Chapter 14

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

In the terminology of Chassidus, “fathers” signifies the intellectual perception of G‑dliness;1 “the bread of affliction” alludes to exile. Hence, [following the Hebrew word order,] “the bread of affliction” has eaten the “fathers’’: our exile2 has consumed the intellectual perception of G‑dliness.

The essence of avodah is intellectual endeavor [leading to] discernment,3 and this is most needed in exile. For in the times of the Beis HaMikdash this took place as the result of Divine initiative. [To paraphase the words of our Sages,] כְּשֵׁם שֶׁבָּא לְהֵרָאוֹת, כַּךְ בָּא לִרְאוֹת – “Just as [each pilgrim] came [to Jerusalem at the festivals] to be seen, so too did he come in order to see.”4 And as a result of what he saw there5 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 comprehension6 and spiritual sense-perception7 of G‑dliness.

There are two preludes to the service of the Creator: (a) self-subordination to the yoke of Heaven;8 (b) spiritual sense-perception that results from comprehension.

There are three levels of middos: middos that are intellectually generated; middos of spiritual sense-perception;9 and innate middos. In addition there is the root of the middos, which is one’s intrinsic will.10 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, or middos,11because 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 heart12 is an indication that one’s intellectual perception is unsatisfactory.

Mental toil is a resurrection of the dead.13 Nothing could be colder than a corpse, and intellectual activity is by nature cold. Accordingly, since intellectual activity is deliberate, settled and orderly, it 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.

(a) In Lubavitch there lived a certain individual called Eliezer Baruch’s, better known as Lozhe. Lozhe had fought in the Russo-Turkish War14 at Plevna. When he was asked, “Lozhe, what did you do in the war?” he would reply: “The mighty General Skobeliov15 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.

(b) In the course of the time that our whole family lived in Wurzburg16 – 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 Tzion party had organized riots17 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, viz., the thirty-eighth maamar, beginning אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים – “These are the words ..., “until Parshas Vayeira of 5667, viz., the forty-eighth maamar, beginning וַה' אָמַר הַמְכַסֶה אֲנִי – “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 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 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 (הֵא לַחְמָא עַנְיָא) consumes intellectual perception (דִי אֲכָלוּ אַבְהָתָנָא), blocking people’s understanding so that “they [do] not listen to Moshe.”18 People are not sensitive to the Moshe that is in everyone’s possession19 – that is, to the knowledge of G‑dliness that every Jew has – because of the “shortness of breath”18 caused by the enslavement of the violently bitter exile.

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

30. 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. 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 explains20 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. 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: הָבֵן בְּחָכְמָה וַחֲכַם בְּבִינָה – lit., “Understand (gain Binah)through wisdom (Chochmah), and become wise21 (gain Chochmah)through understanding (Binah).”

To apply this to our subject: The phrase הָבֵן בְּחָכְמָה 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 וַחֲכַם בְּבִינָה 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,22 and the [amplified] understanding23 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,”24 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 intellectual discernment, albeit to a lesser degree. In the main it is acquired by studying the teachings of Chassidus.25Even if they be 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.26

32. הַשַּׁתָּאהָכָא, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּאַרְעָא דְיִשְׂרָאֵל; הַשַּׁתָּא עַבְדִּין, לְשָׁנָה הַבָּאָה בְּנֵי חוֹרִין – “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.27

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 slaves, both materially and spiritually. Materially, people are enslaved; spiritually, we are obliged to engage in the servile labor28 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. 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 world29 and gave the Torah.30 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.”31 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 ...,32 so it is obvious that [a painful process will be needed for]33 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 heal34 Israel – simultaneously.

34. In the wake of yesterday’s exposition35 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 וְיֵכול (lit., “Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat”).

This refers to one who is in need of an or pnimi, indwelling spiritual illumination.

כָּל דִּצְרִיךְ יֵיתֵי וְיִפְסַח (lit., “Whoever is needy, let him come and celebrate Pesach”).

This refers to one who is in need of an or makkif, transcendent spiritual illlumination.

35. לְפַרְעֹה בְּמִצְרָיִם – “[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. “Pharaoh” is connected with the phrase, דְבֵיהּ אִתְפְּרִיעוּ כָּל נְהוֹרִין – “In him all the supernal lights are revealed.”36 And “Egypt” signifies not only straitened spiritual circumstances37 and finitude, but also the attribute of Gevurah in the realm of holiness, which intensifies the downward flow of Divine life-force.38

36. וְהָיוּ מְסַפְּרִים בִּיצִיאַת 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 אוֹתָהּ הַלַּיְלָה instead of אוֹתוֹ הַלַּיְלָה. [The adjective would thus agree in gender with the noun that 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]. 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 sense the pleasantness of the Redemption – is deeply delicious.”39

37. עַד שֶׁבָּאוּ תַלְמִידֵיהֶם וְאָמְרוּ לָהֶם: רַבּוֹתֵינוּ, הִגִּיַע זְמַן קְרִיאַת שְׁמַע שֶׁל שַׁחֲרִית – “…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;40and “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.41

38. אָמַר רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲזַרְיָה: הֲרֵי אֲנִי כְּבֶן שִׁבְעִים שָׁנָה וְלֹא זָכִיתִי שֶׁתֵּאָמַר יְצִיאַת מִצְרַיִם בַּלֵּילוֹת, עַדשֶׁדְּרָשָׁהּ בֶּןזוֹמָא – 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.”42 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; and 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 is comprised of 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 יַיִן (“wine”), whose numerical value is seventy.)

This enables us to understand why R. Elazar ben Azaryah said, “I am like a man of seventy,”43 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. יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ: הַיָּמִים. כֹּל יְמֵיחַיֶּיךָ: לְהָבִיא הַלֵּילוֹת– “‘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 zest44 – 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.

וַחֲכָמִים אוֹמְרִים, יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ: הָעוֹלָם הַזֶּה – “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,45 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 Torah46it is written that there is a difference between the nature of the middos of a Jew and (lehavdilJ 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-Zion, 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 getting the necessary strength, in order to serve G‑d through studying the Torah and observing the mitzvos.

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

40. כֹּל יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ לְהָבִיא לִימוֹת הַמָּשִׁיחַ – “The phrase ‘All the days of your life’ includes (lit., ‘is to bring’) the Messianic Era.

This may be interpreted47 in two ways.

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

(b) Throughout these days of exile in the “six thousand years of the world’s duration,”48 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”; 49 getting out of exile does not interest them.

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

(a) 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.

(b) 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, כֹּל יְמֵי חַיֶּיךָ: לְהָבִיא לִימוֹת הַמָּשִׁיחַ – “All the days of your life should be directed to bringing about the days of the 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. אֶחָד חָכָםוְאֶחָד רָשָׁע, וְאֶחָד תָּם. וְאֶחָד שֶׁאֵינוֹ יוֹדֵעַ לִשְׁאוֹל – “One is wise, one is wicked, one is simple, and one does not know how to ask.”

Each of the 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 מַשְׁבִּיעִין אוֹתוֹ (“an oath is administered to him”50) implies שׂוֹבַע (“satiety”)51 – but he does not utilize this potential.

The wise son here refers to a maskil52 – and such a man needs to be protected vigilantly from his neighbor, the wicked son.

42. הַר שֵׂעִיר לָרֶשֶׁת אוֹתוֹ– “[To Esav I gave] Mount Seir53 to inherit.”

[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 Esav.

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). Esav exemplified the latter concept; hence his [seemingly over-pious] query as to how one ought to tithe hay and salt.54 Yitzchak likewise misjudged him, for from the spiritual perspective of “the intensity of the lights” it is conceivable55 that even hay should be tithed. [The transcendent, primordial kind of illumination56 – the oros makkifim of the World of Tohu – connoted by] Mount Seir in fact belongs to the Jewish people.57 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 Esav’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.58

43. וְגַם אֶת הַגּוֹיאֲשֶׁריַעֲבֹדוּדָּןאָנֹכִי– “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 – is understood as if it were a transitive verb meaning “to enslave”; דָּן is understood to mean “[the Jewish people] are judged”; and אָנֹכִי 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 as to the measure of their attachment to G‑d.

44. In honor of the approaching festival of Pesach in the year 5650 (1890),59 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,60the 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. My father was once told at yechidus by his father, the Rebbe Maharash: “One who is an atzmi can convey this [capacity for utter dedication to the service of G‑d], and one who is an atzmi can be a recipient [for it].”

46. רַבִּי יְהוּדָה הָיָה נוֹתֵן בָּהֶם סִמָּנִים:דְּצַ"ךְ. עֲדַ"שׁ. בְּאַחַ"ב – “R. Yehudah referred to [the plagues] by acronyms….”

[In the following three paragraphs,] 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 אֲשֶׁר.61

The Jewish people use this word in the blessings when they say אֲשֶׁר קִדְּשָׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו – “...Who has sanctified us with His commandments.” This implies delight, as in the word אִשְׁרוּנִי.62

Pharaoh, by contrast, used this word when he asked, מִי ה' אֲשֶׁר אֶשְׁמַע – “Who is G‑d that I should heed [His voice]?”63 Plagues totalling 50164 (the numerical equivalent of אֲשֶׁר) were needed to make him realize the reason for them and the Divine intent in bringing them upon him.

47. 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.65

48. When we count Sefiras HaOmer we say הַיּוֹם יוֹם... – “Today is the ... day [of the Omer].”[Taken alone, these two words mean, “Today is a day.”] This reminds one that each day ought to be a real 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 הַיּוֹם יוֹם – “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], אָסוּרָה מִכָּאן לְהִתְקַרֵב לְשָׁם – “I shall turn aside from here to come nearer there.”66 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 fulffllment of the verse that promises, כִּימֵי צֵאתְךָ מֵאֶרֶץ מִצְרַיִם אַרְאֶנוּ נִפְלָאוֹת – “As in the days67 of your going out of Egypt shall I show them wonders.”

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 fulfill the teaching indicated by the words הַיּוֹם יוֹם, ensuring that every day is lived as a full day’s worth, the Almighty will surely see to it that הַיּוֹם יוֹם – that the days ahead should be as luminous as daylight, both materially and spiritually.