Rabbi Daniel Z. Feldman

It would not be false modesty to acknowledge that humility is a challenging concept. Moses is identified in this week’s Torah reading as “the most humble (anav) of all men (Num. 12:3)”, clearly a statement of praise, although its exact parameters, and relevance in this context, inserted in the middle of the recording of his siblings speaking negatively (lashon hara) about him, remain unclear.

One of the most baffling references is the statement of the Talmud (Sotah 49b), after declaring that with R. Yehudah HaNasi’s death, ‘anavah’ disappeared from the world. R. Yosef objects: Do not say anavah has disappeared, as there is me (“ana”)!

This passage has perplexed many; the idea of anyone proclaiming their own modesty certainly seems contradictory. Some have even suggested that there must have been a third person being referenced with the name ‘Ana’ (or Anna?).

At a minimum, this passage conveys that the true meaning of the term is elusive. In our parashah, we can assume that it did not require Moses to deny his uniqueness; in fact, the meaning may have been the opposite.

Rabbi Judah Lowe, known as the Maharal of Prague, posited a theory of lashon hara that excludes speech in front of the subject (Netivot Olam, Netiv HaLashon, ch. 7) which essentially is an extension of a Talmudic opinion that speech in front of the subject is not lashon hara. From a textual narrative perspective, the Chafetz Chaim (Klal 2, in n. 2.) and others challenged the Maharal's position by noting the central story of Miriam's lashon hara against her brother Moses. According to at least one midrashic opinion, Moses was present at the time. Apparently, this did not change the classification of the conversation as lashon hara.

Some suggest that the story of Moses is actually a proof to the Maharal's position. Their assumption is that the main factor is the ability of the victim to respond. However, since Moses is described by the Torah in this context as exceedingly humble, the implication is that this constitutes a unique situation where the victim would not respond, and therefore his presence does not mitigate the lashon hara, an exception to the general rule (R Dovid Kohn, Harchavat Gevul Ya’avetz, pp. 92-93).

Perhaps anavah as typified by Moses refers to a sense of self-awareness that does not require validation from any other human being. Some suggest, in this context, that Moses’ humility was such that he did not need his closest relatives to know of his unique status and why their judgements regarding him were unfounded.

The Rabbis taught, “Say little and do much”; my grandfather noted an interpretation that combined the two: say little about the much that you do.

The phenomenon of “virtue signaling” is not only immodest; its harm is actually greater than that. First, it has a tendency to crowd out actual accomplishment, and thus reduce virtue in favor of signaling.

Second, and more egregiously, it often takes the easier path, i.e. that of condemning others, so that one can look superior in comparison. The Talmud calls this “mitkabbed b’klon chavro”, honoring one’s self through the disgrace of his fellow, and indicates variously great reward for avoiding this behavior or terrible punishment for engaging in it (Megillah 28a; Yerushalmi Chagigah 2:1; Gen. Rabbah 1:5; Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Deiot 6:3 and Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:14). That can be readily understood: as all the attention is comparative, there is no actual substantive merit to be found in the one utilizing this tool.

This desire for comparative glory is also one of the motivations for speaking lashon hara (see Divrei Yirmiyahu, Hil. Deiot 7:2. See also The Watercooler Effect, p. 69 and p. 101 for expansions on this theme). Social psychologists call this "downward social comparison", in contrast with upward comparisons, which are efforts to improve by following the practices of those perceived as being superior (see John D. Mayer, Personal Intelligence, p. 198).

This distinction is evocative of a story related about R. Yisrael (Lipkin) Salanter, the founder of the “mussar movement”, devoted to personal introspection and improvement. The story describes the rabbi coming upon two children quarreling. The subject of their heated dispute was which of the two boys was the taller. In a final act of desperation, one child pushed the other to the ground, and, standing over him, proclaimed, “There, now I am the taller one!” R. Yisrael helped the defeated child to his feet and then said to the aggressor, “There was no need to push him to the ground to prove that you were taller—all you had to do was stand on a box!”

R. Eliyahu Meir Bloch (Shiurei U’Pinenei Da’at), the Rosh Yeshiva of the Telz Yeshiva, commented that it is easy for one who does not want to overtly praise himself to instead claim that he is righteously bemoaning the failings of his surroundings, and thus to boost himself by comparison. This desire to inflate oneself at the expense of the other may be rooted in simple self-aggrandizement, or it may target the subject specifically, either because of a pre-existing antipathy, or, very commonly, because of jealousy (See R. Eliezer Geldzehler, Torat Eliezer, letter #1, p. 164, and R. Matisyahu Solomon in the journal Kol Torah, XL, pp. 112-115).

Paradoxically, all of this may have contributed to R. Yosef’s need to “signal” his humility. Of course, there is apparent irony, almost humorously so, in the proclaiming of one’s own humility; but a second statement is equally surprising: “R. Nachman said, do not say fear of sin [has disappeared], for there is me.” Presumably, the righteous would not be expected to sing their own praises regarding any attribute. As the Maharsha suggests, this atypical behavior is perhaps driven by the need to correct the record on a crucial matter. To anyone who would say, there is no room for humility in the modern era; fear of sin, religious belief, is antiquated, incompatible with the contemporary ethos, it is vitally necessary to protest   - there is still a place, a possibility for modesty, restraint, and quiet Godliness, and there are still role models to prove it so. We still may not completely understand what anavah is; we definitely know what it is not.