Walls By Yanki Tauber
L’Chaim | January 21, 2025
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Walls By Yanki Tauber

L’Chaim | June 27, 2025

A common conception is that human creativity, particularly artistic creativity, will flourish only under conditions of unbridled freedom.

The history of man’s attempt to evoke beauty and meaning with the materials of life has shown the very opposite to be the case: that “oppressive” circumstances have stimulated humanity’s most profound and innovative creations, while conditions of unmitigated freedom yield lesser and shallower works. The challenge to reduce a landscape to a limited size is what makes a great painting; the need to express a thought with a limited number of words is what makes a great poem.

GALUT

The 613 commandments (mitzvot) of the Torah are a bridge by which mortal man achieves connection with his Creator. There are hundreds of mitzvot that can be observed only when the Holy Temple is standing in Jerusalem. Indeed, the Torah forbids their actual observance in our present circumstances.

So our current state of galut (exile) is much more than a physical displacement. Since the destruction of the Temple and our exile from the Holy Land, certain venues of connection with G-d have been closed to us.

THE POETRY OF PRAYER

The Talmud cites an interesting rule of etiquette governing guest-host relations: “Whatever the host instructs, you must do, except when he says ‘Get out of my house.’“

Chassidic teaching applies this to our relationship with G-d: As “guests” in G-d’s world we must obey all that He instructs us to do—except when He banishes us from His presence.

So even as we submit to its decrees, we do not reconcile ourselves with the phenomenon of galut. When G-d commands, “Do this” or “Do not do this,” we obey; yet we refuse to accept the galut per se, refuse to accept the closing of venues in our relationship with G-d.

And it is from this incessant struggle—from this unremitting tension between our acceptance of the curbs of galut and our striving to break free of them—that our most “creative” achievements in our relationship with G-d arise.

For example, the deeper significance of the korbanot (animal offerings) that were offered on the altar in the Holy Temple is that man should sublimate the “animal soul” within himself, refining his naturally self-oriented drives and desires. Today, we achieve this through prayer.

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE

Daily we pray for and await the day that our lives will be freed from the confines of galut. Yet there is something very special about our present-day struggles and the unique potentials and achievements they exact from our souls.

To strain the bounds of galut, while taking care not to overstep these bounds; to conform to the will of G-d, while appreciating that it is G-d’s desire that we contest His will whenever it dictates that we limit our connection with Him—this has yielded the most profound and innovative achievements in the divine art of life.

Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Sukkot 5751 (1990) and on other occasions.

A common conception is that human creativity, particularly artistic creativity, will flourish only under conditions of unbridled freedom.

The history of man’s attempt to evoke beauty and meaning with the materials of life has shown the very opposite to be the case: that “oppressive” circumstances have stimulated humanity’s most profound and innovative creations, while conditions of unmitigated freedom yield lesser and shallower works. The challenge to reduce a landscape to a limited size is what makes a great painting; the need to express a thought with a limited number of words is what makes a great poem.

GALUT

The 613 commandments (mitzvot) of the Torah are a bridge by which mortal man achieves connection with his Creator. There are hundreds of mitzvot that can be observed only when the Holy Temple is standing in Jerusalem. Indeed, the Torah forbids their actual observance in our present circumstances.

So our current state of galut (exile) is much more than a physical displacement. Since the destruction of the Temple and our exile from the Holy Land, certain venues of connection with G-d have been closed to us.

THE POETRY OF PRAYER

The Talmud cites an interesting rule of etiquette governing guest-host relations: “Whatever the host instructs, you must do, except when he says ‘Get out of my house.’“

Chassidic teaching applies this to our relationship with G-d: As “guests” in G-d’s world we must obey all that He instructs us to do—except when He banishes us from His presence.

So even as we submit to its decrees, we do not reconcile ourselves with the phenomenon of galut. When G-d commands, “Do this” or “Do not do this,” we obey; yet we refuse to accept the galut per se, refuse to accept the closing of venues in our relationship with G-d.

And it is from this incessant struggle—from this unremitting tension between our acceptance of the curbs of galut and our striving to break free of them—that our most “creative” achievements in our relationship with G-d arise.

For example, the deeper significance of the korbanot (animal offerings) that were offered on the altar in the Holy Temple is that man should sublimate the “animal soul” within himself, refining his naturally self-oriented drives and desires. Today, we achieve this through prayer.

PUSHING THE ENVELOPE

Daily we pray for and await the day that our lives will be freed from the confines of galut. Yet there is something very special about our present-day struggles and the unique potentials and achievements they exact from our souls.

To strain the bounds of galut, while taking care not to overstep these bounds; to conform to the will of G-d, while appreciating that it is G-d’s desire that we contest His will whenever it dictates that we limit our connection with Him—this has yielded the most profound and innovative achievements in the divine art of life.

Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Sukkot 5751 (1990) and on other occasions.

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