How to Live Joyfully Even in Difficult Times | Parshas Vayechi in Light of Chassidus

00:00 We’re finishing the Book of Bereishis, and when we read its last verse, everyone stands up together. As is customary, people bang on the bimah, and we finish the verse with excitement. The Torah reader reads it aloud, and then the whole congregation shouts together: “Chazak, chazak, venischazek!”—“Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen ourselves!” Yes, this is Shabbos Chazak. Some also make a special kiddush, a special farbrengen. The Rebbe spoke about this too, about the chassidic custom of holding a special farbrengen for Shabbos Chazak. But there’s something remarkable here that some people may not notice. We say “Chazak, chazak, venischazek,” meaning that we draw strength. The Gemara says that certain things need strengthening; Torah needs strengthening. So by completing the Torah reading, we draw strength from it, and we bless and wish one another that we’ll grow stronger and continue on with the Torah. But usually, the strength a person draws from the Torah is also connected to the content of what we’re reading. What are these words of Torah? What is the Torah telling us? When we look at the last verse of Bereishis, that verse, on the face of it, isn’t particularly strengthening. The Torah ends by telling us that Yosef Hatzaddik died, “and he was placed in a coffin in Egypt.” The Torah tells us that Yosef Hatzaddik—the one who supplied food throughout the land, who protected his brothers and cared for them, and so on—died. And not only that: “He was placed in a coffin.” Where? In Egypt. When we think about it, not only does this seem not to give us strength; it could even leave us feeling somewhat weakened. After all, in this very parsha, Parshas Vayechi, we read how Yaakov Avinu pleads with his son Yosef: Please don’t leave me in Egypt. “Please do not bury me in Egypt; carry me out of Egypt.” He begs Yosef to take him out.

02:26 He wants to go to Eretz Yisroel. He wants Yosef to use all his connections with Pharaoh—the whole account of the oath he makes Yosef swear, requiring him to take him to Eretz Yisroel. Yosef swears to him and does everything necessary. The parsha tells us about that whole process. But poor Yosef has no one to—as they say, Yosef himself doesn’t have a Yosef. In other words, he has no one to use their connections on his behalf. Poor Yosef remains in Egypt, and with that we finish the Book of Bereishis, Parshas Vayechi, and say, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek.” So that’s what we’ll discuss today. We’ll explain what there is in the last verse of the parsha that gives us strength. And the question goes further. First of all, how can we say “Chazak, chazak, venischazek” over a verse like that? But there’s also the question of how the Torah itself can end with such a verse. Generally, there’s a principle of ending on a good note. As we know, with many things we always try to end with a blessing, with something good, with something positive. But here the Torah doesn’t seem to take that into account. It ends with a story that appears negative, and over that very story we say, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek.” What’s going on here? What’s the story? Today we’ll discuss two explanations the Rebbe gave in consecutive years. One was given in 5746, exactly forty years ago, and the other in 5747, the following year. Each stands on its own, but both are wonderful explanations from which we can, of course, also draw strength for our own times. One of the things the Rebbe taught us, based on the Alter Rebbe’s teaching, is to live with the weekly parsha, not just study it. So here too, this question isn’t

04:37 just a question about Jewish custom or the plain meaning of the text. There’s also a message here, a lesson and guidance for our lives today. So we’ll discuss both explanations and see how important they are for our everyday lives. The first explanation concerns the story of Yosef Hatzaddik: Yosef Hatzaddik died in Egypt and was placed in a coffin in Egypt. When we look more deeply at this verse, it actually expresses the entire theme of the Book of Bereishis. We can understand this from Rashi’s very first comment, at the beginning of Bereishis. Here we’ll see something remarkable: connecting the beginning with the end. As we know, when making a siyum on a tractate, there’s a custom to connect its beginning to its end, in keeping with what Sefer Yetzirah says: “Their beginning is bound to their end, and their end to their beginning.” In matters of holiness, the end and the beginning are connected. Here too there’s a very interesting connection: understanding the last verse, and understanding the blessing and the strength we draw from that verse about Yosef Hatzaddik, is actually connected to the Torah’s first verse. The Torah opens, “In the beginning, G-d created the heavens and the earth.” Rashi addresses this in his first comment: “Rabbi Yitzchak said.” Rashi asks the famous question: “Rabbi Yitzchak said: The Torah should have begun only with ‘This month shall be for you.’” What is the account of Bereishis doing in the Torah? Rashi’s question is that Torah means instruction. The Torah is a book of instructions, laws, mitzvos, and a path in serving Hashem for the Jewish people. So the Torah should begin where the Jewish people and the instructions to them begin: with the passage “This month shall be for you.” After the Jews had endured the long exile in Egypt, the good news arrived: Moshe Rabbeinu told them they were leaving exile, and then gave them their first mitzvos—

