20 Mar-Cheshvan 5770 Conference

00:00 Speaker 1 And those who continued his path, through to His Holiness the Rebbe, the leader of our generation. With the strength of all these blessings, and with the strength of the priestly blessing, I am honored to welcome you all with a heartfelt chassidic greeting. Welcome to the fiftieth national gathering of Anash, Chabad chassidim in Israel. And let us open with a special blessing of shalom aleichem to our dear guests, who have returned from their journey to celebrate the seventh month within the Rebbe’s four cubits. My teachers and friends, distinguished and holy gathering: the inspiration and strength we receive from this auspicious day—the birthday of the Rebbe Rashab, as we said—are all the more pronounced this year. That is both because this year is, as we know, a year of “Ufaratzta,” and because 20 Cheshvan falls this year on Shabbos. Each of these gives us further direction and strength for the work of Ufaratzta: spreading Torah, spreading Judaism, and spreading the wellsprings of Chassidus outward in a manner of “Ufaratzta.” Our Sages have already spoken of the special connection between Ufaratzta and Shabbos, the day we have just come from: “Whoever delights in Shabbos is given a boundless inheritance,” as it says, “Then you shall delight in Hashem,” “and call Shabbos a delight,” and “I will feed you with the inheritance of Yaakov your father.” That is a boundless inheritance, as the Midrash says of Yaakov, about whom it is written, “You shall spread westward and eastward, northward and southward.” This is the special connection between the year of Ufaratzta and our central farbrengen here on Motzaei Shabbos, following 20 Cheshvan, the birthday of the Rebbe Rashab. It also fits the weekly parsha, Parshas Vayeira: “Hashem appeared to him.” As the translation renders “appeared”—“revealed Himself.” May it be Hashem’s will that through this farbrengen, a gathering of brothers sitting together in unity, we all merit the experience and revelation of “Hashem appeared to him.” As the Rebbe points out, the verse says “appeared to him,” unlike the verse in the previous parsha, “Hashem appeared to Avraham.” Here, in our parsha, we say, “Hashem appeared to him”—to indicate that every

04:01 Speaker 1 single person is worthy of, and can merit, a revelation of the Divine Presence. And who knows this better than we do, having studied the Rebbe’s sichos? There was hardly a sicha on 20 Cheshvan in which the Rebbe did not return specifically to one story from the life of the Rebbe Rashab. We have learned of many revelations in the Rebbe Rashab’s life, stories without end, but the story the Rebbe repeated at almost every farbrengen is the well-known one: when he was a boy of four or five, his mother took him to his grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, and asked for his blessing. When he entered the Tzemach Tzedek’s room on the eve of Shabbos Parshas Vayeira, he burst into tears. The Tzemach Tzedek asked his grandson, “Why are you crying?” He replied, “I’m crying because Hakadosh Boruch Hu reveals Himself to Avraham but doesn’t reveal Himself to me. Why doesn’t He reveal Himself to me?” The Tzemach Tzedek answered, “When a Jew of ninety-nine—or a righteous Jew of ninety-nine—sees fit to circumcise himself, he deserves to have Hakadosh Boruch Hu reveal Himself to him.” The sichos are lengthy, and in each one the Rebbe focuses on another detail of the story. But the common thread running through them all, the lesson and conclusion, is what the Rebbe says: this story teaches us that however young a Jew may be, whether in years or in understanding, he can reach the highest level of revelation of the Divine Presence. For that, he must prepare the vessel; the vessel is bris milah, removing the foreskin, removing the obstacles and hindrances. The day of 20 Cheshvan, Shabbos—a boundless inheritance. The year of Ufaratzta—a year beyond all limits. May we all merit, now, that our eyes behold the King in His beauty. The Rebbe is leading us all to the complete and true Geulah very soon indeed, amen and amen. And we open with a word from the Rebbe. The Rebbe’s letter to the gathering, with the addition of one important sentence.

07:06 Speaker 1 How dear this national farbrengen, this gathering of Chabad Anash in the Holy Land, was to the Rebbe! The Rebbe devoted several Shabbos farbrengen sichos to it, and sent mashke. Once, when for some reason they forgot to set out a bottle of mashke on the Shabbos before the gathering, the Rebbe raised the fact that they had forgotten to prepare it and gently rebuked those responsible. The Rebbe then gave some of his own mashke to bring to the farbrengen at the national gathering on 20 Cheshvan. And besides all that, there was the special letter, the holy letter of blessing, that the Rebbe would send to this farbrengen each year. I am honored to invite Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak HaKohen Aharonov, chairman of Tzeirei Agudas Chabad and chairman of Agudas Chassidei Chabad in the Holy Land, to read the Rebbe’s letter to the national gathering, the national farbrengen. Rabbi Aharonov. Boruch Hashem. Sunday of the week of “And Avraham was old, advanced in years,” following Shabbos, 28 Cheshvan 5747, Brooklyn, New York. To all the participants in the annual gathering of Chabad chassidim in our Holy Land, shlita: Greetings and abundant blessings. May it be Hashem’s will that the gathering be a true gathering, bringing true unity among all its participants, and through them unity among all those they influence, extending to the unity of all Israel. For this is a great principle of the Torah, from which the entire Torah follows; as for the rest, go and study it. This applies both to them and to the world, which was created for Israel, “one nation on earth,” who received one Torah and study it and observe its mitzvos as one person with one heart. May they make good resolutions, firmly, in a way that leads to action in practice—which is the main thing. Resolutions directed toward the goal just stated: true Jewish unity through an increase in the threefold love; in matters of Torah—the one Torah, both its revealed and hidden dimensions, and its mitzvos—the unity and wholeness of the Torah; bringing chassidic life and light into the everyday lives of all

10:48 Speaker 1 the people, into their lives and their observance of mitzvos—the unity and wholeness of the people; and especially throughout the Land, that unique Land of which it is said, “The eyes of Hashem your G-d are always upon it.” He gave it as an eternal inheritance to an eternal people, in its entirety and within all its borders—the unity and wholeness of the Land—until “Hashem will expand your border.” Great is the power and merit of the many and of the community, especially when they assemble and become one great congregation, expressed in the singular. This is explained at length by the one whose birthday falls on this Shabbos, in his well-known discourse “Heichaltzu Me’itchem Anashim,” which is relevant to the days of the gathering and to the gathering itself. May it be Hashem’s will that each of the participants, shlita, be a living example, in practice, of “Heichaltzu Me’itchem Anashim.” And may the promise soon be fulfilled, in our very days: “You have favored Your land, Hashem; You have brought back the captives of Yaakov,” and “that glory may dwell in our land”—with the true and complete Geulah through Moshiach Tzidkeinu, speedily, in our very days. With respect and blessings for success and good tidings, [unclear]. Thank you very much; yasher koach to Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak HaKohen Aharonov, chairman of Tzeirei Agudas Chabad and Agudas Chassidei Chabad in the Holy Land. And we pray for what the Rebbe writes at the close of the letter: the true and complete Geulah. Since this is our fiftieth gathering, and “fifty” has the same numerical value as “the Geulah,” may Hakadosh Boruch Hu grant that this gathering already be the gathering of the true and complete Geulah, very soon indeed. My teachers and friends, our central theme this evening is “Ufaratzta in shlichus.” To introduce the theme, say l’chaim together, and strengthen ourselves in shlichus and in “Ufaratzta” in shlichus, we will now listen to and watch a sicha of the Rebbe on the subject of shlichus. Please—shlichus. It’s one of the things that makes Chabad Lubavitch so special. There are many thousands of shluchim in nearly every country in the world spreading Yiddishkeit, with their great Ahavas Yisroel, always ready to do a favor for a Jew. But what is a shliach? Will the street make you a shliach? The very being of the shliach—where and [unclear] his being.

14:42 Speaker 1 The one who sends him. [unclear] I went to the gathering of the shluchim in the Holy Land, and at the same time [unclear]. We can look at this from three perspectives. As I mentioned earlier, shlichus means more than the power the shliach is given; it involves the power of the one who sends him and the shliach as a whole. He becomes the one sent. And then there is the further point, as explained in Chassidus in a number of places: the shliach’s own existence is not a contradiction to the existence of the one who sends him. [unclear] In the words of the Maggid: “Two halves of a form.” The two halves join together and become one. And this concerns every shliach. He may think about how completely he is connected to the one who sent him, to the leader of our generation, to the Frierdiker Rebbe. [unclear] He will go and do what he can, as he knows he has been instructed. [unclear] That is the very existence of a shliach. [unclear]

17:24 Speaker 1 The meaning of shlichus, and particularly of a shliach’s fulfilling his mission, is that the shliach’s entire existence is bound up with the one who sent him. That is the idea of the “two halves of a form.” At the same time, he must bring blessing to the whole world. [unclear] He has a physical body, with physical sinews, in this lowest world, and there is both the physical and the spiritual. Yet he is entirely bound up with the one who sent him. On the contrary, this is what the one who sent him wants. [unclear] Even in the simplest circumstances, the shliach must not lose his own existence. [unclear] He remains devoted to the one who sent him. [unclear] Then he feels that he has been given a mitzvah, a great mitzvah. [unclear] What is this connected with? With bringing Moshiach. [unclear]

19:52 Speaker 1 That does not mean it comes on its own; it runs through all three. It is a concern that each of us must carry. [unclear] A shliach and the one who sent him, together with all the shluchim, [unclear] every one of us must know [unclear]. We are shluchim of the leader of our generation, the Frierdiker Rebbe. [unclear]

22:23 Speaker 12 Mr. Harold of Chicago. There with Goldfarb.

22:29 Speaker 23 A good beginning. As a teacher, you do twice as much.

22:34 Speaker 12 I appreciate it.

22:35 Speaker 23 G-d will bless you.

22:37 Speaker 12 For health and happiness and wealth for my family and friends. And I’m putting on tefillin now. Thank you very much.

22:42 Speaker 23 That you’ll give for all your family and for your friend.

22:46 Speaker 12 Thank you so much.

22:47 Speaker 23 And that you put for me. I also need a bracha from the Rebbe.

22:51 Speaker 12 Thank you so much.

22:52 Speaker 23 Thank you very much. Sincerely. When you have good news, don’t forget my address.

22:59 Speaker 12 Never.

23:20 Speaker 23 This is Mr. Irwin Miller, the president of Tishman, and he’s helping us with Beis Tefillah. May G-d Almighty bless you. If you make an additional effort, G-d Almighty will give you additional blessings.

23:36 Speaker 12 Great. Thank you.

23:36 Speaker 23 May you have good news and go from strength to strength in all good matters, including your personal livelihood. Bracha, bracha, bracha. All these people are helping you.

23:52 Speaker 12 The Rebbe is asking me a question.

23:53 Speaker 25 Yes.

23:54 Speaker 12 The Rebbe is asking if these people are helping you.

23:55 Speaker 25 Oh, yes. The answer is yes.

23:58 Speaker 23 That I will help the charity to do even more charity, to help through charity.

24:05 Speaker 25 Yeah. If I help you. Oh. Oh. Radvoner[?], you know the guy, there’s nothing in the charity to [unclear] Radvoner[?].

24:14 Speaker 23 The

30:10 Speaker 26 Many thanks to the choir of Anash, Chabad chassidim, with Reb Shmuel Harush and accompanist Reb Elo Volner[?]. We’ll hear them again later. Thank you, and yasher koach. We ask and invite everyone to move forward. There are still plenty of places here in front of the stage. Please come forward, come inside, and find a place here at the front to join the farbrengen. Thank you. My teachers and friends, my brothers and companions: As we do every year, in this fiftieth year we gather together. One of the central parts of the gathering is reliving the special moments of spiritual uplift and inspiration that we were privileged to experience in the seventh month. And while our shared longing—our desire to see our King—fills us, fills our entire being, we also sense and feel, day by day and hour by hour, the strength that the Rebbe continues to give us at all times. He bestows on each of us and on the community as a whole an abundance of blessings from his full, open, holy, overflowing and generous hand. And as for bringing greetings from the Rebbe, for living with the Rebbe, something happened to me personally: Exactly fifty years ago, when I returned from the month of the festivals to the Holy Land via London, I understood that when I arrived I would need to hold a farbrengen and bring greetings from the Rebbe and from Beis Chayeinu. But as soon as I got off the ship in London, the shliach Rabbi Sudak was waiting for me with a letter from the Rebbe. In it, the Rebbe wrote to me—ah, about how I surely made use of the time on the ship we traveled on then. But most importantly, the Rebbe wrote: “He will surely visit the yeshiva in Manchester and convey greetings from the farbrengens you attended here.” And bringing greetings means repeating the things we heard from the Rebbe. I have the honor of inviting a representative of the guests who have returned from Beis Rabbeinu, from the Rebbe’s presence: the mashpia of the Chabad community in Lod, Rabbi Nachum Kaplan. Please. L’chaim, l’chaim. With the permission of all those seated here at the front and of the entire holy gathering, I wanted to offer a brief introduction from something...

