Puppeteer of the Soul

At the end of chapter seven, Luzzatto presents what is probably the best know Jewish technique for effecting change. Luzzatto did not discover it - the Chinuch described it over four centuries earlier - but it is so basic to Judaism it is hard for anyone to really claim it as their own.

Whether you use the Chinuch's formulation, האדם נפעל כפי פעולותיו, or Luzzatto's, החיצוניות מעורר הפנימיות, the idea is the same: what we do molds who we are. Luzzatto harnesses this reality in the effort to acquire Zerizus.

Just as Zerizus is the result of an inner excitement, so too will Zerizus produce an inner excitement. That is, one who rouses himself in the performance of a Mitzvah, as he quickens his outer movements he also causes his inner emotion to ignite, and his longing and interest will strengthen and grow. But if he moves his limbs lethargically, then so will his spirit die down and be extinguished. Experience attests to this. 

Now, you already know that what is most wanted in the service of the Creator is the interest of the heart and the longing of the Neshama... However, someone in whom this longing does not burn as it should is well-advised to get himself into in by force of will (i.e., fake it), which will naturally result in the development of this longing. For the external movement inspires the internal and the external is surely more under our control than the internal. Making use of that which is in his hands, he will, in turn, acquire that which isn't. For inner joy, interest and longing will be born of the passion he invested in his free-willed movements. (translation based in part on Machon Ofek)   

Luzzatto is telling us that inspiration is a science. If we learn its laws we can manipulate our inner reality.

 

The only remaining question is why. Why is the internal affected by the external? In the physical sciences, such questions are beyond the pale. A law of nature is just that; we cannot ask why E=mc². I submit that my question may not be legitimate. Nonetheless, I have a hypothesis.

 

In true Jewish tradition, I begin my answer with another question. This entire discussion presumes that the self actually consists of two different identities, the "external" and the "internal." Luzzatto preceded Freud by more than a century. Which two selves is he referring to?  

 

I believe Lazzatto is referring to the well established duality of the body and the soul. It is the soul that will respond to and mimic the behavior of the body. As Luzzatto wrote in the quote above, "What is most wanted in the service of the Creator is the interest of the heart and the longing of the Neshama..."

 

Luzzatto spoke of this longing of the Neshama back in chapter one. There he cited a Midrash which compared the Neshama to a princess who marries a commoner. Just as this simple man will never be able to satisfy the princess, so too is the Neshama trapped in an unhappy marriage. Ever yearning for her spiritual home in Heaven, the Neshama suffers constant disappointment and dissatisfaction with her host body and the material nature of this world.

 

Now, the location of the soul in our bodies is not limited to our minds or our hearts. "Just as the Holy One, may He be blessed, fills the entire universe, so too the Neshama fills the entire body" (Berachos 10a; cf. Nefesh HaChaim 3:2). It follows that whenever we make a move, the corresponding "limb" of the soul is forced to make the very same move.  The "I" of the body is literally the puppeteer of the "I" of the soul trapped within!

 

This explains why the external inspires the internal. Doing Mitzvos lethargically doesn't elicit a soul response, for such Mitzvos leave the soul cold. But when we perform a Mitzvah passionately, the Neshama awakens. As the body puts her through the motions, the Neshama finds happiness in a holy act done right. And, for that one moment at least, the princess finally makes peace with her husband the puppeteer.  

Everything Depends On... One Drop of Ink

It is rare indeed that so much depends on so little, but that is exactly what happens in an obscure line in chapter one. The fate of life on earth literally turns on the tiniest drop of ink, and to make matters worse, we're not even sure if the ink exists at all.

