Parshat Shemini - Korban Rosh Chodesh: Finding Hope in the Diminished Moon

 BH

Recap of the Creation of the Sun and the Moon

Parshat Shemini follows Pesach and brings with it a deep and practical teaching. To understand this week’s insight, we need to recap the story at the beginning of the Torah in Parshat Bereshit. The Torah teaches that Hashem created the “two great lights,” meaning the sun and the moon were originally equal in size and brightness. Yet, shortly after, the Torah says that Hashem made the “greater light” to rule the day and the “lesser light” to rule the night. What happened?

Rashi, based on the sages, explains that the moon complained to Hashem: “It is impossible for two kings to use one crown.” In response, Hashem said, “You’re right. Diminish yourself.” The Midrash describes a back-and-forth—Hashem attempts to appease the moon by giving it the stars, by linking Jewish holidays to the lunar calendar, by associating the names of tzaddikim with humility and smallness. Yet the moon is still unsatisfied. Finally, Hashem says, “The Jews will bring a sacrifice in the future to atone for My ‘sin’ of diminishing the moon.” This is the famous Rosh Chodesh offering—the “Chatat Lashem,” a sin offering for Hashem.

Reb Noson’s Explanation: Growth Through Setbacks

Reb Noson, based on Likutey Moharan lesson 24, explores the meaning behind this story. He explains that the ultimate secret of spiritual growth—receiving the “infinite light” of Hashem—depends on a process of “reaching and not reaching,” or “running and returning.” If a person only advances without any pushback or delay, the light and inspiration are overwhelming; there is no space to internalize and make them his own. Instead, a person would lose his own existence in the intensity of divine revelation.

So Hashem created the world with an inbuilt mechanism: after every advance comes a setback. This “bounce back” or delay is not a punishment or a flaw, but a necessary part of creating vessels for the light. The moon’s diminishing represents this retreat—a necessary step so the light can be received properly. The sun symbolizes advancing, shining light and inspiration; the moon, by diminishing, represents the humility and patience to accept setbacks and integrate the light.

The Paradox of the Sin Offering for Hashem

But if this system of advance and retreat is necessary for healthy spiritual growth, why does Hashem refer to it as a “sin” that needs atonement? Why create the sun and the moon as equals, only to then diminish the moon and require a sin offering every Rosh Chodesh? If setbacks are so essential, why the sense of regret?

The Korban Rosh Chodesh is every Jew’s invitation: No matter how great the darkness, no matter how many times we fall, the path back remains open through this korban and the light of the tzaddikim

The fundamental answer to the paradox of the moon’s diminishment is that it’s not something fully logical. If everything made sense, there wouldn’t be any diminishment. The whole secret here is that there are aspects of reality and God’s ways that remain unanswered, hidden, and impossible for human logic to fully grasp. This is the essence of diminished perception itself: not everything can or should be explained.

Rebbe Nachman, in Likutey Moharan II:1, calls Rosh Chodesh an incredible gift. This is especially significant because Rosh Hashanah, the Day of Judgment, is also Rosh Chodesh. On that day, when the world stands before Hashem’s judgment, we know our chances are slim—especially in a generation so confused and dark, as Rebbe Nachman describes it, “our faces darker than the bottom of a pot.” How can anyone stand in judgment? The answer is: through Rosh Chodesh.

The Opening of Rosh Chodesh—A Sin Offering for Hashem

On Rosh Chodesh, the Jewish people offer a sin offering not for themselves, but for Hashem—“Chatat Lashem”—to atone for Hashem’s “sin” in diminishing the moon. What does this have to do with us? Rebbe Nachman, quoting the Zohar, explains that the cycle of the moon—waxing and waning—reflects our own spiritual journey. When the moon is full, there is clarity and light; as it diminishes, so does our perception and understanding. The Jewish people, tied to the moon, are meant to illuminate the world with Hashem’s light. But when the moon is diminished, so is our ability to perceive, to know, and to serve Hashem without falling.

