Britain's Chief Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks explains the shalshelet as follows:
"The Torah does not have a word for ambivalence...it does, however, have a tune for it. This is the rare note known as the shalshelet. It appears three times in Bereishith, each time at a moment of crisis for the individual concerned...The agent is called on to make a choice, one on which his whole future will depend, but he finds that he cannot. He is torn between two alternatives, both of which exercise a powerful sway on him. He must resolve the dilemma one way or another, but either way will involve letting go of deeply felt temptations or deeply held aspirations. It is a moment of high psychological drama."
Two weeks ago we heard the shalshelet when Lot hesitated before fleeing Sodom, which was destined for destruction. This past week, the shalshelet appeared when Abraham's servant, Eliezer, asked Hashem to provide him with a very specific sign regarding which woman would be the suitable wife for Isaac (one interpretation is that Eliezer secretly wanted his own daughter to marry Isaac, and so he was ambivalent about finding another woman to fill that role). There is also a shalshelet in the Joseph narrative, when he refused the temptation to sleep with Potiphar's wife. The final example of the shalshelet comes when Moshe inagurates his brother Aaron and Aaron's sons as the Kohanim (High Priests), roles he wished he and his own sons could fulfill. In each of these instances, the person involved feels an intense pull between two conflicting options--what he thinks or wishes is, and what actually is. The resulting cognitive dissonance leads each man to wrestle with his decision; it is this struggle that the shalshelet represents.
The idea that ambivalence has always been a part of our collective history is something to which I really relate. I honestly don't think I've ever been more ambivalent about anything than I was about recovery. I really wanted to believe that the eating disorder was the glue holding me together, when the reality was that it was actually preventing me from being a fully functional human being. On the one hand was the deeply ingrained and immediately satisfying pattern of restriction and self-punishment; on the other hand was the Big Picture Truth: if I wanted to be able to truly experience life, to be open to joy and connection, then I had to get rid of anorexia. Either way, I had to give up something and stood to gain something else. The question was, which was the better bargain?
Through the shalshelet, the Torah teaches that ambivalence has always been part of even the greatest individuals (I mean, can I really hope to do better than Moshe Rabbeinu?). However, although it might be tempting (and easy) to lean into our less-than-healthy patterns, the goal is for us to keep our eyes on the big picture and ask ourselves, "Is this really going to lead me to my best self?" Feeling ambivalent is not inherently bad. The key is to ultimately make choices that lead us in the direction that our core selves--and Hashem--want us to go.
I always feel validated and reassured when I recognize in Biblical figures some of the same insecurities and struggles that I myself experience. Rabbi Mois Navon beautifully sums this up when he says,
"There exists a tendency to take for granted the greatness of our exalted paragons, however in doing so we often lose what is really to be gained from having such noble models. It is not from looking up to their perfection that we learn from their example, but in examining their path and their struggle to that perfection that we stand to gain the most. And it is only by maintaining an ever attentive ear to every nuance of our heritage, as profoundly demonstrated by the shalshelet, that we stand to reap all of its didactic rewards."
I wish for all of us the awareness to recognize our own "choice points" and to consciously make decisions that lead us down the paths we are truly meant to take.
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