Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 41 - Part 7

00:00 We are still discussing the point the Alter Rebbe emphasizes here in this chapter, concerning kabbolas ol of the Kingdom of Heaven. This is specifically a matter of avodah and fear of Heaven. It is not only for the sake of turning away from evil—where kabbolas ol of the Kingdom of Heaven is certainly necessary—but even for doing good. Doing good, too, needs the foundation of kabbolas ol. Why? Because the Torah says, “You shall serve Hashem.” The Torah demands avodah, service, and serving like a servant means bittul and kabbolas ol. This applies not only to turning away from evil and not doing wrong, but also to doing good. Why is that necessary? Why can’t a person do good on its own? Why must there be fear of Heaven and kabbolas ol even for doing good? We said that the answer comes from the Zohar. That is why the Alter Rebbe brings the Zohar here, on page 57. There are two points in it, which we discussed in the previous class. One concerns the person: when he lacks fear of Heaven and kabbolas ol, holiness will not rest upon him. Holiness rests only where there is bittul. So even if he has love, if he lacks bittul, holiness will not rest upon him. The second point is what we learn from the analogy of the ox: “to bring forth good from it for the world.” It is specifically when the ox takes the yoke upon itself that it can do this. The yoke is not only there to keep it from causing harm, but “to bring forth good from it for the world,” so that there can be abundant produce and all the rest. For that, the ox needs a yoke.

02:25 What does that mean in avodah? Kabbolas ol is needed for doing good not only so that a person, G-d forbid, will be free of impurity and holiness will be able to rest upon him. It is also needed for the drawing down itself, so that positive mitzvos will bring about the drawing down of G-dliness. That is the meaning of “to bring forth good from it for the world”: the light and holiness that mitzvos draw down. Doing good draws light and holiness into the world, and this happens specifically when there is kabbolas ol and acceptance of the Kingdom of Heaven. We explained one reason for this: kabbolas ol is what enables a person to draw things down from Above. As long as he remains separate, an entity unto himself, he cannot do so. Through bittul, he becomes a vessel, so that through the mitzvos he performs he can form a bond and connection with the Creator, and G-dliness can be drawn into the world. That was the point we needed in order to understand the plain meaning here in Tanya. There is one more observation before we go on, a point from the Rebbe. The Rebbe emphasizes why the Alter Rebbe writes that this is brought in the Zohar on Parshas Behar. We can take that in too. Look inside. Why does the Alter Rebbe cite the Zohar on Parshas Behar? Why does it matter that it is specifically in Parshas Behar? In general, when the Alter Rebbe gives a source, there is a reason for it. He does not always tell us where his sources come from, and when he does, it is because citing the source gives us an additional understanding. So the Rebbe says something very beautiful here: the Alter Rebbe specifically cites the Zohar on Parshas Behar because Behar, too, expresses the joining of the two opposites we are discussing.

04:38 The Zohar is teaching us here that even the avodah of positive mitzvos, the approach of doing good, must have the attitude of bittul and kabbolas ol. In other words, the Alter Rebbe requires a joining of bittul and kabbolas ol with doing good, with the active performance of mitzvos. That is the allusion in Parshas Behar, which speaks of Mount Sinai. As is explained, Mount Sinai emphasizes bittul on the one hand. Why did Hakadosh Boruch Hu choose Mount Sinai rather than another mountain? Because it had bittul: it was lower than all the other mountains, the lowest mountain, which emphasizes bittul. But then the Alter Rebbe asks in Likkutei Torah: Why a mountain at all? If Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted bittul, why didn’t He give the Torah in a valley, on level ground, or somewhere with no mountain whatsoever? The Alter Rebbe explains in Likkutei Torah on Megillas Esther that both are needed. It must be a mountain, and at the same time Sinai. In other words, there must be a joining of bittul and a sense of self. If a person had nothing but bittul, he would become a doormat. That is what the Alter Rebbe explains there: if a person has only bittul, he will become a doormat, a rag. A person who is utterly beaten down cannot do anything. He has completely negated himself. He thinks, “Who am I? What am I?”

