Likkutei Amarim Chapter 24 · 5781

00:01 Speaker 1 I didn’t see that that’s what people come for. What for? This whole explanation. No, no, really. Okay. Do you have his number? Interesting. No. Not in the light? No, yes. No, I’m joking. Do you remember? No, just kidding. I don’t. Oy, oy, oy. No, but you heard him. You heard.

00:19 Speaker 2 Looking, right? Huh? Looking, hello? Okay, good. Good, let’s begin. All right. Our chapter today was a little, a little longer. We went through several points. The previous sections dealt mainly with one subject. The Alter Rebbe began a line of explanation to show us something. He taught us how we can reveal—or, more precisely, use—our hidden love, which everyone is born with, to keep mitzvos and avoid transgressions. But first, to explain what hidden love is, what that soul is—that spiritual part within every Jew that becomes apparent outwardly, the soul—how do we use it? How do we reveal it? So he showed us several things and a few examples: when a person faces a test of faith, a test of sanctifying Hashem’s name, we suddenly see this G-dly soul awaken and cast everything aside—what’s that?

02:27 Speaker 1 The air conditioner, the air conditioner. The air conditioner.

02:29 Speaker 2 Oh, they’re already fixing it, aren’t they?

02:32 Speaker 1 No, it was in the car, lying there.

02:34 Speaker 2 Okay, thank you. So when a person faces a test that calls for mesirus nefesh, the G-dly soul suddenly awakens, suddenly comes out and reveals itself. A person is ready to give up his life, even though he had no preparation, no thought about it—it comes as though it were suddenly created from nothing. Mesirus nefesh just comes. To show us how we can awaken this power within ourselves, to give ourselves over to sanctifying Hashem’s name at every moment, throughout the day, all the time, all our lives, he said we first need to understand the two central mitzvos in the Torah: the unity of Hashem and the prohibition of idol worship. So look, what is the unity of Hashem? It is believing that there is nothing besides Him, that the entire existence of the world is as nothing. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the only true existence, and He is the One who gives life to all the worlds, sustains them, brings them into being and holds them in existence. The fact that we experience ourselves as separate entities is only our perception. The truth is that there is nothing besides Him. “You are the same before the world was created, and You are the same after the world was created.” Belief in this is called the unity of Hashem. What is idol worship? It is a denial of this. You understand that when a person—not only a Jew, any person—denies Hakadosh Boruch Hu and feels himself to be an independent existence, feels himself separate, he is declaring, “I am the opposite of the unity of Hashem!” The unity of Hashem means there is nothing besides Him. Idol worship means, “I do exist; I am an entity.” And the more a person feels himself to be an entity—“I, and nothing besides me”—the more he feels that he is in charge, that no one will tell him what to do, and that he thinks for himself,

04:51 Speaker 2 understands for himself and feels for himself—the more a person feels himself to be an independent existence, the more separate he is from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That was what those three chapters explained: what the unity of Hashem is and what idol worship is. The unity of Hashem means self-nullification before G-dliness, while idol worship means separation from G-dliness: feeling oneself to be an entity, feeling one’s own independent existence. Then, all right, what does that have to do with us? When I put my hand over my eyes for Shema, I understand it and feel it as sanctifying Hashem’s name. But what does this whole matter of the unity of Hashem and idol worship have to do with me? What does it have to do with my everyday life? He began explaining this in the chapter we learned last week, and finishes it today. Last week he explained that every positive mitzvah, all 248 positive mitzvos, is, in effect, a particular expression of the unity of Hashem. Because what is the unity of Hashem? To unite with Him, to know and feel that there is nothing besides Him. What does every mitzvah tell us? Every mitzvah is Hashem’s will. When a Jew fulfills a mitzvah, no matter which one—a major mitzvah, a minor mitzvah, a mitzvah ordained by the Sages—we saw last week that at that moment his physical body becomes a vehicle for G-dliness, while his soul becomes nullified before G-dliness like a body before its soul. That is the distinction he explained, right? The difference between a vehicle and its rider, and a body and its soul. So when a person fulfills a mitzvah, the body that performs it is like a vehicle for its rider: it is nullified before G-dliness. And at those moments, his soul is like a body to its soul. His soul is, so to speak, the body, while the Divine will is the soul that gives it life at that moment. That is when he fulfills mitzvos. And when he learns Torah—well, that is much more than that. When a person learns Torah, it is

06:58 Speaker 2 not only like a vehicle and its rider, or like a body and its soul; he actually unites with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He becomes one with Him. He and Hakadosh Boruch Hu—one and the same, truly one. He actually unites with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. So, of course, with each and every mitzvah—all 248 positive mitzvos and all seven mitzvos ordained by the Sages—a Jew unites with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In this way he reveals that Hashem is one and His name is one, because he unites with Him. But I still don’t feel it, as you remember. I don’t feel it. So what good is it? So what if I unite with Hakadosh Boruch Hu if I don’t feel anything? True, says the author of the Tanya, you don’t feel it, but it is enough to motivate you to keep mitzvos and keep you from transgressing. Each of us knows that if someone explains that through a mitzvah he unites with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, he wants to do the mitzvah. Even if I don’t feel it, it is enough that I know it is so. I believe it; I know it is true. But explain such a thing to a non-Jew, and it will not make him want to do a mitzvah. Explain it to a Jew, and it truly creates in him a desire to keep mitzvos. It is enough for him to know that such a thing exists. So he explained this to us at length. Chapter 24 continues the previous chapter and explains the other side. What happens when a person transgresses a negative commandment? When he fulfills mitzvos, he becomes nullified before G-dliness. What happens when he commits transgressions? That is chapter 24. “And corresponding to this are the 365 Torah prohibitions and all the prohibitions ordained by the Sages.” Exactly opposite the positive mitzvos: since all the negative commandments are contrary to His will and wisdom,

