Rabbi Evan Moffic
Chicago Sinai Congregation
15 West Delaware Place
Chicago, Illinois 60610
Rosh Hashanah Morning, 2007
In Jewish tradition, Rosh Hashanah is also known as Yom Hadin, which means Day of Judgment. According to an ancient legend, this is the day that the Judge of Truth, who is God, takes note of and judges our actions of the past year. It is also a day, however, where we can look at our own judgments. We can ask ourselves if we are deliberate, thoughtful and slow to anger; if we judge others fairly rather than impulsively, with consideration rather than insensitivity. We ask ourselves these questions because unfair judgments can be enormously destructive. I think, for example, of the Atlanta Olympic security guard Richard Jewell, who died a month ago. After the Olympic bombing in 1996, he was initially praised as a hero. Three days later, he was under investigation as a suspect. He was never arrested, yet international media broadcast his name around the world, branded him the Olympic Bomber, and led him to many years of resentment and disgrace. I also think of the three lacrosse players from Duke. They were arrested last year for alleged violence and rape. Now they clearly made some errors in judgment, but before they even went to court, their pictures were on the cover of Newsweek Magazine and the district attorney, who has recently been disbarred, called them criminals and hooligans. Stereotypes such as “wealthy young frat boys,” “glamorous prep school sport,” and a history of raucous partying led to instant, destructive and ultimately untrue judgments.
It is not just the media that judges unfairly. We all do it. In previous years, for example, if I was at the grocery store or on an airplane, and a baby was crying incessantly, I would get a bit irritated. If the parents appeared to be doing nothing, I might even think: “Gee, what’s wrong with those parents? Why can’t they keep their baby quiet?” Six months after becoming a father, I have a far different reaction. When babies cry, it is not always a reflection on the parents. It is a reflection of the truth that sometimes babies cry, and there is little we can do about it.
We hope that as we gain life experiences, we will become more empathetic and wise in our judgments. Yet, whatever our age, we can improve, we can grow. This growth is utterly important. As Rabbi Jack Riemer points out, the capacity to make judgments is one of the most valuable gifts given us by God, but it is also one of the most dangerous. “We can use it to distinguish between good and evil, but so often we misuse it by making judgments without knowing enough facts or without the sympathy and the empathy that we ought to show toward other human beings.” What are some of the areas in which we frequently misjudge?
First, we often reach hasty conclusions on the basis of appearance and stereotypes. We evaluate people’s clothing, their looks, and their behavior, often from a distance. In the Bible, there is a story about a woman named Hannah. Tormented by an inability to have children, she visits the Temple in the middle of the night to pray. She prays silently, swaying back and forth. Eli the Priest sees her and says to her. “Why do you defile the Temple with your drunkenness. Go and put away your wine.” She replies softly, “No, my lord, I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit, I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I poured out my soul before the Lord.” Eli, of course, is shocked and ashamed.
A second way we misjudge is by failing to rely on new evidence and changed circumstances. Our worldview reminds constrained by the past. I find myself explaining this frequently to interfaith couples who come into my office. They tell me of synagogues they’ve visited where they have felt judged. As a couple, they were judged as being unable to have any serious religious commitment. And the Jewish partner was judged as giving up on Judaism and hurting the Jewish people. In meeting with such couples, I try to explain that until the twentieth century, Jewish communities were largely insulated, and interfaith marriage was rare. There was a sense that if someone did marry someone of another religion, they were leaving Judaism. This is no longer true. As we know at Sinai, interfaith families strengthen our community, and creating a house of prayer of all people represents the best of our Jewish values. Yet, some communities are still shaped by views 3500 years old and judge young couples accordingly.
We also judge others by impugning their motives. If, for example, someone is late to a meeting, we might think that they are rude, or that we are unimportant to them. We might not think that they could have had a sick child at home. Or when someone criticizes one of our ideas or does not invite us to a particular party or meeting, we take it personally. We might see it as an attack on us rather than an oversight or a simple disagreement. Sometimes our impulses are right, but they can also be wrong and harmful.
Indeed, the dangers of misjudgment are many. It hurts others and it hurts us. In the political realm, misjudgment is especially dangerous. When our leaders misjudge, it can lead to conflict and destruction. How can we make this Day of Judgment a day where we become better at judgment? How can we take concrete steps that help us and our leaders draw upon what Abraham Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature.”
First, we can train ourselves to be patient and empathetic when we look at others. The Baal Shem Tov, a great eighteenth century rabbi, said “Even if one seems to have no redeeming qualities, search further.” Quick judgments can be hard to undo, and when we make them, we risk limiting and overlooking the potential of which we are all capable. Empathy can also help us in avoiding these types of judgment. When we judge empathetically, we consider another’s background and the context in which their actions take place. We try to exemplify that Native American warning “never to judge another until we have walked two weeks in his moccasins.” Empathy can be difficult, but when we lack it, we can misjudge and hurt others, especially our friends and family and those on whom we depend.
