Cohen Wiskind-Elper, Aviezer Ora. 2026. 'Theology and Praxis in Hasidism', St Andrews Encyclopaedia of Theology. Edited by Brendan N. Wolfe et al. https://www.saet.ac.uk/Judaism/TheologyandPraxisinHasidismCohen Wiskind-Elper, Aviezer Ora. "Theology and Praxis in Hasidism." In St Andrews Encyclopaedia of Theology, edited by Brendan N. Wolfe et al. University of St Andrews, 2022–. Article published February 2, 2026. https://www.saet.ac.uk/Judaism/TheologyandPraxisinHasidism.Cohen Wiskind-Elper, A. O. (2026) Theology and Praxis in Hasidism. In: B. N. Wolfe et al., eds. St Andrews Encyclopaedia of Theology. University of St Andrews. Available at: https://www.saet.ac.uk/Judaism/TheologyandPraxisinHasidism [Accessed ].Aviezer Cohen and Ora Wiskind-Elper, 'Theology and Praxis in Hasidism', in St Andrews Encyclopaedia of Theology, ed. by Brendan N. Wolfe et al. (University of St Andrews, 2026) <https://www.saet.ac.uk/Judaism/TheologyandPraxisinHasidism>
1 Introduction: theology and praxis
This article focuses on two foundational concepts in early Hasidic theology and their implications for religious praxis. The analysis centres on the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and his immediate disciples, highlighting how these ideas shaped Hasidic thought in its formative generations.
To address the enduring question of God’s relationship to the world, Hasidic thought developed a distinctive notion of divine immanence through two key principles. First, the belief in God’s indwelling presence within all aspects of reality – captured by the verse ‘[t]he whole Earth is filled with His glory’ (melo kol ha-aretz kevodo, Isa 6:3) – suggests that all existence is permeated by the Divine. This idea destabilizes fundamental boundaries – ontological as well as moral – such as the distinctions between the forbidden and the permitted or between good and evil, and may thereby challenge the very foundations of normative religious obligation. Second, the kabblistic concept of ‘raising the sparks’ posits that every phenomenon in the world contains divine vitality – without which it could not exist.
Since Hasidism is primarily concerned with existence as experienced rather than abstract speculation, theoretical treatments of immanence remain marginal. Instead, Hasidic thought emphasizes the lived, practical implications of God’s presence, as articulated in the verse ‘[i]n all your ways, acknowledge Him’ (Prov 3:6) and in the ideal of avodah begashmiyut – divine worship through materiality. These principles expand the realm of religious duty beyond the observance of commandments, suggesting that every human action, even the most mundane, must be sanctified and directed towards divine service. This vision, in which holiness transcends conventional boundaries, leads to an all-encompassing, intensified religious life. (For further discussion of avodah begashmiyut, see Hasidism: Its Thought and Theology, section 9.)
2 Basic concepts in Hasidic theology
Hasidism is a multifaceted religious movement spanning diverse historical periods, regions, and communities. This entry examines two fundamental concepts developed in early Hasidism (c. 1736–1815) that marked its revolutionary religious transformation. Historically, Hasidism can be understood as a series of revolutions that shaped the interpretation of these concepts across generations.
A key distinction must be drawn between the concept of ‘the Earth is filled with His glory’ and that of ‘raising the sparks’ in Hasidism, as these are often conflated despite their contradiction. In Lurianic Kabbalah teaching, the former relates to the Divine act of ‘contraction’ (tzimtzum), the initial event enabling the emergence of a world distinct from the Divine. As will become evident, the assertion of ‘the Earth is filled with His glory’ suggests that tzimtzum never occurred in a concrete, ontological sense but is primarily an epistemological or perceptual phenomenon. This concept envisions a world where the divine is omnipresent, leaving no room for hierarchical distinctions and affirming the equal sanctity of all existence. Central to the Baal Shem Tov’s teachings, it eliminates divisions between sacred and profane, Torah scholar and commoner, body and soul. Symbolically, this reality may be understood as the ‘Tree of Life’ (cf. Gen 2–3).
