The Torah verses convey profound messages that we can insightfully extract for our daily lives. Rabbi Shay Tahan, the Rosh Kollel of Shaarei Ezra in Brooklyn, NY, graciously opens the gates to understand them.
Anyone tuning into the news today can't miss a striking phenomenon: protests against Israel and Jews are erupting worldwide, even in the US. These protests are spreading rapidly and growing increasingly violent. Meanwhile, Jews seem to be going about their business as usual, with no visible efforts to counter-protest or mitigate the escalating tensions. One can't help but wonder: why aren't the Jews taking action?
As always, the Torah holds answers to all questions, and perhaps we can draw insights from our parsha.
We are all familiar with the story at the end of our parsha (Emor) concerning the boy who was the son of Shlomit bat Divri, and his father was an Egyptian. He attempts to place his tent in the territory of the tribe of Dan, as his mother was from the tribe of Dan. However, he is rebuked by another individual who claims that he doesn't belong there because the land of Israel was divided among men, not women, and since his father wasn't Jewish, he didn't have a share in the land(פירוש רש״י) .
The rebuke was not merely a verbal reprimand but rather a deeply personal and painful insult directed at the boy's father, reminding him of the tragic incident where Moshe had killed his father(פירוש דעת זקנים) . This insult escalated into a heated argument and physical altercation between the boy and the Israelite. Eventually, a crowd intervened, apprehended the boy, and brought him to the tent of Moshe(טור) . Moshe instructed the assembly to convene a court session, which ultimately led to the verdict that the boy must vacate the disputed territory. Subsequently, the boy transgressed further by uttering curses. When Moshe sought guidance from Hashem on how to address the sinner, Hashem decreed that he should face capital punishment.
While the boy who cursed certainly committed a grave sin deserving severe punishment, the Israelite man who engaged in argument with him also bears culpability. The Kli Yakar notes that the man was a troublemaker, evidenced by his instigation of a fight and insults towards the boy. The Torah's mention of him in the same pasuk alongside the cursing boy, without even mentioning his name, underscores his unworthiness of mention due to his negative character.
The rabbis teach us that nothing positive comes from fights. Was it worth rebuking the boy in such an insulting manner and engaging in physical altercation, risking desecration of Hashem's name and potentially causing loss of Jewish souls? Couldn't he have chosen a different, more respectful and compassionate approach to reclaim the land? Imagine if he had dealt with the boy civilly, understanding his dire situation without land, and offering assistance in finding a temporary dwelling until Moshe could find a permanent solution. The Torah could have celebrated him as a great baal chesed (man of kindness) who extended help to others, showcasing a tremendous kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God's name) for eternity. Instead, he is remembered for eternity as an instigator and fighter, unwilling to compromise on what he believed belonged to him.
Moreover, why was he the only one involved in rebuking and fighting with the boy? Were there not others who shared similar sentiments? The answer to this lies in a deeper reason. When someone is not happy or content, they tend to engage in conflict with others because they perceive everything around them negatively; mirroring the negativity they feel about themselves. Conversely, someone who is content with their life tends to view things and others in a positive light.
Let's revisit the question posed at the beginning of this article: why don't Jewish people gather to counter these protests? I believe the answer is simple: Jewish people are engaged in constructive pursuits. Some are immersed in learning, seeking personal elevation, while others are busy working towards building their financial futures. Parents are occupied with the vital task of educating and raising their children. Each individual is focused on advancing their life goals.
It's interesting to note that the Columbia University protest began on the Yom Tov of Pesach, a time when the entire Jewish nation was celebrating the festival, indulging in delicious food and drinking four cups of wine. They were singing praises to Hashem and attending synagogue with their children. The Gemara(מגילה יב, ב) alludes to this phenomenon, stating that on Shabbat, when the Jewish people eat and drink, they engage in words of Torah and praises to Hashem, whereas others, when they eat and drink, often engage in conversation that is crude and unpleasant.
Anyone who observes the faces of the protesters can discern that they lack a sense of purpose; they resort to rioting, shouting, and vandalism as outlets for their aimlessnessI would argue that most of them are not antisemites; rather, they are bored individuals seeking engagement, and the 'Palestinian' cause appears to be the new trend captivating their attention. They are often uninformed about the Middle East conflict and lack familiarity with the facts; they are simply empty and confused. When confronted with such senseless behavior, engaging in counter-protests only serves to fuel their unrest and generate more headlines.
This article was written in cooperation with Shuva Israel