A women's gathering in honor of those returning from the month of Tishrei in 770

00:01 Speaker 1 In one of the sichos, the Rebbe explains that it was precisely this descent that brought about the ascent afterward. The descent was part of that ascent, and it set it in motion. The ascent that followed was that Avraham came up from Egypt with possessions, with abundant livestock, gold, and silver. Another point we can learn from this relates to “the deeds of the fathers are a sign for the children.” The deeds of the fathers are not merely a sign for the children; they are exactly what will happen to the children. They do not just indicate how the children will behave. What happened to the fathers must happen to the children. And if it was so with Avraham Avinu, it was likewise so with the Jewish people before they received the Torah. To reach the highest ascent, the highest level, they had to descend to Egypt. They went down to Egypt, and that descent seemingly looked like a real descent, but it was part of the ascent that followed. They, too, came up from Egypt with livestock, silver, and gold, as Avraham Avinu had. So the first point we have learned from Lech Lecha is, quite simply, an ascent from strength to strength. And not only that: when, G-d forbid, an individual or the community as a whole experiences a descent, we can know with certainty that this very descent need not discourage us, G-d forbid. Rather, it is part of the ascent we are destined to make, with Hashem’s help, immediately afterward. Another point we learn specifically from the week of Parshas Lech Lecha is joy, as stated in Hayom Yom. Compared with the weeks in which we read Parshas Bereishis and Parshas Noach, the week of Parshas Lech Lecha is the most joyous. In Parshas Bereishis, the week ends—the parsha ends—with the event in which Hashem found comfort after Noach was born and began to stir his generation. In the week of Parshas Noach, we have

02:05 Speaker 1 the Flood throughout the parsha, but at the end of the parsha Avraham Avinu is born and begins to spread light in the world. Parshas Lech Lecha is different. Every day, through the daily Chitas reading, we live with Avraham Avinu, and so we can say that this is the first truly joyous week. As the Rebbe says, just as we draw joy from Simchas Torah into the entire year, so Shabbos Parshas Lech Lecha brings joy to all the Shabbosos of the year. The last part of our date is the year 5748, “tismach”—“rejoice”—which is connected with the joy we have already mentioned and with the year of Hakhel. Regarding the year of Hakhel and Hakhel gatherings, as we heard at the farbrengen on 3 Tishrei, what we must do throughout the year, reporting each month, and so on—we will hear from Rabbi Greenwald, who was with the Rebbe shlita and heard it firsthand. He will explain exactly what we must do.

03:06 Speaker 2 Gatherings—as many gatherings as possible. The Rebbe asks for them, instructs us to hold them, and appeals for them in every possible way. He asks that men, women, and children participate and gather, with the emphasis that the men gather separately, the women separately, and the children separately. And the plain meaning of the verse tells us the ultimate purpose. What should this gathering bring about? Fear of Hashem—to reach a state of yiras Shamayim. When the Beis Hamikdash stood, this was done literally. People gathered after the seventh year, a year devoted entirely to spiritual matters. There is no plowing, harvesting, or sowing, so people are free for spiritual work and pursuits. Today, too, whether the obligation is from the Torah or rabbinic, the concept of resting in the seventh year certainly exists, particularly in the Holy Land. Afterward, they gathered “in the place that Hashem your G-d will choose,” at the Beis Hamikdash in Jerusalem. There the king read from a Torah scroll, reading from the book of Devarim: “You shall read this Torah.” This brought yiras Shamayim not only at the moment people heard it, but for the long term—as the Torah says, until the next gathering seven years later. That reading strengthened their yiras Shamayim. The Rebbe shlita comes and says: We cannot institute new customs, because after the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash it was not customary to make a remembrance of Hakhel, as the Sages did for many other mitzvos in remembrance of the Beis Hamikdash. But what does the plain meaning of the Torah tell us? What is the purpose of the entire Hakhel gathering? To fear Hashem. So we must make every effort for people to gather, with the goal of increasing yiras Shamayim. What was the situation when the Beis Hamikdash stood? There was a Beis Hamikdash, and perhaps the expression “our disadvantage is our advantage” applies here. It was not possible to gather anywhere else, only in the Beis Hamikdash. But because of our sins we were exiled from our land, and the physical Beis Hamikdash was destroyed; it is no longer here. So regarding “They shall make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell within it,” the verse does not say “within it,” but “within them”—within each and every person. We therefore have a sanctuary within each of us, even

06:15 Speaker 2 a single individual, a Jew on their own—if there is such a thing as a Jew on their own. But the Baal Shem Tov says—and if today we need to gather in the Beis Hamikdash, there is a miniature sanctuary: the shul. In recent times, the Rebbe has wanted every home to be a Chabad House, every room in the home to be a Chabad House, and every corner of every room to be a Chabad House. What is the plan? That every corner, every place, should be holy; that everywhere there should be a corner of holiness with sefarim there. There should be a tzedakah box there, for tzedakah is great because it brings the Geulah closer. And he built homes, sanctuaries, across the entire globe called Chabad Houses. Whether with men, women, children, or even a baby girl in her cradle: in addition to the Shir Hamaalos placed by her, there should be sefarim or other things that bring holiness. So no one should say, G-d forbid—and may the Beis Hamikdash be built speedily in our days—but at this moment, as for what Hakadosh Boruch Hu asks us to do, every place, every corner, wherever a Jewish soul is found, has the possibility and the power of a Beis Hamikdash. And when the Beis Hamikdash stood, there had to be a king. There is one king for all the Jewish people. Now that there is no king, all Jews are the children of kings. Every Jew therefore needs to—must feel, and it is the truth, “I am the child of a king; I am the daughter of a queen. Hakadosh Boruch Hu has made me royalty and asks me to proclaim Him King, so that all who dwell on earth will recognize and know that every knee will bend to You.” This power has been given to every Jew. And to gather people around this idea—every woman, everyone who belongs to the Jewish people is royalty, literally. So they can read from the Torah, and the Torah was given to everyone, including women. Women have a portion of Torah to study for the sake of study. A woman is not obligated in that, but

