Adam and…Steve

Life’s biggest struggles can be in the courtroom of your own mind.

When you grow up you tend to get told the world is the way it is and your life is just to live your life inside the world. Try not to bash into the walls too much. Try to have a nice family life, have fun, save a little money.

That’s a very limited life. Life can be much broader once you discover one simple fact: And that is…everything around you that you call life was made up by people that were no smarter than you, and you can change it, you can influence it, you can build your own things that other people can use.

Once you learn that, you’ll never be the same again.

  • Steve Jobs, 1995

You might enjoy reading that quote again and again. You might marvel at the elementary, yet deeply empowering words.  You will be struck with a feeling that you can do anything! Perhaps you will like the quote so much that you will find it on YouTube and watch it several times, progressively feeling your confidence build as you prepare to do whatever you set your mind to.

And then…you might return to the same exact life you had before. You may go from “once you learn that, you’ll never be the same again,” to…being the same, again.

Why? What secret lies in those powerful words that touch you but might not succeed in emancipating you from the shackles of your current existence?

Jobs is describing part of his own experience taming the self-critical part of his psyche that is sometimes termed the superego. Recognizing and learning to cultivate this powerful aspect of your brain can be a lifelong challenge. (Although Jobs might seem to portray it as a quick recognition, it was likely a process for him.)

Many of your earliest experiences can foster a strong belief that you are the Little Engine That Couldn’t. Early criticism and parental interactions can mold part of your mind into a critical, self-denying naysayer that repetitively tells you that many things you might want are beyond your reach. As you mature, you become accustomed to seeing that deeply judicious part of your mind as your trusted advisor and protector. It allows you to navigate life, society, and decision making. Yet its deeply critical bend often serves to distort and refract your perspective instead of clarifying it.

Part of your superego’s sharply disapproving nature is to create a mirage that others are better than you. They are more intelligent, wealthy, or beautiful. They are more knowledgeable about the world and understand life greater than you do. They are gifted, and they can accomplish more than you ever could. Sometimes that is technically true, but the superego capitalizes on and exaggerates the facts. It also creates a corollary: If others have those talents or gifts, then you are deficient.

A strong superego can also create an arena phenomenon. Life can seem like a circular stadium, with everyone else positioned around, and higher than you. Your mind can be so sensitive to noticing ways in which others are better that it utilizes the perceived advantages that others have to paint that morose portrait.

Often, a superego is a resilient force to wrestle with. It can take many years of insight and self-understanding to be in touch with the power it can hold over you and your happiness, success, and fulfillment.

Is there a way to jumpstart the process? There are two points that might be meaningful for you to keep in mind when you are struggling with the tight grip your superego has over you.

Firstly, acknowledging its existence and power and then talking about it might be very helpful. Monsters that are named and discussed can lose some of their strength. As Elihu ben Berachel said while contemplating the deep suffering of his friend Iyov, (Iyov 32, 20), “I speak that I might find relief.”

Secondly, it might be helpful to see yourself in a partial vacuum. If you meet a threshold for skills, insight, or wisdom to accomplish certain tasks, then you might do well if you permit yourself to pursue them. Even if others might be more suited or have better skills, it does not lessen your own abilities or efficacy. Steve Jobs intimates that when he says that others “are no smarter than you.” There is no way of knowing that empirically. For most people, probably including Jobs, it isn’t true either. But it is largely irrelevant. What they are does not say anything about who you are.

The Torah seems to hint to this perspective in the beginning of Sefer Vayikra. The Chumash opens describing the process of bringing a sacrifice and uses the term “Adam” to describe a person. There are several Hebrew terms throughout Scripture to mean “person,” and one of them is Adam, since we all originate from him. Yet, the Sages were sensitive to that word selection here. Some commentators (Kli Yakar) explain the intent of the Torah is to highlight that the ideal way for a person to bring a sacrifice is to follow the example of Adam. On the first day of creation, Adam brought a korban. Adam acted unilaterally and of his own aspiration. He did not compare himself to others.

