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                         L'CHAIM - ISSUE # 929
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                           Copyright (c) 2006
                 Lubavitch Youth Organization - L.Y.O.
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             THE WEEKLY PUBLICATION FOR EVERY JEWISH PERSON
   Dedicated to the memory of Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson N.E.
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        July 21, 2006         Matos-Masei         25 Tamuz, 5766
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                             Light and Air

Imagine being able to actually change the air in your environment, not
through an air purifier or the likes, but by allowing your Jewish soul
to express itself!

Chasidic philosophy states that people have a G-d-given innate ability
to change and improve even the most ethereal element of their
surroundings, the air itself.

To understand this point properly, we have to pause to examine some
Hebrew words. The word for "air" in Hebrew is avir, spelled aleph, vav,
yud, reish. The word for "light" is spelled ohr - aleph, vav, reish.
You'll notice that the only difference between the two words in spelling
is the letter yud, which appears in the word avir, "air." In other
words, in Hebrew, "air" is "light" with a yud.

And what, of course you'll ask, is a yud? A yud is the smallest letter,
in a way no more than an essential point. As such, it represents the
essential nature of the Jewish soul.

So, to summarize, in Hebrew, "air" is a combination of "light" and the
soul's essence. Now, what does that mean, and what does it have to do
with changing the atmosphere?

Even nature reveals this relationship between "light" and "air" - and
how the Jewish soul connects them. For without air, a candle cannot
burn. No matter the size of the flame or its source, "light" must have
"air." If there is not enough air, or if the air is too thick, the
candle will go out, or not be kindled at all.

Why is this so? Why does light near air? You probably know the physics,
but you may not know the inner, spiritual reason:

Light, in the mystical tradition, enables us to see, and sight equates
to wisdom. What we perceive, we comprehend. Furthermore, "seeing is
believing," to borrow the cliché: When we know we're not seeing an
illusion, what we see we believe to be true - so much so that we don't
need arguments and can't be convinced with them. After all, we "saw it
with our own two eyes." And what phrase do we use when finally
understand a difficult concept? "Ah, I see it now."

Air, on the other hand, represents the more comprehensive, enveloping
powers of the soul - will and desire. Just as the atmosphere surrounds
us physically, so will and desire surround us spiritually, directing our
other powers and abilities, intellectual or emotional. In a simple
sense, we know this to be true: that which we desire we put our maximum
intellectual (and emotional) effort into achieving. Other things, no
more intellectually challenging,  we don't work at and we don't succeed,
not because we can't, but because we just don't want to.

And this brings us back to the yud, the essence of the Jewish soul, and
the statement of the Previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, that we have the
ability to change the air of our environment.

The Jewish soul strives and longs for purity. When we allow our Jewish
soul to illuminate our activities, we can change the external
environment over which we seemingly have no control.

While we cannot "purify the air(waves)" ourselves, we can refuse to
allow those elements that contaminate and defile  into our "air space."
And in so doing, we can extend and share the holiness of our atmosphere.

For innately, every Jew, every human being, wants and needs "light" and
"air" - the "light" and "air" of Torah.

     Based in part on an unedited talk of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, 12
                                                       Tammuz 5723.

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           LIVING WITH THE REBBE  -  THE WEEKLY TORAH PORTION
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This week, we read two portions from the Torah, Matot and Masei. In the
opening verses of Matot, we encounter the laws of making and annulling a
vow. Whereas a person cannot release himself from his pledges, in
certain cases, others can do it for him.

Masei begins with an account of the 42 journeys by which the Israelites
left Egypt and came to the borders of the Chosen Land. The opening
verse, however, suggests that all 42 of the journeys were an exodus from
Egypt; whereas in fact only the first journey was, when the Jews
literally left the land. To understand this seeming contradiction, we
must recognize that Egypt is not only a place but also a state of mind.
"Mitzrayim," the Hebrew word for Egypt, also means "confinement"; which
is an obvious contrast with the land of Israel, which is called the
"good and spacious land."

