Celebration of 110 Years of Tomchei Temimim

00:00 Speaker 1 A chossid, a tzaddik, a scholar—these are all descriptions. An outward form is not the essence. The essence of a Jew is something else entirely. And that is what the Rebbe brought out here: even when he is a rosh yeshivah and a mashpia, or a businessman, all of that is an outward form. What is his essence? His essence is that he remains a student of Torah. We can explain it this way: a student is someone who receives. Often in Chassidus, when we want an example of a mashpia and a recipient, we give the example of a teacher and student. A student—or a student of Torah, too, since that means someone who receives wisdom—is a recipient. What he received when he was a student in Tomchei Temimim—and the Rebbe tells him that its holiness has not been uprooted from its place—he continues to receive throughout his life. But what happens? Over time, he may no longer feel it. There is a maamar of the Rebbe from 5718 on “Recite before Me verses of remembrance, so that your remembrance may rise before Me for good.” The Rebbe asks there: if your remembrance is to rise before Me, that means there is something to recall. What is it? The covenant Hashem made with Avraham Avinu. Whatever happens, Hashem made a covenant with Avraham. Nevertheless, during the year things may happen that somewhat obscure it. So it needs to be recalled anew. The same applies here. Over time, there can be, G-d forbid, a certain coolness, a certain concealment of what he received from Tomchei Temimim. And by gathering and uniting together... There is a letter from the Rebbe about this. The Rebbe calls it “A gathering of tzaddikim is good for them and good for the world.” And how are they all tzaddikim? The Rebbe writes: through this, they arouse an awakening from below that reaches higher and higher, to the loftiest heights. And the Rebbe continues: as above, this awakening from below reaches higher and higher, and “you shall arise and ascend”—a true ascent without limit—through which we reach

03:46 Speaker 1 the place that He will choose. What is the place that He will choose? Jerusalem, through the building of the Beis Hamikdash. And may each and every one of us, together with our families, and indeed all of the Jewish people, be inscribed and sealed for a good and sweet year.

04:26 Speaker 2 And from one blessing to another: a blessing from our host. We are here in Kfar Chabad. We invite the local rav, the distinguished chossid Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi, to offer a blessing. Please.

05:09 Speaker 3 Honored teachers and rabbis, roshei yeshivah, whom I too had the privilege of having as teachers; honored rabbis; and guests who have come to take part in this special farbrengen marking 110 years since the founding of Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim. Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t think that... Blessed are You, Hashem our G-d, King of the universe. L’chaim, l’chaim! I don’t think many yeshivos in the world can celebrate a milestone like this—110 years. There are, of course, yeshivos that may have been founded earlier, but they went through changes: they changed their names from Slobodka to Chevron, from Chevron to Slobodka, and so on. But this very essence of Tomchei Temimim—this name and this yeshivah, this place of Torah called Tomchei Temimim—no other yeshivah can celebrate 110 years like this. And when we recall a little of the history and the upheavals Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim went through, it is somewhat like what the Rambam writes in the laws of sanctifying the new month: we can sanctify the month today because there are Jews in Eretz Yisroel, and ever since they entered the land, there has never been a time when it was without Jews. The same is true of Tomchei Temimim. Not for a single day did the yeshivah cease to exist, even in the most difficult circumstances under Communist rule, amid the most terrible and cruel persecutions. Tomchei Temimim stood firm and continued on the path on which it was founded. Ladies and gentlemen, the Rebbe Rashab said that, to found Tomchei Temimim, he had to go through fifteen years of struggle. When you think about those words, they seem open to many interpretations. Today, baruch Hashem, we see new yeshivos being established all the time. Yet the Rebbe Rashab had to struggle for fifteen years to establish Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim. And one thing I once thought to myself... I once asked the Rebbe about a certain matter, and the Rebbe answered me in these

08:18 Speaker 3 words: Although in the Tomchei Temimim yeshivos, fewer hours are devoted to studying nigleh than in other yeshivos, the blessings of the Rebbe—the Rebbe mentioned the Rebbe Rashab and the Frierdiker Rebbe in the note, and then repeated it to me in yechidus—give a student the strength and success to accomplish more in those hours than someone else in another yeshivah accomplishes in... The Rebbe even wrote: twice as many hours. What does that mean? Each person can interpret it for himself. We certainly know that the Alter Rebbe says in the laws of Torah study that, despite all one’s effort, one must ask Hashem for success from Him. And here the Rebbeim give a person, a young man, the strength to succeed, to understand, and to attain knowledge of Torah in six or eight hours where another young man would need to toil for eighteen hours. I would make one correction. Our honored emcee described this gathering as an alumni gathering. I don’t think it should be described only as an alumni gathering. I think it would be more accurate to call it a gathering of soldiers. The Temimim are the soldiers of the House of David, and I would describe this gathering as an emergency assembly. A year ago there was a war, and afterward—of course, we won’t dwell on it—the army had not been very successful. What did the military leaders do? They assembled the veterans. They brought together those who knew how to discuss what should be done. I think one of the purposes of this gathering is to bring together all the soldiers of every generation, to strengthen one another and draw strength from one another. We find ourselves in a state of deep and compounded darkness, thirteen years after Gimmel Tammuz. May Hashem help us emerge immediately from darkness into a great light. But as long as we remain in this darkness, there is a group of shluchim who continue their work, and there is also, baruch Hashem, a large group of former yeshivah students who do not serve as shluchim: householders, chassidim with families, who of course set aside time for Torah study and learn Chassidus. But this separation,

11:02 Speaker 3 this distance between one person and another—especially when it goes on for a long time—is not the healthiest thing. So the purpose of this gathering is to bring all the Temimim together, to sit down and work out a plan. How do we stay together? How do we strengthen one another? How do we get through this “brief moment”—“For a brief moment I forsook you, but with great compassion I will gather you”—this brief moment? How do we keep our hearts together? How do we strengthen our hearts together? That is one of the purposes of this gathering. We must call in and assemble the soldiers, the veteran soldiers, those who spent years within Tomchei Temimim. They know what Tomchei Temimim is. They know what a chossid is, what a Tomim is, what a chassidic farbrengen is. What is an older chossid? What does he know, and what does he have to tell us? And how much more is there to hear? So the purpose of this gathering is to bring together those who had the privilege of spending years—ten years, twelve years—in the atmosphere of Tomchei Temimim, and to think together and plan how we can stay together. Ladies and gentlemen, as a young man I had the privilege of hearing something from the Rebbe in yechidus concerning a particular matter, and those words still ring in my ears as though it were now. It has been over—well, forty-three years. The Rebbe said to me, in these words: “Remember this: you are a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, the son of a Tomim.” And he repeated it three times. It was a yechidus that lasted more than twenty minutes. “Remember this: you are a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, the son of a Tomim.” I remember that when I returned—ah, there were no telephones yet—I came back to Eretz Yisroel and told my father those words the Rebbe had said, in the car when he came out from Kfar Chabad[?] to meet me.

13:22 Speaker 3 He burst into tears and said, “I merited to hear the Rebbe call me a Tomim.” He was crying; he couldn’t hold himself back. And the Rebbe repeated it several times. The Rebbe said: “Remember this: you are a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, and your place is in Tomchei Temimim.” The Rebbe went even further and expressed it more sharply. He said that in another setting, another yeshiva, a bochur might grow [unclear] and learn. But a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, the son of a Tomim—if, G-d forbid, he moves to another setting, it may already be… and so on. At the time I was very confused. The Rebbe shouted and banged his hand on the table, and I didn’t understand what the Rebbe meant by “already, and so on.” What did “already” mean? What did he mean? I said— The Rebbe understood that I didn’t understand, so he said to me [unclear]. But by then I understood what the Rebbe meant. The meaning was [unclear]. In any case, those words: “a Tomim, the son of a Tomim, the son of a Tomim.” The privilege is not only that you are a Tomim, but that you are the son of a Tomim and the son of a Tomim. That lineage shows the continuity of the generations, the continuity of your connection to Tomchei Temimim, your place in Tomchei Temimim. And that is not only while you study in the yeshiva. It continues afterward. So we need to know that Tomchei Temimim is not just a framework for the time you are there. It is a framework that obligates you for life. There is the well-known sicha of the Rebbe about [unclear] of Tomchei Temimim: the connection to Tomchei Temimim is life. And there are many, many stories. I won’t say much; there is still a lot to discuss at this gathering. But how

15:27 Speaker 3 the connection to Tomchei Temimim saved a person even when he was later outside that framework. It is not only, G-d forbid, when things go wrong; it is also on the positive side—in the merit, the opportunities, and the strengths he was given. And therefore, ladies and gentlemen, after one has been at the yeshiva or has left it—someone on shlichus is on shlichus. But there are also young married men. We need to know this. Each and every one of us needs to seek out [unclear].

16:02 Speaker 4 But [unclear], you hold on to a rope.

16:05 Speaker 3 That you carry forward.

16:06 Speaker 4 [unclear]

16:07 Speaker 3 A rope. We are holding fast to a firm, solid anchor. We need to gather at the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva from time to time, to come to the yeshiva—not only when the yeshiva is in difficulty and needs saving. “Please, open your pocket.” This is our place. This is where we are; this is what our lives revolve around. To sit together, generation after generation, each generation and its teachers. To sit together, to farbreng together, to strengthen one another. But we also need the place itself. The place makes a difference. That place is Tomchei Temimim. The seforim speak about this: the holiness of a place, its uniqueness and its unity—all the more so when it concerns Torah scholars. Ladies and gentlemen, we are on a ship being tossed about. There are all kinds of winds. The Rebbe defined us as soldiers: soldiers of the House of David, soldiers in an army. There are several things we can learn from that. A soldier—the first thing is kabbolas ol, discipline. I remember I had an elderly great-grandfather, a Jew who—perhaps there are still people in Jerusalem who remember him. He was ninety-six years old, and he had spent sixteen years as a soldier in the Russian army. It was still the end of the Cantonist era under Nicholas. When he was ninety-six, I remember him getting out of bed: you could see he was a soldier. He got up with both feet and stood at attention. That is one of the fundamentals it teaches us. But one of the main things about being a soldier is that he has a commander. There is a commander who leads the army. If, G-d forbid, every soldier did as he pleased and fired in every direction, he would kill his fellow soldier. There is a commander, and he tells them when to fire and when not to fire, what to fire with, how to fire, and where to fire. There is a commander. “Soldiers of the House of David” means not only that we are soldiers, but that we also have a chief of staff. This army has a commander, and the commander is the Rebbe. So we are not only soldiers

18:42 Speaker 3 of Tomchei Temimim. Boruch Hashem, we have a commander, and we must follow the commander’s instructions in every single action we take. We must consider what the commander’s view is: Is there an instruction? Was there an order to do this? Is this what we were instructed to do? Each person, in his own way, will find how to hear the order from the commander. But there is something else a soldier teaches us. I remember that when I was a child, we were taught the difference between a policeman and a soldier. A policeman inspires fear; a soldier projects strength. He does not inspire fear; he projects strength, as though he gives people a sense of security. You can count on me: every soldier of the House of David has strength within him, strength inherent in his capacities. The blessings of the Rebbeim, as we mentioned earlier, give him the strength to draw others close, to grow closer himself, to educate his family and raise his children—for a continuation of chassidic generations, a continuation of generations of Tomchei Temimim. May it be Hashem’s will that we leave this gathering stronger, more fortified. [unclear] in revealed good.

20:19 Speaker 5 Yasher koach to [unclear] for those ten powerful points. As we mentioned earlier, we have gathered for a chassidic farbrengen. I recalled that between 9 Elul and 18 Elul, people would sit and farbreng. We ask everyone—there are small cups on the tables, there is l’chaim—to say l’chaim together. L’chaim, l’chaim and blessings. Rabbi Slavitzky, give [unclear] a l’chaim. [unclear] As is brought in the sichos, one of the times they would sing the Alter Rebbe’s niggun was during the month of Elul. Let’s say l’chaim and begin right away with Reb Meir’s preparatory niggun. All of us together will sing the preparatory niggun, and then the Alter Rebbe’s niggun.

27:36 Speaker 6 Gentlemen, there are a few empty seats here to my right. Those who are standing can sit here. There are several tables with empty places. And now I would like to invite the Chief Rabbi and head of the beis din of the city of Bnei Brak. He himself was among the Temimim who studied, I think, still in Pardes, and later was among the heads of the yeshiva here in Kfar Chabad: the esteemed Rabbi Moshe Yehuda Leib Landau shlita.

