Shabbos Mevorchim Sivan - Humility Together with Pride, All as Preparation for Matan Torah - Rabbi Asher Parkesh

00:02 They tell of a chossid of the Alter Rebbe named Reb Mordechai Liepler. Reb Mordechai Liepler was one of the Alter Rebbe’s great chassidim, and he lived in Petersburg. In those days, Jews generally were not allowed to live in Petersburg. Only people with connections to the royal court, who dealt with government ministers and held important positions, received special permission to live there. Reb Mordechai Liepler, who was very wealthy and had close ties to the government, lived in Petersburg. They say he was the chossid in whose home the Alter Rebbe stayed after his imprisonment, in that episode. As is well known, the Alter Rebbe was imprisoned in Petersburg. When 19 Kislev arrived, the Alter Rebbe was set free and left the prison. On the great Yom Tov of the festival of liberation, he spent several hours in the home of an opponent of Chassidus, and afterward came to Reb Mordechai Liepler’s home. That was the home the Alter Rebbe came to after his release. The Alter Rebbe once said of Reb Mordechai Liepler that he was a beinoni of Tanya. In other words, the Alter Rebbe said—and this means

01:43 that the beinoni of Tanya is a very lofty level. After all, the Alter Rebbe describes a beinoni in Tanya as someone who “has never committed a transgression in his life and never will, and has never been called wicked even for a single moment in all his days.” That means a beinoni is completely upright in thought, speech, and action; he “has never been called wicked even for a single moment in all his days.” That is what the Alter Rebbe said about Reb Mordechai Liepler. They tell that once the Alter Rebbe was in [unclear], and Reb Mordechai Liepler was with him. The Alter Rebbe said that he considered himself a beinoni. Reb Mordechai Liepler said, “I don’t consider myself wicked, but if the Rebbe says he is only a beinoni”—as the Gemara says, “You leave no life for anyone else”—Reb Mordechai Liepler said, “What does the Rebbe leave for me?” The Alter Rebbe replied, “There are, after all, many levels within the category of beinoni.” They say that the [unclear] said there are four hundred levels of beinoni. In any event, the Alter Rebbe said that Reb Mordechai Liepler had reached the level of the beinoni of Tanya. They asked him, “How did you reach that level when you live

03:17 in Petersburg?” Petersburg was a large city, the capital in those days, [unclear] of the government, a place with a great deal going on, with streets and people, the opposite of modesty, and there was [unclear]. They asked him, “How is it that, living in Petersburg, in a place like that, you manage to guard yourself so carefully and remain completely upright in thought, speech, and action—someone who has never committed a transgression and never will?” Reb Mordechai Liepler said that his vigilance in thought, speech, and action came precisely from pride. This is what he said: “It comes precisely from pride. When the yetzer hara comes to me and says, ‘Mordechai, come do something improper, [unclear] or speak about something improper, or do some improper act, some transgression,’ I stand up to it and say: ‘You, Mordechai Liepler—you’re a chossid of the Alter Rebbe, and you’re [unclear] a wealthy man and a man of the Alter Rebbe. Do you want to lose all that? Do you want to sell yourself to the yetzer hara? To sell yourself to the force of [unclear], in thought, speech, and action? That’s not fitting!’” That thought gave him the strength to overcome everything improper. That is how he guarded himself in thought, speech, and action. This is a story chassidim tell. The Rebbe told it several times at chassidic farbrengens.

05:06 Humility is a very good thing, Yossi. But when the yetzer hara comes, you do need to make use of pride and a sense of dignity. “His heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem”—that is the wording of the verse. “His heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem.” A person needs to use that uplifted heart, that element of pride, against it. And this point is connected to the time we are in now, the time of the Giving of the Torah. We are approaching Shabbos Mevarchim for the month of Sivan, the third month. “In the third month after the Children of Israel left the land of Egypt,” “on this day they came to the Sinai Desert,” and “Israel encamped there opposite the mountain.” The Jewish people stood before Mount Sinai, and as we stand before the Giving of the Torah, this is a time to reflect on a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov and of Chassidus about how we should serve Hashem. The Baal Shem Tov draws attention to a detail concerning Shavuos in a verse of the Torah, in Parshas Vayikra. In discussing the laws of offerings, the Torah says: “For no leaven or honey shall you burn as a fire-offering to Hashem.” When bringing offerings to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, we are told, “No leaven or honey shall you burn.” Offerings could not be brought with leaven—the substance that makes dough rise, which is called se’or and is used to leaven dough—or with honey, meaning sweet things of various kinds, as Rashi explains. That is called honey, bee honey. So an offering on the altar

