Get new shiurim by email Powered by Consult With Ari (opens in a new tab)

Shiur · Rav Mordechai Burg

The Vulnerability of Teshuva

Sep 25, 201950 minTranscript
Listen nowPicks up where you left off · speed up to 2×
Download
A single golden autumn leaf lit by soft sunlight

Chapters

This article was generously sponsored liilui nishmas Kayla Bas Rav Mordechai Tzvi. For only 18 dollars you can sponsor a shiur, a Q&A, a Dvar Torah or an event. Your small contributions go a long way towards helping us continue to do the great work we are doing at Nitzotzos. To sponsor please email us at Nitzotzos@gmail.com

Transcript

Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.

A very beautiful, very mystical time as Shabbos is entering, and we're singing Lecha Dodi. Is there anything more beautiful than Lecha Dodi every Friday night? It's the most stunning tefila. And at the climax of Lecha Dodi, at the very end, we turn around We look back towards the entrance of the shul, towards the doors, and we bow. We say Bowi Talo. We turn around and we say Bowi Talo. And Ratzon Hakohen says, Why are we turning around? And he says something unbelievable. He says, "Because you can't leave the weak in the past" You have to bring it with you into Shabbos. So we're constantly looking back, and we're trying to bring it forward with us. Why can't we just leave the past behind? And even not just on Shabbos, which is of course the same letters as Tashlev as Tshuva, but as a people. Sometimes it's good to get out of the microscopic way of looking at things and look at things from a telescopic perspective.

As a people, is there a nation in the world that spends more time talking about its history than Jews? Isn't it true that from the moment we were beginning to be educated, the first thing we do is we're looking back in history. Everything is always back. And even now we're in the three weeks mourning something that happened. Thousands of years ago, we're a nation that's constantly looking backwards. And that's very unique. And so, what is the message there? What are we returning to? Tshuva, let's return. What are we returning to? Who are we returning to? It's a very ambiguous term. And the last point that I want to make, and then we'll be finished with some of the questions. And this is a little bit more psychologically subtle. Is there a certain uncomfortability that we all have with tshuva And I think everybody in this room is very familiar with this uncomfortability.

Read the full transcript

It's called vulnerability. Is there anything more vulnerable than having to look at someone you love Look them right in the eye and say I am so sorry. It's the most uncomfortable feeling. To say that I did something wrong To have the courage The self-esteem to be able to say it'll be okay, I'll be okay, despite the fact that I'm about to admit that something I did was terribly wrong, and it was again, I'm sure there were a million contributing factors. But isn't it true, just for ourselves, that it's so uncomfortable to go to a friend, to go to a parent, to go to a sibling And say I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't embarrass them. Which of course means I'm going to embarrass them because that's what fathers do. I have three of my five daughters in the audience here tonight. I have Chana, Racheli, and Shira. Chana, Racheli, and Shira are amazing kids, but isn't it true that sometimes you girls fight with each other?

Never, Chana. You never fight with your sisters. Chana's an amazing girl. She's an amazing girl. Why am I doing this, Abba? Because Abba's embarrassed their children. That's what makes a good father. Shira, sometimes do you fight with your sisters? Never. If you do, what do you have to do? What does Abba tell you have to do? You have to say I'm sorry. And it's watching kids. By the way, this is an amazing exercise. Watch children when they're forced to say I'm sorry to their siblings. Do you remember when your parents made you do that? They don't even look at each other. It's the most uncomfortable thing in the world. There's something very frightening about that. How many people came here this summer? I'm sure you girls are having the most amazing summer, the most growth-oriented summer of your life. Everyone walks away from Mitzlela saying that was incredible. My wife went to Mitzlela many years ago. She said it was a touchstone summer for her. Something she always looks back at.

How many people this summer? How many girls this summer? As you've begun to really think about your lives, how many have probably thought about the relationship they have with their siblings, with their friends, and with their parents? Can you feel how uncomfortable it would be to get on the phone After this speech, go call up your parents and go. I was thinking about some of the things that I've done this past year, and I really owe you an apology. How uncomfortable is it to even think about? Did a thing in yeshiva this year around Thanksgiving time, talking about calling our parents and saying thank you And I got a phone call from a parent crying. The mother was crying hysterically because her son called and said thank you, and she couldn't remember the last time that happened without any trigger. I didn't want to tell her if we told him to do it. But there's something very uncomfortable about being so vulnerable, about being so open.

And teshuvah is this incredibly vulnerable process that requires such courage for us to look at Hashem and go, "That's on me." So how do we move forward? So I want to share with you a couple of insights and a couple of things I've learned along the way in the last couple of years. And hopefully they'll mean something to you. The word religion is often misunderstood. Usually, when we think about religion, we think about a set of rules, a set of laws. But that's a little losing the forest for the trees. The truth of the matter is that in Latin, the word for religion is 'religare,' which actually means relationship. And if you think about religion, if you think about Yiddishkeit If you think about Yagel as a relationship, then all of a sudden everything changes. All of a sudden, it's not obligations; it's responsibilities, opportunities to go closer to Hakadosh Baruch Hu.

