The Seventh Generation - Why Are We Specifically the Generation to Bring Moshiach?

00:00 Let’s open with a short story about the brilliant Kabbalist Rabbi Levi Yitzchak Schneerson, a"h, the father of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. Today, 20 Menachem Av, is his yahrzeit. He passed away after tremendous suffering and true mesirus nefesh in Soviet Russia. As is well known, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak was the rabbi of Yekaterinoslav, now called Dnepropetrovsk, in one of the largest regions of Ukraine. He served as rabbi there for decades, including the most difficult years of Communist rule. In particular, after the Frierdiker Rebbe was forced to leave Russia, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak remained, in effect, a leader of the Jewish people and of Chabad chassidim, as a member of the Schneerson family. With strength and true mesirus nefesh, he led Jewish life through those most difficult years, as is well known. Then, in 5699, he was arrested and subjected to an extremely harsh imprisonment. He endured terrible suffering and was subsequently sentenced to five years of exile in a completely remote town in Kazakhstan. There, too, he suffered greatly, physically and spiritually. He was in a non-Jewish village with no other Jews, barely able to obtain the minimum necessities for kashrus and Jewish life. There he developed the illness from which he never recovered. He passed away in 5704, on 20 Menachem Av. So let’s begin with a short story told by chassidim who were with him toward the end of his life. They already knew that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak had a malignant illness, rachmana litzlan. In his final moments he was extremely weak and could barely speak. The chassidim bent down to hear what he was saying. They heard Rabbi Levi Yitzchak speaking as if to himself. They could make out the words: “And Your footsteps were not known”—the words of a verse in Tehillim—“And Your footsteps were not known.” He said, “Oy, ikvesa d’Meshicha, Your footsteps were not known.” We cannot see the end. He was speaking about the exile, as though sighing over the long

02:52 and grueling exile. “Your footsteps”—ikvesa d’Meshicha. The Gemara at the end of Tractate Sotah speaks about the end of the exile, and about the decrees, difficulties, troubles, and suffering the Jewish people will face in the exile’s final moments. The Gemara calls this ikvesa d’Meshicha, the footsteps of Moshiach. It was in this connection that he quoted the verse in Tehillim, chapter 77: “Your footsteps were not known.” In other words, we cannot see the end. We do not know when this pain and suffering will end. We must remember that this was in the midst of World War II, and these were the words he spoke in his last moments. It is very interesting that these words were spoken on this day, which also always falls around the week when we read Parshas Eikev in the Torah. We are speaking about “Your footsteps,” ikvesa d’Meshicha, and our parsha, too, is Parshas Eikev. So let’s pause and understand the depth of this. It is not just another saying or another aphorism. When we reflect on these words, they contain depth upon depth, yes? There is a message here that helps us understand our role, our generation, what makes our generation unique, and the task of our generation. In fact, we will return to the weekly parsha—that is what we will discuss today. Yes? We will discuss the parsha’s name and its opening words, and delve into the word eikev, with which it begins. We will understand its connection to our time, when we find ourselves in the period of the heel, the period of ikvesa d’Meshicha, when Moshiach is already at the threshold. We feel it in everything happening around us. And we will understand what is so wonderful and unique about a Jew’s service of Hashem in these days. Now, the commentators ask a question about the verse, “And it will be, eikev, that you listen.” All the commentators ask: What does eikev mean? It is not the usual word. The verse means to say that if we do what

05:06 Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants, we will receive a great reward. The parsha is full of blessings, rewards, and wonderful things. “Hashem your G-d will keep for you the covenant, the kindness, and the oath that He swore to your forefathers,” followed by more wonderful blessings: “And Hashem will remove every illness from you,” and so on and so forth. So many wonderful blessings. All of this comes to us as a reward for listening to the voice of Hashem your G-d: “Eikev you listen,” and “you observe them and do them.” But the word eikev does not fit here. First, the usual word would be “if.” Second, eikev sounds like “because” or “since”—as though it is certain to happen. That raises a question: We are speaking about Torah and mitzvos, where we have free choice. “Choose life.” A Jew is not forced to observe Torah and mitzvos. A Jew has complete freedom to choose life and observe Torah and mitzvos. So how can it say eikev, implying that this is certain, when the appropriate word should be “if”? The commentators ask this question, and there are many explanations. For example, Rashi tells us: “‘And it will be, eikev’—if you listen to the mitzvos that a person treads on with his heels.” Rashi was addressing this difficulty. Rashi always explains the plain meaning of the verse, and here we see something interesting: he explains that eikev does not mean “because,” but refers to mitzvos that a person treads on with his heels. In other words, if we observe not only the important mitzvos but also the seemingly easy ones—the mitzvos a person is not so careful about, which he sees as too simple or too small, things that can be left until the end of the day—and we observe those, too, with care and joy, then Hakadosh Boruch Hu will grant us all these rewards. The commentators ask why Rashi explains it this way, and one explanation is indeed

