The Basic Premise of the Chabad Educator, Memories from 770 | Rabbi Menachem Dubrawsky #002

00:00 Speaker 1 What is the basic premise of a Chabad educator? And how do you manage to get up every morning with a genuine sense of mission in education? For this episode, I sat down with Rabbi Menachem Dubruskin, a mashpia at the yeshiva gedolah in Migdal HaEmek, a Chassidus lecturer, and someone who had the privilege of being one of the Rebbe’s chozrim. We went deep into education and heard his memories of those days in 770. I’m Meir Vishnapsky, and you’re listening to On Chabad Education. Rabbi Menachem Dubruskin, welcome.

00:25 Speaker 2 Thank you for having me. Shalom u’vrachah.

00:28 Speaker 1 It seems that today, in our world of education, there are so many approaches: psychology, all kinds of different techniques. But if we peel all that away, I’d like us to understand what the basic premise should be for Chabad educators. In other words, what sets Chabad educators apart? What is that basic premise?

00:55 Speaker 2 We all remember the Baal Shem Tov’s words: every Jew is as precious to Hakadosh Boruch Hu as a baby born to elderly parents in their old age. We cannot fathom the affection and love Hakadosh Boruch Hu has for every Jew. Those of us who have the privilege of teaching and educating, and who remember what we learned in Tanya about what a Jewish soul is, what a Jewish child is—what it means to connect with a student and help shape a person who is developing in the right, positive direction—believe with all our heart and soul that Hashem has entrusted us with the most wonderful diamond, and that we have the ability to help that child. Is there anything greater? The more deeply we absorb the idea that every Jew is literally a part of G-d above, and that the younger a child is, the closer they are to their essence, to that pure, clean, innocent place, the more we appreciate what has been placed in our hands: the opportunity to take this Jewish spark, this diamond, this sapling, which Hakadosh Boruch Hu says is literally a part of G-d above. After all, we come into the world in a body, with an intellect and emotions. Helping shape these things properly is an extraordinary privilege. A person should get up in the morning with a smile: I’ve been privileged to do the most important work, to fill the most important role. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is asking me: Help My children, who are literally a part of G-d above, so that this diamond will shine and they can become everything a Jew can be in this world.

02:41 Speaker 1 So you’re saying that, as educators, we need to begin by reflecting on the privilege we have: taking that soul, that diamond, and working with it. The question is what helps us translate that into practice. Because in the midst of life’s pressures—as parents too, since parents are also educators; or as teachers with a whole class, or in a yeshiva, where a mashpia or a maggid shiur influences many students—where does it actually come into play?

03:18 Speaker 2 When a person lives with that inner point every day. Chapter 42 of Tanya and chapter 2 of Tanya aren’t slogans for a sermon or a lecture. If you truly live with them, when you see a Jew, you see someone who is literally a part of G-d above. You see a child and say, “This is a child Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought into the world to reveal Him, to reveal Hakadosh Boruch Hu.” If a person lives with that awareness, then even under pressure—and there are many situations involving students and problems in the classroom—we can use our mind to rule our heart and say, “Wait. I’ve been privileged to work with a child who is an only child to Hakadosh Boruch Hu.” Chassidim like to put it more personally, in terms of a Rebbe and a chossid. We all know the story in which the Alter Rebbe called a chossid and said to him, “Let’s trade places. You have a mitzvah to support your family, and I have a mitzvah to teach the children.”

04:15 Speaker 2 “Let’s trade places.” And the teacher asked the Alter Rebbe how he should teach, and so on; the story is well known. But if the Rebbe calls me and says, “I have an only child, and I trust you to be his teacher,” then if that student sometimes has an outburst, or acts up, or I catch him doing something inappropriate, clearly I’ll look at him differently. It’s like when I come to a parent-teacher meeting and get a less-than-positive report about one of my children. That can happen; something happened here or there. Immediately I think, “Wait, but I know how capable this child is, how pleasant he is, how good he is. He had a setback; he stumbled.” In other words, what we learn in Tanya is that the inner point is the stronger point. We know how to say that about ourselves: “I made a mistake. It was a mistake. I stumbled. Deep down, I’m much better than what that particular incident shows.” All the more so when we’re talking about children and young people, who are also dealing with life’s struggles and challenges and are still forming their personalities—with assignments, tests, and so on. When we remember this, keep it in mind at every moment, and live with it as a fact, it becomes easier to handle even the moments that require us to step into a role, take charge, and manage the situation with authority, while at the same time feeling the soul of the matter. Authority is sometimes good, but authority and love go together. Authority without love, or love without authority—when you bring the two together, there is primarily chesed, with gevurah in the right measure, just enough to maintain the proper framework.

06:10 Speaker 3 Friends, another episode of On Chabad Education is beginning. If you connect with what’s happening here, click Follow on one of the platforms. The more our community grows, the more we’ll be able to bring in special guests and produce content of the highest quality. Be part of the journey. Let’s continue. Today we’re in 5786. Many of the directives and ideas we received, and that became established in Chabad education over the years—I’m talking about Tomchei Temimim, and even earlier, the chadarim and Tomchei Temimim—a lot of time has passed since then. The years have gone by, and we live in a world where everything moves very, very, very fast. The stories we hear about the yeshivos, about Tomchei Temimim in Lubavitch and all that—is that relevant now? Does that idea you mentioned, of seeing the diamond, work today?