If you're just playing the game, so to speak, if you're just following the rules, it's true, you're participating in the relationship, but if you don't actually recognize God Then you've missed the boat. So maybe you davened every day, maybe you said the words, and that's amazing. Even that is an unbelievable thing. But if you can't picture God in front of you Has your tefila really made an impact on the relationship? There's something lacking. That's why so many of us are so frustrated when it comes to Yiddishkeit. It's not because we don't believe. We believe in the deepest way possible. I come from a family of incredibly inspirational people. Both of my parents are balichuva. And my grandmother, who should live and be well, became a balichuva at seventy years old. At seven years old, she is the most incredible person. Grandma Sarah is the most inspirational person I have in my life.

She dresses hanuah. She keeps Shabbos. She yells at my cousins when they don't keep Shabbos. I'm like, "Remember, you've been keeping Shabbos for seventy years." She's like, "Yeah, but it's wrong." She's incredibly connected to the Yiddish thing. And what I've seen What I've seen is that when people get close to religion on a certain level, they get frustrated because they're asking a fundamental question, which is, 'Where is God?' I'm doing everything I need to do. But somehow the being part of the relationship is lacking. Girls, you are at a phenomenal advantage over every guy you will ever meet in your entire life. Because men do. That's what men do. They don't even know what the word being means. Human being to them, that's the only thing the word being means. And this is a fight that couples have all the time. A husband will look at his wife and go, "What am I doing wrong?"

And she says to me, and trust me, I've had this in my own life. All women say the same thing. It's not what you're doing wrong. I just don't feel like you're here. Which again, no man has ever understood because I'm literally right here. That's not subject to your feeling. I'll validate your feeling from today until tomorrow. But I'm standing right here. But that's not what women want. Women know there's something more powerful than doing, and that's being. And that's what's missing in our Yiddishkeit today for so many of us, including myself. We can do religion very well. We can daven, speak appropriately, do chesed, give tzedakah and do amazing things. But somehow God is missing, isn't that true? God is missing from our lives. The word religion means relationship, and the goal is to create a deeper relationship with Hashem. And the journey The journey of every relationship is to find each other.

So I want to tell you something that makes very little sense the first time you read it, and after you hear this, it'll make perfect sense. When Adam and Chava were first created, does anyone know how they were created? But what were they created as? Were they two separate people? They were one person. That's what they were. Adam and Chava were originally one person. Then God said, "I'm going to split them" And then we're going to have two people. We're going to have Adam, and we're going to have Chava. As soon as God splits them, what does He tell them to do? Vahayu lebasar echa. I want you guys to become one. And there's something fundamentally off about that because a moment ago we were one. So why did God split Adam and Chava only to tell them to get back together? Now I want you to hold that thought and I want you to see the same exact scenario played out a little bit differently.

In Shamayim, when our neshama was connected to God, when our soul was connected to God, and it was just the soul and God, the soul was extremely happy. And then God said "I want you, the soul, to go down into the world. I want you to go down into the world. And when the soul gets down here, most of us think, 'What's the job for the soul to go back up to Shamayim and to become one with God? What's the problem with that? The problem is we just were one with God. The same exact way that Adam and Eve were originally one, and then God splits them for some reason to get back together. The same parallel exists in the soul. The soul is told to leave and return, leave and come back. What's the value in leaving? And what I want to talk about tonight is that the value of leaving is finding each other.

Because you're born together It's an amazing thing. But when you leave and find each other again That's a gift. Rav Levi Yitzchok Mebrditchev, the Haligah Mebrditchev, all the girls who've heard of Rav Levi Yitzchok. Rav Levi Yitzchok was, aside from being a tremendous Talmud Hakham and a tzaddik Rav Levi Yitzchok was a poet. He was even a songwriter, and he wrote a song. One of the lines in the song is so deep. And the line goes like this: "I'm playing hide and seek with God" And I'm finding Him everywhere. And it's the most beautiful life. Because that's what life is like. I'm separated from God, but my job is to find Him. It's this incredible game of hide and go seek. The biggest bracha that you can give to a chassid and a paolo is that in life you'll play hide and go seek with each other.

But always find each other. Find each other in the good times. Find each other in the not so good times. That's the biggest gift we have. So why does Adam and Chava split? They're split because as long as they were one, they were missing an opportunity. What was the opportunity they were missing? They were missing the opportunity to find each other. Was the soul ecstatic in heaven when it was sitting with God? The answer is, of course The soul was blown away by the radiance and brilliance of the truth of God. But the soul, in a certain way It was lacking an experience, and the experience was: I choose to find. And so, if we're going to be separated from God, then we have to really be separated. Because if God truly wants a relationship with another Then he has to create the concept of other.

