Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 45 - Part 2

00:00 We began chapter 45 last week. Here the Alter Rebbe teaches how we can come to love Hashem and observe Torah and mitzvos for their own sake, with a connection to G-dliness. But through which attribute? Through the attribute of compassion. As we explained in the previous class, until now the Alter Rebbe has spoken about chesed and gevurah, love and awe—the two lines. Now he explains compassion. We saw last time that this, too, is connected with love and awe. Compassion arouses love, as he explains later in the chapter. So how do we arouse compassion? What is involved? “First, to arouse in his mind great compassion before Hashem.” We’ll start here, two lines from the bottom. A person must first arouse in his mind great compassion before Hashem “for the spark of G-dliness that gives life to his soul.” He must arouse great compassion before Hakadosh Boruch Hu for his spark, for his soul—the Divine spark that gives his soul life. What does “first, to arouse in his mind” mean? There are several ways to understand it. The word “first” implies that something else comes afterward. What does it mean here? Some explain that the Alter Rebbe is about to describe several things for which one should feel compassion. First he discusses the Divine soul and the very fact of its descent; afterward, he discusses the further descent caused by sins and transgressions. So there are several stages, and the Alter Rebbe writes “first”: first think about the descent itself, and afterward about its details. It is not only the soul’s descent below that calls for compassion, but also

02:39 its further descent through sins and transgressions—descent after descent. That is one meaning of “first”: begin by thinking about the descent, then go into greater detail. Others focus on the wording “first, to arouse in his mind.” It begins in thought. At first it is only something he thinks about; afterward it reaches action as well, as the Alter Rebbe writes later about the garments of thought, speech, and action, and how it extends into all the details of the body. In other words, it begins in thought, then continues until it affects all his garments—thought, speech, and action. We can suggest another explanation, too, based on what we discussed in the previous class. The Alter Rebbe is not explaining only compassion here; he is explaining how to arouse love. But the way to arouse love is not through contemplation of deep concepts and mysteries, as it usually is. It is through contemplating compassion, and from compassion he will come to love. Once he feels compassion for his soul, then “Yaakov, who redeemed Avraham”: from the attribute of compassion he comes to the attribute of chesed, as the Alter Rebbe explains at the end of the chapter. Accordingly, what does “first, to arouse in his mind great compassion” mean? First he arouses great compassion. But the intention is that this great compassion for his soul will afterward bring him to a revelation of love. Through

04:38 this, love of Hakadosh Boruch Hu is aroused within him, and he comes to the attribute of chesed—the aspect of abundant love, as the Alter Rebbe explains later in the chapter. So those are several ways to understand the word “first.” Now the Alter Rebbe begins to explain in detail what a person should contemplate in order to arouse great compassion: “Before Hashem, for the spark of G-dliness that gives life to his soul.” What does that mean? The Alter Rebbe uses this phrase several times in Tanya, including in chapter 31. It relates to a teaching quoted in maamarim. Some of you may have learned it recently in maamarim for Purim: a passage from Eitz Chaim concerning the Divine soul. There is a well-known expression cited in several places in Chassidus: a “spark of the Creator” is enclothed in a “created spark,” which is called yechidah. Eitz Chaim says that a spark of the Creator is enclothed in a created spark; it is the created spark that is called yechidah. Now, although the Alter Rebbe generally does not discuss yechidah in Tanya—he speaks only of nefesh, ruach, and neshamah—he nevertheless alludes to it with the phrase “the spark of G-dliness that gives life to his soul.” “Spark of G-dliness” could mean either the spark of the Creator or the created spark. Either interpretation is possible. This is not the place to examine the precise distinction; it is not relevant here. We’ll leave it for another time. Anyone interested can look into what “spark of the Creator” and “created spark” mean, and what it means for the former to be enclothed in the latter. It is explained in a Purim maamar