According to Jewish law, the world was created in the beginning of this month, Nisan. (See Talmud Rosh Hashanah 27a and Tos. d.h. Kman.) Consequently, Adam brought the first sacrifice 5777 years ago this past Tuesday. Rationally, other humans did not exist. But the Torah is encouraging us to incorporate that perspective even when we are surrounded by other people. Rather than adopt the pernicious superego-motivated approach of comparison and criticism, the Torah advises each person to allow himself the freedom to capitalize on his own existence and intrinsic capabilities.

Steve Jobs was not necessarily the most talented, brightest or most insightful individual. Yet, he noticed his capabilities and reported that he was able to subdue his critical, self-effacing superego. The Apple did not fall far from the Steve.

You might encounter and struggle with your superego’s critical eye, during Nisan or throughout the year. Perhaps you will begin to tame it with a simple realization, like Steve Jobs reports he did. Perhaps it will be a long journey with growth and setbacks along the path. Maybe it will even be both – an aha! moment followed by a long trek. It might be a discussion worth having with yourself, following in the footsteps of your earliest ancestor, Adam.

Whose Calling?

Is there a sense that navigates your professional destiny?

Do you feel like you are supposed to be working where you are?

Wait! Before you answer, think about the question. Is the word “supposed to” an appropriate way to think about your job? It implies that there is a right answer and a wrong answer. Is that the way to examine your choice of career or place of employment?

In contemporary society, it is prevalent to approach one’s vocational choices with an air of supposition. There are several paths, and some – or one – are more correct for an individual to follow. This is sometimes termed a sense of calling. One can see himself as possessing talents and abilities that can be viewed as a road map to follow toward professional selection and development. For a religious individual, this calling can take on a spiritual directive. If someone observes capabilities that he has, it might be a Divine indication that they are to be developed and manifested in his profession.

Often this is most highlighted for those that select a career focused on developing the spiritual, emotional, or psychological health of others. Rabbis, educators, and mental health professionals might have felt a sense of calling that motivated them to make their vocational choice and a similar feeling that propels their daily profession. Their occupation is a way of fulfilling the mission that they see within themselves and their lives. Religious professionals can feel that they were chosen to pursue a path of Divine service of facilitating the growth of others. Their dedication to a vocation of that directly helps people might be seen as a fulfillment of a surmised Divine injunction.

Paying attention to an internal or G-dly calling to a professional mission can engender clarity and fulfillment. If the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” is difficult, a helpful solution might be: “What Hashem helps me see I should be.” Also, a calling to pursue a specific profession can fill one’s life with purpose that transcends the nitty gritty of one’s job. If the curse to Adam was that by the sweat of his brow he eat his bread, the blessing that might seem to counteract it is a vocation this is spiritually fulfilling.

Conversely, a rigorous philosophy of calling and mission can sometimes be coopted, by constituents, employers, or oneself. Professionals might remain in their posts even if they are underpaid, undervalued, or treated unsuitably. Sometimes the shout of a religious calling drowns out pragmatic, personal, and professional protests. Rabbis, educators, and therapists can freeze in their employment situation and weather a long storm because they intuit that their Divine mission demands it.

General career advisers might suggest that one’s vocation develop a talent or interest he has. It is prevalent for religious people to rephrase that as, “Hashem wants me to choose a vocation that draws on talents that I see within myself.”

Since a sense of calling and mission might be both positive and negative, it is significant to explore more about this powerful force. An intriguing source regarding this powerful sense is found in a comment by Rav Moshe Feinstein (Darash Moshe, Parshas Vayakhel), one of the leading halachic decisors of contemporary Orthodoxy. At first glance, Rav Moshe seems to state that a Divine calling is a significant method to determine or evaluate one’s professional choices and goals. Further examination might indicate that his words do not necessarily support that and give you pause to think about if a sense of calling is a valid way to determine a vocation altogether.

