Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 29 - Part 2

00:00 Speaker 1 We’re doing this on page 35, toward the bottom, three lines from the bottom. But we haven’t explained this point yet. So the Rebbe says: The Zohar states, “A body into which the light of the soul does not rise must be pounded.” What happens when a person tries to contemplate the greatness of Hashem? He contemplates it, and yet his heart does not awaken with a feeling of love for Hashem. The Rebbe says the solution is to break the kelipah. Why is the kelipah involved? Because of its coarseness. Coarseness is part of the kelipah; its whole nature is coarse. That coarseness darkens and conceals the G-dly light in the soul. As a result, he doesn’t feel it, and a feeling of love does not awaken in him. By breaking the kelipah, he awakens. How do you break the kelipah? By breaking your own heart. What is the connection between breaking your heart and breaking the kelipah? It is in the heart that the animal soul resides. In other words, this is the heart of the animal soul. So when a person asks, “Who am I?”—that is the animal soul speaking. The animal heart is the point of kelipah, of the sitra achra. By breaking his heart, then, he breaks the kelipah; that is what “must be pounded” means. This itself is the breaking of the sitra achra, and the G-dly light in the soul is revealed. That is the point the Rebbe makes here. This is the difference between a tzaddik and... between the two. Among animals, the body is primary and the soul is secondary. But for a tzaddik it is the opposite: the soul is primary.

02:18 Speaker 1 That is his essence, his light; for him, that is what matters most. The body, by contrast, is secondary. Like the story they tell about Hillel the Elder, who said he was going to do a kindness for “the poor one,” meaning his body. So we added that point, but the Rebbe adds that it goes further. It is not just a matter of primary and secondary; it is his entire reality. This whole reality is only [unclear]. There are a few points I want to raise now to help us understand this—general ideas that help in understanding Tanya as a whole. So we need to clarify a few points here that arise in understanding the subject. I’ll give you a particular example, a few angles on it, to help explain. One point—guys, you can record this. We don’t usually talk about it this way. It will interest everyone. You don’t understand Hebrew, Yehuda, huh? One thing here relates to what the Rebbe says: a person needs to break his heart, sometimes to humble himself in the manner of “must be pounded.” But that needs to be defined, because mistakes can be made in these matters. There is a well-known question about two sayings that seem to contradict one another. One says, “The strength of the body is the weakness of the soul.” If a person keeps his body strong and fit, then the soul is weak. “The strength of the soul is the weakness of the body”—the opposite. He has to weaken the body so that his soul will have strength. On the other hand, there is a well-known saying of the Maggid of Mezritch, connected with a whole story involving the Baal Shem Tov and Reb Avraham the Malach. The Maggid of Mezritch said, “A small hole in the body is a large hole in the soul.”

04:48 Speaker 1 In the soul, no less. If a person has a small hole in his body, it makes a large hole in his soul. In other words, when the body isn’t in good shape—when a person doesn’t take proper care of it—even a small problem with physical health causes a major problem with the health of the soul. That seems to say the opposite: the body needs to be strong. So people ask: How do we reconcile these two statements? Here we say, “The strength of the body is the weakness of the soul,” and there we say that a small hole in the body is a large hole in the soul. Which is it? Do we need to subdue and weaken the body, or strengthen it? How do these two things fit together? There is a sicha of the Rebbe in which he explains it in a few words, and that is the key to the explanation. It also appears in a letter. In short, what is the Rebbe’s explanation? It rests on two main points. First, “the strength of the body” means the intensity of one’s enthusiasm for bodily matters. That is the “strength of the body” which is “the weakness of the soul.” When a person is absorbed in bodily matters, when his desires, wants and cravings are strong, that weakens the soul. But when we say, “A small hole in the body is a large hole in the soul,” we are speaking simply about physical health. A person needs to keep his body healthy and whole, with all its systems working properly. If his body is unhealthy—if he doesn’t eat well, doesn’t sleep well, doesn’t take proper care of his health—that weakens the soul. The other issue is when a person is immersed in bodily concerns, when “the strength of the body” dominates his life. That is what weakens the soul.

06:53 Speaker 2 Question.

