The Gemara in one place makes an astonishing remark about eating in public. It says that somebody who eats while outside in the marketplace, walking in the street with a sandwich in his mouth, is disqualified from serving a witness. He cannot be trusted to give testimony, because he acts in an unrefined, disrespectful manner. This is actually brought down as normative halachah in the Shulhan Aruch.
We must wonder, what is so bad about eating in public? We understand that we should strive to act in a more dignified way, but why is this so grievous a sin that makes somebody unsuitable as a witness?
We will present here Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz’s answer to this question, which he offers in discussing the story of Korah and a number of other tragic stories told in the Tanach and the Talmud.
The Psychology of Korah
If we probe the psychological aspect of the story of Korah’s uprising against Moshe Rabbenu, we see something very frightening about human nature.
Yet, this was not enough for him. He wasn’t satisfied being in this distinguished group. He needed more. He went out to challenge Moshe Rabbenu and Aharon. He wasn’t content with his position of special distinction.
Perhaps even more puzzling is what happened the morning after Korah confronted Moshe and Aharon. Moshe told Korah and the 250 men who joined him that the next morning, they should all come to the Mishkan, where they, together with Aharon, would all offer ketoret (incense). The person whose offering would be accepted by Hashem, Moshe explained, would be proven to be the person chosen by Hashem to serve as kohen gadol. Incredibly, they all came the next morning with incense. This is incredible because each and every one of them knew what would happen to them if they were not worthy of being the kohen gadol. They all remembered what happened on the day of the Mishkan’s inauguration, when Aharon’s two older sons – Nadav and Avihu – brought an incense offering that they were not told to bring – they were instantly killed. These 250 men knew this. They knew that anyone who offers incense without being instructed to by Hashem risks his life. They knew that 250 people – plus Aharon – would be offering incense, and only one of all these people would survive. Who would have taken a risk like this? But they all did. And, tragically, they were all killed.
This incident becomes even more astonishing when we consider the fact that, as the commentaries explain, these were prominent, distinguished members of the nation. These were not fools. These were scholars and leaders. How could they do something so foolish?
The answer is frightening, because it is so directly relevant to each and every one of us.
Rav Shmuelevitz notes that this is also the underlying theme of the last major tragedy told in Sefer Bamidbar – the sin of the spies. Why did the spies discourage the people from entering the Land of Israel? What led them to distrust Hashem’s promise that He would lead them to victory over the land’s inhabitants? Our Sages teach us that they were righteous, well-respected figures; how could they betray G-d the way they did? The answer given by many commentaries is that the spies knew that they would lose their leadership positions after the nation entered the Land of Israel. They were afraid of losing the honor and distinction that they enjoyed in the desert – and this fear led them to the catastrophic decision to dissuade the people from entering into the land. They were great men – but the desire for honor and prestige led them to very dark and dangerous places. The tragedy of the spies stemmed from the same origin as the tragedy of Korah – the craving for honor that can lead even good people and even great people to irrational, self-destructive behavior.
Removing the Word “Lexus”
The psychology of this lust for כבוד (honor) is discussed at length in the 11th chapter of Mesilat Yesharim, the most famous book of Jewish religious ethics ever written. The Mesilat Yesharim teaches us that many people are capable of withstanding other sinful instincts, such as the desire for illicit relationships, anger and laziness. The desire for כבוד, however, is something that very, very few people are able to withstand.
He substantiates this claim through a very simple observation. The vast majority of people would prefer to live a simple life, in a simply furnished home, with enough food to sustain themselves, filling their basic needs and no more. We put in a great deal of time and work, subject ourselves to a great deal of pressure, and endure a great deal of aggravation in order to live at a higher standard, beyond our basic needs. Why do we this? Because we need to live the way other people live, and have what other people have. We could manage just fine with a small house with old, used furniture, but we need a large home with beautiful furniture because this is what’s accepted. How many times do we find ourselves saying that we need to look or make sure our house looks “presentable”? What do we mean by this? Sometimes, we use this term to refer to basic dignity. But often, we mean that we need to meet the standards of our society and community. We need to be “normal” – meaning, live the way other people do, so that we don’t feel ashamed.
Let’s think about how much pressure we put ourselves through for this goal – to earn other people’s respect. We could have a simple 9-5 job that meets our basic needs, but instead, we work long hours and are constantly trying to earn more – all because our basic needs are not enough; we need to live a lifestyle similar to that of the people around us.
Imagine a person who finally, after several years, earns enough money that he can afford to buy a Lexus. He comes to the dealer, who makes a great deal: he will reduce the cost by $100 a month if the man removes the word “Lexus” and the symbol, and instead puts on the word “Toyota” and the Toyota symbol. How many people would agree to that? My guess is that in our society, the vast majority of people would refuse. They don’t just want the car; they want everyone to see what car they have. This is what the desire for כבוד does to us. It leads us to make great sacrifices of time, money and peace of mind in order to win people’s respect and admiration. And in the case of Korah and his followers, it led them to sacrifice their lives.
Yerovam’s Tragic Mistake
Another frightening example of the disastrous effects of this desire for כבוד is the story of Yerovam, the founding king of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. During the reign of King Shlomo’s son, Rehavam, ten of the twelve tribes decided to break away from the Jewish Kingdom and establish their own kingdom, in the north, with Yerovam as its leader. The Jewish Nation remained split from that point for several centuries, until the Northern Kingdom was driven into exile and never heard from again. For the vast majority of the time when the kingdom existed, its people worshipped idols. This began right at the beginning, when Yerovam made two golden calves and placed them at either end of his kingdom – one to the north and one to the south.
