Weekly Dvar Torah: When Living Comes Alive

The Mitteler Rebbe once heard the Tochacha—the frightening curses in Parshas Ki Savo—and became so physically ill that weeks later there was concern whether he would be able to fast on Yom Kippur.

They asked him: You hear these same words every year. Why did they affect you so terribly this time?

He answered:

“Every year I hear them from my father. And when father reads them, they don’t sound like curses.”

What an extraordinary way to hear the world.

The words may be frightening. Life itself may sometimes be frightening. But when you know that the One behind it all is your Father, you hear things differently.

Perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts Chassidus gave the Jewish people.

This week we will celebrate Chai Elul—the 18th of Elul. Chai means “life,” and Chai Elul is the day that brings chayus—life and vitality—into Elul.

Appropriately, three major events in the history of Chassidus are connected to this day: the Baal Shem Tov was born on Chai Elul in 1698; the Alter Rebbe in 1745; and in 1897, the newly established Yeshiva Tomchei Tmimim in Lubavitch began its learning.

Three events. Three stages of one revolution.

Judaism Comes Alive

The Baal Shem Tov entered a Jewish world that had been battered and broken. Jewish communities across Eastern Europe had been devastated. Poverty was crushing, and many simple Jews felt distant from Torah scholars and perhaps even distant from G-d.

The Baal Shem Tov brought them back to life.

He taught that every Jew is precious. Every Jew possesses a Neshama, a spark of G-d that can never be extinguished. A Jew may know it or may not know it. His faith may be burning brightly or buried beneath layers of dust. But the Neshama is always there.

He taught Jews to rejoice in being Jewish. G-d was not only in the Beis Medrash with the great scholar. G-d was with the simple Jew saying Tehillim. G-d was in the marketplace. G-d was on the road. G-d was everywhere.

Judaism was not merely something you practiced.

It was something you lived.

Then came the Alter Rebbe.

The Baal Shem Tov ignited the fire. The Alter Rebbe taught us to understand it.

Chabad demands that our relationship with G-d should not remain merely instinctive or inspirational. Chochmah, Binah and Daas—the mind itself—must become involved. Think about G-d. Understand His closeness. Contemplate what a Neshama is and what it means to be forever connected to Him.

Then joy can come from somewhere deeper than whatever happened today.

Some people derive pleasure from food, others from music, others from intellectual stimulation. Someone absorbed in a profound idea can temporarily forget that he is hungry.

Chassidus tells us: Give your Neshama something even greater to become absorbed in.

Contemplate that G-d is your Father. You are never alone. He is with you wherever you are, and your bond with Him is deeper than whatever difficulty you may be experiencing.

Then even the curses begin to sound different.

Not because pain isn’t painful or problems aren’t real.

But because Father is reading them.

But Chai Elul did not stop with two birthdays.

More than a century later, the Rebbe Rashab established Tomchei Tmimim. The Yeshiva was founded on the 15th of Elul 5657, and on Chai Elul the actual learning began.

Now the revolution entered its next stage.

The Baal Shem Tov taught the Jew to live.

The Alter Rebbe taught the Jew to understand.

Tomchei Tmimim was established to produce Jews who would live what they understood—and carry it into the world.

And they would need every bit of it.

The Rebbe Rashab understood the enormous challenges that lay ahead. Tomchei Tmimim would produce young men with the knowledge, conviction and Mesiras Nefesh to confront them.

A remarkable story from Soviet Russia demonstrates what that meant.

Rav Yaakov Klemes, a respected non-Lubavitcher Rav in Moscow, was approached by a Jewish factory owner facing a terrifying dilemma. The Soviet authorities demanded that he work on Shabbos, and refusing could endanger his life. The Rav ruled that where life was genuinely at stake, he was permitted to work.

Then a student of Tomchei Tmimim came with essentially the same question.

This time Rav Klemes refused to give the same answer.

“You,” he told him, “are from the elite forces.”

The Tmimim had been trained to be those soldiers—the ones prepared to hold the position when everyone else had to retreat.

The joy of the Baal Shem Tov and the understanding of the Alter Rebbe had become courage and responsibility.

Chai Elul Is Talking to Us

That gives Chai Elul an entirely different meaning.

It does not merely commemorate people who brought life to Judaism centuries ago. It asks whether our Judaism is alive.

We are in Elul, preparing for Rosh Hashanah, making our Cheshbon Hanefesh and thinking about what needs to change.

And right in the middle of this serious month comes Chai Elul and says:

Live!

Don’t merely do another Mitzvah. Live the Mitzvah.

Don’t merely believe in G-d. Think about G-d until that belief becomes real.

Don’t merely study Chassidus. Allow Chassidus to change the way you see yourself, another Jew, your problems, your blessings and the world around you.

And then take it outside.

Moshiach told the Baal Shem Tov that he would come when his wellsprings would spread outward. Generations later, the Rebbe Rashab charged the Tmimim to become the soldiers of Beis David—to carry those wellsprings outward and prepare the world for Moshiach.

The mission that began with the Baal Shem Tov did not end with the Alter Rebbe. It did not end in Lubavitch, nor with the heroic Tmimim of Soviet Russia.

It landed on our doorstep.

The Baal Shem Tov gave us the fire.

The Alter Rebbe taught us to understand the fire.

Tomchei Tmimim produced soldiers prepared to carry that fire into the darkest places on earth.

And now it is our turn.

As we approach Rosh Hashanah and ask Hashem to inscribe us in the Book of Life, Chai Elul reminds us what kind of life we are asking for.

A life with faith. A life with understanding. A life with joy. A life with courage. And above all, a life with a mission.

Because when Judaism is truly alive inside us, we don’t merely live.

We give life to the world.

Have a lively, joyous and courageous Shabbos,
Gut Shabbos

Rabbi Yosef Katzman