In 1974, a new apparition began to make its appearance in the streets of Manhattan. Even in that hubbub of crowd and clamor, this strange vehicle attracted attention. It was a standard van of the “U-Haul” or “Ryder” variety. It’s back door was rolled up, showing a cargo of one large wooden table, two wooden benches, and a dozen young men with beards and black hats. From a loudspeaker taped to its roof issued forth a medley of Chassidic songs played on high volume—that is, high enough to make itself heard above the din of a Manhattan street corner. Large posters taped to the sides of the moving van proclaimed: “MITZVAH TANK”, “Teffilin on board” and “Mitzvot On The Spot For People On The Go.”
Your soul is full of words, some inscribed, some engraved.
The words inscribed on your soul are like ink upon a page. They came to you from the outside, from life and its experiences. Eventually, they may fade and fall away, to be replaced by other words.
The words engraved are of the soul itself—just as engravings are no more than the form of the stone. When the soul finds quietude, those words are there. If the soul is in turmoil, or soiled by experience, those engravings need only be cleaned and uncovered. But they can never be torn away.
Those same words that are engraved in your soul are also engraved in a holy fire within the...