09:03 Speaker 2 she is obligated to observe practical mitzvos, and this includes all of Chassidus, because Chassidus deals with faith in Hashem. A woman is obligated to believe in Hashem just as a man is. There have been many sichos about this, and the Rebbe returns to it from time to time. Many, many years ago, when a grandmother told a mother something, the mother accepted it; and when the mother told her daughter, the daughter accepted it without questioning or investigating. “That is how I received it from my mother, and how my mother received it from hers.” Today, outside influences enter through even the narrow crack in the door. Children ask questions, and questions are thrown at them, and mothers and grandmothers have to answer. So we need—the Hakadosh Boruch Hu has provided remedies for today’s afflictions through the power of Torah and the power of Chassidus: studying Torah, observing Torah, and delving into its different parts. If only every woman would study all the laws of Shabbos, because on Shabbos men and women are equal. In everything concerning faith, men and women are equal. The same is true of yiras Shamayim. So each of us—when people came to the Beis Hamikdash, the men came to learn and the women to hear. Men have an obligation to study for the sake of study. To hear means to understand. To hear means to understand and fulfill; it means to accept what is said. The Talmud says, “I have not heard it,” meaning, “I do not accept it.” When I say that something “sounds right to me,” it means I accept it. And why do the children come? It says, “Gather the men, the women, and the children.” The men come to learn and the women to hear; and the children include actual infants, nursing babies. They too must be brought, to bring a reward to those who bring them. And in the plain sense, what does the Rebbe want from us? Anyone who can gather people—if you are a head of state, a mayor, or hold a prominent public position, make an effort to gather people. And what will they do? They will speak and learn about fearing Hashem, to strengthen yiras Shamayim. Someone with a smaller circle,

11:30 Speaker 2 Whoever has a shul, whoever has a classroom, whoever has a home, can gather people together—and the Rebbe said: Even someone who has no one to gather, and there are people who are alone, can be a king, gather himself, strengthen himself and learn. From time to time during this year, the year of Hakhel, he should place greater emphasis on yiras Shamayim. That is the goal. In any case, as is clear from the Rebbe’s sichos, there wasn’t a single sicha from the time I arrived, or among those I heard firsthand on the subject—before Rosh Hashanah, on Rosh Hashanah, then on Shabbos Shuvah and Erev Yom Kippur—in which the Rebbe did not connect the subject at hand with Hakhel. At every opportunity, at every hour, in every place, on every topic, in every parsha, in every matter, the Rebbe connects this power with Hakhel. How shall I put it? I have a story for Motzaei Shabbos. I may not have it exactly right; I can’t vouch for it one hundred percent. But in any case, this is what I was told and what I read. May we never know such troubles. Nowadays, when someone needs surgery, if possible they’re given a sedative pill or injection beforehand. It’s a kind of drug that relieves the tension of fear and anxiety, and the body’s tightening up, so the person feels more comfortable. A woman, a Polish non-Jew living in Warsaw or near Warsaw, needed some kind of surgery, and they injected her with this substance. During an operation there is an anesthesiologist, and to avoid problems in a serious operation, nowadays there are video cameras recording all the time. Afterward they review the video and check what was done right and what was not. There is also a tape recorder. All the surgeon’s instructions are recorded, so if someone later says, “Did I say that or didn’t I?” they can reconstruct what happened and learn from it. Everything is captured. The anesthesiologist, who was responsible for keeping her anesthetized, noticed that the woman was speaking while in a drug-induced trance, but he couldn’t understand her. So he asked the doctors, “Does anyone understand what

13:51 Speaker 2 she’s saying?” Nobody did. Well, it wasn’t the time to sit and listen to her. But the tape recorder recorded everything. After she recovered and the operation was over, they asked her, “Do you know any languages besides Polish?” “No, only Polish.” “Anything else at all?” “No.” They played the recording of this language for her. “Have you ever heard it? Have you ever spoken anything like it?” “I don’t know what it is. No, I have no idea.” But it was a language. Did anyone understand it? Nobody. They went to a prominent professor at the university, an expert in languages and all sorts of subjects, and played the recording for him. He said, “Yes, of course that’s a language. It’s Aramaic.” Aramaic—that was already interesting. What had she said in Aramaic? Passages from the Zohar. Master of the Universe! How did passages from the Zohar reach a Polish non-Jewish woman in an operating room? But they played it again and again. Yes, they were passages from the Zohar. Now they began investigating how this woman—and over there they don’t put things down to trances or anything of the sort. There had to be some medical or natural explanation. They began looking into her entire past. What had happened? When she was a baby, a little girl, her mother had worked as a servant in the home of a Jewish rabbi. They had given her a basement room where she slept; she had her own living space. The winters were very cold, and even with the heating in her room, it was cold. But in the rabbi’s room, they would get up before dawn and stoke the stove again, and it was very warm and pleasant there. So they laid the little one down to sleep there. What harm could she do? Now, when they brought her into that room at night, she felt warm and comfortable in the pleasant air. And this rabbi would get up at midnight, recite Tikkun Chatzos, and chant in a melody: “Rabbi Shimon opened and said...” It was a monotonous tune for a passage of