Here comes a bold teaching: Rebbe Nachman, and Reb Noson in his prayers (Likutey Moharan and Likutey Tefilot II:1), write that on Rosh Hashanah, our one opening, our one plea, is that since Rosh Hashanah is also Rosh Chodesh, we offer a sin offering for Hashem—for diminishing the moon. And since all the darkness and stumbling comes from this diminishment, it’s as if we say to Hashem, “You are responsible for my falling, for my sins. You diminished the moon; You created the darkness and confusion that allows for mistakes and frustration and failure.” This is the opening—the point of appeal on the Day of Judgment.

Setbacks as Part of the Divine Plan—Nadav and Avihu

Despite the pain and confusion, this system of “running and returning”—of going forward and then back—is the way Hashem designed the world. Reb Noson connects this concept to the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, who died at the dedication of the Mishkan. Moshe tells Aaron, quoting Hashem’s words, “I will be sanctified through those who are closest to Me.” Rashi explains that Moshe thought the sanctification would come through either himself or Aaron, but in the end, it was Nadav and Avihu.

Nadav and Avihu: The Dangers of Pure Ascent Without Restraint

The key distinction between Nadav and Avihu and Moshe and Aaron is their approach to divine service. Nadav and Avihu embodied the sun—unceasing light and unrestrained ascent. Their spiritual drive was all “running,” never “returning.” As a result, they acted without restraint — offering the Ketoret in the Holy of Holies at the wrong time, entering a domain reserved only for the Kohen Gadol on Yom Kippur. The Torah emphasizes their lack of balance: they were not married, they ruled halacha in front of Moshe—signs of lacking the quality of the moon, the power of diminishment, humility, and restraint. Their souls, consumed by divine fire, were removed from their bodies, which remained intact—burnt not by physical fire but by their inability to integrate the lesson of setback and limitation.

The Inauguration and Its Unique Sacrifices

This context leads us back to the historic events described in Parshat Shemini. It was Rosh Chodesh Nisan—the day the Mishkan was inaugurated. For eight days, Moshe erected and dismantled the Tabernacle; on the eighth day (Rosh Chodesh Nisan), it remained standing, and Aaron and his sons began their avodah. But amidst the excitement and divine revelation—the descent of fire from heaven—tragedy struck with the death of Nadav and Avihu. Still, the service and festivity of the day could not stop. The Torah lists three distinct Musaf sacrifices: the Rosh Chodesh Musaf offering, the special Musaf Shlamim of the inauguration (Miluim), and the unique Musaf of Nachshon ben Aminadav, the first of the 12 tribal leaders to bring his offering.

Two of these offerings—the Miluim and Nachshon’s Musaf offering — were once-in-history events. The Rosh Chodesh Musaf, however, was to be repeated every month for all generations. Despite the tragedy, Moshe instructed Aaron and his sons to continue the service and eat from the special korbanot, since the halacha permitted (and in this unique historical moment, required) their participation, even in a state of aninut (pre-burial mourning).

The Mysterious Burning of the Rosh Chodesh Offering

Here the Torah uses an unusual phrase—darosh darash—to describe Moshe’s inquiry regarding the goat sin-offering of Rosh Chodesh. The double expression highlights Moshe’s intense investigation: Why was the sacrifice burnt instead of eaten? Normally, if the blood was applied incorrectly in the sanctuary, the sacrifice was burned. But this was not the case. So why did the sons of Aaron burn the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering and refrain from eating it?

Moshe’s double inquiry reflects his confusion and his search for clarity — he pressed for an answer both regarding the burning and the abstention from eating.

The Halachic Drama: Eating the Rosh Chodesh Offering in Mourning

After the tragedy of Nadav and Avihu, Moshe turns to Aaron’s surviving sons, Elazar and Itamar, demanding to know why they burned the Musaf sin-offering of Rosh Chodesh rather than eating it. Moshe argues that their mourning status should not prevent them from eating—since a Kohen Gadol, even in aninut (pre-burial mourning), is commanded to continue the Temple service.

Elazar and Itamar remain silent, deferring to both their father Aaron and their teacher Moshe. Aaron himself then answers: yes, the Kohen Gadol serves while mourning, but to eat the sacrifice—an act associated with joy and wholeness—seems inappropriate in his current state, having just lost two sons. This, Aaron reasons, cannot be Hashem’s will. Remarkably, Moshe concedes—vayishma Moshe, vayitav b’einav—“Moshe heard, and it was good in his eyes.” Moshe admits to never having heard this halacha, or, as the Gemara suggests, he remembers being taught but had temporarily forgotten.

