Our Jewish ideology teaches the truth that Hashem created us as “imperfect” human beings, with the charge of growing spiritually each and every day. Indeed, it is this opportunity for growth that reflects the beauty of our “imperfection” and that distinguishes us from malachim, angels.” Yet, ironically, we are guilty of absorbing the cultural value of “perfection,” and as a result we don’t readily accept the differences among us. This is true in so many aspects of our lives; yet it is the mistreatment of youngsters who don’t fit the mold, those who stray for one reason or other, or those who are born different, by no choice of their own, that captures my heart and continues to bring me to tears. A story is told of a student in the yeshiva of the Chofetz Chaim who was found smoking on Shabbos. He was incorrigible and could not be swayed to let go of this temptation. When his rebbeim finally gave up on him and brought their frustrations to the attention of the Chofetz Chaim, they were certain that the bachur would be immediately expelled from the yeshiva. Instead, the Chofetz Chaim insisted they bring the young man to him. After spending a good amount of time with this gadol, the rebellious bachur came out crying, “I have no more problems with following hilchos Shabbos”; in one session with the Chofetz Chaim, he was magically transformed, and remained so for the duration of his stay in yeshiva. Yeshiva. Unfortunately, no one thought to ask this youngster to share the gems that turned him around so quickly.
Many years later, a rabbi told this story to his congregation. In the discussion that ensued, the mechanchim among them expressed their frustration regarding the “missing pieces” that would certainly be of help to those involved in inspiring talmidim who were “off the derech.” Suddenly, an old man in the back of the shul cried out:“I was that boy!” Upon hearing this, the kehila beseeched him to share exactly what the Chofetz Chaim had said to him, expecting words of profound wisdom. Instead, they were overcome by the simplicity of the remedy, the secret to the Chofetz Chaim’s success. And this is the content of the story the old man told:
“When I went to the Chofetz Chaim, he took my hand and held it so warmly in both his hands, and then he looked into my eyes with love and compassion and started to cry: ‘Oy, Shabbos Kodesh.’ He repeated this over and over again with such compassion, warmth and love. He gave me a hug, continuing to look me in the eye, and then crying out, but not screaming, over and over again, with such feeling: ‘Oy, Shabbos Kodesh.’ He did this until his cries hit me at the core, going straight into my neshama. I continued to feel the electricity going through my body, and I knew there was no way I could continue doing an act that hurt him so much.
In Psych 101, many of us were introduced to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. In 1943, Dr. Abraham Maslow advanced the idea that if the basic human physical needs for food, shelter and clothing are not satisfied, this would impede mankind from progressing through the pattern of motivation that leads to the sublimation, self- actualization and self- transcendence. Simply put, without adequately satisfying one’s hunger or adequately keeping warm, one is not likely to sublimate one’s own needs to help others, or be able to elevate oneself in the higher realms of altruism or spirituality. Dr. Maslow later added the psychological needs for safety, love and belonging to this list. And current research also recognizes the primacy of feeling valued and appreciated by others despite one’s differences. Indeed, without the sense of physical and emotional safety, it is difficult to think of sacrificing one’s needs for the sake of God and mankind. And it is no surprise that our Torah, authored 2,000+ years before the Hierarchy of Needs was conceived by Dr. Maslow, contains a treasure trove of strategies in avoiding and moving the barriers to our self-actuation and transcendence to the higher realms of spirituality.
It is logical to expect that Sefer Bereishit and Shemot, in detailing the stories of the Creation and the progress in the destiny of man and our nation, would offer a treasure trove of life lessons that are relevant until this very day. Yet, it comes as a surprise for many that the last four parshiot in Shemot, and all of Sefer Vayikra, are also filled with lessons on how growing closer to Hashem via His Torah and mitzvot help us accomplish the above-mentioned lessons as well. In a shiur on Parshat Tetzave, Rabbi Shalom Rosner and Rabbi Efrem Goldberg both focuses on the lashon in the pasuk associated with the prohibition of lighting a fire on Shabbos, as it states: “Lo teva’ru aish b’chol moshvoteichem b’yom Shabbat, You should not light a fire in all of your homes on Shabbos.” In analyzing the lashon (language), they raise the question as to why lighting a fire is one among two mitzvot that fall into the realm of the negative, that which we are prohibited from doing, rather than the positive, those mitzvot we are mandated to perform on Shabbos. In responding to this question, Rabbi Goldberg references the homiletical interpretation of the Shelah HaKadosh, who shares the sentiment discussed in an earlier article. He argues that all of our midot (traits), with the exception of arrogance, can be channeled for the good or the ill. This even applies to anger, which can be sublimated to the positive—such as when one uses anger to fight social injustice and other ills of society. According to the Shelah HaKadosh, the word aish, fire, can also be viewed as a metaphor for anger and rage, channeled in the negative.
