THE MAIN QUESTION IN LIFE

By the time I came to RABASH,¹ I was already exhausted from searching and famished for truth, having looked for it fruitlessly all my life.

“What is the meaning of my life?” This question had tormented me, literally draining me, for as long as I can remember. As a child, I would lie in the tall grass of the city park, gazing up at the stars with hope and yearning, and wonder, “Maybe the stars have the answer? What is the meaning of my life? Well? What is it?!” Though my life had barely just begun, this longing was already consuming me. The longing for an unknown, exalted, genuine purpose.

The years passed, and I tried looking for the answer in science, scouring for it in books, deducing it logically. Nothing worked—I only felt worse, each effort revealing further the emptiness and futility of the endeavor. There came a point when I thought I would die having never achieved my purpose.

After moving to Israel, I spent four years in the army, repairing aircraft electronic equipment.

Then I left to open my own business, which turned out fairly successful. I bought a penthouse in an effort to mimic the lives of the rich and famous, hoping that I might lose myself in such a life.

Alas, nothing worked. I would wake up at night and come out into the yard, fighting back tears. “What does it all mean?!” I would think, casting a plea into the unknown. “At least show me where to look? Give me some direction!”

I thought that perhaps religion had the answer. The way religious people handled themselves—so collected, so confident—surely they had found the meaning of life. I drove to see a famous Russian-speaking Rabbi in Jerusalem who told me that the serpent from the Bible had had two legs. And he was completely serious. “You doubt the holy writings?!”

“Am I supposed to believe that stuff?” I asked him.
“Of course! It’s written black on white,” he replied.

Such an utterly unscientific approach scared me away.

I met with Herman Branover, a physicist who had found religion. “A man of science should have an answer for me,” I thought. But he didn’t.

I spent three months studying in Kfar Chabad², learning Talmud³ alongside teenagers, reading the Tanya⁴. Then I left.

During my wanderings, I met another soul who was searching, like me. His name was Chaim Malka, and we became friends and began to meet every evening, working methodically through all the books. Chaim would read aloud, and I would take notes as if at a university lecture. Thus, we combed through the books of RAMAK⁵ and RAMHAL.⁶

Still, I felt that the books weren’t helping. Worse, they weren’t going to help. I realized that we weren’t going to break through on our own. We needed to find a Teacher, someone who had already traversed this path. And so, we began the search.

We met with Baba Sali.⁷ Everybody talked about him being a Kabbalist. He turned out to be a simple, very pleasant man. He talked to us about what he’d seen, but he wasn’t able to explain it.

After that, I stumbled onto Berg’s Kabbalah Center. I bought up all the books they had, and met with Berg himself, even took a few lessons with him. But when he started using the cosmos in his explanations, I realized that it wasn’t for me. I just couldn’t stand any kind of mysticism.

I met with Yitzhak Zilberman in Jerusalem. He was a renowned Kabbalist who taught Kabbalah according to the Vilna Gaon (GRA⁸). However, he was a religious man, respected by all, as opposed to Berg the mystic who was universally loathed. He said to me, “You and I live among the religious, so we must study the Talmud. It will provide us cover to study Kabbalah, because nobody likes Kabbalah.”

I started studying with him. He taught a bit of the foundations of Kabbalah from the GRA’s book, Safra de-Tzniyuta. Yet, not even he could explain anything! He simply read from the book, and that was it. That made my blood boil. “What is happening here? What does it all mean?” I would ask. “Someday we’re going to know the answer,” he would answer. But I wasn’t content with “someday.” I needed answers, not promises. One day Zilberman visited me at home and saw the books of Baal HaSulam on my shelves.⁹ He went pale, pointed at them and said, “You had better take them down to the basement, out of sight.” That’s when I decided that I’d had enough.

That was my first defense of Baal HaSulam—I hadn’t yet known that I would go on to hitch my whole life to his name and legacy.

WHEN YOU HIT A WALL...

