Chapter 23

Pesach 5703 (1943) At the First Seder1 [New York]

1. The Haggadah

הֵא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא דִי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא — “This is the bread of poverty that our forefathers ate.”2

When still a boy, the Mitteler Rebbe posed the following query to his father, the Alter Rebbe.

“Eating signifies ingestion: food accomplishes its task only when it is internalized. If it is appropriate and nutritious, it becomes thoroughly digested and transformed into flesh and blood, whereupon it fortifies the bond between body and soul. The same is true of the spiritual nourishment that is called comprehension. When one comprehends a Divine concept so thoroughly that it becomes integrated within him and is experienced at an inward level, it may then be called bread that sates, as in the verse, לְכוּ לַחֲמוּ בְלַחֲמִי — ‘Come, eat of My bread.’3 This refers to the intellectual grasp of Divine concepts that are tangibly demonstrable.

“A pauper is one whose intellectual capabilities4 are insufficiently tuned to apprehend such concepts; being thus limited, any intellectual perception is beyond his reach.5 “If so, the [coupled] terms ‘bread of poverty’ are mutually contradictory: לַחְמָא connotes the conclusively intellectual grasp of a Divine concept, while עַנְיָא connotes the mental insensitivity that precludes this. If we say bread, it cannot be poor; if it is poor, it cannot be called bread.”

The Alter Rebbe replied: “Bread (לֶחֶם) signifies that which attains an elevated state of refinement through war (מִלְחָמָה). For there are two approaches to the refinement [and elevation of the sparks of holiness concealed in the universe]: the first is beirur by means of war,6 and the second is beirur by tranquil means.7 These two approaches further subdivide into four.8 Beirur may take place by means of either belligerency or tranquility on the part of the individual undertaking this task of refinement, or by means of either belligerency or tranquility on the part of the matter which is undergoing this process.

“In general terms, the characteristic avodah of the six weekdays is beirur by belligerent means, both in relation to the individual and to the subject of his endeavors. The avodah characteristic of Shabbos, by contrast, is beirur by tranquil means, both on the part of the individual and on the part of his subject.

“In more particular terms, beirur by belligerent means is the avodah of the heart — the avodah of the intellectual element that is within the emotive spiritual attributes (seichel shebamiddos), with the heart becoming excited in an expansive love and awe of G‑d. This manner of Divine service reflects daas tachton (lit., ‘lower understanding’), which is also termed ‘a poor man.’9 This frame of mind finds expression in the prayers of David HaMelech when he begs for compassion, for he had no years of life by virtue of himself, but only those given to him as a gift by Adam.10 In fact his entire avodah was centered around his supplication for mercy, as in the phrase, ‘To You, G‑d, do I lift up my soul.’11

“By contrast, beirur by tranquil means is the avodah of the brain — thorough comprehension and intellectual excitation. This manner of Divine service reflects daas elyon (lit., ‘higher understanding’), which is also termed ‘a rich man.’12 This frame of mind finds expression in the prayers of Moshe Rabbeinu, as in the phrase, ה׳ מָעוֹן אַתָּה הָיִיתָ לָנוּ — ‘G‑d, You have been our dwelling place.’13 The letters of מָעוֹן (‘dwelling place’) are the same as the letters of נוֹעַם (‘pleasantness’),14 implying that a person at this level of Divine service experiences the pleasantness of G‑d in his brain as well as in his heart.

“[Apropos these two levels of Divine service] it is written, כִּי אֵ־ל דֵּעוֹת ה׳ — ‘For the L-rd is a G‑d of [lit.:] knowledges,’15 on which the Tikkunei Zohar comments, ‘Two levels of knowledge: daas tachton (“lower understanding”) and daas elyon (“higher understanding”).’ For these two levels are to be found in the Divine illumination itself: one level [of Divine light] flows into [a worshiper’s] ‘higher understanding,’ while another level flows into [a worshiper’s] ‘lower understanding.’

“[To revert now to the original query:] It is thus possible to understand [the coexistence of] the two words לַחְמָא עַנְיָא [‘the bread — i.e., the level of understanding — of poverty’], for [the preceding word] הֵא [evidently alluding to the letter ה16] refers to daas tachton.”

2. When haste is a virtue

One of those present asked: “The Exodus from Egypt took place in haste, as in the phrase, ‘For you came out of the land of Egypt in haste.’17 Concerning the future Redemption it is written, ‘For you shall not go out in haste, nor go by flight.’18 This would seem to imply that haste is a demerit, whereas in Chassidus it is explained that haste is a virtue, inasmuch as it refers to the avodah of [the] suppression [of evil]19 (i.e., iskafya).”

The Rebbe replied: “The kind of haste that is a demerit includes a virtue too, namely, taking leave of habitude. This means that the extraction of the sparks [of holiness] from the state into which they fell at the time of the Shattering of the Vessels, and their elevation20 to their source, takes place in two modes: by means of ‘suppression’ (iskafya) or by means of ‘transformation’ (is’hapcha).21 The avodah of beinonim is one of ‘suppression,’ whereas the avodah of tzaddikim is one of ‘transformation,’ inasmuch as they ‘transform darkness into light.’

“The latter approach to Divine service is unblemished by any disadvantage. Its time is when all beirurim have been completed, and concerning this stage in Divine service it is written, ‘For you shall not go out in haste, nor go by flight.’ Fleeing is applicable only in a situation which still harbors evil, as in the verse which relates that [‘the king of Egypt was told] that the people had fled,’22 which alludes to their flight from the evil of the Forty-Nine Gates of Impurity. Flight and haste will be altogether out of place, however, when all beirurim have been completed, when ‘I shall remove the spirit of impurity from the earth’23 — and if the spirit of impurity will be banished, how much more so will impure materiality be banished.

“The process of beirur by means of ‘suppression’ has a disadvantage not only when compared with the avodah of ‘transformation,’ which converts the very darkness itself to light and the very bitterness itself to sweetness; but even when considered at its own level, its weakness lies in the fact that it does no more than suppress. Its achievements therefore necessitate vigilance so that the evil should not reawaken, since it was subdued only by virtue of the predominance of the individual who imposes his will on it. This avodah of ‘suppression’ nevertheless has the virtue of haste. But in the final analysis this is a virtue within the realm of ‘poverty’, which is a far cry from the ‘rich man.’24

“The virtue of haste may be appreciated by an analogy. When fire breaks out one does not pack, but seizes hold of whatever may be saved, a trivial object as readily as a more important one. Likewise, beirurim carried out hastily rescue sparks from lowly levels too. The maamarim entitled Vechol Ha’am Ro’im, 5655 (1895), explain how beirur in the manner of ‘reflected light’ sifts and elevates sparks from the humblest of spiritual levels.”

3.

כָּל דִצְרִיךְ יֵיתֵי וְיִפְסַח — “Whoever is needy, let him come and celebrate Pesach.”

I heard the following interpretation from my father.25

Whoever feels that he is [spiritually] needy, let him come and leap over26 — and he will be pulled across.

Being pulled across is no great virtue. In fact, here lies the distinction between Polish chassidim and Chabad. Polish chassidim rely chiefly on their Rebbeim. A man staggers into the mire unaided, and then relies on his Rebbe to set him up in a proper state. The approach of Chabad, by contrast, demands that a man strive himself, and himself clamber out of the mire. One does, however, need help from one’s Rebbe, both in a general and a particular way. The general kind of help consists of guidelines heard in the past, which now direct one’s endeavors; the individualized help comes later, in the course of his avodah.

4.

- הַשַּׁתָּא הָכָא”This year here, next year in the Land of Israel; this year slaves, next year free men.”

This implies that it is possible to be in the Land of Israel — i.e., to be a person who perceives the sanctity of the Land of Israel — and yet to be a slave.

A man may be called free when the light of the Torah illuminates him from within; when his mindset is this-worldly, he is a slave.

5.

כַּאן הַבֵּן שׁוֹאֵל: מַה נִשְׁתַּנָה — “The child now asks: ‘Why is [this night] different…?’”

Old Siddurim carried various versions of this instruction, such as (a) כַּאן הַבֵּן שׁוֹאֵל מַה and (b) כַּאן הַבֵּן שׁוֹאֵל: מַה נִשְׁתַּנָה. R. Avraham David Lavut printed the latter wording.27

My father once said that on the first night of Pesach one’s מַ״ה is different from that of all other nights. He then gave a lengthy explanation of the union of מַ״ה and בַּ״ן,28 and added: “Whether R. Lavut had that in mind or not, I don’t know — but it’s true anyway.”

6.

וּלְפִי שֶׁהוֹצִיא — “Since he has excluded himself from the community, he has denied that which is fundamental.”

If one isolates a particular mitzvah — whether positive or negative — from the community of mitzvos and observes it alone, one thereby denies (G‑d forbid) the fundamentals of the faith.

Suppose someone is described as a Shabbos-observer. But what about the other commandments? Do tefillin, for example, have a less distinguished lineage?

The obligation to observe the commandments of the Torah is a comprehensive totality. If a person excludes himself from that community, and observes only certain particular items within it, this indicates that he has denied the fundamentals of the faith. There’s at least a little heretic out there.

7.

יָכוֹל מֵרֹאשׁ חוֹדֶשׁ — “One might have thought [that the obligation to narrate the Pesach story begins] from the first of the month. [The Torah therefore specifies, ‘on that day.’ But ‘on that day’ could imply ‘while it is still daytime.’ The Torah therefore adds, ‘It is because of this.’] And ‘because of this’ can only be said [when matzah and maror] are placed before you.”

Now could one not place a Seder plate — with matzos and the various symbols — on the table from the first of the month?

For this reason the Haggadah says “placed before you,” implying [not merely “laid on the table,” but] the way in which the above obligation is “laid down” in the Torah. This attitude is contrary to the ruling of certain so-called rabbis, who displace the appointed time of the Maariv prayers because of suppertime: supper, after all, must be eaten at suppertime, while Maariv can be moved earlier or later to accommodate it. And the same applies to other such matters.

A Jew ought to conduct all his activities according to the Shulchan Aruch, in the way that the Torah lays them down for him: not in the way he would like to act, in the way his reason dictates — or, rather, in the way he says his reason dictates. For in fact, that is not what his reason dictates. As Rambam says, a Jew’s reason and will are uniformly in harmony with the requirements of the Torah. With this principle, in fact, Rambam explains the law that “[the individual who refuses29 to give a divorce] is compelled until he says, ‘I want to.’” In fact every Jew would like to follow the path laid down by the Torah, except that in certain matters people are accustomed to simply repeating what they hear others say — until they find themselves drawn after misguided opinions.

The remedy: to conduct one’s life according to what the Torah has “laid down before you.”

8.

וְגַם אֶת הַגּוֹי אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹדוּ דָּן אָנֹכִי — “But I shall also execute judgment upon the nation whom they shall serve.”30

One of those present asked: “What need is there for this judgment? For even without it the people would leave in prosperity, as it is written, ‘and afterwards they shall come out with great wealth.’”

The Rebbe replied: “The style of this question does not match its subject. For in this verse G‑d is telling Avraham Avinu what will befall Israel [not only in Egypt but] in the course of their subjection to the Four Kingdoms.31 This narration covers five topics: (a) their alien status (b) in a foreign land (c) with hard labor and affliction; (d) the judgment to be executed upon their tormentors, and (e) their exodus with great wealth. There is thus no point to the question of what need there is for the promise that ‘I shall also execute judgment,’ which is one of the five stages that the seed of Avraham Avinu would undergo until the imminent coming of our Righteous Mashiach.

“But there is still a need to explain why the Almighty will judge the nations amongst whom the Children of Israel are exiled — for was it not the Almighty Himself who delivered them into their hands?

“This matter can be understood in the light of the Midrash, which teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, will execute judgment32 upon the nations for having venged themselves upon Israel through cruel subjection — not for the sake of improving or settling their respective countries, but for the sake of persecution through forced labor.33

“This teaching will enable us to better understand our opening quotation, which in its plain sense refers to the nation which shall enslave Israel. However, it may also be interpreted as referring to [the punishment of nations on account of] Israel, who are serving these nations — as was the case when the people of Israel were [subject to] Assyria and Egypt and serving them, confident that these powers would save them. But when G‑d wrought judgment on Assyria and Egypt, then all of Israel knew that salvation could come only from Him, whereupon they repented and were saved.

“The same is true of today’s bitter exile. There are those who place their trust in ‘Assyria’ and ‘Egypt’, believing that through them will sprout the salvation of Israel. Yet the Almighty will execute a mighty judgment upon them, not only for their crimes, but moreover in order that the people of Israel should see that those on whom they leaned are ‘a staff of shattered reed.’34 They will then repent, and G‑d will redeem us speedily through our Righteous Mashiach.”

9. Leaping into the sea

The first time that the Jewish People underwent self-sacrifice was at the splitting of the Red Sea, when they leaped into the sea with mesirus nefesh. While in Egypt they had served G‑d with self-subordination,35 in that “they did not change their names nor their language,”36 nor “their garb”37 — these being the three main characteristics that distinguish different kinds of people from each other. When Jews use Jewish names, such as Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov; when they speak the Jewish language of their exile; and when they conduct themselves as Jews, wearing beard and peyos; — then they are am levadad yishkon, “a people that dwells apart.”38 An individual of this description cannot readily associate with one who has thrown off the yoke of Heaven, and cannot frequent certain places.

The Jews in Egypt preserved their marks of distinction with an extraordinary degree of self-subordination, and without asking “Why?” This is how a Jew should act, and this is how they acted. And through crying out to G‑d out of faith, and through the kabbalas ol that determines that a Jew should be firm in not changing his name, garb, conduct, and the Jewish language of his exile, they were granted their redemption.

10. Levels of faith

[In reply to a question, the Rebbe here distinguishes — using exceedingly technical language — between emunah bivchinas katnus, explaining faith that belongs by definition to a minor intellectual scale, and emunah bivchinas makkif, describing faith which is transcendent, i.e., neither internalized nor given detailed application.]

11. We have a roadmap

R. Shlomo, a well-known chassid better known as R. Shlomo der Lekachmacher,39 once heard from his uncle, R. Gavriel Nosse-Chein,40 one of the earliest teachings that the latter heard from the mouth of the Alter Rebbe, as follows.

The Torah says, “I am the L-rd your G‑d Who took you out [of the Land of Egypt].”41 Surely, comments the Alter Rebbe, it would have been more remarkable to have said, “Who brought you [to Myself and to the Holy Land],” as it is written, “And I bore you on eagles’ wings, and brought you to Me.”42

In explanation, the Alter Rebbe says: People do not go into exile alone, of their own free will. There is an entire scheme of hishtalshelus, a chainlike succession of events through which G‑d, Who engineers circumstances, leads the Jewish People into exile for a purpose. People would like to get out of exile themselves, but do not know how to get out or where to go. For this there is a directive from Above: אֲשֶׁר הוֹצֵאתִיךָ — “[I am the L-rd your G‑d] Who brought you out.”

This teaching of the Alter Rebbe must be understood in terms of avodah.

Every Jew whom Divine Providence leads from one country to another should know that this is happening for a particular purpose — for he needs to accomplish certain tasks in Torah and avodah in the place to which he has been newly brought.

We chassidim, all chassidim, should be especially grateful to the Almighty for the undeserved lovingkindness with which He granted us the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid [of Mezritch]. And in particular, we Chabad chassidim should praise the Almighty for having bestowed upon us the gift of the great luminaries, our Rebbeim (May their merit stand us and all of Israel in good stead!), who show us the path of life.

In earlier times, people did not know where to go and how to go. But over the last roughly two hundred years, from the time of the Baal Shem Tov onwards, there has been someone to show how and where to go.

12. What are these events telling us?

Concerning our era43 it is written, “At that time shall the wise man be silent.”44 This does not mean that one should say nothing. It means that one should say — once — what needs to be said concerning “that time,” not laboriously spelling it out45 day after day. Rather, one should be silent as in the verse, וַיִּדֹּם אַהֲרֹן — “And Aharon fell silent.”46 When the death penalty was decreed for Nadav and Avihu, two saintly personages whose entire aim in life was “coming near to G‑d,”47 at that time “Aharon fell silent.”

For the wise man at this time — in this era on the eve of the Redemption, in this era of the birthpangs of Mashiach, when the Almighty is cleansing the sinful world and sinful men, in this era when harsh edicts (Heaven forfend!) have been decreed on the saintliest individuals within the House of Israel — this is a time to remain silent. One’s head is dulled, one’s heart is bruised, one’s spirit is battered: it is natural to fall silent.

But in spite of all, one must not be foolish. We must look with eyes wide open at what is happening, and see the truthful meaning that all these events signify. We must be obedient, and fulfill what is expected of us, without waiting for later, because that could be (G‑d forbid) too late.

We once explained that chassidim should relate to a subject’s innermost dimension. This means that one should not be satisfied with what one understands at first glance, even when that happens to be a great deal. Everything that G‑d has decreed on this era of the End of Days, on this eve of the Redemption, with all the severity of the birthpangs of the Mashiach, — chassidim ought to understand all this in its innermost dimension, and ponder deeply upon it. For a chassid to be a fool is a shame and a disgrace.

There were once two well-known chassidim who were brothers, R. Moshe and R. Ze’ev Vilenker.48 Though R. Moshe met misnagdim too through his business dealings, he never became involved in polemics with them. His favorite epithet was “kids”; irrespective of whether the individual being described had a white beard or a black, he would be “a kid with a beard.”

His brother R. Ze’ev, who had more contact with the people around him, would tell a misnagdisher businessman: “Very well, so you’re no great scholar; where could you have learned to be otherwise? You’re no great fearer of Heaven? — Could be worse. But why are you still a fool?”

13. The title “Haggadah”

The title Haggadah49 can be interpreted in two ways — one from the root meaning to “draw [down],”50 and the other from the root meaning to “gather together.”51 In one of his maamarim, the Tzemach Tzedek explains the latter interpretation in three ways.52

14.

Some Seder Customs in Lubavitch53

* It was not our custom to stand during the recitation of the passage beginning שְׁפוֹךְ (shfoch).

* The cup of Eliyahu is filled after the Grace after Meals, except for certain occasions when it used to be filled beforehand. (This year the Rebbe himself poured Eliyahu’s cup before the Grace after Meals, on both evenings.)

* After the cup is poured candles are taken in hand, and all the doors up to and including the outer door are opened. The passage beginning שְׁפוֹךְ is then said. Those who were sent to open the doors are waited for, and Hallel is recited on their return.

At the Midday Meal First Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

15. Help yourself

On Pesach one does not offer a guest food and drink, but the guest may help himself.54

16. How to daven, how to sing

The observance of the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus55 is gradually showing signs of neglect, and ought to be set right. One of the areas concerned is the singing of niggunim, which needs to be encouraged.

In days gone by a man would daven, and sing to himself in the course of his prayers. As a matter of course, he would then sing spontaneously after his prayers, too. Today, however, davenen has become “a commandment of men repeated by rote.”56 People do not have the wherewithal to daven with57 because they do not study Chassidus [beforehand]. Instead, they seek to discharge that obligation by repeating a quotable tidbit or a story. Now a chassidisher vertl58 is certainly fine, and a chassidisher story is certainly essential — but on no account can they substitute for studying Chassidus and grasping a G‑dly concept. If one does not study Chassidus, then there is nothing with which to daven, and one lacks the entire inner foundation of the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus. This lack, moreover, also becomes visible externally.

The inner foundation of the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus — and the inner foundation of the perception of the light of Chassidus — is the avodah of davenen. Singing is the external dimension59 of the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus. As is discussed at length in the literature of Chassidus, every manifestation of inwardness60 has its outward aspect, and everything of external value has its inward aspect.

Davenen, when duly enriched by meditation on Chassidus, is a manifestation of inwardness. The outward aspect of this pnimiyus is the ratzo and the shov, the supplication and the awe, that come into being in the course of a chassidisher davenen.

Singing is the external dimension of the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus. The inward aspect of this chitzoniyus is its function of granting a man cordial entry to subtler levels of spiritual sensitivity.61

In days gone by, the sheer involvement of chassidisher householders62 and businessmen in chassidic melodies used to reach a spiritual simmering point.63 No matter what his temperament, every one of them relished a niggun. He was fond of it, and when he sang, it sundered him from coarseness and elevated him out of his languor.

17. The self-sacrifice of a comprehensive soul

It has been stated and it is widely known that the number of days of the Alter Rebbe’s imprisonment64 corresponds to the number of chapters in Tanya,65 one day per chapter.66 From his very first day in prison, the Alter Rebbe’s life was in jeopardy. In fact he was taken there in the black wagon that was traditionally used for traitors and others awaiting execution.

On Yud-Tes Kislev 5592 (1831), my great-grandfather the Tzemach Tzedek said: “Avraham Avinu knew that he was destined to be the father of a son from whose seed the Chosen People would sprout. He also knew how strong Nimrod was — that he was a mighty hunter who could incite rebellion67 against G‑d, and that in collaboration with Satan and his cohorts he could conceivably vanquish him and kill him. Yet despite all that, Avraham undertook the risk of literal self-sacrifice. This was not a question of having trust in G‑d; it was self-sacrifice, in that he regarded his own life as if ownerless, placing himself in actual danger for the sake of disseminating a knowledge of G‑d in the world, without regard for the consequences.

“In the same way, my grandfather [the Alter Rebbe] knew the power of Satan, who acted as Prosecutor in the Heavenly Court against the teachings and the path of our master the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid, for the opposition gained momentum alarmingly from the time that he began to publicly deliver discourses from [what was ultimately to become] Tanya, in the year 5542 (1782). When he repeated this, in 5550 (1790), the effects of this prosecution escalated for three years — until my mother substituted for him and passed away on the third of Tishrei 5553 (1792),68 and he risked his life to compile the Tanya, the Written Law of the teachings of Chabad Chassidus. His very soul remained thus endangered until 5559 (1798), when his body too was under threat, and he underwent deathly suffering for 53 days, corresponding to the 53 chapters of Tanya.

