The “Annoying Things”
At one point during the 2016 Presidential campaign, I was invited to join a group of Rabbis who met with Jason Greenblatt, longtime attorney and confidant of Donald Trump, whom Trump named as his advisor for Israel affairs. Mr. Greenblatt is an Orthodox Jew, and at this meeting, somebody asked Mr. Greenblatt to share how then-candidate Trump, now President Trump, felt about Jews.
Mr. Greenblatt answered by telling a story of how one time he was working with Mr. Trump on a deal that was worth some $1 billion. It was Friday, and Sunday and Monday were Yom Tov. This means that it was the day before a three-day observance of Shabbat and Yom Tov, during which Mr. Greenblatt would not be available at all. Mr. Greenblatt said that he was shaking in trepidation before he approached Mr. Trump to inform him that he would be away and unavailable for three days. He had been Mr. Trump’s attorney for only a couple of years, and so he felt very uneasy and feared that Mr. Trump would not take very kindly to his three-day absence during such a critical time.
Trembling, he went into Mr. Trump’s office and explained the situation, that a Jewish holiday was being observed on Sunday and Monday and so he would not be available.
Mr. Trump said, “It’s your holiday. Spend it with your family, and we look forward to seeing you back here on Tuesday.”
I tell this story not to discuss President Trump’s character, but rather to take note of Mr. Greenblatt’s resolve to obey the Torah even when it was difficult and scary. The Torah says in the beginning of Parashat Bechukotai that we will receive great rewards אם בחוקותי תלכו – if we “walk” with Hashem’s laws. This means that we take the Torah with us wherever we go. Torah observance is not something for shul, for yeshiva, or for the Shabbat table. It is something that must accompany us at all times and in all situations. When an attorney tells his boss during a critical period of negotiating that he needs to take off three days for Shabbat and Yom Tov, that’s אם בחוקותי תלכו – carrying the Torah to all circumstances, even when this entails great difficulty and sacrifice.
Connecting Heaven and Earth
The sixth week of the sefirat ha’omer period is associated with the quality of יסוד, which literally means “foundation.” The term יסוד refers to the connection between heaven and earth, between the divine realm and our earthly domain. We achieve יסוד by bringing Hashem into every situation in our lives, and recognizing that even our daily struggles and difficulties are opportunities to grow and to become close to Hashem.
Perhaps the most inspiring example of יסוד is a certain individual who had a very difficult upbringing, losing his mother at a young age and then being unable to get along with his siblings. While still just a teenager, he had to leave home and go to a different country, without any contact at all his family. He was all alone, in a foreign country, without any family whatsoever. In this foreign country, he was falsely accused of a crime, and was sent to a dingy prison cell with horrible conditions.
We refer, of course, to Yosef Ha’tzadik. His mother, Rachel, died when he was young, and his brothers despised him, to the point where they sold him as a slave. While working as a slave in Egypt, he was falsely accused of a serious crime, and sent to prison.
When Yosef was brought before Pharaoh, and he was finally given an opportunity to plead his case, he declared, בלעדי, האלוקים יענה את שלום פרעה – “It is not me; it is G-d who will give Pharaoh a satisfactory answer” (Bereshit 41:16). This was the ultimate achievement of יסוד. Yosef succeeded in bringing Hashem with him to the darkest corners of this world, to the dreariest moments of life. Even after being thrown into a pit and then into a prison cell, he brought Hashem with him. He was able to recognize that these hardships were opportunities for kedushah. When one sees such opportunities in all areas and circumstances in life, then he achieves the lofty goal of יסוד. Indeed, for this reason, Yosef is called צדיק יסוד עולם (“A righteous person, the foundation of the world”), because he embodies this quality of יסוד, of linking our world to Hashem, even the most trying and difficult aspects of our world.
Celebrating the Broken Tablets
The holiday of Shavuot celebrates the event of Matan Torah, when we received the Torah at Mount Sinai.
What is strange about this holiday is the fact that it celebrates an event that did not end up being successful. As we know, Moshe went up Mount Sinai on Shavuot to receive the Torah, and he came down with the luhot (stone tablets) forty days later. Upon descending from the mountain, he found the people worshipping the golden calf, and he threw the tablets to the ground, shattering them. Moshe then needed to pray to Hashem to forgive the people, and to then carve new stone tablets which he brought down from Mount Sinai several months later.
