Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 2 - Part 3

00:02 Speaker 1 The Alter Rebbe says, “And so, by way of analogy”—chapter 2, fifth line. The second soul “is truly a part of G-d above,” and concerning this the term “breathing” is used. Breathing implies that it comes from within, from a person’s inner vitality; the soul comes from within. “So, by way of analogy, the souls of Israel arose in thought.” The same applies to the souls of Israel. When we say that the soul comes through breathing, we mean that it comes from within. We see this also in the souls of Israel, which are said to have come from thought. In the previous lesson we explained the difference between breathing and speech: one is external, and the other is inward. This also helps us understand the distinction between all created beings—even angels, who are said to come from speech—and the souls of Israel, which are said to come from thought. That is why the Alter Rebbe brings the words “arose in thought.” The wording is precise: not merely that they were in thought, but that they “arose in thought.” Why specify “arose in thought”? After all, even if we say that all created beings, angels included, come from speech, thought had to precede that speech. A person does not simply speak without thinking. When he speaks, he first thinks and then speaks. By the same token, before Hakadosh Boruch Hu spoke to create angels and other beings, there was also thought. That is why the wording specifies “arose in thought”: the Jewish people are on a higher level within thought itself. In any event, the general distinction between souls and angels is that souls are associated with thought, while angels are associated with speech: they “were created through speech.” What is the difference between thought and speech? It follows the distinction we discussed earlier. The difference between thought and speech is not merely

02:16 Speaker 1 a difference between finer letters and coarser letters, or between more spiritual letters and more physical letters. It is not just a difference of degree; their entire nature is different. “Thought is for oneself, and speech is for another.” That is to say, the difference between thought and speech is fundamental. Thought is for oneself: the whole purpose of thought is to reveal one’s intellect and emotions to oneself. Thought is something inward. Speech, by contrast, exists entirely for another person. So when we say that all created beings come from speech, what do we mean? They come from the power and speech of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that is directed toward another. That is, they come from an aspect of G-dliness expressed in a way that allows for separateness, for something distinct, for an “other.” That is why they become independent entities. A soul, by contrast, is associated with thought, and thought is united and bound with the soul; it is for oneself. Consequently, a Jew, whose source is in thought, always remains a part of Hakadosh Boruch Hu—within, as it were. He always remains one in essence with G-dliness, part of the inwardness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is the point about the second soul of a Jew: even when it descends here below into physical reality, it always remains, in its essence and its very nature, G-dliness. For that is the nature of thought: it always remains bound and united with the soul. So too, a Jew always remains bound and united with G-dliness. “As it is written, ‘Israel is My firstborn son.’” The Alter Rebbe says that this verse refers to the unique quality of a Jew: a Jew comes from the inwardness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Breathing and thought share this feature: they come from within Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is what is meant by “Israel is My firstborn son” and “You are children of Hashem your G-d.” These are two verses, and what they have in common is that both emphasize that the Jewish people are children—“My firstborn son” or “You are children.” So this is the concept of children. What defines a child? Exactly the same point. The emphasis in calling someone a child is likewise

