Having A Right Does Not Always Make You Right

Sanhedrin 18

Our Gemara on amud beis discusses legal exemptions from the obligation to return lost items, focusing on situations where retrieval of the object would conflict with the dignity of the finder.

“You shall not see your brother’s ox or his sheep wandering and ignore them; you shall return them to your brother” (Deuteronomy 22:1). The use of the unusual phrase “and ignore them,” rather than a more direct “do not ignore them,” implies there are circumstances when ignoring a lost item is permissible. The Gemara elaborates:

If the finder is an elderly person, and retrieving the object would be beneath their dignity, or if the finder’s work – suspended to retrieve and return the item – is of greater value than the lost item, the verse permits ignoring the lost object: “And ignore them.”

Rashi clarifies that the exemption applies because the elderly individual would not retrieve such an object even if it belonged to them; therefore, he is not obligated to retrieve it for someone else.

Despite this exemption, there are opinions that it is a middas chasidus (an act of extra piety) to return the object anyway (see Shulchan Aruch, CM 272:3, and Bava Metzia 30b).

Sefer Daf al Daf quotes Rav Yissachar Dov of Belz, who offers a metaphorical interpretation of this principle in the context of the Selichos liturgy. In the prayers, we describe Hashem as:

“Almighty King Who sits on the throne of mercy, governs with chasidus, forgives the iniquities of His people…”

While chasidus may be understood as deriving from chesed (kindness), there is a deeper meaning to this prayer. The word teshuva (repentance) comes from the root shuv, meaning “to return” or “be restored.” With this in mind, we can interpret the prayer as follows: Even though it is beneath G-d’s dignity, so to speak, to forgive our iniquities and restore us after our failings, G-d nonetheless goes beyond the strict letter of the law. He acts with middas chasidus and returns us to our best selves and thereby to Him, like a lost object lovingly retrieved and restored.

This idea has profound implications for our own behavior. If we emulate G-d by acting with extra piety and forgiving others – restoring relationships physically, emotionally, or spiritually – we arouse heavenly compassion in return. As we learn in Rosh Hashana (17a): “Whoever lets go of rightful resentments and claims against others for injustices done to them, the heavenly court in turn forgoes punishment for all their sins.”

The lesson is clear: Sometimes, exercising a right may not make us right. The willingness to go beyond strict justice, to act with middas chasidus, can transform not only our relationships but also arouse Divine mercy.

Passive Aggressiveness In The Torah

Sanhedrin 19

Our Gemara on amud aleph highlights the importance of being sensitive to human nature, even when acting with good intentions. One must always consider how actions will be perceived by others. For example, if the Kohen Gadol suffers a personal loss and is sitting shiva, the Mashuach She’avar (a former High Priest who temporarily served in the current Kohen Gadol’s place, such as during a period of ritual impurity) should not visit him. Despite any good intentions, the visit might be interpreted as schadenfreude – a covert delight in the misfortune of another. Given the natural rivalry between the two, such a visit could easily be misinterpreted.

The Meiri on our Gemara generalizes this idea into a broader principle:

Anyone who thinks that his fellow believes he rejoices in his downfall, as part of the ways of proper conduct should avoid appearing before him at the time of his misfortune. Learn this from what is stated here: that an anointed priest who was deposed does not come to the current High Priest at the time of his bereavement. The reason given is, “Perhaps he will feel low and say: He is rejoicing at my misfortune.” And the same applies to any similar case.

This principle is also codified by the Rama (YD 335:2):

Some say that an enemy may visit a sick person. However, this does not seem plausible to me; but he should not visit a sick person nor comfort a mourner whom he hates, so that [the latter] should not think that he rejoices at his misfortune, and thereby feel depressed. This seems to me [to be the correct view].

The Shach (ibid 2) discusses a related scenario of lending money to an enemy. Even a well-intentioned act of kindness might be overshadowed by the perception of gloating, and thus requires careful judgment.

In these cases, the primary concern revolves around perception. Yet we can add another dimension: Such behavior might also reflect passive aggressiveness. Consider the dynamic: “What, me gloating over your loss? Chas Vvshalom! I only wish to perform a mitzvah and seize the merit of helping you.” While the outward action appears altruistic, the underlying motivation may harbor hostility.

This type of behavior might explain the verse regarding the Chief Butler’s actions toward Yosef: “Yet the Chief Butler did not remember Yosef and he forgot him” (Bereishis 40:23). The redundancy in the verse has sparked various interpretations among the commentaries, but we might propose that his forgetting was not passive but deliberately so – perhaps an example of passive aggression. The Chief Butler didn’t “just” forget Yosef; he made sure to forget him.

Our Sages were acutely aware of such subtle but damaging behaviors in human nature. They teach us to navigate and mitigate these dynamics, whether by avoiding actions that could be misconstrued or by reflecting deeply on our own intentions.

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