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V'asheini shomayim ve'esham nale v'iniravei v'inishakavet v'inepanechol v'esham nale v'iniravei. Evaneko. One more time, Guru. Sit here. Rukta, Mosheini, Achalachana Rukta, dira.
It's hard to see sometimes when you go. For me, it's hard to hear sometimes, but I know that you love me so. But I know that you love me so. But I know that you love me so. Miachar lechana rusa, mashbein miachar lechana rusa. Mila ya Mila ya, mila ya, ya. Mila ya, mila ya. Ganmaid Yachtf. Before Tkiyah Shayfer The Balshem Tov gave a drasha.
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Drasha was brought down by the Toldos Yaakov Yosef. Yakov Yosef of Polanoya was, of course, one of the great Hasidim of the Balshemtov. The marshal goes as follows: The king sent out an invitation to everybody in the kingdom. Come closer. That's the whole tiramisu. The king sent out an invitation to all the citizens to come to the king. The citizens showed up to the palace. The palace was surrounded by many walls. Some of the citizens gave up right away. Others They climbed the walls and found their way around the barrier. When they got there, they found enormous treasure. Many took that treasure and went home. Assuming that's what the king invited them for to get that treasure Still others understood that there were more walls to climb, so they climbed those walls. And they also found even greater treasures. Many of them understood that it was for these treasures that the king had sent them to come. They took those treasures and went home.
Others understood there were more walls to climb. But as time went on. The barriers became larger, the treasures became more incredible. And very few people were left at the end. And the lesson of the Talmud's Yakov Yosef is that there were a couple of baleidas. There were a couple of I don't know what do we call baleidas—knowledgeable people, deep thinkers, real people, whatever you want to call them—they understood that the invitation of the king was not to climb the walls, nor was it to receive the treasure. But it was to meet the king himself. And so a couple of baleidas refused to quit and they kept climbing every wall that was in front of them until they entered into the inner sanctum of the king. And when they got to the inner sanctum of the king The Balshemitov says they turned around. And all the walls were gone All the barriers that had stood in their way disappeared.
That was the mashal that the balshemitov shared. Before tkiyah shayver on Rosh Hashanah. Shaila is what does it mean? There's something that I've been In my own avodah shem, struggling with for as long as I can remember. Until very recently, I didn't have the language to articulate it, and I'm still not sure that I have the language tonight to articulate it. But I'm further along in the articulation process than I was before, and I want to share with you what I'm struggling with in a very real, honest and vulnerable way to talk about the challenge of what it means to be an Eved Hashem today. There's a sense that I have, I know it's true about myself. There's a sense that I have for so many of us. I'm sure it's true for at least some people in this room. At least I hope I'm not the only one that's going through this.
There's a sense that I could be the best Jew. That I could daven every minyan That I could know every sefer, that I could make suhum on all of shas That I could be passionate about my yiddishkeit And still something fundamental would be missing. I don't think I'm the only one that feels this way. I think there are people who daven thoughtfully. They're not just murmuring the words of the sitter. They've actually spent the time to learn what the sitter is trying to communicate. It could be that more often than not, they're even excited to daven. And still something is missing. There are yidden who are plowing through Shas and are excited by it. I live on a block with Rav Elie Stepansky. He's the largest maggid shir in the world today. Supposedly there are sixty five thousand people a day that are listening to his daf Which is just like an astronomical amount of people.
Rav Kiva had twenty-four thousand talmidim, and we don't know how that was possible. Sixty five thousand talmidim is an unbelievable thing. This morning they all came to the sukkah. Last night they were all at the sukkah, the Hebrew shear, the English shear. People are being mesayim shas in droves like never before And still something is missing. And it's what was predicted. Loira of lechem v'loitzam alamayim kiim l'shmayas devrei Hashem. And the Talmi there, Rambamchal explained loira of lechem. Lechem is a marshal for taira. Ma'ayim is a marshal for taira. The Talmidei Rambam say in the times of Mashiach, there's going to be unbelievable amounts of taira being learned. And we won't be hungry for it. La'rov la lechem, there'll be plenty of taira. La'itzam la ma'ayim, the thirst for taira will be quenched. But something will still be missing. Ki im l'shma'ya es devrei Hashem.
