Balak: Balak and Bil'am: Fear Itself – and Joy

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The Baal Shem Tov (Besht) told the following parable: There was once a very wise king who wanted to challenge his subjects. He built many walls around his palace, one inside the other, with rivers in between them, as well as lions, tigers and bears for good measure. On the other hand, he also scattered there much silver and gold between the walls, and announced: "Whoever comes to see me, all the gold and silver he finds there is his!" Many people tried to climb the walls, but retreated as soon as they saw the wild animals. Others got up the courage, even took some money, but became more afraid as they advanced, and returned home.

But one man, who truly venerated and loved the king, paid no heed to the difficulties and dangers, because his heart burned with love within him to see and be with the king. And so he set off to climb the walls – and found that there actually were no walls; everything was imaginary. The only real thing he saw was the king on his throne, smiling and extending his hand in welcome…

With this parable, the Besht sought to teach us that the world is filled with many obstacles on the way to true service of G-d. One of them is simply the fear that we will not really be able to reach great heights. Other obstacles are our worries about making a living, which prevent us from fulfilling our potential to serve G-d. But in fact, all these and others are simply not true; they are all in our imagination. In truth, if a Jew can make sure not to scare himself, but to truly remember and know that he has the ability to rise up and fulfill his real potential – he will discover that he has the resources to serve G-d no matter what other challenges he faces, and will ultimately reach the King.

In truth, this idea is found in our weekly Torah portion of Balak [Bamidbar 22,2-25,9, to be read outside Israel only next week]. Two entities colluded in the wilderness to prevent Israel from cleaving to G-d and reaching the Holy Land, home of the Divine Presence: Moav and Midian, represented by King Balak and the Gentile prophet Bil'am. Let us consider: What were their respective motivations in seeking to harm Israel?

Regarding Moav, the Torah tells us that they were simply afraid: "The Moavites feared Israel because the people [of Israel] were so numerous" (22,3). In truth, however, they had nothing to fear; it was all in their imagination, as in the parable of the Besht. For G-d had commanded Israel straight out, "Do not attack Moav and do not provoke them to fight; I am not giving you their land…" (D'varim 2,9), meaning that the Moavites were simply scaring themselves, for no reason.

The other element in this struggle against Israel was Bil'am, who sought to harm Israel for nothing more than --- riches. He hinted at this himself, when he claimed to be subject only to G-d's word and said to Balak's messengers: "Even if Balak would give me his entire home's worth of silver and gold, I cannot violate G-d's word…" (22,18). As the Siftei Chachamim explains Rashi's commentary there, Bil'am did not say, "Even if Balak would cut off my head" or the like, but rather hinted that his true desires were for other people's money.

Thus, two phenomena joined together: One entity scares itself and allows itself to fear for no reason, and the other seeks illicit, transient wealth, and between the two of them, G-d reveals that these are both imaginary, and that Bil'am essentially has no power to curse G-d's nation, which will remain eternally blessed.

This is a very important point for us to adopt in our efforts to serve G-d and fulfill the Torah.

Who doesn't know the popular song, "Kol ha'olam kulo, gesher tzar me'od" (The entire world is a very narrow bridge)! The composer of these words was none other than Rabbe Nachman of Bresolv (Likutei Moharan Tinyana, 48). Most people know the end of the song as, "V'ha'ikar – lo lefa'ched klal" (The main thing is not to have any fear!). But in truth, Rabbe Nachman's original wording has one extra letter: not lo lefa'ched, but rather lo l'hitpa'ched, which is the reflexive form of the verb, and it means: "The main thing is not to allow yourself to fear!"

Rabbe Nachman is speaking to one who is entering the path of G-d, teaching that he must know that there will be difficulties and tests along the way, and that precisely when he wishes to take on the challenge, that is when his negative inclinations and urges will rise up and try to topple him and cause him to give up!

And therefore Rabbe Nachman says, "Know that one must pass over a very narrow bridge, and the principle rule is that he must not scare himself!" One must shake off his lack of faith in himself, and believe that he has the strength to rise up and do what is right. Rabbe Nachman continues there that one must gird himself forcefully against the Evil Inclination, and that "a true tzaddik once said that if he had heard this advice when he was just starting out, [he] would have run very eagerly to serve G-d…." 

