“Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.”—Alfred, Lord Tennyson
If everything in the world has a purpose, R’ Chaim Ozer Grodzinksy once was asked, what is the purpose of faulty reasoning? R’ Chaim Ozer answered, “To use it to judge others favorably.”
Such reasoning may well be needed to understand events surrounding the making of the Golden Calf.
A cursory reading of the story seems to present a harsh indictment against Aharon; after all, the whole thing was his idea (see Shemos 32:2). But, in fact, Aharon’s intentions were righteous (see e.g. Da’as Z’keinim ad loc.)—a failed attempt to keep the people at bay with a fool’s errand until Moshe’s return. In the end, things turned out differently when the people donated to the cause enthusiastically.
When Moshe about heard what was going on, he was not immediately angered. For the moment, he gave the Jewish people the benefit of the doubt, waiting until he personally could see what had transpired before passing judgment (see Shemos 32:7-15).
Both aspects of this episode highlight the importance of judging others favorably. On the surface, Aharon’s involvement with the Golden Calf seems a terrible offense, but upon reflection we learn that he acted with the purest of motives. Moshe gave the benefit of the doubt to the Jewish people, when instead of passing judgment immediately, he waited until he was certain of their wrongdoing.
Entire books could be (and have been) written just about judging others favorably. Here are the basics.
Obligation or Recommendation?
“Judge your neighbor righteously” (Vayikra 19:15), says the Torah, which means, among other things, judge others favorably (see Shavuos 30a). Indeed, some authorities indicate that doing so is a biblical obligation (see also Rambam, Sefer HaMitzvos 177; Sha’arei T’shuva, Positive Commandment 3 and 3:218).
But several sources imply that judging others favorably is nothing more than good advice. “Make for yoursel
f a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge everyone favorably” (Avos 1:6 and Rabbeinu Ovadya MiBartenura ad loc.). “One who judges his friend favorably will be judged favorably by G-d” (Shabbos 127b), while suspicion of the upstanding warrants physical affliction (Shabbos 97a; Yoma 19b). These teachings make it sound like good advice but nothing compulsory.
In fact, to some authorities it is merely “praiseworthy” conduct (Rambam, Avos 1:6; Rambam, Dei’os 5:7; Rambam, Sanhedrin 23:10), and the biblical source nothing more than a hermeneutical hint (Meiri, Shavuos 30a).
Benefit of the Doubt Benefits
Why judge others favorably? Well, why not? The benefits redound not only to those being judged, but also to those doing the judging.
“One who judges his friend favorably will be judged favorably by G-d” (Shabbos 127b; Sh’miras HaLashon, Sha’ar HaT’vuna Chapter 4). Judging others favorably offers yet another opportunity to emulate G-d (Tomer D’vora, Chapter 1). It promotes peaceful and friendly relationships (Rashi, Shabbos 127b; Sefer HaChinuch 235); allows us to benefit from the positive influence of others (Meiri, Chibbur HaTeshuva 1:4); and enables us to love others as we love ourselves (see Yesod V’Shoresh Ha’Avoda pg. 15).
Bottom line? It’s a win-win proposition.
Context is Key
Practically, the benefit of the doubt must be tempered by reality in a balancing act that seeks to achieve a moral equilibrium. Such a balance ought to recognize that some individuals have earned the right to be viewed favorably (or, more accurately, have done nothing to warrant a departure from such a presumption), while others, by reason of their own (mis)conduct, are entitled to no such deference.
In some instances, we are told that everyone is entitled to the benefit of the doubt (Avos 1:6; Rambam, Dei’os 5:7; Rambam, Sanhedrin 23:10), while in others it seems limited to those specifically deserving of such a benefit (Vayikra 19:15; Shavuos 30a; Rambam, Sefer HaMitzvos 177). The Chofetz Chaim explains that one is obligated to judge favorably someone known to be an upright Jew, but when the person is not known (or is known to be wicked), doing so is simply an act of piety (see Chofetz Chaim, Introduction, Positive Commandment 3).
Others suggest a sliding scale of sorts: righteous people must be judged favorably even if the circumstances indicate wrongdoing; average or unknown people also should be judged favorably; wicked people are not entitled to the benefit of the doubt (Sha’arei Teshuva 3:218; She’iltos D’Rav Achai Gaon, Shemos 40; Rambam, Avos 1:6). Put simply, we must always give the righteous the benefit of the doubt (see e.g. Berachos 19a); we must always be suspicious of the wicked; it is praiseworthy (but not obligatory) to judge favorably the average or unknown person.
R’ Samson Raphael Hirsch notes that the verse from which we derive the notion of judging favorably—“with righteousness shall you judge your neighbor” (Vayikra 19:15)—contains two seemingly contradictory ideas: strict justice and the benefit of the doubt (R’ Samson Raphael Hirsch, Vayikra 19:15). How can both ideas coexist? Context. A judge’s duty is to examine the act itself, whereas society views actions in context. So while we demand from judges an uncompromising impartiality which ignores character and context, those outside the courthouse are encouraged (if not commanded) to do just the opposite.
An assistant to the Skulener Rebbe once related that, among the many people the Rebbe saved from certain death at the hands of the Nazis (y”s) was a woman who had previously served as an informant to the Rumanian government on the Rebbe’s religious activities. Asked why he would save such a person, the Rebbe’s eyes filled with tears. “You have no idea how much she suffered beforehand, and how tempting the authorities make it to inform.” Context is key.
