A certain man once decided that he wanted to make his Pesach Seder the most meaningful and spiritual ever. He spent weeks of preparation and meditation. He studied the most erudite and esoteric commentaries on the Hagada. As Pesach approached, he bought the most super kosher Matzo available. He prepared the charoses and the maror and all the special foods for the Seder.

When the Seder finally arrived, he sat like a king, reciting the hagada with fervor, consuming the ritual Seder foods with the utmost sense of holiness, and singing the Pesach songs with joy into the wee hours of the night. He could not have been more pleased and satisfied after this monumental event.

The next afternoon, he was thinking about the second Seder to take place that night. He wanted this to be just as grand and special as the first. He was very tired, having stayed up so late the night before, so he decided to take a nap that afternoon in order to be awake and fresh for the night time Seder.

As it happened, because he was so exhausted, he slept until almost midnight. Since halacha (Jewish Law) requires that the Afikomen, which is the final food of the seder, be eaten before chatzos (midnight), he now needed to hastily start the seder; rapidly recite the hagada; quickly eat the matzo, maror and charoses; drink the 4 cups; eat a modest meal; and chant all the appropriate blessings. He had only minutes to accomplish all of this.

The next day, he was mulling over the events of the previous night. He was so disappointed. He had such a marvelous Seder the night before. How could he have such an uninspiring rush-job the next night? He was very depressed about it and went to speak to his Rabbi for guidance, and to tell him about his sad second Seder.

The Rabbi listened to the entire story and responded, "Perhaps, in the eyes of Heaven, your second Seder was superior to the first. At the first Seder you were proud and haughty. You were convinced that you were doing the Seder your way and it was better than anyone else. At your second Seder, you were humble and determined. Despite your disappointment you proceeded to fulfill the Ratzon Hashem (G-d's will) rather than your own will. You were a true eved Hashem (servant of G-d). You conducted the Seder simply because you knew it is a mitzvah to do so - even without intense emotional euphoria. What greater kavana (intent) could there be than this? That is indeed a wonderful praiseworthy thing."

Emotions are a tricky thing. What gives us the maximum emotional feeling, may not be best thing in terms of our true avodas Hashem (Divine service).

A man, whose father had just passed away, called Rabbi Avraham Ginsburg, Dean of Chofetz Chaim Yeshiva in Queens, NY, requesting that a group of Yeshiva students be sent to the funeral. It meant a lot to him that only the purest and holiest of men, handle his father’s burial.

Since this would involve taking the students away from their studies, Rabbi Ginsburg was forced to decline. He explained, “I know that you wish to make the greatest tribute to your father, but it would actually be a greater merit for your father to have these men continuing in their Torah studies, rather than having them miss out on their studies.”

Reb Yisroel Salanter was once in shul waiting to say kaddish for his father. In those days, only one mourner would say the kaddish and it was now Reb Yisroel’s turn. Another man was extremely agitated and he wanted to say the kaddish even though it wasn’t his turn. Reb Yisroel gave up his spot for this man.

Reb Yisroel explained later, “I very much wanted to say the kaddish for my beloved father and did not want to give up my turn; however, I considered the matter for a few moments and realized that it would be a greater merit for my father if I would do this chesed (kindness) in his honor, and allow an anguished fellow Jew a chance to find some serenity.”

Emotions are among the most important things we have – they allow us to be human. But if we let our emotions dictate everything to us, we may not always be led down the proper path.