Worthwhile sacrifices

I recently travelled on a plane, and I derived several important lessons from the experience. Here is one:

When something is truly important to us, we are willing to sacrifice for it.

Most people will not wake up early or put themselves in a situation in which they know they will lose a lot of sleep. If they missed their daily shiur in Chassidus or Nigleh, or they didn’t finish Chitas, they may say that they can’t do it late or wake up early for it, because they will lose sleep. Likewise, they may say that they can’t stay at a farbrengen, or come altogether, because it will mean losing sleep.

But the traveller on an expensive plane flight somehow forgets these concerns. This shows us that when something is very important, and you’ve invested a lot for it, you have no trouble losing some sleep. The temporary discomfort is more than worthwhile when compared with the long-term profit one hopes to gain, and the amount of money one has invested.

This concept is reflected in Tanya, chapter 25, where the Alter Rebbe urges one to be wary of the “battles of the [evil] inclination and its schemes to cool a person off [by enticing him] not to forfeit his money and his bodily health.”

Of course, there is also a limit to how much one can give up his money, or lose sleep, and the like. One who gives away all his money to tzedakah will become a pauper and have to collect money himself. Likewise, someone who literally never sleeps may have a nervous breakdown and then not be capable of anything.

However, these are extremes, and this is clearly not what the Alter Rebbe means. The Alter Rebbe is saying that when someone comes to your door collecting and you have an opportunity to give tzedakah, but it may mean giving up something you would have liked to have, don’t turn him down. If you miss eight hours sleep, and only get six and a half because you stayed later at a farbrengen or learnt with a chavrusa in the only time available, you’ll survive.

What about the discomfort, and even the pain, that it may involve? When we truly appreciate the value of Torah study and the like, we will not regard it as a loss in the first place. As the Rebbe puts it:

As we have often discussed, in order to accomplish a goal of tremendous importance, any effort exerted is utterly trivial when compared with the importance of the task. Thus, no effort should be spared in activities related to such an endeavor. This would even be true if one’s chances of success were doubtful.

This can be compared to a person advised to invest one copper coin on the chance that he may earn thousands upon thousands of golden coins, jewels, and pearls. He would surely not hesitate for even a moment to invest this coin, although the profit is uncertain.

If this is even true of material profit, it surely applies with respect to the tremendous spiritual benefit (aside from the inherent value of fulfilling of a divine command) of bringing the entire world to recognize the existence of the Creator and Director of the universe. There is surely no comparison between the efforts invested in this campaign and its tremendous importance. This would even be true if success was uncertain, and it is all the more so when experience shows the extent of our success.

Hisva’aduyos 5743, Vol. 3, pp. 1336-1337.

In light of the recent tragedies

In light of the terrible tragedies among the Chabad community in recent weeks, I would like to draw my readers' attention to this post: Tragedies lo alenu: A goad to Teshuva May we be comforted with the coming of Moshiach now!

Standard interim recommendations

The Previous Rebbe writes:

One cannot begin treating a patient until the location of the sickness and its root cause have been ascertained. Until then, one can only prescribe proper conduct in general, and instruct the patient to engage in certain practices and avoid others.

Following a schedule for sleeping, eating, drinking, and other aspects of a proper lifestyle will certainly benefit the patient’s health greatly, but will not cure his sickness. For this purpose an individual medicine must be prescribed (in addition to following a healthy lifestyle, as mentioned above).

Moreover, the patient must constantly rouse himself with the desire and yearning to recover, and the intense hope that Hashem will heal him, as it is written, “The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity” (Mishlei 18:14).

The same holds true for treating spiritual ailments. It is true that until the exact location of the sickness and its root cause is identified, the person cannot be healed individually. However, it is nonetheless certain that proper conduct will strengthen and elevate him, with the help of Hashem.

This conduct should include:

Doing good: An organized approach to doing good deeds by performing Mitzvos, fixing times for Torah study, and acquiring good character traits.

Rejecting evil: Taking care in one’s speech to avoid idle chatter, shutting one’s eyes from seeing evil and blocking one’s ears from hearing wicked speech (cf. Yeshaya 33:15). When discussing the condition of another person, the way that he runs his home, and so on, one must also be vigilant, for praise of another person can often end up in denigrating that person and his home. This may contain a significant amount of the filth of gossip, talebearing, jealousy, hatred, the spreading of malicious lies, and the like.

And yet the above conduct will not be sufficient to cure a person of his illness, as mentioned.

Adapted from Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 353.

It is true that often a person needs personal advice carefully prescribed to address his individual problems (see here). However, even before he receives this advice, he should not dismiss the value of following certain standard interim recommendations.

Ahavas Yisrael: not just a slogan

Ahavas Yisrael (the Mitzvah to love one’s fellow Jew) has become a slogan, and not of the positive kind. The purpose of a slogan is to remind us of something, but at the same time it causes us to forget, for the constant repetition of the idea makes it so routine that the opposite happens—we forget what it actually means and why it was so important to emphasize in the first place.

Ahavas Yisrael, on the most basic level, means being really nice to another Jew. Friendly. Warm. Welcoming. Accepting. Kind. Sensitive. Respectful. Genuinely interested in his welfare.

To accomplish this, we need to develop empathy. We need to be able to pull ourselves out of our own natural box and try to to consider another Jew's feelings and needs. And not out of a sense of obligation to Hashem (although it is indeed an obligation), but simply out of an awareness that since that Jew is my brother or my sister, I should care about him or her and unite with him or her as much as possible.

But by nature we are so distant from other people and so attached to ourselves. We don't stop thinking about ourselves. I, me. Each person thinks subconsciously that the entire universe revolves around him.

Developing empathy means learning that other people really and truly matter. In fact, they matter just as much as oneself, if not more. And therefore they deserve the same amount of respect and caring that one would want for oneself.

Of course, since developing this feeling means changing one’s innate emotions, it doesn’t come naturally. It requires strenuous, sustained effort. In the parlance of Chabad literature this effort is termed avodah.

As the Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya ch. 32, the key to ahavas Yisrael is bringing the Neshama (soul) to dominate in the body. For it is the Neshama that truly unites us, for all Neshamos stem from Hashem, just like all siblings, no matter how different they are from one another, stem from the same parents.

