Parshas Toldos - The Avodah of Yitzchok - Transforming Darkness - Rabbi Asher Perkesh

00:04 In 5738, on the night of Shemini Atzeres, hakafos were held with the Rebbe in the beis midrash. That night, in the middle of hakafos, there was a very large crowd, as there always was on Simchas Torah and Shemini Atzeres, when people came to celebrate and dance. Simchas Torah was one of the happiest days, if not the happiest day of the year with the Rebbe, filled with tremendous joy and dancing. That year, in the middle of hakafos, the Rebbe suffered, G-d forbid, a severe heart attack. It was the beginning of a difficult period in which his life was truly in danger. The Rebbe went through a very serious health crisis, and the doctors thought that, according to the natural course of events, his chances were, G-d forbid, very slim. But through open miracles, the Rebbe recovered, and after a few weeks he was able to leave and go home. That was on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, which became known among chassidim as a day of joy, a great Yom Tov, a day on which we praise and thank Hakadosh Boruch Hu for performing miracles in those days, at this time. On that Shemini Atzeres and Simchas Torah, of course, everyone was deeply shaken. At the same time, the Rebbe asked the chassidim to remain joyful, not to stop the Simchas Torah celebrations, and on the contrary, to keep dancing at hakafos.

02:03 Of course, it was very difficult, particularly because in the first hours, the situation not only failed to improve but even worsened, G-d forbid. It was an extremely difficult situation. Nevertheless, the Rebbe asked the chassidim to bring in joy, because through joy they would bring him health. Among the things that happened in those days: there were doctors there, since the Rebbe did not want to go to the hospital under any circumstances. He remained in his room at 770 throughout that period, from that Simchas Torah until Rosh Chodesh Kislev, more than five weeks. They brought in all the equipment and all the doctors—everything that was needed. At one point, in his room on that Simchas Torah, new doctors arrived and gave the Rebbe the treatment he needed. The Rebbe also spoke with the doctors about various medical questions. While they were giving an injection, the Rebbe began asking the doctor how the syringe worked, what the injection did, and how it all worked. He asked about the details. The point was that when blood needs to be drawn, a syringe is used, and the way it works is that when the syringe’s plunger is pulled back,

03:47 an empty space is created there. That empty space draws the blood out. That is how it works: the blood leaves the body and enters the syringe because an empty space, a void, is created, causing the blood to collect there. That is how blood is drawn. That is how the syringe works. The Rebbe said something very interesting. He said that, as the Baal Shem Tov teaches us, we must take a lesson in serving Hashem from everything. And what lesson in serving Hashem can we learn from this? He said that this was, in fact, the lesson from the situation they were in at that moment. Sometimes there is a time, a situation, of emptiness. A void signifies darkness, absence, something negative. It is an empty place, a state of absence. That is the opposite of kedushah. Kedushah is full; in kedushah, there needs to be fullness. When a void and an empty space are created, that is something contrary to kedushah, suggesting harsh judgments and undesirable things. But here we see that this very void not only does not cause something negative, but

05:18 on the contrary, precisely because a void and an empty space are created, they bring about a fresh flow of blood—“the blood is the soul”—a flow of vitality. The Rebbe explained that we find this principle everywhere: both in the loftiest matters of G-dliness and in a person’s inner work. In the loftiest matters of G-dliness, this is a fundamental, overarching concept explained in Chassidus in the name of the Arizal: the entire creation of the world came about through tzimtzum. As is well known, the Arizal explains how the worlds came into being: the infinite light filled all space, and then a void and an empty space were created. In other words, for the worlds to be able to emerge, there first had to be a void and an empty space. And what happened as a result? The kav, the line of light, was drawn into it. Based on the analogy of the syringe, this means that the void prompted the drawing down of the kav. It is not simply as one might think—that first there was a void, and afterward came light, an illumination, the kav, a small measure of light. Rather, the very creation of the void—the absence, the negation, the empty space—caused it. It arouses and drives a new flow: the flow of light, the flow of the kav that comes after that void. And

