Hello. Today, in Torah and Tea, we’ll talk a little bit about the parsha, but we’ll focus mostly on Yud Shevat.
Yud Shevat is the tenth day of Shevat. It is the yahrzeit of the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, who passed away in 1950. A year later, on Yud Shevat in 1951, the Rebbe officially accepted the leadership and became the seventh Lubavitcher Rebbe.
So Yud Shevat—which this year falls on Friday—is a day when we both remember the previous Rebbe and celebrate the Rebbe’s acceptance of the leadership of the Chabad movement.
Most of us are too young to remember the previous Rebbe, because we were born after his passing. Still, there is something unique about the relationship between the Rebbe and the previous Rebbe.
A Unique Point in the Chabad Lineage
Usually, in the chain of the Rebbeim, leadership passes from father to son, generation after generation. There was an exception with the third Lubavitcher Rebbe—also named Rabbi Menachem Mendel, known as the Tzemach Tzedek—who became Rebbe as the son-in-law of his predecessor, the Mitteler Rebbe. (Interestingly, the Tzemach Tzedek’s wife was also named Chaya Mushka.)
Even then, however, the Tzemach Tzedek had a very close familial connection to the Alter Rebbe as well, because his mother was the Alter Rebbe’s daughter. So he was both:
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the son-in-law of the Mitteler Rebbe, and
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the grandson of the Alter Rebbe through his mother.
In other words, he married his first cousin, and the transition was still within a close family circle.
The Rebbe also comes from the Schneerson family (his last name is Schneerson as well), and his lineage traces back to the Tzemach Tzedek. The Tzemach Tzedek had seven sons. The Rebbe is a descendant of the oldest son, Rabbi Baruch Shalom.
The youngest son was Rabbi Shmuel, known as the Rebbe Maharash. And it was specifically the Maharash—the youngest of the seven sons—who remained in Lubavitch and became the next Rebbe in the main line of leadership.
So, the Rebbe Maharash became the fourth Rebbe. He had a son who became the fifth Rebbe, Rabbi Sholom Dovber (the Rebbe Rashab). The Rebbe Rashab’s only son was Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak—the previous Rebbe.
And then the Rebbe became the son-in-law of the previous Rebbe, marrying his middle daughter.
The Rebbe’s Total Devotion
Even though the Rebbe was a son-in-law and not a direct descendant by blood, his devotion to his father-in-law was absolute. And perhaps, in a certain way, this spiritual attachment was so overwhelming that it more than compensated for any “gap” in lineage.
It is legendary to think about how the Rebbe followed his father-in-law—how he respected him, how he completely subjugated himself to do what the previous Rebbe wanted.
For many of us, it’s almost hard to comprehend. How could someone with the Rebbe’s extraordinary intellect and strength—someone outstanding in Torah, in leadership, and in so many areas—subjugate himself so totally to another individual, even to a great Rebbe?
But the answer is actually simple: this itself was part of the Rebbe’s greatness.
Just as the Rebbe was brilliant in Torah and Chassidus, and outstanding in his abilities, he was also a genius in bittul—in self-nullification to Hashem, and to Hashem’s servants. That, too, was one of the Rebbe’s greatest qualities.
An ordinary person may not be capable of true bittul. But the Rebbe, with his spiritual strength, saw Hashem clearly. He saw his father-in-law as the Moshe Rabbeinu of the generation, and that is why his bittul was so complete.
Yud Shevat: Two Events, One Continuation
So when we speak about Yud Shevat—both the passing of the previous Rebbe and the acceptance of leadership by the Rebbe—in essence, it is one continuous chain.
The Rebbe never accepted the attitude of: “Now I am the new Rebbe.”
At every farbrengen, the Rebbe constantly spoke about his father-in-law. In almost every letter, in every sicha, the Rebbe referred to “the Rebbe”—meaning his father-in-law—“the leader of our generation.” He never called himself that. Even when thousands of Chassidim stood before him, the Rebbe’s message was: “It’s not me. It’s the Rebbe—my father-in-law.”
That is why it is hard to separate Yud Shevat into two separate categories. It wasn’t “one Rebbe ends and another begins.” It was continuity: one mission continuing through the next.