One day, I was visiting my friend Chaim Malka. It was after work. I was exhausted and drained, having literally dragged myself there. It was a chilly winter evening with drizzles and strong gusts of wind. Chaim suggested to brew some coffee and start studying, as usual. But I declined. “I just can’t do it anymore,” I said to him.

I remember that state very vividly. Everything is pointless, there’s nowhere to go from here, so why bother with life at all?!

It is a miracle when a person is brought to such a state and isn’t allowed to flee from it. You would think, why couldn’t I just get up, slam the door behind me and forget everything? I was making good money, had a wonderful family, could travel anywhere I wanted and live as I pleased. But no. You hit a wall—you’re literally shoved into it. And then, all of a sudden, a glimmer of hope is planted in your heart.

It took me many years to realize that these are the most precious moments in life—when you feel that you’ve reached a dead end. This is what’s called a prayer.

And it was in that hopeless state that I spoke the following words.

“Chaim, we are leaving right now to look for a teacher.” The words floated out of the thick fog of debility that enshrouded me. “We simply must find him. Today!”
“Where are we going to find him?” He asked. “We’ve looked everywhere.”
“I heard that some people study Kabbalah in Bnei Brak.”

Up until that moment, the thought had never even crossed my mind. I had only been to Bnei Brak once or twice before. I didn’t know the city at all. And yet, that is what came out of my mouth. “Let’s go to Bnei Brak.”

For his part, Chaim didn’t seem to hesitate for a second, agreeing readily. “All right, let’s go.”

We got into a car and drove. I remember the rain drumming on the windshield. I was driving practically blind, but I didn’t even consider going back or stopping and waiting out the rain. No, we had to keep driving, and as fast as possible.

AN ANGEL AT THE TRAFFIC LIGHT

We drove into Bnei Brak and stopped at a traffic light in the middle of the city, totally clueless as to where to go next. A solitary figure in black religious clothing was standing at the light, as if waiting for us. I opened the window and shouted through the rain.

“Excuse me! Where do they study Kabbalah around here?!”

Forty years ago, uttering the word “Kabbalah” was enough to get people to recoil as if you were a leper. Yet this man looked at me calmly and replied. “Make a left here and go straight. You’ll see an orchard with a house across from it. That’s where they study Kabbalah.”

When I told this story to RABASH, he said that this man was an angel. This is how a person is brought to the right place. A certain force takes you, turns you and guides you to a place where you find the answer to all your questions. As long as you’ve made the effort, you will certainly find it.

READING THE UPPER’S SCRIPT

We followed his directions, and indeed, after several hundred yards of driving we spotted an orange grove. And then, in the shade of orange trees, a house.

All the windows were dark, except for one, glowing dimly. We stopped, got out of the car, and walked into the building. It was completely dark save for a small room at the end of the hall. We entered it to a scene of five or six old men sitting around the table, studying.

Right on the threshold, I asked, “Is this where you study Kabbalah?” The old man at the head of the table offered an easy, nonchalant reply. “Yes, have a seat.” We sat down at the table.

They were reading The Book of ZoharZohar. Aramaic text was above, Hebrew below, and they explained it in Yiddish. My Hebrew was passable. I could read and communicate, but Aramaic and Yiddish... that was too much. I was about to get up and go search for another place. I was impatient and didn’t care what others might think of me. But Chaim held me back. He was accustomed to studying in a religious environment and thus respected “the sage and the sage’s disciples.” He stopped me with a gesture and said, “Sit!”

So we stayed until the end of the lesson. I was thinking to myself that their Hebrew was as alien to me as Aramaic and Yiddish, and couldn’t wait to get out of there as quickly as possible. But then the old man suddenly turned to us and asked.

“What is it you want?”
“We came from Rehovot. We’re looking for a place to study Kabbalah.”

I remember speaking those words. “We’re looking for a place” instead of “we’re looking to study,” because I was certain that this wasn’t that place.

“I will arrange such a place for you. Leave me your phone number. I will organize it and let you know,” the old man said.

I thought back to that evening countless times. It was the kind of Divine Providence you can never predict. I was ready to leave, run away from there. Yet, I was stopped. What joy!