08:46 Speaker 2 blessed be He, they are their very opposite. So all the negative commandments are utterly separate from His unity and oneness, just like the sitra achra and the kelipah called “idol worship” and “other gods.” So G-d made one thing corresponding to the other. Just as through a mitzvah a Jew unites with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, just as when he sanctifies Hashem’s name, so too, when he commits a transgression—no matter which transgression—he separates from Hakadosh Boruch Hu exactly as though he were now engaged in idol worship. There is no difference. It is exactly the same. Even the smallest transgression, even one prohibited by the Sages. I don’t know, some rabbinic Shabbos restriction. The Sages prohibited it. I don’t know—muktzeh, or any of the small details in the laws of Shabbos. When a Jew commits even the smallest transgression, at that moment he is subservient to the kelipah called idol worship. It is as though he were actually worshipping idols right now. And why is it called “idol worship” and “other gods”? We explained in chapter 20 that it is because the Supreme Will is concealed from it. How does the sitra achra receive its life? Who sustains it? Hakadosh Boruch Hu sustains it and gives it life. How does He give it life if He does not want it? Why does He give it life? As we said, there is such a thing as receiving from the “back,” so to speak. Why the “back”? Because He does not want it for its own sake. He wants it to exist so there can be a test, for the sake of something else. That is called receiving from the “back.” Since He does not truly want it, He gives it only a very small amount of life. Therefore the sitra achra is the source of death and impurity. And if, when a person commits a transgression, he becomes subservient to that kelipah called idol worship, then at that moment, where does he receive his life from? From the source of death and impurity. That is what gives him life.

11:07 Speaker 2 And he says more than that. Not only is the transgression itself like the sitra achra, but so are the three garments of the soul from kelipas nogah in a Jew. Do you remember chapters 6 and 7, where we learned about the animal soul? We learned that the animal soul’s source and essence are from kelipas nogah, and it has three garments—thought, speech, and action—just as the G-dly soul does. So when—well, the transgression itself, desecrating Shabbos, for example, is certainly sitra achra. There’s no question about that. It’s directly against Hashem’s will. But when a Jew commits a transgression, he’s actually doing it. Who commits the transgression? The body does. There’s a soul within him that gives life to the body and sustains its limbs, its mind, and its heart. That’s the one committing the transgression. Which soul is it? The animal soul—the G-dly soul. The animal soul. That’s the one committing it. That’s the one that now feels like desecrating Shabbos, or committing any other transgression. Right. So the garments of the animal soul—thought, speech, or action—which are now putting the body into motion, are now subservient to the sitra achra. They are now clothed in the kelipah called idolatry: thought, speech, and action clothed in the 365 prohibitions of the Torah and of the Rabbis. And not only the garments of the animal soul, but the essence of the soul itself. After all, the animal soul uses its garments to put the body into motion, but it’s the soul using those garments. The garments aren’t... A person’s clothing doesn’t make the person inside it. The soul’s garments are its garments. It clothes itself in—who’s moving the—when someone slaps his friend, “My hand slapped him, not me”? What do you mean? Its garments are itself. So the essence of the soul itself is clothed in its garments. All of them—the soul, its garments, and the body committing the transgression—

13:22 Speaker 2 are actually united with the sitra achra. That’s slightly strange wording. You become united with G-dliness. When a Jew commits a transgression, he becomes united with the sitra achra. He becomes one with the kelipah called idolatry.

13:36 Speaker 6 A Jew—there’s no middle ground.

13:37 Speaker 2 What?

13:37 Speaker 6 In short, for a Jew there’s no middle ground.

13:39 Speaker 2 Ah, I have things to say. Right. You saw—the truth is, we’ve already seen this idea in Tanya. In that same chapter, he also said that the things we call permissible matters, ordinary matters—they’re not holiness, but they’re not... they’re not kelipah. Right? So he says they are sitra achra. We already spoke about that there. All the things of this world that have no aspect of prohibition in them, neither a root nor a branch of the 365 prohibitions of the Torah or their rabbinic offshoots—they aren’t connected to any transgression, but they aren’t connected to holiness either. That’s called kelipah. Even if they aren’t impure kelipos, even if it’s kelipas nogah, it’s still kelipah. So they’re all actually united with the sitra achra, and this kelipah is called idolatry. And more than that: they are subservient and subordinate to it. Well, we already said they’re subservient and subordinate to it. What does “more than that” mean? What’s more? In what way is a person who commits a transgression worse than the sitra achra itself? Wait, did you hear that? A person who commits the transgression is worse than idolatry. Why? Why?

15:00 Speaker 6 Idolatry does what Hashem wants, and he—

15:03 Speaker 2 Right, right, right.

15:04 Speaker 7 He can do more.

15:05 Speaker 2 Exactly right. That’s precisely what he says.

15:09 Speaker 6 You can’t. You can’t do what they did.

15:15 Speaker 2 That’s precisely what he says. They are subservient and subordinate to it, and far worse and lower than it. For the sitra achra itself, the kelipah itself called idolatry, is not clothed in a physical body. And because it isn’t clothed in a physical body, it knows its Master. Therefore, it does not rebel against Him by acting through its emissaries, the angels of destruction, without being sent by the Omnipresent, blessed be He, G-d forbid. This week I saw a story about one of the chassidim, Pinyeh—I think it was Pinyeh Althaus. They described him as a Jew who was so removed from worldly concerns. No, they didn’t say he was the beinoni of Tanya. They didn’t say that. He was a Jew who was so removed from worldly concerns, who served Hashem. They said of him that he was at the level of “knowing his Master and intending to rebel against Him.” So although it’s a kelipah, it’s spiritual; it isn’t clothed in a body, and nothing obscures G-dliness for it. It knows, and therefore it does not rebel against Him by acting through its emissaries, the angels of destruction, without being sent by the Omnipresent, blessed be He, G-d forbid. That idolatry should do something Hashem did not send it to do? G-d forbid. So what about idolatry? To do something against Hashem’s will—that’s not... Such a rebellion is out of the question. As Bilaam said, even though Bilaam was the kelipah of Bilaam. There is such a thing called the kelipah of Bilaam, which we get to in... If we’re making connections to Parshas Balak, look at what the kelipah of Bilaam is. We’re doing Purim; this works. So that kelipah was then clothed in a physical body, Bilaam’s body, and even though it was clothed in a physical body, Bilaam still said, “I cannot transgress the word of Hashem,” and so on, while he was prophesying. He was a prophet, after all. So when he was prophesying, even though he was clothed at the time in a

