Sukkos and Simchas Torah: Parshas Ha'azinu - Breaking Through the Path to the Tree of Life

Breaking Through the Path to the Tree of Life

A person's entire spiritual work during these days—which are Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Sukkos, Hoshana Rabbah, Shemini Atzeres, and Simchas Torah—is to merit reaching the "Tree of Life," which represents the service of Hashem. After Adam HaRishon (the First Man) sinned, the path to the Tree of Life was blocked. Hashem placed the "flaming, ever-turning sword" and the Cherubim to guard the way leading to the Tree of Life. Ever since then, anyone who wishes to enter the Tree of Life (the service of Hashem) faces obstacles and delays caused by the Cherubim and the "flaming, ever-turning sword."

Rashi explains: "The Cherubim" refers to angels of destruction, and the "flaming, ever-turning sword" refers to that which threatens him from re-entering the Garden. It threatens and terrifies a person from entering the Tree of Life. A person is afraid to study Torah, afraid to wake up for Chatzos (midnight prayer), to do hisbodedus (secluded personal prayer), to go out to the field, afraid to travel to the graves of tzaddikim, afraid of Arabs. What are Arabs?! Arabs do not exist at all in this context, as it is written, "Behold, the nations are like a drop from a bucket, and are accounted as dust on the scales" (Isaiah 40:15). In the face of spiritual truth, they do not exist; they are not present at all.

Reb Nosson of Breslov explains that during these days, we must open the path to the Tree of Life. During these holy days, we must overcome, break through, and reveal the path to the Tree of Life, the path to serving Hashem. As long as a person remains attached to the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he will have obstacles, fears, doubts, and confusions; he will not know how to advise his own soul. However, through emunas chachamim (faith in the Torah sages), one merits entering the Tree of Life, as Reb Nosson says:

"And perfect counsel in the service of Hashem cannot be attained except through the true tzaddikim of the generation" (Likutey Halachos, Sukkah 3).

A person must find a tzaddik who can bring him straight to the Tree of Life, who will bestow upon him the pure intellect from the Tree of Life, and bring him into the Tree of Life. Then, he will have no divided counsel, no confusion, and no fears. He will merit overcoming all the obstacles and delays that come from the Cherubim and the "flaming, ever-turning sword," and he will truly enter into the service of Hashem.

Casting Away Illusory Intellect

"A vile and unwise nation" (Devarim 32:6)

"The main foundation upon which everything depends is to bind oneself to the tzaddik of the generation, and to accept his words regarding whatever he says, whether it is a small matter or a great matter" (Likutey Moharan 123).

Everything a person goes through in his entire life depends on whether he merits believing in the tzaddik of the generation; everything rests on faith in the tzaddik. A person must nullify all of his own thoughts, all of his own desires, and nullify his very personality to the tzaddik. He must accept his words in whatever he says, even if the tzaddik tells him something that contradicts his own logic, whether it is a great matter or a small matter.

One must cast away all of his own wisdom. A person is born with intellect, and everyone has their own wisdom, but this very wisdom prevents him from drawing close to the tzaddik and returning to Hashem. He must set aside his own mind as if he has no intellect at all, because the tzaddik is the source who bestows all true intellect. As long as a person holds onto his own independent intellect, he is not considered perfectly bound to the tzaddik. The moment a person retains even a drop of his own intellect, a drop of his own independent understanding, he is not truly connected to the tzaddik.

"And Israel, at the time of receiving the Torah, possessed great wisdom" (ibid.). The Jewish people knew all the wisdom of the Egyptian sorcerers. They had learned from the sorcerers and knew how to calculate the astrological signs; they knew how to calculate everything. Therefore, the Bnei Yissaschar explains that Moshe Rabbeinu had to say "about midnight" (Exodus 11:4)—specifically about midnight, and not at midnight. This was because Pharaoh had calculated that this specific midnight fell exactly between the astrological influence of Mars (Ma'adim) and Jupiter (Tzedek). Mars represents strict judgment and severity (Gevuros), while Jupiter represents mercy. The exact moment the influence of Mars ended and the star of Jupiter began was the point of midnight according to Pharaoh's calculations.

If Moshe had said "at midnight," Pharaoh would have claimed that Moshe was performing witchcraft, drawing down forces from the astrological sign of Mars to execute the Plague of the Firstborn. Therefore, Moshe wanted to shift the time of midnight by a few seconds, by half a minute, so that the sign of Jupiter would already enter. Then everyone would know that this was the hand of Hashem and not human wisdom or witchcraft. That is why he said, "about midnight."

The same thing happened with Korach, when the Jewish people said to Moshe and Aharon, "You have killed the people of Hashem!" (Numbers 17:41). They were essentially saying, "You are telling stories that Hashem opened the earth... You made the earth open through your own wisdom! Because through worldly wisdom, it is possible to open the earth!" It was only when they saw that everyone was already dying that they understood it was the hand of Hashem. And in truth, the Jewish people at the time of receiving the Torah cast away all their worldly wisdom, and they believed in Hashem and in Moshe His servant.