04:24 Speaker 1 this point. The verse calls the Jewish people “children” to emphasize inwardness. As we said, the difference between thought and speech, and between breathing and speech, is that the former come from within. The same is true of a son: a son comes from within and carries that forward. In the Alter Rebbe’s words, “Just as a son is drawn from his father’s brain, so, as it were, the soul of every Jew is drawn from His blessed thought and wisdom.” So the Jewish people are called children. What defines that relationship? A son comes from the father’s innermost essence. The Alter Rebbe says here “from his father’s brain,” but he does not mean the brain merely as the seat of intellect. He means a particular aspect of the brain. As explained elsewhere, the emphasis here is on the brain’s connection to the soul as a whole. The Siddur explains that besides being the seat of intellect, the brain is associated with the soul itself, with the soul’s very essence. Tanya itself says this near the end—in chapter 50, sorry, chapter 51. There the Alter Rebbe, the author of Tanya, explains that when the soul becomes enclothed in the body, its primary presence is first enclothed in the brain, and from the brain it spreads to all the organs. So when we say that a Jew—sorry, that a son—is drawn from his father’s brain, the meaning is that the son comes from the father’s innermost essence, from what is deepest and most inward within him. The same applies here. When we say that the souls of Israel arose in thought and that they are children of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, we mean that they come from the inwardness and essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, just as a son comes from his father’s inwardness and essence. In other words, this is explained in the Siddur and in other maamarim, and it will also become clear later in Tanya itself. There are several kinds of love. Broadly speaking, love can be divided into two kinds: there is love between friends, and there is an essential love. In the language of Pirkei Avos: “There is love that depends on something”—love, I mean—“there is love that depends on something, and there is love that does not depend on anything.” What is the difference? Love that depends on something means love that arises from a reason, from an intellectual judgment. That is, I, Reuven, love Shimon. Why? Because Reuven sees Shimon’s good qualities. He sees that Shimon has talents or good character traits, and he likes his conduct and his qualities, so he grows close to him. What is happening here? When love is based on a rational reason, the connection is external on both sides, both Reuven’s and Shimon’s. From Reuven’s side, the side of the one who loves, the connection does not come from his essence, but only from his intellect or emotions. I have understood intellectually that Shimon has qualities that matter to me, and therefore I love him. That is, the love does not spring from my essence. It springs from my understanding that he has good qualities. It comes from a person’s more external faculties, not from his essence. The same is true of my relationship to Shimon. What is it about Shimon that I love? I do not love Shimon’s essence. I love Shimon’s intellect and character traits. I love his qualities, talents, and attributes. In other words, Reuven’s external qualities have connected with Shimon’s external qualities. Once those reasons and grounds disappear, the love will disappear. That is the meaning—the deeper meaning—of love that depends on something. Of course, the plain meaning

06:31 Speaker 1 That will become clear later. There are several kinds of love. Speaking about love in general, it can be divided into two kinds: love between friends and essential love. In the words of Pirkei Avos: “There is love that depends on something, and there is love that does not depend on something.” What is the difference? Love that depends on something means love that has a reason, an intellectual basis. In other words, I, Reuven, love Shimon. Why? Because Reuven sees Shimon’s qualities. He sees that Shimon has talents or good character traits, and he likes the way Shimon conducts himself, his qualities, so he becomes close to him. What is happening here? When love is based on an intellectual reason, then on both sides—Reuven’s and Shimon’s—their connection is an external one. From Reuven’s side, the side of the person who loves, the connection does not come from his very essence. It comes only from his intellect or his emotions. Through my intellect, I have understood that the other person has qualities; those qualities matter to me, and therefore I love him. In other words, the love does not arise from my innermost self. It arises from my understanding that he has qualities. So the love comes from a person’s external faculties, not from his essence. And the same applies to my relationship with Shimon. What is it about Shimon that I love? I do not love Shimon’s essence. I love Shimon’s intellect and character traits. I love his qualities, talents, and attributes. So it is Reuven’s external side connecting with Shimon’s external side. Once those reasons cease to exist, the love will cease as well. That is the meaning—the deeper meaning—of love that depends on something. Of course, the plain meaning…

08:39 Speaker 1 The plain meaning, as intended here, is on a much lower level: love that depends on something. But that is the plain meaning—the deeper meaning of it. When love is based only on an intellectual reason, it comes from the external aspects of one person and the other. The love between a father and son, by contrast, is essential. It comes from the essence of the father and the essence of the son. I love him because he is my son—not because he is clever, not because he is intellectual, not because he has some special quality. A father loves his son because he is his son. What does that mean? He is my very essence. This love is the essence of the father connecting with the essence of the son. These are not external matters; it is essence connecting with essence. That is why it does not depend on any reasons or virtues. On the contrary, it says in one of the Rebbe’s maamarim—the Rebbe points out that sometimes it is precisely a son who has no special virtues for whom, as we can actually see, the father’s love is greater. I don’t know; I imagine some people might argue with that. But that is what it says. Sometimes, when a son has virtues, they conceal the essential love. Since the father loves him for his virtues, he becomes, how should I put it, swayed by his son’s virtues. That love of his virtues then conceals the true, inner love between father and son. In general, we see this in the difference between a baby and an adult: parents love a baby. They love their young children much more than their grown children. No one should complain! No, this is written in Chassidus. It is one of the explanations given in Chassidus. That is why it says, “For Yisroel is a child,

