Who's Doing the Walking?

When we were children, my brother had a distorted old pair of running shoes which he refused to throw away because they were so comfortable. My mother, to no avail, kept telling him that distorted shoes affect your walk and can misshape a growing foot. She also had her own theory for me too. She’d say, if you walk around in very baggy clothing all the time, you’ll grow into them and won’t feel yourself getting fat. Now, this is no blog on orthopedics or weight, but the running shoe and sweatpants admonishments have become symbolic life lessons for me. Where she was a pragmatist, I was a philosopher.

How often in life do we fall into what is comfortable for us instead of what is good for us? Too often! But, the comfort zone, dear readers, is not your friend. It’s a place where we lull ourselves with excuses, cower in fear, and stop seeing who we are and what we are becoming. In the “bagginess,” the details get lost, and there is no valuable reference frame to measure our lives, our growth, and, G-d forbid, our failures. But we can't fear failure. It is a teacher after all, not a death sentence.

It's sad—no, it’s tragic—how many of us get too comfortable in jobs that are beneath us or “love” relationships that diminish us, or body sizes that inhibit us, or habits that kill us. We even grow comfortable in our misery and toxicities that we can no longer notice due to familiarity. 

In this week's parashah, we read about the traits that make an animal or species kosher or not. Doing so involves scrutiny and isolating traits that qualify a potential food source. We have to review our own lives and our own traits with the same scrutiny and start cutting out the things, friends, habits, etc., that are inhibiting our reach for excellence, including spiritually.

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Yes, it’s intimidating to dip one’s toe in the big wide world because even as we get inspired, we really think everyone else is better than us, smarter than us, more capable than us. Basically, we are afraid of life. But as the book Outliers portrays via data, “geniuses” are made, not born. Few are greater than us naturally. The proof is that the self-help market is a multibillion-dollar industry. Without ever opening a self-help book, merely acknowledging the size of that industry should be an instant cure for all our insecurities. It’s telling us, rather shouting at us, that everyone is in the same boat. Everyone is afraid or insecure on some level.

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In a few weeks, we will be entering the month of Elul on the Hebrew calendar, which is a month of introspection wherein people try to improve themselves prior to the upcoming high holidays of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. But change can never really come if we don’t hone in on what needs to be changed. This week’s Parasha Re’eh opens with the words, “Behold, I set before you today a blessing and a curse.” We think the choice should be clear and easy. But the evil inclination starts blurring the lines between choices, and we very often grab for the curse because it’s comfortable.

We are told that G-d doesn't recognize the Jewish people from one Yom Kippur to the next. The pure souls that left the synagogue a year earlier have returned in a blemished state one year later. My prayer for all of us is that next year G-d won’t recognize us once again, but only because we are better, brighter, happier, healthier, and holier than ever before.

And as my mother taught, stop falling into things that mask your faults or accommodate them, and choose the blessings--choose life.

Who Are You? & Why They Hate Us

Pulling out my calling cards made me feel important: ABC News, Fox News, Lifestyles Magazine—no shabby affiliations by any means. As a journalist, I must admit that at the start of my career, meeting prominent people was intoxicating. There it was: my name in the byline next to world-famous headliners, congressmen, journalists, and rock stars. I was initially proud—feeling like a superstar by association. When you rub shoulders with such people, what really rubs off?

As we know, all that glitters is not gold. For the most part, it was a fake world, both bamboozled and paranoid with itself. Some of the people I interviewed and met have been indicted and have committed serious offenses. Am I now guilty by association? It seems only fair, given that I gained honor from their klieg lights. At what cost, I ask, do we cling to our titles, prestige, and illusory visions of ourselves? A whole life can pass without truth. We cling to status symbols, striving for more, without deeply contemplating who the real audience is.

I consider myself fortunate because, for every "star" I’ve pursued, some fallen, I was keenly aware of the presence of a Higher Power above them—Hashem. When I realized I was living in a vapid world of make-believe, there was something real and unchanging for me to grasp onto—G-d and His Torah. Scrolled up in the heart of every synagogue and within every Jew is the true infinite source of light, not one that switches off when the show ends or burns out midway.

Our egos and pride have become massive scaffolds holding up our house of cards. But when life huffs and puffs, it will blow our "house" down. The eye-opening antisemitism of the past year, reminiscent of the hatred preceding the Holocaust, has served to knock down our scaffolds. Despite our significant contributions across every echelon of society, the Jew is still hated. Despite all we’ve contributed scientifically, monetarily, or otherwise to improve the world, we remain targets of hatred. The simple question of why should not be beyond our inquiry. Both the Jewish people and their tiny country are uniquely targeted for opprobrium.

Here's why!

Have you ever known someone who achieved great success, only to be criticized for “forgetting where they came from”? That’s us, the Jews. We have forgotten our origins and what we are meant to do on this planet. G-d told us we are His special chosen nation, and our job is to behave like Jews and be a light to all the nations. Being a Jew means being honest in business, keeping kosher, giving charity, and representing G-d with class, grace, and integrity. But we’ve come to love ourselves too much and serve our own desires instead, causing our holy charge and all that comes with it to disintegrate in the tantalizing process of assimilation—a people trying so hard to fit in when we were born to stand out.

We have modern-day role models, but perhaps it’s best to look toward figures whose names still inspire thousands of years later—like Moses. Moses didn’t need titles. He was the most humble person who ever lived. The greatest prophet in history, who spoke face-to-face with G-d, did not have business cards that read Prophet-in-Chief or CEO of the Torah. Moses was called a servant of G-d. King David’s humility, too, made him the greatest king in history: "And I am a worm and not a man" (Psalms 22:17). I'm not knocking achievement, just forcing the question: Who are you serving?

If antisemitic governments and institutions can expel Jews or expropriate their possessions, what remains of us? What can we pass to the next generation? When we leave a job, retire, or get fired, and our business cards become obsolete, who are we? Do we just become sad, pathetic old stories of what we used to be? To understand who we are, we must know where we come from. We are the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We are the students of Moses and the trustees of the Divine word chosen by G-d Himself. We are Jews, deliverers of light. That is our job and duty. So, stop focusing on the calling cards and listen to your calling. Don’t make G-d shout. Because, in case you haven’t noticed, the discontent is getting louder.       Shabbat Shalom!