饾悘饾悮饾惈饾惉饾悺饾悮饾惌 饾悂饾悶饾悺饾悮’饾悮饾惀饾惃饾惌饾悳饾悺饾悮
饾悏饾悶饾惏饾惉 饾悜饾悶饾悷饾惍饾惉饾悽饾惂饾悹 饾悗饾惈饾悵饾悶饾惈饾惉: 饾悡饾悺饾悶 饾悘饾惈饾悶饾悳饾悶饾悵饾悶饾惂饾惌
饾槪饾樅 饾槈饾槳饾槸饾樅饾槩饾槷饾槳饾槸 饾槨饾槮饾樂 饾槖饾槩饾槱饾槩饾槸饾槮
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In Parashat Beha'alotcha, we witness a unique event: the choosing of leaders. The Torah even "lets us in" on the factors involved in selecting these Jewish leaders. In chapter 11 of our parsha, Moshe reaches his breaking point—"I cannot carry the burden of this people alone, for it is too heavy for me"—and asks G-d to find people who can share the burden of leadership with him. But how does G-d pick these leaders? After all, there was no shortage of righteous and talented Jews at the time.
G-d immediately singles out a specific group from which the next Jewish leaders will be chosen: "Gather to me seventy men of the elders of Israel, whom you know to be the elders of the people, and officers over them." Rashi explains: "These are the ones you recognize, who were appointed over the people as officers in Egypt during the rigorous labor. They had pity on the Israelites and were smitten because of them."
Though this choice may seem surprising at first, a deeper examination reveals a profound lesson, especially relevant today. Who exactly were these Jewish officers? In the Book of Shmot (Exodus), chapter 5, Pharaoh imposes a harsh and seemingly impossible edict on the Jewish slaves: they must produce a specific quota of bricks without being given straw. The Jewish officers were tasked with overseeing that the quota was met. If they failed, they would be blamed and beaten.
These officers found themselves in a terrible dilemma: either they could betray their fellow Jews, reporting those who couldn't meet the quota in order to save themselves, or they could refuse to comply with Pharaoh's orders and endure severe punishment. In essence, these officers were expected to act as Jewish "kapos."
However, unlike others in similar positions throughout history, these officers chose a different path. They refused to oppress their already suffering brethren and did not turn in the Jews who failed to meet the quota. The consequence? The Egyptian taskmasters lashed out at these brave officers instead, beating them: "And the officers of the children of Israel, whom Pharaoh's taskmasters had set over them, were beaten..." (5:14).
If we reflect on this seriously, and not merely as a fairy tale we were told as children, we would get goose bumps all over contemplating such heroism. What can be a more inspiring description of ''Ahavat Yisraef' and caring for a fellow Jew by someone in a position of authority? Not only didn't these officers exploit their power, but they understood that sometimes they must bear the suffering of their brothers. This is what G-d saw, and He did not forget it. When the time for leadership came, He knew whom to turn to. He did not seek out those with charisma, talented organizers or even Torah scholars. The one quality He looked for was Ahavat Yisrael—the genuine love and concern for one's fellow Jew.
The centrality of this attribute cannot be disputed. The two greatest leaders in Jewish history, Moshe Rabbeinu and King David, both began their journeys as humble shepherds. The sages teach us that G-d tested them through their ability to care for their flock and show mercy to those they were responsible for.
Here we must stress a key point. Today, everyone speaks of "Ahavat Yisrael" (love for fellow Jews), but too often it is reduced to a slogan. When G-d selected leaders for the Jewish people, He did not choose those who merely spoke eloquently about "Ahavat Yisrael." Instead, He sought individuals with a "proven track record"—a record of suffering alongside their brothers, a history of prioritizing the welfare of the people over their own personal interests.
How sweet it is to read again and again the midrash about the Jewish policemen in Egypt. We are so familiar with the excuses used by soldiers and policemen in Israel today: "I'm just a small cog in a big machine. I'm just following orders." But that is not what the Jewish policemen did in Egypt. They saw the illegality and immorality of the cruel Egyptian decree and chose to refuse the order!
It is important to note that "mesirut nefesh" (self-sacrifice) for the Jewish people is not necessarily the willingness to die for them. Sometimes, it means the readiness to be hated for your actions, the willingness to sit in jail for your people, or to be ostracized by the establishment.
Such leadership is a stark contrast to the self-indulgent politicians of today. But know that only when such alternative leadership emerges—one rooted in true selflessness, courage, and devotion to the people—will Am Yisrael be redeemed,
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