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

Shiur · Rav Mordechai Burg

Vayera - When The Change Seems Impossible

Nov 7, 202542 minTranscript
Listen nowPicks up where you left off · speed up to 2×
Download
A single golden autumn leaf lit by soft sunlight

Chapters

In this shiur, delivered in Tomer Devorah, Rav Burg explains the story of Avraham, Sarah and the Malachim as a lesson in how we can make changes that seem impossible.

Transcript

Automatic transcript; may contain mistakes, especially in Hebrew.

In the beginning of this week's parsha, everyone knows the story But I want to try to learn the story a little bit deeper than how we did when we were growing up, and maybe to say some things that are relevant and important to our lives. I'm not going to read the pesukim inside. Maybe I'll only read one word inside. But I'm just going to say it outside. Avram Avinu is sitting be'eloneh Mamre. He's sitting in the plains of Mamre. And where is he sitting? He's sitting at the entrance of his tent. In the heat of the day, we know the backstory. What happened? Avraham Avinu three days earlier had his bris mila. He was an old man. He was in a tremendous amount of pain, and Hakadosh Baruch Hu was sitting with him, being mivaker cholim. And three strangers are walking along the way. We know that they did not appear to Avraham Avinu as malachim, but in fact they were actually malachim. And Avraham Avinu sees them, and he runs towards them.

Why? Because. I have to do achnas zarchim. That's the way to lead an avraham v'ino life. An avraham v'ino life must include achnas zarchim. So what does he do? He runs to them and he says, "Please don't leave. Get a little water. Wash your feet. Sit down under the tree. Take a little bit of bread." These are the only words I'm going to read inside. V'sa'adu libchem And you're going to nourish your heart. V'sa'adu libchem, you're going to nourish your heart. And then afterwards you'll go on your way, and that's exactly what happened. And then Avram Avinu runs to the tent And he says, "Prepare all the food." I'm not going to get into the details of all the food that he says to prepare. And they said to him, these Malachim, when Sarai Ymainu is in the tent and preparing all the food, and then they ate the food, they said to him, "Where's Sarah?"

Read the full transcript

We know these words, right? This is like you learned this, like it was a tsnei shmos when you were growing up. Don't worry, it's not that your PTSD can calm down, and that's not where I'm going. He said, "Where's Sarah?" He says, "She's in the tent." She's in the tent. And he said, 'The malachim said to Avram Avinu, we're gonna come back next year, and by next year, Sarah, your wife, is going to have a child.' Now, Sarah was also sitting at the entrance of the tent. That's what it says. And she heard this. What did she do? We know what she did. She laughed. She laughed. She laughed. And then the malachim said to her, "Why are you laughing?" Why are you laughing? She said, I didn't laugh Right? I didn't laugh. And what happened? Hakadosh Baruch Hu says, "Yeah, you laughed." And that's the end of the story.

It's a very interesting story. We all grew up hearing the story. I want to try today. To analyze small components of the story, if you look at it from a completely different angle, you're going to see something that I think is unbelievable. Sometimes the details of the story tell us what's actually happening behind the scenes. I'd like to suggest to you tonight a brand new pshat. I'd like to suggest to you tonight This story is the story of how a person creates impossible transformation. Is a question that every one of us has. I want to transform something, but it's impossible. You came here this year. You're in seminary, and naturally, we all have a ceiling. Every one of us is asking ourselves the question. We're saying, 'I could only go this far because to go any further than that would be impossible.' The question is, how can we create transformation when we feel, especially in times when we feel this transformation is impossible. I can go this far and no further.

This is a silly example But I had a friend who I went to Haftar with many years ago. He came to Eretz Yisrael. He got really into learning, and he chose in his life that he wanted to live a more yeshivish lifestyle. He started learning very seriously and joined the yeshivish community. He was doing amazing things with his life. He got married. He married my wife's one of her best friends. He eventually moved out of the five towns and moved to Lakewood. And we went to Lakewood for Shabbos to be with them. And we were at a Shabbos morning kiddush in Lakewood, in shul. We were sitting there. I'll never forget this. We're sitting there, and in front of us we have kichel and herring. Now you have to understand. It's okay. You don't have to have that visceral reaction. Who's like we were? We were sitting there, and in front of us was kichel and herring. I have to explain to you. This young man was exceptionally wealthy. His family was so wealthy that his sister built a mansion on his front yard, and there was still plenty of space. He was a very wealthy guy, and in his life, he had never had herring before.

