CAN YOU CHERISH THE TRIGGERS?

An investment advisor decided to go out on her own. She was shrewd and diligent, so business kept coming in, and pretty soon she realized that she needed an in-house counsel. The investment banker began to interview young lawyers.

"As I'm sure you can understand," she started off with one of the first applicants, "in a business like this, our personal integrity must be beyond question." She leaned forward. "Mr. Mayberry, are you an honest lawyer?"

"Honest?" replied the job prospect. "Let me tell you something about honesty. Why I'm so honest that my father lent me $15,000 for my education, and I paid back every penny the minute I tried my very first case."

"Impressive. And what sort of case was that?" asked the investment advisor.

The lawyer squirmed in his seat and admitted, "He sued me for the money."

The most defining event in human history takes place in this week's Torah portion – the opening of the entire Torah -- when Eve and Adam consume fruit from the "tree of knowledge of good and bad." This was a betrayal of G-d's commandment to Adam, "From the tree of knowledge you should not eat.”

After all the explanations, one item remains mystifying. How could it happen? It is not like G-d was starving them. Before He issued the instruction not to eat from one tree, He first said: “Of every tree of the garden you can eat.” This instruction preceded the prohibition against eating from one tree. G-d wanted them to enjoy all the numerous trees of the garden. Why was it so hard to resist that one forbidden tree?

You are at a smorgasbord with hundreds of choices, all available to you. On single dish is off limits to you. What would tempt you to taste that one?

Mark Twain said: “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” We all appreciate the power of temptation. Yet three things make this story unfathomable. 1) Adam heard this commandment directly from G-d, His Creator, and the Creator of the world. 2) He had plenty of other delicious fruit to eat. 3) Adam and Eve were the only humans in history carved by G-d Himself. They were not born from parents; they were G-d’s literal children. For them, the Divine reality was absolutely real. How can they, from all people, fail so miserably?

What is even more astounding is that the Midrash teaches that once Friday evening set in, Adam was permitted to consume from the tree. Could he not hold himself back for three hours?! Even those us with some serious temptation problems can probably do that, especially if there are other options for these three hours!

Mark Twain said: “There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.” It is really a verse in Proverbs: “Stolen waters are sweet; bread which you must eat secretly is pleasant.”

When you are aware of how much is at stake in the victory of your foe, you take out the big guns and mobilize all your resources to defeat him.

It is the only way we can understand the depth of the challenge Adam and Eve faced.

"Never was so much owed by so many to so few" were the powerful words of British prime minister Winston Churchill on 20 August 1940, as Britain prepared for a German invasion. There are moments in history that contain significance not only for those moments but for eternity.

The most defining of such moments was when Adam and Eve confronted the temptation of eating from the forbidden fruit. This was not a challenge confronting two people; all of history was at stake. Every human being is a descendant of Adam and Eve—we are all products of their DNA. If Adam and Eve would fail, it would redefine all of human history and change the entire world.

As a result of eating of the tree, everything changed forever. Self-consciousness was created for the first time; the sense of a separate ego and hence inner shame. From that moment on, Adam and Eve felt compelled to hide from G-d, meaning to hide from the truth. Death came into existence. The first time, G-d asked Adam, “where are you?” We are still asking this same question millennia later.  We do not know where we are emotional; we are unsure of who we are. We have become misaligned from our inner core, purpose, and mission. We must battle hard to realign ourselves—and it is anything but easy.

Hence, the temptation and challenge the snake posed were not of ordinary magnitude. Knowing how important this moment was, the negative inclination represented by the serpent, posed a nuclear-level temptation before Adam and Eve. Because this is the rule: The more important the victory, the deeper the resistance of the enemy. And when all of history is at stake, the resistance reaches unimaginable heights.

The snake knew that if he fails this one, the battle is lost. The challenge he posed to Adam was thus excruciatingly difficult.