10:20 Speaker 1 and I love him”—Hashem’s love for the Jewish people is like love for little children. Why? Because nothing is demanded of a little child; no one looks for virtues in him. A little child, a baby, is loved because he is my baby. No, no one is waiting for anything from him—no livelihood, no demands. No one is waiting for him to become a Torah scholar or to become something. He is at home, and they love him because he is a baby. Once he grows up, there are already demands. There is livelihood to think about. There are, how should I put it, demands and expectations. They want him to grow into a Torah scholar, to grow into a fine young man, to become a rosh yeshivah, to bring them nachas, and so on. And then he starts—and then he enters his teenage years, and he does not bring quite so much nachas, and there is not quite so much love. So pressure and tension begin, and things are not so happy. That conceals the love. It is not that the love is absent, chas veshalom; it is concealed. Because the love starts to involve reasons and considerations, that can obscure, chas veshalom—not erase, but sometimes obscure—the essential love. In any case, the bond between father and son is an essential bond. Why? Because the son truly comes from the father’s essence. The same applies to Jewish souls: “You are children to Hashem your G-d.” For a Jew to be a child of Hakadosh Boruch Hu means that a Jew comes from the innermost aspect of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Rebbe emphasizes this later on; we will see why. But in any case, the point is that the soul comes from the innermost aspect of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Rebbe then explains another very fundamental point in all this. He explains that there really is a difference between the analogy and what it represents. They are not entirely alike. There is a difference between them that even has a halachic expression. What is the difference? The Rebbe says

12:10 Speaker 1 that in the analogy, the father-and-son relationship, the son comes from the father’s essence. But that is only at his source. In practice, after he is born, the son separates from his father and becomes a distinct entity. They become two bodies and two people. Of course, they have a bond, as the Rebbe goes on to explain. But ultimately, the son becomes a separate being, something distinct. With Hakadosh Boruch Hu, by contrast, a Jew always remains connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu; there is never any true separation. A Jew is never cut off. He comes from the essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu and always remains included in and united with that essence. Although outwardly it may not appear that way, in truth a Jew always remains included in and connected to the essence of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He never leaves it. How is this difference expressed? The Rebbe says it is expressed in halachah. Halachah rules that a son is not obligated to give his life for his father. A son has no such obligation. According to halachah, when it is a question of your life or your father’s life, your life takes precedence. If a person faces a situation in which he must choose between saving his own life and saving his father’s, if he does not ask, he will do what he wants. But according to halachah, a person must preserve his own life before his father’s. That means he is not obligated to give his life for his father. For Hakadosh Boruch Hu, by contrast, there is such an obligation. There is an obligation of mesirus nefesh. A Jew must give his life for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Why? What is the reason? This is the difference: a son comes from his father, but because he has separated from him,

13:48 Speaker 1 ultimately, after he is born, he is only like a limb of his father. Because of that separation, he is no longer literally part of his father’s essence. Therefore, he has no obligation of mesirus nefesh. A Jew, by contrast, always remains connected to the essence. He can never become detached from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and therefore he is obligated in mesirus nefesh even after he becomes an entity in his own right. The Rebbe explains this in one place. In any case, this is what the Alter Rebbe says here: a Jew is a child of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Rebbe asks why the Alter Rebbe cites two verses. Why does he not suffice with one verse? Why does the Alter Rebbe cite both “Yisroel is My firstborn son” and “You are children to Hashem your G-d”? Incidentally, one verse appears before Matan Torah and the other after Matan Torah. On the plain level, “Yisroel is My firstborn son” appears in Parshas Shemos, before Matan Torah. “You are children to Hashem your G-d,” by contrast, appears in Parshas Re’eh, after Matan Torah. Is it Re’eh or Shoftim?

14:53 Speaker 2 Re’eh.

