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We find ourselves now in the parshios of the Galus Mitzrayim. Everyone has their own version of the haggadah. I'm going to share with you a very famous kashin. What do we say to the rasha? In the Hagada, there's the chacham, the rasha, the tam, the eni yodei alishol. What do we say to the rasha? First of all, we hit his teeth, we blunt his teeth, and we tell him, 'Ilu ha'Yashem lo ha'Yanigalu. If you were in Mitzrayim, you would not have been redeemed.' A lot of times we look at the Hagada and we think the Hagada is supposed to be the ultimate educational tool. What's the Hagada about? The Hagada is all about getting children to ask questions. It's a tool for education. But if I was starting a seminary today and a girl came and asked a provocative question, and my response was, If you were in Mitzrayim, you would not have been redeemed.
What do you think the chances are that the girl will stay? Slim to none. Why? Because that's terrible chinuch. We don't tell people if you were somewhere you wouldn't have been redeemed. What a terrible thing to say, Someone! And the way the Hagada makes it seem at first glance is like he said a chutzpahdik thing. He said like Maavo da'azos lachem. What is this? Like to you, like I'm not part of it. So you smack him in the mouth. You blunt his teeth, you smack him in the mouth, and you say if you were there you wouldn't have been redeemed. Some people they really learn this kibshuto. They think that's the way to turn someone around. Give them hardcore mussar. But for sensitive people, for people that are decent human beings. We know that can't be the pshat. What a terrible pshat, right? Can't be the pshat.
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Question, question number one: What does the Hagada really mean? Sometimes when something is so absurd, it can't be the pshat. There has to be a deeper pshat. Question number two: How much of Mitzrayim was left behind? Anybody know? Four out of five, eighty percent, staggering number. Eighty percent didn't leave. It's pretty wild. Why didn't they leave? What did these twenty percent have that the eighty percent didn't? So Chazal are very clear. The twenty percent were balei avodah zara. The twenty percent that got out were not sadikim. Far from it. These were people that were on the forty ninth level of tumah. They only had one thing. They wanted to leave Mitzrayim. The eighty percent that died in Machaschoshek and the three days of the Afele of Machaschoshek—they died because they didn't want to leave. Again, it's a very strange shot. If I'm a Balavai Dazarah, if I'm doing the worst averes out there, but I want to leave, then I go free. But somehow, if I just don't want to leave, even if I'm a righteous person.
I die. What's the pshat over here? So I want to share with you tonight the pshat of the Lebavitcher Rebbe's Chusiyah Gan Alena. The question is, just because I want to leave, I get to go if I'm a Russia. So I'm invalidated. Zare, you understand? It's not like I have much of a relationship with Hashem. I'm literally worshiping idols. Literally worshiping idols. I should get to go just because I want to. And the guy who's more righteous than me has to die in Makaschoshek just because he doesn't want to go. It's hard to understand. In order to explain this, I want to tell you a story. It's a marshal. It's not a true story, but it's a good marshal. There was a father who had five sons. The youngest son was getting married. This father was a man of incredible means, very wealthy. I don't know if you've ever been to these weddings that are exceptionally wealthy weddings. Has anyone here ever been to a wedding where they dropped a million bucks on the wedding? I was at a wedding once where the kallah wanted a mechitzah and the parents weren't interested in having a mechitzah.
So the caller came to her parents and she said I really want a mechitzah. My friends won't feel comfortable dancing without a mechitzah. So I understand you don't want a wall, but can we do the plants thing? The mother was horrified. The amount of money they were dropping on this wedding—you don't put plants in the middle of the dance floor. So you know what the mother did? She said, 'Fine. You'll have a mechitza like nobody else has ever had a mechitza. It will be the most beautiful mechitza.' They took the material. This is not an exaggeration. From the bridesmaids' dresses. From the bridesmaids' dresses. It's expensive material, and they bought enough of this material that they can hang it from floor to ceiling. Two giant pieces of material. And it was see-through, and they hung them at different heights. In between these two pieces, so the entire dance hall was illuminated in purple. It was like you were in a Harry Potter movie. I walked into the wedding.
