There was once a king who wanted to give a wondrous treasure to anyone deserving it. He placed the treasure in an open field. Then he asked his magicians to erect an imaginary fortress around the field like a mirage in the desert. The magicians obeyed, and the king proclaimed to the populace that a great treasure was waiting in the field for anyone wishing to retrieve it.
Thousands of people came to the field. But when they arrived, they found themselves face to face with a huge fortress surrounded by mean-looking guards. When the people wanted to enter the fortress, the guards waved their guns at them and warned them to come no closer. The people were frightened away. But the king’s son, who was also there, said to some of his friends, “My father, the king, created all this only as a test to see who wants the treasure and who doesn’t. Therefore, it is impossible that these guards, who are but servants to my father, would really stop me from entering.”
The king’s son walked toward the guards, who waved their weapons and shouted for him to stop. But he kept walking at a steady pace. When he reached the guards, they suddenly vanished. As he approached the fortress, he noticed it was locked with a heavy lock, but this too did not dissuade him.
He walked straight up to the fortress, and when he could continue no further, the fortress vanished; there was nothing standing between him and the priceless treasure that was waiting for him in the open field.
What Are Your Guards?
As we reflect on our journey in avodas Hashem, we may recognize a familiar pattern. We’ve heard about the great treasures offered by fulfilling mitzvos with greater kavanah, cultivating a stronger connection with Hashem through hisbodidus, or a deeper level of commitment we’ve been avoiding. Like the treasure in the open field, we know these gifts are real. Perhaps we’ve even felt drawn to them, sensing the promise of connection, meaning, and spiritual elevation.
Yet when we consider walking toward them—truly embracing them—we encounter our own guards who may represent:
- Fear: Fear of who we are. Fear of judgment from others. Fear of what we’ll have to give up. Fear of failure or hypocrisy.
- Self-Doubt: “I don’t have enough time for this.” “I have too many other obligations.” “Maybe when life is less busy.” “It’s not realistic for my situation.”
- Perfectionism: “If I can’t do it perfectly, I won’t do it at all.” “I need to learn more first.” “I’m not ready yet.” “Other people can do this, but not me.”
- Time Constraints: “It’s too much, and I don’t know where I would even start.” “I’ll never be able to sustain this.”
The guards stand at attention, warning us not to come closer, brandishing their weapons of doubt. They cite our limitations and inadequacies. They remind us of all the reasons we can’t, shouldn’t, or won’t succeed.
Perhaps you recognize these guards. They are the yetzer hara’s most effective weapon—not temptation toward aveiros, but the voice that whispers that we are incapable of growth. The yetzer hara knows that if it can convince us that we cannot reach the treasure, it need not tempt us away from it. The guards are its illusion, its mirage, its main defenses against our spiritual progress.
My Own Journey: Walking Through the Fortress
As I reflect on my own journey towards Shabbos observance, I realize that, like the people in the mashal, I had heard of a great treasure. However, I chose to walk very slowly toward that open field — at times with joy, and at other times, with trepidation. I often felt fear. Fear of changing my ways. Fear of becoming someone different. Fear of needing to get dinner ready before sundown at the end of a long workday. Fear of not being reachable by people who were far away — for 25 hours. Surely, I sought the treasure. After all, who wouldn’t desire a priceless treasure?
But the guards were shouting at me, warning me not to come closer.
Despite believing the guards, my husband and I stepped forward, deciding we would try to “do Shabbos,” and so we approached it cautiously. We began by lighting candles and hosting friends for Shabbos meals. Occasionally we studied, and sometimes attended shul on Shabbos mornings.
Gradually, we uncovered a couple of jewels that offered a taste of Shabbos’s bounty:
- Jewel #1: Shabbos gave us a break from everyday life and our tendency to overwork.
- Jewel #2: We spent time together doing things we both enjoyed.
And yet, as we moved forward, the guards waved their weapons even more wildly. The imposing fortress was wrapped in chains and a lock.
Although I really wanted the treasure, I allowed the guards to convince me that it would involve massive changes that I wasn’t ready to undertake. I didn’t believe that I could actually enter the fortress. I had heard about the 39 malachos of Shabbos observance, but I had dismissed them as “too religious” or “too difficult” — and so I stayed in my comfort zone. The rules themselves didn’t create the walls; my own fears did.
Eventually, my interest in living a more halachic life, coupled with a growing sense that I wanted to be part of something much larger than myself, began to awaken a renewed sense of commitment. I asked myself, “What if I’m standing outside of an imaginary fortress? What if I just need to walk forward with confidence?” And so, I walked toward a fuller Shabbos observance with my husband, deliberately and steadily. With each step, I half expected the guards to shout at me to turn back. Many questioned why I would want to make such changes. But these were brief moments and much less imposing than I had feared.
As I took each step, I realized that the only thing that was keeping me from the treasure of Shabbos was the fear I had created in my own mind. The fortress—once so imposing and real—began to fade. I discovered that the practices I had been so afraid of were not burdens but gifts. The disconnection from technology became a relief rather than a loss. The preparation became a labor of love rather than overwhelming work. And slowly, the imaginary fortress simply dissolved.
When I finally arrived—fully embracing Shabbos—I looked back and realized: there had been nothing standing between me and this treasure all along. The fortress existed only in my mind, constructed from my fears and doubts. But Hashem had been waiting patiently, like the king in the mashal, for me to realize that the guards were illusions, that the fortress and lock would vanish, and that the treasure was mine to claim.
What Will You Choose?
Rabbi Nachman’s mashal reminds us that the obstacles we perceive in our spiritual lives are often illusions. The treasure—whether it’s Shabbos, deeper prayer, Torah study, or any other mitzvah—is waiting in an open field. But we must be willing to walk forward despite our fears.
Perhaps you, too, have been walking slowly toward a spiritual practice or commitment that calls to you. Perhaps you see the fortress and believe it’s impenetrable. But what if you took one step forward? And then another? What if you discovered that the guards were only testing your resolve, and that they would vanish the moment you showed you truly wanted the treasure?
The choice is yours. Will you stay on the outskirts, convinced by yetzer hara’s illusion? Or will you walk forward with courage, knowing that the Ribbono Shel Olam has prepared this treasure specifically for you, and that nothing real stands between you and the gift He’s offering?
The fortress is imaginary. The treasure is real. And it’s waiting for you in the open field. Your Father, the King, is waiting for you to claim it.
Walking Toward Your Treasure
Perhaps you’re already on this journey. Perhaps you’re just beginning to consider it. Perhaps you’ve tried before, and the guards turned you back.
Name your guards:
- Fear of change, judgment, or failure
- Self-doubt: “I don’t have time” or “I’m not ready.”
- Perfectionism: “If I can’t do it perfectly, why try?”
- Time Constraints: “It’s too much to start.”
These guards aren’t as powerful as they appear. Walk forward with steady conviction—like the king’s son in the mashal—knowing that Hashem promised this treasure. The guards are merely illusions designed to keep you distant.
Start small:
- Commit to one practice, even imperfectly
- Set aside time for learning with kavanah
- Take on one mitzvah you’ve been avoiding
- Reach out for guidance from someone further along
Each step weakens the guards’ hold. Each effort reveals that the treasure is real.
A Final Note on the Mashal
After sharing this mashal, Rabbi Nachman taught: “We must remember that G-d declared that the treasure of the Torah and its mitzvos is available to us all. Any and every obstacle, no matter how great or small, that tends to keep us from this treasure, is only an illusion, very often the figment of our own imagination.”
The guards are real only if we give them life. The treasure has always been waiting in the open field.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 62 Chanukah.