06:54 Speaker 1 A question. But—but that’s... a question. What happened in the past? What was it like then? This is exactly the point. People sit and look for explanations of reality. That was the whole innovation of the Baal Shem Tov. What does this have to do with what we’re discussing? The Rebbe says here that the main way to overcome a dulled heart is through what Tanya quotes: “A body into which the light of the soul does not rise must be pounded.” We have to take care of the body. Some understood the plain meaning of the Zohar to be that “must be pounded” means physically breaking the body—afflicting oneself, and things like that. The Rebbe comes to explain that this is not what it means. “Must be pounded” has nothing to do with damaging physical health. The body must be cared for; it must be healthy and whole. “Must be pounded” refers to matters of the soul. It means a kind of inner pounding, so that... In other words, there is also a letter of the Rebbe about this. These are related matters. The main work of breaking, the pounding that needs to be done, is not directed at the body but at the soul. That’s it in a few words. The Rebbe says it very clearly: the main work is certainly not on the body as a body. He means to pound the animal soul. If you want to refine yourself, that work has its effect within the soul. The body needs to be there—but I am in control. That’s the point. For example, there is the well-known story about the Rebbe Maharash, which the Rebbe also brings many times in his sichos. A chossid came to the Rebbe Maharash and told him about all the problems and weaknesses he had. He had a temper; he had... he was driven by his desires, he was an unruly person, and so on. All sorts of things, all sorts of things.

09:03 Speaker 1 The things he described showed what he was like at his core. So the Rebbe Maharash told him to undertake six hundred fasts. Six hundred fasts—that is an enormous number of fasts. The chossid began undertaking them. But the Rebbe Maharash told him that he did not mean fasting with the body. That did not count; that would just be dieting or exercise. The point was not to lose weight. He meant fasting with the mouth—not abstaining from food, but a fast from speech. “Undertake six hundred fasts with your speech.” The Rebbe said that this is sometimes much harder. A fast from speech is harder than a fast from food, and that is one of the points here. Now, at the yechidus he was also told to spend fifteen minutes every day thinking about himself. The story goes on to say that two years later, after completing the six hundred fasts, that chossid returned to Lubavitch. They say he was unrecognizable. He had become a completely different person, transformed from one extreme to the other. His very character changed because he did this. The Rebbe brings this story many times in connection with this point: the work and refinement that are needed. When a person wants to work on himself and refine himself so that he can become a vessel for G-dliness, there has to be a process of breaking down. But before the Baal Shem Tov, it seems to me, that process was—as he put it—literal breaking down. They had good intentions. But the Baal Shem Tov revealed, as the Rebbe explains, that the breaking down is meant to be within the soul. So all his guidance, the whole matter of... There is another point relevant to the section we are studying here, in connection with what the Rebbe explains. With regard to understanding and the like, that concerns the mind. The Alter Rebbe says that the person is the animal soul. That showed itself in the expression of his character traits.

11:10 Speaker 1 On the other hand, perhaps this is... because of the good tendencies, since the person himself is not the G-dly soul. So here too, we need to clarify a very fundamental point in Chassidus. Anyone who learns the Rebbe’s sichos, in any volume, anywhere, sees that the Rebbe constantly says that the essence of a Jew is G-dliness. To understand this, let me tell you... Here the Alter Rebbe says: What is the essential character of most Jews? Tzaddikim? That is their essential character; it is not on the level of tzaddikim. Even a beinoni, whose thought, speech, and action are all as they should be—nevertheless, the Alter Rebbe says, his true character remains hidden. How does that fit with what is written everywhere, that every Jew is, in essence... that every Jew has a portion of the soul and wants to serve Hashem? And the Rebbe always brings the Rambam, who says that a Jew does not—no, how is it written there? We’ll get to the Yerushalmi... Vital. A Jew wants to do Hashem’s will, so much so that this is stated in halachah. Rashi brings it as well in Vayikra, and the Rambam also rules this way in halachah. He writes about a Jew’s obligation. So he rules that if a person does not want to fulfill a mitzvah, how do you get him to want to? You strike him until he says, “I want to.” But how can the Rambam call that wanting to? He said he did not want to. They struck him, so now he says he wants to. Does not wanting to be struck mean that he wants to fulfill the mitzvah? Rather, the Rambam says that a Jew naturally wants to fulfill Hashem’s will. Whatever Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants, he wants too. So what happened? His evil inclination overpowered him. Gently, they strike him.

