A Heroes' Journey

War movies always have the same scene: the soldiers are pinned down.  Enemy fire rains down on them mercilessly.  They are stuck with no channel of relief.

Suddenly one of the men overcomes the mental paralysis and charges forward against good judgment.  He braves the terror and saves the platoon.

Like all good stories there is a hero who challenges his opponent and succeeds where other fail.  Think of Odysseus, Achilles or Daedalus.  In children’s mythology we have Little Red Riding Hood and King Arthur.  Even in our sacred Torah we have David and Goliath.

The reason such tales are woven and we eagerly consume them time and again is because they encourage us. We need them.  We know that these stories are aimed at our lives.  While dragons may not confront us, we have co-workers who defame us.  We have habits that hold us back from excellence.  We know we can succeed if the obstacles that block us would go away.

Life is not static. Our choice is to try our best to hold our position or move forward, just like the solider in the trench.

Their path: “When you try to climb in mountain to prove how big you are, you almost never make it. And even if you do it’s a hollow victory.  In order to sustain the victory you have to prove yourself again and again and again in some other way, and again and again and again driven forever to fill a false image, haunted by the fear that the image is not true and someone will find out.” –Robert Pirsig

The first question every intrepid soul – and we are all heroes in making on a great journey -- needs to ask is whether we are coursing our journey, or someone else’s.  At times we may find that we have not been challenging our dragon.  If we are in pursuit of someone else’s dream we will not be fulfilled.  Our path is unique.

Our path: Once we find our direction we become the storyteller, the journeyman and hero, as long as we continue forward.  This last part is key: “as long as we continue forward.”

In process of becoming a hero, it does not matter whether we are an accountant, teller, stamp collector or mechanic.  We all have massive borders to climb, impenetrable obstacles to overcome and a hero’s welcome awaits us at the end of this trek.  Nobody can tell us where to go or how to proceed.  People may be guides along the route, suggesting other pathways but ultimately their journey belongs to them.  Their story is not our story.

This is the meaning of Rebbe Nachman’s adage, “The world is a narrow bridge and the only concern is to be unafraid.”  It is also the basis of Ben Heh-Heh’s axiom (in the Mishna), “According to the effort is the reward.”

One major component of our life’s journey is to pack well.  Without proper provision how can you hope to conquer your foes?

This is why we study Torah. As any student of the Writ knows, Torah demands immersion.  It insists that we sink our soul into it and unravel its mysteries to provide provender for our adventure.  We are it (as the Talmud states, “Torah and Israel are one”).  When we submerse ourselves in Torah and understand it on one of the infinite number of levels it proffers, we obtain the greatest clues to unlock the mystery our heroic journey.

Insight

Vision is not about what we see but what we allow ourselves to see.

A remarkable new book, Blind Spot, demonstrates many times over how we refuse to see what is in front of our eyes. Instead, what we see is what our mind wants us to see. 

One famous example of this comes from Wilbur Wright who wrote, “I confess that in 1901, I said to my brother Orville that man would not fly for fifty years…  Ever since, I have distrusted myself and avoided all predictions.”  What is beyond our vision generally lies beyond our imagination.

We all have biases that distort vision.  From remembering certain groups of words while forgetting others, to actually not seeing something in front of our face, we program ourselves to not notice certain things.  Did you ever try to point something out to a person who could not see it?

That is why the ancient sages teach us to continually question what we think we know.  Prejudice blinds us to truth.

In fact, the word “invent” comes from the Latin, invenre, meaning “to find.”  When people look to the ordinary and perceive that which they have refused to see before they find, discover, and invent.  Eyes open and newfound vision comes.

Torah strives to continually give us new perspective on the world and ourselves.  Think of it: Every time we read Torah (and we have been reading the same thing for the better part of four thousand years) we see novel thoughts, nuances and approaches to life for the first time.  “Examine it thoroughly for everything is in it,” declares the Mishna. 

It is almost as if new sentences are scripted into the ancient text each night.  How else could these new ideas suddenly appear?  Of course this is not true.  What is fact is that with fresh eyes we find new insight.

On vacation with his family, Dr. Edwin Land’s small daughter, Jennifer, complained that she could not see the picture her father just snapped.  Within one hour, Land had the solution in his head, which eventually became the Polaroid Land Camera.

Don’t like what you see?  Time for change?

All we need is vision to make a new reality.

On Choice

“I dwell in possibility.” Emily Dickinson

In our imaginations anything is possible.  Sometimes our night dreams are an extension of those imaginings.  We conjure up images of vacations, vast wealth, great fortune, friends surrounding us with nods of approval and so much more.  That is why we embrace external changes with such gusto.  Buying the new I-watch will bring us closer to what we know we can become. The same can be said for any acquisition, experience or discovery.   The downside to innovations is becoming overwhelmed by their pace.

Let’s face it, life is challenging.  It takes a strong swimmer to keep up with the currents of change.  From watches to cars, innovation comes at a breathless pace.  Some of it we welcome.  Some we do not.

In the classic Marx Brothers movie, “Horse Feathers,” Groucho loudly sings, “Whatever it is, I’m against it!”  Frankly there are some times when we want to declare, “Enough already!  I’d like a little stability. Enough change!”

We live between these polar extremes of stability and change.  We want both.  At the same time.

