Chanukah: Hiskashrus cleanses from spiritual defilement

Hiskashrus cleanses from spiritual defilement

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

“They found one flask of pure olive oil sealed with the imprint of the Cohen Gadol (the High Priest).”[1]

The physical defilement of the oil in the Beis HaMikdash was merely an external, physical manifestation of the inner malaise—the popularity that secular wisdom had gained among the Jewish people in general, and particularly among the Misyavnim, or Hellenists—the assimilationist Jews who had adopted Greek philosophy as their lifestyle.

This represents a certain kind of inner spiritual decline from which we can derive a lesson today.

Every Jew has a natural sensitivity to the refined spiritual explanations of G–d’s greatness, particularly as explained in the teachings of Kabbalah and Chassidus. This is found in the intellect of his Nefesh HoElokis, the Divine Soul.

A spiritually healthy Jew limits the intellect of the Nefesh HaSichlis, the Intellectual Soul (see here), and subjugates it to the ends of the Nefesh HoElokis.

However, when one becomes preoccupied with using one’s intellect in a way that lacks submission to the will of Hashem and of the Divine Soul, instead pursuing secular pursuits and studies for their own sake (as explained earlier here), the intellect of the Nefesh HaSichlis has become predominant.

This “defiles” the “pure olive oil”—the natural sensitivity to G–dliness of the intellect of the Divine Soul.[2] In this state, although the Jew is fully intellectually capable of grasping secular studies that discuss physical phenomena, he comes up against a dullness and resistance when he attempts to study spiritual concepts.

How can he possibly emerge from such a degenerate state? This is the lesson of Chanukah. There always remains “one flask of pure olive oil sealed with the imprint of the Cohen Gadol (the High Priest).”

To explain, it is stated of the Cohen Gadol: “His glory and beauty consist of sitting in the Beis HaMikdash all day. ... His house shall be in Yerushalayim, and he should never depart from there.”[3] Yerushalayim represents yirah shaleim,[4] complete fear of Hashem.

Thus, the Cohen Gadol represents the very core of the Jew’s soul, the Pinteleh Yid, the soul-level of Yechidah, a level that “never departs from Yerushalayim”—from complete fear of Hashem. This level is completely united with Hashem and can never be sullied by the person’s actions, although it can definitely be “asleep”—hidden and dormant in one who has fallen.

Now, the Yechidah may “wake up” when the Jew is faced with a test of faith, and inspire him to give up his life rather than deny Hashem. [5] However, that is an extreme circumstance. How does one awaken the Yechidah of oneself or others in the state described above, and bring it to fully illuminate the flame of the Neshamah[6]—which is compared to a flame, as it is written, “The Neshamah of a man is Hashem’s candle”—on all levels?

For this one must connect with the Cohen Gadol of the generation, a Jew who “sits all day in the Beis HaMikdash”—in an atmosphere of holiness and purity; moreover, he “never departs from Yerushalayim”—from a state of pure and complete fear of Hashem.

The Cohen Gadol, the Rebbe,[7] gives to all those who connect themselves with him a “flask of pure olive oil” with which to kindle and illuminate their own Neshamos despite its defilement and desecration.

However, just as on Chanukah, we are required to celebrate through both “Hallel vehoda’ah,” praise and acknowledgement, so is it with hiskashrus, bonding with the Rebbe. Hoda’ah, acknowledgement and faith are indeed necessary, but not sufficient. One must also engage Hallel, praise,[8] which represents investing intellectual effort to understand the greatness of Hashem (see here) as explained in Chassidus (which is compared to oil), thereby fulfilling the exhortation, “Know the G–d of your father”[9] until it illuminates every level of our souls with purity and holiness.

Adapted from the Rebbe’s Igros Kodesh, Vol. 2, pp. 277-278.

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[1] Shabbos 21b.
[2] For oil is compared to wisdom (Zohar 3:7b).
[3] Mishneh Torah, Hilchos K’lei HaMikdash, 5:7.
[4] Likkutei Torah, Rosh HaShanah 60b.
[5] Tanya ch. 19.
[6] Mishlei 20:27.
[7] Cf. Igros Kodesh, Vol. 5, p. 33.
[8] Shabbos ibid..
[9] I Divrei HaYomim 28:9.

• Dedicated by Reb Yitzchak Kruk and family in the memory of Aryeh ben Yitzchak.
• Dedicated by Yehoshua Solomon and family in the memory of Mrs. Molly Mitnick (Malah bas Elchanan).

Dedicated in the merit of a speedy release for the captives Yonasan ben Malka (Jonathan Pollard), Jacob Ostreicher (Yaakov Yehuda ben Shaindel), Alan Gross (Aba Chonah ben Hava Chana), Sholom Mordechai Halevi ben Rivka (Sholom Rubashkin), and Zeva Rochel bas Chaya (Wendy Weiner Runge).

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Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Chanukah: The Anti-Religious Campaign of the Academics

Chanukah: The Anti-Religious Campaign of the Academics

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

The[1] Greeks sought “to bring them [Jewish people] to forget Your Torah.”[2] The wording here is precise.

As is well-known, Greek culture valued intellect as the greatest good, and the Greeks were sophisticated intellectuals par excellence. This meant that they did not oppose Torah study per se; on the contrary, they recognized and were greatly impressed by the beauty, depth, and complexity of Torah, which they considered as on a par with their own wisdoms—as it is written of Torah, “it is your [the Jewish people’s] wisdom in the eyes of the nations.”[3] Hence, they held Torah study in high esteem as a most sublime intellectual pursuit and were willing to allow and even support the Jewish people to study Torah.

Rather, they opposed the Jews’ study of Torah with the belief that it is “Your Torah”—that it is divine. For our Torah is not just another wisdom among many. And it is more than even a highly advanced wisdom, more advanced than all others. Nor is Torah a tool for intellectual gratification and development, G–d forbid—although because it is so inherently great, it does carry that fringe benefit as well, along with many others.

Rather, although Torah study involves the intellect, it is fundamentally different—it is holy intellect.

It was this submission to the suprarational that the Greeks so vehemently opposed, and sought to contaminate. How did they seek to accomplish this? By systematically enticing the Jewish people to become preoccupied and passionately devoted to the study of secular wisdoms and to view amassing secular knowledge as a highly desirable pursuit of inherent value.

This was the root of the Greeks’ harmful influence. For Torah requires that the mundane always serve the holy, as our sages instruct us, “All your deeds should be for the sake of Heaven,”[4] and “In all your ways, know Him.”[5]

However, when one takes something mundane and puts it on the pedestal that should be reserved for the holy, this necessarily leads one to lose the reverence and awe that he had for the holy and treat it as mundane, may G–d save us.[6]

The same is true of Torah vis-à-vis secular wisdom.

It is not sufficient to study Torah with a focus on understanding it correctly, although of course, that is also vital. Rather, one should study Torah with a sense of awe at its holiness. Our sages teach that “Just as [at Sinai] there was awe, fear, trembling, and quaking, so should it be now as well: [One should study Torah] with awe, fear, trembling, and quaking.”[7] Chassidus explains that in fact, the Giving of the Torah is an ongoing event. Hashem is constantly giving us the Torah anew, and this is the reason that in the blessing upon the Torah we refer to Hashem as the “Giver of the Torah,” in present tense.[8] One who studies Torah with this awareness will also be helped by Hashem to reach a correct understanding of his studies.

In contrast, secular wisdom should be viewed as merely a tool. It has no inherent value; rather, its purpose is only fulfilled when it is used in a way that serves a holy purpose, such as for the sake of earning a living, to facilitate better understanding of certain Torah topics, and the like.[9] This knowledge should inform the attitude and feeling that one has while studying this wisdom, if and when it may be appropriate. One should always be conscious that this study is purely a means to an end, a handmaiden to the mistress of Torah and divine service.

Back to the story of Chanukah: The Greeks tragically succeeded in their campaign to influence many Jews to become enamored with secular wisdom, thereby treating it as on a par with Torah wisdom (lehavdil). This naturally corrupted the Jews’ view of Torah study, leading them to slowly but surely lose their sensitivity to the Torah’s inherent holiness, and view it as merely an intellectual pursuit, may G–d save us.

This answers a question one might ask. In normal warfare, the victors will plunder the wealth of their enemy, and take it as booty. Yet when the Greeks broke into the Beis HaMikdash, we find no mention of them taking any action to seize the fabulously precious silver and gold vessels kept there.

Rather, they made a point of contaminating all the oil that they could find. The deeper significance of this is that oil represents wisdom,[10] and the Greeks fought with all their might to contaminate the holy oil of Torah with the impurity of secular wisdom, and thereby influence the Jewish people to treat Torah as if it were no different from other wisdoms, G–d forbid.

The lessons from this for our personal lives are self-evident.

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[1] See Sefer HaMa’amarim 5741, pp. 59-60.
[2] Ve’al HaNissim liturgy.
[3] Devarim 4:6.
[4] Avos 2:12.
[5] Mishlei 3:6.
[6] This is perhaps analogous to our sages’ saying: “He who has compassionate upon the cruel, will ultimately be cruel to the compassionate” (Tanchuma, Metzora 1; Yalkut Shimoni, I Samuel, ch. 121).
[7] Berachos 22a.
[8] Shaloh 25a. Likkutei Torah, Tazria 23a.
[9] Tanya, end ch. 8.
[10] Zohar 3:7b.


This article was dedicated by haTomim Menachem Mendel ben Sarah lizchus a shidduch hogun bekorov.



Dedicated in the merit of a speedy release for the captives Yonasan ben Malka (Jonathan Pollard), Jacob Ostreicher (Yaakov Yehuda ben Shaindel), Alan Gross (Aba Chonah ben Hava Chana), Sholom Mordechai Halevi ben Rivka (Sholom Rubashkin), and Zeva Rochel bas Chaya (Wendy Weiner Runge).


Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Chanukah: A Titanic Conflict of Wisdoms

Chanukah: A Titanic Conflict of Wisdoms

Rabbi Yehoishophot Oliver

Oil represents wisdom,[1] and so the oil of the Holy Temple represents the wisdom of Torah, while the Greeks’ efforts to contaminate this oil represents their efforts to bring secular wisdom to be dominant. Thus, the struggle between the Maccabees and the Greeks was essentially a struggle between two kinds of wisdom, each of which seeks total domination.

Although secular wisdom can be very profound, Torah wisdom is so vastly superior to it that the Zohar comments[2] on the verse, “And I saw that there is an advantage to wisdom over foolishness”[3] that King Solomon was describing the greatness of “wisdom”—Torah, over “foolishness”—secular wisdom.

Thus, secular wisdom is associated with the evil inclination, which is called an “old and foolish king,” while wisdom of Torah is associated with the good inclination, which is called an “unfortunate, wise child.”[4]

To explain, wisdom of holiness engenders bittul—self-effacement and humility, while wisdom of Kelipah engenders yeshus—egotism and arrogance. This also translates itself into one’s interaction with others: yeshus leads to conflict and division, while bittul fosters harmony and unity. The reason for this difference is as follows:

The underlying purpose of wisdom of holiness, Torah, is to explain how the universe was created yesh mei’ayin, something from “nothing”—i.e., from pure G–dliness. Moreover, even after being created, everything in the universe depends absolutely upon this G–dliness for its ongoing existence, and so even now, the true reality of the universe is G–dliness.[5] The awareness of our total dependence upon G–d permeates everything we do with faith in Divine Providence. Likewise, since this wisdom focuses on bittul, studying it imbues one with bittul—with the willingness to nullify oneself, i.e., humility. Thus, Torah wisdom is indeed true wisdom.

In contrast, wisdom of Kelipah, secular wisdom, explains not the ayin, pure transcendent G–dliness, but the yesh, the egotistical world that feels itself to be independent from its source in G–dliness and self-sustaining, G–d forbid. Since this wisdom focuses on yeshus, on the universe as it feels itself independent from G–d, studying it imbues one with yeshus—with arrogance and a sense that one does not truly need G–d (G–d forbid). Ultimately, this leads to heresy—total denial of G–d and rejection of His providence, may G–d save us. Thus, secular wisdom is indeed true foolishness.

This manifests itself in the different impact of these wisdoms on the student’s intellect and emotions. In general, intellect seeks to transcend personal bias and focus on the topic at hand in an objective way, which is the idea of bittul, while emotions focus on subjective, self-centered considerations, which is the idea of yeshus.

