Rashi Vayero Shvi’i

When we invest efforts in any given area of avodas Hashem, it carries its own unique challenges, as we struggle to navigate the clash between our desire to do the right thing and the mida that is holding us back. However, there is one issue, one pervasive problem, that we encounter every time we embark on a positive undertaking.

When Hashem contemplated the evils of the dor ha’mabul, the pasuk says va’yinachem Hashem, and Rashi cites one explanation that Hashem found consolation in His decision to create Man in this lower world. Had he been placed in the upper world, he would have stirred a rebellion even in those higher spheres.

There is an inherent difficulty in this interpretation. If Man would not be part of this world, he would not have a yetzer hara. Presumably, such a situation precludes the possibility of sin. Under such circumstances, why should we fear that he would mount a rebellion?

The Maharal explains that there is an element of evil inherent in the human condition, even when he is free of the influence of the yetzer hara. This is the instinct for merida, for rebellion. Man wants to do as he pleases, and he naturally resists all efforts to be controlled by others. Even without a yetzer hara, people would not accept authority, and they would start a rebellion.

Rav Wolbe ztz”l often commented that someone who never said krias shma, while feeling the need to suppress the impulse to just run away and leave it all behind, has never truly accepted the ol malchus shamayim. We must acknowledge these urges, to realize that we are indeed pulled strongly in the opposite direction, and yet resist this call, to resolve to stay, to work, to do what is right.

How do we go about accomplishing this? What can possibly counteract such a powerful, deep-seated force, this pull towards merida?

To answer this question, let us study a pasuk in this week’s parsha:

חָלִלָה לְּךָ מֵעֲשֹת כַּדָּבָר הַזֶּה לְהָמִית צַדִּיק עִם רָשָׁע וְהָיָה כַצַּדִּיק כָּרָשָׁע חָלִלָה לָּךְ הֲשֹׁפֵט כָּל הָאָרֶץ לֹא יַעֲשֶֹה מִשְׁפָּט

Here are Rashi’s comments on this pasuk:

חלילה לך. חולין הוא לך, יאמרו כך הוא אומנתו, שוטף הכל צדיקים ורשעים, כך עשית לדור המבול ולדור הפלגה:

חלילה לך. לעולם הבא

Avraham davened for the people of Sedom, asking that they be spared because of the presence of a few righteous individuals. Twice, he makes the point that it would be a chilul Hashem for the tzadikim to be wiped out together with the rest of the population.

Rashi explains that the chilul Hashem is not just that these few tzadikim will die. Avraham was concerned that people would perceive these events as part of a general pattern of retribution. Hashem already punished the world en masse, during the dor ha’mabul and the dor haflaga. If He would do the same to Sedom, people would think that He just punishes the world indiscriminately, as if He is primarily occupied with acts of vengeance.

Apparently, Rashi was bothered by the repetition of the words chalila li’cha. Therefore, he comments on the second phrase, chalila li’cha – l’olam ha’bah. It will also be a chilul Hashem in the next world. In other words, this behavior is so inexplicable, that even when we reach the world of Truth, where all will become clear, this will remain a mystery.

This is a stunning statement. A mystery in Olam Ha’bah? We are familiar with the story of the Ramban’s student, who was tasked with returning after his death with answers to some vexing questions. A few weeks after his petira, he appeared to his Rebbi in a dream, but he came empty handed. “I do not have answers,” he explained, “because where I am, there are no questions.”

And yet Avraham Avinu was able to state, with absolute certainty, that Hashem should not act this way, to the point that he was convinced that he would never see things differently, even in Olam Ha’bah?!

This is a difficult idea to wrap our heads around, to say the least. But it tells us something about the ability to develop a hakara, a strong recognition of some aspect of our avodas Hashem. Avraham understood the hashgacha well, but even more so, he recognized it, he developed a familiarity with it, and this allowed him to acquire such staunch convictions.

