The sin of the Golden Calf is one of the most difficult to comprehend episodes in the Torah. The commentaries discuss at length how the Jewish people could stumble in such a severe sin just forty days after the Revelation at Sinai. The events that led up to the sin are similarly clothed in mystery. In particular, the account of how the people came to believe that Moshe Rabbeinu had died Is very difficult to understand: The Torah tells us that the people miscalculated when Moshe would return, believing he should come back one day earlier than was in fact the case. The Gemara elaborates on the details of this mistake. It tells us that the Satan showed them an image of Moshe no longer alive. When they saw this they panicked and demanded that Aaron create for them a new medium through whom they could relate to G-d. One of the difficulties in this passage is the method in which the Satan caused them to sin by showing them an image. Nowhere do see we such a tactic used in other incidents in the Torah. Normally a person sins because he would rationalize that what he was doing was correct. What is the nature of this form of persuasion and why was it necessary for the Satan to show them such an image instead of using the normal methods of persuasion?
Rav Chaim of Volozhin in his classic work, Nefesh HaChaim answers these questions in the course of his discussion on the nature of the yetser hara (evil inclination). In order to do this, he first explains the sin of Adam and Chava, and ends by showing how the events of Mattan Torah (the Giving of the Torah) and the Golden Calf paralleled the state of Adam and Chava before the sin and after the sin: He begins with an analysis of Adam and Chava’s state before the sin: Chazal tell us that before the sin, mankind did not have a yetser hara, yet this does not mean that he did not have free will. He related to evil - in his situation in the form of the nachash (snake) - as something that was totally outside of himself. Its goal was to somehow persuade him to perform an act that was clearly abhorrent to him. The Nefesh HaChaim compares it to a person deciding whether he should step into a fire. However, somehow, the nachash was able to seduce Chava into eating from the fruit of the knowledge of Good and Evil. By eating from this tree, Adam and Chava brought the yetser hara into themselves. This means that they now constituted of a combination of the good that emanated from their pure soul, and the evil that came from the yetser hara.
The result of this was that they were now subject to the main weapon of the yetser hara; confusion. When a person knows that something is clearly wrong he will not do it. The yetser hara’s tactic is to convince him that this sin is actually not a sin at all, in fact it is the correct thing to do. In this vein, Chazal tell us that a person only sins when a ruach shtus overtakes him – this means that he loses touch with his sense of right and wrong and therefore does the wrong thing, whilst convincing himself that it is actually the right thing to do.
The Nefesh HaChaim continues that this state of being continued until Mattan Torah. The Gemara states that the ‘poison’ that Chava ingested when she sinned (ie. the yetser hara) was completely negated when the Jewish people stood at Har Sinai. In this way, the Jewish people returned to the level of Adam before the sin. At this point in time, the people would be able to live eternally as was the case with Adam before he ate from the tree. With this understanding of the state of the people after Mattan Torah, the Nefesh HaChaim explains why the Satan showed an image to the people. They were on such a high level that there was no yetser hara inside them. Accordingly, the yetser hara could not trick them with its regular weapon of internal confusion. Rather, it had to persuade them externally, in the same way that the nachash did with Chava. When the people succumbed to the Satan’s persuasion, the ‘poison’ from the sin returned to them and the yetser hara once again dwelled within them.
We have seen how the Satan was forced to revert to unorthodox methods of persuasion in order to cause the Jewish people to sin with the Golden Calf. However, after they sinned, the Satan re-entered the very being of each person, leaving us with the difficult task of trying to discern the good inside of us from the evil. The yetser hara’s main tool now is to convince us that what we are doing is actually permitted or even a Mitzvo. For example, the Chofetz Chaim zt”l pointed out that many people were speaking lashon hara with the justification that this particular thing they were saying was permissible; or that it was permitted to speak lashon hara about that particular person. The lashon hara speaker did not think he was speaking lashon hara, rather he rationalized that what he was saying did not constitute forbidden speech. In this vein, the Baal HaTania points out that if one were to offer an observant person a large amount of money to speak lashon hara, he will refuse. This is because he intellectually recognizes that no amount of money is worth transgressing a Mitzvo. Yet the same person will, on another occasion, speak lashon hara for no monetary gain! This is because he convinces himself that he is not speaking lashon hara at all.
How can a person begin the long journey in discerning between the yetser tov and the yetser hara that is inside of him? One vital tool is Torah learning. If a person learns the laws of lashon hara, for example he will find it much harder to rationalize that what he is saying is permissible. Likewise, learning Mussar helps a person understand how his yetser hara works, and act accordingly. The other essential tool is that of Cheshbon HaNefesh (accounting of the soul). This involves a regular analysis of one’s actions and can enable a person to look back and rationally analyze the true nature of his actions. It is highly recommended to seek assistance in how to do Cheshbon HaNefesh in the proper way. With a concerted and long-term effort at learning Torah and self-analysis a person can begin the long journey back to gaining true clarity as to good and evil.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
PURIM - MISHLOACH MANOS AND MATANOS LA’EVYONIM
Among the unique features of Purim are the mitzvos of giving to one’s fellow Jew. We are obligated to give mishloach manos and matanos la’evyonim. No other festival requires such chesed. What is the thematic connection between these mitzvos and Purim?
When Haman approaches Achashverosh with a plan to destroy the Jewish people, he outlines why they do not deserve to live: “There is one nation scattered and dispersed among the peoples.” The commentaries explain that Haman’s criticism of the Jews was accurate and helped convince the king that Hashem would not protect them. Haman argued that the Jews were not unified, so they lacked the Divine protection they merited when they were.
Accordingly, one of the most powerful ways of annuling the decree of destruction from Above was to reunify the Jewish people. Rav Yehonasan Eibschutz, ztz”l, explains that this was Esther’s intention when she instructed Mordechai: “Go, assemble all the Jews to be found in Shushan, and fast for me.” She recognized that only a concerted effort could overturn the decree.
This approach succeeded. Indeed, according to the Vilna Gaon, ztz”l, several verses in the megillah demonstrate that the Jews displayed great unity when they finally gained the upper hand against their enemies. “The rest of the Jews throughout the king’s provinces gathered together and defended themselves (amad al nafsham).” The Gaon notes that the verb amad is singular, for they were completely unified, as if they were one entity. Soon afterward, when Mordechai instituted the festival of Purim, “The Jews undertook (kibel) to continue the practice they had begun….” Again, the word kibel is singular. The Sifsei Chaim adds a similar explanation to the famous verse in which, according to Chazal, the Jews willingly reaccepted the Torah: “They affirmed and undertook… to observe these two days….” The Hebrew term for “undertook” is read as kiblu, in the plural form, but it is written as kibel, in the singular, because they accepted the Torah in complete unity.