29:01 Speaker 7 The Rebbe Rashab, who founded the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva, gave the Temimim a kuntres entitled Eitz Hachayim in 5664. In this kuntres, he explains the reasons for establishing the yeshiva and sets out its schedule, its order of study, and what is required of its students, the Temimim. Some kuntreisim are named after their opening words, such as Kuntres Umayan or Kuntres Heichaltzu. The name Kuntres Eitz Hachayim does not come from its opening words; rather, it describes the content of the kuntres: Eitz Hachayim, the Tree of Life. So much so that the Rebbe concludes it with these words: “Thus speaks their friend, who truly loves them and desires their life,” and signs Kuntres Eitz Hachayim. “Desires their life”—that is a most unusual conclusion. The Rebbe desires the lives of the yeshiva students. Who does not desire the lives of students, and the life of every Jew? What Jewish heart does not ache upon hearing, G-d forbid, of the loss of a Jew’s life, all the more so that of a young bochur, a yeshiva student? Yet here the Rebbe describes himself as “their friend, who truly loves them and desires their life.” Their friend, who truly loves them. How is that expressed? In his desire for their life—a desire born of genuine friendship and love. It is clear as day that he does not mean physical life. The Rebbe desires their life: an entirely different kind of life, a life the Rebbe defines as life, a life the Rebbe desires. “Remember us for life, King Who desires life.” Remember us for the kind of life the King desires. What is this life that the Rebbe desires? How do we define the life of a genuine Tomim, whose friend is the Rebbe, whom the Rebbe loves, and whose life the Rebbe desires—ah, desires life? In serving Hashem there are several levels, many levels: levels in love of Hashem, levels in awe of Hashem, levels in faith, levels in awareness of G-dliness. A student of Tomchei Temimim, whatever his level, is called a Tomim. What characterizes a Tomim of Tomchei Temimim? What is the defining characteristic that fits

33:02 Speaker 7 At every level, with that same defining quality? How do we define the life of a Tomim—the life the Rebbe wanted them to live? I think the defining quality of a Tomim’s life, of an authentic Tomim, is that he lives in a state of “My soul longs for You.” Whatever level of fear of Hashem he has reached, whatever level of love he has reached, whatever state he is in in his avodas Hashem, he still lives with “My soul longs for You.” He wants to serve Hashem. He wants to grow in his avodas Hashem. He wants to bring satisfaction to his Creator. He wants to be worthy of the name Tomim. Of course he has a yetzer hara that interferes with his service. Of course he has to wage war with the animal soul that pulls him in another direction. Sometimes one side prevails, and sometimes the other, but overall he feels that he is on the front line. He is in a state of battle. He is afraid of things that make him more materialistic. He is afraid of a feeling of self-importance, because “I and he cannot dwell together.” He is afraid of the body and animal soul taking control. And why all this? Because “My soul longs for You.” I mentioned a Tomim’s fear of feeling self-important. I want to emphasize something that perhaps not everyone notices: the revulsion at a feeling of self-importance, the fear of it, and the knowledge that even a little self-importance spoils everything—these are among the foundations of Tomchei Temimim. Tomchei Temimim instilled this idea, and it is not at all familiar in other yeshivos. The problem with self-importance is, in fact, explained in the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov. On the one hand, the Baal Shem Tov emphasized that Hakadosh Boruch Hu “dwells with them amid their impurity.” Even if, G-d forbid, a Jew has sinned, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is still with them amid their impurity. But on the other hand, if he has a sense of self-importance, “I and he cannot dwell together.” If, G-d forbid, he stumbles into sin, Hakadosh Boruch Hu is with him amid his impurity and the sin he committed. But self-importance is the greatest obstacle: “I and he cannot dwell together.” To bring about a feeling

36:21 Speaker 7 and an awareness of the disqualifying nature of self-importance—that is what Chabad Chassidus brought about. Chabad Chassidus is almost alone in this—I am speaking about chassidim, not Rebbes, of course—in having these words of the Baal Shem Tov penetrate its chassidim. Thus, the subject of self-importance occupies two chapters of Kuntres Eitz Chayim, based on the introduction by Rabbi Chaim Vital. As is known, that is why the Rebbe printed Rabbi Chaim Vital’s introduction at the end of the kuntres. There the Rebbe also refers to the words of the Shelah on the verse, “The precepts of Hashem are upright, gladdening the heart.” The Shelah explains: What does “gladdening the heart” mean? As the Gemara says, who is the heart of Israel? It is Hakadosh Boruch Hu. “Gladdening the heart” speaks of the heart—the heart of Israel, Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Shelah says that some merit to walk uprightly in Hashem’s ways, and of them it is said that they “gladden the heart,” the heart of Israel. Others cause “And He was grieved in His heart,” G-d forbid. The Rebbe ends Kuntres Eitz Chayim with a prayer, in these words: “I raise my hands to Hashem in prayer and supplication. May it be His will that the light of the Torah of truth, which He revealed to us through our holy forebears and Rebbes, bring boundless joy to the heart, and may they rest in peace.” As Rabbi Mordechai Ashkenazi already mentioned, before founding Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim, the Rebbe Rashab traveled to the resting places of the Rebbes over a period of ten years in preparation for opening the yeshiva. At first glance, if we asked any yeshiva founder whether opening a yeshiva requires traveling to resting places for ten years, he might say that one needs to worry about raising funds to establish it, or about where the students will come from. But why spend ten years traveling to resting places? When the yeshiva is an Eitz Chayim, a tree of life, when it is established because the Rebbe desires life, founding it is a different kind of undertaking. This yeshiva was established to build a different kind of life, a life unlike that of any other yeshiva. And to establish a different kind of life,

39:52 Speaker 7 the Rebbe traveled to the resting places for ten years. Consider this: the Rebbe announces that the yeshiva’s name will be Tomchei Temimim. Who are the Tomchei Temimim, the supporters of the Temimim? The students are the Temimim. Who supports them? [unclear][?], the benefactors, the financial donors—they are the supporters of the Temimim. Yet the Rebbe calls the yeshiva Tomchei Temimim. When you are building a different way of life, when you are building a life with a different purpose, when you are setting out to change the very starting points of life—what was once desirable is now something to fight because it is rooted in self-importance; what was once loved is now hated because it makes a person more materialistic; a way of serving Hashem that was followed until now is no longer acceptable because it came from externality—a yeshiva student cannot make such a change on his own. He needs support, very serious support, to arrive at a new kind of life. That is why Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim was created. The yeshiva supports the Tomim, the student, in becoming a Tomim; that is why it is called Tomchei Temimim. After ten years of visiting the resting places, the Rebbe established a yeshiva that supports a young man in becoming a Tomim, living like a Tomim and wanting what a Tomim wants. One hundred and ten years of Tomchei Temimim. That means one hundred and ten years since this yeshiva, which supports a young man in becoming a Tomim, was created and has continued to exist. The yeshiva supports him through the study of Chassidus, through farbrengens, through guidance, and above all through the sublime strength of the Rebbes—the Rebbes who founded it, and the Rebbes whose resting places the Rebbe visited over those ten years. They are the supporters of the Temimim. They are the ones who give spiritual strength to each and every student to stand on the front line, to succeed in the battle with the yetzer hara, to rise in pure avodas Hashem, and to become a Tomim. The entire line of the Rebbes, the entire holy line of the Rebbes—they are Tomchei Temimim. Chassidus explains that when a father marries off his only son, the yechidah of his soul shines within him. This is speaking of an ordinary person. What happens when a Rebbe, a soul of Atzilus, whose soul shines within him

43:38 Speaker 7 constantly, marries off his only son? We can understand that at his only son’s wedding an extraordinary light shines within him. And from within that wondrous light, at the wedding feast of his only son and successor, the Rebbe Rashab announced the founding of Yeshivas Tomchei Temimim. Is this an ordinary yeshiva, or is there a wondrous light here that shone within the Rebbe at his only son’s wedding? I want to draw your attention to something. When a yeshiva is founded, there is a hierarchy: there is a founder, an institution, a rosh yeshiva, and students. When the Rebbe founded a yeshiva, before he had even given it a name, how did he define it? In section 22 of Kuntres Eitz Chayim, the Rebbe writes: “Now I must inform you of the purpose for which our association was founded.” In brief, he says in section 22: “The purpose of our association is engagement in Torah with an inner feeling, with love and fear. The way to achieve this is through studying Chassidus at a fixed time each day.” When the Rebbe founded a yeshiva, he saw it as founding an association: “our association”—the Rebbe together with the Temimim. An association of the Rebbe and the Temimim, the students. You will not find anywhere else that a Rebbe and chassidim are described as an “association.” A Rebbe and chassidim are described as a Rebbe and those bound to him, a mashpia and those who receive from him, a leader and his followers. Never as an association. Yet the Rebbe founded a yeshiva and defined it as “our association.” This is no empty phrase. And at the end of the kuntres, when the Rebbe offers a prayer, as I already mentioned, he writes: “And may we see good fruit from our labor and your labor.” The labor of Torah from above joins and unites “our labor and your labor.” The association, “our association,” “our labor and your labor”—the shared labor of its members, the Rebbe and the Temimim. If the Rebbe said explicitly [unclear] that chassidim and the Rebbe become bound together [unclear], the one who holds on to the Rebbe’s doorknob [unclear] the Rebbe physically.

47:06 Speaker 7 And spiritually. I’ll translate that into Hebrew, though I assume everyone understands it. Chassidim—the Rebbe bound them to him with an essential bond. Someone who holds on to the Rebbe’s doorknob, the Rebbe watches over him physically and spiritually. How much more so when the Rebbe establishes an association that he calls “our association”—the Rebbe and the Temimim. How close is the spiritual bond between the students and the Rebbe? Who is willing to give up being in one association with the Rebbe, with the Rebbes? Who is willing to give up the support of the Rebbe and the Rebbes, their protection physically and spiritually? Who is willing to give up the unique Tomchei Temimim? The Rebbes are holy men of G-d. There is a well-known saying that by founding the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva, the Rebbe turned the world back fifty years. In other words, the world ordinarily moves forward as the generations decline. The Rebbe Rashab brought things back to where they had been fifty years earlier. The Temimim in Tomchei Temimim—their learning, their avodah, their avodas hatefillah—were suited to an era fifty years earlier. Fifty years before Tomchei Temimim was the era of the Tzemach Tzedek’s yeshiva in Lubavitch. I must say that when we were in Tomchei Temimim in Pardes, under the mashpia Reb Shlomo Chaim, a"h, we felt that we were in a different place from the other yeshivas. We, too, felt that we were behind what was happening in the world. I can’t say we could have called it fifty years behind, but it certainly wasn’t up to date. If today we are in step with the times we live in, if today we are up to date, then we have taken a giant stride forward of at least fifty years. The Rebbe brought things back fifty years. If we have moved forward and reached the ordinary state of the generations’ decline, that was a giant stride of fifty years. And the Gemara says that a giant stride takes away one five-hundredth of a person’s eyesight. To appreciate the standing of a Tamim, to feel what it means to be a Tamim, to appreciate the standing—

50:40 Speaker 7 To be called a Tamim and to appreciate the distinction of Tomchei Temimim, one needs clear vision. The giant stride we took—and perhaps the several giant strides we took—damage that vision. That is why we have gathered today, 110 years after the founding of Tomchei Temimim: to bring us back, to remind us, and to restore our vision, so that we recognize the distinction of the Temimim and of Tomchei Temimim. Let us leave this evening with a clear understanding. We belong to the association the Rebbe called “our association.” We are bound to Tomchei Temimim by bonds of love and bonds of obligation. We have merited the title Tamim, and that name obligates us always to remain [unclear].

01:25 Speaker 1 We have an important guest from overseas, from Europe, who studied in Tomchei Temimim. He is well known for his farbrengens and his articles, a shliach renowned for all he does. He also has an important message to share with the distinguished audience. I would like to invite Rabbi Shabsai Slavaticki, a chossid, a shliach and a man of many accomplishments. Please.

