Likkutei Amarim Chapter 35 · 5781

00:02 Speaker 1 Yes.

00:04 Speaker 2 All right, good evening. We’ll begin. We’re starting chapter 35. Chapter 35 is... we spoke about this a little last week. It begins the second part of Tanya. Although Tanya isn’t divided into parts, in terms of its content, from here to the end it deals with a different subject from what we’ve discussed until now. To understand that, let’s say a few words by way of introduction. What, essentially, was the point the Alter Rebbe explained from the beginning until here? Right at the beginning, on the title page... What is it?

01:20 Speaker 1 No, I’m just...

01:23 Speaker 2 Ah. Right at the beginning, on the title page, the Alter Rebbe said that he bases all of avodas Hashem, all of Tanya, on the verse in the Torah: “For the matter is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.” What’s the question? What needs so much explanation? The question is very understandable. Doing what the Torah requires—I can act. Speaking—I can speak, I can think. But loving Hakadosh Boruch Hu—is it very close to every person to love Him? What? How is that very close? He says he will explain thoroughly how it is very close. That was the question the Alter Rebbe came to answer in Tanya: how is it very close to each and every person to love Hakadosh Boruch Hu? That’s what he asked. What was the explanation? Throughout the thirty-four chapters we’ve learned, he really explained just one thing: how it is very close. The Alter Rebbe says: True, you won’t be a tzaddik. You weren’t born a tzaddik, you’re not a tzaddik now, and you can’t become a tzaddik either. Well, perhaps, and so on—if only. Becoming a tzaddik isn’t something that happens in the ordinary course of things. It’s something exceptional. A few people merit it. A tzaddik has love of Hashem. So how does the Torah say it is very close for everyone to have love of Hashem? Not everyone is a tzaddik. Over thirty-four chapters, the Alter Rebbe explained what kind of love of Hashem the verse is talking about: the kind of love that will cause you to keep mitzvos. That is what it’s talking about. That is very close. It is not very close for everyone to have a love burning in their heart day and night, to be interested only in that, thinking about it, with their feelings cleaving to G-dliness. No, that’s not what it means. What kind of love is very close for everyone? A love that brings a person to actually keep mitzvos.

03:32 Speaker 2 That was the answer. He divided that itself into two parts. There is a kind of love awakened through intellectual contemplation, and there is also the hidden love in the heart, which you don’t need to create or bring into being. Rather, you contemplate things that awaken the love, and that love, which is already there within you, comes from potential into actuality. But the aim of both kinds—the love brought about through intellectual contemplation and the love that is merely revealed—is the same. You’re not being asked to be a tzaddik here. No one is looking for you to spend all day burning with a love like flames of fire, a love like water, or I don’t know what, for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. You need to awaken in your heart, in one way or another, each person according to their circumstances, as we’ve seen, a love that will bring you to keep the mitzvos in practice. If you love Hakadosh Boruch Hu and your love is strong enough that you say, “How could I commit a sin?” If your awe is strong enough that you say, “How could I commit a sin?”—you have the kind of love and awe that keep you from transgressing and bring you to keep mitzvos. That is what is required. That is very close. Everyone can do that. You don’t have to be a tzaddik for that. You don’t need special talent. You don’t need a special upbringing. Every Jewish man and woman has the ability to be a beinoni. That’s the beinoni of Tanya: someone who can... who controls their feelings, who always keeps mitzvos. What kind of answer is that? Do you still remember the question? What kind of answer is that? We asked how three things can be close to you: “in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.” What was the answer? That the love being asked of you is a love that leads to action. That

05:48 Speaker 2 was the answer. In other words, what has the Alter Rebbe actually explained up to this point? That “to do it” in the verse answers the question about “in your heart.” He hasn’t explained how we serve Hashem through action. How can you love Hakadosh Boruch Hu? The love asked of you is one that leads to “doing it.” So in what we’ve seen from chapter 1 through chapter 34, “to do it” is only an answer to what kind of love is being asked of you. He hasn’t really explained what “to do it” means. He has explained what it means to have a love that leads to “doing it.” But what is the “doing it”? We haven’t discussed that. Right? So the Alter Rebbe begins chapter 35: “And now, to further explain the word ‘to do it.’” From here to the end of Tanya, we begin a much deeper discussion than in the first part. We’re not talking about love of Hashem, but about serving Hashem through action. The first three chapters—35, 36, and 37—the first three chapters of the second part discuss the distinctive quality of serving Hashem through action: what its quality and importance are. We’re not yet talking about how to do it, what it includes, and the many, many details that will be discussed later. The first three chapters—and this is the first of them—discuss the distinctive quality of serving Hashem through action. Let’s start looking at the text. Chapter 35: “And now, to further explain the word ‘to do it,’ and also to understand at least a little of the purpose for which the beinonim were created and their souls descended to this world to be clothed in an animal soul from kelipah and sitra achra.” What good is that? “Since they will not be able to banish it all their days”—that’s what we saw in the first part, in chapter 27 and elsewhere: a beinoni cannot drive away the evil. He can push it aside temporarily, suppress it, but he cannot eradicate the evil or transform it into good. “Since they will not be able to banish it all their days and dislodge it from its place in the left chamber of the heart, so that thoughts from it will not rise to the mind.”

