Being a chossid is about inner change

Being a chossid is about inner change

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

The Previous Rebbe once spoke very harshly against a trend toward superficiality that he observed:

Nowadays so-called young chassidic men (“chassidishe yungerleit”) are supposedly becoming chassidim on their own. They are educating themselves and guiding themselves, so alas, we can understand what sort of education it is, and what sort of guidance it is.


The young chassidic men of today have made peace with the enemies of Chassidus of old, such as hypocrisy, falsehood, talebearing, gossip, arrogance, insolence, and bad-heartedness. It is only that they wrap it up in superficial, supposedly chassidic garb.


Do not be offended that I describe all these things with their true names. Sometimes one must articulate the truth, and plead for divine compassion that [Hashem should help us to] have compassion upon ourselves, and see what sort of spiritually chaotic situation we are in.


The young chassidic men of today, and even those who learned in the chassidic Yeshivos, are also becoming dragged along by the trend toward the alien attitude of superficiality [“chitzoniyus”].


This is the attitude that one becomes a chossid through superficial Chassidic practices such as attending a farbrengen, participating in a Chassidic celebration, marking a Hillula [passing of a Rebbe], wearing Chassidic garb, and singing a Chassidic melody. This approach has, may G–d save us, destroyed many, many souls of Chabad chassidim, and caused many young chassidic men to unfortunately—it is bitter for me to say the sad truth—drown in the depths of evil.


It is difficult to speak and utter the truth, but nothing else will help; no matter how difficult it may be, the situation must be described as it is.


There are certain chassidic married men who were raised in a chassidic environment, in frum, chassidic homes, and were taught by chassidic teachers. This has brought their trappings to be chassidic; however, their inner selves are empty.


These men are empty of Torah, fear of Heaven, and fine character traits.


The reason for all this is the lack of obedience. From a very young age he did not accept the yoke of an educator and a guide. He educated himself and guided himself, and this “education” produced a wild fruit such as this, with a pleasant, shiny exterior, and a rotten interior.

Sefer HaSichos 5697, p. 182.

In my own words, with explanation:


Being a Chabad chossid is about inner change.


This inner change consists of learning and understanding Hashem’s greatness as explained at great length in Chassidus Chabad, and bringing that awareness to permeate one’s emotions with love and fear of Hashem, love of one’s fellow Jew, fine character traits, and devotion to the observance of Mitzvos (on the last point, see here).


A part, and a necessary part, of effecting that inner change is engaging in “the ways of Chassidus,” such as singing a chassidishe niggun, attending a farbrengen, wearing the chassidishe garb, and so on. These are all surely vital practices for every chossid (see here). However, the reason that they are effective is that the makif (“encompassing light”) is a preparation for the pnimi (“inner light”) (for explanation of this concept, see here; for another explanation along similar lines, see here).


When one approaches these practices with full awareness that they are a means to an end—facilitating the inner change demanded of a Chabad chossid—then they are able to have their desired effect, and then they in fact enable one to reach heights of spiritual sensitivity and greatness otherwise unattainable.


However, even very holy ideas and practices can be abused and taken out of context, and this may lead to very unfortunate results, may Hashem save us.


For many it is “easier” to engage in these more external practices (although some have the opposite problem, but here is not the place to elaborate) that require relatively less effort.


However, being a chossid is a “package deal.” So when one deliberately ignores some of the demands of Chassidus and dwells upon others that one finds personally more exciting, one is left with nothing. Perhaps this is along the lines of the rabbinic statement: “What does it mean, ‘He who keeps company with harlots forfeits his wealth’? Whoever says, this topic is pleasing and this one isn't pleasing, loses the wealth of Torah.” (Eruvin 64a)


If one would regularly seek chassidishe guidance and direction from a mashpia and an asei lecha rav, this phenomenon would not occur, for they would point out this neglect and demand that it be corrected.


It is my belief that the vast majority of problems in today’s generation of chassidim stem from a lack of awareness of this point.


(For other posts of mine along these lines, see here and here.)

Don't dress like a chossid if you don't want to act like one!

A distinctive dress code identifies one as a member of a particular group throughout the world, and the world of religious Jewry is no exception. 


