The Power of Preparation: Elevating Mitzvos Through Hachanah
Fifty years ago, a leading American Torah sage noted that while earlier generations of American Jews grappled with the challenge of observing Shabbos, late-twentieth-century observant Jews, by contrast, struggled to observe erev Shabbos. Over the subsequent decades, our community has steadily deepened its devotion to careful Shabbos observance. Yet, fully embracing the spirit of erev Shabbos preparations, unfortunately, remains a persistent challenge.
Admittedly, I am among those who too often enter Shabbos with little more hachanah (preparation) than a quick shower and a change into Shabbos clothes. And it is not just erev Shabbos hachanah in which I fall short. There have been years when I first begin to contemplate the meaning of Selichos only upon arriving at shul on that solemn autumn Motzaei Shabbos, or I truly reflect on the depth of the Rosh Hashanah prayers only as I open my machzor on Rosh Hashanah night.
I am not much better when it comes to engaging in the functional aspects of mitzvah preparations. While I might manage a grocery run before Shabbos or yom tov, all the real family preparations—planning, cooking and cleaning—are handled entirely by my wife. To make matters worse, after weeks of exhausting pre-Pesach efforts by my wife and others, each year I insert myself on the final evening with the audacity to supposedly conduct the “definitive” chametz cleansing, completed within twenty minutes while armed with a flimsy feather and a wooden spoon. Sukkos is no better, as I have for years deftly outsourced sukkah construction and lulav and esrog shopping to one of my sons.
It seems unlikely that our lack of focus on hachanah is rooted in laziness. After all, we devote countless hours to Torah study and to mitzvah observance, and we generally approach our family, occupational and religious responsibilities with great care and commitment. Our lukewarm attention to hachanah may stem from a perception that personal involvement in preparations is either not so important or altogether unnecessary.
Even Moshe Rabbeinu Needed the Lesson
Even Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest eved Hashem, was not immune to this misperception, as revealed in a stunning episode during the construction of the mishkan and its vessels.
When the righteous women of Israel offered their copper mirrors to contribute to the formation of the kiyor, the mishkan’s washing basin, Moshe initially rejected the offer. We are taught that Moshe found the proposal distasteful, since these mirrors had been used by the Israelite women in Egypt to beautify themselves in order to attract their husbands and thereby ensure the continuity of Klal Yisrael during the years of harsh bondage.
Although Moshe Rabbeinu surely recognized the women’s pure intentions, both in their original use of the mirrors and in offering them for the kiyor, he was nevertheless unsettled by the mirrors’ prior association with what he perceived as mundane, perhaps even immodest, purposes. Yet in reproving Moshe, Hashem praised the mirrors’ prior use and ultimately commanded that the kiyor be fashioned from these mirrors. As I studied these passages, I found myself wondering: where exactly did Moshe Rabbeinu go wrong? What had he overlooked that required Divine illumination?
It all became clear to me when I learned that the kiyor was not actually part of the mishkan proper but rather a vessel used to prepare for the service within it. It struck me that the women of Klal Yisrael, then, as now, had the spiritual sensitivity and binah yesairah to recognize that the preparation for mitzvos is holy and connected to the mitzvah itself. As a vessel devoted to preparation, the kiyor embodied this profound truth, making the mirrors—themselves instruments of sacred preparation—a uniquely fitting choice for its construction.
Moshe Rabbeinu had not yet grasped this spiritual truth. In revealing to Moshe what the women of Klal Yisrael already understood, Hashem affirmed the profound significance of hachanah, and declared, kivyachol, “These mirrors are more precious to Me than anything else.”
The days leading up to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur offer a fitting opportunity to reflect on how we can meaningfully incorporate hachanah into our daily lives, both in mindset and in action. We might consider the teachings of the Sefas Emes that the performance of a mitzvah lifts the soul, drawing it closer to Hashem in ways that our neshamah experiences but our human mind may not easily perceive. But hachanah for that same mitzvah elevates our human bond with Hashem in ways that are tangible, loving and unmistakably real.
As a starting point, we might begin by dividing hachanah into two distinct categories: personal preparation and functional preparation.
