02 Sep COLDPLAY, THE US OPEN & BEING CAUGHT ON CAMERA: SPIRITUAL LESSONS OF A SURVEILLANCE WORLD

Each year, our shul
coordinates a men’s
Mevakshim trip to
New York to meet
diverse Roshei Yeshiva,
Rabbanim, and
community leaders—to listen, learn,
challenge, and grow. Before each interaction,
I ask for permission to record the conversation.
Some say absolutely, others are more hesitant,
and many say it’s okay but only for the group
and not for public distribution.
When we sat down at ArtScroll headquarters
with my friend, Rabbi Gedaliah Zlotowitz, I
asked for permission to record. He not only
allowed it, but he also used the question as an
opportunity to tell a story he heard from his
father and to transmit an important message.
Each summer, the Zlotowitz family would go
on a trip with the Feinsteins. One summer,
they went to Niagara Falls. As is customary
and necessary, on the Maid of the Mist boat
tour, the Rosh Yeshiva, Rav Dovid zt”l, was
wearing a poncho and hood to stay dry. Given
his attire, Rav Meir Zlotowitz z”l asked the
Rosh Yeshiva if it was okay to take a picture
together.

The Rosh Yeshiva said it was fine and went
on to explain: “I don’t do anything in my life
that, if someone took a picture, I would be
embarrassed. If you wouldn’t want a picture
taken of it, don’t do it.” He added, “And I
don’t say anything that would get me in
trouble if it got out. If you wouldn’t want it
to get out, don’t say it.”
Long before the advent and ubiquity of
technology, our rabbis cautioned:
ִהְִסְַּתֵּּכּל ִּבְּׁשׁל ָׁׁשה ְְד ָָבִרִים ְו ְִאִי ַא ּ ַָּתה ָבָא ִלִיֵדֵי ֲעֲֵבֵָרָה,
ַּּדע ַמַה ְּלַּמְַעְָלָה ִמ ּ ְִּמָך, ַעִַיִן רֹוָאָה ְו ְֹאֶֹזֶן ׁשֹוַמַַעַת, ְו ְָכָל
ׂ ַמֲַעֲֶׂשיָך ַב ּ ֵַּסֶפֶר ִנְִכְָּתִּבִין
Be mindful of three things and you will not
come to sin: Know what there is above
you—an eye that sees, an ear that hears, and
all your deeds are recorded.
For all of history, our ancestors had to
imagine what it meant for everything you
say and do to be recorded. Our generation
needs no imagination. We live in a time in
which, whether we give permission or not,
we are being recorded. In the aisles of the
supermarket, at the airport, everywhere we
go—even just stepping outside—cameras
are tracking our every move. Our emails,
texts, and phone calls are not truly private or

confidential. Our online activity and
browsing are never fully anonymous or
incognito.
If the Rosh Yeshiva’s message was true
before this reality, it is all the more true now.
If you wouldn’t want a picture taken of what
you are doing, don’t do it. If you wouldn’t
want what you are saying to be made public,
don’t say it.
Last week at the US Open in New York, after
a five-set thriller, Polish tennis pro Kamil
Majchrzak had the best victory of his life.
Before leaving the court, he walked toward
the stands to interact with fans. Noticing a
boy waving, he took off his hat, signed it,
and went to give it to him. But before the boy
could take it, a man grabbed the hat, stuffed
it into his wife’s bag, and walked away—
leaving the boy heartbroken.
The internet went to work identifying the
man as a Polish tycoon and successful CEO,
then proceeded to publicly shame him for his
deplorable behavior. Despite going viral,
rather than apologizing, he doubled down
and issued a statement: “Yes, I took it. Yes, I
did it quickly. But as I’ve always said, life is
first come, first served… If you were faster,
you would have it… I remind you that
insulting a public figure is subject to legal
liability. All offensive comments, slander,
and insinuations will be analyzed for the
possibility of taking the matter to court.”
In July, at a Coldplay concert, the CEO and
Head of HR of a technology company
learned the lesson of “an eye sees, an ear
hears, and all our actions are recorded” the
hard way. Their relationship, caught on
camera, went viral and cost them their
jobs—and his marriage.
These very public stories, among others,
should not only shock or amuse us. The
awareness that what we do is seen and
recorded—down here and Above—should
also sober us.
But, the knowledge that what we do
matters doesn’t only have to scare us; it
can and should also motivate and inspire
us.
In 2007, an employee of a New Jersey
Dunkin’ Donuts named Dustin Hoffmann
(not the actor) made news when the store
was nearly robbed by a serial thief who
jumped on the counter, grabbing cash from
the register. The twenty-something
Hoffmann fought back. Grabbing the
man’s arm with one hand and a large coffee
mug with the other, he repeatedly smashed
the crook’s head with the mug and
successfully thwarted the crime.
When later asked about the incident,
Hoffmann said that what galvanized him

into action was YouTube: “What was going
through my mind at that point,” he said, “was
that the security tape is either going to show
me run away and hide in the office, or whack
this guy in the head. So I just grabbed the cup
and clocked the guy pretty hard!” He then
added, “There are only a few videos like that
on YouTube now, so mine’s going to be the
best. That’ll teach this guy!”
The Midrash on Ruth teaches:
The Torah teaches us Derech Eretz—that
when a person does a mitzvah, he should do
it with a happy heart. For if Reuven had
known that God would write about him,
“And Reuven heard and saved him (Yosef)
from their hands,” he would have brought
Yosef back to his father on his shoulders. If
Aharon had known that God would write
about him, “Behold, he will come out
towards you and be happy in his heart,” he
would have come out with drums and
musical instruments to greet Moshe. If Boaz
had known that God would write about him,
“And he picked for her roasted corn,” he
would have served her fatted calves.
Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky zt”l explains that
the Midrash doesn’t mean to imply that the
prospect of going viral would have changed
their behavior. It wasn’t ego that was the
issue—it was the opposite: their extreme
humility. These great men thought of
themselves as small, insignificant
personalities on the great world stage. They
saw their behaviors as small acts of kindness,
no big deal, not worth noticing, and certainly
not worthy of recording. They failed to
recognize the cosmic impact and lasting
influence our small deeds can have, and how
they are documented for posterity.
We correctly think of Elul, Rosh Hashanah,
and Yom Kippur as days of judgment—a
time to recognize that all of the mistakes we
have made have been recorded and we are
accountable for them. But it is also a time to
remember and focus on the fact that our good
decisions, kind deeds, and positive moments
matter. We aren’t small or insignificant.
An eye sees, an ear hears, and all of our
actions are recorded. Don’t do anything you
wouldn’t want recorded. But also know that
our best moments and deeds are going viral
right now in Heaven. Keep them coming.