In fact, the entire time that the Israelites were not in their Land,
they were in confinement; each journey was, in reality, leaving the
"confinement" of Egypt. Yesterday's freedom can be confining today. A
servant who is allowed to start work at 5:00 a.m. rather than 4:00 a.m.
feels a sense of freedom. Tomorrow, however, or the next day, when he
becomes used to the later hour, he will consider 5:00 a.m. to be early.

The Torah portions of Matot and Masei are always read during the period
of the three weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av. They
are set in this time of bitter confinement, between the first breach in
the walls of Jerusalem (the 17th of Tammuz) and the Temple's destruction
(the 9th of Av, 70 CE).

The significance of this timing, especially that of Masei, is that these
portions convey to us, at a time when we most need reminding of it, the
concept of "destroying in order to rebuild." Destruction may be for the
sake of replacing a building with a better and stronger one. The Baal
Shem Tov taught that salvation is not something which simply follows
trouble: it is an implicit component of it. Just as the portion of Masei
combines two conflicting concepts; here, too, we find the fusion of two
opposites - destroying and rebuilding, affliction and salvation - which
comes only when we leave the confinements of human reasoning and journey
towards the all-encompassing expanses of faith. At this level,
everything is drawn into our faith.

Seen from the eyes of a son, punishment is an evil. In the eyes of his
father, it is for his son's own good. Our goal is to see history through
the eyes of G-d. And by so doing we are able to turn G-d's hidden mercy
into open kindness, and change the darkness of exile into the light of
the Time to Come.

       From Torah Studies by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, adapted from the
                                    works of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

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                             SLICE OF LIFE
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                          With a Torah Scroll
                             by Tzvi Jacobs

It was a weekend in June of 1988. My brother Charles (Besalel) and I
were spending the day of Shabbat together in Crown Heights, Brooklyn.
Our uncle had recently passed away and Charles was upset about the news.
Uncannily, or as Chasidic teachings emphasize, by Divine Providence, the
previous night, my wife Esther and I had enjoyed a Shabbat meal where
our host shared a very insightful story. Usually one avoids bringing up
the subject of death or other sad topics on Shabbat, a day to be
celebrated with joy. Although sad, this story also uplifted those who
heard it. Charles asked me to share it with him.

A doctor and his family had recently become ardent admirers of the
Lubavitcher Rebbe. The Rebbe's teachings and guidance brought much
happiness and meaning into their lives; so, in gratitude, they
commissioned the writing of a Torah scroll and made a celebration in
their home to mark its completion. Many friends, including many
colleagues, attending the affair. For almost all of them, it was the
first time they had ever heard of such a celebration, let alone attend
such an event.

The sofer, or scribe, sat with his quill and bottle of blank ink in
front of the open Torah scroll. The scribe had spent nearly a year
meticulously writing each letter of the Five Books of Moses onto the
parchment. Now, a few lines remained unwritten. One by one, each guest
approached the Torah and took the quill, and filled in a letter that the
scribe had outlined.

The final word of the Torah was filled in by the doctor and his wife,
two sons and daughter. The scribe rolled up the Torah, covered it with a
velvet mantle and a silver crown, and the "wedding" began. Under the
chupah, the wedding canopy, guests danced with the Torah, from between
the pillars adorning the front of the doctor's home through their
beautiful garden. A talented violinist danced in front of the canopy,
fiddling away.

The festivities transformed the dreary, winter Sunday of this Midwestern
city into an awe-inspiring holiday. Entering through the glass doors of
their grand dining room, the guests were greeted with a catered feast.
Just before dessert, the host and his wife stood together and eloquently
told the heart-warming story of how they had met the rabbi and began
attending his classes. Never before had the guests heard their brilliant
friend, the renowned doctor, speak such moving words. Hearts were
touched and tears were wiped.

