This can also be read in the Jewish Star
Parshat Balak
One of the most difficult things for people to say is “I was wrong.” It is even harder to say, and really mean, “I have sinned.” Our religion is not one with anonymous confessions to a voice behind a wall. Generally, our confessions are to G-d, though there are times when we might admit to humans either that we have wronged them or have sinned to G-d.
There is something cleansing about owning up to human beings and to admitting our errors. Suffering embarrassment or humiliation under the judgmental eyes of our peers helps us come to grips with what we’ve done and it helps us take real steps to improve our behavior and not return to our sinning ways.
Perhaps it is admirable that Bilaam admits to an angel “I have sinned” (22:34), if his intentions were honorable. An overview of Biblical examples of people admitting sins may help us understand Bilaam’s likely motivation.
During both the Barad (hail) and Arbeh (locusts) plagues, Pharoh admits he sinned through not letting the Israelites out of bondage (Shmot 9:27, 10:16). After a decimating loss on the battlefield, Achan admits to Yehoshua that he stole from the consecrated booty (Yehoshua 7:20). After much back and forth with his teacher and mentor the prophet Shmuel, King Saul admits he sinned before the battle with Amalek by listening to the people instead of Shmuel (Shmuel I 15:24, 25, 30). The last time they encounter one another, Saul also admits to David that he sinned by accusing David of treason (Shmuel I 26:21). After the prophet Natan accuses David of sinning with Batsheva and having her husband killed, David quickly admits his sin, without excuses (Shmuel II 12:13). Fearful that he will be executed by David, Shimi ben Gera admits to having wronged the king (Shmuel II 19:21).
On a collective front, sometimes a large group of people sin and admit to their wrongdoings.
In Bamidbar 14:40, after the decree that the Israelites will spend the next 40 years in the desert and not live to see the Promised Land, the nation admits to Moshe that they had sinned when listening to the spies. The Israelites also made a similar admission in last week’s parsha (21:7) when the snakes wreaked havoc and killed a part of the population.
We see similar admission in Shoftim 10:10 and Shmuel I 7:6, 12:10 when the people are confronted with evidence of their errors.
In discussing our protagonist, Bilaam, we can see the positive sides of admitting, “I have sinned.” On the other hand, we can also bring much criticism to the table in assessing Bilaam’s admission of guilt.
We don’t even know why he said he sinned other than his telling the angel, “I didn’t know you were there.” Was his sin that he went to curse the Israelites? That he hit his donkey? That he didn’t stop when the angel appeared (unbeknownst to him) in the path?
There is a running theme in these admissions of guilt. In just about every case, the individual admits to a fault because he has a virtual gun to his head. Pharoh is feeling the pain of plagues, the nation (in the aftermath of the spies) see themselves dying off in the desert or see snakes killing people; Shimi ben Gera fears for his life.
Others admit when the evidence is stacked against them: Achan’s theft is uncovered through a divine lottery. Kings Saul and David are confronted by prophets. King Saul’s admissions are a topic of a larger discussion of his personality, but the biggest critique is that even he did not admit immediately (as King David did when confronted with evidence) that he had erred and sinned against God.
Bilaam clearly fits into the former category — he only admits to a sin (though he does not specify what the sin is) when he notices an angel wielding a sword over his head. It is therefore fitting that he embarrasses himself in telling the donkey “Had I a sword in my hand I’d kill you,” for unlike sincere individuals who admit to sins, Bilaam only apologized when he felt himself in mortal danger.
The really smart and the truly devout can recognize their sins on their own, admit them, correct their behavior, and move on with their lives.
Others say things like “I deeply regret my comments…They do not reflect my heart-felt belief that peace will come to the Middle East…” and expect people to buy their half non-apology. Pharoh was not believed and neither was Bilaam. It did not take long for both of them to die in battles against the Jews (Midrash about Pharoh being saved notwithstanding), when their true beliefs led them headfirst into violent confrontation.