And we're sitting, and at that time, I had also never eaten herring. And he puts a little bit of herring onto a cracker, and he looks at me. "This it. This the last stage of my transformation. Once this herring goes in my mouth, I will be fully yeshivish." This the end of haftar. And I'm looking at him, going, "Don't do it. It looks really slimy." And even though we were joking And by the way, he did eat the herring. Even though we were joking. It was a funny thing because there's a certain level you get to, and you go this far, but no further. There's a ceiling we all have. And I'm not saying what he did in his life was right. What he did in his life was right for him. He made choices, but even the choices he was making as a ceiling. What happens if I know that something is right? There's something I know that I want to be, but I always grow up. Like you did this last year when certain girls came back. You remember when you were sitting in judgment of those girls that came back Pesach time. And now you're sitting here this year going, 'Shoot, I promised myself I would never become that girl,' even though now I think maybe there is value that I didn't think about before. What now? How do I break through the ceiling and create impossible transformation?

I think this story is really the story about transformation. Listen to some of the details of the story. I think they're amazing. Where's Avram sitting? What did it say? He's not sitting in his tent. Where is he sitting? He's not sitting outside his tent either. Where is he? He's at the entrance of his tent. Another way of saying that is he's at the threshold, somewhere between inside and outside. And it's a really interesting thing. This small detail in the story begins to open up an entire worldview for us, because inside the tent is life as he always knew it. Sar imenu, an elderly woman incapable of having children. They tried to have children for many years, but it didn't work. Hagar's in the home. They brought Hagar in because she said, "I'm never going to be able to have children." So behind him is a past.

That seems unchangeable, and in front of him, what's coming? A future that seems impossible. One more time, I'm not going to do the repeat thing. You can listen to the recording afterwards. Behind him is everything that was that seems like that's my life And in front of him, there's about to be three malachim that come and tell him about a future that seems impossible. Behind is the life that was, that seems like that's what I have. And I'm never going to change. Outside of himself, there's a whole new reality that he has yet to embrace. This is the psychological state that most of us find ourselves in. I'm at the threshold of change But I somehow can't bring myself to actually move forward. I'm stuck at the threshold. I can't leave what I had behind. And it's an interesting thing to think about because Avraham Avinu he did leave everything behind. Isn't that the way we're introduced to Avraham Avinu? It seems then that sometimes you can leave everything behind and yet still be on some level stuck at the threshold of your tent, unwilling to take that last step. You end up at ninety-nine percent, which is amazing, but that one percent means everything because if Avram Avinu doesn't leave his tent, if he doesn't run out to those malachim who are going to tell him that he's going to have Yitzchak.

We don't know what happens Maybe the only reason that Avram Avinu has Yitzchak is because he runs out of his tent to go tell those people, "I want you in my life." It's a lot of courage to leave the threshold of your tent. And Rashi says. Why is he sitting at the edge of his tent? Why is he sitting at the threshold? Because he's in an unbelievable amount of pain. What's the pain? The pain is the pain of bris mila. What does that mean for us? Remember, every single story in the entire Torah is a story for us. What does that mean? The pain of bris mila. There's a big secret to change. All change requires leaving something behind. All change requires a level of sacrifice that I'm willing to cut something off in order to move forward. You know what the word decide means?