07:09 that Rashi finds it difficult to understand why the Torah used an unusual word. Why does it say eikev instead of “if”? So Rashi tells us that eikev alludes to something more: a particular kind of mitzvah. Since the reward here is also of a special kind—the blessings later in the parsha are truly extraordinary. If we look closely at them, these blessings and rewards come from a place far loftier and more wonderful than usual. So the Torah says eikev to tell us to be careful specifically with the “heel” as well: the small mitzvos, the mitzvos a person treads on with his heels, which he leaves until last. If we observe those mitzvos, we will merit a special reward. That is Rashi’s explanation. There are other wonderful explanations among the Torah commentators, but I want to focus on one wonderful interpretation given by Rabbi Levi Yitzchak’s great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, whose descendant’s yahrzeit is this week. It gives us a wonderful foundation for understanding the life story of the holy tzaddik Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, as well as a special message for us in the days we are living through now. The Tzemach Tzedek says: The Rambam writes in Hilchos Teshuvah, “The Jewish people will be redeemed only through teshuvah.” In Hilchos Teshuvah, the Rambam discusses teshuvah—its essence, the mitzvah of teshuvah, how one does teshuvah, and many wonderful details. The Rambam devotes ten chapters to Hilchos Teshuvah, extraordinary chapters that explain the path of teshuvah. He also discusses free choice as a foundation of serving Hashem, explaining how choice and Hashem’s foreknowledge do not contradict each other—profound and fundamental matters. Later, the Rambam also discusses the great reward Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives the Jewish people: reward in the present and reward in the future. He speaks about the days of Moshiach, about the World to Come, about the foundations of Torah. Among these things, the Rambam says

09:23 The point is that the Jewish people will be redeemed only through teshuvah. This is a teaching of our Sages in the Gemara, Sanhedrin 97, where the Gemara discusses how the Geulah will come. There are two opinions there, Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua, and the Rambam rules like Rabbi Eliezer. Rabbi Eliezer says that the Geulah will come through the power of teshuvah. The Rambam continues: “The Torah has promised”—wonderful words in the Rambam’s golden language—“The Torah has promised that, at the end of their exile, the Jewish people will ultimately do teshuvah, and immediately they will be redeemed.” The Torah promises us that, at the end of the exile, a time will come when the Jewish people will do teshuvah, and that through the merit of that teshuvah they will immediately be redeemed. He cites the verses in Parshas Nitzavim: “You will seek Hashem your G-d from there,” “You will return to Hashem your G-d and listen to His voice with all your heart,” and then, “Hashem your G-d will restore your captives and have mercy on you,” and so on. From those verses we learn that, at the end of the exile, after all its sorrow, suffering, and pain, the Jewish people will return in teshuvah. “You will return to Hashem your G-d”—the Jewish people will return to Hakadosh Boruch Hu with complete teshuvah, “with all your heart,” and listen to His voice. Then Hakadosh Boruch Hu promises us that, through the merit of teshuvah, “Hashem your G-d will restore your captives.” He Himself will do it, as Rashi tells us there: Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself takes each person by the hand and brings him out of exile—“You, children of Israel, will be gathered one by one.” So the Rambam tells us in Hilchos Teshuvah that a time will come—and that time will be ikvesa d’Meshicha, the very end of the exile, its “heels”—when the Torah’s promise will be fulfilled. The Torah has promised that this will not go on forever. The time will come when Jews awaken to teshuvah. That is a certainty. True, we have free choice; a person can take his time and put it off day after day. But a time comes when it can no longer be put off. So the Torah promises us that, ultimately,

