Acharei Mos-Kedoshim: The Price of Payback

By Eric Lenefsky

Perhaps the most famous words in all of Judaism appears in this week’s parsha, ואהבת לרעך כמוך.

This, however, is not the full פסוק and I’d like to share an idea based on the rest of it:

"לֹֽא־תִקֹּ֤ם וְלֹֽא־תִטֹּר֙ אֶת־בְּנֵ֣י עַמֶּ֔ךָ וְאָֽהַבְתָּ֥ לְרֵעֲךָ֖ כָּמ֑וֹךָ אֲנִ֖י יְהֹוָֽה:"

You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against members of your people (Vayikra 19:18)

The Torah prohibits us from taking revenge and holding grudges, but commands us to love our fellow as ourself, before concluding “I am Hashem.” The Torah is clearly against revenge, but what is so bad about revenge? Is it truly admirable to let people walk all over us like a schmatta? Do we not see throughout Tanach that הקב”ה Himself takes revenge? What is the big issue with exacting revenge?

There have been a number of answers given to this question. The Yerushalmi in נדרים compares taking revenge to one who accidentally cuts himself while slicing meat. Is he now going to cut his other hand in revenge? Obviously not! Taking revenge, implies the ירושלמי, is illogical and wrong because all of כלל ישראל is one group, one entity, and in taking revenge on a fellow Jew, you are truly just maiming yourself. The ספר החינוך states that the issue with taking revenge is that everything comes from הקב”ה, and therefore one is not to blame his enemy, but is to blame himself for sinning and, as a result, needing punishment. He adds that vengeance is detrimental to maintaining a peaceful society, and when there is peace among men, God grants them peace.

While these answers are certainly true, I would like to offer an additional reason why revenge is so wretched, from a less than classic source. Aesop, the great Greek collector of fables, such as the well known The Tortoise and the Hare, tells over the following story.

A quarrel had arisen between the Horse and the Stag, so the Horse came to a Hunter to ask his help to take revenge on the Stag. The Hunter agreed, but said: ‘If you desire to conquer the Stag, you must permit me to place this piece of iron between your jaws, so that I may guide you with these reins, and allow this saddle to be placed upon your back so that I may keep steady upon you as we follow after the enemy.’ The Horse agreed to the conditions, and the Hunter soon saddled and bridled him. Then with the aid of the Hunter the Horse soon overcame the Stag, and said to the Hunter: ‘Now, get off, and remove those things from my mouth and back.’ ‘Not so fast, friend,’ said the Hunter. ‘I have now got you under bit and spur, and prefer to keep you as you are at present.

This fable is commonly referred to as the Horse that Lost its Liberty. The lesson learned from the fable is that in taking revenge, one gives up his freedom. When man gives in to his base desires in order to get back at his foes, he relinquishes his freedom to his emotions. He can longer be regarded as a בן חורין. This is the price of payback and the result of retribution.

Perhaps this can explain the end of our פסוק as well. The פסוק ends with the words אני ה׳, which Rashi generally explains as meaning I am Hashem who rewards or punishes, depending on the act of the person. But perhaps, it means something greater. Perhaps here, it is a reminder that אני ה׳ אשר הוצאתי אתכם מארץ מצרים. I am Hashem who took you out of Egypt. I am Hashem who liberated you from the bondage of מצרים and who set you free. By taking revenge, one reneges on the freedom gifted to him by Hashem, and becomes a slave once again.

May we always recognize and take advantage of our freedom, do the רצון of הקב”ה, and be the best עבדי ה׳ we can be.

Have a great shabbos!