Now, as always is a good time to work on middos.
I can't believe it. I did it again!
Why do we seem to stumble over the same areas time after
time? We insult someone, daven without kavonoh,
let some loshon hora slip out, and then we
sincerely regret it. Hopefully, we go through all the steps
of teshuva and honestly expect never to repeat such
behavior. But often we get caught in familiar patterns, act
without thinking, and make the same mistakes again. Why is
this? And more importantly, what can we do about it?
The Meiri in his Chibur Hateshuva brings a moshol
for this. A novice gardener was cutting down the weeds in
his garden with a pair of shears. He looked at his clean lawn
with satisfaction. All the weeds were gone. A week later, he
looked back at his garden, and much to his chagrin the weeds
had returned. What happened? Confused, he asked a
professional gardener for an explanation. He calmly replied,
"You can't just cut the weeds down, you have to pick them
from the roots."
By merely addressing our actions, we're not getting to the
roots. Every aveiroh has a root. The source of all
problems is middos. So, in order to do the teshuva
that will help ensure no repeat performances, we must
work on our middos. In fact, in Hilchos Teshuva
the Rambam states that our major responsibility is to do
teshuva for dei'os ro'os, faulty character
traits.
Let's take an example. Many people have begun studying two
halachos of loshon hora every day. HaRav Avraham Pam
zt'l said that this is not enough. To really conquer
the habit of negative speech, we must get to the root of our
problem, i.e. inadequate ahavas Yisroel. If we love
our fellow Jew as ourselves, we won't speak disparagingly of
him, just as we wouldn't speak loshon hora about
ourselves.
Working on one's middos is the proper fulfillment of
the mitzvah of veholachto biderochov, you should go in
His ways. Sometimes we may feel we have perfected a certain
midda and that there is not much left to work on. If
we keep in mind veholachto biderochov, we'll remember
to Whom we are comparing ourselves and how far we have to
go.
Maybe I do chessed and give my bedridden neighbor
dinner once a week, but this certainly does not compare to
Hashem's immeasurable kindness, feeding the whole world every
day, continuously. Does our patience compare to Hashem's? Our
self-control? Upon self- analysis, we'll be forced to admit
that we have far to go. A lifetime, in fact.
In the yeshiva of Kelm, each talmid was given a five-
year assignment to work on one midda. Only after that
five-year period of serious contemplation, analysis, and
application was the talmid considered to have mastered
that particular midda.
In Hilchos Dei'os the Rambam discusses where middos
stem from. Some are innate characteristics of a person,
similar to one's innate physical features (such as hair color
and facial features). But some middos are learned from
others or adopted, just as a person can adopt physical
features (such as hair style or weight gain).
It is much easier to rid oneself of adopted characteristics.
Just as they were learned, they can be unlearned. Divesting
oneself of innate middos is a much more arduous task.
Each person has a unique composition of middos, so
each one has his own path to self-perfection.
If and when we do stumble even after working on ourselves, we
must see this as a perfect opportunity for introspection.
Think. Why did I behave that way or respond like that? By
honestly facing ourselves and figuring out the source and
thought patterns that led to our behavior, we can get to the
root of the problem. Then we can begin truly working on that
midda.
With effort, good middos will become natural to us,
just as they are to Hashem. And once we've pulled out all
those weeds, we'll be left with a beautiful garden.
However, just as a gardener works on one patch of grass at a
time, we must concentrate on one midda at a time.
We tend to want to work on everything at once. There is a big
problem in this. Namely, it's overwhelming. How can I become
the image I see of the perfect tzaddik or
tzaddeikes, when in reality I am impatient, selfish,
lazy, and pessimistic? It's impossible! So why bother?!
If we focus on one thing at a time, we'll slowly chip away at
it. We'll be so in tune to that one area that we'll notice
many opportunities to polish that particular midda.
And it will be easier to get to the root of why we are
acting that way, and thereby improve.
So to reach self-perfection, we must perfect our
middos. But how do we acquire good middos? By
acting with good middos, repeating our actions,
analyzing our behavior, and relentlessly incorporating good
middos into our lives. It does not come easy, but
nothing good does!
Ga'avoh -- Deflating our Swollen Hearts
"I'm so proud of you! You were the best in the whole
class."
"Your boss awarded you Best Worker of the Year out of all
your co-workers? You should be proud of yourself."
"How could you let him talk to you like that? Have you no
pride?"
