By Rabbi Jonathan Gewirtz
If Not Now, When?
During the weeks between Pesach and Shavuos, there is a widely held custom to learn Pirkei Avos, Ethics of the Fathers, on Shabbos afternoons. Some continue throughout the summer. One of the most famous quotes from this section of the Mishna comes from Hillel.
In Chapter 1, he is quoted as often saying, “If I am not for me, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” These phrases frame one’s thoughts and empower him to make proper and powerful decisions in life; the kind we make every day, many times a day, when we are faced with a choice of some sort.
I wanted to focus on one of these phrases, based on an experience I just had. I send out a weekly Parsha sheet, with original content not found anywhere else. I refuse to just copy a prior year’s Torah, and push myself each week to find something new in the Torah portion. [If you’re interested, e-mail info@jewishspeechwriter.com and ask about it.] It’s something I’ve been doing for the better part of my life.
Well, I use an e-mailing service to send it out, based on a mailing list of subscribers. When I prepare to send it out each week, they ask me who I wish to send it to. Invariably, I send to all current subscribers – those who unsubscribed for whatever reason would probably not appreciate a surprise e-mail. Today, though, I noticed a question posed by the software: “Would you like to exclude people who have not interacted in the past three months?”
I assume the idea is that people who are sending e-mails for their businesses want to focus on the hot leads that will make them money, and not waste time and resources reaching out to people who are clearly not interested. So, if someone hasn’t opened my e-mails in three months, they’re probably unlikely to start now, and maybe I want to just skip it.
Of course, I did NOT accept that option. I said no. Why? Because I know that just because someone hasn’t acted on the e-mails until now doesn’t mean they won’t suddenly open it one day. Maybe they will be stuck in line at the drive-through pharmacy and my e-mail will pop up. Not having anything better to do, they’ll figure, “Why not?” and open it. Maybe they like what they read, and maybe in the future they will open the e-mail again. I have nothing to lose by just reaching out and being there when they need me.
And that’s when Hillel’s expression jumped into my brain. “If not now, when?” We can look at it in different ways. On the one hand, it can mean that we shouldn’t procrastinate from doing the right thing because who’s to say we will have the opportunity in the future? Maybe it will not come again.
Then again, we can consider, as I did, that even if now isn’t an option, there may come a time in the future when the person will have the opportunity or the incentive to take that proper action. I don’t know if someone will read my e-mails weekly, monthly, or once every few years, but even one time in the future is worth sending that opportunity over and over again. It costs me nothing (based on the plan I have, anyway) to put it out there and hope that someone will pick it up.
I’ve heard people tell me, “I really needed to hear that today!” The words I sent touched their hearts in a way that comforted or strengthened them. I once heard a Rabbi explain that when that happens, it wasn’t the fact that my words touched them. Rather, they needed to hear it, so Hashem put it in my mind for me to send them the message they were supposed to receive from Him. It’s not that my words are so special, but that they are Hashem’s words, and when that message is sent, it’s my job to deliver it.
That’s another reason I won’t decide not to send to someone who hasn’t interacted in some time. Who knows if they were on my list simply because one day, at one moment, this will be the medium Hashem chooses to contact them through? Why would I be silly enough to interfere with that?
We all have our moments, the times when we suddenly feel an urge to connect with Hashem. Our ringers may be off; in silent mode. But there’s a spiritual vibration we feel, telling us Hashem is calling. None of us know when that moment will come, but we should be ready to answer. More than that, we should try, and want to try, to initiate some of those calls whenever possible.
Maybe, as Hillel suggests, one day someone will feel they want to connect and will open my e-mail to find Hashem’s message. I’m sure it could happen someday. It may not be now, and I don’t know when, but I’ll keep the lines of communication open, just in case.
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