What if God was one of us?

If anything, we are one of Him. Our desires, passion for good, and unquenchable yearning for change are all rooted in the divine. All too often, it would seem, at this most awesome time of the year, we more than anything feel estranged from God. Pep talks, attempts at feeling a sense of fear, and even God's majesty are likely to be met by not closeness but rather a sense of exceptionalism - God, the ethereal, ever so far away, whose desires we have to understand, but not to whom our desires need to be communicated. 

I personally believe that at this time of year what's necessary more than anything else is to re-meet our inner selves, to take the time to discover our unique Godly voice in the form of understand ourselves and realizing that who we are, is an expression of the above - in a way that gives life fresh breath, belief in a better hope or dream. The recognition that God created the world with each and every one of us in order to create greatness in His name is in my humble opinion the greatest form of teshuva. 

As an educator I believe that all too often the approach is a cookie cutter one. I saw a yeshiva student this past Sunday night looking on enviously at the basketball players on the court; after the intensity of Rosh Hashanah - and all the time with the kids - it seemed like more people than usual wanted to hit the court. I asked him - the student, 18, he told me - how come he doesn't play? He told me he just came to watch. The lie was too blatantly obvious to be true. I asked which yeshiva g'dola he was from - knowing based on his dress, perfectly-fitting tailored pants, all-too smoothly starched shirt, tzizit in perfect formation (of exact same length, without a loose thread), that he was from Wolfson and no other. I asked him if he had any classmates from Maarava there; sheepishly he said yes; I asked, "Who?" and he said, "I don't know all of their names yet." I told him, Maarava students also come here, and he gave me a half-embarrassed smile, knowing exactly what I was getting at, the shtantz, the mold that has to be fit at the price of dear life itself. 

I hope that I am not being heretical, but rather than looking on, green with envy, it would be far better for that buchur to put shorts on under his pants, and on a nearby bench change into proper attire, walking back after the game donning his yeshiva garb, don't ask, don't tell! 

Perhaps that's a symbol, a way of asking ourselves what desires we too have that we have left unmet. It is liberating to know that we are not God, but even more than that, I think God wants to know that we bring our unique, liberated ideas to learning, to playing, to discovering and even provoking ourselves out of complacency, and by virtue of doing so, we do a greater service for God and ourselves than trying to be a carbon copy of those in our surroundings. 

 

 


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