Don't Pity Him: Your Child Has Powers You Don't Recognize

00:00 There is a fundamental question that comes up when we talk about education. Really, it is a broader question—not just about education, but about how we view human beings in general. People ask it, and psychology discusses it in all sorts of ways: What is a person, at their core? Is a person fundamentally good? Or fundamentally bad? It is a very simple and very deep question, one that has been discussed for generations. In modern psychology, we can see, broadly speaking, what we might call the positive approach. It holds that a person is fundamentally good: a person is born with a healthy soul, a good soul, and good desires, and we just need to guide them and point them in the right direction. Then there is the approach that says the opposite: a person is fundamentally wild, with corruption and evil within them arising from various things present from birth, and our job is to educate them and shape their character. What does the Torah say about all this? What is the right Jewish approach? Which view do we take? The differences are enormous. If we think a child is fundamentally good, then there is not much for us to do besides show them the way. In other words, they are born essentially perfect, good, and lovely; we just need to accustom them to proper habits. “Educate a child according to his way”—accustom them to good habits and good behavior, until little by little they become a good person. Is that what we are supposed to do in education, or do we say otherwise? In Judaism, we sometimes find verses that seem to contradict each other: “For the inclination of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” Rashi says: from the moment he is born, he is already inclined to evil. “Sin crouches at the door,” it says in Parshas Bereishis, in the story of Kayin. And “man is born like a wild donkey’s colt.” In other words, at birth, a person is a wild

02:19 creature. So we see various verses that look at a person as wild. On the other hand, no: a person is the handiwork of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A person is the crown of creation, something utterly wonderful. So which is it? What exactly is the right approach? Of course, how we see this makes a very, very big difference in how we approach a child. Are we supposed to change them, correct them, transform them—to see a wild creature whom we must turn into a human being? Or is it the opposite: a sweet, wonderful, perfect child whom we simply need to guide along the way? The question of all questions is: What is the right Jewish way to look at this? Today we will discuss this subject through the lens of the month of Elul. We are now in the month of Elul, so I will come to it through Elul. There is a chapter of Tehillim that we say every day, according to the custom of saying it twice daily beginning on Rosh Chodesh Elul. The custom is to continue saying it until Hoshana Rabbah. So it is one of the things that accompanies us throughout this whole period, the wonderful days at the end of the year and the beginning of the year. We recite this chapter of Tehillim, chapter 27, which begins, “Of David: Hashem is my light and my salvation.” King David says that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is his light and his salvation. That is, He illuminates my path; He is my light, and He also brings me salvation. He saves me and rescues me from all kinds of difficulties and challenges along the way. And not only that: “Hashem is the strength of my life.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives me strength and power as well—“whom shall I fear?” That is how this chapter of Tehillim begins. When we look at the chapter, what is it speaking about, and why do we say it

04:32 during this period? We find some very wonderful things in this chapter. If we take its overall inner theme, it speaks about war: “Though an army encamp against me, my heart will not fear; though war rise against me, in this I trust.” “One thing I have asked of Hashem, that I seek: to dwell in the house of Hashem.” What exactly is King David asking for? It is really a request that each of us makes, and it is especially connected to this period—that is why we say this chapter every day at this particular time. It speaks about war: the inner struggle each of us has. The Alter Rebbe speaks to us about this struggle in the Tanya. The Tanya is, in fact, a book about struggle, from beginning to end. It is “the book of the beinonim,” as the Alter Rebbe calls it. The Tanya is founded on this point: a Jew’s life is a life of struggle. The Alter Rebbe teaches us that we have two souls: a G-dly soul and an animal soul. In other words, a person was not created with just one soul. If there were only one soul, we would ask whether it is fundamentally good and needs to be guided, or fundamentally bad and needs to be broken and corrected. The Alter Rebbe teaches us in the Tanya, based on the writings of the Arizal and the books of Kabbalah—and indeed on the Gemara as well—that every person is made up of two souls: the G-dly soul and the animal soul. The Alter Rebbe explains in the Tanya that when a baby is born, the animal soul is there first. That is why he explains the animal soul first. The animal soul is not some brutish beast. It means the soul that gives us life. A person feels that they are alive, that they are here: I exist. From the moment a baby

