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I don't know. I can't say for sure, but it could be. This is the most emotionally powerful piece that we'll learn together. It's really a special piece. Pesach says, "VaYesev Yaakov b'aretz Megureh Aviv b'aretz." We all know what's the solution of VaYesev. Thank you for opening your home plates. Pirush Rashi B'kei Shyakov LeSev B'Shalva. Yaakov Avinu just wanted a little bit of serenity Just a little bit. His life wasn't so easy, Yaakov Avinu's life. And then the Rebbeinu Shalom responds to him. Rebbeinu Shalom says, "No." Tzaddikim do not get serenity in this world. That's a very painful thing to say to somebody. There's no peace for you. What can Hakadosh Baruch Hu possibly mean that a tzaddik doesn't have the capacity to have shalva and ayla mazeh? Other rabbi, we see a tzaddik lechira has the ultimate shalva. It's so deeply connected. What does it mean? Yaakov Avinu just wanted a little bit of serenity, just a little bit of calm. He didn't want to run away from his brother. He didn't want to be chased out of the house by Lavan.
He was just trying to survive. What do you mean? He just wants to be leishay b'shalva, and the Rebbeinu Shalom says no. Says from his father. Is possible that the Rebbeinu Shalom would speak this way, Yaakov Avinu? So the Efraymer It's possible to say Meaning he's quoting here from his father-in-law Who quoted from the great tzaddik, the tzaddik of the generation of Baruchel of Mezivish? So we sing on Shabbos. Azor la shoyesim, and the Rebbeinu Shlom should be an oizr for those that are keeping Shabbos on the seventh day. B'chorish, and the refraining from plowing the fields. B'chorish of the chutzir, those who reap and sow. That's a good one. It goes in the bedroom. I took the I took the doorbell out of my house. Yeah.
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So Baruch Hu Mezuber says Azer l'ashayim b'shvi b'charish. Charish could be understood in two ways: Hakadosh Baruch Hu should be an oizer for those Jews that don't plow their fields on Shabbos. Or Hakadosh Baruch Hu should be an oizer for those who keep Shabbos by being charish. To be charitable means to be silent. So those Jews that don't speak Hakadosh Baruch Hu should. Be an oyser for them. So posuk hu kiisa al posuk v'daber daver sholei diburecha shol shabbos ki diburecha sholcho. So we know the halacha is that a person is supposed to speak on Shabbos in a different way than he speaks during the week. I had the opportunity many years ago when I was living in Machish to eat with Rivchayim Eisenstein for a meal. Rivchayim Eisenstein? Rivchayim Eisenstein is a rov in Mishkatayim now. Is there another amazing thing? So he's a very humble person.
I didn't know that he had this minig. He speaks in Lashon Hakodesh on Shabbos. So I knew going to an American for Shabbos lunch. And all of a sudden he's speaking to me in Hebrew, and I wasn't prepared for my Olpan class. Halachah, dabr, a Jew speaks differently on Shabbos than he speaks during the week. We speak about different things. We should bring that back. Jews should speak differently on Shabbos than they speak during the week. He still does that. Even in the shul, he speaks in Hebrew on Shabbos. The he gives a drash as a Hebrew. Beautiful. And Friday night, Shabbos day. Beautiful. He's a special, special, special person. And the announcer. They assume all the mishpalem there speak Hebrew. Avol eid esher leimer al oisan hatzadikim Or at least that's very good practice. Avol eid esher leimer But it's possible to say another thing.
That a Jew who is chareish on Shabbos is not chareish, meaning that he's speaking differently. But it's possible that we're speaking about those tzadikim shekolkach oelim b'Shabbos kodesh. There are some tzaddikim. It's good soundtrack. Every shul needs music. That's beautiful music. There are certain tzaddikim whose experience of Shabbos is so deep and so vast. That they cannot put into words what their experiences. There are times like that where we experience things that are so exceptionally large that it would be difficult for us to capture it in words. Some of us are so deeply moved by poetry because it's like, how did you get that into words? If you read great poetry, I'm not talking about New Age poetry, but great poetry. A person reads great poetry. They're like, "How did you manage to capture that experience in words?" " I've never been able to say those words. I've never been able to say.
And sometimes, even when a person's in therapy, and the therapist will repeat back to them, and they'll say, "So did you mean this?" I go, "Right." That was the word I was looking for. I couldn't. And words are a technology. There's when a person says certain words, and then those words resonate more deeply. There are people that are masters at the craft of speaking. They can give things language. When I read this It reminded me of when I was a bachelor. I had a very special madrich. Who was now Rabbi Shalom Sclar. Back then he was just Shalom. And Shalom Sclar was a guy who was a yeshiva flabber ball player, and he got to Queens College and he had come back to Herzl Israel and he was a madrich post college, so it was a little bit of a more mature madrich. And I had returned from Poland.
Today, I think the boys don't know if they go back to Israel after Poland. Maybe they go straight to America. There was a big thing that they were marked with back in the day. I don't know. You probably had your own Poland trips, but used to be all the yeshivas went together. It was very beautiful. All the seminaries went together. And I remember once we were all together at once. That was not the highlight of the trip, but certainly recognized that everybody was in the same place. So we came back to Eretz Yisrael, and they were mad that we should come back to Eretz Yisrael. There was a big Shabbos in Mevaser. And because we landed Friday morning, people didn't necessarily have a place to make Shabbos. So Mevaser hosted a huge Shabbos, and tons of chevre came to Mevaser for Shabbos. And so my madrich Shalom was there And he asked me how it was And I was about to say He said, "I'm so sorry, I asked, please don't respond" And I said, "What do you mean?"
He ended up. Again, he became a very chasub of talmudchachim. He learned to know hakim for many years. Oh wow! He's a very special person. He told me if you right now say the words Whatever you're going to say That's going to be it. It's going to be limited to those words. If you don't say anything, it will forever be this indescribable feeling that lives inside of you. This dimension. Something. What would I have said after being in Maidanek? What would I have said after? It's indescribable. People today use the word right. It's amazing. It's awesome. Words mean nothing. It's a poor attempt to take something from the world that totally transcends words. And to stick it into some tiny little thing that could somehow hold the experience. And so, in a certain way, the technology of words limits it. And here the Rebbe is saying that there's a tzaddik that experiences Shabbos. On such a level that we can't possibly imagine what they're going through, they could never tell us. They can't communicate it to us. It's so vast, so big that they could never limit it to words.
And we see it's a fascinating thing. There's a deacon like this today. In NCSY Kol Ol, just as an example I go once a summer to NCSY Kol Ol for Shabbos. And so Rav Shechter is usually there for Shabbos, the Shabbos that I'm there. Not every year, but mostly he's there for Shabbos. Rav Shechter macht Havdalah. And it's not a karbach havdalah. There's nobody with a guitar. It's just a regular havdalah. But he's crying. He's mamish crying because Shabbos is leaving. We can't imagine what that's like to have a Shabbos. I maybe you can. I can't imagine what that's like. Shabbos, end of Shabbos, he nekayyushuasi. I have a lot in an early Shabbos. Kids want to do things. There are people that cry from moving out of Shabbos. They couldn't. If you asked the shechter, what? Why are you crying? Shabbos is leaving. What was your Shabbos that brought you to the level of tears?
There are tzaddikim that live like this. But the Rebbe here makes a very critical distinction. He says, "Kizeh ha'chilak ben charisha" Uben almos. There's a difference between Silence and being mute. To be an elin means to be a mute. There's a difference between silence and being a mute. Charisha al pirayv ayimrim kashiyesh le'adaber harbei umikol makom eina bedaber. Charisha is I have so many words to say and nevertheless I hold myself back from saying. I have so much to say But it's not the time. It's not the place to say. This is the place for silence. That's what chareish is. To be a chareish means it's not that I am lacking for words. There are so many words I could say, but I don't want to. This is not a place for words. This is a place for silence. Kegon, im Chareish Tachareishi ba'ez hazos.
