It Ain't Necessarily So

During Monday's Mussar class, we discussed gratitude, the trait on which we had been working for the previous two weeks. The Mussar masters suggest the virtue of being alive to the possibility of good as an outcome of misfortune. Our text, Alan Morinis's Everyday Holiness, provides several examples of misfortune leading to good outcomes, one of which stems from his own experience. The failure of his high-flying business plunged him into a depression, which ultimately led him to a rabbi who was an adept at Mussar. As a consequence of the rabbi's teaching, Morinis became a prominent popularizer of Mussar in the United States, a move which has led to a flourishing and productive career.

He gives a far less convincing example. A Holocaust survivor emigrated to Uruguay, where he became a rich manufacturer. His factory produced what he had learned to make in a Nazi concentration camp: soap. To many of us, this example seemed obscene, testifying to the possibility of human resilience rather than to the possibility of finding good as an outcome of evil. Our instructor, calling this example "over the top," asked us if anyone could give another example from his or her own experience.

Only one participant offered an example. She had worked for an organization that, after many years, transferred her to another branch, which required commuting two hours in each direction. The disagreeable commute made her reevaluate her work, which had remained much the same but which she now realized was neither fulfilling nor enjoyable nor, in her view, socially useful. After reviewing with her husband their financial situation, she decided to take early retirement, which would permit her to pursue volunteer work and her own interests. Although she and her husband would have to give up some luxuries, she would be happier, and as a consequence, so would he. Had she been able to continue at her former location, where the commute was easy and her colleagues agreeable, she would probably have remained there for many more years, never seeing how little satisfaction her work was giving her.

Although I didn't volunteer a personal example, I too have found good as an outcome of misfortune. Structural problems in my bronchial system cause me to suffer from chronic bronchitis. Because of it, I've missed numerous performances for which we had secured tickets well in advance, to say nothing of canceled dinner parties and other missed social engagements. I've had bronchitis all over the world, including China, South Africa, India, Ethiopia, and California. Because I've been so often away from home when sick, I've had to consult unfamiliar doctors, each of whom gave me, in our initial meeting, a thorough physical examination. One of them prescribed a procedure that discovered a large malignant tumor in my colon. We were able to remove it before it spread. Another doctor, in the course of his examination, found an aneurysm, which could then be repaired. Both of these conditions were potentially fatal and might never have come to light had I not been sick away from home so often.

Yes, misfortunes can lead to good outcomes, but that's not inevitable. To regard the Holocaust as bringing any good whatsoever seems dangerously close to adopting a Panglossian view that all's for the best in this best of all possible worlds. It ain't necessarily so.