In contrast, the concept of ‘raising the sparks’ stems from the kabbalistic notion of ‘the breaking of the vessels’, a dramatic event following tzimtzum when reality struggled to contain the divine light introduced into the void. This notion preserves distinctions between sacred and profane, spiritual and material. Symbolically, it aligns with the ‘Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil’. Here, the Divine exists as a spark within the non-divine, requiring extraction and elevation. The non-divine is thus not an object of dialogue but a means to an end.
By contrasting these two theological paradigms, we gain insight into the dynamic and often paradoxical nature of Hasidic thought. The interplay between divine omnipresence and the imperative of redemptive action remains a hallmark of Hasidic theology, profoundly influencing its spiritual practices and historical development.
Twentieth-century Hasidic thinker Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira of Piaseczno articulated this well:
Hasidism is the final stage of revelation before the coming of the Messiah, and it brings the first rays of his luminous holiness. The coming messianic revelation – its essence is foreseen in the verse, ‘The world will be filled with knowledge of God as the waters cover the Earth’ (Isa. 11: 9). Now, the Baal Shem Tov’s entire teaching is founded on this verse, on its simple meaning: ‘The whole Earth is filled with His glory’ [Isa. 6:3]. […]
He affirmed not only that divine vitality dwells in every dimension of reality, enveloped and hidden by materiality. Far more: matter and earthliness themselves are but an illusion […]. All that is needed are eyes to see and a body striving towards holiness. Then, when you contemplate the world, you will see God and God sees you. ‘The whole Earth is filled with His glory’: everything, even earthliness, garments, vessels – all of them are imbued with His sacred radiance. This is the beginning stage of ‘The land shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord,’ etc., which will be realized at the Messiah’s advent (may it come speedily, in our days), that all the Earth will be full with God’s wisdom. (Mevo HaShearim, ch. 3; translations by the author)
R. Shapira underscores that the Baal Shem Tov’s innovation lies not in ‘raising the sparks’ but in the teaching that all existence is inherently divine. While ‘raising the sparks’ maintains a hierarchy, distinguishing ‘divine vitality’ from ‘earthliness’, the Baal Shem Tov’s radical view holds that all existence is of equal value. This perspective enables the emergence of the ‘subject’ in the precise sense – an ‘other’ beyond comparison, not merely an object relative to others. A parallel conceptual distinction appears in late modern thought, notably in Franz Rosenzweig’s differentiation between ‘personality’ – a socially comparable and evaluable individual – and ‘self’ – an irreducible and singular existence. While there is no direct influence, this typology echoes the Hasidic distinction between externally defined roles and the emergence of a subject grounded in intrinsic divinity. The radical implications of this idea will be addressed presently.
Notably, the Baal Shem Tov taught both concepts, as recorded by his students, despite their apparent contradiction, which he did not seem to address. While scholars of Hasidism have sought to resolve this theological tension, such discussions lie beyond this entry’s scope. The contradictions and textual gaps may be understood by noting that early Hasidic teachings were delivered orally to specific audiences, addressing immediate concerns, and later transcribed or translated by others in different contexts.
Early Hasidic masters recognized divine immanence as the Baal Shem Tov’s most significant innovation. Two seminal passages by his students illustrate this:
(a) ‘The Land is full of His glory’ – the meaning of ‘His glory’ is equivalent to ‘garments’. This teaches that God, blessed be He, is clothed even in all materiality. Thus, ‘The Land is full of His glory’, meaning reality itself is God’s glory, His garments. (Likutim Yekarim 17:3)
The Divine, specifically His ‘glory’, is manifest in material existence. This immanent presence is concealed, requiring recognition that everything has exterior and interior aspects – garments and essence. What appears corporeal is an illusion separating the divine from the earthly.
