The most quoted saying of Rav Tzadok of Lublin is probably this one: “Just as a person has to believe (have emuna) in Hashem, so he is obligated after this to believe (have emuna) in himself, that Hashem has a relationship (shaychus) with him.” This thought is especially relevant for Pesach.
The saying has, in a sense, two separate parts, which are tightly interconnected. We have to believe in ourselves, and we also have to believe that Hashem cares about us and what we do. Our day can be lived as though each experience is routine and of little importance. Or, we can live through a day, knowing that, despite the repetitive nature of things, we have the capability of raising the routine into holiness, by the thought and the intention that we instill into our actions. We cook and eat food so that we have strength to do good deeds and so that we and our family have nourishment to be able to learn well and to live a life among others that is a kiddush Hashem. Hashem has created a world of endless repetition, but we do not have to be swallowed up by the repetitiveness.
We have to believe that we are here for a particular purpose in this world, and that our piece in the universe is important and necessary. We must believe that we can succeed in our particular purpose, and that Hashem wants us to succeed. And we must believe that, if we deviate from our path in life, that Hashem wants us to turn back to Him and will facilitate this through teshuva. Some say that the main reason people do not do teshuva is that they feel that they are unworthy of being forgiven. But even if we possess sterling qualities, we are certainly out of Hashem’s league. The fact that He wants a relationship with us means that he accepts us, with all our good middos and all our faults, and is waiting for us to return.
The Haggadah tells us that in every generation, a person is obligated to regard himself (lir’os es atzmo) as if he himself went out of Egypt. Rashi brings down that 80 percent of Yaakov’s descendants were killed during the plague of darkness, and only one out of five left Mitzraim. The Netziv tells us that a nation with a special tie to Hakadosh Baruch Hu was being forged by the exodus from Egypt. The people who did not leave believed in Hashem, but they were unwilling to leave and take on the obligation of being a chosen people. One might ask what was so significant about Hashem skipping over the Jews’ homes. Wasn’t the differentiation between Jew and Egyptian more miraculous during the plagues of blood and frogs, for example? But the process of slaughtering the korban Pesach and putting blood on the doorpost was an active act by the Jews, saying, we are different; we want to be chosen to live life in a special relationship with Hashem. (Rabbi Reisman’s lecture, “Haggadah Thoughts 2,” has a beautiful presentation of this.)
There is an alternative version of this sentence from this Haggadah. It says that a person is obligated to present, or show, himself (lehar’os es atzmo) as though he himself left Mitzraim. The ability to show oneself in this way is based on internalizing the message that we each are important to Hashem, that Hashem did this for me when I left Mitzraim. This is similar in a sense to what the meraglim (spies) say when they report back to Moshe and the people: ‘We were like grasshoppers in our eyes, and so we were in their eyes.” The way one presents oneself defines in great measure how he or she is perceived. We have to internalize our importance to Hashem to allow us to live an exemplary life.
Belief in oneself also means belief that we can achieve our goals. In the eating domain, we can eat more healthfully, we can lose weight, we can live a better lifestyle. We are not constrained to our current situation.
I am writing this essay on Ta’anis Esther, and I just listened to a shiur by Rebbetzin Esther Baila (Eisemann) Schwarz. (“Insights into Purim” on torahanytime. com). She presented a new interpretation of Amalek’s goal: Parshas Zachor says, “Asher karcha baderech,” which Rashi interprets as “who cooled you off on the way….” It is usually interpreted as Amalek wanting to “cool things off.” After the sea split, the other nations, noticing changes in nature, went to Bil’am to find out what was happening. Bil’am told them that Bnai Yisrael had left Egypt and were on their way to receiving the Torah, and that the other nations could join them. Amalek wanted to dampen the enthusiasm of the other nations by showing them that Bnai Yisrael can be attacked as well (even if they themselves were defeated in the process).
Rebbetzin Schwarz applies the “cooling off” to Bnai Yisrael themselves. Amalek was telling them that they were not so great, that they were vulnerable, that they couldn’t reach the heights they might dream of. Similarly, she says that Agag, the Amalek king, mentioned in the Megillah as the ancestor of Haman, comes from the word gag, meaning roof in Hebrew. Amalek wanted to limit Bnai Yisrael’s ability to rise. They wanted to put a ceiling over them, preventing them from aspiring to and then achieving their own greatness. Our belief in ourselves and our belief in Hashem’s involvement with us has to be the antidote to this effort.â—†
Janet Sunness is medical director of the Richard E. Hoover Low Vision Rehabilitation Services at the Greater Baltimore Medical Center. Please email her at jsunness@gmail.com to provide feedback on this series. © Janet Sunness 2013