06:59 on the altar could contain neither leaven nor honey. The verse continues: “You shall bring them as an offering of the first fruits.” What is this “offering of the first fruits”? Rashi says that on Shavuos, the first-fruits offerings included both leaven and honey. For one thing, the Two Loaves were offered on Shavuos. As is well known, the Two Loaves offered on Shavuos were chametz. All other meal offerings had to be matzah, but the Two Loaves were chametz, and making them required leaven. There was also honey—all kinds of sweetness—meaning fruit. On Shavuos, people had to bring bikkurim to the Beis Hamikdash. The bikkurim included various kinds of fruit, among them dates, from which date honey is made. That is the element of honey. So on Shavuos, in the “first-fruits offering”—the Two Loaves were the first offering that had to be brought, the first offering from the new wheat—there were both leaven and honey. The holy Baal Shem Tov asks: What is the Torah hinting to us? The Torah says that a Jew must know that when he comes to serve Hashem, “No leaven or honey shall you burn.”

08:34 In serving Hashem, there must not be, G-d forbid, even a trace of pride. Pride must be entirely ruled out of our service of Hashem. As the Gemara says, “Neither any of it nor even a part of it.” A Jew must rule out even a trace of pride; he must have neither any measure nor even a fraction of pride or self-importance. How much more so according to the way of Chassidus, which speaks so much about bittul—setting aside one’s sense of self and one’s very sense of independent existence. When we want to serve Hashem, we must have complete bittul, the opposite of pride and self-importance. The Baal Shem Tov says: This is the scent of leaven. Leaven represents the trace of pride. Honey represents sweetness, taste, and pleasure. When a person wants to serve Hashem in a way that feels pleasant to him, when he is seeking enjoyment, to that too the Torah says, “No leaven or honey shall you burn.” Our service of Hashem should contain neither a trace of pride nor a trace of seeking pleasure. It should be entirely an expression of bittul, of devotion and kabbolas ol—giving ourselves over completely to Hashem. But the Torah says, “an offering of the first fruits.” This refers to how the Jewish people stood at the Giving of the Torah. Shavuos is a time of beginnings, the beginning of our service. When a person begins to serve Hashem and stands “opposite the mountain,” he faces a battle, the battle against the yetzer hara. The yetzer hara is that “mountain” he must stand against. The mountain

10:04 represents the yetzer hara, which he must indeed stand against. To this the Torah says, “You shall bring them as an offering of the first fruits”: specifically at the beginning of one’s service, there must be a trace of leaven, a trace of pride—“His heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem.” And similarly, a trace of pleasure. The holy Baal Shem Tov explains that when a person is at the beginning of his service, the yetzer hara comes to him and says, “Who are you to approach holiness?” The yetzer hara tells him, “You know how lowly you are. You know that you have no connection to any of this. You know who you are and what your service is like. You know your own lowliness; you are utterly lowly. So who are you to draw close to Hashem, to draw close to Hakadosh Boruch Hu? Who are you to want to be close to Hashem?” To this we say that at the beginning of one’s service, when a person starts serving Hashem, there must specifically be a trace of leaven and honey. He needs to reflect on the fact that Hashem said of the Jewish people, “You have chosen us from among all the nations”—and that was the point of the Giving of the Torah. Hashem called the Jewish people to Him and said, “You shall be to Me a kingdom of priests.” A Jew is a king, part of “a kingdom of priests,” and he must recognize his greatness in this and reflect on it. The Baal Shem Tov teaches that he must reflect on this.

11:28 As it says, “The world was created for my sake.” The whole world is waiting for me. And the Gemara relates that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said that if the Jewish people were lacking, it would not have been possible to give the Torah. In other words, the whole world stands waiting for my Torah, my mitzvos, and my service of Hashem. And the same is true of the scent of honey: one needs to sense and contemplate the sweetness of Torah, the pleasure in a mitzvah, the pleasure in serving Hashem. “An offering of first fruits”—at the beginning of one’s service, there needs to be the scent of leaven and honey. Afterward, once a person has entered the holy place and begun to serve Hashem, that service needs to be marked by bittul, self-nullification. [unclear]. Once we are inside, engaged in serving Hashem, we need to work on ourselves so that there is no leaven or honey, but rather service with complete bittul. Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev also gives an example of this. The author of Kedushas Levi of Berditchev raises a point here and, in his words, offers another reason. He asks: Why, on Pesach, must we specifically eat matzah, while even the slightest amount of chametz is forbidden—an absolute prohibition? The Torah says there must be no chametz and no leaven at all: “It shall neither be seen nor found.” Even the slightest amount of chametz is completely ruled out, while on the other hand there is the mitzvah of matzah. And when Shavuos arrives, he goes on to say—