It is minhag Chabad to wear a kapoteh on Shabbos (as discussed earlier). Since a person is largely defined by his clothes, it has become communally accepted that by choosing to wear this garb, one is in effect declaring that one identifies as a Chabad chossid; conversely, by choosing not to wear such garb, one fails to truly identify himself as a Chabad chossid.


Now I’m not quite sure why this is the case, and moreover I question whether it’s correct to make this the measure of identification. However, what is clear is that it is popularly regarded as such. So someone who takes upon himself to wear a kapoteh, which is generally a distinctive Chabad garb, is viewed by others, rightly or wrongly, as someone who wants to be viewed as a Chabad chossid, and thus for all intents and purposes, is a Chabad chossid. 


Now, since the wearer of this garb knows that this is what others will think, even if he has some other intention in wearing this garb, that is irrelevant; he must consider the way he will be perceived by others. Thus, we find that according to Halacha one is considered to be desecrating Hashem’s name whenever one does something that others will perceive as wrong; even if one has a valid reason for doing so, it is a chillul Hashem, and one’s intentions are irrelevant.


So when someone who wears a kapoteh talks during the minyan, in addition to desecrating the name of Hashem, he is desecrating the name of the Rebbeim of Chabad, and the path in the service of Hashem that they have propounded. However, when he talks during the minyan and does not wear a kapoteh, he is desecrating the name of Hashem in general and his actions are of course wrong and indefensible, but he is not desecrating the name of the Rebbeim of Chabad. In this respect, his actions are less worse.


If you know that you’re going to talk in Shul, don’t come. And if you must come, at least don’t wear a kapoteh. Because if you show no respect for Shul, then your kapoteh and the declaration of affiliation that it signifies is meaningless and worse.


The same goes for those who trim their beards. Now, although many halachic authorities forbid trimming one’s beard, many using very harsh language, it is true that according to some, it is permitted when done in a certain way. However, those who have taken upon themselves to be chassidei Chabad are bound to follow the halachic rulings of the Rebbeim of Chabad, and since the Tzemach Tzedek maintains unequivocally that trimming one’s beard is forbidden min haTorah, one who identifies as a Chabad chossid and trims his beard violates a severe sin.


The same also goes for women who dress immodestly, and those who allow some of their hair to be exposed by wearing a tichel or the like, instead of following the Rebbe’s clear directive to wear a sheitel. And so on.


I am not claiming to be perfect myself, or claiming that all those who don’t fall short in these areas are perfect or anything approaching it. What I’m saying is simple—if you have chosen to openly, consistently, and most significantly, premeditatedly flaunt the minimum standards of observance of Shulchan Aruch expected of a Chabad chossid, then do yourself and everyone else a favor and don’t identify as one. 


Because by doing so, not only are you sinning more than if you had not so identified, you are causing others to sin. When the atmosphere in the community is such that talking in Shul, trimming, dressing immodestly, and so on, is acceptable, then those who are already weak follow the bad example of those individuals, some of those who are stronger are weakened, and in general, the entire community is dragged into the mud.


I’m sure many of you will brand me intolerant. So be it. But, I say to these flagrant violators, what about your intolerance? Your intolerance for the clear rulings of Shulchan Aruch, disrespect for the standards of the community that you so proudly claim to adhere to, and disrespect for the Rebbe and his teachings, to which you declare yourself to be so loyal? What about your selfish, stubborn refusal to consider the spiritual damage you wreak upon your environment? What about your insensitivity to the sincere religious feelings of those who truly want to serve Hashem in the community, and their desire to live and raise their children in a wholesome atmosphere of G-d-fearing Jews and devoted chassidim?


If you must do these things, please, I beg of you, stop identifying yourself as formal members of the Chassidic community. If you must, dub yourself a “friend of Chabad.” Come and learn Chassidus, attend farbrengens and the like, and grow at your own pace. If and when you reach the point in your spiritual growth at which you are ready to follow the required standards of behavior, then your choice to openly and proudly identify yourself as a chossid will elevate both yourself and the community. 


Until then ... leave the kapoteh at home.


(See also this letter of the Frierdiker Rebbe, which expresses a sentiment similar, and perhaps even stronger, than that in the above article.)

Consequences of selectiveness in dispensing spiritual privileges

In the time of the earlier Rebbeim of Chabad, and even during much of the time of the Previous Rebbe, there were certain official limitations concerning who was allowed to come and hear Chassidus. Towards the end of his leadership, the Previous Rebbe declared that this had changed:

Once, not everyone was granted permission to enter [to hear the earlier Rebbeim, and the Previous Rebbe himself, deliver Chassidus or the like], and this was beneficial. Those who were allowed to enter felt an uplifted spirit, while those who were denied entry felt a crushed heart.


