THE ART OF STAYING IN YOUR OWN LANE
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THE ART OF STAYING IN YOUR OWN LANE
In Parashat Ki Tetze, we find the mitzvah not to plow with an ox and a donkey together. The reason for this according to the Daat Zekenim Baal Hatosafot is simple yet profound—it’s not fair to the donkey that the ox is chewing its cud while they’re both working. The donkey hears the ox chewing, causing envy, stress, and maybe even a bit of donkey FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). Imagine the donkey, plowing away in the field, pulling this heavy plow and sweating buckets under the sun. All the while, his buddy the ox is next to him, nonchalantly chewing his cud like it’s a five-course meal at a fancy restaurant.
The donkey is trying so hard to focus, but the sound of that chewing? Oh, it’s getting to him. “Seriously? This guy is still chewing? What’s he even eating? Does it never run out? Is there some magical buffet I wasn’t invited to? He’s not even pulling the plow, just standing there like a king while I’m out here breaking my back. Oh, fantastic—another chomp. That’s like the 200th chew. How does he do it? I can barely make my breakfast last five minutes, and this guy’s been at it since sunrise! Is it a grass thing? Am I missing out on some gourmet pasture that I didn’t get the memo about? What’s he got—premium cud? Gluten-free? Organic?! Oh no, here comes that slow chew… that’s the ‘I’m so full but I’m gonna keep eating just because I can’ chew. Disrespectful. Meanwhile, I’m running on empty over here. What I wouldn’t give to be an ox for just one day. I could chew cud and chill, no rush, just chewing and staring into the distance, like some philosophical cow version of a Zen master. But noooo, I’m the donkey! The designated workhorse. ‘Keep pulling, donkey, you’ll get a carrot later.’ Yeah, well, guess what? I’d rather have some cud right now, thank you very much!
“You know what, this isn’t even about the food anymore. It’s the principle. If I have to listen to one more ‘nom-nom-nom’ sound, I’m gonna lose it. Is there a way to mute an ox? Can we get some noise-canceling cud? It’s like he’s taunting me! Oh look, now he’s doing that casual ‘I’m-just-gonna-turn-my-head-slightly-and-keep-chewing’ move. Like I don’t see him! Like I’m not paying attention! Ox, please. I see you. I hear you. And I smell that cud from here. Thanks for rubbing it in. I’m gonna write a formal complaint. ‘Dear Farmer, can we please implement a “chew break” for the ox? Some of us are trying to work, and it’s getting ridiculous out here. Sincerely, The Donkey—who, by the way, is doing all the actual work.’ I bet if I start chewing something, he’ll notice. Yeah, that’ll get him. Just gotta find something… let’s see, this rope? Nope, tastes like old sweat. Dirt? Not ideal….”
Now, if this mitzvah can teach us how to treat animals, what can it teach us about ourselves? Or employees, our children, our students! What can it teach us about how we compare ourselves to others, who seemingly have it better than us? Stop comparing your pace to someone else’s. You each have your own rhythm, and mixing the two will only lead to burnout, frustration, and, dare I say, donkey-level envy. Focus on your field, your own pace. Don’t waste your energy wishing you were chewing cud. Everyone gets their turn.
In the spirit of Elul, the ox and donkey lesson takes on a whole new layer of meaning. Elul is a time of self-reflection and self-improvement, a time of cheshbon hanefesh (soul-accounting)—figuring out where we’re at and where we need to go. But let’s face it, it’s easy to get caught up in looking around at what others are doing: “Oh, she’s so spiritual, he’s already started 40 days of selichot at dawn, and I’m still struggling to wake up for Shacharit on time.”
In Elul, it’s tempting to compare our spiritual journey to others. One person seems to be “chewing their cud,” spiritually satisfied, while we’re still working on plowing through our challenges. In Elul we must remind ourselves that every soul has its own work to do. We can’t compare our unique mission, struggles, or progress to anyone else’s. Spiritual jealousy is counterproductive. Your Elul journey is YOUR journey. Maybe you’re working on waking up earlier, while someone else is focusing on bettering their relationships. It’s okay to be in different places as long as we’re moving forward.
Focus on your own path, find joy in your growth, and most importantly—don’t let anyone else’s cud-chewing moments distract you from your own plowing. By Yom Kippur, you’ll be glad you stayed in your lane, because the real reward comes when we stop comparing and start becoming the best versions of ourselves.