But what does that mean? What does that mean? What are we missing? Why is it so frustrating? There's something existential for many of us that we're missing, and we know it. We know it and we always look. You get older, and you realize that older people are defended against the reality. To acknowledge, to become cognizant in your 40s, in your 50s, in your 60s, that something is missing is almost to acknowledge that your life was a lie. But fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen-year-old kids—they're so honest. That's why every revolution always comes from the children. It's because they haven't built up all the defense mechanisms, and they're very real. Our kids are communicating to us in very real ways. Something is missing. And if we're being even more real, if we're being even more honest How many coping mechanisms do every one of us have? Because of whatever it is that's missing in our lives, we're all searching for something. There's something that's missing, and in all the different ways that this generation defends themselves, and I say that by the way with zero, and I mean this sincerely. I say that with zero judgment.
and actually with genuine compassion Because I also know myself. I also know my coping mechanisms. I also know that I'm searching for something that I haven't found. I barely have the language to articulate it, and I also know that I'm coping. I was walking with a dear friend of mine in the old city for the last hour, just walking around. I'm walking by. We're walking by like two kids. They were in a restaurant. They went out to eat with each other. Neither of them were talking to each other. They were on their phones. I say that with no judgment. There's a reason we've become addicted to technology. It's easy. It's easy, and frankly, a little pathetic. To pick the low hanging fruit and to blame technology. Technology is the symptom, not the cause. Technology is the symptom of a generation that's searching for something and not finding. And I'd rather lose myself in doom scrolling on TikTok than actually acknowledge the very real pain of what's missing in my life.
And I don't, I mean that with no judgment because I also do the same thing. Every one of us has our version of that. And by the way. A person could also use Yiddishkeit to try to fill this hole. A person could try to be frum to try to fill this hole. It's possible also. It's possible that someone, in their quest for this deeply authentic thing that's missing, could try to be a good Jew to fulfill that need. It's so painfully frustrating because it's like I'm taking the right medicine, but somehow I'm taking it in a way that it's not reaching my bloodstream. To use Yiddishkeit in a way that it's not designed to be used, it could also become a samamavas for a person. Chazal are very clear about that. Yiddishkeit could be and ought to be a samachaim. But that it could be a samamavas for sure is true.
What is it that we're missing? And why is it that so many of us are stopping for these treasures? I want to share with you the treasures. Before I explain what it means, I think to enter into the inter sanctum of the king. There's such a thing called a spiritual life. A spiritual life comes with unbelievable treasures. And people talk about this all the time, not even realizing that this is what they're talking about. A person l'mashal goes through something very hard And they lean on their faith. They lean on their faith. That's a treasure. It doesn't mean you're necessarily in a relationship with Hashem But a person of faith might have less anxiety. A person of faith might have found a way to deal with their anger or jealousy. There are spiritual treasures that are presented to us when we're trying to climb the walls of life. Because when you get older, you'll realize that life really is a series of walls. That a person inevitably must climb.
Because if you don't climb them, you find yourselves on the outside of the palace. And I want to tell you that those who find themselves on the outside of the palace, with no access even to the treasures, that is the single most miserable life that a person can lead. Many of us make the mistake of thinking that Yiddishkeit is just spirituality. It's another way of reaching for faith in an effort to assuage my anxiety. It's another coping mechanism. It's another way of dealing with my anger or my jealousy or my lust or whatever it is that I'm dealing with, or my greed, whatever it is that I'm dealing with in my life. And the Balshemtos says that all of that is missing the point. We are not here. To be spiritually rectified, people, though that is no doubt a benefit towards leading a God-centric life But one should not make the mistake of thinking that means I'm actually in a relationship with Hashem.
Those are very big words, and those are words that very often go unpacked. What does that mean, a relationship with Hashem? What do those words actually mean? So I'll tell you the truth. This is where I'm going to fall short this year. Shmuz, whatever you want to call it. Because if I had this one line that I'm looking for Then I would have already arrived at the end of this journey. I want to be very honest. I'm very far from the end of this journey. I sometimes think that I'm still in the beginning of it, and maybe that's okay. I don't know what it looks like to be in a relationship with Hashem. I'm still figuring that out. But I want to speak about one aspect tonight that I think is critical for us to start talking about as a nation. Because if we don't start having this conversation We're going to find ourselves very behind the eight ball.
