G avi was on fire. Luckily he wasn’t literally on fire.

Although he’d done enough over-the-top things that it probably wouldn’t have surprised me to hear that something involving him and fire had happened at one point or another.

Gavi was no longer acutely manic and dangerous although his bipolar disorder wasn’t under perfect control. Many of the medications he’d tried had left him with intolerable side effects. So while his current regimen was well tolerated he was only willing to take his meds intermittently. This led to imperfectly treated symptoms. And while the fire was well controlled enough that no one was calling 911 his coals were still red hot under a thin layer of ash.

That was how he came to me — relatively calm but still smoldering and without too much hope from his parents or previous psychiatrist. Their goal was to see if a frum doctor could convince Gavi to take his medications regularly. It seemed like a lofty hope but I was up to the challenge.

We schmoozed for a bit and I got to know him. By the third visit Gavi had begun to open up to me and entered my office with a fireball: “Why does everyone think it’s a problem that I love Hashem so much? I’m not hurting anyone or doing anything against the Torah so what’s their problem?”

Gavi’s question was a window into his world. This was the essence of his perspective and the key to helping him find a motivation for change.

“Sometimes you’re just too powerful in your avodah ” I responded. “Remember the other week when you jumped in front of the mohel’s car after your cousin’s bris milah? You smashed his windshield with your fists.”

“I just love Hashem so much and wanted to share it with everyone ” Gavi explained. At least the connection between his intentions and actions was clear to him. My guess was that it wasn’t too clear to anyone else involved.

“It’s a wonderful idea to let everyone know how much you love Hashem ” I said — and this was the truth. “But you have to be careful how you do it. What did smashing a windshield have to do with loving Hashem?”

“I guess it’s hard to explain ” he said. “There were just a lot of secular people there and I wanted to show them how important the Torah is.”

“So you smashed the mohel’s windshield?”

“I told you it was hard to explain Dr. Freedman. I just want everyone to understand how amazing Hashem is.... I love doing kiruv.”

“Gavi the best way to do kiruv is to be a calm and loving person. The biggest kiddush Hashem is when a guy with a kippah and tzitzis is simply being a mensch.”

“I hear that but the situation is dire Dr. Freedman. Don’t you know how many people out there have never kept a single Shabbos?” Then came his revelation. “That’s why I’m not taking my meds at all anymore because there’s just too much work to do and I need the energy to stay awake all night to get it done!”

“I figured as much Gavi.” I guessed that being off his medication explained why he was still the fiery angel of smiting. “Gavi your mission to teach the world about Torah is beautiful but you’re driving folks away with your behavior. You’re not in control and you’re having the opposite effect on people.”

“What do you want me to do just take my meds and be quiet?” He didn’t like this sort of conversation and I’d have to be careful in guiding him to reach the conclusions that someone else would have thought obvious.

“Heaven forbid Gavi. I just want you to be the most successful kiruv machine you can be. But you have to remember — no one’s going to want to come over for Shabbos dinner with you when you’re out of control.”

Gavi thought for a moment and then responded less testily “So what should I do then?”

“You should be peaceful and loving and in control.”

“By taking my medications... How exactly is that going to help?”

“No one wants to be kiruv-ed at 3 a.m. anyways Gavi so who cares if the medications make you tired and you sleep a bit. If you can get a better night’s rest and stay calm people will be more interested in hearing your message.”

“Fine Dr. Freedman but what if it doesn’t work? What if people are still out there desecrating Shabbos? There’s so much work to do and you know it!”

“Geulah is a process not an explosion Gavi. That’s why the Shemoneh Esreh talks about tzemach Dovid and the sprouting of redemption. All good things take time.”

“Okay I guess I can give it a shot for a bit. I can be a gardener and help sprout geulah if it means people will hear my mussar better and will want to come for Shabbos.”

I smiled and told him “Gardener Gavi sounds great. It suits you much better than being a demolition man.”

Gavi laughed and shook my hand. He took a refill for his medications put on his jacket and said on his way out the door “I guess the co-pays for my medication are cheaper than repairing broken windshields.”

We all need a bit of fire in our lives to stay excited about our work our learning our tefillah. For Gavi keeping it on simmer was powerful enough! (Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 657)