07:04 Speaker 2 The idea is eternal, and truth is eternal. The way it is presented sometimes changes. In everything we’ve learned and every story we hear, there is the soul of the matter, and there is the way it is presented. What form does it take today? For example, take kabbolas ol, or a more Chassidic concept mentioned in the Rebbe’s sichos. About fifty years ago, on the last day of Pesach, the Rebbe spoke about this, and that began a period of the education campaign. It’s fifty years since the education campaign, right around now. The Rebbe then introduced and taught us the Twelve Pesukim, in those days at the beginning of Iyar. On the last day of Pesach, the Rebbe delivered a sicha about the essence of Tomchei Temimim—a sicha that every student at Tomchei Temimim would do well to study. It is also printed in the additions to Likkutei Sichos, volume 11. By the way, the Rebbe told his brother-in-law, the Rashag, “I worked on this sicha all night.” It begins with nigleh and Chassidus; it is a very foundational sicha. At its heart is the idea that a student at Tomchei Temimim must set himself aside—set aside his very self. Those sound like lofty words. It means you have to be bittul: what you are asked to do, you do. You don’t come with a fixed image of yourself. One person pictures himself as an oved; another sees himself as unfortunate; another sees himself as a person of fine character. The foundation of it all is setting aside your very self. The Rebbe said this in 5736, not in [?] or in 5780, to students who are with us today, people around seventy years old. The Rebbe established it as a foundation and explained it. This point—that a person remembers, “I was created only to serve my Maker”—is his essence. It is a basic premise that is true and eternal. It is relevant now, applicable now, and very modern, very, very modern for today. The way it is presented—how do I present these ideas?

09:04 Speaker 2 So what is required of you? Do you need to learn this or that, to learn how to approach things? The demands change from generation to generation. Every generation has its own demands. The demands in the Rebbe Rashab’s time were not the same as the demands for mesirus nefesh in the generation of the Frierdiker Rebbe, or in our generation. But the essential point is setting oneself aside: I am in this world for a higher purpose. I was created only to serve my Creator, and I am simply raw material. Whatever is required, that is what I do. If I’m required to learn, I learn. If yiras Shamayim is required—what’s the question? That is who I am: a person with yiras Shamayim. After all, this world comes into being from a Divine world. People mistakenly think that what happens outside contradicts what is inside. Where do the things happening outside come from? We learned in Tanya that everything happening outside is a result of what happens inside. In other words, technology and the world have developed, and the world has become more modern, because deeper revelations have come about in Torah and in Chassidus. As a result, the world develops too. So that cannot be something negative or contradictory. We need to know how to handle things properly and how to adapt. On the contrary, seeing the world advance shows us that we have the spiritual capacity to advance. If the physical world has advanced, how much more so can the spiritual world advance, many times over. As we learned at the beginning of Tanya, the physical world developed from the spiritual world. Physical progress is a result of that, and so the demands are the same. How exactly should these things be put into practice? That is what the mentors, educators, and mashpi’im explain. Today we don’t demand that a student daven for five or six hours, but we do expect

10:54 Speaker 2 a student to take davening seriously, to daven unhurriedly, and not to talk about idle things before davening. To take davening seriously, to put effort into the meaning of the words, with vitality and joy. For one person it takes an hour; for another it takes less, and for another, more. On a weekday or on Shabbos. But that is the approach to davening, and the same applies to every detail. It has to be adapted to the people involved. Even in Lubavitch, which we talk about, there were three or four hundred students. So the exceptional stories people tell weren’t true of all four hundred. They were all serious, but some bochurim were more so and some less, each according to his abilities. We have grown used to saying, “We don’t belong to what there was in the past.” We belong to all of it, and to much more. How it is expressed and the form it takes may differ. But the inner, essential point remains: all we have is the inner drive to do Hashem’s will and fulfill the Divine intention. The one motto of a chossid is, “I was created only to serve my Creator.” His joy lies in serving Hashem and in being connected to the Rebbe’s instructions, trying to stay connected to them every day and every moment. It is a joyful demand, a demand full of pleasure, a very happy demand. What exactly should you learn, and how? Read, and ask the rav you have chosen and your mashpia.

12:16 Speaker 4 Let’s take something like bittul. We spoke about setting oneself aside; now let’s take bittul. As I remember and understand it, bittul simply means nullifying myself. I need to, so to speak, make room. How does that fit with something I see a lot today—that choosing for oneself brings vitality? Especially in adolescence, when a student needs to become separate from his parents, he comes and says, “I chose this.” Suddenly there is a lot of vitality; it isn’t just mitzvos done by rote. How does this idea of bittul go together with strength, vitality, intention, and desire? How do they fit together?

13:03 Speaker 2 Your question is three-quarters of the answer. Bittul—but what needs to be nullified? All the negative things. We don’t tell a person to nullify who he is. There is no such thing in Chassidus. When you open a book of maamarim, Likkutei Torah, or Tanya, what do they mean by bittul? A person should nullify those aspects of himself that are less positive. He has a bad habit, an ego, selfishness. A negative ego—not a positive ego. A positive ego is something very positive. We’re now after Pesach. On Pesach we eat matzah. Chassidus explains that matzah represents bittul, and we drive out and remove the chametz so as not to be arrogant or self-important. In the words of the Rebbe, [unclear][?]. Immediately a question arises: wait, if chametz is so problematic, why do we eat it for ninety percent of the year? For one week of the year we talk about bittul: don’t own chametz; have matzah. Sell it to a non-Jew, remove it. We say, “May it be Your will that just as I removed the chametz, You remove all those who oppress the Shechinah.” But as soon as Pesach passes—on the last day of Pesach we already eat gebrokts, and the day after Pesach we’re allowed to eat things that are the opposite of matzah. On Shavuos, they even brought the two loaves of bread in the Beis Hamikdash. So what is it that we are removing? When we speak of removing chametz, we mean removing the negative ego. A person has a negative ego and a positive ego. A negative ego means I want to step on someone else, I want to stand out and not let the other person stand out, and I want the less positive parts of myself to spread and become prominent. But if a person uses his abilities and his power of choice—“I chose to learn Torah now. I chose to help another Jew for a moment. I chose to do this.” Why did I choose it? Because it is Hashem’s will. I chose it because I understand that this is my shlichus, because I know that this is my shlichus. I

14:59 Speaker 2 don’t want to submit to things that are not my shlichus. I do this out of an inner choice. That kind of self-awareness is positive. In the language of Chassidus, the ultimate bittul is the ultimate selfhood. Bittul applies only to negative things. Ask anyone, “Would you like to get rid of your arrogance?” He’ll say, “Yes, I want to free myself of it. I wish I could take it away.” The problem is that sometimes we want to hold on to some less positive things. In an honest moment—not some confession in the middle of the night—anyone would say, “If I could have some of my bad habits taken away, please do.” The bittul spoken of in Chassidus means nullifying those things and strengthening who I really am. Who are you really? Someone with good middos, who loves Hashem and loves another Jew, someone pleasant and kind. That’s you. You want to do good things? What does that mean? “I want to do things that will bring the Geulah.” Strengthen that, strengthen it, strengthen it—as much as you can. Nullify the part of you that looks for other things. It’s just the opposite; the two go very well together. It’s excellent. Where there is bittul—Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was the embodiment of bittul. He said of himself, “I am a sign in the world.” His companions said of him, “You are holy”; when they saw him, they saw Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He was nullified to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He nullified everything that is not who we really are. Then a person becomes his true self, who he really ought to be. When you tell someone to give up eating unhealthy foods, you also tell him to eat very healthy foods. Make yourself a salad and get the nutrients you need. Eat, eat. What are you...? Nullify the things you don’t want anyway, the things you know are bad for your health. And on the other hand,

16:46 Speaker 2 nowhere does it say you have to fast instead of eating good things. On the contrary, eat what you need to eat—at the right time, in the right place, and in the right way. Chassidus doesn’t say, “Nullify yourself and don’t eat.” Don’t eat the things you know harm your body and soul. But the things you should eat—go ahead, embrace them, eat, do what you need to do. The same is true of everything. We don’t tell a person not to go on a trip. Go at the right time, in the right way, and to the right place. Remember that even on a trip, “A person’s steps are directed by Hashem.” You are on a shlichus even while traveling, and you went to rest a little for the sake of your inner purpose. But we don’t tell a person, “Don’t travel, don’t sleep, don’t eat.” Bittul means nullifying the things that keep you from eating properly, from learning properly, from davening properly, and from fulfilling your shlichus properly.

17:34 Speaker 5 …

17:36 Speaker 2 It’s practical, it’s relevant, and it’s possible. Everyone feels at some point that when they set aside some of the negative things, they can suddenly become much more aware of themselves inwardly and accomplish much more. A person constantly needs to ask: From where am I speaking? There’s a saying in Hayom Yom, volume two [?]—a beautiful saying; I don’t remember the exact reference—that a person needs to remember: Am I speaking from my G-dly soul? From my intellectual soul? From my natural soul? From my animal soul? From the yetzer hara or the yetzer tov? In other words, set aside the things that prevent you from speaking from your G-dly soul, from your yetzer tov. But when you do speak from that place, speak with strength. “His heart was elevated in the ways of Hashem,” and “I will walk with freedom.” Since the sin of the Tree of Knowledge, though, good and evil have been mixed together. So very often we think we’re speaking with the force of holiness, but a little of the force of the ego gets mixed in too. That’s not simple work. We have to keep paying attention, so that there’s more strength coming from holiness and less coming from ourselves. Sometimes we put a label on it, but in our hearts we know that’s not quite where the force is coming from. That’s why we have this world: to work, to correct things, to begin again each day. We work at it; we try.

18:56 Speaker 5 This past Pesach I met up with friends, people who studied with me in yeshiva. Today they’re all married, baruch Hashem, with children. There was one young married man there. Later we sat together and talked some more, stayed a little later, and eventually got onto this subject. “I’d like to hear what you think about this,” he told me. “The Rebbe, yes—the whole enterprise, the whole shluchim enterprise, with all the guys who go out on shlichus and open Chabad Houses in Israel and around the world, wherever. I don’t feel part of it right now. I mean, I have money; I give toward shlichus. But personally, I don’t feel part of it.” That reminded me a little of the idea of bittul. We said that bittul isn’t absolute; it doesn’t mean erasing yourself completely. But what would you say to those young married men—to that one young married man, that one fellow? I don’t know what it’s like for others, but what would you say to someone who lives with that feeling? He’s married, he has children, and he says, “I don’t—I apparently don’t find my place if I’m not doing that specific shlichus, the one we were educated for, grew up with, and admired—and still admire.” So what happens?

20:09 Speaker 2 But shlichus is wherever you are. The world wasn’t created only for Torah scholars, or for rabbis, or for educators. The world was created to have shoemakers in it, and people in high tech, and lawyers too. The world needs all of them, and all of it is a Divine mission. The question is how you go into it. If you go to your office in Tel Aviv and say, “Wait—I’m going here, and of course I have to do my work faithfully. But I’m really here on a Divine mission: through my conduct, through my ability now and then to bring a Torah thought into the conversation, to remind someone about a mitzvah”—then you’re on that same shlichus. Hashem has granted you a livelihood through a particular means, but you get up in the morning for your shlichus. Even going to work is part of that mission: to support your family with dignity and abundance, to give maaser joyfully, or a fifth joyfully. And at work itself, you live with a sense of shlichus all the time. It all depends on your awareness. There’s a passage in Hayom Yom about the Rebbe Rashab speaking to a chossid, Reb Eliyahu Avner, who had a kiosk, a stall in the market in those days. The Rebbe Rashab told him, “I envy you. You’re in the market, and you remind Jews to come to a class in Ein Yaakov and to come to shul for Minchah and Maariv. You reveal G-dliness in the market; you are the shliach of the higher purpose in the market.” What does “I envy you” mean? The Rebbe Rashab is saying: “I’m in Lubavitch, and Hashem has given me my shlichus—a soul from Atzilus, and so on. I envy you because your shlichus is somewhere else.” That isn’t just encouragement. There’s something real here too. Every person has received their own shlichus. The point is: What do you get up for in the morning? If I get up in the morning just to look after my own household, there’s a problem. If I get up for a higher mission, and my higher mission is to be

21:59 Speaker 2 in an office and do my job—as a doctor, a lawyer, or someone in high tech, whatever Hashem has blessed me with—but in my mind I say, “I need to sanctify Hashem’s name. That’s my purpose.” And if someone comes to ask me something spiritual in the middle of work, I make time for them. Every so often I know how to bring the group together, share a Torah thought, and give them a class or hold a farbrengen. My very conduct as a Jewish chossid who fears Heaven is a shlichus—and I succeed. I think we know hundreds and hundreds of Jews whom we’ve seen succeed tremendously in their shlichus right where they are. Each person has what Hashem gave them. Some people have merited that kind of shlichus, while Hakadosh Boruch Hu has placed others on shlichus in the very place where they earn their living. That too is shlichus. We are all on shlichus. Some, by Hashem’s kindness, have merited to spend their whole lives on shlichus in a Chabad House or in the world of education. Fine. But shlichus belongs to each and every person. When you get up in the morning, you get up for shlichus. Anyone who doesn’t get up with a sense of shlichus needs to go back to Tomchei Temimim for a crash course. What is life about?

23:06 Speaker 5 So I’d like us to return to the first subject. If you had to choose one sentence, one basic principle in a line or two, for every young married man taking his first steps in the world of shlichus, in the world of education—what would it be? What would that sentence sound like?

23:23 Speaker 2 “His work is the work of Heaven.” That’s what the Rebbe would write to every educator working with children or young people—to a person who had merited that role. The Rebbe would write it to him by hand, or the Rebbe would write in the heading, “The esteemed chossid, a G-d-fearing man,” and so on: “His work is the work of Heaven.” His work is the work of Heaven. There’s work, and there’s a person who lives on earth and whose work is earthly. Fine; he deals with earthly matters. Then there are those who have merited that their work is the work of Heaven. They deal with heavenly matters. What are heavenly matters? Revealing a Jew’s soul. Engaging in the work of education: “And you shall teach them diligently to your children.” Who are these children? They’re Hashem’s children. He says, “His work is the work of Heaven.” You get up in the morning. You could have stood in the market selling watermelons. You could have worked in an office, listening all day to two people arguing about money and acting as the one to make peace between them, or as the mediating lawyer. You could have worked in high tech—all of these are very good things. But about them, we don’t say, “His work is the work of Heaven.” Your work, your livelihood—Hashem has granted you the opportunity that your shlichus in this physical world, where we are all physical people, is to deal with matters of the soul and spirit. A person gets up in the morning and says, “I’ve merited to have work that is the work of Heaven.” The Rebbe once told a shliach who was going out on shlichus, also in education, “Until now you ate bread from the earth; from now on you’ll begin to eat bread from Heaven.” Even your livelihood will come in a heavenly way. When you remember that and think about it seriously, you want to dance, to rejoice, and to understand the magnitude of the privilege and the responsibility. I remember one time, on 15 Elul, there was a farbrengen, but the Rebbe saw that people hadn’t held enough farbrengens. The Rebbe spoke with some pain: Why hadn’t they made more of the anniversary of the founding of Tomchei Temimim? Among the things the Rebbe said was, “And there are those whose very material livelihood comes from Tomchei Temimim.” So they certainly should have been there too, and

25:20 Speaker 2 You didn’t see them at the farbrengen. I mean, there are people who were educated in Tomchei Temimim. For anyone involved in the holy work of education, Hakadosh Boruch Hu provides an opportunity to teach children. It says about them, “Those who bring merit to the many will shine like the stars”—those who teach children, the children of the house of their teacher. Even if they’re older, already chassanim, it’s a wonderful privilege, and you have to take it seriously. We’re not coming to a factory, G-d forbid, looking at it in material terms as a way to make a living. I’m sure there’s no teacher or educator like that. But if such thoughts do cross your mind—that someone else could earn many times what you earn—remember that you have the great joy of receiving your livelihood from Heaven. What you have is bread from Heaven. You merited to do this work; thank Hashem for it. I once heard a mashpia say: What did a person wish for a few generations ago, when it came to earning a living? He wished to merit being a shamash in a shul. What kind of wish is that? A person says, “I left yeshiva—and now I’m a shamash?” He comes to the shul at five in the morning, arranges the siddurim, prepares tea and coffee for people. After everyone leaves, he tidies up the tea and the shul; in the afternoon he comes back and starts cleaning. Yet people wished to merit being shamashim. That was the best work, even for the little money they received. I’m using it as an example: each person has what Hashem has given him. But someone who has merited to work in education has an extraordinary privilege—not to have to leave Gan Eden quite so much. This world is challenging and interesting enough, and it draws us in. You can spend another day, and another day, in yeshiva, with chassanim, or in a Talmud Torah, in the Rebbe’s institutions.

27:08 Speaker 2 The Rebbe calls it “my vineyard”—my vineyard, the vineyard of our Rebbeim. You have that privilege. So you wake up in the morning already smiling. People going to other workplaces wake up and have to work at smiling. Here, the smile comes easily.

27:23 Speaker 6 And if you miss that point, do you think it has consequences? Not necessarily visible ones—even hidden ones. If I come in just to “punch the clock,” what are the consequences of that?

27:35 Speaker 2 I’m sure there’s no educator like that, but we’re speaking theoretically—suppose, in a dream, there could be such an educator. Then it isn’t just that the main point is missing; everything is missing. If you aren’t personally invested in something that calls for a personal connection, someone comes to have a heart-to-heart conversation with you, and you open a notebook and read him sentences: “I see it says here that in a case like this you do one, two, three.” But I came to talk to a person about something deeply personal! He reads me “one, two, three” and tells me what to do. I wanted him to listen to me. I wanted him to speak with me heart to heart. Suddenly he’s reading me instructions from a book. Anyone dealing with matters of the heart has to give his heart first. And, okay, I don’t want to make claims about psychologists and the like—I don’t know—but a psychologist who works according to the [unclear] he receives cannot succeed. If he’s a person with feeling, a warm person, someone inwardly engaged, who lives in it, there’s a chance he’ll succeed. That’s the essential part that’s missing otherwise. There is a fundamental spiritual and personal dimension here: this is work of the heart. That’s why not everyone is truly suited to it. Some people are better suited to technical things; this is hard for them, and that’s perfectly fine. Hashem gave everyone their own abilities. But someone who comes to this work without that dimension is missing the very point. I once heard about a mashpia who told the Rebbe that he found it hard to speak with students about davening, seriousness, and so on. The Rebbe replied to him in Yiddish, with a particular tone, “Yes, the whole point is missing.”

30:15 Speaker 7 You’re in a yeshiva gedolah today.

30:17 Speaker 2 Yes.

30:17 Speaker 7 In Migdal HaEmek. With students of that age, what do you think? How can we, as staff members, be people who invite that kind of conversation? After all, you don’t put up a sign saying, “I’m here; you’re welcome to come.” Some students find it easier to come over and say, “I want to talk about a particular subject.” How can I, as a staff member, be someone who invites that essential conversation?

30:43 Speaker 2 Generally, when a person tries to be pleasant and sensitive to his surroundings and to the students, more and more students connect with him. It’s a matter of the heart; it’s something you build. It doesn’t happen in a day. Gradually, day by day, more students connect. You have to say a lot of good things to students—and mean them. There’s plenty to say. Don’t be afraid to praise a student out loud and show your appreciation. Slowly, you build a relationship. How do you build one? How does a shliach build a relationship with someone he meets on the street? Once he brings him a little gift for a holiday; another time he calls him; another time he invites him to a birthday farbrengen. He builds the relationship, and suddenly it becomes a friendship. In shlichus, we see that over time shluchim manage to build a circle of supporters, friends, and eventually close friends who really devote themselves. How does it happen? The shluchim put in the effort. They think, “Let’s organize this kind of evening, and that kind of evening.” An educator also has to think creatively: call him once, say a few words another time, learn with him, tell him something, walk home with him—find ways. It’s work. It takes thought, but it succeeds. It succeeds one hundred percent. Not that you reach one hundred percent of the students; there may be a group of fifty or sixty, and one connects with this rabbi, another with that mashpia. But if you put thought into it, you build relationships. As with any friendship, people gradually open up. A personal connection, trust—that takes time. It takes time to build trust, but when you work at it and, with Hashem’s help, daven for it too, a relationship of trust develops. A shliach at a Chabad House doesn’t make friends in a single day either. Little by little, it’s built.

32:24 Speaker 7 During the later years when we merited to see the Rebbe, you served as one of the chozrim. First of all, could you tell us a little about that period, and also about the role itself—what exactly did it involve?

32:37 Speaker 2 To be with the Rebbe is to be in the highest Gan Eden. To be there, to experience being with the Rebbe—you can’t explain what the atmosphere around the Rebbe was like. For us as students, as bochurim, G-dliness was simply real. You were in a completely different world.

32:51 Speaker 7 Which years were you there?

32:53 Speaker 2 I was with the Rebbe from 5747 to 5750. Everything revolved around the Rebbe: a sicha, a maamar. Every week a new Likkutei Sichos booklet came out; there was a farbrengen, maamarim came out, and there was the excitement around dollars. That was life. There was nothing else; that was life. There wasn’t even a thought of anything else. That was our entire reality, and it was truly something deeply felt. Certainly on a Shabbos when the Rebbe held a farbrengen. We would come to 770 in the morning; the schedule began at seven-thirty. On winter Shabbosim, there were times we wouldn’t leave until six or six-thirty after Shabbos. We spent the whole day in 770, learning Chassidus, davening, preparing the Rashi the Rebbe would discuss at the farbrengen. The Rebbe would announce which Rashi he would discuss, so everyone learned it. We would look at what the Rebbe had said the previous year and consider what questions and answers there might be. The Rebbe would announce on Friday or on Shabbos which Rashi he would discuss. On Friday night, everyone would learn the newly published sicha in the small zal from four-thirty to eight-thirty—four hours. I can’t describe what it was like—a fire of holiness.

34:04 Speaker 7 The newly published sicha is, essentially, the sicha of the—

34:05 Speaker 2 No, the likut was the likut in Likkutei Sichos that came out for that Shabbos. The farbrengen from the previous Shabbos would come out, along with a new likut—the kind printed in Likkutei Sichos. So there was the new likut, which gave us an idea of what the Rebbe might speak about at the farbrengen the next day, and there was the farbrengen from the previous Shabbos. That would come out on Wednesday or Thursday morning. It was already printed in the newspaper, so there was time to learn it on Thursday or Friday. The Rebbe would usually announce the Rashi at candle-lighting. And the new likut would come out on Friday afternoon. The holy commotion, the arguments, the energy, the discussions and the close readings during those three or four hours in the small zal—I’ve never seen anything like it anywhere in the world. You could feel the holiness in the air there. Eighty, a hundred bochurim would sit from four-thirty or a quarter to five until eight, eight-fifteen, going back and forth over every detail. Then we’d get up the next morning. Later, we’d wait for the Rebbe to leave his room to eat with the Rebbetzin in the library. In the dining room we’d talk again about the likut—what Rashi the Rebbe was going to discuss, what had been said. That was our life. We’d get up in the morning and learn Chassidus, then daven. The Rebbe would come back home from the library. There was a very short break between davening and the farbrengen. Davening ended at twelve-fifteen, twelve-twenty, and the farbrengen was an hour later. The bochurim, the chassidim, never went to the dining room. They had a little something in 770, made Kiddush and ate some cookies—those airy cookies they had. Then the Rebbe came in for the farbrengen. To be with the Rebbe at a Shabbos farbrengen was... In general, the Rebbe looked different on Shabbos, physically different. His face was rosy, radiant. A few times I brought people to see the Rebbe on Shabbos. Once, a man argued with me that the person he had seen at dollars wasn’t the same person.

36:05 Speaker 2 He said, “Either there was a substitute there...” He told me, “This is the Shabbos Rebbe. The one on a weekday was also some kind of tzaddik, but he wasn’t the same Rebbe.” He was just an ordinary person, a student we’d brought. We were on shlichus for two years. The Rebbe sent us to New Haven, and we spent two years there doing activities at Yale University. From time to time we’d bring students to the Rebbe for Shabbos. This student had first come with us to dollars, and a few months later we brought him with a group for Shabbos. He really argued about it. He said it wasn’t quite the same person, and it took time to convince him. So we’d daven, and then there was the Rebbe’s farbrengen. Whoever wanted to would say l’chaim to the Rebbe between the sichos. Then the farbrengen would end. Rashi, Rambam, Zohar—a farbrengen of three or four hours. Immediately afterward the Rebbe would daven Minchah, and then we’d review the farbrengen. There were reviews in Yiddish and English. I reviewed it in Lashon Kodesh, in Hebrew, for many people who didn’t...

36:57 Speaker 8 How did you come to take on that role?

36:59 Speaker 2 It just happened. I reviewed a little for my friends. Then, little by little, one more person came and then another. Suddenly it became an established thing: people came right after the farbrengen to hear a review. I’d sit on the Rebbe’s farbrengen platform. It was possible to sit there. There’s a video of it, between the two pillars. In Tishrei I’d sit in the small zal, because there were so many people that there was no room there.

37:21 Speaker 8 People would gather around you to hear the—

37:23 Speaker 2 Yes, people who wanted to hear—those who didn’t understand Yiddish, and also people who had trouble hearing. When the Rebbe spoke on Shabbos there was no microphone, and there was a tremendous noise. You had to listen very carefully. Even people who were there found it hard to hear everything, so we’d try to repeat everything we remembered. There were long sichos and short sichos, and you had to remember them. Whatever Hashem enabled me to remember, I repeated. By the time we finished on Shabbos, it was already Motzaei Shabbos. Sometimes in the winter the farbrengens themselves went on until Motzaei Shabbos; they were that long. Then there were the reviews. We’d go to the dining room at six-thirty or seven in the winter and eat the second Shabbos meal, the third meal and Melaveh Malkah together. We ate it all together—it was all one meal. That was the atmosphere. In the summer it was easier, because the farbrengens ended at five or five-thirty. There was still time, sometimes even time to go eat something. Whoever wanted to could finish what he was doing.

38:25 Speaker 8 At that time you were a bochur, right? You weren’t—

38:27 Speaker 2 Yes, yes, yes.

38:27 Speaker 8 And there’s an element of it that there’s a lot of—

38:30 Speaker 2 Yes.

38:30 Speaker 8 But is there one experience from that time that’s deeply etched in you? Those were many years, and a very interesting period at 770. Isn’t there something?

38:44 Speaker 2 There’s so much, but it’s hard to pick one thing. I’ll tell you: to be with the Rebbe, to be there and live there, was G-dliness in the most literal sense. G-dliness, plainly and simply. To see it. You see, when the Rebbe spoke, he was speaking to us. He spoke, and you listened. You could stand three, four, five meters from the Rebbe. In the small zal, where we davened Minchah and Maariv, you could daven Maariv so close to the Rebbe’s siddur. You could stand facing the Rebbe from behind, so close—the Rebbe had his hand on the table, and we were on the other side. It was a small place, a very small place. It was like standing beside the Holy of Holies, and that was every day. That was G-dliness. What else can you call it? With the Rebbe, you saw G-dliness all the time. One of the things about the Rebbe was his consistency: he was always looking into the siddur. Even at [unclear] [?], he looked into it with such seriousness. You could see that G-dliness was absolute truth. You couldn’t mistake it. You saw thousands of people from every walk of life come every Sunday to hear a word from the Rebbe, and you heard what they had to say. And you realized that here, in this room—we’d sit in the small zal, and at night the Rebbe was in his room just three or four meters away. There were times you could hear the Rebbe cough. What was that like? You were learning, and the Rebbe was right there beside you, night after night.

40:18 Speaker 8 You’re thinking about those events now, and it still feels very close.

40:21 Speaker 2 I was close—the Rebbe was three or four meters away. We’d sit in the small zal, and the Rebbe was there in his room all night. The bochurim would sit at night, talking, learning, talking, and the Rebbe was there. The Rebbe was in his room, and the bochurim would come in throughout the night.

40:33 Speaker 8 And really, there are many parallels between those years and the period we’re going through today. With the whole war with Iran, and all the—

40:40 Speaker 2 Not the war—the miracles.

40:41 Speaker 8 The miracles. Right, all the miracles happening in Iran and the neighboring countries. Today we don’t have the privilege of hearing the Rebbe speak about them. What do you think our role is now, at this time?

40:55 Speaker 2 We’re seeing the miracles of the Geulah before our eyes: “As in the days of your exodus from the land of Egypt, I will show you wonders.” We’re seeing miracles twenty, thirty times greater than those of the Gulf War. During the Gulf War, the Rebbe spoke about this in such terms—in a general letter, in yechidus in Nissan. The Rebbe said just to contemplate, to see Hashem’s kindnesses. There were thirty-nine missiles then. Over the last two months there have been hundreds of missiles. Hundreds of sorties flew to Iran, 2,500 kilometers away. Not one pilot was hurt; not one plane was hit. This is a revelation of G-dliness unlike anything we’ve ever seen. “Not a man among us is missing.” Hundreds of sorties, traveling 2,500 kilometers each way, and by Hashem’s kindness, every single one came back. I’ve been to Ramat David several times recently for mivtzoim. We live nearby. Anyone who knows a little about it says there’s no way to explain this. There are statistics; there’s a certain percentage of malfunctions. It’s normal for something to go wrong. In the first strike and the second strike, zero malfunctions. Zero. How can that be? It all began on Shabbos Zachor, in the period of Adar and Nissan, and ended on the seventh day of Pesach. We’re seeing G-dliness before our eyes. So what—does the animal soul have to wake up? It’s true, the generation in the desert later said, “Maybe we should go back to Egypt.” But we’ve already been through all that. Now we understand that we’re in the midst of a revelation of G-dliness that, with Hashem’s help, will soon bring us to the Geulah. May Hashem help that it happen today. We’re seeing it before our eyes, and we need to return Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s embrace: rejoice, give thanks for the miracles, and conduct ourselves in a miraculous way. Hashem is showing you that someone is embracing you; you need to embrace Him back. Someone shines His face upon you; shine your face back. What does that mean in practice? Daven better, learn better, give more tzedakah, go on mivtzoim, speak with fellow Jews—because you’re returning the embrace.

42:41 Speaker 2 They send you gifts. You can’t remain stone-faced, and you can’t let the yetzer hara say, “There were things like this once before.” There weren’t. First of all, there weren’t. Second, why are you cooling off? You’re seeing such great miracles. You’re seeing how the whole world has changed recently. Everyone is seeing a revelation of G-dliness, things you can actually see. Think about it, reflect on it, look at it. It’s so open. Hashem wanted to make Chizkiyahu Moshiach, but he did not sing a song of praise. So sing, give thanks, and let that gratitude be expressed aloud and also in practical terms—in action, speech, and thought. That’s what we need to do. We need to talk about it, think about it, and not let ourselves cool off. The animal soul eats something else, and we eat and cool off. Fine, remember what happened then: they saw miracles, and afterward they said, “Maybe we’ll go back to eating watermelons in Egypt.” Fine, we’ve heard that speech already. Now we want to move forward. There is an animal soul, but remember to see what’s happening, to look today, to open your eyes, look, reflect, talk about it, and bring it into action—so that it brings us to act. One more good deed, one more good deed, one more good deed. One more good deed, and Moshiach comes.

43:44 Speaker 8 Yes, as the Rambam writes.

43:46 Speaker 2 Yes, the Rebbe quoted the Rambam on this all the time. Another deed, another deed, another deed; another Jew and another Jew, and another deed that I can do. Each of us should do these things with joy and vitality. With Hashem’s help, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is with us. Hakadosh Boruch Hu—the Rebbe blesses us, the Rebbe is with us, and we go together with the Rebbe and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It is all one reality. Yisroel and Hakadosh Boruch Hu... The Rebbe conveys to us what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. We are the Rebbe’s body; where the head goes, the body goes with it. We have to do what needs to be done, in a good and positive way. Don’t think about other things, don’t get involved on other levels, and if you fall, get up immediately—get up immediately and return to where you belong. Don’t, don’t, don’t catch any germs. There are still a few germs in the world. Fine, there are germs in Iran, and there are also germs that sometimes roll around in your head. Recognize that it’s a germ and throw it out immediately. Get back up. Fine, the animal soul is still around a little. How much depends on the person, but it’s still there. Fine—but keep your head clear.