While nearly 90-year-old anti-Semites are not likely to take up arms in battle, we pray that they and their ilk be viewed in the world the same way Pharoh and Bilaam were to the Jewish people: insincere non-apologists who have no future because everyone sees through their false apologetic front.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Repeating a faux pas
Parshat Chukat
by Rabbi Avi Billlet
I don't know how you operate, but I'll make a confession here. As a father of young children, I have learned that when they do something really bad, I need only make them feel really guilty to have them learn never to repeat the offense.
Perhaps we operate the same way. As long as the bad things we do remain secrets, we're in the clear. Once we get caught, and suffer the embarrassment or slap on the wrist (or worse) that comes with the guilt, do we finally vow never to do those things again.
So it comes as a surprise when we read this week that Moshe chose to repeat what was arguably the biggest "fashla" (Hebrew slang for “oops moment") of his life. In 21:32, in a verse that is largely overlooked, Moshe does the unthinkable: "Moses sent out men to reconnoiter Ya'azer, and they captured its surrounding villages, driving out the Amorites who lived there."
Reconnoiter is the term used in The Living Torah, and it means "to spy." So Moshe sent spies... again? Wouldn't that be the ultimate no-no?
According to some commentaries, indeed even according to Moshe himself (Devarim 1:37), the incident of the spies in Parshat Shlach is what ultimately led to Moshe’s death in the desert. How could he be so foolish to send spies again?
Because there is nothing foolish about sending spies, if it is done correctly.
In Shlach, there was pomp and ceremony and everyone knew who was going, when they were going, what their assignment was, and when they returned. Instead of reporting only to Moshe, they reported to everyone.
And this time the spies themselves were different: according to Targum Yonatan, Moshe sent only two spies this time, Kalev and Pinchas, whose trustworthiness was beyond question.
Additionally, the spying fell in between battles, when the nation was pumped for war and knew they could win.
Finally, this was the next generation, a generation that complained about dying of natural causes, but not about having to face the enemy on the battlefield.
Still, all this being true, how could Moshe repeat his faux-pas? Because Moshe "Rabbenu," our teacher, is teaching us a lesson for all time.
The Peter Principle posits that people rise to the level of their incompetence; then no further promotions are available. The concept of "teshuva," however, is that you may make a mistake along the road, but to know if your repentance has been accepted, you need to be faced with the same circumstances once again, and either you don't succumb to temptation or you rise to the occasion.
In Moshe's case, he needed another reason to send spies, to show that while he may have shared the blame the first time around, the ten bad spies had much to do with how things went wrong.
Given the correct strategy and approach, the spying could serve the purpose for which it was intended, vindicating Moshe, and clearing him before his death of the reputation of (shudder) a failed commander-in-chief.
Rashi says the spies went in saying "We don't want be like the first ones. We have faith in the power of Moshe's prayer to help us win the battle." He says the spies themselves were the ones who conquered Ya'azer.
And the Rashi supercommentary Maskil L'David says the reason for the need to send spies was because they needed a "tikkun" (correction) through the same activity in which they sinned. These spies not only went in with the right attitude, but also were ready to sacrifice their lives in battle to give the entire nation the fix they needed to move beyond the wilderness experience.
These are amazingly powerful ideas.
Moshe revisits his mistake to prove he can do things the right way. The spies are so selfless, they are willing, for the sake of the people, to make the ultimate sacrifice so that the generation waiting on the border of the land can let bygones be bygones and move on.
It almost sounds like a movie that opens with a training scene for the most far-fetched situation that could possibly happen. The far-fetched situation becomes the climax of the film (for real this time), and the teacher gives his life so the student can show he or she has surpassed the teacher.
The difference is that this is our history, our heritage, and what our lives are all about: second chances, the ability to try again, to make amends, to do it right, and the selfless dedication of those who believe in G-d and His most devoted ones, to carry out His will for the sake of heaven and the future of the Children of Israel.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Dangers of Cult of Personality
This can be seen in the Jewish Star
Parshat Korach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In general, the Torah portion gets its name from the first, second or third word of the parsha, unless the opening is an introductory verse of God talking to someone — in which case its name comes from the first, second or third word following the introduction. In most cases, the name of the parsha is largely unrelated to its contents.
When it comes to a Torah equivalent of naming a chapter after someone, would it not be fitting that those whom the Torah chooses be models of fine standing?
