How to disagree respectfully? - Parashat Vayeshev 5785
We recently finished a short round of classes called “How to Disagree Respectfully.” We learned different examples, mainly from the Talmud and the Mishna, of how the sages could discuss and disagree without losing their minds. We studied their different visions on simple questions, such as “How to light the Hanukkah candles?” and even more fundamental questions, like "Was it worth it for human beings to be created?”
The rabbis and sages did not hesitate when they meant to insult someone or when they wanted to push someone away. And yet, they were able to discuss and disagree respectfully. It doesn’t mean they accepted every opinion, but at least it means they could listen to other views. To listen, in this case, means to put my own opinions at risk. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong; I guess I’m right, but I’m open to the possibility of being wrong. Therefore, I can hear other people’s opinions.
When did we lose this ability? Why it happened? How do we live now in such a polarized society that any person who does not think like me is automatically a traitor, a fascist, a communist, or just a jerk?
Because we got used to seeing things from far away. We don’t reach the matter to examine it with our eyes, but we prefer to read about it through social media, the internet, TV, news, podcasts, and more. Each of them is a blessing; it allows to spread large amounts of information in a short time to every place in the world. But we stopped talking to our neighbors, partners, relatives, and co-workers. The problem was accelerated with platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or any other social network. I’m not criticizing them; I’m saying that since the main goal of those platforms is to catch our attention, they ultimately became a resonance box of our values and ideas. And whenever we read or see a post that does not match our personal opinions, our rage is activated, catching even more of our attention.
The actual dialogue between people made possible respectful disagreements. Unfortunately, because of the distance, we are losing that ability.
It is what happened to Joseph and his brothers. Parashat Vayeshev presents the story of Yosef and what happened to him once his siblings began feeling jealous of him. They got so deep into this “group thinking” that the Torah tells us “they hated him so that they could not speak a friendly word to him” (Bereshit / Genesis 37:4) in Hebrew ולא יכלו דברו לשלום.
The Torah continues:
“One time, when his brothers had gone to pasture their father’s flock at Shechem.” (Ibid. 12). And shortly after that: לַהֲמִיתֽוֹ׃
They saw him from afar, and before he came close to them, they conspired to kill him. (Ibid vers. 18).
Sadly, they couldn’t see him as a brother or partner. They were too far away from him. Maybe not physically, but in terms of love and care. Yosef was no longer considered a brother. And all because of that distance, the lack of empathy.
It is very easy to blame others for their lack of empathy, but what about ourselves? Have we reached out to people we know who think, talk, or believe differently from us to have a deep conversation with them?
“But they don’t want to talk to us?” Well, it certainly won’t work if you only send a message on Facebook or you text them. Knock the door! As a Rabbi, I often hear the most various opinions from people from a wide range of backgrounds. Democrats, Republicans, more pro-Israel, and less, people who grew up almost orthodox; some come from reform, reconstructionist congregations, and some of you just heard about synagogues when their parents passed away. And I’m glad that, as a congregation, we manage to pray, study, and build this place together because if we can do that around a very sensitive issue like relation, how much more can we do in other simpler areas of our lives?
That’s why it is so important to be present, to take part, to influence, and to be influenced by others. The real exchange of ideas happens in the real world. The virtual world has enormous advantages, yet it will never replace face-to-face contact.
Joseph’s brother preferred to talk about it, maybe through a Zoom meeting, instead of speaking face to face. Perhaps it was all about a post on Facebook and dozens of comments saying, “Neh… We knew who you are,” or likes, reposts, etc. What would happen if, instead of seeing him from a long distance, they had approached him to see if a dialogue was possible?
The end of this well-known story is positive. The brothers were reunited, and Ya’akov could see his son again after he thought he was dead. A fruitful nation settled in Egypt, but then again, the Egyptians saw the Israelites from far away rather than reaching out to them closer.
Sometimes, dialogue is not possible. Crises are also inevitable; they are part of the growing process, but what if we could grow without hurting?
Shabbat Shalom!