Did you ever see somebody do something so foolish, or make an argument that is so nonsensical, yet he was convinced that he was correct and that anybody who disagreed was the fool?
I’ve seen this, on more occasions than I care to, or can, count.
Why do people do this? Why do people act and speak in so foolish ways, without ever considering that they are wrong?
The answer to this question is what I believe to be the single most common thing that prevents us from reaching greatness, and that is our innate biases, our natural, instinctive tendency to approve of everything we do, say and think.
אתה האיש
Perhaps the best way to illustrate this problem is through one of the most sensitive, controversial stories in the entire Tanach – the story of David and Batsheva.
One evening, David was taking a stroll on the rooftop of his palace when he saw an attractive woman. He had his men bring him this woman, who turned out to be married. David then ordered his general to station this woman’s husband at the front lines in battle so he would be killed, and David then married the widow. The particulars of this story are subject to a great deal of discussion, and already the Talmud points out that from a technical standpoint, Batsheva was not legally married to her husband at that time, and thus David did not actually commit an act of adultery.
What concerns us here, however, is the scathing message which Hashem delivered to David after this incident through the prophet, Natan.
Natan approached David and told him a story. There was a very wealthy man who owned large herds of animals, and nearby lived a destitute man who lived alone and had nothing other than a single sheep. The man had a close connection to this sheep, as it was really all he owned. One day, guests arrived at the wealthy man’s home, and instead of taking one of his hundreds of animals to prepare meat to serve his guests, he decided instead to steal his indigent neighbor’s lone sheep. He seized the sheep, slaughtered it, and served the meat to his guests.
After relating this story, Natan turned to David and asked him how this wealthy man should be punished for his heinous crime. Without a second thought, David proclaimed that this man deserved death for committing such an unspeakable act of cruelty.
Natan responded with what might be the two most powerful words ever uttered by the prophets: אתה האיש – “You are that man.” He proceeded to convey Hashem’s strong condemnation of what David did. Like the wealthy man in the story, David was a rich, powerful man, with several wives and great wealth, and yet he allowed himself to take the wife of a simple citizen.
When David heard of somebody else doing what he did, he instantly declared the act to be a capital offense. But when he himself committed such an act, he did not realize its severity. David was one of the greatest, most righteous people who ever lived, and yet on this occasion, he fell victim to his biases, doing the very thing which he considered a grave sin when committed by others.
I openly confess to have done this on so many occasions. I recall getting so upset when somebody at the table wasn’t careful and accidently knocked over a glass – and then doing the exact same thing myself. There were times when I found myself seething when hearing somebody make a foolishly insensitive remark to mourners at a shivah home, and then carelessly making the same mistake myself when visiting other mourners just a few weeks later.
I believe this is the biggest reason why we fail to achieve to our potential – because we don’t see our flaws that we need to correct. We are innately biased in favor of what we do, what we think, what we believe, what we say and how we act. It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that we are wrong, that something we’ve done is wrong, that the way we’ve been doing things for years is wrong, that we have a bad habit, that we act and talk foolishly. This is very difficult to accept, and so we intuitively defend everything we do even as we criticize others for doing the same thing.
This is the greatest obstacle to growth. If we always assume we’re doing the right thing, we will never improve.
This is not to say that we are bad people. Of course we aren’t. We are all good people with much to be proud of. But if we are honest with ourselves, we will all admit that we can be even better. And the process of becoming better begins with recognizing that we act and speak in ways that we shouldn’t, and in ways that we should change.
So what’s the solution to this problem? How do we overcome our innate biases, our predisposition to defend everything we say and do, and to always assume we’re right? Our brains are hardwired to think this way – how do we change that?
Seek Advice
I believe that this question is the subject of a famous Mishnah in Pirkeh Avot, the classic collection of rabbinic teachings which is customarily studied during this period, between Pesach and Shavuot. In the first chapter of Pirkeh Avot, we find the following, somewhat perplexing, comment cited in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perachya:
עשה לך רב וקנה לך חבר, והוי דן את כל האדם לכף זכות.
Make for yourself a Rabbi and acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person favorably.
