There’s No Chazakah When It Comes to Machloket

 It doesn't take long for many of us to form opinions about people. After enough interactions, we convince ourselves that we know exactly who someone is. We know who is generous and who is selfish. Who is easygoing and who is difficult. Who is reliable and who is not. And once those impressions become firmly established, they can be remarkably difficult to shake. Sometimes those assessments are accurate. Patterns of behavior and our experiences matter. If someone has acted a certain way for years, it is reasonable to expect that they will continue to do so. However, Parshat Korach reminds us that while Judaism recognizes patterns, it cautions us against turning them into permanent irreversible verdicts. As Korach's rebellion reached its climax, Moshe made one final attempt to reconcile and restore. The Torah tells us that he sent for Datan and Aviram, two of the instigators, hoping to engage them in dialogue. Their response was unequivocal: "We will not come" (Bamidbar 16:12). Rashi comments that Moshe's actions teach us an important principle: ein machzikin b'machloket”, we should not perpetuate conflict. Even when a dispute appears hopeless, one should make every effort to pursue peace. The Chasam Sofer suggests that the word machzikin can be understood through the halachic concept of chazakah. A chazakah is an established presumption. When something has consistently been true in the past, we assume it will continue to be true until proven otherwise. According to the Chasam Sofer, ein machzikin b'machlokes means that we must never create a chazakah of conflict. No matter how long-running ill will may be, we should never assume that discord is the permanent reality of their relationship. What makes this lesson so powerful is the identity of the people involved. This was not the first conflict for Datan and Aviram. Chazal portray them as long standing rabble rousers whose opposition to Moshe stretched back years. Time and again they challenged, complained, tried to start trouble and unrest. If any pair could be assumed to never change from their cantankerous and argumentative ways it would be Datan and Aviram.  Yet Moshe refused to make that assumption. He approaches them with the hopes of reconciliation. Moshe's efforts ultimately fail. Datan and Aviram do not reconsider. They do not accept his overture. Instead, they double down on their rebellion and ultimately suffer a tragic fate. Had they changed their minds, the lesson would have been clear: Don’t give up on people because people can change. But perhaps the Torah is teaching us here something more profound: Judaism does not require us to believe that people will change. It requires us to believe that they can change. Life teaches us that change is difficult. Yet unlike in the natural world, human beings are endowed with free will and the capacity to change. A person can reflect, mature, and choose differently tomorrow than they chose yesterday. That possibility may not always be realized. But as long as it exists, we are not allowed to dismiss another person's capacity for change. That is the meaning of ein machzikin b'machloket. We never assume we know with certainty what a person will do. We can be realistic about human behavior without losing faith in human potential. While it is true that Datan and Aviram never changed, Moshe refused to assume that they couldn't. And perhaps that is one of the Torah's most enduring lessons: never confuse a person's past performance with their future potential.

Believing Is Seeing

 Parshat Shelach begins and ends on the topic of sight. The Parsha opens with the episode of the spies. Moshe sends ten distinguished Jewish leaders to tour the Land of Israel (perhaps the first Jewish leadership mission to Israel): ַיִּשְׁלַ֤ח אֹתָם֙ משֶׁ֔ה לָת֖וּר אֶת־אֶ֣רֶץ כְּנָ֑עַן  “Moses sent them to scout the Land of Canaan.” The mandate was clear: go and see the land firsthand and report back to the people 1) the beauty/bounty of the land and 2) strategies for victory in the anticipated wars with the current inhabitants. Moshe continues: “וּרְאִיתֶ֥ם אֶת־הָאָ֖רֶץ מַה־הִ֑וא וְאֶת־הָעָם֙ הַיּשֵׁ֣ב עָלֶ֔יהָ הֶֽחָזָ֥ק הוּא֙ הֲרָפֶ֔ה הַמְעַ֥ט ה֖וּא אִם־רָֽב: “You shall see what [kind of] land it is, and the people who inhabit it; are they strong or weak? Are there few or many? The plan here is in line with the expression “seeing is believing”. Moshe’s hope was that by seeing the land, the spies would believe in the goodness of Hashem’s plan. The power of seeing something is well documented within Jewish tradition. At Har Sinai the nation saw a manifestation of God unlike anything in history. Right after the Ten Commandments, Hashem says:

אַתֶּ֣ם רְאִיתֶ֔ם כִּ֚י מִן־הַשָּׁמַ֔יִם דִּבַּ֖רְתִּי עִמָּכֶֽם: “You have seen that from the heavens I have spoken with you.”

According to the Talmud, only eyewitness testimony can be accepted by Beit Din. As to why hearsay cannot be accepted by a court, the Talmud explains: “Eino Domeh Shemiya L’Re’iya”, seeing is much better than hearing. My family and I will, please God, be going to Israel this summer. I am excited about our itinerary, and the potential it has to foster in us an enhanced Chibat HaAretz, a love for the Land of Israel, through the sites that we see. As much as we read an hear about it, nothing beats being in Israel and seeing the Land firsthand.

And yet we all know that our eyes can deceive us. Obi-Wan Kenobi was right when he told young Luke Skywalker, “Your eyes can deceive you, don’t trust them.” Neuroscience has shown that “People rely on their eyes for most tasks, yet the information provided by our visual sensing system is often distorted, unreliable and subject to illusion.”  This is what actually happened with the spies. Because of their fears/ low self-esteem/ ulterior agendas, the spies twisted what they saw into an evil report- leading to catastrophic results.