06:48 the mitzvah of sanctifying the new month, the mitzvah of Pesach, and the matzos, which we’ll learn about in Parshas Bo. That’s where the Torah should have begun. Rashi’s question is: Why does the Torah tell us the whole long, beautiful story of the creation of the world and the Patriarchs? Rashi tells us that it is because “He declared the power of His deeds to His people, to give them the inheritance of nations.” Rashi quotes this verse from Tehillim, which tells us that the Torah relates the story of Bereishis to explain the Jewish people’s claim to Eretz Yisroel. If the nations of the world come and accuse the Jewish people, saying, “You are robbers! You took from us the land of the seven nations; you took a land that belongs to us,” we’ll answer them: The whole earth belongs to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He created it and gave it to whomever He saw fit. He first gave it to them, and then He took it from them and gave it to us. That’s Rashi’s first comment, a famous Rashi, as relevant as ever. It’s a Rashi that’s alive and breathing in our times. As the Rebbe spoke about so often, Rashi is studying with a five-year-old child. Rashi, as we know, explains the plain meaning of Scripture. Rashi is the best teacher, and he sits down to study with a Jewish child living in France in the Middle Ages, during the dark times we know about—the difficult times in which Rashi lived, the Crusades. Rashi studies with a Jewish child, instills in him Jewish pride, and tells him: The Torah begins with Bereishis to give a Jew strength, so that he knows how to answer the nations of the world when they call him a robber. But this raises a simple question: What kind of answer is that, seemingly? What does it explain? The question is why the Torah needs to begin with this. Why does the Torah open with this story?

08:54 Where is the answer to that question? If a non-Jew comes and asks, does the Torah need to begin with this story just for that? So that if a non-Jew comes and shouts at us that we are robbers, we will have an answer—is that why the Torah needs to begin with this story? Let’s say it is an important issue, one that matters. There is an answer here, but why does it need to be at the beginning of the Torah? Why does the Torah need to address it in Bereishis, with this whole long account, just so that if a non-Jew comes and complains, we will have an answer? Rather, there is something much deeper here. This is not just any question. It is an utterly fundamental question that helps us understand the entire essence of the Torah, the essence of the Jewish people, and our purpose in the world. Because, at its heart, the question is not just about a particular piece of land. On the surface, you learn Rashi and say: There is a dispute here over the land of Israel. There are Arabs, there are the nations of the world, who come and claim it is theirs; we say it is ours, and we argue over territory. But it is a much deeper question. There is a fundamental, underlying question that the non-Jew is asking. And it is not only the nations of the world. Look at Rashi: Rashi does not say that the Canaanites complained. Rashi says “the nations of the world.” It is a general question asked by the entire world, by all the nations, everywhere. The question is much deeper than it appears on the surface. At its root, the question is this: The nations of the world also know that the Jewish people are a special people. They, too, know the truth—that the Jewish people are the chosen people. They have no doubt about it. They know that Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose the Jewish people and gave us the Torah. They

10:55 know, as the Midrash says, that when the Torah was given, the whole world knew about it. “Hashem sat enthroned at the Flood, and Hashem sits enthroned as King forever.” All the nations came to Bilam and asked him, “What is happening here?” He told them about the giving of the Torah, the Exodus from Egypt. We know from the verses and the Midrashim that all the nations knew Hakadosh Boruch Hu was choosing the Jewish people. The non-Jew’s complaint, the complaint of the nations of the world, is not only theirs. Sometimes what we call the “non-Jew within” asks it too. The yetzer hara sometimes asks the same question, in one form or another: What connection do we have to the world? What connection do we have to land? The Jewish people are a spiritual people. They are a people of Torah, a holy people, a G-dly people. What do they have to do with physical land, with territory? It does not belong to them. The whole idea of conquest, of a country, of land and territory—those are things that belong to the nations of the world. The nations of the world belong to the world; they are connected to creation, to the reality of this world. So the nations build their countries. They need territory, they need to belong to some physical place. That defines them; that is their character, their reality. But the Jewish people are not a people defined by a country. They are a holy people, a spiritual people. They are not supposed to live in a particular country; they are not supposed to be connected to land at all. They are a people who should live in a spiritual world, in spiritual circumstances, connected to spiritual things. Why, then, should they take control of a land, of territory, of physicality, of a place? It has nothing to do with them; it is not their place. They belong to the World to Come, not to this world at all. This is a question asked by