And it is a good idea to follow what Rabbe Nachman writes at the end of the above passage, that one should seek out and find good points within himself, even a small merit or good thing, "and with that little goodness that he finds within himself, he should be very happy, and encourage himself, and not overlook it. Even if he fell into sin, even then he must strengthen himself with the small goodness that he still can find within himself, to the point where he will end up meriting via this to return to G-d completely… and the main thing is always to be in a state of happiness, even with frivolous dancing and laughter, in order to reach this state of happiness, which is a very great thing."

May we merit to strengthen and become strengthened very greatly in avodat Hashem!

Hukat: The Logic of Not Understanding

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion (in Israel; outside the Land, it will be read next week) is Hukat (Bamidbar 19,1-22,1). It begins with the beyond-human-understanding laws of the Red Heifer, its preparation, and how it purifies those who have been defiled by a corpse or the like.

This law, like several others in the Torah, is called a ḥukah, meaning a statute that we cannot understand. Another example of a ḥukah is the ban on marrying one's brother's widow - unless the brother died childless, in which case it is actually a mitzvah for the surviving brother to marry her. The original ban is termed a ḥukah (see Vayikra 20,22) – for it is very difficult to understand how marrying a particular woman can become a mitzvah after she was so clearly forbidden to him beforehand.

How, in fact, are we to understand these ḥukah commandments? And why is the Red Heifer the "mother" of all such mitzvot, being termed not just a ḥukah, but also ḥukat HaTorah, "the statute of the Torah" (in the second verse of the portion, Bamidbar 19,2)?

The Medrash (Bamidbar Rabba 19) teaches that these and two other examples of ḥukah are "used by the Evil Inclination to try to sway a person to leave the Torah path, because they appear to be self-contradictory."

The Medrash continues and says that an idol-worshiper once asked the renowned R. Yochanan ben Zakkai why we prepare a Red Heifer in a manner that appears to be nothing more than black magic? "You bring a cow, burn it, crush it, and take its ashes [mixed with water and other ingredients]. Then, if one of you becomes defiled by a corpse, you sprinkle some drops of the mixture on him, and declare him pure!?"

R. Yochanan answered, "You do the same thing! If a demon or spirit of madness enters one of you, what do you do?" The man answered that they make a potion, place it on a fire, etc. R. Yochanan said, "With us too, the defilement is an impurity, which we remove…"

R. Yochanan's students later said to him, "You dismissed him easily, but how do you explain the Red Heifer to us??" R. Yochanan said, "By your lives, it is not the corpse that defiles, nor do the water ashes purify. Rather, G-d decreed this law, and we have no choice but to follow it, as is written, 'This is the statute of the Torah.'"

It would seem that this Medrash cannot be understood plainly. For one thing, how can the concept of fulfilling a law without a reason be understood? And could it be that R. Yochanan would lie to the idol-worshiper, and then reveal the truth only to his students? And the answer that he told them - that the dead do not cause impurity - does this not contradict clear Torah verses? And above all: Is the ultimate answer that R. Yochanan provided to his skeptical students merely that there is no answer, and that's it?! What kind of explanation is that?!

Rather, the explanation is this:

The People of Israel do not require logical explanations in order to fulfill the mitzvot; the fact that G-d commanded them is enough for them to fulfill them whole-heartedly. Yes, the Sages gave reasons for some mitzvot, in order to fulfill a different mitzvah: that of studying and knowing about the Torah that which can be known. For just as we must serve G-d whole-heartedly, so must we do so with the entirety of our other organs, such as the intellect.

But where the Sages gave no reason, this is no problem: Our intellect can simply subject itself to the mitzvah via the knowledge that all of the Torah's commands are G-d's Wisdom, far from our own human wisdom; this knowledge, when internalized, certainly can easily help us subjugate our intellect to the Divine intellect.

This can be likened to two men who wish to be healthy. One is a hermit and knows nothing of modern medicine, and makes up his own medicines and treatments that he has concluded will help him. The other man lives in modern society and takes medicines in accordance with the latest scientific knowledge taught by people he knows and admires. The first person lives in doubt all his life; he does not truly know if the herbs he is taking will work. But the second knows with his intellect that he is taking the right approach, even without understanding why or how his medicines work.

Similarly, our trust in the Sages and their teachings is greater than whatever "logical" theories we can make up. The Sages of Truth can provide us with more certainty that our own understandings – which may end up being wrong. All the more so is this true for one who trusts G-d A-lmighty to teach him the true path.

