Fighting Ice with Fire: The Final Battle Against Amalek4 min read

The lifetime of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, incredibly consequential and remarkably brief, may be likened to a flash of lightening in the dead of night whose momentary illumination grants a measure of clarity and direction that remains long after it is gone. But in truth, Rebbe Nachman was more similar to lightening sustained – a streak of illumination successfully captured in lessons and stories, melodies and paradigms; radiant luminescence that would be unpacked in every subsequent generation until the ultimate appearance of the redemptive figure referred to in the tzaddik’s iconic declaration, “My fire will burn until the Moshiach arrives.”

One of the glowing facets through which the tzaddik’s light is refracted is his famous stories which were recorded in sefer Sippurei Maasios. The first of these imaginative tales whose every detail is saturated with the deepest secrets of the Kabbalah, “The Lost Princess,” begins with an enigmatic prelude: “Baderech” said Rebbe Nachman, “While on a journey, I told a story. Whoever heard it had a thought of teshuvah.” A mere introduction to this glorious and elaborate tale, the Breslover mashpi’im teach that these lines contain a message of their own.

In perhaps the most acute expression of Amalek’s spiritual assault, the Torah describes this wicked nation as having attacked am Yisrael as they were traveling – “asher karcha baderech,” “that they happened upon you along the way.” (Devarim 25:17) Rashi tells us that in addition to meaning “happened upon you”, the word “karcha” implies cold (“kar”), alluding to the existential frost and spiritual iciness with which Amalek seeks to extinguish the dancing flame of our spirituality. “Baderech,” along the journey from the innocence of our childhood into the complexities of an adult experience of the world, the frigid spirit of Amalek creeps in and steals away our wonder, our natural excitement for living, convincing us that we are defined by our mistakes and that Hashem no longer has interest in our efforts. It was in order to combat this devastating attack that Rebbe Nachman told his story about a lost princess and the epic quest to redeem her “baderech,” along a journey – the very same journey that leaves us susceptible to Amalek’s attack.

While the tale he proceeds to tell is packed with life-altering lessons, tools, and advice to aid us in our effort to reclaim the lost princess of youthful connection and hope, the second half of Rebbe Nachman’s introductory statement contains the primary weapon with which we may battle the spirit of Amalek. “Whoever heard it had a thought of teshuvah.”

On a basic level, the mitzvah of teshuvah allows penitent sinners to return to Hashem and a Torah life by confessing our sins, expressing regret for misdeeds of the past, and resolving not to sin again in the future. But the tzaddikim teach that on a deeper level, in addition to implying our return to Hashem, the word “teshuvah” refers to the return to ourselves – the deepest core of our existence. Rav Kook teaches that far from the artificial contortion of animal into angel this avodah represents for many, teshuvah is the most natural process for the Jewish soul, a kind of long-awaited spiritual homecoming – essence embracing Essence once more. (Oros HaTeshuvah 5:1) However, viewing teshuvah in such a manner requires us to redefine our identity: At our core, we are holy! “The soul of Man is G-d’s candle” (Mishlei 20:27); the Jewish spirit is forever dancing, yearning to leap off the wick of physicality into ego-obliterating union with the Master of the world. No matter how dirty one might become in misguided forays into the darker pockets of existence, his true identity, rooted in the Kisei HaKavod, is yet shining bright! When we understand that the yetzer hara is a decidedly foreign voice echoing within our hearts and minds, entirely removed from the holiness at our core, teshuvah is no longer seen as a battle against ourselves, but rather as the sweetest and most natural reunion with our Source in the kisei haKavod.

This, then, is the relationship between the two parts of Rebbe Nachman’s introduction to The Lost Princess. The words “Along the way, I told a story” present the problem – the Amalekian chill that seeks to cool the flame of our youthful innocence, holiness, and zest for life along the developmental journey (“baderech”) from youth to adulthood. The second part of the statement, “Whoever heard it had a thought of teshuvah” presents the solution – the more we can adopt an alternate definition of teshuvah as the return to our essential essence, the more we will be able to share in the warmth and excitement of the inner flame that even the frostiest winds cannot possibly extinguish.

In perhaps the starkest expression of the essential goodness and holiness of the Jewish soul, chazal teach that the collective Jewish spirit perpetually calls out to Hashem, “Our will is to do your will, it is only the yeast in the dough that prevents us from doing so.” (Berachos 17a) The yeast to which this teaching refers is an obvious reference to the yetzer hara, who – like yeast – causes the human ego to rise up, pushing Hashem and the ultimate purpose of life out of his line of vision. In a way, chametz may be seen as another embodiment of the Amalek within, who seeks to cut us off from Hashem by obscuring our true essence in holiness and causing us to seek physical gratification and external grandeur instead of engaging in spiritual pursuits. Indeed, Rebbe Nachman writes that Purim is a preparation for Pesach – enabling us to complete the eradication of Haman-Amalek. (Likutei Moharan Tinyana 74)

If chametz, caused by the “se’or sheb’isah,” represents the Amalekian chill of “asher karcha baderech,” this grants us a deeper perspective into why it is that we search for chametz using a candle and destroy it in fire.

As we have learned, one of the most useful strategies with which to battle Amalek’s deception is the firm certainty that no matter what we might have done or how far we may have wandered, every Jewish soul contains an irreducible kernel of glowing holiness. While Amalek attacks us along our inner travels and spreading his net of doubt over our being (“Amalek” and “Safek” famously share the same gematriya), causing us to feel as if we have forfeited our connection to Hashem and lost all hope for living an elevated life, a Jew whose clarity into the depth of the teshuvah process has enabled him to attain an unshakable awareness of his true identity will simply not be affected. Try as may to convince us that his self-gratifying physical treats, coarseness, and “chametzdik’e” arrogance are what we truly desire, our awareness of the inextinguishable flame of warmth, energy, and unbearable yearning for Hashem that occupies the very core of our identity will enable us to overcome the yetzer hara’s assault. “Ner Elokim nishmas adam.” “Even if they sin, they are called ‘Yisrael’.” (Sanhedrin 44a) At our core we are holy.

This year, as we search for the chametz with a single candle bearing a solitary flame, let us try to remember that despite all the puffed-up distractions in lives and the frost of despair and spiritual numbness that may have set in along the way, our individual neshama is ever shining, ever dancing, ever striving to grow closer to her Beloved in Heaven. And when we watch the chametz burn in a great conflagration of many flames joined as one, perhaps we can think about the collective soul of our nation from which our individual holiness derives, that mighty torch of purity, holy stubbornness, and unconditional closeness with Hashem that will ultimately succeed in eradicating all the chametz in a world steadily awakening to a relationship with our Loving Source.