17:35 Speaker 2 physical, material body, he felt that he could not transgress Hashem’s word. So much so that he said it. Whether he was embarrassed or not, he said it publicly. People heard it and wrote it down. And although it’s called idolatry, “they call Him the G-d of gods.” Fine, yes, I’m idolatry, I feel myself to be an independent entity, but I know that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is greater than I am. And they cannot transgress His will at all, because they know and understand that He is their life and their very existence, which they draw from the “outermost aspect of the outermost aspect” of His will that encompasses them. They draw from the outermost aspect of the outermost aspect of His will that encompasses them. How can that be? If kelipah and sitra achra are idolatry, how can they feel that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the source of their life? If they actually feel that, how can they feel this way? They feel themselves to be entities. I... Is that a contradiction? It happens with every one of us when we eat. We eat because we’re hungry; we drink; we breathe air. We know that without these things, we couldn’t live. So what? Because I eat, and food keeps me alive, do I therefore become subservient to food? What does one thing have to do with the other? Because I’m eating Bamba or popcorn now, or drinking coffee, do I have to submit to the coffee and do what the coffee tells me? So what if my life comes from it? I feel myself to be an independent, separate entity. I don’t feel myself... Right. So along those lines—and this is only an analogy—so it is with kelipah and sitra achra. They know, they feel, that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is the source of their life. But because of the concealment, the screen, the hiding, that doesn’t stop them from feeling themselves to be separate entities. And in feeling themselves to be separate entities, that is idolatry. And why is that? Because the sustenance and life-force within them

19:52 Speaker 2 are in a state of exile within them. What does exile mean? That they consider themselves divine. Right, He is the great Hakadosh Boruch Hu, the source of my life. I’m a smaller god. And that is a denial of His oneness. So they deny His oneness; they don’t deny His existence. Idolatry doesn’t say that Hakadosh Boruch Hu doesn’t exist. It acknowledges Hakadosh Boruch Hu and even knows that He is the source—the source of its life. But it denies His oneness. He isn’t one; I’m something too. Nevertheless, they do not utterly deny or disavow Hashem and say, “He is not.” They don’t say that. Rather, “they call Him the G-d of gods.” He’s a great G-d, and I’m a little one. Their life and existence flow down to them from the will of Hashem, blessed be He, and therefore they never transgress the will of Hashem, blessed be He. So what is this whole lengthy discussion meant to tell us? That the sitra achra is less bad than a person. Why? Because it knows its Master and never rebels against Him. To the point that we say: G-d forbid that the sitra achra should act against Hashem’s will. Such a thing is impossible for it. If so, a person who transgresses the will of Hashem, may He be blessed, is far, far worse and lower than the sitra achra and kelipah in their aspect as idolatry and other gods. He—the person committing a transgression—is more utterly separated from the unity and oneness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu than they are. It is as though he denies His oneness even more than they do, G-d forbid. As it says in Eitz Chaim, Gate 42, at the end of chapter 4—Eitz Chaim is from the Arizal—it says there that the evil in this material world is the dregs of the coarse kelipos, and so on, and is the very end of the refinement process, and so on. There are two analogies in Chassidus. What is refinement? How do you refine something? To refine means to take—to remove the waste and leave only what’s clean. So one analogy they give is from silver and gold. How

22:23 Speaker 2 What do they mainly refine—silver? Not so much gold; that’s less relevant. Gold is found in the ground in lumps of gold—small grains, but lumps. It doesn’t mix with other things. But silver... little by little, it blackens and joins with everything around it. So to extract it, you have earth that contains silver, but it’s all together. How do you separate it? There are two methods. One method is to heat it at first to a very, very, very high temperature, and then the silver melts. Earth doesn’t melt—it’s earth—but silver melts and separates. What remains, the waste and the dross, stays to the side. Then you take the silver that came out. Fine, that silver really is silver. It isn’t earth, but it still has impurities, dross, waste mixed into it. You heat it a little less, and cleaner silver comes out, while a little less comes out to the side. Each time you heat it less and less and less, and less and less and less comes out, until in the end the silver remains clean, clean, clean—pure silver, and pure waste. There’s also the opposite method: instead of heating it less and less each time, you start from below, and instead of removing the waste each time, you remove the silver each time, at each higher level of heat. There are two methods of refinement: what are you working on? Are you working to remove the waste, to remove the bad, or are you working to bring out the good, to find the good inside? So the refinement discussed here in Eitz Chaim means bringing out a little more good each time, and a little more good, and a little more and a little more and a little more. In the world of Atzilus, that’s the major refinement. That’s where the great bulk of the silver comes out. Then, in the world of Beriah, a little more silver comes out, a little more G-dliness, and the waste falls down to Yetzirah. Then there they clean and clean and clean, and the waste

24:37 Speaker 2 falls into the world of Asiyah. And then, at the very, very end, what is truly pure waste—the remnants of the coarse kelipos, as it’s called—is the final stage of the refinement. That is this world.

24:53 Speaker 8 How could there be waste in the world of Atzilus?

25:00 Speaker 2 It’s waste relative to—“waste” means dross. Relative to the essence of G-dliness, Atzilus is called something from nothing. It is indeed only G-dliness, but it’s a kind of concentration of G-dliness. Above—above the worlds, above Atzilus, you can’t speak of Chochmah. There’s no such thing as Chochmah there. There is infinite G-dliness. Here, from this point to this point, there is Chochmah. From here to here, Binah. From here to here, Daas. And this connects with that, is included in that, and influences that. When there’s a boundary, what does G-dliness with a boundary mean? G-dliness has no boundary. Atzilus is G-dliness, but G-dliness as it comes in a bounded form, so it’s already, it’s already not quite G-dliness itself. That’s why the wording refers to it as something from nothing. You can’t really call it waste—it’s still cleaner and cleaner—but it isn’t, it isn’t in its pure state.

