Reb Yisrael Dov Ber was a chasid of the Maharash (Lubavitch). He was a man of warmth who had an inner fire that was evident in his avodas ha’kodesh, every aspect of his holy service to the Almighty. Even the brightest flame can flicker, however, and Reb Yisroel Dov Ber could not determine why his tefillos lacked their usual passion.
Davening was the benchmark of his day, and, if he did not daven well, his day (in his opinion) lacked meaning. When a good chasid has a problem he turns to his Rebbe-which he did. “Rebbe!” he cried, “Ich bin gefallen.” (I have fallen [had a spiritual decline].)
The Rebbe looked at him with the gentle eyes of a father looking at his child, and he said “Sing!”
“Rebbe, what song can I sing? I am lost. I have lost my bren, fire.”
The Rebbe repeated himself, “Sing a niggun, song.”
Reb Yisrael Dov Ber began to sing — not only from his lips, but also from the inner recesses of his heart and soul. As he sang, tears flowed from his eyes. These were not tears of despair, but tears heralding his “return.”
He had not fallen; he had forgotten where he belonged. We all go through such moments in life when we forget where we belong. A sort of spiritual slump overtakes us. Our neshamah never forgets. Its directional signal is always focused. All it needs is the song from the heart to engage it and put us back on track