A Torah gathering on Chol HaMoed Pesach 5766, Kfar Chabad

00:00 The boundless sovev kol almin—the level that encompasses all worlds—is revealed and shines in the world in different ways. On each Yom Tov, sovev kol almin shines differently, in its own manner of revelation. Throughout the year, only a glimmer of it shines, within the limited order of spiritual descent. But on each Yom Tov, that particular revelation shines in its fullness. This is true of every Yom Tov. Take, for example, the Yom Tov closest to us: Purim. As we saw, a level of sovev, of the infinite, shines on Purim, and the infinite shines on Pesach too. But when we study these concepts, we can see the difference between the revelation of Purim and that of Pesach. As we mentioned, the revelation of Purim came as a result of the self-sacrifice of the Jewish people, who held firm throughout that entire year. This came from the yechidah of the soul. It was actual self-sacrifice. As the Alter Rebbe explains in Tanya, chapter 18, every Jew has the power of self-sacrifice from the yechidah of the soul, even the most spiritually lowly Jew, because it comes from the yechidah. The yechidah is present in every person in its entirety, and so every Jew will give up his life when put to the test. If so, on Purim there was a revelation of the yechidah. This also awakened and drew down from Above a revelation of the yechidah Above—sovev kol almin, a revelation of the Essence. The yechidah shines as it does when a person is tested and the yechidah of the soul is awakened in self-sacrifice. What happened on Pesach? Pesach is about the Exodus from Egypt; it is about faith. That is why we eat matzah: the Jewish people went out into the wilderness with faith. We eat matzah because matzah is especially associated with faith. Matzah is called michla d’mehemnusa, the food of faith. What is the faith of Pesach? As explained in the maamarim, it is like the teaching that a baby does not know how to call “Father” until he has tasted grain. As long as a baby is nursing milk,

02:58 he does not have the awareness or understanding to recognize his father. When he begins eating grain, flour, he gains a little understanding and awareness. He recognizes his father; he would not mistake someone else for him. He is attached to him and drawn to him, even though he cannot explain at all what “father” means, what a father is, or why this person is his father. Nevertheless, he recognizes him and is attached to him. This is faith, which is beyond reason and understanding. Matzah, too, is a form of grain. By eating matzah, we gain an awareness of G-dliness that is beyond reason and understanding. Even though we cannot comprehend or explain it, we have an awareness of G-dliness. This awareness beyond reason and understanding is the truest awareness of G-dliness. Why? Because G-dliness itself is truly beyond reason and understanding, for “no thought can grasp Him.” We cannot comprehend G-dliness; we cannot grasp what He is or how He is. So it is precisely this simple awareness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, without reason or understanding, that is the truest awareness of G-dliness. This is called mochin d’Abba, the intellectual faculty of Abba. Matzah is associated with mochin d’Abba: “A baby does not know how to call ‘Father.’” Abba refers to chochmah, in contrast to binah. Binah is the level of comprehension at which we can grasp something of G-dliness. We grasp the greatness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, His mercy and His kindness. That is something we can comprehend. But this comprehension does not grasp the true essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It grasps only how He extends into the world—how He bestows kindness, mercy, greatness and might in the world. That we can grasp. It is only His outward expression, and we grasp it through binah. That is comprehension. Abba, chochmah, is above binah, and through chochmah we grasp

05:34 specifically the level of “no thought can grasp Him.” Through chochmah we sense the truth that G-dliness is beyond comprehension. This is mochin d’Abba, which is faith. We connect to G-dliness in a way that goes beyond an intellectual connection. That is the idea of matzah, of mochin d’Abba, of michla d’mehemnusa. So here, too, throughout Pesach we see the theme of faith—a kind of connection to G-dliness that is beyond reason and understanding. This, too, is called something above the intellect. It is a matter of the infinite. But here the infinite connection already shines within mochin d’Abba. It is called mochin; it is internalized. It is as though I were saying: You sense and recognize this truth, that “no thought can grasp” Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It is indeed beyond comprehension, but there is already a vessel for it. You recognize it: as a Jew, you reflect and arrive at a genuine awareness that no thought can grasp Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and that everything we comprehend of His greatness is only a glimmer of Him, while He Himself cannot be grasped. You therefore arrive at a connection beyond reason and understanding. But you arrive at that connection within a vessel, in an internalized way, because you recognize this truth. That is different from the self-sacrifice of Purim, where the yechidah is revealed as it is in itself. Think, for example, of a Jew who gives up his life: even the most spiritually lowly Jew will give up his life to sanctify Hashem’s name. That is a revelation of the yechidah, but it is not internalized. It does not come through his awareness or his spiritual work. It comes from the soul itself. There is no inner change in this, and so, as the Rebbe explains there about the most spiritually lowly Jew, even

07:48 after he has given up his life, he remains the most spiritually lowly Jew. On Pesach, by contrast, we also see a level beyond reason and understanding. This, too, comes from the encompassing levels of the soul, but it shines within. It also shines in the intellectual faculties of Chabad, as an internal awareness. In other words, the encompassing level shines inwardly. So on Purim we have the revelation of the yechidah, the soul’s infinity as it is in itself, the yechidah in its own place, as in actual self-sacrifice. On Pesach the yechidah also shines, but as it is internalized within the intellectual faculties of Chabad. Which is higher? Clearly, each has an advantage. There is an advantage when the yechidah shines as it is in its own place. The infinite itself, as it is in the yechidah and in self-sacrifice, is the yechidah as it is in itself. There is a greater revelation here of the infinite, of the yechidah. On the other hand, there is an advantage specifically in the way it shines on Pesach: the encompassing level shines inwardly. It is more internalized and has a greater effect on the person. So each revelation has its advantage. These are two revelations, two ways in which the yechidah of the soul shines. Correspondingly, there are two ways the revelation from Above shines—the revelation of sovev Above, of the infinity Above. The infinity Above can shine as it is, infinite, or it can shine by becoming enclothed inwardly, with the encompassing level shining within. Each has its advantage. That is the difference between Purim and Pesach. So when we study the maamarim of Purim and learn that sovev kol almin shines on Purim, that a level above the order of spiritual descent shines there more than on any other Yom Tov, even Pesach—what does “more than Pesach” mean? Sovev kol almin also shines on Pesach; a level above the order of spiritual descent shines there too, doesn’t it? But the revelation spoken of in connection with Purim is one in which sovev shines as it is, the infinite

09:57 As it is—the yechidah of the soul as it is. In that sense, on Purim it shines more than on any other festival, more than on Pesach. On Pesach, that particular level does not shine. So Purim is unique in this respect, because of Sovev. Then we come to Pesach, and on Pesach too we learn about passing over and leaping—a leap that also transcends all limits. We also learn that on Pesach, Sovev is present in a way that surpasses all the other festivals. We just learned that Sovev shines on Purim too, but on Pesach Sovev shines inwardly, within the mochin of Chabad. There is no revelation of that kind on Purim. Pesach is unique in that revelation. So here is one example that lets us see a difference between the festivals. Sovev shines here, and Sovev shines there, but in each case it shines differently, and each festival is unique in its revelation. Let’s now expand on this a little, in more detail: the difference between the revelation of Sovev Kol Almin’s boundlessness on Pesach and the boundlessness that shines in the month of Tishrei, on Rosh Hashanah and throughout Tishrei. When we speak of our month of Tishrei, we learn maamarim about Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos, and Shemini Atzeres—quite a few maamarim. And when you learn them, you live with the meaning of those days. Rosh Hashanah is the building of malchus, drawing down malchus from its earliest source. Malchus is rooted at the very highest level of Atzilus, and the desire for kingship must be drawn down from its very first source, as it was at the first moment of creation. To draw down from... So when you learn the maamarim of Rosh Hashanah, it seems clear that Rosh Hashanah is the greatest festival. Rosh Hashanah, and Tishrei in general—these are the greatest days, the greatest festivals... There’s,