It is true in each of our lives. Every one of us is Adam and Eve. As the Talmud says, no two people have the same face, mindset, and personality. A tiny mutation in DNA creates that no two people have ever been the same. Why? Says the Talmud, because every single human male is an Adam, a first, and every female is an Eve, a first. Nobody like you ever existed in the past, or will ever exist in the future. You are unique and indispensable. For every child born, G-d says: I have a unique mission for you. There is something you must accomplish in your life, in your environment, in the world, which only you can achieve through the unique tools given exclusively to you; through your gifts, virtues, resources, and challenges, setbacks, and difficulties. Your character, your disposition, your DNA, your nature, and nurture are the toolbox containing all the instruments you need to fulfill your unique purpose and mission.

And here is where it gets tricky. My inner snake knows what is most important for me. So he musters every possible destructive excuse to paralyze me, particularly in that which I must accomplish most.

King David said it in Psalms: “From my enemies, make me wise.” Literally, he is asking to gain wisdom over his enemies. On a deeper level, he is giving us a life changing message.  “From my enemies, I gain wisdom.” From the things that challenge me, that frightens me, that triggers me, I gain the deepest wisdom. It is from them that learn what I have to work on.

Because the resistance is always commensurate with the value of the work. We are most vulnerable in that which is most important.

Naturally, we run from such resistance. We see the difficulty as a message to stay away. In truth, it is the exact opposite: the reason it is so hard is that it is so important. 

Because Adam and Eve not eating from the Forbidden Fruit was so vitally important, maybe the most important mitzvah in history, hence the challenge and temptation to eat was so astronomically difficult. Adam’s mistake was: He saw the temptation as a full-fledged attack that he could not win. It was just too hard. Little did he know the truth was the exact opposite: It was too hard because it was so important for him to win!

When something or someone is triggering you deeply, and driving you mad, do not run from it; it is a great opportunity to figure out who you are and what you need. Do not run the other way. This is where your most important work lay! That is why it is so hard.

Courageous people are not people who don’t have fear. No! They are people who have fear but do not let fear dictate their lives. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear.

A wise woman once said: “Ultimately we know deeply that the other side of every fear is a freedom.”

Find out what you’re afraid of and go live there. Your fears, hardships, temptations will make you wisest—if you only know how to read them. Fear has a large shadow, but he himself is small. We see the resistance as a warning to flee; when in reality it is nothing but a signal that here lay our work. Being scared is part of being alive; now walk through it.

The Rebbe once wrote a letter to a fellow whose marriage was on the rocks. In it, he shared an incredible idea, rooted in the writings of the Arizal and of the fifth Rebbe, the Rebbe Rashab.

Most souls born in our generations have been here before. They are reincarnations. Why did they descend again? Because some of their missions and work were not achieved in their previous life, so they need to come down again to complete that work.

Now, every soul coming down must observe all of the mitzvot, even those it fulfilled in a previous lifetime. But these do not constitute the primary purpose of its descent. The main purpose of the descent is to fulfill those unique mitzvot and goals which the soul did not do in its previous lifetime.

Hence, for all those mitzvot which are already fulfilled, there will not be much resistance, only a little resistance so that free choice is not eliminated completely. But those goals for which our soul came down—here the resistance will be mightiest. Those actions that I have to fix in my own soul, in my own nature, in my own mind, and in the world around me, which I failed to achieve in previous lives—it is on these things I will encounter the greatest resistance. Since this is so vital and indispensable to my life’s mission.

So, the Rebbe said, when you see something you need to do and it is difficult—this is probably a major reason why you came down to this world. Do not run, and do not fall prey to the resistance. On the contrary, fight harder. This is where your ultimate potential, light, and opportunity rests! This is where you will justify your soul coming down to this world. Do not falter.

The Rebbe concluded the letter to this young man: In your life, judging from the amount of resistance there is to a peaceful and harmonious marriage, it is clear that this is one of the most important missions in your life—to create a beautiful and wholesome marriage, externally and internally. Even if that means you must make compromises. Remember, he says, that your wife is very emotional. And G-d never closes the gates to hear tears. Remember, that blessing in a home and to the husband come in the merit of his wife!

Dr. Miriam Adahan is a successful psychologist and author. When she moved to Israel from the US, in 1981, they lived for a while in an absorption center. There, she writes, I became friendly with a young widow with four children who had come from Iran a year and a half before in 1979. Although she lived in a tiny, one-room apartment and worked as a clerk in the local post office, she had this regal dignity which hinted at a refined background.

