Influence and Inference
Summary by Channie Koplowitz Stein
Summary l’ilui nishmat Leeor Devorah a”h bas Shlomo Perl n”y niftirah Sivan 20, 5774
The narrative of Bnei Yisroel’s journey toward Eretz Yisroel continues in Parshat Chukas. Two important segments of this journey are juxtaposed here, indicating a more important connection than chronological sequence. First Moshe sends emissaries from Kadesh where the people are currently encamped to the king of Edom, addressing him as brother and requesting permission to please pass through his land. While Edom refuses permission, ready to wage war with Israel, Israel turns away and goes around the land of Edom.
From Kadesh, Bnei Yisroel proceeds to Har Hohor, Mount Hor. Here Hashem gives Moshe the final instructions to prepare Aharon for his death, for he, along with Moshe, will not enter the land because of the sin of the waters of strife. Aharon will die here and be buried at the border of Edom.
Perhaps the simplest explanation for this juxtaposition, as offered by Rabbi Sorotskin inOznaim Latorah, is that had Moshe and Aharon not failed to sanctify God’s name at the waters of strife, had Moshe spoken to the rock instead of hitting it, all these lands would have initially been part of Eretz Yisroel. Now, however, we would have to wait until the days of Moshiach when these lands, including Aharon’s burial place, will all be part of Eretz Yisroel.
Nevertheless, perhaps Aharon could have lived several months longer until entry to the Land was imminent had Bnei Yisroel not lost the merit of his presence among them. Rabbi Mordechai Druck in Dorash Mordechai draws on the teachings of Rabbi Bunim of Pesischa in explaining that Hashem’s justice is part of a perfectly balanced system. The central character faces a challenge, and everyone within his circle suffers a designated amount depending on his position relative to the central figure. When this balance is upset because an “unauthorized” person enters the circle and is touched by the suffering, the balance must nevertheless be maintained, and those in the original circle will suffer less. This is the reasoning behind going to a tzadik for a blessing in times of trouble, for the tzadik, hearing your travail, empathizes and feels your pain even though he is not part of your original circle, and so his prayers will recalibrate the balance and lessen your pain. However, when one sins, one merits pain in his own right, and the balance is maintained without diminishing the punishment of the other.
Such seems to be the case with the death of Aharon. While Aharon was destined to die before entering the Land, why should he die now and cause Bnei Yisroel additional anguish? Bnei Yisroel merely asked to pass through the land of Edom, not to mingle socially with the people or to settle in their land. Rashi alludes to a touch of sinfulness in Bnei Yisroel by saying that Bnei Yisroel wanted to connect themselves to the evil of Edom, and therefore Aharon had to die here. By wanting this connection, they sinned and merited the pain of losing Aharon. A comment of this nature requires clarification.
Rabbi Yaakov Kaminetzky in Emes LeYaakov asks a very relevant question: If the Torah itself tells us Edom is our brother and we should treat them nicely, what was the sin of Bnei Yisroel when they did precisely that? Rabbi Kaminetzky continues to answer his question. It is one thing to act through obligation and quite another to act with embracing the action itself. While Hashem wanted Bnei Yisroel to ask permission to cross the land of Edom, He did not instruct them to act fawningly, to identify themselves as the brothers of Edom and to say, ”Please,” with their request. This embracing attitude of love toward the wicked Edom was the sin, not the request itself and the subsequent detour.
Actually, continues Rabbi Kaminetzky, Hashem wanted Bnei Yisroel to make the request, knowing that Edom would refuse. When Bnei Yisroel would then turn away, the other nations would take that as a sign of weakness and feel emboldened to attack Bnei Yisroel. Then Hashem could easily make Bnei Yisroel the victors and give them the lands of Emori and Bashan. The request and detour were all part of Hashem’s master plan, and the pieces were falling into place.
The problem was that Bnei Yisroel were willing to connect with Edom even if only on a superficial level, as the Mishnah in Succoh states, “Woe to the evil man and woe to his neighbor,” for, as Rabbi Yerucham Halevy points out, some of that evil is bound to rub off.
