Timeless Torah

Without the insight offered by these commentaries one would simply read the command of “admonishment” as a reminder that Judaism advocates collective responsibility. Thus, when one sees a fellow Jew about to commit a sin, one is not allowed to say, “That’s a private affair between him and G-d.” However, both Rambam and Ramban are aware that the text also provides a subtle hint of the psychology of interpersonal relations.

Judaism has long been accused by Christianity of being about justice rather than love. This is entirely untrue. Note the wonderful teaching in Avos d’Rabbi Nasan, “Who is the greatest hero? One who turns an enemy into a friend.” What then does set Torah apart from other religions?

If someone harms me, it is natural to feel aggrieved. Still the Torah commands, “Do not hate your brother in your heart.” How to overcome this most natural of reactions is the purpose of the very next Biblical words, “Admonish your neighbor.” The Torah’s answer is, speak, converse, challenge, and remonstrate. It may be that the other person had a good reason for doing what he did. Or it may be that he was acting out of malice, in which case our rebuke will give him, if he so chooses, the opportunity to apologize. In either case, talking it through is the best way of restoring a broken relationship.

Once again we encounter here one of the leitmotivs of Judaism: the power of speech to create, sustain, and mend relationships.

Maimonides cites a key story (2 Samuel 13) of how Amnon, one of King David’s children, raped his half-sister Tamar. When Absalom, Tamar’s brother, heard about the episode, his reaction seemed on the face of it, serene: Her brother Absalom said to her, “Has that Amnon, your brother, been with you? Be quiet, now my sister; he is your brother. Don’t take this to heart.” Tamar lived in her brother Absalom’s house, a desolate woman. When King David heard all this, he was furious. Absalom never said a word to Amnon, either good or bad.”

Appearances, however, deceive. Absalom was anything but forgiving. He bided his time. Two years later he invited an unsuspecting Amnon to a festive meal and gave instructions to his men, “Listen! When Amnon is in high spirits from drinking wine, strike him down and kill him.” And so it happened. Absalom’s silence was not the silence of forgiveness but of hate, giving credence to the line, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Another powerful example is in Genesis. “Jacob loved Joseph more than any of his other sons…and he made a richly ornamented robe. When his brothers saw that their father loved him more…they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.”

On this, Rabbi Yonasan Eybschutz (1690-1764) comments that had the brothers been able to sit together, they would have spoken and laid their grievances on the table. Eventually, they would have made their peace. The tragedy of conflict is that it prevents people from communicating, which is often the magic ‘potion’ needed to halt the ravages of revenge.

Now we understand G-d concluding this section with, “Love your neighbor.” But are all neighbors loveable? Surely there are those who, out of envy or malice, have truly hurt you. Does G-d command us to live as if we were angels, without any of the emotions natural to human beings? . That is why, when someone does you wrong, you must approach the wrongdoer. You must tell him of your feelings. Perhaps you completely misunderstood his intentions. Or it may be that he genuinely meant to do you harm, but now, faced with the reality of your injury, he may sincerely repent. If, however, you fail to talk it through, there is a real possibility that you will bear a grudge, and in the fullness of time, come to take revenge, as did Absalom.

What is so impressive about the Torah is that it both articulates the highest of high ideals; and at the same time speaks to us as human beings. If we were angels it would be easy to love one another. But we are not. An ethic that commands us to love our enemies, without any hint as to how we are to achieve this, is simply unlivable. Instead, the Torah sets out a realistic program. By being honest with one another (“admonish”), we may achieve reconciliation (“no hate”). How much distress and even bloodshed might be spared (“no revenge”) if humanity heeded this simple command? Who knows, we may even surprise ourselves, and one day, come to “love” the other.

Can this work? I know it does. I’ve tried it…with two congregants who, at first, blamed me for putting them in the same room as their enemy. Later, they not only loved each other, they even liked me.