Our Gemara on Amud Beis cites a verse in Vayikra (4:3) that refers to the erroneous sin of the Cohen Gadol as “Ashmas Ha-Am”, which roughly translates as “the guilt of the people.” What does this phrase connote?

The simple reading is that if the spiritual leader sins, it brings shame and even possibly spiritual consequences upon the people. Taken deeper, it can also mean that the sin of the leader is, in some sense, the fault of the people themselves. If the people were of greater stature, they would have merited a greater leader. Yet, logically, the opposite is also true: a leader is responsible to uplift and inspire his people.

In fact, one reason given for the person who commits accidental manslaughter having his period of exile dependent on the death of the Cohen

Gadol is that the Cohen Gadol is partially responsible—at least for not having prayed hard enough on Yom Kippur to avert accidental deaths (Makkos 11a).

The Gemara in Arachin (17a) records two opinions:

Rabbi Yehuda Nesia and the Rabbis disagree: One says, “The level of the generation follows the level of the leader,” and one says, “The level of the leader follows the level of his generation.”

As we have remarked numerous times in Psychology of the Daf, when it comes to non-halachic spiritual matters there is rarely a full dispute. Often each side of a machlokes represents a different dimension of the truth. Regarding this particular dispute, it is clear that both points are valid.

Like many relationships, there is reciprocity and cross-influence. Leaders inspire their people, and people inspire their leaders. This dynamic can lead toward greater nobility and holiness—or, tragically, toward decline and corruption.

When I work with couples and families, someone is often searching for “the original cause”—who is the truly pathological one? Of course, there can be individuals with greater dysfunction who bear much of the burden. But generally speaking, even if one party’s dysfunction “started the ball rolling,” the unhealthy patterns become mutually reinforced.

It is not usually differences themselves that bring couples into trouble, though people often think that way. The true problem arises when one person’s coping style directly threatens the other’s sense of safety. For example, one person may deal with painful emotions by suppressing and avoiding them, while the other may deal with them by confronting and verbalizing them. Put those two together, and without skills to manage the difference, you get fireworks. The more one partner talks, the more the other feels attacked, unsafe, and defensive. In turn, the more defensive one becomes, the more the other feels anxious and compelled to talk further. What each person experiences as “safety” becomes the other’s experience of “danger.” Unless these dynamics are understood and diffused, they reinforce pain rather than foster reflection and healing.

There are many such examples. Even when one partner clearly has greater pathology, mutual reinforcement intensifies the conflict instead of allowing growth. Consider a final example: one person is highly impulsive while the other is cautious. Within reasonable degrees, they balance one another. But when each trait becomes extreme, the impulsive partner views the cautious one as judgmental, obsessive, and rigid, while the cautious partner views the impulsive one as flighty, careless, and irresponsible. Without respectful dialogue and the humility to own their part of the cycle, they spiral further. The impulsive person feels controlled, belittled, and anxious, leading to even more reckless behavior. The cautious person feels unsafe, becoming even more critical and rigid. And so the cycle continues.

Just as in a marriage, so too between leaders and followers: The cycle is mutual, and only by each side looking inward can the destructive reinforcement be broken.