Re’ay 2026: The Original Influencer

by devadmin | August 6, 2026 9:51 pm

Raboyseyee and Ladies,

The Original Influencer:

A big Mazel Tov to Nussie Felder, he the son of our dear friends, Esti and Aaron Felder upon his upcoming aufruf this coming Shabbis, and the big wedding a few days later. Nussie will be marrying Yona Schulman, she the beautiful daughter of Esther and Eliyahu Schulman, they from Chicago, now living in Israel. A big mazel tov to Esti and Aaron, and to their entire beautiful and extended family. Mazel tov wishes as well to the extended Schulman family.  We look forward to participating in these great simchas. May Yona and Nussie be zoche to build a beautiful family together and enjoy marital bliss for many decades to come. 

We live in an age where influence has become its own credential. If enough people follow you, we assume you must know what you’re talking about. Popularity has become proof. Confidence has replaced competence. Charisma has replaced credibility. The bottom line: We live in the world of influencers! We have influencers who influence other influencers, who learned from influencers who were themselves influenced by someone who simply knew how to edit a thirty-second video. The frightening part is that most of us think we’re immune. “I’m too smart to fall for that.” Really? Then why do marketing companies spend billions of dollars every year hiring influencers and more recent, also micro-influencers, instead of scientists? Why do politicians chase endorsements? Why are crazy people saying really crazy things getting elected? Why do corporations pay celebrities fortunes to recommend products they’ve never used? And why are we buying some, or most of what’s being hawked?

Who is quietly shaping your opinion every single day? Who convinced you that intermittent fasting was the secret to longevity? Who convinced my friend Dovy to fast for 48 hours instead of 25 last week? Who persuaded millions that Ozempic was either a miracle drug or the beginning of the end of civilization? Who decided that seed oils would kill us, coffee would save us, sunscreen would poison us, and that vitamin D would cure everything? Who convinced an entire generation that if it’s on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, or a podcast with ten million followers, it must be true? Why do ordinary people watch Instagram and Tic Tok reels all night long? And why do we line up to buy something simply because someone famous held it up for fifteen seconds? Are we above being influenced? Fuhgeddaboudit!

Here’s another question. How many people do you follow online?  Five?  Twenty? One hundred? How many of those people have actually earned the right to influence your life? When was the last time you checked whether the person giving financial advice had ever built a successful business? Whether the nutrition expert had any medical training? Whether the relationship coach had a healthy marriage? Whether the self-proclaimed Toirah expert had actually mastered any? Ok, skip that one! Or, is a blue checkmark now the modern version of s’michah? The bottom line: Influence works. It always has. And here’s the astonishing part. Long before there was Instagram. Long before TikTok. Long before podcasts, YouTube, cable news, celebrity doctors, wellness gurus, cryptocurrency evangelists, political pundits, AI-generated experts, and social media algorithms…believe it or not, the heylige Toirah devoted a few pisukim to the influencer. Mamish azoy?

Welcome to Parshas Re’eh where among the myriad and dizzying mitzvis of every variety-55 in total according to most who count- the heylige Toirah introduces us to one of the most astonishing figures in the heylige Toirah. Imagine if I told you that the most dangerous person in this week’s parsha isn’t an idol worshipper. As an aside, we all know how much the RBSO hates avoido zoro. Moishe gives the Yiddin constant reminders. He isn’t a murderer. It isn’t Koirach. It isn’t Bilam. It isn’t even Amolake and it’s not Eisav! It’s also not Doson and Aviram, troublemakers and rabblerousers wherever they turned up. Instead, the heylige Toirah describes someone who sounds frighteningly familiar to anyone living in 2026. He is charismatic. People admire him. He has followers. He speaks confidently. He predicts the future. Sometimes, he even performs miracles. People hang on every word he says. If he lived today, he’d probably have several million followers on Instagram, TikTok, YouTube and X. His podcast would top the charts. His clips would go viral every day. That said, the heylige Toirah calls him something else. A נביא שקר. —the Novee Sheker, the false prophet. He isn’t described as an obvious fraud or a bumbling charlatan. On the contrary, the heylige Toirah contemplates someone who may perform signs and wonders that actually come true. Imagine that. His predictions are accurate. His demonstrations are compelling. His audience is captivated. The heylige Toirah doesn’t merely disagree with him. It doesn’t say, “unfollow him.” It doesn’t tell us to mute his account. It commands something astonishing. He receives the death penalty. Mamish? That should send shivers down our collective spines. Why such an extreme punishment? Hadn’t the Yiddin committed worse sins already? Is the Novee Sheker really the worst villain we’ve met so far in the heylige Toirah? Let’s harken back to bad people we’ve already encountered. Is this fellow really worse than Paroy? Worse than Koirach? Worse than the Miraglim? Worse than the people who danced around the Eigel? Worse than Amolake? What did this guy do that earns him such uncompromising treatment?

