Last night I
went to a ukulele group that I haven’t played with in a few months. At one point, Stu, the group leader called me
forward to play and sing at the microphone in front of the group. Familiar with my baritone voice, he wanted it
behind the lead singer for a particular number.
But I didn’t really want to get up; I was happy to play from my seat in
the front row.
“C’mon, don’t be shy!” he coaxed.
If you know me, you know that I’m not
shy. But I was simply happy to sing from
my seat, I assured Stu that I would be heard since I project nicely, and we
proceeded to sing the number.
Driving home later in the evening, I
thought about why I’d been happy to stay in my seat and not get up to the
mic. I was, in reality, practicing a
principle called tsimtsum. The
principle is from Kabbalah, and the closest English translation of the term
would be something like ‘self-diminution.’
The principle comes to explain why G-d
is not always immediately discernable through our senses, why G-d chooses to
dwell only in the spirit realm. If G-d
inhabited the material world as a physical being, He would so fill the world
that there would be no room for us, humanity, to act independently and of our
free will. And that would not be a good
thing, since we’re supposed to have free will. In fact, where we’re told in Genesis 1:27
that we are made ‘in the image of G-d,’ our tradition understands that phrase to
mean that we, like G-d, have free will and knowledge of good and bad. This, in contrast to our close cousins, the
animals. Whilst we share certain
characteristics with the animals – with some species more than with others –
animals do not have the same moral agency.
So in order for us to not be
completely overwhelmed by G-d’s Presence, G-d practices tsimtsum, self-diminution
to give us space to develop our own moral agency.
Since I learned the principle whilst
in school, I’ve tried to practice tsimtsum during the course of my
rabbinate. It’s not that I’m comparing
myself to G-d, lehavdil! But a
rabbi’s presence can be overwhelming to others at times. As a result, in the interests of bringing out
others’ talents and abilities, I’ve made it my habit to practice tsimtsum, to
try to avoid asserting myself when such assertion is unnecessary. That way, other Jews can feel that their own
talents and abilities are a cherished and necessary part of the mix. The goal is that my congregation would not be
a congregation of spectators, but rather of congregation of doers. By stepping back to allow others to express
themselves, I believe I provide the space for others to develop…and that’s
important.
As in the rabbinate, so too in the ‘real
world’! I’ve learned that many of the roles I ‘play’
call for a bit of tsimtsum to allow others to develop their talents and
abilities. Whether it is the role of
husband, father, son, or friend, the principle is the same. Sometimes, it’s important to speak up when
you’re convinced that you’re right. But
sometimes it’s important to give others the space they need to figure things
out for themselves. Probably the ‘role’
in which this is most important is that of parent. When you have growing children on the cusp of
adulthood, it is important to give them space to make their own decisions, even
if they make decisions with which you, the parent, disagree.
So tsimtsum is an important
principle, not just for those of us who toil in the rabbinate, but for
everybody. In the course of our lives,
each one of us comes upon situations where a little tzimtsum, applied at
the proper time, will help someone else – more than giving them advice or doing
it for them would help.
Perhaps one can find that message in
the festival of Sukkot, which we’re celebrating this week and next. One of the principle themes of the holiday, is
G-d’s protective care over us. And yet…observance
of the holiday requires that we break out our inner builder and erect a sukkah,
a temporary shelter that alludes to the moveable tents of the Israelites in
the wilderness of Sinai, as well as to a farmer’s harvest shelter. Either symbolic allusion, indicates that G-d’s
protecting care requires that we take some initiative and effort. Likewise, for us to learn and grow, requires initiative
and effort. And if we’re cast in the
role of teacher or leader, we sometimes have to practice a little tsimtsum –
to let someone else take the initiative and make the decisions – that they
would be able to learn and grow. It’s an
important lesson – and for some of us, a difficult one – to learn.
Just as G-d practices tsimtsum to
keep us from overwhelmed by His Presence, we should learn to practice tsimtsum
so that we can prevent ourselves from stunting the growth of others. And what about my ukulele group? I remained in my seat, for a change enjoying not
being the featured ‘performer,’ and the group did just fine on the number. Let’s make sure that we learn to keep our own
presences within limits that, for those with whom we work, are manageable. Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sameach!
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