Six parshas in the Torah include a specific person in their names: Noach, Chayei Sarah, Yitro, Korach, Balak and Pinchas.
The Torah tells us Noach was the greatest person of his generation. He alone merited to have his family saved, to preserve humanity after the Deluge.
Sarah is the original matriarch, whose untimely death taught lessons to her husband, son and all of us.
Yitro joined the Jewish people after the exodus, partly because of his familial connection to Moshe, but also out of personal conviction.
Pinchas is the model zealot who defended God, His Torah, and morality, earning for himself priesthood, from which he had been excluded, and a midrashic connection to Eliyahu and Messiah-hood.
While Balak is by no means a model character, he is the topic of most of the parsha bearing his name (along with Bilaam) — the only parsha in the Torah not told from the perspective of the people of Israel.
Which leaves us with Korach.
Why does Korach merit the infamy and notoriety the Torah gives him? The hero of the parsha, every step of the way, is Aharon. He wards off criticism that he benefited from nepotism, he rises strong to stop a plague with k’toret (incense), and his stick blossoms to become a model for nipping rebellion in the bud. The parsha concludes with instructions for priestly and levitical gifts — given to Aharon and sons, of course. The sedrah should be called “Parshat Aharon!”
As his name does not appear in the first verse, the suggestion is speculative. Yet compelling!
We are left to understand who Korach was, and why the Torah divisions leave him with the fame he carries to this day.
Prior to his tale of demonstration and rebellion, the rabbis tell us Korach was a model Jew. He was a scholar, a Levite, with good family ties — first cousin to Moshe and Aharon. And he taught his sons to think for themselves.
Korach had a problem, however, in that he was not happy with his portion. He wanted kavod (honor) and power. And most importantly, he wanted to be more of a “somebody.” So he preyed on the weak minds of those who became his followers, and on lightweight arguments that said “current leadership is no good. Things will be much different when I am in charge.”
It is always easy to paint an image of bleak hope and absolute despair when you are not in a position to do anything except point out weaknesses in a system that otherwise works pretty well. But what makes you think that when you get the power, you will be an efficient leader? (the image of Scar from “The Lion King” comes to mind)
Narcissists see the world in terms of how they can become more powerful, more famous, more “in charge” of as many things as can fit under their umbrella. They seek to make themselves look good by describing their opponents in the most abject of terms, sometimes saying things like Korach said, “Everyone is holy! Are you, incumbent, going to deny that every person is a holy human being?”
It is true that every human being has the power and the potential to accomplish great things. But not everyone is fit to lead — a leader is one who can take charge, take command, and who can bring about a solution that causes the least amount of damage to his constituents. Most importantly, when wrong, he admits to his mistakes and incompetence. Even the greatest of leaders is still a human being.
Whining and blaming others are not character traits of a leader.
Neither Aharon, Moshe or the forefathers have Torah portions named for them. The actions of these great men spoke much louder than their words.
In a time of crisis and a time of upheaval, it is actions that speak loudest. Words, after all, are just words. And they are as empty as the person who speaks them if they are not backed by actions that are sustainable, that do not tear society apart.
Perhaps Korach has a parsha named after him because he embodies an important lesson we can learn from — the unfit leader who relies more on his personality, charm and empty promises than any real-world experience has no place leading the Jewish people.
Parshat Korach
by Rabbi Avi Billet
In general, the Torah portion gets its name from the first, second or third word of the parsha, unless the opening is an introductory verse of God talking to someone — in which case its name comes from the first, second or third word following the introduction. In most cases, the name of the parsha is largely unrelated to its contents.
When it comes to a Torah equivalent of naming a chapter after someone, would it not be fitting that those whom the Torah chooses be models of fine standing?
Six parshas in the Torah include a specific person in their names: Noach, Chayei Sarah, Yitro, Korach, Balak and Pinchas.
The Torah tells us Noach was the greatest person of his generation. He alone merited to have his family saved, to preserve humanity after the Deluge.
Sarah is the original matriarch, whose untimely death taught lessons to her husband, son and all of us.
