Ever wanted to just be left alone? Just... a quiet corner of life where you don't have to fight anyone’s battles, where you can tend to your own flock, keep your own routine, and let the rest of the world sort itself out.
That's what the tribes of Reuven and Gad asked for in this week's parsha, Matot. The land on the east bank of the Jordan was perfect grazing land for their large herds of sheep and cattle. They came to Moshe with a request: let us stay here and settle our families.
Moshe's reaction was fierce. "Your brothers are going to go to war and you're going to sit here?" And then he goes on to accuse them of discouraging the entire nation and of repeating the sin of the spies, who talked the Jewish people out of entering the Land in the first place.
Reuven and Gad never said they wouldn't fight. They never said Israel wasn't worth conquering. They just wanted to live somewhere quiet. Why does Moshe treat that like treason?
Because of what it reveals underneath.
The spies didn't want to enter the Land either. Not because they doubted G-d, but because life in the desert was, spiritually speaking, easy. Manna fell from the sky. Clothes never wore out. Every day was just Torah; no mortgage, no meetings, no marketplace. Why trade that for a land where you have to plow fields or run a business?
Reuven and Gad wanted the same thing, just with sheep instead of manna. Stay out here, stay simple, stay untouched by the noise of building a society. Let everyone else go do the complicated, physical, sometimes-messy work of settling the Land.
And here's the part that hits closest to home: that instinct isn't wrong. There's a real place in Jewish life for people to learn Torah full-time, undistracted by the marketplace. That's why Yissachar and Zevulun made their famous deal. Yissachar would learn and Zevulun would work and support him, and they'd split the reward. Torah scholars and working people need each other. Masters of Torah, masters of good deeds and both are essential.
But here's what Moshe would not accept: doing it in your own bubble, cut off, uninvolved, unintegrated with everyone else engaged in building the world around you.
Once Reuven and Gad said, "We will cross over and fight alongside our brothers," Moshe didn't argue anymore. He let them stay. Not because their preference changed, but because their posture did. They were no longer opting out. They were showing up for the war and choosing their corner of the map afterward.
Where in your life have you built a quiet corner to avoid the noise? A busy schedule that doesn’t make room for someone who needs you. Maybe it's a spiritual routine so private that nobody else benefits from it. Perhaps it's simply easier to stay on your side of the river.
It's not that quiet and private are wrong. It's that Hashem doesn't want your Jewishness parked on the sidelines. He wants it in the game, transforming the actual, physical, occasionally inconvenient world you and I live in.
A mission for this week: find one place where you've been standing on the sidelines (a person, a cause, a mitzvah) and cross the river. Show up for it, even if your sheep are perfectly happy where they are.
Good Shabbos,
Rabbi Kushi Schusterman