Allow me to explain. Here is the line in question, as it appears in most editions:

אלא בריאתו של האדם למצבו בעולם הבא היא, ועל כן ניתנה בו נשמה זאת, כי לה ראוי לעבוד ובה יוכל האדם לקבל השכר במקומו ובזמנו, שלא יהיה דבר נמאס אל נשמתו בעולם הזה אלא אדרבא נאהב ונחמד ממנה, וזה פשוט

The Hebrew is admittedly awkward, but it can't mean anything other than what Feldheim's translation says it means: "Therefore, the creation of man is wholly linked to his place in the world-to-come, and for this purpose he was given this soul; he will serve the Eternal for its [the soul's] sake, and through it he will receive his reward at the appropriate place and time. In this manner, instead of his soul despising this world, it will love and desire it. This is self-evident."

We need to appreciate the significance of this line. Luzzatto had just quoted a Midrash which compared the state of our souls in this world to a princess who marries one of the town's folk. This man will never be able to make her happy, for she comes from a different world. So too, Luzzatto writes, "The Neshama does not love this world at all; on the contrary, it despises it!" But now, in the concluding sentence of this depressing paragraph, we are told that there a way out of this sad state of affairs. If we work, if we serve God, we can make her happy. Our Neshama is not doomed to despise this world! 

This news comes as a great relief and it also allows us to understand a well-known but difficult biblical expression. 

You shall place these words of mine on your hearts and on your souls. Tie them as a sign on your arms and they shall be an ornament between your eyes. Teach it to your children so they will talk about it when they are sitting at home, traveling on the road, when they lie down and when they get up. Write it on the doorposts of your homes and your gates. In order that your days and the days of your children will be increased on the ground that Hashem promised to give to your forefathers, כימי השמים על הארץ, like the days of heaven on earth.

"Like the days of heaven on earth." What does that mean? In light of what we have learned, it means exactly what it says. If you do the Mitzvos... no, that's not right. If you immerse yourself in Mitzvos; if you fill your heart and mind with Torah, if you bind it to arm and head, write it on the doorposts, and talk about it day and night, at home and on the road, then your soul will experience life on earth - in the Holy Land - with the very same bliss that it experienced when it was in heaven. Heavenly days, on earth!

If only it were so. Unfortunately, the Machon Ofek edition provides us with a different, and apparently more accurate, version of this sentence. It is a miniscule correction, erasing the tiniest slice of a letter and changing a ב into a כ, but it at once saves the sentence grammatically and restores the soul to its uncomfortable status quo. Look at it now:

ועל כן ניתנה בו נשמה זאת, כי לה ראוי לעבוד ובה יוכל האדם לקבל השכר במקומו ובזמנו, שלא יהיה דבר נמאס אל נשמתו כעולם הזה אלא אדרבא נאהב ונחמד ממנה

Here is their translation: "Therefore, this soul was placed within him, for it befits the soul to serve [God], and with it man will be able to receive reward in the appropriate place and in the appropriate time, for [the world-to-come] is not something despicable to his soul as this world, but to the contrary, it is loved and desired by it."

So much for the "self-evident" happiness in the here and now.

[The Feldheim translation given above is from their new translation of Mesilas Yesharim (2004). While they did update the Hebrew text and change the ב which appeared in their older edition into a כ, they failed to appreciate how that transforms the meaning of the sentence.] 

The post might have ended here, but I am dissatisfied with Machon Ofek's translation of their own corrected text. I would argue, and those who can read Hebrew would surely agree, that the good Machon's usually competent translators fudged this sentence. Here is what it really says:

"This is why this Neshama was placed within him, for it is worthwhile to work for her, and through her man will be able to receive reward in the appropriate place and in the appropriate time. This is in order that [the reward] won't be something despised by his soul like this world is, but to the contrary, [the reward in the next world will be] loved and desired by it more than [this world]."

I know it sounds strange, but that it what it says. If we can suppress our objections for a moment and just listen to the words objectively (always a good idea when reading Luzzatto), we are faced with frightening implications. Reward in the next world is not necessarily blissful. If we fail to "work for the soul," the experience of our eternal reward in the next world will be "despised."

No, this cannot be right, you say. Reward is reward and bliss is bliss. Right?

