פרשת שמיני
In this week’s Parsha, the Torah continues to discuss the various offerings relevant to the Mishkan. During this discussion, the Chumash depicts an interesting event that happened involving Moshe, Aharon, and Aharon’s two sons. Apparently, there was a certain offering which was meant to be eaten, and Aharon had his two sons burn the leftovers instead of consuming the entire offering. When Moshe heard about this, he was a little bit shocked that Aharon had ignored his instructions, but at the same time, he did not want to embarrass Aharon by reproaching him, so instead, he came to reprimand Aharon’s two sons. Aharon got the hint that Moshe was really speaking to him, and explained to Moshe his Halachic rationale in wishing to burn the leftovers. When Moshe heard this he realized that he had made a mistake and apologized for his error. Rashi comments that this declaration which Moshe made was extremely commendable in that he wasn’t too proud to admit that he had been mistaken.
R’ Chazkal Levenstein, the famous Mashgiach, is quite puzzled by this Rashi. Usually, admitting when one made a simple error is a trait attributed to simple folk, maybe slightly above average. But Moshe Rabenu was crowned by Hashem Himself with the title, “The most humble man on the face of the earth.” Would we have expected anything less from him? Would we have expected him to defend his incorrect position, and continue scolding his brother Aharon for doing absolutely nothing wrong just to preserve his own honor like a hoodlum? R’ Chazkal explains that the Yetzer Hara doesn’t work exactly the way we think. We picture good and evil in very extreme roles. Many of us tend to visualize the righteous man as one who can stand up to any test, and the wicked man as a diabolical degenerate human being incapable of goodness, but in reality, the evil inclination is far more subtle than that. He first attempts to convince a person to neglect the minutia, and only afterward does he go for the jugular. Similarly, the tendency toward good does not happen all at once, rather we must attempt to do the right thing day in and day out when it comes to all the “little” details. Moshe Rabenu had his daily struggles and didn’t become righteous overnight, and this was one of them. The Torah records this event in his life to show that it was events like these that made him the man he became. The Mashgiach pointed out that the Midrash goes on to say that Moshe announced in front of the entire camp how he had erred and now his brother Aharon had corrected him in order to emphasize and to teach us how important it is to break one’s character traits. It isn’t easy to admit when we’re wrong, but each time we do so, we come a little closer to becoming the God-like human beings we are supposed to evolve into.
R’ Chaim Shmuelevitz understood these events slightly differently. R’ Chaim writes that Moshe Rabenu took a big risk by revealing his error to the entire Jewish people. As we know, Jews are constantly suspicious of the Rabbis that they may have ulterior motives or are capable of making mistakes. Moshe could have had a very realistic concern that the Jews would question the veracity of his transmission from Sinai, and whether or not his memory was intact. Such a situation could have generated a huge desecration of Hashem’s name, and Moshe could have thusly rationalized “covering up” his mistake slightly in order to prevent that disaster. Yet he did not. We learn from his actions that in Judaism the ends never justify the means, and that even a very slight transgression cannot be used to justify an enormously positive outcome. Often people get confused with this point and it behooves us to constantly keep it in mind. R’ Chaim contrasts this with what happened to Moshe at Mei Meriva. There, Moshe was meant to speak to a certain rock to produce water, but he heard the people murmuring to each other that perhaps this was a parlor trick and Moshe had already planned this in advance. However, if he could produce water from a rock they had chosen, that would be truly amazing. So he listened to them, and hit a different rock, reasoning that although Hashem had commanded him to speak with the first rock, when Moshe saw that this wouldn’t have been effective in glorifying Hashem’s name, he reasoned that it was his responsibility to sanctify Hashem’s name by hitting the second rock. Ironically, this was the biggest and the only time Moshe ever managed to desecrate Hashem’s name. In any event, it is clear that Judaism does not subscribe to the idea that the end justify the means.
What is the litmus test to determine whether or not a person’s calculations are genuinely for the sake of Heaven? R’ Chaim asserts that the primary component one needs to factor out is pleasure. If there is any pleasure or personal benefit involved with the decision at hand, then one is automatically disqualified from being able to be objective. For this reason, Moshe felt that he absolutely had to announce his error in front of the entire Jewish encampment, because he feared that his desire to protect his honor may have swayed his decision in how to act. Similarly, Yehuda admitted to the fact that he was responsible for Tamar’s pregnancy, although it meant tremendous embarrassment, because he feared that his decision may have been influenced by his fear of shame. On the other hand, when Moshe hit the rock, there was absolutely no personal benefit involved, so Moshe thought he would be okay, and he would have been correct, if not for the aforementioned factor that this was not what Hashem had commanded. R’ Chaim uses this principle to explain a few cryptic points in the Megillah which we read this past week. Mordechai told Esther to beseech the king on the Jews’ behalf, and that perhaps through her, the Jews would be saved. Esther responded by saying that she had not been called to the king’s inner chambers these past thirty days, and everybody knows that if one approaches the king uninvited, his sentence is unequivocally death. In other words, she was saying, I am not responsible to put myself in danger for the sake of the community. Mordechai responded by telling her not to be concerned with her own safety, meaning that she could not be objective because her own safety was at risk, and any time a person has personal bias involved, it is impossible for them to be objective, and he was telling her that her hesitation was only stemming from her instinct for self-preservation. Esther responded by saying, “כאשר אבדתי, אבדתי” meaning, although I don’t understand what you are saying Mordechai, I accept your ruling as my Rebbi, and your ability to be objective where I cannot.
One of the most compelling arguments to keep Judaism is the fact that much of it appeals to our intellect. But we must realize that this too is another method of “pleasure” and can detract from our true service, which must be motivated solely by the fact that the creator of the Universe commanded it. We are obligated to get drunk on Purim to the point that we no longer know the difference between cursed is Haman and blessed is Mordechai. This commandment seems counterintuitive to everything Jewish, yet based on what we have said, it makes perfect sense. We are meant to show Hashem that our service of Him is not based on our intellect, and even when our IQ has gone down to somewhere near the single digits, and we are not much sharper then a retardate, we are still performing Hashem’s will with the same gusto and enthusiasm as a smart person. This is perhaps the most poignant demonstration that our motives in serving Hashem are not based on our intellect, but rather on what we believe to be true.
May we all merit to serve Hashem with purity of heart and with no ulterior motives!