Dethroning the Inner Idol: Re’eh and Rosh Hashanah

As we approach Rosh Hashanah and the Days of Awe, I turn to Parshat Re’eh to reflect on themes that will shape the Mussaf service, which I hope to lead this year, if my health permits. Each parsha offers a lens, not just into the Torah’s narrative, but into the spiritual work we are called to do as we prepare to stand before God, during the High Holy Days and every day.

Before leading the congregation, the chazzan recites Hineni (הִנֵּנִי), a humble plea that begins: “Here I am, poor in deeds, trembling and afraid in awe of the One who is enthroned on the praises of Israel” (הִנֵּנִי הֶעָנִי מִמַּעַשׂ, נִרְעָשׁ וְנִפְחָד מִפַּחַד יוֹשֵׁב תְּהִלּוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל). The chazzan acknowledges, though unworthy, the weight of standing as a representative before God. This prayer sets the tone for divine service, calling us to shed pride and align with a higher purpose, a perfect prelude to the themes of Parshat Re’eh.

This week’s parsha, Re’eh (רְאֵה), opens with a stark choice:

“See, I place before you today a blessing and a curse…” (Devarim 11:26, רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה)

It launches into a section about obedience to the Torah, promising blessings for adherence and curses for disobedience. The language is urgent, a warning as we approach days where, spiritually, we walk a delicate line. God presents challenges, personal, communal, and national, that test our commitment.

Beneath this call to clarity lies a deeper warning, one that speaks not only to ancient Israel but to our modern selves: the first item we are told to avoid is idolatry.

“Beware… lest you be drawn after them [false gods] and inquire about their practices…” (Devarim 12:30, הִשָּׁמֶר לְךָ פֶּן-תִּנָּקֵשׁ אַחֲרֵיהֶם… וּפֶן-תִּדְרֹשׁ לֵאלֹהֵיהֶם)

Idolatry might seem distant. On a trip to India, I was once offered a literal idol by kind-hearted people, but such encounters are rare. Yet idolatry has not vanished, it has transformed. The Lubavitcher Rebbe teaches that the most dangerous idol is internal: the ego.

“Let no strange god be within you” (Tehillim 81:10, לֹא-יִהְיֶה בְךָ אֵל זָר), interpreted by Chazal as the yetzer hara (יֵצֶר הָרָע), the inner force that resists surrender to God.

The Rebbe explains that when our desires, fears, or pride override divine truth, we serve ourselves, not God. This inner idol, the self that insists on being the center, must be dethroned. He writes:

“The greatest obstacle to divine service is not external distraction, but internal resistance, the voice that says, ‘I am the center.’”
“To make a dwelling place for God in this world, one must become transparent, not absent, but aligned.”

As someone who has long wrestled with control, I find this teaching humbling. What about striving to reach our full potential? Yet Hineni reminds us: “I am poor in deeds, trembling and afraid, though I am not worthy” (הִנֵּנִי הֶעָנִי מִמַּעַשׂ, נִרְעָשׁ וְנִפְחָד, אף על פי שאיני ראוי). True potential lies not in self-aggrandizement but in aligning with God’s will.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l echoes this in his essay Challenging the Idols of the Secular Age:
“Every age has its idols… and ours is the worship of the self.”

In a culture that celebrates autonomy, we risk losing sight of a higher truth. Rabbi Sacks reminds us that humility is not weakness but accountability to God. He reflects on the shofar’s message:

“The shofar is God’s way of saying what He said to Adam: ‘Where are you?’” (אַיֶּכָּה, Bereishit 3:9)

It is a call to awaken, to return, to rediscover our true selves beneath layers of ego.

The Mussaf of Rosh Hashanah, which I hope to lead, is structured around three themes:

• Malchuyot (מַלְכוּיוֹת) – Declaring God’s Kingship: “Remember us for life, O King who desires life, and inscribe us in the Book of Life, for Your sake, living God” (זָכְרֵנוּ לְחַיִּים, מֶלֶךְ חָפֵץ בְּחַיִּים, וְכָתְבֵנוּ בְּסֵפֶר הַחַיִּים, לְמַעַנְךָ אֱלֹהִים חַיִּים).
• Zichronot (זִכְרוֹנוֹת) – Trusting in Divine Memory: “You remember all deeds from the beginning of time and take note of all creatures of old” (אַתָּה זוֹכֵר כָּל-מַעֲשֵׂה עוֹלָם, וּפוֹקֵד כָּל-יְצוּרֵי קֶדֶם).
• Shofarot (שׁוֹפָרוֹת) – Hearing the Call of the Soul: “A great shofar will be sounded, and a still small voice will be heard” (וְשׁוֹפָר גָּדוֹל יִתָּקַע, וְקוֹל דְּמָמָה דַּקָּה יִשָּׁמַע).

These prayers are existential. Malchuyot demands we dethrone ourselves to crown God. Zichronot asks to be seen as we truly are. Shofarot bypasses the ego, speaking directly to the soul.

Viktor Frankl reminds us that meaning comes from using our gifts to contribute. In times of transition, like retirement, we ask: What now? How do I give? Yet, as Hineni teaches, we are not the center, acknowledging our unworthiness before God. The Rebbe emphasizes that true service requires transparency, alignment with God’s will, not personal ambition. Our purpose may be modest: leading a prayer, listening, writing, showing up. All of it matters.

To make a dwelling place for God, we don’t need to be grand, we need to be real, echoing the humility of Hineni: “Here I am, poor in deeds, though I am not worthy” (הִנֵּנִי הֶעָנִי מִמַּעַשׂ, אף על פי שאיני ראוי).

This reminds me of a chessboard, where each piece, whether a king, a pawn, or a knight, has a unique role, moving according to the player’s strategy. A pawn may seem insignificant, yet its careful advance can shift the game’s outcome; a knight’s bold leap serves the broader plan. Similarly, we each contribute, not for personal glory, but to fulfill God’s purpose, guided by the divine strategy of the Torah.

Parshat Re’eh is an invitation to see clearly, to choose blessing over curse, to dismantle the false gods within. As I prepare to lead Mussaf, I carry the Hineni prayer in my heart, striving to stand before God not as an inflated self but as an honest soul, unworthy yet present. I hope to hear the shofar not just with my ears but with my heart, and to say, with full presence:

“You are our God” (אַתָּה הוּא אֱלֹהֵינוּ).