Decide means to kill, like suicide, homicide, genocide. If you have five options in front of you and you decide to use one of them, you know what you did to the other four? You killed them. That's what it means to decide something. Avram Avinu is in a psychological state where he's sitting at the edge of his tent and he's cut something away from himself. When you leave something behind, it comes with a massive amount of pain. That's why this is what it sounds like in real time. In real time, it sounds something like this. I don't want to. I don't want to take a specific example. I'm not saying anything here. I'm just saying. Don't take this personally. I'm just saying a thing. Just words. Don't take it personally. You went to a rebbe. And you spoke to the rebbe about something that you felt you needed to do this year in order to maximize your year. Maybe there was a guy that you decided you said I have to leave him behind for this year. I can't be involved in talking to him at this time. I want my growth to be authentic. I don't want to be in a relationship right now. I want to be unattached, unencumbered, in order to be able to make the most of my year.

And you get a pump up schmooze. You're gonna see if you do it, it's gonna be the best thing for you. And so you decided to do it. Unfortunately, they don't tell us the next part of the story. What is the next part of the story? It's all the regret that you have after you did it. There's about 20% of you in the room right now that betrayed yourselves as I was telling this story. It's uncomfortable, no? It's hard to do things that we know are right, but le meisah, it is a feeling, a little bit of amputation. It was necessary. It was important. It was even a holy thing to do. But that doesn't mean it's easy. And being at the precipice of your tent, standing on the threshold of your tent, when you're in a tremendous amount of pain, is not an easy thing to do. That's the internal condition that's necessary for expansion. People don't realize that when you cut something off, it's deeply painful. But in those moments of pain, that's exactly when Hashem comes to visit.

And you have to know that because people think in life, I'm going to do it. It's going to be great. I'm going to have no regrets. You ever have a vulnerability hangover? What does a vulnerability hangover mean? A vulnerability hangover is when you share something with a friend and then immediately afterwards you go "Oh, that was a terrible mistake." Imagine you went out on a date. We're having a Torah and Devorah moment over here, a small one. It's like a mini earthquake. Imagine you went out on a date. And you shared something about yourself, and it was really painful to say that out loud to somebody that you might actually build a relationship with. It's a really painful thing. But you should know in that moment that you chose to do the really painful thing. That's when Hashem comes to visit you. If you can sit in your pain and say, 'This is really hard.'

I don't regret it. But I'm not going to pretend it's easy either. The Torah doesn't tell us that getting a bris mila is an easy thing to do. The Torah tells us on the third day you're going to be in an extraordinary amount of pain. It's true. The ways of the Torah are pleasant, and in the long term, it is an unbelievable gift. And there's no doubt. If I could go back and whisper in the ear of my 18-year-old self when I was in Mevaseret, if I could go back and go, 'Berg.' The things you think right now are a sacrifice. They're not a sacrifice at all. They're a gift. The decisions you're going to make right now—they seem hard in this moment, but in the long term, this is the best thing that you're ever going to choose. There's no doubt that I would whisper that in my ear. But you know what? It would be in a certain way invalidating to the very real human experience of pain that happens when you make really hard decisions.

And if you sit in that pain and you don't try to run away from it That's when God comes to visit you. The imagery of the Torah is exceptionally powerful. Change occurs. The visit that you're looking for, having Hashem in your life, comes not when you choose to turn away from your pain and pretend that it's not real and say, "No, everything is fine." The real ones, the Avraham Avinu people in this world, they say, "I'm in a tremendous amount of pain." Doesn't mean I regret what I did. But it's really hard. And if you've ever gone through anything real in your life, and you've ever really suffered because you had no idea why Hashem was bringing pain into your life, and you chose to turn towards the pain, then you know that is the moment where transformation begins. As long as you're running away from your pain, you will not be zochah to a visit from Hashem.

It's when you turn towards your pain, when you're sitting in the heat of the day. And you say this is ridiculously painful. I had to cut something off from my life, but I'm paying attention to the pain. I want to share with you a beautiful secret. Grief is unexpressed love. If you've ever buried somebody that you loved If you've ever had to say goodbye to a loved one If you ever had to sit in the hospital with somebody and sing to them at the end of their lives And you know that you can't stop missing them. Not three days later, not a week later, three months later, six months later, a year later, somehow that person randomly pops into your thoughts, and you just find yourself missing them. You can't run away from the pain.

