These Parshios basically recap Bnei Yisrael's journeys in the desert. Our first question is why does the Torah list all the places that they went to? The Torah should just say, "And the Jews left Egypt and eventually came to C'naan." Especially since we don't even know what happened in some of these places!
The second question is, assuming that there is a valid explanation why the Torah lists all these places, why list the places where bad things occurred? The Torah should list all the inspirational highlights of the desert trip, why does it remind us of all the times that we messed up?
I think that the answers to both questions can be found in a very strange Pasuk: "And Moshe wrote their departures according to their journeys, according to the word of G-d; and these are their journeys according to their departures: (Bam. 33:2)"
Why does the Pasuk switch the order of the words "journey & departures," and what does it all mean anyway?
The first Rashi on Parshas Masei quotes Rabbi Tanchuma who says that the reason the Torah goes through all these places can be explained by a Mashal: It's like a father who takes his sick son to the Doctor. On the way back, the father explains, "Here is where we slept, and here we ate, etc."
Rav Lichtenstein explains that what this Mashal means is that its not only the result that is important, but the process as well. There are two extremes in life philosophy:
1) Carpe Diem - I don't even know if there will be a tomorrow, so I will live it up today, or
2) Today is only important in that it gets me to tomorrow; an approach that lends itself to "The ends justify the means."
Both are a certain rejection of morality, and neither is the Jewish way. It says in Pirkei Avos (4:22) that an hour of doing Teshuva and Mitzvos in this world is better than all of the next world. The next world is of tremendous importance, and yet it is better to have one hour of growth here.
It says in Shabbos (30a) that David HaMelech found out that he would die on Shabbos, so he prayed that he would die on Sunday instead. G-d rejects his request, because were he to live longer, it would impinge on his son's reign. So David asks to die on Friday. Hashem responds that He would rather have one day of David sitting and busying himself with Torah, than one-thousand sacrifices.
What's the point of one more day? Will he become more of a Talmud Chacham? No. He won't even be able to teach that which he learns, because the next day he will be dead! The point is that there is great significance to the learning in itself, even if it will be forgotten the next day. This doesn't only apply to learning Torah, it applies to everything we do. "Lo Alecha HaM'lacha Ligmor, VeLo Atah Ben Chorin LeHibatel Mimena." - "It's not your job to finish the work, yet you are not free to disregard it either." Man's job is to do the work, what results; the accomplishment is up to Hashem.
Rav Blachman taught us that in the time of the Mashiach, we will only say "Elokei Yitzchok" in the Amidah. We will no longer say Elokei Avraham, Yitzchok VeYaakov, only Yitzchok. Why? Because Yitzchok is the Av that represents working when the accomplishment cannot be seen. What did Yitzchok ever accomplish? Nothing! Even the wells that he dug were the same ones his father had! He was tied up his whole life, beginning with the Akeida, but he never gave up. He kept on plowing even though the harvest was out of sight.
It's not up to us to win the race, but we still have to run it like heck! Each journey that we take in life has significance in each step, not only in the final outcome.
This is what it says in the first half of the Pasuk: "And Moshe wrote their departures according to their journeys, according to the word of G-d..." The departures have significance on their own, that it why the Torah lists all of them, but they are only justified through their ultimate purpose, "According to the word of G-d."
That may be a part of why the Torah tells us the journeys, because each day is important, but why does the Torah have to remind us of all the bad stuff? To understand this we needn't go any further than the time of year. We are now in the period called, "Bain HaMetzarim," between the straits; between places of limitation (from the 17th of Tammuz until the 9th of Av). During this period we read three Haftorahs on Shabbos that are called "Gimmel DePuranusah," - "The three of tragedy." Which are then followed by the "Zayin DeNechemtah" - "The seven of consolation."
Rav Tatz explains that whenever we have something with ten components, it is considered a complete object. So the three weeks of tragedy and seven of consolation are somehow connected to form a spiritually complete unit.
We usually think that what we need to do is simply get through the three of tragedy and then live in the seven. We try to ignore the bad and live in the good. Many times when someone is in mourning, we try to distract him so that he doesn't have to think about his loss so much, when that is exactly what he needs to deal with. Actually, it's only because of the three that we can see the seven. It's only because of the darkness that we can eventually see the light. Man cannot appreciate something until he lacks it. The soul, for example, has to perceive itself as "separated" from its source before it can appreciate the connection it always had. If Adam HaRishon would have realized that there was darkness in the Garden of Eden, he would never have been exiled from it. If he would have realized that this "paradise" actually has pain to it, because he could perceive himself as independent of G-d there, he wouldn't have had to be expelled. The darkness of Eden was that it can be perceived as "outside" of G-d. A person has free will in Eden, he can act against G-d's will. That is darkness. Since he didn't appreciate the darkness, G-d made it more obvious by really hiding himself in the world. Now we just try to get back to Eden.
In any case, we can only truly appreciate the light, is when it shines out from the darkness. We say in the Psalm for Shabbos, "LeHagid BaBoker Chasdecha, VeEmuascha BaLeilos." - "To speak of your kindness in the day, and your loyalty at night." In the morning, when things are clear, it is easy to serve G-d. The real test of loyalty comes when his presence is unclear, at night. One of the words for night is Erev, which is the same word as Meurav, mixed up. At night, we have doubts (if its dark enough, we may even begin to doubt that we ourselves exist), because things are mixed up and unclear. That darkness, that doubt is necessary though, because it is only through the darkness that we really see the light.
The last Lubavitcher Rebbe said that our portion is a Mahsal for the lifelong journey of a narrow, bound soul to spiritual breadth and freedom. Egypt, in Hebrew is Mitzrayim, which is the same word as Mitzarim, straits or limitation (Bain HaMetzarim). The darkness is this limitation, but the process which we call life, is journeys towards Eretz Yisrael, and every step is important.
It says in Micah, "Kee Nafalty, Kamtee." People thin it means, "Despite falling, I arose." But, it really means, "Because I fell, I could arise." It's only through the darkness, and the bad times of Jewish history, that we are able to rise to new heights. The growth only takes place when it is difficult, as any weight-lifter will tell you. To keep building muscle, you have to keep adding on heavier weights. But, as long as we keep imitating Yitzchok Avinu and refuse to give up, we can merit the Mashiach, soon in our days. That is the second half of the Pasuk, "...and these are their journeys, according to their departures." First we must depart, before we can journey. We need to experience the darkness, before we can really have the light.
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