Darosh Darash: The Heart of the Torah and Its Message

At the center of this episode stands a striking Torah anomaly: the double expression darosh darash (“inquired, did he inquire”). Every standard edition of Chumash notes that this phrase marks the exact midpoint in words of the entire Torah—a literary and spiritual turning point. The message? The heart of Torah is found in honest inquiry, wrestling with questions, setbacks, and unresolved dilemmas.

Moreover, this entire halacha—that a mourner may not eat the Rosh Chodesh sin-offering or any other sacrifice — is derived specifically from the unique Korban of Rosh Chodesh. Why? Because Rosh Chodesh, the renewal of the moon, symbolizes the Jewish people’s own cycles of diminishment and renewal, darkness and return.

The Power of Return: No Such Thing as Despair

The episode culminates in a radical idea, revealed only through the tradition of outstanding tzaddikim: there is no such thing as despair, no matter how low one has fallen or how many times the Torah has been transgressed. The Korban Rosh Chodesh, a sin-offering “for Hashem,” provides every Jew a way back, no matter the circumstances. It’s as if one could say, “Hashem, You caused me to sin,” and yet, through this mechanism, be welcomed back. This concept—otherwise unimaginable—becomes the heart of teshuvah and Jewish hope.

Korban Rosh Chodesh: The Doorway of Hope for Every Jew

The ultimate message of the Korban Rosh Chodesh, the special sin offering brought because Hashem diminished the moon, is profound and empowering. On one hand, diminishment is necessary for perception and spiritual growth; on the other hand, it causes confusion, darkness, and stumbling in life. In this paradox lies the secret of Jewish hope. We’re placed in a world where the setbacks are not just accidents, but part of the Divine plan—a plan that even allows us to turn to Hashem and say, “I fell because You set the stage this way. The darkness is Yours, and so is my return.”

This may sound audacious, but it’s the core teaching of Rosh Chodesh and its korban. By highlighting the episode where even Moshe Rabbeinu forgot the halacha and was angered, the Torah hints that sometimes even the greatest leaders must experience diminishment—making space for future true tzaddikim to reveal new openings for teshuvah and hope. The Torah itself marks this point with darosh darash, whose numerical value (504) hints at the spiritual light of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai and Rebbe Nachman ben Simcha (both names equal 504 with the 3 words), two outstanding tzaddikim who promised hope and return for even the lowest souls.

The Korban Rosh Chodesh is every Jew’s invitation: “Hashem, You diminished the moon, and from there my struggles began. But that is my very opening to return.” No matter how great the darkness, no matter how many times we fall, the path back remains open through this korban and the light of the tzaddikim. Especially in this month of Iyar, Rabbi Shimon’s month, we are reminded to seek out and connect to these tzaddikim, to activate the light of renewal and return.

May we have the courage and humility to use this Divine opening, to speak honestly before Hashem, to never give up, and to embrace even the setbacks as part of our journey home. 

This article also appears on the BRI breslov.org website: https://breslov.org/korban-rosh-chodesh-finding-hope-in-the-diminished-moon/

For a video presentation of this article: https://youtu.be/aI5N_eM692o

Help support Breslov Therapy: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy

This class is based on Likutey Moharan lesson 24. For more on this lesson: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy_lesson_24

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Shabbat Shalom.

Meir Elkabas

Parshat Tzav - The Uniqueness of Giving Thanks to Hashem

 BH

This week’s Parsha, Tzav, falls on Erev Pesach, connecting two powerful energies: the daily Avodah in the Beit HaMikdash, and the renewal of redemption through the Exodus.

As we saw last week, the Torah lists five types of Mincha offerings that only a poor person would bring. Reb Noson, based on Rebbe Nachman’s teachings in Likutey Moharan 24, reveals that these five correspond to five pathways of accessing joy—each one adapted to different life situations. Of these, the fourth pathway—Hoda’ah, giving thanks—is the most developed form of joy. This week’s Parsha brings that idea to the forefront.

