BY Rabbi Aryeh Zev Ginzberg
A new season brings with it a new beginning and immeasurable opportunities for growth. Putting last year’s failed goals and neglected commitments behind us, we start fresh, as opportunities abound.
Starting fresh has always been the secret behind any commitment that successfully came to fruition. The Torah itself provides this ingredient for success, when our mandate is that “it should be viewed in your eyes as new.” The Satmar Rebbe, zt’l, used to inspire his students at the beginning of the school year by telling them that even though 99 out of 100 commitments fail, how sweet it is for the one that you did see through to completion. It makes all the failed commitments well worth it.
I thought of these words last week when I announced the beginning of the next machzor (cycle) of learning through the entire Shishah Sidrei Mishnah. Some years ago, we introduced a program to create new opportunities to learn Torah for those for whom the pressure of professional life and family obligations makes finding a few extra minutes in the day for limud haTorah nearly impossible. After some tweaking, we finalized a program of learning just five Mishnayos a day, the same ones that many others will be learning each day, which can be done properly in 15–20 minutes.
With so many resources available today to explain the most complex Mishnah with great clarity, it’s a perfect fit for everyone regardless of background. At the beginning of every month, someone (with colossal z’chuyos to his credit) e‑mails the month’s calendar with the list of the five Mishnayos for each day to anyone who participates in the program. (Anyone who would like to be on that e‑mail list should please send contact information to azg411@gmail.com.) With this system, one can complete the entire Shishah Sidrei Mishnah in approximately two years.
As I announced the beginning of the next machzor, I did my best to offer divrei chizuk to anyone listening, inviting—rather challenging—them to come on board. Instead, I received the most incredible chizuk from so many people, some whom I know well and others whom I had never met before, offering their personal perspectives on what it meant to them to cross the finish line. The common denominator with most of them was that not one of them started the last machzor with any belief or even hope that they would get to the finish line. But each one did. How did they do it? First, it was the ability to believe in themselves.
One of the difficult things to explain in Parashas Noach is the Torah’s seemingly contradictory description of Noach. The Torah clearly describes him as a tzaddik and one who walked with complete devotion (tamim) to Hashem. Yet Chazal describe Noach as someone who was mi’ketanei emunah (among those of little faith). How can these two versions be reconciled? A few years ago, I heard from Rabbi Yechiel Weberman a beautiful interpretation from the Satmar Rebbe, zt’l, that it really is no contradiction. In Hashem’s eyes, Noach was indeed a tzaddik and a righteous person. But in his own eyes, Noach was mi’ketanei emunah; he didn’t really believe in himself.
To start a personal commitment, you have to start fresh, and you also have to believe in yourself and that you can do it. And even though you may never make it to the finish line, you have the ability to join the others at the starting line and to at least start the race. You must believe in yourself.
The chizuk that I received was from so many people that I never realized had the ability or the interest to accept this challenge. They didn’t share it—with me or with others. They purchased a pocket ArtScroll Mishnayos on Berachos, or downloaded the Kehati app, and silently joined the others at the starting line. Some told me that they just wanted to do the first masechta, Berachos, and had every intention of stopping at that point. While I am sure that many did drop out of the race at that point, some decided to do just one more mishnah and then one more masechta, until they silently crossed the finish line. What an inspiration and what an accomplishment.
This motzaei Shabbos, I will be joining with a small group of people at the siyum of a dear friend who is finishing Shas, when the followers of daf yomi will be completing Maseches Sanhedrin, which is about midway in the seven-year daf yomi cycle. When I asked him why he started learning daf yomi in the middle of the cycle, he shared with me an inspiring story. Around seven years ago, a young friend of his was in need of a refuah sheleimah for a serious illness. Upon someone’s suggestion, he and a group of friends undertook to start learning the new masechta that was starting in the daf yomi cycle the next day, Makkos. They decided that since it was only 24 blatt, it wasn’t a major life commitment, and they would start it together. For the next 24 days, they would be doing something significant as a z’chus for the refuah of a friend. He started it, and 24 days he later made a siyum on Masechta Makkos.
While I don’t really know it for a fact, I assume that most of those who undertook this 24-day commitment went back to their daily hectic routines. My friend, however, thought, “I finished one; maybe I can do just one more and then one more.”
And on motzaei Shabbos I will be celebrating with a few friends the crossing of the “finish line,” all because he and others like him believed in themselves that they could do it.
The encounter that was the most inspiring to me and gave me a tremendous amount of chizuk was one that took place by the fruit section in a local supermarket. What does a supermarket have to do with a siyum? Most early Friday mornings, I contribute my small part in preparing for Shabbos by picking up the last few items remaining on my wife’s Shabbos shopping list. Two weeks ago, as I passed by the fruit section in Gourmet Glatt, a man I had never met before stopped me and asked if he could request a personal favor. I assumed it was probably something like helping him pick out some ripe avocados. I promptly shared that I have no clue about selecting fruits or vegetables. He smiled for a moment and then with great seriousness shared the following story.
Around two and a half years earlier, his wife gave birth to a baby boy who was born with many health challenges. He and his wife were understandably devastated and knew that they would be facing a long and difficult road ahead. He described himself as a hard-working professional with a big workload. He leaves his home early and arrives home long after everyone is asleep. He felt disconnected from Torah, as it had been many years since he attended any shiur that required a commitment of time. Now that he was facing this new challenge, he felt that he had to strengthen himself spiritually to be able to get through it.
He didn’t know where to start. That weekend, he read in this newspaper about the start of the new machzor of learning five mishnayos a day, and he was intrigued. This would not have to be a lifetime commitment and was something that he could do within the framework of his busy schedule. He went out and bought a set of Mishnayos and showed up at the starting line. Not only didn’t he discuss it with anyone else, but he never even shared with his wife that he was going to commit to this.
He is now at the finish line, having completed all of Shishah Sidrei Mishnah in the last two years, and he was contemplating whether he should make a siyum of some form. While he is always on an early train to the city, that morning he would be going in late, as his little son had just come home from a procedure, and so he ran to the store for a few things for Shabbos. And then he saw me and decided at that moment what he wanted to do for the siyum. He asked me to join him in his home that morning for a private siyum with just his wife and children in attendance, and to do so by the bed of his little boy in need of rachamei Shamayim.
He explained, “I started this after reading about your learning program; it was all done for my son and I want it to be a z’chus for his refuah.” I was moved and inspired by his sincerity and his deep understanding of what the great z’chus of a siyum can mean for his little boy.
I went to participate in this unusual siyum and I told him that while it was the smallest siyum that I have ever attended, it was without doubt the most meaningful one as well. Not often does a siyum cause tears to flow freely.
It is brought down from the talmidei haGra that there are many similarities between the only two parashiyos in the Torah that start with the word “Lech,” to go. The third parashah in the Torah is Lech-Lecha and the third-to-last parashah in the Torah is Vayeilech. What’s most interesting is that both of these parashiyos that talk about “going” are journeys that had no particular destination. Avraham Avinu was told to ‘go,” but, as Rashi says, was not told where he was going. And in Parashas Vayeilech, Moshe Rabbeinu is told to “go,” but again Chazal say that there was no specific direction to that journey.
The lesson for us here is clear. In spiritual journeys, “going” is significant even without a definite destination. We sometimes just need to start the journey without an endgame, and with commitment and unlimited siyaytta d’Shmaya, we will all make it to the finish line. Looking forward to seeing you there in approximately two years.
The Mishnayos program was formed as a z’chus for the neshamah of Sarah Chaya, z’l, bas Rav Aryeh Zev.
The post From Start To Finish appeared first on The 5 Towns Jewish Times.