Humilty is Hard: Parshat B'ha'alot'cha 5770

Let’s start with a riddle:

Everybody thinks that they have me, but very few really do.
In fact, if anyone ever tells you that they have me…doubt them immediately.
But if you do have me, you have peace.
For without me there is only sin.
What am I?

Simple. I am humility.

Everyone thinks they have humility, but very few really do.
In fact, if anyone ever tells you that they have great humility, doubt them immediately.
If you do have humility, they you will have peace.
Without a sense of humility there can be only sin.

It is true, humility is a fickle friend. We all know that it is the only true path towards a pious, righteous life. We also all know how to get it: eschew accolades, avoid the egotistical impulse, and constantly remember that we are but dust and ashes. But the moment we obtain it, the very instant our humility is achieved, we smile a proud smile and it instantly vanishes from within our grasp.
The most amazing thing about humility is that no matter who you are, no matter what you do in life, no matter how much or how little you have, we all seem to suffer the same fate: we are needlessly prideful.

There is a famous Hasidic teaching which illustrates this unfortunate truth:
“Rabbi R’phael of Bashard said: When I get to the World to Come, I will have a valid excuse for every sin I have committed in this world, save one:
Let me explain, when the Heavenly Beit Din asks me: Why did you not busy yourself with the Holy Torah? I will answer: I did not know the Torah, I was a Bor, a empty pit, an Am HaAretz, an imbecile. I simply did not have the intellect to be a student of Torah!
And when they ask me: then why did you not serve God through prayer and Ma’asim Tovim, good deeds?
To this I will answer: I just didn’t have the free time. I was so busy finding food for my family, I just never got around to praying or doing acts of loving kindness.
And when they ask me: Then why did you not afflict yourself, taking on personal fasts of penitence?
I will answer them: Because I was a sickly person and I was afraid fasting would endanger my life.
And when they continue and ask me: So why did you not give Tzedakah?
I will tell them: I did not have any money to give! I was a poor, impoverished person.
But, when they ask me: You, who are an imbecile, a beggar, a weak and sickly man, why then did you commit the sin of being prideful? What is the source of this pride?
For this I will have no reply, for this I will have no answer at all.”

The story is humorous but illustrative as well. It employs the famous Kal v’Homer argument: if an imbecilic, weak-minded, sickly pauper can’t stop themselves from committing the sin of being overly prideful; then how much the more so, someone who is intelligent, learned, sprite and wealthy!

And yet, there is one man in our tradition, and only one man, who merited the oxymoronic title: “the most humble man on earth” and that was Moshe Rabbeinu, our great teacher Moses.

In this morning’s parsha, in a fascinating passage which could be the source of a thousand sermons, Moses is given his most famous accolade: the most humble man on earth. The context of this title is what is interesting: it comes within a narrative where Miriam and Aaron are gossiping about Moses behind his back. They seem to be upset by his choice of spouse or by the fact that God seems to favor Moses over his prophetic siblings. Right after their complaint, almost as a non-sequitor we are told:
וְהָאִישׁ מֹשֶׁה עָנָו מְאֹד מִכֹּל הָֽאָדָם אֲשֶׁר עַל-פְּנֵי הָֽאֲדָמָֽה:
“Now Moses was a very humble man, more so than any other man on Earth.”

Rashi explains that Moses’ humility can be described in two ways:
Firstly he was Shafal, lowly; meaning he never ascribed greatness to himself or to his role in leading the people out of Egypt, to Mt. Sinai, through the wilderness and to the edge of the Promised Land. Indeed the midrash teaches us that it is:
“Because of his humility, that Moses was worthy to receive the Torah.” –Tanhumah Bereishit 1.6b

Secondly, Rashi explains, he was a Savlan, he had extreme patience, something that Moses clearly demonstrates each time he has to deal with the endless griping and moaning of the Children of Israel. Yet according to our tradition, even Moses’ wasn’t enough of a Savlan to merit entering the Holy Land. After all, it was in his moments of anger, smashing the tablets during the incident of the Golden Calf, and hitting the rock, instead of asking it gently for water, where he lost his temper, and perhaps he therefore lost his ability to lead the people.
So I ask you, if Moses, our greatest prophet and the most humble man on the face of the earth can’t keep it together, what chance do we have?

The answer is: none. If the most imbecilic person in the world can’t help but be prideful, and if the most humble man in the world can’t help but lose his humility in moments of anger, then no we do not stand a chance.

But perhaps that is the way that God intends it. Perhaps our quest towards living humble lives is not meant to be played out in extremes, but rather in seeking out the gentle balance between humility and pride.

In order to emphasize the need for balance in this regard the Hasidic Master Rebbe Simcha Bunim of Pessischa taught: at all times one should carry two pieces of paper in their pocket: One piece of paper, quoting the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 4:5) should read:
בשבילי נברא העולם
The world was created for my sake alone.

The other paper, quoting our forefather Abraham, reading:
וְאָֽנֹכִי עָפָר וָאֵֽפֶר
I am but dust and ashes.


This teaching indicates to us that there are times in life when the clarion call for action is sounded. In these moments it is our duty to arise, and pulling out the first piece of paper claim: The world was created for my sake alone! And as Rabbi Nahman of Breslav explained when we realize that the world was created for our sake alone, then we are forced at every single second to take action בְּתִיקוּן העוֹלָם in repairing the world, to seek out that which the world is lacking, and to pray that it will be completed.

But, let us not forget the other piece of paper in our pocket. Like a still, small voice it cries out to us in moments of pride reminding us that we are but dust and ashes. That we are simply a lucky collection of atoms, a modicum of carbon, destined to die like every person, every animal, and every flower has died before us.

Yes, this is the trick to life. Striking a delicate balance between moments when pride is called for, and moments when humility must drive our words and actions. And sadly, too often I think our modern leaders finds themselves painfully out of balance.

Much has been said in the past several years about the tone and tenor of our politics. Sure it has always been a dirty game to play, but there were moments in our past where a healthier balance between pride and humility led us to achieve great things, and build a healthy society in which to raise our children. But alas it seems these days the ratio has been thrown out of whack.

On Thursday I was listening to a report on NPR covering President Obama’s press conference defending his administrations’ handling of the disastrous oil spill in the Gulf. One reporter, from a right-wing cable news network which rhymes with POX, asked a question of the president. The content of the question is not important, what I noticed was the tone and the language. Essentially this reporter was asking the President to admit that he was a no-good, lousy, on-the-take bureaucrat and that he should basically resign the presidency immediately or the reporter would claim a citizen’s arrest and do it for him!

I turned off the radio right then and there. Though I was hoping for the following response:

Taking out the first piece of paper with a scowl on his face he would remind the reporter that it is he, and no one else, who bears the title The President of the United States of America, that he was elected by a majority to a four-year term of office and whether you agree or disagree with any of his policies you better be certain to give him the respect that he deserves. בשבילי נברא העולם
The world was created for my sake alone.

But then he would catch himself, as he pulled out the other piece of paper and said: I am only human. I can only do my best, and you know what, often my best is just not good enough. Try as I might to remind myself that I am the most powerful man in the free world, I can’t help but also remember: וְאָֽנֹכִי עָפָר וָאֵֽפֶר
I am but dust and ashes.

So I will make a suggestion: Let’s all go home after shabbas tonight, write down these phrases on two pieces of paper and place them in our pockets for perpetuity, then we will each succeed in striking the right balance in our life between pride and humility right?

No. Sadly it’s not that simple. The real trick is in knowing which situation in life calls for which piece of paper.

Shabbat Shalom.