“RABBI’S MUSINGS (& AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh Parshas Terumah
7 Adar I 5784/ February 16, 2024
IN THE MIDDLE
When flying, some people prefer aisle seats, so they don’t have to bother
anyone else when they want to get up. Other people prefer the window seat so
they can enjoy the incredible views outside. But I don’t know anyone who
prefers a middle seat. It’s the worst of all worlds. From the middle seat you
can’t really see out the window and you don’t have direct access to the aisle.
In addition, it seems to be an unwritten rule that the person in the middle
doesn’t have dibs over the armrests. He must defer to his seatmates on either
side.
In my younger years I was very much a window seater. I was, and am,
fascinated by the wonder of flying and love looking out the window. As I’ve
gotten older, I’ve begun to prefer aisle seats so I can stretch my legs at
will. On my recent trip to Eretz Yisroel however, I apparently booked my seat
too late and was designated a middle seat. Although it definitely wasn’t what I
would’ve chosen, it was worth the discomfort to get to Eretz Yisroel.
When I boarded the plane and arrived at my seat, there was an elderly man
already seated in the aisle seat and an elderly woman in the window seat. The
man got up to allow me to go to my seat. Two minutes after I sat down, the man
on my left turned to the woman on my right and asked her something, and she
replied. A minute later she asked him a question, and he replied. I realized I
was seated between a married couple. He wanted the aisle while she wanted the
window, and I was stuck in between. They were very pleasant, but it was a bit
of an awkward ten hours.
A few days later I saw the same couple on the side of the road in Geulah.
They hadn’t seen me yet, so I walked in between them and announced, “This feels
familiar”. They looked up with confusion. Then they saw me and laughed.
It brought back memories of the middle seat in the front row of a car.
Today, that seat doesn’t exist. But in my youth, I remember many occasions
sitting in the middle seat between my parents. I can’t even imagine driving
anywhere today with one of my children sitting in the front between my wife and
myself. Aside from the discomfort, how would my wife and I discuss anything if
a child was sitting between us, instead of trying to eavesdrop from the back?
I am grateful to my younger two siblings who rescued me from being a
middle child. Middle children often feel that they get lost in the shuffle and
have various gripes that include feeling somewhat forgotten.
In my early days of rabbanus a veteran rabbi explained to me that in most
congregations 10% of the congregation will love the rabbi and back him almost
regardless of what he says or does. Another 10% of the congregation will
disdain the rabbi and challenge him almost regardless of what he says or does.
The middle 80% fluctuates.
It’s to them that the rabbi should focus his efforts. The wise rabbi
doesn’t waste too much time trying to convince the naysayers; their minds are
already made up. Instead, he seeks to maintain a warm and positive relationship
with the wavering mass in the middle.
In classrooms there is a constant tension all teachers must contend with
– whom to cater their primary efforts towards. Do they focus more on the
quicker students of the class or on the students who need added explanation to
grasp what is being taught. No matter which the teacher chooses, he/she should
always be mindful of the students in the middle who often slide through the
system.
Middles get a bad rap. But there is great significance and value of the
middle.
The Gemara (Megillah 21b) notes that the menorah in the Beis Hamikdash
had three branches on either side of the middle branch. The flames atop each of
the branches faced the middle one, while the middle one faced the Holy of
Holies, where the Shechinah was. Rabbi Yochanan noted that the middle candle
atop the menorah demonstrated that the middle is special.
Beginnings are challenging but they are also exciting. We gear up for new
challenges and prepare for them. Endings are also special, fostering feelings
of accomplishment and/or closure.
We celebrate book ends. We have Siddur and Chumash parties for our
children when they begin davening/learning. We also have graduations to
celebrate and mark the completion of their studies. In between there is a long
stretch of unremarkable learning and studying. But it is there in the elongated
uncelebrated middle that the real learning and growth takes place.
The Mishnah (Avos 3:7) states that if a person is walking on the way and
he interrupts his studies and declares, “How beautiful is this tree”, or, “How
beautiful is this plowed field”, the Torah considers him as if he is liable for
his soul.
What is so pretty about a plowed field? In addition, why is a person
liable for his soul for admiring beautiful landscapes?
Rabbi Label Lam suggests that the beauty of a plowed field lies in its
potential. Only a farmer who appreciates how much produce and profit can be
generated from a yet uncultivated field would see it as beautiful. A plowed
field represents potential waiting to be actualized, the coveted initiation of
a potentially profitable process. In contrast, a beautiful tree represents
actualization and accomplishment. A blooming tree stands regally bearing its
luscious fruits, waiting to be picked and enjoyed.
We all travel the paths and roads of life. Rabbi Lam suggests that the
subject of the Mishnah is trying to accomplish and grow but feels that his
growth is stymied and stagnated. He admires young children, analogous to plowed
fields bursting with potential. He recalls when he himself set out on the path
of growth wide-eyed and confident before he became burned-out. He also admires
those who have accomplished and brought their dreams to fruition, analogous to
beautiful fruit producing trees. He sighs, feeling that his own dreams will
never be actualized.
The Mishnah warns that such a defeatist attitude destroys the soul. It
depletes confidence and squashes dreams.
We are always in the middle of the paths of life. The middle may not feel
exciting. But that is where one’s main efforts must be invested. As long as one
can stay the course and maintain a sense of mission and direction, that is a
success.
Shabbat Shalom
& Good Shabbos,
R’ Dani
and Chani Staum
stamtorah@gmail.com