I DON’T WANT TO GO

We returned to Rehovot. The next day was a regular workday. Chaim came to my workplace at around four in the afternoon and announced, “Tonight we’re going back to that place to study.” I replied that I wasn’t going, that I hadn’t been impressed by them or by their teacher, and that I didn’t understand their Hebrew. In short, studying with them was a waste of time, and we had wasted enough time already.

But Chaim wouldn’t give up. He insisted that he had promised so we had no choice, we had to go and show our respect. We didn’t need to stay long, but we had to go.

I agreed on the condition that shortly after arriving, I would pretend to have remembered having some important meeting, and we would disappear. For good.

He promised me this, and off we went.

I AM GIVEN A CHANCE

When we got there, we saw the same old man who was clearly in charge.

I didn’t yet know that this was RABASH himself—a great Kabbalist to whom I would end up owing my life—no more, no less.

I was too lowly to know it at the time. This is how a person can be stripped of his sight, his hearing, his reason. When you don’t see who’s in front of you, and you’re ready to give up and leave. But no, something keeps you from leaving, giving you the chance to hang on.

And I was given this chance.

The first hook was my noticing on the wall of the building a signpost that read “ARI-Ashlag.” I hadn’t noticed the sign the night before. I knew that the ARI was a great Kabbalist from the 16^th century. Chaim and I had tried reading his Tree of Life. I also knew about Rav Ashlag (Baal HaSulam), having read his work, The Study of the Ten Sefirot, which was anything but simple. We had also studied his Preface to the Wisdom of Kabbalah, and had even thought we had understood something. Seeing the signpost put my mind at ease somewhat. “ARI-Ashlag” meant that this really was Kabbalah.

We walked in, RABASH hailed one of the old men, calling him Hillel. He called for him as one might call for a child.

“Come, Hillel. Study with them.”

Hillel was around 65 years old at the time. He was a sickly old man with tearing eyes,

a pale face, and barely moving. And this man is going to teach us? I thought to myself.

Later I learned that Hillel was the descendant of a famous Hassidic bloodline. He could have been the head of a dynasty, but after meeting RABASH back in his youth, the two got to talking about inner work, and Hillel suddenly saw that RABASH knew things of which he was utterly ignorant. The meeting left him so shaken and inspired by RABASH’s wisdom that he dumped everything and clung to him to the end of his days.

All this I would learn about Hillel later. At the time, though, I was highly skeptical that I could learn anything from him. I started sneaking glances at the door again, thinking how to slip away... But I stayed. And I stayed thanks to RABASH. It was the way he moved. Effortless, like no one else I’d ever known. He gestured towards us, then gave me a nod and a glance, and that was all it took. I decided not to rush out just yet.

Only now do I realize that RABASH already knew everything about me.

SHOCK

We sat down in the empty room. It was dark, with thunder and lightning raging outside. It was a hard winter, but inside the building it was warm and cozy, and that, too, had an effect. Where were we going to go?! And so, we began to study.

“We usually start with The Preface to the Wisdom of Kabbalah,” Hillel said.

I immediately thought that this was going to be a good test for him, as we had studied this very book ourselves. I didn’t know at the time that “studying” in Kabbalah didn’t have the same meaning as in physics or mathematics, that knowledge had no role here. But all this would come later—whereas then I prepared myself to test Hillel. There he was: a sickly, tired old man, wiping his tearing eyes with a handkerchief, groaning and wheezing. As I stared at him sitting before us, I had no idea what was about to happen.

He proceeded to read the first sentence from The Preface to the Wisdom of Kabbalah. And offering explanations as he read...

“Rabbi Hananiah ben Akashia said, ‘The Creator wanted to honor Israel... In Hebrew, the word ‘honor’ is similar to ‘cleanse.’ This gives rise to two questions: a) What are these privileges with which the Creator wishes to honor us? b) What is this ‘dirt’ from which He wants to cleanse us?”

Hillel raised his bleary eyes to look at us, and repeated after Baal HaSulam.

