Of lasting speeches and everlasting impressions

One of the most important moments before a mission, in which the right commander can make all the difference actually has very little to do with the actual mission. After all the training is done, and all the preparations are in order, the unit is ready to go, and the waiting game begins. And there is a moment, a last opportunity, for the commander to inspire his men.

I remember one winter morning in Lebanon, standing at the main gate of the base about to head out for yet another patrol. It was freezing out, and there was a light rain making everything wet and muddy. The cold seemed to penetrate everything getting under the layers into your bones. Some of the guys in this unit were supposed to have gotten a week’s pass, but leaves had been cancelled for some logistical or security reason, which left the guys even more depressed than usual.

The area we were stationed in was a hot zone, with Israeli army vehicular traffic forbidden at night, and we were setting out on what is known as a petichat tzir, with the goal of checking out the stretch of road under our command for any booby traps or ambushes that might have been laid in the night, before allowing any normal army traffic out on the highway.

Dawn had not yet broken, and we were standing in the dark about to head out, and I could tell the guys who were all exhausted were more depressed from having to get out of bed in the rain than anything else, and I realized I had to say something.

I was actually in the middle of a book by Yigal Yadin on the story of the archeological dig which rediscovered Masada, and had been reading the night before of a small piece of parchment which was discovered one morning on the eastern escarpment. It was a single psalm from Tehillim, the book of Psalms, and the general opinion was that the site of it’s discovery had been a rebel guard post, so most probably this was a page of the psalms a Jewish sentry had read for inspiration and prayer.

Two thousand years ago, a Jewish soldier had prayed with Tehillim, while looking down on the might of the Roman legions, and here we were, some of us as it turned out, with the same book of Tehillim in our breast pocket in a modern State of Israel. I told the men to think about that and we headed out on patrol.

To be honest, I had forgotten all about that little episode, until I ran into one of those soldiers at a bus station in Israel a few years ago. I didn’t even remember his name, but he remembered me, and reminded me of that moment. He was in uniform, in the middle of a stint of reserve duty, and with a smile pulled out a worn little copy of the book of Tehillim from his pocket. He told me since that moment, whenever he had found himself a little down or challenged by the events surrounding him in the army, he would recall my little speech and pull out his little Tehillim book….

Last speeches before one heads out are certainly important and they can make an everlasting impression. This Shabbat, we will read the portion of Devarim, which always falls on the Shabbat before Tisha B’Av. It begins the final book of the Torah which is set against the backdrop of Moshe’s farewell soliloquy to the Jewish people, on the banks of the Jordan river.

So what do you say when this is the last opportunity to teach the second generation of Jews who were embarking on the remainder of their journey?

Moshe in fact actually uses his last speech to give the people Tochacha, words of chastisement, in other words, he is telling the Jewish people off!

Why? Maimonides makes a fascinating point:

“If one sees his friend erring (transgressing) or pursuing a path which is not good, it is a mitzvah to return him to goodness and to let him know (Le’Hodioh’)that he is transgressing against himself with his wicked ways…”(Maimonides De’ot 6:7)

Incredibly, the motivation for telling someone else off is love. If it is all about me, and what he has done to me, then there really is no point to it all. The question here really is, do I care so much about my fellow human being that I can’t bear to see them doing something that will result in them hurting themselves.

If I am a guest at a dinner party, and some stranger is behaving rudely, say, speaking with his mouth open, I can’t imagine I would say anything. But if that were one of my children, I would absolutely tell them, and would view it as part of my responsibility to share with them what was missing or lacking in their behavior. And this is precisely because I love them so much, and want them to grow to be all that they can be.

Moshe is expressing to the next generation how much he really cares about them.

And maybe this is why we read this portion just prior to the fast of Tisha’ B’Av, when the Talmud tells us the Temple was destroyed due to baseless hatred. Maimonides points out that not giving Tochachah can actually lead to hatred, and sometimes telling a person off for what he has done wrong clears the air and allows for rebuilding.

May we really care about each other, so that soon, instead of mourning what was lost, we may rejoice in what has been rebuilt.

Wishing you all comfort on Tisha Be’Av, and Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem.

Rav Binny Freedman, Rosh Yeshivat Orayta in Jerusalem’s Old City is a Company Commander in the IDF reserves, and lives in Efrat with his wife Doreet and their four children. His  weekly Internet ‘Parsha Bytes’ can be found at www.orayta.org