18 Jul THE DANGERS OF PASSIVITY THREE LEVELS OF MORAL DEGENERATION: PASSIVITY, DESTRUCTION, ISOLATION

WILLPOWER
A woman is leaving
her multimillion dollar
mansion in Beverly
Hills when a poor man
approaches her and
cries, “Oh ma’am, I
haven’t eaten in three days.” To which the
woman responds: “I am so envious of you; I
wish had your will power.”
THREE PROPHETS
An intriguing Midrash states[1] that three of
the great Jewish personalities communicated
their prophesies using an identical Hebrew
term, eicha, which means “how” or “alas.”
The first one to utter this word was Moses. In
the beginning of this week’s portion, Devarim,
Moses, speaking during the last weeks of his
life, recalls how many years earlier he shared
with his people his profound sense of
frustration as the leader of Israel. “I said to
you at that time, ‘I cannot carry you alone…
How (eicha) can I carry your contentiousness,
your burdens and your quarrels if I am all by
myself?” The second was Isaiah. In the
opening chapter of Isaiah, this extraordinary
man of G-d laments the moral degeneration of
Jerusalem and its Jewish inhabitants 700
years after Moses’ death.

“How—eicha—has the faithful city become
a prostitute?” Isaiah cries.
“She was full of justice, righteousness
lodged in her, but now murderers.” The third
was Jeremiah. Jeremiah’s heart-wrenching
book of Lamentations, written 200 years after
Isaiah and depicting the bloody destruction
of Jerusalem, opens with the word “Eicha,”
alas.
“Alas—she sits in solitude! The city that
was great with people has become like a
widow.”
THREE LINKED MESSAGES
Now, it is logical to assume that the Midrash
is not making a random observation of three
people using the same term. Rather, the
Midrash is attempting to tell us that there
exists a subtle link between the three
messages of Moses, Isaiah and Jeremiah. It is
this connection that compelled the three
giants to choose the dramatic term “eicha”
for their conversations with the people of
Israel. On the surface, no link is visible.
Moses was discussing the enormous burden
of leadership; Isaiah, the ugliness of
promiscuity; and Jeremiah the tragedy of
loss. Yet, the Midrash is hinting to us that
these three messages are not only intertwined
but actually evolve one from another.

THE TRAGEDY OF SILENCE
What was Moses’ complaint? This
extraordinary human being, “Whom G-d had
known face to face[8],” was not lamenting
his stressful schedule or the lack of time for
leisure. What perturbed Moses was that he
was the only one taking ultimate responsibility
for the fate of the nation. Others were willing
to assist during their free time, but it was only
Moses who felt that the needs and struggles
of the people of Israel were his own. “How
(eicha) can I carry your contentiousness, your
burdens and your quarrels if I am all by
myself?” Moses cries. If only one person is
ready to put himself on the line in the fight for
a better world, while others just emit a sigh
and go on with their personal affairs, we are
bound to crumble. The triumph of evil does
not occur as a result of the perpetrators of evil
per se; it happens because of the many
ordinary men and women who don’t care
enough to stand up for what is right. When
ordinary people of good moral standing lose
the courage or willingness to protest injustice,
morality is dead. This is what Moses
protested: the notion that ordinary men and
women need not share equal responsibility in
mending the world, combating immorality
and transforming human society into an
abode for G-d (8*). The cry of Moses’
“How can I carry you alone” ultimately
evolved into the second stage of
degeneration, which reached its peak
during the time of Isaiah. “How has the
faithful city become a prostitute?” Isaiah
asked. “She was full of justice,
righteousness lodged in her, but now
murderers.” How indeed? Because Moses
was left alone on the front lines of the
battlefield for goodness and morality.
When multitudes of people of moral
stature do not feel an urgent responsibility
to combat the flames of hate and evil
burning in their society, a city once full of
justice becomes, instead, a haven for
murderers; a city of light turns into
darkness.
Isaiah’s call of “How has the faithful
city become a prostitute,” evolved into
the third stage of degeneration, when
Jerusalem destroyed itself, reaching the
abyss during the days of Jeremiah.
“Alas—she sits in solitude! The city that
was great with people has become like a
widow,” he lamented[9]. The three
“eicha’s” represent three levels of moral
degeneration: Passivity, destruction and
isolation.
CONTEMPORARY JEWISH
SILENCE
This painful truth was demonstrated
once again in most recent times, during
the destruction of our brothers and sisters
in Jerusalem and in the entire land of
Israel, following the signing of the Oslo
accords in 1996 and the Gaza withdrawal

in 2005. The tragedy of Oslo was twofold.
Israel withdrew from most of its own
territories, facilitating the creation of a
massive terrorist infrastructure right at its
back door. And, Israel extended incredible
tolerance toward the terrorists, allowing them
to continue their despicable work.
Following the Gaza withdrawal, leaving it
vacant of every Jew, Gaza was transformed
to Hamastan, committed to the destruction of
Israel.
Poor Gilad Shalit, kidnapped near the Gaza
border in 2006, still finds himself in captivity
by Hamas in Gaza. Yet this was not solely the

result of erroneous decisions by some self-
deceived individuals on the top of the

government—the late Yitzchak Rabin,
Shimon Peres, Yossi Sarid, Ahud Almert and
Ariel Sharon. Such a perverse perspective on
good and evil could have been fermented
only because so many decent and nice people
in Israel and abroad succumbed to the
temptation of remaining silent and politically
correct. The same is true concerning every
crisis—physical or spiritual—that faces our
people today, from mass assimilation, to
inner conflict and disharmony, to domestic
abuse, teen-age despair, and the dangers of
Anti-Semitism the world over. If we rely on
“Moses” to do all the caring for us, our future
is endangered. Every individual ought to lose
a little bit of sleep because of his or her
personal concern on how to bring redemption
to a hurting world.
“WHY DID YOU NOT FAINT”?
A moving tale[10]: Rabbi Yisroel Meir
Kagen, the saintly Chafatz Chaim (1838-
1933), once dispatched a delegation of
Jewish representatives to the Polish prime
minister in an attempt to nullify a new decree
against Jewish ritual slaughtering (shechitah).
Upon their return, they reported to the great
rabbi that their mission was a failure.
“The minister did not understand our
Yiddish, and the translator did not do a good
job conveying our message,” the delegation
reported.
“Yes, yes,” cried the Chafatz Chaim. “But
why did none of you faint?
Had one of you been genuinely affected by
the decree against Judaism as to faint, the
prime minister would have understood you
very well,” he concluded.