December 4, 2025|י"ד כסלו ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Helping Without Hurting: How We Share Torah Values With Friends By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

A high school student of mine — let’s call her Sara — recently shared a dilemma that deeply moved me. A few years ago, she met a girl who seemed outwardly observant, and over time they became close friends. But as the friendship grew, Sara realized that this girl’s Jewish knowledge and hashkafic background were very different from her own. Basic halachot and values that Sara took for granted — washing hands in the morning, elementary Shabbat observance — were entirely unfamiliar to her friend. Yet whenever Sara shared something, the girl listened with genuine interest and appreciation, even adopting new practices because of their conversations.

Recently, this girl told Sara — quite innocently — that she had been physically affectionate with a non-Jewish boy at a party. She seemed unaware that anything about the situation might raise halachic or spiritual concerns. Sara came to me with a sincere question: given that this girl had always been receptive to Torah ideas in the past, did she have a responsibility to explain the halachot of shomer negiah and the Torah’s view on intimate relationships with non-Jews? Or was this something she should stay silent about?

I told Sara how proud I was — not only because she wanted to share Torah values, but because of the sensitivity with which she approached the situation. Too often, people offer rebuke out of disgust or judgment, and unsurprisingly, it is ineffective. Sara’s instinct was different: she wanted to help, not condemn. She wanted to share Torah, not to shame.

Halachically, this is a complex balance. There is a mitzvah of tochacha — to gently help someone when they are heading down a harmful path — but there is also a mitzvah not to say something that will be ignored or resented. Many of us have been in that position: we see a friend doing something we believe is spiritually unhealthy, yet we stay silent out of discomfort, fear of sounding self-righteous, or the assumption that “they won’t listen anyway.” And sometimes, yes, silence may be the right choice. But other times, the opportunity is real, and the silence is a missed chance to help someone grow.

In Sara’s case, this girl had already shown openness, curiosity, and gratitude for Torah she had learned from Sara. That doesn’t guarantee she would welcome mussar about relationships — but the fact that she shared the story voluntarily suggests she may be open to discussing it. Perhaps a gentle comment about the Torah’s perspective on relationships with non-Jews, or an introduction to the concept of shomer negiah, could plant a seed. No pressure, no judgment — just sharing values with humility and kindness.

That’s why Sara’s question inspired me. Many people believe that “it’s not my business” to speak up in someone else’s life. But Torah sees tochacha as an act of chesed — spiritual kindness. We are comfortable performing physical kindnesses, but spiritual kindnesses feel riskier: Who says they want my help? Who am I to say anything? And yet we all carry within us memories of gentle course-corrections from a teacher, parent, or grandparent that shaped us for life. Those who helped us grow are the ones we most appreciate.

Sara also worried that she wasn’t perfect herself — how could she offer guidance? The Gemara famously notes that in every generation, sincere rebuke is difficult because the recipient can always say, “You, too, are imperfect.” That’s why the goal isn’t to preach. It’s simply to share information, humbly and without judgment.

What Sara is wrestling with is what many of us wrestle with: How do we help the people we love grow as Jews when we ourselves are still growing? How do we balance humility with responsibility, compassion with honesty? There are no simple formulas. But if we approach these moments with sensitivity, sincerity, and a genuine desire to uplift — not to criticize — we may be able to offer someone a gift that lasts a lifetime.