Man Plans and God Also Plans

 Parshat Ki Sisa

by Rabbi Avi Billet

Many years ago I read an essay entitled “Welcome to Holland” written by Emily Perl Kingsley to try to explain what life as a parent to a child with a disability is like – in her case, I believe it was Downs Syndrome. She compares it to intending to go on a trip to Italy, which ends with the flight attendant welcoming you to Holland.  Apparently there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay. Her point being it’s a journey – not what you expected – but Holland has its fine points as well. It's not a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It's different! It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts. 

 But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss. But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland. 

In looking for it, I found another essay (thank you “Google!”) written by a woman named Zita Dulock who hates “Welcome to Holland,” who essentially argues that actually everyone ends up in Italy. Because parenthood (= Italy) is what everyone who has a child signed up for. “But we're all having very different vacations, because we're very different people, raising very different children. Is my experience what I thought it would be? Nope- it sure isn't.” 

“But neither is life with my neurotypical daughter. And neither is life with my husband. And neither is my life, in and of itself.” 

 Her version of the essay is more like this: Welcome to Italy! Despite all your prep and plans, you can’t find your hotel, you realize you needed to know Italian much better, you lost your luggage, it rained the whole time. Some found an incredible bed and breakfast, some discovered Italy through museums rather than sites. Some spent the whole time not leaving their hotel. “The truth is, this trip is nothing like what you planned it to be...even if everything goes exactly as planned! Because you can't predict how something will feel. You can't predict how something will smell. You can't predict what will captivate you, or terrify you. All you can do learn as much as you can, before you leave and when you land, and focus on being adaptable and flexible. “Whether or not you enjoy the trip is entirely up to you.” 

 That, of course, is about disabilities. But I think there is wisdom in it which can apply to the case of any kind of unexpected change. 

 We are all familiar with the expression – whether in English or Yiddish – Man Plans and God Laughs. It could also be that man doesn’t plan and God is left to pick up the pieces. 

 Consider our parsha – It begins right where the Torah left off last week, with instructions about the Mishkan. Now we hear about collecting funds, in the form of the ½ Shekel, about the Kiyor (washbasin), and about the instructions for how to make the Ketoret. We are told that Betzalel will oversee the makings of all of the Mishkan. We are given a fairly strict warning about the importance of Shabbos observance – one of the ways we imply the rules of Shabbos from the methods of building the Mishkan. And then the narrative returns. All exciting. וַיִּתֵּ֣ן אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֗ה כְּכַלֹּתוֹ֙ לְדַבֵּ֤ר אִתּוֹ֙ בְּהַ֣ר סִינַ֔י שְׁנֵ֖י לֻחֹ֣ת הָעֵדֻ֑ת לֻחֹ֣ת אֶ֔בֶן כְּתֻבִ֖ים בְּאֶצְבַּ֥ע אֱלֹהִֽים: This should be followed by Moshe’s glorious return from his incredible chavrusa with the Almighty. Presumably, with Tablets in hand, Moshe is going to come down and hold several kumzitzes around the fire, with hundreds or thousands of people, to convey to them as best he can what took place on the top of the mountain. 

 But it was not to be. Because sometimes man doesn’t plan, and man’s choices, when flying, proverbially, by the seat of his pants, certainly don’t turn out the way anyone thought they would. 

 In the scheme of the story of the Jewish people, the Golden Calf was a devastating setback. But in the scheme of the story of the Jewish people, Moshe Rabbenu became a legend like no other, when he a. essentially argued to God “You’re destroying this people over my dead body,” and b. had the closest encounter with God of seeing וראית את אחרי ופני לא יראו, the result of which puts Moshe outside of the camp, turning his own private tent into an early version of the אהל מועד and also causes his face to shine in a manner that was beyond the natural order. 

 There is no one reading this who hasn’t had an Italy turned Holland life, or an Italy experience that didn’t quite turn out as it was meant to be. My father told me a couple of years ago, “I never expected to retire after 40 years in the rabbinate during a pandemic.” 

 How many people hoped to have one kind of career and ended up somewhere else. How many people had dreams of one kind of family, and things looked differently in the end? How many people have suffered losses of loved ones too young, too early, before we had the chance to say all we should have said? How many people have family members with whom there is a fallout and we’re not on speaking terms, in a manner which seems irreparable, for years, if not decades? Is retirement always what people had hoped for? 