And if you really want someone to be other than you, then the greatest gift you can give them is freedom. And so, God doesn't just create people, but what He says is, "I'm going to create people, and I'm going to endow you with the greatest gift that I have, which is the gift of Me." Which is freedom. You are free to do whatever you want. And freedom, while it's the greatest gift, is also an incredible curse. And let me tell you why. Right now, all of you in this room are lacking a particular freedom. Because no matter how hard you tried I doubt that you could come up here with a knife and kill me. It's not really within your bechira to do that. Is it possible? Do you have the capability? But not really Because even if you say, "Yeah, I could totally do it," you never would Because it's against the grain of who you are. Why would I ever kill an innocent person? And so, in a certain way, you're lacking freedom, and that's beautiful.

Because why would you want to be a monster? If I told you that you were capable of killing innocent people, is that something you would be proud of? Freedom, in a certain way, is not always a great thing. Think about and touch on one avera for tonight. Let's talk about the avera of lashon hara. Is there anyone in this room that's proud? I don't think there is anyone. Is there anyone in this room that's proud that they're capable of saying lashon hara about their friends? There is no one that's proud of that. You have the freedom to say whatever you want. If you really want to hurt someone, go tell lashon hara about them. I don't know if anyone here has ever done this. I've done it. It's a terrible thing. Take an email that you get. You think you pressed forward And you say some horrific lashon hara about the email that you just received to a friend of yours. Turns out you pressed the reply. Anyone here ever do that? It's lashon hara about yourselves. I've done it.

How awful do you feel? There's no way of getting that back. When someone finds out that you've spoken about them in that way, it's the most. I can't believe I did that. The fact that I have freedom to say lashon hara about another person is an awful fear. That's not freedom that empowers me. That's freedom that's debilitating. So freedom isn't always a great thing. In fact, one could argue that while it's true that freedom is God's greatest gift It's also what creates the distance between us and God. Say like this: If you actually knew the truth of God, if you lived with the truth of God, would you be free? Would you be really free? Would you be capable of sin? If you really knew the truth, you would be incapable of sin. In fact, that's the way that certain reshonim describe the period after Tzias Amesin. The radiance of God's truth is so bright that there is no more opportunity for sin.

There is no more freedom. And so this freedom that we've been given. While it's an incredible gift and it allows us to have the opportunity to draw close to God, it also gives us the opportunity to take ten steps away from God. And so God gave us the opportunity to find Him, but He also gave us the opportunity to lose Him. And I'm sure you all know people in your life that have lost God, so to speak, that they took that freedom and they chose to walk in the opposite direction. And so, how can we find Hakadosh Baruch Hu if we've stepped away from Him? Especially now, in the period of the three weeks. How can we find God when we feel—and I'm sure many of you don't feel this way—but for those that do feel this way, and I certainly feel this way. If you feel this way, don't feel bad. I think a lot of people do. There's a shared humanity in feeling distant from God.

How can we find God? I want to say a couple of things. The first thing is, and this is a wild thing that we have to say, but it's true, and we have to remember. The first thing is, you are innocent. We are innocent. Whenever I say that, all of a sudden people perk up and they go, "No, I'm not." Trust me, Rabbi. If you would know who I really am, you would know the farthest thing I am from is innocent. But it's not true. You are innocent. Elokei neshama shenasatavita horei. The soul that you gave me is pure. No matter what you do, you cannot defile the soul. You can cover the soul with dirt. You can behave in a way that the soul is not comfortable with. But the soul is still perfect. And part of you is that soul. So the soul is like a diamond that's covered in dirt.

It's still a diamond. But what do we need to do? We need to polish that diamond. I'll tell you a story. This is not a story that makes me particularly proud, but it's a true story. I was in Woodmere, and I was diving in East Conestoga. I'm a Moshe Weinberger sleeper. For those that are from Woodmere I grew up in Lawrence, New York, not far from Moshe Weinberger. And I went, and Moshe Weinberger said to me, "What are you doing? What are you up to these days?" So I said, "I'm a garbage man." He looked at me very strangely and said. You're a garbage man. Not that there would be anything wrong with being a garbage man, but he didn't expect me to say that. I said, "I'm taking out the trash of the last 17 years." The next night I came back. I was dining my ravish again.

And a Weinberger came over to me. He pulled me to the side and he said, "Mordechai" You're not a garbage man. You're a diamond polisher. And that's all the difference. Either way, you're cleaning up. But the question is, is it garbage or is it a diamond? And it was such a profound mussar that the Rebbe had given me Because it's a diamond. You have to believe about yourself that you are a diamond. You are the most precious thing that the Rebbeinu Shalom has. You are him. A soul is a piece of him. He's gifted you with a piece of himself. It's perfect. No matter what you do to it, it's perfect. A diamond belongs in a beautiful display case where everyone can come and admire it. And we don't always act that way, but that doesn't mean that we're not a diamond. And I'll prove it to you with a statement from Rabbi Nachman, which is an amazing statement.

