The Secret of the Good Point: Living in a Rat Race

The air around us is poisoned. Poisoned with competitiveness, poisoned with aggression, poisoned with the venom of "Edom." The Jewish people have gone through several exiles. The last exile, the one we are in, is called the exile of Edom, as mentioned in the book Emek HaMelech: "...especially in this current exile which is the exile of Edom" (Gate 16, Chapter 37).

In the past, Edom was identified with Roman culture. Today, Edom is identified with Western culture, the dominant culture in the world, the achievement-oriented culture. Who is the biblical figure connected with Edom? Esau. "Esau is Edom" (Genesis 36:1).

What's so bad about Esau? Looking at the biblical stories about Jacob and Esau describes Esau as a wonderful child, a well-mannered son of his father, Isaac, who behaves exemplarily and brings joy to his father. Sounds perfect. And here's exactly the issue with Esau: everything looks perfect. From the outside.

But according to our Sages, Esau is "not so innocent," to put it mildly. The midrashim depict him as wicked, superficial, deceiving his father with imaginary halakhic questions, with no real connection between him and observing commandments or basic human morality.

Why? Why is there such a big gap between Esau's character in the Bible and his character in the midrashim? There may be several explanations for this, but this gap, this polarity between what is described in the plain text of the Bible and what we hear in the midrashim of our Sages is exactly the issue with Esau! If we ignore the Bible, we get the image of a murderer, rapist, and malicious criminal, and if we ignore the midrashim, we get the image of a good child, trying to please his father and do everything his parents want. What's the truth? I believe this is exactly what we are learning here. The truth is that he behaves outwardly in a certain way (as described in the Bible) while his inner truth is completely different (as described in the midrashim).

The Kotzker Rebbe magnified this gap: "Esau was not a coarse farmer wearing a colored shirt, walking barefoot and herding pigs. Esau had a long beard and sidelocks, was a community leader, and taught Torah during the third Shabbat meal. And nevertheless..."

According to the midrash, he asked his father halakhic questions: "How do you tithe straw? How do you tithe salt?" (The answer is that you don't tithe them, but it sounds sophisticated and advanced – as if he's meticulous about both minor and major matters). He cares about looking perfect externally, but the Talmud tells us that on the same day his grandfather Abraham died, he violated a betrothed maiden, committed murder, and committed other transgressions (Bava Batra 16b).

The gap between the biblical figure of Esau and what our Sages, midrashim, and Kabbalistic and Chassidic books tell about him is the gap between externality and heartless functional behavior versus true inner connection. It reminds me of the man whose wife feels he doesn't treat her well. "But I do everything properly!" he wonders. "My secretary sends her flowers on her birthday and I talk to her for a full 25 minutes every day!"

What's the connection between the biblical Esau and the world we live in? There's a concept called "world, year, soul." Everything manifests in the world, at a certain time in the year, and in the human soul. Esau's manifestation in the world is the culture of Edom, Western culture, the culture of power and external success. One could say that Esau is the spiritual archetype of Western culture.

The midrash tells us that Esau's head was buried in the Cave of Machpelah, and his body outside it. This fact symbolizes another layer of disconnection in Esau's character – the disconnection between intellectual knowledge and its control over his body and actions. We learn that having a sharp mind is not enough. If you don't use it for your benefit and the benefit of those around you − the knowledge will remain disconnected and unrelated to life.

A person in their corrected form subordinates the physical body to lofty spiritual goals, whereas the inversion of human form is the use of spiritual powers to achieve physical desires and wants. We can see this everywhere that gurus, community leaders, or people in positions of power use their influence to exploit others for personal gain. Esau used his powers to serve his desires and wants.

Rabbi Nathan explains: "But the wicked Esau's intention was not for this at all, because he did not want to submit to holiness at all" (Likutei Halachot Yoreh Deah, Laws of Chadash, Law 3). Esau behaved as if he wanted to sanctify himself and asked his father questions of the highest order, but in fact, he only wanted to deceive and use intellect and spirituality to serve his desires.

Our Sages say that Esau's name comes from the word "asuy" (made). Esau was born already prepared, ready-made. He doesn't need to learn anything, doesn't need to go through a process or a path. He's already perfect. How hard it is for us to meet the perfect person and feel our own deficiency. How hard it is to meet someone who, with a wave of a hand, succeeds in doing impressive and mighty things – and you? Stuck behind.

It's an illusion! Remember? Esau symbolizes a type that isn't authentic, who is not really as successful as he would like to project. In fact, he is miserable, but he puts many layers of makeup on his misery. Of compensation. Of exaggerated external behavior in the opposite direction.

He wants to succeed so badly that he tries to skip steps. He wants to "already be there" so badly – that he behaves exactly like that, as if he is already "there". As if he is a "tzaddik". And the culture we live in, the culture of Edom, Western culture, encourages and strengthens these beliefs − the competitiveness, the moving outside ourselves, the feeling that if we are not perfect – there's nothing to talk about at all.

Esau was completely desperate because his standards were external – and externally there will always be a breakdown, a crash, someone better. According to the Talmud in Bava Batra, when Esau heard that his grandfather, Abraham, had died, he said: What is this world worth if even the righteous Abraham dies? I can kill and do whatever I want – I'll die in the end anyway, there's no chance anyway.

This is life in a rat race – chasing perfection that cannot be achieved. It's an illusion. "The good life" is an illusion of externality, of perceptions sold to us. The neighbor's synthetic grass is greener. How do we escape the race?

