'But I Saw Him With My Own Eyes!'

I recently returned from a lecture tour abroad. One of my lectures was all about the greatness of judging others favorably, and I elaborated on how much we need to excel at finding ways to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes, it really demands a lot of creativity and determination and it’s not always easy to find a positive interpretation for something someone said or did. But I stressed that if we truly internalize that in every person and every action there is a positive side, and if we strive to find it, we will eventually succeed.

After the lecture, a certain person approached me and said he had a story to tell me. In his words:

A few months ago, I married off my oldest daughter to a wonderful son-in-law, the firstborn son of his family. Not only is my son-in-law a wonderful, refined person, but his whole family is like that. Whenever we had a difference of opinion over some aspect of the wedding, they always went out of their way to find a solution that we were happy with. My son-in-law’s father really seemed to exemplify all the best character traits.

The wedding day arrived.

So, there we were at one of the halls in Williamsburg. I stood at one side of the entrance and my son-in-law’s father was at the other side. There were about ten feet between us—close enough that we could easily hear each other’s conversations, but far enough for a sense of privacy as we greeted our guests.

For a long while I was so busy greeting people that I didn’t notice anything else. But after a while, there was a bit of a lull and I noticed a distinguished-looking person arriving at the hall and approaching my son-in-law’s father.

They shook hands, and the guest wished him mazal tov. Then I heard my son-in-law’s father say, “Keiner hot eich nisht girufen,” and the guest nodded, turned around, and hurried away.

Hearing those words, I looked up sharply—because, translated from the Yiddish, they mean: “No one invited you.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Someone had made the effort to come to the wedding and wish him mazal tov, only to be told, “You weren’t invited”? And who had said those words—none other than my new son-in-law’s father, someone who had—until that moment—impressed me as being exceptionally thoughtful and caring.

It didn’t add up. And, just to make things even more inexplicable, the guest took the words calmly and left, without protesting or getting upset.

I knew I would have to confront him—there was no way I could let someone be treated that way and remain silent. A few minutes passed before the entrance to the hall was empty again, and I walked over to him.

Placing my hand on his arm, I said, “You know, I noticed an elderly man just arrive a few moments ago, and I heard—or thought I heard—you telling him that he hadn’t been invited. Would you mind explaining?”

He looked at me blankly, as if he didn’t understand a word I was saying, and then suddenly he smiled broadly.

“You heard right. But first, listen to my story. Yesterday morning I went to the mikveh to immerse the dishes for the young couple. I guess I wasn’t being careful enough, and my cell phone slipped out of my shirt pocket and fell into the water. I managed to fish it out but it was too late. The phone was dead.

“It was the worst possible time, the day before the wedding. How was I going to manage without a phone?

“Just then, someone came up to me who had seen what happened. He knew about the wedding today although we don’t really know each other. ‘I saw what happened to your phone,’ he said. ‘I can imagine that you really can’t do without a phone right now, so you know what? I don’t use my phone much, so take it until after the wedding. I’ll manage without it until then. I’m actually going to be in the neighborhood of the hall tomorrow evening, so I’ll come and pick it up during the wedding, if that’s okay with you.’

“I felt a bit uncomfortable about it, but I really didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t manage without a phone for an hour, let alone a day. So I told him how grateful I was, and took it.

“ ‘Just one thing—if someone calls for me, do me a favor and write down the name so I can call them back,’ he said. I nodded. ‘Sure, no problem.’

“So... when he came to pick up the phone, a few minutes ago, I gave it back and told him that no one had called for him.”

He finished his story and smiled.

Keiner hot eich nisht girufen. You can translate it as “No one invited you,” but it also means, “No one called you.”

I didn’t feel so much like smiling, but I was happy to have such a wonderful son-in-law, from such a wonderful family.

***

The Jew finished his amazing story, and I learned for the umpteenth time how much effort we need to invest in order to judge everyone favorably. Even when we hear with our own ears and see with our own eyes what happened, and it seems so obvious...