A Light Unto the Nations
Being a "light unto the nations" is both a lofty and daunting Jewish mandate. As an obviously religious Jew, the responsibility is at the forefront of my mind whenever I'm out in public, especially if I'm wearing a headscarf or I'm with my boys in their yarmulkes.
This month, my family made our annual NY/NJ road trip to visit friends and family as we do each summer. (OK, to visit AND to eat every kosher delicacy the east coast has to offer. I am not embarrassed to confess that I even made a food collage for Instagram.) At one point, me, my kids, and my mother went to a place called Manasquan Reservoir, and booked a short tour on a boat.
We were late getting on the boat because we were waiting for one of my family members, so when we did finally get on the boat, I was embarrassed and flustered. Then I realized that my kids weren't sitting together and weren't with my mother. I contemplated whether I should make a further scene, in my obviously religious dress, by asking if it would be OK for us to move up to some empty seats.
On the one hand, there was nothing off about the request. The boat hadn't left yet, and the seats were empty. On the other hand, I didn't want to be one of those high-maintenance patrons. After weighing the whole "light unto the nations" thing, I determined that it was perfectly legitimate and I asked the boat driver if we could move up to the front to sit near my mom. He said "sure," so we moved up as everyone stared, upon which the tour leader at the front of the boat said, "Excuse me ma'am, but we need everyone seated!"
Amidst titters from the crowd, we resettled uncomfortably in our new seats, while the other patrons cracked sarcastic comments like "hey, can I move up? That's my uncle up there." Flushed and embarrassed, I re-contemplated our choice. I still didn't think we had done anything wrong.
Being a good example doesn't always mean being popular, liked, or understood. Sometimes we will do the right thing and others will still consider us weird, irrational, or backward. It's really OK, because being a light is not about a popularity contest. And being a light doesn't even have to be about others and their perceptions. What I realized, while blushing furiously on the boat at Manasquan Reservoir, is that being a light means doing the right thing as often and as wholesomely as you can. It means putting positive energy, spiritual choices, and value-based judgment out there into the world as much as possible.
Where the world sees and applauds, congratulations. Where the world will mock, buck up and be proud. Because doing the right thing isn't always going to be the popular thing. Tolerating the comments silently on that boat was a mussar moment for me. It taught me that my choices will not always be liked - but that's OK. I will continue to try and shine my light, publicly and privately, and I hope you will too. Because the world needs as much light as possible - whether you're at Manasquan Reservoir, at work, or sitting at home all by yourself.
And the person who benefits most from that light will be you. Enjoy!
Shabbat shalom!
Ruchi Koval