14:53 Speaker 1 Re’eh. So, at first glance, he cites both verses to show that this does not depend on Matan Torah. A Jew’s being a child of Hakadosh Boruch Hu is not specifically connected with Matan Torah. It is an essential bond. This is what Chassidus always explains: the bond between a Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu is an essential bond, beyond Torah. We see that Jews are called children both before and after Matan Torah. But that still does not explain it. The Alter Rebbe could have cited only the first verse to show that they were called children even before Matan Torah. So the Rebbe explains in one place why the Alter Rebbe cited two verses. There is one explanation—or two answers, two explanations. One explanation is that “Yisroel is My firstborn son” speaks of the soul’s source as it is in supernal Chochmah. After all, we said here that all souls are rooted in the mind. That is the soul at its source. But afterward, the souls descend through the four worlds, as the Rebbe will explain later. The souls pass down through various levels. So the soul as it is at its source, in supernal Chochmah, is called “Yisroel is My firstborn son.” After the soul descends through the four worlds—Atzilus, Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah—it is called “You are children.” That is the distinction between the two verses. Another explanation he gives is that they refer to two kinds of souls. Chassidus always explains that, broadly speaking, souls are divided into two kinds: souls of Atzilus and souls of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah; souls of Mah and souls of Ban. There are souls that are completely nullified to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, like Moshe Rabbeinu, who was completely nullified to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. His avodah was the avodah of the soul; his body did not conceal it at all. They are completely nullified—souls of Atzilus. And there are many souls of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah, whose task is

16:41 Speaker 1 To work with the body and refine it. Those are the two levels. “Yisroel is My firstborn son” refers to souls of Atzilus—the word “firstborn”—while “You are children” refers to souls of Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah. What they have in common is that they are all called children. One is “My firstborn son,” the other simply “children,” but they all fall into the category of children. They all have the essential quality of a child: being connected to the father and united with his very essence. The Alter Rebbe says that this comes from Chochmah. Here there’s a general question many people ask. It isn’t just about this passage; it comes up with quite a few points in Tanya. It’s a well-known question, though perhaps some people haven’t heard it. After the Alter Rebbe begins by saying that the soul is “truly a part of G-d above,” how is that usually understood? Simply, that the soul is part of the Essence. The soul comes from Atzmus, and that’s also how it’s understood in the maamarim. Anyone who studies the Rebbe’s maamarim sees it throughout the maamarim and sichos. The Rebbe says plainly that Jewish souls emanate from Atzmus. It’s written in the Rebbe’s maamarim and sichos. But here the Alter Rebbe seems to shift away from that. It isn’t quite Atzmus anymore. He begins with “a part of G-d above,” then starts speaking about thought, about intellect, about Chochmah. It’s as though he’s descending through levels, rather than speaking about Atzmus. In one of the maamarim, the Rebbe explains that the soul’s true source is indeed in Atzmus, above every definition, every name, every sefirah, and every other level. The reason the Alter Rebbe speaks specifically here about Chochmah, seeking to explain the soul from that perspective, is that in Tanya he is speaking about the soul as it exists within seder hishtalshelus, the chain of spiritual worlds. The Alter Rebbe is not speaking about the soul as it is

18:40 Speaker 1 above seder hishtalshelus. We all know that the soul has five names: nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah, and yechidah. Broadly, they divide into two groups. Chayah and yechidah are above seder hishtalshelus, while nefesh, ruach, and neshamah are within it. In other words, there is the soul as it is invested in the body: intellect, emotions, and action—the levels of neshamah, ruach, and nefesh. Then there are chayah and yechidah, the transcendent dimensions of the soul, above seder hishtalshelus: will and pleasure. Nowhere in Tanya does the Alter Rebbe speak explicitly about chayah and yechidah. Throughout Likkutei Amarim, he never mentions those names. He speaks entirely about nefesh, ruach, and neshamah. There are allusions to chayah and yechidah, various hints that people explain as what the Alter Rebbe intended, but openly, in the plain text of Tanya, chayah and yechidah are never named—only nefesh, ruach, and neshamah. Why? Because throughout Tanya the Alter Rebbe writes according to seder hishtalshelus. He wanted to set out the path of beinonim, the service of a beinoni: ordinary service, a path every person can reach through the regular order of avodah. It does not require leaps or boundless levels of mesirus nefesh; it is a manner and measure of avodah accessible to every Jew, avodah guided by understanding. That is the point of Tanya, of Likkutei Amarim. So the Alter Rebbe took care not to bring in matters associated with chayah and yechidah, but to explain everything from the perspective of nefesh, ruach, and neshamah. That is why, here in chapter 2, when the Alter Rebbe explains the soul’s source, he does not explain it in terms of Atzmus or Kesser. The highest level the Alter Rebbe reaches

