By Rabbi Dan Lewin

Parashat Pinchas

We often say that everything happens for a reason. But one of the great challenges of life is that we rarely see the full reason behind what happens. We experience an event from our own limited perspective and try to define it: Is this a punishment? A blessing? A missed opportunity?

The Torah teaches us that Hashem’s plans are far greater than what we can see. A single event can contain multiple layers of Divine purpose. One person may be experiencing a correction, while another person is being elevated. What appears to be one story may actually contain several stories unfolding simultaneously.

We find a beautiful example in this week’s parsha. As the Jewish people prepare to enter the Land of Israel, G-d instructs Moshe regarding how the Land will be divided among the tribes and families. Hearing this, the five daughters of Tzlafchad approach Moshe with a request for justice. Their father had died in the desert without leaving any sons. Concerned they would not receive a share in the Land of Israel, they asked to receive the portion that would have belonged to him.

After describing their plea, the Torah tells us: “And Moshe brought their mishpat before Hashem” (Bamidbar 27:5). Rashi — the classic commentary on Chumash that fills in the gaps — explains that something unusual occurred: the halacha (law) was concealed from Moshe at that moment. He then offers two explanations for why this happened.

The first explanation is that it was a form of rectification for an earlier incident. After Yisro advised Moshe to appoint judges over the Jewish people, Moshe later recalled telling them, “The matter that is too difficult for you, bring to me, and I will hear it” (Devarim 1:17). These words carried the subtle implication that he would be able to provide the answer.

The Gemara explains that the emphasis should have been that difficult matters are ultimately brought before Hashem — that Moshe’s role was to bring the matter before Him, rather than presenting himself as the final address. Measure for measure, Hashem concealed this law from Moshe, requiring him to bring the matter before Him.

[This should not be misunderstood as ordinary arrogance. Moshe was the humblest person who ever lived. But great tzaddikim are judged with a far higher standard of scrutiny, and on Moshe’s level, even a subtle emphasis on his own role required correction. Nevertheless, the principle applies to every person: Our actions and speech matter, and Hashem guides us toward growth according to our level.]

Rashi then offers a second explanation: “This passage was worthy of being written through Moshe, but the daughters of Tzlafchad were deserving, and therefore it was written through them.”

The clue in the text

At first glance, however, a basic question arises: Why is Rashi commenting at all?

Is it really so unusual that Moshe did not know the answer to a particular halachic question? During the 40 years in the desert, the Torah was unfolding. Laws were revealed and clarified over time. There were certainly moments when Moshe needed to receive further instruction. The fact that Moshe did not immediately know a particular law would not, by itself, be surprising. So what prompts Rashi to comment?

The answer lies in the Torah’s precise wording. Here, the Torah does not say that Moshe brought their davar before Hashem — the usual term for a matter or question. Instead, it says that he brought their mishpat — their judgment or legal ruling. This distinction is crucial. A davar would mean that the daughters of Tzlafchad presented a question that needed an answer. But a mishpat refers to a legal ruling, a conclusion that already exists.

From this single word, Rashi understands that this was not simply a ruling that had never been revealed to Moshe. Rather, Moshe had known this law previously, but at this moment it was concealed from him. Here we see the power and precision of every word in the Torah. The language of the verse itself reveals more of what happened, and Rashi’s commentary helps us uncover why it happened.

Will the real reason please stand up?

But now we return to Rashi’s two explanations. At first glance, they seem to contradict each other. Was the law hidden because Moshe was being corrected? Or was it because the daughters of Tzlafchad deserved the great merit of having this section of Torah written through them? One explanation presents the concealment as a correction for the past; the other presents it as the means to a positive outcome. Why does Rashi offer these two opposite-flavored explanations for this momentary lapse in memory?

Perhaps Rashi is teaching us that these explanations are not alternatives. They are both necessary and work together. If we only had the first explanation — that this was a consequence of Moshe’s mistake — we would have an obvious question: Why did Hashem wait 40 years? If the purpose was simply to correct Moshe’s earlier statement, why not enable his rectification sooner? The second explanation addresses the timing. The law remained hidden until the precise moment when the daughters of Tzlafchad could approach Moshe and earn the merit of having this portion of Torah written through them.

But if we only had that explanation — that Hashem wanted to reward the daughters — we would have another question: Would that merit alone justify placing Moshe Rabbeinu, the teacher of all Israel, in a situation where he temporarily did not know the halacha? The first explanation addresses this concern. There was already a reason for the law to be concealed from Moshe, based on an earlier incident in the Torah. Thus, both explanations, taken together, complete the picture. The same Divine act was simultaneously a correction for Moshe and an elevation for the daughters of Tzlafchad.

There is one further point worth emphasizing. Rashi does not say that this law was given through the daughters of Tzlafchad. He says it was “written” through them. The law already existed — that is exactly what the word mishpat indicates. Moshe had known it previously. Their merit was that this eternal section of Torah would be recorded through their initiative.

These women did not simply receive an inheritance. Their courage and initiative became the reason that an eternal section of Torah bore their imprint. Moshe’s moment of not knowing was part of that same Divine plan, allowing the greatness of the daughters of Tzlafchad to emerge.

Takeaway

This brief comment by Rashi, prompted by just one word in the verse, offers a powerful reflection of how Hashem runs the world. We often experience events and assume we understand their meaning. A delayed response feels like a rejection. A closed door feels like a failure.

But behind every event there may be multiple purposes unfolding at once. Something may be repairing the past while creating a blessing for the future. A challenge for one person may become the very vehicle through which another person’s elevation is fulfilled. And in truth, when it comes to the unfolding of Divine providence and the interconnectedness of people’s lives and all events in the universe, there are often far more than two purposes — exponential, multilayered and beyond human comprehension.

So one lesson the Torah conveys this week is that what appears to be an isolated event is actually part of a much larger design, where every detail — and every word — is guided with purpose.

Rabbi Dan Lewin is director of the nonprofit Maayan Chai Foundation. For information, visit maayan-chai.org.