It is proper to say ...

The renowned chossid and Mashpia, Reb Mendel Futerfas, of blessed memory, would begin his prayer differently from other chassidim. In the Alter Rebbe’s Siddur at the outset of the Morning Prayers it is written, “It is proper to say before prayer, ‘I hereby take upon myself to fulfill the Mitzvah, ‘Love your fellow [Jew] as yourself.’” Most people read this without giving it a second thought (or even a first one). Reb Mendel, however, felt that his undertaking to fulfill this Mitzvah was not fully sincere, so he found it uncomfortable to recite a phrase that somewhat implied that it was. He got around this by reciting the entire sentence in full. I.e., he would not start with “I hereby ... ” but with “It is proper ... ”

It should be noted that Reb Mendel was known as a very warm, loving, and refined chossid. Obviously, his self-assessment that he lacked love for his fellow Jew did not mean lack of love in the crude sense—that he literally harbored hostile feelings toward fellow Jews. Rather, as is typical of one who strives in Avoida (the unique Chabad discipline of personal self-refinement) he believed that although he had attained this trait to a significant degree (for one must be aware of one’s virtues as well), he still fell short of the ideal, and this bothered him. Er iz noch nisht gekumen tzu dem reinem emes—he hadn’t yet reached the pure truth. His love for his fellow Jew was not fully sincere.

In Chabad terminology this practice would be referred to as an example of a derher. A derher is a refined feeling, or a practice that stems from such a feeling. Being a genuine person—in Chabad terminology, a pnimi—Reb Mendel sought total, uncompromising truth in everything he did, and his approach to his fellow Jews was no exception. It was this intense inner striving that drove him to adopt this practice.

But Reb Mendel didn’t suffice with simply recognizing what he perceived as his shortcoming, and expressing this recognition by uttering this statement slightly differently. Again, being a pnimi, his awareness of his deficiency was real and tangible, and simply could not be shrugged off.

By way of analogy, a health-conscious person who learns that his physical health is lacking will not rest until his illness is cured. In contrast, one who fails to seek a remedy for his illness demonstrates that although he is intellectually aware of his deficiency, he does not truly grasp it. To employ the language of Kabbala and Chassidus, he lacks Da’as, roughly translated as “intellectual sensitivity.”

But Reb Mendel had reached Da’as, and this spurred him to actively work on this trait. In particular, every day before prayer he would review chapter thirty-two of the Alter Rebbe’s holy Tanya, the chapter devoted to expounding upon the Mitzvah to love one’s fellow Jew. (In Hebrew the number thirty-two is lev, heart, which is apparently the reason that the Alter Rebbe chose to discuss this Mitzvah in the chapter of this number.)

What lesson can we draw from this? Should we too read from “It is proper ... ” rather than from “I hereby ... ”? My understanding is that in general it is not desirable to engage in such voluntary external acts of piety unless m’halt derbai, unless one has actually attained that spiritual level internally. In other words, it is coming from within. So if one’s heart pulsates with the same burning inner yearning for truth, then such behavior would be appropriate. But for those yet to experience this yearning, or yet to experience it to this degree—and sadly I suspect that due to the lowliness of our generation such people are the majority—such a practice would be presumptuous.

However, knowing and reminding oneself and others of practices of great chassidim such as this one is uplifting in itself. Their practices set a model for chassidim to emulate, an ideal to aspire toward. They infuse light and warmth into our lives and homes. Indeed, this is one of the topics traditionally discussed at a farbrengen, a Chabad inspirational get-together.

And we can certainly make a point of emulating Reb Mendel by revising chapter thirty-two of Tanya more frequently (even if not daily) and other similar sources, especially Kuntres Ahavas Yisra’el, a special booklet that compiles sources from Chabad teachings on this matter.

May we all merit to serve Hashem with full sincerity.

Iskafya makes us receptive

What do we do if we’re not inspired? We’re really trying to be inspired, or so we think, but ... there’s no progress.

