Standard and individualized medicines

The Previous Rebbe explains:

In general, there are two types of medicines:

• A standard medicine that is already prepared, that the doctor can prescribe for a more wide-ranging or common disease. For example, there is a standard medicine prescribed for a person with a very high temperature or a very low temperature.

• A medicine prescribed for a specific illness only after the doctor has carefully examined the patient and determined his specific illness. This medicine must be prepared according to specific requirements, which takes time.

The same holds true of spiritual cures:

• There are spiritual sicknesses of a more typical nature, such as an intense desire for material indulgence, or a coldness and apathy to the holiness of Torah and Mitzvos. These conditions have certain standard cures, as described in the holy books of Mussar and Chassidus, and they can even be prescribed by a non-expert.

• Other spiritual sicknesses need to be correctly diagnosed by an expert spiritual guide, who will then prescribe the appropriate medicine. For those who suffer from these sicknesses, standard medicines will be ineffective.

Adapted from Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 28-29.

For some types of sicknesses, there is no need to visit the doctor. The symptoms are known, and the treatment is known—e.g., the common cold. However, an ailment that has unusual symptoms demands that one consult with a specialist, for otherwise not only will one not recover, but his state will steadily worsen.

Likewise, not every type of spiritual sickness requires that one consult with a spiritual mentor for guidance; although such consultation may well be advisable (but see note below), it is not necessarily crucial. If one is suffering from a clear-cut “textbook case” spiritual sickness, one can treat it oneself through using clearly defined spiritual prescriptions written in holy books.

For example, if forbidden thoughts enter one’s mind, one should not attempt to explain to oneself why such thoughts are detrimental; rather, one should simply distract oneself by focusing on other things, and especially thoughts of Torah (see here).

However, if one sees that one’s spiritual condition is in some way unusual, or one realizes that the “textbook advice” isn’t working, this indicates that one’s spiritual malady is more complex, and one must obtain an individualized prescription by consulting with an expert in spiritual healing—or, in Chassidic parlance, a mashpia.

However, it should be emphasized that a doctor and a mashpia are different in that in general, a doctor will diagnose the illness and prescribes the medicine, but will not give the patient a pep-talk about the importance of taking it. In contrast, a mashpia may well need to goad the one who has approached him for advice to actually implement that advice—see here.

Also, it is important to mention that, just as is the case with physical health, one may well be suffering from a spiritual sickness of which one is unaware, and which one needs intensive study of Chassidus under the guidance of a mashpia to discern, as explained here.

In summary, one should consult with a mashpia on a regular basis in order to receive inspiration, but if one’s spiritual illness is more “standard,” and one is sufficiently motivated to rectify the situation, although it is definitely worthy and advisable to consult with one’s mashpia, and one should do so in due course, one need not do so urgently. However, as soon as one realizes that the situation is more complex, such consultation is vital and cannot be delayed.

Marking a Yom Hillula

Today is the ninth of Kislev, the Yom Hillula of the Mitteler Rebbe. Why is it so important to mark a Yom Hillula of one of the Rebbeim? The Rebbe once said of this day:

In a letter, my father-in-law, the [Previous] Rebbe, explains the tremendous importance of utilizing the Yom Hillula of a tzaddik by studying Torah and taking part in a farbrengen. In this letter he describes the Yom Hillula of 9 Kislev, 5657 ... at which the Rebbe Rashab said: “Observing the tzaddik’s Yom Hillula by studying his teachings and by holding a farbrengen is the pidyon nefesh that we give him.”

It is easy to imagine that if there were an opportunity now to go to the Mitteler Rebbe and give him a pidyon nefesh, everyone would surely rush to do so.

Based on the above, we now indeed have the opportunity to hand a pidyon nefesh to the Mitteler Rebbe through the farbrengen that we are holding now, and by studying his teachings after the farbrengen, when everyone returns home. One should study a teaching from one of the works of the Mitteler Rebbe, whose Yom Hillula we are marking.

Toras Menachem 5711, Vol. 1, pp. 105-106.

The Rebbe is teaching us the tremendous importance and power of the tzaddik’s Yom Hillula, and that we tap into this by studying some of the teachings of that tzaddik and attending a farbrengen in his honor.

Moreover, this brings that tzaddik to davven on one’s behalf, just as a pidyon nefesh is a request for the tzaddik to davven on one’s behalf.

Self-sacrifice for Torah and Chassidus II

There are two types of self-sacrifice: Sacrificing the body and sacrificing the Neshama. In reality, sacrificing the latter is (or should be) much more difficult than sacrificing the former. Earlier we discussed this concept.

A striking example of one who took not only a physical risk, but a spiritual one, was Pinchas:

The Talmud Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin 9:7) states that Pinchas’ act of slaying Zimri was “against the will of the sages” to the point that they wanted to excommunicate him. The only reason they didnt was that he became possessed with the Holy Spirit, and declared that “He and his descendants after him will have a covenant of eternal priesthood” (Bamidbar 25:13).

This illustrates all the more the degree of Pinchas’ zeal. For until he became possessed of the Holy Spirit, he knew that what he had done was “against the will of the sages,” i.e., in the opinion of the sages of Torah, his behavior was baseless. His zeal was thus not only an act of self-sacrifice in terms of the body, but also in terms of the soul, because his act flouted the wishes of the sages to the extent that they attempted to excommunicate him.

In this vein, there are many stories of the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezeritch whose self-sacrifice was so great that they gave up their share in the World to Come for the welfare of a fellow Jew.

Likewise, there is a famous story of the Alter Rebbe: Once a manuscript of his Chassidus was burned, and he had written on it that one who would read it would be “excommunicated in this world and in the next.” And yet, after it had been burned, the Alter Rebbe sought to know if anyone had studied it. The Mitteler Rebbe asked: “Did you not write that one who would read it would be ‘excommunicated in this world and in the next’?” to which the Alter Rebbe responded: “Where is the self-sacrifice for Chassidus?!”

Adapted from Likkutei Sichos Vol. 18, pp. 319-320.

There are another two stories that express the principle of the importance of self-sacrifice for Chassidus, the first is a story of the Tzemach Tzedek and the Alter Rebbe:

When the Tzemach Tzedek was a child of nine, the Alter Rebbe would deliver a ma’amar on Friday nights in his private room. Despite repeated heartfelt pleas, the Tzemach Tzedek was not given permission to attend, and this pained him greatly. Yet he yearned so intensely to hear the ma’amar that he devised a solution.

In the adjoining room there was a large oven, and the outer wall of the oven was partly in the room in which the Alter Rebbe would sit and deliver the ma’amar on Friday nights. The Tzemach Tzedek would hide in the oven and hear the ma’amar of the Alter Rebbe, and this recurred for several weeks.

Once it was very cold, so the non-Jew was summoned to ignite the oven. He started putting in the wood, but despite the oven’s largeness, the wood wasn’t going in the oven so well. So he laid the wood closer to the opening of the oven, and ignited it. Shortly afterward the house became filled with smoke, so he began pushing the burning logs further in. But when he saw that this wasn’t working, he was forced to extinguish the logs and take them out in order to see why the wood wasn’t going into the oven until the wall. When he saw that a boy was in the oven, he cried out loudly. This was also heard in the room of the Alter Rebbe, and in the living area—everyone was shocked at the sound of the cry.

Since the house was only lit with a small candle, and the smoke of the wood that the non-Jew had extinguished was suffocating, it wasn’t possible to discern immediately the identity of the young boy in the oven. But they later saw that it was the Tzemach Tzedek, and discovered his ploy of hiding inside the oven. The Rebbetzin Rivka o.b.m. told the Previous Rebbe that she herself heard from the Rebbetzin Shaina o.b.m., who witnessed the response of her mother-in-law, the Rebbetzin Shterna o.b.m.:

When the boy was taken out of the oven, his appearance was frightful. My mother-in-law, the Rebbetzin Shterna, cried to my father-in-law, the Alter Rebbe: “See what could have been! What a misfortune! Other people you allow in, but when your own son pleaded, you did not allow it.” My father-in-law said: “Be quiet. Moshe Rabeinu came to Mount Sinai through a fire—seeing the flame in the bush—and merited to be the one to give the Torah. One can only take Torah with self-sacrifice. He will be healthy, and he will live a long life.”

Sefer HaMa’amarim 5708, p. 233-234.

The second is a story of Reb Avrohom Parizh:

It is told that in the year 5658 (1897-1898) the Rebbe Rashab wrote a commentary upon the discourse entitled Posach Eliyahu printed in the Alter Rebbe’s Torah Ohr; however, he did not allow it to be released to his followers.

When Reb Avrohom Parizh, still a student in the Lubavitcher Yeshivah, Tomchei Temimim, learned of this manuscript, he was consumed with a desire to study it. He found the suitable opportunity to sneak in and take it, and recruited Reb Chaim Lieberman, a fellow student, to write a copy of the manuscript. Once this task was completed, he returned it to its place.

Reb Avrohom did not keep it to himself; he shared the copy with other students. They all guarded the secret carefully, and ensured that it wouldn’t become known to the Rebbe Rashab or his son, the Previous Rebbe, then the main administrator of the Yeshivah.

However, the Previous Rebbe once asked a student what he had been studying in Chassidus, and the student responded that he had been studying Rebbe Rashab’s Hagahos L’dibbur Ha’maschil Posach Eliyahu 5658. After investigation, the culprits were discovered.

Although at the time they received a penalty, the Rebbe related (Sichos Kodesh, Bamidbar 5729) that the Rebbe Rashab later commented of the incident, “May blessing come upon him, and if only others would also steal.”

Echad Haya Avraham, pp. 22-23.

Self-sacrifice for Torah and Chassidus I

What is the lesson from the fact that Yaakov tricked Yitzchok? The Rebbe explains:

The Rebbetzin Rivka was one of the ones who would copy the manuscripts of the Rebbe Maharash.

