We are our own worst critics. (“What a lazy bum you are!” “What a selfish person!” “You’re such a bad spouse/parent/child!”) In this chapter we’ll explore ways to soften the sting of such harsh self-critical thoughts. But first—a quick crash course in criminal law.

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In medieval times, confessions were considered an indisputable reason to convict someone. If the prosecution extracted a confession from the defendant, the case was sealed. What more could possibly be needed? He admitted it himself!

As civilization progressed, it became clear that many innocent people were being forced to admit to entirely fabricated crimes. Beginning in the 1600s, the Western legal system adopted a law called corpus delicti (“body of the crime”). It stipulates that corroborating evidence of an actual crime having taken place is always needed for conviction. Confession alone is not enough.

However, even under corpus delicti, confession still plays a major role: Once police have confirmed that a crime has indeed taken place, confession can sometimes be the only evidence pointing to who the criminal is. In many legal systems today, self-incrimination is enough to determine a suspect’s guilt, and no other evidence is required.

Jewish law takes a different position. Rava, the great chair of the Babylonian Talmudic academy at the turn of the second century CE, famously ruled: “A person is their own relative, and thus a person cannot be trusted to render themselves wicked.”1 Even if a crime has been confirmed, if there is no evidence indicating who the criminal is, one’s own testimony is not relied upon to render them “wicked,” i.e., guilty. The reason? “A person is their own relative.”

What does that mean?

One interpretation2 is that Rava’s words point to a profound psychological truth: “A person is their own relative”—our minds are incapable of being objective about ourselves. Just as our minds can inflate our accomplishments and self-worth, they can similarly exaggerate the severity of our failures. Therefore, says Rava, even if you testify about your own guilt, your testimony is not sufficient evidence. Your subjective mind may see your actions in a far worse light than the objective reality merits.

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When people would berate themselves to the Rebbe, depicting their grim moral state or overall failed existence, he would often teach them Rava’s ruling. He would explain that as human beings, we see things subjectively, and, being emotionally involved, it is easy for us to see our state as dramatically worse than it is. As he concluded a letter to a man who lamented his utter incompetence:

May it be G‑d’s will that you recognize the truth in the saying of our Sages that “a person is their own relative” and therefore doesn’t judge their own situation accurately, sometimes tilting their assessment to the right and sometimes to the left.3

Similarly, in response to a young man who asserted that despite a year of working to improve himself he remained the exact same flawed individual he was before, the Rebbe wrote the following:

There is a well-known ruling of our Sages: “A person cannot be trusted to testify about themselves,” since “a person is their own relative.” And just as regarding legal matters one is trusted to testify neither in favor of their own innocence nor the opposite [i.e., their own guilt]—the same is true regarding matters of the heart…. Although it may be true that you had the ability to change more than you did, Heaven forbid to say that in the last twelve months you haven’t changed at all! Indeed, the verse says,4 “Distance yourself from falsehood.”5

So the first point to remember when confronted by a self-critical thought is this: You are “your own relative.” This taints your perspective, and makes you susceptible to exaggeration. Don’t trust the dark picture your mind is painting. In all likelihood, it doesn’t reflect reality.

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Jewish wisdom takes this a step further: Overblown self-criticism is more than just a side effect of your subjective mind. It is also a symptom of a dark inner force that actively propels such destructive thoughts.

The Negative Inclination

The Talmud teaches that every person has two yetzers—two opposing inner forces.6 One motivates you to do what is right, to grow, to be better; this is called the yetzer tov—the good inclination. The other seeks to hinder you and put you on the path of self-destruction; this is called the yetzer hara—the evil inclination.

The Chasidic masters would often7 refer to the yetzer hara as der klugenker (Yiddish for “smart aleck”), explaining that this negative voice is quite clever with how it brings you down. It doesn’t try to seduce you with obvious nonsense that’s clearly out of line with your values (“Hey, why don’t you rob that bank?”). Quite the contrary, it uses moralistic negative self-talk in the spirit of your dearest principles (“What a disgraceful hypocrite you are!”) to shrewdly put your weaknesses on display and lead you to despair.

Nosson Gourary was an American teenager and yeshiva student in the 1960s. He had an ongoing correspondence and several personal meetings with the Rebbe about his studies and development. “One time,” he related, “I complained to the Rebbe that everything I do is with ulterior motives.

