After SImhat Torah, it seems as though we have just gotten off a really long, intense roller coaster ride. The season began on Rosh Hodesh Elul, when we were still in the midst of summer, and we started reciting Selihot. Then those of us who were away for the summer returned home, and we all prepared for Rosh Hashanah. It was quickly followed by Yom Kippur, and then we went right into Sukkot with a just a few days in between to get ready. And then, after Simhat Torah, it just ends.
The first thing we should probably do when this happens is pat ourselves on the back and feel proud – especially the women. On some years, when no holidays fall on Shabbat, there are 22 (!!!) Shabbat and holiday meals during this three-week period. Each meal is a project unto itself. Outside our world, in general American society, a family might have three such meals in an entire year. All the shopping, cooking, baking, setting up; the countless main dishes, side dishes and desserts served at every meal, and all the flowers, napkins, dishes, glasses and so on – it all takes an enormous amount of hard work. And this is not even counting the work that goes into making sure the children all have clothes and shoes for the holiday. Now, as it all comes to an end, all those who worked hard to make it happen deserve the right to congratulate themselves and feel proud over their accomplishment.
Looking ahead to the next few months, until the next holiday, many of us, no doubt, are breathing a sigh of relief. But at the same time, there is also an element of unhappiness felt by many. We just ended an exciting period, which started with the onset of summer, when many of us travel, spend fun time outdoors and enjoy ourselves, and we then went through the busy, hectic, but action-packed holiday season when there’s so much going on. Now, the weather’s becoming chilly, we’re getting ready for the cold and dreariness of winter, and we face months of our regular routine, which some of us might find monotonous. Coming on the heels of such an exciting few months, the view of what lies ahead strikes us as dull and tedious.
However, with the proper perspective, we can transform this feeling of monotony into genuine excitement and enthusiasm. If we probe deeper into the unique opportunity with which the upcoming months present us, we can look forward to them with eager anticipation.
The Sin of the Forbidden Tree
We begin this period by beginning anew the annual Torah reading cycle, with the reading of Parashat Bereishit, which tells of the creation of the world and the history of the first generations of human beings. This includes, of course, the famous story of Adam and Havah’s sin, their partaking of the fruit of the forbidden tree.
It is clear from the story that eating the fruit brought some kind of fundamental transformation in Adam and Havah. Suddenly, the Torah relates, “their eyes were opened,” and for the first time they understood that they needed to wear clothing. What exactly happened? What kind of change was brought about by this sin?
Our Sages tell us that before the sin, Adam and Havah were perfect creatures. They were entirely spiritual, without the needs, desires, temptations and vices that we struggle with each and every day. They were like angels. The Midrash says that Adam was able to see “from one end of the world to the other,” likely referring to the perfect quality of his understanding and perception. We are confused and lured by bad things that seem appealing, but before Adam and Havah’s sin, this was not the case. They were perfect. They were completely connected to Hashem, with a crystal clear picture of what is right and what is wrong.
What happened when Adam and Havah ate from the forbidden fruit? They lost this clarity of vision. Havah made the tragic mistake of focusing on the fruit’s luscious appearance (ותרא האשה כי טוב העץ למאכל וכי תאוה הוא לעיניים), and thus as a result, she and Adam lost their clear perception. Forever more, appearance and essence are in conflict with one another. And thus they needed clothing. Before then, Adam and Havah had no reason to concern themselves with their outward appearance. Now, after the sin, external appearance mattered. They needed to show themselves to be something a little different than what they really were.
The Resume and the Eulogy
Somebody once sent me a book entitled The Road to Character, written by a contemporary columnist named David Brooks. In this book, the author distinguishes between what he calls “resume virtues,” and “eulogy virtues.” There are things that people are proud of which they would include in their resume, and there are things that people are proud of which could be spoken about at their eulogy. And these two types of virtues are very different from one another.
“Resume virtues” include things like professional skills, academic degrees, awards, and publications. Essentially, these are publicly celebrated achievements – jobs that a person performed for employers, or achievements on tests that were recognized by an educational institution. These can include very important and noble undertakings, such as volunteer positions leading charitable organizations or institutions, or awards received for philanthropic contributions or volunteer work. Publishing a sefer or serving as a Rabbi or Rosh Yeshiva is also a “resume virtue.” These are publicly recognized achievements that make a person seem impressive.
The “eulogy virtues,” by contrast, are those qualities that are often described at a person’s funeral. These are things like kindness, patience, courage, honesty, loyalty, devotion, humility, and spiritual devotion. These are qualities that don’t make much of a “splash,” that don’t earn a person much fame or recognition, and which largely go unnoticed by all but those closest to him – and sometimes even by those closest to him.
