I’m going to start this post out by saying everything written below may be completely wrong. I apologize ahead of time and thank God Thursday is Yom Kippur.

For those who haven’t been keeping up with my blog, my mother has been in treatment for a form of bone marrow cancer and baruch Hashem she’s recovering well. Over the last year, there have been quite a few ups and downs and everyone in my family has done what they could to be there for her. That being said, there were some instances where members of my family wanted me to break Shabbos or Chag (holiday) to drive to visit my mom and do my part.

One member in particular said, “God will understand.”

God will understand? Of course God will understand! There’s no question He understands. Who made my mother sick? Who made her illness get worse on a Shabbos? Hashem put me in this situation. It’s not like this impossible scenario came out of nowhere and oops, God forgot it would put me in a dilemma. This situation is a test. But what sort of test?  An obedience test to determine my loyalty between my mother vs Hashem? No. 

We’re all on a journey of growth. If we’re ba’al teshuvah (someone returning to Torah) we’re slowly taking on more and more mitzvahs. If we’re observant from birth, then hopefully we’re refining the nuance of the mitzvahs we do, connecting to them on deeper and more focused or even stringent levels. But every one of us has a line, a point where “we’re not quite there yet.” That is called our bechira point. That’s where our free will lives. 

If we are keeping kosher and have been for years, then whether we’re going to eat a pork chop or not, isn’t going to be a dilemma. It’s way below the bechira point. Conversely, if someone just started becoming observant, maybe, they’ve finally worked up the courage to ask their boss to never be scheduled to work on a Saturday… that person isn’t ready to take on a three day Yom Tov (when a holiday and Shabbat immediately follow each other). For them, three consecutive days of no work is beyond their choice. Our bechira point is where we are ambivalent, compellingly pulled between the tug of war of what Torah commands vs being afraid to trust it will all work out.

One morning I got a call that mom was having a cardiac event. I rushed over to the hospital at 6:30 am and stayed with her until around noon. But that was a Wednesday. The following Shabbos morning I got a call that my father was in the ER for a completely unrelated matter, but he wanted me to go visit my mom just to check up on her. I was prepared to walk to the hospital, leaving my wife and daughter, but my mom insisted I stay home. 

But what would have happened if I had gotten the call about my mother’s cardiac event on Shabbos morning? And instead of being at the nearby Cedar-Sinai, she was at Torrance Memorial? What would I have done? What if the situation was worse and Hashem forbid, she had taken a much worse turn and it may be my last chance to see her ever? I’m telling you right now, I’d probably have broken Shabbos and driven to see her.

Now just to be clear, if there’s a chance my presence could help save her life, I’m commanded to break Shabbos without delay. Also Ubering or riding in an electric car may not be breaking Shabbos via the Torah. Please consult your Rabbi. I’m just trying to illustrate there is more nuance to Torah Law than I am actually presenting for my scenario. The point is, I’ve identified the level of my bechira point. I will drive to be with my mother on Shabbos if she needs it, even if it isn’t necessarily a matter of life and death. I understand that and God certainly understands that too.

Maybe perhaps this family member meant that God will understand and so He will forgive me. And once again, of course God will forgive me. But that doesn’t mean there will be no consequences. There are always consequences. Take for example that, God forbid, you were in a car crash. Your brakes suddenly fail (because of a manufacturing issue so it’s really not your fault) and you crash into the car in front of you. You’re not responsible for any of the damages. However, the crash still did do damage. Just because you were ruled not liable doesn’t magically take away the back pain of the person you rear ended. So too, when we break things like Shabbos, even if it’s not our fault, there are still spiritual consequences brought into the world. 

Except when we do teshuvah. 

Teshuvah is a miracle. When done properly, with sincerity and introspection, teshuvah not only brings forgiveness, it makes it better than if we had never done the sin in the first place. We learn more about ourselves, those we’ve offended, and it makes stronger bonds. It’s like one of those Japanese Kintsugi ceramic bowls that are mended with gold. The part that is broken becomes more valuable than the original ceramic. But even better than that, all the spiritual consequences created by the sin literally disappear. On a mystical level it’s like the back pain from the accident would be gone and the damage to the car, instantly fixed. 

Teshuvah has three essential steps. Regretting the sin, articulating aloud that it was wrong, and finally resolving to never do it again. But what if you can’t resolve never to do it again? I know that if my mom ends up in the hospital again, and things, God forbid, go south on a Shabbos or holiday, I’m probably going to go to her. Can I do teshuvah on this? 

It’s very difficult to understand a God that would demand I stay home when emotionally I would want to comfort my mother or be there for her final moments. Even though Judaism is focused on the pursuit of understanding Hashem, there will always be things we won’t understand. Because if I demand I understand everything before I agree to it, that means I’m not in a covenant with Hashem, I’d be in a contract, a business agreement. It would be all about me, not about Him. But that’s not Judaism. Judaism is a relationship with Hashem. And in relationships we sometimes do things for our partner because it is what they want or need, even if the reason is beyond us. 

God knows where your bechira point is. A ba’al teshuvah at their first Yom Kippur in an Orthodox shul isn’t going to do teshuvah for not eating Pas Yisroel (a stringency of bread over the 10 days of teshuvah). That’s not where they need to grow. We’re human, as Koheles 7:20 says, “There is no one on earth who is righteous, no one who does what is right and never sins.” However, being human doesn’t mean we gleefully accept our flaws. It means that failing is not only okay, it is necessary, as long as we keep trying. The teshuvah we should focus on are the tests that are right at our bechira point. The steps we want to take but that we’re struggling with. God understands. He understands our struggles, our heart, and most of all what we are capable of. If there’s one area we can’t commit to right now, Hashem understands that too.