After several weeks of intense fighting in Israel and Tisha B’Av fast approaching celebrations will be be more subdued this year. In a sense it’s kind of fitting given how eventful this past year has been for me personally. As I announced last March, I left my position as Rabbi at the Stanton Street Shul to make aliyah.
While friends have been very encouraging, supportive, and congratulatory regarding this significant life change, I’m not sure how many people realize that this past year for me, in many respects, was marked by some pretty significant failures. Some of these are public knowledge; I got priced out of my neighborhood, and other professional and academic pursuits did not end in success. Other failures have been more private (at least for the time being) though to be sure no less spectacular.
If there’s a difference in myself at 37 is that I no longer equate failure in specific endeavors with failure in life, nor must failure necessitate feelings of regret. At some point this past year, I realized that virtually all the times I’ve set out to do something specific, I’ve either failed or otherwise come up short. In contrast, the most amazing experiences I’ve had were more often the result of serendipity/hashgacha or otherwise things I never would have imagined, let alone intended. This by no means demonstrates that my efforts were worthless, only that work with one goal in mind frequently opened up opportunities I had never considered.
Thus as I turn 37 I am proudly flying my flag of failure, the “דגל הבל” if you will. . And as I venture off into the great unknown of Israel, I look forward to the many varieties of new failures I have yet to experience, having full faith that in the end, וַיִּהְיוּ כַּטּוֹב, the ultimate results, while unintended, will be just as good.