Beha'alotkha: Four Approaches to Being Humble

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Beha'alotkha (Bamidbar 8-12) recounts many aspects of Bnei Yisrael preparing to enter the Land of Israel (though their entry was ultimately delayed by 40 years). Let us focus on just one verse:

 “And the man Moshe was very humble - more than any man on the face of the earth” (12,3).

The Rambam famously writes (Laws of Character Traits, Chapter 2) that we must always strive to take the middle path in our behavior. For instance, we must not be too frugal, nor too stingy; we must not be too sensitive, nor may we be like a stone with no feelings; etc.

However, he adds, “There are character traits in which one is not permitted to take the middle path, but must rather distance himself to the extreme – such as arrogance. It is not enough to merely be humble; one must be very lowly in spirit… and therefore it is said about Moshe Rabbeinu that he was ‘very humble.’”

Similarly, in the prayer Elokai Netzor, immediately following our quiet Shmoneh Esreh prayer thrice a day, we say: “May my soul be like dust to everyone.”

The simple understanding of these words does not provide very much information as to what exactly is required of us, in terms of how to behave with humility in practical life. Let us therefore simply highlight certain perspectives on this fundamental trait.

1. The Da’at Sofrim, Rabbi Chaim Dov Rabinowitz (d. 2001) explains in his well-accepted commentary on the Tanakh what the trait of anavah, humility, truly is, and how Moshe Rabbeinu acquired it. Perhaps we can sum up his approach by saying that we are meant to understand intellectually what Moshe experienced and felt, and wage our lives accordingly. Rabbi Rabinowitz writes:

“Humility is the feeling of smallness in relation to the greatness and eternity of G-d, in the light of which, all of man’s most important matters are totally insignificant and transient, and there is simply no point in boasting about them.”

And how did Moshe reach this level? Let us not forget that he spent 40 days, twice or three times, in the upper worlds themselves, receiving the Torah from G-d.  The Daat Sofrim therefore writes that Moshe "recognized the higher worlds more than any other person on the face of the earth, and knew the insignificance of this-worldly matters compared to the eternal worlds."

This might be meant to teach that although we may not be able to truly reach this experiential level - as the Torah appears to emphasize in saying that Moshe was more humble than any person "on the face of the earth" - still, the very intellectual understanding of this idea can guide and moderate our behavior in interpersonal matters.

2. Taking a different approach, HaRav Kook, of saintly blessed memory - the first Chief Rabbi of the 20^th-century Land of Israel - quotes in his work Midot HaR’ayah the words of Rashi to B'reshit 22,1. The Torah there tells us that G-d called to our Patriarch Abraham in order to command him to bind and sacrifice his son, and Avraham responds with one word: Hineni, 'Here I am.' Rashi writes that this word represents humbleness and readiness, and Rav Kook offers these few words of explanation: "For the humble person is also quick and eager."

That is to say, Rav Kook views humbleness as the trait of being open to forego his own needs and answer the call of others – quickly, without looking for excuses, without the instinctive thought that 'I am too busy or too important to do what I am being asked to do.' One who is always ready to take on a task is truly humble. [Rav Kook also has many other valuable insights into this trait, such as: "When anavah leads to sadness, it is not acceptable;" see Midot HaR’ayah, pages 140-142.]

3. The Talmud (Sotah 5a) states: “R. Ḥiyya bar Ashi said in the name of Rav: A Torah scholar must have one-eighth of one-eighth of pride.” This can possibly be connected in an unlikely manner to chametz on Pesach! That is, there is a question as to whether it is permitted to drink tap water on Pesach, given that it invariably comes from the Kineret, where chametz is always found – and chametz on Pesach is so greatly forbidden that even a mixture of water and the absolutely tiniest amount of chametz is also forbidden. However, one reason that it is in fact permitted is because the chametz proportion in question can never lead to an actual perceptible "taste" of chametz. Perhaps this can be stated as follows: Although chametz is forbidden even in the absolute smallest amount, it must still be an amount!

Similarly regarding arrogance: In order to function in the world and not be ignored or disregarded, a Torah scholar cannot be totally and absolutely humble, but must rather have the slightest measure of pride and forcefulness, even if only "an eighth of an eighth."