I turned to my father. I said, "The mechitzah alone." He goes, "You don't want to know." This is my father's, one of my father's very close people. He's like, "You don't want to know." I was like, "What do you mean I don't want to know?" He goes, "That's the same material the bridesmaids' dresses were made of. They're ridiculous. Azachasim. That's what we're talking about. The father tells the children to buy everything they need for the wedding for their entire family: the jackets, the ties, the shirts. Buy everything you need. I'll pay you back at the end. Just make sure to hold on to your receipts. So there's four brothers that are not getting married. The oldest brother is exceptionally wealthy too. The second brother is pretty good. The fourth brother is definitely doing well for himself. The third brother is mamish. There's one in every family. He's just not doing well for himself. He's not a bad guy. He's trying, but somehow every business fails, and he's always going from one job to the next. He's not a man of means. The oldest brother goes out. He's got seven kids.
He buys every kid new suits, new shoes, new ties, new hats. His wife gets a new sheitel. After all, his father said, "I'll pay you back every penny," but you got to keep the receipts. No problem. He keeps all the receipts. Gets his wife a five thousand dollar sheitel. He's getting his sons two and a half thousand dollar suits. The whole nine yards. The second son, again, same thing. He's mamish going one after another, saving his receipts, spending ten, fifteen, twenty thousand dollars just on stuff for the wedding. Fourth brother does the same thing. The third brother has a problem. He doesn't have enough money to lay out for the wedding. He knows his father's going to pay him back. But he can't pay. He can't lay out the money. So his kids come to him and they say, 'Abba, are we getting new suits for the wedding?' He said, 'Of course. Your grandfather said that he's going to pay us back. So come, let's go. There's a sale in Suit Central or wherever you go to get your suits. There's a sale. We'll go. We'll get. And they get. It's fine. They get $200 suits.'
They don't get new hats. Their hats are fine. They don't get new shoes. They just brush them up. Finally, the wedding comes. Beautiful wedding. Twenty-five piece band. Schweiki and Avrom Fried. The whole nine yards. At the very end of the wedding, everyone's cleared out; it's just family, and the four children come to their father and say, "We've got the receipts." So the father looks at the third son. He says, "Give me your receipts." The third son gives him his receipts. He looks at it, writes a check, hands it to him, and says, "Have a good night." The third son leaves. The other three sons are sitting there waiting. "Abba, you said you were going to pay us back." He said, "I won't be paying you back." They said, "Dad, we spent twenty thousand dollars on clothing." He said, "That son, pointing to the one that was leaving the hall, that third son, that's my son."
If you were his brothers, you would have made sure to take care of his needs for the wedding. You would have thought to yourself. You would have been sensitive. You would have known that he wasn't going to have enough money to lay out. But you weren't sensitive because you didn't treat him like your brother. If he's not your brother, then you're not my son. And I'm not paying you back because I only said I would pay back my sons. The relationship between a father and a son is an exceptional bond. But it's a bond that can be broken. Let me explain what I mean. You're always going to be your father's daughter, your mother's daughter. You're always going to be that person. But you have a right in this relationship to decide. I am not participating in this relationship any longer. There are people like that. They get married, they move away from their parents. They call them once, twice a year. They never bring the grandkids out. What's their relationship with their parents? It's not much. Some of you may have grandparents like this.
What does it mean? You all know. There's one grandmother that you're really close with. She's my grandmother. I speak to her all the time. Somehow, she always knows how to call in the middle of dinner. And that annoys your father. How does she know? It's like she's got a camera in our house, knowing exactly when dinner was. But then there's the grandmother that I don't know. You see your father calling her on Sunday. You're not really so close. What's your relationship with that grandparent? You're the grandchild. It's true. But are you really? You're. I'm saying, are you really the grandchild? If you've abandoned the relationship, the relationship isn't going to work for you. So think about it like this. Imagine a father who says, "I have an inheritance, ten million dollars. It goes to all of my children except what." If you say you are not one of my children, then there's nothing I can do. I'm saying that it goes to my children. If you're willing to be one of my children, then it goes to you. If you're not willing to be one of my children, then the money doesn't go to you. So Hakadosh Baruch Hu comes. Listen carefully now. Hakadosh Baruch Hu comes to us at the end of 210 years of slavery.
