What if God Was One of Us

The answer is, it would be pretty darn bad. 

This week's parsha speaks to four different situations where one accidentally sins, and the consequent atonement process. 

On Shabbat, a friend asked me, "Why does the verse  say, 'When a chieftain (i.e. leader) sins, unwittingly bearing guilt by performing an act Hashem has commanded him not to do (Vayikra 4:22)..?' Why doesn't the Torah say "If" like it says for all of the other transgressors, 'If the annointed priest sins...If the high assembly sins...If a layman sins..?' What distinguishes between the Nasi or tribal chief, or head of Israel, and every other potential sinner'"?

I told him, "You see, it's like the expression, 'She'elat Chacham, Chatzi Teshuva' (the question of a wise person, is already half the answer). A person who has to lead others, will inevitably get his hands dirty."

You can't lead without making mistakes, you can't be human without erring, and you certainly can't grow without falling. 

The powerful insight in this week's parsha is that on every level, one who sins, errs and falls is normal, and not just that, but the willingness to accept that - something that King David could, but his predecessor Saul, really could not - means the difference more than anything between living a joyful and humane life, and one that's full of neuroses and a sysiphic struggle for perfection that leaves you simply put, in the very same place where you started. "The enemy of excellence is perfection," and more than anything, the atonement process is what teaches us how far we are from being God and utterly lonesome it would be if we were. 

The German philosopher, Hegel, once said, "Freedom is the recognition of necessity," and the quicker we realize that, the better. The very high priest, the first of the four unwitting sinners in this past week's parsha, comes to learn that the sacrifice brought for an unwitting sin is no less holy than a consecrated offering; his bull offering is burnt on the very ashes taken from the offerings that were burnt on the altar – their end is one, they go to the same place, and to the extent the high priest can use his fall to grow and learn, they are both equally part of the tapestry of his life. 

The Chazon Ish, a great Torah scholar, was once asked by a friend, "Vus Machstu?" and his simple answer - published in one of a series of articles about his life on his yahrzeit, was no other than, "Chayim (We live)." His friend asked, "Vos maynt dos (What does that mean)?" and the Chazon Ish answered, "Chot'im, osim teshuva, chot'im, osim teshuva (We sin, we do teshuva, we sin, we do teshuva)."

There's no more humane expression, really, than making mistakes - even BIG ones, and then, simply put, moving on. 

King Saul's life was degraded into an obsessive pursuit of David, his nemesis, losing any sense of normalcy, and overtaken by bitterness and animosity. He was unable to function as a father, or coherent leader. He lost all of that because he couldn't say, "My bad," or however a king might say, "I messed up." David's willingness to do the very opposite (a recognition he could make because of Saul's failure to do so) is what made the Davidic line eternal, one that we pray for daily in Shemone Esrei, one we yearn for constantly. 

With the endless barrage of missiles now striking us, may Hashem continue to protect us and watch over each and every Jew, in Israel and abroad.