12:11 there’s simply no comparison to the month of Tishrei. But then, when we come to Pesach, Pesach is the greatest! So what is the difference? I want to understand the difference between Tishrei—Rosh Hashanah and the month of Tishrei as a whole, when the essence of the blessed Ein Sof shines, with all the extensive explanations of it—and the way it shines on Pesach. Well, here’s the point. Let’s see what we learn in the maamarim of Tishrei. Tishrei is a month full of festivals, a month sated with festivals, from Rosh Hashanah through Shemini Atzeres. And the festivals of Tishrei follow an orderly progression. First comes Rosh Hashanah. Rosh Hashanah awakens the desire for kingship within the very essence, through a Jew’s kabbolas ol from the essence of the soul. It is kabbolas ol from the essence of the soul—again, the yechidah, as we mentioned. That causes the essence, the essence of the blessed Ein Sof, to shine, awakening the desire for kingship. On Yom Kippur, the new desire and the new light awakened on Rosh Hashanah are already being drawn down. As it says in Tanya, it is a light that has never existed before. So on Yom Kippur, that light is already being drawn down, but it is drawn down above, on a lofty plane. This is reflected in the fact that the central service of Yom Kippur took place in the Holy of Holies, and that on Yom Kippur Jews are removed from physical concerns. In the Holy of Holies, too, the revelation is still being drawn down on a lofty plane. Then comes Sukkos, and it is drawn down below. That is why we sit in the sukkah and receive the very revelation drawn down on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. On Sukkos it is drawn down below. What the Kohen Gadol attains on Yom Kippur in the Holy of Holies, every Jew experiences on Sukkos, sitting in a sukkah at home, eating, drinking, and rejoicing with physical joy in this lofty, new revelation. So on Sukkos it has already

14:53 been drawn down below, but it is still an encompassing light. The sukkah’s s’chach represents an encompassing light. Then comes Shemini Atzeres. Atzeres has the sense of absorption. The new light, the new revelation awakened on Rosh Hashanah—a revelation from the essence of the Ein Sof, a light that has never existed before—is absorbed inwardly on Atzeres, within the soul and beyond. It is not merely encompassing; it is internalized. And precisely because of that, Simchas Torah comes the next day. That is the true joy, when something is absorbed within you. Then there is genuine joy. You become sated with it, and it fills you. So that is the sequence. What do we understand when we learn this whole progression through Tishrei? It seems clear that this is the ultimate perfection, the greatest, loftiest revelation. And what happened on Shemini Atzeres? On Atzeres, at the conclusion of Tishrei, that great revelation was absorbed inwardly. So it seems we have reached the completion and perfection of the whole matter. The loftiest light has been drawn down below and inwardly—the loftiest light. Atzeres means absorption. Fine, so what more is there? Isn’t this the perfection of it all—the complete drawing down, the complete revelation? What could be greater than the loftiest light being drawn down into a person’s inner being? That’s it. That is the conclusion, the completion and perfection of the matter. That is how we finish the month of Tishrei, with that understanding and that feeling. Then we come to Pesach and learn a point in Torah; we learn what the Rebbe Maharash explains about the seventh day of Pesach. The seventh day of Pesach was the Splitting of the Sea. The Splitting of the Sea, too, was a revelation that tore through all concealment, all the boundaries of seder hishtalshelus—a revelation of Sovev Kol Almin. Why? Why was Sovev Kol Almin needed? Why was such a lofty revelation needed at the Splitting of the Sea? What

17:33 happened? Granted, on the first day of Pesach there was the Exodus from Egypt. The Exodus is about leaping over; it is about transcending limits, of course. But what is it about the seventh day of Pesach that required the revelations of the Splitting of the Sea? What happened? The sea had to split too—a revelation from above that tore through every barrier, every boundary: Sovev Kol Almin. What happened on the seventh day of Pesach? He tells us something new. The seventh day of Pesach is the time when souls are born. It is the time of the soul’s birth. Souls are born on the seventh day of Pesach. What does the birth of souls mean? At their source, souls are in the world of Atzilus. In Atzilus they are in complete unity with G-dliness, on the level of ayin, but they must descend. A soul must descend into Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah; it must descend and become enclothed in a body. To be able to become enclothed in a body, the soul must acquire some degree of yesh, some sense of distinct existence. As ayin in Atzilus, it cannot connect with a body. There has to be some common ground. So the soul must descend into the worlds of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah, where it has some aspect of yesh. The soul’s descent from Atzilus into those worlds is like a transition from ayin to yesh. For such a transition to happen, a boundless power is needed to join ayin and yesh. There must be someone or something—a level beyond both ayin and yesh, beyond either extreme—that is boundless. That is why the revelation at the Splitting of the Sea was needed: the revelation of Sovev, a revelation that transcends all limits. It made possible the birth of souls, enabling a soul to descend from Atzilus into Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah, from ayin to yesh. And as we know regarding the creation of the worlds in general, the worlds come into being as yesh from ayin, and yesh from ayin is possible specifically through the power of Sovev

20:14 All worlds, as explained. Because creating something from nothing involves a connection between things that are utterly incomparable. From nothing to something is a leap beyond all proportion, so it requires an infinite power. Similarly, when it comes to the birth of souls, which is also something like creation from nothing, the power of sovev kol almin—the infinite power that transcends all worlds—is needed. This is the significance of the Splitting of the Sea. If the soul was in a state of... If the seventh day of Pesach is the time of the birth of souls, then clearly, before that, the soul was in a state of gestation. Where was it gestating? In Malchus, Malchus of Atzilus. This is gestation, like gestation in the physical world. The unborn child in its mother’s womb is being prepared. The time it spends in the womb prepares it to emerge into the world and to exist within it. It makes the child ready. So too, the soul’s gestation in Malchus prepares it to emerge afterward into the worlds of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah—to descend and become a distinct existence. That is the soul’s gestation. Gestation lasts seven months, so if the soul is born on the seventh day of Pesach, when does gestation begin? When does conception take place? Gestation begins on Shemini Atzeres. The word Atzeres implies absorption. Now, we said that one could argue about the exact calculation of these seven months: in a leap year it comes to seven months, and in an ordinary year it comes to six. All right, but the time is Shemini Atzeres. That’s when it happens. Gestation begins on Shemini Atzeres—Atzeres implies absorption. And suddenly a tremendous question arises. We’re studying a maamar about Pesach, and suddenly it opens up

22:38 an enormous question. An enormous question. Earlier, when we studied the maamarim of Tishrei and reached Shemini Atzeres—Atzeres implying absorption—what did we understand? That the revelation of Rosh Hashanah was already there. The revelation was already present. The loftiest revelation was already present on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur; afterward, on Sukkos, it came down, and on Shemini Atzeres it was absorbed inwardly. In other words, that was the culmination of the revelation. Everything was already there: the loftiest revelation. But suddenly, when we study Pesach, we discover in retrospect that the absorption on Shemini Atzeres was actually conception—the beginning of gestation. In other words, it was the start of the preparation for the revelation that would eventually come on the seventh day of Pesach: the birth of souls. What does that mean? What is going on here? Shemini Atzeres is only a preparation? But Atzeres implies absorption. The greatest flow of blessing is already there. The loftiest revelation, shining on Rosh Hashanah, is absorbed inwardly on Shemini Atzeres. That sounds like the completion and perfection of the whole process. Suddenly we find out that Shemini Atzeres is only the beginning of gestation, only a preparation. It is merely the absorption that starts gestation. So when will the revelation come? On the seventh day of Pesach, with the birth of souls. What does this mean? The answer is that both are true. When we’re speaking about the drawing down and revelation of the month of Tishrei, then yes: when we reach Shemini Atzeres, which implies absorption, the revelation of Tishrei reaches its full perfection. But the full perfection of one particular revelation, even at its highest point, is also only a beginning—a preparation, the start of gestation—for a different, higher revelation that will come on Pesach. So in relation to the revelation of Tishrei, it is

