This article by Rabbi Maor Greene, associate chaplain for Jewish life, was originally published in The Wisdom Daily, The National Jewish Center for Learning and Leadership's outlet for political, cultural, and spiritual commentary, analysis and inspiration. CLAL is a leading Jewish organization focused on innovation and belonging.
Failure is a fundamental part of the human experience. However, it is often difficult to know what to do with the broken pieces of our lives. How can we see our shattered dreams as core parts of who we are, holy aspects of our spiritual journeys?
Sixteen years ago, I enrolled in a Christian seminary to become a Presbyterian pastor. I had dreamed for many years about serving God and my community in this role. I never could have imagined that beginning seminary would catalyze my leaving Christianity for good.
Writing today as a Conservative rabbi, I feel deeply satisfied with how my spiritual journey has unfolded. I feel blessed to practice Judaism and belong to the Jewish people, even holding a place of leadership. However, for many years I still carried a sense of personal and professional failure around my experience in seminary. How could I have been so wrong about my own spirituality? I was not even in the right religion. By almost every standard of measure available to me at the time, I had failed.
This week’s Parsha, Eikev, teaches us how to integrate failure and shattered dreams into the stories we tell about ourselves. In Deuteronomy 10:1-2, Moses describes how God instructed him to carve two new tablets like those that Moses had broken.
The name Deuteronomy (from Greek) means “second law” and features Moses retelling the stories of the Israelites wandering in the desert. The original story of the Golden Calf occurs earlier in Exodus. After returning from Mount Sinai to learn that the Israelites had abandoned God in favor of an idol, Moses angrily shatters the tablets inscribed by God. He must carve new ones. In that story, the broken tablets serve as a potent symbol of Israel’s failure to follow God’s ways.
In Deuteronomy 10:2, the symbolic meaning of the broken tablets is more complex. God instructs Moses to put the tablets into the ark: “I will inscribe on the tablets the commandments that were on the first tablets that you smashed, and you shall deposit them in the ark.” Does this mean only the two new tablets, or does it also include the fragments of the old tablets? While the biblical text is unclear, traditions in the Talmud are not (see Berakhot 8b; Bava Batra 14b; Menachot 99a). The Talmud explains that the command is for Moses to place both the new, unbroken tablets and the pieces of the old, shattered tablets together into the ark. God still sees both pairs of tablets – shattered and whole – as holy.
This second account of the fate of the broken tablets shows us how to embrace our failures. Not only should we learn and grow from them, but we also may need to retell and reframe those same experiences. Before the incident of the Golden Calf, the Israelites may have thought that they needed to follow God’s commandments perfectly for God to love them and bless them. Instead, after their failure, the Israelites practice teshuvah (“repentance” or “return”) and learn that God’s fundamental nature is compassion.
Although not always obvious at the time, broken dreams open us to new perspectives and opportunities. Handled with humility, our failures can deepen our relationships with others.
In my own life, I have slowly learned to retell the story of my failing to become a pastor. With the help of dear friends and teachers, I have come to see that period of my life as one marked by integrity and courage. What I had initially experienced as a failure was, in fact, a crucial piece of a profound spiritual success – my becoming Jewish. I was able to integrate this old, shattered dream of mine into the broader story of my life.
What are we to do with the broken pieces of our lives? The Torah teaches us that we are to hold these shattered dreams close to our hearts and cherish them. They are a crucial part of what makes us who we are.
Views expressed in this column are the author’s own and not necessarily those of Elon University.