When Being Right Is Wrong

When Being Right Is Wrong

Subtitle:
On Ego, Shalom, and Why Truth Without Compassion Fails
Inspired by teachings of Rabbi Zecharia Wallerstein
By Albert Gindi

Within the human condition exists this need to triumph the other. As if being wrong is the biggest shame to exist, while proving ourselves correct is the world’s greatest victory. What we overlook during those fiery discussions though, is how much more respected we could become if only we could let that need go. To take a step back, noticing the hurt you may be causing the fellow beside you, and how much greater you could be by refraining from such a response.

Many a time, an argument can unfold in a path of heated intensity. A man is arguing with his wife, each becoming increasingly stubborn in their stance. Neither side is willing to let go, for they are so confident in their superior mode of thinking. Many people are like this, and perhaps us men in particular. 2 hours have passed, yet we are still pushing strong. For we will push relentlessly, until the gauntlet is put down and we are proven correct.

One may feel very good during those moments of superiority. After all, I was like a top notch lawyer arguing my case before Supreme Court, and I scored big time. There is nothing she can say to properly respond. But take a moment to ask yourself what has been overlooked; what you have caused by seriously pounding your point of view into your spouse’s skull. You are in the midst of a disagreement, you are saying A while she is saying B. “What are you talking about?!” You shout in disdain. “You never learnt this! You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying! This is my business, not yours!”

For a half hour this is going on, until finally she can’t handle another moment of this, as she breaks down and says, “You know what Zecharia? I’m wrong. You were right all along.”

Now there may be a moment where a small smirk crawls onto my lips, because I’m right. But at the same time, I did something horrible- causing somebody who I love to be wrong. Worse still, I made her feel terrible inside, as I condescended on her until she conceded to my point. So is that right? Am I really emerging as a winner from this discussion, or the one who lost far more than he may have gained?

Here’s another scenario. I am learning with my child. We open up the Gemara to learn, and as he starts explaining the Rashi to me, I realize that he is totally wrong. “That’s not what Rashi is saying.” I let him know. “You don’t understand what the Gemara is saying at all. Who taught this to you?! You have the sugya entirely wrong!” “You’re right Tatty,” He says in a despondent tone. “I am wrong.”

So your right. Hooray! But think about it. Did you really win? Well that is something you will determine the next time you ask him to learn with you. More likely than not, he will be a lot less eager than before you showed off your incredible learning skills.

Think about it. Why would he want to learn with you again when that is the way you act? Does a child want to be wrong every time he talks to his father? Of course not; when you are proven wrong you are made to feel inferior, and that is not a feeling desired by many. If a child knows he’s going to be wrong at the end of every discussion he holds with his father, he is not going to desire those discussions any longer. It won’t be too long, before he no longer wants to learn with his father at all.

Many kids have approached me saying, “Rabbi Wallerstein, I get into an argument with my father every time I talk with him. And he doesn’t stop the conversation, until he proves himself correct. Well guess what? I don’t want to talk to him anymore. I am no longer going to inform him of the on goings of my life. Because I know that if I do, we are going to get into a deep discussion about it. He is going to delve into every detail, and keep discussing them with me until I concede to his every point.”

Do you really feel like that’s the correct thing to do? If you argue with your kid until you lose him, are you right?  If you argue with your wife to the point where she walks out of the discussion feeling extremely unintelligent, did you really win anything? Or can you take a step back for a moment, so you can realize how wrong you really are? 

Now, I am aware that there are moments where your wife is completely wrong. She is simply missing the right information. She’s takeh absolutely wrong, completely, in every which way. Nevertheless, perhaps it would be more correct for you to take a deep breath, let it go, and say, “You know what? It’s not that important. I’m thinking about this a bit more deeply now, and the truth is I see your side. It could be that you’re right. I was wrong.”

You may feel in your heart that she is absolutely mistaken. Even so, is it so crazy for you to go out of your way for someone you deeply care for, to make them feel good by having them think they are right? When you truly love and care about someone, that should be the primary agenda on your list.