The Five Pathways to Joy

Rebbe Nachman teaches that true joy can be accessed in five primary ways:

1. Miley d’Shtuta – Lightness and Humor: Even fake joy is a beginning. Joking, laughter, and acting silly can eventually lead a person to real happiness.
2. Music and Dance: Moving the body—clapping hands, listening to music, and dancing—stirs the heart and uplifts the spirit.
3. Finding the Good Points: Looking within to find even the smallest good can bring a spark of joy to someone feeling lost or broken.
4. Giving Thanks – Hoda’ah: Recognizing and expressing gratitude for the good that is already present.
5. Looking to the Future: When the present feels too dark, we can borrow joy from the knowledge that in the end, everything will be made right.

Of these five, Hoda’ah stands out. It’s not reaching for happiness or fabricating it—it’s a response to real kindness. When a person feels genuine gratitude to Hashem, the joy is stable, lasting, and transformative.

Korban Todah – When Gratitude Becomes an Offering

The Korban Todah—the Thanksgiving Offering—expresses this elevated level of simcha. The Torah specifies that four types of people are obligated to bring this offering: someone who was imprisoned, someone who suffered serious illness, someone who traveled overseas, and someone who crossed through a desert. These are the people who also recite Birkat HaGomel today. The acronym of the word “Chayim” (chet-yud-yud-mem) hints to these four:

• Chet – Chavush (imprisoned)
• Yud – Yisurim (afflicted with suffering or illness)
• Yud – Yam (sea travelers)
• Mem – Midbar (desert travelers)

Reb Noson, in Likutey Halachot (Birkat Hoda’ah 6), explains that these categories also represent spiritual states:

• Feeling trapped and unable to serve Hashem—like being imprisoned.
• Being too weak or confused to function—like sickness.
• Experiencing great spiritual highs followed by intense crashes—like a stormy sea.
• Feeling lost, like wandering in a spiritual desert with no direction.

When someone is saved from these inner states—when clarity, energy, and strength return—they’re not just relieved. They’re thankful. That gratitude is so powerful that the Torah says it must be expressed with a Korban Todah.

The Four Breads of the Todah

Unlike other offerings, the Korban Todah comes with a unique accompaniment: forty loaves of bread. Thirty are made from matzah, and ten are chametz. The Torah specifies three matzah types:

• Chalot Matzot Belulot B’Shemen – matzah loaves kneaded with oil
• Rekikei Matzot Meshuchim B’Shemen – flat matzot smeared generously with oil
• Solet Murbechet Chalot Belulot B’Shemen – soft, boiled dough similar to a bagel, made with oil

And finally:

• Lechem Chametz – leavened bread, baked normally

These accompany the animal offering of the Korban Todah. While two of these breads echo offerings from last week’s Minchat Ani (the pauper’s meal offering), two are entirely unique to the Todah. This reflects how giving thanks—hoda’ah—is its own level of spiritual service, born out of real joy.

There is something beyond the struggle. There is light at the end of the exile.

The Pinnacle of Simcha: Giving Thanks

Reb Noson explains that the highest expression of joy is hoda’ah—thanksgiving. Even the joy found in performing mitzvot is meant to lead to a heart of gratitude. Whether one reaches joy through dancing, finding good points, joking, or envisioning future redemption, all of it funnels into giving thanks to Hashem. It is the culmination of joy, not just its source.

In fact, Reb Noson writes in Likutey Halachot that if Jews would give thanks properly, Mashiach would have already come. Such is the power of gratitude—it transforms, uplifts, and opens the gates of redemption.

Each of the four breads corresponds to a stage in the process of spiritual growth and joyful avodah. The first two—chalot matzot and rekikim—symbolize the early stages of serving Hashem with joy, elevating the sparks of holiness through thanks and simcha. From this comes bracha—blessing—and eventually the gift of da’at, inner awareness.

Yet da’at alone is not enough. It must be fused with emunah, faith. Only when intellect and faith work together can a person access what Rebbe Nachman calls the Keter—the crown, the interface between finite man and infinite light.

