When Surrendering Becomes a Blessing

We love being in control. We’re taught that controlling our thoughts, our emotions and our actions is the key to a balanced and healthy life.

And yet, even the most disciplined among us can easily lose control. There are moments, for example, when tears can squeeze out of our eyes, and no matter how hard we try to stop them, they just keep coming out. There are other moments when our anger can hijack us and we can’t do anything to stop it.

What should we call that—a surrender to the unstoppable?

Given that I experienced some uncontrollable tears recently, I decided this year to make “surrender” the theme of my Kol Nidre talk at the Chabad at Beverly Hills Hotel. A few people asked me to write about it, so here’s a distillation of my talk.

One of the most essential questions in life is how to make the correct decisions. But what gets in the way of making these good decisions?

I spoke about the mind, the heart and the soul. In our everyday lives, the mind and the heart make most of the noise. They’re consumed with our daily struggles, current events, our wins and losses and our minute-to-minute checking of texts, emails and social media feeds. In this whirlwind of activity, they take turns being the boss. Sometimes our minds rule us; sometimes our hearts do.

The price we pay for this noisy dance between mind and heart is that they shut down our souls, where our inner godliness resides. The idea of the soul can be esoteric and difficult to grasp. The clearest way I’ve heard it explained is that our soul represents our inner wisdom. When we quiet the noise driven by our minds and hearts, we can more readily access the serenity of that inner, intuitive wisdom.

In other words, there is a deep, godly part of us that knows naturally and instinctively what is right and what is wrong. It doesn’t need arguments or even explanations. It can guide us with a decision as mundane as going to the gym, or as consequential as resisting anger.

Yom Kippur is an ideal time to connect to that inner wisdom. We are stripped of all daily concerns and interruptions—no food, no water, no current events, no social media, no texts or emails. It’s just us and God; us and our souls.

Our toughest job is to convince ourselves that we do, in fact, have that inner wisdom. It’s easy to forget that. Our minds are filled with memories of wrong decisions, moments when we may have hurt others and even ourselves. Given that painful noise of memory, it’s natural that any “inner wisdom” will be hard to see or feel.

But that’s precisely why we take advantage of the stillness of Yom Kippur to connect with that deeper side. The melodies, the prayers, the solemn mood of the day, are all there to help us along.

Yom Kippur, then, becomes a kind of spiritual springboard that sets us on the right path for the rest of the year. What matters most, after all, is not what we do during the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but what we do during the 355 days between Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. Those are the true days of awe.

What matters most, after all, is not what we do during the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but what we do during the 355 days between Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. Those are the true days of awe.

We know we’re on the right track when we surrender to the wisdom of our souls; when our inner godliness, our inner goodness, comes to us automatically; when we don’t need to overthink, because we allow our inner wisdom to drive our decisions.

When my tears came out the other day, it was my soul speaking. I had no choice but to surrender and let them flow. Tears can flow from overwhelming sadness or sublime beauty. We surrender to both.

Should anger, however, come out of me this year, I know it won’t be my soul speaking. I know I will have surrendered to a heated mind or an anxious heart.

Can we ever get to a point where we can surrender to our inner goodness?

I hope so, because I love the idea. I love that doing the right thing is not just a choice from my mind but a reflex from my soul. I love the thought of being able to let go, knowing I have this divine mechanism inside of me that intuitively knows what’s right.

Maybe I’m also tired of always being in control. It can get exhausting. My mind and heart both need a break. I’m enticed by the prospect of surrendering to something I know will always be good, something I can count on to always bring out my better angels.

Chag sameach.