Given the significance of unity in the Purim story, it is easy to understand why Chazal instituted mitzvos in the interpersonal realm. Purim reminds us of the importance of unity within the Jewish people. Giving to our fellow Jews helps us care more about them. Moreover, it is not enough to give to one’s friends; he must not ignore the destitute, who are easily forgotten. Therefore, in addition to mishloach manos, Chazal obligated us in matanos la’evyonim.
We now understand that disunity was a key factor in the decree against the Jews and that unity played a significant role in averting this decree. However, why were the Jews were so lacking in unity, and how were they were able to rectify this flaw? The Sifsei Chaim addresses this issue by citing Rabbeinu Yonah’s interpretation of a verse in Mishlei. Shlomo HaMelech writes: “L’ta’avah yevakesh nifrad….” Rabbeinu Yonah explains this verse to mean that a person who follow his desires will become alienated from his friends. For one’s natural desires are inherently self-serving and clash with everyone else’s. Accordingly, if a person cares only about himself, his goals will diverge from others’. A society full of such people possesses no unity. Haman understood that the Jewish people had become influenced by the ideologies and desires of its various host countries. Therefore, says the Sifsei Chaim, Haman stressed to Achashverosh that the Jews were “scattered and dispersed among the nations,” for that was the cause of their disunity. Each Jew’s goals were influenced by those of the surrounding societies, so there was no unity within the Jewish people as a whole.
Rabbeinu Yonah continues that the key to unity lies in a common goal: serving Hashem. The Jews’ role in the world is to promote this goal. When they do so, contention and competition dissipate, allowing them to focus on Hashem’s will. Thus, when the Torah was given at Sinai, the Jews were so unified that they were “like one man with one heart,” for they all focused on accepting the Torah; had they quarreled, they could have accepted it properly.
Esther recognized that the Jewish people’s disunity stemmed from divergent goals, which in turn stemmed from self-interest. Accordingly, she gathered the people together to fast. Abstaining from food and drink can reduce a person’s attachment to his physical desires and help him focus on Hashem. Thus, fasting helped the Jews reconnect with their true, common goal of doing Hashem’s will.
Similarly, it is no coincidence that the unity the Jews achieved when they fought their enemies came about after fasting on the thirteenth of Adar. Again, fasting weakened their own selfish desires and focused everyone on Hashem. Moreover, this level of unity enabled them to reaccept the Torah.
With this insight into the connection between physical desires and disunity, we can now gain a deeper understanding of mishloach manos and matanos la’evyonim. To reattain the level of unity that the Jews reached, we must detach ourselves from these desires. This task is especially difficult on Purim, when we greatly involve ourselves in the physical world. Giving gifts and money to our fellow Jews is an excellent way of not getting pulled down into the selfishness that results from self-gratification. By thinking about and giving to others, we can ensure that our eating and drinking place us closer to Hashem, not farther from Him.
Purim reminds us of the importance of Jewish national unity. May we focus all our energies on the common goal of fulfilling Hashem’s will.
When Haman approaches Achashverosh with a plan to destroy the Jewish people, he outlines why they do not deserve to live: “There is one nation scattered and dispersed among the peoples.” The commentaries explain that Haman’s criticism of the Jews was accurate and helped convince the king that Hashem would not protect them. Haman argued that the Jews were not unified, so they lacked the Divine protection they merited when they were.
Accordingly, one of the most powerful ways of annuling the decree of destruction from Above was to reunify the Jewish people. Rav Yehonasan Eibschutz, ztz”l, explains that this was Esther’s intention when she instructed Mordechai: “Go, assemble all the Jews to be found in Shushan, and fast for me.” She recognized that only a concerted effort could overturn the decree.
This approach succeeded. Indeed, according to the Vilna Gaon, ztz”l, several verses in the megillah demonstrate that the Jews displayed great unity when they finally gained the upper hand against their enemies. “The rest of the Jews throughout the king’s provinces gathered together and defended themselves (amad al nafsham).” The Gaon notes that the verb amad is singular, for they were completely unified, as if they were one entity. Soon afterward, when Mordechai instituted the festival of Purim, “The Jews undertook (kibel) to continue the practice they had begun….” Again, the word kibel is singular. The Sifsei Chaim adds a similar explanation to the famous verse in which, according to Chazal, the Jews willingly reaccepted the Torah: “They affirmed and undertook… to observe these two days….” The Hebrew term for “undertook” is read as kiblu, in the plural form, but it is written as kibel, in the singular, because they accepted the Torah in complete unity.
Given the significance of unity in the Purim story, it is easy to understand why Chazal instituted mitzvos in the interpersonal realm. Purim reminds us of the importance of unity within the Jewish people. Giving to our fellow Jews helps us care more about them. Moreover, it is not enough to give to one’s friends; he must not ignore the destitute, who are easily forgotten. Therefore, in addition to mishloach manos, Chazal obligated us in matanos la’evyonim.
We now understand that disunity was a key factor in the decree against the Jews and that unity played a significant role in averting this decree. However, why were the Jews were so lacking in unity, and how were they were able to rectify this flaw? The Sifsei Chaim addresses this issue by citing Rabbeinu Yonah’s interpretation of a verse in Mishlei. Shlomo HaMelech writes: “L’ta’avah yevakesh nifrad….” Rabbeinu Yonah explains this verse to mean that a person who follow his desires will become alienated from his friends. For one’s natural desires are inherently self-serving and clash with everyone else’s. Accordingly, if a person cares only about himself, his goals will diverge from others’. A society full of such people possesses no unity. Haman understood that the Jewish people had become influenced by the ideologies and desires of its various host countries. Therefore, says the Sifsei Chaim, Haman stressed to Achashverosh that the Jews were “scattered and dispersed among the nations,” for that was the cause of their disunity. Each Jew’s goals were influenced by those of the surrounding societies, so there was no unity within the Jewish people as a whole.
Rabbeinu Yonah continues that the key to unity lies in a common goal: serving Hashem. The Jews’ role in the world is to promote this goal. When they do so, contention and competition dissipate, allowing them to focus on Hashem’s will. Thus, when the Torah was given at Sinai, the Jews were so unified that they were “like one man with one heart,” for they all focused on accepting the Torah; had they quarreled, they could have accepted it properly.