13:06 Speaker 1 Until his evil inclination gives way. So yes, this relates to what the Alter Rebbe says here in Tanya. The Alter Rebbe is speaking here about a person’s essential character, even that of a beinoni. He described the shortcoming and how it comes about, because that too is what has been added. But this is a very broad point. It applies not only here in Tanya, but throughout the books of Chassidus: in every person there are, essentially, three aspects. Sometimes the same words are used, but there are three aspects: the external, the internal, and the essential. Sometimes the terminology in Chassidus does not make that distinction explicit, but every person has these three aspects. There is the person’s external side. What is that? The external side is... the external side is his thought, speech, and action—what comes out. Everything that finds expression is called the person’s external side. Then there is his internal side: where his mind and heart are, what he desires and craves. That is the person’s internal side. And there is something deeper still: the person’s very essence. The essence is beyond even his internal character, and that is the distinction. Sometimes, when we look at a person, at a beinoni, this is the distinction between a rasha, a beinoni, and a tzaddik. Yes, when we look at the external side, he fulfills the mitzvah. A beinoni is someone whose actions are one hundred percent as they should be. Then we look at his internal side. What does that mean? What is he like in terms of his desires and cravings? Even in his inner character—not what comes out, but his inner nature and character traits—he has not yet given those up. A beinoni is someone who has not yet let go of all those traits. He still has the left chamber of the heart, where those desires remain. So from that standpoint, the evil inclination still has a place in him. What

15:39 Speaker 1 we say—that every Jew wants to do Hashem’s will, and what the Rambam says about removing the evil inclination—refers to the essence. In terms of their essence, every Jew is certainly “an actual part of G-d Above.” The Alter Rebbe is not speaking here in Tanya about that essence. If we were speaking about a Jew’s essence, then a rasha, a beinoni, and a tzaddik—all three are, in their essence, “an actual part of G-d Above.” From that standpoint there is no difference between a tzaddik and a rasha, because in both of them shines the truth that a Jew cannot and does not want to be separated from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It is the light of the Infinite that is present within them. That is why, when you go on mivtzoim and ask a Jew to put on tefillin, he may tell you he is not prepared to do it. It makes no impression on him; he feels no meaning or enthusiasm for it at all. Right? Perhaps he does it because he just wants the Lubavitcher to leave him alone, or because he has some other consideration. Or he tells you outright, “I’m not prepared to.” Yet in the end he says, “All right, I’ll put them on.” More than that, he might even say, “I don’t believe in this.” Yet he does it anyway. Why? Because deep down, you do want to. At your core, you are a Jew. That is not the issue. At your core, you are a Jew and you want to fulfill all the mitzvos. So a Jew’s essence is good. And externally, when that essence finds expression, things are good too: he fulfills the mitzvos; he puts on tefillin. Where, then, is the problem? Where does the difference show itself? It is in his internal

17:38 Speaker 1 character. So the Rebbe says here that even a beinoni, when it comes to his inner character, may still be quite different. In the left chamber of his heart there are still matters that need work. He has good traits in one respect, so we have to know which aspect is being discussed in each place. That is what the Rebbe is talking about here. This is what the Rebbe says: when we look at his external side, and then at his internal side, there is an enormous contrast. There is another point we will come to here as well. First of all, the point we have just discussed is a very broad one. It gives us an overall understanding of all these matters. It is a basic principle. Sometimes we hear people say to someone—and this is discussed a great deal in descriptions of personality, in psychology—there is an internal side and an external side. “You want to, but that is only external. You are being external. You say you daven, but you are doing it externally.” You get stuck because... There is a point here. We are now talking about the external and the internal. We are talking about them in the context of avodah. The external is the person who does these things, and there are many details to this. I am not going to enter into the whole subject of the external and internal right now. But when we speak of someone being truly internal, that is not the same “internal” as when we say that, deep down, a Jew wants only Hashem’s will. Those are different things. The latter is about a Jew’s essence; the former is about an inner dimension connected with how a person conducts himself. As I said, we have to be careful here. Another point I wanted to mention, which also relates to Tanya, is that the Rebbe says here that the difference between a tzaddik and a beinoni concerns their essential character, the body and the soul. For the tzaddik, his essential character is not [unclear] this body and flesh. So the question is, what happens with