“So from what does He want to cleanse us, hmm?”

Without waiting for our answer, he proceeded to explain.

Never would I forget this moment. I suddenly felt as though I’d been nailed to the chair. My whole body began to shake. I stared at him, unable to look away.

Never in my life had I heard such a clear, concise, scientific explanation. The man I saw sitting before me wasn’t some sickly old geezer, but a warrior armed with a sword and a shield. Not some tired, forgotten teacher, but a great sage whose wisdom was unparalleled in this world.

He spoke of the most complex concepts. The “quantum physics” or “rocket science” of the spiritual world, but he presented them simply, with succinct definitions, in a manner that was comprehensive and clear. He was revealing to us the great Baal HaSulam—and creating a paradigm shift in the process.

What did I feel in those moments? Imagine a person who had been suffering from a terrible pain, with a confirmed terminal illness and absolutely no hope of recovery, suddenly discovering that there was a remedy to his affliction after all, and that he would get better. It was an indescribable sense of relief.

Suddenly, I had answers to all of the personal questions that had been tormenting me: “Who am I?” “Why am I?” “Where did I come from?” As well as to the global questions like, “What is the purpose of this world?” “Of this whole universe?” And it turned out that they were all closely connected. The realization was crystal clear. This is it! The ultimate truth! And I wasn’t about to let it slip away.

Most importantly, I felt that I’d found my home. That my whole life’s path, filled with despair and hopelessness, emptiness and depression, had led me precisely here, to this house on the outskirts of Bnei Brak.

ONCE YOU’VE FOUND IT, DON’T LET GO

I didn’t even realize when the lesson had ended—just that Hillel had suddenly closed the book. Every fiber of my being demanded that the lesson would continue. How could I leave this place now? How could I be expected to deal with corporeal matters? No, impossible!

But Hillel said the following.

“I think that we will keep meeting once a week.”

Once a week?! I couldn’t bear the thought. My reply was immediate.

“We’re free tomorrow. We want to continue tomorrow. Tomorrow, please!”

And he agreed.

HILLEL

The following day, I came prepared. With a tape recorder. And so our studies began.

A few months passed, and with them my initial exuberance. I took stock of what had happened thus far and drew my main conclusion. I was on the right path, with the right teacher. I was no longer afraid of asking questions, and my questions were strictly on point. I asked about the way the upper force governed us, about the purpose of creation and how it manifested in us. Hillel handled all the questions masterfully. But I wouldn’t stop there, always digging deeper.

It wasn’t my intention to stump him or disturb the flow of the lesson—I was simply eager to delve deeper and understand more. The thirst I felt for this wisdom was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life.

For his part, Hillel only added fuel to my fire. His answers were almost instant, as if he knew in advance what my questions would be. And his explanations were so simple and specific, as if discussing a mechanical blueprint. There’s the light and there’s the vessel, and they interact with one another. And, as it turns out, this relationship between the light and the vessel explains absolutely everything.

We began studying The Study of the Ten Sefirot. He would reveal to us the system of the worlds, leading us from strength to strength. He was rich with precise, wonderful wisdom, and he knew how to convey it.

RABASH WANTS TO SPEAK WITH YOU

Our studies started in the winter, and two-three months later, closer to Passover, Hillel said to me, “Michael, RABASH wants to speak with you in private.”

I wasn’t particularly inspired by this. I had been quite content studying with Hillel as his teaching manner was after my own heart. But the strange way that Hillel looked at me then left little doubt—I had to go speak with RABASH.

RABASH called me into his office, sat me across from him, and opened a book. And so we began to study the Introduction to the Book of Zohar.

I had tried reading this introduction in the past, but had struggled to get through it. Baal HaSulam begins the article by asking a series of questions: “What is our essence?” “What is our role in the long chain of reality, in which we are but tiny links?” And so on.

RABASH read these questions, commenting on them as he did so. “How can it be that an eternal Creator, who has no beginning and no end, can give rise to worthless, ephemeral, flawed creations?”

