12 Years Into Teshuvah—Facing New Challenges

I've been a baal teshuvah for 12 years. At the beginning of the teshuvah process, I truly felt elevated and close to Hashem. It seemed easy to fight my evil inclination, change habits, and invest in spiritual growth. Recently, everything has become difficult for me, even the daily routine. I ask other scholars, and they say it's normal and to be expected, but I feel they don't truly understand. What can be done?

Thank you, Moshe.

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Hello Moshe,

In the battle against the evil inclination, during the first stage familiar to us from the beginning of teshuvah, we are granted powerful tools as a gift. Indeed, like giant bulldozers. This is understandable because leaving a comfortable and familiar world requires real devotion, breaking away from familiar habits. Because it's so challenging, Hashem gives us special help, and we feel elevation, closeness, attachment, and delight. This is how it is at the start of teshuvah.

This parallels the Exodus from Egypt. A whole nation followed Hashem into the wilderness, an unyielding land, and was rewarded with miraculous revelations at the splitting of the sea and Mount Sinai. However, it was only a taste of something taken from them soon. Much hard personal work was required afterward in all the journeys to the Land of Israel. This is part of the ascent process, part of getting closer to Hashem.

So too with us. As we progress in our teshuvah, we must face deeper and more hidden realms within our souls. There are different types of spiritual shells. They might appear thin, which is misleading. These shells are more resilient and cannot just be beaten away; doing so might even make them thicker and harder, similar to the plague of frogs that multiplied. We can't remain at such intense levels of direct battle, as it can burn us out. The approach shifts. The discernment becomes more subtle, not between absolute good and evil, but among many delicate types that aren't clearly for or against us.

This differentiation between absolute good and evil, and less clear versions, exists everywhere. It even shows up in children's literature. The villains are always depicted as terrifying foreigners with sharp fangs and knives in hand, but real life reveals villains as ordinary, polite individuals who are still iniquitous. Even in the laws of Shabbat, the task of separating the wheat from its many chaff layers is not just between wheat and straw. Within the wheat itself, there are thin shells only separated through sifting after grinding. This is a refined process of clarification.

In every area, kabbalistic texts state that even within us, there are shells. Our soul is surrounded by various shells, some of which cannot be broken without costly ricochets. The dust of them might take part of our personality, a vital part that also needs to undergo teshuvah. An extreme and aggressive approach might clip our wings, and in the future, it will take its toll—severely.

There is no need to clip wings to return to teshuvah. There are shells that must not be broken; they must be gently cleaved and redirected—not smashed and shattered.

Once there was a marvelous method to break something without diminishing it. This method was called "Shamir worm." It split the stone without leaving any dust, but it was hidden away. Now we are in an almost impossible struggle, but there's hope. I read in one book that it's akin to a cannon. You can't hit the target with the first shot, but every shot allows you to correct the deviation and adjust in the opposite direction. "Seven times a righteous person falls and rises," the fall is necessary, and every fall brings us closer to the target. This is part of the process. Through these attempts to hit the mark, through the efforts we make, we can achieve something, and that something is all that's required of us. We've reached the stage where the jumbo hammer can be stored. The shell of Noga, where darkness and light are mixed, requires delicate, refined sorting, through song, through experience, through joy and dance.

Many people, who are not baalei teshuvah, do not fully grasp this point. What do we go through? Why do we feel the need to continually reflect on and work through our status as baalei teshuvah? Naturally, they equate our struggles with theirs, considering everyday life requires facing similar hardships in relationships, education, and livelihood. They claim that childhood memories aren’t a significant factor in life, and everyone is sure they have the winning formula for dealing with life's challenges. One claims persistent Torah study will break all shells, another suggests dedicating more to prayer. Some stress practical effort in all fields, others argue everything is divine providence, so just accept the decree with love. Everyone emphasizes there are good times and bad times, and that's just how it is—one must cope.

What can I say? Everyone is intelligent, wise, and knowledgeable about the Torah, but if we seriously consider the words of our sages, who teach us the significant impact of childhood and early learning, we will understand we lack something fundamental beyond the tools we've learned. Something unique to our work as baalei teshuvah.

Years ago, I heard a wonderful idea from Rabbi Michael Bechor. He said that for us, baalei teshuvah, all year is like Elul. How true this is. This is the point my friends, who are not baalei teshuvah, cannot understand. During the entire year, we are not in the natural flow of ordinary people who are settled in their ways. We are like a group of immigrants, a wandering generation, always busy proving to ourselves who we are. In our path of righteousness, there are missing volumes on Hashem's unconditional love for us. A stranger would not understand this. We are in the tension and atmosphere of Elul throughout the whole year.

So indeed, it's essential to strengthen in Torah and prayer. It's necessary to accept fate with love, take responsibility, and make an effort. Without this—we're at risk. But in addition to all these, there's an effort unique to us, which includes striving to achieve a good life routine where we feel at ease and content.

Rabbi Zamir offers guidance to baalei teshuvah: Answers to doubts during strengthening:

It's hard to specify all types of efforts, but to create an island of sanity and pleasant routine, there are three conditions:

The first condition is a peaceful household. Despite all the difficulties and differences between husband and wife, the secret and key is "love covers all transgressions." Allocate time for joyful and satisfying quality time. If the home is happy and full of love—it has the power to grow and empower.

The second condition is financial independence. This was discussed thoroughly in the previous article, highlighting the importance of being aware that more expensive stages are ahead. The sages taught us all body parts depend on the heart, and the heart—on the pocket. Much effort is required not to be stuck in a bitter and frustrated mindset, full of resentment, because one and their family rely on others' charity. It's not just about salary and livelihood, which is a means to self-fulfillment and realizing the talents Hashem planted in us. The sages instruct us, "Honor Hashem with your wealth—from what He granted you." When one doesn't professionalize and realize their talents, they may feel trapped and resentful.

These two conditions are extremely important, but from whichever perspective we look at it, one must make extra effort to adhere to Rabbi Nachman of Breslov's advice, who defines the third condition—to constantly strive to be joyful. Always. Even when it's tough. Even without time for anything. Invest in the relationship and buy a gift for your wife. Listen to music in the background. Create positive experiences for the children. Dance with them. Dance even without them. Continuously giving ourselves positive experiences. Only this way can we not only survive but actually enjoy daily life.

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To sum up, our work as baalei teshuvah is challenging and encompasses different stages. I truly believe that teshuvah provides real tools to face difficulties, moving us from illusions to a more mature and conscious place, where the sense of closeness and attachment is more genuine.

And most importantly—let's not forget the beginning. We aren't here just to survive, sort things out, live somehow, or succeed in getting our daughter into seminary. We have a role and mission—far beyond that—to succeed in bringing all our strengths, insights, and experiences, and sanctify this within the Torah world, with unity and love.

Good luck!