06:52 we see this in a person’s inner work: it is precisely the darkness, the void and the empty space, the concealment and obscurity, that arouse a new and deeper flow, a deeper dimension and a deeper light from the soul. We see this in the soul’s descent into this world in general. After all, that descent entails a void and an empty space: it involves a descent, concealment and obscurity. But that does not stand in the way or cause confusion. On the contrary, this void arouses a new flow, new vitality and renewal. We find this especially in the work of teshuvah. When, G-d forbid, there are times in a person’s life when he finds himself in a state of emptiness, an undesirable state, he must not despair, G-d forbid. On the contrary, he must know that new light and new vitality emerge from that emptiness. This is the power of teshuvah: “In the place where baalei teshuvah stand, even the completely righteous cannot stand.” This idea is also explained in relation to the day before Rosh Chodesh and to Rosh Chodesh itself. As is known, concerning the haftarah read on a Shabbos that falls on the day before Rosh Chodesh, “Machar Chodesh,” Chassidus explains what was said to King David: “Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh, and you will be missed, for your seat will be empty.” Yonasan says to King David, “Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh, and you will be missed, for your seat will be empty.” Tomorrow will be,

08:24 it will be the day before Rosh Chodesh, and Yonasan says to David, “Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh”—tomorrow Rosh Chodesh will arrive, and then “you will be missed, for your seat will be empty.” Does he mean that people will remember you? And why will they remember you? “For your seat will be empty”—because your place will be vacant. The plain meaning is this: King Shaul was King David’s father-in-law. On Rosh Chodesh there would be a meal, and the whole family, the royal family, would attend. But the seat would be empty—“for your seat will be empty.” When David’s seat was empty, the question of “you will be missed” would arise: they would mention David and ask, Where is he? That way, they would learn what King Shaul was doing, and so on, as the story continues. The explanation is that this happens specifically on the day before Rosh Chodesh—it is no coincidence. The day before Rosh Chodesh is a time of emptiness. The moon is not visible then; there is no moon. [unclear] A state of absence, of darkness, of a void and an empty space. Standing on the day before Rosh Chodesh, Yonasan says to King David—who is likened to the moon, as explained—“Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh.” Yes, tomorrow Rosh Chodesh will arrive. Now it is the day before Rosh Chodesh, and the moon is in a state of emptiness, of an empty space. But tomorrow Rosh Chodesh will arrive, and the new moon will appear again. But

09:50 it is precisely the emptiness of the day before Rosh Chodesh, its concealment and obscurity, that arouse an inner movement of teshuvah. And through this very void and empty space, that inner movement draws down a new flow from the sun. Thus, “Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh” means renewal and new light from the union of the sun and the moon, as the moon is renewed on Rosh Chodesh. That is why we say, “David, king of Israel, lives and endures,” in connection with Kiddush Levanah. That is what King David represents. And the words “you will be missed, for your seat will be empty” mean that through “your seat will be empty,” through the concealment and obscurity that arise, not only is this no calamity; on the contrary, they arouse a deeper light. Then the Rebbe told a story, [unclear], that took place on Simchas Torah. He related that a Jew had come to him. The man entered yechidus, poured out his heart, and said that he felt completely empty. He felt like an empty vessel; he was empty and desolate. In response, the Rebbe said that the minus, [unclear]. In other words, the very fact that he felt he was in a state of emptiness—that emptiness, his being empty, was itself the preparation for

11:11 So that a deeper vitality and a deeper light can enter the soul. It is precisely the empty space that stirs new blood, new vitality. That is the point of all the examples we have just discussed. And the Rebbe concluded: The same is true of the situation we are in now; we are in a state of “you will be remembered because your place will be empty.” The Rebbe meant this quite literally, referring to his situation at the time: a state of darkness, of concealment in his physical health, when he could not be together with the chassidim and farbreng with them as he usually did on Simchas Torah. But precisely then, one must know not to break down. Rather, from “your place will be empty” will grow “you will be remembered”—a deeper light, a deeper flow, and a deeper vitality. The Rebbe conveyed [unclear]; we will speak briefly about the point. The Rebbe asked his secretary and gabbai, Reb Leibel Groner, a"h, to convey it. He asked him to go to Reb Yoel Kahn, the chozer, Reb Yoel Kahn, a"h, and give him the points. Reb Yoel would then explain them at greater length at the Simchas Torah farbrengen. That is what happened then. And afterward, they saw the great hashgachah pratis. This took place on Shemini Atzeres, Simchas Torah. And the hashgachah pratis was that, indeed, a few weeks later,

