The Swindler's Downfall
For years, he ran schemes so intricate and polished that his victims often thanked him while handing over their savings. The townsfolk saw him as a well-liked, charming man with a peculiar knack for turning a profit.
Then came the incident with Abramson, his quiet, methodical neighbor—a seemingly unremarkable accountant with aמ unexpected capacity for righteous indignation. Their quarrel started over something trivial—something about a misplaced hedge trimmer—but like all petty disputes, it escalated with remarkable speed.
“I’ll ruin him,” Plimpton whispered, his voice laced with the casual malice of a man who always delivered on his promises. And ruin Abramson he did, through a web of falsified records and a fictional development project. With the precision of a concert pianist, Plimpton orchestrated Abramson’s financial collapse,
In the aftermath, Plimpton couldn't resist savoring his victory. "I warned him," he said to his friends. "The fool challenged me, and now he's been properly instructed."
But Abramson, unlike Plimpton’s previous victims, possessed a keen understanding of human nature and the patience to apply it strategically. While Plimpton celebrated, Abramson meticulously documented every aspect of the swindler's operation and presented his findings to the entire community.
When the two men met again in the town square, Plimpton said, with a smug smile, “I did exactly what I promised, and now you’ve been ruined.”
Abramson adjusted his spectacles and replied with a thin smile. “Not entirely accurate,” he said. “Yes, I’ve lost a good chunk of my savings. But in return, I’ve stripped you of something far more valuable—your disguise. Now, everyone knows who you really are. Your career as a confidence man depends on people's trust, and that trust has just evaporated. No one will fall for your schemes again.”
Dangerous Desires
And so it is with Ta’avah—lust, the uncontrolled desire for more. The Torah tells of the infamous episode at Kivrot HaTa'avah, where the people, dissatisfied with the manna God had provided, cried out, “Give us meat to eat!”
Their demands were endless, insatiable cravings that could not be satisfied. Moses, in frustration, saw it for what it truly was: a yearning for a life of indulgence, for a hedonistic existence where everything is permissible, nothing is ever enough, and every desire must be indulged, no matter the cost.
God’s response was swift and severe. A plague struck, showing the Israelites the danger of uncontrolled desires. Many perished, and Moses named the place Kivrot HaTa’avah—the “Graves of Lust.”
But why call it Kivrot HaTa’avah? Why not Kivrot Ha-Mitavim, “The Graves of Those Who Lusted”?
The answer is instructive. It’s not about the people who succumbed to their desires, but the desires themselves. The place was called Kivrot HaTa’avah because it was a lesson on the destructive power of Ta’avah, unbridled cravings that lead us astray.
Like the exposed swindler, the consequences of uncontrolled desires were laid bare for all to see at Kivrot HaTa’avah. And so, we might say, it was Ta’avah itself that was buried there.
The relentless lust that will consume us if left unchecked—it is Ta’avah that we must bury, before it buries us.
