By Cailin Acosta in San Diego
As Beth Jacob Congregation’s third session of the “Four Elements of Teshuvah” class began, Brandon Fisher offered a brief review for those who had missed the previous week. Last week’s lesson explored fire as the element of momentum, the force that helps us move forward, redirects our actions and begins making changes. This week, the focus shifted to water, representing emotion, desire and comfort.
The class began with a creative exercise: participants selected two pictures that represented how they were feeling emotionally. Rather than simply describing their feelings, they were encouraged to meditate on the images and consider how they externalized what was happening internally. The exercise offered a different way of visualizing emotions that can sometimes be difficult to put into words.
A “cheat sheet” distributed during class connected the four elements with two different frameworks: the four pillars of trust and the four pillars of teshuvah. The same elements can be viewed through both lenses.
This week’s focus was vidui, the second step in the teshuvah process. Vidui involves confession, acknowledging and putting into words what we have done and what we want to change. Last week’s lesson focused on stopping the behavior itself and redirecting our actions. But simply deciding to stop behavior is not always enough.
Fisher compared this to fire. Fire has momentum. You cannot simply say, “I’m not doing that anymore,” and expect the energy behind a habit to disappear. Secular New Year’s resolutions often fail for the same reason: either we attempt to ignite a new fire without giving it enough fuel, or we try to extinguish an existing fire without redirecting its energy.
The first step, therefore, is about redirecting our actions. With vidui, the process moves inward. It becomes emotional. “Growth feels uncomfortable,” Fisher explained. Making a change can feel difficult precisely because we are creating a new path for ourselves. If fire provides the momentum to move forward, water provides the emotional element needed to cool and transform that momentum.
According to Rambam’s description of the four elements, water is cold and moist, the opposite of fire, which is hot and dry. Water flows downward and adapts to its surroundings. Unlike fire, which can remain contained in separate places, water naturally seeks to come together unless boundaries are established. That makes water an especially useful metaphor for desire and emotion.
The class considered what happens when someone has either too much or too little “water.” An abundance of water can become like a flood or hurricane: there is so much emotion, comfort or desire that a person begins to drown in it. This can manifest as extreme physical indulgence, materialism or an endless pursuit of more.
Fisher pointed to celebrities as an example. Someone who grows up with relatively little and eventually gains access to unlimited luxury can find that having everything does not necessarily produce contentment. Vacations, VIP treatment and material possessions can become an endless cycle: once one has everything, the desire is simply for more.
Another form of excessive water occurs when people absorb other people’s emotions. Becoming overly dependent on another person’s emotional state can cause someone to lose a sense of their own identity. Water without boundaries simply flows together, and without emotional boundaries, one person’s feelings can overwhelm another’s.
A constant need to escape can be another expression of excess water. Always needing to travel, experience something new or get away from one’s current circumstances can prevent a person from finding comfort where they are. Instead of steering the boat, they become like jellyfish carried wherever the tide takes them.
The class jokingly compared this to Crush from Finding Nemo, who happily rides the ocean currents. While that may work for a sea turtle, allowing ourselves to be carried indefinitely by every emotional tide can leave us without direction.
The deficiency of water can be compared to drought. Instead of drowning in excess, there is a constant feeling of not having enough. This can manifest dissatisfaction, unhealthy comparisons and an endless desire for what someone else possesses. A person may feel that they need more to be comfortable or fulfilled, constantly looking at what others have and wishing to become someone else. The class discussed the difficulty of distinguishing this kind of dissatisfaction from other emotional struggles. The important distinction in this framework is that the water element is specifically connected to desire, comfort and emotional fulfillment.
In terms of the four pillars of trust, water represents comfort. When comfort becomes the primary goal, the pursuit can become endless. Physical comforts eventually run out, requiring another purchase, another experience or another source of gratification.
So how can water become constructive rather than destructive? One answer is developing healthy desires and practicing mindfulness. Rather than automatically satisfying every impulse, we can pause and ask ourselves what we need. The example of mindless eating illustrated the point. When someone is distracted while eating, they may continue consuming without paying attention to what their body needs. Mindfulness creates a moment of awareness, a chance to recognize the difference between genuine need and automatic desire.
