Every group has its inside jokes, and vasikin is no different. There is one for Pesach involving Rebbitzin Isserles, there is one for Shavuos regarding the menu, and there is some sharp mussar regarding the 11 observed days of s'firah. Twice a year there is the quite popular announcement: For those of you who appreciate the smaller things in life, sunrise was one second today than yesterday. Small though it may seem, it is a welcome respite.
This time of year also comes with a personal simcha for me, as my rav, R' Dovid Siegel, shilta, comes for his annual visit from Eretz Yisrael. I am very fortunate that he always makes time for us to discuss my "life trajectory"; how the last year went, where I feel there are particular challenges, and counsel regarding the upcoming year. I never know the precise day he will arrive, so it is always a wonderful surprise. This year even more than usual. The person who usually sits next to me is away for a family simcha and his seat is vacant save for important guests (I have been davening in the same minyan for over 24 years, bli ayin hara, so I got grandfathered into an impressive table). Imagine my delight when I realized that R' Siegel was davening next to me. Delight tinged with fear, of course; not unlike noticing you happen to have a police car behind you. Of course I immediately straightened up and and davened with more intensity. (Yes, I was struck by the irony that I am always davening before my Creator, so why should a mere human being cause me such consternation? None the less, that's the reality.)
After davening, the rav started by giving me a tremendous compliment: He had noticed that I had a few moments after finishing פםוקי דזמרה before ברכו. (Back story: I cannot read Hebrew as fast as my colleagues who have been davening since day school, so I start פםוקי דזמרה early. I start several minutes early to leave myself margin of time before the congregation catches up and we are back in sync.) The rav continued, "I said to myself: Now there is someone who doesn't want to waste even a moment!" I do pride myself on trying not to waste time, so I felt particularly encouraged.
Now, you would think I'd leave well enough alone, wouldn't you? (Of course, if you know me even a little bit, you are already rolling your eyes in anticipation of the fact that I never leave well enough alone.... sigh...) Note that my rav did not praise me for keeping kosher, nor for keeping Shabbos. Nor for davening with a minyan, nor even for davening k'vasikin. Nor for learning morning and night. That's the first lesson. From what the rav noticed (more precisely, what the rav chose to inform me that he noticed), I see where the bar is set. All those other things have slipped from praiseworthy to expected. But there's more.
There is a general rule in cross examination that the prosecuting attorney cannot broach a topic that was not opened by the defense. (At least, that's what they always said in Perry Mason and the other legal/police/detective drama shows I grew up with.) I can just see the satan getting up for cross examination, "So... Rabbi Allen... you were so careful not to waste those ever so precious few moments between פםוקי דזמרה and ברכו. Very, very impressive! Perhaps, though, you would care to explain to the Court what happened to the moments, minutes, hours, days, and years that I have documented here on this Universal (literally!) flash drive? Take your time in answering...." Yikes; I am not at all looking forward to that...
But there's more. If the little things I do well garnish such out of proportion praise, does that mean that the little things I do wrong with garnish equally out of proportion disgrace? Sometimes I worry about a whether I am doing something correctly, and I sooth myself with, "Well, even if I am wrong, by the time they get to that one I'll know we are near the end!" Hmmm... maybe not. Perhaps just at the little things I do well get noticed, so do the "little" things that are the opposite.
That is why you need a rav, and a rav who really knows you. He can encourage you to be better both with what he says and what he doesn't say.
Now, you would think I'd leave well enough alone, wouldn't you? (Of course, if you know me even a little bit, you are already rolling your eyes in anticipation of the fact that I never leave well enough alone.... sigh...) Note that my rav did not praise me for keeping kosher, nor for keeping Shabbos. Nor for davening with a minyan, nor even for davening k'vasikin. Nor for learning morning and night. That's the first lesson. From what the rav noticed (more precisely, what the rav chose to inform me that he noticed), I see where the bar is set. All those other things have slipped from praiseworthy to expected. But there's more.
There is a general rule in cross examination that the prosecuting attorney cannot broach a topic that was not opened by the defense. (At least, that's what they always said in Perry Mason and the other legal/police/detective drama shows I grew up with.) I can just see the satan getting up for cross examination, "So...
But there's more. If the little things I do well garnish such out of proportion praise, does that mean that the little things I do wrong with garnish equally out of proportion disgrace? Sometimes I worry about a whether I am doing something correctly, and I sooth myself with, "Well, even if I am wrong, by the time they get to that one I'll know we are near the end!" Hmmm... maybe not. Perhaps just at the little things I do well get noticed, so do the "little" things that are the opposite.
That is why you need a rav, and a rav who really knows you. He can encourage you to be better both with what he says and what he doesn't say.
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