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Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Thoughts from, and conversations with, Rabbi Herson

Doing Better

We all make mistakes. And sometimes others get hurt in the process.
When I step on someone's toe, I've caused someone discomfort – and metaphorically, that happens more than I wish. My response? I apologize.

It's a very common phenomenon: we cause pain to someone, defuse the situation by expressing regret, and continue down life's path.
But do we grow from the episode? Do we take the time to analyze why we were so careless as to step on someone's toe? Do we process and internalize the other’s pain so that we’re more sensitive to our surroundings next time? 
An obligatory or perfunctory apology is unlikely to cause internal change. It's only when we focus on a sincere apology intended to help heal the pain we have caused another rather than on a superficial apology offered to avoid the discomfort and embarrassment from being called-out for our transgression that growth can happen. 
When the Jews were in Egypt, Moses kept begging Pharaoh to "let my people go." When Pharaoh didn’t listen, G-d directed calamities to afflict Egypt to help ‘convince’ Pharaoh to let the Jews leave. 

Yet this week’s parshah, Parshat Va’era, tells us that G-d "hardened Pharaoh's heart" so that he obstinately refused.

Why? If G-d was trying to force Pharaoh's capitulation, why get in the way by hardening Pharaoh's heart?
G-d didn't obstruct genuine remorse on Pharaoh's part. He just didn't want Pharaoh to recant his ways in order to stop the pain; that would be an easy – but deceptive – way out.  G-d didn't allow for that, because G-d wants authentic self-reflection and genuine internal change. 

As the plagues became more severe, so too did Pharaoh’s motivation to offer insincere acquiescence.  So G-d hardened his heart to assure that Pharaoh, who never genuinely regretted his actions, didn’t feign regret just to stop the plagues.
The same principle applies to our own personal 'Egypts', our individual transgressions: superficial apologies are good for 'getting by'; but they often stand in the way of 'getting better'.

Breaking Free

There's something especially beautiful about reading the Torah as a personal roadmap.
From that angle, the Torah's narrative about our slavery in Egypt becomes a directly relevant story of our own personal struggles and successes.
This week’s Torah portion, Shemot, speaks of the enslavement of the Jews in Egypt. The Egyptian oppression was something of a double-edged sword. While it was a horrifying illustration of human cruelty, Torah wisdom also points out that this terrible experience was an important contribution to our maturation as a people. That we journeyed to Mount Sinai and received the Torah directly after the Egyptian slavery suggests a connection between the two experiences. Our slavery in Egypt followed a long period of complacency and assimilation. Could it be that what we learned from our difficult period in Egypt was an important precursor to receiving the Torah?
Let’s look at how the Egyptians mistreated us. They weren’t just looking for free labor, they were trying to crush our spirit. Scripture describes one method employed by the Egyptian slave masters as being: “crushing work.”

The Egyptians understood that people naturally develop behavioral patterns that become difficult and uncomfortable to overcome. So, the Egyptians devised a devilish plan to break the Hebrews' bodies and spirit: They didn't just burden the Jews with physical work; they chose labor that grated against their ingrained habits and self-image.

In the Talmud's words: "They gave women’s work to the men and men's work to the women." They didn’t want to simply assign difficult work that would only break the body. They wanted to disrupt the Jew’s self-image as well. They observed that in which the Jewish found comfort and gave them work that was psychologically uncomfortable for them.

Cruel.

At the same time, enduring that experience gave the Jews a hint of how to achieve their spiritual freedom.

Some of life’s greatest straitjackets are our own less-than-productive habits and patterns. They're so ingrained it's difficult to even notice them, which makes them especially insidious and difficult to change. That’s exactly why addressing them is such an important part of our own personal Mount Sinai experience. 

We can find the strength, self-awareness and fearless commitment to move toward our best selves. We can overcome our own deeply ingrained behavioral patterns and choose more productive,  enlightened behaviors with freedom and purpose. Breaking unproductive habits and patterns can be quite strenuous, but we are blessed to be able to do it in freedom, and there’s no other way to reach our personal Mount Sinai. And to assist in our journey, we have the greatest of roadmaps – the one given to us at THE Mount Sinai.

Let’s break free.

Life Is Good. And Can Be Even Better

We each have blessings in our lives.
At the same time, we often lose sight of our blessings and good fortune because life’s stress consumes so much of our internal radar. That’s why it’s so important to take some time every day to refocus our attention, and recognize the blessings we have. Prayer is one such opportunity.

