Rav Yisrael Salanter observed that when someone is intensely involved in one mitzvah, he might overlook another. Sometimes, people who are deeply absorbed in mitzvos between themselves and Hashem may neglect those between themselves and others. Rav Yisrael would say that every section of the Shulchan Aruch has its own mazal. Unfortunately, the mazal of Choshen Mishpat—the section that addresses interpersonal law—is that it is not observed as meticulously as the other parts of the Shulchan Aruch. He would also quip, “My Choshen Mishpat is longer than that of other people”. In other words, he demonstrated interpersonal sensitivities that somehow others overlooked. I want to share some stories and lessons from Rav Yisrael to illustrate this.

Rav Yisrael once had a wealthy student who put a lot of effort and money into making Shabbos meals beautiful. The student invited Rav Yisrael to join him for a meal. Rav Yisrael said he accepted invitations only after learning how the home was run, to determine whether it met his standards. The student described how carefully kashrus was observed, the integrity of the cook—the widow of a talmid chacham—and the learning and singing at the meal, which often ran late into the night. After hearing this, Rav Yisrael agreed to come, but only if the meal would last no more than two hours. The student was disappointed that Rav Yisrael would not experience the full, elaborate meal, but he was pleased that he had at least agreed to come.

After the meal, the student, hoping he had impressed his teacher, asked Rav Yisrael if he had observed any problems with how the meal was conducted. Rav Yisrael did not answer right away. Instead, he asked to see the cook. When she arrived, he apologized for insisting on a short meal, since it probably made her work harder to serve everything quickly. The cook told him there was no need to apologize. In fact, she wanted to thank him. She explained that she worked hard all day and barely had the energy to stay up so late for the usual long meal. She was grateful to Rav Yisrael for making the meal shorter and giving her a chance to rest.

Rav Yisrael told his student that the meal was beautiful, but it should not come at the cost of the widow. Having long, elaborate Shabbos meals is just an extra way to honor the mitzvah, but causing pain to an almanah is a serious Torah prohibition. We must be careful that trying to enhance a mitzvah does not lead us to violate the Torah.

Similarly, Rav Yisrael did not write an approbation for the Sefer Chafetz Chaim because he disagreed with one halachah. The Chofetz Chaim writes that if someone spoke lashon hara about another person, even if that person does not know, the speaker must ask for forgiveness as part of the teshuvah process. Rav Yisrael disagreed, because apologizing would let the person know that something derogatory was said about him, which would cause him pain. Rav Yisrael said that the need to do teshuvah does not allow someone to transgress the Torah prohibition of ona’as devarim - hurting another person’s feelings. The details of this story are discussed more in my book What Can I Say Today (p. 277), but the relevant lesson is that we should not do a mitzvah at someone else’s expense.

Rav Yisrael also taught that when waking up early for selichos, we must remain considerate of others. He explained that people can easily stumble in bein adam l’chaveiro due to their eagerness to go to shul for selichos. For example, a person might make noise and wake up family members or neighbors. In a rush, he might knock over a water pitcher and leave a puddle that others could slip on. When he gets to shul, he finds his shtender is not in its place, complains about the gabbai, and even confronts and embarrasses him in public. All of this results from his sincere eagerness to recite selichos, yet he does not realize that, in his zeal, he has lost more than he has gained.

Rav Yisrael illustrated this further with a personal anecdote from his youth. One Yom Kippur night, he was on his way to maariv and saw someone whose face showed deep fear of the day, with tears running down his cheeks. Rav Yisrael stopped him to ask an urgent question, but the man was so focused on his own teshuvah that he ignored Rav Yisrael completely. Rav Yisrael thought, “Why should I suffer because of your fear of Heaven and awe of the Day of Judgment? How does your spiritual focus come at the expense of someone else? Why should your desire to do teshuvah allow you to overlook simple courtesy toward another person?

Now contrast this to a story about how Rav Yisrael acted on Yom Kippur. On the eve of Yom Kippur, the community waited for him to start Kol Nidrei, but he did not arrive, so they began without him. They also waited for him for maariv, but he still did not come. He finally arrived at the end of maariv.