08:23 Speaker 2 Perhaps during davening, when he contemplates what he has learned in Chassidus, and then during davening itself he contemplates and thinks about the greatness of Hashem—at that point, love of Hashem burns within him. When he’s learning a Tanya class, love of Hashem burns within him. But afterward, when he looks at the world, it... it goes back to how it was before. And he cannot prevent thoughts from the animal soul from rising to his mind. For the essential nature of the animal soul from kelipah remains, in the beinonim, as forceful and strong as it was by birth. Even a beinoni at the very height of perfection—and we saw in chapter 13 that there are higher and higher levels of this, up to the loftiest levels discussed there—even such a beinoni, who appears to be a complete tzaddik at every moment throughout his life: his animal soul has not only not been transformed into good; it remains in its place, with all its force and strength. More than that, it has grown stronger all the time. After all, he eats and drinks. Eating and drinking are physical activities of this world. They don’t—eating and drinking don’t strengthen the G-dly soul. They strengthen the animal soul. Once the animal soul has been transformed into good and there is no evil in it, then they strengthen the good. But in a beinoni, his animal soul is an animal soul, whose whole concern is keeping the body alive. And even when the G-dly soul acts on him from time to time, knocks it down, awakens love of Hashem, and bends it into submission, it submits. But the moment a person stops thinking about G-dliness and starts thinking about other things—he could even go on thinking about Torah matters. He learns Torah, learns halachah, learns—I don’t know—learns Torah, Midrash. He isn’t thinking about Hakadosh Boruch Hu. At that moment, the animal soul raises its head. That very moment. The very second he stops thinking about Hakadosh Boruch Hu, if it... it’s there. If

10:45 Speaker 2 They don’t push her out; they don’t stand over her with a hammer all the time. She’s there. It’s just that her garments do not become invested in the body of a beinoni, as we learned in chapter 12. The G-dly soul succeeds in pushing her out of action, so that he doesn’t commit sins, and even out of thought, so that he doesn’t think bad things. And from the heart it manages to— and from speech it manages to push her out. But inside, in the heart, she’s there. She hasn’t moved. So if beinonim cannot transform the evil within them into good, if they were born that way from the outset and Hakadosh Boruch Hu said, “You won’t be able to do it,” then what is their task? To spend their entire lives fighting thoughts that come from the yetzer hara. Well, that doesn’t sound good. You tell a person: “Listen, your soul came down into this world so that your whole life you’ll fight the yetzer hara, while it keeps sending you thoughts and drawing you toward desires. And I’m telling you in advance that you can’t defeat it.” That’s a little discouraging. If so, why did their souls descend into this world—to toil in vain, G-d forbid, fighting the yetzer all their days without being able to overcome it? We touched on this in chapter 27, and mentioned chapter 36 then, but only briefly. Here he... In chapter 27, where the advice was about how to be joyful. Right. One moment; let me remind anyone for whom this isn’t quite clear. Chapters 26 through 28 gave advice on how a person who falls into sadness can avoid it. Chapter 27 discussed what causes a person to fall into sadness: thoughts and other bad things constantly passing through his mind, desires for physical things. The Alter Rebbe says there: Listen, the fact that desires for physical things come to you has several very lofty, very important aspects. And he

13:06 Speaker 2 lists three very lofty points there, one, two, three—to the point that he says the beinoni’s service of Hashem is loftier than that of tzaddikim. So he does make that point there, but only briefly. Here we’re going to get a full explanation. “And let this be their comfort, to console them doubly with wisdom and to gladden their hearts in Hashem, Who dwells with them in their Torah and their service. This will be preceded by the words of the Yenuka.” We’ve already mentioned the Yenuka, remember? We mentioned him in chapter 7. We spoke about him. Remember? Yes? The child who knew how to speak from the day he was born. So everything up to here was a short introduction. From here the Alter Rebbe begins explaining the words of the Yenuka, which he quotes in the next five or six lines. From here to the end of Tanya, the end of chapter 53, is an explanation of the Yenuka’s words. They are the basis for serving Hashem through observing the mitzvos. First, let’s look at the words of the Zohar itself. The Zohar expounds on the verse, “The wise man’s eyes are in his head.” The Zohar is a Midrash. “But where,” the Zohar asks, “are a person’s eyes?” King Solomon, the wisest of men, says in Koheles: Do you know where a wise man’s eyes are? In his head. Well, that’s a very, very wise saying from King Solomon! So the Zohar asks: Where else would his eyes be? Rather, the Zohar answers, what is King Solomon trying to tell us? “This is certainly what the verse means: For we learned, ‘A person should not walk four cubits with his head uncovered.’” Why? Is there a mitzvah to wear a kippah? No. “Why?”

