I've always believed that loving your children doesn't mean protecting them from every consequence of their own behavior.
Sometimes you have to say no.
Sometimes you have to let them be angry.
And sometimes you have to stop rescuing them from situations they keep creating for themselves.
But I've also never believed that being a parent gives someone unlimited authority to make decisions without considering how those decisions affect the child.
Even when that child is legally an adult.
Which brings me to an episode of 7th Heaven that I've never quite forgotten.
It's called "Bye," and it aired November 13, 2000, during the show's fifth season.
Mary Camden, played by Jessica Biel, has become a source of constant worry for her family.
She's lost jobs.
She's accumulated debt.
She's been lying to her parents.
She's spending time with people who are getting her into trouble.
And her brothers and sisters have become so desperate to help her that they've taken $500 from the baby twins' savings to cover her bills.
Eventually, Reverend Eric Camden and his wife Annie decide they've had enough.
They gather the family in the living room.
Everyone takes a turn explaining how Mary's behavior has affected them.
And when the conversation is over, Mary learns that she's being sent to Buffalo to live with her grandparents.
That very night.
No lengthy discussion.
No opportunity to spend a few days considering the arrangement.
Her parents have made their decision.
Now, I understand why Eric and Annie were frightened.
I understand why they wanted to intervene.
And I certainly don't believe Mary should have been allowed to continue behaving as though her problems were everybody else's responsibility.
But there's something about the way this intervention unfolded that deserves a closer examination.
The Camdens were right to stop enabling Mary. The more difficult question is whether they helped her take responsibility for her life—or simply took control of it when they became frightened of what she might do next.
I think the answer is more complicated than either side would like to admit.
Mary Didn't Suddenly Become Irresponsible Overnight
Before we examine the intervention, I think we need to remember who Mary was before everything began falling apart.
She wasn't always the Camden child who couldn't hold a job or manage her money.
For years, Mary was an accomplished basketball player.
She worked hard.
She competed.
She had goals.
And she was good at something that gave her a recognizable place in the world.
Then came the trouble with her high school basketball team.
During the fourth season, Mary and several teammates vandalized the school gym after becoming angry about a team lockout.
She was arrested.
She lost her college scholarship.
And the future she'd imagined began to unravel.
Now, I don't excuse vandalism simply because someone feels disappointed.
Being angry with a coach doesn't give you permission to destroy school property.
And losing opportunities because of your own misconduct is an unfortunate but perfectly legitimate consequence.
But I also think we should recognize what happened afterward.
Mary hadn't simply lost a basketball season.
She'd lost something that had helped define who she was.
She'd gone from being a successful athlete with a promising future to a young woman struggling to figure out what came next.
That doesn't explain every poor decision she made.
It certainly doesn't excuse the lying.
But it tells us something important.
Sometimes irresponsible behavior is a symptom of someone losing direction, not evidence that the person has suddenly lost every decent quality she ever possessed.
A good parent ought to recognize the difference.
Not to excuse the conduct.
To understand what needs to change.
The $500 Wasn't Just About Money Anymore
By the time "Bye" begins, Mary's financial problems have become a family affair.
Her credit-card debt is piling up.
She's struggling with her car payments.
She isn't earning enough money to meet her obligations.
And rather than confronting the situation honestly, she's allowing other people to help conceal it.
Matt, Lucy, Simon, and Ruthie become involved in finding money for her.
Eventually, they take $500 from the savings belonging to their baby brothers, Sam and David.
Five hundred dollars.
From babies.
I don't know about you, but I think that should have been a fairly obvious indication that the family had crossed from helping Mary into creating an entirely new problem.
Now the siblings are lying to their parents.
They're worrying about replacing the money.
They're becoming angry with each other.
And little Ruthie ends up trying to take responsibility for the entire mess.
She even attempts to conceal the missing money by filling the banks with rice.
Rice!
I have to give the child points for creativity, although I wouldn't recommend her accounting methods.
But there's an important distinction here.
Mary was responsible for her own debt and for asking relatives to help her financially.
The siblings were responsible for deciding to take money from Sam and David.
Those are related problems, but they aren't identical.
Mary didn't personally empty the twins' piggy banks in the scene we're discussing.
Her brothers and sisters made that decision.
And I think it's important to hold everyone accountable for what they actually did rather than treating Mary's behavior as the automatic explanation for every subsequent mistake in the household.
