At the beginning of the video, Daddy says, “You know what the problem was with your last animation about “Judging Others Favorably”? Everybody already thinks that they are judging others favorably! So, you’re not teaching them anything.”

If we look honestly at the way we talk about those with whom we deeply disagree, we will notice that we often justify our response to their approach by demeaning and demonizing them, often as a group. We see the people in that group as a menace and a threat to our safety and well-being. This feeling emerges from a powerful and sometimes legitimate fear that their way threatens our very existence. These seemingly impenetrable conflicts threaten to destroy our families, our communities, and our country. To live together peacefully, however, we must learn to judge others favorably, even others with whom we disagree. How might Jewish tradition provide guidance?

“…to be true to the tradition’s own teachings on living with disagreement, we have no choice but to engage in the regular spiritual practice of introspection. We must regularly question our own assumptions about which views are truly evil and dangerous. We must consider whether we are responding with arrogance or competitiveness to another’s legitimate point of view. We must remind ourselves again and again of the finitude of our own knowledge and vision, cultivating humility in the presence of views widely divergent from our own.”

How does one cultivate “humility in the presence of views widely divergent from our own”?

How might you develop a “regular spiritual practice of introspection” to help you discern when you are “responding with arrogance or competitiveness to another’s legitimate point of view”?

This video and study guide are designed to help you answer these questions.

When engaging with someone whose ideas feel dangerous to us, we should consider these two big issues:

Vulnerability can be dangerous. The paradox of vulnerability, however, is that it also provides an opportunity to connect and move forward.

The Hebrew word for vulnerable is פגיע .The root is פ.ג.ע. , meaning to contact, usually in a hurtful manner. Thus, פגיע makes sense as a translation of vulnerable—exposed to being contacted in a hurtful manner. But getting hurt is not the only possible result of being vulnerable. On the contrary, vulnerability has been singled out as the gateway to creativity and connection. https://ulpan.com/say-vulnerability-hebrew/

Think of words you associate with the word “vulnerable.” Ask others what words they associate with it. The words fall into two categories:

“David, on his way to fight Goliath, was given the king’s armor. For a battle this unequal, with life-and-death stakes, armor made sense. But David removed the armor, for it didn’t fit him. This image has stayed with me as a symbol of a key concept: that vulnerability is the greatest weapon if you are brave enough to use it.”

“I always teach with an open heart. Not just for moral reasons, but for pragmatic ones—a teacher’s open heart makes it possible for students to open their hearts as well.”

“When evil threatens the weak, we must fight back. And yet it is true that sometimes the only way to disarm a threat is to be vulnerable, to share our common humanity, in hopes of awakening the humanity of the other.”

Two of the preceding sentences are crucial:

“In spite of his experiences during the Holocaust, Elie Wiesel sheds his armor every day, opens himself up to his students, students he didn’t even know, listens to their dreams and hopes, continues to argue for faith and friendship. He says, ‘Love is possible. Hope is possible.’”

Most people, including Daddy, quote only the first half of this verse. But the second half of the verse might help us think about the meaning of the first half.

“We are commanded to love the other—not only those with whom we agree—as a whole person. Like ourselves, the other is far more than his or her political, religious, or ideological opinions. The other is a whole divinely inspired being, just as we are.”

If we are unable to see those with whom we deeply disagree “as whole divinely inspired being[s], just as we are,” what happens to us? What kind of people do we become? Daddy suggests that having enemies like this results in our own unhappiness. Do you agree? Might this help you better understand Wiesel’s approach to vulnerability?

Rabbi Eilberg asks us to look at our enemy as a whole person. Are there people with whom you disagree in one area but respect in other areas? Is it possible that a person with whom you disagree and even fear has aspects that you might respect and even love if you were curious enough, and felt safe enough, to learn more about?

We see the potential value of disputes in the disagreements between two great sages, Hillel and Shammai. The tradition recognizes a difference between disputes “for the sake of Heaven” and those “not for the sake of Heaven.”

1a. Hillel and Shammai are two different groups living in relationship with each other, both aiming to understand something larger than themselves.

