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Author: Rabbi Bentzion Shafier

The Power of the Spoken Word

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Parshas Shelach
“Send forth men, if you please, and let them spy out the land of Canaan that I give to the Children of Israel” — Bamidbar 13:2

Timeline of the miraglim

The parsha of Shelach opens up with the story of the miraglim. Rashi notes that the previous parsha ended with the story of Miriam getting tzaras and being sent out of the camp because she spoke loshon harah about Moshe. Since this parsha begins with the miraglim, it implies that these two events are connected. But Rashi is bothered by the fact that they did not happen in chronological proximity. The events of the Korach rebellion were sandwiched in between.

Rashi explains that the Torah took these two events and juxtaposed them to teach us a lesson: Had the miraglim not been so wicked, they would have learned from what happened to Miriam, and that would have prevented them from saying their negative report about the land. However, says Rashi, “These wicked people saw what happened and didn’t learn from it.”

The miraglim’s sin wasn’t loshon harah

The problem with this Rashi is that the miraglim’s sin had nothing to do with loshon harah; it emanated from a lack of trust in HASHEM. When they entered the land, they saw giants occupying fortified cities. They witnessed people dying left, right, and center. In their minds, if the Jewish nation attempted to conquer this land, they would be slaughtered wholesale – man, woman, and child.

Clearly, they were lacking in bitachon. Their faith in HASHEM was deficient. But they weren’t guilty of speaking loshon harah. First off, there is no prohibition against speaking loshon harah about land. Land is inanimate. We are forbidden from derogatory speech about people – not rocks.

Of even greater significance, once the miragalim made their mistake and concluded that HASHEM wasn’t powerful enough to bring us into the land, what they then spoke wasn’t loshon harah at all. In their calculation, they were saving the Jewish people from utter destruction, in which case it wasn’t forbidden speech; it was a mitzvah.

Why does the Torah forbid loshon harah?

The answer to this question stems from understanding why the Torah forbids loshon harah. The Rambam defines loshon harah as words that hurt, words that damage. Whether they cause a person embarrassment, loss of income, or sully his reputation, the very definition of loshon harah is words that cause harm. That is the reason the Torah forbids us to speak it – not because the Torah is so strict, but because words can have such a harmful effect.

To appreciate the damage that words can cause, imagine that I discover a cloak of invisibility. When I put this cape on, I can walk around freely without anyone seeing me. Imagine for a moment that after I find this cloak, I decide to have some fun. As I walk around the bais medrash, I take a sefer from one fellow and turn it upside down. Oh, his reaction when he sees it! Then I walk over to another fellow and close his Gemara. “Hey! What happened?” Next, I see a pair of charvusahs who are standing up for a moment. I walk over and put both of their Gemaras back on the shelf. “What–?”

I am having a jolly time!

After a while, I get a bit bolder. As someone is walking by, I leave my foot in the aisle. “Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” he yells as he falls to the floor with a crash.

“This is fun,” I think to myself. And now I really start to get into it.

As a fellow walks by, I give him a punch in the stomach, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” The next guy, I smash in the back, “Agggggh!” And before you know it, guys are falling, getting smashed, and really getting hurt. The joke is no longer funny.

The Chofetz Chaim points out to us that the Torah reserves a curse for one who “hits his neighbor while hiding.” Chazal explain that this refers to someone who speaks loshon harah about his friend. Why am I so cavalier about what I say about him? Because he isn’t here. If he were standing right nearby, I would never say what I said. I say it only because he isn’t around. And in that sense, I am hitting him while hiding.

One of the reasons that we have difficulty controlling our speech is that we don’t see it as truly damaging. “What is the big deal if I tell an interesting story or two?” we say. While I would never dream of physically harming you, when it comes to ruining your reputation, damaging your business, or causing you harm in the way that people perceive you, then I am much less concerned. The Torah is teaching us that loshon harah is forbidden because of the power of the words and the damage they can cause. That is why they are forbidden.