Thus, when a Jew exerts the effort necessary to attune himself to the needs of his Neshama, then ahavas Yisrael will come naturally. Ahavas Yisrael will no longer be a slogan; rather, it will become a normal part of life.

5 Teves: Celebrating our victory

On Hei (the fifth of) Teves every year, chassidim celebrate the victory in which the secular court issued the verdict that the seforim (holy books) of the Previous Rebbe’s library should be returned to their rightful owners, Agudas Chassidei Chabad, after a large number of them had been stolen by a thief. Chassidim dubbed this the day of Didan notzach, which means literally “victory is ours.”

But why should we be so happy, as if celebrating a personal victory? After all, we weren’t there. Many of us (such as the writer of this post) were little children when this whole event occurred, and others hadn’t even been born. And even of those who were adults at the time and remember the events clearly, how many were directly involved? Okay, some people went to the trouble to sit in the court during the case. But most didn’t even do that.

In fact, this question strikes to the core of what it means to be a chossid.

At first chassidim didn’t understand why the theft mattered so much, but they witnessed the simple fact that the Rebbe was very, very distressed at the situation. So first and foremost, chassidim were distressed on account of that very fact: chassidim have a deep, personal, loving relationship with the Rebbe, so when something distresses the Rebbe, chassidim are distressed.

But for a true chossid, that is not enough. Just as one when one learns that his close friend is suffering one wants to know why this is so, and seeks to help him out, so is it with a chossid and his or her Rebbe. When the Rebbe is in pain, the chossid wants to understand why, and to share that feeling with him, and to do whatever is in his or her power to remove that pain.

This is the meaning of didan. Didan means ours. The Rebbe’s joy is our joy, and the Rebbe’s pain is our pain, because we’re his chassidim. But this bond can’t come automatically. It requires Avodah, hard work at self-refinement, so that instead of thinking about ourselves, whether we paid our mortgage, filled our stomachs, and made our money, and the like, we think about Hashem, what matters to Him, and then realize that we should consider the wishes of the Tzaddik that He sent us to reveal His Will to us and His expectation of us. That he is the source of our Neshamos, and that we need to connect with that source in order connect with Hashem.

Then his pain is our pain ... and then his joy is our joy, his victory is our victory. Because there is didan—the identification with the Rebbe, therefore there is notzach—the identification with his victory.

In this case, the joy of Hei Teves—of which chassidim said, “One who didn’t see the joy of Hei Teves, never saw joy in his life”—was a direct and natural result of empathizing with the pain of the Rebbe during the period before the verdict was issued. When we in our time develop our bond with the Rebbe in general, and reflect upon the pain of the Hei Teves in particular, we will be able to truly share in the Rebbe’s joy on this day. “Those who sow in tears, shall reap with joy” (Tehillim 126:5). Le’chaim!

Torah illuminates and enables discernment

The Rebbe writes that one can only discern between spiritual health and sickness with the light of Torah:

If every person was granted the potential to change worldly events in a positive direction, and even to introduce a novelty, this is surely true of the Jewish nation. Its very existence is a deviation from the order of the world, and it has been assigned with the role of serving as “A light unto the nations” (Yeshaya 42:6).

Since this description is given by our Torah, “a Torah of truth,” it is exact in all its details. This includes the fact that light represents a force that, although apparently not introducing any novelty, displays and reveals the true nature of the object [being illuminated]. Usually, this light is essential to discern between good and evil, holiness and impurity, health and sickness, and between those who call evil, good, and sickness, health.

Nitzutzei Ohr, p. 83.

Elsewhere, the Rebbe discusses this in terms of the concept of the comparison between Torah and a candle:

A candle does not produce anything new. A candle merely illuminates and enables one to see things next to oneself. When the candle is lit one can see what to be careful of, and what one ought to pursue; what is a door that leads one out into a wide space, and what is a pit, where one is liable to fall to the nethermost depths. This is the idea of light—it merely reveals existing things.

Sichos Kodesh 5730, Vol. 1, p. 343.

When we reflect upon at events in our personal lives, or in the world around us, and seek clarity in our perception, we have to ask ourselves one question: Are we looking at the event from the perspective of Hashem’s eternal Torah? If so, then our view of it can be true and healthy. But if not, then no matter how smart, knowledgeable, or otherwise accomplished we may be, our view of it will be inevitably tainted by worldly attitudes, and thus we are bound to err in our assessment of good and evil, holiness and impurity, and health and sickness, what one ought to avoid, and what one ought to pursue.

Relating to non-Jews and their culture

Torah study—“our life and the length of our days;
we will meditate (on her words) day and night" (Evening liturgy)”

“The sins of the Jewish people in the time of the Greeks were: befriending the Greeks, learning their culture ... ” (HaYom Yom, 29 Kislev)

Just a minute, an outsider might ask. It’s a sin to befriend a non-Jew?! Isn’t Judaism a religion of peace and love? If anything, that should be considered a Mitzvah, no?

Well, no. Jews should not be “buddy buddy” with non-Jews. It’s not that we dislike non-Jews. We just know that we should ... keep a distance from them. The Jewish people is “a nation that dwells alone” (Bamidbar 23:9). We have our role, they have theirs. When we get too close, those lines become blurred. A friendship is a two-way relationship. You influence him, but he also influences you. A non-Jewish friend would share his values and feelings with you, and we don’t want to be influenced by the non-Jewish attitudes and culture, because it could cause us to weaken our devotion to Torah, or even abandon it altogether, G–d forbid. Thus, we find a concern in Halacha that a close friendship between a Jew and a non-Jew may lead the two to make a deal to marry off their children to each other, which the Torah considers a normal outcome of a very close friendship. (Along similar lines, a religious Jew should also take care not to come too close to a not-yet-observant Jew—see here.)

In general, although he may do business with non-Jews, a regular ehrleche (fine) Jew is not tempted to befriend them, and the reason is not just that that he can’t discuss Tosfos with them. He simply can’t relate to them. The cross-cultural divide is too great. And this is a good thing.

