Following news of the Holy Land

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beginning of sicha of Yud Shevat, 5736.

Connecting to all the Rebbeim—via the Rebbe

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

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

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

Hisva’aduyos 5744, Vol. 1, p. 146.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The power of audio for bonding with the Rebbe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't "cut" and "stretch" Mitzvos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The inner—not hidden—dimension of Torah

The Rebbe taught:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Complementary roles: rav and mashpia

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

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

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

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

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

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

Humility leads one to kindness

The Rebbe Rashab writes:

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

Sefer HaMa’amarim 5643, p. 9.

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

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

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

Love of Hashem

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 74a) states:

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

Rashi comments:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Newspapers

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

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

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

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

Below are two quotes from sichos:

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

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

Sicha of Lech Lecha 5742.

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

Sicha of 19-20 Kislev 5744.

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

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

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

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

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

The power of audio for kedusha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Moreover, even if the person has heard the shiur several times and fully understands and remembers it, he may draw needed inspiration from reviewing it again. This is especially necessary for those who for whatever reason may not be able to attend a shiur in person that day, or live in a place where such shiurim are not available.

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

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

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

Don't take someone else's prescription!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tragedies lo alenu: A goad to Teshuva

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tolerance is contempt

The Rebbe teaches:

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

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

Likutei Sichos, Vol. 2, p. 322.

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

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

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

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

Loving rebuke

The Rebbe teaches:

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

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

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

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

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

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

[1] Yeshaya 54:9.

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

In my own words, with some explanation:

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

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

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

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

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

The Rebbe's characteristic expressions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridging the chasm between us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recognizing spiritual sickness

The Frierdiker Rebbe writes:

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

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

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

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

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

In my own words, with explanation:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The damage of depression

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Following spiritual guidance

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

The Previous Rebbe explains:

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

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

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

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

Avoiding the trap of complacency

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

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

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

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

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

Sukkah: Unity through transcending all divisions

Unlike the Mitzvah of the Four Kinds, which creates a complementary unity from individuality and multiplicity (as discussed here), the Mitzvah of Sukkah fosters an almost opposite type of unity. This unity involves reaching to a level of G–dliness so sublime that it utterly transcends all distinctions between one Jew and another.

In Chassidic parlance such a level is known as an Ohr Makif, an “encompassing light,” one that impacts upon the recipients and yet does not differentiate between the various levels they are on. This is comparable to a king’s edict, which is just as binding upon the greatest minister and the simplest subject.

This level shines in the Sukkah, and Jews unite at this level through the simple act of sitting in the Sukkah with one another.

This quality is reflected in the very dimensions of the Sukkah, which does not touch the person sitting in it, but surrounds his head, body, and feet equally. This is indicative of the nature of the divine revelation in the Sukkah, which does not relate to the unique individuality of each Jew at all. Instead, it transcends these (important but ultimately) external qualities. Likewise, all Jews who sit in the Sukkah, both the great scholar and the small child, are physically surrounded in the same manner; this symbolizes the nature of the spiritual unity that they accomplish with one another by sitting in the Sukkah.

This fits nicely with one of the opinions recorded in the Talmud (ibid. 11b)—which is also the way Rashi explains it in his commentary on Chumash (Vayikra 23:43)—which maintains that the Sukkah is symbolic of the Clouds of Glory (which accompanied the Jewish people on their journey through the desert), which encompassed the entire Jewish people equally. This is also the deeper meaning of the Talmudic dictum: “All Jews are fit to sit in one Sukkah” (Sukkah 27b)—alluding to the fact that in the Sukkah we connect with a level at which all Jews are literally equal.

Based on Sefer HaMa’amarim Melukat, Vol. 4, p. 23, and ibid, Vol. 1, p. 166.

4 Kinds: Individuality, complementarity, and unity

The Midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 30:12) teaches that the four kinds that we “shake” on Sukkos are symbolic of the four different types of Jews, taste representing Torah knowledge and a pleasant aroma representing good deeds:

• Esrog (unusual citrus fruit): has taste and a pleasant aroma, and thus represents those who are both accomplished Torah scholars and doers of good deeds;

• Lulav (a frond from a palm tree): has tasty dates, but no aroma, representing dedicated Torah scholars;

• Haddasim (myrtle branches): only has a pleasant aroma, representing those who excel in good deeds but not in Torah study;

• Arovos (willow branches): have neither taste nor fragrance, which represents the simple Jews who, though lacking distinction through Torah scholarship or good deeds, serve Hashem with simple faith.

(It should be noted that everyone should (and is obligated to!) study Torah, but only some can be said to excel in Torah study. Similarly, everyone should engage in good deeds, but only some are meant to do so in an exceptional manner.)

After explaining this teaching to a beginner, he commented: “So we should all become Esrogim!”

