Parshas Korach (5785) - Gimmel Tammuz, The Power of Teshuvah

00:00 They tell a story about the chossid Rabbi Reuven Dunin, who was one of the Rebbe’s people and one of the Rebbe’s shluchim in Israel, in Haifa. As a young man, he had been far from Judaism and had become involved in undesirable things, [unclear]. Later, he made a profound return to Judaism. This was in 5718–5719. Around that time, he came to Kfar Chabad. After several months studying in the yeshiva under Rabbi Shlomo Chaim Kesselman, the mashpia in Kfar Chabad, he traveled to the Rebbe. He received special permission, which was not customary in such cases, to stay near the Rebbe for several months—about six months. He was truly one of those who experienced the Rebbe’s response to his return firsthand. He merited special yechidus meetings and special closeness. He could go in without arranging a time in advance, without asking permission. Whenever he felt he needed to, he could enter the Rebbe’s room for yechidus. He could come to the Rebbe with a particular matter and receive specific guidance on every detail of his work of teshuvah, of putting things right. Many stories are told about him, many of them by him personally from that period. One story he told was this: As is known, every year on the night of Simchas Torah, the Rebbe would conduct the seder. Afterward, the Rebbe would come for hakafos. It was late, after midnight, and he would go to the meal only during the day. Very early, at about six in the morning, the Rebbe would come into the hall. The crowd was still dancing from the night’s hakafos, and the Rebbe would begin to sing a niggun. That was the practice for several years in the early years: the Rebbe would begin singing one of the well-known niggunim he had taught. That year, on Simchas Torah 5719, the Rebbe sang a niggun

02:21 that the chassidim call “Shamil.” It is a deeply felt, profound and lyrical niggun, a niggun of longing. That was the niggun the Rebbe sang on Simchas Torah. At the farbrengen, the Rebbe explained it afterward: Once the seder had ended, there was a farbrengen on Simchas Torah, after sunset, which continued late into the night. At the farbrengen, the Rebbe explained the details of the story, its meaning and its central point. In brief, Shamil was a man who led a whole group of fierce people, fierce tribes who lived in the Caucasus Mountains. Those mountains later became part of Russia. There, Shamil led an entire band of fierce people who roamed the mountains. When Russia wanted to conquer the whole Caucasus region, it ran into trouble, because the tribespeople were fierce—truly fierce. They lived in the mountains and did as they pleased. It was very hard to conquer the area. The Russians, with their army and soldiers, were down below, while the tribes were up on the high, towering mountains. What could they do? They devised an elaborate scheme to capture them, to capture these fierce people. They pretended that they wanted, as they say, to make peace with them, sign a peace treaty, declare peace—not fight them, but live together with them. They worked out an elaborate scheme, went up into the mountains, [unclear], and in a brief battle conquered the entire tribe and took everyone away on foot, [unclear], and so on. Shamil, who headed the group, was arrested and put in prison. The prison where they put him [unclear].

04:31 There was only a garden, [unclear], that he could see. And this was one of the niggunim he used to sing. The Rebbe related then that the niggun was preserved and eventually reached the chassidim. As is known, some of the Baal Shem Tov’s students would take niggunim belonging to other nations and knew how to refine the sparks of holiness within them—as is explained in the books of Chassidus. They elevated this niggun to holiness and used it to express the soul’s longing. For Shamil, the niggun he composed was a niggun of longing: he missed the mountains, the time when he was free as a bird and lived among them. Those were the words the Rebbe used at that farbrengen. He had roamed and wandered through the mountains like a free bird, and now he sat in prison, shut inside a pit. The niggun expresses his longing, his deep yearning for the time when he had lived in freedom. The niggun has three parts. They express his longing for his former state, the heartbreak of his present situation, and, in contrast, hope. The niggun ends on a note of hope.

05:47 A powerful hope, which he lived with, along with the confidence that in the end he would be able to leave this imprisonment, this prison, and return to living like a free bird on the high mountains. The Rebbe explained the entire niggun in terms of the avodah of the month of Tishrei, which follows the month of Elul—the avodah of teshuvah. The Rebbe said that this niggun expresses all the soul’s longing for G-dliness. The soul had been above. While above, it is like a free bird, because that is the soul’s freedom: without the limitations of the body, the animal soul and the materiality of this world, the world of kelipah, which it bears. There the soul has the greatest freedom, serving Hakadosh Boruch Hu without any limitations, united with the Infinite, blessed be He. When the soul descends here below and becomes clothed in a body and an animal soul, it descends from a lofty height into a deep pit, a deep abyss, surrounded by all the confines and limitations of the yetzer hara and the animal soul—especially if it has also stumbled in matters that, Heaven forbid, it should not have. All of this is expressed in the niggun, [unclear]. For the soul is filled with deep thirst and longing, and wants to return to those waters

07:04 [unclear], so that it can connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu—“My soul thirsts for You”—and connect with G-dliness without any limitations. Here, he says, there is longing on the one hand and heartbreak on the other. At the same time, the niggun ends with this hope and confidence: that in the end, one can emerge from this imprisonment of the body, connect with G-dliness and return to the Infinite, to that which has no limits. For the soul connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, particularly when the true and complete Geulah comes through Moshiach Tzidkeinu. Then we will be in true unity—“He will raise us up, and we will live in His presence”—with the Infinite, blessed be He. That is, more or less, what the Rebbe spoke about at that Simchas Torah farbrengen, and perhaps also subsequently on Shabbos Bereishis. The Rebbe added explanations of various points and details, precise features of the niggun: how we should sing it, and how the soul’s longing is expressed in it. And how it should be sung—the niggun proceeds in the manner of a “still, small voice.” There are many details in the way each part of the niggun expresses the soul’s longing for G-dliness, together with the strong hope and confidence that in the end it will be possible to attain true teshuvah and connect with the Infinite, blessed be He. Reb Reuven, you know, was at that time

08:22 in the midst of his period of teshuvah. He was working intensely on himself every day in his avodah of teshuvah, and the Rebbe would give him instructions, guidance and advice for what he was going through and for his teshuvah, with joy and gladness of heart. The Rebbe would always stress this to him before each trip, when he came for yechidus before traveling—and this happened dozens of times, perhaps even more. Each time, the Rebbe would guide him regarding the main approach and strongly emphasize that, alongside the effort involved in the avodah, the avodah had to be done with joy and gladness of heart. That was a point the Rebbe emphasized greatly. He relates that at one of his last yechidus meetings before he left, after the period of Tishrei, when it was already time for him to return—and in Tishrei, [unclear], he had to return to Israel—the Rebbe instructed him to return to that same place and carry out his shlichus there in the world, to illuminate the place and bring the wellsprings of Torah and Chassidus there, and so on. At that yechidus, he cried a great deal. Among other things, he told the Rebbe that he had heard the niggun, with its whole atmosphere and the parable the Rebbe had spoken about at that Simchas Torah farbrengen. But from the niggun, he understood that he himself was in that very situation; from the story behind the niggun, he

09:39 He understood something that made his heart ache. The Rebbe had said that the story of Shimon—as the Rebbe once told it—was that he remained that way for fifteen, twelve years. In other words, he had suffered an obvious downfall: he had failed in his actions, and it was already beyond repair. He never recovered from his situation, but remained in that state until his last day. When you apply this to serving Hashem, it would seem that a person can sometimes fail many times, reach a very bad state, sink very low, fall very far, until there is no longer any way to make things right. As he put it—“I need to run to the Rebbe”—he expressed it in Hebrew and said: “A total downfall.” In other words, it could be a downfall, but a total one, with no way back. And he cried very, very hard; of course, he understood it as applying to himself, to his personal situation at the time. The Rebbe reassured him greatly then. Among the things the Rebbe told him was: You need to understand that the story, as it reached chassidim and as chassidim use it, is

10:58 only a parable. And as with every parable, as explained in Chassidus regarding parables, when studying one you must always consider which point in the parable corresponds to what it is meant to illustrate, and which details of the parable apply to it. That is the proper way to study parables, especially according to Chassidus. So it is clear that the main point we are meant to take from this niggun is hope: this is how the soul should yearn for G-dliness. And the main thing, the Rebbe said, is specifically the third verse of the niggun, in which hope must be heard. One must always remember that there is hope and confidence. When it comes to the soul, the soul is truly a part of G-d above, and that is its greatness—that it is truly a part of G-d above. The soul always has the ability to return and rise; there is never any real limit on it. In the physical world, as in Shimon’s story, we are speaking about a physical act: a person might find himself back in the situation into which he was taken, and remain stuck there. But the soul is inherently free; it is, in essence, a part of G-d above. It always has the ability to return, rise, and take its place. This is a wonderful principle, especially in light of the explanations the Rebbe mentions on this subject.