06:38 “My ideas are worth nothing.” So of course he will do nothing. He will not be able to grow in serving Hashem. That is why there must be a firm sense of self. At the same time, we have to emphasize that this firmness must also have a foundation of bittul. His strength must not come from himself, but from the fact that he is a shliach, that Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose him and wants his ideas. So there is a joining of bittul and a sense of self. Just as Mount Sinai emphasizes that joining, so too here. That is why the Alter Rebbe identifies the parsha: it points to what we are discussing, that even when a person is engaged in action, in doing good and drawing down holiness, he must be permeated with bittul and kabbolas ol. That is the joining of kabbolas ol with a sense of self. By the way, we are now in the days of the Kinus Hashluchim. Every year when the Rebbe spoke about the Kinus Hashluchim, he would speak about shlichus: What is the power of a shliach? What is his role? What is his essence? The Rebbe discussed this point many times and connected the shluchim with Mount Sinai, with bittul and a sense of self. The Rebbe often speaks about several levels of shlichus: whether the act is attributed to the shliach, or whether… I don’t remember all the levels of shlichus right now. Whether the shliach becomes like the one who sent him only in this particular respect, or whether the shliach’s entire being becomes that of the sender. The Rebbe introduced a further level in this.

08:25 The Rebbe introduced two more levels—or another level. The question of whether the act is attributed to the shliach, or whether the shliach himself becomes like the sender, is an analysis by Reb Yosef Engel. In Lekach Tov, Reb Yosef Engel gives three levels, three ways of explaining shlichus. The Rebbe adds a fourth level. The Rebbe’s explanation was always that not only does the shliach become, as it were, like the sender; more than that, the shliach himself is the sender. That is a much greater bittul. The Rebbe explains the difference between them. Now, what does it mean that the shliach himself is the sender? It is like a servant: whatever a servant acquires belongs to his master. The point is not that the servant acquires something and, because the servant belongs to his master, the acquisition is attributed to the master. From the outset, there is no independent servant here. From the outset, the servant has no independent existence; he is only a servant. So the Rebbe clarified that the highest level of shlichus is that the shliach has no independent existence at all; he is only a servant. Then, in the later years, the Rebbe spoke about a fifth level. This was in the very last years, either 5750 or 5751—I don’t remember exactly which year. In that later period, the Rebbe introduced a fifth aspect of shlichus, the opposite of all those levels: the shliach does have his own identity. We always speak about the shliach’s bittul, but the truth is that, on the other hand, the shliach also has his own identity. He must know that the intention is specifically for him to be an individual, and to grasp the shlichus within his own abilities and circumstances, thinking with his own mind, with his own character traits

10:13 And with his own mind, thinking for himself how to do things, how to—while, in his own existence, he aligns himself with the will of the one who sent him. So that is the opposite: it is a movement in which his existence is the existence of the one who sent him. The Rebbe spoke about this openly in the later years. At one of the farbrengens, the Rebbe also told this story. It was in the later years; I don’t remember exactly when. The Rebbe told the story of a chossid who was walking down the street after a farbrengen. It was dangerous to walk in the street, because this was in Russia, where it was forbidden to be out late at night. So this chossid was walking down the street after Krias Shema and all that, and a policeman asked him, “Kto idyot?”—in Russian, “Who’s walking?” And he answered, “Bittul idyot”—yes, bittul is walking. So the Rebbe explained that “bittul is walking” combines two opposites. Bittul and walking: walking implies an existence, while bittul means negating one’s existence. Bittul. If he is in a state of bittul, how can he be walking? The Rebbe focused on the chossid’s exact words, “Bittul idyot”—that bittul is walking. This is the joining of existence and bittul. In other words, on the contrary, because his bittul is so great, he is not at all—he, he, he acts with the full force of his existence. Precisely because his bittul is so great, he has no independent existence at all. His entire existence is the existence of the one who sent him. So on the contrary, by virtue of the existence of the one who sent him, he becomes an existence—not just an existence, but one with redoubled strength. So he can walk. In any case, the same idea applies here: the burning bush joined existence with bittul. That was just an aside; we’ve moved on to the subject. The Rebbe only alludes to it here. That is why the Rebbe writes, “And this is the beginning of the service”: the idea of bittul must also permeate service connected with having an existence. He continues.