It somehow keeps following you until you finally turn towards it and embrace the beauty of the pain. Because what's the beauty of the pain? The beauty of the pain is that the only person in the world that I want to be able to say, 'I love you too,' and I want to hear 'I love you' from them. Is the only person in the world that I can't say it to, and I can't hear it from them right now. But isn't that amazing? Because I have so much love to give, and I have so much love to receive from this person, and it's killing me that I can't do that. There's nothing wrong with making the hard decision. Nothing wrong at all. You know what's impossibly hard? Turning towards the pain and saying somehow there's Hashem in this pain. And I'm going to choose to look into it. It's impossibly hard.

But that's where you find God. You find God on the threshold when you're sitting there in between what was and what might be. And instead of running away from the pain, you choose to turn towards the pain. That's an unbelievable gift. If you want to transform your life It begins with the process of recognizing this really difficult. It's not going to be easy. I don't need a pump-up shmooz from a rebbe or a teacher or a mechanecher or a rakezet to tell me that in the long term this is going to be awesome. I know in the long term that's going to be awesome. That's why I'm doing it. The question is, will I be able to acknowledge the very real pain that's happening in the short term? The Torah tells us, don't turn away from the pain. And what do you do when you don't turn away from the pain? Here's the big secret: when you don't turn away from the pain.

That's when you start to recognize the pain of others. You run out of your tent to be able to say, 'I see somebody else in pain, and I'm going to give them the gift of empathy.' I was having a conversation with somebody here from Torah Devorah, and I won't say their name because I didn't ask for permission. But I really want to say their name. Somebody who's on the staff here, a teacher. And we were talking about the. If you were there for this conversation on Shabbos, I'm asking you please don't say anything. It would be lashon hara. I think two girls happened to have been present for this conversation. So if you were one of those two girls, please don't say anything. And this teacher was asking me, "Why does Hashem do bad things to good people?" It's a very real question, and there are a lot of answers that are given.

But I'll tell you the answer that I believe in. I believe the answer is we have no idea why God does anything, but the gift of going through tragedy is empathy. If you've gone through anything in your life. You become a different person because you can start to sense real pain in other people. You know what I mean? There's something very profound in that. If you've gone through anything in your life, then when you see somebody suffering, your antenna go up and you go, 'She's going through something. I can tell.' Ten other girls walk by her and they don't see a thing, but you're the one who went through something, so you know something's up. And if you know something's up because you went through it yourself, I promise you, then you're the person who's going to go over to her and say I see that everything is not okay, and I just want to let you know that if you ever wanted to talk, I'm here.

And I promise you, I won't say anything and I won't try to explain anything. I'll just sit and bear witness to your pain. And to the extent that I can help, I will. If you need something that I have to give, it's yours. This is what Avraham Avinu does. Avraham Avinu's entire psychological attitude towards change is as I'm going through my own pain, I'm not living in the bubble of my own Dalad Amos and saying, 'Oh, I can't believe what's going on in my life.' Ad Rava, that's not the way a Jew experiences pain. If I'm going through tragedy, it's a sensitivity that now, when somebody's walking through the desert and they don't have food and they don't have what to drink, and I happen to have food and drink, I'm going to do? I'm not just opening my tent to you. I'm running out to invite you into my tent.

To hear this is an unbelievable thing. Where does change occur? When you stop focusing on yourself. When you realize that the pain in your life is designed to help you bring other people in And that's the greatest gift that you could have in your life. It's cliche, and you've heard it a million times this year, and you're going to hear it a million times more. But it's cliche for a reason. If you want the most beautiful life in the world, there is only one thing you need to do, and if you do this, you will have an amazing life. If you have something, share it. There was a book written many years ago. I doubt that it's still around today. Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten. Have you ever heard of that book? There was a famous book back in the day. Remember that book, Rebbe? Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten, and it was all these very basic lessons that we teach children in kindergarten. One of the very basic lessons that we teach children is to share your toys.