(b) In every deed the Creator is present. It is impossible to perform any action or utter a word without the power of the Creator, may His name be blessed. This is the meaning of ‘The Land is full of His glory’ (Isa 6:3). (Keter Shem Tov II, 20:1)
This perspective challenges the normative Halakhic system, which assumes individual responsibility and free choice, by suggesting divine presence in all actions. This raises questions about the Halakhic emphasis on repentance and sanctions, which presuppose individual accountability.
3 The Parable of the Palace in the thought of the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples
One of the most vivid expressions of divine immanence in the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov is illustrated in the Parable of the Palace, a story frequently cited by his disciples and later Hasidic masters. Over time, the meaning of this parable evolved, reflecting broader theological developments within the Hasidic movement.
Quoting a canonical text often enables later thinkers to distinguish themselves from their sources. A comparison with the original version of the parable in Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed (3:51) illuminates the transformation it underwent in Hasidic thought. In Maimonides’ version, the path to knowing God is depicted as a journey into the palace of a king – a journey that requires overcoming numerous obstacles, most of which represent types of scientific, philosophical, and theological knowledge essential for achieving proximity to God.
R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye attributes a Hasidic adaptation of this parable to his master, the Baal Shem Tov:
There was a great and wise king who created illusory walls, towers, and gates. He decreed that all who wished to approach him must pass through them. At each gate, royal treasures were placed. Some people stopped at the first gate, took the treasure, and left. Others pushed onward, reaching the second or third, collecting coins and withdrawing. But the king's beloved son longed to see his father. When he finally overcame all the obstacles and reached the king, he saw that there had never been any walls or gates. The entire structure was illusory. And the meaning of this is clear to those who understand hidden things. (Ben Porat Yosef, Miketz, 340)
The Hasidic parable raises two intertwined questions: an existential-religious one – what does it mean to stand before God? – and an ontological one – does the world possess independent existence, or is the Divine the only true reality? If the latter, the world is absorbed into the Divine (monism or acosmism). From a philosophical standpoint, the parable expresses what might be called a pantheistic worldview. Yet beyond its metaphysical implications, one must ask what kind of praxis the Baal Shem Tov envisions. Does he seek to lead the individual towards unification with the Divine – to be absorbed within it – as his great disciple, R. Dov Ber, the Maggid of Mezeritch, indeed advocates? This would be a mystical path of inward withdrawal and contemplative union. Or does the Baal Shem Tov propose a different model – an extroverted spiritual awareness that situates the individual in ongoing dialogue with the Divine presence that permeates all aspects of reality?
Although Hasidic tradition attributes the parable to the Baal Shem Tov, its meaning is shaped through the interpretive lens of his disciples. This raises a fundamental challenge for scholars: to what extent can we distinguish the original voice of the Baal Shem Tov from the theological elaborations of his followers?
The parable presents a concentric structure: the king resides at the centre, surrounded by seemingly impassable walls and barriers. But once these are overcome, they are revealed as illusory. While the identity of the king as God is undisputed, interpretations vary regarding the symbolic meaning of the walls, gates, and temptations. R. Yaakov Yosef himself offers the following interpretation:
I heard from my master, of blessed memory: When one realizes that ‘the whole Earth is full of His glory’ (Isa 6:3), and that every motion and thought flows from God, then ‘all evildoers are scattered’ (Ps 92:10). Even the angels and the celestial spheres – all are filled with His essence, ‘like the snail whose shell is part of itself’ (Bereshit Rabbah 21:5). Through this realization, the evildoers are indeed scattered. In truth, there is no separation – no barrier or veil – between a person and God may He be blessed. (Ben Porat Yosef, Miketz, 340)
This interpretation conveys a vision of radical immanence: all barriers – human deeds, thoughts, even celestial spheres – exist only in the absence of higher awareness. Once the truth is revealed, it is the very act of awareness that dissolves the illusion.