The Rebbe Maharash was very organized, and his exact schedule was known, including the times in which he would go for a stroll. Some [chassidim] would sneak in during his stroll, after leaving a guard to inform them of his return, and would copy his manuscripts of Chassidus. In this way they copied numerous manuscripts. One of the copyists was the Rebbetzin Rivka.

The Previous Rebbe would hold the Rebbetzin Rivka’s transcripts of the manuscripts of the Rebbe Maharash in one folder along with the transcriptions of the Rebbe Rashab.

The Previous Rebbe, my father-in-law, related that this is also the way he behaved with his father, the Rebbe Rashab. ...

This seems difficult to understand. The Rebbe Maharash probably estimated, and perhaps even knew for certain, that they were copying his manuscripts while he would travel, for he knew the Rebbe Rashab and how much he yearned for manuscripts of Chassidus. So if he didn’t want them to copy his manuscripts, he could have secured them in a way that it would be impossible to copy them. And if he did wanted them to copy his manuscripts, he could have given permission.

The same question can be asked concerning the manuscripts that the Previous Rebbe copied from the Rebbe Rashab. Why did it need to happen in such a way, without permission?

Rivka convinced Yaakov to go to Yitzchak and pretend to be Esav in order to receive the firstborn blessings. Chassidus asks: why was it necessary for the blessings to Yaakov to come through deception?

The reason for this is that in this way Yaakov rectified the sin of the Tree of Knowledge. The serpent used deception to bring Adam and Chava to sin, and this caused certain sublime sparks of holiness to fall into the forces of Kelipah. Thus, the way to reclaim these sparks was through deception, as it is written, “ With the crooked be cunning” (Tehillim 18:27).

This was the reason that when Rivka told Yaakov to go and receive the blessings from Yitzchak, she consoled him by saying that if any curse might come upon him through acting deceptively, it will be transferred to her. What kind of consolation was this?! Every son, and surely Yaakov, is concerned for his mother, loves her dearly and would not have allowed her to become cursed either! Moreover, we see that upon hearing this, Yaakov indeed stopped protesting and obeyed Rivka. Why did this argument convince him?

The Kabbalistic texts explain that Yaakov was spiritually similar to Adam, and this is why he was assigned with the task of rectifying Adam’s sin. Since Adam’s sin was the result of deception, the way for Yaakov to rectify it and ensure that Esav not receive the blessings was to use deception to claim the blessings, as it is written: “Your brother came with deception and took your blessing” (Bereshis 27:35).

Since this involved refining a level that transcends intellect (or is lower than intellect, as is the case with the sin of the Tree of Knowledge), one must receive it in a manner commensurate with the nature of this level. Thus, one cannot access this level in the normal manner, through intellect, but through displaying a willingness to sacrifice oneself, and risk one’s life. This is what Rivka meant when she said that “your curse will befall me, my son” (ibid. 27:13)—she declared that she was willing to risk her life as well, for this was the only way to accomplish their goal. This argument succeeded at persuading Yaakov to endanger himself in the same way.

The same is true of Torah in general, for Yitzchok’s blessings to Yaakov were related to Torah (Bereishis Rabba 66:3). It is all the more true of the inner dimension of Torah, as was the case concerning the copying of manuscripts of Chassidus. There is a higher level that one reaches through holy deception, without the knowledge of the giver, and through an approach of self-sacrifice on the part of the recipient (to endanger himself by doing something that might make the Rebbe upset with him [“kepeida”]).

Adapted from Toras Menachem 5711, Vol. 1, p. 221-222-223.
See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 1, pp. 55-56.

We may pledge allegiance to the very lofty, holy cause of Torah and Chassidus. But since this involves eliciting a level so sublime that is completely beyond us, in order to truly attain it, we need to make a sacrifice, take a risk, do something different, uncomfortable, difficult, even painful.

We need to ask ourselves: Our Rebbeim, and the chassidim of earlier generations, had such tremendous devotion and self-sacrifice for this sublime cause. How much are we giving up for it, each person on his or her own level?

(See here for further explanation.)

How can evil come from G-d?

There is an age-old question: how can evil emanate from an All-Good Creator?

The key to answering this question is understanding the concept of divine speech. What does the verse mean when it says, “G-d said, ‘let there be ... ’” during the six days of creation? Of course, G-d has no mouth, lips, or vocal chords with which to speak, as it is one of the 13 Principles of the Torah (as famously formulated by Maimonides), that G-d possesses no form. If so, in what sense can it be said that divine creation resembles the process of human speech?

Furthermore, if an analogy is employed from the physical realm, why is it specifically written that G-d spoke, and not that He thought, or another metaphor?

This can be understood from the Kabbalah, which develops this analogy: In speech one communicates his inner thoughts to another person. He accomplishes this via the combination of different words, which in turn consist of the combination of different letters, all carefully arranged.

Similarly, G-d sought to create an entity that would feel itself to be separate from Him (although in reality “There is nothing else” but G-d—Devarim 4:35). Thus, creation is compared to speech, and this is the meaning of G-d’s statements, “Let there be ... ” in the account of the Creation. There were altogether ten such utterances, with which the entire universe was created. Moreover, the Baal Shem Tov teaches that these utterances are constantly recreating everything in existence.

But if these utterances created everything, why are only certain creatures listed, and the vast majority omitted? Why are rocks, for instance, not mentioned?

The answer, as explained in the Tanya, a classic Chasidic text, is that these utterances were only intended to create vast cosmic forces. For instance, the utterance “Let there be a firmament” created the general division between the firmament and the earth, but not the details of those entities. Similarly, “Let the earth put forth plants” imbued within the earth the general potential to produce plant life; it did not create individual plants. And so on.

Thus, the divine energy in these utterances was far too intense for individual creations, such as rocks, to contain. The only way to create these creatures was for G-d to diminish the intensity of the utterances to the point that the individual creations could handle the energy received.

Here we return to the analogy of speech. If one wishes to communicate in a hidden way, one will encode one’s words. Although this is a meaningful form of communication, one’s intention is hidden. Only the code can uncover the encoder’s intention.

Similarly, G-d diminished the tremendous spiritual energy of the Ten Utterances by “encoding” them in various ways. In fact, the Hebrew name of each particular object is the life-force of that object, after having been “encoded.”

Specifically, there are three ways that the intensity of this life-force in the Ten Utterances can be reduced, each one “encoding” successively more than the previous one:

1. Rearranging the letters of the word into a different word.

2. The Sefer Yetzira (Book of Formation), which is an ancient kabbalistic text, explains that there are 231 “gates” through which each of the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet is substituted for all the other letters. How does this work? Each of the 22 letters can be substituted for another 21 letters, equalling a total of 462 possible permutations. However, this figure is halved to 231 because the same two letters can be substituted forwards and backwards. For instance, thealeph, the first letter, can be substituted for a beis, the second letter, and vice versa. Together, the forwards and backwards substitutions are called a “gate,” another way in which G-d substitutes the Hebrew letters.

3. Each letter of the Hebrew alphabet corresponds to a number. Thus, a word or phrase has a certain numerical value, and can be substituted for another with the same value.

But why is the analogy of speech used, and not thought? Doesn’t thought also contain letters and words, like speech? The difference is that thought is an internal phenomenon, on its own not accessible to others. In contrast, G-d’s creation of the world involved connecting with forces that regard themselves as external to Him. That’s why this process is compared to speech, which involves going out of oneself and communicating to others.

This answers our original question. Evil is the result of diminution after diminution of the divine life-force—encoding after encoding. On a deeper level, evil too exists by virtue of the divine sustaining energy within it, as in all creatures. But from the perspective of man, this energy is so hidden that not only does he not see it, but he sees the opposite: a force that disobeys and rejects G-d.

Evil exists in order to tempt us. Thus, by overcoming the temptation to evil we reveal the purpose behind it. We thus also reveal the inner truth that the source of life of the evil force is the divine energy constantly recreating it.

The impact of Mitzvos on the world

There are four possible states of holiness in an object with which a Mitzvah is performed. In order of least to greatest:

1. the raw components of the object before it has been prepared or designated for a Mitzvah, at which point there is no holiness—such as the paper that one may use for a Torah book;
   
   
2. once the object has been fully prepared or designated for Mitzvah use it has become sanctified to a certain degree—such as a Torah book that has been printed, but has not yet been studied;
   
   
3. an object that has been used for a Mitzvah, which is fit to be used again, is all the more holy—such as a Torah book that has been studied;
   
   
4. the most intense state of holiness in the object is present during Mitzvah performance—such as a Torah book while it is being studied.

Being aware of these states of holiness in the objects around us enables us to be sensitive to this holiness in our day-to-day life.

Adapted from the Frierdiker Rebbe’s Reshimas Chag HaShavuos 5675, with references and explanatory notes from the Rebbe.

Moshe Holtzberg's message

The news of the capture of the Holtzberg’s child, Moshe, and then his miraculous rescue, was particularly poignant for my family, for we too have a Moishe’le (an affectionate way of saying Moshe), and he is only around seven months older. He too has brownish hair and looks, well, cute. It is all so real.

As a survivor of terror Moshe Holtzberg is unfortunately not unique. However, his case is unusual in that his dramatic liberation was widely publicized in all major media outlets, making him perhaps the most famous child victim of terror in history. Likewise, his heartrending cries for his mother at the commemoration service for his parents in the Shul in Mumbai were then captured on video and publicized on prime-time news. ­­­­He has thus become the poster child for all child victims of terror worldwide, and a prominent reminder of the reality of their plight.

What does this mean for us, we who live so comfortably in the western world, where terrorism is generally something we read about in the news, and not an immediate concern?

Of course, those in a position to assist these orphans in any way possible should do so.

Beyond that, let us cultivate the quality of gratitude to G–d in our personal lives, and for our most precious possession—our children. Never should we take them for granted.

G–d has entrusted us with them, and we ought to fulfill our duty to Him and them faithfully. Let us value our children, and make our children feel valued.

Not only must we realize how blessed we are to have children, we must realize how blessed our children are to have parents. For even more than parents need children, children need parents. Let us be the best parents that we can.

First and foremost, this involves setting a sterling example of the noble values and refined lifestyle that we preach to them.