The power of speech

The answer to this question on the miraglim seems to be that they should have seen what happened to Miriam and learned one lesson from it – the power of speech. They should have thought to themselves, “If such a tzadekes said something only slightly questionable about her brother whom she loved and revered and had to be sent out of the encampment for seven days to suffer embarrassment and public humiliation, what does that tell us about the impact of her words? Why did HASHEM act so harshly with her? It must be that what she did was far more egregious than we realized. It must be that her words – while merely speech – are a powerful force.”

Had the miraglim learned this lesson, they would have been far more careful in their speech. They would have thought many times about the consequences of their words, and that would have made them stop and think to themselves, “Before we bring back this report, are we sure? Are we a hundred percent certain that the Jewish people will die trying to conquer this land? Didn’t HASHEM bring us out of Mitzrayim? Didn’t HASHEM split the sea for us?”

Understanding the power of speech would have caused them to think about the consequences, and the results might well have been very different.

This concept has great relevance in our lives. Most of the damage that we do through speech isn’t malicious or with bad intent. We speak without thinking about the consequences, without contemplating the results. The Torah is teaching us the power of those words and how careful we have to be with what we say, not because the Torah is machmir when it comes to sins of speech, but because of the effect that speech has to help or to harm – because of the power of the spoken word.

For more on this topic please listen to Shmuz #139- The Power of Speech

The Shmuz – Marriage Seminar, a 12 part, comprehensive guide to a successful Marriage is available FREE of charge at www.TheShmuz.com. It is also on the Shmuz App available at the App store, or on Google play, or you may listen on Kol Halashon by calling 718- 906 6400, then options 1, 4, 3

For the Love of Money – Parshas Ki Sisa

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“Moshe returned to HASHEM and said, “Please! This people has committed a grave sin and made themselves a god of gold.” – Shemos 32:31

When Moshe Rabbenu comes down from Har Sinai

When Moshe Rabbeinu came down from Har Sinai, he found a very different scene than the one he left forty days earlier. A segment of the Jewish nation, in rebellion against HASHEM, had formed a golden calf and was worshiping it. The rest of the nation stood by and didn’t protest. In context, this was such an egregious act that HASHEM threatened to destroy the entire nation.

Rashi explains that during the process of asking for forgiveness, Moshe Rabbeinu said to HASHEM, “You caused this. You gave the Jewish people gold and silver; they left Mitzraim with great riches. Isn’t it obvious that they would come to sin?”

This Rashi seems difficult to understand when we focus on who these people were and where this was taking place.

The Klal Yisroel was living in the desert. They neither worked for a living nor had any use for money. All of their needs were taken care of. They ate Mon that was delivered to their tents daily. They drank water from the Be’er, the rock that followed them in their journeys. Their clothes were washed by the Clouds of Glory, and their shoes never wore out. They didn’t need money and couldn’t use it. How could it become their downfall?

The real danger of wealth

The answer to this question is based on understanding why the Misilas Yesharim calls wealth one of the great tests of man.

Materialism and self-indulgence are the risks of affluence, but an even greater danger is that wealth can lead a person to view himself as different than everyone else. “There are regular people, but I am different because I am rich. The world is full of people, but I am in a different category. I am a rich man.”

With this also comes a sense of self-sufficiency and arrogance. “I am a wealthy man, so I don’t need anyone. I don’t need my children. I don’t need my wife. In fact… I am so wealthy that I don’t really need HASHEM.”

The danger of wealth is the sense of being a rich man

This seems to be the answer to this Rashi. Granted the Jewish people living in the desert needed nothing and could do nothing with their money, but the real risk of wealth is the sense of superiority that comes along with it. In their minds, they were now rich. As rich men, they were significant, important, too big to be dependent upon anyone, and this feeling was the root cause of their rebellion against HASHEM.

Who were these people?

This concept becomes a tremendous chiddush when we take into account that these individuals were on a higher level than any other generation in the history of mankind. They had been slaves in Mitzraim and were freed. They had lived through the entire process of the Maakos and splitting of the Yam Suf. They watched as HASHEM showed total dominion over every facet of nature.