25:03 the culmination of the revelation, while it is only the preparation and beginning of the revelation that will come on the seventh day of Pesach. What does that mean? What is this revelation of Tishrei, which reaches its perfection on Shemini Atzeres yet is only a preparation for the seventh day of Pesach? It means exactly what it sounds like. Tishrei is the beginning of the year for the worlds. The whole purpose of Tishrei is to draw down a new will. Because everything returns to its original state, we have to draw down anew Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s will for the worlds, His will to reign. That is what Tishrei is about. All that is drawn down in Tishrei is exceedingly lofty. It concerns the very existence of the worlds, but it all relates to the worlds. That is the theme of Rosh Hashanah. In this process of drawing down, Tishrei brings it to its fullest perfection: the highest revelation, absorbed in the most inward way. Yet the entire revelation of Rosh Hashanah, for all its greatness, is only a preparation and introduction—the beginning of gestation—for the revelation that will come on the seventh day of Pesach. Pesach is specifically connected with the Jewish people, the souls of Israel: “Israel is My firstborn son.” The Exodus from Egypt concerns the Jewish people. That is why the seventh day of Pesach is the time of birth—not the birth of the worlds or of created beings, but the birth of souls. That is what Pesach is about: the birth of souls. Souls are on a more inward level than worlds, of course. Souls are like a child; that is a more inward relationship than the relationship to the worlds. So on Rosh Hashanah there was the complete revelation of the will for the worlds, and that reached its perfection in Tishrei. But all of it is only a preparation for the revelation that comes on the seventh day of Pesach—a more inward revelation, the birth of souls. So these really are two different things. Tishrei is the birth of the worlds of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah, and for

27:47 the birth of those worlds, too, the power of sovev kol almin, of the Essence itself, is needed. And on Pesach, the seventh day of Pesach, there is the birth of souls, which is a more inward matter. So we see the distinction. In Tishrei, we study maamarim that explain its unique greatness: the drawing down of sovev, of the Essence, an infinite revelation greater than on any other festival. Tishrei is Tishrei; nothing compares to it. Why? Because in the particular drawing down of Rosh Hashanah and the month of Tishrei, Tishrei is the head of the entire year—the head of everything. In the matter drawn down in Tishrei, an infinite revelation of sovev is drawn down in relation to the ten sefiros. Then comes Pesach, the seventh day of Pesach, and there too is a drawing down of sovev, an infinite revelation greater than on any other festival. But Pesach concerns the birth of souls, a far more inward matter. So each festival has its own aspect, its own kind of revelation. And in its own revelation, it is higher than all the other festivals. What we still need to understand is one point. At first glance, according to this explanation, the seventh day of Pesach—Pesach as a whole—is plainly higher than Tishrei. Tishrei relates more to the worlds, while Pesach relates to souls, which are higher. So once again, it seems that Pesach is higher overall. We need to say that each has its own advantage, because if you simply measure Rosh Hashanah and Tishrei against Pesach, Pesach comes out higher overall, since it concerns souls. We need to find a way to study the maamarim of Rosh Hashanah and still feel that on Rosh Hashanah

30:15 That is the highest. We need to find an advantage in what is drawn down on Rosh Hashanah compared with what is drawn down on Pesach. Perhaps there is also an advantage in what is drawn down on Pesach compared with Rosh Hashanah. That is why you can say of each holiday that it is the highest, in terms of the particular advantage of what is drawn down then. Although we understand that Tishrei is more external, because it relates to the worlds and their life-force, while Pesach relates to souls, which is loftier, we can still say that Tishrei has an advantage. We need to understand this point, and we’ll understand a little of it through an explanation of a somewhat different subject. I’ll explain, and we’ll get to the matter in Hemshech Samech Vav. Hemshech Samech Vav discusses the difference between will and pleasure. There is a whole discussion about which is higher, which is loftier. On the one hand, it explains that pleasure... Once we understand the distinction it makes between pleasure and will, we’ll be able to understand the difference in our case between what is bestowed in Tishrei, which relates to the worlds, and in Pesach, which relates to souls. First it explains the matter simply: We see that pleasure is higher than will, because pleasure generally gives rise to will. You want something you take pleasure in. If you take pleasure in a house, you want the house. If you take pleasure in a garment, you want the garment. If you take pleasure in an idea, in studying Torah, you want to study Torah, to study that idea. Pleasure gives rise to will. From this we understand that pleasure is above will. Pleasure is the source, while will is merely an extension of pleasure. Pleasure is the essential thing, the source, and will is only an extension of it, because will comes from pleasure. That’s

32:52 the straightforward understanding. And indeed, it says, “Nothing is higher than pleasure.” Pleasure is higher even than will. But that is only one side of the matter. On the other hand, we can bring examples and proofs of the opposite: that will gives rise to pleasure, or that will can remove pleasure. For example, there is a dream fast on Shabbos. One may not fast on Shabbos, but if someone had a bad dream on Friday night, and to remedy that dream he needs to fast that very day, then he wants to fast on Shabbos. So he is permitted to observe a dream fast on Shabbos. Why? After all, one may not cause oneself distress on Shabbos. There is a mitzvah to take pleasure in Shabbos; one may not cause oneself distress. But because this person had a bad dream and knows that the way to remedy it is specifically to fast, being forced to eat on Shabbos would cause him distress rather than pleasure. If he fasts on Shabbos, by contrast, it will remedy the bad dream and give him pleasure. So we tell him that he may fast on Shabbos. I would ask: On Shabbos, the mitzvah isn’t eating. The mitzvah on Shabbos is to take pleasure in it. We are commanded to eat on Shabbos because eating generally brings pleasure. Fasting brings distress, while food, eating, brings pleasure. But in his case, since he had a bad dream, it is the opposite for him. Food would cause him distress, so he is permitted to observe a dream fast. What do we see? This Jew has such a strong desire to remedy the matter that something which naturally brings pleasure instead becomes a source of distress for him. And fasting, which normally causes a person distress, because he wants to fast, because he wants to remedy the matter,

35:22 his will causes him to take pleasure in fasting. So will gives rise to pleasure. Will can take the pleasure out of something pleasurable and turn something distressing into a source of pleasure. Here we see that it is specifically will that has an effect and produces pleasure. If so, it would follow that will is higher, much higher, than pleasure. Will is the essence, while pleasure is an outcome and an extension of will. That is how it seems. And indeed, there is a saying: “Nothing stands in the way of will.” It doesn’t say, “Nothing stands in the way of pleasure.” No, there is no such saying. There is a saying, “Nothing stands in the way of will.” We see that will is stronger than pleasure. So there is a contradiction. It is a contradiction in what we observe: Sometimes pleasure gives rise to will, and at other times will gives rise to pleasure. There is also a contradiction between the sayings quoted in the books of Kabbalah, if not in earlier works. “Nothing stands in the way of will” is a saying of our Sages. On the one hand, it says, “Nothing is higher than pleasure”; on the other hand, it says, “Nothing stands in the way of will.” The maamar discusses the matter at length. What is its conclusion? That it isn’t right to compare pleasure and will by asking which is higher, as though one branches off from the other and gives rise to it—as though one is the essence, rooted in the soul, and the other is merely its extension. Rather, both are rooted in the soul at the same point, at the same level within the soul’s essence. Both pleasure and will are present in the soul; both are essential. Neither is an outcome of the other. Both are equally essential to the soul, both will and pleasure. Neither is an extension of the other; each is essential and has its own root in the soul at that same

