by Ner Tamid | Jun 23, 2024 | Sermons
For all those in denial, the AI revolution is here. This past week, stock for Nvidia, the company that produces chips for AI, surpassed the value of all other companies. If you own stocks in Nvidia, I hope you enjoy them. At least until AI overruns the world.
For over a year, people have been suggesting that I have AI write my weekly sermon. A number of rabbis did this; they got up and gave a sermon, and then at the end of the sermon, they told their congregation, “Guess what? That sermon was written by AI.”
Now I would fire such a rabbi. Not because they’re lazy. But because if your sermons are such that AI can write one for you and no one could tell the difference, that’s a problem.
Let me share with you what I mean. I prompted AI to write in the style of Yisrael Motzen and this is what I got.
And I quote: “In [parsha name], we encounter the narrative of [briefly summarize key events or themes of the parsha]. This pivotal moment in our history holds within it a tapestry of lessons, weaving together faith, obedience, and the enduring covenant between the Almighty and His chosen people.”
I do not use any of those terms. And I’d be asleep by the time I got to the third sentence.
But it gets better. AI continues:
“One of the central themes that Rabbi Yisrael Motzen, of blessed memory, (!!!) often illuminated for us is the concept of [insert theme, e.g., faith, compassion, gratitude].”
You see, they really are trying to kill us off!
Truth be told, I am sure there will be a day when Chat GPT will write an excellent drasha and will take over a wide range of jobs currently held by humans. But I think – and I could be wrong – there is one thing that Artificial Intelligence will not be able to do, and that is feel embarrassed, vulnerable, or ashamed. After I had Chat GPT write me a sermon, I asked it to tell me Chat GPT’s flaws. Within seconds it listed ten flaws. Things like limited understanding, potential for bias, lack of contextual reasoning. These are real flaws. Imagine if I were to ask you to list ten of your flaws. “Well, sometimes I am too nice to my spouse.” Sometimes, I get too involved my work.”
Us humans have defense mechanisms that prevent us from focusing on all of our flaws. Those are important defense mechanisms. Imagine we would be walking all day cognizant of all the areas we fall short in; it would be overwhelming. And so, G-d gave us these great mental tools that blind us to some of our flaws, or at the least, helps us not think about them all the time. In doing so, it allows us to move forward.
Untiiiil, someone comes along and bursts those bubbles, and they criticize us. And then one of two things happen, we become defenseless little puppies crying on the floor until we are soothed by our critic, or, we pull out four hundred samurai knives and started slashing away at our critic.
Moshe, in our parsha, takes the first approach. The Jewish People complain, and they complain a lot – about the mann, about the many restrictions of the Torah, and Moshe understands, though they don’t say it explicitly, they’re actually criticizing him. Moshe crumbles; “Forget it. I’m out.” And he tries to exit the stage until G-d brings him back in.
Criticism is not a bad thing per se. On the contrary, it’s in that push and pull between being honest about your friend or spouse and looking the other way, between being defensive and being vulnerable, it’s in that in between space that we navigate the contours of human relationships. That push and pull, that dance, is something AI cannot do.
The question is how we criticize. Can it be done in a way that enhances and deepens a relationship instead of destroying one. Too much criticism or too much harshness in our criticism and the only friend we’ll be left with is Chat GPT.
And so, to kvetch is human, but how we kvetch will make or break the relationships we have. So allow me to share with you two lessons from this week’s parsha on how to kvetch like a mentch.
#1 – The term the Torah uses to describe the Jews who complain is very telling. It does not say the Jews complained. Rather, it describes the Jews as kvetchers, as complainers vayehi ha’am k’mis’on’nim. That was their identity. There’s an old joke of a waiter in a Kosher restaurant who goes from table to table asking the guests, “Is anything okay?”
We often don’t realize how kvetchy we are. In one study, parents were asked how often they criticize their children. 77.3% said they rarely criticize their children. Then the researchers observed their interactions with their children and what they found is that within a span of 15 minutes, the average parents shared 3 praise statements and 8 critical statements.
So check yourself. Are you a complainer? Are you a kvetch? We often don’t realize how critical we are.