Like for example By Esther Amalca Mordechai says to her, "If you are going to be silent now, there are so many words that she has to say." So many words that she could say that chashverish. But this is a time of silence. We can find many examples like this. Shabekulam hayolahem l'daber rakacharishim. They have the capacity to speak. Silence in that case is a choice. Mashein king kasei isha Yisrael liychas v'chalila kol kachnis bar v'rotsus. At shein lo maladaber. However, there is a time in the life of a Jew lo alenu Where a person is so broken, so trampled That they have no capacity to speak anymore. La masik v'lo margish. They can't understand. They can't feel. The person has become so numb because of the exceptional pain they're in that there's no processing. There's no capacity to bring that experience into words. Af in lo moach v'lo leiv b'malah hasik u'malah hagish. They have no brain.
They have no mind. They have no heart. To be able to experience these things, the pain is so absolutely devastating that they have no capacity to process what's happened. Have no capacity to be present in themselves to allow these experiences to be real. This capital T trauma. This when the whole world is falling apart. And it's not only It's like if you ask a person as they're going through it, they're so stunned. If you ask them what they are experiencing right now, they are experiencing nothing right now. You see, after a terrible tragedy I had a talmud whose father passed away very suddenly And he had to run back to America. And I was in yeshiva, and he was in yeshiva. It was late at night. And he sent a message like, "Go get a burger; it's an emergency." I ran to where he was.
And he was on the floor. He was on the floor. I was like, "What's going on?" He's like, "And dad died." There was nothing to say. You saw nobody was home. What would you want him to say? What words would be available to him? What emotions were available? If I asked them in that moment, 'What are you experiencing?' He would say, 'What am I experiencing? Nobody's home to experience anything.' There's no person home. There's nobody in. There's nobody in my heart. There's nobody in my mind. I'm just stunned into a place of absolute silence. It was like after Merona. It was like that with the boys. There was nobody home. It was out of nowhere. It was devastating. They were there. They saw things. It took days and weeks to develop the capacity to process what was happening. And boys had to really go through it and then going back And sitting there. Many of the boys, when they went back, sat in the same place they were. They had to be there and re-experience it, and this time be able to give it language.
Because the first time around, what would you have wanted me to say? I was just pulled from the pile. What was that like for you? I don't know what it was like for me. What was like? What did we want me to say? What words could I say? There's nobody home. As Einzos Harisha. That's not Harisha. That's not the silence we're talking about. Like almost Ki Ilam Sheinu Adibar. It's a state of muteness. There's a time where we have so many words, but we choose not to put them into words. Allow the experience to be what it is. The tzaddik who's feeling Shabbos knows exactly what he's feeling. He's mindful. He's massed what's happening. He's aware. But he chooses not to put it into words because the experience is so vast. What words would I put it into that could possibly capture the experience? He's present. But here the Rebbe is speaking, and he's speaking from experience.
Historically speaking, the Rebbe had lost everything. He had lost all the people that he loved. He lost his son, his wife. Everybody that he had loved had passed away. And he was in a terrible state of pain. And he's telling them There's a state where I'm not speaking not because I choose not to speak, but who's home? Who's in this vessel to be able to get words? Avoyish. There is a time when we see it coming. I remember once a chaver of mine passed away. And I believe it was a barrel of wine. Was masped, and gave a eulogy. And I remember he said Sometimes, quoting from Chazal, death comes in through a door, and sometimes death comes in through a window. So, what does it mean? Death comes in through a door. A person gets a knock on the door. They open up. The Malchamavas is at the door.
The Malchamavas says, "I'm coming in." The person has time to prepare themselves. They have time. To become accustomed to the fact that the Malchamavos now lives in this house, and to steel themselves to brace themselves for what's coming. And sometimes the Malchamavos comes in through a window, and overnight something crazy happens. And La'Alenu, we can never see it coming; we're totally unprepared. Here we're talking about when the Malchamavos comes and knocks at the door. The Nazis yemachshemam and rounded them up. They're in the Warsaw Ghetto. He said, "We could see it coming. We know there's an Eitz Tzara that's coming our way." We know that it's going to bring us to a state of katnus. We know there's going to be a shvira. We know we're going to fall. We know we're going to be broken. I think in English they call it girding your loins.