The Torah terms Betzalel as the one who G-d had already chosen by name as the architect of the tabernacle. Yet, Rav Moshe Feinstein observes that there is no earlier verse that details that G-d appointed Betzalel to be the architect. It appears curious that the Torah describes Betzalel as the one who G-d had selected earlier, when no prior verse describes that process. Rav Moshe suggests that G-d did not directly designate Betzalel as the foreman. Rather, Betzalel noticed the unique capability he had as an architect par excellence, and realized that his Divine gift was for a purpose. He saw his talents as a gift from G-d and intuited that he was to be the one to spearhead the building of the tabernacle. Rav Moshe elaborates and expounds that if a person notices that he is gifted with an outstanding trait or blessing, it is important for him to acknowledge that as Divinely granted, and use it in the service of Hashem. For example, if one sees that he is exceedingly financially successful, he should intuit that as a Divine injunction to spread his largesse with needy individuals and institutions. If one notices that he is a talented teacher, he should use that endowment to teach Torah.

Rav Moshe’s comments seemingly fall in line with a philosophy of mission and calling to determine a profession. Yet, if you examine his perspective more carefully, Rav Moshe’s directive seems to be limited. Rav Moshe does not mean that one should necessarily use a sense of calling to determine his vocation. There are at least four distinctions between Rav Moshe’s discussion of heeding a Divine message about one’s talents and using that as a contemporary determinant for one’s profession.

  • Rav Moshe’s comments merely mean that one who sees that he has the potential to make a positive impact on the world should not leave those capabilities latent. Rav Moshe does not state that that one who notices particular talents should necessarily use those to indicate his choice of vocation or profession. One might bifurcate his calling and his daily occupation. Perhaps he should avail himself of non-vocational opportunities to maximize and utilize his abilities.
  • A sense of calling can be perceived as a Divine hint for what one should do professionally. Are unsavory work situations, such as overly taxing congregants or disagreeable conditions in a workplace a Divine calling the other way? When internal talents and external situations do not align, on which promenade does one stroll?
  • A sense of calling might mean that a person should not shy away from opportunities that encounter him squarely in the face. If one is blessed financially, he should not turn away those that reach out to him. If one is granted the ability to teach, he should fill a need that arises. Rav Moshe comments center on a clear injunction that Betzalel heard. He saw the need for the tabernacle to be constructed, and he saw that he had the credentials to fulfill that task. There was an unequivocal need and an overwhelming talented individual – the perfect shidduch. Betzalel did not need to create his niche in order to fill it. Does a philosophy of calling demand one to proactively search out opportunities that utilize the talents he has?
  • Some contemporary social scientists differentiate between two groups of people, specialists and multipotentialites. Specialists notice abilities that they have and they can excel at and develop them through life. Multipotentialites can shine in several different areas and have multiple potentials. Although it is can be a blessing, sometimes their life and professional goals can be harder to determine. It can be helpful to see these two categories as extremes, with most of humanity falling between the two. The majority of people have different areas at which they can succeed, fulfill themselves, and be very gainfully employed. If most of us rate somewhat high on the multipotentialite scale, which of those talents is a Divine calling pointing to?


A feeling that a sense of calling exists might assist one’s occupational choice and foster a feeling of fulfillment in a job. One might see his profession as being Divinely selected and ordained. This sense can be especially true for those that are in the spiritual or emotional helping professions. Yet, it might be helpful to think about if there is an audible calling that designates which occupation you should have. If you aren’t Betzalel, it might be a hard call to make.

I Am So Different Than You…and Let’s Keep It That Way

Interacting with people can be so hard! Find out why…and how you can think different.

I hate socializing.

Awk- waard!

I have nothing to say at the table.

Everyone else is so different than I am.

They sooo don’t get me.

A chief complaint that we can feel when we are in a group of people is that we are markedly different than the others. Sometimes we might feel inferior – not as knowledgeable, less “with it,” or not too sociable. On other occasions we might feel that we are “better” – more intelligent, further refined, or superior conversationalists. These thoughts can leave us feeling that we have little to talk to everyone else about. We might feel “out of it” or not too energetic as the conversation buzzes around us. Then, the ideas that we had about the group become even more true as our prophesies of difference fulfill themselves.