26:03 Speaker 8 What does it mean when it says “clean”? What goes down below isn’t quite so unfit anymore.

26:07 Speaker 2 When you clean it, what goes down below is still very, very, very clean, but it’s no longer as clean as it is there. The waste of Atzilus is already, already only the waste. What descends, what descends on its own, is only the waste of Atzilus, and what descends from there follows the same pattern. We could explain this further, but that isn’t the subject of the chapter. We need to explain to the students—to the students—that this world is the final stage of refinement, the final stage. Meaning that after they’ve taken out every last bit of good they possibly can, somehow what remains is pure evil. That is our world. What does “pure evil” mean? It is utterly separate from G-dliness; you don’t feel anything at all. And because the whole reality of this world is the final stage of refinement, the remnants of the coarse kelipos, the deeds of this world are harsh and evil. How did I grab that parking space? What nerve! Why isn’t she standing to the side? What does he want from me? Can’t he see I need to get through here? Can’t he show a little consideration? This entire world, on the whole, is brazen chutzpah. The whole world—someone looks at one part of what’s around him. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t grasp it. People’s behavior is sometimes incomprehensible. The hatred, the jealousy, the desire, the pursuit of honor, the lack of consideration, even judgments taken to the extreme. It’s, it’s, it’s incomprehensible, incomprehensible. It’s simply incomprehensible. You can’t understand it. Human reason, objective reason, would never allow such a thing to happen. “And the wicked prevail in it,” and so on. “Therefore our Sages said,” and so on. So what’s the conclusion? The conclusion is that when a person commits a sin, he is worse than the sitra achra, because it cannot rebel outright. Because we live in such a world, we don’t feel

28:21 Speaker 2 G-dliness at all, and because we are clothed in a physical body, we can act against Hashem’s will and be worse than the sitra achra. And therefore our Sages said about the verse, “If his wife goes astray”: “A person does not commit a sin,” and so on. Even an adulterous woman, whose understanding is weak—why does she commit adultery? Because her understanding is weak—would have mastered the spirit of her desire were it not for the spirit of folly within her, which covers, conceals, and obscures the hidden love in her G-dly soul. Now he explains. What does that mean? The hidden love in her G-dly soul, and its longing, through faith in Hashem and His unity, not to be separated, G-d forbid, from His oneness—that would indeed reveal itself in her. Even if they took her life. This very woman who is now committing the most severe sins in the Torah—we can see in this same woman, we have proof, that her understanding is weak. Everyone sees and knows it about her: that’s her, her understanding is weak. They know her. But let’s see what actually happens if they put her up against a wall and demand that she convert: she would indeed be willing to give her life. That same woman—I know her understanding is weak—but she would be willing to give her life. What’s happening here? What is going on inside her? Even if they took her life to make her worship an idol, G-d forbid—even if all they asked was that she bow down: just bow down, don’t actually convert, only bow down outwardly—she wouldn’t do even that. With no belief in your heart at all. All the more so, then, she ought to be able to overcome her yetzer and the desire of her soul if she’s prepared to die al kiddush Hashem. Not always, but such a thing can happen. So why, when it comes to the desire for adultery, why can’t she simply do that? What’s the difference? All the more so should she overcome the yetzer and desire for adultery, which involve suffering far lighter than death, may Hashem protect us. She ought to have mastered herself. So what really is the difference? The difference for her between the test of adultery and the test of bowing to

30:31 Speaker 2 an idol—she’s prepared to do one, but not the other. She knows it’s a sin. So why does she do it? It, too, is a spirit of folly from the kelipah. Folly means... folly is half a lie; it isn’t true. In other words, the Rebbe also begins to explain here that this is really the point he starts explaining: there is actually no difference between idol worship and other sins. Until now, he said it. He said it, but he didn’t explain it. He told us several times, again and again and again, from several angles, that a person who commits idol wor—ah, any of the sins—is as bad and as separated from G-dliness as someone who worships idols. It’s like idol worship itself, and even worse than idol worship itself. Why? Where are you getting that from? So he begins explaining it through this woman. We see that for this woman, in her own feelings, there’s a difference between idol worship and adultery and the other sins. Where does that come from for her? If there’s no difference, why does she feel there is one? That feeling she has, as though there were a difference, comes from a spirit of folly, from the concealment of this world. He explains it very nicely in the text: “The distinction she makes between the prohibition against adultery and the prohibition against bowing to an idol is also a spirit of folly from kelipah, which clothes the G-dly soul up to its faculty of Chochmah”—and “up to” means up to but not including—“because of the light of Hashem clothed in Chochmah, as explained above.” We need to study this distinction between “up to and including” and “up to but not including.” Yes. Okay. Every morning in our Chabad shul, there’s an argument. Every morning there’s, uh, an argument. At the end of davening, they say Tehillim. Right. So some people say, uh, today we say Tehillim up to chapter 24, not including 25.

32:45 Speaker 9 Up to 24 or up to 25?

32:47 Speaker 2 Up to and including, not up to but not including. Do you have to say that chapter or don’t you? “Up to”—up to this point but not this, or this as well? It’s been an argument, uh, every morning for years now. It’s already, it’s already becoming...

33:01 Speaker 9 It’s already coming, sorry.

33:03 Speaker 2 What?

33:03 Speaker 9 Coming, sorry.

