Shortly after Rabbi Joseph Babad (author of the classic work Minchat Chinuch) was appointed as the rabbi of Tarnipol in Galicia, he was approached by a man who revealed to him that he was instrumental in getting him the position. Rabbi Babad expressed his gratitude to him for his assistance.
A while later, this man came to the rabbi to adjudicate a business dispute he had with another member of the Jewish community. Rabbi Babad, upon recognizing the man as the one who had told him about his support for him in the past, declined to be involved in his case.
To justify his unwillingness to be involved in his case, the rabbi cited an incident recorded in this week’s Parsha:
The daughters of the deceased Tzelafechad approached Moses and demanded that they be permitted to inherit their father’s share in the Land of Israel. They argued that their father died in the desert, and that he was not among those who joined Korach’s rebellion against Moses. Moses did not reply to their request. Instead he approached G-d for guidance. The A-mighty agreed with the daughters of Tzelafechad that they should be given their father’s share of the land.
“it always troubled me,” the rabbi of Tarnipol said to his supporter, “Why did Moses not try to respond to their query himself? Why did he have to ask G-d to adjudicate this case?
“The answer to this question has now become clear to me,” Rabbi Babad continued. “When Moses heard how their father did not support Moses’ adversary, the rebel Korach, he felt that this was a form of verbal bribery. He could no longer be objective in deciding whether or not they were entitled to their father’s inheritance.”
“ Similarly, here,” Rabbi Babad concluded, “When you told me how much support you’ve given me in the past, I can no longer be objective; I will always have a subconscious bias for you.”
The obvious lesson of this story is that one has to go to extremes to maintain objectivity when called upon to render judgment about people. And, in general, one must never allow their integrity to be compromised.
But, as Chassidic thought teaches us, every negative phenomenon also contains a positive counterpart. Just as there is verbal bribery that clouds our judgment and causes us to miscarry justice, so too there can and must be verbal bribery that is positive and praiseworthy, precisely because it clouds our judgment.
When the famous prospective convert approached the Sage Hillel, asking him to teach the entire Torah while standing on one foot, Hillel’s historic response was “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.”
Commentators ask, why Hillel did not phrase this in the affirmative, “What is desirable to you, do to your fellow?”
Chassidic philosophy provides the following answer: We are all aware of our own shortcomings. Yet, self love allows us to overlook them. The bias we have for ourselves enables us to look the other way and get on with life. We are bribed by self love. Similarly, we should allow ourselves to be so partial to our fellow, that even when they possess flaws, we should not want to focus on them (except than when we have the ability to help them repair the shortcomings).
As the rabbi of Tarnipol could not judge that individual who expressed his involvement on behalf of the rabbi, because he felt some measure of partiality, so too shall we be incapable of judging our fellow human-being. (Unless, of course, we are called upon to mediate between two people’s claims. Then, we have an obligation to divest ourselves of any biases, even favorable ones, because what may be favorable to one, could be harmful to the other.)
We are now situated in the period known as the “Three Weeks,” that commemorates the tragedies that occurred in the past, particularly the destruction of Jerusalem and the Holy Temple. Our Talmudic Sages describe the level of decay that plagued the Jewish community then that led to the catastrophe. It was Sinat Chinam, or senseless hatred that was the cause of their downfall.
Today, the Lubavitcher Rebbe has constantly stressed, our role is to reverse the process of destruction by transforming the senseless hatred into “senseless love.” This means that we should become so favorably biased about each other that we can no longer harbor any feelings of negative judgment (except, of course, where that judgment is directed at helping people deal with their problems). And just as we love ourselves, not because of any specific logical reason, so too, shall we direct our love to others in ways that transcend the boundaries of logic—Ahavat Chinam