At the beginning of Tanya chapter 29, the Alter Rebbe quotes the statement of the Zohar: If the wood doesn’t catch on fire, we break it (up into smaller pieces). Similarly, if the body doesn’t become lit with the light of the Neshama, we break it. The Alter Rebbe then explains that by reflecting upon a meditation that makes the body feel low, we make it receptive for the light of the Neshama.

This is also the idea of iskafya, self-restraint.

Men darf zich a beig ton. We have to restrain ourselves from indulgence.

But what does this involve? Starving ourselves? Of course not—we must be healthy in order to serve Hashem. Rather, it means regularly holding ourselves back from some material activity for which we have a strong desire. It means that when you have a strong desire for some material pleasure, you davka don’t give in to it. And even if you don’t hold yourself back every time, at least make it a regular part of your behavior.

Iskafya depends upon the individual. For many, perhaps most, it means indulging less. However, it could mean davka eating for someone who doesn’t want to eat. When Rabbi Gershon Mendel Garelik, Rav of Italy, was a young student, the Rebbe told him in Yechidus to make sure to finish everything on his plate. The reason seems to have been that he ate very little and was of ill health. Similarly, each person has to assess individually in which areas he needs to break himself.

In any case, the purpose isn’t to break and deprive the person for its own sake, but to change one’s inner self. Every single time the person breaks himself, he becomes more aidel, refined, and more of a keli, more receptive. More easily able to grasp abstract concepts in Chassidus. More easily concentrate on meditation in Tefillah and the words of Tefillah. More enthusiastically and genuinely do a favor for a fellow Jew. Try it and see.

An excuse is emes lo

One type of person is filled with excuses, and is really convinced that they’re true. He does what he likes, and then explains with a totally straight face why he wasn’t to blame, or that what he did was “not so terrible,” or wasn’t wrong in the first place. This inability to admit wrongdoing, to face up to imperfection, to allow one’s fallibility to become known, stems from arrogance.

However, one who is humble is honest with himself. He doesn’t pretend to be perfect when he knows that he is very far from it. He makes no excuses for his failures. He doesn’t fool himself into thinking that his actions or inactions are justifiable, and he doesn’t try to fool others either. He can admit that he has free choice and full control over his actions, for “nothing stands in the way of willpower”; “if one said I exerted effort but I did not find, do not believe him”; and “I [Hashem] only ask of them [the Jewish people] according to their ability.”

This acknowledgment is the key to change. “Knowing the sickness is half the cure” (cf. Sefer HaSichos 5703 p. 18). The person must fully accept that he did wrong, that his actions or inactions are inexcusable; conversely, he must know that it is always possible to do Teshuvah, repentance. Then he is able and motivated to rectify this situation.

The same goes for being a chossid. The Rebbe has issued many hora’os, instructions, to his Chassidim. We refer to the Rebbe as adoneinu, our master. If one’s identity as a chossid is to be meaningful, the chossid must obey his Rebbe. Thus, those who are serious about their relationship with the Rebbe and their identity as chassidim will make it their business to fulfill the Rebbe’s hora’os despite inconvenience, difficulty, and even personal sacrifice.

However, those who are not serious will wear the levush (the distinctive garments of a chossid) and follow some customs, but neglect the areas that they find difficult and demanding, and cover up their weakness with an elaborate repertoire of sophisticated excuses and defense mechanisms.

One may have the best excuses in the world, but excuses do not make one a chossid. “Inability to perform an act due to circumstances beyond one’s control are not considered like an action” (Yerushalmi Kiddushin, 3:2). One becomes a chossid through action.

The Hebrew word for excuse, amaslo, is short for emes lo—not the truth. If we seek a true relationship with Hashem, we must be humble enough to remove the word excuse from our vocabulary, and then start doing.

Based on Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 1, p. 129 ff.

Why Should We Miss Out?!

Why don’t we have a Rebbe that we can see?! Why can we no longer go up and “see and be seen”? Are we less worthy than the Chassidim of yesteryear, of what is now the previous generation? 

Is it normal for a Chossid to have to go to an Ohel, where he is seen but cannot see, and have “the Rebbe find a way to answer,” instead of going to a Rebbe whom he can see and communicate with directly? To have to be inspired from a Rebbe one has never physically seen, of ink on paper, of audio and video, of fading memories of aging elders?