This Mishnah seems difficult to understand, for several reasons. First, why are we urged to “make” for ourselves a Rabbi, but to “acquire” for us a friend? What is the difference between the two? Moreover, what is the connection between these instructions, and the instruction to judge all people favorably?
Let us go through each clause of the Mishnah, step by step, and then the answers to these questions will become clear.
The instruction עשה לך רב does not mean only to ensure to have a Rabbi from whom to receive halachic guidance. It goes well beyond that. It means that we should be humbly and openly seeking advice from people with more experience than us in whatever it is that we are doing.
How many young couples expecting their first child reach out to their parents, or to other experienced parents, for advice? How many 20-somethings who look to open their own business reach out to one of the countless successful businessmen in our community for advice on how to go about it? I’ve been in the “Rabbi business” now for a very long time, and I can hardly think of one occasion when a young Rabbi entering the field reached out to me for advice on public speaking and other aspects of the job.
Most of us are simply too arrogant, or too concerned about our pride, to seek advice. We’d rather delude ourselves into thinking that we know what we’re doing than to concede that we have much to learn from others.
Hashem Himself taught us the importance of getting advice. When He was about to create Adam, the Torah writes, Hashem proclaimed, נעשה אדם – “Let us make man.” Rashi explains that G-d “consulted,” as it were, with the angels in heaven before deciding to create a human being. Quite obviously, G-d does not need anybody’s advice for anything. He created everything in existence, including the angels, and so He is infinitely wiser than they. But He “consulted” with them, Rashi explains, in order to teach us about humility, about the need to be open and eager to receive other people’s input and advice.
There is also an additional implication of the teaching עשה לך רב. It tells us to turn ordinary situations into “teachers,” into sources of information and guidance.
When we see somebody who is successful in some area, our instinct is to either feel jealous, or to assume that the person has had good luck, was born with some unique talent, or circumstances worked in his favor. עשה לך רב tells us that when we see somebody successful, we should make that person’s success into our “teacher.” If we see a couple with a beautiful marriage, we should try to figure out what they do that makes their marriage so successful. If we see a couple that produces outstanding children, we should try to find out how they are able to raise such great kids. If we somebody who is successful in business, there is no shame whatsoever in approaching him and asking if he can sit down and share some advice. עשה לך רב – we must go make teachers for ourselves, seeking guidance and instruction from the people around us. If we see somebody doing something admirable, we should learn from it and try to emulate his or her example. The world around us offers us countless learning opportunities, and the Mishnah here admonishes us to take advantage of them.
This is the first thing we can do to step outside our innate biases so that we can grow – keep our minds open to learning from other people and seeking their guidance.
True Friendship
The second step is קנה לך חבר – “acquiring” a friend. And “acquiring” a friend is not the same as “making” a friend.
I once received a phone call from somebody with whom I am quite close, who did not like a speech I had given. He was very open and direct with his criticism, telling me straight out that I should not have said what I said. During the conversation, he said, “Rabbi, I am doing this only because I am your friend.”
And he was right. He was very sincere. If he did not care about me, he would have just left it alone. But a true friend cannot leave these things alone, and is prepared to endure the unpleasantness of expressing criticism when he or she feels it is warranted.
This is the difference between “making” a friend and “acquiring” a friend. When we acquire something, it is ours permanently, until we decide to dispose of it. True friendship is achieved when both parties feel confident that it won’t be broken by a word of constructive criticism and advice. In a solid, stable friendship, one party will have the confidence to tell the other what he thinks he is doing wrong, not worrying about what this uncomfortable conversation will do to the relationship.
We all need these kinds of friends – friends who will not be afraid to correct us when we’re wrong, to show us that we’re making a mistake, to point out when we’ve said or done something foolish.
The most important “friends” that we have for this purpose are our family members. Husbands and wives should not feel threatened or resentful when hearing criticism from one another. Of course, the criticism must be expressed respectfully and gently. But our spouse is the single most important “friend” we have who can help us see outside our innate biases and look at our behavior from a different perspective. This is also true of our children. As our children get older, they can serve as a very important source of guidance and advice. They can see things about us that we can’t because of our natural biases, and so we should welcome their observations, even when they are difficult and unpleasant to hear.
We should never resent criticism or advice; to the contrary, we should embrace it as precious opportunities to see ourselves objectively, which is the critical, indispensable first step to growth.
Don’t Shoot the Messenger
This brings us to the Mishnah’s concluding remark: הוי דן את כל האדם לכף זכות.
My first experience in public speaking came when my father became Rabbi of a small synagogue in Deal, and every now and then on Shabbat he would ask me to give a devar Torah at se’udah shelishit. Back then, this made me really nervous. Knowing that I would need to speak before a crowd – even a modest crowd – made me very tense and anxious. There were times when I was hardly able to eat the entire Shabbat because I was nervous about the speech I needed to give at se’udah shelishit.
On one occasion, when I was still very new at this, after I gave the devar Torah at se’udah shelishit and we prayed Arvit, just before the hazan recited Havdalah, one of the most prominent lay leaders of the community came over to me, and, with everybody listening, starts lacing into me. He went on and on, for about ten minutes, angrily condemning virtually every aspect of my devar Torah. After Havdalah, he resumed, with a vengeance. (In all fairness, he did throw in one really nice compliment amid the tirade, which I appreciated.)
I was mortified and shaken to my core. For three days, I found it difficult to breathe.
Later, as I looked back, I realized that this was a very valuable experience. No, what he did cannot possibly be justified. This is no way to speak to anybody, certainly not to a Rabbi, and embarrassing a young, inexperienced Rabbi that way is inexcusable. But this did not change the fact that several of the points he made were valid and were things that I indeed needed to hear. I learned from them how to be better. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was very beneficial to me.
This story, I believe, conveys a very powerful lesson to all of us, telling us not to “shoot the messenger.” Even if we have good reason to not like the messenger, the message might be valuable.
So often, when we hear criticism or unsolicited advice, our instinctive reaction is to dismiss it by finding fault in the “messenger.” If the person spoke hurtfully or disrespectfully, we react by resenting the way the words were spoken. If the person is somebody whom we do not particularly like or admire, we dismiss the criticism because of who that person is. But these reactions, while being perfectly natural and understandable, are very foolish. The fact that we don’t like the person or the way the person spoke does not necessarily mean that we shouldn’t take to heart what he or she said. If there’s any truth to what the person said – and, very often, there is – then we can only benefit from taking it seriously and accepting the criticism. Just because the person is rude and impolite does not mean that his observations are off-mark.
And this might be the meaning of the Mishnah’s final remark: הוי דן את כל האדם לכף זכות. The Mishnah is telling us to look favorably on those who offer us criticism. Our instinct is to resent them, to dislike them, to defend ourselves, to insist that we’re right, and to dismiss their right to say anything about what we do. But the Mishnah is telling us to react differently. No matter what we think of them, hear what they have to say and take it to heart. That community leader who berated me in front of a room full of people acted wrongly, but there is no question in my mind that he was Hashem’s messenger sent to help me improve. This is certainly not how I felt about it at the time, but later, after I calmed down, in retrospect, it was so clear. And this should be our attitude whenever we are criticized, courteously or otherwise. Rarely is the criticism totally out of place. Far more often than not, there is at least a kernel of truth, and many times there is more than just a kernel. If we are serious about growth, then we need to be open to the message no matter who the messenger is and no matter how painfully it was transmitted to us. A bitter pill is difficult to swallow, but if it helps us, we should swallow it – and this is precisely how we should we react to criticism.
The next time we feel like saying to somebody who criticized us, “Who do you think you are?” let’s remember who this person is – Hashem’s messenger who was sent to help us grow. Whether or not we feel the person is worthy of this lofty role, and whether or not the person went about it the right way, this is the truth – Hashem sent that person to us so we can look at ourselves from outside the narrow confines of our own biases. Criticism and advice are precious gifts, because without them, we will always see our conduct from our own perspective, which is, by nature, predisposed to defend and approve of everything we do. Let us, then, embrace criticism, rather than reject it, so we can continue to grow and improve, and become just a little bit better each day of our lives.