Your Son Knows His Yeshivah Schedule; Does He Know Why?

By Rabbi Shimon Chyrek

As thousands of Bochurim return to Yeshivah after Tishrei, they already know what their days will look like. There will be Chassidus in the morning, davening, hours of Gemara with a Chavrusa, and time devoted to practical Dinim. The schedule is familiar, and most Bochurim have learned to move from one seder to the next without giving its structure much thought.

Yet there is a question that deserves more attention than it usually receives: Why did the Rebbe Rashab establish this particular combination of learning and Avodah?

If Chassidus is meant to change a person, why devote so many hours to the back-and-forth of Gemara? If a Maamar contains the Ohr needed for that change, why isn’t learning and understanding the Maamar sufficient? What does Tefillah accomplish that learning alone cannot? And why, after all of this, is there still a need for a separate seder in practical Dinim?

There is also the question of Hanhala. If the Rebbe Rashab already established the seder, why did he give the Hanhala responsibility for making decisions about individual Bochurim? Why not simply provide everyone with the same program and expect them to follow it?

I believe these questions are connected. The different parts of a Yeshivah day are not competing demands on a Bochur’s time. They can be understood as parts of a carefully constructed process, each contributing something that the others cannot accomplish on their own.

I first began thinking about this when I was seventeen, learning in Yeshivah Gedolah in Melbourne. My Mashpia, Rabbi Winner, instructed me to learn Kuntres Eitz Chaim from the Rebbe Rashab. At the time, I was particularly interested in becoming competent in Halacha. I wasn’t planning to become a practicing Rov; I wanted to know what Hashem wanted from me, and I saw knowledge of Halacha as a way of becoming closer to Him.

Learning Kuntres Eitz Chaim opened my eyes to a broader purpose. I began to appreciate that the years a Bochur spends in Yeshivah are intended not only to develop what he knows, but also to transform the person who possesses that knowledge.

The Middos We Were Given

In Kuntres Eitz Chaim, the Rebbe Rashab places Tikkun HaMiddos at the heart of the purpose for which a neshama descends into this world. This gives an entirely different significance to the personal struggles of a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old Bochur. His difficult Middos are not merely unfortunate tendencies that interfere with his learning or his relationships. Working on them may be central to the very purpose for which his neshama came into the world.

We tend to think of Tikkun HaMiddos as identifying a bad characteristic and trying to eliminate it. Someone who becomes angry must stop being angry. Someone drawn toward pleasure must learn to restrain himself. A Bochur who spends too much time joking and talking must become serious, while someone inclined toward laziness must push himself to be more active.

Certainly, a person must control inappropriate behavior. But there is another dimension to the work, which becomes clearer when we consider the Alter Rebbe’s explanation at the end of Chapter 1 of Tanya.

The Alter Rebbe describes four basic elements from which the negative Middos of the nefesh habahamis emerge. Fire is associated with anger and superiority; water with the pursuit of pleasure; air with wildness, mockery, showing off and empty talk; and earth with laziness, depression and heaviness.

At first glance, this might sound like a list of things we need to overcome. But I would suggest that we can also look at these four elements as powers that need to be redirected rather than simply discarded.

The essential ingredient that changes their direction is Bittul.

Consider fire. A person with a fiery temperament may be quick to anger, but that same intensity, when permeated with Bittul, can become passion for something worthwhile. The capacity for pleasure associated with water can become genuine enjoyment in doing good. The expressiveness of air, which might otherwise emerge as foolishness or excessive talking, can become fluency in Torah and wisdom. Even earth, with its tendency toward heaviness, can express itself as humility toward others and the ability to nurture their growth, just as the earth quietly provides the conditions in which things grow.

This is an important distinction. A Bochur with a fiery personality need not assume that his task is to become a person without fire. He needs to discover what Hashem intended him to accomplish with that fire.

Instead of viewing his personality as an assortment of problems to eliminate, he can begin seeing the powers within himself as material entrusted to him for a purpose. Tikkun HaMiddos then becomes the work of bringing those powers into the service of something higher than himself.

