They did the worst possible thing

The following was originally posted in 2021 for email subscribers:

Do you ever listen to audiobooks?

Something I wish I had discovered earlier in life, is listening to audiobooks while shopping.

I hate shopping (I know... hate is a strong, negative word that should be saved for evil. I VERY unenjoy shopping a very very lot) but I love reading, so it makes me less grumpy to shop with a book in my ear. 

This week, I was listening to an audiobook about gratitude, while doing some boring but necessary shopping, and thinking about how many thinkers from the radical gratitude movement encourage us to try and muster gratitude even for things that cause us pain.

I have a hard time with that because to me, part of being (or trying to be) an authentic, intellectually and emotionally honest person, is acknowledging our subjective experiences.

If something is painful for me, why should I even try to feel gratitude for it?

I get the idea that "it can be a catalyst for growth, make us stronger, higher purpose" in theory.

But I don't believe in glorifying suffering.

I'm still working on this question within myself, because it says in the Hallel prayer, taken from Psalms: "I thank You Lord, because You afflicted me."

And this is just one of many difficult liturgical verses that express the idea of appreciating pain that I rumble with.

In this week's Torah portion, it reviews the story of the sin of the golden calf, whereby Moses/ Moshe breaks the tablets with the ten commandments (well, technically the ten statements, but that's another discussion).

After Moshe works hard to obtain forgiveness from G-d for the Jews' idolatrous act, he is then commanded to "carve yourself two stone tablets like the first one."

Something that strikes me about this story, is that one of the most repeated and emphasized commandments in Torah is not to serve idols- it's compared to adultery against G-d.

The most classic word for idols in Hebrew is "pesel" which means "carved statue."

In fact, it's even the word used for idolatry on the tablets themselves.

But when G-d forgives the Jews for their worshiping an idol, the repair command He gives is:

"psal l'cha" carve new tablets: using the exact same word for carve as the word for idol!

If you think about it, the stone tablets themselves, were sanctified pieces of rock (maybe sapphire) which sounds a lot like exactly what an idol is.

Wouldn't you think G-d would want us to do the opposite, the most different thing possible from carving stone, in order to repair the golden calf mistake?

Or at least use a different word when describing it?

Maybe the reason they're so similar, is instructive.

Self improvement doesn't mean denying and disowning our sins; it means learning from and sublimating them.

The root word pesel means three things: idol, carve, and also: leftovers, or unwanted parts (pesolet), and nullify, and there's a connection between these definitions.

Idolatry comes from a desire to connect, but the wrong way.

(That's what causes rifts in most relationships- kids act out seeking love in unlovable ways; lovers often pick fights, subconsciously to make sure they still matter.)

A pesel, an idol, is a misrepresentation of seeking symbolic love and truth- looking for Divine love in all the wrong places.

So it has to be broken, nullified, and reinvented, but using the same material, the kernel of desire, the same sincere intent to sanctify the physical and connect to something bigger.

Our mistakes, even the worst ones, made from our unwanted parts, our pesolet, they carve us, they're part of who are are.

They etch into the tablets of our hearts a deeper appreciation for ourselves, our relationships, our potential, and how to do better.

Integrating, rather than divorcing our mistakes and less wanted parts is what creates repair and reconnection.

And maybe that's the idea of trying to create gratitude for pain.

Not that we're happy it happened, or want it to happen again.

But it's the "idolatry" or the pesolet of our experiences with life, with G-d, others, and with ourselves.

And once it's part of the history, it's unhealthy to deny or disassociate from it.

We can instead, create and utilize lessons learned from mistakes and from suffering, to rebuild- psychologically and spiritually. 

Maybe that's also why we have a tradition that when a person repents out of love, it turns sins into merits. Because everything, even our misdeeds and mistakes, our shame and our pain, have the potential for redemption and value.

I'm still not at the place where I can be emotionally grateful for affliction yet, but I can acknowledge intellectually that it offers me avenues for spiritual development, and practice cognitive gratitude for that.

Which I guess is just a wordy way of saying, working on my faith.

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