I'm selfish. I'll admit that. I think about myself a good 90% of the day. What do I want to eat right now? What do I want to say to that person right now? How can I get this thing done today? It's a good thing I'm selfish, for if I didn't look after ME, I don't know who else would have the patience to do so. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this selfishness isn't all my fault. It's been a Jewish thing to be selfish for a few thousand years.
This Shabbat marks the day we finally "got over ourselves." When Moshe was preparing us to leave Egypt, it wasn't a dvar pashut (obvious thing) that we should trust in G-d and follow Moshe out into the desert. We were so resistant that the Midrash relates that 80% of us died in the 9th plague of darkness, just days before the Exodus. We just didn't want to leave. We were stuck in the narrowness of "what I see with my own two eyes now is better than what might be tomorrow." When the remaining million-and-a-half of us did finally leave, we quickly reverted to our narrow-mindedness. There we were, stuck between a rock and a hard place: the Egyptians barreling down the mountainside behind us and the yam suf (reed sea) in front of us. Now, it's said that there are no atheists in a foxhole, but that doesn't mean that there were a million-and-a-half fervent worshippers in our "foxhole." Another Midrash says they we were divided into four camps; the worshippers, the dissenters to the invading Egyptian Army, the suicidal sea-jumpers, and those who wanted to stand and fight (Jews were never ones to agree on anything). How could these be the same people that had followed Moshe out of Egypt? Where was their faith now?
Well, yam suf can be read as yam sof (end sea). Not only were we at the end of our faith, we were at the end of ourselves. We had reached the breaking point -- if we didn't believe that OUR ability to save ourselves had ended, we couldn't start believing that it was G-D who had the ability to save us.
After exploring this scene at yam suf in Bible Improv this week, David H. brought in a Gemara which says that finding a wife is as difficult as splitting the yam suf. Come on… really? There's NO WAY I could split a sea, but it's at least POSSIBLE (I hope) that I'd someday be able to find my wife (isn't it?). It seems that really, it's only possible to connect to someone, to make a friend, to find a wife, when I admit that I end. I am finite, and my needs are finite. I need to make space in my heart to care for someone else even more than (or at least as much as) I care about myself. Once I admit that I'm not the be-all and end-all, I can start to figure out who is. At yam suf, we somehow got the hint and were able to trust in another enough to take the plunge. It started with one brave soul, and the rest as they say….is Tu Beshvat.
Well, maybe that's not what they say, but it is Tu Beshvat this Shabbat. This is the holiday of trees, of new fruits. Coming to the realization of our limits is a turning point in the way we relate to the world. I must look out for number one, but I must also know that I'm not the only one looking out for me. I'm dependent upon G-d for my ultimate well-being. That's the story of the tree. All it knows to do is survive - drink, grow, bend, sway. It does all it can for itself, but really it can't do an itty-bitty thing without rain and sunlight and fertile earth. The most we can do is plant ourselves. May this Tu Beshvat be the start of a new year where we bend and sway with the best of 'em, holding fast to the knowledge that we're only as strong as our ability to let go.