Anyone who has studied the sweep of Jewish history knows that Jewish life often ebbs and flows. Sometimes it is from external forces, such as anti-semitism or assimilation, or internal forces, like a desire to reinvent and reinvigorate Jewish life. The early Jewish Reformers in the late 1800's in Germany responded both to external forces--the desire to assimilate and be a "Jew in one's home and a man on the street"--and an internal desire to make Jewish life more compatible with modernity. There was a very real sense that the Jews of 19th century Germany had finally "made it" and could be both fully German and fully Jewish. This is one of the main reasons that the early Reformers did not embrace Zionism: they fervently believed that their fellow countrymen no longer viewed them as a nation apart and therefore did not see the need for a Jewish state. Sadly, the horrors of the Holocaust quickly changed the Reform perspective on statehood for Israel by emphasizing the need for an established and sovereign country for Jewish refuge. When Reform Judaism made its way to America and was institutionalized by Rabbi Isaac M. Wise, there was a backlash against what some Jews saw as "radical" reforms...and some of them were quite radical. Early Reform rabbis went by the title "Reverend", prayer was exclusively conducted in English and there was even a push to move Shabbat from Saturday to Sunday. While there are very few Classical Reform synagogues left in the US, the vestiges of this extreme swing to assimilate can still be felt in almost every corner of Jewish life.

While there is still a desire to align Jewish practice with modern values and sensibilities, like fully embracing diversity, equity and inclusion, there is a very noticeable tug to return to something more tribal; more authentically Jewish. There is a palpable sense that younger Jews, while not necessarily interested in formally affiliating with a Jewish institution, are viewing their Jewish identity in a much different way than their parent or grandparent did. Being Jewish is unique and interesting. It brings a certain amount of color and, dare I say, "coolness." Even with a marked uptick in worldwide anti-Semitism, more people than ever before are willing to publicly embrace their Jewish identity, rather than try to "pass."

This sense of Jewish pride is catching. During the pandemic, synagogues across the US were seeing a very marked uptick in conversion candidates. The Washington Coalition of Rabbis began hosting a statewide online Intro to Judaism course in 2021 and had over 70 students. Just one year late, in 2022, that number nearly doubled. While there are many within the affiliated Jewish community who lament an ever increasing intermarriage rate, I believe something special and unexpected is happening. More and more people are becoming proximate with members of our Jewish community, whether at work or at home. The divisions between the Jewish and non-Jewish community here in America have all but dissolved, but rather than giving up on their Jewish identity, these "assimilated" Jews are getting non-Jews more interested in Judaism. While this interest may never turn into conversion, I love their willingness to learn about and appreciate Judaism. I believe this type of outreach is what will ultimately be our salvation and, who knows, it might just herald in the next great renaissance in Jewish life.

Right now I am reading (and loving) the book Radical Candor: How To Be A Kick-Ass Boss Without Losing Your Humanity, by author Kim Scott. It's one of a litany of books on management and leadership that I have been devouring of late. It has so many good tips on how to have frank conversations with people when the stakes are high and the outcome uncertain. She defines "radical candor" as the ability to care personally and challenge directly. This is actually a familiar concept in Judaism, but instead of "radical candor" we call it "tochechah", which I often translate as "loving rebuke." According to the talmudic rabbis, rebuke is an integral part of love; as they say without tochecha, love cannot endure. (Bereshit Raba 54:3).

So let me define tochecha and tell you why we need it now more than ever.

In its most literal application, Tochecha is done when someone has violated God's law and, for the sake of the larger community, must be corrected. As the Torah says "all Israel is responsible for one another." In fact, tochecha is so important that if you fail to rebuke someone for violating the law, you yourself become guilty of the violation.

Clearly, as modern Jews, this more literal interpretation and application is not as resonant. And yet, God's law is not just about keeping kosher or separating our wool from our linen. It's about our moral behavior towards one another; it's about creating and maintaining healthy communities; it's about our obligations and responsibilities to our children, our spouses, our neighbors, our friends, and even the stranger among us. Torah literally means instruction and is a guidebook to better living. So how can tochecha be applied today? In the form of radical candor!

Kim Scott, in her book, says that there are four ways to give feedback. The best way is to be radically candid, which involves establishing a caring relationship for the person who you wish to give feedback to, and then giving that feedback in a clear, direct and actionable way. The purpose of radical candor is to help someone grow and improve and, if done right, is the foundation for trust and perhaps even mentorship. The second type of feedback is what Scott calls "obnoxious aggression" and while no one really enjoys being on the receiving end of this type of feedback, it is better than the next two types: ruinous empathy and manipulative insincerity. Ruinous empathy happens when you care too much, either about the other person and your relationship with them, or your own self-interest to be liked. Ruinous empathy involves little or no critical feedback and allows others to keep making the same mistakes without receiving any correction. The fourth type, Manipulative Insincerity, is when someone shows no care or concern and never has the courage to give any kind of feedback. Those who practice manipulative insincerity fall into one of the worst sinful behaviors that we have in Judaism-lashon ha'rah, translated as evil tongue or gossip. As a faith that believes the entire universe was created with speech, we know that words have the power to both create and destroy. Lashon ha'rah can ruin relationship, families and careers and it is in direct opposition to tochechah/radical candor.

I'm sure many of you have been the target of lashon ha'rah at some point in time. I too have recently been a target of it, and it has been incredibly painful. Often, the best thing that many of us can do when we encounter these individual is distance ourselves from them, but perhaps that is not all we can do. By practicing tochechah in our own lives, and on a regular basis, we set a standard for open and honest communication. I must admit that I frequently fall into the category of ruinous empathy. I am a certain type of rabbi who is hard wired to comfort people, not correct them, but I have come to find that, just like our Ahavah Rabbah prayer, love and law often go hand-in-hand. Tochechah/radical candor is not always comfortable and often involves a great deal of work and thought, but ultimately it leads to better communication, which is the foundation of any important relationship.

For more information on Radical Candor and to find other great resources from author Kim Scott, check out her website: www.radicalcandor.com