The Inner Flame

Every Yid is a mikdash

The Torah states: “V’asu li mishkan v’shachanti b’socham—Make for me a dwelling place, and I will dwell within them.” The famous question arises: why “within them” instead of “within it?” Many answer that this refers to the Jewish people—we must become a mikdash ourselves, a place where Hashem can dwell. Every Yid is a mikdash. 

Within the Mishkan there were two Mizbechos: the Mizbe’ach HaPnimi (Inner Mizbe’ach) and the Mizbe’ach HaChitzon (Outer Mizbe’ach). The Outer Mizbe’ach, also called the “Large Mizbe’ach,” was bigger and more visible, placed in the outer courtyard in a more public location. The inner Mizbe’ach was smaller, hidden in the inner Sanctuary, known as the Heichal or Kodesh, near the Kodesh HaKedoshim. It was used exclusively for ketores (sweet-smelling incense).

It is our mission to create a dwelling place for Hashem’s presence within us.

Dr. Elliott Rosenbaum is a former U.S. Navy Psychologist and Yeshiva student who felt nothing until he found pnimius. He is the author of The Valued Self and The Essential Self, co-author of the TYH Pesach and Tishrei Companions, the host of the Emunah Meditation podcast, and likes creating experiences 
for people to connect with their Neshamas.

The Inner & Outer Mizbe’ach

Perhaps we can suggest that these altars represent two types of greatness that every Yid can achieve within our personal mishkan. 

The Outer Mizbe’ach represents external greatness — our strengths and talents used in service of others. Your “Outer Mizbe’ach” is how you can influence and inspire others, and help them grow closer to Hashem. It’s the class you teach, the book you write, the speech you give. From a simple conversation that helps encourage your fellow Yid, to Torah you may teach on a global stage, anything you do to help another Yid is part of your Outer Mizbe’ach. People see it, people talk about it. It’s what the Jewish world recognizes as “success.” 

Your “Inner Mizbe’ach” represents personal, internal struggles — the hidden work of refining our character and deepening our connection to Hashem. Unlike the Outer Mizbe’ach, this work is private and personal. The effort we invest to become more patient, accepting and loving towards our fellow Jew is Inner Mizbe’ach work. Trying to daven with more passion, doing mitzvos with inner intention, improving in areas of kedushah, or developing our personal relationship with Hashem are all examples of Inner Mizbe’ach work. 

Nobody sees what is burning on your Inner Mizbe’ach. It doesn’t earn you honor and glory from others. It’s the battle you often fight on your own, and it can be really, really hard. Eizehu gibor? Hakovesh es yitzro. True strength is conquering the yetzer hara. Inner Mizbe’ach greatness is when we take a step in kedushah or improve our middos even though we may look around and find no applause.

Outer greatness is visible; inner greatness is sensed. Like the fragrance of the ketores, you can “smell” in a person that they have developed their inner self. When someone’s Inner Mizbe’ach is aflame, their Outer Mizbe’ach gets fueled. They are burning with passion, and their outer work is an authentic expression of their inner work. It is their inner world that inspires the world around them. 

An Outer Mizbe’ach that isn’t powered by the Inner Mizbe’ach will likely come across as inauthentic. It generally fails to inspire because it is not a genuine outer expression of inner work. The world can “smell” the difference between outer work powered by deep internal refinement and that which isn’t.

Both altars are essential. Tafkid (mission) relates to the Outer Mizbe’ach, while tikkun (rectification) is the Inner Mizbe’ach. We must nurture both. 

Keep that inner flame burning bright! Check in on your Outer Mizbe’ach from time to time, and analyze whether it’s being fueled by your Inner Mizbe’ach. If it isn’t, the most effective way to enhance and grow your Outer Mizbe’ach is by focusing on igniting your Inner Mizbe’ach. Then watch how that fire burns bright and spreads to the world around you! 

The Inner Mizbeach Challenge

Let’s take this idea further. One of the greatest challenges of working on our Inner Mizbe’ach is that our growth often goes unnoticed. Yes, people may “sense” when someone has refined their character and deepened their relationship with Hashem, but that recognition doesn’t come in the moment. And in the struggle itself — at the moment we are fighting that inner battle, trying to muster the self-control, it can feel like we are standing alone. There are no rounds of applause, no words of encouragement, no immediate validation. If a person working on their anger manages to hold back when someone irritates them, responding with patience instead of frustration, no one will congratulate them. 

Contrast this with the Outer Mizbe’ach. When someone gives a shiur, writes an article, or organizes a chesed initiative, the results are immediate and public. A teacher delivering a powerful class receives nods of agreement, students thanking them afterward, and hopefully leaves that experience knowing that he or she has just inspired a group of students to live a more inspired and connected life. That feels amazing! This encouragement fuels their motivation to continue. They also feel a sense of accountability—knowing others expect them to keep going, to keep teaching, to keep inspiring. The feedback loop is immediate, and the encouragement from others keeps the fire burning.

Inner Mizbe’ach work, on the other hand, can be lonely. When we fail, no one rushes to pick us up. If we succeed, no one claps. Of course, the Tzadikim teach us that every small spiritual achievement is a big deal, and has a real and powerful impact in the spiritual worlds. But even though Hashem cheers on every small step we take, realistically speaking, we often don’t feel that and have a hard time doing it ourselves.

The Solution

What we are missing in all of this is simple: we need to bring glory to the Inner Mizbe’ach. Why can’t we infuse our inner work with encouragement, validation, motivation, and a sense of reward—just as outer accomplishments naturally receive? 

The key to achieving this is in the power of holy friendships.