On a more direct level this involves spending more time with our children, making them feel loved and special, and guiding them gently but firmly on the proper path.

With patience and fortitude, goodness will triumph over evil, the light will dispel the darkness, and we will succeed at bringing the age of the Moshiach, when all evil and suffering will disappear forever. May it happen immediately.

The joy of Rosh Chodesh Kislev

Chassidim have traditionally celebrated Rosh Chodesh Kislev with tremendous joy. But what exactly is the reason for joy of Rosh Chodesh Kislev? Is it that the Rebbe recovered? That was definitely a significant element, but it would seem that that was not the entire reason, for although the Rebbe left the office in 770 where he had been undergoing medical treatment, the Rebbe had not yet fully recovered. Indeed, the Rebbe never recited the traditional blessing one recites after recovering from a sickness.

Rather, ever since Shemini Atzeres, although the chassidim hadn’t seen the Rebbe and they were unable to connect with him directly, they knew that the Rebbe was still with them. However, this knowledge wasn’t enough; their greatest yearning was to see the Rebbe again. And when they did, their joy was so great that of their own initiative they decided to celebrate that day every year, and eat a special meal of thanks to Hashem, both on account of the Rebbe’s recovery, and for enabling the chassidim to see the Rebbe again.

We can also see the intense yearning that a chossid should have to see his Rebbe from the example that the Rebbe set for us at the conclusion of his first ma’amar, when he wished: “Ve’nizkeh zehn zich mit’n Reb’n doh lematoh in a guf, u’lematoh mei’asoroh tefochim, v’hu yigaleinu.” “May we merit to see the [Previous] Rebbe down here in a body, and in our immediate reality, and he will redeem us.”

In our current situation, we are waiting for our Rosh Chodesh Kislev. We know that the Rebbe is with us, showering us with blessings, guidance, encouragement, now just as before Gimmel Tammuz. Those who are attuned—not because they have divine inspiration, but because they study the Rebbe’s teachings diligently, and are devoted to fulfilling the Rebbe’s instructions—sense these blessings, guidance, and encouragement in their personal lives. We witness the tremendous expansion and development of the Rebbe’s work and message throughout the world, and we are confident that the Rebbe is guiding us in our mission to prepare the world for Moshiach.

Yet we are not satisfied. “Retzoneinu liros es malkeinu”—“we want to see our king.” And we draw strength and hope from the miracles that Hashem showed us then: Just as the Rebbe was hidden, and the chassidim were strong in their faith and trust in Hashem, and worked hard to make themselves worthy of seeing the Rebbe again, and were successful, so can it be for us, and so will it be for us. May it occur immediately!

The Mumbai Chabad House massacre: A Jewish response

It has been a year since our brethren were slain in Mumbai. So how should we, as Jews, respond to the Mumbai attacks, considering the fact that they deliberately targeted Jews? A natural response is one of fear. Fear that perhaps it could happen again. And who knows where ... ? G–d forbid.

However, although fear may seem logical, it must be quashed at all costs, for this is exactly what the terrorists want. Their goal is to strike fear and terror into our hearts, so we think that they have power over us. Then they will have won.

However, the key to overcoming this fear is to recognize that the terrorists’ arrogant show of power is a sham, and they are powerless. Hashem runs the world, and every minute aspect of it. This massacre happened because He willed it so, for reasons that we do not understand. These monstrous brutes do not control the world; only Hashem controls it, and therefore it is wrong to fear any man.

So we must mourn, and yet we must not allow ourselves to become weakened and discouraged. Rather, we should turn mourning into resolute action. But what sort of action? For that, we turn to the Torah, for, as the Rebbe taught us countless times, the Torah is a Toras chaim, a “Torah of life” that provides us with guidance in our daily lives. We must seek a Jewish response. It would also be fitting to seek this response in the Torah portion of Toldos, which was read when the attack occurred.

In that Torah portion we find it written, “The voice is the voice of Yaakov, but the hands are the hands of Eisav” (Bereishis 27:22). The Midrash Rabba (Eicha 2; cf. Zohar 1:171a) interprets this to mean that when Yaakov, i.e., the Jewish people, use their voices to study Torah in the study hall and pray in the synagogues, the hands of Eisav, our enemies, have no power. However, when Yaakov does not use his voice to study Torah, the hands of Eisav are empowered to attack us. Along these lines, the Gemoro says, “Get up early and leave late against them to the study hall, and they will perish of their own” (Gittin 7a).

Of course, those who are able to influence governments and law enforcement agencies to crack down on terrorism should surely do so, because Hashem also requires us to make a vessel for safety according to the natural order. When the lives of our fellow Jews are taken or in danger, those in a position to do so must ensure that everything possible is done to thwart the enemy’s designs. However, the primary Jewish response to the Nazis, PLO, Hamas, and the Mumbai murderers, may all their names be blotted out, is the same: To increase in Torah study oneself, and in disseminating Torah knowledge and its observance to others.

This would be the appropriate response to any such tragedy. However, it is an especially relevant response in this case, considering the holy mission to which the Holtzbergs had selflessly devoted their lives: Spreading Torah and Mitzvos, and the wellsprings of Chassidus. This is surely their legacy to us.

May our increase in learning and disseminating Torah bring merit to their souls, and bring Moshiach now.

The Holtzbergs: Kiddush Hashem in life and in death

Rabbi Holtzberg and family in Memento Shots from COLlive.com on Vimeo.

We are nearing the first yahrtzeit of Rabbi Gavriel and Rebbetzin Rivkah Holtzberg, who were cruelly slain by vile terrorists almost a year ago.

By devoting their lives to spreading Yiddishkeit and Chassidus, the Holtzbergs made a kiddush Hashem, a sanctification of G–d’s Name.

In their death too, they made a kiddush Hashem, for whenever Jews are murdered simply because they are Jews, they are said to have died al kiddush Hashem, for the sanctification of G–d’s Name. And clearly, the terrorists’ intent was to attack Jews. The Chabad House was the most prominent Jewish target in the city of Mumbai, for although there are other shules, they are rarely visited. The main Jewish center in the city, with a rabbi and thriving activities, was the Chabad House. Even the terrorists knew this, so in their craven, obscene desire for barbaric bloodshed, the Chabad House was the place that they targeted.

But the Holtzbergs sanctified G–d’s Name in their death in another very significant sense. On account of them the entire world came to know what is a Chabad House. It is a place where Shluchim, emissaries of the Rebbe, devote their lives to helping Jews materially and spiritually, even in the most poor conditions, and the most far-flung and unholy places. I think it can be said with certainty that the work of the Shluchim had never received anywhere near this degree of publicity. Over the course of the Mumbai attack virtually every single media outlet in the world discussed, whether briefly or at greater length, who the Holtzbergs were and the noble life that they had lived. Of the outreach rabbi and his wife who devoted their lives to help others in such a remote location. Of the work of the Shluchim worldwide. This is surely a tremendous privilege for them, and brings tremendous elevation to their souls.

May their blood be avenged.

Proudly promoting exclusively Jewish ownership of the Tomb of the Patriarchs

This week’s Parsha discusses Avraham’s purchase of the Cave of Machpelah, a.k.a. the Tomb of the Patriarchs. How does one respond to Arabs who claim rights over it? The Rebbe explains:

When the descendants of Yishmael approach us with the claim that the Cave of Machpelah belongs to them, for they trace their lineage to Avraham[1], this week’s Torah portion[2] provides us with a clear response:

1) It is well known that the vast majority of the Arabs now living in the countries neighboring the Land of Israel do not descend from Yishmael.[3]

2) Moreover, Yishmael himself has no connection to the Cave of Machpelah, for Avraham bought it in order to bury Sarah.[4] Yishmael was not Avraham’s heir, and certainly not Sarah’s heir. Thus, it belongs only to Sarah’s son Yitzchok, and to Yitzchok’s descendants, who are traced only through Yaakov.[5]

The conclusion of this week’s Torah portion teaches us another point:

When a time comes that [the descendants of] Yishmael becomes wild, and approaches us with wild claims and demands, the Jewish people should not become afraid, G–d forbid, or discouraged. We must merely remind Yishmael of the truth: His existence is defined by his being “born of Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah’s maidservant, for Avraham.”[6] However, if he begins to hold himself as an independent entity, and not as the son of Sarah’s maidservant, he will “fall amongst all his brothers.”[7]

Gentiles also believe in the Written Law. Thus, when the Jew is sufficiently confident of the above, and explains it to the Gentile using appropriate language, but in a clear, open manner (there is certainly no need to become dejected, G–d forbid, before the Gentiles, and certainly not before those who consider themselves descendants of Yishmael) they will stop applying pressure upon the Jewish people.

They too will sense (especially by “their mazal seeing”[8]) that for their own welfare the Cave of Machpelah, and the entire land of Israel with all its borders, should be openly, even during the era of exile, completely in the possession of the Jewish people.

Likutei Sichos, Vol. 15, pp. 153-154.

[1] Avraham is buried in this cave.

[2] This Torah portion is known as Chayei Sarah. See Bereshis 23-25:18.
[3] See Ibn Ezra on Bereshis 27:40.
[4] Bereshis ch. 23.
[5] See Likutei Sichos, ibid., p. 149.
[6] Nedarim 31a explains the extra “in” in Bereshis 21:12, “For in Yitzchak your seed will be called” as meaning that not all of Yitzchak’s seed is to be considered Avraham’s—only Yitzchok’s son Yaakov, and not Esav.
[7] Bereshis 25:12.
[8] ibid. 25:18.
[9] I.e., the spiritual source of their souls senses the spiritual reality without the person being consciously aware; this then affects the level of the Gentiles’ soul vested in a body. See Megillah 3a.

The Rebbe states clearly: The Jewish people should declare and publicize unapologetically that according to the “Bible,” even if the Arabs are descended from Yishmael, they have no claim to the Cave of Machpelah, and thus the Jewish people must be allowed to hold exclusive control over it. When we say this confidently but respectfully, non-Jews will surely accept it.

