With Elul
and slichos upon us, it is with
trepidation that we begin to evaluate the events of the past year. It is always
easier to analyze the actions of others then to focus on ourselves.
Nevertheless, there is no question that outside influences can directly affect
us and create anxiety. These days, simply reading a newspaper or listening to
the news may make us wonder if we are living in a parallel universe. It seems
that much of the world has gone mad and that the United States, which is now
absent of coherent leadership, is rudderless and descending into moral chaos.
One wonders if the voices of sanity and reason will be able to survive the
morally corrupt “woke” who seem to be holding (the mostly silent) majority
hostage.
We Jews are supposed to be an or lagoyim (a light unto the nations).
Therefore, our actions, behavior, and the way we conduct ourselves influence the
people around us – sometimes in small ways and sometimes in profound ways. For
example, I recall numerous occasions when Senator Joe Lieberman created a kiddush Hashem because of his moral and
ethical conduct which demonstrated his commitment to Torah principles.
* * *
In 2004, I was a scholar-in-residence
at a shul in Denver. A frum-looking
young man picked me up at the airport. On the drive into town, we chatted. I
learned that he was a medical resident at the University of Colorado hospital
in Aurora and that he was a baal teshuva.
I asked who his mentor was. He said, “Do you mean who encouraged me to become a
baal teshuva?”
I said, “Yes; who?”
He replied “Senator Joe Lieberman.”
I said, “Wow, that’s amazing. How do
you know the Senator?”
He said, “I don’t know him
personally.”
I was intrigued. He continued, “During
the 2000 election season, I was dating a lovely baalas teshuva who had started observing Shabbos and kashrus. I had tried to become more
observant, but I was convinced that there was no way that I could be a Sabbath
observer during my last year of medical school, my subsequent internship, and
my future career as a pulmonologist. In October of 2000, the extremely close
presidential election was in its final days. Each day, the news reported where
the candidates were and what they were doing. I recall watching a hospital TV
on Sunday, October 15 (the second day of Sukkos, 2000), when the TV news
reported on the activities of each of the candidates: Bush, Cheney, Gore, and
Lieberman. That broadcast was reaching tens of millions of people worldwide.
When they got to Joe Lieberman, the news clip showed him walking to shul
holding an esrog and a lulav being accompanied by Secret
Service agents. The reporter first explained what an esrog and lulav were.
(I’m certain he had to do some research.) He went on to explain that, before accepting
the vice-presidential nomination, the Senator said that he would not be able to
campaign on the Jewish Sabbath or on Jewish holidays. That meant that a lot of
important campaigning would be missed if Lieberman was nominated. Nevertheless,
he was the vice-presidential choice of the Democrats in 2000.”
The young doctor went on to say, “I
knew that there was an important message there for me. Millions of people
around the world were watching a TV broadcast focusing on an observant Jew who
put his faith ahead of his political career! It was inspiring and humbling. I
thought, if a prominent Jew like Senator Lieberman could proudly and
unapologetically observe Shabbos, so could I. The young doctor continued, “A
couple of months later, in January of 2001, Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski was in
town to speak about substance abuse. After his lecture, I was able to chat with
him. I explained that I had just finished medical school and wondered if he
could give me any tips on how to navigate the difficult issues relating to
practicing medicine while observing Shabbos. Dr. Twerski was incredibly helpful
and supportive. With Dr. Twerski’s encouragement, I then started learning at
our local kollel six hours a week. Ten months later, I married my beautiful, Sabbath-observing
wife – and here we are!”
* *
*
As we approach Rosh Hashanah, we
should be reminded of the improvements we each need to make in order to
positively influence ourselves and those around us. Now, more than ever, our
task to be “a light unto the nations” is vital. Thank G-d, there are many
special Jews who do serve as role models in a world bereft of moral leadership.
Joe Lieberman is one. His positive (Jewish) self-esteem created a kiddush Hashem throughout his career. I
recall when Senator Lieberman sat shiva
for his mother. He sat properly, without compromising. He wore torn clothing,
let his beard grow, and sat in a mourner’s low chair – unkempt, as befits a
mourner. Heads of government, Supreme Court justices, and numerous senators and
congressmen came to pay their respects. The Senator was who he was: unapologetic
and sincere. Again, it was a kiddush Hashem
and an important lesson for Jews – many of whom are self-conscious about being
“too Jewish.”
Sadly, since Joe Lieberman retired
from the Senate there are no more Jewish role models on Capitol Hill. It’s
tragic that the moral compass of the Senate, as the late Arizona senator, John
McCain, referred to Joe Lieberman, has not been replaced.
