Overcoming the Dangers of Intense Religiosity (pt. 3)

Overcoming the Dangers of
Intense Religiosity (pt. 3)

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

Earlier (pts. 1 and pt. 2), we explained the phenomenon of well-meant, otherwise worthy religious feelings being “hijacked” and being expressed in a counter-productive, even harmful manner.

Now for the big question: How does one avoid falling into this trap?

One root cause of spirituality going awry is the lack of the proper foundation of one’s service of Hashem.

To serve Hashem properly it is not enough to eschew hedonism, to think constantly about Hashem, to be spiritual, and to love Hashem. It is not even enough to fear Him. The same goes for fulfilling the Mitzvos that relate to the sphere of interactions with other people: It is not enough for a religious person to be generous and hospitable, to be humble and forgiving, to be devoted and tireless in serving one’s community. 

Yes, these are all important and even vital elements of a deep, personal relationship with Hashem. Yet all of them can go awry, so none of them comprise the very foundation of one’s relationship with Hashem.

The beginning and foundation of serving Hashem is very (and perhaps even deceptively) simple: Kabolas ol Malchus Shomayim, submission to the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven.[1] This means that one is in a state of constant submission, such that all one’s behavior is part of serving Hashem, and is done with the intention of following His wishes.

With regard to emotional expression, this means that no emotion or desire, however worthy it may otherwise be, should be expressed exclusively because one feels that way.

Rather, even if the emotion coursing through one’s heart is fully appropriate, one should be conscious of its inner core. This very emotion is part of serving Hashem, for through it one fulfills a divine command—the command to feel certain feelings.

For Torah and halacha direct us not only in our actions, but also in proper thoughts and feelings, in “chovos halevavos—duties of the heart.” In this case, not only is it worthy to love and fear Hashem, but in so doing, we fulfill explicit divine commands[2] (which are, in fact, Biblical obligations no less binding than the obligation to keep Shabbos or kosher): “Love Hashem, your G–d”[3] and “Fear Hashem, your G–d.”[4]

This holds true not only for spontaneous, gut feelings (which are much more likely to be hijacked in the manner described above), but even for feelings that emerged, as they should, from a process of study, comprehension, and hisbonenus (“contemplation” or “meditation”). For intellect, emotions, and the (very worthy) process of intellect producing emotions all depend upon the firm foundation of Kabolas ol Malchus Shomayim for their success.

When a Jew’s life is based on this foundation, his entire relationship with Hashem is stable and strong, and then he is able to attain success in his spiritual strivings in all areas and on all levels[5]—intellect, emotions, and thought, speech, and action. Moreover, it ultimately also paves the way for Hashem’s blessings for material prosperity.

If, however, one gets carried away with a passion for a holy pursuit (in whatever area), but lacks the awareness that this feeling is not just self-expression, but a part of serving Hashem and fulfilling a divine command, then no matter how worthy and holy the passion, this person is at high risk. This passion may well devolve into inappropriate feelings and behavior, as explained in the previous posts in this series.

Thus, we find how Nadav and Avihu, who yearned to serve Hashem on a high level, were so intent on their desire to offer up the incense in the Mishkan that they did so when they were not supposed to. They then “came too close to Hashem, and died.”[6] The reason this happened was that their passion to come close to Hashem lacked kabolas ol Malchus Shomayim, the simultaneous desire to submit to Him, and so it ended tragically. Let us not make the same mistake.

Adapted from the Rebbe's Sichos Kodesh 5723, p. 54.

Read this essay in full on Scribd here!

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[1] Cf. Tanya beg. ch. 41.

[2] These are counted in the Six Constant Mitzvos binding on men and women equally, as enumerated in the introduction to Sefer HaChinuch.

[3] Devarim 6:5.

[4] Ibid. 6:13.

[5] Cf. Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 1, pp. 104-105.

[6] Vayikra 12:1; Ohr HaChaim ad loc.

Dedicated by Reb Yisrael Meir Raphael and family.

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Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Yechidah: Suprarational stubbornness

Yechidah: Suprarational stubbornness

Rabbi Y. Oliver

The Jew’s bond with Hashem at the soul-level of Yechidah transcends intellect completely, even the intellect of the Divine Soul.

The Yechidah is also known as the “eisan of the soul.”[1] The word eisan means firm, for this level is firm and unyielding to any force that might separate the Jew from Hashem, G–d forbid. Of this stubbornness to obey Hashem the Jewish people are called “a stiff-necked nation”[2] in the positive sense.[3]

In the Hoshanos liturgy,[4] it is written: “It embraces and is attached to You, it carries Your yoke, the Yechidah to unite You.” This alludes to the qualities of the soul-level of Yechidah:

• “It embraces and is attached to You”: The core of every Jew, no matter who he may be, is connected to Hashem’s very Essence. This expresses itself in the Jewish custom to constantly thank and otherwise refer to Hashem, such as by saying “boruch Hashem.”[5]

• “It carries Your yoke”: Regardless of his external behavior, the Jew’s Yechidah naturally submits to and “carries” the yoke of observance of Torah and Mitzvos.

• “The Yechidah to unite with You”: On this level, the bond with Hashem is so deep that the Jew is even willing to give up his life rather than sin.[6] Of this the Alter Rebbe taught: “A Jew neither desires, nor is able, to sever himself from G–dliness.”[7] 

(For one way to reveal the Yechidah, see here.)

Based on the Previous Rebbe’s Ma’amar Hachodesh hazeh lachem 5685, pp. 16-17.