15:59 Speaker 2 “Because the Shechinah rests upon his head.” The Shechinah rests on a person’s head all the time. “And every wise man has his eyes and his words in his head.” What does “in his head” mean? “In that which rests and abides above his head.” Who is above every Jew’s head? The Shechinah. The Shechinah rests above every Jew’s head all the time. Even if he isn’t doing a mitzvah, even if he commits a sin, he has a G-dly soul; the Shechinah is above his head all the time. So if a person’s eyes are in his head, he is thinking about the fact that the Shechinah is constantly above his head. How can you walk bareheaded? Show a little reverence. That is what the Zohar says. “And when his eyes are there”—when he directs his eyes there and reflects on the Shechinah’s constant presence above his head—“he should know that this light,” the light of the Shechinah, “which burns above his head, needs oil.” Oil—that’s what the word means. Can you keep a light burning without oil? A lamp without oil? The light of the Shechinah that rests above a person’s head is indeed there regardless; it is there as a matter of course. But for it to shine properly, it needs oil. Why? “Because a person’s body is the wick, and the light burns above it.” The light of the Shechinah takes hold in a person’s body. And just as a lamp does not burn without oil, the light of the Shechinah that rests upon the body needs oil. What is that oil? “King Solomon proclaimed: ‘Let oil not be lacking upon your head’”—your head, your head, I don’t remember. “For the light upon his head needs oil.” “Your head.” Thank you. What is that oil?

18:46 Speaker 2 “They are good deeds”—or, in our terms, mitzvos. “And therefore, ‘The wise man’s eyes are in his head.’” Those are the words of the holy Zohar. Now the Alter Rebbe explains: “The explanation of this analogy, which compares the light of the Shechinah to the light of a lamp that cannot shine or take hold of the wick without oil, is that likewise the Shechinah does not rest upon the person’s body, which is likened to a wick, except through good deeds specifically. His soul, though it is literally a part of G-d above, is not sufficient to serve as oil for the wick.” Here is the question: We understand that the light of the Shechinah needs oil. But why, asks the Alter Rebbe, do you say the oil is good deeds? Why not say that the oil is the soul? What is the difference? In physical terms, if you light a wick made of plain cotton, without any oil, first of all it doesn’t burn nicely. It’s an uneven sort of fire, and it’s over in no time. And when it’s done, ash remains. It doesn’t burn completely. Right? Oil—what?

20:31 Speaker 3 It’s not the same thing.

20:32 Speaker 2 What’s that?

20:33 Speaker 3 For wood as well as for a wick.

20:34 Speaker 2 For wood too, yes. We’re talking about a wick right now. We’ll see in a moment; it will soon be clear. Oil, it’s true, won’t burn on its own without a wick. Even if you throw fire into oil, it goes out. But when the oil is drawn through the wick, first of all it burns very nicely. It has a beautiful, steady, clean flame, and it burns completely; nothing is left of it. It burns all the way through.

21:02 Speaker 3 It burns for a long time.

21:03 Speaker 2 A long time, because there’s a lot of oil. Yes, also a long—

21:06 Speaker 3 Also compared to—

21:07 Speaker 2 Yes, yes. It burns steadily and nicely, and nothing remains. Why? Why is a wick like that, while oil is like this? The explanation is that a wick is made of a material not particularly suited to burning. It’s a coarser material. You can light it, fine, but it’s not the same: the flame doesn’t look good, it goes out quickly, and it doesn’t burn all the way through. It’s just not the same. Oil, by its nature, is suited to burning, so when it burns, it burns properly. Nothing remains; it burns completely. Based on this, the Alter Rebbe asks—so that’s the analogy. The Alter Rebbe explains: What does it represent? The Zohar says, who is the oil? The oil is the body. The Alter Rebbe asks, the body? What? Sorry, yes—the oil is the mitzvos. The Alter Rebbe asks: Why do we need the mitzvos to be the oil in order for the light of the Shechinah to shine for a person? A person has a soul. Can’t his soul be the oil? What is more suited to becoming absorbed and incorporated in the light of Hashem: mitzvos performed with physical things, or a person’s soul? If you asked me, “I need to take something here that will become completely nullified to Hashem’s light, so that the Shechinah can shine within it, through it and upon it, and it can be incorporated in Hashem’s light,” which would you choose? The shekel coin you give to tzedakah—a piece of, I don’t know, copper or some alloy; I don’t know what they make it from—or your soul? The answer is obvious: the soul. A soul is spiritual; it is G-dly. It has love of Hashem and awe of Hashem. Why can’t it be the oil? Why must the mitzvos be the oil? That is the Alter Rebbe’s question. To understand the explanation of the analogy, it is explained, and clear to every discerning person, as follows: For a person’s soul,

23:33 Speaker 2 So yes, even if we’re talking about a complete tzaddik, someone who serves Hashem with fear and with a love that takes delight in Him. Fine. But his soul is not completely nullified in its existence, so as to be nullified and absorbed into the light of Hashem itself, becoming one with it in complete unity. At the end of the day, even with a complete tzaddik, there is still a person here who is a tzaddik, a being in his own right, who fears Hashem and loves Him. The person is still here. He feels himself to exist. Even Moshe Rabbeinu, whose bittul we spoke about last week—or two weeks ago, last week—knows that he is Moshe Rabbeinu, and he thinks and feels. He loves Hashem, so he is separate. Not so with mitzvos and good deeds, which are His will, and His will is the source of life—they are His will. So there is an essential difference between a person and a mitzvah. The person is not Hashem’s will; he is a separate being. He can nullify himself before Hashem, but he still remains a being. With mitzvos, the entire existence of a mitzvah is Hashem’s will. There is nothing else there. Wait, wait, wait. If the entire existence of a mitzvah is Hashem’s will, does Hakadosh Boruch Hu want only mitzvos? Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted there to be worlds, heavens, fish, trees. So Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted the whole world. Well, then what? Why should mitzvos in particular be like oil for the wick? Just as mitzvos are Hashem’s will, the whole world is Hashem’s will. So now he comes to explain the difference between Hashem’s will as it is in mitzvos and Hashem’s will as it is in the rest of the world. His will is the source of life for all the worlds and all created beings. But how does Hashem’s will give life to all the worlds and created beings? It descends to them through many tzimtzumim, through concealment of the countenance of the blessed Supernal Will, and through a descent from level to level, until they can come into being and be created

25:53 Speaker 2 something from nothing, as separate things in their own right, without being nullified in their existence, as explained above—as he explained there in chapter 21, which we studied. Mitzvos, by contrast, are the inner dimension of His will, and there is no concealment of the countenance there at all. The life-force within them is not a separate thing in its own right at all; rather, it is united with and absorbed into His will, and they become truly one with it in complete unity. So there is an essential difference between the existence of physical things in the world and the existence of objects used for mitzvos. Everything that exists in the world was created by Hakadosh Boruch Hu through His will, by means of veiling, concealment, and tzimtzum, and those things truly are separate beings. But mitzvos, even after they have become physical things, contain no concealment of the countenance, no veiling. Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted there to be tzedakah. So this coin is Hashem’s will. There is nothing else here. The physical substance of the coin is Hashem’s will. The tefillin you hold in your hand—why are they holy? They are Hashem’s will. You take an esrog and hold it in your hand. You are holding Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself in your hand, His very essence. When I want something, I don’t say there’s me and there’s “wants.” The one who wants—that’s me; I’m the one who wants. If Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants there to be an esrog, then His wi—His will is Him. And if I’m holding the esrog in my hand now, I’m holding Him in my hand. That is something that exists only with mitzvos. So from the beginning of the chapter until here, the Rebbe has explained one point. What point has he explained so far? Based on the parable of the child in the holy Zohar, we want to understand: the child in the holy Zohar said that for the Shechinah to rest upon a person fully, there must be oil. What is the oil? The oil is mitzvos. Why mitzvos specifically, and not other physical things? Because the other physical things in the world—and spiritual things too, by the way—come through tzimtzumim and veiling

28:37 Speaker 2 and concealment, and they are separate things. Even a Jew, even a complete tzaddik—even a complete tzaddik who loves Hashem with love and fear and nullifies himself before Hakadosh Boruch Hu—is still limited, separate, and subject to tzimtzum. But mitzvos are His very essence and being. Therefore, mitzvos specifically, and only mitzvos, can be the oil that causes the light of the Shechinah to shine upon a person. That’s what he has explained so far. Now he begins a new subject. We’ll see that he is going to explain that within the performance of mitzvos themselves there are two kinds. From there he will arrive at a question, which he will explain at the end of the chapter. What are the two kinds within the performance of mitzvos? And here, in line thirteen: “The matter of the resting of the Shechinah...” He begins—what are we talking about? We’re talking about the Shechinah resting upon a person’s head. What does the resting of the Shechinah mean in the first place? “The resting of the Shechinah is the revelation of His G-dliness and of the light of the blessed Ein Sof.” In what thing? Whenever we say the Shechinah rests here, what—what—what happened here? “Wherever there are ten, the Shechinah rests.” Wherever there are ten Jews, the Shechinah rests. What happened here? There are ten Jews? They’re standing at a bus stop, waiting for the bus. There are thirty people there, most of them non-Jews, but there are ten Jews among them, and those ten Jews don’t even know about one another. The Shechinah rests there. What happened there that makes the Shechinah rest? The resting of the Shechinah is a revelation of G-dliness. There is a revelation of G-dliness there. It says that whoever reads and studies, Hakadosh Boruch Hu reads and studies opposite him; the Shechinah rests there. Wherever a Jew is found, the Shechinah rests. What is the resting of the Shechinah? It means a revelation of G-dliness. By the way, I don’t know—I don’t remember whether we spoke about this or not. There is a difference between something being revealed and its being perceived. Hakadosh Boruch Hu can be present openly,

