Rashi notes that the pasuk which addresses the sin committed by the Nasi/leader of the people begins with the word “asher,” whereas the previous pesukim began with the word “im,” if. He cites the Sifra that says that the word “asher” alludes to “ashrei,” fortunate. This implies that a generation whose leadership is concerned and seeks atonement — even for their unknown sins — is truly fortunate. The Noam Elimelech gives insight into the “good fortune” of the generation whose leader atones for the sins. A distance, an insurmountable breach, exists between the tzaddik, the righteous, pious man, and the common Jew who from time to time, falls prey to sin. How is the tzaddik to help his lost brother? How is he to reach out to him and bring him back? It may be compared to one who has fallen into a pit filled with dung and filth. As he sinks deeper and deeper into the quagmire that is slowly swallowing him up, he cries out for help, pleading for his life. In order to pull him out and save him, the rescuer must himself become slightly dirty. He must bend over into the pit and reach out to help his friend in need.
It is the same with regard to helping a fellow Jew who is drowning in sin. The tzaddik has to reach in and, at times, get himself dirty. Hashem facilitates the tzaddik by having him err unintentionally, by availing him a sin that is insignificant by common standards. Suddenly the tzaddik is no longer on an untouchable pedestal. He has gotten his feet slightly dirty in the pit. Now, however, he is in the proximity of the Jew who has sunken into the pit. He can now reach out and help. Since the common Jew is not able to attain the tzaddik’s spiritual distinction, it is up to the tzaddik to “bend down” and lift up his fellow man.
We find tzaddikim who are willing to relinquish their portion in Olam Habah in order to save another Jew from spiritual and even material loss. There is a story told about Rav Baruch M’Meziboz, who was sitting at a festive meal surrounded by his chassidim, when unexpectedly the door opened and a famous wealthy member of the community entered, seeking the Rebbe’s advice. Instead of greeting the guest with the usual respect accorded to distinguished visitors, the Rebbe disparaged the man mercilessly, denigrating and humiliating him in front of the assemblage. He ended his tirade by having the man thrown out of the house. Needless to say, all those who witnessed this occurrence were dumbfounded in disbelief at the Rebbe’s actions. One of those assembled gathered up enough courage to ask the Rebbe for an explanation. After all, do Chazal not say that if one publicly embarrasses another Jew, he loses his portion in Olam Habah? The Rebbe responded that when the wealthy man entered his home, he saw a cloud of severe punishment hovering over him. To spare him the pain and anguish that he would suffer, the Rebbe humiliated him unsparingly, hoping to eliminate this terrible gzar din, decree. He was willing to surrender his own portion in Olam Habah in order to help another Jew. It is truly tragic when we realize how frequently people humiliate someone for much less significant cause.
