July 25, 2024
Also available on Times of Israel blog.
Life often presents us with moments that test our faith and resolve. Consider the story of Fred, who was walking near the Grand Canyon. He veered from the path and wasn’t paying attention. The next thing he knew, he fell off the edge of a cliff. His arms flailed as he fell, but he managed to hold on to a branch. He started screaming, “Is anyone up there? … Help!!” Finally, he heard a voice from the top of the cliff. “Fred! Is that you, Fred?” “Yes, it is me. Who’s there?” “Fred, it’s me, G-d. I’m here to help you.” “Thank G-d you are here! Please help me!” “OK, Fred. I will help. You must do exactly what I say.” “No problem. Just tell me what to do.” “OK. The first thing you must do is let go of the branch.” Fred thought for a moment and then called out, “Is there anyone else up there?”
In many ways, we are like Fred when we grapple with our dilemmas between work and faith. Just as Fred clung to the branch for security, our careers often serve as our safety net. However, just as Fred faced the terrifying prospect of letting go, we too face moments when the demands of work conflict with our spiritual practices. How can we find a balance between the two?
Judaism offers profound wisdom on integrating religious principles with secular professions, emphasizing the benefits of translating Torah teachings into everyday life. I vividly remember representing a seller in a deal during November. Negotiations in the fall were always challenging, particularly as Shabbat began early on Friday. As deal lawyers, we were expected to be available around the clock—24/7, not 24/6. This expectation made being offline for any reason a problem.
The negotiations ran smoothly until the other side had some demands that my client viewed as extreme. We went back and forth with proposals and counter-proposals. We were still negotiating as Shabbat drew closer. Shabbat started for me at 4:30 p.m. EST (which was only 1:30 p.m. for the buyer’s lawyers). At 4:00 p.m., I emailed the other side with another counter-proposal. I then explained that because of Shabbat, I was going offline and would be unavailable by phone or email until Saturday night, when we could pick up the negotiations.
Right after Shabbat ended, I turned on my phone and computer and checked messages. The buyer’s lawyer left multiple messages on my work phone, home phone, work email, and personal email. The messages went like this:
Message 1: “If your client cannot agree to X, would they agree to Y?”
Message 2: “OK. So, if your client won’t agree to Y, will they agree to Z?”
That is how the messages went, one after the other. It became clear that the lawyers interpreted my non-response as an adverse reaction to their latest proposal. They were negotiating against themselves with each proposal to gain my consent.
Their last message expressed a position with which my client could agree. So, I called them immediately and agreed to those terms.
This story teaches us valuable lessons from both sides of the interaction. The buyer’s lawyers, negotiating against themselves due to my silence, illustrate how we often negotiate against ourselves in matters of faith. We might try to bargain with G-d, convincing ourselves that Shabbat can wait until after the deal closes, promising to observe it the following week. But when the next deal comes, will Shabbat be pushed aside again?
When we negotiate against ourselves in matters of faith, we’re negotiating against G-d—a battle we will never win. If we ask G-d for help, we must trust that He has already guided us through the wisdom of the Torah.
Ultimately, Fred’s dilemma of holding on to the branch resonates deeply with our struggles to balance work commitments with our spiritual values. As we navigate these challenges, the lesson lies in knowing when to let go and actively seeking harmony between our professional lives and our faith. Had Fred been willing to trust G-d and let go of the branch, he could have grabbed another tree—the tree of life. As Proverbs teaches us, the Torah is indeed a tree of life—for those who choose to hold on to it, whether in calm or trying times.
The best outcomes arise when we release our grip on the precarious branches of our worries, placing our trust instead in the enduring strength and guidance of our values and faith. In moments of doubt, remember that letting go of the branch may allow you to hold on to something far more sustaining—the wisdom and guidance of the Torah.