Share your toys, and it's hard for little kids to share. Because I want to play with it. But you get a little bit older, and what do you learn? If I don't share my toys, I'm not going to have anyone to play with. I remember when I was a little kid. I'm going to date myself very big. There was a brand new gaming system that had just come out. It was called Nintendo. Have any of you ever heard of Nintendo? The first Nintendo came out when I was a kid. Up until then, we had Atari, which was like sticks on a TV screen. And then there was this Nintendo thing that you got, and you could buy Nintendo games. And I was so lucky that I got Because it came with Super Mario Brothers and Tetris when you bought Nintendo. There were games you could buy that were amazing. I had a game called Super Tecmobile, which was a football game. Back in the day, Super Tecmobile was very popular. My best friend at the time, his name was Chaim Rosenbach. His daughter actually came here to Tomer Devora. I remember I got Super Tecmobile, and I was a little kid, and I called Chaim and said you have to come over.

I got super technical. Can you? Will you play with me? The most beautiful thing in the world is to share what you have. Transformation happens when you stop thinking about yourself and start thinking about how you can share your gifts with the world. I have something that bothers me. It irks me to no end. When you were in twelfth grade, you started getting this shmooz. This shmuuz is wrong. It needs to be eradicated from our lexicon. Nobody should ever say this, but this is the shmuuz that you get when you go to Israel for the year. This is your year to be selfish. Ach. Maybe it's your year to be inwardly focused. Maybe it's your year to work on yourself. How in the world could Yiddishkeit say that real growth happens with any level of selfishness? That's the worst possible terminology. I'm taking some time for self-development. I'm putting the oxygen mask on myself first. So that I could put the oxygen mask on the person next to me. When they show you that video, you know that video if you fly L, and you see the same what is it?

The six of hearts, right? You see that same video over and over again, and it's different in the Hebrew version and the English version, which is like really that was the part you needed to change. And they always have to put the oxygen mask on yourself first. Why? So that you could put it on the kid next to you. Imagine if they showed that video and said, "If the choice is between you and a kid, put it on yourself." That's disgusting. They always tell you to put the oxygen mask on yourself so that you could help somebody else. When we tell you girls to come to Israel for the year, this is your year to be selfish, because words matter. We're telling you girls. Growth involves selfishness. Real transformation occurs when you stop thinking about yourself. If I'm in pain, my pain is there so that one day I'll be able to help somebody else.

Remember, I told you there was one word One word that I was going to focus on. One phrase. What was that word? Do you remember? He was going to nourish their heart. What does Rashi say? Rashi says it's not written levavchem with two bases; it's written libchem. What does that mean? Rashi says it teaches us based on the Medrash. That a Malach has no yitzharah. I have an obvious question. I'm sure you're asking yourself this question right now. Why do we need to know that detail right now? In the middle of this amazing story, I need to learn this detail that a malach has no yitzhahar. It's seemingly totally out of place. So I want to share with you something unbelievable. There's a contrast. Remember when you were studying Shakespeare? Remember in 11th grade in Shavuot, you had that teacher who taught you. It was oddly specific. My wife always talks about a writing teacher she had in Shavuot in 11th grade. They had a writing seminar. Do they still have that?

So there was this thing. You like learning Shakespeare. What do they always do? They tell you if you're looking at a character in a story, what you also have to look at if you want to understand that character? Look at the other characters in the scene because characters in the scene always do what? They always contrast with each other. What's Avraham Avinu experiencing right now? Unbelievable levels of weakness. What's Malach's experience? They have no Yetzirahara. What does this tell you? So it tells us another super important thing. A malach is perfect But you know what a malach can do, and this is the only thing they can do. They can only deliver a message. A malach can't actually change. Listen carefully, Avram Avinu. Remember, he's standing at the edge of his tent. He's right at the threshold of change. Turns around, that's his life as it always was. Looks forward, that's his life as it might be. He's an unbelievable pain, but he turns towards the pain. And what does he do when he turns towards the pain? He says, "I can help the pain of others," and he runs out of his tent. He runs to greet them, and who does he run to greet?

