More Than The Superficial View

We are witnessing many events unfolding around the world without truly understanding what we are seeing. Political turmoil (which, admittedly, is nothing new), another attempted assassination of President Trump, fragile ceasefires with Iran and Hezbollah being shaken, and even Lag Ba’Omer in Meron being severely limited or canceled due to safety concerns. Alongside this are the many challenges facing the Torah world in Eretz Yisrael.

There is a lack of clarity. Everything feels confusing.

At the end of Parshat Emor, we encounter the story of the ben isha Yisraelit — the son of a Jewish woman and an Egyptian man (by force) in Mitzrayim, the very Egyptian whom Moshe killed. He was not considered fully Jewish and underwent geirut. At some point, he became upset and ultimately cursed Hashem.

Rashi brings two explanations for what triggered this.

One is that he heard about the lechem hapanim, the bread placed on the Shulchan in the Mishkan and distributed to the kohanim a week later. He mocked it: how could week-old bread be served to honor the King? That is not respectful!

The second explanation is that he wanted to pitch his tent within the encampment of Shevet Dan, the tribe of his mother. The tribe rejected him, arguing that tribal identity follows the father. They went to Moshe’s beit din, and he lost the case. Leaving the court, he cursed Hashem.

Let us point out something obvious — yet often overlooked.

This man was not a child. He was a mature adult.

He had been born in Mitzrayim after the incident involving his father. By the time Moshe returned to Mitzrayim at age eighty, after years in Kush and Midyan, this man would already have been grown. The incident likely occurred in the second year in the Midbar, after the encampments were established and the Mishkan service had begun.

He was not an impulsive youth reacting emotionally. He was a developed adult — and yet he lost control.

What should he have done?

The answer is simple — though not always easy.

Regarding the lechem hapanim, he could have asked.

Had he inquired, he would have learned that the bread miraculously remained hot and fresh throughout the week. His entire assumption was incorrect. A small amount of investigation would have revealed something extraordinary and prevented the entire episode.

Regarding his place in the camp, he could have reflected.

He was inside the Ananei HaKavod! Only klal Yisrael merited that protection. The Eirav Rav remained outside — yet he was inside. His geirut had elevated him in a profound way. True, he did not belong to a specific shevet, but he still had a place, a role, and unique strengths to contribute.

He could have learned from Yitro, whom Moshe described as “einayim” — eyes for klal Yisrael. As a geir, Yitro brought a unique perspective that strengthened the nation.

Instead, the ben isha Yisraelit saw only the surface — and misinterpreted everything.

With even a small effort to understand more deeply, he would have avoided tragedy.

At the beginning of the parsha, we find the opposite approach.

Aharon was taught the laws of tum’at meit — the restrictions on a kohen regarding contact with the dead. These are difficult concepts. Seeing a living person suddenly lifeless can be deeply unsettling. Without understanding Olam HaBa, it appears to be an end — when in truth it is a transition to something greater.

Yet Aharon accepted everything.

Just as he had accepted Moshe’s instruction not to publicly mourn after the death of his sons, he now accepted these complex halachot with clarity and depth.

Moshe transmitted Torah with chochmah — knowledge. Aharon was gifted with binah — deeper understanding. He could perceive beyond the surface.

This contrast explains why the parsha later mentions the lechem hapanim — to highlight the failure of the ben isha Yisraelit, who judged superficially rather than seeking deeper understanding.

We see this idea reflected in the story of Lag Ba’Omer as well.

The Gemara (Shabbat 33b) recounts how Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai criticized the Romans. Yehuda ben Geirim repeated these words — not with malicious intent, but without sufficient caution. The Romans heard and sought to kill Rashbi.

This was not an act of betrayal, but a failure to recognize the consequences of repeating something that should not have been shared. A moment of reflection could have changed everything.

(Indeed, Tosafot notes that Rashbi later sent his son to receive a blessing from Yehuda ben Geirim, demonstrating that he was a great individual — just one who made a critical misjudgment.)

The parshah concludes with the words: “ki ani Hashem Elokeichem.” Rashi explains that just as Hashem places His Name upon klal Yisrael, He places it upon geirim as well. When they accept Hashem, they should know that He watches over them just as He does over all of klal Yisrael.

The message is clear.

When we see events unfolding — whether in Torah or in the world around us — we must not settle for a superficial view. We must seek to understand, to investigate, and to recognize Hashem’s hashgachah guiding everything.

Today’s world is confusing. Events unfold rapidly, often without clarity.

But when we internalize that Hashem is fully in control — that there is no power besides Him — we gain perspective. Even when we do not understand, we can trust that everything is unfolding in the best possible way.

May we be zoche to see clearly, to understand deeply, and to greet Moshiach very soon.

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R’ Dovi Chaitovsky and his family have the zechut to live in Eretz Yisrael, where he dedicates himself to Torah learning and teaching in Yerushalayim Ir HaKodesh. His divrei Torah often draw from the shiurim of Rav Yisrael Altusky, shlit”a, Yeshivas Torah Ore, Yerushalayim which can be heard at www.kolhalashon.com.