20:30 Speaker 1 is Chochmah. This is where the soul begins as it is connected to its source in G-dliness. So he begins with Chochmah, the soul’s first source as it exists in G-dliness: Chochmah of Atzilus. But Chochmah of Atzilus is connected with Ein Sof. That is what the Alter Rebbe goes on to say: “He is wise, but not with a knowable wisdom”; “He and His wisdom are one.” With Hakadosh Boruch Hu, Chochmah is not separate from Him. “He and His life-forces are one; He and His vessels are one.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu and Chochmah are one. So when we say the soul comes from Chochmah, we do not mean, G-d forbid, to separate the soul from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, as though Chochmah were separate. Even when we say the soul comes from Chochmah, it is ultimately connected with Ein Sof, since the sefiros are united with Atzmus. Still, the Alter Rebbe specifically wants to speak about the soul once it has entered the framework of hishtalshelus, the framework of Chochmah. That is what we see here. This helps us understand many things later in Tanya. The Alter Rebbe discusses various matters there, and this basic point—that in Tanya he speaks about everything from the perspective of the G-dly soul, about the soul as it... and the whole matter, too, in brief, is discussed in terms of how it works... resolves many questions one could ask about Tanya. This isn’t the place to go into it at length, but it resolves quite a few questions people ask. By the way, there’s a story related to this. It’s a story about the Alter Rebbe, who once said of himself that he was a beinoni of Tanya. I don’t remember the details, but that was the substance

22:34 Speaker 1 of the story: the Alter Rebbe once said of himself that he was a beinoni of Tanya. One of the chassidim, one of the great chassidim in Vilenka—I don’t remember exactly who it was—said to the Alter Rebbe, “If the Rebbe is a beinoni, what does that leave for us?” He said it in jest, of course. But if the Rebbe says he’s a beinoni, what does that leave for us? The Alter Rebbe told him, “What do you think? There are five hundred levels of beinoni.” There are five hundred levels within beinoni. Later, in connection with this—I don’t remember whether it was in the same story—the Alter Rebbe also said that even the tzaddik described in Tanya is only a beinoni. The tzaddik he explains in Tanya is also a level within beinoni, because in the book of the beinoni, everything is within beinoni; even the tzaddik is a beinoni. It’s just that the tzaddik within beinoni has his own level, much as there is a progression of levels in all these matters. So the book of the beinoni speaks about a beinoni, even when it explains the level of a tzaddik. That, too, is a tzaddik within beinoni. We have no conception of a true tzaddik. This relates to what we were just discussing: in Tanya, the Alter Rebbe speaks about everything within defined limits. In other words, the Alter Rebbe limited himself and did not speak about higher levels, only what pertains to the level of a beinoni. Even when he explains the level of a tzaddik, that is a tzaddik within beinoni, not a tzaddik in the fullest sense. What’s the difference between them? Don’t ask me; I’m just repeating a few words. What are you saying? What happened? Hmm? I didn’t understand what the point at the end was. Is that what he really was? What did he say? What did he mean? In other words, the Alter Rebbe... Hmm? Well, what? Perhaps the Alter Rebbe meant to answer that even if he was a beinoni, it could be

24:25 Speaker 1 that even an impertinent person is a beinoni. Ah, if he was a beinoni, there are five hundred levels, so he could at least have been at the very highest level. Of course, when the Rebbe said of himself that he was a beinoni, he said it out of humility and so on. But that’s just [unclear]. Where did you finish your studies?