People that are absolutely perfect People that have never struggled a day in their life. They are the ones that come to deliver the message. You can change, but you know what the limitation of a malach is? A malach can only deliver the message. A malach can never achieve the impossible. It's better to be a human being than to be a malach. There's a and again, what I'm about to say, people disagree, and I think there's room for disagreement. But I have a pet peeve. Don't call your children sadik. Don't do that to them. Because they're not tzaddikim and they know it. It's like a little bit uncomfortable when somebody like yeah. Again, I don't know what they say tzaddikas? Like is that yeah? So in a yeshiva, a rabbi walks by a kid and he goes, "Hey tzaddik, how you doing?" What comes up in the recesses of that kid's heart?

I'm not a tzaddik. I'm not a tzaddik. I go to the place where they sell fruits and vegetables at night. I'm the fruits and vegetables dealer. I'm not a tzaddik. I'm not a tzaddik. We think that true change only happens if I'm perfect. True change happens to people that are not. You have to be imperfect if you want to strive towards being somebody who's complete in their life. There's a beautiful letter from Reb Huttner. A Talmid wrote a letter to Reb Huttner, and he spoke to his Rebbe about all the averas that he had done. And Reb Huttner wrote back, and you could look it up online. Don't trust me. Read this letter. It's reprinted in English. It's a stunning, gorgeous letter. And Reb Huttner wrote back, and he said, "It's such a terrible thing that we do that we made our gedolim like they were perfect from the time that they were born."

It's a terrible thing. That's what Rav Huna said. You know why it's terrible? Because you grow up, and a little boy grows up, and he's five years old, and he likes to play baseball, and he didn't finish all of Shas. And then when he's seven years old, he reads in some book that Rav Chaim Kanievsky knew Shas Bal Pei when he was five years old, and he goes, "I'm not. I guess I missed my opportunity. Now I can't be anybody in my life." And it's even worse than that Because we tend to tell our children that they made mistakes, they're limited. And it's exactly the opposite. Who hasn't made mistakes? It used to be again. I'm saying this in public, and I'm saying it, and you can quote me. I'm not saying this any sense of embarrassment. I'm not saying anything negative about Klal Yisrael, but I'm also saying things that we need to work on.

How come we let the boys do tshuva, not the girls? How come a boy could be a behemo, he could be a chayara? For four years of high school, but all of a sudden he comes to Israel and he shakes like he's having a seizure, and all of a sudden it's like he went to mikvah and he's awesome. But we're raising our children, we're raising our daughters, that if Chassid Shalom they're not perfect What's going to be? Everything on your resume better be perfect because somebody's going to do research and they're going to dig into your past. Eight years ago, one time you hiccupped when you shouldn't have in a school play, and all of a sudden Or you were the girl with the earpods. When we create a system that demands perfection from people, the only thing we should expect is that people are going to lie.

It's not the way that the Torah teaches us to be. Who did Yehoshua marry? I bet she had a reputation in Eirechol. But she was a bala shchuvah. Maybe she was great because she was Rachov. Maybe she could never have become Yeshua's wife if she was a regular girl. Isn't that an unbelievable thing to think about? Avraham Avinu is zochet to impossible levels of transformation because he's not a malach. He's not a malach. The contrast is unbelievable. A malach is perfect. A malach can never change. A human being is imperfect. A human being could really change. That's a beautiful thing. What's next? The next thing. Is that Avram Avinu is asked a question, a very profound question. Where's your wife? What does that mean? What are they asking? Malachim don't know where Avram Avinu's wife was. I imagine the Malachim knew. So what are they doing?

So it goes like this. Sarah symbolizes our inner emotional world. Avram Avinu represents you're conscious, God-seeking. I want to do something meaningful with my life. But Sara Imenu gets left behind sometimes. Isn't that the way life works a little bit? Present but hidden Not yet integrated. It's not easy to be an emotionally aware person. In fact, one of the hardest things in the world is to feel a feeling. I remember the first time I heard that. I remember the first time somebody said to me, it's really hard to feel your feelings. I remember thinking that's ridiculous. What's so hard about feeling your feelings? Try it. Try it. The most vulnerable of all feelings is joy. Because the moment that you feel joy, you know what starts to happen? You're afraid that you're going to lose it. So we forebode joy in our lives. Because if I allow myself to actually feel joy, I might have to feel the devastation of what happens when joy is absent from my life.

