The small auditorium of the Beis Haknesses was already
filled with people waiting for the lecture to begin. The
subject publicized in the announcements was: The Liberating
Servitude. The apparent contradiction in terms whetted
people's curiosity and they were discussing the title among
themselves.
Slavery and deliverance were clashing concepts. One
person suggested that the speaker would surely elaborate on
the idea that, "There is no free person as one who is
occupied in Torah study," which he understood to mean that
only one who subjugates himself to Torah can be truly
considered free [from all kinds of other demands]. Several
other conjectures were raised before the speaker made his
appearance, whereupon the audience settled down to listen to
what he had to say.
Good evening -- he began. With your permission, I would like
to tell you about a personal event that is connected to the
topic of tonight's talk. Last week I attended a family
wedding out of town. I couldn't very well leave before
bircas hamozone and sheva brochos and another
round of dancing. This was followed, of course, by a set of
good-byes to assorted relatives. It was way past midnight
when I finally arrived at my home-town, where I hailed a
cab. When I get home, I thought to myself, the
only thing I'll be fit for is crawling into bed.
This wedding and the traveling back and forth topped a day
full of activity and I was exhausted. The cab sped through
the empty streets but even in my condition, I couldn't help
noticing the driver's frequent yawns. Towards the end of the
ride, he apologized and said, "I am exhausted."
I countered with a remark that was half question, half
statement, "You're probably going home yourself, after
this."
And he replied, "I can't. I haven't earned my `daily'
yet."
The cab stopped in front of my house. I paid the driver and
it sped away. I stood there for a moment, thinking about
what he had said. "I can't. I haven't earned my `daily'
yet." What, exactly, did that mean? His daily what? What was
actually stopping him from driving straight home? Who had
established that `daily' of his?
Suddenly, my mind shook off its cobwebs and it became clear
to me. The driver had determined the set amount that he was
meant to earn each day and until he arrived at that sum, he
would not stop roving the streets in search of customers. No
one was coercing him, to be sure. It was his own individual
willpower, his personal resolution, which propelled him and
sustained him to continue working until he achieved his
personal goal.
I was overcome with shame. I felt like an accused person
standing before a court, with the prosecuting attorney
roaring mercilessly at the defendant: "He, the driver, has
not yet earned his daily quota and therefore, he cannot go
home to sleep! His weariness and the late hour have no
impact on his decision to persevere! And what about you?
Have you discharged your obligations and commitments for the
day? Have you duly provided your soul with its daily
nourishment? Was it not you, yourself, who resolved not to
let a day go by without your daily daf? Were you not
the one who declared, more than once, that one mustn't
retire for the night without having devoted a quarter of an
hour to mussar study? And what about your resolve to
cover one chapter in Tanach? It was you who urged
your audiences to adopt this practice as an immutable
obligation! But you let yourself off this hook; you made
allowances for yourself and permitted circumstances to
provide excuses. That driver rides his donkey far better
than you!"
This was the accusation that I heard in my mind while I
stood on the sidewalk in front of my house. I can see that
my last sentence about the donkey is obtuse. I'm referring
to Moshiach, who is described by the novi as mounted
upon a donkey. This does not mean to convey a mode of
transportation.
A donkey signifies physicality, materialism. Every person
has the gross, material side to him which includes his
physical sensations, his bodily needs and his corporal
desires. He also has a spiritual side which is his sublime
aspect. The spiritual part is meant to "ride" over the
physical side, to dominate it and subordinate it to his
service. When a person eats something which he knows he
should abstain from, he personifies that hapless rider whose
donkey is actually mounted on him and directs him. When a
person coughs and feels pressure in his chest, and has just
read about the dangers of smoking, yet, nevertheless,
removes with his yellowed, nicotine- stained fingers still
another cigarette and lights it, he is serving the "donkey"
within him, the animal nature which pushes him to fulfill a
physical desire. He allows it to mount him, as it were, and
dominate his actions.
Moshiach, on the other hand, is the perfect, ultimate man,
the person who ideally dominates the materialism within him;
he rides upon his donkey. He is in full command of his
physicality. His mind and his free will determine what he
does; they see to it that the matter is subordinate to their
dictates. This is the significance and the implications of
being mounted upon one's donkey. We find Avrohom Ovinu
saddling his donkey and suppressing his natural feelings
towards his beloved son; he, too, completely rules over his
instinctive paternal emotions.
Don't think that I didn't have my defense plea against the
cab driver's mute accusation. In his case, his resolve was
not a question of subordinating his material side since the
reason for his "riding the donkey,' that is, overcoming his
natural physical fatigue, was primarily a material reason!
Money! If a person waives a frank- on-roll with mustard in
favor of pita-falafel with chili sauce, he is not
demonstrating any physical self restraint, any victory of
will power over matter. He is simply substituting one desire
for another. It is only when the spirit overrules the
matter, the donkey, when an abstract spiritual value
prevails over a physical, material mechanism, that we see
the characteristic predominance that typifies the ideal
person, the perfect man. His is self-control that dominates
the physical with an iron hand and this expresses the
liberation of man's spirit, the strength to overcome
physical demands and desires.
I am reminded of my rebbe in cheder who was
the epitome of self restraint. He never made allowances for
himself, never displayed self pity. Every written test he
gave was returned, marked, the following morning,
accompanied by incisive comments. On the day he married off
his daughter, he came in to class as usual, even in the
afternoon. For dozens of years, he gave a nightly class in
his home for older people which he never cancelled for any
reason whatsoever. Only many years later did it dawn on me
that he was the example par excellence of one who rode upon
his "donkey."
I would like to note that one who rides upon his donkey
must, of necessity, take into consideration the physical
limitations of that "donkey" and not overburden it beyond
its capacity. Similarly, one must be careful not to pamper
it, either. No irreversible damage happens to a healthy man
who discharges his daily quota late at night, due to
extenuating circumstances.
These were my thoughts after hearing the message heavenly
designed for my ears -- of the driver who had not fulfilled
his daily quota. I was reminded of a mussar talk on
the topic of a "servant of Hashem." The Mashgiach had said
that if a person established a regimen of Torah study, no
matter how small, which became iron- fast, immutable,
inviolate, under all circumstances, this was sufficient to
earn him the crowning accolade of "a servant of Hashem."
His might be merely a small crown, but it was a legitimate
coronet, nonetheless. The absolute subordination was what
earned him this praise.
Close to two a.m., in a state of mental alertness and with
uplifted spirits, I closed my last sefer, having
discharged all of my self- imposed study obligations. A new
refrain trilled within me: "Thank G-d, I have completed my
daily quota."