06:29 [unclear]. There are also several other places where the Rebbe explains it. The Alter Rebbe then goes on to describe its descent. He now details why this calls for great compassion: “For it descended from its source, from the Life of life, blessed be He.” The inner spark “descended.” From where? From its source, from the Life of life, blessed be He, “Who fills all worlds.” The Alter Rebbe explains in detail what “the Life of life, blessed be He” means: “Who fills all worlds and encompasses all worlds, and before Whom everything is considered as nothing.” All these phrases describe aspects of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s greatness, and consequently the greatness of the soul. At its source, the soul was included in the Life of life and in these Divine aspects: “Who fills all worlds and encompasses all worlds, and before Whom everything is considered as nothing.” From that level, from those lofty Divine aspects, it “became enclothed in the skin of the serpent.” It descended below and became enclothed in a body, which is called the “skin of the serpent.” What does that expression mean? It is Aramaic for “the serpent’s skin”: mishcha means skin, and chivya means serpent—the primordial serpent. We know that the entire reality of kelipah and the sitra achra is referred to in the Torah as the primordial serpent, from which all the other evil in the world came. And the body itself is called the serpent’s skin. Why? There are two explanations. In Eitz Chaim, Rabbi Chaim Vital cites one explanation in the name of the Arizal for why the body is called the serpent’s skin. But in a commentary, he gives another explanation, and here specifically that

08:32 That is not the explanation in Eitz Chaim. Here it means something else. First of all, what does it mean in Eitz Chaim? Eitz Chaim asks why the body is called mishcha d’chivya—specifically the skin, the hide of the snake, and not the snake itself. What does that mean? Eitz Chaim explains it this way: The snake itself belongs to the three impure kelipos. The flesh of the snake—and this is also true according to halachah—belongs to the three impure kelipos. Their initials are G-M-R. That is the snake: an impure creature, belonging to the three impure kelipos. But the skin of the snake, its outer covering, has a different status. In spiritual terms—if we can put it that way—Rabbi Chaim Vital explains it more in terms of its spiritual significance. What is the function of skin physically? On the one hand, it is on a person’s body, but it is not part of the body itself. The skin’s function is to protect the body and separate it from the outside world. That is true physically as well. Medically speaking, when a person has a wound, G-d forbid, it has to be protected so that it does not become infected. Once there is even a small break in the skin, dirt, bacteria, and all kinds of harmful things in the world can enter the body, and that is dangerous. So the skin’s function is to separate: to act as a shield, a barrier. It follows that, on the one hand, the skin is attached to the flesh, but it is not part of the flesh. It is, as it were, an intermediary between the flesh of the body and what is outside it. Similarly, when we come to the subject of kelipah, the animal soul and body of a Jew—

10:25 It is not just a matter of his body. As it says in Tanya, briefly in chapter 7 and at length in chapter 1, a Jew’s body and animal soul come from kelipas nogah. This is the difference between a Jew and a non-Jew in their physical makeup: the body and life-force of a non-Jew come from the three impure kelipos, whereas those of a Jew come from kelipas nogah. And just as kelipas nogah is an intermediary between the impure kelipos and holiness, as Tanya explains at the beginning, so too, a Jew’s body is not the flesh of the snake; it is only the snake’s skin. That is why it is called mishcha d’chivya, the skin of the snake. It is not the snake itself. That is the basis of this explanation, which is cited in the name of the Arizal. He also points out that this is true according to halachah. As is well known, the Torah identifies eight creeping creatures. It is very interesting, in connection with Likkutei Sipurim and Tanya, that when it comes to those eight creatures, the halachah is that “their skin is like their flesh.” The skin, the hide, of those eight creatures has the same status as the flesh itself. With regard to the laws of ritual impurity, it has the same status of impurity. But the snake is not one of those eight creatures. So according to halachah, if you touch the skin of a snake, you do not become ritually impure. Although the snake’s body, its flesh, conveys ritual impurity, its skin does not. In other words, we see in halachah too that there is a difference between the skin of the snake and its flesh, even with regard to the laws of impurity and purity. In any case, that is the explanation given according to Kabbalah. But the Rebbe says that here in Tanya, this cannot be the meaning, because according to that explanation—