• Personal hachanah is the spiritual and intellectual preparation required for mitzvah observance, such as cultivating the right mindset, mastering the correct manner of performing the mitzvah and acquiring an understanding of the mitzvah’s significance.
• Functional hachanah is engaging in the practical and logistical arrangements, however mundane, that are necessary to allow a mitzvah to be performed or a religious occasion to be observed.
Personal Hachanah
The Torah places great emphasis on both the collective and the individual’s halachic obligations and personal relationship with G-d. The personal nature of avodas Hashem underscores the critical importance of personal hachanah. After all, we cannot don tefillin or properly take and wave a lulav and esrog without first learning how. Nor can we meaningfully connect to Hashem through mitzvah observance, let alone through tefillah, berachos or Tehillim, without cultivating the proper mindset and at least a basic understanding of the words we are saying and mitzvos’ foundational depths.
Our lack of meaningful personal hachanah may well lie at the root of many of our religious challenges.
Thus, every mitzvah calls for personal hachanah across three essential dimensions. First, we must understand the mitzvah’s halachic requirements to fulfill it properly. Second, we must cultivate both intellectual depth and emotional resonance to imbue the mitzvah with meaning. And third, we must pause and reorient our focus to ensure that we approach the mitzvah with mindfulness and a clear sense of purpose.
These expressions of personal hachanah are reflected in Chazal’s guidance to begin studying the laws of Pesach thirty days in advance, and to dedicate the month of Elul to preparing for teshuvah in anticipation of Tishrei and the Aseres Yemei Teshuvah. Similarly, Chazal underscored the value of personal hachanah when they praised the righteous individuals who spent an hour in reflection before engaging in prayer.
Our lack of meaningful personal hachanah may well lie at the root of many of our religious challenges. It cannot be surprising that prayers will be dry and mechanical, and Shabbos will be nothing but a leisurely, if not boring, day off from work, if we fail to engage with these obligations’ depth and purpose. And, can we truly expect to sustain our commitment to the nuanced halachos of sensitive mitzvos, such as taharas hamishpachah or the laws and values of tzenius in both dress and lifestyle, without thoughtful reflection and a deep appreciation for their majesty and sacredness?
Rabbi Shimon Schwab, zt”l, the esteemed twentieth-century rabbinic leader of the Breuer’s kehillah, once recounted a pivotal lesson he heard decades earlier while sitting at the Shabbos table of the venerable Chafetz Chaim, zt”l. The Chafetz Chaim had shared the well-known teaching from Chazal that, following Yetzias Mitzrayim, the taste of the manna the Jews ate in the desert would change to match the flavor of whatever food each respective person had in mind.
The Chafetz Chaim then asked those around the table, “What if a person had no specific food in mind, what would the taste of the manna be then?” When no one responded, the Chafetz Chaim answered, “If a person had no thought in mind, the manna had no taste at all, it was entirely flavorless.” He then continued: “This is true of every religious experience. Without thoughtfulness, without intent, it will necessarily be dry and tasteless. But when we are mindful, each word of Torah study and each mitzvah observance becomes suffused with sweetness.”
Personal hachanah may be the quiet force that transforms our avodas Hashem into something rich with purpose and sweet beyond measure.
Functional Hachanah
While the value of personal hachanah is undeniable, the role and scope of functional hachanah can stir differing opinions.
By “functional hachanah,” I refer to those preparations that are important, sometimes even essential, for the proper observance of a mitzvah yet do not necessarily need to be carried out by the individual performing the mitzvah itself. Examples include Shabbos and yom tov preparations such as cooking, home cleaning and washing clothes, as well as readying oil and wicks for the Chanukah menorah and procuring or verifying the kashrus of mezuzos to place on doorposts.
Indeed, the conveniences of contemporary affluence and industrialization have diminished the need for functional hachanah. Modern home appliances have certainly eased the demands of hachanah for Shabbos and yom tov, and larger Orthodox communities benefit from stores stocked with baked challahs, oven-ready chickens, and pre-cut, pre-checked vegetables. And even prepackaged Chanukah oil cups with wicks are increasingly popular.
