Let’s talk about tonight’s Torah and Tea for Parshat Beshalach. Many times, when we meet on a Tuesday night, it coincides with special dates—and tonight is one of those nights. Tonight is the 10th of Shevat—Yud Shevat.
Most people are familiar with Tu B’Shevat, the 15th of Shevat. But Yud Shevat is a very significant day—especially for the Chabad community, and by extension for Jews all over the world. On Yud Shevat, we mark the day the Rebbe accepted the nesius in 1951. The previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, the Rebbe’s father-in-law, passed away in 1950—also on Yud Shevat. It took a full year for the Rebbe to accept the leadership.
That is unusual. Today, many people chase leadership. Everybody wants to be a leader. I once heard the Rebbe say that people don’t just “walk for office”—they literally run. They are so eager to get it that they rush toward it. But the people who run for office are not always the ones best qualified for it. They may say they want to serve, but sometimes they have other agendas. A true leader feels the weight of responsibility. He understands what it means to carry the needs of others, and he takes that role seriously.
That is why the Rebbe initially refused. It took an entire year until he finally accepted. Now, on a day like Yud Shevat, everyone has heard so much about the Rebbe—so what can we add? I want to share two simple points.
First: we may “know” many things, but it’s different when we truly reflect on them. We can know stories and facts, but they don’t always affect us. When we stop and think, and ask what lesson we can take, it becomes more than information—it becomes something personal.
Second: I have the privilege of learning a great deal of the Rebbe’s sichos and reading his letters. And what strikes me again and again is not only how much the Rebbe knew—but how deeply he understood. There is knowledge, and then there is insight. The Rebbe didn’t just have information; he had the ability to analyze it, see its meaning, and apply it to real life.
And what amazes me even more is not only the Rebbe’s mastery of Torah, Kabbalah, and Chassidus—but his understanding of the human condition. You might think that someone on such a lofty level would be removed from ordinary struggles. Does he really understand what simple people go through?
But when you read the Rebbe’s letters and study his teachings, you see how deeply he understood people—their frailties, their challenges, their pain, and their confusion. He is there like a loving father: not condemning, not dismissing, but strengthening and guiding.
People can be quick to judge: “You’re not religious enough,” “You’re not doing it right.” The Rebbe wasn’t naïve—he saw reality clearly. Yet his approach was not judgment; it was responsibility and care. You might expect someone immersed in the loftiest ideas to become detached—like the “absent-minded professor.” But the Rebbe was the opposite.
If I had to name one theme the Rebbe demanded of us, it would be something simple: care. Care about another person’s Yiddishkeit. Care about their emotional wellbeing. Care about their livelihood. Care enough to give a kind word, to lend a hand, to be present. Not to live only for oneself.
We are naturally self-centered—human beings are created that way. But when you hear, again and again, “Be kind. Be sensitive. Take responsibility,” something begins to rub off. Those who learn the Rebbe’s teachings are constantly being reminded: look beyond yourself. Reach out to others. And yes, it includes strengthening Judaism—because to the Rebbe, serving Hashem is the purpose of life. But it comes from a place of love and concern for the person.
A true leader—a true educator—doesn’t only care about the “A students.” He cares about every individual. We’re told that Hashem chose Moshe Rabbeinu because as a shepherd, he would notice a weak sheep and carry it personally. Hashem said, “This is a leader.” A leader is someone who takes responsibility for every member of the flock.
So it’s no wonder the Rebbe was reluctant. He didn’t feel he was deserving, and he understood the enormity of the responsibility. And the Rebbe’s devotion to his father-in-law was absolute. What the previous Rebbe wanted became the Rebbe’s mission. He viewed his father-in-law as Hashem’s agent to guide the generation, and he bound himself completely to that directive.
If the previous Rebbe had explicitly told him, “You must become Rebbe,” he would have accepted immediately—without hesitation. But it did not happen that way. It took until the following year. And we understand that at that point, the Rebbe received the clear direction that he must accept the nesius.
That is Yud Shevat.
Now let’s turn to Parshat Beshalach. There is a verse that is a bit difficult to understand. In this week’s parsha, we read about Krias Yam Suf—the splitting of the sea. The Jewish people experienced an open miracle and sang Shiras HaYam. The Egyptians chased them with horses and chariots—and they came adorned with jewelry, gold, and valuable possessions.
After the miracle, Hashem caused the sea to expel the bodies of the Egyptians onto the shore. Along with that came an enormous amount of spoil. The Jewish people saw gold, silver, and jewelry everywhere—and they began collecting it.
Moshe Rabbeinu said, “It’s time to go. We need to begin our journey.” But they weren’t ready to move. They kept collecting. Moshe could not get them to leave.
The pasuk says: “Vayasa Moshe es Yisrael mi-Yam Suf”—Moshe forced the Jewish people to leave the Sea. Rashi explains that Moshe had to do so because the Egyptians had adorned their horses with precious jewelry. The spoil at the sea was even greater than what they had taken in Egypt. Before leaving Egypt, Hashem had instructed them to borrow gold and silver from the Egyptians. But here there was even more, and Moshe had to push them forward.
The Rebbe asks: why was this so important to them? From a physical perspective, we understand it—people are rarely satisfied. But the Rebbe’s question is deeper.
Spiritually, Krias Yam Suf was not only a moment of physical wealth—it was a moment of immense revelation of Hashem. The Jews saw open Godliness. They declared: “Zeh Keili v’anveihu.” At that moment, barriers were shattered, and they reached a very high spiritual level. So the question is: if they were so elevated and so close to Hashem, why were they so focused on money? They already left Egypt with great wealth—how much more did they need?
The Rebbe offers a powerful explanation. Hashem had given them a command in Egypt: “V’nitzaltem es Mitzrayim”—to “empty out” Egypt. Chazal explain: empty them like a net with no fish, like a storehouse with nothing left.
So the Jewish people did not see the collecting as greed. They saw it as fulfilling Hashem’s instruction. If there was still more silver and gold available, they felt they were obligated to complete the mission of “emptying out” Egypt.
Moshe Rabbeinu, however, said: “Now we move.” And Moshe speaks only what Hashem tells him—so this meant the instruction to collect had now ended. When the pasuk says Moshe “forced” them, it doesn’t mean they were rebellious. It means they had a different understanding. They believed they were still carrying out Hashem’s will.
And in truth, this contains an important lesson for us. We should strive to be successful and earn money—not because money is the goal, but because Hashem gives us resources to do good, to support Torah, to help others, and to elevate the physical into the spiritual. Hashem should bless us with prosperity—honestly earned, in a Torah way, and used for holy purposes.
But there is also a time when Hashem says: “Now move on.” Sometimes we are engaged in something good—even something holy—and still, it is time to go to the next step. You may love what you’re doing, but if it’s time to daven, time to take care of your family, time to go to work, or time to help another person—you must move. Sometimes even something good can keep you from what you are needed for now.
The Rebbe taught that we cannot isolate ourselves in comfort—whether that comfort is physical, or even spiritual. When there is a fire burning outside, you don’t start calculating. You put it out. You leave your place and you step into responsibility.
And if the leader—the Rebbe—says, “Now it’s time to go,” it may feel difficult, it may feel like being “pushed,” but that is how we grow. We are fortunate to have the Rebbe’s guidance and direction, constantly moving us forward—closer to Sinai, and closer to Mashiach. May it be speedily in our days. Amen.