Let go of your ego
In Parashat Shelach Lecha
(Num 13:1), we hear the story of the scouts (often referred to as the “spies”). Moses, under God’s command, sends the scouts to check out the land of Canaan, as our ancestors prepared to enter into it. Of course, most of the scouts come back with negative reports about the land — it’s treacherous, and filled with giants who will kill us! Two come back and instead report that the land is indeed a wonderful land, and one which, with God’s help, we can conquer.
Regardless of what happens once the scouts head out, the original command to send the scouts gets the rabbis’ attention. God says, “Shelach Lecha Anashim.” It’s a tough sentence to accurately translate. If we were to translate it literally, it would read “Send to you men,” or, perhaps a bit more grammatically, “Send men to you.” Either way, it doesn’t really make sense — what does lecha (“to you”) mean here? What, exactly, is being commanded?
One of the answers comes from the Kotzker Rebbe (Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk). Recalling a similar problem with Abraham (when God said, “Lech Lecha – go to yourself ”), the Kotzker knows that lecha can be read as an idiom for “for your own benefit.” And, as he often does, he re-reads anashim as anashut – not “men,” but “person-hood.” So, the command now reads “For your own good, send away your person-ness. For your benefit, get rid of your sense of self.”
Central to the thinking of this early master of Hassidic thought was the importance of minimizing our own sense of self — what we would call our ego. These men in the Torah were being sent, quite literally, on a mission from God, and so the first thing that they had to do was to make sure that they weren’t concerned with their own selves. That they weren’t letting their own wants and needs get in the way of their true purpose – serving God.
We’ve all been in situations where we were trying to do something for the greater good, but our own egos, our own self-importance has messed things up. Our need to be acknowledged, or even glorified, can sometimes corrupt what had been, originally, a pure intention. Our motivation to serve others gets transformed into a need to serve ourselves. Someone volunteers to sit on the synagogue board, because they love their congregation, and before they know it, they’re wondering what they get out of this. I lead services, because I want to help people have a moment of holiness, and when I’m done, I’m wondering what people thought about my sermon. Try as we might, our own sense of self, and our own sense of self-importance, just won’t go away!
It is, the Kotzker teaches, a constant battle. Living a life of kedusha (holiness), trying to get closer to God, requires that we minimize our own egos. Trying to serve the Most High requires that we aren’t too worried about serving ourselves. It’s not a one-time decision but an ongoing struggle – how do we silence that constant voice within us, asking to be fed, so that we can hear a much greater voice?
Rabbinically Speaking is published as a public service by the Jewish Press in cooperation with the Tampa Rabbinical Association which assigns the column on a rotating basis.















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