There is a fascinating background story to this experience. A tension exists deep within us. On the one hand, we deeply desire to feel unique. That yearning was with us since our earliest days, and perhaps before then. We wanted our parents to take care of us, protect us, and show us their love and how we were special to them. As we matured physically and emotionally, we remained with that perpetual desire to feel unique. In addition, each of us really is unique. We are each different from one another physically, and that reflects the exclusive nature of each of our thoughts and feelings. We might know that, but we want to feel it more potently. Each person is distinctive from a religious standpoint, too. The soul that each person has is individual, and represents his connection with the Divine.

At the same time, the perpetual desire to feel and express our uniqueness can backfire. It can cause us to focus on it too much when we are with a group of others. Instead of connecting with the other individuals in a group, we hone in on our uniqueness. This is self-preserving. When we are with a group of people, our uniqueness can feel threatened. Paying disproportionate attention to our uniqueness feeds it and preserves it for us. In our efforts to keep our uniqueness, we create an I – You barrier.

In addition, when we focus unduly on our uniqueness, we often make a judgement about it. We can see ourselves as different and see the others as better than us. Although it might seem strange that we criticize ourselves, it actually works to our advantage. Our tale of woe as being less than everyone else highlights that we are different – and unique. We create a reality that the others shine and we fall short. It might be true that the other in a group have some attributes that we do not. Yet, we can be so desperate for a unique point of differentiation that these thoughts often feel truer than they are. This way of thinking is often painful and distances us from others, and from ourselves.

On other occasions, we might make a judgement of superiority of self. We might feel that the group that we are with is below what is fitting to us. We are smarter, more complicated, or better conversationalists than the other people there. In truth, the delusion of feeling superior also stems from a feeling of inferiority. We are so desperate to feel unique that we hone in on some positive traits or characteristics and favorably compare ourselves to others. This allows us to preserve our uniqueness that we perceive as so fragile.

Social situations can acutely bring out our deep desire to perpetuate our uniqueness. Ironically, true uniqueness is tautological. It is the very defining trait of who we are. One is unique. One is not unique because of something. “Unique” is not the middle of a sentence. It is followed by a period.

An apocryphal story tells of a man who walked into a restaurant in the South and ordered sausage and eggs for breakfast. When the waitress brought him his order, he noticed a white mound on the plate, too. He asked the waitress what they were. “Grits, sir,” she replied. “But I didn’t order grits,” he responded. “Sir, you don’t order grits, they just come,” she exclaimed. Similarly, our uniqueness is not something we need to rationalize or explain. At its core, it just is – it’s who we are and who we will be.

This was the eternal paradigm provided by the Machatzis Hashekel, the half-shekel that was required to be collected yearly, and is described in the beginning of Parshas Ki Sisa. The Torah highlights that each person was required to donate a half shekel coin for the needs of the Temple in the coming year. The Torah emphatically states that an affluent person may not increase his donation, and an indigent one may not decrease it. The lesson, highlighted by many commentaries, is that each person is central and important in maintaining the Temple. Those with deeper pockets do not have more gravitas than those with shallower ones. By extension, more or less intellectual ability, personality, or capability does not make a person more unique. Uniqueness just is.

When we think about our uniqueness as being an integral and immutable part of ourselves, it can allow us the freedom to foster it and still connect with others. We might even allow ourselves to see value in being in a group because others will enjoy our uniqueness. The more we are in touch with uniqueness as an integral part of who we are, the more it can begin deep conversations within ourselves and with the others that we associate with.

From Coup D’état to Coup de Grace: The Importance of Thinking About What You Are Thinking About

Haman thought himself into oblivion. Can we do better?

What do you think about?

How you answer that might depend on how comfortable and trusting you are of the person asking. Even so, you might not know what to answer. The human mind is so wonderfully complex that you might be thinking many thoughts at the same time. Some can be easy for you to access, and others more difficult. Sometimes, when you try to answer that question honestly, you can gain insight into who you are, and some things that make you happy, sad, or confused.

