Sukkot 5771 continued - Parashat Bereishit

by Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei

            A famous passage in the Yalkut Shimoni (651) views the arba minim on Sukkot as a symbol of triumph, celebrating our “victory” during the period of judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur:

This is comparable to two people who come before a judge, and we do not know which of them was victorious.  But the one who takes a palm branch in his hand – we know that he was victorious.  Similarly, Israel and the angels of the world’s nations come for judgment before the Almighty on Rosh Hashanah, [and] we do not know which of them was victorious – but from the fact that Israel leaves from the Almighty’s presence with their lulavim and etrogim in their hands, we know that Israel are the  victorious ones.

According to the Yalkut Shimoni, then, we take the four species on Sukkot as a symbol of our victory over our foes in the judgment that concluded just several days before the festival.

            Why are the arba minim an appropriate symbol of our “victory” on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?  It seems from the Yalkut Shimoni’s comments that it was customary to take palm branches as a sign of triumph.  But is this the extent of the association between the four species and our “triumph” in judgment, or might we find a more fundamental connection?  Furthermore, are we really so certain that we have emerged “victorious” from our judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur?

            Rav Chayim Yaakov Goldwicht zt”l (recorded in Yekara De’Chayim, pp. 71-75) explained by noting that two different “judgments” that take place on Rosh Hashanah – individual, and national.  Individually, each person is judged for the coming year.  This judgment is expressed most vividly in the U-netaneh Tokef hymn, and also in the Gemara’s famous comment (Rosh Hashanah 32b) that the festive hallel recitation is omitted on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur because “the King sits on the throne of judgment and the books of life and books of death are open in front of him.”  On an individual level, our fates are determined during the ten-day period from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur.

            Additionally, however, this period is a time of judgment for entire nations, including for Am Yisrael.  And with regard to this judgment, we are, indeed, guaranteed a favorable outcome.  This accounts for the festive aspect of the Rosh Hashanah observance, as beautifully expressed by a passage in the Talmud Yerushalmi, famously cited by the Tur (O.C. 581):

What nation is like this nation, who knows the nature of its God!  It is customary in the world that a person who has a trial wears black clothing and covers himself in black garments, he lets his beard grow and does not cut his nails, because he does not know the outcome of his trial.  But Israel is not like that – they wear white garments, they wrap themselves in white garments, they shave their bears and cut their nails, and they eat, drink and rejoice on Rosh Hashanah because they know that the Almighty will perform miracles for them and turn their judgment favorably, and tear their [harsh] decrees.

We “know that the Almighty will perform miracles for them and turn their judgment favorably” because Am Yisrael is eternal.  When it comes to our collective judgment, as a nation, we know the outcome before the trial even begins, and this is cause for celebration.

            The guaranteed favorable conclusion of the collective judgment affects the individual judgment.  To the extent to which an individual is defined as an integral part of Am Yisrael, he can secure a favorable judgment on the basis of the favorable judgment assured to Am Yisrael.  If a person lives not for the purpose of self-gratification, pursuing his own individual wishes, but rather to contribute toward the collective unit of Am Yisrael, then he can “piggyback” on the guarantee of Am Yisrael’s continued survival when he stands in judgment.

            The Yalkut Shimoni clearly refers to the national, collective judgment, in which we stand in trial against the enemy nations who seek our destruction.  In this trial, we are guaranteed victory, and we therefore celebrate our triumph each year on Sukkot, after the conclusion of the judgment.  As the symbol of our victory, we take the four species, which are often seen as symbolic of the coalescence of the various segments of Am Yisrael.  When all the “species” of the nation merge together to form a single, cohesive, organic whole, we are guaranteed triumph over any foe.  Our “victory march” therefore features the arba minim, the symbol of each individual’s identification with Kelal Yisrael, the devotion to the collective whole through which we have emerged victorious from our judgment on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

David Silverberg

Sunday

            The Vilna Gaon is cited as observing a certain commonality between the mitzva of sukka and the mitzva of yishuv Eretz Yisrael (living in the Land of Israel).  These two mitzvot, the Gaon noted, are the only of the Torah’s commands that one fulfills through “dwelling.”  There is no specific act involved; rather, the Torah commands us to reside in a certain place.  These two mitzvot, unlike any other, encompass the totality of one’s existence.  They require normal living – eating, drinking, and so on – in a particular location.

            How is this comparison significant?  What does this parallel between sukka and yishuv Eretz Yisrael reveal about either or both of these mitzvot, or about Torah life generally?

            The sukka and Eretz Yisrael signify polar opposite conditions: transience, and permanence.  As the Torah states in Sefer Vayikra (23:43), the sukka represents Benei Yisrael’s travels through the wilderness, as they made their way toward their permanent homeland, the Land of Israel.  The Gemara speaks of the sukka as a dirat arai, a “temporary dwelling,” as it represents the transient nature of Benei Yisrael’s existence during the forty years of travel.  Eretz Yisrael, of course, is our nation’s eternal homeland, the final destination where all our travels and exiles ultimately lead.  The Torah in Sefer Devarim (12:9) refers to the Land of Israel with the term “ha-menucha ve-ha’nachala” (“the resting place and inheritance”), emphasizing that the land represents the final destination of the Jewish people.

            The Torah commands us to “reside” in the transient sukka just as we must reside in Eretz Yisrael, upon arriving at our final destination.  Our residence in the sukka must resemble our residence in our permanent homes, as Halakha explicitly requires: “All seven days [of Sukkot], a person makes his sukka [his] permanent [residence] and his house [his] temporary [residence].”  Although the sukka is a dirat arai, we must use it for dirat keva (permanent residence).  The parallel between the sukka and Eretz Yisrael highlights the sharp contrast between them, and conveys the message that despite the transient nature of the sukka, we must treat it like Eretz Yisrael, like our final, permanent destination.

            There are many stages and situations in life that resemble a “sukka,” temporary periods during which we feel it is not worth our while to invest time or effort pursuing life’s important goals.  During transitional periods, it is tempting to delay our primary responsibilities and aspirations, to put them on hold until we establish stability and permanence.  The mitzva of sukka perhaps instructs that we must “reside” and fully invest ourselves in every stage of life.  Our “residence” in the sukka, during the transient, less-than-ideal periods, must resemble our residence in “Eretz Yisrael,” in the “menucha ve-nachala,” our periods of stability and permanence.  The Torah commands us to celebrate Sukkot with special joy and festivity to teach that we can achieve joy and serenity even in periods of transition of instability – if we commit ourselves to treat those periods as dirat keva, to fully invest ourselves as though we have reached our final destination.

(For a much different explanation of the parallel between sukka and yishuv Eretz Yisrael, see Rabbi Reuven Spolter’s discussion at http://choppingwood.blogspot.com/2010/09/total-body-experience-thought-for.html.)

David Silverberg

Monday

            The Gemara in Masekhet Sukka (26a) establishes an exemption from the sukka obligation for travelers (“holekhei derakhim”).  The precise parameters of this exemption, however, depend on the circumstances.  Those who travel for the purpose of a mitzva, the Gemara says, are exempt both by day and by night, whereas those who travel for other purposes, that do not involve a mitzva, are exempt only by day.  At nighttime, travelers of the second type are obligated in the mitzva of sukka.

            The question arises, what is the extent of the nighttime obligation imposed upon the second group of travelers?  Does this obligation apply only if they happen to lodge in a place with a sukka?  Or, are they required before they leave on their trip to ensure access to a sukka at night?

            Meiri cites one view that non-mitzva travelers are indeed required to secure access to a sukka.  Adherents of this view prove their position from the fact that the Gemara treats this group of travelers more stringently than mitzva travelers.  In the case of a mitzva traveler, these authorities claim, there is no reason to exempt him from the sukka obligation if he has access to a sukka in his place of lodging.  Therefore, if the non-mitzva traveler is treated more stringently than the mitzva traveler, then we must assume that the non-mitzva traveler is required even to build a sukka or to otherwise secure access to a sukka.  The Gemara could not mean that such a traveler is obligated in sukka only if he has one available, since this is true even of a mitzva traveler.

            However, Meiri disagrees with this position, rejecting the assumption that a mitzva traveler must eat and sleep in a sukka if one is available at his place of lodging.  In his view, a mitzva traveler is entirely exempt from the mitzva, even if he has access to a sukka at night.  According to Meiri, then, it does not necessarily follow that a non-mitzva traveler is required to obtain access to a sukka during the nighttime hours.  Instead, Meiri understood that nighttime travelers are required to eat and sleep in a sukka at night only if they find one available; they have no obligation to go through the trouble of securing access to a sukka.

            What might be the rationale underlying Meiri’s position?  Why would a mitzva traveler be exempt from sleeping in the sukka if he has access to a sukka when he lodges at night?

            One intuitive possibility is to explain this passage in terms of the rule of “oseik be-mitzva patur min ha-mitzva,” which exempts a person from a mitzva while he is involved in a different mitzva.  According to one view among the Rishonim, this exemption applies even if one is capable of performing both mitzvot.  Once a person begins a mitzva, he enjoys an exemption from other mitzvot, even from those whose performance would not undermine his ability to satisfactorily execute his current mitzva.  Meiri perhaps subscribed to this view, and therefore exempted a mitzva traveler entirely from the mitzva of sukka, even if he would not need to expend time or energy obtaining access to a sukka.

            However, as noted by Rav Azarya Berzon (http://www.yutorah.org/togo/sukkot/articles/Sukkot_To-Go_-_5771_Rabbi_Berzon.pdf), in an earlier passage in his commentary Meiri explicitly rejects this opinion.  He rules that the exemption of “oseik be-mitzva patur min ha-mitzva” applies only if one is unable to perform both mitzvot.  The question thus resurfaces, why does Meiri exempt mitzva travelers from the obligation of sukka even if they have access to a sukka when they lodge?

            We could perhaps explain Meiri’s view on the basis of a comment of the Ra’avya, as cited by the Hagahot Oshri (Sukka 2:9).  The Ra’avya claimed that mitzva travelers are exempt from the sukka obligation even at night because, quite simply, a good night’s sleep will help them in the mitzva they have set out to perform.  Even if they do not need to expend efforts to build or otherwise gain access to a sukka, they are more likely to enjoy a restful and rejuvenating night’s sleep indoors.  Since this will enhance their ability to properly perform the mitzva, they are exempt from sleeping in the sukka.  Quite possibly, Meiri followed this view, and therefore ruled that mitzva travelers are exempt even if they have a sukka readily accessible in their place of lodging.

            It should be noted, however, that this approach would explain only the exemption from the obligation to sleep in the sukka.  According to this explanation, mitzva travelers who have access to a sukka when they lodge would be required to eat in a sukka, as this would not detract in any way from their ability to perform the mitzva – a distinction that does not appear in the Gemara.

            Rav Berzon suggests that Meiri understood the exemption that applies to travelers on the basis of the rule of “teishvu ke-ein taduru,” which means that one must treat the sukka as his home.  Just as a person leaves his home on occasion to travel, similarly, it is permissible to reside outside the sukka for the purpose of travel.  Meiri understood that this exemption absolves mitzva travelers from the obligation of sukka altogether, whereas with regard to non-mitzva travelers, it exempts them only from the requirement to obtain access to a sukka.  If they have access to a sukka, however, then they are required to eat and sleep in the sukka.

David Silverberg

Tuesday

            Among the most common concerns that arise with regard to the etrog is the possibility that it is an etrog ha-murkav – the product of grafting.  It was (and likely still is) common to graft branches of etrog trees onto lemon trees, and it is widely assumed that fruits produced by such a branch may not be used for the mitzva of etrog on Sukkot.  Although this disqualification does not appear anywhere in the Talmud or in the writings of the Rishonim, many Acharonim ruled that such an etrog may not be used for the mitzva.

            The most common – and perhaps most intuitive – basis for disqualifying an etrog ha-murkav is the fact that it cannot be identified or categorized as an etrog.  Quite simply, the fruit grown on an etrog branch grafted onto a lemon tree is not an etrog, but some other kind of citrus fruit.  From this perspective, it is easy to explain why the Talmud never mentions this disqualification.  The product of grafting is not an invalid etrog; it is simply not an etrog.  Therefore, just as the Talmud did not find it necessary to establish that a lemon cannot be used for the mitzva, it also saw no reason to specify the disqualification of an etrog ha-murkav.

            Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l (http://vbm-torah.org/sukkot/suk64rya.htm) boldly dismissed this assumption that an etrog ha-murkav is not defined as an etrog.  He noted that modern botanical science has conclusively determined that when a branch is grafted onto a tree, the host tree only provides water and nutrients to the grafted branch, but has no effect on its genetic makeup.  From a strictly scientific standpoint, there is little doubt that the fruit of a grafted etrog branch is an etrog, and not a lemon or lemon-etrog hybrid.

            Rav Amital notes that the Talmud Yerushalmi (Kilayim, chapter 1) appears, at first glance, to deny this assumption.  Amidst its discussion of the prohibition against grafting two species of fruits, the Yerushalmi mentions that when an olive branch is grafted onto a palm tree, the palm has a sweetening effect upon the olives produced by the branch.  This comment seemingly assumes that the host tree indeed impacts upon the essential characteristics of the grafted fruit.  However, Rav Amital noted, it is likely that the Yerushalmi refers to the cross-pollination that often results from grafting.  Placing two different species in close proximity to one another increases the likelihood of cross-pollination, which will, undoubtedly, affect the nature of the fruits produced by the grafted branch.  This effect is not the direct result of the grafting, but rather a common byproduct of bringing two species close together.  Nowadays, when a branch is grafted, all the branches of the host tree are first removed, thus avoiding the possibility of cross-pollination.  For this reason, Rav Shaul Yisraeli, in his work Eretz Chemda, goes so far as to permit modern-day grafting.  Although the Torah forbids merging different species together, Rav Yisraeli claimed that this refers only to the creation of a new kind of species.  Contemporary grafting does not produce this result, and therefore, according to Rav Yisraeli, is permissible.  In any event, it is clear that an etrog branch grafted onto a lemon tree in the modern era produces ordinary etrog fruits.

            Nevertheless, the question remains whether Halakha follows the botanical definitions of contemporary science, or if it classifies fruits based on the identity of the trees on which they grow, irrespective of their genetic properties.  Even if an etrog produced on a grafted branch is scientifically no different than an ordinary etrog, it is possible that Halakha has its own system of botanical classification, and might perhaps classify the fruit as the product of the host tree.

            Indeed, the Gemara in Masekhet Sota (43b) seems to suggest that a grafted fruit’s classification depends upon the host tree.  The Gemara there establishes that if a “young” tree – meaning, a tree within three years of its planting, which is considered orla and thus forbidden for consumption – becomes entangled with an “old” tree, it loses its status as orla.  The young tree becomes “nullified” (“batel”) and assumes the halakhic identity of the host tree, such that it becomes permissible.  Some halakhic authorities point to this ruling as a basis for disqualifying an etrog ha-murkav.

            However, as Rav Amital zt”l cites, the Chatam Sofer (glosses on the Shulchan Arukh, O.C. 648, commenting on Magen Avraham 648:3) refutes this proof.  The Chatam Sofer notes that the Gemara deals with the “nullification” of a halakhic status of prohibition, not of a botanical identity.  The fact that a grafted branch loses its status as halakhically forbidden fruit does not mean that it changes species, assuming the identity of the host tree.  It is far more logical to assume that its species is determined based on its physical properties, in which case there is no doubt that it retains its original identity even after grafting.  The Gemara demonstrates only that a halakhic status of issur (prohibition) or heter (permissibility) is determined by the host tree, but not that the host tree determines the grafted branch’s species.

            Tomorrow we will iy”H continue our discussion of this topic.

David Silverberg

Wednesday

            Yesterday we discussed the status of an etrog ha-murkav, an etrog that grew on a branch that had been grafted onto a lemon tree.  While it is commonly assumed that such a fruit cannot be halakhically defined as an etrog, and thus cannot be used for the mitzva  of arba minim, Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l (http://vbm-torah.org/sukkot/suk64rya.htm) argued that it indeed meets the halakhic definition of an etrog.

            However, beyond the issue of the fruit’s classification as an etrog, there is also another basis for disqualifying an etrog ha-murkav, as noted by the Levush (cited by the Taz, O.C. 649:3):

I claim that they are disqualified according to Torah law, for it is known that they were grafted, that a branch from the etrog tree was grafted onto a… lemon tree, or vice versa, and so the transgression of grafting has been violated with it. Even if gentiles grafted it, one view… maintains that even a gentile is commanded with regard to grafting trees. Once a transgression has been violated with it, then even though it is permissible for consumption, it is repugnant for God.

The Levush refers here to the principle of mitzva ha-ba’a ba-aveira, which disqualifies for a mitzva objects that resulted from a transgression.  The Gemara famously applies this rule to the four species, in the beginning of the third chapter of Masekhet Sukka.  Thus, for example, one may not use a stolen lulav for the mitzva of arba minim.  Since grafting two different species constitutes a Torah prohibition, as the Gemara establishes in Masekhet Kiddushin (39a), it follows that the product of grafting would be unfit for mitzva use.  The Levush adds that this would apply even if the grafting was performed by a gentile, because, as the Rambam rules (Hilkhot Melakhim 10:6), even gentiles are forbidden from grafting different species.  Regardless of who grafted the etrog branch onto the lemon tree, the resulting fruit would be invalid for use for the mitzva.  (The Taz disputes the Levush’s contention with regard to gentiles.)

            Rav Amital noted that while it is true that the products of grafting would likely be invalid for the mitzva, this disqualification is very limited in scope.  The Rambam explicitly rules that once a branch has been grafted, in violation of the Torah, the seeds it produces may be planted thereafter: “One may plant a shoot from a tree that had been grafted with kilayim [mix of species] and sow from a vegetable seed that had been planted with kilayim” (Hilkhot Kilayim 1:7).  Therefore, the etrogim taken from orchards originating from grafted branches are perfectly suitable for the mitzva.  Since it is permissible to plant the seeds of grafted trees, the “second generation” fruits may be used for a mitzva.  It is only the fruits of the grafted branches themselves that would be invalid due to the principle of mitzva ha-ba’a ba-aveira.

David Silverberg

Thursday

            Moshe begins his blessings in Parashat Vezot Haberakha by speaking about the tribe of Reuven, the descendants of the eldest of Yaakov’s sons: “May Reuven live and not die, and may his numbers be counted (among the rest of the Israelites – Rashi)” (33:6).

            Upon reading this verse, one is immediately struck by its dim, ominous undertones.  Moshe here does not wish much for Reuven – only that the tribe should survive, that they should not perish, and that they remain included among the Israelite nation.  Rashi explains that Moshe’s prayer was necessary due to the ongoing, persistent reverberations of Reuven’s sin with Bilha many years earlier.  Moshe beseeched God to continue including Reuven’s tribe despite his grievous mistake.

            Rav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, however, offers a far more “upbeat” approach to this blessing to Reuven.  Rav Hirsch perceptively noted that unlike all the other tribes’ blessings, Reuven’s blessing does not occupy an independent paragraph in the Torah.  There is no paragraph break before Reuven’s blessing, indicating that it is integrally connected to the previous verses, which poetically recall the event of Ma’amad Har Sinai, when God revealed Himself and presented the Torah to Benei Yisrael.  This seemingly peculiar structure, according to Rav Hirsch, holds the key to understanding Moshe’s intent in this berakha to Reuven.  Rav Hirsch writes:

Reuben is – with the exception of Simeon who is not mentioned at all – the only tribe of whom no material or spiritual or moral specialty is mentioned, whereas all the other tribes are characterized by the nature of their territory, power, position or social or spiritual activity and efficiency.  So that it seems that after Jacob’s last dispositions, [when] Reuben had lost the leadership which otherwise would have accrued to him as the firstborn, his tribe did not distinguish itself by any material or spiritual specialty.  But it had just been saying that there was one possession, and that indeed the very highest, the Torah, which was the one real and true treasure of the nation, and in that all had equal part and in which all the tribes were accorded equal valuation and appreciation.  On that rested the fact that also a tribe not remarkable in any way for some material or spiritual specialty, a “Reuben” also would find in it, in faithful keeping and guarding it, a development of its life which was fully appreciated and valued, would not have to fall out of the nation.

Moshe’s blessing to Reuven was that the tribe would be special even it had no special distinction; that its crucial contribution to Benei Yisrael would be recognized despite the fact that it featured no singular, outstanding quality.  Reuven’s berakha is structured within Moshe’s discussion of Matan Torah precisely because Matan Torah is what makes an otherwise “ordinary” tribe a special tribe.  The Reubenites would not distinguish themselves through the leadership of Yehuda, the priestly duties of Levi, or the military skills of Gad, but they were nevertheless special and unique by virtue of their having received the Torah at Sinai.

            Moshe’s blessing to Reuven thus conveys the powerful lesson that a person does not have to distinguish himself through outstanding achievement to have an impact and make a meaningful contribution to Am Yisrael.  Needless to say, we must always seek to actualize our potential to its fullest and seek excellence in every area we can.  At the same time, however, we must recognize the significance of “Reuven,” or being just a “normal” member of Am Yisrael.  There is nothing “ordinary” about an “ordinary” member of God’s treasured nation.  By committing ourselves to the Torah, we become special even if we do not distinguish ourselves through any specialty.  “Reuven” continues to live, this tribe remains an integral part of the nation, despite its not distinguishing itself in any particular area.

David Silverberg

Friday

            The Torah in Parashat Bereishit tells the story of Kayin and Hevel, which began when the two brothers brought offerings to God.  Upon seeing that his brother’s offering was accepted while his met with God’s rejection, Kayin felt despondent.  God said to him in response, “Why are you distressed, and why is your face down?  Surely, if you act properly, it shall be borne, and if you do not act properly, the sin crouches at the door; it will adhere to you, but you exert control over it” (4:6-7).

            These verses are especially difficult to interpret, and several different approaches to explaining God’s comments to Kayin appear in the various commentaries.  Targum Onkelos translates the verse as follows: “Surely, if you improve your conduct, it will be forgiven for you, but if you do not improve your conduct, then the sin shall remain intact until the day of judgment.  You will be punished if you do not repent, but if you repent, you will be forgiven.”  According to the Targum, then, this verse is about teshuva.  When God says, “it will adhere to you, but you exert control over it,” He means that a person’s sin clings to him and threatens to cause his downfall, but he has full control over the situation since teshuva is capable of erasing liability.

            While this interpretation accommodates the literal reading of the verse, its gives rise to the question of why God conveyed this message to Kayin at this point.  What sin did Kayin commit that warranted this reminder of the power of teshuva?  And why is this God’s response to Kayin’s despondency?  Recall that God introduced His remarks by rhetorically asking Kayin, “Why are you distressed, and why is your face down?”  These comments are clearly intended as a reason why Kayin should not feel disconsolate over the rejection of his offering.  But how does the concept of repentance serve as a source of solace for Kayin?

            Apparently, Targum Onkelos understood that Kayin’s offering was substandard, and therefore constituted a sin.  Indeed, Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor explained this verse as referring to Kayin’s presenting a low-quality offering, which is a sign of disrespect to God.  Bekhor Shor cites in this context the famous verse in Sefer Malakhi (1:8), “Hakriveihu na le-fechatekha,” in which the prophet censures the people for offering cheap animals as sacrifices.  Offering a cheap sacrifice is not simply less preferable than a high quality offering; it constitutes a sin, which requires repentance to be atoned.  According to Onkelos’ reading of this verse, it appears, Kayin sinned by bringing a low-quality offering, and God therefore urged him to repent.

            Still, the question remains, how is this discourse on the power of repentance a response to Kayin’s feelings of dejection?

            It seems that Kayin’s despondency was borne out of a feeling of hopelessness in the face of failure.  He saw his brother’s success and his failure in earning God’s favor, and felt depressed.  God therefore reminded Kayin that there was a solution, that he had access to a cure for his hard feelings.  The message of this verse is that the pain of failure can be healed through teshuva, by correcting the flaw moving forward.  After making a mistake, we must not just wallow in our feelings of regret and inferiority; instead, we must tap into the power of repentance and commit ourselves to grow and improve.

            Unfortunately, Kayin did not heed God’s exhortation.  Suffering from the relentless feelings of inferiority and failure, he vented his anger by slaying his brother.  Kayin failed the test of failure.  Rather than find a constructive method of assuaging his emotional distress, he instead released his anger in an act of violent rage.  Rather than healing his pain through the process of sincere introspection and attempting to change, he surrendered to the agony of defeat, allowing those fierce emotions to overcome him and drive him toward violence.

            The tragic story of Kayin teaches the importance of remaining hopeful, optimistic and upbeat in the face of failure, by finding the solution within oneself, rather than casting the blame on external factors.  Despite the fact that “it will adhere to you,” that our mistakes will cling to us, weigh down heavily upon us and give the appearance of remaining within us forever, we must remember that “you exert control over it,” we possess the power to rectify our mistakes and to move forward with confidence, inching ever closer to perfection.

David Silverberg