Wrong. The next world can hurt. Not just Gehenom, but Heaven too. Allow me to quote none other than Luzzatto himself, just a few chapters on:

If it is so difficult for people to be ranked below others in the imaginary and deceptive ranks [of this world]... how will they tolerate seeing themselves lower than people whom they currently consider their inferiors? And this in the place of true rank and eternal honor! Even though they currently don't recognize it nor appreciate its value and consequentially they ignore it, when the time comes they will certainly recognize its reality to their sorrow and shame. This will undoubtedly be a source of great and everlasting grief.  (Chap. 4; translation based on Machon Ofek)

Luzzatto is not speaking here of Gehenom. Earlier in the same chapter he cites the Gemora in Baba Basra (75a), "Everyone is burned by their friend's Chuppah." Luzzatto explained that this refers not to base jealousy, but to the pain of seeing someone else achieve a level of fulfillment that you know that you are yourself capable of. This kind of pain can be experienced in Heaven too.

This is what Luzzatto is saying in our corrected sentence. Work for your soul, or else expect to suffer the same very same disappointments in the next world that you experience in the here and now.  

A Blind Man and a Horse

Our author loves parables and analogies - remember, Luzzatto was a playwright (see here, here and here) - and he uses them regularly in Mesillas Yesharim to great effect. In his first chapter on Zehirus the Ramchal utilizes two very different analogies to depict the unexamined life. The first is his own invention: a blind man walking along a riverbank. The second comes from the Navi: a horse plunging into battle (Yermiyah 8:6).

A blind man on a walk and a madly galloping horse. It would be hard to come up with two more diametrically opposed images, but somehow they both describe the same problem. How can this be?

A more basic question. Is a blind man really the ideal depiction of a person who lacks Zehirus?! No one walks more carefully than a blind man. The blind man's slow and deliberate steps would seem to be the ultimate illustration of Zehirus, not the lack thereof! Moreover, why wasn't the Navi's analogy of the horse sufficient? Why does the Ramchal need to add the blind man?

It should be obvious by now that Luzzatto is making two very different points here. First, he wants to let us know that our assumptions about Zehirus are false. It is insufficient to merely "be careful." As the very title of chapter one makes clear, man must know "his responsibilities in his world." You can walk through life as carefully as a blind man - every single step by the book - but if you are unaware or unmindful of the demands of your environment, your family and your social circle, then you lack Zehirus and are in peril of falling into oblivion. 

Back in the introduction, our author was outspoken in his criticism of those who focus solely on Talmud and Halacha and see no need to study Mussar. Here he derides them more subtly. Although every move of those Halachists is taken with the extreme care and trepidation of the blind, if they have never asked themselves uncomfortable questions about their personal obligations in their world, then they are far from true Zehirus. Their way of life is comparable to a blind man walking on the edge of a river. 

The Navi is describing an altogether different type of problem. A horse plunging into battle is very aware of his surroundings. He hears the screams, he sees the arrows and the spears, he knows he is charging straight into life-threatening danger and he is seized with terror, but yet he is powerless to change course for a rider drives him on with reigns and a whip. Some people are driven solely by their negative desires and character flaws and, despite their own better judgment, are as powerless to change course as a horse on the battlefield. 

Two different kinds of people, two different kinds of problems, but both lack Zehirus. Thankfully, there is a known cure. Keep reading!

(For an alternative approach to these two metaphors see this post.)

Honor Corrupts: A Classroom Discussion

In chapter 16, the Ramchal tells us that the Tahor is in danger of being seduced by honor. As he strives to perfect his Mitzvos, people will take notice and he will receive recognition. The Tahor may find himself enjoying the attention and the purity of his future Mitzvah performance will be jeopardized.