Boiling and Waiting – Murbechet and Chametz

Murbechet, the third matzah type, symbolizes the boiling, active mind—always thinking, always turning. Rebbe Nachman teaches that even in sleep, the mind is still processing. This boiling energy reflects a person’s inner spiritual work, striving with thoughts of Torah and closeness to Hashem.

But then comes chametz—the leavened bread. What creates chametz? Waiting. The dough sits, the yeast rises, and the bread puffs up. In Rebbe Nachman’s teachings, waiting—shehiya—is the very definition of the Keter. When a person rises too quickly or comes close to the infinite, the Keter pushes back. It places a boundary, a wall, and demands patience.

This waiting is not a punishment—it’s a purification. It forces the person to develop stronger vessels to contain the light he longs for. The Keter stops him so that he can deepen his emunah and prepare to receive something beyond his current capacity. The chametz in the Korban Todah reflects this ultimate level of simcha—the joy found in accepting delays, embracing waiting, and allowing Hashem’s light to unfold in its time.

Keter and Chametz – The Waiting That Elevates

Rebbe Nachman reveals a profound connection between Keter—the highest spiritual crown—and the concept of waiting. He draws this from a verse in Iyov (Job), where Elihu says, “Katar li ze’er v’achaveka”—“Wait for me a little, and I will show you more wisdom.” The word Katar, in Aramaic, means to wait—and shares a root with Keter, crown.

In this light, Rebbe Nachman teaches that the crown—the Keter—is specifically this moment of being held back, being forced to wait. When a person has built momentum and is moving toward holiness and spiritual light, the Keter may push him back. But this is not a rejection. It is a divine design: a spiritual delay that builds stronger vessels, deeper longing, and more refined faith.

And what does this delay allow? A glimpse of the infinite light—not directly, but in a hidden, subconscious way. A person may not perceive the light outright, but its influence strengthens him. Just a glimmer—imprinted in the soul—is enough to help him continue. 

This, says Reb Noson, is the power of the Korban Todah—thanksgiving. It is the ultimate joy. It is the gateway to the infinite.

Joy Leads to Thanks, Thanks Leads to Keter

Of the five pathways to joy that Rebbe Nachman outlines—jokes, dancing, good points, future hope, and thanks—it is thanks that is the culmination. The Korban Todah, representing this level of joy, is the portal to the Keter. Thanksgiving leads to blessing, to clarity, and finally, to this boundary known as the Keter. And it is through giving thanks that a person is elevated, even toward the infinite light.

Pesach: Jumping the Keter

Amazingly, all of this aligns with Pesach. On Pesach, chametz is completely forbidden. The process of making chametz—waiting for the dough to rise—is precisely the symbol of Keter. But on the night of the Seder, Hashem overrides the natural order. There is no waiting. There is no barrier. We leap over it. Pesach—from the word pasach, to skip—means Hashem lets us jump straight into the light.

Why? Because we’re still in Egypt. We’re still in bondage, constriction, and depression. If Hashem would demand patience now, if He told us to wait and go through the process—we might collapse. We’d give up. So instead, He gives us a gift. On the night of Pesach, every Jew—no matter how far, no matter how broken—is given a taste of the infinite light.

The Arizal says that the light revealed on Seder night doesn’t shine at any other time of the year. It’s far beyond our level. And yet, Hashem gives it anyway—to lift us, to awaken us, to show us what’s possible. The four cups of wine, the matzah, the telling of the Haggadah story—all of it is a vessel for experiencing this burst of divine closeness. And even if we don’t perceive it consciously, our soul is ignited.

By morning, it fades. The light departs. But it leaves behind an impression strong enough to carry us forward. That taste gives us the motivation to climb upward from the darkness. It tells us: there is something beyond this struggle. There is light at the end of the exile.

Returning with Thanks

Through the Parshah of Tzav and the Korban Todah, we are reminded of the incredible spiritual power of gratitude. And through Pesach, we are given a yearly gift—a glimpse of the infinite light, even before we’re ready. May we learn to harness the strength of Hoda’ah, of giving thanks, in all its forms. And may we be zocheh to leap over all boundaries and come back to Hashem with full hearts.

