An Ox That Gored - Why Do We Learn Things That Seem Totally Irrelevant to Our Lives?! | Rabbi Asher Perkesh

00:00 What is the importance of studying Torah every day? Every one of us has regular Torah study sessions, without exception. It doesn’t matter whether a Jew is someone who sits in the beis midrash, a Torah scholar, or a businessman—someone busy all day with different kinds of work, trades, and business. But we all know that Torah study has supreme value. A person gets up in the morning and has a Torah class after davening, or when he comes home from work. It doesn’t matter that he’s tired and drained; he knows he has to set aside fixed times for Torah study, to “meditate on it day and night.” Throughout the generations, at all times, Jews of every kind and at every level have always known that they must study Torah every day, to “meditate on it day and night,” because “they are our life and the length of our days.” The question is: What is this really about? What exactly is the reason for daily Torah study? I can understand that, in our world, if someone wants to earn a degree, he has to study. A person studies to become proficient in a particular field of knowledge or science. If he wants to be a doctor, he has to study medicine. If he wants to be a lawyer, he has to learn the field and everything connected with it. If he wants to be a psychologist, he has to study psychology, and so on. But with Torah study, we see that it has nothing to do with that. A person studies Torah as something valuable in itself. Jews don’t study Torah just because they want to know what to do, how to do it, and how to behave. What’s more, we see that the great majority of Torah classes held and attended deal specifically with subjects that have no connection to everyday life. Of course, there is the study of halachah, which is extremely important. A person

02:24 needs to know what he must do. So a Jew needs to have a fixed time to study practical halachah. But Jews study Torah, and very large parts of the Torah we study have no connection to what we must do in practice. We study Gemara, for example. Who doesn’t have a regular Gemara class? So many of the discussions—and perhaps most of the discussions—we study in Gemara don’t necessarily have implications for everyday life. Take the tractates studied in yeshivos: Bava Kama, Bava Metzia, Bava Basra. A very large portion of the subjects they discuss concern things that don’t exist today. They talk about livestock and animals, an ox that gored. They discuss the four primary categories of damages. A very large portion of what we study deals with subjects we hardly encounter in our world today. Not to mention studying Seder Kodashim, the laws of offerings, or Seder Taharos, the laws of tumah and taharah—all kinds of things that don’t apply nowadays, laws relevant to the time of Moshiach. And yet Jews study Torah. A Jew knows this, and we love it, enjoy it, long for it. Who doesn’t have Torah classes in all sorts of fields and subjects? The question is: What exactly is the value in this? Why is it so? What lies behind this remarkable fact—that throughout the generations, at all times, Jews have studied Torah without any aim of having it help them today or produce some result in their daily lives? They study Torah for its own sake. We see that even in the hardest times, when studying Torah was dangerous, Jews hid and studied Torah under all circumstances. My grandfather, a"h, a Holocaust survivor who lost his entire family—his first wife and children—in the Holocaust, rachmana litzlan, would tell us wistfully: When they were in forced-labor camps, their lives were in danger every single moment. Nevertheless, someone managed to smuggle in

04:43 a small Gemara, and at night they would hide in all sorts of ways so they could study a few lines of Gemara. For them, it was truly life-giving. We know many such stories from Jewish history. For Jews, it was simply life itself. What is the value of studying Torah for its own sake, with no other goal—just studying Torah? What does that mean? Today, then, we’ll study what the Alter Rebbe teaches us in Tanya. He discusses this at length and gives us a profound, wonderful explanation that will give us the pleasure of understanding it, open a little window for us to understand what really lies behind Torah study as something valuable in itself. The Alter Rebbe says in Tanya that a Jew’s connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is through studying Torah and observing mitzvos. On the one hand, Torah study is one of the mitzvos. There are 613 mitzvos that we received, and Torah study is one of them. Nevertheless, there are two ways a Jew connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. There is Torah study as a mitzvah, like any other mitzvah, but there is also Torah study as something valuable in itself. What exactly does that mean? In general, what is the purpose of Torah and mitzvos? One of the things the inner dimension of Torah—the Zohar, Kabbalah—explains is that Torah study is not just so a person will know how to behave. Torah and mitzvos are not just meant to make life healthier, more beautiful, more complete, or to create a world of justice and integrity, though all of these are true and important. There is something much deeper and more inward: studying Torah is the way a Jew connects and bonds with Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

