The Secret of the Jewish Heart: The Fire Burning Beneath the Rust
Lesson No. 6 | Monday, Parashas Behar, 8 Iyar 5755 (Continued from No. 5)
How can one discover the Divine spark hidden within every person? Rabbi Berland shlit"a delivers a fascinating lesson on the power of "Shiviti Hashem l'negdi tamid (I have placed Hashem before me constantly)," the parable of the pauper and the millionaire, and the wondrous story of the Baal HaTanya and the miserly rich man who taught us all a lesson about the Jewish heart that burns beneath mountains of ash.
Shiviti Hashem L'negdi Tamid (I Have Placed Hashem Before Me Constantly)
The Gemara in Tractate Avodah Zarah teaches us the foundational principle to "strengthen oneself like a lion in the morning for the service of his Creator." The goal is for a person to be the one who awakens the dawn, or at the very least, not to be late for the time when the congregation prays. This spiritual work connects to the constant commandment: "Shiviti Hashem l'negdi tamid (I have placed Hashem before me constantly)"—to visualize the holy Name of Hashem before one's eyes at every single moment.
Rabbi Nasan of Breslov explains in Likutey Halachos (Laws of Arising in the Morning, page 9) that when a person wakes up in the morning and breaks his sleep for the sake of Torah and prayer, he elevates the Malchus (Kingship), the holy Shechinah (Divine Presence). The most auspicious time for this is waking up at Chatzos (midnight), or at least during the hours before sunrise. During these times, the Shechinah begins to rest upon the person, and he begins to feel Godliness.
But the question arises: How can a person, who is ultimately just physical matter, feel Godliness? After all, a human being is made of physical matter that is even worse than a table or a chair. A table and a chair stand quietly; you can place books on them and they do not resist. But a person? Put a book on him, and he might throw you kilometers away. A person possesses a physical nature that rebels. He knows that Hashem is in the world, yet he still rebels. Say "Hashem" to him, and he might jump as if bitten by a snake.
To merit "Shiviti Hashem l'negdi tamid," a person must take actions that will cause the Shechinah to agree to rest upon him, to penetrate his 248 limbs and 365 sinews. This begins with waking up early, at the time when "Rachel"—the Kabbalistic secret of the Shechinah—ascends. Then, the person merits to know Hashem, to feel the reality of Hashem, until he no longer sees human beings before his eyes, but only Hashem, may He be blessed.
Standing Like a Pauper at the Door
When a person merits to see Hashem before his eyes, all of his movements change. He no longer comes to Hashem with demands: "Master of the Universe, give me, give me, give me." One who wakes up at Chatzos and feels Hashem stands before Him like a destitute man, like a pauper, poor and needy.
It is like a person standing before a great millionaire asking for a donation. If he knocks on the door with audacity and shouts, "Well, give me the hundred dollars already!" they will slam the door in his face. But if he stands in shame, in submission, lowering his head and pleading with supplications—then compassion is awakened for him. When a person comes in submission and with supplications, he melts away all the kelipos (spiritual husks) surrounding the heart.
Godliness is entirely about giving, and in order to connect to it, one must remove the interfering kelipos.
The Rich Man and the "Rusty Coin"
A wondrous story is told about the Baal HaTanya (Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi), who went together with Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk and Rabbi Shlomo of Karlin for the urgent mitzvah of pidyon shvuyim (redeeming captives). They needed ten thousand rubles immediately to save a Jew from death, and they decided to go specifically to a certain rich man who was known for his terrible miserliness. This rich man was surrounded by walls, iron doors, and dogs, and had never given a decent charitable donation.
When the tzaddikim arrived at his home, the rich man opened the door and gave them one small "kopeck" coin—but the coin was covered in rust. The rust was thicker than the coin itself. Usually, paupers who received such a coin from him would throw it back in disgust, or run away out of fear of the dogs.
But the Baal HaTanya surprised him. He took the rusty coin, hugged it, and kissed it with enthusiasm: "Oh, what precious tzedakah (charity)! What a master of charity you are! What a heart of gold you have! Where can one find such a generous person in our generation?" He showered him with praises as if he had given him a precious treasure.
The tzaddikim began to walk away, and after five meters, the rich man called them to return. "Come back," he said, and gave them another kopeck—this time without rust. Again, the Baal HaTanya hugged and kissed the coin, praising and extolling the broad heart of this Jew. They walked away again, and the rich man called them back once more, giving them ten kopecks. This repeated itself—a ruble, ten rubles, a hundred rubles—and each time the tzaddikim showered him with love and praises, until the rich man gave them the entire ten thousand rubles needed to redeem the captive.
Blowing on the Coals
The Chassidim asked the tzaddikim: "How did you know? How did you manage to extract the money from him when he is known as the 'Master of Rust'?"
The answer lies in the secret of the Jewish heart. That rich man later recounted: "Ten years ago, I gave a kopeck to a pauper, and he threw it in my face. I was hurt to the depths of my soul. I said to myself: I work hard for my money, I don't sleep and I don't eat, and they disrespect it? From that day on, I decided that every pauper would only receive this rusty coin."
Over the years, mountains of rust piled up on the rich man's heart. Anger, hurt, bitterness. But beneath all the mountains of rust and ash—there is a Jewish heart that burns for Hashem, may He be blessed. Every Jew has a burning heart that can set the whole world ablaze with its love for Hashem.
This is the great foundation: "Dustiness" accumulates on the heart. Sometimes it is an insult from a fellow Jew, sometimes an improper sight, sometimes anger—and thus mountains of dust pile up, covering the fire. The role of the tzaddikim of the generation is to act as the "wind"—to blow and fan the ashes off the coals. The moment the dustiness is removed, it is revealed that beneath the surface a perpetual fire burns, as it is written, "A perpetual fire shall burn upon the altar; it shall not go out."
This is true even for the greatest wicked person. On the contrary—the further away he seems, the greater the soul and the more immense the power he possesses. All the melancholy and sadness stem solely from this covering. If we only know how to blow away the dustiness, a fire of holiness will burn there that can bring the entire world back in teshuvah (repentance), in the aspect of Eliyahu HaNavi who knew how to ride horses of fire in a whirlwind to heaven.
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