Cultivating a Tefillah state of mind

It happens regularly that we walk into Shul, begin reciting the words of Tefillah, and suddenly find our minds bombarded with all kinds of extraneous thoughts, from the mundane, to the banal, to the unworthy, to the outright forbidden. Even when we genuinely try to focus our attention, much of the time our thoughts still wander, and for most of us, we succeed at best partially.


Indeed, the struggle to remove extraneous thoughts from one’s mind and focus on the words of the prayers is immense.


And this stems from the fact that the goal is uncompromising: all thoughts other than meditating on Hashem’s greatness and the meaning of the words one is reading must be rejected. This even means that one should not read the words of Tefillah with one’s lips while reflecting in the back of one’s mind on topics in Torah. This is the reason that before Tefillah one should not study pilpul, intensive Talmudic analysis, but only practical halachic rulings. After studying pilpul, the mind is still excitedly grappling with complex ideas, and so even without consciously intent, one’s thoughts are prone to drift off from Tefillah to one’s studies. In contrast, practical halachic rulings do not engross the person, and so we are not concerned that such study will bring on stray thoughts during Tefillah.


If even thoughts of Torah should be rejected during Tefillah, one should surely reject thoughts of the mundane. This includes dispelling otherwise permitted and constructive thoughts, such as thoughts of one’s livelihood. It is especially difficult to clear one’s mind if one is emotionally distraught from hardship in some area of one’s personal life (may Hashem spare us).


This is also the reason that during Tefillah one should keep looking inside the Siddur at all times, for allowing one’s gaze to wander around Shul can trigger distracting thoughts. Moreover, since “letters illuminate,” gazing at the printed words helps focus one’s concentration.


In the case of Shacharis, we know that various specific preparations are prescribed with the goal of fostering the appropriate mental state (see here). So instead let us discuss Minchah and Maariv, for it is not written (as far as I am aware) that one ought to make a point of preparing for these Tefillos through a session of Torah study and hisbonenus (contemplation of Hashem’s greatness). (The reason for this is that the preparations for Shacharis are said to extend throughout the day, to Minchah and Maariv.) Nevertheless, this does not mean that it is acceptable to rush in from one’s car such that one enters the Shul at the exact moment that the Minyan begins (and that’s in a good scenario).


This is reflected in the Talmudic ruling: “Rav Chisda said: [When entering Shul] one should always enter a measure of two doors-worth and then pray” (Berachos 8a). One explanation of this is that one should wait briefly before starting to read the words of Tefillah.


During this time one should make a conscious effort to mentally cast aside all the aspects of day-to-day life that were preoccupying one until then, in order to enter the calm, lucid state of mind conducive to proper concentration. In Yiddish this process of transition is known as “shtelen zich davvenen.”


So instead of arriving at the 2 pm Minyan for Minchah at 2:00:39 short of breath and zipping through Ashrei in order to make it in time to answer Kaddish, do yourself a favor and come just five minutes earlier. Relax a bit, say Korbanos slowly, glance in a sefer, put a coin in the pushkeh, and remind yourself simply about what you are about to do—the purpose of all the words you are about to read: You are about to be granted the opportunity to stand directly before Hashem and praise Him, plead that He grant your requests for sustenance, and then thank Him for His kindness.


It will make all the difference.

Adapted from Kuntres HaTefillah, p. 23.

The meaning of creation ex nihilo

The concept of creation ex nihilo, known in Chassidic parlance as “yesh mei’ayin,” “something from nothing,” means that Hashem created this world and the system of the higher spiritual worlds, known as “seder hishtalshelus,” from absolute nothingness.

If at the point at which the worlds were created some sort of primordial matter had already existed, and Hashem merely altered its form such that the worlds had come to exist from that matter, then that change of state would have to be categorized as “yesh mi’yesh”—“something from something.” When we say that He created the world “something from nothing,” we mean that the world’s existence began at one point, and was preceded by total non-existence.

However, this requires explanation, for Hashem surely did not create the world by accident, G–d forbid. Thus, He must have created it with conscious intent. This intent is referred to as “alos haratzon,” “The emergence of Hashem’s will.”

