We often confuse emotional involvement with spiritual depth. In Torah and Mitzvos, people talk about feeling passionate or excited. But the Torah’s focus is not on emotional highs; it’s on hergesh – being touched by something outside of yourself.
Home > Lessons > Holidays > Yamim Noraim > Teshuvah – Ubocharto Bachaim 2022 > Bechira and Hergesh, Living in the World of the Borei Olam – Tefilas Rosh Hashanah
We often confuse emotional involvement with spiritual depth. In Torah and Mitzvos, people talk about feeling passionate or excited. But the Torah’s focus is not on emotional highs; it’s on hergesh – being touched by something outside of yourself.
When we think of bechira, we tend to imagine it as a purely personal decision—our own internal reality, a reflection of our essence. This philosophical view suggests that in making choices, we reveal our true selves, as if standing alone, faced with our Shikul HaDaas. Normally, we believe that in moments of bechira, our innermost being emerges.
However, according to Rashi, when we make a choice, we encounter the Borei Olam. This encounter doesn’t happen after the choice, but during the very act of bechira. The Borei Olam takes your hand and guides it to the right path. This idea shifts our understanding of free will—it’s not a solitary exercise of intellect, but rather a process in which Hashem actively participates, steering us toward the good.
This perspective aligns with what the Rambam says about the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah:
עורו ישנים משנתכם ונרדמים הקיצו מתרדמתכם וחפשו במעשיכם וחזרו בתשובה וזכרו בוראכם.
“Wake up from your slumber, examine your deeds, return in teshuva, and remember your Creator.”
The call to “remember the Borei Olam” doesn’t necessarily mean studying deep philosophical texts before Rosh Hashanah. Instead, it suggests that within our actions—within our choices—we meet Hashem. This deeper understanding transforms how we approach the concept of bechira.
For over 30 years, I grappled with something the Mashgiach, Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, once shared. Torah Umesorah had asked him to review an educational method proposed by Kohlberg, which involved placing children in dilemmas where both choices seemed unclear. The idea was that the child should choose freely, fostering decision-making in uncertain situations. This concept mirrors the common understanding of bechira—facing a vacuum of uncertainty, with nothing to hold onto, and being forced to choose.
The Mashgiach opposed this approach. He explained that, in Judaism, bechira doesn’t occur in a vacuum of uncertainty. Instead, it involves knowing what the halacha requires, but struggling with the difficulty of carrying it out. His view seemed simplistic, almost medieval: bechira means choosing to follow the halacha even when it’s hard. I found this disappointing at first, expecting a more profound insight.
But over time, I realized there’s something deeper here. Bechira is not about creating your own reality; it’s about choosing to live in the reality of the Borei Olam. It’s not just following rules—it’s about aligning with a higher will, even when it doesn’t match your preferences or feelings.
Our mistaken approach to bechira stems from thinking that emotional involvement means spiritual depth. In Torah and Mitzvos, people talk about feeling passionate or excited. But the Torah’s focus is not on emotional highs; it’s on hergesh—being touched by something outside of yourself.
There’s a critical distinction between a feeling (regesh) and being touched (hergesh). Feelings are centered around the self—joy, pain, excitement—triggered by external events but ultimately happening within us. We remain at the center. In contrast, hergesh shifts the focus to something beyond ourselves. The external reality becomes the center, and we are touched by it. This experience is far more delicate, involving thoughtful engagement with the world around us.
For example, imagine a father struggling with anger while dealing with his strong-willed children. Their behavior triggers his anger, which already resides within him. But if he shifts his focus outward—putting the child’s experience at the center—he might see the child’s distress. This understanding touches him, fostering a new kind of response.
The ability to experience hergesh requires intellectual engagement and hisbonenus, connecting thought with emotion. This is where the intellect and the heart meet in Torah. It’s not enough to simply feel; you must think deeply about the mitzvah in front of you until it touches you.
Our problem is that we perform Torah and Mitzvos according to our feelings. We prioritize what resonates emotionally, avoiding what doesn’t align with our personal preferences. Someone may feel deeply connected to learning Torah but be indifferent toward Bein Adam LeChavero. This approach leads us to selectively engage with aspects of Torah based on our emotional inclinations.