06:57 After all, mitzvos are called mitzvos from the word tzavsa, meaning connection. A Jew who studies Torah and observes mitzvos connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is how the Jewish people connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Zohar says, “Yisroel, Torah, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are all one.” Torah, the Jewish people, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are one. Elsewhere it says that there are three bonds bound together: the Jewish people are bound to the Torah, and the Torah to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Jew connects with the Torah, and the Torah with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In other words, Torah and mitzvos create a connection and bond between a Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Today we’ll study exactly what supreme value Torah study has. Although we say that a Jew connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu through every mitzvah, there is a special, wonderful connection, unique to Torah study, that is not found in any other mitzvah. This special connection created when a Jew studies Torah is something truly remarkable. It is what gives Torah study its value, so that a Jew, in any situation and at any free moment, looks for a sefer, sits down, and studies—even when that particular lesson, halachah, or Gemara discussion has no direct practical application in his life today. The Alter Rebbe says the following in Tanya: Although all the mitzvos are the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, when a Jew performs a mitzvah, he is fulfilling the King’s will. In other words, there is Hakadosh Boruch Hu, the King of kings, who issues the command, and there is the person, the King’s servant, who receives His commands and carries them out. So when I perform a mitzvah, I fulfill the King’s will, I fulfill the will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and by fulfilling the will of Hakadosh

09:18 Blessed is He, I connect with Him, I form a bond with Him. What is this like? A king of flesh and blood: the distance between the king and the people is enormous. An ordinary person cannot be compared to the greatness and majesty of a mighty king. And of course, we’re talking about a true king—a mighty king, exalted by every measure. So the distance between the king and an ordinary person is enormous. But when the king asks that ordinary person to do something for him, even if the act itself is very simple, by carrying out his command I become united with the king. I connect with him. I’ve done what he said. This happens with every Jew, of course, in a far more wondrous way. The distance between the King of kings, Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and a simple created being—each of us in relation to Hakadosh Boruch Hu—is infinite. There is no comparison between the Creator and the created being, between Hakadosh Boruch Hu and us. And yet Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose us and said to us: I want you to put on tefillin, keep Shabbos, eat kosher. He gives us mitzvos. The mitzvos themselves can be very simple things. Putting on tefillin is very simple. But when a Jew fulfills a mitzvah, he has fulfilled the King’s will. “Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us”—and that creates a connection. A bond is formed, a unity between the commanded act and the One who commands, between the Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And this happens, in fact, with every mitzvah. What is wondrous and distinctive about learning Torah, the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya, is the remarkable union of a person’s mind with the wisdom of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. With every mitzvah, I do what the King asks. There are two parties here: the King, who commands, and the servant, and I carry out the King’s command. I do what He says. So it’s true that this

11:22 expresses self-nullification, a devotion to doing what He says, but the One who commands and the one who is commanded are two separate beings. When I learn Torah, though, the Torah is His wisdom; it is the will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In the Torah, Hakadosh Boruch Hu has, so to speak, revealed to us what He thinks, what He wants, how He understands things—His understanding, so to speak. And when I sit and learn Torah, my mind, the faculty of wisdom in my soul, my brain, my human intellect, tries to understand Divine wisdom. Something wondrous happens: as I learn the wisdom of the Torah, the human mind unites with the Divine intellect. And the human mind’s union with the Divine intellect is so wondrous, so deep, that it is as though the two cannot be separated. There aren’t two separate things here now. It isn’t a matter of me, a human being, doing what He asks. In that case, there is me and there is Him: He tells me something and I do it. True, there is self-nullification in carrying out the Supernal will, but there are two separate beings: the king and the servant. The servant carries out the master’s will. That is a mitzvah. With Torah, there aren’t two separate things; there is only one. There is the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and the human mind now unites with them fully and absolutely. It grasps them; the brain now, so to speak, takes in and grasps within itself the infinite wisdom of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So there is an immense union here. In the words of the Alter Rebbe in chapter 5 of Tanya, “This union is a wondrous union, the like or equal of which is not to be found in the physical world at all: to be one and united from every side and angle.” It’s a wondrous kind of union, a merging. You can’t distinguish here which is which. Human wisdom and the wisdom of Hakadosh Boruch Hu unite so completely, so powerfully, so

13:40 deeply, that it is as though they are one thing. And this is what the Alter Rebbe says: That is why we see Torah compared to food. Only with regard to learning Torah do we find this expression in the verses and in the teachings of our Sages—that Torah is compared to food. “And Your Torah is within my innards,” the prophet says. Torah is, so to speak, like bread and nourishment for the soul. Food, bread, is something that becomes one with a person. It becomes part of him, blood and flesh like his own flesh. A person eats; the food enters him and becomes part of his being. Learning Torah means that the infinite, Supernal wisdom of Hakadosh Boruch Hu becomes enclothed in the human mind in such a way that they become one reality, truly one essence. So this union exists specifically in learning Torah; it does not exist in fulfilling mitzvos. To bring out the point more deeply, the Alter Rebbe tells us in one of his maamarim: We find that a Jew who fulfills a mitzvah is called a servant of the King of kings, Hakadosh Boruch Hu, because “He has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us.” We carry out the King’s command, and the servant obeys Him. When we learn Torah, we are called not the King’s servant but, so to speak, the King Himself. Our Sages say, “Who are the kings? The Rabbis.” A person who learns Torah becomes a king. He is not the king’s servant; he is the king himself. In other words, as we explained, when I fulfill a mitzvah, there is the One who commands and the one who is commanded. I am a servant carrying out the King’s will—the King’s will. But when a Jew learns Torah, we say that now, when the person is one with the Torah, it is as though the King Himself is speaking here. This is the meaning of the verse, “And My words, which I have placed in your mouth.” When a Jew learns Torah, it is the word of Hashem passing through his mouth. There are not two separate things here at all. These are the words of Hashem: “My words, which I have placed in your mouth.” The words of Hakadosh Boruch Hu pass through the mouth of the person learning Torah. So

16:12 here it is, so to speak, the King Himself saying what His will is. This connection, this depth, is something wondrous that exists specifically in learning Torah. But why, really? What is at the root of it? What we’ve explained until now about the difference between learning Torah and fulfilling mitzvos concerns the person—how he connects with them. In fulfilling mitzvos, we feel like a servant carrying out the King’s command. In learning Torah, the Jew is elevated and, so to speak, becomes part of the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He feels as though they are one. It is the King Himself speaking through his mouth. But what is at the root of this distinction? What is the real reason Torah has this wondrous power, this wondrous union, this immense oneness and merging? Why specifically learning Torah? The Alter Rebbe explains in chapter 23 of Tanya that it is because of Torah’s source. The bond between Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu is deeper than the bond between the mitzvos and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives us Torah and gives us mitzvos. What is the difference between Torah and mitzvos? Mitzvos, as their name indicates, are commands. A mitzvah is a command. A command is given to someone. When you use the word “command,” it means there is a servant, a people, a person, and I command him. The master commands the servant; the king commands the people. So the word “command” implies that there is someone else whom I command to act. That itself establishes the other person as a separate being. But when we speak about Torah, the Zohar tells us: “The Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are entirely one.” Torah is not a command to someone. Torah is, so to speak, the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. It is, in essence, the King Himself. It is not a command to someone; it is

18:34 His wisdom, so to speak. Let’s make this more precise. The Alter Rebbe tells us that we find two very interesting expressions in the Zohar: one concerning mitzvos and one concerning Torah. Regarding mitzvos, the Zohar says that the 248 mitzvos—“248 precepts”—are the “248 limbs of the King,” so to speak. That is what it says about mitzvos. What does “limbs of the King” mean? Of course, this is an analogy. Just as a person has 248 limbs and 365 sinews, so too, so to speak, the supernal “man”—the supernal sefiros of Hakadosh Boruch Hu—corresponds to this number of 248, the limbs of the King, so to speak. That is what it says about mitzvos. We’ll explain it in a moment. Regarding Torah, the Zohar says, “The Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are entirely one.” In other words, the mitzvos are compared to the King’s limbs; Torah is one with the King Himself. If we take the human soul as an analogy, a person has limbs and has life within them. The body is made up of limbs. Each limb is a vessel for a power of the soul. The hand has the power to move; that is a power of the soul invested in the hand. The power of sight is invested in the eye, and the power of hearing in the ear. Each power of the soul has its own particular limb, which serves as its vessel. But the limbs themselves are not part of the soul. They are part of the body, flesh and blood. Yet the limbs are completely responsive to the soul. In a living person, all the limbs submit to the soul, and whatever the soul wants, it accomplishes through them. The moment I want to move my hand, it moves. I want to move my leg, and it moves. I want to open

