“You shall not desecrate My holy Name…” (Vayikra 22:32)
In discussing the desecration of Hashem’s Name, the Rambam (Hilchos Yesodei HaTorah 5:11) elaborates on the broad range of deeds that are included in this category. He notes that if a prominent Torah scholar, renowned for his piety, does the likes of one of these enumerated deeds that will cause others to speak of him unfavorably, he has desecrated the name of Hashem.
The Rambam lists, for example, buying an item and not paying for it immediately, not conducting oneself in a refined manner, being argumentative, and failing to greet others with a pleasant countenance. Based on one’s Torah stature in the community, says the Rambam, the individual must conduct himself beyond the measure of the law.
The Talmud (Yuma 86a) cites Rav, who stated that, since he was an important public figure, if he would not pay the butcher immediately for the meat he took, people would think he had no intention to pay at all, and derive that one is permitted to steal.
The Talmud (Moed Katan 12b) also tells of R’ Yannai, who harvested the fruits in his orchard on Chol HaMoed when he saw that the fruit would otherwise rot. The following year, the people recalled this incident and, despite the lack of any dispensation to do so, they postponed harvesting their fruit until Chol HaMoed, even though it could have been done before the holiday. Troubled by this turn of events, R’ Yannai declared his entire orchard ownerless because of the lapse that had ensued as a result of his actions.
The kuntrus, Bein Ish L’rei’eihu discusses a comment of Rabbeinu Chananel (ben Chushiel, one of the first rishonim who studied under the last of the gaonim), who cites the Yerushalmi that R’ Yannai was pained by the fact that the people had taken a lesson from his act of harvesting the fruit on Chol HaMoed, but did not absorb the import of his act in declaring his field ownerless.
HaGaon R’ Yitzchak Silberstein cautions how careful one must be in assuring the honor of Hashem, for even when he may be acting completely in accordance with halacha, others may not be aware of the premise of his authority, and do wrong.
R’ Chaim Volozhiner writes in his Sefer Nefesh HaChaim (1) that when we cry in prayer for the tzaros of the Jewish people, we must, in truth, be pained for the honor of Hashem. In fact, when the Jewish people suffer, it can engender a chillul Hashem, because the nations deride the Jewish nation’s suffering. Therefore, the intent of our prayer should be that there should not be any desecration of Hashem’s Name.
R’ Chaim refers to the Talmud (Rosh Hashana 29a) which cites the pasuk (Shemos 17:11), “When Moshe held up his hand, Israel prevailed …” in describing the battle with Amalek. Our sages ask whether the hands of Moshe could make or break war by raising or lowering his hand. It is explained that the battle with Amalek was cause for the desecration of the Name of Hashem. Thus, when the eyes of the Jewish people were drawn heavenward with the raising of Moshe’s hand, their cries and prayers were not merely to express their own suffering. Rather, they were mourning the desecration of Hashem’s Name, and with that, they merited victory.
Likewise, in our generation, the tragedy of October 7 at the hands of the Amalek and Yishmael is most certainly a desecration of Hashem’s Name. We cry out in pain – not only for our suffering, but for the anguish of the Divine Presence, as it says (Tehillim 124:2-3), “Had not Hashem been with us when men rose up against us then they would have swallowed us alive, when their anger was kindled against us.”
Our main mission in life is to fulfill the will of Hashem. What are we prepared to do to achieve this goal?
The Barchi Nafshi recounts that there was once a strike among the city workers who cleaned the streets in Bnei Brak. It did not take long before the streets were littered with bottles, candy and food wrappers, cigarette butts and other miscellaneous trash. The residents looked with dismay as their thoroughfares became dirtier by the day, but no one did anything about it. A sense of apathy was pervasive. Indeed, it was a chillul Hashem in the making.
One day, the residents saw three children of one of the city’s noble families manually cleaning the streets. They picked up all the bottles, the detritus, and the debris scattered around, and threw them into large garbage bags. They swept the streets and then hosed them down.
When the locals thanked the children, they said, “Don’t thank us. Thank our parents who came up with the idea of cleaning the streets.”
One man called the father and lauded him highly. “Why are you calling?” he asked the man. “How is it possible for anyone to ignore our streets this way?” he asked in all innocence. In fact, he told the man, a couple who were recent ba’alei teshuva had come to visit a family in a nearby building. They were shocked when they saw the trash collecting on the streets and spoke disparagingly of the people in our community. I realized that it was imperative that we immediately take matters into our own hands.
The children were not embarrassed, and after a few hours of work, the streets of Bnei Brak were once again pristine. Everyone understood that they would have to maintain this effort for the foreseeable future, until the strike was resolved. But, even more importantly, they recognized the urgency of assuring that no chillul Hashem was brought about by any lack of action on their part.