And don’t worry about it, the satisfaction from the self-growth you acquired by making such a difficult move will greatly outweigh that fleeting feeling of a very shallow victory.

Let me tell you about something which happened in my chabura. It was right before Tisha Be’av, and I was giving a deeply serious chabura about the Beis Hamikdash. I discussed the Holocaust and the Spanish Inquisition, and many different devastating tragedies which were brought onto Klal Yisroel throughout the dark years of Galus. It was very emotional and very intense.

I finished the shiur with the burning of the Beis Hamikdash, and how we must use those flames to ignite a fire of love in our neshama, so we can connect with Hashem, our Father in Heaven. I was on fire, when a boy who was new to my chabura approached me with a question. “Rabbi,” he innocently asked, “do you think that when the Mashiach comes the Beis Hamikdash is going to have WIFI?

I promise you that was the question. I had just finished talking about Tisha B’Av, all of the destruction we had endured, the great pain we as a nation had experienced. Yet all this guy could think about whether there is going to big this big antenna giving off a WIFI signal to all the yidden from the top of the Bies Hamikdash. What was wrong with him?

Now the old Rabbi Wallerstein would have said, “Is there something very mentally wrong with you? How can you be thinking about WIFI, while we are mourning the Beis Hamikdash hours before Tisha B’Av is upon us. What type of things are in your head?”

And he would have walked out very hurt that I didn’t take his question seriously, most definitely never coming to my shiur ever again.

But I had prepared this shiur, so I knew that this wasn’t the type of answer I should be giving. So instead, I patiently turned to this kid and said, “Chaim, I want you to know that this is a question which has been bothering me for a very long time. Not the WIFI part in particular, that’s just a minor detail, but rather the question of technology as a whole.”

“The Navi seems to be talking about how there will be donkeys and camels when the Beis Hamikdash comes, so it doesn’t seem like there will be any technology. But on the other hand, it sounds like there will be a nuclear war, as it says that their skin will melt, leaving smoke on the ground for seven or thirteen years. No mention or hint is made about technology though, which leaves us all very confused. I always wondered whether Hashem is going to move the world a foot so that operation of all the satellites becomes obsolete.”

“Will all our computers be gone? Will there be no screens or emails, cars or electricity?  Will Hashem do the same thing He did by Migdal Bavel? It’s a great question you are asking which covers so many areas, and I really don’t know how to answer you.” “Wow, thank you rebbe.” Said  Chaim, beaming with pride. “I don’t have the answer now,” I earnestly repeated, “but when I do I will let you know.”

He walked away feeling like a million-dollars, while I walked away feeling like I wanted to hit him. The urge was so strong within me to lash out at him for his foolishness.  And I would have been right, but it would have been SO wrong. Because what’s more important than being right, is taking the other persons feelings into calculation. It is so much more important to ensure you avoid hurting the guy you are in a conversation with.

This is a hard thing I am saying over here, I am not denying it for an instant. Which I why I opened up the Mishna in Avos, to show you that it’s not enough to just know it, you actually have to do it.

As I was saying this over to my shiur, many people strongly disagreed with me. They said, “what you are saying is very nice Rebbe, but when you’re right you are right. You have to stand up for the truth!” And this is something the yetzer hara will do to you. Making you believe it’s an aveira to let them believe they are right, when they are really wrong. But I will prove to you from the torah how wrong that claim really is.

By the Bris of the Bein Hametzarim, Hashem came to inform Avraham Avinu that he was going to have a baby. “Me?! I’m going to have a kid?!” Avraham said in incredulous disbelief. “I am much too old for that.” But all Hashem responded was, “Just wait and see.”

A little while later, Hashem appears to Sara Imeinu, saying “Sara, you’re going to have a baby next time this year.

Sara as well took an approach of absolute incredulity, saying “Hashem, even if you make a miracle and turn me back into a teenager, my husband is much too old. He has far passed the age where he can have any kids.”