Practically speaking, most of the Cave of Machpelah is currently under the control of the Arab “wakf,” the Islamic trust. By far the largest section of the Cave of Machpelah, known as Isaac’s Hall, is maintained as a mosque for the entire year except for 10 days (click on the red dots here to see what’s what), with Jews forbidden from entry, while an area over three times smaller, known as the Hall of Yaakov and Leah, is maintained as a shule for the entire year, with Muslims forbidden from entry, except for 10 days, in which Muslims are allowed in and Jews are not.

Why, you may ask, when the Cave of Machpelah is under Jewish military control, have the Jews ceded control of the vast majority of their second most holy site to the Muslims? My understanding of the reason for this situation is that when the holy city of Chevron was liberated after the Six-Day War (after it being forbidden for Jews to enter there for over seven hundred years), the Jewish people, and in particular its political leaders, did not enthusiastically declare the entire place a Jewish synagogue. In fact, they barely allowed any entry, and it was only through great political wrangling that Jews have the degree of access that they do today.

Jews must campaign to have the entire area transformed into a shule.

Although this would have meant transforming it from a mosque, this would have been no different from the way it became a mosque in the first place—when the Muslims conquered it from from the Christians, who had turned it into a church, which happened twice.

Following news of the Holy Land

Earlier we quoted from the Rebbe concerning reading the newspaper in general. However, the question then arises: what about reading the news concerning the goings-on in the Holy Land?

In my humble opinion, it depends. Some read the news with the desire to be “up with the latest,” in order to demonstrate to others how cultured and informed they are, and how well they can hold their own in a political discussion or debate; because they don’t want people to think less of them because they aren’t informed; and worst, for its entertainment value. In these cases, following the news is definitely not serving any constructive purpose. A Jew’s life should be focused on learning Torah and serving Hashem, and all these things only serve as a distraction from that (and worse), as explained in the post linked to above.

In contrast, one who feels a genuine desire to share in the sorrows of one’s fellow Jews, and reads the news concerning one’s brethren in order to know what to davven for, and to arouse oneself to Teshuva when appropriate over a feeling of personal responsibility (see here) for what has occurred, then perhaps reading these news reports from time to time would be appropriate. (However, for this it would seem that one need only know the general situation, not every minute detail.)

How indeed does one discern whether his desire to listen to the news stems from a pure or impure motive? I propose (loosely based on the sicha below) that this can be determined from his response. If after reading about the latest Arab attack or expulsion of Jews from their homes by the Israeli government (may G–d save us) the reader feels distressed and moved to davven for the plight of these Jews, or energized to increase in his Torah study, davvenen, and performance of Mitzvos, in order to reduce the power of the enemy, this shows that his time was well spent. But if he reads with a sense of detached intellectual curiosity, then perhaps his time would be better spent in other pursuits that he is certain are constructive.

... Although it is always the right time to discuss strengthening Torah and Mitzvos, starting from teaching Torah to Jewish children, there are times when it is of even greater importance. When there is a tumult in which the gentiles challenge the Jewish people [referring to UN condemnations of Jewish actions in the Land of Israel], we know that G–d will surely protect us, [as it is written]: “Contrive a scheme, but it will be foiled; conspire a plot, but it will not materialize, for G-d is with us” [Yeshayah 8:10].

But we also know that then we need to strengthen “The voice is the voice of Yaakov” [i.e., Torah study—Bereishis 27:22]. Since “the hands are the hands of Esav” [i.e., hostility against the Jewish people] has increased, we need to increase manyfold in “The voice is the voice of Yaakov,” and with even greater intensity than at a normal time [see Pesikta to Eicha Rabba, 2].

Beginning of sicha of Yud Shevat, 5736.

Connecting to all the Rebbeim—via the Rebbe

As discussed earlier, the Rebbe makes a point of referring to all the Rebbeim as Raboseinu Nesi’einu, our Rebbeim and Nesi’im. It is notable that the Rebbe made this concept very practically relevant in a way that was not done in previous generations by holding a farbrengen in many years on both the birthday and the Yom Hillula (day of passing) of the earlier Rebbeim, and by singing the niggunim associated with all the Rebbeim at important farbrengens (Rosh Hashonoh, and in later years, 19 Kislev).

As the Rebbe puts it in connection with the Yom Hillula of the Rebbe Maharash:

Although there were several Nesi’im after the Rebbe Maharash, “Holiness doesn’t depart from its place” (cf. Eitz Chaim 4:3, 34:3), and this applies all the more when the holy matters being referred to are the accomplishments of a Nosi, which have a special quality. His accomplishments during his lifetime thus surely have an ongoing impact on all future generations ... and this is particularly true each year on his Yom Hillula.

Hisva’aduyos 5744, Vol. 1, p. 146.

The Rebbe raised the question: Is it not written “A generation may [only] have one leader” (Rashi, Devarim 31:7)? The Rebbe did not answer this question on that occasion.

However, in a farbrengen delivered in honor of the Yom Hillula of the Mitteler Rebbe, the Rebbe provides the answer to this question.

The Rebbe cited the Frierdiker Rebbe’s words that when one attends a farbrengen on the Yom Hillula of a Tzaddik, this is like handing a pan to that Rebbe. Then the Rebbe continues:

It ought to be clarified that in no way does this contradict our Hiskashrus [bond] with my father-in-law, the [Previous] Rebbe, who is the Nosi of our generation, for the Hiskashrus with the Mitteler Rebbe that is effected through handing over a pan is to the Mitteler Rebbe as he is subsumed in my father-in-law, the [Previous] Rebbe, the Nosi of our generation.

... Each of the Rebbeim is a luminary [which is in fact one, unchanging luminary], and yet each Rebbe had his own unique quality, in according with his level in the Sefiros. As is known, the Baal Shem Tov corresponds to Atik, the Maggid of Mezeritch to Arich, the Alter Rebbe to Chochmah, the Mitteler Rebbe to Binah, and so on.

The Previous Rebbe, the luminary of our generation, includes all the luminaries—the Baal Shem Tov, the Maggid, the Alter Rebbe, the Mitteler Rebbe, the Tzemach Tzedek, the Rebbe Maharash, and the Rebbe Rashab—for he accomplishes all the things that they accomplished in their time.

Thus, now [on the Yom Hillula of the Mitteler Rebbe] we ought to bind ourselves with the luminary of the Mitteler Rebbe as he is included in the luminary of our generation, my father-in-law, the [Previous] Rebbe.

Toras Menachem 5711, Vol. 1, pp. 105-106.

In summary, on the one hand, in a certain sense all of the Rebbeim are our Rebbeim now. At the same time, the current Rebbe—for us, the Rebbe—is the primary Rebbe, and thus in order to connect ourselves with the Previous Rebbeim, we need to do so via our Rebbe, who embodies all the Previous Rebbeim.

Practically speaking, what does this mean? Perhaps one significant way of accomplishing this (in addition to learning from the teachings of that Previous Rebbe on the special day associated with him, as the Rebbe has instructed us many times) is to make a point of learning what the Rebbe said in connection with that particular birthday, yom hageula (day of release), or Yom Hillula.

The power of audio for bonding with the Rebbe

Earlier we discussed the tremendous potential for Kedusha that lies in modern audio technology.

This technology is particularly beneficial for chassidim, who should make a point of regularly learning our Rebbe’s teachings. It enables those who understand Yiddish (see here) to listen to the Rebbe speak directly, without the intermediate stage of a transcript, which although faithful to the original, may still lose much in translation.

Moreover, through listening to audio one can be inspired emotionally by the Rebbe’s holy sichos in a way that would not be possible through studying the transcripts (edited or unedited) of his sichos.

As the Rebbe said many times, “Words that emanate from the heart will penetrate the heart” (Sefer HaYashar of Rabeinu Tam #313) and have their desired impact. The Rebbe Rashab explains (Sefer HaMa’amarim 5671, p. 44) that this is referring specifically to spoken words, for since they are uttered with passion and enthusiasm, they have a special power to penetrate the heart.

Moreover, Chassidus explains (see ibid.; Sefer HaMa’amarim 5666, p. 493; Toras Menachem 5713, Vol. 1, p. 254) that speech stems from the essence of the soul, as it is written, “his soul went forth in his speech” (“נפשי יצאה בדברו”—Shir HaShirim 5:6). (Unfortunately this also holds true in the negative sense, for the deepest evil traits in a person are revealed specifically through vile speech—see Sefer HaMa’amarim 5670 p. 21).

So to “translate” this to listening to the Rebbe: Since emotions are expressed in speech, the Rebbe’s holy emotions—faith in Hashem, love and fear of Hashem, love of Torah, love of his fellow Jew, and so on—are surely expressed in his speech. And since all the Rebbe’s words surely “emanate from the heart,” listening to his words surely has a special power to “penetrate the heart” of the listener. Moreover, since spoken words stem from the essence of the soul, it follows that listening to the Rebbe speaking has the power to connect the listener to the essence of the Rebbe’s soul.

Using audio technology was always a very important way to bond with the Rebbe, even before Gimmel Tammuz, back in the day of cassette tapes. However, it is obviously vital after Gimmel Tammuz, when, due to our many sins, we are no longer able to hear the Rebbe speak physically.

Although hearing the Rebbe’s holy words directly and physically is surely likely to have the greatest impact on one’s feelings, in the meantime it surely behoves us to take advantage of the technology available to maintain our bond with the Rebbe as much as possible despite his having been concealed from us, albeit temporarily.

And this will prepare us to see and hear him address us again, and reveal to one and all the most sublime and sweet secrets of Torah, may it happen now!

Don't "cut" and "stretch" Mitzvos

This week’s parsha, Vayera, discusses the people of Sodom. In Sodom, a bed was prepared for weary guests to rest. However, when the guest would lie down, the “host” would make sure that he fit the bed perfectly. A short man was stretched to fit it, while a tall man’s legs were cut to size (Sanhedrin 109b).

