PUTTING THE “SPIRIT” BACK INTO SPIRITUALITY

What to write to the Rebbe? What do you mean? This is your Rebbe! Write what’s on your heart. Write what you want, what you need, and what you feel.

The aging Rebbe called over his loyal disciple and told him: “I want you to travel to a certain village.” The Rebbe did not explain the purpose of the trip, nor what the Chasid was expected to do there. Yet all of this would have been superfluous; in no time the loyal Chasid was on the road to the unknown, with no question in his mind, focused only on his single-minded devotion to his Rebbe.

The Chasid spent a few uneventful weeks in the small village, until one day a message arrived for him that it was time to return home. His return trip was permeated with the same unquestioning obedience to his beloved Rebbe, peppered with his eager anticipation of their meeting after the lengthy separation. Upon his arrival, his Rebbe greeted him warmly, and asked him to repeat a Torah thought that he had heard during his stay.

The Chasid was shocked. “A D…D…D’var Torah?!” he stuttered. “Rebbe, all I saw there were simple villagers, most of whom could barely read!”

But the Rebbe was insistent. “It is inconceivable that over a few months you did not hear a single D’var Torah.”

The Chasid stood there racking his brains, until finally he recalled the following vort that he had overheard from the local village melamed, and he proceeded to share it with his Rebbe:

“In the t’filla of Barchi Nafshi (in T’hillim, and said in davening every Rosh Chodesh), there is something peculiar: Dovid HaMelech gives a detailed description of many of the wonders of creation. He addresses every single detail, from creatures to plants to wonders of the climate, and then there is a pasuk that sums it all up: ‘Ma Rabu Maasecha Hashem Kulam B’Chachma Assisa’ [How manifold are Your deeds Hashem, all of them You have created with wisdom]. The difficulty is that this pasuk does not seem to be in its proper place; it would seem to belong either in the beginning of the chapter as a preface to what follows, or at the end of the entire kappitel as a fitting conclusion to the theme of the kappitel. Instead, the pasuk is found right in the middle! Following it, the listing of the details continues as before. There seems to be no rhyme or reason for its placement!

“The melamed went on to answer his own question:

“He explained that this Pasuk was in fact not part of the kappitel, not part of the “script,” for the kappitel was only intended to be a description of all of the wondrous things Hashem does. But in the middle, Dovid HaMelech was so overwhelmed by all that he was saying, that he momentarily left the “script” and broke out in a spontaneous cry of ‘Ma Rabu Maasecha Hashem.’ Then he resumed his recitation until the end.”

When the Chasid concluded, his Rebbe told him: “It was in order to hear this very D’var Torah that I had sent you to the village!”

These days, with the unpopularity of old fashioned p’nimius, there sometimes appears to be a disproportionate preoccupation with the “script.” “What is the Chassidishe thing to do in such-and-such a situation?” and “What is the chassidishe way to act or react?” or “What would be the chassidishe look to cultivate?”

At the same time, there is an increasing amount of disillusionment amongst a growing number of youth that appears to be often connected with their perception of Yiddishkait/ Chassidishkait/ Lubavitch as being a multitude of dry rules, regulations and endless shallow restraints; basically an endless “script” that consists of just lines and more lines.

There is disenchantment with Gemara, especially iyun, which seems to be endless grappling over abstract ideas with no apparent point; again, just more and more script. They are seeking something “more deep,” “more real,” and “more substantial,” not just a lot of lines.

I am not here to lecture you about how the thing they’re seeking is in the place they’re escaping from. But I do want us to consider that perhaps part of the problem is that we are placing too much emphasis exclusively on the “script.”

To be sure, it’s a delicate balance. In Yiddishkait, as well as in Chassidishkait, the minute details, the focus on the particulars, is of paramount importance. We all hear the people on mivtzaim etc. who tell us “What’s the difference if I wrap the straps on my arm or not? The main thing is that I’m a Jew at heart! I am kind and upright, and I donate to the UJA (and maybe a little to Chabad too)!” But of course we know that it makes a big difference. Putting on T’fillin, along with another 612 mitzvos, is the only way to be a proper Jew. Moreover, there are a myriad of minute details, in size and color and material etc., which determine whether or not the t’fillin are Kosher.

Yet, there is room for more of the spirit behind it. There is room not only for doing what I have to do, but for the excitement of the Tzavsa V’Chibur, the connection with the Eibeshter, and everything that goes along with it as well. There’s room for a spontaneous cry of “Ashreinu Ma Tov Chelkeinu” that is felt in the process (and every person in the specific way that he expresses or feels it); a cry that is not necessarily part of the script, but is a spontaneous cry from the heart, because that is what we are feeling, uninhibited by fears of being considered a chitzon or a yesh etc. (because it’s not in the script).

Of course, in Lubavitch there is no lack of spontaneity; in fact lately every important farbrengen or event includes spontaneous dancing (it has become so important to us that it is even included in the schedules, along with the time-limitations, the rules about who may or may not start it, and what should take place then etc.).

And still …

There’s an old saying: “The difference between Chassidim and Misnagdim is that Misnagdim are afraid of the Shulchan Aruch, while Chassidim are afraid of the Eibeshter.” Without doubt, anyone who trifles ch”v with even a Kutzo Shel Yud, with the most minute detail in Shulchan Aruch, is tampering with his connection to the Eibeshter, and the Torah has strong titles for him. But that strict unwavering adherence to Shulchan Aruch was by Chassidim an outcome and expression of their obsession with G-dliness.

It’s not all about “What am I supposed to do,” “What do I have to do,” or “What does the Shulchan Aruch tell me I need to do?”

Rather (after the “Reishis Ha’avoda VeIkra V’Shorsha …”) it’s about what I want to do! I want to be connected to the Eibeshter; I am excited about spirituality, enraptured with G-dliness, infatuated with holiness. The Shulchan Aruch tells me not only what I have to do, but how to get to what it is that I want and what it is that I’m looking for and yearning for.

Therefore, within the framework of Shulchan Aruch, minhagim etc., there’s room for spontaneity, to not just follow the script, but rather express what’s in the heart.

For example: I have often been approached with the question “How do I write a letter to the Rebbe?” While here, too, there is a balance, it has to be in proportion. No one ever asked me “What should I say in a conversation with my best friend,” or “What should I ask my father for when I speak to him?” If a bachur needs money, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him what to do or say; he gets on the phone and says “Ta, send me money.”

What to write to the Rebbe? What do you mean? This is your Rebbe! Write what’s on your heart. Write what you want, what you need, and what you feel.

To be sure, there are certain guidelines that Chassidim use in writing to the Rebbe, but you have to keep things in perspective, because all of those guidelines are of secondary importance. There have been many people who wrote letters to the Rebbe that “broke all of the rules.” But they wrote from the heart. And they enjoyed a phenomenal relationship with the Rebbe as well as wondrous responses to their letters.

And someone else may write a letter according to all of the customs and traditions, but…

In this week’s Parsha, as the Yidden were at the threshold of entering Eretz Yisroel, the long-awaited climax to everything that they had experienced in their entire history thus far, the representatives of two tribes approached Moshe Rabbeinu with a bizarre request: Let us remain outside of Eretz Yisroel! Moshe Rabbeinu himself was outraged, and spared no words in telling them so, even likening them to the most sinful of their ancestors.

But they didn’t back down; they maintained their position that if only Moshe Rabbeinu will permit them to do so, if only it can be considered legal, they would like to stay outside of Eretz Yisroel and are prepared to pay a price to get their request granted.

Chassidus explains that their desire to remain in Ever HaYarden stemmed from their need to serve Hashem in a particular manner, which could only be realized outside of Eretz Yisroel.

Now, picture this situation: The Jewish nation is about to realize its destiny. They are all aware by now (having learned the sichos and maamarim of the past few weeks…) that this is the ultimate way of serving Hashem and the only way to realize the purpose for which the world was originally created. And suddenly, a group of people get up and demur: “We have a different avoda.”

I think it’s pretty clear how everyone must have looked at them: Misnagdim! Nifradim! Chitzonim! Liars! Baal Taava’niks! Moshe Rabbeinu himself said as much.

But they weren’t concerned with the “script,” or how they would be viewed. Their sole concern was how to best serve Hashem with THEIR souls, with THEIR hearts, with THEIR feelings. If only that would be sanctioned by Moshe Rabbeinu, then anything else was inconsequential.

[I once heard that in the relatively early years in 770, there was once a visitor who was a Chasid, but when it came to davening, he davened in the manner of Chagas Chassidim, jumping and gesticulating with his hands etc. Naturally, the bachurim found it strange, and some of them (who happen to be today from the ziknei hamashpi’im) began deriding him as a chitzon etc.

R’ Mendel Morozov was there as well, and he was slightly older than the rest of them, old enough to have witnessed an earlier generation of Chassidim and to know that there can be different expressions of Avodas Hashem within the framework of Lubavitch. He rebuked the bachurim, saying: “How do you know that it’s chitzonius? Why can’t there be another way of davening, even if it’s not your way?”

The end of the story in our Parsha revealed that indeed the script allowed for their deviation. Yes, Chassidus and sichos explain that their remaining in Ever HaYarden was vital for the success of their brethren who would enter Eretz Yisroel. Yet their request stemmed from their, perhaps, flexibility. They had the ability to focus not merely on the “script” but on the calling of their own heart and soul as well.

We often hear the question: What should my Hachanos for Yud Shvat, for Yud Aleph Nissan, for Rosh Hashanah be? To be sure, there is a need for tangible and practical Hachanos. There is a benefit to some script as a frame of reference. But don’t attach disproportionate importance to the script.

Follow your heart and soul. Be spontaneous!

Do a random act of Chassidishkait! Do a spontaneous act of chassidishkait, of Ahavas Hashem, Ahavas Yisroel, or Ahavas HaTorah. Don’t lose the focus on the spirit, the soul, of your Yiddishkait.

L’chaim! May we all be spontaneous in our expressions of love to the Eibeshter, concern for our fellows, hiskashrus to the Rebbe and more. And may Hashem be spontaneous in His expression of His connection to us, by bringing about the hisgalus of Moshiach Tzidkeinu Teikef U’miyad Mamash!!!

Hatzlacha Raba!!

From a written farbrengen directed towards Alumni of Yeshivas Lubavitch Toronto