11:57 the time will come when the Jewish people will do teshuvah. This is certain; it is not in doubt. In fact, this is also alluded to in a verse in II Samuel, chapter 14, in the story of the woman of Tekoa who meets King David and speaks with him. Among other things, she says these wonderful words to him: “He devises ways so that no one banished from Him will remain banished.” The simple meaning, as the commentators explain, is that she was speaking to the king. The woman of Tekoa was a wise woman from the tribe of Asher; she had a special wisdom, associated with a place of oil, as explained in the Gemara and the commentaries. She came to speak to the king and persuade him of what she wanted, and then she said these words. On the simple level, she was telling the king to devise ways so that no one banished from him would remain banished—not to reject Avshalom, and so on. But other commentators explain, based on the Zohar—and this is discussed at length in Chassidus—that the verse is speaking, so to speak, about Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It tells us that, yes, there is free choice, but nevertheless, “He devises ways”: Hakadosh Boruch Hu is constantly thinking and planning ways “so that no one banished from Him will remain banished”—so that no Jew, G-d forbid, will remain estranged from Yiddishkeit, from Torah and mitzvos. Sometimes a soul goes through one cycle after another, year after year, through long periods of life. But in the end, Hakadosh Boruch Hu finds ways to awaken that Jew to teshuvah. That is what we mean when we say that the Torah has promised that a time will come when the Jewish people as a whole will do teshuvah. We are witnessing this in our own time, in our generation—the extraordinary power of teshuvah. We can see it clearly in recent years: thousands upon thousands, Jews from every walk of life, are awakening to teshuvah. And as Chassidus teaches us, people make the mistake of thinking teshuvah is only for those who commit sins, for transgressors. Teshuvah is for someone

14:36 who is far away. Chassidus says teshuvah is for every Jew. Even a Jew who observes Torah and mitzvos needs to do teshuvah, because teshuvah is infinite. Teshuvah means returning, drawing closer. And Hakadosh Boruch Hu is infinite, so however close you come, you can always come closer. That is what is being said here: “And it will be, eikev”—not “if,” but in ikvesa d’Meshicha, when the time of the “heel” comes, at the end of the exile, when we can already hear the footsteps of Moshiach approaching. Then, in ikvesa d’Meshicha, “and it will be, eikev”—a certainty, not a doubt—“you will surely listen,” says the Tzemach Tzedek. For the Jewish people will ultimately do teshuvah at the end of our exile, and immediately they will be redeemed. The time will come when they will certainly do teshuvah, and then the Geulah will certainly come. This teshuvah, this “you will listen” that the weekly parsha speaks to us about—the power of teshuvah found specifically in ikvesa d’Meshicha—is a teshuvah unlike any other. Why is it so special? Because it comes from an awareness of the thirst a Jew feels, from searching and asking, from wanting to draw closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The maamarim on Parshas Eikev explain the depth of the teshuvah found specifically in our generation, in ikvesa d’Meshicha, more than in any earlier era. They explain the verse in Shir Hashirim: “I am dark, yet beautiful, daughters of Jerusalem.” We know that Shir Hashirim speaks of the Jewish people; its bridegroom and bride are Hakadosh Boruch Hu and the Jewish people. So to speak, the Jewish people in exile say, “I am dark”—darkened by the darkness of exile, by sorrow, suffering, and pain. “I am dark,” but “beautiful”: precisely there, the inner beauty of the Jewish people is revealed. And who is saying this? The soul below says it to the soul above. According to Chassidus, “daughters of Jerusalem” refers to the soul as it exists above in Gan Eden, in the World to Come, beneath the Throne of Glory. Souls, after all, are hewn from beneath the Throne of Glory.

