Ascending to Greatness

In our preparation for Matan Torah, we’re not only required to count the days of omer, but also to make the days count. As the Nesivos Shalom, among many other sefarim, notes, the period of Sefiras Ha’omer is a time for us to pay attention to and improve our middos as a prerequisite for becoming a viable vessel for absorbing the Torah.

We want to arrive at Matan Torah of 5783 having done the work to ready ourselves for receiving this momentous gift. So what is this work that’s required from us?

These days are highly opportune for avodas hamiddos. It’s in this time period over three millennia ago that Klal Yisrael experienced the pinnacle of spiritual metamorphosis: they rose from the forty-ninth level of impurity to the peak of kedushah at Matan Torah. What does “forty-ninth level of im- purity” mean? How can our human minds grasp this concept? Simply put, tumah refers to distance from Hakadosh Baruch Hu. The closer a neshamah is to Hashem, the more kedushah it holds. In Mitzrayim, Klal Yisrael was as far from Hashem as could possibly be. It was through coming closer and closer to Him that they transformed into the holiest of people. The word tamei, the sefarim explain, contains the same letters as the word atum, blocked. Spiritual impurity ensues as a result of a blockage, of an individual’s disconnect from their neshamah, which is essentially a disconnect from Hashem. It’s when a Yid, a composite of guf and neshamah, lives on a very superficial plane, tending only to the needs and wants of his guf. (This explains why a meis, the physical body in which the neshamah is no longer present, is the entity that has the most tumah).

In Those Days, in Our Times

The more connected we are to the spiritual pursuits in life, the more steps away we are from tumah, and these weeks of Sefiras Ha’omer are an especially auspicious time to invest ourselves in this endeavor. Just as the Yidden in the dor hamidbar experienced their elevation during this period, these days in our time are also infused with that same koach—a koach of enabling us to rise to great heights, of leaving behind every vestige of impurity and moving closer and closer to becoming sanctified vessels of Torah.

The path to purifying ourselves, we know, is through avodas hamiddos. Each of the Sefiros correlates to a middah that we have the ability to acquire and refine, traits that negate the wants of the body and embrace the desires of the neshamah. While the body, for example, is self-centered, the neshamah desires to give. At all times, the neshamah desires to emulate the middos of Hakadosh

Baruch Hu, who is the quintessential Giver and the embodiment of forgiveness, among other positive traits.

Avodas hamiddos is a lofty ideal. But what does it mean in practical terms for us human beings living in the here and now? What is the path to effecting change from the inside out? Before we delve into what constitutes effective avodas hamiddos, let’s preface it with a disclaimer of what avodas hamiddos is not: an exercise in denial.

To deny our inner thoughts and emotions does not in any way resemble the kind of work the Torah exhorts us to do. Not only is it ineffective, but it actually hinders us from achieving true growth.

To tell ourselves that we’re not jealous, angry, resentful, etc., when we actually are is counterproductive to true inner work. After all, if I’m never envious of anyone, why would I need to work on the middah of kinah? And what happens as a result is fascinating. Because I can’t admit to the place I’m at, I may find this middah seeps through the cracks nevertheless, taking on other guises. For example, let’s say I’m envious of someone who’s exhibiting success in a certain pursuit, but it’s hard for me to admit it. I may find myself thinking derogatory thoughts—or worse, verbalizing them—in the name of “l’toeles” or “hocheiach tochiach,” all because I can’t face my own truth. The longer we convince ourselves of this falsity, the longer it’ll take for us to actually get to work on refining our inner landscape.

A Good Look

We’ve established what avodas hamiddos is not, so what does constitute this virtuous endeavor? It starts with cheshbon hanefesh, looking inward. Taking stock of our current place is a critical prerequisite to authentic growth. It’s first and foremost tak- ing a good, honest look at ourselves and asking, “What here needs fixing? Where do I stand right now that is hindering my ability to come closer to Hashem?” Exercising self-awareness is so important in our inner work that we find the sefarim don’t explain much regarding what needs to be done next. Often, the impact of simply seeing ourselves at the place where we currently stand is significant and transformative enough to trigger the growth process.