“And by virtue of his Divine service, it was granted him that this holy work (תַּנְיָא), which comprises the same letters as אֵיתָן (‘mighty’), would arouse the might of the soul69 in whoever studied it, and would fortify him in his service of G‑d.”

Considerable light is enwrapped in that talk. A great deal may be learned from it, even though its light is in the primal state in which it is still contained in the luminary. (Those who study Chassidus70 are familiar with the distinction between (a) light that issues from a luminary and illuminates the space of the universe, and (b) light that is still contained within the luminary.) And the main thing that one can learn from this talk is a lesson in self-sacrifice for the sake of tangible Divine service.71

The [Alter] Rebbe’s tangible Divine service entails exerting an influence on chassidim, both on their souls and on their bodies. As far as the activity that affects their souls is concerned, his function is to elicit [Divine] compassion, so that chassidim will become spiritually sensitized in their Torah study and in their prayer. And as far as their bodies are concerned, the Rebbe arouses [Divine] compassion on their physical brains and hearts so that they should serve their respective functions — so that the brain will apprehend a Divine concept, and the heart will awaken in the love and awe of G‑d.

Such is the tangible Divine service of a comprehensive soul,72 and for this avodah the bearer of such a soul undergoes not potential, but actual self-sacrifice.

18. The power of a gaze

A word — even a movement — of the [Alter] Rebbe leaves an imprint in all the worlds. At the very spot where the Rebbe settled in on the eve of Shabbos when he was being taken from Liozna to Petersburg and there said the words, צְוָחִין אַף עַקְתִין, a Jewish village was later founded.73 By spending a Shabbos there, the Rebbe set in motion a process of beirur just as Yosef did in Egypt, so that Yaakov Avinu and his sons would then be able to refine and elevate the sparks of holiness embedded there. This is what the Alter Rebbe did in a general way, enabling the Jews who later lived in the place where he had been to continue the process.

The name of the place is recorded in my notes, but I do not recall whether it was before Nevl or beyond it.

(As always, I cherish any subject at all that is related to chassidim and Chassidus and the conduct of our forebears, the Rebbeim, so that one cannot help briefly mentioning even something encountered in passing.)

Now the Alter Rebbe stood in extreme danger spiritually as well as physically, as was alluded to above. For antagonism experienced in this world reflects the tone of objections raised in the Heavenly Court. Thus on Rosh HaShanah, the “sons of G‑d” present themselves there as prosecutors74 and demand that judgment be passed. This demand is expressed at a variety of levels. For example, it may be directed at one of the possible levels at which an individual may have transgressed. In the case of tzaddikim, it may point out that considering their spiritual plane, they should have related more closely to this world; or it may be directed at those tzaddikim who serve G‑d with self-sacrifice and thereby help their contemporaries and successive generations too in their Divine service. The latter charge was the one that was leveled in the Heavenly Court against the Alter Rebbe, and from this derived the antagonism that he experienced in this world. Yet even at the time of all this opposition, his holy power nevertheless stood by him, enabling him to prevail over the kelipah and to subdue it.

As a man, Czar Alexander I was upright and just. Though his benevolent policy towards the Jews corroded in the course of his reign, he was still better natured than his brother Nicholas, who was cruel and depraved by nature, and fanatical in his faith.

On one of the last days of the Alter Rebbe’s imprisonment in the Peter-Paul Fortress,75 he was being escorted from the interrogators’ chamber to his cell. Nicholas, then a boy, was playing in the courtyard with one of his fellow princelings. True to his nature, he was never without a whip in his hand. Catching sight of the Alter Rebbe he raised it suddenly in order to terrify him. The Alter Rebbe turned his eyes at him sharply, with the result that his hand faltered and lost hold of the whip. He lowered his eyes and his head drooped, and he told his tutor that he been so terrified of the prisoner’s gaze that his heart had grown faint within him.

At the time of the coronation of that same Nicholas, my great-grandfather the Tzemach Tzedek said that his grandfather the Alter Rebbe used to accomplish with a look what his saintly colleagues would accomplish with speech; the effect, moreover, was more intense, reflecting the superiority of sight over speech.

Working through Divine Providence, “the Almighty creates the remedy before the malady.”76 This can be palpably observed in every sphere, public and private. The fact that as a boy Nicholas had to be playing in the courtyard at the very time that the Alter Rebbe was being taken past, and the ensuing episode about the look that made the threatening whip fall to the ground, at the same time dealing a blow to evil at large, — here is an instance of how in the public sphere, “the Almighty creates the remedy before the malady.” Had He not done so, our people would not have been able to survive the severe trials that Nicholas was to decree upon us. With his look, the Alter Rebbe shattered the power of Nicholas’s regnal scepter, just as Yosef, by mentioning the Name of G‑d, weakened a basic element in the kelipah of Pharaoh’s rule.

19. A demand for hard work

The anthology entitled HaYom Yom sets out the passage of Tanya to be studied every day, and today’s reading, part of ch. 41 (p. 11377), begins וְהִנֵה — “Furthermore, even in the case of an individual who even in his mind and thought feels no fear or shame….”

As was explained above, the trial to which the Alter Rebbe was submitted by Heaven (on account of the charges pressed in the Heavenly Court against [the propagation of] the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov), and his sacrifice of soul and body for the sake of the teachings of Chabad Chassidus, both culminated in harsh imprisonment and deathly suffering. Moreover, the days of his imprisonment corresponded in number to the chapters of Tanya. Accordingly, the passages that we are studying from today until we complete the first part of Tanya are the [last] thirteen chapters for which the Alter Rebbe endured the mortal torment of his last thirteen days in the fortress.

(When I say “we are studying,” I refer to all those who are fortunate enough to actively fulfill all the facets of the mission – and this includes the above-mentioned daily study – that is passed on by me to the generation that is undergoing the birthpangs that precede the Coming of Mashiach. And may G‑d grant that we be privileged to witness it in the very near future.)

As is well known, the last twelve or thirteen days of the Alter Rebbe’s incarceration in the Peter-Paul Fortress were the time of bitterest anguish for him. It was during this period that his interrogators persecuted him with endless questions on themes such as: What is a Jew? What is Gimmel-alef-tes?78 What is it that binds the Jewish People to Him, and what is it that binds Him to the Jewish People? So intensely did they torment him, that when he heard their questions, couched as they were in vulgar terms, his heart was torn,79 and tears ran down his face. Yet he was obliged to furnish reasoned answers to them all, in a way that could be grasped by the earthy minds of his chief interrogators.

One of their questions concerned a statement of the Midrash on the verse, “G‑d Who made Moshe and Aharon.”80 On this phrase the Midrash comments, “Moshe and Aharon who ‘made’ G‑d.” One can just imagine in what manner and in what language an earthbound mind can interpret a concept so ethereal and spiritual.

The Alter Rebbe explained them how the Midrash expounds this verse, namely: The holy faculties that G‑d granted Moshe and Aharon, empowering them to prevail over natural phenomena so that with a mere movement of the hand water was transformed to blood, and so too with the other plagues in Egypt, — these were the very faculties they utilized to disseminate a knowledge of G‑dliness, demonstrating palpably that G‑d is the Creator and Guide of the universe and all that it contains.

Chapters 41 to 51 reflect the answer to the focal question: What is Gimmel-alef-tes, what is a Jew, and what is their connection?

In these chapters the Alter Rebbe explains three subjects: (a) the manner of Divine service characteristic of a son;81 (b) Divine service inspired by a love of G‑d;82 and (c) Divine service prompted by the awe (or fear) of G‑d.83 This is no mere explanation. It is also a demand — that the subject of his explanation be translated into actual, practical avodah.

Though the Alter Rebbe does express a demand for the first two kinds of avodah, he does not do so intensely. When it comes to the third kind of avodah, however, the Alter Rebbe is insistent that every individual can and must engage in the kind of Divine service that is generated by awe.

This kind of Divine service can be carried out through self-subordination to the Heavenly yoke. And indeed, the Alter Rebbe demands that one should experience at least the kind of awe that is “like the ox on which one first places a yoke in order to make it useful to the world.”84 And just as a seed sown in the ground sprouts into a yield far greater than itself, so too does self-subordination to the Heavenly yoke produce a generous growth.

At this point the Rebbe appealed eloquently for “ever more yoke and ever more avodah,” and concluded: “And when the Alter Rebbe demands, he certainly demands!”

One of those at the table asked: “What meaning is there to such demands?”

The Rebbe’s answer follows.

Such a demand helps an individual by giving him the strength to make his actual, practical avodah conform with the Alter Rebbe’s expectation. Similarly it is written, “Behold, I have placed before you this day life and good, and death and evil,”85 and the passage concludes, “Choose life!”86 And in Chassidus87 it is explained that the very fact that this final phrase is written helps a man choose life. Here, too, the Alter Rebbe’s demand in itself gives help to those who engage in avodah.

20. The Name of G‑d

My father once said: “When an unlearned Jew says the word Gimmel-alef-tes,88 that is the voice of Atzmus, G‑d’s essential Being. When, however, a Torah scholar says that word, this involves a question of Sheimos, the holy Names of G‑d — and one must be very careful about saying one of those.”

21. Maskilim and ovdim

The greatest maskilim have not been able to make the journey as far as chapter 42 of Tanya, while baalei avodah have managed to get through all 53 chapters.

22. The impact of Tanya

Studying a line of Tanya leaves its mark not only in the spiritual plane, but in one’s material life too.

23. Hearing Atzmus

My father once said that when he is in solitude on the other side of a locked door and studies Likkutei Torah, he apprehends89 Atzmus.

24. Cultivating spiritual sensitivity

Once at yechidus the Rebbe Maharash explained to my father the meaning90 of “An eye that sees and an ear that hears.”91

“An ear that hears” means the ability to hear the Divine utterance, “I am the L-rd your G‑d.”92 For from that moment, at the Giving of the Torah, when G‑d pronounced those words, they remain suspended in the atmosphere of the universe. One therefore needs to cultivate “an ear that hears” — the ability to hear that utterance with the faculties of one’s soul. Likewise, “an eye that sees” is a spiritual eye that palpably sees the word of G‑d.

This teaching provided my father with two months’ avodah.

25. Refining the atmosphere

Those were altogether different times in Lubavitch, and Lubavitch was a different place. True it is that time and place do not (G‑d forbid) alter the Torah and its commandments, which are constant, except insofar as certain mitzvos are peculiar to the Holy Land or to certain times. Nevertheless, time and place do affect avodah in general and ovdim in particular.

The main difference between the time and place of bygone days and the time and place of today lies in the atmosphere of then and now. In those days, the atmosphere on all sides was refined; today, the atmosphere on all sides is generally foul. In those days, even in the big cities and certainly in the smaller townships, most Jews went to daven with a minyan three times a day. All the common folk, craftsmen and businessmen, were members of a group that together read Tehillim or studied the Kitzur Shulchan Aruch or Chayei Adam; they listened to a lesson in Ein Yaakov between Minchah and Maariv, and to Midrash and Pirkei Avos on Shabbos. Likewise, whoever had studied somewhat belonged to a study circle in Mishnayos or the Shas. As a result, the letters of the Torah and the prayers and the Tehillim refined the very atmosphere.

Nowadays, however, many folk are poverty-stricken in the letters of the Torah. Many of our people are steeped in the letters of profitless prattle, and some in the letters of objectionable and forbidden speech, whether falsehood, talemongering or slander. As a result, the atmosphere is generally foul.

As to the members of the group sponsored by Machne Yisrael for the study of Mishnayos by heart, may G‑d grant them success in refining the atmosphere.93

26. Loving fellow Jews of every level

It just has to be said: Whatever nook that you turn to in Tanya, you see the Alter Rebbe’s Divinely-inspired love of his fellow Jew. In today’s passage, for example, the Alter Rebbe discusses the kind of individual “who even in his mind and thought feels no fear or shame, on account of the limited grade of his soul.” Nevertheless the Alter Rebbe, that Divinely-inspired lover of his fellow Jew, perceives a distinctive virtue in that man’s avodah, and concludes that in fact he too is at the level of the awe of Heaven. He adds, moreover, that even this kind of individual can arrive at the level of avodas ben, the manner of Divine service characteristic of a [loving] son.

27. Working on oneself

The subject of one’s avodah ought to be — oneself. Before his bar-mitzvah my father studied Orach Chaim, and diligently refined every organ so that it would fulfill its functions according to the law.94

28. Rejecting ostentation

My father was exceedingly particular about the meticulous practice of his avodah. Any respect in which he enhanced the observance of a mitzvah was not only remote from ostentation: it was so imperceptible that one would need to exert oneself in the extreme in order to detect its existence.

[One such hiddur, by way of illustration:] For several years I observed that on Pesach my father did not pass his fingers over his lips after mayim acharonim, and I wondered at this. I later realized that the explanation lay in the fact that he was particularly careful when it came to shruyah, and there could have been crumbs of matzah shemurah on his lips. (As is known, he would eat matzah shemurah only with “shemurah-milk” or with wine that was known to be undiluted with water.)

Though one cannot (G‑d forbid) compare oneself to him and imitate him — he was, after all, the bearer of a comprehensive soul — one should nevertheless learn from his ways.

At the Second Seder Pesach 5703 (1943)

29.

הֵא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא דִי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא — “This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate.”

In the terminology of Chassidus, “fathers” signifies the intellectual perception of G‑dliness;95 “the bread of affliction” alludes to exile.96 Hence, [following the Hebrew word order,] “the bread of affliction” has eaten the “fathers”: our exile has consumed the intellectual perception of G‑dliness.

The essence of avodah is intellectual endeavor [leading to] discernment,97 and this is most needed in exile. For in the times of the Beis HaMikdash this took place as the result of a Divine initiative. [To paraphrase the words of our Sages,] “Just as [each pilgrim] came [to Jerusalem at the festivals] to be seen, so too did he come in order to see.”98 And as a result of what he saw there99 he was able to discern and distinguish between good and evil. In times of exile, however, intellectual endeavor in one’s Divine service is the only key to discernment, especially discernment with regard to a conception of G‑dliness. It is an instrument for the comprehension100 and spiritual sense-perception101 of G‑dliness.

There are two preludes to the service of the Creator: (a) self-subordination to the yoke of Heaven;102 (b) spiritual sense-perception that results from comprehension.

There are three levels of middos: middos that are intellectually generated; middos of spiritual sense-perception;103 and innate middos. In addition there is the root of the middos, which is one’s intrinsic will.104 Yet all of this is only a prelude. The mainstay of avodah is mental toil — in order to master a G‑dly concept to the point that it becomes intuitively sensed, and that experience in turn gives rise to actual, practical avodah.

One’s intellectual perception of G‑dliness is lacking when it does not lead to spiritual emotions,105 or middos, because the latter are a criterion of one’s intellectual perception. Just as one’s actual performance is a test of one’s middos, so too is excitation — at least in one’s brain — a test of one’s intellectual perception. Along these lines Chassidus explains that lethargy in one’s heart106 is an indication that one’s intellectual perception is unsatisfactory.

Mental toil is a resurrection of the dead. Nothing could be colder than a corpse, and intellectual activity is by nature cold. Accordingly, being deliberate, settled and orderly, intellectual activity shows the characteristics of coldness. And when a G‑dly light floods the brain, that is a veritable resurrection of the dead.

One’s intellect (mochin) and spiritual emotions (middos) differ not only in their own essence but also in the respective ways in which they affect another. In the realm of middos a person of minor stature may well perceive himself as comparable to someone of imposing stature; intellect, by contrast, humbles a lesser personage. It is a matter of palpable observation that when a simple fellow sees a person of intellectual standing he is overwhelmed and humbled, even though he does not understand him at all; in the realm of middos, the lesser man may consider himself to be comparable to the greater.

Let me tell you two stories, and then you will clearly understand the distinction between (on the one hand) intellect and (on the other hand) spiritual emotions, and the way they affect one’s fellow.

1) In Lubavitch there lived a certain individual called Eliezer Baruch’s, better known as Lozhe. Lozhe had fought in the Russo-Turkish War107 at Plevna. When he was asked, “Lozhe, what did you do in the war?” he would reply: “The mighty General Skobeliov108 shouted, and I shouted, and we led the forces!”

Even though he too no doubt realized that there was a certain qualitative difference between himself and Skobeliov, he was still able to give his stock answer in all seriousness — because in the realm of middos, in personal traits, it is conceivable that the lesser regard himself as being comparable to the greater.

2) In the course of the time that our whole family lived in Wurzburg,109 in 5667 (1907), my father visited the late Rabbi Bamberger a couple of times. In addition to his distinguished lineage, this most G‑d-fearing man was distinguished in his own right as a Torah scholar who wrote long and learned responsa to the numerous queries of his rabbinic colleagues. On several occasions my father discussed erudite subjects with him at considerable depth.

HaRav Bamberger once visited my father and found him engaged in writing down the series of maamarim whose delivery he had begun on Rosh HaShanah of 5666 (1905), because from the time the members of the Poalei Tziyon party had organized riots110 at the Czarny Rutchei resort [near Liozna] on the seventh of Av 5666 (1906), until he arrived at Wurzburg, my father had not recorded the maamarim that he had delivered. (I.e., the maamarim that were delivered from Parshas Devarim of 5666 (namely, the thirty-eighth maamar, beginning Eileh hadevarim — “These are the words...”) until Parshas Vayeira of 5667 (viz., the forty-eighth maamar, beginning VeHaShem amar… — “And G‑d said, ‘Do I hide...?’”)

When HaRav Bamberger now found my father at work he asked to be permitted to see what he was writing, for on an earlier visit he had once found my father writing notes for his own use of an involved pilpul on the words of the Rambam on Hilchos Pesulei HaMukdashin. On that occasion, having enjoyed his perusal of it, he had asked my father whether he could copy it. My father had not agreed, but had lent it to him for two weeks. At any rate, HaRav Bamberger assumed that now too my father was recording some learned treatise in nigleh, the revealed planes of the Torah.

But as soon as he caught sight of the maamar that discusses the ways in which souls are superior to angels, he said in great excitement — that is to say, in excitement as great as is consistent with the deliberateness of a German Jew: “So you deal with souls and angels?!” And with that he withdrew, utterly humbled.

Here, then, is an instance of how the intellectual stature of one individual humbles even another intellectual.

To revert to the teaching with which we opened: This bitter exile (Hei lachma anya) consumes intellectual perception (di achalu avoseinu), blocking people’s understanding so that “they [do] not listen to Moshe.”111 People are not sensitive to the Moshe that is in everyone’s possession112 — that is, to the knowledge of G‑dliness that every Jew has — because of the “shortness of breath”113 caused by the enslavement of the violently bitter exile.

And not only does this bitter exile consume the intellectual perception of G‑dliness: in addition it destroys the intellectual discernment that affects one’s actual, practical avodah.

30. That smart little guy

Intellectual discernment affects the actual Divine service not only of those at the more modest levels of avodah and those everyday Jews who simply observe the Torah and its commandments: it affects even the Divine service of a consummate tzaddik.

I will tell you a story. It is true that it is a well-known story that has been told many times over, but with every telling one senses its full depth afresh.

The saintly R. Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl, as everyone knows, was desperately poor all his days. Once a certain chassid brought him a gift of three hundred rubles in banknotes, the equivalent of one hundred silver rubles. The family of the tzaddik and his personal assistant, the mekurav, were all overjoyed. At long last they would be able to shake off the bulky debts that they owed for bread, meat, fish and so on.

Soon after that chassid had left, the tzaddik received a few dozen visitors for private interview, and made a break for Maariv. He then closed himself alone in his study for a time. He finally opened the door, asked to see once more one of the chassidim with whom he had already spoken that evening, and later resumed the series of private consultations, which continued till late into the night.

When the last visitor had left, the above-mentioned chief gabbai, who was responsible for the household expenses, called on the tzaddik in order to receive the money needed to settle the accounts. In fact as soon as he had heard of the three hundred rubles he had prepared a list of all the creditors, and had calculated how much he would now be able to give each of them in part payment.

R. Menachem Nachum thereupon opened the drawer of his table in which he used to keep the maamad money that chassidim had volunteered to give him for the support of his household. (The pidyon money that was intended for distribution to charity was kept in a separate drawer in order to avert the remotest possibility of confusion between the two.) Looking inside the drawer, the mekurav saw a few silver coins and sundry copper coins, but no sign of the bills. He was perplexed. The tzaddik told him to take all the coins that he saw, as well as three gold coins that he found among them. When the mekurav counted them all, they came to the value of almost one hundred banknotes.

He stood still in unquestioning silence. He was not bold enough to inquire after the fate of the three hundred rubles, but nor did he know what to do, for the household debts lay heavily on his heart.

Seeing how his face had dropped, the tzaddik asked: “Why do you look so sad? Has He Who provides bread for all creatures not shown us — in His lovingkindness — undeserved generosity? Look how many of our brethren from many places labored and toiled and brought us this sum!”

Though the mekurav was assuredly worthy of the trust that his discreet position entailed, he could no longer restrain himself. The debts and the privation that hung over the Rebbe’s household caused him anguish, and from the pain in his heart his words sprang forth uncontrived: “But where are the three hundred rubles which that chassid brought? That sum together with this could have helped us pay off some of our debts!”

“It is true,” conceded the tzaddik, “that I was given three hundred rubles. My first reaction was to wonder why I deserved such a large sum, and then I was happy that I had found favor in the eyes of the Almighty and that He had chosen to sustain my family and myself with a generous hand and in a respectable manner. But when I thought into the subject a little more deeply I became distressed, lest He had given me material benefits instead of spiritual riches.