19:47 Speaker 1 The animal soul of a tzaddik—does he have an animal soul or not? A tzaddik: does he have an animal soul or not? Even here, at the beginning of Tanya, it isn’t clear. When the Alter Rebbe says here in Tanya that a tzaddik has a G-dly soul that alone gives life to his physical body, and that the animal soul is completely nullified and subordinate to the G-dly soul, it isn’t so clear what happens with a tzaddik. Does only the G-dly soul give him life? Does he have no animal soul, or does he have one, but it isn’t active, it doesn’t function? How does it work for a tzaddik? Now, if you have the general idea, this is easy to understand in Tanya. But I’m saying: everyone who looks at this sees that even a tzaddik has two souls. So that raises the question: in Tanya, does a tzaddik also have two souls, including an animal soul? How does that fit with what the Alter Rebbe says here, that only the G-dly soul gives life to his body? Huh? Do you see the contradiction staring you in the face? Huh? I didn’t understand. Huh? Those three lines I quoted from Tanya. These are fundamental things you need to know to understand what’s going on; otherwise you won’t understand what’s happening here. You see, whether someone is Yechiel or Reuven or Aharon or Yosef or Eliezer—I’ve taught Jews Tanya. If you don’t learn Tanya properly, you get this whole matter wrong. And that’s not just for someone else; it applies to me too. So according to this, the Alter Rebbe also says that a tzaddik has an animal soul. How does a tzaddik have one? Does he have

22:36 Speaker 1 two souls?

22:36 Speaker 3 Simply not.

22:44 Speaker 1 Huh?

22:44 Speaker 3 Simply not.

22:45 Speaker 1 Nevertheless.

22:48 Speaker 3 Simply not.

22:48 Speaker 1 In any case, the Alter Rebbe also says that a tzaddik has two souls. How does a tzaddik have two souls? Here the Alter Rebbe says that the G-dly soul alone gives life to the body. What does that mean?

23:09 Speaker 3 That’s what you want to know.

23:13 Speaker 1 Here he explicitly speaks of the G-dly soul and the animal soul. They’re two—but the animal soul and the G-dly soul aren’t two separate things. They’re two parts of one thing. These are questions about how the matter is meant to be understood, about the level of a tzaddik. How does it work? A tzaddik also has a body, and that body is physical. So he necessarily has physical life. As Tanya says later, “The life of a tzaddik is not physical life, but spiritual life.” Still, he cannot be without physical life. A tzaddik eats and sleeps; he has a body. Yes, he is limited in that respect too, and there as well the Alter Rebbe says that as long as he lives in a body, the body limits him. In other words, a tzaddik also has his limitations. The question is whether these are two things or one thing. With an ordinary person who isn’t a tzaddik—what does that mean? The two are in conflict. The G-dly soul and the animal soul don’t leave him alone. The G-dly soul wants to bring only a higher kind of life into the person, with no connection to physicality. The animal soul wants to bring physical life into him. But what about a tzaddik? It isn’t that a tzaddik has no animal soul; his animal soul has become a garment for the G-dly soul. They are no longer two things. So of course he has an animal soul. Don’t call it “animal”; call it “vital.” There is a part of the soul that is invested in the warm blood and gives him life. A tzaddik, too, has that functioning soul. Without it, how would he live? But for a tzaddik, that soul has become a continuation, an extension, something inseparable from the G-dly soul. There are no longer two things here. That is what the Rebbe means. When it says “alone,” it could mean that the G-dly soul functions

25:13 Speaker 1 directly and there is no animal soul. Or “alone” could mean that the animal soul is no longer an entity in its own right. That is the difference between a tzaddik and a beinoni. For a beinoni, the animal soul is still a separate entity. It feels itself to be an entity. Even when it does what the G-dly soul wants—and, by the way, that...—it still has an existence of its own. A tzaddik, by contrast, has reached a stage where the entire existence of the animal soul is only an expression of the G-dly soul. That is why the G-dly soul is considered to give life on its own. Yet he has this garment that functions and gives life to the body. That is what the Rebbe is explaining here: how does a tzaddik experience these two things? A tzaddik, too, has a soul that functions and gives life to his body, but for a tzaddik the lower soul has become an inseparable part of the G-dly soul itself. There are not two things here; there is only one. All right, there’s the well-known story told about the Maggid of Kozhnitz. We’ll get to it here in Tanya shortly. It’s a traditional story. The Maggid of Kozhnitz was a holy man, one of the Maggid’s students. Once his grandson—I don’t remember exactly how the story goes—but the grandson asked him what a body is, and he said that a body is a garment. So he grabbed his grandfather, the Maggid, and said, “But I’m touching your body! I’m touching your body!” And the Maggid of Kozhnitz answered him in the Polish Yiddish they spoke,