And He says, 'I am willing.' To take whoever is my child out of slavery. Eighty percent of Klal Yisrael said, 'No, thank you. I want to stay.' Why did they say no, thank you? They said no, thank you because you're not my father. Because why wouldn't you leave? If you were a slave, why wouldn't you leave? Imagine you're a slave. Let's not make it so dramatic. Slaves in Egypt. By the way, we have no idea what Egypt was. We talk about the Holocaust. The Holocaust was nothing compared to Mitzrayim. The Holocaust at least had the humanity to bake us in ovens. In Mitzrayim, they were taking our children and making them into bricks. Look at the Midrashim. Don't trust me. Look at the Midrashim. The things that were going on in Mitzrayim were the most horrific things that perhaps ever happened in history. And now somebody comes along and says, "New, want a free ticket out?" And your response is, "Nah, I'm good." What does that mean?
It means you're a slave. It means you no longer have gone so far that you don't recognize that Hakadosh Baruch Hu is your father. What's your attitude? Your attitude is, I'd rather stay here. I'm not going out into the midbar. And by the way, even those who left, we see what happened. Every time they hit a bump, what happened? They freak out. We want to go back. Why? It's so hard to leave being a slave. What do you need? You need to be able to say that's my father, but if you don't want to be a child. Then don't turn around and complain. But on the flip side, stay with me. If you are a son, it doesn't matter what avera you did. If you treat someone like your father, it doesn't matter what avera you did. You hear these stories of this. Child that murdered, and who comes to visit him in jail? His mother. Why? Why does she come to visit him? Doesn't she know her son is a murderer? What's the answer? That's my son.
I'll tell you a true story. Not proud of this story, but it is family legend. There is a man who I think, if I'm not mistaken, was a. I think at some point he was on the cover of a major magazine. It seems he was a very wealthy doctor. He even owned a private jet and he murdered his wife. They never found the body because it seems that what happened is that he killed her and took her up in his private jet and dropped her over the ocean somewhere. Turns out, this is a cousin of mine. In the family legend, like when we all get together, me and my brothers were like. If you If you annoy me, in our DNA, in our genetics, you don't want to, you don't really want to upset me. You're like we're the Hulk, right? You don't want to see what happens when I get angry, right? Because our relative literally killed someone. He's in jail. Here's the craziest part. His mother says it wasn't him. They never found the body. They never found the murder weapon. He didn't do it. He's innocent. Your son's a murderer.
But nobody wants to say anything to her because a jury already said this guy is a murderer. But why can't she come to the conclusion that her son's a murderer? Because when you're a parent, it's hard for you to see the flaws in your child. They're irrelevant. It's not that it's not important. Of course, we want to educate our children. But that's my child. That's why. I gotta love my mom. Because when I was a kid. I used to get in a lot of trouble. My mother—may she live and be well—always defended me. She was so wrong to defend me because I used to deny till you die. So they would catch me, but just because you catch me doesn't mean you got me. You can't prove nothing. So I would call up my mom. Mom, they're lying. They're lying. And my mother would come. Again, God bless her soul. She would come every single time, and she would say My son wouldn't do that. I'm in my head, I'm listening to this. I'm like, 'Oh yes, I would.' I'm like maybe in fifth grade, sixth grade. Oh yes, I would. But every time, my mother had blinders on. Why? Because you love your child. All you want from your child is to say, 'What? That's my parent.'
If the child says, 'That's my parent,' good. Then I'm your parent, and I'll do anything for you. So let's think about it. Klal Yisrael comes. Eighty percent of Klal Yisrael, maybe they were righteous, but what did they say? 'I'm not your son.' So when Hakadosh Baruch Hu says, 'I will redeem my sons from Mitsrayim,' what does Hakadosh Baruch Hu say? He says, 'Anyone who wants, if you are my son, good, you're welcome to come.' But what's the problem? They say, 'We're not interested. We're not interested.' Twenty percent said they were interested. You'll tell me they were balei avodah zara. A father is essentially connected to his child. Essentially means that while you can break that bond and decide I don't want to be a child, the parent looks at the child and says I love you no matter what. Let's look at the flip side for a second.
Chazal say that when Mashiach comes, everybody will be redeemed, even those Jews that say I'm not interested in being redeemed. What's the obvious question now? We just got done saying that who's going to be redeemed? Only those that want to be redeemed. Why? Because God says I'll redeem my children. But la asid lava won't be that way. So what changed? So listen carefully now. How many people here believe in free choice? Okay. Is the following question free choice? I have two cups of water in front of me. This one I have not yet drunk from. It's a little bit larger. It's a little bit more full than this one. Now I have these two cups in front of me and I have to make a choice: this cup or this cup. Is that free choice? Let's think about it. On the one hand, I'm unencumbered. I could pick this one up. I could pick that one up. So it sounds like free choice.