How did this happen? What could have possibly led Yerovam to make golden calves – knowing full well what happened the last time Beneh Yisrael made a golden calf – and encourage his people to worship them?
The Rabbis explain that Yerovam was concerned about his honor. He knew that several times a year, the people are required to go to the Bet Ha’mikdash in Jerusalem, which was the capital of Rehavam’s kingdom. And every seven years, the people must assemble in Jerusalem and hear part of the Torah read by the king. Yerovam could not accept a situation where the people assemble in Jerusalem where Rehavam is their king. He needed to be their ruler. This insistence on establishing himself as king led to the drastic measure of making houses of idolatrous worship to replace the Bet Ha’mikdash. This is how far Yerovam went to protect his honor and ensure that it would not be undermined by the king of the competing kingdom.
But it does not end there. The Gemara tells a truly astonishing story about Yerovam and the extent of his desire for כבוד. G-d Himself appeared to him one day and urged him to repent for his grievous sins. “Repent,” G-d told him, “and I, you, and the son of Yishai will stroll together in Gan Eden.” G-d made Yerovam an offer he should not have been able to refuse – that he could have his sins completely forgiven, and he would have the great privilege of having “private time” in Gan Eden together with Hashem and David (the son of Yishai). Not only did Hashem assure him a share in Gan Eden – he would enjoy the private company, so-to-speak, of Hashem and King David.
But Yerovam wasn’t sold on the offer. He turned to Hashem and asked, מי בראש – “Who would be first?” He wanted to know whether he or King David would be walking in front as they “strolled” together with Hashem in Gan Eden. Hashem replied that King David would lead, at which point Yerovam declined the offer.
Shockingly, Yerovam refused an offer that he couldn’t refuse! Why – all because he needed to be first. He was so passionate in his lust for prestige, having grown accustomed to being king, that he could not let go of this demand, to be first, at any cost – even the cost of his eternal share in Gan Eden!
As if this weren’t enough, Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz pointed out that in presenting this offer, Hashem mentioned Yerovam’s name before David’s. In other words, His offer was that Yerovam would, in fact, be first, before King David! Hashem offered him precisely what he wanted. However, Yerovam needed to hear it clearly. Even though he knew this is what was being offered, he needed to hear it said outright. But once he asked the question, Hashem withdrew that aspect of the offer – and so Yerovam turned it down!
Hillel and the Horse
Another shocking story of כבוד is told in the Gemara about the great sage Hillel, who was renowned for his unparalleled patience, humility and respect for all people.
Hillel knew a certain man who was exceedingly wealthy but lost all his money and fell into poverty. With his generous heart, Hillel took responsibility for this man’s needs, raising charity to help him. But Hillel was not content with just providing this man with food, shelter and clothing. He knew that this man had grown accustomed to a luxurious lifestyle, and now found it very difficult to manage living as an ordinary person. Hillel pitied this fellow, and so he made a point of ensuring that every day, this man would have a large, impressive horse to ride on with a servant running in front of him. Since this was what the man was accustomed to, Hillel saw it as a need, not as a luxury, and so he did everything he could to provide it every day.
One day, however, Hillel could not find a servant to run before the horse. Left without any other option, Hillel himself was this man’s servant that day. He personally ran in front of the man as he rode the horse, for several miles.
This story is generally viewed as a demonstration of Hillel’s remarkable generosity, sensitivity, selflessness and humility. This is certainly true, but Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz noted an additional aspect of this story. This man allowed Hillel, the undisputed Rabbinic leader of his time, to be his servant, to run in front of him as a display of honor for several miles. We may reasonably assume that this man was neither evil nor insane. If he was either of these, Hillel would not have gone this far to help him. He was not a crazed man – just a normal person with a normal need for כבוד. This is a natural craving that we have.
But left unchecked, this desire can ruin a person. A famous Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot lists כבוד among the three vices that מוציאים את האדם מן העולם – “take a person out of this world” (the other two being lust and jealousy). We have already seen several startling examples of otherwise great people who ruined their lives because of this desire for honor. We need to acknowledge our natural, legitimate yearning for respect, but at the same time, never allow it to consume us to the point where we destroy our lives in the pursuit of honor.
But how is this done? How can we temper this natural instinct for honor? How do we strike this delicate balance between the unavoidable desire to be respected and admired by our peers and avoiding the grave consequences of being overconsumed by this pursuit?
Respecting Ourselves
The answer, as explained by Rav Shlomo Wolbe in Aleh Shur, is found in the seemingly strange halachah that we mentioned at the outset – that one who eats in the street is disqualified from serving as a witness.
One who walks down the street eating a hot dog does not commit any particular halachic violation, but he displays a lack of self-respect. A dignified person does not do that. A person with self-respect does not eat while walking through the street, but rather sits down at a table and eats over a plate. If we respect ourselves, if we see ourselves as dignified, admirable, noble people, then we don’t act in a crass or unbecoming manner. We carry ourselves with dignity and refinement.
This is one reason why self-respect is so vitally important in life. It does not just ensure that we act properly and avoid inappropriate conduct. It is also the way we avoid the endless pursuit of honor. Once we respect ourselves, we won’t need to work to receive respect from other people. We will then live healthy, happy and fulfilling lives, satisfied and proud of who we are regardless of whether other people treat us with honor.