Hemshech Tzaddik-Dalet Part V
This weekend several thousand leaders, from six continents
and over 100 countries, are gathering together in a powerful
convention. They are called shluchim. Messengers. This simple
name, however, carries within itself volumes of invaluable
lessons for each on of us. Lessons that have the power to
change your life forever. This essay is in honor of the
Annual International Shluchim Conference this weekend in
New York.
When it comes to big life issues, we humans have the tendency
to avoid drawing very distinct lines. And justly so. Life
is far too complex and nuanced to impose a black and white
perspective. Grey is the color of choice.
Despite this general rule (which itself, by the logic above,
should not be etched in stone), the fact is that there are
areas where lines can be drawn. And one primary one is the
big choice we make about our careers – where we will
invest the bulk of our life energies. In this area we really
have only two choices: Will you live your life driven either
by self-interest, or by dedication to a higher cause than
yourself?
The undisputed argument can be made, that even self-interest
can benefit the public. Isn’t that the basis of capitalism:
Personal gain and even greed serve as a powerful catalyst
to create products and services that benefit the public.
Even a self-interest driven individual can be charitable
and benevolent. And conversely, even dedication to a higher
cause can also be driven by self-interest, in effect, making
it just another expression and extension of personal gain
and benefit.
Yet, the very clear distinction remains between the primary
and secondary drives: One has chosen a life driven by self-interest,
which also – as an ancillary element –can happen
to benefit others. The latter has chosen a life that is
primarily driven by helping others – a cause beyond
himself – which also can satisfy his self-interest.
Another key point: You can be involved in your self-interests
without anyone else gaining anything. Or your self-interest
can be directed toward efforts than benefit many. Like the
difference between the two options of putting on a fur coat
or lighting a fire to keep warm in a cold room: By donning
a fur coat (a tzaddilk in peltz), you serve and
keep yourself warm, but no one else. Lighting a fire warms
you and everyone else in the room.
Sadly, even religious commitment today, due to its mechanization,
has become trapped beneath these two options.
I submit that one of the greatest contributions in our
time to counter the inevitable stagnation that results from
being content with a self-interest driven life, including
religious self-interest, was the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s
innovation of the concept of shlichus.
Shlichus literally means “mission.” A shliach
is a messenger sent on a mission to serve a cause greater
than him or herself: To help others. Every person on Earth
is sent here on a mission; your soul was dispatched for
you to accomplish a particular assignment, which is your
calling.
In this week’s Torah portion we read about the first shlichus
in the Bible: Abraham sending Eliezer as his emissary to
find a bride for Isaac. Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi explains
that Eliezer’s mission to join Isaac and Rebecca reflects
the general mission of each of our lives: To fuse matter
and spirit, body and soul into one seamless union (see Messenger
or Matchmaker).
Dedicating your life to a cause beyond yourself, unleashes
many powerful forces. Firstly, it frees you from the stifling
containment of your own orbit – of breathing your
own recycled air and that of your natural environment (“ghetto”).
Leaving your comfort zones creates challenges that always
bring the best out of you. Secondly, it empowers you to
become a leader instead of a follower. Finally, and above
all, it introduces into your life, your family’s life
– and into the universe – an energy of giving
instead of taking. You reverse the arrow that is, left to
its own accord, inwardly directed toward self-interest –
toward “me, me and more me,” and you turn it
outward, toward others and the larger world. Like the windows
in the Holy Temple, which were narrow on the inside and
wide on the outside, in order to allow the transmission
of the inner holy light to the outside.
In Kabbalistic and Chassidic terms this is the concept
of Ohr, light-energy, whose fundamental property
is bittul – the ability to transcend your own ego
and self-interest. In our universe made of matter and energy
(container and light) – with all matter being essentially
energy – we always have a choice: Matter, by nature and
by definition, is self-contained, concealing the energy
within and denying any root source. Energy is selfless,
always pointing to a source (of the energy). Will we choose
a life driven by matter and substance, which is selfishly
oriented; or will we seek out the energy within which directs
us to a higher source?
After explaining the first dimension, the profound humility
of the energy sensing its utter insignificance in face of
the energy source, the Rebbe Rayatz goes on (in discourse
delivered 75 years ago this week) to define the second,
higher level of selflessness: The sense that the energy
is entirely dependent and has no being without its source.
