A few days ago, my wife sent out one of her regular emails; a standard update about the work we do.
A woman, I’ll call her Sarah, wrote back quickly: “Please stop emailing me. You and your scammer husband. Unsubscribe!”
I was confused. This wasn’t a stranger. I knew Sarah. We both did. We had helped her along on her Jewish journey a few years prior. She came to my Torah classes. She came to our shul. She came to our home for Shabbat.
She had many questions and I answered them all with genuine patience, respect, and care.
Then, about a year and a half ago, she disappeared.
As far as I’m aware, nothing happened to alienate her. We had no conversation or disagreement. She simply stopped coming, as she is entitled to do!
But now, out of the blue, she was responding angrily to us and calling me a scammer! I couldn’t get the words out of my head.
A scammer? I never sold her anything, solicited a donation, or took a penny from her. So what exactly was the scam?
I puzzled over it for a while, and then I realized that wasn’t really the point. The point is that people don’t always see us as we see ourselves, and don’t always experience interactions the way we do. Sometimes they write entire stories about us in their minds.
You can give someone your time, your energy, your heart, your hospitality, your friendship, but years later they may remember the relationship completely differently than you do.
And that's extremely painful.
This morning, I stood at the Ohel of the Lubavitcher Rebbe alongside tens of thousands of Jews marking the Rebbe's 32nd yahrtzeit.
What was I thinking of as I waited in line for my turn to pray and say a few words at the graveside? I was thinking about Sarah.
If there is one lesson the Rebbe taught the world, it is this: Love another Jew.
Not because they agree with you, appreciate you, or speak kindly about you. But simply because they are a Jew.
The Rebbe's love wasn't conditional and ours shouldn’t be either.
The Rebbe taught us to look past the behavior and see the soul, the Divine spark. Sometimes it’s hidden behind frustration and anger, or even insults, but it’s there.
So, strange as it may sound, I have no anger toward Sarah.
Of course, I will honor her request and remove her from our mailing list. That's the easy part.
The harder task is the one the Rebbe taught us: to continue loving someone even after they have hurt or misunderstood you. To see their goodness even when they don’t see yours. To look at someone who has judged us unfairly and still say (and truly mean), “I want only good things for you.”
I don't know what happened in Sarah's life that made her stop coming, nor do I know what has colored her perceptions of me. And I may never know.
But I do know that if she called tomorrow and needed help, I would help her. And if she showed up at my door for Shabbat, there would be a seat waiting for her.
But because that's what the Rebbe taught us.