Before a person can embark upon a certain course of action, he has to think about doing it. The thought thus precedes the action, contains the entire plan for it, and motivates him to do it physically. This concept is expressed succinctly in reference to Hashem in the liturgical phrase, “The final action was first in thought” (Lecha Dodi hymn).

If so, in that sense the worlds already existed to some significant extent, on some level, before they were actually created. So how can we speak of the creation as having resulted from absolute nothingness?

The answer is simple. Indeed, the spiritual worlds existed in Hashem’s will before they were created. However, on that level they existed in a state of total submission and selflessness. They were not a “something” at all. By definition, creation entails producing a realm that is a “yesh,” i.e., it is fundamentally self-aware and feels itself to be an independent entity from Hashem. This feeling of independence did not exist at all in the worlds as they exist on the level of Hashem’s will to create the worlds, for there everything is nullified to Hashem and feels no independent existence. Thus, the worlds can truly be said to have been created from absolute nothingness.

Sefer HaMa’amarim 5664, p. 4.

Chassidic Customs: A Hiddur in Hiskashrus

In Likkutei Sichos (Vol. 29, p. 211 ff.), the Rebbe explains that the reason that the Rebbeim of Chabad didn’t sleep in the Sukkah is that they felt the makifim deBina, the lofty divine light that shines in the Sukkah. Since it would have distressed them to sleep in such a holy environment, and “One who feels pain [by staying inside the Sukkah] is exempt from [the Mitzvah of] Sukkah” (Shulchan Aruch Orach Chaim 640:5), they were exempt from the Mitzvah of sleeping in the Sukkah.


Now, this is all very well for the Rebbeim themselves. As great and holy Tzaddikim who perceived spiritual realities, their distress at sleeping in the Sukkah was surely a tangible pain that justified their exemption from this otherwise obligatory practice. However, on what basis do their followers, regular people who do not sense sublime spiritual realities, choose to refrain from sleeping in the Sukkah? 


The Rebbe explains:

Chassidim, since they are bound up with the Rebbeim of Chabad, study their teachings (with the goal of implementing them) and follow in their ways—the customs of their Rebbeim.


This is along the lines of what the Gemara relates concerning Rav Acha, who would “beautify [the Mitzvah] with ‘two and one’”—by taking a myrtle branch with only “two leaves on one point and one leaf below, which rose up and covered the other two” (Sukkah 32b). This was consistent with the opinion of Rav Kahane [who had declared that it is permitted to use such a myrtle branch], despite the fact that Rav Kahane himself had only said that “one may even use [a myrtle branch of] ‘two and one’”; however, “three on one stem is certainly acceptable [i.e., the best manner of performing the Mitzvah].” However, “Since it went forth from the mouth of Rav Kahane,” his student regarded it as a hiddur [beatification] of the Mitzvah to make a point of acting according to Rav Kahane’s opinion. [The Rebbe goes on to explain an additional reason for not sleeping in the Sukkah.]

Chassidim feel a very intense natural bond with their Rebbe, and this brings them to naturally strive to emulate their Rebbe’s conduct, even when that conduct may appear, or may even actually be, a lower standard in the strict sense. Emulating their Rebbe or otherwise declaring their adherence to their Rebbe is a hiddur in Hiskashrus, a beautification of the Mitzvah of connecting to one’s Rebbe, that is so significant that it overrides other otherwise valid halachic considerations.


Elsewhere (Toras Menachem 5712, Vol. 5, p. 144 ff.), the Rebbe discusses this concept in connection with the Chabad custom on Pesach to avoid eating gebrochtz (Matzah mixed with water). On the first seven days of Pesach we are very particular not to let even the tiniest drop of water fall on Matzah in order to avoid even the smallest trace of gebrochtz. Yet on Acharon Shel Pesach (the last day of Pesach), not only did the Previous Rebbe not avoid gebrochtz, he would make a point of dipping the Matzah in every single dish.


