A king once discovered a man chopping wood in the cold. He was taken by the grace and elegance of his wood chopping movements, so he approached him with a proposal. “Why do you have to stay in the cold? I like the scenery of your work, come to my palace. I’ll support you, you just have to take the axe and do the movements.”
The man figured it was a deal, so he agreed.
He performed the chopping motions just as he was doing in the forest. However, there was nothing coming from his work. He was getting payment and everything taken care of, but his actual effort was pointless. After a day or two, he approached the king.
“There’s work but no accomplishment! I may have been getting paid less before, but at least my effort was useful.”
There is a profound teaching brought in Chassidus from the Gemara, Bava Metzia 38a: "A person desires a kav [unit of measure] that is his more than nine kabbim belonging to another." This statement speaks to the deep human instinct for ownership, not just of material possessions, but of one’s path, purpose, and even the redemption of the world. When it comes to matters of personal significance, people often value their own efforts and contributions over what others can offer, even if what others provide seems superior. This is particularly true when we speak about the ultimate goal of redemption and the end of days.
This theme is echoed in a fascinating incident from the end of the book of Bereishis, Vayechi, where Yaakov (Jacob) sought to reveal to his sons the "end of days"—the future redemption of the world. Yet, as he attempted to impart this revelation, the Shechina (Divine Presence) withdrew from him.
What is the meaning behind this withdrawal?
Yaakov’s desire to tell his sons about the coming redemption was not only an expression of his love and hope for their future, but also a call for them to act in a way that would hasten the coming of the Moshiach (Messiah). Yet, Hashem (G-d) did not allow Yaakov to share this knowledge. Why?
The answer lies in the idea that true redemption, the Geulah, cannot be imposed from above. While Yaakov’s intentions were pure, Hashem withdrew His Shechina to teach him that the redemption must come from within the people themselves. It must be their own efforts, a product of their will and striving, that brings it about. This is why the Shechina withdrew—it was a message that the redemption is not something that can be hastened by external force or knowledge. It must come through the personal growth and spiritual awakening of each individual.
This lesson is particularly relevant in our own lives. There are times when we may see the answers to the problems faced by our loved ones—whether they are friends, family, or colleagues. Other times, those same people have the answers to our problems but either they don’t share and/or we aren’t ready to hear it. We may have the knowledge, the tools, and the wisdom to guide them, but often, our advice falls on deaf ears. Why? Because the departing of the Shechina teaches us that the solution must come b’koach atzmo — from within the person, from their own understanding and effort. The answers we seek cannot be simply handed over, even if they are rooted in truth.
In our relationships, we may feel the desire to "reveal the end of days" to those close to us—helping them see the way forward, guiding them toward the answers we believe will solve their problems. But like Yaakov, our efforts may be thwarted. This does not mean we should give up on helping others, but rather that we should allow them to come to their own conclusions, to seek out their own redemption. The world may want to dictate the answers, but ultimately, the redemption must arise from one’s own efforts, b’koach atzmo.
The phrase "end of days" itself may hold a deeper meaning. It is not simply a reference to a future event, but rather to a state of being beyond time—when the world will live in a perpetual state of presence, unbound by the constraints of time and space. This state, described in the messianic era, is one of profound spiritual awareness and harmony. Perhaps "the end of days" is not only about a distant future but also a transformation in consciousness. A time when humanity, through their own efforts, awakens to this deeper, timeless truth.
As mentioned, society may want to dictate what you should do or think, so to silence this pressure, there is a question that arises: "What do I think?" In the noise of the world, we are often pulled in many directions. People close to us may offer advice, society may impose its standards, and circumstances may dictate a course of action. But we must remember that, in the end, the true path to redemption comes when we listen to our hearts and souls—when we stop and ask ourselves what we truly think. To find the answers, we must quiet the external noise and tune into our inner wisdom.
Ultimately, redemption is a personal journey, as well as a collective journey. The Shechina did not withdraw from Yaakov to prevent him from helping his sons; rather, it was a lesson to Yaakov that his sons path to redemption could not be dictated by him, nor by anyone else. It has to come from within. And so, too, must our answers come from within ourselves.
To find the path to redemption in our own lives, we must open our hearts, listen to our souls, and trust that the answers lie within us. The world may try to tell us what to do, but true guidance comes from within. In this way, we bring the redemption not by rushing it from above, but by nurturing it from the depths of our own being.
*Adapted from Likkutei Sichos in English, Vayehi Sichos number 3.
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