44:47 Speaker 9 To close, could you share a tip with us—something in education or in serving Hashem that has been meaningful and works for you? Share it with all of us.

44:57 Speaker 2 One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that every sentence an educator says, if he truly means it, matters. Our Sages tell us about Rabbi Akiva, who at the age of forty saw how water wears away stones. One drop doesn’t break through the rock, but another drop and another drop eventually do. If we speak the truth, words that come from the heart, and say them naturally—say them, say them, say them—they’ll enter the listener’s heart. Just make sure you’re speaking from a clean, genuine place. Repeat it again and again and again. Fine. Good, true things can and should be said a thousand times. If you tell someone, “I care about you,” will he say, “I’m tired of hearing that”? No. If you say something genuine, he hears it. If you have a genuine message and say it again sincerely, it gets through. Sentences spoken sincerely by a teacher, a melamed, an educator, last for decades. Students have reminded me of things I don’t remember saying ten, twenty, or thirty years ago. One told me, “That particular sentence you said—it caught me, and I’ve carried it with me.” That sentence is a shliach. I call the person who said it, and he tells me about a sentence I didn’t remember. He says, “We were passing a certain place, and you said it.” It was something you said from a clean place. You said something pure and let it drip in, genuinely. Don’t get tired; be patient and don’t get tired. Convey the message time after time, once more. If you live with it, convey it again. If it’s artificial, don’t say it even once. But if what you’re saying is true, say it. Say a sentence you mean. And a very, very important point: lift people up,

46:44 Speaker 2 lift them up, lift them up, lift them up, lift them up—elevate them, lift them up. Today, with an approach of kindness and encouragement, you can accomplish a million times more than people once thought possible. You can minimize—and perhaps not use at all—the other approach. You can accomplish everything by lifting people up. It’s like when you tell me something and say, “That’s beautiful”—you’ll see that I listen. If you told me, “That’s even more beautiful,” I’d be even more able to accept it. When someone tells you something in shul, if you respond that way, you’ve given him much more desire to do it. We know this from ourselves, and it’s the same in education. Don’t take the short path that turns out to be long; take the long path that turns out to be short. The short-but-long way is immediate: bang, bang, bang, bang. We’re not in the army. In the army, when bombs have to be dropped, sometimes it has to be bang, bang. There are clear orders. But we’re dealing with souls, souls, souls. We have to proceed pleasantly and gently. You have to keep a line of tension; there must be order and discipline. Obviously, there can’t be chaos, [unclear]. But this approach of giving—and no, I don’t mean simply accommodating—of lifting people up and elevating them, wins. What doesn’t work with a little love works with a lot of love. It’s not like the saying, “What doesn’t work with a little force works with a lot of force.” That’s over; that was in exile. In exile, that was how it was. Today, what doesn’t work with a little love works with a lot of love. What doesn’t work with a little patience works with a lot of patience. In the end, it will succeed. It isn’t always easy. Sometimes you’re tired; sometimes you haven’t eaten; sometimes this is already the third person to say something inappropriate to you. Okay, that’s what we learn

48:21 Speaker 2 in Tanya. Let him bring it to heart; again, let him bring it to heart, and again, bring it to heart. We have to make it a habit, to train ourselves. Yesterday we learned in Tanya that a person has to train himself, train himself, and accustom himself. Practice. Fine, you read; sometimes you get mixed up, and you go back and try again. With Hashem’s help, we will all succeed in the work of education and be able to say, “Look at what we have raised.” An educator should get up in the morning with a smile on his face. It is the work of Heaven; his work is the work of Heaven. There are hundreds of letters from the Rebbe about the greatness of educators. An educator should have a set time—once a day, once every two days, or once a week—to read a letter or two from the Rebbe about education. There is material on the educational shlichus. In volume 22 of Likkutei Sichos there is a section on education. In Igros Kodesh, every few pages there is something about educators. He should have a set practice of reading a letter from the Rebbe about education every two or three days—about its greatness, its privilege, and how to go about it. Keep developing your skills in the work of education in the best possible way. Before turning to education professionals, with all due respect to them—but on an entirely different level—get your guidance, direction, and inspiration from what is written in Torah, in Chassidus, and in the Rebbe’s sichos and maamarim. We have an excellent coach, and through the Rebbe’s letters we can keep receiving that inner coaching. Read them again. You read again; you find a beautiful letter, keep it for yourself. Make a copy and return to it a week later, and then again. Practice it. See what the Rebbe wrote about the educator, how the Rebbe sees it. The Rebbe said—we’ll finish with this—the Rebbe said to Rabbi Shlomo Zarchi, who very much wanted to go out on shlichus, that he needed to remain an educator and mashpia. He asked again. On one occasion, the Rebbe said to him,

50:09 Speaker 2 “What do you think? Isn’t it relevant to the higher intent for 11 Nissan 5751 that there should be a mashpia in Tomchei Temimim, and that it should be done properly?” So he asked the Rebbe, “Is it like going to Australia?” That was the gist of the exchange. And the Rebbe told him, “If you do it with dedication, it is as though you went on shlichus to the most distant place.” If you devote yourself to it seriously and live with it, with Hashem’s help we will succeed. And very soon, in the true and complete Geulah, we will be able to show Hakadosh Boruch Hu Tzivos Hashem—a very great army, all standing joyfully. Soldiers of the House of David, children who love Hakadosh Boruch Hu and are loved by Him, very soon.

50:48 Speaker 10 Rabbi Dobroskin, thank you very much.

50:50 Speaker 2 My pleasure.