Breslov Blog

A few years ago, when my children were little, I used to be friends with a very chareidi lady whose kids were around the same age. We spent a lot of time together, discussing many different topics, and she inspired me greatly. Once, we spoke about the upcoming Shavuos, and she said, "I love Shavuos! My husband's job is to learn all night,  while my job is to make the cheesecake. And I feel deeply content with my role as a woman; baShomayim, our reward is still going to be the same." At the time, I felt nothing but admiration for her. I knew full well that her words didn't describe a worldview limited by cheesecakes; on the contrary, they showed a deep and heartfelt acceptance of the role Hashem has given her. Yet as time went by, I discovered that I couldn't fully understand that position. Let's say that one person is always cooking the food, and the other is always eating. So how can the one forced to go hungry all his (or rather her) life be satisfied with t

"A person who wants to purify himself (to do teshuvah) is helped from Above, but he is told to wait." From the Hebrew word "Wait!" - המתן - we learn something important about waiting, Smack in the middle of it, there is another word: מת ("dead"). So waiting is an aspect of death. Our sages say that sleep is one-sixtieth of death. I suppose waiting may feel like even more than that because it's the inability to move, to advance while being fully conscious. It's hard to think of anything more frustrating. Yet there is another way to look at it. A person who wants to do teshuvah is like a seed planted in the ground. A lot of what used to make up their personality will have to fall away, to die in a sense, before they'll be able to truly come close to Hashem. And yes, this will take time - a lot of time, during which they won't necessarily feel that they're getting any closer to their goal. But in the end they'll feel that it was all wo

  Well, Chanukah is almost over. Where do we go from here? To really get the answer, we'll have to go back to the beginning. On the first night of Chanukah, Hashem brought His life-giving light to our homes. Since we lost the Bais HaMikdash a long time ago and so couldn't go visit Him, He came to us instead. Seeing how lost we were in the despair and emptiness of the exile, He promised that on every subsequent night, there will be more and more light. At first, we might have been a bit bewildered and overwhelmed. But then, after getting used to it, for eight nights we basked and luxuriated in the new-found light and warmth, Even though our bodies couldn't use that light, our souls both could and did. But then, something else started happening. The bright glow of Chanukah enabled us to see our life in a new light until we were ready to say to Hashem: "Although I'm happy and grateful that You're here with me, I realize now that I don't really want to be here

It's brought that Chanukah is related to the concept of bikur cho lim   visiting the sick). When the Jewish people were thriving, we had a Bais HaMikdash and would come to visit Hashem three times a year. But now the Bais HaMikdash has long been destroyed, and we're submerged in the darkness and emptiness of the exile. We're sick and tired, so we can't visit Hashem anymore. So He comes to us, bringing with Him the awesome light of Chanukah. It's quite possible that this concept is hinted in the way we light the Chanukah candles. The ideal height where they should be lit is above three tefachim and below ten tefachim (somewhere between 24 and 80 centimeters). Does this remind you of something? To me, the implication is obvious: this is just the height of the bed where a sick person is laid up! So if your head is pounding, your mood is lousy, and you can't find a single reason why it's good to be alive - don't worry; this is exactly the way it's mea

It says in Torah 4 of "Likutei Moharan" that, as soon as a person sees the tzaddik, they are cured of laziness and depression, as well as of any evil desires they might have had. This is because the tzaddik is called the mother of the Jewish people: he takes care of them and teaches them Torah which is compared to milk. So the people are like a child who, as soon as he sees his mother, forgets all his petty hurts and childish games and runs to her happily. Now, "seeing the tzaddik" is understood as studying his seforim and trying to implement his advice. So recently I had a thought: "Hey, I've been doing all that for more than two years already, and I haven't seen that much progress! Can it be that this just doesn't work, or that I have been doing it wrong?" But then I looked at this parable from a different angle. A child will only be happy to see his mother if he is not sick. Yet if he is in pain, he might start crying even harder, just to l