When the Prince Returns from Captivity - the Alter Rebbe's Profound Perspective on These Days

00:00 In recent days, each of us, the entire Jewish people, and the whole world have been going through moments of very intense, mixed emotions. Moments of joy mingled with a great deal of bitterness, a great deal of pain alongside a great deal of joy—all at once. And really, throughout this long period we’ve been living through, you could say we’ve been caught in this turmoil, with mixed emotions following us at every turn. On the one hand, we constantly see great miracles, and there are many, many reasons to be happy and to thank Hakadosh Boruch Hu for “Your miracles that are with us every day.” Wonderful things are happening beneath the surface, out in the open, everywhere. On the other hand, at the very same time, of course we feel sorrow and pain over everything the Jewish people have been going through lately: the long, nerve-racking war, the hardship, the endless grief over every soul, every Jew who falls in battle, and over all our dear brothers and sisters of the Jewish people who are still in captivity, with all the hardship, pain, and anguish—especially in recent days. Whatever we talk about, there is always a mixture of emotions. A person becomes confused and overwhelmed: Should I be happy? Should I be sad? It all comes at once, with tremendous force. So the question is: What is the message? What can we learn from everything happening here about emotions in our lives, in our day-to-day lives, and in our service of Hashem? Here we come to a most wonderful point, connected through Divine Providence with the weekly parshiyos we are learning on precisely these days. We’ve begun the book of Shemos, and we’re learning the parshiyos that speak about the process of the Exodus from Egypt. Today, then, we’ll discuss a very interesting point that the Alter Rebbe, author of the Tanya, identifies and explains in the Tanya. It gives us a wonderful, deep perspective both on the story of the Exodus from Egypt and, above all, on each of our own personal Exodus from Egypt, which all of us

02:34 in fact, as the Alter Rebbe explains in the Tanya, go through every day. As our Sages say, “In every generation...” The Alter Rebbe adds—and also writes—that every single day a person must see himself as though he left Egypt today. The Exodus from Egypt is something we all experience every day, an inner process. If we look deeply and reflect on some truly wonderful points about the Exodus from Egypt, we’ll see that the Torah is not merely a book of stories. The Torah is a book that speaks to our lives. Torah is related to the word hora’ah, “instruction.” The stories of the Torah—the Torah’s account of the Exodus from Egypt—is the story of the inner, psychological Exodus from Egypt that applies to every one of us. And there we will find that the Alter Rebbe explains beautifully how the Exodus from Egypt has a message for us about the storm of emotions each of us goes through in the process of teshuvah, in a Jew’s daily service of Hashem. This week we mark the anniversary, the day of the hilula, the yahrzeit of the Alter Rebbe, author of the Tanya. 24 Teves is the day the Alter Rebbe passed away, and it always falls around the time of Parshas Shemos and Parshas Vaeira. So let’s look at the meaning of the parsha according to the Alter Rebbe, author of the Tanya, who, as is well known, also spoke emphatically about learning the parsha and living with the parsha. One of the wonderful teachings, one of the foundations of the Alter Rebbe’s teachings and Chabad teachings, is that a Jew should learn every day the portion of the weekly parsha that corresponds to that day—and not only learn it, but live it. As the Alter Rebbe put it, “Live with the times.” The parsha’s message is relevant and alive; it has meaning for our day-to-day lives. So let’s look at what the Alter Rebbe discusses in Tanya. We’ll begin with a question that every one

04:47 of us has as well, a question the Alter Rebbe poses at the beginning of the book, at the beginning of Tanya: How exactly should a person feel about himself in relation to his service of Hashem? After all, we all know we aren’t perfect. Each of us knows very well where we stand. Each of us is in our own situation. We know that the yetzer hara often gets the better of us, and each person knows within himself where he stands in serving Hashem. We are keenly aware of our shortcomings, that we have not yet corrected ourselves—not in thought, not in speech, and not in action. Each of us knows the baggage we carry. The question is: How am I supposed to feel about that? After all, we know that serving Hashem must be done with joy. On the first page of Tanya, the Alter Rebbe says that joy is a foundation of serving Hashem. It isn’t optional; it’s an obligation: “Serve Hashem with joy.” A Jew must serve Hashem with joy. It cannot be otherwise. Serving Hashem with joy is not something incidental; it is essential. This is especially so according to the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov, who revealed the deeper meaning of joy in serving Hashem and placed joy at the center of that service. Clearly, then, there must be joy. On the other hand, a person cannot deceive himself or live a lie. He needs to know the truth, to know where he stands in his daily service of Hashem. If things are wrong, I need to be aware of them and correct them, and they should cause me pain. I need to regret the things I’ve done wrong and want to change, improve, and rise higher. So the problem is that these emotions seem to conflict. If I spend time thinking about what I’m lacking, about the sins and transgressions I