37:51 point. Yet there is still a difference between them, arising from the very nature of pleasure and the nature of will. What is the difference? Within the soul itself, will is more external and pleasure is more internal. It isn’t a matter of higher and lower, of which is closer to the soul. Both are found in the essence of the soul, but within the soul itself, one is more external and the other more internal. What does that mean, and why is it so? It comes from the basic character and nature of these faculties. What is will, by its very nature? What is will? It simply means that you want something. You want a particular thing. What does it mean when I say I want something? It means I am drawn outward. I want a house, I want an idea, I want a niggun. You want something, and that something is outside yourself. Ratzon, will, is related to merutzah, running. You run toward something, you go toward something, you are drawn toward something. So will, by its very nature, is external. Pleasure, by contrast, is specifically internal. Even when you take pleasure in something—when you take pleasure in food or in an idea, you take pleasure in something—it means that the pleasure is within me: I feel good within myself. I take pleasure; I feel good. The food is only a means, some incidental, external thing that causes me to take pleasure. But the pleasure itself is that I feel good within myself. That is why pleasure is connected with rest. Shabbos is pleasure. Will is about running, about being stirred. You are drawn toward something; there is movement, noise, excitement. Pleasure, by contrast, is rest. It is the opposite: You feel satisfied, you feel good within yourself, you are at ease. So pleasure, by its very nature, is internal, while will, by its very nature, is external. So

40:16 Even at their first root in the soul itself, pleasure and desire are both found at the same point in the essence of the soul. But by their very nature, one is external and the other is internal. What does that mean? This is all while they are in the soul. So we understand that, within the soul itself, although both are at the same point, pleasure is more—not higher, since they are both at the same point—but more internal. In other words, it is more elevated. The very fact that it is internal makes it more elevated. Not because it is closer to or farther from the soul; no, both are at the same point. But in its essence, it is deeper, more internal. That is how they are at their source in the soul. Now what happens when these powers, pleasure and desire, emerge from the soul, extend from it, and become revealed? Something interesting happens here. Let’s look, for example, at desire. A person actually wants something. What does it mean when I say, “I want something”? It means that the power of desire that was in my soul has now come into action. It is active; it extends toward a house, a garment, wisdom, a matter of Torah—toward anything. The power has gone outward from the soul. So let’s examine desire when it goes outward from the soul. Has the entire power gone out, or only an extension of it? When it goes outward, does the power itself, as it exists in the soul, go out, or only an extension of it? What goes out? We will examine this with both pleasure and desire. That is, we will examine the relationship each of them has to its source once it actually extends beyond the soul. What is its relationship to its own source? What is the connection? What is the relationship of

42:52 desire as it exists outside to desire at its source in the soul? And the same with pleasure: what is the relationship of pleasure as it exists outside to its state in the soul? You might say that once the power has gone outward from the soul, it has moved away from its source. So it is no longer the power itself, only an extension of it, a ray of it—something faint, not the power itself. The power itself is in the soul. Once it goes out, it is like a student who leaves his teacher: he is no longer the student he was when he was with his teacher. There, he had his full strength and intensity; once he leaves, he is somewhat weakened. So we will examine pleasure and desire as they go beyond the soul. How much are they weakened compared with their original state in the soul? Let’s first examine desire. What would we say to desire? “You have gone beyond the soul. You have moved away from your source, so you have grown weaker. You are no longer desire in its full strength.” Why?

44:15 Why? “Why have I grown weaker? Because I left my source? But think for a moment,” desire would say. “What is my whole purpose? Even when I am at my source, in the soul, what is desire all about? We said that desire is essentially an external power. Its whole purpose is to be outside, to extend outward. So when I actually desire something specific, I do go out and extend toward something outside—but does that distance me from my true nature? Does it distance me from myself as I am at my source? That is my whole purpose. Going out and extending toward something is what desire is all about. So why say that I have grown weaker because I have moved away from my true nature? This is my true nature: to extend outward.” That is regarding desire. What about pleasure? When pleasure extends outward, is it weakened compared with its state at its source, or is it...? What would we say? “Yes, pleasure, your nature is internal. When you go outward, you move away from your true nature. You grow weaker. That is no longer you; it is an extension of you, a ray of you. It is not you, because your place is within.” Perhaps I can give a small example to illustrate the point. Say a person is discussing general matters with someone else—politics and things happening in the world. You have your opinions, your position, your views about elections and so on. You can stand there and speak with enthusiasm and conviction, with a great stir, influencing and persuading him. But when, for some reason, you need to explain something internal to another person—not just any topic, but something personal that truly matters to you—you will speak to him only with difficulty,

46:33 and when you do speak, you will speak quietly, slowly, with embarrassment and hesitation. Why? Where has all that intensity gone? Because this is something internal. Something internal belongs inside, and I have to bring it out. That is difficult; outside is not its place. So only an extension of it comes out. But when you speak about matters that are external to begin with, then on the contrary, their whole purpose is to go outward. The farther outward they go, the bigger the audience, the more forcefully you speak. So desire, whose nature from the outset is external, does not move away from its true nature when it goes outward. That is its true nature, and it comes out in full force. Pleasure, by contrast, is internal. Going outward is not its true nature, so it itself does not really come out—only an extension of it does. This gives us a distinction: when desire is outside, the desire that extends outward is desire itself; that is its essential nature. With pleasure, what goes outward is only an extension of it. So it seems that pleasure and desire reverse positions when they are outside. In the soul, we said that pleasure is more internal than desire and more elevated. When they go outward, desire has an advantage: desire outside is desire itself, while pleasure outside is only an extension of pleasure. At the same time, even when pleasure is outside and is indeed weaker, it remains more internal than desire. Pleasure is connected with... Although what goes out is only an extension, and it is not connected with its root as it exists in the soul, pleasure in the soul is internal. So pleasure is more internal than desire, but desire is stronger. That is why the expression is used:

49:01 Each one has an advantage. Pleasure, even as it exists outside, is more internal, because pleasure itself is internal, and even its extension is internal. That is why it is said, “There is nothing higher than pleasure.” Pleasure is more elevated.

00:05 We’ve seen that pleasure influences desire, but it cannot reverse it. Here’s the example we had: if you take pleasure in a house, you’ll want a house. If you don’t take pleasure in it, you won’t want it. We haven’t seen an example of pleasure taking something you do want and making you not want it. But with desire acting on pleasure, we did see that. What was the example? You want to fast. Eating is something you naturally enjoy, but your desire overrides that pleasure. It even does the opposite: it brings pleasure to something that isn’t naturally pleasurable—the fast. Desire has the power to change pleasure. That’s because desire is stronger, while pleasure is more elevated. In short, pleasure is more elevated because it is more inward; there is nothing higher than pleasure. But desire is stronger. Nothing stands in the way of desire, so it has the power to change pleasure. That is what is explained about pleasure and desire. And we understand that although both are expressions of the essence of the soul—very lofty expressions—each emerges in a different way, and each has its own advantage. One is more inward; the other has greater force. Through this we can understand the subject we began discussing, Tishrei and Pesach. Tishrei concerns the life-force. It is indeed a drawing forth from the essence itself, an unlimited drawing forth, from the very highest level—but all of that concerns the outer dimension. Pesach concerns the birth of souls in general, which is higher. But “higher” doesn’t mean that there is an order in which souls come first because they are closer to the source, to the essence itself, and afterward comes the life-force, the desire for worlds. As we explained with the example of pleasure and desire—

02:35 Both come from the same source. Neither comes before the other, but one is outer and the other inward. So too with Tishrei and the life-force: what is drawn forth is the desire from the essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, [unclear]. It is a drawing forth from the highest source. You can’t say that what is drawn forth on Tishrei is only some second-stage level, rather than the first. No, it too comes from the essence itself, just as desire comes from the essence of the soul. Still, there is a more inward pleasure, and that is the pleasure associated with souls. So it is with the worlds: the connection to them is more outward. It is a matter of desire—Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s desire for the worlds, His desire for kingship, His desire for worlds. Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s pleasure is bound up with souls. Souls are an inward delight, like a father’s delight in his son. Hakadosh Boruch Hu takes pleasure in souls. Tishrei, then, draws forth more of the dimension of desire, and desire too comes from the essence itself, the highest level. On Pesach, with the birth of souls, we draw forth more of the dimension of pleasure: Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s delight in souls. That is why the avodah of Tishrei relates to desire. It is more an avodah of awe, of being a servant. The avodah of Pesach concerns Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s delight in the souls of Israel, so it is an avodah of love. And as explained, although joy is not explicitly mentioned with regard to Pesach, it is the greatest joy. This joy gives us the strength to serve Hashem with joy and love, until we reach true and complete joy—

04:43 in the true Geulah.

