“NAASEH V’NISHMAH”: A TEMPLATE FOR THE TRUE JEWISH LIVING

 Kabbolas Ha Torah was a singular event in the Jewish history that is still uniquely important for us on so many levels. Even before the Yidden received the Torah, when Moshe Rabbeinu spoke to them about serving Hashem, they responded with unequivocal acceptance, “All that Hashem has spoken, we will do and we will listen!” This is the famous declaration “naaseh v’nishmah” that became a symbol of our devotion to Hashem.

The Rebbe revealed in Torah 22 – one of the most beautiful lessons in the whole “Likutei Moharan” - that these two words “naaseh v’nishmah” actually contain a model for true Jewish living. The “naaseh” stands for all that we already capable of doing in our avodas Hashem, while the “nishmah” represents the next level that we’d like to reach. This means that, as servants of Hashem and true followers of the Rebbe, we should never be complacent, considering our current madregah as being “good enough” already, so we can relax and stop earning for more. We should always be turning “nishmah” into “naaseh”, transforming what used to be out of reach into part of our everyday reality.

There are two important ideas that can help us in our striving to attain higher levels.

First, we should always keep in mind that we will inevitably encounter obstacles, so that we’re never thrown off course when they show up. In fact, as the Rebbe teaches in another Torah, the obstacles are there only to increase our desire; if we remain persistent and determined, they will inevitably fall away.

What is perhaps even more crucial to remember is that the main way to reach the next level is prayer. We should both daven to Hashem in formal tefilah and speak to Him in our own words, explaining how much we want to serve Him better and what this new madregah means to us. Then we’re guaranteed, both by the Rebbe and by Reb Noson, that Hashem will “look down from Shamayim and see”, and this will result in us getting all the help that we can possibly need.

In order to bring these ideas “down to earth” and to demonstrate how they can work for real people, I’d like to share a personal story of how I strove to reach the next level in my avodas Hashem and in becoming a better follower of the Rebbe.

About two years ago, when I began to seriously consider myself a Breslover, I had to ask myself a question: what does being a Breslover really entail? What is it that I’ll have to do in order to deserve this title? Then only thing I was doing back then was study Breslov books and articles, but, since “the main thing is not learning but doing”, I knew that wasn’t enough. I davened to Hashem to help me find the right advice, and He heard me.

He led me to a very knowledgeable and caring Breslov Rav who patiently guided me through my first baby steps in following the Rebbe. I’m writing this story as a kind of tribute to the Rav, although I’d prefer not to mention his name. For this, I’d have to ask his permission, which I don’t think I would get, as he is truly modest and hates publicity. So let him remain anonymous; as far as I know, we are truly fortunate to have many such people in Breslov.

After asking me a few initial questions and ascertaining that my life at that time wasn’t particularly busy or challenging, the Rav suggested the following program for me to follow daily: hisbodedus (speaking to Hashem in my own words), starting with ten minutes and gradually increasing the time; learning practical Halacha; and being b’simcha. After I complained that this last item was very hard to measure, the Rav told me to dance for five minutes a day. This was the nishmah that I now had to strive for, in addition to learning Breslov books, which was the naaseh that I was already doing.

Now, dancing for five minutes a day doesn’t sound like much, but it was this task that proved particularly challenging.

First, I had to contend with painful childhood memories of being labeled, along with my equally hapless partner, as the “worst pair of dancers” during some kind of competition in a horrible, horrible kindergarten in Moscow, Russia, that I had to attend as a child. Before I started dancing as a Breslover, I was sure the memory of that public humiliation had long been forgotten, but then I discovered that it was still there, mercilessly telling me how awkward I was and how pathetic my dancing steps looked.

I wrote to the Rav about these problems, and he very kindly wrote back, “If it is that painful, just forget it. Then again, you might still want to give it a try from time to time.”

Indeed, I didn’t want to give up. I really wanted to reach this new level, this nishmah of being able to dance without feeling pathetic and awkward. So I asked Hashem again and again in my hisbodedus for the ability to move past those bad memories and, after a while, He helped me succeed. I found a couple of songs that I really enjoyed, and dancing to them became my naaseh – something that I was finally capable of doing.

There was only one problem. Those were non-Jewish songs. Again, this was understandable, considering that I had grown up in Moscow, Russia, then spent several years in a completely secular environment in New York, and only started living an authentic Jewish life in my early thirties. So, as far as music was concerned, I could be allowed to remain who I was and didn’t have to push myself too hard. The Rav, whom I, of course, consulted with this new problem, kindly told me as much. Yet I still felt that I wanted to strive for that additional level of kedushah where I would only listen to Jewish music. I didn’t want to allow my difficult background to permanently disable me and to prevent me from reaching higher. So I persevered and eventually found an adequate “replacement” for the goyish songs I used to love.

But then I encountered another setback. As long as the songs I was dancing to were only a replacement for something that I would really enjoy, they weren’t enough to put me in a happy mood, especially if I was already sad when I started dancing. More than once, instead of feeling better, I dissolved in a flood of tears because this just wasn’t working, and so had to stop.

So I asked myself: what do I do now? Should I stop striving for this nishmah, this next level of only listening and dancing to Jewish music? After all, my naaseh at that time looked impressive enough: I could dance for ten to fifteen minutes every day, to songs I really enjoyed, and this did help me to be b’simcha throughout the day, just as the Rav had promised. Yet I really, really didn’t want to give up and give in to my past. So I asked Hashem in my hisbodedus again and again, and searched again and again, until He took pity on me and helped me discover a musician that created authentic and sincere Jewish songs in the exact style that I used to love when I was still listening to non-Jewish music.

So, baruch Hashem, now I can say that this is the level that I’ve finally attained. The “nishmah” that felt hopelessly out of reach became my “naaseh”. And this is not just the dancing; when I dance, I truly feel that I’m stomping away the klipos of my own negativity, so I can finally be b’simcha. This was brought home to me last Purim when, in the privacy of my room, I felt so happy dancing to my favorite songs! Even now, remembering this joyous dancing still makes me smile. The Rebbe says that the year begins with Purim, and I finally merited to start my year “on the right foot”.

Should I rest on my laurels now, especially after I've merited to tell the story about my success? Chas v’shalom! There is a new “nishmah” waiting to be attained. I have a few ideas myself, and, in case they are not enough, I can always write to the Rav.