Giving Respect
Feb 13th, 2011 | By admin | Category: 2005-6, Archivesby Rabbi Yisrael Rutman
Between Passover and Shavuot, a semi-mourning period is observed (no weddings, no haircuts) in remembrance of the plague which wiped out Rabbi Akiva’s disciples. The Talmud informs us that the reason for the tragedy was that they did not sufficiently honor one another.* It is fitting, therefore, to use this time as an opportunity think about how we can better treat others. What follows are a few thoughts on the subject:
The Sages say that “just as everyone’s face is different, so too their perspectives are different.” The Hebrew word for face is panim, which also means inside. This is because the human face reflects the inner being, his thoughts and feelings. Because we are all different on the inside, so are we all different on the outside.
The Kotzker Rebbe added: We do not find all faces handsome or pleasing. The shape, the complexion, the proportions do not always meet our aesthetic standards. Nevertheless, we cannot but acknowledge that though we may dislike the face, it is still a face, we can’t deny its existence. Likewise, he said, the opinions of others often conflict with our own. But as wrong as we think they are, we should respect their existence, and not try to deny or quash them.
Sometimes it’s not just an opinion at stake; it’s reputation, career, money, livelihood. The Sages say that it is natural for a tradesman to hate his fellow tradesmen. Thus, the Torah enjoins us, V’ahavta l’reacha k’mocha, Love your fellow like yourself. That is, you are to love your fellow who is, like yourself, engaged in the same livelihood (Leviticus 19:18).
How can one overcome these poisonous feelings of competition? The concluding phrase of that same verse contains the answer: Ani Adokai (I am G-d). In other words, if you realize that success in life is ultimately dependent not on your superior talent or intelligence, but on G-d’s blessing, and that nothing can be taken away from you that has been ordained from Above, then the natural anxiety and animus of competition can be stilled (Pardes Yosef). For if i realize that I am not threatened by anyone else’s success, then I can afford to be generous.
When Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Shapira passed away this week, much was written about his profound Torah wisdom, but also his consideration for others. Great rabbis are also human beings, and they aren’t immune to the pitfalls of ego. He was an original thinker, yet, his writings are known for the frequency with which he credits others, whether they be famous men or obscure yeshiva students.
As a writer, I know how difficult it is to read the work of other writers impartially. I am always suspicious of my own ulterior motives when I want to criticize. I have to ask myself: Is it because I love the truth and high literary standards—or because I hate the competition?
There is another issue too. Even if my criticism is not motivated by a subconscious desire to trash the competition, how am I to know that my view is correct? I could undermine somebody else’s chances for success with my misjudgment, especially if it’s published somewhere.
It’s a wonder to me that some people have made their careers as literary attack artists. The history of art and literature is replete with critical misjudgment. Keats was savaged by the reigning poetry critics; and Van Gogh was ignored to death.
Yankee From Olympus, the biography of Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, tells of the contemporary reaction to the speeches given at the consecration of the cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania during the Civil War. Lincoln’s speech was printed in the newspapers alongside that of the president of Harvard, Edward Everett Horton. The consensus in hometown Boston was that Horton’s speech was by far the better one. Of course, Lincoln’s little ten-liner became immortalized as the Gettysburg Address, while Horton’s words were fated for obscurity. Who even remembers Horton?
In more recent times, the first Harry Potter book was turned down by a long list (about 15, I think) of publishing companies before someone “took a chance” with it. The author of Schindler’s List had been pestering Hollywood bigshots for years before Steven Speilberg agreed to read the script and realized its potential.
You just never can be sure of these things. Why take a chance, then, on voicing criticism of somebody else’s work and doing harm? As a wise man once said, not everything that is thought needs to be said, not everything that’s said needs to be written down, and not everything that’s written down is worth reading.
*Although the punishment may seem to us as extremely harsh, it can be understood according to the principle that God is far more exacting with those who are on the highest levels of holiness than He is with ordinary people. Rabbi Akiva’s disciples, leading members of the generation of the Tannaim, the great scholars/saints who transmitted the Oral Law for all the generations, were of just such stature.
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