21:00 my eyes, and I see. Through its will, the soul controls the limbs. The limbs obey the soul’s will, but they are two distinct things: there are the limbs, and there is the soul, and the limbs submit to the soul. But when we speak of the soul’s life-force, of the soul itself, the life-force is the soul. They are not two things at all. The Alter Rebbe says that this is the difference between mitzvos and Torah. The mitzvos are, so to speak, the limbs of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Each mitzvah is a command, a particular limb. It is, so to speak, a vessel through which a Jew connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So on the one hand, the mitzvos are of course completely subservient to the supernal will. Each mitzvah reveals that will in a particular detail: tefillin, tzitzis, washing hands, kashrus, Shabbos. Each mitzvah is a kind of limb through which Hakadosh Boruch Hu is revealed down here in our world. But as we said, it is a limb. It has its own existence. It is a limb of Hakadosh—it expresses the will of Hakadosh—it is a command to a person. Torah, however, is “the Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are entirely one.” Torah is, in essence, Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. It comes from a place where, as yet, there is no person, and therefore no command to a person; there is no world, and no command concerning the world. Torah comes, so to speak, from the level of Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, where there is not yet a person, or a human form, or a world. There is no relationship to anything else yet. This is, so to speak, “the Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are entirely one”—a “hidden treasure,” as the Gemara says in Shabbos in its discussion of the giving of the Torah. Torah is a hidden treasure kept with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu as He is above the world. After all, the essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu has no connection to the world at all. In the words of the Gemara, “Where you find His greatness, there you find

23:06 His humility.” What we call greatness—the world and all it contains, the greatness of Hashem—is, from the perspective of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, actually humility, a descent, a contraction. For Hakadosh Boruch Hu to relate to the world is a descent, a lowering. He Himself is utterly apart from the world, and Torah is rooted, so to speak, in the very essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is precisely the difference between Torah and mitzvos. When I perform a mitzvah, I connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But at what level? At the level where there is a world and a person, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu commands the person how to conduct himself in the world. There is a person whom Hakadosh Boruch Hu created in the world, and He commands him how to behave—what to do here and there, how to conduct himself in every detail of worldly life. The mitzvos, then, are instructions to a person on how to act. Through them I create the “limb,” so to speak, the vessel through which to connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And as we said earlier, these are two things that become united. But when I sit and learn Torah, Torah contains, so to speak, the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that are above the world. “The Torah and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are entirely one.” When I understand a point in halachah or in Gemara, when I study a sugya—and that sugya does not necessarily have any practical application—I am learning a Torah discussion that explains a matter: this one says one thing, that one says another, and the ruling will be such and such. The very act of learning, of engaging with the question of what the supernal will is, what is in the wisdom of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, brings an elevation. A person’s mind unites with the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, merges with them, and truly becomes one with them. It is a union with Hakadosh Boruch Hu as He is above the world. This happens specifically through learning Torah. That is why Torah study is so important, so

25:11 wonderful, so precious, that a person should use every free moment, as the Sages say, to learn Torah. And that is really the point. Of course, the value of mitzvos is extraordinary. Clearly, a Jew must perform mitzvos, and there is another subject here that deserves a class of its own. Performing mitzvos is of primary importance for the purpose of making the world a place of light, making the world a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is accomplished through mitzvos. Indeed, if we are talking about making the world a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu, that is accomplished through mitzvos even more powerfully than through Torah study. But here we are discussing Torah study, and the union—the bond between a Jew who learns Torah and the Giver of the Torah—is achieved through Torah study in a deeper, more complete way. From this we learn how much a Jew should value it. In those moments when we can sit and learn Torah, we are not looking for any other goal. Right now, we want to unite with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, with the Giver of the Torah. I do that when I sit and study a sugya, whether in halachah, Aggadah, Gemara, or the inner dimension of Torah, in Chassidus. When a Jew sits and learns a subject in Torah—when I sit, delve into it, engage with it, and want to understand the precise depth of the sugya—at that moment my mind unites and merges completely with the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Based on what we have just explained, we can understand a wonderful teaching of our Sages. First I’ll tell a story, to give the source for the explanation we are about to offer. The Frierdiker Rebbe, Rabbi