Relationship experts suggest ensuring that there should be a 3:1 ratio. 3 positive comments to our loved ones for every one negative comment. It’s also okay to be generous. No one was ever hurt by 4 or 5 positive comments.
So rule #1 – Kvetch away, but don’t be a kvetch.
Rule #2 – The Ramban observes that when the Torah describes them as complainers, it throws in an extra word; They were “like complainers; k’mis’onenim.” Now the Torah is not a teenager; it would not say, like, for no reason. Why are they “like” complainers?
The Ramban explains that the truth is the Jewish People were in a lot of pain; they had been traveling for a long time in the Sinai desert. If you think it was hard to get to shul, imagine how these people left without central air! They didn’t have a gala kiddush waiting for them; food was limited. They were truly suffering.
But if that is the case, it begs the question, why then was G-d mad at them for complaining? Why do they get punished?
There’s a story told of a chassid who had a very difficult life. This chassid came to his Rebbe for advice. The rebbe said, I can’t help you, but go to Rav Zusha, he can help you. So the Chassid travels to Rav Zusha to ask him for advice. He comes to the address he was given; it’s a dilapidated shack in the worst possible neighborhood. He knocks on the door and Rav Zusha answers the door, dressed in rags. He looks behind him there is no furniture. Nothing.
The chassid tells Rav Zusha why he’s there. “My rebbe sent me to you because I am going through a really hard time and I want to know how to have a positive attitude.”
Rav Zusha gives the man a hug. “I am so sorry that you are going through a hard time. But I don’t know why your Rebbe sent you to me. I have never really gone through any hardships in my life. I have everything I ever needed.”
Rav Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, another Chassidic Rebbe, was also known for his positive attitude. In his commentary on the Torah, the Kedushas Levi, he explains that the reason we put our heads down when saying Tachanun, the prayer that pleads from G-d to save us from all our hardships, is because if we would not put our head down and instead, we would see the whole world around us, we wouldn’t be able to beg Hashem for mercy. We’d be so overwhelmed by all the goodness in the world.
And so the Ramban explains that yes, the Jewish People were going through hardships, but how could they have been so blind to all the good that they were also receiving?! Sometimes it’s not about addressing the issue, it’s about seeing a bigger picture, it’s about realizing how much good there is. Whether that’s in our relationships with G-d – acknowledging all the incredible good that He gives us and allowing that to overwhelm the bad. Or in our relationships with our loved ones, stepping back and appreciating all that they do for us or simply being grateful for having them in our lives.
Kvetching is not only what makes us Jewish; it’s what makes us human. It’s in the delicate give and take of giving and receiving criticism that relationships are formed. But can we remember to criticize and not be a critic, to balance 3 or 4 positive statements for every redirect? And can we learn from Rav Zusha and Rav Levi Yitzchak to not bury our head in our hands? We sometimes go through difficulties and it could feel overwhelming. But can we look up? Can we look around – at the world around us, at the people around us? There is so much to be grateful for.
This message has been brought to you by Chat GPT.
by Ner Tamid | Jun 14, 2024 | Sermons
The timing could not be worse; the 250th day of captivity, the 249th of war, over 100,000 people are displaced due to rocket fire in the north, tens of thousands are in reserves, leaving their jobs and families in the lurch, international pressure continues to intensify, and locally, though the colleges are on break, the antisemites have taken to protesting outside of the most non-political exhibition possible – the Nova festival exhibit in New York – all in the name of “anti-Zionism.”
At this precarious time, with so many external threats, the Israeli government looks like it is about to implode, leading to yet another election. The main reason behind the departure of Benny Gantz is what he describes as the lack of a plan for the future of Gaza. But the catalyst for him to leave, and the catalyst for Gallant, a coalition member of Netanyahu, who is now likely to leave as well, is the Charedi Draft Law.
Since the establishment of the State of Israel, men who dedicate their life to Torah study have been exempted from army service. Of course, back when Ben Gurion came to this agreement with the Chazon Ish, the Charedi community was a tiny fraction of its size. For much of the history of the State of Israel, having hundreds of thousands of Charedi soldiers would actually be a burden to the government. But today, with the Charedi community numbering at almost one and half million, today, with a war in the south and an almost inevitable war in the north, a lack of manpower is actually a very big deal.