4. And yet another approach is taken by many rabbis, who explain that true humility does not mean that one should negate himself, his character, and/or his accomplishments. He must rather have a true appreciation of who he is in terms of both his good and less-good qualities, and understand where his good qualities stem from. As such, one who thinks, "G-d has given me such-and-such good qualities, with which I strive to do good, and I also have other negative qualities which I must work to improve," is truly humble.

We have thus seen four approaches regarding how to be humble: understanding and internalizing what Moshe grasped; being quick to answer a call to action; retaining a jot of forcefulness; and truly understanding one's place and qualities. But all agree that arrogance, the pursuit of honor for its own sake, and lack of consideration for others, are despicable traits. The Talmud states that one who has the trait of arrogance "is as one who has repudiated the principles of our faith," and G-d says about him, "He and I cannot live together in this world."

"The man Moshe was very humble, more than any other person on the face of the earth." Let us humbly learn from Moshe our teacher, Moshe Rabbeinu.

Bamidbar: Weighing Unity Against Idol-Worship

by Rav Moshe Leib HaCohen Halbershtadt, Founder and Director of YORU Jewish Leadership, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah reading, which opens the Book of Bamidbar (Numbers), describes the desert encampment of Bnei Yisrael around the Tabernacle – four tribes in each direction, with four groups of Levites in the middle, and the Tabernacle in the absolute center (see Bamidbar 2,2). The Torah states that they had flags and otot for each tribe. The word otot often refer to "signs," and in fact Rashi explains that the flag of each tribe served to identify it, as it was colored with the color of the tribe's unique stone of the Priestly breastplate.

However, the Ben Ish Chai explains otot according to its other meaning: letters. That it, each three-tribe group had a flag, on each of which were 3-4 letters from the names of our Patriarchs – a total of 13 letters. Thirteen in gematriya (numerology) is the value of the word Echad, One – as it is spelled aleph(1) – chet (8) – dalet (4), totaling 13. Thus, the amount of letters on the flags signal and instruct Israel to always be united (not uniform…), for the importance of unity is so great that in its merit, Israel will be saved from its enemies and will not be exiled from their Holy Land, even if they sin in other ways.

This concept is so fundamental and critical that it is cited in many different Rabbinic writings. For instance, in Medrash B'reshit Rabba (38,6), we read:

"R. Yehuda HaNasi says, Peace is so great that even if Israel worships idols but there is peace between them, it is as if G-d says that He cannot control them because of the peace between them – as is written, "Ephraim is joined idols, let him be" (rough translation of Hoshea 4,17): G-d will not punish Ephraim/Israel even when they worship idols, because they are joined. [This Medrashic interpretation is not the verse's plain meaning, which is that when Ephraim is engaged in idol-worship, G-d will leave them to be punished by suffering the natural consequences of their sins. - HF] But when they are divided and not united, the Prophet says: "Their heart is split, they will now be faulted" (10,2). We thus see the greatness of peace and how hated is discord."

This concept is actually quite difficult to understand. Can it possibly be that disunity is worse than idol-worship?! After all, the Mishna says in Sanhedrin (8,5): "Dispersion of wicked people is good for them and for the world… Union of the wicked is bad for them and bad for the world." In short, unity among the wicked is very negative, as it helps them to sin.

Why then does the Medrash say that G-d "cannot" control or punish them when they are united, but rather shows them mercy? Isn't it true that a public, societal sin is worse than that of an individual, and is a greater desecration of His Name? So what if there is peace between them, when the peace is used to do sins?

With G-d's mercies and benevolence, I merited to find a precious gem to answer this question in the words of R. Shlomo Ephraim of Lunchitz, author of the classic Torah commentary Kli Yakar. He also asks this question, and answers as follows:

 "When there is peace among the idol-worshipers, they will certainly discuss the issues and debate whether there in fact is truth in idol-worship, or is it really a sham and a fake. When they are at peace, they discuss it carefully, listen to each other, and undoubtedly get to the bottom of the matter. They will then certainly conclude that it is truly valueless to worship anything other than G-d, the Creator of the World. For when people who are at peace with each other discuss a matter, they do so with attentiveness and willingness to learn and agree – and thus the truth is revealed.

