Neutrality is for the dogs

When caught in the middle of a heated argument between people you know, your first instinct might be to stay out of it. But a paper published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology suggests that declaring neutrality comes with consequences. In three studies, participants were surveyed about hypothetical barroom scenarios: They were locked in a verbal dispute with someone else, and a close friend either backed them up or stayed out of it. Remaining neutral wasn't considered a problem if the friend who was stuck in the crossfire was said to be equally close to both people who were arguing. But if the friend was closer to one participant than to the other disputant, then a decision not to get involved was typically treated as a betrayal. Participants rated neutrality in that case nearly as offensive as taking the other person's side.

Stepping back from a friend's fight may be perceived as a dereliction of duty and can send a worrying message, according to Alex Shaw, a psychologist at the University of Chicago and one of the paper's authors. "If I don't take a close friend's side over an acquaintance, then to some extent, the friend is getting a signal that I think of them the way I think of an acquaintance," he says. If you must remain neutral, Shaw proposes hearing out both sides, explaining your stance, and playing the part of mediator. All are ways to communicate that you still have your friend's back.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski retells a story that in Brisk a bitter feud broke out between two groups of Jews. The Beis Halevi, Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, appealed to an influential member of the community to intervene and help bring about peace. The man declined. When the Beis Halevi reminded the man how big a mitzvah it is to promote peace, the man responded that he felt that remaining neutral was an even bigger mitzvah. Upon hearing the man extol the virtues of neutrality, the Beis Halevi shared the following Torah thought: In Parshat Bo, The Torah describes the contrast that will exist during the tenth plague. Egyptian firstborn will die causing a great cry among the Egyptians, however Bnei Yisrael will experience none of this to the degree that (11:7) “no dog shall whet its tongue”. Why does the Torah tell us this detail regarding the dogs?

The Beis Halevi explained based on a statement of the Talmud in Baba Kamma 60b: “When the Angel of Death enters a community- the dogs cry. When Eliyahu Hanavi enters a community- the dogs are playful.” On the night of the tenth plague the dogs had a problem. Since it was the night of the Jews’ redemption Eliyahu Hanavi, the harbinger of redemption, was present. But that night the firstborn were killed, so the Angel of Death must have also been present. Since the dogs didn’t know whether to be playful or to cry, they chose to remain neutral and not do anything. 

The Beis Halevi concluded that when there is an opportunity to intervene and bring about peace, remaining neutral is an option for dogs but not for intelligent human beings. While remaining neutral may at times be the easy thing to do, we should always remember the value of promoting peace and the importance of taking initiative. We should not be afraid nor reluctant to interject ourselves into a situation when we have something positive to contribute.

You Don’t Need to Walk in Anyone’s Shoes to Show Empathy

Hillel taught in Pirkei Avot (2:4) “Do not judge your fellow man until you have reached his place.” This is similar to the expression, “Don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.” We need to train ourselves to be less judgmental. From our perspective a person may be acting incorrectly or making a big mistake. However before we judge that person let us remember that that person is coming from a different place and has different experiences and different perspectives. We should be slower to judge others and quicker to try and understand them. And even when we can’t understand them we should be slow to judge and quick to help in whatever ways that we can.

While we may not be able to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes” that does not mean that we cannot empathize with people who are experiencing challenges with which we do not have personal experience or familiarity. The basis of empathy is that we should try to feel the pain of others, even if the reality is that that pain is foreign and unfamiliar to us. A therapist need have experienced every trauma in order to provide treatment to a person who is struggling with trauma. A person can pay a shiva or Bikur Cholim visit even if they have never been on the receiving end of such a chesed. This was one of Pharaoh’s mistakes. We have a tradition that the tribe of Levi was never enslaved. Some credit Yosef with this break. During the years of famine Yosef did not take over the land of the Egyptian priests. Pharaoh continued that tradition by not enslaving the tribe of Levi, who functioned in a priestly role. 

However Rabbi Yonasan Eibeschutz suggested that Pharoah had much more sinister motives. Through his sorcerers he learned that the future redeemer of Israel was destined to come from the tribe of Levi. Pharaoh believed that only a person who was subjected to slavery would have the sensitivity, empathy and motivation to lead the nation out of slavery. Pharaoh miscalculated because he did not factor in the power of empathy, often referred to in Jewish texts as “Nosei B’Ol Im Chaveiro” (the ability to share in my friend’s burden). 

