Rabbi Chaim Bruk and his family

Earlier this week I was studying the Gemara in the tractate of Pesachim where the Amoraim discuss the prohibition of pigul as it relates to the korban Pesach, the pascal lamb offering on erev Pesach. Pigul is the mitzvah that instructs us that if during the time of sacrificing the korban in the Beis HaMikdash, the kohen thought of eating the sacrifice past the time permitted or outside of the permitted space, the korban is disqualified. Within that discussion, the Talmudic sages discuss whether a person’s intent and speech need to be in sync throughout the process or whether the kohen having a potentially proper intent without actually verbalizing that objective is meaningful as well. The halachah is that a kohen must have “piv v’libo shavin,” his heart and mouth totally in sync.

As I studied this delightful piece of Talmud, it got me thinking about something Chavie talks about often in our home, something valuable for us as a couple and just as important for our children: the importance of living with integrity. It’s one of the hardest things for any human being to stick with, but it’s really an indication of who we are at our core. If we can’t be honest with ourselves, if we can’t own up to who we truly are and how we really feel, then how can we ever expect to make healthy changes? How can we hope to have valuable relationships? It’s more than just “putting our money where our mouth is.” It’s not only about “healthy communication” but also about the genuine, and, may I say, noble, endeavor to express your essence and be truthful to who you are, which is vulnerable and freeing simultaneously.

There are times that “fake it until you make it” is acceptable and even encouraged, as enough practice does get us closer to perfect, so long as the “fake it” period is one in which you can openly admit to yourself that this is your plan and share that with those closest to you. It’s OK to say, “I’m not fully there, my heart isn’t fully on board yet, but I want this to become me, I want this to be the new me, I want to attain a greater bond with Hashem, so I’m working on it and hopefully I won’t have to ‘just do it’ for much longer and it will actually become me.” Living a life where one thinks and believes a certain way and speaks or acts totally different is unhealthy. We need to be truthful to ourselves, despite the discomfort, about the internal/external mismatch, and hopefully that openness will lead to a more stable spiritual experience.

Just last Friday, a Yid from Flatbush, who pledged $180 to our Chabad center in 2013 and then fell on hard times, sent me a Facebook message: “I would like to pay the $180 I owe from a few years back … Please let me know if that amount is correct.” I was blown away as I totally forgot about his pledge; it’s been nine years. I haven’t asked him about it in at least seven or eight years, but he didn’t forget; he lives with genuine integrity that is laudable and a sign of a person who lives with emes.

In this week’s parashah, Sh’mos, we read about Jewish life under harsh Egyptian rule. The Midrash tells us regarding the Exodus that the Jews merited their freedom on account of their behavior. One Midrash says, ‘“And there they became a nation’ — this teaches that the Israelites were distinct there, in that their clothing, food, and language was different from the Egyptians. They were identified and known as a separate nation, apart from the Egyptians.” And the other says, “R’ Huna said in the name of Bar Kapparah: Because of four things Israel was redeemed from Egypt: They didn’t change their names or their language, they didn’t speak lashon ha’ra, and none of them was promiscuous.”

As a chassid, I’ve always loved these particular Midrashim because it comes with a healthy dose of Jewish shtoltz, the unapologetic Jewish identification, that we as Lubavitchers adore. Keeping your Jewish name, your Jewish dress code, your Jewish language, and your Jewish speech are behaviors that make us stand out, that make us recognizably Jewish and different, which ensures that we retain our connection to our heritage, even when living in places as distant as Montana. I don’t have an English name; the pharmacist, for example, has to figure out how to butcher the name Chaim, and we enjoy lots of good laughs on that account. I don’t have one dress code for Montana and another for Brooklyn; my yarmulke, tzitzis, black hat, and so on are just as part of my appearance here as it is back east, and people love the diversity it brings to our community. So I admit that I enjoy standing out, being able to proclaim by my mere existence that I’m honored to be part of a “Mamleches Kohanim.”

Yet, as I read the Gemara, I realized there is another aspect to this Midrash that is just as important, and that is being authentic to yourself. If you believe that a yarmulke is important and part of your identity then it should be on your head proudly even when you’re at a gas station while on a road trip in rural America, where you may be concerned that the people in that place won’t get it. If carrying is prohibited in a hotel lobby without making an eruv chatzeiros, then no Jew should ever be “ashamed” to make the kinyan, the symbolic acquisition of the space, with the front-desk manager, as this is part of your tradition and doing so is perfectly in sync with who you are as a Torah-observant Jew. If tznius, modesty, is important to you, then you should be comfortable swimming with a swim dress as Chavie and our girls do. It boils down to the Talmudic statement in Yoma regarding the Aron Kodesh, the ark in the Holy Temple, which was gilded on the inside and outside: “Any Torah scholar who is not tocho k’baro (identical inside and out) is no Torah scholar.” A Torah scholar, and, for that matter, every human being, must live life with integrity.

This is an important concept that our yeshiva system, for both boys and girls, needs to focus on. We all want our children to live as observant, Torah-loving Jews, following every halachah in Shulchan Aruch to the minutest minhag that we cherish, but just as importantly, we don’t want it to be fake. If they struggle, we want them to tell us about it. If they have questions, we want them to ask about it. And if they are rebelling, we prefer they rebel with our knowledge and a hope for some parental guidance rather than feeling too scared. We don’t want to be surprised one day that they’ve actually been “elsewhere” for a very long time. It starts by being authentic with ourselves and our families. If we can own our mistakes, if we can apologize for misspeaking, if we can talk openly about the mitzvos that are hard for us, if we can talk about our personal inability to sit still in shul for longer than ten minutes, then perhaps our children and students will feel more comfortable talking to us, and the more they do, the better chance there is for “piv v’libo shavin,” for genuine compatibility between their mind/heart and their expressions.

This Friday is the 24th of Teves, when we commemorate the 208th yahrzeit of the Alter Rebbe, founder of Chabad Chassidus and author of the Tanya. We are told that regarding the letter that begins with the word “Katonti” (printed in the Tanya, Iggeres HaKodesh, Epistle 2) that if the Alter Rebbe had not inserted the three words “b’middas emes l’Yaakov, according to the attribute of truth unto Yaakov,” he would have had an additional 50,000 chassidim, but the Rebbe demands the middah (trait) of emes (truth). Being truthful and working through our scary truth is part-and-parcel of the life journey of the Jew.

It would have been way easier for the Jews to give up on their names and dress code in Mitzrayim, but they couldn’t — it was who they were and should never be denied. In the Gift of Imperfection, Brené Brown writes, “Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”

She’s right.

Rabbi Chaim Bruk is co-CEO of Chabad Lubavitch of Montana and spiritual leader of The Shul of Bozeman. For comments or to partner in our holy work, email rabbi@jewishmontana.com or visit JewishMontana.com/Donate.

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