17:25 When the soul is above in Gan Eden, in that world, the World of Truth, before it descends here into a body, it is in the state of the “daughters of Jerusalem.” Jerusalem means complete awe. There, the soul has awe and love, connection and attachment. Above, the soul sees G-dliness, hears G-dliness, comprehends G-dliness; it loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu and stands in awe of Him. Its entire being is in the most wonderful state of attachment and connection to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. “The righteous sit with their crowns on their heads and enjoy the radiance of the Shechinah.” That is the soul above. Then the soul descends into this world. As we say every morning, “The soul You have given me is pure.” It is pure; in its essence the soul is pure and wondrous, “truly a part of G-d above,” as the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya. But it descends into this world: “You created it, You formed it, You breathed it into me, and You preserve it within me”—inside a physical body of flesh and blood, with an evil inclination and an animal soul, surrounded by a dark world of kelipos and sitra achra. “I am dark.” All the more so in exile, when the darkness intensifies upon darkness. And all the more so in ikvesa d’Meshicha, as the exile grows darker: “Darkness will cover the earth, and thick clouds the nations.” And yet, “I am beautiful.” Why beautiful? Because it is precisely out of the darkness that the soul’s deepest thirst for Hakadosh Boruch Hu awakens. “I am dark, yet beautiful.” The soul above does not have this... it does not have this quality. Above, it has love, awe, and attachment. But this thirst, this deep, essential devotion to Hakadosh Boruch Hu—a Jew’s complete surrender to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, arising from the depths of the soul—awakens precisely here below, in this world, in the darkness. That is attained specifically through the thirst born of the darkness of exile, as the Alter Rebbe said in the name of the Baal Shem Tov: “A psalm of David when he was in the Judean desert: My soul thirsts for You; my flesh yearns for You in a dry and weary land without

19:48 water.” The wilderness of Judah symbolizes galus—the darkness of galus, specifically in the wilderness of Judah. When the soul is in a state of wilderness, it is in an empty place. As it says in the weekly parsha, “the great and terrifying wilderness,” a place of “snakes, fiery serpents and scorpions, and thirst where there is no water.” This symbolizes the darkness of galus: the great and terrifying wilderness, the thirst where there is no water, the snakes, fiery serpents and scorpions. They represent all the darkness, evil and impurity in the world—the yetzer hara pursuing us with every desire and pleasure. And it is precisely here, in this great wilderness, in the wilderness of Judah. Yehudah is the Jew who says Modeh Ani, who gives himself over to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He acknowledges and knows the truth—that this is the only truth—and gives himself over to it. Then, “My soul thirsts for You.” The Alter Rebbe said that the greatest thirst is specifically “in a dry and weary land without water.” “So I have seen You in the sanctuary.” The soul says: If only! This is how the Baal Shem Tov explained it: If only, when we are in holiness, in holy places, in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, we would have the thirst the soul feels when it is in the darkness of galus. “I am dark, but beautiful.” And this is the meaning of the verse, “And it shall be, because you heed”—specifically in the footsteps of Moshiach. Precisely at the level of the heel, in the darkness of galus, a Jew is stirred to “heed,” to “keep and do all these ordinances,” giving himself over to serving Hakadosh Boruch Hu in thought, speech and action. How does it say it? “You shall heed, you shall keep and you shall do.” Those are the three things: thought, speech and action. And we gain this specifically in the darkness of galus. This, in turn, is what will bring the light of the Geulah. This is what the Rambam tells us, based on this verse in the weekly parsha: in the footsteps of Moshiach, the Torah promises that the Jewish people will ultimately do teshuvah at the end of their galus, and they will immediately be redeemed. And the holy Ohr Hachaim points out that “ve’hayah” always denotes joy. Precisely from this feeling

22:31 comes the good, joyous news we see today: right now, Jews are awakening to teshuvah. “Ve’hayah” denotes joy: despite all the darkness, a Jew is filled with great joy and serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This brings great joy, so to speak, to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Hashem rejoices with the greatest joy when darkness is transformed into light. As the Alter Rebbe says in Tanya, “Let Israel rejoice in its Maker.” The Alter Rebbe says: Every person of the Jewish people should rejoice in Hashem’s joy, for He rejoices and delights in His dwelling in the lower realms. In other words, Hakadosh Boruch Hu has a wondrous joy. His greatest joy is seeing how, precisely in this lowly, dark world, a Jew, through his faith, his thirst and his devotion, transforms things despite the darkness. He turns darkness into light by holding fast to his connection and devotion to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This joy brings about the great and wondrous joy Above. In its merit, may we be privileged, already in these days—when we see the world moving in great strides toward the complete Geulah—to move from the footsteps of Moshiach to seeing Moshiach’s approach. May we be privileged to see the complete Geulah and the fulfillment of all the blessings in the weekly parsha, up to the wonderful words at the end of the parsha: “Every place upon which the sole of your foot treads shall be yours.” The Jewish people will prevail in every war and take possession of the land. And from the wilderness, it says there, “to the river, the Euphrates River”—the Land of Israel within its borders, and the greater Land of Israel as well, including the lands of the Kenites, Kenizzites and Kadmonites. May we be privileged to see this speedily in our days. Amen, may it be His will.