Have you ever walked past a group of unruly teenagers doing unseemly things and wondered, “What’s wrong with those kids?”

Have you ever seen a neighbor mistreating his children and asked yourself, “What’s wrong with that guy?”

Have you ever noticed a co-worker wasting time at work, in a manner that borders on outright thievery? Did you wonder, “What’s with them? Why can’t they just pull themselves together?”

We bump into dysfunctional, struggling people all the time, and it’s not so easy to look at them favorably.

What do we do with such people?

Let’s see what Moses did.

“I Didn’t Take Their Donkeys!”

Parshat Korach tells the story of our nation’s first populist revolution, headed by the charismatic demagogue Korach. Railing against the leadership of Moses and Aaron, and aided by the reliable rabble-rousers Dathan and Abiram, Korach cried, “The entire community is holy—why have you taken everything for yourself!”

Needless to say, Moses was shocked and upset. To set the record straight, he threw down the gauntlet, challenging the upstarts to a duel the next day: “We’ll both bring offerings to G‑d, and we’ll see whose will be accepted. Let the best man win!”

In this context, the Torah tells us:

Moses was exceedingly distressed, and he said to G‑d, “Do not accept their offering. I have not taken a donkey from a single one of them, and I have not harmed a single one of them.”1

This verse seems quite odd, as if Moses took the entire matter personally. But why? Moses was far from petty, and he knew that he was right. So why did he feel the need to seek favoritism to ensure victory? Was he insecure?

The next bit about not taking donkeys is even more puzzling. Did anyone think that if Moses did take donkeys from these rabble rousers, it would justify their sacrifice such that G‑d would accept it? The implicit suggestion is yes, but that doesn’t really make any sense: Why would Moses’ borrowing practices justify an insincere sacrifice?

“Did You Ever Reach Out?”

In fact, Moses didn’t take the matter personally, and he certainly wasn’t trying to curry favor with G‑d to gain an advantage over his opponent. He didn’t need that.

An alternative reading of the text suggests that he was actually doing the opposite: he was trying to absolve his opponents. Moses turned to G‑d and tried to explain that although their sacrifice was insincere and didn’t deserve to be accepted, the people bringing it were not at fault.

In other words, as the quintessential Jewish leader always looking out for the welfare of his people, Moses was justifying their behavior, giving possible reasons for their mutiny.

What was his defense?

“I didn’t take a donkey from them.” In other words, Moses was saying, “I didn’t interact with them! If only I had tried to reach out to some of these people and create a connection—any connection, even taking something from them!—who knows how differently things might have turned out?”

If there aren’t conventional ways of befriending someone, asking them to lend you something, or even buying it from them is also an option. Anything to create a connection, Moses reasoned.

“I have not harmed a single one of them.” In other words, Moses was saying, “At the very least, I could have tried criticizing them, or gently reminding them that they’re up to no good. But I didn’t do that either.

Moses was a true leader; he cared deeply for his people. So when he saw the moral failings of an entire group, he immediately looked inward. He didn’t try blaming or shaming them. “How dare you?!” he could have yelled, and he would have been entirely justified. But that wasn’t Moses. His first address was himself, asking the all-important question: What could I have done to prevent this?

It wasn’t long before Moses realized that perhaps a little attention could have gone a long way. The lack thereof was enough to explain their egregious behavior and replace any anger with compassion and a desire to help them improve.

Reach Out and Stop the Fall

Moses’ reaction is a master class in how to view those who are struggling or even failing.

It’s all too common for people to see others falling into dark places and to blame and shame them. “Ugh, how could they do that to themselves? What’s wrong with them? Why are they stooping to such lows?” With these judgmental, dismissive words, the judge and jury becomes the executioner, too—killing all chances for that poor fellow to climb out of the darkness.

Don’t make that mistake. Take Moses’ approach. Tell yourself, “It could very well be that it’s not their fault. Maybe no one ever truly reached out to them and tried to help them. Or maybe someone did, but did it all wrong, missing the mark and messing them up even further.”

Don’t blame or recoil in horror. Understand that a heaping pile of neglect lies right underneath it all. With that realization, try to reach out and see what you can do. Make a connection first, and then work from there. Show them you care, and then (maybe) tell them what you know.

You see a neighbor is up to no good? Borrow some eggs and see if you can become friendly! Did you notice teenagers on the street doing drugs and can’t seem to relate to them? Borrow a phone from one of them to make a call, have your car “break down” on that corner and ask for help—whatever it takes! Figure out some way to make a connection and make inroads.

Take a donkey or two, and maybe, just maybe, you can save them from being the next Korach to fall into the abyss.2