Some years ago, when I was in Israel, I had a conversation with a charming and knowledgeable rabbi who wore a black hat, sidelocks, and a black frock. We were discussing lashan hara, or evil tongue, which refers to gossiping or speaking ill of someone behind their back.

The rabbi surprised me by saying, “The only thing worse than lashan hara is murdering somebody.”

I laughed, because I thought he was joking, but the serious look on his face told me he wasn’t.

“When you say bad things about a person and the person is not there to defend himself, you murder his spirit.”

“Even if what you are saying is true?” I asked.

“Yes, even if it’s true. But there is a corollary to lashan hara. You should have the courage to tell a person to his face what he has done wrong. In that way, he has a chance to change and correct his behavior. If he doesn’t know, how can he change?”

Source: Paul Ross, with permission

I thought back to a recent conversation I’d had with a friend. She talked about herself incessantly, and if I tried to interject a thought or change the subject, she went right back to talking about herself. I found it both boring and irritating to be with her, and I decided to cut off the friendship. I stopped returning her calls or answering her emails and texts. One day, she texted me a question, “Have I done something to offend you?” I decided to answer her. “Yes, you have,” I wrote back to her. “But I am reluctant to tell you.” “I would like to know,” she wrote.

I took a deep breath and then called her directly. I spoke kindly, but I knew my words were harsh. I told her that there was no space for me when we talked. It was always, incessantly about her, and it made me feel discounted and relegated me to a listener whose words had no importance.

She began to cry, and I had the sickening feeling that I had done something destructive, but when she finally spoke it was opposite from anything I expected. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. “You have done me a great favor. I have other friends who back off from me and don’t want to get together anymore. I think that what you feel is what they must feel too. So, you have done me a service by pointing it out to me.”

I told the rabbi about that experience and he smiled and nodded as I spoke. “That is the right thing to do. Always give a person the opportunity to improve, to strengthen the spirit.”

Source: Paul Ross, with permission

Ever since that conversation, I have tried to be honest with people and invited them to be the same with me. If something bothers me about their behavior with others or with me, I ask them if I may tell them what I am feeling. When they say yes — which they always do — I gently, kindly, tell them what I find troubling. They don’t get angry, and sometimes they say “thank you.” And when somebody tells me something I have done wrong, it gives me the opportunity to apologize because I wasn’t aware of the behavior or what I did was unintentional.

Every time I have an honest conversation with someone, it enhances my spirit and is a relief, even if the subject is awkward or uncomfortable for them or me or both of us.

And every time I say something bad about a person, I get an uncomfortable twinge and feel guilty because I know I shouldn’t be doing it. None of us is perfect, and of course I slip, but my inner space feels larger and I like myself better when I behave like my best self.