Rabbi Reiss expands on this idea in Lehovin Ulehaskil. Pirkei Avot urges us to distance ourselves from sin. Rabbi Yonah explains that being exposed to sin begins the process of desensitizing ourselves to evil, and we are held accountable for our willingness to become desensitized. Further, continues Rabbi Reiss citing the Rambam, we are influenced by our surroundings. If I am willing to walk through their land, I’m ready to tolerate the evil within it. Once I’ve dropped my guard, how long before I become accustomed to this behavior and begin behaving in a similar fashion? If we walk through a tannery, our bodies will absorb the scent of the hides; if we are immersed in evil, our psyches will begin accepting evil as the norm. Our moods are influenced by the music we hear, our mode of dress by the latest styles featured in magazines, and our tolerance for moral depravity by accepted social norms of a politically correct society.
You may think you are in control and following your own lead, but Rabbi Yosef Hurwitz, the Saba of Slabodka (as quoted by Rabbi Zelig Pliskin in Consulting the Wise) presents us with a profound analogy. A dog on a leash generally runs ahead of its master. In its own mind, it is leading the way. Yet, as soon as the master changes direction, the dog runs ahead in the direction of its master. Similarly, the leader among friends is often simply leading them in the direction they wish to go and not in a direction of his own choosing. That’s why we warn our children to stay away from bad friends, even outside their homes. We don’t want them to be influenced by negative behavior that may eventually draw them beyond the doorsteps of these friends.
Rabbi Egbe in Chochmat Hamutzpan uses the Edomites as his springboard for a psychological interpretation of Israel’s failing. He wonders why Edom refused Israel passage through their land, even with Israel willing to pay for any water they would consume, and he reasons that Edom was afraid that some of the morality of Bnei Yisroel would rub off on them, a morality they eschewed. On the other hand, what did Bnei Yisroel see in Edom that they hoped would rub off on them if they passed through? Bnei Yisroel had been living a supernatural life for forty years, under the direct supervision and sustenance of Hakodosh Boruch Hu. In Edom they saw people living a natural life, a life where they drew forth bread from the earth rather than from the heavens. Bnei Yisroel yearned to live a life like the Edomites, not tied so closely to Hashem’s direct supervision and providence. Hashem judged Bnei Yisroel based on their desire to distance themselves from Him and from the holiness that His presence imparted.
It is from the words that Bnei Yisroel use in approaching Edom that Rabbi Moshe Sternbach senses the desire for closeness, the use of “brother” and “please”. When Bnei Yisroel approached Sichon, King of Emori and Og, King of Bashan, Bnei Yisroel no longer used this cordial terminology even as they requested peaceful passage through their lands, notes Rabbi Friedman inShaarei Derech, citing the Baal Haturim. How careful must we be in the words we use, for speech comes from the depths of our beings. As the Chofetz Chaim Heritage Foundation notes in Positive Word Power, with each word we speak, we exhale a bit of the breath God breathed into us to create our human life form, and the words we use impact both ourselves and our listeners.
Rabbi Friedman continues to discuss the power of speech. He cites a Gemarrah that tells of the Prophet Eliyahu who, when asked to point out someone deserving the world to come, pointed to two jesters in the marketplace. They merited this reward because they used their speaking ability to make people happy. Similarly, one can compare two families. In one, the son supplies all the physical needs for his father, but does so with a gruff voice and surly disposition. The other son cannot provide for his father without his father actually contributing to the finances. But this son speaks respectfully and softly, and is apologetic for requiring his father to continue working. The son with the loving words is the one who will merit the World to Come.
What we say and how we say it has profound power and permanent impact. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but they will heal; words that encourage me or harm me will stay with me and be recalled forever. In this month of Tamuz, let us try to rectify the sin of the spies who used their power of speech destructively. Let us be aware of our speech at all times, restrain ourselves from negative speech, and use the powerful gift of speech to strengthen and support the positive social bonds that tie our nation together. In this merit, may
Hashem please return our boys safely to their mothers’ arms.