Are Our Intentions Pure?

Rabbi Reuven Elbaz began his shiur by telling a story, and something he said with such emotion really struck me:

"אבל זה לא הכנעה אמיתית."

"But that isn't genuine submission."

It wasn't just his words. It was the way he said them. His heartfelt "Ay, ay, ay" went straight to my heart. I could hear how deeply he felt those words.

I'm not sure exactly what he meant by them, but they made me think about something that I haven't been able to shake off.

How many times do we perform a mitzvah or a good deed, whether between man and Hashem or between man and his fellow, because we're commanded to, but somewhere deep inside, there's also a little desire for honor? For recognition? For reward, whether in this world or the World to Come? Perhaps there's even a part of us that does it out of fear of punishment.

And I wonder, is that genuine submission?

Sometimes, we serve Hashem because we're hoping for something in return. We do what we're supposed to do, but in the back of our minds, we're waiting for the reward. Maybe we're afraid of the consequences of doing otherwise. Maybe we're worried that the salvation we've been praying for will be withheld from us.

And sometimes, our decisions are influenced by what other people will say or think. 

Sometimes, we find ourselves being extra careful with a mitzvah when we know a rabbi is watching. Or maybe we make certain choices because we're worried about what the shadchan will say, how others will judge us, or whether they'll think highly of us.

And that makes me wonder: If nobody were watching, would I still make the same choice? Am I doing this because I truly want to make Hashem proud, or because I want to impress the people around me?

Am I seeking Hashem's approval, or everyone else's?

So ask yourself:  

What about Hashem? What about doing something simply because He asked me to?

What about doing it Leshem Shamayim — purely for Hashem's sake?

What a lesson there is here.

It's worth stopping for a moment and asking ourselves: Why am I doing what I'm doing?

Is it truly for Hashem? Or is there something I'm hoping to gain? Someone I'm trying to impress?

And perhaps the hardest question of all: If nobody ever knew about this mitzvah, if nobody praised me for it, if I didn't see any reward from it, would I still do it with the same love and devotion?

Of course, even a mitzvah performed with imperfect intentions has tremendous value. Chazal teach us that through serving Hashem shelolishmah, we can eventually come to serve Him lishmah — for His sake.

And what a comforting thought that is. Hashem doesn't expect us to reach perfection overnight. Even when our intentions are mixed, we can keep growing. We can keep trying.

But that doesn't mean we should stop examining our hearts.

Every mitzvah gives us another opportunity to grow. To put our ego aside. To let go of that little voice asking, "What will I get out of this?" and replace it with something so much more beautiful:

"Hashem, I'm doing this for You. Because I love You. Because I want to do Your will."

A little more sincerely.

A little more wholeheartedly.

A little more purely.

And maybe that's something we can begin working on today. Before our next mitzvah, to stop for just one moment and quietly remind ourselves: I'm doing this for Hashem.

Because genuine submission isn't only about what we do for Hashem. It's about the place in our hearts that those actions come from.

And perhaps the greatest gift we can give Hashem is to do something for Him without needing anything in return.