Since Torah engenders bittul, it imbues an even greater measure of bittul in the intellect, bringing one to true objectivity, and it even elevates the self-focused emotions to a state of bittul.

Conversely, secular wisdom, which engenders yeshus, brings the emotions to be even more self-focused than they would have been otherwise—i.e., it fosters coarseness and wicked character traits. What’s worse, it even corrupts the otherwise truth-seeking intellect to a state of selfishness and arrogance.

This is the reason that many great gentile sages were notorious for being extremely corrupt and decadent. Their wisdom did not translate itself into more refined behavior; on the contrary, they were more immoral than others of average intellect. The reason is, as explained, that secular wisdom instills and bolsters coarseness and arrogance.

(It should be noted that the above explains the natural impact of each of these wisdoms. However, if one learns Torah without fear of Hashem, G–d forbid, it may become an “elixir of death,” having a very negative effect on the person[6]; conversely, if one is strong in one’s fear of Hashem and studies secular wisdoms in the appropriate way, with the right intentions, they can be beneficial.[7])

Based on Toras Menachem 5714, Vol. 1, p. 300 ff.

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[1] Zohar 3:7b.
[2] ibid. 3:47a.
[3] Koheles 2:13.
[4] Ibid. 4:13. Koheles Rabba, ibid.
[5] Cf. Tanya, Sha’ar HaYichud VehaEmunah, chs. 1-3.
[6] Yoma 72b.
[7] Cf. Tanya, end ch. 8.

This post was dedicated by Reb Kasriel and Zippi Oliver in honor of the birthday of Sara Rochel Tsap (Sara Rochel bas Hindeh Zeldah Bracha) on 11th Cheshvan. Also dedicated by Shmuli Markel and family (Shmuel Leib ben Esther and Sara Rochel bas Chaye Nechomoh). Also dedicated lizchus Rabbi Yossi Soble (Yosef Yitzchok ben Menucha Chaya) and family. May we be immediately reunited with the Rebbe!

Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Modeh Ani: Essence facing Essence

Modeh Ani: Essence facing Essence

Rabbi Y. Oliver

The very first thing that a Jew does in the day is to recite Modeh ani: “I gratefully thank You, living and eternal King, for You have returned my soul within me with compassion—abundant is Your faithfulness!”

Although the word modeh can mean to thank, it can also mean to acknowledge. When a Jew declares Modeh ani, he says: “Hashem, I acknowledge You!”

At first glance, this acknowledgment lacks any depth. After all, the Jew has only just woken up; he’s still shaking the sleep out of his eyes and coming to his wits; he has not yet had the chance to reflect, understand, feel, and internalize anything at all. When a Jew recites Modeh ani, his lack of development and comprehension is akin to that of a newborn child.

This begs the question: Of what value is an acknowledgment when submitted in such a lowly state?

However, Chassidus explains that the opposite is the case: Because it does not involve intellectual comprehension, in a sense, Modeh ani is the highest prayer of all.

There are two levels to the Jew’s soul: its essence, and its manifestations. Corresponding to this, there are two levels of acknowledgment of Hashem: One that stems from the soul’s very essence, and another that stems from its manifestations.

There is a principle in Chassidus that “the manifestations hide the essence.” When you see the superficial aspect of a thing, you lose sight of its very core. For example, when reading words on a page—the “manifestations”—one can come to forget that one is actually staring at ink—the “essence.”

Likewise, as soon as the Jew has reached a certain level of understanding, he can no longer submit to Hashem (at least, not on a conscious level) from the very essence of his soul; his submission must stem from his understanding. He does not submit naturally, because of the essential bond between a Jew and Hashem’s very Essence. Rather, he submits because he understands that he should. He understands Hashem to a certain degree, and yet he also understands that certain things are beyond his comprehension, and so he acknowledges them.

This is the difference between the acknowledgement of Modeh ani and of Hodu laHavayeh, which is the start of Shacharis, the morning prayer.

In Modeh ani, the essence of the soul, “ani,” submits “lefonecho,” “before You”—before Hashem’s very Essence. Because the Jew doesn’t understand anything, his mind and heart do not “get in the way” of the revelation of the soul’s essence. And since the soul’s very essence is manifest, as it were, it connects the Jew with Hashem’s very essence.

