Last week, in these pages, we discussed the very concerning proliferation of divorce in our community and, more generally, shalom bayis difficulties.
After all is said and done, it boils down to middos, basic middos, mentchlichkeit, transcending oneself and not thinking that the entire world is here to serve “me and my needs.”
The life of a single person, whether it is a bochur in a dormitory, a bochur in a dirah in Eretz Yisroel, or a girl who is busy with her own life, her own needs, and her own projects, is, in many ways, a very selfish life. Even the chesed one does is done when one chooses to do it and in the amount one chooses to do it.
Now, there are some maalos to being “selfish.” For example, when a bochur is young and decides that he wants to learn, really shteig, and become great in learning, there is selfishness in that too. “I want to become great. I want to know the entire Torah. I want to get the best Olam Haba possible. I want people to realize that I know Shas.”
Yes, the bochur might have come to the realization that Torah and ruchniyus are paramount, but only from the viewpoint that it is all about my Torah and my ruchniyus.
Stepping Out of the “Me” World
I once heard someone say that it is not possible to be an adolescent and not be selfish. What is adolescence? It is all about progressing from being a child to an adult. It is about forging your own identity. To do that, you must try to figure out who “I” am. Who is the “me” that I want to be? There is selfishness inherent in that journey.
And then comes a point where you have to go beyond the “me” that you are trying to become and think in broader terms. Those broader terms include thinking about what Hashem really wants from you—not just what you want from your avodas Hashem, but what Hashem wants from you…the entire you.
Often, during one’s teenage and young adulthood years, the real bein adam lachaveiro muscles, the real mentchlichkeit muscles, are not actually put to the test. They can get very flabby, very out of shape, without the person even realizing it.
After all, a bochur can think, “I am doing great. I learn during seder, and sometimes I even learn more than just the regular sedorim. I usually daven with a minyan. I try (most of the time) not to scream too loudly when my roommate is sleeping. I am doing okay.”
A girl may similarly pat herself on the back, thinking, “I am a good friend. I engage with friends all the time. I am gracious. I participate in chesed initiatives. I am pretty good.”
And, in truth, these thoughts are pretty good, but they are on your terms. They are the things you do when you are still baal habayis over your own time.
Marriage: A Middos Workshop
Marriage can be compared to a workshop on middos where you are not your own baal habayis for even a minute. Not only that, but you suddenly have to share your entire world—erev vavoker vetzohoroyim—with another person.
You might think that you are a good bochur or a good girl, but, in reality, you have never been tested. Not only that, but as accustomed as you are to being a good bochur or good girl, you do not really have much life experience in how to interact with a spouse. Yes, our spouses are different genders, are created differently, grew up in different homes, and speak a “different language.”
For example, it is not uncommon for one spouse to find something hilarious while the other does not find it even slightly amusing.
Recently, my friend’s daughter and son-in-law were discussing a story CD. My friend told me that his daughter remarked, “These recordings are not funny at all. They are really bochurishe humor.”
At the same time, her husband chimed in, “They are really funny!”
Everyone burst out laughing, but the point was made.
The Meraglim Were Great People, Right?
Now, before we return to the point, I would like to detour to this week’s parsha and the meraglim. There is a very important idea from the Chiddushei Harim regarding the meraglim. It is a vort about which a talmid of Rav Shlomo Wolbe quoted Rav Wolbe as saying that the way the Chiddushei Harim explained the sin of the meraglim is the way we are supposed to learn pshat in the sugya.
The Chiddushei Harim asked about the meraglim as follows: They were such great people, right? Rashi teaches us that the meraglim truly were great men. How, then, could they have fallen so precipitously?
The Chiddushei Harim answers his own question, saying that the meraglim were indeed great people who had very good intentions when they discouraged the Bnei Yisroel from entering Eretz Yisroel.
What were their good intentions? The meraglim saw how the Yidden in the midbar were living in an incomparable spiritual oasis. They were learning Torah from Moshe Rabbeinu. They were drinking water from the be’er of Miriam. They were eating monn, the most spiritual of foods, which not only did not bring them down as gashmiyus usually does, but actually elevated them to unprecedented heights. They had no worries, no tirdos of parnossah. In short, they were living the most idyllic, beautiful, spiritual life possible.
They were in the best yeshiva or kollel in the world. They had the best rebbi—Moshe Rabbeinu. The meraglim were worried. “What will happen when we go to Eretz Yisroel? We will have to engage in parnossah, the hard work of going out and making a living. We will be forced to eat regular, gashmiyusdige food. We will not have time to learn from Moshe Rabbeinu as we are doing now. Will Klal Yisroel really be able to have Hashem in mind while engaging in the mundane? Will they really be able to understand that, yes, even when someone is working, engaging in parnossah, and involved in the daily grind of working the fields, growing, harvesting, grinding, and interacting with vendors, middlemen, and customers, he can think about Hashem as well?”
The meraglim therefore put themselves in great danger, going so far as to risk losing their own Olam Haba and losing everything for what they thought was the benefit of Klal Yisroel.
Yes, they meant well, says the Chiddushei Harim, but they made one fundamental mistake. What was their mistake?
Our job, the Chiddushei Harim explained, is not to tell Hashem what is best for Him to do. Our job is to listen, whether we understand or not. Our job is not to give eitzos to Hashem. It is to listen and follow His instructions with temimus, even when it seems that we know better.