06:53 commit, about how wicked I still am, how far I still am from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and so on, then surely those feelings and thoughts will bring me down. I’ll feel sadness, bitterness, pain, and sorrow—all kinds of feelings that don’t exactly help me feel joyful. So what would you say—that I shouldn’t think about it? Or that I should think, “Even though I’m wicked, I’m still happy”? That would mean I don’t care, that I’m not taking it seriously. It would mean that, in effect, nothing has happened. And if nothing has happened, a person will become flippant: “It’s fine, everything’s good; the main thing is to be happy.” But that kind of attitude could lead a person to throw off the yoke of Heaven, to a sort of anything-goes approach: “Everything’s fine; just keep enjoying life.” There is a very delicate issue here, and we need to understand how to reconcile all these feelings. On the one hand, serving Hashem with joy at every moment, and the importance of that joy; on the other hand, knowing the truth, genuinely feeling bitterness over my actual situation, and wanting to improve. How do these two things work together? That is the Alter Rebbe’s question on the first page of Tanya. In the chapters that follow, we find something wonderful. In chapters 26 through 31, the Alter Rebbe begins by explaining, deeply and beautifully, the importance of joy in serving Hashem. Why does it matter so much, why is it so important, that a person be happy? That a person serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu with joy and a glad heart, without the slightest trace of worry? One reason the Alter Rebbe gives for why joy is so central to serving Hashem is very simple: When a person is happy, he acts with alacrity. When a person is happy, he has energy. When there is

09:06 When you have energy, you’re on top. It gives you the strength to overcome the yetzer hara. There’s a battle. We know we live with a battle. One of the foundations of Tanya is its explanation of the inner battle that takes place in a Jew’s soul. We have two souls, a G-dly soul and an animal soul, a yetzer tov and a yetzer hara, and we live with this very difficult battle every day. For the G-dly soul, the G-dly power within us, the spiritual power within us, the yetzer tov, to overcome the yetzer hara in this battle, we need a great deal of energy. We need to be quick and eager. We see a simple example of this in life. When two people are struggling against each other, even in some kind of game where one is trying to bring the other down, stronger muscles aren’t enough. You also need the right state of mind. Someone who is happier, more uplifted, more self-confident, stronger, and less weighed down by worries has an uplifted spirit, and that itself gives him the strength to prevail. If a person is depressed and in a low state of mind, then even if his muscles and physical strength are greater, he won’t win. He’ll fall. That’s the reality we see in everyday life, says the Alter Rebbe. The same is true in serving Hashem, in the battle with the yetzer hara. To defeat the yetzer hara, to overcome our impulses and desires, and to be strong in serving Hashem, a person must be joyful and glad at heart. Joy brings eagerness with it. When a person is happy, he acts with energy. When you act with energy, you win; you stay on top. You don’t let the yetzer hara break you. The moment a person falls into depression and sadness, he is in the hands of

11:20 the yetzer hara. The Alter Rebbe tells us something remarkable. He says: Know that negative thoughts, thoughts of worry or sadness of any kind—even if they concern real things, and a person feels deep sadness over sins and wrong things he did in the past—if they bring you negative thoughts, thoughts of sadness, in the middle of the day, then know, says the Alter Rebbe, that this is the yetzer hara’s scheme to make him fall into temptation. Thoughts of sadness and bitterness weaken a person. The moment a person is weakened, he is in the hands of the yetzer hara. Now I’m depressed, I’m sad, I feel like sleeping, collapsing into bed, crying—but I don’t feel like working or making an effort. I’m not about to lift myself up. On the contrary, I’ll sink into deeper depression. I’ll become inactive. And not only inactive: the yetzer hara takes advantage of this. If I’m not finding pleasure and joy in holy things, perhaps I’ll look for pleasure and joy in the opposite—in destructive, negative things. That is the point the Alter Rebbe teaches us about the importance of joy in serving Hashem. The Alter Rebbe continues: But wait. On the other hand, I have an animal soul, and I really have done things that weren’t good. A person should be aware of those things so he can correct them and improve. That, too, is part of serving—sorry, part of serving Hashem. How do I reconcile the two? Here the Alter Rebbe gives us a very important principle in the service of Hashem for every one of us. In the process of taking stock of oneself and one’s service of Hashem, a person must tell himself: It’s true, I do have an animal soul,