As our eleven-year-old daughters became best friends, the story of her previous life had emerged.

In Iran, they had been very wealthy, with servants, beautiful cars, and expensive vacations abroad. Then came the overthrow of the Iranian Shah and the reign of terror against the Jews. One day, a gang of thugs entered her husband's rug store and shot him dead, they defaced the walls with his blood, proclaiming him an agent of the Shah.

Informed of the awful tragedy, a grief-stricken widow knew she had to leave Iran immediately to save herself and her children.

Desperately trying to stay in control she contacted a man who was known to be helping Jews escape over the treacherous mountains through Turkey.

Since unauthorized travel was forbidden and the sale of any household items might arouse suspicions she had to leave most of her wealth behind. She could not tell anyone of her plans, not even her children. She could not pack suitcases, as neighbors might see and report her to the police.

Trembling, and trying not to let her terror show, she took whatever little cash and jewelry she had on hand, and telling her children that they were going shopping, left, never to return.

In the darkness of night, they met their guide at the edge of Teheran. Handing over most of her money and jewelry, the harrowing nightmare began for this brave widow and her four children, and the youngest a girl of three.

In the first few days, they spent eighteen hours at a time on camels. The pain they suffered was so excruciating that they often felt they would collapse.

The mother sustained permanent damage to her back. But each time they complained, the guide yelled, took out his revolver, and said that he would shoot them if they said another word.

They had no choice but to go on.

By day, the sun-scorched them, at night, they froze. As the mountains got steeper, they switched to riding donkeys. Often, the road was so narrow that one wrong move and the donkey and its rider would plunge to the abyss below. The mother said, we cannot continue… we are going back…but the guide yelled, took out his revolver, and threatened to shoot them if they said another word….there is no going back he said.

Once, in their rush to cross a freezing stream, they all lost their shoes in the mucky water. When they reached the other side, they had to walk barefooted on prickly cactus plants and sharp stones. It was a nightmare beyond description.

Wincing in pain, as the thorns and pebbles cut into their flash. With pain and fatigue, the mother and her older son took turns carrying the youngest child.

At another point, they had to make their way across a flimsy bridge made of ropes and wooden slats that stretched between two mountain peaks and spanned a deep ravine. The ropes looked as though they could barely hold their own weight, let alone a group of terrified Jewish refugees. Looking down into the abyss below, the mother froze into utter terror, crying out that she could not possibly go on.

Again, their guide took out his gun and threatened her and her children with death if they did not move. Taking her three-year-old by the hand, she forced herself to grab the rope's, fueled by anger towards the Iranian guide who urged them on so gruffly.

After two-and-a-half weeks of this continuous torture, the small group of Jewish refugees arrived at the Turkish border. There, the guide, who had always been so harsh, so cruel and unsympathetic—suddenly embraced each child warmly and said to the mother:

"Before I leave you, I want to tell you that I, too, am Jewish. I'm sorry I had to be so rough. But if I had been nice to you, you wouldn't have made it. I had to scare you, I had to threaten you,  I had to intimidate you into moving, or you would not have been able to go on".

And with tears in his eyes, he said, "I’m so proud of each and every one of you. You are all true heroes to have made it to this point of freedom." With that, he turned and left to go back in the direction of Iran, while this family eventually made it to Israel and started a new life, in our eternal homeland.

All the while they thought, this guide was a tough gangster, almost shooting them. Really he was their greatest ally, compelling them to get to freedom.

Most of us live, thank G-d, in different circumstances. But there is much to learn from this extraordinary story. like this heroic family, we, too, are on a journey that is often treacherous and filled with challenges and even pain. But one thing we know for sure: our guide always loves us, and that all the difficulties we go through in this world are necessary in order to reach the kinds of freedom and self-determination from our present limitations we may find ourselves.

When you need to accomplish goals, mitzvot, missions that you know are good, valuable, and important, and then encounter your traumas, resistance, and fear—do not run away. Do not surrender. Do not allow these forces to abduct you and paralyze you. Because the real truth is, that they are not your enemies. They are the signals which tell you, even in harsh language, that you have come upon your most important mission in life.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky