Shemos - Living Geulah in the Days of Golus - Rabbi Asher Perkesh

00:02 I heard a story from the well-known chossid Reb Mendel Futerfas, of blessed memory. He told of something that happened to him personally. He was a young boy at the time, in the early years after the Communists took power in Russia. They began imposing terrible decrees, closing yeshivos and chadarim, and arresting and imprisoning anyone suspected of activities against the government, or of teaching Torah to children, and the like. Reb Mendel Futerfas related that he was studying Torah with a group of young boys. They had a teacher, and they sat and learned together. One day, the police discovered where they were learning. The officers came in and took the teacher and the children. They were all arrested and put in prison. Incidentally, they were still young children, and under the law they could not yet be fined or punished. Nevertheless, they were detained for a time, put in prison, interrogated, and pressured. The police, of course, wanted to exploit the young children’s vulnerability to extract information from them, down to the smallest details: where the chassidim were, what they were doing, and where. They wanted to learn all these things from them. To that end, they did

01:47 whatever they could: all sorts of things that caused them suffering and fear, things meant to frighten and hurt the children so they would reveal everything the police wanted to know. Of course, the children stood firm. Every member of the group—each of whom, incidentally, was held separately—held out and said nothing. They did not open their mouths to say anything that might harm any of the chassidim. After some time, they were all released and allowed to leave. Later, when they spoke among themselves, they realized that they had all reached the same conclusion: although they had been in danger and had endured suffering there, which they felt keenly, they had nevertheless all experienced an extraordinary sense of joy and expansiveness of spirit. Not one of the children had felt that he was, poor thing, in a state of pain, sadness, and bitterness. On the contrary, they had felt extraordinary joy and peace of mind. They discussed this among themselves and could not understand where they had found such strength. Years passed. Reb Mendel went on to relate that when he left Russia, almost fifty years later, he met his father-in-law, one of the well-known chassidim who had shown self-sacrifice, Reb Bentzion

03:30 Shemtov. They talked about various matters and stories, and came to this one. Reb Mendel told him how they had felt that peace of mind despite everything that had happened there. Reb Bentzion Shemtov said, “I’ll tell you why.” He related that when word came that the children and their teacher had been taken and arrested, the matter was immediately brought, of course, to the Nasi, the Rebbe at the time, the Frierdiker Rebbe. They told him what had happened and gave him the names of all the children who had been arrested. The Frierdiker Rebbe gestured like this and said: “They have nothing to fear, because the Alter Rebbe, the Mitteler Rebbe, the Tzemach Tzedek, the Rebbe Maharash, and my father, the Rebbe”—meaning the Rebbe Rashab—“are with them.” Then the Rebbe gestured like this, and they understood. “Ah, so you see,” Reb Bentzion Shemtov told Reb Mendel Futerfas, “if all our Rebbeim, our Nesi’im, were there with you, it is understandable why you did not feel the pain and suffering, but were joyful and glad of heart.” In today’s parsha, Parshas Shemos, we begin reading about exile. Our entire parsha,

05:07 through the end of Parshas Shemos, deals with the Jewish people in the Egyptian exile, and with the immense suffering and pain of that exile: “They made the children of Israel work with crushing labor.” The Torah recounts the whole story of that grueling labor—how it unfolded, how the Jewish people worked and toiled, poor things, and all the terrible suffering they endured in Egypt. That is what our parsha is about overall, right to its end. But in the Midrash we find something interesting. On the opening words of the parsha, “And these are the names of the children of Israel who came to Egypt with Yaakov; each man and his household came,” followed by the names Reuven, Shimon, Levi, Yehudah, and so on, the Midrash says that all the names mentioned in the parsha “were named for the redemption of Israel.” That is what the Midrash says. And when we look closely at the Midrash, a major question arises: Why are the names of the tribes mentioned here? We already know their names; they have appeared several times in the preceding parshiyos. Why does the Torah list them again? The Midrash answers that the names are mentioned here because they allude to the redemption of Israel. It explains the meaning of each name—Reuven, Shimon, Levi—and how the redemption of Israel is alluded to in every one of the tribes’ names. And not only the redemption from Egypt, but also the future redemption, as