13:35 and I have a yetzer hara. There are parts of me that still need fixing, things that aren’t yet in order. I haven’t yet managed to overcome all sorts of things. I know there is still impurity or evil in my soul. But I also have a G-dly soul within me. I have within me “an actual part of G-d above.” I have a G-dly spark within me, as does every Jew, no matter where he stands in serving Hashem. As we said in Tanya, the Alter Rebbe teaches us that every Jew has within him an actual part of G-d above. He has a G-dly spark. A Jew is the child of a King. “You are children of Hashem your G-d.” Moshe Rabbeinu says to Pharaoh, “Yisroel is My firstborn son.” A Jew is a child of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is our essential identity. But what has happened? The King’s child is in captivity. The King’s child is in prison. When the King’s child is captive, sitting in prison, but knows he has the opportunity to be freed from prison, to escape captivity, to come home and reunite with his Father, the King—there is no greater joy than the joy of a King’s child returning from captivity or prison to the home of his father the King, as Tanya says in chapter 31. That is what a Jew should feel each and every day, every moment he has the opportunity to daven, learn Torah, or perform a mitzvah. Because the moment I daven, the moment I do a mitzvah or learn a verse of Torah, what is happening right then? I’m freeing my soul from imprisonment. My G-dly soul has an opportunity. Mitzvah is related to the word tzavsa, meaning connection. Tefillah is related to “tofel earthenware vessels”—joining things together. Tefillah is also related to “naftalti,” as in “naftulei Elokim naftalti,” meaning connection. Through Torah study, through the service of davening, and through performing mitzvos, a Jew has the opportunity, in that very moment,

16:06 to leave the prison of the body, physicality, and the animal soul, and to connect and bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Could there be a greater joy? Can we imagine a greater joy? A person, a King’s child, has been captive for a long time, held by a hostile enemy, and is given the chance in an instant to leap out of that deep captivity, out of the great darkness, and reunite with his father the King. There is no greater joy than that. This joy can happen every day. It is the wonderful joy a Jew should feel in serving Hashem in daily life. The Alter Rebbe says: This is what is meant by “all his days in teshuvah.” True teshuvah is joyful teshuvah. True teshuvah is a Jew returning like a King’s child who returns from prison. What the Alter Rebbe tells us is wonderful. The Gemara relates that Rabbi Eliezer ben Horkenus told his students before he passed away, “My friends, repent one day before your death”—a person should do teshuvah one day before he dies. They asked him, “How does a person know when he will die? A person doesn’t know when that day will come.” Rabbi Eliezer told them, “That is exactly what I meant.” All his days should be spent in teshuvah. Teshuvah should be part of your whole life, every day, because every day could be your last. The Alter Rebbe comes and says: What is the message here? This isn’t talking about teshuvah of bitterness or pain, about thinking every day of the sins you’ve committed, G-d forbid. There is an explicit verse in Tehillim: a Jew must always be joyful. “Serve Hashem with joy.” So what does “all his days in teshuvah” mean? This is talking about joyful teshuvah. In the language of the Zohar, it is called teshuvah ila’ah, a higher teshuvah, a teshuvah of drawing close. Here the word teshuvah means, as we said, the King’s child returning from prison and drawing close

18:29 To his father, the king. Of course the joy is immense. What extraordinary joy! We feel it with every mitzvah, in every prayer, and whenever we learn Torah. And here the question arises: Wait, but I know the truth. I still haven’t dealt with all the evil within me. This is only an escape. I haven’t actually refined my body or my physical nature. My animal soul still dwells within me. I still have an evil inclination, impulses, and desires, and I know that at any moment the evil inclination could overpower me again. So what am I happy about? The king’s son left prison, and that was it. All is well. But I know I haven’t really left prison. It’s only for a moment, just for this moment. My body, my animal soul, and my heart are still full of all kinds of desires and other things. So what am I happy about? Here the Alter Rebbe offers a wonderful idea and a way forward. He says that in life, people often experience something similar: mixed feelings. This brings us to the subject of mixed feelings, something we all experience, including right now, in these days. Often, something happens in our lives that gives us a very, very strong reason to be happy and, at the same time, a very, very strong reason to feel anxious or bitter. We have plenty of examples from life, but I think that these days we don’t need examples. We are all experiencing it. We feel it in our daily lives. We rejoice over every Jew who, thank G-d, comes home. Over every Jew who leaves captivity and returns home. But at the same time, we know how much pain and sorrow there is all around, how many