So the way that I'm going to refer to it tonight is an embodied relationship with Hashem. That's the key word. The key word here tonight is embodied. I want to talk about what the word embodied means. Every one of us is an neshama descended into a gof. That's what we are. Fundamentally, we are an neshama that's descended into a gof. The Medrash in Parshas Naso says, "Why are we here? We're here to build a Diri B'Tachtayim for Hashem. We're here to make this world into a dwelling place for the Rebbe Neshamah." The soul's descent down into this world is deeply uncomfortable. The single most uncomfortable thing in the world. Chazal say that we're born against our will. The Neshama has no fundamental desire to be here. The Neshama had it all in Shamayim. Why would I want to leave? But here's the secret. Until the neshama becomes comfortable being embodied You're always going to feel this sense of being out of place.
This sense that I'm talking about—that something is missing. What that missing thing is, I have not yet settled into the reality that I'm in a body. That's what all of us are struggling with. We don't realize that's what's going on. What's going on underneath the surface is that all of us are here and deeply uncomfortable with being here. Being here is not organic to the soul, and the soul is in pain from being here. The soul has to become comfortable with being here because that's the mission for which it was created. To recognize that there is more opportunity for Kirvas Elokim L'Tov. To come close to the Rebbeinu Shalom down here in this world than there is in the Ayalamas Alayinim. Why that is a sheer—that's a totally different sheer, and it's an important sheer, and it needs to be discussed. But for tonight, it's not the topic for tonight. The topic for tonight is to say one very simple thing: we have to get comfortable being here.
We have to get comfortable. Every single coping mechanism we have is a function of the fact that we have not yet settled into this reality. All the anxiety and all the anger and all the lust and all the greed and all the pursuit of materialism that we see that's so prevalent in our community today, all of this is to answer one very simple question. I'm uncomfortable being here. I don't know how to be here. It's if I only amass enough stuff, well, then will I be comfortable being here? It's never going to work. And we know that Chazal are clear about that. You get a hundred, you want two hundred. You have two hundred, you want four hundred. The quest for having enough will never result in feeling enough. There is only one solution to the feeling that you finally have enough, and that's to arrive at a place of belonging.
That's why the single most important thing to every single person in this room, including myself, is to belong. Every one of us is searching for a sense of belonging. Every one of us wants to belong to somebody else. Every one of us wants to be known. We all want to be in relationships where we feel we could be honest, vulnerable, authentic and true. Every one of us is looking for a place where somebody's going to see us with beautiful eyes and just tell us you're good here, and you don't have to be perfect to be here. You could just be you to be here. Every one of us is looking for that. Every one of us has had moments in our lives where we've tested the water. We walked into a rebbe's office. We shared with a friend. We tried to open up to a parent. Why? Why were we doing that? It's because I have this crisis that I don't belong, and I'm begging you to give me a sense of belonging. That's what we want from our parents, and that's what every one of us deserves from our parents. That's the job of a parent. The job of a parent is to create healthy attachment to a child.
I assume that you all know the word attachment because Yaakov Denishavsky brought it to Kalla Yisrael. But it's every one of us that needs to know that what it means to be in this world is to have a deep sense of belonging. But at some point we're going to have to do the hard work of belonging to ourselves. At some point we're going to have to belong to ourselves and say, the Rebbeinu Sholom sent me down here into this body, and all of All of the bodiness, all of the heaviness, all of the weight of the body, all of the desire of the body, it's not a bug, it's a feature. And it's and the Rebbeinu Sholom wanted me to be human. The Rebbeinu Sholom did not want me to be a disembodied soul. It's not interesting to the Rebbeinu Sholom. It's not the mission. A soul comes down to be here in this world with all of the imperfection and all of the vulnerability and all of the mistakes. And every one of us is making the same mistakes. And every one of us is hiding from each other, thinking we're the only ones that are making that mistake, which is the single most absurd thing in the world. Every one of us is on a journey together, pretending that we have it figured out, knowing that every other guy in the room also doesn't have it figured out.
