Kavod – Lesson 1: Respecting Others
Review: Last week’s stretch of the week was: Think of a friend who is going through a particularly challenging life situation. Make an extra effort to reach out to him/her and do something specific to help. Please allow ONE person to share her experience with this exercise for ONE minute. KAVOD Lesson #1 Kavod Respecting Others What is kavod? Kavod is literally translated as honor. Therefore, people automatically associate kavod with something negative since they are familiar with Chazal’s bidding to run away from honor. However, in reality the concept of kavod encompasses so much more. We are better off translating kavod as respect, because kavod is much more about the internal makings of a person than his social status. We must have kavod for ourselves; we must have it for others. The world we live in is losing its sense of kavod more and more each day. All barriers of respect and dignity have fallen by the wayside. Not that long ago, it was commonplace for one to give up his seat on a train for someone older. Now? It is highly unusual to sight a witness. Honoring one’s parents and grandparents? Whom are you kidding? On the brighter side, this foretells that we are living in the times close to the arrival of Mashiach. Chazal tell us (Sota 49b) that in the days preceding Mashiach chutzpa will be rampant; the young will shame the old; elders will get up for the children; a son will disgrace his father; a daughter will rebel against her mother… This decrease in outward kavod is indicative of a much bigger problem than the individual misdeeds being performed. It is a symptom of a sickness which has far greater casualties than we may realize. If we have lost respect for those around us, then we apparently have lost our own sense of self-respect. If those around us are not important enough to be treated with dignity, how much greater can we perceive ourselves? We have lost the most precious and vital ingredient to our spiritual and physical survival: kavod of self. How much pride and kavod can one possible derive from his physical existence? Dovid HaMelech says in Tehillim (30:13), “So that my soul (chavod) will sing to You and not be silent.” Dovid refers to his soul as his chavod, his honor. The greatest pride one can experience is in the elevation and success of his soul, for that is who he really is, a spiritual being. If only we begin to heighten our sense of kavod for ourselves and those around us, we will see incredible changes in our lives. We will be able to accomplish so much more both for ourselves and others. (Reproduced from Run After the Right Kavod by Rabbi Moshe Don Kestenbaum, with permission of the author and copyright holders, Israel Bookshop Publications). Story:(based on a true story) “Go to your room right now! I can’t have you spilling anything else in here.” Sarah barked an “I hate when you say that!” at me and went scurrying up the stairs with teary eyes, but I couldn’t deal with that at the moment. She had too much nervous energy for me to have her around while I cleaned up the bottle of orange juice she’d inevitably knocked over. I knew she was sorry, but it happened too often. It’s not like anyone bothered to respect me and treat me in a way that didn’t make me want to cry, right? Just last night my married son had called to tell me that he and his wife and baby would be coming the second days of Succos instead of the first as we’d arranged, because of a family birthday on my daughter-in-law’s side. Not asked, but told, with less than a week’s notice. As I mopped, I called my friend Elana, to kvetch. “I am so tired of this,” I told her as I shoved the mop across the floor. “My kids don’t seem to care how what they do affects anyone else. And neither does anyone else! Every day I wait for fifteen minutes on the line for the highway exit ramp and just as I get near the front, four cars zoom in from the next lane and cut me off. I’m the bad guy if I don’t let them in. I get to work and it’s, ‘Where have you been?’, not a nicer, ‘How bad was your commute?’” Rant finished, Elana and I sighed and settled on the conclusion that our lot in life was to get stepped on, and the goal was “to keep on trucking”. Upstairs, I heard Sarah sniffling and muttering in her room. I began scolding myself for yelling at her and sending her away so I could talk to a friend while I wallowed in self-pity. Why didn’t I take a deep breath and have her help clean up? That would have actually taught her something without destroying her self-esteem. I felt like such a rotten mother. The front door slammed, and I soon found my high-school aged daughter Miriam bent over the open fridge. I heard the words “Hi Mom. Where’s the OJ?” and I was out the door, with vague mumblings that I would buy some for her but she was in charge until I got back. As I drove to the supermarket all I could think was, “At least she said ‘Hi’.” Ten minutes later I got to the checkout area with two bottles of orange juice and a new mop head in my basket. All the lines were full, so I settled into my wait with another sigh when I heard a quiet, “Excuse me?” from the woman in front of me. “If that’s all you have,” she said, “please go ahead of me. You look like you’ve had a long day.” I scooted around her overflowing cart gratefully, a vague positive feeling beginning to take shape inside my belly. I put as much of it as possible into my “Thank you,” though I