Jerusalem Still in Ruins
The Book of Nechemiah, Part 1
By Mendel Dubov
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Monday, February 01, 2016 at 7pm ET
About this webcast:
This class teaches the book of Nehemiah, covering the first chapter, with insights culled from the classic commentaries on Tanach.
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"Could My Back Pain Be a Punishment from G-d?" Chabad Magazine for Wednesday, Shevat 10, 5776 · January 20, 2016
Editor's Note:
Dear Friend,
Early Tuesday morning Twitter went down. Shortly after service was restored, #twitterdown became a trending topic.
We’ve grown so accustomed to communicating with anyone, anywhere, anytime, that a temporary outage can feel like a major crisis. Talk about first world problems!
If you are old enough to vote, you surely remember a world without Twitter. If you’re old enough to run for president, you can remember a world without internet. And if you’re old enough to collect social security, you even remember a world without touch-tone phones.
The world is marching toward a reality that we never imagined. Today, Wednesday, is Yud Shevat, the day the Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory—formally assumed leadership of the Chabad-Lubavitch movement in 1951 and outlined his vision of a world transformed, from jungle to garden, from ignorance to enlightenment, from poverty to plenty.
In 1951 it was hard to imagine how information could be spread to the farthest corners of the globe, how enough food could be produced to sustain every single human being, and how every individual could have his/her say in the global discourse.
But the technology is now in place to do all that, and we’re just warming up. The Jewish dream of Moshiach is about to become a reality. Perhaps your mitzvah will be the one to push us all over the cusp. Go ahead and do it. #Moshiachnow
Menachem Posner
on behalf of the Chabad.org Editorial Team
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Mishpatim
The Sung Unhero
Your most heroic acts are those of which you may not even be aware.
Like the time you could have gotten even with the guy in the next cubicle, and nobody would have known. And you really wanted to. But you didn’t, just because it’s not right.
You may not have been impressed—you may even have been disappointed with yourself. But the angels burst into song, as all your world rose up a notch. It may have been the most elevating act of a lifetime.
Heroic acts are not heroic if they’re second nature. It’s when you break out of your nature that you enter the realm of the divine.
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Chabad.org Magazine - Editor: Yanki Tauber
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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This Week's Features:
Printable Magazine
How the Red Sea Got Real
As a roadblock, it was a fiction. As a miracle, it became real.
By Tzvi Freeman
How the Red Sea Got Real
As a roadblock, it was a fiction. As a miracle, it became real.
An essay of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, adapted by Tzvi Freeman
The StoryHaving escaped from slavery, the children of Israel find their path blocked by the Sea of Reeds. The Egyptian army is closing in behind them. It is nighttime. It seems a nightmare.
G‑d tells Moses to hold out his staff over the sea. A mighty wind begins to blow, and continues blowing intensely throughout the night.
As morning approaches, the sea splits and the children of Israel march through. The Egyptian army, following close behind, is foiled, the wheels of their chariots snatched away by the mud, riders and chariots dragged torturously by their horses.
Now Moses holds out his staff once more. In the language of the Hebrew text, “The sea returned to its strength”1—with a fury, drowning an entire army. The nightmare reveals itself as an ambush to the pursuer and a pathway to liberation.
“The sea returned to its strength.” The word for “to its strength” here isle’eitano (לאיתנו). The rabbis of the Talmud see some difficulty in this text. They find it necessary to make a play on words, changing the order of the letters. Le’eitano, they say, is also meant to be read as li-tena’o (לתנאו)—meaning “to its stipulation.”
Which stipulation? “Got the deal?” G‑d said. “Okay, so now you exist.”A stipulation G‑d made with the sea when He created it on the third day of creation. “When the children of Israel get to this point,” G‑d warned that sea, “you are to split so they can get through. Got it? Okay, so now you exist.”2
First Questions
When we tell the story of the Exodus, the rabbis say, we must tell it in a way that awakens the child to ask questions. Only an inquisitive mind can hear a story to its depth.
Revealing new details and new depth to a story by playing with the words in this way is a form of derush which belongs to the body of literature calledMidrash. Upon hearing this particular midrash, any bright child will certainly have many questions. And if we open our minds as a child’s mind is open, we too will find an endless string of questions to ask. Which is precisely what the rabbis wanted when they told the story this way.
Some If we open our minds as a child’s mind is open, we too will find an endless string of questions.of us will ask, “Why can’t the rabbis leave the story alone? What’s wrong with the words as they are? Why do they need to turn one word into another?”
Others will ask, “Why does G‑d find it necessary to make a stipulation with the sea? He made the sea—let Him do with it as He pleases, whenever He pleases!”
And yet others will ask, “Since when does the Sea of Reeds become a sentient being, to choose whether to follow its Creator’s command or not?”
And there will be more questions. But, for now, let us put those big questions aside and first tackle the internal consistency of this midrash.
Here’s one seeming lack of consistency: When we read that “the sea returned to its strength”—obviously, this event occurred after the sea had split. But when we read the words as “the sea returned to its stipulation”—the fulfillment of the stipulation did not occur now, but hours earlier, when the sea first split. Why on earth would the story allude to the sea’s fulfillment of its stipulation now, when it starts to flow again, and not when it actually occurred—when it split?
This Week's Features:
Printable Magazine
How the Red Sea Got Real
As a roadblock, it was a fiction. As a miracle, it became real.
By Tzvi Freeman
How the Red Sea Got Real
As a roadblock, it was a fiction. As a miracle, it became real.
An essay of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, adapted by Tzvi Freeman
The StoryHaving escaped from slavery, the children of Israel find their path blocked by the Sea of Reeds. The Egyptian army is closing in behind them. It is nighttime. It seems a nightmare.
G‑d tells Moses to hold out his staff over the sea. A mighty wind begins to blow, and continues blowing intensely throughout the night.
As morning approaches, the sea splits and the children of Israel march through. The Egyptian army, following close behind, is foiled, the wheels of their chariots snatched away by the mud, riders and chariots dragged torturously by their horses.
Now Moses holds out his staff once more. In the language of the Hebrew text, “The sea returned to its strength”1—with a fury, drowning an entire army. The nightmare reveals itself as an ambush to the pursuer and a pathway to liberation.
“The sea returned to its strength.” The word for “to its strength” here isle’eitano (לאיתנו). The rabbis of the Talmud see some difficulty in this text. They find it necessary to make a play on words, changing the order of the letters. Le’eitano, they say, is also meant to be read as li-tena’o (לתנאו)—meaning “to its stipulation.”
Which stipulation? “Got the deal?” G‑d said. “Okay, so now you exist.”A stipulation G‑d made with the sea when He created it on the third day of creation. “When the children of Israel get to this point,” G‑d warned that sea, “you are to split so they can get through. Got it? Okay, so now you exist.”2
First Questions
When we tell the story of the Exodus, the rabbis say, we must tell it in a way that awakens the child to ask questions. Only an inquisitive mind can hear a story to its depth.
Revealing new details and new depth to a story by playing with the words in this way is a form of derush which belongs to the body of literature calledMidrash. Upon hearing this particular midrash, any bright child will certainly have many questions. And if we open our minds as a child’s mind is open, we too will find an endless string of questions to ask. Which is precisely what the rabbis wanted when they told the story this way.
Some If we open our minds as a child’s mind is open, we too will find an endless string of questions.of us will ask, “Why can’t the rabbis leave the story alone? What’s wrong with the words as they are? Why do they need to turn one word into another?”
Others will ask, “Why does G‑d find it necessary to make a stipulation with the sea? He made the sea—let Him do with it as He pleases, whenever He pleases!”
And yet others will ask, “Since when does the Sea of Reeds become a sentient being, to choose whether to follow its Creator’s command or not?”
And there will be more questions. But, for now, let us put those big questions aside and first tackle the internal consistency of this midrash.
Here’s one seeming lack of consistency: When we read that “the sea returned to its strength”—obviously, this event occurred after the sea had split. But when we read the words as “the sea returned to its stipulation”—the fulfillment of the stipulation did not occur now, but hours earlier, when the sea first split. Why on earth would the story allude to the sea’s fulfillment of its stipulation now, when it starts to flow again, and not when it actually occurred—when it split?
Another StoryJews have been asking questions like this for a long time (as well as all the earlier questions we just put aside for the moment). They also have further resources at hand to provide further insight to the intent of our rabbis. Such as the story of Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair, as told in the Talmud, tractate Chullin:
Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair was on his way to perform the mitzvah of redeeming captives. At a certain point, the Ginai River blocked his path.
He commanded, “Ginai, split your waters so I can pass through!”
The river replied, “You are going to perform the will of your Master, and I am going to perform the will of my Master. You may not succeed in your task, while I will surely succeed.”
He responded, “If you don’t split, I decree that water should not flow in you forever!”
The river split.3
Yes, more questions. For one, it seems entirely unfair. The river put forth a good Talmudic argument. Why doesn’t Rabbi Pinchas, a first-class Talmudist, provide a response? But let’s put that aside along with the others for now, and extract the insight we need.
What would be the consequence of the Ginai River refusing to obey Rabbi Pinchas? As he states, water would not flow in it forever. So when the rabbis speak about the stipulation with the Sea of Reeds, they likely intend the same: If the sea would not split, there would no longer be any sea.
If so, when do we know that the sea fulfilled its stipulation? Not when it split. That may simply have meant the end of the sea. Maybe it didn’t keep its promise after all, and so has met its demise. But once we see that the water has healthily returned, then we know that it really did keep its part of the deal.4
Better QuestionsThat’s a nice answer, because it opens up doors that allow us to investigate further. Because we’re not there yet. Here are two questions we need to ask to get to the bottom of this:
Let’s say the sea had not kept its promise. Not only would it no longer have its original strength—it would be gone altogether. So the verse should say “The sea returned to flow once again” or something similar. It doesn’t say that. It says, “The sea returned to its strength.” What does the strength of the sea have to do with the fulfillment of its promise?
According to this explanation, the return of the sea indicates that it kept its stipulation earlier, when it split. But that’s not what the words “returned to its stipulation” mean. The words should say “The sea returned because of its stipulation.” Unless we say that “returned to its stipulation/strength” means that it had somehow returned to its stipulation and gained strength from there. But why would that be so?
Obviously, something deeper is going on over here. And to get deeper, we need more information.
Let’s Read That Story AgainRabbi Dov Ber, known as the Maggid of Mezeritch, was a great Talmudist and Kabbalist. He is best known as the master teacher of the generation oftzaddikim who spread the Baal Shem Tov’s teachings throughout Eastern and Central Europe.
The Rabbi Pinchas was quite literally threatening to revoke the river’s license to have ever existed.Maggid reads the story of Rabbi Pinchas ben Yair with a slight twist from our reading.5 When Rabbi Pinchas declared that “if you don’t split, I will decree that water should not flow in you forever!” he did not mean simply that the water should cease to flow from this point on. To say that, he could drop the word “forever.” Rather, Rabbi Pinchas was quite literally threatening to revoke the river’s license to have ever existed. There would never have been a Ginai River.
And that is how he pulls the carpet out from under the river’s otherwise very reasonable argument: If it would never have existed, it would never have been fulfilling its Creator’s will. Indeed, the river really does not have the capacity to stand in the way of its Creator’s will—because, if it does, it never was. Which is another way of saying that its entire reality, from its genesis to its end, is inextricably tied to assisting Rabbi Pinchas in his mission.
The Maggid extends that thought further to include the entirety of existence. After all, the midrash continues, “Not only with the sea did G‑d make a stipulation, but with all that He created in the six days of creation.” Meaning, as the Maggid explains, all that exists was created only as background and props for the fulfillment of Torah and mitzvot—either as an assist or as a challenge to bring out greater strength. Anything that stands in the way retroactively never existed.
So when Rabbi Pinchas saw this river was an absolute obstacle to the fulfillment of his mitzvah, he informed it that it was putting its very existence on the line—retroactively as well.
That certainly is the meaning of a stipulation in a case like this. Let’s say we make an agreement that I will share ownership of my house with you from this day on, as long as you never stand in the way of my sale of the house. We share the use of the house as two equal owners for a year or so. Then one day I decide to sell, and you say, “No way! It’s my house too!” I could simply turn around and say, “No, it never was.”
And if you say, “Since when?” I would answer, “Until now, it was your house just as it was mine. But now that you don’t agree to my sale, it was never your house.”
Watch out, because I may charge you retroactive rent for all those months, as well.6
Retroactive NonexistenceSo a stipulation can change the status of the past. But here we are talking about an observed phenomenon—namely the existence of a river or a sea. How can something we have all observed vanish to never have been?
That would be an issue if the world was made of static objects that have some sort of independent existence. If the Creator had made the world out of some pre-existing substance, then if He would choose to destroy it, it would only revert to that primal gunk. But let’s say He would have conjured some elemental substance into being and endowed it in some inexplicable way with its own existence. Then, once He would destroy it, it would still have a history. There would have been a thing that is now no longer here.
But neither of those is the case. There is nothing that “just is” all of its own—not even the fundamental matter of which the physical world is composed, not even the laws and constants of physics that seem so consistent throughout the universe. The very existence of each entity—down to its very substance and its very nature—is a recurring event, sustained by a current of creative energy invested within it. The Torah calls that energy “words” or “divine speech.” As Rabbi Schneur Zalman writes in the second part of Tanya in the name of the Baal Shem Tov:
It is written, “Forever, G‑d, Your word stands firm in the heavens.” The Baal Shem Tov, of blessed memory, explained this verse as follows: Your word that You said, “Let there be a sky in the midst of the waters”—those very words and letters stand firmly within the sky of the heavens and are forever invested within all the heavens to vivify them. As it says: “The word of our G‑d shall stand firm forever.” So, also: “His words live and stand firm forever.”
For if the letters were to depart for just an instant, G‑d forbid, and return to their source, all the heavens would be annulled to become absolute void. It would be as though they had never existed at all, exactly like before the utterance of “Let there be a sky.”
The Even dumb matter . . . its very existence would be annulled—exactly like before the six days of creation.same applies to all created things in all the upper and lower worlds—even the plain, dumb matter of this physical earth: If the letters of the ten utterances by which the earth was created during the six days of creation were to depart from it for just an instant, G‑d forbid, its very existence would be annulled—exactly like before the six days of creation.
This what the Ari, of blessed memory, meant when he said that even within those creations that are plain, dumb matter—such as rocks, soil and water—there is a soul and spiritual vitality. He was referring to the way the letters of speech from the ten utterances by which the world was created are invested within each of these. These letters vivify and “isify” the silent to be a something out of the null state that preceded the six days of creation.7
Flying Rocks and Mighty WindsYou might compare this to a rock thrown in the air—eventually, as the impetus that propels the rock is neutralized by inertia, the rock returns to its default state of sitting quietly upon the earth. Or, to use the analogy that Rabbi Schneur Zalman provides,8 if the mighty wind that was holding back the Sea of Reeds would stop for a moment, the water would return to its default state and flow once again.9
So too, the default state of each thing is to not exist. With the removal of the “isifying” force, they return to that state of never having been.
You’ll realize that this is somewhat different from the flying rock scenario, or the wall of water crashing down. The rock settles back down, and there is still a rock. The impetus someone put into it is gone, but the rock is still there.
That’s because the rock is not dependent upon that impetus for its existence. The rock can’t fly without that impetus, but it certainly can sit there. Heaven and earth can’t even exist for a moment without the force that isifies them.
But let’s go further—let’s discuss the event of flying: Once that impetus is dissipated, the event may be over, but it happened. The rock settles down with a history. What we are saying about the isifying force is that once it’s removed, history disappears along with it.
Why? Because, it never really happened. At least, not the way we perceive it to be—as a world that just is, all of its own. That was never real.
The event of a rock flying is a real event. There was a rock, it accelerated and left a person’s hand, then lost impetus to the force of gravity and landed elsewhere. There was a force, and that force had an effect outside of itself.
But Because there really is no is, just isifying.with the creation of heaven and earth, nothing ever emerges as its own entity. There really is no is, just isifying. Say those words out loud a few times and try to visualize what you are saying: There is no is, just isifying.
