One night this past summer, Camp Dora Golding went on a trip to a water park. Since the water park was not that far from camp, I drove there with my sons instead of going on one of the camp buses.
It was well after midnight when we exited the park and arrived back at the car. I typed the camp address into Waze and began driving back. The drive took us along very dark, windy country roads. After about a half hour of driving, I was happy to see that we were finally almost back at camp.
At that point, I was tired, and it had not been an easy drive. We were less than a half mile from camp when Waze directed us to turn onto a nondescript road that would lead us up to the entrance of camp. Without thinking twice about it, I turned onto the road. After the first few yards, the road became bumpy. Then it became insanely bumpy. There were massive potholes that seemed more like craters in the road. I was driving less than five miles per hour and swerving carefully, trying to avoid whichever potholes I could, so as not to destroy the bottom of my car.
People who live on such a road aren’t likely to be too friendly or welcoming in the middle of the day. They’re probably far worse at 2 a.m. I was praying that the car would make it back to camp in one piece and that the neighbors didn’t hear us driving on their road. I had a bad feeling that the wheels were going to roll off, leaving us sitting on the mangled ruins of the car.
Suddenly, the short drive back to camp felt very long and strenuous.
Thankfully, we eventually made it to the entrance of camp and turned in safely.
It is unnerving, though, to think that there is such a hazardous road just outside the camp, in the opposite direction from where all traffic enters and exits camp.
That night, when I (finally) went to bed, I was reading one of Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski’s books. In it, he quoted the Gemara (Eiruvin 53a) that relates about a time when Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah was traveling and asked a child for directions. The child replied that there is a short, long way and a long, short way, and he can choose which way he wants to go.
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah chose the short, long way and soon enough arrived at the outskirts of the city. However, when he arrived, he couldn’t figure out how to get into the city. Presumably, he was forced to retrace his steps to follow the long, short path. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananiah then understood the wisdom of what the child had told him, and he kissed the child on the head. The short path may have gotten him to his destination more quickly, but it was to no avail. The other path may have been longer and more arduous, but following it was the only way he could arrive at his destination.
It was fascinating that I read that account right after I experienced the veracity of those words. We had driven on a shocking road. It was short, distance-wise, but we had to drive painfully slowly and anxiously and even fearfully.
In a similar vein, the Midrash (Sifrei, D’varim 53) relates a parable about a person sitting at a crossroads with two paths before him, one of which starts out smoothly but ends in a thorny bramble, while the other starts out thorny but ends in a clearing. A resident informs every passerby, “Do you see this path which starts out smoothly? For two or three paces you will walk easily, and then it is filled with brambles and thorns. And do you see that the other path which is full of brambles and thorns? Those impediments are only in the first two or three steps, but then the road is clear and pleasant.”
The traveler cannot see that the initial appearance of the paths is deceptive. The one that seems pleasant will end up being thorny, and vice versa.
The pasuk (Koheles 9:11) states, “The race does not belong to the swift, nor the war to the mighty…” The race is won by one who is persistent, driven, and consistent. Slow and steady can overcome swiftness and impulsivity.
In amusement parks, one can purchase a fast track and not have to wait on the long lines at each ride. As the days of Elul race by and we approach the great days of mercy and favor, we often seek the easy path to greatness. We seek the elusive fast track to t’shuvah that bypasses all the effort and details. We want an instant personality overhaul to transform us overnight into perfect people. Then, when that inevitably fails miserably, we despair of our ability to effect meaningful change. But that’s because we are trying to accomplish too much too quickly. We are traveling the short path, which ends up being far longer.
The only road to sustainable t’shuvah is the long road. It may be arduous and serpentine, but it is the only road that truly leads to the destination we seek.
The Torah states, “For the matter is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart to do it.” It requires a firm commitment and the preparedness to traverse the initial brambles and resistance. But once we get through that initial resistance, we are promised Divine assistance to maintain the arduous journey to personal growth and t’shuvah.
Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW, is a popular speaker, columnist, and author. He is a rebbe at Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, NJ. and principal of Mesivta Orchos Yosher in Spring Valley, NY. Rabbi Staum is also a member of the administration of Camp Dora Golding. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and at www.strivinghigher.com.
