“When You Look
at Him, You See Me!”
by
בס"ד
A dear friend and I have a joke in which we call each other HaAnav
HaGadol BaOlam – the Most Humble Person in the World. This humor derived from our thinking about
Moshe Rabbainu, who was the Most Humble Person in the World, and realizing
that, “If God were my dearest friend, would I be so humble?!”
Truthfully, our humor originates from our needs as human beings to
recognize and be recognized. Even
without getting involved with recognition as an end in itself, there is no
doubt that much of what we do is because of recognition that we will receive.
From fame to infamy and everything in between, recognition is a powerful
motivator.
Recognition is such a major factor in our lives that it is difficult to
find a people and society that do not place a premium value on it. Whom we choose to honor and award and why
might be the most accurate measure of a culture that we have. In today’s world, where superlative pursues
superlative and achievement overtakes achievement, society might even whither
without it. Sometimes it seems to be
that the sole underlying principle in this world is: “Be noticed!”
Thankfully, we also know that there is much positive recognition,
especially that which is neither solicited nor sought. Those who have been blessed to receive the
genuine accolades and acknowledgement, gratitude and commendation of others
know that it is one of the most wonderful feelings that a human being can
experience.
In relating to the centrality of recognition in our lives, the Torah
emphasizes anavah - humbleness and modesty and the opposite of recognition - as
the epitome of achievement. Moshe Rabbainu, who spoke face to face with God,
paradoxically is our paradigm for this virtue.
Setting aside for the moment what this means, let’s consider one
thing. Moshe Rabbainu was human and even
though he didn’t pursue honor, award, or high office, nevertheless, at some
point in his life seemingly he would want at least the satisfaction of saying,
“I helped do this!” Yet God tells us
otherwise; that Moshe Rabbainu was genuinely the Most Humble Man in the
World. How and why?
At the very beginning of Sefer Shemot [1:1] the Torah recites the names
of B’nei Yisrael who had descended to Mitzraim, even though they had already
been mentioned at the end of Sefer Bereshit.
Rashi, in explaining why God reiterates who had descended to Mitzraim,
quotes a Midrash and makes a comparison between the stars and us. This is an incredibly beautiful Midrash, and
I would like to share my understanding of it.
When we gaze at the nighttime sky, we are only interested in whatever
light we can see, which means primarily the stars. Everything (and there is something there)
that lies in between them is ignored. Additionally, although it is not so
visible to us, stars are unique. No two
are identical, anymore than any two of anything in creation are identical. David HaMelech explains their individuality
by teaching us that God calls each one by name (Ps. 147:3). Furthermore, we know that were we to travel
toward any single star, that as we approach it would gradually become more and
more overwhelming in its luminance.
Our view from this side of the r’kia [Bereshit 1:6] (lit: curtain but
usually translated as firmament when referring to the sky) when we gaze
Heavenwards is the same view that God has when He gazes Earthwards from His
side. He, too, sees points of light
separated by darkness. These points
aren’t stars, but our neshemot, the souls of Am Yisrael, and the unlighted area
that lies in between us is the rest of creation. Each of these points of light, as our names
reveal, is unique. Equally, like the
stars, as we get closer and closer to any individual Jew, each reveals more and
more light of greater and greater intensity.
But why compare us to stars? To
understand stars, God gave us the sun. “The sun, from [its home in] the East
until its setting, praises God’s name.” [Hallel – Ps. 113:3] In its journey each day, the sun’s work is
dispersing light and warmth, in which doing it gradually rises to a summit as
if in its full radiance and warmth it can once and for all fix all of
creation. But then, in not achieving
this but still in having done what it could for today, it descends homeward to
begin again tomorrow.
Moshe Rabbainu, who stood next to God and spoke to Him face to face,
merited to share God’s vantage point and His view of Am Yisrael. When he descended the mountain, Moshe
Rabbainu returned not only with the Torah but also with God’s understanding of us. Yet how does this teach us about his
anavah? Maybe the answer lies in
understanding the one aspect of Moshe Rabbainu that is the essential ingredient
of him, and the foundation of the Torah.
From the beginning of Sefer Shemot until the end of Sefer Devarim, Moshe
Rabbainu is a central figure in everything that happens. Pharaoh, Mitzraim, Torah, Midbar, Miskhan,
Kohanim, Leviim, and preparation for Eretz Yisrael are just some of the list of
all that he did. Nevertheless, despite
however incredibly multi-talented and accomplished he was, whatever Moshe
Rabbainu did and whatever Moshe Rabbainu taught one thing was absolutely true:
that everything - every single bit of it - was coming from God. For all of his immense substance, in someway
Moshe Rabbainu was as transparent as glass.
When you looked at him and at his life and when you dealt with him, all
that you could see was the Divine.
We now start reading Sefer VaYikra, which focuses on Kedushah (Sanctity)
since it contains the laws of the Kohanim, the rituals of avodah in the Beit
HaMikdash, the laws of purity and impurity, etc. The first word of the Sefer VaYikra is
“VaYikra” meaning “And [He, i.e. God] called”, and hence the reason for the
name of the Sefer.
In this instance, the word “VaYikra” (which is spelled: vav yud quf resh
aleph) ends with an undersized letter “aleph”.
The Midrash teaches us that it is undersized because God (lacking a way
to give Moshe Rabbainu the honor that was due him) took ink from this letter
“aleph” and placed it on Moshe Rabbainu’s forehead. (This, incidentally, is considered the source
of the light that beamed from Moshe Rabbainu’s face.)
Even coming from God, this seems to be a tremendously disproportional
exchange in relation to what Moshe Rabbainu did. In reality, however, we don’t even begin to understand what Moshe
Rabbainu received. The Torah – God’s
master plan for creation – begins with the letter “beit”, which is the second letter
of the Hebrew alphabet. The obvious
question is, “Why didn’t it begin with the first letter, the ‘aleph’?” And, since it didn’t begin with the “aleph”
[which had to have been created before the “beit”], where did it use that first
“aleph”?!
The obvious answer, of course, is that the first “aleph” was used in the
first letter of the first word in the first commandment that was uttered at Har
Sinai - “Anochi”, God’s name. Since
Torah is one of the reasons for creation (Am Yisrael the other [see Rashi,
Bereshit 1:1]), that’s the visible “aleph”, the one that we can all point to
and say, “There it is! That’s God!” Where, however, is it in this world? Do we see it?
Can we point to it? God can and
did. From the first “aleph” in the first
word in Sefer VaYikra, which focuses on Kedushah (Sanctity), God takes ink and
anoints Moshe Rabbainu’s face. Utterly
against his will, the honor and award that Moshe Rabbainu fled his whole life
overtook him.
The Torah teaches us: “And the man, Moshe, was extremely humble, humbler
than any person on the face of the earth. [BaMidbar: 12:3] The meaning “humbler than” comes from the use
of the Hebrew letter “mem” for the comparative “than”. “Mem” can also be used for the preposition
“from” and then we get the reading: “from every person”. When we understand that Moshe Rabbainu stood
alongside God and learned to see Am Yisrael as God sees us, then we can
understand how Moshe Rabbainu got his humbleness “from us”.
In God’s giving Moshe of His “aleph”, we know why. God said, “When you look at him, you see
Me!”.