But more than all of this, they had only recently stood at the foot of Har Sinai when HASHEM opened up the heavens and the earth and revealed the greatest secrets of Creation. They had seen and experienced HASHEM more clearly than did the greatest Naviim, which tells us that they knew exactly why they were created and how passing and insignificant is a person’s station in this world. And yet Moshe Rabbeinu compared their being wealthy to such a difficult test that it would be like putting a young man on the doorstep of sin.

This is highly illustrative of the inner workings of the human. HASHEM created deep within our hearts many needs and desires. One of these is the need for honor and prestige. The drive for Kavod is one of the strongest forces in man. Often we are unaware of its existence until a given situation brings it to the fore.

While the Klal Yisroel were then living in the ultimate Kollel community, money still had value to them – not in what it could buy, but in its more alluring sense, in the associated feeling of power and importance that it brought. They were now rich people, and that sense is so dangerous that it can destroy even the greatest of men. For that reason, Moshe said to HASHEM, “You caused this. The gold and the silver that You gave them brought them to sin.”

Living in our age

This concept has particular relevance in our day and age. Never in the history of mankind have so many enjoyed such wealth. On some level, each of us has the opportunity of “one day being rich.”

As with many life situations, prosperity can be either a blessing or a curse. If a person changes because he is now a rich man, he needs more, he feels that he deserves only the best, and he won’t be satisfied with what everyone else gets by with. That sense of superiority will turn him against his Creator, and the very wealth that he acquired will be the source of his ruin. For eternity, he will regret having been given that test – which he failed.

However, if a person remains aware that he was granted wealth for a purpose – that he is not the owner of it, but rather its custodian, duly charged with its proper use – then he can use it as a tool to help him accomplish his purpose in existence. His wealth will then be a true bracha that he enjoys in this world, and for eternity, he will enjoy that which he accomplished with it.

Rabbi Shafier is the founder of the Shmuz.com – The Shmuz is an engaging, motivating shiur that deals with real life issues.

All of the Shmuzin are available free of charge at www.theShmuz.com or on the Shmuz App for iphone or Android. Simply text the word “TheShmuz” to the number 313131 and a link will be sent to your phone to download the App.

The Influence of Society

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Parshas Vayeitzei
“And I will return in peace to my father’s house, and Hashem will be to me G-d.” – Bereishis 28:21

When Yaakov Avinu was told that his brother Aysav was plotting to kill him, he ran from his father’s home and prepared for an extended stay in exile. Along the way, he davened, prayed and asked Hashem for a number of things, including: “I should return to my father’s house in peace.”

Rashi assumes that this can’t be referring to Hashem protecting him physical harm because Yaakov already asked for that. Rather, says Rashi, it means that, “I should arrive safe from sin,” – that Hashem should protect him learning from devious ways of his future father-in-law, Lavan.

This is very difficult to understand. Why would Yaakov have a fear of learning deciet from Lavan? Each of the Avos “specialized” in a particular trait. Yaakov was the Ish Tam – honest and straightforward, integrity was his hallmark, and the mainstay of his avodas Hashem, service of Hashem. While this was a trait that he worked on extensively, it was also something that he was predisposed towards. On some level, it was part of his nature. Of all people, why would he be afraid of learning to cheat?

What makes this question even more difficult to understand is that at this time, Yaakov was seventy-seven years old. He had just completed a long period of uninterrupted Torah study. For the previous fourteen years, he had been learning in the yeshiva that Shem had established. During that time, he never lay down to sleep at nights because he was constantly toiling in Torah. Surely, such a holy person in that state of kedusha, holiness, wouldn’t be affected by being in the presence of a thief. So what was Yaakov’s great fear? The answer to this question can best be understood with a moshol, a parable.

An eye in the sky
A nanosecond is a very small segment of time. One second split into a thousand parts is measured in milliseconds. One millisecond split it into a thousand parts is measured in microseconds. And one microsecond, (a millionth of a second) split it into thousandths is measured in nanoseconds. A nanosecond is a billionth of a second – not a very long splice of time.

