Rabbi O’s Weekly Parsha: Eikav (Deuteronomy 7:12-11:25)

The Praying Thief: Faith or Self-Deception?

Imagine someone involved in financial fraud and actually asking G-d for help in the enterprise. It seems illogical but the person tells himself, “I support important charitable causes and with this endeavor I will be able to donate a wing to a hospital in Israel. Please, G-d, allow me to succeed in this shady deal. Although this person’s thinking is warped, he is following the path of some of the people in the generation who wandered through the desert.

When Moses rebukes the people for rebelling, he articulates it in an unusual way: You have been rebellious with G-d from the day that I knew you” (9:24).  How is one rebellious with G-d? Was G-d a partner in their rebellion? Of course not; rather, it should say, you have been rebellious against G-d

The 19th century Chassidic master Rav Tzadok of Lublin (as adapted in Rav Tzadok HaKohen on the Parsha by Rav Yitzchak Schwartz) spotlights this point and explains that personal spiritual failure falls into two fundamentally different categories.  The first is obvious: a person forgets G-d. Sometimes it’s in the heat of temptation, at other times it’s an impulsive desire. Hashem (G-d) is simply absent from their mind. At that moment the person isn’t thinking about right and wrong, just about what they want at that moment. “I want this woman, now—even though she’s married and so am I” or “I want this laptop, even though it belongs to the company.” At that moment, all I care about is getting what I want—now.

But there’s another, far more deceptive, kind of sin. A person remembers Hashem and even feels His presence, but it doesn’t stop the person from going ahead and doing the wrong thing. Not only does the person remain aware of G-d at that moment, but they might even convince themselves that G-d is on board with what they’re doing. The rebellion is “with” G-d because they never let go of Him in their consciousness — they just twist the relationship to serve their own ends.

Maimonides gives the example of sudden anger. A person erupts but justifies it as righteous indignation. “This person deserved it.” She feels no contradiction between her fury and Hashem’s will, which would be to consider the time, place, and context of a situation before bursting out in a fit of rage. But because this woman is so sure of herself, she is convinced that Hashem must agree.

This idea is vividly captured in a statement in the Talmud (Brachos 63a) when describing a thief who prays to G-d before breaking in. It’s pretty absurd for a thief to ask, G-d, please help me succeed. He believes in G-d and is even counting on Him. In a bizarre way, the thief might feel more connected in that moment than the person who forgets G-d entirely, but it’s obviously a misuse of faith used to reinforce self-justification.

Rav Tzadok of Lublin says that this was Jewish people’s sin in the wilderness. They saw manna fall from heaven. They heard the voice at Sinai. They had no theological doubts about the Almighty’s existence. When they complained, rebelled against Moses or danced around the Golden Calf, they convinced themselves they were right. They weren’t rebelling against Hashem in their own minds, they were rebelling with Him, as if He were an unspoken partner in their discontent. Perhaps that’s why this type of transgression is so hard to uproot. If a person forgets G-d, he or she can be woken up and be reminded of what’s real, but if a person thinks that G-d agrees with whatever crime they are about to commit, then the self-deception is much deeper and almost impossible to uproot.

The story we began with concerning the person involved in financial fraud is understandable because it’s how the mind of a sociopath works. He is never wrong; everyone else is at fault. The person is so convinced that he is right that he even believes that G-d would side with him. He thinks that the mitzvah of giving charity isn’t in conflict with stealing—in fact it’s a reason to steal because of all the recipients who will benefit. Like the Talmud’s example of the praying thief, he brings G-d along into the transgression.

Although we nod our heads in astonishment at this man’s way of thinking, many of us are guilty of it on a smaller scale. We excuse lashon hara (derogatory, non-constructive gossip) because people need to know. We might embarrass someone in front of friends or colleagues because someone needed to tell her and I was the only one with the guts to do it. Even if the woman in question needed to be told, did she need to be embarrassed in front of her friends or business colleagues? Did you speak it over with a disinterested person so that you would know if this extreme action is necessary? The way to avoid falling into this trap is to speak with an impartial friend and ask, am I doing this because it’s what the Almighty wants or because it’s what I want it and I’m looking for G-d’s seal of approval?

Moses’ words still echo for us: be careful not to rebel “with” Hashem. Sometimes this means asking advice before acting on “holy” impulse. Being Jewish isn’t merely believing that G-d exists, it’s trusting His lead, even when it cuts across our natural instincts. The thief may have brought G-d into his crime but he’s made a gaping mistake. Our goal is to bring Hashem into our lives in a way that He, not us, leads. If not, you might justify yourself and even think you are walking with G-d, but, seriously, who is doing the leading?

Good Shabbos