Yes or No?
The following conversation took place recently between myself and my 6-year-old son, Chaim.
“Chaim, it’s time to go to sleep,” I said. “Shamigos,” he replied. “What does that mean?” I asked. “It means ‘no,’” Chaim replied.
Being part of a large family, immediate and extended, I am used to hearing silly made-up words from children. In fact, a cousin of my wife is a full-grown adult and is still called “Googy” (her real name is Rachel) by family members because that is what her younger sibling called her when she was little. A nephew of mine is known as “Squishy” for the same reason (he’s only 3, so there’s still hope).
Back to my conversation with Chaim. Ok, I thought, apparently I need to now add the word “shamigos” to my dictionary when speaking with Chaim.
The rest of the day, whenever he and I spoke and one of us wanted to say the word “no” we instead used the word “shamigos.” Being a parent makes you do some really strange things.
The next day I was trying once again to get Chaim to bed. “Chaim, if you don’t come now I can’t read you a bedtime story. Do you want to hear a story?” “Shamigos,” he said. Remembering that “shamigos” means no, I was surprised.
“You don’t want to hear a story?!” I asked.
“I do want to hear a story,” he said.
“But I thought shamigos means no?” I asked.
“No!” he said. “Shamigos means yes, shamigahs means no!”
“But yesterday you told me that shamigos means no,” I responded.
“No, shamigos means yes and shamigahs means no,” he retorted.
Ok, so now I had to make a new change to my 6-year-old vocabulary. Truthfully, it didn’t matter because by the time a few days passed both of those words were forgotten. Such is the attention span of a 6-year-old boy!
I mention this because I find an interesting parallel between this and this past week’s Torah portion.
We find Moses, upon the command of G-d, approaching the Egyptian Pharaoh and demanding that he allow the Jewish nation to be released from their bondage and be set free. Throughout the year-long period of the 10 plagues that G-d wrought upon the Egyptians, Pharaoh is constantly making concessions and begging for forgiveness, if only G-d would
bring an end to that particular plague.
Yet each time the plague would cease, Pharaoh changed his mind. “I can’t let everyone go, I can only allow the men to leave,” he said. Then it was “I can let the adults go, but not the children.” After that it was, “I can allow the people to leave but not the livestock.” When faced with the pain of the ongoing plague Pharaoh promised the world but when the suffering was removed he “moved the goalposts” and changed his words.
Many of us fall into the same trap.
When we are faced with difficult situations we often turn towards G-d for assistance and, recognizing we want to give something back to G-d in return, we will promise to better ourselves in one way or another. Then, when the situation improves, too often people quickly change their tune. “I didn’t quite mean it.” “I had something else in mind.” Etc.
There is an old joke told about a person who was running late for an important meeting and arrived to the parking lot, only to find the lot completely full. Desperate not to be late for this important meeting he offered a sincere prayer to G-d. “Dear G-d, this meeting is paramount to me and I need to find a parking spot so that I can get there on time. If you get me a spot I promise I will be careful to go to synagogue every Sabbath.”
Just as he concluded his prayer a car pulled out of a spot right in front of the building! He zipped right into the spot and, as he put the car into park, he lifted his eyes heavenward and said “Never mind G-d, I found a spot myself!”
While it might be acceptable and even anticipated that Chaim will not be consistent with his words, and such behavior can also be anticipated from a wicked dictator such as Pharaoh, it is not behavior that we should tolerate from ourselves. We must always strive to be faithful with our words, whether in dealing with our fellow man or in our interactions with G-d.
If we are looking for an area of inspiration to take out of our study of the Torah portion (after all, that is primarily why we study – so that we can put those lessons to use) perhaps this can be something we can reflect on and try and incorporate into our lives.
Is it hard? Perhaps. Can it be done? Shamigahs! (As you know, that means yes - at least for today!)
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Yosef