(Note: This is not to say that a Jew should act in an unfriendly or rude manner toward non-Jews, G–d forbid. In fact, since non-Jews are created in the image of Hashem (Avos 3:14), they deserve to be accorded the utmost respect, and even cherished. This is also not to say that he should not have any form of contact with a non-Jew; rather (in addition to maintaining contact for the purpose of shared business interests, or the like), the nature of their relationship is one of teacher and student, with the Jew inspiring the non-Jew indirectly through his fine moral conduct and wholesome family life, or directly, by teaching him the Noahide laws.)

But the second item mentioned in HaYom Yom, learning secular culture, is a temptation that is lamentably all too common in our times.

Many frum people feel that they must read the newspaper every day, follow the sport, politics, and even gossip, and generally be “up with the latest” amongst the non-Jews. Many immerse themselves in study of secular topics purely for the sake of knowing them, and send their children to schools with a very good record in secular studies even if the Torah studies there is poor; they then insist that their children go to college, and not just in order to earn a good living (despite the severe dangers that their children are exposed to there), but in order to “be a man amongst men” by being au fait with the culture of the western world. Many indulge in “entertainment” by supposedly “neutral” novels, television shows, and movies. And so on.

The numbers of such people are not small, and probably greater than we estimate. And although none of the things listed above are strictly forbidden, they are sins in the sense that these are not befitting behaviors for Jews.

“But what’s so terrible with it? Why are you being so fanatic? It’s harmless!”

But it’s not. These influences are filled with subtle and not-so-subtle inappropriate messages that desensitize us to holiness, true refinement, and actualizing our spiritual potential. Ultimately, when imbibed frequently and for a lengthy duration, such influences may entice the Jew to give up Yiddishkeit altogether, may G–d save us.

And above all, preoccupation with the non-Jewish culture, even the most supposedly harmless cartoon, distracts the Jew from what he should be focused on—Torah study. The Torah is Hashem’s timeless wisdom. It is a priceless gift from Above. A Jew has the constant obligation and privilege to study it, and neglecting it is considered a severe sin.

As the Mishnah exhorts us: “Ben Bag-Bag used to say of the Torah: Turn it and turn it again, for everything is in it. Pore over it, and wax gray and old over it. Stir not from it for you can have no better rule than it" (Avos 5.22). Everything a Jew could want to know is in the Torah, and it is what should preoccupy him whenever he has a “spare” moment.

The key to understanding Torah

People who study Torah make a common mistake. They treat the Torah as a collection of thought-provoking topics for intellectual discussion and heated debate, or as a storehouse of insightful stories and witty sayings.

But a Jew doesn’t learn Torah in order to stimulate his mind—or at least, he shouldn’t. He ought to learn Torah with a sense of awe at its holiness, and with the goal of submitting and uniting his mind with Hashem’s wisdom.

In fact, only when one learns Torah with this awareness can one truly understand it. Thus, one who has not prepared himself appropriately to study Torah will not only fail to truly connect with the G–dliness in Torah, he will fail to truly grasp its technical logic as well.

To explain, in Hashem’s infinite kindness, He lowers His supernal wisdom, which is the Torah as it is in its sublime source, and reveals it to us on our level, which is the Torah as we know it. Put differently, in the Torah Hashem lowers His intellect, which is completely beyond mortal understanding, to the level of our intellect, which enables us to understand it.

And yet, even when divine intellect vests itself in human intellect, it remains inherently divine. Thus, even the technical logic of Torah that our human intellect grasps is fundamentally different from the technical logic of secular wisdoms (lehavdil), for it is divine intellect in the garb of human intellect.

The reason that Hashem lowers His wisdom in this way is that He wants to give us the opportunity to unite with it. In chapter five of the Tanya, the Alter Rebbe explains that through Torah study, one unites one’s own mind with Hashem’s “mind” in a unity that is completely unparalleled.

However, Hashem does not automatically lower His intellect into a form that we can understand. This is a privilege that must be earned, for in general, divine blessings require that the recipient invest effort in order to be worthy of them (in the language of Kabbala, an “arousal from below” must precede an “arousal from above”). In this case, the human effort required is devotion to observe the Mitzvos out of the pure desire to obey Hashem’s command. When one does this, he causes G–dliness to permeate the physical, and thereby merits that divine wisdom descends to him such that his limited intellect can grasp it, enabling him to unite himself with Hashem in a most wondrous manner.

But do we not see many scholars of Torah who lack fear of Hashem? The answer is that although they may have amassed a great deal of technical knowledge, they do not truly grasp the meaning of what they have studied; rather, they will constantly understand and interpret Torah themes in an incorrect and even twisted way.

In stark contrast, secular wisdom can be understood thoroughly even by a person who neglects to fulfill the behaviors that they logically prescribe. For example, an expert on heart disease can fully understand his field despite being a chain smoker.

This is also related to Chanuka, for the Greeks sought “to cause them [the Jewish people] to forget Your Torah and to remove from them the laws of Your will” (Haneros Halalu liturgy). They sensed that connecting with the G–dliness of Torah depends upon performing Mitzvos with pure faith in Hashem. Since they wanted the Jewish people to study Torah as a secular subject, G–d forbid, they outlawed the observance of the chukim, the supra-rational laws. Since this would leave only the rational Mitzvos, they hoped that the Jewish people would then stop performing the remaining Mitzvos out of subservience to the divine command, instead performing them because of their rational necessity. In sum, they sought to contaminate the purity of Torah by contaminating the purity of Mitzvah observance.

Thus, Chanuka teaches us to perform Mitzvos with pure faith and fear of Hashem, out of a desire to fulfill His will; this makes the person a vessel to truly grasp the technical logic of Torah, and when he then learns it, he will be blessed with the ability to succeed at uniting his mind with Hashem’s wisdom.

Based on Sefer HaMa’amarim 5712, pp. 144-145.

The true message of Chanuka

It pains me to write this, but I feel that I must.

Sometimes there is a fine line between not saying the whole truth, and saying something incorrect. I have found this to true of Chanukah in particular, and the way it is presented to the outside world by some well-meaning Chabad representatives.