31:15 Speaker 2 but I don’t see Him. Can that be? He is completely revealed, but I don’t see Him. How can that be? It’s like a person who is blind, G-d forbid. He is in a room, and there is light in the room. The light is completely revealed. It isn’t concealed at all. But that person doesn’t have the means to see it. The resting of the Shechinah means that Hakadosh Boruch Hu is now here openly. The fact that I don’t sense it is because I lack the means. Some people do have the means, and so they do see it. “The resting of the Shechinah is the revelation of His G-dliness and of the light of the blessed Ein Sof.” In what thing? That is to say, that thing is absorbed into the light of Hashem and completely nullified in its existence. It is then that the light of the one Hashem rests and is revealed within it. Where is the Shechinah revealed? In something that is completely nullified in its existence. But anything that is not completely nullified in its existence before Him—the light of Hashem does not rest or become revealed within it. And here there is a tremendous insight, at least for us. “Even a complete tzaddik who cleaves to Him”—to Hakadosh Boruch Hu—“with great love.” Great love—we haven’t really spoken about great love yet. Maybe we mentioned it a little here and there. Great love is a natural love, a hidden love, the love that is later called a Jew’s self-sacrifice. So even a complete tzaddik who cleaves to Hakadosh Boruch Hu with love, at the level of great love—“no thought can grasp Him at all,” in truth. What does that mean? A complete tzaddik who loves Hashem and serves Hashem with love and fear has no resting of the Shechinah at all. He doesn’t. You want to put it that way? He has the Shechinah resting upon him through good deeds; through the hidden love, through the capacity for self-sacrifice in his soul, he has some degree of the Shechinah resting upon him. But on account of love and fear, he has no resting of the Shechinah at all. Love and fear, love of Hashem and fear of

33:50 Speaker 2 Hashem—that’s everything we discussed in the entire first part of Tanya, from chapter 1 through chapter 34: that there must be love of Hashem, and there must be love of Hashem; that one must contemplate in this way, or contemplate in another way. And someone who has no love of Hashem cannot reach perfection in observing the mitzvos, and so on and so forth. But the Shechinah’s presence does not come from that. In one respect, apparently, it does. What? In terms of the—the— Every mitzvah has two aspects, two things. There is the particular aspect of that mitzvah, and there is the essential fact that it is a mitzvah, which it shares with all mitzvos. So in terms of its being a mitzvah, if it’s a mitzvah, it’s a mitzvah. But in terms of its particular nature, what is the essence of love of Hashem? The essence of love of Hashem—even a love entirely about wanting to cleave to Him, or even feeling that he is cleaving to Him—is “I feel that I am cleaving.” That is “I.” “I” is separate. In terms of observing the mitzvah, okay, you are observing a mitzvah; the Shechinah rests upon you, fine. But what brings about the Shechinah’s presence here? Not the content of the love, because the content of love means “I.” “I” is separate, separate. That is not where it comes from at all. Even a completely righteous tzaddik who serves Hashem with love and awe—the Shechinah’s presence does not come from that. Not from the love. From the mitzvah, yes; not from the love. “No thought can”— Why? Because “no thought can grasp Him at all,” in truth. Ultimately, however righteous or brilliant he may be, and so on, his intellect is limited and his feelings are limited. And Hakadosh Boruch Hu is unlimited, and something limited cannot grasp something unlimited. For the truth of “Hashem, G-d, is true” is His oneness and unity: He alone exists, and there is nothing besides Him. That cannot really be grasped. If so, the one who loves is a “something”; he has an existence, he is not nothing. “No thought can grasp Him.” His thought cannot grasp Hakadosh Boruch Hu at all.

36:25 Speaker 2 And Hashem’s light does not rest upon him and become revealed in him except through observing the mitzvos. Why? Because the mitzvos are His very will and wisdom, blessed be He, without any concealment whatsoever. So if a Jew wants the Shechinah to rest upon his head, the way to achieve that is solely through observing mitzvos. There is a note here, a gloss. This gloss is a fundamental point in Chassidus in general, and it appears countless times in the maamarim of all our Rebbeim, including the Rebbe’s maamarim. So many, many maamarim in which the Rebbe speaks about the Shechinah’s presence and says, “As written in the gloss in Tanya, chapter 35.” So we’ll read it. We won’t explain it too much; we’ll just read the main point. “As I heard from my teacher, of blessed memory”—the Alter Rebbe says he heard this from the Maggid of Mezritch—“the meaning and reason for what is written in Eitz Chayim.” Eitz Chayim says that the light of the Ein Sof, blessed be He, does not unite even with the world of Atzilus except by first becoming invested in the sefirah of Chochmah. “That is,” the Alter Rebbe explains, “because the Ein Sof, blessed be He, is the true One: He alone exists, and there is nothing besides Him. And this is the level of Chochmah,” and so on. Eitz Chayim says this—it is from the writings of the Arizal. The holy Arizal says that, in order to create the world, Hakadosh Boruch Hu first had to become invested in the sefirah of Chochmah of the world of Atzilus. After He became invested in Chochmah, He could then descend to Binah, to Chesed, to Malchus, to create—fine. But in order to create the worlds, Hakadosh Boruch Hu first has to... That is what Eitz Chayim says. First of all, that is the order. He must, must become invested in Chochmah. Once He has become invested in Chochmah, then we can talk; but it all begins there. That is why the sefirah of Chochmah is called “the beginning,” along with several other points connected to this. The Maggid explains to the Alter Rebbe why. What is so special about this sefirah? If Hakadosh Boruch