06:45 the Midrash says, for example, concerning Yosef: Why was he named Yosef? Because “Hashem will again” redeem them. In addition to the redemption from Egypt, there will be another redemption: the true and complete Geulah through Moshiach Tzidkeinu. Then “Hashem will again” bring the Jewish people out of exile—out of the second exile and the third exile—and this will be the true and complete Geulah. All of this is alluded to at the beginning of the parsha. And this raises a question: How does that fit here? We are only at the beginning of Parshas Shemos, and the entire parsha speaks openly about exile. The Jewish people descend to Egypt and are enslaved, subjected to crushing labor and suffering: “The Egyptians made the children of Israel work with crushing labor,” bitter, grueling labor, and “they embittered their lives,” along with all the other details in the parsha. From beginning to end, it is a parsha of exile. And precisely here the Midrash says, “They were named for the redemption of Israel.” “In the very midst of darkness” [unclear], says the Midrash. What place does redemption have when one is in exile? The Torah is hinting to us here at something remarkable and profound, something essential for the time when the Jewish people are in exile. This begins with the first exile, when they went down to Egypt, and from it we learn about every exile up to this last one—the long, bitter exile in which we find ourselves, especially now that we are in the footsteps of Moshiach.

08:25 As the Gemara says, the period of the footsteps of Moshiach is the hardest period of the hardest exile. Nevertheless, the Torah comes and sheds light for us, telling us that precisely in this bitter, difficult exile, the names are “for the redemption of Israel.” In other words, even in exile, a Jew lives in a way that is a foretaste and an example of Geulah, though he is still in exile. When a Jew looks more deeply and lives with an inner awareness—and especially when Moshe Rabbeinu is with us, as we see in the parsha: the parsha speaks about Moshe Rabbeinu, and Moshe, the shepherd, enters Egypt—he already begins to sense the [unclear]. Even within exile, one feels the light of Geulah: “They were named for the redemption of Israel.” To understand the depth of this idea, there is a teaching whose foundation appears in Me’or Einayim. Rabbi Nochum of Chernobyl discusses it at length, and it is discussed extensively in the Rebbe’s sichos. This was the last Shabbos Parshas Shemos on which we merited to hear Torah from the Rebbe, in 5752. On that Shabbos Parshas Shemos there was a very rich [unclear], in which the Rebbe spoke about this at length. The basic idea is...

09:56 In the Mishnah in Tractate Berachos, which we also recite in the Pesach Haggadah: “Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah said: I am like a man of seventy years, yet I did not merit to establish that the Exodus from Egypt should be mentioned at night.” Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah says, “I am like a man of seventy years,” and he wants to bring about the recitation of the Exodus from Egypt not only by day but also at night. As the Gemara tells us in Tractate Berachos, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah was appointed Nasi on that very day. As the familiar story goes, they chose Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, who was a young man. He was only eighteen years old, and yet they chose him to be Nasi. That is why he said, “I am like a man of seventy years.” He was not seventy; he was eighteen. But because he was to be appointed Nasi then, as the Gemara relates, white hairs grew on him, and he came to look like a seventy-year-old man. On the very day Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah was appointed Nasi, he said, “I am like a man of seventy years.” He wanted to bring about the recitation of the Exodus from Egypt by the Jewish people at night as well—that is, in Shema, not only in the morning Shema but also in the evening Shema. For, as is well known, the mitzvah of

11:29 We fulfill the mitzvah of remembering the Exodus from Egypt when we read the passage of tzitzis: “I am Hashem your G-d, Who brought you out of the land of Egypt.” From this we learn that reading it fulfills the mitzvah of remembering the Exodus. During the day, there is a mitzvah of tzitzis, so we say the passage. At night, however, when according to Torah law it is not the time for tzitzis, it would follow that there is no need to say the passage about the Exodus from Egypt. So Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah says that he wants to establish that the Exodus from Egypt be mentioned at night. Then Ben Zoma came and expounded the verse; Ben Zoma revealed the secret: “‘The days of your life’—the days; ‘all the days of your life’—to include the nights.” The Mishnah continues: “The Sages say: ‘The days of your life’—this world; ‘all the days of your life’—to include the days of Moshiach.” At first glance, when you look at the Mishnah, that changes how you understand it. Some want to say that the Sages disagree with Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah. But Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah agrees with what the Sages say as well. Yes, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah and Ben Zoma say, “‘The days of your life’—the days; ‘all the days of your life’—the nights.” And the Sages agree that “the days of your life” actually includes both days and nights. If so, what does “all the days of your life” add? “To include the days of Moshiach”—that the Exodus from Egypt will be mentioned even in the days of Moshiach. This brings the point out plainly. First of all, what is all the fuss about? Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah is so intent on establishing that the Exodus from Egypt be mentioned not only by day but also at night.

