Delaying Gratification and the Path to Spiritual Growth

Delaying gratification is known to be one of humanity’s greatest challenges. And yet, every time we succeed in holding ourselves back, we repair something significant in the world.

Our sages explain that even at the beginning of creation, part of Adam’s sin in the Garden of Eden was the inability to restrain himself and avoid eating from the Tree of Knowledge.

In the Torah portion we read this past Shabbat, the Torah addresses this very challenge and commands us to wait three years from the time a tree is planted before eating its fruit: “When you come into the land and plant any tree for food... for three years it shall be forbidden to you; it may not be eaten.”

In the face of our natural impatience and the desire to enjoy the fruit right away, those three years serve as a correction for humanity’s first and most fundamental mistake.

Even someone who is not a farmer and does not grow trees can still connect to this idea and practice restraint. For example, the patience we show toward a small child as we wait for them to grow and mature, waiting calmly in line at the supermarket, sitting in traffic without becoming angry, or choosing not to automatically reach for our phones or other harmful habits. Every time we manage to restrain ourselves even a little more, we repair something in creation and move the world one step closer to its ultimate purpose.

We may not need to wait three years like the tree, but even three seconds can make a difference. 

An Era of Freedom

Staff Sergeant Idan Alexander is home, thank God. His grandmother, Varda Ben Baruch, gave two powerful lessons yesterday before the entire world’s media. Amid the excitement, hugs, and tears, I sat down to transcribe her words so that we would truly notice them. They can help many others who are struggling and waiting for good news in their own lives.

At one press conference she said: “Faith, prayers, Psalms. I did everything necessary to receive strength to continue. The journey was long. We had a very long road, more than a year and seven months. I am here also on behalf of the other hostage families, of course. Today we mark Pesach Sheni. Those who could not celebrate Passover at its proper time celebrate it today. And today Idan has his Pesach Sheni. Idan has the privilege of becoming a free man and leaving slavery for freedom.”

It is remarkable. The Torah tells us that thousands of years ago, on the fourteenth of Iyar, people who were unable to celebrate Passover, the festival of freedom, were given a second opportunity to observe it. And here, on the fourteenth of Iyar in the year 5785, Idan’s grandmother embraces him for the first time after his release from captivity, precisely on Pesach Sheni, and tells the world about the meaning of this date.

In another interview, Varda recited words that were not her own, but those of David HaMelech in the Book of Tehillim. It is a chapter of thanksgiving called “A Psalm of Gratitude,” traditionally said when receiving good news:

“A Psalm of thanksgiving. Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth. Serve the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyful song. Know that the Lord is God; He made us and we are His, His people and the flock of His pasture. Enter His gates with thanksgiving, His courtyards with praise; give thanks to Him and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His kindness endures forever, and His faithfulness continues from generation to generation.”

May we merit to say this psalm many more times very soon.

How Do You Know Something Truly Matters?

How can we tell that something is truly important to us? We make room for it in our schedule. We allocate time for it and place it within our regular routine.

This simple yet profound principle appears in this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Emor, which details the special days, festivals, and appointed times of the Jewish people: Shabbat, Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot, the Counting of the Omer, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. In a sense, the Torah places these sacred days directly into our calendar.

Since the creation of the world, Shabbat has been a day of rest and holiness. Do we remember to preserve it and place a weekly pause in our schedule for renewal and connection? On Yom Kippur we were first granted forgiveness and atonement. Do we remember to reconnect with that sacred frequency each year?

The answer is yes. It is remarkable to read the Torah portion and see that thousands of years later the Jewish people still observe these exact sacred times in our shared calendar and continue to draw strength from them.

Today people speak a great deal about time management, but this Torah portion actually offers us something deeper: value management. The values that truly matter to you become an eternal part of your calendar.

May we merit to place into our daily schedule the things that truly bring order and meaning.

Words of Tzeela Gaz

Tzeela Gaz, may her memory be blessed, a resident of the Shomron, was murdered on her way to the delivery room. She was a beloved emotional therapist who helped hundreds of people overcome anxiety and trauma. These are words she herself wrote on the last Memorial Day for Israel’s fallen soldiers about the complexity of life and death, along with a prayer for a different reality.

“This year, not a single eye remained dry.
It could not fail to touch us. It touched us all. We are all affected by it.

This year I volunteered to read at the ceremony, and it was not clear to me how I would manage it. I sat beneath the speakers. My heart was pounding so strongly that it felt as if everyone could hear it. And the tears, I managed to hold them back until the film began, about how to contain life and death together. How do we continue with, despite, and even because of what has happened? Then the tears began to fall.

This year I accompanied many families in their grief. The heart burns with pain. Yet I am there in my role to contain it, to give space to the pain and the emptiness that has opened, to give space to functioning and to life that continues. To give space to fears and difficult nights, and also to joy, to strength, to the ability to be here and live as well as we possibly can.

In therapy my eyes remain dry even when my heart is crying deeply, because I am there in my role. Both to help hold and to give a great deal of space.

I thank God for the strength and the mission. Even this evening, in the end, I succeeded in doing it from a sense of purpose, to breathe within a hurting heart and still fulfill my role with steadiness.

This year my heart carries a great prayer: God, help everyone who remains here. Give us strength to live healthy and meaningful lives. Help us contain the both and. Strengthen our souls and protect all Your people.”

Amen.