אֶחָד מֵהָעִלוּיִם הַמְפוּרְסָמִים בַּעַל כִּשָׁרוֹן גָּדוֹל וְעַמְקָן נִפְלָא בָּא לְלִיאָזנאָ וְשָׁקַד בְּלִמּוּד הַחֲסִידוּת, וּבְגוֹדֶל כִּשְׁרוֹנוֹתָיו רָכַשׁ לוֹ בְּמֶשֶׁךְ זְמַן קָצָר יְדִיעָה גְּדוֹלָה וּרְחָבָה בְּתוֹרַת הַחֲסִידוּת.

בַּיְחִידוּת הָרִאשׁוֹנָה שֶׁנִּכְנַס לְרַבֵּנוּ הַזָּקֵן שָׁאַל: רַבִּי מַה חָסֵר לִי? וַיַּעֲנֵהוּ רַבֵּנוּ הַזָּקֵן: אֵין חָסֵר לְךָ מְאוּמָה, כִּי יְרֵא אֱלֹקִים אַתָּה וְלַמְדָן, רַק צָרִיךְ אַתָּה לְהוֹצִיא אֶת הֶחָמֵץ שֶׁהוּא הַיֵּשׁוּת וְגַּסּוּת הָרוּחַ, וּלְהַכְנִיס מַצָּה שֶׁהוּא בִּטּוּל. וּכְלִי שֶׁנִּשְׁתַּמֵשׁ בּוֹ בְּיֵשׁוּת שֶׁנִּדְמֶה לוֹ שֶׁהוּא אוֹר כְּגוֹן שִׁפּוּדִין, שֶׁדוֹחֲקִין רַגְלֵי הַשְּׁכִינָה, דְּאֵין אֲנִי וָהוּא יְכוֹלִין לָדוּר, צָרִיךְ לִבּוּן. וְהַלִּבּוּן הוּא עַד שֶׁיִּהְיוּ הַנִּצוֹצוֹת דְּהַבֵּרוּרִים נִתָּזִין וְנִכְלָלִין בְּהָאוֹר הָאֲמִתִּי.

A brilliant and renowned prodigy, with great talents and wondrously deep comprehension, came to Liozna and devoted himself to the study of Chassidus. Thanks to his immense gifts, he acquired a vast and broad knowledge of Chassidus in a short period of time.

At his first yechidus, he entered the Alter Rebbe’s study and asked: “Rebbe, what am I lacking?”

The Alter Rebbe answered him: “You lack nothing, for you are G‑d-fearing and a scholar. You only have to remove your chametz, which signifies ego and arrogance, and replace it with matzah, which signifies bittul, self-effacement.

“Now, a person who is arrogant ‘repels the feet of the Divine Presence,’1 for ‘he and [G‑d] cannot dwell in the same place.’2 [So what is the remedy for arrogance?] A utensil,3 say a roasting spit, that was used with the arrogance that one imagined to be light requires libun. This means that it must be heated until sparks fly off; that is, until the sparks of self-refinement fly outward and are incorporated in the true light.”4

A Story with an Echo

During the time that the Rebbe Rayatz served as director of the original Tomchei Temimim Yeshivah in Lubavitch, a certain student applied for admission — a young man who was extremely bright, but with a certain lack of refinement that was even reflected in his physical features. The Rebbe Rashab agreed to accept him, and asked his son to give him special attention, in an attempt to help him refine himself.

As Pesach approached, the Rebbe Rashab directed that this young man be entrusted with all the hard work involved in the students’ matzah baking. This was no simple matter, for it was the tradition of the Yeshivah to be scrupulous about many optional strictures in the law. The young man undertook his responsibilities happily. For weeks on end he worked nonstop, without a moment’s respite. In addition to his unremitting physical tasks, he was also kept busy with a complex chassidic discourse that he was instructed to master and then explain. And as he labored, carefully protecting the matzos from any trace of chametz, so his personal chametz — the unrefined ego — also began to fade.

On the last day of Pesach, as the students were sitting down to the festive meal, the Rebbe Rashab motioned to his son and said: “Yosef Yitzchak! Just look what a powerful thing is perspiring for a mitzvah! Look — this young man has acquired different features altogether. The coarseness has vanished. What has now appeared is the face of a mensch….”5