06:46 is born, they feel that “I,” with its physical and emotional needs: I want to eat; I’m hungry; it hurts; I’m crying; I feel good; I’m happy. Give it to me. I deserve it. There is this sense of “I,” and it keeps developing. If we do not work on it, it can also turn into selfishness and self-centeredness. That sense of self can lead to pride, cravings, and all sorts of negative traits that can grow out of that one point. That is our animal side. On the other hand, the Alter Rebbe tells us in Tanya, chapter 2, “The second soul in a Jew is truly a part of G-d above.” There is the neshamah. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives every Jew this G-dly part: “He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.” This is said not only about Adam, the first man, but about every Jew. The G-dly soul is a part of G-d. Hakadosh Boruch Hu breathes this G-dly part into every Jew from His innermost essence, from the deepest place. It gives us infinite G-dly strength: the power of faith, the power of self-sacrifice, the power to cleave to and unite with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. As is known, although the G-dly soul comes together with a person at birth, it takes time to develop. According to what is brought in the Midrashim and the teachings of our Sages, this happens primarily at bar mitzvah. The soul of holiness begins to enter at the bris, but its full entry is at bar mitzvah. That is why one then becomes obligated in the mitzvos, as is known. But the point is that a person is a complex being. Based on this, the Alter Rebbe explains that our life is one great struggle: the struggle between the two souls, the G-dly soul and the animal soul. There is a struggle over the body, its limbs, the faculties of the soul, our thoughts, our speech, our actions—over every detail of life there is

09:05 The war between the two souls. The animal soul is the soul that tries to build up a person’s selfishness more and more, to disconnect him from the inner, G-dly purpose of life, to turn him into someone who, as we said, is very self-centered and thinks about himself, and so on. The G-dly soul wants to reveal the G-dly light within us, to bring us closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to become self-nullified before the G-dly light, to connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to serve Hashem with love, awe, and joy. That is a person’s life. So we understand that there is a war here, and this is what we pray about every single day during Elul. We know there is a war. It’s no joke. It’s a serious war. There is a struggle, there is tension, and it happens every moment, every day. At every opportunity, I face a decision about which direction to take. Two voices speak to us at every stage of life, and this brings us to the request we make in our prayers each day. First we say, “In this I trust,” and “this” refers to the G-dly soul. That is how it is explained in the works of Chassidus. “In this I trust.” “This” is in the feminine form; it refers to the Shechinah. It is the G-dly power of the Shechinah within the body of a Jew. It is the G-dly power, the G-dly spark within me, and therefore I trust in the power of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that dwells within my soul. With that power, I can prevail. In other words, on the one hand, I know there is a war, and it is a difficult war. On the other hand, “in this I trust”: I go forward with confidence in the power of the Shechinah within my body, the G-dly power within me. I am certain I will win the war. And then we continue with the request in our prayers: “One thing I have asked of Hashem; this I seek: to dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life.” A Jew asks that the soul,