Still, the larger problem is obvious.
When helping one family member requires everyone else to lie, steal, or neglect their own responsibilities, something has gone terribly wrong.
And Eric and Annie were right to stop it.
Was This an Intervention or a Family Ambush?
When Mary returns home, she finds everyone gathered in the living room.
She's immediately suspicious.
And who wouldn't be?
Imagine coming home expecting to go upstairs, only to discover your entire family sitting around waiting to discuss everything you've done wrong.
Sounds like a delightful evening.
Mary recognizes the situation as an intervention.
Eric insists it's something closer to a prevention.
He believes she's heading toward serious trouble and wants to stop her before the consequences become worse.
I can appreciate the reasoning.
Mary is still on probation.
Her parents are worried about her drinking, her association with Frankie and Johnny, and the possibility that she could end up in legal trouble again.
These aren't imaginary concerns.
And when a young adult repeatedly ignores warnings, it's understandable that parents may feel a more serious conversation is necessary.
But I have mixed feelings about making every sibling participate.
An intervention can give someone an opportunity to hear how her behavior has affected others.
It can also make the person feel surrounded, judged, and humiliated.
Those possibilities aren't mutually exclusive.
And I think the difference depends on how the conversation is conducted.
Are people there to explain their concerns?
Or to make sure the person being confronted knows she's disappointed everyone in the room?
Are they offering help?
Or simply listing grievances?
And is the person being confronted actually allowed to participate meaningfully?
Because a family meeting shouldn't become a trial in which everyone else has already agreed on the verdict.
I don't think the Camdens intended to humiliate Mary.
But I do think we should consider how it must have felt to sit there while one family member after another explained what was wrong with her life.
Matt Admitted Something Parents Shouldn't Ignore
One of the more interesting contributions comes from Matt, played by Barry Watson.
Matt is the oldest Camden child.
He's had his own struggles with responsibility.
And he's hardly in a position to pretend that every decision he's ever made has been wise.
Which is why I appreciate that he doesn't approach Mary as though he's morally superior.
He acknowledges that he hasn't been as involved in her life as he should have been.
He admits he's avoided dealing with what was happening.
And he recognizes that he might have spoken to her much sooner.
I think that's important.
Because families often become very good at noticing someone's problems after those problems have become impossible to ignore.
But what were they doing beforehand?
Were they listening?
Were they asking questions?
Were they offering guidance?
Or were they hoping the situation would resolve itself?
Matt recognizes that he can't demand responsibility from Mary while pretending his own lack of involvement has nothing to do with their relationship.
He also tells her that becoming responsible was one of the most important decisions he made for himself.
And he's right about that.
Nobody can force another person to develop good judgment.
Parents can establish rules.
They can create consequences.
They can offer opportunities.
But ultimately, Mary has to decide what kind of adult she wants to become.
Responsibility isn't something another person can install in you like a new kitchen appliance.
You have to participate.
And Matt seems to understand that better than anyone might expect.
Lucy Understood That Mary Had Lost More Than Basketball
Of all the older siblings, I think Lucy offers one of the most thoughtful observations.
Lucy, played by Beverley Mitchell, remembers the sister she admired.
Mary had been successful in school.
She'd been talented.
She'd been confident.
And she'd given Lucy someone to look up to.
But now Lucy doesn't recognize the person her sister has become.
What's especially interesting is that Lucy doesn't stop at criticizing Mary's behavior.
She tries to identify what changed.
She connects Mary's downward spiral to the loss of basketball.
Not because basketball was the only worthwhile thing in Mary's life.
But because it had provided structure, confidence, discipline, and a sense of accomplishment.
Lucy encourages her sister to find that part of herself again.
Maybe through another sport.
Maybe through competition.
Maybe by remembering that she still has abilities worth developing.
And I think that's useful advice.
There are times when people need someone to remind them that they are capable of doing better.
Not because they're worthless in their current condition.
But because their present circumstances don't represent everything they can become.
I explored a much darker example of why young people need adults and friends who notice what they're experiencing in "The Facts of Life Episode That Still Haunts Me: What Nobody Saw in Cynthia."
The situations are very different, but both stories raise an important question about what happens when people see troubling behavior without fully understanding the person behind it.
Lucy is trying to look beyond Mary's mistakes.