It all sounds simple enough, but Tehila S. raised an important point. Any interest in personal prestige should have been eradicated long ago in Nekius! Back in chapter eleven the Ramchal wrote: “It appropriate for the Naki to cleanse and totally purify himself of [interest in honor] – then he will succeed” (chap. 11). So why are we concerned that the Tahor will be motivated by honor? If he is, then not only isn’t he a Tahor, he’s not even a Naki! 

This is a truly excellent question. Nonetheless, two students came up with impressive answers. 

Miriam W. reminded us that the Tahor started off doing the Mitzvah לשמה, free of any self-interest. 

… But what requires deeper contemplation and greater effort is [preventing] the inclusion of forbidden [intent]. Sometimes a person sets out to perform a Mitzvah truly לשמה, because it is the decree of our Father in heaven, but yet he does not prevent other interests from entering into the equation; either that people should praise him or that he will receive reward for his act. Other times, even if he doesn't really intend for [people] to praise him, his enjoyment of the praise [he receives] will cause him to be more meticulous [in future performances of this Mitzvah]. This is akin to the story about the daughter of R. Chaninah ben Tradion. She had a graceful bearing when she walked, and when she heard [people] commenting, “How fine is the bearing of that girl!” she immediately became more meticulous. This addition was clearly born of the praise that she received. Even though the forbidden element is vanishingly small, an act with components like this in the mix is not perfectly pure. 

Chapter 16

R. Chaninah ben Tradion’s daughter didn't do anything wrong and the Talmud is not criticizing her. It is perfectly natural for people to become more conscientious when they are complimented. Nonetheless, the Tahor must battle this human weakness if he is to preserve the purity of his intent (cf. Ofek Institute, “The Complete Mesillat Yesharim,” pg. 182, note 14) 

Miriam used this point to answer Tehila’s question. Although the Naki has cleansed himself of the drive for כבוד and is above setting out in pursuit of it, nonetheless he is still human and will enjoy receiving praise for his Mitzvos. As the Ramchal wrote, this enjoyment endangers subsequent Mitzvah acts which may now lack the requisite perfection of intent. Thus, despite the fact that the Tahor is נקי and is not initially motivated by כבוד, he must still strive to maintain the purity of his Mitzvot. (For an deeper understanding of the Naki's weakness, see this post.) 

Talia S. came up with a different answer to Tehila's question; a compelling explanation based on the struggle between two different types of honor. In the words of the Ramchal, “It is impossible for him to be a faithful servant of his Master as long as he cares about his own honor, for his foolishness will require him to minimize Heaven’s honor” (chap. 11). Here we see two very different types of honor: the honor of man and the honor of Heaven. Although the honor of man presents a grave danger to spiritual health, the honor of heaven should obviously be encouraged and embraced. 

The authentic honor is true knowledge of the Torah, as [the sages] of blessed memory taught, “There is no honor other than Torah, as the verse states, ‘כבוד will be inherited by the wise’ (Mishlei 3:35)” (Avos 6:3). All else is nothing but imaginary and false honor, unhelpful hot air. It is appropriate for the נקי to cleanse and totally purify himself of it – then he will succeed”

Chapter 11

Now we understand, said Talia, why the טהור is struggling with כבוד issues. Back in נקיות he eradicated all interest in the false כבוד of the self, but now he is the recipient of a different kind of כבוד. He is being honored for his תורה and מצוות! This kind of כבוד is valid and the טהור is therefore in danger of confusing his own personal כבוד with the כבוד of Hashem. That is a new challenge he never dealt with before. (For a real-life example of this confusion, see this post.)

Truth be told, neither Miriam's nor Talia's explanations fully answer Tehila's question. The Ramchal clearly writes that we are also dealing here with a person in pursuit of personal honor. "Sometimes a person sets out to perform a Mitzvah truly לשמה, because it is the decree of our Father in heaven, but yet he does not prevent other interests from entering into the equation; either that people should praise him or that he will receive reward for his act" (ibid.). Here we find the Naki interested in honor even before he receives it! As Tehila asked, such a thing should not be possible.