Think about the last avir that you did. Tell me, did anyone here go out and make a siyum after doing that avir? Did anyone go to Papagayos and make an all-you-can-eat party for all their friends because of the avir that they did? Anyone? We just had Burgers Bar downstairs. Everyone had Burgers Bar, sponsored by Turo. Everyone had Burgers Bar. Was anyone sitting there at the Burgers Bar and going? I did the most incredible avera tonight. Let's sit down and eat this meal. We'll make shiray manos afterwards because of the incredible avera that I just did. Not one girl did that. Not once in your life have you ever done that. Not once in the history of the world has anybody ever done that. Because we're not proud. Because it's not who we are. Remembering who we are. Returning to who we are. Remembering who we are. That's the isode.

So you didn't have airo. You didn't have airo. You're still here. Rabbah Emunah Safa, the Kol D'Shvar who woke you up today because he said today is a brand new day. You're still here. You still have so much to accomplish. You have not been defiled, T'horei. You're still pure. You are innocent. And you know that voice that you're hearing inside of yourself right now that's telling yourself, "Yeah, but I'm not really innocent, girls." That's not really you. The real you is the one that knows you're innocent. And if you can't live with that voice of innocence And if you're defiled by guilt And you're dragged down by shame And you don't feel worthy of Hakadosh Baruch Hu's love, it is you are incapable of being in a relationship with him. Because the beginning of being in a relationship is believing that you are worthy of being in the relationship.

Do you girls hear that? That's an unbelievable thing to say. I am worthy of being in a relationship with God, despite everything I've done. That's an incredible thing. Girls. Let's say you did a terrible affair. You didn't listen to your parents, and I mean really badly. Do you think your parents stop loving you? Let's say it gets really bad. We all know cases like this. It gets really bad where maybe even a girl leaves her home. Do the parents not love their daughter? Girls, I'm telling you There is nothing you can do. Nothing. And again, there are so many painful situations. I don't need to minimize any of them, but there is nothing you can do to remove your parents' love from you. They love you because you're a piece of them. You'll always be a piece of them, no matter how far you go.

You can always come back home because you're pure. That's number one. Number two. Zero in on the moment that you're doing that aver. Picture the scene. We'll talk about lashon hara just because it's the three weeks. Picture the scene. You're in your dorm room. You're sitting with a friend, and somebody really hurt you. And you want to share. You want to share, even though you know I don't really need to share this. I can hold it on my own. But you really just want to speak nastily about this girl. Can you see yourself doing it? Can you picture yourself in the room? Take a second. Listen to your own voice right before you say that piece of Lushanhar. Do you know that she's right before you say that piece? If you slowed it down and you started to think, even for a moment If you started to think, what would your innermost voice say?

Do you really want to say what you're about to say? I know a part of you wants to say it. Do you really want to say it? Even while you're saying it, do you know that it's wrong? How many people have done an avera, knowing full well that it's wrong at the time that they're doing it? I know that I do that all the time. It's not the shot that I don't know. If I don't know, that's one thing. But sometimes I know, and I do it anyway. But if I could listen to my innermost voice, you would hear conflict. Part of me wants to do this avera because the avera is really meaningful for whatever reason. But there's another part of me that's that innocent voice inside saying, "I'm not here. I'm not participating. This is not really me." Number one, you're innocent. Number two, even while you're doing the avero You're innocent—at least a part of it.

And that part of you that's not participating in the avero—that's the real you. One of my rabbis said an unbelievable thing. It was when I first heard it, I said, 'So simple,' and then I realized how brilliant it was. He asked, 'What's the difference between a rainforest and a desert?' And we were all very perplexed when he said this to us, because the answer was obvious. A rainforest has water, and a desert doesn't. So somebody said, "Rev, what are you talking about? A rainforest has water, and a desert doesn't." And he smiled knowingly because he knew that's what we were going to say. And he said, "Does the desert not have water" Or is the water just concealed? So we started to realize he was saying something a little deeper. And he said, "Let me ask you a question." If you have an alcoholic And he decides, I can't do this anymore. I need to get help. I need to enroll myself in a program. I need to dry out. I really need help.

Which part of him went to Alcoholics Anonymous? Was it the part of him that always knew that this was wrong? Or was it even the part of him that enjoyed being an alcoholic? The answer is when you get help. It's not because your best parts wanted you to get help. It's because even your worst parts are so sick of living this life. And it's an incredible statement. A desert has water too, but you have to dig deeper to find it. There's water. There's life, even in our worst parts. So number one, you're innocent. You can't be defiled. Number two, even while you're doing the Avera, there's a voice inside of you that's telling you, don't do this. And number three, even the part of you that loves the averro, at some point, don't we get sick of being that person? I'll give you an example This is one of my favorite examples.