As he read and explained, I caught myself thinking that I was struggling to follow his train of thought.

But RABASH kept reading further.

From item two or three of the article, I was hopelessly lost, as if the words were part of some strange new language. I couldn’t link them together in my mind, let alone in my heart. I grasped at each new thread, only to lose it immediately.

No, these weren’t secrets of the Torah or some sort of arcane mysteries, but the experience made me feel like a complete idiot. I had been accustomed to comprehending the material, clothing in it, illuminating it, making drawings and notes. And here I was, with all my education, feeling lost at sea.

About an hour later, RABASH ended the lesson. “That’s enough for today, we’ll continue next time.” I left him with mixed feelings, frustrated with him and with myself, but resolved to make sense of all this at our next session.

That next session arrived several days later.

Hillel informed me of it once again. “If you want, you can go visit the Rebbe¹⁰ after today’s lesson.”

We had another lesson, and again I didn’t understand a thing.

After this, Hillel no longer offered me to study with RABASH.

HAS HE ABANDONED ME?

That bothered me. I was angry with RABASH. Surely the fact that I hadn’t understood anything wasn’t my fault! I was so new! And he was going to abandon me over this?! After igniting this fire within me, he was going to leave me to burn out all alone? How could he?!

It wasn’t until later that I realized what RABASH was doing. He was testing me. Testing to see if I was going to throw a fit. Would I look for an opportunity to keep studying material that I didn’t understand at all? Or would I opt for knowledge that didn’t wound my sense of self-worth? Essentially, he was testing to see if I was worth the bother. Was I sufficiently mature for the true search, the pain, the growth demanded by this path? Would he be justified in investing in me his time and energy?

At the time I was outraged by it, but today I see how carefully he’d planned it all out.

The upper one always gives birth to the lower one. The lower cannot be born of his own volition. RABASH was testing me to see whether I wanted to change. Whether I would awaken him, like a crying baby awakens the parent. Even if it doesn’t fully understand what it needs, but simply because it feels unwell. He wanted my subconscious prayer. He wanted me to compel him to bother with me.

And so it was. I didn’t know RABASH at the time, but the fact that he “rejected” me incited in me a great desire to get through to him.

RABASH saw everything, felt everything, and kept quiet.

SOWING DOUBTS

I suddenly realized that there was another kind of study. Not the rational, scientific kind to which I’d been accustomed. And though I continued studying with Hillel, I could no longer study the way I had been before: examining the material to try and comprehend the writings and rejoicing at having succeeded in their intellectual acquisition. RABASH had spoiled this pleasure for me. He had sown in me a doubt, which then grew into a nagging thought: I now wanted to “sink into” the study material.

SLY KABBALISTS

It is thanks to RABASH that I began to understand what Baal HaSulam does to you! He lets you slide into the study, giving you hope that you can understand something. You grasp at this hope, feeling elated... And then everything disappears, leaving you stranded and despaired. How could this happen?! Everything seemed so logical and clear... Where did it all go?!

That is because Baal HaSulam has a different goal in mind. He guides you to the realization that your brain, the ability to reason you’ve been relying on your whole life, is powerless here. Understanding this as quickly as possible on your spiritual path is key. But if it only were so simple to just leave your reason behind and surrender to the unknown!

RABASH demanded of me the readiness to penetrate between the words. To make the study material transparent, so that through this transparency, I could move into a new reality. This is called inner attainment. When you attain the world that exists beyond the book, beyond its words. When, through the words, you enter a new world. RABASH left me with a feeling that this was possible.

And I realized I couldn’t miss such an opportunity.

MY NEW LIFE BEGINS

I asked Hillel about coming to the night lesson. Until then, I had only been studying in the evening.

RABASH’s regular lesson began at three in the morning and ended at six.

“I really want to come,” I said.

Hillel replied that he would speak with RABASH.

“When?”
“I’ll try to do it today.”
“Could you do it now? I’ll wait.”

Hillel looked at me for a long moment, then asked.

“What if RABASH is busy?”
“I’m not in a hurry.”