Of course, understanding this intellectually is not the same as accomplishing it. Knowing that anger could become positive passion does not automatically make someone less angry. The question is how Bittul actually enters a Middah and changes the way it expresses itself.

This is where the Maamarim of the Rebbe Rashab become so important.

What the Maamar Is Meant to Accomplish

When a Bochur learns a Maamar, he is doing more than acquiring information about Elokus. The Maamar brings Ohr, and that Ohr can bring the Bittul needed to redirect his Middos.

We speak frequently about Ohr in Chassidus, but it is worth considering what this means in a Bochur’s actual experience. He may understand a Maamar very well, remember its explanations and even be able to repeat them clearly to his Chavrusa. Yet the understanding alone does not necessarily mean that the Ohr has affected him.

One indication of that effect is the growing awareness that there is something higher than himself, a reality beyond his own wishes, opinions and immediate concerns. Bittul does not mean that he considers himself worthless or loses his individuality. Rather, he begins to sense that he is not the center of everything.

That awareness can change the direction of his natural powers. His fire remains fire, but it can now be directed toward something greater than his own ego. His enjoyment, expressiveness and groundedness can likewise become instruments of Avodas Hashem.

The Maamar therefore provides something essential to Tikkun HaMiddos. But anyone who has spent time in Yeshivah knows that a Bochur can learn an inspiring Maamar early in the morning and still lose his temper a few hours later. There can be a considerable distance between understanding a concept in Chassidus and having it influence an actual reaction.

How is that distance bridged?

Bringing the Ohr Into Tefillah

The Hayom Yom of 20 Tammuz describes three stages of Hisbonenus. During learning, the intellectual concept becomes illuminated. Before davening, the person begins to feel the vitality of what he learned. During davening itself, he comes to sense the Elokus within the concept.

These stages help explain why Tefillah occupies such an important place alongside learning Chassidus. The objective is not merely to remember an idea while davening, but to bring what was understood intellectually into a more personal and internal experience.

I would like to suggest a practical way a Bochur might approach this work, with the guidance of his Mashpia or Hanhala.

Rather than trying to change his entire personality at once, he could choose one Middah and concentrate on it for seven days. Suppose he chooses Gevurah. He would begin by examining how that quality currently expresses itself in his life. Perhaps his strength sometimes appears as anger, harshness or superiority. He would then consider what that same Gevurah could become if it were permeated with Bittul.

An important part of this exercise is to give the rectified Middah some expression in actual behavior, even before the more concentrated Avodah of davening. This need not be a dramatic undertaking. It could be one small action that reflects the positive direction he wants the Middah to take.

For example, Gevurah is associated with Yitzchak, יצחק, whose name means laughter. A Bochur might decide to tell a good joke at an appropriate time, specifically to bring another person joy. The point is not that telling a joke automatically constitutes Tikkun HaMiddos. It is that he has begun consciously considering how a power within himself can be used for someone else’s benefit rather than merely to satisfy himself.

He would also look for the Gevurah of Hashem within the Maamar he is learning and choose an appropriate line in davening through which to bring that concept into his Avodah. Depending on the subject, this might be a line such as לך ה׳ הגבורה or ה׳ מלך.

Here there is a particularly important detail. The Mitteler Rebbe explains in Ner Mitzvah V’Torah Ohr the importance of concentrating a concept into its essential נקודה. Immediately before saying the chosen line in davening, the Bochur would briefly bring to mind a concentrated summary of the essential point of the Maamar.

This is not an attempt to repeat the entire Maamar or engage in another lengthy meditation. It is a few moments in which he brings the central idea clearly before himself, and then says the words of davening with that understanding.

The Mitteler Rebbe discusses this process in Ner Mitzvah V’Torah Ohr, explaining that after a person has thoroughly learned and become familiar with the details of a concept, he can condense its lengthy explanation into a brief expression of its essential point. He even describes an entire expanded Hisbonenus becoming concentrated into a few words, such as “מלכותך מלכות כל עולמים.”¹

This also helps explain something very practical about the Yeshivah seder. A Bochur is expected to daven at the pace of the Minyan, and he may wonder how that leaves room for meaningful Hisbonenus. But if the detailed learning and preparation have already taken place, the actual moment of concentration during davening need not be lengthy. He can bring the essential נקודה to mind immediately before one carefully chosen line and then continue davening with the Minyan.

There is no need to stop at every line or attempt to reconstruct an entire Maamar during Shemoneh Esrei or the rest of davening. The Avodah is concentrated at a particular point, while the preparation that gives those few moments their meaning has taken place beforehand. In this way, the Bochur can work on internalizing what he learned without turning his personal Avodah into a reason to fall behind the Minyan.

In this way, the Ohr encountered through learning Chassidus is brought into Tefillah, where the Elokus within the concept can be sensed and internalized. What began as intellectual understanding is given an opportunity to affect the person more deeply.

There is another aspect to this exercise. A Middah does not express itself in only one form, and it is therefore useful to examine it from several directions. Over seven days, the Bochur can focus on seven practical expressions of the same Middah, corresponding to the seven Middos.

On the first day, he considers Chesed, the kindness within that Middah. How can his Gevurah help another person? On the second day, he considers Gevurah itself, learning to focus and direct his strength rather than allowing it to scatter. The third day concerns Tiferes, the balance required to express that strength in the right amount, at the right time and in the right way.

On the fourth day, Netzach can be considered in terms of positive energy, enjoyment and the determination to continue. It is not enough to act enthusiastically once; can he maintain the effort? The fifth day, Hod, involves recognizing truth beyond himself, including the ability to express genuine gratitude. The sixth day, Yesod, concerns emotional intelligence and the ability to integrate his Middah properly into relationships, taking account of how his behavior affects others.

Finally, the seventh day concerns Malchus, leadership over himself. Can he reach a point where his thinking guides his speech, and where his thinking and speech guide his actions?

Throughout the week he is working with the same basic Middah, but directing the Ohr into different aspects of its practical expression. The small action gives the rectified Middah a beginning in actual life, while the concentrated נקודה before the appropriate line in davening helps connect what he learned in the Maamar to his personal Avodah.

This is a demanding process, but it also raises a further issue. Even if a Bochur is sincerely trying to direct his Middos toward good, how does he learn to recognize the appropriate expression of a Middah in a particular situation?

There are times when Gevurah requires firmness and times when firmness becomes unnecessary harshness. A joke can bring another person joy, but it can also become ליצנות. Strength can be admirable in one situation and stubbornness in another. The correct response depends on circumstances, relationships, timing and proportion.

Bittul gives a Middah a higher direction. It does not, by itself, eliminate the need for careful judgment.

This brings us to the place of Gemara in the Yeshivah seder.

What Gemara Contributes to Tikkun HaMiddos

It might initially seem that the many hours a Bochur spends learning Gemara are separate from the inner work he is trying to accomplish through Chassidus and Tefillah. I believe there are at least two ways in which Gemara contributes directly to that work.

The first is the development of nuanced thinking.

Anyone who has learned a sugya seriously with a Chavrusa knows how difficult it can be to make a general statement without being challenged. Two cases may appear identical, but the Gemara distinguishes between them. A proposed explanation seems reasonable until a question reveals an overlooked assumption. The hava amina leads in one direction, while the maskana requires a more precise understanding.

A good Chavrusa will not allow his partner to dismiss an important distinction by saying that two cases are “basically the same.” He wants to know exactly what is different, why that difference matters, and under which conditions a particular principle applies.

Over time, this kind of learning develops a habit of mind. The Bochur learns not to flatten differences, but to notice and understand them.

That ability is valuable far beyond the sugya. The same care required to distinguish between two similar cases in Gemara can help a Bochur distinguish between two similar-looking expressions of a Middah. He becomes better equipped to consider when a particular response is appropriate, how much of it is needed and what other considerations must be taken into account.

Someone working on Gevurah, for instance, needs to recognize when strength should be tempered by Chesed, when standing firm is necessary and when it is merely an expression of his own stubbornness. These questions require more than good intentions. They require the ability to think carefully.