Thus, the Sages provided some reasons for mitzvot, for the reason mentioned above – and also because there are those people whose faith is not yet complete, but which could be buttressed by understanding reasons for the mitzvot. So explained Rabbi Eliyahu Ki-Tov, in his work The Book of Our Heritage, Sefer HaTodaah.

Regarding R. Yochanan's response to the pagan: No, he did not lie to him. He rightfully said that via the Red Heifer's ashes, we get rid of the impurity – but this was only a technical answer. He did not delve into the depth of the matter, because he apparently felt that the man would not be able to comprehend it.

However, when his students came and said they wanted to hear the depth of the issue, he felt that they would, in fact, be able to grasp it. He explained to them the profound truth that the Red Heifer and its laws are actually the basis for all of the mitzvot: The corpse in and of itself does not defile the living, but does so only by virtue of G-d's decree. The same is true for the water ashes: They purify the impure only in the merit of G-d's decree that they do so!

And the fact that no reason was given to us as to how this works is actually a teaching in and of itself – that the most important principle in doing the mitzvot is the knowledge that there is nothing more logical than fulfilling them simply because they were commanded by the Creator of all life – He Who keeps the world perpetually running and in existence, and the One Who wants and knows what is best for us! What could be more logical than that?!

From this we also learn that we fulfill other mitzvot as well – not only the Red Heifer –not because of some "logical" reason that we have been taught, or because we "understand" it – but simply because the right, smart, and logical thing to do is to listen and adhere to G-d's word and will!

Is it then worthwhile to learn the reasons for mitzvot? Yes, because it is another mitzvah in and of itself to know the Torah and its secrets, to whatever extent we can.

The message of Parshat Hukat, then, is not to fulfill unknowable mitzvot blindly – but rather because the fulfillment of all mitzvot commanded by G-d in the Torah is ultimately the most logical thing we can do.

Korach: Why Individualism is Divisive

by Rav Azriel Ariel, Rabbi of Ateret in the Binyamin Region and heads the "Brotherhood" Department for Jewish Social Policy at the Torah and State Center, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion (in Israel) is Korach (Bamidbar 16-18), which always leads to thoughts of social division and controversy. Let us discuss the roots of his ancient dispute and why it is poisonous to a society.

In today's sharp societal debate regarding proposed reforms to Israel's judicial system, one of the most charged issues is that of "equality." One side views equality as a supreme value that must be accorded a place of honor in Israel's unwritten Constitution that the Supreme Court is attempting to create. The other group views equality as a threat to Israel's identity as the State of the Jewish People, which by definition must actualize Jewish values.

This dispute forces us to clarify what the Torah has to say about the concept of equality, even if the word itself does not appear there.

The ancient world was hierarchical, predicated on the idea that some people were born to be kings, some to be subjects, and others to be slaves. This perception perfectly paralleled their world of idol worship, in which a supreme god ruled and tyrannized the lower gods. The Torah of Israel created a revolution: no more plurality of gods, but one single God Who created all human beings in His image. All human beings were born from one couple, and everyone shares a basic common denominator: everyone was created equal.

The Sages expressed this in Tractate Sanhedrin (37a), which states that one reason man (Adam) was created single was "for the sake of peace, so that no one may say to another, 'My father is greater than yours.'" Jewish ethics therefore demands certain basic universal duties that apply to every human being: "You shall not murder," "You shall not steal," "There shall be one law and one judgment for you" - not only for the citizen, but also "for the stranger who dwells among you."

Yes, the Torah grants great importance to "equality" before the law, to the extent that even a King is subject equally to Torah laws. Men and women are equal in terms of their essential Halakhic obligations; the lands in Eretz Yisrael were distributed equally proportionately to the Tribes, the manna portions were allocated equally; and the half-shekel obligation was equal: one half-shekel for each.

Why then do we see that today's religious public shies away, to put it mildly, from the progressive concept of "equality"?

The first problem is that equality is defined as an independent moral value. Indeed, all human beings are created in the image of God – but how does this logically lead to the conclusion that they must be equal in everything? The Torah and the teachings of the Sages do not define equality as a value, but rather as a "standard of justice." That is, the essence of the law is its universality, and if it discriminates without cause between people, it is unjust - and an unjust law is not binding (Sh. Ar., Choshen Mishpat 369,6).

This does not mean that private resources that a person acquired through his own initiative and efforts must be distributed to others so that all end up with the same amount (although he must give some to the poor). Equality, therefore, is an important measure of justice, but it is not the sole parameter. Turning equality into an independent moral value mars other aspects of justice, and as such is injustice, or worse.