The doctor signaled to the band and music resumed. Nary ten minutes
later, there was commotion at a back table. "Call an ambulance!" A young
woman, herself a doctor, was suffering a heart attack. Two doctors
kneeled beside her, giving CPR. Within minutes an ambulance came but
shortly after arriving at the hospital, she died.

The death of this young woman was very upsetting. "Is this how G-d
rewards this woman, who was attending her first kosher affair ever?" the
doctor later asked his wife. "We were trying to share the beauty and
preciousness of the Torah. How do I explain this tragedy to my friends?"

The doctor wrote the question to the Rebbe, and the Rebbe wrote him
back. Many had heard that the Rebbe's response was something like this:

No finite being can comprehend the ways of the Infinite Creator and only
G-d determines the length of a person's life, nevertheless, a person may
die in many different settings:  at a hospital, receiving good medical
care; on the highway, with no one around; or, in this case, at a joyous
and kosher celebration, surrounded by friends and doctors. Perhaps, the
whole reason for this celebration was so this person could leave this
world surrounded by friends at a joyous, kosher event.

Charles and I had been taught that when the Rebbe said "perhaps" that it
really meant "for sure." The Rebbe did not say or even more so, write
"perhaps" unless that was actually the reason in Heaven. Charles liked
the story; it comforted him.

On the following Monday, Charles moved into the yeshiva dormitory in
Crown Heights; he was studying part-time in the yeshiva and looking for
work. A terrible heat wave hit the New York area. My wife and I lived in
Morristown, New Jersey and thank G-d, we had air-conditioners. Charles'
dorm room in the yeshiva in Brooklyn, however, was not air conditioned.
He called to say that he couldn't take the heat; his excess weight and
constant smoking did not help either. On Thursday night, I gave Charles
the number of someone who could give him a ride to our apartment in
Morristown. Charles called later and said the ride hadn't worked out;
his room was too hot so he pulled a lounge chair into the hallway and
was going to sing himself to sleep.

On the following Friday morning, I received the call that Charles had
suffered a massive heart attack. He could not be saved. I couldn't
believe it. Gone. It was impossible. It was not part of the plan.

I had believed that the story that I told Charles was for him to make
peace with our uncle's death; now I saw that the story was also, or
primarily, for me. I tried in vain to find a copy of the Rebbe's letter
or find out who the doctor was, but all my efforts were in vain.

A few years ago, a student published an article in a newsletter for a
summer yeshiva camp in Morristown. Even though almost 17 years had
passed since I had told the story to my brother, I knew that I had
finally found the letter. (See "The Rebbe Writes")

May we all be reunited with all of our departed loved ones very soon
with the coming of Moshiach, when the dead will arise.

*********************************************************************
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                            THE REBBE WRITES
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                        Freely translated letter

The following letter is a response to someone who had informed the Rebbe
that they had hosted the dedication of a new Torah scroll in their home.
Amidst the jubilant atmosphere, a young woman suffered a heart attack
and was immediately taken to hospital. She ended up dying there a short
while later.

"How is it, that at such a momentous time, such a dreadful misfortune
could occur?" the letter writer asked. " What rational could be given to
explain G-d's ways in this most mystifying story? And what wrongdoing
could we have done to warrant such a severe punishment for ourselves?"
The Rebbe's answer follows:

In response to your letter, in which you express your astonishment at
the events that transpired in your home, and your bewilderment as to
your apparent wrongdoing, I would like to respond and share with you my
thoughts on the matter. To begin, if I may, I will first preface with
several key facts:

It is logically understood that it is impossible for a finite and
limited creation to comprehend all the ways of his infinite Creator. In
truth, even grasping any minute way of his would be utterly unattainable
if not for the fact that G-d, in his abundance of kindness, allowed us a
meek glimpse into some of them.

