Vayigash ויגש 2025 Love Without Delay

Yosef’s declaration, “I am Yosef — and my father is still alive,” was not a question but an expression of astonishment. Realizing that his father had unknowingly mourned him for twenty-two years, Yosef grasped the depth of Yaakov’s unrelieved pain — pain that could never be fully comforted because Yosef was, in truth, alive. Understanding that those twenty-two years were now complete, Yosef refused to allow even one more moment of suffering. He immediately sent his brothers to inform Yaakov that his son was alive, teaching a powerful lesson: there are times when distance and restraint are necessary, but once that time ends, love, closeness, and compassion must return instantly. When the period of pain is over, we do not delay — we reunite, we heal, and we begin living and loving again.לקו״ש טו-א

The Gemara defines Chanukah through the miracle of the oil rather than the military miracle because the Greek decree was not aimed at destroying the Jewish body, but at severing the Jewish soul from its Divine source. They were willing to tolerate Torah as wisdom and mitzvos as cultural practices, but they could not accept Toras-echa — Torah as a supra-rational bond with Hashem, expressed through mitzvos done simply because He commanded them. By defiling the oil, they tried to contaminate that inner holiness, yet one pure jug remained, symbolizing the eternal purity of the Jewish neshamah that can never be extinguished. While we thank Hashem for the physical salvation through Al HaNissim, the miracle of the oil reveals something deeper: when the inner light of our connection to Hashem shines, the physical world becomes merely a vessel to express that bond, and no external force can overpower it.לקו״ש כה

Yosef’s brothers were pained by his dreams not out of petty jealousy, but because each shevet had a unique and holy path in serving Hashem, and the dreams seemed to imply that their avodah was secondary or even wrong. Yaakov Avinu, after interpreting the dreams, chose not to write down their content but instead recorded the exact moment and place they occurred, teaching his sons that despite their diverse personalities and different modes of avodah, all service of Hashem is one unified mission. He impressed upon them two truths: it’s not about the person who serves but about Hashem’s will being fulfilled, and every individual’s contribution — no matter how small — is essential to the purpose of creation. The recorded “moment” represents all moments, and the “place” represents all places, revealing that every Jew’s service, in any time or condition, is part of Hashem’s plan. This message echoes in Yud-Tes Kislev, where the Alter Rebbe brought the light of Chassidus into the ordinary world, just as Yosef brought holiness into Egypt, empowering every Jew to transform his surroundings and help prepare the world for Moshiach.לקו״ש כה-א

Yaakov arrives in Shechem “complete,” meaning he was healed physically from the angel, his wealth was restored despite giving Esav a large gift, and his Torah remained whole despite the years in Lavan’s house. The Torah doesn’t emphasize that he survived Lavan and Esav because Hashem had already promised to protect him; that was guaranteed. Instead, it highlights that even the smaller “wear and tear” of life — the injuries, the financial strain, the spiritual challenges — were also healed and restored by Hashem. Yaakov’s journey mirrors our own: the Jewish people are eternally protected, but the hardships, pressures, and spiritual fatigue we face are temporary, meant only to bring out our strength and mesirus nefesh. Even as we work within the physical world to elevate it, our neshama and our Torah remain pure and untouched, and ultimately every struggle will be transformed and completed with the coming of Moshiach.לקו״ש כה-א

The story of Yaakov Avinu leaving Eretz Yisrael shows that exile is not only about escape or punishment, but about a deeper Divine mission. Just as Yaakov entered a place of darkness and transformed it into the birthplace of Klal Yisrael, so too our Galus has a purpose: to elevate the sparks of holiness in the world and bring light into darkness through Torah and mitzvos. Hashem sends us angels to protect us, guide us, and give us honor so we can live proudly as Jews even in exile. Our task is not just to survive Galus, but to transform it, until we return home to Eretz Yisrael with dignity and glory.לקו״ש כה-ב

Our “ashes” — the physical, day-to-day part of our lives — also really belong on the Mizbeach. On the lowest level, the ashes are taken outside to a pure place, meaning our regular life may feel separate from holiness, but we still live it with the intention of making time for Torah, tefillah, and mitzvos. A deeper level is when the ashes are placed next to the Mizbeach — even in our normal routine we see Hashem’s presence and holiness. But the deepest level is to know that even our ashes truly belong on the Mizbeach itself: that our physical life is not just a preparation for serving Hashem, but itself a constant way of serving Him — and the only reason we “take the ashes off” and go out into the world is to make space to bring another korban, to do another mitzvah and more good deeds.לקו״ש כה-ג

Chevron — the first part of Eretz Yisrael ever purchased — was bought publicly by Avraham Avinu, establishing the Jewish people’s eternal connection to the Land. Among the forty-eight Levi’im cities, Chevron was unique in that it combined eternal and personal ownership, symbolizing the deepest form of belonging. As one of the Arei Miklat, it served as a refuge for those seeking spiritual repair, embodying the mission of Shevet Levi — whose name, from “yilaveh” (“to connect”), reflects their role in uniting Jews with Hashem and with one another. In the Beis HaMikdash, the Levi’im guided and represented all of Klal Yisrael, fostering unity. Chevron, home to the Avos and Imahos, thus stands as an everlasting symbol of connection — between Hashem, His people, and one another — reminding every Jew that within us lies the same power to connect, to heal, and to unite.לקו״ש כה-א

Every person deep down wants to do what’s right, but layers of ego and distraction can cover that inner goodness. Sometimes a bit of prodding or pressure helps break through those barriers and reveal the divine spark within. This was the approach of Avraham Avinu, who welcomed guests with kindness and taught them to thank Hashem for their blessings. When some refused, he gently reasoned with them, and when others remained stubborn, he pressed further until they acknowledged the truth — not out of coercion, but because his persistence awakened something genuine inside them. Even if a person begins doing good under pressure, that single act can ignite transformation, for “mitzvah goreret mitzvah” — one good deed leads to another. Like Avraham, we must share light and goodness with others, knowing that even a small push can reveal a soul’s true self and lead to lasting growth and connection.לקו״ש טו-ג

When Avraham Avinu was ninety-nine years old, Hashem revealed Himself and made a covenant with him, saying He would make him the father of many nations. Hashem changed his name from Avram, meaning “father of Aram,” to Avraham, adding the letter hei to signify his new role as leader of many nations. Yet, the letter reish from Avraham remained, teaching that although he now influenced the entire world, he still stayed connected to his roots and his local community. The name Avram itself represents the highest levels of chochmah—wisdom—and kedushah—holiness—which defined Avraham’s essence. The message is that even as we go out to inspire and affect the world, we must never compromise truth or holiness, and we must not forget our families, neighbors, and communities—the people closest to us. Go out and change the world, but never lose yourself, your truth, or your connection to home.לקו״ש כה-ג

The Flood, the Rebbe explains, was not simply a punishment but a process of purification and renewal. Hashem first sent the waters as gentle rain, offering the people a chance to repent; when they refused, the same waters became a mabul of destruction. Yet even then, the rain still carried potential for blessing—the change came not from Heaven but from the earth’s corruption. The forty days of rain, like the forty se’ah of a mikveh, immersed the world to cleanse and recreate it. Called mei Noach, “the waters of tranquility,” the Flood washed away impurity and gave creation the ability for teshuvah and transformation. Likewise, the personal “floods” we experience—our challenges and hardships—can become waters of blessing when met with emunah and return. By turning our struggles into growth, we transform our own mabul into mei Noach, helping bring the world closer to the ultimate peace and renewal of Moshiach.לקו״ש כה-ב