00:00 Speaker 1 Moadim l’simchah. As usual at a Torah gathering on Chol Hamoed, we try to examine points in the Rebbe’s service and conduct that also relate to the Alter Rebbe’s approach in the Shulchan Aruch. This is our Torah; we need to study it, discuss it, and try to understand it as much as we can. It is our life and the length of our days. I was reminded of this already last Motzaei Shabbos, in connection with the Seder night. The custom is for the Seder plate to be placed before the head of the household, near him. We read the Haggadah and then wash our hands. The head of the household has two whole matzos before him, with a broken piece in the middle. The Alter Rebbe writes in his siddur—and the Rebbe explains this further in the Haggadah—that when he recites Hamotzi, he must hold all three matzos in his hands: the two whole ones and the half. After he finishes Hamotzi, he lets the bottom matzah slip from his hand and recites Al Achilas Matzah over the top matzah and the broken piece. Then he takes a kezayis from each and eats them. We won’t go into why he does that right now. The Rebbe explains in the Haggadah that the Alter Rebbe’s Shulchan Aruch cites two opinions, because on Pesach night a person is actually obligated in two things. Every Shabbos and Yom Tov, one must eat lechem mishneh: take two matzos, two loaves of bread, recite Hamotzi Lechem Min Ha’aretz, break one and taste it. That is the order for a Shabbos or Yom Tov meal. But on Pesach there is something new: one must eat from a broken piece of matzah. Why? Because it is called lechem oni, poor man’s bread. A poor person cannot afford to eat from a whole loaf, so he eats from a piece, leaving some of it to eat each night. And so, on Pesach night, we conduct ourselves in a manner

02:56 Speaker 1 of poverty. Lechem oni means poor man’s bread. The Gemara gives three interpretations. One of them, in Pesachim, is: “Just as a poor person’s way is to eat from a broken piece, so here too, from a broken piece.” As we’re explaining it now, this means that a poor person eats and tastes from a piece. He cannot afford a whole loaf, so he eats from a piece. Therefore, on Pesach night we have two obligations. On the one hand, it is Yom Tov, so we need lechem mishneh—which means two whole loaves. On the other hand, it says lechem oni, and a poor person’s way is to eat from a broken piece. There is, in fact, a major disagreement about this between the Rif and the Rambam, on one side, and the later Rishonim on the other. According to the Rif, there is no obligation on Pesach night to have lechem mishneh in the usual form. Instead, from the outset a person must take one matzah and half a matzah, and that is the lechem mishneh. Although on every other festival, on Shabbos and Yom Tov, one must recite the blessing over two whole loaves, on Pesach night the Torah introduces something new with lechem oni: it reduces the requirement. That is the Rif’s wording—the Torah reduced it and said: whereas on every Shabbos or Yom Tov night you fulfill your obligation with two, on Pesach night you fulfill it with one and a half. That is what lechem mishneh means here. So that is what the Rif says: the Torah specified one and a half. That is the Rif’s interpretation. But the Rosh and other Rishonim disagree with the Rif. In their view, that is not correct. Both opinions are cited in Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim, section 475. The Rosh disagrees and says: True, there is a requirement of lechem oni, and one must eat from a broken piece, but that is separate from the mitzvah of lechem mishneh. As the Alter Rebbe puts it, what does lechem oni come to add to lechem mishneh? In other words, because it is Yom Tov, I must take

05:08 Speaker 1 two whole matzos. And lechem oni? I need to take another half-piece. So it follows that on Pesach night a person needs two and a half matzos and must recite the blessings over two and a half. According to the Rif, he recites the blessings over one and a half; according to the Rosh, over two and a half. That is one disagreement. So how do we rule? The Alter Rebbe rules as a matter of halachah—and here it is clear that the halachah follows the Rosh, not the Rif. The Alter Rebbe says that one should not follow the Rif, but only the Rosh, and should take two and a half matzos on Pesach night. Now, this requirement of two and a half matzos gave rise to another disagreement among the Rishonim. I recite Hamotzi, and I recite Al Achilas Matzah. Over which matzah do I recite Hamotzi? And over which do I recite Al Achilas Matzah? According to the Rosh, whom we mentioned earlier, a person is obligated in lechem mishneh on Yom Tov and also on Pesach night, so he needs two whole matzos. But the Torah also taught us that we need one more piece, another broken piece, another half-matzah. The Rosh says this means that, when I recite the two blessings—first Hamotzi Lechem Min Ha’aretz and then Al Achilas Matzah—I recite Hamotzi over a whole matzah. I take two whole matzos and recite Hamotzi Lechem Min Ha’aretz, because Hamotzi is said over whole loaves, as on every Yom Tov. Then I recite Al Achilas Matzah over the broken piece. In other words, Hamotzi is over the whole matzah, and Al Achilas Matzah is over the broken piece. That is the Rosh’s approach. Other authorities—the Rashbam, Tosafos and the Vilna Gaon, as the Rebbe notes—understand it in precisely the opposite way. They say: The Rosh is right that two and a half matzos are needed, but the order of the blessings is different. When you recite Hamotzi, you recite it over the broken piece; you recite

07:05 Speaker 1 Al Achilas Matzah over the whole matzah. Why? Because for the mitzvah of eating matzah, an important matzah should be whole. That is how the Levush explains it. In any event, we won’t go into the reasoning behind this disagreement right now. So how do we conduct ourselves? The Alter Rebbe writes in his siddur, and the Rebbe explains it in the Haggadah, that since there are now two opinions as to which matzah the blessing of Al Achilas Matzah is said over—the whole one or the broken piece—when we begin, before reciting the blessings, we hold them all in our hands, including the half-matzah. Because either way—after all, I recite Hamotzi over the whole matzos. But there is something else here: a difference between the siddur and the Shulchan Aruch. I don’t want to go into it right now; I only want to mention it, because this is where we see the Rebbe’s practice. In the Shulchan Aruch, the Alter Rebbe follows the approach that when one recites Hamotzi on Pesach night—and we said that Hamotzi is over the whole matzos—one does not touch the broken piece. One holds the two whole matzos, with the broken piece in the middle. That is his wording. He changes the wording of the Magen Avraham and says that one holds the two whole matzos while the broken piece is in the middle. On a straightforward reading, that makes sense. Why? Because Hamotzi applies to the whole matzah. In the siddur, he changes the wording, and this is also how the Rebbe conducted himself at the Seder. The wording in the siddur indicates that when one holds the matzos, one holds all three. It is not that one holds the two whole matzos with the half in the middle; rather, one must have a hold on each one. That is also what the Rebbe did: he placed his fingers between all three matzos. What is the reason for this? Why did he change it? Why did he change it between the Shulchan Aruch and the siddur? Perhaps we’ll still have time to clarify that later. But in any event,

09:02 Speaker 1 As it relates to our discussion, it comes out that in practice he makes two blessings. After that he makes the blessing over eating matzah. So he lets the bottom matzah drop and makes the blessing, while holding both of the others in his hand. Why? The Rebbe explains: we said there is a disagreement between the Rosh and the Gaon of Mainz[?] about which matzah the blessing over eating matzah applies to—the whole one or the broken one. The same question arises, in the first instance, with the blessing of Hamotzi: does it apply to the whole matzah or the broken one? That is why he holds both when he makes the blessing over eating matzah. Likewise, he holds all the matzos when he makes Hamotzi. So we see something seemingly very interesting: on Pesach night there is the matter of making a blessing over matzah, making the blessing over eating matzah, making a blessing over a broken piece, making a blessing over... There is a doubt, a disagreement about what the blessing applies to—the whole one, the broken one, or both together. And there is the matter of holding them: the head of the household holds them. What do all the people seated around him do? Do they sit and watch the head of the household put on a performance—holding the broken matzah, letting it drop, holding it again? What is their role here? Are they obligated or not? What obligation does the head of the household have, and what obligation do the family members have? After all, what is the law here? The Seder plate with the three matzos is beside the head of the household. I want to preface this by explaining why these matters are not so clear. Why do so many people struggle with them and not know the answer? With any matter, with any halachah, it helps to know a little of its history. When you do not know the history, you can sometimes struggle with simple things, bang your head against the wall and ask questions. Without that knowledge, that history, a lot of difficulties naturally arise. As was customary,

