Mishlei 14:10 - True Empathy

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Mishlei 14:10 - True Empathy

משלי יד:י

לֵב יוֹדֵעַ מָרַּת נַפְשׁוֹ וּבְשִׂמְחָתוֹ לֹא יִתְעָרַב זָר:

Mishlei 14:10 – True Empathy

The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger will share in its joy. 

The questions are:

(1) What is the rationale of the hava amina (the false assumption which this pasuk aims to refute)? Apparently, Shlomo ha'Melech assumes that the reader of this pasuk would be inclined to believe that "the heart knows the bitterness of other hearts" (judging by the second half of the pasuk) and "strangers can share in its joy." What does this mean? Why would someone assume this? 

(2) What is the basis of the pasuk’s conclusion? Why is the hava amina wrong? Why does the heart only know its own bitterness? Why can’t a stranger share in its joy? 

(3) Why does the pasuk focus specifically on bitterness and joy? There are plenty of other emotions.  Why did Shlomo ha'Melech choose these two? 

(4) Who is the "stranger"? Does this refer to someone with whom one is not acquainted? Does it refer to an "outsider" - whatever that means? Or does it refer to anyone who is not oneself? 

(5) What practical decision-making idea do we learn from this pasuk? This is another one of those pesukim in which it is unclear what Shlomo ha'Melech is advising us to do or not do. Since Mishlei is a book about practical decision-making, we need to understand how the idea being taught by this pasuk is translated into action.

[For best results, stop here and think about the pasuk and these questions before reading on.]

Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

Two people can see the same object or hear the same sound, but they cannot experience the same feeling; each individual is confined to the solitary world of his or her own emotional experiences. The most we can do is to observe the other person’s behavior and make inferences about his or her internal state based on our own previous emotional experiences; true empathy (i.e. actually feeling what another person feels) is impossible. Therefore, you should exercise caution when assessing the emotional states of others and remember that you are not actually perceiving their feelings, but are making inferences about their feelings based on your own experiences – inferences which are prone to error and subjective bias. Likewise, it is unreasonable to expect others to automatically feel the emotions you are experiencing, and it is unfair to burden them with that demand. 

The need for this idea is evident from colloquialisms, such as: "I feel your pain" and "I feel for you." It is impossible to actually feel someone else's pain. The most you can do is observe someone else in a situation, infer based on that situation and/or the person's behavior that he or she is in a state of pain, relate that pain to your own experiences when you have been in similar situations, and assume that what this person is experiencing bears a resemblance to your own experiences. It is obvious that such an analysis might be totally off base. 

One of my favorite examples of this can be seen in the genre of inspirational speeches given by people suffering from unusual medical conditions (e.g. Claire Wineland, who suffers from Cystic Fibrosis, Nick Vujicic, who has no limbs, Sam Berns, who suffers from Progeria - which causes him to "age" prematurely). When we see these people we are quick to project our own feelings onto them. We think to ourselves, either consciously or unconsciously: "If I were in that position I would be miserable; therefore, this person must feel miserable." But as these speakers demonstrate, such assumptions are false.

Another common example of this mistake can be seen in parenting - especially with parents of younger children. When a young child cries, the parent sometimes overreacts. This overreaction is based on an a faulty line of reasoning: "Since I only cry like that when I am in a state of unbearable pain; therefore, my child must also be in a state of unbearable pain, and I must address it by doing everything in my power to make that pain stop." In reality, the child's internal world is completely different than that of an emotionally mature adult. Yes, an adult would have to be in a state of terrible suffering to break down in tears, but for a child, it might take nothing more than a minor annoyance. Similarly, an adult might underreact to a child crying. In reality, the child might be experiencing a horribly traumatic experience, but the adult assumes: "What's the big deal? If something this trivial happened to me, I'd get over it in a second; therefore, my child is the one who is overreacting, and had better get over it - pronto!" Both mistakes stem from a lack of awareness that the parent is interpreting the child's behavior based on the parent's own experience.

This phenomenon also occurs in cases involving joy. When we witness someone achieve a success or attain some benefit, we are quick to conclude that this person must be elated. In reality, maybe this person is unhappy, and we're just projecting what we would feel if we were in that situation. Perhaps this is why Shlomo ha'Melech chose to focus on "bitterness" and "joy" - one negative emotion and one positive - to show that this mistake occurs across the emotional spectrum. 

Another practical ramification of this mistake occurs when we unfairly hold others responsible for knowing what we are feeling. For example, one spouse might assume that the other spouse knows exactly what he or she is feeling, and become hurt or angry when treated a certain way, saying, "How dare you say/do something like that to me! Don't you know that I'm in a bad mood?!" - as if one's internal state were as easy to perceive as the color of the wall or the temperature of water. Ironically, this accusation of "lacking empathy" itself stems from a lack of empathy - the failure to recognize that the other person's emotions, experiences, and assumptions might have caused him or her to misinterpret the behavioral signs that he or she observed. Again, the key is to recognize that the most we can do is interpret someone else's emotions - not perceive or experience them.

Mindfulness of the idea in this pasuk is the key to avoiding misguided empathy, and developing true empathy - that is, the closest thing to actual empathy that human beings are capable of.

Parashas Balak: Divine Regret

Unfortunately, I found myself uninspired to look into the parashah in time to write a dvar Torah for this week. But since I felt I needed to write something, I decided to just share an Ibn Ezra on a pasuk in Parashas Bereishis which sheds light on a pasuk in Parashas Balak. It might be a Tier #2 dvar Torah which is only kinda on the parashah, but who knows? Maybe someone will gain something from it. 