Lomo nigorah?! Why should we miss out?! Ad mosai!

But what’s even worse than missing out is ... starting to forget that we’re missing out. Starting to tolerate and ultimately accept the situation, and not give it a second thought.

Let us constantly remind ourselves that this is not the way the relationship of a Chossid and Rebbe should be. Let us davven and demand that although we firmly believe that the Rebbe is with us just as before, guiding and blessing us along every step of the way, we are not satisfied with this. We want to see him.

As the Rebbe put it: “Ve’nizkeh zehn zich mit’n Reb’n doh lematoh in a guf, u’lematoh mei’asoroh tefochim, v’hu yigaleinu”—“May we merit to see the Rebbe down here in a body, and in our immediate reality, and he will redeem us.”

What should Chassidim be doing now?

Chassidim are like one family; the Rebbe is the father of all Chassidim, and Chassidim are his children (and this relationship exists all the more with the Shluchim, with whom the Rebbe has an extra close and personal relationship).

Thus, the Rebbe is sitting shivah now, and all Chassidim should be sitting shivah now.* So to all Chassidim, and to the Rebbe, I say:

“Ha’mokom yenacheim eschem besoich shaiar avelei tziyon ve’Yerushalayim.”

---

*Just to clarify for those inclined to interpret things too literally, I mean that in one’s heart, that is how one should feel.

The Mumbai pogrom: Where was G–d?

At the news of the horrific slaughter in Mumbai one spontaneously cries out the question, “Where was G–d; how could He have allowed this?!”

I recall it said of the Holocaust that the above question is not correct. G–d was present in the death camps, for many people were saved in completely miraculous, inexplicable ways. Thus, their survival was clearly the Hand of G–d. This does not answer the question concerning how G–d enabled the Nazi monsters to commit their despicable acts, but it shows that although we cannot explain it, we know that G–d was right there.

The same thing occurred in the Chabad House of Mumbai. The horrific tragedy is unfathomable, yet G–d showed us that he was there. The rescue of the Holtzberg’s child, Moishe’le, was mind-bogglingly miraculous. It is not clear why Moishe’le was not killed.

Some have suggested that he had been asleep and had just woken up when the nanny heard him, but others pointed out that the bruise marks on his back suggest that he had been found and abused by the terrorists. Even if he had been asleep and never seen by the terrorists, they could easily have found and killed him, and if the terrorists had seen him, there is no logical reason that they would have spared him.

The nanny could have been already dead, or she could have escaped from the building and thus not been in a position to save Moishe’le; instead, she was still in the building nearby.

The terrorists could have been in the room where Moishe’le was crying. Miraculously, at that moment none of them were there.

The nanny could have chosen not to risk her life when she heard the child’s cry, and no one would have had any complaints; instead, she rescued him.

The nanny’s heroic rescue was thus a clear sign of G–d’s presence right in the midst of the carnage.

So in addition to everything else that Moishe’le Holtzberg represents, he represents the testimony that even as G–d hides Himself, He is right here.

May we no longer suffer any “hiding of G–d’s Face” in the future, with the coming of Moshiach now.

The sicha for Mrs. LaPine Hy"d

The Rebbe’s sicha after the brutal slaying of Mrs. LaPine, may her blood be avenged, is tragically of timely relevance. Here is the audio of it, for those who understand Yiddish, courtesy of WLCC. Ad mosai!

A kasheh of a child

A kasheh (challenging question) of a child:

I was glued to my laptop, reading articles and watching clips about the tragedy. My two sons, 4 and 2, came over and looked at the screen. I pointed to the picture of the Holtzbergs, and I said to them (in Yiddish, the language I speak with them): “Ir zet di gute Yidden, Chassidim, vos di shlechteh goyim hobn geharget?” “Do you see the good Jews, the Chassidim, whom the evil goyim murdered?” and I broke out in tears. My older son, Shneur Zalman, was confused; my younger son, Moshe, didn’t begin to understand.

My older son asked, “Why are there bad goyim?” “Ich vais nisht”—“I don’t know,” I answered, weeping even more.