If you are not in touch with your thoughts, you can sometimes be hiding keys to who you are from yourself. That doesn’t mean that the thoughts aren’t there, it simply means that you are not allowing yourself to focus on them. Since they are still present in your mind, they might come out at inopportune moments or through your behavior, even if you are not aware of it. That is what happened at one of the critical junctures of the Purim story.

The Midrash (Koheles Rabbah 5:2) illuminates the background of a pivotal story in the Megillah. Mordechai, the Jewish sage and leader, was supposed to be terminated on Passover. Instead, he was paraded victoriously around the city on that day, led by his archenemy and planned assassin, Haman.

Acheshverosh, supreme ruler of the Persian Empire, had had a troubling dream the night before. He envisioned his second in command, Haman, standing above him with a drawn sword, disrobing him from his royal attire, removing his crown, and attempting to kill him. Achashverosh tried to shake the dream but it recurred throughout the night. It was almost morning, and Acheshverosh still struggled with his nightmare.

Haman then entered the royal chamber. He intended to discuss the immediate execution of Mordechai with Achashverosh. Achashverosh sensed that Haman might have had ulterior motives in coming, too. To test Haman’s thinking, Achashverosh asked him to recommend a procedure for honoring a loyal subject. Haman responded that the honoree should wear royal robes. Achashverosh inquired as to which ones. Haman explained that his intent was Achashverosh’s coronation robes. Haman further recommended that the man ride on one of the king’s horses. Achashverosh asked which horse Haman meant. He again responded that he referred to the horse used during coronation.  Haman added that the honoree should wear the royal crown. When Achashverosh heard that, his visage turned angry. He silently decided that the time for Haman’s own end had come. Achashverosh had received proof positive that his sixth sense was correct. Haman was obviously planning a coup.

This narrative is as a powerful declaration as to the role of thought and its interplay with actions. The Midrash comments that wicked people, such as Haman, are governed by their thoughts. In contrast, righteous people have the ability to manage their thinking. The commentaries (see Eitz Yosef ibid.) explain that all people can harbor negative thoughts or feelings. The difference between a person who leads a morally correct life and one who does not is the ability to work through those thoughts productively. Wonderful people can have not-so-wonderful thoughts. A person who wants to meet with success acknowledges those thoughts and addresses them. Perhaps he will decide to be simply cognizant of them and not let them lead him to incorrect actions. Perhaps he will try to change his cognitions. Maybe he will be more conscious of situations that trigger those thoughts. Perhaps he will embrace all of these, or address the thoughts in a different way. The only way to decide how to navigate and address thoughts is to first notice that they are there.

In contrast, Haman was filled with thoughts of aggression, and his persona seemed to have exuded them. Unconsciously, his aura expressed that he was planning to usurp the throne. Achashverosh unknowingly sensed this, and his concerns materialized in his dream. Haman was not clever enough to disguise his negative thoughts and plans. Haman might even have been able to successfully plan his coup if he paid attention to what he was thinking and bifurcated his thoughts from his actions. Instead, he let his thoughts and desires influence his speech and behavior, and gave himself away to the King.

Sometimes, the difference between people that thrive and people that dive is not the thoughts that they have, but how they deal with them. The more you are in touch with the layers of thoughts in your mind, the more you might be able to discover and understand yourself. This can lead to a more fulfilling and successful life, which is something to celebrate, not just on Purim, but throughout the year!

Put Your Money Where Your Self Is

What does your apparel oft proclaim?

“It’s not the $1000 suit, it’s the $1000 car,” a rabbinic leader recently explained to a group of yeshiva students. He was gently exhorting the young men to limit excessive spending in their future lives as young Torah scholars. His approach is partially rooted in traditional Jewish ethical works. It is also often communicated in contemporary Orthodox society. It its current presentation, it stems from an emphasis on spirituality, and an effort to counter the influence of greater society’s material excesses. It also grows out of the financial realism that one is likely going to need to be spendthrifty when he dedicates a period of his life to Talmudic study and Jewish spirituality.

