A mentor of mine, Rabbi Shais Taub, grew up in Chicago. Back then, the Bulls practiced in a simple facility called the Multiplex and he and his friends would gather around the building after school watching the basketball players come and go.
Once, after a practice in the mid 80’s, the boys followed Michael Jordan as he was leaving the building. Twelve year old Shais was the last in line. By the time he came to the front, Jordan was already entering his Corvette. He tried a last attempt to get his attention and signature, sticking his hands into the car, only to hear the famous athlete scream at him “Get your hands away from the car…or they're going to get slammed by the door!”
He was more than humiliated. Everyone else got an autograph and he got yelled at (talk about a flagrant foul!). He came home rejected and cried to his father how much he hated the local star.
Rabbi Taub’s father went into action. He found out Jordan's home address and sent him a handwritten letter. He explained how he knew Jordan was a better person than what transpired and he probably didn't realize how much he hurt a young boy's feeling. He finished by saying that he knows that he is a respected athlete and is sure he can find a way to earn back the love of a young fan.
Less than a week later, the phone rang and little Shais was told he had a phone call. The unmistakable voice of Michael Jordan was on the line. He asked the boy if he still considered himself a fan of his and invited him to go down courtside next time he was at a game. Indeed, a short time later, he met Jordan - this time with a smile, picture, and signature.
As Rabbi Taub got older, he realized this story was less about a great basketball player...and really about a great Dad. He was in awe of the way his Dad felt his hurt and went above and beyond to make him feel better. How in the world did he find a way to bring together a pained child and a world-famous athlete not exactly known for his sensitivity? That took love, sincerity, risk, and a great understanding of human nature (His Dad after all is a psychologist!)
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Every year during this Parsha, I think of Aharon, the brother of Moshe. The Torah goes out of its way to highlight that he was universally mourned after his passing in this week's Torah portion.
Aharon was beloved by all. Because he made all capable of loving. Indeed, he was known as the ultimate peacemaker.
There wasn't a family-fight or business-disagreement that he couldn't resolve. He was the ultimate mediator known for saving marriages and repairing friendships.
How? Not only through clever communication or meditation tricks. Through his love, humility, and connecting to everyone with compassion.
Aharon's friendly shalom and warm gaze were so impactful that the person was lifted beyond petty disagreements and fights.
One famous Midrash puts it this way:
"Then two people were fighting with one another, Aaron would go and sit next to one of them and say: My son, look at the anguish your friend is going through! His heart is ripped apart..He is saying, How can I face my old friend?
Then Aaron would go to the other person in the fight and say: My son, look at the anguish your friend is going through...Aaron would sit with him until his rage subsided. When the two people saw each other, they would embrace...
Some might say Aharon was compromising on truth for the sake of peace. But it runs deeper than that. He brought out the true core of others. He lived higher and thus caused others to live higher. An encounter with him brought out your "Neshama," and it's no wonder that the "better you" emerged.
The world desperately needs more of this "Aharon" peace.
Peace does not mean you will agree on issues. It means going beyond any particular issues. Elevating a conversation to that place that we do agree.
Peace does not mean you do not see something wrong. It means having the "soul vision" to see past the negativity of another and into their Divine Soul.
And when we can do that, just like Aharon, the other often responds in kind...