The fear of being led astray.
The book of Devarim, Deuteronomy, wrestles with this very fear. It lays out the laws, the commandments, the stories of our people – all to guide us, to keep us on the path. And within it, in Sifrei Devarim 87, we find a fascinating look at how temptation works, how it preys on our vulnerabilities.
The text speaks of the "son of your mother." This isn't just any son, but your brother, specifically from your mother. A very close relative indeed. Then it mentions "or your son" – and here, the Sifrei adds something striking: "in any event (i.e., even if he is a mamzer)." A mamzer, in Jewish law, has a very specific and complex status. The inclusion here is important. It suggests that even someone with a complicated past, someone potentially on the margins of society, can be a source of temptation. Temptation doesn't discriminate.
And then, "who is as your soul" - this, surprisingly, refers to your father and your mother. The people closest to you, those who know you best, can also be the ones who lead you astray. It’s a chilling thought, isn't it? That the people you trust most could be the very ones whispering dangerous ideas in your ear.
But here’s the key: the text emphasizes that these whispers happen "in secret, saying". The Sifrei teaches us that these words of incitement are uttered only in secret. Think about that for a moment. Temptation thrives in the shadows. As Proverbs 7:9 says, "In the evening, in the close of day, in the midst of night and darkness." It's when we're vulnerable, when our defenses are down, that these whispers can take root.
But contrast that with the Torah itself. "Words of Torah," the text continues, "are uttered only in the open." Wisdom, as Proverbs 1:20 proclaims, "sings in the streets." Truth doesn't hide. It invites scrutiny, discussion, and open debate.
It’s a powerful contrast, isn’t it? The whisper in the dark versus the song in the streets.
And then comes a rather stinging assessment from Rabbi Yossi Haglili. Regarding the phrase "Let us go and serve other gods, whom you did not know, you, nor your fathers," (Devarim, Ibid.) he says this is "in denigration of Israel." Why? Because, he argues, idolators are often fiercely loyal to the traditions of their ancestors. They cling to what they know. But Israel, he suggests, is sometimes too quick to abandon the traditions of their fathers, to chase after something new, something… idolatrous.
Ouch.
It's a harsh assessment, but a necessary one. It forces us to confront our own tendencies to be easily swayed, to be seduced by the allure of the unknown, even when it goes against everything we've been taught. It's a reminder that true faith requires constant vigilance, a commitment to seeking truth in the open, and a willingness to question even the whispers of those closest to us. Are we truly honoring the legacy of our ancestors, or are we too easily swayed by the fleeting temptations of the present? That, perhaps, is the question Sifrei Devarim 87 leaves us to ponder.