12:51 all the nations of the world. It is a question a person asks himself: What does a Jew have to do with the world? A Jew is something else. And this is what Rashi comes to tell us in the very first verse: On the contrary—the opposite is true. “In the beginning, G-d created the heavens and the earth.” As Rashi goes on to say, Bereishis can be read as “for two things called reishis”: for the Torah and for the Jewish people. All of creation was created for the Jewish people and the Torah. In other words, Rashi teaches us in the first verse that the Torah opens with Bereishis to explain precisely the opposite. The Jewish people, the people of the Torah, are not disconnected from the world. The whole idea of Torah and mitzvos, of Judaism and the holiness of the Jewish people, is to transform the material world into a place of holiness, to bring Hakadosh Boruch Hu into the material world, into the world and its physicality—to make the world a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the purpose of a Jew. So not only is there no contradiction; on the contrary, this is the entire purpose of creation. It is the whole purpose of the soul’s descent—the soul that is “truly a part of G-d above.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought it down from a lofty place, from Gan Eden and the higher worlds, into this physical world, where it was clothed in a body, in order to transform the world into a holy place and bring G-dly holiness into reality, into creation. And so the giving of the Torah was not going to take place in a spiritual world. The Torah was given in the physical world. The Jewish people are here in this world, and the Jewish people conquer the land of Israel. Our task is to transform the entire world into a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. As the Midrash tells us, the whole purpose is that Hakadosh Boruch Hu desired a dwelling place for Himself in this lower world—that we should make the physical world a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the purpose of creation, and that is the whole idea of the Book of Bereishis. This is what Rashi gives us in his very first comment, to explain exactly

14:58 what the story of the Book of Bereishis is about, from beginning to end. The Patriarchs—Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov—what did they do here in the world? They made the world a dwelling place for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. All the stories of the Patriarchs tell us how our forefathers traveled from place to place, and wherever they went, they brought the name of Hakadosh Boruch Hu into the world. “And there he called upon the name of Hashem, G-d of the world.” Avraham Avinu, the first Jew, travels through Charan, then goes up to the land of Israel, and then goes down to Egypt. Wherever he goes, he brings Hakadosh Boruch Hu to that place. That is Avraham. Then Yitzchak does it in his way, and Yaakov in his own story. The Patriarchs. Their role, as the Midrashim and Chassidus say, was that they were a chariot for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. They revealed that the world is, in fact, Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s place. That is the essence of the Book of Bereishis. And of all those who lived in that period, of all our forefathers, when we come to Yosef we find this expressed in the deepest way. With Yosef Hatzaddik, even more than with the Patriarchs, we see it in this particular respect: Yosef, as one of the tribes, is no longer one of the Patriarchs. He is counted among the tribes of Israel. But among the tribes, Yosef stands out in this regard. He is the one who goes down to Egypt, to a city and country of impurity, a country full of idols—“the nakedness of the land,” as it says—and there, in that very place, he brings in holiness. Yosef is in the most materialistic place of that time. Egypt was a symbol of idolatry, a symbol of impurity. And Yosef is not daunted by it. He is there, he lives there, he works there, and he brings purity, holiness, and spirituality. He prepares that place for the Jewish people, who will soon arrive and have to spend a long period in exile there, with that same purpose: to bring holiness into the reality of the world, to transform