And I give her credit for that.
Sometimes the most helpful question isn't simply, "Why are you behaving this way?" It's "What happened to the person who used to believe she had a future?"
That doesn't eliminate accountability.
It gives accountability somewhere constructive to begin.
Simon Offered the Most Practical Advice of the Evening
Then there's Simon.
And I have to admit, I rather appreciate his approach.
While everyone else is discussing feelings, disappointment, identity, and family relationships, Simon wants to talk about numbers.
Mary has debt.
She isn't earning enough money.
She's spending more than she can afford.
And she doesn't have a realistic repayment plan.
So Simon offers to help her create a budget.
Imagine that.
An actual practical solution.
He also reminds her that the money belonging to Sam and David needs to be repaid.
And I agree.
Family members shouldn't automatically be expected to absorb financial losses simply because the person who owes them money is going through a difficult time.
Now, I wouldn't take Simon's position as a universal rule that family debts must always come before every other financial obligation.
Real financial situations can be more complicated than that.
But his underlying moral point is sound.
Mary has responsibilities to real people whose money was used to rescue her.
And making things right ought to matter.
I also like that Simon offers to help her work through the numbers rather than simply telling her she's irresponsible.
That's an important distinction.
It's easy to criticize someone for being bad with money.
It's more useful to sit down with that person and explain how to create a workable plan.
Of course, Mary would still have to follow it.
And nobody should expect Simon to become her permanent financial manager.
But I think he offers something valuable.
If you're going to demand responsibility, help someone understand what responsible behavior actually looks like.
A lecture may express your disappointment.
A practical plan can help change someone's conduct.
Those are different things.
Ruthie Was Angry, and She Had Every Right to Be
Now we come to Ruthie.
And this is where the episode really gets my attention.
Ruthie, played by Mackenzie Rosman, isn't particularly interested in delivering the kind of reassuring speech her older siblings have been giving.
She's angry.
And she says so.
She's tired of waiting for Mary to come home for dinner.
She's tired of being disturbed when Mary returns late.
She's tired of hearing her parents argue.
She's tired of having to cover for her sister.
And she's especially upset that Mary broke a promise to spend time with her.
The pizza night Mary never showed up for.
Now, that's the part I find especially revealing.
To the adults, Mary's problems involve employment, debt, probation, and potentially dangerous friendships.
To Ruthie, the problem also involves something much simpler.
Her big sister doesn't seem to care about her anymore.
And that hurts.
A child doesn't necessarily understand the complicated pressures facing an older sibling.
But she understands disappointment.
She understands broken promises.
She understands when dinner is constantly delayed because everyone is waiting for someone who doesn't come home.
And she understands when her parents are so preoccupied with one child that the rest of the household seems to disappear.
I don't think Ruthie should have been expected to participate in solving Mary's problems.
That wasn't her job.
But I do think she deserved an opportunity to express how she felt.
And she was entitled to be angry.
A struggling family member deserves compassion. But the other people in the household deserve compassion, too.
One person's crisis doesn't cancel everybody else's feelings.
That's something families sometimes forget.
But Why Was a Ten-Year-Old Carrying So Much of This?
Here's where I think Eric and Annie deserve some criticism.
Ruthie is ten years old.
Ten.
She shouldn't be lying about money.
She shouldn't be worrying about how to replace $500.
She shouldn't feel responsible for protecting her older sister from the consequences of financial problems.
And she certainly shouldn't believe that keeping the household together depends on her ability to conceal what the older children have been doing.
The fact that Ruthie is willing to take the blame for the missing money should have told her parents something important.
Not merely that Mary had become a problem.
But that the boundaries between adult responsibilities and childhood responsibilities had become badly confused.
Ruthie needed to be removed from that burden.
She needed her parents to tell her that Mary's finances weren't her responsibility.
She needed reassurance that she didn't have to lie to protect anyone.
And she needed to know that her own needs still mattered.
I also think there's something uncomfortable about a child becoming the emotional spokesperson for everything that's gone wrong in a household.
Ruthie's frustration is legitimate.
But she shouldn't have been placed in a position where expressing that frustration became part of the family's strategy for confronting Mary.
There's a difference between allowing a child to speak honestly and involving her in an adult disciplinary process.
I would have preferred Eric and Annie to speak with Ruthie separately, reassure her, and make it clear that the adults would handle the situation.