I responded that according to my understanding, this is incorrect. Although the combination of Torah study and good deeds is clearly a special quality, it may also have a drawback. Those Jews who lack excellence in Torah knowledge but are dedicated to helping others typically (but not always) excel in their good deeds more than those who engage in both Torah study and good deeds. The same goes for dedicated Torah scholars who do not engage in good deeds vis-a-vis those who do not. Likewise, as mentioned, those who lack other qualities but serve Hashem with simple faith excel in the purity of their faith. Thus, each Jew should excel in the area/s in which s/he is gifted.

The Midrash says that the act of bringing together the four kinds represents creating unity between the four different types of Jews.

Most of the time we have little difficulty realizing our own talents and skills. However, recognizing and appreciating the good qualities of others, especially when their areas of excellence differ radically from one’s own, is not so easy. It requires the humility to understand that as great as one may (or may not!) be, one is only a part of the whole, a whole that is fundamentally lacking without the vital contributions of everyone. Even the Esrog Jew needs to unite with the other kinds through recognizing their respective virtues, which in a sense he lacks (as explained).

When each person both maximizes his own individual potential, and recognizes that he is an integral part of a whole, then he can truly complement others, and together they can attain the special common goal that can only be reached through this process of uniting through complementing.

Public displays of Jewish observance

Nowadays the way to garner the respect of non-Jews is through public, unabashed demonstrations of Jewish observance:

The honor of the Jewish people should be revealed by performing activities of goodness and holiness in a way that is apparent to all, including the gentile nations. This is along the lines of the verse: “And all the nations of the earth will see that the Name of G–d is called upon you [and they will fear you]” (Devarim 28:10). The Talmud interprets: “This refers to Tefillin on the head” (Berachos 6a). A similar principle applies to all areas of Torah and Mitzvos, for “The entire Torah is compared to Tefillin” (Kiddushin 35a).

Hisva’aduyos 5749, Vol. 4, p. 111.

In past generations, Jews would generally keep to themselves, and for good reason. It was felt that public displays of Jewish identity would likely provoke unhealthy attention from our non-Jewish neighbors. It might be interpreted as an attempt to proselytize them, and arouse their animosity, which could lead to them harming us, G–d forbid.

However, nowadays, thank G–d, we live in a different time, in which the opposite is the case. When we serve Hashem proudly and fearlessly, this evokes the respect and awe of the non-Jews around us.

Painful silence

I recently visited 770 and saw an old friend, Reb Nachman Holtzberg. I never had the good fortune to meet his son Gaby (may his blood be avenged), but as a student in 770 some seven years ago, I was friendly with Reb Nachman. He invited me over to his house for Shabbos meals several times, helped me a bit in seeking a shidduch, and we would chat from time to time. I don’t think I’d spoken to him for a number of years, being that I have lived abroad.

When I saw Reb Nachman, I felt that I should approach him, but ... I hesitated. What would I say? What could I say? I couldn’t think of anything at all to say. So I didn’t approach him. I didn’t decide that I wouldn’t. I just didn’t feel that I was ready.

But he noticed me, approached me, greeted me, and inquired how my life is going. We exchanged pleasantries. And then ... there was an awkward, painful pause. I looked at his face, into his face, and saw a person totally broken. I was supposed to comfort him, I knew. I searched frantically in my mind for something to say, anything, but nothing I thought of could begin to do justice to his suffering. Those few seconds were interminable. Finally, after an eternity, I eked out a pathetic “men zol heren besuros tovos”—“may we hear good news.”

I had failed. He threw up his hands as if to say “what will that help?”—or so I interpreted it.

After he bid me farewell, I rebuked myself. How could I have had nothing to say?! Why did I feel I needed hours of preparation before consoling a fellow Jew? I know that (like countless others) I was deeply affected by the murder of Gaby, his wife Rivka, and the other Jews in the Chabad House of Mumbai (as my blog posts of that time attest). So why couldn’t I speak? Where was the sensitivity and love I should display toward my fellow Jew?

Or perhaps it is the other way around. Maybe I couldn’t speak because I cared so much. I don’t know.

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The Previous Rebbe relates:

When the Mitteler Rebbe settled in Lubavitch 5572-3 (1812-3), Reb Moshe Shlomo became very sick, and for a year and a half he suffered greatly. His father-in-law Reb Yisroel Meir the melamed would frequently write letters to the Mitteler Rebbe asking that he plead for divine mercy on Reb Moshe Shlomo’s behalf, but it didn’t help at all.

On Lag Be’Omer of the year 5576 (1816), when the Mitteler Rebbe was sitting together with his brothers Reb Chaim Avrohom and Reb Moshe, and with his sons-in-law and many chassidim at the Lag Be’Omer meal, Reb Yisroel Meir the melamed approached the Mitteler Rebbe with a note on behalf of his son-in-law, Reb Moshe Shlomo, saying that this is the second month that his son-in-law had been so sick that he couldn’t speak.