I remember when my grandmother passed away. I thought that I had mourned her death. My grandmother was a second mother to me. I was so blessed in my life. Grandma Sarah was the best person I've ever met in my entire life. She was my inspiration in ways I can't possibly explain to you. She was 70 years old when she became religious. She started keeping Shabbos. She started dressing modestly. She started keeping kosher. She became judgmental of all my non-religious cousins. She was like a really inspirational person and the nicest woman I've ever met in my entire life. Even when my brother and I were running through a house and destroying everything. Like the meanest she could get, what she would say, "Now boys, simmer down." She was the sweetest woman in the world. And when she passed away, I wasn't able to go to America to bury her because it was COVID.

So I was stuck in Israel and I watched the Levaya happen on Zoom And I cried. I thought that I had cried. And then Almost two years later We went to actually have the hakama samatzeva because so many people in New Jersey had died during COVID, they couldn't make the gravestones fast enough. It was a crazy business. People were running to be in the gravestone business because Letzaharin knew so many people died. So it's two years later, and now I can be in America to be there for the Hakamah S'matzeva, and I'm the family rabbi. So I get up there, and I'm about to speak, and there's my grandmother's kever with the gravestone, and all my family is there, and I could not speak. I was bawling for about 10 minutes. And my father, who's an amazing man, my father just stood next to me. It wasn't his mother; it was my mother's mother. My father just stood next to me and he was just rubbing my back.

And I could not compose myself. I kept trying. I was so embarrassed in front of all my cousins and everybody there, and I just couldn't get a word out. Ten minutes. Finally, I composed myself and we had that kamis matziva. Afterwards, my mother said to me, "Are you okay?" I said, "It was a cry that I didn't know that I was holding in." It was present for two straight years, but it was hidden. It's not easy to feel your feelings. How many of us? It's okay if you didn't have this experience because most of you are in America and you didn't have the October seventh experience like the people who lived here did. But how many of us on Hoshana Rabbah when we saw those final living hostages released? How many of us had a cry that we were waiting for? That meme that came out finally. It's October eighth.

Do you know how many people were stuck on October seventh? Because all the emotions that we didn't feel Because all the pain that we couldn't, how many of us could not watch? They released that video. The State of Israel released a 42-minute video of the atrocities. These animals were wearing GoPros. They filmed themselves committing these atrocities, and the State of Israel got a hold of that footage and they put it together in a video. And people watched that video. I couldn't watch the video. I tried. I watched ten seconds. I'm like, no, I have to pretend that this never happened. You can't talk about it. It doesn't mean it's not happening inside of you. It's important to process. How many soldiers right now are suffering from PTSD because they can't talk about what they had to do for the last two years? I have a talmud who told me, and this is online recorded. You could hear it.

We did a podcast together, a conversation about what it was like. He told me in that conversation when he went up north after October 7th. And the missiles were falling. The Israeli army told them, "You have to dig a ditch and sleep in the ditch, so that when the missile falls and the shrapnel goes up, you'll be in the ditch and you'll be safe." So he dug a ditch for himself, and he's with his best friend. And they wake up in the morning in the ditch. And he turns over. He rolls over to his friend. Did we just sleep in our own graves that we dug ourselves? And you don't talk about it. Because those emotions are alive inside of you, but they're so hard to go to. The malachim, thank you very much, it's very kind of the malachim come to Avraham Avinu and they say Where's your wife?

You want to move forward? You want to have Yitzchak? You want to have a future? You want to be able to actually change? You have to turn back towards the tent, and you have to know that there's an emotional life that's hidden inside of that tent, and you have to connect to Sar Imenu. Now we know that the Gemara says that the Malachim knew where Sarah Imena was. Why did they ask Sarah? Why did they ask Avram Avinu? Two reasons. Number one, the Gemara says to endear her to Avram Avinu, and number two, because they wanted to give her wine that she should make, that she should have a bracha from this wine that she should be zayecha to have Yitzchak. We understand what this means now. The Gemara is telling us something very deep. You want to change. You have to fall in love with the person that's inside of you. All of those hidden emotions that you have to become endeared to them. You have to connect them. You have to be an integrated whole person. This is not just psychobabble.

