I can’t keep up with my email. This is not exactly breaking news for those of you who already have been frustrated by my failure to respond to some of the emails you’ve sent. But I mention my struggle, all the same, to spread the awareness among those of you who have not realized that your rabbi is significantly “email challenged.” You should know that leaving me a phone message is almost always a better bet (even if it’s just to call my attention to an urgent email you’ve sent me!).

I also mention my email problem as a chance to reflect on the dangers of projection and the urgency of finding the courage to do a reality check when someone else’s action (or inaction) hurts us. Early in Genesis, the tremendous outcry in Sodom and Gomorrah makes God aware of the evil being practiced there. In response, God says: “Let Me go down and determine whether they are wreaking havoc in equal measure to the shrieking that is coming to Me. If not, I will know (Gen. 18:21).” The midrash wonders why an omniscient God would need to “go down” and do such an investigation. Wouldn’t an all-knowing God already know what’s happening in those two cities? Tradition responds both that God wanted to give the evil cities one last opportunity to repent (by delaying the final judgment) and also that God was providing a model for human judges, who “…must scrupulously examine a case before pronouncing judgment; and further, that just as God ‘went down’ to see, so must we not judge another until we have come to see things from the other’s viewpoint (Midrash B’reisheet Rabbah 49:6).”

Too often, when people fail to answer our emails, don’t say hello as we pass them in the hallway, don’t respond to our invitations, don’t include us in their plans, leave early when we’re doing a presentation, or fail to follow through on a promise they made, we assume the worst. They don’t care for us or our feelings. They don’t value or like us. At best, we assume that they’re just thoughtless and irresponsible and, at worst, that they hurt us on purpose. Sometimes, unfortunately, these interpretations are correct. People are not always good or kind. But it’s also possible that we carry these untested, painful assumptions around for long periods of time and they’re just incorrect. They may accurately reflect our own vulnerability or insecurity or fear but not the reality of what happened and why. We fail to follow God’s example and “go down” to check if our interpretation was accurate or to give the offenders a chance to explain and apologize.

Of course, this act of “going down” to do a reality check on our assumptions takes considerable courage. It is, after all, possible that our worst fears will be confirmed and the person really didn’t care for us or actually did hurt us on purpose. Such a response could be very hard and painful to bear (not to mention, pretty ego-deflating). So, of course, we often don’t even bother to check. Who would want to take the risk of getting hurt by the same person twice?

But it’s also possible that when we take the time to find out what someone’s behavior meant, we learn that we interpreted it incorrectly. Perhaps, we took the behavior personally when it wasn’t really about us. Maybe, we learn that they didn’t even realize they’d hurt us and now want to apologize. Sometimes, we learn that the ones who hurt us also have been struggling to find courage, courage to take responsibility for their failure, and are greatly relieved when we give them the opportunity to make things right.

All of which brings me back to my email problem. You should know that I can’t keep up and have, to a large extent, reconciled myself to the fact that I just won’t get to them all. Each day, I read and respond to as many emails as I can (some days as few as five and others, as many as twenty-five) but there are always many more messages that I don’t even get to open. Like Charlie Chaplin trying to keep up with that manic, overflowing conveyor belt, before I can return to those previously unopened emails, 50 brand new ones have flooded my inbox.

I tell you this not so you’ll feel sorry for me or try to help me resolve my email problem. I tell you this so that you’ll know that my failure to respond isn’t personal and also, that if a matter is really important, you should call. Meanwhile, if my failure to respond to an email has already hurt your feelings, I am truly and deeply sorry and hope you’ll call so we can talk about it and I can apologize in person. But please, don’t send an email to make the appointment!

-Rabbi Jonathan Kraus