Dear Yeshiva Family:
Before this week’s Dvar Torah, I would like to personally invite you to join us for the premiere of our Names, Not Numbers® Holocaust documentary this Monday evening, July 20, at the Holiday Inn North Shore in Skokie.
We are deeply grateful to our many supporters who have helped make this incredibly powerful program possible. We hope you will take part in this meaningful evening.
For more information and to RSVP or support, please visit htc.edu/nnn. I hope to see you there!
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At the beginning of this week's parashah, Rashi explains that Moshe Rabbeinu was delivering words of mussar to Klal Yisrael. Yet, rather than explicitly listing their sins, he referred to them only through hints. Instead of saying outright what had transpired, he alluded to the various places where Klal Yisrael had stumbled.
From here, Rashi teaches that when giving mussar, one should do so in a way that preserves the honor of the one receiving it. Rather than embarrassing Klal Yisrael, Moshe Rabbeinu chose to couch his rebuke in subtle references.
The mefarshim ask that later in the parshah Moshe speaks quite openly about many of these very same incidents. If preserving their honor required speaking only in hints, why does he later abandon that approach?
Several answers are offered. The Maharal explains that the primary concern for a person's dignity is at the beginning of the conversation or Sefer. Once that respect has been established, it is possible to speak more directly. Alternatively, he suggests that mentioning a single failing openly does not carry the same embarrassment, since everyone stumbles from time to time. Here, however, Moshe was recounting an entire history of failures, and therefore began by speaking only through allusion.
The Kli Yakar offers a slightly different approach than Rashi. He explains that Moshe's purpose was not merely to preserve their honor, but to ensure that they would accept the rebuke. Human nature is that when a person's faults are thrust directly before him, his instinct is often to become defensive. By speaking in hints, Moshe enabled Klal Yisrael to recognize their shortcomings on their own, making it far more likely that the mussar would be accepted.
This, however, raises a new question. If the Kli Yakar is correct—that the very effectiveness of mussar depends upon presenting it indirectly—then the same question we asked on Rashi can be asked here. Why does Moshe later in the parashah discuss these episodes explicitly? Although the Kli Yakar himself addresses this question, perhaps we can suggest a somewhat different understanding of the Kli Yakar.
One way to explain the Kli Yakar is based on the idea that people need to view themselves as fundamentally good. When a person's faults are placed before him in all of their ugliness, his instinct is often to deny them. Admitting those faults creates a painful tension between the person he wants to believe he is and the person he is being told he currently is. In order to resolve that tension, many people simply reject the criticism altogether. This is a well-known aspect of human nature and an important principle to remember whenever giving mussar.
Presenting the truth in all of its harshness often causes a person to focus more on defending his self-image than on correcting his shortcomings. Instead of asking, "How can I become better?" he finds himself asking, "How can I prove that this isn't really me?" The entire focus of the conversation shifts from growth to self-defense. By softening the presentation, a person is given the opportunity to work on himself while still preserving his dignity.
We find another expression of this same principle later in the parshah.
As Moshe Rabbeinu continues speaking to Klal Yisrael, he says, "Bring for yourselves men who are wise, understanding, and well-known." (1:13) The Shela asks, Moshe is in the midst of delivering words of mussar so why interrupt the rebuke with words of praise? The Shelah derives from here that one of the most effective ways to give mussar is not by dwelling on a person's shortcomings, but by reminding him of his greatness. When a person is shown the potential that lies within him, he naturally wants to live up to that image. Moshe Rabbeinu was continuing the mussar lesson by reminding Klal Yisrael of their greatness.
The Shelah finds this idea in a beautiful passuk in Mishlei: "Do not rebuke a scoffer, lest he hate you; rebuke a wise man, and he will love you." (9:8)
The simple understanding is that one should not rebuke a scoffer because he will reject the criticism, whereas a wise person will appreciate it. The Shelah, however, explains the verse is teaching us how to give mussar. Do not rebuke a person by telling him that he is a scoffer—that will only cause him to hate you. Instead, rebuke him by calling him a wise person. Remind him who he is capable of becoming. Appeal to the greatness within him, and not only will he accept the rebuke, he will love you for it.
What a fabulous way to explain the Passuk!! People rarely rise because we convince them how low they have fallen. More often, they rise because someone helps them remember how high they are capable of reaching.
If this is indeed the Kli Yakar's point, however, our original question remains. Why, later in the parashah, does Moshe Rabbeinu speak openly about these very same failures? Perhaps, however, that is not the primary point the Kli Yakar is making. Perhaps the key is something else entirely.
One of the most powerful ways to help someone grow is not to force the conclusion upon him, but to allow him to arrive at it himself. Instead of saying, "This is what is wrong with you," one can simply present the facts, offer a hint, and allow the person to connect the dots. Once he reaches the conclusion on his own, something remarkable happens. The struggle is no longer between him and the person giving the mussar. It becomes a struggle within himself.
When someone else tells me that I need to improve, it is very easy to resist. Consciously or subconsciously, I begin fighting the other person. After all, this is your battle. You have decided that I need to change, and now I am expected to invest all of the effort in meeting your expectations. Somehow I am doing all the work to fight your battle.
But when I myself recognize my shortcomings, everything changes. I am no longer fighting someone else's battle—I am fighting my own. The desire to grow now comes from within. I have become the one who identified the problem, and I have become the one who wants to solve it. As with the basic principles of capitalism, people work hardest when they themselves are the ones who stand to gain. The moment the conclusion becomes mine, the battle becomes mine as well, and that is the only kind of growth that truly lasts. Perhaps this is precisely what Moshe Rabbeinu accomplished.
He began with hints, not because these failures could never be spoken about openly, but because he wanted Klal Yisrael to arrive at the realization themselves. He gave them the opportunity to reflect, to recognize what had happened, and to acknowledge their mistakes of their own accord. Once they had reached that point—once they themselves had become invested in correcting the past—there was no longer any obstacle to speaking openly. The hardest step had already been taken. The desire to grow no longer belonged to Moshe Rabbeinu; it belonged to Klal Yisrael themselves.
This lesson has profound implications for the way we raise our children and help them grow.
Of course, with younger children we often need to be quite direct. They require clear guidance and explicit instruction. But as children mature, our approach must mature with them. Rather than immediately telling them what they did wrong, we should strive to gently and lovingly help them discover it themselves.
Sometimes that may mean taking a walk together and talking through a situation. Rather than accusing, we can discuss the consequences of certain actions, ask thoughtful questions, and allow them to connect the dots. The goal is not merely that they hear what we think they did wrong, but that they themselves come to recognize both the mistake and the need to grow from it.
Only once they have reached that conclusion on their own can the conversation naturally turn toward how to improve. At that point, the discussion is no longer a battle between parent and child. Parent and child are standing together on the same side, working toward the same goal.
Of course, no single approach works in every situation or with every child. There are certainly times when a parent must be more direct. But whenever possible, helping a child discover the truth for himself often lays the strongest foundation for genuine and lasting growth. May Hashem give us the wisdom to give and accept proper criticism!
Have an amazing Shabbos!
Rabbi Moshe Revah mrevah2@touro.edu
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