11:07 Speaker 1 at any rate among Ashkenazim, in the days of the Rishonim and perhaps earlier, in the days of the Geonim, they would make three matzos from one isaron of flour. The practice for Seder night was to take an isaron—roughly a kilo and three... a kilo, a kilo and a quarter, the amount requiring challah to be separated: a kilo, a kilo and a quarter, a kilo and a half of flour—and bake three matzos, three loaves, from it. Each loaf weighed about four hundred, four hundred and twenty grams. Not a pita—it was bread. We will get to that in a moment. It had something like the shape of a loaf, and they would mark it. There is an entire section about this in Shulchan Aruch, section 458: what the procedure was, how they would bake them... Ideally, they would mark them A, B and C. The first had greater sanctity, because there was the top matzah, the middle matzah, and so on. That was the practice. Why did they bake the matzos in that form? There are several reasons; Yalkut Yosef also explains this. There are several reasons—that is one of them, you should know. In any case, it was not that each person had his own. If someone had more means, or a man had five sons, did each one bake three meals’ worth? That was not the custom. Ideally, each family took an isaron of flour, baked three matzos from it, and used those three matzos for Seder night.

12:36 Speaker 2 The whole family.

12:36 Speaker 1 The whole family together. And what was the procedure? This will help us understand the Alter Rebbe’s wording in section 473. How was the Seder conducted? Those three matzos were beside the head of the household. There were only three matzos. It was not as though there were more matzos in a package by the table that one could take. Those were the three matzos for Seder night. Then the head of the household would recite the Haggadah aloud, and the members of the household would fulfill their obligation to recite it by listening to him, under the principle that listening is like reciting. And when we look closely at the wording of the halachos in Shulchan Aruch, in ten places in the laws of Pesach, it is clear—it necessarily follows—that it is describing that procedure. That is how it was in the days when the Shulchan Aruch was written. There are many halachos there. In fact, this is one of the difficulties: the later authorities who comment on the Shulchan Aruch followed its description without explaining how it relates to our custom. But that is how it was in practice. He writes this in section 458, where he explains all the details. Then, in sections 472 and 473, he explains that the head of the household distributes matzah to everyone at the table. Later he explains that he distributes a kezayis of the afikoman to each of them. Where are there enough kezaysim for that? Where is there that much matzah? The answer is simple: that was the practice. It was as the Tur wrote in one place, and a number of halachos become clear in light of it. The practical circumstances behind these halachos become clear once we know that the matzos were large and thick. How thick? When problems with these matzos began to arise, even the Beis Hillel, who lived a hundred years before the Alter Rebbe, wrote that one should take care with them and make thin matzos. But what did “thin matzos” mean? He wrote that they should be a fingerbreadth thick, not a tefach. According to Shulchan Aruch, a matzah may be as thick as

14:34 Speaker 1 a tefach. He said to make it a fingerbreadth thick instead of a tefach. And according to his calculation there, eight—eight such matzos fit into an isaron, in one oven. So even at a fingerbreadth thick, with four hundred grams of dough, the matzah would be about twenty, twenty or thirty centimeters, or thirty centimeters across, [unclear], and a fingerbreadth thick. But what was the problem with these matzos? I wrote about this in Kfar Chabad last year. The problem with them—and we see it in practice—is that you can bake them only shortly before the Seder, keep them for a few hours and then eat them. By the next day you can no longer eat them; they would break your teeth. They are literally as hard as iron, impossible to eat. But that really was the custom, and Shulchan Aruch records it: to bake matzos every day. They baked matzos each day. In section 458, the Alter Rebbe began to rule against this custom of baking matzos during Pesach. Although the Pri Chadash permitted it, the Alter Rebbe disagreed and said not to bake matzos during Pesach. And in section 458, the Alter Rebbe also included in his discussion that one should try to make thin matzos. He does not explain how thin they are or what “thin” means, but apparently, because of concern about all these issues, people had already begun moving away from the custom of baking three large matzos, three large loaves that would suffice for the whole household, and had begun making thin matzos instead. So much so that in his responsa, the Alter Rebbe writes that for some twenty years already the custom had spread—[unclear]—to bake matzos quickly and make them thin. So apparently, in the days of the Maggid, or a little before him, this whole practice of making

16:29 Speaker 1 very thin matzos began, mainly in Poland. In other countries, among Sephardim, they apparently continued for years afterward to make thick matzos like pitas. But in Poland and Russia... What? What are you saying? Still today? Yes, even today they have returned to it, and now they are returning to it. So the Alter Rebbe praises these thin, crisp matzos: because they are thin and crisp, there was no need to bake throughout Pesach. He says it was enough to bake on Erev Pesach. On the other hand, the matzos were small. Once they were small, there was not enough in them for the members of the household. Consequently, the Shulchan Aruch does not tell us—I am going back just to explain this—the Alter Rebbe’s Shulchan Aruch does not tell us how we should conduct ourselves in that situation. Why? Because this whole custom of these matzos began mainly after the Shulchan Aruch had already been written. Admittedly, in his Siddur he hints at it somewhat when he speaks of distributing a kezayis to the members of the household, but the main points are not... So, on the one hand, we see that even with our matzos, the thin matzos, there is a mitzvah, as we explained earlier, as the Alter Rebbe writes in his Siddur. And the Rebbe makes clear the importance of holding the matzos—holding the top matzah, the bottom one and the middle one during the blessing. So what about the members of the household? What do they do? They do not hold them; do they have to hold them? The children are therefore... But there are women, there are... This whole practice of each person having his own Seder plate with his own three matzos may also have begun only in recent years. As I remember, it was not like that in the past either.

18:16 Speaker 1 There was such a thing. Even bachurim didn’t have one—perhaps it wasn’t so feasible—they didn’t have their own Seder plate. Only after marriage. A married man already had a Seder plate of his own, but bachurim used their father’s plate, even though a son after bar mitzvah, whether twenty or twenty-two, is obligated in all the laws and practices of Seder night just like his father. So what was going on here? How did it start? What? What did you say? In any case—huh? What, what? In every—like—fine, all right. So seemingly one could say it is like lechem mishneh every Shabbos: the head of the household gives each person a crumb, a piece of matzah. But here, too, the question arises: bli ayin hara, if there is a large family, he has to start distributing it to each person. The head of the household needs to hurry and eat his kezayis of matzah and his kezayis of maror. Should the family wait until he finishes—until he finishes both kezaysim—and only then have him distribute it to each person, or should he stop in the middle? So what should he do? In any case, some people have a practice. Some—huh? Just, just, just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, just a moment. Some write—some write in the name of a certain sefer that this really is how one should conduct oneself: the head of the household should distribute from his own matzos to each person. So again, if he needs to distribute from his own matzos so that they fulfill the obligation of eating a kezayis of matzah, he must give each one a kezayis. Less than a kezayis does not fulfill their obligation. So where are there enough kezaysim in our matzos? Rather, some say that when the head of the household arranges the Seder plate, he should take additional packages of matzah, additional pieces of matzah, and put them inside his own bag—that is, inside the cloth. And some people have the practice,