The second contribution of Gemara is what I would call absorption.

There is a difference between understanding a Din and absorbing it. A Bochur can learn a Halacha in Rambam or Kitzur Shulchan Aruch, understand every word and still experience the conclusion as information that has been given to him from the outside.

But suppose he first learns some of the Gemara underlying that subject. He encounters the original question, considers the hava amina, struggles with the reasoning and hears his Chavrusa challenge his explanation. He sees why one possibility is rejected and how the conclusion emerges.

When he subsequently learns the practical Din, he approaches it differently. He has already traveled part of the intellectual road leading to that conclusion. The Din has a context in his mind, and he is better prepared to absorb it.

These two contributions are closely related but distinct. Gemara develops the nuanced thinking needed to apply a Middah correctly, and it also prepares the Bochur to internalize the practical Dinim he learns.

Neither contribution diminishes the independent importance of learning Gemara as Torah. Rather, they help us appreciate how the intellectual discipline of Nigleh can also contribute to the broader development of a Tomim.

Why Dinim Need Their Own Place

If a Bochur is learning Chassidus, working on his Middos through Tefillah and developing his understanding through Gemara, one might still wonder why practical Dinim require their own dedicated seder.

Here too, I believe there are two important functions.

First, a person’s conduct can create blockages that interfere with the ability of the special Ohr contained in the Maamarim to enter and affect him properly. Living according to Dinim helps remove those blockages. A person cannot expect his inner Avodah to develop independently of the way he actually conducts his life.

But Dinim also serve another purpose. In Likkutei Torah, in the discussion of Nisuch HaMayim, the Alter Rebbe describes how a person can return after davening to his previous state.² This helps us appreciate why the Ohr experienced during Tefillah needs to find lasting expression in the person’s practical life.

This is particularly relevant to the relationship between inspiration and practical conduct. A Bochur may have a meaningful experience during Chassidus or davening, yet discover that the feeling fades as he returns to ordinary activities. Without something concrete in which that experience can be expressed and maintained, its effect may not endure.

A Din gives the Ohr a practical place in his life. It may require a particular action, establish a boundary, govern a decision or determine how he behaves toward another person. What was experienced inwardly becomes connected to something he actually does or refrains from doing.

In this sense, Dinim do more than regulate conduct. They provide a keli through which the Ohr can remain connected to everyday life.

We can now appreciate how the different parts of the seder complement one another. The Maamar brings Ohr, which brings Bittul into the Middah. A small practical action begins expressing the rectified Middah. Tefillah provides the setting in which the Elokus of what was learned can be sensed and internalized, and the seven-day exercise helps direct that Ohr into different expressions of the Middah.

Gemara develops the nuanced thinking needed to apply the Middah appropriately and prepares the mind to absorb Dinim. The Dinim, in turn, remove blockages to the Ohr and provide a practical keli in which it can remain.

Seen this way, Chassidus, Tefillah, Gemara and Dinim are not simply four subjects competing for time. Each performs a function that contributes to the same larger purpose.

There remains, however, an essential consideration. No two Bochurim are exactly alike.

Why the Rebbe Rashab Gave Hanhala a Role

A printed schedule can tell every Bochur when to learn Chassidus, Gemara and Dinim. What it cannot determine by itself is the particular Avodah needed by the individual Bochur.

One Bochur may be struggling with the fire of anger, while another may need to address the heaviness associated with earth. A particular Maamar may speak directly to one Bochur’s present Avodah, while another needs a different emphasis. Similarly, one Bochur may benefit from concentrating on particular Dinim that have special relevance to his circumstances.

This is one way to appreciate the importance of the authority the Rebbe Rashab gave Hanhala. The seder establishes the framework, while Hanhala has the responsibility to guide individual Bochurim within that framework.

This does not mean that every Bochur should independently diagnose his spiritual needs and alter the seder accordingly. Quite the opposite. Recognizing the purpose of the seder should encourage him to have more meaningful conversations with those responsible for his Chinuch.