Seemingly, those who can afford cleaning and other hired help enjoy the significant reduction in the need for traditional preparation. Families who spend Pesach in a hotel tend to experience this even more dramatically, as they completely forgo Pesach preparations. Looking ahead, some predict that robots may soon render functional hachanah nearly obsolete.
Are these developments signs of progress or harmful indulgences? Should functional hachanah be seen as a burdensome task to avoid when the mitzvah can still be fully observed without it? Or does forgoing personal effort in the mundane and routine aspects of hachanah deprive us of something deeply meaningful? There are at least three perspectives. I favor the third.
The first view regards functional hachanah as purely utilitarian, necessary only when no one else can perform the task. From this perspective, the value lies entirely in the result, not the process. Though ensuring hachanah’s performance is a religious obligation, the actual act of preparation holds no intrinsic spiritual weight. What matters is that the table is set, not who sets it; that the path is cleared, not whose footsteps shaped the way. Functional hachanah is measured only by the mitzvah it enables, not by the effort expended to prepare it.
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur . . . are days of relationship, not reckoning; they are days to renew our bond with Hashem through connection rather than calculation.
A second view sees holiness woven into every step toward a mitzvah, and to disregard the spirituality inherent in functional hachanah is to overlook the sacred that dwells within the mundane. Yet this view distinguishes between types of preparation. While functional hachanah may be carried out by others, personal hachanah, necessary to one’s own halachic literacy and rooted in inner reflection and spiritual readiness, can only be undertaken by oneself. Therefore, when choosing where to direct one’s limited time and energy, it is wise to delegate the functional when possible and reserve the personal for oneself.
The third view sees profound spiritual opportunity in functional hachanah, and all the more so when performing a task that could have been delegated. Like personal hachanah, it is not merely a means to an end, but a sacred path toward deepened connection with the Divine.
Our relationship with Hashem is often likened to that of husband and wife, a bond rooted in love and devotion. In a loving marriage, each partner understands the duty to see to the other’s needs. Meeting those needs is foundational, but the relationship flourishes not through efficiency alone but through personal investment.
When a spouse chooses to personally meet the other’s need, be it greeting the other at the airport, preparing a meal or taking out the trash, an otherwise mundane act becomes a gesture of love. The beauty of the relationship grows not only in the one who receives but even more deeply in the one who gives.
So too with hachanah. Living lives committed to intensifying our relationship with Hashem, when we embrace the tasks of hachanah ourselves, and even more so when others could do it, it becomes a quiet offering, nurturing the bond between us and our Creator.
Mitzvah observance anchors our covenant with Hashem. Halachah is the unshakable foundation of our duty and devotion. But it is functional hachanah, performed with intention and personal effort, that elevates this relationship from one of obligation to one of intimacy and majesty. The Talmud (Shabbos 119a) does not idealize passivity when it comes to mitzvos; instead, it esteems great sages for engaging in physical Shabbos preparations like salting fish, chopping vegetables, and sweeping floors. These were men of the highest spiritual stature, yet they embraced the most ordinary of tasks, signaling that greatness lies not in withdrawal from the mundane but in imbuing it with holiness.
Hachanah and the Yamim Noraim
Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are not days of Divine bookkeeping, as though we stand before a distant auditor tallying our spiritual gains and losses. Rather, they are days of relationship, not reckoning; days to renew our bond with Hashem through connection rather than calculation. In this pursuit, the realm of hachanah, both personal and functional, offers a profound pathway to deepen that relationship.
Personal hachanah imbues our avodas Hashem with both meaning and sweetness, reaffirming its central place in our lives. Yet, as with all deep relationships, the bond grows richer when we engage not only in moments of subliminal focus but also in the humble, often overlooked mundane acts—acts of functional hachanah. Even when such tasks could easily be delegated, choosing to perform them ourselves transforms ordinary, everyday labor into a quiet but potent gesture of love.
Moishe Bane, president emeritus of the Orthodox Union, serves as a contributing editor of Jewish Action.
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