We therefore attempt to navigate life between change and predictability.  For example is it true, “No one likes surprises?”  Sometimes.  I bet everyone has been guilty of saying both, “I love surprises!” and “I hate to be surprised!”

I heard an interview with Avatar producer, James Cameron. He noted that NASA’s motto is “Failure is not an option.” Cameron takes the opposite view.  He says that failure is an option. What is not an option is lack of imagination. Cameron distills the argument down to its basic idea: We must find our place in the world of change.  While retaining our imagination, our dreams of what can be, we need not jettison our personal life’s choices.

An illustration: A sales manager assembled his team for a pep talk.  On the screen was a big white spot with a single black dot in the middle.

He asked, “What do you see?”  All replied, “A big black dot.”  The manager said, “That is a poor outlook.  Look at all the white space surrounding it.  Those are all possibilities which are far greater than the dot.”

As sales manager he was correct.  The job of the sales force is to make sales, see more potential customers.  But that does not have to be our outlook.  We can choose our own path in life. 

I hope you take time this summer to mull over the life you choose, your soul’s path.  All things are possible but the choice is always in your hands.

Master of Fate

One of my favorite teachers was Rabbi Levi Yitshak of Berditchev.  Why? Perhaps because he was so full of life and vitality.  Every subject he spoke of, or examined, was infused with a special urgency.  Rabbi Levi Yitshak was aflame with Torah.  It is true that some could not stand his brilliance so they instead retreated to the safety of their minds.  Most however simply stood in his light and absorbed the radiance.  It changed them forever.

Some of the Master’s sayings were:

“You can get a hoarse throat davvening before the lectern.  But not before the Almighty.”

“Life can be so painful.  Know this: Gd Himself is in exile.”

“Lord, Master of the Universe”, prayed Levi Yitshak, “I saw a simple Jew bend down to pick up his tefillin when they fell.  He kissed them so sweetly.  Dear Lord, pick me up, your child.  Kiss me.”

“You can see whether a person really loves Gd by the way she treats people.”

“Your mind is the Holy of Holies”

We are a people in search of life.  To that extent pharmaceuticals are a reasonably safe investment.  They are about the only stock that has not done too poorly in the market downturn.  One reason for the popularity of drugs is that people are looking for some relief to take the edge off living and at the same time make life’s experiences more meaningful.  The best control over a random life, modernity thinks, is to be insulated from pain.

The Master thinks otherwise.  In fact, most of what he is quoted as saying revolves around sensation.  Levi Yitshak’s insistence is that we access joy within.  “Mitzvah g’dola l’hiyot b’simha,” It is a great Mitzvah to celebrate life, to be full of exuberance.  While the advice is simple enough it is not easily done.

There is an ancient tale about the powerful Greek conqueror, Alexander the Great.  He was sitting in judgment.  A man had come before him to plead for his life.  Alexander the Great, after hearing the defendant, pronounced his verdict, “guilty.”

“Your majesty,” he cried. “I appeal.”

“To whom do you appeal?” sneered the ruler.  “There is no one higher in authority than myself.”

“I appeal from Alexander the Small to Alexander the Great.”

There is much more in us.  We know this.  Becoming God’s vision of us would be consummate achievement-- for then we would know that we have become as “great” as deep inside we know ourselves capable of being.

             Earlier this year we read about Avram who was called up by God to leave everything familiar and travel to unknown parts; “to a land that I will show you.”  Yet, no sooner had Avram arrived in the Land when a famine urged him south to Egypt.  So Levi Yitshak asks, ‘Why did God lie to him?’  Why was Avram told that he could live in the new land when famine expelled him from it soon after his arrival?’

             ‘No,’ say s Levi Yitshak.  The Torah says, “that I will show you,” not that will be forever yours.   God was giving Avram a vision of the future, a glimpse of the deep beauty that would sustain him in the darkest times when faith might otherwise abandon him.  So when Avram sought refuge in Egypt from the land’s destitution, he remembered the promise and the vision of the Holy Land.  In the dark nights of terror when Avram feared for his life, he would later recall what he was shown and this was enough for him to survive.

In a seminal work by survivor Viktor Frankl, he questions how survival was possible where every attempt was made to dehumanize the victims of the Shoah.  The camps were to become a mirror of what the Nazis tried to impose upon their victims.  How then to remain human where all vestiges of humanity were absent?  How can a person survive when riven of all hope?  The brutality of the Nazis was matched by their continual treatment of Jews as certainly less-than-human and less-than-animal.  How did those who were able to survive find both the will to live as well as maintain an image of their own humanity in the midst of such depravity?

Those who were able to focus on small acts of courage and keep mental images of hope had the best chance for survival.  Frankl tells tales of heroism like sharing a crust of bread or aiding the sick in the midst of a hell that only promised punishment for acts of goodness.  In this place words of hope could be exchanged provided a glimpse of a possible future.  “The prisoner who had lost faith in the future - his future – was doomed.”  In other words, Frankl, like Avram, saw a picture of how life once was and could become once more… and this was enough to sustain him.

“Life is a journey”, said the rebbe.  “And how we you traverse the road?”  He answered, “We begin with a single step.” 

Our teachers, Masters, and rabbis never indicated to us that life would be unencumbered or simple.  What they did teach us, however, was that with a vision how life can be, we can at least be masters of our own fate.