Hear Our Voice

One of the most Jewish lessons I ever learned came not from a rabbi, but from Stephen Covey, a devout Mormon. Whether his Mormon faith shaped this teaching, I can’t say. But what I can say is that his wisdom has deepened how I live and practice my Jewishness—in my closest circles and in the wider world.

We all live with desires—for things, opportunities, and connections. Let’s call them yearnings. Covey’s framework in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People divides these yearnings into two circles: the Circle of Influence and the Circle of Control.

The Circle of Influence holds the yearnings we can affect: strengthening our bodies through exercise, nurturing bonds by creating time for those we love, and advancing through study and hard work.

The Circle of Control is filled with yearnings we cannot control: how others behave, how others see us, how the world receives us. Except perhaps for our children—sometimes—but otherwise, really we cannot dictate the choices of others.

Here’s the irony: these circles don’t shrink. If we invest energy in our Circle of Influence, it expands, and our impact grows. But if we pour energy into the Circle of Control—into what we can never command—that circle grows as well, consuming more of our time and draining more of our spirit.

Modern life feeds the illusion that happiness comes from likes, hearts, comments, or followers. We bait hooks, curating our lives, our words, even our struggles, so others might deem us worthy. This is the Circle of Control on steroids. The more energy we spend there, the more unfulfilled we feel, because control was never the path to joy.

The Circle of Influence, however, offers a real return on investment. It’s not wrong to crave love, affirmation, or the safety of being seen and valued. Certain relationships do create those expectations. But the how matters.

That’s what the V’ahavta teaches: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” At first glance, it seems impossible to command love. But the text doesn’t stop there. It gives us practices—teach these truths to your children, speak of them daily, post reminders where you’ll see them. Love, in Torah, is not passive. It’s cultivated through action.

And at the end, a warning: remember that God brought us out of Mitzrayim—Egypt, literally “the narrow places.” The Circle of Control is a kind of Mitzrayim. You can work yourself to exhaustion there, yet remain trapped in the same narrow place.

Now, in the month of Elul, as each day draws us closer to a new year, we are invited to examine our yearnings. The key question isn’t what we yearn for, but how we pursue it.

If our strategy is to change others, our Circle of Control will swell, and our yearnings will only frustrate us. But if our strategy is to change how we act, how we respond, and how we steward the cards we’re dealt—then our yearnings have room to blossom. Maybe not exactly as we imagined, but in ways that are real, lasting, and life-giving.

If the RPMs of your brain waves keep getting interrupted by a record scratch that repeats phrases like, “Why me?” or “What about me?” or “When is it my turn?”, you may have fallen into the circle of control. To climb your way out, just try to remember, “It’s always your turn. You just need to remember to take it.” Then reexamine your yearning in terms of what you can actually do – what power is in your own hands already? And as the Nike commercial says, “Just do it.”