Philosophically, this interpretation parallels certain insights in modern thought. The parable teaches that consciousness determines reality. One might be reminded of Immanuel Kant’s critical philosophy, in which the structure of consciousness determines the phenomena we perceive. Yet the Baal Shem Tov's view diverges sharply from Kant: he does not limit access to the noumenal realm. On the contrary, the Hasidic view implies that heightened awareness – attained through spiritual practice – can dissolve the illusion and reveal the divine essence. Unlike Kant, who argued that the noumenal realm is inaccessible, Hasidism claims that one can, at least momentarily, perceive the real nature of being: that all is divine. At such moments, one encounters divine presence directly, and reality itself is transformed: ‘all evildoers are scattered’.
Still, R. Yaakov Yosef does not present the partitions as sheer fiction. Rather, like Kantian phenomena, they reflect a specific mode of perception – real on one level, yet ultimately deceptive from the standpoint of higher awareness. The seemingly independent existence of the barriers is false; they are merely garments concealing the divine, yet ultimately part of it.
According to this teaching, there are two levels of awareness: the common level, in which reality appears fragmented and autonomous, and the higher level, accessible only to a few, in which all multiplicity is revealed as unity. Yet even one who reaches the highest awareness cannot remain in that state. As the Baal Shem Tov teaches, ‘constant pleasure is not pleasure’ (Toldot Ya’akov Yosef, tazria, 92:2). After glimpsing divine unity, one must return to the world of appearances and function as a finite human being, conditioned by perception and shaped by separation.
Immanence, as an ontological assertion, thus takes on a paradoxical meaning. While the divine fills all reality, human consciousness cannot fully sustain this awareness. Hence arises the Hasidic motif of ratzo ve-shov – ascent and return. In moments of mystical elevation (ratzo), one perceives reality as it is. But this perception must inform – and not negate – life in the realm of concealment (shov). For even after returning to the world of phenomena, one remains transformed by the knowledge of what lies behind the curtain. Immanence, then, is not a static metaphysical claim, but a dynamic process of perception and concealment. The Baal Shem Tov recognizes the existential necessity of living in a world shaped by human limitations, even after one has glimpsed its divine core. In this context, the Hasidic path involves integrating that vision into daily life.
In later Hasidic texts, the Parable of the Palace continues to appear, but its meaning often shifts. In many instances, the ontological dimension recedes. The illusory barriers are reinterpreted not as metaphysical claims but as ethical and psychological challenges – the parable becomes a moral exhortation rather than a mystical ontology. This shift reflects a broader evolution in Hasidic conceptions of immanence, from metaphysical radicalism to ethical interiority.
4 Divine immanence and human capacity for choice
The interplay between divine immanence – the notion that God’s presence permeates all aspects of existence – and humanity’s capacity for free will presents a profound intellectual, religious, and moral challenge. How does belief in God’s all-encompassing presence shape the meaning of human existence and the ability to make autonomous choices?
The Baal Shem Tov taught that divinity is manifested through human actions, urging believers to recognize the manifestation of the divine in all human deeds. Yet he carefully avoided drawing deterministic or fatalistic conclusions from this doctrine. This perspective raises a critical question: how can one who affirms the reality of divine immanence remain committed to a normative ethical system and assume full responsibility for their actions?
The teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples suggest that the biblical assertion ‘the whole Earth is full of His glory’ (Isa 6:3) expresses the tangible presence of the divine within every individual. Interpretations of this idea vary widely. Moderate views maintain that divine presence endows individuals with vitality and the capacity for action, while the specific choices remain subject to human discretion. More radical perspectives, however, claim that the divine inheres in every human thought and deed, regardless of moral quality – whether virtuous or sinful.