33:56 Speaker 26 A story. There was a Jew who lived here in Kfar Chabad. Who didn’t know Reb Boruch Chen? I think everyone did. It’s a small story, because the Rebbe spoke at every opportunity about putting Ahavas Yisroel into practice. This is what happened: It was in 5713 or 5714—I heard the story from my father, whose yahrzeit is this week, on the fourth of the month. My father told me about the war years, the Second World War. Things were hard: hunger, no bread, nothing to eat. It was truly terrible. There were two children in our home, and no food. My father went out into the street and met his friend Boruch Chen, who had been in the same class as him. “Sholom aleichem.” “Aleichem sholom.” Boruch Chen turned to my father and said, “Melech, I want to lend you two hundred rubles.” My father said, “I don’t need it.” “All right,” he said, “what do you care? I’ll lend it to you.” They went back and forth like that, but my father wouldn’t agree under any circumstances. When Boruch Chen saw that my father wouldn’t accept it, he suddenly burst into tears and said, “Melech, you have to take it! If you don’t take it, I won’t be able to bear it. Save me, help me—take it!” Gentlemen, that’s the story. That was, of course, Boruch Chen from Kfar Chabad. I wanted to share another story with you, also connected with the Rebbe. I think I’m allowed to tell one that isn’t just from this year. In 5762 there was a wedding in the United States. The grandson, Yechiel, son of Yechiel—his father, a”h, was killed in a car accident. Now, that summer I had terrible pain in my right leg. I couldn’t walk. I needed to see Professor Alperin, and when I approached Shlomo Maidanchik, he said he could arrange it within two or three days, at five in the morning. Shleimke told me, “You’re coming to pick me up at five in the morning. You’re taking me too.” Why did I need to take him? “You’re taking me.” In short, I don’t want to go on at length.

36:50 Speaker 26 I came to Professor Alperin, and he said, “How are you walking? You need crutches. What’s this?” Crutches it was; there was nothing to be done. I traveled with the crutches to the Rebbe. What I want to tell you is that there’s the question of the eruv. I was in Canada, and I went over to Rabbi Hendel and asked him what I should do. If I couldn’t walk, I’d have to stay home. Rabbi Hendel said to me, “Tell me, can you walk without the crutches or not?” I told him no. “No? Then walk.” That was it. He ruled for me. What I want to share with you is this: After the holidays, I was walking in Crown Heights, between President and Union. As I was walking along, a Jew suddenly came up to me. I don’t know where he was from, whether he lived there or was from Russia—I don’t know. “Sholom aleichem.” “Aleichem sholom.” “Tell me, are you from Eretz Yisroel?” “From Eretz Yisroel.” He saw me on crutches, threw himself at me, hugged me and kissed me. I didn’t know what was happening. What was this? He said, “Listen, if you managed to come to the Rebbe on crutches, I have to give you something.” For a moment I wondered what he could possibly give me. He took out a dollar from 5752. “This is a gift for you, for coming to the Rebbe on crutches.” Well, I was truly amazed. Who merits things like that? But that’s how it was. I want to tell you a little, as much as I can, about this year. The truth is, everyone knows that on 15 Tishrei it isn’t easy to find a place to stay. It really isn’t. Hakadosh Boruch Hu helped. Seventeen years ago in Lod, there were boys who used to spend Shabbos with us. Three months ago they visited me at home, and I asked one of them where I could stay. “What do you mean? I have a new house, I have a room—no problem. You can stay with me, on Lefferts Street.”

39:13 Speaker 26 At first, I hadn’t reckoned on walking there. Of course, I had somewhere to stay. I have to say, when I started walking from Lefferts to Eastern Parkway, I felt this wasn’t for me. It wasn’t for me; it was for healthy people. Some people were staying even farther down. But when you’re in pain and it’s hard to walk that far, I said to myself, I’ll find a shul and stay here. The area is practically full of shuls, and, boruch Hashem, they’re all our people. That was my first thought. Then came a second thought. I said, wait—what did you come here for? Did you come here to daven in some shul? You could have stayed in Eretz Yisroel for that. Why did you come? You came to be in the house of our Rebbe in Babylonia. So what is all this nonsense? I said, I have to push myself, even though it’s hard. I even tried to get rides, but unfortunately there weren’t any. So I kept walking, and boruch Hashem, after two weeks the pain subsided, and I felt much, much better. There’s something else I wanted to tell you. On Sukkos, you go around the bimah with the four species. Usually, when a person feels well, what’s the problem? He takes the four species and makes one circuit. Even seven on Hoshana Rabbah—no problem. But when you’re not so steady on your feet, it’s a little difficult. I looked for an opportunity and said, oh, now I can join in with the four species. I went in, but I couldn’t manage. In short, I was simply carried along with the circuit because I didn’t have the— But I said, it’s all worthwhile. That was on Sukkos. Another thing I want to tell you: The Gemara says that when you’re a guest, you don’t tell people where you’re staying. You don’t say anything about it. I was there—this

41:33 Speaker 26 was on Hoshana Rabbah—I was on Montgomery, and a young married man stopped me and said, “Do you remember that I studied with you forty years ago?” “All right,” I said. “Where will you be? On Hoshana Rabbah you have to eat a festive meal. Where will you eat?” He said, “Wait, where do you need to go now?” He took me to Lefferts and said, “Listen, it’s Hoshana Rabbah today. You’re coming to me.” “All right, and what about Simchas Torah?” “Fine, Simchas Torah too.” What I’m saying is, when I came to the sukkah—you know, there they eat in the sukkah on Simchas Torah—I saw twenty plates on the table. I thought that would be it. But the first group finished, and then came a second group. Boruch Hashem, there was plenty. People came, guests, no problem at all. That’s what happened there on Simchas Torah. I wanted to tell you something else. On Simchas Torah, as we usually do, we say “Atah Hareisa” three times, and then the moment of hakafos arrives. I don’t know who started it. I don’t know how it happened, but the whole crowd was together, all kinds of people. There was complete unity there; everyone was together. There must have been five thousand people, maybe more. Suddenly there was a moment. After all, what are we waiting for? We had just heard it too: we want to see the Rebbe. What do we want every second? Someone began calling out, “Rebbe, reveal yourself!” and the whole crowd began to sing, “Rebbe, reveal yourself!” Some people cried, some— It was simply a very moving moment. That’s what I remember from Simchas Torah. And I wanted to finish with one more thing. There was once a story about, ah, Michael Teitelbaum. This is what happened. Michael Teitelbaum used to hold a dinner every year, and he would go to the Rebbe to ask for a bracha for the dinner’s success. After Gimmel Tammuz, he came to the Ohel, and when he

43:59 Speaker 26 came to the Ohel, he asked and asked. Afterward, someone said to him, “Listen, there’s a video here where you can see all kinds of things. Go over to the video for a moment, Reb Michael.” “What for? Leave me alone. I’ve already been to the Ohel and received a bracha. What am I going to see on the video?” But after they spoke to him several times, Michael Teitelbaum was persuaded. When he went in to watch the video, what did he see? He saw the Rebbe giving Michael Teitelbaum a dollar for the success of the dinner. He could hardly believe it. What I want to tell you is that I was privileged to be at the Ohel three times. The first time was as soon as we arrived. People had given me pidyonos: one wanted me to place his pidyon this way, another wanted me to read as much as I could. Then we went a second time, and a third time, before we left, we went into the Ohel again to ask. We were there for about fifteen or twenty minutes, and afterward we also went in to watch the video. When we went in, what did we see? We saw and heard them singing, “Dear brothers, dear brothers, we will see each other again.” That was the song. Suddenly a plane appeared, and the Rebbe came out and wished everyone well, blessing them that everything should be a great success. That, as they say, is what we saw. May Hakadosh Boruch Hu only help. I can say that throughout this time I truly felt something altogether different. May Hashem grant that very soon we merit to see the Rebbe, with our own eyes, in the Geulah. All the best.

46:05 Speaker 27 Thank you very much. Yasher koach to the mashpia of the Chabad community in Lod for that small taste of living with the seventh month, with an added thirst: “We want to see our King.” In this morning’s weekly parsha, in the Chumash we studied this week, Avraham Avinu says to his guests, “Please let a little water be brought; refresh yourselves and wash your feet, for this is why you have passed by your servant.” Avraham Avinu, the great host, tells his guests: Come eat and drink, because that’s why you came. It feels a little awkward to tell guests, “Come eat and drink, because that’s why you came—you came to eat and drink.” But without the Chassidic explanation, we really can’t understand it. “Please let a little water be brought”: You came to a farbrengen at my house, Avraham Avinu says. Have a little water, a little l’chaim; “refresh yourselves”—listen to a sicha of the Rebbe and draw strength; “wash your feet”—wash away your habits, the routines that have you fixed at one time or another. “For this is why you have passed by your servant”—that’s why you came to the farbrengen. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the year of ufaratzta, and as the Rebbe says, ufaratzta within ufaratzta. The ufaratzta outward, boruch Hashem, is growing stronger. We also need ufaratzta inward—the shlichus of ufaratzta within ourselves. I am honored to invite the mara d’asra, the host of the nationwide farbrengen, the distinguished chossid and scholar Rabbi Mordechai Ashkenazi shlita, to speak about shlichus inward. Please.

48:08 Speaker 28 Sorry I took your place.

48:11 Speaker 29 It’s a privilege. I’ll sit down afterward.

48:13 Speaker 28 L’chaim, l’chaim, l’chaim, l’chaim. May this be an active farbrengen, as the Rebbe put it, with good resolutions that continue throughout the year. L’chaim, l’chaim. We have gathered here, as we do every year, for a farbrengen on 20 Cheshvan, the birthday of the Rebbe Rashab, who was born on 20 Marcheshvan 5621. One of the things about the Rebbe Rashab in his time, as I heard from the elder chassidim of the previous generation, is that besides his greatness in Torah and Chassidus—who am I to assess that?—he was also a revolutionary. When he founded the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva, it caused a great stir among the chassidim, especially the elder chassidim. Someone asked me today at the farbrengen why the Rebbe Rashab had to struggle for ten years to establish Tomchei Temimim. What do we know? What do we understand? But one of the things we can see is that it was a revolution in the Chassidic approach. There were prominent chassidim, chassidim of the Tzemach Tzedek and the Rebbe Maharash, who objected to young men studying Chassidus; that had not been customary until then. They saw it as a step backward. But the Rebbe Rashab was not deterred. He took on this mission, established the yeshiva, and inscribed on its banner: “Whoever goes out to fight in the war of the House of David writes his wife a bill of divorce.” That is how he educated the Temimim. From the founding of Tomchei Temimim until today, its education has been shaped by “Whoever goes out to fight in the war of the House of David writes his wife a bill of divorce.” Studying at Tomchei Temimim is not only about studying the revealed Torah and Chassidus; it also gives a person direction in life. The years a person studies at Tomchei Temimim give him guidance and direction for the rest of his life, for a hundred and twenty years. As is well known, [unclear]: if a person was fortunate enough to eat the porridge at Tomchei Temimim, it will help him throughout the years. And if that is true of the porridge, how much more so of

52:12 Speaker 28 spiritual matters, a Chassidic education, and an outlook on life. Those years a person was fortunate enough to study at Tomchei Temimim become the foundation of his life for all the years that follow. So when we say, “Whoever goes out to fight in the war of the House of David writes his wife a bill of divorce,” it applies not only during those years of study at Tomchei Temimim, but afterward as well, throughout one’s life, passing it on to the generations to come. Boruch Hashem, those of us who had the privilege of studying at Tomchei Temimim were fortunate. One of the things incumbent on them—on us—is to carry it forward: to educate, and to tell our families about Lubavitch. What is Tomchei Temimim? What does Tomchei Temimim ask of a young man? We must tell our children, educate them, guide them—pass on what we heard, what the mashpi’im told us, what was discussed at farbrengens. Today, this is one of the ways to stand firm amid the doubled and redoubled darkness. The Rebbe Rashab began this work, and the Rebbe carried it forward until the coming of Moshiach: the shlichus, the shlichus of the Temimim. I had the privilege, fifty years ago, of studying in Montreal for a year or two. There was a well-known mashpia there at the time named Reb Peretz Mochkin, a”h. He would farbreng with us every Shabbos. I was especially fortunate to have a very close and warm relationship with him. There was something that happened to me. I arrived in New York, to the Rebbe, in 5728, at the beginning of the summer. At the end of the summer I moved to 770 to study. I was a young boy of fifteen and a half, and there were older, tall American students there. My grandfather, Rabbi Krasik, came from Eretz Yisroel for Tishrei. He went in to see the Rebbe—he arrived during Selichos—and he went in several times. The Rebbe asked him, “How do you find your grandson here?” Well, in short, he didn’t answer. So the Rebbe said something to him about me. Then he said to the Rebbe... In fact, after Tishrei I went away, and when I later wanted to come back and move

55:59 Speaker 28 to New York, it took time before the Rebbe approved it. In any event, one of the things Reb Peretz would say when he farbrenged every Shabbos and on special occasions was that the Temimim at Tomchei Temimim in Lubavitch had a distinct character and a high spiritual standing. About one of them, they would say [unclear], and all kinds of things like that. They truly served Hashem. But as for being soldiers, with [unclear]—that belongs to the Rebbe’s Temimim. He would always tell us: Just as the Temimim of today do not reach the level of the Temimim of those days, so the Temimim of those days did not reach the level—I don’t want to say the ankles, as he put it—of the activity, the alacrity, and the bittul of today’s Temimim. And boruch Hashem, that is our lot. Today we see outreach and shlichus spreading throughout the whole world. But even those who have not had the privilege of going on shlichus in the literal sense have the shlichus of Tomchei Temimim: to carry it forward and educate, to educate themselves or be educated in the spirit of Tomchei Temimim, and to bring that spirit home, so that the home becomes part of Tomchei Temimim. Children need to see their father participating in farbrengens, studying the revealed Torah and Chassidus, taking an interest in the Chassidic way of life. That is what matters to him; that is what he strives for and wants, as though he were still living in the yeshiva. When a person merits to bring that spirit home, the spirit of Tomchei Temimim, it is a remedy for all kinds of troubles and for the doubled and redoubled darkness in which we find ourselves today. We read Parshas Vayeira in the Torah. At the end of the parsha, it tells of the Akeidah, when Avraham Avinu bound his son Yitzchok and placed him on the altar. There is a teaching the Rebbe quotes in the name of the Alter Rebbe. He asked a question: Every morning we recite the passage of the Akeidah, the test of Avraham Avinu. It was his final test, the tenth test. His son

