Guest Rambler, Yitty Koval
It Ain't About a Little Paint
Last Sunday, my sister Hindy and I decided to finally tackle a project we’d been talking about for a while — painting our bedroom walls. Hindy had just moved her bedroom into my father’s old study, and the walls gave off distinct rabbi’s-old-study vibes: maroon and mustard yellow paint. Not her favorite. And I had chosen my bedroom’s paint colors when I was eleven, ending up with a soft pastel theme of light blue and lavender walls. They were cute, but I wanted a change.
After watching a bunch of DIY-paint-your-own walls videos on YouTube, Hindy and I got our supplies from Home Depot in the morning and then got to work. Painting walls is a big job and it took us pretty much the whole Sunday. We were happy with the results — light gray walls for my sister’s bedroom and the same light gray walls with one dark gray accent wall for my bedroom. We congratulated ourselves on our hard work, cleaned up, and went to sleep.
I didn’t give much deep thought to the project until the next day. I was walking out of my bedroom on Monday morning and noticed a couple of small patches of light blue paint peeking through the shiny new gray near the door. I was so annoyed. How could I have made the mistake of missing a few spots while painting?
Truthfully though, when I gave it more thought, I realized that the spots were so small and barely noticeable. It would be a shame to beat myself up over those tiny patches of blue paint. I had almost forgotten about the whole room: the freshly painted four walls which I was super excited about.
The next day, Tuesday, I was listening to a short talk from last year’s High Holiday season wherein Rabbi Yechiel Spero, a noted Rabbi, speaker and author (and an old boyhood friend of my father's), was discussing some ideas regarding the concept of teshuvah, repentance. In his talk, Rabbi Spero discussed the following verse from the weekday Shacharit morning prayer:
“Zachar l’olam brito, davar tziva l’elef dor.” This means: “He (God) remembered His covenant forever, the word He had commanded to the thousandth generation.”
This verse is referencing the generation that witnessed the revelation at Mount Sinai, when the words of the Torah were transmitted to them through Moses. Rabbi Spero raises the question: why is that generation referred to as “the thousandth generation”? Chronologically, there were 26 generations from Adam’s time to Moses’. Why would the Jews at Mount Sinai be referred to as the thousandth, instead of the 26th, generation?
His answer was sourced from a great Torah scholar from the 1800s named Rabbi Chaim Yaakov Dovid Azulai, better known as “the Chida,” an acronym of his name. The Chida expounded on the words “the thousandth generation” with the following midrash commentary:
“Melamed she’Hakadosh Baruch Hu borei olamos u’macharivan, ad she’bara es eilu, v’amar: ‘dayn hanyan li. Yason, lo hanyan li.’” This means: “God created worlds and destroyed them, until He created this one. Then He said: ‘This one is good for Me. The other ones aren’t good for Me.’”
The short verse that is uttered by many in the daily morning prayers is actually a really mystical idea. It teaches that God literally created and subsequently destroyed 974 previous worlds until He created the world we live in now. Therefore, Adam’s generation can be considered the 974th generation, making Moses’ generation literally the thousandth.
Rabbi Spero quoted Rabbi Chaim Shmuelevitz, a Torah leader who passed away in 1979. Rabbi Shmuelevitz asked: Why? Why did God find it necessary to create and destroy almost 1,000 worlds? I found the answer to be pretty mind-blowing. God, who is perfect in every way, allowed Himself to demonstrate imperfection in His actions, all to teach us a beautiful lesson. He created and destroyed, over and over again, as if pre-imitating the humanly concept of mistakes. He wanted us to learn from His process of creating and destroying that, as Rabbi Spero put it, “God doesn’t expect perfection. He expects us to try.”
The first thing on my mind when the High Holidays came around this year were the areas I’ve been slacking in my Judaism. When I examined my personal spiritual standards in my relationship with God, as well as my interpersonal and intra-personal relationships, I was focusing primarily on the places I’ve fallen. And after hearing Rabbi Spero’s talk, I was reminded of those little blue patches of paint on my wall. They’re a perfect analogy for the concept of mistakes.
It’s easy to let feelings of guilt and overwhelm take over when we sit down and start to introspect. Regret is an important key to the process of repentance; examining our mistakes is where we begin the journey of self-improvement. Yet let’s remember that it doesn’t end there. Don’t miss the forest for the trees — or don’t miss four freshly painted gray walls for a couple of small blue patches.
The upcoming days leading to Yom Kippur are so holy and therefore such a unique and beautiful opportunity. May we all, with God’s help, be able to recognize our mistakes, resolve to do better, and also be proud of where we are as a whole.
Shabbat Shalom,
Yitty Koval