A notable development of this concept – one that preserves its radical implications – appears in the Izbica–Lublin Hasidic tradition. Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica articulated a theology centred on two primary axes, one of which emphasizes the absolute sovereignty of God’s will. He famously stated, ‘[e]verything is in the hands of Heaven, including fear of Heaven’ (emphasis added), thereby positing divine will as the sole ontological reality. According to Leiner, God’s will is not only the source of all existence but also the cause of every human action: ‘The will of God, blessed be He, is present in all deeds from the creation of the world to its end; without His will, nothing occurs’ (Mei HaShiloach, I, Shemini, 105). Many scholars have argued that Leiner’s theology effectively negates human free will, reducing the notion of choice to a mere illusion.
Leiner grounds his view in the Talmudic dictum, ‘[e]verything is in the hands of Heaven except the fear of Heaven’ (b. Berakhot 33b, emphasis added), which traditionally affirms a balance between divine providence and human autonomy – forming the theological basis for the obligation to fulfill mitzvot (commandments). Leiner, however, reinterprets this principle as applying only to the superficial layer of daily consciousness, which he associates with phenomenal reality. On a deeper, noumenal level, he contends, even human decisions – including sinful acts – are ultimately guided by divine will.
This perspective has wide-ranging implications for religious life, as explored in the next section. If sins themselves are part of divine will, then the traditional doctrine of repentance – whereby individuals recognize their wrongdoing and resolve to avoid future transgressions –is fundamentally transformed. In Leiner’s view, repentance entails recognizing the immanence within the full spectrum of action and thereby restoring each deed to its divine source. As a result, sin lacks independent ontological status, and individuals are called to accept all events as aligned with divine will. This radical theology challenges classical Jewish notions of repentance, which emphasize separation from sin and the moral imperative to overcome it.
These theological claims are not merely speculative but have direct and far-reaching consequences for daily religious life. The following section explores how the idea of divine immanence is enacted through concrete modes of Hasidic praxis.
5 ‘Acknowledge God in all your ways’ – existential implications
In Hasidic thought, the notion of divine immanence is not confined to metaphysical theory; rather, it manifests in the totality of lived experience. The verse ‘[a]cknowledge Him (da’ehu) in all your ways’ (Prov 3:6) is read by Hasidic thinkers as a theological and existential imperative: to serve God through the mundane. This orientation, known as avodah begashmiyut, calls for engaging the material world not with detachment, but with sanctifying intention.
In contrast to classical Halakhic frameworks, which tend to delineate clear boundaries between sacred and profane, permitted and forbidden, Hasidism challenges this dichotomy. It redefines religiosity as a holistic state of consciousness, whereby even the most ordinary human actions – manual labour, telling stories about mundane events, singing and dancing, eating and drinking – can become vessels for divine service. The distinction between religious observance and daily living is thus blurred, or even erased, in favour of a unified spiritual posture. In this view, the goal is to orient every action – however mundane – towards God, infusing even the profane with intentionality for the sake of Heaven (leshem shamayim).
While the idea of sanctifying ordinary life is not unique to Hasidism – it has roots in earlier Rabbinic and ethical traditions – the Hasidic movement gave it unprecedented centrality and emotional resonance. This path was no longer reserved for mystics or ascetics, but extended to all Jews, regardless of background or education. Hasidic teachings insist that holiness is not located in withdrawal from the world, but in immersion within it – with the proper awareness.
Still, this vision carries with it a tension. While Hasidism democratizes spiritual practice, it also recognizes the risk of spiritual complacency. Without deep awareness of God’s immanence, worldly activity risks losing its sanctifying potential. Accordingly, some Hasidic sources limit the full application of avodah begashmiyut to individuals of exceptional spiritual clarity, for whom even mundane acts are transparently divine.
