Pushing the Envelope

Observing the ways that both HASC campers and their parents gave their all to make the best of challenging situations was a powerful object lesson. Charlie saw that mastering simple skills like eating or walking, skills most of us take for granted, could constitute a major achievement for a person who has come into the world with physical or mental challenges. He himself had graduated from an academically competitive high school, but witnessing his campers’ triumphs helped him see that in the grand scheme of things, success might not just be about getting into the best college or landing the most prestigious job.

“Camp HASC made me realize that life is not about outcomes, and success can’t be defined by outer achievements,” Charlie says. “We usually think it’s the people of genius who are born special, who are the leaders, who are going to change the world. But we all come from the same source. We’re all souls, pieces of G-d, at the core, even if our talents are different on the surface.

“The goal is to stretch, to push yourself beyond your limits,” he adds. And while we always have to give it our best when meeting individual challenges, we also have to realize that Hashem can make anything possible.

Charlie illustrates this by referring to a shiur he once heard from Rav Malkiel Kotler, addressing Rashi’s comment that when Yaakov went to lift the cover of the well to help Rachel water her flock, he lifted it “like a cork.”

“Rav Kotler said that Yaakov wasn’t a particularly strong man — he’d been spending all his time learning,” Charlie relates. “It was with Hashem’s help that he was able to lift the rock like a cork. Similarly, Esther HaMalkah wasn’t necessarily the most courageous person, but when she knew the fate of Am Yisrael lay in her hands, she found the courage to approach Achashveirosh. We all have latent potential, but our strengths come out most powerfully when we take responsibility for others.”

“If everyone is telling you you’re doing well,” he cautions, “you’re probably not pushing yourself enough. Which math student is better? The one who takes an easy course and gets an A, or the one who takes a really hard course and gets a D?”

This is a theme he discusses in one of his videos for Aish HaTorah, which takes going to the gym as its starting point. He speaks about how a trainer showed him he wasn’t making any progress by repeating the same workout routine over and over again. The only valuable exercise, the trainer told him, is the kind where you push yourself to higher and higher levels — and of course Charlie then goes on to apply this to spiritual growth.

“Back when I first walked into that bunk at HASC and saw what I’d be doing, I thought to myself, ‘I can’t do this,’ Charlie says. “But that’s the most un-Jewish thing a person can say. First of all, the sentence starts with the word ‘I,’ and nothing in Judaism begins or ends with the word ‘I.’ Second, the word ‘can’t’ is equally not for us. Saying things like ‘I can’t’ and ‘it’s not me’ prevents us from growing.

“When we say, ‘I can’t,’ Hashem answers, ‘Oh, really?’ He’s our Father, and if our Father is handing us a challenge, then it must be something that’s good for us.”

The Giver

While HASC taught Charlie that the race isn’t always to the swift, he came away with yet another revelation: that our deepest sense of satisfaction — what you might call pleasure at the level of the soul — comes from giving to other people. Camp HASC was, to paraphrase the Peace Corps, the toughest job he’d ever love, because it called on him to give of himself like he’d never done before.

He was awed by the strength and love he saw in the children’s parents, and by the campers’ own determination to achieve, albeit at their own level. It soon became clear to him that the biggest heroes are often people whose names never make it into the headlines — the people who, day in and day out, consecrate their lives to the welfare of others, regardless of whether it’s pleasant or convenient or impresses the rest of the world.

Spiritually, people who give of themselves attain a more exalted level, because in doing so they emulate Hashem, the ultimate Giver. In our most important relationships, Charlie says, success hinges on being willing to give more than you get: “Parents always expect to give more to their child than they get back. In marriage as well, you have to be ready to give more than 50-50.”

The same principle even applies in the business world. When he teaches his business classes he tells the students: “Whether you’re running a business for profit, or running a nonprofit organization, your goal should be to give your customers more value than you’re taking from them.”

On the other hand, being a giver doesn’t have to mean becoming a doormat.

“Hashem is not a vatran,” Charlie says. “He does what’s right. You do have to approach giving with chochmah — you can be a giver and still remain smart and firm. It’s important to choose the object of your giving wisely, and determine how much is appropriate for you to give.”

After his summer at HASC, however, he found it impossible to revert to being the kind of person who gives a few dollars to tzedakah and feels exonerated from duty.

‘I can’t’ inevitably turns into ‘I should,” he says. “All my old HASC friends are givers — they’re involved in community work. There are so many worthwhile programs out there. Each person has to take a look and see what he can accomplish.”

For him, the opportunity to give to Klal Yisrael has largely taken the form of reaching out to inspire fellow Jews, both those who are completely unconnected to Judaism, and those who are connected but disenchanted and in need of inspiration. Charlie’s currently a lecturer for the OU, Aish HaTorah, and NCSY, and appears on the Nachum Segal Network; he founded his own organization, Milvado Inc., which develops innovative ways to teach spirituality.

Speaking seems a natural outlet for Charlie, a “people person” who exudes enthusiasm and sincerity — in fact, as we sit sipping coffee, our conversation is interrupted every so often by acquaintances who stop by for a friendly hello. An older man spends a few minutes to tell over his latest joke; Charlie listens patiently and laughs appreciatively. With this sort of approachability and positivity, it’s clear why audiences respond so warmly to his message.

