I often feel like I’m the owner of a gold mine, my pockets overflowing with priceless nuggets of Jewish wisdom. It has taken many years to accumulate this motherlode, a process that began when I summoned the nerve to commit to a Torah-based life. This is God-given wisdom about everything that matters: values, priorities, relationships, communication, sensitivity, and more. What I have learned from teachers, mentors, and friends has helped me live each day with the kind of clarity about life I would otherwise lack.
I try to share the wealth in digestible tidbits through my writing. Sometimes, I find opportunities to share them directly with people in my life. Their reactions remind me of how precious our teachings are.
For the past three years I have been a goal buddy with a writer named Carol. We have never met, having found each other through the Authors Guild. She is not Jewish and our writing interests have nothing in common. Still, we have enjoyed a fruitful and faithful correspondence, a camaraderie built and based on what we do share: the peculiar challenges of the writing life.
We email each other on Mondays, sharing achievements and disappointments of the week gone by and goals for the week to come. We share industry information and tips; applaud each other for victories large or small; and encourage and support each other during times we feel dispirited or fed up.
Because Carol is not Jewish, I don’t bring Jewish ideas into the conversation, though it can be tricky because I mostly write about life through a Jewish lens. I tell her about newly published pieces but usually don’t share links; I figure they won’t speak to her and that’s fine. It’s not what the relationship is about.
A few weeks ago, Carol reported on a particularly discouraging week. She had been writing and revising a book for quite a long time and wondered about its chances to attract a good publisher. (We both have moments like this regularly.) My heart went out to her, and I decided it was time to offer one of my nuggets. I wrote: “My faith helps me not to ever become too down about the writing life, the difficulty of breaking through, the self-doubts, because our faith teaches us that God has made only one of us, each for a specific purpose. Only I can offer the combination of talents and abilities that I have. What is meant for someone else is not meant for me. And I cannot even measure the value of what I do, certainly not through commercial results … John Steinbeck wrote a whole book about the writing of ‘The Grapes of Wrath’ where he was plagued by endless doubts about whether it was any good.”
Carol wrote back quickly: “I really love what you said about God making each of us for our own purpose. I ought to print that out and hang it on my computer stand. It’s that inspiring. I have no quibbles about my Methodist upbringing, but I’m impressed at the encouragement and optimism that exists in the Jewish faith.”
I first learned this concept—that we are each an artisanal creation by God with a one-of-a-kind mission—years ago, and it’s been life-changing.
I first learned this concept—that we are each an artisanal creation by God with a one-of-a-kind mission—years ago, and it’s been life-changing. It buoyed me as a young mother with an exhaustingly challenging infant. It helped me shed some layers of envy and egotism, reframing my achievements and mission as really and truly Heaven-sent for me and me only. This was the kind of universal message based on Jewish belief that I could offer Carol at an opportune moment. I was happy that it made her feel better.
Judaism is a treasure trove of life wisdom like this and we all are walking around with these nuggets in our pockets. When the moment is ripe, it’s a mitzvah to share these insights where they can offer some uplift. Blessed with our spiritual inheritance, we need to look for opportunities to gently share the wealth.
Judy Gruen’s books include “The Skeptic and the Rabbi: Falling in Love with Faith.”
