By Melissa Berenbaum, June 6, 2026
Parashat Beha’alotcha begins in light and ends in shame, repentance, and waiting. It opens with Aaron kindling the lamps of the menorah in the sanctuary, and it closes with Miriam standing outside the camp while the entire people halt their journey until she can return. Between those scenes lies a profound spiritual drama: how a holy people, blessed with divine closeness, can still stumble through resentment, ingratitude, and disloyal speech. This parsha does not show us angels floating above the world. It shows us a covenantal community wrestling with holiness under pressure. And in that struggle, it teaches us what it means to raise light, what happens when complaint becomes a habit of the soul, and why loyalty to God’s chosen servant matters.
The opening word of the parsha gives us its name and perhaps its deepest charge. Here, God tell Moses to tell Aaron, not to simply, “light the lamps,” but beha’alotcha, “when you mount the lamps, let the seven lamps give light at the front of the lampstand.” Rashi offers a commentary on the significance of this instruction –
WHEN YOU MAKE [THE LIGHTS] RISE — “Because the flame rises upwards (עולה), an expression denoting “ascending” is used of kindling them (the lights), implying that one must kindle them until the light ascends of itself.”
According to the Talmud the lamp had to be lit in such a way that once it was kindled, it did not need any more assistance or adjustment — it could stay lit on its own. Like when I light the Shabbat candles… sometimes the wick is embedded in the wax and I have to encourage the wick to stand up right. I don’t cover my eyes to say the blessing until I see the candles aren’t at risk for going out.
And…A responsible leader does not merely touch a soul and move on. He or she stays with the wick until the flame can stand independently. There is already a sermon in that alone. To educate a child, to guide a student, to strengthen a community, to teach Torah, to pray with sincerity—all of that requires patience enough to remain present until the other person begins to burn with their own light. [message to graduates…. 8th graders… flame nurtured at Pressman/TBA, now upright to go to high school; 12th graders, flame burns bright to leave parents’ home for college]
Another teaching noted by Rashi is that the lamps were directed toward the center lamp of the menorah. God has no need of our light. We are commanded to bring light before God so that we may be raised up by the act itself. Midrash Tanchuma teaches that God says, as it were, “It is not that I need your light; rather, I give you this command in order to elevate you.” Mitzvot do not benefit God. Rather, they make us better.
And perhaps that is why the menorah comes here, just after the dedication offerings of the tribal leaders. Aaron may have felt left out, but in mounting the lampstands, God is saying that his task is greater. Others may bring gifts on a particular day; Aaron’s calling is to sustain light every day. There is a difference between a grand moment and a lifelong service. Beha’alotcha honors the quiet, repeated, faithful labor of tending the flame.
The heart of this Parsha is really a contrast. First, the Israelites show a tremendous amount of confidence and trust in and patience for Moshe (and God). They are guided by a cloud over the Mishkan and then a fire. By day, a cloud rests over the Mishkan; by night, it becomes a fire. And the Torah repeats, for 9 verses (ch 9, verses 15, through 23), that the people do not move unless the cloud lifts, and they do not camp except where it settles. Sometimes the cloud remains for a day, sometimes for many days, sometimes even for a year—and still the people wait. The Israelites are trusting the process.
But is it just on seeing the cloud lift that causes the people to move? Or is Moshe again the instrumentality of God? Later in Chapter 10, v. 35 – 36, we have the verses Moshe would say, when the Ark and the people were to move, “Advance O Lord! May Your enemies be scattered, And may Your foes flee before You (Interestingly: Kooma, Adonai, V’yafotzu ahvehcha, v’yanoosu misanecha mipanech – the verse we say when we take the Torah out of the Ark). And when the people and the Ark were to stop moving, Moshe would say, “Return O Lord You who are Israel’s myriad of Thousands.” We see the partnership between God – providing the cloud and fire, and Moshe providing the verbal charge.
But of course, all that trust, patience and confidence between the Israelites, and Moshe and God — was too good to be true – it couldn’t last forever. What will become the Jewish people are not always easy; they are a challenging bunch. In our story, we have the Israelites complaining, first generally and then about their food. They crave meat and all the good food they remember from Egypt. But they seem to have forgotten the oppressive labor and cruelty. And they have forgotten the miracle of their deliverance from slavery and the fact that they did have daily sustenance even as they were on the move. Perhaps their worst offense was the absence of any gratitude.
This is not the first time the Israelites complain. There are several instances in Sh’mot/Exodus where they complain about water and food. But this time their complaints almost break Moshe.
He cries out to God, despairing over why he must carry this people alone, even saying that the burden is too heavy for him. He also thinks that his role is a punishment, that he has served God and now he is being expected to carry these people and meet their demands, now for meat. He is so desperate that he would rather die than have the burden of the Israelites.