Yitro joined the Jewish people after the exodus, partly because of his familial connection to Moshe, but also out of personal conviction.
Pinchas is the model zealot who defended God, His Torah, and morality, earning for himself priesthood, from which he had been excluded, and a midrashic connection to Eliyahu and Messiah-hood.
While Balak is by no means a model character, he is the topic of most of the parsha bearing his name (along with Bilaam) — the only parsha in the Torah not told from the perspective of the people of Israel.
Which leaves us with Korach.
Why does Korach merit the infamy and notoriety the Torah gives him? The hero of the parsha, every step of the way, is Aharon. He wards off criticism that he benefited from nepotism, he rises strong to stop a plague with k’toret (incense), and his stick blossoms to become a model for nipping rebellion in the bud. The parsha concludes with instructions for priestly and levitical gifts — given to Aharon and sons, of course. The sedrah should be called “Parshat Aharon!”
As his name does not appear in the first verse, the suggestion is speculative. Yet compelling!
We are left to understand who Korach was, and why the Torah divisions leave him with the fame he carries to this day.
Prior to his tale of demonstration and rebellion, the rabbis tell us Korach was a model Jew. He was a scholar, a Levite, with good family ties — first cousin to Moshe and Aharon. And he taught his sons to think for themselves.
Korach had a problem, however, in that he was not happy with his portion. He wanted kavod (honor) and power. And most importantly, he wanted to be more of a “somebody.” So he preyed on the weak minds of those who became his followers, and on lightweight arguments that said “current leadership is no good. Things will be much different when I am in charge.”
It is always easy to paint an image of bleak hope and absolute despair when you are not in a position to do anything except point out weaknesses in a system that otherwise works pretty well. But what makes you think that when you get the power, you will be an efficient leader? (the image of Scar from “The Lion King” comes to mind)
Narcissists see the world in terms of how they can become more powerful, more famous, more “in charge” of as many things as can fit under their umbrella. They seek to make themselves look good by describing their opponents in the most abject of terms, sometimes saying things like Korach said, “Everyone is holy! Are you, incumbent, going to deny that every person is a holy human being?”
It is true that every human being has the power and the potential to accomplish great things. But not everyone is fit to lead — a leader is one who can take charge, take command, and who can bring about a solution that causes the least amount of damage to his constituents. Most importantly, when wrong, he admits to his mistakes and incompetence. Even the greatest of leaders is still a human being.
Whining and blaming others are not character traits of a leader.
Neither Aharon, Moshe or the forefathers have Torah portions named for them. The actions of these great men spoke much louder than their words.
In a time of crisis and a time of upheaval, it is actions that speak loudest. Words, after all, are just words. And they are as empty as the person who speaks them if they are not backed by actions that are sustainable, that do not tear society apart.
Perhaps Korach has a parsha named after him because he embodies an important lesson we can learn from — the unfit leader who relies more on his personality, charm and empty promises than any real-world experience has no place leading the Jewish people.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Lone Voice - Shlach Sermon 2010
See ">this video
It is amazing to watch how a young man, who does nothing other than wear an IDF t-shirt and carry two flags, can incite a crowd to lose their reason (if they had any). Most normal people would ignore a single "counterprotestor." And he wasn't even loud, and didn't say anything until the news people asked him questions.
I don't like to talk politics - there are people smarter, more knowledgeable and worldly than I who can discuss these things. In the context of a sermon (or even this blog), politics, to my mind, has no place.
It is amazing to watch how a young man, who does nothing other than wear an IDF t-shirt and carry two flags, can incite a crowd to lose their reason (if they had any). Most normal people would ignore a single "counterprotestor." And he wasn't even loud, and didn't say anything until the news people asked him questions.
I don't like to talk politics - there are people smarter, more knowledgeable and worldly than I who can discuss these things. In the context of a sermon (or even this blog), politics, to my mind, has no place.
But sometimes, something happens. Sometimes a few people, sent by a greater force, are instructed to find out information. To find out if their target is safe or not, good to go or not, peaceable or not, serving man honorably or not, looking to destroy outsiders or not, looking to bring people under their umbrella of peace or not.