17:14 the entire world. As we said, it is not just the seven nations. All the nations of the world ask the question. A Jew has a mission in every place in the world. As is well known, the Tzemach Tzedek’s famous saying is that wherever a Jew finds himself, he must make that place into Eretz Yisroel. The place where Hakadosh Boruch Hu has put you through Divine providence is not just somewhere to earn your living, or whatever else you may do there. You must turn it into Eretz Yisroel, bringing holiness to that place. That is the purpose of creation, and that is what the Book of Bereishis is about. This is what the Torah tells us at the end of the parsha. Because this was Yosef HaTzaddik’s particular mission. In addition to the patriarchs’ mission, it was even stronger in his case. That is why Yaakov Avinu tells Yosef, “Please do not bury me in Egypt.” Yaakov, as one of the patriarchs, needed to be above Egypt. He needed to return to Eretz Yisroel. He needed to be in the Cave of Machpelah. That was his place as one of the patriarchs: Adam, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov, the four couples who needed to be in the Cave of Machpelah, in a place above Egypt, and from there watch over the Jewish people, care for them and pray for them. For it is known that the Cave of Machpelah is the place through which all the prayers of the Jewish people ascend and connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is why the place is called Chevron, from the word chibur, “connection.” Yosef, however, had the mission of entering exile and being with the Jewish people within exile, giving them the strength to serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu there. The Zohar says this in the weekly parsha—a wonderful passage in the Zohar. It says that Yaakov Avinu explained to Yosef: I need to be in Eretz Yisroel to complete the arrangement of four and four, to complete the Cave of Machpelah. That is my place.

19:09 I need to be in a place above it all. That is my mission. But you, Yosef, have a different mission. You need to be with the Jewish people in exile and give them the strength to make Egypt into a place of holiness. Yosef began this work, and that is what enabled the Jewish people to do it throughout all the years of exile. So here it is the other way around: the last verse captures the essence of the Book of Bereishis. Why does the Torah begin with Bereishis, we ask? Why not go straight to “This month shall be for you”? Why? Because this is the purpose of the Torah, the purpose of creation and the purpose of the Jewish people: to make Egypt into a place of holiness. Yosef dies and is not immediately taken up to Eretz Yisroel. “He was placed in a coffin in Egypt,” just as the Jewish people are beginning a period of difficult years in Egyptian exile. And it is not just a matter of refusing to be intimidated by Egypt. On the contrary, the Jews in Egypt would make it, as it says, “like the depths of the sea without fish, like a granary without grain.” They carried out the work of refining the sparks there, turning Egypt into a place of purity and holiness through the service of the Jewish people. By whose strength? By the strength of “he was placed in a coffin in Egypt.” And over this we say, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek”—be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened. For the Book of Bereishis as a whole, which is called the Book of the Upright because of the patriarchs, and especially its final verse, gives a Jew encouragement, strength and a message: how a Jew lives in this world, how a Jew lives during exile, and how a Jew understands his goal—to turn the lands of the world, the lands of the nations, into the Holy Land; to make our world a land of holiness. This was an explanation the Rebbe gave at a farbrengen on Shabbos Parshas Vayechi in 5746. The following year, 5747, was a very special year. The explanation the Rebbe gave a year later is especially powerful if we know the atmosphere of

21:14 that time. In 5747, during the month of Teves, came the well-known victory in the case concerning the sefarim. It was a time of tremendous joy, happiness and significance. The Rebbe was exceedingly joyful. As the Rebbe explained then, there had been a major accusation against the whole endeavor of spreading Chassidus throughout the world and preparing the world for the Geulah. It had been a difficult, dark period. When the victory came, it broke through something and brought light—light to the chassidim and light to the world. On Shabbos Parshas Vayechi, the Rebbe held a farbrengen and returned to the question he had discussed the year before. Why does the Torah end by saying that Yosef died and remained buried in Egypt? And why do we say over this, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek”? Here the Rebbe pointed to another wonderful explanation, one that was especially powerful in the atmosphere of those days. The Rebbe spoke about it with particular fervor. It was something tremendous. The Rebbe focused here on a Jew in the darkness of exile. In these parshiyos, we are now beginning the exile. Let’s put ourselves in the Jewish people’s shoes for a moment. Yaakov Avinu dies in the weekly parsha, and the Jewish people begin to experience a different kind of life. They enter a dark, long exile of backbreaking labor. We begin the Book of Shemos: “The Egyptians made the Children of Israel work with backbreaking labor.” Pharaoh begins imposing terrible, harsh decrees on the Jewish people. A Jew finds himself in the darkness of exile, a deep darkness. He cannot see the light; he cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. He asks himself: What is going to happen here? Where am I? He may feel depressed, lonely, surrounded by darkness and gloom. But suddenly he remembers: I am not alone. Yosef HaTzaddik is here with me in Egypt. When a Jew is in Egypt and all sorts of painful thoughts of loneliness and darkness enter his mind, suddenly clarity enters his mind and heart. He realizes: Wait, I am not alone. Yosef HaTzaddik has not left me.