The heylige Toirah tells us that one day a man will arise. Not an idol worshipper. Not an atheist. Not a foreign king. A Novee. Or at least someone who claims to be one. The heylige Toirah calls him a “נָבִיא” or a “חֹלֵם חֲלוֹם”—a prophet or a dreamer of dreams. Then something extraordinary happens. He predicts an event. Or he performs a sign. And then, this:  “וּבָא הָאוֹת וְהַמּוֹפֵת…” “The sign or the wonder actually comes to pass.” But what the hec is an ois (not to be confused with the heylige Ois of course), and or the moifes? Let’s read the words of the parsha again: The heylige Toirah says (Devarim 13:2): וְנָתַן אֵלֶיךָ אוֹת אוֹ מוֹפֵת… וּבָא הָאוֹת וְהַמּוֹפֵת “He gives you an ois or a moifes… and the sign or wonder comes to pass.” But what is an “ois”? An ois (“sign”) generally means a prediction of a future event that later occurs exactly as foretold. For example:

And the event happens exactly as predicted. Grada, this is how a genuine prophet often establishes his credentials as well; that for another day. (Rambam, Hilchos Yesodei Ha Toirah ch. 10).

And a “moifes? “The moifes is generally understood as an extraordinary event or apparent miracle. Examples might include:

FYI: The Malbim, among others, distinguishes between an ois as a sign pointing to something and a moifes as a wonder that astonishes people.

Let’s get back to the parsha and the gentleman who predicted the sign or wonder. What happened? His prediction? It happens. His miracle? It works. Mamish the real thing. No smoke. No mirrors. No AI-generated deepfake. The heylige Toirah says it actually happened. Read that again. The heylige Toirah doesn’t say he fails. It doesn’t say he was exposed as a fraud. It doesn’t say his prediction was ridiculous. It says the sign comes true. So far so good until this prophet turns to the people and says: “נֵלְכָה אַחֲרֵי אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים…” “Let us follow other gods… let us worship them.” He got you hooked; you’re a follower and you’re now following! Are we ever! By comparison, in our times, we are mamish addicted to Instagram, to TikTok, and to sharing our favorite reels with the most relevant people; each list custom curated as if we’re sharing breaking news? Oy vey! At that point, the heylige Toirah issues one of its strongest warnings: “לֹא תִשְׁמַע…”Do not listen to him. Not because he isn’t convincing. Not because he lacks charisma. Not because his miracles are fake. But because, says the heylige Toirah, “כִּי מְנַסֶּה ה’ אֱלֹקֵיכֶם אֶתְכֶם…”—the RBSO is testing you.

Now, the real Ois has a few questions. Why would the RBSO allow such a person to exist in the first place? Doesn’t He know how weak we are? How gullible and vulnerable we are? How could someone who performs genuine signs be a fraud? If his predictions come true, why shouldn’t we believe him? And perhaps the biggest question of all…How do we know so much about the Novee Sheker when the heylige Toirah tells us almost nothing about him? No biography. No physical description. No age. No family. No personality. No explanation of how he became so persuasive. Just a few pisukim. Nu, as in many instances, when the heylige Toirah gives us little to work with, thankfully (for the Ois), the heylige Gemora, the medroshim and other exegetes always come to the rescue; the false prophet comes more to life because our holy sages devote many pages to him. The bottom line: he is considered to be one of the greatest spiritual dangers facing the Jewish People. What are we to do with this influencer guy? Ignore him? Debate him? Cancel him? Block him on WhatsApp? Unfollow him on Instagram? Run him out of town? Get him on a speaking tour with every other self-appointed expert who discovered “the truth” sometime last Tuesday? Ostracize? Punish? Kill? Pair him up with Sanders, AOC and, and now other anti-Semites to include Schumer? Put him on the DSA (Democratic Socialist) slate for office?