The Rebbe makes reference to this horrific practice, and explains that when one minimizes the importance of some Mitzvos or inappropriately exaggerates others, one treats the Mitzvos in a similar way:

Every single Jew—not only a select group, but even the simplest of Jews, those in the category of “your woodchoppers and water-drawers”[1]—should engage in activities to influence gentiles to adhere to the Noahide Code.

On the other hand, it ought to be pointed out that this even applies to those in leadership positions [over Jews]. Someone in the category of “the heads of your tribes” is liable to think: “For a layman, someone in the category of ‘your woodchoppers and water-drawers,’ influencing gentiles is a noble thing. But for someone with the status of ‘the heads of your tribes,’ in the position to spend the entire day engaged in Torah study and observance of the Mitzvos, or in Jewish communal service, which is a very lofty form of divine service, why should he engage in something as ordinary as influencing gentiles?”

The response to this is based upon the Talmudic statements, “Be as careful with a light Mitzvah as with a severe one,”[2] and “Do not sit and weigh up the Mitzvos of the Torah.”[3] In other words, there is indeed a difference between the “light” and the “severe” Mitzvos.[4] Nevertheless, in the sense that they are all “the Mitzvos of the Torah,” they are all equal, and it is completely unacceptable to differentiate between them.

To explain further: The Mitzvos of the Torah express the will of G–d; thus, by fulfilling them we fulfill the will of G–d. This principle is expressed in the verse [concerning sacrifices], “It is gratifying for Me that I have spoken and My will was done.”[5] Thus, the differences between the Mitzvos, whether they are light or severe, are only relevant to reward and punishment, and the like. However, insofar as the central, primary aspect of Mitzvos is concerned—that they are the will of G–d—it is impossible to differentiate between a light and a severe Mitzvah. ...

Moreover, the very thought to use human reason to decide which Mitzvos to follow and not to follow, G–d forbid, is shocking in the first place. How could a person think to calculate and decide—reminiscent of the “bed” used in Sodom—his conduct and efforts in matters of the Torah and its Mitzvos on the basis of his biased human intellect?!

Thus, one’s obligation to observe the Torah’s 613 Mitzvos—including Maimonides’ ruling that one should influence gentiles—applies uniformly to all the Mitzvos. Furthermore, this principle holds true for simple laymen and leaders alike.

Hisva’aduyos 5743, Vol. 3, pp. 1213-1214 (emphasis added).

[1] Devarim 29:10. This verse lists a hierarchy of Jews, from “the heads of your tribes [i.e., the leaders],” to the “woodchoppers and water-drawers.”
[2] Avos 2:1.
[3] Devarim Rabba 6:2.
[4] An example of a “light Mitzvah” may be the prohibition to eat before Maariv (the evening prayer), whereas the prohibition of eating chametz (unleavened bread) on Pesach could be classified as a “severe Mitzvah.”
[5] Rashi, Vayikra 1:9.

Sometimes we “stretch” some Mitzvos and “chop away” others. We embrace passionately ideas and directives of Torah that we find personally exciting and attractive, but neglect those that we find less appealing, never mind those that we have great difficulty accepting and implementing.

And then “one sin brings another in its wake” (Avos 4:2), and this degenerates further. What was at first an emotional aversion becomes rationalized into an opinion and a shita, a philosophy.

What does this stem from? This person lacks the sense that Torah, although it was revealed in a way comprehensible to the human mind, is essentially an objective revelation from Above and is thus completely not subject to our subjective desires. Via the Torah Hashem tells us what He wants of us, and we are granted the freedom to accept or reject His command. Yet even if we choose to reject His words, they remain, timeless and absolute, unchanged by our foolishness.

However, in order to ensure that our limited, biased human mind grasps correctly what Hashem wants, before it is applied to Torah study, one must bring oneself to a state of bittul, humility. For otherwise one may, perhaps even unintentionally, come to twist and distort His will, remaking Hashem in one’s own image, chas vesholom.

The inner—not hidden—dimension of Torah

The Rebbe taught:

As pnimiyus HaTorah [the “inner dimension” of Torah] is revealed more and more, the connection between the nigleh [“revealed”] and pnimiyus dimensions of Torah becomes more and more apparent, and the opposition of the opponents to Chassidus steadily diminishes.

Toras Menachem 5712, Vol. 5, p. 144.

Why is there a correlation between revealing the connection between nigleh and pnimiyus HaTorah and diminishing the opposition to Chassidus?

Perhaps this can be explained as follows. although they may admit on some level that it is a part of Torah, those who oppose the study of Chassidus regard it, whether consciously or subconsciously, as separate and distant from the “traditional” Torah that they know, which they view as “normative”—the nigleh dimension of Torah.

However, when they are shown that the pnimiyus is in fact the pnimiyus of the nigleh that they already know and value, they then come to accept the pnimiyus and even desire to study it.

Perhaps this can be tied to the fact that the Rebbe never uses the expressions that have traditionally been employed for “Jewish mysticism”—sod, the secret dimension of Torah, or nistar, the hidden dimension of Torah.

This choice of language was clearly deliberate, as is evident from the following anecdote: Once a rabbi remarked to the Rebbe that he did not consider himself on the level to study the nistar dimension of Torah. To this the Rebbe responded (and the Rebbe estimated that this rabbi would be able to accept this sharp rebuke): “The reason that this part of Torah is called nistar—on account of which people refrain from studying it—is because of you. For if you would agree to study it, even the nistar dimension of Torah would become nigleh!” (Toras Menachem 5712, Vol. 4, p. 236)

So this appears to be the reason that the Rebbe prefers the expression pnimiyus HaTorah. The other expressions imply that this dimension of Torah is supposed to be hidden, while the expression pnimiyus HaTorah implies the opposite—that this dimension is the pnimiyus of the nigleh. On the contrary, it is the nigleh that develops organically from the nistar, with which it is inextricably and symbiotically bound.

Although the other expressions were used by gedolei Yisroel [great Torah scholars], these expressions were appropriate in past times when this part of Torah was supposed to be hidden. Nowadays, however, when we have been charged with the mission of “disseminating the wellsprings [of Chassidus] outward,” the Rebbe has revealed to us that the appropriate term to use is pnimiyus HaTorah.

Complementary roles: rav and mashpia

In the Lubavitcher community we speak of a rav and a mashpia, and they they both refer to a mentor. Yet although the two terms are similar and often used interchangeably, I believe it is important and advisable to make a point of distinguishing between them. It may come as a surprise to some, but these are separate roles, and should therefore be clearly understood as such so they can both be taken advantage of as appropriate.

The former term, rav (from the expression of the Mishnah, “asei lecho rav”) refers to an individual whom one chooses simply as an objective outsider, in order to offer advice and guidance. This person need not be otherwise qualified.

In contrast, the latter term usually refers to someone very knowledgeable and scholarly in Torah in general and in the wisdom of Chassidus in particular, who sets a personal example of putting these teachings into practice, and who holds some sort of official communal position.

Along these lines, in the preface to Tanya the Alter Rebbe writes that if one has any questions concerning the meaning of his words in Tanya, one should consult with “the great ones of one’s city,” which in our times would refer to as the local mashpia. Through consulting him one will learn how to apply the Alter Rebbe’s words to his situation, or the correct understanding of Alter Rebbe’s words when one is in doubt.

Although one’s rav and mashpia may be the same person, they need not be. For the former offers practical guidance in dealing with personal problems, while the latter guides one in one’s service of Hashem according to the teachings of Chassidus.

Naturally, a chossid will prefer to seek a rav who is knowledgeable in the teachings of Chassidus and who is exemplary in putting these teachings into practice, for this will definitely assist him in his task. Still, the rav need not do so on the advanced level of a mashpia in order to fulfil his role.

Humility leads one to kindness

The Rebbe Rashab writes:

Avrohom’s quality of bestowing kindness upon everyone stemmed from his total self-effacement. He regarded himself as having no importance, as it is written: “I am but dust and ashes” [Bereshis 18:27]. Since he considered every other person his better, he gave everything to others.

Sefer HaMa’amarim 5643, p. 9.

Kindness stems from a feeling of humility. The humble person feels undeserving of his prosperity. His humility also brings him to regard others favorably, and to assume that they are likely more worthy than he. Thus, he craves to share his wealth with others more worthy.

How can we explain this amazing statement, that Avrohom our forefather, the first Jew, genuinely considered all the degenerate pagans who would visit him, his betters?

Perhaps this can be explained based on the Rebbe’s explanation (Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 4, p. 1213) that one should also feel humble before a non-Jew, because he may have good qualities that one does not possess oneself, and in this regard the non-Jew is more worthy.

Love of Hashem

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 74a) states:

Rabbi Eliezer asked (in reference to the verse (Devorim 6:5), “You shall love Hashem your G-d with all your soul and all your resources”): If it is stated “with all your soul (nafshecha),” why was it necessary to state “with all your resources (me’odecha)”? And if it is stated “with all your resources,” why was it necessary to state “with all your soul”? Rather, [the explanation is that] if there is a person whose life is more precious to him than his money, it says “with all your soul” [so that he be prepared to give up that which is most precious to him]. And if there is a person whose money is more precious to him than his life, it says “with all your resources” [so that he be prepared to give up that which is most precious to him].

Rashi comments:

This means that your love for Him should be more precious to you than everything else that is precious to you.

It would seem that this is not only a lesson about the importance of giving one’s life or resources for Hashem—what one should be willing to give up. Here, the Talmud teaches us how important it is to love Hashem, and how central this focus should be in our lives. It should both act as a guideline for every single aspect of life, and as a goal to which a Jew should aspire: that his love of Hashem should reach the highest level possible.

Yes, as mere mortals we have natural desires, preferences, and inclinations. And these are not only desires for indulgence (along the lines of the one who values his money above all else), but for constructive things as well (along the lines of the one who values his life above all else). Nevertheless, since all these things are about what I want, they should be relegated to second-class status. One’s love of Hashem should be the overriding concern in any and every aspect of life.

