Hold on Tight

When it comes to some parts of the Jewish calendar it is difficult to know how we are to think and act and what exactly the Torah wants from us. The period known as the Aseres Yimei Teshuva is not one of those times. Our task during these ten days is clear, as we read in the Haftorah this week: “Shuvu Yisrael Ad Hashem Elokecha.” Teshuva is the order of the day—of this we are keenly aware.

As we have often noted, the Parsha of the week is inextricably connected to the events of the week—any intersection of the calendar and the cycle of the Parshios is far from coincidental but is rather intentional and always holds a message for us.

Parshas Vayelech is often, though not always depending on the way the calendar falls out, read between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur on the Shabbos known as Shabbos Shuva. This being the case we would expect to find a connection of some sort between the Parsha and this time of year, as is often the case. From one perspective, however, it actually seems that perhaps we should not be Laining this Parsha on the first Shabbos of the year at all!

The Parsha describes Moshe’s final day on this earth, and his various interactions at that time. He begins the Parsha by explaining to Klal Yisroel that he can no longer carry out the role of leadership and that he will pass the torch on to Yehoshua. The Pessukim then detail Moshe’s final words of Chizuk to Klal Yisroel, and then to Yehoshua, the Kohanim and Zekenim in turn.

We are then told of Hashem’s final Nevuah to Moshe Rabbeinu, and it is quite haunting. Hashem outlines for Moshe the fate of our people: that we will eventually stray from His path and follow false gods. This behavior will incite the anger of Hashem and He will be forced to bring untold tragedy upon us: “U’Matzauhu Raos Rabbos V’Tzaros.”

Hashem also predicts, so to speak, our reaction to these woes: “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi Metzauni HaRaos HaEla: Because I do not have Hashem in my midst, have I found these troubles.” It seems from the Passuk that despite our distance from the Derech Hashem, we will recognize that the sorrows that befall us are due to our inequities and our allegiance to Avodah Zarah. But this realization does not bring us out of the darkness, rather Hashem tells us: “V’Anochi Haster Aster Pani Bayom Hahu: I will hide my face on that day.” Rather than bringing us to the light of Geulah, it would appear that the epiphany of “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi” causes us to plunge even deeper into the darkness of Galus.

Obviously the words “V’Anochi Haster Aster Pani” are the source of much of the adversity and pain that we have found in our long history. Too many times have we found ourselves, on both the personal and national level, in a Matzav of Hester Panim—we cast about, searching for a sign of the Yeshuas Hashem, but we come up empty. Indeed these words encapsulate some of the most horrid suffering our people have known. In fact, the Medrash in Beraishis Rabah tells us that there was no more painful time for Hashem than when he said these words, indicating that there would be a time that he would appear to forsake his chosen people.

R’ Shimshon Pincus points out that if this is the case, that these words are so painful and frightening, we should not even be reading them on this Shabbos. As we discussed in the past, the Gemarah in Megillah tells us that Ezra Hasofer established the Seder of the Parshios such that Parshas Ki Savo is always read prior to Rosh Hashana because it contains the Tochecha, and we wish to end the year with those negative Pessukim: “K’Dei Shetichleh Shana V’Kililoseha.”

If this is the case, that we want to end the old year with the negative Pessukim and begin the new year with positive ones, as the Gemarah concludes “V’Tachel Shana B’Birchoseha”, than how can we read the Passuk of “V’Anochi Haster Aster Pani” on the first Shabbos of the year, as we do this year? These words are the most painful that are mentioned in all the Torah, can this fulfill the directive of the Gemarah to being the year on a “good note” so to speak?

If we take a closer look, however, we may discover that while painful and indeed horrifying, these words are in fact the perfect message for Shabbos Shuva.

The Ramban, and others, raise a question on this progression of Pessukim that we have alluded to above. Once Bnei Yisroel come to the realization that their woes can be attributed to their actions, “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi”, why are we then subject to Hester Panim? Why does it seem that we are punished for an awareness of the fact that we have caused our own Tzaros?

The Ramban answers that while the words “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi” constitute an admission of guilt to some extent, they are not a complete Viduy, rather this is a thought of “Charata.” The response of “V’Anochi Haster Aster Pani” is therefore not a punishment for the admission of “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi” but rather a way to drive us toward complete Teshuva.

Why is Hester Panim the mechanisim used to spur us to complete Teshuvah? Is there no other way to encourage us toward that path? If, once we reach a point of “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi”, Hashem would perform Nissim Giluyim thereby exhibiting his complete Hashgacha over the entire world, would we not be driven to Teshuvah? Many attribute the Baal Teshuva movement of the late Twentieth century to the open Nissim seen during the Six Day and Yom Kippur wars in Eretz Yisrael—open displays of the Yad Hashem certainly have the power to bring people Tachas Kanfei Hashechina. Why then is Hester Panim, such a painful reality, the way that Hashem chose to bring us from “Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi” to Teshuva Sheleima?