There is a Torah-based fact that no harm can befall a person directly
from the Torah or her Mitzvos (it goes without saying, therefore, that
one cannot be afflicted from an actual Torah scroll itself). Rather,
quite the contrary, Torah is the book which is known to prevent any bad
or evil.

Each individual is created with a predetermined lifespan. No person's
life is randomly ended at any given time, but it is rather prearranged
from above as to the exact time his life has been completed. (However,
it is possible to shorten ones life-span though self-imposed
wrongdoings.)

Bearing the abovementioned points in mind, we may deduce, that were it
not for your kindheartedness of inviting this woman to the celebration,
then she may have suffered her 'preordained' heart attack in much
different (or much worse) surroun-dings. She could have been in a
stranger's home, or going for a walk in the street, and consequently
would not have collapsed in the assisting presence of her doctors,
friends or family. In addition, she would have never received any
encouraging or soothing words from the onlookers passing by, nor would
she have had the support from seeing familiar and caring faces. Could
you imagine the significant difference between these two scenarios?

Furthermore, it is a common occurrence for one to experience their whole
life flashing by them in such desperate times. Now, try and visualize
the difference between such a saga when surrounded by strangers and
unfamiliar people to when one is being comforted by friends?! How lucky
she really was.

Perhaps we may add: Based on the famous teaching of the Besht that
everything that occurs is guided by Divine Providence, it is reasonable
to suggest that one of the reasons you were initially inspired to donate
a Sefer Torah was so that that particular day be chosen to host the
celebrations, in order that the passing of this woman (which was also
intended to occur on that same day) should be amidst inner serenity and
in a Jewish atmosphere. Moreover, that the passing should take place in
a home decorated with a mezuzah, which contains the holy verse from the
Bible, "Hear 0 Israel, G-d is our G-d, Hashem is one."

In regards to your query as to your obvious guilt that deserved this
'punishment', I would like to disagree with your whole notion and pose a
different question back to you: What great fortune do you have that
justifies such an opportunity of such an awesome Mitzvah to be granted
to you, viz, a) minimizing the pain of an individual in her last
moments, b) a deceased person that doesn't have any family to care for
them is rendered in the Torah as a "mes mitzvah." The great merit in
dealing with the body is evident in the fact that even a Kohen Gadol,
whilst serving in the Holy-of-Holies on the day of Yom Kippur is
obligated to depart from his duties and to care for the deceased. It
seems that such was the circumstances in your home (at least until the
ambulance came).

I would like to conclude by saying that in Judaism, no privilege is
given from G-d without a responsibility alongside it as well. Therefore,
it would not be proper for you to just sit back and enjoy the great
opportunity bestowed upon you, but rather you must endeavor to enlighten
others who questioned the same way as you did, thus ensuring that the
true account be known and appreciated.

                                             Translated by Eli Wolf

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                                CUSTOMS
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       Why do we read the Torah on Shabbat, Monday and Thursday?

Moses decreed that three days should not pass without the Jewish people
reading the Torah. While in the desert, the Jews "went three days in the
wilderness and found no water" (Ex. 15:22) and became quarrelsome. Water
is an allusion to Torah. Since the Jews had gone for three days without
their "spiritual nourishment" they became weary and quarrelsome. Monday
and Thursday were specifically chosen, according to one source, because
Moses went up to Mt. Sinai to receive the tablets with the Ten
Commandments on a Thursday and came down with them on a Monday. Shabbat,
then, is the only other day on which the Torah can be read and not go
three days without reading the Torah.



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                        A WORD FROM THE DIRECTOR
                         Rabbi Shmuel M. Butman
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The rebuilding of the Third Holy Temple is central to the Redemption.
Maimonides states that the rebuilding of the Temple will actually
confirm that the Redemption has begun.

There are two differences of opinion as to who will build the Temple.
According to the Zohar, G-d Himself will build the Temple. The Midrash
(Vayikra Rabba and Midrash Rabba) states that man will build the eternal
Holy Temple.

