Tag: Rebbe Rashab

  • Beshalach: Light

    Beshalach: Light

    Where the Existential Meets the Non-Existential

    — Samach-Vav Part 10 —

    When we read the story of Exodus in these weekly Torah portions many questions come to mind. The most obvious one being: why in the first place did G-d want the Jewish people to be enslaved and oppressed by the Egyptians (as foretold to Abraham)? After all, it was G-d that created a situation that forced Jacob and his family to Egypt, which ultimately lead to the Egyptian bondage. Why would G-d want to cause such countless suffering to a nation that He loved?

    Which of course is the eternal question of all time: Why is life so difficult? Why do each of us have to endure “Egyptian enslavement” (Mitzrayim constraints) in our personal lives? Why do we have to be “foreigners in a land that is not” ours?

    Even if the actual bondage and subsequent exodus can be explained, the ensuing events that followed the exodus seem equally unfair. Okay, after 210 years under Egyptian oppression the Jewish people finally leave Egypt. But before they can even catch their breath, Pharaoh and the Egyptians regret letting the Jews go, and they pursue them to the point where the Jewish nation is stuck between the pursuing Egyptians behind then and the unrelenting sea before them. Why did G-d lead them to the sea – completely out of the way of travel toward the Promised Land?! Haven’t they suffered enough? They barely leave Egypt, broken, worn out by over two centuries of persecution, let them be – take them to the Promised Land. Why do You – G-d – have to lead them out of the way, knowing that they would now be trapped between the sea and the Egyptians?!

    Even if this too can be explained, it doesn’t end there. The Egyptians drown in the sea, but the difficult journey of the Jews just begins. 43 days after the parting of the sea, they receive the Torah at Sinai. Over the next nine months they build the portable Temple (Mishkan), which is erected on Rosh Chodesh Nissan (almost a year after they left Egypt). Then they begin a long, arduous wandering through the Sinai Wilderness.

    And after all the forty years of wandering – which comprises the rest of the entire Torah (all the four books from Exodus through Deuteronomy) – one would think that the story has a happy ending. But no – that would be asking for too much… The entire generation that left Egypt (save two people), including the great Moses, never enter the Promised Land. They all perish in the wilderness.

    The only “comfort” we perhaps can glean from these events is that reading the story of the Bible makes our own lives look not that bad. Challenge after challenge, from one darkness to the next, disappointment after disappointment – even when you feel you have found redemption you are thrown right back into the lions’ den – and then some.

    The Bible is an incredible reflection of real life.

    But is this our destiny? Are we doomed to a life of constant struggle? After all our great achievements will we ever enter the “Promised Land”?

    ***

    What is Torah? The word Torah means instruction, and also light. As discussed many times, the Torah is not a story or history book. It is a blueprint for life – bestowed to us by the Cosmic Architect of life.

    The Torah’s account of the exodus from Egypt (which begins in these weekly chapters and continues till the end of the five books) is actually a fascinating study that can teach us volumes about our own personal passage from darkness to light in every which way – the journey from fear to courage, from pain to joy, from confusion to clarity, from tension to resolution, from insignificance to purpose.

    Above all – beginning from the root of all existence – the Torah narrative describes the process of creation and the very dynamics of existence. The characters, places and events in the Torah lay out the basic building blocks of reality. In essence, the Torah is as spiritual map, which evolves and manifests into a historical narrative that transpires in a particular time and space. The rule is that things always begin in the spiritual and then take shape in the material.

    The Egyptian exile is the physical manifestation of the great tzimtzum – the original “black hole” created by the concealment of the Divine light, as explained in Lurianic Kabbalah. Every form of darkness – every misaligned state and displacement, every form of injustice and oppression – is a result of the tzimtzum. When the Divine light/energy emanates, everything knows its place in the big picture; everything feels part of one integral whole. Man would be unable to raise arms against man if we sensed that we are all one.

    Essentially conscious life as we know it is initially a state of darkness, and we must search for light and for meaning. We begin with our eyes closed, and work toward opening them.

    The purpose of this concealment is not to torture us, but to bring the best out of us to fulfill the purpose of existence: To reveal the light and transform the very darkness of matter into a luminous source of spiritual en

    ergy – creating a Divine home in the lowest of worlds.

    Following the tzimtzum, Luria continues, comes a kav, a thin ray of light that transmits energy into the “black hole” and begins to bring existence into being, as discussed last week.