27:31 The Frierdiker Rebbe was in Eretz Yisroel during Menachem Av 5689, 1929. He came for two weeks. He explained at the time why he had traveled there: it was shortly after he had left Russia. The Frierdiker Rebbe left Russia in 1927, as is well known, in connection with the beginning of the period when the Communists expelled him from Russia. It had been an extremely difficult time for him in Russia, and he wanted to pray and make requests—for the chassidim, for the Jews, and about the troubles in the world at the time. He said that when he was in Russia, he would visit the graves of his ancestors. Now that he could no longer reach them, he wanted to visit the graves of tzaddikim. He spent two weeks in Eretz Yisroel and visited the Kosel, of course, as well as the graves of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and Rabbi Meir Baal Haness, and the graves of tzaddikim throughout the country. During that visit he was in Jerusalem, where he delivered maamarim of Chassidus, as our Rebbeim customarily do, teaching us the inner dimension of Torah. Since it was around Tisha B’Av, one of the maamarim he delivered was on the verse, “The glory of this latter House will be greater than that of the first.” The verse tells us that the Third Beis Hamikdash, the final House—the Gemara in Bava Basra says it refers to the Second Beis Hamikdash, but the Zohar says it refers to the Third—will be greater. Not merely greater in the number of years it lasts, but inherently greater, because it will be a building of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It will be an eternal House, a Geulah after which there will be no exile. But how do we reach that Geulah, that Beis Hamikdash? Through the exile and the self-sacrifice of the Jewish people throughout the generations of exile. In that maamar, the Frierdiker Rebbe spoke about a teaching of our Sages. It says

29:43 in the Midrash: Hakadosh Boruch Hu overlooked three transgressions—idolatry, forbidden relations, and bloodshed—but He did not overlook the rejection of Torah. We learn this from a verse in Amos: “For three transgressions of Judah, and for four, I will not turn it back.” There are three transgressions and then a fourth. The Midrash explains that Judah’s three transgressions are idolatry, forbidden relations, and bloodshed. The fourth is “because they abandoned My Torah”—the issue of rejecting Torah, of neglecting Torah study. And here the Rebbe asks a simple question: How can we say such a thing? Idolatry, forbidden relations, and bloodshed are the most severe transgressions. The Torah rules that for these transgressions, a Jew must be killed rather than commit them. A Jew must be prepared to give his life for this. Studying Torah is an extremely important mitzvah, but how can we say that Hakadosh Boruch Hu overlooked those three transgressions among the Jewish people, yet did not overlook the neglect of Torah study? What is the explanation? In other words, the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash came specifically because Torah study was neglected. What does that mean? The Rebbe explains, as we said earlier, that mitzvos are limbs. Each mitzvah represents a particular limb. Among the limbs, of course, there is a foot, there is a head; some limbs are more important and some less. When something goes wrong with certain limbs and they are damaged, it is easier to heal them. With other limbs, even slight damage is truly dangerous and much harder to repair. There are more central organs, like the brain, the heart, and the liver, and there are less central ones. So it is with the mitzvos. There are 248 mitzvos corresponding to the 248 limbs. Naturally, some mitzvos are more important, some less. Some are more central, but each is a limb. When a limb is impaired, it can be healed—sometimes with more difficulty, sometimes with less. But when the impairment is in a limb,