Self-esteem is a huge issue for
everyone, and Jewish self-esteem is an even bigger issue. Jewish self-esteem
requires us to always be aware of the unique mission that each of us has to
fulfill. It isn’t a simple task. We must be conscious of our behavior at all
times.
* * *
There is a wonderful story which
illustrates how much self-perception can affect positive change: In mid-nineteenth
century Poland, there was a depressed shtetl. The young people were moving away,
and those who remained were joyless. Fewer and fewer people showed up for shul.
Even the occasional simcha was poorly
attended. Eventually, the shul struggled to make a minyan. The rav spoke to the gabbai and the shamash
and said, “We cannot go on this way; Rosh Hashanah is coming, and something
must be done. I ask the two of you to travel to the great Rebbe, Elimelech of
Lizhensk, for advice. Our future depends on it.”
The shamash and gabbai agreed
to go, the difficult and taxing journey to Lizhensk notwithstanding. Upon
arriving, they were told that in the days of Elul leading up to Rosh Hashanah,
the Rebbe was extremely busy and that if the Rebbe could make time for the
visitors, it would be brief. The gabbai
and shamash hunkered down in the
Rebbe’s shul waiting and hoping to see him. After waiting for three days, they
were awakened in the middle of the night by the Rebbe’s son, who told them that
if they hurried, his father would see them for a few minutes. The two men
hurriedly washed and ran to the Rebbe, feeling that they would receive the
right answer to save their shtetl.
Finally, they were in the presence
of the great Rebbe. They quickly explained why they had come. The Rebbe
listened carefully, closed his eyes, and thought for a few moments. He then
said, “I’m sorry, I have no solution for you.”
The men were on the verge of tears.
They said, “Is there nothing that the Rebbe can advise us?”
Again, the Rebbe apologized and said,
“I’m sorry.” The two men thanked the Rebbe for his time and dejectedly headed
for the door. As they were about to leave, the Rebbe said, “There is one thing
you should be aware of.” The gabbai
and shamash paused. The Rebbe
continued, “One of you, in your shtetl may surely be the mashiach!” The Rebbe then blessed the two men and wished them well.
The men stood frozen outside of the
Rebbe’s home. What were they to do about what they just heard? On the long
journey back home neither man said much. They were both deep in thought. The gabbai thought, “I could be the mashiach. Or could it be that the shamash is the mashiach? Maybe it’s the rabbi, or then again it could be me.” The shamash had similar thoughts. When the
two men finally reached their shtetl, they immediately went to the rabbi to
explain their odd experience. The rabbi thought to himself, “I might be the mashiach, or if I’m not, I’m certainly
going to be the msashiach’s gabbai.”
The rabbi told the shamash and the gabbai that the next night there would be a community meeting to
inform everyone about what the Rebbe had said. Although it was three weeks
until Rosh Hashanah, the shul was packed. Word about what the Rebbe had said
had already spread. Even though it was a Wednesday night, the shamash, the gabbai, and the rabbi were dressed in Shabbos clothes, as were the
members of the community. The rabbi gave a dvar
Torah and everyone listened. He then repeated what the Rebbe had said. The
rabbi then verbalized what everyone was thinking: “If one of us is the mashiach, then we need to thoughtfully
consider our behavior and especially work on mitzvos bein adam lechaveiro (between each other) and bein adam lamakom (between ourselves and G-d).”
The rabbi concluded by saying that “the fact that the redeemer of Israel is one
of us is awe inspiring.”
The following morning the shul was
packed. It was just a regular Thursday, but the people had laundered and ironed
their clothes and polished their shoes. No one talked during davening. People
greeted each other with smiles. In the days that followed, members of the
community undertook to do more chesed.
The rabbi’s classes were full, and people found reasons to make simchas. No one ate alone on Shabbos
anymore. The shul was painted and beautified by volunteers. Within a few months,
word spread to other communities, and people from other shtetls started moving
in. Houses were being built, couples were returning, and now the shul that had
been empty was too small. By the next Rosh Hashanah, the community had become
known as the “mashiach shtetl.”
* * *
We Jews have a tremendous capacity
to influence the world. Our achievements in medicine, science, the arts, and
literature are legendary. But, more importantly, it is we, the Jews, who
brought the message of Sinai to idolaters. Over the centuries, many Jews have
forgotten the message, and as a result we are witnessing the terrible decline
of moral standards and ethical behavior. Now is an excellent time to remember
that one of us may very well be the mashiach.
