sholem aleichem,

A few years ago, a right-wing Zionist rabbi told me that, in his understanding, the anti-zionists in his community were all “fundamentally messianic”. In our longing for olam haba (the world to come), he said, we ignored the reality of living in olam hazeh (this world).

It’s true that leftist Jews talk a lot about olam haba. Rare indeed is the leftist dvar Torah with no mention of “dreaming the world to come” or similar phrases. At its best, however, this kind of leftist Judaism isn’t ignoring the reality of olam hazeh. It is simply recognizing that if we never choose to make peace in this world, we will never merit life in the world that is entirely peace.

At the same time, I do wonder if we think about olam haba a little too much. I have noticed a growing despair and cynicism about olam hazeh in myself and some people I talk to. And this is understandable! Rebbe Nachman once taught that while everyone believes in olam haba, belief in olam hazeh is much harder:

It’s possible that there is such a thing as olam hazeh in some universe, but in this universe, [olam hazeh] appears to be gehinnom (hell)

Likutei Moharan Tinyana 119

In his fifth torah, Rebbe Nachman teaches that a person doing mitzvos in olam hazeh, for the sake of olam haba, is looking at olam hazeh through a muddy window. They perceive olam hazeh as if from a great distance, because they are looking at it from the perspective of olam haba, which is (rachmana litslan!) far away. He explains that only through doing mitzvos for their own sake, without thinking of olam haba, can we perceive this world up close, as if through a clear window.

This image of clear and muddy windows comes from chazal (see Heschel, Heavenly Torah 23), who explain that these correspond to two kinds of prophecy. One kind, that of almost all the prophets, was given with the word coh: “thus [spoke Hashem]”. But the highest kind of prophecy, reserved only for Moshe Rabbeinu, was given with the language zeh hadavar: “this is the thing”.

The language of “thus” points outward, looks to distant things, and is like watching the world through a muddy window. In contrast, the language of “this is the thing” points to the here and now, to the up close, and is like looking at the world through a clear window.

For Rebbe Nachman, our repair of the world needs to be an aspect (l’havdil) of Moshe Rabbeinu’s prophecy. It does not begin by looking at the world from the perspective of a distant olam haba. It begins with presence in olam hazeh. He teaches that only by doing mitzvos with joy simply in doing them, with no thought of olam haba, will we be able perceive this world clearly. As a result, only then can we perceive how “to repair the world, to fill the lack of the world, and to pray on its behalf”.

The more caught up we are in thoughts of olam haba, the more we do things for the sake of olam haba, the more olam hazeh starts to look like gehinnom, the more we see this world through the muddy window of despair.

As Rav Kluger teaches in Yichud ha-Hisbodedus:

The present does not serve the past and the future — to serve as a crossing from this to this — rather, the past and the future serve the present.

(from the maamar “Present. Not past and not future”)

When we think of olam hazeh as a way of building olam haba, we make the present into a servant of the future. Caught up in this view, we do mitzvos in olam hazeh while thinking only of olam haba. And so we perceive olam hazeh through the muddy window of despair, from far away.

Rav Kluger teaches us to invert this view. The future should serve the present, not the present serve the future. Of course, we need to think about what the future might be. We need to consider the consequences of our actions. But only in a manner where we remain close to olam hazeh, where olam haba is a tool to help us build olam hazeh and not the other way around. Only in this world can we serve Hashem in joy, doing good for its own sake.

This same dynamic plays out on the level of the individual human, each of whom is an entire world in our tradition, a microcosm of the universe. Because here also we find aspects of olam haba, olam hazeh, and gehinnom.

Olam hazeh for the individual human is the present-moment actual self, exactly as it is.

Gehinnom is perhaps what ICBT calls the “feared possible self”, a core fear we don’t usually consciously realize we have, but (through ICBT) we might learn to reveal in language like “maybe I am harmful”, “maybe I am selfish”, “maybe I could be intrinsically evil”.

As contrast to the feared possible self, I’d suggest that olam haba in this context is the “dreamed possible self”: the tzaddik I want so desperately to be, the whole and perfected self I strive to become.

When we think of the present self as a way of building the dreamed possible self, we treat the present as a servant of the future. Caught up in this view, we do teshuvah from afar, from the perspective of the dreamed possible self. Looking at our present self from this distance, through this muddy window, the present self begins to look like the possible self we fear.

Is it any wonder that engaging with teshuvah in this way can lead to despair and inaction?

Rav Kluger and Rebbe Nachman might teach us another way, if we apply their teachings to this context. The present self should not serve the dreamed self; it is the dream that must serve the present. We of course need to consider the people we want to become. But real, healthy teshuvah needs to begin in the present self. Only by joyfully doing teshuvah as our present selves, for its own sake and not for the sake of the dreamed possible self, will we be able to clearly see who we are, how to fill what we lack, and how to pray on our own behalf.

So this year, when I fall into despair and inaction, when I start looking at world and my self from distant dreamed futures, I plan to say two things.

First, to myself:

darling, creating that future is overwhelming. it makes sense that you would feel despair! but that’s not your job. all you need to do right now is to live in this world, as yourself: doing the work that needs doing right now, just for the sake of doing it.

And then, to Hashem:

Creator and Life of all the worlds, may it be known and revealed before You that my truest desire is to live in this world, to serve its needs and pray on its behalf. When despair arises, when doing the right thing feels impossibly hard, when I look like a monster to myself and this world looks like hell, help me recognize that I have lost touch with this true desire, and help me return to You, to Your world, and to my self. Compassionate One, You who remember the kindnesses of our ancestors, please grant me joy in Your service for its own sake, in the merit of Your servant Moshe, to whom You granted the prophecy of “this is the thing”.

G’mar chasima tova,

ada

p.s. I’m not an expert in ICBT, my comments are based on my experience of the treatment.

p.p.s. Translating the phrase as “muddy window” comes from a comment R Yaakov Klein made in a shiur. The image stuck with me, though it isn’t the most direct translation of the phrase in question (“a window that has no light”).

p.p.p.s. I write a lot in the language of “we”, a holdover from my past in academic math. If this dvar doesn’t resonate, don’t worry about it!