Our society is obsessed by “resume virtues.” What matters most to us, what people find most impressive, and the way people gauge theirs and other people’s worth and success, is what’s on their resume. In our world, “accomplishments” are things like wealth, a senior position, a large business, a luxurious home, a fancy car, and expensive clothing. This is ironic, because if you would ask almost any normal person today which of the two categories they think is more important, he or she would answer “eulogy virtues” without a moment’s hesitation. We all recognize being nice, kind, sensitive, generous and gracious as the most important virtues, yet we obsess over things like wealth, fame and professional success.
This is what happened when Adam and Havah ate from the tree. Before then, there was no conflict between one’s internal identity and his or her external identity. Adam and Havah were created perfect and true, without feeling any need to impress anybody or to appear a certain way. After the sin, we have this tension between our different sets of virtues. Our impressive external beings say nothing about our true inner beings. People can fill their “resumes” with dazzling achievements, but without building their true, inner selves.
The Nine Millionaires and Their Fate
Legend has it that in 1923, nine of the wealthiest people in the world at that time assembled for a meeting in a hotel in Chicago. Their combined wealth exceeded the worth of the United States government. This group consisted of the president of American’s largest steel company, the president of the America’s largest utility company, the president of America’s largest gas company, the president of the New York Stock Exchange, the president of the Bank of International Settlements, America’s greatest wheat speculator, America’s greatest speculator on Wall Street, the head of the world’s greatest monopoly, and a member of President Warren Harding’s cabinet.
Within 25 years of that meeting, it is told, the following happened:
· The president of the largest steel company, Charles Schwab, died bankrupt.
· The president of the largest utility company, Samuel Insull, died penniless.
· The president of the largest gas company, Howard Hobson, was committed to an insane asylum.
· The president of the New York Stock Exchange, Richard Whitney, was in jail.
· The president of the Bank of International Settlements, Leon Fraser, committed suicide.
· The wheat speculator, Arthur Cutten, died penniless.
· The head of the world’s greatest monopoly, Ivar Krueger, committed suicide.
· The member of the President’s cabinet, Albert Fall, was imprisoned and then pardoned so he could die at home.
· The Wall Street speculator, Jesse Lauriston Livermore, shot himself in the head.
Each of these nine men had a resume that would make anybody’s jaw drop. They had everything people normally dream of. They certainly knew how to make a living, but ever so tragically, they did not know how to make a life. They developed their external beings, but their internal beings were empty.
A precise opposite example is my wife’s great-uncle, Mr. Isaac Shalom, one of the most famous and renowned pioneers and builders of our community. There are plenty of impressive and wonderful items that would fill his resume, such as his successful business, which he built from scratch, and the Magen David Yeshivah, which he established, to cite just two of his numerous extraordinary accomplishments. But these amazing things do not tell the story of who he really was. The real story is – to take just one example – that he would actively help community members who were starting out in business, even if they were going into the same business he was in. He went ahead and helped people become his competitors. This is not something which made headlines, but it is what made him who he was. This was his inner being and essence.
The Two Halves of the Year
I see the year as being divided into two halves. One half runs from before Pesach through the end of Sukkot, and the other from after Sukkot until around Pesach time. The first half is largely spent focusing on our external beings, and the other half is when we can focus more on our internal beings.
During the holidays, and during spring and summer, we have a lot of exciting things going on. We spend a lot of time in the synagogue during the holidays, and in the spring and summer we spend a lot of time outdoors and with family and friends. Even the admirable, religious things we do have a certain public quality to them. We dress up in our finest clothing for shul, and many people make pledges for the various synagogue honors that are auctioned off. The Yom Tov meals serve not only the practical purpose of feeding people, but also to please and impress the guests. When we spend time with family and friends in the summer, we make a concentrated effort to make the best impression that we can. During this period, we are very “outward” oriented, focusing a great deal on appearance, on how we come across and are viewed.
The end of the Yom Tov season affords us the precious opportunity to shift gears and begin working on cultivating the other dimension, to build our inner selves. As the temperature drops, we find ourselves spending more time indoors, with our families. Without major holidays, we have fewer large, lavish meals. This is a far more private time of year, when we have a chance to focus more on our “eulogy virtues,” on the things that really matter. This is a time when we can pay more to attention to how we are than to how we appear.
Greatness is not built in the big, exciting moments, but in the ordinary, day-to-day routine. It is in our day-to-day routine when we build our faith, our discipline, our patience, our kindness, our devotion, our loyalty, our selflessness and our thoughtfulness. Instead of vacationing with relatives, we can make time to pick up a phone and call them for a friendly chat. Instead of preparing exquisite Yom Tov meals, we can make time to prepare meals for needy families, or families dealing with illness or other difficulties. Instead of taking the kids shopping for holiday clothes, we can make private time for each child. What a precious opportunity!
This is a time to look inward, to focus more on the things that don’t make headlines, that don’t impress anybody, but that are truly important. This is a time to build our true character and our true selves.
