Wherever the Doors Open

Let me walk you through a typical day to explain:

I’m fortunate to live above an outdoor mall where I can do most of my regular shopping. I walk across the courtyard to take the elevator bank down to the mall. The elevator opens and I’m suddenly dumbfounded when I look at the options. I see a 0 followed by a G then an L. Then we’re back to numbers -1, -2…and then a 3 underneath both of those? I heard math class was harder in Israel than America but this seems above my pay grade.

After a few tries, the door opens to the mall but two teenagers immediately bolt into the elevator before I can exit with my stroller. Not the first time that’s happened – do they teach this in school?

I proceed to do my shopping. Perhaps I need to buy candles at the flower store, or a new frying pan at the pharmacy. I scurry past a sign that says “cigarettes, alcohol, and lottery tickets,” which happens to also be a kids candy store…don’t want my kids to start developing a sugar habit.

Maybe I stop on a bench to look at a few real estate postings hoping there’s something I can finally afford to buy in my neighborhood. One post has no pictures and no address for 13.2M. The other has an address (score!) but only has two pictures of the bathroom. How do these real estate agents get away with this?

Anyway I digress. When I step back and REALLY think about what doesn’t make sense here, how can I not mention elections? There are more parties than boys named Lavi at the playground after gan, and despite being the startup nation, we still vote on paper slips you drop in a box like it’s 1948. And after all that, you don’t even really decide who wins, your party does, by choosing who they want to buddy up with after the fact. Somehow it all works out in the end, or doesn’t, and we do it all over again a year or two later.

To dig us out of this bashing session, we need to turn to the parsha to lift us back up. Avraham Avinu is searching his whole life for something real, in a land full of spiritual emptiness. After 75 years, HaShem finally speaks to him and tells him to go: lech lecha. No specific destination, no directions. Just to leave what he’s known his whole life and trust that HaShem will show him where to go. And Avraham does, with no hesitation.

After telling Avraham what he needs to leave behind, HaShem mentions one last point: “al ha’aretz asher arecha”. Usually this gets translated to “a land that I will show you”. If we take our literal glasses off for a moment, I believe it’s the line we need to hear now, and every day going forward:

HaShem is telling Avraham, “this land that you’re coming to, yes it’s a land like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, but it’s a land that’s only as good as you see it.” That’s asher arecha. Not a land I will show you, but a land you’re being trusted to see.

If this land blows your mind, gevalt is it going to blow your mind moment after moment. If you’re going to focus on why the cheese doesn’t melt over pasta the same way it did back in America, then you’re in for quite the ride.

These quirks that you and I encounter in our daily life are just pawns to clear out of the way. Even the election which is a much more consequential periodical event we’re about to face is conquerable. No matter the results (and don’t blame me as I’m voting for the same person as you), we know that any kind of beginning is dark and uncharted territory. This is going to be a new government no matter if we see familiar faces or not and it will come with a new feeling we don’t quite know how to deal with right away.

But just like we saw a few parshas ago, the light comes after darkness, after new beginnings. And the light doesn’t passively come, but we are taught that we need to bring the light in an active way. We try to emulate HaShem and the first way we learn is to “vayehi ohr,” to let it BE light.

So come step on this elevator with me. I’ll admit I still don’t know which button to press, and fair warning, we might need to shove our way past a few Israelis just to get off. Maybe we land on the floor we meant to. Maybe we end up somewhere completely unplanned, in a stairwell, a parking garage, who knows. But wherever those doors open, let’s walk out together, eyes open, ready to see a land that’s as good as we choose to see it.