It's not free choice. Let me explain what I mean. Right now, I have to make a cheshbon. The cheshbon is which cup do I want? So I have different things that I need to think about. For example, this cup I already started it. I don't want to start two cups. This cup has a little less water. Maybe it's a little easier for me to pick it up. Maybe it's a little bit easier for me to drink. Am I really making a choice or am I making a calculation? I have to know which one is better for me. There's a utility that I need, and one of these is better than the other for that utility. Even something as foolish as those two water bottles. One is purple, one is yellow or lime, whatever that color is. But they're different, right? This one has a certain top, this one has a different top. Maybe this one holds a little more, maybe this one holds a little less. Even the color matters. Maybe I want to get a water bottle to match my shoes. I don't know what you girls think, but each one of those things has a chesbun. That's not called free choice. Free choice would be this.
These water bottles. That was actually pretty good. These cups are now equal in every single way. There's the exact same amount of water. It's the exact type of cup. And now I put these two cups of water in front of me. Now it's free choice because the calculation doesn't matter. I want a cup of water. It doesn't matter this one or this one. So it doesn't matter. Let's say I find myself drawn to this cup. More than this cup. What does that tell you? It tells you that my relationship to this cup is what's called atzmi. It's not something about the cup. It's something about me. I find myself irresistibly drawn to this cup. I'll give you a good example of this. But it is a weird one. I know a couple where the wife is an identical twin. Okay? And the husband who married her is an identical twin.
Wait for it. And his brother married the sister. I don't like them. I'm not friends with them. I know that. I like them. I know who they are. Siblings married siblings. Identical twins married identical twins. Now it's a little awkward. It's a little uncomfortable. Let's do the buzz. How weird is that? It's weird. But I'll tell you what's really weird about it. There's a ramban. The ramban says that we have to be careful about our raya's. And the Remban says that one of the most powerful raya's is your sister-in-law. I'm not sure I understand this Remban But how weird is it to know that your brother married a girl who looks exactly like your wife? And your wife, your wife's sister married someone who looks exactly like you.
Which means, I got to assume—it's a little uncomfortable to say—I got to assume they're all attracted to each other. What does he say to his wife? You're the most beautiful woman in the world, except the carbon copy who my brother married. There's something really awkward about this. So I want to tell you, it's not true. It's not true. Another guy I know, and this one is a much closer friend of mine. He married an identical twin. He told me, "I'm not attracted to her twin on any level whatsoever." I said, "Come on, man. It's the copy. They're identical twins. I can't tell the difference." He says, "Exactly, but I can." He said, "Because you just see two of the same things, but to me, they're totally different." I said, why? Because like different personality. He goes, no, it's not personality. He said they're actually pretty similar.
It's something about her, something I can't define, something I can't put into words, something I can't describe. But I find myself deeply attracted to one and not the other. What does that tell you? That's called bechiru chavshes. That's a free choice. I'm not encumbered even by what, even by the differences in the cups. If the cups are different, then there's something that's saying, "Hey, wait! These are different. So I can't say the choice is truly free. Only when everything is exactly equal do we actually make a choice. Which means, as follows: You know that medrash that everybody says that Hakadosh Baruch Hu went to all the nations and he said to them, 'Do you want the Torah? Do you want the Torah?' And they all said no for various reasons until he got to Klal Yisrael. Maybe the depth of that medrash. Hakadosh Baruch Hu didn't have a relationship with those nations. He couldn't choose them. It wasn't deeply connective. But when Hakadosh Baruch Hu came to Klal Yisrael, He chose us. He said, "We could be something together." And we said, "Nasiv inishma," which was the proof that Hakadosh Baruch Hu made the good choice. We were exactly the same as every other nation in terms of our nefesh abahamis, in terms of our humanity.
