Rabbi Dovid Tzvi Chein (1846–1926), known as the Radatz, was a legendary Lubavitcher chassid, renowned for his scholarship and piety. Every year he’d walk to the town of Lubavitch, where the Lubavitcher rebbes resided and held court for more than a century, to be with the Rebbe for the holiday of Shavuot.

As he aged, the long trek from Chernigov, where he served as the city’s chief rabbi, to Lubavitch became increasingly difficult, forcing him to make his trip to Lubavitch a biennial event.

His children suggested that they hire a horse and buggy to take him to Lubavitch, which would allow him to continue his annual tradition.

The elderly chassid refused the offer.

“When I will arrive to the upper worlds after the age of one hundred and twenty,” he explained, referring to the time of his demise, “I do not want to waste my time on discussions and debates with the horses.

“If they assist me in my travel to Lubavitch, they will demand part of my reward for going there.

“In truth, I can defeat the horses in debate. But, in a world of divine splendor, why should I waste my time debating horses?”

And the moral of the story:

We, too, have a “horse,” the animal within, to contend with. This internal animal is driven by selfish impulses, and resists acts of selflessness and G‑dliness.

When faced with an opportunity to do a good deed, such as demonstrating love for a fellow or giving charity, there is no place for negotiations and debates with a horse regarding the fulfillment of a divine precept.

It is a waste of time.1