Every mitzvah in the Torah makes demands on a person, enjoining him to leave his comfort zone to serve Hashem. Some mitzvos ask more than others—but that is part and parcel of the religious experience. At times, a mitzvah makes such demands that a person must go against his nature, character and even emotions. Nonetheless, this is the meaning of obedience. It does not always have to be geshmak, pleasant. The fact that we are fortunate to serve Hashem and carry out His dictates is what makes the endeavor geshmak. If we were to pick and choose only those mitzvos which we enjoy, and reject the others, then it would not be a mitzvah; we would be serving ourselves—not Hashem. All this is fine and well and totally acceptable. The mitzvos of yibum and chalitzah, however, the levirate marriage and releasing the obligation, appear to go against the grain of mitzvah obedience.
The Torah provides that, if a husband dies childless, his widow and brother should marry. If, however, the brother either refuses or is unable to follow through with marriage (yibum), the contingency of chalitzah exists, a process which severs the bond between them (brother-in-law and sister-in-law.) The brother may have one of various reasons why he does not want to perform yibum: he’s married, and a co-wife would strain his relationship with his wife, (This was when one was permitted to have more than one wife.); he does not particularly care for his sister-in-law’s personality or physical appearance. The fact that the Torah provides this man with a contingency plan is very telling about the Torah.
HoRav Gedalah Eismann, z”l (Mashgiach Kol Torah), emphasizes that chalitzah is not just an option—it abrogates the mitzvah of yibum. In other words, if the brother refuses to perform yibum for personal reasons, he opts for chalitzah, thereby neglecting the mitzvah of yibum. Where do we find such an option? What about the mitzvah of yibum? We just prefaced the dvar Torah with the idea that we do not have the option of picking and choosing mitzvos. Our comfort zone is not taken into the equation. Apparently, the mitzvah of yibum tells us something else. It conveys a poignant message about Hashem’s “thoughtfulness” with regard to mitzvos.
When a mitzvah is simply beyond a person’s ability to perform, the Torah gives them an opportunity to option out. Such a person cannot possibly fulfill a mitzvah, bisheleimus, to perfection. His heart is not in it. The Mashgiach cites a number of leniencies in order to improve the relationship between a man and wife. One may not marry a woman until he sees her, which, under other circumstances, contradicts the laws of tznius, moral modesty. This is despite the fact that a woman has been designated for him. Since marrying a woman whom he has not seen is counterintuitive to his nature, he is allowed some leeway. He is not an angel. He is human, and the Torah takes his humanity into consideration.
The lesson to be derived is powerful and inspiring. How often does one feel overwhelmed by the Torah’s demands? We look at the tzaddikim, saintly Jews of our generation, and imagine that the Torah was written for them—not for us. We are ordinary people who are not yet ready to live the life of a tzadik. The response to this common “excuse” is: Hashem does not expect you to be someone that you are not. He asks that you be you—but strive to elevate who you are, to grow from within, step by step, rung by rung.
We are human beings with human emotions, emotional desires, inconsistencies and frailties. Despite this, we all have incredible potential which should be our lodestar as we navigate through the challenges of our life’s journey. The Torah does not ask us to recreate our character—but to refine it. A chassid once exclaimed to his Rebbe, “Rebbe! I want to be like you!” The Rebbe smiled, “Hashem already has one of me. What He wants is one of you—the best version you can develop.”