And by the way, the guy who looks like he hasn't figured out the most has it figured out the least. Just because you met a guy who's absolutely obedient, and he has unbelievable willpower, and he's able to show up and be the most performative Jew in the world. I promise you, he also doesn't have it figured out. And that guy's also struggling. He's also struggling to be embodied in this world because he's human. He's human, so you don't see what's happening behind closed doors. And you should know that. I'm not trying to be mezuzel in this person, Adarabba. I'm trying to give that person permission to also be what the Rebbeinu Sholom wants us to be, which is just settled, just comfortable. Get comfortable being down here. Get comfortable with the uncomfortable reality. That this where we're meant to be. We're meant to be. And the secret, I'm pretty confident of this.
I'm pretty confident of this. We can't have a relationship until we're capable of being here. We can't really understand what Rebbeinu Shlom wants from us and what it looks like to be present in this world until we settle in. My besari echse elokah from my flesh, from my human experience, from the notion that a soul is meant to be in a body from here, from right here in my hands, in my feet, in my heart. That's where I'm going to grab onto the relationship with the Rebbeinu Sholom. It's not going to be some spiritual experience of being transcendent of coming to some mountaintop in the Himalayas, and it's not going to be. All of these things are important tools. Breath work is a beautiful thing to do, and therapy is a beautiful thing to do, and meditation is a beautiful thing to do, and yoga is a beautiful thing to do. Assuming that you're not doing some.
Avodh Zara type of yoga. This is like a regular stretch with breathing. All of those are tools, but they're trying to get a person to arrive at a very basic conclusion: it's okay to be human. It's really, chaver, it's okay to be human. I don't know how to say that in a clearer way. It's what I'm longing for in my own personal life, and I've been in this journey for so long. I've been pushing myself so hard in this journey, and it's only recently coming to my head that it's not what the Rebbeinu Sholom wants for me. It's just not. Rebbeinu Sholom is not interested in Mordechai Berg being a perfect Jew. If that's what he wanted from me, he wouldn't have made me this way. And if you are not a perfect Jew So then come along for the ride. We're gonna start a new movement in Klal Yisrael under constructionist Jews.
Like the Van Wyck Perennially under construction. Rabbi Tiger, how long has the Van Wyck been under construction? For as long as we can remember. At least 40 years, no? I remember as a kid in Simcha Day Camp going to Shea Stadium in All of Shalom Going on a river bus breaking down on the Van Wyck, and it was under construction then. And I'm convinced it was the same Italian guy on the side of the road. When I go back and drive, I know you. A little relief. A little relief. A little settling in. The gift that you give yourself. And I want to be clear because I know that people right now in their head are thinking this, and for sure this is going to be the angry email that I get. So I'm warning the angry email, and if you're going to send it to me, please don't.
I have enough criticism in my life. Aren't you giving people permission? What's the end of that sentence? What's the end of the email that I'm going to get? Giving permission what? Giving you permission to be human. Every one of us is. This is what allows us to actually breathe to engage in the relationship. Imagine a person. Let's unpack this for a second. Imagine you have a husband And he's terrified of his wife. And he has to be a perfect husband because he's terrified. Is that a perfect husband? He's the best performer in the world. On the outside, he's the best performer in the world. He doesn't miss a day of taking out the garbage, and he's always making lunches for the kids. And he comes home after minyan, and he davens privasikin so that he can make sure to be home so that everything is.
He's not in a relationship with his wife. He's just not. What did Carl Rogers say? The curious paradox is that until I accept myself as I am, I can't start to grow. This is not permission to not be an Eved Hashem. This is permission to be an Eved Hashem. This permission to recognize that the Rebbeinu Sholom sent you down here into this body. Get comfortable. This is what the Rebbeinu Sholom wants from you. So you can breathe a little bit easier and you can actually daven. You don't have to be the performative davening anymore. You could actually daven. And I don't know what that will look like for you. I hope that you will find inspiration in the sitter. But I imagine that for many of you, as you take this journey of actually getting comfortable in your own skin, you might find a lot of ways to daven.
As Chazal say, "Halavai sheis pala kol yom kula." What does that mean? He was saying Baruch for five hours a day. He was saying Ata for five hours a day. It means his entire world became davening. Which meant that davening was always more expansive than the seder, and that doesn't take away the chasivas of the seder. Adir Abba, it gives us an opportunity to spend real, meaningful time engaging in the seder in a new way. And I hope that it'll mean that the Torah that you learn will be a different type of Torah. The gift that my Rebbe gave me is my Rebbe. The gift that my rebbe gave me is he said Mordechai, what do you have to contribute to the conversation? That it wasn't just this I want you to memorize my she'er, but that he challenged us to think for ourselves. What's your contribution? What do you think about the lundas? It was a war zone in she'er, and it was amazing.
It was amazing because you couldn't get away with anything, because my rebbe was training us to think, but he didn't train us to think like him. He trained us to think like ourselves. My Rabbi used to say to us all the time, you can leave She'er when you ask 100% of the same questions and 50% of the same answers. And he'd always say, why 50% of the same answers? Because you have to have your creativity. He said, I just want to guide you on the path of what it looks like to think well, but then go think well for yourselves. Now you have a voice to contribute. And you're not stuck in the like. I need to be able to repeat my rebbe's she'er perfectly. It's I need to be able to take what my rebbe taught me and discover the Torah that I have within myself. Which is, by the way, what all the gedolim did. I have no idea when it happened that we just became parrots for what the achrayim say. Where do you think the achrayim got their ideas from? The Achreinim themselves—they were brilliant and they were well-versed, and it wasn't just bychzvaros, and they weren't just saying things because it happened to pop into their head. They worked very hard on their shiurim, but their shiurim came from their own pneuma and nefesh, and that's why they were different from each other.
And that's what made it beautiful. And it won't just be in the way that we think, and it won't just be in the way that we feel; it'll be even in the way that we act, even in the way that we serve the Rebbeinu Shlomoh. It'll look different. People always say, 'I'm putting on the same tefillin as everybody else.' Why? Why are you putting on the same tefillin as everybody else? It's because you're not putting on tefillin in your way. So a child will say, 'But what does that mean? Aren't we all just wrapping the straps the same way?' I don't know. What does tefillin mean to you? We're all going to wrap the straps the same way, but tefillin is going to mean something. I hope it's going to be different than to every one of us. And there's for sure people in this room that have something amazing to share with the world. But they're not doing it because they're not comfortable in their own skin to be able to say it. We forgot the simplicity of being a neshama in a body.
And that's what Hishanaraba is. Hishanaraba is a return to a yid that has no tam the velo reyach. He has no tayr and he has no mitzvos. What does that mean? We're celebrating the amaretz. We're celebrating the guy that doesn't do any mitzvos. Is that possible? It's not what it means. Loi tam velo reyach means that there is such a thing, and it's beautiful. I don't want to take away from it on any level. A yid that has tayr and mitzvos is amazing. And a yid that has Torah without mitzvahs, and a yid that has mitzvahs without Torah, it doesn't mean Chasam Sholom that they are lacking either one of those things. It means some people find their place in the world of mitzvahs, and some people find their place in the world of Torah, and some people find their place in the world of both. And some people, and it doesn't mean that they don't have a chelik in Torah or a chelik in mitzvahs, and it doesn't mean that they don't learn it, don't mean they don't daven. Chazal are pretty mafurish, even the empty ones, even those yids that appear to be so distant from the Rebbeinu Sholom are male but mitzvahs krimon. They're like full of mitzvahs, like the seeds in a pomegranate.
It means there are some yidden that are just so real that their relationship with Hashem is beyond the performative. It's beyond tayrit. It's beyond mitzvos. It's just a simple soul reaching out to its Maker from amongst its humanity and saying, 'Rabbi Shlomo, I'm here.' And there is nothing more beautiful than that. We take the Arabus and we bring them down into the world and we hit them on the floor. What type of avodah is that? It's the avodah of a yid. Who's just saying I'm trying to bring it down. I'm just trying to come down. I'm trying to finally be here. I'm trying to be present in this world for more than two minutes at a time. I was talking to a friend of mine today. He's struggling with anxiety in a very serious way, and he's self-medicating with whatever recreational drugs are out there.