11:49 The Rebbe goes on and writes: “And in Raaya Mehemna, Parshas Behar, page 111b.” Do you have it? Page 57. There’s a line that begins in the middle: “And in Raaya Mehemna, Parshas Behar, page 111b.” The Zohar writes that every person must have two qualities and levels. So it also says there that every person must have two levels: that of a servant and that of a son. A Jew must serve Hashem in two ways, as a servant and as a son. Since the Zohar says that every person must have both levels, that proves that the service of a servant must always be present. That is, fear of Hashem. If we thought that being a servant was only for the beginning of the service, only for its initial stage, then why would someone capable of serving as a son need to be a servant? Someone who has already reached the level of a son, who has a bond with the Father like a son with his father—why would he need that? Granted, someone who doesn’t yet feel like a son at least serves Hashem as a servant. But why would someone who has already reached the level of a son need to be a servant? The Zohar says that every person must be on both levels, both servant and son, and from this we bring a proof. This is the proof the Rebbe draws: here too we see that servitude is essential and must be present. Even someone who has the quality of a son must also have the quality of a servant. From this we understand that the quality of a servant is fundamental to every aspect of serving Hashem, both as a servant and as a son. That is what we said earlier: servitude must be present at every level. He continues.

13:41 Look, he says: “And as for a servant, there is a son who is also a servant.” But seemingly there is a level at which they are no longer two separate levels. There is a level at which the son himself is a servant. There is a son who is a servant. This is explained in Chassidus as well. The Rebbe doesn’t go into it at length here, only briefly. But Chassidus explains that such a level exists. It has a source in the Zohar too, though where exactly? There is a level called “a son who is a servant.” What does that mean? It means someone who is on the level of a son. His service is on the level of a son, but he is so devoted to his father that when he serves him, he does so with the bittul of a servant. It isn’t that he has a son and a servant as two separate things. No, his service as a son, his self-sacrifice as a son, also has the quality of a servant. Generally, the difference between a son and a servant is that a son represents love and a servant represents fear. The service of a son, the bond between son and father, is a bond of love. When a son does something for his father, he does it because he loves him. Because of that love, he wants to make his father happy, so he does what his father wants. The defining characteristic of a son’s service is love. The defining characteristic of servitude, by contrast, is fear. Generally, a servant serves because “I have to.” He doesn’t love the master; because this is his master, he must do what the master wants. The level of a son who is a servant—

15:23 It means that his bond with his father is so deep, has penetrated so deeply, that he does not seek his own existence at all. He is not looking for what he gains by doing his father’s will. This is not simply love; his service to his father is self-sacrifice. In other words, it has the quality of a servant’s bittul. He is a son, but with a servant’s bittul, a servant’s self-sacrifice and setting aside of himself. The example given is what the Rebbe cited earlier, in chapter 10: “Like a son who strives for his father and mother and gives himself over to death.” The son is that devoted to his father. There is such a level: a son so devoted and given over to his father that he is even prepared to give his life for him. That is a son who is a servant. He is a son, but he is on precisely the level of a servant. So such a level can exist. Then why do you say that the beginning, essence, and root of the service must specifically be that of a servant? In saying so, you seem to rule out the son. The Rebbe insists that there must specifically be servitude, the kabbolas ol of a servant. But surely someone’s service could begin specifically as a son—except that he is a son who is a servant. That is servitude bound up with being a son, not servitude in its own right, which is what we have been discussing here. So he explains here that, regarding a servant, there is a son who is also a servant: the son himself is a servant. How does that fit with what we said earlier, that he must be a servant on his own, not a servant as an outgrowth of being a son? On the contrary, the requirement was specifically servitude.

