Parashat Shlach 5781 – Bad Judgement

This week Parasha marks one of the saddest moments of our history. The Bnei Yisrael requested from Moshe to send spies to the land of Canaan to inform them how to conquer it. The chieftains of each tribe were selected as they were the greatest and most revered men amongst the nation. However, they returned with an extremely negative opinion of the promised land. They then convinced the people that the present that Hashem had for us was dangerous and should be refused. The ramification of this episode is felt till today, and much has been taken away from us on that day. The Midrash informs us that the spies returned on the 8th of the month of Av. That night, which was the 9 th of Av, the entire nation was crying, so Hashem promised that on that night, we will be crying forever. This was the night when both temples were destroyed, the inquisition started in Spain, The Shoah started in Germany. You can name any major pogrom that occurred, it started on the 9th of Av. Surely, this seems very distant and does not directly affect us, though, since it is recorded in the Torah and we must read that portion every year, it does indeed relate to our own daily lives as we will elaborate. The main question every commentary asks; it is hard to conceive how a God-fearing Rabbi can fall so low? Now, 9 of the leading Rabbis of the generation that have all sunk is inconceivable. Had Moshe not pray for Yehoshua and Kalev not pour out his heart on the graves of the Patriarch, they would have all sinned terribly. We are commanded to read this Torah portion as all of us fail when faced with similar challenges. We all have in our lives a personal 9 th of Av, as we declined to overcome seemingly simple tests. The question is how do we exit the tunnel we placed ourselves in and return to the light? The Talmud [Sotah 34b] states; “Reish Lakish says, Hashem told Moshe to send “Men of stature” at his own discretion, b reckoning? Before the King of the kings of kings, the Holy One, blessed be he.” This Mishna was written over a thousand-year after the episode of the spies which were much greater scholars, how did this advice not work for them but is supposed to work for us? The Ben Ish Chai [Sotah 34b] offers a novel explanation about their motivations; The spies were truly great people and did not deliberately slander the land of Israel. Their motive was that the Jewish people might only be interested by the great prosperity of the land and fail to enter the land with the proper motives. Indeed, the land of Canaan was the wickedest at that time and to turn it into the holiest land required pure intentions. Consequently, they decided to slander the land with the hope that the Jewish people improve their motives, and would thus turn it into the holy land it was supposed to become. This reasoning was misguided and was the work of the yetzer hara. Hence, Moshe prayed for Yehoshua to be protected from such foolish rationalization, to smear the land is permitted to improve the motives of the people. The Tanya makes a fascinating observation: “if one offers money to a Torah-observant Jew to commit a sin, he will be met with a blatant refusal, as the person understands the spiritual damage far outweighs the material gain. Yet, a person sins without any monetary compensation, and the reason is because he convinces himself that he is not sinning.” The convincing originates from a personal bias. The Zohar reveals that the reason theses great men sinned is due to their fear that different chieftain will be selected after entering the land of Israel. They were learned men, but they lacked in they fear of Hashem. They were biased and rationalized according to their personal interest. Now we understand how this episode affects us too. We are faced daily with a multitude of decisions; do I go to Shul and miss the game or not? The mind is a king at providing foolish excuses, which have unfortunate consequences. To return to the light requires that for each decision to seek the truth in our heart! Here’s an inspiring story: Stepping inside the Jewish quarter of Nikolsburg, the Holy Rabbi Shmelke Horowitz caught sight of the young men loitering near the entrance. Their faces were clean-shaven, adorned by stylish spectacles, and they held thin canes. A style, he thought despondently, inspired by gentile fashion. Trying to counter the waves of modernity sweeping in from the West seemed futile. Had his rabbi, the Maggid of Mezeritch, not insisted he accept the Nikolsburg rabbinical position, he would have turned on his heel and returned home immediately. Instead, he approached the young men, extended his hand greeting, and chided them for abandoning Jewish tradition. “Usually,” he began, “when a person ages—developing white hair, failing eyesight, and difficulty walking unassisted—he realizes his end in this world is near and is inspired to repent. Seeing this, the Yetzer Hara, the evil inclination, introduced a new idea. ‘Already in their youth, I’ll have them shave, walk around with a cane, and wear glasses. This way, as they near death, they’ll remain imput it was not a commandment. Hashem knew they would fail and end up slandering the land of Israel.” Since Hashem knew, why did He go along with the idea? Moshe too was