And most of you girls, as far as I know, are not married, so I don't know how meaningful this will be. Try to hold this in your head for a couple of years until you get married. Because I'm going to tell you what's going to happen. I know. Even the rabbis in Sneyer, their husbands are tzaddikim. I can't compete with the tzaddikim of Nachal Sneyer. But Luyetsuya, one time your husband messes up. Let's say you tell him, "Be home by ten o'clock." Be home by ten o'clock. Why? I don't know. Because I like to go to sleep, and before I go to sleep, I like to spend time with you. And your husband, he's a great guy, and he's out in the beis medrash, and he gets caught up in a conversation, and he looks at his watch, and it's nine fifty-five, and he knows that he has to go. But he stays. He stays the good guy. He stays and doesn't come home till eleven o'clock. And now at eleven o'clock, he walks in the door, and there's his wife sitting there on the couch.

And again, not in an aggressive way. She's a wonderful person, but she looks at him and she says Where were you? She says, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I got caught up in a conversation." But how does that wife feel? In a certain way, she's not really upset. She understands her husband's a good guy. He was in a good place. But how does she feel? In a certain way, she feels minimized. I asked you to be home so that we could spend some time together. We don't really get to see each other that much. Baruch Hashem, we're both busy people. It was really important to me that you came home. And you didn't. So even though you had a great excuse, still. And now I'll tell you how the husband feels when the wife says, "Where were you?" The husband feels judged. This is not enough. I don't understand. I do so much. Huge fight.

But really But really, what's going on is the following. What every wife wants, and by the way, this is what they deserve, and this is what you should get. What every wife wants is for the husband to say as follows: "I really was in the middle of an important conversation" But you did ask me to be home at ten o'clock. And the truth is, as important as that conversation was, it probably could have happened tomorrow. I probably could have done it tomorrow. And even though the conversation was important. You're more important to me. That's really what we want. It's not that the Averro wasn't great. The Averro is great. Don't you feel? Isn't it a little sick to say? Maybe I shouldn't say this, which is always code for I'm about to say this. Isn't it? Don't you feel a little good after you say Loshkhara?

Don't you feel a little bit like I just needed to get that off my chest, even though it's vicious? But don't we feel the Averro is fishman? Let's say a person decides. Whatever the average is, it doesn't matter. We shouldn't talk about averages. But in a certain way, you wouldn't do it if the avera wasn't good. If you didn't really enjoy the avera, wouldn't you? You wouldn't do it. But on some level, we do enjoy the avera. What does God want from us? Does God want that we shouldn't enjoy life? Of course, God understands. He's the one that created this world. He understands how good shmack the avera is. God wants one very simple thing. He wants us to say as follows: "I love that avera." But our relationship is more important to me than that. And how good do you feel when somebody apologizes to you like that? They say, "You know what? I really was upset."

But you're everything to me. That's what a relationship really is. A relationship is, despite everything that's going on, despite all the things that I enjoy, I value you over all of those things. Which is why you can't get engaged with a Cracker Jack box ring. Because if somebody gets down on one knee, I don't care how romantic the setting is. I don't care if it's the beach at eight o'clock at night in Atlantic Beach, and the waves are lapping up against the sand, and the moon is out, and the guy has balloons out, and everything is amazing. If he hands you a Cracker Jack box ring, you don't feel loved. Why? Because what is a gift? A gift is a way of saying this is a really important thing. I love you at least this much. So when somebody goes out and they spend real money on a ring, not because they have to But because they want to get down on one knee and they want to go. I spent so much on this. Again, not ostentatious. I'm not talking about five or ten thousand dollar rings, but a significant amount of money.

Just push it to be able to say I value you so much. Now I want to tell you something. I know a very choshev rebbetzin who's an unbelievable person And she married a guy who's mamish moser nefesh for chinuch and for learning. He's an unbelievable person. And his parents don't have a lot of money. But he wanted to sit and learn in the beginning of his marriage. So his parents said, "Listen, we're happy to give you money" But they had a shita. His parents had a shita. We'll give you money, but then you can't go buy your wife an engagement ring because you're either. Most are nefesh for learning, or you're giving your wife this fancy engagement ring. But you can't have it both ways. Which is an interesting hashkafah. You should know that for 25 years of this couple being married, she had a terrible relationship with her inlaws.

She had a terrible relationship with her inlaws because all of her life she dreamt about that one day her chassan is going to give her that engagement ring and say to her "This is how important you are to me. At least this important." And she was robbed of that moment. And her mother-in-law is a therapist. And after twenty-five years—and by the way, I heard the story from the mother-in-law. After twenty-five years of not having a good relationship, her mother-in-law sat her down and she said,"We're hammering this out right now. Right now We're not leaving this room until we figure out what's really going on. And they traced it back to all the hurt and all the pain of twenty-five years. And what did they get to? You robbed me of my engagement. So you know what this mother-in-law did? She said, "That's it. Right now, you're right."