“Now among the chassidim who visited me soon after that gift arrived was one who poured out his troubles to me. For a whole year he had not paid his tuition fees to the local melamed, who was penniless but pious, and continued teaching his little ones in the hope that one day he would somehow pay his dues. The squire of the estate, moreover, had threatened to drive him out of his house because of his eight months’ arrears on the rental of his millstones and his inn. And to make the situation even more acute he now had to arrange a wedding for his eldest daughter.

“So then I thought that perhaps the Almighty had given me the special privilege of being the agent for the disbursement of charity in a way that would earn me such great mitzvos: the support of his children in their study of Torah, the saving of a family from homelessness, and dowering a poor bride. I asked him how much he needed — and the amount was exactly right.

“But then, once I had decided to present him with the entire three hundred rubles, another thought came to mind. Was it right to give it all to one man? An amount such as this could bring relief to at least six families. I was vexed. Both views seemed to be just and equitable, and I could not decide between them. And that was when I closed myself in my room so that I could weigh both arguments.

“After consideration I realized that these two views came from those two diverse judges, the Good Inclination and the Evil Inclination, and that the view which proposed dividing up the amount for several families did not come from the Good Inclination. How did I know that?

“Because if this had been the view of the Good Inclination, then as soon as the money reached me he should have expressed his opinion, as follows: ‘Nachum! Here, you’ve been given three hundred rubles? Take it and divide it up into six parts. Give away five for the needy, and keep one for yourself.’ But he did not say that. Only after the Almighty had made it my privilege to heed the Good Inclination and decide to do what was right, only then did that other smart little guy come along and speak to me craftily.

“I therefore took the advice of the Good Inclination — I called in that chassid and gave him the three hundred rubles.”

31. Pardon me: Who’s speaking?

The Alter Rebbe once said: “When we used to hear a Torah teaching from the Rebbe — the Maggid of Mezritch — we saw this as the Oral Law, and when we heard a story from his mouth, this was our Written Law.”

A story about a tzaddik is Written Law.

Chabad Chassidus explains the distinction between Torah Shebichsav (the Written Law) and Torah Shebe’al peh (the Oral Law): the former is Chochmah and the latter is Binah.114 This means that the philosophical teachings of Chassidus are Binah, and the stories that chassidim tell are Chochmah.

In Sefer Yetzirah (1:4) it is written: lit., “Understand (gain Binah) through wisdom (Chochmah), and become wise115 (gain Chochmah) through understanding (Binah).”

To apply this to our subject: The phrase Havein beChochmah (“Gain Binah through Chochmah”) means that one should approach the Chochmah exemplified in chassidic stories with Binah, seeking to detect the comprehensible teachings that can be learned from them. The phrase Vachacham beBinah (“Gain Chochmah through Binah”) means that one should approach the Binah embodied in chassidic philosophy with Chochmah, seeking the stories and the spiritual lifestyle that harmonize with the particular teaching at hand. (This recalls the harmony that exists between the quintessential point of intellection,116 and the [amplified] understanding117 afforded by Binah.)

In the above story of R. Menachem Nachum of Chernobyl one can see to what extent intellectual discernment affects the practical avodah even of a consummate tzaddik.

In fact, the practical aspects of one’s divine service are more critically affected by discernment than by the comprehension of spiritual concepts or even by emotional involvement. This means that avodah can exist even in the absence of one’s own comprehension and even without the consequent excitation of one’s own spiritual emotions — provided one has this discernment; without it, practical avodah is impossible.

On every occasion and on every subject one has to be able to discern who is speaking — whether it is the divine soul or the intellective soul, the natural soul or even the animal soul, the Good Inclination or the Evil Inclination.

The Evil Inclination is a hypocrite, a flatterer and a liar. Though he may on occasion project a pious and innocent image, in truth “there are seven abominations in his heart,”118 and his goal is to ensnare a man in sin. Together with Satan, his partner, he invests prodigious effort and deploys a variety of stratagems toward this end. And for this reason one has to cultivate a discerning mind — in order to know who is speaking.

The study of Mussar can also grant one discernment, albeit to a lesser degree. In the main it is acquired by studying the teachings of Chassidus. Even if they are G‑d-fearing scholars, people who lack intellectual discernment are prone to err, validating that which is invalid, and pronouncing the impure — pure; invalidating that which is kosher and necessary, and rejecting that which is pure.119

32.

הַשַּׁתָּא הָכָא... — “This year here, next year in the Land of Israel; this year slaves, next year free men.”

The following exposition takes a different approach to yesterday’s.120

This year we are here, so as a matter of course this year we are slaves. For here, in the lands of the Diaspora, one can be nothing more than a slave, both materially and spiritually. Materially, people are enslaved; spiritually, we are obliged to engage in the servile labor121 of beirurim, the labor of sifting and refining the Divine elements in the universe, which is mainly done through self-subordination to the yoke of Heaven.

Next year, however, being privileged to be in the Land of Israel through the coming of our righteous Mashiach, we shall be free men. Being a free man signifies the avodah performed by a noble or by a son, the function of both being the revelation of light.

The quotation thus means: This year we are here, so as a matter of course we are slaves; next year we will be in the Land of Israel, so as a matter of course we will be free men.

33. The Holy Land

Here we are in exile among the gentile nations, whereas in Eretz Yisrael people are in exile among Jews — and it is far more trying to be in exile at the hands of evil brethren than at the hands of evil gentiles. A gentile exile has its advantages. Gentiles may hold a Jew’s body in exile, but they do not tamper with his soul; an evil fellow Jew exiles the Jew’s soul and seeks to defile it.

A certain number of such people who have congregated in Eretz Yisrael seek to defile the souls of the Jewish People, the sanctity of the Holy Land, and the Holy Tongue. Indeed, so powerful has the impure kelipah become, that these people seek to derive spiritual sustenance from the forces of holiness by means of the names — in the Holy Tongue — that they give their unholy institutions, in which they train Jewish children to betray their Judaism. Their aim is to extinguish (G‑d forbid) the spark of Judaism in Jewish children.

They speak profane and forbidden words in the Holy Tongue with which G‑d created the world122 and gave the Torah.123 One consolation is that they have added so many new words that the language they speak is no longer the Holy Tongue. Indeed, it would be still better if they would add even more words, until there would be no more words of the Holy Tongue in their language — for then the kelipah would no longer be able to derive its spiritual sustenance from the forces of holiness.

People who are here may well be pleased that they are not there, in that exile-like Land of Israel, whose pious inhabitants are in bondage at the hands of “The renegades of your people.”124 Common sense dictates that one should be happy that one is not under their exile. It is certain that before Mashiach comes the Land will need to be purified of those who act in ways that G‑d hates. That will be a painful process. One can see that in order to purify the atmosphere of the Diaspora there has to be...,125 so it is obvious that [a painful process will be needed for]126 the purification of the unwholesome atmosphere that certain members of our people have created in Eretz Yisrael. Since, however, G‑d is omnipotent, He is able to smite Egypt and heal127 Israel — simultaneously.

34. Malnutrition of the soul

In the wake of yesterday’s exposition128 of one of the phrases in the paragraph of the Haggadah that begins with the words הֵא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא, the following interpretation is called for:

כָּל דִכְפִין יֵיתֵי וְיֵכוֹל (lit., “Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat”). This refers to someone who is in need of an or pnimi, an indwelling spiritual illumination.

כָּל דִצְרִיךְ יֵיתֵי וְיִפְסַח (lit., “Whoever is needy, let him come and celebrate Pesach”). This refers to someone who is in need of an or makkif, a transcendent spiritual illumination.

35. “[We were slaves] to Pharaoh in Egypt.”

The terms “Pharaoh” and “Egypt” also have [in addition to their usual, negative connotations] significance in the realm of holiness. The name “Pharaoh” is connected with the phrase, דְבֵיהּ אִתְפְּרִיעוּ כָּל נְהוֹרִין עִילָאִין — “In him all the supernal lights are revealed.”129 “Egypt” signifies not only straitened spiritual circumstances130 and finitude, but also the attribute of Gevurah in the realm of holiness, which intensifies the downward flow of Divine life-force.131

36.

וְהָיוּ מְסַפְּרִים בִּיְצִיאַת מִצְרַיִם כָּל אוֹתוֹ הַלַּיְלָה — “They discussed the Exodus from Egypt all through that night.”

There have been chassidim whose stature was sublime and whose grammar was weak. And so it is that the following insight of an unnamed chassid has been handed down to us by the renowned R. Abba of Tchashnik.

Surely, reasoned this chassid one Seder night, the above text should have read אוֹתָה הַלַּיְלָה instead of אוֹתוֹ הַלַּיְלָה. [The pronoun would thus agree in gender with the noun הַלַּיְלָה, which was mistakenly assumed to be feminine.] Why, he wondered, does “night” here assume a masculine form? And he answered his own query with the following explanation: In the eyes of R. Akiva and his colleagues the dark night of exile was a mashpia, a fertile source of Divine beneficence [and hence its spiritual gender is masculine]. Yet even in that gloom, those Sages were able to discern the sweetness of the revelation of Mashiach.

Hearing this my father remarked: “The query is not grammatically valid, because לַיְלָה is masculine. The explanation, however — that in the bitterness of exile one can [already] sense the pleasantness of the Redemption — is deeply delicious.”132

37.

“...Until their disciples came and said: ‘Our masters, the time has come for reading the morning Shema!’”

“Our masters” alludes to the World of Atzilus; “Their disciples” alludes to the World of Beriah;133 “The time has come for reading the morning Shema” refers to Yichuda Ila’ah. The quotation thus implies that in the World of Beriah, too, the light of the higher level of perception of Divine Unity had been elicited.134

38.

“R. Elazar ben Azaryah said: ‘I am like a man of seventy, yet I did not merit [to understand the obligation] to recall the Exodus from Egypt at night until Ben Zoma interpreted it.’”

Though he was a mighty scholar, R. Elazar ben Azaryah was not ashamed to say, “I did not merit….”

Now the verb here translated “merit” is related to the root of the word meaning “refinement”.135 R. Elazar ben Azaryah knew what was his level in avodah; he knew in which areas of his spiritual life he had attained merit — read: refinement — and in which areas he had not. And this should be the case with every servant of G‑d: at all times he should know just how far his avodah has advanced. He dare not delude himself, neither with regard to saying “I have attained merit or refinement” nor with regard to saying “I have not attained it.” In a true servant of G‑d both these assessments ought to be based on solid knowledge.

R. Elazar ben Azaryah was of course deeply distressed at the fact that a Torah personality of his standing could have a certain lack of self-refinement. He therefore clarified in his own mind the inner meaning of why he had not been privileged to perceive the significance of the obligation to recall the Exodus from Egypt at night — along these lines, no doubt.

Egypt represents middos; the Exodus from Egypt refers to the refinement of one’s middos; the means to achieve this is necessarily through intellectual endeavor in one’s Divine service. The refinement of one’s middos is consummated when each individual spiritual emotion comprises all ten [faculties of the soul]. When the seven middos attain this order of perfection, they are seventy in number. (At this stage, because of [their derivation from] Binah, they are referred to as יַיִּן (“wine”), whose numerical value is seventy.)

This enables us to understand why R. Elazar ben Azaryah said, “I am like a man of seventy,”136 when his age would surely appear to be quite irrelevant to the obligation to recall the Exodus from Egypt at night. With these words he was telling us that he had not attained the ultimate perfection of middos that seventy years would signify: he was only like a man of seventy — and that was why he had not been privileged to understand the obligation to recall the Exodus from Egypt at night.

Ben Zoma, by contrast, was able to attain this insight because he enjoyed the advantage of accustomed solitude.

39.

“‘The days of your life’ refers to the days; ‘all the days of your life’ includes the nights as well.”

In this teaching of Ben Zoma, the verb לְהָבִיא (here translated “includes”; more literally, “brings”) is to be understood as belonging to the first phrase, too. It would thus read, יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ: לְהָבִיא הַיָּמִים. This would teach us to bring life — spiritual zest137 — into our days, so as to make them Jewish days.

The second phrase echoes this lesson: one ought to bring this kind of life into one’s nights as well, so that they will become Jewish nights.

“The Sages say: ‘The days of your life refers to This World.’”

Here the Sages are building on the above teaching of Ben Zoma. Not only should one bring spiritual zest into one’s days and nights, thereby making them Jewish days and nights, but moreover one needs to infuse this same vitality into all aspects of Olam HaZeh, into this material world of here and now, so that it too will be Jewish.

The Olam HaZeh of a Jew is utterly different to the Olam HaZeh of a non-Jew, as was tangibly demonstrated by the Rebbe Maharash in a well-known episode.

My uncle R. Zalman Aharon and my father,138 who were little children at the time, were once playing in the garden, where my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, was seated at his books. Noticing that they were engaged in earnest debate, he called them over and asked them what they were discussing. Since they were bashful, their sister Devorah Leah told him that they had been talking about what R. Shalom the Melamed had told them — that in Likkutei Torah139 it is written that there is a difference between the nature of the middos of a Jew and (lehavdil) of a gentile. My father, then four years old, neither understood nor believed that there was such a difference, nor was he convinced by his elder brother’s explanation.

My grandfather then called for his attendant, Ben-Tziyon, and asked him: “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes,” answered the meshares, “I have eaten.”

“Did you eat well?”

“Well? Satisfied, thank G‑d.”

“And for what reason did you eat?”

“In order to live.”

“And for what reason do you live?”

“So that I can be a proper Jew and do what G‑d wants me to do” — and the meshares sighed.

“Please send me Ivan,” my grandfather concluded.

When the outdoor odd-jobman appeared, my grandfather asked him: “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Did you eat well?”

“Yes.”

“And for what reason do you eat?”

“So I can live.”

“And for what reason do you need to live?”

“So I can have a swig of whiskey with a snack.”

When Ivan had gone, my grandfather turned to his children: “You see, then, that a Jew by nature eats in order to live, and needs to live in order to be able to be a proper Jew and do what G‑d commands him to do. Not only that, but he lets out a sigh, too — because he feels that perhaps he is not yet serving G‑d as truthfully as he could. As to this goy, he lives for the sake of his whiskey and his snack. Not only that, but he smirks, too — because he’s picturing the pleasure he gets out of eating and drinking, and it is for the sake of that pleasure that he lives.”

The Olam HaZeh of a non-Jew means living for the sake of eating and the rest of his bodily affairs; the Olam HaZeh of a Jew means gaining the necessary strength, in order to serve G‑d through studying the Torah and observing the mitzvos.

This, then, is what is meant by yemei chayecha — “the days of your life.” It means infusing spiritual liveliness into all the aspects of the material world of here and now.

40.

“The phrase ‘All the days of your life’ includes (lit., ‘is to bring’) the Messianic Era.”

This may be interpreted140 in two ways.

1) One should consider what every component of This World will be like when Mashiach comes.

2) Throughout these days of exile in the “six thousand years141 of the world’s duration,” one should constantly intend that one’s present avodah should bring the days of Mashiach. For it is possible to be in exile yet without realizing that its true purpose is the Redemption. In fact, one can mistake the exile itself for an ultimate purpose. People in this situation are content with being in exile; their only desire is, “Let us too be like all the nations;”142 getting out of exile does not interest them.

This not wanting to get out of exile reflects the attitudes of two kinds of people.

1) There are those who do not hold this to be an exile. They regard the countries in which they live as their own, in the same way as their other inhabitants regard them as their own. They do not believe in a Redemption: they deny G‑d and His Torah and the destined Redemption promised by the Prophets.

2) Others know that all these lands are lands of exile, and they believe in the Prophets’ promises of the Redemption. They may indeed be bashful about telling the truth to their children, but they themselves believe that G‑d will send our Righteous Mashiach to bring the People of Israel a complete liberation.

There are people who firmly believe in the Coming of Mashiach — but their hearts are sore on account of their hard-earned material possessions. When Mashiach comes and leads the Jewish People to the Land of Israel, what will they do with their houses? How will they part with their sons and daughters, who will certainly not desert their businesses and the gentile friends with whom they wine and dine? And so it is that even among those who do believe in the Coming of Mashiach, there are many who would very much like him not to come within their lifetime. Who needs the headache of saying goodbye to one’s house and taking leave of one’s children?

In the face of such attitudes the Sages teach: “All the days of your life should be directed to bringing about the days of Mashiach.” A Jew should keep in mind the ultimate purpose of the exile, and pray that he be granted the privilege of witnessing the Coming of Mashiach in his lifetime.

41.

Echad chacham… — “One is wise, one is wicked, one is simple, and one does not know how to ask.”

Each of the Four Sons has within him an echad (“one”), a spark of the One G‑d. The wise son has an echad, and so too does the wicked son.

A query from one of the listeners: “What is the meaning of the echad in the wicked son?”

The Rebbe replied:

The wicked son is given his echad from Above, for everyone has a Divine soul, but he is wicked out of his own free choice. It could well be that he is given even more spiritual energy than another, because masbi’in oso implies שֹוֹבַע (“satiety”)143 — but he does not utilize that potential.144

[The Rebbe added:] The wise son here refers to a maskil145 — and such a man needs to be protected vigilantly from his neighbor, the wicked son.

42.

הַר שֵׂעִיר לָרֶשֶׁת אוֹתוֹ — “[To Eisav I gave] Mount Seir to inherit.”146

[From the perspective of derush, by perceiving הַר שֵׂעִיר as the subject of the verb instead of its object,] this phrase implies that Mount Seir inherits Eisav.

Contrary to the popular misconception, one must distinguish between two characteristics of the World of Tohu — “intense lights” (אוֹרוֹת תְּקִיפִים) and “the intensity of the lights” (תְּקִיפוּת הָאוֹרוֹת). Eisav exemplified the latter concept; hence his [seemingly over-pious] query as to how one ought to tithe hay and salt.147 Yitzchak likewise misjudged him, for from the spiritual perspective of “the intensity of the lights” it is conceivable148 that even hay should be tithed. [The transcendent, primordial kind of illumination149 — the oros makkifim of the World of Tohu — connoted by] Mount Seir in fact belongs to the Jewish People.150 This is implied by the above-quoted phrase, הַר שֵׂעִיר לָרֶשֶׁת אוֹתוֹ, in the sense that Mount Seir inherits the “intensity of lights” which had been Eisav’s, and which then comes to be the possession of Yaakov and his sons — through the beirurim effected by the self-sacrificing study of the Torah and fulfillment of the commandments during the exile.151

43.

וְגַם אֶת הַגּוֹי אֲשֶׁר יַעֲבֹדוּ דָּן אָנֹכִי — “But I shall also execute judgment upon the nation whom they shall serve.”

There is a stern teaching from my father on this verse.

In this teaching [on the level of derush], יַעֲבֹדוּ [lit., “whom they shall serve”] is understood as if it were a transitive verb meaning “to enslave”; דָּן [lit., “execute judgment”] is understood to mean that “[the Jewish People] are judged”; and אָנֹכִי [lit., “I”] is understood to refer to the Jewish People’s attachment to G‑d. The above-quoted passage then implies the following: The reason that the nations of the world subjugate the Jewish People is that the Jewish People are being judged with regard to the measure of their attachment to G‑d.

44. A lesson in education

In honor of the approaching festival of Pesach in the year 5650152 (1890), a new coat and new boots were made for me.

In Lubavitch on erev Pesach, there would first be a thorough search in the courtyard, in the chicken coop and in the stable, in the course of bedikas chametz. This took R. Mendel the Meshares a few hours at night, and then he would check everything again by day. After the chametz had been burned we used to immerse in the mikveh, put on our festive clothes, bake matzas mitzvah, and then proceed with the other preparations for Yom-Tov. One of these tasks was removing the seals (especially those marked with letters) from the wine bottles, and while loosening the stoppers, we used to take care not to let the corkscrew touch the wine. I used to do this in my father’s study, and on this occasion I was careful not to soil my clothes, but most especially — not to spoil the shine on my new boots.

Reading my thoughts, my father said: “In the maamar entitled Avadim Hayinu in the Siddur,153 the Alter Rebbe gives the parable of a courtier sitting at a table laden with all manner of delicacies, while under it his dog chews bones. Now is it imaginable that the courtier should leave his table and chair, and crawl under the table to chew bones?!”

My father’s words worked; I grew ashamed to gaze upon my new clothes.

That is education.

45. Spiritual self-refinement

My father was once told at yechidus by his father, the Rebbe Maharash: “A person who is an atzmi can convey this [capacity for utter dedication to the service of G‑d], and a person who is an atzmi can be a recipient [for it].”

46.

דצ״ך, עד״ש, באח״ב — “R. Yehudah referred to [the plagues] by [the above three] acronyms….”

[In the next three paragraphs in the Haggadah,] R. Yosei HaGlili, R. Eliezer and R. Akiva each add something to the teachings of their colleagues. What did R. Yehudah add?

The numerical equivalent of the letters constituting the above three acronyms equals the gematria of אשר.154

The Jewish People use this word in the blessings when they say אֲשֶׁר קִדְשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו — “...Who has sanctified us with His commandments.” This implies delight, as in the word אִשְׁרוּנִי.155

Pharaoh, by contrast, used this word when he asked, מִי ה׳ אֲשֶׁר אֶשְׁמַע — “Who is G‑d that I should heed [His voice]?”156 Plagues totaling 501157 (the numerical equivalent of אשר) were needed to make him realize the reason for them and the Divine intent in bringing them upon him.

47. Completed?!

The following remark was made after the Haggadah had been read and after the fourth cup of wine had been drunk.

The Alter Rebbe did not conclude the text of the Haggadah in his Siddur with the phrase חֲסַל סִדּוּר פֶּסַח — “The Pesach Seder has been completed,” for in the thinking of Chabad, Pesach never ends: its ongoing effects are felt at all times. It is true that all the festivals continue to diffuse their light every day, but the influence of Pesach radiates constantly.