And the result of their actions, their report, can have upheavals that impact the coming decades. After this particular action, no one knows what the future holds. We may not even see the complete unfolding of these events in our lifetimes.
It’s a frightening thought to consider. But as you may have imagined, the events of this week, with the so called Flotilla, are not new events. Kohelet rightly said there is nothing new under the sun. And in what way do the events of Sunday and Monday differ from the story of the spies that we read this morning?
The description I mentioned a moment ago can fit for both stories.
The differences between then and now are in how small our world is, how quickly mass media and the information superhighway get news around the world, and in that Moshe’s connection with God allowed the people to learn, right away, what the outcome of the spies incident would be. In their case, forty years in the wilderness for the forty days they spent spying, and then reporting critically of the land.
Do not misunderstand and think I am judging
Hanging a banner of “Peace activists” is meaningless when you carry a weapon in your back pocket that you will use in an instant. Gandhi was a peace activist. Martin Luther King Jr said brotherhood comes about when people are willing to “work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.” (towards the end, two paragraphs before "my Country Tis of Thee") His form of going to jail was as a result of civil disobedience. Love them or hate them, they caused change through not physically attacking their adversaries.
Standing up for freedom is a completely different outlook than bashing investigating coast guard officers over the head with a metal bar.
In his address in Gettysburg, President Abraham Lincoln said, “The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here.” We know, of course, that he was wrong, but I use the same line about what I say and about what most rabbis say as well on Shabbos morning. Which is why I don’t like to talk about politics.
Politics gets some people riled up, especially when they disagree with someone who they think is so blind to the reality and unaware of the facts. Everyone picks the facts that they want, and spins the “facts” the way they want to see them or present them.
What makes my opinion any better than your opinion?
The only thing that I’ll say is this – and these words are inspired by one of the most clearheaded and brilliant journalists on our side of the aisle, Caroline Glick.
We are living in a frightening time. Between a President who gives every indication that Iran is more his friend than is Israel, and a “United Nations” who claims to be the majority of the opinion of the world when the only time they seem to be united is for one kind of decision, the kind that bashes Israel, the Jewish people have much to be concerned about.
If we aren’t writing to or calling our politicians to express our fear that
The Talmud records in many places שתיקה כהודאה (Yevamos 87b-88a, Baba Metzia 37b), that when one is silent, one gives and indication that one agrees with what is going on and what has been said.
While I will never say that “x happens or happened because of y” I do think it is safe to say that if we do not take action, do not make a loud noise, do not express our disappointment in the current administration’s view of Israel, do not vote out of office people who do not subscribe to the interests that best suit our needs as a people, Israel as we know it will, in the perhaps not-so-distant future, cease to exist. The freedoms we enjoy in this country will come under attack.
It won’t be the fault of a flotilla incident. Much like the spies, spying was not the problem. The problem was the aftermath – the bad reporting –
No, it was not about what took place on the boat. The problem will continue to be in how Jews and nations react to the story. If all people can see is critique, and no one can see Israel’s side, how they were provoked, how they had no chance to look good because the “suicidal activists” didn’t care if they lived or died, it would be understood that the fight is not a simple one. In addition to whatever else people scream about, the longest hatred, what we call anti-Semitism, is what is behind all of the protests, resolutions, and articles slamming the Jewish State.
In their eyes, the world would be a better place were all Jews, particularly those in
The Jews in the time of Moshe followed the masses who criticized the
Only two people, two lone voices, said “This is not right. It is a good land.”
And those two individuals, Yehoshua and Kalev, entered the Promised Land. They got to see what life would be like after those 40 years. They outlived their peers and saw the conclusion of the first redemption. And lived to see what the Promised Land not only looked like, but what it felt like to live in it.
Was there ever true peace in their days? During the tenure of certain leaders there was, before more upheaval, more unrest and more fighting.
What goes around comes around. The
We do not have the luxury of knowing when the redemption will come. Perhaps we don’t know what it will look like.
But if we do nothing to stop those who will say
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Don't Listen To Them - Know Who You Are!