For example, in one article, a leading Chabad rabbi is quoted as saying that “The world’s largest Hanukkah menorah stands as a symbol of freedom of democracy and delivers the message of light over darkness and freedom over oppression.”

Another article, this time from an official news site, is entitled: “Menorah: A Symbol of Religious Freedom.” It describes how Chanukah brings “ ... a message of peace and religious liberty to the public square.” Moreover, an official spokesman is quoted as saying that “ ... the menorah is a universal symbol of freedom and independence which totally conforms with the American ideal.”

These statements clearly say that the message of Chanuka is “religious freedom.” In effect, what this means to the average reader is to declare that the Torah teaches that Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Wiccans, and voodoo-worshippers should all be free to worship just as they please, and no one should ever in any way hinder the religious worship of anyone else—and that this is the message of Chanuka (G–d forbid).

But in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. The concept of an inherent right to express one’s religion as one wishes is not a Torah value. In fact, the concept of religious freedom as a fundamental human right is of recent historical origin. My understanding is that religious freedom has existed as a matter of government policy in various ages and societies, but it only became identified as a principle of inherent value with the rise of the Enlightenment movement. The principle of religious freedom for all is also closely tied with other secular ideas like pluralism and multiculturalism.

To be sure, to a great extent these ideas have significantly benefited the Jewish people, in that they have enabled us to observe the Mitzvos without the persecution that we suffered under the likes of the Spanish Inquisition or the Communist regime. But that merely makes these ideas useful and beneficial; it doesn’t make the concept of religious freedom inherently worthy.

And like all philosophies not directly rooted in Torah, the concept of religious freedom has had its downside. Until the rise of the Enlightenment, state-legislated discrimination against Jews was common in all European countries. The result was that assimilation into gentile society was extremely rare. Once the influence of the Enlightenment became widespread, assimilation did, as well. This was the reason that the first Chabad Rebbe, the Alter Rebbe, preferred the rule of the Czar to that of Napoleon, for although the Jews would suffer from draconian decrees under the Czar, they were safe from assimilation, while under Napoleon, freedom from oppression would be accompanied with the very tempting enticement to assimilate (Napoleon u-Tekufato, Mevorach, pp. 182–183).

Moreover, the most basic knowledge of Judaism demonstrates that the Torah rejects the notion of inherent religious freedom. When the Jewish people had the ability to maintain full military control over the Holy Land (which they do not possess today), the Torah mandates what in modern-day language would be called a theocracy. Jews who were seen committing idolatry were penalized harshly. Pagan statues and temples of pagan worship were illegal. Only non-Jews who committed to follow the Noahide laws were allowed to remain in the Land; those who refused, forfeited that right.

Can any of this be done today? No. But the reason for that is that we are in exile. We don’t live in what the Torah views as an ideal world—one in which Jews and non-Jews alike universally accept the Torah alone as the pure Truth, and follow the laws that the Torah mandates for them (with Jews following the Code of Jewish Law, and non-Jews following the Noahide Laws). But our holy prophets predict that this will take place in the age of Moshiach, and Jews hope and pray every day for this day to come.

This is not to say that the Torah seeks to promote an age of coercion. We don’t want Moshiach to come so we can force everyone to accept belief in the Torah, because “Its [the Torah’s] ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its paths are peace” (Proverbs 3:17). Rather, Moshiach will reveal the truth of Hashem’s existence and of Torah to all mankind. Mankind will then give up adherence to other religions willingly, because their former adherents will recognize the other religions to be false, and realize the absolute truth of Torah. Moshiach will then effect universal peace by settling all the quarrels between the nations. The reason he will be able to do so is that all mankind will recognize him as a holy man, and thus be confident in the justice of his rulings.

In any case, the true message of Chanuka is the exact opposite of the concept of religious freedom that treats all religions as equal. Chanuka is about the Macabbees’ insistence that Torah is the absolute truth, and Hashem alone should be worshipped, and bringing the entire world to recognize this necessity, albeit via peaceful means (for more explanation, see here).

Hellenism vs. Torah—the perennial struggle

There are two general approaches to the universe that are totally at odds with each other:

One is the view of the modern western society in which we live, which is not only secular, but secularist and humanistic. This view maintains that knowledge and wisdom have intrinsic value, and that the human mind is the most superior tool of attaining it, and is therefore the final arbiter of truth and morality. A Creator may or may not exist. If it makes sense to believe in Him, then He can be accepted, but if not, not. This was the view of Greek society and of the assimilationist Jews known as Hellenists.

In stark contrast, our holy Torah teaches that Hashem is the only true reality—“There is nothing beside Him” (Devorim 4:35)—upon which everything in the universe is totally dependent. As Rambam famously puts it at the very beginning of his magnum opus, the Mishneh Torah:

The foundation of foundations and the pillar of wisdoms is to know that there is a Primal Existence and He brings all entities into existence. And all entities from the heavens to the earth and everything in between only exist from the reality of His existence. And if you could imagine that He is not an existence, then no other entity would be able to exist.

Belief in Hashem is the basis of all wisdoms. Thus, no wisdom has any value if it is not based on the foundation of fear of Hashem, and the commitment to use this body of knowledge—which, like everything else in the world, is in fact a gift from Above—to fulfill His will. Or, as the Talmud puts it, “Everything that G–d created in His world, He created only for His glory” (Avos 6:11). This was the view for which the Maccabees fought.

The secularist view is particularly dominant in the world of academia, which arrogates for itself the right to analyze anything and everything, and classify it and define it from its “objective” standpoint.

While academia claims for itself absolute authority and true objectivity, its starting point—that G–d doesn’t necessarily exist, or necessarily doesn’t exist, G–d forbid—is false and therefore surely anything but objective.

Therefore, even when studying the same material studied by a G–d-fearing Jew, e.g., the Tanach, the secularist will reduce the timeless, precious, holy words of Hashem into an intellectual specimen for cold, detached study. He will examine social and cultural trends reflected in the Tanach that are of historical significance, all the while treating it as a work of folklore, G–d forbid. From his self-assumed all-knowing position as a skeptic of anything and everything, he will not hesitate to call into question and even reject any idea in Torah for which he finds no explanation that satisfies him. Sometimes he will not even seek an explanation, but will dismiss out of hand any idea that seems odd to him.

