Rosh Hashanah sermon
Rosh Hashanah: September 30, 2008/5769
Rabbi Jeffrey Summit

Rosh Hashanah begins and this is the image the rabbis use to convey the importance of the day: We entering a courtroom and we prepare to stand in judgment for all of our deeds of the past year. It’s supposed to feel unsettling. As you approach the bench, you think: Have I been responsible to my friends? Have I acted with integrity and honesty in my work and in my studies? Have I been there when I’ve been needed by my family in the course of the past year? Metaphorically, we stand before Avenu malkenu, our father, the king, and admit what we’ve done wrong. We resolve to act differently. We hope and pray that we’ll be forgiven and we’ll be able to experience a hatimah tovah, a positive resolution that allows us to start this year anew.

But often, as we review the year that we’ve just completed, we are not only thinking about our own actions. Our thoughts also turn to others and we review how they have acted towards us. What happens when another person has caused us hurt and pain but hasn’t acknowledged or apologized for their actions? What do we do when we are waiting, hoping, that they will come forward so that we can set things right with them and heal the pain when there’s a tear in the fabric of a friendship?

So, I want to tell you a story, a difficult story that happened to me last year. I have a friend who now lives in California, someone I think of as a truly wise woman. We don’t see each other that often since she’s moved across the county, but she is still really helpful when I’m dealing with a difficult issue in work or in life in general. And she’ll call me too when she needs to talk about things. So last year, one of those complicated issues came up and I called her, got her voice mail and left her a message about the problem I was dealing with. I asked if she could call me back. A week went by and I never heard from her. A couple weeks later, after I had figured out how to address the problem I had called her about, I left her a follow up message saying that I had solved this issue but whenever she had a chance, it would be good to talk. Still, no response. Well, I know enough to know that sometimes people get crazy busy or they’re traveling. No deep harm done. But about a month after that, I picked up the phone again and this time left a message with her secretary, who promised to make sure she got the message, but I still didn’t hear back from her. Now I was getting angry. We were real friends! When she had called me in the past, I had always answered her phone calls. What was happening here?

This morning, I want to continue speaking about forgiveness, specifically about forgiving others. By definition, being in relationship with our friends, with our family requires being able to forgive people when they hurt you, unintentionally or even intentionally. Without apologies and forgiveness, no long-term relationship can endure. But how does Jewish law treat the situation when a person has hurt or injured you but has not apologized? How do you approach and confront that person? Our tradition has a great deal to say in regard to that situation.

In the book of Leviticus (19:17), the Torah says, “You shall not hate your fellow person in your heart. In fact, you should rebuke that person and bear no guilt because of them.” Let’s learn some Talmud together and see how the rabbis examine and interpret this verse. I’m drawing all of this material from Tractate Arachin in the Babylonian Talmud.

So, the first phrase that the rabbis focus on is “in your heart.” They ask, why does the Torah state not to hate someone in your heart? Wouldn’t it be enough just to say, “don’t hate your fellow person.” They answer that if the Torah just said, “don’t hate someone,” you might think that meant don’t hit them or strike them, that is, don’t act hatefully towards them. But hating in your heart means that if someone hurts you, don’t keep it bottled up inside. Not speaking about the person’s wrongdoing is the most damaging thing you can do, both for a relationship and in a community. So what’s the answer for that difficult situation, when you are feeling hatred in your heart towards another? According to the rabbis, the answer is found in the continuation of the verse: don’t hate someone silently if they have wronged you. Instead, you are obligated to talk to them and be willing to offer constructive criticism in regard to their actions.

Now, the rabbis weren’t naïve in thinking that this was an easy thing to do. They knew full well how difficult this is in actuality. In the middle of this discussion in the Talmud, Rabbi Tarfon throws up his hands and says, “I wonder if there is anybody in this generation who knows how to accept criticism!? To that, his colleague Elazar ben Azaria replies, “No, that’s not the problem. The problem is that no one is so skilled and sensitive that they know how to deliver the criticism so the offending person will hear it.” In the 12th century, Maimonides picks up on this Talmudic discussion and provides a scenario for approaching and criticizing someone. He asks, in practice, how do you actually do the rebuking?

First, Maimonides says, it is important to look into your own heart and carefully examine why you are angry. Pre-dating the Freudian idea of transference by some 800 years, Maimonides implies that many times when we are angry at someone, we are actually seeing in them our own traits, things about ourselves that annoy or anger us. Maimonides stresses that even though you felt hurt by a person’s actions, the point of rebuking another has little to do with you. The goal should be to help the person you’re speaking with become a better person. So first, we think very carefully about why we are offering criticism.

Next, Maimonides stresses that we should speak softly and gently to the person. The Rabbis teach that words that go from the heart enter the heart. Yelling or sarcasm undermines the purpose of the rebuke. But even more importantly, our tradition stresses that if we are angry with someone, we should always speak to them privately. It is forbidden in Jewish law to embarrass someone publicly. In the Talmud, the rabbis make a pun on the word l’hitadaim, to make someone blush. Within this word is the Hebrew word dam, meaning blood. They say, to embarrass a person publicly is the same as murder, that it, spilling their blood.