Pride. Something to earn, something to defend, something to
flaunt. And something that is all too often hurt. But what is
it, this intangible term that the western world has inflated
and Judaism has always downgraded?
Pride is a feeling of being better or more important than
someone else. It is a feeling that "I should be treated
better than him, because I am better than him." It is an
inaccurate standard, wherein one is measuring himself in
comparison to someone else.
But what is the root of this feeling? Is there any validity
to feelings of superiority?
In his famous Igeres, the Ramban states: "Kol
hamisgo'eh al habriyos, mispo'er hu belevush Malchus
Shomayim." Anyone who feels superior to others is
adorning himself with the garments of Heavenly Royalty - -
because pride is the cloak of Hashem (Hashem moloch gei'us
loveish). Pride belongs to Hashem, so we have no right to
don that garment.
Our middos are our garments. In Olom Habo, what
is outside will be inside and what is inside will be outside.
All of our feelings and attitudes will be in plain view for
all to see. We have all seen great people who have a shining
countenance. All they are made of and what they have
developed into is displayed outwardly. What do we want others
to see in us? Are we ready to display our true selves to the
public? If not, then we'd better get to work. Perfecting
middos takes a lifetime. Ga'avoh is a good
place to start since it is the root of so many other negative
character traits.
Without serious toil in combating ga'avoh, a person
could live his whole life with a faulty perception of himself
and of life's purpose. Rav Ruderman zt'l once visited
an old friend from Slobodke who was dying. On his deathbed,
the man turned to Rav Ruderman and asked, "Nu? What do you
think? Will there be a crowd at my funeral?"
After a lifetime habit of tuning into what others were
thinking about him, of making sure people realized his
importance, on this last day of his life, this man was
worried about his kovod!
Rav Avrohom Schur zt'l relates a story that he
witnessed when he was privileged to be hosted by the Alter of
Slobodke for Rosh Hashana. The Alter and his wife davened
in different shuls Rosh Hashana day. They were
supposed to meet afterwards, but the rebbetzin finished first
and had to wait longer than expected. Seated at the table,
she expressed how upset she felt.
For several moments, the Alter did not respond, but just
looked downward. Finally, the Alter said that there is a
gemora in Brochos that tells of the wife of a
certain chossid who got upset at him on Erev Rosh
Hashana. He went to the cemetery, lay down, and listened to
the secrets of Hashem.
Why did he go to the cemetery? Why lay down with the
deceased? This chossid had felt a tinge of hurt from
his wife's words. Aware of his hurt feelings, he realized
that something was missing in his personal development. If he
was insulted by his wife's words, that indicated that he
thought he was important. The only way to combat this feeling
was to put himself amongst the dead. A humbling
experience.
The Alter was saying that if one feels insulted, it is a sign
of imperfection. Being insulted is an indication of
ga'avoh. I am important, and you did not take that
into consideration, so I take offense.
If you want to know whether or not you have ga'avoh,
think about whether you get insulted. How often do your
feelings get hurt? Over what are you offended? The more we
take note of our reactions to others, the more aware we will
be of our personality. Then -- and only then -- can we work
towards self-perfection.
Now we know what ga'avoh is and can determine if this
midda needs work. How do we rid ourselves of hurt
feelings? How do we extract pride from our swollen hearts?
One way is through visualization. Imagine you are on an
airplane ascending into the clouds. Look out the window and
notice how small the buildings below are becoming.
Skyscrapers look like matchboxes, cars like ants. From 30,000
feet up, people are almost nonexistent. How significant are
we in the scheme of things?
Another tool is contemplating Hashem's upper worlds. There
are a billion mal'ochim who are saying Koddosh,
Koddosh. And here I am, a lowly human, getting insulted
over some minor interaction. If we realize how unimportant
such dealings are in comparison to what is going on in the
world, we may gain a more healthy -- and more realistic --
perspective.
Another method of disregarding insults (and thus discarding
ga'avoh) is to think into the future. Today I feel
offended, but how will I feel tomorrow? By Rosh Hashana, will
this still bother me? By putting ourselves beyond the moment,
we can change our whole outlook. It does take work but, as we
have said previously, all good things do.
Imagine a life in which insults slide right off of us. A life
in which we are not so concerned with how others view us, but
how Hashem views us. It is certainly a much simpler life, and
deep down we all know that it is closer to the truth.