And here the emphasis is not fear, but love. Fear of Hashem should precede love of Hashem, of course, as it is the foundation of one’s divine service (see the beginning of chapter 41 of Tanya). This means first and foremost strict adherence to the requirements of halacha. However, following halacha is merely step one. Fear is primarily about not violating the minimum, or, in other words, not sinning and rebelling.

In contrast, love implies going beyond the letter of the law and the call of duty. One who truly feels love does not constantly calculate whether he is technically obligated to assist his loved one—that would show that love is lacking. Rather, he naturally, of his own initiative, volunteers to help out his loved one. He does not regard it as discharging an obligation, but as a privilege and a pleasure.

Likewise, loving Hashem means naturally asking oneself: “What can I do to give Hashem pleasure? What will make Him rejoice and be proud that I am His child?” One who doesn’t feel the desire to ask oneself this should at least aim and strive to reach this level. In the meantime it would seem that one ought to at least ask himself this question in a somewhat more forced manner, for it accustoms oneself to this way of thinking.

This is the main thought that should guide and dominate a Jew’s actions and choices—even if it means forgoing something he would otherwise very much prefer to have.

Newspapers

Below is a quote from a Yechidus (private audience) of Reb Nissan Neminov with the Rebbe (it should be noted that the Rebbe requested that this Yechidus be publicized) from which we can learn certain hanachos ha’olam (“worldly attitudes”—see here) to be avoided:

... Everyone only has a limited amount of time and strength, and [expending effort for unnecessary pursuits] will detract from one’s time for studying Nigleh and Chassidus.

[To explain this, the Rebbe used the following example:] In America one is supposed to read the newspaper, and people imagine that it is impossible to do otherwise, and one cannot be an exception. However, even if only five minutes are spent, time has been lost—never mind if more time was spent. And who will take responsibility that more time will not pass?

This was all only an example of the American lifestyle, from which one can infer with respect to other aspects ...

Below are two quotes from sichos:

Recently it has become a “custom” for married people that they must read the newspaper in order to know what is happening in the world. And if one didn’t manage to read the newspaper himself, he asks his friend to tell him the news that he read in the newspaper. And since “by the mouth of two witnesses every cause will be established” (Devarim 19:15), he does not suffice with hearing the news from one person. He asks another person to tell him the news, for the first person may have missed some details.

If only this “custom” would not become standard for those who maintain fixed times for Torah study, and especially for those for whom these fixed time are established in their souls, and it is it is all the more objectionable for Yeshivah students.

Sicha of Lech Lecha 5742.

When there is confusion in the world and “kingdoms quarrel with one another” (Yalkut Shimoni, 499), a Jew will have no impact by reading the papers in order to be informed about what is happening in the world. His knowledge of the situation will have no impact either way. Rather, the proper approach is not to waste time for no benefit at all to know the details of the situation, or even the general situation. However, one can certainly have a positive impact on the situation through increasing in prayer, Torah study, and deeds of kindness.

Sicha of 19-20 Kislev 5744.

There seem to be three reasons that the Rebbe objects to reading newspapers and the like:

1. Even apparently harmless activities that are expected by modern society, among them the practice of daily reading the newspaper, are in fact detrimental, for they distract the Jew from the way that his time should be spent, and moreover, they have a certain addictive quality.

2. Paradoxically, the preoccupation with the details of the problems of society in fact distracts one from doing what is in one’s power to improve those very problems.

3. In particular, the constant effort to be informed of the news necessarily distracts one from his obligation to constantly “stay informed” of Torah.

The Rebbe seems to be melamed zechus—“assuming the best,” that those reading the newspaper are not actually reading anything that is forbidden (i.e., heresy and sexual immorality). However, it ought to be mentioned that often newspapers contain such articles, and therefore those who read newspapers expose themselves to the danger that they may unwittingly or even intentionally read such articles.

The power of audio for kedusha

Although the following appears self-evident, I believe that it deserves to be emphasized.

The potential for using audio technology nowadays is simply amazing. For a relatively small price one can purchase an audio recorder and record audio files at no cost other than the price of the batteries (and with some devices not even that is needed). These recordings can then be distributed with relative ease.

I believe that sadly, in the realm of kedusha (holiness), and of spreading Yiddishkeit and the wellsprings of Chassidus, this potential is vastly underused.

If Torah is truly precious to us, we will want and yearn to share it and disseminate it, to make every moment of it count as much as possible and have the greatest possible impact.

Many of those who deliver shiurim, perhaps out of some (sorry to say, misplaced) sense of humility, neglect to record them. The class is then heard only by those attending, while if it were recorded it could have been heard by hundreds, if not thousands of people.

The same goes for listening to shiurim, especially with light and easy-to-carry devices such as an iPod, which can be purchased at a relatively cheap price and can store increasingly more mind-boggling amounts of audio.

Boruch Hashem, there is no shortage of audio to put on one’s iPod. There is a vast array of Torah audio available for download online and elsewhere, most of it very cheaply if not altogether gratis. This awesome treasure exists for a purpose—so that we make full use of it.

In fact, an audio recording has a certain advantage over a face-to-face shiur. Often some of the ideas heard in a shiur will not register after being heard once; however, after being heard a second and third time, one comes to fully grasp the teachings.

Moreover, even if one has heard the shiur several times and fully understands and remembers it, he may attain further insight into the topic discussed, or draw needed inspiration from reviewing it again.

And even if the person attends shiurim, audio technology enables one to “seize the commute” and learn in situations in which learning would be otherwise impossible, or at least very difficult—such as while walking, waiting at a bus stop, or the like. This enables one to use those few minutes here and there, which add up to many hours over the course of time, to the utmost.

This is especially necessary for those who for whatever reason may not be able to attend a shiur in person that day, or live in a place where such shiurim are not available.

Even if one is not mentally in the mood to listen to a shiur, he can still make good use of his time by listening to music that inspires one to love and fear Hashem.

Another important role that audio of shiurim or of proper Jewish music can play (no pun intended) is to replace any excuse of a need to listen to the radio, which, like everything secular, almost always contains some objectionable content.

Don't take someone else's prescription!

It is self-evident to one and all that newcomers to Judaism should not be taught pilpulim in Shaagas Aryeh, or Hemshech Ayin Beis. Of course, such advanced material would only confuse them, and thus be detrimental for them. Likewise, it would not be appropriate to encourage them to make a point to follow a particularly stringent halachic opinion that is not widely followed, for this will give them the impression that Judaism overly restrictive.

However, for some reason people don’t naturally sense that the reverse is also inappropriate. A Jew who has committed himself to a frum lifestyle, and certainly one who was born into it, never mind one who is committed to a chassidishe lifestyle, should in general stay away from literature meant specifically for beginners.

This literature is tailored to suit the unique needs of its target audience. For example,

• It addresses basic questions of faith that its authors can reasonably assume would be on the mind of newcomers, considering the secular environment from which they come.
  
  
• It may contain expressions, concepts, or characters from popular books, movies, or music. It may drop references to the latest scandals and controversies.
  
  
• It may leave out salient information for which a beginner is deemed not yet ready.

All these things are relevant only for those who have been immersed in secular culture.

However, the one who was raised with Torah and Mitzvos—and all the more so, one who was raised with Torah and Mitzvos permeated with the warmth and light of Chassidus—should not be imbibing this potion:

• It will only sow unnecessary confusion in their innocent minds, weakening their belief in proper views. Along these lines, see Igros Kodesh, Vol. 19, p. 144: “They confuse the youth with questions and doubts that are not relevant to their experience at all, and then they strive to answer the question, when in fact no one is interested in these technical debates; rather, they seek the absolute truth, without any trace of compromise”.

• It will introduce knowledge of the depravity of contemporary secular culture that they are much better off without.

This is comparable to healing the body. A very sick person needs carefully prescribed medicine in order to nurse him to health. And yet if a healthy person is administered that same medicine, he may well become very sick.

This is not to suggest that there are not problems, and even serious ones, in the world of frum Jewry and of chassidim that require correction. However, these problems are generally of a different nature, and the cure to these problems is thus completely different, just as the medicine that will cure one sick person will not cure another.

Tragedies lo alenu: A goad to Teshuva

The various individual communities of Chabad chassidim should not be regarded as separate and independent, chas v’shalom. There is a world Chabad community of which all the individual communities are integral parts of the whole. Thus, when something happens in one community, it affects all the others, whether for the good or otherwise.

Obviously any tragedy that befalls a fellow Jew should touch all Jews deeply. But it should affect one all the more when it befalls a member of one’s own community, as per the HaYom Yom of 3 Adar 1, which teaches that one should love every Jew, even one whom one has never met, and all the more so a member of one’s own community (see also here concerning the concept of love for one’s fellow chassidim in particular).

There was a recent tragedy in a family of Anash in Eretz Yisroel, may Hashem save us. But this is not unusual. Tragedies like this have been happening in our community every few months for a number of years. There is a pattern here, and it begs the question: Without getting into the general topic of why the innocent and righteous suffer, and why evil exists, and so on, how should we respond to this?

Every individual, and the community as a whole, should feel personally responsible for these events.

There is a popular notion that associating suffering with sin is somehow a non-Chassidic idea. Chassidus is about ahavas Yisrael, positive energy, joy, and so on, and such a negative approach must be wrong (more on that topic another time).

However, this is a complete mistake. The Rambam writes:

It is a positive obligation stated in the Torah to cry out to Hashem in prayer whenever a great calamity should befall the community. … This is counted among the paths of repentance, that when a calamity arrives and people cry out and sound the Shofar, everyone will know that it was because of their wrongdoing that this evil befell them … and this will cause the calamity to be removed from them. If, however, they do not cry out … arguing instead that this event happened to us as part of the natural way of the world and that the calamity happened by chance, this approach is cruel, because it causes people to persist in their wrongdoing and thus brings about further disasters … . Moreover, the Sages ordained that people should fast over every calamity that overtakes the community, until Heaven shows them compassion.

Mishneh Torah, Hilchos Taaniyos, 1:1-4.