Suppose the Yeshivah’s seder calls for learning רנ״ט or ס״א, but a Bochur believes that learning ס״ו would be particularly helpful for the Middah on which he is presently working.

He should not simply decide that the prescribed Maamar is unsuitable for him. Nor must he necessarily assume that there is no room even to discuss his situation. He can approach Hanhala, explain the Avodah he is trying to accomplish and describe why he believes the other Maamar might help bring the Ohr he needs.

He can then ask whether such an adjustment would be appropriate.

The distinction is important. He is not claiming authority to replace the seder established for him. He is asking the people entrusted with his Chinuch to help him apply its purpose to his individual circumstances.

The same approach could apply to Dinim. A Bochur might want to undertake a program of learning three chapters of Kitzur Shulchan Aruch each week, with the aim of working through the sefer over approximately a year. Rather than simply adding the program to his schedule, he could bring the proposal to Hanhala and explain what he hopes to accomplish.

He might explain that he wants the Gemara he learns to prepare him to absorb practical Dinim, and that he wants those Dinim to help remove blockages and anchor the Ohr he encounters through Chassidus and Tefillah.

Hanhala may agree that the program is suitable, suggest a different approach or decide that the existing seder is what he presently needs. In each case, the Bochur has involved Hanhala in the very process for which their guidance is needed.

This also changes the nature of the conversation.

There is a significant difference between a Bochur approaching Hanhala because he would prefer to do something else and a Bochur who has seriously considered the purpose of his learning and wants advice about how to accomplish it.

In the first case, Hanhala may reasonably wonder whether he is motivated by genuine growth or simply looking for something more convenient. In the second, he is able to explain the Middah he is working on, the role of the Maamar and Tefillah in that work, and how Gemara and Dinim contribute to his goal.

He can then present the particular adjustment he has in mind and ask for guidance.

Such a conversation is not a clever way of obtaining permission. Its value lies in the fact that the Bochur has begun taking responsibility for understanding the purpose of his Yeshivah years, while still recognizing that Hanhala has experience, perspective and responsibilities that he does not.

There may well be reasons why a requested change is not advisable, including considerations that the Bochur himself has not recognized. Accepting the authority of Hanhala means being prepared to hear that answer as well.

But when a Bochur understands the goals of Yeshivah, shares those goals and explains how his request might serve them, Hanhala has a stronger basis for evaluating his proposal. There is also a stronger foundation for trust and, where appropriate, individualized flexibility.

This is itself a valuable lesson for life: understand the purpose of the framework in which you are working, share that purpose with those responsible for guiding you, explain your thinking and be willing to learn from their response.

The Bochur brings his developing self-knowledge. Hanhala brings experience, perspective and responsibility. Together, they can work toward making the Rebbe Rashab’s seder effective for that particular neshama.

The Two Missions of a Neshama

There is a further dimension to all of this that I believe deserves attention. A person has to consider not only what his neshama came into this world to repair within himself, but also what it came here to contribute to others.

These are two different questions, and they often reveal themselves in very different ways.

The first concerns Tikkun HaMiddos. Interestingly, a person may recognize this mission precisely because it is difficult.

There may be a particular reaction he repeatedly struggles to control, a tendency that creates problems in his relationships or an aspect of his personality that continues to challenge him even after he thought he had dealt with it.

It is natural to feel discouraged by such recurring difficulties. Yet if Tikkun HaMiddos is central to the purpose of the neshama’s descent, perhaps those struggles should also be viewed as clues to the work that has been entrusted to him.

Instead of asking only why a particular Middah is so difficult, he can consider why this is the challenge his neshama repeatedly encounters.

The second mission often becomes apparent in almost the opposite way. Rather than examining what is difficult, a person can look at what comes naturally to him.

Perhaps he understands a particular subject easily, while others struggle with it. Perhaps he has an unusual ability to explain complicated ideas, organize people, solve practical problems or recognize what another person needs. He may not even consider these abilities exceptional, because to him they seem ordinary.

But other people notice. Someone asks him for help, and then someone else does. A talent he has always taken for granted becomes useful to a friend, a family, a community, a Yeshivah or another Yid.