With all due respect to Tehila, I believe her entire question is a mistake, founded on a prevalent, basic misconception about the book. People are complex, multidimensional beings, and the spiritual levels described by the Mesilas Yesharim are not all or nothing. A person can be Zahir in one area of life, Naki in another and a Chosid in a third. In fact, that is usually the case. Luzzatto knew that there would be many readers interested in working on the Tahara of their Mitzvos even though they were not yet Naki when it comes to כבוד. That is as it should be, and our understanding author addressed the issue and gave us much needed empathy and guidance.

Thank you Luzzatto!

Luzzatto Comes to Beis Yaakov

I was blessed with the high privilege of teaching Mesilas Yesharim in Beis Yaakov of Los Angeles last year. It was an extraordinary experience. Actually, it was a revolution. 

The girls of 11c embraced the Sefer. Every 45 minute class was a brainstorming session, with sharp questions, creative insights and new ways of understanding what it means to take Yiddishkeit seriously. We all grew in the process and BE"H we will continue to grow with the invaluable assistance of this great Sefer.

My only regret is that I failed to record the constant flow of חידושים. Readers will find several of my Beis Yaakov students quoted in recent posts. This will give you a taste of what occurred in our classroom conversations last year. But do keep in mind that it is only a small taste.    

Yasher Koach to all the students of the 2013 11c class of BYLA. Thank you for an unforgettable year.

Adam Reborn! (but still weak...)

In chapter 16 Luzzatto describes the exalted level of Tahara, Purity. The Tahor transcends all interest in pleasure, recognition and monetary gain and is motivated solely by the drive to serve God. He does Mitzvos לשמה, for their own sake, because כך גזר אבינו שבשמים, it is the decree of our Father in heaven. This results in actions of perfect purity, hence the label “Tahor.” 

My student Bracha S. wondered about the feasibility of Tahara. Earlier in the year, we learned a fundamental teaching of Reb Chaim Volozhiner. He writes in Nefesh HaChaim (1:6, second note) that before the original sin of Adam, evil did not exist within man. Left to his own devices, Adam would naturally and consistently do the right thing (cf. Ramban to Devarim 31:6). In this lofty spiritual state, the only way man could be persuaded to sin was through a seduction coming from outside of himself, i.e., the snake. 

Everything changed when Adam ate of the fruit of the עץ הדעת טוב ורע. The forbidden fruit brought evil into man, where it commingled with good. Ever since, writes Reb Chaim Volozhiner, it is virtually impossible for man to perform an act of perfect goodness or of perfect evil. No matter what we do, there are always elements of both good and evil blended into the act. 

Bracha pointed out that according to the Nefesh HaChaim, Tahara is an impossibility. If there is always some evil motivation in our behavior, then nothing we do is ever truly Tahor. 

It would appear that we have a fundamental debate here between R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto and R. Chaim Volozhiner, but that can’t be right. R. Chaim Volozhiner’s Rebbe, the Vilna Gaon, was an avid student of Luzzatto’s Kabbalistic writings. It is also known that the Gaon particularly treasured the Mesilas Yesharim. R. Chaim Volozhiner would surely never disagree with Luzzatto. 

I would like to suggest a radical solution to this problem. In chapter ten Luzzatto writes that a Naki is “completely cleansed of any negative trait and any sin… the fire of physical desire has been extinguished from his heart…” In other words, the Naki has no interest in sin and will naturally always do the right thing. This is the level of Adam before the sin! Tahara may indeed be unachievable for man after the sin, but the Naki is no ordinary man. He is cleansed and transformed. For a Naki, Tahara is not only feasible; it is a natural outgrowth of his Nekius. 

Good evidence for this approach can be found in Perishus, the level right after Nekius. Luzzatto tells us that the reason it is so difficult to abstain from the physical pleasures is because we are seduced by the attractive appearance of things. “This seduction is what caused the original sin to occur, as the verse testifies, ‘The woman saw that the fruit was good to eat and it appeared desirous to the eyes…’ (Bereishis 3:6)” (Mesilas Yesharim, chap. 15). 

