And Moshe said to God, who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the children of Israel out of Egypt. (Shemos 3:11)

I would like to share a question that I asked at my Shabbos table. Hashem solicits Moshe Rabbeinu to lead the Bnei Yisrael out of Egypt. Moshe declines, and they go back and forth for a full week-long debate! I asked the people around the table: “What do you think the real subject of that debate was?” To me, the answer is obvious: Moshe had a deeper understanding of Hashem than any of us, and even we know that Hashem doesn’t make mistakes, and knows what is ultimately best. So when Hashem says, “You are the man for the job!”, who is Moshe to respond, “No, there must be some mistake here!”? That can’t be – Hashem doesn’t make mistakes!

Rather, Moshe thought that even though Hashem sees the ultimate good, he thought that there can be secondary factors which may not be fully considered because they are not part of the bigger picture. Specifically, Moshe Rabbeinu was concerned that Aharon, who had been the premier leader of Bnei Yisrael for the past few decades, and was also his older brother, should be the one to lead Bnei Yisrael out of Egypt.  Even if the ultimate good would be for Moshe to lead the Jews out of Egypt, Moshe was unwilling to accept the role if it would slight his brother in any way. That is why he appealed to Hashem to reconsider.

This same sensitivity is mirrored in a well-known story told by the Chemdas Shlomo (Szlomo Zalman Lipszyc, a former Rav of Warsaw, 1765-1839), who was a close acquaintance of the Chidushei Harim (Yitzchak Meir Rotenberg-Alter 1799-1866). The Chidushei Harim once related a story about one of the early Peshischa Rebbes. At the onset of the Peshischa chasidus, there was a disagreement between the new chassidus and the Apter Rav (Avraham Yehoshua Heshel 1748-1825), who was the premier rebbe of that era. The Rebbe from Peshischa said, “I have the power to bring Moshiach now. But if I do, the Apter Rav will feel saddened that it was I, and not he, who merited to bring Mashiach. For that reason, I will not bring Moshiach.” And so Moshiach didn’t come.

The Chemdas Shlomo used to retell this story to explain why he never became a chasid. He said, “There are many litvaks who would be upset if I became a chasid. Therefore, it isn’t right to do something that will pain other Jews.” This is the very idea that we are discussing: Even when something is objectively the right thing to do, we still may refrain if someone might be slighted, no matter how minute the pain.

But I will share a story which shows the opposing side of this principle and is worthwhile knowing. About 25 years ago, I joined with a group of friends to launch a major community initiative. We realized that there was someone – who in our view had absolutely no legitimate claim – would feel bad about it, and insist he had the rights to lead or be involved. Based on the sensitivity we discussed, I felt that we shouldn’t start the organization, so as not to cause him pain.

Because this affected a large group of people, we went to ask Harav Michel Yehuda Lefkowitz (1913-2011). After hearing the entire story, he gave us his decision. “Whether that person has rights or not, is a Halachic question. Go down the road to ask Rav Silman (Rabbi Yehuda Moshe Silman 1944-present) who is a proper Dayan. If Rav Silman rules that this person has no claim, then you should proceed with the project, and not be concerned about his negative feelings.”

In conclusion, it seems that the Torah teaches us a delicate balance: Sometimes we must consider other people’s feelings and refrain from an action, and sometimes we must not let it hold us back. These are precisely the kinds of situations that one must turn to Daas Torah for guidance.