How does the Ribono Shel Olam decide our destiny for the upcoming year? How does He judge us? The answer to this question is simple: the same way we judge others.
A Midrash. Hashem told Moshe, “Behold, your days are drawing near to die.”
The Hebrew word “hein,” “behold,” implies finality. Hashem told Moshe, “You have been praying, arguing, and negotiating with me to extend your life. It isn’t going to happen. The conversation is closed. “Hein!” You will not live to enter the land of Israel.
Moshe cringed at the finality of the statement. “Why ‘Hein’? It’s so final!”
Hashem responded, “Because you said ‘hein’ when describing the condition of the Jewish people. Way back at the burning bush, when I originally charged you with the mission of freeing the Jewish people, you said, “Behold! The Jewish people will not listen to me.” You were final about that. I, too, am final.” (Midrash Rabba)
Moshe Rabeinu passed a life sentence on his people. They will not listen, period. His psychological assessment was correct. The people of Israel did not appear to be candidates for redemption. Yet, they did listen. Moshe did not take into account their ability to change and to grow. He looked at what they were and pegged them. That was a mistake. One can never label someone or freeze them into a slot. Yesterday is not today, and what I do today is not necessarily the definition of my entire life.
We certainly do not want Hashem to judge us by what we are. We want Him to look at what we could be. We want Him to tie our destiny to our potential. If we want that kind of decision from Hashem, we need to stop categorizing people, stop pigeonholing them, and perhaps stop judging them altogether. The way we judge is the way Hashem judges us.
Yesterday, I met a young man who, as a child, was diagnosed with an alphabet soup of learning disabilities. His behavior was so unmanageable that after tremendous agony, his parents sent him to a special boarding school in the Midwest. They received rabbinic decisions allowing them to forego the child’s Kashrus and Shabbos observance so that he could attend this program. His parents almost described him as a ‘Ben sorer umoreh.’ But he returned from the program and grew up. Today, he is a teacher, a baal korei, getting a college degree, and the apple of his parents’ eye. Somehow, this child transcended his labels.
We are a society full of labeled boxes, and everyone must fit into one. It’s not even conscious. The moment we meet someone, we start processing; good or bad, rich or poor, frum or not, black hat, kipah serugah or bare-headed; brainy or slow, generous or miserly. Today, there is a box for everyone. Once you put someone in a box, it can be so hard for them to crawl out of it. But it’s much worse than that. The last thing we need is for Hashem to put us in a box. We never want Hashem to look at us and say, “He or she just can’t cut it.”
In honor of the New Year, let us all take a fresh new look at our children, our friends, the person sitting next to us, our husbands, our wives, our teachers, and our students. Look at them carefully, look at them with fresh eyes, and look at their potential. Exactly the way we want Hashem to look at us.