13:12 the Rebbe says that precisely then, “the two loaves shall be baked as chametz,” and asks a question about this. He gives an amazing answer: Generally speaking, he says, there are two kinds of ways in which Hakadosh Boruch Hu acts. There is the way Hakadosh Boruch Hu acts that comes entirely from Above, [unclear]. Yes, [unclear], the way Hakadosh Boruch Hu runs the world. He created all of creation and runs the world. Sometimes He runs it through nature, and sometimes through miracles, performing all the miracles and wonders He did for the Jewish people. He runs the world as Hakadosh Boruch Hu, “the great, mighty, and awesome” One. That is His greatness. And that was how Hakadosh Boruch Hu acted at the time of the Exodus from Egypt. At the time of the Exodus, before the Giving of the Torah, even though the Jews were then in a state of “these worship idols and those worship idols,” Hakadosh Boruch Hu performed miracles and wonders out of His greatness and exaltedness. But when we come to the Giving of the Torah, when “You chose us from among all the nations,” Hakadosh Boruch Hu bound Himself to the Jewish people and established the world in a state where the entire world is drawn onward through the Jewish people, through Knesses Yisroel. The whole course of the world depends on the Jews. As the Gemara says in the well-known account: When Rabbi Eliezer ben Horkenus disagreed with the other Tannaim, the Gemara relates that Hakadosh Boruch Hu “smiled and said: My children have prevailed over Me, My children have prevailed over Me.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu smiled and laughed, and said with delight and satisfaction, “My children have prevailed over Me, My children have prevailed over Me.” The Jews had, so to speak, prevailed over Him. That is, as the Gemara says, Hakadosh Boruch Hu decrees and a tzaddik annuls the decree; a tzaddik decrees and Hakadosh Boruch Hu fulfills it. The power a Jew has in serving Hashem is such that all matters in the world are drawn onward

15:17 through the tzaddik, through the Jew, Knesses Yisroel, Tiferes Yisroel—they guide the world. He says this was the difference between the period of the Exodus from Egypt and the period of the Giving of the Torah. From here emerge two kinds of service of Hashem. An amazing thing. When a Jew contemplates the way Hakadosh Boruch Hu runs the world, the greatness of creation, the greatness with which Hakadosh Boruch Hu directs everything, the miracles and wonders, the grandeur, exaltedness, and marvels—all of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s greatness—and stands before all this, he must contemplate Hashem’s greatness, His governance of the world, the miracles and wonders, the miracles of the Exodus from Egypt. He must also contemplate who he himself is: utterly lowly, utterly lowly. He becomes completely nullified, filled with awe, and serves Hashem with great awe and profound bittul. This is the mode of service associated with the Exodus from Egypt, with Pesach. [unclear] Hakadosh Boruch Hu is a great King, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu [unclear] in His greatness, in the Exodus from Egypt, the Splitting of the Sea, and the miracles and wonders. And the Jews were in a state of utter lowliness. Hakadosh Boruch Hu led them in a mode of service marked by bittul and lowliness before Him, service with awe and profound bittul, [unclear]. In particular, on Pesach we speak of matzah. What is matzah? What is bittul? What did we say? [unclear]. That is how it is with Jews. In the month of the Giving of the Torah, we speak of “You chose us from among all the nations.” We speak of the exact opposite. We speak of exaltedness, of the exaltedness of the Jews, of how Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose the Jews and “set us apart from all the nations”—language of exaltedness. Hakadosh Boruch Hu elevated the Jewish people, and [unclear] above the entire world and above all the worlds. Everything depends on the Jew, and when the Jew