1b. Korach and his congregation are a group of somewhat disconnected people, all working together against the leadership of Moses and Aaron. The only connection between Korach and his congregation is a desire for power.

2a. Hillel and Shammai are listed as two sides of a larger picture. They learn from and respect each other. We are taught elsewhere that, although they disagreed on many issues, their children married one another and they ate in each other’s homes.

2b. Korach and his congregation are on the same side of a power struggle that they initiate. When Moses tries to meet with them to discuss their concerns, they refuse. There is no curiosity on their part. They have already decided that they have all the answers.

3a. The law goes according to the school of Hillel because of how they behave towards Shammai, including acknowledging Shammai’s position respectfully before stating their own. In this way, Shammai’s students know they have been heard.

3b. Korach not only does not acknowledge Moses’s position, but he is not interested in learning about it.

In the following text, Rabbi Nachman describes a Jewish mystical view of creation in which God contracts God’s Infinite Presence to create a Vacated Space. Through God’s Words, our world is created in that Vacated Space. But now the world is devoid of God’s Presence. God must find a way to re-enter the space that now holds our world.

In this understanding of creation, the metaphor for God’s Presence is a Light so strong that it must be distilled into our world through God’s Words. These Words bring God’s Light into the world in the form of vessels that tragically break apart because of the overwhelming power of the Light. The broken vessels are called “Klippot” or, literally, shards. The shards represent “evil forces” that exist in our world.

Evil forces originally came about because too much powerfulDivine Light entered the world at a crucial moment in creation. As a parallel in our human existence, evil forces continue to enter our world today because of too many spoken human words, even if those words are words of Truth. Even Torah scholars, and by extension all people with wisdom and good intent, must contract to make space for the creation of something new and bigger than themselves. They can do so by creating opportunities for the sharing of different viewpoints and by distinguishing between the time for speaking and the time for silent curiosity to learn and grow from the viewpoints of others.

“I swore never to be silent whenever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. Sometimes we must interfere.

There are many types of silence. The restraint from speaking referred to in Chullin 89a is not the silence of ignoring injustice nor the silence of apathy. It is a silence that reflects true curiosity, respect, and desire for growth.

“The real problem is when we confuse genuine dialogue with its opposite, thinking we are relating to another when in fact we are speaking and listening only to ourselves.”

Deep listening from a place of curiosity is difficult to achieve when there is a power imbalance. The following text addresses that issue:

This text calls on leaders to take initiative to create a space in which they listen closely and with curiosity to those they lead. The silence described here and in Rabbi Nachman’s text may be a useful strategy for those in power. In this way, eventually, people without power feel heard and understood. At a minimum, using this strategy allows those in power to learn more about the fears held by those they lead. Leaders can then work to address those concerns in new ways. Remember Rabbi Nachman’s advice: too many words, even if true, will be the source of “evil forces.”

“Humans need to be heard before they will listen."

Martin Buber speaks of the “Vacant Space” referred to in the Rabbi Nachman text. Buber describes that space as the foundation of human relationships:

“Our relationship lives in the space between us. It doesn’t live in me or in you or even in the dialogue between the two us. It lives in the space we live in together, and that space is sacredspace.”

“For Buber, what is most important about our lives is not what is contained within us, but what happens between us and other people in what he calls the sphere of ‘the between.’ It is in the ‘interhuman’ dimension of life where we become ourselves, where truth and meaning are created, where I and Thou meet, and where we may glimpse the divine.”

Daddy shares the same message:

DADDY: Hanan, if we manage to be vulnerable enough to empathize with the person we are arguing with, we can’t help but acknowledge them, their humanity, their dignity, and we begin to connect.

Just as I see a reflection of my own face when I look into water, I can see a reflection of my own heart if I am brave enough to look, with vulnerability and curiosity, into the heart of another. Connecting in this way with another person allows me to observe my own soul in a new light. I become aware of a sacred spark within my soul that is inaccessible to me until the moment when I perceive, with love, the reflection emanating from within that other person’s heart.

Think of someone with whom you disagree on many topics, but also love deeply. How do you understand the source of the love that you feel for this person? What do you learn about yourself from this person? In what ways have your disagreements helped you both grow?