02:27 Speaker 2 L’chaim, l’chaim, l’chaim. L’chaim, Yidden. L’chaim! First of all, I want to apologize—perhaps it isn’t my place, but no one has yet thanked everyone who organized this wonderful evening. It is deeply moving to see Temimim and chassidim sitting together in such a magnificent hall. May Hashem grant this evening great success, both spiritually and materially. L’chaim, l’chaim! I remember when I came... I come from a family that was not Lubavitch. At first I was educated in yeshivos that were not Lubavitch yeshivos. Then I gradually began to grow closer to Lubavitch, and I had doubts about whether to go to Kfar Chabad. I sought advice and asked questions. First I decided I would go, then I decided I wouldn’t, and then I decided I would. I kept going back and forth. When I came to Kfar Chabad, I went to Reb Shlomo Chaim and asked him what to do—whether to enter the yeshiva or not. I told him about all my doubts, all my going back and forth. Reb Shlomo Chaim said to me: “When the Rebbe Rashab decided to establish the yeshiva, he spent the ten years before that going to the Ohels of the Rebbe Maharash and the Tzemach Tzedek. No rosh yeshiva”—this is what Reb Shlomo Chaim told me—“spends ten years going to Ohels before opening his yeshiva. There’s no such thing. He looks for a building, or he looks for funding. He looks for some wealthy donor. But going to Ohels for ten years? What was the Rebbe Rashab doing there?” Reb Shlomo Chaim told me: “He gathered all the souls that would study in Tomchei Temimim until the coming of Moshiach. He gathered them there and instilled G-dliness within them. He instilled in them strengths beyond the natural order.” And he said: “Your soul”—this is what Reb Shlomo Chaim told me—“he held in his hand for a long

05:30 Speaker 2 time. He put it a little here and a little there, and he hadn’t decided. Now we’ll see where he decided to place you.” I think the souls of all of us were in the hands of the Rebbe Rashab, were in the hands of the Frierdiker Rebbe, and are today in the hands of the Rebbe. The Rebbe brought us into Tomchei Temimim, and we need to understand the inner purpose of Tomchei Temimim. What is expected of us? What is our purpose? There is a sicha—you surely remember it—in which the Rebbe says that the Rebbe Rashab established the yeshiva in this very week, Parshas Ki Savo, when Hashem speaks of entering Eretz Yisroel, conquering the land, inheriting it and settling in it. And there is a maamar of the Alter Rebbe in which he asks: When the Jewish people entered Eretz Yisroel, how was the land divided? In two ways. In one way, it was divided logically, according to reason. A tribe with a large population received a very large portion of land; a tribe with a small population received a very small portion. In other words, Hashem divided Eretz Yisroel according to reason. On the other hand, we see that Hashem divided Eretz Yisroel by lot. What does a lot mean? Without reason. When does a person cast a lot? I remember Rabbi Yossel Weinberg telling me that when he visited a wealthy donor and didn’t know how much to ask him for—ten thousand or a hundred thousand—he would sometimes cast a lot. When does a person cast a lot? When he cannot figure out what to do through reason. His intellect, his judgment, his assessment cannot settle the matter, so he casts a lot. So on the one hand, the Jewish people entered Eretz Yisroel according to reason. On the other hand, contrary to reason, they cast

07:59 Speaker 2 lots. What are these two ideas? And the Rebbe says in the sicha that the yeshiva established in 5657 is connected with entering Eretz Yisroel and conquering it. As the Rebbe explained, there are two aspects: matters governed by reason, and matters determined by lot, beyond reason. What does it mean that Hashem makes the lot according to reason? Every person has tremendous strengths. Each tribe has areas in which it is “large in population.” Hashem gives every person qualities in which he is rich, in which he has abundance. He may have many strengths in understanding, or in sensing what another person is feeling, influencing another person or educating others. And there are areas in which Hashem makes each person “small in population,” where he does not have those strengths. Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes and says: Eretz Yisroel is not only a physical land. Eretz Yisroel is within every person—in his heart, in his inner life, in his soul—and you need to conquer it. Why do you need to conquer it? Because there are seven negative traits. You surely know many people who are very great, very wise and very understanding. But when such a person has a bad trait—a craving for indulgence or honor, or some other nonsense—suddenly that great person becomes a little man. A person must know: When I come to Eretz Yisroel, when I come to holiness, there are seven negative traits, and I have to conquer them. If I don’t, they can turn even the greatest person into the smallest person imaginable. So Hashem took Eretz Yisroel, placed it within every member of the Jewish people, and told him: Go and conquer it. And when you conquer Eretz Yisroel, you reveal the inner strengths

10:27 Speaker 2 within you, the qualities you possess. So every person needs to know: I come to Eretz Yisroel, and I have strengths; there are areas in which I am “large in population.” You receive a large territory, a great expanse of land that you need to conquer. If a person knows he has the ability to educate and influence others, he needs to take on great things and conquer them. In areas where you are “small in population,” don’t force your way in. Don’t enter fields that aren’t yours. Everyone has his own portion, his own mission. That is where you need to go. You need to discover where you are “large in population.” But where does a person begin—with where he is large, or where he is small? There’s a story you surely know. At a farbrengen, the Rashbatz was speaking, and someone heard how wisely and [unclear] he spoke. He asked him, “Rashbatz, have you ever made an error in your life? Have you ever made a mistake, or have you never made one?” The Rashbatz said, “I made a mistake.” The chossid asked him, “Where did you make a mistake?” He answered, “In assessing my strengths.” What does that mean? It doesn’t mean he thought he had more strengths than he really did. He thought he had fewer strengths than he really did. When the Rebbe Rashab heard this story from the Frierdiker Rebbe, the Rebbe Rashab said, “[unclear].” You begin your soul-searching in Elul not with your shortcomings, but with your strengths. You begin with where you are “large in population,” because then you know what you are obligated to do. And the more deeply you consider your strengths—what makes you unique, the abilities Hakadosh Boruch Hu placed within you—the more genuine your teshuvah becomes. There is a story of someone who once came to the Rebbe and asked, “Why, when chassidim bring a person closer, do they study Tanya with him? Right away, the book

12:54 Speaker 2 Tanya. Why don’t we tell him that desecrating Shabbos is forbidden, that it carries the penalty of stoning? Why don’t we tell him that sorting is forbidden on Shabbos? Why don’t we tell him about all the things he isn’t allowed to do? And he said to the Rebbe, “It’s like putting a tie on a naked person instead of dressing him first.” The Rebbe told him, “If a naked person doesn’t realize he’s naked, put a tie on him and he’ll realize it.” That is Chassidus. The Rebbe Rashab comes and says: First, see your own strengths. See the tie you have, and that will stir you to examine yourself and your shortcomings. Then you can deal with them. So first, a person needs to know his strengths, and only afterward his shortcomings. That is the meaning of Hashem’s first dividing the land according to reason and understanding. Hashem gives every person the two great luminaries. There is a sun and a moon. Every person has a sun—his strengths, his light—and he has a moon, which is darkness. And know this: Your whole task is for the sun to illuminate the moon, for your strengths to reveal that the moon, too, can shine. And in the future, the moon will be greater than the sun. So the very first task is to know: I need to know my strengths, where I have more and where I have less, and then divide the land. Then Hashem comes and says: It isn’t enough to serve in golden garments. You know that in the Beis Hamikdash they entered wearing golden garments, with their strengths. Hashem comes and says: To enter Eretz Yisroel, you need a lot. When does a person draw lots? When, according to reason, according to his understanding and his own circumstances, he can’t find an explanation or a way forward. He draws

15:17 Speaker 2 lots—going beyond reason and understanding. Hashem comes and says: You are about to enter Eretz Yisroel. Know that besides the strengths you have within reason and understanding, you have strengths beyond reason and understanding. You have the strengths of the lot, of acting without reason and understanding. And you surely know that it says every person is an entire world. In the world there are many lands, many countries. Some people live their whole lives in one country. They don’t know they have many more countries within them. Some people drive in first gear their whole lives. They don’t know that the car they’re driving has a second gear, a third gear, a fourth gear, a fifth gear, and, G-d willing, a sixth gear—or maybe it already does. You can shift yourself into still more gears. Hashem comes and says: You think your greatest strength is serving Hakadosh Boruch Hu with reason and understanding? You have another strength beyond reason and understanding: the lot. What is this service of the lot? You know, we all have times when a person says to himself, “I can’t get through this problem.” Some parents say, “I can’t get along with this child. I can get along with all the others, but not with him. I can’t deal with this problem.” There are situations Hashem brings about where a person either gives in or goes to fight, knowing, “I’ll lose this battle.” How does a person act when, according to reason and understanding, he can’t fight? Either he gives in, or he decides to fight even though he knows he won’t succeed. Hakadosh Boruch Hu comes and says: You have the strength to fight even when, according to reason and understanding,

17:37 Speaker 2 you can’t fight. You have the strength to connect to Me, says Hakadosh Boruch Hu, beyond your own reasoning. I want to tell a story. Some time ago I traveled to Argentina, to Tzvi. Do you know Tzvi Greenblatt? So, on the plane—Greenblatt. On the plane I went around to a few people to offer to put on tefillin, and suddenly I saw a man with a bit of a beard. I didn’t know whether he was Jewish, so I asked him. It turned out he was Jewish, and he put on tefillin. We started talking, and he told me: “During the Holocaust, I entered the Auschwitz camp. I had studied under the Rebbe of Ger, the Imrei Emes. I entered Auschwitz and saw barracks roughly the size of this building, but not nearly as luxurious. Eight hundred people had to sleep in those barracks without blankets, without pillows, just on pieces of wood, eight people to each piece of wood, with no heating in Poland. Anyone who’s been to Poland knows how cold it gets there. I went in and all I heard was shouting: ‘Schnell, schnell, schnell.’ Get in quickly, do everything quickly. I stood to the side and thought, ‘What’s going on here?’ I began to understand that what Hitler wanted—that the battle here wasn’t on the battlefield. The battle was here. The battle was whether we would retain the image of G-d or not. I began to understand that Hitler wanted to destroy the image of G-d within us. I began to understand that Hitler wanted us to fight one another over a crumb of bread, over a better place to sleep, over a piece of wood. And I said to myself, ‘I’m not going to give in here.’ I remembered that my Rebbe, the Imrei Emes, said that the greatest thing a person can have is Ahavas Yisroel. I decided: I’m not going to be on his level. I’m going to rise above his level, and I’m not going to think about whether I have food or not, whether

20:31 Speaker 2 I’ll stay alive or not. I’ve decided that I want to retain the image of G-d.” And he said: “I began doing acts of kindness in Auschwitz, with no money, no clothes, but with a smile. Giving someone a pat on the shoulder, asking how he is, sitting up all night listening to someone cry about how his mother or his grandfather was killed in Auschwitz—that is the greatest kindness.” And he said: “At that point, I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I was thinking about what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted me to do.” In other words, there’s a point when a person says: My ego doesn’t matter to me. My character traits and desires don’t matter to me. What matters is what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants, and I feel like a channel for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. I’m not thinking about my own circumstances. I’m thinking about Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That’s what it means. Hakadosh Boruch Hu says: A lot. You need to know that you are going to take hold of holiness. Put your ego aside. Put your animal soul aside, your character traits aside. Think about what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. When the Rebbe Rashab—when the Baal Shem Tov began Chassidus, he wanted to ignite that point of the lot within the Jewish people. He wanted to awaken that state beyond reason and understanding. You are beyond reason and understanding. You don’t think, “What are my interests? How will this help me? How won’t it help me?” You think about what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. And so, to conquer Eretz Yisroel, you need to go beyond reason and understanding. You need to think about what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. Then the Rebbe came and said that what the Rebbe Rashab instilled—that a person can go beyond measure and limitation—applies to everyone. I just want to—I’ll tell a story. I remember once, if you remember, there was once

22:57 Speaker 2 in Kfar Chabad a student named Rabbi Eliyahu P. Friedman, Reb Eli Friedman z"l. I remember that we once stood offering people the chance to put on tefillin at the central bus station—not the new one, the old one. We set up a table and helped people put on tefillin. Twenty meters, twenty meters farther ahead, a Litvish yeshivah student who studied at Slabodka came and also set up a table to help people put on tefillin. There were two tables offering tefillin. At ours, I don’t know why, there were lots of people, and at his there weren’t so many. Suddenly a man wearing a tie walked by, someone who looked more... He passed that yeshivah student, that young man—I don’t know who he was—and the student asked him to put on tefillin. The man told him, “That’s not for me, I’m sorry.” He passed our table, and Reb Eli Friedman went over to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, “Would you like to put on tefillin?” And that Jew went and put on tefillin. That student from Slabodka—I don’t know him, but I’m sure he was a very good student—stood off to the side and couldn’t understand: “Why, when I’m wearing a tie and a jacket, neat and tidy...” Anyone who remembers Reb Eli Friedman knows he never wore a tie in his life. Not when he was the director in Tzfas, and not when he came to us in Antwerp to raise donations for the yeshivah—he went without a tie. So the student couldn’t understand why the man had said no to him and yes to Reb Eli. All right, so he went over to that Jew and asked him, “I’m very glad you’re putting on tefillin. Could you perhaps explain why you’ll put on tefillin with him but not with me?” And the man said words I remember to this day. He said, “Can I tell you something that might hurt you—might offend you?” So he said to him

25:20 Speaker 2 “Yes.” So he said to him, “When you asked me to put on tefillin, I felt that you were concerned about your own World to Come. When that chossid asked me to put on tefillin, I felt that he was concerned about my World to Come.” That is Tomchei Temimim: setting oneself aside. You know, the Rebbe says that the essence of Tomchei Temimim is setting oneself aside. It is a matter of goral. Put yourself aside for someone else. I spoke with a Jew, a rosh yeshiva in Belz. He had been at Rabbi Lazarov’s shul. He came back to Antwerp and said to me, “I don’t understand you. You Lubavitchers, I don’t understand you.” “Why don’t you understand us?” He said, “You make so much noise about bringing Moshiach, yet you’re holding Moshiach back.” What, we’re holding Moshiach back? So he said that Hakadosh Boruch Hu looks at this world and sees Temimim, sees shluchim traveling to remote places in Russia with no honor, no livelihood, no personal interests, doing it only to bring people closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. They aren’t concerned about their own World to Come. Do you want Hakadosh Boruch Hu to bring Moshiach and put an end to all that? You’re holding Moshiach back. The whole point of Tomchei Temimim is setting oneself aside. Take one moment each day, once a day. Go and practice Ahavas Yisroel without personal interests. Go do one thing for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Go do one thing with wholehearted sincerity, with simple faith. I’m doing this for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the whole point of Tomchei Temimim. We aren’t tzaddikim. We can’t do it all day, but sometimes, sometimes, once a day, let’s think to ourselves: I’m doing something for the sake of Heaven. I’m doing something without personal interests. I’m doing something with the wholehearted sincerity of a child. A little child, you know, does things with complete faith, with sincerity, earnestly and with ease. He doesn’t make everything complicated. We need to come

28:02 Speaker 2 to Hakadosh Boruch Hu with that child, with that sincerity, with that truth, with that desire to act for the sake of Heaven. Because, as he said—you surely remember what is written: “How can I go up to my father if the lad is not with me?” How will we come to the Rebbe? How will we come to Hakadosh Boruch Hu and say: Here we are without the lad, without that sincerity, without that simple faith, without serving for the sake of Heaven, without personal interests? All our work is to reach the innermost point of goral, beyond reason and understanding. And then the Rebbe came and said—you surely remember—a tremendous innovation. The Rebbe said that today, in our time, the vessel is so full that it overflows. Even young married men who didn’t study at Tomchei Temimim can receive the light of a Tomim. In other words, even someone who didn’t study in Kfar Chabad, Migdal HaEmek or any of the yeshivos can receive this strength to set himself aside. And I want to tell you a story someone told me when I came here to Kfar Chabad. I arrived today. Someone told me this story and said, “You have to tell it.” There is a young married man in our community who didn’t study in Lubavitch; he studied in Vizhnitz. At one time he went without a beard. A very nice Jew, very chassidish, who holds the Rebbe in high regard and appreciates the Rebbe. When he first heard, on 27 Adar, what had happened to the Rebbe, he came into the Chabad House, brought me a letter and said, “Do me a favor—send this letter to 770.” You surely know that according to halachah, you’re not allowed to open letters, but this letter wasn’t sealed; it was open. Even so, I don’t know whether halachah permits it—no one should think that it does. But in practice, I didn’t withstand the test, and I opened the letter. It said: “To the Rebbe, shlita: Enclosed is a check for sixty-seven thousand dollars. Rebbe, I don’t have this money. I went out to gather

30:41 Speaker 2 the money, to take out loans. A thousand dollars from one person, two thousand from another, three thousand from another. Rebbe, I don’t know how I’ll pay it back. I’m sure I’ll pay it back, but I don’t know how.” Then he concluded his letter to the Rebbe and wrote: “Rebbe, just as I went beyond limitations and took out loans totaling sixty-seven thousand dollars—and Rebbe, I want you to give it to tzedakah—just as I went beyond limitations, Rebbe, you too go beyond limitations and give yourself a blessing to be healthy.” He didn’t ask for himself. He asked, “Rebbe, may you be healthy.” A person who didn’t study in Tomchei Temimim, who didn’t study Samach Vav or Ayin Beis, and he has this ability to set himself aside for the Rebbe. That is what the Rebbe said: today, what the Rebbe Rashab said about setting oneself aside applies to everyone, not only to those who studied in Tomchei Temimim. So we need to know that every single one of us has tremendous strength, immense strength to conquer the world, even when our reason and understanding tell us we don’t have the strength. We need to go lechatchila ariber. We need to know that the moment we are connected not to our own ego but to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, we can conquer the entire world. A man in America went to daven in a shul. He wasn’t a particularly religious Jew, but he came to shul. Every time, just before Birchas Kohanim, he would go outside, and the rabbi of that shul didn’t understand why. Once, that rabbi invited him home. They ate fish, meat and kugel, said a little l’chaim, and their hearts opened up. In the middle of the farbrengen, in the middle of the Shabbos meal, the rabbi said to him—here was a man who went outside every time during Birchas Kohanim—he said,

33:15 Speaker 2 “Can I ask you a personal question?” The man said yes. So he asked him, “Why do you always leave the shul during Birchas Kohanim?” At first, the Jew didn’t answer. Finally he said, “I’ll tell you a story I’ve never told anyone. I was in Auschwitz, and there were eight hundred of us in the barracks. There was one Jew we called ‘the old man.’ To this day I don’t know his name. That Jew was always encouraging us to daven. He encouraged us; he reminded us about Sukkos, Shavuos and Pesach. He reminded us of every festival. He was a rock. He held the whole barracks together, encouraged everyone and kept them alive, full of spirit. Before Pesach, that old man gathered all eight hundred people in the barracks and told them, ‘Pesach is approaching. We need shmurah matzah. Where can we find shmurah matzah?’ So he said, ‘Please, open your eyes, and above all, open your hearts, to see where there might be shmurah matzah.’” When they left Auschwitz to go—you know, those who worked in Auschwitz went out every day to cut wood in the forest outside Auschwitz. As they went to cut wood, they found a little piece of matzah, a tiny piece. They immediately understood that there was a Jew there making matzos. They said to themselves, “Let’s look for him.” You know, Jews have a sense of smell. They discovered that someone worked for the commandant of Auschwitz, a Nazi. A Jew cleaned for him, scrubbed his floors, and while the commandant was out of the house, that Jew baked matzos for himself in the oven. I once told this story to someone who wasn’t a Lubavitcher. He said to me, “But the oven wasn’t kosher, for Heaven’s sake!” I tell you, those matzos were glatt kosher, and they caused a great stir in Heaven. So they went to that Jew and said to him, “If

35:33 Speaker 2 “Are you willing to bake matzos for us?” He said, “I can’t bake many. I’ll bake two matzos.” So they baked two matzos. On Seder night, they gathered all eight hundred men in the barracks, in a barracks like this one, and gave each person a little piece of matzah. That elderly man began reciting the Haggadah, as much as he remembered by heart. He kept reciting and reciting. You know, little by little they grew excited and began singing songs, and their excitement kept building. A Nazi passed by the barracks and heard the voices. He opened the door, and all eight hundred men, who had been sitting in a circle, immediately jumped back to their wooden planks. You couldn’t call them beds. The Nazi pulled out his pistol, grabbed the man standing beside him and said, “Who organized this evening? Who organized this party, this singing? In Auschwitz you don’t sing. In Auschwitz you cry. I’ll kill you one by one until I find out who organized this evening.” That elderly man—the man who told me the story said he didn’t know his name—stood up and tore open his striped uniform. He said, “I organized it. I’m standing before you. Kill me, kill me.” The Nazi said to him, “You don’t die so quickly. Tomorrow I’ll build a platform and put you on it. I’ll set up a wooden post there, tell everyone about the terrible crime you committed, and kill you there.” And indeed, the next day they built a platform. They gathered the thousands of people in Auschwitz by the square and made them all watch as that Jew stood there and the Nazi described his great crime—what he had done on Seder night. And then that

38:04 Speaker 2 Jew said, “There’s a rule: A person who is about to die is granted a last request. I want to make one last request.” The Nazi, may his name be erased, said, “What do you want?” He answered, “I’m a Kohen. I want to give something to my brothers. I can’t give them money. I can’t give them clothes. I can’t give them shoes. All I can give them is Birkas Kohanim. I want to bless all the Jews in Auschwitz with Birkas Kohanim.” The Nazi said, “Okay.” He stood up, stretched out both hands and began, “May Hashem bless you and guard you.” The Jew who told me this said the crying at that moment was indescribable. Do you understand? A Jew is about to leave this world, to move to another home, and his thoughts aren’t about how to make it easier for himself. He’s thinking: What can I give my brothers, the Jewish people? He recited Birkas Kohanim, and the tears, he said, poured like water. When he finished the blessing, he went up Above. That Jew said, “His Birkas Kohanim saved me from assimilation. His Birkas Kohanim has kept me a Jew to this day. His Birkas Kohanim has protected my children to this day. I don’t want to hear another Birkas Kohanim, lest, G-d forbid, I forget that Jew’s Birkas Kohanim. So whenever they recite Birkas Kohanim in shul, I go outside. I don’t want to hear another one. I want to hold on to that Birkas Kohanim.” We studied in Tomchei Temimim. Every one of us dreamed of conquering the world, doing what the Rebbe wants, bringing Jews closer, bringing ourselves closer, bringing our children closer. We must not forget the Birkas Kohanim we received in Tomchei Temimim. We must not let this world, its desires, its internet, and all the

41:13 Speaker 2 things that can make us forget our purpose—we must not listen to them! Whenever we find ourselves in a situation that could, G-d forbid, make us forget the Birkas Kohanim we heard in Tomchei Temimim, we have to get out of it. We have a shlichus. The Rebbe told us that our goal is to bring Moshiach, and desire, jealousy, the pursuit of honor and the need to win want to take that shlichus away from us. Our goal is to bring Moshiach closer. Each of us must take our sons and daughters and tell them about Reb Shlomo Chaim, about Reb Mendel Futerfas, about Tomchei Temimim, about what we learned. If we donate to Tomchei Temimim, we shouldn’t do it quietly. We should bring our children: “You see? I’m donating to Tomchei Temimim because it’s the source of Chassidus. That’s where Chassidus is nurtured, where shluchim are formed, where Temimim are formed.” Where did all the shluchim around the world get their strength? Where did they get the strength for such mesiras nefesh—to leave their families and their livelihoods and go bring Jews closer? Where were they formed? In Tomchei Temimim. L’chaim, l’chaim, l’chaim! May we very, very soon merit the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu and come to the Rebbe and say, “Rebbe! We didn’t forget our Birkas Kohanim. We carried on.” And in that merit, may Hashem very soon send abundance, blessing and success to each person in their personal affairs and in our shared affairs, and may we all have nachas from our children. L’chaim, l’chaim.

43:54 Speaker 3 To say, “Welcome.”

43:59 Speaker 4 We have the pleasure of welcoming the honorable Chief Rabbi of Israel, the gaon Rabbi Shlomo Moshe Amar shlita, the Chief Rabbi and Rishon LeZion, with a welcome in the name of Hashem.

00:00 Speaker 1 Time is short. I want to invite tonight’s guest of honor right away. I know something was prepared, but we’ll forgo it because of the time. Some describe him as a major donor, a great disseminator of Torah, a founder of Torah institutions throughout the world. But I think the most fitting description, surpassing all the others, is that he has merited to be a person through whom the name of Heaven and the name of Lubavitch are sanctified throughout the world. Tonight is also the yahrzeit of his mother, of blessed memory, Mrs. Chana. Today, throughout the world—especially in the former Soviet Union, but also in Israel and elsewhere—there are Or Avner and Or Chana institutions. This is already a second generation of mesirus nefesh for spreading Torah, spreading Yiddishkeit, and spreading Chassidus. I want to invite the philanthropist Rabbi Levi Leviev HaLevi to say a few words of greeting. Please.

01:33 Speaker 2 Good evening. Honored Chief Rabbi, Rishon LeZion Rabbi Amar shlita: even before you came to know me through Chabad, you were known as a true friend of Chabad. Wherever you go, at every opportunity, you speak about it. You remember to express gratitude to the Rebbe and never forget that he made sure to send devoted shluchim everywhere in the world—to Bukhara, to Morocco, and everywhere else—who left a mark through their tremendous work. I see the Chabad rabbis here—in fact, all the distinguished people of Chabad. I think everyone here is more of a rabbi than I am. It is a great honor for me to be here. As we heard, and as we already saw in the film, and as Rabbi Slobodsky said in his moving remarks, children need a Chabad education and support for Chabad and Tomchei Temimim from an early age. That reminded me of something that happened before I had even turned twelve. My father, of blessed memory, called me over and said, “Listen, next year you’re not going to school anymore.” In Russia, not going to school was actually a criminal offense; they checked up on it. “You’re going away. There’s a place where you can learn Torah.” What kind of place it was, he didn’t elaborate. He just said, “You’re going.” Where was I going? “To Samarkand. But you’re not going to your uncles or your aunts or to anyone else. It’s a secret. You’re going.” I was very happy to be getting out of school, and we set off. We arrived in Samarkand. It was a very secret operation. They warned me and frightened me into not talking about it, because it was a matter of life and death, G-d forbid. Before I left, I said to my father, “Give me some money. I’m going away—do you want me to run an errand for you? Maybe this is a chance for you to give me some pocket money for once?” He said, “Money? The time for that will come too. You don’t need money. Wherever you’re going, everything is provided. Go.” And he gave me an envelope to hand over when I got there, at the school. When I arrived, I put the

03:55 Speaker 2 suitcase under the bed, but I couldn’t resist. I said to myself, “I’ll open the envelope and see what’s inside.” I opened it and saw twenty-five-ruble notes. Each note was half a month’s wages for a laborer. It was a lot of money. I thought, “I wonder who needs to be given so much money?” Anyway, they took me out at night, in the dark. They said, “Take your suitcase. You’re going.” We arrived at an address somewhere in the city, not in the old city. Everything was frightening; everything was secret. We weren’t allowed to talk. They brought us into a place where I met about ten boys my age. They said, “This is where you’ll learn Torah.” The truth is, when my children complain about the food in yeshiva, or about food in general, I tell them, “I don’t remember eating anything hot at all for an entire year.” But we ate a healthy diet: lots of vegetables, onions, grapes. On Fridays that was apparently in place of fish and meat, but it was what we had. We couldn’t leave the yeshiva, and everything had to be kept secret and done only under cover of darkness. Once a month we could go out, one at a time, without looking back or ahead. More than once we were followed, and we felt that we were carrying out a mission that required mesirus nefesh. But I held on to the envelope because I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. Eventually a Jewish man arrived and said, “I’ve come back from Tashkent, and your father sent something with you. Why haven’t you handed it over?” Then I had no choice: I handed it over and parted with the envelope. In fact, that was the first lesson I received: at the very least, someone entrusted with money for a mitzvah must not be stingy with it—how much more so with money he earns himself, which he should invest in tzedakah. When we talk about Chabad, there are so many moving things. As I said, we could go on talking indefinitely. There are events where you have to

06:11 Speaker 2 struggle to find what to say, what to praise, or how to speak highly of the occasion. I think that everything connected with the Chabad movement, and especially with the Lubavitcher Rebbe, will one day be studied at the world’s best universities, in every field. In economics: how to develop something, how to sustain it, and how it grows from year to year. In the wider world, if revenue rises five percent in a year, that’s an enormous achievement. If it rises seven percent, that’s... But growth of thirty percent every year is unheard of. It defies every law of world economics—really, the laws of nature. Public relations, PR, as practiced in Chabad, is also unlike anything anywhere else. But to take a simple example: we saw a picture of the place where Chabad students learned. And the truth is, not so long ago—though I’m no longer young—when we came to Israel in ’71, I too had the privilege of learning at the train station there in Lod. After that we learned in Kiryat Malachi with Rabbi Mottel Kozliner, of blessed memory. We slept in the ulpan; there was a basement downstairs, if anyone remembers. That’s where we slept. To tell the truth, as the saying goes, is it enough that I ate Chabad kasha to say I learned a lot there? No. I was looking for ways to earn money, picking oranges at night. I was thinking about business all the time. But apparently that same kasha we ate still had an effect. I look at how much it has grown over the past thirty-six or thirty-seven years. And it is well known—the books tell us—that when the Frierdiker Rebbe arrived in the United States, it was hard even to gather a minyan. Not to mention that there was no money for the most essential things, such as putting up a tombstone, and so on. We see how it has flourished over time. You could call it a theory. You could come up with all sorts of explanations. But I think that, ultimately, it is the genuine spirit instilled in the yeshivas, the right direction taught in Chabad yeshivas,

08:43 Speaker 2 the very way they teach a person to give, and the way they speak about it and explain it—that is the victory of the whole endeavor. The fact that every young man knows he is going to learn in order to devote his knowledge, his time, and his future to the next generation speaks for itself. We see it, boruch Hashem. There was a time when Chabad took pride in having a yeshiva with fifty students. Today, most of us don’t know how many Chabad yeshivas there are. I’m sure no one sitting here in this hall knows the exact number of Chabad yeshivas in the world. No one knows. Anyone could be off by ten yeshivas either way. Today, Tomchei Temimim has spread everywhere, boruch Hashem. But it is very interesting, and very strange, to think where all of this actually began to grow: from the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva whose occasion we are marking here. And it is very sad to hear. It seems to be something ordained from Heaven: all the yeshivas are growing and developing, and they all, in fact, came from this one yeshiva. They were all educated here, all trained here, and received here the genuine inner substance and Chassidus as it should be. Everywhere else, boruch Hashem, things are going well. But here there are always the same troubles: living from hand to mouth, as they say, and so on. It’s very easy, when people come to me and I don’t want to give money, to start giving advice instead. Yes. So I’ll say it must be ordained from Heaven; apparently that’s how it has to be. Bread—and what’s the expression?—and we’ll drink water. But I’m certain that anything can be changed. I’m certain that if the dream the Rebbe always spoke of concerning those behind the Iron Curtain could be made a reality—look at what has happened there over the last fifteen or sixteen years. There is simply nothing like it. We look at the development

10:58 Speaker 2 The great thing that exists there. You might think: the Rebbe’s blessing, of course. But why beyond that? Why does it succeed? Because new, young shluchim arrive with tremendous energy and determination. I think most of them don’t remember—I don’t know how much they even remember the Rebbe, because they’re all young. Everyone who starts out comes with boundless energy. They arrive there, and there’s work to do wherever you go, not just in the former Soviet republics. I was just in the Baltic countries and in Scandinavia. Wherever you go, you see the same Chabad shliach. If the local community has money, that means trouble for the shliach. If it’s a poor community with no money, then the shliach is king. Everywhere they start from zero, and you meet people who come and express their gratitude for the guidance, the hospitality, the warmth and the work of those young men you see in every place. In fact, you see it all over the world. To be honest, I personally don’t feel there’s been any kind of revolution in Israel. On the contrary, I feel that, for some reason, there’s been a certain decline in activity in Israel, in my opinion. But anyone can say it’s because of politics, because people get mixed up in one thing or another. I hope things will be sorted out here too, and we’re ready to help so that a spirit of new activity will come here as well, and so on. Less politics, more action. But if we look overall at the number of yeshivos, we have an Ohr Avner yeshiva here in Kfar Sitrin where more than 220 boys enrolled this year—boys. Imagine, in one yeshiva, and almost all of them are yeshiva students. It’s easy to say that number, but getting there takes many years of work, high standards, good rabbis and a major financial investment. But overall, as time goes on, I see the results and the fruits of what’s happening. The Tomchei Temimim yeshiva in Moscow,

13:17 Speaker 2 we have yeshivos in Ukraine, we have many yeshivos in Russia, and, boruch Hashem, we have Ohr Avner institutions without end. There’s no question. So many people say: fine, when the director or the leader is there, the enterprise flourishes. But what about now? After all, quite a few years have passed, and since then everything has been growing and multiplying at an even faster pace, everywhere. We recently had a camp here in Kfar Sitrin just for children of shluchim from the former Soviet republics. We ran out of room. There were more than 200 children of shluchim there. I don’t know whether people in Chabad itself grasp the scale of it and the tremendous success. It’s a miracle in its own right, and that’s what I mean when I say they’ll study it at every university and want to copy it, but they’ll never understand it. Because to succeed, you have to do it out of deep faith. As they said, we’re faithful servants whose job is to make the Master known—not to publicize yourself, not to publicize us, not to say that we did it, but to bring soul into it. And there’s no shortage of stories. I won’t start telling you them; you probably know them by heart already—all the well-known Chabad stories about dedication, self-sacrifice and personal effort. We see it everywhere a shliach arrives and gives himself over to hard work. Nothing is easy at the beginning. Before long, you see each of those young men, after five, six or seven years in a place, become an important and respected rabbi in the community. As I say, that same young man officiates at kiddushin, conducts weddings, goes to funerals, G-d forbid, dances with everyone at the Purim celebrations and brings everyone joy. He goes and represents the community before the mayor and the governor. He’s really everything: he helps bring peace to homes, he does everything in the community, and you see a young man who is admired. So

15:31 Speaker 2 people ask me, they say: “I’ve seen several Chabad rabbis already. You’d think they were Siamese twins. How are they all the same, made from the same mold—not in their faces, but in the way they lead and behave?” It’s the school. It’s the school here, where it all began, as we said—right here. It began here, with those seeds planted by the Chabad rabbis who were sent to Samarkand a hundred years ago. I said at one of the events that we also see the fruits of a long-term investment. We say it’s all with help from Heaven, all in the merit of our forefathers, all because of blessings. But a hundred years ago, when Rabbi Eliezerov arrived in Samarkand, the rabbis—not just the community leaders—didn’t want to accept him. They said: “What’s this boy doing here? He hasn’t even grown a beard yet. He’s coming to teach us that certain things shouldn’t be done this way or that? No, that’s impossible.” It didn’t take long. He understood that he mustn’t give up. There was no choice. Who could they gather? Children who were orphans, or whose mothers were widows, or whose families had no money. So they gathered ten children, my grandfather among them, and invested in them. And forty years later, during World War II, there were in fact no rabbis in the Bukharian community in Samarkand other than those ten rabbis who had been trained by Rabbi Eliezerov. They were the rabbis; they were the ones sent to Siberia; they were the ones who risked their lives. And there were many rabbis. You surely know them; you’ve heard a great deal about them. Just this Shabbos we were talking about Rabbi Raphael Khudaydatov, who—our home was like a hotel. There was no kosher food in the city, and any Jew who arrived from another city came straight to our home. We offered hospitality; the door was open. And it wasn’t like today, when you order something and they bring it to you with Rabbi Landau’s hechsher. You had to go and wait. They slaughtered once every two weeks, and you had to wait and pray it would turn out glatt.

17:45 Speaker 2 Then we would bring it home by evening, kasher the meat, and go through that whole process. Every evening guests arrived from all over, so we had to receive them and host them, and it was all done at home. It wasn’t easy. Not easy at all. Those people did it for many years, with self-sacrifice. I’m telling you, women of our generation today don’t understand it: bringing people into your home like that, hosting people at home. At one point, articles against Rabbi Raphael Khudaydatov appeared in Russian newspapers. They called him “a devil who won’t rest.” He was constantly speaking out against the authorities. There was an incident involving a mikvah in Samarkand. They came to him, raided his house and found a mikvah. They said, “You’re doing something illegal.” He said, “No, it’s not a mikvah, it’s not a mikvah. It’s water. I store drinking water here.” So they said, “What do you mean, drinking water?” They drew some out and said, “This water is contaminated.” He said, “What?” He dipped in a cup, said the blessing “by Whose word everything came into being,” and drank the water. He said, “I drink it every day, and I look just fine.” Then he returned to Tashkent and went to demonstrate outside the Party Central Committee—the, lehavdil, holy of holies of the Communists. He came and told the story at our house, and my father asked him, “When was that?” He said, “Today.” So my father asked, “And where did you go from there?” He said, “I came to your house.” My father said, “You came straight here from there? They’ll put us in prison. What are you doing?” That was the self-sacrifice of Jews who had learned and been brought up that way, and didn’t think twice about what would happen to them. That’s the kind of self-sacrifice there was in Russia. It’s very easy to be a Chabad chossid in Israel. It’s easy to be one, easy to shout slogans and think that will bring Moshiach. Yes, but

19:39 Speaker 2 To be a true Moshiachist, to give, to show mesirus nefesh, to be a true Jew and a true Chabad chossid, to do the work at risk to your life and your entire family—that is real mesirus nefesh. Those were the Jews who were there. And we see that years have passed, thank G-d. Here we are today: our children are already studying at Tomchei Temimim, and I hope our grandchildren will study there too. We look back at that investment, when that young man, Rabbi Eliezerov, arrived, and we see ourselves standing here on this stage today. I always tell this story at events wherever I go around the world, and I say: that is what you call a long-term investment. The Rebbe Rashab sent a shliach, and look what is happening today. We are flourishing throughout the former Soviet Union, flourishing everywhere. Government officials come to me. Governors come to me and say, “Explain to us how you are so successful.” When we speak among ourselves, I say: if only we received here in Israel the kind of warmth and support we receive from the governors, from the mayors, from the public. The Jews in Russia are warm Jews, each of whom wants to come closer to Yiddishkeit and wants to do something. But let’s come back again to why we are here. We’re coming back to this event. I mean, when speaking about Tomchei Temimim, about the yeshiva, I certainly cannot speak this evening without mentioning Reb Ephraim Wolf, a"h, and Berke Wolf, a"h. Reb Ephraim was not someone who was always looking for headlines, or for his picture to appear online twenty-four hours a day, or posing in all sorts of ways so his picture would be in the newspaper. No, he was a simple, sincere Jew. Every month he would come to my father’s office to collect the check, and suddenly you would come out and—

21:40 Speaker 2 Reb Ephraim would arrive and tell the secretary, “I’m here.” And if the secretary forgot, he could sit for an hour saying Tehillim quietly, without disturbing anyone. He had a refinement that made you think he had been born, I don’t know, in a royal palace in Switzerland. Such perfect refinement... not what you expect from a Chabad chossid who is always asking, “Did you put on tefillin or not?” He was a truly exceptional man. Reb Ephraim Wolf left his mark, and we see it in his children, who carry on his work wherever they are today. We see the institutions flourishing and growing at a dizzying pace. We see work being done, work, work, work. The children certainly see that at home, and it gets passed on, as they say. It is passed down through action and through education. If only we merit to see all our descendants follow those same paths. But since we are here, speaking about the issue weighing on this institution, I always say: thousands of young men passed through here and studied in this yeshiva. Today, each one is somewhere in the world, serving as a shliach, and thank G-d, they are all doing well. If each one made a one-time donation of a hundred dollars, two hundred dollars—I’m not even talking about tens of thousands of dollars—we could raise twenty million shekels, thirty million shekels in a single evening and solve all the problems. But when that doesn’t happen, the shortfall remains, and the problems of the past remain, and the problems of the past remain. I think the yeshiva here should be the great, central yeshiva. To make a distinction, when I travel in Europe, I ask, “What is the most beautiful building in the city?” It’s the university—the Sorbonne, some other university. Non-Jews hold their institutions in high regard. Now, it’s true that some of the finest educators in Chabad came out of those makeshift buildings we just saw here, while in magnificent universities the exact opposite may happen.

23:45 Speaker 2 But we need to learn from everyone to honor the institution, to honor what was dear to the Rebbe. This institution was indeed among the most important and dearest to the Rebbe, and I think each of us has an obligation to help, as much as we can. I want to encourage you. With Hashem’s help, we do support it regularly, and we will certainly continue to do so. But beyond fine words, each of us needs to make an additional effort. I think this institution is an example and a model, considering the rabbis and shluchim around the world it has produced to this very day. It is one of the oldest institutions in Chabad, and I am sure it has brought much nachas to the Chabad Rebbeim. I am sure it will continue to bring much, much nachas to the rabbis of Chabad. All the yeshivos drew their strength from this yeshiva here. Thank you very much for inviting me. Wishing you success. Thank you.

00:06 Speaker 1 Yasher koach, Rabbi Levi. I think that before this evening is over, another yeshiva or Chabad House will open somewhere in the world, perhaps in Ir Avner[?] or Ir Kahana[?]. But an outsider cannot understand it. Perhaps they’ll study it at universities, but they’ll never understand it. How does Coca-Cola put it in its advertising? “Beware of imitations.” This is something of ours: we have the Rebbe’s strength, and no one understands it. Rabbi Levi mentioned the time they spent in prison. I once heard Rabbi Shmuel Levitin, the mashpia, say: “Sitting in prison for one year is an obligation. Two years is already a hiddur mitzvah. A third year is already an unseemly act—that’s already for a non-Jew.” The film we saw earlier mentioned Rabbi Leibel Raskin. I remember that when the Rishon LeZion was appointed Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv, Rabbi Raskin called me from Morocco, overjoyed. He wanted to offer his congratulations. He did write a letter, and he told me, “We have it on record that he studied for a time in Chabad institutions.” And as was mentioned earlier, that the Rebbe Rashab chose the souls who would study at Tomchei Temimim, I have the pleasure and the privilege of inviting a personal friend and a friend of the Chabad House, the esteemed Rabbi, Chief Rabbi Shlomo Moshe Amar shlita, the Rishon LeZion, to come and offer his blessing at this special evening marking 110 years of Tomchei Temimim.

02:15 Speaker 2 With the permission of my teachers and esteemed colleagues, the distinguished rabbis, the Chabad rabbis, Rabbi Mordechai Ashkenazi, public figures, and this entire holy gathering, may you all live and be well. The Torah has always endured only through mesirus nefesh—self-sacrifice—in every time and every place. The Torah has never endured without it. Mesirus nefesh is the secret of the Jewish people’s survival and the secret of the Torah’s endurance. In recent generations, we saw the mesirus nefesh of the Chabad Rebbes and those close to them throughout Russia under a harsh, cruel regime. Then the need for mesirus nefesh stood out most sharply. It was clearer then that without mesirus nefesh, the Torah could not endure at all. The great wonder is that amid their self-sacrifice, amid the hardship and the pressure of finding a way to survive themselves, they cared for the most distant places. And this work of the shluchim, which began a very long time ago, has proved that it sustains Torah throughout the world—and that, too, takes self-sacrifice. When I think of those first shluchim who came to Morocco straight from Russia, almost straight from prison, like Rabbi Shlomo Matusov—may Hashem grant him a complete recovery—and his colleagues who came, I see a special kind of self-sacrifice. To go to a country he had never known or even heard of, a foreign country where, by all he knew, he could not survive; an Arab country whose language and customs he did not know, where he did not know how to find his way—and still to go there. Even if he had only wanted to survive there himself, the questions would have been enormous and the difficulty immense. But he came not just to survive; he came to sustain others: to educate the Jewish children there, establish institutions, teach Torah to Jews, and instill in them a spirit of holiness and self-sacrifice. These things are truly beyond comprehension. And so success was never measured by the size of the buildings, the quality of the facilities, or anything material. Success was always measured by the degree of self-sacrifice.

06:30 Speaker 2 This is the fundamental difference between the sages of Israel and the wise men of the nations of the world in every matter, right up to our day. Even now, the wise men of the nations and their scientists also want to bring progress to the world. So they make things for us on the outside. They made telephones, cars, airplanes, fax machines—what haven’t they made for us? Things so remarkable you can hardly believe them. All to make life easier and more pleasant. When people once wanted to do laundry—and we still remember this—who dreamed of a washing machine? They washed by hand. Even a family with many children washed everything by hand, cooked over charcoal, and had to draw water or buy it from a water seller. And there was peace, life was pleasant, there was time, and people could sit and talk to one another. When someone wanted a cup of tea, it took two hours. Today there are washing machines and telephones and airplanes and fax machines, and no one has time. You hear it constantly from young and old: “No time, no time, I don’t have time.” When our Sages, of blessed memory, wanted to make life pleasant for a person, to make it easier and better, they did not go looking for things outside him. They spoke about the person’s inner life: being content with little, rejoicing in one’s portion, teaching oneself to seek the spiritual rather than the material. It was all about the inner life. Those who sought to improve things from the outside came away empty-handed. They made nothing easier. And if that is true of material life, how much more so of Torah and the education of this generation and generations to come. The measure, therefore, is mesirus nefesh; that is what produces results. You can build large, beautiful, magnificent buildings and do tremendous things, yet see no results. But when there is genuine mesirus nefesh—and I think that in our generation, sadly, this lofty undertaking, perhaps the finest and holiest of all the undertakings initiated by the Rebbes, namely

09:45 Speaker 2 shlichus, has weakened somewhat today. A little of the genuine mesirus nefesh has been replaced by other things. That is a shame, a decline we should regret. As we celebrate Tomchei Temimim today, we must aspire to return to that same wholeheartedness. It was not called Tomchei Temimim for nothing: it was meant to support that inner wholeheartedness, to guard it with the greatest care, because it is what sustained and raised generations of Torah scholars and leaders. If, G-d forbid, we lose even a little of that wholeheartedness, it cannot be measured in numbers. Nothing can make up for or repair that terrible loss. The leaders of the community—all of us, too—must do everything in our power to preserve those practices with complete wholeheartedness, which brings wholeness to our actions, so that we can continue along the path laid out by those who came before us. “If you do not know, O fairest of women, go forth in the footsteps of the flock and pasture your young goats.” We should not seek novelties, but rebuild the ruins of Jerusalem and continue along that same path. May it be Hashem’s will that, with His help, we merit to continue in the ways of our fathers and our teachers without deviating at all, neither to the right nor to the left. “You shall spread forth to the right and to the left, and you shall revere Hashem.” Let us follow this path, preserve the old road forged by those who came before us, and continue along it. And with Hashem’s help, may we merit to be inscribed and sealed for good, immediately in the book of the righteous, and may we merit the revelation of Moshiach Tzidkeinu speedily in our days, peacefully and calmly. Amen and amen.

12:37 Speaker 3 On behalf of the entire gathering, we wish the Chief Rabbi robust health and many years in his position, and a good inscription and sealing, a good and sweet year, with everything he needs. Before we introduce... before we introduce the next speaker, the final speaker, I want to thank, first and foremost, the director, Rabbi Menashe, for all his hard work and organization. Rabbi Goshen[?] and his wife, Sudokovitz[?], who worked with all their might day and night; Rabbi Leidy Velnkin[?], Rabbi Schneur Fleishman, Rabbi Zusha Wolf, Rabbi Yossi Halperin, the well-known Yossi Bari, and Shmulik Haber. Thanks also to Rivkin Catering, the photographer Meir Dahan, Rabbi Zalman Stemler for the spirits—which I think we can still say l’chaim over—and Rabbi Meir Borkis for the wine. We also ask everyone to say l’chaim and bless Rabbi Uri—Rabbi Uri ben Chana Rochel, Rabbi Rafael Amos ben Chana Leah, and Rabbi Alter Aharon Shmuel ben Ethel—with a complete and speedy recovery. Last but not least, a blessing for success for Rabbi Natzin[?] and Rabbi Elior. Now, our next speaker—I don’t think he needs an introduction. Most of us studied under him or his students, and for nearly sixty years he has been drawing from his teacher’s Torah and sharing it with others. The mashpia, the chozer, the distinguished chossid Rabbi Yoel Kahn, whom we have all been waiting to hear, has come especially for this gathering. We ask Reb Yoel to come forward.