12:07 When you say mishcha d’chivya, what are you emphasizing? An advantage, not a shortcoming. When you say that a Jew’s body is mishcha d’chivya, you are not emphasizing its shortcoming. On the contrary, you are emphasizing that it is not the snake itself, not its flesh, but only its skin. In other words, you are emphasizing that it is on a higher level and can therefore be refined and elevated. Here, though, the Alter Rebbe uses the expression mishcha d’chivya to emphasize the descent, to arouse great compassion through contemplating how the soul descended: it was with the Life of life, the blessed Ein Sof, and it descended into mishcha d’chivya. Here the Alter Rebbe wants to emphasize not the advantage, but the shortcoming. So it is difficult to say that by mishcha d’chivya the Alter Rebbe means to emphasize the advantage of a Jew’s body. The Rebbe therefore says that the meaning here is much simpler. What does mishcha d’chivya mean? And why is the human body, specifically, called skin—called mishcha d’chivya? The Rebbe says it is simple: skin is a garment. That is what skin is. Mishcha simply means skin; it is like a garment for the body. In the same way, the body is a garment for the soul. As it says in Iyov, “You clothed me with skin and flesh.” We look at the body in relation to the soul: the body is considered the soul’s garment. So that is what it means here when it says that the soul was clothed in mishcha d’chivya. It became clothed, and the body is a kind of garment—mishcha. Just as skin is a garment, the body is a garment. But what kind of garment? Mishcha d’chivya: a garment associated with a snake, with the primordial serpent. So here the Alter Rebbe does not mean to focus on the particular quality of skin—

14:02 On what it has going for it. Quite the opposite: he means to emphasize its shortcoming, the enormity of the soul’s descent into the body. The body is mishcha, skin, a garment. And what kind of garment? One associated with a snake, with the primordial serpent. That is the enormity of the descent: the soul was with the Life of life, the blessed Ein Sof, at the very highest level—He who fills all worlds and encompasses all worlds, and before Whom everything is considered as nothing—and from there, where did it descend? It descended to a place of mishcha d’chivya, far from the King’s presence. The body here in this world is utterly distant from the King’s presence. It is in a state of distance, as far from the King’s presence as can possibly be. For this world is the very lowest of the coarse kelipos, and so on. Where does the soul find itself? In this world, which is the very lowest of the coarse kelipos. This is the domain of kelipah; even among the kelipos themselves, it is the very lowest of the coarse kelipos, and so on. Here the Alter Rebbe adds another point. We can see how, in just a few words, the Alter Rebbe explains both extremes in detail: the very highest and the very lowest. On the one hand, in speaking of the distance, he stresses several details about the exalted source of the soul above. He does not merely say that the soul is above. He emphasizes the very highest level: the Life of life, the blessed Ein Sof. And within that, he emphasizes several details: He fills all worlds and encompasses all worlds, and before Him everything is considered as nothing. These are multiple points of emphasis, each higher than the last. The soul is connected with all these levels, showing how wondrously exalted it is above. On the other hand, the same is true at the opposite extreme, in its descent. Here too, the Alter Rebbe emphasizes more than one point; he does not merely say that the soul descended below. He speaks

