Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

I got a call this week from a wonderful friend who is struggling with a crisis of irrelevance. As he explained it:

We’re in a strange point in the year. The Chagim are behind us, Chanukah is still a few weeks away. And the war is still raging. The world is changing at such a rapid pace, it’s hard to keep up with the news, let alone have time to think about it.

And amidst all of this, we are trying to live meaningful, productive, elevated lives. We’re trying to make a difference in our own lives, in our families and in our community. But personal progress is slow, and sometimes it feels like there is nothing we can actually do.

For all our talk about “every little bit counts”, it doesn’t always feel that way. Our struggles and challenges seem petty in the grand scheme of things. And our inability to make progress even in these areas makes us feel even less relevant.

This crisis of irrelevance is not unique to my friend. We’ve all felt it at some point; perhaps more often and more acutely since the start of the war. The question, then, is what to do about it?

Even for the greatest of people, there are moments of doubt, weakness and despair. Of course, in the stories of our heroes, these moments are the fuel that propels them to greatness; the gauntlet through which they must pass on the way to becoming who they need to be.

But, then again, stories are seldom told about the people who faded into obscurity. For those who fizzle into irrelevance, there are no books that are written, no films produced. It’s simply not a good story if there is no movement beyond the crisis.

The problem, however, is that we don’t ever know what lies beyond this particular challenge. If I succeed here, will this success final grant me the meaning I am looking for? Or perhaps, this challenge is simply a distraction. Maybe I’m crawling down the wrong rabbit hole; and who’s to say that there isn’t just some other challenge ahead – and that’s when I’ll fail, or give up?

At the level of our deepest insecurities, we ask ourselves: Is the friction I’m feeling because I’m supposed to overcome this issue? Or is this friction an indication that I’m focusing on the wrong things completely?

We are plagued by questions, doubts and fears. Is this dream, this pursuit even reasonable? Should I be pouring all my efforts into it? We teeter precariously between childish naivety and existential regret.

And just beyond the horizon of these thoughts and doubts, lies the great temptation of distraction. Of all the vices that pull at us, none are as powerful today as the infinity pools of distraction. All too often, when our minds consider the uncomfortable questions that really matter, we resolve them by turning our attention elsewhere. The news, the weather, politics, stocks – all of which are quick and excusable enough, but somehow they drag us into reels, and shorts, and scrolling for hours.

Ultimately, none of this is helpful. None of it is fulfilling. None of it gives us any clarity.

What we need then, is a better strategy; a road map for the moments of doubt and confusion. And that is precisely what Yaakov Avinu offers us in the moment of his greatest crisis of irrelevance.

A short recap: Yaakov has spent his life engrossed in the study of Torah, living with and learning from his grandfather Avraham and his father Yitzchak. As a young man, he had successfully purchased the birthright from his brother Esav; knowing that the he alone was destined to lead the next generation. With his mother’s instruction, he has impersonated Esav, deluded Yitzchak into blessing him.

But now the crisis arrives. Rather than continuing his steady rise to greatness, Yaakov finds himself on the run; alone, penniless and exhausted.

I can imagine the spiraling thoughts he might’ve entertained. How did I get here? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be... Maybe I should’ve had the courage to tell my father that I bought the birthright years ago. Maybe I should’ve denied my mother’s instructions. Am I really ready to become the next of the Avos? Avraham rediscovered monotheism, Yitzchak was willingly bound to the alter, ready to die for Hashem. And me? I’ve enjoyed a life of serenity and privilege. I’m nothing like the giants who came before me. And now, I’m fleeing from my brother, running from the Land that Hashem promised my family. Have I even achieved anything? Is any of this worthwhile?

The Beis Aharon of Karlin (ד”ה וילן שם) offers an insight as to how Yaakov dealt with these concerns; and indeed, a rare window into his own struggles:

The pasuk tells us that Yaakov lay down on that lonely mountain top – וילן שם. He lay down in defeat;

For sometimes a person feels as if the task is too difficult, and that they are getting no enjoyment from continuing; to the point that doing anything is painful. And then they are seized with disappointment, upset with themselves. In these moments, it’s easy to become depressed.

When I feel this way, I remind myself that there have been other times when I have felt incredible. Indeed, when I feel amazing, I also remind myself that there have been times when I feel discouraged and defeated.

And this is what Yaakov does: ויקח מאבני המקום – He took the stones of that place, the heaviness, the cold and hard reality of his situation; וישם מראשותיו. He placed it by his head. He thought about the cycles of ups and downs, and reminded himself that these feelings would soon pass.

The brilliance of this insight is in recognizing how the feelings we have about our challenges are a fundamentally inaccurate gauge of the correctness of our path. Feelings come and go, they change and fade.

Ultimately, the crisis of irrelevance is simply another Yetzer Hara that needs to be conquered. And if we do as Yaakov did, perhaps we too will merit to see that great ladder that extends from where we are now all the way up to Shamayim.