In order to answer this question, we must first understand the Koach of Teshuvah.

The Gemarah in Meseches Rosh Hashana explains that on Rosh Hashana itself there are three books open before Hashem: the Sefer Tzaddikim, the Sefer Reshaim and the Sefer Beinonim. Tzaddikim are immediately inscribed in their book for indicating life, while Reshaim are written in their Sefer indicating the opposite. Those who fall into neither category, Beinonim, are inscribed in neither book, allowing them the opportunity to do Teshuvah until Yom Kippur when their ultimate fate is determined. The implication of the Gemarah is that their judgment is then written into the Sefer Beinonim.

The Likutei Mahril cites Talmidim of R’ Elimelech who ask: why is it necessary to have a third book for the Beinonim? If they do Teshuvah and are granted life they should be written in the Sefer Tzaddikim, and if not then they should be written in the other book. Why is the third, separate book, needed? They answer based on the Gemarah in Brachos which says: “Makom Shebale Teshuva Omdin, Tzaddikim Gemurim Ainam Omdim”, one who does Teshuva and sets himself on a new path, is on a higher level than even a Tzaddik Gamur. Therefore, it would be inappropriate for the former Beinonim who do Teshuva to be written in the Sifrei Tzaddikim, because after their Teshuva they are on a higher Madreiga than those who were Tzddikim Gemurim on Rosh Hashana.

This is an amazing thing to conceive: ten days prior these individuals were Teluyim V’Omdim, their ultimate allegiances were not immediately discernable and their fate therefore hung in the balance. Following the Teshuva process, however, it would be beneath them to be inscribed in the Sefer Tzaddikim, for they are beyond that level. Such is the power of Teshuva.

R’ Shimshon Pincus, in another Shmuz, offers a Mashal that can help us understand this phenomenon in a very simple manner.

A man travels to the Shuk Arba Minim in Yerushalayim to pick out his Lulav and Esrog just a few dys before Sukkos, with his young son in tow. The Shuk is bustling with multitudes of people involved in their Yom Tov preparations and the father warns the son to stay close so that he will not be lost in the crowds. But while his father is busy examining an Esrog, the son gets distracted by the shimmering Sukkah decortations on display in another stall and before long the two are separated.

After a short time the man realized that his son is no longer at his side and frantically begins to search for him, asking everyone he can whether they have seen the boy. Eventually he spots some police officers who inform him that a lost child was brought to the local station house. The father runs all the distance to the Police station and arrives breathless, desperately asking the desk clerk if the boy is there. He is led into a room where his son sits, sucking a lollypop that the police officers used to try and placate him, but his red-rimmed eyes reveal that he had been crying for his father for quite some time. The two share a warm embrace and walk off hand in hand to head hom.

Now imagine how tightly that son is holding on to his father’s hand.

The Nimshal really needs no explanation. When we are distracted by shiny objects offered by this world, we stray from our Father in Heaven and are the lost child. When we do Teshuva, however, we are rejoined with him. We share an embrace and embark on a new journey, hand in hand with our Av Harachaman. When we accomplish this feat we hold onto Him with newfound love and an even stronger connection than before we strayed.

This is why “Makom Shebale Teshuva Omdin, Tzaddikim Gemurim Ainam Omdim.” If we are Zoche to do real Teshuva, we are even greater than the Tzaddik Gamur because we are like that lost child returned to his father’s grasp: we hold on even tighter. The Beinonim who do Teshuva between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are written into a separate book because, in a sense, they are beyond the Tzaddikim Gemurim—they are holding on tight.

Perhaps this is why Hester Panim is the tool necessary to propel us to Teshuva Sheleima. Onve we reach a point where we can take personal responsibility and say Al Ki Ein Elokai Bikirbi, we are on the path to Geulah, as the Ramban explained, but we cannot achieve that end until we complete the process.

If we were to then be exposed to Horas Panim, outward displays of Hashgachas Hashem, we may indeed be moved to Teshuva Sheleima, but that would not be the Teshuva of the lost child. While we would still be in Galus, without Hester Panim it would be more difficult to achieve the Kiruv to Hashem that comes when we search for him in the darkness, so to speak. Thus, following the Hester Panim, when we do complete the Teshuva process, the Geulah would bring us closer to Hashem then ever before. Because we have been so far from Hashem, and his Hashgacha so hidden, when we are reunited through our Teshuvah and the ultimate Geulah, we will indeed hold on tight.

As we approach Yom Kippur, and we each try to work on our own path to Teshuvah, I think this is a vital and empowering message.

When we do Teshuvah, we are not merely trying to fix our previous errors, like placing a patch on a flat tire—we are buying a whole new car. If we do Teshuva, if we really decide to turn a new leaf and live our lives by adhering as closely as possible to the Derech HaTorah, we can become closer to Hashem than we ever imagined. We can be like that lost child, reunited with his father.

We too can hold on tight.