What does our tradition have to say about Torah study and warfare? How do we balance the two? Physically protecting ourselves on the one hand and spiritually protecting ourselves on the other?
The very first person and the first generation who are instructed to study Torah day and night are none other than the first Jewish army and their general. Joshua, or Yehoshua, the leader and general of the first Jewish army, is instructed, “V’higisa bo yomam valaylah, you should immerse yourself in the Torah every day and every night.”
You would think that it would be Moshe, the first teacher of the Jewish People, the man who brings the Torah down to earth, who is instructed to study Torah day and night, but no, it is the warriors, the generals, the lieutenants, the privates, that are told to somehow find the time to ceaselessly study Torah. This is not a coincidence. War can be blinding; we can so easily lose ourselves in the desire for revenge. And so, it is specifically those who face the greatest risk of losing sight of their values that G-d instructs to engage in His Torah.
There is a practice among soldiers of the IDF to write a letter to their family in case they do not come home. It’s an opportunity to share with one’s family, of course, but it serves a second purpose, very much aligned with what we just said. It gives the soldiers an opportunity to clarify for themselves why they are going into battle.
Allow me to read a note written by Yaron Eliezer, a 23-year-old Givati soldier from Ranana, to his family.
“To my precious and beloved family, who is supposed to teach children of [just] 23 years old to write letters like this?
What a unique country we live in! I feel privileged to take part in the protection of this country. I feel like I am a part of the history being written here.
Thank you for educating me to sanctify G-d’s name, to do kindness, to love the land.
All of this is in your merit and for you!
I love you so much. Am Yisrael Chai!”
Yaron was killed in battle on December 27th.
This young man, who barely started his life, knew what he was fighting for. Throughout so much of our history, when our enemies attacked, we hid our Jewish identity. But Yaron and so many like him, are not running from their Jewish identity, they are embracing it. Through his Torah education he knew what the land of Israel represents. Through his Torah education he lived for values greater than himself, willing to give his life to the Jewish People and to G-d.
We have a lot to learn from them. We may not be gearing up for battle, but we are all under assault, and it’s so easy to lose sight of anything beyond survival. It’s so easy to just make this a fight between those who want to kill us and our mere survival. But it’s more than survival. V’higisa bo yomam valaylah, the commandment to learn Torah was given in the midst of a battle for our existence. Like Yaron, we need to engage with our history, we need to deepen our connection to our tradition, in the midst of war, a war which we are all waging, we need Torah study today more than ever.
In the fifth chapter of the Book of Yehoshua, we find Yehoshua walking by himself at night, and he is confronted by an angel. The angel has his sword drawn, indicating to Yehoshua that something is wrong. The Talmud’s interpretation of this interaction (Megilah, 3a) is that the angel was conveying to Yehoshua G-d’s displeasure with the soldiers being asleep. Now the reason they were asleep was because the next day they were going into battle. But nonetheless, the angel told him, they should have been spending the night… you guessed it, studying Torah. It is not enough to write a note to one’s family clarifying our purpose. It’s not enough to have a Torah class. The Biblical model of balancing Torah study and warfare is to not balance it at all. The soldiers of the original IDF were expected to not sleep, but to study, and to somehow find the strength to then wage war.
Now obviously this is not a very practical model. We cannot, in 2024, have an army that does not sleep. The precision, the alertness, the training needed to run missions like the one they ran this past Shabbos, sleeplessness is not an option. And so, the State of Israel is faced with a dilemma; we need soldiers fighting our wars, and we also need students studying our Torah. We need generals and we need Torah giants. We cannot rely on miracles, and we cannot rely on our own strength either.
I was discussing this dilemma with my father. My father’s father fought in the War of Independence. My father served in the IDF, and his brother fought in the IDF and was killed in battle. Needless to say, he has strong opinions about this topic. But you know what he told me? He said, “Sruli, this doesn’t impact you in any way. You’re not voting, your children are not being drafted. No one in Israel cares about your opinion. It’s not relevant to you.” And he’s right. But let me tell you what is relevant to each of us. In Israel they have to choose between these two incredibly important values. In Israel they have to pick one over the other. But we, though we are undoubtedly busy, are also not running secret ops in middle of Rafah. We are not fighting at the border of Lebanon. We are not waging war and so we only have one option available to us. What’s our excuse to not immerse ourselves in Torah study?