13:01 Seemingly, this is a mitzvah like any other: a person has to remember the Exodus from Egypt, and, like any mitzvah observed primarily during the day, he fulfills the mitzvah. So what does he want so badly? Why is he so preoccupied with it? Why is he making such a commotion? What is so urgent to him? Why did he set out to establish that this mitzvah in particular, remembering the Exodus from Egypt, be observed not only by day but also at night? Why does it matter so much to him? And when does he tell us this? Precisely on the day he became the nasi. Just then it occurs to him to say that he wants the Exodus from Egypt to be mentioned at night. Also, what is the connection to “I am like a seventy-year-old man”? Why does Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah say that? On the day he becomes nasi, he comes and says, “I am like a seventy-year-old man,” and wants to establish that the Exodus from Egypt be mentioned at night. Then we need to understand the connection to what follows, “The Sages say”: not only at night but also [unclear], not only [unclear] but even in the days of Moshiach, the Exodus from Egypt is mentioned. What is the central explanation of all this? As explained, the central point is that mentioning the Exodus from Egypt is a matter of Geulah. In other words, when a Jew fulfills the mitzvah of remembering the Exodus from Egypt, it does not mean only that he says the words “the Exodus from Egypt” and thereby recalls it, just as

14:32 But rather, it is specifically [unclear]; it is not that he experiences this only at night. As the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya, chapter 47: “In every generation and on every single day, a person must see himself as though he left Egypt today.” A Jew experiences leaving Egypt this very day; it is not merely a matter of remembering the past. That is the point of the night: a Jew is in exile, in darkness, in bitter exile among the nations of the world, and “because of our sins we were exiled from our land.” We are in such a bitter exile—both an external exile and an internal exile in matters of serving Hashem. How can a Jew bring himself into a state that is something of a foretaste of Geulah? Through the Exodus from Egypt. For the Exodus from Egypt means not only leaving Egypt, but Geulah itself: bringing oneself into a state that is something of a foretaste of the true and complete Geulah. That is what Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah comes to say. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah lived at the beginning of the exile. The Jews had then entered—this is the historical setting—the first period immediately after the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. The long, bitter exile had begun, and Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah was among the first nesi’im of that period, immediately after the destruction of the Second Beis Hamikdash. The Jews were going through a very difficult time, and as nasi he knew that this was a bitter exile, [unclear]. So he wanted to lift them into a state that was something of a foretaste of Geulah, so that Jews, while in exile—

16:11 not just any exile, but the exile of Edom, with all its bitterness and darkness—could, even within that exile, stand in a state that was something of a foretaste of the Exodus from Egypt. And so Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, on the very day he was appointed nasi, the day he became nasi, brought them into a state that was something of a foretaste of Geulah. For that is the role of a nasi: nasi is related to the word for elevation. He stands above the world, above the exile. And the nasi is connected to the first nasi, Moshe Rabbeinu, the first redeemer and the final redeemer. So he establishes this: he wants to lift the Jews into a state that is something of a foretaste of Geulah, so that even amid deep, compounded darkness, even in exile, one can nevertheless live with Geulah. That is why he comes and says, “I am like a seventy-year-old man.” The seventy years are significant because the number seventy is connected, on one hand, with exile: the seventy wolves, the seventy nations. When the Jewish people were in Egypt, they numbered seventy souls. Those seventy souls were [unclear] the Jewish people. The seventy souls were meant to be among the seventy nations: Jews would go into exile and find themselves among all seventy nations, and there they could illuminate, awaken and release the sparks of holiness, transforming the world into a dwelling place for Him, may He be blessed. For that, a holy power is needed.

17:45 And where do we get that power? From whom? From the nasi of each generation, Moshe Rabbeinu. Moshe is the first redeemer, and similarly, in every generation there is the nasi of that generation. Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah comes and enters the exile, the long and bitter exile. And he says, “I am like a seventy-year-old man.” It is specifically the number seventy: one must [unclear] from the seventy nations, and one must work to determine what will become of them. That is, the Hebrew letter ayin has the numerical value of seventy. And ayin alludes to “eye to eye they will see when Hashem returns to Zion”—the eyes that will see the light of Geulah. Moshiach will come, and then “all flesh together will see.” Eye to eye. To reach that ayin, one must enter exile and transform the darkness of the nations. Thus, “I am like a seventy-year-old man”: Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah comes and wants to enable a Jew to mention the Exodus from Egypt during the days. When the days are bright, certainly he can leave his limitations and constraints, leave his straits and confines. But that is not the innovation; the innovation is at night. Even when we are in times of darkness, times that are nights, when it is dark and gloomy—dark materially, dark in [unclear], dark with the bitterness of exile’s darkness—[unclear] with the nasi, with the Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah of that generation, he lifts a Jew to the point