Here again the Torah is practical and realistic. Even the greatest prophet can be brought low by a complaining people. Everyone experiences frustrations and even being overwhelmed by the ones we love. Here, God’s response is not to flatter Moses into strength. It is to distribute the burden among seventy elders. Shared leadership becomes the answer to communal exhaustion.
But what’s interesting here is that this has been done before. You’ll remember back in Yitro, Yitro, Moshe’s father-in-law, knew that the workload Moses bore was too much for any one person. He told Moshe to appoint capable individuals who can handle the problems of thousands, hundreds, fifties and tens; in other words a leadership team.
So what would these 70 elders do? God tells Moshe that He will take the spirit that is on Moshe and put in on these elders. So now 70 additional people will be delivering the same message as Moshe? Will that be any more persuasive? Will that eliminate the complaints? Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks notes that the verse (v. 25):
“Then after coming down in a cloud and speaking to him, God drew upon the spirit that was upon him and put it upon the seventy elders. And when the spirit rested upon them, they spoke in ecstasy, but they did not continue.”
“they did not continue” Lord Rabbi Sacks says that most commentators agree that this indicates that this is a “one and done” situation. This flow of the prophetic spirit does not repeat itself.
But it does cause the despair felt by Moshe to be lifted. He’s at ease. Two of these elders do engage in some prophecy, and Joshua sees it as a threat to Moshe’s authority. But Moshe has a new calm. V. 29: Are you wrought up on my account? Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, that the Lord put His spirit upon them!”
This crisis is different from any of the others Moshe has faced. The early ones can be explained by the Israelites’ fears and uncertainties. After all, who had ever seen a Sea part? And the response to the great offense of the Golden Calf is that the journey to the promised land, as Rabbi Lord Sacks, referencing Rav Lichtenstein, notes takes a lengthy detour (from Exodus 25 to this Parsha) to build the Tabernacle where God’s presence is more constant among the Israelites.
But here, Moshe feels that their complaints about not having better food indicates that they have been unmoved by the miracles they have witnessed and the calling to their unique moral and ethical destiny. That’s what overwhelms him; that his work and partnership with God has not accomplished anything.
But why does the gathering of the 70 elders calm Moshe and restore his faith? Moshe sees his influence in these 70; he can see the difference he has made in them and that gives him the lift that he needs to go on. He doesn’t need them to carry on any prophecy. But Moshe is restored.
None of us can know the influence we have on others, but if we work to be a force for good and decency, chances are we will have an impact and leave a legacy. After all Moshe did. We are still learning from his example and his lessons. And that is the tenacity and resilience of the Jewish people.
I want to mention one other small part of this Parsha… this is the only Parsha that mentions retirement and that is the Levites are to do their job to take care of the Tent of Meetings, the Tabernacle, the Mishkan, from age 25-50 and at age 50, they are relieved of this responsibility.
Ch 8 V. 24 – “this is the rule for the Levites. From 25 years of age up they shall participate in the work force in the service of the Tent of the Meeting; 25 but at the age of 50 they shall retire from the work force and serve no more. 26 They may assist their brother Levities at the Ten of Meeting by standing guard but they shall perform no labor. Thus you shall deal with the Levites in regard to their duties.”
As I have just announced my retirement from the Motion Picture Association, effective August 31, I wanted to see what the Torah said about retirement. And this is the only place retirement is mentioned. Presumably, the Levites are to retire because of the physical demands of their jobs. Rabbi David Rothenberg wrote a blog post about Judaism and retirement and he said:
“While the Torah offers few clues about retirement, Torah supports generational change. Planning for succession happens in Torah as Moses gives way to Joshua. Joshua shows leadership potential and God decides that the current generation of B’nai Yisrael must give way to the next generation before they can end 40 years of wandering in the desert and enter the land of milk and honey.”
There are commentaries about aging and the elderly, but there is no retirement from Judaism, from community and from learning, and I hope to be more available and more engaged in these pursuits in the coming months and years!
So what does Beha’alotcha ask of us? First, it asks us to become people who raise light. Not merely to kindle quickly, not merely to inspire for a moment, but to tend the flame until it can rise on its own. In our homes, our synagogues, our schools, and our friendships, we are called to be like Aaron, steady enough to sustain holiness in others. And, this parsha warns us about the spiritual danger of complaint. There is a difference between honest pain and habitual murmuring, between a cry for help and a heart trained in ingratitude. The Israelites were not destroyed by hunger alone; they were endangered by the temptation to reinterpret redemption through the lens of resentment. Every generation must ask: am I nourishing gratitude, or am I quietly teaching my soul to remember Egypt fondly?
God asks us to raise light, but He also asks us to become a people worthy of that light: grateful, loyal, humble, patient, and faithful. May we learn to tend the flames entrusted to us until they rise upward on their own, and may the Holy One teach us to walk through the wilderness as a people of light.
Shabbat shalom and mazal tov to the graduates.