והפקדתי אליכם בהלה את השחפת ואת הקדחת מכלות עינים ומדיבת נפש
“I will assign over you panic, and the wasting away, and the fever, causing eyes to pine and souls to feel anguish.” (Vayikra 26:16)
One of the curses described in Bechukosai involves a progressive illness, which culminates in loss of hope for recovery. Rashi (pasuk 17) explains that shachefes, kadachas, mechalos einayim, and medivos nefesh are advancing stages of illness. At times, a person may be bedridden and infirm, but his flesh is still intact with no signs of disease. Not here, as Rashi explains, as shachefes, wasting away, consumes the flesh. At times, even a person with shachefes will not suffer so much because he is not afflicted with fever. Not in this case, points out Rashi, as the Torah then tells us about kadachas, fever. Sometimes, a person may be burning with fever, but he himself believes that he will survive. Over here, though, the Torah states that the person will also be afflicted with mechalos einayim, in which he pines to recover although he believes he will not. Yet there is one more stage, the final and severest curse of all, which is medivos nefesh, in which others feel anguish over the patient and give up on him, as well.
According to Rashi, even worse than being bedridden, wasting away, being racked with fever, and giving up hope on oneself, is having others give up hope on the patient. Shlomah HaMelech wrote in Mishlei (18:14), “Ruach ish yechalkel machaleihu — A man’s spirit will sustain him in his sickness,” teaching us that a positive disposition is critical for recovery. So why does the Torah make it seem as if what other people think and say is even more important?
The Tolna Rebbe, Rav Yitzchak Menachem Weinberg (Sichos Kodesh: Behar-Bechukosai), cites the Mishnah in Yoma (18a): On the night of Yom Kippur, the elders of the beis din would ask the Kohen Gadol to read aloud and review the pasukim in Acharei Mos, which detail the procedures of the avodah of Yom Kippur; perhaps he forgot or perhaps he never even learned the halachos. The Gemara then explains that even the best of men are prone to forgetfulness, so it stands to reason that the elders would tell the Kohen Gadol to review. But how can it be that he never even learned the halachos to begin with? After all, he is the Kohen Gadol, and the Yom Kippur avodah is a crucial portion of his job. Would we possibly appoint a person who does not have the wisdom and training in this specific area? If anything, argues the Gemara, a Kohen Gadol was expected to be greater than his brothers in strength, beauty, wisdom, and wealth. In fact, (based on Vayikra 21:10), we are taught that if he was not wealthy, it was up to the rest of the Kohanim to make him so.
So how could an unlearned person be appointed Kohen Gadol?
The Gemara explains that this occurred only during the era of the second Beis HaMikdash, when the office of kehunah gedolah was at times for sale and bought by unprincipled people who may have never learned the laws. The Gemara then gives an example of a Kohen Gadol whose position was obtained through gifts or bribes: Yehoshua ben Gamla.
Yehoshua ben Gamla is famous (Bava Basra 21a) as the one who singlehandedly saved Torah from being forgotten from the Jewish people. Seeing that there were children who had no fathers to teach them Torah, he established what became an ever-growing system of public Torah education, until each and every town boasted melamdim for students as young as six or seven years old.
Who was the true Yehoshua ben Gamla? An ignoramus who became Kohen Gadol through dubious practices, or the one who saved Torah for Klal Yisroel? Can one person be both?
The Ritva (Yoma 18a) writes that although at the time of his initial appointment he was not worthy of the position and received it only through bribery, Yehoshua ben Gamla later changed into an ish kosher who helped Klal Yisroel in the most significant of ways. (See Tosfos Yeshanim on Yevamos 61a, and Ritva on Yoma 18a for two other answers.)
How can someone go from ignorant of the basic essentials of the laws of the Kohen Gadol into the savior of Torah for all of Klal Yisroel? What was the secret of Yehoshua ben Gamla’s remarkable metamorphosis?
