If I were to ask you—what is your favorite mitzvah? Which one speaks to you, uplifts you, comes naturally?
And then, on the other hand, which mitzvah do you find most challenging?
Take a quiet moment with that question.
Over the years I have had the privilege of learning with young men and preparing them for their barmitzvah. I posed this very question to them. Most of my students responded that their favorite mitzvah is helping others. One of them chose wearing tzitzit.
And what about the most difficult?
Their answers were very relatable. The struggle is mostly with refraining from eating non-kosher food items that are readily available.
They know what Hashem asks of them, and mostly they do refrain from eating blatantly unkosher food, but they admitted that it requires effort.
There is something deeply moving about this natural tendency to want to help others.
Even at such a young age, the instinct to help another comes naturally and brings genuine joy.
One does not need to be a wealthy person or have vast fortunes in order to feel the beauty of giving. Even children, with limited abilities and resources, experience the profound satisfaction of helping someone else according to their level.
That desire to help others, I believe, never diminishes. But as life becomes more complex, so too does the implementation.
Part of my life’s calling is to help people strengthen their relationship with Hashem, including guiding them in the mitzvah of tzedakah.
The Torah speaks clearly: to give ten percent of one’s earnings, and even more beautifully, to aspire to twenty percent.
And yet, even those who feel deeply positive about giving can find it challenging when it comes to actual practice.
There is a debate about what is easier when it comes to tithing for tzedakah. Is it easier to give ten dollars out of a hundred, or one hundred thousand out of a million?
I cannot say with certainty—but my strong sense is that those who train early, when the amounts are small, carry that strength with them as the numbers grow.
Let us return to the question we began with—your favorite mitzvah, and your most difficult one.
This was not merely an exercise. Each of these categories holds a unique and powerful quality.
When you perform a mitzvah that you love, you do so with joy, enthusiasm, and often with impressive attention to detail. There is something deeply precious about serving Hashem in that way. Joyful mitzvot are radiant—they elevate both the person and the moment.
But what about the mitzvah that feels difficult?
In a way they are even more special.
For the only reason you do it is because it is the will of Hashem.
It may be that you do it (initially) without the same joy. You may even undergo some twinge of inner resistance, and yet, it precisely in that experience that something even deeper is revealed.
When a person fulfills a mitzvah that does not come naturally, solely because Hashem asked, that is a moment of profound connection.
A connection not based on inspiration or excitement, but on faithful commitment.
It is based not on passion and emotion, but on commitment and truth.
How do you know what is right?
To truly know what is objectively right, one must turn to the Torah, our eternal guide. And, when needed, seek the counsel of a teacher grounded in its wisdom.
When a person sets aside their own inclination and follows Hashem’s will not because it feels right, but because it is right, this creates a relationship with Hashem that is real, deep, and enduring.
As we approach Shavuot—the time when we recommit ourselves to the entire Torah—I would suggest something practical and personal.
Return to those two mitzvot you identified: the one you love, and the one you find challenging.
Strengthen your observance in them both.
Enhance the one you love—bring even more joy, more care, more beauty into its observance.
And with conviction and faith strengthen your commitment to the one that challenges you - because it is there that your deepest connection lies.
In doing so, you will hold both gifts: the joy of inspired mitzvot, and the depth of committed ones.
Wishing you a Chag Sameach and a Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Yosef Kantor