Our insatiable hunger for honour

One of the deepest human desires is the need to be recognised, respected, and honoured by others. While this craving may begin subtly, it often grows stronger with age and can become a dangerous force if left unchecked. As American Rabbi Yissocher Frand wisely observed, “What candy is to a child, kavod is to an adult.” Human beings naturally long for recognition, but Judaism warns us that this desire can cloud our judgement and lead us away from truth and responsibility. 

Our sages famously teach in Pirkei Avos that “jealousy, physical desire, and the pursuit of honour remove a person from this world”. This does not merely refer to the next world, but to the loss of perspective and common sense in this world. When a person becomes consumed by honour or status, they can no longer think clearly or make balanced decisions. 

A powerful example of this appears in this week’s Torah reading, where the meraglim, the spies, were sent to scout the land of Israel. According to the Zohar, the spies were leaders of the Jewish people who feared that entering the land of Israel would cost them their positions of prominence. In the desert they held authority and influence, but in the new reality of the land, they might lose their status. 

This fear affected the way they viewed the land itself. Subconsciously, they interpreted everything negatively and delivered a discouraging report to the nation. Their desire for honour distorted their perception of reality and led to disastrous consequences for the Jewish people. This teaches us how the desire for honour can quietly distort our opinions and decisions without us even realising it. 

A similar lesson emerges from a famous story about Rabbi Yonason Eibshitz, one of the greatest Torah scholars of the 18th century. After being appointed rabbi of the city of Altona in Germany, Rabbi Eibshitz tried to arrive there in time for Yom Kippur. However, he did not make it and had to spend Yom Kippur in a small nearby town. During Mincha on erev Yom Kippur, he noticed a man who appeared exceptionally humble and devout. The man cried intensely during the Viduy confession, especially while reciting the words “I am but dust in my lifetime”. 

Rabbi Eibshitz was deeply impressed and chose to sit beside him throughout Yom Kippur. However, during the Torah reading, the man was offered the fifth aliya. Furious, he lashed out at the gabbai, insulted others who had received earlier honours, and rejected the aliya entirely. 

After davening, Rabbi Eibshitz asked how someone who prayed so humbly before Hashem could react with such anger over an honour in shul. The man replied, “Before Hashem I am nothing, but compared to those people, I am greater.” 

This troubling response captures a weakness found within all human beings. Judaism therefore calls upon us to constantly examine our motivations and guard ourselves against the craving for recognition. 

True greatness, and the ability to make clear and honest decisions, is not measured by titles or honours, but by humility, integrity, and the ability to serve Hashem without seeking applause from others.