Rebbetzen Tziporah – Time To Hear

TIME TO HEAR

Dear friends,

ELUL IS A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY IN TIME

Time is tricky. You can get an accurate answer when you ask someone, “What time is it,” but when you change the order of the words and ask, “What is time,” finding an answer is far more complex. The physical definition of time is “an ordered and measurable progression of change”. 

The world is in constant motion – rotations and revolutions and they all change the way the globe is in relationship with the sun, which makes day and night and the seasons predictable. You knew all of this, and you may be reasonably curious about why I am taking you back to your fourth-grade trip to the planetarium. Ramchal explains how day and night, and the various times of year often have spiritual and halachic avenues through which you can be in touch with the energy that Hashem gave them.

YOU HAVE THE MEANS TO “HEAR” ITS MESSAGE

Bnei Yissaschar (quoting early Kabbalistic sources) talks about which specific organ is the one that is in tune with the spiritual message and energy of each month.

Elul is the month of the ear.

You can “hear” Hashem, and when you do, your relationship to Him is far more honest than if you tune out or “adjust” the message to fit your assumptions.

YOU MAY BE ASHAMED TO ADMIT THAT YOU CAN’T HEAR

Picture this. You’re at a wedding. The decibel level is over 20. Your good friend, the kallah’s sister, whom you haven’t seen since your seminary days comes over to where you are standing (near the Viennese table – where else. If you are in Israel, you are standing near the table that has fried chicken wings, overcooked stuffed peppers, and kugel. We forgive you, O Israel, and accept you as you are.). 

The band moves into a heavy-duty dance rhythm. She talks. You have no idea of what she is saying, so you nod. Smile, Nod some more. Several days later you meet her randomly at Target. “What happened? We all expected you!” If you couldn’t make it, you should have just said something!” You piece the puzzle together.

You were embarrassed to tell her that you couldn’t hear her because all you could hear was the background music. We tend to do this very frequently with far more severe results.

WHEN YOU CAN’T QUITE HEAR

Last week’s parshah (Ki Teitzei) narrates the story of the ben-sorer u’moreh... the rebellious son, who eats a great deal of semi-cooked meat, gets drunk after a huge amount of wine, steals, and more. The introductory verse tells you the underlying story. “…he didn’t listen to the voice of his father… or mother.” 

No children always obey their parents. Not even hearing them is another thing entirely. He was deaf to anything that didn’t bring immediate gratification, and hostile to anyone who “stopped the music”.  

The Ohr HaChaim says that there are two guards that stand in front of the gates to your heart. Their job is to keep the mind’s words from reaching your emotions. They make it impossible for your heart to hear – it deafens your emotions. You want to hear the song of fantasy that tells you that if you have what you want at the moment, your life will be a dream. 

You have to block out the voice of awareness, of your inner ability to see truth, the part of you that hears your neshama speak out Hashem’s messages. How did the guards get there?

Fear is a powerful motivator. The more you identify with your spiritual self, the self that, like Hashem, is a giver, the less afraid you are to lose something material. Maharal points out that all chessed is a loser’s game. 

You either lose time, money, or emotional energy. It also is a winner’s game. You get eternity, bonding, and love, and most of all the ability to have an experiential bond we your Creator. If you are a materialist, you want to keep your ears closed.

There is another sort of fear that is far more subtle.

A true story: A Rav in Bnei Brak, Rav Toib (his real name) was asked an interesting question.

“This shei’lah is about an event that happened when I was in the fifth grade.” Seeing as the man standing in front of him looked about 50, this was somewhat surprising. “I was in HaMesorah, a really great Talmud Torah, but I had to leave because of what happened. A boy came to school with an envelope full of cash. His mother sent him on an afterschool errand to pay the electric company... 

He showed the money off to his friends, and it soon was the hottest topic in the cheder. He put it in his coat pocket at recess and headed to the yard. When he came back the money was gone. The Rebbe locked the door, and had us all face the wall, so we couldn’t see who would be caught. He felt everyone’s pockets, but the money wasn’t there. He had no choice. He had us put our backpacks and lunch bags on the table. 

The money was found in my backpack, even though I didn’t take it! The Rebbe was brilliant. He told the boys that someone put it there to protect himself, just like Yosef had his servants hide his goblet in Binyamin’s pack. The Binyamin strategy didn’t work. It didn’t work. From then on, I was Dovid-the-ganov. It stuck like glue. I left school at the end of the year, but I never got over the months of humiliation. Now, 40 years later, I got a call. The man on the phone told me that he was calling to ask me for forgiveness. I asked him why he was making this call, and he told me that he was the boy who stole the money and put it in my bookbag. I told him, “40 Yom Kippurs have come and gone. 

What made you wake up now?” “I’ll tell you the truth,” he said. “I am working for a firm, and I have been accused of embezzling money. I didn’t do it, but I know that if I can’t prove my innocence my career is over. I’m not doing that well financially anyway. This would destroy me.” I told him that I would think about it, Rabbi Toib, and this is what brings me to you. I’m not sure he’s sincerely sorry for what he did to me. He just is afraid.”  

Rabbi Toib thought about it a said, “Ask him for 5,000 shekels in return for forgiveness. See what he does.” After making the suggestion, Rabbi Toib wasn’t sure that he had done the right thing. He told his questioner to give him another day to consider the entire matter. He then approached one of Rav Chaim’s grandsons, and asked him to bring the question and the idea of payment to his grandfather. 

Here is Rav Chaim’s reply:

“He could ask for the money and forgive him, but he could also not make any demands, and even if the other man’s sincerity is not definite, he will end up like Rav Yose in the Talmud.

Who was Rav Yose?

He was the one who said that his wish is to have his place in Gan Eden be amongst those who suffered humiliation and accepted it without answering back.

May we all be worthy of being like Rav Yose, and hear what is real, deep, and meaningful. Let Elul be the month of mercy and forgiveness. Let us be ready to really hear the sound of the shofar.

 

Love, and ketiva and chatima tovah,

Tziporah