Rabbi Nachman of Breslov: The Inextinguishable Fire

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov: The Inextinguishable Fire

by Peter Beyfus

Most Jews do not go in for saints, sages, cults or even rabbis; we are not that keen on displaying reverence to fellow mortals. In some respects this healthy scepticism about assumed importance is a good thing, promoting free-thinking, but on the other hand it can lead to a closed mind and therefore a loss of opportunity to share experiences and the insights of others. But, occasionally, one encounters, either in reading or in person, an individual who makes a lasting impression; this could be an outstanding scholar or a person of enormous moral authority. One such man, in my opinion, stands out as worthy of our admiration, and that is the mystic, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov.

He was born in 1772, was the founder of the Breslov Hasidic Movement, a revivalist sect that engendered hope and excitement at the prospect of the Messianic Age; a counter to despair and persecution that was experienced by many Jews living in Easter Europe.  He was a great grandson of Israel Baal Shem Tov, who founded the Hasidic Movement in the Ukraine, but by the time Nachman was born Hasidism was in danger of becoming  too rigid, lacking spontaneity; this was his impetus to breath “fire” into a life-affirming variety of Judaism. His words of wisdom, the joy for life he spread among his followers and his emphasis on meditation and extemporised prayer have had a profound influence on all branches of Judaism – his insights into man’s relationship with G-d transcends sectarian differences. He made no claims to be superior to others, believing that any man could strive to become closer to G-d. Nachman, unlike many other prayer leaders, had the ability to communicate with ordinary people, to talk with peasants about spiritual matters without condescension. The core of his teaching (hitbodedut) centred on getting closer to G-d through a process of purging oneself of negative thoughts and emotions and entering into a dialogue with the Infinite. Many of his aphorisms read like a conversation between good friends, and that in essence is how Nachman viewed G-d, as one’s best friend! It is through mitzvot that we gain greater access to G-d’s presence and love. Nachman’s theology was simple but exacting: To reach for the skies, to gain dominion over the angels, to continue to rise higher and higher through devotion to G-d and realise His presence in the world, and to be aware of how easy it is to lose sight of one’s responsibility on Earth. He  sums it up thus: “For the sake of one small pleasure lasting a mere quarter of an hour, a person can lose the whole of this world together with the world to come!” How often have we heard and read of those who squandered their talents on materialism, losing not just positions of influence that gave the potential for changes that would  benefit many people, but also loss of self-respect and public esteem.

The name Nachman means comforter, and throughout his life he showed considerable understanding of human frailty and how easy it was for any of us to fall short of our full spiritual potential. He was a dedicated Kabbalist, observing the rigours of ablutions and fasting, and by the time he was thirteen he was married, not unusual for this period, had one disciple and was predicted to become the greatest of the tzaddikim. The fully developed tzaddik, it is believed, has worked out his relationship with the Divine and is empowered, through teaching and example, to help others to find their way to G-d; it is a mystical partnership between G-d, tzaddik and followers. Tzaddikim means more than just righteous men;  their merits support the world, and Creation was undertaken for their sake; this partnership between G-d and the righteous is an important concept in Hasidism. It is believed that such men have an element of the soul of Moses. This claim gave the leaders of communities in Eastern Europe great power and influence; questioning their authority was regarded as tantamount to rebellion. Nachman was different: he actively encouraged his followers to question and  challenge not just himself but G-d.

Nachman used parables and allegories to illustrate mystical ideas. One example is of a great treasure  one wishes to reach but the way is blocked by a mountain of fire. You have no choice but  to reach the treasure. In many ways the challenge of doing something holy is like passing through a fire; you are uncertain what to do, trying to decide the right course of action. Barriers appear to spring up, preventing you from doing what your soul commands. Nachman’s answer to this dilemma was to cry out to G-d, indeed to “silently scream”, to our Father, as a child does to his parent, pouring out thoughts, fears and complaints. G-d, like any loving parent, will listen. Speak to G-d, argue with Him, allow time each day for conversation with G-d; you will surely be worthy of finding Him. The language one uses is not prescriptive; Nachman used Yiddish, your native tongue will do, the idiot may babble – all the same to G-d!

Nachman was not a conventional rebbe, preferring to walk with his followers in the fields and hills. He taught his followers to meditate, to be at one with Nature: “When summer approaches seclude yourself and meditate in the meadow, outside the city. Prayer and the revival of life in the fields after winter are partners, both feeding on each other to proclaim G-d’s love for His Creation. Nature, whether it be a blade of grass or Man himself,  “sings out” to G-d. But Nachman proclaimed you don’t need to be in the open; spending time in a quiet room to pray and study is equally beneficial. I remember the late David Jacobs, broadcaster, saying how he found respite from the demands of his job, travelling and preparing to go on air, by finding a Friends Meeting house where he could sit quietly and meditate. Nachman urged his followers and those seeking answers to the great questions of existence to ask “what?”. To every condition of life, ask “what?”…

In 1798, in a state of near poverty, Rabbi Nachman, accompanied by a single companion, went to Eretz Yisrael. It took five months to get there. He felt that he imbibed holiness from his visit but within a year he was back in Russia. In 1802 he settled in Breslov where he spent most of the remainder of his life. From 1806 he began to tell his wonderful stories, thirteen of his long stories are extant. The telling of stories was, as he stated, an acknowledgement that conventional teaching had failed to communicate his message, so through using parables he sought to share with his followers the wisdom he had accumulated; but also stories were a vehicle to express truths that ordinary, functional language was inadequate to convey. These stories or allegories are rich in symbolism, and many of us are familiar with the representation of G-d as King and a different aspect of the Divine as His daughter; it is She, the beautiful princess, who lives in the world. This essay is not the place to recount these stories but I recommend them to the reader. In 1802 Nachman went to Uman where, 30 years before, thousands of Jews had been massacred. He visited the cemetery where the dead had been laid to rest and commented he wished to be buried there. Five years later Nachman contracted TB, and in 1810 he relocated to Uman, dying in the autumn of the same year, at the age of thirty-eight.

What is his legacy? Whether Rabbi Nachman would approve of the Hasidic cult that has developed over the last two hundred and fifty years and the vast number of pilgrims who visit his graveside each year,  I would not venture an answer; but his life, wisdom and writings have inspired many generations of Jews to look more deeply into themselves and to the world that is part of their inheritance. Nachman transcends definable movements within Judaism, whether you be Hasid, mainstream Orthodox, or Progressive there is something about the man that touches a deep well of ancestral longing in all of us. The non-Jewish world may dabble in Kabbala, al la Madonna, in search for esoteric answers , but, ultimately, Nachman’s message was look in, look out; see G-d’s presence in all creation; make time to find that divine spark in yourself and fulfil your purpose in this world by rescuing “the lost Princess” – what we call tikkun olam; and the fire that lit up the world two and a half centuries ago still burns brightly, as a beacon for all humanity.

Peter Beyfus