48. Making every day luminous

When we count Sefiras HaOmer158 we say HaYom Yom… — “Today is the […th] day [of the Omer].” [Taken alone, the two words Hayom yom mean, “Today is a day.”] This reminds one that each day ought to be a meaningful day. A man ought to know what he has accomplished each day — what he accomplished yesterday and what he needs to do today.

During the Alter Rebbe’s wartime flight from Napoleon, he traveled by soft, unpaved side roads. When my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, made the journey with his family to Lubavitch, he took the paved highway, where signposts marked off their progress in viorsts.

“Fine,” remarked my great-grandfather. “Now we know what distance we have already covered from our starting point, and how much further we still have to go in order to arrive at our desired destination.”

This is what one is reminded by the words Hayom yom — “Today is a day.” A man needs to know what he has already done and what is still waiting to be done, in the spirit of [the words of Moshe Rabbeinu at the burning bush], “I shall turn aside159 from here to come nearer there.”160 More than at any other period, one should surely appreciate the value of time now, when we are waiting from day to day, from hour to hour, and from minute to minute, for the fulfillment of the verse which promises that “as in the days of your going out of Egypt shall I show them wonders.”161

In Egypt there were miracles; whoever wanted to see them saw them, and whoever did not want to see them did not see them. Now, however, [in the imminent Redemption,] “I shall show them wonders.” Whether one wants to or not, everyone will see them. And when the Jewish People fulfills the teaching indicated by the words Hayom yom, ensuring that every day is lived as a full day’s worth, the Almighty will surely see to it that Hayom yom — that the days ahead should be as luminous as daylight, both materially and spiritually.

At the Midday Meal Second Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

49. Reviving the values of yesteryear

We have remarked162 that a certain neglect is observable in the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus, which chassidim ought to rectify and set in order in a spirit of integrity: this is how things must be, they cannot be otherwise. And when, with G‑d’s help, people tackle this task with typically chassidic determination in order to restore the edifice of Chabad Chassidus, they will no doubt succeed.

This neglect, which due to this bitter exile and these harsh wanderings has befallen the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidism and Chabad Chassidus, comprises both elements that are fundamental — i.e., elements that everyone knows and understands to be fundamental — and elements whose presence or absence might at first glance appear to be equally inconsequential, and certainly not crucial. That, at any rate, is what some people mistakenly think.

There is a verse that says, “Do not measure the way of life; her paths wander, and you do not know.”163 The Sages comment: “Do not sit and weigh the commandments of the Torah.”164 And Chassidus understands this to refer not only to the commandments of the Torah, but likewise to the teachings and the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus.

Chassidus is light and vitality. Light, by its very nature, penetrates to every little corner and, being what it is, it is constantly continuous with the luminary from which it issued. Vitality, by definition, is that which animates great and small, coarse and refined, though always retaining its own identity.

Chassidus, as we have said, is light and vitality. The light of Chassidus finds its way into every tiny corner, and the vitality of Chassidus animates everything and everyone — so that those things which at the first glance of mortal reason might even appear to be immaterial are illuminated and animated; this makes them recognizable as being far from dispensable or even secondary, but in fact crucial.

Chassidim of bygone years were of different levels — there was the chassidisher rav, shochet and melamed, the scholarly householder165 and the householder who engaged in business,166 and the craftsman. Each of these categories of chassidim would study Chassidus at fixed times; people would meditate at length in the course of their prayers — some more than others, but everyone would recite his prayers with due deliberation; and on Shabbos and festive occasions people would get together, sing soulful and meaningful melodies, talk about how a chassid should live his life, exchange narratives that reflected the conduct of the Rebbeim of the various generations and the conduct of elder chassidim, and share recollections of guidance offered at yechidus.

The crown of the chassidic life of each township was the mashpia. He was the person whom one would consult on matters involving one’s divine service; he was the person whom one would ask for advice as to how to rid oneself of undesirable behavior and how to habituate oneself to nobler traits; he was the person whom one would ask which way to turn if one longed to have one’s prayers issue forth spontaneously, or if one wanted to know how to prepare oneself spiritually for the Shema that one reads before retiring for the night; and it was the mashpia who told a chassid how to go about readying himself for entering the Rebbe’s study for yechidus.

The above list no doubt includes elements that mortal and this-worldly intellect will deem to be of no consequence; for example, chassidic stories and chassidic melodies. The light and vitality of Chassidus, however, demonstrate clearly that relating a narrative concerning a Rebbe or a chassid, or singing a chassidic melody, are things of basic value.

One has to learn how to tell a chassidic story — without embellishing it with one’s own explanations and expositions, but rather setting it out straightforwardly.167 One likewise has to learn how to sing a chassidic melody — as it is, without cantorial frills. For, with G‑d’s help, these stories and these melodies have nurtured generation after generation of chassidim, toilers in the divine service of self-refinement.168

50. The role of a mashpia

Chassidim regard mashpi’im as basic to darchei haChassidus (“the spiritual lifestyle of Chassidus”), a term which may be distinguished from darchei hachassidim (“the spiritual lifestyle of chassidim”). The latter term refers to the way in which the flow of chassidic inspiration is absorbed; the former term refers to the way in which it is sown. When a man sows, we know that successful germination depends on how well the seed strikes root, and this depends in turn on the sower. If he is an expert in agriculture, the main task of which is to prepare the soil to host the seed, and to arouse the [soil’s] vegetative property, the seed will sprout successfully. And when a man plants, his success is even more dependent on his preparation of the soil.

The avodah of chassidim is planting — and in this labor, even more than in sowing, spiritual germination depends chiefly on the extent to which roots are struck, which depends in turn on the preparation of the soil. This preparation will succeed only when the sower — the mashpia — is expert, and not lazy. For not only will the yield of a lazy worker be lean, but moreover his fruit will be unwholesome.

There is no need to spell out what is meant by spoiled fruit and what harm it can bring. Not only does such fruit fail to fortify a man’s spiritual faculties and physical organs, as it would have done had it been of a different quality, but in addition it causes pain, and in fact weakens the bond between the spiritual faculties and the physical organs.

Yet however severe this pain and this weakening may be when caused by spoiled fruit of the physical variety, they are incomparably less severe than the extensive harm and the weakening of the spiritual faculties that are caused by spoiled fruit of the spiritual variety. This becomes apparent when one sees how a spoiled fruit of chassidic stock can bring about not only his own debilitation, but a desecration of the sanctity of Chassidus as well.

Failure to germinate and the appearance of spoiled fruit can be explained by a number of contributing factors, but what truthfully matters is the attitude of the sower. Not only must he invest considerable exertion of the spirit and of the flesh in order to make the soil receptive to new rootlets, and then dig, weed, and irrigate, all in their due order; but in addition the sower — the mashpia — must be utterly dedicated to his saplings, caring for each one individually. If there is a consideration that will not directly affect germination, but to some extent will ultimately improve his fruit, he will spare no effort in utilizing it, because the quality of his fruit matters to him above all else.

Such a man is the genuine, Rebbe-like mentor, the chassidisher mashpia.

51. Learn from an old villager

One of the commandments fulfilled by those who observe the Torah is the mitzvah that “You shall respect the elderly.”169 There are those who fulfill it with loving punctiliousness,170 and it is indeed a delight to behold this noble expression of deeply-rooted, Jewish character traits. The Talmud interprets זָקֵן171 as זֶה שֶׁקָנָה חָכְמָה — “One who has acquired wisdom.” Yet Jews respect not only such an elder, but also a man who is simply elderly. Jews respect a gray beard, and revere a white beard. (For the moment, a gray beard is still a rarity in America; one should hope that soon, with G‑d’s help, this manifestation of Israel’s glory will come into its own.)

True to its holy and typical style,172 Chassidus, which is light and vitality, has introduced light and life into this subject too. Accordingly, the collective discipline of chassidim has given birth to the label ziknei hachassidim — “elder chassidim,” regardless of the particular standing of any individual chassid, be he a prominent Torah scholar, an ordinary Torah scholar, or quite a simple chassid. All of these are referred to as “elder chassidim,” and revered accordingly.

There is an old saying that has been passed down to us by the elder chassidim of the early generations: “An old villager173 is worth more than a young prodigy.”

Chassidus does not admire talents and sensibilities that are granted as a gift, but those that are earned by one’s own toil. Chassidus regards the entire weight of avodah as resting upon the exertion of the flesh, and accentuates174 the exertion of the spirit.

The Baal Shem Tov taught the world that every Jew has the potential to accomplish great things in realizing the Divine intent that underlies creation. The Alter Rebbe and the Rebbeim who followed him showed how every individual can realize his potential in order to fulfill that intent.

Elder chassidim are the very sap of the chassidic way of life. Their influence is felt in the unquestioning discipline that a chassid ought to have, in his devotion to a farbrengen of chassidim, and in his relish of a chassidic story or melody. It is the elder chassidim who transmit an appreciation of the majesty and splendor175 that they were privileged to behold in the Divine Presence that rested on the holy countenances of the Rebbeim of their generation; it is those same elder chassidim who reflect the resplendence and radiance176 that animated the hoary chassidim of earlier days among whom they themselves were guided long ago in their own spiritual maturation.

Elder chassidim, to be sure, serve a vital function in the education and guidance of a chassidic community. But foremost in this function are the mashpi’im, whom the Rebbeim of their respective generations have endowed with the resources to serve the younger members of the chassidic fraternity as mentors, teachers and guides.

52. R. Hillel of Paritch

R. Hillel was not only a born prodigy who harnessed his genius to toil in the study of the Torah. (By the age of thirteen he was completely at home in the entire Babylonian Talmud,177 and by fifteen he had mastered all the writings of the AriZal. Indeed, the Tzemach Tzedek said of his familiarity with the Kabbalah, [borrowing the metaphor with which the Talmud extols R. Yosef’s mastery of its own primary sources,] “Everyone needs the man who owns wheat.”178 In those days179 it was not so remarkable for a young man to be thoroughly at home in the revealed levels of the Torah180 by fifteen or sixteen. But to have mastered the Kabbalah as well was an amazing attainment, even in that luminous era.)

In addition to his superlative erudition in both the revealed and mystical planes181 of the Torah, R. Hillel had taught and trained himself: he had drilled his body to act in harmony with the Torah — and for him its revealed and mystical aspects were of equal weight.

For example: As is known, the Kabbalah prescribes that on Friday afternoon one should sleep a little between Minchah and Kabbalas Shabbos, the twilight prayer that welcomes the Sabbath. R. Hillel did not have to exert any effort in order to fall asleep. That happened as soon as he lay down, because he had cultivated and refined his body to such an extent that his soul functioned only according to the Torah, including its mystical dimension.

In the year 5578 (1818) the Mitteler Rebbe told R. Hillel that he should make the journey to the agricultural settlements,182 adding: “You shall gather in gashmiyus and sow ruchniyus.” From that time on, R. Hillel regarded that directive as defining his mission in life. Throughout his years he collected funds for the ransom of captives. With part of the money he provided kosher food for Jewish soldiers in Bobruisk,183 and with part he provided for the needs of individuals who had been imprisoned because of various libels.

It was the Mitteler Rebbe who made R. Hillel a mashpia,184 and the Tzemach Tzedek fortified him in this role.

R. Hillel tackled his task as mashpia with self-sacrifice — by sparing no effort to cultivate each additional recipient of the light of Chassidus. He cherished every disciple of even the most modest attainments. In this he followed in the footsteps of Avraham Avinu, who is described by the Sages as being generous185 in body and soul. For Avraham Avinu, a man of wondrous intellect, dedicated his life utterly to explaining the concept of the Unity of G‑d to a Levantine nomad, even to a clod.

Moreover, R. Hillel took pains to determine by what means he could best guide each of his disciples towards developing a sensitivity to the light of Chassidus, so that it would be able to enhance his endeavors in the service of G‑d.

It was his custom to have three niggunim sung three times each at his table every Shabbos, and on Yom-Tov to have five niggunim sung three times each.

He used to find a path to the heart of each of the young men under his tutelage by addressing a particular story and a particular teaching specifically to him. (To R. Dov Ze’ev Kozevnikov, for example, he explained at length the harnessing of the power of speech as an element in avodah.) All those at the table would then sing a niggun. With the first time it was sung, the teaching would cleave to the listener; with the second time, it would be warmly fused in his heart.186

53. Egotism

Mashpi’im, then, have to have self-sacrifice for the sake of the young men whose mentors they are. It will never suffice to merely speak as a mashpia, and simply tell someone that he should act in a certain way. One needs to toil at refining oneself — and thereby influence another. The Rashbatz187 used to say: “If one seeks to show another what a mensch is, one has to be higher than what a mensch is. Being a mensch signifies habitude; being higher than a mensch means being master of one’s habits.”

My teacher the Rashbatz once heard from [his mentor] R. Michel of Opotchk that at his first yechidus the Alter Rebbe had said: “Shackle your mental habits in hobbles.” (In those days prisoners were kept in safe custody indeed by having their feet enclosed in wooden weights.)

A mashpia must be aware of his global responsibility — weighing himself, thinking and scrutinizing at length — for his every move affects the very soul of his disciple.

It is a rule with chassidim at large that nothing in one’s divine service should attract undue notice.188 When one goes to the mikveh,189 for example, no one needs to know about it. And this directive comprises both a positive and a negative commandment. The negative command is that one should remain free of unduly perceptible conduct; the positive command is that one’s divine service should reflect one’s inner integrity.190

A query: “The foregoing discussion spoke of the obligation to think. How is ostentation applicable in this?”

The Rebbe replied as follows:

In a public talk in the year 5662 (1902), my father once said: “An oved walks on his feet; a maskil walks on his head. When a maskil walks he is audible and visible; an oved walks by unnoticed.”

By thinking one’s way into the core of the matter, one can understand why this is so. Among other things, haskalah includes wild aftergrowths — unsown weeds, or fruit that grows without the supervision of an expert farmer. Precisely such are logical arguments of untested validity — original, but not true. Thinking of this kind gives a man a foolish conceit, so that he starts walking about on his head. An oved, by contrast, not only brings about desired changes within himself, but the very fact that he is engaged in avodah endows him with a certain degree of upright conduct, at least to the extent that he will be free of pride.

Let us examine the difference between a maskil and an oved a little more deeply. The oved proceeds from the axiom that his present spiritual condition is unsatisfactory, and that he really must improve things. This axiom in itself creates a hatred and a disgust for arrogance and to a certain extent rids him of pride. Haskalah proceeds from the axiom that a man really ought to hit upon a novel analysis or interpretation and, most importantly, that he himself should be the one to do it. The kernel of evil in this is its egotism, and this becomes manifest in showy behavior.

54. Scholars and peddlers

The Alter Rebbe expected chassidim to attain [the lofty level in the love of G‑d that is called] ahavah rabbah. This was what he demanded not only of those who were men of stature in Torah study and in avodah, but he demanded it also of peddlers — that their minds should be engaged in the subject of ahavah rabbah as they trudged from village to village with their bundles of merchandise on their backs.

And, indeed, the Alter Rebbe endowed them with the strength to do so. This kind of thinking involves setting oneself aside, as if one were non-existent, in the spirit of the teaching, “Set aside your will because of His will.”191 It is true that when one fulfills G‑d’s will there is also a certain degree of ego involved. Nevertheless, the motivation for this is “Like [that of] a son who strives for the sake of his father and mother, [whom he loves more than his own body and soul].”192 This too is an instance of setting aside one’s own being. And though the expression that “A son is a leg193 [i.e., an intrinsic component] of his father” suggests that a son is [after all] a separate entity,194 yet “a son who strives for the sake of his father” is not conscious of his own ego.

55. Something is missing

It is with compassion that I observe the Torah scholars, the young married yeshivah students. What they are lacking is the fear of Heaven, a warm upbringing, and guidance that springs from an utterly dedicated soul. Even if they see an example of a person who is G‑d-fearing and who fulfills the commandments punctiliously, he is G‑d-fearing from birth, devoid of vitality. The yeshivah students do not know what is meant by experiencing zest in one’s fear of Heaven.

There is reason to pity the students of the Tomchei Temimim Yeshivah, for they have beheld nothing of the Chabad-chassidic light of Torah and avodah. They have seen how a hundred and fifty or two hundred students with cultivated spiritual sensibilities195 study Chassidus as a group, their faces reflecting their concentration as they become intensely engrossed in the comprehension of profound concepts in Elokus that the ethereal denizens of the World of Atzilus would yearn to grasp. But they have not yet been privileged to see how dozens of students at prayer pour forth their souls in a rapture of dveikus. And they still know nothing of how a chassidisher young man should toil at self-cultivation, both in the refinement of his character and in the sensitizing of his mind in readiness for the grasp of a G‑dly concept.

May the Merciful One grant them success, so that through the mashpi’im and through their own dedication to the ways of chassidim they should fulfill all that they are being guided to do — and then, with G‑d’s help, they will bask in the rays of Torah and avodah.

56. The incarnation of a donkey

An oved ought to be an anav (“one who is humble”) and not a shafal196 (“one who is lowly”). A shafal is preoccupied with himself, his spirit weighted down by a broken and contrite heart. The anav, aware of what is lacking in his spiritual condition, forever yearns to improve himself, and gladly accepts criticism from whoever may offer it. At the same time, however, he retains a forcefulness that derives from his power of discernment,197 for he is aware of his own strengths. Yet his self-assertiveness (in the spirit of the verse, “His heart was lifted up [in the ways of G‑d]”198) is also characterized by a forcefulness that derives from his power of discernment.

When occasion arose, R. Aizel [of Homil] did not hesitate to rebuke. His style was decidedly pungent.

Once he remarked to R. Hillel [of Paritch]: “I envy you, Hillel. Your body is an incarnation of the donkey of R. Pinchas ben Yair.”

Replied R. Hillel: “I wish it were! But that is only by virtue of the body, and such a level can be attained only by means of great exertion according to the directives of the Torah.”

57. Questioning customs

There are those who ask, “What is this service to you?”199 After all, they argue, the law does not actually prescribe this kind of divine service. So why, before eating bread, should one wash each hand three times?200 Why should one wear a gartl? Why should a man immerse himself in a mikveh?

Let it be clear that inside the person who asks these questions lurks a tiny freethinker. This is a rule that everyone should know: It is certain that some of those who ask, “What is this service to you?” are to be numbered (Poor fellows!) among those who have been taken into captivity among the heretics and atheists,201 yet one should have nothing to do with them. Since such a person queries the very point of this kind of service, one should not engage in debate with him, nor attempt to transform his thinking; one should simply part company. If one happens to encounter a person who asks this question in the spirit of the son who asks, “What is this service to you?” by which he means [in the language of the Haggadah] לָכֶם, וְלֹא לוֹ — “‘to you,’ excluding himself,” then it makes no difference who the questioner is. Even if he is not a simple individual but a rabbi or teacher or whatever, one should keep one’s distance from him in order not to run the risk of being influenced by him.

Let it be clear that one who asks [as above], “What is this service to you?” – even if his question relates not to a mitzvah but to a Jewish custom – is a rasha [as in the Haggadah], and one may not associate with him. And the same applies if his question relates not to a custom, but even to an embellishment that someone might add to the most conscientious way in which a mitzvah is customarily performed.202

58. The Tzemach Tzedek stands firm

At the meetings of the Rabbinical Commission203 that took place in 5603 (1843), my great-grandfather the Tzemach Tzedek stood his ground to the point of literal self-sacrifice over every recommendation — even the most inconsequential — raised by the cruel Minister of Education, Count Uvarov.

At the opening session the Minister instructed the secretary to present the program that had been compiled by the Minister and his assistants for the education of Jewish children. He then ordered the four participants to sign the document — the Rebbe; the celebrated gaon, R. Itzele of Volozhin; a magnate by the name of [Israel] Halperin; and a scholar called [Bezalel] Stern.

Recognizing the dangers involved, the Rebbe was the first to speak up: “The Government summoned us to hear our opinions, not to sign what others have written.”

With that he refused to sign, and announced that he was resigning from the Commission.

Lilienthal,204 who was at Uvarov’s side, whispered something into the ear of the Minister, who flew into a rage and demanded: “Is not the law of the land binding?!”205

“That principle,” replied the Tzemach Tzedek, “applies only to material affairs, but not to things that are the province of the Kingdom of Heaven. In fact it applies only to financial matters such as taxation.206 Moreover, even a Jewish custom is law, and no one has the right to undo it.”

Uvarov countered: “Jewish women are accustomed to cover their faces with their hands when they kindle the Sabbath candles. Is that law, too?!”

“Yes, indeed,” replied the Tzemach Tzedek. “The Jerusalem Talmud207 states that the custom of women is Torah.”

59. The Torah is constant

There are people who argue [as above, sec. 57], “What is this service of yours? Here in America things are different; things are different nowadays!” One should keep in mind that a person who speaks in this way is under the influence of a rasha, and one should turn aside from him, for he is one of the blind who are led astray by learned [scoundrels].

Jews ought to know that the Torah is eternal, uniform in all places and at all times. One ought to go out into the streets and warn these people. Let it be clear that a line ought to be drawn between those people [who lead astray] and these [who are led]. One must keep one’s distance from them, not associate with them, and maintain no contact with them.

This subject comprises a positive and a negative commandment. The negative commandment is that the Torah, being eternal, does not vary according to place and time. The positive commandment is the obligation to engage in public education: one Jew should make another Jew [aware of his heritage].

60. Unity in diversity

Today’s reading208 of Tanya,209 as noted in HaYom Yom,210 amplifies an utterly praiseworthy aspiration — to have oneself included and absorbed into the totality of the divine service of the entire community of Israel. This is the exact opposite of the attitude of the person who asks, “What is this service to you?”211

There is a principle that obtains in all matters, including the service of the Creator, especially as conducted according to the teachings of Chassidus: “The measure in which blessing is given is greater than the measure of punishment.”212 [This principle may be applied in our context, too.]

[The Haggadah comments on the wicked son’s question:] “By thus excluding himself from the community he denies a fundamental principle of our faith.” This denial appears in the very phrasing of his question, “What is this service to you?” — to the exclusion of himself. For with this question he is excluding himself from the community of Israel who accepted the Torah and its commandments [at Sinai] by first declaring “We shall fulfill,”213 and only then saying “We shall hear,” without asking “Why?” [On the negative side, then, this statement of self-exclusion has serious repercussions.]

Now since, as we have quoted, the measure of the positive outweighs the measure of the negative, it is clear that the noble aspiration to have one’s own divine service coalesce with that of the entire House of Israel soars far aloft into the supernal worlds. And this is what is amplified in today’s reading of Tanya.

Various kinds of union214 are explained by the [Alter] Rebbe [in ch. 41].

In the first instance, an individual is here urged to unite and attach “the source of his divine soul and the source of the souls of all Israel”215 to G‑d Himself. With this the Alter Rebbe explains the words we recite [before performing certain commandments]: Leshem yichud… — “For the sake of the union of the Holy One, blessed be He, with His Shechinah… in the name of all Israel.” For with these words, every individual subsumes himself in the plurality of the community of Israel, and at the same time makes himself an envoy of the community of Israel — to unite the Holy One, blessed be He, with His Shechinah, in the name of all of Israel.

By appointing himself a representative of all of Israel for the purpose of effecting this union, each such individual invokes the principle that the measure of the positive outweighs the measure of the negative. For all of Israel is an entire community, and is hence an entity whose virtue in many vital respects far surpasses that of any individual.

The [Alter] Rebbe goes on to say that though such a union should spring from [the rare and lofty level of altruistic love of G‑d called] ahavah rabbah, yet in order to cause Him gratification, everyone should nevertheless habituate himself to this intent.

Secondly, there is a union216 that takes place in the World of Atzilus. It is a wondrous union, initiated by the divine service of mortal man through his study of the Torah and his fulfillment of the commandments.

Thirdly, there is a union between (on the one hand) the Torah and its commandments and (on the other hand) a man’s Divine soul. This union is brought about by a man’s spiritual labors that are directed “for the sake of the union of the Holy One, blessed be He, with His Shechinah” — specifically in the name of all of Israel.

Fourthly, the soul becomes united with Divinity, this being the innate desire of every Jew.

The [Alter] Rebbe proceeds to tell us that once a man’s soul takes its leave of his body, it is occupied with the letters of the Torah and of prayer, and does not think of bodily affairs; exactly so should a man be occupied during his lifetime with his divine service in the Torah and the commandments.

One of the chassidim of the Tzemach Tzedek, R. Shneur Zalman of Polotzk, had memorized (among other things) the entire Talmud, both Babylonian and Jerusalem. The Rebbe once told him that he ought to review Mishnayos from memory, and explained: “When my grandfather (the Alter Rebbe) says in Chapter 41, ‘Just as when [the soul] leaves the body at the end of seventy years, for then it does not think of bodily needs, but its thought is united with, and clothed in, the letters of Torah and prayer,’ — he is referring to the period immediately after a man’s passing. When a man repeats Mishnayos by heart for years on end, the main intent of which is uttering the letters of the Torah, it is then granted him to repeat Mishnayos after his passing. And then those letters escort his soul to the Heavenly Court through the meritorious chamber of the letters of the Torah and prayer.”

Fifthly, in a gigantic step of ahavas Yisrael, and out of self-sacrifice for chassidim, the Alter Rebbe empowers all those who walk in the paths of chassidim to be incorporated within the unity of the Creator — by devoting a thought to Him, and by occupying themselves with the letters of the Torah and of prayer.

At the Evening Seudah Seventh Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

61. A glimpse of a Rebbe’s inner life

Shevi’i shel Pesach, the Seventh Day of the festival, was a time at which flashes of the inner life of our Rebbeim became visible217 to the chassidim of their respective generations.

The distinctive tone of the day began with the afternoon of the eve of the festival. The cleansing immersion218 [in the mikveh] on the eve of Shevi’i shel Pesach was different to that of the eve of Shabbos or the eve of other festivals; it was even different to the immersion on the eve of Rosh HaShanah or the eve of Yom Kippur.219

Tevilas taharah does not mean that one immerses only for the sake of the purification of the body (taharas haguf), nor even for the [further] refinement of the body (zikuch haguf).

There is a significant difference between these two concepts. Purification of the body signifies that one’s immersion removes his impurity. Refinement of the body applies to a person whose immersion makes him cleaner than he was; it applies to a person who was not impure before his immersion — but neither was he pure, and his immersion now cleanses him utterly.

The distinction may be understood by a simple material analogy. So long as a vessel is dirty it is not only useless, but it spoils any edible food that may be put in it. It therefore has to be washed. When it is no longer dirty, but not yet utterly clean, it will no longer spoil food, though it can displace its flavor by an aftertaste of its own. Only a thorough scouring will fully restore such a vessel’s usefulness.

On the spiritual plane, the distinction between the purification of the body and the refinement of the body obtains at the level of intellect, at the level of middos, and at the level of the so-called “garments” of the soul,220 viz., thought, speech and action.

As is well known, everything that G‑d has created comprises a body and a soul; indeed, the body and the soul of man each comprise a body and a soul. Man is a symbiotic combination of body and soul: the soul animates the body, and the body obeys the soul’s directives. But beyond their symbiotic combination, the soul has its body and the body has its soul.

Since the Holy One, blessed be He, Who “performs wonders” in linking221 a spiritual soul with a physical body, is omnipotent, He not only combines them222 in such a way that one cannot distinguish between the soul that animates the body and the body that is animated by the soul, but moreover, in each soul He has matched its body and in each body He has matched its soul.

The Creator has ordained that the soul is a spiritual essence and the body is a material essence. This principle obtains not only in relation to body and soul, but also to all created beings. Within the soul, for example, every faculty and sense223 comprises a soul and a body. The faculty of intellect has a soul and a body: Chochmah has its soul and body and Binah has its soul and body. These bodies are not identical with the [physical] brain of Chochmah which is cool and moist and the [physical] brain of Binah which is warm and dry; these bodies are spiritual entities, but they are the essential bodies of the faculties of Chochmah and Binah. The same is true of the other faculties of the soul.

Herein lies the distinction between the purification (taharah) of the body and the refinement (zikuch) of the body. The cleansing of the organs of the soul’s faculties (such as the coldness of the faculty of Chochmah or the warmth of the faculty of Binah) is called the refinement of the body; the cleansing of the organs of the vessels of the intellect (viz., the essence of the brain of Chochmah and the essence of the brain of Binah) is called the purification of the body. In general terms, this is the meaning of immersion — the purification and refinement of the bodies of the faculties of the soul.

Immersion may also be particularized. A particular faculty of the soul may be in need of purification and refinement, and this may take place at a variety of levels. Immersion for the sake of cleansing the intellect will be different from immersion for the sake of cleansing the heart, which will be different in turn from immersion for the sake of cleansing the garments of the soul, viz., thought, speech and action. And indeed, many particular levels are distinguishable within the levels of the intellect, the spiritual emotions, and the garments of the soul.

Immersion varies likewise in terms of time. An ordinary weekday immersion is different from immersion on Mondays and Thursdays (the days on which the Torah is publicly read), or on fast days, or on the eve of Shabbos and festivals and the eve of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, or on Shabbos and festivals.

62. Help yourselves!

Immersion in a mikveh on the eve of the Seventh Day of Pesach is closely bound up with the spiritual moves that are made in the Sefiros of the supernal worlds and in the various levels within the soul that is found in every Jew.

It was the custom of my revered father to spend a considerable time in solitude on the eve of every Shabbos and festival. Though his door was not closed, no man dared to enter his study at this time. I managed to devise a means of observing him as he sat alone, his eyes closed, his holy face aflame, from time to time softly singing to himself and marking the rhythm on the table with his middle finger. On the eve of the Seventh Day of Pesach he sat alone in this way longer than usual.

On the Seventh Day and on the last day of Pesach, chassidim caught more of a glimpse of the inner life of our Rebbeim than they did on Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur.

On Rosh HaShanah one could see and sense the way in which my father was a man apart. One could see it in the several whispered chapters of Tehillim that he would recite until it was time for Maariv; one could see it in the deep-seated brokenness of spirit that could be traced on his face, as tears springing from a blood-torn heart trickled down his holy features; one could see it in the awe and dread with which he embarked on the prayers of Maariv by sounding the well-known melody of the Alter Rebbe with its dual themes, one of them taking its leave of the year now drawing to a close, the other voicing a hope for the year now beginning.

At other times one could observe my father’s avodah in the course of the prayers that are recited before retiring at night, and one could observe whatever was revealed at each of the festivals. But what was revealed on the Seventh Day of Pesach was something quite distinctive.

As is known, the Alter Rebbe once told his children on the Seventh Day of Pesach: “Help yourselves to Chassidus, help yourselves to purity — for yourselves and your children and for their children for generation after generation.”

The spiritual revelations of the Seventh Day of Pesach are sensed in every Jew in the soul-level called neshamah. Accordingly, the goal of each individual’s spiritual labors is that these revelations be felt in the [lower] soul-level called nefesh that is close to the soul’s faculties — that they be felt within him at least to the extent that his nefesh manifests itself. This is a state in which the individual himself is not aware of what is the matter with him; he only senses that within him a transformation is taking place. It finds expression in a spirit of elation that enriches the faculties and senses of his soul, so that [G‑dly concepts] are better grasped and more solidly integrated.

63. A Baal-Shem-like year

Today marks a hundred years from the Seventh Day of Pesach in the year 5603 (1843), when my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, was preparing himself for his journey to Petersburg.224

My grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, used to call that year “a Baal-Shem-like year.”225 It was an extraordinary period, during which my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, conducted his life differently from his customary style.

Everything he ever did followed a clear order, and those who were near to him knew its stages; for example, what time he was accustomed to rise in the morning; when it was time for the fixed group of chassidim to begin the thrice-daily prayer services in the little minyan adjoining his study; and so too with the way he organized his day. Though his door was always open, no one ever walked into his study until he called for one of the gabbaim who sat in the waiting-room. The same applied to his children. If they wanted to enter his study they waited until he called for one of the gabbaim, and then through him they asked whether they should go inside.

From the very beginning of the year 5603, however, it was apparent that the Tzemach Tzedek was ordering his life differently.

Everyone, chassidim included, knew that for the Rebbe226 the avodah of the new year began on Chai (the eighteenth of) Elul227 — the birthday of our mentor, the Baal Shem Tov, and of our first father, the [Alter] Rebbe.

This fact became known to chassidim through an incident involving my greatuncle, the Rabash (R. Baruch Shalom),228 on Monday, 16 Elul, 5589 (1829), in Lubavitch.

The Alter Rebbe dearly cherished my greatuncle, whose duty it was to visit his great-grandfather every day, from the time that he began to attend cheder. When he was six years old the Alter Rebbe taught him the grammar of the Holy Tongue. When he was seven he taught him the melodies with which the Tanach is cantillated, those used for the Writings being different to those used for the reading of the Torah or the Prophets.

Within the Torah itself the Alter Rebbe had received traditions as to the distinctive melodies according to which he would read the Songs, the Ten Commandments in Parshas Yisro and [differently] in Parshas Vaeschanan, and the two verses beginning Vayehi binso’a.229

From the day that the Alter Rebbe left Liadi230 (during the Napoleonic invasion) with his family and some of his chassidim, until the last day of his life in This World, my greatuncle was at his side. He sat next to him in his carriage and slept in his room.

“For a hundred and forty-two days,” he later related to my father, “I was privileged to be within the holy precincts of my great-grandfather, the Alter Rebbe. From that grim Thursday evening, the twenty-fifth of Menachem Av, when the evil tidings reached us that Napoleon (May his name he blotted out!) had already arrived in Orsha and was marching towards Liadi, until that melancholy Motzaei Shabbos on the eve of 24 Teves,231 5573 (1812), I was privileged to be in his immediate company.”

The intense inner bond of love that the Alter Rebbe showed my greatuncle left its impact on him, and when he passed away the child232 was brokenhearted. For the next twelve years he fasted on Chai Elul, his great-grandfather’s birthday, except when it fell on a Shabbos, in which case he would fast on the preceding Thursday.

On Shabbos Parshas Seitzei, 13 Elul, 5585 (1825), the Mitteler Rebbe spoke about birthdays of tzaddikim in general, and in particular about the birthdays of individuals whose souls are bound up with those of their contemporaries. He spoke of the great festive meal that was held on such days in the Lower Garden of Eden and in the Higher Garden of Eden; in this context, “meal” signifies that the souls present basked in the radiance of the Divine Presence, perceiving and comprehending the very essence of Divinity. All those souls, he explained, take their leave of the soul of the particular tzaddik that is about to descend to This World, and wish it success in fulfilling the purpose of its descent into a body.

The Mitteler Rebbe went on to explain that the festive meal celebrated in the Lower and Higher Garden of Eden in honor of a soul of comprehensive scope233 is quite different from the festive meal that is celebrated in honor of any other tzaddik. When the great Heavenly Court has decreed that a particular comprehensive soul is to descend to This World and to be born at a certain time to particular parents, then at some time before the formation of the infant body in which it is to be enclothed, the Court sets aside a heavenly shrine especially for that soul. In this shrine an academy of learning is established, presided over by that soul, which expounds the Torah to the listening souls of the righteous. And when the appointed time comes for that soul to make its descent, this festive meal is graced by the presence of all the comprehensive souls, with Moshe Rabbeinu at their head. They bless this soul with success in its public mission, and promise their help and support in its fulfillment. This is why the birthday of a tzaddik — especially of a tzaddik whose soul is interlocked with the souls of his contemporaries — is a veritable festival in all the higher worlds; it is a propitious moment, a time at which the Almighty, so to speak, rejoices. And all those [in This World] who participate in this great celebration derive sustenance from the Supernal table, from the festive meal that is held Above, in the Lower Garden of Eden and in the Higher Garden of Eden.

My greatuncle, R. Baruch Shalom, listened to these words from the mouth of his grandfather, the Mitteler Rebbe. His father, the Tzemach Tzedek, then drew on the basic principles of the Kabbalah to explain the meaning of the assemblage of souls in the Lower and Upper Garden of Eden, and proceeded to expound a number of teachings of the Sages as found in the Talmud, Zohar and Midrash. Hearing all of this, R. Baruch Shalom earnestly regretted having set aside the holy day of Chai Elul as an annual fast. Accordingly, on Sunday, the fourteenth of Elul, he had his [implicit] vow annulled, and moved his fast ahead to the Monday or Thursday preceding Chai Elul.

Now my greatuncle was a very private person, and all aspects of his avodah were utterly inconspicuous. That year, 5585, he observed his voluntary fast on the Monday, and set aside the following Thursday, Chai Elul, as a day of rejoicing.

In the summer of 5589 (1829) he was unwell, and was under doctor’s orders never to miss breakfast. Since Chai Elul was to fall on the Wednesday of the week of Parshas Savo, he fasted on the preceding Monday, the sixteenth of Elul. He was so weak that he fainted several times and had to spend the day in bed, but even then no one knew why.

Came Wednesday, Chai Elul, and he was still confined to his bed with high fever. When his father, the Tzemach Tzedek, came to visit him, he said: “Gut Yom-Tov! Today, Chai Elul, is a threefold festival. It is the birthday of our master, the Baal Shem Tov; it is the birthday of my grandfather, the Alter Rebbe; and it marks the beginning of one’s avodah for the new year. For the last thirty-two years,234 since 5557 (1797), my grandfather has been delivering a chassidic discourse for me. The subject of each year’s maamar almost exclusively concerns the avodah of the forthcoming year, for as is well known, each year of a man’s life has its own distinctive avodah.”

64. Unique petitions

In the year 5602 (1842), Chai Elul fell on a Wednesday, and on that very day a change could be discerned in the Rebbe’s conduct.235 It was the first time on Chai Elul that the Rebbe had called Minchah for an hour and a half after midday. He had asked that Maariv should not begin until he gave the word, and then spent the entire day in seclusion. Not until eleven at night did he open his door and give the word for Maariv to begin.

There was a tradition among the chassidim of earlier generations that the avodah of the Rebbeim was different in a leap year from that of an ordinary year. Some chassidim now thought, therefore, that the Rebbe’s novel schedule could be explained by the fact that the forthcoming year was a leap year, and for tzaddikim this meant that its avodah began on the preceding Chai Elul. They soon realized, however, that this explanation would not suffice, because previous leap years had not been foreshadowed by this kind of separateness and seclusion.

The real reason for the change was that the Alter Rebbe had informed the Tzemach Tzedek that a difficult year lay ahead — and difficult it certainly was. For it was in that year (1843) that the Tzemach Tzedek traveled to Petersburg to participate in the Rabbinical Commission,236 where he underwent considerable suffering at the hands of the freethinking maskil, Menachem Lilienthal, grandson of the freethinking maskil, Shimon Zamuter. (In Vilna, at any rate, this was the name — a product of his own invention — by which the grandfather was known. His story is told in full in Shalsheles HaOr, Heichal Shelishi.)

On the eve of Rosh HaShanah of the same year there was another departure from custom. Every year, after Hataras Nedarim237 on that morning, when the ad hoc court of ten had blessed the Tzemach Tzedek with long life (for this was his birthday), he used to respond, “Amen, may G‑d speak likewise!” Sometimes he would respond, “Amen, may this be His Will!” On this occasion he gave the latter response, but then he added, “The fifty-fourth year of a man’s life is a difficult year: one needs a doubled and trebled blessing.”

On the same day, and again on the Fast of Gedaliah238 (the anniversary of the passing of his mother,239 the Rebbitzin Devorah Leah), the Rebbe sent his gabbai, R. Chaim Dov Ber, with a pidyon to his mother’s resting place in Liozna.

The text of both petitions was identical: “The Berlinists240 are waxing strong; the decree is ready for publication. Their plan is to summon rabbis who will agree to their proposals. One way or the other, whether I live or…, please go to your father’s heavenly chamber and pass on my request that he should arouse Divine mercy so that the decrees should be annulled. And if I am found worthy, may it be G‑d’s Will that they be annulled through me.”

65. How to keep a secret

My grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, used to say that R. Chaim Dov Ber, the gabbai of the Tzemach Tzedek, was someone who really knew how to keep a secret – for there are three levels in this art. Sometimes one can tell that a man has a secret, but he does not reveal it; sometimes one cannot even tell that he has a secret; sometimes when another person who already knows the secret tells it to him, he pretends to be listening to fresh news. The last is the man who really knows how to keep a secret — and such a man was R. Chaim Dov Ber.

R. Chaim Dov Ber was born in Rudnia, in the province of Mohilev; his father was R. Aharon Beinush. He was a man of quite ordinary gifts, but was born truthful and artless. During the lifetime of the Mitteler Rebbe he had married the daughter of a storekeeper in Lubavitch, R. Moshe Shmuel, who supported him according to custom for the first few years after his marriage while he engaged in Torah and Chassidus.

In the year 5578 (1818) the Tzemach Tzedek took him into his house as a scribe, his task being to copy various learned works that were still in manuscript. Lubavitch at that time boasted quite a number of such scribes with beautiful handwriting, but my great-grandfather chose R. Chaim Dov Ber for his simple sincerity. With him he could be certain that no one would know what he was copying.

For twelve years he copied my great-grandfather’s manuscripts in both the revealed plane of the Torah and in Chassidus, and in 5590 (1830) he appointed him his gabbai.

So expert was R. Chaim Dov Ber at keeping a secret, that not only did no one know that the Rebbe was sending him on a mission to his mother’s resting place, but no one even noticed that he had left town. On both occasions, erev Rosh HaShanah and the Fast of Gedaliah, he set out at night, fulfilled his mission in Liozna at daybreak, and travelled back in time to arrive at the expected hour, without anyone having known a thing.

66. To avert spiritual suffocation

At the evening meal of the Seventh Day of Pesach in the year 5603 (1843), my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, spoke as follows.

“Shevi’i shel Pesach, the Seventh Day of Pesach, is the New Year for self-sacrifice. When Moshe Rabbeinu241 passed on the Divine directive, ‘Speak to the Children of Israel, and let them journey ahead,’242 Nachshon ben Aminadav243 immediately leaped into the sea, impelled by the power of self-sacrifice. Now the Divine revelations of the Seventh Day of Pesach are essential revelations244 and are initiated from Above.245 It is true, [moreover,] that there is a principle that ‘All sevenths are cherished’;246 this must be especially true of the seventh [day] from the time at which ‘the King of kings,247 the Holy One, blessed be He, revealed Himself to [the Children of Israel] and redeemed them,’ this being an essential revelation that takes place on the first night of Pesach. Nevertheless, the essential revelations of the Seventh Day of Pesach and the Splitting of the Red Sea — in which the sea (‘the hidden world’)248 was transformed into dry land (‘the revealed world’)249 — had to be preceded by self-sacrifice. And so it was that Nachshon ben Aminadav performed an act of actual self-sacrifice for the sake of G‑d’s command, ‘Let them journey ahead.’ This was an act of self-sacrifice for the ‘onward journeying’250 of which Avraham Avinu was the trailblazer.

“The Seventh Day of Pesach, then, is the Rosh HaShanah of self-sacrifice. Today a Jew should and can arm himself with the might of self-sacrifice for the Torah and its commandments, and with self-sacrifice in his service of the Creator, throughout the entire year.”

At the midday meal on the Seventh Day of Pesach my great-grandfather said the following.

“There is an explicit legal principle that when something which is regular (or frequent) coincides with something which is irregular (or infrequent), the former takes precedence.’251 This principle finds application in the following discussions in the Talmud: (a) in the debate as to whether or not the blessing recited over the wine [of Kiddush] should precede the blessing pronounced over the sanctity of the day;252 (b) in the debate as to whether or not the Psalm sung in honor of Shabbos should precede the one sung in honor of Rosh Chodesh, the New Moon;253 and (c) in the debate as to the order of the respective Torah readings for Rosh Chodesh and Chanukah.254

“From all these three legal discussions, the following becomes clear as to the meaning of tadir [translated above as ‘regular (or frequent)’]: (a) it refers to the day of the week;255 this we learn from the discussion on the Daily Psalm, where we see that its opposite term (‘not tadir’) is used to describe the monthly Psalm newly arrived on the scene; (b) it is also a quantitative term; this we see from the discussion over the blessings to be recited over the wine [which appears frequently] or over the day. The meaning of day we learn from the discussion on the Daily Psalm — we learn that the essential nature of each particular day is expressed in its Daily Psalm. We learn too that days in general receive their energy through the Torah Reading of those passages that are relevant to them. From this one can conclude that the element of tadir in each day of the week is its particular passage in the Torah’s account of the Six Days of Creation, and that this passage gives strength to [the distinctive nature of] each day.

“This explains the daily custom of certain individuals, whose divine service is systematically gradated, to read each day’s particular passage. Just as on Shabbos one reads the passage that begins Vaychulu hashamayim — “The heavens… were completed,”256 so on Sunday do these people read from “In the beginning” until “And it was evening and it was morning — one day,”257 and similarly on the other days of the week. There is, however, a difference: the passage relating to Shabbos is read Friday evening, and it is read three times,258 whereas the other daily passages are read once, either before or after the morning prayers.

“As far as today is concerned, its tadir aspect is the fact that it is Wednesday, and its ‘not tadir’ aspect is the fact that it is the Seventh Day of Pesach. In the Torah passage connected with this day of the week we read, Yehi m’oros (יְהִי מְאֹרֹת) — ‘Let there be luminaries.’259 In this verse, the noun is not spelled in full (מְאוֹרוֹת), which would make it derive unequivocally from מָאוֹר (‘a luminary’), signifying a source of beneficence and blessing; ‘it is spelled defectively260 — מְאֹרֹת,’ which [also] relates it to מְאֵרָה (‘a curse’). On Wednesday the luminaries were suspended261 [in the heavens] to illuminate the earth. On the spiritual plane, ‘luminaries’ signify the little children who study in Torah schools, those whose ‘sinless breath... sustains the world.’262 In our verse, however, the word for ‘luminaries’ is spelled מְאֹרֹת, and Rashi comments263 that it is spelled without a vav since [Wednesday] is a day when small children are threatened by the curse (מְאֵרָה) of choking. Croup, the Gemara teaches, is a punishment for the sin of evil speech;264 it threatens on Wednesdays, for this was the day on which the moon sinned265 by speaking evilly against the sun.

“As far as today’s ‘not tadir’ aspect is concerned, the reading [for the Seventh Day of Pesach] is the passage beginning Az yashir,266 the song of exultation over the revelation of G‑d’s very Being at the Splitting of the Red Sea.”

The Tzemach Tzedek concluded with a blessing: “May the Almighty be compassionate, so that this song of exultation will annul the decree of spiritual choking that the Berlinists seek to issue, with the government’s backing, against Jewish children.”267

Further details about this year (1843) in which the first Rabbinical Commission was convened, during the reign of the tyrant Nicholas, are to be found in Kovetz Shalsheles HaOr, Heichal Chamishi (i.e., [the above-mentioned book by the Rebbe Rayatz entitled] The Tzemach Tzedek and the Haskala Movement).

67. Self-sacrifice

Avraham Avinu was the first to open the way for self-sacrifice268 for the sake of disseminating a knowledge of Divinity in the world. R. Akiva sought self-sacrifice. Indeed he said, “All my days269 I was distressed by the verse [that commands one to love G‑d] b’chol nafsh’cha — ‘with all your soul,’ [which the Mishnah explains to mean that one should love Him] ‘even if He takes your soul.’270 I used to say, ‘When will [this verse] present itself to me, so that I shall be able to fulfill it?’”

Avraham Avinu, by contrast, did not seek self-sacrifice: he did not even think about it. His only thought was how to make the knowledge of G‑d widespread in the world. When self-sacrifice was called for it did not hinder him in the slightest; he did not even know that it was self-sacrifice, and when he was in prison he continued with his task of disseminating the knowledge of G‑d.

At the time of the Splitting of the Red Sea there was a different kind of self-sacrifice: Nachshon ben Aminadav leaped into the sea.

The first act of self-sacrifice was in the fire of the furnace of Ur Casdim;271 the second took place in water. This is what is alluded to in the phrase, “We have gone through fire and water”272 — a reference to these two kinds of self-sacrifice for the Sanctification of the Divine Name.273

68. Breaking free of habits

The Splitting of the Red Sea was preceded by the Exodus from Egypt, which signifies getting out of one’s straits274 and boundaries. In terms of avodah, this means freeing oneself of one’s habits. The next step is the Splitting of the Red Sea, which means developing a sensitivity to Atzmus, to G‑d’s own Being. This means walking down the street and observing heaven and earth, and sensing that such a creation could only be the work of the very Being of the Infinite One. This kind of perception can be had by a person who cultivates himself in the direction of forsaking habitude.

Freeing oneself of one’s habits is a labor of self-sacrifice. Every Jew has the strength to accomplish it — except that one has to want to actually do it, instead of satisfying oneself with the knowledge that one has the potential.

69. Now that we are free of the Czar…

It is time that everyone knew that the desecrators of Shabbos are not our leaders: not through them will the Redemption come. In Eretz Yisrael children have been brought from Poland, from families killed in Sanctification of the Divine Name, and have been enrolled in unjewish schools. This is shameless gall. If it is firmly opposed, it will be overcome. Opposition likewise needs to be raised against the local nonkosher Talmud Torah schools and yeshivos that are harming the Jews of this country spiritually and materially.

Like all countries that are living in dread of the tyrant,275 this country is in sore need of Divine mercy. The Jewish People is in even more desperate need of mercy. Protection comes about through the observance of practical commandments and the study of the Torah; in the words of the Sages, “[The mitzvos and the Torah] protect and save.”276

As recorded in my notes at the time, my father and I spent five weeks in Petersburg on public business during the Russian Revolution of 1917. On our return, the learned R. Yitzchak Yoel Raphaelovitch accompanied us as far as Kharkov, and R. Elye Chaim Althaus all the way home to Rostov.

At one of the railway stations R. Elye Chaim got hold of a newspaper with the latest news. When my father read that the Czar had been overthrown and that this was now to be a free country, he said: “Now we have to establish Tomchei Temimim Yeshivos in every city and township. Now that the Haskalah is spreading we have to set up a great number of chadarim and yeshivos. At all times, and in all matters, it is the power of self-sacrifice that comes out victorious.”

70. Binding oneself to G‑d

Those who want to be connected with the [Alter] Rebbe — and such a bond brings real benefits, both material and spiritual — and who [accordingly] study the daily reading of Tanya as indicated in HaYom Yom, have read today277 a certain passage from ch. 42.

There the [Alter] Rebbe says: “This capacity and this quality278 of attaching one’s Daas to G‑d is present in every soul of the House of Israel.” What does the Alter Rebbe seek to convey with specifically these words, ‘this capacity and this quality’?

Just before this the Alter Rebbe says: “However, the essence of knowledge is not merely knowing alone, that people should know the greatness of G‑d from authors and books, but the essential thing is to immerse one’s own mind deeply into the greatness of G‑d, and fix one’s thought on G‑d with strength and vigor of the heart and mind, until his thought will be bound to G‑d with a strong and mighty bond, as it is bound to a material thing which he sees with his physical eyes and upon which he concentrates his thought....”

This means that just as it is common experience to become attached to a physical thing by seeing it, because it is relevant to him, so ought one to feel attached to Divinity. What is intended here is not study alone, but mainly active avodah. This is achieved through Daas, by immersing one’s mind deeply “with strength and vigor of the heart.” We Jews all possess this capacity by virtue of our nurture from the soul of Moshe Rabbeinu.

It is this connection that the Alter Rebbe refers to as “this capacity and this quality.” Everyone has the capacity and ability [to apply his mind in the way described above] — except that one has to want to do so.

The fact is, however, that because the soul is enclothed in a body it is very difficult to attach oneself [to G‑d] with a strength and vigor of heart as one ought to. But since the Alter Rebbe is kindhearted, he offers two pieces of advice. One of these is the exertion of the flesh — crushing oneself; as the Zohar says, “A body into which the light of the soul does not penetrate should be crushed.”279 This signifies repentance from the depths of one’s heart. The second piece of advice will be explained in due course.

At the Midday Meal Seventh Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

71. Father and son

There are two sets of terms describing two concepts that appear to be identical, but in fact are only similar: “father and progeny”280 and “principle [or: root] and offshoot.”281 These are in fact only borrowed terms that also describe other, related concepts.

Though an offshoot derives from its principle just as a child derives from its father, it is not as intimately close to its source. Let us consider a tangible instance. A disciple, having thoroughly understood his mentor’s rational exposition of a concept, might occasionally propose an alternative explanation. Though this novel approach is an offshoot of the principle that he has been taught, it can conceivably be inconsistent with it, despite the resemblance between their respective particulars. This is what we mean when we say that an offshoot is not as close to its principle as a child is to its father.

72. Eager aspiration and sober resignation

One of the many areas in which the above distinction surfaces is the blessing, Yishar ko’ach – “More power to you!” It is used by congregants in addressing (a) the Kohanim who have just completed their blessing,282 and (b) the sheliach tzibbur who has just finished leading the prayers. In one sense these two cases are similar. The Torah obliges the Kohanim to bless their fellow Jews and likewise obliges the sheliach tzibbur to help his fellow worshipers discharge their obligations, and they all deserve a hearty Yishar ko’ach. But this blessing has a different meaning in each case.

The Priestly Blessing283 in the Torah concludes with the phrase, Va’ani avarachem — “And I shall bless them.” Though the Sages understand this to mean that G‑d Himself blesses the Kohanim284 for having blessed the people, the congregants in addition nevertheless greet the Kohanim with their own Yishar ko’ach — and this has its effect on the way in which they receive their blessing. The relationship between their Yishar ko’ach, and the way in which they receive their blessing, parallels the relationship between father and offspring.

The Yishar ko’ach offered to the sheliach tzibbur, by contrast, reflects the relationship between offshoot and principle.

However, the Yishar ko’ach offered to the person who, word for word, acts as prompter for the Priestly Blessing,285 has to do with opening the downflow of the blessing. (This is evidenced by the parallel case of the person who, blast for blast, acts as prompter for the one who sounds the shofar; in this case, the prompter’s mental and spiritual intent286 are critical.) [As with the Yishar ko’ach offered the Kohanim themselves], the relationship between (a) the Yishar ko’ach offered the prompter for the Priestly Blessing and (b) opening the downflow of blessing, is parallel to the relationship between father and offspring.

Now today I heard Reb Sh. P., the sheliach tzibbur for Mussaf, who prompted the Kohanim during their Blessing and sang its well-known melody287 — and was greatly pleased. To you, the Kohen, Reb Y. K., I say Yishar ko’ach for the Blessing of the Kohanim. To you, Reb Sh. P., I say Yishar ko’ach for acting as sheliach tzibbur and as prompter for the Blessing, and a special Yishar ko’ach for the melody that accompanies it.

The first time I heard it sung during the Blessing of the Kohanim, in Riga, I was quite taken by it and investigated its origins. I heard from the late R. Shmuel Yaakov Katz — whose father had heard from his father, a member of the Mitteler Rebbe’s choir — that the chassidim who constituted the choir had composed this niggun according to the directives and expositions of the Mitteler Rebbe.

And in fact it perfectly suits the Blessing of the Kohanim. For, as is well known, the aim of this Blessing is “to incorporate the left side in the right side,” [i.e., to incorporate yirah in one’s ahavah,] and this is accomplished through the [dual] avodah of ratzo [i.e., the desire of the soul to reach out of its corporeal confines towards its Source] and shov288 [i.e., the realization that its ultimate duty lies in This World]. And this is why the above niggun particularly suits the Blessing of the Kohanim — for its two themes likewise alternate between a mood of ratzo [in an insistent outcry of yearning] and a mood of shov [in a subdued, lower-register refrain of calm resignation].

73. The soul’s means of expression

Thought and speech, which are called “garments” of the soul,289 are ancillary faculties.290

The language of classical Jewish philosophy291 classifies the faculties of the soul into four categories: Delight (oneg) and will (ratzon) are known as the separate faculties (nivdalim); the intellectual faculties (Chabad) are called masters (adonim); the faculties of thought (machshavah) and speech (dibbur) are called attendants (mesharsim); and action (maaseh) is called a servant (eved) — because it is the faculty that actually executes that which brings the individual delight, that which he wills, which he understands and is emotionally involved in, and thinks and speaks of.

As to thought and speech, the attendant or ancillary faculties, thought is an attendant that waits on the intellect, while speech is an attendant that waits on the emotive attributes.

A perception that arrives at the faculty of Chochmah from ko’ach hamaskil, the superconscious source of intellection, makes its appearance as a lightning flash. It is true that the faculties of Binah and Daas are incorporated in the faculty of Chochmah, but the germinal perception is still in need of an attendant, namely, thought.

Speech is the attendant that serves the middos, which explains why the manner in which any one of the emotive attributes is manifested depends on speech. This fact also underlies the principle that “Words that proceed from the heart find their way into another’s heart.”292 Just as a thought is not consummated until it is not only understood by the thinker but also explained to another, so too with the emotive attributes — and these cannot be communicated to another without their attendant: they will become manifest according to the manner in which speech is used.

Chassidus classifies the faculties of the soul into three categories: (a) the transcendent or superconscious faculties (kochos makkifim); (b) the internal or conscious faculties (kochos pnimi’im); and (c) the garments of the soul (levushim). The faculties of delight and will fall into the first category, for they are the catalyst of all the other faculties and their activities. Intellect (i.e., Chabad) and the emotive faculties (middos) and so on — all the faculties that have vessels, i.e., corporeal organs in which they become enclothed — are termed by Chassidus internal or conscious faculties. And in chassidic terminology, thought, speech and action are called the garments of the soul.

Delight and will, the transcendent or superconscious faculties, also have their attendant, namely, [the singing of a meditative, inspirational] melody. And just as thought and speech have been imbued by the Creator with certain characteristics, by virtue of which thought is an attendant for the intellect and speech is an attendant for the emotive attributes, so too has music been imbued with certain characteristics that enable it to be an attendant serving delight and will.

Though the nature and functions of attendants and their service are similar in all circumstances, various differences may be distinguished. This may be tangibly perceived even in the avodah of the Kohen Gadol in the inner sanctuary of the Beis HaMikdash.

The Kohen Gadol is referred to as “G‑d’s attendant.”293 And the Four-Letter Name of G‑d has two meanings:הֲוָיָ־ה דִלְעֵילָא (lit., “G‑d Above”) and 294הֲוָיָ־ה דִלְתַתָּא (lit., “G‑d below”). When the Kohen Gadol entered the Holy of Holies to offer the incense, he was an attendant of “G‑d Above”; when he entered to pray on behalf of the community of Israel and for the Beis HaMikdash service, he was the attendant of “G‑d below.”

The different levels within the service of the Kohen Gadol in the Beis HaMikdash are a classic case from which one may understand the different levels among the attendant faculties of the soul — speech being an attendant for the middos, thought being an attendant for the intellect, and music being an attendant for the faculties of delight and will.

74. Souls and niggunim

The above explanation will enable us to understand a teaching of my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, at the table on the Second day of Shavuos in the year 5610 (1850): “A melody that conveys a consciously-directed message295 opens a gate from the yechidah to the chayah, and from the chayah to the [three lower levels of the soul known by their acrostic as] Naran.”

The five levels within the soul — nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah and yechidah — may be bracketed into two general categories: [the transcendent, or superconscious faculties of the soul that are called] the makkifim, and [the faculties of the soul that are consciously invested in the body, and are called] the pnimi’im. Yechidah and chayah constitute the first category; nefesh, ruach and neshamah constitute the second category. (We know the meaning of the terms makkifim and pnimi’im and the difference between them from their use in describing the faculties of the soul.)

We can now understand why music is the attendant that serves the faculties of delight and will. We can understand, moreover, why a meaningful melody of the kind described above is able to open a gate from the yechidah to the chayah, and from the chayah to the Naran — for to open these gates means to reveal transcendent lights in the conscious faculties of the soul.

When the Tzemach Tzedek spoke of this kind of melody, he had in mind a niggun of a Rebbe — either composed by him or chosen by him.

For melodies are to be found at any one of three levels: (a) there is a niggun that conveys a true and precise message; (b) a niggun that says something, of the kind that the early chassidim had — the repentance-niggun, the meditation-niggun, the niggun of brotherly love, and so on; and (c) a mindless niggun that says nothing and is composed according to no clear principles.

75. A triple bond

A chassid is bound to a Rebbe in three ways, each way being a distinct bond with a distinct level within the Rebbe. When one hears a narrative recounted about one’s Rebbe, since this actually teaches something, one becomes bound to the Rebbe’s faculty of action; when one hears a Torah teaching from one’s Rebbe, one becomes bound to his faculty of speech; and when one sings a niggun of the Rebbe, one becomes bound to his faculty of thought.

In general, the level at which a chassid is thus bound does not exceed the Rebbe’s nefesh, ruach and neshamah. As has been explained, [though,] a niggun of the kind described above opens the gate from the singer’s transcendental, superrational faculties to his indwelling, conscious faculties. It is thus obvious that such a melody sets up a bond at a level higher than that of the Rebbe’s levels of Naran. However, this takes place only if the individual pictures to himself the way in which he heard the melody from his Rebbe, and ponders on his own spiritual disposition at the time. Then, when a chassid sings the above-described kind of melody with a spiritual arousal that springs from within, he becomes bound with the transcendent faculties of his Rebbe’s soul.

The reason that singing can set up such a connection is that melody is made up of movements — and all movement296 gives rise to warmth, which is a vessel for vitality.

76. Spiritual frigidity

“The least among you can revive the dead.”297 This familiar statement can fairly be applied to those men who received their training and guidance as chassidim from the mouth of R. Hillel [of Paritch]. For just as physical death means the withdrawal of vitality, i.e., frigidity, so too, is spiritual death frigidity. It means that one’s davenen is cold, one’s performance of a mitzvah is cold, one’s Torah study is cold; even one’s singing and dancing is cold. Through his training and guidance, R. Hillel created chassidim with such warm hearts that the least of them, quite unsophisticated people, revived the dead: they warmed up their frigid fellow Jews.

We are not talking about people who are frigid in the sense that they do not observe the practices of Yiddishkeit, G‑d forbid. By frigid Jews I mean people who study the Torah and observe the mitzvos: solid, G‑d-fearing folk who give charity and do favors — but they are cold. Whatever they do in the realm of the Torah and its commandments, in charity and in the love of their fellows, is cold and bereft of vitality. And it was frigid people such as these whom R. Hillel’s disciples made ardent.

R. Hillel threw his very life into warming up a man’s heart to Torah and mitzvos, to charity and to the love of a fellow Jew. A man who received his training and guidance as a chassid from R. Hillel had the capacity to infuse warmth into an entire region of ten townships and villages. Exhilarated, their townsfolk sprang into life — in everything that had to do with their Torah and mitzvos, in the way they gave their charity and in the way they loved their fellow Jews.

77. What did Chassidus innovate?

One of the key questions that my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, was asked in Petersburg at the Rabbinical Commission of 1843 was the following: “What was novel about the chassidic movement? — For earlier generations also had their tzaddikim who studied Mussar, and whose Torah scholarship was characterized by vitality.”

He answered as follows: “In Scripture the Torah is referred to as fire, as in the verse, ‘From His right hand [He gave] them a fiery law.’298 Fire emits light and heat. One cannot be without the other, neither heat without light nor light without heat. G‑d has invested fire with a property that makes it prevail and conquer. The first bit of water thrown on a great conflagration in an effort to extinguish it only makes it burn all the harder. And the Torah is comparable to fire: it is hot and luminous, and it overpowers all its opponents.

“Water can be either good or bad. Since the various kinds of water in creation include unwholesome water, good water can also include an admixture that is not good. This admixture certainly does not derive from elements that are not good in the unwholesome water, for there even evil is to be found, evil that ruins its positive aspects.

“In order to make it possible to remove the impurities that render water unusable, and to isolate the undesirable elements that may be present in good water, the Creator invested fire with the capability to boil it. By thus separating the impurities in unusable water fire makes it usable, and by locating and separating the more subtle sediment it makes usable water utterly clean and clear.

“The revealed dimension of the Torah is water. When it is studied for its own good sake, it is beneficial water; when a person studies it for the sake of self-aggrandizement or to enable him to be argumentative, ‘for him it becomes a lethal drug.’299 The teachings of Chassidus are fire. When the divine service in one’s heart is inspired by Chassidus, there is a seething as of meat in a cauldron. It is then that this fire separates the gross dross from the unusable water and the more subtle impurities from the usable water.

“This, then, is the novel accomplishment of the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezritch with their comprehensive chassidic doctrine, and the novel achievement of my grandfather300 with the chassidic teachings of Chabad in particular.”

Halperin later recounted that when the chassid by the name of R. Yisrael Chaikin had finished relaying the above reply from the Tzemach Tzedek, Count Uvarov remained seated, deep in thought. It was apparent that this talk from the mouth of the Rebbe’s messenger had made a mighty impression on him. The young man had spoken with warmth in simple but very clear Russian, and it was evident that he not only understood the subject that he was repeating, but that it was near to his heart.

The Minister then broke the silence: “This is profound religious philosophy.”

78. Faith and self-sacrifice

One may distinguish between an idea, and the way in which it is presented. In the Torah, certain concepts are stated explicitly, while others are understood [in a different way, viz.,] circumstantially. The reason for self-sacrifice, for example, is not mentioned explicitly in the Torah, for Torah is intelligence and reason, and reason does not sanction self-sacrifice. Reason does compel the existence of faith. It argues that one should exert one’s mind to the limit of its capacity, and beyond this point faith steps in. And faith not only warrants self-sacrifice, but it makes it imperative that one sacrifice one’s life for that which one believes with perfect faith.

Our Sages teach that “[Only] by virtue of faith were our forefathers redeemed from Egypt.”301 Faith does not mean just believing, in the sense that people say, “I believe; I’ve got a Jewish heart.” Faith — emunah — means believing in what [mitzvos] one is doing. And through these activities, even though one does not quite know what they are and does not grasp them rationally, the required spiritual consequences result. By putting on tefillin, for example, the four levels of the Divine intellect,302 so to speak, are drawn down [and united with the intellect of man]; and corresponding effects flow from one’s observance of the commandment of eating matzah, and other commandments too. Through this kind of faith were the Jewish People redeemed from Egypt, for while they were in that exile they believed in the redemption and constantly spoke of it.

79. Yaakov Avinu and Moshe Rabbeinu

Narrating the events immediately preceding the Splitting of the Red Sea the Torah writes that “G‑d drove back the sea with a powerful east wind.”303 A little earlier, however, we read, “G‑d said to Moshe…, ‘Extend your hand [over the sea, and divide it].’”304 At first glance these two texts would appear to contradict each other. In truth, however, the sea was split through both agencies. Thus we find in the Zohar that “The east wind305 of Yaakov,”307 and the Splitting of the Sea was accomplished by [the modes of Divine service personified by] both Yaakov and Moshe.

There is a verse [in which Yaakov Avinu speaks of his own crossing of the Jordan River] that says, “For with my rod I crossed [this] Jordan.”308 The Shelah309 notes that numerous Divine Names issue from this verse, and cites the Names that are to be found in the following two verses: “Who is like You among the supernal beings, O G‑d!”310 and “I hope for Your deliverance, O G‑d.”311

There is another verse involving Yaakov [that is likewise interpreted in kabbalistic terms]: “Yaakov took rods of fresh storax (לַח), almond ((לוּז and plane.”312 [Let us now consider each of these terms individually.] The rod recalls a Talmudic phrase that speaks of a dog being accustomed to being struck by a rod.313 The terms לַח (“fresh”) and לוּז (“almond”) signify respectively the Divine attributes of chessed and gevurah. The word לִבְנֶה (“storax” or “white poplar”) signifies the root and source of chessed, namely, Chochmah. And machsof halavan (i.e., the uncovered white layer under the peeled bark314) denotes hiskalelus, the mutual incorporation of the Divine Attributes; this corresponds to the attribute of rachamim (“compassion”), or tiferes.

All these terms signify parallel concepts in the realm of avodah. The rod is a reference to [the teaching in the Zohar that if the body obstructs the penetration of the light of the soul], “It should be beaten.”315 What should be beaten is specifically the Evil Inclination,316 which is the tangible expression317 of evil; the animal soul,318 by contrast, which is only the capacity for desire, ought to be viewed with compassion.

[Up to this point, then, we have considered the mode of Divine service embodied by Yaakov Avinu.]

Moshe Rabbeinu represents daas elyon, whose spiritual perspective ought to shed light on [the earthbound perspective which is called] daas tachton.

Together, both these modes of Divine service bring about the “Splitting of the Red Sea” — the ability to perceive the presence of Divinity in everything.

80. Digging for hidden treasure

In today’s Tanya reading,319 as indicated in HaYom Yom, the [Alter] Rebbe says that every individual [Jew] has a treasure of the fear of Heaven, but it is located deep within him and needs to be revealed — for which reason it is referred to there as a treasure buried in the earth.

This concept is based on a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov.320

Without question, the above search varies with the varying levels of the individuals involved. In the words of Tanya: “There is [the naturally refined soul] which, immediately upon considering [the greatness of G‑d], attains a fear [and dread of Him].... Then there is a soul that is of lowly nature and origin,... and it is unable to discover G‑dliness by contemplation except with difficulty and forceful insistence, especially if it had been defiled by the ‘sin of youth....’ Nevertheless, with difficulty and with forceful effort, [when his thought greatly exerts itself] with vigor and great toil [and intense concentration], immersing [itself in contemplation of] the greatness of G‑d for a long time, there will come to him at least the ‘lower-level fear’ [referred to above].”

This “long time” is to be measured not in time but in quality — just as in the material domain, when a person is thinking about some issue that really matters to him, it makes little difference whether he thinks for a long time or a short time: it is the quality of his thinking that counts. The same applies in the spiritual domain — “That the soul not find it burdensome to carry out this labor” of profound concentration, so that the individual’s bond with his subject becomes vigorous and powerful. In this connection the Alter Rebbe cites the verse, “If you seek it like money, and search for it as for hidden treasures, then you will understand the fear of G‑d.”321 The Alter Rebbe goes on to explain: “Like a person seeking a hidden treasure buried in the depths of the earth, for which he digs with tireless toil, so must one delve with unflagging energy in order to reveal the treasure of the fear of Heaven [which lies buried and concealed in the understanding of the heart of every Jewish individual].”

There are two stages in digging. One first has to remove the loose dirt that has accumulated over the years, covering the object of one’s search; this stage has its own particular tools, such as a shovel or whatever. In the next stage one has to use a separate set of tools to dig into the hard ground underneath — until through hard toil the buried treasure is revealed. The same is true of spiritual excavation. “In order to reveal the treasure of the fear of Heaven” one first has to remove the loose dirt, i.e., one’s longstanding habits. One then has to delve more deeply, which involves extreme exertion, until one uncovers the “treasure of the fear of Heaven” that is hidden “in the understanding of the heart,”322 transcending time. The Alter Rebbe specifies “the understanding of the heart” rather than “the understanding of the brain”323 — because the middos [i.e., the emotive attributes that are based in the heart] are finite, and by saying “hidden in the understanding of the heart” he alludes to something that transcends time.

This will also enable us to understand the wording of the above-quoted phrase, “To discover G‑dliness by contemplation.” This phrase, in a context that discusses a man’s search for the fear of Heaven, recalls the individual who “prepared black pigeons and found white ones, or prepared white pigeons and found black ones.”324

Seen in the above light, however, the phrase is in place, for it refers to that aspect of Elokus in the soul that transcends time; this is the “treasure of the fear of Heaven” — and it is this resource that must be drawn into actual, practical expression in the finite realm of time.

At the Evening Meal Seventh Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

81. Each word, each move

On Yud-Tes Kislev 5663 (1902), my father said that the Alter Rebbe in this world below resembled the Adam HaElyon in the supernal worlds Above: those elements which in the soul of a particular individual are obscured from view, are revealed when in the comprehensive soul325 [of a tzaddik who is spiritually connected to the souls of his contemporaries]. The various faculties that comprise the souls of ordinary individuals do derive ultimately from the Ten Sefiros of Atzilus — but this lineage is obscured from view, whereas in the above-described type of comprehensive soul it is manifest. This is why every movement of the [Alter] Rebbe was the way it was — because it paralleled the dynamics of the World Above.326 Every movement of the [Alter] Rebbe was ordered and precisely directed in conformance with the Kabbalah.

That which my father said of the Alter Rebbe I observed in my father. Every movement was not only ordered, but moreover precisely directed in conformity with the Kabbalah. Furthermore, everything sprang from an inwardly vigorous spirit of utter self-dedication,327 nothing whatever being outwardly discernible.

My father-in-law, the revered R. Avraham,328 once made the following remark about my father to the renowned chassid, R. Asher Grossman [of Nikolayev]: “The very first step he takes in his daily divine service is a step of self-sacrifice. Twenty-five years ago, in 5641 (1881), my uncle the Rebbe Maharash told me: ‘His truth and his self-sacrifice are two pillars of light. The level to which truth and self-sacrifice can bring a person is beyond anyone’s grasp, especially if we are speaking of the truth and self-sacrifice of a comprehensive soul.’ And with that I knew that he [the Rebbe Rashab] would be the successor.”

Whoever was privileged to hear my father saying the morning blessings must certainly have had a thought of repentance; for him that day must have been quite out of the ordinary.

As my father pronounced the blessing over the washing of the hands [in the morning] he used to raise his hands as far as his head, though no higher than his peyos, unlike his custom during the washing of hands before a meal. In fact there were three differences. When my father said the blessing of al netilas yadayim in the morning: (a) his hands were already dried; (b) he raised them as high as his peyos; (c) he held his hands apart. When it came to the same blessing before a meal: (a) he pronounced it as he wrang his hands, after washing them and before drying them; (b) he raised them only as high as his heart; (c) his hands were clasped together.

Whenever my father recited a blessing, not only did one clearly hear its words with all their vocalization fully pronounced, but one heard their meaning too; the very way they were uttered made one understand their meaning. Moreover, one could hear the pauses indicated by the punctuation, which would arouse one to perceive the inner significance of the meaning of the words.

For example, in one of the morning blessings,329 my father would begin: Elokai — “My G‑d,” intoning it as if it were marked with a zakef gadol,330 and then he would pause. He would continue: “The soul that You have set within me is pure,” and again he would pause. He would proceed: “You created it,” and he would pause once more. And as he said these words, one could clearly hear what was meant by the utterance, “My G‑d,” what was meant by “pure,” and what was meant by “You created it.”

82. Maamarim made to measure

Some of the chassidim of my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, were men with a scholarly understanding of Chassidus, men who took their avodah seriously; the majority, however, were ordinary householders,331 and some were [unsophisticated] villagers.332 My grandfather used to refer to some of these villagers as “my ahavah-and-yirah-guys.”333

[Accordingly,] my grandfather used to deliver chassidic discourses in a style that could be understood even by these simple folk, yet within each such maamar there lies such profundity that any amount of explanation leaves still more unexplained. In the middle of delivering a certain maamar on Naso, for example, my grandfather once made a pregnant remark that was picked up by the innermost point of the hearts of his listeners; it shook them up and aroused them inwardly. The remark was as follows: “People complain that they are bothered by extraneous thoughts in the course of their prayer and their Torah study. People should realize: What is the point of the ‘many thoughts in the heart of man,’334 when in the final analysis ‘it is the counsel of G‑d that endures’?”335

This maamar, of medium length, has been handed down to us in two versions, one by my father and one by a chassid called R. Yaakov Mordechai. My father’s gives the wording of the original text, unexplained; R. Yaakov Mordechai’s version incorporates a few explanatory notes. I heard the maamar repeated by two chassidim renowned both as maskilim and ovdim — the late R. Ze’ev Dov Kozhevnikov and the late R. David Zvi Chein, [Radatz]. Both added explanatory material to the original maamar, whose every word served them as a life-giving wellspring. But when I heard its basic content as included by my father in one of his maamarim, I understood that all the lengthy expositions of the above two learned chassidim were a mere summary of the full richness hidden in that maamar.

My grandfather’s chassidim, irrespective of whether they were maskilim and ovdim or businessmen and villagers, were manifestly bound to him in a way that was somehow different to the bond that characterized the chassidim of his father, the Tzemach Tzedek, or the chassidim of his brothers.336

All of my grandfather’s chassidim counted the very words that they heard from his mouth, regardless of whether they were at a level at which they could grasp a maamar; those who were not at such a level used to repeat several words of whatever maamar they heard. In the winter of 5652 (1892) I heard a closely-argued discussion of one of my grandfather’s maamarim between two scholarly chassidim, the late R. Shneur Zalman Zlatopolski and the late R. Yehudah Leib Hoffman, the Kabbalist. They had heard that maamar on the Shabbos of Parshas Toldos in the year 5637 (1876), some fifteen years earlier. Yet they both spoke so excitedly (“This is what the Rebbe meant!” “No, no; this is what the Rebbe meant!”), each citing evidence for his interpretation, and the maamar was so fresh and so very much alive in their minds, that you would think they had just heard it that very day.

83. The pace of prayer, the peace of prayer

With the chassidim of the Alter Rebbe and the Mitteler Rebbe, and to a degree with the chassidim of my great-grandfather (the Tzemach Tzedek) and my grandfather (the Rebbe Maharash), even the most pedestrian of pedestrian weekdays337 was a time for a fine, lively davenen that welled from a responsive heart.338 On Shabbos especially, people used to focus on their davenen, each according to his standing. Indeed, some of the rank-and-file chassidim who themselves prayed with the congregation339 — and on Shabbos communal prayers were conducted at a more leisurely pace than during the week — used to stay on to listen to the chassidim of stature at their [measured and meditative] prayers.

During the first ten years of my father’s leadership,340 5643-5652 (1883-1892), when he was not out of town he prayed in the shul, davenen at length on weekdays too. Nevertheless, the davenen of the average chassid of that time was at no extraordinary level of avodah. The chassidim who came to Lubavitch would listen with relish to the maamarim [that my father delivered] and would review them industriously, but the avodah of prayer was little cultivated, becoming prominent only from the year 5653 (1893). Indeed, only from the year 5660 (1899) was it nurtured into full flower as “the service of the heart” — when my father first issued his Kuntreis HaTefillah341 (“A Treatise on Prayer”).342

84. A Rebbe at work

In each of the generations of our forebears, the Rebbe of the time had his own approach to receiving chassidim at yechidus.

My grandfather (the Rebbe Maharash) used to say that the main difficulty with yechidus is the constant “dressing and undressing” — apart from the fact that in order to receive people at yechidus one needs to have Divine inspiration343 at least of the kind of which one is unaware.

Divine inspiration can assume either of two forms: (a) a form in which one knows and feels that it is ruach hakodesh, this being experienced at any of many possible levels; (b) a form in which the inspiration is neither known nor felt. It is at least this level of ruach hakodesh that one has to have in order to give answers at yechidus.

In addition, clothing oneself in order to momentarily become the person whom one is facing, disrobing in order to no longer be that person, and then clothing oneself in the next person, is an exertion of the soul.

The approach of my grandfather (the Rebbe Maharash) to yechidus was different from that of my great-grandfather (the Tzemach Tzedek). As soon as he read the note that was handed to him, my grandfather would reply with a piece of advice and a blessing, as well as a few chosen words that directed his listener as to how to organize his endeavors in avodah344 and refine his character.345

For every one of his chassidim, no matter how mundane he was, my grandfather had a brief teaching to offer him at yechidus. And that inspirational vort that the chassid heard served him throughout his lifetime as a pillar of fire.

85. To envy an ignoramus

I once knew a man346 called R. Pesach who was a chassid of my grandfather. His father, R. Yisrael, was a storekeeper in Hlusk, and a chassid of my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek.

This R. Pesach was certainly no Torah scholar, nor for that matter was he schooled in worldly matters, but when he married into a family from Homil347 he made a comfortable living by buying various kinds of merchandise there and selling it on commission to the storekeepers in the hamlets round about.

Just before Rosh HaShanah of the year 5627 (1866)348 he joined a group of chassidim which was led by a chassid of renown by the name of R. Mordechai Yoel, and together they made the journey to Lubavitch in order to spend the Days of Awe with my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash. When his turn came for yechidus, he handed the Rebbe a kvitl in which he mentioned that he made his livelihood by driving his wagon from town to town.

The Rebbe blessed him warmly and said: “You can always fulfill the words of the prophet, ‘Raise your eyes heavenward [and behold Who created these].’”349 And then he added: “Shema (שְׁמַע) is Yisrael.”

R. Pesach went straight from the Rebbe’s study to find R. Mordechai Yoel, and asked him to explain what the Rebbe meant.

“Every synagogue,” began R. Mordechai Yoel, “is built with large windows:350 not only to admit light, but also to enable people to look out at the sky. For the heavens, we read, are reminiscent of the Throne of Glory,351 and looking skyward inspires a man with the awe of Heaven.352 And this is what the Rebbe told you. Since you spend much of your time on the road, and see the sky not only when you are seated in shul, you are thus able at all times to fulfill the instruction of the prophet, ‘Raise your eyes heavenward, and behold Who created these.’ Now the word שְׁמַע is made up of the initial letters of the first three words of this verse, and when a person says the Shema with every fiber of his being, he is elevated thereby to the level of Yisrael.”

R. Mordechai Yoel went on to distinguish between the significance of the name Yaakov and the name Yisrael.353 [For Yaakov denotes a Jew when he is at the stage at which his service of G‑d is that of a servant, motivated by awe; the name Yisrael is reserved for a person who serves like a son, for the Jew who has reached the stage at which his service is prompted as well by his love of the Creator.]

“And that,” R. Mordechai Yoel concluded, “is what the Rebbe meant when he said ‘Shema is Yisrael’: through experiencing Shema in the sense of ‘raising your eyes heavenward,’ one can become worthy of being called a Yisrael.”

R. Pesach used to visit Lubavitch every two or three years, but I met him there for the first time354 on the eve of Rosh HaShanah 5652 (1891). As we walked together to the shul at the Ohel,355 he told me in detail all about that first yechidus that he had had with my grandfather on the fourth of Tishrei, 5627 (1866), between Minchah and Maariv.

He concluded with these words: “When R. Mordechai Yoel explained what the Rebbe had told me I felt my heart lighting up, and from then on I yearned to understand things. My neighbor, a chassid whom we knew as Hirschel the Watchmaker, taught me every so often, so that within a few years I was able to study several lines for myself out of Tanya, Torah Or or Likkutei Torah. The Rebbe’s words at yechidus put me on my feet!”

I was then too young to understand — and certainly to feel — his relived experience as he recalled that meeting, but I was richly aware of his liveliness, his deep-seated pleasure. Their intensity, after the passage of no less than twenty-five years, amazed me.

Now, as I leaf through the notes that I recorded of incidents that took place fifty-two years ago, including the notes of that erev Rosh HaShanah, I clearly recall (thank G‑d) the image of the shul at the Ohel, and clearly recall seeing all the people who were there at the time, both those whose names I knew and those whose names I did not know.

As the years rolled by R. Pesach became a rich man and he moved to Lodz, where he dealt in manufactured goods. Then in 5688 (1928), when he was about ninety years old, he again told me what he had heard from the mouth of my grandfather at his first yechidus — and still with the same relived delight, as if this encounter had taken place the day before.

This time he concluded his recollection as follows: “From the time I stopped working on commission and first set out to try my own fortune on the road, I have always sought lodgings with large windows, and I always take a seat near a window, so that I will always be able to fulfill those words: ‘Raise your eyes heavenward.’ Over sixty-two years have now passed since I was privileged to hear from the Rebbe, your grandfather, that Shema is Yisrael. Throughout all those years, whenever I have said Shema Yisrael, at whatever point in the prayers — whether it be in the daily reading, or while the sefer Torah is being taken out of the Holy Ark, or during the responses of Kedushah, or in the additions to the Tachanun prayer on Monday and Thursday mornings, or during the climax of Yom Kippur at the conclusion of the Ne’ilah service — I have always recalled the Rebbe’s words, that Shema is Yisrael.

“One request I have yet to the Almighty: When the time comes for me to return to Him the soul which He has entrusted in my keeping, and I am about to breathe Shema Yisrael for the very last time, I pray that He grant me a clear mind, so that then too I will be able to recall those words the Rebbe told me — Shema is Yisrael!”

Let me confess, unabashed, that gazing upon that homespun peddler from Homil, R. Pesach the son of R. Yisrael — beholding the hoary dignity of his countenance, his gray-white beard, his sheer refinement, his artless attachment to the Rebbe’s teaching — I envied him.

A man ought to yearn to be blessed by an innocent individual such as this, his ignorance notwithstanding, for without a doubt a blessing from his mouth is highly esteemed in the worlds Above.

And such an individual was one of the ordinary chassidim of my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash.

86. The missing ingredient

Among the prominent chassidim who had formed a close bond with my grandfather was R. Yisrael DovBer, one of the most proficient teachers in Velizh. He had a mellow understanding both of the revealed levels of the Torah and of Chassidus, and engaged earnestly in the avodah of davenen. As a young man he had twice visited my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek.

From Rosh HaShanah of the year 5627 (1866)356 he visited my grandfather in Lubavitch every year, and was admitted to yechidus on each occasion. In 5662 (1902) he told me that at one such yechidus he had handed the Rebbe a note that said that though he toiled until he thoroughly grasped a concept in Chassidus, he did so without relish.

My grandfather responded: “Toil is no match for an insensitive mind;357 what you need is melody in your prayers.”

This encounter took place in 5638 (1878).

R. Yisrael DovBer recalled: “Your grandfather’s reply made me quite despondent. When a man has been toiling away at his avodah for twelve years, intellectual insensitivity is no great ornament. So, thoroughly downhearted, after the repetition of the maamarim of Rosh HaShanah I told the present Rebbe, your father,358 of my yechidus.

“Your father replied: ‘If one’s mind is not exhilarated by a concept, then no matter how thoroughly comprehensible that concept may be, this indicates that it was not truly grasped, and that the absence of exhilaration is due to one’s intellectual insensitivity.’ Your father went on to explain at length the Rebbe’s advice (‘What you need is melody in your prayers’), and said that this teaching constituted the individualized help that a Rebbe gives his chassid.”

R. Yisrael Dovber concluded his reminiscence: “And that’s exactly what happened. I became a new man. After davenen I would experience an intense yearning to study and master some concept in Chassidus; then, having studied and mastered that concept, I would feel a powerful desire to daven.”