not a stranger to the outcome, as he prayed for his student and even changed his name from Yoshua to Yehoshua, adding him a letter for protection. Knowing what they knew, why did they agree with the people to send the spies? The Mishna [Avos 3:1] says; “Akavya Ben Mahalalel stated, observe three things that will prevent you from sinning; Know from where you come, and where you are going, and before whom you are destined to give an account and reckoning. From where do you come? From a putrid drop. Where are you going? To a place of dust, of worm and of maggot. Before whom you are destined to give an account and Rabbi Shmelke’s rebuke was seen as an invitation to war. Life for the rabbi became unbearable. The “enlightened” Jews employed every strain of power they had. To oust the rabbi, some of the town’s most distinguished community members hinted that perhaps he was wrongly suited for a city as “modern and developed” as Nikolsburg. These words hurt Rabbi Shmelke deeper than any of the other attempts to ruin his life. Hundreds of miles to the west, deep in the Polish heartland, Rabbi Elimelech of Lizhensk was hurrying to the mikvah when a voice stopped him mid-step. “The man who endeavors to save Rabbi Shmelke from his tormentors in Nikolsburg will merit the World to Come!” Rabbi Elimelech turned to the man escorting him. “Did you hear that?” The man answered “heard what”? Rabbi Elimelech repeated his question to a passerby, who only looked at him blankly. After asking multiple people about the voice and receiving the same negative answer, Rabbi Elimelech became convinced the voice was directed at him. Not hesitating for a moment, he flagged over the first wagon he saw and ordered a ride to Nikolsburg, several hundred miles distant. Upon arrival, Rabbi Elimelech approached Rabbi Shmelke and requested his permission to assemble the townspeople for a sermon in the synagogue. “This disrespect has to cease immediately.” “Perhaps take it slowly?” suggested Rabbi Shmelke warily. “This here isn’t Lizhensk. The people in Nikolsburg are not receptive to rebukes, and some things are better left unsaid. I say this only for your own good.” But Rabbi Elimelech insisted. Word of the famous visitor spread throughout town, and at the appointed hour, a crowd—including many of Rabbi Shmelke’s opponents—poured into the synagogue, filling the chamber from wall to wall. Surprisingly, Rabbi Shmelke’s seat was empty. To everyone’s bewilderment, Rabbi Elimelech spoke as though he sympathized with the opponents of the rabbis. He spun arguments for more leniency and less rabbinic involvement, mesmerizing all those present. Not one objected, even after he finally fell silent. “Due to time constraints,” Rabbi Elimelech announced, “I’m unable to complete what I originally planned to say. And so, I would like to invite everyone back tomorrow.” Nikolsburg was still aflame the next day from Rabbi Elimelech’s speech. The crowd in the synagogue swelled beyond capacity, forcing many to crowd outside the doorway. From the podium, Rabbi Elimelech looked around and noticed with satisfaction that all the men, women, and children of the town were waiting eagerly in their seats. He had achieved the first stage of his plan. He picked up where he had left off, only this time he refuted yesterday’s words. Gracefully paired with persuasive proof, Rabbi Elimelech explained that all institutions of our Sages are infallible and must no be altered in the slightest; those who defy their words are wicked and their end will be bitter. Rabbi Elimelech continued to rebut everything he had said previously. Sighs from the crowd, sporadic at first and becoming more frequent with the passing minutes, began to accompany his words. As Rabbi Elimelech persisted in his gentle rebuke, those sighs transitioned into sniffling whimpers and eventually sobs. Not a dry eye remained. The Jewish community of Nikolsburg was churning in the turmoil of repentance. When he felt confident the crowd in the synagogue realized the enormity of their errors, Rabbi Elimelech described the gift from Heaven that was Rabbi Shmelke Horowitz. They had merited such a righteous man, and all they did was try to chase him away. Rabbi Elimelech finished speaking, and a solemn silence followed his words. Without a word, the entire crowd rose, lined up, and began shuffling toward Rabbi Shmelke’s home to apologize—some for the way they treated him, others for failing to defend his honor. Rabbi Shmelke was in his room when he noticed the large crowd heading his way, and he feared the worst. “What has Rabbi Elimelech done to provoke the ire of the entire community?” he wondered in fright. “Now they will be out for blood! What have I done?!” The door opened, and the heads of Nikolsburg’s Jewish community walked in, their heads bowed in shame. “We have come to ask for forgiveness,” said one of them in an undertone, too ashamed to look Rabbi Shmelke in the eye. “Our treatment has been inexcusable. We promise that we will change our ways for good, and this will not happen ever again.” After an emotional farewell from a most grateful Rabbi Shmelke, Rabbi Elimelech departed back to Lizhensk.

Rabbi Fridmann

By Rabbi Fridmann * [email protected] * 305.985.3461

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