Dispute Can be Peace
This is as our Sages stated in Pirkei Avot (5,17): "Every dispute that is for the sake of Heaven, such as that between Hillel and Shammai, will last." That is, even when they disagree, they still unite in their common goal of clarifying the truth according to their Father in Heaven – thus that even their dispute is essentially "peace" …

This is why the Medrash said that when Israel engages in idolatry but has peace among them, G-d extends His patience toward them – so that they will discuss and examine the matter, and will ultimately conclude that idolatry is false and has no value. This itself is the praise of G-d, when they come to understand of their own accord that they have inherited emptiness, as in the words of the Prophet Yeshayahu (48,9): “For My name’s sake I will defer My anger, and for My praise I will restrain it for you.”

However, when they sin and their hearts are divided from one another, they are immediately condemned – for even if they discuss and debate the matter, the truth will not emerge, since each one is interested only in refuting his fellow’s words. Even if he sees that the other is correct, he does not listen to him, because he wishes only to provoke and antagonize him.

This is why our Sages forbade having two Torah scholars who have ill will towards each other together on a court, since each one’s mind is set on contradicting the other’s words.

In this context we find a difference between the Sages of the Diaspora and those of Eretz Yisrael. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 24a), citing Zecharia 11,7, says that when the Prophet took two rods and called one "Pleasantness" and the other he called "Hitting," the first one refers to the Torah scholars of the Holy Land, who are pleasant to one another in Halakhic discussion, and the other refers to those in the Diaspora, who battle and hurt one another in such debate.

This is in accordance with the principle stated above, that our settlement in the Holy Land depends precisely on the quality of peace, for the cause of our exile to Babylonia was that the scholars there abandoned the ways of peace.

Quite clearly, a back-and-forth discussion conducted with mutual antagonism will never reveal the truth; peace and truth emerge only from respect and unity of hearts. 

Behar: Torah and Work, Hand in Hand

by Rav Naim Ben-Eliyahu ZT"L, Former Rosh Yeshivat Ben Ish Chai, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

One of this week's two Torah portions, Behar (Vayikra 25), begins with the laws of the Shemittah year: "In the seventh year, the land shall have a Sabbath-Sabbatical to G-d; do not plant your field or prune your vineyard…" Laws of Shemittah deal not only with agriculture, but also with business, inheritances, loans, and more. Let us therefore discuss the Torah outlook on the concept of work.

The Gemara (Shabbat 30b) tells us that in future times, the Land of Israel will produce cakes and fancy clothing. That is, during the times of Redemption, we will not have to plant and thresh and harvest, because our needs will come directly from the earth. We will then be free to spend most of our time studying Torah, in fulfillment of the teaching of R. Meir (Pirkei Avot 4,10): "Spend little time on our business and engage in Torah instead."

How can we fulfill this Mishna even nowadays, before the arrival of the Redemption? Let me recount a story that happened to me. I was once asked to perform a wedding during morning hours. I arrived on time, everything was ready – but the bride's father, who made his living by selling watermelons, had not yet arrived, and we could not begin. Finally he came, and his family asked him, "What happened, where were you?" He said, "I ordered 14, but sold only 12, and I had to wait to sell the other two." I asked someone, "He ordered 14 watermelons, and for two of them he was late for his daughter's wedding?!" He told me, "No, he ordered 14 truckloads of watermelons – and he had to sell the last two!"

When I spoke to the father later, I understood that he wakes up early each morning, works for two hours, and then has the rest of the day off… [I also know of] a young Torah scholar who specifically chose to learn dentistry so that he could work half a day and learn Torah the other half.

The point is that people can choose to plan their lives in such a way that they can both earn a living and engage in Torah study.

The above Mishna continues: "Be of lowly spirit before every person." People who plan their lives as above know what is important and what is not, and they are therefore not arrogant or haughty.

And the Mishna concludes: "If you distract yourself from Torah study, there will be many other distractions as well. But if you invest efforts in Torah, you will receive much reward." When I lived in the Old City of Jerusalem as a child, I remember a man who would sit alone in a coffee house, and then people would come and sit next to him to play cards and shesh-besh (backgammon). That was like the first part of the Mishna's concluding advice. On the other hand, we used to see in the Zohorei Chamah synagogue [still active today on Yaffo St. across from the Machaneh Yehuda shuk] that one man would sit and say Psalms – and then another two people would come and join him, and then a few more. If you want to learn Torah, others will join you!