15:57 There are several details. There is the descent itself, down below, but within that there are several details. Where does it descend? Into a body, and the body is “the skin of the serpent.” That is because of the very nature of the body: the soul is clothed in a body. Even if the body were in a higher world, even if it were a more refined body, the very fact that the body and soul are together is a descent on account of the body. It is the skin of the serpent; it is connected with kelipah. Then he adds something further concerning the place. Where is the body? It is in this physical world, where the root of the kelipos is found—the lowest level of the coarse kelipos. It is not merely a place of kelipah; among the kelipos themselves, it is the lowest level of the coarse kelipos. As the Alter Rebbe explained earlier in Tanya, in chapters 6 and 24, the kelipah in this world is of the worst kind. This world, for the kelipos have their root... In other words, this is the lowest level of the coarse kelipos. Among the kelipos themselves, it is the coarseness of the kelipos—the worst part of kelipah, its coarsest and most material part. As explained in Chassidus, there are several levels of kelipos. The kelipos begin in the world of Atzilus—the world of Atzilus. Not within Atzilus itself; it is in Beriah. As it says in Chassidus, in the world of Beriah the evil is a minority; in the world of Yetzirah it is half; in the world of Asiyah it is the majority; and in physical Asiyah it is almost entirely evil. It follows that the lowest level of the coarse kelipos is specifically this physical world. So that adds still more to the descent, and the Rebbe adds still more and says, “etc.” What is the precise meaning of “etc.”? After all, in Tanya even an “etc.” is precise. We see in the Rebbe’s list of corrections that the Rebbe often writes that the “etc.” should be removed,

17:45 because, as is well known, even the Rebbe’s “etc.” and all such details are absolutely precise. So the Rebbe asks here: What more could there be, below even the coarse kelipos, that the Rebbe adds the word “etc.”? The Rebbe writes that we can say he is referring to chapter 36—specifically chapter 36 of Tanya. In chapter 36 of Tanya, the Alter Rebbe writes—and we will come to the subject of “the lowest”—this is his wording: “This physical and material world is the very lowest level, so low that there is none lower than it in terms of the concealment of His blessed light, and it is a doubled and redoubled darkness.” And the Alter Rebbe adds: “To the point that it is full of kelipos and sitra achra, which actually oppose Hashem, saying, ‘I, and nothing besides me.’” So in chapter 36 the Alter Rebbe adds another point, beyond the matter of kelipos, even coarse kelipos and all that. There is something still worse: what he calls actually opposing Hashem by saying, “I, and nothing besides me.” The Alter Rebbe explained in chapter 24 that even the kelipos, even the lowest kelipos, ultimately contain some spark of Divine holiness. Even kelipos and sitra achra do not completely deny Hashem’s existence. “I, and nothing besides me”—that does not apply to them. Even a kelipah, as the saying goes, “calls Him the G-d of gods.” Even the greatest kelipah senses that there is Divinity. Although it senses itself as a distinct, substantial existence, not as nothingness, and all that, it nevertheless acknowledges that there is something above it. Granted, to it that higher power is only the “G-d of gods,” with all that implies. But “I, and nothing besides me” is something new, found only in this physical world, because within this world itself there is already

19:49 something worse—worse even than kelipah. As the Rebbe writes there, through a person’s sin, he can reach a state worse than kelipah, to the point of “The mosquito preceded you.” That is the point of “I, and nothing besides me.” He does not merely sense himself as a distinct, substantial existence; he completely denies the entire existence of Divinity. “I, and nothing besides me.” That is what the Rebbe adds here with the “etc.” So from here we see both sides of the coin: on the one hand, the soul’s great elevation when it was above; on the other, the extent of its lowliness and disadvantage down below. It is specifically this that brings out the great pity, the abundant mercy, for the soul. This is readily understood. When speaking about arousing mercy, a person needs to... In simple terms, yes, when we speak about mercy—as the Gemara says, and we will come to mercy in its plain sense—we are speaking about a person. This is discussed in halachah, in the laws concerning a woman’s suffering and [unclear] in the Talmud, and all the laws of compensation. They discuss it there. It is not the same when someone is poor and downtrodden, right? That is, there is a difference, and toward whom you... It is not the same when someone... What we see is this: when you pity someone, then of course a person in a state of poverty and hunger, or someone with some problem or lack, naturally arouses pity. But certainly, the more you know about that person’s merits and where he was before, the more it changes your pity. It is not the same as pitying someone who has always been in that state, who has always been poor and hungry. But someone who was once in a more elevated or better position,

21:32 who was in a good situation—the more you know in detail how elevated his former state was, the more mercy you feel when you learn how low he has fallen. And within that, the more you see his lowliness—the more you sense the upper extreme of how he was before, and the more you sense the lower extreme of how he is now—the more all of this adds to and intensifies your pity. So here too, in explaining how to arouse abundant mercy for my soul, the more a person contemplates the soul’s great elevation, its great elevation in its root and source, on the one hand—going into detail, point by point, to sense just what level the soul was on, how the soul is inherently bound up with ... may He be blessed, and ... and all of them, as it is on the one hand—and, at the same time, its descent: not just a descent, but a descent in every detail, all the way down to this physical world, the lowest ... this physical world. So these two extremes specifically arouse abundant mercy to a greater degree, more powerfully. In particular, it says in a maamar—I am not sure if there is a [unclear] or something; anyway, it is one of the maamarim from those later years, as far as I remember. I do remember it. It was in the mid-5740s, 5745 or 5746. The Rebbe spoke then about a point very similar to this. The Rebbe cited the well-known expression found in the sefarim, “from a lofty roof to a deep pit.” When Chassidus speaks about the soul’s descent below, it uses the expression “from a lofty roof to a deep pit.” The Rebbe explained there, too, that the emphasis here

23:21 is on this very point. We do not simply say “from a roof to a pit,” which already describes a descent between two extremes. There it was on a roof—a roof is a roof—and now, by contrast, it is in a pit. Those are two extremes. But we add “a lofty roof” and “a deep pit.” The Rebbe pointed out that there are four details here: roof and pit, lofty and deep. In other words, the roof itself is a lofty roof. There, it was not merely on a roof, at a high level, but on a lofty roof, high above high. That corresponds precisely to the wording here: the soul is “the life of life.” There is life, and there is the life of life—a higher aspect within life itself—meaning that the soul is on a level higher than all the other aspects of its root. And then there must be a descent. We do not simply say “a pit,” but “a deep pit.” As I recall—if I am not mistaken; I would have to look it up inside, and I forgot to check—the Rebbe explains there that the roof is Atzilus, while the lofty roof is above Atzilus. So then there is the descent to Beriah and Atzilus. Atzilus is above Atzilus. And as for the deep pit, the pit is this world—that is already a pit—and “deep” refers to the kelipos. That is what the body is in relation to the kelipos. We will look and see how this fits together. We will check one more letter afterward. Incidentally, there are two extremes here as well. There is a maamar of the Alter Rebbe in Likkutei Torah, of the Alter Rebbe in Likkutei Torah, a maamar on Bamidbar, Parshas Bamidbar. I do not remember its number in Likkutei Torah, Parshas Bamidbar. There is something very interesting there. The Alter Rebbe writes that Yaakov represents the attribute of mercy. We are speaking now about Yaakov, the attribute of mercy. So the Alter Rebbe writes there in Likkutei Torah that there are three levels in Yaakov. There is Yaakov himself,

25:29 There are the tribes of Yaakov, the twelve tribes, and there are the seventy souls. In the verse, we find them all associated with Yaakov our forefather. Sometimes it speaks of Yaakov himself; sometimes of the twelve tribes, who are also connected to Yaakov—the tribes of Yaakov; and sometimes of the seventy souls, who are also called Yaakov’s descendants: “These are the names of the children of Israel,” seventy souls. So the Alter Rebbe explains that these three levels are three levels of compassion, since Yaakov represents the attribute of compassion. What are these three levels? The first is compassion for the very fact of the descent. Even if the soul were in the world of Atzilus—even if it is in Atzilus—compared to how it was in the Infinite Light, it is a descent. He explains there at length that even the highest world cannot compare to the truth, to the Infinite Light, so this is an immense descent. The tzimtzum, the first tzimtzum—the whole idea that a world could come into being from the Infinite Light, even the highest world—is already a great descent, and that too calls for compassion. We must arouse compassion over that descent, over being distanced from the truth, from the source, from G-dliness, from Atzilus. Then there is a lower level of enclothing: the soul’s descent into this world, its entry into a body. Even compared to the world of Atzilus, that is a descent, as explained here. There is the experience of being in a body, with all that life in this world entails. Then there is a third matter: the descent a person brings about through transgressions. We haven’t learned that inside yet; the Alter Rebbe will bring it shortly as well. That is a person’s worst descent. In a body, he can fulfill Torah and mitzvos. When he is