33:04 Speaker 2 Yes, yes, yes. Alive and well. So that’s what’s called “up to and including.” The—the spirit—what’s the difference with that woman who commits adultery? We’ve already said this in a few places. We saw in chapter 19 that he explains there that a spirit of folly can cover the G-dly soul: its faculties, its essence, its aspect of chochmah. The spirit of folly cannot reach that point. It can cover the soul’s faculties, its expression, how it appears, its form, its presence. But the spirit of folly cannot cover the very existence of the G-dly soul. All those other aspects are only expressions of it, and there the spirit of folly can conceal things. That woman, or any person, may not feel that this is like idolatry. Once it reaches the point that the spirit of folly cannot conceal, they feel the difference. In other words—the truth is—actually, what I want to say is this: there is no difference. There really is no difference. There really is no difference. When a person commits a transgression, he is separated from G-dliness exactly as he is through idolatry. So there’s no difference at all. The difference is whether he feels it or not. That’s the difference. The difference is in the feeling: with another transgression, I don’t feel that I’m separated, whereas with idolatry I do feel it, so here I’m quite content with myself, and here I don’t feel that I need to give up my life. But in reality there is no difference. And this feeling I have, as though there were a difference—where does it come from? From the kelipos, and the kelipos are falsehood. There is no difference. But in absolute truth, even a minor transgression—

35:16 Speaker 2 the one who commits it transgresses the will of the Supreme One, blessed be He. Hakadosh Boruch Hu said one thing, and he did something else. He transgressed Hashem’s will just as he would through idolatry. What difference does it make if Hakadosh Boruch Hu said not to worship idols or said not to—well, I don’t know what? It’s the same Hakadosh Boruch Hu and the same command. It’s the same thing. He is separated in exactly the same way, and is utterly severed from His unity and oneness, blessed be He—more so than the sitra achra and kelipah called “other gods” and actual idolatry, and more than all the things that derive from it in this world: impure animals, beasts and birds, and creeping and crawling creatures. As the saying goes, “The mosquito preceded you.” Meaning that even the mosquito, which takes in and does not give out—the lowest kelipah, furthest removed from holiness, which gives forth at the furthest remove—precedes the sinner in the chain of descent of vitality from the will of the Supreme One, blessed be He. That sentence relates more to Igeres Hakodesh. When does a person give? There’s also someone like this who’s remarkable: he gives. Why does he give? He has money, so he gives. Let’s see you give when you don’t have any.

36:35 Speaker 10 Quite a lot of money.

36:37 Speaker 2 What?

36:37 Speaker 10 Yes.

36:38 Speaker 2 What are you saying?

36:39 Speaker 10 Quite a lot of money—how does he give it?

36:41 Speaker 2 Did what?

36:44 Speaker 10 Someone’s asking me about some [unclear].

36:45 Speaker 2 As it says in Igeres Hakodesh, which we learned last week in Tanya, Avraham Avinu—this is the proof that G-dly strength was in his heart—paid off his debts on the way back from Egypt. Why did he do that? He very much wanted to give tzedakah, but he had nothing to give. So what did he do? He ran up large debts. How could he give tzedakah if he had nothing? So that’s what he did.

37:18 Speaker 11 I have a story I really like to tell in this connection. If you’ve already heard the story, bear with me; you may have heard it before. That’s all right. Back when...

37:30 Speaker 2 After the carpet story? The one about the Sadef [?] family?

37:35 Speaker 11 No. When we were living—there was a couple in Kfar Chabad, Tuvya and Rivka Peretz, who took us under their wing. We were—I was a kibbutznik with no livelihood. I was doing my regular army service. We got eighty shekels a month—eighty liras a month—and my wife was in the middle of her studies at the seminary and wasn’t working. My parents were on the kibbutz, so we weren’t getting anything from them—not for the wedding, not after it and not before it. Her mother was an elderly woman with dementia; her father had disappeared somewhere, and she hardly knew him. In short, we had no money, no savings and no jobs. She was still studying, and I was in the army. In short, we had no money to live on, no money to get married, and no prospect of having money for the holiday either. Nothing.

38:29 Speaker 10 Were they at the wedding?

38:30 Speaker 11 What?

38:30 Speaker 10 Did they come to the wedding? Did the parents—

38:33 Speaker 11 They did come to the kibbutz. We had wanted to hold the wedding on Kibbutz [unclear], where there wouldn’t be any expenses. Yes, there was quite a story. In short, a week and a half before the wedding, the kibbutz changed its mind and threw us out. That was after we’d already printed and handed out the invitations. It’s a long story with lots of funny details. It’s funny today; it wasn’t so funny then. Then my wife happened to meet that woman, Rivka Peretz, who took a liking to her and simply took us under her wing. She rented us the hall in Kfar Chabad, which at the time was a beis midrash, not a church. But in any event, you have to put on a wedding meal, have guests and so on, right? So she bought everything, including an orchestra—musicians and singers. Now, the couple also needs somewhere to live afterward, right? She arranged a home for us for about fifty liras a year and paid for the first six months. And there needed to be some furniture in the house too—a bed, a chair, something, at least. She bought us furniture. In the end, after the wedding, we didn’t have many gifts left, but still, it was a wedding: people brought a little something here and there. We hadn’t had any wedding expenses at all, so afterward, with what was left of the wedding gift money, we traveled to the Rebbe. It covered the expenses. And that couple continued to help us afterward. We’d been in Kfar Chabad for about two years, and over time we became very close to them as well. She remained very close to me to this day. One day—one of the stories from that period was something she, his wife, told Ilana about her husband. He was [unclear], you know? A type of Jew very familiar in Chabad. He had money—not a millionaire, far from it, but he had money, and he—

41:06 Speaker 11 was very connected to the Rebbe. He also studied Tanya in shul and was very deeply connected emotionally. He would travel to the Rebbe for every Shabbos Mevorchim. For the festivals, certainly; I’m not even talking about the festivals. He traveled for all of them. Perhaps he stayed home two or three times, I’m not sure. But for every special day on the chassidic calendar, he was very particular about it. Whenever there was such a day in the middle, at the beginning or at the end of the month, he would travel. Besides that, he was always ready to go: whenever something came up, he would travel to the Rebbe.

41:42 Speaker 12 Was he living in Chabad, New York?