11:26 the G-dly light, the G-dly power, be revealed in the deepest and strongest way. “One thing I have asked.” Chassidus explains that “one” refers to the soul’s highest level. The soul itself has many levels and many names—“it is called by five names.” The highest level is the “one,” the yechidah. “One thing I have asked of Hashem”: that the yechidah of the soul be revealed—the capacity for mesirus nefesh, the deepest power of the soul. As the Alter Rebbe explains, everyone has this power. Every Jew has that “one,” the yechidah, an essential bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. We inherited it from our forefathers. That is why, when a Jew faces an extremely difficult test that calls for mesirus nefesh, this capacity can awaken, enabling him to withstand the hardest tests. We have seen this throughout the history of the Jewish people, in every generation, right up to this most recent generation: Jews showing mesirus nefesh rather than, G-d forbid, severing their connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But what happens? There is a spirit of folly. That spirit of folly consists of the thoughts that come to us, the yetzer hara that comes to confuse us. It says, “Nothing will happen. This is a small transgression; nothing will come of it. You can do teshuvah afterward; Hashem will forgive you,” and so on. All kinds of calculations cause a person to stray from the path and become confused, to think that it won’t— And so, little by little, a person grows more distant from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the war of life. This is where a Jew’s work comes in—our work, our prayer. We ask Hakadosh Boruch Hu to open our eyes, to give us the right perspective, and to help us recognize the wonderful strengths we possess. And that is the message King David conveys in this chapter: “One thing I have asked of Hashem: to dwell in the house of Hashem all the days of my life.” May I make the right choice; may I have clarity; may I have that one and only desire, the one

13:37 and only desire to be with Hakadosh Boruch Hu in the house of Hashem all the days of my life. After that we say, “My heart says on Your behalf, ‘Seek My face’; Your face, Hashem, I seek.” To reveal that inner dimension, to reveal the G-dly power within me—that is the G-dly power. “For He stands at the right hand of the needy, to save him from those who judge his soul.” The Alter Rebbe says in Tanya that every Jew has strengths, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu is on the side of the G-dly soul. Of course—the soul is “an actual part of G-d above.” So when this war takes place, “He stands at the right hand of the needy.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu is on our side. He gives us strength. The moment a Jew decides to awaken his will so that the G-dly soul will overcome the animal soul, “One who comes to purify himself is assisted.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu helps him. He gives us the strength for the G-dly power to become stronger and prevail, because it is a G-dly power. It has infinite strength. The animal soul’s power is very superficial, shallow, external. From the outside it looks strong and formidable. It comes with all kinds of desires and cravings, and I feel an enormous yetzer hara pursuing me. But the truth is that the yetzer hara is only an outer shell. It is like a balloon puffing itself up; inside, it has no real power. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives it the power to challenge a person only so that the person will discover the greater, stronger powers within himself and defeat it. That is the whole story behind it. And so we conclude the chapter: “Hope in Hashem; be strong and let your heart take courage, and hope in Hashem.” A Jew hopes and trusts in the G-dly power, in the strength that Hakadosh Boruch Hu will give him—and does give him—to win the war. That is the work of these days, of “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine”: a Jew drawing closer to Hakadosh

15:42 Boruch Hu with the confidence that, in truth, I am above the enemy—above the yetzer or the animal soul that pursues me and wants to bring me down. And this is also the connection to the time, to the weekly parsha. The weekly parsha says, “When you go out to war against your enemies.” There are two messages here, each of them important, as we discussed. First, we need to know that there is a war. There is a war, a war against your enemies. There is an enemy, and the hardest enemy is the enemy within: the yetzer, the animal soul. “The inclination of man’s heart is evil from his youth.” Before a person is born, the yetzer is there, trying to bring us down, trying to subdue us. “Sin crouches at the door.” We need to know this, and we need to teach our children that this war exists and is real. There is a war. But the good and important news we need to convey is that “when you go out to war”—even before you begin fighting, when you are only going out—you are “above your enemies,” as the Rebbe would always say. You are above the enemy. In a maamar on this week’s parsha, “When you go out to war against your enemies,” the Alter Rebbe explains that a Jew must know that every day the war begins anew. Every day is a war. The Zohar says that each day’s prayer is that day’s war. So there is a war. I begin to daven, wanting to draw closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and immediately distracting thoughts arise—unwelcome thoughts, all sorts of thoughts about things going on in my life—and I lose my connection to the davening. That is the daily war. Every day there is a battle with Amalek, who comes to cool us off when I want to do a mitzvah, when I want to daven and draw closer to Hashem. But what is the good news? The message—and this is the message we need to tell ourselves and pass on to our children, to raise them with this wonderful message—is: there is a war, but always remember that you are above

