To do Hashem's Will we must first seek to know His Will which consists of two parts: the halachah which is equally binding to all Jews and the particular mission for which Hashem created each of us individually. Too often however our quest for understanding either aspect of Hashem's Will -- particularly the latter -- is stifled because we are too involved in another question: “What will the neighbors say?”

To say of someone “He really wants to know what the Ribono Olam wants from him not what the neighbors will say” is very high praise indeed.

That is not to argue that communal standards are unimportant. They can often serve as an important lo lishmah that brings us to the lishmah. Most chillul Hashem could be avoided if we spent more time visualizing the consequences of our behavior becoming generally known.

The commentators explain that all of Klal Yisrael was punished with defeat at Ai for Achan's act of violating the cherem on Jericho. Had Achan been certain that he would be subjected to opprobrium if his taking plunder were discovered he would never have violated the cherem.

But too great a concern with communal standards is frequently a means of lowering our own self-expectations. What others do becomes the upper limit on what we demand of ourselves and in some areas like tzniyus communal standards can become a substitute for halachah.

Even where the behavior of our neighbors is well within the parameters of halachah as is the case for almost all Mishpacha readers if the opinion or reaction of our neighbors to what we do becomes a prime motivator for us we come perilously close to entering the realm of mitzvos anashim m'limudah rote performance of mitzvos.

Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler writes that any mitzvah done only because our parents taught us to do it earns us no reward. That does not mean that we must wash negel vasser in a different way than our father does. Rather it means that we must think about what we are doing and thereby appropriate the mitzvah for ourselves by putting something of ourself into the mitzvah. When we are constantly looking around us to determine what our neighbors will say even our mitzvos do not fully belong to us.

REMEMBERING THAT EACH OF US has a unique mission that belongs to no one else is the best antidote to allowing ourselves to be driven by what the neighbors will say. That mission belongs to no one else and no one else has been provided with the tools to perform it or been placed in the same life situation as we have. Each of us is born with certain strengths and specific weaknesses to overcome and provided with a variety of challenges. How we utilize those strengths and overcome our challenges constitutes our unique song of praise to Hashem -- the specific message we convey to the world about what it means to be a Jew shaped by the Torah.

Since no one else shares the same exact mission no one else can set the standard for me. That is not to say that others cannot provide invaluable guidance on how to overcome particular weaknesses or provide models worthy of emulation. Hashem's world is one of interrelationships and learning from others is one aspect of that interrelationship.

But it does mean that the incessant ranking of ourselves vis-à-vis others that most of us engage in is pointless. We are not in competition with others because we are ultimately not playing the same game. We are in competition only with ourselves and will be measured against the scale of what we could have achieved with the “gifts” we received from Hashem.

Recognizing that we will not be judged in relation to anyone else is a potential cure for the low self-image of those who imagine themselves to be at the bottom of the class and for the gaavah of those who rank at the top. The Tolna Rebbe recently spoke for over an hour on this topic in Los Angeles. Among the many of meshalim he used was that of an airplane. In the eyes of the world and oftentimes himself the pilot of a jumbo jet ranks far above the maintenance worker responsible for oiling the landing gear and might not even give the latter the time of the day. Certainly the pilot is paid much more. Yet the failure of the maintenance worker to do his job properly is as capable of bringing about as much disaster as pilot error.

In his chapters on anavah (humility) in Mesilas Yesharim the Ramchal repeatedly decries the tendency to look down on others. How often do we try to salve our own feelings of failure by looking at others -- e.g. the nonreligious -- to whom we can feel superior? But the greatest among us -- and at the same time the most humble -- never do that because they realize all comparisons to others are ultimately irrelevant. We are judged only in relation to ourselves. We have no basis for looking down at others whose accomplishments do not match our own because we were assigned and given the tools for a different mission than they were and we can never know which of us is performing his or her mission better. The badchanim who cheer people up may turn out to be the only people guaranteed ben Olam Haba in the marketplace even if only Eliyahu HaNavi could discern their true status (Taanis 22b).  

Surely the Chazon Ish knew that no one pushed himself as he did to the limits of his physical capabilities. But he did not pride himself on that hasmadah. Rather he viewed the techunos hanefesh that allowed him to do so as another gift from Hashem and told himself that another born with the same techunos hanefesh might have driven himself even harder.

The true anav is at once the best-balanced and freest person because he cannot be touched by either the praise of the world nor its contempt. The only judgment that counts for him is his own cheshbon hanefesh based on rigorous self-examination of how he is fulfilling the mission assigned him by Hashem.

He is also the deepest person Rav Yerucham Levovitz's man of contemplation who like Avraham Avinu comes to knowledge of His Creator through contemplation of himself and his mission.

Getting Rid of the Hatred

Of the many shackles with which we bind ourselves with our own hands hatred of those who have wronged us or whom we perceive as having done so is one of the most destructive. Even when the strongest emotions are justified holding on to them usually damages us more than it damages the subjects of our hatred for it distorts our entire view of the world and turns us into negative people.

On a recent visit to Boca Raton I heard from Rabbi Efrem Goldberg a remarkable story of one Jew's refusal to become consumed by venom and bitterness. On a camp visiting day 20 years or so ago the protagonist of the story was visiting his granddaughter together with his son the girl's father. Father and son were walking along a path in the camp when their path crossed that of another elderly gentleman. The two older men nodded to one another and kept walking.

The son asked his father who the other person was. His father replied “He was my best friend and chavrusa before the War growing up in Satmar.” If so the son asked his father why had he confined himself to a simple nod of recognition and kept walking.

“Before the war” his father answered “I succeeded in procuring exit visas for myself and for my wife and children. The time had not yet come to use them so I hid them. I didn't tell anyone the hiding place -- not my parents not my siblings. Only one person knew where I had hidden them. When the time came to use the visas they were not there. My best friend had taken them. With those visas he saved himself and his family while I lost my wife and children.”

The answer to the first question left the son with an even bigger question: “So why did you nod to him. Why did you not go over to him and spit at him or something?”

“Those were different times” his father replied. “I should never have put him in that nisayon.”

That response is almost beyond the ability of all but the greatest tzaddikim among us to conceive. We flare in anger at others without making the slightest effort to perceive the situation from their point of view and we nurture grudges for the smallest slights for years. And here was a “victim” capable of understanding the desperation and fear that drove his closest friend to act in a way that resulted indirectly but foreseeably in the deaths of his wife and children.” 

Reflecting on that story the next time we feel wronged by someone should serve as an antidote to becoming twisted out of shape and becoming a person who retains a grudge or acts vengefully.