Traveling the Longest Road...

I’m sure everyone reading this has heard the saying that the longest distance in the world is between the head and the heart. And yet somehow, it never ceases to amaze us when we act in ways that contradict what we know to be true.

For example, we know Hashem runs the world. We know it as surely as we know the sky is blue and the grass is green! And yet… we scramble for any semblance of control over our lives. When that control slips through our fingers, we spiral into anxiety and near-panic. And then — just to make it worse — we start judging ourselves. Why am I still struggling with this? Shouldn’t I be past these baby emotions already?

Sound familiar? Yeah, me too. You cannot imagine the speed at which I go from deeply spiritual to intensely materialistic and petty. It’s quite impressive actually.

I once heard something from Sara Yehudit Schneider that helped reframe this for me. She asked this: What made Avraham Avinu so special?

The obvious answer — the one most of us learned in elementary school — is that he was the first to discover Hashem’s existence. But, as she pointed out, that can’t really be true. After all, Noach spoke directly with Hashem. Malkitzedek had a relationship with Him. There was even the Yeshiva of Sheim and Ever! Clearly, people knew about Hashem before Avraham came along.

So what made him different?

Rav Tzadok HaKohen explains that before Avraham, knowledge of Hashem was mostly theoretical. People knew about Him — but that knowledge didn’t necessarily change how they lived.

Avraham and Sarah changed the game. They didn’t just believe in Hashem — they embodied that belief. They lived it, breathed it, wove it into everything they did. They took Divine truth out of the clouds and brought it down into real life.

In doing so, they began repairing the gap between head and heart — the very split that started back with the Eitz HaDaas. And  since we’re their descendants, we inherited that same ability. We’re wired to bring unity into the chaos, to connect what we know with how we live. The more integrated we become, the clearer we see Hashem — and the closer we come to shleimus, to real wholeness.

The previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, in his teachings on Parshas Behar, writes about the marriage between body and soul. When we tune in, we can all feel the constant tug-of-war within us — being, on one hand, literally a piece of G-d, and on the other, worrying about what to have for lunch as if it’s the most pressing issue in the universe.

But that very struggle is what elevates us. It allows our finite, physical selves to touch the infinite. It enables us to reach spiritual heights that even malachim,  angels, who are called omdim because they remain in one fixed state, can never attain.

So here’s the thing: instead of feeling discouraged or disappointed when we bump up against our inconsistencies — when what we know doesn’t match what we feel or do — we can recognize those moments for what they are: opportunities to fulfill the purpose for which we were created.

Our job is to bring the Divine into our lives through small, repeated, and often mundane efforts. That’s the essence of holiness. That’s what it means to be Yisrael — “those who struggle with G-d.” The struggle itself isn’t a flaw; it’s our calling. It’s where the holiness lies.

All the best,

Mrs. Aliza Feder

PS- For those of you wondering but how do I close the gap?! What tools can I use to traverse the divide?? Stay tuned for part 2!