We prepare ourselves mentally and emotionally to be mizhazen. To awaken in ourselves a certain level of courage To become accustomed to whatever Aitzara is in front of us until such time that it will pass And we can. Make it through And we know we're going to make it through. We're going to be okay. There's such a this. There's a yid can do that. He'd say, "I know it's coming." The aymer la atzma, and he says to himself, 'Hey, in ilay maniata, I know that right now I'm going to be in a state of muteness. I know what's coming.' I know I'm not going to have any words. I know it's going to shatter my world. But even in my state of muteness, there are things b'derek remes that I can do. To let people know that I'm inside and to let people know that there's a level of communication. I can grunt.
A mute person can still grunt. A mute person can still have a certain level of sign language. There are non-verbal communications. The gamanim a adaber, and in this case, I can also figure out how to communicate. In my state of muteness, I'll communicate somehow. So a person steel themselves. I know what's coming. Death knocked at the door. It's made itself comfortable sitting on the couch. I know there's going to be a nifilah. I know there's going to be a shiur. But I'll make it through. I'll learn how to communicate when I can't communicate. I had a talmud in yeshiva Probably one of the craziest meisim in my entire career. When he applied. I was shocked to see his name on the application. I said, "If this is the same kid" Said can't be that this kid could come to Eretz Yisrael. This kid is low functioning autistic.
How could it be that his parents would send him to Eretz Yisrael? It was sent to his parents. Parent, how would they send him to yeshiva? Did they plan for him to have a shadow? What would he do in a classroom? I didn't understand what the parents were thinking. I went and I checked. It was that kid. We interviewed the kid. I showed up, same kid. I interviewed the kid. And he spoke And he was coherent, and he was cogent. And I was like I remember you when you were a camper in my camp. How did we get here? You didn't speak. You had a shadow. He couldn't play baseball. He couldn't run to the bases. I think they did something with him. They faked it. It was nobody home. Through ninth grade, they managed to think he was autistic. His parents never believed the diagnosis. Selected mutism. It was even worse.
They brought him to a Chinese medicine doctor. It turned out that he had several allergies that shut his system down. He was fully aware Totally aware of what was going on, mentally a hundred percent there. But he could not function like a regular person because of his allergies. He was caught by this Chinese medicine doctor. They took him off all the dairy, the gluten, the whole nine yards And he started speaking. They got him through high school. They had all these services. And he was like a tchias hamesim. And we interviewed him And it was like he was capable of being in yeshiva. Was a crazy thing. Halfway through the year, he came to my office. He sits down and says, "I need to have a real conversation with you." I said, "Okay." He starts off the conversation by saying, "I forgive you." I didn't know I did anything wrong. I didn't need you to forgive me.
He said, "You should know how angry I was at you for years. Not just you, but all the people like you, all the people, all the principals, all the teachers, all the division heads, all the head counselors." Every one of you looked at me and just saw an autistic kid that needed a shadow. I was screaming inside of my head, "I am normal. Why can't you see it?" So I was trapped inside And I've been working very hard for years to forgive you. And I just want you to know I've arrived and I forgive you. I was devastated. But how could I have known? He had no bederach remes. He had no bederach remes in his life. He was so mute. He was so blocked. There was no indication that he ever gave to any of us that there was a person inside Except his parents must have seen it, and his parents never accepted the diagnosis. I know for a fact that people had told me his parents are nuts; they don't believe it. This kid is obviously deeply autistic.
