One of the traditional greetings that we hear exchanged starting on Motzoei Pesach and in the ensuing days is, “Ah gezunten zummer – A healthy summer.” I heard some of my Israeli friends also saying, “Kayitz bari.”
Now, of course, the poshut pshat of those words is that we wish our friends and acquaintances a healthy summer, hoping that they will be physically healthy. Certainly, it is important to be physically healthy. Blood pressure should be normal, cholesterol should be normal, and maintaining a healthy weight is important, as are myriad other health matters.
A Different Type of Healthy
Yet, when I heard those words repeatedly, I kept thinking about other “healthy habits,” like not constantly anxiously looking over one’s shoulder to make sure that you conform with every (often foolish) societal norm imposed upon you. Healthy can mean being happy, being b’simcha with your present situation, even as you recognize areas for improvement. Healthy can mean understanding yourself, your boundaries, your limitations—what makes you calm and what sets you off.
One of the unhealthiest tendencies I notice more and more is how obsessed so many of us have become with what others think of us. “What are they thinking of me? What ‘box’ are they putting me in? What will happen if people think I am x, y, or z?”
In many ways, we have become a very judgmental society. We are constantly judging others (and ourselves) and making conclusions based on those judgments.
Not Being Judgmental is Unrelated to Our Inner Compass of Right vs. Wrong
Before we talk about judgmentalism, an important disclaimer is in order. When we say that judgmentalism is bad or negative, we are not referring to the internal compass that should guide a person in distinguishing right from wrong. We are not suggesting that everything others do is wonderful, and that if we view anything negatively, we are automatically being judgmental and wrong.
It is crucial for every person to have standards. If a person looks at everything others do as great and okay, then he has no standards.
I will refer to this concept as the “ahavas chinom” and “poshute Yid” syndrome. There seems to be a trend among some to justify mediocrity—or worse—by borrowing religious-sounding terms like “ahavas chinom” or “poshute Yid,” thereby lowering their Yiddishkeit and standards to the lowest common denominator.
That is not what I mean when I say that judgmentalism is one of the very unhealthy, pervasive forces among us.
Just Imagine!
What I mean by judgmentalism—of both others and ourselves—is the insecurity so many feel over not being exactly like everyone else, as if, chas v’shalom, lightning might strike.
Imagine if every time you left your house you didn’t feel compelled to look in the mirror to ensure that you looked perfect—not because of kavod habriyos, but because you felt everyone is scrutinizing and judging you.
Now, imagine that people didn’t judge you for wearing a yarmulka with four parts, five parts, or six parts, with a rim or without a rim, cloth or velvet…
Imagine if, when you walked outside, people weren’t examining how your peyos are trimmed or how far behind your ears they reach…
There may be some who don’t even understand what I’m referencing with these examples, but, sadly, there are many more who do.
This is just a tiny example relating to boys’ and men’s styles. In women’s and girls’ clothing, my understanding is that there are so many nuances that I would overrun my word count—and perhaps the entire newspaper’s word count—if I even began discussing it.
When we start judging every person we see, and when the people being judged (that means all of us) know that they are being judged and live under that pressure, we become very unhealthy. Nothing feels real. Nothing feels authentic. We are all judging and being judged.
The Difference Between the Pre-Holocaust and Post-Holocaust Generations
The less emotionally resilient we are, the less we are able to cope with being judged, and the less comfortable and happy we become in our own skin.
A prominent mechanech recently told me that he believes that one of the primary contributors to the difficulties we face as a society is judgmentalism, specifically the way parents judge their children.
Rav Shlomo Wolbe once said that the primary difference between the generation before the Holocaust and those after is the lack of backbone in the latter. The earlier generation had strength of conviction and was able to hold their ground, even at the expense of others’ approval.
Because today’s young people are more emotionally needy, they need to feel “held of,” and they are extremely sensitive to gauging whether their parents truly “hold of them.” At the same time, the most important factor in their lives is what their parents think of them. When they sense that their parents are judging them and don’t “hold of them,” it can stunt their spiritual growth and cause them to shut down, become angry and rebellious, etc.
While we must, of course, maintain standards and know what we want, we must simultaneously realize that every person is different and has been given a different skill set and life circumstances. When we paint everyone with the same brush, we are not being fair.
Who Is a Tachton and Who Is an Elyon?
Let me share something written by the Mabit in the introduction to his sefer Bais Elokim. He cites the well-known Gemara that states, “When a person comes to the next world, he will be surprised to see that elyonim l’matah v’tachtonim l’maalah”—those who were “up” in this world are “down” in the next world, and those who were “down” in this world are “up” in the next world.
The simple understanding is that someone who seemed to have everything in this world—who was praised and admired—will be found at the bottom of the totem pole in the next world. Simultaneously, someone who was overlooked and spurned in shidduchim will be seen as among the loftiest.
However, that is not how the Mabit understands this Gemara. He explains that the meaning of tachtonim l’maalah is that even someone viewed as a “tachton,” a lowly person who did not accomplish as much as he should have, and who perhaps transgressed, may be considered distinguished in the next world. Why? Because, based on the tools and the magnitude of the yeitzer hara he was given, the fact that he only fell as much as he did and did not fall further makes him even more distinguished than the rosh yeshiva who was endowed with a great mind and a passion for learning, and who delivered wonderful shiurim, but who never really left his comfort zone for the sake of Hashem.
What is the Mabit telling us? That when we look at another person, we must refrain from judging based on appearances. We don’t see everything. We don’t know his struggles, his yeitzer hara, or mitigating factors. Of course, not judging someone does not mean that we should imitate his actions, but it does mean that we must avoid judging.
“I Just Don’t Judge!”
Imagine if we could all walk outside without feeling that we are being judged. Imagine if people felt that they were being looked at with an ayin tovah by others. Imagine how much healthier we would be as a society.
Let me conclude with a small but powerful anecdote. I currently have the zechus of working on a book about the great mashgiach of Lakewood, Rav Matisyohu Salomon zt”l. One story about Rebbetzin Salomon made a tremendous impact on me.
Her daughter once marveled at how her mother reacted to a certain incident and asked her, “Mummy, how do you judge such a person favorably?”
Let me share the rebbetzin’s pithy and profound response: “I don’t judge favorably. I just don’t judge!”
