Hindsight is 2020. But It's Also The Wrong Direction
When the Maggid of Mezritch was a young boy of 5 or 6 years, he once came home from cheder and saw his house burning down and his mother crying bitterly. To comfort her he said, “Mommy, please don’t cry, Hashem will give us a bigger, nicer home.”
His mother replied, “Berele, I am not crying because of our home, but because of our Shtar Yuchsin, the document of our ancestry, which describes our beautiful family tree. Now, because of the fire, we no longer have it.”
Upon hearing this, young Berele said, “Please don't cry: if our old yichus letter was destroyed, with Hashem's help, a new yichus will start with me.”
Indeed, the Maggid (whose Yahrzeit is 19 Kislev) built an empire of Torah and Chassidus, imbued with this spirit: Regardless of whatever has been, we begin again now.
Truthfully, however, we have a far more complex relationship with our pasts, both nationally, and personally. It is neither simple nor advisable to neglect our rich and often fraught histories. For Yaakov Avinu, his past catches us with him this Shabbos.
For decades he has avoided his brother; avoided facing the rage, and disappointment, and betrayal of taking his Bracha. He has questioned his own worthiness, and whether he will accomplish the great task of establishing a Jewish nation.
But Yaakov's encounter with his past occurs in two stages: The challenge of facing Esav in the day, and the challenge of facing the Malach – the concept – of Esav at night.
How telling is it then, that Yaakov's nighttime battle is the far more frightening, dangerous and mysterious one? Is it not the same for us? That our internal, psychological, existential battles are far more frightening and consequential than facing the realities of the day.
The daytime encounter with Esav is tense, but everyone leaves in peace. In the nighttime battle, Yaakov engages, and is injured in his leg – the source of our prohibition of eating the Gid Hanashe -the sciatic nerve.
But as morning comes and Yaakov prevails, the angel pleads with Yaakov to allow him to go. Yaakov refuses – “I will only let you leave if you bless me.” The angel responds by changing Yaakov’s name to Yisrael: “He who fights with God and with men and prevails.”
Yaakov then asks the angel: “What is your name?” “Why do you ask my name?”, he responds. The angel then blesses Yaakov, and takes his leave.
What Do We Gain From The Challenges We Face?
We, too, experience unexpected difficulties, and all too acutely this year. Our challenges come in a plethora of forms, health, parnassa, family, marriage, and raising children.
Sometimes, even when we are victorious, we are injured. It is not infrequent that the hard knocks of life biggest challenges leave us drained; physically, emotionally and financially. But when the morning comes; as it always does eventually, then things become clearer, and the time comes for us to let go of the challenges.
This is often the hardest part. Throughout the long nights of fighting, we grow to identify with the struggle, and when the time comes to move on we often wonder where to go next.
Yaakov, too, realizes that he must let go of his demons, but insists “Bless me!” Show me how I have gained from this encounter, how has this been worth it. And the angel blesses him by adding that he has indeed become a new and different person. We too are charged with this task of learning from past experiences.
But then Yaakov asks: “What is your name? What can I call you?” I cannot let go of my struggle without naming it, giving it it’s own identity, it’s own place in my life. It is at this final request that the angel bristles. “Why do you ask for my name?”
The Ramban explains: > אמר אין לך בידיעת שמי תועלת כי אין הכח והיכולת בלתי לה' לבדו אם תקראני לא אענך וגם מצרתך לא אושיעך אבל עתה אברך אותך כי כן צוותי > The angel was telling Yaakov that his name is irrelevant. No amount of invoking the name of your adversity will assist your growth – there is no power in that. If you want to grow further, you will need to turn to God. I cannot save you, I cannot answer you.
Effectively, the angel is telling Yaakov, any future growth lies in your present and future and your relationship with Hashem. It’s not in your past.
Brushing off the chips on our shoulders
We grow up with chips on our shoulders and we formulate our identities around them. These past experiences are instructive and instrumental and so we become attached to them. The Torah is telling us, children of Yaakov, Bnei Yisrael, that we need to let go. As Rav Kook notes (עין איה ברכות אות ח׳): Pain and suffering are the result of living in an unhealthy way. The goal of these experiences is to transcend them.
This does not mean that our past is unimportant. The Torah tells that we need to remember the injuries of the past, we are a people with very deeps roots. We are commanded to remember Yaakov's battle by not eating the Gid Hanashe.
Nevertheless, Rav Moshe Feinstein (דרש משה) explains that the Torah chooses to memorialize the struggle with the angel with a negative commandment (not eating gid hanasheh), as opposed to a positive commandment.
This is to indicate that as great as it is to overcome our challenges, it is even better if there was no nisayon at all (as we say every morning in birchos hashachar “שלא נבוא לידי ניסיון”).
We don’t deify our past challenges. We remember them, and move on.
A positive commandment would give the message that we embrace the nisayon, whereas a negative commandment gives the message that we don’t want the challenges.
Overcoming Our Inadequacies
Of course, the need to move on and transcend our past applies to many of us in own personal, religious, and familial lives as well. We all too often assume that since we were not privileged to have a complete Jewish education, or the kind of home that we are trying to provide for our children, that we are somehow forever disadvantaged.
To that point, my Rebbe, Rav Blachman told us a story of the Rebbe, Reb Hirsch Meshareis, who was not a descendant of a rabbinical dynasty. His father was a simple baker.
When all the rebbes got together and sat around the table speaking about what their heiliger zeides said, and asked Reb Hirschel what his grandfather said, he told them, “I don’t know what my grandfather said, but I’ll tell you what my father said: ‘Fresh bagels are much better than old bagels.’”
And thus we, like the young Maggid of Mezrich need to accept the challenge of restarting ourselves, baking our own fresh bread, and letting go of the forces that fight us throughout the nights of our lives.
The passage of time might give us the gift of 2020 hindsight, but Yaakov insists we understand, stop looking behind you. It's the wrong direction.