Suffering from a sore throat this past weekend, I tried to treat myself with tea, honey, lots of fluids and more rest than usual. When several days passed, and my throat still felt no better, I made myself a doctor’s appointment – something I haven’t done in years.
After checking my ears and my throat, the doctor prescribed me Penicillin. Obediently, I took the prescription to the pharmacy, bought the medication and began taking it immediately. Within 48 hours I was feeling much better.
The following day I had an appointment to speak with a couple who were facing a certain set of difficulties. After hearing them out, I recommended they begin keeping the Jewish family purity laws. The husband and wife both assured me that there was no chance whatsoever of that happening.
Their quick and immediate dismissal of my advice got me thinking.
The vast majority of people trust their doctors implicitly. Most will never seriously question their doctor’s advice or prescriptions. They know doctors go through years of rigorous study and hands-on training to learn how to deal with all kinds of ailments. When the doctor prescribed me penicillin, it didn’t occur to me to say “no thanks.” After all, he is a medical professional!
But I am also a professional. A religious professional. I have spent my entire life learning Torah. I studied in the Ivy League schools of Jewish education for 15 years and I received my “Master’s” (my rabbinical ordination) from the Harvard of the Torah world. So why are people so hesitant to take my religious and spiritual advice? And it happens all the time. Sometimes I suggest a person begin lighting Shabbat candles, other times a healthy dose of charity or daily tefillin. And more often than not, people refuse to even consider my recommendations.
In my quest to understand, I was reminded of a man whose only daughter developed a large cyst on her stomach. The doctors were talking about removing it surgically, and warned the patient that the operation was not simple and may not be successful.
The concerned father travelled to New York to consult the Lubavitcher Rebbe. The Rebbe recommended postponing the surgery for a couple of months until the Jewish month of Adar. The Rebbe felt that the month of Adar – which is closely associated with joy – would positively influence the young woman’s chance for a successful operation and speedy recovery.
The man agreed.
Then the Rebbe further advised him to take his daughter out of public school and enroll her in a Jewish school. The man thanked the Rebbe but explained that his daughter is happy in her current school, and he does not wish to move her.
To this the Rebbe replied, "You follow my medical advice even though I am not a doctor, but when it comes to education – in which I am an expert – you won’t even consider listening?”
I thought some more, and I came to realize that it’s a lot easier for most people to believe in something tangible. It’s extremely difficult to perceive how something spiritual can provide physical help. It’s easier to understand that taking a pill will cure an illness than to understand that keeping kosher will keep a person healthy and that charity will increase a person’s wealth.
On Sunday we enter the saddest time of the Jewish year, known as the Three Weeks. During this period we mourn the destruction of the first and second Holy Temples, and the resulting exile we are still in. The Three Weeks begins with a fast day, the 17th of Tammuz. This day is a sad day, but also an opportune one. We are in mourning, but at the same time we look towards rebuilding and try to think, “What can I do to help hasten the Redemption?”
Let’s use these three weeks wisely. Let’s take the spiritual “medicine” the Torah prescribes – I assure you that it works wonders and it will only help us move closer to our goal, to the rebuilding of the third and final Temple.
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