The last teaching heard from Reb Levik before his passing

00:00 We’re close to 20 Menachem Av on the one hand, and close to 15 Av on the other. Yesterday was 15 Av. There were no Yomim Tovim for the Jewish people like 15 Av. And now we’re also close to 20 Menachem Av, the yahrzeit of the Rebbe’s father. And the weekly parsha is Parshas Eikev. So let’s begin with a story about the Rebbe’s father, Reb Levik. Rebbetzin Chana relates that toward the end of his life, Reb Levik suffered terribly. He had shown mesirus nefesh for spreading Yiddishkeit and the wellsprings of Chassidus in Russia. He then spent five years in Siberia—sorry, five years in exile, first in prison and then in exile—until he passed away from the suffering caused by the lack of food and other basic necessities, as Rebbetzin Chana recounts in her memoirs. One of the things she relates is that in his very last hours, they could barely make out what he was trying to say. At one point, one of the chassidim came close to try to hear him. The last words they heard were as though he was speaking to himself, with a kind of sigh. He said, “Ah, ikvesa d’Meshicha, ikvesa d’Meshicha, ‘and Your footsteps were not known.’” That is the wording of the verse in Tehillim: “And Your footsteps were not known.” The footsteps, the heels of Moshiach, the footsteps of the Geulah, were not known; the end of the exile was not in sight. Those were the last words they heard. After that, he tried to say a few more things, but they could no longer make them out. So those were the last words they managed to hear from Reb Levik on 20 Av, the day of his passing. And these words are really the very theme of Parshas Eikev. The weekly parsha says, “And it shall be, eikev, when you heed,” and the name of the parsha is Eikev. As is well known, the Rebbe raises in maamarim

02:54 and sichos the familiar question: Why does it say, “And it shall be, eikev, when you heed”? It should have said, “And it shall be, if you heed.” That is the usual word in Lashon Hakodesh: “And it shall be, if you heed these ordinances and observe and perform them,” then “Hashem your G-d will keep for you the covenant, the kindness, and the oath” that He swore to your forefathers, along with all the blessings that follow in the parsha. Why does it say eikev? And that is the name of the parsha: Eikev. The explanation connects to what Reb Levik said, to the idea of ikvesa. The Rebbe speaks about this often in maamarim on the weekly parsha: eikev alludes to ikvesa d’Meshicha, the footsteps of Moshiach. The Rebbe always cites this in the name of the Tzemach Tzedek, who explains “And it shall be, eikev, when you heed.” It does not say “if”; it says eikev. What is the allusion here, says the Tzemach Tzedek? In ikvesa d’Meshicha, at the end of the exile, the time of the heels, when the exile is reaching its end, when we are touching the end and arriving at the moment of “feet meeting feet,” when the feet of the exile meet the feet of Moshiach—then, precisely then, “you will heed.” It will certainly happen. It is not “if”; there is no doubt. You will certainly heed. It is certain that Jews will do teshuvah in the final moments of the exile. As the Rebbe cites from the Rambam, in his well-known statement in Hilchos Teshuvah: “The Torah has promised that ultimately the Jewish people will do teshuvah at the end of their exile, and immediately they will be redeemed.” The Torah promises us this in the verse in Parshas Nitzavim that says, “And you will return to Hashem your G-d.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu promises that at the end of the exile, “you will return”: the Jewish people will return to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. After that comes “And Hashem your G-d will bring back your exiles and have mercy on you,” when the exiles will be gathered in and we will return to Eretz Yisroel. So that is what the Tzemach Tzedek is saying. The Rebbe cites it in maamarim on the weekly parsha, on 20 Av: the Torah tells

05:23 us, “And it shall be”—it will happen. This is not something in doubt. Eikev means that in ikvesa d’Meshicha, at the end of the exile, when the Torah has promised it, it is no longer a question of “if,” perhaps, of free choice. No. The time will come when, eikev, in ikvesa d’Meshicha, “you will heed.” The Jewish people will most certainly do teshuvah and immediately be redeemed, as the verses go on to describe. In one sicha, the Rebbe focuses on a striking point in the weekly parsha. It says, “And it shall be, eikev, when you heed these ordinances.” It begins, seemingly, with something connected to a person’s avodah: “When you heed these ordinances, and observe and perform them”—a Jew keeping Torah and mitzvos. It says “you heed,” “you observe,” and “you perform,” which the Rebbe says correspond to thought, speech, and action. Hearing is in thought: a person thinks as he hears; he listens with his mind. “You observe” is with the mouth. The Gemara says that guarding is with the mouth: speaking about what one learns helps one retain and remember it. And “you perform” is action. Thought, speech, and action: when a Jew serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu in thought, speech, and action, then “Hashem your G-d will keep for you the covenant, the kindness, and the oath,” along with all the blessings that follow. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is with them: “And Hashem will remove from you every illness,” and so on. This raises a question. The Rebbe asks a simple question here: It says, “Hashem your G-d will keep the covenant, the kindness, and the oath.” Think about those words—covenant, kindness, and oath. All three describe things that come to us even when we do not deserve them. That is the whole essence of a covenant. What is a covenant? As Chassidus always explains, why do people make a covenant? They make a covenant so that even if we have an argument, even if we do not get along, even if there are reasons to break

07:34 the bond of love, we have made a covenant. That is its whole purpose: nothing will break our connection, even if we do not deserve it. The same is true of an oath. A person swears that even if there are difficulties, obstacles, delays, or things that get in the way, “I have sworn.” “By Myself I have sworn, says Hashem.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu swore an oath. So this is beyond reason and understanding. The same is true of kindness. Kindness means giving without calculations. Chassidus often explains the difference between kindness and mercy. Kindness involves no calculations; it is giving without limit. Avraham Avinu, whose attribute was kindness, gave to everyone. If so, there is a contradiction between the beginning and the end of the verse. At the beginning it says, “Eikev, when you heed these ordinances and observe and perform them.” That implies that the blessings come as a reward for what we do. But then it says no: they will come as a covenant, kindness, and an oath. A covenant, kindness, and an oath mean giving from Above without conditions or calculations, even when it is undeserved. So how do these two parts of the weekly parsha fit together? The Rebbe has a wonderful sicha on this in Likkutei Sichos, volume 9—a wonderful explanation. It is actually from a farbrengen in 5711, the first year of the Rebbe’s leadership. The Rebbe laid out this foundation there, speaking about it both in a maamar and in sichos. Later, this sicha was published in Likkutei Sichos, volume 9. This whole foundation: the Rebbe establishes a central principle for our avodah today, for our lives today. The Rebbe explains that, broadly speaking, there are two ways of serving Hashem. There is a way of serving Hashem that works measure for measure, an avodah built on an orderly accounting: you do something, and you receive something in return. An arousal

09:34 From below, an awakening from above. A person’s avodah is the vessel, and it draws down the response. There is measure for measure: what I do determines what I bring about through my avodah. That is the ordinary way of serving Hashem. But there is a way of serving Hashem in which what is given comes entirely from a place beyond all reckoning. It seems that this is something Hakadosh Boruch Hu gives from a place where the person and his avodah, what he does, have no significance at all. It is entirely above the order of creation; it comes from the Infinite Light, from the very highest place. But because Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants a Jew to receive everything in a way that involves his own efforts—even the things He gives us as a gift, even things Hashem gives us from the highest place—He wants the person to have a part in this too. So even there, there is avodah on the person’s part. This is the well-known expression always cited in Chassidus, the idea of “bread of shame”: a person should not be in a position of receiving something he has done nothing to earn. Someone who receives gifts without having done anything does not appreciate them, does not feel comfortable with them, is embarrassed by them, and so on. So even with things that come from the very highest place, there is avodah. But it is a different kind of avodah. Here, it is not that your avodah, your own being, your actions, are on a level that could bring down what is given. No, there is no comparison at all. On the contrary, it is about bittul, about self-nullification. The person does work, but in his avodah he feels: This is not from me. This is not my own way of doing things, my own being, my intellect, or my feelings. This

