“Truth is the middle path. An inclination to the right, to be overly stringent with oneself and find faults or sins not in accord with the truth, or an inclination to the left, to be overly indulgent, covering one’s faults or being lenient in demands of avoda out of self-love – both these ways are false.”
-Hayom Yom, Chof Zayin Shevat
Buckle up tight, people. Today’s lesson—the first of two parts about Pesach—is gonna get a bit heavy.
Pesach is around the corner, and with it comes my favorite Jewish theme: Leaving your personal exile. I have been fascinated by this concept since I was a child, when my young brain pronounced the word as ex-hile, often causing me to confuse it with exhale (which is ironic, because I find that I can’t breathe very well when I feel trapped).
Exile is a heavy thing to think about, especially in a world that feels so free. But, sometimes, that which makes us feel free is not that far off from that which makes us feel like prisoners.
Take for example, consumerism. You’re free to spend your money on what you want, when you want, and how you want, but if you’re not careful, you’ll end up in steep debt, and with things that you didn’t really want in the first place. There is freedom in this scenario, in the sense that you had the choice to do whatever you wanted, but it essentially made you a slave to your credit card company.
Real freedom in this scenario is when you know what you want, you make sure you have enough money for it, and when the thought of swiping your credit card doesn’t make you feel faint and lightheaded.
The things that are meant to make you feel free, if used incorrectly or misinterpreted, will chain you down. Dare I say it, like Yiddishkiet (gasp! She didn’t. She did!)
Allow me to explain.
There is a fascinating phenomenon that I’ve noticed within the religious community, where people take on aspects of religion from a place of fear, judgement, or without an understanding what it is they’re doing and why.
Universally, it seems that we’ve all come to the same conclusion: If I keep Halacha, Hashem will have my back. If I don’t, I will be cursed forever and always, damned to the depths of hell, unworthy, and basically, a piece of junk.
Spoiler alert: Hashem will have your back regardless.
It is not the boundaries that come with keeping halacha—the no’s and the don’t’s of keeping Shabbat and keeping kosher, for example—that make you a slave, but rather the approach to it and your reasons behind it that make you a slave.
In the same way that we’ve become slaves to social media, to money, and to power, we’ve also essentially become trapped in a mentality about Yiddishkiet that takes away from the power and awesomeness of the lifestyle.
By believing that life will magically be transformed into the opening scenes of The Wizard of Oz (before the storm, before the witch) if you keep halacha (“If I keep shomer negia or if I break up with my boyfriend, Hashem will reward me with a beautiful, healthy marriage;” “If I keep Shabbos, my business will never encounter difficulties,” etc), you’ve set yourself up into a slave mentality. The reward for a mitzvah is another mitzvah. The reward for a mitzvah is not a painless, get out of jail free card life.
I hate to break it to you, but, being observant doesn’t stop you from feeling and experiencing the harsh difficulties that are part of being human. You will inevitably experience heartbreak, loss, and disappointments.
There is hope yet!
The beautiful part about an observant life is that it teaches you to observe, and be mindful about those difficult moments. Torah has a prescribed metaphysical and spiritual remedy for everything that life might throw at you. But, don’t be mistaken: Life will continue to throw things at you.
Freedom isn’t just doing whatever we want —this is being a slave to ourselves. Freedom is having self discipline, a goal and doing what’s right. But, it’s about more than that. It’s also about having the ability to connect with something greater than yourself.
The moment you make Yiddishkiet about you, and what you’ll get out of it, you’ve exchanged freedom for an orange prison jumpsuit.
Finding the key to your prison cell means acknowledging and reckoning with your truth. Taken in the wrong context or twisted into a new logic, Yiddishkiet takes the opposite form of its purpose. We’re on the right paths, but are we where we should be?
Go find that middle path, my friends…I’ll come with you. I’m still looking for mine.
Coming up next: Part 2: How to find your truth and the elusive middle….