Rabbi Nachman tells a story about two people, one wise and one simple, who were good friends in childhood until their paths separated. The wise man was always bitter and dissatisfied, while the simple man was always happy with his lot. The wise man always saw the deficiencies and was always preoccupied with what others would say: Is this profession respectable enough? If he marries in this city, will they appreciate him in his hometown? The simple man, on the other hand, was focused on his work, and when his wife asked him why others earn more than him, he answered her simply: "This is his deed and this is my deed". What I need to do in the world is not related to anyone else. I don't need to compare myself with anyone, so I'm not "losing the race against Esau," but I'm doing my own thing, focusing on my point. On my next step.

I remember the moment I realized I was leaving the high-tech world. Our company was at its peak. These were the days of the bubble, tech startups were skyrocketing. And me? I felt worn out. I found myself at a business conference in Southern California, an amazing hotel, a tropical swimming pool with trees on a small island in its center, astronomically high entry fees to the conference, and all the "who's who" of the high-tech industry. An orchestra played on a ship near the shore and fireworks were shot from it. The best minds of the high-tech industry met to try to close deals, raise funds, or find business partners. But I just wanted to escape. At that time, I wasn't yet connected to Judaism and Rabbi Nachman, but alongside my deep involvement in the business world, I was searching for the spiritual and the inner. I felt a misalignment between what I was doing in my life and the desire to do good in the world, to add something with inner or spiritual meaning. When I chose to establish the internet company, it was like a snowball that started rolling: I had no idea where it would go, but the snowball grew and grew until suddenly I saw that the connection between what I really want in life and the way I live − is quite tenuous.

I stood in front of the trees on the artificial island and thought to myself: What am I doing here at all?! What is my connection to everything happening here? What good will come from this, other than a little more money for our investors? I felt despair. I felt I was simply wasting my time. I wanted to do something good in the world and found myself locked in a mask of smiles for investors and in dialogues aimed at convincing business partners of things I didn't really believe in.

Suddenly it was clear to me. I'm not supposed to be here. I don't have to be here. I turned back towards the presentations and meetings hall and on the way met a Chabad follower we were working with at that time. He looked deep into my eyes and asked: "So that's it? You're leaving?" "What?" I asked in surprise, "How do you know?" He smiled and said he could see it in my eyes. The truth is, he told about himself, that after a long inner spiritual journey, he understood that he needed to enter "business" to support his family, but about me, he saw that I was heading out. It's okay, he reassured me, just make sure not to ruin everything for everyone and try not to cause too much damage with my departure.

I decided I wasn't going to ruin things for our investors or my partners – but I knew I was definitely on my way out, or perhaps more accurately: on my way in, to a place that suits me better, where I can connect more and utilize my skills. And I left.

This episode taught me again the level of gaps between what I do externally and what I really feel internally between myself and myself inside. Between the concept I was raised on in Western society, of external success, and the feeling of bitterness and inner emptiness that cannot be filled even with lavish cocktail parties in Los Angeles. Since then, I have encountered again and again the conflict of externality and internality, in places where I managed to connect, and in all those places where I fell asleep, forgot, and suddenly found myself disconnected from my inner desires and operating in an external and almost automatic way.

These misconceptions are embedded in us so deeply because we've breathed this air since childhood. This is our childhood version, the perception that has been ingrained in us, and it's hard to change such deep perceptions. Difficult, but possible! Even a mighty mountain can be dismantled, stone by stone. First, we need to understand that this is what operates within us, what is rooted in us. We need to understand that this feeling, that I am not good enough, is related to comparisons and the expectation of perfection and the inner race we are enslaved to.

I remember meeting a tailor in India. I met him on a street where the sidewalks were so hot that steam rose from them. He was quick, very quick, and managed to sew pants at an incredible pace. They might not have been perfect, but they were certainly cheap. He asked me about my occupation, and I explained that I work with computers. He stared at me in bewilderment. I tried to explain to him: computers, the devices they have in banks and... "What does it do?" he tried to understand. "It helps to do things faster... everything is faster with computers, you can accomplish more." "Faster than me?" he asked in amazement, "Do they sew faster than me?" "Probably not," I admitted.

Esau tries to sell us the perception that if we don't have everything – we have nothing, but Rabbi Nachman teaches us the opposite! If you find a little good within yourself, if you connect to a little good – you'll see that in the end, you'll have everything. Because every little bit of good conceals within it the connection to eternal goodness. If we look at others, it should not be for the sake of comparison, but to learn a good point from them. Not to copy them, not to compete with them – but to receive their "point," to learn from them, to enrich ourselves internally, and of course, to give them from our good point – if they wish.

Despair comes from trying to be perfect, to live the "beautiful life," while the truth is step by step, adding a little good. The remedy for Esau's despair, for trying to conform yourself to the apparent perfection of others, is to ignore the external comparison and find a little good within yourself.

Exercise:

The Rat Race: Try to think of three people you consider successful. What are their good qualities? Do you feel a gap between your position and theirs? How would you feel if you understood that "this is his deed and this is my deed"? How could your life look if you managed to accept your place, of course while receiving good points from them, but without the feeling of inner competition or missing out?

What I need to do in the world is not related to anyone else. I don't need to compare myself with anyone.

From the book "The Secret of the Good Point", by Ran Weber, writer, therapist, and workshop facilitator in the spirit of Chassidism. For contact: ranweber@gmail.com