Awareness of divine immanence is often presented as a prerequisite for authentic avodah begashmiyut. As R. Dov Baer the Maggid of Mezeritch writes:
The verse says, ‘God is in heaven and you are on earth, therefore let your words be few’ (Ecclesiastes 5:1). It is known that the ‘four worlds’ are: the root of thought, thought itself, voice, and speech. And it is known that the Blessed One surrounds all worlds and fills all worlds; no place is devoid of His presence. When one believes this, then one can speak all words, even secular words unrelated to Torah, for they too belong to the world of speech [...]. But those who disregard this, and think that God is up in heaven while they are on Earth – such people are not permitted to speak many words, because they are unable to elevate or restore them [...]. This, then, is the meaning of the verse: For those who believe God is [only] in heaven, their words should be few. (Maggid Devarav le-Ya’akov, section 141, 247)
This passage centres on the permissibility of speech: is it the content of speech that determines its legitimacy, or the speaker’s consciousness and intention? The Maggid clearly advocates the latter. He presents a dual typology: those who live with the awareness that God is immanent in their reality can sanctify all speech – even mundane discourse – because it is uttered in the presence of the Divine. In contrast, those who conceive of God as wholly transcendent – ‘in heaven’ only – must severely limit their speech, restricting it to clearly sacred topics such as Torah and prayer. For them, secular speech is – at best – religiously neutral, lacking redemptive potential.
The Hasid, by contrast, is called upon to reveal God’s presence within the material world, at multiple levels and through varied means. Divine encounter is not limited to spiritual ecstasy or Halakhic observance but can occur through engagement with the everyday. Recognizing the divine element within the ‘lower’ strata of existence affirms and elevates the value of the mundane.
From this perspective, human life is no longer divided between sacred and profane – or even forbidden. Rather, everyday existence becomes a medium through which one’s relationship with God is continuously expressed. The divine call to the individual emerges in every situation. As a result, Hasidic life is lived in a state of constant religious attentiveness, for truly ‘no place is devoid of God’.
This radical position provoked sharp criticism, most notably from R. Chaim of Volozhin, the leading disciple of the Vilna Gaon. At the heart of his critique lay a concern that devotion to Torah and mitzvot would be supplanted by informal modes of spirituality. He feared the erosion of boundaries between the permissible and the forbidden, driven by the belief that one could fulfill the mandate to ‘acknowledge God in all your ways’ even in morally or halakhically ambiguous contexts.
6 Two foundational theological concepts – two interpretations of Hasidism
Once the connection between theological consciousness and religious practice is acknowledged, it follows that the former necessarily shapes the latter. As previously noted, Hasidic teachings on divine immanence contain two seemingly contradictory claims: (1) immanence means that everything conceals divine sparks that must be elevated; (2) immanence means that everything is, of itself, divine. These distinct theological premises yield divergent modes of religious practice. Put differently, the way one interprets the imperative to ‘acknowledge Him in all your ways’ depends on a given Hasidic thinker’s underlying conception of the divine presence.
We can describe these two models typologically.
6.1 ‘The whole Earth is full of his glory’ (melo kol ha-aretz kevodo)
The idea that divinity pervades all of reality equally serves to undermine normative distinctions between the forbidden and the permitted. Once ‘everything is God’, the uniqueness of religious commandments diminishes, and religiosity becomes a matter not of prescribed action but of inner consciousness. Accordingly, no essential distinction remains between the performance of mitzvot and other activities; all actions – commanded or otherwise – must be performed in the spirit of divine awareness. This mode of practice may ultimately lead the religious subject to violate the commandments, not out of rebellion but as an expression of deeper fidelity to God.
This is not antinomianism, but rather anomie – a suspension of the nomos. While antinomianism maintains a dialectical relation to the Law, here the Law is not denied but bracketed: it ceases to function as a relevant category in specific situations. (The term ‘anomie’, borrowed from sociology, denotes a breakdown of normative order; in this context, it describes a state in which Halakhic norms momentarily lose their binding force in the face of immediate divine demand.) The individual, responding to what Martin Buber (2004: 14) called ‘the Divine call to man’, may find that religious law distracts from the immediate demand of the divine will. The theological basis for this approach lies in the assertion that God’s will is not identical with Halakhah as traditionally interpreted. What God wills for a particular individual at a given moment may not coincide with the eternal, collective commandments of the Torah. Thus, religious behaviour may occur entirely outside the Halakhic framework.
