The Secret of the Good Point: The End of the Matter

I would like to start from the end.

But just before the end, a few words: We are good. Really good. I don't mean "successful" – success is the measure usually used – but rather our inner essence, the one beyond all confusion. We are good people. Good to a degree we cannot imagine.

The world we live in hides this goodness. The true good has been forgotten, and now we sometimes identify with the good, but most of the time with the not-good. We think that evil is completely real and that there's nothing we can do about it.

About two hundred years ago, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov said that even within what you consider absolute evil – goodness is hidden, and if you delve into this goodness, you'll find more and more good.

And not only do you have plenty of goodness, but so do your neighbor, your friend, your wife, your child, and the falafel-vendor-who-never-gives-change-and-wants-to-give-you-Bazooka-gum-instead. They also have plenty of goodness. And even the annoying driver who took your parking spot on the way to an important meeting while throwing a cigarette butt out the window has plenty of goodness. Perhaps deeply hidden, but lots and lots of goodness. And not only that, Rabbi Nachman reveals to us, but if we pay attention to this goodness, nurture it and don't ignore it – something big will happen.

And about this big something, I wanted to write a book. I called it "The Secret of the Good Point" – because although Rabbi Nachman already revealed this secret, and called it "Azamra" (Torah 282 in Likutei Moharan), it's still a secret. Because they say a secret is like the taste of something. If you haven't tasted it, you won't understand what it's about.

So, even though Rabbi Nachman told us about the secret of the good point, we need to invite this secret into our lives, live it, search for it, and work to make it part of our lives.

During the writing process, I discovered that this endeavor is interesting and complex, and that I myself would need a long time to internalize the things I wrote (inspired by Rabbi Nachman). I was glad that these things would be written, and I knew that at least one person would benefit from this story. Me.

Wait – I suppose you want to know, as the title of this piece suggests, what was the end of the matter? What did I mean when I said I would start from the end? But before that, just to give you a bit more background, I'll tell you how it all began:

I started writing the book during a period of great tension between different groups in Israel – mainly between extreme secular and ultra-Orthodox groups. Exposure to the media left the impression that the positions of all sides had been dangerously and worryingly radicalized.

At a Shabbat meal with friends, we spoke about Rabbi Nachman's teaching of "Azamra," about the secret of the good point, and how everyone can see good in themselves and in others. During the conversation, I remembered a story that appeared in one of the books, about a student of Rabbi Nathan, one of Rabbi Nachman's distinguished disciples. That student sat and listened to Rabbi Nathan teaching the secret of the good point, and repeated with his lips the words that Rabbi Nathan spoke. Rabbi Nathan looked at him and said: "You think you already understand 'Azamra'? If we truly understood 'Azamra' and practiced 'Azamra,' the whole world would repent. For in 'Azamra' Rabbi Nachman says that if you see the good in others, you take them out of a place of guilt and raise them to a place of merit, and they can return in repentance."

What does the term "return in repentance" mean? Beyond the simple meaning – returning from sins and mistakes that a person makes, adhering to absolute good and the possibility to start anew – from a psychological and emotional perspective, the meaning of the term is that a person has choice.

As long as a person feels that they are bad and disconnected from themselves – they have no choice. They continue to act automatically, as they did in the past, and they must justify this behavior.

Rabbi Nachman did not direct this message to religious or secular people. He spoke to every person who wanted to improve their life, make it good and happy, and connect to true goodness. Whether you define yourself as religious or secular, the ability to see the good in yourself and the good in others – whether it's your wife or your children, your colleagues at work or people from a different sector, whose lifestyle and beliefs are completely different from yours – this ability can completely change your life.

Rabbi Nachman also teaches that if you can see the good in yourself, you'll succeed in seeing the good in others. And if you can see that even in someone who seems bad to you, there is good – this will help you accept yourself and find the good within you.

Following the conversation about 'Azamra,' I thought about the wars between different sectors in Israel, in the media and in the streets alike, about the hatred, anger, pain – and then it hit me.

Could it be that something can be done? That I myself could do it?

What impact could a book have that brings the special light of 'Azamra,' of the good point, in a way that would allow anyone to read it? Not just "die-hard Breslov Hasidim," but any person who wishes to improve their life and add goodness to it?

To be honest, I don't know. I can only say this: at that moment I decided to do my best.

Certainly, it's not up to me to decide where such a book will end up and who it will influence, and yet, I can focus on my effort. The effort to serve the good and add goodness to my world and the world of those around me.

And that's how it all began. And now, fast forward to the end of the story, almost.

Eventually, I almost finished writing the book. A few final polishes, and forward, to the printing press. That's what I thought, anyway.

At this stage, I sent the manuscript to a few friends for feedback before moving on to creating illustrations, editing, layout, cover, and everything involved. Some friends sent encouraging emails with good wishes and asked to be notified when the book hits the shelves, others sent positive reviews. And then I received a phone call from a close friend.

It turns out he had read the book the night before. Not all of it. Just the first 44 pages.

"The book is terrifying." His serious voice sounded from the other end of the phone line.

"Terrifying, huh?" I was sure he was joking.

"Really. Really bad."

At that moment, I realized this was no joke.

I took a deep breath. "Oh. Really? Why?" He started explaining what he thought was wrong. The examples, the language. And then he dropped the bomb.

"I don't find you at all in the book. As if you're not there. As if you wrote it while texting friends at the same time. Where is your heart?!" I felt the blood draining from my body. I took a deep breath, and again. I understood that he was right. I understood that the book might indeed be wonderful, on an intellectual, conceptual level, but where am I in this story (or book)? I realized that at some point along the way – something was lost.

Panic crept up my back as I thought about how to explain to the publisher that I needed to pause, improve positions, and invest more in writing. And who knows if I'd even be able to improve this manuscript?

Where did I find the strength to listen to him?

When he said the next sentence, I understood.

"To tell you the truth," he said, "it's just really not like you. I know you, brother. You can do much better. I would expect something completely different from you. I know you can, just get into it. Don't publish the book yet."

Suddenly I remembered another book I wrote that was published a few years ago. Then too, I thought the book was already in good shape, until a friend came and said "that's not it," and I didn't understand what he was talking about! I tried to fight and explain that I had written a good, engaging, suspenseful book (it was a novel). My friend also thought the book was suspenseful and interesting. "If you want to enter the bookshelf of every home in Israel, you might succeed," he told me then, "but if you want to enter people's hearts and not just their shelves, you have a lot more work to do." And he was right too.

I once heard that the meaning of 'Azamra' is not just about seeing a drop of good in others. If a friend comes to you in dirty clothes, the meaning of 'Azamra' is not necessarily to say: "Wow! You have a small white area on your shirt, near the shoulder, that's not dirty at all! Good for you!" 'Azamra' means telling your beloved friend: "Brother, your clothes are completely dirty and it really doesn't suit you."

And so, precisely in his statement, "it's really not like you," I saw that my friend sees the true good in me.

'Azamra' means understanding that maybe I fell into forgetfulness, mistake, disconnection, and distance – but that's not who I am. And that's what I actually want to talk about in this book. It turns out I had to write the entire book to understand that I hadn't even begun. And then start from the beginning.

Well, I'm starting from the beginning. And if this book has reached your hands – I probably managed to reach the end of the journey.

If you can see the good in yourself, you'll succeed in seeing the good in others. And if you can see that even in someone who seems bad to you, there is good – this will help you accept yourself and find the good within you.

From the book "The Secret of the Good Point", by Ran Weber, author, therapist, and workshop facilitator in the spirit of Hasidism. Contact: ranweber@gmail.com

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