As it turns out, the heylige Toirah’s answer is far more dramatic than any of the above. Why taka was this guy was so hated by the RBSO? Perhaps the answer isn’t that his sin is the greatest. It’s that his sin is the most contagious. A murderer kills one person. A thief steals one fortune. A false prophet can redirect an entire nation. That’s exactly what happened with: the Eigel, with Koirach, the Meraglim, with Yerovom ben Nevot, and, later in Jewish history, with the master false prophet,  Shabsai Tzvi. One charismatic leader can lead thousands—or millions—astray. Says the heylige Gemora, “המחטיא את הרבים…” One who causes the public to sin occupies a uniquely severe category. Chazal repeatedly distinguish between someone who sins himself and someone who causes others to sin. It’s not that he himself is the greatest sinner;  it’s that he has the potential to create the greatest number of sinners. A murderer destroys one life. A thief steals one fortune. A liar deceives one victim. But a false prophet? He doesn’t merely sin. He manufactures sinners. He doesn’t simply walk away from the RBSO. He convinces others to walk away with him. That’s a completely different level of danger. Chazal named this person: “המחטיא את הרבים”—one who causes the public to sin. Perhaps that’s why the heylige Toirah treats him with such severity. The heylige Toirah isn’t frightened by one man. It’s frightened by one man…with followers. Before Moishe warned us about idolatry, he warned the Yiddin about something even more dangerous: surrendering our judgment to the wrong people.

Is the greatest idol of the twenty-first century the person holding a smartphone, speaking with absolute certainty, while millions of us quietly press the little button that says…Follow? Or Buy NOW?  Ver veyst? The heylige Toirah is not warning us about obvious deception. The heylige Toirah is warning us about convincing deception. That’s a completely different danger. If falsehood always looked ridiculous, nobody would fall for it. If every lie came wrapped in flashing warning lights, we’d all be safe. The most dangerous lies are the ones that borrow the appearance of truth. Which explains why the heylige Toirah doesn’t say, “Ignore him because he’s foolish.” It says to ignore him even if he’s convincing. Even if he’s successful. Even if he’s attracting crowds. Even if he performs what appear to be miracles. That may be one of the most radical ideas in all of Judaism. Success is not evidence. Popularity is not proof. Virality is not validation. And a million followers have never transformed falsehood into truth.

The heylige Toirah understood something that social media has almost completely forgotten: The size of an audience tells you absolutely nothing about the accuracy of the message. How often have we confused confidence with competence? How often have we assumed that someone who succeeded in one field must therefore be an expert in every field? A billionaire starts giving parenting advice. A movie star lectures us about economics. An athlete explains foreign policy. A comedian becomes a medical expert. A podcaster becomes a theologian. And millions of people nod along as though expertise were somehow transferable. Apparently, if you can hit a baseball, you also understand the Middle East. If you starred in a blockbuster movie, you must know how to solve inflation. If you built a software company, surely, you’re qualified to explain marriage, child-rearing, nutrition, and religion. When did that happen? Who voted for these people? The heylige Toirah anticipated this human weakness thousands of years ago. We are naturally drawn to confidence. We instinctively equate success with wisdom.

At this point, I can almost hear someone objecting. “Givaldig, Ois. We all agree not to follow a Novee Sheker. But how am I supposed to know he’s a Novee Sheker until it’s too late? Excellent question.  Because the heylige Toirah doesn’t hand out warning labels. Nobody walks around with a sticker on their forehead that reads: WARNING: FALSE PROPHET. Instead, the heylige Toirah presents us with a far more difficult challenge. It forces us to judge the message, not the messenger. Read the pisukim carefully. The heylige Toirah doesn’t tell us to reject him because his miracles are fake. in fact, they may not be fake at all. It doesn’t tell us to reject him because he’s unintelligent. Or because he’s unpopular. Or because he’s obviously corrupt. It tells us to reject him because of one sentence: “נֵלְכָה אַחֲרֵי אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים…” “Let us follow other gods…” The bottom line: The heylige Toirah is teaching us that the standard isn’t: Is he impressive? The standard is: Does his message remain loyal to the RBSO and the heylige Toirah? Gishmak! Judaism does not evaluate truth by asking: How many books has he sold? How many subscribers does she have? How many standing ovations does he receive? How many podcasts invite her back? How many private jets does he own? How many celebrities quote him? How many miracles are attributed to him?  Imagine if were to judge Avrohom Ovenu today by that metric. How many followers? One. Engagement? Pretty weak. Sponsorship deals? None. But he changed civilization. Today we’d reject him because he isn’t verified.