“This conduct was surprising in my eyes,” the Rebbe says, until his attention was drawn to the above Talmudic statement concerning Rav Acha. Then, the Rebbe relates, he understood it: Since the Previous Rebbe had seen that his father, the Rebbe Rashab, would eat gebrochtz on Acharon Shel Pesach, he would make a point of eating gebrochtz on Acharon Shel Pesach as well—since it went forth from the mouth of his Rebbeim.


The Rebbe then stated that the above episode serves as a response to those who challenge various customs of chassidim, and cite various reasons for their arguments. Some examples are long farbrengens: Why waste so much time on a farbrengen? Why not toast L’Chaim, sing a niggun, finish the farbrengen in a half an hour, and sit down to learn Torah? Also, why do chassidim spend hours preparing for davvenen; why not prepare less, and davven at the proper time?


To this the Rebbe responded:

All the questions should be completely irrelevant, because we know that these are customs of chassidim [adopted because they were] either seen or heard from the Rebbeim.

It may appear to him that it will be better if he acts differently. For example, by davvenen in the proper time he will gain more time to learn Torah, and other such good things. Nevertheless, “Since it went forth from the mouth of Rav Kahane,” since he knows that this is the conduct of the Rebbeim, he should not seek [other] hiddurim. On the contrary, he should practice the hiddur of following their conduct—[as it says of Rav Acha, that] “He would beautify [the Mitzvah] with ‘two and one.’”

It is written, “According to the Torah that they will instruct you ... Do not stray from the thing that they tell you, to the right or to the left” (Devarim 17:11). This verse obligates us to follow the Beis Din of the generation (Mishneh Torah, beg. Laws of Mamrim) “even if they tells you about right that it is left, and about left that it is right” (Ibid. Sifri, Rashi). This applies to such an extent that even a student who has reached the point that he is worthy of ruling a matter of Jewish law, if he ruled that one should disregard the ruling of the Beis Din, he has the halachic status of a “rebellious elder” (Mishneh Torah, ibid. 3:4). 

A similar principle applies in this case. Following Chassidic customs as taught by the Rebbeim is in the category of the obligation to follow “According to the Torah that they will instruct you” and “Do not stray from the thing that they tell you.” Thus, one should not seek [other] ways of beautifying the Mitzvah. Rather, the beautification ought to be—following the instruction of the Rebbeim.

The real Iskafya

In an earlier post we discussed the idea of Iskafya (self-restraint) through actions that do not deprive the physical body. The Rebbe describes this same idea and develops it further in the following letter to one who sought to purify himself of sin through fasting:

As for what you write concerning your conduct to fast on Mondays and Thursdays until midday: This is utterly inappropriate in my eyes, for this is not the way of Chassidus. Instead of afflicting the body, you should afflict the bestial soul.


In other words, you should not diminish your bodily health, as you are doing by refraining from eating or drinking to the extent necessary for your health. Rather, you should substitute this with afflicting the bestial soul: Abstain from indulging your desires in eating and drinking [i.e., eating unnecessarily], from idle chatter, never mind from slight gossip or any other form of forbidden speech. [One can also afflict oneself through positive actions, such us] adhering to the Mitzvah of loving your fellow Jew as yourself even with regard to a person whom it appears to you has not treated you lovingly, or has even harmed you or insulted you, and so on and so forth.


Behaviors such as these are sometimes even more difficult to bring oneself to do than fasting from eating and drinking [and thus bring one to even greater self-purification]. Moreover, they do not weaken one’s health and thus they do not detract from one’s ability to engage in one’s required study portions in Torah and fulfill Mitzvos with extra care.

Igros Kodesh, Vol. 12, p. 379.

Note that here the Rebbe does mention Iskafya in eating in the sense of refraining from delicacies, and only negates Iskafya in eating that involves fasting.

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.

Likkutei 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 (see here). 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, through gentle persuasion, and so on. 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.

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.)

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 have been 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, it is explained in the HaYom Yom of 3 Adar 1 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. Based on this principle, it would seem that we should davven in particular for those whom we know personally.