In contrast, the G–d-fearing Jew also studies the Talmud, but not because he desires wisdom for its own sake. Rather, he uses his G–d-given mind, and with rigorous consistency, as a means to an end—to do his utmost to understand G–d’s will. His use of his intellect does not stem from the secularist’s arrogant conviction that he can know and master all, but from humility, from the sense that truth can only be obtained by submitting one’s fallible, puny mind to G–d’s all-knowing “mind.”

Thus, he will study with the goal of grasping the reasons and deeper meaning for the Talmudic statements, and bringing them permeate his consciousness, and his daily life.

Moreover, he grasps that just as G–d is perfect, so is His wisdom. Thus, when he encounters difficulty in his Torah study, he regards it as merely a fault in him, a personal failure, and not a fault in the word of Hashem, G–d forbid.

Likewise, when a G–d-fearing Jew studies something secular, he does so with an agenda, asking himself: How can he use this knowledge to better serve Hashem?

In other words, the secularist takes the holy and makes it mundane, while the G–d-fearing Jew takes the mundane and makes it holy.

There can be no compromise between these two approaches.

This is also reflected in their respective goals for society:

The humanist awaits the time when everyone will give up the “superstition” of belief in G–d, and worship intellect alone, the deity of the humanist.

In contrast, the G–d-fearing Jew eagerly awaits the time when G–d “will be one, and His Name, one” (Zechariah 14:9), when all mankind will recognize that “all entities from the heavens to the earth and everything in between only exist from the reality of His existence,” and they will worship G–d alone.

Chanukah: Absolute truth, not pluralism!

Due to the common coincidence of Chanukah and a certain other widely celebrated non-Jewish holiday, there is a tendency in secular circles to lump them together, and for Jews and non-Jews to cheerily wish one another “happy holiday.” Which holiday, you ask? Whichever holiday one happens to be celebrating around “holiday season.”

At first glance, this seems to be a positive practice. Isn’t it important to promote darkei shalom, “ways of peace,”[1] acceptance, and goodwill between the Jewish people and the gentile nations?

In a similar vein, the holiday of Chanukah is often presented to the world by well-meaning Jewish spokespeople as a holiday celebrating religious freedom from those who seek to impose their beliefs on others. They say the story of Chanukah goes like this: The Jewish people wanted to practice their religion, the ancient Greeks oppressed them and denied them their rights, so the Jewish people courageously revolted and won, recovering their right to religious freedom. So what then is the message of the lights of Chanukah? The celebration of the universal right to religious freedom, or, in modern terminology, pluralism.

It is indeed necessary to seek creative and dynamic ways to pleasantly explain difficult concepts in Judaism, but it is unacceptable to water down the message in the process. In this case not only does the above presentation detract from the message, and not only is it is misleading, but it turns it on its head.

Let it be said unambiguously: Chanukah has nothing to do with pluralism, and its message could not be more different.

The Talmud states that the light of the Menorah in the Beis HaMikdash (the Holy Temple) was “testimony to all the world’s inhabitants that the Divine Presence rests amongst the Jewish people.”[2] “From it [the Menorah] light goes forth to the world”[3] via the “windows that were wide and narrow.”[4] The windows of the Beis HaMikdash were narrow inside and broad outside, so that light could go forth from them to the world. Ultimately, this light reached the entire universe, for the nature of light is that as long as nothing intervenes (such as clouds or physical objects) the light spreads ever further without limitation, until the ends of the universe.[5]

What was the message of this light that shone to all the nations, and that was restored when the Beis HaMikdash was miraculously recaptured by the Macabbees? It was the light of the Divine Presence, the holy light of G–d’s absolute Truth. This is the significance of the finding of the jar of pristine olive oil untouched by the Greeks, with the seal of the Kohen Gadol intact. This represents a level of pure, unadulterated truth, uncompromised and unaffected by foreign values.

Any falsehood necessarily conflicts with this truth. Thus, although other religions contain certain elements of truth, which are elements that stem from Judaism (e.g., the concept of G–d’s oneness promoted by Islam, and the concept of the Moshiach promoted by Christianity[6]), since they also contain falsehoods, these religions are incompatible with Torah. For only Torah is the “Torah of truth”[7], the absolute truth, and the other religions are, well, poor imitations.

Indeed, it is necessary to respect all mankind since they are created “in the image of G–d,”[8] and to maintain peaceful relations with non-Jews on a collective and individual level. However, it is morally wrong to distort the truth in a vain bid to make Judaism more palatable to the secular mind. Pluralism is a secular value, one that maintains that all beliefs are equally acceptable and legitimate. This idea is of course pure nonsense, for two opposite beliefs cannot both be true.[9]

The Torah rejects this fallacious philosophy and teaches that there exists absolute truth—the Torah—and everything else, which is a mixture of truth and falsehood; there exists absolute goodness—the Torah—and everything else, which is of a mixture of good and evil.[10]

Thus, the Torah does not teach that it is good and proper for non-Jews to follow other religions, or no religion, doing whatever they please as long as they don’t harm (or preach to) others, for those belief systems are predicated upon principles at odds with the divine doctrines of the Torah.

Rather, the Torah teaches that all mankind should be encouraged to recognize the One G–d of the Jewish people, and unite to follow the Noahide laws as prescribed in the Torah.[11] This is the true message of Chanukah to the world. Thus, the Rebbe encouraged[12] organizers of public Menorah lightings to take the opportunity to publicize the importance of adhering to the Noahide laws.

So let us set the record straight: In the time of the second Beis HaMikdash the Maccabees sought to serve the one true G–d, the path of absolute truth and goodness, rejecting all other religions and belief systems completely. The Greeks, who followed the evil lifestyle of hedonism and the false doctrine of paganism, sought to prevent this. However, with the help of Hashem the Jewish people fought courageously and won. Truth triumphed over falsehood, good over evil.

So may it be for us, especially with the coming of Moshiach, who will reveal the absolute Truth of G–d to the entire world, and thereby automatically vanquish atheism, paganism, and all other non-Torah beliefs forever.