Esther recognized that the Jewish people’s disunity stemmed from divergent goals, which in turn stemmed from self-interest. Accordingly, she gathered the people together to fast. Abstaining from food and drink can reduce a person’s attachment to his physical desires and help him focus on Hashem. Thus, fasting helped the Jews reconnect with their true, common goal of doing Hashem’s will.
Similarly, it is no coincidence that the unity the Jews achieved when they fought their enemies came about after fasting on the thirteenth of Adar. Again, fasting weakened their own selfish desires and focused everyone on Hashem. Moreover, this level of unity enabled them to reaccept the Torah.
With this insight into the connection between physical desires and disunity, we can now gain a deeper understanding of mishloach manos and matanos la’evyonim. To reattain the level of unity that the Jews reached, we must detach ourselves from these desires. This task is especially difficult on Purim, when we greatly involve ourselves in the physical world. Giving gifts and money to our fellow Jews is an excellent way of not getting pulled down into the selfishness that results from self-gratification. By thinking about and giving to others, we can ensure that our eating and drinking place us closer to Hashem, not farther from Him.
Purim reminds us of the importance of Jewish national unity. May we focus all our energies on the common goal of fulfilling Hashem’s will.
PURIM - KEEPING HOPE
The Gemara tells us that the terrible decree to destroy the Jewish people in the Purim story was a punishment for the Jews’ partaking of the banquet of Achashverosh. Throughout the period of the first Beis HaMikdash, the prophets rebuked the Jewish people for terrible sins, including idolatry, yet the nation never sentenced to universal destruction. Why such a drastic punishment for the seemingly minor offense of eating at the king’s banquet?
To answer this question, let us first discuss Achashverosh’s intentions in throwing such a lavish party. Chazal tell us that the drinks were served in the vessels used in the Beis HaMikdash. The king even donned the clothes of the Kohen Gadol. What was Achashverosh trying to achieve? Rav Chaim Halpern, shlita, explains that until this point, Achashverosh had been worried about the prophecy of Yirmeyahu that the Jewish people would return to Eretz Yisrael and rebuild the Beis HaMikdash seventy years after its destruction. The king calculated that seventy years had now passed without any sign of the prophecy’s fulfillment. Consequently, he held the feast on the exact day that he had calculated was the “deadline.” He was telling the Jews to give up on the Beis HaMikdash and focus on an alternative source of happiness: his kingdom. Therefore, he dressed up as the Kohen Gadol to show that he was their new leader, and he gave them the Temple vessels to show that there was no point in waiting any longer for the Beis HaMikdash to be rebuilt.
Unfortunately, the Jewish people accepted the king’s message and joined in the banquet, even drinking from the holy vessels. The Jews lost hope. They abandoned their desire for a second Beis HaMikdash and turned to a new future, as loyal subjects of the king and his empire. In effect, they gave up on their unique role as the Chosen People, the “light unto the nations.” They forsook any hope of returning to Eretz Yisrael and the Beis HaMikdash. They did not realize that the Jewish people’s very right to existence is based on its unique role in the world. Hashem cherishes this nation because of its willingness to serve as an am segulah, teaching the world about Him. Having rejected this role, the Jews automatically lost their reason to be. Measure for measure, they were sentenced to destruction.
How did the Jewish people overturn this decree? The Gemara tells us of the conversation that took place when Haman came to inform Mordechai of how the king wanted to honor him. Haman found Mordechai learning Torah. Haman asked, “What are you learning?” Mordechai answered, “When the Beis HaMikdash existed, a person who gave a minchah offering would bring a handful of flour, and it would atone for him.” Upon hearing this, Haman replied, “Your handful of flour will come and overturn my ten thousand silver shekalim.” The Gemara is very difficult to understand here. What was the significance of what Mordechai was learning, and why did it make Haman realize he would be defeated? The Ponevezher Rav explains that Haman knew his hope of success lay in the defeatism expressed by the Jewish people at the banquet. When he saw Mordechai teaching about the Beis HaMikdash, Haman realized that the Jews had repented and rekindled their desire for a new Temple. They still hoped to continue being the “light unto the nations.” And if the Jews had not given up on Hashem, He would not give up on them.
The nisayon of the Jews in the time of Purim was to maintain hope during trying times. This challenge continues to this very day, and when we fail, our enemies conclude that they can defeat us. The story is told of an infamous Arab terrorist serving time in an Israeli prison. While there, he considered renouncing terrorism, feeling that he could never succeed in destroying Israel. However, one Pesach, he saw an Israeli guard eating a pitah. Knowing that chametz was forbidden on Pesach, he asked why the Jew was not observing this law. The guard replied that such laws were no longer important. The terrorist then decided that a people that had given up its heritage could indeed be defeated.
In stark contrast, Napoleon was amazed to discover that the Jews still mourned the Beis HaMikdash on Tishah b’Av though it had been destroyed nearly 2,000 years earlier. A people so connected to its heritage would never be destroyed, he exclaimed.
We live in a time when despair threatens on many levels. For nonobservant Jews, the test is obvious: not to abandon their heritage by assimilating into secular culture. But the challenge applies to everyone in some form. First, one may be tempted to give up on the millions of secular Jews, arguing that they are irretrievably lost to assimilation. This attitude is of course incorrect, and experience has proven that secular Jewry can be quite easily reconnected to Judaism. Second, observance does not preclude despair. Indeed, the Jews who partook of the king’s banquet ate kosher food. A person can keep mitzvos and still wonder if there will ever be a third Beis HaMikdash and if Mashiach will really come. Moreover, despair can plague our personal lives, persuading us that we will never achieve greatness. Purim teaches us never to give up, both on the Jewish people and on ourselves. As long as we seek to remain part of Hashem’s nation, He will protect us from all our enemies.
To answer this question, let us first discuss Achashverosh’s intentions in throwing such a lavish party. Chazal tell us that the drinks were served in the vessels used in the Beis HaMikdash. The king even donned the clothes of the Kohen Gadol. What was Achashverosh trying to achieve? Rav Chaim Halpern, shlita, explains that until this point, Achashverosh had been worried about the prophecy of Yirmeyahu that the Jewish people would return to Eretz Yisrael and rebuild the Beis HaMikdash seventy years after its destruction. The king calculated that seventy years had now passed without any sign of the prophecy’s fulfillment. Consequently, he held the feast on the exact day that he had calculated was the “deadline.” He was telling the Jews to give up on the Beis HaMikdash and focus on an alternative source of happiness: his kingdom. Therefore, he dressed up as the Kohen Gadol to show that he was their new leader, and he gave them the Temple vessels to show that there was no point in waiting any longer for the Beis HaMikdash to be rebuilt.