20:54 still haven’t returned, what is happening around us, how these issues are still unresolved, and how, on the other hand, we find ourselves entangled in difficulties, and so on. But the Alter Rebbe tells us that this is where a very important point comes in, one a person must always remember: I choose what to focus on right now. I choose what is more precious to me, and that is where I direct my attention. A person has to choose what matters most to him. In the words of Tanya, “Let his soul be precious in his eyes, so that he rejoices in its joy more than he grieves over the body.” Wow. The Alter Rebbe says: From the perspective of the body, there is grief. My physical nature is still coarse, full of desires. I am still caught up in all kinds of material things, and I still haven’t managed to free myself from myself. I still don’t feel I’ve reached safe shores. The evil inclination is still pursuing me. But my soul has this opportunity right now to pray to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to perform a mitzvah, to learn Torah. Right now my soul, my G-dly soul, has the opportunity to connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. “Let it be precious”—precious in the sense of something deeply valued. The preciousness of the soul, rejoicing in its joy, in the joy of our neshamah, matters more than grief over the body. The Rebbe says that this is the meaning of the Exodus from Egypt. It is exactly what the Jewish people experienced at the moment they left Egypt. What happened during the Exodus? The Jewish people fled: “For the people had fled.” It’s remarkable. The Exodus from Egypt was a story of flight. Can we say that when the Jewish people left Egypt, everything was resolved with a capital R, that all their problems had been solved? Certainly not. The Exodus from Egypt was only the beginning of a process. Physically, the Jewish people still didn’t know where they were going, what they would do, what direction they were headed in, or what their destination was. They knew that Hakadosh Boruch Hu was taking them out of Egypt, but they still had a long road ahead of them. All the more so spiritually: the Jewish people were at the height of impurity. As is well known, they had reached the forty-nine gates of impurity in Egypt. The Jewish people were inside the kelipah, inside the

23:18 sitra achra, immersed in the impurity of Egypt. They were so deeply sunk in impurity that it was almost impossible to take them out, as it says in the Zohar or the Midrashim, and so on. Then the moment of redemption arrived, and the Jewish people fled Egypt. The verse says, “For the people had fled.” The Alter Rebbe asks: Why did the Jewish people flee? Why couldn’t they leave calmly? Pharaoh had no choice but to send them away. He had suffered ten plagues. He had seen what happened to the firstborn. He had already cried out, “Get out of here!” Why did they flee? Why did they mislead him? Why did they tell him they were going for three days and would then return? Why didn’t they say to him, “We’re leaving Egypt, period. We’re never coming back. We’re leaving for good. Our dealings with you are over”? No. The Jews didn’t speak to Pharaoh that way. They told him a story: “We’re going for a few days; we’ll be right back.” Then, after three days, Pharaoh realized they weren’t returning. He sent messengers and began pursuing them. Why did it have to happen as a flight? This is the point: that is how serving Hashem works when we leave Egypt. At the first stage of leaving our constraints, of leaving the inner evil that we all have, we are still immersed in impurity. But when you want to begin the process of teshuvah, it starts with “For the people had fled.” You can’t walk away slowly and calmly, weighing everything up and getting caught in philosophical arguments and explanations. You have to flee. That flight is the break from evil. If you start making all kinds of calculations, you’ll get stuck again, and then it might already be too late. That is why the Exodus from Egypt had to take the form of a flight: the evil was still at full strength, and the only way was to run. It’s like they say in the army: when you’re in danger, the first thing you do is get away. Afterward, we’ll assess the situation; afterward, we’ll see what

25:23 can be fixed; afterward, we’ll see. Even if you take a hit along the way, don’t—don’t stop; keep running. If you stop, G-d forbid, you could be struck in the head. Right now, you’re fleeing. Flight is the first point, the foundation, and that is the Exodus from Egypt at its first stage. Afterward came the process of counting the Omer and all the work the Jewish people did to prepare themselves. In fact, the process still isn’t over. It is a very long process that began with the Exodus from Egypt and will end with the future Geulah. Every single day, we leave Egypt. The Alter Rebbe tells us: The verse says, “As in the days of your departure from the land of Egypt.” It doesn’t say “as on the day of your departure,” but “as in the days of your departure.” Because throughout all our days, we are constantly in the process of leaving. We flee and emerge from one more constraint, one more darkness, one more inner limitation, more restrictions, difficulties, and struggles. Each time, we draw closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And the Exodus from Egypt will reach its completion with the complete Geulah through Moshiach Tzidkeinu, when “I will remove the spirit of impurity from the earth” completely. So the Alter Rebbe concludes by saying that there is no contradiction at all between these two feelings. We asked how a person should live day to day. On the one hand, he needs to be aware of the evil within him, aware of his situation. Of course, it needs to matter to him, to be important and deeply personal to him, so that he wants to correct it and feels bitterness over the darkness of the body and the animal soul. But at the same time, there is no contradiction in cherishing my neshamah and deciding—choosing—to rejoice in the soul’s joy instead of being absorbed in the negative. On the contrary, I will focus on the positive: on the tremendous privilege that, although I am in such darkness, despite all that darkness, Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose my neshamah. Hakadosh Boruch Hu gave me a part of G-d above and gives me the opportunity to

