Remembering the old days
The Midrash, a 2,000-year-old compilation of Jewish ethics, spirituality and biblical commentary, relates the following episode:(1)
During the days of the Roman Empire, says the Midrash, in the city of Tziporin, a Jewish village located to the west of Tiberius in the upper Galilee, lived an ordinary tailor by the name of Yusta. He served as the local tailor of the city's residents and had his spot along the main street, where he would sit all day and tailor cloth.
During a visit to mighty Rome, this simple man somehow managed to encounter the emperor and find favor in his eyes. As a gesture, the emperor offered to grant Yusta any wish he had. This tailor requested to be appointed as governor over his native city, Tziporin.
When the newly appointed governor returned from Rome to his town, the Midrash says, an argument ensued: "Some people who recognized him said that the governor is indeed none other than Yusta the tailor, while others argued that this was not the tailor."
One wise man suggested an idea to determine the truth: As the new governor is about to parade through the market place of the city, advised the wise man, we ought to look out for the moment when the governor will pass by the location where for many years he sat and tailored cloth.
"If upon passing this location," the wise man suggested, "the governor will turn his head in that direction and gaze at that spot where he sat and tailored, we will know that he indeed is Yusta; but if he passes by and does not turn his eyes toward that location, we will know that he is not Yusta."
When the governor finally arrived and paraded down the main street, passing by his former place of work, the governor indeed turned his head to gaze at his former location of work, and everyone realized that he was none other than Yusta the former tailor.
Two questions
Two questions come to mind:
A) Living together with Yusta for many years, how did the townspeople not recognize the face and countenance of their landsman? And if, for whatever reason, they could not determine his identity, why did they not ask him, or one of the members of his entourage, who he was? Did they really have no choice but to debate the identity of their governor?
B) The Midrash, being a part of Torah, is not merely a book of tales and episodes; rather, it is meant, as every single other word in Torah, to serve as a blueprint for life, a document to guide, inspire and instruct the human being and the human race in their journey toward fixing the world.
This begs the question: Why does Torah choose to share with us this tale of a tailor convincing his former neighbors that he became a governor? What message of inspiration lies in this cute episode?(2)
The struggle of power
One possible interpretation may be that the debate of the townspeople concerning the true identity of their governor was not whether the newly appointed governor was their very own Yusta the tailor. That was most likely obvious for all who looked at the face of the governor. The argument involved a far deeper question of whether the new governor still professed those refined and pietistic qualities that he had when he was a simple tailor. Had Yusta, the kind, genuine and humble spirit, retained his human and moral authenticity upon rising to power; or had the old Yusta "died," only to be replaced by a new pompous, egotistical, self-centered and manipulative politician?
Did Yusta sell his soul for the sake of political correctness and might? Did he lose that spark of moral dignity that makes us human, or did the old tailor still possess the ability to view himself as a simple man who was created to serve G-d?
This, perhaps, was the significance behind the test orchestrated by the wise man. We must determine, said the wise man, if, while parading through the city as its new boss, Yusta still possessed the subtle skill of looking back at where he came from, of remembering his former life as a tailor.
For this is the true test of a leader: Can he earnestly look back and recall that which was sacred and precious to him before he was promoted to a high position of honor? Can he still see himself as a simple, authentic and vulnerable human being?
Yusta passed the test. Even as governor, he forgot not the place he came from. He looked back and recalled the "spot" where he sat and sewed for many years. He remembered that he did not own his power, but that it was a gift to be used as a means to serve G-d and His children.
How is your soul?
This, essentially, is the primary theme of this time of the Jewish calendar, when we are about to bid farewell to a year gone by, and prepare to embrace a new one in its stead.
The last month of the Hebrew calendar, known as the month of Elul, is the time designated from above to focus on whether our careers, successes and pressures of life have robbed us of our pristine humanness and authenticity. Have we become self-made men who worship their creator, or can we still look out to the real Creator of man?
This question is asked of us as individuals and as a people, spanning 3,700 years. Many of us, thank G-d, have risen to positions our grandparents could have barely dreamed of. Like Yusta of the Galilee, we have substituted our grandparents' tailor shops on the Lower East Side with lucrative careers and professions in commerce, politics, academia and the arts.
Yet, the question is, do we still have the inner power to turn around to see the spot where our grandparents ? new arrivals at Ellis Island ? labored, and recall the moral and spiritual power that made the Jewish people tick for thousands of years? Or, perhaps, in our forceful drive to succeed and integrate, we forgot what it really means to be a Jew, to be obsessed with good and horrified by evil?
During this month, we are granted the power to trace our lives back to our roots; to peek into our innermost heart and discover the presence of G-d waiting to be embraced.
Footnotes:
1) Midrash Rabah, Shir Hashirim, end of section 6.
2) Literally, this part of the story serves only as an introduction to the end of the Midrashic story in which the tailor himself also expressed astonishment over his appointment, to which the people of the town applied to him the declaration in the Song of Songs (6:12), "I know not why my soul was placed in a chariot." However, to convey the astonishment of the tailor and the verse applied to him, there was no need to relate how the residents of the town figured out that their new governor was indeed Yusta. The fact that the Midrash chose to record this part of the story as well demonstrated that it contains timeless gems of moral inspiration, as every other story and idea in Torah.
[My thanks to Rabbi Nir Gurevitch, spiritual leader of the Australian community of Surfers Paradise, for turning my attention to this interesting Midrashic episode and its moral lesson. My thanks also to Shmuel Levin, a writer and editor in Pittsburgh, for his editorial assistance.]
