AAAAARRRRGGGH! Do you ever feel like that? These past few weeks, I've been in the States, struggling to make sense of all the sudden changes that I and my family are undergoing. As a result of the unsettledness, my dear friend Anger has been spending a lot of time with me. When things don't go your way, when they don't go as planned, it's hard to take it in stride. Pharaoh, too, had to deal with a lot of sudden changes, and the entire nation suffered for his unwillingness to bend. But what about Moshe? His life was turned upside down... didn't he have doubts, didn't he have fears? Why don't we see him getting angry?
Rebbe Nachman teaches us that anger arises when our understanding is limited. I've seen it happen to myself daily, in recent weeks. As soon as things stop going my way, the way I think they should go, I get angry. I can't understand why things aren't working out... I'm completely in the dark. That's the plague of darkness, says the Chidushei HaRim, when we become oblivious to an other's need. They need my light right now, but I'm too stuck to shine. Even so, if I could open up and see the light they're radiating, I could find my way over to them; but when I don't look for those other lights, I'm just as stuck as the Egyptians were in the darkness. As an "am kadosh," a separate nation, we are never alone in our darkness; yet we are also human beings (adahm) made of earth (adahma), deeply entrenched in our environment. We must constantly aim to use that intimate connection with our environment to find the spiritual truths hidden within it, and beyond it.
Moshe was our light out of the darkness in Egypt. In fear of Pharaoh's decree, Moshe's birth was kept a secret, only to be revealed when he was drawn out of the water. Gavriel G. taught us in the Daff two "Bo"s ago, that this month, Shvat, is the month of the water carrier, Aquarius. In the middle of the winter, just when things seem darkest, a bucket is lowered into murky depths. But, OH! From that darkness emerges fresh water. It's always, there, just below the surface. Moshe was constantly struggling to make sense of G-d's message and find the hidden light in the world. "Why send me?" "I'm no orator." "How can you expect them to listen?" "Just save them already!" Unlike Pharaoh, though, he left room for truth. Pharoah was so sure of himself, there was no room in his hardened heart for G-d.
When a person fights against his anger and overcomes it, says Rebbe Nachman, the light of Meshiach, of redemption, comes down into the world. That's what Moshe did, and that's what we must do. Each time I let go of my assumption that I know best, I open my eyes to the light in front of me. It might be coming from my sister, my teacher, or the telemarketer on the phone; but no matter where it comes from, if I let the light in, it will soften that hardness in my heart. Really, it's the same light of Meshiach that Moshe brought into the world. Tu B'Shvat is next Thursday, the new year for the trees. It's a beautiful opportunity to reconnect to our "adam"ness, and see that new year ahead of us. May this Shabbat bless us with a new heart, a soft heart, a human heart that longs to be set free.