And perhaps this is one reason the Rebbe created such devoted followers. Because the Rebbe led by example.
In most areas of life—whether as parents, teachers, or rabbis—we sometimes tell others what to do, but we don’t always live it ourselves. That limits our impact. But the Rebbe’s influence was so powerful because his entire life demonstrated what he demanded: devotion to Torah, devotion to mitzvos, devotion to Hashem, and devotion to the mission of the previous Rebbe.
The Rebbe as a Conduit
We are learning in a maamar now about rebuke and prophecy. A prophet does not rebuke as a private individual. He becomes a conduit—Hashem speaks through him. In that sense, the prophet’s ego is irrelevant; he is simply a messenger.
In a related way, a Rebbe—an eved Hashem—does not see himself as an independent “self.” His personal ego is not the point. He is a vehicle to transmit Hashem’s Torah and Hashem’s will.
That is how the Rebbe saw his father-in-law—and that is how the Rebbe saw himself: as the one who would communicate and carry forward the previous Rebbe’s mission.
“My father-in-law is no longer physically here—so who will bring his message to the world?” The Rebbe did not see this as “my agenda,” but as being a mouthpiece for the mission that had to continue.
And because the Rebbe lived this way, he gave us the strength to live that way too: to subjugate ourselves to the service of Yiddishkeit and the shlichus the Rebbe demanded.
Mesirus Nefesh: The Central Theme
One of the central ideas the Rebbe emphasized—especially when speaking about his father-in-law—is mesirus nefesh, self-sacrifice.
Mesirus nefesh can take different forms.
Sometimes it is literal, as it was for the previous Rebbe under the Soviet regime. His activities were completely unacceptable to the Bolsheviks. The government had total power and answered to no one. This was the era of Stalin—millions of innocent people were murdered, and there was no justice system to appeal to.
The previous Rebbe’s work—building Yeshivos, strengthening mitzvah observance, maintaining Yiddishkeit—put his life in danger. Many people argued it was not “logical” to keep pushing: “If they arrest the Rebbe, what will be gained? He won’t be able to function at all.”
But the previous Rebbe said: No. He continued, he sacrificed, and he was miraculously saved. That is mesirus nefesh in the most literal sense.
But there is another kind of mesirus nefesh as well: giving up what you personally want, even when it’s not your life on the line. You surrender your own preference because you know: “This is what Hashem wants from me.”
For example, a person may enjoy deep learning, brilliant ideas, and sophisticated discussions. That can be fulfilling and respected. But what about teaching a child Aleph-Beis? That seems simple—almost anyone can do it.
Yet sometimes the greatest mesirus nefesh is giving up what you enjoy most, and what feels most “important,” in order to do what is needed on the ground: teaching children, building a mikvah, establishing a yeshiva, ensuring mitzvos are done—simple, practical things that change lives.
This flows from the fundamental principle: “Ani lo nivresi ela leshamesh es Koni”—I was created to serve Hashem.
When a person truly lives with that mindset, their personal enjoyment is not the deciding factor. The deciding factor is: what does Hashem want from me right now?
And the Rebbe taught that the deepest fulfillment of Hashem’s desire is specifically in the “lowest places”—in the difficult places, and with the people who are hardest to reach.
Most schools naturally celebrate the “A students.” They get attention, praise, and support. But what about the student who struggles, who resists, who can’t focus, who has emotional burdens? It is easy to give up. It is hard work, and it brings less “glory.”
But that is precisely where the Rebbe saw the purpose: to make a dwelling place for Hashem in the lowest place, by bringing light into what seems darkest.
That is mesirus nefesh—not only giving up your life, but giving up your comfort, your preferences, and your pride, in order to fulfill Hashem’s mission.
Beshalach: “Beyad Ramah”
This also connects to Parshas Beshalach. The Torah describes the Jewish people leaving Egypt “beyad ramah”—with an uplifted arm.
Rashi explains that they left openly, proudly, and publicly. They did not sneak out. They walked out with dignity.
And this is another message the Rebbe always emphasized: don’t hide Yiddishkeit. Be proud. Display it openly. Live it with confidence and strength.