In contrast, at the beginning of Shacharis, we recite, “Acknowledge Havayeh, and call out in His name.” “His name” refers to the level of G–dliness that enters nature (which stems from the divine names of Ad-nai and Elokim). So we need to “call,” i.e. summon down into our world this level of G–dliness, so that it can constantly create the world. In contrast, with respect to Havayeh, a level that transcends time and space and is therefore completely beyond us, we must simply acknowledge and accept without understanding.

Yet although one acknowledges, since his acknowledgement actually stems from his understanding—his understanding of the limits of his intellect—it does not permeate his entire being, and thus it only connects him with levels that transcend intellect, but not with Hashem’s very Essence, as when one recites Modeh ani.

Based on the Rebbe's Sefer HaMa’amarim 5714-5716, pp. 337-338. 

This post was dedicated by Reb Yisroel Meir Rafael and family.


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Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Learning Torah with humility

Learning Torah with humility

Rabbi Y. Oliver

At first glance, both Torah wisdom and secular wisdom (lehavdil) are wisdom, and should be treated similarly. However, this is not so. Since the Torah is divine wisdom, one should approach it in a way fundamentally different, and in some ways even opposite, from the way that one approaches secular wisdom.

In the realm of secular wisdom, no concept is sacred. Every concept must be examined critically and rigorously before it can be accepted. To do otherwise is to fail to employ the principles of reason and the laws of logic in the use of one’s mind.

This process is known as critical thinking, and for the secularist, this is the highest virtue, the greatest badge of honor, the key to greatness, and the only possible method of arriving at truth. Since the human mind is the supreme arbiter of truth, if a given concept stands up to intellectual scrutiny, it might be true; if not, not. Conversely, anyone who accepts any idea without having examined it critically is dismissed as a naïve simpleton.

In Torah, however, every teaching (assuming it was taught by a rabbi of sufficient caliber) is a revelation of Hashem's will and is thus inherently sacred. A corollary of this is the Torah’s perfection, for just as Hashem is perfect, so is His wisdom, as it is written, “The Torah of Hashem is perfect.”[1] Hence, the observant Jew accepts the teaching as absolutely true even before understanding it, and will continue to accept it even in the event that he has great difficulty understanding it.

However, this is not to say that questions will not arise, and that all concepts in Torah will be immediately clear and obvious. On the contrary, Hashem designed the Torah such that it can only be truly acquired through intense effort.[2]

When a question arises on an accepted concept in secular wisdom, one (rightly) entertains the notion that the current theory might indeed be faulty. In contrast, when a question arises in one’s studies in Torah, one’s faith in what the Torah teaches is not shaken whatsoever. Rather, one views the conceptual difficulty as simply one of countless opportunities that Hashem grants the serious Torah scholar to toil in Torah in order to discover the answer to the question. Moreover, the Talmud promises that one who toils will surely ultimately find the solution to his question.[3]

In fact, questions are not only possible in Torah study, they are inevitable. As any serious student of Torah knows, any discussion of a topic (known as a sugya) involves delving into some points in great depth, discussing others in moderate depth, and mentioning still others only in passing. Questions will likely arise on the points not as thoroughly discussed, and in order to resolve these questions and reach full understanding of these concepts, one must expend the effort necessary to seek other sources that elucidate them. Of this our Sages say, “The words of Torah are poor in one place, and rich in another.”[4]

In summary, the believing Jew approaches Torah study with intense awe and humility, and attributes any lack of understanding on his part to a shortcoming in his own puny understanding, not in Torah . Accordingly, on the verse, “For it is no empty matter for you” (“ki lo davar reik hu mikem”), our sages interpret: “It is no empty matter—and if it is empty, it is from you” (“ve’im reik, hu mikem”).[5] If the Torah appears to the person “empty,” i.e., lacking in wisdom, chas veshalom, he should know that this emptiness is “from you”—due to his own personal deficiencies.

(What deficiencies might prevent one from understanding Torah? As mentioned, if the Jew toils, Hashem promises that he will find the answer to his questions. So his lack of understanding may stem from not having toiled enough. Or he may have only studied the topic from sources that explain it superficially, and not bothered to track down the sources that explain it in depth, which hold the answers to his questions. He may be lacking in fear of Heaven, which prevents him from being a vessel to Torah and truly understanding it. And so on.)