The Totality of it

The second flaw in today's concept of equality is its totality. It appears to be given priority over every other value it confronts. Thus, the IDF is being gradually ordered to allow girls into every army combat unit, whilst trampling not only the values of modesty and the boundaries between the genders – but also that of "victory." Thus in a series of Supreme Court rulings, Jewish and Zionist values are being displaced to make way for civil equality.

The Torah does not take that direction. Yes, "man is beloved because he was created in G-d's image" (Avot 3,14), but "Israel is My first-born son" (4,22). Israel itself is divided into Cohanim, Levites, and Israelites; men and women have different Halakhic obligations; the lots of the Land were divided equally, but in the end, various calculations had to be made, resulting in inequality (see Bava Batra 117a). Equality is clearly important, but its value relative to others is far from absolute.

How Did This Happen?

How did equality become such a primary value in contemporary moral thinking? In the past, society was perceived as an organic body. Just as the human body is composed of organs, tissues, and cells, so human society is composed of nations, tribes, communities, and families. In an organic system, there is no equality. Each of the components has its own characteristics, its own needs, and its own roles. But it also has reciprocity, even if not symmetrical. A Jewish marriage is not based on equality, but rather on reciprocity; each partner has different duties and rights. The family thus functions as one body.

So too the nation: Different roles and privileges are allocated to Cohanim, Levites, and Israelites, as well as to Torah scholars and people of action (the tribes of Yissachar and Zevulun, respectively). The foundation upon which social morality is based in such a structure is the value of brotherhood. This explains why in most of the Torah's social commandments, "your brother," "your fellow," and "your neighbor" appear in various inflections. And thus cries out the last of the prophets: "Have we not all one father? Has not one God created us?" (Malachi 2,10).

The modern world dismantled society into isolated individuals, each fighting for his own rights and collapsing the value of brotherhood. Each person derived his sense of worth from his own achievements and status, leading of course to constant competition and friction. The absolute importance of "equality" was then introduced. But since full equality cannot be realized in any society, we must acknowledge that this new system simply does not work. Focusing on equality generates an endless discourse of envy.

However, in the organic perception presented by the Torah of Israel, we derive our sense of worth from two concepts: belonging and meaning. This leads to a deep commitment of every person toward his fellow, as well as joy in the happiness of others - and certainly in that of the community - when they succeed. The individualistic, equality approach deepens competition, while the organic approach deepens cooperation between them.

And thus taught our saintly Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook: "G-d's created world is full of distinctions, and one must not ignore this or blur them. However, differentiation is not separation; division leads to wars, while distinctions lead to cooperation and harmony."

This was the critical mistake made by Korach. He understood correctly that "the entire congregation is holy" (16,3), but he abandoned the organic conception of the nation, in which "each person according to his camp" (1,52); each individual serves the community in a different role, with mutual respect and appreciation. Korach adapted the individualistic approach, and thus led the rebellion against Moshe and Aharon. And because he left the discourse of brotherhood and adopted instead that of jealousy, he was swallowed up in the earth and became an eternal symbol of divisiveness.

Beha'alotkha: Four Approaches to Being Humble

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Beha'alotkha (Bamidbar 8-12) recounts many aspects of Bnei Yisrael preparing to enter the Land of Israel (though their entry was ultimately delayed by 40 years). Let us focus on just one verse:

 “And the man Moshe was very humble - more than any man on the face of the earth” (12,3).

The Rambam famously writes (Laws of Character Traits, Chapter 2) that we must always strive to take the middle path in our behavior. For instance, we must not be too frugal, nor too stingy; we must not be too sensitive, nor may we be like a stone with no feelings; etc.

However, he adds, “There are character traits in which one is not permitted to take the middle path, but must rather distance himself to the extreme – such as arrogance. It is not enough to merely be humble; one must be very lowly in spirit… and therefore it is said about Moshe Rabbeinu that he was ‘very humble.’”

Similarly, in the prayer Elokai Netzor, immediately following our quiet Shmoneh Esreh prayer thrice a day, we say: “May my soul be like dust to everyone.”

The simple understanding of these words does not provide very much information as to what exactly is required of us, in terms of how to behave with humility in practical life. Let us therefore simply highlight certain perspectives on this fundamental trait.