Our brothers and sisters in Israel, they need us.
***
Gilad Nechemia Nitzan, 21, from Shiloh, wrote the following message before he went into his final battle:
“Thank you, G-d, for the path you sent me on.
I will not stop at this point; I will continue forward with all my strength!
The ultimate purpose is to be a true servant of G-d. And it is a very long and increasingly difficult path that gets progressively harder. But I have power and faith to persevere and advance in my personal growth in order to make a good impact and to lift people up. And at the end we will be successful.”
Gilad and his friends are giving it and gave it their all; we need to do the same.
Shavuot is a time that we celebrate the giving of the Torah. It has been a complicated relationship from day one. The Talmud wryly observes the connection between the name Sinai and Sinah – hatred. From the day we became a nation, we have been hated.
But in addition to the hate, we are living in an incredible time in history. Today, this ancient hate is not causing us to flee, it is causing us to double down. Like Yaron, like Gilad, like so many young men and women who went into battle with their heads up high. We are holding our heads high because we stand for something. Many of you, over the past weeks studied chapters of Tanach, of our Torah, in memory of a soldier, Michael Eliyahu, a proud policeman who knew exactly what he was fighting for. We deepened our connection to the stories of our past, to the prophecies that describe not just the future, but the present; we deepened our connection to our values. This is exactly how a Jew wages war.
***
I imagine a scene up in Heaven where our loved ones are greeting these holy soldiers, lining up to shake their hands, to say thank you. And these holy soldiers do what every self-respecting Jew does, they play Jewish geography. And these soldiers say, “I know you!”
Me? How do you know me?
“Your child, your spouse, your parent, they are learning Torah for me. They were partnering with me when I went into battle.” “They are learning in my memory because I cannot learn anymore.”
***
May we not be intimated by our enemies and may we hold our head up high. May we not lose sight of our purpose and may we continue to engage in G-d’s Torah. Let the Israelis argue over who should enlist in the IDF and who should learn Torah. But in America, there is no question. May we do our part in waging this war, and in that merit, may all of our brothers and sisters come home in safety.
by Ner Tamid | Jun 9, 2024 | Sermons
Does the date February 16, 2018, mean anything to any of you?
If you are a Jandorf, it should.
That is the Bat Mitzvah date of Ian’s older sister, Shana. On that date, and it took me a while to find this, I spoke about the Torah lessons we can learn from Harry Potter. Now I learned this past week that not only is Shana a fan of Harry Potter (or was a fan of Harry Potter), but so is Ian. So today, I’d like to pick up where I left off. But instead of telling you how Harry Potter can teach us Torah lessons, I’d like to focus on how Harry Potter is dissimilar to the Torah.
If you are a relative of the Jandorf’s and this is only the second time you have been to Ner Tamid, I do want to clarify, we discuss things other than Harry Potter in this shul.
The connections between Harry Potter and Judaism are easy. The premise of the book is that there is a regular world and a world of magic. In Judaism, we won’t call our world magical, but we believe in two dimensions, a regular world and a spiritual world.
In Book Seven, Harry is resurrected. Contrary to popular belief, resurrection is a distinctively Jewish idea. (I am sure there is someone here who is mad at me for just killing the ending of Book Seven for them. Guess what? We have passed the statute of limitations on needing to give spoiler alerts on Harry Potter. That’s like not spoiling the story of the Exodus. Yes, the Jews go free. And yes, Harry dies and comes back to life.)
More comparisons – Harry wears glasses. Most Jews I know wear glasses…
As I was saying, the comparisons are easy. So today, I’d like to focus on one very important distinction.
The first day a student arrives at Hogwarts (Hogwarts is the boarding school for kids with magical inclinations), the kids all assemble in the great hall and go through what is known as the sorting ceremony. There is a hat at the sorting ceremony that each child places on his or her head and it announces which one of the four houses the student is assigned to. Their assignment is based on abilities, personality, and preferences. Each house has a unique flavor to it, and this hat ensures that each student lands in a house that fits their persona. There is Gryffindor where they value courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry. Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty. Ravenclaw values intelligence, learning, wisdom and wit. And lastly, Slytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness.