There are times when an external change is warranted, and that in itself helps with refining one’s middos, for example, when one is tempted to speak lashon hara and doesn’t submit to the urge, or one is about to shatter an object in a fit of rage, but he desists. These are all virtuous measures toward refining one’s conduct, but if we want to truly refine our character from the inside out, the focus of our attention should be hisbonenus, introspection of our current place.

Hisbonenus entails taking note of not only our strengths, but also our darker parts. As counterintuitive as it seems, it’s specifically when we take note of these parts that we can facilitate their dissipation. Make no mistake: the reason we often have a hard time seeing this side of ourselves emanates from a sacred place—we find it difficult to acknowledge that some of our parts don’t reflect our true exalted position as Yidden with a neshamah. But what Hakadosh Baruch Hu desires is for us to not turn a blind eye to our weaknesses. It’s only when we notice them that we can start to facilitate its dissolution. As long as we’re denying them, they simply remain, and then we find ourselves acting upon them mindlessly.

Grab and Go

We most often come to err in our ways in moments when we pay the least attention to our inner selves.

To illustrate, imagine an individual taking a walk on Shabbos who puts his hat (or shtreimel) down at a rest stop. Suddenly, it dawns on him that he’s standing just at the border of the eiruv, with his hat on the other side of the demarcation line. Now what? He starts sifting through his brain, trying to dredge up some heter—any heter—to enable him to lift his hat up and continue walking. Alas, none come to mind. He continues to stand there for another minute or so, and then suddenly grabs the hat and walks off.

What was the grabbing all about? Why couldn’t this individual lift his hat up calmly and stroll off? It’s because an aveirah never happens with clarity of mind, with a thoughtout plan. It happens in the moment when we’re caught off guard, when we’re simply not paying attention to what’s going on within. Indeed, the Gemara teaches that “one only sins when a ruach shtus [spirit of insanity] enters” (Sotah 3a). No frum Yid consciously chooses to transgress the Torah’s command. Rather, it happens when we’re not paying attention, when instead of taking the moment to ponder where we’re at, we quickly get up and “grab the hat.”

A story is told of a great warrior against the Reform movement, Rav Bentzion Ilfas zt”l, who lived in the times of the Chafetz Chaim. He once approached a fellow Yid in shul with an interesting request: “Can you please regale me with a good piece of lashon hara? I reviewed the entire sefer Chafetz Chaim before I came to you, and I couldn’t find a heter for speaking ill of others. Still, I really would appreciate if you could tell me just one juicy statement of gossip.”

The Yid raised his eyebrows at this bizarre request. “Lashon hara?” he asked, incredulous. “Of course not! I could lose my entire Gan Eden for that!” Rav Benzion heard the young man, but he didn’t back off. After a moment of thought, he made his offer all the more promising. “I’ll pay you for it,” he tried. “I’ll pay you whatever you feel it’s worth for me to hear that statement or two from you.” Every time the man refused, the Rav upped his bid, until he reached an astronomical number. At the sound of that, the young man blurted out, “Let me speak to my wife about this.” But then, he immediately drew back. “Are you serious? Do you really think I’m ready to give up my Olam Haba for a piece of lashon hara, even if you’re offering me this much? Never!”

That’s when Rav Benzion finally asked the young man, “So tell me. Why is it that I walked past you on the way home from shul yesterday, and I heard you say a really bold statement of lashon hara against your fellow Yid? Now I’m offering you the world and you’re refusing to utter even one negative word, and then you were dispensing this same derogatory speech so freely.”

At this, the Yid’s shoulders sagged from shame. But with his genuine ahavas Yisrael, Rav Benzion said to him, “Listen, dear brother. Allow me to explain the difference to you. Yesterday, you weren’t thinking. The words just flowed out your mouth of their own accord. Today, there was thought in the equation. First, I told you clearly that this would warrant a transgression. Then, I offered you a monetary reward. This generated a thought process: Do I want money or Gan Eden? I gave you so much time for cheshbon hanefesh that you couldn’t possibly commit this aveirah.”

The reason we err is because, in those moments, we leave behind all vestiges of thought. Like a thief in the middle of the night, we just “grab the hat” and hurry off.