58:58 Speaker 28 How old was Avraham Avinu? A hundred and thirty-seven? After 134 years according to one opinion, or 104 years according to another. We are speaking here after a hundred years of serving Hashem, spreading Judaism, and spreading awareness of Hashem throughout the world of his time. Avraham Avinu reached the point where he withstood the test of binding his only son on the altar. The Alter Rebbe asked: Seemingly, the test in Ur Kasdim was a greater, more difficult test. They took a three-year-old child, according to some opinions, and told him, “Stop following your path, or we will throw you into the fire and burn you.” And Avraham Avinu withstood the test. Which is the greater test: when a three-year-old child withstands a test, or when a Jew of 137 does? Seemingly, a three-year-old child has only just begun to recognize his Creator, and already he withstands a test of actual self-sacrifice. Surely that is the greater wonder. Why, then, do we specifically mention the test of the Akeidah and not the test in Ur Kasdim? The Alter Rebbe explains that the test in Ur Kasdim and the test of the Akeidah were two different tests. The test in Ur Kasdim was this: Avraham Avinu had begun with an approach—“Spread Judaism.” It was a mission, an ideal. He took it upon himself to spread the message that the world has a Creator and a Leader. For that ideal, he had prepared himself even to sanctify Hashem’s name. In other words, he gave his life for something, for an ideal. Even today we see—though there is no comparison whatsoever—that even non-Jews are prepared to die so that their ideals will be accepted. But the test of the Akeidah was a test without an ideal. Who gained anything from it? Who, who, who benefited from it? Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Avraham Avinu, “Take your only son, where no one will see

1:01:57 Speaker 28 and no one will know.” There were even two servants, and he told them, “Stay behind.” He went to Mount Moriah, took his son, bound him, and almost slaughtered him. Who benefited from that? Avraham Avinu, who would lose his son? Did Yitzchak Avinu benefit? Did the world gain anything? Nothing. There was no ideal here and no program—only that Hakadosh Boruch Hu had said so. This is the hardest test. When there is something to be gained, then it is not, so to speak, complete self-sacrifice. But self-sacrifice purely for the sake of self-sacrifice, for the sake of kabbolas ol—that is the hardest of all, the most difficult test. That is why we mention specifically the account of the Akeidah, and not the other tests, such as Ur Kasdim. My friends, we are living through a most difficult time. We are facing a test. There was the test of 19 Kislev, which was for the sake of spreading Chassidus, so that the teachings of the Alter Rebbe, the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov, would become known. And that is the way of Torah: “From the narrow straits I called to Hashem”—it is precisely through obstacles and hindrances that it brings about

1:03:29 Speaker 30 “The more they afflicted him, the more he multiplied and spread.”

1:03:32 Speaker 28 That is what we have seen throughout the generations of Jewish history. When a new approach began, it began amid obstacles and hindrances. The Samech-Mem makes things difficult and puts all sorts of obstacles in the way, but it is precisely from the narrow straits that one emerges into expansiveness. There was 12 Tammuz, a difficult test, but through that test they kept Chassidus alive in Russia, and it became an example for all the Jews there to see and follow. The test we face today, after Gimmel Tammuz, is that we ask ourselves: Who gains anything from this? Who benefits? What ideal is served by it? What is gained? The Rebbe? The Rebbe wants to be with us. The chassidim? The chassidim want to be with the Rebbe. The Jewish people as a whole—the Jewish people as a whole are in a situation where [unclear] a Rebbe. I cannot forget something that happened during the Second Lebanon War. Shells began falling—what were they called, Katyushas? What was it that fell on the Galilee? And there was a concern that, G-d forbid, it would not stop. Should people flee? Shouldn’t they? Leave the country? Yes or no? I cannot forget it. One day a phone call came here to Kfar Chabad from one of the leading figures in Gur. The war was, I think, in Tammuz or Menachem Av. He asked, almost in passing, whether there was room in Kfar Chabad for two or three thousand people. His Rebbe wanted to pray with his community on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. He asked whether there would be room in Kfar Chabad for Rosh Hashanah. This was two months before Rosh Hashanah—would there be room in Kfar Chabad for his community to come and pray here together with him? He asked me, and I told him, “Ask your Rebbe when the war will end. Instead of asking whether there will be room here in two months for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur prayers, ask your Rebbe when the war will end.” He answered me, “That is something you have to ask the Lubavitcher Rebbe.” In any event, the point is this doubled and redoubled darkness.

1:06:35 Speaker 28 When we take stock of ourselves, it is like the test of the Akeidah. But we have to know that it is only a test. Once we know it is only a test—“For Hashem your G-d is testing you”—it is easier to get through the obstacles and hindrances, all the difficulties and all the barriers along the way, whether at home or in education, in raising our children. For we have been promised, “For a brief moment I forsook you, but with great compassion I will gather you.” And so we are now at a farbrengen for 20 Cheshvan. Chassidim are together. That itself, the very fact of it, matters. One of the things that sustains us today is these special days, when we come together in large numbers, farbreng together, and recall things. One person remembers something he was privileged to see of the Rebbe. Another remembers a sicha of the Rebbe. Together, it is easier to get through this terrible exile and this doubled and redoubled darkness. It was like this in the time of the Beis Hamikdash: people would go up for the festivals three times a year. The Sefer Hachinuch asks: What was the purpose of going up three times a year? A Jew would come for Sukkos, and then for the next half-year, until Pesach, he would be occupied with working the land, sowing and farming. He was on his own. But the strength he had drawn from being at the Beis Hamikdash gave him the strength to live a spiritual life until Pesach. Then it carried him from Pesach to Shavuos, and from Shavuos to Sukkos, throughout the cycle of the year. When we have these special days—whether in Cheshvan, on 19 Kislev, or on 12 Tammuz—they are days of chassidim, days of Chassidus, days for resolutions in the ways of Chassidus. On these days we need to remember the Temimim, remember the life of the Temimim and what we were taught as Temimim, and carry it through the entire year. May it be Hashem’s will. We want to see our King; may we merit to see the Rebbe, the King in his beauty. May our eyes behold it very soon indeed.

1:09:33 Speaker 2 Thank you very much, and yasher koach to the local rav, the distinguished chossid Rabbi Mordechai Ashkenazi shlita. To make this a little more practical, we mentioned earlier that at a particular farbrengen the Rebbe asked why no one had requested mashke for that farbrengen. My friends, there are bottles of mashke on the table, and they are closed. That cannot be. Please open the bottles. Please bring a little water. The Rebbe sent his own personal mashke to that farbrengen, not mashke someone had put out. He asked that we say l’chaim at the farbrengen. Please bring a little water. We will say l’chaim and draw strength from what was said about the great mission. My friends, we all know Reb Shmuel Katan—or, more accurately, the great Reb Shmuel Katan. His strength is in music, in the art of the violin. On behalf of everyone here, I would like to invite Reb Shmuel to play a niggun with us—ah, to say l’chaim. Well, where is the mashke? We’re opening ours too.

1:10:48 Speaker 3 Blessed are You, Hashem, our G-d, King of the universe. L’chaim, l’chaim. Have a good week. I have to reveal a little secret. There’s such a wonderful choir here, with such a wonderful conductor—why should I push my way into the middle? But I’ll let you in on a secret, just between us. It has to do with a birthday. So I said, I’m not giving this up. It’s fifty years since the convention of Agudas Chassidei Chabad, and it’s my birthday. Am I going to sit on the sidelines like a klutz? L’chaim, l’chaim. Actually, this whole business of playing the violin goes back—it started in 5729. I played before that, but the truth is, it began in ’29. When I traveled to the Rebbe for the first time, my family told me, “Take your violin along.” I didn’t yet know what would come of it, but I took it. I stayed with the Zarche family, and on the night after Simchas Torah—I think Simchas Torah and Shemini Atzeres fell in a two-day stretch then, with Motzaei Shabbos Bereishis following—I came to the Rebbe for the first time and encountered a scene familiar to the old-timers among us: all the pushing as people stood in line to receive a cup of kos shel bracha. I was also a teacher at the vocational school in Kfar Chabad then. When I got close to receiving the cup, I was standing with the well-known mohel Reb Matyush Raskin, a”h, and he said to me, “Shmuel, ask the Rebbe for permission to play.” By then they had put up the first bleachers, and they had told me beforehand to bring the violin. It was underneath the bleachers. With all the pushing, I finally reached the Rebbe. It was my first time; I didn’t know how the whole thing worked, and I barely managed to get to the Rebbe with my little cup for l’chaim. I asked, “Rebbe, may I have permission to play the violin?” The Rebbe looked at me, took out a bottle of mashke—a flat Smirnoff bottle, like the ones the Rebbe used to distribute—and since I was a teacher at the vocational school, he said to me, “This is for those you teach,”

1:14:08 Speaker 3 and he put the bottle of mashke in my hand. In a split second I thought, Master of the Universe, wait—am I going to start explaining to the Rebbe what I meant? You take it. I took the bottle and was out of the—I was pushed right out of the line. Reb Groner and Vestritsky and everyone were there. I flew out of the line like a cork out of a bottle. So Matyush the mohel said to me, “Go in again. Ask the Rebbe for permission to play.” All right, so I tried to get back into the line. They wouldn’t let me. It was like the Berlin Wall; you couldn’t get near it. I kept trying and trying, and finally I managed to get in. Then the Rebbe said, “Very good, please!” He went on pouring kos shel bracha with his holy hand, and I started to play. I was in very distinguished company, with the famous chazzan Talishovsky, and Reb Zaltzman and Charitonov were there too. So I began playing as well. I had a Sefer Haniggunim with me, and the first niggun in this history of playing the violin before the Rebbe was “Es Nert Zich.” As I played it, people there corrected me on various points. There were technical details in the niggun that those who knew it said weren’t quite right. All the while, the Rebbe continued pouring kos shel bracha and watching. When I finished the niggun, the Rebbe said, “That final phrase—again, again.” And he told me, “Pianissimo.” The Chabad chassidim, the fellows next to me, looked over and asked, “What? What did the Rebbe say to you?” They thought it was some kind of magic word. Pianissimo. Pianissimo is an Italian musical term. Most musical terms come from Italian, and pianissimo means to play more and more softly, softer each time.

1:16:40 Speaker 3 So the Rebbe told me to repeat the final phrase, again and again, each time more softly. After I had played it several times, the Rebbe continued pouring kos shel bracha with his holy hand. And when I reached the “ai da da” part, the Rebbe said, “A long tekiah!” Just like that. I bowed—remember, eh? You don’t remember that? Well, a long tekiah. The Rebbe raised his holy hand, and I kept playing. My bow was worn out, and [unclear]. So that was the first niggun, and we’ll play it now. I have a few more secrets about niggunim to tell you later, briefly.

1:19:32 Speaker 4 I won’t play now, but I’ll tell you a few interesting things. Since they’re from the Rebbe, they’re worth hearing. When I came out of my first yechidus, it was very late, and I was a little out of it. I had been fasting and everything. As I came out, Reb Groner told me, “Go on, come out, come out.” Chabad chassidim were standing by the doorway, hoping to hear what the Rebbe had said. Reb Mendel Futerfas was among the first standing there, and he said, “Shmuel, [unclear]?” That was after my first yechidus. I heard, “[unclear].” And I’ll finish with one thing that perhaps the choir can sing. At the hakafos on Simchas Torah 5734, I had the privilege of being there when the Rebbe sang “Ha’aderes Veha’emunah” for the first time. It was at the fourth hakafah. The Rebbe turned toward the crowd and, for the first time, began “Ha’aderes Veha’emunah.” I also had the privilege of playing the niggun on the night after Simchas Torah. There were many guests from France that year. I played many niggunim; it was no longer my first time, but something more familiar. When I played that niggun, the Rebbe turned to me and said, “It’s too refined to make a revolution against the yetzer hara.” Then he turned toward the bleachers where those French guests were standing: “Start singing.” And everyone sang “Ha’aderes Veha’emunah.” Well, choir—go ahead.

1:21:01 Speaker 5 We wish Rabbi Shmuel many long, good years, in health and with nachas. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a year for breaking through. It is joy that breaks through all boundaries. Together with the choir of Chabad chassidim, we ask everyone here to join the choir for one final niggun of the Rebbe Rashab, with Reb Nemuel Harush[?], accompanist Reb Elior Wollner[?], and the choir. But not just them—all of us together for one final niggun.

1:31:12 Speaker 6 Let’s hear everyone together.

1:35:22 Speaker 7 Thank you very much, and yasher koach to the choir of Chabad chassidim, with Reb Nachman Eliyahu Harush[?] and accompanist Reb Elior Wollner[?]. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re continuing; the farbrengen isn’t stopping. Please, everyone, return to your seats. Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is 20 Cheshvan, the beginning of the 150th year since the birth of the Rebbe Rashab. The great stir the Rebbe made over the Alter Rebbe’s 150th year is well known, as is the stir the Rebbe made over the Baal Shem Tov’s 200th year. At a farbrengen, the Rebbe even addressed the question of why we mark round-number anniversaries. The Rebbe connected it to what his predecessor, the Frierdiker Rebbe, said about the special quality of such days. Especially when we’re speaking of three jubilee periods since the Rebbe Rashab’s birth: his spiritual influence is stronger at this time. Three jubilee periods—three times establishes a lasting status. And if the Rebbe’s spiritual influence is stronger, then that of the chassidim grows stronger along with it. This year is also the ninetieth year since the Rebbe Rashab’s passing, and we are marking fifty years, at the fiftieth convention. Our Sages tell us, “At fifty, one attains the capacity to give counsel.” Among the Polish chassidim, they used to ask: What does “at fifty, the capacity to give counsel” mean? It’s like a man who got lost in a forest and met his friend. He asked him how to get out of the forest, and his friend replied, “I don’t know how to get out. I can only tell you which way not to go, so you don’t get into more trouble.” But with us in Chabad, counsel is not only about how to avoid trouble. It’s about finding the way out and knowing where to go. The Rebbe Rashab left us immeasurable treasures of Chassidus to show us the way out of the forest and how to fulfill “Ufaratzta”—“You shall spread forth.” For this, we are now honored to invite the mashpia of the Tomchei Temimim yeshiva in Kfar Chabad, Rabbi Zalman Gopin, who has reached the age of counsel.