Unfortunately, the Jewish people accepted the king’s message and joined in the banquet, even drinking from the holy vessels. The Jews lost hope. They abandoned their desire for a second Beis HaMikdash and turned to a new future, as loyal subjects of the king and his empire. In effect, they gave up on their unique role as the Chosen People, the “light unto the nations.” They forsook any hope of returning to Eretz Yisrael and the Beis HaMikdash. They did not realize that the Jewish people’s very right to existence is based on its unique role in the world. Hashem cherishes this nation because of its willingness to serve as an am segulah, teaching the world about Him. Having rejected this role, the Jews automatically lost their reason to be. Measure for measure, they were sentenced to destruction.
How did the Jewish people overturn this decree? The Gemara tells us of the conversation that took place when Haman came to inform Mordechai of how the king wanted to honor him. Haman found Mordechai learning Torah. Haman asked, “What are you learning?” Mordechai answered, “When the Beis HaMikdash existed, a person who gave a minchah offering would bring a handful of flour, and it would atone for him.” Upon hearing this, Haman replied, “Your handful of flour will come and overturn my ten thousand silver shekalim.” The Gemara is very difficult to understand here. What was the significance of what Mordechai was learning, and why did it make Haman realize he would be defeated? The Ponevezher Rav explains that Haman knew his hope of success lay in the defeatism expressed by the Jewish people at the banquet. When he saw Mordechai teaching about the Beis HaMikdash, Haman realized that the Jews had repented and rekindled their desire for a new Temple. They still hoped to continue being the “light unto the nations.” And if the Jews had not given up on Hashem, He would not give up on them.
The nisayon of the Jews in the time of Purim was to maintain hope during trying times. This challenge continues to this very day, and when we fail, our enemies conclude that they can defeat us. The story is told of an infamous Arab terrorist serving time in an Israeli prison. While there, he considered renouncing terrorism, feeling that he could never succeed in destroying Israel. However, one Pesach, he saw an Israeli guard eating a pitah. Knowing that chametz was forbidden on Pesach, he asked why the Jew was not observing this law. The guard replied that such laws were no longer important. The terrorist then decided that a people that had given up its heritage could indeed be defeated.
In stark contrast, Napoleon was amazed to discover that the Jews still mourned the Beis HaMikdash on Tishah b’Av though it had been destroyed nearly 2,000 years earlier. A people so connected to its heritage would never be destroyed, he exclaimed.
We live in a time when despair threatens on many levels. For nonobservant Jews, the test is obvious: not to abandon their heritage by assimilating into secular culture. But the challenge applies to everyone in some form. First, one may be tempted to give up on the millions of secular Jews, arguing that they are irretrievably lost to assimilation. This attitude is of course incorrect, and experience has proven that secular Jewry can be quite easily reconnected to Judaism. Second, observance does not preclude despair. Indeed, the Jews who partook of the king’s banquet ate kosher food. A person can keep mitzvos and still wonder if there will ever be a third Beis HaMikdash and if Mashiach will really come. Moreover, despair can plague our personal lives, persuading us that we will never achieve greatness. Purim teaches us never to give up, both on the Jewish people and on ourselves. As long as we seek to remain part of Hashem’s nation, He will protect us from all our enemies.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
THE BEHALA OF THE PERSIANS - INSIGHTS INTO THE MEGILLA
- There are numerous lessons that can be gleaned from a close analysis of Megillas Esther. One of the less discussed aspects of the Megilla is the fact that it is one of the main accounts of the second Galus (exile), that of Paras and Madai. It is extremely important to understand the nature of the four exiles because they represent the basic forms of evil in the world. We see this from the Medrash's explanation of the second verse in Chumash. The Torah states: "And the earth was tohu and bohu , with darkness upon the surface of the deep; and the Divine Presence hovered upon the surface of the waters." The Medrash reveals to us a deeper allusion of the passuk. "..'The land was tohu', this is the Kingdom of Bavel, as it says, 'I have seen the land and behold it is tohu.' And bohu, this is the kingdom of Madai, as it says, 'And they rushed (vayavheelu) to bring Haman.' ...
The Maharal explains that right at the outset of creation, there were four aspects of evil that permeated the world, and these were exemplified by the four nations who exiled the Jewish people. Accordingly, it is very important to understand the specific aspect of evil of each nation of exile. What is the unique feature of the Persians? The Medrash describes them as representing the word 'bohu' in the verse, which relates to the word in Megillas Esther of 'vayavheelu'. This comes from the root of the word, 'behala'. which has no single translation in English; it relates to rashness, confusion and rushed behavior.
Why does the Medrash characterize the Persians as exemplifying the trait of behala? The Be'er Yosef offers a number of examples of the Persian’s behavior that demonstrate that they possessed this destructive trait. He brings the gemara in Megilla that describes the Persian King, Achashverosh, as one who constantly changed his mind, because of hasty decisions.. We see this when he rapidly has his wife Vashti killed, and then soon after, regrets his decision. Similarly, he swiftly orders the execution of Haman. One Rav explained that had Haman gone through a judicial process it is likely that Achashverosh would have calmed down and refrained from executing him. This rashness was not limited to the King. The gemara further states that when the King sent out the letter ordering the murder of the Jews in several months' time, the people would have killed them immediately if not for their suspicion about such letters. The Be'er Yosef points out that it was this trait of behala that posed such a danger to the Jewish people in this Galus, because when a person acts rashly, there is the risk that he will make drastic and often damaging decisions.
We see the seriousness of the trait of behala most starkly in the rebuke that Yaakov Avinu gave to his son, Reuven. Many years earlier, Reuven had sinned by moving Yaakov's bed. Yaakov criticized him for the rashness of his action. As a result of this character trait, Reuven lost his right to the bechora (first-born), his role as King, and his status as the Kohen (priest). It is evident from the harsh consequences of his momentary rashness, that the trait of behala is considered highly damaging. Rashness causes a person to make impulsive decisions without giving sufficient consideration to the consequences of one's actions. This seems to have been Yaakov's criticism of Reuven's action in moving his father's bed. He acted impulsively without considering the consequences of his actions.
It is evident that rash behavior is clearly the cause of much of the negativity that plagues relationships. Hurtful words are usually said on the spur of the moment, as are outbursts of anger. By refraining from acting or reacting immediately to events, a person can eliminate much of the dangerous rashness that causes so much damage. In this vein, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt"l explains that the antidote to the trait of behala is provided by the Mishna in Avos: "Be deliberate in judgment." This teaches us that one should carefully assess his actions carefully before he performs them.
We learn from the Megilla that the second Galus was characterized by the trait of behala. This remains a trait that plagues our lives. May we all merit to overcome it.