We were all the same. But Hakadosh Baruch Hu chose us, special to be chosen. Everybody is waiting to be chosen. Every girl that I speak to, everyone that calls me up with shiduch problems. What are they really saying? If we boil down all the noise, what are they really saying? They're really saying, I just want someone to choose me. It gets confusing. I don't know what he's thinking. He said this, but he said that. I don't know. Fine, but forget all that for a second. Why do people care so much? Everyone wants to know about the Shidduch crisis. I don't know why it had to be a crisis. But it's a crisis. It's a Shidduch crisis. Everyone's talking about the Shidduch crisis. Girls, you know what the crisis is? The crisis is that everybody out there is waiting for somebody to say, 'You.' That's what we're waiting for. We're waiting for somebody to say, 'I choose you.' That's why when it finally happens We're so excited. Why? Because somebody said, 'For no reason whatsoever, "I just want to be with you."' Let's play it out. If somebody said, 'I want to be with you,' then they're not in love with you. They're in love with the cause. So imagine I said about my wife, and this is true. I love my wife because she's a great baker.
Is that a normal, healthy thing to say? It's a terrible thing to say. Why? Because if I only love my wife because she's a great baker, two things are going to happen. One, I'm going to become morbidly obese, which is one step above regular obese. Morbidly obese. Number one. Number two. Welcome back to some of you. Number two. What happens if she stops baking? It's not much of a relationship anymore. What happens if my wife, who is an avid baker, wakes up one day and she goes, "Nah, I'm done with this. I'm not really interested in anymore." Then the relationship is over because if I married you because of a cause, what happens when the cause is gone? I'll give you another one. Let's make it a little bit less obvious. I married her because she's a great mom. What happens when she's not a great mom? What happens on the days where she's frankly just had enough of the kids? What happens on the day when one of your kids comes home and does something terrible and your wife just loses it? It happens to regular people.
That was just in case she's listening. And the relationship is over. Let's make it more subtle. What about this one? I'll turn it around. I'll put it on you girls. I married him because of the way he makes me feel. Sounds romantic, right? When you really think about it, that's pretty sick. Because he's not going to make you feel that way forever. It's not going to always be that way. Some days he's going to come home from wherever he goes during the day. And he's going to have a really bad day. And frankly, he's going to need to go into his man cave and disappear. And you're not going to feel like a million bucks. There are going to be times where he says the wrong thing. Not on purpose, but just the reality. If you marry someone because of the way they make you feel, then what happens when they stop making you feel that way? The relationship is over. I gave this shiur one time. I can't say where. I had to go back to the airport.
It was a scholar in residence after Shabbos. I had to go to the airport to fly back to New York so I could fly back to Israel. I had a car, so I was going to go back to the airport. One of the balabatim in the shul where I had spoken said, "Can I give you a ride to the airport?" I said, "Well, I have a car. How would I get the car back to the airport?" He said, "Okay, will you have time to speak to me in the airport? I need time with you." I said, "Yeah, I guess so. I usually get there before the flight. But they're not going to let you through security." But I guess I don't need to go through security right away. Sure, if it's really important to you, he said it's really important to me. Fine, I go, I drop my car off at Hertz. He picks me up outside of Hertz. I go, I check in, and then I go back into his car and I'm sitting and waiting in the car with him until I need to go through security.
I sit down in the car. He bursts out crying. This is a man who's in his sixties. He said, "What's the matter?" He says, "You know that sheir you gave on Shabbos. You don't marry a woman because I married a woman because the cause has been gone for the last 25 years and I'm miserable." 25 years he's been living in a marriage. He doesn't know why he's in it. He said, 'I married her.' This is the list he gave me. She was beautiful. I felt like a million bucks walking around with her. But we're in our 60s now. It doesn't work that way when you get older. 'I married her because she was going to be a great mom. I saw in her exceptional sensitivity. Honestly, she's the most codependent woman I've ever seen with my children. If my children even sneeze, she goes crazy. I married her, and this was the last one because of the way she made me feel.'
Because when we were together, I just felt like I could fly, and I haven't felt that way in such a long time. So I asked him, 'So why did you stay married to her?' And he said to me, "Honestly, I just don't want the stigma of divorce." So I said, "Where do you want to go from here? You have a choice in front of you. You're in your 60s. You probably got some time left." If you want to get divorced, you'll find somebody else and spend the last twenty years of your life with someone you actually care about. But if you don't want to get divorced, you have to choose your wife. So he couldn't understand what I was saying. He said, "What do you mean I have to choose my wife? I chose my wife. That's why I'm talking to you. I chose my wife. Now I have this problem." I said, "You did not choose your wife. What you chose were things you needed, but she wasn't on the agenda. You said you like the way she makes you feel."
I like the way she looks. I like the mom she's gonna be. Those were all utilities. You could take a baseball bat and use it as a wedge to hold a window open. But that's not the best usage of the baseball bat. You could marry somebody because of the utility they'll bring you. But that's not the best. That's not the way it's supposed to be. So people say, "What do you want from a husband?" Well, obviously, I want someone that can provide a parnasa for my family. But that's something they do. So when you start thinking about what they do and not about them, you're not marrying a person. You're marrying a bank machine. Somebody asked me, 'How would you describe your life?' I said, 'I run a non for profit organization.' They said, 'What do you mean you run a non for profit organization?' I said, 'I work in a yeshiva to support the non for profit organization that I run.' They said, 'Really, what's the name of the non-for-profit organization?'
I said, 'It's called the Berg Foundation.' We have so far eight people that we're supporting. It is honestly very hard. Six of them are kids, and their father is very often an absentee father. The guy's looking at me like, 'Really?' I said, 'Yeah.' Thursday nights he's in Sharfman's. Wednesday nights he's in Mevaseret until you know eleven thirty, eleven forty-five at night. He's an absentee father. So the person's like, 'What are you like?' They realize something was going on. I said, 'It's my own family. It's a non for profit. We don't make any money.' The family is not producing any money. But I'm not a non-profit organization. I'm not here to just provide parnasa for the kids. And by the way, you know it too. Because you know the parents that they're not really connective. They just do a lot for their kids. So they say they're connective. But they're not really connective.
The guy who came to me said, "I have no relationship with my father." I said, "Why not?" I said, "Your father doesn't do a tremendous amount for you?" He said, "No, he does a tremendous amount for me. I've never wanted for anything in my life except for one thing." I said, "What's that?" He said, "We don't spend any time together. We don't talk." I said, "You mean you don't talk?" He said, "We don't talk." I said, "You like he doesn't ask you how your day was in school?" He said, "Nope." I said, is it possible your father doesn't ask you how your day is in school because he just doesn't want to pry?
He goes, nope. I said, what do you mean? How come he doesn't ask you when, how your day was in school? He goes, how could he ask? He's never around. So I said, what do you mean he's never around? He goes, my father works until very late at night. I said, okay, your father works to support you until very late at night. Do you have a karsatao for that? He goes, no, not really. I said, why not? He goes, because he's not working to support me. He's working to support himself. I just happen to be the beneficiary. I said, okay, what about Shabbos? He goes, you're kidding me. My dad's asleep. By the time we get to the soup, he said we play a game in my house. We take bets. How long will it take until dad falls asleep on a Friday night? Because he works so hard. So you know those fathers. Have you ever seen this at somebody else's Shabbos table? That dad, right after challah starts to do the head bob, he starts to do this. He starts to do the yeah. And sometimes I wonder about those people. How the head actually stays on.
They do. And by the way, the front one is the big one. That's the good one, because this one looks much more painful. And they get the whiplash. At least with you girls here in seminary, I see you use each other as pillows. One girl lies down on the shoulder, the other girl lies down. You're like Forrest Gump huddling up against each other in the Vietnam War. And that's not talking about the girls that are hiding their cell phones in their skirts from so you shouldn't see in the back. And I'm saying I know you see. He's like, my daddy's asleep by the soup. I said, but do you daven next to each other? He goes, no, my dad daven's hashkama minyan. He's used to waking up early. And honestly, I can't wake up until the nine o'clock minyan. I said, so you don't daven together. What about Shabbos lunch? He falling asleep Shabbos lunch? He goes, Rabbi, Shabbos lunch in my family is a forty five minute ordeal.