1:38:12 Speaker 8 L’chaim, l’chaim. First of all, we need to rejoice in the very fact that we’ve come together. We’re used to each being in his own place, in his own role and on his own shlichus, among people—among fellow Jews whom we need to bring closer. Here, all of us from anash are together. That’s not an everyday thing, and we need to rejoice in this gathering itself and feel, “How fortunate we are, how good is our portion, how pleasant our lot,” that we’ve merited to be involved in Chassidus together with the Temimim. Shmuel Katan earlier sang the niggun “Eating comes naturally.” The Rebbe explains the niggun. What is the chossid complaining about? “Eating comes naturally, sleeping comes naturally, but davening doesn’t come naturally.” What does that mean? Davening—what’s your complaint? Just daven. The point is that the chossid will indeed daven, but his complaint is that it doesn’t come naturally. “Eating comes naturally” means it happens on its own. You don’t need to prepare yourself to eat. Do you need to contemplate anything before you go to eat? You don’t need to contemplate anything to develop an appetite or a desire for food. It comes on its own. Before you go to sleep, you don’t need to contemplate anything or make preparations so you’ll be able to fall asleep. Sleep, dream. But davening doesn’t come on its own. For that, you need to prepare. You need to learn Chassidus beforehand; you need to think about Chassidus. You need to make various preparations. It doesn’t come on its own; you have to do it. That’s the wording. No, we don’t say “it eats”; we say “sleep.” Eating can happen naturally right away. Sleeping can happen naturally right away. But davening—you don’t daven naturally without preparing. Avodah doesn’t work that way. That is the chossid’s complaint in this niggun. He’s a chossid immersed in Chassidus. This is his concern; this is what pains him. Davening takes work. We’re at a gathering of Temimim. What does “Temimim” mean? In another language, it corresponds to the concept of being whole.

1:41:26 Speaker 8 As the Rebbe also mentioned earlier, Temimim means whole. But since when have chassidim sought to be people who have everything? That is the work of becoming complete. In general, “tamim” and “complete” may go together, but more precisely they are different things. Someone who is complete has many things. He is complete. Speaking in our terms, he knows nigleh and Chassidus, and Kabbalah and mussar too. Perhaps he also has knowledge of other fields and worldly wisdom. He is complete in every area. A tamim is not necessarily complete in everything. “Tamim” does not refer to what you know. It refers to you yourself. You don’t know everything; you’re not complete in every area. But what you do know has taken hold of you completely. It refers to you, to your soul, to all your faculties. What you know has taken hold of you completely. That is a tamim. Being complete means you are complete in all sorts of things, with a great deal of knowledge. It refers to the object, to what is being studied—to use the language of nigleh. “Tamim” refers to the person; it refers to you. What you know has taken hold of you completely. Reb Mendel related a story about Rabbi Eliezer[?], a student of Reb Chatche Feigin. Reb Chatche Feigin once spoke with the students in the yeshiva, the Temimim, about the Baal Shem Tov’s innovation concerning the oneness of Hashem. He told them that the Baal Shem Tov taught a new understanding of Hashem’s oneness: “There is nothing besides Him” means there is no other existence. Not merely that there is no other G-d, but that there is no other existence. According to the simple meaning, “There is nothing besides Him” means there is no other G-d. The Baal Shem Tov taught that there is no other existence at all. Before the Baal Shem Tov, people understood that there was no other G-d, but that the world did exist. One of the students asked him—

1:44:29 Speaker 8 One of the bachurim, one of the Temimim, asked Reb Chatche: “What do you mean, Reb Chatche? Are you saying that before the Baal Shem Tov, Jews thought and believed there was an existence apart from G-dliness? There is G-dliness, there is Hashem, and there is also a world. Is that what Jews thought before? Is that what you’re saying—that before the Baal Shem Tov, Jews thought there was an existence outside G-dliness, another existence? How can you say such a thing?” Reb Chatche told them: That is precisely the Baal Shem Tov’s innovation. If you, as a tamim, could even entertain the possibility of another way of thinking, could understand it at least as an initial supposition—the Baal Shem Tov taught that there is nothing else, no existence besides Him, while before the Baal Shem Tov there was another view: there is no other G-d, but is there another existence? Yes. If you could grasp that as a possibility, as another view—there’s the Baal Shem Tov’s view and there’s the view from before the Baal Shem Tov; there are different views. The Baal Shem Tov, or “the Besht,” as people call him today, said this and this and this, and before him there was another view. If you could even entertain and understand another view as an initial supposition, then the Baal Shem Tov’s teaching has not taken hold of you. The Baal Shem Tov’s teaching, as he understood it, is meant to reach you so deeply that you cannot understand how it could be otherwise. These are not two views. There is no such possibility. That is what “tamim” means: this idea has taken hold of you completely, so that there is no room at all for anything else. It has taken hold of you. It’s not that you are—

1:46:47 Speaker 8 complete in all areas of knowledge. You don’t know everything; you don’t know the entire Torah. [unclear] You don’t know every subject, every view and every exposition. Each person knows what he knows, but what you do know—that is where “tamim” comes in. It refers to your soul: your entire soul is bound up with this. That is a tamim. There is no part of your soul that it has not penetrated. That is what a tamim is. The Temimim showed mesirus nefesh throughout the generations in Russia and right up to this day. We can see clearly that, according to what each one knows, it has taken hold of him completely. We see it. There are many Jews in our generation who learn Chassidus, but they also study other things, other approaches: a little Breslov, a little Rabbi Kook, a little of something else. Why shouldn’t they learn more Chassidus? They want to be complete. Why only Chassidus? There’s Ger Chassidus, there’s Chabad, there’s [unclear] Chassidus, there’s Rabbi Kook, there’s Breslov. There are all kinds of approaches and ideas. They want to be complete; they want to know everything. I’m speaking here from actual experience: someone who studies everything ends up with nothing. He doesn’t have Chabad; he has nothing. You want to be complete? You want to have this and that and this and that? You end up with nothing. Why? Because when you have many things, you don’t devote yourself to any one thing. [unclear], you see, you don’t devote yourself to anything. You don’t devote yourself, and so you—

1:49:15 Speaker 8 You remain yourself. Someone who takes a little of this and a little of that and a little of everything else is none of those things. He remains what he was: his own kind of chossid, his own kind of [unclear]. Why? Because he doesn’t give himself over. He doesn’t give himself over to anything. That is the exact opposite of a Tomim. Someone asked the Rebbe Rashab: “You speak to your students in Tomchei Temimim in Lubavitch and demand such things of them—deep contemplation, lengthy prayer, iskafya, and all the rest. Fine, a bochur in Tomchei Temimim might be able to try to do these things. But afterward, when he goes out into the world, it isn’t practical. You aren’t giving him a path he can put into practice.” The Rebbe Rashab gave him the analogy of an oven. An oven is hot, very hot. Once you move away from it, of course the warmth begins to diminish. The farther away you go, the cooler it gets. But the hotter the oven is, the more its heat still affects you even at a distance. That was the Rebbe Rashab’s point: Tomchei Temimim is an oven. The stronger the heat inside Tomchei Temimim, the more warmth remains with you even when you later go out into the world, away from the oven. You can’t sit in [unclear] forever. But the oven’s heat always keeps you somewhat warmer. Even as you move farther away—even after a year, ten years, thirty years, fifty years—you still have that warmth. That is the analogy the Rebbe Rashab, whose soul is in Gan Eden, gave about Tomchei Temimim. And perhaps we can add this:

1:52:20 Speaker 8 We know and see the Rebbe’s approach to all these matters. The whole idea of Tomchei Temimim is that the Rebbe called everyone who had ever studied there a Tomim. Once you enter Tomchei Temimim, you are a Tomim. You may have been there decades ago; you may now be seventy or eighty years old, fifty years beyond the walls of the yeshiva. You are still a Tomim. The Rebbe also asked people to come into Tomchei Temimim on 20 Cheshvan. Over Shabbos, many, many young married men from the village came into the yeshiva—some last night, some this morning for Chassidus, others for davening or for the farbrengen. Many came into Tomchei Temimim on 20 Cheshvan. And, by the way, the Rebbe went further than the Rebbe Rashab’s analogy of the oven. The Rebbe Rashab, of blessed memory, said that the hotter the oven, the more warmth stays with you even when you go far away. The Rebbe wanted more than that. The Rebbe wanted you never to leave the oven at all. Wherever you go, take the oven with you. That is what the Rebbe wanted. Not that you leave the oven but remain close to it. Some people say, “I come in on 20 Cheshvan to remember—to remember Tomchei Temimim, to stir up memories of what once was.” What does it mean, to remember? [unclear] The Rebbe wanted you not to leave Tomchei Temimim. Take the oven wherever you go; go together with the oven. Then you never leave it, and distance—whether in time or in spiritual standing—loses its significance. You may be in a spiritually distant place, but if you carry the oven with you, wherever you are, you are still within these very matters. And not only do you remain involved, without, G-d forbid, growing weaker or colder; on the contrary, wherever you are,

1:55:01 Speaker 8 you can warm someone else. You can warm another Jew. Take the oven with you. That is what the Rebbe wanted: don’t leave the oven; take it along. Let’s explain what it means, in practice, to take the oven with you. An oven is a source that produces heat. When you leave it, you have only the heat that spreads out from it, the warmth it has already produced. But the oven itself produces heat. To take the oven with you means not living on credit, enjoying warmth from long ago. It means being like an oven yourself, producing warmth. If you produce warmth, then of course you never grow cold; and second, you can warm another Jew, because you are producing warmth. Producing warmth takes effort: you toil and you work, in actual practice. I think of it this way—and we are speaking among ourselves, about ourselves. On Shabbos, there is the niggun the Rebbe taught, “Stav Ya Pitu.” The niggun has two verses, about Pyatnitsa and Subbota. Subbota is Shabbos; Pyatnitsa is Erev Shabbos. The Rebbe explained that a Jew has the avodah of the weekdays and the avodah of Shabbos, Subbota. Shabbos is a time of rest, but that doesn’t mean doing nothing. On the contrary, it is avodah in a restful manner. The yetzer hara interferes less, so this is the true avodah. There is an avodah of Shabbos, and the main avodah of the heart—prayer—belongs especially to Shabbos. So for someone busy all week, Shabbos is the time to learn Chassidus and spend a little time davening. And so,

1:57:42 Speaker 8 on Shabbos, when you come to learn Chassidus for that hour, come in a way that creates vitality. If you learn just to discharge an obligation, or come to a gathering and listen casually without investing yourself, you have some of the warmth that has spread from the source. That is true. But if you sit and toil, investing yourself in the Chassidus you are learning, then you are truly working at it. You are not just doing it to discharge an obligation. You are absorbed in it, immersed in it. At that very moment you are creating vitality through Chassidus, creating life, creating warmth. That protects you; it keeps you inside the oven. The effort you put in on Shabbos gives life to all your learning during the week. I know that every shul has a regular learning session. Here, too, at the shul in the Menachem neighborhood, a very large group learns Chassidus for half an hour. If you come just to discharge an obligation, mainly to feel that you learned a little, that is fine; it is good too. But there are young married men who are absorbed in it on Shabbos. During that hour they learn with their full attention. As the rabbi says, [unclear]. While you are learning, you are only learning. Nothing outside that hour exists for you then. You are wholly immersed in Chassidus, wholly immersed in the subject. You want to understand it: What does it mean? How does it apply in practice? What can I take from this maamar? That is how you learn during that hour on Shabbos—not to discharge an obligation, not merely to feel that you have learned Chassidus, but because you are immersed in it. You live it. Then even the twenty minutes you learn each day become

1:59:55 Speaker 8 twenty minutes of life. They are twenty minutes that create vitality within you, bringing vitality that lasts the entire day. So if Shabbos is as it should be, [unclear]. The hour of Chassidus before davening on Shabbos depends on how you learn during that hour, what you make of it. If you do it just to get through the material, fine—you got through it, and it has an effect too. But it does not create vitality. I know young married men who learn Chassidus that way on Shabbos morning. They are businessmen, but during that hour they are absorbed in what they learn and live with it; nothing else exists for them. They are immersed in that hour. They aren’t there merely to hear a good vort, a good story, or a good explanation. They live it. They create vitality. They are inside the oven, and they never grow cold. That hour gives life to the entire week. That is what it means. The Rebbe wanted us never to leave the oven—never to leave it. I’ll just finish with a story I heard yesterday, a story from long ago—a good story. When we call someone a Tomim, we mean that he has this wholeheartedness. It doesn’t necessarily mean he knows everything; he doesn’t know the entire Torah. Everyone knows some Chumash, but whatever Chassidus you do know, you are a Tomim: it has taken hold of you completely. It has taken hold of your thought and speech, of your whole being. I heard a story from the elder Rabbi Gurevitch of Kfar Chabad. A Jew asked the Rebbe about going to university, something along those lines. The Rebbe said

2:02:18 Speaker 8 He was told to go ask the rabbi, the rabbi of Kfar Chabad, Rabbi Gurevitch. So he came to Rabbi Gurevitch to ask his question. A woman was standing there with a question about a chicken that had a nail stuck in it. A nail. What could be done? Rabbi Gurevitch examined it, looked it over, and saw what had happened. As he did, he spoke aloud. He addressed the chicken and said: “You had an owner. Your owner gave you food, good food, but you went grazing in other fields, in foreign fields. You went looking for food and all sorts of other things, and so a nail got into you. You ate a nail, and that nail made you treif. You are treif, and you will remain treif forever. You ate a nail; you will remain treif forever.” By then, that young man no longer needed to ask Rabbi Gurevitch his question. His question about going to university and all that had already been answered. You have an owner who gives you food, and then you go looking in foreign fields, where you’ll eat one nail or another. Don’t go looking for nails. You have an owner who gives you food. That was the elderly rabbi, Rabbi Gurevitch of Kfar Chabad. And if we’re talking about not going elsewhere to study, we have the Torah that our owner teaches us: Chassidus, sichos. How fortunate we are, how good is our portion. We don’t need to look for other things. Certainly, we don’t need to look for negative things that shouldn’t even be mentioned here. We’ll speak about that, but negative things—not questions of studying moral philosophy, but studying

2:04:48 Speaker 8 negative things, things everyone agrees are negative—those things should surely be unthinkable to us. Unthinkable. Elsewhere, they have to impose a ban on the internet, on such things. For us, there should be no need to impose a ban. These things should be unthinkable from the outset. There is no place for them. How fortunate we are, how good is our portion. We have been privileged to have the light of Chassidus. Someone here had a fine idea. This is the 150th anniversary of the Rebbe Rashab’s birth. The Rebbe Rashab delivered series of maamarim. And as is well known, when did those series begin? They began in 5659. The first major series was the series of 5659. Why? Because that was when Tomchei Temimim was founded, and the Rebbe Rashab delivered those series for the Temimim. The Rebbe Rashab traveled outside Lubavitch for various reasons, and he delivered Chassidus there too, but not series of maamarim. He delivered those series only when he was at Tomchei Temimim with Temimim who were immersed in Chassidus. So some have proposed that, in honor of the Rebbe Rashab’s 150th anniversary, each person take on one of the Rebbe Rashab’s maamarim or series and engage with it throughout the year, making Chassidus his occupation. May Hashem help us all, first of all, to recognize and appreciate how fortunate we are and how good our portion is, and to be immersed in Chassidus. Not in all the ringtones and politics and all that. That belongs outside the camp. Be immersed in Chassidus, think Chassidus, connect with Chassidus, speak with Chassidus, live with Chassidus. That is our life. That is how we will educate our children, each of us in our own shlichus. And through that, we will bring others to life, quite literally. May we merit that the Rebbe can come and say, “See the children I have raised.”

2:07:48 Speaker 9 Well, according to what Rabbi Gopin has said, each of us certainly has it within our power—quite easily, or perhaps not quite so easily, with a little effort—to simply be a Tomim. To be a pure Tomim in shlichus, in learning, in Chassidus. To be warm, so that even when people move away, they still feel that warmth, and all the other things we heard from Rabbi Gopin. So, gentlemen, each of you has been given a sheet of paper. Each of you simply needs to take the matches, light the furnace, and let that warmth spread everywhere. It isn’t enough for me to have the match in my own hand. Here is a list of the Rebbe Rashab’s books of maamarim. We know that the Rebbe says that on an auspicious day, a day when the Rebbe’s mazal is ascendant, the mazal of the chassidim is ascendant too. We need to make some connection, to bind our mazal to the Rebbe’s mazal. And the way to do that, of course, is by studying his teachings. So let everyone make the effort to connect, to become attached, and to immerse himself in the Rebbe Rashab’s teachings during this 150th-anniversary year. Let each person take on one of these books and pass his choice along to the organizers. That will be one of the practical resolutions of today’s gathering, on 20 Cheshvan of the 150th-anniversary year. At this opportunity, we ask everyone to join in praying for a complete recovery for Irit bas Rivka, Uriel ben Tamar, and Yeshayahu ben Tamar—may they have a complete recovery very soon. Ladies and gentlemen, we still have the choir to hear later, and a JEM video to watch in its premiere screening. It is due to be released in the coming days and features the Rebbe’s conversations with security officials. But first, we turn to the central, practical point of today’s farbrengen: spreading out in shlichus. Ladies and gentlemen, in one week we will mark together the anniversary of the great akeidah, the dreadful, terrible massacre of our fellow shluchim, Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg and the shlucha Rivka Holtzberg—may Hashem avenge their blood. The whole world was shaken, and remains shaken. The world had never experienced a shock like the great akeidah

2:10:46 Speaker 9 of these shluchim. The searing pain, the tears—there are no words to express the pain. But at the same time, ladies and gentlemen, let us look at how the whole world saw the response of Chabad chassidim to this dreadful, terrible pain; how the world saw the response of the shluchim to this terrible akeidah. The response was clear: the pain became a driving force to expand and strengthen, to double and triple the work of shlichus. Anash throughout the world—and I can tell you from my own experience: that very week, young married men in Jerusalem approached me and asked where they could get involved, where they could start a shlichus, a Chabad House in some neighborhood. And we know that this happened in every corner and every place: people took it upon themselves to expand and strengthen the work of shlichus. That was the response the shaken world saw—an expansion of activity and shlichus in response to this terrible pain. Those who carried out the attack intended the opposite, but the result was: “So may they multiply, and so may they spread.” Ladies and gentlemen, action is what matters most, and nothing is better than a living example. We cannot bring up to the stage all the shluchim who began their work during the year, but we have invited three shluchim. Each went out on shlichus, but not to the same kind of shlichus. These are three different kinds of shlichus: different places, different populations, different missions—whether spreading Yiddishkeit, spreading the wellsprings, or the various other elements that differ from place to place and that a shliach has to deal with. So we selected three examples from different places, with different kinds of work and different populations. First of all, I have the honor of asking and inviting the three shluchim to come up to the stage: Rabbi Netanel Ben Ma’as[?], a shliach in one of the communities of Emek Hefer; Rabbi Rafael Goldmitz, the Rebbe’s shliach in Achuzat Etrog, Merkaz Shapira; and third, Rabbi Schneur Zalman Brod, a shliach in Ramat

2:13:49 Speaker 9 Poleg and Ir Yamim in the city of Netanya. Let the three shluchim come up, and let’s give them a proper welcome. Please. They’re all up here already, waiting for applause. Come on. I see Rafael, I see Rabbi Netanel. Where’s Rabbi Schneur Zalman? Where is he hiding? Please, come up. I want—so where are the chairs for the shluchim? Who can help us make room for them? Gentlemen, the title is “The Fire of Shlichus Spreads,” and indeed, as we heard from Rabbi Gopin as well, this fire warms people even from afar. Rabbi Netanel Ben-Maas[?] is the first of the three. Notice that the announcements said “one of the communities in Emek Chefer.” That wording itself tells us that this shliach had to go somewhere whose name we couldn’t even publicize. Because of the sensitivities there and the population, publishing the name could jeopardize the shlichus, could harm it, so we were still careful in the publicity. But here we can tell you that Rabbi Netanel Ben-Maas[?] is the shliach in Mikhmoret, in Emek Chefer. As we’ve said, he has to contend with the fact that we couldn’t publicize the name—various sensitivities, a sensitive population. Let’s hear from Rabbi Netanel what led him to go out on shlichus, how he handles it, how he was received, what the shlichus is like today, and whatever else we don’t know. Rabbi Netanel, please.

2:16:03 Speaker 10 L’chaim, l’chaim. About two weeks ago, Rabbi Brod asked me to speak a little about the shlichus. I don’t know how a new shliach is supposed to respond to that, but I was a little hesitant to speak. He asked me, “What happened?” He was somewhat taken aback. “You don’t want to talk about the shlichus?” I told him, “I’d very much like to talk about it and tell everyone about it, so they too will join such a tremendous undertaking. But I have this problem and that problem.” So he said, “Well, what do we do?” And I gave him the solution: “Write what needs to be written.” And that really is what was written. When I started digging into my memories of how I began my shlichus, where the idea of going on shlichus came from in the first place—yes, everyone goes out, and that’s all well and good, but what makes a young married man who, boruch Hashem, is already settled, has a home, has a good kollel and, boruch Hashem, children, go out on shlichus in the middle of his life? It took me back eight years, to Rosh Chodesh Kislev, to a Rosh Chodesh Kislev farbrengen at the home of Rabbi Goldberg shlita, the rosh yeshivah in Migdal HaEmek. Rabbi Goldberg had come back full of excitement and in high spirits, and he sat and farbrenged with us all night. But the entire night revolved around one story, about one of the shluchim in Russia who was a former student of his. He told us how pleased he was with the shlichus of this very successful shliach, Rabbi Wolf, and he spent the whole night farbrenging about that student. Then, toward two in the morning, Rabbi Goldberg summed up the farbrengen: Whoever wants to be connected to the Rebbe as he was before Gimmel Tammuz, to have a full connection, must go out on shlichus. At that moment I decided that I would do everything I could to become a shliach too, to go out on shlichus so that I could feel

2:18:19 Speaker 10 that feeling, to feel the Rebbe as I had before Gimmel Tammuz. I got married, and like any young married man, I began learning in kollel. I chose a particular kollel, one focused on halachah, so that when I went out on shlichus I would know how to answer questions and how to guide a community. The whole point was to learn how to carry out the shlichus properly, because you can’t just bluff your way through. People can tell if you’re bluffing. People know whether you’re on top of things, whether you know halachah, whether you even understand the things a congregation, a community, needs. Meanwhile, after three years, I started hearing about opportunities to go out on shlichus, so I looked for a somewhat challenging place, somewhere I could put my abilities to use on my own. One day I got a call from a friend at the Chabad House in Hadera. He said, “Listen, would you be interested in spending a Shabbos at a maritime education institution in Mikhmoret?” I said to myself, “A maritime education institution, a Shabbos—there’s no community, nothing.” But that was when the spark caught. I thought perhaps this could be an opening for shlichus. I told him, “Let me get back to you.” I called a few friends who knew the place, and they gave me someone else’s phone number. I called him and asked, “Tell me, what’s it like there?” He said, “It’s a nice little community, 350 families. The atmosphere there leans very much to the left. These are people born with a silver spoon—or three spoons, silver, gold and platinum, whatever you like—in their mouths. They live very comfortably; all they have left to do is go to the beach all day.” I said, “Well, what else? Is there anything spiritual there?” “Yes, there’s a rabbi there, a young fellow

2:20:25 Speaker 10 from the Ayelet HaShachar organization. He’s been there a whole year, and right now he’s about to leave.” “What happened?” “He’s leaving. He gave them some story about not getting along with the community, or about the children’s education. He’s leaving.” I saw that the timing was perfect. I called my friend at the Chabad House in Hadera and told him I was coming for Shabbos. I arrived for Shabbos, and that first Shabbos I came happened to be the previous rabbi’s farewell Shabbos. I got there and gradually began connecting with people. In places like that, you have to know what to say and what not to say. You have to be very, very careful. One of the traditional people who prayed there was already saying, “Well, now we have a new rabbi.” I tempered his enthusiasm and told him, “Easy, easy. That doesn’t happen so quickly.” At seudah shlishis I told them, “Friends, if you want to keep something going here, it has to be through Torah, a connection built around Torah.” In general, I felt that to succeed in life you need a role model. And this is the place to say that my role model is Rabbi Chaim Shlomo Diskin of Kiryat Ata. I come from his community in Kiryat Ata, and I saw him as a role model. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to know the secret of his success. I discovered that the secret was Torah: connecting the community to Torah. Once you connect a community to Torah, first of all, a community takes shape. After that come the other things a community needs, whether preschools or a Talmud Torah and so on. I approached them and said, “If you’d like, let’s set up a Torah class.” We started a Torah class, scheduled it for every Tuesday, and I decided that I would not give up that class, no matter what. The following story

2:22:19 Speaker 10 illustrates the point. One time, the people were coming out of the class and saw my wife sitting in the car. They asked me, “What’s going on? You brought your wife?” I said, “We have to go on to a wedding in Kfar Chabad.” So they said, “Well, why didn’t you postpone the class? Why hold it at all?” I told them, “Friends, you don’t postpone a class. A class always takes place at its set time, on its set day. No matter what, you don’t postpone it.” That phrase, “You don’t postpone a class,” made an impression on them. They saw that we were serious, and that seriousness gave the work a push forward. I worked there for three years. For Lag BaOmer, for example, I didn’t hold a parade. You can’t hold a parade in a place like that. You have to present things in a way people can accept. Something perfectly normal in Tel Aviv or Ramat Gan or Haifa won’t necessarily be normal in the community where I am. So I decided to make it a sort of gathering. We had a barbecue. Of course, some cynical people told me, “Nobody’s going to show up.” I prepared a sicha of the Rebbe’s properly and waited, hoping everything would go well. At first two or three people arrived, and by the appointed time there were 33 people. I could see that Rashbi was helping with this: 33 people on Lag BaOmer means something. And that’s how we kept moving forward. Rosh Hashanah came, and I brought bochurim from Kfar Chabad. You should have seen their excitement: “Oh, here’s a place, a challenging place!” I told them, “Friends, please be careful not to cause a chillul Hashem.” They promised me they wouldn’t, and indeed, they went into a few courtyards and began blowing the shofar for people. Some said yes; some said no.

