"[And Moses explained to the people of Gad and to the people of Reuven that before they enter Trans-Jordan they must first fight the battle with their brethren on the west bank of the Jordan River] and we shall conquer the land before the Lord and afterwards you shall return [to Trans-Jordan] so that you shall appear to be innocent before the Lord and before the Israelites." (Numbers 32:22)
Apparently, the Bible thinks it important that the tribes of Gad and of Reuven not only do what is right, but also appear to do what is right. Therefore, they cannot settle on the eastern side of Jordan-Trans-Jordan before they join what's left of the tribes in the battle for the west bank of the Jordan, where their brethren will settle. And from these words, "and you shall appear to be innocent before the Lord and before the Israelites," we learn that an individual must always conduct himself in a manner which is beyond reproach; we can never do anything that would make other people think that we did something wrong. In common religious parlance, such zealous concern that we not appear to do anything wrong is the importance of marit ayin, or literally, "the seeing eye".
But why is it so important to be concerned with what others think? I once heard from a very wise rabbi that he had to decide early on in his rabbinate whether he was out to please his congregants or to please G-d; he decided to try to please G-d, because G-d has a much better memory than his congregants would ever have. So, why isn't our Bible satisfied with our pleasing G-d? Why must we be so considerate of what others think?
I believe that the message here is not very different from the message of the one half-shekel that every Israelite must give to be counted in the census. It is one half-shekel, not a whole shekel, in order to remind each of us how dependant we are on each other, how much of an interdependent entity the Israelite nation really is. We live our daily lives in the presence of others, whose respect for us is necessary if we ourselves are to feel respectable, or worthy of respect. Our own self-image derives from how others see us. And if we do not realize our dependency on others, neither will we be sensitive to the dependency of others upon us. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" is predicated upon this fundamental feeling of interdependence, which links every Israelite to every other Israelite.
Therefore, our sages teach us: "One who enters the Temple office to give his half-shekel should not come wearing a robe with large sleeves or with a shoe or with phylacteries or with an amulet (objects which tend to conceal stolen money) lest he become poor and people say that he was punished for having stolen from the Temple treasury or lest he become wealthy and people say that he profited from taking from the Temple treasury. Every individual must be innocent in the eyes of humanity as well as in the eyes of G-d...." (Mishnah, Shekalim 3:2) Our sages further remind us: "The family of Garmu, which had the special recipe for making the Temple Showbread that remained fresh for seven days would never serve bread on their own table, lest others think that they had taken from the Temple Showbread; similarly, the family of Avtinas, who had the special recipe for the Temple sweet-smelling incense, would never have any of their daughters walk out of the house perfumed...." (Tosefta, Yoma Chapter 2:2,6)
There is, however, a second side to this fascinating law. At the same time that the individual must be sensitive to what others think, the others must give every individual the benefit of the doubt. No one in Judaism is considered guilty unless his guilt is proven. Hence, the great Talmudic sage Resh Lakish taught, "One who is suspicious of an innocent individual is worthy of being punished on his person." (Tractate Shabbat 97a) And similarly, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perahia taught, "You must judge every human being on the scale of merit." (Mishnah, Avot 1:6)
Therefore, our normative law deals with both of these concerns at the same time. Hence, if someone wishes to drink coconut milk (which is considered to be a vegetable and not a dairy product), then he must place the coconut shells on the table. In that way, no one would suspect him of eating meat and drinking milk at the same time. However, if you happen to pass a picnic table, and you see your friend eating hamburgers together with what appears to be a glass of milk, even if you do not see any coconut shells on the table, you must nevertheless assume that what the individual is drinking is coconut milk. After all, everyone must be judged on the scale of merit.
What a different world it would be if each of us attempted to act in a manner that would preclude anyone's thinking ill of us, and at the same time, each of us would never criticize the other, always judging him or her in the most positive way possible. The only "downside" would be that our table conversations would have to be idea-oriented, rather than people-oriented, and that newspapers would have to stop printing.
Apparently, the Bible thinks it important that the tribes of Gad and of Reuven not only do what is right, but also appear to do what is right. Therefore, they cannot settle on the eastern side of Jordan-Trans-Jordan before they join what's left of the tribes in the battle for the west bank of the Jordan, where their brethren will settle. And from these words, "and you shall appear to be innocent before the Lord and before the Israelites," we learn that an individual must always conduct himself in a manner which is beyond reproach; we can never do anything that would make other people think that we did something wrong. In common religious parlance, such zealous concern that we not appear to do anything wrong is the importance of marit ayin, or literally, "the seeing eye".
But why is it so important to be concerned with what others think? I once heard from a very wise rabbi that he had to decide early on in his rabbinate whether he was out to please his congregants or to please G-d; he decided to try to please G-d, because G-d has a much better memory than his congregants would ever have. So, why isn't our Bible satisfied with our pleasing G-d? Why must we be so considerate of what others think?
I believe that the message here is not very different from the message of the one half-shekel that every Israelite must give to be counted in the census. It is one half-shekel, not a whole shekel, in order to remind each of us how dependant we are on each other, how much of an interdependent entity the Israelite nation really is. We live our daily lives in the presence of others, whose respect for us is necessary if we ourselves are to feel respectable, or worthy of respect. Our own self-image derives from how others see us. And if we do not realize our dependency on others, neither will we be sensitive to the dependency of others upon us. "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" is predicated upon this fundamental feeling of interdependence, which links every Israelite to every other Israelite.
Therefore, our sages teach us: "One who enters the Temple office to give his half-shekel should not come wearing a robe with large sleeves or with a shoe or with phylacteries or with an amulet (objects which tend to conceal stolen money) lest he become poor and people say that he was punished for having stolen from the Temple treasury or lest he become wealthy and people say that he profited from taking from the Temple treasury. Every individual must be innocent in the eyes of humanity as well as in the eyes of G-d...." (Mishnah, Shekalim 3:2) Our sages further remind us: "The family of Garmu, which had the special recipe for making the Temple Showbread that remained fresh for seven days would never serve bread on their own table, lest others think that they had taken from the Temple Showbread; similarly, the family of Avtinas, who had the special recipe for the Temple sweet-smelling incense, would never have any of their daughters walk out of the house perfumed...." (Tosefta, Yoma Chapter 2:2,6)
There is, however, a second side to this fascinating law. At the same time that the individual must be sensitive to what others think, the others must give every individual the benefit of the doubt. No one in Judaism is considered guilty unless his guilt is proven. Hence, the great Talmudic sage Resh Lakish taught, "One who is suspicious of an innocent individual is worthy of being punished on his person." (Tractate Shabbat 97a) And similarly, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perahia taught, "You must judge every human being on the scale of merit." (Mishnah, Avot 1:6)
Therefore, our normative law deals with both of these concerns at the same time. Hence, if someone wishes to drink coconut milk (which is considered to be a vegetable and not a dairy product), then he must place the coconut shells on the table. In that way, no one would suspect him of eating meat and drinking milk at the same time. However, if you happen to pass a picnic table, and you see your friend eating hamburgers together with what appears to be a glass of milk, even if you do not see any coconut shells on the table, you must nevertheless assume that what the individual is drinking is coconut milk. After all, everyone must be judged on the scale of merit.
What a different world it would be if each of us attempted to act in a manner that would preclude anyone's thinking ill of us, and at the same time, each of us would never criticize the other, always judging him or her in the most positive way possible. The only "downside" would be that our table conversations would have to be idea-oriented, rather than people-oriented, and that newspapers would have to stop printing.