We had a hashkafa, but we didn't take your feelings into account. And our hashkafa, as important to us as it is, my relationship with you is more important. They got in the car. It's a wild story. They got in the car. They went to a diamond dealer, and the mother-in-law bought her daughter-in-law an engagement ring. 25 years later. It's a funny story in a certain way, but isn't it beautiful also? Isn't there something so incredible about somebody who's willing to say? After all these years, after all the pain and all the hurt, and by the way, I'm sure the daughter-in-law was not innocent. I'm sure she had made mistakes over 25 years. But you know what the mother-in-law? She just wanted to say, "I just want a relationship with you. This is how much I value you. That's an incredible gift." Number one, we are innocent.

We are innocent. We cannot defile who we are because who we are is godly and it's pure. Number two, even while we were doing the averro, wasn't there that innocent voice inside of us that was telling us, 'This is not who you are.' I refuse to participate. Maybe another part of you is participating, but not me. And lastly, even that part of us—that's our worst part—that loves the averro. At some point, are we capable of saying, "This is not who I am. I'm bigger than this." Our relationship is more important to me than this silly averro. And you know what the Rambam says? The Rambam says tshuva works, but only under the following condition. The Rambam says we have to go back. We have to get to that same exact point in time again. Of course, it won't be that moment because that moment is already past. But the Rambam guarantees you: history repeats itself.

You're going to find yourself in that same exact situation if you really regret it. I'm not talking about guilt, and I'm not talking about shame. Those things are debilitating. It's like eating poison and saying, "I'm full." You're full, but you're also sick now. Shame will destroy a person. There is no chiyuv of shame in tshuva. But there is a chiyuv of regret. Because if we hurt somebody that we really love, how do we feel? We feel terrible about it. I can't believe I did that to you. You're so important to me. So here's the litmus test: Are you going to do it again? If you do it again, it's okay. That's human. God understands. I made you this way. But then you can't say you really regret it. Real regret means I will never do that to you again. That's how much I care about you.

And the Rambam tells us history repeats itself. It's going to happen again tonight. You're going to get back to the dorms. And you're going to have an opportunity to open your mouth and maybe say something inappropriate. If you really regret it Close your mouth. Slow it down, boys. Ask yourself: Is this who I want to be? Is it worth it? Is it worth it to access that part of myself, even that part of myself that enjoys this avir? Is it happy with my relationship with Hashem? And so, there's this unbelievable thing in life, girls That the past and the present are always merging. What was? It's not over. It will keep coming at you until you get to the inner essence of that moment, and until you live with that moment correctly. It will keep coming at you. Who do you want to be? And this is what Chazal mean when they say, 'Those who don't rebuild the Beis Hamikdash, it's like they destroyed it.'

I didn't destroy the Beis Hamikdash. That was thousands of years ago. What are Chazal telling us? You have another moment right now, right here, this summer in Beit Shemesh. You have a moment, every moment An opportunity to rebuild the Beit Hamidrash. If we would really regret Sinas Dinah, could we do it? Really regret, not just a little bit. If we would really regret it, would we be capable of doing it again? The answer is, of course not. But since we don't really regret it, because we're not really there yet On some level, the past has merged with the present, and we missed the opportunity. I want to tell you something. I was so upset about this last night. I'll share with you. I have the event somewhere. I work in NCSY Kolom. Last night, we had a question and answer. And so many of the questions were about divisiveness in Klal Yisroel.

What's better? Is it better to be like this type of Jew or like that type of Jew? And at some point, I felt bad. I shouldn't have said it this way. But at some point, I was like enough already. Who's to say who's better? You serve Hashem like this. I serve Hashem like that. Isn't it all beautiful? But there's this incredible sinat dinum that people are talking about, like out in the open, as if it doesn't matter. And they use labels, these horrific labels, instead of Jew, which is the only true label because it defines your inner essence. You're Ashkenazi, you're Sfarri, you're Charedi, you're Dati Lumi, you're Zioni, Chavalo Asman. What are we talking about? It's like Rabbi Emanuel Feldman once wrote an article. The article was: Messiah wants to come, but he doesn't know what yarmulke to wear. If he wears a kippa shugass, then only this community will accept him. If he wears a kippa shorad, then only this community will accept him. And even if he wears a hat, what type of hat? An up hat, a down hat? What type of fur hat? This much, that much? Chaval hazan. What are we talking about here?

