The Midrash teaches that the idea of Teshuva predates the universe, and that Teshuva does not wipe the slate entirely clean, but a small root of the transgression remain with the individual.

Teshuva is the flipside of the same coin as being tested. Hashem wants us to pass tests, but tests can be failed. In that case, there is Teshuva. Genuine Teshuva enables someone to learn from their mistakes, and move on.

When learning to ride a bicycle and you lose your balance; you fall and hurt yourself. You need to learn how to keep your balance – focussing on the fall doesn’t teach anything. After hard work, you learn to keep your balance, and you now know how to ride a bicycle.

This is why Teshuva cannot mean wiping the slate clean – a fresh start necessarily means no history, and therefore nothing learned from mistakes made. This is also why Teshuva predates the creation of the universe; Hashem did not create a static world, He created a world that is meant to grow. Teshuva enables people to move on from their mistakes.

When a person does Teshuva, their sins and transgressions can be measured differently based on their motivation. If motivated by fear, they are downgraded to accidents and oversights; if motivated by love, they become merits. This should seem perplexing, but should now be perfectly logical – a person adapts their past mistakes and uses them to become a better person.

This explains why a year is called שנה – similar to the words שני and שנוי – “secondary” and “change” subjectively. These are not mutually exclusive terms. It is from the past, the foundations one lays, that anything later comes. A fresh start wouldn’t be secondary, and nor would a repetition. It only through change, growth, that one can move on. This is ראש השנה – and also why we temporarily act more stringently during the Aseres Yemei Teshuva. From reliable foundations comes a strong building.

Perhaps this is why we read about the Akeida on Rosh Hashana. Without any of this information, it is obviously a monumentally important story, a watershed moment in Jewish history. It cemented Avraham into Avraham Avinu. But perhaps there is something more.

The story is not one where he willingly goes along with Hashem’s instruction; he begrudgingly conceded to Hashem. His life was predicated in kindness and being good; this is why Hashem displayed an interest in him. Yet here he was was, being asked to commit the ultimate of selfishness and cruelty, stifling out someone else’s very existence. It simply made no sense, and he struggled to come to terms with what he was told to do.

The Nesivos Shalom points out that Torah subtly references the turmoil he faced. We are told that as Avraham approached the area, וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת-עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק – Avraham lifted his eyes, and saw הַמָּקוֹם from a distance. (22:4)

Classically, this means that he literally “saw the place”. But הַמָּקוֹם is also a name of Hashem – He is “The Place”, He is everywhere, the Omnipresent. As we say on Pesach; ברוך המקום ברוך הוא.

In this context, וַיִּשָּׂא אַבְרָהָם אֶת-עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק means that Avraham evaluated the situation, and felt a distance between himself and Hashem. It tore him apart – he’d spent his whole life fighting idol worship and sacrifice, and yet here he was, about to sacrifice his son, throwing away his entire future, and Hashem had not even demanded it. וַיַּרְא אֶת-הַמָּקוֹם–מֵרָחֹק – Avraham looked around, and felt a distance between himself and Hashem.

When it comes to follow through, we are told how וַיִּשְׁלַח אַבְרָהָם אֶת-יָדוֹ, וַיִּקַּח אֶת-הַמַּאֲכֶלֶת – Avraham sent his hand, and picked up the knife.
The Torah disembodied the action from the actor – his hand was not doing what he wanted it to – he didn’t want to do it at all!

And in the end, he was vindicated. He was right the whole time! Every fibre of his being told him what he was doing was wrong, and he was proven right.

This is the comparison to Teshuva; the vindication of a struggle. It’s hard, and we don’t understand everything, but at the end of the tunnel, it all fits into place.

In the memory and zchus of the members of the Saba family who died last week

The following is one I came up with last week, and I didn’t think it was too great, but some people told me to wrote it anyway. Since the Parsha is still about Moshe and Egypt I hope it won’t matter that it is a week late.

אמר לו הקב”ה חבל על דאבדין ולא משתכחין הרי כמה פעמים נגליתי על אברהם יצחק ויעקב באל שדי ולא הרהרו על מדותי ולא אמרו לי מה שמך אמרתי לאברהם (בראשית יג) קום התהלך בארץ לארכה ולרחבה כי לך אתננה בקש מקום לקבור את שרה ולא מצא עד שקנה בד’ מאות שקל כסף ולא הרהר על מדותי אמרתי ליצחק (בראשית כו) גור בארץ הזאת ואהיה עמך ואברכך בקשו עבדיו מים לשתות ולא מצאו עד שעשו מריבה שנאמר (בראשית כו) ויריבו רועי גרר עם רועי יצחק לאמר לנו המים ולא הרהר אחר מדותי אמרתי ליעקב (בראשית כח) הארץ אשר אתה שוכב עליה לך אתננה ביקש מקום לנטוע אהלו ולא מצא עד שקנה במאה קשיטה ולא הרהר אחר מדותי ולא אמרו לי מה שמך (Sanhedrin 111a)

There is a Gemara in Sanhedrin (brought above if you are that way inclined), that explains that G-d got angry when Moshe asked His name, as the Patriarchs had diffculties, yet did not question G-d. Rashi in 6:9 quotes it. When Abraham sought to bury Sarah, he could not bury her until he bought a plot for a very high price from Efron. Similarly, with Isaac, he sought to use wells his own father had dug and was not allowed to by the local shepherds. And also with Jacob, “And he bought the part of the field where he had pitched his tent from the sons of Hamor” (Gen. 33:19).

These are the examples used of Moshe’s ancestors not questioning the nature of G-d. But these would seem to be bad examples. If you want to tell me about faith, tell me about the Akeida, he binding of Isaac! Abraham was promised children through Isaac yet was told to murder him. Isaac was told absolutely nothing by G-d, yet did not question anyone and told his father to bind his hands so he would not struggle. Tell Moshe how Jacob reacted to the incidents with Joseph! These are all exceptionally mundane stories, that all happen to be about money and land (that was theoretically theirs already since it had been promised?).

There was a great tragedy last week in Mexico referenced above, and it was very distressing and I was very upset about it for various reasons. I was quite surprised when I stumbled across an excerpt from the Sefer Hachinuch – “A man should know and take to heart that all that happens to him from good to bad is intended to happen to him from Hashem, and from the hand of man…nothing will happen except His will” (Hilchos Nekama).

I was amazed that I found something so relevant to what I needed to hear at that moment, and when I thought of the original question, why bother to talk about the mundane. The Chinuch quote answers it perfectly. It’s relatively easy to accept that all things come from G-d. But when the bad happens to involve another persons free will and choice to cause harm, it is suddenly not the hand of G-d any more, it becomes a problem and someone has wronged you.

The Akeida tells us how Abraham had faith, but that is all! G-d spoke to him, there was nothing to question! But when he gets home having passed his test, his wife is dead. And when he attempts to bury her, he is heckled by Efron. Isaac is thirsty, and can’t use wells his own father dug. Yakov needs to pay to pitch a tent.

It is with these examples that we see how much faith they really had. When we know someone is watching, or that we are being tested, we put on the best display of our efforts as possible. But these are inaccurate. The true gauge of faith is in the mundane, where we think we are alone.