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The Short Vort- -“Visiting Day 5770” (7/13/10)
The Short Vort
Good Morning!
Today is Tuesday the 2nd of Av 5770 and July 13, 2010
Visiting Day 5770
There is nothing which strikes fear into the hearts of grown men and women than the realization that this Sunday is visiting day in camp.
Please allow me to fill in my readers who are not from the New York area about the ritual known as ‘visiting day’.
Visiting occurs twice a year in the summer; once in July and once in August.
There is much to learn and to write about visiting day- about bunks which are cleaned spotless once a year and about tubes of toothpaste which are emptied to give parents the impression that their son brushed his teeth at least once in the entire summer.
However, my point in today’s Vort does not involve the campers, meaning, those being visited- rather, it involves those doing the visiting; namely, the parents.
For many parents, who have different children in different camps, visiting day is challenging to say the least.
You jungle your day by leaving the ‘city’ early in the morning to go see child #1 at camp A and from there you take child #1 to visit child #2 who is at camp B. From there you take child # 1 and child # 2 to visit child # 3 who is at camp C.
As you can imagine, it is very difficult to satisfy everyone and most often it is impossible to satisfy anyone!
Child # 1 will be insulted at to why they had to be picked up first just as a good activity was starting. However, child #2 will be equally as insulted for having to waste time and wait around camp with nothing to do. Child # 3 is also deeply insulted, as by the time the visiting party reaches camp C, he will discover that all of the good nosh has been consumed by his hungry siblings and all he is left with is black jelly bellies, which of course he claims he would never eat them ‘even if he was in Russia without any food or water!”
Therefore, you can understand that there is a certain amount of trepidation in the house as my wife and I prepare for our annual excursion to the mountains.
This Sunday, as we set off, all was going well.
We had three children to visit in three different camps, however, because of scheduling differences, the order of the visits was quite clear and understood by all.
My wife in her genius- (Whatever you ever want to say about me, there is one thing which I have done which certainly proves that I am not too stupid. After all, I ‘picked’ a good smart wife- so I can’t be that dumb!)- carefully packed the nosh packages with tape and names clearly written on them to preclude the tragedy of one child getting one more piece of licorice than their sibling!
We arrived at Camp A and picked up child #1 and off we went to Camp B to see child # 2.
As we were driving, my asked for the GPS and since the roads are curvy and unfamiliar she said she would program it as I droved.
At one point, when it appeared to me that progress was not being made in the GPS settings, I pulled over and asked my wife if now that I had pulled over if I should relieve her of offer to set the GPS and I would do it. (I love playing with the little gadget)
My wife felt –and correctly so- that since she had begun the mitzvah, she should finish the mitzvah and she continued to set the machine until it was ready to ‘go’.
After she finished she handed me back the machine. However, I noticed that she had failed to switch from ‘ABC’ (letters) to ‘123’(numbers) when putting in the number of the desired route and therefore the destination read ‘Route SE’ as opposed to ‘Route 52. The machine therefore, could not respond with its usual ‘calculating route’ statement.
At that moment, probably because I has only slept two hours the night before, and probably because I wanted to program my little toy, I improperly and somewhat proudly announced, “ha, ha, you did not do it correctly, there is no Route SE’. We are not going anywhere”.
I realized too late that my attempt at humor was more cynical and critical than needed and I had obviously hurt my wife’s feelings.
Realizing that the tension level in the car was approaching visiting day toxic levels, I quickly ‘timed my self out’ and took advantage of being pulled over, to exit the car, collect my thoughts and return to the car while leaving outside the car my callous and unappreciated sarcasm and cynicism.
I re-entered the car minus the sarcasm and Baruch Hashem, the rest of the day went safe and smooth without any bumps or difficulties.
However, the events of the GPS fiasco were a powerful lesson for me.
Here I am the ‘rabbi’ of a congregation who ostensibly promotes peace and self-control amongst the congregation, and I try and should be a role model in this regard.
Yet, here I am getting upset and flustered because I did not get the chance to play with the GPS!
Is anything more humiliating and embarrassing than to have to admit to the entire Short Vort list that I become ‘bent out of shape’ over the fact that my wife insisted on being the one to program the GPS and that she didn’t do it correctly?
Where can I hide my face and my shame now that the game is over?
I can see the bloggers and correctly so, gleefully announcing,
“Orthodox Rabbi who preaches peace and tolerance and self-control- flies off the handle when his wife insists on setting his GPS. Full story to follow….”
However, that is the truth.
I cannot take it back.
What do I learn from this?
What do I attempt to take from this embarrassing lesson?
My lesson is simple:
No matter how much you may think you have improved, you are still human.
No matter how great I may think I have become; no matter how much growth I think I have made in the areas of middos, I now know that I am not, have never been, nor will I ever be (until the day when I go to my final rest) totally inoculated or protected and certainly I will never be immune to the temptations, seductions and entrapments of the Yetzer Hora.
As long as I am breathing, he (the Yetzer Hora) will continue to breathe and plan and that realization keeps me on guard.
However, that realization must also make me realize that I will fall sometime; and that when I do fall, I am being human. My job is not to run away in shame when I fall, rather, it is to get up, wipe off the dust as best as possible and attempt to do better tomorrow.
Thank Hashem, this relatively small incident did not ‘shter’ (disrupt) the day and Barcuh Hashem, all was fine.
However, the lesson which I had to learn on my own skin is a valuable one indeed.
Say as I may that ‘I am above this’ or ‘that doesn’t bother me’. I am just fooling myself.
I do care when I cannot be the one to play with the GPs and it does bother me, when I cannot be the one in charge.
I am and can be and will be petty. I am a work in progress.
I thank my wife for her constant perseverance and patience with me and my middos; and I thank Hashem for allowing me to awake today and for giving me the chance to try better.