 There is a prominent rabbi in the New York area who has an autistic son who is now an adult. Throughout the young man’s life, the father is the one who takes care of him, particularly when the young man needs to relieve himself. Knowing that he alone can care for his son, when he gets the call from home to come, he views it as a certain calling in life comparable to being the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur. (Story told by Rabbi Aryeh Lebowitz) 

This story of reminiscent of a story told by Viktor Frankl in his masterpiece, “Man’s Search for Meaning.” He describes how meaning in life comes from responsibleness – in life having a purpose. But that purpose can ultimately come from one of three spaces: 

By doing a deed 

By experiencing a value 

By suffering 

The first – doing a deed which has meaning is obvious. The second can come from experiencing something – such as a work of nature or culture, or by experiencing someone, the key example being through loving someone. By that he doesn’t refer simply to a physical act, but to having a deep relationship with someone else. Regarding the third – suffering – he brings two examples of people who suffer, who have found meaning through their suffering. 

 The first is a man in deep mourning over the loss of his wife. Dr. Frankl chose the route of asking a question rather than telling the man what he should feel. “Suppose you had died first and your wife would have had to survive that loss.” The gentleman responded that it would have been unbearable for her. Dr. Frankl then told him “Such a suffering has been spared her. You have spared her this suffering. But now you have to pay for it by surviving and mourning her.” And Frankl reflects upon that case “Suffering ceases to be suffering in some way at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice.” He notes this wasn’t therapy, but he was able to change the person’s attitude about his own suffering, giving it meaning. 

 He gave another example of a woman with a disabled son who needed to change her focus into seeing that her mission in life was to care for her son, that she alone was capable of doing like no other caregiver. 

 I believe that Moshe Rabbenu found meaning in the suffering that the people brought upon themselves. One of the more profound passages we find in Moshe’s life comes in Parshas B’haaloscha.

 12Did I conceive this entire people? Did I give birth to them, that You say to me, 'Carry them in your bosom as the nurse carries the suckling,' to the Land You promised their forefathers? 13Where can I get meat to give all these people? For they are crying on me, saying, 'Give us meat to eat.' 14Alone I cannot carry this entire people for it is too hard for me. 15If this is the way You treat me, please kill me if I have found favor in Your eyes, so that I not see my misfortune."

 יבהֶאָֽנֹכִ֣י הָרִ֗יתִי אֵ֚ת כָּל־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֔ה אִם־אָֽנֹכִ֖י יְלִדְתִּ֑יהוּ כִּֽי־תֹאמַ֨ר אֵלַ֜י שָׂאֵ֣הוּ בְחֵיקֶ֗ךָ כַּֽאֲשֶׁ֨ר יִשָּׂ֤א הָֽאֹמֵן֙ אֶת־הַיֹּנֵ֔ק עַ֚ל הָֽאֲדָמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר נִשְׁבַּ֖עְתָּ לַֽאֲבֹתָֽיו: יגמֵאַ֤יִן לִי֙ בָּשָׂ֔ר לָתֵ֖ת לְכָל־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֑ה כִּֽי־יִבְכּ֤וּ עָלַי֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר תְּנָה־לָּ֥נוּ בָשָׂ֖ר וְנֹאכֵֽלָה: ידלֹֽא־אוּכַ֤ל אָֽנֹכִי֙ לְבַדִּ֔י לָשֵׂ֖את אֶת־כָּל־הָעָ֣ם הַזֶּ֑ה כִּ֥י כָבֵ֖ד מִמֶּֽנִּי: טווְאִם־כָּ֣כָה | אַתְּ־עֹ֣שֶׂה לִּ֗י הָרְגֵ֤נִי נָא֙ הָרֹ֔ג אִם־מָצָ֥אתִי חֵ֖ן בְּעֵינֶי֑ךָ וְאַל־אֶרְאֶ֖ה בְּרָֽעָתִֽי: 

 Because God essentially tells him, yes you can. Yes you will. Not only that, but you will lead these people, your people, to the border of the Promised Land. 

Didn’t Moshe pine for the Promised Land? Wasn’t that a life goal that he had? Yes. But whether Moshe ended up in Holland, or Moshe ended up having an experience he never could have imagined, his life was, in a sense, destined to be what it ended up being. Did he suffer? Yes. Was his life peaches and cream? No. 

But he holds the esteem to which we regard him because through every change of plans thrown upon him by this stiff necked people, and despite any misgivings he may have expressed, he stuck with his role to the very end, thereby teaching us that life is a gift. 

We MUST roll with the punches. And we must, whenever we can, take steps either to get to where we want to be, or find a way to view the turns life has taken, as Dr. Frankl aimed to help the people mentioned earlier, in a manner that makes life’s turns meaningful. We could do good things, experience great values, or turn our suffering into a purpose-filled life. 

 Many people have turned their suffering into an opportunity to do good for others – whether it is tzedakah, or donating books, or sponsoring classes – those who use the impetus of their suffering to accomplish great things are, in effect, doing exactly what Viktor Frankl said to do. 

May we be blessed to find, maintain or create meaningful experiences, so that even when handed a raw hand or a bad deck, we can emerge with purpose and a handle on where we can take that which life has given us and turn it into something which gives us a direction that raises our spirits. Hopefully for a long time.