Moshe Rabbeinu & President Herzog
A thought on Parashas Devarim
In a profoundly moving address to Congress this week, President Isaac Herzog made an intriguing observation: “I respect criticism, particularly from friends - but it is not always necessary to accept it. However, criticism should never devolve into outright negation.”
His words resonated deeply with me, underscoring the essential role that critique serves in shaping our relationships. It's through constructive feedback that we evolve. Yet, it's crucial to recognize when our criticism veers towards negativity, a line we must conscientiously avoid crossing. Even when our friends take it upon themselves to critique, the manner and timing of the delivery often carry more significance than the content of the criticism itself.
This art of effective criticism was well demonstrated by Moshe Rabbeinu. Despite navigating a challenging group, he offered criticism in such a nuanced manner that it demanded astute scrutiny to discern
Sefer Devarim starts off in a seemingly innocent manner
אלה הדברים אשר דבר משה אל כל ישראל בעבר הירדן במדבר בערבה מול סוף בין־פארן ובין־תפל ולבן וחצרת ודי זהב׃
These are the words that Moshe addressed to all of Yisroel across the Yardein; in the wilderness— on the Arava plain facing Suf; between Poron and Tofel and Lovon and Chatzeiros and Di Zohov.
The Meforshim understand Moshe's seemingly innocuous words as a subtle critique of the Jewish people for various wrongdoings.
It can be interpreted as follows
These are the words that Moshe addressed to all of Yisroel across the Yardein; [as he had] [reproved them for they had sinned] in the wilderness—[and provoked (Hashem) to anger] on the Arava plain facing [the Sea of] Suf; [and as he had] between Poron [where they scorned the mon] and Tofel and Lovon [where they provoked to anger regarding meat] and Chatzeiros and Di Zohov [because they made the Golden Calf].1
Undeniably, the conduct of Moshe, similar to Yaakov Avinu before him and subsequent leaders like Yehoshua and Shmuel HaNavi, provides us with valuable insights into effective critique. They chose the final moments of their earthly existence to offer their critique of their people. The Midrash provides us with multiple reasons why such an approach was adopted - to avoid recurring criticism; to lessen the embarrassment of the one being criticized - as the interaction was their last; to prevent lingering resentment against the one offering the rebuke; and to facilitate a peaceful parting.
Indeed, the last words one utters have a profound impact, embedding themselves deeply into the listener's consciousness, primarily because they are the final ones.
Repeated criticism often becomes white noise, failing to make a lasting, meaningful impact. But a thoughtfully given piece of feedback, delivered with sincerity at the end, can serve as a lasting legacy, a valuable parting gift from one who is transitioning to the world beyond.2
Even as we strive for subtlety and nuance in our critique, it's vital to ensure our message is received. As the Talmud succinctly put it: “I wonder if there exists in this generation anyone who knows how to accept rebuke.”3
The lesson to be drawn from this is indeed to emulate Moshe's example when criticizing others - ensure it's subtly delivered, nuanced, and doesn't cause embarrassment.
Rabbi Sacks wrote:
'“Who is a leader of the Jewish people? Only one who loves the Jewish people. Reading the prophetic literature, it is easy to see the prophets as social critics… [But] the prophets loved their people. They spoke not out of condemnation but from the depths of a deep desire. They knew that Israel was capable of - and had been summoned to - great things. They never criticized in order to distance themselves, to set themselves above and apart. They spoke in love – God’s love.”'4
This embodies the spirit of delivering criticism with genuine care and affection, aiming not to demean but to uplift, driven by a belief in the potential greatness of the ones being critiqued.
Criticism, particularly when it seems unwarranted, can often provoke feelings of discomfort. It's an all too easy trap to fall into, yet it's something we would do well to avoid. However, this isn't to imply that we should suppress all feedback.
Over time, I've come to see criticism as an essential element of continual learning and personal growth. However, there's a crucial caveat; I find it imperative to distinguish between constructive criticism and toxic feedback, with my tolerance for the latter dwindling considerably as time passes. :)
In the 'frum' community, there seems to be a tendency to quickly pass judgment and label those who approach things differently than we do. We need to respect the way others understand Judaism, rather than dismissing them offhand. If the actions of others seems to be contrary to our understanding of the Torah, this does not mean that we are entitled to disrespect them as human beings. After all, God created us as humans, not angels. Why, then, do we anticipate such perfection in everyone?
Rav Yitzchak Meir Morgenstern encapsulated this thought beautifully:
“The fact that we can never reach perfection, drives us to be the best we can in each moment.”
As a part of the nation of leaders, it's pivotal for us to mirror the actions of our greatest leader, Moshe Rabbeinu. It is essential to acknowledge that criticism – often emerging as an attempt to sway someone's viewpoint – can, paradoxically, stifle the pursuit of personal excellence, as Daniel Kahneman astutely observed, "People don't change their minds."5
Kahneman explains that the way that we give and receive criticism is often shaped by culture, community expectations and societal norms. When we are defensive, we lose a whole avenue to introspection that can help us develop and grow in our sensitivity and thoughtfulness to others. Every day we receive messages about ourselves. Every once in a while, someone cares enough to tell us what they see. Correct the wise person and he will love you.
To navigate these complex dynamics, it's useful to recall Barb Mellers' words, quoted by Kahneman: "do not change minds, just open a little wider". This idea echoes the gentle coaxing a dentist might employ before a tooth extraction – a seemingly painful process but ultimately a beneficial one.
As we strive to act with leadership and openness, we should also remember the purposeful spaces between the Torah's letters.6 Just as these spaces invite reflection and introspection, the spaces between our words – or the pauses in our conversations – can do the same, leaving a more profound and enduring impact.
Shabbat Shalom
Metzudah Chumash
Based on the words of Erica Brown - In the Narrow Places
Arachin 16b
Bamidbar (5773) – Love as Law, Law as Love