DADDY: We need conflict, Hanan, because every conflict, every argument is an opportunity to connect and reconnect with the other person, and by doing so, we get to know the other person and ourselves in a deeper way. As partners, the two of us can create something new that’s bigger than our individual selves. But this is very important, so please listen to this carefully: until you truly love your neighbor as yourself, until you have the humility and vulnerability to think about their happiness, their dignity, their humanity, just as much as you are thinking about your own, you will never resolve conflict.

In my research for this animation on conflict resolution, I encountered many fascinating and complex theories, principles, and strategies on the subject. My study materials included a brilliant educational workshop series entitled Mahloket Matters on the “Beit Midrash Way” of how to disagree constructively, from the Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies. I spoke with Rabbi Dr. Daniel Roth, one of the authors of the series, who is also the director of Mosaica – The Religious Peace Initiative. Rabbi Roth introduced me to Rabbi Dr. Howard Kaminsky, author of Fundamentals of Jewish Conflict Resolution: Traditional Jewish Perspectives on Resolving Interpersonal Conflicts (Studies in Orthodox Judaism). This 500-plus page masterpiece breaks down conflict resolution from a theoretical and Jewish perspective. I also spoke with a professional peace activist and researched the methods of a former hostage negotiator. And, of course, I studied with numerous rabbis and text scholars and read and studied countless texts. Throughout all my research, I kept coming back to one realization: If the parties who were in conflict did not empathize with the opposing side, if they did not truly stand in the other person’s shoes, then even the best strategies and theories failed to resolve the conflict in a meaningful and lasting way.

On its surface, the concept of empathy seems simple.

However, empathy requires a person to become vulnerable, to become exposed. This exposure elicits fear, especially around someone whom you perceive as your enemy. As a result, as much as we aspire to love our neighbor as ourselves, we tend to avoid doing so.

This point leads me to one of the most significant lessons I came to in my research: There is a substantial personal cost to our avoidance of vulnerability and empathy. Our fear of making ourselves vulnerable, exposing ourselves, and showing our true feelings to others; our fear of truly standing in another person’s shoes; and our fear of truly empathizing with another human being’s predicament—all for the sake of “protecting” ourselves—get in the way of forming meaningful connections with our adversaries and resolving conflict. In addition, our avoidance of vulnerability and empathy gets in the way of forming deep and meaningful connections with the people whom we love, prevents us from truly knowing ourselves, and interferes with our connection to God. I believe this is so fundamental to the human condition and to Judaism that it is clearly spelled out in the very first chapters of the Torah.

In Bereshit 2:25, we read:

I interpret this nakedness as being exposed, a type of vulnerability.

Only after they eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil were “...the eyes of both of them… opened and they perceived that they were naked; and they sewed together fig leaves and made themselves loincloths” (Bereshit 3:7). This passage demonstrates that shame is something that is learned. You must have knowledge to feel shame. The Torah goes on to describe how they “hid.” When God asks, “Where are you?” the answer is “I heard the sound of You in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid.” (Bereshit 3:10). This is also the first time the Torah describes man feeling fear. God goes on to ask: “Who told you that you were naked?” (Bereshit 3:11).

I interpret “Who told you that you were naked?” as God questioning the assumption of nakedness itself. Who told you that this condition that you freely accepted before is now “nakedness”? Maybe nakedness (i.e. vulnerability) is a good thing as opposed to something that causes shame and fear.

I believe the Torah is presenting this learned behavior (our avoidance of being vulnerable, our unwillingness to expose ourselves, our shame and fear of “nakedness”) as the reason Adam and Eve hid from God and eventually led to the “fall.” Only once we can truly love our neighbor as ourselves and overcome our fear of being vulnerable (exposed, naked) enough to empathize with the other person can we truly connect with that person. That connection, in turn, allows us to connect with our deepest selves and, ultimately, with God. Rabbi Nachman and Rav Kook believe that we need conflict because we need the opposing side to help us create and build something new and larger than ourselves. But this is going to require both vulnerability and empathy. Maybe this is what the rabbis were talking about when they wrote about Olam Ha-Ba (the World to Come) or a return to Gan Eden (the Garden of Eden).

Hanan Harchol

December 2020