Rabbi Peretz Chen | You're not just a carpool driver... How can we make the most of the morning dispersal of the kids?

00:00 What does your morning look like? Do you see a miracle every morning too? Somehow, after waking the children, getting them dressed, doing the girls’ ponytails, making sandwiches and filling water bottles—while they want this and don’t want that—we still manage to get to work on time. That’s exactly what the words “for Your miracles that are with us every day” are talking about. Today, we’ll talk about those special morning hours and learn how, even in that rushed time with the children, we can give them an amazing quality that, with Hashem’s help, will stay with them for life. We’ll talk about different kinds of music, about the unique magic of the morning hours that doesn’t exist at any other time of day, and, as usual, about the Geulah and the Beis Hamikdash. But just before we begin, I have a small request. Baruch Hashem, these classes have been getting wonderful responses. Just last week, a father I had never met came up to me and said, “Rabbi Peretz, thank you so much. My wife and I watched the class on the screens,” he told me, “and we simply changed things at home. Yasher koach!” That’s what he said. So, to help these classes continue to be shared, with Hashem’s help, and reach more homes, more parents and more Jews, there’s one small thing you can do: like the class, share it and leave a comment. I’d really love to hear your responses. And of course, subscribe to the channel. With Hashem’s help, these ideas will reach more and more Jews. Now, let’s get back to our morning and take a closer look at it. The hectic part of the morning is really everything up to getting into the car with the children. You have to dress them and get them ready; they like this outfit but not that one; they want something to drink or eat; and all

02:10 sorts of wishes suddenly appear along with the morning. But once everyone is in the car, seated and buckled in, things start to calm down a little. From there, you just start the car and drive to drop them off at preschool, school, daycare—wherever they need to go. So that relative calm begins the moment the children get into the car, and now we have a few minutes with them there. What do we do with those minutes? Of course, talking with them, asking them questions and connecting with them through a pleasant conversation is very, very important. It’s always good and helpful. But we don’t always have the energy left. After everything we’ve been through just to get to that drive, we’re exhausted. There’s something much easier, though, that can also be very, very valuable: we can put on music in the car. In this age of smartphones, we can even choose exactly what music we want the children to hear. And that’s the point. Every morning, we have the opportunity to play music that will awaken their souls and connect them to good, higher places. We may not see it now, but throughout their lives, that music can lead them to good places. And it’s in our hands to choose what music they hear each morning. I once heard an interview with Chaim Yavin’s daughter. Chaim Yavin was known as “Mr. Television.” In that interview, his daughter said she didn’t have a television at home. The interviewer asked her, “How can Mr. Television’s daughter not have a television?” She answered, “I’m the one who will choose what content my children take in. No one else will dictate that to me. If there’s a television, they’ll take in whatever content the television decides to show. I’m not willing to accept that. So I have a video player at home”—this was in the days of videos and tapes—“I have

04:27 a video player and a screen, and I get, buy or rent the tapes I want them to watch, the content that matters to me for them to take in. I decide.” That statement is so wise. During that drive with our children, we really can decide what content we put into their minds and hearts through music. How powerful is music? I once heard an amazing story about the Alter Rebbe, the author of the Tanya and founder of Chabad Chassidus. Both early on and later in his life, the Alter Rebbe faced opposition to his path from various groups of Jews. Why was there opposition? That’s a subject in itself. There have always been opponents and chassidim among the Jewish people. There was opposition. One day, the Alter Rebbe’s opponents in the town of Shklov decided to test him: was he really the Torah scholar people said he was? They invited him to the town and planned a large gathering in the shul. All the town’s great scholars—and there were great scholars there—would come and ask him deep, difficult questions. They would show everyone that, G-d forbid, the Alter Rebbe didn’t know how to learn. And so it happened. The Alter Rebbe accepted the invitation and came to town. All the scholars gathered and brought out the questions they still hadn’t managed to answer. The Alter Rebbe stood in the middle of the beis midrash, with everyone seated around him. He told them he would prefer that they ask all their questions first, and then he would answer them. They could hardly wait. They began firing questions at him, genuinely difficult questions, each harder than the last. The Alter Rebbe stood there, his face calm and composed. Everything was fine. When they had all finished asking the difficult questions they had prepared, the Alter Rebbe said

06:44 that before answering their questions, he wanted to sing them a niggun. He stood in the middle of the beis midrash, with the whole town and all its scholars around him, and began singing a deep niggun. He sang and sang, and suddenly those scholars felt their questions resolving themselves. The questions were being answered—there were no questions anymore. Everything fell into place in their minds, one question after another. By the time the Alter Rebbe finished that melody, that niggun, no one had any questions left. Of course, this was a very dramatic event, and it led dozens of young scholars to embrace the Alter Rebbe’s path, the path of Chassidus. But what happened in that story? How did the niggun answer their questions? What was this magic? The Alter Rebbe knew that a melody, a niggun, is the pen of the soul. A niggun reaches the very deepest places within a person, and the Alter Rebbe knew it could lift a person’s soul to very, very high places. After all, why do we have questions? Do the angels in heaven wonder whether G-d exists, for example? They don’t have questions like that, because they sense Him all the time. We human beings, down here in this lowly world, do have such questions. In other words, the higher the place you’re in, the fewer questions you have. When you’re in a higher, more elevated place, things become much, much clearer. Through the special niggun he sang, the Alter Rebbe simply lifted everyone there to a more spiritual, higher world. And when you’re in that higher spiritual world, the questions disappear. Just as the angels have fewer questions than human beings, their questions were resolved. That means a niggun has the power to lift the soul, to lift us up. But wait, but

09:02 What kind of niggun? What kind of niggun? There are so many songs, so many melodies. What makes a niggun a quality niggun, one that has the power to lift us higher? This is explained in several places: there are three kinds of niggunim. There is a niggun called a “directed niggun,” a niggun called a “filled niggun,” and a niggun called a “foolish niggun.” What does that mean? What are directed, filled, and foolish niggunim? A directed niggun is one composed by supremely righteous people—Rebbes, people on a very, very high spiritual level. Why is it called a directed niggun? Because it is directed toward the higher worlds. Great tzaddikim know how the higher worlds operate, and the niggunim they composed correspond to those worlds. So when a Jew sings a directed niggun, it connects him to, and lifts him into, the loftiest spiritual worlds. A directed niggun is so powerful that there is a very, very well-known niggun of the Alter Rebbe called the Four Stanzas. It corresponds to the four worlds: Atzilus, Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah. Each section corresponds to one of those worlds. When you sing it, you climb from our world, called the world of Asiyah, to the higher world of Yetzirah, then to Beriah, and then to Atzilus. This niggun is considered so holy that you may not even sing it casually, only at special times—on special holidays, on Rosh Hashanah, on Simchas Torah, on Purim, on 19 Kislev, and when escorting a bride and groom to the chuppah. But what’s the problem with singing it? It’s only a niggun. No—it’s a directed niggun. It is directed toward places so high that we cannot always connect to them. By the way, I knew someone who grew up as a religious young man, a Chabad chossid,

11:25 and at a certain point, unfortunately, he strayed from the path he had grown up on. When he was getting married and they were planning the wedding and the chuppah—how everything would be done—they were, of course, having a chuppah according to halachah. But while planning it, he said, “Please don’t play that niggun as I walk to the chuppah.” They asked, “Why not? It’s such a holy, beautiful, moving niggun—the Four Stanzas. Why not?” He understood music very, very well. He said, “If I hear that niggun, I’m afraid it will awaken me to teshuvah, and that doesn’t suit me right now. I don’t want to be stirred to teshuvah at this moment.” So that is the power of a directed niggun. It is a lofty niggun directed toward lofty places. What is a filled niggun? It is a niggun that was not composed by a tzaddik, but by G-d-fearing Jews, Jews who served Hashem, chassidim who would daven for hours and hours with tremendous passion and vitality. In the course of davening and learning Torah, they composed various niggunim. It is called a filled niggun because it is filled with content. They put into the niggun the stirrings of their hearts, the spiritual feelings they experienced while davening. So when we sing these filled niggunim, we too can connect with and absorb the feelings those Jews and chassidim had when they composed them. It is not on the level of a directed niggun. A directed niggun corresponds to the higher worlds; it connects us to them, and it was composed by tzaddikim. But a filled niggun also has wonderful content: it comes from a Jew serving Hashem who composed a niggun in the course of that service. The third niggun

13:27 on the list is called a foolish niggun. What is a foolish niggun? A niggun that is, as the name suggests, somewhat foolish—a niggun without that kind of content. It may be a niggun set to verses from Tehillim. It may have Jewish, religious content and be sung by a religious singer, but it is not directed. It was not composed by tzaddikim, and it is not filled; it did not come from someone immersed in serving Hashem. A religious, G-d-fearing singer sat down and composed a niggun to a chapter of Tehillim. That’s very, very beautiful. It’s wonderful. It’s good—certainly better than other melodies—but comparatively it is called a foolish niggun, because it is neither filled nor directed. We drive with our children in the car in the morning. We want to give them something meaningful, something that will stay with them all their lives, with Hashem’s help. The niggunim they hear now as children become etched in their minds and hearts. After all, when any of us hears a melody or song we used to hear as children long, long ago, it brings back all kinds of nostalgia and sweet memories, and we want to hear it again. The niggunim we heard as children became part of us, part of our personalities—the songs we grew up with. Our children, too, are growing up with particular songs right now. We can let the radio host, the producer of a radio program, decide which songs they will hear and which songs will enter their hearts and souls and accompany them throughout their lives. But as Chaim Yavin’s daughter said, we as parents need to decide what we want to enter their hearts and souls. So we should choose quality music, each of us according to our level and circumstances. If niggunim composed by tzaddikim—directed niggunim—are too much for someone right now, then there are filled niggunim. And if even

15:42 that is too much for someone, a foolish niggun is good too—but let it be a religious niggun, at least one performed by a G-d-fearing person. A niggun is influenced by the person who composes it. Someone who composes a melody puts his heart into it, and his heart comes through the niggun. So it is in our hands to choose what music to bring in, what content to give our children. I have to share that I’ve recently been doing this with my own children. We get into the car, and I choose for them. I try, as much as possible, to choose niggunim on a higher level—filled niggunim. There are directed niggunim too, and the children don’t know them yet. With older children it’s harder, because they already have things they like and things they don’t like, and it may no longer suit them. But with younger children, what we put on for them, what we play for them, is what they will hear. So it’s in our hands, and it’s so simple. We drive along in the car; we don’t have to open our mouths or say anything. We just sit and put on the right music on the phone, connect it to the car’s Bluetooth, and it plays pleasantly throughout the car. It’s in our hands. It’s our responsibility. It’s a blessing we bring our children for their whole lives. That time in the morning is the most powerful time of the day. Regarding the mitzvah of separating challah, the Torah says, “The first of your dough.” The first portion of the dough must be given to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In other words, when we prepare dough, before we eat any of it ourselves, the first thing we do is separate challah for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The first portion goes to Hakadosh Boruch Hu through the separation of challah, and afterward we eat and enjoy the bread made from that dough. The Torah uses the words

17:45 “The first of your dough.” They explained this as “the first of your cradle”: when you get up from your cradle—that is, from bed in the morning—the first part of the morning should be given to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Just as with dough, the first thing you do is separate challah for Hashem, and only afterward eat the rest, so too, “the first of your cradle”: as soon as you get out of bed in the morning, you give the first part of the day to Hashem. Why? Because in the morning the mind is clear, fresh, and receptive. The Rebbe related that it was very, very important to his father-in-law, the Frierdiker Rebbe, that in schools teaching both Jewish and secular subjects, the Jewish studies be taught first thing in the morning. Why? Because in the morning the mind is clear, fresh, and receptive. It’s important that those special hours fill the mind with Jewish studies and Torah study; afterward, the children can turn to all the other subjects. There is something special, a particular magic, about “the first of your cradle”—the morning hours. So when our children hear quality music, music with content that speaks to the heart and soul, first thing in the morning, when everything is fresh, it sinks so deeply into them. It will certainly, certainly stay with them later in life. Sometimes, at five in the afternoon, we suddenly find ourselves humming a tune. We think, “Wait, where did this tune come from?” And then we remember that we heard it at seven in the morning. Because we heard it first thing, it sank in so deeply that at five in the afternoon it comes out, seemingly from nowhere. That’s the magic of the morning hours. So why wouldn’t we give our children the very best during those hours? We’ve worked hard, run around, dressed them, done their ponytails, made sandwiches, packed drinks. We’ve finally made it

20:04 to the car, and now we’re driving. Turn on the air conditioning and put on quality music—religious music, music from pure Jewish sources, music of the highest possible standard that’s easy to connect with. It’s a gift to our children for their whole lives. We see the power of music in the Beis Hamikdash, too. The Levi’im played music there. There were two groups: some played instruments, and others sang. The power of their music was so great that when a Jew came to the Beis Hamikdash to bring an offering because he had committed a sin—an offering to atone for it—the kohen would look at his face and be able to tell whether he truly regretted what he had done. Sometimes the kohen would see that the face of the Jew bringing the offering did not show genuine regret. But regret for the sin is part of teshuvah. So the kohen would immediately call the Levi’im. They would come and begin playing a melody, and that melody would awaken the person to teshuvah. It would open his soul, open his heart. Suddenly, the Jew would simply begin to cry over the sin he had committed, and in this way he would do complete teshuvah. That is the power of a melody: to awaken a person and lift him higher. The Zohar even says that the singing of the Levi’im in the Beis Hamikdash affected not only the Jew, awakening him to teshuvah, but also the higher sefiros. Those ten holy sefiros in the higher worlds, through which the flow of blessing reaches this world, were affected by the music of the Levi’im. Music has power; a melody has tremendous strength. And that is the power

22:21 we very much want to pass on to our children. So let’s decide to invest in our children during those magical morning hours. Let’s plan in advance what music we’d enjoy hearing ourselves and would also like them to hear—good music, music of high spiritual and religious quality that will affect their souls. We’ll choose it ahead of time, and when we get into the car after all the rushing around and fastening their seat belts amid the pressure, that’s it: we’re sitting in the car. Turn on the air conditioning—strong air conditioning, because it’s hot now in the summer. Put on the music we chose, connect the phone to Bluetooth so we can hear it throughout the car with good sound, and drive calmly. It will do us parents good, too, bringing calm and peace to our morning. That’s how we’ll drive with them. And with Hashem’s help, this is one more thing we parents can do for them, bringing more quality into our children’s lives and their future. May it be His will that, with Hashem’s help, we have much, much nachas from our children; that they grow up healthy, happy, and G-d-fearing; that we rejoice with them and they with us; and that together with our children, with Hashem’s help, we merit to go forth to greet Moshiach Tzidkeinu. May we merit to see the Levi’im singing in the Beis Hamikdash. With Hashem’s help, may all this happen very soon, with the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu. May he be revealed speedily. Amen, so may it be. Thank you very much.