For most of my life I was not religious. I had seen religious leaders (though not Jewish ones) preach that if their followers just believed enough, prayed hard enough, or repented more their devotion would be answered. That their failures and pain in life came from insufficient or imperfect devotion. To me, this proved that religious submission was nothing more than dangling the carrot in front of the horse. A scheme to make people pursue perfection when perfection is impossible. So for years I adopted the popular attitude of, “Just be a good person.” 

It wasn’t until I looked at my Judaism from a more critical perspective. Not critical in the sense of skepticism, I had been doing that since my teens. Critical in the sense of honestly trying to understand what it was telling me. It’s there that I found an interesting paradox. A mitzvah to strive for perfection and at the same time the understanding that falling short of that perfection is anything but failure. 

You are to fear Hashem, your God, serve Him, cling to Him, and swear by His Name.  (Devarim 10:20)

Parshas Eikev gives us the mitzvah to cling to Hashem. The Hebrew root of deveikus (dalet, bet, koof) is difficult to understand. The root is found in such words as cleave, overtake, connect, and glue. The word first appears in the Torah in the second chapter, “Hence a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, so that they become one flesh.” (Bereishis 2:24) It’s clear deveikus is a commandment to become as close to Hashem as possible, but as the Talmud (Kesubos 111B) points out, how can a human actually cling to Hashem? We’re physical beings and Hashem is 100% spiritual, without limit, abstract, and is closer to a concept than a marriage partner. How are you supposed to ever attain this deveikus? 

The Talmud and subsequent rabbis all offer compelling answers. We can attach ourselves to talmidei chachamim (devoted Torah scholars). Ramban wrote that, “It is possible that the term “cleaving” includes the obligation that you remember G-d and His love always, that your thought should never be separated from Him when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up to such a degree that [a person] during his conversation with people by mouth and tongue, his [entire] heart will not be with them, but instead be directed towards G-d.” (Devarim 11:22) If Hashem is kadosh (holy), then one must achieve a very high level of kedusha, to ever hope to authentically have deveikus with the Creator. In Mesillas Yesharim, the Ramchal describes the attribute of holiness with the goal of “walking before Hashem constantly.” (chapter 26) And The Maharal simply states, “If deveikus is erratic, by chance alone, it is not deveikus at all.”

It’s difficult to not feel burdened by not just an expectation, but a mitzvah, an obligation to reach a level of perfection far beyond what the religious leaders of my youth were urging. How are we ever expected to reach this Godly level without completely uprooting who we are and abandoning the life we enjoy? It feels like Judaism has the same dangling carrot.  

However, the Nesivos Shalom insists the belief of deveikus being a binary trait, that you either have it or you don’t, is a complete misunderstanding. He says, “In regards to all mitzvos of the inner person, the essential obligation is to strive. The fulfillment of the mitzvah is in the concern, the concentration, the will to accomplish – not in the accomplishment itself.” (Essays on the weekly parsha based on Neshivos Shalom pg 198) 

This approach runs counter to the results-driven definition of success we’ve all too often had drilled into us. “The only statistic that matters is the final score.” “Don’t tell me how hard you worked. Show me what you accomplished.” and, “Do or do not, there is no try.” For so many of us, accomplishment has only been understood by tangible, quantifiable, and documentable measures. And that makes sense in a results driven world. People want good products and skillful services. You don’t care how hard your barber strived if they gave you a bad haircut.

But that’s not how a relationship with the Almighty works. Cleaving means learning about Hashem and walking in His ways. In that way we approach Godliness. We strive to become God-like. But this would be the ultimate example of how you can’t be perfect. Clearly we can’t become God.

However, this is also the ultimate example of how striving for that perfection is actually better than if the goal were achievable. We’ve all heard the cliche phrase, “All that matters is that you tried your best.” For the most part, it is a glib consolation for failure. We know this because if you won, but you didn’t try your best, no one would be condemning you. The goal is the tangible outcome. However in the realm of noble character traits, kedusha, and deveikus, it’s about how far on the journey you’ve made it. But specifically in these traits incremental changes may appear small or even imperceptible to the outsider. To Hashem they are the difference between a participation trophy and the Nobel Prize. To the unfamiliar, red wines may all taste the same. To a connoisseur, the slightest dent in a fermentation tank can result in staggering differences in quality. Hashem is the ultimate connoisseur of your relationship with Him. He perceives every subtle refinement in the closeness you share.

Relationships are defined by closeness. The more we learn about someone, the more time we spend contemplating and concerning ourselves with what they want, the more unity we attain. As long as you’re not crossing defined boundaries, the effort to deepen that closeness never goes to waste. That’s why the decision to strive is what matters. It’s all about the choice. 

Choice isn’t a result and it’s always within our control. Where a victory means you’ve completed your pursuit of the goal, striving for deveikus means there are infinite rewards along the way. Victory marks the end of a race. Deveikus has no finish line. Every act of Torah, every mitzvah, every moment spent thinking about Hashem draws us closer than we were the day before. The destination belongs to Hashem. The next step belongs to us.

How close do you want to get?