Ga'avoh -- The Foolish Barrier
We began our analysis of ga'avoh by focusing in
particular on how easily we get insulted and how that is a
gauge of whether or not we have ga'avoh. We will now
focus on the foolishness of ga'avoh, how it separates
us from Hashem, and from people.
Rashi quotes the famous midrash in Bereishis
describing a conversation between the moon and Hashem.
At first, Hashem made two great lights. But when the moon
protested that a king cannot have two crowns and that he (the
moon) should be bigger, Hashem shrank him, leaving the sun to
continue to shine in its full glory.
The purpose of the world is to reveal Hashem's kovod.
We tend to think that our successes and talents are due
to our own efforts. If we take claim of that kovod,
we're taking it away from Hashem, chas vesholom.
Regarding a proud person, Hashem says, "Ein Ani vehu
yecholim lodur be'olom achas, he and I cannot live in one
world." The proud person will end up the same as the shrunken
moon.
Let's take a look at spiritual accomplishments. Who gets
credit for those?
Whenever a person is engaged in a mitzvah, the yetzer hora
is hard at work, devising ways to foil his plans. The
gemora in Kiddushin says that without
assistance from Above, we simply cannot overcome the
yetzer hora, which is continually working to outsmart
us. We need tremendous amounts of siyata deShmaya. Not
to say that we get no credit for spiritual accomplishments,
but the credit we deserve is like the final brush of a
finished painting.
Two beings are responsible for my actions: Hashem and me. Who
is more responsible (and therefore gets more kovod
for) my actions? If I take some credit, then whatever is left
is for Hashem. If I take 80 percent credit, Hashem is left
with 20 percent. If I take 90, He has 10.
In Shaarei Teshuva, Rabbeinu Yonah comments on the
posuk "To'avas Hashem kol geva lev" (someone haughty
is repugnant to Hashem). He says that this person will not
receive help from Above, because he has pushed Hashem away.
Without help from Above, one is in the hands of the yetzer
hora. He has put himself into a hopeless situation.
So we see that taking credit for one's successes is foolish.
This foolishness stems from a problematic way of thinking,
the creation of an invalid standard. The basis of this
standard is twofold: 1. an inward perception of oneself, and
2. a perception of how others perceive oneself. Both of these
deny reality, because the only true standard is how Hashem
perceives us.
Hashem rates our accomplishments relative to our personal
potential. Perhaps we feel we have done well, but Hashem
knows that we could have done better.
To put this into practice, let's take the example of
chessed. I may feel so proud that I helped my ill
neighbor, and others may also be impressed with me. But how
much of my brain did I use in this chessed? (Science
has proven that most people use less than 10 percent of their
brains.) How much of my heart was there? There can always be
more. By focusing on how well we are doing in Hashem's
"eyes," and not in our peers' eyes, we will get closer to
fulfilling our potential.
If we realize that we are here to serve Hashem and give Him
kovod, we will be less preoccupied with taking it for
ourselves. On a continuous basis, we could be vehicles to
bring about Hashem's glory. Every act we do could be an
opportunity to extend Hashem's kindness and increase the
world's awareness of His kindness.
Not only does ga'avoh distance us from Hashem, but it
also makes rifts between friends. All too often we are
concerned with making sure that the world realizes how
impressive we are. We become obsessed with how we appear to
the world. When we enter a disagreement, we do whatever we
can to prove our side and maintain the image we have built of
ourselves. If, in the middle of the heated debate, we
suddenly see that we were actually wrong, maybe we'll admit
that the other side was right. Rarely do we go so far as to
declare that we were wrong. That would take away from our
sense of self, i.e. ga'avoh.
Here we have another gauge to measure our level of
ga'avoh. Throughout the day, take note of
disagreements. Do we admit that we were wrong?
When we stop and realize that many arguments stem from
unyielding pride, it will be easier for us to consider the
possibility of being wrong. To enhance our daily
conversation, we must try to understand and value the other
side's point of view.
Hillel Hazokein was a humble man. When telling over his
dispute with others, he would first present the other side.
Then he would state, "but I think like this." As we know, the
halacha goes according to Hillel, because he presented the
other side first.
Let us emulate Hillel and take the other side into serious
consideration. This act of anovoh will make room for
Hashem's kovod, and will consequently bring us more
siyata deShmaya, which we so desperately need. In
essence, ridding ourselves of ga'avoh is the only
reasonable way to come close to Hashem and close to
others.
Rabbi Dovid Segal is rosh kollel Toras Chaim in Kiryat
Sefer and formerly a rosh kollel in Chicago.