This takes a step past our understanding from last week. We spoke of a hakara that would allow us to retain our standing in our avodas Hashem even in unfamiliar circumstances. However, this could be interpreted as an entirely personal avoda. There is the obligation, the standard of Torah and mitzvos, and then there is the individual’s ability to measure up to these expectations.

However, we see here that it goes much deeper. In Olam Ha’bah, Avraham would not be the same person that he is in this world. Why should his hakara necessarily carry through to the next world? Clearly, the hakara is not just based on one’s personal connection to a mitzva. It is a meeting between one’s personal standing, the place of his inner development, and the eternal, objective Truth of Torah. Avraham gained a strong hakara of this truth, to the extent that it became something so absolute, so ubiquitous, that he was convinced that it would still hold true in Olam Ha’bah.

How does one go about developing this hakara? This is really the essence, the true purpose, of learning mussar. And how does one learn mussar? The Mesilas Yesharim teaches us that this requires chazara v’hasmada, constant review. This is not a question of knowledge, of reinforcing our memory, nor is it just a way to influence one’s thinking, a subtle form of brainwashing. It is a matter of hakara.

When I was younger, my father had a vast collection of LP records. He could have listened to a different one every day and literally gone for years without the need to repeat. Yet, to my surprise, I would always hear him listening to the same records, again and again.

I asked him to explain, and he replied with the following mashal. “Imagine I were to go out onto the street, where I would encounter all sorts of people, of all different nationalities. It is a very interesting experience. Then, I would notice a good friend. What happens? Suddenly, I become excited, and we get involved in an animated conversation. The familiarity is what truly speaks to me.”

In other words, ‘interesting’ is wonderful, but it does not hold our attention for long, and it does not carry much meaning. When we develop a hakara, a deep recognition, then we become involved. The chazara and hasmada, revisiting the person, the idea, the truth, has a powerful impact on us, it runs much deeper.

Thus, we need to review the ideas of avodas Hashem repeatedly, and we then develop a familiarity, we recognize the truth inherent in the words.  

This hakara is the key we have been seeking, the counterforce to the merida inside us. We do not easily submit to authority, and mere knowledge, simple awareness of the importance of the tasks at hand, do not make much of a difference. In fact, the opposite can be true. Our knowledge can bring our obligations into sharp focus, and this can trigger our resistance to bow to external pressure and perform according to another’s expectations.

Therefore, Chazal tell us that Nimrod was yodei’ah ribono u’mis’chavein limrod bo, he knew his Master and intentionally rebelled against him. His knowledge allowed him, or perhaps even led him, to stage a rebellion. However, Rav Wolbe explained, the crucial word here is yodei’ah. Were he to be makir ribono, to convert this knowledge into a hakara – not only to know his master, but to recognize him – he would not have rebelled.

Dovid Hamelech paints a beautiful and vivid depiction of this idea. In perek kuf-lamed-tes, he writes Hashem chakartani va’teida, describing in detail how Hashem knows him so well. Where does this lead him? Does this cause him to feel a deep connection, to sing Hashem’s praises? In pasuk zayin, he continues, ana eilech mei’ruchecha, where can I go to escape from You? I can soar to heaven, or descend to the greatest depths, yet there I find You. If I cross the ocean, I will still encounter You, and I cannot hide in the darkness.

Dovid was expressing the strength of his hakara. Acknowledging Hashem’s intimate understanding of his situation prompted him to try to run away, to avoid living up to this great responsibility. But what held him back? What did he use to avoid merida? He sensed a truth too big to ignore. Wherever he found himself, in any situation, the unavoidable truth stared him in the face. He had a hakara, a personal connection to this greater truth, that was stronger than the urge for autonomy, and this made escape impossible.

One cannot distill a lifetime of avoda into one or two pithy statements, but if I had to encapsulate Rav Wolbe’s entire agenda into a single message, I believe he was promoting this recognition, for a person to develop a true hakara in even one small way, in one aspect of Torah. This kernel of Truth can light our paths for a lifetime.