Internal Inspiration

Often, when we encounter something new, something that fires our imagination or inspires us, we become excited. We throw ourselves into it. We become enthusiastic, even fanatical, wanting to know everything, do everything, share everything.
For example, if we suddenly discover the joys of chess, or become fans of a particular writer, or get interested in a sport, or take up gardening, or become interested in macrobiotic cooking, then we buy books, we surf the web, we're on facebook groups, we're recruiting friends, family, neighbors.

And then, over time, our inspiration, energy and enthusiasm wane. We're still interested, we're still involved, but our activity takes on a certain mechanical tone. We don't want it to be that way. We want the enthusiasm because the activity still interests us, still has value and significance for us.

This same feeling, this same process, applies to our important encounter with Judaism. When first we encounter a particular mitzva (commandment), or an inspiring Torah topic or teacher, our energy and enthusiasm know no bounds as we thirst for the experience. And then, after a while, although the experience is so much a part of us that it doesn't even enter our minds to stop, still, we wonder where is that child-like wonder that got us going in the first place? Must experience dull enthusiasm? Is inspiration only good to get us started, and then it's all just routine?

Rabbi Aharon of Karlin offered a parable to explain the situation. A wealthy merchant once decided to help two poor people in his town. He gave each 5,000 rubles on condition it be repaid in five years.

The first pauper immediately went out and bought a fancy new house, new clothes for his family, even an expensive coach. He lived well and lived high until, of course, the money ran out. At the end of the five years he returned to the merchant, confident he would get a new loan, or at least an extension on the one he'd received.

The merchant was furious. "You have abused the loan," the merchant said, "wasting the opportunity and resources I provided. The loan must be repaid."

The second pauper, on the other hand, bought only the necessities, and purchased with caution. He took the rest and, after doing some research, invested in a business he felt competent to run. As the business began to grow, he set aside part of the profits as repayment of the loan. He and his family worked hard, cherishing the loan, always aware of it. Slowly but surely he was able to put aside enough to be able to pay back the loan. His business also grew, of course, so he and his family were no longer paupers, living modestly but comfortably.

At the end of five years he went to the merchant, and, after thanking him profusely for the loan, explained how he had used it, and returned the money. "Keep it as a gift," the merchant said, "for you have invested wisely and there can be no better use of my money."

The lesson is clear: We must internalize that initial inspiration, invest it, assimilate it into our very being so that, when we need it, we can find it - within ourselves.