This article appears in the Jewish Star
Parshat Shlach
In the last verse of their statement the spies say, "And there we saw the Nefilim, the sons of the [original] giant of the Nefilim. In our own eyes we felt like grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes [as well]." (13:33)
How did they know how the Nefilim viewed them?
Rashi says they heard the Nefilim saying to one another, "There are ants (N'malim) in the vineyards that look like men."
Siftei Chachamim asks, if they were like grasshoppers, why would Rashi say they were like ants?
There are a few answers to this question.
Some super-commentaries on Rashi suggest that there are always two perspectives. The smaller person always thinks he is bigger than how the bigger person perceives him, while the bigger person always views the smaller person as even smaller than the smaller person perceives himself. Think of how you view houses when you are flying over them in a plane. The house might be huge, but from the plane it is tiny.
In some Chumashim, the text of Rashi includes the word they heard the Nefilim use to describe them in the Torah, Chagavim, in parentheses next to "N'malim" (ants). As such, there are differences of opinion as to what Rashi wrote, even though the standard text has Rashi using the word for ants.
Rashi is actually quoting a passage in Sotah 35a that says the spies were looking around, and when the locals spotted them, they hid in trees. At that point they heard the Nefilim say, "We've seen men that look like 'Kamtzei' hiding in the trees." According to the Jastrow dictionary, Kamtzei might be locusts, ants or snails.
Either way, Chizkuni says when the Torah uses the word "Chagavim" (grasshoppers) it is not a direct quote of what they said, because the term "Chagavim" is used elsewhere as well to refer to small critters. (Isaiah 40:22)
Does it matter how they were perceived? Grasshoppers, ants, locusts, snails? Who cares?
No matter how we translate the term, they were quoting others who said they looked like tiny creatures. The Kotsker Rebbe calls this statement one of the spies’ greatest flaws. It is one thing to come back with a negative report. It is another thing to say you view yourself as a lowly person in comparison to others. But what gives you the right, the Kotsker asks, to give any kind of consideration to how others view you? Why do you care what they think?
This is not just a lesson in avoiding being like the Joneses.
And this is more than just a lesson in being comfortable in your own skin.
In 1971, Rabbi Emmanuel Rackman z"l wrote the following thought in an article in a Zionist publication: "I am a Jew and a Zionist. For me the two commitments are one. Furthermore, I hold this to be the position of historic Judaism...I must firmly ask [non-Jews] to respect my religious convictions as I see them and not as they see them."
In this vein, Rabbi Rackman showed complete understanding of the message the Kotsker Rebbe extracted from this tale, which is a powerful lesson in personal and Jewish identity.
On a personal level, if we are to judge ourselves by the way others see us, particularly when those others are unhappy or negative people, it will be difficult to remove ourselves from the rut we are placed in. Some people experience this when dating, some when being fired from a job - or even while in an unpleasant work environment, some in their interactions with relatives, some in not standing up for themselves when they are insulted.
Others have an attitude that says, "Nobody talks to me that way." More than that sticks and stones and names won't hurt me, we don't have to accept the negativity that comes from others. Criticism and rebuke is one thing, when offered constructively, appropriately, and in a manner that is meant to be helpful. But when it is hurtful, we need not accept it.
As far as Jewish identity, it is high time we look internally not only for those who are not Jewish not to tell us what we stand for, but even in our own ranks to be able to distinguish between what is the letter of the law and what falls into the category of "v'hamachmir tavo alav bracha" (that the personally stringent should be blessed).
There is a distinction between black, white, and gray. Halakha has a range of activities and rulings that are mainstream and acceptable. It is time for all of us to grow more tolerant, and not to impose our personal stringencies on others when they are not in violation of the law. Halakha and observance can be a beautiful lifestyle. But it was never meant to be stifling or to paint people into corners.
And acting or feeling negatively towards other Jews who subscribe to your lifestyle is completely out of place. What gives you the right?
*********************************************
p.s. Everyone is talking about the flotilla sent to Gaza by the Turkish government. There are many parallels between the story of this flotilla, all the bad PR that resulted from it, and even the lesson developed above (which was actually written before the events transpired earlier this week). My sermon this shabbos talks more about this subject.