Knei lecha chaver — find yourself a true friend. A like-minded Yid who will partner with you in elevating each other’s Inner Mizbe’ach. Someone with whom you can be open, honest, and even a bit vulnerable. A relationship where egos are left at the door, allowing both of you to focus on what truly matters: getting closer to Hashem. Be each other’s personal cheerleader, encourager, motivator — lifting one another up in the battles that no one else sees. 

A true chaver is someone who listens with empathy and without judgment when you share the areas you’re working on, whether it’s overcoming bad habits (sur me’ra) or taking new steps in spiritual growth (asei tov). Together, you strategize — breaking down your goals into small, tangible steps. When you succeed, your chaver celebrates your victory with you. When you stumble, he (or she) is there to help you back up. And, of course, you do the same for him (or her).

You don’t need to be working on the same struggle, or even be at the same level. You help your friend with their challenge, and they help you with yours. But if you do find someone tackling the same area of growth, it can be even more powerful, because your struggles are in sync and you can relate to each other’s experiences.

Yanky shares:

I don’t have a Rebbi I am close with that can help encourage me to grow spiritually. I have a lot of friends I have a great time with, but at some point I just realized that my soul needed something more. I needed to start taking my ruchniyos seriously.

I went to Yeshiva. I’ve learned Torah. I’ve learned mussar. I have the knowledge and tools I need to grow in a slow and steady way. But I’m just not doing it! How do I get these ideas integrated into my routine? These are the thoughts I found myself having. 

At some point I had the courage to share this with one of my friends. This is a “fun friend.” We hang out, we shmooze at the kiddush, we hock about politics or the news. But I’ve never had a conversation with him about personal growth, about becoming a more connected eved Hashem. Don’t get me wrong — we love Yiddishkeit! Find us a kumsitz or a fabrengen or a geshmakeh shiur or sefer, and we’re there, shuckling or dancing, and feeling a connection. But it never got personal. It never got real. So life just carried on, and I didn’t feel like I was really growing. I shared this all with him, somewhat self conscious about myself, not sure what my “fun friend” would respond.

He listened to my shpiel in complete silence, listening intently without interrupting or responding. When I was done, I looked at him and saw tears in his eyes, and he responded with 4 words: “I want that too.”

With the help of Hashem, things have changed dramatically since that moment. We didn’t have a script to follow, so we just made up to shmooze one night that week in my backyard. The weather was nice. We lit a bonfire, cracked a few beers and some chips, put on some holy music (usually Joey Newcomb) and just shmoozed about what it meant to be a Yid, and how we can bring Hashem into our lives more. 

This became a weekly ritual — my backyard, bonfire, beer, munch, holy music, and getting closer to Hashem. It took some time till we figured out what this was and how to actually help each other, but we came to be each other’s friend, Rebbi, cheerleader, coach, and therapist all in one. The highlight of this get-together is our spiritual “check-in.” Basically we take turns identifying a specific area of avodas Hashem we each want to work on, and together we try to come up with an action plan that is realistic and exciting, something that is easy enough to achieve but hard enough that it requires pushing yourself a bit out of your comfort zone. 

The next week we’ll review how it went, and either strategize ways to maintain that growth or take another step, or —  if it didn’t go so well that week — we’ll try to figure out why and how it can go better next week. 

Over time our little “chavrusa” turned into a little group, and now we’ll have 3-5 people getting together each week, helping each other get closer to Hashem. It’s a win-win for everyone: we are happier, more connected Yidden. We are growing in a consistent and steady way in our avodas Hashem. We all get tremendous ’nachas’ from ourselves and each other as we watch ourselves grow. 

Yet, every so often, I find myself wondering: What would have happened if I didn’t have the courage to have that initial conversation with him, and on the flip side, how would things be had I had that conversation even sooner? And who else in my life do I see as just a “fun friend,” when deep down, their neshamah also longs to grow in avodas Hashem?

Yitz shares:

I live in a suburb of Miami in a mostly non-Jewish area. The warm climate and the neighborhood I live in makes shmiras einayim very difficult for me, and I constantly struggle to guard my eyes. It is not an easy environment for a Yid striving to maintain kedushah!

At some point I discovered that a few neighbors of mine also struggled in this area, and at some point we got together and decided to do something about it. We formed a little group, which we fondly call “Shomrim.” But unlike the well-known Shomrim in many cities who protect physical safety, our Shomrim is dedicated to protecting each other’s spiritual well-being.

Our system is simple yet incredibly effective. Whenever one of us has to go somewhere that poses a kedushah challenge, he sends out a message in our group chat. Whoever is available immediately calls and stays on the phone with him while he runs his errand. We don’t have to talk about anything deep; the mere presence of a fellow Yid on the line serves as a reminder of our mission: get in, stay focused, and get out of the spiritual danger zone.

The effect has been tremendous. When I walk out of a store or a challenging environment, I feel like a million dollars. Look what I just did! I didn’t let the yetzer hara win. I took action to protect myself. I reached out for support. And I passed this nisayon. The Shomrim volunteer on the other end of the call also hangs up with a profound sense of fulfillment, knowing that he had the zechus to help a fellow Jew guard his kedushah and overcome a test.

Whatever little discomfort we had to endure to acknowledge our kedushah struggle to each other has paid off a thousand times over. I see that as a low price to pay for the incredible growth I’ve experienced and the simcha of living a life of kedushah. We’re not perfect, but we are trying and we are growing. Sometimes I think about the reaction that there must be in Shamayim at our little Shomrim group! I imagine that Hashem, surrounded by the Heavenly angels, is looking down, filled with nachas, watching His children uplift and protect each other in their quest for holiness and spiritual growth.