17:27 puts on kosher tefillin and does so properly, he has an effect Above, in world upon world. The same is true of Torah and mitzvos; not a single movement, thought, word, or deed, G-d forbid, fails to have an effect in them. One needs to understand how to make use of the descent and the fall into the worlds. When a Jew sees his own greatness and exaltedness, and that the entire world depends on his service, what does that do to him? Every thought, word, and deed. But this comes specifically not from lowliness, but from exaltedness, from a sense of being elevated. Great stature, a great quality. This is what is newly revealed on Shavuos, because at the Giving of the Torah there was “You chose us from among all the nations,” and He elevated us. Thus, in practice, a mode of service arising from greatness and exaltedness was also introduced. This is especially so after Pesach, when everything came from Above and the Jews had not yet been elevated so greatly. That mode of service was one of matzah, bittul, and lowliness—lowliness in the face of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s greatness. The miracles and wonders bring the Jew to awe and bittul, especially through eating matzah. But on Shavuos it is the opposite. The Jew serves Hashem from a sense of his own greatness and exaltedness, knowing that the world depends on his thoughts, words, and deeds. That uplifts him through a sense of exaltedness. In particular, we see that on Shavuos there was specifically chametz: the two loaves. Chametz represents holy pride. This is “His heart was lifted up in the ways of Hashem.” It uplifts the Jew so that he serves Hashem in every movement and every thought, word, and deed, in all matters. On this subject, the Alter Rebbe writes in the discourses and maamarim for Shavuos. I’ll take a maamar of the Alter Rebbe. There is a short maamar for this week printed in Likkutei Torah. The Alter Rebbe writes: “To understand the matter”

19:30 “of the Torah being given on a mountain.” The significance of the Torah being given on a mountain. A short maamar. The Alter Rebbe asks the well-known question: We need to understand why the Torah was given on a mountain. The Midrashim relate that when the time came for the Giving of the Torah, the tall mountains, including Carmel, came forward, and they all said they wanted the Torah to be given specifically on them. And Hakadosh Boruch Hu said: No. The Torah was given specifically on Mount Sinai. Why Sinai, of all mountains? After all, it is a low, small mountain. It was because of Mount Sinai’s humility that Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose it specifically. As the Midrash relates: “Sinai”—[unclear]—the smallest of them all, the lowest of them all. Sinai, in particular, embodied lowliness and humility, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu revealed Himself on Sinai. It was there, specifically, that there was bittul: “With one who is crushed and lowly in spirit,” and “To this one I will look: to the poor and broken-spirited, who trembles at My word.” Precisely someone who stands in a state of complete bittul and lowliness is a fitting vessel for Hakadosh Boruch Hu to rest upon. In this way, the Giving of the Torah took place on Sinai. But seemingly, when all is said and done, the Torah was given on a mountain. If the Torah needed to be given specifically in a low place, in a valley or a hollow—if the point was to emphasize the virtue of bittul and humility—it should have been given on a plain or in a valley, somewhere low. Why specifically on a mountain? On this, the Alter Rebbe makes the following point: When a Jew begins serving Hashem, at the start of his service, and wants to approach the holy and serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu, his animal soul comes to him and says: “Who”

21:32 “Who am I, and what am I?” he says to himself. After all these feelings of lowliness—a false lowliness coming from the yetzer hara—he thinks: My service is no service; my prayer and Torah study are worth nothing. This brings on a feeling of lowliness, until he becomes like a threshold that everyone tramples on. A trampled threshold is a doorstep everyone walks over. And that is what he becomes—but not because of the virtue of humility. On the contrary, this feeling comes from the yetzer hara. When the yetzer hara makes him feel that he is a lowly, small, insignificant person, and that his service, Torah study, and prayer are worth nothing, he no longer has the strength to approach holiness and serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu through Torah and prayer. That is why the first step in serving Hashem is specifically the mountain. Although humility and bittul are important—indeed, they are the foundation of serving Hashem—the Torah nevertheless wants to teach us specifically about the mountain. When a Jew approaches the mountain, he does so with a sense of elevation and dignity, with strength in serving Hashem. That sense of elevation gives him the ability to approach holiness and serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is bound up with the strength expressed in the giving of the Torah, in the third month. To prepare for the giving of the Torah, both qualities are needed. On the one hand, there must be bittul and lowliness. This is part of the giving of the Torah: “Let my soul be like dust before all; open my heart to Your Torah.” We say specifically, “Let my soul be like dust”—when a Jew feels himself to be like dust, then...