Parshat Shlach
In the last verse of their statement the spies say, "And there we saw the Nefilim, the sons of the [original] giant of the Nefilim. In our own eyes we felt like grasshoppers, and so we were in their eyes [as well]." (13:33)
How did they know how the Nefilim viewed them?
Rashi says they heard the Nefilim saying to one another, "There are ants (N'malim) in the vineyards that look like men."
Siftei Chachamim asks, if they were like grasshoppers, why would Rashi say they were like ants?
There are a few answers to this question.
Some super-commentaries on Rashi suggest that there are always two perspectives. The smaller person always thinks he is bigger than how the bigger person perceives him, while the bigger person always views the smaller person as even smaller than the smaller person perceives himself. Think of how you view houses when you are flying over them in a plane. The house might be huge, but from the plane it is tiny.
In some Chumashim, the text of Rashi includes the word they heard the Nefilim use to describe them in the Torah, Chagavim, in parentheses next to "N'malim" (ants). As such, there are differences of opinion as to what Rashi wrote, even though the standard text has Rashi using the word for ants.
Rashi is actually quoting a passage in Sotah 35a that says the spies were looking around, and when the locals spotted them, they hid in trees. At that point they heard the Nefilim say, "We've seen men that look like 'Kamtzei' hiding in the trees." According to the Jastrow dictionary, Kamtzei might be locusts, ants or snails.
Either way, Chizkuni says when the Torah uses the word "Chagavim" (grasshoppers) it is not a direct quote of what they said, because the term "Chagavim" is used elsewhere as well to refer to small critters. (Isaiah 40:22)
Does it matter how they were perceived? Grasshoppers, ants, locusts, snails? Who cares?
No matter how we translate the term, they were quoting others who said they looked like tiny creatures. The Kotsker Rebbe calls this statement one of the spies’ greatest flaws. It is one thing to come back with a negative report. It is another thing to say you view yourself as a lowly person in comparison to others. But what gives you the right, the Kotsker asks, to give any kind of consideration to how others view you? Why do you care what they think?
This is not just a lesson in avoiding being like the Joneses.
And this is more than just a lesson in being comfortable in your own skin.
In 1971, Rabbi Emmanuel Rackman z"l wrote the following thought in an article in a Zionist publication: "I am a Jew and a Zionist. For me the two commitments are one. Furthermore, I hold this to be the position of historic Judaism...I must firmly ask [non-Jews] to respect my religious convictions as I see them and not as they see them."
In this vein, Rabbi Rackman showed complete understanding of the message the Kotsker Rebbe extracted from this tale, which is a powerful lesson in personal and Jewish identity.
On a personal level, if we are to judge ourselves by the way others see us, particularly when those others are unhappy or negative people, it will be difficult to remove ourselves from the rut we are placed in. Some people experience this when dating, some when being fired from a job - or even while in an unpleasant work environment, some in their interactions with relatives, some in not standing up for themselves when they are insulted.
Others have an attitude that says, "Nobody talks to me that way." More than that sticks and stones and names won't hurt me, we don't have to accept the negativity that comes from others. Criticism and rebuke is one thing, when offered constructively, appropriately, and in a manner that is meant to be helpful. But when it is hurtful, we need not accept it.
As far as Jewish identity, it is high time we look internally not only for those who are not Jewish not to tell us what we stand for, but even in our own ranks to be able to distinguish between what is the letter of the law and what falls into the category of "v'hamachmir tavo alav bracha" (that the personally stringent should be blessed).
There is a distinction between black, white, and gray. Halakha has a range of activities and rulings that are mainstream and acceptable. It is time for all of us to grow more tolerant, and not to impose our personal stringencies on others when they are not in violation of the law. Halakha and observance can be a beautiful lifestyle. But it was never meant to be stifling or to paint people into corners.
And acting or feeling negatively towards other Jews who subscribe to your lifestyle is completely out of place. What gives you the right?
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p.s. Everyone is talking about the flotilla sent to Gaza by the Turkish government. There are many parallels between the story of this flotilla, all the bad PR that resulted from it, and even the lesson developed above (which was actually written before the events transpired earlier this week). My sermon this shabbos talks more about this subject.
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