15:33 Speaker 4 A-after all the talks, and especially after the film—sometimes a film has even more of an impact than words. I understand that when students who learned here watch a film, it brings back memories, and memories stir the emotions of the heart. And... after the talks and the film, I really don’t know whether there is anything more to add. Nevertheless, I have to say something. First, I wanted to offer a little criticism. I saw it in the newspaper, in the Kfar Chabad news—I no longer remember where. The gathering was called a gathering of “graduates”—graduates of the student body. What a foreign term. I’ve never heard such a word. Graduates, graduates of the student body. What does “graduates” mean? A graduation certificate? Among the nations they say someone “graduated” from school. That’s not it; it’s a different word. Temimim, as has been mentioned several times, is their very name. I don’t know exactly, and I don’t presume to define such things. There is Chassidus, which the Baal Shem Tov established, and then what [unclear] Chabad in particular. In Chassidus there is a distinction between a tzaddik and a chossid, and between a chossid and a person of intellect. Then, within Chabad itself, each generation certainly adds greater depth and breadth. But here something new was created: a name, a new name, Temimim. Now, there is the name “chossid,” and it is a fine name. If a distinctive name is used, it is surely obvious that it signifies something deeper. I don’t know what, but at any rate it clearly signifies something—not something external. And the name tam, not necessarily the name Temimim: both in the Frierdiker Rebbe’s institutions and with our Rebbe, we see that “Tamim” is used specifically as a title for those currently learning in yeshiva. As the Frierdiker Rebbe sometimes writes, “haRav haTamim”—

18:11 Speaker 4 “Rabbi, the Tamim.” For those who are no longer within the walls of the yeshiva, there is another name, a new name: tam. To call them “graduates” is rather jarring. I once heard a story, though I don’t remember the person’s name. He was one of the students in Lubavitch—one of the students in Lubavitch itself. They say that after he married, he had a family and a store. Customers don’t come into a store all the time, so between one customer and the next, he would sit and learn. What did he learn? He would first check what the schedule was in the yeshiva right then. Was it time for nigleh or for Chassidus? If it was time for nigleh, he learned nigleh. Within nigleh, was it time for Gemara or for Shulchan Aruch? If it was time for Chassidus, he learned Chassidus. Someone asked him, “What is this all about? Set yourself a study schedule—learn so much Gemara. Why does it matter to you what they’re doing in the yeshiva right now?” He replied, “What do you mean? I’m actually in the yeshiva. It’s just that I remember that when I was in yeshiva, my mother was once ill, and I asked the mashgiach for permission to go home. He gave me permission. So what does that mean? He gave me permission to go home.” Now, he understood it this way: after he married and had a wife and children, he assumed that if he had asked the mashgiach for permission to be in the store, the mashgiach would certainly have given it to him. Why? He had to support his family. But that didn’t mean he was no longer in yeshiva. He was a student in yeshiva, so if the schedule right now was nigleh, he learned nigleh. He wasn’t in the store. What had happened? He had asked the mashgiach for permission

20:24 Speaker 4 to go. Of course, such a feeling is very lofty, a very high level. Nevertheless, in a certain sense this is one of the ideas—not just one of them; perhaps it can be called the central idea—of Chassidus in general, of Chabad even more so, and within Chabad, of the way the Rebbe established the connection between Chassidus and nigleh over these three generations: as it was with the Rebbe, certainly with the Frierdiker Rebbe, and even more so with the Rebbe. One of the central questions is: How do we look at the world, and how do we look at a person? The Rebbe once explained the meaning of Chai Elul. He explained it this way: Elul, as is known, alludes to all the paths of serving Hashem. There are acronyms alluding to Torah, others to avodah, and themes encompassing every area. So the concerns of Elul—that is, Torah, avodah, and the other concerns of Jewish life—what are they? Are they something added to a person, or are they his very life? Without Chassidus, even if someone is thoroughly G-d-fearing, a great scholar, and all the rest, these things can still be something added to him. Chassidus introduced the understanding that this is his very being, his life. Without it, he is not alive. What does that mean? It is quite simple. The Rebbe spoke many times about the statement of the Gemara that he would always cite: “I was created to serve my Maker,” or, according to the other version, “I was created only to serve my Maker.” It is a statement in the Gemara, and seemingly everyone knows it. Nevertheless, you don’t hear anyone else speaking about this statement. You heard it all the time at the Rebbe’s farbrengens. What does it mean? The Rebbe once explained it. The question is: What are Torah and mitzvos? Are they something added to a person, or are they his essence? Without Chassidus, one might look at it this way: There is a world, and the world existed for many years—

22:45 Speaker 4 more than two thousand years—before the Giving of the Torah. There is a world. Then Hakadosh Boruch Hu came and gave the Torah, saying, “This is permitted and that is forbidden. This must be done this way, and that must be done that way.” What does that mean? It means that a person is a person and the world is the world, and now something is being imposed on what already exists. But one can look at it differently. Take the mitzvah of tefillin, for example. Tefillin is a broad example. You can look at it like this: You ask a person, “Who are you?” “What do you mean, who am I? I’m Reuven; I’m Shimon. It’s just that Hakadosh Boruch Hu came and said that tefillin must be placed on this arm and this head.” What is the arm? What is the head? The arm is an arm and the head is a head. That is the person. But you can look at it differently: There is Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and there is nothing besides Him. Nothing exists apart from Him, and He wants Torah and mitzvos. One of those mitzvos is tefillin. How is tefillin carried out? Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted tefillin. What is the mitzvah of tefillin, and how is it carried out? For there to be parchment, there must be an animal. For there to be an arm, there must be a person. And there is another aspect of tefillin: they must be placed on the arm and the head. So there is a person with an arm and a head. That is how the mitzvah of tefillin is carried out. What is the difference between these two outlooks? They are poles apart. In the first outlook, what is a person? A person is a person, and the world is the world. Then Torah and mitzvos come and say, “With this arm and this head, you must do this and that.” But there is another outlook: Only one thing exists—the oneness of Hashem. As the Baal Shem Tov taught, there is nothing besides Him; no other existence exists. And what is a person? This is how the mitzvah of tefillin is carried out. Reb [unclear] would

24:40 Speaker 4 always give an example from the laws of Shabbos: someone carries out food amounting to less than the minimum measure in a vessel. The ruling is that he is exempt even for the vessel. The food does not amount to the required measure, but why is he exempt for the vessel too? It’s simple: Is he carrying out a vessel, or is he carrying out food? He is carrying out food. It’s just that the way to carry out food is in a vessel. And this is how the Rebbe explained the statement of the Gemara: “I was created only to serve my Maker.” What is there? Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants there to be Jews, for there to be the Jewish people and the Torah, for there to be the service of their Maker. So how is that carried out? How can tefillin be carried out? Through an arm and a head. But what are they? He is not carrying out a vessel for its own sake. The vessel is simply the means through which the food is carried out; that is its whole purpose. For a person to have such an outlook firmly in mind—this is not a particular detail. It is an overall outlook, a change in my entire way of looking at things. Chassidus began with this in a more abstract form. Then it came to be described in the Chabad approach, so that it could be understood—which is wonder upon wonder. Within the very bounds of intellect and perceived reality, it should be understood intellectually. What should be understood? That it should be settled in the mind and understood that a person is nothing, and that all existence is only complete bittul. And within Chabad itself, we must not forget what Tomchei Temimim is about: the Rebbe’s well-known sicha about those who go out to fight the battle of the House of David. That is what Tomchei Temimim is about. What is the battle of the House of David? To bring about the revelation of Moshiach. What is the revelation of Moshiach? There is opposition to that revelation, and the students of Tomchei Temimim must finish the battle and bring about the revelation of Moshiach. How? What do you do in this battle, and how do you win it? That sicha says: “Not by might and not by power, but by My spirit.” It explains

27:00 Speaker 4 What does “not by might and not by power” mean? Might and power—in the plain sense, there is no need for them at all; they must be ruled out entirely. He said, “Not by might and not by power.” He said this is not just a moral lesson. There is a moral lesson, as he said in the sicha, but “not by might and not by power, but by My spirit.” And “My spirit,” he said, means an inner revelation, something deeper. We simply have to bring Chassidus into people’s lives. That is what it means to be soldiers of the House of David. And in the last generation before the coming of Moshiach, Tomchei Temimim was added, bringing even more strength to the work of “your wellsprings shall spread outward.” What does “your wellsprings shall spread outward” mean? Simply—plain and simple. To explain it further: another Jew should learn a chapter of Tanya, and another Jew should learn a chapter of Tanya, and another Jew should learn a maamar of Chassidus, and another Jew should learn Likkutei Sichos. That is what “your wellsprings shall spread outward” means. It is as simple as it sounds. What does this have to do with Moshiach? What is Moshiach? What is Moshiach? Moshiach means “all flesh shall see that the mouth of Hashem has spoken”: it will be revealed throughout the world, and in everything one will sense that its reality is not itself but the word of Hashem. “I was created only to serve my Maker.” That is what we have to spread throughout the world. How do we spread it? In the most straightforward way, of course: organize another class and another class. And it starts there. It starts with the students themselves. There are Jews who have merited to be shluchim, and there are those who have merited to work in yeshivos—that too is a shlichus. Some have merited to be shluchim out there. And there are Jews who are businesspeople. So what does that mean? What does it mean for a businessperson to be a graduate of Tomchei Temimim? That too is a shlichus, a different kind of shlichus. There is shlichus in one form and shlichus in another. It’s interesting. There is a rule in the Gemara, in halachah: “One who gives freely should not give away more than a fifth.” What does that mean?

29:08 Speaker 4 “One who gives freely should not give away more than a fifth”—what does that mean? At first glance, it’s astonishing. A Jew wants to give tzedakah, and the Torah tells him, “No! You may not give more.” He wants to give tzedakah! Why do we say he should not give away more than a fifth? The Rebbe once said: It isn’t your money; you aren’t the one in charge. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gave you all of it. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is in charge. And the Divine intent is that part of the money be given as tzedakah—part of the money. How will the rest be connected with Hashem’s sovereignty? Through giving tzedakah, and through using the other part in a way that fulfills “all your deeds should be for the sake of Heaven.” So you have no right to change the arrangement Hakadosh Boruch Hu established. What does that mean? It means that certain things were given to you, and you need to use them for your personal needs. “All your deeds”—seemingly, those are not mitzvos. “All your deeds,” and “in all your ways, know Him.” So you cannot do whatever you want with that money either. Hakadosh Boruch Hu also says that a certain portion of the money must be given as tzedakah. We tell a Jew he has to give this amount, and it is written that this money is not his; it is held in trust. That is not a new idea from the Rebbe’s sichos; it was written earlier. It is even written in the revealed teachings of Torah. In Yoreh De’ah it says that Hakadosh Boruch Hu entrusted you with money to give to them—so give it to them. Now, how do we see here that it belongs to Hakadosh Boruch Hu? How is His ownership expressed? By telling you that you are not in charge. It isn’t yours. This portion may not remain in your possession; you must give it away. So how is His authority expressed there? By negating

31:17 Speaker 4 your ownership. By saying: you do not own it; you must give this money away. Here the Rebbe brings out a much deeper point. No, you must not give it away. It must remain in your possession—it needs to remain in your possession. Why? Because that is the Divine intent. The Divine intent is that this portion be used for “all your deeds should be for the sake of Heaven.” That is an entirely new dimension. In general, and especially in the Rebbe’s maamarim and sichos, it is very, very striking that the entire focus is serving Hashem—not by negating worldly existence, but within that existence itself. This is one example. We say: No, don’t give this away; it has to stay in your possession. When we say money is entrusted to you specifically to give away, we say it is not yours. It is a deposit in your hands. It belongs to the poor person. The Master of the Universe gave you this money temporarily so that you would give tzedakah. Give it—it belongs to the poor person, not to you. Here we say something different: it really is yours, and you may not give it to someone else. It has to stay with you. With you? Then is it yours? No. Why is it yours? Because that is the Divine intent: that it should be yours. And so, to return to our subject: perhaps there is a Jew who serves his Rebbe but is not a shliach, or who learned in Tomchei Temimim but is not visibly a shliach. He serves his Rebbe. Perhaps his shlichus is even deeper. He is, outwardly, a businessman engaged in commerce—but what is on his mind while he is doing business? That is in Hayom Yom. The ways of Chassidus, as it says there—what are the ways of Chassidus? It says in Hayom Yom to make use of every day. When he meets someone, he remembers to arrange a class, to bring another Jew closer to Yiddishkeit. It is speaking quite simply about a class in Chassidus. [unclear]. I think this gathering should give everyone something.

33:41 Speaker 4 When a large crowd gathers, that is beautiful and very good; “in the multitude of people is the King’s glory.” It is certainly a great thing. But while we are here, when a few people, friends, sit together, they should speak with one another about strengthening the Chassidus classes. There has to be “your wellsprings shall spread outward.” So let us begin with the “outside” within ourselves. It should simply be apparent: “All who see them will recognize them, for they are offspring whom Hashem has blessed.” It doesn’t matter whether someone is a shliach, a mashpia, a rosh yeshivah, or a businessperson. Whatever he is, he has to be a Tomim. What does it mean to be a Tomim? First of all, to conduct oneself like a Tomim in every respect. Wherever there are a few Jews who merited to learn in Tomchei Temimim, they should arrange a class—several classes each week. One class on Shabbos morning. People should see Jews learning Chassidus together. And it is no terrible thing if they see Jews davening a little later than the minyan. It should be somewhat apparent: “All who see them will recognize them, for they are offspring whom Hashem has blessed.” A Tomim is something different. That is one aspect, but it does not end there. It goes in many directions. We should really arrange good Chassidus classes for those outside, in the literal sense, as well as for the “outside” within ourselves. See to it that another Jew learns a chapter of Tehillim, and another Jew learns a chapter of Tehillim. That’s it. Bring the revelation of G-dliness into the whole world—that is the work of the soldiers of the House of David. And may we merit that the Rebbe will proclaim us [unclear].