2:24:12 Speaker 10 They went into one of the homes, the home of the Katz family. The husband is actually a kohen. They blew the shofar for them, and suddenly the wife began to cry. They asked her, “What happened?” She said, “It reminds us of when we were little children. We used to go to shul and hear the shofar.” Then she said to him, “Nu, Shuki, go do Birchas Kohanim in shul tomorrow.” That brought him to shul the next evening, and the following morning he did Birchas Kohanim. I won’t tire you with all the stories from those three years. I’ll just tell you that throughout those three years, we were looking for a house there. Just so you understand, rent for a house there starts at six to seven thousand shekels a month, and coming up with that amount is a little difficult. But I said, all right, we can get past that. Everyone told me, “Chabad is funding you.” I told them, “Yes.” Then they said, “Fine, but you have an even worse problem: demand exceeds supply.” In other words, there are hardly any houses to rent in Michmoret. If there are any, they’re only small apartments with small rooms. And if a house does come up, will they rent it to a chareidi? That would be the last thing they’d do. Somehow, six months ago, we found a house—a house with a story of its own. We managed to get it, and boruch Hashem, the price came down too, and we were able to rent it. We went out on shlichus. We went out on shlichus, and I’m telling you, earlier, when I asked to be put on the lists, they told me, “As long as you don’t live there, there’s nothing to discuss.” I said, “But I’m doing the work of a shliach.” “No. Live there, and then we’ll talk about it.” I said, “Okay.” And they really were right.

2:26:00 Speaker 10 Once you live in a place, you live it, you breathe it, you feel it. You feel that every moment you’re there, even when you’re asleep, you’re on shlichus, because it’s a place where you don’t naturally belong. It’s a different atmosphere. Sometimes, when I walked down the street—not anymore, but at first—I felt like an outsider. When I think about bringing bochurim, I wonder whether to bring two, because if I bring three, that might already be too much here, like a chareidi demonstration in the village. It’s difficult. That’s what happened to me this past Simchas Torah. I had a very hard time finding bochurim, and at the last minute I found two fellows. Then one of them called me and said, “I can bring one more.” I told him, “Excellent!” But I called him back and said, “Forget it, better not. It’ll be bad if I bring another one.” Anyway, we got started and carried on with the shlichus work. The first thing I did was organize a morning minyan. I said that once there’s morning davening, we’ll be starting with something good. Davening is at six in the morning. That six-o’clock minyan actually took up the whole day, because all day long I had to text people: “Nu, are you coming to davening tomorrow? Are you coming tomorrow?” Making a minyan in our village is like bringing a spacecraft down from the moon and landing it on Earth. It’s an incredibly difficult thing. I remember telling them about it at Tzach, and they really made a joke of it. “Nu,” they said, “we’ll put up a sign too.” In Chavatzelet, the next village over, there’s a minyan ten minutes before sunset. “Soon we’ll put up that

2:27:42 Speaker 10 sign in Michmoret too, and we’ll even write it in Yiddish.” Anyway, I started the minyan, and it was running regularly. The first week went by, then the second, then the third. Suddenly, one day that week, I met one of the shul’s gabbaim, who was in charge on behalf of the village committee, and I could see that something was wrong. I asked him, “My friend, what’s going on?” He told me, “Forget it. We need to speak privately. And you should know: whoever cooks the dish ends up eating it.” I said, “What happened? What have I done?” He said, “Forget it.” He left me stewing over it for a week. On Tuesday, after the shiur, he came over to me with someone else. Without any warning, they opened with, “What’s this publicity?” I asked them, “What publicity?” It hadn’t occurred to me that they might find their way onto a Chabad website or anything like that. Then they started: “What’s this publicity you put on the Chabad website?” I tried to explain, “Listen, it’s not that bad. It isn’t what you’re making it out to be.” And then I got a barrage of insults and shouting: “You’re ungrateful after everything we’ve given you! What have you done?” I tried to explain, “Guys, it doesn’t say what you’re claiming.” “Oh, it doesn’t?” It turned out they’d held a presentation at the village committee office. They used a projector and put the entire article up on the screen—and not just the article, but the comments too, including comments my wife had received: “Well done! Just as you were so good at home and at school, you’re doing well on shlichus too. Keep going. And Rabbi Netanel, may you keep going and conquer Emek Hefer,” and... I’m sure that didn’t

2:29:34 Speaker 10 make them happy. I came home shattered. I didn’t know what to do. I called Rabbi Lipsker, and he began explaining to me, “Listen, the internet isn’t what it once was, just another means of communication. You have to be careful with it and know when to write and when not to write.” So that’s why it says “one of the villages in Emek Hefer”: the fear is still there. For example, this Shabbos a decree was made: this year there won’t be a menorah in the center of the village. What happened? “It’s a Chabad symbol.” What does that have to do with it? Chabad puts menorahs everywhere. Still, they won’t allow a menorah. With Hashem’s help, I hope the darkness will diminish when we bring in the light. That’s one story. I’ll finish with another couple of little anecdotes. I decided to join in the village committee’s activities. I simply called them and said, “Guys, Rosh Hashanah is coming. It would be right for the kindergarten children to come and hear what the shofar is, what Rosh Hashanah is.” They said, “Okay, fine.” They brought the preschool and kindergarten children to hear about Rosh Hashanah and the shofar. I arrived at the shul, and all the children were already there. I started asking them questions and explaining things with humor they could appreciate. Of course, I put on a kittel, even though it has nothing to do with Rosh Hashanah. For them, any visible symbol makes a big impression. I began explaining the shofar, the meaning of Rosh Hashanah, and the Days of Awe. Children have such innocence, and they really took in every word deeply. Anyway, on Yom Kippur I was the chazzan in the shul. As I was leaving the shul, a father came up to me with

2:31:50 Speaker 10 A little girl. Then he says to me, “Hello, are you the rabbi?” I said, “Yes.” So he says, “My little daughter wants to see you.” It turns out I’ve become a celebrity to the little children, because what they see in the show becomes real to them. So she came to see me. I said, “Hello! How are you? Everything all right?” Yes. Then he tells me, “She wants to tell you she enjoyed it very, very much. She was really happy.” That day passes, and the next day I meet a few more people who tell me, “My child saw you in shul and was very excited.” Erev Simchas Torah arrives. One practice I’ve adopted is to greet every person with a smile. You have no idea what that does. Just saying hello—“How are you? Good morning.” It doesn’t matter who it is; even the toughest person softens when you greet him. I have a neighbor across from my house, and every morning I say hello to him. Just a wave is enough: I’m leaving for the Talmud Torah and he’s leaving for work. Every morning we see each other and say hello, nothing more. On Erev Simchas Torah I wave hello to him again, but he backs up his car and comes over to me. I thought, “What’s happening now?” He comes up and says, “Listen, my little daughter asked me, ‘The rabbi is our neighbor, so why haven’t we visited him at home yet?’” I said, “Listen, you have a smart daughter. Good for you that she put a little sense into your head and got you to visit the rabbi at home.” Then I told him, “If you’re really a good sport, come tonight, Erev Simchas Torah, and join me for the Yom Tov meal.”

2:33:38 Speaker 10 And another important tip—I’m not in the business of handing out tips, but this really helps. Shlichus in different places takes many forms, but in places like these, in difficult places, hosting people on Shabbos makes a tremendous difference. It brings hearts closer. At first they arrive, and I start explaining: “Folks, we’re about to make Kiddush. It’ll be over in a few minutes.” They wait patiently, and suddenly each one starts telling us about his family background and his connection to some distant great-grandfather who was religious too. We start eating, and of course the meal goes on, and hearts follow actions. After the food, their ears open up too. They begin listening to a thought on the Torah here, a Chassidic niggun there, and it does so much. Later, I see the results. That Jew was so tense when he first came to my house, and then, all of a sudden, he softened and opened up. I felt that the barrier between us—when all we’d had was a morning hello—was gone. The very next day, on Simchas Torah itself, he came and started talking to me more, and a day later we’d become really good friends. When you watch the JEM clips, you see the same thing happening on the ground: when you do something, it has a continuation. I’ll tell a story—we’ll finish with one last story. In our community we also have people who are becoming much closer to Yiddishkeit. They live in the neighboring area, called Kfar HaMayim. The people there dress somewhat more alternatively and are connected to Breslov teachings. They come to daven with us and are part of our community. A man who had only very recently become a baal teshuvah came to us. He had originally given his children a nonreligious education. I recommended, “Please move them to a religious school. You’ll gain so much more.” He thanked me

2:35:38 Speaker 10 for that. On Chol Hamoed Sukkos they went to a festival somewhere near the Green Line, something connected with the Religious Zionist community. On the way there, they passed through an Arab village, and it was already late at night. One of the children needed the bathroom, so his parents told him, “Listen, dear, we can’t stop here. This is an Arab village.” The boy asked, “What’s an Arab? What’s an Arab village?” So his father said, “It’s a village where Arabs live. The Arabs hate the Jews, and we don’t get along with them. We haven’t managed to live together, so they might come and hurt us.” Then the child, with a child’s characteristic innocence, says to his father, “But Dad, I know one Arab who’s actually very nice. We love him and he loves us.” Both parents stared at him. “One Arab? Which Arab do you know who’s so nice?” He says, “Of course—Rabbi Netanel! I know him, and he’s very, very nice. He answers the phone at twelve at night.” After they finished rolling with laughter, the father came and told me, “Rabbi Netanel, you have to hear this story.” He didn’t know that I’d be able to keep telling that story to others. A gute voch to everyone.

2:36:57 Speaker 11 I’ll just come.

2:36:58 Speaker 13 He spoke, after the break.

2:36:58 Speaker 11 Take it.

2:36:59 Speaker 13 That’s a serious photographer.

2:37:03 Speaker 11 Thank you very much—what energy! Rabbi Netanel, [unclear], you’ve really broken through. What you’ve done is fascinating and moving, but what can the rest of us say after that? It stirs up a little healthy envy, and we have to do something to live up to our shlichus. Seeing these young people work with such energy and wonderful success when they devote themselves to shlichus! Netanel was so caught up in it that he went a little over time. We’ll ask the shluchim who follow him to keep to the allotted time. I’m sure each one has fascinating stories that we can all learn from, but the hands of the clock have to guide us. Gentlemen, the next shliach we’d like to introduce lives in Nachlas Har Chabad, a wonderful Chabad community—Jerusalem, Bnei Brak, Nachlas Har Chabad, Kfar Chabad. He’s one of our wonderful young men, a good and pleasant person, working in education and earning a good living. But after what happened, and after the great awakening, he and his wife couldn’t stay where they were. They had to go out on shlichus. The shliach, Rabbi Rafael Goldmitz, is working in a completely different direction, from another angle of shlichus. Here we’ve heard about places where they had to start with little drops of Yiddishkeit. Here we’re talking about the community of Michmoret, a new community in central—sorry, Achuzat Etrog in Merkaz Shapira, a new community, a new neighborhood. The people there don’t need an introduction to Judaism. They need the wellsprings of Chassidus to be spread to them. They’re a knitted-kippah community, distinct in that way. Let’s hear how a shliach spreading the wellsprings is received in a place like that. The shliach, Rabbi Rafael Goldmitz. Please—the educator.

2:39:20 Speaker 14 A gute voch. A little less than a year ago, I took part in another gathering here in Kfar Chabad, a large gathering with thousands of people of every kind: Anash and people who weren’t Anash. It was held in the plaza outside 770. It was the funeral of the holy Gabi and Rivka Holtzberg. I stood near Reb Meni Wolf’s store and looked toward the front of the platform. I saw the two tallisim covering the... covering them. All the moving speeches, all the crying. When the funeral ended, I went into 770 to find a minyan for Minchah. I entered one of the rooms and met a friend who had studied with me in yeshivah. Today he’s a shliach in Australia, in a remote city three hours’ flight from Sydney, from Melbourne, from the major centers. He’s the head shliach, the only shliach in the city, and he tells me he came to attend the funeral. I asked him, “Did you know Gabi?” He said, “No, I didn’t know him at all.” “And you came especially for this?” He said, “Yes, I came especially for the funeral, and later today I’m flying back home.” I was amazed, but he said to me simply, “Shluchim are one family. Even though I didn’t know him, we’re the same family.” I went home to Nachlas Har Chabad, deeply moved and stirred by the whole funeral, by the whole story. I thought to myself: What does the Rebbe want from us after something like this? True, I’ve already lived in Nachlas Har Chabad for five years. I have a family with children and a job; being an educator is also shlichus. But the Rebbe wants more than that. The Rebbe wants us to feel what shlichus is, to live in a place of shlichus. In Nachlas Har Chabad too, people, boruch Hashem, work in their professions. I myself gave classes in the city and in the surrounding communities, did mivtza tefillin and other mivtzoim. But if we weren’t going to India, then at least we could go on shlichus here in Israel. I phoned Tzach, the branch department, and one

2:41:58 Speaker 14 One of the places they suggested to me was the community of Merkaz Shapira, between Kiryat Malachi, Nachlas Har Chabad and Ashkelon. The community is divided into two parts. The older part has about a hundred families, and the people there have a very particular outlook—a very insular religious-Zionist outlook. Rabbi Druckman lives there. The newer part, where I live, is called Achuzat Etrog, and it’s three times the size of the older part. It has 350 families. The population there is more varied, but the community is generally religious, with people from across the religious spectrum. It’s mainly religious-Zionist, but there is a great deal to do. The community also has a high-school yeshiva, a hesder yeshiva, a pre-army academy, a school and kindergartens, and there’s no shortage of work to be done in those places either. But first of all, in a community like this, which, baruch Hashem, is religious, there are already Torah activities and Torah classes. What a shliach has to do is more in the area of spreading the wellsprings and carrying out the Rebbe’s directives. We arrived shortly before Pesach last year. Once we found an apartment, the first thing we did was a Moshiach’s Seudah. I put up notices throughout the community, and thirty or forty people came to one of the shuls. We sat and farbrenged—the first Moshiach’s Seudah in the community. Then, on Lag BaOmer, we held a big parade, and here too, baruch Hashem, there was a great response. Because the community is religious, baruch Hashem people respond well to activities if you do them wisely. If you don’t make them too in-your-face, but do them nicely, people come. There were three hundred children at the parade, which is a lot for a community like this. Before Shavuos, we held a special program for children during the Three Days of Preparation. It included learning, followed by a trip,