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[1] Sefer HaMa’amarim 5703, p. 73 ff. Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 3, p. 335.

[2] Shemos 34:9.

[3] Shemos Rabbah 42:9, cited in Torah Ohr, Megillas Esther 123b.

[4] As recited on the third day of Sukkos.

[5] “Shem Shomayim shagur befi kol.” Cf. Ma’amarei Admur HaZaken 5565, Vol. 1, p. 12. Sha’arei Teshuvah, Vol. 1 8b.

[6] Tanya chs. 18, 19, 24.

[7] Hayom Yom p. 73.

Dedicated by Reb Shmuel Leib and Sara Rochel Markel in honor of the birth of their daughter, Yehudis bas Shmuel Leib. Yegadluha leTorah, lechuppah, ulemaasim tovim mitoch harchavah!

Dedicated in the merit of a speedy release for the captives Yonasan ben Malka (Jonathan Pollard), Jacob Ostreicher (Yaakov Yehuda ben Shaindel), Alan Gross (Aba Chonah ben Hava Chana), Sholom Mordechai Halevi ben Rivka (Sholom Rubashkin), and Zeva Rochel bas Chaya (Wendy Weiner Runge).

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Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Obeying the Rebbe

Obeying the Rebbe

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

The Previous Rebbe related the following story:

The Rebbe Maharash had two chassidim: The first would start “from below to above,” while the second would start “from above to below.” The first would start with action. He did everything in actuality, with self-sacrifice, and then the understanding would come. The second began with the understanding, and the action only followed later.

Once the Alter Rebbe sent a messenger to these two chassidim to ask them for money. The messenger came to the one whose divine service was “from below to above,” and told him, “The Rebbe needs money.” “How much?” the chossid asked. “The Rebbe didn’t say,” the messenger replied. The chossid gathered all the money he owned, and gave it to the messenger.

Then the messenger went to the second chossid, to the one whose divine service was “from above to below,” and told him, “The Rebbe needs money.” “How much?” the chossid asked. “The Rebbe didn’t say,” the messenger replied. “I’ll travel to Liozna, and ask the Rebbe how much I should give, and I will give.”

The messenger returned to the Alter Rebbe, and placed on the table the sum of money that he had gathered. “Where is the money of the other chossid?” the Alter Rebbe asked. The messenger related that chossid’s answer.

The Alter Rebbe became lost in thought, and said: “Before the deed, or afterwards?”

The next morning, the first chossid came to Liozna, went in to greet the Alter Rebbe, and the Alter Rebbe told him: “You need to leave the place in which you are living.” The first chossid returned home—he had not yet prayed the morning prayer—sold all his possessions, took his family, and left behind the city in which he lived, even though he didn’t know his destination. Still, if the Rebbe said to travel, he had to travel.

The second chossid work up in the morning, and thought, “Why should I travel before prayer? I will pray, and then at 11 am, I will travel to the Rebbe.

In the meantime, a large wind broke out, lightning flashed, and burned down the entire street. Only with difficulty did the second chossid manage to save his family.

After relating this story, the Rebbe Maharash added. These are two different kinds of obedience. They both obeyed, but the first one obeyed immediately, while the second would first consider the matter carefully (“yishuv ha’daas”), and then act.

After retelling this story, the Previous Rebbe added: “One must study this story and feel its content. This is just as important as Chassidus. Just as one toils to understand Chassidus, so must one toil to obey.”

Sefer HaMa’amarim 5710, pp. 193-194.

The lesson from this story is very clear. Some imagine that since the path of Chabad means understanding everything one does according to Chassidus, the focus of a chossid must be cerebral and not action-oriented. And so when the Rebbe issues a directive, such a person will reflect upon it in his intellect first, and do the action later on.

In fact, the reverse is the case: For a true Chabad chossid, when the Rebbe issues a directive, the first thing on his mind should be action. His question should not be “what exactly is the profound reason behind this?” but “How can I carry out the Rebbe’s instructions as soon as possible, and as fully as possible?” Only once the job is complete can the chossid stop to reflect upon the significance of the directive according to Nigleh, Chassidus, and so on.`

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Dedicated in the merit of a speedy release for the captives Yonasan ben Malka (Jonathan Pollard), Sholom Mordechai Halevi ben Rivka (Sholom Rubashkin), and Zeva Rochel bas Chaya (Wendy Weiner Runge).


Also dedicated by Braunstein and Rona families for Shlomo ben Pesach on 8 Sivan.



Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Meraglim: Inappropriate Fear of Tests

Meraglim: Inappropriate Fear of Tests

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

The spies were the emissaries of the generation of the desert, and they were the Nesi’im, the leaders of their respective tribes. Thus, when they refused to enter the Land, this reflected on the level of their generation—the entire generation did not want to enter Eretz Yisrael.

What was the complaint of the generation of the desert? Why did they not want to enter the Land? Chassidus, as is typical, explains their refusal to enter on a deeper level than the peshat, the basic level of understanding. They were on a very advanced spiritual level, and they had a very profound reason, but they erred in their assessment because they lacked Kabbolas Ol—submission to the divine yoke, and this is the reason that they were so harshly punished.

They didn’t want to enter the land because they feared the detrimental effect that it would have upon them.

First, in the desert, they were enveloped in a cocoon of sublime holiness. They were eating the mon, drinking water from Miriam’s well, and being protected by the Clouds of Glory. They could not bring themselves to tear themselves away from this blissful, pure state, and enter the land of Canaan, where they would fall from their spiritual high.

