The struggle is the point

There’s a fascinating story in the Talmud about the moment Moses ascended to Heaven to receive the Torah on behalf of the Jewish people. When he arrived, the angels objected, saying to G-d: “Give Your Torah to us in the Heavens. Why give it to humans, who are bound by physicality and imperfection? The Torah, being spiritual, belongs with us, spiritual beings.”

G-d instructed Moses to respond. Moses turned to the angels and asked, “Did you go down to Egypt? The Ten Commandments begin with ‘I am the L-rd your G-d, who took you out of Egypt.’ Have you experienced slavery or redemption? Does it apply to you?”

He continued: “The Torah also says, ‘Honor your father and mother.’ Do you have parents? And what about the evil inclination—do you struggle with temptation and sin?” Moses’s argument silenced the angels.

At first glance, the angels’ request doesn’t seem entirely unreasonable. Surely, in their lofty, spiritual existence, they could study and fulfill the Torah in some form. But Moses made an even greater point: the Torah isn’t meant to remain in the realm of theory or spirituality. It’s designed for the messy, challenging, real world we live in.

The angels weren’t wrong in suggesting that Torah is spiritual—it absolutely is. But its ultimate purpose is practical. Judaism doesn’t live in abstract ideals; it’s meant to be lived out in the physical world. It’s about transforming mundane actions into opportunities for holiness.

The commandments are not just suggestions for a better life or ways to connect intellectually with G-d. They are actions that shape the world around us. Lighting Shabbat candles, giving tzedakah, putting on tefillin, or eating matzah on Passover—all these mitzvahs take spiritual ideas and bring them into physical reality.

If Judaism were just about meditating on lofty concepts, angels would indeed be better suited for it. But the Torah’s power lies in its ability to transform the physical and elevate it.

Moses’s question to the angels—“Do you have an evil inclination?”—emphasizes this further. In this world, we all face struggles. Whether it’s overcoming laziness, controlling anger, or resisting negative influences, these challenges are part of being human.

And yet, it’s precisely these struggles that make our service to G-d so meaningful. When we overcome our natural tendencies to do what is right, we demonstrate the true power of the Torah. It’s not just a guide for the easy and obvious—it’s a roadmap for the tough, gritty work of being human and making the world better.

Chassidic teachings provide a beautiful analogy: the greatness of a large torch is not in how brightly it shines nearby, but in its ability to cast light into the furthest, darkest corners. Similarly, the Torah’s greatness isn’t just in the spiritual enlightenment it brings to the higher realms, but in its ability to illuminate the darkness of our physical world.

When we bring holiness into our everyday lives—into how we treat others, how we work, and how we raise our families—we fulfill the Torah’s ultimate purpose. Judaism isn’t just about what we believe or feel; it’s about what we do. Through mitzvahs, we infuse our lives—and the world around us—with meaning and purpose.

So whether it’s putting up a mezuzah, making time for prayer, or simply helping a neighbor in need, remember: Judaism is here, in the real world, for you and me to live every day.