The Weekly Sedra – Parashas Shemos – In The Eyes Of The Beholder

It happened in those days that Moshe grew up and went out to his brethren and he observed their burdens . . . – Exodus 2:11

“And he observed their burdens:” He focused his eyes and heart so as to feel their suffering and grieve for them – Rashi Exodus 2:11

Among the volunteers that came, after World War II, to visit and aid the thousands of survivors who found themselves in displaced-persons (DP) camps throughout Germany and Poland, was Rabbi Eliezer Silver.

One day, as they were distributing Siddurim (prayer books), the Rabbi came across a man who emphatically refused to accept anything of a religious nature. “After seeing with my own eyes the way religious Jews behaved in the concentration camp,” the man declared disdainfully, “I no longer wish to have any involvement with religion!”

Bewildered at the man’s disturbing accusation against fellow Jews – ravished survivors of the most dreadful atrocities – Rabbi Eliezer asked him to please explain what exactly had turned him away from Jewish practice.

“I saw a Jew who had a Siddur, perhaps the only one in the camp, yet he would only allow it to be used by those inmates who were willing to pay with their daily bread ration. Imagine,” the man sneered, “A Jew selling the right to Daven for bread – the very crumbs on which the people were meant to survive! Gevald! It is so despicable; the thought of it still makes my blood boil!”

“How many customers did this man get?” inquired the Rabbi. “Too many,” snapped the man, “far too many!”

Rabbi Silver put his hand on the gentleman and gently asked, “Why sir, do you focus on the Jew who sold the right to pray? Why don’t you consider the many devoted Jews who were willing to forego their rations and starve, just so that they can pray? Isn’t that the true story – the real lesson to be taken from the dramatic event to which you were witness?”

The commentaries note that the pronouncement: “Moshe grew up,” in the above quoted verse, is redundant. After all, it is stated just one verse prior: “The boy grew up and she brought him to the daughter of Pharaoh. . .” The reiteration is explained to contain an added message. The first statement is referring to physical development, while the second is referring to greatness in stature. Rashi interprets this to imply that Moshe was appointed as chamberlain over Pharaoh’s palace. Other commentaries interpret this greatness to relate to character and disposition.

In particular the commentaries describe Moshe’s maturity with regards to his sensitivity towards the plight of his “brethren.” Moshe certainly did not have to identify with the misery of the enslaved Hebrews. After all, he was living in Pharaoh’s palace as a royal heir. He had everything to lose and nothing to gain.

If his conscience was getting the better of him, he could have found many explanations and rationalizations for the predicament of the Hebrew slaves and why they deserved their punishment. He would not even have had to look all that far. It is no secret that the Jewish people sunk to the 49th level of impurity – indulging in many of the practices of their Egyptian masters, including idol worship.

According to Midrashic legend, if the Jewish people had been held up in Egypt even a moment longer, they would have reached to the point of no return. Moshe could well have told himself: “G-d knows precisely what he is doing; these people are getting what they deserve. Why get involved and risk everything you have.”

He could have even indulged in a stint of self-righteous and self-serving musar (rebuke), berating the downtrodden and demoralized victims for the creation of their own nightmare, as our society and its leaders are often apt to do.

Yet Moshe, the consummate leader, displayed true greatness in identifying their plight for what it was. In Rashi’s words: “He focused his eyes and heart so as to feel their suffering and grieve for them.” He saw their sins as a result of their unfortunate predicament, as opposed to their predicament the result of their sins.

The following story reiterates the lesson that aught to be derived from Moshe’s conduct – the attribute of recognizing the pain of others and not their faults – to observe others with eyes of compassion, not with eyes of harshness and judgment.

During the month of Elul, a renowned Maggid – a traveling preacher – came to the town of Reb Shmuel Munkes, well known Chassid (disciple) of the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Schnuer Zalman of Liadi. The townspeople saw his letter of introduction, referring to him as a great Tzaddik who gives up his own comforts to travel from town to town only to arouse and inspire Jews. Being G-d-fearing people, they immediately invited him to speak and inspire them to serve the Almighty better.

In the course of his sermon, the Maggid, over and over berated his audience and accused them of committing terrible sins. His entire speech was filled with accusations and descriptions of the terrible punishments awaiting them because their evil behavior had aroused Hashem’s anger. Only if they would wholeheartedly repent would they possibly have a chance to be spared. The townspeople were utterly broken by the Maggid’s harsh words, they cried bitterly, fearing the awesome punishment.

Upon conclusion, the Maggid, satisfied with himself, retired to the room that the community had arranged for him.

A short while later, Reb Shmuel entered the Maggid’s room. He carried with him a long knife and a stone with which to sharpen it. Reb Shmuel closed the door behind him and then bolted it shut. Without saying a word, Reb Shmuel began to sharpen his knife.

A few tense and long moments passed. Finally the Maggid broke the silence and asked in astonishment, “Sir, could you please tell me what this is all about?”

Without glancing up from the knife he was sharpening, Reb Shmuel, in mock sincerity, answered, “As the honorable, great Maggid knows, we are very simple people in this town. Perhaps, it is because of our careless sins that we have never merited to have a great, righteous, G-d fearing scholar in our midst.” Not knowing what to make of this answer, the Maggid replied, “Yes, that is true. Still, what does that have to do with you sharpening the knife?’

Reb Shmuel retorted, ”We were taught by our parents that before Rosh Hashanah one is to pray at the grave sites of the righteous.“ Still unsure of what Reb Shmuel’s point was, the Maggid continued, ”That is correct. But why are you sharpening that knife?

“Oh, that is very simple,” explained Reb Shmuel. “The nearest grave site of a righteous person is very far from our town. For some of us it is extremely cumbersome to make such a long journey.”

By now the Maggid was beginning to feel uneasy. He ventured, “But you still have not explained why you are sharpening your knife in this room,” as the beads of sweat starting dripping down his temples. Reb Shmuel answered, “Quite simply, I am sharpening my knife here because the townspeople want a very righteous person buried in this town.”

Now, the Maggid had not even a shadow of a doubt as to what Reb Shmuel’s intentions were. The Maggid stammered, “But I am not completely righteous. I have also done some small sins, such as…”

Reb Shmuel dismissed the Maggid’s confession, saying, “Honored Maggid, you are still a very righteous and learned person. As for the sins that you mentioned, I did not even know that they are transgressions.”

The Maggid continued in a stutter, “Come to think of it, I did some transgressions that were much more serious, such as…” Concerning this too, Reb Shmuel shrugged, arguing, “But to us you are still a Tzaddik; you are more than adequate, besides, you are probably just being very humble.”

This strange dialogue continued for some time with the Maggid admitting to more and more severe transgressions and Reb Shmuel telling him, “But you are still acceptable to us, as you are far better than us.”

Finally, the Maggid confessed to some rather extremely serious transgressions and that he was not at all the great Tzaddik that his letter of introduction and credentials portrayed him to be. In essence, he was saying, “I am an impostor.”

Now Reb Shmuel, no longer played the simpleton. After putting away the knife, he began chastising the Maggid for causing the Jews of the town so much pain and sorrow. After making sure the Maggid fully understood how one is to talk to and treat another Jew, Reb Shmuel unbolted the door and let the Maggid go on his way, much wiser than he had ever been before.