15:52 Speaker 2 the Zohar recited at the beginning of Tikkun Chatzos. And when the trance had to take effect—to relieve tension and bring back some pleasant feeling, some sense of a time when she had felt good—it stirred that memory. It brought her back to a state in which she had felt so comfortable and content that, throughout her life, she hadn’t even known she had heard that language. But it had been absorbed; it was etched into her memory, etched into her soul, without her understanding it as an infant. Yet the feeling had been so good, so pleasant, that it had affected her and stayed with her. Why am I telling this story? Sometimes people say, “It doesn’t affect me. They’ve already told that story. Did I read it? Didn’t I read it? I don’t...” So if even ordinary words of Torah can do that, who knows what effect words of Torah have when a Jew reads them in a column and tells them to children? And don’t think, “What does a little child understand? What will he remember?” I ask a child a week later, “Do you remember anything?” He says, “No, never in my life.” That’s what she said too. She could have sworn, and perhaps she did swear, that she had never heard it. She hadn’t heard it consciously; her soul had heard it. And she was a non-Jew, from the three utterly impure kelipos, which contain no good at all. But she was a human being, and “G-d made man in His image.” A human being has these capacities. Nothing that enters the mind is erased. Nothing the eye records is erased. You cannot erase it. So there are moments, there are times, that have a special quality. And the Torah says that in the year of Hakhel, after the festival of Sukkos, all Israel is to come “to appear before Hashem in the place that He will choose.” “You shall read this Torah in their hearing.” There is an effect, a reality, a result: that reading is etched in and preserved, and it has a special power to bring one to fear Hashem. Precisely during “the time of our rejoicing,” precisely on Sukkos, when joy is at its height—that is when we speak about fear, about yiras Shamayim.

17:54 Speaker 2 At first glance, this should have been said in Elul, during the Days of Awe. It’s true that there are Days of Awe. It’s true that there are days of fear, of dread of judgment. The Gemara asks whether to recite Hallel on Rosh Hashanah. It says: The books of life and the books of the opposite are open—can you sing now? Can you dance? Do you already know what will happen to you? Nevertheless, we saw this year too, with the Rebbe shlita, that even on Rosh Hashanah there was an element of “rejoice with trembling.” There is trembling, there is fear, there is dread of judgment. But at the same time, it says that Jews must wear clean clothes for Rosh Hashanah. One should wear festive clothes, though not quite as festive as on the three pilgrimage festivals, for it is a holy day. Even on Yom Kippur, when there is no eating or drinking, care is taken to honor and beautify the day. How do you dress? How do you make yourself presentable? How can you act as though you already know you will come through it? That is the strength of the Jewish people: they are confident that they will prevail in judgment. But these are days of judgment. They are called the Days of Awe. Afterward come the days of Sukkos. So when all Israel comes, precisely on Sukkos, that is when one can absorb it. What is more encompassing than a sukkah? What is special about the sukkah? It says that all Israel are fit to sit in one sukkah. Why all Israel? This is one of the mitzvos that surrounds a person from head to foot, body and legs, boots, mud, clothes and all. Your entire being enters the sukkah. And the Arizal says, as quoted in the Alter Rebbe’s Likkutei Torah: “His left hand is under my head”—these are Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, associated with the left side, with fear and awe. “And His right hand embraces me”—these are the days of Sukkos, when the sukkah embraces a person, surrounds him and takes in his entire being

20:15 Speaker 2 Into the joy of the sukkah. There is a hint in this: They say that ideally, a sukkah should have four walls. If four walls are not possible, then three walls. If three walls are not possible, you can make one complete wall of seven handbreadths and another wall of seven handbreadths. During the waving of the lulav, the Rebbe held on to it. Now, during Hallel you cannot interrupt, but everyone was saying, “Nu, nu.” Usually, the Rebbe would take only the esrog during the waving and then put it on his lectern. And that year, afterward, there were already photographs of it... It is already recorded in the summaries of the farbrengens, or in the farbrengens themselves. The Rebbe later explained that it was not just a coincidence. Since it was a year of Hakhel, he wanted, in practice, to keep them together: throughout Hallel and all the Hoshanos, he did not let go of the lulav and esrog together, because they encompass all types of Jews. This is a strength given from Above, and the actions of a tzaddik here below. He explained at length that although for years this had not been the practice, and there might even be a reason not to do it, there is a time and an instruction from Above when we must bind and unite. Not just give speeches—the whole point of this gathering now is to accomplish something. There are people who are hungry and people who are thirsty, and no woman should think that she needs someone else. I saw today in the Chumash—and anyone who has the Beis Yehuda Chumashim at home or in shul, those who read Yiddish, knows how rich its translation of Rashi and its selections are—that Hakadosh Boruch Hu said to Avraham, “As for Sarai your wife, you shall no longer call her Sarai; call her Sarah.” What is the difference between Sarai, with a yud, and Sarah? There are two kinds of women. There is a woman who, in her own right, has no royal standing, but if she marries a king, then automatically she becomes a queen. And there is a woman