20:13 Speaker 1 Some people have the practice of giving each person a crumb. That crumb can fulfill their obligation of lechem mishneh. But how do they fulfill their obligation to eat a kezayis of matzah? You might say they eat a kezayis from their own matzah. But we have seen that one needs to hold the two matzos, and that the blessing and the kezayis are connected with these two matzos. Why? It is not only because the blessing must be over either the whole matzah or the broken one. So are the members of the household not obligated in this? With this whole procedure—that he must make the blessing over both and hold both—do the members of the household, for some reason, not need to do it? Do all these laws not apply to them? That is why I thought, in my humble opinion, to suggest something. Perhaps it may seem—I have not found an explicit source for it, but seemingly one can understand it this way from the Rebbe’s words. The Alter Rebbe says in section 473, paragraph 24: “All these items”—meaning the matzah, maror, and charoses—“need only be brought before the person reciting the Haggadah.” They need only be brought before the one reciting the Haggadah, namely the head of the household, and the members of the household fulfill their obligation by listening to him. They fulfill their obligation regarding the Haggadah by listening, because “in the multitude of people is the King’s glory,” and one who listens is considered as one who recites. Huh? And one who listens is considered as one who recites. “But the members of the household do not need to have these items before them, either while listening to the Haggadah or during the meal, for the head of the household distributes matzah, maror, and charoses to each person.” In other words, they do not need to have them there; it is enough that the head of the household distributes matzah, maror, and charoses to them. “For although on Yom Tov one must break bread over lechem mishneh, nevertheless, since they fulfill their obligation through the blessing and the breaking of bread by the head of the household, they also fulfill their obligation through his lechem mishneh.” The Alter Rebbe raises a question about what he said,

22:12 Speaker 1 That each person does not need to have matzah before him; it is enough for it to be before the head of the household. But every Yom Tov requires lechem mishneh. So how do they fulfill their obligation? He says that just as the head of the household fulfills their obligation with the blessing of Hamotzi, he also fulfills their obligation of lechem mishneh. There is something seemingly puzzling here. There appears to be a contradiction between section 473 and section 274. Section 274 says that if the head of the household fulfills the obligation of lechem mishneh for those at the table, there is a rule: those at the table may not taste the bread until the head of the household has tasted it. On every Shabbos, if those at the table rely on his lechem mishneh—that is, each person does not have lechem mishneh before him—they fulfill their obligation by hearing him make the blessing of Hamotzi over lechem mishneh and eating from that same lechem mishneh. In other words, how do the members of the household fulfill their obligation of lechem mishneh every Shabbos? After all, each one does not have lechem mishneh before him. The Alter Rebbe says: by hearing the blessing from the head of the household and eating from that lechem mishneh, they fulfill their obligation of lechem mishneh. The Rebbe comes and explains this. He cites the Eishel Avraham of Buchach: on every Shabbos, the practice with Kiddush is that the head of the household makes Kiddush, everyone listens to the Kiddush and the blessing over the wine, and they taste it. They make no blessing themselves. But with lechem mishneh, the Rebbe says, it is not like that. With lechem mishneh, the practice is for each person to make his own blessing of Hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz rather than fulfill his obligation through the other person’s blessing. Why? Because sometimes there is an interruption. But one still needs lechem mishneh, the Rebbe says. And the Rebbe says even more: even if those at the table have not yet washed their hands, if they hear the blessing and afterward eat from the lechem mishneh, then he fulfills their obligation

24:33 Speaker 1 Through his breaking of the lechem mishneh. That is how the Rebbe explains it, and that is the practice every Shabbos. In other words, it is explicit here that to fulfill the obligation of lechem mishneh, the members of the household need to taste from the lechem mishneh. The question arises, and this is how we understand it: the head of the household makes Hamotzi—that is the straightforward way of it. The head of the household makes Hamotzi, breaks the bread, and distributes to each person some bread from the lechem mishneh. Granted, each person makes his own blessing of Hamotzi, but they eat from that lechem mishneh. The Rebbe only adds that even if they have not yet washed their hands, if they heard the blessing before washing, they are included in his breaking of the bread—but they eat from the lechem mishneh. So seemingly, tasting from the lechem mishneh is a fundamental, essential part of fulfilling the obligation of lechem mishneh on Shabbos. Just a moment, just a moment, just a moment. What? What? Not yet; we will not go into the details right now. Let’s speak generally, and afterward we will get into the details. There may be many practical differences, but first, let’s understand the matter as a whole. Afterward we will get into the details, the required amounts and so on, and less than the required amount. This matter of tasting from the lechem mishneh is not mentioned by the Alter Rebbe in section 473. He says only one thing: they hear the blessing and fulfill their obligation through the head of the household. So seemingly one can derive from this two ways of defining the obligation of lechem mishneh. Two ways of defining it. How—that is, how do those at the table fulfill their obligation of lechem mishneh? One possibility is that they fulfill their obligation through the blessing: they intend to fulfill it by listening, under the principle that one who listens is considered as one who recites, and thus they fulfill their obligation regarding the blessing. And then, since—in other words, let me put it this way: we learned from the verse that one must make the blessing of Hamotzi over lechem mishneh. That is how the blessing over the breaking of bread is made. So if

26:47 Speaker 1 The listener hears the blessing recited over the breaking of lechem mishneh and intends to fulfill his obligation through that blessing, then he has already fulfilled his obligation to make a blessing over lechem mishneh. He does not need to break the bread himself, nor does he need to taste it. It is enough for the head of the household to taste from that lechem mishneh. After all, we are sharing one meal. Yes, everyone is eating together at the same table. So if he has fulfilled his obligation through the blessing of Hamotzi recited over lechem mishneh, and the lechem mishneh has been tasted, then he does not need to taste it himself. He can then eat from his own bread. But what is the law? He may not taste anything before the person who broke the bread tastes it, because that is the order of the meal. Or there is another possibility: each person makes his own blessing of Hamotzi. He does not fulfill his obligation through the head of the household’s blessing of Hamotzi; rather, each makes his own blessing. But if he hears the blessing, the Rebbe says, and sees the bread being broken, and afterward tastes from the bread, he too is included in the lechem mishneh and can make his own blessing. In other words, we have two ways to fulfill the obligation of lechem mishneh. One possibility is to fulfill the entire obligation regarding the blessing through the head of the household from the outset. Then, when he eats, he makes no blessing, because his blessing is the one that was recited over actual lechem mishneh. When the blessing was recited over lechem mishneh, there is no requirement for him to taste it. Moreover, there is a very interesting Rokeach. The Rokeach says that regarding tasting from lechem mishneh, [unclear] it is like Kiddush and [unclear]. What is the law if a person made Kiddush? A person made Kiddush over wine, over a cup. Yes? Strictly speaking, it is enough for the person who made Kiddush to drink a cheekful. There is [unclear].

28:43 Speaker 1 So that everyone tastes some, but that is not essential. It is not a fundamental part of fulfilling the obligation of Kiddush; it is simply something that applies to all of us. So why should lechem mishneh be different? In fact, lechem mishneh is different. If he fulfills his obligation for the blessing from the outset through the head of the household’s Hamotzi over lechem mishneh, and does not recite a blessing himself, then he is relying on that blessing. Since that blessing was recited over lechem mishneh, he does not also have to taste from it afterward. He can even eat from a different loaf. The requirement is that the blessing be recited over lechem mishneh. But if he recites the blessing himself and only wants to fulfill the obligation of lechem mishneh through the head of the household’s loaves, then he must taste some. Otherwise, what connection does he have to that lechem mishneh? In other words, the Rebbe is not coming to change the Shulchan Aruch, but to add that what it says there can also be done in this way. So throughout the year we follow what the Rebbe says: the head of the household certainly recites Hamotzi, each person then recites it for himself, and afterward each person tastes from the lechem mishneh.

30:02 Speaker 3 Why not drink it?

30:03 Speaker 1 Wait. So this is what the Rebbe says: the practice is generally not to do that because of the interruption while he distributes it to everyone. So that is what the Rebbe says; that is the custom. It is not like Kiddush, where he recites the blessings and fulfills everyone’s obligation with all of them. With lechem mishneh, the custom is for each person to recite the blessing over the matzah for himself afterward. All right, in any case, we will not get into that now. The Rebbe writes that this is the custom. It is a well-known letter—

30:31 Speaker 3 He is exempt from that because he fulfills the obligation as well.