Maimonides' ruling agrees with the Midrash, saying that rebuilding the
Temple is a commandment incumbent upon the Jewish people.

Although these opinions may seem at variance, they are, in fact, not
contradictory.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains that the Jewish people will build part of
the Temple, as commanded, and that the Divine features of the Temple -
those aspects which will ensure its eternity - will be built by G-d
Himself.

Maimonides does not mention Divine participation because his work is a
work of halacha, Jewish law; he writes only about that which is
incumbent upon the Jewish people.

The man-made and the G-dly components will be combined in the Holy
Temple.

Chasidic thought teaches that this combination of man's effort "from
below," united with G-d's effort "from above," is the true meaning of
Redemption.

For, with the Redemption, the material and the spiritual will be
eternally and fully bound.

One explanation of how they will be com-bined is brought from the verse
in Lamentations, "Her gates sank into the ground..."

The Midrash asserts that the gates of the Holy Temple are buried on the
Temple Mount. When the Third Temple descends from heaven, the gates will
rise up - but only with man's help. As the one who fixes the gates is
considered to have built entire house, so too, in this case, the Jews
will thus fulfill the commandment to build the Holy Temple by fixing its
gates in place.

May it happen in the immediate future.

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                          THOUGHTS THAT COUNT
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Matot-Masei

The word matot, which means tribes, also means staffs. Staffs symbolize
stability and permanence, like a staff which is hard and strong. Masei
means "journeys," and alludes to a changing and non-permanent situation.
The fact that the two Torah portions of Matot and Masei are read
together teaches us that even when we are traveling on a journey, for
vacation or business, we must be as vigilant and unchanging in our
religious observance as when we are at home.

                                            (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)

                                *  *  *


To execute the vengeance of G-d on Midian (Num. 31:3)

The name Midian comes from the root madon, meaning quarrel and strife.
Midian symbolizes contention and unwarranted hatred. Therefore, the war
against Midian is truly "the vengeance of G-d." For, there is nothing as
opposed to G-d as dissention and needless hatred.

                                                 (Sefer HaMaamarim)

                                *  *  *


These are the journeys of the Israelites (Num. 33:1)

Why does the Torah mention all 42 stops during the Jews' 40 year sojourn
in the desert? To later generations it might seem beyond belief that
millions of Jews survived 40 years in the desert. They might say the
Jews traveled through habitable regions, sustaining themselves - like
nomadic tribes - with regional water and vegetation. The Torah
repeatedly describes the deserts, most completely uninhabitable, where
the people could never have survived. This, therefore, would firmly
implant in our hearts the belief that G-d Himself miraculously sustained
us and led our people through the wilderness.

                                                           (Ramban)

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                            IT ONCE HAPPENED
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Reb Leib Sarah's, one of the greatest of the Baal Shem Tov's disciples,
had long desired to live in the Holy Land. After years of struggle, of
wandering, of perfecting himself to the utmost of his ability, his
deepest desire was to settle in the Holy Land, there to be able to
attain spiritual achievements unreachable elsewhere.

Although he was himself a person of renown, he was also a chasid, and
so, he went to his rebbe, the Baal Shem Tov, to ask his permission and
blessing for the trip. "Rebbe," he asked, "I request your permission to
settle in the Holy Land, which is my heart's desire." But, to his
surprise, the Besht's reply was negative. The next year Leib Sarah's
again went to his rebbe with the same petition. But, again, the Besht
denied his request, without even an explanation. This scenario repeated
itself year after year for several years, and Leib Sarah's was deeply
disappointed.

One year he decided that he wouldn't go to his rebbe at all; he just
wouldn't ask. The desire to travel and settle in the Holy Land had
become so strong within him, that he could no longer deny it. So, Leib
Sarah's sat down with his wife and then with his children and discussed
the question of moving to the Holy Land, there to perfect his soul in
the service of his Maker. His wife and children were all agreeable, and
so it was decided to go. Wasting no time, he sold all of his worldly
goods save the barest necessities, and gathering all of his money, he
bought tickets for himself, his wife and children for the long journey
to the Land of Israel.

When everything was in order, Reb Leib Sarah's packed up his belongings
and set off with his family through Russia toward Turkey, whence he
would travel to Israel. It was a slow and arduous journey overland with
many stops in the small towns and villages through which they had to
travel. One day they came to a small town and noticed some sort of
excitement in the town. Leib Sarah's inquired of the villagers, and was
shocked when he heard their reply. For none other than the famous Baal
Shem Tov was unexpectedly visiting the town, and the people were
overwhelmed by the great honor of receiving such a personage.

Leib Sarah's was even more overwhelmed by his own dilemma. He thought of
the possibility of not going to greet his rebbe, thereby avoiding any
embarrassment because of his disobedience, but how could he not
acknowledge the presence of his great rebbe and teacher? He sat in his
wagon deliberating, when suddenly he had no choice, for the Baal Shem
Tov's carriage pulled up next to his own. Reb Leib Sarah's dismounted
and approached the rebbe. The Besht appeared to be surprised and asked,
"What are you doing here?"

"Rebbe, please forgive me for not heeding your words, but I am now on my
way to settle in the Holy Land."

The Besht replied, "Well, if your wish to go is so strong, then go. But
now, where are you going to spend the Shabbat?"

"I am just now searching for a place, but it's difficult since I spent
all of my money on the tickets for the journey," replied Reb Leib. The
Baal Shem Tov offered to host Reb Leib and his family for the whole
Shabbat. When they were in their rooms preparing for the arrival of the
holy day, the Besht knocked on Reb Leib's door, asking if he had
immersed in the mikva yet. "No," he replied, "I have no money remaining,
so I will forego the mikva this week." To this, the Baal Shem Tov
replied that he would pay the entrance fee for him, and they should go
together to the mikva. Reb Leib Sarah's joy was unbounded, for he
understood the profound meaning of the immersion and was relieved not to
miss his usual ritual.

Upon arriving at the mikva the Besht said, "Reb Leib, you go first."
But, he refused, saying, "Please, Rebbe, you go; you are my teacher,
after all." The Besht was adamant, and Reb Leib immersed first. After
the proscribed immersions were completed, he rose from the water, turned
to his rebbe and said, "I have changed my mind. I will not go to the
Holy Land. I will return to Medzibozh, to you. Let me tell you what I
saw in the mikva during my immersions. As I entered the water I saw a
continent. As I looked closely I saw the Holy Land, and as I looked even
more closely I saw Jerusalem. As I narrowed my focus still more, I could
see all the parts of the Temple Mount, even the Holy Temple itself. Then
I looked inside and saw the Holy of Holies, but though I strained my
eyes as hard as I could, I couldn't see the Holy Ark, the Tablets of the
Law, or the Divine Presence. In my anguish I cried out, "Where are the
Tablets? Where is the Divine Presence? But a Heavenly Voice answered me,
saying, 'They are found in Medzibozh.' Therefore, I am following you
back to Medzibozh to fulfill my Divine Service. I now see that during
the exile, the Divine Presence dwells with the leader of the
generation."

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                            MOSHIACH MATTERS
*********************************************************************
The Talmud states: "The son of David (i.e., Moshiach) will come b'hesech
hadaat - when the attention is diverted." Hesech hadaat is a very high
level of waiting for Moshiach. We are required to await Moshiach, not on
the basis of our own personal understanding of how good it will be for
us when Moshiach comes. We must divert our attention from all of our
thoughts of the material and spiritual good in the Messianic Era; our
thoughts need to be on one thing only - that the Divine purpose of the
creation of the world will finally be realized - that there will be a
dwelling place for G-dliness in this world."

                                            (The Lubavitcher Rebbe)

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              END OF TEXT - L'CHAIM 929 - Matos-Masei 5766
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