11:28 does not come from where I am; it comes from complete self-nullification before Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And the Rebbe’s explanation of this is wonderful. This is eikev, the footsteps of Moshiach. This is precisely the point, the way of serving Hashem in our generation, in our time, just before the coming of Moshiach. Broadly speaking, this is the difference between the time of the Beis Hamikdash and the time of exile, particularly this period. What is the point? Chassidus explains this, and the Rebbe explains it wonderfully in the sicha. On the one hand, we know—it is always said—that when the Beis Hamikdash stood, serving Hashem was on a much higher level than it is now. People could see G-dliness. Ten miracles took place in the Beis Hamikdash. A Jew would enter the Beis Hamikdash and see the Divine revelation of the Shechinah. He would see ten miracles; he would see that the Aron Hakodesh took up no measurable space. He would see such great revelations. G-dliness was visibly apparent. There was an understanding of G-dliness. When the Beis Hamikdash stood, as the Rebbe says in Likkutei Torah, people had a wondrous understanding of even the loftiest matters of G-dliness. There was wondrous sight and wondrous understanding, and consequently, wondrous self-nullification. A Jew would enter the Beis Hamikdash and see the kohanim and Levi’im, the Beis Hamikdash, and the miracles and wonders visible to the naked eye there. And immediately he would—how does the verse put it?—bow down. Right? “To go up, to be seen, and to bow down.” Just as he came to see, so he came to be seen. People would enter the Beis Hamikdash, and the Shechinah was revealed. You saw the Shechinah, the Shechinah saw you, and they bowed down, nullifying themselves completely. So the bittul when the Beis Hamikdash stood was of an extraordinarily lofty level. Now we do not have that. We say in the prayers, “Because of our sins we were exiled from our land and distanced from our soil, and we cannot go up, be seen, and bow down.” We have no way of attaining the self-nullification that existed when the Beis Hamikdash stood. We do not have it at all. We do not see G-dliness. On the contrary, “darkness covers the earth”;

13:24 the world is full of darkness, of concealment and hiddenness. Throughout the exile, we do not see. And our understanding of G-dliness today is not at all comparable to what it once was. So what happens? It would seem that we do not have that bittul. On the other hand, Chassidus says there is something deeper: the bittul of netzach, of determination—the bittul that comes from the soul’s power of netzach, from mesirus nefesh. It is found specifically in exile, and specifically in the period of ikvesa d’Meshicha, the “heels” of Moshiach. And here comes the well-known analogy brought in the maamarim. The Rebbe Rashab said it in the well-known maamar “Ein Hakadosh Boruch Hu Ba B’trunya Im Beriyosav,” one of the foundational maamarim about our avodah today. It then appears in many maamarim of the Frierdiker Rebbe and the Rebbe: the familiar example that you cannot put your head into boiling water, but you can put your heels into boiling water. It is specifically the heels, which lack all the intellect and so on—the lowest part of a person—that nevertheless submit to the power of the will. They are receptive to that power. As the Rebbe says in the sicha, the foot, and the heel of the foot, do not merely lack intellect, so that a person can put his foot into hot water. It is not only something negative. Rather, the heels truly are vessels for the power of the will. The power of the will is immense, deep, unlimited. Nothing stands in the way of the will. It is one of the greatest, deepest parts of the soul. Where is it found? Where does it express itself? Specifically in the heels; that is where it is expressed most deeply. That is why one can put one’s heels into boiling water. The Rebbe says: That is where we are now. The avodah of the heel, the heels, ikvesa d’Meshicha. There are no revelations, no light, none of those wonderful things. We do not have all those important things; we do not have the understanding and the vision that there once were,