After davening, Rav Yisrael explained what happened. On his way to shul, he heard a baby crying and went to see what was wrong. He discovered that the mother had entrusted her infant to the care of her six-year-old daughter in order to attend Kol Nidrei. The sister had fallen asleep and did not hear the baby crying. Rav Yisrael went inside, fed the baby, and woke up the sister so he could go to shul. But the little girl begged him not to leave because she was scared to be alone. So Rav Yisrael stayed with the children until their mother came back from maariv.

Rav Yisrael was pleased he had the chance to do this act of kindness on such a holy day. Looking after the children was an even greater mitzvah than participating in the Yom Kippur tefillos. I am sure the mother learned a lesson when she found Rav Yisrael Salanter watching her children instead of going to engage in his own tefillah!

I once heard a story about Rav Shlomo Wolbe zt”l when he was studying at the Mir Yeshiva in Poland. One Yom Kippur, a friend of his was sick, so Rav Wolbe slipped out of davening to visit him. He was surprised to find that he was not the only visitor. Some of the most respected students in the yeshiva were already there, taking care of the sick boy—even in the middle of Yom Kippur davening!

I heard this story in a pre-Yom Kippur speech one year. That same year, my mother told me she was sick with a stomach illness, and her rav said she should drink small amounts of water on Yom Kippur. I was surprised by this and asked the rav about it. He explained that because of her condition, there was a real risk of dehydration, which could be life-threatening. After Yom Kippur, my mother told me that my mother-in-law had come to visit her while she was home alone in bed. My mother said, “She was like an angel of mercy. I was all by myself feeling terrible, and she left davening just to check up on me!”

I felt so embarrassed. Just a few days earlier, I heard a whole speech about paying attention to others’ needs on Yom Kippur and not focusing only on ourselves. Yet it never even occurred to me to visit my own sick mother. I was concerned about fulfilling the mitzvah of bein adam l’Makom — such as whether she should eat or drink — but I gave no thought to the equally important interpersonal mitzvah.

I want to conclude with a personal story about being sensitive to others on Yom Kippur. It was September 27, 2001, just 16 days after the 9/11 attacks. The world was still in shock, and our prayers during that Yom Kippur were especially intense. I was davening in the Yeshiva beis medrash at Ner Yisroel when, in the afternoon, we suddenly heard an explosion. The sound was frightening, but it turned out to be a transformer failure, not a terrorist attack. Our beis medrash still had electricity, but the Mechina beis medrash lost power.

At minchah, some two hundred people from the Mechina beis medrash crowded into our already full beis medrash so they could have light for minchah and neilah. As far as I know, there had never been so many people davening together in one beis medrash on Yom Kippur at Ner Yisroel. The day, already intense, became even more so.

That year, I had rushed out of the seudah hamafsekes to get back to yeshiva for davening, so I didn’t have time to drink enough before the fast. Because I was not hydrated and the davening was so intense, I felt very weak by the end of mussaf. To make matters worse, davening took longer than usual, and the break before minchah lasted only a few minutes. As I started the minchah shmoneh esrai, I began to feel faint in the crowded beis medrash. I quickly finished minchah, ran out, and lay down in the lobby to avoid passing out. Eventually, I was able to sit up, though I still felt terrible. By the time neilah began, a few other bochurim who also felt sick had joined me in the lobby.

The power of the voices emanating from the beis medrash during this neilah was unparalleled. I couldn't believe I was missing such a special experience, but I knew I wouldn't make it through the fast if I went back inside. I davened a short shmoneh esrai—not as rushed as minchah—and maybe a few piyyutim, as much as I could manage.

Sitting in the hallway, away from the uplifting tefillos and the energy of the beis medrash, I felt alone and disconnected. Then, someone came out—it was Rabbi Aharon Tendler, a member of the Mechina faculty. He checked on each sick boy. He was concerned about me and instructed me to get a drink at nightfall, even before neilah was over. I was deeply moved. He left the most intense tefillah, on the most intense day, in the most intense year, just to check on us. But, as we have seen, Rav Yisrael would say that this was actually the greatest merit.

May we all be blessed with a meaningful Yom Kippur and achieve complete teshuvah, while also maintaining the proper balance with all of the mitzvos bein adam l’chaveiro.

By Rabbi Dovid Jaffee. Audio shiurim from Rabbi Jaffee are available at shasilluminated.org