Why did Moshe Rabbeinu send Pinchas instead of going himself when Hashem (ה׳) commanded him to take revenge on Midian? This shiur explores the profound distinction between revenge and punishment, and how hakaras hatov (gratitude) prevents us from 'putting someone down.'
The shiur begins with a fundamental question: when Hashem (ה׳) commanded Moshe to take revenge against Midian ("Nekom nikmas bnei Yisroel me'eis haMidyanim"), why did Moshe send Pinchas instead of going himself? The Midrash explains that Moshe couldn't act against Midian because he had grown up there - "a well you drank from, you can't throw a stone in it." But this raises deeper questions about the nature of Divine commands and human obligations. Rav Zweig explains that when Hashem gives a command, it must be understood through the lens of Torah (תורה) logic and truth. Even Divine orders are bound by Torah principles. When there's an apparent contradiction, we must find a resolution that maintains Torah integrity. Moshe understood this when he criticized the soldiers for not killing the Midianite women - though not explicitly commanded, the logic of the situation demanded it. The core insight centers on the distinction between revenge (nekamah) and punishment. Punishment targets what a person does wrong - it's therapeutic, aimed at correction or justice. Revenge, however, targets the person's very existence. It's not about what they did, but about who they are. The Midianites attacked Israel not because of any provocation, but out of pure hatred for Jewish existence. As Rashi (רש"י) explains, they involved themselves in "a fight that wasn't theirs" - they were tzar (rivals) who couldn't tolerate Jewish existence. This distinction has profound implications. When someone attacks you because of what you did to them, punishment may be appropriate. But when they attack you simply because they can't stand your existence, that justifies revenge - an act that says "just as you couldn't stand me, I can't stand you." However, hakaras hatov creates an absolute barrier to revenge. You can punish someone who helped you if they later wronged you, but you cannot engage in acts designed merely to "put them down." The Rambam (רמב"ם)'s teaching about saving life on Shabbos (שבת) illustrates this principle. He states that Torah laws are not nekamah (revenge) but rather "rachamim, chesed (חסד), v'shalom" (mercy, kindness, and peace). The mitzvos aren't God's way of keeping us down or asserting dominance - they're meant to elevate and benefit us. When life is at stake, we suspend Shabbos observance, proving that the mitzvos serve our welfare, not divine ego. The concept of "throwing a stone in the well" doesn't mean the well is actually harmed - it represents the attitude of putting something down for no constructive purpose. Hakaras hatov means you cannot engage in acts whose sole purpose is to demean or diminish someone who has benefited you, even if they've later wronged you. You can seek justice, correction, or legitimate consequences, but not mere degradation. This principle has practical applications in all relationships - with spouses, children, parents, and colleagues. It's often difficult to distinguish between legitimate correction and revenge disguised as help. The key question is: am I doing this to help them or to make myself feel better at their expense? True hakaras hatov prevents us from using others as emotional fodder for our own satisfaction. The shiur concludes with a warning about bureaucracy as a form of institutional revenge - systems designed not for efficiency but to "keep people in their place." This mirrors the danger of treating mitzvos as Divine bureaucracy rather than Divine gifts. The Torah's laws aren't meant to diminish human dignity but to enhance it, which is why life always takes precedence over ritual observance.
Rabbi Zweig challenges Freudian psychology by arguing that the basic human drive is not pleasure-seeking but rather the painful awareness of non-existence, and explains how only a relationship with God can provide the feeling of true existence and simcha.
An exploration of the deeper meaning of 'amirah' (saying) as empowering others by recognizing their uniqueness and building meaningful relationships through authentic, individualized communication.
Parshas Matos - Bamidbar 31:2
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