The question is obvious. Why do we celebrate a failure? Why do we celebrate the first Matan Torah, the one that did not succeed? Would it not make more sense to celebrate the final Matan Torah, when Moshe brought the second set of luhot, which did not have to be broken?
There is also something else strange about these broken tablets. Not only do we celebrate the broken tablets on Shavuot, but these tablets were preserved. Our Sages teach us, לוחות ושברי לוחות מונחים בארון – Moshe placed inside the ark in the Mishkan, in the holiest place in the world, both the second, permanent set of tablets, as well as the chards of the first tablets. Surprisingly, these broken pieces of the first tablets that could not be given to the Jewish People, were preserved – and not just preserved, but stored in the holy ark together with the second set of tablets. Why do these broken pieces of stone deserve to be kept alongside the second tablets?
The answer to both questions is that the first Matan Torah was not a failure at all. As I once heard somebody say about life’s struggles and failures, “They’re not bumps in the road, they are the road.” Being a Jew living a Torah life is not about doing everything right all the time and always having everything go smoothly. Living a Torah life means following the example of Yosef, the צדיק יסוד עולם, finding opportunities in every situation in life, including our less enjoyable, less impressive, and less successful moments. The broken tablets are just as much a part of Torah life as the complete tablets – because Torah life about finding opportunities for kedushah both in situations of “complete tablets,” when things go smoothly, and in situations of “broken tablets,” when we struggle and slip.
Our celebration of Shavuot on 6 Sivan, the day of the first Matan Torah, thus conveys a powerful and important lesson. It teaches us that failure is part of the process. The mistake of the golden calf did not negate the significance of Matan Torah. It was not even a “bump in the road” – it was part of the road, part of the process of living a Torah life, which, inevitably, will have its ups and downs.
Bringing Hashem to the Barber Shop
Though I generally abhor waiting in line, I once had no choice but to go the barber shop one year on the day after Lag Ba’omer, the first day when haircutting is allowed after the sefirah mourning period, which happened to be Friday. I realized that there would be a long wait for my turn. And so I walked in the shop, mentally preparing myself to be patient and to remain calm, and holding a sefer which I could read during the anticipated long wait so I wouldn’t feel as though I was wasting my time.
After I entered, I looked around so I knew who was before me. I waited for a while, managing to stay cool and remain calm. It was hot, there was no place to sit, and so I sat on the edge of a chair for a while trying to learn. But after about 40 minutes, I noticed that the person in front of me in line was letting people who just came in to go before him. I started getting edgy. In my frustration, I muttered to myself audibly, “I’m never coming back here when it’s like this.” I meant to say that I would never come back to the barber shop on a crowded day, but the barber – a very nice, older gentleman who is always gracious and friendly to me – thought I said that I would never come back again, anytime. He looked taken aback, understandably so.
I said to myself at that moment, “Joey, you failed so badly. You did well for about 40 minutes, but then you messed up.” My job was to bring kedushah to that hot, crowded barber shop. And after I “broke the luhot,” and failed, my job was to learn the lesson for next time. If I take the lesson of that failed opportunity and grow from it, then I turn failure into success. I use this mistake as a springboard that propels me forward. The broken luhot are valuable and holy because they ultimately led to the second luhot. If we use our mistakes and failures as opportunities for growth, as part of the process, then we succeed in the quality of יסוד, in connecting all aspects of life – even our lowliest moments – to Hashem.
We all experience a lot of “annoying stuff” over the course of life. By “annoying stuff” I mean times when, on the one hand, the world isn’t quite coming to an end, but when at the moment, it feels like it might. It could be a problem with a child, an argument with a spouse or other family member, a car accident, or a large bill that we don’t have the money to pay. The way to handle these situations is to remember that לוחות ושברי לוחות מונחים בארון – Torah life is about the good times and rough times, those occasions when things go smoothly and those when they don’t. Let us remember that Judaism celebrates even the broken tablets, even the “bumps in the road.” If we see these “bumps” as integral parts of the process of Torah, and succeed in finding opportunities for kedushah everywhere – whether it’s an office in Trump Tower on a Friday afternoon before a three-day holiday, or in a crowded, stuffy barber shop – we can make our lives happier and more fulfilling, and find that the “annoying” things aren’t so annoying after all.