You may wonder: What need is there to measure such infinitely small intervals of time? One application is in one of the wonders of the modern world, the GPS. The Global Positioning Satellite system operates by measuring a signal that travels from a satellite in the sky to the ground-based monitor. A GPS unit can determine your exact location, and then guide you along to your destination by measuring the time it takes for that signal to travel. But the precision is excruciatingly demanding. One nanosecond off, and the GPS will be off by one foot. A mere millionth of a second off, and the readings will be off by a thousand feet, making it almost useless. And if it is miscalibrated by as much as a hundredth of a second off, you might as well toss the thing in the garbage. When you are measuring against objects at a vast distance, precision is vital. Even miniscule errors will show themselves in very real results.

The Greatness of the Avos
This seems to be a very apt moshol to our situation. It is very difficult for us mere mortals to even perceive the greatness and level of perfection that the Avos attained. Every action, every nuance, and every thought was weighed and measured with extraordinary precision. The result of living a life with such attention to detail was greatness of unparalleled proportions. And the Avos were very aware of human tendencies.

Yaakov Avinu wasn’t afraid that he would learn to steal because of Lavan; he was afraid that his image of what is considered normal behavior might be affected. He was afraid that by living in the house of a thief, his standard of what is considered acceptable conduct might be affected. While this wouldn’t directly change his actions, he would now be measuring from a very different standard, and that distinction might show itself many years down the line in an ever so small deviation from honesty.

This concept is very applicable to us. The Rambam (Hilchos Dayos, Perek 6) says: “It is the nature of man to be pulled after his friends and acquaintances, and act in the manner of his neighbors.” The reality is that we are shaped by our experiences and the times that we live in.

We live in wondrous times, and we have opportunities that Jews of previous generations couldn’t imagine. However, it has been a very long and bitter exile, and unfortunately we have adopted much from the people amongst whom we live. When we recognize how much the society shapes our understanding of what is normal, we can protect ourselves from the dangers of those changes.

Rabbi Shafier is the founder of the Shmuz.com – The Shmuz is an engaging, motivating shiur that deals with real life issues.

All of the Shmuzin are available free of charge at www.theShmuz.com or on the Shmuz App for iphone or Android. Simply text the word “TheShmuz” to the number 313131 and a link will be sent to your phone to download the App

Believing and not believing – Parshas Noach

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By Ben Tzion Shafier

“And Noach, his sons, and his wife came with him because of the waters of the flood.” — Bereishis 7:7

HASHEM told Noach that his entire generation was wicked and would be destroyed. Only he, his family, and certain select animals would be saved. When the flood actually began, the posuk says that Noach and his family went into the Ark “because of the waters of the flood.” Rashi observes that these words imply that it was the water that caused Noach to go into the tayva, not Hashem’s command. Therefore, Rashi says that Noach was “One who believed and didn’t believe.” On one hand, he believed that HASHEM would bring the flood, but on the other, he didn’t believe it would happen. Therefore, he didn’t actually go into the tayvah until the rains forced him in.

This Rashi becomes difficult to understand when we take into account some of the background of the event.

Noach was a Tzaddik

Noach is called a righteous man, so much so that HASHEM chose him to be the single person to rebuild the human race. So how is it possible that when HASHEM told him there would be a flood, he didn’t believe it?

This question comes into sharper relief when we view the situation in its broader context. Many of the Rishonim ask, “Why did HASHEM ask Noach to build the tayvah? If HASHEM wanted to destroy the generation and save Noach, there are many ways He could have done it. Why trouble this tzaddik to draw the plans, cut the wood, and fit together the pieces? HASHEM could have miraculously saved him without Noach having to become a carpenter.

Rashi answers that HASHEM wanted to give the generation one final opportunity to do tshuvah. When Noach would work on the tayvah, people would see him and ask, “What are you building?”

“HASHEM told me He is going to destroy the world,” he would answer. “The only hope is to repent. Do tshuvah.”

For 120 years, while he was building the tayvah, Noach was on a mission to convince his neighbors that HASHEM was going to bring a mabul and destroy the inhabited world . . . unless they changed their ways.