A photograph discussed in class showed a person sitting peacefully on a pier surrounded by mountains and water. The image represented tranquility: being alone without being lonely and finding the ability to simply be present. Fisher recalled sitting beside Lake Claire while attending UCF and watching the reflection of the clouds on the water. Sometimes, Fisher observed, “you have to look down in order to look up.” Looking at the reflection on the water can provide an opportunity to clear the mind and reconnect with what is above and beyond ourselves.
That idea has a particularly strong connection to Judaism. Water is associated with purification. The mikvah is used for ritual purification, and water can represent a reset, a chance to begin again.
The class also connected water with the blue of the tzitzit. The Torah commands us to place a thread of tekhelet among the fringes, and the traditional symbolism of the blue relates to the sea, the sky and ultimately the divine. Visual progression moves us beyond our immediate physical desires and reminds us to look toward something higher. Rather than following our eyes and hearts wherever they lead, the tzitzit can serve as a reminder to direct our attention toward Hashem.
The key to balancing water is boundaries. “Waves are okay,” Fisher explained. The goal is not to eliminate the natural tides of life, but to learn how to navigate them. A boat can ride a wave without being controlled by it. With a rudder and a vessel, we can respond to changing conditions while still determining where we are going. This became a metaphor for emotional balance. Life naturally moves in cycles. People come and go, routines change, and emotions rise and fall.
Even within a synagogue community, Fisher noted, people sometimes attend regularly for months, disappear for a while, and eventually return. These natural tides are simply part of life. The same is true with children, relationships and personal growth. There are periods when we feel steady and periods when we feel as though we are caught in a wave.
Fisher challenged the familiar metaphor of life as a tunnel, where we simply need to keep moving toward the light at the end. Perhaps life is not a tunnel at all. Maybe there is no roof over us. If we zoom out far enough, we can recognize that we are always surrounded by Hashem’s creation and traveling along Hashem’s path. Even when we cannot see what comes next, we are still exactly where we are supposed to be. The goal is not to eliminate the waves. It is to learn how to ride them.
The class then turned to another important concept: dignity. One of the strongest ways to fight the “water dragon,” the endless pursuit of comfort and desire, is to create an environment that reflects dignity rather than luxury. The distinction is important. Luxury is about having more. Dignity is about recognizing value. Fisher described the image of a ship’s captain. Captains often carry themselves with a particular sense of authority and sophistication, complete with uniforms, ranks and traditions. Even the stereotypical pirate captain is often portrayed in elaborate clothing that communicates importance. The symbolism is fitting: if you are in control of the ship, you are also demonstrating control over where you are going.
The class explored what dignity means. One participant described it as recognizing that something is valuable and treating it accordingly. Another described it as self-worth and the way people carry themselves.
The discussion turned to tzniut, often translated as modesty. Rather than viewing modesty simply as a set of rules about clothing, the class considered it as an expression of internal dignity, the recognition that a person’s value is deeper than external appearance. The idea is not to seek external gratification or allow trends to determine one’s sense of worth. Instead, dignity comes from knowing who you are and allowing others to discover that authentic self.
That concept feels especially relevant in a culture increasingly focused on appearance and constant self-improvement. Fisher recalled seeing a cosmetic-surgery business in a shopping center near Chabad, a reminder of how commercial messages can create the feeling that people of every age need to look a certain way. The challenge presented by the water metaphor is to recognize when desire is steering us, and when we are steering our desires.
Water can drown us, or it can carry us. It can represent endless consumption, or it can provide tranquility. It can leave us drifting without direction, or, when contained and guided, it can carry us toward our destination. The work of teshuvah is learning the difference.
Fisher’s 4 Elements of Teshuvah Series will continue at 8:30 p.m., Tuesday, September 8 at Beth Jacob Congregation. Click here to join the WhatsApp group for more information.
*
Cailin Acosta is the assistant editor of the San Diego Jewish World.