We had our two year old grandson over for the Shabbos morning s'uda yesterday. As fourth of five and with a new baby brother, he doesn't get much individual attention; so we thought it would be nice for him, his parents, his siblings, and us. We were correct; it was a win, win, win, win situation. I walked him home. He likes to stop at every garage door, knock, then I have to answer "no one's home", then we move on. Between stops he runs -- zero to sixty in a flash -- much faster than I walk. However, he also falls regularly, so I can still keep up. It reminded me that the mom was constantly ironing knee patches on my jeans growing up. Of course, I haven't had a scraped knee in years.
Except last week. I was on the treadmill and lost my footing, being carried off that back. That's not how I scraped my knee. I collected myself, stood on the rails straddling the moving treadmill. "It's not moving that fast," I reasoned. (OK, perhaps "reasoned" is the wrong verb, as there was very little reason to what I did next.) "I'll just step back on and start running," I further "reasoned" (same comment). I did, in fact, step back on. I did, in fact, start running. It was, of course, just a bit slower than the treadmill was moving. I went flying back and this time did skin my knee.
To save some face, I contemplated the mussar of the situation. I have often been bothered by the verse in משלי/Proverbs:
Rather, the deeper meaning is that to become a צַדִּיק, one must fall and rise, fall and rise; time after time. It is that rising from the fall that transforms/build a צַדִּיק out of an ordinary person. It is giving up and accepting the fall that turns an ordinary person into an evildoer. (Not my original thought; from Pachad Yitzchak.) What bothers me about this p'shat? Seven times. Are you kidding me? I'd love to find some sort of success after seven falls. I've even tried counting. I fall a lot more than seven times for even the smallest progress. I'm still working on some things after decades. Now, perhaps you want to tell me that seven represents complete. (There are seven days of creation, Chanuka is eight days -- so above nature; etc.) I am good with that... that the verse does say seven.
Then it hit me (yes; pun intended). In halacha, something that is an inevitable consequence is is considered good as done. You can't fall if you don't get up. Obvious, right? When I stepped back on that treadmill, I had done nothing different than the first time. It was an inevitable consequence that I would fall; therefore, I never got up. I didn't fall a second time -- I was experiencing one long fall. When we think we are trying to do t'shuva but don't actually try a different approach, don't try a meaningful change... the inevitable fall is not a new fall but just part of the same long falling we've been experiencing all along. Those 10s and 100s of falls... those years and decades of failures are not a contradiction to the words of Shlomo HaMelech, because we haven't gotten up -- really gotten up -- seven times; we are just experiencing one or two or three long falls. Eventually, with perseverance and a true, hard look at our situation, we can actually get up all seven times and rise as a צַדִּיק.
The reward? HaShem puts us in the situation that originally caused our fall... and we walk through tall and confident. There is no greater reward than that; the well earned triumphant success.
Except last week. I was on the treadmill and lost my footing, being carried off that back. That's not how I scraped my knee. I collected myself, stood on the rails straddling the moving treadmill. "It's not moving that fast," I reasoned. (OK, perhaps "reasoned" is the wrong verb, as there was very little reason to what I did next.) "I'll just step back on and start running," I further "reasoned" (same comment). I did, in fact, step back on. I did, in fact, start running. It was, of course, just a bit slower than the treadmill was moving. I went flying back and this time did skin my knee.
To save some face, I contemplated the mussar of the situation. I have often been bothered by the verse in משלי/Proverbs:
משלי כד:טז) כִּי שֶׁבַע, יִפּוֹל צַדִּיק וָקָם -- וּרְשָׁעִים, יִכָּשְׁלוּ בְרָעָה)Seven times he falls, and the צַדִּיק/righteous individual rises, but רְשָׁעִים/evildoers stumble to evil (that is, they don't get up). Now I know that this statement is often misunderstood. People think that you can't keep a good man down, so the צַדִּיק keeps getting up; whereas the evildoer gets pushed down so hard that he can't get up. That would seem to be a very Pollyanna view of the world; hardly worthy of the wisest man of all time. Moreover, are Sages tell us that everything is in the hand of heaven (is subject to strict Divine Providence) except the fear/awe of heaven -- that is, whether one decides to be a צַדִּיק or an evildoer. It cannot be, therefore, that HaShem holds down the evildoers until they just give up and decide to be a צַדִּיק out of lack of viable alternatives.
Rather, the deeper meaning is that to become a צַדִּיק, one must fall and rise, fall and rise; time after time. It is that rising from the fall that transforms/build a צַדִּיק out of an ordinary person. It is giving up and accepting the fall that turns an ordinary person into an evildoer. (Not my original thought; from Pachad Yitzchak.) What bothers me about this p'shat? Seven times. Are you kidding me? I'd love to find some sort of success after seven falls. I've even tried counting. I fall a lot more than seven times for even the smallest progress. I'm still working on some things after decades. Now, perhaps you want to tell me that seven represents complete. (There are seven days of creation, Chanuka is eight days -- so above nature; etc.) I am good with that... that the verse does say seven.
Then it hit me (yes; pun intended). In halacha, something that is an inevitable consequence is is considered good as done. You can't fall if you don't get up. Obvious, right? When I stepped back on that treadmill, I had done nothing different than the first time. It was an inevitable consequence that I would fall; therefore, I never got up. I didn't fall a second time -- I was experiencing one long fall. When we think we are trying to do t'shuva but don't actually try a different approach, don't try a meaningful change... the inevitable fall is not a new fall but just part of the same long falling we've been experiencing all along. Those 10s and 100s of falls... those years and decades of failures are not a contradiction to the words of Shlomo HaMelech, because we haven't gotten up -- really gotten up -- seven times; we are just experiencing one or two or three long falls. Eventually, with perseverance and a true, hard look at our situation, we can actually get up all seven times and rise as a צַדִּיק.
The reward? HaShem puts us in the situation that originally caused our fall... and we walk through tall and confident. There is no greater reward than that; the well earned triumphant success.
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