Rabbi Berry Farkash, Chabad of the Central Cascades
It was a spring evening in the mid-’60s; a group of young students from NYU came for a private audience with the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson.
The group was mostly young boys and girls from secular homes who wanted an opportunity to converse with the Rebbe, and ask about what was on their minds. They were granted a 20 minute meeting with the Rebbe and they came prepared with questions. The Rebbe answered their questions incisively and shared with them the Torah perspective on many issues relevant to their lives.
The 20 minutes passed quickly. The Rebbe’s secretary knocked on the door to let them know their time was up. Suddenly, a boy in the group who was “blessed” with a bit of chutzpah turns to the Rebbe and says, “Rebbe, may I ask one final question before we leave? This will be the final question of the evening.”
The Rebbe granted him permission and the boy asked: “Rebbe, are we good Jews or are we bad Jews?” The room was still and silent.
The Rebbe smiled and replied: “To be Jewish is to climb a ladder. Each and every one of us is climbing that ladder. The ladder has 613 rungs with many more sub-rungs. If you are on rung 613 but you are going toward the 612th rung, you are going in the wrong direction. However, if you are on the first rung and heading up, you are going in the right direction.
“Let me ask you, you American students, at this hour of the night, in New York City, choosing to take your time to visit a Rabbi to discuss Jewish values and ethics,” the Rebbe concluded, “are you good Jews or bad Jews”?
It’s all about direction. We are all truly the same; we all have our own challenges and difficulties in our Jewish experience. Some have a hard time with observing Shabbat, others struggle with providing their children with an authentic Jewish education, and some find it hard to give of their hard-earned money to charity. Everyone battles something.
The important thing is not to put yourself in box. I often speak to people who claim to be “bad Jews.” They feel inadequate if they don’t look a certain way or do a certain thing. So they put themselves in a box with a big label that says “High-Holiday Jew, open for High Holidays only.” Or, “non-synagogue goer, not for use in a shul.”
Once in the box, we are less inclined to change and we fall into a quasi-comfort zone, which we are not entirely comfortable in, but too complacent to get out of.
It is critical to understand that connecting to God is an infinite pursuit. To claim to have reached the apex of that journey is to go in the wrong direction.
Rather than feel guilty about what point we might be in our journey, let’s look up, and continue to climb.
We can’t quantify the value of the mitzvot we do. Let’s not look at others and say, “There’s no way I can be like him.” Rather, let’s ask ourselves, “How have I improved today?”
To illustrate this idea, Chassidim would recount a story of the czar’s army, which was renowned for its high level of discipline. One night a group of soldiers escaped from the army base to the nearest town to get a drink at the local bar. One drink led to another and suddenly they realized it was almost dawn. They got up and started to run back to the base. So inebriated were the soldiers that they collapsed and fell asleep at the side of the road.
A short while later, an army officer rode by, noticed the scene, and wrote down the names of the sleeping soldiers, then continued toward the base. Several hours later, the soldiers sobered up and hurried to the army base, fearing what awaited them for missing the morning line-up. Upon arrival they were sent to the officers’ tent and prepared for the worst. To their amazement, the officer greeted them all with a big smile and said: “I truly understand you, living on this base for so long without a drink must be really difficult; you are forgiven for what you did just don’t do it again.”
Suddenly he turned to one of the soldiers, his face filled with rage and anger, and said: “You, however, will receive a severe punishment.”
This poor soldier, feeling like a scapegoat, demanded an explanation for this unfair verdict. The officer explained: “The reason for your severe punishment is because when I found you on the side of the road sleeping, I observed that all the soldiers, even in their stupor, fell facing the army base, their final destination. You, on the other hand, were the only one who fell facing the direction of the bar. And for this you deserve to be punished.”
This story is a good analogy: In life we will sometimes fall asleep, our daily struggles and challenges have a way of immobilizing, preventing us to from reaching our fullest. But we can at least make a conscientious decision to fall asleep facing the right direction so when we muster the strength to get up, we may continue heading toward that destination.
Let us hold hands as we climb the ladder of Judaism together, helping and lifting one another as we stumble on our way up. Let’s strap on our climbing shoes — things are looking up.