He had been waiting for hours, and it was finally his turn in line. He could barely contain himself. He had so many questions for this wise sage, so many thoughts on his mind. As he sat down, he could actually feel the sage’s presence, his gentle, thoughtful eyes peering deeply into his own. Suddenly nervous, he managed to smile and stammer out a greeting. The sage sat in perfect silence and then, with deliberation and intent, said, “It is such a pleasure to meet you.”
Such simple words, and yet each one was spoken with such care and intention. All of his questions disappeared, replaced by a single one—one he had been struggling with for some time.
“If I may ask one question, how did you become so developed and deep in your thought? How did you reach a point where you weigh every word you speak?”
The sage smiled and paused for a moment. “I used to be very different. I spoke freely and gave little value or weight to my words. Then I was afflicted with a rare medical condition and completely lost my ability to speak. Every word felt like a dagger in my throat. As a result, I spoke very little. I began to value every word I uttered, debating long and hard whether it was absolutely necessary. Most days, I barely spoke.
“At first, I was miserable. I was trapped alone in my own head, with no one to speak to. I hated myself, and I hated my life. But soon I realized that my pain stemmed from the fact that I had never built a deep inner world. The reason I used to speak so much was to escape myself, to avoid dealing with who I was. I spoke so that I wouldn’t have to hear the emptiness inside my own mind.
“Once I could no longer speak, I was forced to confront that emptiness—and I couldn’t stand it. At that moment, I committed to change. I decided to fill my mind with thought, ideas, and purpose. I began feeding my mind, learning something new every single day. My throat eventually healed, but my vision only grew clearer. I began sharing the ideas I was learning, but I weighed my words carefully. My voice returned, but my appreciation for speech remained.
“Losing my ability to speak taught me the value of words and the responsibility that comes with the gift of speech. Now I am an old man. If there is one lesson I can share with you, it is this: harness the power of speech.”
Our Deepest Desire
As Shabbos enters, one can almost feel a wave of relaxation and reflection pass over the Jewish people. As human beings, we possess the unique ability to step outside of ourselves and view our lives from a third-person perspective. While our default experience of life is deeply personal and internal, there are moments when we are compelled to pause and reflect from the outside.
In those moments, we ask ourselves: “Who am I? Where am I going? Why am I living the life I’m living?”
Sometimes this reflection is inspired by an impactful speech or article. Other times it emerges from confronting mortality. For many, it comes simply by stepping away from the relentless pace of daily life. We have all experienced this at some point, and for most people, this reflection reinforces the same principles: life is infinitely valuable, we each possess tremendous potential, and we bear responsibility for using that potential wisely.
Yet alongside this awareness exists another powerful and puzzling human drive—one that runs directly counter to these truths. Despite understanding the value of time and the significance of our lives, we are deeply drawn to doing absolutely nothing. Observing society, or honestly evaluating ourselves, reveals that many people derive their greatest pleasure from idleness: endless chatting, mindless entertainment, meaningless content, or simply passing time.
What is the root of this desire? Why are we—human beings uniquely capable of extraordinary growth—so drawn to emptiness?
Wasting Words
The Torah commands, “Lo yachel d’varo”—“He shall not profane his words.” Rashi, citing Chazal, explains that this means one should not make his words chullin—profane or trivial. In other words, it is a command against speaking devarim beteilim, meaningless words.
At first glance, this seems puzzling. Why are meaningless words such a serious issue? Lies, defamation, and lashon hara are clearly destructive, but idle chatter appears harmless. Why, then, does the Torah single it out?
To understand this, we must first understand the nature of speech.
The Power of Speech
Speech is the process of taking abstract, ethereal thought—something beyond finite form—and giving it concrete expression. When we speak, we take our inner consciousness and project it into the physical world. This is the same mechanism through which Hashem created existence. He condensed the infinite into finite expression.
That is why the Torah describes creation as an act of speech: Hashem “spoke” the world into being. Speaking truth means translating transcendent, spiritual ideas into comprehensible words. Through speech, the infinite becomes tangible, and a profound union forms between spiritual essence and physical expression.
Our words therefore carry immense creative power. Used properly, they allow us to express our inner selves and spread ideas that ripple outward, creating real and lasting change. When words are wasted, that creative potential is squandered.
This principle applies equally to time. Time is the medium through which our infinite potential is transformed into reality. Wasting time converts the opportunity to build eternity into nothingness. A life of aimlessness is like riding a train with no destination—it expends energy without progress. Rest and rejuvenation are necessary, but a lifestyle devoid of purpose is destructive.
Wasting Words Revisited
Chazal compare wasting words to wasting seed. Just as seed contains the potential for life, words carry the potential to create spiritual reality. When someone has the ability to speak words of Torah, wisdom, encouragement, or inspiration, but instead chooses empty chatter, they profane the sacred tool of speech.
Teaching a word of Torah plants a seed in another person’s mind. That seed can grow, spread, and multiply endlessly. Wasting that seed eliminates not only the immediate opportunity, but all of its future potential.
Deep down, we sense this truth. Every time we waste our time or our words, we feel a subtle emptiness afterward, as though something valuable slipped away. Each day holds infinite opportunity—to grow, to refine our middos, to expand our understanding. When time is squandered, that moment is gone forever. But when time is invested wisely, it becomes an eternal part of who we are. This is a taste of Olam Haba—the enduring joy of what we have built.
The Desire for Nevuah and Avodah Zarah
To understand our attraction to emptiness, we must examine its historical roots. In earlier eras, humanity possessed a powerful drive for transcendence, expressed through nevuah and avodah zarah. Both represented the desire to rise beyond the finite self.
The drive for nevuah is the longing to reconnect with our source, Hashem Himself. Avodah zarah is the corrupted form of that same desire—seeking transcendence through false intermediaries. As the Rambam and Ramchal explain, idolaters mistakenly worshiped the forces that serve Hashem rather than Hashem Himself.
While the sin is grave, its root contains a genuine yearning for meaning and elevation. In the modern world, avodah zarah feels absurd and unrelatable. But that is because the world itself has changed. We no longer crave idolatry—and we no longer crave transcendence in the same way either.
Why this shift occurred, and how it connects to our attraction to emptiness, will be explored in the next article.
Rabbi Shmuel Reichman is an international speaker, bestselling author, business coach, the CEO of SMA, and a TED Talk Speaker. His bestselling book, The Journey to Your Ultimate Self, serves as an inspiring gateway into deeper Torah thought. After receiving his BA from Yeshiva University and Semicha from Yeshiva University's RIETS, Rabbi Reichman received a Masters degree from the University of Chicago. As part of his Masters Degree at the University of Chicago, Rabbi Reichman received an Ivy Plus Scholarship to Harvard where he spent a year studying as an Ivy Scholar. Additionally, he received a Masters degree in Educational Psychology from Azrieli Graduate School and a Masters degree in Jewish Thought from Yeshiva University's Bernard Revel Graduate School. As a business and leadership coach, Rabbi Reichman provides a unique 1-on-1 coaching program where he helps high-achievers, coaches, and business owners achieve their financial and personal goals. To learn more or to get in contact with Rabbi Reichman, visit his website: www.ShmuelReichman.com.