Welcome to the daily chizuk (encouragement). A person who sacrifices for Hashem will only gain. Many times, the very thing you think you are losing, you are actually gaining on an even higher dimension. In the parasha, we read about Pinhas, who put his life on the line to follow the halakha (Jewish law) and kill Zimri. He was rewarded with eternal rights to the kehuna (priesthood). The Mefarshim (commentators) were bothered: Wasn't Pinhas already a kohen (priest), being the grandson of Aharon? The Sefat Emet, quoting the Zohar, says, “A kohen who murders loses his status and rights to the kehuna.” Therefore, Pinhas lost the kehuna, and Hashem was giving it back to him. It turns out that when Pinhas performed this mitzvah (commandment), he thought he was sacrificing his life and the kehuna. But in reality, Hashem gave him eternal life, because Pinhas is also Eliyahu Hanavi. Hashem gave him the special gift of kehuna for him and his descendants forever. You can never lose by working for Hashem.
I heard a story from Rabbi Fischel Schachter about the author of Mesillat Yesharim, Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzatto. He said the rabbi lived a life marred by controversy. He was almost put in cherem (excommunication). He was accused of being part of the Shabtai Tzvi organization. He had a lot of opposition. One day, as he was walking in his hometown of Padova in Italy, he took a wrong turn down a street in an area that was not so nice. But he noticed a Jew he knew was about to walk into a terrible, terrible place and commit a terrible avon (sin). He couldn't believe it. He ran over to him and said, “How could you go in here? Don't you know Hashem is watching?”
The man said, “Rabbi, leave me alone. I'm already too far gone. It doesn't matter.” So the rabbi said, “Yeah, but what if someone catches you and tells other people? It'll be an embarrassment to your wife and your children. You'll lose your job. You won't be able to show your face in public. Your children will have trouble getting married.” He said, “Rabbi, you're too late. I was already caught here. The word got out. The board of directors said something about my children coming back to school. The rabbi of my shul (synagogue) said I'm not invited back to shul. The parlor meeting that was scheduled in my house for next month was canceled. My wife is suing for divorce, and my children disown me. So my life is already ruined.”
The rabbi said, “Wait a minute. I think I have a solution, and you could undo everything. Not only will you not be considered a Rasha (wicked person), but you'll be considered the town hero.” He said, “You could tell everybody that you only came here because you thought I would be here and you wanted to catch me. There's a lot of people against me, and they'll be so happy to catch me. You'll be a hero.” The man said, “Rabbi, you would do that for me? But everyone's going to consider you a Rasha.” He said, “If that's the only way I can stop you from destroying your life, I'm prepared to do it.”
But the man said, “What about your writings, especially Mesillat Yesharim? No one's going to read them.” The rabbi thought about it and said, “If I'm worth what I wrote and I'm real, I have to be willing to sacrifice myself for another Jew. And if the book needs to be read, Hashem will take care of it.” And they went through with it. The man came into the shul. Everybody started yelling, “Get out of here, get out of here!” He said, “No, no, no, you don't understand. I caught the rabbi. I was only going there undercover.” They investigated. The rabbi admitted, and the man became a hero. They all said, “We were right. We knew the rabbi was an imposter.”
The rabbis there got together and said, “What a hero, Hashem. This is the person who writes Sefarim and dabbles in Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism). And now he does this. He should be publicly whipped.” This was something the Beit Din (Jewish court) in Italy was able to do. The day came for the whipping. The rabbi said, “I'm guilty. I'm willing to take my punishment.” Right before the first whip, someone from the crowd yelled out, “No, no, stop. I can't take it.” The rabbi said, “No, no, no, don't take it.” The man said, “I can't watch someone get whipped because of me.” He told them the whole story.
This was the turning point of the rabbi's life. Many of his opposers were quieted forever. They said, “If a person is willing to do this for another Jew, he must be real.” It turned out that this very crossroad, which could have lost him his name forever, was actually what gained him his acceptance. Shabbat Shalom.