12:35 In Parshas Korach, we find a remarkable expression of the power of teshuvah. How, in general, are we to understand the story of Korach? In particular, as is known, what happened with the sons of Korach is the opposite of what one might have expected. Rashi says in our parsha that “a place was secured for them in Gehinnom,” and later Shmuel the prophet descended from them—with all the details of the story. Rashi says that Korach relied on this when he decided to wage a dispute against Moshe Rabbeinu. And Rashi says, “His eye misled him”; he saw it through ruach hakodesh. As we know, Korach was no ordinary person. He was a very elevated person. How, then, do we understand all this? It is bewildering: What happened here? The whole matter of the sons of Korach is not understood at all. It is a very puzzling story. First, let us try to understand what happened. On the one hand, they fell along with everyone else. On the other hand, there is this puzzling statement: “A place was secured for them in Gehinnom.” How did they do teshuvah? If they did teshuvah, they should have been forgiven and remained among everyone else. And if they did not do teshuvah, what would this have accomplished? Or was their teshuvah already too late, after it had happened?

15:55 So what is the story? Did a special miracle take place, allowing them to remain alive inside the earth, in the depths, and return only after 40 years? Why, then, does the parsha not speak about it? How can this entire story not appear in our parsha at all? The whole matter appears in the verse “But the sons of Korach did not die,” even though the account of what happened to Korach and his sons should have been completed here. In today’s parsha, we see none of this, not even a hint. Rashi discusses it, but where does he discuss it at length, and where does Rashi expound on it in detail? In Parshas Pinchas, only 3–4 parshas later. Why did the Torah relate it specifically as a side point? There, the Torah tells us what happened in the census of the Jewish people. It tells us about the census and the Jewish people’s entry into Eretz Yisroel after 40 years, 39 years. What connection is there between what happened to the sons of Korach and the account of the census? As Rashi says, this is about those who remained: “But you who cleave to Hashem your G-d are all alive today.” Verses like these speak about the generation that entered Eretz Yisroel, after the entire generation of the desert had died. Only now does the Torah tell us, “But the sons of Korach did not die,” and Rashi relates the

17:19 details of the story. What is going on here? The whole episode is difficult to understand. Here the Rebbe explained a very rich point in a sicha, one that brings out the great depth of the power of teshuvah. The point is this: What actually happened to the sons of Korach? Outwardly, the sons of Korach were part of Korach’s family and of his entire assembly. They were part of the dispute against Moshe Rabbeinu; they took part in leading the dispute and turned everything upside down against Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon the Kohen—with all the details of the story. They waged a dispute. That is why the terrible thing happened, G-d forbid, which the parsha tells us about: “They perished from among the congregation.” But what happened? At the last moment they felt how broken things had become. They sensed the distance from Moshe Rabbeinu that their actions had caused, and a thought of teshuvah arose within them. It was a genuine thought of teshuvah, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu accepted it. Hakadosh Boruch Hu accepted it. So there were two opposing realities here: outwardly, they were part of Korach’s assembly and had waged war against Moshe Rabbeinu. Consequently, outwardly, in this world, they could not remain in it, because they had waged a war, a dispute, against Moshe

18:45 and Aharon the Kohen. Consequently, in that generation and at that time, they could not remain in the world. Their conduct was the complete opposite of the reality they were meant to strive for. One must be connected to Moshe Rabbeinu in order to fulfill the purpose of the journey through the desert. And because they were part of the dispute, “they perished from among the congregation.” This showed how utterly unacceptable a dispute is, and how utterly unacceptable a dispute against Aharon and Moshe is, along with all the explanations given in the seforim for the severe punishment that took place. On the other hand, because they had a thought of teshuvah, and it was genuine, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu accepted it, the punishment too was measure for measure. Outwardly, “they perished.” This is the precise wording of the parsha: “They perished from among the congregation.” Their perishing was from among the congregation, before the congregation’s eyes, because the congregation needed to receive the message clearly: One must know that it is forbidden to wage war against Moshe Rabbeinu and Aharon the Kohen. That is why “they perished from among the congregation.” But on the other hand, they had a thought of teshuvah. So outwardly they “perished” and fell inside

20:02 along with the others. But inwardly, because they had a thought of teshuvah, a place was secured for them in the depths. As the verse in the parsha says: “They and all that belonged to them went down alive into the depths”—they are in the depths, and yet they are alive. They are still there, still there, still there [unclear]. Even in their state, when there is a movement toward teshuvah, that thought of teshuvah [unclear], and because of it a place was secured for them. Later, when the time comes, they can leave there. They can return to the world and are given another opportunity to accomplish something. And [unclear], when they come after their sons, and all of this, everyone is connected to the voice that was heard during the episode of Korach. They were united with that voice, and consequently they remained. Death—nothing more. Yes, the Jews [unclear], the voice that was heard during the episode of Korach did not remain, and consequently they did not die; rather, they had to return to the world. They reentered the course of life, so that they could go up to Eretz Yisroel and build families. And from this came all the [unclear] of the sons of Korach, of the sons of Yosef, and of Shmuel the prophet: all great people. They also stood on the platform, with all that this involved. And this was the rectification of Korach and the rectification of the sons of Korach.