But true bechira means allowing the Borei Olam to guide our hand, leading us to actions that might not align with our emotions. It’s about being touched by the mitzvah, even when it doesn’t naturally resonate with us. This is the deeper meaning behind Ubocharto BaChayim—choosing to live in Hashem’s world, not our own.
It’s not just about performing an action. The Torah says you must choose life, so this choice must involve more than simple execution. There has to be an emotional component; not an emotional trigger, but a deep, meaningful connection. Bechira should create a hergesh, a sense of being touched by the thing itself.
This inner work of bechira is the central point of all Torah and mitzvos: to live within the world of the Borei Olam. The feeling of being touched, the hergesh, doesn’t come automatically; it requires hisbonenus — contemplation and deep thought. A feeling that arises spontaneously is an emotional reaction, something that excites me temporarily. But hergesh—being deeply touched—comes from dwelling on the matter until the initial excitement fades, and something deeper is created within. This is one of the most profound aspects of the soul: the ability to be touched by ruchniyus.
A common misconception is that being emotionally involved in Torah means reaching the levels of great figures like Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz in learning or Rav Don Segal in tefillah, full of visible passion. But trying to imitate these figures without understanding the deeper meaning behind their emotional involvement can leave us feeling inadequate because we can’t replicate their intensity. Torah doesn’t demand this outward display of excitement. Instead, it demands a delicate, spiritual connection—a hergesh, not a temporary emotional high. Torah is full of life, but it’s a subtle, ruchnius’dike life.
The same holds true for tefillah. When you enter into tefillah, especially on Rosh Hashanah, it’s like stepping into the world of the Borei Olam. You don’t need to analyze every word or force emotional reactions. Instead, it’s about allowing yourself to be immersed in that world, to be touched by it, like a good tourist who experiences the place naturally, without rigidly following a guidebook.
An example of being touched by tefillah is the section of Zochreinu L’Chaim. We ask Hashem to write us in the Sefer HaChayim—the Book of Life. But what does it mean for life to be written in a book? Not just your name, like signing a guestbook at a hotel, but your actual life. The actions of the past year—how many of them are we ready to have written down permanently? This simple thought leads to a deeper reflection and can touch you with a quiet, profound sense of awe. You don’t need to be overwhelmed with fear; just calmly contemplating this idea can bring about a real hergesh.
Stepping into the world of the Borei Olam is the core point of V’chein Tein Pachdecha, where we’re asking for pachad (fear) of Hashem. Today, people often reject this idea, saying “I don’t want fear; I work better with Ahava or motivation.” But when we say תן פחדך, we’re asking for the ability to break out of our own preferences, to stop living according to our personal feelings and desires. Pachad breaks the guf kasheh, the formidable body—not just the physical strength, but the inner resistance, the overwhelming emotions that insist on following their own way.
To live in the world of the Borei Olam, we must be willing to go beyond our preferences and feelings. Hashem sometimes places us in situations that aren’t comfortable or aligned with our emotions, like dealing with mundane tasks when we’d rather be involved in something more lofty. For example, imagine you’re in the middle of delivering a deep d’var Torah at the Shabbos table when your child needs their diaper changed. In that moment, Hashem puts your hand on the diaper, asking you to do something that doesn’t excite you, but it’s still His will.
This is true bechira—choosing to live in the world of the Borei Olam, even when it doesn’t align with what you’d prefer. The key isn’t just to perform the action, but to live in it with chiyus, allowing it to touch you.
Ultimately, bechira is about letting the Borei Olam guide you, even in areas that don’t immediately resonate with your feelings. This approach transforms your actions and your relationship with Torah and mitzvos. Instead of chasing excitement or emotion, you allow yourself to be touched by the subtle, ruchnius’dike life that Torah offers.
As we approach Rosh Hashanah, this shift in perspective is crucial. We must be willing to be touched by the world of the Borei Olam, to allow Him to break through our preferences, and in doing so, to choose life. When we do this, the Borei Olam sees that we are living in His world, and we become deserving of life in the deepest sense. This is the true preparation for the Din of Rosh Hashanah and a pathway to zechus for the coming year.