To Protect Others From Falling

Parshat Mishpatim 

by Rabbi Avi Billet

תלמוד בבלי מסכת יומא דף פז עמוד א - 

וכל המחטיא את הרבים אין מספיקין בידו לעשות תשובה 

"If a man (though it likely refers to man or woman) opens a pit, or uncovers a pit, and does not cover it (i.e. leaves it uncovered when not working on it), and an ox or donkey fall into it, the owner of the pit (e.g. the one who opened it) must pay money to the owner of the animal, and the [animal's] carcass belongs to him." (21:33-34)

Rashbam spells out the debate regarding to whom the carcass belongs – to whom does "to him" refer? The overall consensus seems to be that the owner is paid and keeps the carcass (Rashi and others). Chizkuni proposes that since the damager is paying in full, he gets to keep the carcass.

I am taking a homiletical leap off the page, because there is a deep lesson that can be taken from the principle involved in this case. The pit is essentially a stumbling block before an unsuspecting being – in this case an animal unprepared to take a potentially dangerous fall – which renders the one responsible for creating the stumbling block as responsible for the ensuing damages which result from the carelessness. The debate over who keeps the carcass can be translated to reflect an idea that both people – the one who causes the stumble (a sin to be committed) as well as the unsuspecting "owner" of the fallen entity (the ensuing "sin") - have ownership over the "carcass," or the sin that wallows in its own negative state.

The Mishnah in Bava Kama 26a says "Adam Muad L'olam," that a person is always responsible for one's choices and actions. Generally this refers to the financial obligations one has for damaging another's property – willfully or accidentally. Even if I leave someone's item on my night-table and accidentally knock it over while I am sleeping, I am responsible. I should have left it in a safer place.

The exception to the rule are cases of "oness" (אונס) – where I am blameless because I was behaving properly and someone else caused me to damage something. If I break something because someone throws me on it, or places it in front of my car as I am driving, or smashes against my property in a manner that is their own fault, I am blameless.

There are many stumbling blocks that we face on a regular basis – it is part of living in a real world. We are tempted with our eyes, we are tempted to gossip, we are tempted to break laws – including those we don't like (e.g. taxes) and those that don't make any sense (e.g. some traffic laws). We are tempted to have the greatest comeback lines, to hurt people with words, and even to hurt people physically.

            

How often do we hear public figures apologizing for things they have said, apologizing for having "misspoken," or for saying things they didn't really mean? (Think Chuck Hagel)

            

When we are loud and obnoxious, we cause others to think ill of us, tempt them to speak lashon hara about us, and may cause them to violate "Do not hate your brother in your heart" (Vayikra 19:17).

            

When we don't take care of ourselves, in appearance (looking shlumpy) and being morbidly obese (excluding reasonable "overweight," and real medical conditions), we cause others to stare, to talk about us, and to judge us. (See Ramban on Vayikra 19:2)

           

When we are scrupulous (or not) about certain stringencies (cholov yisrael in America comes to mind), if we claim those who are not stringent are eating "non-kosher," or say about those who are stringent that they are "totally crazy," we are spreading slander and causing others to look askance at people who are doing nothing wrong.

When we dress provocatively, we invite others to have inappropriate thoughts about us, to look at things they should not be enticed to look at, and to possibly sin in their hearts and minds. People certainly make private choices about how to act upon the things they see – in billboards, in magazines, and on the internet, etc. But that is between them and God. Certainly if they take action involving another person, that becomes their own fault as well. But if we are at fault for causing the private behaviors on account of our choices, those of us who put others in this kind of spiritual harm's way are to blame for the stumbling block, and must "pay" for enticing others to fall. Even if everyone dresses that way at the gym, beach or swimming pool.

  

We live in a world that is challenging enough. With social media, a camera on everything we own, and the ability to share thoughts and messages instantly and worldwide at the click of a button, we must not only be extra careful about what we share and how we share it, but extra careful about how we present ourselves and how others perceive us on account of those choices.

            

There are times when people "check themselves" in my presence, from language choices, or content-of-comment choices, saying things like, "Sorry, rabbi." Why? Am I more obligated to curb my behavior than you are? Am I judging you? Or does my title remind you that there's a Higher Being to Whom we bow, so to speak, and before Whom we must answer one day for our choices?

Any real "Rabbi" will be the first to tell you that rabbis are flawed humans like everyone else, and have similar challenges in terms of stumbling blocks we all face. Everyone "klops Al Cheit" on Yom Kippur. Some rabbis (as well as many devout Jews) take the reminder of the fallout – repercussions from bad choices – seriously, and choose to behave properly as much as possible.

But we all have an obligation to consider the repercussions of the things we say, how we speak, and the ways in which we present ourselves to others in language, dress and commitment to God, in our avoidance of placing pits before others, causing them to stumble.