This process of rebuke is hard, but the rabbis knew we have little alternative if we wished to create peace in relationships and societies. If you refuse to speak to someone when you are angry with them, those feelings will eventually surface. In fact, we know this is true. Pay attention to the times when you are angry at someone but you tell yourself, “Oh, I’ll just ignore it. It will only start a fight if I bring it up.” More often than not, you’ll find yourself yelling or snipping at your friend over some trivial matter, when the underlying reason is the issue you have chosen not to address.

Finally, Maimonides says that we are obligated to be persistent in our criticism, repeating it until the person comes back at you and refuses to listen. The verse in the Torah teaches that we should, “incur no guilt because of them.”

Now that phrase, “incur no guilt because of them” is problematic. If another person is doing wrong, how would you incur guilt? The rabbis give two explanations for this phrase. The first refers to the situation we have just been discussing. If you criticize someone publicly and humiliate them, or if you speak to them too harshly, then you are the one who is committing a wrong. You bear guilt for the manner in which you have chosen to confront them. But there is a different conclusion as well.

That explanation is if you remain silent and passive while someone else does evil, you share in their guilt. Jewish tradition teaches that you are obligated to encourage other people to act morally. The Talmud goes so far as to say that if you can stop a household from sinning but do not, you are responsible for the sins of that household. If you can stop a city from sinning but do not, you are held responsible for the sins of that city. The Talmud even says that if you can stop the whole world from sinning, and do not, you are held responsible for the sins of the whole world. Obviously, the rabbis are speaking hyperbolically but what they are teaching is essential to Jewish tradition: we have a responsibility to take a stand on right action, both in our personal lives and in the larger world. Even if a person refuses to take in your words, and doesn’t apologize or change his or her actions, at least you have actively pursued peace, have not remained silent and said what needs to be said to open the way for reconciliation.

Finally, it’s important to note that sometimes fulfilling the obligation to rebuke someone takes creativity. I want to close with a story that analyzes a final observation that the rabbis make about rebuke in the Talmud: “Just as one is commanded to say that which will be heeded, so is one commanded NOT to say that which will not be heeded.” While this story took place many years ago, it has a nice contemporary relevance to the crisis on Wall Street today.

This is a story told about Rabbi Israel of Vishnitz who one evening walked to the house of a certain wealthy bank manager in his town. The rabbi knocked on the door, was welcomed into the man’s living room and then just proceeded to sit silently for quite some time. The bank manager didn’t want to be rude, so he kept silent as well until the rabbi rose to leave. Then the man asked, Rebbe, please could you tell me why you honored me with a visit?” The rabbi answered, “I went to your house to fulfill a mitzvah, a commandment, and thank God, I was able to fulfill it.” “What mitzvah was that?” asked the confused bank manager. The rabbi answered, our Sages taught, “Just as one is commanded to say that which will be listened to, so is one commanded NOT to say that which will not be listened to.” Now, if I just stayed in my house and you just stayed in yours, then I haven’t really refrained from telling you something that I know you won’t listen to. So I came to your house and HERE, I refrained from telling you. Now, that’s a fulfillment of the mitzvah!” “Perhaps, Rebbe” the man replied, “if you would tell me this thing, perhaps I will listen.” “No, the rebbe said, “I’m sure you won’t.” The bank manager grew more and more curious and insistent until the rebbe said, “Very well. A certain widow in town has almost no money and your bank is about to foreclose on her home and she will be put out on the street. I wanted to ask you to see what you could do to help her in this situation.” The bank manager immediately got defensive, “What do you expect me to do! The money isn’t owed to me personally, it’s owed to the bank. I’m only the manager, if I…” “It’s just as I said all along” the rebbe interrupted, “that you wouldn’t want to hear.” The rebbe ended the conversation and walked out the door. But the rebbe’s words had entered the bank manager’s heart and the manager couldn’t rest until he found a way to raise the money to pay the widow’s debt. Sometimes it pays to be creative in the way we offer rebuke and criticism.

The rabbinic commentator in the medieval work, Sefer ha-Hinnukh, explains that there are two commandments in the Torah that are more important than any others if we wish to establish a peaceful society. Those are the laws we just been studying: Don’t hate someone in your heart, rather you should rebuke them. The author of this book explains, “ For when one person sins against another and the offended party reproves him gently and privately, then the offender with apologize to him, the other will accept his apology and make peace with him.”

As I conclude, I want to return to the story of my friend in California. After thinking about the situation quite a bit, I decided to send her an email and be very direct. In the subject line, I put “my phone calls” and in the email I said I was feeling hurt that she hadn’t responded to my calls and I asked what was up? She emailed back quickly and said that she was truly sorry for not getting back to me. She wrote, “Actually, I’ve been a terrible correspondent in general this fall. She explained that right about the time she got my phone call she had been struggling with some health issues and got a bad diagnosis. She said she had just hunkered down at home with her family and just didn’t have the strength to contact her friends around the country and say how difficult the past months had been. Her health is doing much better now and while I felt bad that she hadn’t let me know she was sick, at least the door is open for us to continue as friends.

Real relationships require taking risks and are based on honest communication and the realization that, at times, we all mess up. Rosh Hashanah teaches that it is possible to change and reconcile. I hope that we will take the opportunity during these holidays to think carefully about our relationships during the past year, and have the courage to speak to people who have hurt us. I hope we’ll be able to be sensitive and creative and that this process moves us towards wholeness in our lives. May we have the courage to do the work that assures we will be inscribed for blessings in the year to come.