Judaism also has houses, or more accurately, tribes. But it’s really the same idea. Each tribe has unique characteristics. The tribe of Levi is known for its zealousness. The tribe of Yehuda for leadership skills. The tribe of Yissachar for being wholly devoted to Torah study.
On the one hand there are twelve tribes so that means there is more variety than the four houses. But – and here is the crucial difference – there is no choosing hat. You are born into your tribe. Irrespective of your unique skill sets, you are a Levi, a Yehudite, a Yissachar, for life. You may be the most charismatic, brave, wise, leader, but if you were born into the family of Zevulun, you will never be a king. You may be the most devout and dedicated Jew, but if you were not born to the tribe of Levi, you will never serve in the Temple. You are stuck.
So let me ask you a question – if you had to pick between a Harry Potter reality, where you get to put on a hat, and it analyzes exactly who you are, and sends you to an appropriate ‘tribe,’ or a system where your tribe is assigned to you at birth, which one would you choose?
It’s a good thing none of us are in charge. G-d knew what He was doing. He doesn’t need my endorsement but let me share with you three reasons why being born into a particular tribe and being “stuck” in that tribe is one of the greatest blessings, and important ideas, especially in this day and age.
1.Contrary to our belief system, our personal identity is moored, connected, anchored, within our family of origin, where we come from. When we think of who we are, it is not just the choices we made in life; it’s the world, the people, the culture that we were born into, that makes us who we are.
Bruce Feiler, in his best-selling book, The Secret to Happy Families, shares research that indicates the stronger the bond to the past – the more we feel rooted within our family, whether we like them or not is irrelevant, but the more we feel a sense of our family being a part of who we are, the more confident, the more capable, the more successful we will be in life.
When G-d ‘imposed’ an identity on us, He was giving us the greatest gift possible – a sense of self, a sense of identity, that is rooted in something concrete. Even when I don’t know who I am, I know where I come from, and that gives me stability.
- Being stuck or limited, in general, is actually one of the greatest gifts possible. We sometimes tell young people that their options are endless. It’s a lie. And it’s a damaging lie. Our limitations, the tension in our life help us grow like nothing else.
You know when I start writing my sermons? Friday morning. You know why? Because if I would start on Tuesday or even Thursday, I would have too much time, and I wouldn’t be motivated to get the job done.
Martin Luther King Jr., in his letter from the Birmingham jail, wrote powerfully in defense of ‘tension.’ He was speaking about racism, and how some people avoid hard truths, who prefer to avoid tension. And he laments how much is lost when we don’t bring the tension out and address it. It’s not limited to racism; it’s true about everything. Tension is the secret sauce to romance. A world without tension is a world without personal growth and social change.
I’ve shared the story in the past of one of my young daughters who used to always steal my printing paper to color on. I would go to print my sermon before Shabbos, and there’d be no paper. So I bought her a coloring book, filled with unicorns and princesses, all the stuff she loved. When I showed her the coloring book, she started crying. “I don’t want to draw their picture. I want to draw my picture.” She didn’t want friction, tension, limitations, she wanted to be free and unencumbered by anything at all.
But two days later, I found her drawing in that coloring book with a big smile on her face. I asked her to explain herself. She told me that she realized that although she could not pick the pictures, she could pick the colors, and the pictures in the coloring book with her colors, are actually pretty nice, maybe even nicer than her drawings.
So yes, I did not choose to be a Jew. I did not choose which tribe I am a part of. I did not choose many things in my life. And that’s not just okay, it’s great. The limitations create a framework, they create tension, between my past and my future, between my autonomy and G-d’s commandments, and in between those lines, I could create something magnificent. Something I would not have created had I been left without being boxed in.
When G-d commands the Jewish People to be counted in this week’s parsha, and tells them, “You need to be counted in context of your family and of your tribe,” G-d is giving us two of the greatest gifts; a sense of self that goes deeper than my wishes and whims, and a framework, what some may even call limitations, so that within them we can draw the most beautiful pictures.