Second, they were afraid of being tested. One test was related to Hashem’s instruction to observe the Shemitah year by letting the soil lie fallow: Hashem had instructed the Jewish people to enter the Land and “Let the Land rest for Hashem as a Shabbos; for six years sow your fields, and for six years prune your vineyards and gather their crops.”[1]

To act with the appropriate bitachon, trust, in Hashem,[2] and not work the Land, required tremendous self-sacrifice, and they did not want to enter such a test.

And even during the other six years, the Jewish people knew that they would have to work the soil, and they were afraid that lowering themselves to this mundane, physical task, and being so preoccupied with materialistic concerns might lead them astray from devotion to spirituality and Hashem.

Why is descending into the realm of the physical so spiritually dangerous? Because it involves getting “down and dirty” in enemy territory—the territory of Kelipah. One gets involved with Kelipas Nogah in order to refine it, and one comes into contact with Sholosh Kelipos Hatemei’os in order to reject it.

According to valid, Torah-based, holy calculations, their reluctance to engage in this activity had validity, and in a sense, it even stemmed from their humility. They were reluctant to enter into a situation in which their devotion to Hashem would be tested. For when you fight against a formidable enemy, you might very well lose. As we beseech Hashem in our prayers, “lead us not to temptation”[3]—and if one genuinely asks Hashem not to put oneself in such circumstances, one will surely not do so of one’s own initiative.

Now, even if one has sinned, all is not lost—ultimately, every Jew will do Teshuvah.[4] However, this is important to remind ourselves of after sin occurs, but we must never allow that awareness to detract from our fear of sin. Firstly, it is inherently wrong to sin, even if one does Teshuvah afterward, [5] for one severs one’s soul from Hashem.[6] Moreover, one has no way of knowing when one will do Teshuvah. One might not even end up doing Teshuvah in one’s lifetime, leaving one’s poor, suffering soul to do Teshuvah in a future incarnation,[7] or only after Moshiach comes. (The tremendous divine revelation of the time of Moshiach will make the Neshamah very embarrassed at being “caught” with the stains of sins for which the person has not done Teshuvah.)

This is why the generation of the desert reported that in the Land they saw the Nefilim, lit., “the fallen ones.”[8] These were angels that had fallen from the higher spiritual realms,[9] and observing this led the members of that generation to believe that by descending to refine a low level, they too might fall drastically in their spiritual level.

But although the fear of being led into temptation has validity, Moshe Rabeinu—who was Hashem’s spokesperson, as it is written, “The Shechinah speaks from his throat”[10]—instructed them to enter the land regardless, in order to engage in the task of refining the sparks of holiness in the material world. This was Hashem’s desire, as Yehoshua and Calev said of entering the Land, “If Hashem desires us.”[11]

And since this is what Hashem desired, even a well-meaning person who refused to obey because of the above concern was considered to be rebelling against Hashem, may G–d save us. This is the meaning of the verse, “Only, do not rebel against Hashem...”[12] Refusing to enter the Land, even on account of an otherwise legitimate concern, constitutes rebellion against Hashem’s desires.

Moreover, Moshe sought to bring them to grasp this intellectually by telling them: “The Land is very, very good.”[13] This implies that by entering the Land and working it, one connects to a level even higher than that revealed at the beginning of the creation, before the sin, when “The world was created whole,”[14] for then it was only written “very good” once,[15] while by descending into the Land, which represents the material world, one comes ultimately to an even higher level—“very, very good,” which refers to an incomparably higher spiritual level.[16]

The reason for this is that the higher the source of the spark, the further down it falls,[17] and so when we occupy ourselves with the lowly, physical world, we refine these exceedingly lofty sparks of holiness. By faithfully performing the task required on the lowly level, we reveal the true reality of the lofty source of the sparks that lie there.

This is why it was not enough to serve Hashem in the desert—they had to enter the land of Canaan, which was a low, degenerate land, and serve Hashem there and thereby bring holiness into it, making it into a holy land, and in this way they refined the sparks there.

We find a parallel concept in our divine service. There are two different kinds of souls:[18] those of Torah scholars, and of businesspeople.[19] Torah scholars correspond to the generation of the desert, whose main task was not refining sparks of holiness, while businesspeople correspond to the generation that entered the Land, whose main task was to refine sparks of holiness.

And yet, each one must engage in the other’s divine service as well. In the context of this article, it is noteworthy that Torah scholars should also give some amount of money to charity, albeit a very small amount.[20] True, the Torah study and prayer of Torah scholars also refines sparks of holiness, and on the contrary, for the Torah scholars, refining these sparks is their main task in the world. However, since the sparks in the physical stem from an even higher source, even Torah scholars must give some charity, in order to refine at least some of these sparks.

Based on the Rebbe's Hisva’aduyos 5746, Vol. 2, p. 626 ff.

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[1] Vayikra 25:2-4.
[2] Vayikra Rabbah 1:1.
[3] Morning blessings. Cf. Berachos 60b.
[4] II Shmuel 14:14.
[5] Tanya ch. 25.
[6] Ibid. ch. 24.
[7] Shulchan Aruch Admur HaZakein, Laws of Torah Study, 4:3. Tanya, end ch. 39.
[8] Bamidbar 13:33.
[9] Yalkut Shimoni, Bereshis, 44. Cf. Pirkei DeRebbi Elazar ch. 22, Bereshis Rabbah, end ch. 26.
[10] Cf. Mechilta, Shemos 19:19.
[11] Bamidbar 14:9.
[12] Ibid. 14:8.
[13] Ibid. 14:7.
[14] Bereshis Rabba 14:7.
[15] Bereshis 1:31.
[16] Sefer HaMa’amarim 5567, p. 235.
[17] Likkutei Torah, Re’ei, 12a ff.
[18] Tanya 109a.
[19] Bereshis Rabbah 99:9. Rashi on Bereshis 49:13. Devarim 33:18.
[20] Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh Dei’ah 248:1. If one gives less than a third of a shekel to charity in the course of a year, one has not fulfilled the Mitzvah of giving charity.