1. The Da’at Sofrim, Rabbi Chaim Dov Rabinowitz (d. 2001) explains in his well-accepted commentary on the Tanakh what the trait of anavah, humility, truly is, and how Moshe Rabbeinu acquired it. Perhaps we can sum up his approach by saying that we are meant to understand intellectually what Moshe experienced and felt, and wage our lives accordingly. Rabbi Rabinowitz writes:

“Humility is the feeling of smallness in relation to the greatness and eternity of G-d, in the light of which, all of man’s most important matters are totally insignificant and transient, and there is simply no point in boasting about them.”

And how did Moshe reach this level? Let us not forget that he spent 40 days, twice or three times, in the upper worlds themselves, receiving the Torah from G-d.  The Daat Sofrim therefore writes that Moshe "recognized the higher worlds more than any other person on the face of the earth, and knew the insignificance of this-worldly matters compared to the eternal worlds."

This might be meant to teach that although we may not be able to truly reach this experiential level - as the Torah appears to emphasize in saying that Moshe was more humble than any person "on the face of the earth" - still, the very intellectual understanding of this idea can guide and moderate our behavior in interpersonal matters.

2. Taking a different approach, HaRav Kook, of saintly blessed memory - the first Chief Rabbi of the 20^th-century Land of Israel - quotes in his work Midot HaR’ayah the words of Rashi to B'reshit 22,1. The Torah there tells us that G-d called to our Patriarch Abraham in order to command him to bind and sacrifice his son, and Avraham responds with one word: Hineni, 'Here I am.' Rashi writes that this word represents humbleness and readiness, and Rav Kook offers these few words of explanation: "For the humble person is also quick and eager."

That is to say, Rav Kook views humbleness as the trait of being open to forego his own needs and answer the call of others – quickly, without looking for excuses, without the instinctive thought that 'I am too busy or too important to do what I am being asked to do.' One who is always ready to take on a task is truly humble. [Rav Kook also has many other valuable insights into this trait, such as: "When anavah leads to sadness, it is not acceptable;" see Midot HaR’ayah, pages 140-142.]

3. The Talmud (Sotah 5a) states: “R. Ḥiyya bar Ashi said in the name of Rav: A Torah scholar must have one-eighth of one-eighth of pride.” This can possibly be connected in an unlikely manner to chametz on Pesach! That is, there is a question as to whether it is permitted to drink tap water on Pesach, given that it invariably comes from the Kineret, where chametz is always found – and chametz on Pesach is so greatly forbidden that even a mixture of water and the absolutely tiniest amount of chametz is also forbidden. However, one reason that it is in fact permitted is because the chametz proportion in question can never lead to an actual perceptible "taste" of chametz. Perhaps this can be stated as follows: Although chametz is forbidden even in the absolute smallest amount, it must still be an amount!

Similarly regarding arrogance: In order to function in the world and not be ignored or disregarded, a Torah scholar cannot be totally and absolutely humble, but must rather have the slightest measure of pride and forcefulness, even if only "an eighth of an eighth."

4. And yet another approach is taken by many rabbis, who explain that true humility does not mean that one should negate himself, his character, and/or his accomplishments. He must rather have a true appreciation of who he is in terms of both his good and less-good qualities, and understand where his good qualities stem from. As such, one who thinks, "G-d has given me such-and-such good qualities, with which I strive to do good, and I also have other negative qualities which I must work to improve," is truly humble.

We have thus seen four approaches regarding how to be humble: understanding and internalizing what Moshe grasped; being quick to answer a call to action; retaining a jot of forcefulness; and truly understanding one's place and qualities. But all agree that arrogance, the pursuit of honor for its own sake, and lack of consideration for others, are despicable traits. The Talmud states that one who has the trait of arrogance "is as one who has repudiated the principles of our faith," and G-d says about him, "He and I cannot live together in this world."

"The man Moshe was very humble, more than any other person on the face of the earth." Let us humbly learn from Moshe our teacher, Moshe Rabbeinu.

Bamidbar: Weighing Unity Against Idol-Worship

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah reading, which opens the Book of Bamidbar (Numbers), describes the desert encampment of Bnei Yisrael around the Tabernacle – four tribes in each direction, with four groups of Levites in the middle, and the Tabernacle in the absolute center (see Bamidbar 2,2). The Torah states that they had flags and otot for each tribe. The word otot often refer to "signs," and in fact Rashi explains that the flag of each tribe served to identify it, as it was colored with the color of the tribe's unique stone of the Priestly breastplate.

