מִשִּׂיחוֹת אַאַמוּ"ר: עֶס אִיז אַ מַעֲלָה נִפְלָאָה, וואָס דעֶר אוֹיבּעֶרשׁטעֶר בָּרוּךְ הוּא אִיז מְזַכֶּה אוּן מעֶן קְרִיגְט אַ חוּשׁ מִיט אַ געֶשׁמאַק אַ אִידעֶן אַ טוֹבָה טאָן, בִּיז אַז יעֶנעֶר וועֶרט בּאַ אִים טַייעֶרעֶר וִוי עֶר בּאַ זִיך, וואָרוּם אוֹיף זִיך קעֶן עֶר געֶפִינעֶן כַּמָה טְעָמִים פאַר וואָס עֶס קוּמְט אִים זאָל, חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, זַיין נִיט גוּט, אָבּעֶר אוֹיף דעֶם אַנְדעֶרעֶן אִיז דאָס נִיט שַׁיָּךְ כְּלָל.

My revered father, the Rebbe [Rashab], once said: “It is a wondrous trait, when G‑d grants a person a warm sensitivity and a pleasurable satisfaction in doing a fellow Jew a favor — to the point that he cherishes him more than he cherishes himself. For a person can find many reasons to explain why he himself deserves [to be challenged by] difficulties, whereas such assumptions about someone else are unthinkable.”1

A Story with an Echo

In the letter from which the above passage is taken, the Rebbe Rayatz relates how he and his father, the Rebbe Rashab, were once at a health spa in France. His father spent several days speaking to him about the importance of meditating on chassidic conceptswhile wearing tallis and tefillin, in preparation for prayer. One morning, as they took a walk on the seashore, the Rebbe Rayatz was overcome by the beauty of the scenery — and also by the G‑dly light that shone on his father’s face.

They walked together for a long time in silence. Suddenly, without apparent reason, his father turned to him and said: “Yosef Yitzchak, listen. All of the positive qualities associated with meditating before prayer that I enumerated — both for a Rebbe and for a chassid — are nothing in comparison to the wondrous ability G‑d gives us to desire to do another Jew a favor.... It is worth toiling five hours a day for five days, and straining one’s body and soul to comprehend G‑dliness, if that will lead one to want to do a fellow Jew a favor.”

Now, we are all willing — and indeed, happy — to do favors from time to time. The Rebbe Rashab was speaking about a willingness to extend oneself for another person beyond one’s natural tendencies. That is difficult to comprehend. After all, one person generally becomes involved with another because they share interests, feelings, or opinions. But none of these things will lead him to identify with the other as deeply as with himself. Ultimately, every individual is concerned, fundamentally, with himself — not necessarily because of selfishness, but because it is part of the human condition. Indeed, there are even commentators who maintain that the commandment to2 “love your neighbor as yourself” is not to be understood literally.

Chassidus, however, explains that we can care about our friends as deeply, if not more, than we care about ourselves.3 For a spiritual dimension exists within us that is broader and more encompassing than our individual existence. Our true identity is not the “I” of our selves, but the “I” of our G‑dly souls — the spark of Divinity within us. That “I” encompasses us and other Jews jointly and equally. When it is revealed — and its revelation is within the potential of each one of us — we are able to rise above our personal identities and relate to our fellows as full brothers.