A few years ago, there was a popular saying in the States,
"Don't just sit there; do something." It is human nature that
when events aren't going the way you want them to go —
or even when things simply aren't going the way they usually
do - - to freeze into a posture of inaction.
The Jewish way is quite different. When we are in a difficult
situation, our Torah leaders suggest appropriate actions we
can and should take. The list from Rav Elyashiv and Rav
Shteineman, with which we are currently working, includes
something for everyone. Torah and chessed are basic to
our lives and therefore we should certainly work on
strengthening them. Shabbos, tzniyus and interpersonal
relations are also areas we need to improve.
I was very happy to see the suggestion that we all work to
stamp out machloches (dispute and conflicts) in our
communities. Disagreements within neighborhoods, apartment
buildings and even families can lead to strained, if not
broken, relationships.
One of my favorite projects is Mishmeres HaShalom. Once a
month, building representatives like me bring around
attractive full-color pamphlets to the women in our
buildings. The pamphlets are available in a choice of
languages, so I can give my Israeli neighbors their pamphlets
in Hebrew and then go home to read the articles in my English
version. A recent pamphlet zeroed in on the value of
vatronos (making concessions) in ending
controversy.
There was a beautiful story about a kindergarten teacher who
took off a couple of years from her job to care for her
premature child. When she felt she was able to go back to
teaching, she notified her principal, who promised she could
have her old job back for the coming year. The conversation
then slipped the principal's mind and she offered the same
class to the substitute teacher who had been filling in
during the absence.
When the original ganenet heard about the double
promise — and the principal's offer to draw lots for
the position, she graciously bowed out and gave the job to
the substitute. This prevented a major conflict that could
have turned the school into a war zone, with everyone taking
sides and adding their two cents worth.
The first teacher took a lesser job as a rotating substitute
for that year. However, the next year she was rewarded by
getting her old class back plus a raise in pay.
The Chofetz Chaim had a wonderful suggestion for avoiding the
conflicts that often arise from small financial losses. You
know, the kind of losses that are too small to require a
judicial ruling via a din Torah but big enough to
bother the person who is on the losing end of things.
The Chofetz Chaim pointed out that we are very happy to set
aside money at the beginning of the year to buy a beautiful
esrog. We should also set aside money for another
mitzvah: that of making peace. Put away a hundred or
so shekel each year to pay for annoying small losses that
might create interpersonal conflicts.
Suppose a neighbor was making a simchah and borrowed
one of your trays. She comes to your house to return it. When
she knocks on the door, you are in the process of drying the
glass vase you use for your Shabbos flowers.
You quickly set the vase down on the edge of your dining
table so you can open the door for the visitor. In she comes
with the tray and puts it down. That slight jarring of the
table knocks over the vase which falls to the floor and
breaks into more pieces than you can count, let alone put
together.
Instead of apologizing or offering to pay for the vase, the
neighbor looks down at the broken glass and says to you,
"That's a pretty stupid place to put a vase! Do you want me
to help you sweep it up?" After this insightful comment, she
thanks you for the use of the tray and sweeps out the
door.
Now you know you aren't going to go to beis din to try
to get back the 39 shekel that you will have to pay for a new
vase, but the loss doesn't make you very fond of this
neighbor. You have two choices. You can stew about it and
maybe spend the afternoon telling your best friend, your
mother and six other people about the terrible injustice.
When your husband comes home, you can complain to him. Then
he can snub the neighbor's husband while you give the
neighbor herself the silent treatment every time you pass on
the stairs. For good measure, you can talk about it in front
of your children so they can go after the neighbor's
youngsters. With enough righteous indignation, you can start
a minor war right in your building.
Or . . . you can select Option Number Two. You can keep your
mouth tightly buttoned, take 39 shekel out of your "Shalom
Fund," buy a new vase, and forget the entire incident.
There are a host of minor things that can cause friction
among neighbors. For many people, one of the big mysteries of
life is, "Where does all that dark, soapy water go after you
push it into the sponga hole?" When we had been here in
Israel for just a short while, we were privileged to find out
the answer to that one.
One of our sons got married and rented a small apartment on
the fourth floor of an old building near his yeshiva in B'nei
Brak. The new couple was coming to spend Succos with our
family in Yerushalayim. The young bride dutifully cleaned up
the apartment and shortly before they left, she did one last
floorwash. As she finished, there was the sound of hasty
footsteps coming up the stairs.
The neighbor from the first floor knocked on the door and
asked my son if he could please come downstairs to help with
something in his sukkah. Assuming that the man needed an
extra pair of hands to lift a heavy board or two, my son
followed him down the stairs.
When they entered the succah porch, the neighbor
wordlessly pointed to his succah and then upward,
where my son could clearly see the sponga water dripping
through the bamboo s'chach. The water that had already
landed in the succah had not exactly enhanced its
decor. My son apologized profusely and promised not to put
any water down the hole, at least not until after the
holiday.
The newlyweds did some research and found that you can clean
floors quite adequately with just a few cups of water. Then
you can scoop up any remaining water and direct it into a
dustpan, and from there back into the pail, all before it
gets as far as the sponga hole, or, alternately, use less and
just soak it up with the floor-rag.
I have since heard many tales of sponga water coming down on
porches and balconies, dripping all over freshly washed
laundry, and ruining plants in gardens. In a building near
ours, the sponga water from two of the upper apartments flows
through a short pipe that then empties onto the communal
staircase used by the people who live on the lower level.
If people are coming up the stairs at the wrong time, they
may have to go back home and change out of their splashed and
spoiled clothing before proceeding out of the building! You
can imagine this does not engender warm feelings among the
neighbors.
The floor cleaners are not at all malicious. They are just
doing what the contractor expected them to do, namely
directing their sponga water into the holes he provided.
However, just the simple act of scooping up dirty water with
a dustpan instead can make all of the difference in the world
when it comes to interpersonal relationships within a
building.
If they can't teach old dogs new tricks, perhaps a couple of
families can pool their yearly Shalom funds and pay for a
plumber to fix the problem. Either way is better than just
ignoring things and allowing machloches to reign.
So don't just sit there. Do something positive and
constructive to improve the various interpersonal
relationships in your life.
