To Be Born Again

A person can know a lot, pray a lot, and even do a lot of good — but if he keeps it all hidden, he has not yet fully entered the world. 

Born Into the Real World

I have never been inside a delivery room. However, from what I’ve been told… a baby cries at birth.

Why does the baby cry? What is really happening in that moment, when a child comes out into the world?

The Talmud (Niddah 30b) describes the baby’s life before birth. It says that while the child is still in the mother’s womb, “a candle is lit above his head,” and he is able to see from one end of the world to the other. The Talmud says that there are no days in a person’s life as good as those months before birth, and that the child is taught the entire Torah.

In other words, before birth, the baby is comfortable both physically and spiritually. He does not even need to make the effort to eat. “The baby eats what his mother eats and drinks what his mother drinks,” as the Talmud says.

The baby’s first crisis begins the moment he leaves his mother’s womb and enters the world. The Talmud says that as soon as the child is born, an angel comes and strikes him on the mouth, causing him to forget all the Torah he had learned.

The dream is over. He wakes up to the difficult reality of the world.

And before he enters that world, the Talmud says, the child is given an oath: “Be righteous and do not be wicked.” He is told that even if the whole world tells him he is righteous, he should still see himself as someone who has more to accomplish. He is also reminded that G-d is pure, His servants are pure, and the soul placed inside him is pure. If he protects that purity, good. If not, the soul can be taken from him.

The key distinction is that until the child is born, he is only receiving. He learns Torah from the angel, and he receives everything he needs from his mother.

But the moment he is born, he enters a cold and unfamiliar world, and the struggle of life begins.

This is the Chassidic meaning of the opening words of this week’s Torah portion, Ki Seitzei: “When you go out to war against your enemy” (Deuteronomy 21:10).

On the simple level, the Torah is speaking about an actual war. But Chassidus reads the verse also as a lesson in our service of G-d. It is speaking about the war of the soul as it comes down into this world. The soul has to battle the yetzer hara, the inner pull toward negativity, which is the sworn enemy of the soul.

The verse continues, “and you shall capture its captives.” That means we are not only meant to overcome the negative impulse. We are meant to elevate and refine its part in the world, and transform it into good.

In simple words: until birth, a person only receives. He “thinks about himself,” and does not yet give anything of his own to the world.

But once he is born, the process begins in which he starts contributing to the world.

At first, simply by being looked at, he gives joy and nachas to his parents, grandparents, and everyone around him. That itself is already a kind of contribution.

And as a person grows older, he is expected to give more and contribute more to society.

When he becomes bar mitzvah, he becomes responsible for mitzvahs and can help complete a minyan. He begins to think more about the community and less only about himself.

And later, when he gets married, he shares his life with another person, and then with his children and descendants for many long years.

From Receiver to Giver

In a sense, every person is born again every single day — and we need to feel that way.

For many people, that is not an easy idea to accept. Most people would like to live their private lives quietly and peacefully. They want to take care of themselves, and maybe their families, but not much beyond that.

But to be “born again” means to contribute to the world. It means changing something in the world, helping someone else, doing something for another person.

In Tanya (Iggeres HaKodesh, section 13), the Alter Rebbe explains that there are two kinds of people in the service of G-d.

There is one type of person who does everything quietly, without noise or attention. When he gives charity, he gives it secretly. He studies Torah privately. He prays quietly. 

But for the Jewish people in our generation, that is not enough. We need mitzvahs that are visible. We need people to do good openly. We need people to give charity in a way that others can see.

There are two reasons for this.

The first reason is simple: when a person does something good openly, he becomes a living example. Other people see him and are inspired to do the same. But if he does everything quietly and secretly, nobody knows about it, and nobody is moved by it.

But there is a second reason, and this is the main one.

Very often, people who do everything quietly also do everything in a limited way. They do what they have to do — but not more.

The Alter Rebbe explains this in Tanya. He says that among those who serve G-d, there are two different approaches. One approach is connected with the “left side,” which represents limitation, privacy, and holding back. This is the approach of “walking humbly.” From this approach comes a measured and limited way of serving G-d. In charity, a person gives according to what is required. In Torah study and other mitzvahs, he does enough to fulfill his obligation.

In other words, a person who serves G-d only quietly and privately may end up doing only the minimum. Everything is measured. Everything is limited. Everything is calculated.

But then there is the “right side,” which represents kindness, openness, and expansion. This is a way of serving G-d broadly, generously, and without hiding. As the verse says, “I will walk expansively.” A person like this does not hold back his generous spirit — not in charity, not in Torah study, and not in other mitzvahs. He is not satisfied with just fulfilling the basic obligation. He wants to do more and more, without limit.

So we learn that when a person does good openly, with energy and visibility, he will ultimately accomplish much more than someone who lives only quietly and privately for himself.

That is why every day a person has to be born again. He has to leave the “womb.” He cannot remain only a receiver. He has to become a giver. And not only a quiet, hidden giver, like the baby who may know the entire Torah—but he is not sharing that Torah with anyone. He needs to be born. Even if you forget all the Torah you learned — that’s when you have the opportunity to help the world, affect the world, and give something to the world.

That is what it means, according to Chassidus, to be born again.