With this, the question becomes much stronger. Here we have a man whom the Torah calls a tzaddik, whom HASHEM spoke to directly. He was told by HASHEM Himself exactly what would happen. He then spent year after year preaching that very message to the people. How is it possible that he didn’t believe it himself?

The nature of man

The answer to this question is based on understanding the nature of man. When HASHEM created the human, He joined together two divergent elements and fused them into one entity. Part of me only wants to do what is right and proper, only wishes for that which is good, and yearns to be close to HASHEM. That part of me, the Nefesh Ha’Sichili or the spiritual soul, is untainted, pure intellect. It is the part of me that understands exactly why I was created.

However, there is another part of me, a Nefesh Ha’Bahami or a physical soul. This other part is also vibrant and has needs, but its aspirations, drives, and desires only relate to that which is physical. It only sees the here and now. In its world, if I can’t hear it, feel it, or see it, it doesn’t exist.

When I engage in any spiritual activity, these two components of me are in direct conflict. For instance, when I daven, part of me feels a deep, inner yearning to grow ever closer to HASHEM, and part of me is bored. Part of me is aglow because I am connecting to my Creator, and part of me just doesn’t care. The Nefesh Ha’Bahami doesn’t see HASHEM, can’t relate to HASHEM, and therefore doesn’t have any connection to anything spiritual.

As long as a person lives, there will be a part of his essence that denies the existence of HASHEM, not because that part is rebellious, nor because it wants to do anything wrong, but because it is incapable of seeing anything that isn’t physical. The more a person grows, the more clearly he relates to his spiritual side, and the less the Nefesh Ha’Bahami clouds his vision. However, as long as I am housed in a body, this darkness remains a part of me.

The answer to Noach

The answer to the question seems to be that Noach was a real believer. He had a powerful, unwavering belief that everything that HASHEM said would happen, would indeed come true. But that was only half of him. There was another part of Noach that didn’t see HASHEM, couldn’t relate to Him, and couldn’t see anything beyond the here and the now. That part denied that there would ever be a flood.

Even an ish tzaddik, who spent 120 years engaged in teaching that HASHEM was going to bring a flood, was still a human, and as such, he couldn’t fully see it happening. It wasn’t until the rain started that it became real to him, and then he went into the tayvah.

The darkness of physicality

This concept is very relevant to us because no matter what level a person has reached, there will always be a part of him that denies anything spiritual. There will always be a part of me that feels alone in this world because it cannot see HASHEM, nor even relate to anything that is not physical. However, there is another full dimension of me that intuitively knows that HASHEM is right here, running the world, involved in every detail of my life.

Rabbi Shafier is the founder of the Shmuz.com – The Shmuz is an engaging, motivating shiur that deals with real life issues.

All of the Shmuzin are available free of charge at www.theShmuz.com or on the Shmuz App for iphone or Android.
Simply text the word “TheShmuz” to the number 313131 and a link will be sent to your phone to download the App.

Everyone Views Things Just As I Do…

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Parshas Chayei Sarah

“And I asked her and said: “Who is your father?” and she said, “I am the daughter of Bisuel…” and I placed the bracelet on her hands.” — Bereishis 24:47

Eliezer was given a mission
Eliezer, the loyal servant of Avrohom, was charged with the mission of finding a wife for Yitzchak. Before sending him out, Avrohom Avinu cautioned him, “Only take a girl from my family and my father’s house.” Eliezer then asked HASHEM for a sign: “The girl who, when I ask her for water, responds, ‘Not only will I give you to drink, but your camels as well,’ is to be the girl that You have chosen for my master.” (Bereishis 24:14) Her response was to be the indication. If it happened exactly as he outlined, then it would mean that this was the woman intended for Yitzchak.

No sooner did Eliezer finish this request than Rivka appeared at the well. Eliezer said the words, “Please give me to drink,” and Rivka answered, “I will give your camels as well.” She then moved with such alacrity and enthusiasm that Eliezer was astounded. He was so certain that she was the right one that he immediately gave her the golden bracelets, formally engaging her to Yitzchak. Only later did he ask her name to find out that she was, in fact, from Avrohom’s family.