The past and the present are merging right now, and we're missing it. That's the craziest thing. It's happening this moment, right here, right now. Just passing us by. We don't even know what's happening. Tshuva is a return, but a return to what? That was one of the original questions we asked. Tshuva is a return to innocence. It's a return to the real you, which, as we said, is innocent. I. What about all the averas that you did? That's part of the journey, and that's part of who you are. The passage says, "Sheva Yipol Hadzadik V'Kam." The tzaddik will fall down seven times, and he will get up again. Says Rav Huttner The tzaddik falls down and gets up. It's not that he's not a tzaddik because he got up. People get up. It's not he's not a tzaddik because he gets up. What makes him a tzaddik?

He got up with the avir. He got up from this averro. This averro was part of my transformation. We've all done averros, but girls, we have to be innocent. Just to bring it back to a relationship. Let's say you do have the courage to really be vulnerable, to look your friend in the eye and go, "I am so sorry." And let's say she accepts your apology and the opportunity comes again. And this time you don't say that, Lushkar. And now you're sitting with that roommate, and it's at night. How good do you feel? How innocent do you feel? You feel restored. The relationship is beautiful because of what you went through. So it's not that God loves you despite your affairs. God loves you because of your affairs. Your averos were an incredible opportunity to choose to be closer to Him. I can't choose to be closer to God unless I've done tshuva to that avera, unless I've returned myself to the relationship.

That's an unbelievable thing, girls. You are not lost. You did the avera beseder. It's part of the journey. Can you find each other, like we said, like our lady Yitzchok said? Can we find each other in that hide and seek? We are innocent. Can we restore innocence? Can we live with that feeling? That's why the Rambam says, when you do tshuva, girls, there was a minute we don't do it now, but there used to be a minute that when you did tshuva, you changed your name. Is that an incredible thing to change your name? Why would I change my name? The Rambam is telling us this is the real you. This is the real you. That's an unbelievable thing to be able to say. That person that I was, it wasn't real. This is me. You come back after a summer in Mechlalit, and maybe you've changed certain parts of yourself.

Maybe you've accessed a deeper person, a more authentic person. You come back, and people go, "Whoa, she had a summer on Mechlalit." I see she's not the same anymore. And some people, maybe there'll be some haters out there, but most people will be proud. Most people will say, 'Wow.' Imagine how incredible it would be if you came back again. It's not for our generation, but imagine how incredible it would be if you came back and instead of saying this is my name, you said actually I go by a totally different name. You do really? Why do you go by a different name? I go by a different name because this is the real me. For Shlomo Fryfeld, when he grew up, he wasn't Shlomo. He was Seymour. He was Seymour. He grew up as Seymour Fryfeld. And he came. He met a group of kids that were not yet observant.

And they all introduced themselves by their English names, and he said, 'Tell me your Hebrew names.' He told them what each one of their names meant. And then he said, "I grew up as Seymour, but now I'm proud to say that I'm Shlomo." We all have names. We all have missions, essences that reflect themselves in our names. But who are we really? Is that our real name? Or are we capable of changing our name? I want to finish with one last story. I know it's late. Two years ago, in Mivaseret There was a missionary Christian guy Who was harassing my talmidim on the bus? I'm a rebbe in Mivaseret And this guy was taking the bus back and forth to Mivaseret with the boys, and he was talking to them, trying to convert them to Christianity. And so the boys kept coming to me with questions. Rebbe, how would you answer this, and how would you answer that? At some point, I said, "Like guys, why are you asking all these questions about Christianity?"

And it turns out that they were being missionized by this man. So I said, "Guys" Just invite him to yeshiva. Let me just talk to him. And so they invited this missionary to come speak to me in yeshiva. And the morning arrived when he came And I was in the corner of the bais medrash. He came and sat down with me, and the chevrav guy sat down and started proselytizing to me and talking to me about Christianity. And we went back and forth a little bit. I asked him how it was possible that he could believe in a religion that would condemn a Jew to death because he doesn't believe in Jesus, but if a Nazi kills thousands of people, but he accepts Jesus, then he goes to heaven. We went back and forth with these types of questions, and then he asked me a question. He said, 'Do you believe that God gave a covenant to Israel?' I said, 'Absolutely. It's written in the Torah.' He asked, did God say that if you violate that covenant, there will be consequences? I said, of course, it's written in the Torah. He asked, did you violate that covenant?

I said absolutely, it's written in the Torah. And he goes and if you violated that covenant, doesn't it stand to reason that the covenant is broken? And isn't it true that because you broke the covenant, God is no longer in love with you? And He chose the Christians, and now you were the chosen nation, and now we're the chosen nation. Isn't that logical? And I said, "Sure" That's logical Except for one thing. You can break a contract. You can't break a covenant. A covenant can't be broken. In other words, it's true. I might not behave as the covenant says I should behave, but when somebody makes a covenant with somebody else, what they're saying is no matter what You and I are together. So did Klal Yisroel violate the covenant that we had with God? Of course, all the time. And it's tragic that we've done so, but we did.