The donkey and ox are not looking or wanting to step into a pit to injure themselves or die. And those who are exposed to the behaviors that cause them to "fall" would usually prefer to not be tempted by those of us, particularly Torah-observant Jews, who should know better than to present such pitfalls before others who share similar responsibilities in our efforts to maintain a Godly existence.

What are you going to do with the "carcass" of the sin you caused another to commit?

Looking Like An Egyptian

Parshat Sh'mot

by Rabbi Avi Billet

From his first introduction to us, most of the Torah depicts Moshe as the quintessential leader par excellence. The ultimate Jewish figure, he continues to hold that enigmatic quality that Jewish mothers dream about for their children — “Maybe one day you can be as great as Moses.”

And yet, there is one description of him that is so out of character, we wonder how it came to pass that he would be called such. After Moshe saves the daughters of Yitro from the shepherds who were mistreating them, they tell their father that an “Ish Mitzri,” an Egyptian man, saved them from the shepherds (2:19).

Oddly enough, only two other people in the Torah are described as “Ish Mitzri.” The first is Potiphar, Yosef’s first Egyptian master (Bereshit 39:1). The second is the man Moshe killed earlier in our chapter, for striking the Hebrew slave (2:11). The term appears in Vayikra 24:10 as well, but most people identify the Ish Mitzri there (the father of the blasphemer) as the same Egyptian man that Moshe killed in 2:11.

Certainly Moshe has little, if anything, in common with Potiphar and the violent Egyptian. How could the Torah give him the same title as these other Egyptian men?

I do not yet have an explanation as to whether a comparison to Potiphar is valid, unless in his case, as in Moshe’s, it refers to a member of Egyptian aristocracy.

Regardless, Rabbenu Bachaye records a beautiful interpretation that appears in a number of places in the Midrash. Yitro’s daughters were thanking their lucky stars that Moshe was present at the well. It was his flight on account of killing the “Ish Mitzri” of 2:11 that brought him to Midian. In this light, they were saying that the circumstances that brought Moshe to be at that well to save them was on account of an Ish Mitzri whom Moshe killed. In this interpretation, the last three times the term appears in the Torah all refer to the same Ish Mitzri - while the term is not being used to describe Moshe.

Of course, the simple explanation is that Moshe, who grew up in the palace of the king, was dressed like and spoke the language of an Egyptian.

I think that his being an Ish Mitzri here is just another challenge for him to overcome in the pursuit of his identity. Different Midrashim paint his time period in Midian to between 40 and 60 years, meaning he’ll have much time to contemplate who he is and what his mission in life will ultimately be.

The story is told that when the Russian Tzar decreed the Jews could no longer wear “Jewish” clothing, many rabbis felt the need to oppose the legislation and to wear Jewish clothing at all costs. The Kotzker rebbe, on the other hand, was against such an approach, as he felt the only real “Jewish clothing” are the tallis and techelet, both of which can always be worn, either when praying, or underneath one’s outer garments.

Moshe was dressed like a Mitzri, even though he was a Hebrew, says the Midrash. He demonstrated his concern for the other in every encounter he had in the Torah's first depictions of his behavior.

For us, the question becomes one of how much our dressing like the “mitzri” affects who we are as Hebrews. I recall fondly one of the musser talks I heard from one of my high school rebbeim about how “the clothes make the man.” I wonder if I remain a more conservative dresser, to this day, on account of that 20 minute monologue.

I still marvel over how many of us fall into the trap of “needing” to be up-to-date in terms of styles and accessories. While the Kotzker rebbe was right that “Jewish clothing” are a tallis and techeilet, there is also a “Jewish dress code” that the Kotzker rebbe felt no need to refer to because he lived in a time when everyone dressed more conservatively.

The Jewish dress code of modesty is not just one of how much skin or form is exposed to onlookers. That element, one would hope, is more obvious. Modesty is also about how much attention we draw to ourselves on account of what we are wearing. There is nothing wrong with receiving a compliment from those we know, but if even those we don’t know are turning heads and gaping at our chosen form of attire, it is time to reconsider our priorities and whether we are looking too much like a “mitzri.”

Whether Yitro’s daughters referred to the Egyptian Moshe killed or thought he himself was an Egyptian, it did not take long for Moshe to set the record straight and eventually become Moshe Rabbenu. We must take the bull by the horns, swallow our need to be a walking showcase for the latest design and designers and focus on promoting the Jewish dress code of modesty and furthering our own spiritual pursuits.

It’s not just about what part of us people see. It is more about how people see us. And unlike Moshe who soon joined the family who may have viewed him otherwise, we don’t always get to set the record straight.