22:28 Speaker 2 who is herself a king’s daughter, a princess. She comes with a standing of her own; she was someone even before she married the king. Now she is something more. So at first, Avraham Avinu thought of her as Sarai—“my princess.” He was the prince, and she was attached to him. Hakadosh Boruch Hu told him: Now that she is to give birth to Yitzchak, she will no longer be called Sarai. She is Sarah; she stands on her own merits. And every Jewish woman, as a daughter of Sarah, Rivkah, Leah, and the others, is a queen in her own right. She does not need to be attached to someone else. And when many candles come together, the light certainly grows stronger. But, G-d forbid, do not belittle yourself and say, “I am a little candle, a tiny spark. What can I possibly do against the darkness and gloom?” Outside, there is a situation with no light, no radiance, and no joy. And we know—I said this a few days ago, and it is written in many sefarim—that perhaps non-Jews can live by their own laws. A Jew either lives by the Torah, and then he has what is meant by “light”; and if there is light, joy, gladness, and honor, as we just said, so may it be for us. There is light, there is gladness, there is joy. “For the Jews there was light”—this is Torah; “joy” is Yom Tov; “gladness” is circumcision; and “honor” is tefillin. These are not just sayings. They are fundamental truths: where there is light, there is Torah. Take a Jew’s Torah away from him, and he may still seem alive for a while. It is like cutting a branch from a tree: it is still green, it may even have fruit and a few flowers. But if it remains in that state, it does not die only after a few years. It dies the moment the pruning shears or the saw cuts it off. If they were to put it back—there was someone here who bought eucalyptus trees for his yard in Ramla

24:33 Speaker 2 and began using them to make a fence around the yard. Some of them started to grow. Why? What do you mean, why? That is the nature of a tree. When it is strong and still has vitality inside, and you put it into good soil near the cowshed, then of course, if it still has a little life in it, it puts down roots again and grows anew. Leave it as it is, and it dries out. That is a Jew. If he has roots, “But you who cleave to Hashem your G-d are all alive today.” If, G-d forbid, he has been severed, he is still a little green. You do not notice it right away. But someone with a sharp eye will look closely and see: there is nothing there. I look for roots; there are no roots, nothing at all. And when, G-d forbid, a branch has been cut from the tree, if you put it back in the ground, all you need to do is give it a cup of water, a little sunshine, something to strengthen and encourage it. There are people who come closer and want to come closer. Sometimes I, a seemingly small person, can do a great deal. It does not take much. “If you have learned much Torah, do not take credit for yourself.” How much is “much Torah”? How can a person say, “I have learned a lot of Torah”? The Torah is wider than the sea; it is infinite. If a person lives—

25:54 Speaker 3 the Torah, to greet Moshiach.

25:56 Speaker 2 Chassidim, may we merit this very soon, in our days, amen, so may it be.

26:03 Speaker 3 We have just heard what the Rebbe’s instruction was. Later, toward the end of the program, each woman should come up here to the table. The Hakhel forms were here. Each woman needs to fill in her name, her details, and what she undertakes to do. With Hashem’s help, when reports about this program are sent to the Rebbe, reports about each woman will be sent along with them through Tzeirei Agudas Chabad. So during the program, please come here and fill out the forms. We will now continue with the program. Is Mrs. Leah Banker[?] here? Is Mrs. Jacobs here?

00:02 Speaker 1 It’s a little unfair to call on someone when she hasn’t thought about it or prepared in advance. In any case, where there are no people, we’ll try to be the person who steps forward, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu will help us find the right words. Boruch Hashem, I had the privilege of being with the Rebbe shlita this year with my whole family, a full Hakhel gathering, children and all. Perhaps from that perspective we saw things in a somewhat different light than usual. Before I traveled, when we were deciding whether to take the children, the fact that it was Hakhel was the only thing that convinced us. There was all the effort, all the expense, and all the time we kept hearing how crowded it was, that people were davening outside, that it was simply impossible. Rosh Hashanah had already passed, time was moving on, and people who called kept saying there were more and more people, no room, minyanim outside, and so on. So to bring children now—surely we wouldn’t get to see or hear anything. Still, we took them and went. And Boruch Hashem, I think everyone came away feeling that, despite all the crowding, the children, the crying, the noise and the pushing, there was no one who didn’t see it all. No one who didn’t hear it all. No one who didn’t understand and feel it all, who didn’t sense everything the Rebbe gives us in such abundance. We arrived on Erev Sukkos and stayed until after Simchas Torah, and you could say there wasn’t a second when the Rebbe wasn’t giving to people. Quite simply. He hardly went into his room, was hardly ever alone, and was with the people almost all the time. Hakhel—the people were there all the time, and he was with the people all the time. There were days when it was practically from morning onward, with only short breaks: Shacharis, then the dollars, then straight from there to Minchah, and then