Nowadays, however, everyone may be permitted entry. For [if only some will be allowed in and not others] the one who enters will feel an inner elevation in the form of arrogance, while the one who does not enter is in a state of coarseness, in which he is distressed that so-and-so went in, and he didn’t.

Sefer HaMa’amarim Admur HaRayatz 5710, p. 245.

I do not believe that the Previous Rebbe is saying that we are not able to respond as was typical in former times, or that no one still responds in this way. Rather, the Previous Rebbe is saying that the generations have declined such that since such a response is much more common, the potential damage outweighs the benefits of such an approach.


However, this sicha can teach us what two of the goals of our efforts at self-refinement ought to be, and provide indicators of whether we are succeeding at our efforts in self-refinement. We need to ask ourselves:


When we receive an honor or distinction of some sort that others do not receive, does it uplift us positively, inspiring us to even greater heights, or does it lead to arrogance?


When we are denied a privilege that is granted to others, do we feel humbled and resolve to change, or do we allow ourselves to be preoccupied with jealousy of them?

Counteracting the fallout from outreach for the Chabad community

The Rebbe has charged chassidim with a clear mission: Spread Torah in general and Chassidus in particular to every Jew. This is the task of our generation, the Rebbe declared.

Yet in the process, complications and dilemmas arise. To explain, for the purpose of this discussion, let us break the Jewish people down into three general groups: non-frum Jews, frum Jews who are not chassidei Chabad, and chassidei Chabad.

Reaching every Jew means reaching each of these groups and teaching them Torah in general, and Chassidus in particular.

However, it is clear that the approach that will work for one group will not work for the other. Indeed, it is obvious to most that “hardcore” material geared to committed chassidim will most likely be looked at askance by others. Likewise, no elaboration is needed on the theme that material written for a frum crowd will usually not be effective for as-yet assimilated Jews.

However, oddly enough, for many the opposite is not at all intuitively grasped. It is commonly assumed that literature written for assimilated Jews is also appropriate for those already frum, and that literature written for those who are frum but not chassidei Chabad is also appropriate for those who are.

(This is not to say that literature prepared for one audience can never, ever be beneficial in any way for another that is more advanced, for the experience of some shows that this is also sometimes the case; however, it is a fair generalization to say that it is unlikely, and that more often than not the loss incurred outweighs the benefits, if any.)

I wrote an article (see here) focusing on the way this problem has manifested itself in terms of literature. But of course, this phenomenon is not limited to literature. In fact, this fuzziness has infiltrated its way into almost every aspect of modern Lubavitch culture. I will focus here on schools and shuls:

Schools: In many communities, Lubavitcher run schools whose students come from all the three above demographic groups together—children from non-frum, frum, and Lubavitcher homes. This setup is a recipe for constant conflict and dissatisfaction.

Often the dissatisfaction arises from what is viewed as compromise. The school makes allowances to cater to the non-frum, and the parents of the other children are unhappy. Or the school makes allowances to cater to the frum, and the parents of the Lubavitcher children are unhappy.

And of course, sometimes the complaints are leveled the other way around as well—that these schools are too religious or too, um, “chassidish” for the other kids, or at least the other parents, to handle. In many cases, the cacophony of complaints can be heard from all the parents simultaneously, making the job of administrating these schools most unenviable.

For example, some parents want no secular studies, others less, others more. Some parents want only Yiddish spoken in the school, some want a bit but not a lot, still others want none. And so on.

Shuls: Some communities that aim to cater to the non-frum or recent Ba’al Teshuva segment of the population relax standards in various ways, such as by allowing various public events such as fundraising dinners to be mixed, or have separate seating but without a mechitza, and so on.

Now, it appears that if the number of congregants identifying themselves as chassidei Chabad are a small minority, it is reasonable enough to suggest that they move elsewhere or defer to the lower standards of the majority. However, if they are a large minority, never mind the majority, I believe that this approach is not so reasonable. Those who have reached a more advanced point in their avodas Hashem are no less Jews than those who have not. Their spiritual needs are no less valid than those of others, and they should not have to lower their standards, for “maalin bakodesh, velo moridin”—“one should rise in holiness, and not descend” (Shabbos 21b). On the contrary, they deserve to be commended for their accomplishments, and certainly not punished, rachmana litzlan.

