Learning How to Be Wrong
Reb Levi Yitzchok of Berdichev was well known as possessing a an extreme love for the Jewish people, but also for being both brilliant and somewhat eccentric.
Berdichev was a town with more than a few non-observant Jews, and was often host to enlightened Jews, who reveled in opportunities to catch a frum Jew on some hypocrisy in their behavior, or inconsistency in their understanding of Torah and mitzvos. Many of these maskilim were exceedingly learned, well versed and brilliant in their own right. Which made them all the more dangerous to an unsuspecting minyan goer...
There was a certain maskil that had heard rumors of the brilliance of the Berdichever, and relished in the opportunity to challenge him on issues of faith and mesora and authenticity.
He arrived in town dressed as a regular Jew, and armed with well developed arguments, he asked for an appointment with the Rebbe. He was informed that the Berchiver was davening. No matter, he said, I wait on the side of the small Beis Medrash. And what a sight it was to behold. The Rebbe was eccentric beyond belief. His davening began in one corner of the room and he appeared to jump and dance with little rhyme or reason from one corner to the other.
The Maskil began to chuckle to himself. How naive the chassidim could be to think that such a person, with his oddities could possess any philosophical sophistication. Perhaps it was not worth the time to come.
One end of the room to the other, he davened and danced. And the maskil looked on, slowly drawn into the seemingly strange movements of the Rebbe. Little by little, as if in a trance, the Maskil began noticing the patterns of his arms and legs. What appeared to be random eccentrics gave way to a complex choreographed performance, with an audience of two. The maskil and Hashem.
His mind gradually emptied, his breathing relaxed. His eyed fixated on the dance. Until as if all at once, the Rebbe's face was directly in front of him. Broken out of the reverie, the Rebbe grabbed him by his collar and firmly asked: “And what if you're wrong?”
All the walls had finally come down. The Maskil stood in that little room and cried and cried. Echoing over and over in his mind: “And what if you're wrong?”
What if Avraham was Wrong?
Amongst the most difficult questions of our Parsha is attempting to understand how it could be that Hashem asked Avraham to offer his son Yitzchak as a Korban, and indeed, how Avraham could have proceeded with it.
Many have grappled with attempting to understand what Hashem was doing. But perhaps more important for us is trying to understand what Avraham was thinking.
The Rambam (מו״נ ח״ג פ׳ כ״ד) explains that there was no doubt in Avraham's mind that Hashem wanted him to offer his son Yitzchak as a sacrifice to Him.
Rebbe Nosson (הל׳ מתנה ה״ה) explains: The real problem for Avraham was that this directive from Hashem contradicted everything that he knew to be right and good and true in the world. Avraham, who spent his life educating that Hashem wants people to be good to each other and their children. Avraham who insisted on a rational and benevolent creator. Avraham who was told by Hashem Himself, that Yitzchak would be his successor. All of a sudden, he is informed with absolutely certainty that Hashem would like him to kill his son.
None of this makes sense to him. But there is no doubt in Avraham's mind that this is now the will of God.
And therein lies his challenge, and indeed ours: What do we do when the truth as we see it now contradicts the truth of yesterday? What do we do when someone challenges us: “Maybe you're wrong?”
Navigating Tension
There are three paths to take when the truth of today contradicts the truth of yesterday: We can abandon the truth of yesterday, or today, or somehow manage to live perpetually in a world of tension and confusion.
We see this conundrum in politics, religion and relationships all the time. And so acutely this week. No one accurately predicted how the US would vote – certainly not on the level or counties and states.
How many people are open and honest enough to change their minds about anything? How many times do we engage in a conversation about anything or anyone and come out with nuance and perspective, rather than simple frustration? How often are we truly ready to say: Maybe I'm wrong?
Truthfully and logically, there should a great simcha in learning we are wrong. It's a tough pill to swallow, but don't we all wish we could live with a greater understanding of truth? Don't we all hope that after 120, Hashem looks at us and says “You got it!”?
Changing Truth... Again
So what does it take to be able to hear a new, nuanced and perhaps challenging idea? How do we stay open minded?
The answer comes at the end of the story: At first, Hashem tells Avraham that somehow or another he is supposed to sacrifice his son. Essentially, that everything he thought was true, was in fact not so. At that moment, Avraham knows that it is the will of God to go through with it.
But then Hashem tells him not to sacrifice His son. The Shem Mismuel (תרע״א ענין נסיון) notes that there is an even greater challenge in this second directive. Because Chazal tell us that in order for Avraham to receive this second prophecy, he needed to be a state of calmness, self-control and simcha! (אין הנבואה שורה אלא מתוך שמחה). In the moment of greatest confusion, Avraham needed to embody total emotional and intellectual control – and barring that, he would never have been able to hear the second prophecy!
But what is true of Nevuah is true of learning or exploring anything outside of our comfort zone. In order to learn something new, we need to be calm, cool, collected, and besimcha.
Ironically, what this means is that when things are wonderful, we are open to learn that they are, in fact, terrible. But when things are really challenging, we are not open enough to hearing that they're good.
Thus Avraham's test is two fold: Firstly, can he, can we, handle being wrong? Secondly, are we still open to hearing that life is good? Essentially, the Akeida asks if we can live simultaneously in a world of tension and optimism?
I learned this lesson from an old women with dementia a few months ago.
I was at Sinai Residences, and they asked me to speak to a women in hospice, whose daughter had requested a Rabbi to visit her mom.
I sat there with the mom and daughter and heard bit and pieces of her life story. I asked how she was feeling, we sang Shalom Aleichem and said Shema together.
And then the daughter told me an amazing story that happened at breakfast that morning.
“My mom” she explained “has eaten the same breakfast for at least forty years. Two eggs over easy. But this morning, she was sitting at the breakfast table and there was a blind man sitting at the next table. The blind man asked his aid to ask her aid if perhaps they could sit together. She agreed. The waiter came past and asked: What would you like for breakfast. He replied: An omelet and hash browns.”
“She then turns to my mom and asks, what would you like; to which she responds: “I'll have what he's having.””
The daughter looked at me, and said “this has never ever happened before.” And then she continued: “My mom ate breakfast today with such excitement. And then told me: This is much better than my regular breakfast.”
The challenge of the Akeida was not simply asking if Avraham was willing to sacrifice Yitzchak. It was asking if he was willing sacrifice the version of truth that Avraham had been living. And in the moment that Avraham embraced that tension with optimism, Hashem revealed to him how great that truth could be.
This Shabbos, Hashem should help us to remain ever open and optimistic. We might just find that this breakfast tastes great.