Dedicated by Reb Yisrael Meir Rafael and family.

Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Self-sacrifice: Essence and permanence

(This post comes in continuation to the posts here, here, and here.)

How did the Maccabees respond to the influence of the Greeks, who desired to entice them to sin?

To preface, our sages say, “Dovid and Shlomo were anointed with a horn, and their kingdom continued. Sha’ul and Yehu were anointed with a jar, and their kingdom did not continue.”[1]

Chassidus explains[2] that the horn, which is above the head, represents serving Hashem with bittul and suprarational self-sacrifice, and this mode of divine service stems from the very essence of the Neshamah. Since Dovid and Shlomo displayed this self-sacrifice, their kingdom “continued,” i.e., it lasted in a permanent, eternal way, akin to a horn, which is solid and lasting. For since the essence of the Neshamah transcends change, by tapping into this energy, one brings permanence and eternity into one’s own divine service.

In contrast, Sha’ul personified Binah, understanding, for he had attained a sublime level of intellectual greatness. Now, of course intellect is vital in the service of Hashem; in particular, “The mind dominates over the heart.”[3] However, intellectual study only connects one with a level of G–dliness that is subject to change, and so Sha’ul’s kingdom did not last.

The difference between the kingdoms of Dovid and Sha’ul was not only apparent after time, once Hashem decreed that the kingdom of Dovid and Shlomo would last eternally,[4] while the kingdom of Sha’ul and Yehu ceased. Rather, the difference between their kingdoms was recognizable from the outset: Sha’ul and Yehu’s kingdom was based on reason and intellect, and therefore its end was inevitable, while the kingdom of Dovid and Shlomo was based on bittul and self-sacrifice, and therefore it was immediately apparent that it was destined to last.

This was the Maccabees’ response to the Greeks’ demand, “Write for yourselves on the horn of an ox that you have no portion in the G–d of Israel.”[5] Seeing that the Greeks sought to degrade the Jewish people to the “horn” of unholiness, as explained in the previous post, the Maccabees realized that they must respond in kind, with the “horn” as it exists in the realm of holiness—unyielding suprarational self-sacrifice that stems from the essence of the Neshamah.

Through this approach they were victorious, and they came to “thank and praise G–d’s great name,” which refers to Hashem’s very Essence. Since they served Hashem with the essence of their Neshamos, they were rewarded with a personal revelation of Hashem’s very Essence.

Likewise, in our time as well, the forces of secularism and hedonism “rise up against us to destroy us.”[6] They strive both overtly and subtly to lure us, G–d forbid, to abdicate our special, chosen role as Jews, to give up our precious Torah and Mitzvos, and to assimilate into the non-Jewish society.

The only response to this pressure is mesiras nefesh—to press ahead with uncompromising self-sacrifice, obedience, and devotion to practicing and disseminating Torah and Mitzvos despite all the difficulties that one may face.

Moreover, this approach should be more than merely one aspect of our divine service; it must be the very foundation of our divine service, such that it is recognizable from the very beginning. Only then can we be confident that our efforts will bear fruit that will last permanently.

Through this we will surely merit a miraculous victory over all negative forces in our time, and the ultimate divine salvation—the arrival of our righteous Moshiach, may he come NOW!

Based on Sefer HaMa’amarim 5729, p. 86 ff.

To read this essay in full, see the article on Scribd here.

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[1] Megillah 14a.
[2] Ohr HaTorah, Chanukah 301a.
[3] Cf. Tanya ch. 12.
[4] I Shmuel 15:29.
[5] Bereshis Rabba 2:9.
[6] Haggadah.

This post was dedicated in the merit of a refuah shelamah for Rabbi Yoseph Dov ben Freeda and Chanah Freeda bas Feiga Zelda.

Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Music: The Greatest Heights or the Lowest Depths

Music: The Greatest Heights
or the Lowest Depths

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

The Alter Rebbe explains[1] the Talmudic phrase, “All those who sing go out in song”[2] as referring to the song of the angels. Likewise, the Jewish souls in Gan Eden also sing to Hashem.

From what do the angels and souls “go out” through song? The Alter Rebbe quotes the Maggid,[3] who explains that through song the angels and souls transcend their limitations (albeit exceedingly refined limitations, for they are altogether spiritual entities).

Likewise, although Hashem set up a world of limitation, song has a tremendous power in the service of Hashem; it can elevate the person with such an intense love of Hashem that he rises completely above the limitations of the Bestial Soul and the world in general. This was the reason that the Levites sang melodies in the Beis HaMikdash while the Kohanim were offering the sacrifices.

And since “The prayers come in place of the sacrifices,”[4] in prayer one should also strive to rise above all limitations, until one transcends the limitations of the body entirely, with the soul almost expiring in an overwhelming love for Hashem. (This also explains why it is praiseworthy, when practical, to incorporate song into one’s prayers.)

This expresses the awesome power of music when used as Hashem intended—to bring one to the most sublime levels of divine service.

