There is a remarkable teaching in the Mishnah:
לְפִיכָךְ כָּל אֶחָד וְאֶחָד חַיָּב לוֹמַר: בִּשְׁבִילִי נִבְרָא הָעוֹלָם
"Therefore, every single person is obligated to say: The world was created for me."
I want us to pause for a moment.
Really pause.
Take ten seconds and think about those words.
The world was created for me.
It may be one of the most beautiful sentences our Sages ever taught us. And it may also be one of the most dangerous.
Because everything depends on how we understand the words "for me."
Does "the world was created for me" mean that the world owes me something?
That life should work out according to my plans?
That my family should behave the way I want, that my children should become who I imagined they would become, that my livelihood should come easily, that my health should always be good, and that Hashem should arrange the world according to my expectations?
Or perhaps בשבילי נברא העולם means exactly the opposite.
Perhaps it means:
If the world was created for me, then I am responsible for it.
I remember when I first got married and suddenly moved into my own home.
Until then, a home was simply a place you lived. If something broke, somehow it got fixed. If there was a problem, somehow someone dealt with it.
And suddenly, you are standing there with the keys in your hand.
The walls need painting. The toilet isn't working properly. The doorbell is broken. Something is leaking.
And for the first time you realize:
There is no one else coming.
I am the baal habayit now.
If the plumbing is broken, I have to fix it. Maybe I know how. Maybe I need to call someone. Maybe I have no idea where to begin. But one thing has changed forever:
It is my responsibility.
And perhaps that is what Hashem is whispering to us every Rosh Hashanah.
Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of the creation of Adam. Hashem creates this extraordinary universe, the mountains and oceans, the flowers growing from the earth, the stars above us, the air we breathe, the people we love, an entire world of possibility.
And then He places Adam in the middle of it.
Almost as if He hands him the keys.
Here.
בשבילך נברא העולם
This is yours now.
Not yours to consume.
Yours to take responsibility for.
And that distinction changes everything.
Because there are two ways to live our lives.
We can sit on the couch of life and ask:
Why did Hashem give me this house?
Why is this broken?
Why don't I have enough money?
Why am I struggling with this child?
Why is my marriage difficult?
Why don't I look like that person?
Why wasn't I born into different circumstances?
Why did Hashem give me this challenge?
And sometimes those questions are real. Sometimes they hurt terribly. Sometimes there are no simple answers.
But at some point, another question has to emerge:
What am I going to do about it?
Maybe I cannot change everything.
Maybe I did not create the problem.
Maybe I did not choose the circumstances.
But Hashem handed me the keys.
And now I have to ask:
What part of this world is mine to repair?
That is the enormous tension contained inside the words בשבילי נברא העולם.
If I place myself at the center of the universe because I believe everything revolves around me, that is ego.
But if I place myself at the center because I understand that everything around me demands something from me, that is responsibility.
If I see injustice, I ask what I can do.
If I see someone hurting, I ask how I can help.
If something in my family is broken, I ask how I can begin repairing it.
If something inside of me is broken, I stop waiting for someone else to fix me and begin doing the work.
And I don't always have to know the answer.
Sometimes responsibility simply begins with the courage to say:
I don't know how to fix this yet. But I am going to try.
That, perhaps, is the beginning of teshuvah.
Because before we can say אשמנו, before we can change, before we can repair anything, we first have to accept ownership.
The Rambam writes something extraordinary when speaking about teshuvah and the shofar of Rosh Hashanah.
A person must imagine himself as perfectly balanced between merit and guilt, and imagine the entire world balanced together with him.
One action.
One mitzvah.
One decision.
And, says the Rambam, he can tip himself and the entire world toward merit.
What an unbelievable way to see a human being.
Hashem is telling us:
You matter that much.
Your words matter.
The way you speak to your spouse matters.
The way you look at your child matters.
The way you conduct your business matters.
The person you choose to forgive matters.
The apology you have been avoiding matters.
The phone call you make matters.
The extra five minutes of Torah matter.
The moment you control your anger matters.
The person nobody else notices whom you choose to notice matters.
Because בשבילי נברא העולם.
The world is dependent on what I choose to do with it.
Perhaps that is the struggle of every human being.
There is a part of us that wants to shrink into our own ד׳ אמות, into our frustrations, our fears, our excuses and our ego.
And there is another part of us, the divine part Hashem breathed into us, that knows that we were created to build worlds.
To repair worlds.
To take responsibility for worlds.
So as we enter Rosh Hashanah, I want to bless all of us with a year of responsibility.
A year in which we think a little more carefully about the words we say.
A year in which we think about the way we act.
A year in which, instead of always asking what others could do differently, we first ask:
What can I do a little better?
A year in which we take responsibility for ourselves, for our families, for our communities, for Am Yisrael and, ultimately, for the world Hashem placed into our hands.
And may all the blessings of this past year not be the culmination of what we have achieved, but merely the starting point for everything still to come.
May Hashem bless us with the ability to open our eyes and see the extraordinary world He has given us.
And may He give us the courage to realize that when He gave us this world, He also entrusted us with the responsibility to make it better.
בשבילי נברא העולם
Not because the world owes me everything.
Because I owe something to the world.
Shabbat Shalom and Shanah Tovah U'Metukah Rav Shlomo