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“When you see the donkey of your enemy lying under its burden … you must help him with it.” (Shemot 23:5)
This verse offers more than a practical directive; it serves as a profound lesson in personal growth. According to Jewish law, when faced with the choice to unload an animal’s burden—relieving its suffering—or to load it up, unloading takes precedence. This is because easing the animal’s distress is a Torah-level obligation. Yet, the Talmud (Pesachim 113b) introduces a surprising twist: if two people need assistance—one a friend needing help unloading and the other a soneh, someone you dislike, needing help loading—the halachah is to help the soneh first. Why? Because doing so subdues one’s yetzer hara, the inclination to hold grudges or cling to personal bias.
This principle reveals the Torah’s deep concern with refining our inner character. Although preventing animal suffering is a Torah commandment, the emotional and spiritual growth that comes from overcoming resentment takes precedence. The halachic requirement to assist the soneh first challenges us to confront the complexities of our own emotions and rise above them.
But who is this soneh? The Tosafot (ibid.) clarify that we’re not speaking about baseless hatred, which is forbidden. Rather, it refers to someone who has committed a transgression, making it permissible—sometimes even a mitzvah—to harbor disdain for their actions. Tosafot explains that human emotions mirror each other ("As water reflects the face, so one's heart reflects another"), meaning that when one harbors hatred toward another due to their transgression, it is considered permissible. However, when that individual reciprocates the hatred, the original hatred naturally intensifies, leading to an impermissible level of animosity. Therefore, subduing one's yetzer hara in this regard takes precedence even over preventing animal suffering, as the Torah demands vigilance in refining one's emotions.
This sensitivity to human emotion is not just theoretical. Rav Baruch Zeldovich, a prominent Torah scholar and philanthropist from Minsk, Russia, exemplified this ideal. Rav Baruch was not only a devout Torah scholar but also a successful businessman who used his wealth to support Torah institutions and help the needy. He was close to many leading rabbinic figures, including Reb Chaim Brisker, who often praised his integrity and devotion. Despite his social and financial stature, Rav Baruch viewed every interaction—whether in court or in the community—as a chance to refine his character in accordance with Torah values.
Once, Rav Baruch found himself in a legal dispute over a substantial sum of money. In beit din, rabbinical court, his opponent, knowing the truth, swore falsely in Hashem’s name. Overwhelmed with pain at the desecration of a Torah commandment, Rav Baruch berated the man, demanding, “How can a Jew who stood at Har Sinai, who heard the commandment ‘Do not swear falsely,’ utter such brazen lies? Such audacity!” His rebuke was sharp, reflecting his genuine anguish over the man’s actions.
A few weeks later, Rav Baruch witnessed another false oath in court, but this time involving a different individual. As he chastised the second man, Rav Baruch realized something startling: his reaction was not as strong as it had been in the first instance. Reflecting on this difference, he recognized that in the first situation, his anger had not been purely for the sake of Torah. His personal financial loss had intensified his admonishment, giving it an edge that went beyond righteous indignation.
Deeply troubled by this realization, Rav Baruch returned to the first man and humbly asked for forgiveness. “I cried out against the violation of Hashem’s name,” he explained, “but I see now that my additional anger came from personal feelings about the twenty thousand rubles. Therefore, I humbly ask fpr your absolution.”
Rav Baruch’s ability to admit this subtle failing and seek clemency highlights the Torah’s demand for constant character refinement. It’s not enough to simply observe halachah on the surface; one must also reflect on the motivations behind each action and work to align them with the Torah’s ethical ideals.
This humility—seeking not just to observe Torah, but to embody its values—is what the Torah truly asks of us. Even when halachah permits a degree of disdain, we are still challenged to monitor our inner emotional balance. By doing so, we elevate ourselves and live by the Torah’s timeless standards, striving not only for external righteousness but also for inner greatness.
Rabbi Leeor Dahan, a graduate of Yeshiva Chofetz Chaim/RSA, is a noted scholar and teacher, well-versed in halachah. He currently leads Kehilat Avodat Hashem in Hillcrest, Queens, inspiring his congregation to delve into Torah study and embrace its eternal teachings.
Refining Character: When the Torah Challenges Our Emotions
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