His decision to plunge more deeply into Torah Judaism followed his upbringing in a traditional family, with grandparents who are Holocaust survivors from Munkacz on his mother’s side, and Syrian grandparents on his father’s side. After high school at Yeshiva of Flatbush, he enrolled in Yeshivat HaKotel, where, he says, “I realized the tremendous beauty of Yiddishkeit. I saw the depth and wisdom in every word. The whole world is a manifestation of Hashem, and Torah is our means to connect. That means you live in the physical world, you’re a piece of Hashem, and you have the manual to tell you how to express the spiritual self in a physical world — a kind of perfect storm, if you will, that should turn you into an ohr in everything you do.”

Following months of study in Israel, he continued his yeshiva studies in Sh’or Yoshuv, becoming close to Rabbi Moshe Weinberger and Rabbi Shmuel Brazil. He married, attended law school, and practiced real estate law for about ten years before starting his own company. When asked if he sees any contradiction between professional ambition and Torah middos, he says no.

“It’s all about how you process the business, how you react under pressure. You can be ambitious, hardworking, and sophisticated in business without having to cross any lines, and if you know it’s the right way to go, you don’t have to be soft. Sure, lawyers can play games, but law can also be an amazing way to serve Hashem, through using your analytical skills and pursuing justice.”

Reaching the New Generation

Readily acknowledging that today’s young unaffiliated Jews are a different breed from the spiritual seekers of the 1970s and ’80s, he dismisses the notion that the current generation is less idealistic. On the contrary, he says, today’s world is so shallow that many people are hungry for depth — as evidenced by the fact that New Age cults are a multi-million dollar industry today.

Despite having grown up in a permissive world, young people also aren’t necessarily averse to embracing limits; they’ve learned to be disciplined for things they believe in, like getting good grades or working out at the gym. But today’s high-tech kids want things presented in a fast, tight way that explains to them the whys right off the bat.

“They’re bombarded with information 24/7,” Charlie explains. “So you have to reach them in an immediate, concise way. We all want a connection to Hashem, but each generation has its own conditions, its own language and way of processing information. You have to find the right path into this generation’s hearts and minds.”

For the most part, these are hearts and minds who have no nostalgic memories of Yiddish-speaking, kosher-observant grandparents or Jewish family celebrations. They haven’t been ingrained with the idea that a Jewish person should marry another Jew — so many of them come from mixed marriages themselves, or from divorced homes.

“They have less identity, but they’re still searching,” Charlie maintains. “They’re asking, how would Judaism impact my life? What do I get out of it? They want somebody to show them the big picture, to put it into perspective for them and prove to them it’s meaningful.”

Charlie’s professional credentials help him bridge the secular and religious worlds for college students and young professionals: with his Columbia law degree and successful business track record, he’s the kind of role model they can happily identify with. He talks about subjects they can relate to, such as going to the gym, running marathons, relationships and family. He wears stylish, casual clothing that won’t put off anyone unaccustomed to black hats and white shirts.

The aim is to show prospective baalei teshuvah that a religious life can be a normal, balanced life; unlike some other spiritual paths, Judaism allows a person to be religious while still remaining engaged in professional life, having a family life, even having fun.

“I try to get across that this is a way of life worth investing in,” he says. “It’s the best life! Who wouldn’t want it? We do it for Hashem, but not because He needs it. He gave us Torah for our own benefit.”

Those who become baalei teshuvah hold a special place in his heart, he says, because unlike people who are Torah-observant by upbringing, they made a decision to “marry” the Torah.

“There are two ways a person can conceptualize his relationship to Hashem,” he explains. “You can see it as a parent-child relationship, with Hashem as a Father, or you can see it like a marriage.”

The “Hashem as Father” view is more typical of people who were raised religious; Hashem is viewed as the authority figure who imposes restrictions on us, like, l’havdil, a parent who expects his children to do their homework.

“Would a kid willingly choose to go to school?” Charlie asks. “Never! But of course it’s good for him in the long run. In the same way, Hashem doesn’t give us ‘homework’ because He needs our homework. He gives it because it’s for our good.”

Unfortunately, some of those who only see Judaism like a parent-child relationship will always feel a certain sense of constraint, and consequently the urge to push back against unwanted coercion.

The baal teshuvah, on the other hand, chooses Judaism rather than having it imposed on him. Hence, he approaches Torah the way he would approach a marriage, as a relationship of love, not of authority.

“In a marriage, we don’t feel like the restrictions cramp our style,” Charlie says. “Instead, they allow you special access to the other person. Faithfulness allows you to know your spouse more deeply, and in the end that’s more satisfying than running around.”

Too often, he has heard things from young people that suggest they’ve absorbed ideas about punishment and going to hell that derive more from other religions than their own, and which sap the positivity and simchah from Jewish practice.

“On Yom Kippur, we shouldn’t feel terrible because we’re afraid of being punished,” he says. “We should feel guilty for having let the yetzer hara get the better of us, thereby letting Hashem down.”

When teens show a lack of interest and commitment to Judaism, he finds it can often be traced back to a lack of passion in their parents: how can the children feel inspired when their parents are yawning? He attributes the apathy, at least in some cases, to a failure of education; there are people who were taught more about the hows than the whys in yeshivah.

“In this generation, we can buy everything we need,” he says. “It’s easy to be Jewish, so we have the space to go deeper in, to learn the whys, not just the hows of Shabbos. It’s the whys that establish a meaningful connection.”

That, in essence, is what kiruv work is meant to do: explain the whys to us, so we’ll all be able to grasp that meaningful connection to Hashem. But as any marketing expert will tell you, it’s not just the message that sells a product — sometimes it’s the messenger as well. In Charlie’s case, even those who aren’t convinced of the message can’t help but be swayed by the sincerity and passion of the messenger.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 442)