It behooves us to listen to Yaakov’s dictum, to see only shalom, the best in people

“Please go look into the welfare (shalom) of your brothers…” (Bereishis 37:14)

Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshischa explains that Yaakov requested that Yosef always try to see the best, the “shleimus” of his siblings, and not their flaws, to make an effort to emphasize their virtues, not their lax qualities. (Rabbi Sholom Ever)

I

’m a chameleon. I can’t help myself. I adapt to whatever language nuances and social behaviors go on around me. When I’m speaking with someone from England, my voice immediately adopts their lilt and pronunciation, although obviously it’s not inborn. I often wonder if people think I’m making fun of them because I’m “copying” their accent, but really it’s a reflex — I can’t help it!

I copy behaviors as well. I grew up in Baltimore where we were taught from a young age to say thank you to everyone, from the bus driver to the custodian — it was ingrained in us. You said hello or good Shabbos to anyone you met, notwithstanding if you knew them or not.

In pesukim 15 and 16, when the angel asked, “What do you seek?” Yosef responded: “My brothers do I seek.”

We see our brothers and sisters every day and it behooves us to listen to Yaakov’s dictum, to see only shalom, the best in people. The Sfas Emes explains that we must take into consideration the “whole man” — even when something is missing in his character, take into account all the conditions involved. Surely we’ll find some redeeming commendable qualities.

The rabbis tell us that people who nitpick and look for blemishes are likely guilty of those same transgressions. What goes around comes around; a kind and generous heart that sees only good in mankind will warrant that only good comes to him. Our obligation isn’t to condemn, but to follow Yaakov’s message of brotherhood.

After 20 years, you’d think this type of behavior would have staying power. But when I moved to Eretz Yisrael, I realized that saying good Shabbos to everybody is simply impossible; you’d be saying it nonstop whenever walking in the street. So I’ve adjusted. But there are also certain behaviors I’ve adopted that aren’t as neutral and I’m desperate to change them.

It’s up to us to search and find our brothers, to look for praiseworthy character traits. If we’re always melamed zechus, Hashem will find us worthy of kindness. By the yardstick we use to measure others, so we’ll be measured.

The worst for me is in the car. Like so many places in the world, driving with too many cars in too tight of a spot makes for a difficult situation. The infrastructure of the crowded roads is simply not made to drive politely, and I’ve learned to gun my motor and try to make my way or I’d never get to my destination. I’m not proud of it, simply stating what’s become a part of my personality. But it comes with something else, and this troubles me much more.

Take a five-minute ride with me and you’ll find that I hold whole soliloquies with the drivers around me, although none of them can hear me.

“Sure, you think you own the road, that’s why you can pass me on the shoulder?”

“If you’re planning on speeding, I wish you’d do it on your side of the road, not weaving in and out in front of me.”

Some comments are cynical. Others are quite funny. But the tone and the drive (pun intended!) behind each comment is what’s troublesome to me. I’m annoyed, frustrated, and trying to make my point, albeit without a two-way discussion. And as we know, if you find yourself nitpicking someone else’s behavior, you’re usually guilty, too. So I’m trying to work on myself to hush the chameleon on the streets and go back to my childhood behaviors.

“Sure, you need to get home quickly? Please pass me, I totally have the extra time today.”

“Thank you so much for not hitting me as you desperately tried to make that green light. I’m grateful for your consideration.”

Not quite there yet. Still working on myself. But if you take a five-minute car ride with me, chameleon that I am, I hope I’ll learn from your good middos and copy them.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 972)