It’s a question that echoes throughout Jewish tradition, and one place we find it wrestled with is in Bamidbar Rabbah – specifically, in section 16. Bamidbar Rabbah, if you're not familiar, is a Midrashic collection, meaning it's a compilation of rabbinic interpretations and expansions on the Book of Numbers (Bamidbar in Hebrew).
The passage hinges on a verse from Numbers 14:27: “Until when, for this evil congregation that bring complaints against Me? I have heard the complaints of the children of Israel that they brought against Me.” Ouch. Strong words, right? But what exactly does it mean?
The text uses this verse as a jumping-off point for a fascinating halakhic discussion. Halakha, in case you don't know, refers to Jewish law. The question posed is seemingly simple: Is it permissible to move a baby on Shabbat if the baby is holding a stone? Seems a little random, doesn't it?
Our Rabbis taught that yes, you can move the baby, even with the stone. The explanation? We learn it from the generation that wandered in the wilderness after the Exodus. Think about it: the Holy One, blessed be He, figuratively carried them, "as a man would bear his son," as it says in Deuteronomy 1:31. And guess what? These weren't exactly perfect people. According to Nehemiah 9:18, "They made themselves a cast figure of a calf" – they were carrying idols!
The Midrash pushes further. Even when crossing the Red Sea, they weren't exactly pure of heart. The image of Mikha, an idol, crossed with them! Zechariah 10:11 hints at this, saying “Trouble [tzara] will pass through the sea.” Now, tzara can also mean "another wife," a clever reference to idol worship – bringing another entity into the relationship with God.
Yet, despite all this, the Holy One, blessed be He, didn’t abandon them. He split the sea for them! But, as Psalm 78:40 asks, "How much did they defy Him?" Even after the miracle of the sea, they slandered the Land of Israel, spreading negativity and doubt.
And that brings us back to the core question: “Until when need I be tolerant of them? ‘Until when, for this evil congregation?’” God seems to be saying, "I've done so much, and still..."
Ginzberg, in his monumental Legends of the Jews, expands on the constant backsliding of the Israelites, highlighting their repeated failures even after experiencing divine miracles. This wasn’t a single slip-up; it was a pattern.
So, what are we left with? It’s not just a legal ruling about moving a baby on Shabbat. It's a profound reflection on divine patience, human fallibility, and the enduring relationship between God and the Jewish people. It’s a reminder that even when we stumble, even when we carry our "idols" with us, there's still a path forward, a chance for redemption. But it also begs the question: what is the limit? How far can we push before even divine patience runs out?