15:21 so it would seem that we are on the lowest level. Yes, but we have the power of mesirus nefesh. We have the heel, avodah in actual practice—the heels, the yud and the heel, Yaakov. We have avodah in practice. What does that mean? We do not understand, do not feel, do not see. We do not understand what is happening here. How can we still be in exile? How can there still be so much concealment and hiddenness, so much darkness all around? A person looks around at all this and says: How can it be? None of it quite makes sense—not to the intellect and not to the eyes. But precisely here there is the profound self-nullification of a Jew, coming from the yechidah, when a Jew says: It cannot be any other way. This connection, this depth—this bittul in particular is, in essence, deeper than the bittul of the time of the Beis Hamikdash. Therefore, this bittul of eikev is not an awakening from below that brings an awakening from above; it is not avodah based on measure for measure. On the contrary: “And it will be, because you heed these laws and keep and do them.” When a Jew serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu in this way, he serves Him—heeds, keeps, and acts—in a state of eikev, when he does not see, feel, or comprehend, when none of those things are there. Nevertheless, he stands firm in his emunah and in his mesirus nefesh to serve Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Then, “Hashem your G-d will keep for you”—what does Hakadosh Boruch Hu give us? He gives us without calculations. He gives us a covenant. He gives us kindness. He gives us an oath. He gives us the full outpouring from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, without any limits, without any barriers, without anything holding it back. And that is how the parsha continues. What is written afterward—the blessings there in abundance, and among the blessings there is also

17:09 Yes, “And Hashem will remove from you every illness.” The parsha goes on to say that Hashem will remove every kind of illness from us, G-d forbid, in a way that is beyond all measure and limitation. That is also an essential point in this period: we need to ask, and to know, that through our steadfastness and mesirus nefesh, we bring about the nullification of every negative situation—every illness, all the terrible afflictions of Egypt, and so on. The passage then continues with blessings concerning children and livelihood, and so on. “You will eat and be satisfied”; the blessings for the Land of Israel—it is all in the weekly parsha. These blessings do not come through a measured, measure-for-measure reckoning. On the contrary, it is because of this self-nullification, this mesirus nefesh, that all the great abundance flows from Above. And this point, when we look at the Rebbe’s teachings, is an especially fundamental and profound idea. The Rebbe sees it also in the festival we just celebrated, 15 Menachem Av. The Rebbe opened our eyes and showed us the depth of this Yom Tov, 15 Menachem Av. What exactly happens then? The Mishnah at the end of Tractate Taanis says, “There were no festivals like 15 Menachem Av.” What happened on 15 Menachem Av? It says that the daughters of Jerusalem—or the daughters of Israel; there are two versions—would go out and dance in the vineyards, wearing borrowed white garments. And what would they say? “Young man, lift up your eyes and see what you choose. Do not set your eyes on beauty; set your eyes on family.” So the Rebbe takes this Mishnah. When you learn it on the plain level, what exactly is going on there? What is the message? Why such great joy? Why is it the greatest day? The commentators offer various explanations, but Chassidus opens our eyes and shows us the

19:05 depth. This is about something much higher, much more exalted. The daughters of Jerusalem, the daughters of Israel, represent the souls of the Jewish people. In Shir Hashirim: “I am dark but beautiful, O daughters of Jerusalem.” The daughters of Israel, the daughters of Jerusalem, come before Hashem. We are in a state of exile, and we need to ask Hashem to choose us. The Rebbe says in the maamarim and sichos on 15 Menachem Av: Who is the “young man” here? It is Hashem. There is a verse in Shir Hashirim, “choice as the cedars,” an expression referring to Hashem. So we say to Hashem, “Young man, lift up your eyes.” And the Rebbe asks: What does “lift up your eyes” mean? Its meaning is tremendous. The Rebbe explains this Mishnah: we ask Hashem, so to speak, to raise His eyes. How can we say such a thing about Hashem? But that is precisely the point. There is a way of looking that is intellectual, a narrow way of looking. Just as a person’s service can take two forms: service based on reason, on understanding and perception—an orderly, limited, narrow service, confined to the bounds of intellect and reason. That is one way. But a person can also rise to a place of mesirus nefesh, to serve Hashem beyond reason. With this self-nullification of faith and kabbolas ol, this devotion beyond reason, we say to Hashem, “Lift up your eyes.” If You look at how we behave, as the Rebbe says—there, in the Gemara, there are daughters of Israel of all kinds, including those whom the Gemara calls unattractive. They have no... The Rebbe explains according to Chassidus that this means something is lacking: they do not have all the beauty of Torah and mitzvos, nor all the merit of their ancestors. They have nothing.

