From Obligation to Connection: How to Transform Religious Duty into a Living Relationship with God

My name is Yaakov, I’m 30 years old and work as a teacher. I try to fulfill my duties — at work, at home, and in my observance of Torah and mitzvot, to the best of my ability. Outwardly, my life seems calm and orderly, yet deep inside, something troubles me greatly. I’m even embarrassed to admit it.

The truth is, I feel that everything I do in serving God is out of duty, not desire. If I were honest about what I want, I’d say: to go swimming, eat pizza, travel, or chat with friends. But I can’t use the word “want” for any mitzvah — not Shabbat, not kashrut, not blessings, nothing.

I’m not planning to abandon observance — I believe in God and His Torah, but I feel constant guilt. My mitzvah observance feels like a burden, something I just need to get through. I read about righteous people who loved God and rejoiced in doing His will, and it sounds completely unreal to me. How can anyone want something that feels so detached from everyday life?

I await your answer impatiently,
Yaakov

* * *

Dear Yaakov,

Many things we do in life are things we must do — either because the Torah commands them, because of family tradition, or because of simple necessity. Then there are things we do because we want to — because the heart desires, the eyes are drawn, or we find pleasure or meaning in them.

We all live between two inner “voices”: the body and the soul.

• The body wants the tangible pleasures of this world and only reluctantly “must” observe spiritual duties like mitzvot.

• The soul, by contrast, wants closeness to God, Torah, and mitzvot — but feels burdened by the material world.

Our great challenge is that the voice of the soul has become hidden. The world we live in is a world of the body — sensory, visible, and loud. From birth, we identify with it completely. We say, “I want,” but it is really the body speaking. Our true desires — those of the soul, are buried deep within, unknown even to us.

The Illusion of Desire

We are constantly being deceived by colors, sounds, sensations, advertisements, and ideals of pleasure. Society bombards us with promises of happiness through material gain: more beauty, more comfort, more enjoyment.

We spend our time, energy, and even our minds chasing these illusions. What occupies our thoughts? What keeps us awake at night? Always the material.

We are not cold or indifferent — but our hearts have been misled. Our true desires are replaced by empty substitutes, false wants, and fleeting distractions. The physical world numbs our senses, blinds our eyes, and dulls our awareness. Its greatest deception is forgetfulness — forgetting the most essential truth: God.

Even those who observe mitzvot and study Torah can easily lose touch with Him while performing His commandments.

The Deepest Pain of All: A Life Without God

When I drive on a highway, I sometimes look at the endless stream of cars rushing westward and imagine them as waves of human longing — thousands chasing something they cannot quite define.

Each person is missing something: one lacks money, another health, another love or meaning. We are all trying to fill an inner void. But above all lacks there exists a deeper, darker one — the lack of closeness to God.

This is the root of all spiritual suffering — “The pain of all pains.”
As Rabbi Nachman of Breslov wrote in Likutei Moharan: “As long as divine awareness does not shine within people, and they do not know or feel God’s presence, they are not truly human... and the world is as chaos and void.”

“In Your Mouth and in Your Heart” — The Path Back to Connection

Jow can we escape this emptiness? How do we remove the veil that hides God from us and begin to feel His presence again?

The Torah gives a simple, eternal answer: “It is in your mouth and in your heart — to do it.” (Devarim 30:14)

According to the Be’er Mayim Chaim, this means: through prayer (your mouth) and a softened heart (your inner feelings), a person can restore the proper balance to their soul.

Maimonides defines prayer as: “A commandment to pray daily... to serve God with your heart — that is prayer.” (Hilchot Tefillah 1:1–2)

Prayer, then, is not merely ritual. It is personal conversation with God — in your own words, from your heart. It is speaking to Him about everything that happens to you: asking for advice, confessing mistakes, giving thanks, singing, or simply sitting in silence.

Through such personal connection, the relationship becomes alive and real. God ceases to be an abstract idea in heaven, and He becomes a daily companion in every aspect of life. His presence illuminates our routine, giving new meaning and direction.

This divine light comforts and strengthens us, revives our sense of purpose, and teaches us what and how to desire once again.

Turning God into Someone Close

Our hearts are constantly searching for vitality. If we do not find it in closeness to God, our craving for life will be diverted into endless worldly pursuits.

But if we connect with God and delight in His nearness, the mitzvot cease to feel like duties — they become expressions of love and joy. We begin to sense that each commandment is a gift from a compassionate Father who loves us and desires our happiness.

Then, mitzvot are no longer “dry laws” but opportunities to deepen our bond with the One who created us.

So, in answer to your question — “How can a person want something that feels so disconnected from real life?” —
The answer is: by making God close, personal, and real.

How to Make Holiness “Close to You”

The way to bring this closeness into daily life is, again, “in your mouth and in your heart.” Set aside quiet time each day — or at least each week, to withdraw from distractions and speak to God in your own words.

The Chofetz Chaim advised: “Let a person set aside time regularly to be alone, to detach from the world’s noise, and to think about their spiritual path.” (Tnu’at HaMussar, vol. 3)

His student, Rabbi Yisrael Meir, added: “When one feels spiritually numb, he should speak to God simply, from the depths of the heart. Ask for mercy, confess confusion, and express longing. God awaits such words.” (The Life and Deeds of the Chofetz Chaim)

This is not about formal prayer like the Amidah, which can itself become mechanical, but about personal, honest dialogue — the kind that flows naturally, like a child speaking to a loving parent.

As Likutei Amarim teaches: “All suffering that does not leave us comes from our failure to cry out and pray about it. If only we poured out our hearts before God, none of our prayers would go unanswered.”

And Sefer Charedim concludes beautifully: “The simplest cure for the soul is seclusion with God — to lift one’s eyes to heaven and speak to the King of Kings with sincerity. As one turns his face to God, God turns His face to him.”

The remedy for spiritual numbness is not to abandon observance, but to revive it through heartfelt communication with God. By speaking to Him, yearning for closeness, and recognizing the soul’s true desires, we heal from the “disease of routine” and rediscover joy in serving the Creator.

May we all be blessed to draw closer to our Maker, to know Him with open hearts, to speak to Him in truth, and to feel once again that the greatest want of all — is simply God Himself.