In seeming contrast, the grandiosity of the Tabernacle in the wilderness was stunning. The structure and its basic fixtures were made of pure gold, silver, and rare animal skins. The lavishness of the Tabernacle’s construction bespoke its lofty use. Similarly, the clothing of the kohanim, and specifically the kohein gadol, were beautiful and extravagantly designed. The Torah expresses that they were “for honor and glory” of those in the Divine service.

There appears to be a friction between two opposing ideals, one focusing on spirituality and curbing personal material involvement, and the other embracing liberal financial expenditure for a spiritual goal. The tension might be highlighted by two contradictory rules that exist regarding spending for the Temple and its service. Firstly, the Talmud states that “there is no poverty [in financial behavior] in a place of wealth.” When one is focusing on religious grandiosity, it is inappropriate to be thrifty. Rather, one should buy the best and not restrict himself in any way. Conversely, the Talmud also declares that “the Torah is concerned about wasting money” in ritual spending. How do these two contradictory forces coexist? Rav Moshe ibn Chabib (17th century, often known eponymously as the Kapos Temarim, Rosh Hashana 27b s.v. Gemara Mai Shna) suggests that both approaches are true and necessary. There are two strains of thought, and it became the duty of the sages of the Talmud to wisely determine and resolve when it is appropriate to emphasize one of those rules, and when the other is more apropos. Sometimes the grandiosity and sense of magnificence that is created by constructing the Tabernacle or Temple of the finest materials is a worthwhile usage of funds. On the other hand, sometimes it is significant to hold back on spending and count one’s pennies.

A similar conflict can manifest itself throughout one’s own life. If one is dedicated to a life of spirituality, intellectualism, or religious value, where does material expenditure fit into that framework? It is a global issue and it is hard to make unilateral declarations or decisive statements. The decision which is right might require wisdom and prudence, similar to that advanced by the sages of old.

Specifically regarding one’s clothing, there might be room to think about emphasizing spending resources to make sure that one’s clothing is of good quality. This was impressively phrased by Shakespeare as the father Polonius gives timeless advice to his son Laertes in Hamlet (Act I, Scene 3. Polonius uses the word “habit” to refer to clothing):

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not express’d in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Shakespeare wisely declares that the type of clothing that one wears has ramifications beyond indulgence. It conveys a message regarding who the person is.

“Apparel oft[en] proclaims the man” perhaps most importantly to himself. When one puts effort into his appearance and dress, it can convey a sense of self, or helps create one. One who disregards his clothing might be making a statement that he does not fully exist. Conversely, one who struggles with his own sense of self might take steps to ameliorate that by dressing better than he does presently.

Alternatively, external accoutrements can be a superficial defense mechanism where one deludes himself into believing that he feels good about himself. In reality, he feels good only about his clothing and how others see him as he wears them. It might take an honest conversation with himself to understand if appropriately good clothing create a medium to give him the message that he is a wonderful, respectable human being, or allow him to be a mere mannequin touting name brands for a popular designer, without an internal feeling of self.

One of the most well known and formative social psychologists is Dr. Phillip Zimbardo, professor emeritus of Stanford. Zimbardo extensively researched time and how individual perspectives on time extensively affect decision making processes. He autobiographically expressed that for many years, he focused on the future and succeeding, sacrificing todays for tomorrows. Later in life, he realized that he needed to add a focus on himself and enjoyment of life. It helped him become more productive and happier. One might see it as him also increasing his sense of self:

And it resonated for me. I grew up as a poor kid in the South Bronx ghetto, a Sicilian family — everyone lived in the past and present. I’m here as a future-oriented person who went over the top, who did all these sacrifices because teachers intervened, and made me future oriented. Told me don’t eat that marshmallow, because if you wait you’re going to get two of them, until I learned to balance out. I’ve added present-hedonism…so, at 76 years old, I am more energetic than ever, more productive, and I’m happier than I have ever been.