And now let me share with you the final reason why our tribe is assigned to us at birth. This reason is most relevant to you, Ian:
There is a story told of Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter, a great Chassidic Rebbe, otherwise known as the Sefas Emes. His parents died at a young age and he was adopted by his grandfather. When his grandfather died, the Chassidim, the students, turned to Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter, and asked him to take over this Chassidic group, to be their rabbi. He said no. “I am way too young.” He was 18 at the time.
Two years later, the question came up again, and this time he said, yes. So one of the chassidim not-so-respectfully asked him. “Uh, is there really such a big difference between 18 and 20? You’re still pretty young, rabbi?!”
Rabbi Yehuda Leib Alter replied, “You’re right, I am young. I’m just as unqualified as I was two years ago. But I realized something. I used to think that to be a great person, I had to climb a spiritual mountain. And that’s something I still haven’t done. But what I recently learned is that I don’t have to climb the spiritual mountain. I was born on a spiritual mountain. I have my father and mother’s legacy to guide me. I have my grandfather’s teachings to inspire me. I am not starting from the ground level. I was born on a mountain.”
Ian, you were born on a mountain, a very high mountain. I am not going to talk about your parents today. I checked, I spoke about them on February 16th, 2018… Your parents are amazing people, conscientious, honest, and deeply committed to the Jewish People and our shul. You have wonderful grandparents, Joyce, Ross, Beverly, Betty, and Yisrael, who are all very proud of you. But who I want to highlight today is your great-grandfather, your namesake – Reverend Morris Klavan.
When Morris Klavan was in Duke college for engineering, he was told he had to take an exam on Shabbos. He refused. He switched majors and became an educator. I am sure that decision was not an easy one, certainly in that day and age. But I am also confident that he grew tremendously from the difficulty of making that decision. Tension is what brings out our greatness. It’s not lost on any of us how you go to a school where your observance may be different than some of your friends. But that has not made you weaker in your connection to Judaism, I have watched over the years as it has only made you stronger and more passionate about your Judaism.
This Bar Mitzvah ‘hat’ with the words, Ha’eish sheli, my spiritual fire – is not like the choosing hat. So many of your qualities you inherited from your great-grandfather and those who came before you.
It’s a coincidence that your great-grandfather ended up being exceptionally dedicated to Judaism. As but one example – he read the Torah in this shul for 35 years! He’d be very proud of your reading the Torah here today.
So, Ian, Harry Potter is great, but the Torah is even better. We are bound to our people, to our tribe, and to our family, and that is a gift. There is inspiration and life lessons to learn from those who built the mountain you are born on. There are great qualities that you inherited from your parents like soccer skills, excellence in math, thoughtfulness for others – we know where that comes from. But there is a tension between where you come from and who you want to be. That tension is the greatest gift of all.
Rooted in your family story, inspired by the high mountain you were born onto, and limited by the picture that G-d gave to you, I am sure you will create a most beautiful picture of your own.
by Ner Tamid | Jun 2, 2024 | Sermons
No, I will not be talking about the court case.
I will not be talking about him.
The reason I won’t be talking about the court case or him is because nothing I say, no matter which direction I go, will change your mind about anything you currently believe.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I do want to talk about. How hard it is to change our mind; how hard it is to change. Not how difficult it is to change our political views. Frankly, they are not that important. But how difficult it is to change ourselves.
I was recently going through some old stuff. I have two small boxes of letters, pictures, and notes from when I was in high school. I found a song I wrote in 12th grade. It was all about trying to figure out who I am. It has the most angsty,
dramatic,
over-the-top lyrics.
In other words, it perfectly captures what it was like to be a teenager. You want to hear the song? Yes, of course you do. Imagine me with a lot more hair, a little split – those were cool back in the day, I promise, and a cheap acoustic guitar with a bunch of political stickers I did not understand. You ready?
I am not really going to sing it. But I will share with you the lyrics:
“I know where I belong, I know where I should be.
Reflection in the mirror, I wonder if it’s me.
All the things that I’ve said, the truth is so clear.
But every now and then the truth just disappears.”