00:00 Speaker 1 The organizing committee has prepared a few minutes of farbrengens with Reb Shlomo Chaim and Reb Mendel for us to watch now. Please, let’s see them right away.

00:52 Speaker 2 Nu, this is our life. After all, our life is our life. This is life—our life, I’m telling you. This is the generation. He simply stole a moment. Yes, [unclear][?], can you hear me? Ah, wonderful! It’s that expression, that expression. But surely it was a little different. Ah, you could say that. He’s a serious person. So how does it work? What’s with his face? What does it matter to you? Thank you. His face, in my experience, [unclear]. I don’t have the strength for that. But it’s that same Scheinfeld, or that same [unclear]. So someone there said, “There are some fellows—listen, we’ll take care of it then, too.” I don’t have the time. I want to know what I have. So you have a trip with [unclear] to Jerusalem. I thought that perhaps you knew my soul better than I did. But—well, you certainly know better than I do. But that didn’t show me [unclear]. So she showed me, all right. So yes, that settled it. That describes the connection between this version [unclear]. What does it matter to you? [unclear], but it was different, too. What was published? And how did he [unclear]? Where’s the event? Where’s the event? They said it was an event. There were 200 people there. That was the event. That’s the story, Chaim, Chaim. Among us, Zalman was there too—[unclear] Zalman. That was [unclear]. But, oh, that’s a little [unclear]. I’ll tell you the truth: I was [unclear]. You wrote it that way; [unclear]. He never let go. All those years he [unclear]. [unclear] didn’t let him connect with him. He lived it; it came from life. It gave us life, Chaim.

00:02 Speaker 1 When I came to the yeshiva, even before I arrived, Reb Zusha Wilimovsky came to our house and told us there was a yeshiva here, in a five-star hotel. In fact, it wasn’t five stars—it had more than five. It had thousands of stars, because the roof wasn’t quite what it should have been. At night we could see the stars in the sky. Still, this institution went through growing pains, very difficult growing pains. Today, when I see the place, it looks like a first-class resort to me. The main entrance was about here. I can see that there were classrooms here; at one point they also served as bedrooms downstairs, as well as classrooms. But they’ve changed things and added on here. Look, I still remember the windows, that arch. The zal was up here, where those windows are.

01:25 Speaker 2 Here we were—we used to sit in the second orchard and farbreng there with [unclear] and all the madmen.

01:33 Speaker 1 With all the alcoholics.

01:34 Speaker 2 Yes. Once I came here early in the morning, before dawn—hey! I came here before dawn, and Rabbi Grozman was sitting with Dovid Morozov, a”h, learning Siddur. I asked them, “So, what happened here?” They said Reb Shlomo Chaim had told them that on Thursday morning, the innermost of the innermost is revealed. We had run out of vodka there in the orchard, so we would come here to get some, and Shlomo Chaim would come out and… You had the privilege of getting a few little cups of tea from Reb Shlomo Chaim.

02:13 Speaker 1 Upstairs was the zal, and along the sides of the hall were bedrooms. On this side there were three or four bedrooms. On the other side there was just one bedroom, and there was a courtyard you could go out to from the zal. Beyond that courtyard was another wing of the building with more bedrooms. It was quite a substantial building. The last room was Reb Shlomo Chaim’s room when he came to us.

02:42 Speaker 3 Oh, woe to him. Oh, woe to him. Dובי is pushing everything.

02:54 Speaker 2 We were [unclear] who studied here. I used to bathe in the pool.

03:02 Speaker 1 Well, they would fill the pool for—why? They would fill it with water from the orchard.

03:06 Speaker 2 From the orchard. But we were Jewish children.

03:08 Speaker 1 We needed to cool off a little.

03:11 Speaker 2 Looking a little.

03:12 Speaker 1 He would sweat—he would study and sweat a lot—so he would jump into the pool.

03:16 Speaker 2 You were the guard here.

03:18 Speaker 1 Yes.

03:18 Speaker 2 So if you don’t remember, we used to drink a little vodka together.

03:22 Speaker 1 Could be. Could be. It was a large hall.

03:26 Speaker 2 This was almost their kitchen, the teachers’ kitchen. They would make the…

03:29 Speaker 1 It was a bedroom. Yes, right. Now, this is it—here’s how it was. It was a large hall. This is part of the hall. The hall extended from this wall.

03:41 Speaker 2 From wall to wall.

03:41 Speaker 1 Farther, farther. More.

03:43 Speaker 2 It went from that wall to that wall, over there. There was a door here.

03:45 Speaker 1 A door, and there was another—

03:46 Speaker 2 Another room.

03:47 Speaker 1 Right. And here there were about three rooms.

03:49 Speaker 2 There.

03:50 Speaker 1 One, two, three bedrooms. And here there was only one room.

03:54 Speaker 2 This was the sitting room, as they say, the…

03:56 Speaker 1 And here was a courtyard, and there were toilets here, toilets, toilets. There were toilets too.

04:02 Speaker 2 There was a toilet and a shower here.

04:03 Speaker 1 Yes, a shower. That’s it. So I studied—there was a classroom down here.

04:07 Speaker 2 Right, there were two.

04:08 Speaker 1 Two. There was also a well.

04:09 Speaker 2 Wait, I’ll tell you. There were one, two, three, four classrooms.

04:12 Speaker 1 And there was a water well here. What I remember is that Yisroel Dubroskin, a”h—we were afraid to sleep downstairs. The bedrooms were downstairs for us, while the older boys were upstairs, and we were frightened. So Rabbi [unclear]—

04:29 Speaker 2 Can you see it?

04:30 Speaker 1 Encouraged us. But while he was encouraging us, he himself was trembling. Rabbi [unclear].

04:36 Speaker 4 [unclear]

04:54 Speaker 1 As usual, yes. That was the teacher, Rabbi Shloime Halperin.

04:57 Speaker 2 Right.

04:58 Speaker 1 And at the time, I taught in that classroom.

05:01 Speaker 2 Right, here.

05:02 Speaker 1 In 5726, I was there for half a year, in 1966. That’s it.

05:12 Speaker 2 Here, do you see?

05:16 Speaker 1 Now, take note: there was a classroom here, another classroom here, and another one here. Later they also served as bedrooms; things changed, and we went upstairs to sleep. There were changes all the time. Ah. That’s right. And it was good. The workers would stand by the window.

05:44 Speaker 2 Yes.

05:44 Speaker 1 Those who davened at length would stand by the window, look out, say, “How manifold are Your works, Hashem,” and daven.

05:51 Speaker 2 That’s what I remember.

05:52 Speaker 1 What do you say about this donkey? Tell me.

05:54 Speaker 2 Me? Oh, I’m among the donkeys. A good donkey.

06:00 Speaker 1 You see the stone building? That’s the building where the bedrooms were, and the last room was the room of the mashpia, Rabbi Shlomo Chaim Kesselman. That’s where he received us for yechidus. I was eleven when I arrived here. When I was about to turn thirteen, I had to prepare a maamar two months beforehand. So I said that since it was before my bar mitzvah, I would go home. Reb Shlomo Chaim told me, “Listen, you haven’t learned it yet.” But then he said, “You know what? Don’t go. I’ll teach you the maamar, and I’ll test you when the time comes.” He called me in; I hadn’t asked him. He had heard that I was thinking of leaving so I could learn the maamar at home. It wasn’t like today, when you have to memorize [unclear]. He received me and taught me the maamar. Basi Legani—I didn’t do Basi Legani; I did several maamarim in Yiddish, [unclear]. He taught me and worked hard until I knew how to express myself in Yiddish, because I still didn’t know Yiddish well—

07:07 Speaker 5 Didn’t know Yiddish well.

07:08 Speaker 1 And all credit to Reb Shlomo Chaim; he was devoted to me. [unclear] That’s it. Wonderful. All credit to him.

07:22 Speaker 5 Yes, what can you do?

07:23 Speaker 1 Beautiful.

07:24 Speaker 5 [unclear]

07:27 Speaker 1 Look, there’s the photograph—there’s a photograph of everyone against that wall. In the picture it gives the impression that the place was big. When the older boys came from the yeshiva in Tel Aviv and moved here, there was Levi Raskin, Gershon Mendel Gerlik, Nachman Sudak, and Tzvi Lerman, if you remember. Lions had arrived. We were children, and I remember that when they came, the yeshiva really became a yeshiva gedolah, an advanced yeshiva. And then, as he tells it, they would drink mashke, usually on Thursday night. Gershon Mendel and Levi Raskin, after they had finished learning on Thursday night, would sit under a tree, bring over a table, and sit farbrenging all night. That was—

08:26 Speaker 5 Vodka.

08:27 Speaker 1 And there were various roshei yeshiva; many roshei yeshiva passed through here. The first, as I recall, was a Belzer chossid—I no longer remember his name. After that there was Boruch Shimon Schneersohn—

08:41 Speaker 5 Sorry, I’m interrupting you.

08:42 Speaker 1 After that there was—

08:43 Speaker 5 Boruch Shimon Schneersohn—

08:44 Speaker 1 Yitzchok, [unclear].

08:45 Speaker 5 [unclear] Greenbaum arrived from Ponevezh.

08:48 Speaker 1 He was a director here.

08:49 Speaker 5 So Schneersohn—Boruch Schneersohn—says to him…

08:53 Speaker 1 Boruch Shimon Schneersohn.

08:53 Speaker 5 He told me to come over and learn the sugya with him, the one [unclear] in the Ibn Ezra. That was Schneersohn, the rosh yeshiva.

09:02 Speaker 1 I remember [unclear]—I’m sorry, I told you how he used to behave. He would go into the kitchen to eat, but he wouldn’t take a portion. Instead, he would slip in quietly so the cook wouldn’t see him, because she would always prepare something for him. He would take what the children had left on their plates and eat that. [unclear]

09:30 Speaker 6 Pour some, pour some for the rabbi.

09:31 Speaker 1 May you have long life and many years, and in another sixty years may they hold another gathering of eulogies—of—

09:37 Speaker 5 But you should know, the vodka Simcha gave you and that cup of tea won’t go to waste.

09:44 Speaker 1 L’chaim, l’chaim.

09:44 Speaker 5 If it hasn’t helped by sixty—how old is the rabbi, seventy? May you live to 120. Otherwise I’ll start calling you [unclear]. Rabbi Dubroskin—

09:55 Speaker 1 Or…

09:55 Speaker 5 Would travel from here every afternoon to teach Chassidus at the state school in Kfar Chabad. And what happened there happened.

10:08 Speaker 1 In short, he mentioned it—

10:10 Speaker 5 He would sing the niggunim: “[unclear].” He was fanatical.

10:24 Speaker 1 You forgot the beginning. This is how he would sing the beginning.

10:28 Speaker 5 Yes?

10:28 Speaker 1 [unclear]

10:46 Speaker 5 And he would also sing on the bus.

10:49 Speaker 1 What I once saw—yes, yes, this isn’t [unclear], gentlemen. All right, thank you. We’re here, sitting in the zal, where they studied back then, with the teachers and so on. This was where they sat. I remember Rabbi Avrom Eisen, [unclear] Zarevitz; he was one of the roshei yeshiva at the time. Rabbi Boruch Shimon would come once a week and be here. They would arrange tables here, rows of tables seating two students each. This is where they would sit, learn, and review.

11:31 Speaker 5 Here.

11:33 Speaker 1 The segment, no. … All right.

12:07 Speaker 5 The ambience.

12:23 Speaker 7 …

12:23 Speaker 5 …

12:23 Speaker 7 …

12:25 Speaker 5 …

12:26 Speaker 7 All right.

12:26 Speaker 5 Ah, this building brings back memories from long ago, fifty years ago. We were here, we studied here, we held farbrengens here. It was interesting here. Shlomo Chaim used to lead farbrengens with us. We were here in a secluded corner, far from the city, far from the whole outside world. This entire building was surrounded by orange groves. If I could, I would come back here, reopen the yeshiva with all the fellows together, and return to the life we had then. That’s it.

13:09 Speaker 7 …