12:37 the day on which “you will be remembered” was revealed—and the month in which the Rebbe, baruch Hashem, recovered and returned, and then once again began farbrenging with chassidim and being with chassidim with even greater strength and vigor, for many more years, for long and good years—all of that began on Rosh Chodesh Kislev, specifically on Rosh Chodesh. And this point is also explained, by hashgachah pratis, in the weekly parsha of that time, around Rosh Chodesh Kislev: Parshas Toldos. Parshas Toldos deals entirely with the life of Yitzchak Avinu. Until now, the discussion was about Avraham Avinu; in Parshas [unclear], the discussion is about Yaakov Avinu. But the parsha that deals with Yitzchak Avinu is specifically Parshas Toldos. And in Parshas Toldos, we find the whole idea of “you will be remembered because your place will be empty” in Yitzchak’s avodah. Indeed, we find this idea in several aspects of his avodah, or at least in several points. First, it is present in the name Yitzchak, in the very essence of who he was. As is well known, “the Patriarchs are the chariot”: Avraham Avinu was a chariot for the attribute of chesed, and Yitzchak was a chariot for the attribute of gevurah. And as Chassidus explains regarding the words of the Zohar, the Zohar says that [unclear].

14:14 That is, “And Elokim called the light day, and the darkness He called night.” The Zohar says that Avraham Avinu is called light, and Yitzchak is called darkness. This relates to the attributes of chesed and gevurah. It is easy to understand why Avraham is light: Avraham brought light. Avraham Avinu’s attribute of chesed was truly light and kindness, and it illuminated the world. As the Midrash says, “Until Avraham, the world conducted itself in darkness; Avraham came and began to illuminate it.” But what does it mean that Yitzchak is darkness? As explained at length in the maamarim of Chassidus, especially in a maamar of the Alter Rebbe on this week’s parsha, Parshas Toldos, Yitzchak’s avodah was to engage with the darkness. That is, unlike Avraham Avinu, whose role was to bring light, to bring G-dliness down from above, to reveal Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to reveal G-dliness in the world. All of that was light coming from above. Yitzchak’s avodah was the opposite: to engage with the darkness of the world, with the world as it is in itself—a place of darkness, a mundane place—to refine it and transform the world, so that its darkness would become light. That is why we find Yitzchak digging wells, as described in the parsha. The whole parsha,

15:41 the whole story, revolves around Yitzchak and his work of digging wells. What is the significance of digging wells? The Torah tells an entire story: one well, a second well, a third well, and another well, all the way to Be’er Sheva—all the wells Yitzchak dug. Digging wells is precisely a way of engaging with darkness. When digging a well, you stand in a place and see earth and stones, lifeless things covering it. It seems that is all the place contains. But when you are not daunted by that and begin digging—and digging does not mean bringing water from outside and pouring it in, for that is not a well. Rather, you dig and remove the earth, the leaves, all the barriers and all the obstacles, and discover that the place is actually a source of living water. That is a transformation of the darkness itself. By digging into the darkness, eventually the water bursts forth. It is precisely the digging and removal of every obstacle that causes a well of living water to spring from the ground. And these are genuine living waters, fit for every purpose, even for purification from impurity caused by contact with a corpse,

17:00 from the impurity of a niddah and from the impurity of a zav, as stated in the Mishnah and in halachah, and so on. In other words, digging wells specifically expresses Yitzchak’s avodah: engaging with the darkness in order to transform it and draw light from it, from below upward, rather than in the usual order. That is why Yitzchak is associated with darkness. Yitzchak’s role is to work with the darkness, to work through all the obstacles. It is precisely the work of refining the darkness that brings forth a greater light, a much deeper light. When light comes from above, it is the natural light, the light that comes in the ordinary way. But breaking through the darkness is a path with a greater advantage; this is “when light emerges from within darkness.” It is precisely through concealment that a much deeper light is brought forth. This was the distinctive quality of Yitzchak and Rivkah in this avodah: they worked with the darkness itself, transforming it and bringing out the depth within it, thereby revealing a much deeper light. That is why he was named Yitzchak, for “Elokim has made laughter for me.” That was the reason he was called Yitzchak. The Alter Rebbe explains that in “Elokim has made laughter for me,” Elokim is the name associated with gevurah, with concealment and darkness. That is the name Elokim. As is known, the name Havayah is the source of light,