In practice, in both schools and shuls that contain such a mixed constituency, there is a sense among many that the spiritual needs of the non-Chabad segment are priority number one, while the spiritual needs of the Lubavitchers are not just priority number two, but are relegated to lowest priority, and are sometimes neglected altogether.

In many cases, this kind of compromise has had unfortunate, perhaps even tragic, consequences, especially for the younger generation.

One such consequence appears to be the degradation and erosion of the pristine values and high standards that should theoretically permeate the Lubavitch community, but undeniably don’t. Another is a lack of expectation for high performance, which in turn leads to a debilitating sense of complacency and an insidious corrosion of idealism. This is all the more absurd, considering that traditionally the derech of Chassidus Chabad demands rigorous personal change more intensely than other Chassidic groups.

To be sure, in many cases the schools and shuls with the lower standards described above were established with the Rebbe’s approval. However, this does not prove that this must remain forever the status quo, for it is evident that the desperate circumstances of those times necessitated such an approach. But times have changed in countless ways. The return to Yiddishkeit has increased dramatically over the post-war decades, the frum community is burgeoning, there is a plethora of schools and shuls, and Chabad communities and institutions are growing and developing worldwide. In many places the reality has changed such that separate institutions that follow higher standards are now feasible, and have been for a while.

On the practical level, the short-term solution to such natural conflicts is to come to a working compromise. In the long term, however, such a situation should not and cannot continue indefinitely. One cannot satisfy everyone, nor is it fair to drag people down to lower standards than those appropriate for them (or, conversely, to require them to adopt standards for which they are not yet ready). This problem can only be resolved by creating multiple institutions and infrastructures, each catering to the needs of a specific group.

Let us promote recognition of this problem, and do our utmost to rectify it as appropriate wherever it is found. May Hashem help us.

The Solution to the Problems of the Generation

The Solution to the Problems of the Generation

Rabbi Y. Oliver

Recent news posts (see here and here) report that Rabbi Manis Friedman initiated an evening of discussion with bochurim with the goal of investigating the reason for the decline in communal standards in certain areas in today’s younger generation of Lubavitcher chassidim. He says:

We all know that Chassidus is the truth and has the answers to all questions and yet, some are not inspired. ... The bochurim. It’s like a bank account that you cannot make a withdrawal from. How can someone learn Chassidus and not be inspired? Where is the missing link? When you teach Chassidus to people who never learned it - they come alive, they ‘get it.’ In Crown Heights, bochurim don’t seem to respond. ... It’s not that the Yeshivos are failing. It’s that they are not enough. I don’t know if Yeshivos were ever enough. ... There is a lot of confusion and questions are not being answered. There is a gap between what we learn and practice in Yeshivos and what we are faced with on Shlichus. We know so much but don’t always know how to put it to practical use.

To sum up, Rabbi Friedman observes that among the younger generation there is a not universal, but significantly widespread lack of connection with the teachings of Chassidus, a lack of implementation of these teachings, and low religious standards in general. Unfortunately I firmly agree with this assessment, and would even consider it (perhaps appropriately, or perhaps inappropriately) understated.

I would also assert that this phenomenon is not limited to the younger generation, but is also prevalent in the older generation, sometimes in a  similar manifestation, and sometimes in a different manifestation. (If anything, it is even more prevalent in the older generation. However, Rabbi Friedman appears to be focusing on the youth because the chances of success are far higher with them than when dealing with the older generation, people who are set in their ways.)


I was not privileged to attend the session, so I do not know exactly what was said. However, I applaud the effort. As for the issue itself, it appears to me that the answer to this question lies in the following statement from the Previous Rebbe:

The essential light of the philosophy of Chassidus has the power to heal all spiritual plagues and sicknesses. However, in order for it to be effective, it is crucial that one imbibe the medicine according to the rules outlined in the works of the philosophy of Chassidus, which is to be found in the words of the Rebbeim [of Chabad].

Igros Kodesh Admur HaRayatz, Vol. 4, p. 30.

In order for a medicine to be effective, one must take all the medicine prescribed, and in the precise dosages and at the appropriate times.