When tragedies take the lives of fellow members of our community, may Hashem save us, the community as a whole, and each and every individual ought to feel that this occurred on account of their wicked behavior, as a punishment for it, and that it is as a sign from Hashem that they must to do Teshuva. This attitude is in fact a kindness for themselves, for Teshuva will correct the cause of the tragedy, the sins, and thereby save the community from the terrible result of ongoing sin—further punishment.

See Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 6, p. 192, where the Rebbe cites the above statement of the Rambam and uses it to explain the story of Purim. As soon as Esther heard of Homon’s decree, she informed the people that this decree had been caused by their sins, and called them to fast and do teshuva; they heeded her call, and this was the true reason that the decree was averted.

The Rambam rules clearly that when tragedies happen, the community must gather, admit that their sins caused the tragic events, and repent. In the above sicha, the Rebbe says that in her call for Teshuva, Esther even made a point of identifying which particular sin had caused the calamitous decree.

I will not presume to engage in such speculation in a public forum. However, a simple reading of the above quote from the Rambam would indicate that such introspection and stocktaking is definitely required on the communal level. I would suggest that Rabbonim should make these statements, and if they have not, they should be urged to do so.

And since the community consists of many individuals, when such events occur, every individual should also make a personal accounting, and search within for faults that he or she may have, with the goal of correcting them and thereby safeguarding the community as a whole from such disasters in the future, chas v’shalom.

Tolerance is contempt

The Rebbe teaches:

Although the flood was approaching, Noach prayed only for himself and his family, and ignored the entire generation. Only when approached and asked why he was constructing an ark would he tell them that G–d would imminently bring a flood upon the world, and he rebuked them. However, he waited until they approached him, and didn’t approach them, and of this the Zohar says harsh words. [Zohar 1:106a states that the flood was attributed to Noach, for had he prayed for the members of his generation, the flood could have been averted—see here. Cf. Likutei Sichos, Vol. 2, pp. 452-453.] ...

Abraham, in contrast, did not wait until he was approached. Rather, as it is written, “There he [Abraham] proclaimed the Name of G–d, L–rd of the world” [Bereshis 21:33]—for Abraham approached everyone and publicized G–dliness in the world.

Likutei Sichos, Vol. 2, p. 322.

One of the chiddushim (novelties) that the Rebbe introduced is the concept of mivtza’im, the Mitzvah campaigns. The core of this idea is that individual Jews, of their own initiative, should approach other Jews and encourage them to observe a Mitzvah.

At first glance, the idea of walking up to a total stranger (on the outside, at least) and after saying a brief hello, suggesting that he do a Mitzvah, violates western social norms. One who does this may even be accused of being disrespectful, rude (G–d forbid), and worst of all, “intolerant.” In contrast, the modern-day secularist society regards the person who is “tolerant” and blissfully ignores the sinful behavior of others despite his ability to influence them as praiseworthy and virtuous.

However, in fact the opposite is often the case. The “live and let die” attitude demonstrates the ultimate contempt and inhumanity. G–d gave this person the privilege to know that He exists, that He commanded us to abide by certain laws, and that this is the only way to fulfill the purpose of one’s creation, and thereby find true happiness and fulfillment in life. This creates a moral obligation for him to share this knowledge with those less fortunate than he whom he has the opportunity to influence. Obviously, one should exert influence appropriately, in a way that will most likely be effective. But one may not sit idly by when he is in a position to save others from spiritual death.

Because if you wait until they come to you, in the meantime they may well drown.

Loving rebuke

The Rebbe teaches:

The Zohar explains the difference between Noach and his righteous successors: Noach “did not pray for the world,” for the members of his generation, and therefore the waters of the flood are called “the waters of Noach,”[1] i.e., the flood is attributed to him.[2]

In contrast, Moses displayed self-sacrifice by demanding that G–d forgive the Jewish people for the sin of worshipping the Golden Calf.[3]

However, the Midrash tells us that Noach rebuked the people and encouraged them to repent, implying that he did care about the state of his generation. If so, why didn’t he pray for them and plead to G–d to have mercy upon them?

The explanation: Noach’s rebuke did not stem from an altruistic desire to help the people, but solely from the desire to relieve himself of G–d’s command.

As Chassidus says, “Noach did not devote himself in his rebuke and warnings to inspire them to repent,”[4] because the main purpose of his rebuke was to fulfill the command that he had been commanded. This explains why he didn’t act with Moses’ self-sacrifice by going to the trouble to pray for them.

Likutei Sichos, Vol. 15, pp. 40-41.

[1] Yeshaya 54:9.

[2] Zohar 1:106a.
[3] Shemos 32:32.
[4] Sefer HaMa’amarim 5705, p. 29.

In my own words, with some explanation:

It is written, “You shall surely rebuke your fellow Jew” (Vayikra 19:17). We are obligated to rebuke our fellow Jews (see Erchin 16b for a discussion of just how far this obligation extends) and encourage them to do the right thing. And yet this means far more than simply speaking words of rebuke to them. The main thing is that the rebuke stem from a genuine concern for their welfare.

When Hashem told Noach to rebuke the people, He meant to do so with true concern and persistence. But Noach only followed “the letter of the law.” He rebuked, but his rebuke stemmed only from a desire to obey Hashem, and not from a true concern for the people, and so it fell on deaf ears. The consequences of this lack of proper concern for his fellow humans were so far-reaching that Noach is considered partly responsible for the tragedy of the flood, and this is why its waters are called “the waters of Noach.”

The same is true concerning the task of spreading Yiddishkeit and Chassidus to our fellow Jews. Although activities to disseminate these teachings are obligatory (and especially for Chabad chassidim, who were charged to do so countless times by the Rebbe), they will only bear fruit when they stem from a true love and concern for our fellow Jew and a desire to help him—and not merely the wish to “do our duty.” If we neglect to refine ourselves and develop our love for our fellow Jew (see further explanation of this here), and the result is that our efforts to teach others meet with failure, then we are partly responsible for the ongoing non-observance of those whom we were in a position to inspire.

Noach’s lack of true concern for others was demonstrated in his neglect to davven (pray) for them. Thus, perhaps one way of discerning whether our efforts to teach others stem from true love is whether we feel moved to take some time to davven for them, seeing that they are not yet privileged to know about the vast, rich treasures of Yiddishkeit and Chassidus that are the heritage of every single Jew.

Moreover, based on the principle explained in the HaYom Yom of 3 Adar 1 (which says that one should love every Jew, even one whom one has never met, and all the more so a member of one’s own community, i.e., those whom one knows well), it would seem that we should davven in particular for those whom we know personally.

The Rebbe's characteristic expressions

In his countless sichos, the Rebbe uses a number of characteristic expressions, many of which were not typically used before (to the best of my knowledge). As chassidim for whom every word of the Rebbe is precious, it surely behooves us to notice and analyze these expressions, and adopt them ourselves where appropriate. Below I present a partial list of them, along with some suggested explanations in my humble upinion. If anyone wants to suggest other such expressions, or alternate explanations of these ones—please, don’t be shy!

• Geula ho’amatis vehashleimo—the true and complete redemption: This appears to be at least in part a rejection of the notion of the “beginning of redemption” advanced by a certain modern group.

• Borei olam u’manhigo—the Creator and Director of the universe: The Rebbe mainly uses this expression in sichos concerning non-Jews, and his apparent intent is to concisely reject the heretical idea that Hashem created the world but abandoned it, or that He is not fully involved with it. Rather, the Rebbe emphasizes, Hashem is constantly controlling everything that happens in the world.

• Maaseh bepoel—actual deed: This expression comes to stress the need to bring abstract discussion down to earth.

• Raboseinu Nesi’einu—our Rebbeim, our Nesi’im: This is said in reference to the Baal Shem Tov, the Maggid of Mezeritch, and all the Rebbeim of Chabad in order to emphasize that they are all our Rebbeim and Nesi’im even now, although of course, the current Rebbe and Nasi is the main one. For further explanation, see here.

• Teikef umiyad mammosh—literally at once, immediately: This is said when expressing a prayer for the coming of Moshiach, and this repetitious wording is intended to emphasize that we ask that this request be fulfilled literally now.

• Pnimiyus HaTorah—the inner dimension of Torah: The Rebbe never uses the expressions that have been traditionally used to refer to “Jewish mysticism”—sod, the secret dimension of Torah, or nistar, the hidden dimension of Torah. See here for a possible explanation.

Bridging the chasm between us

Many of us are so “stuck” in ourselves—in our routines, our personal lives, our family, and our immediate daily concerns—that, as legitimate and even necessary as it may be for us to pursue these things, they naturally become a rut from which we can barely see out of. We have boxed ourselves into ourselves, and we have great difficulty simply relating to others who are not part of our little world.

The Alter Rebbe addresses this concern in the book of Tanya, chapter 32, the chapter famously devoted to explaining the Mitzvah of ahavas Yisrael, loving one’s fellow Jew. There it states that at the core all Jews are one, and yet “the bodies are separate”: The body and the concomitant drive to satisfy one’s selfish material needs (never mind controlling or channeling the urge to indulge one’s more sensual desires) create a tremendous division between us.

The Mitzvah of ahavas Yisrael obligates us to engage in the lifelong struggle to overcome this distance. This begins with striving for inner self-improvement, by curbing one’s material passions and thereby transcending one’s bodily limitations. In this way one makes the Neshama and its interests and aspirations dominant in one’s life, which sensitizes one to the souls of fellow Jews regardless of the bodily separation.

But how can one tell whether efforts at sensitizing oneself have borne fruit, and have produced a feeling of true love for one’s fellow Jew? Practically speaking, one way of measuring how far one has progressed is to consider whether one eagerly fulfils the Mitzvah to rejoice in the celebrations of fellow Jews, and whether one is genuinely pained when other Jews are in distress or grieving. As Rabeinu Yona writes:

If your fellow is in distress, feel pained for them ... and rejoice in their prosperity. If you hear about the distress of Jews who live far away, groan and pray for them, and all the more so for those who are close.

Sefer Ha’yira l’Rabeinu Yona, sec. beg. ve’im yovo’u.