How and on what one spends money might is a large discussion that it is sometimes easier to close than to open. There are many factors involved, including sociocultural religious ideals. It might be worthwhile to give specific thought as to how you spend money on clothing. Perhaps yours will not only “proclaim the man,” but appropriately and tastefully serve “as honor and glory” for a formidable and glorious self that is within.

The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat 

Can you embrace both?

Jubilation abounded as Yisro, Moshe’s father-in-law, came from his native Midian to join the Jewish encampment in the wilderness. Moshe related to him the details of the miraculous Israelite exodus and the splitting of the Red Sea and Yisro reacted with intense emotion. The Torah uses a unique word to encapsulate Yisro’s feelings – “Yichad”. (It is so distinctive that it is a hapax legomenon – a word that appears only once in Scripture.) Rashi interprets that expression in two ways. Superficially, it is a shortened form of the more common word “chedva,” which means joy. Yisro was overjoyed at the Israelite salvation. (Other commentators suggest that the etymology is from the Aramaic/ Targum – “chadi,” which is has the same meaning. Interestingly, in contemporary Persian, the word “chadi” means happiness and is sometimes taken as a family surname). Rashi then quotes an additional, Midrashic interpretation. The word originates from “chad” – which means sharp.  Yisro developed sharp stress marks on his skin as he heard Moshe’s narration of the decimation of Egypt. Since Yisro originally came from the country of Midian, near Egypt, he felt solidarity with the stricken Egyptians and their downfall pained him.

Rashi frequently quotes more than one interpretation of a word or an idea in his commentary. It can sometimes seem like each explanation is bifurcated from the other. Here, the two approaches espoused by Rashi, one of elation and the other of distress, seem in opposition. Upon further examination, Rashi might be suggesting an integration of both approaches. (This is possibly the truest meaning of how to understand multiple hermeneutical methods, such as peshat – simple meaning, and drash – homiletical meaning. They are meant to be combined and interwoven. A similar observation is made by Rabbi Yaakov Kaminetzky, Emes L’Yaakov, beginning of Vayigash.) How can that be in the description of Yisro’s emotions?  Did Yisro react with both jubilation and grief?

The Torah is accenting the beauty and complexity of the human experience. On the one hand, Yisro experienced joy at the miraculous salvation of the Jewish people, including his daughter and son-in-law. At the same time, Yisro felt dread and terror at the punishment of the Egyptians. Yisro embraced both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, simultaneously.

We can frequently find Yisro-type experiences in our own lives. Our minds can harbor several feelings about someone or something; these feelings can even be contradictory. We often, perhaps always, experience mixed feelings for a person, situation, or object. We might appreciate some parts and dread other characteristics or facets. For instance, it is common for people to enjoy the financial remuneration they receive from their employment, but not the job itself.  Alternatively, they might appreciate both of those, but bemoan the need to leave their homes or their families.

This can even be true in one’s most close familial experiences and relationships. For example, it might be significant for a child to be in touch with the pleasurable experience of security and nourishment that parents give, as well as the restriction and demands they might place on him. It is natural to appreciate the former and resent the latter. The same can be true regarding other relationships. It might be beneficial to think about the strains of emotions people evoke within us and feel comforted that there are usually webs of them, and they can often seem to be in opposition.

Yet, it can be hard to allow ourselves the reality of all parts of an experience. It might be easier to focus on one aspect of a person or experience than on multiple pieces. It seems more streamlined and simple. The urge to simplify our thoughts and emotions might cause us to think more about one aspect of an experience than another. Sometimes it takes some effort to become in touch with the multiple feelings and emotions we have about someone or something. It is not always comfortable or pleasant, but it might be more truthful.

This might be especially challenging in a world where people portray themselves technologically and usually emphasize one dimension of themselves, and see others that way. When culture encourages choosing who to date or connect with by means of a simple swipe of the finger, it is hard to buck the trend and notice that we usually have multiple feelings about people, not simply likes or dislikes and yeses or nos.