It was with recognizing this phenomenon that the tzaddik Rav Usher Freund zt”l helped save a Yid’s neshamah from sin. The Yid, like many others who clung to Rav Usher, was no stranger to crime. He was found guilty of burglary on more than one occasion, and when he was caught stealing on Yom Kippur itself, Rav Usher devised a plan to help save his neshamah. He told the Yid, “I’m not sending you away from my home; you’re still welcome to stay. But, every time you see me, I have one request from you: You must call me ‘Usher the ganav.’ Otherwise, you have to leave my home.” Wanting to remain in his comfortable quarters, under the wings of the quintessential oheiv Yisrael, the Yid followed orders, calling out ‘Usher the thief’ tens of times daily.

With time, the Yid’s burglary career came to an end. How did Rav Usher wise insight facilitate this repentance? Until the Rav made this interesting request of the Yid, the Yid found reasons to justify every one of his thievery stints. He didn’t see it as thievery at all. But, once he started verbalizing again and again the name of the act he was guilty of, it started staring him in the face, so to speak. “Ganav, ganav, ganav,” the message reverberated in his mind, until he was so repulsed by the idea that his adverse habit came to an end.

To Ponder

It’s only when we pay no attention to what we’re doing that we can find ourselves engaging in behaviors that are less than ideal. As soon as we sit down and ponder, we simply can’t persist with our negative ways.

A helpful suggestion for someone who’s seeking motivation to organize a particular space is to first snap a photo of the area. This snapshot helps them realize just how untidy the space currently is, which will ease him into the organization process.

The koach of this snapshot is the koach of cheshbon hanefesh. This is why recording ourselves for just one day can be a supremely powerful tool in making this accounting. We’ll have a chance to notice all those times we slipped up, those moments when we lashed out, when we spoke without thought, when we lost our composure.

Because we have such a powerful need to feel whole and good, it’s challenging for us to see ourselves at the place we’re at. It’s uncomfortable for us to see what work still needs to be done, to notice our human frailties and what’s getting in the way of us connecting more deeply to our neshamah. But by taking this “snapshot,” by taking the time to ponder the place where we’re currently at, we’re able to kickstart the transformation process.

As much as it may feel more comfortable in the moment, we simply can’t turn a blind eye to what needs improvement. In fact, one of the most powerful means to help facilitate healing in individuals who are struggling with addiction is to en- courage them to verbalize the name of their self-sabotaging behavior. Even a hardcore addict has solid excuses to rationalize his behavior; it’s uncomfortable for him to see it for what it is. But when he actually verbalizes what he does, he gives himself the opportunity to ponder the truth, and that can help bring on positive change.

Each of us has a need to be good, to feel shleimus. The only reason why we sometimes don’t conduct ourselves in alignment with that vision of ourselves is only because we’ve found a way to justify our deeds. That inner lawyer comes to the rescue so we can continue feeling holy and untainted. But if want to move away from tumah, from being disconnected from our neshamah, and move toward the kedushah that klal Yisrael reached at Matan Torah, that’s what needs to be done.

In Koheles (5:1), Shlomo Hamelech urges, “Don’t be rash with your mouth and let your heart not be hasty to utter a word before Hashem.” If we would ponder our words one moment longer, is the message, we would speak differently. Haste often leads us to err simply because being cognitive of our every move enables us to go about it with clarity and purpose. It’s for this reason, the sefarim explain, that the conse- quence for a leper was to wander outside the camp. This punishment was not to lock him out of society out of cruelty, only to facilitate what was so obviously lacking: his ability to ponder inward. That this individual spoke lashon hara is an indication that he hadn’t had the proper yishuv hada’as to consider how his emotions were getting in the way of his observance of the mitzvos nor the ramifications of his deed. Thus, the Torah wisely commands that he leave the machaneh, residing outside the camp for a considerable chunk of time, so he could engage in hisbonenus, to look deeper and see where he had gone wrong and how he had lost track of climbing toward the place he truly wants to be.

When an individual engages in cheshbon hanefesh, he’s simply taking note of what he’s been doing—without rationalizing. He’s essentially looking himself in an authentic mirror, and that in itself will facilitate change. When we face ourselves at exactly where we are, the change process automatically commences. And it is then that we merit authentic growth, as well as the unmatched simchah that comes along with having nothing to hide—even from ourselves. With a more purified slate, we can be ready for a more connected life.

By Esther Retek