This article also appears on the BRI breslov.org website: https://breslov.org/the-uniqueness-of-giving-thanks-to-hashem/ 

For a video presentation of this article: https://youtu.be/RF8hoG2MBww

Help support Breslov Therapy: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy

This class is based on Likutey Moharan lesson 24. For more on this lesson: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy_lesson_24

If you have been inspired by this class/lecture please share it with your friends. Thank you.

Follow us:
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Shabbat Shalom.

Meir Elkabas

Parshat Vayikra The 5 Expressions of the Poor Man's Joy

 BH

The Korban Mincha and the Power of Joyful Poverty

Parshat Vayikra opens with the theme of korban nedavah—voluntary offerings brought out of a desire to connect to Hashem. While the wealthy bring offerings of cattle and sheep and birds, the Torah then turns its attention to the korban mincha, the meal offering brought by the poor. Rashi emphasizes that Hashem delights in the mincha of a poor person as if he offered his very soul. But this raises a powerful question: if a person is poor, why is he bringing a nedavah at all? Shouldn’t he be saving every penny for essential needs?

The answer lies in the inner world of the giver. A poor person who nevertheless brings an offering is expressing a deep truth: “I’m struggling, but Hashem hasn’t abandoned me. I still have something to give.” This attitude reveals that he hasn’t allowed poverty to turn into bitterness. He still has simcha, joy, and from that joy, he gives whatever he can. That joy itself is the korban.

Five Offerings of the Poor—Five Levels of Simcha

The Torah lists five types of mincha offerings, and each one reflects a different level of how simcha can express itself even in poverty:

1. Solet – Fine flour offered before oil is added. This is the simplest offering, just the flour itself. It represents a baseline joy: I have little, but I give from what I have, even without embellishment.
2. Chalot – Matzot made from flour and oil mixed and baked. A step up: the poor person puts effort into preparing it, symbolizing joy that comes through simple, active engagement in mitzvot.
3. Rekikim – Baked with a small amount of oil and then pasted with more oil. Joy begins to “coat” one’s offering—it’s visible, spreading, palpable.
4. Ma’aseh Machvat – Fried in a shallow pan so the oil lifts the dough from below. This joy rises—it lifts the person above their situation, even in poverty. It shows that inner elevation is possible.
5. Marcheshet – Fried in a deep pan with lots of oil, where the pancake seems to crawl or bubble slowly as it cooks. This is joy that takes time to develop—slow, deep, transformative joy that only comes from enduring hardship with patience.

Each of these levels represents a way that the poor person, despite his material limitations, channels his ratzon—his deep yearning for Hashem—into action.

The Offering of the Soul

Why does Hashem value the poor man’s korban mincha so highly? Because it’s not just flour and oil—it’s his soul. When someone gives even when it’s hard, it means he’s not doing it out of comfort or abundance. He’s doing it from the depths of his being. The mincha isn’t just a donation—it’s a statement: “I still believe. I still want to give.”

In Likutey Moharan Lesson 24, Rebbe Nachman explains that this ratzon, this yearning in the face of setback, is the true vessel for the infinite light. The poor person doesn’t have much materially, but spiritually, he is creating the greatest vessel: a heart that yearns, that gives, that is sameach b’chelko—joyful in his portion, however small it seems. From that joy, he can reach the Keter itself.

Even a person with nothing can offer everything!

The Five Types of Joy in the Face of Lack

The Torah outlines five distinct types of meal offerings (menachot), each brought by someone unable to afford an animal sacrifice. Unlike the wealthier individual who brings one of a few animal options, the poor person is given a wide range of options—each one representing a different path toward joy. This detail hints at a deeper truth: a person who continues to give even when he has little is someone who has mastered inner joy. The poor man’s willingness to offer a korban reflects a joy and faith that transcends his lack.