There is a fundamental difference between these two dimensions
of bittul, though both are a result of the energy’s
connection to the source. The first level of bittul
is only circumstantial. In face of its source the energy
feel utterly nullified. But not that the energy on its own
is actually insignificant. Take a candle for example. In
the light of the sun, the candle’s flame gives off
no light. It actually appears dark in comparison to the
sun’s brilliant backdrop. But move the candle away
from the presence of the sun into a dark room, then the
candle has a very significant presence.
By contrast, the second level of bittul permeates
the energy to such a point that it’s very being, even
not in the presence of the source, senses that it has no
existence of its own, only as a result and extension of
its source. The example for this would be sunlight itself:
Unlike an independent flame, the sun’s light always
“feels” that it cannot exist without the sun.
Applying this to the concept of shlichus – the
role each of us plays when we sense ourselves as Divine
emissaries on a mission to serve a higher cause (than our
own needs) – two possibilities arise in the way we serve
as messengers on our missions:
Your dedication to the cause – your bittul –
can be one in which you feel yourself utterly humble in
face of the cause you represent. Like a student who feels
absolutely trivial in the presence of his great teacher.
But this feeling does not permeate your entire being. Your
ego and personality remains intact, only nullified in the
presence of your teacher. Once you leave your master’s presence,
you feel very much of a personality.
A higher level of dedication and bittul is one
in which your entire being senses that is has no substance
and value expect as an extension of it’s source. It’s
like being “in the zone,” where you don’t
sense yourself at all; the object and the subject, the noun
and the adjective, are all one. The messenger feels that
his entire being has no substance if not for being a messenger
of the sender.
Practically, the difference between these two attitudes
is not mere semantics. Take, for example, a situation where
a student of a great teacher is faced with a serious dilemma
and does not have the ability to consult his master. In
the first instance, the student would have no choice but
to decide what to do based on his own instincts and knowledge.
If he were in the presence of his master, he would of course
defer to the master. But now that he is “on his own,”
he is left to his own devices.
In the second instance, the student has so absorbed and
integrated the teachings and methodologies of his teacher,
that even when he is not in the master’s physical
presence, the student is never “on his own;”
he feels that all his tools and his knowledge are but a
mere extension of his teacher’s, and thus he solves
the problem not with his own logic, but with the approach
of his master that he has utterly assimilated.
To move from the first to the second level student/shliach
is not just a matter of “wiring” or feelings (hergesh),
as if to say that some people are simply not capable of
reaching the higher level of dedication. Every student has
the ability, with effort and hard work, to reach a point
that he can This requires commitment, devotion, and immersion
into the teachings and spirit of the master’s thoughts
and methodologies, to the point where the student’s
mind, heart and sprit reflect and become one with the master’s.
This is one reason why the Torah commands us to “know
thy G-d,” not just to believe but to study, probe
and understand G-d and His ways. Faith alone connects you
with the Divine. But on its own it hasn’t yet transformed
you, the person. In the name of faith you defer and surrender
to a Higher Will. But where do you, as an individual, remain
standing? When faith is integrated into your system –
your mind and heart – then you become transformed
into an instrument: Your mind channels a higher intelligence
and state of consciousness, your heart channels a higher
state of emotions, and your actions, your arms and legs
and your entire body, manifest a higher, refined state of
behavior. You and your faculties have become, in effect,
agents of higher energy.
* * *
People marvel at the fact that Chabad shluchim cover the
globe. Wherever there is Coca-Cola you can find Chabad.
Others talk about their great dedication, no matter what
they will never leave their job.
I humbly submit, that the greatest story of all, is the
fact that the Rebbe understood the need to empower and to
create proactive individuals, who would transcend self-interest,
or harness their self-interest for the good of the greater
cause. Especially in times of freedom and prosperity (notwithstanding
the current economic meltdown) it is so easy to gravitate
to a state of complacency and passivity, immersed and engulfed
by self-interest.
The model of shlichus – that an individual, or a couple,
leave their comfort zone and self-orbiting life and go out
to build communities – is a model for us all: the ultimate
antidote to modern-day self-indulgence.
And this model itself we have the two possibilities discussed
above, one deeper than the next in the emissary’s
dedication to the higher cause.
But before you get too excited, there is yet another, third
and even more profound dimension of bittul. Stay
tuned.
