Tucked into a mountainside in the Shomron lives a community of about a thousand Samaritans. Their exact origin is a matter of dispute but we do know that when they were looking for a place to settle, they deliberately chose Har Gerizim for its significance. Though not very well-known to us, it’s a mountain that plays a dramatic role in this week’s parsha.
As soon as the Jews crossed over the Jordan, they were told to divide in two groups, one on Har Gerizim and one on the neighboring Har Eival. Then, in a highly orchestrated fashion, a list of curses were to be uttered, highlighting a number of immoral behaviors that the Jews were warned not to engage in, to which the people would say Amen.
It’s a puzzling ceremony, which is why many of us gloss over it. Did the Jews not already accept all the Mitzvos at Mt. Sinai? What unique lesson is being taught here?
There are many explanations, but I’d like to focus on one. Rav Ovadya Seforno says something that when I read, I had to read twice to make sure I was reading it correctly. He observes that although much of the Torah is written in the plural, the curses are directed to the individual – arur ha’ish, cursed be the man. He suggests that the individuals being cursed in this passage are not the regular Joe’s of the nation. The people being cursed are the leaders of the Jewish People. As made clear by our prophets, the worst offenders during Biblical times were the most powerful men and women of Jewish society. The function of this ceremony is this: Though we have a concept of arvus, of being responsible for one another. There are limits to this responsibility. When powerful people commit crimes, being that they are so powerful, being that they are so well-connected, G-d said, I recognize that you, the masses, may not be able to stop them, and because of that, you are not responsible. Arur ha’ish; I, says G-d, will curse the sinful leader. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.
This commentary by the Seforno is so instructive. Notice how he does not say that leadership is inherently corrupt, and should therefore be abolished (this is not Woke 1.0).
Torah Judaism is built around leaders – kings, Kohanim, prophets, judges, rabbis, parents and teachers. We need people to guide us and inspire us. But needing leaders is not the same thing as believing leaders are infallible. The ceremony at Har Eival and Har Gerizim was to convey to the Jewish People that as integral as leadership is, leaders should never be fully trusted.
About a month ago, a film was screened in California, called The Darkest Light. It tells the tragic story of the legendary musician, Shlomo Carlebach and highlights the many allegations of sexual abuse that were made against him.
I apologize if this comes as a shock to any of you, that this man, whose tunes are embedded in our davening and whose legacy looms large over all of Judaism, is also accused of engaging in horrible behavior. I know I was taken aback when I first learned about these allegations. You may or may not have noticed, our shul has not had a “Carlebach Minyan” for the past decade. Though we still sing his tunes, once I became aware, I refused to call any of our Friday night minyanim in his name.
As you can imagine, this movie has caused quite a stir.
Since 1998, when some of these allegations became public, there has been pushback. Carlebach had died four years earlier, in 1994, and therefore, had no ability to reply to the claims made against him, which is an important point to ponder. It is undoubtedly appropriate and necessary to report on any living person who is abusing others so as to prevent others from being harmed. But it is a fair question if one should be reporting on those who are deceased and can no longer do any harm. People of good faith can debate this point.
But there are arguments being raised that I believe are not debatable.
There are those who say, “But Carlebach did so much good. Do you know how many people he brought back to Judaism? How many lost souls he gave life to?”
I’d like to remind those people of what was said on Har Eival and Gerizim: “Arur ha’ish,” Great people can do terrible things. As Carlebach’s daughter has written, her father was an incredibly complex man; genuine greatness in one realm does not guarantee goodness in all realms.
There are those who say, “I knew him personally, there is no way he could have done such horrific things.”
I’d like to remind those people of what was said on Har Eival and Har Gerizim: “Arur ha’ish asher yakeh es rei’eihu basaser,” We never know what is in someone’s heart and what someone can do behind closed doors.
There are bad actors who get into jobs of authority that give them access to vulnerable people. There are also good people in such positions who become corrupt over time. There are even good people in positions of power who do not become corrupt, but allow poisonous power to get to their head. I was speaking to a rabbi from a different city this summer who told me he could not go on vacation because his congregants needed him to always be around. That may not be criminal but it is wildly unhealthy. My rebbi used to remind us constantly how the cemetery is filled with indispensable people. Any rabbi that enmeshed in their congregant’s life is not building people; he’s controlling them.
The blessings and curses at Har Eival and Gerizim remind us not to be seduced by charisma, not to be deceived by what may be some truly redeeming qualities, and to recognize that in Judaism we believe that infallibility is reserved for G-d.
How do we do this? How do we balance turning to rabbis for Halachic rulings and advice with the appropriate caution?
Three words – Trust. Your. Gut. #TYG.
This is probably one of the most important messages we need to teach children and remind ourselves, especially as Orthodox Jews.
Because on the one hand, the Torah makes demands on us; though shall, thou shall not. When it comes to Halacha, Jewish practice, our gut doesn’t really matter. I feel bad for you that the laws of Shabbos don’t resonate, I really do, but G-d said so. Our fidelity to the structure of Halacha is an exercise in obedience, submission, humility, all critical qualities in our spiritual development.
But when a rabbi makes a comment that makes us uncomfortable, when a leader does something that doesn’t feel right, or encourages us to do something that doesn’t make sense to us – Trust. Your. Gut.
And I want to be abundantly clear – That doesn’t necessarily mean that our gut is right; but it just might be right for us.
One of the critical elements of sexual abuse prevention is teaching children to trust their instincts. To be able to share with a parent that someone or something makes them uncomfortable. If something feels wrong, children need to know that they could tell someone they trust and they don’t need to prove that their discomfort is justified.
And this is why immediately after crossing the Jordan, the Jewish People gathered at Har Gerizim and Har Eival – to be taught some of the most fundamental lessons of Judaism.
They would need leaders. They would need Kohanim and judges, prophets and teachers. We still do. The Torah asks us to hold our cynicism about leadership at bay and appreciate its value.
But the Torah does not ask us to surrender our judgment to our leaders in the process.
Arur ha’ish. A person can be important and still do something terrible. A person can inspire thousands and still hurt an individual. A person can be a brilliant teacher, a gifted musician, a respected rabbi – or any other admired figure – and still be deeply flawed.
Our children need to know that. And so do we.
Trust your gut does not mean that our gut is always right. It means that when something feels wrong, we don’t silence that feeling simply because the person on the other side is powerful, charismatic, learned, or beloved. We ask. We tell. We take the discomfort seriously.
Judaism demands humility before G-d, submission to His Torah, respect for Torah leaders, but infallibility, that belongs to G-d alone.