41:45 Speaker 11 He traveled a lot—two or three times a month. Yes. Each time he would travel to the Rebbe for a day, for a few hours: go, come back, go, come back, all the time. There were quite a few occasions when the Rebbe spoke about it publicly at a farbrengen, and on special occasions too. It’s even recorded in Toras Menachem: there’s a Jew here who has just come back, who has come several times recently, and soon... A Jew connected heart and soul. In short, on one of those occasions when he came back—but what was the household arrangement? I don’t know. Back then it was like this: his wife was at home. She didn’t work, couldn’t manage to work; she was a homemaker looking after the children. They had several children, and he supported the family. And because one needs to give a lot of money to tzedakah—and it says in the [unclear] we learned this week that a person has to approach things in precisely the opposite way: if holiness means that a person regards himself as nothing, then he doesn’t need anything for himself. He should give everything away. What do you need for yourself? Is your life more important than someone else’s? Why do you need food and all these things while someone else needs them? You need to dress nicely—why shouldn’t it be the other way around? For example, if I have money, I’ll give it to him so he can dress nicely, and I’ll dress less nicely. Why should I have more than someone else? What’s the idea behind that? He really felt that way and lived that way. So he gave his wife a household budget, a monthly budget. I don’t remember the amount, but it was enough—more than enough—for the household’s needs, and everything else went to tzedakah. Tzedakah in the literal sense. One day, this Jew came back from the Rebbe, walked into the house and saw a new carpet. Right away: “What’s this carpet? Do we have money to spare?” He’s thinking, “I’ve saved a little, and apparently...” I

43:59 Speaker 11 He gives too much. He cut the budget. He has money for tzedakah. I know this Jew personally. This isn’t a story, one of those stories. I know him. He lives—before you even get to the organizations, the nursing and medical [unclear], they’re in touch with him, more or less, once a week or two. So kedushah means: I am nothing. I am not an entity in my own right. If I am not an entity, then all there is to do is give to someone else. Kedushah means giving; kedushah is bittul. Bittul means I need nothing for myself; everything I do is for someone else. So what is the opposite of kedushah?

44:53 Speaker 13 Why not—then I won’t have anything either.

44:57 Speaker 11 It doesn’t fit into ordinary ways of thinking. It doesn’t sink in for him. He doesn’t feel it. He really—forget it. I’m not talking about an individual’s personal kedushah right now, okay? Kedushah means that a person feels bittul. What is bittul? Bittul means that he genuinely gives things up. Not that he understands he ought to give things up. He genuinely feels that he isn’t entitled to them.

45:21 Speaker 13 He really doesn’t feel entitled like that.

45:23 Speaker 11 He genuinely feels that way. This is relevant to every one of us. That is called kedushah. So, what is the opposite of kedushah? The more a person feels his own self—“I’m missing this, and I don’t have that, and I want to get this and this and this”—the more he is filled with wants, desires, and cravings, whatever you want to call them, the further he is from kedushah. So what is the ultimate expression of kelipah, the opposite of kedushah? A mosquito. Why a mosquito? A mosquito is what the Gemara calls a creature that takes in but doesn’t give out. It eats and eats and eats and eats until it dies. “I won’t give anything out.”

46:10 Speaker 13 I said I have a mosquito in my head.

46:12 Speaker 11 Huh? I don’t know whether it looks like a mosquito to you or not. Maybe it does. A mosquito—I don’t know which creature we’re talking about. I really don’t. The point is that the mosquito is a kind of creature that gives nothing out. Everything is for me. But a person who commits a transgression is even more—“And the mosquito preceded you. Even the mosquito, which takes in and does not give out—the lowest kelipah, and the one furthest from the aspect of kedushah, which gives to the utmost extent—precedes the sinner in the chain of descent of vitality from Hashem’s supreme will. How much more so the other non-kosher animals.” So the other animals may be non-kosher, but they are less so than the mosquito. At least they give something out; they give something, they raise their young. “For none of them changes its role or Hashem’s command. And although it does not see, its mazal sees.” Yes, that lion that doesn’t deviate from its role in the world, or a mouse—it doesn’t act that way because it recognizes the greatness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It doesn’t know Hakadosh Boruch Hu. You understand that in an animal, right? But although it doesn’t see, it has a spiritual element that gives it life. It isn’t a neshamah, but the force that gives it life does sense kedushah. As it says, “The fear and dread of you shall be upon every beast of the earth.” And our Sages explained that a wild animal has no power over a person unless he appears to it like an animal. But tzaddikim, from whose faces the image of G-d does not depart—all wild animals submit before them. Not only—as it says in the Zohar about Daniel in the lions’ den—not only did the lions there not harm him, they also submitted to him. If so, someone who sins and transgresses the Creator’s command, even with a minor transgression, at the moment he does it

48:23 Speaker 11 is utterly distant from the supreme kedushah, which is Hashem’s unity and will—more so than all the non-kosher animals, vermin, and creeping creatures that receive their vitality from the sitra achra, and even more than the kelipah of idol worship. Anyone who studied the chapter up to this point should have had a question. The Torah does make a distinction, doesn’t it? In fact, everything we’ve seen so far is about the distinction between idol worship and other transgressions, right? Idol worship—sorry. The Alter Rebbe is saying that there is no distinction between idol worship and other transgressions: every transgression a person commits—idol worship, forbidden relations, murder, severe transgressions, minor transgressions—separates him from Hakadosh Boruch Hu to exactly the same degree. That’s what he has said up to now. But the Torah says otherwise. The Torah says that for idol worship, or for the three transgressions, one must be killed rather than transgress, while for other transgressions that isn’t the rule. Right? The Torah makes a distinction. Why do you say there’s no distinction? Okay? “As for the fact that saving a life overrides other transgressions except idol worship,” and that they also said one should transgress rather than be killed—that rule has only three exceptions: idol worship and two others. So you can see that the Torah distinguishes between idol worship and other transgressions. Why do you say there’s no difference? “This accords with our Sages’ explanation: The Torah said, ‘Desecrate one Shabbos for his sake so that he may observe many Shabbosos’—not because of the relative leniency or severity of the transgressions.” Whoa, whoa, that’s a major point. For the Alter Rebbe to state here that, in truth, there really is no difference. When the Torah said to be killed rather than transgress, that wasn’t because idol worship is more severe. No. Idol worship and, I don’t know, a rabbinic Shabbos prohibition, carrying beyond the Shabbos boundary—they’re equally severe, the same thing. There’s no difference. Why did the Torah say one must be killed rather than do this, while for that the Torah

50:56 Speaker 11 didn’t say one must be killed rather than transgress? Not because one is more severe. No, they’re equally severe. Because here, if he desecrates Shabbos, he’ll be able to go on observing mitzvos afterward. That’s the reason, as it says. It isn’t because one is more severe. In terms of severity, they’re the same. A distinction. You can’t say something like that, can you? So that’s why there’s a passage in parentheses here. When the Alter Rebbe has an explanation for a question, he includes it in Tanya, often in parentheses, as he does here. So he adds a few lines to prove what he’s saying. Listen to this. “Shabbos is severe and is equivalent to idol worship regarding the slaughter performed by someone who has abandoned the observance of one mitzvah, as stated in Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah, section 2. This is not the case for someone who has abandoned the prohibition of forbidden relations.” End of quote. What did he say? There’s such a thing as someone who has abandoned the observance of one mitzvah. A Jew keeps mitzvos, but has decided that one mitzvah isn’t for him.