Over time, he may begin to recognize that Hashem did not give him those abilities solely for his own benefit.

The first mission, the work of Tikkun HaMiddos, often requires him to confront what is most difficult within himself. The second, his contribution to others, may begin to reveal itself through the things he finds relatively easy and the people who naturally turn to him for help.

I find this distinction particularly meaningful when considering what Tomchei Temimim is meant to accomplish. The Rebbe Rashab was not merely establishing a place where young men would spend several years accumulating Torah knowledge. He established a Yeshivah intended to shape the whole person and prepare him for a lifetime of Avodas Hashem.

A Bochur needs to develop the Middos with which he was born, but he also needs to discover how the abilities Hashem gave him can eventually benefit others. His years in Yeshivah can prepare him for both missions.

What Can a Bochur Begin Doing Now?

All of this may sound like a great deal for a young Bochur to undertake, especially when he already has a full schedule. But there is no need to begin by changing everything. In fact, I would suggest starting with something quite modest, and discussing the approach with his Mashpia or Hanhala.

Choose one Middah that you recognize in yourself and consider how it presently expresses itself. Then ask what that same power could become if Bittul entered it. If the Middah is fire, for example, consider how its intensity might become positive passion rather than anger or superiority.

As you learn a Maamar, look for the Ohr that can bring that Bittul into your Middah. Try to become conscious of the reality of something higher than yourself. Find one small, appropriate action through which the rectified Middah can begin to express itself in daily life.

Choose a suitable line in davening, and immediately before saying it, briefly bring to mind the essential נקודה of what you learned. Then use the following seven days to consider how the Middah can express itself through Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferes, Netzach, Hod, Yesod and Malchus: kindness, focus, balance, positive energy and persistence, recognition of truth, emotional intelligence and self-leadership.

Meanwhile, continue learning Gemara seriously with your Chavrusa. Pay attention to the distinctions the Gemara makes, the questions that challenge your assumptions and the care required to reach an accurate conclusion. Recognize that this kind of learning is also developing abilities that can serve your personal Avodah.

When you learn Dinim, try to absorb them rather than merely remember them. Appreciate that practical Halacha both removes obstacles to the influence of Ohr and gives that Ohr a place to remain in everyday conduct.

Most importantly, do not turn this into an independent program that you have designed without guidance. Speak to Hanhala. Explain what you are trying to accomplish and ask for their advice. If you believe a particular Maamar, a program in Dinim or an appropriate adjustment to your learning would help, discuss it with them and seek permission.

They may agree with your suggestion, or they may see a better way forward. Either way, you will have begun approaching the Yeshivah seder with a greater understanding of what it is intended to accomplish.

Perhaps there is something here for parents as well.

When our sons return to Yeshivah after Tishrei, we naturally ask what they are learning, who their Chavrusa is, whether they are happy and how they are managing the daily routine. These are important questions, but I would suggest adding another one:

“What do you want Yeshivah to accomplish in you this year?”

It may lead to a conversation quite different from the usual discussion about learning and schedules. A Bochur might begin to think about the Middah he wants to work on, the kind of person he hopes to become, or an ability Hashem has given him that he could use to help others.

And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts we can give our sons during their Yeshivah years: encouraging them to recognize that the seder established by the Rebbe Rashab is not simply something they are expected to follow, but an opportunity to discover and develop the person they were sent into this world to become.

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Sources

¹ Ner Mitzvah V’Torah Ohr, p. 114b (קי”ד ע”ב): “אחר טוב ידיעתו ורגילותו תמיד בכל פרטיהם דוקא לעשות הקיצור מן האריכות”; and p. 116a (קט”ז ע”א): “עד שיבוא לו כל ההתבוננות שמרחיב בפרט בענין זה בקיצור מופלג כמו מלכותך מלכות כל עולמים”.

² Likkutei Torah, discussion of Nisuch HaMayim, 79c (דף ע”ט ע”ג): “כי האדם יכול להיות אחר התפלה חוזר כבראשונה… להעמיק עיון שכלו בעסק התורה והלכותיה”.