The sense of justice that fills us, as individuals and as a public, blocks us from listening to criticism, from seeing flaws, from understanding that others also have points of light and beauty. • Rabbi Menachem Brod's column
Our streets are full of righteous people. They are so sure that they are right that they block roads, vandalize entrances to houses, set cars on fire and climb onto roofs. On the other side, there are also righteous people, who are completely clear that their path is the right one, and that any deviation from it is a tragic mistake.
We love to be right. All justice, all truth, all honesty – only with us. Only the other person has shortcomings. He needs to take stock. He needs to mend his ways. Us?! What the hell! We are the just, the beautiful, the perfect.
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To receive reprimand and criticism
The sense of justice that fills us, as individuals and as a public, blocks us from listening to criticism, from seeing flaws, from understanding that others also have points of light and beauty. We are so right that before we have had time to listen and internalize any comment, we have already rushed to return fire and attack. We remain right, but we have learned nothing.
Then we gather in the dead of night to recite the Shelichot, and all the covering of righteousness with which we have covered ourselves dissolves at once. With bowed heads and trembling hearts we declare: "To you, O Lord, is righteousness, and to us is shame.' It turns out that we are not so righteous, and perhaps we are not even beautiful and perfect – "Not by mercy nor by works have we come before you, as poor and needy have we smitten your hands.".
Those who truly want to rise and advance do not wrap themselves in the cloak of righteousness, but rather strive to learn from others and accept rebuke and criticism. Some of the great men of Israel appointed themselves a 'reprover' – a person whose job it was to deliver words of rebuke and morals to that great man in Israel. They did not see this as a lack of respect; quite the opposite.
It is told about the 'Sefat Emet' from Gur that as a child he had a habit of studying in the morning with his grandfather, the author of 'Chiddushei Ri'am'. Once he studied with a friend all night, and went to bed early in the morning. As a result, he was a few minutes late for a lesson with his grandfather. The grandfather reprimanded him for sleeping too much and being lazy to get up on time, and he stood with his head bowed and listened to the words of the teacher. Afterwards, the friend asked why he did not tell his grandfather that he had studied all night. The boy responded: "I did not want to miss Grandpa's precious words of rebuke.".
The armor of justice is cracked.
Chazal say that one of the grave evils of the period of 'Ekveta Damshicha' is 'no reproof' - no ability to utter words of rebuke. Because when one remarks to his friend, "Take a thorn out of your teeth," the other immediately retorts, "Take a beam out of your eyes." In this way, everyone remains right, but very unwise.
A Hasidic proverb says that the advice for this situation is "Let us search our ways and investigate, and bring it to the Lord.' As long as one accuses the other, one will be left with a toothpick between his teeth and the other with a beam between his eyes. But if we take the approach of "let us search our ways" – let us search for the path together, acknowledge the fact that we are not perfect and that not all justice is in our hands – then "we will lay the beam'; that beam will rest and fall from standing as a wedge between us.
The days of forgiveness pierce our armor of justice, opening our hearts to listen to others, and this is the key to correction, connection, and a good and sweet year.