30:36 Speaker 1 Where? Where?

30:36 Speaker 3 In his book.

30:37 Speaker 1 Wait, wait, wait, wait. We will get to that shortly. Where? With tefillin? Wait, just a moment. So what follows? It follows, according to this—just a moment, just a moment—that on Pesach night, let us think about it: if the head of the household fulfills the household members’ obligation for Hamotzi and the blessing over eating matzah, and they fulfill their obligation for the blessings through him rather than each reciting them individually, then they do not need their own lechem mishneh. That is what the Alter Rebbe is saying here. Since he fulfills their obligation for the blessing of Al Achilas Matzah and for Hamotzi, he also fulfills their obligation for lechem mishneh. So each person does not need lechem mishneh of his own, because the blessing was recited over lechem mishneh. Ah, you will ask me, where does this come from if the Rebbe writes that—

31:28 Speaker 3 Which blessing is he required to recite over the food?

31:31 Speaker 1 Just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, just a moment. Let me finish. So you will ask me: where am I getting this from? If the Rebbe writes that the custom is for each person to recite a blessing over lechem mishneh, how can I suddenly say that on Pesach night they should do otherwise? I think we can learn this from a teaching of the Rebbe himself. In the Haggadah, on the blessing Al Achilas Matzah, the Rebbe writes: “Al Achilas Matzah,” and not “Le’echol Matzah.” Is that only—what does he write—sorry, in Migdal Oz, in the laws of blessings. What does Migdal Oz say? Migdal Oz writes that Pesach night is different from the entire rest of the year. On Pesach night, the custom is to do everything as a group. Just as the Pesach offering was eaten as a group, so everything is done as a group. Consequently, this also applies to eating matzah and eating maror. Migdal Oz states the principle: when a person performs a mitzvah for himself and for others, reciting the blessing for himself and for others, the wording of the blessing is “al.” “Al Achilas Matzah” means—why not “Le’echol Matzah”? After all, one is obligated to eat matzah. Rather, it refers to the eating of the matzah taking place now at the table: we all fulfill our obligation through the single blessing I recite over the matzah. That is the meaning of “Al Achilas Matzah.” I am now fulfilling everyone’s obligation with this blessing. The same applies to Al Achilas Maror and to Al Biur Chametz. This is a very—no, we will not get into that now. All the blessings connected with Pesach are worded in a way that reflects a group, with one person fulfilling the others’ obligation. Why? This comes from the Pesach offering, because they tried to do everything as a group. The Rebbe himself cites this. In other words, if we follow this approach, it comes out like this: the blessing of Al Achilas Matzah—each person would recite it

33:21 Speaker 1 for himself. And the blessing of Hamotzi—no, the other way around: they would fulfill their obligation for Al Achilas Matzah through him, and each person would recite—“Ashreichem—” This would become a mess. Presumably, we should say that they also fulfill their obligation for the mitzvah blessing through the head of the household. He fulfills everyone’s obligation for that blessing too, the blessing of Al Achilas Matzah. And what do we gain from this? First, they fulfill the obligation even if they do not have lechem mishneh. What is more, not only do they not need lechem mishneh themselves, they do not even have to taste from the head of the household’s lechem mishneh. If they hear the head of the household’s blessing, which was recited over lechem mishneh, and have pieces of matzah ready for themselves and then eat them, they have fulfilled the obligation of lechem mishneh. And there is more. We said earlier that there is a disagreement about which matzah he recites the blessing of Al Achilas Matzah over: the whole matzah, the broken matzah, or whether he has to break from both of them. And what did you ask earlier? You need what? A kezayis, a kezayis for eating matzah. Correct. He does not have to eat that kezayis from the matzos on the Seder plate. He can eat from other matzos. The main thing is that he fulfills his obligation through the blessing recited over lechem mishneh, or recited over the breaking of the kezayis of matzah. And with that breaking, the moment the head of the household... There is a principle stated by the Alter Rebbe, and it is worth knowing. The Alter Rebbe says something new. Just a moment. The Alter Rebbe says something new, and I think the later authorities did not take note of it. But in a few words, he defines a principle that can revolutionize many, many halachos. In section 182, the Alter Rebbe puts it this way: there is a requirement for a cup of blessing when a person must

35:21 Speaker 1 recite a blessing—this is brought in Beis Shmuel—over a cup of wine. There is a disagreement about whether Birchas Hamazon requires a cup when recited by an individual, or only when recited by three or ten people. The Alter Rebbe says this: even if we say that Birchas Hamazon requires a cup for an individual—an individual—and they recite it with a zimun... How was a zimun done in the past? One person would recite the blessings, and everyone would listen, either through the first blessing or through all three of the first blessings. They would listen to the blessings and answer amen. The Alter Rebbe says: even if we say that Birchas Hamazon requires a cup for an individual, when they recite it with a zimun—that is, one person leads the zimun and fulfills everyone’s obligation—they do not each need a cup. One cup is enough for all three. But if there are two people—because one person can fulfill the others’ obligation through a zimun only when there are three; with two, one cannot fulfill the other’s obligation, and each must recite Birchas Hamazon for himself—then each of the two needs his own cup. Why? What is the reasoning? Let us continue. If each person needs a cup, what difference is there between three people and two? The Alter Rebbe says: just as he fulfills their obligation for Birchas Hamazon, he also fulfills their obligation for the cup. When there are three of us, he fulfills my obligation by reciting Birchas Hamazon, and in the same way he fulfills my obligation to have a cup for Birchas Hamazon. But with two, when I cannot fulfill my obligation for Birchas Hamazon through him, I cannot fulfill the obligation for the cup alone through him. In other words, the principle here is that when a person fulfills his obligation for a blessing through someone else, it is not only the obligation for the blessing that he fulfills; he also fulfills

37:23 Speaker 1 Everything implied by the blessing, everything that has to be done along with it. For example, bentching requires a cup. So if I fulfill my obligation to bentch through someone else, I also fulfill the obligation to bentch over a cup. The same applies if I say that the bread must be broken from the broken piece because matzah is “the poor man’s bread.” We said that, according to the Rosh, because it is the poor man’s bread, the kezayis of matzah must be eaten from a broken piece. Over what should the blessing on that kezayis of matzah be recited? Over a broken piece. One should break off a piece from it, because a poor person’s way is to break bread from a broken piece. So when the head of the household recites this blessing, he breaks off a piece from the broken matzah. Just as I fulfill my obligation for the blessing over eating matzah through him, I also fulfill the requirement to eat matzah from the broken piece, and the requirement to break off a piece from it. All the actions connected with the way the head of the household eats—once the members of the household fulfill their obligation for the blessing through him, it isn’t just that they’ve fulfilled the obligation to recite a blessing, as though that simply exempts them from having to say it themselves. They fulfill it with the entire order of things, with its full force. And yet we see that the Jewish custom—and custom is Torah—is that people were not particular about having the members of the household do all these things, even in the strictest homes. Why? What is the reasoning? In the past, when matzos were large, fine, you could say all of that. But then matzos started getting smaller. I think, though, that as we’ll see from these points in Rabbi Trebel’s [?] approach, if they fulfill the obligation for the blessing through him, they don’t need to. They also fulfill the obligation for the blessing over—no, the blessing over a broken piece, breaking off a piece from it, breaking bread over two loaves, and all these things. It’s enough that the head of the household does it and fulfills their obligation for them, and then their own eating can

39:11 Speaker 1 be a separate kezayis. And I said this by way of introduction—I said this by way of introduction—because it couldn’t have been written explicitly: the entire Shulchan Aruch is based on the arrangement they had in the past, with three large matzos, when all the members of the household would eat from large matzos, so none of these problems arose. But things have changed, and my soul came down into this world in this generation. So I want to suggest something new. If someone doesn’t like it... What did you ask earlier? Wait, wait, thank you.