Then, if Ruthie wanted Mary to know how hurt she'd been, they could help her communicate that without making her responsible for the outcome.
Children can be affected by adult problems without becoming responsible for solving them.
And sometimes the most important boundary parents can establish is the one that protects the younger children from burdens they never should have been carrying.
Eric Was Right to Be Concerned About Marijuana, but His Privacy Argument Bothers Me
After the siblings leave the room, Eric and Annie continue speaking with Mary privately.
That's when Eric reveals that he searched her room and found a marijuana joint.
Mary is furious.
She insists that she hasn't smoked it.
She also objects to having her room searched.
Eric responds by treating privacy as a privilege that can be withdrawn while someone lives under a parent's roof.
Now, I understand his concern.
Mary is on probation.
Her judgment has been questionable.
Her parents have legitimate reasons to worry about the company she's keeping and the possibility of additional legal trouble.
And I don't think finding marijuana in those circumstances is something Eric should simply ignore.
But I have a problem with the idea that an adult child living with her parents has no meaningful claim to privacy.
Living in someone else's home does involve responsibilities.
You don't get to disregard every household rule.
You don't get to create dangerous situations and insist that nobody is allowed to question your behavior.
But privacy isn't merely a reward for good conduct.
It's also part of treating someone with dignity.
I can recognize that Eric was frightened without automatically agreeing with every argument he used to justify his actions.
And I think parents should be careful about turning household authority into a declaration that their adult children have no rights worth respecting.
Mary wasn't entitled to hide behavior that endangered other members of the household.
But Eric also wasn't entitled to assume that every action he took became wise simply because he was her father.
Concern can justify intervention. It doesn't eliminate the need for judgment, restraint, and respect.
And I would have liked that distinction to receive more attention.
Sending Mary to Buffalo Wasn't Simply Throwing Her Out
Now let's discuss the decision itself.
Eric and Annie tell Mary that she's going to live with the Colonel and Grandma Ruth in Buffalo.
The arrangement isn't presented as a vacation.
Mary will have responsibilities.
She'll work at a community center serving people experiencing homelessness.
Her early paychecks will go toward repaying Sam and David.
And she'll eventually take a community college course with her grandmother.
In other words, the Camdens have actually developed a plan.
And I think that's important.
They aren't simply putting Mary's belongings on the sidewalk and telling her to figure out where to sleep.
They're sending her to relatives who have agreed to help.
They're providing a stable place to live.
They're establishing expectations involving work, education, and financial responsibility.
And they're trying to separate her from the circumstances that have contributed to her recent behavior.
Those are meaningful distinctions.
I don't believe sending an adult child to live with willing relatives is automatically abandonment.
Sometimes a change of environment can be helpful.
Sometimes another trusted adult can communicate something a parent has been unable to get across.
And sometimes the distance gives everyone an opportunity to stop arguing long enough to reconsider how they're treating one another.
But there's another side to this.
Mary is told she's leaving that night.
Her bags are ready.
Her parents have made the arrangements.
And although Eric briefly offers to consider a better plan if she can produce one before departure, she has almost no meaningful time to respond.
That's a tremendous amount of control being exercised over someone else's life.
I understand why the Camdens wanted immediate action.
But I also wonder whether a young adult who already feels powerless and confused might interpret this as proof that her parents have given up on her.
I would have wanted Mary involved in creating the plan.
Not because she deserved veto power over every household boundary.
But because a plan for helping someone become independent ought to involve that person's participation.
Otherwise, what exactly are we teaching?
That responsibility means making decisions?
Or that responsibility means obeying whatever decisions other people make for you?
Those aren't the same lesson.
Annie's Doubts Make the Decision More Human
One reason I don't think this episode should be interpreted as a simple celebration of harsh parenting is that Annie herself isn't entirely comfortable.
She's frightened.
She's upset.
And she repeatedly needs reassurance that they're doing the right thing.
She questions whether they should be sending Mary away rather than continuing to handle the situation themselves.
I appreciate that.
Because parenting isn't supposed to be an exercise in pretending every difficult decision comes with absolute certainty.
Sometimes parents have several imperfect choices.
Sometimes they have to act without knowing exactly what will happen.
And sometimes the most responsible thing an adult can admit is that she's frightened of making the wrong decision.