18:30 the source of chesed, the source of mercy, while the name Elokim is the source of judgment and gevurah, the source of contraction. The numerical value of Elokim is the same as that of hateva, “nature.” And here it says, “Elokim has made laughter for me.” It is precisely through refining the name Elokim, refining nature, refining the darkness of the world—when one works with the world and removes its layers, digging to uncover the well of living water, the “well they dug,” digging and revealing what lies within and finding the living water. This is the truth of the living water; this is “Elokim has made laughter for me,” the true satisfaction and delight Above, far greater than what [unclear] would come from above. And why do we say “Elokim has made laughter for me”? As the Alter Rebbe explains in the name of the Maggid of Mezritch. What is the meaning of “Elokim has made laughter for me”? The Maggid gives the well-known parable, the parable called [unclear], of the talking bird. The Maggid gave a parable like this: “The hearts of kings are beyond searching.” Kings, great kings, were exceedingly exalted and lofty, and possessed [unclear] levels; their greatness was extraordinary. There was a time when the king stood in such loftiness and majesty, so distant that it was impossible to approach him and stir him to engage with anything connected to his nature. The king had to be aroused. When he is in a state of loftiness

19:46 and withdrawal, and one wants to draw him back, bringing him a great sage to speak words of wisdom to him will not necessarily stir the king. For the king’s loftiness is beyond comparison, and speaking words of wisdom to him has no effect on him. Bringing gold, silver, and precious stones does not stir him either; such things evoke nothing from the king. But when, as the Maggid says here, one brings the talking bird, called [unclear]—a bird, well, what is it called? Yes, a parrot. In any case, one brings this talking bird, which is a tiny bird. But it can repeat words that it hears. It even speaks, and this evokes a kind of laughter and delight in the king, drawing him into a state in which one can speak with him and lead him [unclear]. Seemingly, the talking bird’s speech is completely insignificant. After all, it says simple things. By contrast, here we are speaking of a great sage who speaks words of wisdom. Yet we can ask: What actually evokes laughter and delight in the king? Precisely the talking bird, this simple bird that speaks and says some little word, without even pronouncing it properly. But because it is something novel, something new

21:07 Twofold: this is not an ordinary thing. When a person speaks, what is the novelty? When a wise person speaks words of wisdom, what is the novelty? But the fact that a bird speaks—even if its speech is disjointed and has no real content—the very fact that the bird speaks is a remarkable novelty. And that novelty gives the king great delight, makes him laugh and draws him in. Along these lines, the Maggid explains “G-d has made laughter for me”: A Jew is in this world, amid darkness, concealment and obscurity, surrounded by [unclear] and all the concealment and obscurity of this dark world. He breaks through the darkness of this world, stirs and uncovers the well of living water, and brings out and reveals his inner self and his G-dly vitality, transforming the darkness. This is “G-d has made laughter for me.” This is the true delight, the pleasure brought Above. That is why the Gemara in Shabbos says that in the future, it is specifically to Yitzchak that they will say, “For you are our father.” The Gemara is not discussing precisely this point, but this is the idea: “They will say to Yitzchak, ‘For you are our father,’” because in the future, when Moshiach comes, the laughter will be revealed. Then “our mouths will be filled with laughter”; the greatest measure of the delight that Hakadosh Boruch Hu receives from our service, from the work of refining the world, and from the service

22:22 amid bittul, amid darkness, concealment and obscurity, will be revealed—“G-d has made laughter for me.” This is why they will say it specifically to Yitzchak. This was the idea behind digging the wells, which [unclear], which Avraham dug: it is precisely through working in the sand and mud that the true inner light, the essential light, is revealed. This is the light of Moshiach, which is revealed specifically out of the darkness of exile. Along these lines, the verse later in the parsha says, “May G-d give you of the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth.” Here the question is asked: Why is the name Elokim used here? Yitzchak our father is giving blessings. He wanted to give them to Eisav, and later gave them to Yaakov; he is giving him extraordinary blessings. These are the greatest, deepest and loftiest blessings. Yitzchak’s blessings are even loftier than Avraham’s. So first, how is it that Yitzchak in particular has such lofty blessings? How does that come about? Yes, the loftiest blessing comes specifically from him. Second, “May G-d give you”—the name Elokim. Havayah, the name of mercy, is the source of blessings, whereas the name Elokim is the source of judgment and constriction. But the answer is that this is precisely the point [unclear]. Because Yitzchak’s service was in the realm of gevurah, and it was a service carried out amid darkness and concealment, he had the power to break through the darkness and concealment. Thus, “May G-d give you”: specifically from concealment comes the greatest and deepest light, and from there the blessings flow forth with strength.