This position exemplifies what might be called religious radicalism, that is, a form of religiosity that does not treat canonical texts or tradition as the sole expression of the divine address. Once the divine call is directed to the subject, tradition is bypassed, and the individual enters a direct, personal relationship with God. Thus, the imperative with which the biblical verse ends – ‘[…] violate your Torah’ (heferu toratekha) – is an immanent derivative of that individual’s desire to ‘act for God’ (et la‘asot la-shem), as the first part of the verse attests (Ps 119: 126). That is, the desire to ‘act for the Lord’ may ultimately entail the violation of Torah – not in a sinful sense, but as an existential necessity. Such actions may, in fact, be fully in line with Halakhah; but their alignment with the Law is accidental, not intentional.
In Hasidic tradition, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Izbica, author of Mei HaShiloach (Living Waters), articulates this radical position with clarity. His formulation – ‘everything is in the hands of Heaven’ – can be read as a powerful reinterpretation of the Baal Shem Tov’s doctrine of immanence. That early Hasidic teaching sought to overcome the perceived distance between the human and the Divine; in the Parable of the Palace, the son and the king are always already united, and the separation is illusory. For Rabbi Mordechai Yosef, the mystical experience becomes existential: true religiosity lies in discerning and fulfilling the divine will within. Deep desire is itself a manifestation of the divine within the individual; the unconscious serves as the locus of divine revelation, where God’s will emerges as inner, often pre-reflective desire. In this view, the individual’s authentic will is not merely psychological but a medium through which God’s will is expressed.
In his terms, the divine will and human will are not two, but one. Simply put, what one authentically desires is what God desires one to desire. Religious labour thus consists in attaining the awareness (whether in real time or retrospectively, as a form of Teshuva) that this unity of will is already in place. (For an extended discussion of Rabbi Mordechai Yosef’s theology and its implications, see section 4 above.)
Throughout Mei HaShiloach, Rabbi Mordechai Yosef typologically contrasts the biblical figures of Yosef (Joseph) and Yehuda (Judah). Yosef represents an institutional religiosity rooted in Halakhic observance. Yehuda, by contrast, embodies a radically individualized piety:
This is the root-source of Yehuda’s life: to look to God in each and every circumstance, never to act by rote. Even if yesterday, he acted in a certain way, today he does not trust his own judgement to do the same again; rather, God must enlighten him anew as to His will. Thus, he may sometimes be compelled to act in violation of the law (Halakhah), as the verse says: ‘It is time to act for the Lord; nullify your Torah!’ (Ps 119:126). (Mei HaShiloach I, Va'yeshev, 47–48)
Halakhah addresses the religious subject as a member of a collective, issuing fixed and continuous normative demands. In contrast, the call to ‘act for the Lord’ constitutes a subjective imperative that arises in the immediacy of the present. It marks a moment of individuation, the emergence of ‘Yehuda’ as a singular subject whom God addresses directly. This model destabilizes normative religious dichotomies: sacred/profane, permitted/forbidden, holy/secular. Avodah begashmiyut – divine service in material reality – is not merely permitted but constitutes the highest religious ideal. As argued above, such Hasidic religiosity subverts all normative structures – and perhaps it is no coincidence that Martin Buber, who read Hasidism in precisely this way, saw in it not only a vision for the renewal of Jewish religiosity but also a spiritual alternative for modern Western culture at large.
6.2 ‘Raising the sparks’
This second concept preserves the hierarchical distinction between sacred and profane. Here, avodah begashmiyut complements – but does not displace – conventional Halakhic practice. On one level, divine service remains embedded in the binary of Torah commandments (positive and negative, in the sense of the binary phrasing ‘you shall’ and ‘you shall not’). On another, it expands to include the entire world, seen as suffused with dispersed ‘sparks’ of holiness. Every object or phenomenon exists by virtue of the divine spark within it; the task of the human being is to redeem and elevate these sparks, returning them to their divine source.