01:53 Speaker 1 in the evening a sicha, then the farbrengen, and then Simchas Torah. We could see the Rebbe at his work virtually all the time, and even a wall, even a board, even a stone could have seen that this was simply G-dliness. There is no other normal explanation for what you see there, and what... Without any special effort to summon a chossid’s faith in the Rebbe, ordinary people see and feel that there is a special holiness here. You can’t watch the Rebbe, at his age—if you think about it in ordinary terms—standing for hours and hours and hours, and not think that there is something extraordinary here. Everything there simply took a long time because of the enormous crowd, despite his truly remarkable speed. I think that if someone else, somewhere else, had stood distributing a dollar to so many people, just doing the simple arithmetic would show that it would take longer. With the huge lines everywhere, everything moved quickly, and you couldn’t sense any strain on the Rebbe at all. You stand in line for hours, with thousands of people ahead of you and hundreds or thousands more behind you—people with babies, men, women, all sorts of people. And when you stand beside the Rebbe, despite what they say about the organizers pushing people along and hurrying them, the people standing there don’t feel it. The moment you stand beside the Rebbe, his patience and the feeling he gives you are that you are his only daughter. There was no one before you, and there is no one after you. Everything, absolutely everything, is for you. The abundance, the holiness, the G-dliness, the blessings, the joy—all of it is so that you can receive something. And we had the feeling that we had received so very much, and we simply couldn’t take it all in, because we weren’t vessels strong enough. With so many blessings, a vessel has to be able to contain them. Sometimes a little spills over; sometimes something in the vessel cracks a little.

03:43 Speaker 1 But the blessings keep coming, in truly extraordinary abundance. This year there wasn’t a second without a blessing from the Rebbe’s mouth, or without joy and Hakhel and all kinds of words of encouragement and joy, and again joy, and everything else. When the Rebbe distributed lekach this year, to most people he didn’t say the usual words, “A good and sweet year.” He spoke of joy and Hakhel, good news and joyous occasions. Whoever asked and whoever approached, it all came with more encouragement to increase the joy and increase Hakhel. Throughout the entire time, we really felt that the joy never stopped for a moment. And if someone wanted to rest a little from the joy, to stop singing for a bit on Simchas Torah, or stop dancing or smiling for a bit, they simply couldn’t. It was out of the question. The feeling was that if someone so much as wanted to, the Rebbe would immediately turn in their direction: go on, keep singing, keep dancing. You mustn’t rest here. It was simply out of the question. I think we felt it even in the women’s section. If we wanted to step outside for a bit—there was no way. We had to keep singing, keep dancing, keep rejoicing. It was impossible to leave that joy. A year of joy, a year of Hakhel—both the name of the year, 5748, and the fact that it is a Hakhel year, which is very, very special. The Rebbe said that if it is specifically this year that we are commanded to fulfill the mitzvah of Hakhel and strengthen our fear of Hashem, and specifically this year that we must gather the entire people, and so on, then, as with everything in the Torah, we know that when Hakadosh Boruch Hu commands something, He also gives us the strength to do it. There is no mitzvah that Hakadosh Boruch Hu commands without, at the same time, sending down a channel of abundance that gives us the strength to fulfill

05:17 Speaker 1 that mitzvah. Hakadosh Boruch Hu does not simply make demands of people. The moment He asks something of someone, He also gives that person the strength to carry it out. And so, if once every seven years, in the eighth year, after the Shemitah year, on Sukkos, we were given such a powerful mitzvah to gather the entire people—men, women and children—in Jerusalem, in the Beis Hamikdash, and to strengthen their fear of Hashem for all their days, so that this moment would strengthen their fear of Hashem for all their days, then, the Rebbe says, it also gives us the strength to fulfill that mitzvah. Specifically this year, we truly have the strength to fulfill it. If in other years we tried to strengthen our fear of Hashem in other ways, this year it is much easier, much more possible, because we have been given the abundance and the strength to do it. We simply need to make use of the strength Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives us specifically this year, specifically at gatherings like these, gatherings of Hakhel that bring people together, no matter what kind of people they are or what background they come from, all together in a holy place. And as Rabbi Greenblatt explained, it does not have to be specifically the Beis Hamikdash. It can be a mikdash me’at, a miniature sanctuary, such as a shul, or even a home or a room, and so on. All of these are a mikdash me’at. Now we are beginning to understand a little of all the preparation the Rebbe made for Hakhel through this whole discussion of what a mikdash me’at is, what a Chabad House is, and so on. All of it was deep groundwork so that, when we reached the Hakhel year, we could understand what it means to gather men, women and children wherever they may be, that every place is a sanctuary, and that through this we can strengthen our fear of Hashem. The Rebbe said we must strengthen it so much that it will last until the next Hakhel—another seven years of strengthened fear of Hashem, for all our days, as

06:47 Speaker 1 as it says in the verse. There’s one more small point I want to share, which for some reason touched my heart especially this year. I’ve seen it many times before, but this year I noticed it. It’s something everyone can learn from: how the Rebbe cherishes mitzvos. For some reason, it stood out to me very strongly this year. The Rebbe performs mitzvos—not for the first year, or the second, or the third. For many years he has performed them with hiddur, observing every detail and so on. As human beings, we sometimes feel that something we do again and again simply becomes a matter of habit. We do it beautifully, even with hiddur; we try to buy expensive arba minim and so on. But to see how the Rebbe performs each mitzvah as though it were his first time! With such enthusiasm and such special excitement, even over every little mitzvah we saw the Rebbe do there. Take the mitzvah of the arba minim. This year I watched how the Rebbe held the arba minim as though they were the most precious thing in the world, almost as one would hold a beloved baby, drawing them close to his heart with such devotion through all the waving, with such excitement—as though this were the very moment he was performing this mitzvah for the first time, and the first time he had been given the great privilege of performing it. With genuine love for each and every mitzvah. Or the mitzvah of tzedakah: the way the Rebbe places the coin in a child’s hand, which of course is both tzedakah and educating children. Every mitzvah is done with real thought, with renewed excitement and enthusiasm, with affection. He performs the mitzvah simply because he loves it. We saw this especially this year on Simchas Torah, in a way we hadn’t seen quite so much in previous years. The Rebbe’s love for the Torah was plain for everyone to see. I don’t think you had to be anyone special to