Finally, the wisdom of the Rebbe and our chasidic masters take this idea to another level. In a video by Mrs. Channah Weisberg, she speaks on a topic that is close to my heart, addressing our failure to fully include children with special needs within the yeshiva setting. I view this as another example of how we fail to see the beauty of imperfection, and in this way prevent the most kadosh members of our community from actuating the fullness of their potential. In detailing the materials used in constructing the Mishkan, she communicates the need for taking a second look at the manner in which we connect with students who pose challenges because we fail to accept them for who they are; this is particularly salient in the longtime failure our Jewish community has in fully including all Torah-abiding students with special needs within the yeshiva setting. This, I believe, is an egregious mistake—because in doing so we fail to appreciate and value each other despite our differences. In Parshat Vayakhel, Moshe lists the materials that were needed for the Mishkan. These included gold, silver and copper. Our chasidic masters teach us that each material represents a different persona; gold represents the complete tzadik, the righteous individual. Silver, kesef in Hebrew, which is also translated as “yearning,” represents the ba’al teshuva, the returnee to faith; and copper the represents the sinner. One may mistakenly believe that only a tzadik can make our world holy. Others may include the ba’al teshuva, who intimately knows sin or negativity yet chooses to transform it to loftiness. Still, the Torah includes the sinner as well. Why so? Viewed from this perspective, God’s home on earth is not complete without everyone’s contribution. No matter our spiritual standing, our intellectual or emotional abilities, we were hand-crafted by our Creator to make our world a home for Hashem and we can all gain from one another.
This, my friends, is the lesson gleaned from parshiot that we often thought bear no relevance to our lives. Let us remember that the quickest way to achieve hatzalat neshamot, the restoration of the souls that are lost to us, is to love, value and appreciate even those off the path—for their holy neshamot and their potential as Torah-abiding Jews. Let us also understand that the act of connecting with and accepting each other enhances our Jewish experience. In a similar fashion, let us apply the lesson of the various materials used in the Mishkan to help us understand that if Hashem welcomed the sinners into the assembly of Jews, how can those of us who should know better reject innocent children, who by God’s will were crafted in a different, but also beautiful, way!
Finally, as we prepare to enter the Yom Tov of Pesach, let us apply the lessons learned to enhance our understanding of the metaphoric value of all aspects of our Seder. This year, I will pay special attention to a deeper understanding I gained in a shiur by Rabbi Dr. Meir Soloveichik regarding the seeming misplacement of maror following Pesach and matzah in the order of the Seder. He explained that this reversal is intended to dispel the myth that maror is meant to bring us to tears. Just as all gourmet cooks know, adding a bitter ingredient to a sweet recipe enhances rather than detracts from the taste; so, too, does the placement of the maror at the end teach us that recalling the bitter experience of slavery in Mitzrayim adds an additional dimension to the joy we experience as a result of our freedom. Viewed through this lens, it is our differences, rather than our similarities, that enhances us as a whole. May the lesson of the bitter enhancing the sweet help us achieve the goal of Acheinu kol am Yisrael. In doing so, may we be worthy of realizing our dream of l’shana haba b’Yerushalayim this Pesach! Chag kasher v’sameach!
By Renee Nussbaum, PhD, PsyA
Renee Nussbaum is a practicing psychoanalyst with training in imago, and EFT. She also facilitates a chavruta in cyberspace on the weekly parsha, edited by Debbie Friedman. She can be reached at [email protected].