Unfortunately, in order to enable us to have free choice, until Moshiach redeems us (may it happen today!), “Hashem created this one opposite this one”[5]—every force that exists in holiness must have a parallel force in unholiness.

So just as holy Jewish music has the power to raise one to the greatest heights of love of Hashem, so can unholy, non-Jewish music, degrade the Jew to the depths of evil, may G–d save us. It too casts away limitations, but in the opposite way.

The verse states, “Man is born a wild donkey.”[6] Chassidus explains this to mean that we are born with a Bestial Soul that possesses intense, untamed, and self-destructive character traits. By serving Hashem through prayer, Torah study, and observance of the Mitzvos, one weeds out the negative character traits and harnesses the raw energy of the Bestial Soul to the service of the Divine Soul, as it is written, “With the strength of an ox,” the Bestial Soul, “there is much grain,”[7] constructive benefit for the Divine Soul.

However, listening to goyisheh (non-Jewish) music elicits a desire for perikas ol, a desire to cast off all these constructive “limitations.” This music excites and strengthens the Bestial Soul in a very unhealthy way, causing the Divine Soul to become hidden. All the hard work that one did to live with self-control and establish boundaries is thereby undone. One’s negative character traits resurface with even more intensity, and the raw energy of the Bestial Soul is directed to behaviors that are both spiritually and physically harmful, may G–d save us.

All this would be true of goyisheh music even if it had no words; all the more so, considering that in modern times, the lyrics of this music often communicate immodest and heretical messages.

Based on Sefer HaMa’amarim Basi LeGani, Vol. 2, p. 54 ff.

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[1] Likkutei Torah, Pinchas 77c.
[2] Shabbos 51b.
[3] Likkutei Torah, Berachah 98a. Cf. Sefer HaSichos 5703 p. 111 ff.
[4] Berachos 26a-b.
[5] Koheles 7:14; Zohar 1:27b.
[6] Iyov 11:12.
[7] Mishlei 14:4.

This post was dedicated by Reb Kasriel ben Yehudis and Chana Feigeh bas Reizl (my parents, tzu langeh, gezunteh, ziseh yoren).

Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Monarchy, Democracy, and Rosh Hashanah

Monarchy, Democracy,
and Rosh Hashanah

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

Monarchy—a difficult concept

The awesome day of Rosh Hashanah is almost upon us. The central focus of this day is accepting Hashem upon us as king (“kabbolas ol malchus Shomayim”).

Unfortunately, in our times this concept is foreign to us, for monarchy (in Hebrew, “malchus”) as it was practiced in bygone days is almost completely obsolete. But let us try our best to cast our minds back into the past—the vast majority of human history, in fact—and try to imagine what it must have been like.

Well, these are the basics: A king was an absolute authority, with power over life and death. His subjects typically were very afraid of him and very loyal to him. Why was it beneficial for the king to wield such great power? On the basic level, it was needed to keep the people in line—to maintain law and order.

Appointment of the king by grand coronation

Now, at first glance, monarchy sounds very different from modern-day democracy. But in a very important sense, it was not so different. Monarchy is similar to democracy insofar as it is a consensual relationship. The only way that a person could come to have the absolute power of monarchy is for the people to willingly grant him that power.

But how do the people do this—how do they willingly appoint their chosen candidate as king? It is not enough for them to feel that way in their hearts; rather, they must make an external show of their devotion and allegiance.

For this purpose, the people organize a grand coronation event. All the people rally there, declare that they want this man to accept the mantle of kingship, and affirm their unwavering loyalty to him.

Despite the vast differences between people—“their ways of thinking are different”[1]—all the citizens of the country—men, women, and children—join in this ceremony just the same—the simple subjects, the wealthy landowners, the low-level ministers, until the high-level ministers, who are especially dear to the king. They all prostrate before the king and fully commit to obey him. “Long live the king!”[2] they declare.

If, however, one becomes an absolute ruler without the people’s consent; instead, one seizes power by force, then Torah does not define that as malchus, monarchy, but as memshalah, dictatorship. The king assumes his role only by virtue of the people’s demand.

Monarchy vs. Democracy

Moreover, a true candidate for kingship does not aspire to become king. On the contrary, that is the last thing on his mind—he consistently shuns the limelight, and all he wants is to be left alone. But despite his reclusiveness, the people somehow find out about him, learn of his unparalleled greatness, and realize that he is truly worthy of the position. So they approach him and nudge him incessantly to become their king, with this nudging culminating in a grand coronation ceremony.

When the would-be king sees just how much the people want him to rule over them, this evokes within his heart a desire to do so. This feeling is not tainted by any arrogance or bossiness; rather, it is a feeling of humbly and apprehensively stepping up to a role of tremendous responsibility for the sake of serving the community. This is the hallmark of true leadership.

Here the comparison to democracy ends, for according to the democratic system, the candidate can only become elected if he is filled with ambition and aspires to be the leader so much that he “runs” for elections. Instead of the people convincing him to want to rule, he convinces the people to want him to rule.

Although the aspirant to democratic elections may also have some genuine desire to serve the community, it cannot be claimed that his intentions are pure and not tainted by an element of lust for prestige and power. After all, he doesn’t just want any worthy person to rule—he campaigns for the people to decide that he is more worthy than anyone else for the job.

So clearly, no matter what his rhetoric, the best interests of the people are not the only thing on his mind; rather, there is also a strong element of self-interest in his bid for power and his efforts to remain in his position. This self-interest inevitably taints his leadership, for if the interests of the people conflict with his own, he may succumb to temptation and allow his own interests to trump those of the people. For example, upon seeing that another person is much more fit to rule than he, his selfish craving for power may induce him to deny this and even seek ways to viciously condemn and discredit the one whom he views as a threat to his power.

