Knowing Your Mission

At this point, one is entitled to ask a very simple but crucial question. If the soul that we possess was here before because it did something wrong that it has to correct or that it did not realize its full potential, how do we know what it is that we have to do?

If we would have been told at some point in our lives that we are here for the second time (or third etc.) and this is what we did wrong, we would make sure that we wont have to come down again. But since most people, do not know anything about their soul’s past history, how is one to know what they are here for?

A related question can be raised. Why is it that we do not have the knowledge of who we are in terms of earlier incarnations? There are accounts of great masters of Kabbalah, such as the Ari, who were able to see a person’s complete soul-history. But, the overwhelming majority of people do not possess this ability. Isn’t it curious that such an important part of our past has been hidden from us?

Isn’t it strange that the information that will guide us in the right direction has been denied us?

In truth, there is an analogy in another aspect of our life’s experience that is withheld from us. Before we are born, we are taught the entire Torah. At the time of birth, the Talmud relates, an angel strikes and causes us to forget all that we have been taught.. The question has been raised. Why did we have to learn the entire Torah before we were born, only to forget it before we actually emerge into the world and need that information?

The answer is that since Torah is inherently above human intellect, it had to be instilled in us before we were born. Otherwise, we could never fathom its divine depth no matter how hard we try. However, the objective in life is to reach whatever heights and depths with our own effort. The teaching of Torah before we are born is to give us a boost, but, the actual study must come through our own efforts.

Similarly, the fact that we have been here before gives us a boost in our second or third incarnation. Some of the energies that were already generated in our first life remain with us throughout the various journeys of the soul.

Many of us are familiar with the citation in the Haggadah of Passover. There Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah states that “I am like seventy years old and I have not prevailed…” The Talmud gives the background to help us understand his statement that “I am like seventy..” Rabbi Elazar was appointed nasi, or leader of the Sanhedrin. However, he was only 18 years old and it would not have been becoming for him to lead the venerable sages of this institution. Miraculously, the Talmud records, he grew a white bread overnight and appeared as if he was seventy.

A difficulty arises. If he was only seventeen and only appeared to be seventy, why was he so surprised that he could not win an argument against the older sages? According to the Ari, the great Kabbalist, Rabbi Elazar was actually seventy years old, if we count the fifty-two years of his former incarnation of Samuel the prophet. Rabbi Elazar was truly endowed with the resources from his previous life.

What emerges from the above is that we benefit from the earlier life in perhaps a similar manner that we benefit from our pre-natal Torah course. But, as in the analogy, to give us freedom to choose and work on our own, the information is withheld from our conscious minds. We do not know who we were, but we benefit from who we were. If we would know, it could impair our own efforts.

For example, if we discovered that we were some evil individuals, we could become demoralized. If we were great saints, we could feel smug and confident in the knowledge of how much we already accomplished.

One of the aforementioned questions, however, still persists. If we don’t know who we were and for what purpose our soul has descended again into this world, how are we to succeed?

There are actually two approaches to this matter. At first glance these two approaches will appear to be opposites. The first approach is to look for the area of one’s observance that one finds most exhilarating. Very often, we discover an attraction – not G-d forbid, at the expense of other Mitzvot – to a particular Mitzvah. Whenever we do this mitzvah we fell uplifted and inspired. It might even energize other Mitzvot that we do.

There is a Talmudic precedent to this phenomenon. A certain rabbi was once asked about his father: “What was your father extra careful about?” he meant to ask what mitzvah his father displayed greater conscientiousness than others. The word he used for “careful” in Hebrew is “zahir,” which also carries an added meaning of “light” or “radiance.” Accordingly, his question can now be reinterpreted, as it is in Mystical literature, “What mitzvah did your father perform that introduced light into everything?”

It is a mitzvah that brings light into everything that one might conclude is the purpose for which one’s soul entered into this world.

There is, however, a seemingly opposite method that can be used in determining what one’s specific mission is. Or in other words, what did we not accomplish adequately in our earlier life? This method views any mitzvah or positive direction in life that we encounter the greatest difficulty, as the area of observance that is most important for our soul. As in the story of Adam and Eve, the fact that they could not resist the temptation of not eating one particular fruit (that would have been permitted to them if they would have waited a few hours, according to the Midrash), was an indication that this mitzvah – as insignificant as it may sound to others – was for them their most important mission in life.

The difficulties we encounter in doing Mitzvot are rarely commensurate with the actual degree of hardship. While it makes sense that a mitzvah that involves arduous physical labor, grueling emotional stress or that heavily taxes one’s finances, may be hard for a person to do, the hardships that we actually experience have nothing to do with the reality. There are some instances where the mitzvah is extremely simple and yet we find it hard to motivate ourselves to do it, and conversely, there are times that a mitzvah seems hard to do and there is very little resistance for an individual.

Whenever a specific deed is difficult to perform, it is a signal t us. Perhaps it is because this is precisely the area of life that our soul has descended into this world to accomplish. Perhaps, this area of observance was the one area that our soul failed in the last time around. The hardships we encounter or the exhilaration we experience while doing a mitzvah is often a signal to us that this is what we should concentrate on.

This also explains why in the mystical tradition, a spiritual mentor – such as a Chassidic Rebbe – always played a central role in the lives of the mystical initiates. While Judaism gives us a general direction in our lives, detailing the 248 positive commandments and the 365 negative ones, we are in need of a more specific guidepost for direction in our lives. And while any conscientious person, who is objective and a friend, can and should be consulted for direction, there is still a need for someone who knows our soul better than we do. The genuine Chassidic Rebbe could see who we are and who we were and what direction we should be following.

From the book Safe Kabbalah, Part Three: Journeys of the Soul by Rabbi Heschel Greenberg, published by the Jewish Discovery Center.