Shaken by her prediction, Ben Dordia panicked and searched for a way to redeem his life. He sat between two mountains and pleaded with these boulders to pray on his behalf. The mountains, however, responded, "How can we pray for you when we are in need of it ourselves? As it is said, 'For the mountains shall depart and the hills will be removed'." (2)

Undaunted in his quest for forgiveness, Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia turned to the Heaven and Earth, and begged them to seek mercy on his behalf. They too responded, "How can we pray for you? We are in need of it ourselves, as it is written, 'The heavens shall vanish away like the smoke and the earth shall become old like a garment'."(3)

He reached even higher and implored the sun and the moon to be his representatives. They too proved preoccupied fending for their own needs, as they quoted: "Then the moon shall be confounded and the sun ashamed."(4)

Even the stars and the constellations explained that they were unable to pray for Ben Dordia, as they too are in risk of their very existence, "And all the hosts of heaven shall melt away."(5)

Hearing that nothing in the universe was prepared to intervene on his behalf, Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia proclaimed, "This matter is dependent upon me alone," as he placed his head between his knees and wept until his very soul departed. So great was this repentance that a Heavenly voice emerged and extolled, "Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia is destined for the life of the World to Come." This drama provoked Rebbe (Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi) to weep and intone, "Some may acquire eternal life after many years, and others after only one hour."

Why is the Talmud so interested in the story of Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia? Why would he approach mountains and valleys, the sun and the moon, the heavens and the earth to pray on his behalf? What were their responses? Why did Ben Dordia place his head between his knees(6)? And finally, why did Rebbe weep?

NO-FAULT RETRIBUTION INSURANCE

There is a tendency today to assign every misbehavior, every deviance, to the combinations of the nature with which we are born, and the nurture (or the lack thereof) that is defined by our early environment. Almost every abomination has some predetermined biological or social mechanism that explains away the particular misdeed. These forces or overwhelming tendencies turn everyday people into unfortunate but helpless victims of themselves. Social scientists only debate over which factor, of the many that assault us, is the more influential. Human responsibility is eliminated, undermined by the fact that we are pushed and pulled by those characteristics that we inherit. It is accepted as dogma that we are unable to change.

Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia subscribed to this thesis. When confronted with the piercing revelation that his life would end in failure, he sought mercy. Addicted to the well-established patterns of his behavior, no doubt learned and genetically implanted, Ben Dordia was certain that he was a victim of his life's circumstances. He therefore appealed to all of the elements of God's world that are equally unable to change. "Pray on my behalf," he pleaded to the mountains, for they understand what it is like to be unmoving, imprisoned within unyielding boundaries. The mountains disappointed him. To his surprise, the mountains exclaimed, “We need to pray for ourselves. Even we will be moved." The stars and the moon joined in that they too will melt away. In fact, every immovable part of the universe responded that all of creation was brought into being for growth and change. Upon hearing this, Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia understood. As one of God's creations, he too had the ability to change himself. It was for this reason that he was created.

By placing his face between his knees, Ben Dordia rushed the blood to his head. "The spirit lies within the blood."(7) Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia refocused the lifeblood of the soul from his lower region to his cerebral center. There is a constant battle within the human being as to where we place our energies. The body, by its very nature, seeks to feel stimulated and alive. It is not unlike the heralded theme of advertisers to promote their products to our baser instincts, by advertising their item's ability to bring us "alive with pleasure."(8) Despite all of his proclivities to do otherwise, Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia forced his blood to his head. He uplifted his energies and his thoughts to his soul and to Heaven. Ben Dordia changed himself so fundamentally that he found eternal victory in that one moment. (It was at that moment that the Talmud first refers to him as "Rabbi.")

THE MANDATE TO CHANGE OURSELVES

Changing ourselves is the very basis of Jewish life. It is the theme that opens Jewish history. The first communication that is described in the Torah between God and Abraham is a strange introduction for a man who sacrificed his life in the service of his Creator. "Lech Lecha -- Go to yourself," (9) after all, is an eviction notice, "from your country, your place of birth and your father's house." The commentaries question the order of the terms. If Abraham would be forced to leave his country, he would, of course, be removed from his parent's home -- unless his father had an awfully large house. "Lech Lecha," explains Rabbi S.R. Hirsch, is the removal of a set of influences that comprise our basic make up.

There are three major influences that shape human behavior. "Artzecha" -- your country, describes the contemporary societal influences that affect our standards and perceptions. "Molad't'cha," literally, your birth place, describes where we were at the time of our birth; in other words, the biological factors that definitively shape the dispositions with which we are born. (Clearly, there are people who are more likely to become angry, and others who are naturally disposed to depression.) Lastly, there is "beit avicha," your father's home, perhaps the most influential of the three. Our sense of ourselves is well-shaped by the nurturing messages (or the lack of them) that we received at the time of our youth.

The message of Lech Lecha to Abraham is not one of leaving, but of arriving. It is the allowance of an awareness that Abram may become Abraham; that he has the very basic ability to change himself into someone even greater than he was. This contributes understanding to the literal translation of "Lech lecha" to "Go to yourself." Abraham is commanded to find the qualities which Abram had never been disposed to and which had never been the lessons of his father's home. In a word, Abram is commanded to embark upon a personal journey to become Abraham, to change himself in a way that could only be possible by reaching within to the force of his unlimited soul. If we were to remain the sum total of societal influences, biological factors and familial circumstances, what purpose could be found in our creation?