Eric believes Mary needs a fresh environment.
He believes the Colonel can provide firmer guidance.
And he believes remaining close to the same friends and circumstances would put her at greater risk.
I can see the reasoning.
But I also appreciate Annie's hesitation.
She's not questioning whether Mary needs help.
She's questioning whether this particular solution is the right one.
That's an important distinction.
We can agree that someone needs to change without agreeing on the best way to bring about that change.
And I would be suspicious of any parent who claimed that a decision of this magnitude required absolutely no reflection.
Strong parenting isn't the absence of doubt. Sometimes it's the willingness to examine your own judgment even when you're convinced something must be done.
Annie's uncertainty doesn't make her weak.
It makes her human.
Mary Finally Admits Something Important at the Airport
The ending is one of the reasons I find this storyline so interesting.
Mary is furious about being sent away.
She refuses to give her brothers and sisters a proper goodbye.
She's angry with her parents.
And she clearly resents having so little control over what happens next.
But at the airport, something changes.
Mary acknowledges that she really didn't know how to get herself out of the trouble she'd created.
She even admits that she'd prayed for a way out.
Now, that doesn't mean she's suddenly happy about going to Buffalo.
She isn't.
And it doesn't mean her parents handled every part of the situation perfectly.
But it does reveal something important.
Mary had been struggling more than she'd been willing to acknowledge.
She wasn't simply having a wonderful time while everyone else worried unnecessarily.
She was lost.
And somewhere beneath the defensiveness, she knew it.
I think that makes the ending more meaningful.
Because sometimes people resist help not because they don't need it, but because admitting they need it feels unbearable.
They may be ashamed.
They may be frightened.
They may not know where to begin.
And when someone finally confronts them, their first reaction may be anger.
That doesn't necessarily mean the intervention was a failure.
But neither does an eventual admission of distress prove that every method used was appropriate.
Both things can be true.
Mary needed help. And Mary still deserved to be treated as a person whose feelings mattered.
I wish more television stories were willing to hold those two ideas together.
What Jewish Wisdom Teaches Me About Correcting Someone You Love
There's a Jewish concept I think fits this episode particularly well.
It's called tochacha—the obligation to offer correction when someone is doing something wrong.
The principle appears in Leviticus 19:17.
But here's what makes it interesting.
The same verse that speaks about correcting another person also warns against incurring wrongdoing in the process.
Rashi's commentary explains that rebuking someone must not become an excuse for publicly humiliating that person.
I find that distinction enormously important.
Because it means that having a legitimate complaint doesn't give us unlimited permission to express it however we please.
You can be right about someone's behavior and wrong about how you confront it.
You can have good intentions and still cause unnecessary harm.
And you can insist on accountability without reducing another person's dignity.
That's what I think the Camdens needed to consider.
Mary was wrong to lie.
She was wrong to ignore her financial responsibilities.
She was wrong to keep putting herself in situations that created unnecessary risks.
Her parents were entitled to confront those problems.
But the purpose of correction should be improvement.
Not humiliation.
Not revenge.
And not the satisfaction of finally telling someone everything she's done to disappoint you.
I also think Pirkei Avot offers a useful principle about judging people.
We're reminded to consider others fairly rather than assuming we understand everything about their circumstances.
That doesn't mean pretending all choices are equally acceptable.
It means recognizing that conduct and character deserve careful judgment.
Mary wasn't a hopeless person because she was behaving irresponsibly.
Nor was she an innocent victim simply because her parents' decision upset her.
She was a young woman making poor choices who needed guidance, boundaries, and an opportunity to rebuild her life.
And the rest of the family had responsibilities, too.
Her siblings needed to stop covering for her.
Her parents needed to protect the younger children.
And everyone needed to recognize that Mary's problems wouldn't be solved simply by being angry with her.
To me, being a mensch means understanding that responsibility and compassion belong together.
If you genuinely want someone to become a better person, your goal should be to help that person find a better way to live—not merely make sure she knows how disappointed you are.
That's the moral distinction I'd want the Camdens to remember.
What I Would Have Done Differently
If I were in Eric and Annie's position, I wouldn't have continued allowing Mary to behave as she had been.
She would have needed to account for her debts.
She would have needed to find employment or pursue a realistic educational plan.
She would have needed to stop relying on her siblings to rescue her.
