Perashat Shelach- Keep Your Words Golden
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By Rabbi Avraham Gindi
Perashat Shelach- Keep Your Words Golden
It was the first year in the desert, and the Jewish Nation requested to see the land of Israel. They wanted to discover the details of the country they would forever onward call home; a land which they were on course to inhabit in just a short while. Heeding to their pleas, Moshe sent a delegation of twelve spies to search out the area and the inhabitants who dwell within.
But when the spies returned, they brought with them horrific tales about the Canaanite giants, a people much stronger than we. They wailed before the entire nation, as they lamented over the enormous challenge overtaking them would be. Furthermore, it is a land struck by a plague; those who lived in its borders were dying left and right. Filled with grief upon hearing the news, the nation immediately broke out in a torrent of heart wrenching sobs. Throughout the entire night they continued to weep, as if a great tragedy had struck the nation.
Upon hearing the cries of his children and their blatant lack of faith in their Father in Heaven, Hashem got so angry that he told Moshe that he will obliterate the entire nation; he alone would survive to continue to the Jewish Legacy. Only after hearing Moshe’s pleas does he have mercy on his children, prolonging their sentence from an instant eradication to perishing over a forty year period. In this way, all those who cried would die nonetheless, but only after being given the opportunity to multiply and up bring the generation who would merit entering the land.
In Perashat Balack, the Moabite women coerce the Jewish men into sinning through both idolatry and adultery, two of the gravest sins in the Torah. There are three sins that a Jew is obligated to sacrifice his life rather than commit, and both adultery and idolatry are in that category.
And yet, despite the great magnitude of their transgressions, we don’t see Hashem getting so angry. 24,000 men die in a plague, after which the nation collects themselves and moves on. That is a number far smaller than the 600,000 who would perish for crying about the Land of Israel. Why was the punishment so much harsher for just complaining about a land, but when they committed sins far worse, they were struck so lightly in comparison?
When I was younger I used to have a tie which I truly enjoyed wearing. It just gave me that good feeling every time I put it on. As I pulled it out of my drawer on a Friday afternoon, I cherished the way it perfectly complemented my suit. Then one day, I bumped into a friend who felt obligated to comment on my choice of fashion. “Why are you wearing that tie?” He snidely remarked, “It looks quite ridiculous on you.” “Well I think it looks nice.” I softly protested. “But it doesn’t.” He shot back harshly.
And that was that. Since then, I just can’t enjoy wearing that tie. I tried, trust me I did; but no matter how many times I tell myself it looks nice, there will always be that thought in the back of my head telling me it isn’t. Even if a hundred people come by telling me what a wonderful tie I have, I will never get back that good feeling that I had when I had first put it on.
Another time, a friend told me of a guy I know whom he had worked for an entire summer. At the end of the season, instead of paying him for his hard work, the man called to inform him that he hadn’t made a large profit on the project they were working on, and therefore wouldn’t pay him a red cent. Being a worker, his bosses profit margins should be of no interest to him, he should get his due salary regardless. But as he was only a teenager at the time, he had meekly accepted. “But he stole from me!” my friend angrily informed me. “The guy just stole my entire pay!”
And ever since, I can’t look the man in the eye. If I see him walking down one side of the street, I will quickly find myself walking down the other. His son is studying at a Yeshiva close to mine, and an uncomfortable feeling creeps into my spine every time I see him; and I don’t expect that to change. A thousand people can come by telling me tales of this man’s honesty and virtue, it won’t alter my opinion of him. He stole from my friend; he is a dishonest man, and from the day I heard that story I will never forget it.
The Jewish Nation was on its way to the Land of Israel; a land which they were destined to inhabit and build into a nation. To be successful in a new venture one has to be excited about the circumstances. Once someone starts complaining though, everything around them turns black, they instantly feel exasperated; and we all know how hard it is to build when one is weak and blind.
A little while ago, I prayed shacharit at the Kotel. Walking to the end of the ramp at the men’s section, I noticed five beggar women waiting to collect charity. Sticking my hand in my pocket led to the unpleasant realization that just three shekel lied within; leaving me in quite a quandary. Would it be better to at least give three of them or not give at all?
Against my better judgement (or so it seemed), I decided to give to the first three women who came my way; for the fourth lady made it her duty to inform me how disgusted she was at my selfishness. “You only have for Ashkenazim!” she shrieked on top of her lungs. “Suddenly for Sefaradim you don’t have! You only have for Ashkenazim!”
I held my tongue back from informing her that I was in fact a pure blooded Sefaradi, (you wouldn’t believe it if you saw it) and watched in bewilderment as she continue to make a scene. A polite fellow watching the commotion handed me two shekel to appease the other women. But suddenly, at the thought of this prospect, she quickly changed her tune. “I don’t want your money!” she screams at me. “You give with a bad heart! I only want from somebody who gives with a good heart!” So rather than forcing the issue, I gave the Ashkenaz lady another shekel and quickly walked away.
I am always filled with pity wondering how these women, who started off much like anybody else, end up as beggars. But with this woman in particular it was quite clear. She possessed the mentality of a victim; all those around her were always out to get her. If a friend said something wrong, it was because she was out to hurt her; so she was careful to stay out of all relationships. In business she was sure they were always trying to take advantage of her, so she could never hold down a normal job.
She could have easily said that I didn’t have that much to give; maybe I really do only have three shekel in my pocket. But she was a victim, and when you’re a victim all you can see is black. Everything around you seems wrong.
The Jewish People were living in the midst of great miracles. Everywhere they turned they saw G-d’s hand tending to their every need. Yet they started crying, and as those tears left them so did their senses. They could no longer see all the kindnesses Hashem had constantly bestowed on them; all they could see was the ‘horrible land’ they were being thrown into.
But that was not the state of mind the Jewish Nation needed to enter the Land of Israel with. They needed to feel good about what they were going into, positive about the gifts that they were receiving. But once they cried the land became like my tie, still whole but no longer cherished. And though Yehoushua and Caleb tried to repair the damage, it was irreversible. It wasn’t that it was so much of a punishment; there was simply no other way. They had already cried, they had already put black on their eyes, so the only solution was to wipe out the entire nation of complainers, and wait forty years for the weeping of that mourning to pass.
We may think that complaining about a friend, a yeshiva, or any situation, are words that will just be spoken and forgotten. We may not realize though, the impact that our speech could have; for an entire generation and decades of years may have to pass before those words are forgotten. So keep it in and let those words slip into silence. You never know how much you may gain by keeping them golden.