Adapted from: Rav Nosson Tzvi Speaks by Rebbetzin Sara Finkel and Rabbi Yehuda Heimowitz

If someone were to ask me whether I would choose life in this world or life in the next, I would answer that I choose life in Olam Haba — but when we say this, our mouths and our hearts frequently do not correspond. It is virtually impossible to choose the path leading to Olam Haba to the exclusion of all else, without desiring at least a small taste of Olam Hazeh. Therefore, while we face two diverging roads, each one leading in a different direction, it is hard for us to make a definitive choice. Instead, many of us seem to opt for life in this world as well as life in Olam Haba.
If we were given the opportunity to choose only Olam Hazeh or Olam Haba, would we actually choose the latter?

The world today abounds with material pleasures and indulgences, offering an endless array of food, clothing, and devices. When I first came to yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael, there was nothing to be had! Many homes didn’t have gas or even a refrigerator. All everyone had equally was poverty! Even in chutz la’aretz, where the economic situation was far better, people struggled to earn a living.

Under such circumstances, the choice of a glittering Olam Haba over a wearying, poverty-stricken Olam Hazeh is self-understood.

Today, we live in a world of plenty, showered as we are with both spiritual and material bounty. Everyone has a home and every device necessary for a home. In the past, someone who owned even one of these gadgets was considered wealthy. Today, anyone who doesn’t own a cell phone is regarded as practically barefoot. How, then, are we expected to choose between Olam Hazeh and Olam Haba?

Every Yid in every generation has the choice to dwell in the tent of Shem, like Yaakov, or set out into the big world to hunt game, like Eisav. Is it possible that in this generation, we no longer have to choose between the two worlds, and we can choose a third course that encompasses both?
I once heard that a person who knows how to differentiate between the ikar and tafel, the core versus its external trappings, and to seize that core has great potential to succeed in life. Even if he also acquires the tafel along the way, he will succeed, as long as his primary focus is on the ikar.
In our world today, it is virtually impossible to live without any grasp on Olam Hazeh, for even luxuries have become necessities.

“The principle of the matter,” writes the Mesillas Yesharim (Ch. 1), “is that man wasn’t created for his circumstances in Olam Hazeh, but for… Olam Haba, although his circumstances in Olam Hazeh are the means for his Olam Haba, which is his ultimate purpose.” Here, the Mesillas Yesharim expresses that the function of the bounty that we enjoy in Olam Hazeh is to enhance our avodas Hashem. Olam Hazeh, then, is the tool that enables us to attain our ultimate goal in life.

Our task is to distinguish between ikar and tafel, to appreciate our essence and role in this world — and this is the manifestation of bechirah in our generation. Do we regard limud Torah as fundamental and everything else in life as the tools and external trappings that enable us to acquire it? Or does the endless gashmiyus surrounding us constitute the focus of our lives?

This is the essence of bechirah — the choice to follow Yaakov’s path to Olam Haba or to traverse Eisav’s path as an ish yodei’a tzayid. Two people may dress identically and learn shoulder-to-shoulder in the same beis midrash; they may live in the same type of home, and their lives may follow similar courses. Yet one may be following the path of Yaakov, and the other, the path of Eisav — since the former considers Torah the ikar and views everything else merely as a means of acquiring Torah, while his friend’s aspirations revolve around Olam Hazeh, and he regards limud Torah merely as another task in life.