As mentioned above, the Kohen Gadol was supposed to be greater than his fellow Kohanim in strength, in beauty, in wisdom, and in wealth. If this was not the case in terms of wealth, they were to give him of their own resources until he was indeed wealthier than the rest of them. The Sfas Emes (Yoma 18a) suggests that this refers not only to physical wealth but also spiritual wealth. The other Kohanim were to channel their strength and their prayers toward the goal of making him the greatest of them all.
Perhaps we can also add that the Kohanim treated him with the respect befitting a Kohen Gadol, giving him encouragement and validation in his new position. And do you know what happened? He became the Kohen Gadol!
Treating Yehoshua ben Gamla as a worthy Kohen Gadol reinforced their trust in him, a trust he did not want to break. It was as if he would say to himself, “If they are giving me such honor and expecting great things from me, how can I let them down? How can I disappoint them?” Through their tefillos and tacit encouragement, he rose to the position. This same Yehoshua ben Gamla went from an ignorant person who had acquired the office via patronage to a person who created Klal Yisroel’s public school system.
He saw the power of care, concern, and encouragement, how this power changed the direction of his life. And he set out to do the same for the unlearned children in Klal Yisroel. As the Gemara says, if not for Yehoshua ben Gamla, the Torah would have been forgotten from the Jewish people.
Such is the power of encouragement. If you treat a person like a king, he will act in a dignified and royal manner. Yet if you belittle and treat a person as worthless refuse, he will think of himself as no better.
The Tolna Rebbe uses this idea to answer a question regarding the eved Ivri, the Jewish slave. Many of the laws regarding the eved Ivri are repeated in Parshas Behar, one of which is (Vayikra 25:39), “Lo sa’avod bo avodas aved — You shall not work him with slave labor.” Rashi defines this as demeaning work, which will make him look like a slave. For example, he should not be ordered to walk behind his master and carry his master’s clothes to the bathhouse, nor to put on his master’s shoes for him. According to the Sifra (Behar Ch. 7), this halachah applies only to an eved Ivri, someone sold by beis din as a slave, and not to a free person. While I can use someone in my employ to clean my restrooms or tie my shoes, work that would otherwise indicate he is a slave, I cannot demand of my actual slave to perform such demeaning work. Why does an eved receive better treatment than my regular Jewish employee?
The laws regarding an eved Ivri are the Torah’s method of rehabilitation. He was either penurious and could not support himself, or a convicted thief who was sold to make restitution for his crime. He was, in a word, a failure, and he must have thought the worst of himself. In prescribing a six-year indentureship, the Torah hoped he would gain the good habits and self-respect necessary to return to society as a productive member, and to become gainfully employed. Were he to be forced to perform demeaning work, his already negative self-image would only be reinforced: I know I’m a failure and now everyone sees that sad truth!
Just as respectful actions by fellow Kohanim can turn an ignorant Kohen into a truly worthy Kohen Gadol, the respectful treatment of a slave can help in his rehabilitation and reintroduction as a productive and worthy member of Klal Yisroel.
This also explains why the final and worst step in the progression of curses is when others give up hope for the person’s recovery. As long as one’s family and friends cheer on the sick person to pull through, their words can have a positive effect on him and his physical condition. Just as the encouraging treatment of a Yehoshua ben Gamla or an eved Ivri can have the profoundest impact on their rehabilitation, the encouragement of a family member — “You’re going to make it!” — can also, at times, lead to the sick person’s recovery and rehabilitation (as long as Hashem has not yet issued the final decree of death on the individual). Similarly, a rebbi or parent can inspire growth in his wards with reassuring words: “You are great! You can do it,” thereby bringing them to unimagined heights and achievement.
But when the reassuring words of well-wishers are no longer heard, then the final nail in the coffin of a sick person has struck its mark, and the level of medivos nefesh has arrived. When even family and friends have given up hope of recovery, the illness becomes the ultimate curse from which there is no reprieve.
Even if “the pen is mightier than the sword”, the spoken word carries even more power. Let’s use that power to make a positive impact. (R’ Avraham Bukspan, Classics and Beyond 2)
