Rabbi Barry Leff Digest
Number  77  Date  4/9/04

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Rabbi Barry Leff

“Everyone is free to choose whether to follow the good ways and to be righteous, or to follow the bad ways and be wicked…do not even consider what the stupid gentiles and most of the brainless clods of Israel say, that the Holy One, Blessed Be He, decrees upon each person at the time of birth whether he will be good or bad. This is not so - every person has the potential to be as righteous as Moses our Teacher, or as wicked as Jeroboam, clever or stupid, merciful or cruel, miserable or noble, or indeed to possess any of the other temperaments. Nobody can force one, decree upon one, or lead one into one of the ways, but one should choose a way out of one's own free will.” …Maimonides, Hilchot Teshuva 5:1-2

We usually think of teshuva, repentance, as a topic that is associated with the High Holidays—with Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. However, I am going to demonstrate that there is an important connection between teshuva and Passover.

R. Joseph Horowitz, a 19th century Mussar master, wrote in Madregat HaAdam that we become so entrenched in our habits, they become such a part of us, that the belief that we can change is taken from us.

We don’t believe that we can change our negative ways, even if we know they are bad for us. When Rambam says that we are free to choose whether to follow the good ways and be righteous, or to follow the bad ways and be wicked, we say, well, that doesn’t apply anymore, certainly not to someone like me. We tell ourselves that our nature and inclinations are too strong to change. 

What R. Horowitz says is certainly true today. How many of us have habits that we know are bad for us—whether it’s eating poorly, not getting enough exercise, not getting enough sleep—and we give up on ourselves, we say “I tried, but I can’t really change.” R. Horowitz says many people console themselves by saying “lu,” “if only…” “If only I was stronger,” or “If only I was smarter” …”if only,” then I would be able to do the things that I know I should do.

But if we explore the reason why people feel that choice has been taken from them, we find that people know they actually have the tools they need to change. People know that nothing can stand in the way of will—if someone REALLY wants something, he can turn the world upside down to get it or accomplish it. If someone really wants something, and recognizes that he is lacking in some way from being able to accomplish what he wants, he will redouble his efforts, will learn what he needs to learn, will find the ability to accomplish what he wants.

R. Horowitz says that the problem most people have is their egos. People are so concerned about having other people recognize how great they are, how wonderful they are, that we focus on the ways in which we are superior to other people. As we seek the positive strokes that come with people telling us we are good at something, we focus on our positive traits, not the ways in which we might be lacking. This is truly an occupational hazard for rabbis—people are always telling us nice things, “great sermon, rabbi,” or “wonderful class,” or “moving eulogy,” and we not only believe it, but we focus on those good points. So it’s human nature for all of us to become oblivious to the ways in which we are lacking: after all, who wants to focus on those?

In the quote from Rambam, it says we all have the choice to be as righteous as Moses or as wicked as Yeravam. We know how righteous Moses was, so that part of the instruction is perhaps pretty clear to us. On the other hand, unless you were paying very close attention to your Jewish history classes, you might be a little vague on who Yeravam was. Yeravam was the first king of the Northern Kingdom, the “split off” nation of the ten tribes. He not only ended the unification of the nation of Israel, but he led the Jews of the ten tribes in the North into idol worship and evil ways. He’s considered the consummate wicked person.

Moses was as great as he was, and Yerevam was as wicked as he was not because it was their nature, and not because of any special gift. It was all a matter of choice. R. Horowitz says the reason they chose the way they did was all wrapped up in ego.

Moses, as we know, was the most humble of men. The Torah tells us so: “And the man Moses was humbler than any other person on the face of the earth (Deut. 12:3).” And Yerevam was very hung up on his ego. The story is brought in the midrash that Yerevam would have been ready to get along with Solomon’s son Rechavam, but he was so hung up on his ego and honor, that he refused to come to the Temple, for fear people would see Rechavam sitting there, as he was entitled to, being the descendant of David, and him standing, and people would think he was the servant and Rechavam was the king. So instead of staying in a tight alliance with the tribe of Judah, and continuing to worship at the Temple, Yerevam decided he had to set up his own temple, and everything went downhill from there.

R. Horowitz tells us that the secret to Moses’ greatness was that since he was so humble, he thought anyone could do a better job than he could. So he was very tuned in to his lacks, where he needed improvement. When told he was assigned to take the people out of Egypt, he protested he was a poor speaker, someone else could do the job better. When told no, the job was his, he worked to overcome his lacks, either through the help of others (Aaron) or on his own, through developing his character.

I was surprised when I first learned of these teachings in Judaism that we should nullify our egos. I always associated nullification of the ego with a Buddhist view of the world, not a Jewish view of the world. Yet there is a great value placed on humility in our tradition.

We are in the middle of Passover. Passover is a time when the tradition charges us to emulate Moses and strive to squelch our egos. We eat matzah, which is called lechem oni, which translates as either “bread of poverty” or “humble bread.” Matzah is definitely the humblest of breads. No puffery at all. Chasidic teachings compare the puffed-up chametz, the leaven, of regular bread with our puffed up egos. Just as we are told to sweep away the puffed up chametz from our homes, we are instructed to sweep away any traces of puffery, any hang ups on ego, from our souls.

The first step in change is always to recognize the need to change. If we haven’t seen it in ourselves, most of us have seen it in a friend. We see someone going down a negative path, but nothing is going to change until they decide something NEEDS to change. And our spiritual chametz, our egos, is what often blocks us from being aware of the need to change.

Not only does ego prevent us from seeing our lacks, but if we do think about our lacks, it causes us to downplay them. The novelist Margaret Halsey said “Whenever I dwell for any length of time on my own shortcomings, they gradually begin to seem mild harmless, rather engaging little things, not at all like the staring defects in other people's characters.”

If we can accomplish this task—of learning to let go of our inflated ideas of how great we are, of becoming, like Moses, capable of seeing our lacks—we will find that the power to change is truly in our hands. To become greater than we are. But the first step is to get our ego out of the way so we can be open to seeing where we are lacking.

At the beginning of Pesach, you hunted down any chametz in your home, and whatever you didn’t throw away, sell, or burn, you declared ownerless like the “dust of the earth.” Today and the next few days until the end of Pesach is a good time to also pay attention to your spiritual chametz, and to avoid it as carefully as you avoid the physical chametz. 

Moadim l’simcha (It’s the season for rejoicing!)

Rabbi Leff

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