The Gemara says in Sanhedrin that Moshe Rabbeinu, when he went to Shamayim (heaven), saw Hashem writing the words of the Torah. Hashem was writing His 13 attributes of mercy. And in them, He was in the midst of writing one of them: Erech Apayim. Hashem is patient.
So Moshe Rabbeinu leans toward Hashem and says, “Hashem, is this patience only for the tzaddikim (righteous people), or even for the resha'im (evil people)?” Hashem says, “It’s even for the resha'im, even evil people. I am patient even with evil people.” So this little pamphlet that I got from the Mashgiach (spiritual supervisor) of the Kaminetz Yeshiva, Moshe Aharon Stern zichrono livracha (of blessed memory)—that’s all I asked the question. I understand why Hashem needs patience for the resha'im, for evil people. Why does He need patience for tzaddikim? These are not fraudulent tzaddikim. These are people that Moshe and Hashem know are tzaddikim. Why does Hashem need patience? “Hashem, is there patience even for tzaddikim, or even for the resha'im?” That implies that there’s for sure patience needed for tzaddikim. What patience is needed for tzaddikim? And his answer is this: There are a lot of people out there who are good people and could be so much better. They have so much more potential.
I don’t know if this is a good analogy, but I’ll use it. If your husband had a store, and he was working hard in the store, and he was earning—I’m just making up a number. I don’t know if this is a good number, bed number, just me—he’s earning a hundred thousand dollars. Would you be satisfied? Maybe the Syrians and Ashkenazi (Ashkenazi Jews) have different answers. Not sure. By the way, that’s because he might—I have worse answers than the Syrians these days. I’m joking.
Which would you be satisfied? What? Okay, now let me ask another question. How about if you know that he could really expand the store because the store next door is empty, and he could get the corner, and he could build it up three stories high, and within two years he could be making $3 million. Now are you satisfied with this $100,000 income from this store? If you are, you’re not normal, because normal people would be like, “What? You could—you could earn three million dollars. Why are you just earning a hundred thousand?” I say, “Nah, I don’t want to bother. I want to come home at four o’clock. I don’t want to buy. I don’t want to build. I don’t want to bother.” Maybe, like, “Are you kidding me? You could have done that, and instead you’re doing this. It’s so disappointing.”
Would you be proud if your child was a nurse? I think so. But not if they could have been a brain surgeon. Would you be proud if your child was a cashier? If they’re nice and honest? I think so, but not if they could have owned the store. Would you be proud if you had a kid who was a bench player in a basketball game? Maybe not. But not if they could have been a superstar.
So Hashem says the same thing to us: “I’m proud of you if you’re doing good, but not if you could have done so much better, not if you could have accomplished so much more.” This thought in many ways possesses me. What could you do? What else could you do? Who could you help? How much could you teach? Because doing good is not good enough. Hashem needs patience even for the righteous people. You know who those righteous people are? The wonderful mother who has four good kids and spends half a conversation insulted about something her sister didn’t say to her. The wonderful father who learns Torah but finds a way, after he closes the Gemara for an hour at night, to spend 45 minutes upset about something: the food that the shul (synagogue) is serving. Where are we? Are we really having this conversation? We can be so much better. You know what’s robbing our time? Nonsense. What’s robbing our time is pettiness. What’s robbing our time is things that we’re talking about that we really aren’t interested in.