Hillel went up to the second floor, where RABASH lived, and returned not long after.

“RABASH agreed,” he said. “See you then.”

That moment roughly forty years ago marked the beginning of a new period in my life. The main period, and the only one I consider life.

WAITING FOR A MIRACLE

Living in Rehovot, each night I would get up at 2 a.m. and drive to the lesson in Bnei Brak. Jumping out of bed, I would fly to the car and speed down the road, shaking with anticipation. I wanted to be one of the first to get to that dark chilly hallway. To quickly make myself a cup of coffee and open The Study of the Ten Sefirot. Didn’t matter the page. To freeze still over the lines of text and try to feel Baal HaSulam, to penetrate the material through him... If it was even possible!

One by one, everyone would gather. RABASH would come down from the second floor, and the lesson would start.

There weren’t very many of us then, and most of them have since passed away. But I remember each and every one. I remember every moment, the way RABASH looked at us, our barrages of questions and his answers. And the times when RABASH closed his eyes, and we would sit perfectly still, afraid that the slightest movement would interrupt him.

That was how I came to study with RABASH.

And Chaim Malka decided to keep studying with Hillel.

RABASH IS AFRAID

I brought a tape recorder to the very first lesson, determined that I wasn’t going to miss a single word. After all, I had been waiting for this day for so long!

As I put the tape recorder on the table, I noticed that RABASH grew visibly afraid.

He was looking at the recorder in silence, unsure what to make of it. But he wasn’t starting the lesson.

No one had ever done anything like that—not at one of his lessons, nor at his father’s. It wasn’t customary for anyone to record anything even with a pen or pencil, let alone a tape recorder.

“You can’t turn that on,” he said to me. I tried my very best to persuade him, but all my efforts were futile. I realized that if I didn’t come up with something, I would curse myself for the rest of my life.

RABASH AGREES!

I went to Tel-Aviv and bought a special tape recorder.

I took a seat across from RABASH and proceeded to show him all the features. “This button pauses the recording, and this button can rewind the tape. You can find any word, any sentence. And this button can erase the whole thing—if you wish it.”

He listened to me carefully, then tested the recorder himself, pushing all the buttons on and off. Meanwhile, I kept telling him that we were all like this, the new generation of students who were accustomed to recording everything, taking notes and creating summaries. That I might as well not hear a thing if I don’t write it down. That was just how we were: external and empty, in dire need of fulfillment.

And he heard me. He understood that new students were going to come, and they were going to have to start somewhere. So he agreed. He was a true revolutionary in this way. He did have one condition, though: the tape recorder would be placed by his side, and he would decide when and what to record.

He went on to handle the tape recorder all of these years—and we ended up amassing more than 2000 hours of lesson recordings. As well as a good deal of diagrams.

I had sat next to him through it all, taking notes and making sketches. And sometimes he would fix my diagrams or redo them from scratch.

TO THE HEART

Some time passed, and eventually I realized why RABASH had been so against any kind of note taking. Why he treated it with a kind of mild disdain. Once he even snapped at me, “What does it matter if I told you something or not...” It was because he demanded changes within the student himself. The words he spoke needed to be internalized within, not put on paper. They had to seep through the cage of memory and get inside, reaching the very heart, and resonate there.

He was a living example of how to live. Each day he began anew, a blank page without a hint of yesterday. He understood that the Creator demanded changes in the heart, not reports about memorized material.

THERE ARE NO ACCIDENTS

I continued studying with RABASH at night, and with Hillel in the evening.

So far RABASH hadn’t expressed any particular interest towards me. To him I was just another student. If I endured and stuck around, great. If not, oh well. At least, that was what I felt at the time.

And my future might have turned out very differently if I had not been asked one morning to drive RABASH to the doctor. I happily agreed.

It was my good fortune to be at the right place, at the right time. My good fortune that others were busy and that I had a car. Because that moment marked the start of a whole new epoch in my life.

