What’s the number one fear among Americans? You might think it’s spiders—that’s definitely in the top 10. Or maybe death? Surprisingly, that only comes in at number two.
The number one fear? Public speaking.
Yes, more people fear getting up in front of an audience than they do facing their own mortality. Comedian Jerry Seinfeld even joked that at a funeral, most people would rather be in the casket than delivering the eulogy. That’s how powerful the fear of public speaking is.
And yet, public speaking is something so many people have to do. Whether it’s a presentation at work, a toast at a wedding, or even just speaking up in a meeting, we’re constantly faced with moments where we have to put ourselves out there. So why is it so terrifying?
At its core, the fear of public speaking isn’t just about standing on a stage—it’s about the fear of failure. The fear of messing up in front of others. The fear of looking foolish. The fear that we won’t be good enough.
As a rabbi, I can tell you that public speaking wasn’t something I naturally knew how to do. Rabbinical school teaches you how to write sermons—how to structure them, outline them, and edit drafts—but it doesn’t teach you how to deliverthem. I had to learn that on my own. And one of the best ways I learned? Watching stand-up comedians.
Now, comedians know a thing or two about failure. Every comic, no matter how successful, has bombed. In fact, they expect to bomb at some point. The best advice comedians give each other? “Bomb early and bomb often.”
This brings me to one of the most controversial, raunchy, over-the-top stand-up comedians of all time: Andrew Dice Clay. Love him or hate him, he did something fascinating. One night, he intentionally went on stage and bombed—flat delivery, no prepared jokes, just talking for an hour and a half. And then, he released an album of the performance, calling it The Day the Laughter Died.
And here’s the crazy thing: People actually enjoyed it.
Why? Because there’s something powerful about embracing failure. It’s real. It’s raw. It’s human. And, most importantly, it’s part of the process of becoming great.
The Art of Failing Forward
There’s a lesson here, not just for comedians, but for all of us: failure isn’t the end—it’s part of the process. In fact, the people who become the best at what they do are often the ones who have failed the biggest along the way.
We see this not just in comedy but in business, sports, and leadership.
Take, for example, a famous story from IBM in the 1960s. An employee made a massive mistake that cost the company $10 million—a fortune at the time. He walked into the CEO’s office, resignation letter in hand, fully expecting to be fired.
But the CEO stopped him and said, “Fire you? I just spent $10 million on your education!”
Think about that for a second. The CEO saw the mistake not as a disaster, but as an investment—a $10 million lesson that would make this employee better in the future.
That mindset—understanding that failure is not just something to avoid, but something to embrace and learn from—is what separates those who succeed from those who give up.
The reality is that failure is a requirement for success. Every single great leader, innovator, and trailblazer has failed.Not just once. Not just twice. But over and over again.
Why? Because failure builds resilience.
It forces us to reevaluate, adjust, and grow. It teaches us what doesn’t work so we can get closer to what does. And perhaps most importantly, it reminds us that we are human, that perfection is a myth, and that mistakes are not just acceptable—they are necessary.
Aaron, the High Priest, and the Power of Redemption
This idea isn’t just a modern concept—it’s deeply rooted in Jewish tradition.
Consider Aaron, the first High Priest of Israel. What qualified him for this role? You might say nepotism—he was Moses’ brother, after all. But that’s not the real reason.
Aaron was involved in one of the biggest screw-ups in Jewish history: the Golden Calf.
When the Israelites feared Moses was gone, they turned to Aaron. Instead of guiding them toward faith and patience, Aaron gave in to the pressure. He took their gold, melted it down, and helped create an idol—breaking at least one, if not multiple, of the Ten Commandments. This was a monumental failure, referenced throughout the Torah as Israel’s great sin.
And yet, Aaron is later appointed as the High Priest.
Why? Because his mistakes didn’t disqualify him—they prepared him.
Aaron understood failure. He understood what it meant to fall short. And that made him a better leader, one who could guide people not from a place of perfection, but from experience. He could relate to the struggles of the people because he himself had stumbled.
In Judaism, we have a saying from the Passover Haggadah:
“Matzchil b’gnut u’misayem b’shevach”—We begin with our disgrace and end with our praise.
This applies not just to the Exodus story, but to personal growth as well. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about recognizing our failures, learning from them, and using them as stepping stones toward something greater.
The Call to Take Risks
Wouldn’t it be nice if I just said, “Mistakes are okay, don’t worry about it”? But that’s not what I’m saying.
I’m saying: Make mistakes on purpose.
Take risks. Put yourself in uncomfortable situations. Try things you might fail at—because that’s the only way you’ll ever grow.
Andrew Dice Clay didn’t just bomb—he embraced bombing. He turned failure into an art form. He intentionally stood on stage and did the thing that most comedians fear the most. And in doing so, he became better.
The most successful people in the world aren’t the ones who played it safe. They’re the ones who failed, learned, and failed forward.
So here’s my challenge to you:
Go out there. Mess up. Make mistakes. Learn from them.
And most importantly—keep going.
Because your failures might just be the very thing that makes you great.