The Gift of New Beginnings
The start of a new zman stirs up all sorts of fresh desires and she’ifos—aspirations—within us. There is something profoundly blessed about how time is divided; it gives us the opportunity to conclude and begin anew, to demarcate the past and open a new present and future—one that is even better and more elevated. All of Creation rests on this kind of renewal: the day draws to a close and a new one dawns, the week ends and another begins; likewise the month, and the year—with all its promise of: “May the new year begin with its blessings.”
These new beginnings give us a fresh opportunity for a better future, and we need to cherish that renewal for the new beginning it truly offers. But precisely because it’s such a precious opportunity, we often pile all our she’ifos and dreams onto the beginning of a new zman, without pausing to reflect deeply on whether this is really the right she’ifah for us—or if it’s just some imaginary, unrealistic fancy.
When She’ifos Fall Short
Many times, we tell ourselves: This time I will succeed in fulfilling my she’ifos—I’ll finish the masechta, I’ll listen attentively and write down summaries in every shiur, I’ll be scrupulous about my zmanim, and so much more. But too often, after a while, we’re left confused, disappointed, and sometimes even shattered: we didn’t hit the mark we’d set, our she’ifah went unfulfilled.
When we step back and look at it, we see that a person’s she’ifos can originate from several different places. Sometimes it’s something superficial, like social pressure, tales of gedolei olam, or just plain misguided imagination. No wonder, then, that we fall short—those she’ifos have no real connection to our strengths or the realities of our lives.
But there’s a loftier source for she’ifos: the drive to change, to bring real transformation into one’s life. This is a desirable and blessed impulse, yet even the she’ifos and goals that flow from it so often fail to deliver the change we crave. And this is what we need to wrestle with: Why? What stands in the way of a she’ifah born from such a high and vital desire; what is keeping it from being realized and fulfilled?
The Gra’s Insight: Goals Without Growth
We can find an answer in the words of Mishlei (17:24): את פני מבין חכמה ועיני כסיל בקצה ארץ
“The face of the person of understanding is toward wisdom, but the eyes of the fool are at the ends of the earth.”
The Gra explains that the kesil—the fool—is the one who seeks to finish the whole masechta, or fulfill the mitzvah to the letter and actually does it, yet he remains a kesil nonetheless. How can this be? Hasn’t he achieved exactly what he set out for—his she’ifah to finish the masechta and fulfill the mitzvah, so why is he still called a “kesil“?
It becomes clear, then, that when someone yearns to shake up his life, all those goals he’s mapped out won’t be effective on their own. He can meet every one of them with pride, and still be the same kesil, utterly unchanged. Those goals by themselves do not reshape a person—only when “the face of the person of understanding is toward wisdom,” only through ongoing immersion in the very area he wants to transform can real change take hold and wisdom grow.
Engagement, Not Achievement
Good she’ifos come from the motivation to change, but if their expression is limited to setting goals, such as finishing a masechta or fulfilling a mitzvah, they won’t spark transformation. One could meet every goal and still end up a kesil through and through, because genuine change springs only from that forward-facing gaze toward wisdom: constant, repeated engagement with the issue he wishes to change.
We see this in the Ramchal’s introduction to Mesilas Yesharim, where he notes that even
though the reader knows what is written inside, the real benefit comes only “through reviewing it and being consistent in it.” In other words, just knowing the material won’t bring about the benefit; there is little value in finishing the sefer from cover to cover. It’s the ongoing engagement and reflection—the circling back time and again to those same familiar, well-known issues where he wishes to change—that actually bears fruit.
Think of how it works at home with your family. When you walk through the door and reconnect with them, you’re not just replaying yesterday’s script; every encounter is a fresh, renewed engagement with the family. The same goes for the areas of life we want to transform: we cannot merely aspire to fulfill some goal. We have to keep re-engaging with that same terrain, over and over, and that’s the only path to true change.
That engagement, of course, comes with its share of ups and downs. Once we grasp that real change emerges from this kind of immersion—not from ticking off goals—we will no longer be disheartened when we miss a target. After all, transformation is forged by engagement in that up-and-down process, whereas meeting goals alone can still leave a person an absolute kesil.