Based on Rebbe Nachman’s teachings, Reb Noson identifies five powerful methods for attaining joy in any circumstance. Together, they form a practical framework for navigating life’s emotional and spiritual challenges—the “Fabulous Five” ways to access joy as taught in Likutey Moharan and expanded in Likutey Halachos (Hoda’ah #6). These five methods correspond to the five types of meal offerings:

1. 1. Solet – Joy from the Future
      The first meal offering is solet, plain fine flour offered before adding the oil. Since oil (shemen) in the Torah symbolizes joy—“shemen u’ketoret yesamach lev” (oil and incense gladden the heart – Proverbs)—the absence of oil in the solet offering represents a situation where simcha is inaccessible in the present. The person feels too stuck, too down, too broken to even begin engaging with happiness.
      Reb Noson teaches that in such cases, the way forward is to “borrow simcha from the future.” Even when all seems dark, we hold on to the belief that eventually everything will be restored. Mashiach will come. The wicked will be judged. The righteous will be rewarded. The soul will be healed. If the future is filled with joy, why despair now? This perspective allows a person to bring that future light into the present, even if just as a flicker. It’s the kind of simcha that requires no current reason—just faith that Hashem will make it all right.
      This form of joy is for those in the lowest places—when no other tool works. No song, no gratitude, no self-encouragement. Only the unshakable belief that in the end, it will all be good.
   2. Chalot – Joy from Finding Your Good Points
      The chalot offering is flour mixed together with oil and then baked. This represents a person who is able to find joy from within. The oil—symbolic of simcha—is blended into the flour itself. Rebbe Nachman teaches that even when you’re low, there’s always something good within you. Finding those “nekudot tovot,” those tiny good points, and choosing to be happy with them, is a path out of sadness. Chalot reflects the joy of knowing “I still have some good in me.”
   3. Rekikim – Joy through Acting Happy
      The rekikim offering is baked and then pasted with oil on the outside. The joy isn’t internal yet—it’s applied externally. This corresponds to a person who can’t yet feel real simcha, but who fakes it—by telling jokes, acting silly, even if it feels fake. Rebbe Nachman calls this “mila d’shtuta”—acting with a bit of silliness in order to draw down true joy. The hope is that this pasted-on joy eventually seeps inward. Rekikim are the joy of pretending until it becomes real.
   4. Machavat – Joy from Giving Thanks
      In the machavat offering, oil burns beneath the flour in a shallow pan, lifting the offering upward. This represents the kind of joy that comes from recognizing the good and expressing gratitude. When a person sees clear kindness from Hashem—even amidst difficulty—they naturally feel uplifted. Reb Noson writes that the act of giving thanks (hoda’ah) elevates the soul. Gratitude is transformative—it helps a person rise from sadness into real closeness with Hashem.
   5. Marcheshet – Joy from Movement and Dancing
      The final offering, marcheshet, is cooked in a deep pan filled with oil. The abundance of oil causes the offering to “move” and “crawl” as it cooks. This corresponds to simcha through physical movement. Rebbe Nachman taught that dance and music awaken joy. When a person can’t think his way out of sadness, moving the body through dancing or clapping can shift his emotional state. It’s no coincidence that Breslover communities dance after Shacharit and Maariv daily. Marcheshet is the joy of activating movement to awaken the heart.

The Poor Person’s Path to Wealth

What emerges from these five korbanot is a powerful message: even a person with nothing can offer everything. Each type of meal offering reflects a different level of spiritual poverty—and a different pathway out through simcha. Whether through hope in the future, self-recognition, silly joy, thanksgiving, or movement, the poor person becomes a giver. And that act of giving, despite lack, is itself the first step out of poverty.

As Pirkei Avot points out, joy is the definition of wealth. A poor person who can offer with simcha is already rich in the eyes of Heaven. The five menachot represent five ways out of the chamber of spiritual constriction—five expressions of a Jew saying: “Even if I don’t have much, I still have enough to give, and I still want to be close to Hashem.”

May we all activate the five expressions of happiness and learn from the korban mincha the true joy of giving even when we feel we have nothing.

This article also appears on the BRI breslov.org website: https://breslov.org/the-5-expressions-of-the-poor-mans-joy/

For a video presentation of this article: https://youtu.be/fH0-fnKPXhk

Help support Breslov Therapy: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy

This class is based on Likutey Moharan lesson 24. For more on this lesson: linktr.ee/breslovtherapy_lesson_24

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Shabbat Shalom.

Meir Elkabas