[1] Gittin 61a.
[2] Shabbos 22b.
[3] Talmud Yerushalmi, Berachos, 4:5.
[4] Divrei HaYamim 6:4. Menachos 86b.
[5] Hisva’aduyos 5747, Vol. 3, pp. 491-492.
[6] See Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, 11:4, in the section removed by the censor.
[7] Blessings on the Torah.
[8] Bereishis 9:6.
[9] Likewise, wishing “happy holiday”—and not specifying which—smacks of this pluralism.
[10] The Rebbe related: “There is a famous story of the Rebbe, my father-in-law, that on one of his journeys several people were debating and expressing different opinions about the approach of Torah to the political philosophies, and with which one it is consistent. Each person pointed to a source in Torah for his philosophy. When they asked the opinion of the Rebbe, my father-in-law, he responded, ‘The Torah, since it is the ultimate truth and good, includes all the good aspects of all the other philosophies’” (Kuntres Inyanah Shel Toras HaChassidus p. 2).
[11] Mishneh Torah, Laws of Kings, 8:10.
[12] Hisva’aduyos, 5747, Vol. 2, p. 133.

Testing our love

The Previous Rebbe related:

The Mitteler Rebbe said: The Alter Rebbe consented to being taken to prison because he wanted to test the brotherly love of the chassidim, [to see] how they would take his imprisonment [another version: “how chassidim would feel his imprisonment”]. ...

The Rebbe Rashab explained this as follows: A Jewish leader [lit. “shepherd”] needs to know the state of his followers [lit. “flock”], and once the Alter Rebbe would learn that his chassidim are lacking in brotherly love, he would be able to correct this situation, and in order to complete his task of rectifying his flock, it was worthwhile for him to endanger himself!

Sefer HaSichos 5696-Choref 5700, pp. 208-209.

In my own words: As discussed earlier, a chossid relates to his Rebbe like a son relates to a father; it follows that a chossid should relate to fellow chassidim with the same love one has for siblings.

However, in an ordinary setting, the routine of daily life will often conceal a deeply-felt love, eve a love between blood siblings. So in order to test the true strength of the love between chassidim, the Alter Rebbe wanted them to be thrust into circumstances in which such love typically comes to the fore. Just as when a father is in danger, his children unite to do whatever possible to rescue him, so did the Alter Rebbe hope that when he would be imprisoned, the chassidim would unite with brotherly love. If they would not, this would indicate that this quality was lacking, and he would know to take the necessary steps to rectify it. It was so important for the Alter Rebbe to ensure that the chassidim felt true brotherly love for one another that he decided that it was warranted to endanger his life for this purpose.

We know that everything that happens to a Rebbe takes place with his consent (Likutei Dibburim, Vol. 1 p. 89). So although Hashem put the Alter Rebbe in circumstances in which he would be arrested, the Alter Rebbe consented that this process take its course. Likewise, it follows that on a certain level the Rebbe agreed to be concealed from us through his histalkus (passing) on Gimmel Tammuz.

Just as in prison the Alter Rebbe concealed himself from his chassidim with the intention of establishing the degree of brotherly love between the chassidim, so is it with us after Gimmel Tammuz. Thus, perhaps it can be inferred from the above that (at least one way of explaining) our current situation is that Hashem and the Rebbeim are testing our love for our fellow chassidim.

However, it should also be pointed out that the Previous Rebbe mentions that the Alter Rebbe agreed to be arrested in order to see how the chassidim “would take his imprisonment” or how they would “feel his imprisonment.” Either way, this expression implies that the ordeal of the Alter Rebbe’s imprisonment was also meant to test the depth of the commitment and Hiskashrus (bond) between the chassidim and the Alter Rebbe. It can therefore be inferred that in our situation as well, our Hiskashrus is being tested.

These two ideas—testing the bond of the chassidim with one another, and of the chassidim with the Rebbe—are interdependent, for, as mentioned, only by truly realizing that “we are all children of one father” can true bonding between chassidim take place.

Literally like one family

As discussed earlier, a chossid should feel a very deep, personal bond with fellow chassidim, to the extent that he relates to the other chossid just as one relates to another family member. The Frierdiker Rebbe related:

The Rebbe Maharash said to my father, the Rebbe [Rashab], that the Alter Rebbe sacrificed his holy life and invested tremendous energies with the goal of bringing the community of chassidim to be literally like one family. Every single member of the community of chassidim should seek the welfare of his fellow in matters of livelihood, and whenever one helps another, he should do so with a feeling of great love and affection, to the extent felt by those who are literally members of one family.

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 34.

Elsewhere (see Hayom Yom of 24 Tishrei) it is written that one fosters love for one’s fellow chossid through the means of a farbrengen. But that is where this feeling is created; how is it then expressed? Or, put differently, how can one discern whether one has indeed attained a true feeling of love for other chassidim?

The above sicha explains this: A chossid expresses his love for a fellow chossid by genuinely caring for his gashmiyus (material needs), and doing him material favors whenever possible—helping him out with a loan, with advice on which house to buy, or by simply inquiring how his livelihood is going (“vos macht men in parnoso”), and being genuinely interested and ready to assist however possible.

How necessary is it for a chossid to feel this way? The Rebbe Rashab taught that a chossid who lacks this feeling is spiritually deformed:

For chassidim, love for fellow [chassidim] is [according to another version: “should be”] first nature, not second nature. A chossid who lacks love for his fellow [chossid] is just as deformed as one born missing a hand or a foot.

Sefer HaSichos 5696-Choref 5700, p. 209.

Yud-Tes Kislev: Rosh Hashanah for Chassidus

It’s Yud-Tes Kislev! Gut Yom Tov! I take this opportunity to express my best wishes to all my friends, all chassidim, and all Jews: l’shono tovo b’limud haChassidus uvedarkei haChassidus tikoseivu veseichoseimu—may we be written and sealed for a good year in the study and ways of Chassidus (I discuss the difference between the two here).

The Rebbeim refer to Yud-Tes Kislev as Rosh Hashanah, and it’s not just meant as a cute metaphor. Chassidus teaches that on Rosh Hashanah the heavenly court decides all the blessings that the person will receive in the coming year. The degree to which the person is blessed depends upon the extent to which he accepts the yoke of divine sovereignty, kabolas ol Malchuso yisboreich, on Rosh Hashanah.

So, too, in the case of Yud-Tes Kislev, which we are taught is “Rosh Hashanah for Chassidus.” This title comes to teach us that our success in all areas related to Chassidus stems from the divine blessings bestowed upon us on this day. This in turn depends upon our devotion to accepting the yoke of being a chossid, i.e., committing whole-heartedly and unreservedly to internalizing all the teachings and implementing all the guidance of our Rebbeim, such that we will live our lives in the way that they prayed for and yearned for.

Put differently, we need to ask ourselves two main questions:

1. What exactly does it mean to be a Chabad chossid? What does he represent, and how is he expected to behave? What practices and standards are expected of him?

Some basic answers to this question: In-depth study of Chassidus; Avodas HaTefillah in order to internalize the Chassidus one learns and attain true ahavah v’yirah, love and fear of Hashem, and ahavas Yisrael, love of one’s fellow Jew; spreading Yiddishkeit in general, especially through the holy Mivtzo’im (Mitzvah campaigns); spreading Chassidus to every single Jew; more recently we have been told to study and teach others about Moshiach and the redemption, and spread the Rebbe’s message that the redemption is imminent. Then there are various other instructions of the Rebbeim that are too numerous to mention.

2. Are we truly committed? Are we “walking the walk” and doing the things expected of us? And even if we aren’t doing them to the fullest extent, are we taking them seriously? Are they a priority? Are they constantly in our thoughts, or are they an afterthought? Is our commitment and chassidim real, through and through, or is it wishy-washy? Do we behave as chassidim should no matter what our environment and what our company, or do we say to ourselves subconsciously, “Here I am a chossid, but there I’m not”? If we were stranded on a desert island, would we still act as chassidim just the same?

The answers to these questions naturally depend upon one’s personal situation. The common factor, however, is the need to make a cheshbon nefesh, an unflinchingly honest self-examination, so that we may know in which areas to improve. This then leads to hachlotos tovos, good resolutions to improve in whatever areas require fixing, and/or to advance yet further in the areas in which one already excels.

Gut Yom Tov!

Making Hashem our reality

I present the essay below in honor of Yud Tes Kislev. This essay is an adaptation of a maamar of the Rebbe delivered on Yud Tes Kislev of 5713.

It is written that when Moshiach comes, we will realize that during the period of exile “we had been like dreamers.”[1] Likewise, the verse “I am asleep”[2] is interpreted to refer to the sleep of the Jewish people in exile.[3] These sources demonstrate that the exile of the Jewish people is compared to sleep, while redemption is compared to wakefulness.

During sleep, the higher faculties lie dormant, most notably the faculty of sight. However, lower faculties such as hearing remain active. What do the modes of perception of hearing and sight represent?

It is written, “Hearing cannot be compared to seeing.”[4] Hearing about something is a totally different experience from seeing it.

When seeing, one does not suffice with abstract knowledge of the thing; rather, one connects with its reality. In contrast, hearing means relating to the thing in a distant, abstract manner. Although the more the topic is explained, the deeper it can be understood, it will never be real for the person if he hasn’t actually seen it. Even if he has studied the thing for many years, as long as he has not actually seen it, his connection with it is sorely limited.

Since one who hears about something but does not see it connects with it on a purely logical and theoretical level, his bond is subject to challenge and refutation. No matter how much he has studied it, and no matter how compelling the proofs he believes he has for its existence, his conviction is only as strong as those logical proofs. Thus, if he is confronted with strong questions against his way of thinking, his conviction will naturally be weakened. Eventually, these questions may become so compelling to him that he may come to reject his beliefs altogether.

It follows that even when one is fully convinced of the truth of a thing, if he has not personally seen it, his conviction is weak, for he may be confronted at any time with challenges that he may well conclude refute his view altogether.

In contrast, one who actually sees something cannot ever be dissuaded from his belief in it. Logical proofs are only relevant to establishing reality in the absence of experience. But once one has personally seen something, his conviction is absolute, and cannot even be weakened. No amount of reasoning will sway him for he will respond simply: “I saw it myself!”

Let us explain this more deeply. A thing one sees permeates every fiber of one’s being. Not one iota of the inner self remains unaffected by what one has witnessed. The reason for this is simple: when one apprehends the core reality of the thing, it touches the core of his being and becomes indelibly ingrained in him. This makes him totally certain of it, and his conviction is therefore unshakeable.

In contrast, one who has merely received a report assimilates information on a primarily intellectual level. Since this information does not permeate him, a significant part of him remains unaffected. This unaffected part thus holds the seeds of doubt, and ultimately even rejection, of his previously-held belief.

This also explains why seeing has a much deeper emotional impact. Even one who has heard something described in minute, unerring detail will be excited to physically see that thing, despite the fact that he apparently learns no new information thereby. But in reality he has learned something new—he has connected with the thing itself.

Likewise, one cannot feel a genuine yearning for something one has never seen and experienced, because that thing did not permeate him. Only when one sees the thing itself, and his inner core is deeply touched, is he capable of experiencing a profound, intense yearning to see that thing again.

Hearing and seeing are analogies for one’s relationship with Hashem. When one does not “see” G–dliness, his bond with Hashem does not permeate his personality, and his relationship with Hashem is detached, intellectual, and thus very limited.

This is the true meaning of exile—the exile within. A state in which a Jew is exiled and distant from his true inner self—his Neshama.

The Neshama lies hidden within the Jew who lives in a state of hearing. It yearns and demands to be allowed to manifest itself in every aspect of the Jew’s life, which is the meaning of inner redemption. This inner redemption consists of not sufficing with recognizing Hashem intellectually, in a way that is abstract and distant; rather, He becomes a real, tangibly-felt presence in one’s life.

Of[5] course, the ultimate level of seeing Hashem will only be attained when Moshiach arrives. However, we prepare for his coming, by striving to serve Hashem even during the era of exile in a manner of seeing, to the extent that this is possible.

One attains this through the traditional Chabad Chassidic discipline of hisbonenus, meditating upon a divine concept with tremendous concentration. This is called “gazing at the glory of the King.”[6] One should do so to the point that the divine concept becomes so real for him that it is as if he literally, palpably sees it. Although one does not literally see it, he sees with the sight of “the eyes of the mind.” However, spiritual sight is attained to an even greater degree by reflecting upon providential events in one’s personal life that point to Hashem’s ongoing active involvement, for one sees these events with sensory sight.[7]

[1] Tehillim 126:1.
[2] Shir HaShirim 5:2.
[3] Zohar 3:95a.
[4] Mechilta Yisro 19:9.
[5] The rest of the article is based on Sefer HaMa’amarim Melukat, Vol. 1, p. 299 ff.
[6] Zohar 2:247b.
[7] Sefer HaMa’amarim 5703, p. 119.

Adapted from Sefer HaMa’amarim 5711-5713, pp. 326, 327, 328.

Sometimes cold turkey is the only way

One way of overcoming one’s nature is through intense Kabbolas Ol, the Previous Rebbe writes:

You ask me for a solution to your natural inclination to constantly tell jokes. You cannot restrain yourself, and even after you feel guilty over it, all your resolutions to abandon the way of constant joking are not effective for longer than several days.

Your soul will only be saved though Kabbolas Ol—by placing a bit and a rein on your mouth, not to speak anything until you have considered carefully whether to speak or be silent. This is what you should do daily: when you wake up in the morning, place a bit and a rein on your mouth, and do not divert your attention from it the entire day, until you sleep.

The task of Kabbolas Ol in general, and for the purpose of overcoming a natural trait to which one has become accustomed in particular, is extremely difficult. However, once one realizes that this is needed in order to save one’s soul, one ought to compel oneself to overcome the test with tremendous might.

At first it will be very difficult for you, but then Hashem will help you, and from day to day the struggle will become easier, until, with the help of Hashem you will eliminate the base trait from within, and reach a state of spiritual illumination.

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 355.

The centre of the Avodah of Chassidus is improving and refining one’s character traits. There are different ways of going about this.

Sometimes one should refine a character trait slowly and painstakingly, and not try to eradicate it all at once by taking upon oneself to make an extreme, herculean effort. This is the approach expressed in the verse, “Little by little I will banish him” (Shemos 23:30).

In other cases, however, that approach will simply not work, for one will see that one finds oneself in a vicious cycle of resolving to change and reverting to one’s old ways with no end in sight. Then the only way to deal with the negative character trait is to go “cold turkey”—to resolve with tremendous determination to abandon that trait entirely, and be tremendously vigilant.

How does one know when to follow the slow approach and when to follow the cold turkey approach? Based on this letter, it would seem that when one is dealing with a bad character trait that is simply out of control, and other solutions have not worked, it’s time to follow the latter method.

The formal classification of Chabad literature

The title page of the Mitteleh Rebbe’s Bad Kodesh

The Rebbe established a publishing house called “Otzar Hachassidim”—“The Treasure of the Chassidim” to release the writings of the Rebbeim.

The Rebbe designated the collective title for the works of the Rebbeim of Chabad as “Shalsheles Ha’or”—“The Chain of Light.” Thus, the Rebbe writes in his preface to the Rebbe Rashab’s Chanoch Lenaar:

The “Otzar Hachassidim” publishing house is moving toward releasing a compilation known as “Shalsheles Ha’or.” This is a compilation of booklets, each one dedicated to one of the Nesi’im and Rebbeim of Chabad chassidim. The first ring in this chain is the light of the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov, and each link is linked to the next, until the [Previous] Rebbe, my father-in-law, shlita.

Each “link” in the chain—i.e., the works of each Rebbe—is referred to as a “heichal,” literally a “chamber” (pl. “heichalos”). There are altogether nine heichalos, one for each of the Rebbeim.

Each heichal in turn contains many “she’arim,” literally “gates” (sing. shaar). Each shaar is devoted to a different type of teaching, e.g., one for Chassidic discourses, another for letters, and yet another for halachic works, and so on. It should be noted that not all of the she’arim for the various heichalos were arranged in the same fashion.

The heichal and shaar is written on the shaar blat (title page) of the book. (This was introduced by the Rebbe, and thus not found in previous printings; for example, see the shaar blat of Pokeach Ivrim here.) For example, see here; this is the shaar blat of a volume of the Previous Rebbe’s holy letters. At the top you will see emblazoned “Library — Otzar Hachassidim — Lubavitch.” This can be found on the top of the shaar blat of all works produced by Otzar Hachassidim.

Then below it, in the top center, it is written “Kovetz Shalsheles Ha’or”—“The compilation of the chain of light,” which can be found on the top of the shaar blat of all works from the Rebbeim (unlike, for example, Reb Hillel Paritcher’s Pelach Harimon—see here). Then below it on the right it says “the eighth heichal,” for the Previous Rebbe was the eighth Rebbe when counting from the Baal Shem Tov, and on the left it is written “second shaar” to denote the section devoted to the Previous Rebbe’s letters.

Based on an article in Oholei Lubavitch, Nissan/Iyar 5755.

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, pp. 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, pp. 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 Gavriel and Rivka 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 in fact, he is only around seven months older. He too has brownish hair and looks, well, cute. It was 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 by all the 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 captured on video and publicized on prime-time news. ­­­­This made him the poster child for child victims of terror worldwide, and a prominent reminder of the reality of their plight.

What does this mean for those of us 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 provide any assistance to such orphans should do so.

Beyond that, let us derive from this the importance of cultivating 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 them, and make them feel valued.

Not only should we realize how blessed we are to have children, we should also realize how blessed our children are to have parents. For even more than parents need children, children need parents. Let us strive to 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 of fear of Hashem. This is the true victory over the terrorists and their ilk.

Moreover, as King Dovid, the sweet singer of the Jewish people, declared: “Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have found strength to destroy the enemy and avenger” (Tehillim 8:2). It is through raising Jewish children as the Torah teaches that the Jewish people prevail over their enemies.

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,