My heart's breaking for him. He's in a tremendous amount of pain in his life. I love him very much. He's searching for some relief. That's all he's doing. He's searching for some relief. I wish I could tell him And I didn't do a good enough job telling him this today. And if he's listening to this, then I hope that he'll take that as something. I wish I could tell him how beautiful he is. That's really what I want to say to him. And that's really what I want to say to myself, and it's really what I want to say to all of us. We're just beautiful people, just trying to make it here in this world a little bit longer. And it's hard, and it's allowed to be hard. It's hard to come down. It's hard to come down. It's hard to be here. There's a level of Simchas Torah that comes That comes after Hashanah Rabbah. There's a level of what in Chassidus is the Friedecker Rebbe called it, becoming the legs of the Torah.
We're dancing with the Torah and Simchas Torah not because there's some Simchas Torah became Purim, if we're being honest. Like if you don't get like if you don't get drunk off your mind I have no idea when Simchas Torah became Purim. Frankly, I have no idea when Purim became Purim. The Purim that I had from that I saw from my rabbis growing up was not the Purim. Purim today resembles St. Patrick's Day. Has nothing to do with Purim. Simchas Torah of today has nothing to do with Purim. There's a bechiner that when a yid gets comfortable in this world, his relationship with Torah is not intellectual anymore. He's dancing with the Torah, and the Torah is wrapped up. The Torah is wrapped up. He's not learning it. It doesn't mean that there's not a place for learning Torah. Learning Torah is the most amazing thing in the world, but it starts with dancing with Torah, not with learning Torah.
Sometimes I want to go over there. There, they're even for whatever reason. Some chassar is not their yantiv. I don't know whatever it is that they say. So they're like, no, on some chassar I learn that that's the avoid of shvuas. We take a pasul sefer Torah and we dance with it. And we don't and we're not learning from it. We're dancing with it. It's me. It's who I am. I'm the legs of the sefer Torah. There's not two things. There's not me and Torah. There's one thing. And I'm walking with it. That's what I'm here to do in the world. I'm here to bring this into the world. So there is a baleshemtov lining the path for us. He was saying it starts with Rosh Hashanah. The king is inviting you in. And then there is a process of tshuva Where you take away all of the clutter, all of the things that are stopping you, all of the guilt, all of the shame, all of the averas, all the because we know, because we're not fake, because the least fake person we are with us ourselves. I'm going to be willing to talk about anything to myself.
And I'm going to sit there and go, I'm a faker, and I'm this, and I'm that, and I come to Yom Kippur, and I. There's a feeling that I have after Yom Kippur, as if a person does it well. There's a feeling that a yid has, and when I say feeling, I don't mean an emotion. I mean like a deep intuition that I'm innocent. And that I'm okay. There's a young man. He's one of my heroes. He's a rabbi of mine. I can't say his name. I wish I could. I wish I could. He's a hero. He's been doing unbelievable work on himself. Real work, work like nobody in this room has done the level of work that this guy has done over the last couple of months of his life. He put himself through Think of what it means to become the highest level Navy SEAL. That's what this guy went through.
And he did it with unbelievable courage. He told me he had the most meaningful Yom Kippur of his life. Because he spent the last couple. He didn't have Elul. He had months and months of Elul Of being honest, raw honest, and getting comfortable and being real and sharing with people and listening to people and being of service to people. And he's a different human being today and he's inspiring me. I really want to be like him. I really want to be like him. It's what I'm missing. I want to put myself through the same boot camp. And he had an unbelievable Yom Kippur. He had the best Yom Kippur of his life. I was so jealous of him. I also had a beautiful Yom Kippur, but I wonder if my Yom Kippur is one millionth of what this guy's Yom Kippur was.
And then a yid leaves Yom Kippur and there's a feeling of innocence. And then they walk into the palace and the walls of the palace, the walls of the sukkah, they're dirus harai. Why? Because you turned around and the walls weren't there anymore. What does it mean to turn around? The walls weren't there anymore. You realize that every barrier was all the Rebbeinu Sholom. That everything that I went through in this world—it was all Hashem. It was all getting me to this moment where I could finally become embodied. That I needed those barriers. I needed those things in my life to come up. Otherwise, those points of friction—they made me who I am. Every time that I failed, every time that I fell, every time that I was in that place of shame, every time I did that thing for the one millionth time, I was like, "I can't believe I'm making the same mistake again. Why am I falling into the same trap?" Every time I went through one of those barriers, it was bringing me—I didn't know it—but I was falling upwards. I was coming closer to being the Eved Hashem that the Rebbeinu Shem wanted me to be.
