08 Aug ON INFLUENCERS’ INFLUENCE

Yellowstone National
Park, which is larger
than the states of Rhode
Island and Delaware
combined, contains its
own Grand Canyon,
considered by many to
be the most breathtaking sight inside the park.
The canyon is 20 miles long, up to 4,000 feet
wide and has a 1,200-foot drop. On our recent
trip to Wyoming with the amazing Rustic
Elegance, we visited the platform from which
you can see the beauty and splendor of G-d’s
magnificent artwork.[1]
Almost everyone else present, ourselves
included, stayed behind the low wall at the edge
of the platform, protecting us from inadvertently
falling and plummeting to a certain death. As
we were admiring the remarkable scene, we
suddenly saw a young man and woman stepping
over the wall and somewhat carelessly climbing
towards the very edge of the cliff. I couldn’t
understand, why in the world would they be
risking their lives? Was the view that much
better a few feet over?
When they reached the very edge, turned
around and one of them pulled something out of
her backpack, I understood. With the wind
blowing and loose gravel beneath their feet,
inches from slipping and falling to a gruesome
demise, the girl extended her selfie stick and the

two of them posed for a picture. Though the
scenery was among the most beautiful on the
planet, all of us couldn’t take our eyes off these
two individuals to see what would happen. (I
have since learned they are among a special
breed called Tourons of Yellowstone—
“Touron” being a portmanteau of “tourist” and
moron”—and there are websites filled with
pictures and videos of such individuals engaged
in foolish and dangerous behavior.)
We left before they climbed to safety, so I
don’t know their fate. But, just this month, a
32-year-old woman from Hong Kong died
while trying to take a selfie at the edge of a cliff.
Every headline that reported on her death
described her as an “influencer.” She, like the
aspiring influencers at Yellowstone, was
compelled to capture the perfect picture at the
perfect angle, but it came at the expense of her
life.
Though the word influencer has been used in
English since the mid-1600s, it has more
recently taken on a new meaning. Though the
term can apply to a wide variety of people,
influencers essentially are people who engage
their large social media followings by sharing
experiences, knowledge and advice. Influencers
get paid for featuring or endorsing products,
with some making as much as $1 million for a
post. Indeed, influencer marketing is predicted
to be worth $10 billion by 2022.

This term has now made its way into the
Jewish vernacular, including the orthodox
community. Websites list the top Jewish
influencers and Jewish organizations discuss
which influencers might be worth engaging in
order to spark change. Social media platforms,

most notably Instagram, are filled with Torah-
observant young men and women trying to

build their followings as they share and promote
Jewish products and lifestyle advice. Those
with a substantial audience are often treated
like Jewish celebrities.
There are some wonderful things that have
resulted from this phenomenon including the
sharing of Torah ideas and inspiration,
spreading modest fashion trends, promoting
kosher recipes, and more. For some, it is a new
way to leverage their skill set into a source of
honest income. We have also seen the ability of
influencers to effect meaningful change in the
community: for example, a group of Jewish
influencers recently had an enormous impact in
bringing attention to the Agunah issue and
helping coordinate social pressure that resulted
in several men finally giving their wives the get
they deserve.
With all the positives, however, I am
concerned about potential unintended
consequences that come from fully accepting
and embracing what we see online at face value
and from craving to find “influence” primarily
in that way.
The Hebrew word for influence is
hashpa’ah and those who influence others
are mashpi’im. In Judaism, influence is not
determined by social media status, it
emanates and flows from being authentic,
practicing what one preaches, serving as a
role model and example of our values.
While we have all been impacted by things
we have read or seen online, our greatest
influences have been offline: the personal
interactions, relationships, explicit and
implicit teachings and lessons that have
been shared with us.
The biggest Torah influencers never saw
their identity defined by how many
followers they had. They never set out to
earn that title and likely wouldn’t be proud
to be ascribed it. In 1975, the New York
Times observed Rav Moshe Feinstein
explaining to students how he got the
position of Posek and “Giant of the
Generation.” Typical of his modesty and
humility, he told them, “You don’t wake up
in the morning and decide you’re an expert
on answers. If people see that one answer
is good and another answer is good,
gradually you will be accepted.”
Rav Soloveitchik ordained more rabbis
than anyone in his time and most any other.
And yet, he often referred to himself not as
an influencer, but as “a posheter melamed,”
a simple teacher of Torah. A documentary
was just released on the life of Rav
Avraham Pam. When he was recruited to
sit on the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah, the
Agudah’s board of Judaism’s “greatest

influencers,” he resisted, refused and ultimately
only gave in because of respect for Rav Yaakov
Kaminetsky. When the sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe
passed away, leaving the position of “chief
Chabad influencer” open, it took an entire year
for the last Rebbe, Rav Menachem Mendel
Schneerson, to be convinced to accept the
position. The only influence he wanted was to
inspire generations who would selflessly and
positively influence all with whom they came in
contact.
The greatest, longest-lasting influence on the
laws that govern how we daven was not
someone with a public following. The Talmud
(Berachos 31a) tells us that our davening is
modeled after Chana, who in the privacy of the
Mishkan, with what she thought was nobody
watching, poured out her heart to Hashem. She
didn’t have a social media handle, but she had a
handle on life and her influence is felt every
single day, three times a day across the world.
I wholeheartedly believe in harnessing the
power and reach of technology to share Torah,
build connections, and add value to one
another’s life. I admire and applaud those who
have done so and have earned a large following
who seek to grow and gain, consistent with a
Torah way of life.
Many “influencers” have a carefully crafted
and curated profile and presence online but, by
design, we know little about how it conforms to
their life and impact offline. I am not G-d-forbid
trying to suggest that all influencers are
categorically bad people or deliberately
showing one side to the world and hiding
another. Rather, we must remember that if we
aspire to have a genuine influence and
meaningful impact in this world, we should
start with who we want to be, how we want to
live, and what difference we want to make
offline. Our effort to influence strangers online
should never come at the expense of spending
time with, being fully present for, and impacting
loved ones offline. Falling off a cliff is not the
only way to lose your life in the pursuit of fame
and influence.
The word hashpa’ah, influence, comes from
shefa, which means that which flows from the
Divine. We can enjoy the entertainment and
infomercials available on social media, but
when aspiring to channel the shefa from Above,
remember that the greatest influencers in our
illustrious history made their difference without
ever looking at or caring how viral they had
gone. Don’t sacrifice your life in pursuit of
becoming an influencer, live your life to its
fullest and you may just have an impact on
others.
[1] Indeed, the Gemara (Berachos 10b) quotes
the pasuk כאלוקינו צייר אין“ ” , there is no rock
like our G-d, and tells us to creatively read it as
כאלוקינו צייר אין , there is no artist like Hashem.