לו חכמו ישכילו זאת יבינו לאחריתם
Were they wise they would comprehend this, they would discern it from their end. (32:29)
The yetzer hara, evil inclination, is a cunning master of persuasion. It is constantly attempting to ensnare us to change, modernize, let go of our old-fashioned ways, and abandon the restrictions that comprise a Torah lifestyle. By embracing the ways of the world, we will be happier, more satisfied, and especially freer and unencumbered by tradition.
Some listen — slowly at first. A mitzvah is neglected here, a tradition/custom discarded there, and, before long, we realize — we have become full-fledged slaves of the yetzer hara. By the time we realize that we have been the victims of (self) deception, it is too late.
We have lost the joy and fulfillment which are the hallmarks of a life dedicated to Torah. We no longer have the critical connection with the eternal verities of a life guided by Torah and mitzvos. The children that we hoped would have a better life, more cultured, more accepted, a part of the world society, have grown up alienated, without Torah values, lacking a sense of destiny, and real hope for the future. The spiritual link that has connected generations has been severed. Marriages are a sham and families are almost non-existent.
I know that all this sounds repetitive, and, for a Torah Jew, it is redundant, but I just finished a session with my chavrusa, who sadly is a victim of the yetzer hara. He finally came full circle and conceded that he had messed up; he had been duped, and, now, at this stage of life, he has nothing — no marriage, no children, no hope. (He’s married — if it could be considered a marriage. He has children who have also opted for such marriages. His grandchildren are not halachically Jewish. So, what does he have?) Therefore, I feel compelled to cite the well-known mashal, parable of the Kaf HaChaim (Yismach Yisrael Chelek Bais 361).
A man was married to a wonderful, wise, discerning woman who was replete with middos tovos, refined character traits. He realized how fortunate he was to have such a special wife. On a business trip, he spent the night in an inn where, as a result of an extraordinary deal that he made, he decided to celebrate the day with a little wine. A little wine soon became too much wine, until the man was completely inebriated. It happened that the innkeeper had a daughter who sadly was challenged both in her comely appearance and cognitive ability. She was neither very pretty, nor very smart. As a result, her father did not have a long list of suitors for her hand in marriage. When he saw that the traveler was no longer in control of his faculties, he decided to convince him to take a second wife. He succeeded and, that night, they made a “l’chaim”- After all, what was one more drink? The next morning, it dawned on the man that he had made a grave mistake. What was he to do? He decided to turn to the one person who had always given him the best advice: his wife.
He related the entire story, including his drinking which resulted in his being victimized by the girl’s father. His wife gave him what appeared to be strange advice: “Marry her immediately. I will move out for thirty days. During this time, you must spend all your time with your new wife. Absolutely do not contact me.” Her husband knew that his wife was a special woman, but so selfless? He could not believe what he heard. The wife cleaned up the house and prepared it for the new couple. On the day of their wedding, she moved out.
We must remember that the last time the man had seen his bride was a quick glimpse when he was in an inebriated state. When the veil was lifted and he took a second look, es iz em gevoren finster in de oigen, he went into total shock. Nu, looks are not everything.
As long as she was intelligent, he would look at her inner beauty. Unfortunately, her cognitive skills left much to be desired. It was impossible to carry on a conversation with her. Thirty days of this, and he would have a breakdown- which he almost had. During this entire time, all he thought of was his “first” wife and how he had hurt her. He could not continue like this, and, after the “shloshim,” he issued his second wife a divorce.
The nimshal, lesson to be derived, is quite obvious. The Torah is our eishas chail, which protects us from, and guides us in navigating: the challenges of life. The yetzer hora’s attempts to have us turn our backs on our “wife,” and defer to physical desires, telling us that the grass is greener elsewhere. It does not, of course, delineate the consequences of giving into the momentary “liberation” from the restrictive behavior which is part and parcel of the obedience of Torah life. The yetzer hora is careful to conceal the slow spiritual death resulting from the abandonment of Torah. One reckless decision leads to the downward spiral that characterizes the scourge of Haskalah, Enlightenment, and the secular streams of (what they call) Judaism.
One can call himself a religious Jew, but his brand of religion is far from Jewish. A couple may remain married, but their relationship lacks depth and fidelity. A family can exist, but the richness associated with Yiddishkeit/Torah nachas is gone. My friend and I compared nachas. My grandson made a siyum on the three Bavos; his grandson pitched a shutout on Shabbos for his college baseball team. He made his decision years ago, not realizing how fractured and meaningless his future would be. Instead of serving as a wellspring of avodas Hashem as a legacy for our descendants, they leave them with a void of what a Torah life could have been had they been thinking about the acharis, end.
At times the acharis, end, can inspire and transform the beginning. David Rosen was raised in an assimilated Jewish home where Judaism was nothing more than a mere cultural memory-not a living heritage with a meaningful and purposeful destiny. David was a bright student with a promising future, but with little to no meaning in his life. He visited a Chabad house on campus for a Friday night meal, and something within him stirred. A spark was waiting to be ignited and stoked into a passionate flame.
He returned often, during which his inspiration motivated him to observe Shabbos, don Tefillin, keep kosher dietary laws, until he became fully observant, having embraced all the mitzvos. His family thought that he had become unhinged. His friends ridiculed him. He did not care, because he answered to a Higher Authority. While he loved his parents, he could not ignore that his spiritual life had taken a different trajectory than theirs. Their relationship was respectful, but reserved, until David's father was diagnosed with a terminal disease.
David no longer was just a son visiting his dad, but a beacon of light and hope during his months of pain and fear of this dread disease. He sat by his father’s bed, reciting Tehillim, watching the chemicals dripping into his father’s veins. He spoke of hope, faith, and love for Hashem. During those final weeks of his father’s life, David engendered hope and dignity. Then, something unbelievable and totally unexpected occurred. David’s father asked him to help him put on Tefillin. He knew that he could not change his past, but if he could somehow infuse his future, albeit short, with meaning, he would try. They prayed together daily until his father passed away with Shema Yisrael as his final words.
David’s mother and sister were moved by the transformation, and the religion that they had so erroneously shunned became a beacon of light and hope to them. The entire family became observant, because David refused to allow the status quo of his upbringing to define his future-his acharis.
Yavinu l’acharisam - to think about where life is heading: to a siyum ha’shas or a perfect ballgame. He who approaches the future rationally realizes that all the freedoms and frills which the yetzer hora has promised are vacuous and empty, devoid of truth.
It is never too late to reclaim one’s lost legacy. By connecting with his heritage, he may prevent a disastrous future for him and his family.
