During the time of the first Beit Hamikdash, Chavakuk beseached Hashem that death be eliminated from the Jewish people (see Midrash Rabbah 38:2). He quoted the pasuk in this week’s parsha, “This is what you shall do to sanctify them…” (Shemot 29:1), as well as the beginning of Parshat Kedoshim where Hashem commands us to be a holy people. Chavakuk claimed, “Master of the World, You desire that we be holy; remove death from us!” Chavakuk felt that holiness and death cannot coexist. Hashem responded that to do this would be impossible, for death had already been decreed upon mankind because of the sin of Adam Harishon.

Rav Henoch Leibowitz (based on adaptations from his talks) makes an incredible observation on this midrash. Let’s look at the context of this situation. Chavakuk’s generation are the people who are deserving of the impending destruction of the Beit Hamikdash. That doesn’t sound like the people of this generation were on their best behavior, to say the least! But Chavakuk feels that these very Jew are so holy to the point that they should deserve the elimination of death: eternal life. Is it possible that Jews guilty of such misdeeds are holy enough to deserve that death be eliminated from among them? Moreover, if we look closely at Hashem’s response, the counter argument seems to be based on external reasons. Hashem “blamed” the impossibility of the removal of death on the sin of Adam Harishon; why didn’t Hashem just say these people are on too low of a stature to deserve it? Seems like if not for the reason of Adam, Hashem would agree that these Jews were holy enough and on the caliber to deserve the elimination of death! How can Chavakuk, and even more so Hashem, Who knows much deeper the misdeeds of this generation, feel that they were great enough to deserve such a remarkable endowment of eternal life?

Rav Henoch explains that the kedusha of a Jew is not only a result of the mitzvot he performs and the Torah he might study. There is a more innate, universal source of holiness in every single Jew: the spiritual inheritance bequeathed to us by our forefathers. From the moment we stood at Sinai, every Jew was sanctified to such a spiritual greatness that death should in fact be inappropriate because, by definition, his exalted nature deserves immortality. Only the sin of Adam allows death to affect him. This legacy is passed down to every generation, righteous or sinful, and applies to our generation as well. True, Chavakuk’s generation were sinful and deserved to be punished, but they nevertheless retained their inherent kedusha.

I heard an incredible story from R’ Ephraim Shapiro that I think brings this concept to life: About 40 years there was a group of bachurei yeshiva who were up to no good. For them, their “no good” consisted of prank-calling rabbanim with bogus she’eilot in Halacha. These bachurim would switch off making the calls, and it was a certain bachur’s turn to call a certain rabbi. This rabbi was pretty famous and currently—although no longer alive—extremely well known, to say the least. This bachur was about to call up the one and only…yep, you guessed it, Rav Moshe Feinstein. You heard it right. He made the call—late at night. The rebbetzin answered and informed the bachur that Rav Moshe was sleeping, but asked, “Should I wake up the Rosh Yeshiva?” The bachur said yes. Rav Moshe comes to the phone and he hears it’s a halachic inquiry. He washes his hands first, and then he listens to the question but realizes it’s a fake question, a phone scam. He asked the bachur, “Where do you learn?” The bachur didn’t want to answer for fear of getting in trouble. Rav Moshe reassured him he wouldn’t get him in trouble, and so the bachur told him where he learned. “What Gemara are you learning,” asked Rav Moshe. The bachur answered. “What daf,” asked Rav Moshe. The bachur told him. Rav Moshe said, “Let me ask you a question on Tosfos,” and after he asked it, Rav Moshe asked him, “Do you understand that question?” But the bachur said no. It was about midnight, but Rav Moshe with his tremendous patience started to teach the bachur word by word, line by line, the entire amud. “Do you understand?” asked Rav Moshe. But again the bachur said no. Rav Moshe taught him the Gemara again and again, and finally when he understood, the bachur exclaimed how amazing of a question it was. Rav Moshe told him, “Tomorrow when you go to yeshiva and you’re learning the Tosafot, ask it to your rebbe.” At yeshiva the next day, the bachur asked his rebbe this question and, taken aback by the incredible question, the rebbe told the bachur he would have to work on the question and get back to him. After the entire week, the rebbe finally gave an answer. And then it hit the bachur. He realized how Rav Moshe invested the time with him, gave him a penetrating question to ask his rebbe, so that he would feel that he mattered, that he was worthy. The bachur went home, went to his bedroom and started to cry. His parents came in and asked why he is crying. Through his tears, all the bachur was able to say was “Rav Moshe. Rav Moshe believed in me! And if Rav Moshe believed in me, I believe in myself. I want to go back to yeshiva and start learning regularly.”

The natural holiness of every Jew. Rav Moshe perceived a distraught bachur up to no good. But he saw through the facade. He knew better. He understood better. He was focused on the essence of the person, the holiness. In just about a two-hour conversation with another Jew who didn’t know of his own holiness, Rav Moshe patiently and lovingly reminded him of it. It was that episode that drastically turned the entire life of that one bachur around, who went on to become a famous magid shiur in the tristate area. Rav Moshe believed in the holiness of this Jew, and instead of focusing on his misdeeds, he cherished his Godliness.

This concept needs to be stressed now more than ever. When we look at another Jew who’s up to no good, whether it’s a child, a student, or whomever it may be, it’s because they might not know of their own greatness and holiness and what they can achieve. It’s up to us to remind them of it. Like Rav Moshe, we can choose wisely and tactfully: Rather than getting caught up in a fellow Jew’s no-good behavior, we can choose to respond to the person’s true essence by encouraging him or her that they are much greater than they think; much more capable, and far more holy.

By Binyamin Benji

Binyamin Benji currently learns in Rabbi Shachter’s kollel at Yeshivas Rabbi Yitzchak Elchanan, and is a semicha candidate there as well. He holds an MSW from Wurzweiler School of Social Work and is the author of the weekly Torah portion in the Sephardic Congregation of Paramus’ newsletter. He can be reached at [email protected].