So your dad has hobbies? He goes, I wouldn't know. I said, what about Sundays? Everyone takes off on Sunday. He goes, not my dad. My dad doesn't take off on Sundays. What's the one thing he's missing? He's got a dad, right? He's got everything he needs. He's got a car. He's got a house. He's got clothing. He was able to come to yeshiva. His father paid full tuition. What's the only thing he's missing? A dad. He's got a bank. He's got clothing. He's just missing his father. I know how my dad loves me. My dad worked really hard, really, really hard. But where was he every Sunday afternoon? Coaching my little league team. Coaching my little league team, The young Israel Farakaway Pathetics we called ourselves. We weren't very good. You know what my dad wanted to be on Sunday? He wanted to be watching football. I know that my father used to tape the games so that he could coach our little league team. The most frustrating thing in the world to my father was when a dad would come to pick up their child after Little League after the game, and he would say to my dad, "Did you see the Jets win today?" And my father be like
How could I have seen it? I was here, and it would ruin it because he was waiting to go home to watch the Jets game. I saw it in the car on the way home. He'd be muttering, "Can't believe it! I've been waiting for that game." I knew he was upset. But of course we were the priority. You know how you know when someone loves you when you are the priority in their life when they have other things they'd like to be doing. My dad worked really hard. He was traveling all across America. He was in advertising. He had some big accounts. He had an account called Tricon. Over five hundred million dollars a year they spent in advertising. And you know what Tricon is because Tricon is Pizza Hut, KFC, and Taco Bell. That was one of my father's accounts. My father had an account. You've definitely heard of this one, Burger King. He ran their national advertising. AT and T. He was a busy man.
But Sunday afternoons, when I'm sure he wanted to be watching the football game, he was with us. Someone loves you when they choose you. I'll tell you an extreme story. There's a Rebbitzin today. I'm deciding if I should say who she is. I'm not going to say who she is. There's a Rebbitzin today whose father was considered one of the gedolei hador in America. And she herself is a pretty chasvah rebbitzen. Her father was considered a major gedolah dar in America. Her father was a rashi shiva. She told one of my closest friends, 'My he asked her.' He said, 'What's it like to be the daughter of this gadol?' Do you know what she said to him? She said, 'I was the second most important thing in my father's life.' He was taken aback. What a terrible thing to say! You're the second most important thing. She explained to him. She said, 'You have to understand. My father was the gadol ador. He was more important than the president of the United States. I knew that what came first for him was klal yisrael. I knew that I came second.'
But here's the thing: I never came third. I never came third. She said there were times when at night I wanted to hang out with my father, but my father was on the phone and he was discussing life and death issues, and he was dictating policy all across America. So I never came first, but I also never came second. When there was something that was less important than Klal Yisrael's needs, I always came before that. So she said it made me feel like a million bucks that one of the most important people in the world. I was the most important thing outside of Klal Yisrael. What's she really saying? It's hard to swallow that. When you hear it, it's hard to swallow. But it's true. When an important person chooses you, it's the most incredible feeling in the world. Here's the thing about choose, real choosing. Once you choose, you can't unchoose. It's impossible to unchoose. See, a father-son relationship, a father-daughter relationship, it can become a broken relationship. All the son has to do is choose to say, "I'm no longer a son," and then there's a break in the relationship.
But if I choose you, what does that mean? What does that saying mean? I will always choose you, no matter what. I, that son, is saying, "Yeah, but I don't choose you." But in this case, if I've chosen you, if it's not a natural relationship, if it's a choice relationship, can that choice ever be broken? It's not shyach to be broken. So now let's go back to it. By Matan Torah, the Lubavitcher Rebbe says, Hakadosh Baruch Hu chose us. Which means that something changed in the DNA of Klal Yisrael. Up until now, up until Matan Torah, we were His children. Now we're His. You hear the difference? We're not just Hashem's child anymore. We're His. We belong to Him. Not that we belong to Him in the sense that we don't have free choice to Chassid Shalom leave Him. We belong to Him in the sense He will never stop choosing us.
So the Asad level in the times of Mashiach Every single Jew will be redeemed, even those that say, "I'm not interested in being redeemed." Why? Because Hakadosh Baruch Hu will always choose us. And with this, we're now going to return to our original question. But girls, you need to open not just your ears now; you need to open your hearts to hear this. A young man is sitting at a seder table, and he is off the darach. He comes with the yarmulke perched on his head because he hasn't worn it in quite some time. He doesn't wear tzitzis. He shows up in nice clothing but certainly not the Shabbosik clothing that the rest of the family is wearing. He grew up Orthodox but left, like so many kids unfortunately do. He left, but he's respectful enough to show up to the seder, right? Ma ha avoda hazos l'chem, The Rashi says, what is this avoda to you? Think about what that child is going to feel in that moment when the Hagada says 'Hake eshinav, Hit him in the mouth,' and tell him 'Ilu haYasham lo haYenigalu. If you were in Mitzrayim at that time, you wouldn't be redeemed. Think about what that off the Derech kid is going to feel. You're reading the Hagada wrong. Listen to how to read it. One small change, and the whole story is different.