    Our hard work of refining this unlit world draws light from the kav and refines the “containers” of materialism. As the “containers” become more honed and the light grows in intensity we come closer to filling the “dark space” until the point when matter gets reunited with spirit, in one seamless flow, and in turn introduces new unprecedented dimensions of the Divine.

    This process, which in microcosm is reflected in every life’s up and down journeys, is the entire story of the exodus from Egypt and the subsequent events, the parting of the sea, Sinai, the Temple, and the forty year trudge through the Wilderness. Each step expresses another stage in the process of illuminating and transforming the void and the tzimtzum, and turning the universe into a Divine home.

    After the Jewish people leave the dark Egyptian exile – and after the kav begins to illuminate the great dark void left by the tzimtzum– the light of redemption begins to expand.

    Once could argue that perhaps we should be satisfied, relieved that we escaped from the clutches of darkness; why ask for more? But no. Simply to get out of the constraints is not enough reason and cannot justify the pain caused by the enslavement.

    As G-d told Abraham, after your children will be “enslaved and oppressed” as “foreigners in a land that is not theirs,” they will “leave with great wealth” – they will come out stronger and greater than when they entered.

    Thus, we move from Egypt to the Re(e)d Sea. The sages explain that the parting of the sea was an unprecedented Divine revelation. In Kabbalsitic terms: Sea reflects the “hidden worlds” originating from the Divine infinite light (ohr Ein Sof). Land manifests the “revealed worlds” stemming from the Divine finite light. These two dimensions, on a lower level, express the two levels of “lights” and “containers,” the inner and the outer – soul and body, spirit and matter.

    The parting of the sea – when the “sea was transformed to land” – opened a door between the finite and the infinite, and bridged the two, giving us a taste of the seamless pre-tzimtzum reality.

    This too, however, is not enough to justify all the pain. “Great wealth” includes much more than a taste, and even more than a full meal even of the pre-tzimtzum unity. Because after all, this seamlessness existed before the tzimtzum, so what is ultimately achieved by returning to square one?

    And so – we go from the kav into the light before the tzimtzum. In perhaps the single deepest Chassidic discourse ever delivered, the Rebbe Rashab, 100 years ago this week, takes us on a fascinating journey into the pre-tzimtzum reality. The Rebbe takes us on a trip – as only a Rebbe can – into the vortex of reality, as it was at the moment of the first “bang” and even earlier (conceptually, not in time).

    And how far can we go? How deep does the “rabbit hole” really go?

    Come let’s find out.

    So, working our way from existence upward – deconstructing, as it were, the process of creation – first we have a tzimtzum, a profound concealment that is the very nature of existence as we know it. We feel alone; a sad state of existential loneliness. Separate form each other, separate from ourselves – a lonely dark world, which has potential for inflicting great pain and misery. All rooted in disconnection.

    But this tzimtzum is not airtight. It has a purpose, and is driven by a concealing force – to allow space for our independent consciousness, so that we can build the Divine home in the lowest of levels.

    Following the tzimtzum comes the kav – the ray of light transmitting light and transcendence. The kav is a paradox: It is only a ray, but a ray that touches and is rooted in the pre-tzimtzum light. As opposed to the tzimtzum which is a state of detachment, that conceals the light, the kav is a state of attachment that reveals the light; albeit, a very thin ray, but a ray of light nonetheless.

    Now we move upward, into the light itself and its source.

    Here the Rebbe Rashab cites the differing opinions among Kabbalists as to the nature of the Divine Source of all existence and its relationship with our experience of existence.

    “Ein Sof” – literally, “no end” – is the term used to describe the Infinite Source. The question is: what exactly is Ein Sof?

    Ibn Gabbai and other Kabbalists maintain that Ein Sof is not the Divine Essence but a level “below” the Essence – the level of Keter (the crown), or the level of Divine Will (Rameh of Pano). The Ramak (Rabbi Moshe Kordovero) however disagrees, and holds that Ein Sof can be attributed only to the Divine Essence and nothing else, not even the most sublimes levels of spirit. Keter, according to the Ramak, is the loftiest level, but still one of the defined Sefirot – the building blocks of existence.

    The Rebbe Rashab explains that each opinion has its strengths and weaknesses. The first opinion explains how the creation process does not affect and change the Divine Essence, because the process begins and is related not to the Essence but to the state of Ein Sof (Keter or will), “below” the Essence. It also explains why we call it “Ein Sof” and not “Ein Techilo” (no beginning), because this level is infinite in its extension, but it has a Source (a beginning) – the Essence from where the Ein Sof” stems.

    The obvious flaw in this opinion, as the Ramak emphasizes, is that we are attributing a state of absoluteness, permanence and eternity to something other than G-d alone. Only the Divine Essence, as the Ramak correctly explains, can be called true Ein Sof – an absolute reality that has no source and no beginning, one that is undefined by any definition, including the term “undefined;” a non-existential existence.” As opposed to everything else that exists, including Keter and the most sublime states of spirit, G-d has no cause other than Himself; nothing preceded Him; His being derives from His own self. G-d’s existence must exist, for it is true reality. And therefore the Ein Sof power to create comes only from the Essence, and not from any other level.

    But according to the Ramak, we are still left with the question how creation (which comes only from the Ein Sof power of the Essence) has no effect and causes no change in the Essence.

    Comes the Arizal and reconciles between the two opinions. The Arizal says (Eitz Chaim gate 42) that Keter has two dimensions: The higher one (Atik) manifests “the lowest level of” Ein Sof. The lower level (Arich) is the “highest level of the” defined states of the sefirot.

    Explains the Rebbe Rashab that the Arizal clearly recognizes that there is some “entity” outside of the Essence which is called Ein Sof (unlike the Ramak). Yet, this level is higher than and beyond Keter and will (unlike Ibn Gabbai and the Rameh).

    What “state” can be called Ein Sof and yet not be the Essence?

    The answer is given by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi. In perhaps (if one can be bold enough to say) his greatest contribution, Rabbi Schneur Zalman, states that this is the level of “light” – ohr. Light combines both substance and no substance: it has no substance of its own; it always reflects its (luminary) source. Yet, precisely because of its transparent bittul (selflessness), light purely reflects and channels the deepest ‘substance’ of the source, with no ‘personality’ of its own to get in the way.

    Thus, the Divine Light is Ein Sof, not by its own virtue, but because it is merely a reflection and emanation of the Ein Sof of the Essence, with no substance and existence of its own. (see The Physics of Chanukah and Chanukah Lite).

    This state of ohr (light) allows us to reconcile between both opinions: Ein Sof is attributable only to the Essence (as the Ramak explains), but since light has no reality without the Essence and is a mere reflection of its source, the Divine Ein Sof extends into its reflected light. This also explains how creation causes no change in the Essence, because the process is implemented not through the Essence itself (as Ibn Gabbai and the Rameh explain), but also not by a force outside of the Essence: Creation is possible only through the Ein Sof power of the Essence, carried through the power of light, which is a mere emanation of the Essence.

    In effect, light “carries” the non-existential Essence into existence. Light is a bridge between the non-existential and the existential, and serves as a backdrop – like an invisible blanket – where the entire process and all of existence plays itself out.

    So this completes the circle: Light is the manner by which the Essence imparts its Ein Sof quality to existence. This light will go through many stages of evolution – it will divide into the infinite light and the finite one, and then undergo further levels concealment and revelation, and finally become the source of the narrow kav following the tzimtzum, which in turn will go through further stages of concealment and revelation.

    And this light is also the manner by which we climb the ladder, reversing the steps and returning from matter to spirit, from the containers to the light. We climb via the kav into the pre-tzimtzum light, and that in turn leads us into the Ein Sof of the Essence reflected in the light. Since light is completely selfless and only reflects its source, it also bridges the final gap between the existential and the non-existential Essence.

    In the language of the Torah narrative: We have the power not only to leave our constraints (Egypt), and to taste the interface between the finite and the infinite (parting of the sea), and then to marry heaven and Earth (Sinai), and then to build a home below for the Divine (Temple) – but above and beyond all that: we actually have the power, through light, to fuse the existential and the non-existential, the most conscious states of our defined lowly existence with the undefined Divine Essence.

    However, this fusion is achieved through a process — the journey through the “wilderness” of life and all its challenges, trials and tribulations. At times we may feel stuck, confused or wandering. But these difficulties are a manifestation of the tension between matter and spirit, the finite and the infinite and the existential and the non-existential. And all the work we do to bridge the two helps pave the way toward the “Promised Land” — when we mortals become united with the Divine.

    To do so we must become like light, and transform our containers into light; we must become embodiments of absolute bittul: An existence that clearly exists, but is nothing more than an extension of a reality greater than ourselves.

    And once we suspend ourselves and become channels to the Higher Reality – we can become extensions of the Ein Sof of that Reality. Bittul cannot become botul. The invisible cannot disappear.

  • Flames

    Flames

    The Anatomy of the Soul

    — Samech Vov 100 Years – Part Six —

    JERUSALEM, 24 Kislev, The day before Chanukah

    After discussing the unprecedented (undefined “supra-conscious”) energy generated through the human struggle with darkness, this week of Chanukah one hundred years ago, Samech Vov begins to dissect the dynamic nature of the soul, which is compared to a flickering flame, apropos to Chanukah the festival of lights.

    Understanding the very nature of the soul’s light, energy and source of inspiration will help us appreciate the difficult work of extracting and redeeming the “sparks” embedded in the darkest places, specifically once the initial spiritual inspiration wears off.

    And with this the Rebbe Rashab begins an extensive and intricate discussion on the significance of “avodah be’koach atzmo,” the enormous power of self-generated human initiative spawned from below (not one that originates from above) which lies at the heart of the very purpose of creation and its ability to introduce into our lowly world unprecedented Divine energy from the Essence Itself.

    As we prepare to enter Chanukah, there is a beautiful way to enhance the menorah lighting, as suggested by the Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak: “We should listen to the flames,” to the story that the Chanukah lights are telling us.

    The Chanukah flames tell us many stories. They reveal to us much about our own souls, which are compared to flames – “the flame of G-d is the human soul.”

    Following are some profound lessons about the flaming nature of the soul derived from this week’s Samech Vov discourse.

    The obvious parallel of the soul to a flame is its constant motion. Just like a flame flickers as it rises and falls, so, too, a soul by its very nature is transcendent, reaching upward only to be drawn back below, in the dual dance called “rotzo v’shuv,” yearning and returning, or tension and resolution. Like a flame, the soul aspires to reach upward, only to be tugged downward by the grounding wick. And so the soul is always on the move – in an ongoing state of dynamic motion, continuously fluctuating between the two poles.

    However on further reflection the question arises: Is the soul inherently mobile or is the natural state of the soul actually calm and peace, with an unwavering sense of fulfillment, which does not fluctuate? If so, what causes the soul to flicker?

    This brings us back to the soul/flame metaphor. We cannot say that the soul is defined only by it being the “flame of G-d” because the first description of the soul in the Torah (at the beginning of Genesis) actually defines the soul as G-d’s breath: G-d formed the human from “the dust of the earth. He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the human became a living soul.” Indeed, the word for soul in Hebrew is “neshomo,” which also means breath (as in the breath of life).

    Breath and fire are totally different entities. Among the four central elements – earth, water, wind, fire – wind (breath) is a different dimension than fire. [Ruach in Hebrew can be translated as breath, air, wind or oxygen. Therefore the term is used here interchangeably].

    So which one is it: Is a soul flamelike or windlike? The answer is both: The soul has both dimensions, ruach-breath and neshomo-fire. [The soul actually has five dimensions, starting from the lowest: nefesh – biological life; ruach – emotional life; neshomo – intellectual life; chaya – transcendent life; yechida – the unified essence of the soul].

    Here, too, we can understand the soul’s dynamic by “listening to the flames.”

    A flame needs oxygen (air) to ignite and remain lit. Proper ventilation (ruach) is necessary both for the flame to burn and that it burn smoothly, flickering as it consumes the wick.

    The (inner) reason for this is because the inherent nature of fire is to expire into its source above, and not descend at all. Unlike wind whose nature is to rise and fall and spread about. Wind currents rise, but do not rise to the point of expiration, and they also descend.

    The same applies to the fire and breath dimensions of the soul. Spiritual fire on its own completely expires and disappears into oblivion as it is engulfed by its source. This is the yearning in the world of Tohu, as experienced by the sons of Aaron: Consumed by their love for the Divine, their souls expired in ecstasy.

    By contrast, the yearning and fire of the soul from the balanced world of Tikkun, is fire imbued with the “breath of G-d.” The level of ruach keeps the flame from expiring, as well as ensuring that the flame descends to the wick. Above all it maintains the poise of a smoothly burning soul and balances upward transcendence and downward integration, the tension of yearning and the resolution of returning.

    Without the windlike inspiration of the “Divine breath” the soul’s fire will not have the power to come ablaze with passion. The flame may exist but only in a concealed state, which can be easily extinguished by the “wind” of the animal soul. The light needs to be ignited by the inspiration that comes through the “breath” – the level of Aaron the High Priest who kindles the Menorah.

    These two dimensions of the soul are similar to the two components of the supra-conscious state of the soul: Taanug (pleasure/fulfillment) and Rotzon (will) – as discussed in a previous part of the Samech Vov series titled, The True You. The undiluted dimension of fire, whose essential nature is to be absorbed upward into itself, is akin to taanug, the inner pleasure which is an internal state. The breath dimension of the soul, which consists of movement, is comparable to rotzon, which extends and reaches outside of itself.

    On a lower level, this is also the difference between intellect and emotions. Pure intellect is isolated and separate from any outside force. It turns inward into the essence. A true intellectual is not affected by outside disturbances. Emotions, on the other hand, are fundamentally driven by movement – extending or being drawn outward to express a feeling or fulfill an emotional need. In contrast to intellect, emotions are affected by forces outside of itself.

    This will explain the Talmudic statement about Chanukah, that the mitzvah is to “place the Chanukah lights at the door of the house facing outward, on the left side of the door, so that the Mezuzah is on the right and the Chanukah menorah on the left”:

    The light of Chanukah is the light of Torah that has the ability to illuminate the darkness and the severities of the “left side.” However, to ignite the flame of Torah and the flame of the soul we need the power of mitzvot, the mezuzah on the right, which are like the wind of emotions and that will cause the flame to burn – “the candle of a mitzvah” generates “the light of Torah.”

    All this however, is the power of the soul that is generated by the “wind” of inspiration from above, which imbues the soul with energy to move to and fro. But the ultimate goal, is to generate energy through our own efforts.

    After all is said and done, inspiration can only go so far. Every inspiration dissipates after a short while. So as powerful as the inspiration may be at the time, once it fades away we have to exert ourselves with our own energy to generate the flame.

    And it is this hard work which defines the ultimate purpose of creation.

    [In context of the weekly Torah portions: After Jacob gathers strength in Laban’s home and builds his family, he is ready to encounter the battle with raw Esau-materialism. In Laban’s home the soul was inspired and imbued with the ruach. Now comes the hard work].

    As we enter into Chanukah and prepare to kindle the flames, remember to listen closely to the story that they tell.

    The flickering flame is your flickering soul, which needs spiritual oxygen to inspire it to yearn to great heights and return to tell about it.

    When you kindle the flames you are affirming your mission in life:

    We each have the responsibility to kindle flames – to inspire the flame of our own soul and the soul of others. To breathe life into our own experiences and into the lives of the people you come in contact with.

    Furthermore: Even after the light burns out and the inspiration dissipates, we are charged with the task to generate our own light and illuminate the darkest crevices of the world.

    Chanukah gives us light, but also the challenge to face the darkness of the night and the street – and transform them.

    As you light the Chanukah Menorah open your eyes, cup your ears, and listen. Listen to the flickering flames and the story of our lives.

    Listen to the flames, and your life will never be the same.

  • Simchat Torah: Rise Up

    Simchat Torah: Rise Up

    Inspiration from Simchat Torah a Century Ago

    Simchat Torah 100 years ago (corresponding to October 22, 1905) was a very difficult time for Jews in Russia. That October ended with a wave of anti-Jewish pogroms that engulfed the country: Pogroms in over 660 (!) cities and towns in Belorussia shattered thousands of lives. Following the dreadful pogroms in Kishinev and Gomel in 1903, these massacres left the Jews deeply demoralized, and were the major cause of the first Russian Jewish emigration to America at the turn of the 20th century, with hundreds of thousands of Jews arriving at the shores of this country.

    The regions hardest hit by the pogroms were the Minsk, Mogilev and Chernigov gubernii (districts), which were densely populated by 221,000 inhabitants, 28,531 of them Jews.

    This area was also home to the fifth Chabad Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Dovber, known as the Rebbe Rashab, who at the time lived in the town of Lubavitch, which served as the heart of the movement since 1813.

    How did the Rebbe celebrate that challenging Simchat Torah?

    His son, (who in 1920 would become) the Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak, writes that in that year Simchat Torah night “my father delivered a discourse for four hours,” from midnight to around 4AM. “Then we went to [dance] Hakofot in the shul.”