The Midrash, a 2,000-year-old compilation of Jewish ethics, spirituality and biblical commentary, relates the following episode:(1)
During the days of the Roman Empire, says the Midrash, in the city of Tziporin, a Jewish village located to the west of Tiberius in the upper Galilee, lived an ordinary tailor by the name of Yusta. He served as the local tailor of the city's residents and had his spot along the main street, where he would sit all day and tailor cloth.
During a visit to mighty Rome, this simple man somehow managed to encounter the emperor and find favor in his eyes. As a gesture, the emperor offered to grant Yusta any wish he had. This tailor requested to be appointed as governor over his native city, Tziporin.
When the newly appointed governor returned from Rome to his town, the Midrash says, an argument ensued: "Some people who recognized him said that the governor is indeed none other than Yusta the tailor, while others argued that this was not the tailor."
One wise man suggested an idea to determine the truth: As the new governor is about to parade through the market place of the city, advised the wise man, we ought to look out for the moment when the governor will pass by the location where for many years he sat and tailored cloth.
"If upon passing this location," the wise man suggested, "the governor will turn his head in that direction and gaze at that spot where he sat and tailored, we will know that he indeed is Yusta; but if he passes by and does not turn his eyes toward that location, we will know that he is not Yusta."
When the governor finally arrived and paraded down the main street, passing by his former place of work, the governor indeed turned his head to gaze at his former location of work, and everyone realized that he was none other than Yusta the former tailor.
Two questions
Two questions come to mind:
A) Living together with Yusta for many years, how did the townspeople not recognize the face and countenance of their landsman? And if, for whatever reason, they could not determine his identity, why did they not ask him, or one of the members of his entourage, who he was? Did they really have no choice but to debate the identity of their governor?
B) The Midrash, being a part of Torah, is not merely a book of tales and episodes; rather, it is meant, as every single other word in Torah, to serve as a blueprint for life, a document to guide, inspire and instruct the human being and the human race in their journey toward fixing the world.
This begs the question: Why does Torah choose to share with us this tale of a tailor convincing his former neighbors that he became a governor? What message of inspiration lies in this cute episode?(2)
The struggle of power
One possible interpretation may be that the debate of the townspeople concerning the true identity of their governor was not whether the newly appointed governor was their very own Yusta the tailor. That was most likely obvious for all who looked at the face of the governor. The argument involved a far deeper question of whether the new governor still professed those refined and pietistic qualities that he had when he was a simple tailor. Had Yusta, the kind, genuine and humble spirit, retained his human and moral authenticity upon rising to power; or had the old Yusta "died," only to be replaced by a new pompous, egotistical, self-centered and manipulative politician?
Did Yusta sell his soul for the sake of political correctness and might? Did he lose that spark of moral dignity that makes us human, or did the old tailor still possess the ability to view himself as a simple man who was created to serve G-d?
This, perhaps, was the significance behind the test orchestrated by the wise man. We must determine, said the wise man, if, while parading through the city as its new boss, Yusta still possessed the subtle skill of looking back at where he came from, of remembering his former life as a tailor.
For this is the true test of a leader: Can he earnestly look back and recall that which was sacred and precious to him before he was promoted to a high position of honor? Can he still see himself as a simple, authentic and vulnerable human being?
Yusta passed the test. Even as governor, he forgot not the place he came from. He looked back and recalled the "spot" where he sat and sewed for many years. He remembered that he did not own his power, but that it was a gift to be used as a means to serve G-d and His children.
How is your soul?
This, essentially, is the primary theme of this time of the Jewish calendar, when we are about to bid farewell to a year gone by, and prepare to embrace a new one in its stead.
The last month of the Hebrew calendar, known as the month of Elul, is the time designated from above to focus on whether our careers, successes and pressures of life have robbed us of our pristine humanness and authenticity. Have we become self-made men who worship their creator, or can we still look out to the real Creator of man?
This question is asked of us as individuals and as a people, spanning 3,700 years. Many of us, thank G-d, have risen to positions our grandparents could have barely dreamed of. Like Yusta of the Galilee, we have substituted our grandparents' tailor shops on the Lower East Side with lucrative careers and professions in commerce, politics, academia and the arts.
Yet, the question is, do we still have the inner power to turn around to see the spot where our grandparents ? new arrivals at Ellis Island ? labored, and recall the moral and spiritual power that made the Jewish people tick for thousands of years? Or, perhaps, in our forceful drive to succeed and integrate, we forgot what it really means to be a Jew, to be obsessed with good and horrified by evil?
During this month, we are granted the power to trace our lives back to our roots; to peek into our innermost heart and discover the presence of G-d waiting to be embraced.
Footnotes:
1) Midrash Rabah, Shir Hashirim, end of section 6.
2) Literally, this part of the story serves only as an introduction to the end of the Midrashic story in which the tailor himself also expressed astonishment over his appointment, to which the people of the town applied to him the declaration in the Song of Songs (6:12), "I know not why my soul was placed in a chariot." However, to convey the astonishment of the tailor and the verse applied to him, there was no need to relate how the residents of the town figured out that their new governor was indeed Yusta. The fact that the Midrash chose to record this part of the story as well demonstrated that it contains timeless gems of moral inspiration, as every other story and idea in Torah.
[My thanks to Rabbi Nir Gurevitch, spiritual leader of the Australian community of Surfers Paradise, for turning my attention to this interesting Midrashic episode and its moral lesson. My thanks also to Shmuel Levin, a writer and editor in Pittsburgh, for his editorial assistance.]