Seraphim: Passionate Love for Hashem

Seraphim: Passionate Love for Hashem

Rabbi Y. Oliver

There are different types of angels, but the highest is the saraph (pl. seraphim). What are the seraphim?


The word saraph is etymologically related to the Hebrew word sereipha, burning up, for the seraphim are composed primarily of the element of fire. This means that their divine service involves becoming so heated up and passionate in their expression of love for Hashem that they burn up completely and cease to exist.


The reason that only the seraphim behave in this way is that they reside in the world of Beriah. Since in this world the Sefirah of Binah of Atzilus shines openly, all the levels in this world experience very profound Binah—intellectual grasp of Hashem’s greatness. This is also felt by the seraphim, and this causes them to become so excited that they burn up.


What do the seraphim comprehend, and why does it excite them? They grasp two levels, one after the other: The first is the divine light that shines into them in a way that they directly apprehend (“Hasogas HaMehus”). This light descends to their level, bringing them great pleasure, excitement, and joy, and sustains their existence, much as food sustains a person.


However, once the seraphim have enjoyed this divine revelation, they come to recognize that it is in fact severely limited and utterly incomparable to its source in Atzilus, which they comprehend in an indirect, abstract manner (“Yedias HaMetzius”).


The worlds of B’ya (Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah, the three spiritual “worlds” below Atzilus) are created from Malchus of Atzilus, the lowest of the Sefiros of Atzilus. However, the light that shines from there into B’ya undergoes tremendous contractions (“tzimtzumim”) before it descends into B’ya, such that it morphs into a fundamentally different and inferior state.


One analogy for this radical change is from a name. A person only needs a name so that other people can refer to him or call to him. But when a person is alone, a name is useless. On a deeper level, the superficiality of one’s name stems from the fact that it is related to the more external part of his soul, the part vested in a body. The essence of the soul, however, transcends the level of one’s name. This is also the reason that one soul can descend into the world in multiple incarnations, each time vested in a different body with a correspondingly different name.


This analogy is associated with the Sefirah of Malchus because the word Malchus literally means royalty, and the quality of royalty is closely associated with the monarch’s name. The reason for this is that the bond between a king and his subjects depends upon the king’s name. Even if the nation has never seen the king, and they often haven’t, they identify themselves as his subjects, and are even willing to give up their lives for him, all on account of their identifying with his name.


Likewise, the light that emerges from the Sefirah of Malchus of Atzilus is similar to a name in that it is only an external light, which is incomparable to the intensity of the light of Atzilus in its own right.


The seraphim comprehend, albeit on an abstract level, the sublime loftiness of the light of Atzilus, and the abject inferiority of the diminished light that they receive. They grasp it so well that they become so intensely consumed with a desire to attach themselves to the superior light of Atzilus that they become burnt up and cease to exist.


By reflecting upon the seraphim (and all the angels)—particularly during the blessings of Kerias Shema, in which the angels and their worship of Hashem is discussed—we are able to imitate their feelings of love for Hashem, albeit on our incomparably inferior level.

Based on the Rebbe Rashab’s Sefer HaMa’amarim 5670, p. 232 
Cf. Etz Chaim, Sha’ar Penimiyus v’Chitzoniyus 13, and Malbim on Yechezkel 1:1.

Rebbe and Chossid: Imagining the Reunion

The Previous Rebbe once declared at a farbrengen:

Everyone should remind themselves of ten minutes in which he stood before my father [the Rebbe Rashab], and [consider] the way he is now, and that he will have to appear before my father [when Moshiach comes].

Sicha of Purim 5689—kudos to www.pirsumrishon.blogspot.com.

We can surely apply this statement to our current situation, after Gimmel Tammuz. To state the obvious, one of the main problems that we as chassidim face in our time is that we do not see the Rebbe physically. Yes, we are able to visit the Rebbe at his holy Ohel and bask in his physical presence. Yes, we can view pictures and videos, and with an ease and availability completely not possible even a decade ago, and we surely need to appreciate and make the most of this. Likewise, audio of the Rebbe speaking is more available than ever before. And despite it all, at the end of the day, we don’t see the Rebbe himself with our eyes of flesh.