When telling Lavan, Eliezer changes the order
When Eliezer met Lavan and Besuel, he told over the events exactly as they transpired, but with one change. He said, “First, I asked her name and then I gave her the bracelets.”

Rashi, in explaining why Eliezer changed the order, explains that Eliezer was afraid that Lavan would never believe him if he said that he first gave the bracelets and then asked her name. He would assume Eliezer was lying. Therefore, Eliezer reversed the order, “First, I asked her name and then I gave her the bracelets.”

Eliezer wasn’t afraid to say a miracle happened to him
This becomes difficult to understand when we recall that just a few moments before this, Eliezer told Lavan of a striking miracle that had occurred to him. When he began telling over the events, he started with the expression, “Today I left, and today I arrived,” recounting a startling phenomenon.

Avrohom lived many days’ journey from Charan. Eliezer had said that he set out from Avrohom’s house that very morning and arrived the same day. It was physically impossible for Eliezer, who was traveling with ten camels laden with goods, to have covered that distance in such a short time. Chazal explain that he had a Kifitzas Ha’Derech. The land literally folded under him like an accordion so that his few steps took him over vast distances, something so supernatural that it is hard to imagine.

Apparently, he wasn’t afraid to tell this to Lavan. He didn’t assume that Lavan would call him a liar. Yet he was afraid to mention that he trusted that HASHEM had brought him to the right woman for Yitzchak. The question is — why? If Eliezer felt that Lavan could believe that HASHEM did miracles for him, why couldn’t Lavan believe that Eliezer trusted HASHEM?

Seeing the whole world through my eyes only
It would seem the answer is that Lavan lived by the golden rule: Do onto others before they do you in. Lavan was devious, deceitful, and lived a ruthless existence. Because he was untrustworthy, he didn’t trust anyone else, either.

Lavan assumed that since he was too smart to trust anyone, then anyone who “had brains in his head” would never be so foolish as to trust. He saw the whole world through his eyes. The idea that someone could trust HASHEM was something he couldn’t accept. Miracles, as unlikely as they may be, he knew could happen. But for someone intelligent to actually trust — that couldn’t be.

Lavan was engaging in what is known as projection: projecting his worldview onto others, assuming that the way he was, the way that he approached life, is the same way that all others do. He could never accept that someone would let his guard down and actually trust. Therefore, Eliezer was afraid to mention that he acted with complete trust in HASHEM. He knew Lavan wouldn’t believe him and would assume he was lying.

The way we see the world
This concept has great relevance to both the way that we relate to others as well as the way we relate to HASHEM.

If a person is a giving and caring individual, it is easy for him to see the good in man. If I am a giver, then intuitively I see that in others. I assume their motivating force is generosity. However, if I am self-centered, then I tend to see that as the driving force in others, and the nature of man appears to me to be dark.

This concept applies to our relationship with HASHEM as well. Often times we find it difficult to discern the kindness of HASHEM. Where is the chessed? Where is the loving generosity that HASHEM is reported to exhibit throughout Creation?

The more that I practice doing for others without expecting anything in return, the more I can see that quality in the way that HASHEM created and runs this world. The more that I train myself to be a giver, the more accurately I learn to see giving in HASHEM.

Quite simply, my character traits and personal bias shape not only the way that I act towards others, but the very way that I view the world. My view of people, my view of those close to me, and ultimately my view of my Creator are based on my perception. My perception is based on me — who I am, how I act, and how I think. The more that I adopt the nature of a giver, the better a person I will become, and additionally, the more easily I will identify that same trait in others and in HASHEM. The whole world takes on a different view.

Rabbi Shafier is the founder of the Shmuz.com – The Shmuz is an engaging, motivating shiur that deals with real life issues.

All of the Shmuzin are available free of charge at www.theShmuz.com or on the Shmuz App for iphone or Android. Simply text the word “TheShmuz” to the number 313131 and a link will be sent to your phone to download the App.