In our times, the worst thing that happens to a bad influencer is that he gets “cancelled.” Cancel culture. Say the wrong thing. Post the wrong video. Endorse the wrong product. Within hours your sponsors disappear faster than the chulent at the shul kiddish. Your podcast is suddenly taking a short break. Your followers move on to the next shiny object. The apology video has comments turned off. Maybe he changes his profile picture, grows a beard, moves to Dubai, and starts all over again. Ober the heylige Toirah cancels him permanently. That’s a jarring transition. If the Novee Sheker walked into our shul today, he’d likely have a podcast, a million followers, a bestselling book, a merch store, three sponsors, and a team making sure his next reel drops at exactly 7:30 p.m. The heylige Toirah’s question has never been: Do you have influence? The question is: Where are you leading people? If astray, in ‘Cancel Culture, Toirah Style,’ it’s וּמֵת הַנָּבִיא הַהוּא… He dies. Not suspended. Not demonetized. Not “temporarily restricted.” Executed. The Toirah doesn’t execute him because he predicted tomorrow’s weather. Nor because he performed a miracle. Nor because he was persuasive. His crime begins only with five devastating words:  נֵלְכָה אַחֲרֵי אֱלֹהִים אֲחֵרִים  “Let’s go after other gods.” Those five words reveal everything. He’s not attacking the RBSO directly. He’s attacking trust.  The final bottom lines: The heylige Toirah isn’t terrified of one sinner; It’s terrified of a sinner with followers. Every generation has had sinners. Not every generation has had influencers. The Novee Sheker was both. Three thousand years ago people followed a false prophet because he performed miracles.  Today they’ll follow someone because he has 4.7 million followers and really good lighting. Ring lights are the modern-day אות ומופת. The real Novee says: “Don’t follow me. Follow the RBSO.” The influencer often says: “Follow me.” One points away from himself. The other often points toward himself.

The standard isn’t: “Is he impressive? “The standard is: Does his message remain loyal to heylige Toirah? Judaism does not evaluate truth by asking: How many books has he sold? How many subscribers does she have? How many standing ovations does he receive How many podcasts invite her back? How many private jets does he own? How many celebrities quote him? How many miracles are attributed to him?  The only question that ultimately matters is: Does what he is teaching bring us closer to the RBSO—or further away? Everything else is background noise. That sounds obvious. Until we examine our own lives. How often have we accepted advice because it was delivered confidently? How often have we mistaken certainty for wisdom? The only question that ultimately matters is: Does what he is teaching bring us closer to the RBSO—or further away? Everything else is background noise. That sounds obvious ober let’s get real: How often have we accepted advice because it was delivered confidently? How often have we mistaken certainty for wisdom? How often have we confused confidence with competence?

Let’s close with this: while in-flight back to New York last night and typing these words, I had wanted to compare todays antisemites to the Nivei Sheker but it’s not a perfect comparison. Because the Novee Sheker is a specific Toirah category: someone claiming prophetic authority and trying to lead the Yiddin away from the RBSO. That said, the comparison I can make is this: The heylige Toirah identified the danger of charismatic influencer long before social media existed. The same psychological mechanism is at work today. We tend to think that the Novee Sheker belongs in the ancient world. A man with a long beard. Flowing robes. Standing on a mountain claiming to have spoken to G-d. Perhaps we’ve misunderstood the Toirah. Maybe the Toirah isn’t merely warning us about one individual who lived thousands of years ago. Maybe it’s warning us about a human weakness that never changes. Human beings have always been attracted to charismatic personalities. We confuse confidence with credibility. We mistake passion for truth. We assume that if millions are listening, there must be something worth hearing. Ober, let’s fast-forward three thousand years and replace the desert with a smartphone. Let’s also replace the crowds gathered around a prophet with fifty million followers on TikTok, Instagram, YouTube or X. let’s replace the town square with a podcast downloaded twenty million times. The technology has changed. Human nature hasn’t. Look around the world today. Some of the loudest voices spewing hatred against Jews are not wearing military uniforms. They aren’t heads of state. They’re influencers. Podcasters. Rappers. Comedians. Social media personalities. Political commentators. Celebrities whose greatest qualification is that millions of people have decided to listen to them. Every day they repeat half-truths, distortions and outright lies about Israel, about Jews and about Judaism. Within minutes, those lies are viewed by tens of millions of people. Before lunchtime, they’re repeated in universities. By dinner, they’re chanted in the streets. One charismatic voice, millions of willing ears. The heylige Toirah understood that danger long before the first smartphone was invented. Here’s the frightening part. Suppose one of those influencers suddenly announced tomorrow morning that he had seen a miracle. Suppose he predicted three events…and all three happened. Would that suddenly make his hatred true? The heylige Toirah answers with one unequivocal word: No. The heylige Toirah understood the extraordinary power of charismatic influence centuries before algorithms, podcasts and social media. The Novee Sheker is the Toirah’s classic example of how a persuasive personality can lead multitudes away from truth.

 

A gittin Shabbis!

The Heylige Oisvorfer Ruv

Yitz Grossman

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