Of course, monarchy also has its pitfalls, for if the king is unworthy, he can abuse his power far more than an elected president can. Much more could be said on this topic, but here is not the place. In any case, a true king only becomes king because the people convinced him so.

Renewing Hashem’s rule and creation

Likewise, Hashem, the King of all Kings, becomes King when we declare our devotion to Him, thereby inaugurating Him as our King.

The difference, though—of course, one of many—between a human king and Hashem, is that a human king does not create the people; he merely enforces law and order, enabling society to function productively. In contrast, when we speak of Hashem as our King, we mean that He creates the world and rules over every single aspect of it.

This is the theme of Rosh Hashanah. The prayers and customs of this day are entirely devoted to repeatedly pleading of Hashem to rule over us as King, especially when we blow the Shofar. This evokes within Hashem the desire to rule over us, such that he commits to continue creating the world.

But why is it necessary to accept Hashem as King every year all over again?[3]

It is written, “The eyes of Hashem, your G–d, are constantly on it [the Holy Land] from the beginning until the end of the year.”[4] What is the meaning of this apparently unnecessary phrase, “from the beginning until the end of the year”—isn’t that already clear from the word “constantly”?

Rather, this verse alludes to the fact that Hashem annually renews the life-force with which he creates the world (and the Holy Land is the subject of the verse, for the entire world receives its life-force through that given to the Holy Land). Each year at “the end of the year”—as the twenty-ninth day of Elul passes, and we enter the night of Rosh Hashanah—Hashem’s desire to create the world recedes, as it were, until it vanishes completely, and although we cannot see it, the world’s very existence is hanging by a thread.

Then, for the next two nights and days, we must devote ourselves to showing Hashem our total commitment to serve Him. We declare, “Our Father, our King!” ... “Be King over us in Your glory,” and so on. And in this way we renew His desire to create the world for the entire coming year, and then this cycle is repeated the following year, and so on.

“Judgment day”

This is how the concept of accepting upon ourselves the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven ties in with the other, perhaps more well-known, theme of Rosh Hashanah—that it is the “Judgment day” when Hashem judges every creature in existence.

As mentioned, Hashem’s decision to rule means that He commits to continue to create the world, and He does so because we submit to Him as King through our divine service on Rosh Hashanah. Now, this decision doesn’t only mean that Hashem decides to continue to create the world and not destroy it, G–d forbid. Rather, He decides the exact nature and amount of blessings that every single person is destined to receive in the coming year, in all areas.

And on what is His decision based? “Hashem sees the heart,”[5] and judges every individual according to their worthiness at the time of judgment.[6] So the sincerity of the individual’s acceptance of the yoke of Hashem’s sovereignty will determine whether Hashem’s ruling will be favorable, and exactly to what degree, and in which areas.

And this is the connection between Rosh Hashanah and Teshuvah. It is absurd to sin and simultaneously commit to serve Hashem. Until the person repents sincerely of his or her sins, they sully his heart and disqualify his profession of total devotion to Hashem on Rosh Hashanah. So on Rosh Hashanah we do Teshuvah, because Teshuvah is vital to accepting Hashem’s sovereignty.

This is also the reason that we are given the entire month of Elul to prepare for Rosh Hashanah. We don’t want to wait until Rosh Hashanah, when we are already being strictly judged, to start thinking about Teshuvah. Rather, we spend the month of Elul doing everything we can to rectify ourselves so that when Rosh Hashanah comes around, we will already be cleansed of sin and fit to commit to serve Hashem with all our heart. 

This is the reason that the atmosphere on Rosh Hashanah, especially according to the school of Chassidus Chabad, is very serious. For on Rosh Hashanah we are standing before Hashem, and He is scrutinizing our hearts carefully. Thus, it is the Chabad custom to spend as much time as possible between the prayers reciting the words of Tehillim with a broken heart, and if one can, avoiding all idle chatter.

May Hashem bless us and write and seal us all for a good and sweet new year in both the material and the spiritual, and may we witness the coming of Moshiach to usher in the true and complete redemption this year, and at its very beginning, NOW!

____________________________
[1] Berachos 58a.
[2] This declaration was used to appoint Jewish kings; cf. I Melachim 1:31.
[3] The explanation below is taken from Tanya, Iggeres HaKodesh, ch. 14.
[4] Devarim 11:12.
[5] I Shmuel 16:7.
[6] Rosh Hashanah 16b.

Dedicated by Avi Turner and family in honor of the Yahrtzeit of Mordechai Ben Yosef on 15 Av.

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Sometimes Cold Turkey is the Only Way

One way of overcoming one’s nature is through intense Kabbolas Ol (acceptance of the yoke of Heaven), as the Previous Rebbe writes:

You ask me for a solution to your natural inclination to constantly tell jokes. You cannot restrain yourself, and even after you feel guilty over it, all your resolutions to abandon the way of constant joking are not effective for longer than several days.

Your soul will only be saved though Kabbolas Ol—by placing a bit and a rein on your mouth, not to speak anything until you have considered carefully whether to speak or be silent. This is what you should do daily: when you wake up in the morning, place a bit and a rein on your mouth, and do not divert your attention from it the entire day, until you sleep.

