Chazal instituted that every week we read a different parshah—Bereishis, Noach, and so on and so forth. In this way, one will find that all over the world, throughout every Jewish community, the same parshah is read.
The Rishonim bring a tradition from R’ Saadia Gaon, that if a Jew is traveling and finds himself in a place where there is no Jewish community, and he does not even know what parshah it is, there is a specific parshah in the Torah that he should read to himself. What is that parshah? R’ Saadia Gaon says that he should read parshas Ha’Man, which describes how the manna would fall each day for the Jews while they were in the desert, and that on Friday, a double portion would fall. This would seem to be a rather interesting choice. True, it is loosely related to Shabbos, as there was a double portion for Shabbos, but nevertheless, it would seem that there are parshiyos in the Torah which speak more directly to what Shabbos is all about—for example, “Vayiverech Elokim es yom ha’shevii va’yikadesh oso”. Why, then, does R’ Saadia tell us that this is the parshah that the Jew far out in the desert should read?
When Hashem created the world, He created it in a way such that every object, place, or animal, originates from somewhere else. What is the point of origin for all physical things? The origin of everything physical is in the spiritual world. The Ribono Shel Olam designed the world in a way that everything starts off as a spiritual reality and from there, moves from its origin point and descends to this world. Now, usually when something descends, it changes as it travels—it becomes different, more physical—and thereby less connected to its point of origin.
The same is true of a person. As long as they are in their home environment, along with their shuls and yeshivas, there is a certain Jewish identity, and strength, that comes along with that. But just like the thing that moves from Heaven, so too as a person moves away from that community, becoming isolated and disconnected, there is concern that the person will change—to the point that he becomes unrecognizable from what he originally was. There is only one thing that never changed as it descended down to this world—the manna. It came from Heaven and sustained us—clearly indicating that it was part of this world—yet it never changed from what it was, always recognizable from where it came from.
Just as the manna is something that never changed, so too there is one day of the week that gives a person the strength—despite all the traveling, which normally causes a person to veer further and further from his identity—to stay true to his roots. That day is Shabbos. Shabbos is a day of connectivity; its essence is to realign a person with where he came from.
Throughout the six days of the week, a person becomes more and more disconnected from his point of origin and true identity. Shabbos reminds and recalibrates us with who we truly are.
What manna is in physical food, Shabbos is in the dimension of time. The very essence of Shabbos is to tell us that no matter how far you’ve gone, you are just as connected to Hashem as before. So, for the Jew who feels entirely disconnected, and doesn’t feel part of anything due to the distance he’s traveled, both physically and spiritually—on Shabbos he is reminded that through the power of Shabbos, he can once again feel connected to his origin point. To highlight this, he reads the parshas Ha’Man, as the manna was the food that always retained its identity, despite the distance traveled—to the point where we can look at it and say, “That’s a Heavenly food.” Shabbos—“That’s a Heavenly day.” On Shabbos, we can look up and say to this Jew, “Now that’s a Heavenly Jew.”
Our avodah is to remember that no matter the upheaval and the distance traveled during the six days of the week, Shabbos reminds us that ultimately, a Yid can never disconnect; we are always and forever stamped with our identity. This in turn should give us the strength and confidence that we are always a holy Jew, and forever remain part of the Jewish People.
Hashem should bless us that the light of Shabbos should give us this strength, and to always feel connected to who we truly are.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 4.