But it's a covenant. And a covenant means no matter what, we're together. It doesn't mean we're together. I have a rebbe. His name is Reb Yaakov Benderstein. He's a rashi of Darke Torah in Farakway. And he wrote an article, and it was a pretty controversial article. Even though I thought it was a דבר פושע. The article was If your kid goes off to Dar es and he's having an influence on your other children Should you throw that kid out of the house? And Rabbi Bender went He went off in this article, and he said to throw your child out of the house. You're a parent. There's no such thing as throwing a child out of the house. And he said, and for those that think it's a good chinuch move, what are you telling your other children if you don't behave? I throw you out of the house. That's a crazy thing.

And it was so pashat to those that are talmidim of Rabbi Bender. That was so pashat to us because the relationship that we had with Rabbi Bender is that no matter what we did We couldn't destroy the relationship because we felt that sense of I have a covenant with you And no matter what we did in school, even when we misbehaved, it's true we got punished. But the relationship was always there, and it was the greatest feeling of safety in the world. And so I turned to this missionary and I said to him It's true, we really violated that covenant, and I have to tell you I feel deep regret, and I'm really trying my best to rebuild that. But the fact that you think God could choose someone else means that you don't understand relationships at all. There are relationships that can be broken, but our relationship with God, no matter what we do, cannot be broken.

So the theme of this week, girls, was back Backwards. So let's look backwards. Let's look backwards. Let's look at our history because that's what Jews do. This Friday night, coming tomorrow. When you bow down by bowi kala tomorrow night, think to yourself of all that you did this week, all that you have, and know one thing: the relationship is still intact. The relationship is very flexible. And it's beautiful because it can't be broken. God loves us for no reason. Because I love my child for no reason. And when you love someone for no reason, no reason can break up the relationship. So I have a daughter, Miriam. She's a cute little kid. She's just turned two. And Miriam was born. She's my first Israeli daughter. She was born here in Israel. And she was born on a Shabbos morning. Went into the hospital Shabbos morning.

My wife has a baby. I have four daughters, so I was expecting a son, but Hashem had other plans. And the nurse says to me, "She says Mazel Tov." I said, "Thank you. What is it?" She said Alat You had a daughter. I said, Wow, it's amazing! I have a daughter. Five daughters. All my talmidim are going to make fun of me. But it's worth it. I have five daughters. She's healthy, I asked. She's healthy. Can I come into the room? They said, not yet. A couple minutes later, they let me into the room, and there I am sitting there with this tiny little Beautiful little baby. And I am sitting there, and I remember the words that I said to her. I am sitting there crying over her, and I said to her, "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've been waiting to meet you. And I felt like I had known her, even though I had just met her."

And I couldn't even wait. I went to shul that morning. They had a shul in Hadassah Hospital, and I had to name the baby. I came back. I told my wife I named the baby. I even called the girls later that night. I told them we have a sister. Her name is Miriam. I couldn't wait. And when I said, "It's so nice to meet you," you know what I felt? I love this kid so much. And what if a scientist would ask me, "Why do you love your daughter?" I have no idea. How could I tell you why I love my daughter? My love for my daughter is so much bigger than why. How isn't that true? If somebody says to you, "Oh, you know why you love your mother? Because when your mother first gave birth, she was secreting a lot of hormones, and it was really important that she held you at that time, so that there's a transfer of hormones, and that's what's called love." Does anyone feel loved because they heard that?

What about a wife? The husband says, "I love you so much because you're an incredible cook." Isn't that like? And obviously, my wife is an incredible cook. But I'm saying, isn't that like? And my daughters are following in her ways. But obviously, that's so sick. Because what if Chassid Shalom wasn't able to cook? Wouldn't I still love her? Of course. If somebody can tell you why they love somebody, that's the worst thing in the world. You know what God loves you for? No reason. God has a covenant with us because He's telling us, "I love you for no reason." So look back all you want, girls. Because you are safe. The relationship can't die. Because that's what it means to have a kid. You are always my kid, no matter how far you go. And so that's what it means when we say Hashem is Avinu.

He's our father. He's not going anywhere, and neither are we. So Meretz Hashem Tishbev is coming. It's going to be a Yontif this year. Afal Pischei Es Mame, Mashiach is coming. It's going to be here. By the time Tishbev rolls around, it's going to be a party this year. Why? Because we're not afraid to look back. We're not afraid to say, "that was some terrible sinastinim" And my relationship with Hashem is way too important to hate my sister. Hashem, we should be zayich in a very quick way. We can't even hang on for even a couple more mornings. We're like just you know, it's like Pesach. A couple more moments, and we'll be gone. That's the way I feel. We don't have any strength left, girls. Moshiach is coming. He's right here. We have to make those changes. Hashem, we're here. Amen. It's all going to be good.

Is this shiur filed in the wrong place? Let us know.

Keep the spark alive

New shiurim, in your inbox

Rav Burg's new shiurim and divrei Torah, straight to your inbox.