When the Jews encamped around Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, they are described as doing so with singular mind, like one individual. Chazal describe that as “kish echad b’lev echad” – as one person with one heart. It seems redundant – if they were like one person, weren’t they of unified heart? The Torah might be emphasizing that even one individual may have different thoughts and feelings in his heart. The unique nature of the Jewish encampment around Sinai was that they were so singular of purpose there was no fragmentation whatsoever. But that is the exception that proves the rule. We can often experience many thoughts and feelings, “b’ish echad” – within our own selves. It can be difficult and untidy, and complicated – and honest.

You Snooze, You Lose. Or Do You?

The best part of waking up might be staying in your bed.

Your alarm rings, startling you and arousing you from deep slumber. You hit the snooze button for a few more minutes of coveted rest. It rings again and you dutifully turn it off. You notice intellectually that you have to get up, but you stay in bed until the last second. Perhaps you lie in a semiconscious state for “just a few minutes.” Maybe you choose to reset your alarm for a later time and stay in bed for a while. You might rationalize with yourself: “I really need this sleep. I will be able to function much better during the day if I rest some more.” Perhaps you put a religious spin on it, “I will have more kavanah (focus) during davening (prayer) if I am more rested.”

When you wake up and mosey about, you might chide yourself for being lackadaisical. Alternatively, that thought crosses your mind later in the day. “I am so lazy sometimes,” you tell yourself. You might make a note to yourself to “work on your laziness,” to speak to your therapist about how to be more goal oriented and productive, or to review the beginning of Mesilas Yesharim (a religioethical work) that discusses zerizus (alacrity).

It might be significant to consider that many behaviors that are identified with laziness might have little to do with that abstract personality trait. The thoughts, actions, and feelings that you interpret as coming from laziness might result from inhibitions at facing something or someone in your life. Consider that some of the reason it is hard for you to get up in the morning might be that you don’t like your job, you don’t enjoy studying, or that you feel uncomfortable at the place you pray. Maybe last night’s difficult conversation with your family member disappointed you and you would prefer not to face him, or the world. Maybe you aren’t making enough money or you don’t like the community you live in. Unfortunately, there are almost endless negative experiences that can float around in your head, and they can make its weight on your pillow very formidable. You gain sleep, and you also gain avoidance of that feeling or situation.

Avoidance might be a tune you dance to throughout your week. Do you procrastinate doing your taxes or paying your bills? Part of you might be reluctant to sacrifice other activities to carve out a time investment to get your books in order. Yet, maybe you also resent Uncle Sam for charging you to live in the United States. “Isn’t it supposed to be a free country?” you ask yourself. “Why am I paying, or paying so much?” you think. Then you mutter, “My car lease payment? I wish I had leased a different car. I don’t like this one anyway.  Why am I still paying for it? My neighbor even got a better deal on the same model!”

Part of the complexity of the human mind is that there are many thoughts and feelings it can have about a specific situation. Some are more obvious, and others less so. They can all affect functioning and behavior. This can be evident in small areas, such as what time you wake up or how quickly you arise. Vilifying yourself for slacking off might create short term behavioral gains. But a personality flaw is not the root of the problem, and focusing on improving that trait will not usually meet with long term success.

There is a certain draw to avoiding cognitions and focus on life’s unpleasantries. It is immediately comfortable, more secure, and less messy. Yet, not giving them their due attention might be affecting your behavior or functioning. On the other hand, when you become more in touch with what your mind is resisting, negative or unpleasant thoughts can have less gravity. When you encounter behaviors that you see as procrastination or slacking off, think about what you might be avoiding. If you consider some possibilities, you might notice that your avoidance wanes.

In the 1950’s, the General Electric Company created the world’s first alarm clock with a snooze button, the Telechron 7H241. It was billed as “The World’s Most Humane Alarm Clock.” (You can see the original print ad and hear the original radio commercial for it here.)  The snooze button might have made the clock more humane, but it might have shielded its owners from being more human.