The Maharal explains that right at the outset of creation, there were four aspects of evil that permeated the world, and these were exemplified by the four nations who exiled the Jewish people. Accordingly, it is very important to understand the specific aspect of evil of each nation of exile. What is the unique feature of the Persians? The Medrash describes them as representing the word 'bohu' in the verse, which relates to the word in Megillas Esther of 'vayavheelu'. This comes from the root of the word, 'behala'. which has no single translation in English; it relates to rashness, confusion and rushed behavior.
Why does the Medrash characterize the Persians as exemplifying the trait of behala? The Be'er Yosef offers a number of examples of the Persian’s behavior that demonstrate that they possessed this destructive trait. He brings the gemara in Megilla that describes the Persian King, Achashverosh, as one who constantly changed his mind, because of hasty decisions.. We see this when he rapidly has his wife Vashti killed, and then soon after, regrets his decision. Similarly, he swiftly orders the execution of Haman. One Rav explained that had Haman gone through a judicial process it is likely that Achashverosh would have calmed down and refrained from executing him. This rashness was not limited to the King. The gemara further states that when the King sent out the letter ordering the murder of the Jews in several months' time, the people would have killed them immediately if not for their suspicion about such letters. The Be'er Yosef points out that it was this trait of behala that posed such a danger to the Jewish people in this Galus, because when a person acts rashly, there is the risk that he will make drastic and often damaging decisions.
We see the seriousness of the trait of behala most starkly in the rebuke that Yaakov Avinu gave to his son, Reuven. Many years earlier, Reuven had sinned by moving Yaakov's bed. Yaakov criticized him for the rashness of his action. As a result of this character trait, Reuven lost his right to the bechora (first-born), his role as King, and his status as the Kohen (priest). It is evident from the harsh consequences of his momentary rashness, that the trait of behala is considered highly damaging. Rashness causes a person to make impulsive decisions without giving sufficient consideration to the consequences of one's actions. This seems to have been Yaakov's criticism of Reuven's action in moving his father's bed. He acted impulsively without considering the consequences of his actions.
It is evident that rash behavior is clearly the cause of much of the negativity that plagues relationships. Hurtful words are usually said on the spur of the moment, as are outbursts of anger. By refraining from acting or reacting immediately to events, a person can eliminate much of the dangerous rashness that causes so much damage. In this vein, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz zt"l explains that the antidote to the trait of behala is provided by the Mishna in Avos: "Be deliberate in judgment." This teaches us that one should carefully assess his actions carefully before he performs them.
We learn from the Megilla that the second Galus was characterized by the trait of behala. This remains a trait that plagues our lives. May we all merit to overcome it.
PROVIDENCE VERSUS CHANCE - MEGILLA INSIGHTS
One of the recurring themes in the story of Purim is the conflicting ideologies of the Jewish people and Amalek. The Jewish people believe that Divine Providence guides history, nothing is mere ‘coincidence’. In stark contrast, Amalek believe that everything happens by mere chance (mikreh). Rav Yaakov Kamenetsky zt”l brought out a fascinating idea with regard to this ideological clash. He began in Parshas Mikeitz, where Yaakov Avinu refuses to send Binyomin to Mitzrayim. He explained his fear that “perhaps a disaster will happen. Rav Kamenetsky noted that the Hebrew word for ‘happening’ of ‘mikreh’ is spelt here with an ‘aleph’. In Parshas Vayigash, Yehuda recalls the words of Yaakov to the Egyptian Viceroy . “If you also take this one [Biinyomin] from me, a disaster may happen..” On this occasion, the letter ‘aleph’ is omitted from the word, ‘mikreh‘. What is the reason for this change?
Rav Kamenetsky explains, that the regular spelling of the word, ‘mikreh’ is without an aleph, and in this form it refers to mere chance. However, when an ‘aleph’ is added, the word ’kara’ (call) is formed. This means that an event is ’called from Heaven’, referring to the fact that there is no coincidence, rather everything takes place because of Divine Providence. With this explanation we can understand the divergence of the spelling of the word, ‘mikreh’. when Yaakov is speaking to Yehuda, he expresses his fear that, if Binyomin would travel to Egypt, Divine Providence may decree that some kind of disaster should befall him. Yaakov was well aware that anything that could happen would not be due to mere chance. When Yehuda was recalling Yaakov’s words he was speaking to Yosef, whom he thought was a non-Jew who was unaware of Divine Providence. Accordingly, he could not express Yaakov’s attitude with regard to Divine Providence because he knew that a non-Jew could not relate to such a concept. Accordingly, he expressed the word, ‘mikreh’ without the ‘aleph’ to refer to mere chance.
Dayan Chanoch Erentrau shlita asked Rav Kamenetsky that a passuk from Megillas Esther seemed to contradict the explanation that ‘mikreh’ without an ‘aleph’ refers to an expression of mere chance. After Mordechai became aware of the Decree to destroy the Jewish people he began mourning. Esther sent her messenger, Hasach to find out what had happened. The Megilla writes, “And Mordechai told him about everything that had happened..” In this instance, the word, ‘mikreh’ is written without an ‘aleph’, which alludes to a belief in chance.. According to Rav Kamenetsky’s aforementioned explanation, this should imply that Mordechai was describing the events that had taken place as being a result of mere chance, and not Divine Providence!
Rav Kamenetksy answered him that the Medrash dealt with this problem. The Medrash notes the use of the word, ‘mikreh’ and explains that Mordechai was alluding to the fact that the nation that epitomizes the belief in chance, was behind the decree to destroy the Jews. That nation was Amalek, of whom the Torah writes, “who happened (korcha) upon you on the way.” Thus, Mordechai was not attributing the Decree to chance, rather he was telling Esther that the Decree was initiated by a member of the nation of Amalek (Haman), who represent the belief that everything is mere ‘mikreh’ (chance).
On a deeper level, it seems that Mordechai was telling Esther that the reason that Amalek were able to threaten the Jews with destruction, was the very same reason that they were able to attack the Jewish people in the desert. The people had expressed their doubts about the presence of HaShem in their midst, when they exclaimed, “is HaShem amongst us or not?!” When the Jewish people attribute events to chance, HaShem measure for measure, allows us to be subject to the rules of chance and ceases protecting us. Therefore, the people’s questioning of Divine Providence enabled Amalek, the ultimate deniers of such Providence, to attack. So too, at the beginning of the Purim story, the Jewish people were far less aware of HaShem’s presence amongst them due to the loss of the Temple and the exile. This decline in belief in Divine Providence gave Haman the ability to threaten them. Only by recognizing that HaShem drives all events, good or bad, could they merit Divine intervention to save them. May we merit to see HaShem’s Hand in everything that takes place around us.
