When the crockpot’s set on high it boils too hard and dries out the cholent. On low nothing cooks.

The hot-water urn leaks all over the counters.

Get rid of the crockpot and the water urn a little voice says. Why live with broken things?

But the crockpot still cooks and the water urn still boils a bigger voice says. How can you throw them out?

I start to see the whole thing as a state of being. A global dilemma. They are fulfilling their purpose; they’re just not exactly perfect.

There are times I also feel broken.

The other Shabbos we had a guest. He shared how he was petrified of making new friends. He’d had horrendous high school experiences with groups one in particular which brought him close only to push him further away. He isn’t willing to risk it again. He just wants to throw away the entire idea of ever having close ties.

He loudly admits “I’m broken.”

While making shidduchim or looking for jobs everyone advises “Don’t get too happy or excited because maybe it isn’t going to work out. It might not be good in the end.”

It’s true. If you go too high you might burn out and if you stay too low nothing cooks. But I try not to be afraid to be happy while it’s good and be sad when it’s sad.

There’s a house-upkeep technique that teaches “If it’s broken fix it or get rid of it.”

The methodology is that our outward physical possessions or manifestations are a reflection of our inner selves. It’s along the same lines as the story about a father — a great talmid chacham and tzaddik — who went to visit his son in yeshivah. The son was in the middle of learning so his father went to his son’s dorm room to check on his son’s wellbeing. Seeing that his son’s slippers were lined up perfectly under the bed the father knew his son was doing well. He was so sure that he left without even seeing his son.

I read this story years ago. This tells a father about his son’s wellbeing? I thought. He must have had ruach hakodesh to look at a pair of slippers and know everything is all right.

Actually Avraham Avinu does something similar. He goes to Yishmael’s tent in the desert and when he gets there Yishmael isn’t home. To check on his son’s state of affairs Avraham asks Ishmael’s wife for a drink and by her cold ungenerous reaction Avraham knows No good. He leaves a message for Yishmael with the wife: “Change the doorpost of your home.”

Yishmael understands his father’s message and immediately gets a new wife. Avraham Avinu comes to visit once again when Yishmael is away. This time he is offered water food and a place to rest. Avraham leaves a message with Yishmael’s new wife “The doorpost of your home is good.”

Things don’t always work as easily as this. We don’t just throw people out or get rid of them. But ... we can throw out or get rid of the baggage we’re carrying around these people by building and repairing ourselves and setting our hearts and inward reactions to the right settings so we don’t get too heated or too cold. Or just break.

Everyone speaks about not speaking lashon hara but the truth is that if things are broken inside outward signs are going to pour out. If the broken thoughts and judgments are discarded and replaced with healthy sentences — like “she must have had a hard day” instead of “she’s a witch” — everything will work better.

One day I battled with a sink faucet for about half an hour one of those with different spritz settings. That morning the spritz was stuck on high and I was getting totally wet. I twisted it this way and that with no success. Finally I pronounced the entire thing irreparable. Then I found out a few hours later by trial and error that it was simply a matter of pushing the button on top just a little further up.

This is when I learned that sometimes it’s just a matter of a small button.

It’s not necessarily broken.