A Stick for the Journey
The twelve tribes of Israel, descending from the twelve sons of Jacob, are sometimes referred to as the twelve Shevatim, which means branches, and at other times, such as in the opening phrase of this week's Torah portion, are called Matos which means sticks.
Read literally, the opening phrase sounds something like this: “Moses spoke to the heads of the sticks”. The question immediately presents itself: why would the Torah use the word stick to describe a tribe?
Shvatim, branches, is a beautifully poetic choice of a word to describe the tribes. It evokes the image of a beautiful tree sending forth its branches in all directions, each branch, while unique in its specific character, intrinsically connected to the root. It evokes the image of the diverse family of Jews, all sitting around our forefather Jacob.
Matos, sticks, conveys none of that warmth and beauty. A stick is dry, a stick is hard. Why, then, would we call ourselves sticks?
A stick was once a branch. At one point the stick was just an extension of a tree. Yet eventually, the branch was separated from the tree, and over time its moisture dried up, and it hardened to the point that when looking at the stick it is hard to imagine that this stick was once part of a living tree.
The stick metaphor is therefore a great analogy for the Jewish family. Initially, we were a small group, we all sat around the same table, we all recognized one another and we saw each other as different branches of a common tree-trunk. And then, as the generations passed, we look around and we didn't necessarily identify with all the members of our now extended family. We know that once upon a time we had a common ancestor, we know that we were all part of the same tree, but now, we feel more like a stick who is separate and independent from the other sticks in the neighborhood.
The same is true for our soul. In some ways, our souls have become sticks.
Yes, each and every soul was once a branch, visibly connected to its source, alive and sensitive to spirituality. And then the soul descended into this world, its connection to its roots is no longer visible. Its openness to the Divine reality, its sensitivity to the intangible is severely compromised.
And yet, the transition from branch to stick, however difficult for the soul, is not just necessary but it is also tremendously beneficial and rewarding. For only once the soul descends into this world, detaching itself from its tree, facing the challenges of human life, does it discover and express the strength hidden within its deepest recesses. Only once it is severed from it source does it gain the strength of a stick, enabling it to achieve what no branch can achieve. As a stick it has the chance to experience a more powerful relationship with G-d, a relationship that is strong enough to survive, and is intensified by, the challenges of this world. As a stick it has the power to do what no soul has ever done in branch form; as a stick it has the power to impact the physical world.
This is why immediately following the portion of Matot, sticks, comes the portion of Masey, journeys (which describe the 42 journeys traveled by the children of Israel from Egypt to the Land of Israel). These two portions are often combined. The message is clear: there is no way to journey to our goal, to journey toward the fulfillment of our potential, and to journey toward fulfilling our purpose of creation, without achieving what can only be achieved when the branch becomes a stick. For it is the stick, the strength that we must produce in order to overcome challenge, that leads to the journey toward, first to the figurative, and then to the actual, land of Israel[1].
[1] Based on the teachings of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Likutey Sichos, Volume 18, Matos-Masey.