Mishpatim: Among the Sins of My Youth
Famous men have said, “Youth is wasted on the young.” There are various opinions as to whom to attribute this wise saying, but it seems quite clear that it originated with the Irish playwright, George Bernard Shaw.
Even though I was born in the early years of the Holocaust and grew up in its aftermath, I was fortunate to have benefitted from safety and security. My family was intact, I was blessed with both sets of grandparents and one great-grandmother, and I had an excellent Jewish and secular education.
My Jewish education was enriched by several of my rabbinic teachers, all of whom survived the Holocaust and each of whom had their own stories to tell. They certainly had a lot of Torah to impart to us, having all been products of the famed Lithuanian yeshivot. Some had even been children or grandchildren of famed Talmudic scholars and spiritual guides.
However, while my classmates and I tried our best to relate to these gentlemen, we found it difficult to do so. We followed their curriculum, which was essentially limited to Talmud study, but our American upbringing created a barrier between us, so that we could not really appreciate what they had to teach us.
Only as we entered adulthood did it dawn on us that we had missed a golden opportunity by dismissing or ignoring the precious life-lessons and perspectives upon authentic traditional Judaism that they possessed and were eager to pass on to us.
Indeed, youth proved to be wasted on the young. We were simply too young to accept the treasures we had missed.
One of these teachers was a man named Rabbi Simcha Zissel Levovitz, of blessed memory. Long after we had lost touch with each other, I discovered that he was the son of the very well-known Reb Yerucham Levovitz, the mashgiach ruchani or spiritual guide of the Mirrer Yeshiva where he served for close to forty years before his death just prior to the Holocaust. I do not recall his mentioning his great father during the year that I was among his seventh-grade students.
Much more recently, but still some time ago, I learned that Rav Simcha Zissel had collected and edited and eventually published a collection of his father’s many lectures. I immediately recognized the possibility of rectifying the missed opportunity that I had “wasted” in my youth.
At this point in my life, I keep a volume or two of this collection with me wherever I travel. It is entitled Sefer Daas Chochmah u’Mussar, “Book of Knowledge, Wisdom, and Ethics,” and it contains material which is relevant to our lives to this very day.
One of these lectures connects us in a remarkably timely fashion. For one thing, it was delivered on the Fast of Esther, the 13th of Adar, 1935. This Shabbat, we anticipate the month of Adar that is fast approaching—together with Purim and the Fast of Esther which precedes it.
More striking is the fact that this lecture deals with the problem of antisemitism, which has become frighteningly prevalent and evermore threatening in our current difficult times.
The Book of Esther, which we read twice on this happy holiday, is a study in antisemitism. The villain Haman strives to eradicate the Jewish people—man, woman, and child. His hateful propaganda convinces the King, the royal court, the local populace, and eventually the entire kingdom which spans the vast area from India to Ethiopia. Shades of October 7, 2023, and the ensuing world-wide Jew hatred from which we suffer today.
Reb Yerucham bases much of his thesis about the origins of antisemitism upon the question raised by our Sages in Tractate Megillah 12a: “Why did the people of Israel deserve to face utter extinction? Because they joined and enjoyed the King’s feast!” The Jewish people believed that the best way to alleviate the hatred they were experiencing would be to draw close to, and to establish friendly relationships with, their oppressors. They sought to mitigate antisemitism by merging with the enemy politically and culturally.
“This was a mistake,” argues Reb Yerucham. “And,” continues Reb Yerucham, “it was the mistake of our own time [remember that he spoke these words in 1935] when we sought political acceptance from our host countries, particularly Germany, which led to assimilation, the diminishment of Jewish self-identification, and eventually the rise of Hitlerism” (and we can now add, the Holocaust!).
Besides the similarities to the Purim story, and besides the resemblance to aspects of the current rise of antisemitism, Reb Yerucham’s argument also refers to two verses in this week’s Torah portion, Mishpatim (Exodus 21:1-24:18).
He quotes and explicates these verses (Exodus 23:32-33); I translate loosely: “Do not join in a covenant with them, nor with their gods. Do not permit them to dwell in your land lest they mislead you and provoke you to sin against Me, for they will eventually tempt you to worship their gods. They will entrap you!”
Reb Yerucham describes the effect that affiliation with the German nation and its culture had upon German Jewry. It was drastic assimilation, mass conversion to Christianity, and total rejection of Jewish identity by many Jews. He observed this decay personally, and in his final years became an eyewitness to the extent to which the yearning for welcome to German society eroded and became transformed into the most vicious antisemitism ever known to mankind.
How I would have appreciated hearing such teachings from my seventh-grade teacher, the son of Reb Yerucham. Truth to say, he may very well have delivered these words to our class, but we were deaf to them. After all, youth is wasted upon the young. I will grant you that the antisemitism of our current time may be fundamentally different from the antisemitism that Reb Yerucham knew and predicted. But one aspect of his thesis remains relevant, and that is this: The focus of our reaction to antisemitism is not to be found in political activity, publicity in the media, or searching for allies among non-Jewish entities. It does not lie upon supposedly supportive governments and politicians, however we may trust and put our hopes in their promises.
It resides instead in the deepening of our Jewish identity, in our knowledge and fidelity to Torah and mitzvot, and above all with pride in our Jewishness, and expressing this pride in every arena of discourse.
I close with my own response to the question, “Does George Bernard Shaw’s famous quote about wasted youth have any basis in Torah?” To this, I reply, “Yes!” It is encapsulated in these excerpts from Tehilim, psalm 25:
“O Lord… be not mindful of my youthful sins and transgressions; in keeping with Your faithfulness, consider what is in my favor… He guides the lowly in the right path, and teaches the lowly His way… See how numerous my enemies are, and how unjustly they hate me… May integrity and uprightness watch over me, for I look to You. O God, redeem Israel from all its distress.”