In America, there’s a tradition when a class graduates from high
school. The top-performing student,
measured by their grades throughout the high school years, is designated Class
Valedictorian. And the second-best
performing student is designated Class Salutatorian. Both students are invited to speak at the
Commencement Ceremony.
(I always wondered
why it was called a Commencement. After
all, the ceremony marks the completion of the student’s high school
years, not their start. It’s like
the American custom of calling the main dish in a dinner, the entrée. That word should designate the starters,
if anything. But I digress…)
As you can imagine,
Valedictorian and Salutatorian speeches vary as much as the students who
delivery them. Many of the honorees are
happy to give a placid speech about the joy of memories and the joy of new
beginnings. But some feel compelled to
use their limelight to say something controversial. Something that is meant as a rebuke of their
fellow students, the school administration, or society in general. Obviously, the student who takes this third
path, risks the ire of many present.
People don’t like to be rebuked…who does??! But sometimes, when one is given a one-time
opportunity to be heard by a large audience, it is hard to resist.
I have a colleague
who was Valedictorian of his class, in Lafayette, Louisiana in the 1970’s. He used his speech to rebuke the community for
not moving with a full heart, from the racist ways of the Antebellum South. Twenty years later I happened through the
community and they were still talking about it. His rebuke had surely fallen on some fertile
ground of people who were happy to hear it, or who at least took it to heart. But for others, he had opened a wound that
remains festering to this day. The main
thing, though was that he didn’t craft the speech in the hopes of winning a
popularity contest. The Valedictorian is
not chosen in a popular vote. It is a strict
accounting of grade-point-average.
In my weekly reflections as a Rabbi,
I occasionally deliver a drash that could be accurately called, a rebuke. It’s a perfectly valid use for a speech. Of course, it’s important to balance rebuke
with consolation and comfort. Taking people
outside their comfort zone is sometimes useful and even necessary. But of course if people feel their Rabbi or
other leader is ‘beating them up’ constantly, then their message will easily be
lost.
Moses, in the Book
of Deuteronomy which we begin this Shabbat with Parashat Devarim, begins delivering
a multi-part valedictory address to the people Israel. His Swan Song. Hashem has sentenced him to die before the
conquest of the Land of Israel begins.
The reins of leadership will be passed to Joshua Bin Nun. As you remember, Joshua was one of the Twelve
Spies whom Moses sent to scout the Land, each one from a different tribe. Joshua represented the Tribe of Ephraim, one
of the two sons of Joseph, in the squad.
Joshua, and Caleb ben Yephunneh, the representative of the Tribe of
Judah, were the only two spies who brought back a positive and encouraging
report. The other ten brought back a
tale of gloom concerning the inhabitants of the Land. They told the assembled people that they’d be
better off returning to a life of servitude in Egypt, than trying to conquer
the Land. Joshua told Moses: With G-d’s help, we can conquer it.
So Moses, whether he
thinks his fate is fair or not, has accepted his fate and is offering his
farewell. And there is some bitterness
in his words. Despite great triumphs
along the way, his tone is that of a defeated man. And that’s reasonable; the one prize that he
had been aiming at these last 40 years is being denied him.
So his valedictory
address comes forward as a rebuke. He
reminds the people Israel of all the times they have sinned against Hashem
during their years of wandering in the wilderness. He’s not going let them off the hook, perhaps
because he wishes to help propel his successor to success by goading the people
to rally behind him and not rebel at the slightest turn of events. As they did to Moses.
It would be easy to
accuse Moses of lacking faith. Really,
that’s the ostensible reason for his death before entering the Land of
Israel. Remember the pronouncement? Because you struck the rock instead of
obeying my instruction to call forth the waters. Because Moses lacked the faith to carry
out G-d’s instruction to the letter, he was judged unworthy to lead the people
into the Land. Perhaps. Or perhaps Moses is just tired and worn-out
from the responsibility, from the constant bickering and need to defend himself
and G-d. But if that were the case, why
would his sentence be to not see the fulfilment of his dream? About thi we can only speculate.
So Moses delivers a
valedictory that comes forth, at times, as a stunning rebuke. He’s more worried that the people will learn
from their mistakes, than that he, Moses, will be remembered fondly for the
comfort and consolation he offered. And
that is the mark of a True Leader. He’s
concerned that his leadership will lead to good things. More than his concern over the fondness, with
which he’ll be remembered. And the truth
is that our tradition does not remember him in fondness. Rather, we remember him in greatness. As the Rambam stated some 24 centuries after
Moses’ death: All the Prophets are
true. And Moses is the greatest of them
all. Shabbat shalom.
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