Spiritual growth doesn’t have to be an endless battle

Agree or disagree: thinking about spiritual growth is overwhelming.

Do you agree? You’re not alone. To lots of us, getting serious about spirituality means going to battle against ourselves. It means squeezing into boxes we don’t naturally fit into.

Not a very appealing prospect. But what if we could discover a different reality?

In Shema, we’re instructed: “Ve’ahavta eis Hashem Elokecha bechol levavecha.” Addressed to the individual Jew, this posuk commands each of us to “love Hashem your G-d with all your hearts.”

The “s” isn’t a typo. It’s there to show us that we each have two conceptual “hearts” – our yetzer tov (good inclination), and our yetzer hara (evil inclination) – and that we’re obligated to love Hashem with both of them.

Loving Hashem with our yetzer tov makes sense. But how are we supposed to love Him with our yetzer hara? How can something evil love Hashem?

Naturally, we assume that the yetzer tov equals good and the yetzer hara equals bad. Rav Yisrael Salanter, however, highlights a deeper aspect. The yetzer tov, he explains, is our intellect, where detached, logical thinking happens. The yetzer hara refers to our more “human” side – the traits that drive our feelings and desires.

Our intellect doesn’t need too much help to make good choices. Our human side, however, needs a lot more attention. Driven by emotions, it’s wired to seek gratification. Left to its own devices, it can send us barreling off in the wrong direction.

So what’s Rav Yisrael Salanter’s advice for keeping it on the right track?

Last month, we told the story of Rabi Akiva and the rock. Out one day with his sheep, Akiva noticed a smooth, beautifully sculpted stone sitting under a gentle trickle of water. It struck him that if something as soft as water could alter solid rock so gracefully, then Torah could certainly do the same to his heart.

Yes, his heart. Not his mind or his intellect.

He’d always known that studying Torah could mold his mind. So what did the rock teach him? That Torah also had the power to change his “human side.” Through gentle, consistent work, it could turn even his basest elements into something beautiful.

It is said about one of the great Mussar personalities that when he “broke” his negative character traits, the crack could not be heard. In other words, fighting his yetzer hara wasn’t a violent process, but a smooth, gentle one. In the eyes of the Mussar giants, the yetzer hara isn’t a cancer that needs to be eradicated. It’s a diamond in the rough, waiting for Torah to dissolve its outer ugliness and reveal the beauty within it.

That was the message Rabi Akiva read in the rock. He realized that conquering his yetzer hara didn’t necessitate an endless, brutal internal battle. Instead, it could be a natural, gentle evolution, with the waters of Torah slowly eroding his flaws until his inner beauty was revealed.

Spiritual growth isn’t about shattering our old selves to build something new. It’s about uncovering the greatness already inside us. So it doesn’t have to be a harsh, grueling process. Like the water sculpting Rabi Akiva’s rock, it can feel gentle and natural.

How? That is the subject we’ll spend the next few weeks exploring. We’ll learn how to stop approaching the yetzer hara as a foe, and start turning him into our friend. How to persuade him to join our team.

Ultimately, we’ll gain more than just stronger self-control. We’ll be learning how to live our life b’simcha. This approach is all about silencing internal conflict so we can live a life where our full selves are happy and at peace with our every action. And that, as Rav Yisrael explains, brings true happiness.