17:56 Your enemies. You are not on equal footing with them. You are a Jew; you have a part of G-d above, a G-dly spark. That is why Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives you the strength to overcome the enemy. And this is the very first line with which the Alter Rebbe begins the Tanya. The Tanya begins: “It was taught at the end of chapter three of Niddah: They administer an oath to him: Be righteous and do not be wicked.” Before a baby is born, before he comes down into the world, the Gemara in tractate Niddah tells us that he takes an oath. What does he swear? “They administer an oath to him: Be righteous and do not be wicked.” What is this oath? To whom is the oath given? Why is it given? What is the meaning of this oath? As the Alter Rebbe explains, the oath gives strength. When a person takes an oath—and we know that taking an oath is something prohibited, something very serious—the point of an oath is that a person commits himself, brings out deep inner reserves of strength, and says, “I will do this under any circumstances, at any cost.” That is an oath. An oath is a person binding himself to something, taking it seriously and drawing out the strength to do it despite the challenges and difficulties. That is the whole essence of an oath. So Chassidus explains that the word mashbi’im, “they administer an oath,” can also be read in the sense of satisfying someone, making him full. In other words, they give us the strength and fill us up. They make a person full—full of strength, full of energy, with everything he needs to win the battle. So it is precisely when the soul descends into a body, into this world full of kelipos and the sitra achra, that the oath comes. Up above, the soul is pure. In Gan Eden, everything is good; it does not need an oath. But when the soul descends into the world, and here

20:14 it begins from the moment he is born—“sin crouches at the door”—the battle against your enemies. That is when the oath comes, giving a person the strength and telling him: You have the ability. True, “man is born a wild donkey.” True, you have bad traits and bad middos, and you have an animal soul, with all that entails. But you do not need to be overwhelmed by it. You have a pure soul. You have an actual part of G-d above, and you have been given every strength you need—more than the soul has up above in Gan Eden. “They administer an oath to him”: the oath is an added strength, an inner reserve of strength, so that you can truly fulfill your role and turn darkness into light. As the Alter Rebbe cites in Tanya in the name of the Zohar, the entire purpose of the soul in this world is to turn darkness into light. And turning darkness into light begins within a person himself: the bad middos, the wrong behaviors, the inner darkness, the wildness within us. We have all the strength we need to work on that darkness, correct it and improve it. This battle is what we need. The message is that, on the one hand, we must know that this really is a battle. On the other hand, we must know that you are “above your enemies”: even before you begin the battle, you stand above the enemy. “One thing I have asked of Hashem”—that “one thing,” the yechidah of the soul, which is bound to Hakadosh Boruch Hu in an essential bond. That gives you the ability and strength to reveal what is within. So sometimes we feel too sorry for a child and wonder what we can ask of him. He is struggling; things are hard for him; he is weak. But if we truly believe that he is “above his enemies,” if we believe in the strength with which he is endowed, the strength Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives every child and every individual, then we only need to reach that place: awaken it, speak to him about it, educate him about it, tell him

22:28 about the wonderful strengths he has, and accompany him along the way with that understanding. We can give him the ability to truly turn darkness into light, turn bad into good, improve his middos and his behavior, guide him along the path of Torah and mitzvos, and reveal the G-dly light within him, his G-dly soul, so that he will truly be, as the verse says, “offspring blessed by Hashem.” May Hakadosh Boruch Hu help each and every one of us to have true nachas, to truly derive nachas from every one of our children and students, and may they all follow the right path. “Educate a child according to his way; even when he grows old, he will not depart from it.” May they be “offspring blessed by Hashem.” May we be granted a good inscription and sealing, a good and sweet year both materially and spiritually, with everything we need—children, health, livelihood—and the true and complete Geulah through our righteous Moshiach.