Chinuch Chassidi – Rabbi Chen · Episode 55 · 16 Menachem Av 5784 · 16:07
Rabbi Peretz Chen | Self-sacrifice that will lead our children to success
Episode description
Success in every area of life—in studies, at work, in marriage, and in serving Hashem—requires mesirus nefesh: surrendering one’s own will. In this class, we’ll learn how to give our children the inner fire to devote themselves to the important tasks in life. This class is dedicated to the merit of the soldiers, the recovery of the wounded, the release of the hostages, and the resurrection of the dead soon. Amen
Machine translation into English of the automatic Hebrew transcript.
00:00 What extraordinary levels of self-sacrifice have we witnessed over the past year? There are the righteous soldiers who risk their lives day after day to protect the Land of Israel and defend the Jewish people—something that continues at this very moment. And there are civilians who have devoted themselves, and continue to devote themselves, to the soldiers and to other civilians. What is happening is simply amazing. We are a people of self-sacrifice. In its usual, classic sense, self-sacrifice means doing something that puts your life at risk. But mesirus nefesh, self-sacrifice, also means surrendering your will. I want one thing; I don’t feel like doing something else. But that other thing is what I truly need to do. So I will surrender my will for the sake of what I really ought to do, even though I don’t feel like it. We need this at every step in life. Anything meaningful, anything real, takes self-sacrifice to achieve. A student in class needs self-sacrifice. There are so many other things he wants to do—who feels like studying? But he needs self-sacrifice to succeed at his schoolwork. The same is true of someone who goes to work: going to sleep on time so he can get up on time, actually getting up on time and arriving at work on time, doing his work assignments. We don’t always feel like doing those things. They require us to surrender our will. And that’s without even speaking about living according to the Torah, according to Hashem’s way—a life of yiras Shamayim. How much self-sacrifice does that require of us? After all, right now, before Moshiach comes, the world doesn’t speak about Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The world doesn’t shout, “Hear, O Israel: Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One.” The world shouts
02:11 “Vacation! The beach! A cold Coke! Shawarma!” Very nice things, but it doesn’t shout about spirituality or holiness. To nevertheless walk with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to follow the Shulchan Aruch and live a life of yiras Shamayim—that requires self-sacrifice. In today’s class, we’ll talk about how, with Hashem’s help, we can give our children the quality of self-sacrifice. What can help them, when they face important tasks, to devote themselves to those tasks and surrender their will for the sake of the goal they aspire to, even when they don’t feel like it? So let’s look more deeply at self-sacrifice in light of things connected with the coming days. First, this coming Shabbos will be 20 Menachem Av. The 20th of Menachem Av is the yahrtzeit, the day of passing, of the father of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Schneerson. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Schneerson was a rabbi, a great rabbi and a Kabbalist. In the city where he served as rabbi, Dnepropetrovsk, everyone held him in very high regard. Even the non-Jews respected him. When he walked down the street and entered a bank, the bank manager would come over and shake his hand, and everyone would stand in his honor. Everyone respected him, Jews and, lehavdil, non-Jews. He was a revered figure. The Russian authorities saw how revered he was and how much influence he had, and they wanted to use that for their own purposes. One thing that happened was that, as Pesach approached, they wanted him to certify as kosher the matzos the government was baking in its bakeries. There was no kosher supervision, nothing kosher for Pesach—it was outright chametz. But he refused under any circumstances, knowing that refusing their demand could cost him very, very dearly. Still, he would not agree under any
04:34 circumstances, despite knowing the price he might pay. Because of this, and because of several other things they suspected him of doing against them—spreading Yiddishkeit, which bothered them greatly—they sent him into a very harsh exile, to a town called Chiali. This happened in 1939. They arrested him on 9 Nissan at three in the morning. Four officers of the secret police came to their home and took him away. They began moving him from place to place, transferring him from one prison to another. The suffering was terrible, and afterward he was exiled, as I mentioned, to Chiali, where the conditions were not just poor—they were truly substandard. His wife, Rebbetzin Chana, later wrote a diary describing the terrible suffering they endured there. Later, on 20 Menachem Av, he passed away and was buried in Alma-Ata, Kazakhstan. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak showed us that we must devote ourselves to important tasks: to keeping the flame alive, protecting the Jewish people, preserving Yiddishkeit and upholding kashrus. We must devote ourselves to the point of self-sacrifice. But that doesn’t happen on its own. How does a person develop that nature? How does someone reach such lofty levels of self-sacrifice? An answer is also hidden in the date 28 Menachem Av. The Gemara in Tractate Taanis relates that when the Jewish people returned to the Land of Israel after the Babylonian exile—the return to Zion, following the well-known proclamation of Cyrus—they needed wood for the Beis Hamikdash. At that time, the Land of Israel lay desolate, and wood for the Beis Hamikdash was hard to obtain. Several
07:01 families decided, “That won’t do. There’s no wood? Then we’ll make sure there is wood.” With great self-sacrifice, they went and arranged for wood, even though it was very, very difficult. It was established that those families who supplied the wood used for the offerings in the Beis Hamikdash would retain that privilege in later years, even when wood became easier to obtain. They had earned the right to bring wood, because someone who makes the effort when things are hard should benefit from it when things are easy, too. There were set dates on which those families brought wood. One family, for example, brought it on 15 Menachem Av, and another brought it on 28 Menachem Av. The Gemara asks: Who was that latter family? It cites two opinions, a disagreement between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yosi: Were they descendants of King David, or descendants of Yoav ben Tzeruyah, the commander of King David’s army? King David or Yoav ben Tzeruyah? That raises a question: Which were they really? The explanation is that they were descendants of both King David and Yoav ben Tzeruyah. So what is the disagreement? The disagreement between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Yosi in the Gemara concerns that very nature, that quality of self-sacrifice—the willingness to make an effort for other Jews. After all, people who have committed transgressions bring offerings too, whether they sinned deliberately or inadvertently. People sin; they need this wood for their offerings, and the families devoted themselves for their sake as well. And bringing wood on 28 Menachem Av is even more remarkable than bringing it on 15 Menachem Av. Why? Because from 15 Menachem Av onward, wood can no longer be cut
09:17 to the Beis Hamikdash. The reason is that from 15 Menachem Av onward, the sun’s heat gradually weakens, and dampness begins to set in. They would not bring damp wood to the Beis Hamikdash, because moisture could lead to worms, and worm-infested wood could not be placed on the altar. There was a chamber in the Beis Hamikdash called the Chamber of Wood, where kohanim checked that the wood was properly dry and had no worms. So what does that mean? Those who brought wood before 15 Menachem Av could go out, cut it and bring it in. But those who brought wood on 28 Menachem Av were already five days past the time when they could cut wood. That demanded much more planning, much more logistics. Cutting the wood in advance, keeping it and storing it took much more effort. And for whom was that effort? For whose sake? For people who had sinned, committed transgressions. And yet they did it. They did it anyway. The Gemara asks: Wait, who were these people? Where did they get this quality, this capacity for self-sacrifice? The Gemara gives two opinions. Some say they were descendants of Dovid. Others say they were descendants of Yoav ben Tzeruyah, because both Dovid and Yoav showed self-sacrifice. King Dovid devoted himself to Torah study. Yoav ben Tzeruyah devoted himself to his wars. And of course, as our Sages teach us, without Dovid, Yoav would not have succeeded. Yoav succeeded because Dovid sat and studied Torah, and Torah study gives the strength to succeed in war. How relevant that is today. And without Yoav, Dovid would not have succeeded either. Each helped the other, and both showed self-sacrifice. So the Gemara is really asking where they drew that strength for self-sacrifice from. Bringing wood on 28 Menachem Av required a great deal of planning, a great deal of logistics. It required
11:12 dedication. Where did they get it? One opinion says from Dovid; the other says from Yoav. But what is the point? We see clearly from this that when fathers devote themselves, it passes on to their children. That is why the Gemara asks who their ancestors were. Ah, Dovid and Yoav. Now it makes sense: they showed self-sacrifice, so their descendants did too. When fathers show self-sacrifice, that quality passes on to their descendants. So, returning to the question we began with at the start of the class: How do we pass on to our children the instinct for self-sacrifice, for setting aside our own wishes for the important tasks in life? The answer is that we need to show them an example of self-sacrifice. An example of self-sacrifice. What does that mean? It sounds like a grand phrase. What does it actually mean? It is not grand; it is very simple. My son sees that I do not give up my regular Torah class, whether I go every day, once a week or twice a week. He sees that it is hard for me, that I am very, very tired, but I go anyway. And if there is a family event on the very day of my regular class, he sees me planning how I can manage both and making every effort. Maybe I ask them to move the class earlier so I can attend, or I ask someone for a recording. And my son says, “Dad doesn’t give up his class. Dad doesn’t give up his class.” We Chabad chassidim help fellow Jews put on tefillin. My son sees that I take every opportunity to help others put on tefillin. I take tefillin with me, go out, ask people, and go out at least once a week to help Jews put on tefillin. My son knows that this is not always easy for me. I have a busy week, I am overloaded, and I have things to do,
13:05 but I do it anyway. And little by little, he absorbs the lesson that we need to devote ourselves. My son sees me helping with a gemach, helping others through acts of kindness, making an effort for it. My child sees me sitting and learning with him at home. He knows I am very busy, but he sees that I do not give up our learning time. I do not give it up. He knows it takes effort on my part. That is how he learns that we need to be dedicated. That is how we can give our children a capacity for self-sacrifice, and that is what the Gemara is saying. We find people who show self-sacrifice. Wait, who were their ancestors? It comes from somewhere, because these things are passed on. The capacity for self-sacrifice passes from fathers to children. But we need to set that example by showing our own dedication. I remember my father, may he live and be well, going out at night when I was a child to a Gemara class at the shul. I was very young then. Someone else would bring his son, who was about my age, and the two of us would sit outside in the shul courtyard. My friend and I would just wander around, look at the moon, look at things and pass the time, as children do. But it stayed with me: Dad leaves the house to go to a Gemara class. That takes effort. Dad works hard, works long hours, but he goes to a Gemara class. That is how we give our descendants an example of dedication, an example of self-sacrifice. So let us sum up what we discussed today. We began by talking about self-sacrifice. We are living in a time when soldiers and civilians are showing self-sacrifice. It is something we need at every step of life. To succeed in any area, we need to set aside
15:02 our own wishes. We spoke about the Rebbe’s father and the self-sacrifice he showed. This coming Shabbos, 21 Menachem Av, is his yahrzeit. And from the Gemara in Tractate Taanis, in its discussion of the wood offering of 21 Menachem Av, we saw that self-sacrifice does not grow on its own. It comes from ancestors who showed self-sacrifice. That is our task: for our children to see how dedicated we are to the things that matter. Thank you very much! May we have a great deal of nachas. I would be very glad if you would like, comment on and share this class. If you are not subscribed, please subscribe. It helps the class reach more and more Jews. May we hear good news, may the soldiers be healthy, may the hostages return, and may we merit the coming of Moshiach with Hashem’s help. After the tremendous self-sacrifice the Jewish people have shown for so many years, especially recently, may we soon merit the coming of Moshiach and the resurrection of the dead, soon, amen. Thank you very much. Good news. All the best.