Loving Rebuke
Listen
Read Full Sermon
Read more
It is not easy to give rebuke lovingly. The great sage Rabbi Akiva once wondered aloud if there was a single person in his generation who understood the proper way to deliver rebuke. (Sifra 89a-b) In his code of Jewish law, the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides went to great lengths to codify the appropriate methods of offering feedback. One should, first and foremost, only offer rebuke in private. According to Jewish law, the sin of publicly shaming another person is akin to bloodshed. Maimonides goes on to explain that the person offering the criticism must do so speaking gently and tenderly, pointing out that they are doing so in order to better the other person and to right a relationship that has fallen off course. The goal, Maimonides explains, is never to shame or humiliate another; the goal of criticism is always meant to be restorative.
There are many reasons why when one rebukes, one must do so with great caution and care. To name the most obvious – because you could be wrong! Each one of us, owing to the limitations of our humanity, is only ever aware of our own side of the story. As a dear friend and mentor once taught me, there is a sequence that must take place in offering rebuke: One must first seek to understand and only then seek to be understood. Just imagine how much heartache could be avoided in this world if every difficult conversation would begin not with an accusation, but with a stated desire to listen. To return to where we started, were we to heed the Golden Rule of doing unto others, it would follow that we should offer rebuke in the manner in which we ourselves would want to receive it – from a starting point of presuming good intent, a starting point anchored in humility, a starting point that entertains the possibility that no one person has a lock on the whole truth. Strange to say, but the first step in offering reproof is to listen.
When we offer rebuke, we need to do so softly, because the wise soul understands that our rebuke can say as much about us as it does about the person we are out to critique. The founder of Hasidism, the Baal Shem Tov, once taught that if we see an ugliness in another person, before saying anything, we must first meditate on the presence of that same ugliness in ourselves. More often than not, when I am asked to intervene as a rabbi in a family dispute, between parent and child, between siblings, or between spouses, whatever the substance of the dispute may be, the demeanor of the complainants is eerily similar. Both are too obstinate, both too proud, both too whatever it is to allow for the possibility of seeing the situation from a vantage point other than their own. As Thomas Kempis wrote: “Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.” What is your motivation in offering rebuke? Is it pure? Is it sincere? What does it say about you that the other person’s behavior has irked you so? What nerve of yours is that person tapping into? Before we do a deep dive into the wrongdoings of others, before any of us ever offer rebuke, our first step must always be to demonstrate willingness to do a deep dive into our own actions.
When we offer rebuke, we need to do so softly, because our rebuke is meant to restore a relationship, not tear it apart. Never, ever must things get so personal that a relationship cannot rebound. As my father once explained to me: There are certain things you just cannot say. You can never tell a cantor he doesn’t have a good voice; you can never tell a rabbi she is not a scholar; and you can never tell a man his daughter is ugly. There are certain things from which a relationship simply cannot recover, and those things must never be said. Behaviors, flaws, shortcomings and missteps – yes, those must be discussed openly even if awkwardly. But attacks on character, blanket generalizations, and unsubstantiated accusations of ill will we cannot unleash on those we are invested in, on those with whom we are seeking to see another day. Threats, ultimatums, and red lines are all weapons we brandish for lack of confidence in the substance of our actual complaint. If we must cut, then let us always measure twice, pause two beats, and say only the things that speak to our best selves and highest hopes.
Most of all, when we offer rebuke, we need to do so softly, because our rebuke must be – and must be perceived to be – coming from a place of love. Ours is an age of hit and run public discourse, of verbal pugilism, where political points are scored by uttering publicly the most derisive and scarring comments. Not only does such a climate speak to our baser selves, but we know that on a personal level it fails to accomplish the very thing we are seeking when we muster the courage to have difficult conversations with those we love most. We all know that an ill-delivered rebuke results in either shutting the other person down or causing him or her to come back swinging. I, for one, know that the most impactful and result-producing criticisms I have received have been those words spoken softly and privately, bookended with affirmations that though I have disappointed, my dialogue partner held the hope and confidence that I would arrive at new heights. When rebuke came with love, that was when my heart opened up, that was when my soul softened, and I was able to change my deeds so that – I would like to think – I found myself becoming the person I continue to seek to be. To give rebuke is to suggest that someone else could and should be better. At the very least, we should ask ourselves to be our best selves when delivering it.
It is said that when the great rabbi of the nineteenth century Rabbi Israel Salanter would critique his community, he would begin by stating: “Don’t think that I am innocent of all the offenses I am enumerating. I too have committed some of them. All that I am doing, therefore, is speaking aloud to myself, and if anything you might overhear applies to you also, well and good.” (cited in Joseph Telushkin, Words That Hurt, p. 98) When it comes to giving and receiving rebuke, I am well aware that I, too, am a work in progress, right there with you in seeking to be the person I aspire to be. Our challenge is a shared one. As I have taught on more than one occasion, our Torah is a narrative documenting God’s frustration with a humanity that never fails to disappoint. In the Garden of Eden, at the Golden Calf, throughout the desert wanderings, and right up to the Promised Land – again and again, the children of Israel found themselves on the receiving end of God’s rebuke. If God had to work on it, if God had to learn how to give feedback kindly and effectively, how much more so each one of us. So let us redouble our efforts, have the courage to admit our missteps, and show a willingness to regroup for the greater good of each other and the relationships we hold dear. There is no limit to what we can accomplish if we set our minds and hearts to work together on the bright road we share ahead.