Rav Kamenetsky explains, that the regular spelling of the word, ‘mikreh’ is without an aleph, and in this form it refers to mere chance. However, when an ‘aleph’ is added, the word ’kara’ (call) is formed. This means that an event is ’called from Heaven’, referring to the fact that there is no coincidence, rather everything takes place because of Divine Providence. With this explanation we can understand the divergence of the spelling of the word, ‘mikreh’. when Yaakov is speaking to Yehuda, he expresses his fear that, if Binyomin would travel to Egypt, Divine Providence may decree that some kind of disaster should befall him. Yaakov was well aware that anything that could happen would not be due to mere chance. When Yehuda was recalling Yaakov’s words he was speaking to Yosef, whom he thought was a non-Jew who was unaware of Divine Providence. Accordingly, he could not express Yaakov’s attitude with regard to Divine Providence because he knew that a non-Jew could not relate to such a concept. Accordingly, he expressed the word, ‘mikreh’ without the ‘aleph’ to refer to mere chance.
Dayan Chanoch Erentrau shlita asked Rav Kamenetsky that a passuk from Megillas Esther seemed to contradict the explanation that ‘mikreh’ without an ‘aleph’ refers to an expression of mere chance. After Mordechai became aware of the Decree to destroy the Jewish people he began mourning. Esther sent her messenger, Hasach to find out what had happened. The Megilla writes, “And Mordechai told him about everything that had happened..” In this instance, the word, ‘mikreh’ is written without an ‘aleph’, which alludes to a belief in chance.. According to Rav Kamenetsky’s aforementioned explanation, this should imply that Mordechai was describing the events that had taken place as being a result of mere chance, and not Divine Providence!
Rav Kamenetksy answered him that the Medrash dealt with this problem. The Medrash notes the use of the word, ‘mikreh’ and explains that Mordechai was alluding to the fact that the nation that epitomizes the belief in chance, was behind the decree to destroy the Jews. That nation was Amalek, of whom the Torah writes, “who happened (korcha) upon you on the way.” Thus, Mordechai was not attributing the Decree to chance, rather he was telling Esther that the Decree was initiated by a member of the nation of Amalek (Haman), who represent the belief that everything is mere ‘mikreh’ (chance).
On a deeper level, it seems that Mordechai was telling Esther that the reason that Amalek were able to threaten the Jews with destruction, was the very same reason that they were able to attack the Jewish people in the desert. The people had expressed their doubts about the presence of HaShem in their midst, when they exclaimed, “is HaShem amongst us or not?!” When the Jewish people attribute events to chance, HaShem measure for measure, allows us to be subject to the rules of chance and ceases protecting us. Therefore, the people’s questioning of Divine Providence enabled Amalek, the ultimate deniers of such Providence, to attack. So too, at the beginning of the Purim story, the Jewish people were far less aware of HaShem’s presence amongst them due to the loss of the Temple and the exile. This decline in belief in Divine Providence gave Haman the ability to threaten them. Only by recognizing that HaShem drives all events, good or bad, could they merit Divine intervention to save them. May we merit to see HaShem’s Hand in everything that takes place around us.
THE MEIL AND THE KETORES - TETZAVEH
"You shall make the Robe of the Ephod entirely of turquoise wool.... You shall make on its hem pomegranates of turquoise, purple, and scarlet wool, on its hem all around, and gold bells between them, all around; a gold bell and a pomegranate, a gold bell and a pomegranate on the hem of the robe, all around. "
One of the Vestements of the Kohen Gadol was the Meil, a robe that was adorned with bells and rang whenever the Kohen Gadol walked. The Gemara in Arachin discusses how all of the Kohen Gadol's Vestements atoned for a particular aveiro; the meil atoned for the sin of lashon hara. The Gemara explains that the meil, which made a loud kol (sound) should atone for lashon hara which makes a loud kol. However, the Gemara brings a seemingly contradictory braissa that says that the ketores (incense) that was used in the Mishkan atones for lashon hara. It answers that there are two different types of lashon hara; the ketores atones for a more 'quiet' form lashon hara, when the speaker hides his true feelings from the subject of his criticism and therefore the 'victim' of the lashon hara has no awareness that someone is criticizing him. In contrast, the lashon hara that is atoned for by the meil is characterized by the speaker making no secret of his true feelings about the victim to the extent that the victim is very likely to be aware of what is being said about him .
However, this explanation of the Gemara seems to pose a new difficulty; why is it necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for the single sin of lashon hara; why can't either the meil or the ketores atone for both 'loud' and 'quiet' lashon hara? Moreover, it would seem that loud lashon hara is significantly more damaging than 'quiet' lashon hara. Therefore, if the meil has the power to atone for the more severe form of lashon hara, then it should surely be able to atone for the seemingly less damaging 'quiet' lashon hara?
In order to answer this question it is necessary to understand more specifically the negative aspects of these two forms of lashon hara: Loud lashon hara is very damaging in that the victim is aware of the evil speech that is directed towards him and this naturally causes him great pain. In this aspect, loud lashon hara is considered more destructive than its quieter counterpart. However, there is a certain way in which 'quiet' lashon hara is more pernicious than loud lashon hara. Quiet lashon hara is characterized by the perpetrator of this grave sin behaving in a two-faced manner towards his victim; in front of him he is very friendly, but behind his back he slanders him mercilessly and instructs the listeners not to reveal his true feelings to his unfortunate fellow. Since the victim is totally unaware that he is being vilified, he makes no efforts to protect himself from these attacks and they may continue unabated. In contrast, the victim of 'loud' lashon hara is far more likely to find out about the lashon hara spoken about him, consequently he will be able to protect himself.
With this understanding we can now explain why it is necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for lashon hara. Each form of lashon hara is more detrimental in some way than the other. Consequently, whilst the meil has the capacity to atone for the damaging aspect of 'loud' lashon hara it cannot atone for the harm caused by quiet lashon hara. Similarly, the ketores can atone for the pernicious features of 'quiet' lashon hara but it cannot do so for the areas in which 'loud' lashon hara is more damaging.
What is particularly striking about this explanation is that in some ways speaking lashon hara in a hidden fashion is worse than doing so in a blatant manner. The Chofetz Chaim zt"l discusses how speaking lashon hara of the 'quiet' kind can also involve a transgression of the Mitzvo, "do not hate your brother in your heart (loh sisna es achicha bilvavecha) ." The simple understanding of this Mitzvo is that one only transgresses it when he keeps his hatred in his heart and does not reveal it to anyone, including the subject of his hatred. However, if he expresses his hatred even in a negative way, he does not transgress 'loh sisna' because he did not keep the hatred in his heart .
