For many years I posted a weekly blog. This one, from about 8 years ago, was a turning point for me. By request, I'm reprinting it here.
Usually we want to know why we have to do something before we do it. That’s true whether someone else makes us do it, or we make ourselves. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that sometimes you do something and then you find out why you did it.
The Bible tells us that the Jews standing at Mount Sinai, when asked to accept the Torah, said the words "na'aseh v'nishma"--"We will do and we will understand" (however you translate the second word, “understand, hear, etc.” doing comes first.) Jewish people have always been raised to learn what to do above what not to do. And of course, some of the things we do really aren’t logical or even explainable.
One way of thinking about this idea is that, with something as vast and baffling as the instructions of the Torah, you have to follow those instructions and see what the result is in your life, because you might not be able to understand the reason any other way. The poet Theodore Roethke came to the same conclusion when he wrote, in wonderful ambiguity, “I learn by going where I have to go.” He learns where he has to go by going there, and he also learns because he goes there.
Too deep for you? Okay, check this out.
When I was 13 I had a bar-mitzvah, like most Jewish boys. You’re supposed to do several things: Chant from the Torah in Hebrew, chant another passage from the Old Testament (Haftarah) in, and give a speech about what you’ve learned. Well, when I was 13, I thought my second obligation, that Old Testament thing, was too hard, so I only agreed to do half of it.
In my defense, I did get one of the longest ones they give out. The one you get is chosen for you by the date of your Bar Mitzvah, and some people only have a little to do, while others end up with a lot. Because I didn’t think it was fair how I’d gotten the longest one, because I didn’t really feel competent, because I was not committed to the process, I rebelled and only did half of my Haftarah.
They let me get away with it. It’s the only time I ever rebelled, and it worked. At the time I thought I was clever and I’d won.
I hadn’t. As the years went by, I thought more and more about how I’d shirked my responsibility. I felt like a failure, and I couldn’t shake the feeling.
So when I was in my 30’s I decided, even though my Jewish learning was sorely lacking, that I’d go back and finish that portion, read the whole thing from start to finish for the congregation I was in. It took me a year, and was somewhat terrifying to prepare and to do, but I did it. What I ended up with was more than just relief.
You see, the passage I was supposed to chant told the story of Deborah the prophet, who tells the General Barak that he has to defeat the army of his enemy, Sisera. Barak insists that Deborah go with him to help him, and because he won't fight the battle by himself, he wins the victory but doesn’t get the glory. The enemy general, Sisera, ends up getting killed by a woman from another tribe.
I never tried to understand the story when I was 13, and I had a lot of trouble with it even as an adult. But as I continued working, it finally dawned on me that, as a man in his late 30’s, I had a