How Can I Carry You
By Rabbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah (www.bircas.org)
In Parshas Devarim, Moshe Rabbeinu looked back over the forty years in the wilderness. He reviewed everything the people went through, everything they did and gave them gentle rebuke. Near the beginning he said something surprising: “I cannot carry you alone” (Devarim 1:9). I cannot judge you by myself. That is why he looked for others to judge together with him.
Rashi asks: what does that mean, he cannot judge? Does it mean he lacked the strength? This is Moshe Rabbeinu, who did miracles beyond nature — who took the people out of Mitzrayim and split the sea. He could not judge? So Rashi explains that it was something else. Moshe saw how severe judgment is, and he felt the fear: “If I rule wrongly, I will be held responsible.” So he said, “I cannot do this alone — let me bring others in.” Rashi adds that Shlomo HaMelech felt this same fear.
My rebbe, Rav Dovid Soloveitchik, asked a sharp question. Were they really afraid that they would make a mistake? Moshe knew the entire Torah. Shlomo HaMelech was wiser than any man alive. So what was this fear? My rebbe answered: they knew they were capable, they were the most capable people alive. But even a truly capable person, when he feels the weight of responsibility becomes frightened. He thinks “This is Hashem’s Torah. I cannot afford to be wrong.” Precisely because of his yiras Shamayim — his fear of Heaven — he feels incapable. Not from lack of ability, but because he takes it so seriously that he wants someone standing beside him. You see this in the gedolim of every generation. They never acted alone. The Chofetz Chaim always wanted Rav Chaim Ozer at his side. That fear lived inside them.
Most people live with all kinds of fears. One is afraid of getting sick; others worry about maybe losing parnassah but they worry very little about spiritual matters. The Gemara in Berachos (60a) tells us it should be the reverse. A student walking on the road with Rabbi Yishmael, looked very frightened. Rabbi Yishmael said, “Why are you afraid? To be afraid like this is a failing.” The student answered, “But the pasuk says, ‘Fortunate is the person who always fears’ (Mishlei 28:14).” Rabbi Yishmael told him: that verse is speaking about matters of Torah. Only about Torah, are you meant to be afraid.
Rav Dessler explains the Gemara. If something is actually in front of you, deal with it; but to sit and worry about daily matters, that might get you sick. Maybe this, maybe that — these are fears that you are not meant to have. You should have bitachon — trust in Hashem. HaKadosh Baruch Hu is with us, watching over us, and whatever He does is only for our good. Beyond that, these worries simply drain your life and give nothing back. The Maharal calls them a kind of bad imagination — get that imagination out of you. All it does is rob you of the life you have right now. What Hashem wants us to fear is only about Torah.
So what does ‘fear of Torah’ mean? First, ruling on a halachic question. The gedolim — Moshe, Shlomo, all of them — feared getting a ruling wrong, and each of us should carry a measure of that fear. Even at home: maybe I will tell my wife or my children something that might be questionable or Heaven forbid I will get it wrong. That is a legitimate fear.
Fear of Torah also means not to forget the Torah that you learned. Rav Aharon Leib Shteineman was constantly reviewed his learning. He would ask people to test him — Gemara, Rashi, Tosafos — all by heart. “I am going to be tested up there,” he would say. “I want to make sure that I know it.” Once he forgot a single Tosafos in Bava Kamma and felt terrible: “How will I face the test up there?”
Another aspect of the fear of Torah is honestly asking oneself, “Am I doing what Hashem wants? Am I doing enough? What am I missing?” You have to work on it, it does not come naturally. You have to continuously build this fear within yourself.
Moshe continues. In pasuk (Devarim 1:12) he cries out, “Eicha — how can I carry your burdens and your quarrels alone?” On the simple level he’s expressing his feelings about this point: it is impossible for me to carry this responsibility alone. Chazal tell us (Midrash Eicha 1:1) that with the word “eicha” he was also hinting at the Churban — the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. Three cried “eicha”: Moshe said “eicha” while everything was still good; Yeshayahu said “eicha” as things began to slip; and Yirmiyahu said it at the Churban itself.
How could Moshe hint at the Churban when everything was fine and the people were behaving? Rav Moshe Feinstein explains what he saw. As people came before him to be judged, he noticed their middos were not perfect. Even though it was only small things — small things grow. A flaw in a person’s middos, left alone, does not stay small; it spreads until one day it can bring the downfall of the Beis HaMikdash. So he is telling them: work on it immediately.
The Gemara Kiddushin (20a) teaches us that once a person does something wrong and repeats it, again and again until he can no longer stop. He beomes so accustomed to it. So deal with it when it is first starting. Rav Wolbe added an additional reason to work on your middos at the beginning. When a fault is still small, if you work on it little by little it will move. Once it grows big, your yetzer hara — your inner resistance — will not let you fight it. It only lets you do small work. He gave the example about medicine: a small dose heals, but swallow a large dose and your body cannot take it — it can even harm you. The same is true here.
Take the Churban itself. The Gemara in Yoma (9b) says the Beis HaMikdash was destroyed because of sinas chinam — baseless hatred. So the moment you feel yourself turning against a friend, stop and look at it. Why am I really turning against him? What did he do? Is this not coming from jealousy? Is it permitted for me to feel this way? This is not what Hashem wants. It is also not good for you — it makes you bitter and eats away at you. Hashem judges you measure for measure: what you send out comes back to you. So think about this, and do small actions to get closer to the person, before the hatred takes root.
The Sfas Emes adds another layer. Rashi tells us (Devarim 1:14) that when Moshe said he could not judge alone, he was really testing the people. He was waiting for them to say, “No — we only want to learn from you.” But they did not. They were quietly moving away from the gadol, from Moshe their great rav, wanting to manage on their own. That, says the Sfas Emes, is the deeper “eicha” — pulling away from your rav is itself something that can lead to a Churban.
A rav builds you in alot of ways. He brings you closer to Hashem. Moshe Rabbeinu was the closest person to Hashem and he uplifted everybody. He helps you grow tremendously in Torah. The Gemara Nedarim (38a) says that simply being in Moshe’s presence gave people an understanding and sharpness in Torah that they would not have had otherwise. He also helps you to grow in middos. Look at Moshe himself, the most humble of all men. When his own sister spoke against him, it meant nothing to him, only Hashem punished her. When Dasan and Aviram picked a fight, Moshe went out to make peace with them (Bamidbar 16:25). Being near a person like that lifts you — so how could you want to pull away? The same is true of our own rebbeim. They are the ones who lift us in Torah, in closeness to Hashem, and in middos. We need to stay close to them.
Baruch Hashem, I was zocheh to a great father. He was a father, but also a great rebbe to us. He showed us closeness to Hashem, love of Torah, and greatness in middos. He was deeply humble. He worked never to get angry — not even in his heart. He kept far from honor, and gave every single person respect.
He once took a resolution upon himself. He never told us about it; we only found it written on a note after he was gone. This is what it said: “I want to feel that every Jew, even strangers, are part of my own family. Worry about them; help them however I can. If I cannot help them, at least think how I might. Even if that is beyond me — at least daven for them.” That was my father, and we should all try to go in his ways.
May we be zocheh in these days to work especially on our middos, to draw close to our rebbeim and learn from them, bringing closer the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash, speedily in our days.