Obviously, part of the interim solution to this problem is to remind ourselves constantly of the truth that the Rebbe taught us again and again when discussing the Previous Rebbe (and especially over the course of the year after the Previous Rebbe’s Histalkus—see, for example, here) that a Rebbe never abandons his chassidim, and so we, too, know (see here) that the Rebbe davvens for us, blesses us, guides us, and leads us even now no less than before. In fact, in a sense he leads us even more than before, albeit in a hidden way.

Yet of course, all this is not enough. When the Rebbe is hidden from the chossid (due to our many sins), the chossid should not be satisfied with relating to the Rebbe in a hidden way, because this is not the way that the relationship of Rebbe and chossid ought to be. Rather, he should be filled with an intense desire to be physically reunited with the Rebbe.

The Rebbe himself has set this example for us, for he famously wished at the conclusion of his very first ma’amar (see here): “May we merit to see the [Previous] Rebbe, down here in a physical body and within our immediate reach, and he will redeem us.” Moreover, a chossid should regard it as his personal responsibility to bring this reunion about, as the Rebbe wrote to Reb Avrohom Parizh: “Reb Avrohom, we have to bring the Rebbe back” (Igros Kodesh, Vol. 4, p. 156).

But imagining, yearning, and praying to see the Rebbe again, as important as they are, are not enough. Chassidim are bound to the Rebbe through an intense love (see here), and part of love is a desire to make one’s beloved happy, and to avoid causing him or her pain. Thus, the desire to be reunited with the Rebbe should also bring us to Teshuvah, to change our behavior such that it conforms with the Rebbe’s instructions totally, for we realize that not only is the Rebbe pained now when we behave inappropriately (for he surely sees the way we are acting even now), but when we will at long last be reunited with the Rebbe (and it is only a matter of time, im yirtzeh Hashem), he will look at us and look through us and be reminded of exactly how we acted when he was hidden. And we will look back at him.

So let’s imagine it, and ask ourselves fearlessly exactly what type of response we will deserve, as painful as that question may be.

We cannot escape the fact that whether the Rebbe’s response will be one of joyful pride or painful disappointment depends upon the way we choose to act now, in the moments before we are reunited. So let’s act wisely and make sure we don’t, as they say, have “egg on our faces” when Moshiach comes.

Pure performance of Mitzvos—through Hiskashrus

Reb Itche Der Masmid once used the following analogy to explain the necessity to maintain a relationship with a Rebbe:

When a sheep goes astray in the forest, it knows that it must make its voice heard so that its shepherd will find it and save it. Yet it also knows that crying out may enable carnivorous animals to identify its location and devour it. The animal is stuck, for if it does not cry out, it will remain lost.


The lesson from this is: Performing a Mitzvah may engender a certain sense of arrogance. However, if one doesn’t perform the Mitzvah, he faces an even more perilous option—neglecting to fulfill Hashem’s will.


The solution to this is “Seek Your servant” (Tehillim 119:176). One should seek a true servant of Hashem—the Rebbe—and turn to him. Then one is assured that he will be saved from the danger of arrogance that is associated with performing a Mitzvah.

Yiras Hashem Otzaro, p. 147.

This can apparently be explained in a straightforward manner. A Rebbe is in a constant state of total bittul (self-abnegation), in which his sense of self is only the sense of the G–dliness within him (see here). Thus, by maintaining Hiskashrus (bonding) with him, one is able to significantly connect with his level of bittul to Hashem, and thereby transcend the arrogance that performing the Mitzvah may otherwise cause.


Another related explanation may perhaps be that the reason that a person is able to feel arrogant in his performance of Mitzvos is that he feels distant from Hashem, and lacks a sense of the reality of Hashem’s presence. However, since the Rebbe “sees” G-dliness (see here), by bonding with him we too are able to sense the reality of Hashem’s presence in a very tangible manner (albeit not to anywhere near the degree that he has attained). This feeling humbles us, and so precludes any trace of arrogance.


(Concerning the ability that the Rebbe grants for one to perform Mitzvos in the most complete manner, see also here.)