Re’eh - The things we do unconsciously indicate who we really are
Deuteronomy 11:26 - 16:17 | Isaiah 54:11 - 55:5
Summary: We do the deep work at the obvious times (like during the 10 days of teshuva) so that, on some random day, something incredible will come out of us without even thinking about it.
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True story:
I was walking with my teacher and friend to the East Side Kosher Deli, and our route took us past a park. We could see a small group of men sitting together and talking under a tree. As we were walking by them, one of them jumped up and said, “Are you Rabbi So-and-So?” Rabbi So-and-So confirmed his identity. The person (who, by the way, was drunk and missing most of his teeth) said, “You saved my life!” Rabbi So-and-So, essentially unfazed, said something like, “Baruch Hashem!” The short and cryptic story emerged: this person had asked the rabbi, at some key moment, how he could possibly make it work with such-and-such a woman. The rabbi had said something like, “You can’t!” And that was that. Saved this guy’s precious life.
When we left their company, the rabbi unsurprisingly explained to me that he had no idea who the guy was, certainly didn’t know anything about the woman to whom he was referring, and had no recollection of the encounter. Those are the kind of story you never forget. They are the stuff of legend. Totally true. I was there and saw it with my own three eyes.
It got us (the rabbi and I, not the other guy) talking about what actually affects people. You try to do Things - you teach Classes, you hold Meetings and make Plans, and maybe you even write Books - and then it turns out the thing that saved someone’s life is a conversation you don’t remember, an off-hand comment, an afterthought.
It reminds me of a story in the talmud (AZ 18a). Rabbi Hanina ben Teradyon asked Rabbi Yosei b. Kismah, “What am I for the world to come?” It’s an intriguing question. Why didn’t he ask “Do I have a place there?” The second rabbi asked the first rabbi if he had done anything good that day. This is, of course, shocking. Rabbi Hanina has been defying the Romans and teaching Torah in public. But he doesn’t answer with that. He thinks about it and answers that he had accidentally mixed up some of his own money with tzedakkah money, so he gave it all to tzedakkah. Rabbi Yosei thought that was sufficient evidence that, yes, he does have a place in the World to Come.
The story amazes because the rabbi doesn’t mention all the amazing things he’s done. He only brings up this one unexpected event, and what makes it incredible is not just the level of carefulness involved, but the intuitiveness of it. It wasn’t something he had thought about and Planned. It wasn’t an Event that was conceived of by a Committee based upon Research and Data. It wasn’t a part of his daily Routine. It came out automatically as a response to a mistake. It was an instinct, an impulse, a proper response to an error. Thus it proves not only what the rabbi can do when he thinks about it, but what he is. “What am I for the World to Come?”
I cannot help but wonder what it takes to become the kind of person out of whom such spontaneous goodness will emerge. And I suspect it includes those Events that are Planned by Committees based upon Research and Data.
Consider the dramatic demonstration briefly described in this week’s Torah reading. When they cross into the land of Canaan, the Israelites will gather at the twin mountains of Grizim and Eival. Half the tribes will stand on one mountain, and half the tribes on the other, with the Levites in the middle. The Levites will call out declarations like “Cursed is one who makes an idol!” and everyone will respond “Amen!” And then the Levites will say something like “Cursed is one who accepts a bribe to kill an innocent person!” and everyone will respond “Amen!”
This is a major production, designed for maximum impact. I’m sure it made a deep impression and was not forgotten by anyone who had the good fortune to be in attendance. I imagine seeing this and being there would be literally unforgettable. Hopefully it would change the people who were there so that, when they walk away from the mountain, they are the kind of people who know what to say to that random guy when he asks.
We need these major moments in order to focus, and they change us. We have, for example, big, pre-planned times of year when we focus on something like teshuva (the incredible process of bringing our fullest selves back into contact with the Divine) or the destruction of the Temple cannot do all the work that must be done around those points of focus. Those times of year do a lot of heavy lifting. An example: the “high” holidays.
These days are designed for teshuva - in fact, they span the “ten days of teshuva.” It is a very focused time. Teshuva is everywhere. Yom Kippur is saturated with teshuva. Everyone is talking about it. People are calling someone they wronged nine months ago and asking for forgiveness. People are waking up before dawn to go to selichot. This is a time when we eat and drink teshuva, read about it, think about it, plan around it, look for it, expect it. It’s essential to how we change and grow.
But obviously, it’s not the end. It sets us up for that time in the middle of some random month that features no holidays, high or low or otherwise, when you find out that you had hurt someone, and you call and apologize, and you feel genuine regret and take it to heart and do some real introspection and cry a bit and became a new person.