So it’s not enough to learn Chassidus (a pursuit that, by the way, also falls far short of what it ought to be, but that is beyond the scope of this post). Chassidus can only have its true impact on us if we treat it as a “package deal” and strive to fulfill all its directives faithfully. Or, as discussed here, being a chossid involves both the study of Chassidus and the “ways of Chassidus.”


There is much that could be said concerning improving communal adherence to various teachings and directives of the Rebbeim of Chabad, of which there are so many that span all aspects of life. However, here I wish to identify one such directive that to my mind is glaringly and painfully missing, and that in my humble opinion is the root cause of all the other areas of neglect in the various strata of the community.

What I refer to is nothing short of the underpinning of the entire derech of Chassidus Chabad. It has been so woefully neglected for so long that many chassidim no longer realize that anything is amiss in this area, thinking that surely “times have changed,” and such conduct must no longer be expected or even attainable. And then they are left scratching their heads in perplexity when the results of their Yeshivah education, or the education of their offspring, are not as they would have expected.


I am referring to Avodas HaTefillah, the uniquely Chabad discipline of prayer, which in a nutshell consists of the Chabad discipline of hisbonenus—lengthy, detailed, concentrated contemplation of profound concepts in Chassidus—followed by a passionate outpouring of the heart to Hashem in reciting the words of Tefillah.


As much as Chassidus Chabad demands in-depth study of Chassidus, it demands Avodas HaTefillah even more. In fact, the Rebbe Rashab writes unequivocally in Kuntres HaTefillah (p. 12) that the entire reason that all the teachings of Chassidus were revealed is that they be used as material for hisbonenus and lead one to become inspired to love and fear of Hashem in Tefillah:

All of these concepts [of Chassidus Chabad] have been laid out and arranged before you in many printed discourses and in manuscripts, all comprehensively explained. After all this, it now depends upon you to learn these concepts, understand them thoroughly, and reflect upon them in Tefillah, which is the main purpose [of all these teachings]. For all the study and knowledge is merely a preparation for the main thing, which is that one reflect upon [these teachings] in Tefillah, making a point to reflect upon them in detail.

The Rebbe Rashab considered Avodas HaTefillah so crucial for chassidim that he instructed (Kuntres Etz Chayim p. 60) that students in Tomchei Temimim (the Yeshiva in which one trains to be a Chabad chossid) review Kuntres HaTefillah once every two or three months in a consistent fashion.


According to the teachings of Chabad Chassidus, it is only through Avodas HaTefillah that the intellect can penetrate the emotions, implanting in one’s heart true love and fear of Hashem, true love of Torah, and love of one’s fellow Jew, to the point that these feelings permeate every aspect of one’s life. However, if Avodas HaTefillah is lacking, then it is comes as no surprise that many are falling short in feeling the holy feelings that a Jew, and all the more so a chossid, ought to feel. And when one lacks inspiration, one’s actions will surely also fall short, and one is at a high risk of falling even further. Perhaps such a fall is even a fait accompli.

In the words of the Previous Rebbe ( Hayom Yom, 24 Iyar):

The beginning of the descent is the lack of toil in Tefillah. Everything becomes dry and cold. It even becomes difficult to perform Mitzvos mechanically. One hurries. One loses enjoyment in Torah. The atmosphere becomes coarse. And obviously, it is completely not possible to influence others.

In conclusion, I submit that the solution to all the problems (may Hashem spare us) that plague the Chabad community is that we return to the Chabad tradition of toiling at self-refinement through Avodas HaTefillah.

Going to the Rebbe: Embarrassment and preparation

Going to the Rebbe: 

Embarrassment and Preparation

Rabbi Y. Oliver

Reb Chanoch Hendel Kugel was one of the great chassidim of the Rebbe, the Tzemach Tzedek, the Rebbe Maharash, and the Rebbe Rashab. He was one of the first mashpi’im in the Yeshivah of Tomchei Temimim. The Previous Rebbe relates:

Reb Chanoch Hendel once said during one of his farbrengens: “One who suffers from tzora’as (spiritual leprosy) may not enter the Beis HaMikdash until he is healed. Likewise, until a young man is healed of his repulsive character traits, he may not go to Lubavitch. It is forbidden to defile the chamber of Hashem found in the Rebbe’s surroundings.

