Do you know how to make decisions?

A shadchan (matchmaker) needs an assistant. He hires a young man who seems cut out for the job but is inexperienced. The new hire asks, "I am willing to learn, but I don't know what to do." "Don't worry," the matchmaker says, "For the first few matches you won't be on your own. You will come with me. All you need to do is agree with whatever I say and even embellish it slightly.”

They go to visit a couple who are looking for a match for their son and have been having a hard time. The matchmaker says, "We have found a wonderful girl for your son. Firstly, she is quite good-looking." "Quite good-looking?" interrupts the new assistant. "She is gorgeous! How I wish I could marry such a beauty! Princesses would blush before her grace." The parents are impressed.

"Secondly, she is from a well-to-do family," says the matchmaker. "Well-to-do?" says the assistant. Tell it like it is. Her parents are on the level of the Elan Musk but I tend to think that this family has wealth even greater than anyone imagines." The parents are highly excited.

"Finally, she is quite intelligent," The matchmaker concludes. "Intelligent?" comes the already-expected comment from the new assistant. "This girl would be ranked in the top percentile of intelligence in Mensa. There is no question in my mind that if she were to meet Einstein, he would have found an equal."

The parents are very excited but question the matchmaker. "This seems almost too good to be true. There must be something that you are not telling us."

He responds, "The only minor detail is that she has a small wart on her nose, but it is nothing."

In comes the assistant, "MINOR DETAIL? SMALL WART? THAT WART HUGE! IT MUST BE THE SIZE OF A SILVER DOLLAR AT LEAST! She may even make it into the Guinness Book of World Records."

In the year 66 CE, the Jews of Judea rebelled against their brutal Roman masters. In response, the emperor Nero dispatched an army under the generalship of Vespasian to restore order. By the year 68, resistance in the northern part of the province had been eradicated and the Romans turned their full attention to the subjugation of Jerusalem. That same year, the emperor Nero disappeared (according to Roman history, he died by his hand; according to the Talmud he converted), creating a power vacuum in Rome. In the resultant chaos, Vespasian was declared emperor and returned to the Imperial City. It fell to his son, Titus, to lead the remaining army in the assault on Jerusalem.

The Roman legions surrounded the city and began to slowly squeeze the life out of the Jewish stronghold. By the year 70, the attackers had breached Jerusalem's outer walls and began a systematic ransacking of the city. The assault culminated in the burning and destruction of the Temple that served as the center of Judaism, on the 9th day of Av.

In victory, the Romans slaughtered thousands, some put the number at one million. Of those sparred from death: thousands more were enslaved and sent to toil in the mines of Egypt, others were sold as slaves all over the Roman Empire, while others were dispersed to arenas throughout the Empire to be butchered for the amusement of the public. The Temple's sacred relics were taken to Rome where they were displayed in celebration of the victory.

The rebellion sputtered on for another three years and was finally extinguished in 73 CE with the fall of the various pockets of resistance including the stronghold at Masada.

When the Talmud wants to focus our attention as to what provoked the horror, it shares with us a singular narrative.

The Talmud relates that a Jewish man by the name of Bar-Kamtza was thrown out of a prominent feast in Jerusalem in the presence of many rabbis who did not protest. His ire and shame caused him to go to the Caesar in Rome and declare, “The Jews have rebelled against you.”

Continues the Talmud: The Roman Caesar demanded proof for this assertion. So, Bar Kamtza told Caesar, “Send them an offering to sacrifice on their Altar in the Temple and see if they are ready to sacrifice it.”

Caesar agreed and sent a choice calf with this Jew, requesting that it be offered on the Altar in the Holy Temple. The Jew, Bar-Kamtza, went ahead and blemished the animal, rendering it unfit for sacrifice in the Holy Temple.

The Talmud describes that the Rabbis at the time considered offering it anyhow, to maintain peace with the Roman Caesar. After all, rejecting Caesar’s offering could result in dire consequences, and they felt that maintaining the peace with Rome must override all other considerations. One very respected sage, Rabbi Zecharia, argued against this. His logic was that "people will misinterpret this and say that blemished animals are suitable to be offered on the Altar." He felt this would set a terrible precedent and would distort the precious law about what type of offerings are acceptable.

The Rabbis then considered killing the plotting messenger, Bar-Kamtza, who was clearly a dangerous informer and could cause a full blow-up in what was already a volatile situation, plunging the region into war. By killing him, he would not be able to report to Rome that the offering was rejected. Again, Rabbi Zecharia argued against this saying that "people will misinterpret this and say that one who blemishes a Sacrifice is deserving of the death penalty.” This, he felt, was a dangerous precedent and an immoral act.

As a result, they did nothing; the offering was not sacrificed, and the Roman war against the Jews ensued with full force. After a long siege, Vespasian burnt the Temple, destroyed Jerusalem, murdered untold numbers of Jews, and exiled the survivors.

Regarding this incident, the great Talmudic sage Rabbi Yochanan remarked: "The humility of Rabbi Zecharia destroyed our home, burnt our Temple, and exiled us from our Land."

But is this a fair statement? “The humility of Rabbi Zechariah destroyed our home!” Really? Did Rabbi Yochanan not know that Rome, not Rabbi Zecharyah, was responsible for the war and the destruction? Did he not know that there was a Jewish informer who, sadly, stoked the flames and provoked Rome in the first place? Did he not know that a group of zealous Jews refused all negotiations with Rome and ensured that the only option would be war? Can we really blame Rabbi Zecharya for the calamity—one of the greatest in Jewish history? Is it not too harsh an accusation?

In April 2003, Aron Ralston was climbing in Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah when an 800-pound boulder fell on him and pinned his right arm.

Aron lay pinned for nearly four days before he ran out of water and decided he needed to take some serious, and very painful, action.

Trapped and facing certain death, Ralston chose a final option that later made him an international sensation. Had he been passive, he would have died. But what can he do? No choice seemed good. But he had to decide. And a decision he made!

He pulled out his trustworthy pocketknife and amputated his arm from below the elbow. He wrapped a bandage around what was left of his arm and climbed down to the floor of the canyon. He then hiked downstream where he was spotted by a Utah Public Safety Helicopter and was rushed to hospital. He survived. (Ralston has written an account of his experience, Between a Rock and a Hard Place.)

Sundar Pichai, age 44, was the Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Google. He makes a “modest” salary of $150 million a year.

At one of his presentations, he related the following incident which he witnessed:

At a restaurant, a cockroach suddenly flew from somewhere and sat on a lady. She started screaming out of fear. With a panic-stricken face and trembling voice, she started jumping, with both her hands desperately trying to get rid of the cockroach.

Her reaction was contagious, as everyone in her group also got panicky.

The lady finally managed to push the cockroach away, but... it landed on another lady in the group.

Now, it was the turn of the other lady in the group to continue the drama.

The waiter rushed forward to their rescue.

In the relay of throwing, the cockroach next fell upon the waiter.

The waiter stood firm, composed himself, and observed the behavior of the cockroach on his shirt.

When he was confident enough, he grabbed it with his fingers and threw it out of the restaurant.

Sipping my coffee and watching the amusement, the antenna of my mind picked up a few thoughts and started wondering, was the cockroach responsible for their histrionic behavior?

If so, then why was the waiter not disturbed? He handled it near to perfection, without any chaos. How?

And then I realized: It was not the cockroach, but the inability of the ladies to handle the disturbance caused by the cockroach that disturbed them so deeply.

I realized that it is not the shouting of my father, my boss, my wife, or my husband, that disturbs me, but it’s my inability to handle the disturbances caused by their shouting that disturbs me.

It’s not the traffic jams on the road that disturb me, but my inability to handle the disturbance caused by the traffic jam that disturbs me.

More than the problem, it’s my reaction to the problem that creates chaos in my life.

I understood, he said, that I should not react in life. I should always respond. The woman reacted, whereas the waiter responded.

Reactions are always instinctive whereas responses are well thought of, just and right to save a situation from going out of hand, to avoid cracks in a relationship, to avoid making decisions in anger, anxiety, stress, or hurry.

This is the message conveyed by Reb Yosi and Reb Yochanan. In life, you must make decisions. Passivity is not always an option. If you are a leader, passivity is lethal. Sometimes, in moments of crisis, we like to remain passive, hoping that the problem will somehow go away on its own. But life does not work that way. When you are a leader, you must make a decision. You must decide on a path and pursue it with confidence and courage. Perhaps worse than making the wrong decision is not making any decision at all and just letting things happen “on their own.”

Joining the two narratives, a pattern emerges. Rabbi Zecaryah was a pious and humble man. To not do ever anything “wrong,” he always played it safe. He wanted to be morally perfect and thus avoided tough decisions that always involve the risk of error and moral failure.

Just as the entire moon is reflected in a single cup of water, so the nature of the human psyche can be seen not only at important pivotal moments but also in small encounters.

But history does not work this way—and the sages, Rabbi Yosi and Rabbi Yochanan expressed it bluntly when they put the onus of destruction on Rabbi Zecharya. Modesty, tolerance, and the art of compromise are profoundly noble attributes, but when danger is lurking, they can be lethal. When you have an informer who will go to Rome and testify that the Jews have committed treason, endangering the lives of millions, you must break the law and either sacrifice the blemished animal or get rid of the informer. In real life, you can’t always afford to sit on the fence and pacify all parties. As painful as it may be, you need to take a decisive stand and make tough decisions.8

You need to learn how to make decisions in life—and go with them, even if either decision is imperfect, for the alternative is far more imperfect.

A fellow had just been hired as the new CEO of a large corporation. The current CEO was stepping down and met with the new hire privately in his office, where he handed him three numbered envelopes.

“Open these if you run up against a problem you don’t think you can solve,” the first CEO said.

Things went along pretty smoothly for the first six months, but then sales took a downturn, and the new CEO began catching a lot of heat. He went to his drawer and took out the first envelope. The message read, “Blame your predecessor.”

The new CEO called a press conference and tactfully laid the blame at the feet of the previous CEO. Sales began to pick up and the problem was soon behind him.

About a year later, the company was again experiencing a slight dip in sales, combined with serious product malfunctions. Having learned from his previous experience, the CEO opened the second envelope. The message read, “Reorganize.” This he did, and the company quickly rebounded.

After several consecutive profitable quarters, the company once again fell on hard times. The CEO went to his office, closed the door, and opened the third envelope.

The message said, “Prepare three envelopes.”

Now, contrast this story with another story from the same period—quoted in the same section of Talmud traditionally studied on Tisha B’Av. Here is a story about someone who made a decision. He got much flack for it but see the result!

The year is 70 CE. Rome sent hundreds of thousands of troops to destroy Israel, burn the Holy Temple, massacre the Jews, crush Jewish political independence, and put an end to the existence of the Jewish people as a distinct, sovereign nation. No more would the Jewish people live in their own land, under their government. After years of intensive battles, Vespasian, who would soon become the new Roman emperor, had successfully besieged Jerusalem and brought the Jews to total exhaustion. The city had fallen, people were dying in its streets, there was nothing to eat and complete despair had overtaken the Jewish community. At any moment the city would conquered by the Roman legions and the Temple would be destroyed. The situation was hopeless.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai, the prominent Jewish authority of the time, desired to meet Vespasian. There was one problem, however: the Jewish zealots craved war with Rome, and would not allow any Jew to go and meet with the Romans. Luckily, the head of the zealots, Aba Sikra, was Rabbi Yochanan's nephew. He suggested to his uncle, that he declare himself ill. After a few days, the news would spread that he died. His disciples would then smuggle him in a coffin out of the besieged city of Jerusalem to be  buried outside of the city (according to Jewish law, you don't bury a corpse in Jerusalem.) Once outside of the city, he would be able to meet the soon-to-be emperor.

And so he did. Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai met Vespasian. During their conversation, the Jewish sage left a powerful impression on the Roman general. To the extent, that Vespasian agreed to fulfill any wish the rabbi had.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai had to decide—right then and there.

Now, I ask you, my dear friends, to reflect for a moment: If you were representing an entire nation that is about to be destroyed, and you were granted permission by the mighty conqueror to ask for one thing, what would that thing be?

There are no easy or black-and-white answers to such questions. Nor do you have time to meditate on the right response. History is asking you a question, and you must respond at once.

You can’t be passive at such a moment. You need to decide—and the responsibility is all yours.

Rabbi Yochanan made this request from Vespasian: Give me Yavne and its students.

The city of Yavneh was the home of the central Jewish educational institutions at the time. It was the place to which Jewish students would flock when they wanted to learn Torah, to discover the moral vision of Judaism -- its laws, traditions, spirituality, and theology. Yavneh was the center of Jewish study at the time, and the rabbi asked Vespasian to spare Yavneh and its schools, to spare the Jewish houses of learning.

Vespasian fulfilled his request. He went on to plunder Jerusalem, destroy the Temple, and cut down Jewish sovereignty in Israel. Only the yeshiva in Yavneh was spared from the Roman merciless sword.

You could imagine how much flack Rabbi Yochanan got for this. The Talmud records how other great rabbis scorned Rabbi Yochanan's choice. I mean, for heaven's sake, he could have asked for Jerusalem! Instead, what did he ask for? That the houses of Jewish learning not be destroyed? How parochial can a leader be?

Years later, as Rabbi Yochanan lay dying on his deathbed, he looked back at his life, and his heart gave him no rest. He felt profound guilt and shame.12 "Have I betrayed my people at their most vulnerable hour?" he asked himself. "Have I betrayed my country? Have I betrayed all of Jewish history? Perhaps if I would have asked Vespasian to spare the government he would have agreed, and today we would be in our land?"

"Am I single-handedly responsible for the tragic ending of Jewish existence as an independent nation in our homeland?" he asked himself.

"Maybe, after all, I do belong in hell?" he cried.

His students could not console him. They too were plagued by this question. Has their teacher not made a great, maybe the greatest, historical error?

He and his students did not know the answer to this question, they COULD not know. They were living through the terrible period of the destruction of the second commonwealth and the beginning of a 2000-year-long exile. They could not possibly know the historical implications of Rabbi Yochanan's decision.

But WE who are living exactly one thousand, nine hundred and fifty-six years later – are capable of knowing. We can be the judges of Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai's decision two millennia ago. We can give the verdict of whether Rabbi Yochanan's place is in paradise or hell.

Now, let us forward the "tape recorder" of history in 1956 years.

Where is Vespasian? Where is Titus? Where is Caesar? Where is the Coliseum? Where are the Gladiators? Where is the Roman Empire?

Gone. History. You can read about them on Wikipedia; in history books.

But where is that menorah engraved on the Arch of Titus? Where are the Jewish slaves carrying that menorah from Jerusalem to Rome?

Last Chanukah, 8 million menorahs have kindled the world over in the homes of millions of millions of Jews!

You know, it was the tradition in the Roman Jewish community that Jews would never walk under that arch since it was built as a demonstration of Jewish defeat.

But on the night of May 14, 1948, when Israel was declared a state, the Jews of Rome had a triumphant parade. Where did they march? Under the arch. Their message was clear: "Rome is gone, we're still around."

How DID we have the capacity to survive? How did we endure? Why are we here today?

My friends, it was that moment when Rabbi Yochanan the son of Zakai stood before Vespasian. The rabbi's "small" request from Vespasian was what guaranteed Jewish eternity in the face of the flames that would otherwise consume it. The rabbi's request was what ensured that the Jews would outlive the Romans for thousands of years.

"Give me Yavneh and its students," that is what I ask for.

When Rabbi Yochanan asked Vespasian for Yavneh, he was not sacrificing the Jewish homeland; he was ensuring that the Jewish people would have (what Heinrich Heine called) a Portable Homeland. And this "portable homeland" -- the Torah – would travel with them on all their journeys.

Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai understood that without a physical home, the Jewish people might survive; without a spiritual epicenter, they would certainly perish.

In life we are summoned to lead, to make decisions, to take initiative, to chart a course, to do something. And when we do that, G-d does the rest.

Are you passing the envelope? Do you know how to make decisions? Do you know how to be proactive, rather than reactive? To respond rather than to react? Do you know how to say that the buck stops here, and this is how we will do it?

Today, too, we face many a dilemma in Jewish life. But the worst thing is to stay away from decision-making—to run from leadership and courage. Will we make mistakes? Sure. But here is the deal: one day you might regret some decisions you made. But your regret will be far deeper for decisions you did not make just to play it safe.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky