Do We Really Expect 12 Year Old Girls To Keep The Whole Torah?

A Torah Anytime original series. Let's ask an  obvious question. How is it possible that the   moment a girl turns 12 or a boy turns 13, they  are suddenly expected to carry the entire Tyra   on their shoulders? The Tyra at Hari was given to  all of Kalisro evenly. Whether you're 75 years old   and seasoned by life and reflective and mature or  you're 12 years old and barely know what you're   doing and yet the obligation is the same. You  are now responsible to keep the entire Tyra.   Isn't that a little hard on a 12-year-old or a  13-year-old? Think about it. 10 seconds ago, they   were just lounging around all day playing ping  pong, jealous of their friend sneakers and wishing   they had the coolest backpack or newest gadget.  And now suddenly, no more jealousy. 10 seconds ago   they didn't exactly respect their parents and now  suddenly 10 seconds ago they knew almost nothing   about Shabas and now they're hit with an avalanche  millions of Shabas they're supposed to know all of   them like just like the like just like that the  snap of a finger how does Hashem expect a child   to just flip a switch and overnight suddenly keep  everything? Here's the answer. The answer is that   somewhere along the way we absorbed a completely  false idea that at any given moment you're   supposed to already be a sadic that the minute  you turn bar mitzvah or basitzah if you're not   or kvski you're already behind that if you slip  once and say a little you failed if you didn't   finish shas in high school you failed if you don't  know every last detail of hilos shabas you failed   that mindset isn't just wrong. It's a mistake of  epic proportions. Hashem does not expect greatness   the moment we come out of the womb. He's not  waiting with a clipboard at age 13 saying, "Okay,   let's see if this one nailed Judaism yet." Life is  not about being a sadic on day one. Life is about   ending up at sadic. About movement, about growth,  about becoming a sadic. Here's the part a lot of   people miss. Hashem is a lifelong journey. It's  not a pop quiz. It's not a light switch. It's not   an overnight transformation. You're not meant to  walk out of childhood as a fully formed spiritual   giant with everything figured out. The goal isn't  perfection at 13 or even 27. The goal is that when   life is over, you can say you spent it climbing.  And climbing is messy. It includes confusion and   missteps and backtracking and falls. It includes  trying and failing and trying again and sometimes   failing better. The second time, the Tory doesn't  demand flawlessness. It assumes struggle. It's   built for human beings, not angels. Hashem isn't  asking, "Are you perfect yet?" He's asking,   "Are you moving? Are you growing? Are you still  in the game?" Because greatness in Judaism isn't   about never failing. It's about refusing to  stay down. Listen to this Gumar. The Gumarian says something shocking about the greatest  spiritual collapse in history. The it says the Gumar is trying to figure out how in the world  could the holiest Jews who ever lived commit such   like an egregious act immediately after receiving  the Tory. So the Gmorra says that in truth   they were on a much higher loftier level than  committing such a sin. However, Hashem lowered   their guard, so to speak, so that they should sin  and then thus be forced to do chuva and introduce   to the world the concept of chuva. That's what the  garra says. Let's ask an obvious question. Are you   serious? That's when you teach us about chuva.  I I'm all into chuva. It's important. There's   no doubt. Can you wait a few minutes before  orchestrating the most catastrophic publicly   talked about sin in all of world history? Does it  really need to be 10 seconds after we get to Tyra?   Can't you wait until some random cloudy day in  October? The Jews are sitting around in the desert   counting sand and minding their own business and  there is nothing else going on and then you lower   their level and they do the ego and we do chuva  and we teach the whole world for all time the   concept of chuva. Why orchestrate it to coincide  with the giving of the Torah. Oh, only the single   greatest holiest moment in all of world history.  That's when you teach me about chuva. The answer   is that Hashem chose that moment on purpose right  after Matra because he wanted to make something   crystal clear once and for all. Don't you ever  dare think that the Tyra is only for its sadikim.   Don't you ever dare think it demands perfection,  that it's only for people floating in some holy   spiritual incubator where everything is peaceful  and pure. No, that's not real life. The reason   the eagle had to come immediately after Matanra is  to show us that a Torah life without failure and   more importantly without knowing how to get back  up doesn't work. The Tyra was given with failure   in mind. The Tyra doesn't just understand failure.  It expects it. It anticipates it. For the same God   that gave us the Tyra gave us the challenges to  strengthen us and to eventually bring us back to   him through the most powerful force in the world,  a force called Chuva. Hashem was sending a message   not just to the Jews of the Midbar, but to every  single Jew for all time. That pit in your stomach   when you mess up, that ache, that guilty feeling,  that anxiety, that feeling that you should be   spiritually more than you are right now, that's  not something that gets in the way of your hashem.   That is your hashem. Being real, being raw, coming  to Hashem, not with perfection, but with honesty,   with the bruises, with the baggage, with the  regret, with the burning desire to pick yourself   up and keep going. That's not a flaw in this  system. That's not a bug in the system. That is   the system. Hashem didn't give the Tyr to angels.  He gave it to people. Real people with jobs and   bills and screaming kids and spilled coffee and  annoying co-workers and sore backs and overflowing   schedules and breaking points. And somewhere deep  inside of all of that, a spark that just wants   more. The fact that you wish you learned more,  Tyra. The fact that you regret you don't davin   better. that you cry when no one else is looking  because you really want to give more stuck and you   wish you could. That you carry spiritual dreams  you never had time to chase that still nag at   your heart. That's not failure. That's the spark.  That's not something that gets in the way of your   yearning to be better in a hashem isn't a detour.  It's the highway. And yet, how often do we walk   around saying, "Hey, I'm not a gudle, so I'm a  failure. I don't dive in like the stone or Rebel,   so I'm a failure. I don't learn like Ramisha  Finstein, so I'm a failure. What a mistake. Hashem   doesn't expect you to be an instant guttle.  He wants to see you learn to grow. He knows   your life. He knows your struggles. He knows your  limitations. He made your limitations. Of course,   he doesn't expect a 13-year-old or a 12-year-old  girl to be perfect on their bar mitzvah day. What   he wants is that you're climbing the ladder, not  settling on the floor. Hashem never asked you to   be a gull overnight. He asked you not to give up  on becoming one. So stop disqualifying yourself.   Stop comparing your beginning to someone else's  end. Stop calling growth failure just because   it's not finished yet. If you're climbing, even  if you're out of breath, you're exactly where   you're supposed to be. I recently made for my son.  The minug is that being that a child learned the   entire Tyra in his mother's womb and then is  tapped on the lip and forgets it right before   he leaves. We go all to be manaka marvel him and  console him so to speak. So I asked the following   question at the sha. I said I don't understand.  This baby a few days ago was sitting and learning   with the greatest giants who ever lived. He  was being taught by angels. He was learning   kabala from the Arizal. He was learning lumis  from Brisker and from karo. And he was learning   gimmar with rava and abay and he was learning kish  sitting next to rashi and then he leaves and he is   distraught and he comes into this world and we  are his us a room full of people who barely know   anything. Aren't we only confirming his doubts on  this world that this is a world of people who know   almost nothing in comparison to the angels that  he was learning with. isn't a room full of tired   and worn out men who had a long week working who  probably didn't learn too much who are just trying   to make it in life and we are the He sees the guy  who hasn't opened the safe for in months he sees   the guy who is on a third grade level of and he's  50 he just finished learning with the pua and the   moral and the emis this baby and this is his we  how are we comforting him we are terrifying him   the answer is we're telling him something loud and  clear. The Tyra isn't about knowing everything.   It's about growing. It's about trying. It's  about struggling. That's what this world is   for. That's why we show up to show him the beauty  of effort, not perfection. We're telling them,   you don't lose out by being born. You're starting  your journey to greatness. One that will last you   your whole life. You see, a lot of people go  through life thinking, "I'm 27. I still speak   lash. I still look look at things I shouldn't.  I still don't do properly. I'm failing. I'm a   nobody. I might as well go just go make money all  day and make the most out of my haz hope for the   best. But that's wrong. You're not supposed to  be at Saddak at 27. You're supposed to end up   at Sadic. That's the game plan. That's the secret.  Life is designed to challenge you, to stress you,   to push you into the chuva highway. Your mistakes,  your regrets, your I can't believe I just did that   moments. That's where the growth lies. That's  where the real spiritual work happens. The Tyra   isn't a VIP club for perfect people. It's a manual  for real people with messy lives. And if you take   it seriously, failures, strugglers, chaos, and  all, you'll end up at Sadic. Not immediately,   not tomorrow, but in the end. And at  the end of the day, that's what counts.