The Chofetz Chaim argues that this is not necessarily the case; a person may hate his fellow and tells others of his hatred, but act towards him in a friendly manner. This, the Chofetz Chaim writes, is also a transgression of keeping hatred in one's heart. He explains that the root of the sin of keeping hatred in one's heart is that the subject of the hatred is unable to protect himself from the person who despises him. Consequently, if the 'hater' hides his true feelings to his fellow he is guilty of loh sisna even if he tells others about his hatred. We learn from the Chofetz Chaim the above concept that 'quiet' lashon hara has a particularly insidious aspect to it, in that its victim is totally unable to protect himself from the silent bombardments that he is subjected to.
There may be occasions in a person's life where he develops a dislike for someone. It is self-evident that this loathing does not justify speaking lashon hara. We learn further from the Gemara in Arachin that acting towards him in a two-faced manner makes the lashon hara even more destructive. Chazal tell us that Yosef's brothers were wrong in hating him, but to their credit they did not act in a hypocritical manner towards him. The lesson we derive from the brothers' behavior towards Yosef is that whilst it is wrong to hate someone, it is far worse to hide that hatred of him and speak badly about him behind his back. This hanhago only succeeds in causing enmity and machlokes. The ideal course of action is to try to resolve the situation by speaking to the subject of his hatred in a calm and reasonable manner and strive to resolve the issue in a mature fashion. By acting in an honest and candid manner, one can greatly improve his relationships with those around him.
One of the Vestements of the Kohen Gadol was the Meil, a robe that was adorned with bells and rang whenever the Kohen Gadol walked. The Gemara in Arachin discusses how all of the Kohen Gadol's Vestements atoned for a particular aveiro; the meil atoned for the sin of lashon hara. The Gemara explains that the meil, which made a loud kol (sound) should atone for lashon hara which makes a loud kol. However, the Gemara brings a seemingly contradictory braissa that says that the ketores (incense) that was used in the Mishkan atones for lashon hara. It answers that there are two different types of lashon hara; the ketores atones for a more 'quiet' form lashon hara, when the speaker hides his true feelings from the subject of his criticism and therefore the 'victim' of the lashon hara has no awareness that someone is criticizing him. In contrast, the lashon hara that is atoned for by the meil is characterized by the speaker making no secret of his true feelings about the victim to the extent that the victim is very likely to be aware of what is being said about him .
However, this explanation of the Gemara seems to pose a new difficulty; why is it necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for the single sin of lashon hara; why can't either the meil or the ketores atone for both 'loud' and 'quiet' lashon hara? Moreover, it would seem that loud lashon hara is significantly more damaging than 'quiet' lashon hara. Therefore, if the meil has the power to atone for the more severe form of lashon hara, then it should surely be able to atone for the seemingly less damaging 'quiet' lashon hara?
In order to answer this question it is necessary to understand more specifically the negative aspects of these two forms of lashon hara: Loud lashon hara is very damaging in that the victim is aware of the evil speech that is directed towards him and this naturally causes him great pain. In this aspect, loud lashon hara is considered more destructive than its quieter counterpart. However, there is a certain way in which 'quiet' lashon hara is more pernicious than loud lashon hara. Quiet lashon hara is characterized by the perpetrator of this grave sin behaving in a two-faced manner towards his victim; in front of him he is very friendly, but behind his back he slanders him mercilessly and instructs the listeners not to reveal his true feelings to his unfortunate fellow. Since the victim is totally unaware that he is being vilified, he makes no efforts to protect himself from these attacks and they may continue unabated. In contrast, the victim of 'loud' lashon hara is far more likely to find out about the lashon hara spoken about him, consequently he will be able to protect himself.
With this understanding we can now explain why it is necessary for there to be two separate functions of the Mishkan to atone for lashon hara. Each form of lashon hara is more detrimental in some way than the other. Consequently, whilst the meil has the capacity to atone for the damaging aspect of 'loud' lashon hara it cannot atone for the harm caused by quiet lashon hara. Similarly, the ketores can atone for the pernicious features of 'quiet' lashon hara but it cannot do so for the areas in which 'loud' lashon hara is more damaging.
What is particularly striking about this explanation is that in some ways speaking lashon hara in a hidden fashion is worse than doing so in a blatant manner. The Chofetz Chaim zt"l discusses how speaking lashon hara of the 'quiet' kind can also involve a transgression of the Mitzvo, "do not hate your brother in your heart (loh sisna es achicha bilvavecha) ." The simple understanding of this Mitzvo is that one only transgresses it when he keeps his hatred in his heart and does not reveal it to anyone, including the subject of his hatred. However, if he expresses his hatred even in a negative way, he does not transgress 'loh sisna' because he did not keep the hatred in his heart .
The Chofetz Chaim argues that this is not necessarily the case; a person may hate his fellow and tells others of his hatred, but act towards him in a friendly manner. This, the Chofetz Chaim writes, is also a transgression of keeping hatred in one's heart. He explains that the root of the sin of keeping hatred in one's heart is that the subject of the hatred is unable to protect himself from the person who despises him. Consequently, if the 'hater' hides his true feelings to his fellow he is guilty of loh sisna even if he tells others about his hatred. We learn from the Chofetz Chaim the above concept that 'quiet' lashon hara has a particularly insidious aspect to it, in that its victim is totally unable to protect himself from the silent bombardments that he is subjected to.
There may be occasions in a person's life where he develops a dislike for someone. It is self-evident that this loathing does not justify speaking lashon hara. We learn further from the Gemara in Arachin that acting towards him in a two-faced manner makes the lashon hara even more destructive. Chazal tell us that Yosef's brothers were wrong in hating him, but to their credit they did not act in a hypocritical manner towards him. The lesson we derive from the brothers' behavior towards Yosef is that whilst it is wrong to hate someone, it is far worse to hide that hatred of him and speak badly about him behind his back. This hanhago only succeeds in causing enmity and machlokes. The ideal course of action is to try to resolve the situation by speaking to the subject of his hatred in a calm and reasonable manner and strive to resolve the issue in a mature fashion. By acting in an honest and candid manner, one can greatly improve his relationships with those around him.
