“A fanatic,” Winston Churchill is
reported to have said, “is one who can’t change his mind and won’t change the
subject.” Apocryphal or not, it’s a
terrific description of the Pharaoh of Egypt. Pharaoh plays only one note and
never deviates. As a character in the story, he doesn’t come across as a real
person. He’s a stereotype, a foil for God’s invincible power. Of course,
there’s a lovely irony here: to the Egyptians, Pharaoh is not a human being; he’s a god.
Is it possible that a person never changes? Harvard
psychologist Dr. Daniel Gilbert would say no. He and his colleagues explain in
a study recently published in Science: "The End of History Illusion."
We’re changing all the time. Our personalities and values do not remain static.
Yet we believe that who we are today is who we will be a year from now, five
years down the road, a decade hence. Looking back, we can recognize change in ourselves, but looking forward we cannot envision it. Yet
growth and change — throughout our lives — are the norm, not the exception.
So what’s with Pharaoh? Parshat Va’eira offers us a bird’s eye
view of Pharaoh. Torah goes out of its way to tell us that Pharaoh “stiffened
his heart” and even that God stiffened Pharaoh’s heart. It’s not that Pharaoh
was hesitant to change his mind; he was adamantly opposed. Va’eira catalogues the first seven plagues (blood, frogs, lice,
wild beasts, cattle disease, boils, and hail).
Pharaoh is a bull with his head
down charging straight ahead. He
fights growth and abhors change. Oh sure, he appears on the verge of change a
few times, but these turn out to be mere illusion. You might argue that
a chink in the armor appears with the fourth and seventh plagues, lice and hail,
and again with the eighth plague, locusts. The lice inspire Pharaoh to say he
will permit the Israelites to go out into the Wilderness to worship God under
the condition that Moses plead with God to lift the plague:
Pharaoh said, “I will let you go to sacrifice to the Lord
your God in the wilderness; but do not go very far. Plead, then, for me.”
(Exodus 8:24)
But no sooner does God lift the
plague than Pharaoh reneges:
So Moses left Pharaoh’s presence and pleaded with the
Lord. And the Lord did as Moses asked: He removed the swarms of insects from
Pharaoh, from his courtiers, and from his people; not one remained. But Pharaoh
became stubborn this time also, and would not let the people go. (Exodus
8:26-28)
Similarly, in the aftermath of the
wholesale destruction of crops, herds, and property caused by the plague of
hail, Pharaoh admits his guilt and pleads with Moses:
But when Pharaoh saw that the rain and the hail and the
thunder had ceased, he became stubborn and reverted to his guilty ways, as did
his courtiers. So Pharaoh’s heart
stiffened and he would not let the Israelites go, just as the Lord had foretold
through Moses. (Exodus 9:34)
Psychologists and neurologists tell us that this is an
aberration, not the norm. In an article entitled “The Neurobiology of Teshuvah”
Dr. Allan Tobin of UCLA writes:
Evolution
has produced a genetically programmed brain, adapted for plasticity. Humans may
be hardwired to learn language, just as a songbird is hardwired to learn a
song, but the particular language and the particular song depend on experience.
We can also learn to pedal a bicycle, play a piano or putt a golf ball. While
we learn these skills best during childhood, we maintain plasticity as adults.
In every case, learning changes
the physical state of the brain. Even people who have suffered strokes or
spinal cord injury can often recover lost functions during rehabilitation by
practicing strategies that employ and strengthen alternate neural routes.
Similarly, psychoanalysis and psychotherapy may well work by selectively training
alternate neural pathways.
Given that, as Daniel Gilbert,
Allan Tobin, and others in the fields of psychology and neurology have
demonstrated, our personalities and values do change, it seems futile to fight
it as Pharaoh did. Rather than asking, “Will I change?” we should be asking
ourselves, “How will I change?” because then we can make growth and change a
more thoughtful and deliberate process.
We might begin by monitoring our
changes in value and priorities, behavior and relationships. What motivates our
change? Is it fear, mistrust, or hatred? Are these changes justified? Or do we
privilege idealism and hope while keeping our feet planted in the ground of
realism?
How might we monitor changes in
ourselves? Here’s one idea that came to me: Each year — perhaps in preparation
for Rosh Hashanah — ask yourself a series of questions and write out short
answers to each. Here are some suggested questions:
1. If
I could change one thing about myself (not physically or financially), what
would that be?
2. What
do I believe to be the most valuable attributes/personality traits? How would I
rate myself for each?
3. What
are the three most important aspects of living a good life?
4. Who
are the most important people in my life? Why?
5. What
inspires the best in me?
6. What
is most important to me?
After writing out answers to each
question, seal what you’ve written in an envelope. The following year answer
the questions again — as the changed person you now are — and then revisit what
you wrote the previous year. Are you moving in the direction you want?
Even light bulbs change. We have
three choices: We can bumble along, denying that we change (as Gilbert and his
colleagues tell us most of us believe is the case). Or we can make grand and
glorious resolutions we are unable to keep. Or we can revel in the glorious
natural plasticity of our minds and more consciously direct our own growth and
change.
Only Pharaoh stays in dry dock. Your
ship is sailing. Whom do you want at the rudder?
© Rabbi Amy Scheinerman
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