Why a Great Soul Feels Unfulfilled

Opening Picture a young married man. He sits and studies Torah. He keeps the commandments. His days are busy with good things. And still, a heavy feeling comes over him. Emptiness. Something missing. A thirst that will not settle down. Deep in his heart he asks himself: Why am I not happy with my lot? Everyone talks about joy. About setting the self aside. About being content. And me? I just can’t be content. Then the evil inclination comes along, the inner voice that pulls us toward wrong. Or maybe a friend does. He whispers: You are arrogant. Something is wrong with you. You need to work on yourself. But maybe, just maybe, it is exactly the opposite. Here is a verse you have heard since you were small. The Book of Psalms says: “My soul thirsts for You; my body longs for You.” The thirst describes the soul itself, its very essence. It is not the soul’s flaw. It is the soul’s testimony. The Parable Let me give you a parable. Imagine a huge airplane with many engines, built to fly at great heights. Now someone brings it into the narrow streets of a city. There it stands. It doesn’t move. It doesn’t rise. Its wings touch something on every side. And someone asks: What’s the problem? This is an excellent vehicle! Why aren’t you going anywhere? Only a fool would say the problem is the airplane. A wise person knows the airplane is not lacking anything. It needs sky. The Lesson It is the same with great souls. Hashem has equipped some souls with enormous powers: a broad mind, deep feelings, a great drive to act. When souls like these look for fulfillment in small, limited things, they are bound to feel frustrated and squeezed in. This is not because they are damaged. It is because they are great. Our Sages put it this way: “Everything is according to the amount of the deed.” Someone gifted with great ability carries a great obligation. Think of the Temple offering whose size depended on what a person could afford. A rich man who brought the poor man’s offering did not fulfill his duty. In the same way, a soul rich in powers cannot settle for a “poor man’s offering” in serving Hashem. This is not a moral failing. It is a spiritual reality. A Note: Heavy Sadness or Bitterness? Here we need to draw a fine line. Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, author of the Tanya, the classic book of Hasidic thought, separates two feelings. One is heavy sadness, which is wrong and harmful. The other is bitterness, which is healthy and needed. Heavy sadness says: I am bad. I am a failure. There is no hope for me. Bitterness says: I can do more. I was meant for more. The soul knows what it was made for, and it refuses to accept a substitute. About Jacob our forefather, the Torah says: “He refused to be comforted.” When the soul knows that something real is missing, it will not settle for partial comfort or small substitutes. This refusal is not stubbornness. It is inner honesty. It is the soul’s truth. So the thirst is not a sign of failure. It is a call. It is the soul itself calling out: Not here. Not here. Higher. Closing A great Hasidic master wrote in Hayom Yom, a book of daily teachings: A person must know that he was sent into the world with certain powers and a certain mission. The powers and the mission are made to fit each other. The thirst is the compass. Don’t try to crush this feeling. Don’t talk yourself into settling for what your soul refuses. Listen. The inner thirst is not your enemy. It is your guide. The airplane will not be locked into the streets. It needs sky. And you, your soul, needs its own open space: breadth in Torah study, depth in prayer, a mission that fills all your powers. Live by the saying: “From the very start, aim over the top.” Real joy will not come before the great action. It will be born from within it.