The Hypocrisy Within: A Warning From the Kli Yakar on Parashat Shemini

In Parashat Shemini, the Torah outlines the laws of kosher and non-kosher animals. Among them, we are told that the camel, although it chews its cud, is not kosher because it does not have split hoofs (Vayikra 11:4). The Torah similarly disqualifies the hyrax, hare, and pig for having only one sign of kosher status. This raises a powerful question: If these animals are ultimately not kosher due to lacking both required signs, why does the Torah draw attention to the one sign they do possess?

The Kli Yakar offers a striking explanation. When something is inherently impure, a mark of purity is not just irrelevant—it actually compounds its impurity. The presence of an external sign of kashrut, when the internal reality doesn’t match, becomes a flaw in and of itself. Hypocrisy—presenting oneself as righteous while concealing moral decay—is a deep spiritual offense.

King Yannai articulated this principle in Sotah 22b: “Do not be afraid of the Perushim (the righteous scholars) or of those who are not Perushim, but fear the Tzvuim (the hypocrites)—those whose external appearance does not reflect their inner reality. They act like Zimri and demand the reward of Pinchas.”

This insight hits close to home. There are individuals who, in public—at work, in social circles, or in Beit Knesset—appear exceptionally righteous. They exhibit patience, humility, and compassion. They are praised for their virtue. Yet behind closed doors, particularly at home, they may display the opposite traits: bitterness, anger, cruelty, and inconsideration. In Hashem’s eyes, this inconsistency is not only deceptive—it is spiritually defiling.

The Me’am Loez brings a compelling story to illustrate this point.

A wealthy elderly man, shortly before his death, called his only son and said: “I leave you great wealth that will sustain you for life. But remember one thing: beware of hypocrites. When someone’s outward chasidut seems extreme or unnatural, be suspicious—such a person is often hiding deep evil.”

After the father’s passing, the son married a beautiful orphan who appeared exceedingly modest. Several years into the marriage, he invited his wife to travel with him. She declined, saying she preferred not to see or be seen by others, lest it lead to improper thoughts. Her response triggered the son’s memory of his father’s warning.

He decided to test her. Pretending to leave on a business trip, he locked all the doors and gave her one key, while secretly keeping a second key for himself. That night, under cover of darkness, he returned to the house—and discovered his wife being unfaithful (Hashem yishmor). In a shocking betrayal, she instructed the non-Jewish man she was with to murder her husband. The man managed to escape and collapsed by the side of the road, exhausted.

That same night, a thief broke into the royal treasury and stole gold and silver. In the morning, the king’s guards discovered the sleeping man by the road and, assuming he was the thief, arrested him. He was swiftly tried and sentenced to death by hanging.

As he was marched through the city, a royal priest accompanied him. The priest’s behavior was strange—he walked with excessive piety, even warning the executioner to avoid stepping on worms so as not to harm any of G-d’s creatures. This exaggerated display of righteousness triggered the man’s suspicions.

He immediately requested to be brought before the king, claiming he wished to confess. This was considered a great honor, and he was granted an audience. Standing before the king, he declared, “Your Majesty, I confess—it was I and your priest who stole the treasure from your treasury.” The king ordered an investigation, and indeed, the treasure was found in the priest’s home.

The king asked in astonishment, “What connection do you have to this priest?” The man replied, “None.” He then shared the entire story—from his father’s advice, to his wife’s betrayal, to the priest’s suspicious behavior. The king, recognizing the truth, exonerated the man and ordered the execution of the guilty parties: the priest, the wife, and her accomplice.

This story teaches a powerful lesson. Hashem values chasidut, but only when it stems from genuine yir’at Shamayim—a true awe and fear of Heaven. Piety used as a mask for corruption, to impress others or curry favor, is not only empty—it is repugnant. Let us strive to be internally as we appear externally, consistent in our service of Hashem in both public and private life.

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Rabbi Leeor Dahan, a graduate of Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim/RSA, is a noted scholar and teacher, well-versed in halachah. He currently leads Kehilat Avodat Hashem in Hillcrest, Queens, inspiring his congregation to delve into Torah study and embrace its eternal teachings.