The Mitteler Rebbe gazed for a long time at the note, and said: “For the sickness of tuberculosis it is good to have a change of climate. Let him come here and hear Chassidus, and he will be able to speak, and have what to speak about.

Kuntres Divrei Yemei HaChozrim, p. 9.

Why weren’t Reb Yisroel Meir’s requests effective before? We do not know. But we do know that the Mitteler Rebbe regarded Lag Be’Omer as a very great day, one on which he would perform miracles (see HaYom Yom 18 Iyar), and the fact that it was not until this special day that his plea was effective teaches us a lesson.

From time to time we mark special days in the general Jewish calendar or in the Chassidic calendar, and when each day comes along, we are told that it has special significance. However, in order to connect with the special quality of this day, conscious effort is required, because the external world looks the same. “How is today different from yesterday?” one may ask. Yet one who expends the necessary effort learns that today is indeed very different from yesterday.

Pesach, Sukkos, Chanukah, Purim, Lag Be’Omer, Pesach Sheni, 15 Av, 19 Kislev, 11 Nissan, 3 Tammuz, and so on—all these days can be summed up with one word: opportunities.

On each of these days a special spiritual light shines that only shines once a year, and when we do something to connect with this light—by learning about the meaning of the day, davvenen with it, farbrengen about it, reflecting upon it, and trying our best to connect with it, then it can raise us up to a certain otherwise unattainable spiritual level.

Perhaps this is comparable to the concept of a sale. All year round, the customer is expected to pay full price, and no bargains are accepted. When the store holds a sale, however, one can purchase the same product on discount for a fraction of the price. But once the sale is over, it is too late to grab those bargains—one has no choice but to wait until the next sale.

Likewise, when a special day arrives, Hashem in His kindness is granting us a special, limited time offer. If we are wise, we will make the most of it.

Missing the fairs

Sometimes Chabad chassidim are distinguished by the things they do, but at other times they are distinguished by the things they don’t do. I don’t mean neglect, but minhogim (Jewish customs) that our Rebbeim taught us not to follow practices followed by others. Here is a partial list. We

• do not grow long pei’yos (sidelocks—see Igros Kodesh, Vol. 20, pp. 9-10);
• do not sleep in the Sukkah (see , Vol. 20, p. 211 ff.);
• do not eat shalosh se’udos (the third meal of Shabbos—see Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 21, pp. 84-88), although we do eat a morsel—see HaYom Yom here;
• recite a nusach (prayer text) in which certain prayers and hymns are omitted, such as Aanim zemiros, Veshomru, Yigdal, and so on;
• do not recite Selichos in the Aseres Yemei Teshuva.

This creates a sort of anomaly. On the one hand, as Chabad chassidim we believe that the derech of Chassidus Chabad is the highest form of serving Hashem. At the same time, at first glance this appears to be contradicted by the fact that in a number of areas we customarily do less.

Perhaps the following story can resolve this:

Once I had a private audience with the Rebbe, and the subject turned to the greatness of the Mincha prayer of Erev Shabbos. I asked the Rebbe to explain the reason that for the Lubavitch custom not to recite Shir HaShirim on Erev Shabbos. He told me that the Baal HaTanya was once asked why he doesn’t recite Veshomru and Shir HaShirim, which are known to cause a great fair in the supernal realms. He answered that “one doesn’t need to attend all the fairs.”

The Rebbe said to me that he asked his father-in-law, the Previous Rebbe, for an explanation. His father-in-law answered, “Certainly at the time of Erev Shabbos he was at a more important fair, and thus he doesn’t have any free time to take part in this fair.”

The Rebbe asked further: “I can understand that the Rebbe is at a higher fair, but why don’t the chassidim recite Shir HaShirim, since it causes such a sublime fair.” His father-in-law responded, “When the Rebbe is at a more important fair, he drags all his chassidim and those bound with him along as well; thus, they too don’t have time to take part in the other fair.”

Told by Rabbi Garalnik of Nitro.

See also Piskei HaSiddur here, where a slightly different version of the story is told:

There is a story oft-told among chassidim that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, the in-law of the Alter Rebbe, sent him a message (or told him): “When Jews recite the prayer of Veshomru on the night of Shabbos, a fair is held in the heavens; if so, why did you institute that it not be recited?” The Alter Rebbe responded: “A fair is also held in the heavens from the juxtaposition of the prayer of redemption to the Amida (smichas geula litefilla), and one cannot be at all the fairs.”

So why don’t we follow these and other sublime minhogei Yisroel (Jewish customs) and benefit from the sublime divine revelations that they bestow? Because through our Hiskashrus (bond) to the Rebbeim of Chabad, at that time we are connecting with other even more sublime levels of divine revelation that supersede these other customs. This principle may be applied in various other areas as well.