32:05 ultimately it is still a limb. It is one particular part. Torah is the soul; it is the blood. “The blood is the soul.” The Zohar says, “This Torah is man.” The Hebrew word for man, adam, can be read as alef-dam, “alef-blood.” Torah is, so to speak, the blood of the soul. The entire soul is present in the blood. Torah is not one particular limb. Torah is the encompassing whole. It is the blood, the life-force that flows through all the limbs and connects them to the soul. So as long as the Jewish people studied Torah the way it should be studied—studying Torah in order to connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu—and this is essentially what the Gemara says in Nedarim on this same subject. The Gemara in Nedarim, page 81, says: Rav Yehudah said in the name of Rav, “Why was the land lost?” “Because they abandoned My Torah.” What does “because they abandoned My Torah” mean? The Gemara says: Because they did not recite the blessing over Torah first. The problem was not Torah study itself. The problem was that they did not recite the blessing over Torah first. The blessing over Torah was missing. The commentators ask: What does that mean? The blessing over Torah was missing? That was the whole problem? They studied Torah. What was missing? The blessing over Torah. They forgot the blessing over Torah, and that caused the great destruction? The Bach, one of the great halachic authorities and commentators—the Bayis Chadash, Rabbi Yoel Sirkis, who was among the great halachic authorities some 350 years ago—addresses this. In his commentary Bayis Chadash on the Tur, section 47, in the laws of the blessings over Torah, he writes about this. The Tur, in the laws of the blessings over Torah, cites this teaching of our Sages: One must be very careful about the blessing over Torah, for our Sages said that the entire destruction of Jerusalem came because they did not recite the blessing over Torah first. The Bach asks: What does that mean? How can we say that the land was destroyed merely because the blessing over Torah was missing? The Bach explains: Hakadosh Boruch Hu gave us the Torah. Torah is not just wisdom; it is not merely intellectual knowledge

34:33 and understanding. Torah is where the holy Shechinah is found. Hakadosh Boruch Hu placed His holy Shechinah within His Torah. Torah is, in essence, the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Giver of the Torah is present within the Torah. When we study Torah—a Jew with a pure soul, truly a part of G-d above, is here in this physical world studying Torah. When he studies Torah and understands its wisdom, through that he becomes joined and united with the Giver of the Torah, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, so to speak. And when we become united with the Torah, and through it with the Shechinah, with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, we bring that light, that holiness, into the land. Then the land is filled with the holiness of the Shechinah. That is the meaning of Geulah: the land is in its proper state. The Shechinah shines within the Torah, and the Torah shines within the soul of the Jew who studies it. Through this, the whole world shines with the glory and holiness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. What happened at the time of the destruction, the Bach says, was that many Jews genuinely studied Torah, but they separated the Torah from the Giver of the Torah. That is what it means that they did not recite the blessing over Torah. They had Torah, but the blessing over Torah was missing. What is the blessing over Torah? It is not just the words of the blessing; it is what the blessing means: “Who chose us from among all the nations and gave us His Torah. Blessed are You, Hashem, Giver of the Torah.” When a Jew reflects, before beginning to study, that Torah is a gift from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and that the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu are present in this Torah—and that when I study Torah, I become united with Hakadosh Boruch Hu in a wondrous union, as we said—then this is Torah in which the holiness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu shines. And then, when you study

36:29 Through Torah, the world is illuminated. Divine light enters it; the light of the Shechinah shines throughout the world and makes it a brighter world, a more G-dly world, a holier world. But when they studied Torah—he says there was a great deal of Torah study in that period. There were sages and yeshivos; great Torah scholars studied Torah. Yet there was a kind of dryness, a disconnect from the Giver of the Torah. They studied Torah only for its wisdom, without seeking a connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So that Torah was missing its G-dliness, all its holiness. And then the land was laid waste. It remained desolate, a dry and barren land, without light, without G-dliness, without the wisdom and will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu—only dry Torah, without Divine light. That itself is exile; that itself is the destruction. So how do we bring the Geulah? By reciting the blessing over the Torah first. A Jew needs to have set times every day to study Torah, but we also need to make sure that the study has the right purpose: to seek in the Torah a connection, a oneness, an intimate bond. That is why we need to study both the revealed part of Torah and the soul of Torah, the inner dimension of Torah, which reveals to us the depth within the revealed part. As the Zohar says, the inner dimension of Torah is like a soul to a body: it illuminates the body, gives it life, and brings depth and soul into it. And when each and every one of us, especially in these days, strengthens our Torah study—when each of us sets aside time to learn another page of Gemara and another maamar of Chassidus, and strengthens our Torah study in every spare moment—we will illuminate the world with the light of the Shechinah in the deepest way. And this will bring us, soon in our days, to merit what is said:

38:31 “A new Torah will go forth from Me”—the secrets of Torah, the inner dimension of Torah, which will be revealed by our righteous Moshiach. Then what is written will be fulfilled: “The earth will be filled with the knowledge of Hashem as the waters cover the sea.” May our righteous Moshiach come speedily in our days, amen.