And the emphasis that somehow his parents picked up on some of the achremas that he was giving off that I didn't catch, and maybe it was a lack of sensitivity, and maybe if it was my own child, I would have treated it differently. I didn't catch it And Baruch Hashem He's married to the children. He's a regular dude. Regular guy. It's a crazy maysa But he was ermos balumasi, meaning somehow he communicated to his parents, don't give up and go to some wild Chinese medicine doctor. This is not, by the way, a pitch for Chinese medicine. I know, everyone's going to walk out and okay, Berg said we have to acupuncture. I go to doctors, I take medicine, like a normal person. But there was an air mole. Alumasi somehow communicated to his parents, "I'm inside of you," and somehow they were relentless, where everybody else didn't see it.
But then what happens? A person does everything they can to prepare themselves for what's coming. But then what happens is so much worse than they could have possibly imagined. Some people are being trampled and crushed in ways that we couldn't possibly imagine. Here, the Rebbe quotes the pasuk from the dream of Yosef HaTzaddik: all the sheaves bowing down to the sheaf of Yosef HaTzaddik. He says, "We've reached a state." Of ma'almim alumin, which literally means the gathering of the sheaves, but as we know, ma'almim alumin is going to be a reference to a level of ilim, a level of muteness. He says, "Sada neidahi habechinas shakol avaydis yisrael magiilo etakne bechinas kareach sada shabaro Hashem shapirish rashi chaker tapuchim." Without getting into all the Kabbalah of these things. But the world is called the sade, the world is called the field. And all of the avoda of Klal Yisrael is to fix the field.
And this is what Yitzchak said to Yaakov That you smell like the reah chasade, you have a smell of the field. It's referring to not just the physical field; it's referring to the supernal field of what we're doing in this world. Field that Rashi calls the apple orchard, delicious smelling. Apple orchard of life that the tzaddikim who are here in this world doing certain things again we don't have to get into the whole idea here of what it means to bring the eser spheros down to the we don't need to get into the kabbalah but the rebbe is referencing this idea mechatz dechekla there are those tzaddikim that their job is to harvest to be harvesters that's the job of the tzaddik to harvest the field. Ma'almim alumin b'taych asada. These tzaddikim are gathering the sheaves in the field. B'tayra va'avaida. The tefila of the tzaddik, the tayra of the tzaddik, is having certain supernatural, supernal impact on the field of life. It's bringing our world to its state of rectification.
But there's a reason that the Rebbe here is speaking about the tzaddik. We'll see that the Rebbe is really speaking about himself. This, this that Yosef the Tzaddik was talking about, the state of Maalim Malumen, the Tzaddikim that are gathering the sheaves When they get to that stage, that the that the tzaras of Klal Yisrael are Maosif to the point that they're so nishbar, they're so broken, they're so trampled, that there is a state where they push it have no words. Not a regular state of almost, not a regular state of muteness where you can somehow b'derech remez let a person know that I'm feeling or saying something. This is a state of absolute muteness that there's not even a level b'derech remez for me to communicate. The Rebbe is sharing with the Chasidim. He's sharing the level that I got to Was that my ilmus, my muteness, so strong, like in Yosef HaTzaddik, that the sheiv stood up, v'gam nitzova And it was stiff, it was erect, meaning there was no motion, there was no capacity for me to communicate anything. The Rebbe is saying, what do you think it was like to see all the people that I love taken away from me?
It wasn't a state of ilmus that I could let you know that there's somebody home. There was nobody home. Nobody home. That there's not even a little bit for me to be able to say. I have nothing to say. The pain was so absolute that it was total trauma, total shock, no language. And listen what he says: the pain in these words is almost impossible to say, even to read it. It's almost impossible. I was prepared. I was ready to live my entire life this way, that I would never speak again. I was ready to be in a state where the trauma, the devastation, the feeling of nifila, of being trampled, of being nishbar, of being broken, of being decimated, was so absolute that there was no way for me to come back. There was no way for me to get to a level of even being an elame that could make a gesture to let you know that I'm home. My life was over, finished.