Yes, we see an independent isness—something that appears to be just because it is. But that is only because we are incapable of seeing the isifyingsubmerged beneath it. As soon as that isifying stops, a higher truth becomes evident—that there really was nothing here but a display of the Creator’s capacity to isify. There was no isness outside of Him.
If that is hard to conceive, consider as well that time is also a created entity. Removing the creative force from any entity would mean an annulment of its time continuum as well.
But that is not the crux of the explanation. The point is that even within its own timeframe of being, a creation exists on only one plane. Removing its isifying force annihilates that plane of reality, taking us up to a higher plane where none of this ever was.
Here’s a simple example: It’s much like that person who owns my house along with me and also does not. His ownership is in two superimposed states at once—and one of those will be annulled when I decide to sell my house. Which one depends on what he says. If he protests when I try to sell the house, he’s reaching back into the past and ripping out his claim of ownership from its very beginning. Now all that’s left is his non-ownership.
So too here: On one plane of reality, the sea exists. On another, it does not. We’ve yet to see which plane of reality will survive and which will be annihilated. (For more on this, see Quantum Talmud.)
How does any of this help us? Quite simply: Until the sea fulfilled its stipulation, its existence was “weak.” If you could have asked its Creator, “Does the sea exist or does it not?” the answer would have been “Yes. The sea exists and it does not.” That’s certainly a very weak and flimsy existence.
But once the sea fulfilled its stipulation, the possibility of “does not” was effectively removed, with only “does” remaining. Not only does the sea return to its past state, that past becomes retroactively a less compromised, “stronger” form of existence.
And By fulfilling its stipulation, the sea resolved into a strong state of existence.that is why we have to say that the sea returned not only to its previous state, but “to its strength”: It was no longer in a dual, collapsible state. It was now in a strong, resolved state.
Even StrongerWe’ve answered the first question—why the sea returned to its “strength (=stipulation),” and not just “flowed again.” But what about the second question? Why “to its stipulation” and not “because of its stipulation”?
So now is time to pull out one of those questions we earlier put aside: What is bothering the rabbis, that they feel a need to reinterpret a simple word? What is wrong with that word and its simple meaning to begin with?
Well, quite simply, it’s superfluous. If the water fell back down, why would I think it would be any weaker than it was before it stood as a wall? What is this phrase about returning to its strength telling me that I wouldn’t know otherwise?
So here’s the clue: I might imagine that being forced to break its pattern in order to fulfill a supernatural stipulation compromised the strength of nature. What previously appeared to be a fundamental law turns out to be a pushover. The verse, then, is telling me: no, quite the opposite—the nature of the water now rises to an immeasurably greater status, a status it could achieve only due to that stipulation. Natural law gains eternal reality only because it is capable of stepping aside for a miracle.
Make sense? Not yet. Because there are a few more details to fill in.
Who Needs Conditions?
Now is time to pull out the big question we put aside earlier: Why does the Creator of heaven and earth have any need for stipulations with His creation? Whenever He so desires, He can do whatever He wants with it.
Maimonides raises this question—and he provides an answer. He writes that it would be silly to think that G‑d changes His mind. From the outset of creation, He knew what miracles would be needed and when. So He programmed them into the creation to occur just when needed.10
Rabbi A miracle doesn’t imply G‑d had a change of mind.Menachem Meiri points out the flaw in Maimonides’ explanation, as does Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman in his classic commentary on the Mishnah:11A miracle doesn’t imply that G‑d had a change of mind. He can decide that when such-and-such a situation arises, He will perform such-and-such a miracle. No need to plant the miracle into the creation itself.
But aside from that, Maimonides’ explanation explains only a need for preprogramming miracles. By preprogramming them, miracles become part of the natural order. That’s not what the Midrash is saying here. It is saying there was a stipulation made with the sea (and with all the rest of creation). That implies:
That the sea is to do something outside of its nature;
That its very existence depends on fulfillment of that stipulation;
And that that fulfillment must in some way be left up to it—not (directly) imposed from beyond.
In other words, it must be in the nature of things to allow entry of the supernatural.
But why?
PurposeThe only way to answer all these little questions is by going straight to the Big Question: What did the Creator have in mind when He created this world and all it contains?
Some will answer that it was all created as a stage upon which the Jewish people can learn Torah and do mitzvahs. Then, once we’re done, we can receive a reward and the whole world can be tossed out.
In that case, there would be no need for stipulations with any part of the creation. Everything would be just designed from the get-go as the perfect backdrop for those mitzvahs.
So others go further. They explain that we learn Torah and do mitzvahs in order to bring into the world that which transcends the world. On Shabbat, for example, we are a step above the world. So too whenever we are engaged in the divine word of Torah or occupied in a mitzvah: We are bringing content from beyond this world—from beyond all worlds, and all creation, for that matter—onto the stage of this world. Torah and mitzvahs, after all, are the Creator’s innermost will. The natural order of things is just a backdrop, a stage.
That would explain the necessity for miracles—whether they are open miracles such as occurred when we left Egypt, or miracles that unfold vested within the mechanics of the natural order. Both open our eyes to behold that our reality is not a closed system. Things do not have to be the way they are. They are this way only because there is purpose, there is meaning, there is a vast plan that lies beyond the laws of physics.
But that still does not explain the need for the Creator to enter into negotiations, agreements and stipulations with the natural order. We will work on opening the window shades, and He will shine in the light, and let Him perform a miracle whenever He so pleases.
So The natural world is not just a stage. It is the material itself from which a miraculous world is crafted.it seems the rabbis are telling us that the natural world is not just a stage. Rather, it is the material itself from which a miraculous world is crafted. An utterly miraculous world—because its very nature depends on it allowing entry to that which transcends its nature.
If G‑d would simply say, “Okay, miracle coming! Sea, water, all other elements of nature—just get out of the way!”—then He remains at best a guest in His own world. Instead, the very existence of each thing must be tied to the miraculous, to the transcendent—and yet allowed to remain natural.
Because that is the purpose—a very paradoxical purpose: That a finite world, tightly bound by patterns of nature, should host its own boundless, infinite Creator. G‑d, so to speak, wants to be at home within His own creation.
Becoming RealNow the smaller questions fall away: Why would we have thought that the sea might be weaker after fulfilling its stipulation? Because we imagined that by giving way to a miracle, the natural order has been compromised. Physics is not such a big deal—whenever necessary, it gets thrown to the side.
But no, quite the opposite: Nature gains reality only once it becomes a window for the supernatural.What is real? Only that which lasts forever.
What is real? Only that which lasts forever.
By all accounts, the world as we know it has a limited lifespan. Furthermore, all that we observe in our world is in a constant state of flux. How things are one moment is not how they are the very next moment. There is nothing we observe about which we can say, “This is what it is and this is what it always will be.”
But once any part of this world finds its place in a purpose and meaning beyond space and time, at that point it becomes real.
That is what happened with the Sea of Reeds: Before the children of Israel arrived there, it was nothing more than a deep marsh. It had appeared at some point in the earth’s geological history, and was destined to vanish by some later date.12
But now that the sea actually assisted the children of Israel in their journey to receive the Torah, it became an eternal story—eternal because it is tied up with the inner desire of the Creator of all things, for whom time is just another creation that could be or not be. The Creator does not change, and so His desire does not change—and that desire is in Torah, in which the Sea of Reeds is now an integral player.
It comes out that this stipulation within the creation is stronger than the creation itself. Creation alone is a weak state of reality. It’s the fulfilment of the stipulation that carries a creation into a strong state of reality.
That’s the sense behind the words “The sea returned to its strength/stipulation.” The Sea of Reeds returned to that original stipulation between it and its Creator, and from there it received a whole new state of strength. The Sea of Reeds became real.
ChallengesYou don’t have to be a marsh to become real. Anything of this world that is used for a divine purpose can get there. And a divine purpose is not necessarily a mitzvah. The rabbis tell us that “all your deeds should be for the sake of heaven.” When you sleep, eat, go to work, live a healthy family life—you can do all of those with divine purpose. All of them can become a kind of commentary on the Torah, ways by which you know the Creator of this marvelous world. As Solomon the Wise wrote, “In all your ways, know Him.”
So with every deed, every breath, we take every puzzle piece of our world and breathe into it an eternal reality. At some subliminal level, the world knows that. Every fragment of it awaits us, yearning for that breath. Because nothing has been placed within our world without purpose. All awaits us for its rescue.
And if some river stands in the way and stubbornly refuses to allow us passage—it stands not only in the way of our destiny, but in the way of its own, as well. It only awaits us to declare our conviction, to reach deep inside and say, “World, for this you were created!”
When When nothing stands in the way from within, nothing can stand in the way from without.nothing stands in the way from within, nothing can stand in the way from without. At that point, the river transforms. It even assists us in our journey. Indeed, it was there all along only to thwart the enemy and provide a path to liberation.
Because for this all things were created.
SourcesLikkutei Sichot, volume 6, page 86.
Sefer HaMaamarim 5729, “HaYoshevet BaGanim.”
FOOTNOTES1.Exodus 14:27.
2.Bereishit Rabbah 5:5.
3.Talmud, Chullin 7a.
4.See Yedei Moshe on Bereishit Rabbah ad loc.; Ohr Hachaim on Exodus ad loc.
5.Ohr Torah, Beshalach, 89. See references there.
6.For a similar case, see Mishneh Torah, Laws of Divorce 5:22, and Maggid Mishneh ad loc.
7.Shaar HaYichud VehaEmunah (Tanya, Book II), chapter 1.
8.Ibid., chapter 2.
9.A modern analogy may be the state of the pixels on your computer screen: as soon as the current of energy stops flowing, they all revert to their default state of zero luminance.—Ed.
10.Guide for the Perplexed 2:29. See also Commentary on the Mishnah, Avot 5:6.
11.Avot 5:6.
12.This has an application in halachah(Torah law). For certain ritual purposes (see Mishnah, Parah 8:9), we need to use “living waters.” Water from a river that dries up once in seven years is not considered “living water.” Rather, it’s called “false waters.” Similarly, the rabbis say that this world has a timespan of six millennia (Talmud, Sanhedrin 97a).
AN ESSAY OF THE REBBE, RABBI MENACHEM M. SCHNEERSON, ADAPTED BY TZVI FREEMAN
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VIDEO
Watch Excerpts from the Rebbe’s First Chassidic Discourse
The sages state that “all sevenths are cherished.” This is the reason, they explain, why Moses was the one who merited to bring G-d’s Presence into this world—because he was the seventh from Abraham.
Watch (9:01)
<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=1102138&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span>
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The Story Behind the Extra Dollars from the Rebbe
Jordana Stockhamer shares a personal story at the Jewish Women’s Retreat in Toronto.
By Jordana Stockhamer
Watch (23:04)
Watch Excerpts from the Rebbe’s First Chassidic Discourse
The sages state that “all sevenths are cherished.” This is the reason, they explain, why Moses was the one who merited to bring G-d’s Presence into this world—because he was the seventh from Abraham.
Watch (9:01)<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=1102138&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span>
---------------------
The Story Behind the Extra Dollars from the Rebbe
Jordana Stockhamer shares a personal story at the Jewish Women’s Retreat in Toronto.
By Jordana Stockhamer
Watch (23:04)
<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=3132858&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span>
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How to Move Forward Despite Adversity
Shortly after leaving Egypt, the children of Israel found themselves in an impossible situation, stuck between the sea in front of them and the Egyptian army chasing them from behind. The proper response contains a powerful lesson in surmounting seemingly impossible challenges.
By Yehoshua B. Gordon
Watch (29:02)
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How to Move Forward Despite Adversity
Shortly after leaving Egypt, the children of Israel found themselves in an impossible situation, stuck between the sea in front of them and the Egyptian army chasing them from behind. The proper response contains a powerful lesson in surmounting seemingly impossible challenges.
By Yehoshua B. Gordon
Watch (29:02)
<script language="javascript" type="text/javascript" src="http://embed.chabad.org/multimedia/mediaplayer/embedded/embed.js.asp?aid=2451854&width=auto&height=auto"></script><span style="clear:both;" class="lb" id="lbdiv">Visit <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish.TV</a> for more <a href="http://www.chabad.org/multimedia/default_cdo/aid/591213/jewish/Video.htm">Jewish videos</a>.</span>
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"The ∞ of one" Chabad for Sunday, 10 January 20160
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Your Questions
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 Question:My four-year-old asked me some hard questions that I wasn’t sure how to answer, like “Why did G‑d make people deaf? Did they do something bad?” I tried explaining that somehow everything G‑d does is for the best even if we don’t understand why, but I felt it wasn’t the best answer I could have given. Could you guide me how to answer her?Answer:No human being is complete on his own. Each of us are lacking in some areas and have strengths in others. A blind person may have an especially keen intellect, and a deaf person, profound emotional strength. No one has it all. This means we need each other.If you can see, you can help someone who can’t. If you are healthy, you can help someone who isn’t. If you have money, you can share it with those in need. And if you have emotional depth, you can support those in emotional turmoil. The Talmud relates that the Roman governor Turnus Rufus challenged Rabbi Akiva with the following question: “If G‑d loves the poor, why doesn’t He supply them with their needs?” Rabbi Akiva’s reply was, “To give us the opportunity to save ourselves from Gehinnom (hell).” Gehinnom is a world where no one ever helps anyone else, where everyone thinks only about themselves and cares not for another. We are in this world to do kindness. Every lack that one person has is an opportunity for another to fill it with love. So let’s say all of this in the language of a four-year-old: You are a good sharer. When you share your toys with other kids who don’t have those toys, you become friends. You can also share your eyes and your ears, by helping someone who can’t see or hear. And they can help you too. Then we can all be friends. That’s why G‑d created us all with something missing. He is not punishing us for doing something wrong; He is giving us a chance to do something right. Source: Talmud, Bava Batra 10a
Aron Moss is rabbi of the Nefesh Community in Sydney, Australia, and is a frequent contributor to Chabad.org.
Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Parshah
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Cyberspace, outer space, inner space. Genome maps, globalization, going to Mars. Smart cards, smart bombs, stem cells and cell phones. There is no denying it: we live in a new age. Science fiction has become scientific fact. And the question is asked: In this new world order, with science and technology changing the way we live, is religion still relevant? Do we still need to subscribe to an ancient and seemingly long-obsolete code of laws, when we are so much further advanced than our ancestors?
But let me ask you: Have the Ten Commandments passed their “sell-by” date? Are faith and doubt, murder and adultery, thievery and jealousy out of fashion? Notwithstanding all our marvelous medical and scientific developments, has human nature itself really changed? Are not the very same moral issues that faced our ancestors still challenging our own generation? Whether it’s an oxcart or a Mercedes, road rage or courteous coexistence is still a choice we must make. Looking after aged parents is not a new problem. The very same issues dealt with in the Bible—sibling rivalry, jealous spouses and warring nations—are still the stuff of newspaper headlines today. We still struggle with knowing the difference between right and wrong, moral or immoral, ethical or sneaky, and not even the most souped-up computer on earth is able to answer those questions for us. Science and technology address the how and what of life, but they do not answer the question of why. Why are we here in the first place? Why should I be nice to my neighbor? Why should my life be nobler than my pet Doberman’s? Science and technology have unraveled many mysteries that puzzled us for centuries. But they have not answered a single moral question. Only Torah addresses the moral minefield. And those issues are perhaps more pressing today than ever before in history. Torah is truth, and truth is eternal. Scenarios come and go. Lifestyles change with the geography. The storylines are different, but the gut-level issues are all too familiar. If we ever needed a Torah—we need it equally today, and maybe more so. May we continue to find moral guidance and clarity in the eternal truths of our holy and eternal Torah. Amen.
Rabbi Yossy Goldman was born in Brooklyn, New York. In 1976 he was sent by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, of righteous memory, as a Chabad-Lubavitch emissary to serve the Jewish community of Johannesburg, South Africa. He is Senior Rabbi of the Sydenham Shul since 1986, president of the South African Rabbinical Association, and a frequent contributor to Chabad.org. His book From Where I Stand: Life Messages from the Weekly Torah Reading was recently published by Ktav, and is available at Jewish bookshops or online.
Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Parshah
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The very first law in the Torah after the description of the giving of the Torah at Sinai is the law of the Jewish slave: “Should you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall work [for] six years, and in the seventh [year] he shall go out to freedom without charge.”1
Of all the laws in the Parshah—and there are many—why begin with the “regressive” topic of slavery? Is this the first and most important law the Jews have to hear? I know many rabbis who have secretly confessed to wishing this law was sandwiched somewhere in the third reading, where hopefully it would not draw attention. I mean, who wants to talk about slavery in the 21st century? Why could we not start with some other universally appealing law, one that would clearly showcase the wisdom of the values of the Torah’s civil law? Personally, I have come to love talking about, and highlighting, this law. Because once you dig deep, you discover that this law speaks directly to the core issue that American justice is struggling with in the 21st century. For the most part, we have a great justice system. But once we take a careful look, we discover that often there exists a justice gap between people who can afford superior representation and those on the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder. There are numerous examples that can be discussed. Here is just one angle that recently appeared in the media: Increasingly, the Supreme Court is most likely to hear cases advocated by a select group of lawyers. Anyone who cannot afford these lawyers has a significantly harder chance of being heard. In an article titled “The Advocacy Gap,” The New Yorker reports: The phenomenon has been described before. Richard Lazarus, a professor at Harvard Law School, wrote in 2008 about the success of the Court bar in persuading the Justices to take cases, and why that is noteworthy: “In the world of Supreme Court advocacy, persuading the Court to grant a petition is the single most difficult challenge.” He detailed how the élite bar helped to persuade the Court to back corporations in antitrust, tort, and other kinds of business cases. In 2007, for instance, the Court struck down a century-old ban on manufacturers and distributors setting minimum retail prices for products. Reuters focused on more recent examples, such as the 2011 rejection of a class-action lawsuit against Walmart to stop discrimination against women, which made it a lot more difficult to bring class-action cases in general. In addition, Lazarus warned that the emergence of the modern Supreme Court bar created another, related problem: hiring advocates with strong records at the high court is expensive. He foresaw an “advocacy gap in the Court between those who can pay and those who cannot, which would be bad for the legal profession, the Court, and its rulings.”2 Now, let’s go back to the Torah. Who is the Jewish slave? He is a person on the lowest rung of the social ladder. He is a poverty-stricken individual who chose to sell himself, or he’s a thief who stole and was unable to pay back the amount stolen. In both cases, Jewish law specifies that he must be treated with utmost care—at times, even better than the master. The Torah is giving us a profound message, one that challenges us to this day. The Torah is telling us that the first priority of the legal system must be not the people who can afford the best representation, not the people who can afford to lobby for laws benefiting the powerful, but rather the lowest person in society. By placing the law of the Hebrew slave first, the Torah is telling us that if we are to achieve justice, we must ensure that the weakest amongst us receive justice: we must ensure that the slave is released on the seventh year. For justice is measured by how we treat the thief and the pauper. To create a just society, we must start with the people at the bottom.
Rabbi Menachem Feldman serves as the director of the Lifelong Learning department at the Chabad Lubavitch Center in Greenwich, CT.
FOOTNOTES
2.
Lincoln Caplan, “The Supreme Court’s Advocacy Gap,” The New Yorker, 6 January 2015.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Women
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I haven’t been able to write for a while. I’m not sure I could say the reason for my absence has been “writers’ block,” but I could possibly describe it as a “heart block.”
You see, I tripped in my home and broke my ankle in three places. Yes, three. Even the doctor called me an “overachiever.” I had to undergo surgery, and I still can’t walk. But, G‑d willing, with time and patience (of which I feel like I have neither), I will gain strength. At the same time, Chaim Boruch got pneumonia for the third time in two and a half months. I knew something was Chaim Boruch got pneumoniavery wrong, as his appetite had declined and he did not look well. We went from doctor to doctor until we finally saw a pulmonary specialist at a world-renowned hospital, University of California San Francisco, about 45 minutes from us. So, the good news was that we learned what had transpired with his health. The frightening news was that all his food, saliva and seizure medications were going down the wrong tube—straight into his airway and his lungs. His was the worst case they had ever seen. There was no choice but to schedule surgery for a gastrointestinal feeding tube. So while I was recovering from my surgery, in extreme pain, I was also at a new heightened level of inner trauma, fear and helplessness, as I wondered how in the world we would manage to take care of our large family when I was no help to anyone, not even myself. And there I lay, in bed, tears streaming down my cheeks, thinking of what my special little son was to go through. I am not proud to say I was angry, frustrated, hurt, and beside myself. I fought every good thought with thoughts of crushing despair and heartache. Despite the incredible blessing of a feeding tube, with which he could thrive, gain weight and receive all the nutrients and calories he so badly needed, I just couldn’t accept this new reality, this new page in our story. I couldn’t. But I did. I did because I finally surrendered. I finally turned it all over to G‑d. I beseeched Him with heart-wrenching sobs to please bless my Chaim Boruch with a successful surgery and good health. On the second day of Chanukah, in a wheelchair and, thank G‑d, seven-and-a-half months pregnant, I accompanied my Chaim Boruch into the operating room. Now, as you know, most hospital policies do not allow parents (let alone highly emotional and hormonal mothers) to accompany their children into the operating room. However, I had mustered the strength to insist that I go with him until he was put to sleep, as I felt I couldn’t send him off alone when he did not know where he was going and why. Thankfully, I was very blessed to be in an incredible hospital that agreed to my request. My I couldn’t send him off alonemind flashed back to his first surgery when he was nine hours old, cradled in my arms, while he drifted off to sleep. And now, nine years later, I was holding his hand, telling him I loved him while he breathed the anesthetic. And I felt, not like a human being, but a floating entity of a beating heart and emotions so deep, and tears so salty they burned my eyes. I was not me, myself or I. I was nothing. Nothing but mother. Mother of Chaim Boruch Scop. And I wheeled myself away from my sleeping child. I left my own heart in that operating room. I left my entire being beside my son’s. And all that remained were silent sobs and the prayers on my lips. I waited for what felt like an entire lifetime to see the surgeon, who gave us the news that all went well, and that we could go to post-op to see Chaim Boruch while he woke up from the anesthetic. Baruch Hashem. Thank G‑d. This is what we as Jews do. We surrender and we thank G‑d for the miracles of life and living, and all the goodness He bestows on us. And there, as my son lay with oxygen over his nose and mouth, I found myself shaking. I too seemed to have a hard time breathing, and I took his little hand in mine. I was a broken mother. I did not fight my feelings, nor did I hold back the tears. The tears of gratitude and pain, all mixed together in a concoction of life’s challenges. And now, a new day has begun. I call it a “new normal,” while not feeling any normalcy in my life at all, but clinging to the hope that my vision shall soon clear. For on some days I wonder if indeed I did not fight my feelingsthere is still a tiny piece of my heart in that operating room. I am unsure if I have truly moved on and turned my own page in my new story. Only time will tell, and only time will heal, as it surely does. In the meantime, I will continue to whisper the secrets of my heart into Chaim Boruch’s ears. For they are safe with him, a pure, special soul who holds my hand, saying “I love you” with eyes that speak volumes and a heart that understands deep love. And with a prayer on my lips, I ask G‑d to continue to hold my hand and give me the strength to retrieve that little piece of my heart. The little piece that is still missing.
Chana is a proud wife and mother of eight living in Mill Valley, California. She is inspired by the colors and textures of everyday life, and loves sharing her creative ideas with her community. Chana writes DIY projects, crafts and recipes celebrating her Jewish life and shlichus on her blog Chana’s Art Room, and is the co-director of Chabad of Mill Valley with her husband, Rabbi Hillel Scop. To read more about Chaim Boruch, and Chana’s journey, take a look at her personal special-needs blog, Life of Blessing.
Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Women
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I have a close friend whose baby loved to eat. Sarah1 was just under a year old, and would sit at the table and eat a full plate of food: Thai food, Chinese, Indian, you name it. Sarah would feed herself with her hands, delighted to be taking part in the meal with her family.
One day my friend took her baby to the pediatrician, and was informed that her baby’s weight was spiking off her percentile curve. The doctor suggested that my friend begin to moderate Sarah’s food portions, and not give her any chips, crackers, cookies or pretzels. This was no small task. Her baby’s weight was spikingEvery time my friend went to the park with her daughter, she had to guard Sarah from seeing any snack foods. Family meals turned into a battleground. Then my friend started reading about new nutrition methods that were opposed to restraining a child’s eating. She decided to take the plunge, feeling that she had nothing to lose. She stopped restraining Sarah’s portion sizes, and started serving scheduled meals and snacks that were balanced with carbohydrates, protein and fat. My friend followed the Division of Responsibility in Feeding2 method, which she had learned from her reading. My friend took responsibility for the what, when and where of feeding her daughter. Her daughter was responsible for how much and whether or not she ate. At first Sarah would hoard previously forbidden foods, but mealtimes slowly became more pleasant. After about four months, Sarah calmed down when she realized that she no longer had to fight for what she wanted to eat. The focus at mealtimes shifted away from Sarah and to other topics. My friend’s daughter is still chubby, but she is definitely slimming down as she grows taller. Some doctors and nutritionists feel that restraining a baby’s eating is not the way to go. They believe that we should provide a child with a variety of nutritious and appealing foods, and then let the child decide what and how much to eat based on internal regulators of hunger, appetite and satisfaction.3 This way of thinking says that restraining your children’s eating can have negative side effects. As my teacher, Pam Estes, M.S., R.D., C.D., commented: “Restrained children become food-preoccupied and prone to overeat every chance they get. The fear of being hungry drives their eating.” There is a beautiful metaphor that I learned from my teacher, Rabbi Nivin, which helps explain this nutritional theory. He explains that our physical and spiritual makeup can be compared to a horse and rider. The horse represents our bodily desires; as the rider, it is our responsibility to tame those bodily desires so that the horse and rider can move in unison. How does one go about training a horse? By building a trusting relationship with the horse over time, with patience and love. Then, slowly, you can begin to put on the halter, bridle and saddle. While it is clearly important to set limits for our It’s important to build our children’s trustchildren, it is also important to build our children’s trust. This principle extends to feeding as well. Especially when they are very young, our children need to know that we are going to provide them with consistent and nutritious meals and snacks. Over time, we can start to explain the nutritional qualities of different types of food, and set more limits. Instead of focusing on what we don’t want our children to eat, let’s focus on what our children can eat, and try to present the food in an appealing way. Children eat poorly when parents cross the lines and try to force their children to eat certain types of food or certain amounts of food. And studies have shown that 75 percent of overweight infants and toddlers slim down on their own.4Children definitely need limits and boundaries around food, but it is important to know that they also do an excellent job at regulating their own food intake.
Aliza has a bachelor’s degree in Clinical Nutrition from the University of California, Davis, and a master’s degree in Public Health from Ben Gurion University. She recently finished a course in nutrition education and counseling through the Ellyn Satter Institute. She lives in the northern Negev of Israel with her family.
Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Judaism 101
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What Is It?The most important items in the synagogue are the Torah scrolls that reside in the ark at the front of the sanctuary. Handwritten in ink on parchment, these scrolls are read regularly during the prayer services. People donate Torahs to synagogues to celebrate milestones, memorialize loved ones, or just because they are needed.A Hachnasat Sefer Torah is the celebration that centers around the welcoming of a scroll to its new home. It’s a really big deal, akin to a wedding. In fact, the entire town skips Tachanun (penitential prayers) that day in celebration. Now, don’t get stressed over pronouncing that term (hach-nas-at means “bringing in of,” and Sefer Torah means “Torah scroll”). You can also just call it a “Torah celebration” or “Torah parade.” Before You GoThis program often will include some outdoor marching and dancing, so make sure to plan accordingly. If you will be taking a small child or another person who has difficulty walking, you may want to bring along a stroller or another mode of transport. Also, if the weather necessitates it, consider taking sunscreen, a hat or an umbrella (rain is a sign of blessing, so it’s all good).Since this is a Jewish event, dress as you generally would for synagogue services. For guys, this means some nice clothes and a kipah to cover your head. For women, a modest dress or top and skirt is ideal. What to Expect:There is precious little in the way of absolute protocol for these celebrations, so things can vary, but there are generally four parts:a. The Finishing of the Letters: In the donor’s home or another convenient location, invited guests will take turns assisting the sofer (scribe) to fill in the final words of the Torah scroll. Sometimes the assistants will be allowed to actually fill in the letters on their own, but often they symbolically hand the quill to the scribe and let him do what he does best. Once the last of the ink is dried, the scroll is lifted for all to see, and dressed in its velvet mantle, silver crown and pointer. 
Completing a Torah in Skokie, Ill.
The parade was led by a special retrofitted firetruck, complete with a crown to mark the occasion.
A new Torah being welcomed in Skokie, Ill.
Welcoming a new scroll to Chabad of Hoboken, N.J.
Some things you may have been embarrassed to ask:Who is invited? Generally, the parade and dancing are a communal event, and everyone is invited to participate and observe. The finishing up of the letters and the celebratory meal are often—but by no means always—smaller affairs.Do men and women celebrate in the same way? All Jews are invited to celebrate with the Torah. Even though the guys will be the ones to hold the Torah, men and women are encouraged to give it a kiss during the parade and participate in the march. Also, upon arrival to the synagogue, chances are that the men will enter the men’s section of the sanctuary, and the women will enter the ladies’ section.  Does it cost money? Generally not. However, it is a great merit to contribute financially to a new Torah scroll, thus fulfilling the biblical obligation for every Jew to write a Torah scroll. Often communities will offer sponsorships for letters, words, or even entire sections of new Torah scrolls. So don’t feel the need to pay to come (really!), but contributing is a good thing if you can.What do I say? Since this is a Jewish milestone celebration, the proper thing to wish the donors and other involved parties is “Mazal tov!” Can I take pictures? These events are rarely on Shabbat or a Jewish holiday. As such, there should be no problem with snapping a few pics with your phone or camera. Do I need to stay the whole time? Nope. Feel free to come late and/or leave early if you need to. 
Completing a Torah in Clearwater, Fla.
Some good resources for further research:An overview of the customs and practices associated with this eventA father’s lighthearted account, detailing his experience taking his kids to a Torah parade An emotional account of the celebration surrounding a Torah dedicated by a Holocaust survivor in memory of his family Videos, letters from the Rebbe and other miscellaneous items related to this celebration
Rabbi Menachem Posner serves as staff editor for Chabad.org.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Features
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 Psychology and Chabad ChassidismIn seeking to achieve a healthy mental life, classical psychology’s central questions are “What’s the problem, and what caused it?” In Freudian psychoanalysis, the answer is found in the early life of the subject, particularly in relation to his or her parents.Other schools of psychology change the focus and instead ask, “What’s the solution?” or “How do I fulfill my potential?” Chassidic philosophy’s central question is “What’s my purpose?”1 The Rebbe Rayatz (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn, 1880–1950) once related that he heard from his father, the Rebbe Rashab (Rabbi Sholom DovBer Schneersohn, 1860–1920), that our “what for,” our purpose, is the very soul of our existence.2 Until we discover what our unique contribution to the world is meant to be, we are merely subsisting, not really living, and certainly not living purposefully. The following well-known story, related by the Rebbe Rayatz, illustrates the chassidic emphasis on finding one’s purpose: In 1798, the Alter Rebbe (Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, 1745–1812) was arrested by the czarist regime on trumped-up charges of subversion. One of the government officials, who was proficient in Tanach and well-versed in Jewish matters, asked the Alter Rebbe a number of questions, among them the meaning of the verse “G‑d called out to Adam saying, ‘Ayekah—where are you?’”3 “After all,” the minister asked, “didn’t G‑d know where Adam was?” When the Alter Rebbe cited Rashi’s explanation, that G‑d was merely using the question to initiate further conversation with Adam, the official replied, “What Rashi says, I already know. I want to hear what you say about this.” To which the Alter Rebbe responded, “When a person reaches such-and-such an age (citing the official’s actual age), the Almighty asks him, ‘Where are you? Do you know the reason for which you were placed in this world, what it is that you have to accomplish, and what you have already accomplished?”4 There is also a lesser-known story about one of the disciples of the Alter Rebbe who had been a very wealthy man, and who shared his wealth generously, but had suddenly lost everything and was now deep in debt. He traveled to the Alter Rebbe and poured out his bitter heart. The Alter Rebbe heard him out and then lifted his head, saying in a singsong (as was his holy custom), “You fully articulated everything that you need. But about what you are needed for, you have said nothing!”5 Soul Powers and PurposeSo in order to truly express our soul, which is a “part of G‑d Above,”6 we must understand “what we are needed for.” The problem is, of course, that we don’t come with individualized instruction manuals describing the purpose of our lives.It is a basic tenet of chassidic thought (and indeed of Jewish thought in general7) that G‑d desired to create this lowest world so that we can make it into a dwelling place fit for the King—a dirah be-tachtonim—as explained in Tanya and in numerous chassidic discourses. This gives us the general direction we should be heading in, but not the specific role each individual is given in achieving this goal. However, the Torah declares explicitly that G‑d gives us the power to accomplish great things,8 and our sages add that “the Holy One, blessed be He, does not make unreasonable demands on His creatures.”9 In other words, He doesn’t demand things from us that He has not equipped us to fulfill. It follows that by examining the strengths and talents with which we are uniquely endowed, we can gain some insight into what it is that we were put here to accomplish. Of course, the soul is endowed with all the soul powers discussed in Kabbalah and Chassidism; nevertheless, on the individual level, some qualities are more dominant than others. For example, the quality of chesed (kindness) dominated in Abraham, and the quality of gevurah (severity) in Isaac, although they both had the opposite quality as well, albeit in a less dominant manner. It is also true that some strengths and talents may be latent, and will become revealed only as we develop, or when we—through hashgachah pratit, divine providence—face a challenge that requires us to draw that strength or talent up from the hidden recesses of our soul. Furthermore, it is also true that our talents and strengths can change and develop over time. We are not born with immutable talents and abilities. We can always acquire new ones, and further develop the ones we have. Nevertheless, some of our strengths and talents certainly are revealed and can readily be identified by others as well. It makes sense to say that these are the ones on which we ought to focus initially in order to begin to clarify our life’s mission, since they are the ones that are (currently) dominant in us. The mission of Betzalel, for example, was clearly to be the chief builder of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), as he and his assistants were endowed with the wisdom and talents needed for that purpose: G‑d spoke to Moshe saying, “See, I have called out by name Betzalel, son of Uri, son of Chur, of the tribe of Yehudah. I filled him with G‑dly spirit, with wisdom, insight and knowledge, and with every skill [needed] to weave designs, to work with gold, silver and copper, stonecutting and woodcarving—to perform every craft. And I have assigned Aholiav to be his assistant . . . and I have endowed the heart of every wise-hearted person with wisdom, so that they shall make all I have commanded you . . .”10Does this mean that by focusing purely on our soul powers, we can heal our psychological ills? What about trying to uncover and correct our deficiencies? The chassidic approach is to focus more on developing and utilizing our strengths than on battling our inadequacies, to work with the positive and the uplifting, rather than the negative and the emotionally draining. As the Tzemach Tzedek (Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch, 1789–1866) said, quoting the Talmud, “We are day workers”11—we work on increasing the light (day), rather than trying to drive out the darkness.12 This does not mean that the negative qualities and desires that we all have are entirely useless. On the contrary, as the Rebbe writes in HaYom Yom: Every soul has its particular avodah (service), in the area of intellect and emotions, in accordance with that soul’s nature and character. It is written:13 “From my foes have You given me wisdom”14—from the evil tendencies one detects in his natural traits, he can become wise and know how to handle the correction of these traits, and how to subordinate his powers in the service of G‑d.15Nevertheless, the manner with which we deal with the negative traits ought to be as that of a “day worker,” as described above, and as the Alter Rebbe writes: . . . So it is in the conquest of one’s evil nature: it is impossible to conquer it with laziness and heaviness, which originate in sadness and in a heart that is dulled like a stone, but rather with alacrity, which derives from joy and from a heart that is free and cleansed from any trace of worry and sadness in the world.16So through utilizing our G‑d-given soul powers, and through subordinating our negative traits, we can become aligned with our purpose. Not doing so can lead to feelings of frustration, discouragement and discontent. And as the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn, writes in a letter, “If a person does not feel his purpose, he does not use his G‑d-given potential. This is not merely a personal loss and failing. Rather, it affects the fortunes of the entire world.” 17 Through becoming more in sync with what our neshamahs were brought into this world to accomplish, we can begin to heal ourselves and the entire world.
Rabbi Moshe Miller was born in South Africa and received his yeshivah education in Israel and America. He is a prolific author and translator, with some twenty books to his name on a wide variety of topics, including an authoritative, annotated translation of the Zohar. He has developed a
Artwork by Sefira Ross, a freelance designer and illustrator whose original creations grace many Chabad.org pages. Residing in Seattle, Washington, her days are spent between multitasking illustrations and being a mom.
FOOTNOTES
1.
This is also the central question asked by Viktor Frankl, a Jewish Holocaust survivor who lived in Vienna after the war, the founder of Logotherapy. In a letter to Dr. S. Stern-Meraz, the Rebbe expressed his surprise that Dr. Frankl’s Logotherapy had not been widely adopted in the world of psychiatry (Igrot Kodesh, vol. 26, letter 9707).
2.
Sefer ha-Sichot 5696–5700, pp. 169ff. Translated into Hebrew as an addition to Kuntres Shivat ha-Torot she-Amar Moreinu ha-Baal Shem Tov be-Gan Eden Im Biurim (Kehot, 1992).
4.
Likkutei Sichot, vol. 1, p. 73.
5.
From Sefer ha-Sichot 5707, pp. 123ff. See the rest of the story there.
7.
See Midrash Tanchuma, Nasso 16 and Bechukotai 3; Bamidbar Rabbah 13:6.
9.
Talmud, Avodah Zarah 3a.
10.
Exodus 31:1–6.
11.
Talmud, Eruvin 65a.
12.
Likkutei Dibburim, vol. 2, p. 210b, and notes there; HaYom Yom, 29 Tevet.
14.
Literally rendered, “Your commandments made me wiser than my enemies” (Rashi, Metzudat David).
15.
HaYom Yom, 8 Nissan.
16.
Tanya, ch. 26.
17.
Igrot Kodesh, vol. 18, letter 7014.
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Features
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After more than 60 years, I still have a strong image of the phantom classroom in the basement of my Boro Park public school. I don’t recall how I knew that this classroom existed. I never really saw the students. I just knew that they were there.
