Complaining to Moses, the Israelites cry out that they remember the fish served to them in Egypt that they received “chinam” (without paying; Numbers 11:5).
Could they really have received food with no strings attached? After all, these are the same Egyptians who refused to give the Jewish slaves straw for bricks. As the Midrash asks: “If they wouldn’t give them straw for naught, would they have given them fish for naught?” (Sifrei 87).
Nachmanides believes that this is certainly possible because, at the riverside, the Jews who were slaves of the Egyptian fishermen would be given some fish, probably the small fish that had no value in the Egyptians’ eyes. Ibn Ezra reflects this line of reasoning but adds that the term chinam should not be taken literally – it should be understood to mean “inexpensive.” They received fish at bargain basement prices.
Rashi offers another answer from the Midrash. “Chinam,” says Rashi, means “free of mitzvot [commandments]” (Sifrei 87). In Egypt, without the commandments, the Jews felt unencumbered, free. After the giving of the Torah at Sinai, with all of its prohibitive laws, the Jews felt restricted by the commandments. This seems to make sense. Freedom and limitation are antithetical. If, for example, I’m not allowed to eat a particular food, my options are severely narrowed, and I am no longer feeling “chinam” or free.
But the Jews in the desert misunderstood the commandments. The mitzvot, even the laws that seem most restrictive, can often teach self-discipline, and self-discipline is a passageway to freedom.
To become a great pianist, for example, one needs the self-discipline to practice endlessly, thereby becoming free to roam the keyboard with grace and ease. So too with dance, with sports, and yes, with learning. Vigorously pushing oneself to put in hours makes one free to navigate and understand even the most difficult text.
We commonly associate freedom with the ability to do whatever we want, whenever we want. But freedom is not only the right to say yes; it is the ability to say no. If I cannot push away a particular food, my physical urges may have unbridled freedom, but my mind is enslaved. What appears to be a clear green light can sometimes turn out to be the greatest of burdens.
The opposite is also true. What appears to be a burden can often lead to unlimited freedom.
A story illustrates this point. When God first created the world, the birds were formed without wings. They complained to God: “We’re small and feel overpowered by the larger animals.” God responded: “Have patience, you’ll see.” In time, God gave the birds wings. The complaining intensified. “It’s worse than ever! Until now, we were all small, but still quick enough to elude the animals of prey. Now we have these appendages by our sides and we feel weighed down.” God gently took the birds and taught them how to fly high and then higher. They were able to reach above the clouds and escape all threats from their animal adversaries.
The mitzvot are like wings. When not understood fully, they can make us feel stifled and weighed down. Yet when studied and internalized, they give us new ways of looking at the world and at ourselves. They teach us self-discipline and meaning. With these gifts, we can fly high and far. We become free – chinam.
Candle lighting:
Behaalotecha parsha
June 21st at 7:58 p.m.