However, the Ben Ish Chai explains otot according to its other meaning: letters. That it, each three-tribe group had a flag, on each of which were 3-4 letters from the names of our Patriarchs – a total of 13 letters. Thirteen in gematriya (numerology) is the value of the word Echad, One – as it is spelled aleph(1) – chet (8) – dalet (4), totaling 13. Thus, the amount of letters on the flags signal and instruct Israel to always be united (not uniform…), for the importance of unity is so great that in its merit, Israel will be saved from its enemies and will not be exiled from their Holy Land, even if they sin in other ways.

This concept is so fundamental and critical that it is cited in many different Rabbinic writings. For instance, in Medrash B'reshit Rabba (38,6), we read:

"R. Yehuda HaNasi says, Peace is so great that even if Israel worships idols but there is peace between them, it is as if G-d says that He cannot control them because of the peace between them – as is written, "Ephraim is joined idols, let him be" (rough translation of Hoshea 4,17): G-d will not punish Ephraim/Israel even when they worship idols, because they are joined. [This Medrashic interpretation is not the verse's plain meaning, which is that when Ephraim is engaged in idol-worship, G-d will leave them to be punished by suffering the natural consequences of their sins. - HF] But when they are divided and not united, the Prophet says: "Their heart is split, they will now be faulted" (10,2). We thus see the greatness of peace and how hated is discord."

This concept is actually quite difficult to understand. Can it possibly be that disunity is worse than idol-worship?! After all, the Mishna says in Sanhedrin (8,5): "Dispersion of wicked people is good for them and for the world… Union of the wicked is bad for them and bad for the world." In short, unity among the wicked is very negative, as it helps them to sin.

Why then does the Medrash say that G-d "cannot" control or punish them when they are united, but rather shows them mercy? Isn't it true that a public, societal sin is worse than that of an individual, and is a greater desecration of His Name? So what if there is peace between them, when the peace is used to do sins?

With G-d's mercies and benevolence, I merited to find a precious gem to answer this question in the words of R. Shlomo Ephraim of Lunchitz, author of the classic Torah commentary Kli Yakar. He also asks this question, and answers as follows:

 "When there is peace among the idol-worshipers, they will certainly discuss the issues and debate whether there in fact is truth in idol-worship, or is it really a sham and a fake. When they are at peace, they discuss it carefully, listen to each other, and undoubtedly get to the bottom of the matter. They will then certainly conclude that it is truly valueless to worship anything other than G-d, the Creator of the World. For when people who are at peace with each other discuss a matter, they do so with attentiveness and willingness to learn and agree – and thus the truth is revealed.

Dispute Can be Peace
This is as our Sages stated in Pirkei Avot (5,17): "Every dispute that is for the sake of Heaven, such as that between Hillel and Shammai, will last." That is, even when they disagree, they still unite in their common goal of clarifying the truth according to their Father in Heaven – thus that even their dispute is essentially "peace" …

This is why the Medrash said that when Israel engages in idolatry but has peace among them, G-d extends His patience toward them – so that they will discuss and examine the matter, and will ultimately conclude that idolatry is false and has no value. This itself is the praise of G-d, when they come to understand of their own accord that they have inherited emptiness, as in the words of the Prophet Yeshayahu (48,9): “For My name’s sake I will defer My anger, and for My praise I will restrain it for you.”

However, when they sin and their hearts are divided from one another, they are immediately condemned – for even if they discuss and debate the matter, the truth will not emerge, since each one is interested only in refuting his fellow’s words. Even if he sees that the other is correct, he does not listen to him, because he wishes only to provoke and antagonize him.

This is why our Sages forbade having two Torah scholars who have ill will towards each other together on a court, since each one’s mind is set on contradicting the other’s words.

In this context we find a difference between the Sages of the Diaspora and those of Eretz Yisrael. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 24a), citing Zecharia 11,7, says that when the Prophet took two rods and called one "Pleasantness" and the other he called "Hitting," the first one refers to the Torah scholars of the Holy Land, who are pleasant to one another in Halakhic discussion, and the other refers to those in the Diaspora, who battle and hurt one another in such debate.

This is in accordance with the principle stated above, that our settlement in the Holy Land depends precisely on the quality of peace, for the cause of our exile to Babylonia was that the scholars there abandoned the ways of peace.

Quite clearly, a back-and-forth discussion conducted with mutual antagonism will never reveal the truth; peace and truth emerge only from respect and unity of hearts.