Yet, when Hashem goes to Avraham and informs him what his wife said, He doesn’t actually tell Avraham what she said. Instead, Hashem tells him, “I just spoke to Sara, and she said she is much too old to bear a child.”

That’s not what she said everybody. She didn’t say that she is too old, but rather that her husband Avraham is. We’re talking about Hashem over here, and yet Hashem changed the truth. He heard something, yet decided to change it and relate something else completely.

Why did Hashem do that? For one reason and one reason only, says the mefarshim. “Because he didn’t want to hurt Avraham’s feelings.” And even though Avraham himself said that he was too old, Hashem didn’t want to hurt Avraham’s feeling by letting him know that Sara felt the same.

This is something I had great difficulty understanding when I learnt it as a child. I mean, what is going on over here? How can Hashem, who is complete Emes, say a word of sheker? I don’t care if he’s doing it to make peace or save world order, Hashem shouldn’t ever be able to lie! How can Hashem lie, even when it’s for the sake of shalom bayis?

“If a statement you make causes strife,” Says Rav Shimon Pincus, “then it’s sheker. And on the inverse, when someone says a lie which causes shalom, it is retroactively considered to be emes. Meaning, that when Hashem caused shalom bayis by telling Avraham that Sarah thinks she herself is to old, it is a statement of absolute truth. Reason being that it brought peace into this world.”

Now you might tell me, “that’s ridiculous, why should that be? What in the world does one have to do with the other? You said a lie by not telling the truth, and that should be the end of it.” Well the reason is that emes and shalom are one, interconnected in every sense of the word. On the flip side as well, Machlokes and sheker are one and the same. Relaying a statement which can cause strife is tantamount to telling a massive lie, no matter how true it may be. You are saying sheker, and providing all the proofs in the world to support your declaration isn’t going to change a thing- and visa verca. Change all the facts you want; if you are doing it with the intent to maintain peace and prevent an argument, the words that you are saying are absolutely true.

This is something which I’m going to prove to you from a gemara in Bava Metzia (85A). Rebbe Yehuda Hanassi would scream out excruciating pain every time he went to the bathroom for thirteen years. He was in such agony, that the people out on boats in the sea would hear his yells.

“Why did he suffer so much?” Asks the Gemara, “what in the world could he have done to deserve such pain?” after which it proceeds to tell us the story which led to such unbearable suffering.

There was a calf who was being taken for slaughter. Trembling at the thought, this calf ran to take shelter in Rebbe’s coat, begging for mercy. He had put his head under Rebbe’s coat and began sobbing. “Get out of here,” said Rebbe, meaning well. “Hashem created you to end up in cholent for Shabbos. You should be happy about your place in life. There is nothing to be sad about, go do your job. Stop hiding and go get shechted.” 

At that moment they said in Shamayim, “He didn’t have rachmanus on this little calf. Therefore, we’re not going to have mercy on him.” And from that moment on he suffered constantly, never having a moment’s peace, living with pain and agony for thirteen long years with no chance of respite or escape.

Then one day, while he was at home, the maid discovered a bunch of mice hiding under the furniture. She was about to kill them, when Rav Yehuda Hanassi said, “leave them alone. Let them live.” Suddenly his pain stopped. At that moment he had mercy on those rodents, so in shamayim the decided to have mercy on him as well.

Now, let me ask you something; was Rebbe wrong? Is there anything wrong with what he said? All he said to the calf was, “this is what you were created for.” Was that a lie? This was precisely the reason that this calf was brought into this world, and they both knew it. What was wrong with what he said? Why was it just reason for such intense suffering?

But the answer is that the Gemara didn’t say Rebbe was wrong. It said that he didn’t have rachmanus. Therefore, he was wrong and needed to be punished. That is why he was punished for thirteen long years with agonizing pain, suffering which wouldn’t have stopped had it not been for his mercy on those little mice. Because even if you’re right, if your statement doesn’t come with a big dose of rachmanus, you will pay a price for it.