And you know what? I don't blame anybody here. If you're 18 years old and you're going, I have no idea what it means to be an integrated person. But hold on to these words because as you get older in life, you're going to realize there's a lot of things living unfelt inside of you. And if you don't fall in love with that person and bring it into your life, it's almost impossible to create change. And the second thing is nechnasiai in yotzasod. You want to have a bracha in your life? Reveal the secret. Not drink wine like with zaarenu. We have this lunatic culture in the world today that has crept its way into the Jewish community of thinking that Purim is Saint Patrick's Day of making Simchas Torah into 20 times Purim. That's not on any level. Eshem Shamayim. There's a real beauty to wine. Discover the rich depth and texture of your inner life.

That's an amazing gift if you want to have transformation. If you go through all of that, the Malachim give you a promise. And what's the promise? You will have a son. The impossible will occur. I know you think that your wife is ridiculously old, and there's no way that she's going to be able to have children. But you should know, if you go through this, the impossible will happen. Here's the thing, though: there's going to be a voice of doubt. Even after that promise is made, there's going to be a voice inside of you that says, "Nah" It's not going to happen. It's never going to happen. That's the Sar Imenu laugh. When Sar Imenu laughs, what does Hashem say? Why'd you laugh? What does Sarah respond? I didn't. What does Hashem say? You did. What's going on there? We'll finish with this. It's okay to have doubt.

Hakadosh Baruch Hu says it's okay for you to acknowledge that you have doubt. Just don't deny it. Don't deny it, because at the end, at the very end of this process, when you can see that the impossible is about to happen. No, it's not. That's okay. Having faith in Hashem doesn't mean that you never have a doubt. It means just the opposite. If you have a doubt in your mind All you have to do is acknowledge it. Hashem knows our inner world. If you're connecting to your inner world and you're seeing, 'Whoa, this could be crazy. I could have the most phenomenal change, but maybe it won't happen.' There's nothing wrong with that, but you have to hold on to it. Right now, it sounds very abstract. I'm going to give you one concrete example of this. Do you know how many couples Married couples, people who have been married for twenty, thirty years They work on themselves like crazy.

They go to therapy. They join all the growth-oriented classes. But at the end of the day, they're being told if you'll do the work. You're going to see your marriage will get better. And they're putting in the work, and they're putting in the work, and they keep going to therapy, and they're hafokh ba, daku ba. They're turning themselves over, over and again, and they're trying to become rectified people. But somewhere in their heart, they're going like this: Yeah, but at the end of the day, we've been married for so long Can we really change this dance? Can we really have the marriage that we want? Isn't it too late for us? That voice of doubt creeps in. As a therapist here in Jerusalem, his name is David Levine. He's a brilliant therapist. It's almost impossible to get into him. I think at this point he has an eight-month waiting list.

Years ago I was talking to David Levine, and he told me about a couple that he was seeing who was in their 70s. Imagine being in your 70s and going to couples therapy. He said to them, "What are you coming to couples therapy for now? You're in your 70s." They said, "We messed up the first 50 years. Let's at least finish strong." That's amazing. That's amazing, and he's sitting there doing work with them, and they're talking about their inner childhood trauma. And they're in their 70s. It was like that was during the Great Depression. There's something unbelievable about having doubt and being able to acknowledge that doubt and being able to hold it. Hashem doesn't give Sariimenu Musar. In fact, not only does He give her Musar. What's the kid's name? The doubt that you had If you hold it and bring it to Hashem and acknowledge that it's there That becomes the name of the gift of your transformation.

So acknowledge that you have an inner world. Embrace that inner world, go all the way to its depths to the point where you feel like I just like it's I got 99% of the way there, but at the end of the day, I'm going to have a kid. I'm very old. I've never had the ability to have a child. If the miracle was going to happen, it should have happened a long time ago. Hold on to that doubt. That becomes the nature of your gift. Rabbi Osl, I have a beautiful shabbos.

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.