Let’s skip to the chorus:
“Cause I’m torn within my soul. Searching for identity; who I am, who am I.
I’m torn within my soul, feels like I’m living in a lie.”
Can your 18-year-old self relate to those words?
Teenage-hood, young adulthood, are times when we explore who we are, how we are connected and not connected to our family, when we try to figure out what we want to accomplish in this life of ours; “who I am, who am I.” More than that, at that stage in life, we are especially attuned to the raging contradictions that reside in our psyche; “I am torn within my soul.” It’s an age when we are especially attuned to inauthenticity and contradictions around us, but also, perhaps most especially, the inauthenticity and contradictions within ourselves. It’s a time of radical honesty. And that biting honesty propels us to make difficult decisions and significant change.
And then we become adults. And it all stops.
The angstiness gives way to complacency. The exploration of self gives way to the rat-race of our careers. The pie-in-the-sky dreams give way to retirement calculations. We no longer question who we are. We no longer feel like we are living in a lie. We no longer feel torn. We no longer feel our soul.
But the truth is that our soul, our Neshama, is just as angsty as it was when we were teenagers. Maybe even more so. In adulthood, our souls and subconscious are far more aware of our mortality, of the fact that there is a countdown to our existence, and that’s scary, and that thought should propel us to make many significant changes to our lives. But despite the extra angst, the extra urgency, the extra sophistication on how to affect long-lasting change, our souls’ tornness is drowned out by the busyness of life. Who has time to think about such things? I have a job. I have a family. I have a life. Who knows where these thoughts will take me? I can’t afford to make any big changes at this stage in the game. And so, we drown out our soul with our job, with our family, with the real-life stressors that surround us. And we don’t change. Not only do we not change our political views. Far, far, far more importantly, we do not change ourselves.
This morning, we read something known as the tochacha, a long string of curses that will befall the Jewish People when they do not obey G-d’s commandments. Out of all the sins, the Torah highlights one sin as the primary cause of all these terrible calamities – Shmittah, the Sabbatical year. Every seven years, the Jewish People are expected to take a year off. Why is this Mitzvah singled out as the biggest sin? Are there not so many sins that are far worse?
Rav Kook explains that taking a Sabbatical year is critical to our spiritual growth. Our soul, he explains, is constantly yearning, trying to draw us towards a more elevated life, but the rat-race, the busyness of life, drowns out her voice. We can’t hear her and her dreams and aspirations because the volume of life is just so loud. So once every seven years, we turn down the volume, we slow down the pace, and we listen. We listen to our soul as she reminds what we’re capable of, what we really want deep down inside, of what’s important for us to accomplish in this very short life.
So ladies and gentlemen, it’s been more than seven years since I joined the shul, I will be taking the upcoming year off…
I am kidding. Most of us cannot afford to take a year off for self-exploration. But we can afford to take a few days, maybe even a few hours. To give our soul a little time to breathe, to make her heard, and maybe we could even listen to her and make some changes.
As you know, I spent a few days in Israel two weeks ago. It was an exceptionally meaningful trip, but possibly the most meaningful part of the trip took place on the one afternoon we had off. I had a little bit of time and instead of taking a taxi back to my apartment, I walked. I had a good solid hour of walking. I wasn’t on the phone. I wasn’t listening to any podcasts or music. Silence. Me and myself. Me and my soul. That teenager who I forgot about, you know, the one with the cool hair and all that angstiness, I got back in touch with him.
We just finished Sefer Vayikra. Maybe you noticed when they did Hagbah and lifted the Torah, there was a large empty space between the book of Vayikra and the book of Bamidra. If that empty space was missing, the Torah would be invalid. Taking a break, sitting in silence, creating some mental space is critical to our spiritual growth.
I imagine many of you will be going on vacation over the next few months. Maybe you have a slightly slower schedule. Can we take a few moments during the summer ahead and ask ourselves some real questions; Are there relationships in my life that I need to repair? Are there characteristics I need to work on? Am I happy with what I have accomplished thus far? If not, what do I really want to do?
Who will be the next president of the United States is an important question that’s worth thinking reflecting on. But if you have a few minutes, a few minutes of quiet, it’s far more important to ask ourselves, ‘who I am, who am I.’