I’d like to end with one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever heard, a story written in the Kisvei Ari z”l. It happened in his day in Tzfas. There was this peasant am Haaretz who didn’t know a thing. One Friday night he come to shul, and the rabbi gets up to the podium to speak about the parsha. “the Lechem Hapanim would stay the entire week on the Shulchan,” he said, “absolutely fresh.”

As he was explaining, somebody called out with a question. “Well Rav, what do we do now that there’s no Beis Hamikdash?” “There’s not going to be any more Lechem Hapanim until the Mashiach comes, and we are zocheh to see the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdash.” Says the Rav.

Now this peasant goes home from shul absolutely shocked. He couldn’t believe that Hashem has been suffering for two thousand years already without any food. “We must do something,” he says to his wife, explaining the urgency of the situation. “G-d hasn’t had food for too long. He used to have 12 breads baked for Him every week, but then the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed and He has nothing to eat.”

“So we can feed Him!” His wife excitedly suggests. “I’ll bake the 12 challas, and you’ll take them and bring them to Hashem.”

But then a look of uncertainty forms on her face. “Wait a minute,” She thinks out loud. “How are we going to get them to Him?” “I know what we’ll do,” He says, “Bake them Thursday night, and the second they come out of the oven I’ll sneak into shul, and put those hot fresh challos in the Aron Kodesh. Then on Friday morning, I’ll sneak into the shul again to check if he ate them.” “That’s a fantastic plan.” She says, and off they go.

You can imagine what it’s like in their small simple hut that Thursday. They got together the finest ingredients, and they are in midst of their preparations to bake the best challa Hashem has ever tasted. Here are these two am aratzim, who know absolutely nothing, hoping that Hashem will accept their tasty offering.

At around 2:30 in the morning, the last of the breads are wrapped and placed in the bag. The peasant says good bye to his wife, and after checking his surrounding to make sure there’s nobody watching, he heads off to the neighborhood shul and slips inside. Opening up the Aron Kodesh, he takes the bag of hot challas, and places it within. 

The next morning the gabbai comes to the shul, and realizes that the scent is quite unusual. “It’s very strange,” he thinks to himself. “The shul almost smells like a bakery.” He follows the smell, noticing that it’s getting very strong as he comes closer to the aron kodesh. “that’s weird.” He thinks to himself. Nevertheless the scent was unmistakable, and he opens up the ark doors to see what lay within.

Sitting before him, right next to the sifrei torah, is a bag, full of freshly baked breads. “How thoughtful!” thought the Gabbai, “there must be some Tzadik in the city who wants to give challahs to poor people without letting anybody know. I’ll be his messenger to give them out.”

That Friday afternoon the peasant shows up at the shul once again, eager to find out whether his idea had gone as planned. After looking around once again to make sure no one is looking, he runs into the shul heading straight for the Aron Kodesh. A huge smile forms on his lips, as he opens it up and discovers that his wife tasty challahs were no longer there.

“We did it!” He calls to his wife excitedly as he comes through the front door. “For two thousand years Hashem hasn’t had any food! But now he has twelve delicious challahs to feast on. We did it! We are feeding Hashem!”

You could feel the excitement in the air at that moment. This couple couldn’t believe that they, of all people, had the zechus to feed their loving Father in Heaven.

And so it went week after week. Thursday’s in that simple home were now filled with great joy as the smell of heavenly bread wafted through the air. Thursday nights he would put them in the Aron, and then every Friday afternoon he would sneak into the shul to make sure they are gone. Week after week, for an entire year.

Then it happened. That Thursday had gone as planned, but as 2:30 in the morning came around, there was just one small detail which changed everything. The Rav of the community was sitting there in the Ezras Nashim deeply engrossed in his learning, when he hears footsteps creeping into the shul, heading for the Aron Kodesh.

“Thief!” He shrieks, as he runs down the steps to catch him. Confident he was that some mindless crook had come to steal the holy Torah. “Stop in your tracks.” He shouts in rage, though his anger very quickly turns to confusion when he realizes that the man standing before him was none other than a member of his shul.