38:43 Speaker 2 Hu wants to, could He not become invested first in the sefirah of Binah, say? In the sefirah of Chesed? Why? Why does Eitz Chayim so strongly emphasize specifically the sefirah of Chochmah, and only afterward...? What is so special about Chochmah? The Maggid of Mezritch explains—the Alter Rebbe explains in his name: What is Chochmah? Right, Chochmah is koach mah, “the power of ‘what.’” What is “what”? What is bittul, self-nullification? What is bittul? Bittul is—not. Nothing. The nature of Chochmah is nothingness. “I do not exist.” Not “I do not exist”; it starts with “do not exist.” No “I.” There is no, no “I.” No separate existence. The entire nature of the level of Chochmah is bittul. For example, we can see this in every one of us when we want to understand something, when we encounter a deep intellectual subject or an idea for the first time. Sometimes things are easy to understand; sometimes things are harder to understand. And if we toil and make an effort and hold on to the central point, then in the end, usually—or in many cases—we do manage to understand. What is this movement within the soul? A person is trying to understand something he has not understood until now. What is happening here? Let’s analyze it. The idea, the concept, is now above him. He feels he needs to climb up and reach something above him, something he does not yet have. And as long as he tries to explain it to himself or compare it to other things, he cannot understand it. His previous understandings—not just preconceived notions, but even correct understandings—if they are unrelated to this subject, if this is something new that he has never encountered, then no matter what he tries, as long as his mind, his thoughts, are working in their usual way, he cannot understand. When does he finally manage to grasp the point? At the moment he manages to set aside his own thoughts and attach himself to that point.

41:16 Speaker 2 What was in his mind until now is no longer there. He has nullified himself; his separate existence has been nullified, his intellect has been nullified. Now he is attached to that point; now he understands. Afterward, he can also bring it down into thoughts, into intellectual reasoning and understanding, find analogies for it, and so on and so forth. The nature of Chochmah is that a person nullifies his own existence, because that is the level of Chochmah. Its entire nature is bittul, koach mah, as people said here. So how can the light of the Ein Sof create worlds? First, it needs a place where it can be present, where it can be perceived. There is nothing that can receive Hashem’s light, that it can enter, except Chochmah, because its entire nature is bittul. That is the content of the gloss. So that was the second section of the chapter, in which the Rebbe explained why. In the first section, the Rebbe said that for the Shechinah to rest upon a person’s head, there must specifically be mitzvos, and not anything else. In the second section, the Rebbe went further and explained why even a soul—even the soul of a tzaddik at prayer, with love and awe—cannot be a vessel for the Shechinah’s presence; only mitzvos can. Why only mitzvos? Because only mitzvos are Hashem’s own will, and they are in a state of genuine, complete bittul. Therefore, the light of the Shechinah can rest only upon mitzvos. From here, the Rebbe begins to explain that within this itself there are several levels. “Now, when a person engages in Torah”—the mitzvah under discussion right now is Torah—“his soul, which is his G-dly soul, together with only its two inner garments,” the faculties of speech and thought. Without action—only speech and thought. Why? Because how do we study Torah? Through thought and speech. So they truly become incorporated into the light of Hashem, the Ein Sof, blessed be He, and are completely united with it. And that is the Shechinah’s presence upon his G-dly soul, as the Zohar says: “Even when one person sits and engages in Torah, the Shechinah is with him.” So

43:59 Speaker 2 When a person studies Torah, how does he fulfill the mitzvah of Torah study? Through the garments of thought and speech. So what is included in the light of Hashem? Where does the Shechinah shine? Upon his thought and speech, because those are the faculties taking part in the mitzvah. But to draw the light and radiance of the Shechinah onto his body and his animal soul as well—the vital soul actually clothed in his body—Torah study alone will not do it. His body must also take part in the mitzvah; the faculty of action must take part. He has to perform practical mitzvos carried out by the actual body. Then the body’s power engaged in that action is included in the light and will of Hashem and united with Him in complete unity. This is the faculty of action, the third garment of the divine soul. And then the power of the vital soul within his actual body, which comes from kelipas nogah, is transformed from evil to good and is actually included in holiness, just like the divine soul. Why? What does the power of the animal soul have to do with the divine soul’s faculty of action? Because it is the one that actually carries out the mitzvah. Without it, the divine soul could not act through the body at all. The divine soul is spiritual, while the body is physical and material. How can something spiritual move something physical? Can that happen? There used to be Uri Geller—we spoke about this once—who would stare at a spoon and it would bend. Well, that was sleight of hand. Someone even exposed it as sleight of hand and showed how he did it. That’s another matter. But in the practical world, in the real world, if I want to eat, I have to move my hand and pick it up.

46:28 Speaker 4 Not us, but that possibility exists. What did we just read in Chumash? Moshe killed the Egyptian through speech, as it were...

46:35 Speaker 2 Well, what does “killed” mean? He took his soul out of him.