52:16 Speaker 11 One mitzvah bothers him: “I don’t keep Shabbos; I don’t feel like it. All the other mitzvos are fine. This one is hard for me; leave it to the next generation. All the other mitzvos are fine. Tefillin? I work hard; I don’t have time for that.” He is called someone who has abandoned the observance of one mitzvah. He keeps all the mitzvos except one. So the Gemara says that although he keeps all the other mitzvos, if there is one mitzvah he refuses to keep, his shechitah is prohibited. You may not eat meat from his shechitah. Now, he performs shechitah; he’s an expert shochet, he knows the laws, everything is fine. But he has abandoned one mitzvah that he refuses to keep, and you may not eat from his shechitah. Okay? When does this apply? If he has abandoned Shabbos—he’s decided not to keep Shabbos—his shechitah is prohibited. Right? But if he has abandoned the prohibition of forbidden relations—he keeps all the Torah’s mitzvos, but when it comes to forbidden relations, he doesn’t hold back. He has no problem with that.

53:33 Speaker 3 So in that case it is permitted?

53:34 Speaker 11 You may eat from his shechitah. That’s the halachah. So which is more severe? Shabbos is much more severe, right? Because when it comes to Shabbos, we say that since he has abandoned it, you may not eat from his shechitah. Forbidden relations are among the transgressions for which one must be killed rather than transgress, but if he has abandoned that prohibition, you may eat from his shechitah. So which is more severe? Shabbos is more severe than forbidden relations, right?

53:58 Speaker 3 The shochet is a little more G-d-fearing.

53:59 Speaker 11 Everything is fine according to halachah. So it follows from this—

54:04 Speaker 3 That one may eat, eat more, or eat less. There’s a difference between them.

54:10 Speaker 11 If the shochet has abandoned the prohibition of forbidden relations, you may eat from his shechitah. Shulchan Aruch, Yoreh De’ah. If he has abandoned Shabbos, you may not eat from his shechitah. Which is more severe? Shabbos is more severe than forbidden relations, right? That’s what follows. The Alter Rebbe continues: “Nevertheless, saving a life overrides Shabbos but not the prohibition of forbidden relations.” Someone is told, “Either you desecrate Shabbos or we’ll kill you.” What do we tell him? Saving a life overrides Shabbos, right?

54:47 Speaker 3 Depends whom you slaughter.

54:49 Speaker 11 But if someone is told, “Listen, either you engage in forbidden relations now or we’ll kill you,” what do we say? He must die. So which is more severe? Forbidden relations are more severe, right? But just a moment ago we proved that Shabbos is more severe than forbidden relations. So how do those fit together? From this, the Alter Rebbe proves that which transgressions are overridden to save a life has nothing to do with their severity. Rather, it is a decree of Scripture.

55:27 Speaker 3 After all, there is a difference between—

55:29 Speaker 11 In terms of severity, there is no difference at all between any of the transgressions, minor or major, including idol worship and even rabbinic prohibitions. If you judge by the punishment and by the laws, there are differences. But those differences in the laws are not connected to how severe the act is in this sense.

55:52 Speaker 3 All right, but what does that have to do with a mitzvah like that?

55:54 Speaker 11 What?

55:55 Speaker 3 No, that’s what you said—as though you know the level of a mitzvah you don’t know about.

56:00 Speaker 11 In terms of severity, what does a transgression do to the soul? It cuts a person off, distances him from Hashem, turns him into a beast—just like idol worship. There is no difference between the most severe transgression and the lightest one. No difference. The difference is only in how we feel, and that feeling is a spirit of folly. The Torah does say there is a difference, but that is a decree of Scripture; it is not about one being more or less severe in this respect. All right?

56:28 Speaker 3 But things like that.

56:30 Speaker 11 Hmm?

56:30 Speaker 3 There is something behind a decree of Scripture.

56:33 Speaker 11 No. It’s called a decree because there’s no explanation for it.

56:39 Speaker 3 No, no, no, these aren’t arbitrary things. Sometimes they say that if you have to undergo something in the World to Come, but murder is the lightest, then that...

56:46 Speaker 11 Yes.

56:47 Speaker 3 So that shows there’s a difference between them.

56:50 Speaker 11 There is a difference in the laws, but the difference in the laws is not because of severity.

56:54 Speaker 3 If so, the Gemara says there’s a difference in [unclear], and what do we do with that?

56:59 Speaker 11 In what?

56:59 Speaker 3 In [unclear] there’s a difference, uh, in [unclear] there’s a difference, uh, there’s a difference between them.

57:07 Speaker 11 So there already is a difference between the...

57:09 Speaker 3 In their severity. I mean, no—there is also a difference in the halachah. There’s also, as it were, a greater desire for the more weighty, greater mitzvos.

57:19 Speaker 11 There is a difference regarding—we’ll see in a moment that there’s a difference regarding the damage it does to the soul. And there is also a difference in the laws. It doesn’t damage one particular part but... The Gemara makes a distinction, but that distinction has no bearing on severity, on the separation...

57:44 Speaker 3 Okay, fine, but there is a difference between the two.

