Thought and Feeling There are two things that we vitally need, yet both of which we lack. One is that our mindfulness, our meditative awareness, will be broadened and improved; the other is that we will experience inspiration and emotion. In truth, these two are one.

If a person is suffering (heaven forbid), when he prays to God, he does not feel any lack of imagery or concentration. Similarly, a Jew who is aflame on the Days of Awe does not he lack attentiveness. When he is on fire and inspired, he does not entertain any this-worldly thoughts. Instead, all that he has in mind, all that he feels, is in accord with his situation, with his spiritual passion. He sees the Throne of Glory brought all the way down to his level and that he now stands before God; and deeply moved, he praises God. He is not praising and lauding some king hidden from him, thousands of miles away, but God Who is right before his eyes. He quotes the verse, “Yours, Hashem, is the greatness and the might” (Chronicles), and then he prays, “My Father, compassionate Father, help me in all that I need,” and he enumerates his needs.

Later, he can no longer comprehend the state of the thoughts he had had when he had been aflame. For one thing, since that thought had been so filled with pain, it was like the smallest part of his fiery inspiration . Secondly, the only tool he possesses to comprehend that thought is everyday, physical thought. But physical thought can only analyze physical thought, composed of form and image.

The emotional arousal and impassioned state that any Jew experiences is actually a species of revelation of his spirit, independent of his body. So why toil in vain trying to understand it by using physical thought?

Pure mindfulness depends upon inspiration and fiery enthusiasm; and fiery enthusiasm depends upon pure mindfulness. If you could soften your heart so that you were always filled with spiritual passion, your mindfulness would be more pure. If you possessed pure mindfulness, you would be able to attain a state of fiery awakening whenever you choose.

And so in order to serve God, a Jew needs both of these: to expand his thought and to be able to feel passionately.

Therefore, we must discuss not only how to broaden meditative thought, but also how to arouse the flame of the heart. Let us seek out ideas and strategies, and may God enlighten our eyes and help us so that in the end we will be able to raise ourselves from the muck (in which we are plunged) that now envelops us up to our necks.

If we are unable to begin our spiritual journey by awakening holiness directly, let us fall back on our approach of descending to the lowest point of a person’s physical self and raising him from there. Let us begin with a physical awakening, because (as stated earlier) every awakening—even if it is only physical—is a key to our soul.

Imagine if person’s son were arrested and imprisoned, and he can only visit his son when the warden enters the cell to interrogate him. Since the cell was opened only for the purpose of the criminal investigation, a foolish father will only speak with his son about the case. But a wise father will reason, “True, it is the warden who has opened the cell door. But since it is open and my son stands before me, I will embrace him, kiss him, and speak to him as a loving father.”

Every feeling that is connected to something of this world opens a spark of our soul, and our soul is revealed a little bit. Let us then consciously draw it out even more. Let us greet it with words of love, awe and pure, God-directed mindfulness. Since this feeling based on physicality has opened and revealed our soul a bit, we have something to begin with. We can now knock upon the door of our heart and summon our soul from behind the gates of bronze, where it stands imprisoned. “Open for me, my sister, my friend” (Song of Songs). “Come forth to serve God with purity and passion, with faith, love and awe.”

For example, we all have worries about something in our own life or about someone who is deeply important to us. When we bring these troubles to mind and imagine them vividly, as though they stand before our eyes, our heart melts with emotion, and inside, we even weep.

Bring these thoughts up deliberately. And when your heart is aroused and broken, consider: “Why should I break my heart and weep for nothing? Isn’t God before me? I am standing before the Throne of His Glory. And so I will cry to God, Who hears the sound of weeping.”

Then, utilizing the advice of the Ravad regarding thought and image (as taught previously), realize strongly that you have ascended and are standing before the Throne of Glory, before God, where you have been given the opportunity to pray and plead. Then you will see what meaningful prayer you will experience as a result of this visualization.

If thinking about some past concern doesn’t awaken your spirit, then follow the advice of the Talmud: “recall the day of your death.”

The Talmud says that even the wicked know that they will die. So why do they remain wicked? Because they only know this in a general way. It is only a general idea that does not break their heart with vivid detail.

So imagine that you have reached that event, one that every individual finally comes to after living his length of days and years. Imagine that you have reached your last minute on earth; imagine how you will look at the entire world and at your children, from whom you must part. Your body will go beneath the earth with the insects and the worms. And your soul will be led on a path whose destination you do not know.

Your children will surround you, weeping and crying out, “Woe, my dear father, my dear father!”

Your friends and family will moan and call to you.

As for you, you will hear and understand everything, but will be unable to do a thing. You will yearn and plead to live, but your heart will beat so violently that it will almost burst. Your throat will choke so that you will be about to suffocate. And then your soul will be ripped from your throat and heart.

And as you are being brought to the cemetery, your son will beat his head and wail and cry, “My father, my dear father, have you left us? Are your torn away from us forever?”

Your daughter will throw herself to the ground. She will shriek bitterly and wail, “I cannot live without you, my father. If only I could die instead of you!” Tears will stream from her eyes and wails will burst from her throat until it will seem that her suffering and wails will kill her.

These, your children’s voices, will cause everyone, the living and the dead, to tremble. And the others there will also moan and sob—in pity for you and for them. You will be surrounded by outcries, distress and misery.

In the end, everyone will go home. But where will you be, and with whom will you be left alone?

If you learn Reishis Chochmah, Zohar and the midrashim on what happens to a person and his soul after he dies, even if you have a heart of stone, it will certainly melt.

Now, having immersed yourself in these bitter feelings, you will ascend to a worthy prayer, one that does not lack feeling, thought, faith, love or awe of God.