If you can judge yourself favorably even if you’re no great tzaddik, how hard is it to look at others the same way, cutting them the same slack you so generously give yourself?

We all want to merit a favorable judgment as the new year approaches, but we fear that perhaps something is holding it back. We’ve been listening to the shofar all month, maybe having attended some inspirational Elul shiurim, and trying to focus on the resolutions that will make us “better” in the coming year. Yet, is there something we’re doing wrong? Is there some ingredient we’re missing?

We’re trying so hard — but perhaps the key lies somewhere else? Some people fail to receive a favorable verdict on Rosh Hashanah because of a particular defect that can hold back Heavenly mercy. Rav Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler talks about one such impediment, explaining it with the well-known Mishnah, “Do not judge your fellowman until you are in his place” (Avos 2:5), and discussing what is meant by “his place.”

“His place,” explains Rav Dessler, are the nisyonos and challenges that have been tailor-made for him by HaKadosh Baruch Hu — based on his particular temperament and intelligence, his situation and environment — and in this, no two individuals are the same. That means that no one can ever really stand in another person’s place — and therefore, it follows that no one can ever really judge another.

Only HaKadosh Baruch Hu, Who is Mekomo shel Olam, the “place” of the world, and Who controls everything with which man is endowed, is capable of being the Judge. Even the greatest of men with penetrating spiritual vision can only see as much as Hashem reveals.

The obligation to judge favorably, says Rav Dessler, applies even when it seems very far-fetched. The reason this is so difficult is because the tendency to see another’s deficiencies is rooted in the desire to gain honor for himself through the other’s degradation, and therefore the way of repairing this is to focus on the other extreme. A person who can’t find a place in his heart for a favorable judgment should know that this is not because of his acuity, but because he’s actually lacking in love for his fellowman. (Remember, he always finds a way of judging himself favorably, which means it’s possible.)

“He who sits on a throne of judgment over others, in Heaven they will sit on a throne of judgment over him.” There is no way a person can win mercy unless he judges others favorably — and why fall on Rosh Hashanah without even knowing why?

An interpretation of the Mishnah is brought in the name of the Baal Shem Tov (see Likutei Moharan, section 113): “And payment is exacted from him, midaato v’shelo midaato,” literally, “from his opinion and not from his opinion.” That is, every man is a judge, and he is judged in the way he judges his fellowman — but not by the way he judges himself. That’s why “just” talking lashon hara about someone can bring about massive harsh dinim upon him.

It’s really all about our choices: If a person makes a good choice, even though he feels hijacked by his yetzer hara, Hashem immediately assists him to make new preparations by which he will rise to a higher level and leave the indiscretions behind. If that’s how it is for us, that’s how it is for everyone else. This is a great limud zechus, a way of thinking favorably, about an entire community. For every sinner sins only because he has not been able to perceive the weight of the sin, because his neshamah hasn’t had a revelation of the great light.

Who among us wouldn’t like to return to Hashem wholeheartedly? The problem is that we think we are incapable of this. We consider ourselves weighed down by our aveiros, which affects our very desire for teshuvah — and without this desire, how can we ever climb out of the pit of transgression?

If only we had some simple, easy way of purifying ourselves, so that we could ascend the heights of Torah and middos unobstructed, and cling to Hashem with a whole heart and an eager soul.

But there is, in fact, such a way.

According to Rav Dessler, Chazal revealed the secret: “Whoever overlooks what is done to him, all his sins are overlooked” (Rosh Hashanah 17a).

What is meant by “overlooking what is done to him (ma’avir al midosav)”? Rashi explains, “He is not exacting to measure out a fitting response to those who distress him, but puts his measurements aside and moves on.” And what is meant by “he has all his sins overlooked”? “The Attribute of Justice does not examine them meticulously, but puts them aside and moves on.” In other words, if one skips getting angry at his fellowman, in Heaven they skip getting angry at him.

Still, how can we achieve this middah?

There is one really simple way: to accustom ourselves to look upon our fellowman the way we look at ourselves. Anger, hatred, fighting, and quarreling, all come from the fact that a person refuses to see others with the same forgiveness and compassion he reserves for himself. For example, let’s say a poor man asks a rich man for a large donation. The rich man sees this as chutzpah, and he gets angry. The poor man is insulted, and he thinks, “Hashem gave him so much — why can’t he pass a little of it on to me for my needs?” And they part on bad terms, both feeling injured.

That’s because the asker and the giver aren’t looking at the situation with the same lens. If each would feel the other’s position, even if the request were not fulfilled, they would part with love instead of resentment. It’s really all about expectations. If there are no expectations to begin with, there can be no unfulfilled expectations, and therefore no reason for resentment (which comes when one doesn’t get what he hoped for or thought he needed from the other). The vast majority of conflicts and entanglements between man and his fellow would be avoided if each would try a little harder to put himself in the other’s place.

This is really not as daunting as it sounds. It requires only a small switch in our thinking and focus, but it is a far-reaching tool for improving one’s character, for nearly all the middos between man and his fellow pass through this point.

Remember: “Your fellowman’s honor should be as dear to you as your own” (Avos 2:10). “Nullify your will for the will of others, so that others will nullify their will for yours” (ibid 2:4). “Do not judge your fellowman until you are in his place” (ibid 2:5) — because you’ll never be in his place, you’ll never have his nisyonos, and you’ll never know exactly where he’s coming from. And if you give him a reprieve, you’ll get one too.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 778)