2:44:24 Speaker 14 a trip that filled an entire bus with children. Seventy children from the community took part in that program, and then on Shavuos, about 250 children came for the reading of the Ten Commandments. Of course, one of the first things you do in a community like this is open a Tanya class. So right after Pesach, we did just that. I was looking for a place to hold it, whether in my home or someone else’s. Two people were already arguing over it; each wanted the class in his home. And ever since then, every Shabbos after Pesach, without missing a single Shabbos, there has been a class. Fifteen people sit and learn Tanya in depth, seriously. There is also a class for women on the laws of family purity. It’s a weekly class: every Wednesday, thirty or forty women come and sit down for a serious, substantial class. From time to time, we also arrange classes with Rabbi Vechter. We bring him from Nachlas Har Chabad. It isn’t suited to everyone in the community, but a certain group—the more Torah-oriented people, kollel students, people with a Torah background and yeshiva students—come to the class. This past Gimmel Tammuz, we held a big farbrengen in our home, which is the Chabad House. Fifty people from the community attended, and Rabbi Yosef Hartman of Nachlas Har Chabad led the farbrengen. I must mention that Rabbi Hartman helps us a great deal with all our activities, because he has a history with this community. For decades, he was the rabbi of the regional high school, until the school closed. There are, of course, former students of his in the community, as well as teachers who worked with him, and through them he brings more people into contact with our Chabad House. At that farbrengen, we really saw the connection people have

2:46:45 Speaker 14 with the Rebbe. Besides what Rabbi Hartman and another local rabbi said, several people simply got up and told everyone stories about the Rebbe, each speaking about his own connection with the Rebbe. There were stories from before Gimmel Tammuz and after Gimmel Tammuz. Each person spoke about a connection of his own or his family’s. Everyone wanted to show how connected he was to the Rebbe. This year, during the holidays—second hakafos are held in many places around the country, but Simchas Beis Hashoeivah celebrations aren’t. The new neighborhood in this community has existed for fifteen years, and for the first time we held a big Simchas Beis Hashoeivah there, with an orchestra and a performer. About two hundred people from the community came, adults and children. There’s another thing that’s no less important: distributing reading material. Every week, we distribute two hundred copies of Sichat HaShavua in the community, to nearly every other home. We also distribute all the booklets produced by the yeshiva here in Kfar Chabad on Shabbos topics, booklets published by Rabbi Moshe Shilat, Dvar Malchus—all the booklets available for spreading the wellsprings and Chassidus. From time to time, I’m also invited to speak at various events: memorial gatherings, brissim, events held by residents, and in the shuls. There are five shuls in the community, and different people take turns giving divrei Torah. They’ve included me in that rotation, of course, so every so often I give a sicha, each time in a different shul. As for our plans for the future, with Hashem’s help—we’ve only been in the community seven months. With Hashem’s help, we’ll soon be opening a Tzivos Hashem club for children and a shul for young people. With Hashem’s help, starting this Rosh Chodesh there will also be Rosh Chodesh gatherings for women. And the big event we’re preparing for, which has particular significance in a community like this,

2:48:51 Speaker 14 on a broad scale, is 19 Kislev. With Hashem’s help, we’re planning a large event with Rabbi Druckman and the head of the regional council, who lives in our community. We also plan to open a children’s library of wholesome reading books. There is a library in the community, but unfortunately its books aren’t satisfactory. Today, there is a growing commitment among the religious-Zionist community, a trend toward wanting to become more strictly observant, as they say. I want to finish with two short examples, two stories that show just how strong the thirst is today for learning Chassidus and growing stronger in the service of Hashem. At the end of one of the classes, a regular participant, a yeshiva student from the community, came up to me. He wanted to talk. First he asked, “We just learned in the Tanya class that you have to eat for the sake of Heaven, that you mustn’t engage in idle talk, and all those things. I’m discouraged,” he told me. “Is it even possible to reach such a level? And if these things are impossible, why are we learning them? Why learn Tanya?” I answered him, and then he told me he would soon be moving to a yeshiva in Sderot and would really miss learning Chassidus, learning Tanya. He wanted to continue learning Chassidus there. That very evening, I called Rabbi Pizem, the shliach in Sderot, and put them in touch. They arranged to learn Chassidus together as chavrusas, and they’re still doing so today. That young man, by the way, also brought his brother and his father to the classes. They attend regularly, and now an entire family is drawing closer to Chassidus, to Chabad and to the Rebbe. The second story: before Rosh Hashanah, we organized a large Chassidus class in the community with Rabbi Vechter. Rabbi Vechter titled it “The True Avodah of Rosh Hashanah.” Thirty or forty people were there—young men and other residents of the community. As soon as the class ended, before I even had a chance

2:51:15 Speaker 14 to get up from my seat, the people themselves went over to Rabbi Vechter and arranged another class with him in honor of Yom Kippur. All these things show us how great the thirst is among the public today. All that’s needed is someone to go out, give them to drink, and spread the wellsprings outward. So, with Hashem’s help, may we soon merit the Rebbe’s revelation. As the Rebbe said on 10 Tishrei 5751—it’s recorded there from the audio of the sicha—the Rebbe said that bringing people back to teshuvah, so that the entire generation will be meritorious, belongs to someone else. But our task is to spread the wellsprings outward. A gutte voch.

2:52:07 Speaker 15 Without limitations, without limitations.

2:52:10 Speaker 16 Thank you, and yasher koach to the new shliach, the educator Rabbi Rafael Goldschmidt. Rabbi Rafael Goldschmidt is also numerically equivalent to “ufaratzta”—“you shall spread out.” So may you spread out in your shlichus, and yasher koach. The third shliach we’ll introduce represents a new kind of shlichus that has been developing in recent years. Sometimes we have this feeling, or this question: Is there anywhere left to go on shlichus? Every corner has been taken by one shliach or another. But in the end, when you step back and look at the bigger picture, you see that in a large city like Holon or Bat Yam, or another city, where there’s a head shliach, institutions, preschools and Chabad Houses, there are still neighborhoods where people don’t even know there’s a Chabad House in their city. Neighborhoods that could be a sizable town in their own right. So here is Rabbi Schneur Zalman Brod, who represents this kind of shliach. He was chosen to serve in the new neighborhoods of Netanya, a city well known for its many institutions, activities and shluchim. And yet the new neighborhoods of Ramat Poleg and Ir Yamim had no shliach. For three months now—nine months now—Reb Schneur Zalman Brod and his wife have been on shlichus there. Please welcome Rabbi Schneur Zalman Halevi Brod, the new shliach in Netanya.

2:54:00 Speaker 17 I want to share with you two small things that have happened to us since we went out on shlichus. But first, a little background about where we are. We went out nearly nine months ago, on 22 Shvat. In most places, we’re used to the northern neighborhoods being more affluent and the southern neighborhoods being poorer. In Netanya, it’s the other way around. The more affluent, upscale neighborhoods are in the south of the city, and we’re in two of them—perhaps the most affluent neighborhoods in the city. The residents are what’s called middle class and above. Around 3,500 families live in Ramat Poleg today. Alongside it, a new neighborhood is now being built, with luxury towers by the sea. At present it has only a few hundred residents, but the eventual goal is 4,000 families. To give you a sense of the people we work with: soon after we arrived, we got a fairly clear picture of the place. I haven’t encountered hostility where we are—at least I haven’t—but there is indifference, and plenty of it. These are well-off people who live in a world of their own, closed off, and it’s almost impossible to reach them. Quite a few people don’t walk around the neighborhood. The only route they know is from the house to the car in the parking lot, from there to work, and back again. You can’t even reach these people through the noticeboard, because they don’t pass by it. They have their own world, their own way of life. We were waiting for the first opportunity to make those people aware of us—in other words, for them at least to know that a Chabad House had opened here, that there was something here that hadn’t been here before. And the first opportunity came—

2:56:26 Speaker 17 three months after we went out on shlichus, as Lag BaOmer approached. We decided to hold a main event in the heart of the neighborhood. The goal we set ourselves was to reach beyond the religious and traditional circle. Sometimes you can enter that circle and forget there’s a large public still outside the picture. So the big challenge, at least in a place like ours, is to take that same old wine and pour it into a new vessel—to speak to people in contemporary language, in their language. If you want them to come to you, you have to connect with the language they speak. We invited Rabbi Shimon Rosenberg to the event. It wasn’t long after the tragic event involving the shluchim. We also invited Dr. Yechiel Harari, a man with an interesting life story who had traveled a long road to the world of Chassidus. We presented the evening in language suited to our audience. And of course, before anything else, I sat down and wrote to the Rebbe. For us, this was a kind of test: Would we manage to break through and get people’s attention, or would the indifference remain here forever? I wrote to the Rebbe at the outset and, of course, again shortly before the event. Still, I have to admit honestly that I was anxious. How many people would come, if anyone? How would the evening go? What would it look like? Even so, to give it a chance, we ordered 200 chairs. I told the bochurim who came to help us not to put them all out at once—who knew what would happen if they didn’t fill up? They should put them out gradually, as people arrived. Well, we scheduled the event for eight-thirty, and by eight o’clock people were already streaming in. The flow kept growing, and by eight-thirty the hall was full. Not a single chair was empty. People who arrived later had to stand along the sides. And for a long time afterward—

2:58:38 Speaker 17 we kept getting responses. It really made a tremendous kiddush Hashem for Lubavitch. One more little story that happened to us: as I mentioned, we have this new neighborhood that is only now beginning to fill up. It was important to us to open a shul there, to create a core group with which we could later approach the municipality and ask for a bit of land, and so on. Since the neighborhood was still under construction, we looked for a storage space, a trailer or something similar, but there was nothing. Then it occurred to me that perhaps we could hold Friday-night davening in one of the sales offices there. I went around and found a sales office that looked suitable and was relatively large. I approached the sales manager with the idea, and she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. A young fellow turns up and says, “Give me the place”—why should she? She put me off, saying, “We’ll see; let some time pass,” and so on. Some time passed, and I went back to her and proposed it again. She said, “You know what? I’ll leave the decision to the owners. Whatever they say, that’s what we’ll do.” This was Thursday evening. She told me, “I’ll meet with them on Sunday. You’ll have an answer on Sunday.” On Sunday the phone—Thursday evening, sorry, the phone rang. She said, “I went ahead and called them. Not only did they agree, they’re giving you the place. Come and make copies of the keys; the place is yours. You don’t have to pay anything or sign anything. The place is yours.” And boruch Hashem, the minyan is beginning to grow and take shape. But as Yom Kippur approached, we thought the space couldn’t hold very many people. Perhaps we needed to put up a tent for davening so there would be room for a larger crowd. And once again, the same—

3:00:25 Speaker 17 doubts came up: Would people come or not? What if, G-d forbid, it didn’t work out? But we had to do it. Of course, before that I wrote to the Rebbe again, and we set up a tent for davening near that place in the new neighborhood. It was full. At Ne’ilah, more than 250 people filled the space. These stories, and other similar things that happened to us—not that there weren’t disappointments, or things that didn’t work out. But perhaps these stories teach us this: in the haftorah we read for the parsha, the prophet sums it up in one sentence: “Do not be sparing with the empty vessels.” The Rebbe is with us; the Rebbe gives. We only need to provide the vessels.

3:01:13 Speaker 18 Thank you. Yasher koach to the shliach Rabbi Schneur Zalman Halevi Brod in Netanya. That makes three, and three is a chazakah. We send them and all the shluchim the blessing, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek”—be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened. Yasher koach. Ladies and gentlemen! Let’s now watch a segment from the interviews with security figures and key people about the Rebbe and the integrity of the Land of Israel. We’ll see part of an interview with Mr. Moshe Levi, a security figure who earned the title Hero of Israel. Let’s watch the interview and learn from his words. Moshe Levi in an interview with the Rebbe.