Although Moshe was never enslaved, the Torah tells us that (2:11) “he went out to his brothers and perceived their burdens”. Moshe did not have to be enslaved in order to feel empathy for the Jewish slaves. The Shelah points out that Levi gave his children names that reference the slavery, even though they themselves were not enslaved. His children have names such as Gershom (“I am a stranger in a strange land”) and Merari (from the word mar, bitterness of slavery). By naming his children names that reference the slavery, Levi took concrete steps to ensure that he and his descendants would always feel and demonstrate empathy towards their fellow Jews. In the merit of this empathy Moshe became leader and the Jewish People were redeemed.  

Names Can Be Descriptive and Prescriptive

 

This week we begin reading the second book of the Chumash. Our Rabbis refer to it as Sefer Hageulah, The Book of Redemption. This name aptly describes the main topics and themes contained within: the redemption from Egyptian slavery, which is only fully realized with the construction of the Tabernacle at the end of the book.

However most of us are more familiar with the second book of the Chumash as Sefer Shemot, literally “The Book of Names”.  Besides being one of the first words of the first Parsha in the book, are there any further lessons we can derive from the name “Shemot”?

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabba) writes that one of the merits that the Jewish People accumulated throughout their years of slavery is the fact that they never changed their names. They kept their Jewish names as a way of reminding themselves that they were not part of the majority, dominant culture of Egypt.  Their Jewish names reinforced the idea that the Jewish People came from a different culture and from ancestors that had a unique relationship with G-d. Names have the power to remind us of who we are and from where we come. It is no accident that there is a widespread Jewish custom to name babies after ancestors, whether deceased or still living.

 But names have a future oriented role as well. In Parshat Lech Lecha, Hashem changed Avram’s and Sarai’s names. Rashi (on 15:5) introduces the concept of “Shem Gorem”: that a person’s name can have an impact on their destiny. Avram and Sarai would never have children. But with new names Hashem informs Avraham and Sarah that they are now ready to be parents. Names can identify a person with a unique mission and destiny.

This future oriented aspect of names needs to be reinforced. A person or institution can attain a “name”, or reputation in one of two ways: based on past performance or as a hope and challenge for future achievement. Too often we hastily attach negative names to people or institutions based on past events. For example, a student that has performed poorly in the past may improve dramatically if given positive reinforcement and labeled in a good way (ie given a new name). The same is true of adults and institutions. As we begin the book of Shemot, let us realize that names not only connect us to our past, but they can help shape our future

Never Get Used to Injustice

The Talmud (Sotah 13) teaches that when Yaakov’s family reached Mearat Hamachpela in Chevron and were about to bury him, Eisav appeared and protested, claiming that as Yitzchak’s heir he was the rightful owner of the last burial plot in the cave. Yaakov’s sons claimed that they had a document that proved Yaakov’s ownership of the plot, but the deed had been left in Egypt. Eisav insisted that proof be brought. So the brothers dispatched their speedy brother Naftali back to Egypt to retrieve the ownership deed. The Talmud continues that while the family waited for Naftali’s return, Chushim took matters into his own hands. Chushim was the son of Dan, and he was hard of hearing. Unaware of the discussions that had caused the delay, Chushim asked a family member why Yaakov had not yet been buried. After the situation was explained to him, Chushim was outraged at the thought of Yaakov’s disgrace due to a delayed burial. Out of outrage he killed EIsav thereby resolving the problem in a different, quicker way. Rabbi Chaim Shmulevitz asked: Why was Chushim the only family member who reacted? He answers that because the other family members had heard Eisav’s initial protest and then engaged in a back-and-forth negotiation with Eisav, they had become desensitized to the gravity of the disgrace that it represented for Yaakov’s to remain unburied. Their sense of outrage faded. They unwittingly became more comfortable with the situation and were therefore not inspired to react immediately. Since Chushim did not hear any of the negotiations, he felt a full sense of outrage and felt compelled to act. Rabbi Shmulevitz says that from here we can learn the danger of losing a sense of outrage. Just because we hear about mass shootings regularly on the news doesn’t mean we should ever get used to it. Just because we hear about scandals and bad behavior on a regular basis does not mean we should ever get used to it. Even if we hear everything, we can try to be like Chushim and never lose our sensitivity towards wrongdoing. We must never be indifferent to injustice.