08:34 Speaker 1 see and feel there how the Rebbe held the Sefer Torah and simply loved it. It was done with affection, with joy. How much we should rejoice, and how fortunate we are to have merited receiving the Torah. The Rebbe danced with the Sefer Torah out of genuine love and joy and gratitude to Hakadosh Boruch Hu for giving the Torah specifically to us, the Jewish people, the chosen people. We truly felt it there: the Rebbe simply loves the Torah and loves the mitzvos. He doesn’t do these things out of routine. If only we could learn a little from that. When we perform mitzvos—mitzvos we already do, that we’re accustomed to observing and don’t have to make any special effort to do—then when we do them, we should do them with love, with joy, with the feeling that it’s a pleasure, and thank Hashem that we have merited to know the mitzvos and are able to perform them, and that the Torah and mitzvos were given to us. This is expressed in many, many other mitzvos too. I’ve mentioned only a few examples here, and anyone who sees how the Rebbe performs mitzvos has felt it with each and every mitzvah. To conclude, I want to wish that we merit to be worthy vessels to receive even a little of the tremendous abundance the Rebbe shlita bestowed upon us this month and continues to bestow upon us. May Hakadosh Boruch Hu give him much strength, long life and health, so that we may continue to receive more and more of this abundance and carry out some of the tasks placed upon us. Good Shabbos.

10:06 Speaker 2 Thank you very much, Mrs. Raziel Prin[?]. If only we truly become vessels for everything that those who were there saw and received, or that we will see and receive here. A representative of the girls. Now? All right, then, Mrs. Naomi Rivkin.

10:35 Speaker 3 Good week to you all. I’m used to speaking, but in front of women, and especially... But, bli ayin hara. Bli ayin hara, bli ayin hara. No, no, no, it’s a good thing. I hope you can all hear me. I hope—I’ll try. I’ll try very hard to make sure you can all hear. We began writing the Sefer Torah two years ago, toward the end of the winter of 5745, I think. No, perhaps 5746. In any case, we began writing a Sefer Torah around Pesach two years ago, just for our family. We were with the Rebbe on Pesach and asked again: “You’re writing a Sefer Torah”—and we asked where to bring it once it was completed. We received an answer: of course, to the Rebbe’s shul, Beis Menachem. Fine, but the writing went on and on. However much we wanted to finish earlier, it didn’t happen. The sofer promised to finish it within half a year, by Pesach, but that didn’t happen. It dragged on further, and eventually he promised us he would finish it for the occasion—by 20 Menachem Av, to be with the Rebbe on the yahrzeit of Reb Levi Yitzchak. We turned ourselves inside out trying, but it didn’t happen. My husband pressed him: “At least by Tishrei. I’m booking tickets; we’re going.” And my husband—may he be well—has his... I’m not saying he’s on some higher plane; he just doesn’t quite land on earth when it comes to things connected with Moshiach and his ideas. One of those ideas was that, with Hashem’s help, the completion should take place on Simchas Torah. Maybe—no, not maybe—we made rather a lot of plans on our own, and we lost a lot of sleep over getting there, but apparently, in the end, it was worth it in some way. And we decided... But the Sefer Torah was finished, and Hillel said, “What do you want from me? I can’t do it.” He barely managed it by 13 Tishrei. On 13 Tishrei we traveled; he traveled, we were on the same flight, and the Sefer Torah was ready. Now, it’s forbidden—

13:00 Speaker 3 forbidden to take a complete Sefer Torah out of Israel. I consulted Rabbi Ashkenazi. How should we take it out? What should we take out, and in what way? In fact, Rabbi Ashkenazi was the first person outside the family to know. Even within the family, no one knew we were leaving with a Sefer Torah. Even Bracha didn’t know. Just the two of us and the sofer knew; no one else did. Toward the end, my husband’s mashpia found out too. He did get it out of me, because we were honestly trembling at the thought of going ahead and holding a siyum Sefer Torah for the Rebbe in the beis midrash. We had already asked how to take the scroll out and received instructions. We took out the Sefer Torah, and no one knew what we were taking with us when we left for the airport that morning. Well, we arrived there. We knew the Rebbe was going to the Ohel on Tuesday, and Zusha[?] very much wanted us to arrive before the Rebbe left for the Ohel. So on the plane we sat and prepared the note. Of course, if we came and told the secretaries that we had a Sefer Torah and what we had in mind for it, they would immediately say, “Take your dreams to the beis midrash; this isn’t appropriate.” So we prepared a note, and that was it. We said, whatever happens, I’ll put the note directly into the Rebbe’s hand. We prepared it on the plane and wrote that we had a nearly completed Sefer Torah, with only half an hour’s work left according to the Rebbe’s instructions, and that it could then be completed with a siyum. We asked the Rebbe to grant us the privilege of his participating in the completion by writing one letter—one letter to complete the Sefer Torah. This was already Tuesday evening, when the Rebbe returned from the Ohel. When the Rebbe returned from the Ohel—apparently it was when he came back from Maariv, because I didn’t go upstairs again; I stayed where everyone was standing. Leibel Groner opened the