To our ears, this just sounds silly. Do we really need to cite biblical verses to explain why we enjoy indulging in the pleasures of life?! But Luzzatto is not speaking to us; he is speaking to the Naki. Cleansed of all interest in sin and lacking the inner drive of the pleasure seeker, it is hard to understand why Perishus would be a challenge for a Naki. That is why Luzzatto reminds us of what happened in the Garden. חוה was Naki, but nonetheless, she fell for the forbidden fruit. For no matter how Naki a person is on the inside, the eyes are constantly receiving stimuli from the outside. And human eyes are always in danger of being seduced by the beckoning pleasures of the garden. 

This approach also helps us appreciate an unusual piece of evidence found in chapter 16. Describing the challenge of Tahara, Luzzatto tells the story of R. Chaninah ben Tradion’s daughter. 

She had a graceful bearing when she walked, and when she heard [people] commenting, “How fine is the bearing of that girl!” she immediately became more meticulous. This addition was clearly born of the praise that she received. Even though the forbidden element is vanishingly small, an act with components like this in the mix is not perfectly pure. 

The daughter of the great Tanna was undoubtedly Naki in the sensitive areas of modesty and humility. Nonetheless, even the most righteous of women is not impervious to the impact of compliments. Just as external seductions cause the Naki to fail in Perishus, so too compliments can play with the mind and influence behavior, ruining the purity of our every act. 

Let the Naki beware!

Occupational Hazards of the Rabbinate

… But what requires deeper contemplation and greater effort is [preventing] the inclusion of forbidden [intent]. Sometimes a person sets out to perform a Mitzvah truly לשמה, because it is the decree of our Father in heaven, but yet he does not prevent other interests from entering into the equation; either that people should praise him or that he will receive reward for his act. Other times, even if he doesn’t really intend for [people] to praise him, his enjoyment of the praise [he receives] will cause him to be more meticulous [in future performances of this Mitzvah]… 

Mesilas Yesharim, Chapter 16

The human interest in honor and praise can derail the best of men, even when they set out to perform a מצוה לשמה! 

Although it is not a crime to lack Tahara (see beginning of chapter 13), it is a crime to pursue honor (see end of chapter 11). It turns out that the struggle to achieve higher spiritual levels opens wormholes that drag us back down to the lower levels. It’s kind of like Candy Land. No one said this was going to be easy. 

Perusing the Seforim stores in Yerushalayim after Pesach, I picked up a newly published volume of Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe’s letters. Here’s a gem I discovered this week which gives another example of the insidious nature of honor. The translation is mine.

ז' ניסן, תשמ"ו

To my dear illustrious friend, Rabbi … 

Shalom and many blessings! 

A heartfelt Mazal Tov on your appointment! May Hashem grant you success in returning many from their sins and drawing many close to real Torah and Mitzvos! I am delighted that you have found a place that gives you satisfaction – and in an area with Talmidei Chachomim. Certainly there is a lot of aggravation in being a rabbi, but nonetheless, a rabbi can accomplish a great deal. 

When I received your letter and the invitation to your installation, I was reminded of what I heard in the Mir: The Mashgiach זי"ע [Reb Yeruchum Levovitz] had set up a certain Talmid as a rabbi and he came to the Mashgiach to thank him. Our Teacher said to him: “The thanks will be that you won’t be a ‘Rabbi’!” His point was that the rabbinate is a dangerous office. Just as there are many “occupational hazards,” so too the rabbinate has its “occupational hazards”: protecting the so-called “honor of Torah” can bring a rabbi to seek honor and haughtiness – as if he is God’s right-hand man… Our Teacher told this student that he must be very wary of the negative side-effects which tend to develop in a rabbi…

Letters and Writings of the Mashgiach, Vol. II, letter 388, pgs. 138-139