27:35 Through every mitzvah, every prayer, and every verse of Torah, I can return and connect with Him. That is where I focus my energies. This joy overcomes my bitterness, even though both feelings are real; they do not contradict each other. To conclude, the Alter Rebbe brings a very interesting story from the Zohar that helps us understand what we have been discussing. The Zohar relates that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was once sitting with his son, Rabbi Elazar son of Rabbi Shimon. These were holy Tannaim, of whom it is said that the world stood on their merit. They were learning and speaking together, and Rabbi Shimon revealed to his son the secrets of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. Rabbi Shimon lived only a short time after the destruction, sixty or seventy years later. Everything was still fresh, as we would say, and he explained to his son the meaning of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash according to the secrets of Kabbalah. What did it mean? What was happening? It says that when Rabbi Shimon finished explaining and revealing these secrets, his son Rabbi Elazar said, “I feel joy lodged in one side of my heart, and weeping lodged in the other.” Mixed emotions. One side of my heart is crying; the other side is laughing. How can both be there at once? But that is exactly what is happening. I have heard the Torah’s secrets concerning the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. The left side of my heart weeps over the destruction. What could be more painful? The destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, children exiled from their Father’s table. But when I hear the wondrous secrets you have revealed to me within all this, it lifts my soul and makes me want to rejoice. So one side of the heart rejoices, and the other side is embittered. The Alter Rebbe says: This, in fact, is what we experience all

29:46 the time. If we were people with only one soul, we would have to choose one or the other. But since we have two souls, there is a right side of the heart and a left side of the heart. The right side is where the G-dly soul resides. “A wise man’s heart is at his right,” says King Shlomo in Koheles. On the left side are the yetzer hara, the animal soul: “A fool’s heart is at his left.” Both souls are there. They are two kinds of life, and both are present within our reality. So on the one hand, I need to recognize what is happening with my animal soul and feel bitterness over its condition, over where we are and the state we are in. But that bitterness does not lead me to discouragement, depression, or sadness. On the contrary: at the same time, I contemplate the other side. Despite everything, Hakadosh Boruch Hu has given me a G-dly soul, truly a part of G-d above. It dwells within my body, and at this very moment I have the opportunity to break free of all the darkness and connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. I cherish the G-dly soul. That is precisely the great joy of a Jew: knowing that he can bring light into this profound darkness, with the advantage of light that comes from darkness. That brings the greatest joy. There is no greater joy, as the Alter Rebbe also says later in Tanya, than the advantage of light brought forth from darkness. The greatest joy is the joy of transformation—turning darkness into light. Every one of us can do that at every moment. This is the wonderful thing the Alter Rebbe teaches us in Tanya: how a Jew should serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu with joy and gladness of heart. We must know how to shift our attention, meaning, to change what we connect ourselves to.

31:51 Instead of focusing on the negative, on what you lack and what is wrong, focus on the positive. Contemplate how Hakadosh Boruch Hu gave you a G-dly soul and gave you the ability to bring light into the world through Torah, prayer, and mitzvos. Connect with that, bind yourself to it, and there you will find the greatest joy: the joy of leaving prison, of emerging from dark captivity into the great light that Hakadosh Boruch Hu will give us. May we merit the complete Exodus from Egypt this very day. We have been in the process of leaving Egypt for years and years, but we know that we are already in the final moments. Those final moments are the hardest, and the mixed emotions of these last days are the hardest. We ask Hakadosh Boruch Hu that we should finally merit the great joy, the complete joy of the final Exodus from Egypt—the departure from exile. Then, it is written, we will not need to flee. We will not need to run. As the Alter Rebbe brings the verses in Tanya, “For you shall not go out in haste.” Not in flight; rather, “In returning and rest shall you be saved.” The departure into Geulah will be in rest and tranquility, with joy and peace. May we all merit the light of the complete Geulah through our righteous Moshiach. May we merit the complete Geulah this very day.