46:39 Speaker 4 But he didn’t do it through a physical act. He did it through a spiritual power.

46:42 Speaker 2 But he didn’t do anything physical. He performed an action—a spiritual action.

46:49 Speaker 4 That has a tremendous effect on the physical, though. A person’s life is something...

46:51 Speaker 2 All right, when there’s no soul in the body, then of course it doesn’t... It doesn’t work on its own. But to take something, to move it... The body is alive. What is the body made of? “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.” It’s a few chemical elements, a bit of sodium, a bit of chlorine—I don’t know what’s in there. Someone once weighed all the materials in the human body and calculated how much they were worth in money. It didn’t come to much.

47:24 Speaker 4 Mostly water. Water is good.

47:27 Speaker 2 I don’t remember the number—maybe three shekels, five shekels, something like that.

47:30 Speaker 4 Maybe forty? Sixty percent of our body is water.

47:34 Speaker 2 Huh? Water, yes. I don’t know what that comes to at today’s prices. I saw this thirty years ago, but...

47:40 Speaker 4 Maybe more.

47:44 Speaker 2 Yes, the body’s value comes from the soul inside it that gives it life. That’s the whole significance of the body. A body without a soul is... we call that, G-d forbid, a dead body. Now this is truly astonishing. How can a soul, which is spiritual, give life to a physical body, make it function, move it? How do they—where is the point of connection? How does it touch the body? The Alter Rebbe says: There is an animal soul, and that is its job. The animal soul’s job is to give life to the body. How does it do that? After all, it too is spiritual. How does it do it? That’s another matter. The Rebbe explains it, but that’s another matter. The divine soul wants to perform a mitzvah; it can want that from now until tomorrow. To actually perform a mitzvah, it needs the animal soul. It has to clothe itself within the animal soul and persuade it that, instead of staying in bed for another hour in the morning, it should get up because it has to say Shema. And then the mouth and tongue and lungs have to move so that the words of Shema come out of the mouth. The animal soul does that. The divine soul wants to do it, but the one that actually does it is the animal soul. So because the actual performance of mitzvos is done by the animal soul—it is the one that acts and moves the body—the faculty of action, the third garment of the divine soul, does not act on its own. It clothes itself in the animal soul’s faculty of action, and then the body begins to do what it is told. So ultimately, the one actually performing the mitzvah is the animal soul. And since the animal soul, while it is performing a mitzvah—at that moment, it is a mitzvah. And what is a mitzvah? We said

50:13 Speaker 2 earlier: it is the will of Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, without any... It is He Himself, without any concealment. Now, when the animal soul performs a mitzvah, it is included in the light of Hashem and completely nullified to it. When a person davens and has love and awe, he has love and awe. He pushes the animal soul aside so it won’t raise its head—he hits it over the head with a hammer. Now it’s dazed for half an hour, an hour. It can’t speak. But he hasn’t changed it; it hasn’t taken part in the mitzvah. Who has? When a person performs a mitzvah with his body, the animal soul itself is included in the light of Hashem. “Without it, the divine soul could not act through the body at all, for it is spiritual and the body is physical and material. The intermediary between them is the vital animal soul, clothed in the person’s blood, in his heart and throughout his body. And although the essence and substance of the animal soul in his heart, with its evil character traits, have not yet been included in holiness”—what has been included in holiness? The animal soul’s faculty of action. What is the faculty of action? It’s a garment. It’s only a garment of the animal soul, not its principal garment. The faculty of action is included in G-dliness. We haven’t reached the animal soul itself; we haven’t even come close to it. “Nevertheless, since they are compelled to submit to holiness,” ultimately the animal soul has now bent to holiness, “and against their will they answer amen, agreeing and consenting to the performance of the mitzvah because the divine soul in the mind, which rules over the heart, has prevailed. At this time the animal soul is in a state of exile and sleep, as mentioned above”—the reverse of the usual situation. Usually the divine soul is in exile under the animal soul, but when a person performs a mitzvah, it is reversed. Now the animal soul is in exile under the divine soul. “Therefore this does not prevent the Shechinah from resting upon the person’s body at this time.” So it’s true that the animal soul is still there and is not exactly nullified to G-dliness or included in it, but

52:37 Speaker 2 it’s enough that the third garment, the faculty of action, is included in G-dliness. The fact that the animal soul is there doesn’t interfere; G-dliness shines. “That is, the power of the vital soul clothed in the performance of the mitzvah is actually included in the light of Hashem and united with Him in complete unity, and through this it draws a radiance upon the vital soul as a whole.” That’s another point. Ultimately, the faculty of action isn’t something separate; it is a faculty of the animal soul. So it’s true that the animal soul’s essence and substance haven’t been affected. It remains as it was, doing just fine. But it’s been prodded; it’s felt a little jab. That’s something. It also has a surrounding effect on the entire animal soul throughout the body. More than that: because the animal soul is actually present throughout the body and gives life to the entire body, this affects not only the limb that performed the mitzvah, and not only the whole animal soul, but also the entire physical body. The thing is, the resting of the Shechinah upon the whole animal soul and the physical body isn’t revealed within them inwardly. It is only in the manner of a surrounding light, from above the head down to the feet. It doesn’t work its way into him; it isn’t felt or absorbed inwardly. But as a surrounding light, it extends over the entire body. This is why it says, “The Shechinah rests upon his head”—specifically. King Shlomo asked about the verse, “The wise man’s eyes are in his head.” We asked: Where else would his eyes be? The Alter Rebbe explains what the question was there. Why do we say the Shechinah is upon his head? When a person thinks, he should also feel. We should say that the Shechinah is in his head or in his heart. Now his whole body is included in the light of Hashem. Why do you say it is only above his head? Because what are we talking about? We’re talking about performing mitzvos, and performing mitzvos takes effect on

