A Jewish thought leader recently said on a podcast “You can’t teach character.”
As a Mussar guy, I objected – of course you can teach character.
I kept percolating, and realized they were right. And while you can’t teach character, you can learn it. It’s like that old joke: How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb? One, but the lightbulb has to want to change. Indeed, I have gone great pains to say that our weekly Mussar Gathering is not a class, and I am not a teacher. We are on a journey of personal growth together. I can facilitate the process, and we can learn together, but I can’t teach you how to grow and build character. The work is all on your side.
The question I am asking myself this Rosh Hashanah is what do I want to learn next year? I have goals like writing my thesis and getting a job. I’m taking classes in Jewish Education, Hebrew and the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel. But none of them will teach me, they will only provide me with opportunities for learning. (In fact, I’m realizing that this mindset is influenced by reading in my education class, which invited us to change from a teaching mindset to a learning mindset.)
But our character, who we are, is what we are all invited to put under the microscope during the High Holidays. The prayers, the rituals, at the end of the day they are there to help us with the process of Cheshbon Ha’Nefesh, accounting of the soul.
This is the season where we strive to see ourselves as we truly are, and to love ourselves at we truly are. For if the Divine can forgive us, then we should be able to forgive ourselves. And then from this perspective of self acceptance, we go about growing and correcting our mistakes from the past year.
Wishing you a Sweet New Year, and meaningful learning to guide your journey.
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Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash
At long last: A week off! No classes, no internship, no deadlines. And as a result, I’m really stressed out. I find myself pulled into the future, wondering about classes for next year, how to fill gaps I have in service leading, and planning for a return as student Rabbi to the synagogue where I interned.
One of the goals of a Mussar practice is to achieve a state of wholeness. What does that mean exactly? Just the sound of the phrase evokes almost a wistfulness in me, a longing for peace. Indeed, the Hebrew word for wholeness as the same root at the Hebrew word for peace, which is Shalom.