23:47 He asked to stay here with me in Egypt. He is here with me, where I am, so I know I can be at ease. This, too, is said in the Zohar we mentioned earlier: it is what Yaakov explained to Yosef. You will be in Egypt, and by virtue of that, Jews will not be overcome by exile. By virtue of that, even when Jews are in Egyptian exile, with all its hardship and backbreaking labor, they will have a spirit of Geulah. They will be in a different place inwardly. It will uplift them, strengthen them and give them the power to go on. The Rebbe spoke about this with tremendous force, and spoke in this connection about the previous Rebbe, the Frierdiker Rebbe. In those days, the entire discussion of the accusation and the court case concerning the sefarim was connected with the Frierdiker Rebbe. The Rebbe pointed out that the Frierdiker Rebbe was named Yosef, just like Yosef HaTzaddik. And with the Frierdiker Rebbe, too, we see something remarkable: he came to America, lived there for the last ten years of his life, and when he passed away, he asked to remain in America. He could have arranged and requested to be taken up to Eretz Yisroel, but he did not. Where is the Ohel, the resting place of the Frierdiker Rebbe? Precisely outside Eretz Yisroel—in a place that, in this respect, lacks the virtues of Eretz Yisroel, despite everything we know about how the sages praised Eretz Yisroel and burial there, and all that is written on the subject. Nevertheless, this is Yosef HaTzaddik saying: I want to be where the Jewish people are in their exile, where my flock is. He remains with them to watch over them. When a Jew is outside Eretz Yisroel, Moshiach has not yet come, and he is still in exile, with a difficult, dark mission among the nations of the world, he knows that the tzaddik is with him, that the tzaddik does not leave him—that even the tzaddik’s physical body is here with him outside Eretz Yisroel, in Egypt. So that is

26:04 The greatest strength of “Chazak, chazak, venischazek”—“Be strong, be strong, and let us be strengthened”—comes from knowing: I am not alone. My Rebbe is here with me, and he shares my pain. And if the Rebbe is with me, then I am not trapped in that pain. If the Rebbe is here, I know I can rise above exile, above the darkness. I can live in an atmosphere of Geulah even though the world around me is in a state of exile. That is the message, the strength, the “Chazak, chazak, venischazek” that the final words of the weekly parsha give us. The Rebbe pointed out that 10 Teves, which falls this week, also begins the thirty days before Yud Shvat, the day of the Frierdiker Rebbe’s passing. The Rebbe spoke then about using those thirty days to prepare for that great day. Reflecting on the fact that the tzaddik is here with us gives us the strength to live—to truly live—even in the difficult moments of exile. It gives us the strength to face the darkness of exile, to be joyful, to serve Hashem with joy, love, and a glad heart, and to prepare ourselves for a life of Geulah. And that, in fact, is what we see from the Rebbe in this period. Of course, this message is so powerful, so clear, so vivid for us today when we reflect on it. And, of course, when we study the Rebbe’s [unclear] together, we see how he is with us in these final moments of exile. He teaches us how a Jew, even while in exile, is not in exile. Even while in exile, he lives in an atmosphere of Geulah. How much the Rebbe taught us—in his sichos, in his maamarim, in his teachings, and by his example—that a Jew is not overwhelmed by exile. A Jew lives in an atmosphere of Geulah by learning about the Geulah.

28:15 By studying the Midrashim, the teachings of our Sages, and Chassidus, a Jew can be here and yet rise into a completely different atmosphere. That is the message of “Chazak, chazak, venischazek.” Now, as we read Parshas Vayechi this Shabbos, we can draw life from the parsha’s very name: Vayechi, “and he lived.” We finish the parsha with the words, “And he was placed in a coffin in Egypt,” and to that we respond, “Chazak, chazak, venischazek.” This gives every one of us strength in these final moments of exile, when there are sometimes moments of darkness, moments of difficulty, moments when a person feels that he is in Egypt. But knowing, paying attention to, and recognizing that Yosef the tzaddik is with us in Egypt—and that he gives us the ability to live above exile, above the darkness, above the constraints—gives us the strength to bring Geulah into exile and enter an atmosphere of Geulah. May we truly merit that these days upon us now, beginning with 10 Teves—days associated with exile—be transformed into days of Geulah, as the verse says: “days of joy and gladness and festive occasions.” Amen.