Excerpting: “Kotzk” by Yisroel Besser. Mesorah Publications Ltd. 2024. Hardcover. 389 pages. ISBN-13: 978-1422642382.

Even though Kotz was a place of seriousness, intensity, and introspection, the general atmosphere in the beis medrash in Kotzk was one of simchah: Chassidim tasted the joy of a life in which every mitzvah had meaning, delighted in the comfort of being surrounded by brothers, and experienced the exhilaration that comes with hard work.

When they were in the marketplace, the chassidim were exuberant and filled with good cheer, but in the stillness of the night, many of those same chassidim could be seen sitting on their own, faces lined with sorrow, tears in their eyes.

Simchah was not just viewed as a means to spiritual elevation, but as a goal on its own. The Rebbe would quote R’ Bunim, who understood the pasuk of “Ki v’simchah seitzei’u — For with joy shall you go forth” (Yeshayah 55:12), to be saying that with the middah of simchah, one can “go out,” climb out of any difficulty or challenge.

Sometimes, they danced. In Kotzk, dancing was seen not just as the expression of joy, but as a way to rise a bit hecher, to leave the earth behind for a moment, a symbol of man’s quest to touch the heavens.

Each evening, at the end of a long day of work and before a long night of learning, the members of the chaburah sat down for the evening meal. Those meals did not feature meat, or even fish, but the chassidim lining the worn tables found the bread and vegetables to be more pleasurable than any banquet or feast, and the mood was joyous.

Without simchah, the Rebbe taught, all the blessings in the world are meaningless, but to a happy person, a bit of bread and some shmaltz can be a feast.

The Rebbe would quote the words of the pasuk: “Vayava’u Marasah, velo yachlu lishtos mayim miMarah ki marim heim — They came to Marah, but they could not drink water from Marah because it was bitter” (Shemos 15:23), and explain it in a novel way. The people could not drink the water of Marah, ki marim heim — they themselves were bitter! Their own misery prevented them from being able to enjoy the simple pleasure that comes with a sip of refreshing water!

In Kotzk, the chassidim would speak with admiration about one particular chassid named R’ Mottel, in whom the middah of simchah was ingrained. Not only could he derive joy from the simplest meal, he could even find happiness in the meal of another!

R’ Mottel was impoverished, like most of the chaburah in Kotzk, and one Erev Shabbos, he could not find money with which to buy fish for Shabbos. R’ Mottel’s wife accepted this reality, but she felt bad for her husband, knowing how much the honor of Shabbos meant to him.

R’ Mottel came home from shul on Leil Shabbos, his spirits as high as on every other Friday night, and he recited Kiddush with enthusiasm. They sat down for the seudah, which consisted primarily of challah.

Suddenly, R’ Mottel started to speak about R’ Yankel, the wealthiest man in town, describing what the Shabbos table must look like at the home of the wealthy merchant: the elegant table covered in dishes, the aroma of delicious food filling the air. R’ Yankel, he speculated, worked hard all week and deserved this moment, pure oneg Shabbos, surrounded by his family.

R’ Mottel’s wife was puzzled, because it was not her husband’s sort to be preoccupied with the money, home, or table of another. Her husband kept speaking, with obvious excitement, about the large platter of fish that R’ Yankel was enjoying, but she could not understand this unexpected interest in R’ Yankel. Sitting in his rundown little house, at a table that was pitifully bare of Shabbos delicacies, R’ Mottel’s joy kept growing as he seemed to be visualizing R’ Yankel’s every bite of fish—and then, his wife understood.

Her husband did not have fish for Shabbos, but he reasoned that even if he himself could not celebrate the day in the way he would have liked to, there were other Yidden who could, and so he worked to awaken feelings of love within himself for that Yid. The wealthy R’ Yankel was eating fish in honor of Shabbos, and this made R’ Mottel happy for him — and for the Shabbos itself, the day being accorded its due honor.

This, the chassidim said, was the essence of Kotzk.

Reprinted from ”Kotzk” by Yisroel Besser, with permission from the copyright holder, ArtScroll Mesorah Publications.