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[1] Tehillim 19:8.
[2] Megillah 6b.
[3] ibid.
[4] Yerushalmi, Rosh Hashanah 3:5.
[5] Ibid., Shabbat 1:4; Shevi’is, 1:5.



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Like what you read? The articles I write take a lot of time and effort. Please contact me to sponsor an article for (at least) $36 in honor of the birthday, wedding anniversary, or yarhtzeit of a loved one, or for a refuah shleimah or the like. Also, see here concerning the tremendous merit of supporting the dissemination of Chassidus, and the blessings that one receives for doing so.

Being a Chossid: Not Just Obedience, but Acceptance

Being a Chossid:

Not Just Obedience, but Acceptance

Rabbi Y. Oliver

The secular world trains us subliminally that not only is everyone entitled to an opinion, but everyone must have one—and an independent one. It’s a status symbol. But the Torah approach, lehavdil, is quite different.

In fact, even a more humble not-yet-Torah-observant person can recognize logically that when we use our minds, even if we are highly intelligent, our judgment is very weak and imperfect:

1) we may well lack vast amounts of background information, such that although our conclusion may follow logically from the premises, if the premises are incorrect, so is the conclusion;

2) we may well lack truly sharpened reasoning tools, such that even if all our premises are correct and we have considered all relevant information, we may not be drawing the correct conclusion;

3) we may well lack true objectivity; thus, the conclusions that we reach with imperfect methods are themselves highly imperfect.

This applies even when calculating secular matters, and it holds all the more when calculating spiritual matters, in which extreme refinement and attunement to spirituality and holiness is required in order to attain truth.

Accordingly, a G–d-fearing Jew strives to base everything he believes on Torah. If he does not know for certain what the Torah teaches on a particular topic, he may formulate an opinion, but that opinion is inherently tentative. Thus, if he then hears that the Torah teaches otherwise, he will immediately accept that his opinion must be wrong, and give it up. 

It’s not as if the intellectual arguments that brought him to reach the opinion he had held cease to exist. They still need to be resolved, and he hopes to resolve them. But instead of compelling him to a conclusion, these arguments revert to unanswered questions. He says, “I see now that sadly lo kivanti, I wasn’t privileged to grasp the correct understanding of this concept on my own. I hope that with time, with the help of Hashem, by pleading to Hashem with a chapter of Tehillim, I’ll discover exactly all the reasons that my mental calculation was faulty, whether I was lacking—in information, in refined reasoning tools, or in personal refinement and objectivity (or a combination of the above)—leading to a false conclusion. But for the meantime, I am happy to admit my mistake, knowing that now I have the truth.”

This is not just submission of one’s ko’ach ha’maaseh (faculty of action) to Hashem, but a submission of one’s mind to Hashem. This is the deeper meaning of the Mitzvah to don the head Tefillin: shibud ha’moach, submitting one’s intellect to Hashem.

This approach requires humility. It also requires a strong sense of the severe limitations of human intellect when compared with that of Hashem, the Creator and Director of the universe.

It’s true that highly intelligent people will have more difficulty reaching this sort of submission. But it’s quite attainable, really. On the contrary, a truly wise person will be fully aware of his limitations, and any opinion he reaches though his own reasoning (as opposed to a clear statement of the Torah) will be held tentatively, pending further investigation, and pending confirmation through an explicit Torah source. Hence, when he learns that his opinion was mistaken because of the simple fact that the Torah says otherwise, he does not cling to it; rather, he accepts intellectually and emotionally that he erred, and that the Torah, which is “a Torah of truth” (blessing on the Torah), was correct.

And all the above also applies to the way a chossid regards his Rebbe. A non-chossid will accept a Rebbe’s words if they makes sense to him. If not, not. In contrast, a chossid has the bittul (humility) and emunas Tzaddikim (faith in Tzaddikim—see here) to know that the Rebbe’s perception is not only superior to his own, but simply in another league from it. Just as it is silly for a little child to disagree with his parents, so is it ridiculous for a person to disagree with his Rebbe. In fact, it is far more ridiculous, since the distance between them is far greater, for a child will one day become an adult, while a chossid will never become a Rebbe.

So (following on from this earlier post on the topic) we have a further definition of what is a chossid: A chossid does not just obey, he accepts.