This is what Targum Onkelos meant when he translated "A vile and unwise nation" as "A nation that received the Torah and did not become wise." The essence of receiving the Torah was achieved specifically through "not becoming wise" in their own eyes. A person is born with a great deal of wisdom, and every person has a lot of intellect, but this intellect is meant solely for understanding the Gemara, understanding the Rishonim (early commentators) and Acharonim (later commentators). One must apply their intellect only to the Torah. This is why the word "naval" (vile) can be rearranged to spell "lamed-beis" (32) "nesivos" (paths), which hints at the Holy Torah, the true wisdom before which all other wisdom is nullified. Building an atomic bomb and killing millions of people at once is murder; it is not wisdom. True wisdom is saving millions of people! Because in truth, through a single letter of the Torah, one can save millions of people. Through a single letter, one can heal billions. All the wisdom of the world is completely nullified against a single letter of the Holy Torah.

The Secret of the Breaking and the Broken Heart

A person goes through all kinds of difficult suffering, but he must constantly know that all of his harsh judgments and all the troubles he endures are actually connections between the lower worlds and the higher worlds. When a person knows that everything happening to him is decreed from Above, that it is planned and hinted at—even if all the hints haven't been revealed to him—he realizes the profound connection. We are holding a rope down below, and there is Someone holding the rope up Above. When we shake the rope here, it shakes up there as well. We must never let the rope slip from our hands. We must hold onto the rope tightly.

When things are difficult for us, when we are in pain, when something angers us, when we want to scream and want to speak out to pour our hearts out—we shake the rope, and it moves up Above as well. Through this, we remain constantly connected to the Above. Our reality in this world is built upon a constant cycle of breaking and fixing, breaking and fixing (Shevirah and Tikkun). Even the nations of the world believe there is something Above, but in a very abstract, non-binding way; they have a distant, encompassing awareness. But for a Jew, this awareness is deeply internal and personal.

All of our exiles, all of our suffering, and all of our realities at every single moment—everything that happens to us, both spiritually and materially, all the various hardships—our entire spiritual work is simply to merge with everything that Hashem is doing. And whatever Hashem does, He knows exactly what He is doing. He knows how to create existence out of nothingness, and how to turn existence back into nothingness. All of these things are such a Divine creation that we struggle with it every single minute; we struggle to accept it, it is hard for us, and we become broken.

But through this very breaking, where we are broken time and again and rise anew—"We have risen and been encouraged" (Psalms 20:9)—it is from this "rising and being encouraged" that our true building takes place. Our building happens specifically after many breakings; at every single moment, there is a "we have risen and been encouraged." Everyone goes through what they go through, and the more a person sees and hears things up close, the more he realizes that everyone has their own unique path. This is exactly what is best—with many rectifications, with much suffering, with many difficulties, things that are unimaginable. And all of it, absolutely all of it, is part of the Divine plan, the master plan of building our souls.

Brokenness is the greatest thing in the world. A person can build immense buildings from their own broken pieces. Brokenness means a broken heart, and when there is a broken heart, there is a possibility for Godliness to enter into it. There is nothing more whole than a broken heart. Because if the heart is not broken, then there is no one to talk to at all; it is a sealed heart. People get confused, thinking that if it is not whole, then it is problematic. But the broken Tablets are the most wonderful thing. Every single moment, our personal Tablets are broken; Hashem breaks our Tablets for us every single moment. The Torah did not find a more beautiful conclusion than the breaking of the Tablets. In essence, this very breaking saves us and brings us to the ultimate purpose.

Insights on the Song of Ha'azinu

"Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak" (Devarim 32:1)

In all the words of this song, Moshe wanted to show them how many good virtues belong to the tzaddik, for he rules through the fear of God, and his glory is also over the heavens. Even the supernal ministers whose glory is in the heavens submit to his discipline, which is why camps of angels came to escort Yaakov, and even Hagar, the maidservant of Sarai, was met by three angels, because Hashem placed all the worlds beneath his feet.

However, over human beings who dwell on earth, because they possess free will, the tzaddik does not rule. This is what he says: "Give ear and quiet the heavens," even their inhabitants first, "so that I may speak," because a tzaddik rules over those who lack free will. And even when I speak to them with a measure of harshness, which is the concept of "speaking" (dibur).

But regarding human beings who dwell on earth and possess free will, he says, "and let the earth hear," but not as a command. Nor does he say that they should hasten to listen before I speak, but only at the moment the words leave my mouth. Furthermore, they should not focus on me myself so that I may speak, as if I am the speaker. Rather, they should act for the sake of the statements themselves that emerge from my mouth, for they are from Him, may He be blessed, and in a manner of affection like a father to a son, and not with a measure of harshness.

For it is not an empty thing for you

"And Moshe finished speaking all these words to all of Israel"

Why is this stated? To teach you that not a single person among the nation was left in the middle of his studies, failing to learn from Moshe's mouth everything he was meant to learn. Rather, "And Moshe finished speaking all these words"—the entire Torah and all its allusions within the Song of Ha'azinu—"to all of Israel"—not one of them remained lacking anything from the Torah that Moshe taught him.

"And he said to them, 'Set your hearts to all the words that I testify against you today, that you shall command your children...'"

"Set your hearts"—to all the 613 mitzvot that emerge from the 613 words in this song. (There are actually 614, but one of them corresponds to the Torah itself). "That you shall command your children to observe and to do"—command them before death, just as David commanded his son Shlomo. "For it is not an empty thing for you"—Rabbi Mana said: "For it is not an empty thing"—and if it is empty, it is "from you." Why? Because you do not toil in the Torah, etc.

"For it is your life"—when you toil in it. Behold, according to the toil in Torah, so are the words renewed, revealed, fulfilled, broadened, and illuminated. This refers to the Oral Torah, which flows constantly every day from a person's heart. And when they do not innovate from their hearts and fulfill the words of Torah—woe to the creations from the insult to the Torah, for they have presented it as an empty vessel. And every single day, a Heavenly voice (Bas Kol) goes forth from Mount Horeb and calls out thus.

"For it is not an empty thing"—for the entire Torah contains allusions within the soul to lofty and exalted matters. "And if it is empty"—meaning it appears, God forbid, as mere stories—it is "from you," because through the sin of the Golden Calf that they committed, the Torah needed to clothe itself in stories.

"For it is not an empty thing for you"—this is said specifically regarding the Song, whose matters are deep and exalted, encompassing all of existence. That is to say, the Torah is not a mere coincidence within you, something external to you that you can empty yourselves of; rather, it is your very essence, and you have no existence without it.

"For it is not an empty thing," etc.—they said in the Gemara: If one was walking in filthy alleyways and was reciting the Shema and paused—about him the verse says: "And through this thing you shall prolong your days." "For it is not an empty thing for you, for it is your life"—it is impossible for you to completely empty and divest yourselves of the words of Torah, just as it is impossible for a living person to divest himself of his vitality.

Rejoicing in the Joy of the Torah

The tzaddik Rabbi Naftali of Ropshitz once said to his close followers: No one has ever defeated me in words, except for one wagon driver. And the story happened like this: During the Hakafos on the night of Simchas Torah, I observed a certain wagon driver dancing and singing with great enthusiasm, his joy knowing no bounds.

At the end of the Hakafos, I approached the man, whom I knew to be an ignoramus and an unlettered person, and I said to him jokingly: What is the meaning of this joy that has leaped upon you tonight? Is your portion in Torah study so great throughout the year that you rejoice so much in the joy of the Torah? The wagon driver looked at me with astonished eyes and called out vigorously: "And if my brother makes a 'simchah' (celebration), shouldn't I rejoice in his joy...?"

Self-Sacrifice for a Beautiful Esrog

"And you shall take for yourselves on the first day the fruit of a beautiful tree..."

Once, there was a great shortage of esrogim, and the holy Rav, Rabbi Chaim Meir Yechezkel zy"a, did not have an esrog. Consequently, the tzaddik was in great distress. Close to the holiday, the Chassidim found out that a wealthy man in Cyprus had an exceptionally beautiful esrog. The Chassidim immediately traveled to him and pleaded with him to sell them his esrog for the Rebbe, but the wealthy man absolutely refused.

Afterward, he said to them, "If the Rebbe promises me a male child, I will give him the esrog as a gift." The Chassidim promised him that they would convey this condition to the Rebbe, and that the Rebbe would certainly bless him so that he would be blessed with a male child. The wealthy man gave them the esrog, but added that if the promise for a male child was not fulfilled that very year, the Rav would not have fulfilled his obligation with the esrog.

When the Chassidim returned to the Rebbe with the esrog on the eve of the holiday, he was filled with immense joy. He did not sleep the entire night; instead, he stayed awake, eagerly awaiting the morning light so he could recite the blessing over the esrog. When dawn broke, the Rav prepared himself with great deveikus (deep spiritual devotion) to make the blessing. Just then, the Chassidim told him about the condition set by the wealthy man who owned the esrog.

Instantly, the Rebbe's joy turned to sorrow. Without a word, he set the esrog down and began pacing back and forth across his room, searching his soul for another solution. Almost the entire day passed like this. Toward evening, seeing that the sun was about to set and he would soon lose the opportunity to make the blessing over the esrog, the Rav stood up and declared, "Come what may! I have no choice but to make the promise to this wealthy man!" He promised the man a male child, and then stood and recited the blessing over the esrog. And indeed, that very year, the wealthy man was blessed with a baby boy...