Beginning with the Six Day War in 1967 (to some extent even earlier), the Rebbe initiated the “Mitzvah Campaign.”

The Mitzvah Campaign involves walking over to a complete stranger, confirming their Jewish identity, and asking them questions such as, “Did you put on tefillin today?” “Do you have a mezuzah on your door?” “Do you light Shabbat candles?” The Rebbe eventually expanded the campaign to include 10 “starter” mitzvot such as keeping kosher, daily Torah study, and giving charity each day.

It was unconventional, to say the least. While standing in a supermarket, for example, you were expected to simply walk over to somebody and say, “Excuse me, are you Jewish? Let’s put on tefillin!” These strange interactions ran counter to the typical American ethos of “mind your own business.”

Furthermore, why would we begin by asking someone to put on tefillin? Wouldn’t it be more logical to first invite them to study with us about tefillin, to begin by introducing them to the whole idea of Torah and mitzvot?

Yet the Rebbe took the opposite approach. “Start with the action,” said the Rebbe. “First you put on tefillin, and then you can go learn about tefillin.”

So the big question is: does the action bring the emotion, or does the emotion bring the action? If the emotion brings the action, I have to wait until I’m in love, and then I’ll bring flowers. If the action brings the emotion, it’s the other way around.

This idea is discussed in the teachings of Chassidus on the haftarah for this week’s Torah portion—an extraordinary story about the prophet Elisha.1

Among their terrible activities of the wicked King Ahab and Queen Jezebel was the brutal oppression – and in many cases the outright killing – of the Torah scholars and the prophets of their time.

One of the administrators of the court of Ahab and Jezebel was a righteous man, a prophet himself, who happened to be an Edomite convert to Judaism. His name was Obadiah.

Obadiah was a very wealthy man and he used his monetary blessings to hide many of the prophets, saving their lives.

Ultimately, the economy turned, and Obadiah, his wealth depleted, resorted to borrowing funds to continue protecting the prophets. Deep in debt, he even borrowed from the loan sharks – the sons of the wicked King Ahab. Unable to repay the loans, and with no bankruptcy laws to protect him, they persecuted him until he died from anguish.

The sons of Ahab then focused their harassment on the administrator’s wife, Mrs. Obadiah. Finally, they threatened to come and take her two sons as slaves unless she repaid the money. It is a terrible, sad story.

A Small Flask of Oil

This is where the storyline of our haftarah picks up:

“Ishah achat” – “one woman” (the wife of Obadiah) cried out to Elisha, the great prophet of the time, and said, “Your servant, my husband, died. You knew him; he was a G‑d-fearing man. Now the loan shark is coming to take my two sons. Please help! You’re a miracle man! I need a miracle!”

So Elisha tells her, “Let’s see what I can do; what do you have in your house? Do you have anything of value? Gold, silver, precious stones? Stocks, bonds, securities? Anything at all?”

“I have nothing,” she responds. “All I have left is a small flask of olive oil. That’s it.”

“This is good!” Elisha tells her. “Here’s what you’ll do: go to all your neighbors and borrow as many jugs and jars and Tupperware as you can. Gather all of these vessels into your house. Make sure your children are there, and close the door. Then, take your flask of oil and begin to pour. Pour oil into every jar and into every container and keep pouring. As long as there are containers to fill, the oil will continue to pour.”

And it worked! Suddenly, she had a massive volume of oil! When the last of the containers was filled, the oil stopped.

She ran to Elisha and asked, “What’s next?”

“You’ve got plenty of olive oil,” the prophet told her. “Sell the oil. You’ll be able to pay all your debts and have enough money left to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”

The Antidote to Spiritual Bankruptcy

The Alter Rebbe, founder of Chabad, delivered a Chassidic discourse about this story, and many of the subsequent rebbes did as well. In a famous 1985 discourse, building upon the discourses of his predecessors and the teachings of Kabbalah, the Rebbe explained:

The “one woman” refers to the neshama, the soul within us. The soul is described as feminine – a woman, a princess.

The soul is “of the wives of the prophets,” so called because it is an extension of G‑d Almighty Himself.

The name Elisha means “turning to my G‑d.” The soul within us turns to G‑d and says, “G‑d Almighty, I have a problem.” Houston, we have a problem!

“Avdecha ishi met” – “Your servant, my husband, has died.” In Kabbalah, intellect (chochmah) is referred to as father (“av”) and husband (“ish”). The soul says to G‑d, “My intellectual commitment to Judaism is dead. I am no longer intellectually motivated to pursue Judaism. Other things in life inspire me. There’s a big world out there. I have no intellectual desire to pursue Torah and mitzvot.”

“And the collectors have come to take my two sons.” If the intellectual realm is compared to “parents,” then the sons are love and fear of G‑d, which are the product of intellectual contemplation of G‑d’s greatness.

The soul cries out, “The energies of impurity, the energies of secular life, are coming to take my ‘two sons.’ I’m about to lose my emotional connection to G‑d, to Judaism. I love other things and I fear other things.”

As I like to say in my classes: Love G‑d? I love seven-layer cake! That’s what I love. Fear G‑d? I fear earthquakes. I fear the IRS. I have many fears, and G‑d is not one of them.

The neshama is saying, “I’m going through spiritual bankruptcy. G‑d, I need Your help.”

And, of course, G‑d is there to answer.

“What do you have left in the house,” G‑d says to the soul. What does the soul have left that it can call its own?

“All I’ve got,” says the neshama, “is a small flask of pure olive oil.” What is olive oil? Symbolically, it is the pristine essence of the soul.

What is the nature of oil? If you mix olive oil with water or with any liquid, the oil rises to the top. Olive oil is pure; it’s essential. Olive oil represents the spark, the essence, which can never be diluted, lost, or assimilated.

Just Do It!

“What do you have left in the house?” G‑d says to the soul, “What do you have left?” And when the answer is that only that spark remains, G‑d says, “This is good! You’re in good shape. I want you to take lots of empty vessels, many containers. I want you to engage in activities of Torah and mitzvot. I want you to put on tefillin, I want you to light Shabbat candles, I want you to do and do and do.

You don’t feel it? That doesn’t matter. As long as you keep pouring the oil, as long as you keep doing, even if you’re not feeling it, the feeling will come. Take vessels, as many as possible, and do more and more and more.

Force yourself, if need be. And the actions—the pouring of the spark of your soul into the action of Torah and mitzvot—will revive you and will bring about a tremendous fervor, an intense emotional and intellectual connection to G‑d.

And, practically speaking, this explains why the Rebbe initiated his mitzvah campaigns: he understood that in our generation, the most essential aspect of Judaism is action.

The Rebbe emphasized that when you approach someone and ask them to put on tefillin, consider not only the immediate impact it will have on them, but also the enduring influence that one act might have on their children, their grandchildren, and all of their future descendants for generations to come.

A single experience, such as putting on tefillin, lighting Shabbat candles, or engaging in any of the campaign’s mitzvot, even just once, can awaken an inner awareness, one that takes hold of that essential spark and causes it to pour and pour and pour – infinitely and endlessly.

Let’s resolve to boldly take action, regardless of our fleeting emotions. Trust the process; first do, and the feeling will surely follow.

Watch this talk here: