Chasidus speaks at length about the doctrine of two souls.  Particularly, the Alter Rebbe's Tanya describes the nature of these two opposing spiritual forces which are called the animalistic soul and the G-dly soul.  In short, the animalistic soul is the drive for self-preservation, the life-force and the will of the body.  The G-dly soul is the force that craves unity with G-d above all else.

Tanya teaches us to appreciate the true purpose of our existence and empowers us to choose behaviors that serve as an outlet for the G-dly soul.

But the question is asked: "Who does the choosing?"

The simple answer is "you."  "You" do the choosing.  Why does it have to be any more complicated than that.

But you ask, "Who am I?"

Okay, let's got complicated.  In technical chasidic terms, the "you" that chooses between the animalistic soul and the G-dly soul is actually another soul called that rational soul.  Before we procede, a point of clarification is in order.  In English, the word "soul" carries with it certain unwanted connotations when searching for the proper translation of the Hebrew word "nefesh."  While the English word "soul" implies, well, soulfullness, nefesh is a far less romantic word.  A nefesh is merely a drive or a force which has the potential to animate innert matter such as the body.  Yes, a nefesh is a "spiritual" force inasmuch as it itself is intangible, but again, the English language puts us at a disadvantage because "spiritual" here does not mean holy, altruistic or transcendent.  It just means non-physical much like gravity and magnetism are non-physical, although their effects on the physical are empirically observable.

So, there is this third soul, the rational soul, that does the choosing.  If the animal soul judges everything based on how it affects the self and the G-dly soul's single criterion for evaluating anything is it's gratification of the will of G-d, then the rational soul's basis for choosing what it does is whether or not it makes sense.  The rational soul is amoral.  It is moved by logic, not by sentiment or whim.  It is not concerned with adhering to any particular code or upholding any particular loyalty.  It's only concern is to be consistent.  It interprets stimuli and makes the objective decision most consistent with the information with which it is presented.  That's why the rational soul can side with the animalistic soul at one moment and with the G-dly soul the next.  It's truly impartial -- completely sincere in its readiness to hear out any argument.

Interestingly, the Tanya --which is a guidebook for making better decisions -- speaks very little about the entity that does the deciding.  The Tanya describes both the animalistic soul and the G-dly soul in great depth, yet of the rational soul it hardly makes the faintest allusion.  Why is that so? 

The Tanya doesn't speak ABOUT the rational soul because the Tanya speaks TO the rational soul.  It speaks TO the "you" that makes the decisions.  In other words, the entire book is speaking TO the chooser... ABOUT his choices.

One of my favorite self-help books was written fifty years ago by a Los Angeles plastic surgeon named Maxwell Maltz.  The book, Psycho-Cybernetics, comprised the essence of Maltz's discoveries on the subject of identity and self-image.

Among Maltz's main points and the basis for the term he invented -- psycho (of the mind) cybernetics (computer or a machine) -- is that man is not a machine, but man uses a machine.  That machine is the "goal-striving mechanism" called the mind.  Like any other machine, it has no will of its own.  It is a super-computer which performs those functions for which it is programmed.

In other words, the machine is not moral or immoral.  The machine is not happy or unhappy.  The machine just runs and has no opinion about how it's used.  That's why it can just as well be implemented as a failure mechanism as a success mechanism.  It does whatever YOU tell it to do.

But who is the "you" that orders the machine?  Ah, but this is the thesis of Maltz's book: that self-image is king.  The machine will always work automatically, effortlessly to produce the results consistent with whatever self-image man holds.

In other words, we program our machine by deciding who we are, that is, by way of identification.  So, in terms of Tanya, if we identify with the agenda of the animalistic soul, then the rational soul will make sure that we behave in ways that prove that the animalistic soul is right.  If, on the other hand, we teach ourselves to identify with the G-dly soul, then we quite literally re-program the rational soul to feel logically compelled to make behavioral choices in-line with that which is important to the G-dly soul. 

When we tell the GPS unit in our car that we want to go "home," the GPS doesn't care what we choose to define as "home."  It only knows that it is going to tell us how to get there as quickly as possible.

The study of chasidus is our way of telling the GPS what "home" is.  Chasidus is not entertainment or fun or inspiration.  It is the intellectually rigorous task of re-programming the machine.

The Perfect Excuse

A one-liner from comedian, Steven Wright:

"They told me in school that 'practice makes perfect.'  Then they told me, 'Nobody's perfect.'  ...So I stopped practicing."

A droll observation.  But it raises a serious issue.  Between these two truisms, which one is really true?  Or is the truth somewhere in between.  Is perfection attainable or is it not?

If we're talking about proficiency and skill -- like a major league hitter batting a thousand -- then perfection may be pie in the sky.  But if we're talking about matters of integrity and decency, then perfection is actually our bottom line.  Indeed, perfection doesn't seem like such an unreasonable expectation if we are to think of the alternative as an employee who doesn't steal 99% of the profits or a spouse who is faithful 99% of the time.

Chasidic Self-Help

The first Rebbe of Chabad, R' Schneur Zalman of Liadi, known as the Alter Rebbe, wrote a whole book as a step-by-step guide for  actualizing one's complete personal potential.  The book is called Tanya and its premise is that anyone who earnestly applies the methods clearly outlined in the book will be able to attain personal perfection and, with continued effort, consistently maintain that state for the rest of his or her life.

