Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

It started with an announcement:

“We’d like to remind you that American Airlines has a quiet-cabin policy. Please ensure that your devices are on mute, or connected to headphones.”

That announcement was directed at the family sitting directly across the aisle from me. It was a mom and two teenage kids.

Before take off, mom had already donned her oversized noise cancelling headphones, loaded up some show on her phone, and left her two kids to bicker over the device she had handed them. The device was on full volume, and their fight over “who’s turn it was to pick” was in what could only be be described as “outdoor voices.”

Neither the mom, nor her kids took heed of the announcement. A few minutes later, a stewardess came by to reiterate the policy. This time it sounded more like a warning.

The mom glared at her kids, then looked back at the stewardess with a look of annoyance that said “why’d ya think I got these headphones?”

They quietened down... slightly.

When the service cart came around, mom was sure to order the largest bottle of wine on offer, which she promptly drank, just before fixating on the phone in front of her once again.

I watched all this happen next to me, with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

My first thought was that I guess I’m not such a terrible dad. At the very least, I’m not actively tuning out my unsocialized adolescent children while day drinking in public at the back of economy class.

A moment later I was overcome with a feeling of loss and sadness for this family.

I imagined how this exasperated parent never planned on becoming so disaffected. She probably dreamed of enjoying time with her kids, teaching them whatever value system she subscribed to. Or perhaps she had no idea what to expect from raising children; but the odds are that is wasn’t this.

I thought of all the little moments that might have lead to this abject hopelessness. No one wakes up one morning and decides to be an ineffective parent. It’s a steady stream of little decisions; a confluence of tiny choices that gravitated towards convenience and avoided conflict. No doubt, all of them felt justified in that moment.

Perhaps we’re not all that different, this mom and me. I too have made choices from a place of exasperation and exhaustion. How many little things have to go slightly wrong before disfunction is the new normal?

The good news however, is that it works in both directions. Small decisions to provide attentiveness, love, care and empathy can slowly transform a life, a child, a relationship.

Perhaps this is what Hashem is teaching us at the beginning of our Parsha:

וְהָיָה  עֵקֶב תִּשְׁמְעוּן אֵת הַמִּשְׁפָּטִים הָאֵלֶּה – And if you do listen these rules and observe them carefully,

If we will listen to the mitzvos of Hashem, we will be blessed with health, wealth and safety.

But which mitzvos exactly? Rashi here comments on the strangeness of the word עֵקֶב in the pasuk, noting that:

אִם הַמִּצְווֹת קַלּוֹת שֶׁאָדָם דָּשׁ בַּעֲקֵבָיו תשמעון – If, even the lighter commands which a person usually treads on with his heels (i.e. which a person is inclined to treat lightly), you will pay attention to,...

Material, familial and national success are born out of the little things.

Life, the Torah tells us, is not a highlight reel. It isn’t composed of unforgettable events, flashy outings and perfect meals. Life is the relentless pursuit of finding meaning in insignificant moments.

These are the mitzvos that Hashem is telling us we need to hear.

If this is still feeling a little abstract, here’s an exercise we can do to hone in on the little things:

What is the smallest mitzvah you can do right now? (For this experiment, small means the thing that is both quickest and most accessible. Something you can with barely any movement or effort.)

Sometimes, I’ll take a moment to ask myself: Do you need to make a bracha? A bracha achrona? Can you say it with a bit more focus and intention? Is there a person nearby that you can greet with a smile? Can you ask them how they’re doing and actually care to hear?

Can you turn to Hashem and say thank you for something you take for granted? Or perhaps direct that gratitude to your spouse, children, parents or siblings?

Now, imagine doing that a few times every day. Imagine making that into a habit. Imagine being known as the person that would always do that thing.

That’s how we become different people and better people.

Rav Kook writes (אורות התורה ג:ח): שֶׁנָּכוֹן לֵאמֹר עִם “מַה גָּדְלוּ מַעֲשֶׂיךָ ד'” גַּם כֵּן בְּרֹב הִשְׁתּוֹמְמוּת “מַה קָּטְנוּ מַעֲשֶׂיךָ ד'” – In the same way that a person must declare Hashem’s greatness, he must also recognize Hashem’s smallness. That is to say, how Hashem’s presence can be found in the majesty of the cosmos as well as in the delicate intricacies that can only be seen under a microscope.

All this is to say that the greatest blessings and the most painful challenges are waiting on the other side of the decision to make tiny changes. Hashem should give us all the vision to see the choices we have, and the courage to choose with integrity.