57:46 Speaker 11 The difference matters here for the law and for what the act does. But there is no difference in severity in this respect: it separates a person. This separates a person, and that defiles him. A transgression—aveirah—comes from the word “to cross over.” Why was Avraham our father called Avraham HaIvri? Do you know?

58:08 Speaker 3 No.

58:08 Speaker 11 It’s something else. The whole world was on one side, and he was on the other. With an aveirah, a person crosses himself over to the side of the kelipos, to the side of the sitra achra. There’s no... This is a transgression and that’s a transgression. Here he crosses over, and there he crosses over. And this is where it explains what you touched on a little: where is there nevertheless a difference? After the act itself, there can be a difference. Transgressions that do not carry kareis or death at the hands of Heaven do not cause the G-dly soul to die completely or to be cut off from its source in the living G-d. Rather, in those transgressions its attachment to and hold on its source are somewhat damaged. This reminds us of what it says in Igeres Hateshuvah: “Yaakov is the rope of His inheritance.” The rope of the soul is woven from 613 strands. When a person commits a transgression, he severs one of those strands, and that weakens the soul as a whole. All right? That is while he is committing the transgression. Now he has finished. Once he has separated himself from the transgression and stopped doing it, if it is a transgression that did not sever the root of the soul but only damaged one part, the rest of the rope is still sufficient, and the soul can still return. If it is a transgression that damaged the entire rope, then it damaged the entire rope. That’s already a more complicated story.

59:53 Speaker 3 And what if someone has already become accustomed to a transgression?

59:55 Speaker 11 Huh?

59:56 Speaker 3 And what if someone has already given himself over to the transgression?

59:58 Speaker 11 Then it causes as much damage as one severe transgression, or more. We also saw that earlier, at the beginning... But while he is committing the transgression, there is no difference. The difference comes afterward. Afterward, his soul also... I’m skipping. I’m skipping the... You can read that on your own. “According to the degree and distinctions in the quantity and quality of the damage to the soul and its garments, so are the distinctions in the cleansing punishment in Gehinnom or in this world. For every sin and transgression there is a particular punishment to cleanse and remove its filth and damage. Likewise, those liable to death or kareis do not all cause equal damage.” So each person receives the punishment for his sin in order to repair it. Each transgression causes damage in a different way, and the punishments repair and cleanse in different ways too. But that’s straightforward. “For his vital, animal soul, which is clothed in his body, and his body as well, return and rise from the sitra achra...” [unclear] “for it believes in the one Hashem even at the time of the sin.” So the G-dly soul within the body—we’ve been talking all this time about the animal soul that committed the transgressions. Where was the G-dly soul during that time?

1:01:06 Speaker 4 In exile.

1:01:06 Speaker 11 Huh?

1:01:07 Speaker 4 In exile.

1:01:07 Speaker 11 In exile. It was there. And as we said, the G-dly soul did not have thoughts of sin while the animal soul was committing those transgressions. Rather, “it was in a state of actual exile within the animal soul of the sitra achra, which causes the body to sin and drags it down with it into the depths of the pit, lower and lower, beneath the impurity of the sitra achra and the kelipah of idol worship, may Hashem protect us. There is no greater exile than this—from a lofty roof...” From a high roof into a deep pit. Imagine taking a person and throwing him from a high roof into a deep well. Assuming he survives down there, he’s terribly frightened. It’s deep, narrow, dark and frightening, and the whole situation is dreadful. There are snakes and scorpions there—it’s awful. But does that mean he’s no longer a human being? He remains the same person. What he is has not fundamentally changed; he is the same person he was up above. The only question is: where is he now? He is in a deep pit. And that is the state of the G-dly soul. It remained the same G-dly soul; it did not change because it was taken and thrown into the transgression. But what is its situation there? It’s like a person thrown into a deep pit. “And as explained earlier, the root and source of the souls of the entire House of Israel is in supernal Chochmah”—that is a more specific point—“and He, blessed be He, and His wisdom are one,” and so on. When a person commits a transgression, it is “like someone who takes hold of a king’s head, lowers it, and buries his face in a latrine full of excrement. There is no greater insult than that.” Even if he says, “Listen, Your Majesty, I’m only putting your head there for a moment.” The king would give up all the wealth in the world rather than have that done to him for even one second.

1:02:58 Speaker 4 For them to turn his head like that.

1:03:00 Speaker 11 So at that moment—it doesn’t help to say that it was only for a moment and afterward he can go to the mikveh and do teshuvah. At that moment he is truly separated. “There is no greater insult than that, even if he does so only momentarily, for the kelipos and the sitra achra are called ‘vomit’ and ‘excrement,’ as is known.” So now we’ve finished the groundwork. We began in chapters 16 and 17 with the long path. The long path in serving Hashem is to contemplate Hashem’s greatness and thereby awaken love of Hashem. If I love Hashem, then naturally I won’t commit transgressions, and I’ll do only mitzvos. Then, at the beginning of chapter 18, he said that the path explained in the previous two chapters works for someone whose understanding is good: someone who has learned and has understanding and feeling, who can contemplate, understand and awaken the holy feelings in his heart. But what should someone with limited understanding do? He says: listen, I’ll explain how to awaken the natural, hidden love within you. You have a natural love. You can see that when you’re backed against the wall, it awakens. I’ll teach you how to awaken it so you can use it all the time. To understand how to use it, how to awaken that G-dly soul, he first explained the oneness of Hashem and idol worship. Then he explained that by fulfilling any mitzvah, a person becomes nullified to G-dliness and truly united with G-dliness, just as at a moment of sanctifying Hashem’s name. And with every transgression he commits, he becomes separated from G-dliness exactly as with idol worship. All that remains is to sum it up. There’s much more to this. I’ll do that in the next chapter, chapter 25. It sums up the last seven chapters: what do I need to contemplate, and how do I contemplate all of this? We’ll use the words

1:05:16 Speaker 11 we’ve learned so that, throughout the day, I can awaken that G-dly soul to keep me from evil and bring me to wholeness.

1:05:45 Speaker 5 You had the privilege of hearing the voice of [unclear]. Take the page they wrote.

1:05:57 Speaker 11 Yes.