Imagine that you’re praying: Withdrawing from your ‘regular’ mindset and urges, you turn introspective and take an aerial view of your life. You begin to perceive and appreciate your blessings. Feel blessed and supported, you feel empowered to effectively respond to your challenges.

From that rarefied ‘prayer perch’, your world makes sense; life actually looks pretty good. You are safe. And you can actually see how you grow through your struggles.
So why does our prayer liturgy - thrice daily – also guide us to yearn for Moshiach, for an era without pain, without moral dilemmas and without tests of faith?
If life is good, and rising above our struggles - maintaining soul-consciousness even as we’re engaged in a shallow world - is actually an exercise in character development, why should we be desperate for Moshiach?

G-d is the ultimate good, and G-d is in control of the world. That being the case, we have every reason to hope for – and to anticipate – a world of total connectedness and balance, a world that is pain-free and without tragedy. Feeling Oneness with the Divine and with each other shouldn’t be a struggle; it should be a given.
So while we should be happy with life, we should never be complacent. Our world CAN be better and we need to keep an eye on a better future. As long as there is pain, disunity and lack of higher consciousness in the world, we can’t rest on our laurels.
So every day, our prayers can guide us to appreciate our life, and also guide us to recognize that our world can be so much better, and that we can – and must - actually bring it to that better place.
Starting now.

What would YOU do?

 A teenager is kidnapped by his brothers and sold into slavery in a foreign land. Against all odds, the youth fortuitously finds his way to freedom, then scales his new home’s socio-political ladder, eventually becoming the second most powerful leader in the country.
Years later, facing a regional famine, his brothers travel abroad to buy supplies from a prominent political leader, who - unbeknownst to them - is the brother they once betrayed. A perfect opportunity for revenge.

He now has total power over his former oppressors. What does he do? What would you do?
The drive for revenge seems natural. When we are wronged, we have the urge to ‘get even’. Some deem it an act of honor to ‘avenge a wrong'.
The Torah perspective is much more nuanced.
Revenge, per se, is a desire to hurt someone in retaliation for a previously inflicted harm. Revenge isn’t about undoing damage that’s been done; it's about inflicting more pain, just at a different address. It may feel good at the moment, but there’s nothing constructive about it. So, the Torah actually forbids the act of revenge (Leviticus 19:18).
Justice, on the other hand has positive aims including rehabilitation, deterrence and moral cleansing. Justice also sometimes hurts; but hurting isn’t the objective.
So let's go back to the kidnapped boy, who is our ancestor Joseph. He had a great opportunity for revenge.

Growing Slow and Steady

Inspiring thoughts have a way of finding us from time to time. Every once in a while, maybe while driving down the highway, listening to music and allowing our mind to drift, our brain will flash a motivating thought. We’ll get a mental snapshot of who we can be, empowering thoughts about upgrading our behavior, and we'll resolve – for the moment - to live a more meaningful life.

In most cases, that inspiring ‘lightning bolt’ fades and disappears from view pretty quickly.

So, should we see those moments of conscience and focus as 'flashes in the pan'? Or can they yield substantive results, helping us toward a better future?

The answer is up to us. While the inspiration is a gift, actual change takes work. So, when we’re inspired, when the flame of personal transformation illuminates our minds, we need to take advantage of it and anchor it in action. We need to ask ourselves: what can I do – NOW - as a step, albeit a tiny one, toward that image in my mind?

The steps can be small, as long as we keep on moving. As the story of the tortoise and the hare illustrates, incremental, consistent steps are a more secure way to reach the destination of a ‘better me’ than sporadic leaps and bounds. So when that figurative 'light bulb' goes off in your head, resolve to act in a meaningful but manageable way, so that the momentum can be maintained.

When we choose a realistic goal and take a deliberate step toward that goal, we can celebrate a personal victory and continue forward by building on that victory.
The service of the Chanukah candles, in which we begin with a single candle and add a candle from night to night, teaches us that incremental growth is healthy growth.

Chanukah is an eight-day exercise with an eye on infusing inspiration for the rest of the year.

So what do we do after day eight, when Chanukah is over? Our conceptual Chanukah lights need to keep burning, even after the Menorah is packed away.
The miracle of the oil, where the Menorah continued to illuminate beyond its natural capacity, can be our personal story.

This year, let’s make it a year of light and inspiration. Let’s take Chanukah with us.

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