15:04 Speaker 3 door, standing somewhat sideways, with his back half-turned to those outside by the door. And that was it: he took the note and put it into the Rebbe’s hand. Leibel saw it. That was one thing. I don’t know what would happen, but by then it was too late. It was already in, and rumors came out of the secretariat that the Rebbe doesn’t like notes handed to him directly. But again, there was no going back. It was done. That was Wednesday morn—no, it was Tuesday evening. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Shabbos. There was no special sign. You know how some people feel they get smiles from the Rebbe, that the Rebbe glances at them without making it obvious or showing them too much favor in front of the whole crowd, but they understand each other and feel that... that they’ve received something in a glance that no one else got. That’s how a person feels. But there was nothing. Well, the strain we were under—after all, who were we to dare ask the Rebbe to write a letter in our private Sefer Torah? We had also been with the Rebbe on Pesach. We went to Montreal for the first days of Pesach and hurried back for Sunday, for Chol Hamoed Pesach, to receive a dollar. Yom Tov fell on Wednesday and Thursday, and on Thursday night, after Yom Tov, we traveled so we could be in New York for Shabbos and receive a dollar on Sunday morning. We arrived on Chol Hamoed Pesach—no dollars. There were no dollars on Chol Hamoed Pesach. Fine, surely there wouldn’t be dollars on Sukkos either. There aren’t any on Chol Hamoed.

17:08 Speaker 4 Listen, we’re talking here—don’t fool us.

17:12 Speaker 3 So apparently there were no dollars on Chol Hamoed either. All right, so we waited for the Rebbe to come in—when he arrived, the Rebbe came from the bank. Suddenly there were dollars. So the line formed, and that was that. I went by and received mine later, but the women went first, then the men. When Zusha went by, the Rebbe told him, “I read your note all the way through, and as for your request that I also write a letter, I’ll tell you the truth...” The Sefer Torah—she hadn’t known how to choose what she chose, why they had made it, and so on. That was it. No, today it’s completely the other way around. Anyway, when my husband came to receive his dollar, the Rebbe told him, “I read the entire note you gave me, and I’ll tell you about the letter: In my life, I have never written a letter in a Sefer Torah. I’m simply afraid.” He was very [unclear]. And the Rebbe apologized that he wasn’t prepared to accept the—that he couldn’t grant us that pleasure. I think we can all learn from this who the Rebbe is and who we are. The Rebbe asked my husband, “Please forgive me for not being prepared to accept the honor you’re offering me, because I’m afraid of the very occasion itself.” And the Rebbe said to do the—we had also asked in the note what would happen, where we should hold the hachnasas Sefer Torah, the completion and procession we wanted to have there, and where and when. But the Rebbe said, “Ask in Eretz Yisroel,” so we asked the rabbi in Kfar Chabad. All right, we thought, now the matter of the Sefer Torah is settled. A weight was lifted from our hearts, and that was that. We didn’t need to be anxious anymore. At kos shel bracha, meanwhile, there were openings. A story had already spread that someone had brought a Sefer Torah and the Rebbe had apologized, and that was it. Because when we brought the Sefer Torah, we simply brought it. Nobody knew. There wasn’t a soul

20:17 Speaker 3 at home; nobody knew what we had brought. The story was already out that there was a Sefer Torah, that Zusha had brought one. And at kos shel bracha after Shabbos Bereishis, Zusha went by. He received a cup of—he had already received the wine, and I saw them pouring it back. The mashke? Well, what could it be? What was happening? What was going on? Could the Rebbe be calling Zusha back to give him another bottle of mashke? Meanwhile, the Rebbe said—as I understood it in the end—that he should take the bottle of mashke. He said it had to be [unclear], because of the bottle and the Sefer Torah. So when would the Sefer Torah be in Eretz Yisroel? On Monday there was yechidus, and before that we had prepared our note for yechidus, and a note saying that we were leaving on Tuesday evening. We asked for a blessing for the journey, and Zusha ran as fast as he could to give that note to Leibel before yechidus, so it would get in on time. Well, during yechidus, the men—the hall downstairs, the beis midrash, was full. The men at least had room on their side, with all the tiered platforms and everything; they had somewhere to stand. The women arranged a sofa on a chair, a table on a sofa, and a rocking chair, and so on. People climbed up to see the Rebbe. I’m not a climber; I stood on a bed. So Zusha was on something like a third level, and our cousins from France gestured to me: “Ah! The Rebbe is talking to Zusha! Look how long—look!” They were all doing it together: “Look, look how long!” Afterward,

22:16 Speaker 3 they started reaching out their hands to me, and a girl—I think her name was Chaya Gruzman—said, “Come and see where Isaac is. He’s coming out.” But by then Zusha had already gone by the Rebbe. Well, the Rebbe spoke with Zusha, spoke with Isaac—what did they discuss? It took a long time. I didn’t know what they had actually said. Then things began happening. I always planned from the outset to stay toward the end of the women’s line, when the crush of women coming up to the Rebbe would ease, so I was among the last. Meanwhile, things had happened, and Zusha had gone through too. Zusha knew I was there. He understood that I knew the Rebbe had spoken with him for a long time, and he wanted to tell me what had happened. So he asked Chaya Koren, who was already outside, to tell me. Chaya Koren came in and told me, and I said, well—I wasn’t then the way I am now. I was in a completely different state of mind. But boruch Hashem. After that, the pressure of preparations really began, and there was still more to get ready.