Segregation in schools

Although the directives below concerning segregation in schools should be obvious to one and all, I believe it is “a Mitzvah to publicize” because I have observed that it is neglected in some cases:

Great Caution in Gender Segregation is Praiseworthy

Concerning your question whether to establish a girls school in [the city of] Michnaz, this is certainly proper, and not just in Michnaz, but also in other places. However, one must be particular that they not be together with the boys. This means that not only should the boys and girls not learn in the same classroom, but the school should be built such that each gender enters and leaves from a separate entrance. Furthermore, it is preferable that the two schools be housed in separate buildings and streets, for the greater the caution in such matters, the more one is praiseworthy.

Igros Kodesh, Vol. 6, p. 33.

All Schools Require Segregation

I emphasised that my demand for the principle of segregation in Chabad institutions is not exclusive to Chabad institutions, but my opinion is clear that the same applies to all schools. In this lowly, orphaned generation this is not merely a religious question but also one of ethics and modesty in the most simple sense. This can be seen in the institutions where this principle is not practised, where the disastrous consequences have increased to such an extent that despite every effort to conceal them and prevent unpleasant publicity, from time to time they break out and become communal knowledge.

Igros Kodesh, Vol. 14, p. 434.

Segregation Is Equally Necessary For Gentiles

This is not a matter exclusive to the Jewish religion, (although that alone should be more than enough) for gentiles have also in recent years begun to see the harm of mixed schooling. The alarming situation is well known to the teachers of these schools, but for understandable (though unacceptable) reasons it is hushed up. In any case, since ultimately the main thing is to fix the actual situation, [in your case] this matter could be approached differently. By increasing the number of students there will be a need [for a division of classes and] a new teacher, or at least an assistant teacher, and it is possible that if they sense that one is aiming for segregation, and for the above reason [i.e. the need for a division of classes], they will turn a blind eye to the true reason, for there will be an opening for an honourable retraction.

Igros Kodesh, Vol. 16, p. 284.

Segregation Is An Ethical and Educational Imperative

In reality, segregation is not merely a question of religion, but also an ethical and even an educational one, to which the heart readily consents, for the staggering devastation caused by co-education is well-known from an ethical and even a basic educational standpoint. The student’s attention is distracted from his studies, impinging on his academic progress ... With the appropriate and persistent explanation, those who have the ability to correct this matter can surely be convinced to do so ...

A man is compared to a tree. Just as even a tiny scratch in a soft sapling can cause a deformation in a large tree, so is it with a child. Thus alacrity is particularly needed in matters of education.

Igros Kodesh, Vol. 17, p. 29.

Inner versus eternal reality

One of the core differences between the secular world-view that enshrines moral relativism and that of the Torah, which teaches timeless, eternal truth, is that according to the secular world-view, reality is determined by externalities, while according to the Torah, the internal, spiritual reality is the true one. Here are some examples.

• Modern thinkers, buoyed by the tremendous accomplishments of science and technology, have dismissed religious belief as outdated and silly, superstitious and uncultured. So how then did the world come to exist? It just evolved all by itself. First there was a primordial mass, that exploded somehow or other, and developed slowly for many billions of years, until the universe as we know it came to exist!

But no amount of highfaluting sophistry can alter the basic principle that order cannot emerge from disorder. As astronomer Fred Hoyle famously declared, the theory of evolution is as unlikely as a 747 forming out of a tornado in a junkyard. Rather, a design reflects upon a designer, and the more complex and intricate the design, the more one is compelled to reach this conclusion. Our world in all its virtually infinite complexity exists because Hashem created it, and asserting otherwise cannot change this.

• These days, if a man has undergone an operation that surgically removes his private parts, and takes hormone “therapy” and wears feminine clothes and declares that he is now a she, it is considered objectionable to reject this claim, and improper to refer to this person as a he.

But in reality, the artificial removal or minimization of certain typical gender traits and practices cannot change the inner self. Gender is not a matter of whim and preference. Hashem “hardwired” into the core of a person’s identity ever since he separated Adam from Chava.

• According to civil law in certain areas, euthenasia is permissible, for they deem the person to have the inalienable right to choose between his own life and death.

According to Torah, however, actively ending a life is an act of murder regardless of one’s humane intentions, for one’s life is not subject to forfeiture.

• Some people consider themselves Jewish because they have distant Jewish ancestry or Jewish friends, or because they like Jewish food or Jewish literature ... or because they took a conversion course at a reform temple. Others who were born Jewish have come to tragically reject their identity, and (at least on the surface) identify themselves as no different from the non-Jews around them.

However, Jewishness is a status conferred by Hashem, and thus only He is qualified to decide who has it. He revealed His will in the Halacha (Jewish law), which declares categorically that Jewishness is not a matter of personal choice and preference, or even of belief and conviction. Rather, only one who was born of a Jewish mother or was converted according to Halacha can be considered Jewish. Conversely, when one who does fall under one of these two categories claims that he is no longer Jewish, his declaration cannot be accepted. His Jewishness is at the core of his inner self, and is therefore not subject to change through any external action.

• Certain Arabs have declared that they are entitled to a portion of the Land of Israel, or all of it, because in their way of thinking, it belongs to them. They have terrorized Jews and cruelly murdered thousands of innocents in a bid to promote this agenda. In a craven effort to appease these filthy murderers, certain politicians have ceded certain segments of the Land of Israel to these non-Jews. These concessions are invariably “honored” with solemn declarations of a desire for peace and harmony, brotherhood and cooperation.

But Hashem gave the Land of Israel to the Jewish people—the entire Jewish people—as an eternal gift. The external act of physically handing over parts of the land to non-Jews cannot change this fundamental fact. So although non-Jews who receive land from Jews come to physically control it, they do not in fact acquire it. Instead, they become robbers, or, to use a popular expression, illegal occupiers. Thus, in reality ceding them land is spiritually detrimental (not only for the Jewish people, but also) for them, and against their own best interest.

In light of the above, I believe that part of the struggle to cast off insidious secular attitudes (see here) consists of consciously training ourselves to become attuned to the deeper reality of the world in which we live. In order to accomplish this in the deepest sense, it is neccessary to study the “inner,” mystical dimension of Torah. This enables one to see within everything one sees in the world the true inner character and purpose of that thing, and this in turn guides one in how to relate to it according to the wishes of Hashem.

Passionate yearning, determined action

The Previous Rebbe writes:

The core meaning of the terms ratzo and shov is as follows:

Ratzo refers to an intense yearning and longing, in which one on a lower level desires and yearns for something above him.

Shov, in contrast, refers to the calming and relaxing of this intense desire. This brings the person to return to what he was doing earlier, and with intensified devotion.

The entire reason that one yearns for the higher one is that one truly appreciates the greatness of the higher one, and feels deeply bound up with him. Then his deep understanding of the wishes of the higher one induces him to return to his original place, and to apply himself to implementing the wishes of the higher one.

Imagine a student devoted to his teacher with every fiber of his being, to the point that his greatest desire is to be near his teacher. When he is near him, he absorbs every word of his teacher’s teachings and guidance, and these teachings develop within him like a seed sown in fertile soil, that produces fine fruit. Even as the teacher engages in apparently mundane talk and superficial gestures related to organizing simple areas of his life, the committed student will regard it as containing an important lesson that provides him with a fountain of guidance in all areas of his conduct.

Understandably, when such a student becomes separated from his teacher, he feels as if he is separating from his life. Nothing in the world can separate him from his teacher, for in his eyes everything is utterly worthless in comparison with this bond.

Let as imagine that the teacher decreed that this student part from him and spend time in a certain place, as dictated by his teacher. The teacher then assigns a certain task to him in this place, and prescribes a course of study for him, and how he should behave in all areas.

Although the student finds it difficult to part from his teacher, he obeys the decree with the same meticulousness and caution to which he is accustomed in his bond with his teacher. However, since his entire being is devoted to this teacher, even while he is in this other place, he craves and yearns for his teacher. On the contrary, because he is there his yearning for his teacher becomes very intense, to the point that his soul feels that it is about to expire. For he remembers the days of old when he stood before his teacher, and then what he heard, listened, and observed all comes back to him, and he becomes drawn into these thoughts. At that moment he is entirely trembling, and almost about to expire from this pleasant sensation, for his soul craves to return to the state of being in which he stood in the presence of his teacher.

However, while he is still alive, he suddenly recalls his teacher’s decree, who ordered him to be where he is now, and that his teacher’s true wish is that he be where he is. The student’s intense, powerful desire for his teacher, and his devotion and submission to the teacher’s wishes, bring him to a state of external calmness and inner passion.

The teacher’s decree brings him to a state of external calmness, and his intense inner desire is then channeled into a passion in fulfilling the action that his teacher ordered him to do. The reason for this is that the only strand that unites him with his teacher is the fulfillment of the command. This bonds him with his teacher until he becomes truly united with him, as he was originally. It therefore follows that he then invests all his passion and yearning for his teacher into the action that his teacher commanded him.

The intense yearning of the student and his consistent, devoted work affect the teacher as well, and he turns his attention to the student with a beaming face, for “As water reflects a face [so does man’s heart reflects the man]” (Mishlei 27:19). The reason for this is that the teacher profoundly understands the student’s entire soul journey, his inner ordeal and all his emotions: his tremendous yearning for the teacher—ratzo; his external calmness—shov; and his unlimited inner passion to fulfill his teacher’s command. The teacher understands this because the inner core of the teacher’s being is that he every thing he understands, he grasps in the purity of its essence. This causes the teacher to turn his attention to his student with a beaming face, and to shine upon him a bright light even from afar, via hidden methods that are known only in the emotions of the heart, as the saying goes, “the heart feels.”

Now, if you will take this analogy to heart and apply your mind firmly in an effort to understand it, you will understand the meaning of the words ratzo and shov—how a true ratzo brings one to a shov, and the shov elicits an even more sublime revelation, such that one comes to perceive with yet more illumination, purity, and clarity. ...

In conclusion, the ratzo leads to the shov, which brings the one with the ratzo to a higher level. This means that not only does the shov elicit a divine revelation from above, but the person himself rises to a higher level.

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 2, pp. 422-423-424.

This analogy is so poignant. To sum it up:

Ratzo means yearning to transcend the limitations of the external world and connect with infinite G–dliness, and when one realizes that the true method of connecting with Hashem is through performing Mitzvos within the world, it leads to shov. Shov performed after ratzo is totally different, for it is permeated with the intense love of Hashem and passionate desire to connect to Him that characterizes the ratzo. When one performs the shov in this way, he is in turn elevated to a spiritual level even higher than that reached while in a state of ratzo.

It should also be noted that this letter indicates that the meaning of the terms ratzo and shov are not as often conceived. It is widely thought that ratzo means connecting with the spiritual, while shov means connecting with the physical. This is simply incorrect. Ratzo refers to an intense yearning to rise to a higher level, while shov consists of quenching and therefore calming that yearning through actions that bond one with that higher level.

On another note: Although it is not written in so many words, there is no question in my mind that the Previous Rebbe is using the analogy of a chossid and a Rebbe. Although this description presents a much higher level relationship than is common nowadays between a Rebbe and a chossid, it is a powerful expression of what we should strive for as chassidim in our deep personal bond with the Rebbe and in our devotion to implementing his directives.

And how relevant this analogy is for us in our current circumstances, living as we do in a time in which we cannot physically see our Rebbe. The lesson is clear: For the meantime it has been decreed that on the surface, we as chassidim should be “distant” from the Rebbe. However, during this time of separation we need to make a point of regularly reminding ourselves of the Rebbe, and becoming inspired with a yearning to stand again in his holy presence and directly hear Chassidus from him again. Yet at the same time we should remember that the Rebbe has charged us with a vital mission, and by carrying out this mission with devotion we transcend the external, physical separation between us, and maintain a very deep, mutual bond with the Rebbe.

The role of the personal Rav

The Rebbe instructed each chossid to fulfill the dictum of the Mishnah: “Asei lecha Rav”—“Appoint for yourself a teacher” (Avos 1:6), a personal guide and mentor.

Of course, the Rav needs to be intelligent, knowledgeable, sensitive, insightful, and so on. However, although these qualities are necessary, they are more external. The Rav’s ability to advise us depends upon his bittul to Hashem, and for chassidim, part of bittul to Hashem is bittul to the Rebbe, who is the “intermediary who joins” us with Hashem. So one should seek a Rav who possesses this quality. Then the Rav’s role is not to tell us ideas of his own, but to explain to us what the Rebbe wants of us.

Thus, when we go to a Rav for counsel, we do not go to him as an individual (albeit one with wisdom and experience), but as an extension of the Rebbe, for “one’s agent is the legal equivalent of oneself” (Nedarim 35b).

Don't hesitate to take action!

From time to time, one may be confronted by a difficult predicament. One notices that a certain area of practice is neglected, or a breach has not been rectified, but one hesitates to take action because one sees that respected members of the community, who may even be aware of the situation, are doing nothing.

The Rebbe addresses this concern in the sicha below:

There are things about which the leaders of the generation are silent, and yet this does not always prove that nothing need be done, and that calculation and scholarly reasoning must be used to slip one’s way out of it. If one sees that he can do something, he must do it. The fact that those greater than him say nothing may be similar to the fact that Pinchas was granted the opportunity to slay Zimri in order to become a Cohen. This was his portion that he was destined to refine, and only by doing so could he attain personal perfection.

Likutei Sichos, Vol. 2, p. 342.

The leader of the tribe of Shimon, Zimri, committed the public sin of taking a Midianite woman into his tent, Kozbi, and sinning with her. This caused a plague to spread among the Jewish people. Pinchas was the only one to remember the law taught by Moses that “If one has relations with a gentile woman, zealots may kill him” (Sanhedrin 81b). Even Moshe himself forgot this law. When Pinchas slew Zimri and Kozbi, the plague ceased. Hashem then rewarded him by granting him and all his descendants the status of Kohanim. Rashi on Bamidbar 25:6 says that the reason Moshe forgot the law was “so that Pinchas would come and take that which was fit for him”—i.e., the reward of priestly status.

So if one observes a community leader doing nothing about a certain issue, one should not necessarily conclude that this proves that no action is necessary, or that that leader is at fault for his inaction. Regardless of whether the leader is at fault, the one who sees clearly that a certain task needs to be done for the benefit of the community, and sees that he is able to carry it out, should know that this is his personal duty, and that the reason that he noticed this problem and that he is in a position to fix it, is that in so doing he will reach his personal tikkun, the rectification of his Neshama.

Following examples

It pains me to write the post below, but I believe that it needs to be said.

In the letter posted earlier here the Mitteler Rebbe condemns the misconception widespread at the time amongst Chabad chassidim that walking during tefilla is conducive to better concentration and hisbonenus. May I suggest that this also teaches us another lesson.

Sometimes people will argue that “such-and-such a practice is correct, because it is widely followed amongst chassidim.”

There is legitimacy to this claim. For example, see the Rebbe’s response (Igros Kodesh, Vol. 17, p. 205) to whether a certain part of the nusach (prayer liturgy) should be said. The Rebbe writes: “It appears to me that Anash (i.e., Chabad chassidim) say it.” The implication is that there is such a thing as a “custom of chassidim”—that when we observe that in practice a certain thing is customarily said or done, this shows that this custom is proper.

However, in my humble opinion, at the same time, one must be somewhat wary. We see that even in the times of the Mitteler Rebbe odd practices became widespread among otherwise sincere chassidim—practices that were in fact baseless, damaging, and the exact opposite of the true instructions of the Alter Rebbe and the Mitteler Rebbe. (See also Kuntres HaHispa’alus here, where the Mitteler Rebbe condemns another widespread misconception amongst his chassidim—the notion that all excitement in prayer is undesirable.) If it could even happen then, it could surely happen nowadays, for we live in a world in which, like it or not, we are far more prone to being subconsciously swayed by foreign influences. And sadly, this is is all the more of a concern after Gimmel Tammuz, when we do not have the Rebbe keeping us in line by correcting us “from above,” along the lines of the above letter of the Mittele Rebbe.

Of course, if the Rebbe explicitly said something, then chassidim should certainly follow it. However, if the Rebbe didn’t, and it is just something that “people do,” then perhaps one should think twice—especially if one senses that what is being promoted may be problematic. One should not automatically accept a claim that “in fact the Rebbe meant/wants” such-and-such without investigating it further and discussing it with a mashpia or a Rov, to see if perhaps this notion or practice being presented as proper does in fact contradict some idea in the teachings of our Rebbeim, or in our Torah in general.

Designating a place for tefilla

This week’s parsha tells of the Jews who were dying in the plague, and of Pinchas, who prayed for them. Of this it is written: “Pinchas stood and prayed, and the plague stopped” (Tehillim 106:30).

This brings us to the topic of standing in one place during prayer, as the Gemoro (Berachos 6b) says:

Rabbi Chelbo said in the name of Rav Huna: Whoever designates a permanent place for his prayer, the G–d of Avraham assists him. And when he dies, it is said of him, “Woe, such a humble person; woe, such a pious person, among the students of Avraham our father!” From where do we know that Avraham our father designated a place? As it says, “Avraham arose early in the morning [and went to] the place where he had stood” (Bereshis 19:27) and “standing” means prayer, as it says, “Pinchas stood and prayed” (Tehillim 106:30).

Below I have compiled sources from the Rebbeim of Chabad on this topic:

The Alter Rebbe writes in a holy letter:

Once the Chazan begins the prayer of Hodu no one in the room where the Minyan is held may walk back and forth; it is especially forbidden to walk in front of those who are praying. This is completely forbidden by law of the Talmud. One who violates this should be distanced [from visiting the Alter Rebbe].

From the “Enactments of Liozna”—Igros Kodesh Admur HaZaken, p. 104. See also here.

The Mitteler Rebbe writes in his holy letters:

I have personally observed on several occasions an evil custom, one that has evolved amongst the masses of Chabad chassidim from great to small, though it is not intentional, for they do not know the root of the matter. Each one looks at his fellow and the young look at the adults, until the custom spread widely that one cannot concentrate on meditation [on Hashem’s greatness] in prayer unless one walks back and forth during prayer from corner to corner and runs with all his might as if he is greatly preoccupied with meditation. However, if he stands in his place, [it is thought that] he will attain nothing in his profound concentration and [efforts at] comprehension.

Oh, my brothers, do not treat my words lightly. They are said with sincerity, so may they be accepted eagerly, for they are said purely for your benefit. In worldly matters will any intelligent person say that walking and haste foster better concentration? Even in worldly matters it is the opposite—if one wishes to concentrate and make one’s mind up about something, he should stand or sit and reflect. Unless he is already very preoccupied, in which case he may come to pace back and forth automatically, without even realizing it at all. This is in fact the cause for this wicked, erroneous practice that has evolved among Chabad chassidim from times of old, for they witnessed those of a high caliber meditating and excited, who in their preoccupation would run around tirelessly.