17:06 The Rebbe says: “But one cannot reach this level without first attaining the higher fear.” To reach the level of a son who is a servant—someone who, though bound to his father like a son, nevertheless serves like a servant—that is such a lofty level that it requires the higher fear first. One can reach that kind of bond only after reaching the level of the higher fear. In other words, it requires an exceedingly great bittul. So to reach it, one must first pass through all the preceding levels. There is no other way. No one is born a son who is a servant. To become a son who is a servant, one first needs the training of the higher fear, and therefore one first needs the training of the lower fear in order to reach the higher fear. “If there is no fear, there is no wisdom; if there is no wisdom, there is no fear.” So even someone whose service is that of a son who is a servant first had the preceding stage of fear. It follows that everyone must begin with “the beginning, essence, and root of the service.” True, once he has reached this level after passing through all the stages of lower fear and higher fear, and has then attained the level of a son who is a servant, his service also has a movement of bittul. He has both son and servant together, but that is already the fully developed service. He reaches that stage only after all the earlier levels. But in the ordinary service discussed here in the Book of the Beinoni, where we are being told how to begin our service, there must first be the movement of fear: a servant. Not a servant who is a son, but a servant on his own, not a son who is

18:40 A servant, but a servant in his own right. There’s a well-known story about one of the tzaddikim. Who said it, I no longer remember. Yes, although he had studied... the Baal Shem Tov, or perhaps someone else—I don’t remember. One of the great sages of Israel said that although he studied all the intentions, all the aspects of a mitzvah and all its explanations, when it came time to perform the mitzvah, he worked on himself so that his service in fulfilling it would come from “Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us.” For him, performing the mitzvah would be an act of self-nullification, the kabbolas ol of a simple servant. In other words, although he felt love and closeness to Hashem and so on, all his effort went into performing the mitzvah out of servitude, out of a feeling of self-nullification before Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and not out of any feeling of love or the like. We need to explain this clearly, because it’s possible to misunderstand the Tanya here. So the Rebbe elaborates on this matter of fear. From what we’ve learned, one might think that if a person lacks kabbolas ol and fear of Hashem, then nothing he does is worth anything. One could understand the Tanya that way too: if I don’t have fear and kabbolas ol, then my whole life has no connection to holiness, as though the mitzvos are worth nothing—even if I have love of Hashem. That’s what the wording of the Tanya seems to imply: even if a person has love of Hashem, if he doesn’t have fear, it accomplishes nothing. That’s how it sounds, and that’s how the wording of the Zohar sounds. Nevertheless, the Rebbe emphasizes that this is not to be understood literally. Clearly, when a person performs a mitzvah, even if he had no kabbolas ol,

20:41 and no fear of Hashem, he has performed the mitzvah, and that has value too. That’s why, when you go on mivtzoim and put tefillin on fellow Jews, you don’t wait for them to have kabbolas ol and fear of Hashem. The same applies to each of us: not everyone has that feeling of kabbolas ol and fear every day. We often perform mitzvos without any feeling at all, and sometimes it’s not just that we lack feeling—we may even have motives that aren’t exactly for the sake of Hashem, personal interests. But yes, we have performed the mitzvah. So why is fear necessary, according to what we’ve learned here? If you lack fear and kabbolas ol, doesn’t that mean the whole effect isn’t drawn down? The Rebbe explains that the meaning is this: as we’ve been learning all along, kabbolas ol is inherent in the nature of the soul. This is the natural fear hidden in the heart of every Jew. In essence, a Jew has kabbolas ol—particularly as the Rambam teaches. As the Rebbe often cites, every Jew, in essence, wants to do Hashem’s will and does not want to rebel against Him. In other words, fear of Heaven is natural to a Jew; it is part of the nature of his soul. The thing is that it’s hidden, not revealed. So when a Jew performs a mitzvah, even if he has no conscious intention or feeling of kabbolas ol and fear, since he is a Jew and therefore does, in essence, have fear of Heaven, the mitzvah is certainly a mitzvah, and it has its effect. But because his kabbolas ol and fear of Heaven are hidden, held inside, what is drawn down is also not fully revealed. So when the Zohar says, “There is no service without fear,” it means that for the effect to be revealed, for it to be as it should be and shine openly, fear is needed. But the essential effect of the mitzvah

22:27 is certainly there. As the Rebbe writes in Hilchos Talmud Torah, even a complete wicked person, of whom it is said, “What right have you to recount My statutes?” must still study Torah, even if he has not yet done teshuvah, because the mitzvah itself is fulfilled in any case.