I Am, I Do

In Tanya, The Alter Rebbe points out an interesting dichotomy in the human condition.  On one hand, man is fallible by nature, prone to selfishness and self-justification.  On the other hand, man is in control over his impulses.  He is not an animal and has free will to act as he wills at any given time.

In other words, we might not be perfect, but we have the choice to do perfect.  Or to put it in psychological terms, not everything that is wrong with us on the inside do we necessarily have to bring into expression on the outside.

This is the perfection which the Alter Rebbe tells us we can achieve -- to become a person who despite being rife with imperfections on the inside, chooses to behave perfectly on the outside.

The Lie of Being Genuine

There is a common knee-jerk reaction -- at least from some people --  to brand this advice as a prescription for hypocrisy.  "If you're flawed on the insides, how dare you project perfection on the outsides?"

But is impulse control hypocrisy?  If you cover your mouth before you cough, are you a hypocrite?  Do you have to say every random thought that pops into your head in order to be "real"?

The correct definition of a hypocrite is one that preaches one set of standards to others while personally adhering to another.  But that's not at all what we're talking about here.  Feeling like doing something selfish and rotten but forcing yourself to do something altruistic and noble isn't called hypocrisy; it's called being a healthy, normal, decent human being.

Whenever we overcome our impulses to behave in a particular way, we aren't pretending not to be something we're not; we are making the decision to do what ought to be done.

"My Name is... and I am a Human Being"

In 12-Step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous, members introduce themselves at every meeting, "My name is so-and-so; I am an alcoholic."

Essential to his survival is the alcoholic's recognition of the difference between being and doing.  On the one hand, he is an alcoholic.  He says so at every meeting.  And since that's who he is, it's obviously not his fault.  On the other hand, he can't drink.  He must maintain total abstinence.  Because drinking or not drinking is something he does and it is entirely up to him what to choose.

It is axiomatic that if we are human, then we suffer from the human condition.  That's just who we are and we're not responsible for it.  At the same time, the human condition is a poor excuse for misconduct.  Whatever our foibles and flaws, behavior is a choice and if we choose to do the wrong thing, we have no one to blame but ourselves.

Jimmy Carter's Heart

When Jimmy Carter first ran for president, a journalist asked the candidate if he had ever been unfaithful in his marriage.  Carter's solemn response was, "I've lusted in my heart," to which he added, "But G-d knows I will do this and forgives me."

What is that supposed to mean?  Was Carter admitting to having natural urges and desires?  And, indeed, if that was the case, should we care?  What kind of news is that?

Imagine asking a Jew, "Did you ever eat on Yom Kippur?" and he answers, "I felt hungry in my stomach."

You felt hungry.  That's not a moral issue.  It's a physiological issue.  You were hungry.  And even if you say that you felt hungry when it was only an hour into the fast and your stomach was still full from Erev Yom Kippur, then it is still just an emotional or psychological issue.  The bottom line is that you did not eat!  You didn't do it.  You didn't talk about doing it.  You didn't even entertain it as an actual thought.  You felt it.

That's why Carter's statement that he "lusted in his heart" makes no sense.  If he was trying to convey that he had felt urges, then what substance is there to his "confession"?  It seems rather like admitting to having driven 50 mph in a school zone... "in your heart".

If, on the other hand, what he was saying is that he hadn't just felt impulses but actually calculated and made plans to act out them out but never actually gone through with them, then that might be worthy of mention.  But then the tag-on "G-d knows I will do this and forgives me" makes no sense.  Why should G-d give out a free pass for a person's scheming just because the All-Knowing is aware of it before it happens?

The Jewish Dichotomy

Either way you read the statement, both it's logic and its belief system seem weak.  At the very least, we can say that it's not a very Jewish answer -- which is perfectly understandable coming from a Baptist. 

1) The very notion that I am condemnable for impulses and feelings is consummately un-Jewish.  Humanity is not damned for being human. 

2) The idea that I am entitled to forgiveness for wrongdoing because my human frailty and fallibility excuses me is equally un-Jewish.

On the one hand, a Jew doesn't need to "come clean" about the fact that he is human but neither does he assume absolvence for misdeed on those same grounds.  Judaism teaches us that we are innately imperfect, but at the same time, G-d has high enough expectations of us to judge our actions against a standard of perfection.

When Benjamin Franklin wrote about self-perfection in the late 1700s, his ideas were thought to be very un-Christian by many of his coreligionists.  After all, the chief tenet of that religion, the need for salvation, is predicated upon the assumption that we are all hopelessly imperfect.  Self-perfection has no place in such a belief system.  It throws a wrench into the theological gears.

But we Jews don't have that stumbling block.  We don't look to G-d for salvation from our imperfections but for direction how to heal the world from its imperfection.  Our job -- the job we were chosen for -- is to put our own imperfection aside and take actions that help make a perfect world.

A Jew thus has not only the license but the obligation to pursue perfection in his or her deeds.  After all, there is really nothing stopping us.  Or as the saying goes, "Everyone is just as much of a mentch as he wants to be."