    Rebbe Yosef Yitzchak committed to paper the entire discourse (22 pages in print), which begins with the verse:

    “I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dripped with myrrh.” (Song of Songs 5:5)

    The next day, Simchat Torah afternoon, the Rebbe Rashab delivered another discourse, titled:

    “When [or: because] Israel was a child I loved him.” (Hosea 15:1)

    This is in addition to the fact that in that difficult year, one century ago, the Rebbe Rashab began his historic Hemshech Samech Vov (see Centennial of a Revolution).

    Is this the way a responsible Rebbe responds to the crisis of his time? Wouldn’t it have made sense that the Rebbe should have been running for cover and warning his constituents of the looming pogroms?

    Instead, the Rebbe celebrated Simchat Torah, and indeed the entire year, with providing one of the most fundamental discussions on life and purpose.

    This should not surprise anyone. Throughout the history of Jewish persecution, Jewish leaders time and again responded not by wringing their hands and cowering in fear. Instead, they intensified their scholarship, prayer and spiritual growth; they deepened their commitment to virtue and chesed; they increased their mitzvot and adherence to tradition. Indeed, some of the greatest works of Torah scholarship were composed “under the gun,” whether it was Rabbi Akiva during the Roman Empire, Rashi in France or the Arizal following the Jewish expulsion from Spain in 1492.

    The most powerful response to tragic events was – never one of resignation, fear or defeat, but – always a defiant demonstration of the power of the human spirit, able to face any challenge. All the terrible events in history led to unprecedented growth and enormous contributions in scholarship and virtue. And the gains – not the losses – are what live on forever.

    Samech Vov was no different. The pogroms and unbearable circumstances gave birth to a memorable Simchat Torah and a revolutionary discourse that would forever change the way we look at life.

    And what did the Rebbe Rashab discuss in his 4 hour all-night Simchat Torah discourse?

    Briefly, he explained that “I rose up to open to my beloved” captures the essence of the human endeavor to get beyond the deception of the world in which we live and take advantage of special opportunities.

    “I rose up to open to my beloved” refers to a window of opportunity that opens up for us in special times. “My beloved” is a powerful level of Divine energy emanating from the Essence, which appears intermittently – only in unique times. This opening will close if we do nothing about it. We have to rise up and “open” a door, i.e. create a container that will retain the energy.

    “I rose up” refers to the power within each individual soul (the “I,” ani), that allows one to transcend and “rise up” above the din and deception of life – and see beneath the shrouds that conceal the true reality of our souls and our lives.

    You “rise up” by not being seduced by material and egoistic trappings, by not getting stuck in the static of “mind games” and the resistance of intellectual defense mechanisms. You “rise up” by allowing your “I” (your self) to be inspired by the enchantment of spirit and bond with the Divine Unity that lies within all of existence, which allows you to see beyond the here and now.

    We live in a deceptive world; a deception in consciousness in which we do not recognize the true nature of our own lives. Conformity results from being caught in the tentacles of this deception. Independence is possible by looking above and beyond.

    Both scholars and laypeople each have their own particular challenges in seeing through the blinding forces of materialism, and both need to connect to the sublime through study of the Divine Torah. “My hands dripped with myrrh” refers to the “hands” of laypeople immersed in manual labor. Through their meditation and study of the Divine they not only see beyond the concealment; their hands “drip with myrrh” which transforms a bitter substance to a beautiful fragrance.

    Though the Rebbe Rashab doesn’t spell it out, it seems quite logical that Simchat Torah is one of these extraordinary windows of opportunity. No doubt that this 4 hour discourse had a powerful impact on the Simchat Torah Hakofot that followed 4 o’clock in the morning a century ago. With all the destruction brewing outside that cold Russian October 1905, the Rebbe and his Chassidim must have danced a dance of spirit that would be the envy of any one of us…

    Today, we too have challenges. Thank G-d not like those of 1905 Russia. Then the Divine concealment was clothed in shrouds of pogroms. The darkness created the deceptive illusion that goodness was vanquished. Today, our greatest adversary is complacency – the shrouds of apathy that naturally arise from comforts.

    We can learn much from Simchat Torah 100 years ago. Above all we can derive the inspiration to appreciate our blessings of freedom and “rise up to open to my beloved” this Simchat Torah in a Divine dance of body and soul, lifting ourselves and the entire world to new heights of transcendence.