I took RABASH to the doctor. RABASH was diagnosed with an ear infection and referred to a hospital. At the hospital, the doctor said to me, “I suspect that your teacher has cancer.” My heart skipped a beat. “What do we do?” “He needs to be hospitalized right away.”

This all happened on the eve of the holiday of Shavuot. I feared that RABASH wouldn’t agree to it, that I would need to try to persuade him. I went to him and explained the doctor’s insistence. RABASH heard me out and easily agreed to being hospitalized.

That was a lesson for me. I realized that RABASH understood full well that he needed to be in top physical health in order to teach. He couldn’t afford to neglect his body, but it was the goal that determined everything. Because of the spiritual goal, the body had to remain fully functional. RABASH treated doctors’ orders like a decree from above.

From there, it was smooth sailing, which was somewhat surprising. We were given a private room. I asked RABASH when I should come back to visit him. I thought he would tell me to come back tomorrow during visiting hours, considering how law-abiding he always was. Instead, he said to me, “Come for the morning lesson.”

I shivered. To this day I remember the trepidation I felt then. RABASH is going to study with me one on one?! I hadn’t even dared to dream of such a thing!

I asked timidly.

“What time should I be here?”
“Four o’clock,” he replied.

I drove home, though it felt as though I were flying! I had to prepare.

BETWEEN HILLEL AND RABASH

I was at the entrance to the hospital at three thirty. I wasn’t granted entry, so I scaled the fence, tearing my pants in the process, nervous and hasty. Then I climbed up the fire escape to RABASH’s ward. He was already waiting for me. We sparked up—in those days you could smoke anywhere you wished.

This time he opened not the Introduction, but The Study of the Ten Sefirot.

I had such high hopes for a breakthrough, that I would understand at least something. After all, the language of The Study of the Ten Sefirot resembled that of physics. Perhaps studying privately with the teacher would do the trick, and the inner meaning of the text would reveal itself automatically? Or maybe now that RABASH treated me differently, he would explain everything properly? None of that happened. In fact, it only got worse.

He didn’t explain a thing, but simply read. I was utterly lost, and whenever I tried asking for clarification, he would just scratch his head.

“That’s just... how it is.”
“How?” I asked.
“It’s just how it is.”

I was in despair at my complete lack of understanding. I even thought to drop in on some evening lessons with Hillel so as to get the answers to all my questions. I knew that I would get them there. But I also knew that I wasn’t going to do it.

RABASH’S SYSTEM

With his apparent dryness, RABASH was as if asking me, “Where are your attainments if all you’re getting are prepared answers? Such answers don’t mold you into an investigator, but simply satisfy you. And whensatisfied , you don’t develop in yourself the void necessary to attain the Creator. Try as you might, you will not master Kabbalah with your mind. Only the heart understands.”

Despite both Hillel and RABASH being students of Baal HaSulam, these two systems were polar opposites of one another.

Hillel’s system was, “We are capable of understanding and learning.”

RABASH’s system was, “We know nothing and understand nothing.”

RABASH calibrated himself solely for attainment. Without attainment, all your knowledge isn’t worth squat. Oh, but how hard it was to come out of a lesson with RABASH feeling absolutely empty—just as Hillel’s students came out brimming with joy and inspiration. They would say to us, “What don’t you understand? It is so simple!” And they would proceed to explain!

On one such occasion, RABASH noticed me standing there, wondering whether it was better to be in joy or in despair after a lesson. He came over to me and said, “If you don’t feel emptier after a lesson, then it wasn’t a lesson!

“You must come out of a lesson feeling you have nothing. You must be screaming inside, ‘What am I supposed to do?!’ If that is the case, then the lesson was a success!”

Thankfully, I heard RABASH. I discovered in time who was standing before me. And that I needed to follow him—in step and without question.

STATES

But here’s the remarkable thing. Even though I understood this, I wasn’t impervious to doubt.

When you finally commit and tell yourself, “This is my life, this is my path, this is my Teacher,” that is precisely when—in those states of certainty—questions begin to arise. “Is it the right path? Is he the right teacher? And the goal could use some verification...” And you begin to fight them, making all sorts of mistakes in the process. They are inevitable, for you are still only a child.

