Shabbos Shuvah

By: Rav Judah Mischel

Gilad grew up in a warm, Torah home in Bnei Brak but drifted from observance as he got older. He left behind the familiarity of ritual and mitzvos, left behind his family, and moved in with a non-observant relative. Gilad continued to distance himself from tradition, his life spiraling further from his upbringing, until he became engaged to a non-Jewish woman.

Even the non-observant relative was shaken. While unable to dissuade Gilad from the engagement, he did convince him to go home for one Shabbos to speak openly and honestly with his parents. Gilad agreed on the condition that the visit would be on his terms; for instance, he would smoke on Shabbos, openly, in front of his family. He wanted them to see him for who “he really was.” With broken hearts, his parents agreed to the meeting, since more than anything they wanted their son to know: “You are always ours, and this is always your home; you are always welcome.”

Each Shabbos afternoon, Gilad’s father would go to a shiur given by Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman. On the Shabbos of Gilad’s visit, as his father was heading out the door, he casually and without any expectation invited Gilad to join him. He was shocked when his son agreed, put on a kippah, and headed out the door together with him. After the shiur, they both approached the rosh yeshiva. With pain in his voice, the father confided, “My son is not shomer Shabbos; he is far from the Yiddishkeit of his youth.”

Rav Shteinman turned to Gilad. “How long have you not kept Shabbos?”

“Two years,” Gilad answered flatly.

“And in that time, did you ever have a hirhur teshuvah, a passing thought of return to Yiddishkeit?” 

“Yes,” Gilad said after a pause. “Maybe something like four times.”

“Four times? And how long did each thought of change last?” 

“About ten minutes.”

Reb Aharon Leib’s face lit up, and excitedly exclaimed, “So for forty minutes over the past two years, you had the status of ‘In a place where those who repent stand perfectly righteous people cannot stand!’ (Berachos 34b). You are counted among the ba’alei teshuvah, a place so high that even perfect tzaddikim cannot stand there. For that, I am jealous of you! Gut Shabbos.”

The words struck deep. Gilad left the shiur, but Rav Shteinman’s blessing did not leave him. After much introspection and inner struggle, he broke off his engagement and began to turn his life around.

Later, when asked what moved him to accept his father’s invitation that Shabbos, Gilad shared a memory. Back in fourth grade, his class in cheder had gone for a farher, to take a test with Rav Aharon Leib. At the rebbi’s request, the rosh yeshiva asked very simple questions. When it was Gilad’s turn, he couldn’t answer. Rav Aharon Leib asked an easier question. Again, Gilad didn’t know. A third, even easier—still, no response was forthcoming.

When the farher was through, each boy lined up to receive a candy from the rosh yeshiva. As Gilad approached, Rav Shteinman paused. With his typical warmth, he told the young boy:

“In Yiddishkeit, we reward effort, not results. The other boys exerted effort to answer one question, so I gave them each one candy. You worked hard on three questions—so you deserve three candies.” With a smile, Rav Shteinman handed him three treats.

“The kindness, sensitivity, and encouragement of the rosh yeshiva that day never left me. That’s why I agreed to meet him again. And at my lowest point, he showed me that Hashem cherishes any small step that I can manage at that moment. That’s when I knew I could come back.”

“The main aspect of teshuvah is the thought in the heart. 

Through it, a person is now called a complete tzaddik, 

even if he was previously a complete rasha” 

(Rebbe Tzadok haKohen of Lublin, Takanas haShavin).

We never know when we will experience a transformative thought, interaction, or desire for goodness: “Through hirhurei teshuvah, we hear Hashem calling out to us. From the Torah, from the feelings in one’s heart, and from the entire world and all that it contains. The desire for goodness grows steadily within him, and his very flesh that caused him to sin in the first place, becomes more refined, until the light of teshuvah penetrates” (Rav Kook, Oros haTeshuvah, 22).

Hirhurei teshuvah can arrive in infinite modalities. Hopefully they come in the form of sweet and wonderful moments: when we meet up with a good friend and catch a glimpse of our highest selves, when we look at our children and remember how great we can be, when we hear a certain story or nigun and recognize how deeply we desire to be close to Hashem, when we are inspired by someone and we yearn to make a difference in the world and live on a higher level. The emotional heights of our birthday or anniversary, the spirit of a yom tov, an uplifting shiur, or an inspiring meeting with a tzaddik can trigger a cascade of joy and insight into our life—all can produce a pure hirhur of teshuvah. 

The truth be told, I don’t love (or honestly even relate to) “religious” vs. “ba’al teshuvah” stories which have a predictable “happy ending,” perfectly wrapped with a bow at the end. An authentic life is lived baderech, as a continuous process, a journey through the ups and downs and ebb and flow of avodas Hashem—irrespective of a “bottom line outcome.”

This Shabbos Shuvah presents a renewed opportunity for us to appreciate how meaningful our efforts and intentions are to Hashem. May we be blessed to embrace our holy thoughts and intentions when they arrive and enjoy the sweetness of these great days! n

Rav Judah Mischel is executive director of Camp HASC, the Hebrew Academy for Special Children. He is the founder of Tzama Nafshi and the author of the “Baderech” series. Rav Judah lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife Ora and their family.