The Power of Anivus

Toward the end of this week’s Parsha, the Torah records a fascinating episode. Aron and Miriam have a discussion in which they seem to criticize Moshe Rabeinu in some way. This criticism angers Hashem and Miriam is punished with Tzaras for the Aveira of Lashon Harah.

This story really boggles the mind on one level, because we know that Aron was the ultimate Ohev Yisroel, an Ohev ShalomV’rodef Shalom. To think that he somehow participated in an idle discussion of Lashon Harah is itself very difficult to understand. Miriam too, from all the we know, was a true Tzadekes, and surely above base gossip.

We can only assume that the discussion between Aron and Miriam was in some way meant for a Toeles and stemmed from a real concern for their brother. The reason that they were punished, though, was that because of their higher level, precisely because of the status they held, they were held accountable to a higher degree.

The Torah seems to allude to the source Hashem’s anger with Aron and Miriam. After telling us of their conversation, the Passuk interjects: “Vihaish Moshe Anav Meod Mikol Adam Asher Al Penei HaAdama: And Moshe was a great Anav, more so than any other person who lived.” After noting this fact, the Passuk continues with Hashem’s harsh reaction to Aron and Miriam.

It would seem then, that his fact—that Moshe was such a great Anav—was itself the source of Hashem’s anger. If not, why did the Torah choose to tell us this at that point?

Rashi on the Passuk explains what an Anav is: “Shafel, V’Savlan: Low (humble) and patient” but he does not add any other commentary. There is, however, a longer explanation in a Sefer called Sefer HaPardes which was written by Rashi.

In a lengthy comment, Rashi explains that Aron and Miriam were questioning Moshe Rabeinu’ s decision to stop living with his wife. They noted that Hashem has spoken with both of them as the Passuk says: “HaRak Ach B’Moshe Diber Hashem, HaLo Gam Banu Diber: Has Hashem only spoken to Moshe? He has spoken to us as well” and they had not be commanded to separate from their spouses. This being the case, they assumed that Moshe’s decision to do so was without instruction, or even consent, from Hashem.

Hashem’s response to them, as brought by Rashi there, was: “What has Moshe ever done without my Ratzon, and why would you assume that he has done so in this case?” All this is alluded to by the word Anav.

What the Passuk seems to be saying is that Aron and Miriam should have known, based on Moshe’s quality of Anivus, that whatever he did in life was based on the Ratzon Hashem. They should have realized that although Hashem had spoken to them and had not instructed them to separate from their spouses, Moshe was different and thus required this extra level of Kedusha—and that his decision to undertake this separation was the Ratzon Hashem.

A few points can be raised with regard to this Chazal, as cited by Rashi in Sefer Hapardes.

First, Moshe Rabeinu no doubt possessed a number of outstanding qualities. We cannot assume that there was any Middah that he was lacking in. If so, why should Aron and Miriam have been able to infer that his actions were based on Ratzon Hashem based solely on his Anivus?

In a related sense, it seems that Hashem is testifying, so to speak, that because Moshe was an Anav his every action must have been in the realm of Ratzon Hashem. That is, not only should Aron and Miriam recognized that Moshe’s Anivus meant that he was acting correctly, but that in some way his Anivus was the source of his being able to discern the Ratzon Hashem.

How can we understand the connection between Anivus and being able to do the Ratzon Hashem? We can certainly understand this on a very basic level. True Anivus doesn’t mean that a person thinks he is worthless—Moshe certainly knew that he was on a higher level than others—but that a person does not seek Kavod or recognition for this. He realizes his place in the world and that there is always room for him to grow, even if he has attained a level that is higher than others. If one understands this, the ability to do the Ratzon Hashem is a natural outgrowth: his willingness, even eagerness, to be Machniah himself to the Ratzon Hashem is part and parcel of his Middah of Anivus.

But the Torah here seems to be telling us that Anivus allows someone not only to act in ways that conform to the Ratzon Hashem, but to discern what the Ratzon Hashem is in a given circumstance, and act accordingly. Nowhere do we see that Moshe was commanded to separate from his wife, yet Aron and Miriam should have known that he would only have done so if it was the Ratzon Hashem.

Even when there is no explicit Tzivuy, and Anav can determine the correct course of action. Why is this?

The Medrash at the beginning of Parshas Terumah tells us that when Hashem he found it very difficult to separate from the Torah when he gave it to Klal Yisroel. He therefore asked that they prepare a Mishkan, “V’shachanti B’socham.” So that he can dwell amongst Klal Yisroel.

The Medrash gives a Mashal to a King who marries off his only daughter, and is afraid he will miss her greatly. Instead of requiring his new son in law to live near the palace, though, he asks that there always be a place for him to stay near them, so to Hashem asks us to have a place for him to live amongst us.

The Baalei Mussar point out that the word “B’socham” can be understood as “B’soch Kol Echad V’Echad.” The implication is that each of us can build a Mishkan within ourselves, and on some level, Hashem will dwell inside us. R’ Chatzkel Levenstein, in Ohr Yechezkel, writes that there is one proviso based on a Gemarah in Sotah (5.) “Kol Adam Sheyesh Bo Gasus HaRuach, Amar Hakodosh Baruch Hu: ‘Ayn Ani V’hu Yachol Lador Baolam: About one who is haughty, Hashem says: ‘He and I cannot exist in the same world’.”

Based on this Gemarah, R’ Chatzkel says that the prerequisite for Hashem to live inside a person, so to speak, is a lack of Gaiva. The more a person is able to work on his Middah of Gaiva and increase his Anava, the more likely he is to be able to welcome Hashem into his own Mishkan.

R’ Chatzkel brings a number of Mamarei Chazal that reinforce this notion: the basis to being able to welcome Hashem into one’s heart and mind is Anava.

Perhaps using this Yesod we can understand the Pessukim in this week’s Parsha.

Moshe Rabeinu was a true Anav—in fact, he was the greatest Anav ever to live—this Middah was readily apparent to all and especially to those closest to him. Aron and Miriam should have recognized than as a result of this supreme level of Anava, he would certainly have been able to welcome Hashem into the Mishkan within his heart.

We can assume that if one reaches such a level—that there is a Kiyum of “V’shachanti B’socham” within him personally—that he would be finely attuned to the Ratzon Hashem. Yes, Moshe had any number of great Middos, and he was a master of all Torah, but his ability to attain these heights was because of his Anava.

This is why the Torah chose to note Moshe’s Anivus at this point: this Anivus meant that he could only be completely focused on the Ratzon Hashem—after all Hashem dwelled within him—and that should have been the only proof that his siblings needed that his actions were correct. The Anav Mikol Adam had the ability to discern the Ratzon Hashem regardless of an actual Tzivuy.

If we work on our own Anivus, striving to reach our own potential in the shadow of Moshe Rabeinu—we too will be able to live with Hashem and his Ratzon, and make the proper decisions in our lives.