A teaching from Reb Zusha of Anipoli: it’s possible to serve Hashem even from the lowest traits. He points to a thief and identifies seven qualities worth emulating-acting discreetly, taking risks for a goal, valuing even the smallest gain, inconveniencing oneself, acting with alacrity, maintaining hope, and persisting despite failure.
The world is called an alma d’shikra-a world of deception. That can breed cynicism, or it can be harnessed. The question is not whether narratives exist, but what we do with them.
We live in a time when objective truth feels increasingly elusive. Every report is filtered through bias, angle, and perspective. I recently came across advertisements for a platform that compares how different outlets report the same story. It struck me-not because I consume much news-but because it revealed something deeper: "reality" is often less about facts, and more about framing.
That idea stirred a memory.
As a child, I once walked down Central Avenue in Lawrence thinking about the Chazal: if the Jewish people keep two Shabbatot, we will be redeemed immediately. There is another version-one Shabbat-and much discussion reconciling the two. But at the time, I felt defeated. The solution seemed so simple, yet so impossible. How could we ever get every Jew to keep Shabbat? How many don’t even know they are Jewish?
That question lingered.
Years later, in a conversation with Rabbi Yussie Zakutinsky, I mentioned a tzaddik who spoke harshly about Shabbat desecrators in a certain city. I watched his expression shift. “Just pasken that they’re shomerShabbat," he said.
I was taken aback. What does that even mean?
He explained, You think those Jews are holding back Moshiach? Frame them differently. See them differently. Rule differently.
In other words, use the same koach (power) that the world uses to construct narratives and redeem it.
This is not about “outsmarting" Hashem. It’s about aligning with what He wants. There is nothing more beloved than Jews advocating for one another, finding merit in one another, constructing a narrative of zechut (merit) rather than chovah.
I was reminded of a story with Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz. He once encountered a secular professor on Shabbat and asked where he was headed. The man replied candidly: this is his one day off, so he buys pork and goes to the beach to relax.
Rabbi Steinsaltz responded: “So you keep Shabbat in your way, and I keep it in mine."
At first glance, it sounds jarring. But on reflection, it reveals a deeper posture-not denial, but reframing. Not redefining halakha but redefining how we see a Jew.
After an article I wrote about Shabbat and yom tov basketball in Boynton Beach, someone reached out, disturbed that I could sit by while others were desecrating Shabbat. I explained this approach. Even if one doesn’t fully agree, there is something to understand: the lens we choose matters.
Chazal teach that a person’s judgments of others often reflect their own inner state. Consider the story of Dovid HaMelech and Uriah HaChiti. The Navi, Nathan the Prophet, doesn’t confront David directly. Instead, he tells a story-a rich man stealing a poor man’s beloved ewe. David reacts with moral clarity, condemning the act. Only then does Nathan reveal: “Atah ha’ish" - you are the man.
The judgment David rendered was, in truth, a judgment on himself.
Narratives have that power. They allow us to step outside ourselves-and sometimes, to see more truthfully. But they can also be used in the opposite direction: to uncover merit, to highlight nekudot tovot, to construct a reality of compassion and possibility.
Halacha itself is not always rigidly black and white. The posek considers context, circumstance, the person standing before him. Two people can experience the same act very differently in the eyes of the law. That doesn’t dilute truth-it deepens it.
Chazal tell us that Aharon HaKohen would even alter the truth to bring peace between people. His role was to facilitate union-between husband and wife, between adam l’chaveiro, and ultimately between Hashem and Klal Yisrael.
- The sefarim speak of a profound yichud that takes place during Sim Shalom in Chazarat HaShatz-a union between Kudsha Brich Hu and Shechintei. Just as earthly intimacy requires harmony, so too does this Divine union. There must be alignment, peace, a shared narrative.
Often, Rabbi Zakutinsky pauses the chazzan before Sim Shalom and reminds the congregation to consciously hold a radical thought: that every Jew, across all time, has only ever desired Hashem-and that Hashem, in turn, only acts for our ultimate good.
It is a bold framing. Perhaps even uncomfortable. But it creates the conditions for connection.
We are endlessly creative when it comes to explaining ourselves. It’s time we become just as creative in understanding each other.
Not to distort reality-but to reveal its deeper truth.
If narratives can fracture a world, they can just as surely redeem one.
And perhaps that is how Moshiach comes-not through a new reality, but through a redeemed way of seeing the one we’re already in.
Inside Out column, reposted from 5TJT.