An integral part of rabbinic education is called “shimush”—on-the-job practical training. Typically, a junior rabbi will follow a senior rabbi around for a few years, like an internship. These mentoring years are vital to our system of oral law transmission. No matter how many books of the oral law have been committed to writing, there are certain elements that can only be transmitted from teacher to student.

The story is told of a junior rabbi who is seated in the senior rabbi’s office when a woman comes in with a chicken, inquiring as to its kosher status. “Kosher!” the senior rabbi rules. The next day, another lady arrives with her chicken that looks just like the previous day’s case. “I’m sorry, it’s not kosher,” says the elderly rabbi. She thanks him for his time and guidance and leaves.

The young rabbi turns to his mentor, incredulous. “With all due respect, rebbe, I don’t understand! What was the difference between those two chickens?”

“There was no difference between the two chickens,” replies the senior rabbi. “There was a difference, however, between the two women. You see, the first lady that arrived is a widow eking out a meager living by selling eggs early each morning in the marketplace to feed her seven orphaned children. For her, I utilized a lenient opinion in the Shulchan Aruch. The other lady, thank God, is married to a wealthy parnas—a community benefactor—and so I gave her the standard halachic ruling.”

Today’s daf discusses the obligation to shave one’s head that takes place in the rituals of the nazir and the metzora. If an individual was undergoing both rituals, could a single haircut suffice?

“Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai’s students asked him: ‘If a person was a pure nazir and a leper, may he shave once, and have it count both for this and for that?’ He said to them: ‘He may not shave once for both requirements.’ They said to him: ‘Why?’ He said to them: ‘If the aim of both shavings were the same, this one to grow hair and that one to grow hair, or this one to remove hair and that one to remove hair, you would have spoken well. But, the two shavings have different functions: A nazir shaves to remove his hair (in celebration of his, heretofore, abstinence), and a leper shaves to grow hair (in anticipation of his final purification seven days later).’”

From Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai’s students’ perspective, a haircut is a haircut. What difference should it make why he’s doing it? Their rabbi responds that they both may appear to be doing the same thing, but their motivation comes from very different places. In this scenario, the nazir’s haircut serves to remove his hair, while the leper’s haircut prepares him for his subsequent purification ritual.

No two individuals are the same. Even when people appear to be performing the same mitzvah, it’s futile and inappropriate to judge their conduct. The observer simply has no idea what is driving each of them. Every individual has his own challenges and natural temperaments and only God knows what is in his heart.

To utilize a simple example, let’s say two people each donate $1,000 to the congregation’s capital campaign. One of them is making $500,000 a year. For him, the donation takes little effort. The second is barely making ends meet, and has quietly struggled to pull together his donation by means of careful budgeting and putting aside $20 a week, over the course of a year. The donations appear to be the same, but—in reality—they are completely different.

But, before you start judging the first donor, consider the following possibility. Maybe that contributor is dealing with a major illness in the family, and he has medical bills that are piling up. Suddenly, his $500,000 is not quite as big as it sounds. And the head of the campaign—who has no way of knowing what expenses an individual is dealing with—must never judge when a donor such as this one says that he cannot afford to give any more.

This example is not merely hypothetical. This exact situation arose when I was a rabbi in Canada. Universal healthcare is generally an incredible blessing of the modern era in most western countries. However, sometimes, an ill person is dealing with a major malady that local doctors cannot resolve. When that happens, the family will go to the ends of the Earth to cure their loved one. And so, I knew several individuals who sought medical help from American facilities, such as the Mayo Clinic. More often than not, they did not share their challenges with their friends, let alone strangers. Consequently, while unwitting observers may have envied their apparent wealth and wondered why they did not contribute more to local causes, they did not know the real challenges with which these families were dealing.

Or, let’s consider Torah study: One fellow comes to shul every evening and sits and learns for two hours solid. Another fellow attends a shiur two nights a week. As an uninformed observer, it’s tempting to think of the second as less committed to Torah than the first. But, maybe, the first simply has more of a penchant for learning? Or, maybe, the second has an ADHD kid at home with whom he learns every night so that the child can keep up in school?

That’s why you can’t compare yourself to anyone else in your service of Heaven. The amount anyone else is giving to tzedaka is irrelevant to your life. How often your friend attends minyan should have zero impact on your attendance. The number of hours your friend spends learning Torah should have no bearing on your learning schedule. No two people who appear to be tackling the same task are doing the same thing. Each individual has an entirely unique set of internal and external challenges.

That is also why you can’t simply adopt a heter, a permissive ruling, that a rabbi has given your friend. Every situation is different, and every person is different. A good rabbi will know when to rule more leniently and when to apply the halacha more strictly. There are certainly basic guidelines for decision-making in the four sections of the Shulchan Aruch, but as the classic saying goes, “Most importantly, the rabbi must be expert in the fifth section”—common sense, sensitivity and empathy with the particular questioner.

No two haircuts are alike. No two people are the same. Every individual has his own natural proclivities, strengths and weaknesses, opportunities and challenges. May you never judge anyone, and may you never compare yourself to anyone else as you strive to achieve your very best in your own unique divine mission!

Rabbi Dr. Daniel Friedman is the author of The Transformative Daf series and the founder of the Center for Torah Values. www.transformativedaf.com