27:33 a soul in a body and also does not do what he needs to do in life, he is not fulfilling his shlichus in the world. Then the compassion is even greater. So the Alter Rebbe explains that these three matters correspond to the three levels of Yaakov, the children of Yaakov, and the seventy souls. They are three aspects of compassion. Someone once asked the Rebbe a question about this passage in Tanya. Now, the question isn’t as striking as the answer—that’s what’s interesting. Here is what someone asked the Rebbe: In chapter 45, the Alter Rebbe begins by saying that the foundation of abundant compassion is the attribute of Yaakov our forefather, peace be upon him. But then he goes on to speak about the soul’s descent into a body and the descent brought about by transgressions, and so on. According to Likkutei Torah, that is not the level of Yaakov; it is the level of the seventy souls, which seems to be a lower aspect. Yaakov represents compassion at its highest level, compassion for the very descent into the world of Atzilus. By contrast, compassion for a soul descending into a body, and still more, compassion on account of sins and transgressions, belongs to the level of the seventy souls. So why does Tanya say here that this is Yaakov’s attribute? Well, the Rebbe explained that it is not really a difficulty, because all three levels are connected with Yaakov. They are not three separate things. It is Yaakov at three levels: Yaakov as he is in himself, Yaakov as he is revealed in the twelve tribes, and Yaakov in the seventy souls. But, broadly speaking, all of it is called Yaakov’s attribute. That was the Rebbe’s initial answer. Then the Rebbe makes a beautiful point, which brings us to what we were just discussing: when we look at the Tanya here, we see that the Alter Rebbe

29:19 includes all three matters. The Alter Rebbe speaks from one extreme to the other. He begins with “the Life of life, the blessed Infinite One,” which is the highest aspect, and even at that point there is already cause for compassion. Then there is the body, “the skin of a snake,” and beyond that there are sins and transgressions, as he will explain later. So the Alter Rebbe is actually writing about all three levels here, bringing them together. One more thought from the Rebbe’s father, Rabbi Levi, in his explanations of Tanya. His explanations are harder than Tanya itself, but in any event, he makes a beautiful point here about something we discussed in the previous class: the “straight path.” The middle line is the straight path—the attribute of Tiferes, on the middle line, which goes from the very highest to the very lowest. This too relates to what we were just discussing: compassion emphasizes both extremes, the descent from the very highest to the very lowest. It is specifically through these two extremes—the middle line drawing from the highest point and descending to the lowest, “the central bar reaching from end to end”—that compassion is aroused. But there is another aspect of compassion: it is the middle line that joins the two lines of Chessed and Gevurah. Their integration—that is Tiferes. Yaakov’s attribute includes both of the other attributes, Avraham’s and Yitzchak’s, Chessed and Gevurah. On the one hand, there is the soul’s deficiency, which relates to Gevurah; on the other, there is the arousal of compassion, a movement of Chessed. Both are present here.

31:00 We need to keep both things in mind together. So the Rebbe’s father, Rabbi Levi, says that on this basis we can understand the meaning of the word rachamim, compassion. He offers this beautiful thought: the word rachamim contains two parts, reish-ches and mayim. The letters reish-ches have the same numerical value as Yitzchak, who represents the line of Gevurah, as we discussed. And mayim, water, represents Chessed. We already discussed water and its connection to Chessed in the previous chapter. So the word rachamim contains the integration of the two lines: reish-ches, with the numerical value of Yitzchak, representing Gevurah; and mayim, water, representing Chessed, the attribute of Avraham.