Talk about lineage. I wonder, did the gadol from whom my family is directly descended think about what his legacy would be? Surely my cousins and such, the pious people who personify sacrifice and total faith in Gd, have upheld it. But did he think about my family in particular? Should someone studying him decide to track down every descendant, would they be surprised or cynically expectant to see how many of us have decided not to carry on this tradition?
The fact that I feel guilty about having such rich heritage and feeling inadequate to uphold it might even be unnecessary. I doubt someone so great would have been thinking about his mark on the world, as so many of us do. Perhaps it was a sign of his greatness. In which case we are blameless, we descendants, following our own dreams and throwing off the burden of pre-existing expectations. Remember, yichus is only a bunch of zeros unless you put a one in front of them! Am I a one? Am I a difference to the nonexistent quantity, the difference that makes it worth so much? Do I want to be? Beyond the point of it being cool, do I really have a different genetic makeup to allow me to be better than my peers? I doubt it. But maybe I do.
At least I’m a woman. Less is expected of me. I have to marry the next son-in-law to carry on the dynasty. What if I choose to defy expectations, something I have put off for so long? My defiance consists of watching movies my mother would not like me to watch, going on websites my mother would not like me to go on. I’m older now, though; should I wish to continue expressing individuality, fight boxes rules impose, it must now be on a larger scale. Do I really want that, though? I enjoy the comfort of being good. No one can touch you when you are good. You are impervious, perfect, unmovable. Perfection may come at a cost, but at least you are not alone: there are people with you, behind you, both alive and dead. Because the dead are unmovable as well.