The task of Kabbolas Ol in general, and for the purpose of overcoming a natural trait to which one has become accustomed in particular, is extremely difficult. However, once one realizes that this is needed in order to save one’s soul, one ought to compel oneself to overcome the test with tremendous might.

At first it will be very difficult for you, but then Hashem will help you, and from day to day the struggle will become easier, until, with the help of Hashem you will eliminate the base trait from within, and reach a state of spiritual illumination.

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 355.

The center of the avodah of Chassidus is improving and refining our character traits. There are different ways of going about this.

Sometimes one should refine a character trait slowly and painstakingly and not try to eradicate it all at once by taking upon oneself to make an extreme, herculean effort. This is the approach expressed in the verse, “Little by little I will banish him” (Shemos 23:30).

In other cases, however, that approach will simply not work, for the person will see that he finds himself in a vicious cycle of resolving to change, changing briefly, and then reverting to his old ways, back and forth, with no end in sight. Then the only way to deal with the negative character trait is to go “cold turkey”—to resolve with extreme determination to abandon that trait entirely, and be tremendously vigilant.

How does one know when to follow the slow approach and when to follow the cold turkey approach? Based on this letter, it would seem that when one is dealing with a bad character trait that is wildly out of control, and other solutions have not worked, it’s time to follow the latter method.

If you don’t believe ...

The following story took place during the first or second year of the Rebbe’s leadership:

A non-observant woman turned to the Rebbe in connection with her husband’s health. The Rebbe blessed her husband with a complete recovery and added that if until now she did not light Shabbos candles, she should begin to do so.

The woman contacted the secretariat and argued, “I don’t understand the connection between my husband’s health and my lighting Shabbos candles.” The secretary relayed this to the Rebbe, who responded that the secretary should tell her as follows: “If you do rely on me, and this brought you to write to me, then believe me that lighting Shabbos candles will help your husband’s health. And if you don’t believe me, why did you turn to me in the first place?!”

Hiskashrus #704.

Lessons:

1. Listening to an expert

The true reason one should obey the Rebbe’s instructions is that he has committed to be a chossid, and the Rebbe is adoneinu, our master. A chossid must obey.

However, this degree of commitment is not necessary in order to realize that one should obey. If one thinks clearly, even one who unfortunately lacks a full sense of commitment as a chossid can realize that he should obey the Rebbe, simply because he knows enough to know that he doesn’t truly know, while the Rebbe, who is a true Tzaddik, does. Moreover, the Rebbe is not issuing his instructions for his own benefit at all, but for our benefit, to refine and elevate us, to cleanse and rectify us so that we can serve Hashem in the best possible manner.

The Rebbe is a master spiritual doctor; thus, one who desires to become spiritually healthy and stay that way will follow the Rebbe’s prescription even if he is not a chossid.

2. Believing in the Tzaddik:

We “believe and don’t believe.”

Even of Noach, who is described by the Torah as “a righteous man” who “walked with G–d,” it is said that he “believed and didn’t believe,” for he did not enter the teiva (ark) until the last moment (Rashi, Bereishis 7:7).

Likewise, the Rebbe has issued numerous instructions. However, many chassidim are only ready to obey in areas that they understand and appreciate, while in areas that they don’t relate to so well, they are lax. They have “selective hearing.”

However, in reality this demonstrates a lack of faith. One who truly believes will not allow his lack of understanding to detract from fulfilling the Rebbe’s instructions.

Moshiach is coming now. Let’s not wait any longer to “enter the teiva.”

Being a chossid: Obedience and inner change

Be happy, it’s Simchas Torah! Why? Because the Shulchan Aruch says so! Oh, okay.

Sing ad mosai (a demand to Hashem to bring Moshiach)! Why? Because the Rebbe says so! Oh, okay.

Nebach.

Being a Jew is about both kabbolas ol and pnimiyus.

Kabbolas ol means soldier-like obedience. Hashem is the King, so I follow His orders, the Mitzvos. I do so even when I don’t understand or feel why I should, and at times some of these orders seem odd. I obey regardless, because I believe in Hashem, I know that His intellect is incomparably superior to mine (which He created). He knows better than me, so his edicts must be obeyed. However, this is only the beginning, the foundation of the building.

Pnimiyus means that I change my inner self, until I want what Hashem wants: “Make His will your will” (Pirkei Avos 2:4). I build the edifice of a personal relationship upon the foundation of obedience. The edifice is the motivation: I am motivated to perform Mitzvos and I do so with a deeply-felt enthusiasm and excitement (ahavas Hashem); I am motivated to avoid sinning, and I do so with a profound sense of awe and trepidation (yiras Hashem).

Being a Chabad chossid is also about both kabbolas ol and pnimiyus.

Kabbolas ol means that I follow the Rebbe’s orders—because they are essentially G–d’s orders, of course—even if I don’t understand and feel why I should. The Rebbe is my general, my king, so I obey. I feel a certain emotional connection and identification with what I do, but only because of my having accepted him as my Rebbe. I feel little personal identification with the things that the Rebbe tells me to do, and I have difficulty grasping why they are important, but I obey out of the minimum belief in the concept that “the Shechinah speaks in the mouth of Moshe” (Zohar 3:232a, ibid. 3:7a).

In short, when Shulchan Aruch tells a Jew to do something, or the Rebbe tells a chossid to do something, then he must obey regardless of whether he feels a personal connection with the matter. Obedience is the beginning of one’s relationship with Hashem as a Jew, and with the Rebbe as a chossid. Still, one should realize that if that’s all there is to the relationship, then something is fundamentally lacking.