We hit him in the mouth and we say, 'Don't speak foolish things.' If you were in Mitzrayim, you wouldn't have been redeemed. But we live in a post-Matant Torah world. Now everybody gets redeemed. So you're the kid who you think you're too far gone. You're never going to be too far gone. You might be running away from God, but God never stops choosing you. Don't speak foolish things. Hit him right in the teeth. You think you went off the derech. You know why? Because you thought. Hey, I left. Hakadosh Baruch Hu doesn't want me anymore. You know what the most common question I get is? This is the most common question I get. Rebbe, there's no such thing as real tshuva. Why not? Because the Rambam says that if you do the avera, you have to first admit that you did the avera. Second, you have to be makabel on yourself. You're not going to do the avera again. And third, when the opportunity comes up to do the avera again, you say, "No, I'm not going to do it," and you don't do it. But Rebbe, I've done the avera. I admitted that I did the avera.
I committed that I was never going to do it again, but then, Rebbe, I feel like I did it again so many times. How many times is Hakadosh Baruch Hu going to say, "I forgive you"? If a kid comes to their parent and they constantly say, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you know what your mom's going to say back to you? I don't believe you anymore. Sorry only matters if you actually mean it. Most guys, most girls, they're coming to me and they're saying it's impossible for me to return. Because I've made this mistake so many times, don't look at me and tell me Hakadosh Baruch Hu is going to forgive me. I know I am unforgivable. You don't leave Mitzrayim when you believe you're unforgivable. You know why so many kids go off the derech and stay off the derech? It's because nobody ever told them that no matter how far they go, Hakadosh Baruch Hu will continue to choose them, even if they made the mistake a million Two million, three million times in a row. Hakadosh Baruch Hu is waiting for us.
I have an idea. What if our chinuch habanim? What if the way we raised our children was as if our children were conservative, Reform, reconstructionist Jews? Sounds like a radical idea. Tell me. When a kid who's off the derech comes into shul, how do the people in shul treat him? He finally came back to shul. He hasn't been in shul for a while. But he comes into shul a little awkward. He hasn't been there in a while, and he pulls out a sitter. It's like he's a hero. Everyone goes over to him. Welcome back! It's so good to see you. They put their arm around him. We wish we would see you more. You know that old Chabad joke: a guy comes to shul on Yom Kippur. He only comes to shul on Yom Kippur. So the rabbi goes over to him and he says to him, "Sidney, we would love for you to join God's army." So Sidney turns back to the rabbi and he says, "Rabbi, what do you mean? Of course I'm in God's army." Sydney, if you're in God's army, how come we only see you once a year? Sydney says, "Rabbi, I'm in the secret service." Come on, only once a year. I'm in the secret service. If a kid shows up to shul, we make the biggest deal about it. Why? Because we care to let that kid know how important you are and how essentially loved you are.
That bond can never be broken. And yet, when it comes to our chinuch, this is what it looks like. A girl is only showing up sixty percent of the time. Not here, but somewhere. Get called in. Is this what you came to Sem for? Forty percent of the time you spend in your bed, you're cutting your classes, you're going to Yerushalayim. Is this what you came to Seminary for? What does a girl feel like at the end? She feels like I feel like I'm just getting beaten over the head with this. Imagine what it would be like if every single time we came. The teacher that was teaching the class, the rebbe that was teaching the class, looked at us and said, 'It's so nice to have you here.' Don't we want to be around those people, the people that say, 'No matter how far gone you are, you're essentially loved.' There's a line in a song that was put out by Waterbury. I believe the name of the song is Brothers.
So there's one line in that song. It's a very touching line. Even if I stopped believing, you would never stop believing me. That's what we're all looking for. We have to tell the Russia inside of ourselves, Hakeishina, shut your mouth. You'll always be redeemed. Hakadosh Baruch Hu is waiting for us. The question is, are we willing to turn around and say to Him, Yeah, I'm in. Either way, we're going to be redeemed. The only question is, how do we participate in the relationship? Girls, have a good Shabbos. I just want you to know, Tequila apologizes for not showing up. She had a barmat. Who can send?
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