This redemptive labour may, in rare cases, extend even to actions that are halakhically forbidden. In such situations, the tradition speaks of aveirah lishmah – a transgression committed ‘for the sake of Heaven’. The classic Rabbinic source is the story of Jael, who seduced and killed the Canaanite general Sisera (Judg 4). The Talmud (Nazir 23b) interprets Jael’s act of seduction as a sin performed for the higher good of delivering Israel from its enemy. Later commentators and Halakhic authorities developed strict criteria to regulate when and by whom such transgressions might be justified.
Within the Izbica–Lublin school of Hasidism, the concept of sin retains its normative weight. Even if a transgression is performed for the sake of Heaven, it still demands atonement. This perspective is articulated most clearly by Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin, who was both a leading disciple of Rabbi Mordechai Yosef and an original theological thinker in his own right. His writings are especially significant for our discussion not only because of his deep engagement with his teacher’s ideas, but also because he offers one of the most developed Hasidic treatments of the concept of aveirah lishmah.
Whereas Rabbi Mordechai Yosef favours the more radical expression, ‘it is time to act for the Lord [nullify the Torah]’, Rabbi Zadok consistently uses the more traditional term aveirah lishmah – and insists that even such a sin, though divinely inspired, requires repentance.
In this model, the effort to ‘raise the sparks’ reflects an ongoing dialectic: mundane reality is not sanctified as such but is treated as a vehicle for encountering the divine. Material life must be purified to reveal its inner spark. Avodah begashmiyut thus implies not a full embrace of the secular but its spiritual transformation through disciplined religious practice. The mundane becomes a site of devotion, yet only insofar as it is reoriented towards the divine.
Paradoxically, then, even as Hasidism expands the scope of religious life, it ultimately reaffirms the enduring tension between the sacred and the mundane.
7 Hasidic theology in historical perspective
From a historical vantage point, Hasidism emerged as an avant-garde movement in the eighteenth century that catalysed a profound religious renewal, eliciting both criticism and opposition. Over time, however, it transitioned from a revolutionary force to an integral component of the religious establishment. Within approximately a century of its inception, the writings of prominent Hasidic masters reveal a significant shift: the concept of divine immanence, which had been a central preoccupation of early Hasidic thought, particularly in its practical applications, began to lose its original potency. Revisiting the foundational concepts introduced above (section 1), Hasidism initially embraced the belief that ‘the Earth is filled with His glory’. This perspective later evolved into an emphasis on ‘raising the sparks’, a task increasingly reserved for virtuous individuals, notably the Hasidic leaders themselves.
Consequently, these concepts, including ‘raising the sparks’, gradually assumed a nostalgic character, serving as symbols rather than active principles. The notion of divine immanence, at its height a cornerstone of Hasidic renewal, became primarily a historical marker of the movement’s origins rather than a dynamic force in its religious life. Alternatively, these ideas served as sources of inspiration in times of crisis and as catalysts for religious devotion. As with any process of institutionalization, the revolutionary fervour of Hasidism waned; routine supplanted novelty, tempering the transformative energy and innovation that characterized the teachings and practices of the early Hasidic masters.
Nevertheless, exceptions to this trajectory exist. The revolutionary theology of the Izbica–Lublin School, which emerged in the mid- to late nineteenth century, as elaborated in this article, stands as a notable counterpoint.
Despite this historical trajectory, contemporary developments indicate a renewed interest in Hasidic theology. In recent years, the rise of neo-Hasidism, coupled with a renewed engagement with original Hasidic texts, suggests a potential revival of the movement’s capacity for religious renewal. This contemporary resurgence offers a religiosity that addresses the spiritual aspirations of the individual while advocating a holistic approach that transcends formalistic or normative frameworks.
In this way, the evolving interpretations of divine immanence – from early radicalism to more measured and institutionalized forms – mirror Hasidism’s broader historical arc: from revolutionary renewal to enduring tradition.