At the very end of the Parsha; we find a phrase that we read as part of the third paragraph of Shema. In it we are warned: וְלֹֽא־תָת֜וּרוּ אַֽחֲרֵ֤י לְבַבְכֶם֙ וְאַֽחֲרֵ֣י עֵֽינֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁר־אַתֶּ֥ם זֹנִ֖ים אַֽחֲרֵיהֶֽם “and you shall not wander after your hearts and after your eyes after which you are going astray.”

Rashi notes that the same word is used here and by the spies, hinting at the fact that the sin of the spies, like many other sins, occurred by allowing our eyes to deceive us.

Seeing is not always believing. However, I think the inverse is true much more often: Believing is indeed seeing. What we believe, our assumptions, perspectives and disposition, will greatly impact how we perceive people and relate to events around us. Barry Neil Kaufman in his book Happiness is a Choice tells the story of a young girl named Katie. Katie had severe disabilities, and after years of medical testing had been brought by her parents to Kaufman’s institute in a last-ditch effort for help.  Instead of discussing Katie’s history with his staff or showing them her thick file, Kaufman told the staff to make their own assessment and recommendation, basing themselves primarily on their first-hand interactions with Katie.  At the end of the day, one of the staff members was reviewing her notes with Katie’s parents. She mentioned that she had held one of Katie’s favorite puppets at arm’s length, and encouraged the child to come and get it. “She took almost five steps to reach me,” the staff member said. “She’s a real plugger.” Katie’s father leaned forward aghast and said, ‘But my daughter doesn’t walk.” ‘Oh,’ the staff member said respectfully, ‘I didn’t know…..”

While we should never judge someone until we’ve been in their shoes, it appears that this man viewed his daughter’s limitations as an unalterable fact. The father’s limited perspective became a self-fulfilling prophecy, and it did not reflect reality. Katie had the ability to walk, but her father had difficulty seeing this on his own, because he was unable to perceive that possibility. Believing profoundly impacts what we see. Let us develop the necessary attitudes that will enable us to see the good and great blessings and potential in our lives, in our community, and all around us.

The Fire-Cloud Model of Life

 In Parshat Behaalotecha we learn about the DPS that guided the Jewish People through their journey in the Midbar. Not a Global Positioning System, but a Divine Positioning System. The Torah tells us: "On the day the Mishkan was erected, the cloud covered the Mishkan... and in the evening there was over the Mishkan the appearance of fire until morning." In order to know when to travel and where to travel, Bnei Yisrael followed a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Whenever the cloud / fire moved, they moved. Whenever it rested, they camped. Interestingly, the Torah highlights this Divine Guidance System at three pivotal moments: at Yetziat Mitzrayim, at the inauguration of the Mishkan, and here in Behaalotecha as the nation embarks upon its journey toward Eretz Yisrael. The cloud and the fire accompany the Jewish People throughout their nation-building journey from Egypt to Israel. What is the significance of these two elements, fire and cloud, as the Jewish People’s navigation system? First, both clouds and fire possess a duality. On the one hand, they are life-giving. Fire provides warmth, light, and energy. Clouds provide shade and rain. Civilization could not exist without either of them. Yet both can also be destructive. Uncontrolled fires devastate communities. Torrential rains and flash floods can bring damage and loss. Utilizing these two elements to guide us through the Midbar was Hashem’s way of teaching us that growth requires the courage to confront and engage with powerful forces. Follow the cloud. Follow the fire. Learn to harness their energy and their potential for good. Yes, powerful forces can be dangerous. But that is true not only of fire and clouds. It is true of religion. It is true of business. It is true of leadership. It is true of love. Anything powerful has the potential to create and to destroy. The challenge of life is not to avoid powerful forces. Our task is to respect them, channel them, and maximize their positive impact while hedging against their destructive potential. The cloud and the fire taught Bnei Yisrael not to fear greatness, but to follow it responsibly. But there is a second lesson. You cannot touch fire because it burns. You cannot touch a cloud because it is ethereal and elusive. Fire represents passion, inspiration, and idealism. It reaches upward. It excites. It energizes. Clouds provide shade, comfort, and protection. They create a sense of security. The Jewish People had recently stood at Sinai. They had witnessed revelation. They understood the importance of fire. They knew what it meant to be inspired. But Hashem reminds them that inspiration alone is not enough. A person cannot live forever on spiritual highs. We cannot sustain passion without also feeling safe. We cannot remain inspired without also feeling loved.

Many years ago, someone approached Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook with a painful question. He had raised his son with a strong Jewish education and a committed Jewish home. Yet the son had drifted far from Judaism. He no longer observed the commandments and barely identified as a Jew. "What should I do?" the father asked. Rav Kook responded with a question of his own. "Did you love him when he was religious?" "Of course," answered the father. "Then now," Rav Kook replied, "love him even more." Rav Kook understood that fire alone is not enough. Conviction, ideals, and inspiration matter. But they can only endure when accompanied by the cloud; the experience of protection, acceptance, and unconditional love. Hashem did not guide us with fire alone. The journey to the Promised Land required the cloud alongside the fire. The same is true of our own journeys. We all need fire in our lives: passion, purpose, ambition, and spiritual aspiration. But we also need clouds: relationships that sustain us, communities that embrace us, and families that make us feel safe. The lesson of Behaalotecha is that the Divine Positioning System consists of both. Fire may inspire us to move forward, but it is the cloud that allows us to keep going. Fire can lead us, but only when it travels together with the cloud.