19:21 where even at night a Jew can live with the drive to leave Egypt, to break free of limitations and constraints. At this the Sages come and say: “‘All the days of your life’—to include the days of Moshiach.” The point in this world is that a Jew is connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is what the maamar says: one can live with Geulah even while in exile, in this world, through daas. [unclear]. The nature of exile is that daas is in exile. And for a Jew, this is the matter of daas; a person is more grounded in that awareness. What is daas? As the Alter Rebbe explains, daas means bonding and connection—being connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And one remembers Hakadosh Boruch Hu, [unclear]. This is what remembering means: a Jew remembers that [unclear]. He remembers that Hashem is “the Creator and Ruler of the world”; he remembers the word of Hashem that brings everything into being, gives it life and sustains it at every moment. He lives with Hakadosh Boruch Hu and with the sense that everything is Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s world. When a Jew lives this way, that is “all the days of your life”—in this world. He can be in this world, but this world is illuminated for him; within this world itself, he is in a state of Geulah. There is light in “the days of his life”; he lives with Moshiach in this world, he lives with Geulah in this world. And then they add: “‘All the days of your life’—to include the days of Moshiach.” And the meaning, as he explains in the maamar, is that “‘all the days of your life’—to include the days of Moshiach” is explained

21:00 According to the teaching of the Baal Shem Tov. The Baal Shem Tov’s well-known teaching, which the Rebbe cites several times in his works, is that every Jew has a spark of Moshiach. This means that deep within every Jew’s soul there is a spark of Moshiach, but it is in exile; it is hidden. A Jew’s task is to remember that he must bring it out of concealment and into the open. When a Jew reveals the spark of Moshiach deep within his soul and lives with it—lives with the awareness and feeling that he is connected to Hashem—he is, as a result, above the exile, above the darkness, above everything that conceals and obscures. When a Jew reveals this spark, he awakens the spark of Moshiach within him. This is “all the days of your life—to bring the days of Moshiach”: to awaken this spark, to awaken the part of Moshiach within him. And when all Jews together—when each Jew reveals the Moshiach within his soul—we merit the coming of Moshiach in actuality, that individual from the House of David who will be Moshiach ben David. In this connection, the Rebbe explains what he heard from his father, the renowned Kabbalist Reb Leivik, who said that this is the meaning of “all the days of your life—to bring the days of Moshiach”: that the inner meaning

22:35 of these words is that “all the days of your life”—a Jew, throughout his entire life, all the days of his life, must live with “bringing the days of Moshiach.” Every day, in every detail and action, in every thought, word, and deed, he must reflect and consider carefully whether this action brings the true and complete Geulah. He should act in every matter in a way that reveals its connection to the Moshiach within him. Yes, he should awaken and reveal within himself the awareness that everything is a preparation for the true and complete Geulah. The Rebbe concludes that this applies to every mitzvah, every simple matter, every action and every word, every thought and deed, at the barbershop [unclear], in connection with the Geulah. This is “all the days of your life”: a Jew must use his entire life, and every detail of his life, for this purpose, with the aim that through this action, this word, and this thought, he brings the true and complete Geulah. In fact, this is the intent of the Rambam’s words in the Laws of Repentance: a Jew must use every thought, word, and deed as a preparation for bringing the true and complete Geulah. “A person should always see himself as equally balanced, and the whole world as equally balanced.” Through his own action, word, and thought, he tips the scales for himself and the entire world toward merit and brings deliverance—he brings the complete Geulah. And—

24:01 This is the story of the parsha, Parshas Shemos. On the face of it, this is a parsha of exile. But when we look at it according to its inner meaning, it is as the Midrash says: “They were named for the redemption of Israel.” [unclear] the spark of Moshiach within my soul, [unclear]. And this we receive [unclear] from our Rebbe, [unclear]. And in this way, the nasi, the nasi of each generation. And the nasi is [unclear]. So it is indeed possible to be in a state of exile and, at the same time, to be in a state of Geulah. And the reason we must [unclear] the inner Geulah is that this must happen immediately, truly, very soon: the true and complete Geulah. As the Rambam writes, [unclear] every action, word, and thought brings the Geulah [unclear]. And the Rambam concludes his work: [unclear] awaits his coming, [unclear] at every moment, so that every action you take brings the true and complete Geulah. [unclear] This is the [unclear] of the Rambam. And [unclear] seventy years. [unclear] with the true and complete Geulah. So it must happen immediately. And the Rambam concludes his work: “At that time there will be neither famine nor war, neither envy nor competition, for good will flow in abundance and all delicacies will be as plentiful as dust. The occupation of the entire world will be solely to know Hashem. Therefore, the Jewish people will be great sages, knowing hidden matters, and they will attain knowledge of their Creator to the extent of human capacity, as it is said: ‘For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of Hashem as the waters cover the sea.’” The true and complete Geulah, speedily in our days.