Yediyah doesn’t just free us from the past. It frees us in the present.

After many years of marriage, the wife of a great Rav once surprised him with a painful rebuke. She described how, throughout their marriage, her husband had not been respectful enough of her interests.

How did the rav react? He didn’t get angry, or jump into self-defense. Instead, he accepted the mussar and immediately committed to working on himself.

How can a person reach such a state of liberation from normal human patterns?

Last week, we spoke about yediyah’s practical application to our lives as growing Jews. Quoting Yosef’s reassurance to his brothers – “This wasn’t your doing, Hashem planned it this way” – we explored how yediyah empowers us in our growth. How it disconnects us from our past mistakes and soothes the despair and self-flagellation that often hold us back.

But yediyah doesn’t just help us let go of our past. It also helps us use the present moment to its fullest.

How?

Just as yediyah teaches us that up to now, it all was Hashem, not us, it opens our eyes to the fact that now, too – whatever “now” holds – it’s only and totally Him, placing a challenge in front of us and urging us to grow.

The rav in our story used his awareness of yediyah in two ways. First, to prevent despair over the mistakes he hadn’t realized he’d been making. Second, to look at his accusing wife and see nothing but Hashem, prompting him to grow and change.

So many of us think of Judaism like school exams. As if we’ve been handed a list of do’s and don’ts, to be graded with checks and x’s. The more checks, the better we do. The more x’s, chas v’shalom, the lower a score we earn.

Which creates a highly disheartening picture in our minds. The Torah’s list of do’s and don’ts is endless, and endlessly demanding. We can’t imagine ever earning enough checks to counterbalance all our x’s.

We might as well give up now.

Yediyah steps in here and saves us. With its emphasis on Hashem’s authority over our past, it shifts the focus away from our scorecard – which isn’t really ours anyway. It reminds us that the only thing that matters is the moment in front of us, and what we choose to make of that opportunity?

A 19th century businessman once turned to Rav Simcha Bunim of Peshishcha with a painful question. He’d become so busy with his business that when he wanted to learn Torah, he had to “steal time.” This troubled him so much that he was contemplating closing his business so he could dedicate a respectable chunk of his schedule to Torah learning.

Rav Bunim answered him by quoting a mishna in Pirkei Avos (2:4): “Al tomar lich’she’efneh eshneh, shema lo tipaneh.” “Don’t say, ‘When I have free time, I’ll learn,’ lest you never have free time.”

“Why assume you can only learn in a state of “lich’she’efneh,” a state of calm and availability?” Rav Bunim asked. “Don’t close your business. ‘Shema lo tipaneh’: maybe Hashem specifically wants you to engage in this struggle – working busily, yet trying to fit in as much learning as you can.”

Hashem isn’t looking for perfect scorecards, Rav Bunim was teaching us. He’s focused on our efforts. Our toil. And, as a result, our development as people, as ovdei Hashem.

Lived an extremely successful life until now? That's incredible – but there's a time and place to remind yourself that ultimately, it was all Hashem's doing.

Struggling with regret because you've accomplished less than you could have? It's important to self-reflect so we can make better decisions going forward. But ultimately, in the present moment, your past isn't what's important.

The only thing that matters right now is whether we take responsibility for the moment at hand. Will we grab the opportunity of the present and make something of it? Or will we let the past falsely dictate how we react right now?

Yes, yediyah and bechira’s side-by-side existence continues to puzzle us. But if we shift our focus from their philosophical role, and put them to use in our growth journeys, we open up a life full of endless opportunities for growth, no inconvenient human strings attached.