23:54 In the sense of intensification: not gevurah as constriction, but gevurah as intensification—the intensification of the blessings, the intensification of what flows forth. As discussed in the Alter Rebbe’s well-known maamar, “To Understand the Matter of Shofar-Blowing According to the Baal Shem Tov’s Intention,” where, at the end of the maamar, he says that all aspects of shofar-blowing are connected specifically with Yitzchak, [unclear]. Yes, because the greatest, deepest and loftiest blessing came through Yitzchak our father. When the gevurot are sweetened and concealment is transformed into light, the most deeply hidden light is revealed. This helps us understand what the Midrash says: “May G-d give you of the dew of heaven”—“of the dew of heaven” refers to Scripture; “and the richness of the earth” refers to Mishnah. The Midrash goes on to say that these refer to Talmud and halachos. In other words, the blessing included not only material things, but all spiritual matters and Torah as well. The Rebbe Rashab asks in Hemshech 5666: Seemingly, Torah was given from Above. So what does it mean that Yitzchak’s blessing, “May G-d give you of the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth,” brought forth the giving of the Torah? Based on what we have said, we can understand it: the Torah given from Above is the light of Torah, Torah given as a gift. But as for toil in Torah—Yitzchak our father, whose service followed the path of gevurah, the path of darkness, brought a new blessing: that

25:24 when a Jew toils in Torah, toiling in a manner of [unclear], exerting himself through many, many questions, and studies Torah in the manner of the Babylonian Talmud, which is full of questions and challenges—and through those questions and challenges reaches the depths of Torah—“He has placed me in darkness” refers to the Babylonian Talmud—through that toil, one reveals a new light. “You have toiled and found”: a new flow of light, a new depth in Torah. This was granted specifically through Yitzchak’s blessings, in “May G-d give you of the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth.” This is the point that Parshas Toldos comes to tell us: the service of Yitzchak in particular. And this is the principal service connected with our work at the end of the exile. When a Jew finds himself in a time of darkness, concealment and obscurity, he does not need to—and not only does he not need to retreat, G-d forbid—he does not need to be daunted by the darkness, concealment and obscurity. On the contrary, the parsha tells us that specifically through [unclear], specifically from within the concealment and obscurity, we break through and reach the revelation of the greatest and deepest light, a light that originates on far loftier levels. This is Yitzchak’s level: the revelation of the light of the future. Yes, “May G-d give you of the dew of heaven and the richness of the earth”—all the loftiest revelations, which come about specifically through concealment, obscurity and darkness. And this

26:47 is connected with all the Yomim Tovim of the month of Kislev, which we are now entering. Kislev has Yomim Tovim connected with the liberation of the teachings of Chassidus. In Kislev, the Maggid of Mezritch passed away, and this year marks 250 years since his passing. There is also the Yom Tov of 19 Kislev, the Alter Rebbe’s liberation—the Yom Tov that is the Rosh Hashanah of Chassidus—and the liberation of the Mitteler Rebbe. And so it is with the liberations of Kislev. In general, all the Yomim Tovim of Kislev express the same point: there was a period of concealment and obscurity, a state of darkness, a state of constraint, a state of [unclear], a state of concealment. And specifically through that descent, a new light was revealed. As is well known, and as brought in a number of sichos, [unclear] of the Rebbe Rashab, through the concealment and the accusation of 19 Kislev, not only was the light not diminished; on the contrary, it brought about the true “spreading of your wellsprings outward.” From here we move toward the true revelations of the future Geulah. So let us draw on the greatness of these days, in those days at this time, and pray and ask that, with Hashem’s help, we merit that even in the period we are in now, a time of darkness, concealment and obscurity, not only will we not fall, heaven forbid, into bitterness because of it, but

28:02 on the contrary, it will stir within us a deeper [unclear] and a deeper [unclear] to engage in “spreading your wellsprings outward,” in studying Chassidus and spreading Chassidus, and to prepare the world for the revelation of G-dliness in the future. May we already be in the complete Geulah, when “G-d has made laughter for me” and “our mouths will be filled with laughter,” speedily in our days, through Moshiach Tzidkeinu.