Doctors and Pilots

Parshas Shoftim

Posted on September 3, 2024 (5784) By Rabbi Naftali Reich | Series: Legacy | Level: Beginner

Seeing is believing. Most of us are natural skeptics, and it is difficult to convince us of something we have not seen with our own eyes. And even then, we are apt to have lingering doubts.

 

Indeed, we take pride in our skepticism, because we know it protects us from all sorts of fraud and deception. We are nobody’s fools.

 

In this week’s portion, however, the Torah goes directly against this tendency. The Torah exhorts us not to deviate one whit from the words of our Sages, neither to the right nor to the left. What does this mean? The Talmud explains that even if they tell us that our right hand is our left and our left is our right we are to follow them with implicit faith. Of course, our Sages would obviously never tell us something that is patently ridiculous. Rather, the left and rights hands are a metaphor for something that is seemingly erroneous according to our perceptions.

 

Nonetheless, we are required to follow their lead rather than our own judgment. The Torah demands that we have faith.

 

How do we understand this requirement to have faith? Why does the Torah demand of us to go against our natural instincts? Why should we follow blindly rather than take a stand as independent thinkers and demand explanations?

 

If we pause to consider, however, we will discover that faith forms an integral part of our everyday lives. In fact, without faith we would be practically immobilized. When we get into our cars, we do not worry that our brakes may be defective and will suddenly fail when we are traveling at high speeds. Why? Because we have faith in the manufacturers. When we get on a plane we do not worry that the pilot is incompetent or drunk. Why? Because we have faith in the pilot. When we go to doctors, we generally accept what they tell us. Why? Because we have faith in our doctors.

 

Without faith, we would be afraid to switch on the lights or put food into our mouths or believe a word anyone tells us. Clearly, Hashem created us with the innate ability to have faith. Why then, if we so easily have faith in our doctors and pilots, do we find it so difficult to have faith in Hashem even when we believe in His existence? Why do we find it so hard to accept all His deeds and commands without question?

 

The answer lies in our egotism. Doctors and pilots are there to serve us. Accepting them on good faith may result in physical restrictions, but it does not require us to surrender our personal independence in any way. We are still in control of our destinies. They advise. We make the decisions. Such faith comes easily.

Faith in Hashem is an altogether different matter. If we forfeit the right to question His deeds and commands, we acknowledge that we are subservient to Him. We surrender our independence, and that is a very difficult thing to do. But still, we must. For if we believe in Hashem yet refuse to give Him our faith and trust, we would be living a lie.

 

Therefore, the Torah exhorts us again and again to have faith in Hashem, to overcome the stiff, illogical resistance of egotism and submit to His higher intelligence. Certainly, He is at least as deserving of our good faith as our doctors and pilots.

 

After attending the yeshivah of a great sage for a number of years, a young student suddenly declared himself an atheist and announced that he was leaving. Naturally, this came as great shock to the other students and the faculty, and they begged him to consult the sage before he left.

 

The sage nodded gravely as he listened to the young man.

 

“I agree that if you are an atheist this is not the place for you,” he said. “But tell me, what made you become an atheist?”

 

“It is because I have lost my faith,” the young man replied.

 

“Indeed? And why did you lose your faith?”

 

“Because I have questions.”

 

The sage smiled sadly. “No, my young friend, you do not have questions. You have answers.

 

You have decided that you want to live a certain lifestyle, and in order to do so you have to be an atheist. Now that you’ve come up with this answer, you have found questions to support your foregone conclusion.”

 

In our own lives, we experience the egotistical resistance to faith in our children, who find it hard to admit that their parents may be right but would willingly accept the same statements from others. The difference is simple. When we acknowledge the wisdom of parents, we pay a high price in personal independence. Similarly, we pay a high price when we acknowledge the awesome might and wisdom of the Master of the Universe. But if we overcome our stubborn egotism and acknowledge the obvious truth, we will find that the rewards of faith are well worth the price we pay for them.

 

Royal Humility

Parshas Shoftim

Posted on August 31, 2022 (5782) By Rabbi Mordechai Kamenetzky | Series: Drasha| Level: Beginner

This week, the Torah teaches us about royalty and its symbiotic relationship with humility. The concept of the Jewish king is discussed in this week’s portion, He is given a tremendous amount of power, but there are caveats as well. He is told not to amass a large cavalry, nor shall he have too many wives lest they sway his heart. Third, he is warned against amassing an excess fortune of gold and silver. But in an interesting addendum, Hashem puts a roadblock to haughtiness in front of the king in a surprisingly different manner. “It shall be that when he sits on the throne of his kingdom, he shall write for himself two copies of this Torah in a book, from before the Kohanim, the Levites. It shall be with him, and he shall read from it all the days of his life, so that he will learn to fear Hashem, his G-d, to observe all the words of this Torah and these decrees, to perform them so that his heart does not become haughty over his brethren and not turn from the commandment right or left, so that he will prolong years over his kingdom, he and his sons amid Israel.” (Deuteronomy 15:15-17).

 

It seems that this Book of discipline and its message of restraint need be with the king everyday of his life.

 

Need that be the case? Why not have a court castigator, a prophet or clergy who would sermonize monthly or even weekly. Does the King truly need to constantly carry and read a Book of ethics to forever keep him in check? Rav Yosef Poesner, was the son-in-law of the Nodeh B’Yehuda, the esteemed Rav of Prague. He was a brilliant scholar and an amazingly righteous individual.

 

During his entire life, he seemed to be plagued by a nagging wife who would belittle him at every opportunity. After a brilliant lecture, she would come into the room, and belittle him.

 

During meetings at which his opinion was prominently sought, she would serve the company food, but at the same time she made sure to deride him. During all these outbursts, he never said a word. He never defended himself. In fact, he hung his head low, as if to agree with her words of derision.

 

Then, suddenly, he passed away. Hundreds came to the funeral. All of the gathered contrasted his greatness to the difficult life he had led, by being married to a shrew of a wife who was about to bury him.

 

After the eulogies, his wife suddenly appeared before the coffin, crying uncontrollably.

She begged his permission to speak and then burst into tears.

 

“All these years,” she cried, “I fulfilled the adage that a loyal wife fulfills the wishes of her husband. And due to my loyalty and respect to you and your greatness, I did whatever you had asked me to. But now that you are in the world of the truth, I can finally say the truth.” She began to declare her respect for his greatness and humility, his piety and patience, his kindness and compassion.

 

The people near the coffin were shocked to see this woman transformed into a loving, grieving widow. And then the true shock came. She continued her soliloquy.

 

“Despite, how difficult it was for me, I kept the promise and commitment you had asked me to make.

 

Any time you were treated honorably, or were asked to fulfill a prestigious role, you told me to come in and belittle you as strongly as possible. You were afraid that the honor they afforded you would make you haughty. I only complied because that was your will!”

 

“But now I can finally say the truth!” But that was only in front of people!

 

“You know how much I appreciated and cherished you!” She continued to cry over the great tzadik and lifelong companion she lost. The stunned grievers were shocked at the tremendous devotion of the Rebbitzin, who deemed herself a harrying nag all for the sake of her husband’s wishes.

 

Humility is not easy to attain. And for a man thrust in the limelight of power, flashbulbs popping, the media pressing, and servants waiting, it is an even more arduous task. The only antidote is constant mussar, day in day out. The Torah “shall be with him, and he shall read from it all the days of his life.” Every day. All mussar all the time. No weekly speeches nor sporadic sermons. If the Torah must be cherished like a wife, it also must be asked to nag us into reality. And then, it will serve its men not only delicious desserts, but also humble pie.

 

Good Shabbos!