23:25 “Open my heart to Your Torah.” This is the bittul needed in Torah study, as a preparation for learning Torah. On the other hand, we say that there must specifically be “his heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem”; there must be the mountain. When a person stands before Hakadosh Boruch Hu at the beginning of his service, alongside bittul he must also have the strength that comes from a sense of elevation: “The world was created for my sake”; my service of Hashem matters Above; my prayer, my Torah study, my mitzvah, and my thought, speech, and action matter to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. [unclear] And every movement and every detail has its place among all the matters of the entire world and everything in it. This is also one of the points he brings up [unclear] concerning the month of Sivan: both qualities are needed. Ah, Rosh Chodesh—concerning the month of Sivan, Rosh Chodesh Sivan. The Torah says, “In the third month after the children of Israel left the land of Egypt, on this day they came to the wilderness of Sinai.” When was that? The Torah does not state the date explicitly. It says, “On this day.” The Gemara in Shabbos asks: What does “on this day” mean? The Gemara says we learn it through a gezeirah shavah, an analogy based on identical words. We do not know when it was; the Torah does not say so explicitly. We learn it through the words “this” and “this.” It says, “This month shall be for you the first of months.” That was on Rosh Chodesh Nissan. There it says, “This month shall be for you,” while here it says, “On this day they came to the wilderness of Sinai.” The gezeirah shavah from “this” and “this” teaches that it was on Rosh Chodesh; here too, it is speaking about Rosh Chodesh. Tosafos ask: Why learn it from “this” and “this”? One could

25:10 learn it from another gezeirah shavah. There is another gezeirah shavah. The Gemara says, regarding an entirely different verse and a different subject, that there is a gezeirah shavah based on “wilderness” and “wilderness.” From there we learn that [unclear] “in the wilderness of Sinai.” Yes, we learn it from “wilderness” and “wilderness.” In one place it says, “On the first of the second month,” yes, “in the wilderness of Sinai.” Here it says, “They came to the wilderness of Sinai,” and the gezeirah shavah from “wilderness” and “wilderness” teaches that this was on Rosh Chodesh. That is what Tosafos ask: Why say here that it is learned from “this” and “this”? Why not learn it from “wilderness” and “wilderness”? In any case, we see that there are two ways to derive that it was Rosh Chodesh. It can be learned from “wilderness” and “wilderness,” or from “this” and “this.” Tosafos explain that it is preferable to learn it from “this” and “this,” because that refers to Rosh Chodesh. Here, the words “on this day” refer to Rosh Chodesh, and that is how we know, and so on. But what is the explanation? What is the meaning of these two ways of learning it? As Tosafos ask, we can learn from “wilderness” and “wilderness” that it was Rosh Chodesh, or we can learn it from “this” and “this.” He says that these represent two ideas. The difference between “wilderness” and “this” is that they are opposites. The wilderness signifies bittul. The wilderness—the wilderness is about bittul. That is the straightforward meaning. The wilderness is a place that everyone treads

26:35 on; it is open to all, as it says in the Midrashim. That is why the Torah was given in a wilderness. The wilderness teaches that a person must make himself like a wilderness: humble himself, set himself aside, and allow others to tread on him. That is the idea of the wilderness—the lowliness and humility needed in serving Hashem and learning Torah. And here is a simple, precious point: the Alter Rebbe gives another interpretation of the word midbar, “wilderness.” Midbar is also related to speech. But mi-daber, with a chirik vowel, means as though the words are being spoken of themselves. It is not that the person is speaking; rather, it is mi-daber. Me-daber means that a person is speaking intentionally; mi-daber means that the words are being spoken of themselves. It is like the expression itmar—“it was said,” as though the teaching emerged on its own. What does itmar mean? It was learned on its own. In serving Hashem, this is bittul. When a Jew learns Torah, he should feel mi-daber: It is not me. It is the word of Hashem, “My words that I have placed in your mouth.” Hashem’s word passes through his mouth. When he learns Torah, it is Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s teaching. He is only repeating the words of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, nothing more. “My words that I have placed in your mouth”—these are the words of Hakadosh Boruch Hu passing through his mouth. And itmar—the teaching emerging and being spoken of itself—mi-daber: this is bittul. This is a meaning of the word midbar. By contrast,

