No person was ever honored for what he received. Honor has been the reward for what he gave. -- Calvin Coolidge
A rabbi was being honored at his congregation’s dinner after 25 years of dutiful service to the community. One member of the congregation, a local politician, was chosen to make a presentation at the dinner, but he was running late, so the rabbi decided to say a few words.
“I’ll never forget the first day I arrived to serve as your rabbi. I thought I had made a terrible mistake. The very first congregant to speak with me privately confessed to breaking into a home, embezzling from his employer, and neglecting his elderly parents and young children. I was appalled. In due time, however, I came to learn that the congregation is full of upstanding people.”
Just then, the politician arrived with apologies for being late. He immediately began his presentation.
“I’ll never forget the first day our rabbi arrived,” said the politician. “In fact, I was the first congregant to speak with him privately.”
While it may not rise to such epic failure, being honored is rarely an honor.
Yet Paroh’s lust for honor knew no bounds. So pathetic was his quest for honor that he even lowered the entranceway to his palace and aligned his throne opposite it, so that all who entered would be forced to bow before him. He went to extraordinary lengths to refrain from relieving himself other than in the wee hours of the morning, just so others would think he didn’t have to attend to his bodily functions (Shemos 7:15 and Rashi ad loc.). Imagine the toll on his kidneys.
Thinking about it some 3,300 years later, it seems almost pathetic that a grown man would go to such lengths for the sake of some honor. But it demonstrates just how illogical and self-defeating honor can be.
At best, honor is illusory. Like a mirage, one who chases honor pursues nothing of substance only to see yet another mirage in the distance. Indeed, honor eludes those who pursue it. “All who seek prestige, prestige flees from him; and all who flee from prestige, prestige seeks him” (Eruvin 13b; Avos 1:13; Yerushalmi, Sotah 9:17; Yerushalmi, Avoda Zara 3:1; Tanchuma, Vayikra 3).
Reb Bunim of Peshischa was once asked by a disciple, “Rebbe, I flee from honor, but it does not pursue me. How can that be?” The Rebbe shot back, “When a person truly flees from something, they do not turn around to see if it is in pursuit.” The implication was that this man, while pretending to flee from honor, was still effectively turning his head behind him hoping that honor was chasing him. That’s not fleeing.
Why does honor elude those who desperately seek it? People don’t react well when asked to give something that is a matter of discretion. If a waiter says, “tip me,” it is natural for a patron to resist. So it is with honor. The more it is demanded, the less people want to give it.
But honor also can be, and often is, insidious and self-destructive (Avos 4:21; Rambam, Deios 2:14; Mesillas Yesharim, Chapter 11), and many a great person has been felled in quest for it.
The spies sent to reconnoiter the Land of Israel were all distinguished and honorable men (Bamidbar 13:3-4 and Rashi and Ramban ad loc.), yet they provided a negative report of the land and doomed the Jewish people to generations of misery—all in the pursuit of honor (Mesillas Yesharim, Chapter 11). They feared that, once settled in the land, there would be a new administration and, as a result, they would lose the prominence and prestige they had attained.
Korach, too, was a man of intelligence and stature (see Bamidbar 16:7 and Rashi ad loc.; Pesachim 119a), but he fell from grace due to his lust for honor. Korach accused Moshe of honor-seeking (Bamidbar 16:3 and Rashi ad loc.), yet his own thirst for honor did him in (see Bamidbar 16:6; Mesillas Yesharim, Chapter 11). Indeed, of all things, Korach accused Moshe of being an honor-seeker precisely because Korach himself was one (Kiddushin 70a).
Similarly, Yeravam Ben Nevat forfeited his opportunity in the World to Come because of his lust for honor. Yeravam was once pious and wise (Sanhedrin 102a), but he later strayed and became evil. Once, G-d grabbed Yeravam by his clothing and implored, “Repent, and you and I and the son of Yishai (i.e., Dovid) will walk together in the Garden of Eden” (Sanhedrin 102a; Mesillas Yesharim, Chapter 11).
“Who will lead?” asked Yeravam.
When G-d answered that Dovid would be lead, Yeravam declined—permanently forfeiting his share in the World to Come.
Of course, honor, as a concept, is not inherently bad. Hashem must be honored (Kiddushin 30b); parents must be honored (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Dei’ah 240); the righteous and teachers must be honored (Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Dei’ah 242, 244); and there is a certain degree of honor with which we must treat all people (see e.g. Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Dei’ah 303:1). Indeed, before the beginning of each new month, we pray for “a life of…honor” (Berachos 16b).
But we must seek not to attain honor but to bestow it upon others (see Sichos Mussar 5733:19).
The Gerrer Rebbe and the Chofetz Chaim once travelled together on a train. At each stop, throngs of people gathered at the railroad station to greet these righteous men. The Gerrer Rebbe disembarked at each stop to greet the crowds and dispense blessings, while the Chofetz Chaim remained aboard. When the Gerrer Rebbe returned to his seat after one such stop, the Chofetz Chaim remarked, “You know, one’s reward in the World to Come is diminished for honor received in this world.”
The Gerrer Rebbe responded, “To do a favor for another Jew, one must sometimes forego a portion of his share in the World to Come. It is a worthwhile sacrifice to give encouragement to another Jew.”
At the next station, the Chofetz Chaim joined the Gerrer Rebbe in greeting the masses.
In fact, the truly honorable person is the one who honors others. “Who is honorable? One who honors others” (Pirkei Avos 4:1). Seek opportunities to bestow it upon others, and you will discover it in yourself as well.
R’ Isser Zalman Meltzer once was visited by some of his students. One of the students looked outside and thought he saw the Brisker Rav approaching. “Rebbi, the Brisker Rav is coming to see you!”
R’ Isser Zalman rose immediately and dressed in Shabbos attire, though it soon became clear that the approaching man was not the Brisker Rav.
When the door opened, R’ Isser Zalman, still dressed in his Shabbos finest, greeted the stranger warmly, as if he were the Brisker Rav. The man explained that he was traveling abroad to raise money to marry off his daughter, and he had come to request a letter of recommendation. Without delay, R’ Isser Zalman reached for pen and paper and wrote an impressive letter.
After the man left, R’ Isser Zalman’s students questioned him about the seemingly inordinate honor he accorded a total stranger.
R’ Isser Zalman replied, “Unfortunately, many people make the mistake of honoring one Jew more than the next.”
But if avoiding honor attracts it, doesn’t fleeing from honor imply a thirst for it? Rather, explained the Kotzker Rebbe, one who truly despises honor does not run from it (which only serves to attain it), but becomes oblivious to it (see also Sichos Mussar 5733:19).
Two great scholars, R’ Akiva Eiger and R’ Yaakov of Lisa (the “Nesivos”), were once traveling together by horse-drawn carriage. When they reached their destination town, throngs of eagerly awaiting people detached the horses and began to pull the carriage themselves into the city. The Nesivos assumed that the honor was for R’ Akiva Eiger, so he descended from the carriage and began to pull it with the townsfolk. R’ Akiva Eiger assumed that the honor was for the Nesivos, so he too descended from the carriage and began to pull it with the townsfolk. Only later was it discovered that they were pulling an empty carriage—all because it had never dawned on either of these two righteous men that the honor was for them.
* * * *
Don’t get me wrong: it is not natural to be oblivious to honor. I understand the allure of honor as much as the next guy. But we also must recognize that honor is a mirage—it doesn’t gain us a thing. In that sense, we ought to be selfish, and maybe that has its own problems. But honor is far worse—for the soul, and, in the case of Paroh, for the kidneys too.