We Got This!

This week we learn about the power of the elders to annul various vows, such as the Nazirite who vows to abstain from the pleasure of wine in pursuit of a life of piety and asceticism. (not to be confused with a person who struggles with alcoholism for example and swears off all alcoholic beverages in trying to break an addiction... an altogether different and courageous gesture that requires support and encouragement.)

The Nazirite is a perfect example of what sounds like Biblical doublespeak: The Nazir is spoken of both reverently and condescendingly.

Which is it? Are we on board with the notion of Holiness as removal from the sensuousness of life that surrounds us, or not?

Do we love or hate the worldliness of the world?

Do we view our environment as "friend or foe?"

If our vows coat the world with an aura of suspicion; does the ability of the elders to annul those vows encourage us to lose that wariness?

Also, a side note. Doesn't the seeming power to revoke and override our commitments by itself, seem incompatible with the very trust it purports to extend? Does not the extent of the power wielded by the elders to undo one's verbal commitment, feel more like a gesture of infantilization than an affirmation of trust?

The truth is, like everything else, we see what we want to see and that is what allows us to experience similar things so differently.

And of course, there is no clear-cut answer. So for example, if you were to ask me "are knives good or bad" I would say it depends on who is holding it and for what purpose; or I would ask how old the person holding it is.

The same holds true for the pleasures of the world, vis a vis the question of spirituality, etc. "There is a time and place for everything" is a truism that is especially true in this arena.

It's entirely feasible that what feels like a distraction to the spirit in the eyes of one person at a particular stage of growth, can actually enhance the spiritual quest of another at a different stage.

For the former, the vow is a blessing. For the latter, it's an obstacle.

The Elders in this context can be seen as controlling people if we choose to see them that way. Or we can see them as the only ones who truly believe and support our belief in ourselves, not because they know something of our particular greatness that others are unaware of. What they see is a human being desperate to move forward, but paralyzed by fear and plagued by self-doubt. These elders become our Rebbes not because they control our vows, or control anything at all. They become our elders when they whisper soft words of support and encouragement into tired ears that have only heard the opposite till now. Ears that have heard what they can't do, words that cut like the above-mentioned knife. Words that flatten and endeavor to keep us small. Words that keep saviors in business. The elder is actually the anti-savior and its nemesis. The elder can be as uncertain of the future as you are but still inspire you to follow the certainty of your faith in your own goodness, in the goodness of the dreams you dream. He annuls the vows of fear and self-doubt that others would readily reinforce to keep you small. To keep you broken and in need of their repair.

We are on the cusp of a new month, in the midst of the most uncertain times we have ever faced. But it's ok. We got this. You got this. Not because we necessarily have all the answers or any of them. There can be beautiful answers in the questions themselves. The angel elders are simply there to point us in that direction. They are out there waiting, in the form of a person, a moment, or a sweet and holy friend. They may be hard to find but they can also be recognizable. They can be identified as "elders" if they lift you up, if they make you feel better about yourself, if in their looming presence you feel surprisingly "taller not smaller."

Perhaps now more than ever, this is the spirit vaccine we need to discover in one another.