“What are you doing here?” He asks in shock. “Why are you opening up the Aron Kodesh? And what in the world is in that bag?” “I will tell you Rabbi,” says the peasant. “But you have to swear not to tell anybody.”

“I am not swearing anything,” comes the firm response.

The peasant swallows hard, feeling uncomfortable about the situation, and especially of having to reveal his well-guarded secret. “Well I’m not sure if you remember,” he says, “but last year you gave a speech on Shabbos about how Hashem used to have breads baked for him every week in his Beis Hamikdash. But two thousand years ago, His home was destroyed, and since then He doesn’t have anything to eat.”

“To eat?” says the Rav, becoming ever more confused. “What do you mean to eat?” “Well you see, me and my wife decided that Hashem has far too long without anything to eat. Since that Shabbos, we have been baking bread ever single week, to make sure that Hashem will have some food.”

“What in the world are you talking about?!” Shouts the Rav in utter contempt. “YOU IDIOT! YOU APIKORES! You think Hashem is eating your bread?! Hashem doesn’t eat anything! What in the world is wrong with you?!”

“But Rebbi,” the poor peasant says in utter disbelief. “I come every Friday to check! Hashem takes them every single week!”

“Hashem doesn’t take them! It’s the Gabbai taking them every Friday morning to distribute among the poor. We were sure a Tzadik in the community had come up with a clever way to secretly give to the poor. But to feed Hashem, that’s ridiculous! You are really such a fool!”

He walks out of the shul that night red in the face, feeling absolutely dejected. Never before had he felt such shame. The Rabbi was right, what an idiot he was to think up such foolishness. He enters through that front door like he did every week before, this time a broken man, full of embarrassment by what had transpired.

His wife’s demeanor as well quickly turns to sorrow as well as he relays the night’s event. She couldn’t believe what had happened, leaving a heart once full of joy now filled with despair.

That Shabbos night, the holy Arizal has a dream in middle of his sleep. The Sar of Hashem comes to            him saying, “go to the Rabbis house and tell him that Hashem had no reiach nichoach from this world for over two thousand years. Since the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash he had none of the wonderful scent emanating from His home. And then, for the past year he had that delightful scent of the lechem hapanim once again. These two people who baked challos for Hashem gave Him such tremendous pleasure, until you came and took it away. Let him know that because of what he did, he is going to die a terrible death before the end of this Shabbos.”

And the Arizal writes that vekach haya. By mincha that Shabbos, he had died from a terrible death.

Let me ask you a question though, was there anything wrong it what the Rabbi said? Every word of what he said was true. He told the peasant that Hashem doesn’t eat bread and he was absolutely correct.

Nevertheless, in Hashems eyes, that wasn’t adequate reasoning for his words. For at the end of the day, what the Rabbi said hurt those two people. When you hurt someone, you are completely wrong even when you are absolutely correct.

And even more than that, a much deeper lesson presents itself in this story. These two peasants acted on assumptions which were completely flawed. The idea that Hashem eats bread was based in sheker, it just wasn’t true. Hashem doesn’t eat challah, He doesn’t eat anything. Yet, despite that, their challos somehow replicated the reiach nichoach of the beis hamikdash! How can that be?

And the reason is that they did it with love, full of pure intention to give to their Creator. So even when they were wrong, they were still right. So in shamayim, their actions reflected their intentions and not their reality. And the Rabbi may have been so very right, yet in the eyes of Hashem he was wholly mistaken.

Take this idea away with you in your heart, make sure it becomes more than a simple fluttering thought in your mind. It is an ideal which could revolutionize your relationship with your wife and your children. It will even change your interactions into something much more calm and causal. Realize that when you shut the door on a guy who comes to your door to collect the moment you sat down to relax after a hard day, you are right. But you are so wrong. Because it’s so much more about love and care. It’s so much more about the other persons feelings, then the excuse we give ourselves for our actions. Absorb this idea, and your entire perspective will completely shift.

The end does justify the means. If the end is shalom, then it’s emes. And if the end causes any kind of machlokes, then it’s a terrible lie.