A person’s growth is dependent on his thoughts, his understanding, and his choices

“These are the words that Moshe spoke to all Yisrael.” (Devarim 1:1)

T

here are two types of people in the world: those who think about who they are and where they’re headed and those who don’t. The first category is “alive”; the second is frozen in slumber. 

This first type is found in Dor Hamidbar. The Sifri says that due to respect for Bnei Yisrael, Moshe only hinted to Bnei Yisrael’s sins, without mentioning them directly. Furthermore, Moshe only mentioned these subtle hints close to his death, so Bnei Yisrael shouldn’t be embarrassed by him. (Rav Yehuda Leib Chasman, Ohr Yahel)

“I think, therefore I am.” Growing up, this quote was an integral part of my philosophy. As a teen, I envisioned myself as The Thinker, full of deep and original ideas how to change the world and those who inhabit it.

The challenge of this thinking morphed over the years to less weighty topics as my kids challenged my skills with the classic: “What do you think, Ma?”

The choices embodied in this question may have borne the weight of peanut butter vsersus jelly, but still, thinking is a critical component of being an adult, one I’ve tried to hone to success.

Yet, we see that despite the subtle references, Bnei Yisrael were smart enough to take the hint. Furthermore, they were smart enough to think and understand the rebuke that was inherent there, enough so that they were embarrassed in front of their admonisher. That is the example of a nation of thinkers.

At the beginning of this summer, I came down with Covid. Despite the fact that I’ve thankfully never had Covid before (although my doctor says this is highly unlikely), I’d heard enough to be prepared for the muscular aches, the congestion, the feverish chills, and the like. What I had not been prepared for was the brain fog. I was lost in a haze of gray smoke. Even the simplest of questions like what was I about to do right now? left me discombobulated. My brain scrambled to focus, but my creativity, my ongoing cerebral conversations with myself, were lost. I simply couldn’t think. And it petrified me. Was I doomed to a future of confusion?

Eventually, baruch Hashem, the Covid symptoms passed, and I’m once again in tune with the myriad of thoughts and ideas that parade in my mind at any given hour of the day. Yet there are still times when my mind plays these games once again.

Conversely, we see the second group of non-thinkers referred to in this week’s haftarah. Yeshayahu says to Yisrael: “An ox knows his owner and a donkey his master’s manger; Yisrael does not know, my people does not understand.”  (Yeshayahu 1:3)

Man, the highest living creation, is here considered less than an ox and donkey, two of the more ignorant animals. Why have they sunk so low?  Because the nation doesn’t think.

The ox and donkey have natural instincts which lead them to their food, their source of survival. But man is supposed to be more than that. He has knowledge, and a person’s growth is dependent on his thoughts, his understanding, and his choices.  If man thinks and uses that power of understanding, utilizes the tzelem Elokim within him, then he’s a complete person. But if not, he falls to a level lower than even a flea. (ibid.)

Tishah B’Av is coming, and as it approaches my mind once again grinds to a halt. I can’t think. The images of Klal Yisrael, tiny Klal Yisrael, against a backdrop of worldwide hatred, clashes in a kaleidoscope of hostages, of communities destroyed, of slain soldiers — my brain simply can’t compute. It’s too much, Hashem! I can’t think!

But I struggle to align my thoughts, to allow the true messages to penetrate, because without this understanding, what was the point?  Think! I command my brain. Think what this means to you! Think about what Hashem wants from you!

I fast. I daven. I think. I reach Up and form tenuous connections with thoughts much larger than myself. But I persevere. Hashem, I think, therefore I am — Yours.

 (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 905)