And some people give up on themselves and they're willing to take the spiritual treasures But they do, and then they're like something is missing because every one of us wants to be in that Sukkah. Every one of us wants to get to Hoshanah Raba. Every one of us wants to get to the inner sanctum of the King to finally become present with the Rebbeinu Shem in our lives and then be Ezed Hashem to have some Chastayra. There's so much more to share. I have no idea where we're holding on time. There's so much more to share. I just finished with this. You are the generation that's going to do this. Sometimes we think We discovered things. It's not true. There are certain truths that are now obvious in the world because the world has been working these truths through for so long. We're we're inches away from home plate. We're inches away from home plate.
I believe in a notion of collective consciousness. I believe in a notion of all of Klal Yisrael throughout all of history being just one neshama. And that one neshama has advanced and advanced until we're moments away from home plate. To the degree that there were tzaddikim that couldn't understand why it is that we're not already home, what are we missing? I think this last thing. I think with some humility. I think this last thing is what your generation is going to do to take us these last steps. You're going to get comfortable in your own skin. You're going to recognize that this disembodied Yiddishkeit that we have isn't working, and you're the generation that's going to refuse to quit. You're the generation that's going to say our homes are going to look different, our schools are going to look different, our yeshivas are going to look different, and the Torah that we learn is going to look different. It's going to look different because it's going to have to, because it's not working.
And the good thing is, when something stops working, that's when change really happens. So I guess I just want to give us all a bracha that we should be zeicher to do it together, that we should be zeicher to be mechazek each other in our moments of doubt and our moments of weakness. To see each other with kindness and compassion To invite each other into the sukkos of our lives To stop pretending, to stop putting up walls To start sharing honestly To start being real. To start seeing each other with compassion, because we finally see ourselves with compassion. And blessed Hashem, if we could do that We're mamish at the end. We're mamish at the end. But this last nakuda If we do it together It has to be together. The barriers that Chol Yisrael are experiencing with each other today on the streets. I'm saying one last thing. I want to say this. It's in my heart to say it.
We're not going to do this if we still stay in these silly camps. These camps, these communities that we created, don't mistake them for the Shvatim. They're not the Shvatim. These labels that we gave each other This is not the Shvatim. I don't want to start even saying any labels, but all the labels. Whatever labels I'm this, I'm that, I'm this machmir, I'm that make a lot. Shtyot. These are not. Don't think like no. I serve Hashem like Reuven. I serve Hashem like Don. I serve like Hashem like Yisachar. Don't think that these labels, these community labels that we gave each other, are designed to create achdus. And the thing that's stopping us is not political opinions. It's fear. That's the only thing that's stopping us. Don't think that we can. Yiddin will find a way to figure out how to sit at the same table and come up with creative solutions. We're very smart, from the smartest people that have ever walked the face of the earth. I promise you, if we sit down at the same table, we could figure out how to solve the political problems. The political problems are not the problems. The problem is I don't know how to sit at the table with you and not be terrified of you. And the reason I can't sit at the table with you and not be terrified of you is because I'm terrified inside of myself.
And so I created this world of terror that I'm now taking out on everybody else. With this absolute surety that I'm 100% right and you're 100% wrong, and each person is 100% right and the other is 100% wrong, you should know that comes from this concept of being a disembodied person. If we were comfortable in our own skin, we would listen to each other with kindness and compassion. You have a different way of seeing the world, Gvahaldik. That means you're other than me. That's beautiful. I want to be other than people. This way, I could be my unique self and you could be your unique self. All of it is born from fear. The solution to all of this, one solution, the silver bullet, if we could be comfortable in our own skin, we could stop being so afraid. Stop being so afraid of the Rebbeinu Shlom. Stop being so afraid of each other. Stop being so afraid of the world. A yid is not meant to live in fear. Why? Kiatoyimadi. Kiatoyimadi is not a hashkafa. It's a reality that we have to get used to. The Rebbeinu Shlom is not distant from us in this world. He's present with us in this world. That we should be zeicha. To be making that Sukkot David Hanayfalis bless Hashem together.
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