THE ROOT OF LASHON HARA -TETZAVEH
Chazal tell us that the various items of clothing of the Kohen Gadol served as atonements for the sins of Klal Yisroel. The meil atoned for lashon hara. One of the striking features of the meil was that it was fully techeiles, the color that resembles the Kisay HaKavod. What is the connection between the techeiles of the meil with atonement for lashon hara? The Chofetz Chaim zt”l explains by quoting a Tana d’bey Eliyahu that says that lashon hara rises up to the Kisay HaKavod. This means that a person who speaks lashon hara will have to face judgement in front of the Kisay HaKavod. The techeiles on the meil of the Kohen Gadol would serve as a reminder that our words have great spiritual power .
Thanks to the drive against lashon hara there is far more awareness as to the halachos and hashkafo of shemiras halashon. Nonetheless, lashon hara remains as being one of the most difficult aveiros to avoid - there are a number of reasons for this, including the fact that we speak so much and that there is strong social pressure that makes it very hard to avoid negative speech.
However, perhaps there is a deeper cause to lashon hara that lies at the root of much of the lashon hara spoken. Halacho acknowledges that we derive pleasure from speaking negatively about others - we see this in the laws of constructive speech: There are times when it is permissible and even required to speak lashon hara in order to prevent damage, however even this is forbidden if the speaker is pleased in his heart to cast the perpetrator in a bad light. This is difficult to understand - there are many aveiros for which there is an obvious taiva, such as arayos, however there is no obvious physical pleasure derived by speaking lashon hara. Why is there such a drive to speak negatively about other people?
It seems that the root cause of the pleasure of speaking lashon hara is that it provides an artificial boost to our self-worth: If we feel a lack of self-worth there are two ways in which we can boost it - one is to get involved in constructive activities and improve our character. In this way we feel more fulfilled and positive about ourselves. However, there is another, easier option; We often tend to value ourselves in relation to others, consequently our self-image is often dependent upon how we compare to those around us. By criticizing them we knock them down, thereby we now see ourselves in a more favorable light in comparison. For example, if we feel lacking in a mida such as intelligence, by criticizing someone else in that exact same area can help us feel better about our own level of intelligence.
This would seem to the explanation of Chazal’s statement that a person only criticizes others about a flaw that they themselves possess. Chazal understood the psychological needs of people to feel good about themselves and that a prime way of trying to do so is by knocking down others in their very own areas of weakness.
Of course the rise in self-worth derived from speaking lashon hara is artificial and very short-lived. After a short while the speaker’s true sense of inadequacy returns and he feels the need to criticize more in order to boost himself. Any person who has tried to refrain from lashon hara can testify that on the occasions when they held themselves they did not feel any lacking - on the contrary they felt better about themselves for doing the right thing.
There are two important lessons that can be dreived from this understanding of lashon hara. Firstly we must be highly vigilant of our intentions when we speak negatively for a constructive purpose. This is especially true in the delicate area of criticizing other groups or ideologies within Judaism. Indeed the Manchester Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Segal zt”l said that only great tzaddikim can speak critically of other groups. One reason for this may be that tzaddikim are secure in themselves and have no psychological need to criticize people. However, everyone else is prone to feelings of lack of self-worth and we may express righteous condemnation of those that we disapprove of for reasons that are not leshem shamayim. This constitutes lashon hara midoraysa and it is surely wise to heed the words of Rav Segal and to never risk transgressing such a serious aveiro.
The second lesson is that if we see in ourselves the desire to disparage others then we must do a cheshbon hanefesh to discover its source. Very often, it may arise because of a lack of self-worth. But instead of putting down others, we can feel better about ourselves by improving our midos and striving to be active and productive members of society. May we all be zocheh to purify our speech and learn the lesson of the meil.
Thanks to the drive against lashon hara there is far more awareness as to the halachos and hashkafo of shemiras halashon. Nonetheless, lashon hara remains as being one of the most difficult aveiros to avoid - there are a number of reasons for this, including the fact that we speak so much and that there is strong social pressure that makes it very hard to avoid negative speech.
However, perhaps there is a deeper cause to lashon hara that lies at the root of much of the lashon hara spoken. Halacho acknowledges that we derive pleasure from speaking negatively about others - we see this in the laws of constructive speech: There are times when it is permissible and even required to speak lashon hara in order to prevent damage, however even this is forbidden if the speaker is pleased in his heart to cast the perpetrator in a bad light. This is difficult to understand - there are many aveiros for which there is an obvious taiva, such as arayos, however there is no obvious physical pleasure derived by speaking lashon hara. Why is there such a drive to speak negatively about other people?
It seems that the root cause of the pleasure of speaking lashon hara is that it provides an artificial boost to our self-worth: If we feel a lack of self-worth there are two ways in which we can boost it - one is to get involved in constructive activities and improve our character. In this way we feel more fulfilled and positive about ourselves. However, there is another, easier option; We often tend to value ourselves in relation to others, consequently our self-image is often dependent upon how we compare to those around us. By criticizing them we knock them down, thereby we now see ourselves in a more favorable light in comparison. For example, if we feel lacking in a mida such as intelligence, by criticizing someone else in that exact same area can help us feel better about our own level of intelligence.
This would seem to the explanation of Chazal’s statement that a person only criticizes others about a flaw that they themselves possess. Chazal understood the psychological needs of people to feel good about themselves and that a prime way of trying to do so is by knocking down others in their very own areas of weakness.
Of course the rise in self-worth derived from speaking lashon hara is artificial and very short-lived. After a short while the speaker’s true sense of inadequacy returns and he feels the need to criticize more in order to boost himself. Any person who has tried to refrain from lashon hara can testify that on the occasions when they held themselves they did not feel any lacking - on the contrary they felt better about themselves for doing the right thing.
There are two important lessons that can be dreived from this understanding of lashon hara. Firstly we must be highly vigilant of our intentions when we speak negatively for a constructive purpose. This is especially true in the delicate area of criticizing other groups or ideologies within Judaism. Indeed the Manchester Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Segal zt”l said that only great tzaddikim can speak critically of other groups. One reason for this may be that tzaddikim are secure in themselves and have no psychological need to criticize people. However, everyone else is prone to feelings of lack of self-worth and we may express righteous condemnation of those that we disapprove of for reasons that are not leshem shamayim. This constitutes lashon hara midoraysa and it is surely wise to heed the words of Rav Segal and to never risk transgressing such a serious aveiro.
The second lesson is that if we see in ourselves the desire to disparage others then we must do a cheshbon hanefesh to discover its source. Very often, it may arise because of a lack of self-worth. But instead of putting down others, we can feel better about ourselves by improving our midos and striving to be active and productive members of society. May we all be zocheh to purify our speech and learn the lesson of the meil.
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