Walking dead man. That's the Rebbe saying. I was prepared. L'chayes chaye ilmos. I'm finished. Avak shema amim alumim. But what happens when a person is in a state where the muteness is so absolute that there's no capacity to speak whatsoever? As lo yacholti kvar lispol esai ilmos. It's not possible to maintain such a state. What happens? A person hits such a state of rock bottom that they can't even tolerate this state of such a deep depression. That in that place, Gufa, when there's nothing left It's impossible to stay in such a place. He's saying, "I was ready to stay there. I was ready for the rest of my life." Like there are some Sadikim that they don't speak. He's saying, "I was ready in my life to be in that place where I'll never say another word. Finished. I'm not going to speak anymore." But you can't tolerate being in such a place when you hit rock bottom. There's nothing left. You can't stay like that.
So what happened? Bin eschazik And I was mechazik myself. Let's say from that place that I had no capacity to cry out to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, Gufa from that place. At the moment that there's nothing left, all of a sudden there's something. There's the appearance of something. It's a wild idea that in the state of death itself, there's a tchias amesin that there has to be because who could be cyber living life that way where there's nobody home? People can do it by the way for years. You see people that live with that trauma and they're not able to come out of it. The Rebbe said, "I was in such a place, but from that place, because it was so impossible to be soivl, I cried out to Hashem." And look what happens. What happens? All the sheaves of all of the brothers now bow down to the sheaf of Yosef HaTzaddik.
Which means that this sheaf that was so broken, this sheaf of the tzadik, that loses everything that Hakadosh Baruch Hu tramples them. And there's nothing left in their life, and they've mamash been mechazik themselves to the degree that they say, 'I'm living my life this way.' But now they're mechazik themselves to cry out to Hashem from that place where they had no language, and then language appears. So now all of your illness, all of your muteness, all of the pain that you are suffering You're bowing down to my suffering. Meaning, I'm bringing you up. He said, 'My crying out to Hashem, the tzaddik crying out to Hashem, enables all of us to cry.' It brings your muteness into the world now of language. He said because I had to reach such a low stage and I was mamish with you, I lost everything. I reached such a low stage and I discovered that I have the capacity to cry out from there. You're coming with me on this. All of you are with me on this.
Shagam atem, diskas them al yodi. Now you too. Imagine the Rebbe saying these words to them. He's saying I went through Gehenna. I found the place of chizik in the place where there's no chizik And you're coming with me. This is what I did, Rebbe. Which tzaddik do we ever have in the history of the world that ever spoke this way about himself? We never had anyone that was able to tell us this. First of all, it could be we never had tzaddikim that went through this, and even if we did, who was able to give language to it? He's saying, I went through this and I found a way out, and you're coming with me. All of you, all of your sheevs that are bowing down to me, all of your elmas, it's coming along. Vezet tzaddikim mevakshem leishav b'shalva ba'elam azeh. This was the request of Yaakov Avinu. He wasn't requesting serenity. He wasn't requesting to retire. That's not serenity for a tzaddik. Serenity for a tzaddik doesn't mean like a chaver of mine is Baruch Hashem very matsliach. I was with him last Monday Shabbos. I said, 'Know what he's up to these days?' He said, 'I'm doing a lot of yoga. So I'm doing about two hours of yoga a day.' I was like, 'Two hours of yoga a day? You must be like the most calm person ever.'
Where do you get two hours from? We have two hours. So he's retired. Retired. I go to work once a week now. I'm on the board. He's forty two. So I can't lie to you. I was a little jealous. I was like wow, that's incredible. A little life like that. Forty two years old. You're retired. So I'm trying to figure out what's next and trying to figure out what to do with my life. It's not what we're talking about. That's a level of shalva that's not interesting to a tzaddik. Why would a tzaddik want to sit and do nothing? Why would a tzaddik want to retire? Whatever they're doing in the sada of this world, all the tayra and tefillah they're doing is clearly doing something. So what did Yaakov Vino mean? It means mevakshem leishiv b'shalva ba'elam azet lahat im etzatsem lahagolus v'tzaras. To be leishiv b'shalva means to accustom yourself to a life of pain and to a life of exile.