This week we celebrated Lag BaOmer, in honor of the saintly Mishnaic sage Rabbe Shimon bar Yochai. He and his son were forced to run away from the Romans, and they hid in a cave for 12 years! Miraculously, a carob tree and spring appeared there, and they survived immersed in Torah study and eating only carobs with water. When they finally emerged from the cave, they were shocked to see people busy farming and doing ordinary work instead of being engaged only in Torah. Rashbi’s intense reaction caused destruction, and a heavenly voice rebuked them: "Have you come out to destroy My world? Return to your cave!”

After another year in the cave, Rashbi's reaction was different. Though his son still reacted very sharply to "ordinary life," Rashbi repaired whatever damage his son caused – accepting that regular human life and work also have a legitimate place alongside Torah and spirituality. Rabbe Shimon told his son, "Let the world run as it does, and our Torah study will protect it."

We learn from this story that there are three levels: The simplest is that of "regular" people, those whose first priority is to plant and thresh and work. Above them is the holy level of R. Shimon's son R. Elazar, who was so steeped in Torah study that he could not understand how people could do other things. But above all is the level of Rabbe Shimon bar Yochai, who understood that despite the great importance of Torah, there is also a valued place for those who work in other productive endeavors.

People tend to view things from their own vantage point. For instance, one who studies all day literally cannot grasp how people can waste their time on nonsense. A wealthy person as well: He works hard to earn money, and then cannot fathom how someone else can't afford to make a wedding for his daughter. He gives them 30 shekels, even though he can easily afford ten times that! Why? Because he sees them from his own vantage point: "If I can earn money, why can't they?" He doesn't think of the difficulties that others might be facing – perhaps someone is sick in the family and requires expensive medicines and care, or maybe they are carrying heavy debts from the past. Too often it happens that people have trouble understanding the other's situation.

Not Rabbe Shimon bar Yochai: He was able to understand the simple greatness of those who worked.

Rav Aryeh Levin, known as the Tzaddik of Jerusalem in the previous century, was once walking in the street when a man stopped him and asked, "Can you join us for the afternoon prayers? You'll be the tenth man for our minyan." Reb Aryeh said, "I have already prayed, but I'll be happy to help you out." Then another man came along, and Reb Aryeh asked him if he would like to join, and the man agreed. However, the sexton of the synagogue protested: "Such a man should fill out our minyan!? He's just a simple street-cleaner!"

Reb Aryeh, "What?! You're willing to take a thief for a minyan, but not this man?!" The sexton said, "What do you mean? Who's a thief here?!" Reb Aryeh said, "I’m a thief, stealing people's opinions – they think I'm a tzaddik! Instead of me, you should take this man, who works hard all day to earn his daily bread in an honest manner! Don't make light of a Jew such as him, who is very worthy to fill out your minyan!"

In short, we have learned:

* The great tzaddikim recognize the worth of those who work hard.
* One must engage in work that will allow him to spend time studying Torah.
* We must try to see things from the vantage point of others, not only of ourselves.

Emor: What's in a Memorial?

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah portion of Emor (Vayikra 21-24) discusses mitzvot pertaining to Priests – and also to the dead. Priests, holy by nature, may not defile themselves by coming close to them. In this connection, we are enjoined to remember the dead – but there are particular ways to do so.

One of the tenets of the Jewish faith is that the soul never dies; it remains eternal long after death, and when a person passes on to the next world, his life continues in This World as well. How so? His descendants, his Torah study, and his good deeds continue to live on, whether in our practical world or in the spiritual world – and they thus guarantee that his life continues on. Our Sages even taught: "The Patriarch Yaakov did not die – for just like his descendants are alive, so too he is alive."

Still and all, only one of our great Torah scholars throughout the generations merited to have engraved on his tombstone as his appellation the words Lo Met, "did not die." This was the Kabbalist R. Yitzchak Chai Taib "Lo Met," one of the most venerated Tunisian rabbis (d. 1837). It is told that he received this unique addition to his name based on the following story.

On his tombstone was engraved “died (met) on the 16th of Iyar,” instead of the more proper word niftar (which implies that he was "released" of his eternal soul in this world). The Kabbalist then visited the stonemason in a dream, ordering him to erase the word met. The stonemason said that he could not erase the word, and instead he added the word lo above the word met, such that it read that R. Yitzchak Chai Taib "did not die."

