Last week my son began complaining about pain in his leg. After a few days with no relief we
decided it was time to see a doctor. The doctor examined him and said, “This is a very serious
disease. He definitely needs surgery. Please take him to the emergency room right now.”
As a father of eight, I am unfortunately no stranger to NYC emergency rooms. I hate them, but
an order is an order. I double checked but the doctor assured me that she knows what she’s
talking about, and even agreed to record a message for my wife regarding the urgency of the
situation.
So there I found myself, on a busy Sunday, already in the midst of dozens of deadlines and other
urgent matters, and all that has to be pushed aside because my son’s health obviously takes
priority.
Thank G-d the ER was mostly empty and we were able to see a doctor immediately.
Imagine my surprise—and relief—to hear this doctor tell me that my son absolutely did not have
the disease the other doctor diagnosed, and would certainly not need surgery. Nevertheless, since
we were there already, they insisted on running some time-consuming tests. Protocol.
After an x-ray, blood work, and a few other medical exams, we got a clean bill of health and
returned home.
I began to wonder why I had trusted that first doctor so much. Why didn’t I just march my son
back home to bed?
Because the doctor has years of medical training, and I do not. So I trust her opinion.
I just wish others would listen to my rabbinical advice the same way I listen to the doctor! After
all, I too have years of training and years of experience working in the field.
A guy comes to me with marital problems. I advise him to schedule a date night (or morning) out
of the house with his wife every week, and make sure nothing gets in the way. Stop shouting at
her, treat her well, and you will begin to feel lovingly towards her again. I also suggest they
begin keeping the family purity laws, but they confidently reassure me that there is absolutely no
chance of that.
Another guy comes to me with serious business problems. I recommend he pray and put on
tefillin daily, but he argues that he sees no connection. I ask myself, do I argue with my doctor
when she sends me to the ER which is a lot more inconvenient than putting on tefillin each
morning?! I do not. I follow orders. So why is my advice questioned? Why am I not trusted?
To a woman with heart problems, I suggest installing mezuzot on all the doors in her house.
“I just bought one for the front door,” she argues.
“We need them on every door,” I insist.
I beg and I plead and begrudgingly she agrees.
Why must I fight? Why doesn’t she listen?
This is how it is with spirituality. We struggled to accept what the Torah says. That’s our
challenge. But by reframing it, and realizing how readily we accept advice from other experts,
surely we can become better at readily accepting the Torah’s wisdom. It’s for our own benefit,
after all!