“The Rebbe told me that being that this simply isn’t true—there are times that you do things without ulterior motives—you should know that it is only your yetzer hara trying to bother you, and you should say to your yetzer hara that you don’t have time to spend with him, since the issue is fundamentally false. Especially since the Talmud teaches that mitoch shelo lishmah ba lishmah8—one who acts out of ulterior motives will eventually come to act for the right reasons—a person must therefore continue to do Torah and mitzvot even with ulterior motives, and eventually his motives will be pure.”9

Here we see the Rebbe take a common mode of self-critical thinking, one that teenagers are especially prone to (“Everything I do is to impress other people… to advance a personal agenda… in order to get attention. I’m a fraud!”), and expose it for what it really is—a devious tactic of the yetzer hara that will get you nowhere. Don’t be convinced by this seemingly authentic self-censure. Dismiss the voice obsessing about motives and continue the good things you’re doing.

In another instance, a young woman wrote to the Rebbe that she aspired to go into education and was currently enrolled in a course for teachers. However, she was experiencing a loss of concentration and self-confidence, leading her to doubt whether she was capable of being a good teacher.

“It is clear,” begins the response,

based on what I have heard and know about you, that divine providence has gifted you with a talent for education, with the ability to absorb knowledge well, and in general with those characteristics necessary to succeed as a teacher and educator….

In addition to the above, one of the tactics of the yetzer hara, who wants to disturb a person from serving their Creator—which necessitates peace of mind; a confidence that everything the Creator does is for a good purpose; and thus a confidence that alongside the talents gifted to you, you were also certainly provided the ability to actualize them purposefully—is to convince a person that a temporary and normal setback is in fact much more serious, by inflating and intensifying it in their eyes….10

Identifying highly self-critical thoughts as the voice of the yetzer hara can help you push back against that line of thinking. When you take a step back and see it for what it is—merely a tactic of your evil inclination—it loses its hold on your emotions and becomes easier to ignore.

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All this leads us to an important question: Aren’t some self-critical thoughts good? Don’t some of them allow you to recognize your defects and growth opportunities? And if so, how can you know when the voice is constructive and when it’s a tactic of the yetzer hara?

The Bottom Line

There is a simple barometer from the Chasidic masters:11 Ask yourself what the end result of these self-reproachful thoughts will be. Will they lead you to do good, to improve yourself, to be more productive? Or will they lead you to self-doubt, despair, and stagnation? If the answer is the latter, however profound and virtuous the thoughts seem, you can be sure they stem from the yetzer hara.

A response to a teacher who had written to the Rebbe that he sometimes thinks to himself, ‘‘Who am I to teach others, knowing what I really am?” reads as follows:

The barometer to discern from where such thoughts arise is already known: if they inhibit you from a good activity, it is certain that these thoughts stem from “the other side” [i.e., the side of Kelipah, or impurity], as the Rebbe Rashab taught. Be done with scatter-headedness and distracting thoughts of this sort, and may you share good news of your positive influence on your students.12

An American businessman once wrote to the Rebbe that he expected far more of himself than he was in the position to accomplish. These thoughts were plaguing him and he felt dejected. In the response, after noting that the sentiment to expect more of oneself every new day is usually a virtue, the Rebbe continued,

Nevertheless, the important thing is that such calculations should bring an additional measure of energy and activity. But it should be remembered that energy and activity can come only from a state of vitality, which is the opposite of frustration. Therefore, if one’s reflections have the result of bringing only frustration, then the thing to do is to dismiss such reflections from the mind in order to be able to carry on one’s daily activities with joy.13

Tzvi Grunblatt was born in Argentina in 1954 to a father who had survived the concentration camps and a mother who had escaped Hitler’s Germany. The community in Buenos Aires where he grew up was made up mostly of European immigrants and survivors seeking a safe haven from the ashes of Europe. Although they taught their children some nostalgic Jewish traditions, the vibrant spirit of Judaism was considered to be hopelessly lost, along with everything else of their old homes.

However, being a thirsty soul, young Grunblatt gravitated towards a Chasidic man who was active in the community. Something was different about him. His soulful prayers and his passion for life stirred something in Grunblatt.

“If you want to explore Judaism in depth,” the man advised him, “go to New York and study in the Rebbe’s yeshiva.” Grunblatt took up his suggestion, traveled to Brooklyn, and eagerly ventured into the new world opening before him. He threw himself into the bottomless sea of the Talmud, the mystical universe of Chasidic teachings, the vigilant work of self-refinement, and the immersive experience of meditative prayer.

Nonetheless, despite his sincere efforts, he felt deeply inadequate. He would regularly criticize himself that he was failing in his pursuits and that he wasn’t living up to the image of a true Chasidic yeshiva student. Vexed by these thoughts, he felt an urgent need to meet with the Rebbe to discuss his spiritual state. He beseeched the Rebbe’s secretary to override the normal waiting time and squeeze him into the busy schedule. Finally, his request was granted.