Perhaps this unique title can be explained based on another story told about R. Chai Taib, which can shed some light on the entire subject of memorialization of the deceased. It is told of a certain very wealthy and miserly Jew, far from mitzvot and Torah observance, who lived in the famous Jewish community of Djerba in southern Tunisia. When he died, he was buried with little fanfare, and barely anyone came to console his family. The leaders of the community also did not come to the house of mourners, because they had nothing good to say about him.

One of R. Chai Taib's students did go to the mourners, and then returned to tell his Yeshiva friends of the sorry situation. The students were not moved, however, saying that such is the lot of a wicked man. But when R. Chai Taib heard of the matter, he announced that he would go to the mourners' home that very evening.

News that R. Chai Taib would speak there spread quickly throughout Djerba, and many people came to hear his words. He quoted the teachings of the Sages, that man's days in this world are few, that his wealth and pleasures and enjoyments are transient and ultimately worthless, and other stark messages of this ilk.

Suddenly, from among those who came to hear the Rabbi's words was heard heavy sighing and sobbing. R. Chai Taib then said: "My brothers, at this moment when we hear heartfelt feelings of repentance in our midst, because of the deceased - know that he has merited a place in Gan Eden (Paradise). This is because the reward of one who has brought merit to [others] is great, and with his death, the deceased has brought merit to you in your reflections of repentance."

In addition to this important message that R. Chai Taib taught by making efforts to raise up the soul of even the most distant Jew, we hear also a precise formula by which it is appropriate to eternalize and remember one who has passed away. We frequently see notes in the Yeshiva to the effect that "today's study will be on behalf of the uplifting of the soul of so-and-so." But – how can this work? Is the deceased still asked to perform mitzvot even after his death? After all, we know that "the deceased cannot praise G-d" (Tehillim 115,17)!

True, once one reaches the Upper World, it is too late for him to add mitzvot and merits – but those who are still in This World can do so in his name. That is, if Jews study Torah or perform good deeds because of what he taught them or for his merit, then it is because of him that spirituality is added to the world, and with this, his soul can be uplifted.

Similarly, if the descendants of the deceased perform good deeds, or if enterprises that he built continue to add goodness to the world, it means that he is actually continuing to act in this world – and thus his soul continues to be raised up.

This means, incidentally, that there is no need to note declaratively that the good deeds are for the sake of uplifting the soul of the deceased, since they are "automatically" in his credit. However, by noting that the good deeds and Torah are specifically for his sake, this can motivate others to more spiritual awakening and devotion to G-d – which itself will then be added to the deceased's "account."

But when people are studying Torah in the Yeshiva in any event, and then someone comes and posts a note saying that it's for the soul of the deceased, this is ineffective, as the deceased had nothing to do with this Torah study. Rather, one who wishes to benefit the soul of a dear one, must do something concrete that advances closeness to G-d in the world.

For instance, if he motivates others to do an additional good deed, or to study more seriously, or contributes money so that others can do these mitzvot -- and all for the soul of the deceased – the deceased has a share and part in these good deeds, and his soul is uplifted. The soul cannot be raised up merely by hitching a ride with others.

In Parashat Emor, with which we began, we learn that the Cohanim (Priests) are linked up with "life," and are prohibited from coming in contact with death or corpses who are not direct relatives. The High Priest is further enjoined not to touch or come close even to his deceased parents; "he shall not leave the Holy."

Why is this? Is it really proper that the High Priest should thus "turn his back" on his parents who loved and raised him, and not take part in their funerals?

The answer is that it is precisely in this manner that the High Priest, the man of "inner spirit," continues the path of his parents – by living a life of spirit. He shows that it is his performance of good deeds in this world that raises up his parents' souls, and not various external ceremonies. He thus shows, in addition, that one's life continues in this world not only in his physical lifetime, but also spiritually and eternally, via physical acts of his students and descendants.

Yes, it is true that "the deceased cannot praise G-d." But one who dies "lo met," does not actually die, and his strengths continue to live on and on, and he most certainly "praises G-d," more and more, forever.

Acharei Mot-Kedoshim: The Strange Case of the Back-and-Forth Format: Rebuke with Love

by Rav Hillel Fendel.

