"A Half Truth is a Whole Lie"

I don't remember who used to say that exactly, but I remember hearing it when I was very young, and that it resonated deeply in my being. For those who remember me as a little kid - maybe it's because I was such a great liar? I convinced my whole kindergarten class that we had adopted a giraffe, I made my friends swear that they would never tell a soul the truth about me: that I turned into a mermaid when my feet touched water. I even had my friend's mother believing that my mom tied a rope to the back of our mini-van and allowed me to roller-blade, holding on, while she drove around the neighborhood (sorry Mom).

The point is, I definitely grappled with the concept of honesty, and knew even then, that lying was a web that would surely trap me. Soon enough, the lies would always come down to an awkward and somewhat humiliating confrontation, and by age eight or nine, I think I saw it wasn't worth the trouble. As adults, for the majority of us that are no longer tempted by the thrill of lying, we face a different but related challenge: inner-honesty. If you're reading this Matisyahu (yeah right, I wish), this one's for you...

With the light of the Chanukah candles illuminating the darkest places, I am trying to find a deeper sense of consistency within myself. Sometimes I find that I say something, it just slips out almost, and immediately afterwards I know it wasn't real. Exactly. Not a lie, but not a truth. I'll give you an example:

Person 1: "I really related to that character. I feel like that all the time, you know?"
Me: "Yeah totally, who doesn't?"
Me to myself: "You don't feel like that! Why did you say that?"

I of course need to figure out why in the world I said what I said. After lots of thinking and discussing (mostly with my resident therapist, Mr. Eli Veffer), I've pinpointed something about myself that isn't bad, but definitely needs to be honed in order to be good: it makes me feel good to make other people feel good. When 'Person 1' said she related to the character in the movie she was looking for validation. She told me something that made her vulnerable, and before I could even process my inner-truth, I validated her. But ironically, by validating her, I invalidated myself. After all, if you can't SAY WHAT YOU MEAN, then you aren't really having a conversation at all , you're just telling people what they want to hear. And that's a recipe for a really lame conversation, and also really lame friendships.

Let's talk about Matisyahu and his disappearing beard act. I'm not gonna lie. It made me sad to see his shaven face. He looked naked, and stripped of his pride. His beard made him more than a Jewish guy who made it big in entertainment. His beard made him a symbol of being completely counter-cultural for G-d, even while being a superstar. That big, burly beard meant that wearing a skirt when skinny jeans are in, just isn't that big of a deal. Come on, you can wear a measly little kippah to the basketball game if Matisyahu can have a BEARD! His beard transcended him. And that's why he had to shave it. I think... just run with me. When something you are doing or wearing or screaming from the rooftops becomes bigger than YOU, you risk losing yourself. I think Matisyahu knew how much inspiration he was giving to the world, so he forgot to stop and ask himself if that beard was really "what he meant" anymore. And then one day, he knew, that honestly, it wasn't. I think it's much harder and braver to change and disappoint the people that are closest to you, then it is to say and do what everyone wants from you.

This is a paradox in Judaism for me. On the one hand, I want to be sure that my commitment to Torah is from my heart and soul. I don't want to be driven by the expectations of others. Moving to Efrat has definitely given me the space and freedom to evaluate all of my religious decisions and make sure that I know WHY I'm living my life a certain way. The wide spectrum of observance here takes the pressure out of being religious. But on the other hand, are the communal expectations built into Judaism for a reason? When I'm feeling uninspired by halacha, when I'm going through a natural low in the ups and downs of religious life, is my community supposed to be there to catch me? The paradox is that inner-truth means trying to be YOURSELF, but sometimes we need the expectations of others to guide us.

My goal is honesty, but I don't want to walk around being inappropriate or hurtful even if it's truthful. I need to work on giving myself a moment to reflect before I respond, and find a way to validate others without losing myself in their needs. As a Jew, I'm not quite sure how I can find the perfect balance between communal expectations, and my own, private relationship with Hashem. From speaking to those older and wiser than myself, I believe that it's a line all Jews who are honest with themselves straddle. And sometimes we stumble. But I feel satisfied with the realization that this line exists.

It is Matisyahu's new clean-shaven face that I now find inspiring. He did the honest thing. The hard thing. And that is something to be proud of.
Chanukah Sameach!
AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!