Parashas Balak: Divine Regret

Balak, the king of Moav, hired Bilam the prophet to curse the Jews. Time and time again, the king was let down when the prophet blessed the Israelite nation instead of cursing them, explaining that he can't go against God's will. Balak's persisted in his demands, hoping that Hashem would change His mind and allow Bilam to curse the foreign nation. In response to this hope Bilam says:

"God is not a man that He should be deceitful, nor is He a human being that He should regret" (Bamidbar 23:19). 

Seems straightforward enough: God doesn't regret, and will not change His mind about allowing the Jews to be cursed. However, at the end of Parashas Bereishis, prior to the decree of the Flood, the Torah says the opposite: 

Hashem saw that the wickedness of man was great upon the earth, and that every product of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all of the time. And Hashem regretted having made man upon the earth, and His heart was saddened. And Hashem said, "I will blot out Man whom I created from the face of the ground - from man to animal, to creeping things, and to birds of the sky; for I have regretted having made them (Bereishis 6:5-7).

So which is it: Does Hashem regret or not? Furthermore, what does it mean when it says that "His heart was saddened"?

To a student of the yesodei ha'Torah (fundamentals of Torah), the answer is obvious: no, Hashem does not regret, nor be sad. First of all, Hashem does not - and cannot - change. Secondly, Hashem has no emotions, since Hashem is not physical. Thirdly, Hashem cannot make any mistakes which would warrant regret. 

This changes our question: Since Hashem doesn't regret, what does the pasuk mean when it describes Him has regretting having created man?

The Ibn Ezra [1] answers:

It is obvious that He is not a man such that He regrets. Rather, the Torah speaks in human language, and one who destroys what he has made appears as though he regretted [making it]. The meaning of "His heart was saddened" is the opposite of "may Hashem rejoice in His creations" (Tehilim 104:31), for it is good in His eyes that His creations receive His kindnesses.

On the pasuk from Tehilim cited by the Ibn Ezra, the Radak [2] echoes his comments:

Happiness and sadness with reference to Hashem are [to be understood] allegorically, for He has neither happiness nor sadness, and He doesn't change from one mode to another. Rather, just as a person is happy when his actions succeed and is sad when the opposite happens, the same is allegorically said of God (blessed is He), so that the listeners may understand. 

Both Rishonim agree that "regret," "happiness," "sadness" are to be understood as anthropomorphic characterizations of Hashem's actions - not as literal statements about Hashem, Himself. The same goes for all other statements which seem to imply that Hashem has emotions.

Although this approach is expressed unanimously and ubiquitously throughout the writings of the Rishonim, it is too often neglected in Jewish day school education. I have lost count of the number of students I've taught who are shocked to be informed that Hashem has no emotions. The only way I know to remedy this deficiency in their education is to seize every opportunity to explain anthropomorphic passages such as these, and to show them that this entire approach is firmly rooted in the teachings of the baalei Mesorah. 

[1] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 23:19
[2] Rabbeinu David Kimchi, Commentary on Sefer Tehilim 104:31

Descartes' Take on Diversity

Descartes' Take on Diversity

A good friend of mine is currently traveling in East Asia. He made the following observation to me in an email:

As a generality, travelers are the nicest and friendliest people you come across. But once you talk to them, you see that niceness express itself in a standard of no judgement or pursuit of objective truth. In the traveler's culture, everyone's views are equally valid and interesting. Questioning it is rude. No one is interested in pursuing the truth. 

This reminded me of some thoughts I had on the topic of diversity, which - apparently - I had never expressed in a blog post. 

"Diversity" has become an increasingly popular value in the post-modern age. This has its pros and cons. The major benefit that a society which values diversity lends itself to the mentality of, "Eizehu chacham? ha'lomed mi'kol adam - Who is wise? He who learns from everyone" (Avos 4:1). More exposure to diverse ideas and values yields more opportunities for learning new ideas. 

However, Western society's embrace of diversity has also lent strength to the trends of pluralism, subjectivism, moral equivalency, and the like. There are many people who feel that tolerating all views necessitates accepting all views as equally valid. Knowing the regular readers of this blog, I'm sure I don't think I have to elaborate on the falsity of that epistemological stance. Suffice it to say, this is an ugly side effect.

Years ago I started reading Descartes' Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason and Seeking Truth in the Science. I came across a short excerpt which put a different spin on the value of diversity. Descartes writes about the value of travel, saying:

It is useful to know something of the manners of different nations, that we may be enabled to form a more correct judgment regarding our own, and be prevented from thinking that everything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and irrational, a conclusion usually come to by those whose experience has been limited to their own country.

In other words, we tend to have a supreme confidence in the correctness of our own customs and cultural mores. By default, we view the ways of others as "ridiculous and irrational." Descartes is pointing out that by exposing ourselves to different people from different cultures, we will come to realize that they have exactly the same degree of confidence in the correctness of their lifestyle as we do in ours. This, in turn, will bring us to the realization that this entire feeling of correctness is totally subjective, and provides absolutely no indication about objective truth.

Now, a subjectivist would use this as a jumping-off point to say, "See? We're ALL deluding ourselves! Nobody really knows what's going on!" But Descartes took the opposite approach, saying that this realization of our own self-delusion will "[enable us] to form a more correct judgment regarding our own [way of life]." The first step in clearing away the sanctimonious haze that surrounds us to become aware of it, and a good way to become aware of it is to recognize it in others.

To sum up the main point: not only can diversity help us to learn from others who are right, but it can also help us to appreciate just how many people think they're right about their derech in life, but are actually wrong; hopefully, this will help us to spot this same way of thinking in ourselves, and better enable us to correct our mistaken ways of thinking.