| The Rashomon Effect, named after the1950 Japanese film Rashomon, is term describing how different people can witness the exact same event but relate the story in contradictory ways. A corollary of this when something unpleasant happens to two people; one person remembers disappointment, the other remembers the lesson learned. One focuses on what went wrong, the other on what he or she gained from the experience. The facts may be the same, but the purpose of the telling often determines which details we emphasize. We have the privilege of beginning Devarim (Deuteronomy), the final book of the Torah, this Shabbat. It begins with Moses reflecting on the Jewish people’s forty years in the wilderness. He alludes to many events that occurred during their 40-year sojourn in the desert, among which is the story of the spies—a pivotal moment when fear and uncertainty caused the nation to lose confidence in entering the Land of Israel. This incident took place earlier and is told at length in Bamidbar, the Book of Numbers, but something surprising emerges. The stories are not identical. Certain details appear in one version but not the other. In the original telling, Moses passionately pleads with God to forgive the people after their mistake, but much of the rebuke found in this week’s portion is absent. Conversely, in this week’s Parsha, Moses addresses the next generation standing on the threshold of Israel, he focuses on the nation’s failures and their refusal to trust in God—but omits one critical detail: God’s forgiveness. Why are there two versions of the same event? Rabbi Nachum Rabinovitch (1928-2020) offers a beautiful insight. The differences are not contradictions, they reflect the purpose of each telling. In the original account, Moses is acting as the nation’s defense attorney. His goal is to get God to forgive the Jewish nation. When the Jewish people’s future hangs in the balance, adding further criticism would serve no purpose. He therefore emphasizes mercy and minimizes their failings. When Moses recounts the story the second time, he is a teacher preparing his students for life without him. His goal is not forgiveness but growth. He wants the next generation to learn from the mistakes of their parents. If he had emphasized God’s forgiveness, they might mistakenly conclude, “It’s okay—we can always apologize later.” Instead, he highlights the consequences of a failure of lack of trust. In other words, Moses tells the same story differently because different moments call for different messages. But Rabbi Rabinovitch takes this one step further. In both cases, Moses is doing exactly the same thing; his sole concern was the well-being of the Jewish people. When they needed mercy, he emphasized their virtues. When they needed guidance, he emphasized their shortcomings. His motivation is identical in both cases—he was seeking the good of his people. The Torah itself seeks the merit of the Jewish people and Moses devoted his entire life to them—defending them, teaching them, and carrying their burdens, and that is why the Torah bears his name: Toras Moshe, the Torah of Moses. In every generation, Jewish leadership belongs to those who possess this quality. The measure of a Torah personality is not only how much Torah they know, but how they view other people—and they serve as models for us. Do we instinctively assume the best? Do we defend others when they are being criticized? Do we help people grow without making them feel small? Can we tell the story of someone’s life in a way that gives them dignity? As we approach Tisha B’Av, these questions become especially important. The Second Temple was destroyed because of sinas chinam—baseless hatred. One way to understand this is that we stopped looking for the good in one another. We became experts at noticing faults and forgot how to become advocates for each other. Moses modeled a different way. Sometimes he spoke firmly and sometimes gently. Sometimes he defends but other times he rebukes. But he never stops loving his people. Every person in our lives has a story: a spouse, a child, a friend, a coworker, or someone in shul. We can choose which details to emphasize and define people by their worst moments or we can remember that there is always a larger story to tell. This Shabbos is called Shabbos Chazone; the Shabbos before Tisha B’Av. Our mandate is to become better at finding the merit in one another and then, hopefully, God will once again find the merit in us, and we will merit to see the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple, speedily in our days. Good Shabbos (Source: Rav Nachum Rabinovitch, נר לנתיבתי, Devarim, pp. 365–366) |
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