This too is imaginary, and in fact Hashem does not desire these people. For if one does indeed have what to concentrate on, he should sit specifically in his place, and return to Hashem with a lowly spirit, for he should know before Whom he stands. As is known, the whole concept of prayer in its root is founded on standing. This is known as “designates a permanent place for one’s prayer,” and it is written of anyone who does this that “the G–d of Avraham assists him, as it is written, ‘[Pinchas] stood [and prayed]’ (Tehillim 106:30), and standing refers [only to prayer].”

The ones who know [mystical concepts] are aware of the secret of the matter: Standing is an external form of nullification, with one’s body. This is higher than internal nullification [to Hashem] in one’s mind and heart. The proof is from a mortal king, before whom the main nullification is external. All the profound intentions one should engage in during Shemonah Esrei are said while standing. The same goes for Pesukei Dezimra and Shema and its blessings—it must all be said standing in one place, and one must know before Whom one stands ...

However, when we speak of reflecting upon G–d’s blessed Essence, it must be in a state of nullification while standing specifically in one place, as Eliyahu said: “By the life of Hashem before Whom I stood” (Melachim 1:17:1). We find the same concept in several verses, such as “Avraham was still standing [before Hashem]” (Bereishis 18:22), etc. The verses “walk before Me and be pure” (ibid. 17:1) and “Hashem, before Whom I have walked” (ibid. 24:40) refers to [one’s conduct] every day—that one should walk in the ways of G–d, and not deviate to the right or left, as is known to all.

It should not be necessary to explain something that is obvious to children. This declaration of mine is only intended to eradicate [this idea] from the hearts of those who erroneously attribute [their behavior to the example of] the great ones, who did not know [proper conduct], and after whom the masses followed, who did not even understand the meaning of the words [of prayer]. They too walk around while in deep concentration.

What a disgrace and tremendous desecration of Hashem’s name has resulted from this foolish custom. It cannot be described in text how much this has caused damage in all areas that require the acceptance of the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven and [of internalizing] Chassidus, etc. The wise ones will grasp these words of truth, and let the adults warn and command the young ones, and may this matter be abolished as if it never existed.

It is my duty to remind those who strive for this all their lives that they should remove sorrow and groaning from the heart of every man who trembles before Hashem and has pity for the honor of his G–d, which has been desecrated without any benefit at all. I testify that they should increase light specifically through the divine service of deep concentration, but they should not make breaches through walking, that is so idle and empty that it cannot be written. I witnessed all these walkers with my very own eyes, and my heart broke within me at these vain fancies. How long will the Satan dance?!

Thus, my beloved brothers, if you truly desire the closeness of Hashem, you will not listen to the voice of those who spread vain rumors. Rather, you will believe me in everything that I write, that this walking is nothing but foolishness and a rejection of the yoke [of the kingdom of Heaven]. It is merely a habit and a practice learned from what their eyes saw. Turn aside from this path of foolishness, which prevents [one from coming close to Hashem]. Every city and Minyan that accepted these words of truth should inform me, and then I will know that they are faithful to Chassidus, etc. They should do as follows: The Gabbai should declare before prayer: “Let there be a pleasant silence, with prayer aloud,” and also a warning against walking.

The words of the one who pleads, and seeks your welfare with sincerity.

Igros Kodesh Admur Ha’Emtzai, pp. 310, 311, 312.

... Oh, how bitter it is for me when I see those who walk during davvenen from one corner to another, preoccupied with their thoughts that are empty and dry of any excitement; in my opinion it is clear that the light of Hashem has never touched them in their lives.

Kuntres HaHispaalus, Sefer Hamaamorim Kuntreisim, p. 42.

... One should pay no attention to those who become engrossed in their thoughts and walk back and forth. It has already been pointed out that these walkers should be stopped, and every person should stand in his place ...

Igros Kodesh Admur Ha’Emtzai, p. 274. See also this letter from the Rebbe, the Tzemach Tzedek.

The Rebbe Rashab writes in Kuntres HaTefillah:

One should also stand in one place during prayer, and not walk back and forth.

Firstly, walking around during prayer distracts one from concentration and contemplation. Some people fool themselves, and claim that specifically when they walk around they are able to mediate better, with a sense of expansion in their mind and heart. This is a complete mistake, for this is nothing but a superficial expansion of the spirit and a sensation of the self; however, it has no internal impact. [On the contrary,] for one to attain true meditation in an expanded state of mind, in a manner that will affect him one internally, walking around detracts.

Moreover, it is unavoidable that [one who paces back and forth] will see everything that is happening inside and outside, and this will bother and distract him. Therefore one should stand in one place, and focus his mind and heart on prayer alone.

Kuntres HaTefillah