The Yiddish writer Isaac Loeb Peretz relates this truth in a humorous and profound story about a wagon driver and his horse. The two were always at odds. The horse would say: “First feed me the oats, and then I will pull the wagon. The driver would answer: First pull the wagon, and then I will feed you the oats. The driver was the one with the whip, and he would use it until the horse gave in. Finally the horse dropped dead.
Now the driver was forced to pull the wagon by himself. This took more strength than the driver had, and soon he, too, collapsed and died. When the driver arrived in heaven, he was informed that the horse had filed a complaint against him. He was summoned to appear for a trial before the Throne of Judgment. The horse testified: “He beat me unmercifully! He thrashed the life out of me with his whip!” The driver retorted: “He’s just a horse, and a lousy one at that. I only used the whip because he wouldn’t move!” “But I hadn’t the strength,” cried the horse. “Did I have the strength,” shouted the driver. “I had to pull the wagon myself. Is a horse not stronger than a man?”
The Heavenly Court was in a quandary. It deliberated quite a while before rendering its verdict: The horse will not listen to the driver, and the driver will not listen to the horse. Therefore, both of them will return to earth. The horse will become a driver, and the driver will become a horse. The heavenly court will wait until they learn to hear each other’s voice and learn to feel each other’s pain.” What the court desired was empathy: the sensitivity to hear another’s voice and feel their pain.
Now “feeling your pain” was the emblem of one of our political leaders more than a decade ago. Even though it has become a cliché, it is something we hope for not only in ourselves, but in our leaders. In addition to a strong value system, it is something we hope to see in their judgment and priorities. Indeed, since the time of Moses, who created the first Jewish legal system and spent much of his time settling disputes in the wilderness, Jewish tradition has always linked empathetic wise judgment with successful leadership. In our complex world filled with conflict and misunderstanding, such wise judgment is especially critical. How do we judge the judgment of our leaders? What attributes do we seek? First is the ability to consider opposing points of view. Jewish tradition honors argument and debate. In fact, there is a phrase—machloket l’shem shamayim, arguments for the sake of heaven. The only way to finding the truth that God desires is through argument and discussion. Wise leaders also have a sense of humility. “The beginning of wisdom,” wrote the sages, “is fear of the Lord.” Fear of the Lord is not literal fear of Divine punishment. It is the realization that leadership is not about power or glory. It is a sacred responsibility.
Perhaps the most important step to wise judgment for us, and for our leaders, is self-examination. Our judgments of others often reflect how we view our selves. The Book of Proverbs put it well when it said, “Just as we see our own faces when we look in the water, so we see our own hearts when we look critically at another.” How powerful, and how true! The surest way to wiser judgment is greater self-awareness. Sigmund Freud recognized this truth. Near the end of life, when he wrote extensively about Judaism, he emphasized its extraordinary gift of inwardness. Every year at the High Holy Days, we pause and look inside ourselves: we consider our character, our desires, our strengths, and our weaknesses. As we look inward, we may sense signals of where we have missed the mark. One of the most common signals is guilt. Now instilling a sense of guilt, sometimes too much, has been a technique of rabbis and of Judaism for many years. But a healthy feeling of guilt can help us see where we may improve. It can help us better appreciate our responsibilities and possibilities as human beings, even as it broadens our empathy for and understanding of others.
Looking inward and responding to what we find is not easy or quick. But it is essential. “When I was young,” recalled a great 19th century rabbi, “I wanted to change the world. I tried, but the world did not change. So I tried to change my town, but my town did not change. Then I turned to my family, but my family did not change. Then I realized: in order to change the world, first I must change myself: and I am still trying.”
Each of us is still trying. We are trying to become better judges of ourselves so that we might become more understanding of others. We are trying to maintain a society whose political leaders are deliberate and wise in judgment. We are trying to develop the strength of character to realize the words of this anonymous prayer: “Dear God, help us to remember that the reckless driver who cut us off in traffic last night may be a single mother who worked nine hours that day and who is now rushing home to cook dinner, help with homework, do the laundry, and spend a precious few minutes with her children. Help us to remember that the pierced, tattooed, disinterested young man who couldn’t make change correctly at the register today is a worried nineteen-year-old student who is preoccupied with whether he passed his final exams and with his fear of not getting a student loan for next semester. Remind us, Oh God, that the scary-looking man begging for money in the same spot every day is a slave to addictions that we can only imagine in our worst nightmares. Help to realize that the elderly couple walking so slowly through the aisles, blocking our shopping cart, are savoring this moment, because they know that, based on the biopsy report she got back yesterday, this may be the last year they will go shopping together.”
In this New Year, Oh God, help us to remember that as we judge others, so shall we be judged. And in this coming year, may be judged worthy of blessing and kindness. In this coming year may we, as Albert Einstein put it, widen our circle of compassion and understanding so that we can say together to the Divine Judge: “Remember us unto life, Oh Sovereign Who Delights in Life, and Inscribe us in the book of Life, for your sake, Oh God of Life.”