Pnimiyus means I change my inner self, until I want what the Rebbe wants—which is, of course, a deeper way of connecting with what Hashem wants. I enjoy learning Chassidus, davvenen (praying) according to Chassidus, fulfilling the Rebbe’s instructions in all areas, and emulating his example. I don’t enjoy these things because the Rebbe said I should enjoy them—which would be a very superficial feeling—but because I actually understand why they are important, and this brings me to feel it deeply.

Similarly, I don’t avoid that which the Rebbe says to avoid “just because the Rebbe says so,” but because I truly understand why such a course of action is undesirable and so I find it emotionally repulsive. The inspiration gained through learning Chassidus and conducting myself according to the ways of Chassidus in turn infuses my observance of Mitzvos with an extra ahavas Hashem and yiras Hashem that is otherwise unattainable (see here). And even if I have not yet actually attained this level, it is my genuine aspiration and I am steadily working towards it.

The only way to truly feel excited about something holy is to work on it really hard. To learn, to meditate, to davven with the concept. If one is not doing these things, then he can assume that his connection with the matter is superficial. It’s at best kabbolas ol, and possibly not even that (because kabbolas ol alone rarely lasts—but that’s for another blog post).

In a way, being a chossid in certain superficial (albeit important) areas (e.g., dress, customs, etc.) and not regularly working on changing one’s pnimiyus is simply missing the whole point. The whole purpose of the introduction of Chassidus was to infuse vital inspiration into one’s avodas Hashem. That is the inner goal that all the more external aspects exist to serve.

To sum up, being a Chabad chossid is not about being a yes-man. It’s about following a program that brings one to feel the most sublime and profound intellectual and emotional bond with Hashem possible until Moshiach comes, and thus as ready as possible for Moshiach when he comes. But the only way to get there is hard, perhaps even grueling labor. There ain’t no short cuts.

Jumping into the mikveh

The Baal Shem Tov teaches that since everything that occurs is by Divine Providence, everything one observes holds a lesson in one’s avodas Hashem, one’s divine service. Therefore, an essential part of serving Hashem is making an effort to notice these messages from Above, and then put them into practice in one’s daily life. Since even apparently trivial events in life also occur by Divine Providence, a lesson can and should be derived from them too.

So, here’s a little episode from my life that may hold a lesson. Today the mikveh was very cold. The fact that outside it was 4 degrees below zero didn’t make it any easier. I started inching into the water, but ... couldn’t continue. Then I realized that there was only one way: to run in as fast as possible. So I did, and found to my pleasant surprise that it wasn’t so painful after all.

Sometimes one experiences difficulty in fulfilling a particular instruction or obligation of the Torah, for whatever reason. The solution to this may well be to avoid thinking, calculating, and preparing, for in reality these are forms of subconscious inner stalling that only serve to lead to further inaction. When one feels a lack of interest, a coldness, to a task that must be done today, the only way to overcome this inner resistance, at least in the short term, is—just do it. Break yourself. And after the fact one may well see that it wasn’t so painful after all.

Afterward, hopefully sooner rather than later, one can and should work at refining one’s personal character (especially with the help of a Mashpia, a spiritual guide) to the point that one feels totally comfortable with that particular instruction of Torah. Until then, however, one should not fall short in one’s action, for “the deed is the main thing” (Pirkei Avos 1:17).

This is the concept of kabolas ol malchus Shomayim, acceptance of the yoke of divine sovereignty. This means that Hashem is the King and we are His servants, and so we must obey Him even when we don’t understand, are not in the mood, or are not personally so inclined. Or worse. Because He said so.

The same holds true for the relationship of a Chossid and his Rebbe: The Chossid obeys his Rebbe regardless whether he understands or emotionally connects with the instructions he was given. Because the Chossid has accepted the Rebbe as adoneinu, “our master,” and thus the Chossid is his servant.

Afterward, hopefully sooner rather than later, the Chossid can and should refine himself (especially with the help of a Mashpia) to the point that he understands and feels why these directives are important, and carries them out with eagerness. But in the meantime, he obeys.

Followers

“Followers” are people whose lives revolve around satisfying the expectations of others. They mean well, and often sincerely desire to improve, yet they consistently fall, for they yield to peer pressure. Put differently, their identity depends upon their surroundings. Thus, if everyone else is doing something inappropriate, they will “follow the herd” and dismiss any inner compunctions about the appropriateness of their actions. Even if the external behavior they are following is not inherently objectionable, the very fact act of imitating the actions of others solely out of a desire to conform is a sign of a follower personality. Such a person is spiritually at risk, because when he changes company, or is otherwise tested, his actions will change as well.

The core of the problem is this person’s inner weakness. A snail has a shell, but no bone at all. It slithers around, makes a mess, and can be crushed in an instant. Similarly, some people dress and act religiously on the outside, but when their environment changes they fall, because they have no backbone.

Thus, doing the right thing out of a desire to conform is not kabbolas ol (acceptance of the yoke of divine sovereignty), because one’s intention is not to submit to Hashem. That’s not to say that such actions are completely worthless, for the action is still a proper action, and “action is the main thing” (Pirkei Avos 1:17).  Still, this action can’t be defined as service of Hashem in the true sense.

Rather, a Jew’s backbone is his kabbolas ol. He submits to Hashem as His servant, rather than to the wishes of mortals in his environment due to fear of social (or other) sanctions.

This principle is so important that it is written at the outset of the Shulchan Aruch (the Code of Jewish Law): “One should be bold like a leopard [in serving Hashem] not to be ashamed before the scoffers.”