Grunblatt later recalled: “The Rebbe said to me, ‘Regarding what you write that you can’t do this and can’t do that, that you’re not successful in this or that—our Sages have said that “if you put in effort you will succeed.” This was said to me, and to you, and to other Jews. Thus, since you put in the effort, you certainly had success. Your critical thoughts that you’re failing simply cannot be true.’

“The Rebbe then continued, ‘Any type of thoughts that lead you to dejection [are certainly not virtuous, for they] only detract from your vigor in action, they only detract from bitachon [trust in G‑d], and they only detract from your time and energy. Thus, any [denigrating] thoughts that deject you—you must throw them out!’”

Grunblatt took those words to heart. Two years later, as a newly-married man, he returned to Argentina with his wife, Shterna, and spearheaded one of the great Jewish revivals of modern times, building and overseeing what is today a network of over sixty synagogues, Jewish schools, and social service organizations across Argentina.

Recounting that meeting some forty years later, Grunblatt lingered for another moment: “Those were his words to me… ‘You must throw them out!’”14

It Is Prohibited

There is yet another tool to disarm the yetzer hara’s weapon of self-denigration.

A central teaching in the Torah is the prohibition against engaging in lashon hara—derogatory speech.15 Even if the content of the speech is accurate, one is prohibited from pointlessly speaking ill of someone, discussing their weaknesses, or recounting their misdeeds.

In his counseling, the Rebbe would often quote the Chasidic saying that “the prohibition against talking badly about someone applies to talking badly about oneself, too.” And this doesn’t apply only in cases of exaggeration; such speech is prohibited even if it is entirely true. Bemoaning your flaws for no constructive reason is not only not a virtue—it is wrong.

“I just received your recent letter,” begins a 1953 response,

and I have also received your previous letter. I am dismayed by the [harsh] words you write about yourself. I have recounted multiple times in the past an anecdote that my saintly father-in-law [Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, the previous Rebbe] repeated to me: An individual once visited him for a private audience and asked for a way to mend various things. While posing his query, he described himself and his spiritual state in dreadful terms. In response, my father-in-law told him that the severity of the prohibition against speaking badly about someone is well known—and this, he continued, includes also oneself.16

In a letter responding to a man who criticized himself sharply, the Rebbe explained the reasoning:

The prohibition of lashon hara applies even to oneself. And this is true about every single person. Because each and every person has a divine soul that is “a part of G‑d.” And even at the time of failure, it remains connected to G‑d.17

Pointlessly dwelling on our faults and mistakes is an affront to our essential divine soul, which remains untarnished. We are denigrating it by our self-depreciation, even if it is true. All the more so that it is often our subjective mind and evil inclination deceiving us.

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Let’s conclude with a short story:

Mendel Lipskar was a Canadian teenager studying in Brooklyn in the mid-1960s. Gifted with an acute mind, he excelled in analyzing the cryptic dialogues of the Talmud. However, despite his academic success, he was running into difficulties with his study partner. “We were constantly at loggerheads with each other,” Lipskar recalled. “Whatever he would say, I would contradict; whatever I would say, he would contradict.” Lipskar began to harbor doubts about what this combativeness indicated about his character. Disturbed, he decided to bring it up in an audience with the Rebbe.

“I told the Rebbe that I thought there was something wrong with me that I was arguing with this guy all the time. But the Rebbe said to me simply, ‘It would appear that you have a gift for pilpul.’ By pilpul, he meant the ability to reach the core of a given idea through intense dialogue and debate. Suddenly, something that had seemed to be a problem, I now saw as something positive—we were arguing because we were dissatisfied with a shallow reading of the text; we wanted to find a deeper meaning. It wasn’t a flaw to denigrate; it was instead a virtue to cultivate.”18

Takeaway

Self-critical thoughts are confusing. They speak in the name of character development, but they often don’t feel quite right. Are they the voice of your moral compass? Or are they something else to be ignored?

Use this simple tool to dispel the confusion: Look ahead to the results. Does this line of thinking lead you to actionable growth? Or does it bring down your spirit and lead you to despair? If indeed the latter is the case—as it so often is—know that these thoughts are certainly the voice of your yetzer hara (evil inclination) trying to derail you. Treat this critic as the conniving enemy that it is.

It also helps to remember the following: “a person is their own closest relative” and you inevitably have a subjective perception of your own shortcomings. Furthemore, regardless of the objective reality, such futile self-denigration is morally wrong, as it disparages your beautiful, G‑d-given soul.

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However, once you have identified these thoughts as something you want to rid yourself of, they won’t necessarily leave. Our minds are in fact populated by thoughts we prefer not to engage with. So what now?

This leads us to a broader cognitive tool found in the Rebbe’s counseling.