Shluchim people, hear my cry!

I understand that I may have been a bit harsh yesterday to people who have returned to this, the faith of our fathers. If I did, I would like to say that I'm intensely sorry.

One of the most enjoyable things to say to a child of baalei teshuvah is the Kotzker Rebbe's explanation of why tzaddikim can't stand in the place of baalei teshuvah. This statement is generally taken to mean that by types are incredibly high, exalted above even the greatest
righteous types. The Kotzker said, "You know why they can't stand there? Because it smells so bad."

Typically, children of repentant sorts will grab whatever is nearest (for the convenience, of course) and attempt to make violent contact with mine body. This is generally why I only repeat this particular statement when in a padded room, or alternatively zal. Once I explain where I'm coming from (not that I quite understand it myself), I repeat the statement of R' Hillel Poritcher, or maybe it was R' Isaac Homler, about their view of baalei teshuvah. Basically, whichever one of was didn't trust them; after all, that they sinned he knew for sure, but their repentance? Only G-d knows that.
By this time I'm usually in full flight, pursued by thousands of crazed repentants. Before the comment box has a similar vibe going, let me just say that I don't necessarily believe everything I wrote above. So why did I write it, and why do I say it? Simple. Because I can.

All right, the answer is slightly more intelligent than that. See, I have this thing of exposing people to other viewpoints. I don't think this is necessarily a good thing, and I generally do it more to my own entertainment than anything, but it is what it is.

The truth, according to Garth, is that baalei teshuvah completely and utterly rock the house. So why didn't I wish to appear like one? Because it's disconcerting, and even more so, because it makes me feel like I'm being patronized. It's like walking into your office one day, and instead of treating you like an employee, everyone acts as if you're a guest. "What is going on," you wonder, "have I been fired, or is everyone on acid, or what?" That feeling, that odd and sinking pull you experience in your stomach as you slowly realize that something is horribly wrong; you know what I'm saying? Being treated like a visitor is fine for visitors, but or an employee, it's certainly not Best Day Ever. A BT would be treated differently than fresh fodder off the street, of course, but as a bochur, I'm used to operating in an entirely different manner. When bochurim are at a Chabad house, they're there because they've been brought out to help in some capacity, not because they want to be helped. Even when I tried to help, my efforts were kindly rebuffed. My soul cried out, "Please, let me help in the kitchen, the sanctuary, something!" And the response, kindly intentioned and kindly expressed, "Please, have a seat, make yourself at home." "But," my soul continues to bleat, "this is how I make myself at home!" And no one heard my plaintive cry.Um, yeah, it wasn't quite that melodramatic, and I see opportunity for entertainment if the situation perseveres, but I just thought you should understand a little from where I'm coming.