He (Rabbi Chaninah ben Dosa) used to say: If the spirit of one's fellows is pleased with him, the spirit of the Omnipresent is pleased with him; but if the spirit of one's fellows is iniot pleased with him, the spirit of the Omnipresent is not pleased with him.
On the surface, this Mishnah appears to be straightforward and simple. The quality of one's relationship with G-d is not secure without securing one's relationship with the community. We can not expect G-d to regard us with merit and compassion if we do not have a similar relationship with our fellows. G-d's greatest goal, peace and justice, are served only when we foster those goals within our community.
Yet, I worry that this places a great deal of power in the hands of others. Should G-d's regard for me be at the mercy of how others feel about me? Can I not merit G-d's favor, whether or not my good deeds are recognized by others?
There is a story of a wealthy miser who was known throughout his town for his refusal to give to the community charity fund. No matter how the elders of the community put their request, he would contribute little or nothing at all to help those in his town who depended on the charity of others. As the miser lay on his deathbed, the elders tried once more, arguing with him that his place in the World to Come may depend on his willingness to repent his miserly ways. He refused, turning his face to the wall. When the miser died, their anger against him was so great that the elders debated whether he deserved a place in the cemetery.
Then, a curious thing happened. The Rabbi noticed that the requests for assistance from the charitable fund started to increase. The tailor, who had never asked before, suddenly needed help to maintain his family. The cobbler too approached the Rabbi for help, as did others in the community. The Rabbi started to investigate what was causing this increasing need in his community.
The tailor told him that he had been able to stave off his weekly struggle to earn a living because every Friday morning he would find a small bag of money on his doorstep. He had no idea where it came from, but it made the difference between his small income and what he needed to feed his family. The cobbler told the same story. As the Rabbi investigated further, he found many who had been able to make ends meet because of an unknown benefactor whose support was found on Friday mornings.
The Rabbi came to suspect that the miser was in fact this secret benefactor, and with his death came the end of his largesse. The Rabbi prayed that the soul of the miser would forgive him for his misundertanding. In a dream, the miser came to the Rabbi and told him that he held no grudge against the Rabbi, but wished only for one more Thursday night.
I tell this story to illustrate the point that we can have good deeds that go unnoticed and unmentioned. These good deeds increase our merit in G-d's eyes, though they do not affect how others view us.
I want to argue that we can understand this Mishnah differently. Rather than placing power into the hands of others to determine our merit in G-d's eyes, this Mishna creates a responsiblity in others to judge us with compassion and understanding so that we may achieve merit. It becomes the responsibility of each of us to judge our fellow in the most positive light because it is our judgement that can affect G-d's judgement. As awesome as this power may be, it is equalled by the responsibility that it brings.
(As presented to CAI 3/31/2006)
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