And I would have made it clear that lying and creating legal problems weren't acceptable conditions for remaining in the household.
But I would have wanted a serious private conversation before turning the living room into a family meeting.
I'd want to know what Mary thought had happened to her life.
Was she frightened about the future?
Was she ashamed of losing her basketball scholarship?
Did she actually want help finding work?
And what did she believe she could realistically do to begin repairing the damage?
Those aren't excuses.
They're questions that might help identify a workable solution.
I would also have spoken separately with Matt, Lucy, Simon, and Ruthie about the money.
Taking money from Sam and David was wrong.
Even if the motivation was compassion.
And I wouldn't want the younger children leaving the experience believing that Mary's misconduct somehow excused their own dishonesty.
Then I'd consider what outside help might be useful.
The grandparents were offering a genuine opportunity.
That's worth discussing.
But I would want Mary to understand why the arrangement was being proposed and what she would need to accomplish there.
I would also want clear expectations about how her progress would be evaluated and what would happen afterward.
Sending someone away without a realistic path forward can leave the person feeling rejected rather than supported.
And if the situation involved an immediate safety concern, I would address that directly rather than using vague threats or dramatic ultimatums.
The practical side of teaching responsibility matters just as much as the consequences. I explored that in "How to Teach Children Responsibility Without Shaming Them," including why fair consequences should help someone learn rather than simply make them feel bad.
Of course, Mary might still have refused to cooperate.
That's possible.
And Eric and Annie wouldn't have been obligated to support her financially forever while she ignored reasonable expectations.
But at least they could have established boundaries without confusing authority with control.
A parent can say, "I won't continue supporting this behavior," without saying, "Therefore, I get to make every decision about your life."
And I think adult children deserve to understand that distinction.
My Verdict: The Camdens Were Right to Act, but Tough Love Needed More Love and Less Theater
I don't think Eric and Annie were wrong to intervene.
Mary's behavior had become serious.
She was accumulating debt, losing employment, ignoring warnings, and placing increasing pressure on the people who loved her.
Her siblings were lying.
The baby twins' savings had been taken.
And Ruthie was being drawn into problems no ten-year-old should have been expected to handle.
Something needed to change.
I also don't think the plan to send Mary to her grandparents was inherently unreasonable.
She would have a safe place to live.
She would have opportunities to work and study.
And she would have adults willing to help her establish a more responsible routine.
Those were meaningful advantages.
But I don't believe the decision becomes perfect simply because the Camdens were frightened.
Mary was a young adult.
She needed to learn how to make responsible choices.
And I would have preferred to see more effort to involve her in making those choices rather than presenting her with an almost entirely completed plan.
I also think Ruthie should have been protected from the family's financial and emotional turmoil much sooner.
Her anger was understandable.
Her honesty was valuable.
But she shouldn't have been carrying the burden of keeping her older sister out of trouble.
And I wouldn't overlook Lucy's observation about basketball.
Mary had lost her direction.
That didn't excuse her actions.
But it was an important part of understanding why a young woman who once had so much ambition was now struggling to manage ordinary responsibilities.
At fifty-one, I've become less impressed by parents who insist that they're always right and more impressed by parents who can establish firm boundaries while remaining willing to examine their own decisions.
There's no special wisdom in simply being the loudest or most authoritative person in the room.
The real challenge is knowing when to be firm, when to listen, and when to admit that the first solution you've imagined might not be the best one.
Mary needed accountability, not endless rescue. But she also needed guidance, not simply a family verdict.
And the Camdens needed to remember that the goal wasn't to win an argument with their daughter.
It was to help her become an independent, responsible adult who could eventually make good decisions without them.
That's what I think this episode ultimately asks us to consider.
Sometimes love requires saying no.
Sometimes it requires allowing someone to face consequences.
And sometimes it means offering the very help that a frightened, defensive person doesn't yet know how to request.
But being a mensch also means remembering that correction should preserve dignity.
You can refuse to enable someone without abandoning her.
You can hold someone responsible without humiliating her.
And you can love your adult child without assuming that love gives you the right to control every decision she makes.
For me, that's the most important lesson of Mary's departure from 7th Heaven.
The purpose of tough love shouldn't be to prove who's in charge. It should be to help someone become capable of taking charge of her own life.
And if we lose sight of that, we may win the confrontation while missing the entire point.
