Rashi explains that Bilaam saw the future sons of Yisro (one of Yisro’s seven names was Keini) and was surprised at the distinction they had earned. He intimated (Midrash Tanchuma), “I wonder from where you (Yisro) became worthy of this (extraordinary honor and spiritual nachas). Were you not with me at the time we (Bilaam, Yisro, Iyov) gave advice to Pharaoh (on how to address the ‘Jewish problem’)? Yet, you have settled in the stronghold and citadel of Yisrael.” Apparently, Bilaam conveniently forgot that when he advised Pharaoh to kill the Jews, Yisro picked himself up and fled Egypt. Later on, he converted to Judaism. Iyov sadly kept quiet, remaining passive during the decision to do away with the Jews. His lack of empathy did not go unpunished. What was he to do? Pharaoh would not have listened to him anyway. This may be true, but, as the Brisker Rav, zl, famously said, Az es tut vey – veint mer, “When it hurts – one weeps.” He may not have been able to save the Jews, but he could have protested or, at least, expressed his emotions. Yisro and Bilaam were in no way on parallel footing. Yisro did the right thing – the only thing, while Bilaam did what aligned perfectly with his character.
Horav Eliyahu Baruch Finkel, zl, suggests that perhaps Bilaam embraced the notion that, while teshuvah, repentance/return, does achieve some form of penance, he did not believe that it had such transformative power to change Yisro from the man who sat next to Pharaoh deciding the fate of the Jews, to Yisro, progenitor of Kehunah and father-in-law of Moshe and Elazar. No one in the history of the Jewish People merited such illustrious sons-in-law – surely not one who sat next to Pharaoh and across the table from Bilaam.
This is one of the wiles employed by the yetzer hora to ensure that a sinner does not return to Hashem’s embrace. He encourages the belief that a sinner is beyond teshuvah, or that, even if he repents, his sins are so egregious he will no longer be accepted in Hashem’s good grace. The yetzer hora, evil inclination, is that inner voice that encourages us to refrain from seeking penance. After all, what is it really worth it? Chances are that sin will return. Why make the effort for what will probably be a failed attempt? The yetzer hora’s greatest tactic is making us feel that we are unredeemable.
It is absolutely untrue. Rambam (Hilchos Teshuvah 7:4) writes: “Even if a person has sinned his entire life and repents only at the very end – his teshuvah is accepted. Hashem, our Father in Heaven, is no different than a physical father who never locks the door and always leaves the light on in the hope that his errant child will return.”
Teshuvah, explains the Baalei Mussar, Ethicists, is not only about rectifying the past, but about redefining ourselves. The act of sincere regret and commitment to change transforms a person into something new. The Baal HaTanya (Likutei Eimurim 26) writes that sadness, despair, resulting from spiritual concerns – such as deficiencies in one’s Torah study or prayer – demonstrates that his neshamah, soul, has not become desensitized. If the soul would be indifferent, it would not experience such pain or regret.
A young man who had once been a rising star in yeshivah, learning diligently and committed in all areas of avodah and gemillas chassadim, for some reason, slowly began to drift away from his spiritual growth. Torah achievement is not static; one either rises or he falters – with the descent most often quicker than his earlier ascent. He himself did not know what was the cause of his abandoning Torah, but it went on for decades, as he distanced himself to the point which he thought was the point of no return. Nonetheless, the Pintele Yid within him yearned to return. He was convinced, however, that, after so many years, teshuvah was an impossible dream. He had strayed too far, for too long.
When he was in the yeshivah, he had established a close relationship with the Rosh Yeshivah, whose heart he had broken when he left, but a true Rebbe never gives up on a talmid. He went to visit him. He was no longer a teenager, and his Rosh Yeshivah was already sporting a grey beard. He pleaded his case, explaining that, while he would like to reconnect, he felt it was impossible. “Do you believe in Hashem?” the Rosh Yeshivah asked. He nodded affirmatively. “And do you believe that Hashem is Infinite?” Again, he nodded. “If so, why are you placing limitations on Hashem’s capacity for forgiveness? If Hashem is truly Infinite – as you claim to believe – then His love and compassion is also Infinite. No matter how far a person has strayed, Hashem waits with open arms for him to return.”
The words hit home, penetrating through years of neglect and even anger. He realized that his Rebbe was right – he would not allow his past to define his future. It did not happen overnight, but, slowly, he began taking baby steps – shiurim, one mitzvah at a time, eventually, once again discovering the inherent joy in being an observant Jew. Teshuvah is not about undoing the past, but about transforming the present, so that we will have a Jewish future.