87. A promise is a promise

In the province of Vitebsk there was a township called Batchaikov which, together with its many surrounding villages and forests, was the inherited property of a certain nobleman. In addition to his own castle, there were numerous buildings for his employees and for the superintendents who managed his vast estate, and a Catholic church with its priest and his servants.

The squire himself was a kindly man, and provided a livelihood for the Jews of the region. If they were poor he exempted them from paying their land tax, and did not charge a pasture fee for the cows and goats of the local rav, the shochet, the chazzanim and the schoolteachers. In fact almost all of the Jews of the township drew the greater part of their livelihood from this noble’s estate.

Being an ailing man and often seriously ill, he used to visit the well-known Dr. Heibenthal in Vitebsk. In later years, as he grew weaker with age, he visited the renowned Dr. Berthenson.

Old and frail, he entrusted the administration of his entire estate to his chief manager, an anti-Semite. Inspired by a newly-appointed priest with similar prejudices, this chief manager began to displace the local Jews; the paupers were forced to pay for their holdings; the rav and his colleagues were charged for their pasture; and in the course of about two years the Jews at large were impoverished.

Now most of these people were quiet folk who were connected with my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash. They would visit Lubavitch for a Yom-Tov or a Shabbos, listen to a maamar, be received by the Rebbe at yechidus, request a blessing for children, for health and for their daily sustenance — and then make the journey home, confident that the Almighty would no doubt show them compassion. But as to the growing threat to their livelihood, or the anti-Semitic priest and chief manager, — such matters none of them made bold to mention..

There were a few Jewish families that had maintained commercial contacts with this estate for a couple of generations. To one of these families belonged a certain R. Shmuel the son of R. Aizik Monye, or, as he was called more familiarly, Mulye Aizik’s. He was a respected and well-to-do chassid of my grandfather, with a reputation throughout the region as an honest, charitable and hospitable businessman. In addition he was moderately learned, and was able to appreciate a chassidic teaching.

He visited Lubavitch for Shavuos in the year 5640 (1880), and in answer to my grandfather’s question at yechidus, he explained the reasons for the deteriorating conditions under which his anxious townsmen were living.

“I know,” said my grandfather. “Professor Berthenson told me that your squire’s life is in danger.”

And my grandfather proceeded to admonish R. Shmuel for the fact that throughout this whole period no one had told him about the changes in policy on the estate.

R. Shmuel Batchaikover (as he was known in Lubavitch) continued his story: “Your grandfather fell deep into thought for quite some time, and then, turning to me, he said, ‘Travel home. The very first time you meet the squire, tell him in my name that I know that he is critically ill and the doctors have despaired of saving his life; let him help out the Jews of Batchaikov and the surrounding villagers who operate the inns and tar works on his estate, and for every such Jewish family that he helps, G‑d will give him a month of life and health.’

A couple of days after his return home R. Shmuel visited the estate in the hope of seeing the squire, but that was out of the question: no one was allowed to approach him. Since it was a pleasant summer’s day the doctor ordered that the carriage be prepared, so that his aged patient could be taken, lying down, for a drive in the pine forest. R. Shmuel stood aside and watched that broken old frame being helped into the carriage, and his heart was pained.

At that moment the squire caught sight of him, and invited him to climb up into the carriage. He knew that R. Shmuel had a connection with the Rebbe. As for R. Shmuel, no sooner had he taken his seat than he passed on the Rebbe’s message. He was immediately asked to draw up and submit a confidential list of all the Jewish families in Batchaikov that could earn a living from the estate, and also to visit, personally or by proxy, all the villages, inns, forests, rivers and tar works that belonged to the squire and that could provide employment. And so it was that over a hundred and sixty families in the town and a few dozen families in the surrounding villages were once again enabled to earn their living respectably — and the squire recovered.

Needless to say, R. Shmuel became a highly respected figure around the estate, and from 5641 (1880) onward, he would send my grandfather a fine lulav and hadassim that had grown in the squire’s garden.

I heard this whole episode359 from the mouth of R. Shmuel when he came to Lubavitch at the end of the month of Av in the year 5654 (1894), while my father was visiting the Kherson colonies.

When he had finished telling it to my teacher the Rashbatz, R. Chanoch Hendel and myself, he concluded with these words: “The squire is an exceedingly old man, and throughout the fourteen years that have elapsed since that summer he has not once been ill. Last week, however, he felt very weak. He called for me and asked me to set out for Lubavitch in order to leave a message to this effect at the resting place of the Rebbe.360 For according to his reckoning of months and families, he was still owed a year and seven months of life — so let the Rebbe keep his promise!”

88. The Rebbe Maharash envies R. Elye

Whether intellectually or scholastically, R. Elye Abeler was a simple man.

Once at yechidus, my grandfather the Rebbe Maharash said to him: “Elye, I envy you! You go to market and meet all kinds of people. Then, in the middle of a deal with a friend, you share with him a glimmer of Torah light,361 such as a teaching out of Ein Yaakov, and encourage him to spend more time studying nigleh or Chassidus. This arouses great joy up Above, and G‑d pays the brokerage in blessings of children, health and a livelihood. And the bigger the market, the more work you have, and the bigger the earnings.”

Decades elapsed before R. Elye repeated this to me. Yet his arms and legs trembled as he spoke; he was all aflame, as if he had heard the Rebbe’s words that very day.

89. The eloquence of a niggun

In the early years of the Alter Rebbe’s leadership, his chassidic teachings were succinct in the extreme.

On one occasion, for example, he took as his text a statement from the Mishnah: Kol baalei hashir yotz’in beshir venimshachin beshir.362 [The context defines the restrictions applying to animals on Shabbos — under what circumstances may they move freely and be led from a private domain to the public domain.] This particular sentence says: “All animals bearing a chain or ring (שיר) may go out wearing their chain and may be led along by it.” [Reading this same text on a mystical level,] the Alter Rebbe gave the following interpretation: “All the masters of song (בַּעֲלֵי הַשִּׁיר) — that is, the angels and souls [that inhabit the World Above] — go out in song and are drawn in song, that is, they may be either elevated, or drawn down [into This World], through [the outpouring of a worshiper’s soul in] melody.”363

A chassid passing through Shklov had himself seen with what holy rapture the Alter Rebbe had delivered this thought, and he now of course repeated it to the few chassidim who were then living there. They were most distressed, in anticipation of the attack which the local misnagdim would no doubt make on this unconventional interpretation of a straightforward legal statement which, as everyone knew, dealt with animals. And in a short time their anxiety proved to be well founded: that teaching released a veritable tempest among the scholars of Shklov and its environs.

In due course the Alter Rebbe had occasion to pass through Shklov, and since the local scholars had by now recognized that he was a luminary in the Torah world, many of them visited him and asked him various learned questions that had engaged their attention. He however offered no answers. They therefore decided to convene a gathering of scholars in the communal house of study that was known locally as “the cold beis midrash.” At this forum he would be asked to deliver a learned dissertation, and to answer all the questions that had been put to him. The Alter Rebbe accepted the invitation.

Ascending the steps to the lectern at which the Torah is read, he said: “Shall I deliver a discourse and answer your questions? Instead, I shall sing you a melody. For there is a mishnah which says: Kol baalei hashir… — that is, souls and angels [from the World Above] may be both elevated and drawn down [into This World] through the singing of a melody.”

With this he began to sing a haunting melody, and in it the local scholars heard the intense yearning of a lofty soul. A sweet stillness stole into the heart of every man there; deep in thought, they did not sense for a while where they were. As they listened, the thorny questions and problems that had brought them there all found their sure answers. With his melody lending voice to his dveikus, he refreshed their minds from the wellsprings of wisdom, unlocking their intellectual tools. He raised them aloft to a level at which their problems all vanished.364

This was in 5531 (1771), at a time at which the brilliant scholar known as R. Yosef Kol-Bo365 was already close to the Alter Rebbe, though not yet his chassid. He was still standing at the crossroads, and his decision was weightily affected by the above episode involving the melody, which the chassidim of Shklov called “the niggun of the Giving of the Torah.”366

R. Yosef had spent months of fatiguing exertion in an attempt to solve four near-insoluble problems that not even the sages of Vilna and Slutzk could master. But now, as he listened to the harmony of a soul searching and cleaving to its Source, all four knotty problems melted peacefully.

Years later, as he recounted this episode to a celebrated fellow chassid named R. Avraham Sheines, he said: “When those four problems resolved themselves in my mind, I felt like a small child. The ‘niggun of the Giving of the Torah’ helped me far along the way to becoming a chassid. I told myself at the time: ‘If up there at the bimah the maggid from Liozna does so well in opening minds to the Torah, then at the amud it is certain that he does well in opening hearts to the service of G‑d through prayer.”

In 5564 (1804), R. Avraham Sheines passed on the narrative to my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, whom it served as the basis for a maamar. This discourse, entitled Lehavin inyan te’amim, nekudos, tagin, osiyos, sets out at length the mystical significance of the letters of the Holy Tongue. It explains there that the letters are consummated by their tagin, the miniscule “crowns” that adorn certain letters in the sefer Torah; the letters attain clarity by means of the nekudos, the vocalization points that make the meaning of the consonants explicit by supplying the vowels; and the te’amim, the cantillation symbols [that adorn the printed text of the Torah and indicate how the verses should be chanted], reveal and elicit the primal germ of potential intellect and draw it down into the revealed levels of the intellect.

At the Midday Meal Last Day of Pesach 5703 (1943)

90. Modes of revelation

Letters [of the alphabet of the Holy Tongue, being the articulating components of language] are revelations. The connection between the word אוֹת (“letter”) and revelation is hinted at in the phrase, אָתָא בֹּקֶר — “The morning comes,”367 i.e., the revelation of morning368 has come. Morning is preceded by darkness, and even according to the view369 that darkness is not only the absence of light but a created entity in its own right, darkness is still obscurity; morning, by contrast, means light, which is revelation, as in the above-quoted phrase, אָתָא בֹּקֶר, which suggests that letters signify revelation.

Seen more profoundly and more precisely, letters should be understood not as “revelations” but as “revealers”: they bring about revelation, as in the maxim, Osiyos machkimos — “Letters make one wise.”370 In fact this maxim is appropriate here only at a superficial level, for in fact saying that letters make one wise signifies a higher function than saying that they are “revealers.”

To be more explicit:371 The very essence372 of letters lies in the fact that they are instruments of revelation; this essence governs the extent of the revelation. When we are speaking of the revelation that letters effect (i.e., when we are speaking of their innermost quintessence373), it is appropriate to describe them as “making one wise.” Sometimes, however, letters obscure, as may be seen by comparing the letters used in a parable to those used in a riddle. A parable makes its analogue more distinct than it was, spelling out its rationale and clarifying its inner content. The letters that constitute a riddle, by contrast, serve to obscure [their ultimate message]. Yet while they [initially] lock out all possibility of revelation, this very fact retains, strengthens and preserves the complete and ultimate revelation of their content.

Let us delve a little more deeply into the phrase, אָתָא בֹּקֶר. This means not only that letters reveal, but that revelation is — letters. That is to say, that whenever any material or spiritual entity is in a manifest state, that manifestation may be called “letters.” Take, for example, the verse, וְאָתָה מֵרִבְבוֹת קֹדֶשׁ — “And He came from holy multitudes.”374 This means that the revelation that came from the holy [celestial] multitudes may be called “letters.”

In all, then, there are four categories of letters: (a) letters that are revelations; (b) letters that “make wise”; (c) letters in the sense that “revelation is letters”; and (d) letters whose very circumscription [ultimately] reveals that which is hidden.

These four categories of letters correspond to the four “attendants” (mesharsim) explained above:375 (a) action, (b) speech, (c) thought, and (d) melody. The “letters” of action are prominent and palpable, visible by all. The “letters” of speech correspond to the letters that reveal and the letters that “make wise.” The “letters” of thought are of the kind of which it may be said that “revelation is letters.” For Chassidus explains three levels within thought:376 the action within thought, the speech within thought, and the thought within thought.

As to the “letters” of [inspirational] melody, these are letters of ascent: they raise a man aloft, beyond his present rung; utterly absorbing him within themselves, they uncover that which is hidden in the innermost and most exalted strata of his soul, so that he is temporarily not [merely] that which is revealed to the eye; at this point he is part of his soul. Through the “letters” of melody he is lifted up and drawn into the sublime altitudes of the palaces of light and revelation, where the rays of light dispel for a time whatever in him is undesirable.377 The hidden kernel of untarnished good is awakened within him. For a space, Form dominates Matter.378

In this we perceive how the “letters” of melody surpass the “letters” of even the highest level of thought, viz., “the thought within thought,” which is thought as exercised in the intellect.379

The foregoing discussion will also enable us to understand more clearly and more profoundly the above-quoted answer380 which my grandfather, the Rebbe Maharash, gave at yechidus to R. Yisrael Dov: “Toil” — chiefly the exertion of thought in the intellect — “is no match for an insensitive mind; what you need is melody in your prayers.” For melody is the “attendant” of the spiritual faculties of delight and will,381 and its “letters” bring to light one’s hidden depths, which in every Jew are good throughout.

91. Inspiration and application

The Alter Rebbe expected of chassidim that they engage in avodas halev, “the [divine] service of the heart”; the Mitteler Rebbe expected of chassidim that they engage in avodas hamo’ach, “the [divine] service of the brain.” Though neither approach can exist without the other, the difference between them is a difference of emphasis. As to the former kind of avodah, it takes place in the heart and with the heart.

The Alter Rebbe’s and the Mitteler Rebbe’s expectations or demands — and the same is true of the spiritual tasks set by the Rebbeim of the following generations — are not what their bald definition would call to mind: when a Rebbe expresses an expectation, this in itself provides support in one’s practical avodah.

Question: “What is meant by avodah that takes place ‘in the heart and with the heart’?”

Reply: “So long as the spiritual emotions are excited382 they have no practical outcome; when they do have their effect on one’s actual avodah, the spiritual emotions are no longer in a state of excitation. This, however, is true only of the outward levels of the heart; more inwardly, both can coexist — both the spiritual excitation and the practical avodah that it inspires.”

92. To plumb the depths of a niggun

We said earlier383 that a melody that conveys a consciously directed message — a niggun mechuvan — is one either composed by a Rebbe or chosen by him, whether used specifically in his davenen on weekdays or on Shabbos or Yom-Tov, or whether in a general way sung by him or sung at his request.

In order to understand the inner content of such a niggun one needs to study the Chassidus expounded by that Rebbe. One can then become enveloped by the melody, and can permit oneself to hope that its “letters” will succeed in their function of dispelling undesirable traits and bringing hidden spiritual depths to light. If, however, one does not study Chassidus, there is no point in even hoping that the “letters” of music will achieve anything — except that a niggun of spiritual arousal or of teshuvah can (and does) have an effect on anyone and at any time.

93. The Alter Rebbe’s Niggun

Chassidic tradition includes an explanatory commentary on a melody — on the Niggun of Four Themes384 composed by the Alter Rebbe.385 Unlike a chassidisher farbrengen, this commentary is a Torah teaching in itself. A farbrengen can arouse one’s heart for avodah and open one’s mind to Torah, whereas the explanation to the above melody is itself a Torah teaching.

94. The Niggun of the Mitteler Rebbe’s Choir

The four themes that comprise the Niggun of the Mitteler Rebbe’s Choir386 correspond to the four stages in the spiritual labors of the Divine soul, whose task it is to refine the animal soul — displacing the evil within it and utilizing the good within it.

The four stages are as follows: (a) the essence of avodah, i.e., the utter dedication with which one initially devotes himself to the task of sifting and refining materiality;387 (b) apprehending the intellectual richness of a concept involving Divinity, savoring the sweetness of Divinity, and realizing that the animal soul’s material interests oppose this; (c) deeply contemplating the undesirability of materiality, and encircling the animal soul;388 and (d) sensing that “all roads are presumed to be dangerous,”389 so that fear strikes the servant of G‑d who is engaged in the sifting and refining of the animal soul, and he relies upon help from Above.

We shall now sing, pensively, the Song of the Mitteler Rebbe’s Choir. And as we sing, we shall hear how its four themes lend a voice to the above four stages in the spiritual labors of the divine soul, as it sifts and refines the animal soul.

The first theme speaks of the prelude to one’s avodah. Even if the subject one is studying is not lengthy, but only four or five lines long, or fifteen minutes long when spoken, or five minutes long in thought, it needs to be approached with utter self-dedication, so that it will be absorbed in all its ramifications. If one encounters something on the physical plane that really matters in one’s life, it is immaterial whether dealing with it takes seventeen hours or seventeen minutes. In exactly the same way ought a man feel bound to the subject in Chassidus that he studies as a preparation for prayer.

The second theme describes how one senses that Divinity is something good — yet this awareness does not suffice to expel the animal soul: one needs avodah as well, and “the time of prayer is the time of battle.”390 One has to realize that the animal soul, true to its name, is a wild animal that tries to clamber up impossible walls. It requires avodah if one is to expel the undesirable traits of the animal soul, and to acquire the good that is to be found among its faculties, such as vigor and resoluteness, harnessing them for the study of Torah, for the performance of mitzvos, and for prayer, the “service of the heart.”391

The third theme of the melody portrays the encirclement of the animal soul. The Tzemach Tzedek calls this “attacking,”392 in the spirit of the lesson in divine service that the Alter Rebbe was taught by [R. Avraham] “the Malach” (“the Angel”), the son of the Maggid of Mezritch. R. Avraham observed that in the Seven Years’ War,393 the strategy that secured victory was the encirclement of the enemy on three flanks. In the analogue, this means that one ought to [simultaneously] deploy all three soul faculties — Chessed, Gevurah and Tiferes394 — in attacking one particular undesirable character trait. This three-pronged offensive on the animal soul should be executed in a spirit of hispaalus; i.e., it should be prompted by the excitation of the divine soul’s emotive attributes. The animal soul is vulnerable to hispaalus because its own spiritual source is the residue of those [emotively expressive] angels that are called ofanim.395

The fourth theme says, “I hope, G‑d, for Your salvation.”396 Since the divine soul must deal with the animal soul, confronting it and (more particularly) garbing itself in the very materiality which it is obliged to sift and refine, it could conceivably be itself influenced by the object of its endeavors. To counter this, one needs to activate one’s resources of trust in G‑d. And this is expressed — in a vigorous spirit of chassidic joy — by the fourth theme of the above niggun.

95. Mere existence vs. vitality

In today’s reading of Tanya,397 as set out in HaYom Yom, the Alter Rebbe begins with the words, “And although He has no dmus haguf, no bodily likeness....” One would surely have expected him to write, “And although He has no guf, no body....”398 The distinction is intentional, however, because guf (“body”) refers to the body itself and the vitality that animates it, whereas dmus haguf (lit., “image of the body”) refers to the illumination of the soul within the body.

Existence (kiyum) and vitality (chayus) are two distinct concepts, as we see exemplified in different kinds of people: there are people who are at the level of existence, and others who are at the level of vitality. A full-time Torah scholar399 embodies the concept of vitality; a businessman’s life is existence. Whenever the businessman enters the House of Study he experiences vitality; his business is merely his existence.

The same two concepts may be distinguished in the vegetable kingdom400 too. While attached to its tree at any time through the year, an esrog merely exists; when a blessing is pronounced over it, thereby elevating its entire species, it attains vitality. So too in the body. The existence of the body is the body itself, while the “image of the body” is either the illumination of the soul, or the sap within the body, as the marrow is the sap of the bones. And just as in the body itself there are distinctions of level (such as between the head, respiratory organs, torso and feet), and moreover distinctions between the tissue of (say) the heart and the rest of the body, so too are there distinctions [of level and of substance] within the illumination of the soul in the body.

With the above-quoted phrase, “And although He has no bodily likeness...,” the Alter Rebbe sets out a paradox401 whose two opposing concepts fortify each other. A prologue to a prologue to grasping this intellectually may be afforded by an analogy drawn from the various categories of mixture through the agency of fire, [in the laws pertaining to the kashrus of food].

Three kinds of mixture are distinguished in this context: (a) a mixture of two dry components:402 although the distinct identity of each is not as discernible as before they were mixed, each particle yet retains its previous existence (metzius); (b) a mixture of two fluid components:403 though the previous existence (metzius) of each is not discernible, its essence (mahus) remains intact; (c) a mixture through frying over a fire,404 whereby (for example) the opposing flavors of radishes and of honey coalesce so intimately that the palate tastes405 the intense sweetness of the radish and the intense pungency of the honey. It is fire that effects this mixture, to the point that sweetness proceeds from pungency406 and pungency from sweetness.

96. Believers, descendants of believers

The same passage in Tanya goes on to say: “For the human soul, even the rational and divine soul, is affected by the events which transpire with the body.” With this the Alter Rebbe gives us a rich understanding of what is not the case [with relation to G‑d].

A little later the Alter Rebbe tells us what a Jew is, in the following words: “However, all Jews are ‘believers, descendants of believers,’407 without any speculation of mortal intellect whatever, and they declare, ‘You were [the same]408 before the world was created,’ and so forth, as has been explained above in ch. 20.”

Having just championed the cause of faith, the Alter Rebbe here surprises us by referring us to ch. 20, which offers various explanations of the concept of G‑d’s Unity. By so doing he is highlighting the need for both modes of apprehension — intellectual understanding, as far as it will reach, and faith.

97. Napoleon tackles the Czar

When the [Alter] Rebbe, fleeing the Napoleonic invasion, left Liadi409 on the eve of Shabbos Mevarchim Elul 5572 (1812), he asked to be told with which marching song the French forces crossed the Prussian border into Russia.

When it was duly sung in his presence he said that it was a song of victory. He then fell into a state of deep rapture, and said: “Ultimately, we shall be able to say that ‘our side won.’”410

98. Mashiach’s Seudah

The Baal Shem Tov411 used to call the [third] meal of the Last Day of Pesach — “the festive meal of Mashiach.”412