The ancient Greek city-states employed a fascinating figure known as the theoros. His role was to travel to foreign lands, study different societies, and return with insights that could benefit his own community. It is from this idea of thoughtful observation that our word “theory” ultimately derives. Travel, they believed, was valuable only if it changed the traveller.
This idea sheds light on the noticeable reversal in wording in this verse. First, it speaks of motza’eihem lemaseihem – their departures for their journeys – and then maseihem lemotza’eihem – their journeys from their departures. Why the change?
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains that every journey was undertaken at God’s command. Every encampment was only ever temporary, existing to prepare the people for the next stage of their journey. The destination was always intended to be a place to grow before moving forward once again.
The tragedy was that the people themselves often saw things differently. As the numerous complaints in the desert illustrate, they became preoccupied not with where they were heading, but with escaping where they currently were. The goal became leaving rather than arriving.
This distinction feels as relevant today as it was for our ancestors. There is a world of difference between moving because we are running away from something and moving because we are striving towards something. Change alone is not growth. A new place, a new job or a new stage of life does not automatically bring fulfilment. Without direction, movement can simply become wandering.
The theoros travelled to gain wisdom. Every border crossed was an opportunity to learn something new about the world and about themselves. So too, every stage of our lives should leave us wiser, stronger and closer to the person we aspire to become.
The closing passage of Bemidbar reminds us too that Jewish history has always been a story of journeys. We have travelled through exile and redemption, through uncertainty and hope. The 15th-century commentator, Rabbi Avraham Saba, in his work Tzror Hamor, writes that the Torah records these journeys to reassure us that just as God brought our ancestors safely through every challenge, so too He will never abandon His people. However long the road and however many detours there may be, we travel with the confidence that God walks with us.
Whether as a people or as individuals, therefore, the question is not whether we will need to travel in life, but whether our journeys will merely take us somewhere different, or make us someone different.
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