Thus, not only should we share in the joys and sorrows of a member of our own community, but those of every single Jew in the world that comes to our knowledge.

It sounds noble and holy, but sadly, if we are to be honest with ourselves, it is very far from reality. When we hear of a child born, how much do we rejoice? When we hear of the passing of an elderly Jew, how much do we mourn? When we hear of a Jew losing his job, how much is our compassion and concern aroused? Indeed, these are very sobering questions.

Nowhere are the material pains of our fellow Jews as obvious as they are today in Eretz Yisroel, where Jews suffer from rockets, suicide bombings, kidnappings, sniper fire, and the trauma of constant fear of such attacks.

Then there is the perhaps even more painful phenomenon of Jew against Jew:

• Jews knowingly endangering Jews by handing over guns, land, and money to our sworn enemies (as in Oslo and its follow-up deals), by removing checkpoints, by releasing terrorists with blood on their hands, or who wanted to have blood on their hands, in ridiculous exchanges, and so on;
• Jews expelling Jews from their homes—“because they had no choice but to follow orders” (as in Gush Katif and Northern Shomron, and more recently in Chevron and other places);
• Jews mercilessly beating those who simply protest against destruction of Jewish property (as in Amonah, and on other occasions);
• Jews preventing Jews from building their property, forcing them to live in ghetto-like conditions (as is currently the case in Yehuda and Shomron);
• ... and the list goes on.

When we hear that our fellow Jews are abused, discriminated against, victimized, demonized, expelled, dispossessed, betrayed, traumatized, injured, or slain, by strangers and even by brothers, it ought to make a difference to us. Not only should we not come up with transparent, pathetic excuses to look the other way (such as “we don’t get involved in politics” or “people will be turned off if we speak about such topics”), but it ought to matter to us, bother us, shake us up, outrage us.

As the Rebbe said many times concerning such events, “When it hurts, you scream!” If we’re not screaming, then it means we’re not hurting. If we’re not hurting, then our love for our fellow Jew is clearly lacking. And this stems from the fact that we fall short spiritually. Although we davven with a Minyan, study Torah, and so on, our heart is not in it. It’s difficult to say it, but we’ve succumbed to a self-centered lifestyle.

Perhaps we need to review Tanya, chapter 32, and reflect upon its message persistently. Until, with the help of Hashem, it truly sinks in.

Recognizing spiritual sickness

The Frierdiker Rebbe writes:

There are physical sicknesses of which the sick person may not be aware, and of which he learns the truth only after undergoing various tests. Thus, it is vital that the sick person be aware:

1. that he is sick, and comes to desire and yearn to become well;
   
   
2. that his health can be restored; this should bring him to maintain full hope and trust that with the help of Hashem, it will.

One must follow these conditions, and to an even greater extent, with regard to sicknesses of the soul.

Guidance in applying these two criteria can be found in the Chassidic texts, and it can be applied under the direction of a chossid who engages in the study of Chassidus and has expert knowledge of the ways of chassidim.

Adapted from Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, pp. 353-354.

In my own words, with explanation:

Let’s face it. Of course, we don’t like to recognize it one bit. But, and this is nothing personal, most of us are sick.

Sick in the head. Sick in the heart. Sick in the soul.

But this does not occur to us. We must be normal, we reason, because we observe that so many others around us are, it seems, not so different from us spiritually. In fact, we relativize, it often seems that others around us are even worse off. The thought that almost everyone is spiritually sick is depressing, so we push it out of our minds. For if that’s true, how can a cure be found for a problem so prevalent? In an atmosphere of apathy and materialism, the thought that a real cure could exist, and anyone could actually be truly, deeply inspired seems altogether unrealistic.

However, those who are more serious in their service of Hashem are simply the ones who are honest enough with themselves to recognize this fact, and motivated enough to do something about it. They have succeeded at passing the crucial stage of self-knowledge, and so they have a chance of true progress.

And how indeed does one come to truly realize the nature and degree of one’s sickness? The Frierdiker Rebbe speaks of the possibility of not detecting a physical sickness until tests are administered. In the spiritual realm, this could correspond to many things, for instance:

• experiences of failure or damage caused that bring the person to realize his faults directly;
  
  
• others rebuke him for his wrong actions;
  
  
• by perceiving faults in others, he comes to realize that he possesses those same faults himself, according to the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching that “a person is a mirror.”

To attain this goal through Chassidus, however, seems to involve a different process, one that the Frierdiker Rebbe apparently regards as the most ideal and effective method of recognizing one’s faults. Through Chassidus one refines and elevates oneself to the point that the faults to which one was oblivious in his past coarse state, one now perceives clearly. It seems to me (from my general knowledge of the difference between Chassidus and Mussar) that this is the means of recognizing one’s sickness that the Frierdiker Rebbe refers to in his letter. He explains that guidance in the process of self-knowledge through Chassidus, and advice for an appropriate cure, can be obtained through delving into the teachings of Chassidus under the guidance of an experienced mashpia.

The damage of depression

One of the distinguishing qualities of the path of Chassidus is the focus on constant joy, and in Tanya (ch. 26), the Alter Rebbe explains that only at auspicious times designated for a personal spiritual reckoning may one bring oneself to bitterness over one’s sins. The rest of the time, however, one must serve Hashem with joy and completely disregard any sadness that comes from thoughts of one’s sins (see this earlier post).

In the letter below, the Previous Rebbe warns a chossid not to engage in any inappropriate sadness:

I have heard that you are worried and sad, and consequently you are neglecting your health and proper behavior in your eating, drinking, and sleeping. This is obviously disturbing your work to disseminate Torah and strengthen those who engage in Avodah [character refinement] and study Torah.

All those who study the teachings of Chassidus know that the worry and depression, even when it stems from concern over one’s spiritual level, is a wicked trait. Not only should one distance oneself from it, but one should uproot it at the root, for it opens the way for all kinds of evil.

Our sages have said: “Such is the craft of the evil inclination” (Shabbos 105b). The bestial soul [another term for the evil inclination] is a seasoned craftsman, and his craft is to come to each person with a different tactic. To the small, the average, and the great—each one he approaches on that person’s level.

Sometimes the bestial soul comes wrapped in a Tallis not his own—with the appearance of the good inclination. He reminds the person of his personal faults, and rebukes and torments him. He advises the person to study works of mussar and threatens him, and his entire goal is to degrade the person and distract him from the tasks that he needs to do.

This is the entire intention of the evil inclination—to preoccupy and distract the person from engaging in good things. When he sees that he can only accomplish this through a method that apparently stems from fear of Heaven, he will slip on this garment in order to perpetrate his wicked scheme. This is why he is called a craftsman, for his enticements are committed in such a way that when he reprimands and torments the person for something not good, or bad, it is impossible to recognize his true face—that in reality this is the evil inclination.

Therefore our holy fathers, the Rebbeim, decreed that worry and depression, even from one’s spiritual state, is a wicked character trait, and they forbade it completely and utterly. They sentenced it to the four death penalties, that it be banished from the domain of chassidim, and uprooted until no minute trace remains, for even that brings great damage. ...

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, pp. 356-357.

Following spiritual guidance

It’s not enough to go to someone for spiritual guidance and personal advice, and simply “get it off your chest.” For the consultation to be effective, one must (surprise!) actually follow the instructions given. Oddly, people commonly forget this.

The Previous Rebbe explains:

There is a common problem with spiritual healing. People are liable to incorrectly treat healing the soul differently from healing the body:

If a doctor has prescribed a medicine, it must be administered. No patient will think that enlisting the services of an expert doctor and receiving a diagnosis and a prescription, and then ordering the medicine and laying it sitting on his desk is enough to cure him. On the contrary, then the patient’s condition will only worsen. Rather, everyone knows that in order to become healed one must actually take the medicine, and according to the frequency and dosage that the doctor prescribed.

This is the sensible approach. But oddly, in spiritual matters, many people do not think and conduct themselves in this way. Instead, they approach a person for advice and guidance, which they then receive, yet they then neglect to follow through, thinking that the very fact that they spoke to a spiritual guide is itself sufficient. Some people even feel truly bitter about their low spiritual state, and yet they still fail to follow the advice given them.

Adapted from Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 29.

Avoiding the trap of complacency

A beginner to Yiddishkeit, who is setting out to serve Hashem from scratch, usually can’t deny his ignorance. Wherever he turns, he encounters ideas and practices that are new and completely unexplained. He naturally yearns to know the ideas and practices that everyone else seems to know and follow. To be sure, there is a sense of novelty that also partly fuels his initial interest in Yiddishkeit. But I believe that an even greater part of the beginner’s drive to learn and practice stems from his inner sense of emptiness and lacking.

As time passes, with Hashem’s help he learns step by step, albeit on a basic level, what’s what. Then he goes on to learn deeper and deeper explanations, perhaps even surpassing many others in his community.

Here the pitfall lies. As long as one lives, the Yetzer Horo (evil inclination) is seeking crafty ways to cause confusion, distracting the person and leading him away from serving Hashem. Even as one draws close to Hashem, the Yetzer Horo uses that very act against the person.

The danger of learning and practicing Torah and Yiddishkeit is that the more the person does it, the more he thinks—very subtly, perhaps not even consciously—that now he really knows, and he feels a minute but growing sense of satisfaction and complacency. This is evident in the fact that although he still learns, he does not do so with the sense of thirst and deprivation felt by a beginner.

But in reality he has merely glimpsed an infinitesimal fraction of the vast expanses of Torah, whose “measure is longer than the earth, and wider than the sea” (Job 11:9). He may indeed have greatly progress in light of where he was at before, but when compared with what Torah truly is, even after decades of intensive learning, he has barely scratched the surface. Similarly, through Torah one connects with Hashem, Who is infinite, and therefore no matter how close one has come to Hashem, he always remains far from Hashem’s infinite reality. As long as the person realizes and senses this, he will always yearn for more.

Sukkah: Unity through transcending all divisions

Unlike the Mitzvah of the Four Kinds, which creates a complementary unity from individuality and multiplicity (as discussed here), the Mitzvah of