55:12 Speaker 2 Through the power of action, the third garment. And on the body—the Shechinah rests on the body only in a surrounding way, not in an internal way. It is “upon his head,” from above; “upon” specifically. And it is the same as what our Sages said: “Wherever ten Jews gather, the Shechinah rests.” The same thing. When there are ten Jews, the Shechinah automatically rests upon them. They haven’t performed any mitzvah. The Alter Rebbe says it’s the same here. True, when a person gives tzedakah with his hand, his heart, his fingernails, his other hand, his hair haven’t performed a mitzvah. But the light of the Shechinah surrounds his entire body. It’s the same thing. Even though his hair hasn’t performed a mitzvah, the light of the Shechinah surrounds it too. What is this like? Ten Jews in one place: the light of Hashem is present and surrounds them, even though they aren’t performing a mitzvah. True, only that particular limb performed a mitzvah, but the Shechinah rests in a surrounding way upon the entire animal soul and the entire body as well. So we’ve arrived at something very strange. It turns out that there are all kinds of ways the Shechinah rests: in an internal way, in a surrounding way; its resting can depend on performing a mitzvah or not depend on performing a mitzvah; it can rest on the G-dly soul, on the animal soul, on this garment or on that garment. What’s going on here? How many Shechinahs are there? The Alter Rebbe concludes this point: “Now, all the forms in which the light of the Shechinah is drawn down—which is a revelation of the light of the Ein Sof, blessed be He—are not called a change in Him, G-d forbid.” Because seemingly, if the Shechinah is now revealed, the light of Hashem is now revealed, the Ein Sof, His very Essence and Being, is now revealed, then how can it be one way this time and another way the next? The light of the Ein Sof is unlimited. Hakadosh Boruch Hu is

57:38 Speaker 2 unlimited. If He is revealed, then either He is or He isn’t. How can He be revealed in all these different ways? So the fact that the light of the Shechinah is revealed in different ways is not called a change in Him. Why? “Nor a multiplicity, as stated in Sanhedrin,” in the Gemara, Tractate Sanhedrin: “A certain heretic said to Rabban Gamliel: You say that wherever ten Jews gather, the Shechinah rests. How many Shechinahs do you have?” How many G-ds do you have? That heretic asked Rabban Gamliel. “And he answered him with an analogy of sunlight entering through many windows, etc., and the discerning person will understand.” When sunlight enters through many windows, we don’t say that each window has its own sun. And it goes further than that. Imagine one window with red glass, another with glass of a different color, and another with a curtain. The light looks completely different. It doesn’t look like the same light at all. Something has changed in the way the sunlight appears. Then there’s an even more physical analogy. You take water and pour it into a glass. Do you remember? Do you know the analogy? You pour water into a glass, and if the glass is colored, it looks as though the water has taken on a lovely color. Then, when you pour the water back out, you suddenly see that it has its original color. Wait a minute—I just saw it looking like a different color! True, but that was only because of the vessel. The water itself underwent no change. Chassidim add at the end of this chapter—I think this goes back to chassidim of the Alter Rebbe—“The discerning person will understand, and the one who serves Hashem will feel it.” After you study the chapter and understand it,

59:55 Speaker 2 you can say, “I understand.” But understanding isn’t enough. Chassidus demands that you feel it. Feeling is far, far more than understanding. I can understand something, and afterward it doesn’t touch me or affect me at all. What’s required is that I understand it, contemplate it, and think about it again and again, until I feel it. Feel what? That when I come to perform a mitzvah, I feel—not just think—that I’m about to connect with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The light of Hashem is about to shine within me. The Shechinah is about to rest upon my head. It should become automatic, not something I have to stop and think about. If you think about it again and again, you can reach that point. That brings us to the end of the chapter. We said that chapter 35 is the first of three chapters explaining the importance of action. Here, what was explained wasn’t so much the importance of action as its special quality. Performing practical mitzvos has a wonderful quality. What is it? The light of Hashem rests upon me. My body and my soul, my spirit, speech, and actions are encompassed within the light of Hashem, and I become entirely nullified to G-dliness. It’s a wonderful thing. But a Jew might come to the Alter Rebbe and say, “Okay, I don’t feel like it. So what? It’s wonderful. Great. You’ve convinced me. Fine, let’s move on.” In the next chapter, the Alter Rebbe explains why it’s not only a wonderful thing, but an important one too.