21:03 Seemingly, nothing remains. But I have a soul. I belong to the family. “Set your eyes on family.” I belong to the family; I am a Jew, and I have the essence of a Jew. From there comes the strength of faith, the strength of kabbolas ol, and the strength of mesirus nefesh: even though he does not understand, feel, or see, he is nevertheless devoted to Hashem. That gives a Jew the strength to say to Hashem, “Lift up your eyes”—look at us from a deeper, higher perspective—“and see what you choose. Do not set your eyes on beauty.” We ask Hashem not to look at us from the external perspective of beauty—what we look like, whether we measure up, how we behave—but to “set your eyes on family”: we are all part of the great family, and we inherited from Avraham Avinu the strength of mesirus nefesh. That is why we are strong. Indeed, now, in the footsteps of Moshiach, we are even stronger than before. And so, 15 Menachem Av is the revelation of Moshiach. That is the greatest light shining on 15 Menachem Av. And now, in these days close to 15 Menachem Av, approaching 20 Menachem Av, Parshas Eikev, we must awaken this strength within ourselves in the final moments we are spending in exile—the final moments. This is what the Rebbe is telling us. In all the Rebbe’s sichos and maamarim from this period, the Rebbe teaches us to open our eyes: “Lift up your eyes.” The Rebbe also says to the chassidim, “Lift up your eyes.” Open your eyes; rise higher. If we look at the world through a shallow, superficial, worldly lens, through the newspapers and the news, we can go crazy from all the madness happening in the world,

22:56 from all the darkness, all the turmoil. That is looking with our eyes cast downward. But “lift up your eyes,” the Rebbe says. Rise higher. “Raise your eyes on high.” Do not look at life and at what is happening around you with shallow, external, superficial eyes. Rise a little higher; look at the world through the Rebbe’s eyes, through the eyes of Chassidus, through the Rebbe’s sichos. There we see how the world is moving toward the Geulah, how all these concealments are the decay of the darkness of exile, while here the light of the Geulah is growing. That changes our entire outlook. It is like the Gemara’s account of Rabbi Akiva laughing: within the darkness, he saw the deep light of the Geulah. So I want to conclude by wishing myself and everyone here that we have this strength in the final moments of exile; that we learn what the Rebbe teaches us, that we learn from the daughters of Israel in borrowed white garments. The Rebbe says that white means just that—without colors. There are colors: red, blue, white, black. They are different kinds of external beauty. White is simplicity. White is self-nullification. White is the plainest, least dazzling place in the soul. It is that place of a Jew’s self-nullification. And “borrowed”—the Rebbe says it is like “One thing I have asked.” A Jew comes from that place and asks Hashem, giving himself over in complete self-nullification—the heel, eikev. Then, specifically, Hashem will bestow on us the covenant, the kindness, and the oath He swore to our ancestors, and give us every blessing in material matters too, in

24:54 the most literal sense, in our lives. That is the main thing: everything each person needs concerning shidduchim, livelihood, and health. And may we merit what is written at the end of the parsha: that we will take possession of all this land, as it says, from the great wilderness to Lebanon, as far as the Euphrates River, immediately, right now. In recent days, we have already begun to see the downfall of what is called “the destruction of Tyre.” The Rebbe would call it the downfall of the negative side. And so may we begin to see the rebuilding of Jerusalem as well, the building of the Third Beis Hamikdash, which will be built speedily in our days through Moshiach Tzidkeinu. May we merit to see it with our physical eyes immediately, right now.