Does Hashem Hate Me?

 

Question:

The Rambam says in Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Teshuva, Chapter 7, that a person before he does teshuva is hated by Hashem, and the mitzvot he performs are disgusting to him and if he prays he doesn’t listen to him. But if he does teshuva Hashem loves him and then welcomes him.

However, all my life I was taught that Hashem understands a persons challenges and He loves a person unconditionally even after he sins, because at the end of the day a person is Hashem’s child.

Does this mean every day Hashem hates me because I somehow sin every day (even though I passed the nisayon so many times before that time I fell)?

I want to do what’s right and I fall, and I’m trying to be better. I wish I never sinned again, but reality is I’m always being tested and falling?

So Hashem hates me basically all the time?

So there’s no point in doing mitzvos because it’s disgusting in his eyes, and even if I do teshuva right now, probably in 30 minutes I will have sinned again somehow, so He hates me again?

This makes me so broken, like it’s inevitable I’ll constantly fall, so Hashem will always hate me?

 

Answer:

Hashem’s love for every Jew is deep, eternal, and layered. It’s possible for Hashem to feel profound disappointment or even what may be described as “hatred” toward certain behaviors or choices, yet never let go of His essential love for the soul beneath. These two emotions can exist simultaneously not as contradictions, but as expressions of a divine truth that transcends human logic.

Even in moments of spiritual distance, the pintele Yid, that tiny, unbreakable spark of holiness within every Jewish soul remains whole and untouched. As explained in Tanya (Chapter 32) every Jew contains within them both good and struggle, light and darkness. But the divine essence the core of the soul remains pure and forever beloved by Hashem.

In Tanya, this idea is also tied to how we are meant to love others: we are commanded to love the goodness in every fellow Jew, while also rejecting or disliking the negative aspects and behaviors. This doesn’t mean we stop loving the person; it means we distinguish between the soul and the struggle. Just as Hashem does with us.

There are different kinds of love. One is conditional based on logic, behavior, and visible merit. But beyond that is a deeper, essential love. This is a love that defies reason, born from Hashem’s eternal bechira, His divine choice to bind Himself to the Jewish people forever.

This is similar to the love a parent has for a child. At times, a parent may feel frustration or even distance. But beneath it all, the love remains. It is unwavering, steady, and unshakable.

There is a powerful teaching attributed to Rebbe Elimelech of Lizhensk:

“If only I could love the greatest tzaddik as much as Hashem loves even the greatest rasha.”

Hashem’s love is not limited or fleeting. It is vast enough to hold even the most distant soul close.

The Gemara (Kiddushin 36a) reinforces this idea:

“Whether they behave this way or that way, they are still called My children.”

Even when a Jew sins, their essential status as a child of Hashem never changes. His love remains constant.

In another moving teaching, the Gemara says:

“When a person sins, the Shechinah says: ‘My head hurts, My arm hurts.’”

This illustrates how deeply Hashem is connected to us; even in our moments of failure, He feels our pain. The relationship is so strong that even during sin, Hashem is still bound to us with compassion and concern.

The Radak comments on Malachi 1:2:

“And if you ask: In what way have You loved us? Was not Esav a brother to Yaakov? Yet I chose Yaakov and his descendants, even though they anger Me.”

Hashem’s love is not based on the actions of the moment. It is rooted in a deeper, eternal bond.

It’s important to clarify a common misconception: the Rambam’s harsh words regarding the wicked (rasha) refer specifically to someone who is fully committed to evil, someone who has no desire to return or do good. This does not apply to the average person who struggles, yet sincerely wants to improve. In such cases, the bond with Hashem remains alive and vibrant.

And still, with all this, our fulfillment of mitzvos is not dependent on emotional closeness or love alone. We serve Hashem because we are His servants. The Torah’s commandments are binding regardless of personal feeling or spiritual state. Every mitzvah, every single one, has a powerful effect in the upper worlds, and also refines and elevates us in this world.

 

 

#44861