Rabbi Mendy Herson's Blog

Once I’ve made a mistake, can it ever be retroactively un-done?

Sure, we can make amends and learn for the future.

But can I ever un-speak hurtful words?

Not in the concrete sense.

But there’s more to life than the concrete.

Regret is a multi-level experience.

Sometimes, we rue our behavior because we don’t like the fallout. When you’ve hurt someone important, and the relationship has become uncomfortable, you say you're sorry.

Why? Because you want the pain to go away.

That's regret; but it's not transformative remorse.

It's ‘relationship management’.

Why? Because you haven’t experienced genuine character change.

You’re uncomfortable with the REACTION, not the action itself; you’re modifying your behavior based on someone else's response, not your own principles.

Real change doesn't happen that way.

Even when it's inspired by something external, real transformation needs to spring from within.

Transformative regret needs to be holistic.

I believe that G-d created me with the capacity to be a true mentsch, with character and integrity.

I have to envision that potential as my gold standard.

Every day, I need to measure my behavior against that potential.

Because I want to do better.

Not because of you.

Because of me.

Because of my destiny.

I care about others’ hurt feelings. And I need to deal with them. But my rehabilitation starts with me.

Your displeasure is helpful; it alerts me to a possible character-misalignment. When I’ve searched and recalibrated myself in a serious way, you’ll know.

Because I’ll express it.

In a genuine way.

Because it flows from me.

In the scope of my life, I can transform this mistake into a shining moment of growth and self-improvement.

No, I can’t control people’s memories; I may never be able to undo the past in their minds.

But in my life, between me and G-d, if I’m using my mistakes as powerful springboards for positive change, then I’ve done the impossible.

I’ve reached back in time and transformed a negative event into a positive force for growth.

That’s the way I see it.

I can only pray that you’ll see it this way too.

 

The great Rabbi's meditation was interrupted by his grandson's mournful cry.
"What happened?' he asked the child.
"My friends and I had started to play hide and seek; so I was well in hiding. But then they just ended up playing something else and no one came looking for me!"
As the Rabbi calmed his humiliated grandson, he murmured "Now we know how G-d feels".
G-d is hidden; Divinity is concealed. And we are born to search.
We don't live in a world that shouts Holiness and morality.
When I wake up in the morning, my instinct isn't "Wow! G-d constantly gives me life and has given me another day. I matter; I have a purpose in this world, and I need to use the gift of another day to live my destiny!"
Nope.
As I open my eyes, my day's responsibilities strike me first.
Then I begin to work on my consciousness.
I start to train my mind and frame my day. I pro-actively guide my mindset toward seeing the world for its meaning. I want to see the world for its purpose and beauty; to see the light in my surroundings.
In other words: I begin to seek G-d's presence in the world.
So I work on my mind and heart; it's my morning psycho-spiritual workout.
We call it prayer; and it's a process of discovery.
First, I need to still my mind. I need to disengage from my 'outer world', and its distracting static, before I enter my inner dimension.
It isn't easy.
Then, the liturgy guides me – through 'prayer therapy' - to important point; I can feel an appreciation, a deep need, for Oneness (symmetry, purpose, wholeness) in my life.
And I call out 'Shema Yisrael (Judaism's ancient proclamation of G-d as the Oneness of life)!'
In my little world, I've found Him. And myself.
So we're both elated.
 In Jewish spirituality, we call the Shema the daily call of the Shofar, because the piercing blasts evoke and articulate our deep-seated need for meaning.
As we approach Rosh Hashana, try to say the Shema and hear the Shofar every day.
We need it.
 And we don't want G-d to cry.