“For ten years I studied Rabenu Yonah’s Shaarei Teshuvah, Sefer Charedim, Reishis Chochmah, and Pokeach Ivrim. I also studied [the Alter Rebbe’s] Iggeres HaTeshuvah tens of times and certain chapters of [the Mitteler Rebbe’s] Derech Chaim. [My goal was] to scrape away the evil character traits and rid myself of the body’s habits. Only then [once I had accomplished this goal], and with the consent of elderly chassidim, did I travel for the first time to the Rebbe [the Tzemach Tzedek] in Lubavitch.”

Listen, young men, to what an old chossid told concerning how he became a chossid.

This young man toiled for ten years [to refine] his character traits, and during these ten years he did not travel to Lubavitch to my great-grandfather, for he was ashamed to appear before the Rebbe while on his spiritual level.

This is a good preparation for becoming a chossid.

Sefer HaSichos 5697, p. 184.

In this sicha the Previous Rebbe encourages “young men” to listen to the story of a chossid who prepared for ten years before travelling to his Rebbe, and the Previous Rebbe impressed upon them that “This is a good preparation for becoming a chossid.”


Without this preparation, the chossid deserves to feel embarrassed to appear in the Rebbe’s presence. The chossid knows with certainty that his spiritual level is immediately felt by the Rebbe, and if foul character traits remain and sincere Teshuvah is lacking, entering the Rebbe’s holy presence is a kind of desecration, akin to “defiling the chamber of Hashem” (in the words of Reb Chanoch Hendel).


On a similar note, at a farbrengen the Previous Rebbe once turned to the famous chossid, Reb Zalman Moishe HaYitzchaki, and said something to him. Afterwards, the other chassidim asked him what the Rebbe had said. “I didn't hear one word,” he responded. “Only one thought bothered me at that moment: When will the Rebbe already remove his holy eyes from my piggy face?” (Anoshim Chassidim Hoyu, Yosef Yitzchak Kaminetzki, Israel, 2003, p. 24)


My understanding of this story is that Reb Zalman Moishe knew that when the Previous Rebbe looked at him physically, he also looked right through him, into the depths of his soul. Reb Zalman Moishe was a chossid who strove with tremendous effort at avodah, the chassidic discipline of self-refinement, and so he was acutely aware of his spiritual shortcomings. He felt that compared to the Previous Rebbe’s eyes, his own face was “piggy.” So when the Previous Rebbe looked at him, his deep embarrassment so discombobulated him that he couldn’t focus on what the Previous Rebbe had said to him.


Over time, and especially with the relocation of the Chabad movement from Europe to America, this sensitivity has been largely lost, or at least greatly diminished. I once heard it said that the famous mashpia Reb Nissan Neminov once complained: “In our times, when the Rebbe [i.e., the Rebbe Rashab or the Previous Rebbe] would come, we would run away, not wanting to be seen. Nowadays, when the Rebbe comes, everyone runs to be seen!”


This phenomenon also reveals a significant lack in the traditional Chabad emphasis on pnimiyus—the feeling that personal change ought to come through one’s own effort and not through “makifim”—unearned divine revelation from above that pulls one out of one’s problems. The idea that one will go to one’s Rebbe and be lifted out of one’s internal mud with minimal effort was always shunned by Chabad and embraced by other Chassidic approaches.


In light of the above, it would seem that a desire to be seen by the Rebbe without any accompanying sense of embarrassment and reluctance out of an awareness of one’s unworthiness, or any desire for some form of preparation in order to become at least somewhat more worthy of standing in the Rebbe’s presence (even if not fully worthy) indicates that this person is probably suffering from some or all of the following basic problems. First, he lacks firm emunas Tzaddikim—belief that the Rebbe sees unerringly into his heart (see here). Second, he lacks a strong awareness of his character flaws, and the need for avodah in order to rectify them. Finally, he lacks a recognition of the importance of pnimiyus.


It is easy to go the Rebbe and say “hineni”—“here I am!” But without some substantial preparation, it is unlikely that such a visit will make a lasting impact on one’s life. And one will certainly not accomplish an inner change remotely close to that which one can accomplish through preparation.

The sensitivity (albeit not to the extreme described in the Previous Rebbe's talk) should energize one to prepare before going to the Ohel, and in general, to intensify one's preparation for the long-awaited day when we will see the Rebbe again, with the coming of Moshiach.