The Most Important Pasuk
Lest we underestimate the power of the ordinary, day-to-day routine, it is well worth our while to study a remarkable passage in the Midrash, in which the Midrash tells that a group of Rabbis were assembled and debated the following question: What is the most important pasuk in the entire Humash? Of all the many different stories and commands that we find in the Torah, which pasuk is the most fundamental for us to learn and follow as Jews?
Some of the pesukim chosen are readily understandable. One Rabbi cited the famous pasuk of שמע ישראל ה' אלוקינו ה' אחד, the most basic statement of Judaism’s most fundamental tenet of faith. Another cited the pasuk, ואהבת לרעך כמוך, which establishes the foundation of Jewish morality, requiring us to treat others as we would want to be treated.
But one of the Rabbis pointed to a pasuk which seems, at first glance, to be such a random and strange choice: את הכבש האחד תעשה בבוקר ואת הכבש השני תעשה בין הערבים – “You shall offer the first sheep in the morning, and you shall offer the second sheep in the afternoon.” This pasuk refers to the daily tamid sacrifice, which requires offering one sheep every morning and a second sheep every afternoon. Why would this pasuk be considered the most important pasuk in the Torah?
The answer is that this pasuk speaks of consistency, of the day-to-day routine. This pasuk shows us that a person’s real self is developed by his ordinary routine, not by the big moments. What we do day in and day out is what matters most.
We’ve had many exciting moments over the last several months. Now begins the time for the “one sheep in the morning” and the “second sheep in the afternoon,” for the normal routine. And this is when it really happens, when we have the opportunity to build our inner world.
The way we do this is by making worthwhile projects part and parcel of our ordinary routine. The key is to make mitzvot part of what we do, part of our regular schedule, so we don’t even have to think about them, because they’re just naturally part of what we do. Things like tefilot, Torah classes and volunteering should be built into our schedule. This means choosing which Torah classes we attend on a regular basis. It means allocating certain times during the week, or perhaps every other week, when we call a certain relative, or a certain friend, or a certain person who we know is lonely and would enjoy hearing from us. It means setting aside time each week to go out with each child. We should not wait for these things to happen – we have to go out and make them part of our daily routine. This is our chance, now, with the holidays behind us, to build a daily schedule that is meaningful and fulfilling.
The Rosh Yeshiva’s Second Dinner
One of the great Torah personalities of our time is Rav Yerucham Olshin, who is among the four Roshei Yeshiva of the Lakewood Yeshiva, the largest yeshiva in the world today. This position in itself is a very impressive item on Rav Olshin’s “resume.” But the following story shows us who Rav Olshin is far more than anything that could possibly be written on his resume – even serving as Rosh Yeshiva of the largest yeshiva on earth.
One year, before Simchat Torah, a student in Lakewood approached Rav Olshin and asked if he and several of his friends could be guests at the Rosh Yeshiva’s home for dinner on the night of Simchat Torah. Rav Olshin happily agreed. The young man told his friends to meet him at a certain place, from where they would then go together to the Rosh Yeshiva’s home.
As in all yeshivot, the hakafot in Lakewood were spirited and intense, and went until very late at night. When they finally ended, the boy went to the designated spot, but his friends were not there. He waited for a short while, but they did not show up. Finally, he decided to go to Rav Olshin’s home alone, as he did not want Rav Olshin to have to wait for him.
When he arrived, he profusely apologized to the Rosh Yeshiva for the delay, and Rav Olshin warmly welcomed him in.
“My wife just needs a little bit of time to finish setting up,” the Rosh Yeshiva said, “and then we’ll start the meal.”
The boy enjoyed a wonderful Yom Tov meal with the Rosh Yeshiva, replete with divreh Torah and singing.
The next day, he met his friends and asked them why they didn’t meet him at the designated location.
“What do you mean?” they said. “We were there and you weren’t!”
“What!?” the boy exclaimed. “I was there, you weren’t, so I went to the Rosh Yeshiva’s house all by myself!”
“What are you talking about?” the friends shouted. “We were there at Rav Olshin’s house for dinner, and you weren’t!”
The boy could not believe what was happening. He just didn’t understand.
Finally, after several rounds of back-and-forth, it became clear. This boy did not realize that Rav Olshin left to go home and eat dinner after the third hakafah, rather than wait for all the hakafot to end. His friends waited then for this boy, who did not show up, and so they went to the Rosh Yeshiva’s home for dinner without him. Then, later, after Rav Olshin’s meal was finished, this boy showed up at the door. Rav Olshin wanted to ensure he felt comfortable, and so he and his wife had an entire second meal, very late at night, just for that boy.
These kinds of stories never make it onto resumes. But these are the kinds of stories that tell us who a person really is.
Ever since the sin of Adam and Havah, we have had to endure this struggle between the two aspects of our characters – the aspect that is outwardly projected, and the aspect that is deep within us and defines our essence. We now have 28 weeks until Pesach. This is the time best-suited to return, to whatever extent possible, to the pristine existence of Gan Eden, to build our inner beings, and to truly make ourselves the people who we want to be.