21:28 From here we see something remarkable: how great the power of teshuvah is. In the weekly parsha, we can reflect on these details and see how deep and how far the power of teshuvah reaches. Although it was only a thought of teshuvah, it brought about a complete change from one extreme to the other. Even as they descended into the pit, a place was made for them. This gave them the strength to do teshuvah and remain alive, as we said, and to live in a healthy way. Later they could return to the world, illuminate it, build families, and rectify their father’s sin, as in the story of the two Tannaim [unclear]. Here we see how much a Jew’s thought of teshuvah accomplishes. As it says in Hayom Yom for Gimmel Tammuz—and the details there also speak of [unclear]—how far a Jew’s power reaches. The Rebbe puts it this way [unclear]: a Jew is not given strengths beyond [unclear], especially in spiritual matters. Teshuvah [unclear] is a very great teshuvah, and this power lifts a person from the lowest depths to the greatest heights. Incidentally, in Chassidus, through Hayom Yom itself [unclear].

22:51 That power alone is still not enough; afterward, it must be brought into action, into matters of [unclear], goodness, a single deed [unclear]. But when that movement is there, it is a good beginning. It takes a person out of a lowly state and lifts him up, and he is given the strength to do teshuvah and serve Hashem with joy and a glad heart. This relates to what Rashi says about the weekly parsha. In his first comment, on the verse “And Korach took,” Rashi says, “This parsha is beautifully expounded in the Midrash of Rabbi Tanchuma.” The Rebbe addressed several points about this in a sicha. It is not Rashi’s usual way to say such things, especially since Rashi deals with the plain meaning of Scripture. When Rashi cites a Midrash, he brings only what relates to the plain meaning. Here, however, Rashi begins with a most unusual introduction. He opens by telling us that we should know this parsha is “beautifully expounded in the Midrash of Rabbi Tanchuma.” The Rebbe addressed several points about this. The point relevant to us is that this is precisely what the parsha is about: it is “beautifully expounded in the Midrash of Rabbi Tanchuma.” Tanchuma comes from the word for consolation. When learning the parsha, one might feel bitterness; at times it is a very bitter parsha. After all, throughout these accounts we see Moshe Rabbeinu standing up to defend the Jews, particularly when undesirable things happened—the sin of the Golden Calf, the sin of the spies. Moshe Rabbeinu always stood up as a servant on behalf of…

24:27 the Jews, seeking forgiveness for them, and so on. But here Moshe Rabbeinu [unclear], to the point that it ends in tragedy, in the incident with [unclear]. So Rashi comes and says at the very beginning of our parsha, “This parsha is beautifully expounded in the Midrash Tanchuma.” The Rebbe once said that Tanchuma is related to Menachem, to consolation. It offers comfort and transforms things, bringing consolation into the undesirable events and turning the entire parsha around. When we learn the parsha through Rashi, through Midrash Tanchuma, it becomes clear how precisely from a story like this, light gains an advantage over darkness. This is not only because the end of the parsha tells of the strengthening of the tribe of Levi, the affirmation of Aharon’s priesthood, and the distinction of the priesthood—what follows from the story. Even in the details of Korach’s own story, we see this advantage of light. That is what we have been discussing—the power of teshuvah—and that is what the weekly parsha teaches us. Here we see what this means for us in particular, as we stand in the final moments of galus. And we have seen with our Rebbe [unclear] how, in our generation, the Rebbe devoted himself to teshuvah, awakened the generation, and brought countless Jews—hundreds and thousands, millions of Jews—to return

25:51 in teshuvah. Teshuvah, as the Rebbe always spoke about it, applies also to those who are like children taken captive; and even someone considered a tzaddik must do teshuvah, as the Zohar says, “Moshiach will come to bring the righteous to teshuvah.” Teshuvah is required of every Jew, even tzaddikim, especially in order to bring Moshiach. And [unclear] of teshuvah, which we learn from the weekly parsha, will be revealed and bring the level of teshuvah ila’ah to expression. This teshuvah will bring the complete Geulah, for “the Jewish people will be redeemed only through teshuvah.” And in the words of the Rambam, “They will be redeemed immediately”—the true and complete Geulah through Moshiach Tzidkeinu.