Gradual Growth for Beginners

Gradual Growth for Beginners

Rabbi Y. Oliver

How does one go about teaching Jews coming from an assimilated background how to adopt Torah observance? It involves understanding where they are coming from.

For them (especially if they are older), even a small change from their regular schedule of observance usually requires a tremendous internal effort. Thus, demanding that they take on everything at once, or even many things at once, or even several things at once, may be so overwhelming that they will end up doing nothing, as the Gemara states, “One who grabs too much ends up with nothing”.[1] This could mean that they will not listen in the first place, or it could mean that they will listen and do as expected, but will over time come to feel resentful, and that the change in their lifestyle was forced.

Thus, often it is only appropriate to encourage beginners to take upon themselves one solitary Mitzvah. Once they have done that Mitzvah for a while, and feel comfortable doing it, then they can take on another, until they feel comfortable doing that one, and so on.

Thus, those who are in the position of teaching beginners to Torah observance should guide their students slowly, step by step, instructing the student to focus on bolstering their observance of the specific Mitzvah in which he or she has chosen to grow, and not to jump ahead.

On the other hand, the teacher must avoid any words or actions that could be construed as endorsement of non-observance.  Instead, the teacher must make it clear that the changes that the newcomer has adopted are not the end of the journey, but only the beginning.

This is comparable to teaching a child Alef beis. First one teaches an alef, then a beis, and so on. During this process one does not tell the child that an alef is the only letter there is to know, or the only one worth knowing. Rather, one tells him that today an alef will suffice as a beginning, since one can’t learn everything at once; however, with time he will learn more and more letters, until he will master them all. Then, he will learn to combine different letters into words, and he will learn different words, and ideas in Torah, until he will become, with the help of Hashem, an accomplished great Torah scholar.

When one starts with teaching a child an alef, in no way does this constitute compromise. On the contrary, this is the proper way to learn—to start from the beginning, and advance from step to step.

The same principle holds when teaching the Alef beis of Yiddishkeit. One should encourage the beginner to take upon himself one Mitzvah and continue observing it until he feels comfortable with it. Only then should he take upon himself another, additional Mitzvah, until he feels comfortable with that Mitzvah, and so on. Since “One Mitzvah brings another in its wake,”[2] he will ultimately come to full observance, with the help of Hashem and the support of his teacher and, when possible, of his family and community.

Although this approach seems logical and should be altogether simple and straightforward, it is not intuitively clear for someone who has been raised frum, for he has been trained from early childhood to fulfill all the Mitzvos without compromise. 

Certainly once he has reached Bar or Bas Mitzvah, he is told to keep the entire Shulchan Aruch, whether he feels comfortable doing so or not. The idea of consciously choosing to keep one Mitzvah and not others, even temporarily, runs against his grain (and this is the way he should feel). Thus, when teaching the beginner, the teacher raised frum must make a conscious effort to adjust to the vastly different circumstances of his pupil.

Adapted from Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 33, pp. 145-148.

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[1] Rosh Hashanah 4a.

[2] Avos 4:2.

A Difficult Transition

A Difficult Transition

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

“Jump in the pool, the water’s fine!”


The warm, clean, sparkling water beckons invitingly below, and yet we often hesitate.


Invariably, once we take the plunge, we enjoy ourselves, and regret not having done so earlier.


Nevertheless, the next time we hesitate again. Yet once we jump in, we regret again having delayed such a pleasant experience. The question begs itself: Why don’t we learn from our experience?


The same question can be asked about serving Hashem. On the one hand, the Torah instructs us to immerse ourselves in Torah study. Commenting on Hashem’s command to Noach, “Enter the ark,[1] the Baal Shem Tov points out that the Hebrew word for ark, teiva, can also mean “word.” Hashem is thus exhorting us to “enter” and immerse ourselves in the “word”—the words of Torah and Tefillah.


Once we start indeed immersing ourselves and “getting into” a sugya in Gemoro, a Ma’amar Chassidus, and so on, we don’t want to stop, and we even wonder why we delayed. How could we have been so foolish and coarse to deprive ourselves of such a sublime pleasure? And yet the next time the opportunity to do so arises, experience shows that we face the same inner struggle. Again, why don’t we learn from our experience?


The answer is that the very transition from mundane affairs to Torah and Tefillah is extremely difficult. We have to tear ourselves away intellectually and emotionally from one mode of operating and engage ourselves in another, very different and even opposite mode.


Just as the body naturally resists the change of body temperature caused by diving into a pool, so is there an inner resistance, particularly from the Animal Soul, to making the transition from the material to the spiritual.


However, knowledge is power. Realizing that this inner resistance is one of the core tactics that the evil inclination uses in order to obstruct our service of Hashem arms us with the strength need to overcome it. For just as with practice, a swimmer can learn to make the jump into the pool without foot dragging, so can one who makes a conscious, consistent effort to force himself to make the transition from the mundane to the holy ultimately develop the ability to do so with minimal effort.

[1] Bereshis 7:1.

Based on Sefer HaMa’amarim Admur HaRayatz 5785, Choviv odom, p. 7; Sefer HaMa’amarim Admur HaRashab 5678, p. 131.

Learning Chassidus: Getting one's bearings

Someone wrote to me asking about how to go about learning maamarim (Chassidic discourses, or a maamar in the singular).

It’s best to start with more basic texts such as the Tanya, Derech Mitzvosecha, Kuntres Uma’ayan, and the like.

Obviously it is best to learn with someone who has a lot of experience and can provide background and explanation for difficult expressions and concepts. However, even if such a chavrusa (study partner) is unavailable, one should still learn Chassidus.

When beginners to Chassidus encounter enigmatic kabbalistic expressions, they conclude that learning on their own is pointless. However, I believe that this is a mistake. If you come across phrases and terms that you don’t understand, don’t give up. Rather, make a note of the question, skip that sentence, read on, and try to understand as much of the maamar as possible. Hopefully an occasion will arise to discuss the question with someone more knowledgeable, but even if it doesn’t, the study was worthwhile. It’s not all or nothing. 

As one develops one’s general knowledge, more and more terms and references will become understood. In contrast, if one gets bogged down with every expression and nuance, one will cover little ground.

It’s like arriving in a new city. First one should get one’s bearings in general, by learning the locations of the main landmarks, such as the shul, the mikveh, the local kollel and yeshivah, and so on. Once one has the general picture, he can then fill in the details.

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.