27:56 “this” is the opposite. “This” indicates a tangible presence. You can point to it with your finger: this. The thing is revealed and shines forth. The meaning of “this” is that you can see it and point to it with your finger; it is something present and plainly evident. “This day” indicates revelation, revelation in its fullest sense—seemingly the exact opposite of the wilderness. A person stands in a state of light and revelation, in a state of “this,” with all its fullness. The Rebbe says here: That is precisely the point. In preparing for the giving of the Torah, “in the third month,” when the Torah was given—how did the Jewish people arrive at the giving of the Torah? What was involved? Both qualities: on the one hand, “on this day,” and on the other, the wilderness—the complete bittul in which the Jewish people stood then, which prepared them for the giving of the Torah. That is why it says “and he camped”—as one person with one heart—because the Jewish people stood in the greatest unity, which comes specifically from the greatest bittul. For Ahavas Yisroel and Jewish unity to exist, a person cannot be arrogant; if he is, he cannot get along with another person. Ahavas Yisroel specifically requires bittul. And this is Tosafos’ question: Why, indeed, do we not say “wilderness” and “wilderness”? Seemingly, when it comes to preparing for the giving of the Torah, to being like dust and having bittul, it would be better to say that I should stand in the state of a wilderness.

29:17 But the Gemara’s conclusion is: No. We must also say “this,” emphasizing that “this” specifically matters in preparing for the giving of the Torah, alongside bittul and the wilderness. We also need the quality of “this”: a sense of one’s own presence, completeness, and service. A person must know what his service is; he must know that he has to act with all the powers of his soul and serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And when he carries out his service to the fullest, in the manner of “on this day,” that completeness in his service matters to his preparation for the giving of the Torah just as much as the wilderness does. This also explains why, among the parshiyos we read around this time, we sometimes read Parshas Bamidbar before the giving of the Torah, and sometimes Parshas Naso falls then. At this time it is sometimes Bamidbar and sometimes Naso; both Parshas Bamidbar and Parshas Naso serve as preparation for the giving of the Torah. This is the difference between them: Parshas Bamidbar represents bittul, as we said—a wilderness, open to all—the bittul needed in preparation for the giving of the Torah. Parshas Naso, by contrast, evokes being raised up and elevated: there must be a sense of elevation, the quality of “his heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem.”

30:35 “And his heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem.” Both of these together are the proper preparation for the Giving of the Torah. So when the Jewish people come to prepare for the Giving of the Torah, as the third month, Sivan, arrives, how should they stand? Both attitudes are required of them. On the one hand, we need to stand with self-nullification and awe, ownerless like the desert, to become utterly humble as dust in preparation for the Giving of the Torah. But at the same time, the Jewish people need a sense of elevation and uplift: “And his heart was uplifted in the ways of Hashem.” There is a well-known teaching of the Baal Shem Tov about the statement in Tractate Gittin, “The humility of Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkulas destroyed our House.” The holy Baal Shem Tov asks: What does it mean that “his humility destroyed” it? How could humility bring about the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash? Humility is a holy trait: “Be exceedingly humble.” Humility is a good thing. Yet here we are told, “His humility destroyed” it! The point a person must understand is that there is humility that is out of place, humility that destroys. A Jew needs to know this. He cites the verse “If you lie between the lips,” from Psalm 68, the chapter about the Giving of the Torah: a Jew...

32:00 needs to know that the Shechinah rests between a person’s lips. The holy Shechinah sits waiting and anticipating that a Jew will say words of Torah or prayer, thereby giving life and sustenance to the worlds, to souls and angels—to all the worlds. They all receive life from him. Even the holy Shechinah itself waits for and draws life from his Torah and prayer. When a Jew says words of Torah and prayer, the teaching says that the Shechinah waits for and kisses his lips as he speaks. This is what a Jew needs to know when he stands to pray. But when a Jew thinks, “Who am I, and what am I? I am nothing; I am worth nothing,” then, G-d forbid, through that lowliness, that humility, he destroys the Beis Hamikdash within holiness. So when the month of Sivan arrives, together with self-nullification, we must also awaken a sense of elevation and uplift, [unclear], “You shall bring them as a first-fruit offering”: through the first-fruit offering of leaven and honey, to recognize the greatness of a Jew and his power to act and accomplish in all the worlds. This gives us the strength to prepare for the Giving of the Torah: “And you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.” May this month of Sivan indeed be healthy, joyful, and blessed—the month of the Giving of the Torah, the third month. And may we merit to receive the Torah with joy and inwardness, until

33:20 “A new Torah will go forth from Me,” from the mouth of Moshiach.