August 10, 2026|כ"ז אב ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Seeing What Matters
Print ArticleEvery marriage has its own division of labor.
Some couples do everything together. They both cook. They both drive the kids. They both help with homework. They both handle finances.
Everything is shared.
That is not how our marriage works.
Yael and I have naturally settled into different roles. There are things I take care of, and there are things she takes care of. Part of it is personality. Part of it is that we are simply better at different things.
Take packing our children for Israel.
For our first four children, that was Yael’s department. This summer, I decided I was going to be a more involved husband. I was going to help pack Daniel.
And now I understand why I wasn’t involved the first four times.
Because I have to confess something:
I don’t understand all the choices.
When I packed for Israel many years ago, things were simple. I needed shirts, so I bought shirts. I needed pants, so I bought pants. I packed shoes and toiletries, zipped up my suitcase, and I was done.
Today, every item has become a decision.
What kind of shirt?
Polo? Button-down? Performance material? Stretch?
What kind of pants?
Regular pants? Joggers?
What kind of shoes?
When I went to Israel, there were two categories: weekday shoes and Shabbat shoes.
Today, even sweaters have become complicated. They are quarter-zips.
And somewhere in the middle of this process, I realized something.
The problem is not that choices are bad.
Choices are a gift.
The challenge is knowing which choices deserve our attention.
Because the truth is, this question goes far beyond packing for Israel.
We live in a world filled with choices.
Never before have human beings had so many options.
We choose what we eat.
What we buy.
What we watch.
What we read.
What information enters our lives.
But perhaps the greatest challenge of our generation is not that we lack choices.
Perhaps the challenge is that we have lost the ability to recognize which choices truly matter.
Barry Schwartz called this the “paradox of choice.”
More options do not always create more happiness. Sometimes, when everything becomes a choice, everything begins to feel equally important.
We can spend hours comparing two almost identical shirts, and far less time thinking about the choices that actually shape our lives:
What kind of person do I want to become?
What kind of spouse do I want to be?
What kind of parent do I want to be?
What kind of relationship do I want to have with God?
Perhaps the greatest wisdom in life is not simply knowing how to choose.
It is knowing what deserves our choice.
Our parsha begins with one of the greatest statements in the Torah about human freedom:
R’ay anochi notain lifneichem hayom beracha ukelala -
“See, I place before you today blessing and curse.”
Moshe tells Bnei Yisrael:
You have choices.
Your actions matter.
Your future is not predetermined.
You can choose blessing.
You can choose curse.
Judaism begins with the belief that human beings have responsibility.
We are not simply products of our circumstances.
We can choose who we become.
The Vilna Gaon points out something fascinating about the language of the pasuk.
Moshe does not say:
“See that I gave before you.”
He says:
R’ay anochi notain -
“See that I am giving.”
Present tense.
God gives us choices every single day.
Every morning we wake up, and God places opportunities before us.
How will I respond?
How will I treat people?
How will I use this day?
The Kotzker Rebbe notices another detail.
The Torah begins with the singular:
R’ay – “See.”
But then it continues in the plural:
Anochi notain lifneichem – “I give before you.”
Why the change?
The Kotzker Rebbe explains:
The Torah was given to all of Israel. The values are shared by everyone.
But r’ey is written in the singular because every individual sees something unique.
Every person has a unique mission.
Every person has unique opportunities to bring Torah into the world.
God gives all of us the important choices.
But each of us must learn to see which choices matter most in our own lives.
But then, immediately after teaching us about human choice, the Torah teaches us that not every choice belongs to us.
Moshe discusses the place where the Jewish people will bring their sacrifices:
Ki im el hamakom asher yivchar Hashem –
“You shall go only to the place that God will choose.”
The Torah just told us that we choose.
Now it tells us that one of the most important decisions in Jewish history – the location of the Mikdash – is God’s choice, not ours.
Many mefarshim discuss why God did not reveal the location of the Mikdash immediately.
The Rambam explains that perhaps God wanted to prevent conflict. If the location had been known, nations might have fought over it, enemies might have tried to destroy it, and tribes within Israel might have competed for that honor.
But there is a deeper message.
The Torah is teaching us that we have responsibility – but we are not God.
Some choices define us.
Will I act honestly?
Will I treat people with kindness?
Will I dedicate myself to Torah?
Will I become a better person?
Those choices belong to us.
But there are also parts of life that belong to God.
We can learn Torah.
We can daven.
We can perform mitzvot.
We can work on ourselves.
We can seek a relationship with God.
But we cannot force ourselves to always feel inspired.
We cannot manufacture every spiritual experience.
Sometimes we daven and do not feel the connection we hoped for.
Sometimes we learn Torah and the words do not immediately transform us.
Sometimes we continue choosing God even when the feelings are not there.
And that itself is emunah.
Because faith is not only believing that everything will turn out okay.
Faith is continuing to choose what is right even when we cannot control the outcome.
A relationship with God is not built only on moments of inspiration.
It is built on commitment.
It is built on loyalty.
It is built on choosing God again and again.
Rav Soloveitchik captures this tension through his discussion of Adam I and Adam II.
Adam I builds, creates, plans, and takes responsibility.
Adam II stands before God with humility and recognizes that he is not the sole author of his story.
Judaism demands both.
We must have the courage to act.
And we must have the faith to surrender.
We must do everything we can.
And we must recognize that ultimately, our lives are in God’s hands.
And that brings me back to packing for Israel.
For the young men and women preparing to spend the coming year in Israel, there are many choices to make.
What should I bring?
What should I prepare?
Those choices matter.
But the most important choices begin after the suitcase closes.
What kind of person do I want to become?
Will I reach out to someone who feels alone?
Will I take advantage of the opportunity to learn Torah?
Will I make time for tefillah?
Will I become more thoughtful?
More compassionate?
Closer to God?
Those are the choices that shape a year.
Those are the choices that shape a life.
And this is true not only for those going to Israel.
It is true for every one of us.
Every day, God places choices before us.
The question is not only:
“What choices do I have?”
The deeper question is:
“Do I see which choices really matter?”
But there is another question:
“Which choices belong to me – and which choices belong to God?”
Perhaps this is the avodah of Elul, which begins this week.
Before we rush to change everything, we need to learn how to see.
To ask:
Am I focusing my energy on the choices that truly matter?
Am I choosing the person God calls me to become?
And am I trusting God with the things I cannot control?
Because Judaism teaches us:
We have responsibility.
And we have limitations.
We must choose.
And we must trust.
That is why the first word of our parsha is:
R’ey –
See.
Freedom is not controlling everything.
Freedom is knowing what God asks us to choose – and having faith with everything else.
As we approach Elul, may God give us the clarity to see what matters, the courage to choose what is right, and the faith to trust Him with the rest.
Anochi notain lifneichem hayom –
Today.
A new opportunity to choose blessing.