Weekly Dvar Torah: The 12 Pesukim: A Prescription for Happy and Healthy Living – Part One

Let me begin with a confession — the kind you can only make at a Farbrengen, when the Niggun is still hanging in the air, and hearts are open.

For twelve long years, I carried these thoughts inside me. Not locked away, but simmering, tugging at me. I knew this was important — vital, actually — for the future of our education, for the spiritual and emotional strength of our children. I spoke about it when I was invited to speak, here and there, but somehow, I never put pen to paper. I never wrote it down.

And now… here we are.

We’ve entered the fiftieth year since the Rebbe instituted the 12 Pesukim — that set of holy, elemental verses that every single child was meant to learn by heart. These Pesukim became as basic to a Lubavitcher child as the Alef-Beis itself. A cornerstone of Chinuch. A heartbeat for a Jewish child.

So if not now, then when? It’s time to finally write the story.

Let me take you back twelve years, to the cold month of Teiveis, 5774.

We were approaching another date — a difficult one. Twenty years since Gimmel Tammuz.
Twenty years since we last heard the Rebbe’s voice, saw the Rebbe’s face, felt the Rebbe’s gaze.

And in the streets, in the shuls, in the kitchens, in the back rooms where people speak in half-whispers — the rumbling began.

Some people were saying things like:
• “It’s been twenty years… what do we have now?”
• “We have no Rebbe.”
• “We have no leadership.”
• “We feel lost.”
• “We have no guidance, no purpose, no value.”
• “What are we living for?”

People said they felt weak, directionless — some even said they felt that they had no reason to live.

It got dark. Very dark. Some people slipped into hopelessness, despair, and more than one Nefesh Yisroel was on the edge of giving up entirely.

And then, suddenly — out of nowhere — a strange movement began forming.

People searching for meaning, for purpose, for something to hold onto, found themselves being guided toward a certain therapy group. A mysterious, secretive weekend experience, a workshop whispered about from person to person.

It promised to build up self-worth. Self-esteem. Strength. A sense of life’s value. A reason to keep going. Many people attended. And many came back saying it was life-saving — literally life-saving.

Yet everything about it was cloaked in secrecy. No one would say what happened during those sessions. No notes. No recording. You wanted to know? “Come for the weekend.” That was the only answer.

Naturally, the secrecy led to suspicion. Rumors began swirling. Opponents claimed it was Avodah Zarah. Others said it was a cult. The arguments turned ugly — painfully ugly.

The community was splitting, fraying, fragmenting. People were shouting past each other, fear and confusion replacing clarity and support.

And then — the pressure burst.

A group of young Anash decided that enough was enough. They called for an emergency meeting. The announcement went out on the 20th of Teiveis: A community-wide gathering in Crown Heights, the very next night — the 21st of Teiveis.

Only 24 hours’ notice. But everyone knew exactly what this was about.

That night, the Oholei Torah ballroom filled to the last inch. Literally. Hundreds more stood outside, trying to listen through the doors. It was — I can say this without exaggeration — the largest Anash gathering since Gimmel Tammuz.

The atmosphere was a mix of tension and desperate hope. The community was crying out: Rebbe, please help us. Guide us. Tell us where to go from here.

Rabbonim and Mashpi’im spoke — Rabbi Heller, Rabbi Schochet, Reb Yoel, Reb Pinye, and others. And their message was unanimous, thunderously clear:

• We have a Rebbe.
• We are the Rebbe’s Chassidim.
• The Rebbe already gave us every single tool we need.
• We have the Rebbe’s teachings.
• We have the Rebbe’s directives.
• We don’t need to search elsewhere.
• We don’t need other leaders, other systems, other forms of guidance.

When that meeting ended, people walked out lighter. Uplifted. Reconnected.

New shiurim in Chassidus began across Crown Heights. Farbrengens multiplied. People opened the Rebbe’s Sichos and Maamarim with fresh fire. There was a feeling — for the first time in a long time — that maybe, maybe, we weren’t so lost after all.

The Revelation — A Sicha Lost for 38 Years

And then, about two or three weeks later… A bombshell.

The announcement came out of nowhere: A new Sicha from the Rebbe had been discovered. A Sicha that was Mugah — reviewed, edited, and prepared by the Rebbe himself — back in 5736.

But never published. Not in 5736. Not in 5737. Not in any year since.

For thirty-eight years — nearly four full decades — this Sicha sat hidden.

And now, suddenly, now, at this moment of communal confusion and desperation — it surfaced.

The excitement was explosive.

People grabbed the booklet with shaking hands. Farbrengens erupted that very night. In Yeshivos all over the world, Bochurim opened it with shining eyes.

Everyone felt it. This wasn’t just “another Sicha.” This was something else.

And when I learned the Sicha, it hit me like lightning.

“This,” I said, “is the Rebbe’s answer.”

Our cry went up, and like it says in Divrei HaYamim II 21:12 — וַיָּבֹא אֵלָיו מִכְתָּב מֵאֵלִיָּהוּ — A letter came to him from Elijah the Prophet.

Eliyahu had already left this world long before that letter arrived. Yet the letter came. Because when a leader must answer, he answers.

This was our letter. A Letter from Heaven. The Rebbe saw our confusion, our pain, our fear… and he sent the answer — exactly when it was needed.

Why wasn’t it published in 5736? Why wasn’t it printed within hours, as was always the case when the Rebbe reviewed something? Why did it wait 38 years?

I’ll tell you my conclusion — and I say it openly: The Rebbe orchestrated it.

This Sicha was held back for the moment we would need it — a moment when the community was spiraling, searching, desperate for direction. And then, exactly then, it came.

I know people ask, “But how was it lost? Where was it all these years?”

To me, this doesn’t matter. What matters is what happened. What matters is the timing. What matters is the message. And what matters most of all is the content of the Sicha itself.

A Sicha from Lag BaOmer, 5736, at the parade — the very Sicha in which the Rebbe introduced the second half of the 12 Pesukim.

To be continued….

Have a Happy Month and a Healthy Shabbos,
Gut Chodesh, Gut Shabbos

Rabbi Yosef Katzman