3:02:10 Speaker 19 Special Forces during the Yom Kippur War. The

3:02:41 Speaker 20 I got to Hadassah Hospital, and it took eight months to recover from all my wounds. Later, I came to get an artificial arm in 1975 or ’76—I think ’75. Yossi Ciechanover was the director of the Ministry of Defense, and he knew I was at NYU in the military hospital. He called me and said, “Look, the Rebbe heard about you, and he wants to meet you.” I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t known about the Rebbe before. I said, “I don’t have time to meet him.” He started laughing. “Moishe, people come from all over the world to meet the Rebbe, and you don’t have time? You have to meet him.” I said, “Okay. When?” He said, “You need to be at Chabad at eleven thirty at night, and he’ll meet you at midnight.” I said, “At eleven thirty at night, people don’t sleep?” He said, “Moishe, once you’re there, you’ll understand.” I said, “All right.” So I arrived at 770 in Brooklyn, and all the chassidim gathered around me, asking, “What did you do? What are you going to meet the Rebbe about?” I looked at them and didn’t understand what they wanted from me. At midnight, the Rebbe’s assistant came and took me into his room. I walked in. The room was, I think, four yards by four yards, very

3:04:54 Speaker 20 small. There was only a table, no paintings on the walls, books, and some water. There was a chair in front of him, and when I walked in, he asked me to move it closer and sit beside him. His assistant left. The Rebbe looked at me, and I tried to look at him, but I couldn’t. His eyes were so bright that I lowered my gaze. I’ve met prime ministers and presidents, and I’d never had a problem looking anyone in the eye. But then I understood that I was meeting a very, very special person. He started asking me questions about the war and what had happened. I told him the story, and he spoke to me as though he’d been there with me in the field. I said, “Rebbe, I want to tell you a story and ask you for an answer. In our unit of ninety-eight soldiers, we had only one religious guy, named Zendani, from Moshav Yinon. On the Shabbos after Yom Kippur, we were expecting a major Egyptian tank attack. The general came and said, ‘Moshe, you guys need to dig a line. There’s no one behind you to stop the tanks before Tel Aviv.’ I remember going out in front to set an example. I had a sergeant with me. We dug in, and all the soldiers dug in too. Then it was quiet. It was eleven thirty on Shabbos,

3:07:16 Speaker 20 and one of the guys in the back, named Avner, who later died, said, ‘Moshe, how are we going to stop the tanks with those rockets? Maybe we’ll be able to scratch the paint on them.’ While I was thinking, Zendani took a Tehillim in his hand, raised it, and said, ‘Guys, with this we’re going to stop the Egyptians.’ Everyone looked at him. It was hot, so our helmets were on the ground. He opened the Tehillim and started reading. I looked at all the soldiers, and every one of them picked up his helmet, put it on, and said, ‘Amen.’ They didn’t even know what he was reading. They didn’t know you’re not supposed to say ‘Amen’ when someone reads Tehillim, but they said it. At that moment, I told the sergeant, ‘Look, if I stay alive, I make a vow to put on tefillin every day for the rest of my life, because right now I feel very close to G-d.’ You know, hearing it as a story is one thing. Seeing it is on a completely different level. Then I stopped Zendani for a second, stood up out of the hole we’d dug, and said to all the soldiers, ‘Let me tell you something. When Avner asked how we were going to stop the tanks, I didn’t know. I was looking for an answer, and Zendani gave us one. We’re not here to protect

3:09:09 Speaker 20 Tel Aviv. We’re here to protect thousands of years of history. We’re here to protect our nation’s past, present, and future.’ The Egyptians started shooting and advancing, and Zendani[?] kept reading Tehillim. We destroyed many tanks, and the rest turned back. Zendani[?] was killed. So when I met the Rebbe, I said, ‘Look, the man who brought us back—in one moment, all of us believed in G-d. All of us trusted G-d. I said I would put on tefillin, but G-d took my arm. I can’t put on tefillin. And Zendani[?], who brought us all to that moment, was killed.’ The Rebbe looked at me. By then, I’d been with him for an hour and forty-five minutes, though it felt like five minutes. I still couldn’t look him in the eye. Every time I tried, even though I fought with myself and thought it was impossible that I couldn’t do it, I had to lower my gaze. The Rebbe looked at me and said, ‘It’s very simple. You told me that all of you were in a life-threatening situation.’ I said, ‘Correct.’ He said, ‘Zendani[?] gave his life. It makes no sense that ninety-eight people could fight a hundred and twenty tanks. All of you were supposed to die. But Zendani[?],’

3:11:08 Speaker 20 By reading Tehillim, he made all of you holy, and he sacrificed his life for you. That’s why he died.” He said, “But you were supposed to die too. The moment you made the neder, you formed a connection with G-d.” The truth is, before I met the Rebbe, I met all kinds of rabbis in Israel. When we were in the hospital, many rabbis came to visit the wounded. That question bothered me all the time, and I asked all of them, but none of them had an answer for me. The Rebbe had an answer, and for me it was a very good answer. It was a real answer to the real situation we were in. At the time, I didn’t have much confidence, having only one arm. I had been right-handed before. I asked him, “Rebbe, I have a question for you. Do you think I’ll make it in life? Will I be successful?” He looked at me and said, “Yes, you will be very, very successful.” And he was right about that too. That conversation was very, very emotional. But when we talked about the story I told him, about my feelings and everything, he was very gentle. He spoke softly and slowly. When we talked about giving up land, though, he spoke forcefully, in a very strong voice. So you could see the difference between when he was

3:13:07 Speaker 20 deeply moved and when he was speaking as a leader. And when he spoke as a leader, he sounded like a leader. The Rebbe knew every detail of what happened during the Yom Kippur War: what happened beforehand, how the attacks unfolded, what happened on the first day and the second day. I was amazed. I had been there, and he was talking about everything that happened. He knew why the Yom Kippur War began: the reserves had been called up twice, and the third time, they didn’t believe there would be a war. He said it was a big mistake for Sadat to attack on Yom Kippur. It’s the Jewish people’s holiest day. On the one hand, the Egyptian army was punished for preventing people from praying on Yom Kippur; they had to go to the army instead. But there was an advantage: the roads were all open, so the soldiers could get there very quickly. There was logic behind everything he said. He didn’t speak like a rabbi usually does, preaching. He was very intelligent. He spoke like a general, like someone with a doctorate in warfare. He understood the strategy—what happened and how it happened. The way he described it, it was as if he had been there. He didn’t miss anything, including my battle. He knew exactly what happened there. I remember he corrected me about a certain tank, and that

3:15:23 Speaker 20 gave me the feeling that he had been there with me. He knew every little detail. Even I wasn’t that precise, but he was very, very precise: where the forces were, where each division was. He was very upset that we hadn’t reached Cairo and Damascus. Not to occupy Cairo or Damascus, but to make a point: to show that we had the strength to enter and take control, even for one day, just to prove how strong our army was. He believed that the more land we held, the better our position would be in negotiations, and that strength would bring peace. Giving up land and yielding to other countries would show weakness and surrender. He said that every time we gave something up, it would put us in a position where we would have to give up more, and then more again, with no end to it. He was very, very upset when he spoke about that. And if we look back today, he was right again. The more we gave, the more they wanted. The Rebbe didn’t like our going to Washington to ask permission to do things. He said, “This is our land, as promised by G-d, and we don’t need anyone’s permission to be there.” So even though I was sitting there comfortably, I felt as if I were no longer connected to the ground. I was somewhere else. Everything in that room was so simple, yet so powerful. I remember visiting the Pentagon and going to see the deputy secretary of defense. You see all the flags and soldiers and guns, and pictures of admirals and generals. I was supposed to be impressed by all that, but I wasn’t. When I went in to see the Rebbe and saw how simply he lived—the table, with only water on it—that stayed with me. I thought about it for many years afterward. It was something very, very powerful. It was just him. Nothing like those one hour and forty-five minutes has ever happened to me again, from 1975 until now. That hour and forty-five minutes felt like five minutes. Neither the Rebbe nor I stopped the conversation. It stopped because his assistant came in. The funny thing is, there was only one door to the room, but when I stood up, I couldn’t figure out how to get out. I was so overwhelmed by that meeting that I couldn’t see straight. There was no doubt. When I walked in, I was completely out of it, and after I met the

3:17:29 Speaker 20 “You don’t need anybody’s permission to be there.” So even though I was sitting there relaxed, I felt disconnected from the ground. I was somewhere else. Everything in that room was so simple, yet so powerful. I remember going to the Pentagon to visit the deputy secretary of defense. You see all the flags, the soldiers, the guns, the pictures of admirals and generals—I was supposed to be impressed by all that. I wasn’t. But when I walked in to see the Rebbe and saw the simplicity of the room, the table with just water on it, that was something I thought about for many years afterward. It was very, very powerful. It was just him. That hour and forty-five minutes was unlike anything else in my life. From 1975 until now, nothing like it has ever happened again. That hour and forty-five minutes felt like five minutes. The conversation didn’t stop because of either me or the Rebbe. It stopped because his assistant came in. The funny thing is, there was only one door to the room, but when I stood up, I couldn’t find my way out. I was so amazed, so blinded by that meeting. There was no doubt. When I walked in, I was completely outside of all that, and after I met the

3:19:56 Speaker 20 Rebbe, I understood that he was very, very special, very, very knowledgeable. He was unique. When I met Yossi Chechanover, I said, “I’m ashamed. General.

3:20:37 Speaker 21 Yes, ladies and gentlemen, any words of response would pale in comparison, so we will leave these words as they have entered the hearts of each of us. While the orchestra gets ready, we will follow the Rebbe’s instructions, as he always writes in his letter to the convention concerning its resolutions. We will read the resolutions, and immediately afterward the choir will conclude with song, music, and joy. The resolutions: the fifth annual national convention of Chabad chassidim in our Holy Land. Kfar Chabad, Motzaei Shabbos Kodesh, 22 Cheshvan 5750. One: The convention calls on every Chabad chossid to strengthen the love and unity among us. As the well-known saying goes, the unity of chassidim will lead them to Moshiach Tzidkeinu. Two: The convention calls on every Chabad chossid to strengthen their study of Chassidus and their practice of the ways of Chassidus, and to fortify our homes so that they accord with the wishes of our holy Rebbeim. From them, Torah will go forth and bring the multitudes of the Jewish people closer to the light of Chassidus. Three: The convention calls for special emphasis on education, and for devoting all our energies to giving children and young people the attention they deserve, so that they do not, G-d forbid, wander off to foreign pastures. Four: The convention calls for strengthening the shlichus enterprise of the Rebbe, the leader of our generation. Every Chabad chossid is called upon to help at least one Chabad House throughout our Holy Land, with their own efforts, their money, and their whole heart—adopting that Chabad House and feeling part of it. All members of the Chabad community are also called upon to take responsibility for a particular area or place, so that they, too, will direct activities or serve as shluchim. Five: The convention raises an outcry over the deteriorating security situation and the government’s weak, submissive policy. The convention calls on members of the government to come to their senses, to stop entirely the policy of concessions, withdrawals, and negotiations with terrorists, and to adopt a firm, determined policy to fight the enemies of Israel and defeat them completely. Six: The convention lends its support to the shluchim in the communities of Judea, Samaria, and Gaza, which are now under the threat of a freeze that is stifling their development. The convention calls on Chabad

3:23:31 Speaker 21 chassidim to travel and visit the communities of Judea, Samaria, and Gaza. During the auspicious days of Kislev, G-d willing, chassidic farbrengens will be held in all those communities, to encourage and strengthen their spirits with the wellsprings of Chassidus. Seven: At auspicious times, G-d willing, special gatherings and prayers for children will also be held at the Western Wall, in accordance with the Rebbe’s instruction that gatherings and prayers of children help “silence the enemy and the avenger.” Eight: The convention calls on us to strengthen our commitment to the principal mission the Rebbe has entrusted to us: preparing ourselves and the world around us to greet Moshiach Tzidkeinu. We must strengthen the classes among us on Moshiach and Geulah, and also spread to the broader public the message that, just as all the Rebbe’s holy words will come to pass, so too will his prophecy of the imminent Geulah and the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu be fulfilled very soon. And a complete recovery for Irit bas Rivkah; Shlomo; also Liel HaLevi ben Miriam, Miriam bas Rachel, and Eliezer ben Rachel—a complete recovery. [unclear] Esther.

3:24:59 Speaker 22 The food center.

3:25:04 Speaker 21 Don’t forget the food center. Shir Hamaalos. Zimun.

3:25:22 Speaker 22 May it be Your will, may it be Your will, may it be Your will, may it be Your will.

3:25:42 Speaker 21 [unclear]. May the name of Hashem be blessed from now and forever. With the permission of our teacher and rabbi: Blessed is our G-d, of Whose food we have eaten. Blessed is our G-d, of Whose food we have eaten, and through Whose goodness we live.

3:25:56 Speaker 22 [unclear]. Oy, “And you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out westward and eastward and northward and southward.” Oy, “And you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out westward and eastward and northward and southward.” Oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward and northward and southward.” Oh, westward and eastward. Oh, northward and eastward. Oh, westward and eastward; oh, “And you shall spread out southward.” Hey, hey, “And you shall spread out”; oh, “And you shall spread out”; oh, “And you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out westward and eastward and northward and southward.” Westward and eastward and northward and southward, westward and eastward and northward and southward. Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, hey, “And you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out, and you shall spread out.” Westward and eastward and northward and southward, westward and eastward and northward and southward. Westward and eastward and northward and southward, westward and eastward and northward and southward. Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward

3:29:02 Speaker 22 and eastward.” Oh, oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Oh, oh, “And you shall spread out westward and eastward.” Westward and eastward and northward and southward, westward and eastward and northward and southward. Westward and eastward and northward and southward, westward and eastward and northward and southward. Who said in seventy we marching on, and to victory with song and gun. Who calls for we marching happily, nation after nation we are conquering. [unclear], Moshiach [unclear]. Forward with the gospel song, and we will be gospel strong. [unclear], Moshiach [unclear]. Ya, ya, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.

3:35:53 Speaker 24 Return, return. Satisfy us in the morning with Your kindness, and we will sing and rejoice all our days. Return, return. Satisfy us in the morning with Your kindness, and we will sing all our days. [unclear], rejoicing, rejoicing all our days. [unclear], oy, rejoicing, oy, rejoicing all our days. Let Your work be seen by Your servants, and Your splendor by their children. May the pleasantness of Hashem our G-d be upon us. Let Your work be seen by Your servants, and Your splendor by their children. May the pleasantness of Hashem our G-d be upon us. Establish the work of our hands for us; establish the work of our hands for us. Establish the work of our hands for us; establish the work of our hands for us. Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay. [unclear], oy, rejoicing, oy, rejoicing all our days. [unclear], and rejoicing, and rejoicing all our days. [unclear] the words of Malchus [unclear]. [unclear] the words of Malchus [unclear]. [unclear] the words of Malchus [unclear]. [unclear] the words of Malchus [unclear]. [unclear].