Sometimes, as in the case of those who pose continuing dangers, context compels an altogether different attitude. In such circumstances, one must be vigilant of suspicious individuals without undue regard for the benefit of the doubt (Sefer Chassidim 1088; Sefer Chareidim, T’shuva Chapter 4). “Let everyone be in your eyes as a bandit, yet respect him as Rabban Gamliel,” who would honor his guests but safeguard himself from them (Kalla Rabasi 8:1; Rashi, Ta’anis 23b; see Derech Eretz Rabba 5:4). Or, as the Russian proverb turned Reagan favorite puts it, “Trust but verify.” Those who place others in harm’s way deserve no benefit of the doubt.
The Story That Sums It All Up
A story involving the very half-shekel about which we read this week places a finer curlicue on all these issues.
Upon winning the right to maintain a strictly Torah-true educational system, the K’sav Sofer invited Austria-Hungary’s leading Torah scholars and community leaders to a celebration of thanksgiving. As the celebration reached its crescendo, the K’sav Sofer declared that, in honor of the occasion, he wished to share with the assembled crowd something they had never before seen.
All eyes were glued to the K’sav Sofer as he produced from his wallet a small object wrapped in silk—it was an ancient silver coin.
“Gentlemen, you are looking at a genuine half-shekel coin, such as was donated to the Temple two thousand years ago (see Shemos 30:12-16). I inherited it from my father, and it has been my family’s prized possession for generations. There is none other like it in the world today.”
The crowd was awestruck. An actual half-shekel from Temple times! The coin passed from hand to hand so all present could examine it and spirited discussions echoed throughout the room. But before long, people were clamoring for the coin to no avail. It had vanished!
Silence descended upon the crowded room, and all eyes turned to the K’sav Sofer, whose face was white at the prospect of his loss.
“G‑d forbid that I suspect anyone here of stealing the coin. But we were all so engrossed in analyzing the half-shekel and its significance. Perhaps it was accidentally mistaken for another coin and slipped into someone’s pocket by mistake. I respectfully ask that everyone empty their pockets.”
Everyone sympathized with the K’sav Sofer and quickly agreed to his request—that is, until they heard a voice from across the room. “I oppose such a search,” called out an elderly, eminent Torah scholar. “Let’s wait 15 minutes. Perhaps in that time the coin will turn up.”
The K’sav Sofer had great respect for this sage and agreed to his suggestion. The time passed and there still was no trace of the coin.
“All right,” said the K’sav Sofer, “now let’s empty our pockets.”
To everyone’s surprise, the old sage again objected, requesting another fifteen-minute delay. The K’sav Sofer agreed, and everyone sat impatiently as another 15 minutes passed. Several of the guests suspected that the objecting sage had pocketed the coin and asked for extra time to come up with a clever way to return it.
At long last, the time was up and there was no sign of the coin. The K’sav Sofer rose again. “Gentlemen, I have the greatest respect for our esteemed colleague but we can postpone the search no longer.”
Everyone was astonished when the elderly sage once again stood up to halt the process. This time his voice shook and tears streamed down his face. “Please, remember the great love between me and your father (the Chasam Sofer), and let us wait another fifteen minutes. If the coin hasn’t been found by then, we will do as you see fit.”
The K’sav Sofer hesitated, but then nodded his head in acquiescence. The tension was palpable. The old sage stood in a corner of the room, his lips moving rapidly in silent prayer. The K’sav Sofer sat at the other end, his pale face etched with worry. The guests waited nervously, expecting the old sage to confess to the theft.
Suddenly, all eyes turned toward the door, which burst open as the K’sav Sofer’s attendant charged in with the good news. “The coin has been found!”
The crowd surrounded the attendant, each person wanting to verify the coin’s actual presence. The K’sav Sofer demanded an explanation.
“When I saw everyone deeply involved in discussion, I decided to use the opportunity to begin cleaning up. I removed the tablecloths and shook them out over the garbage to get rid of all the crumbs. Then I heard the coin was missing, and I worried that it might have been put down on one of the tables and inadvertently thrown out with the rest of the garbage. I went to the trash pile and sifted through its mountain of refuse until something sparkling caught my eye.”
Now the elderly sage requested permission to speak. Everyone listened eagerly, waiting with bated breath for an explanation of his bizarre requests.
“Just as our host,” he began, “I too possess a genuine half-shekel coin, passed down from generation to generation in my family. In honor of today’s festive gathering, I decided to surprise you all by displaying it. But then our host preempted me and showed his coin, proclaiming it unique. Not wanting it to detract from his presentation, I left my half-shekel in my pocket.
“Now, imagine if the search had been conducted. The coin in my pocket would have been identified, and I would have been suspected of theft. That is why I tried everything I could to delay the process, the whole time praying that I would be spared such terrible embarrassment.”
The venerable sage produced a coin from his pocket and passed it to the dumbfounded crowd. It was indeed identical to that of the K’sav Sofer.
Now the K’sav Sofer rose once more. “Gentlemen, this evening has provided a more profound perspective of the true meaning of judging others favorably. Had the search been conducted and the coin discovered in our colleague’s pocket, can anyone here honestly claim they would not have presumed he had stolen my coin—especially after I had influenced you by saying there wasn’t another one like it in the world?”