Once, when I was in one such state, I came up to RABASH and said. “I am 34 years old. I intend to devote my whole life to Kabbalah. And all I care about is one question: are you the Teacher who’s going to lead me to the goal?”

I expected him to try and put me at ease and offer assurances, to calm my fears and fill me with strength and confidence. Only the opposite happened.

RABASH answered simply.

“I don’t know. You need to feel it yourself.”
“What?!” I asked, nearly screaming.
“In your heart,” he said. “There is no other way.”

He was guiding everyone to the Creator.

He never wanted his students to fix themselves on him.

RABASH LEADS

One week passed, and I noticed that RABASH had warmed up to me.

I would visit him at the hospital every morning, spending the whole day with him. I prepared for it, taking care of all my other responsibilities so that nothing would distract me. I tried my very best not to miss even a single word he said. And this required great concentration.

Being one on one with a Kabbalist of his degree isn’t easy. There were states when I would suddenly realize, to my shock, that I had no questions in me. Despite having prepared a ton of questions beforehand, I would suddenly find myself sitting before RABASH frozen, unable to speak.

It was as if RABASH were stupefying me. I couldn’t open my mouth, and he seemed to ignore me completely. Later, I often felt as though he were guiding my whole life, as if he knew everything about me and my future. And that was indeed the case.

HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE

It was our time in the hospital that helped foster the kind of true, unbreakable bond between us.

On one occasion, I couldn’t contain my torment and asked, “How can this ever be understood?” What I really meant was, “Why do you torture me so?!” He seemed to sense my state, as his answer was very simple and clear. We had been studying a scene from the Talmud, where two people are holding on to a tallit [a prayer shawl], with both claiming ownership of it. “It’s mine,” says one. “No, it’s mine,” says the other.

“What is going on here?” I asked RABASH. “Why are these two tearing the tallit in half?!”

And he suddenly said.

“The tallit is man.”

I froze in shock. His answer turned my brain inside out.

RABASH continued.

“The two tearing him apart are the two forces that have hold of man: evil and good inclinations, the will to receive and the will to bestow.”

It was so simple, yet at the same time so profound.

“And man must see himself as neutral, standing between them,” RABASH said. “He must be responsible for which of the two will speak in him. And now ask yourself, what does the Creator want from you? After all, it is He who is influencing you from both those sides! He and no one else!”

At that moment I clearly sensed the incredible depth present in him. And that I needed to hold on to him for dear life. And to thank the Creator for giving me this opportunity in life. But then, after only a few minutes, I saw before me once again the same old “dry” RABASH, opening The Study of the Ten Sefirot and starting to monotonously read from some random page. Without any explanations, without any emotions, without a shred of concern that I was back to feeling nothing, empty and lost.

Looking back, I realize that he saw right through me then. He already knew that I would remain with him, that I cared about nothing but this path, that I would never leave his side. He knew my future life inside and out. And he was preparing me for it.

MY FEARS

He kept tossing me between the frying pan and the fire. One moment I understood, the next I didn’t. One moment I felt something, the next it was gone. One moment he was great in my eyes, the next I had to fight for his greatness.

This perpetual struggle tempered me. Before I knew it, a month had passed, and RABASH was about to be released from the hospital. I was horrified. What was going to happen to me? No, this couldn’t just come to an end! I wasn’t willing to give up these night lessons together. I couldn’t imagine not making him coffee Jerusalem style, the way he liked it, adding one flat teaspoon of coffee to a boiling cup of water, no sugar. Those periods of silence when we sat together, he would close his eyes and think, and I would literally feel whom he was talking to. So I would sit there with bated breath lest I disturbed him... And when he would begin to speak with that high guttural timbre of his, I wished the night would go on forever! I would catch myself thinking that he reminded me of my grandfather. Oh, how dear he was to me! How could I go on without him?!

Our bond began there, in our hospital. “Our” because it felt as though we were both its “patients.” We both felt this way—then and later.