With this mandate at the incipience of our peoplehood, we are taught that change is the reason for our existence. We are required to know that we have the ability to transcend our natural boundaries, to change ourselves by becoming greater than the sum total of our nature and our nurture.(10) The basic concept of "free will" is predicated upon the intrinsic ability that we are given not to invariably respond as we were "programmed." In light of all the weighty elements or "baggage" that we are given to carry, this obligation to change is no easy task. Yet, our very success in this world depends upon it.

COPING? -- OR CHANGE?

In the arena of modern secular psychotherapy, change is not usually a goal. Coping and personal acceptance are more the standard of treatment. This is, of course, in concert with the "inevitability" of our personhood designed by the uncontrollable elements of nature and nurture. For Jews, however, change is part and parcel of our mandate. True, it is often effective to understand the underlying elements or situations that helped to forge the negative elements of our present. Every good general seeks to understand the enemy before confronting it. But for us, those qualities, however transferred, are part of a Divine burden assigned to a soul that is uniquely structured to respond to that particular challenge. Rooted within our belief system is the unswerving faith that no problem is placed within the script of our lives without our first receiving the strength to respond to it.

I have had the opportunity to counsel many individuals who were predisposed to some very negative tendencies. It is usually fairly simple to help people recognize that their destructive tendencies are wrong and hurtful to themselves and their families. Real transition, however, takes place when they are able to perceive of those negative tendencies as a personal challenge afforded them by their Creator. Focusing on understanding the basis of their perceptions, and searching for that soul strength to transcend the very heavy challenge of their personality, allows them to overcome themselves and be someone greater than they were created. In that sense, the Torah supplies the most impressive and effective form of therapy.

The Hebrew word for change, "leshanot," is the very same word for learning (i.e., in the word "Mishna"). That most important component of our connection to the world of Torah has as its root the ability to change ourselves. Broken down even further, the word "sheini" appears. "Sheini," which means "a second," is the goal of change. Like Abraham, we are given the capacity to transform ourselves into a sheini, another person. One step further in dissecting the word, supplies "shein" or tooth. What better part of the human body to illustrate the ability to change, than the tooth that chops and reshapes the food to release its nourishment? Perhaps this is why we respond to the wicked son at the Passover Seder with the harsh, "...and you shall blunt his teeth," because he has refused to change himself into the image of his Creator the purpose for which he was created.

Changing ourselves is so basic to our being that the unit measure of our lives is described by the word "shana." This word for a "year" is, of course, the same as the Hebrew word for "change." The first commandment given to the Jewish people in the Torah is the consecration of time in the form of Kiddush Hachodesh, the arrangement of the months of the shana. A month, a chodesh, is derived from the word "chadash," or new.

Every quantum of time must be seen as a new opportunity, not merely a stagnant continuation of the past. The consecration of time is the celebration of our ability to make one moment different, unique from the other. In numerous commandments, we are called upon to sanctify. Sanctification is the process of changing something into something somewhat greater than it was before.

THE LIFE OF BEN DORDIA... WITHOUT CHANGE

Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia's use of prayer to change his life is symbolized by the placing of his head between his knees. The Talmud is fascinated by his story because the world of the courtesan represents the allure of the stagnant present. A relationship of marriage and family is one of commitment, responsibility and growth. No other human connection calls upon its participants to continue to reshape themselves to the degree that is required in marriage. The very success of marriage is predicated upon our willingness to change ourselves to the needs of someone else. (It is the unsuccessful marriage partner whose central focus is on changing the spouse.)

It requires change and self-transformation to fit and be sensitive to the needs of others. The connection to the courtesan and her world is the opposite. A courtesan is total fantasy. Ben Dordia was able to live a life in which he was reassured that he was wonderful just as he was -- no commitment, no work, no change. But the courtesan extracts a heavy price. The fantasy of such a present denies the glory of the future. There is no lech lecha, no personal journey; there is no change.

Rebbi Yehuda HaNasi, witnessing the transformation of Rabbi Eliezer Ben Dordia and the acceptance of his repentance, began to cry: "One may acquire his world in one moment." What infinite treasure lies within each and every second of our lives if we are given the capability of transforming ourselves in any one moment! "Imagine what we could make of ourselves," Rebbe thought, "if we truly took advantage of all of the moments of our lives, crafted by our Creator."

We are given unmovable mountains in our path, yet we were also afforded the love of our Father to accompany us every moment of our lives. No matter how caught we may feel by our limiting nature and nurture, nothing can stand in our way when we recognize that it is for this very journey into ourselves that we were placed within His dynamic universe. Our lives depend upon our ability to know: from the very first breath of life, we were created to change.

FOOTNOTES:

1. Avoda Zara 17a.

2. Isaiah 54:10.

3. Ibid. 51:6.

4. Ibid. 24:23.

5. Ibid. 34:4.

6. We find putting one's head between one's knees is a form of prayer as in Berachos 34b. However, what it might represent in general and why R. Eliezer Ben Dordia used it in particular are the subject of this question.

7. Deuteronomy 12:23.

8. The Talmud itself describes the lower region, flushed with the blood of our spirit, as being "alive," versus when distanced from that blood, it is called dead. Perhaps this is a possible explanation of the famous Talmudic dictum: "The Torah does not remain within a person excepting he who kills his etzem with it." The "etzem," the bone or the physical component, must be mastered and the lifeblood of our focus, our energies, directed to our thoughts and soul to allow the Torah to be indelibly implanted.

9. Genesis 12:1.

10. Recent scientific evidence indicates that the brain is capable of fundamental change throughout life. Research on patients with obsessive compulsive disorder has shown that there is an intrinsic chemical imbalance in the caudate nucleus of an o.c.d. patient. After behavioral therapy, that imbalance disappears. This is a fascinating indication that we are able to change even the chemical components of our nature (Discover, p.36, June 1996).