23:26 Speaker 5 A different state of mind, when she had just [unclear] the Rebbe with thanks, and also...

23:31 Speaker 3 Well, our business is catering, but there we didn’t have—hospitality, right? Cancellations, waiting, and preparations, but there we couldn’t touch anything, and we needed a seudas mitzvah. So things really started...

23:45 Speaker 5 Excuse me, the Rebbe had already given them instructions to do what needed to be done there. He had already told him it didn’t need to be said.

23:52 Speaker 3 One moment, uh.

23:53 Speaker 5 I didn’t hear what... It’s kosher.

23:55 Speaker 3 Yes. She simply—excuse me—she simply gave it to him. I’m sorry. During yechidus, the Rebbe asked my husband, “What have you decided about the Sefer Torah?” So he had heard the Rebbe say to give it to the rabbi. Then the Rebbe told him, “You are here, and the sofer is here.” Now, the word can mean two things in Hebrew: the sefer, the Sefer Torah, and the sofer, the person who wrote it. From that, they understood that they should complete the Sefer Torah here, with Hashem’s help, on Thursday night. “I’m going to the Ohel, and wait for me until I return.” Well, I didn’t know exactly what waiting there would mean. Apparently the Rebbe wanted to take part in the completion. There was already a plan to read from the Sefer Torah on Friday morning, which was Rosh Chodesh, on Shabbos morning, and at Shabbos Mincha—three readings from the Sefer Torah. All right, and “it should be arranged for Shabbos.” That was the expression. Afterward, someone came to the Rebbe—I don’t know how it happened or what they called it—and said there was a wedding on Thursday, the fourteenth of the month. Now, the whole night was taken up with the wedding. It was for the rabbi—boruch Hashem, we now had a groom in the family in Israel. So an instruction came from the Rebbe that, since there was a wedding, they should do it on Friday morning. Then we no longer knew what would happen: whether to wait to complete the Sefer Torah until the Rebbe came back from the Ohel, or to finish it by ten, so that when the Rebbe arrived and came down for davening and the Torah reading, the Sefer Torah would already be finished. Zusha went to Leibel again and again, and they were looking for Zusha, and Zusha... In the end, Leibel concluded that until the Rebbe returned from the Ohel, we wouldn’t know what to do. Meanwhile, we needed to—

26:06 Speaker 3 There was a Sefer Torah, there was a completion of a Sefer Torah; it needed a finishing touch. So we began to—and we were always getting bits of information, and I wasn’t quite following. We didn’t know where or what. We started looking for a place where the Torah could be read. Everything was there. Anyone who was there knows that every trip took hours: going there, coming back, missing things. The Rebbe would be coming out, and we wanted to be there. The Rebbe said, “You—if you want to be there.” There were all these things going on. And then there was preparing the meal itself. That too—well, it was all running around, looking for where and what. But it’s clear, absolutely clear, that they did a good job; everything was good. Meanwhile, on Wednesday, apparently Leibel[?] was looking for someone. What happened? The Rebbe had said to notify the guests not to leave, and that anyone who did leave shouldn’t complain afterward that no one had told him he would regret it. Well, then. Someone who wasn’t [unclear]—whatever he said, that was how it would be. Then they looked for the boys. I don’t even know which of the yeshiva students. And afterward they looked for Chafer[?] too, to announce that the girls weren’t flying either. People started canceling all their flights. And it really was an extraordinary Shabbos. In fact, throughout that whole week the Rebbe was happy. On the last Sunday, I think, the Rebbe went to the Ohel. Well, people were standing there, doing what they were doing. I don’t know. I went there; I stood there. You could find me there. The Rebbe went to the Ohel. He was sitting in the car, and—I had often seen the Rebbe leave for the Ohel, always with his head lowered. He had so much on his shoulders; it was quite a heavy burden to bring to the Ohel. This time the Rebbe left with a smile on his face, waving both hands to the two groups standing on either side of the car, with such

28:03 Speaker 3 openheartedness. I had never seen the Rebbe leave for the Ohel in such a good mood. I truly hope that this means it’s already here—that Moshiach is already here, and he will bring the Jewish people out of all their troubles.

28:18 Speaker 6 Amen.

28:19 Speaker 3 Thank you very much.

28:21 Speaker 6 Thank you very much, Naomi. We’ll continue. The representative of the girls—the seminary student Malky Pinson.

28:44 Speaker 7 I was asked today to speak about what the Rebbe discussed each day concerning the ushpizin after Maariv. So I’ll try to share something about the connection between the ushpizin. As everyone knows, the Rebbe spoke a great deal about Hakhel and emphasized it throughout the month. On the first night of Sukkos, the Rebbe derived the idea of Hakhel from the ushpizin—that is, from Avraham Avinu and the Baal Shem Tov. It says of both Avraham Avinu and the Baal Shem Tov that each was one, that they represented the Jewish people. With the Baal Shem Tov, we see this even more clearly: his name was Yisroel, and it says, “A Jew, even though he has sinned, is still a Jew.” So even when there are Jews who have sinned or transgressed, all are equal. We find, then, that both embody unity and Hakhel. On the second night of Sukkos, we learned about the connection between the ushpizin and joy. Sarah Imeinu named her son Yitzchak because, as she said, “Everyone who hears will laugh with me.” Rashi explains