This week's Torah reading comprises two portions – Acharei Mot and Kedoshim (Vayikra 16-20). Between them they have 79 Torah commandments, including (especially in Kedoshim) many having to do with dealing honestly in monetary matters. Perhaps most famously, however, is the commandment to "love your neighbor as yourself" (Vayikra 19,18) – and related mitzvot, such as not to embarrass people, not to take revenge, and perhaps surprisingly, to admonish those who are sinning and help return them to the Torah path. How is admonishment related to love?

The relevant verse is: "Do not hate your brother in your heart; you shall certainly admonish him, and do not bear sin because of him" (19,17). This appears to say that if one has sinned against you or offended you, do not keep your angry feelings to yourself; rather, the Rambam writes (Laws of Character Traits, Hilkhot De'ot, 6,6), you are "commanded to make the matter known and ask him: 'Why did you do this to me?'" That is, you must not let your resentment fester, but rather show him that you were offended or wronged, for the goal of making peace with him.

However, there is another way in which this mitzvah of admonishment, called "tokhecha," can be fulfilled. The Rambam (in the very next paragraph, Law 7), abandons the case of one who was wronged by another and discusses this new case: "If one sees that his fellow Jew has sinned [in general] or is following an improper path, you must [seek to] correct his behavior and tell him that he is harming himself by his evil deeds… [You should] rebuke him privately, patiently and gently, and tell him that [you are] only saying this for his own benefit, to allow him to merit the life of the World to Come..."

There are, of course, many details as to how this commandment must be fulfilled, so that it does not lead to hatred and resentment. In fact, the Rambam continues in the next paragraph (Law 8) to details some of these laws.

Fascinatingly, however, in the next law, Law 9, the Rambam returns to the original case, and says: "If one was wronged by a colleague and prefers not to admonish him or even mention the matter… but rather forgives him in his heart and bears no hatred, this is pious behavior – for the Torah is concerned only that there be no feelings of hatred."

That is to say, he no longer has an obligation to admonish! Instead, because he was able to totally forgive him, this not only takes the place of rebuke, but is actually considered a very high level of behavior.

Back and Forth

If we follow carefully the above rulings by the Rambam, we can almost not avoid asking the following question: Why does he discuss the case of one who was wronged by his colleague in Laws 6 and 9, and the laws of one who has sinned in general in Laws 7 and 8? Would it not have been more logical to place Law 9 right after 6, and thus complete the first topic, and only then to teach Laws 7 and 8?

This question does not appear to be addressed by any of the major commentaries on the Rambam. This makes it possibly even more puzzling: Why did the Rambam, the great organizer of the laws of all the Torah's mitzvot and the Talmud's rulings, choose to break up the laws of the tochekha in this manner?

Perhaps we can offer the following explanation:

The Rambam was not coming to teach us the laws of hokhei'ach tokhiach, rebuke and admonishment – but rather the "special character traits that must accompany the administering of such admonishment." That is, this mitzvah is not just a mechanical one, but rather one whose fulfillment requires special attention to how it is to be carried out.

This becomes somewhat evident when we us review some of the details that the Rambam included in the laws of this mitzvah: "If [one who has wronged you] asks you to forgive him, you must forgive…" That is, the Rambam steps back from the mitzvah of rebuking to tell you that the goal of the obligation is to be able to forgive him!

The Rambam then continues [regarding one who sinned in general]: "You must tell him that you are admonishing him only for his own good, and that he is only harming himself by his sins… You must speak to him calmly and nicely, and say that you wish only to help him attain the World to Come…" What beautiful sentiments accompany this seemingly harsh mitzvah!

The Rambam then elaborates at length that when rebuking him for sins between-man-and-man [as opposed to sins between-man-and-G-d], you must "not shame him, and certainly not in public." Don't get carried away in your fervor to rebuke and cause him shame, which the Sages teach is akin to spilling his blood! And by the by, we can infer from the Rambam's last words that you must be careful not to shame him even when talking to him privately...

And finally, the Rambam concludes by returning to where he started - the scenario of one who wronged another - and explains that the ideal is actually not to rebuke at all, if possible, but rather to attain the level of midat hassidut, true piety, and forgive him in your heart altogether! This of course only applies when one has sinned towards you, and not in general – and this is why the Rambam returns to this case at the end, in order to conclude with this highest level. 

In sum: The strange format by which the Rambam explains the mitzvah of rebuke is so that he can teach us, at the same time, the important character traits and sensitivity that must accompany its performance.