One day, when my peers and I were playing in the basement lunchroom, I asked who had left food wrappers on the table. Someone replied that it must have been those “strange kids” from the basement classroom. Someone pointed out their classroom as we walked by. I tried to see who was in the room, but the door was closed. It was always closed each time that I passed it. In the seven years that I went to P.S. 131, I never did see any of those “strange kids.” But I always wondered who they were, and why they were hidden away. Fast forward about 25 years. A dear friend asked me to drive her to visit her daughter in upstate New York. She explained that at a young age her daughter had a very high fever. After that, her daughter was never able to function beyond the level of a three-year-old. When she reached age 15, her parents were unable to deal with her violent outbursts, and placed her in an institution. Tall mountains and lush forests surrounded the institution, tucked away in the Catskill Mountains. Arriving at the institution filled me with sorrow. Four or five large buildings surrounded a small playground. There were bars on many of the windows. Very little grass, trees or flowers grew. Despite the beautiful summer day, no one was outside, except a young man who just seemed to be wandering around aimlessly. My friend pointed out a small building in the distance: it was the schoolhouse. I recalled the phantom classroom at P.S. 131. I brought my friend to see her daughter each summer for several years. I never went inside, but instead dropped her off at the door of one of the largest buildings. Each year, as I drove around the area, I wondered why I never saw anyone outside. It was very eerie. One year, my friend asked me if I wanted to meet her daughter. I was afraid of what I might see inside, but I didn’t have the nerve to tell her that. “Of course I do,” I responded as enthusiastically as I could. The sorrow and dismay that I felt when I walked inside is indescribable. The place was clean, and there were some pictures on the wall. The room we walked into was exceptionally quiet, even with approximately 50 people in it. As I looked around, I realized why it was so quiet. People were sitting in chairs and wheelchairs around the perimeter of the room. Some sat quietly, staring into space. Some mumbled quietly to themselves. Others walked around the room as if in a daze. A television was on, but no one was watching it. Walking back to my car, I again thought about the class of children in the basement of my school. They were no longer phantoms to me. They were real people. How many of the adults that I had just seen had been in similar classrooms? Would their lives have been much different if there had been the idea of inclusion all those many years ago? The answer is a resounding “yes!” Today, children and adults with disabilities are integral members of our society. Children attend neighborhood schools, camps and social activities; adults are employed in the workforce and are included in a wide variety of social events. We have learned that when people with and without disabilities live and interact together, everyone benefits.
Elaine Rubinoff, M.A., M.S. Spec. Ed., has spent 50 years working with students of all ages, in regular and special educational settings. Her passion is providing teachers with the necessary skills and techniques to enable their students to reach their full potential.
The Ruderman-Chabad Inclusion Initiative (RCII) is dedicated to building on the philosophy and mission of Chabad-Lubavitch by providing Chabad communities around the globe the education and resources they need to advance inclusion of people with disabilities. RCII engages Chabad’s network of human and educational resources to create a Culture of Inclusion so that all Jews feel welcomed, supported and valued throughout their entire lifecycle.
Artwork by Sarah Kranz.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Story
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Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745–1812, founder of Chabad Chassidism) was raising money to ransom Jewish prisoners.
He went first to a city that was famous for its miser. It seems that this stingy man, despite his considerable wealth, was loath to share his blessings, no matter how worthy or urgent the cause. Rabbis and beggars alike avoided his home. Anyone who did unwittingly end up on his doorstep was offered a single rusty copper coin, which even the most desperate pauper would promptly refuse. When Rabbi Schneur Zalman arrived in the town, the elders of the community graciously received him. But when he announced that he wanted to visit the house of the miser and wanted two rabbis to accompany him, he was met with serious resistance. The rebbe was adamant, however, and they finally acquiesced and gave him the escort he requested. The next afternoon the three of them were standing in front of the miser’s mansion. Before knocking on the door, the rebbe turned to his companions and requested that they not utter a word, no matter what they hear or see. Several moments later they were sitting in the luxurious front room, and the owner was returning from his safe with a small velvet money pouch. “Yes,” said the rich man. “A touching story indeed! Widows and orphans in captivity. Ah, the suffering of the Jewish people! When will it all end? Here, Rabbi, take my humble donation.” To the miser’s surprise, the rebbe seemed pleased by the gift. He was actually smiling at him warmly as he put the coin into his pocket and said, “Thank you, Mr. Solomons. May G‑d bless and protect you always.” The rebbe then proceeded to write him a receipt, adding all sorts of blessings in a most beautiful script. “Thank you again, my friend,” said the rebbe as he stood and warmly shook the man’s hand, looking him deeply in the eyes with admiration. “And now,” he added, turning to his two companions, “we must be on our way. We have a lot of collecting to do tonight.” As the three rabbis walked to the door, the rebbe turned and bade his host yet another warm farewell. “You should have thrown it back in his face,” hissed one of the rabbis after they heard the door close behind them. “Don’t turn around and don’t say a word,” whispered the rebbe as they walked down the path to the front gate. Suddenly they heard the door opening behind them and the miser calling: “Rabbis, rabbis, please come back for a minute. Hello, hello, please, I must speak to you, please . . . please come back in.” In a few minutes they were again sitting in the warm, plush drawing room, but this time the rich man was pacing back and forth restlessly. He stopped for an instant and turned to the rebbe. “Exactly how much money do you need to ransom these prisoners?” “About five thousand rubles,” the rebbe replied. “Well, here is one thousand… I have decided to give one thousand rubles; you may count it if you want,” said the miser as he took a tightly bound stack of bills from his jacket pocket and laid it on the table. The other rabbis were astounded. They stared at the money and were even afraid to look up at the miser, lest he change his mind. But the Rebbe again shook Mr. Solomons’ hand, warmly thanking him, and wrote him a beautiful receipt replete with blessings and praises, exactly like the first time. “That was a miracle!” whispered one of the rabbis to the rebbe as they left the house and were again walking toward the gate. Once more the rebbe signaled him to be still. Suddenly the door of the house again opened behind them. “Rabbis, please, I have changed my mind. Please come in once more. I want to speak with you,” Mr. Solomons called out. They entered the house for a third time as the miser turned to them and said, “I have decided to give the entire sum needed for the ransom. Here it is; please count it to see that I have not made a mistake.” “What is the meaning of this?” wondered the rebbe’s astonished companions after they had left the rich man’s home for the third time that evening. “How did you get that notorious miser to give 5,000 rubles?” “That man is no miser,” said Rabbi Schneur Zalman. “No Jewish soul truly is. But how could he desire to give, if he never in his life experienced the joy of giving? Everyone to whom he gave that rusty penny of his threw it back in his face.”
A popular teacher, musician and storyteller, Rabbi Tuvia Bolton is co-director of Yeshiva Ohr Tmimim in Kfar Chabad, Israel, and a senior lecturer there.
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Lifestyle
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Putting pastrami in egg rolls may not make for authentic Asian cuisine, but it sure tastes good. As does the sauce. Trust me, once you taste this, you will never go back to dipping in plain old duck sauce.
 Egg rolls are not the simplest thing to throw together. There are quite a few ingredients and steps, but none of it is difficult; just a little messy and possibly time-consuming.  You’ll need to make some decisions before you start:
 Some other changes you can make:
 Egg Roll Ingredients
Egg Roll Directions
Sauce Ingredients
Sauce Directions
Miriam Szokovski is the author of the historical novel Exiled Down Under, and a member of the Chabad.org editorial team. She enjoys tinkering with recipes, and teaches cooking classes to young children. Miriam shares her love of cooking, baking and food photography on Chabad.org’s food blog, Cook It Kosher, and in the N’shei Chabad Newsletter.
© Copyright 2016, all rights reserved.
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Lifestyle
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Roni Pinto explores religious and philosophical themes through the use of Hebrew letters in her work. She received a BA in art at Ben Gurion University in Israel, attended visual art college in Israel, and has taught art and Hebrew for the past 10 years at a Jewish day school in NY. As a professional artist, Roni has shown her work across Europe and New York and has had the opportunity to learn about other cultures. Pinto lives and works in New York.
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News
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Chabad.org’s app team released a new Android app tailor-made for the tens of thousands who turn to master teacher Rabbi Yehoshua B. Gordon for his daily classes in Chumash with Rashi, Tanya and Rambam. With simple tabs, where users can access each of the rabbi’s three daily classes, the app creates a seamless learning experience, with the rabbi’s daily videos in one place for easy viewing.
Rabbi Gordon's precise explanations and lucid delivery have brought the joy of Torah study to students around the world. His unique delivery style draws upon a great reservoir of personal experiences, Chassidic stories and anecdotes to make his classes come alive. The Rabbi Gordon App is part of Chabad.org’s growing suite of Jewish Apps, and is being released with a prayerful wish for a complete and speedy recovery for Yehoshua Binyomin ben Miriam. May the merit of the thousands of hours of Torah study he enables plead before the heavenly throne on his behalf. The Rabbi Gordon app can be accessed here: www.chabad.org/RabbiGordonApp Read about the rich history and global reach of Rabbi Gordon’s classes. Read an interview with Rabbi Gordon.
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Chabad.org Magazine - Editor: Yanki Tauber
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