By Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel in Chula Vista, California
When you think of critics, what comes to mind? Art, literature, music, food, movies, books, sports, and more. Criticism is a well-respected profession in our society. Everyone indulges in it at one time or another. Many of us treat it as our God-given right and privilege.
Did I ever tell you the story about the critic? Here it goes:
While traveling separately through the countryside late one afternoon, a Hindu, a Rabbi, and a Critic were caught in the same area by a terrific thunderstorm. They sought shelter at a nearby farmhouse. “That storm will be raging for hours,” the farmer told them. “You’d better stay here for the night. The problem is, there’s only room enough for two of you. One of you’ll have to sleep in the barn.”
“I’ll be the one,” said the Hindu. “A little hardship is nothing for me.” He went out to the barn. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. It was the Hindu. “I’m sorry,” he told the others, “but there is a cow in the barn. According to my religion, cows are sacred, and one must never intrude into their space.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Rabbi. “Make yourself comfortable here. I’ll go to sleep in the barn.” He went out to the barn. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was the Rabbi. “I hate to be a bother,” he said, “but there is a pig in the barn. In my religion, pigs are considered unclean. I wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing my sleeping quarters with a pig.”
“Oh, all right,” said the Critic. “I’ll go sleep in the barn.” He went out to the barn.
A few moments later, there was a knock on the door. It was the cow and the pig.
The point, of course, is that while we may be tolerant of religious diversity, what most of us cannot tolerate is arrogance and the pretense of superiority or the illusion of perfection. Let me fill you in on a little secret, if you haven’t already figured it out: no one, no thing, is perfect on this side of Eden.
Nobody likes critics as a whole. Yet our tradition teaches us that there is an art to giving criticism. In ancient Israel, the prophets were the Jewish people’s greatest critics. Jewish tradition teaches that the entire Book of Deuteronomy was spoken by Moses in the last five weeks of his life. It was his last will and testament to his beloved people.
Because the Israelites were about to enter the Land of Canaan, Moses began his words by reminding them of the long string of sins and rebellions that had marked the 40 years since the Exodus.
Watergate, Tiananmen Square, and Tehran shootings—mere mention of these names evokes national trauma and profound questions of leadership and moral conduct. In his final address to the Israelites on the threshold of the Promised Land, Moses similarly invokes specific places to allude to past national failings without shaming the people directly.
אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־כָּל־יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן בַּמִּדְבָּר בָּעֲרָבָה מוֹל סוּף בֵּין־פָּארָן וּבֵין תֹּפֶל וְלָבָן וַחֲצֵרֹת וְדִי זָהָב׃
These are the words that Moses addressed to all Israel on the other side of the Jordan—through the wilderness, in the Arabah near Suph, between Paran and Tophel, Laban, Hazeroth, and Di-zahab. (Deuteronomy 1:1)
Rashi explains Moses’ deliberate choice of place names:
“These are the words”: Because these are words of rebuke, and he enumerates here all the places where they angered the Omnipresent, he therefore veiled the matters and alluded to them indirectly, out of respect for Israel. (Rashi on Deuteronomy 1:1)
Moses sought both to rebuke the nation and to safeguard its dignity. By naming the sites of transgression without recounting the sins themselves, he delivered criticism with restraint and honor.
Delivering constructive criticism remains one of the most delicate of interpersonal arts. Without careful discretion, the recipient may experience it as a personal assault, triggering defensiveness, rationalization, or retaliation. Contemporary insights on effective feedback highlight two essential practices: describe the problematic behavior with utmost specificity and focus criticism on the action rather than the character of the individual. The Torah adds a third, profound principle: the critic must prioritize the preservation of the other’s dignity above all.
Rather than explicitly recounting each failure, Moses used veiled references to the places where the Israelites had encamped. He was careful not to mention the sins outright, thereby avoiding embarrassment and preserving the people’s honor.
The power of a rebuke is mighty indeed. When it comes from the heart of a wise parent drawing on painful personal experiences, it can truly guide and protect a child. Only a fool would turn a deaf ear to such constructive criticism.
Unfortunately, most of us do not know how to admonish properly.
Too often we criticize with glee and a false sense of superiority. We act smug and self-righteous. Are we not like the man in Garry Moore’s witty response to crank letters? He would write: “The enclosed letter arrived on my desk a few days ago. I am sending it to you in the belief that as a responsible citizen you should know that some idiot is sending out letters over your signature.”
Implying that someone is an idiot is a sure way to render the message useless. Such an admonition would be better left unsaid. The night of Tisha b’Av (which this year falls on Saturday night) is one of the most moving in the Jewish calendar. We come together to mourn the destruction of the two Temples and read the Book of Lamentations. We hear the haunting words that echo Moses’ own lament:
“Eicha! How can it be? How can I alone bear the hard work of you? The burden of you? The strife of you?” (Deuteronomy 1:12)
As we reminisce, we reconstruct our past. But more importantly, we must see how the errors of the past continue to haunt us today. The simple fact that the entire congregation sits on the ground or on low stools while listening to the mournful tune of Lamentations serves as a shocking reminder that, as a people, we share too many occasions dedicated to reliving moments of destruction and exile.
To forget the past is to be condemned to repeat it. — George Santayana
Leviticus 19:17 teaches: “Do not hate your brother in your heart; you shall surely rebuke your fellow…” Too often, we fail to fulfill this mitzvah properly. We forget that the person we are criticizing is our fellow human being. Our sages teach that we should rebuke only those with whom we have a relationship and who might heed the words.
The Talmud records a powerful exchange (Arachin 16b): R. Tarfon said: “I wonder if there is anyone in this generation capable of giving reproof. For if anyone says to another, ‘Take the chip from between your teeth,’ the other retorts, ‘Take the beam from between your eyes.’” R. Eleazar ben Azariah said: “I wonder whether there is anyone in this generation capable of accepting reproof.” R. Akiva said: “I wonder whether there is anyone in this generation who knows how to give reproof without humiliating the one reproved.”
Moses models the ideal: criticism offered with wisdom, specificity, humility, and above all, respect for human dignity. In a world quick to criticize with arrogance, may we learn from his example—rebuking when necessary, but always veiling the words just enough to preserve the honor of the other.
Shabbat Shalom.
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Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel is the spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista, California.