That's like the state that all of us are in. We've become accustomed to exile. It's okay. It's okay for the guy of the world to treat us like this. It's okay for comedians to get up on Saturday Night Live. And to for five straight minutes to roast Yidden. Of course, if anybody did that to his community, if there was a five minute roast of a Yid that got up and said, 'Here's what I think of your community,' and that person would be canceled in a second. But there's comedy. What's the problem? It's towards Yidden. And anyway, you run Hollywood, so if you cancel me, it's Hagufa. If you cancel me, it'll be a raya that really you do run Hollywood, and really all the anti-Semitic tropes are true. And you should know from this anti-Semitism that's come. We know this. We know the game. First Kanye did it.
Then Kyrie did it, now Chappell does it. You'll see. Yiddin will suffer from this. People will be hurt, physically hurt. People will be really hurt from this. But we're so accustomed to it that you see in the world people are like "Hey, come on, man. Like, joke about it. It's to joke about your own community. They're not jokes." They're not jokes. I feel like I don't see people doing this much. You'll see, you'll see right after Kyrie. I don't even know that. So I'll share with you. He's a basketball player. He's a basketball player. First Kanye got off. I know that. And he did. You know Kanye. First Kanye got off. Because he's, playing before. I'm, I'm also not supposed to know these things. They put a big sign up on the four o five. Kanye was right, and all the anti-Semitism. And then Kyrie Irving, as a basketball player, also did the same thing. If you looked on Twitter, you looked on Instagram, and you looked on TikTok, and you just had these like thousands of comments. You saw these videos scrolling through deeply, deeply anti-Semitic things. And now Nachumol, after Matzah Shabbos, when he said that thing, Nachumol, all the lists are going. You see all the anti-Semitism. It's not words. Don't fall for it. There was a 400% rise in anti-Semitism last year.
Physical acts of violence will hurt people. A Galus year doesn't stand proud. A Galus year doesn't say no. You're not allowed to treat us that way. A Galus year says it's just a joke. People will die from jokes. People will be hurt from jokes. You'll see. We're not allowed to do this, and we don't speak that way about them. Why would we speak that way about them? After all, we're here to be mashpi on the world. But we've become accustomed to exile. Become accustomed to a certain God's mentality. Jewish pride—it's funny. In the podcast, I said Jewish pride. They're like, 'We don't need Jewish pride.' Of course, you need Jewish pride. You don't even realize how your Jewish pride has suffered. This is what the tzaddik says. The tzaddik says, 'Al Kol Dosh Baruch Hu.' I know the world is going to be chaos. I know that there is going to be pain and suffering. I want to work through this. I just want to accustom myself to it. I just want to be used to it, like everybody else.
But that's not the role of a tzaddik. Amar Al Kol Dosh Baruch Hu. Lo dayan lahatzadikim, mashe mesuka lahem laasid lavo. The job of a tzaddik He's speaking to himself, but he's speaking in front of everybody. He said, "I know it's going to be good, loss of level" But a tzaddik can't be sivul this world and say, 'one day it'll be good.' A tzaddik needs to say, 'I'm going to make it good right now.' And oilemaze Meaning I'm willing to go through Gehenna, I'm willing to hit that rock bottom, I'm willing to get to the level of ilmus. That I have nothing left to say. And from that place will come that cry, and from that cry there'll be a tremendous token in the world. From that cry awakens Hakadosh Baruch Hu's Rachamim and brings La'asid Lavo. It brings Mashiach into this world. That's why Klal Yisrael doesn't leave Eretz Yisrael until we cried out. We cried out from a place where we had no words to say anymore. What were we supposed to say? There were no words. We were. It was total devastation for 210 years, and finally Klal Yisrael cries out, and then the Yeshua comes. That's the job of the tzaddik.
The job of the tzaddik is that you can't say, "I'll be okay with it now because one day it'll be good." It's not okay now. It's not okay now. We have to be able to say it's not okay now. And from a place of not okay, we cry out to Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and that brings the rectification.
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