Likkutei Amarim, Chapter 29 - Part 4

00:00 We are here in Tanya, chapter 29, near the bottom of page 36. “But in a beinoni,” three lines from the bottom. So what has the Alter Rebbe been discussing until now? He explains the reckoning, the contemplation, that a person needs to undertake. He cites the Zohar, which explains how to break through a dullness of the heart: by breaking one’s heart. Just as a log must be split for the fire to catch in it, the materiality and coarseness of the heart must be broken so that the higher light—the light of the soul and the intellect—can shine within him. How does one break the heart, the kelipah, the spirit of the sitra achra? Through a broken heart, brought about by contemplating one’s standing and condition. So the first thing the Alter Rebbe explained here—or began to explain—is that a person should contemplate how the spirit of the sitra achra, the kelipah and sitra achra, is the beinoni himself. What is his essential nature? Although the beinoni’s thought, speech, and action are completely as they should be, when we speak about his essential nature, what is it? The beinoni’s essential nature is not his G-dly soul. It is his animal soul. That is his essential nature. That is why, when he says in the morning blessings, “The soul You have given within me is pure,” he says of the G-dly soul, “You have given it within me.” But what is my essential nature? My essential nature is the animal soul. With tzaddikim, a tzaddik has transformed himself completely, from one extreme to the other. For him, the G-dly soul has become his very essence. It has become his essential nature, and that is his essential nature even as it is revealed. The flesh of the body is flesh and blood. As we see with Hillel the Elder, who would say, “I am doing kindness for the lowly and poor one,” referring to something separate from himself. But his own essential nature was the G-dly soul. That was his true essential nature. Here the Alter Rebbe continues. “But in a beinoni,” three lines from the bottom: “Since the essence and essential nature of the vital animal soul, which comes from the sitra

02:14 achra and is clothed in his blood and flesh, has not been transformed into good.” We are speaking about the beinoni’s essence and essential nature. As we said, his animal soul still retains its full strength; it has not yet been transformed into good. For the most part, he practices iskafya, subduing it. The essential nature of his animal soul remains in full force and strength. “It is therefore the person himself.” So what is the person himself? Who is the person in the case of a beinoni? As we explained in the previous class, this means who he is as revealed, in terms of his inner faculties and his revealed faculties—not in terms of the yechidah, or his innermost essence. What is his essential nature as revealed? His essential nature as revealed is the animal soul, which is the kelipah and sitra achra. “If so, he is utterly distant from Hashem.” When he contemplates his essence and essential nature in this way, he is distant from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, utterly distant from Hashem. Now, in practice, he does observe Torah and mitzvos. Not merely that: he is a beinoni in thought, speech, and action, day and night. That concerns his conduct, what he actually does. But this self-reckoning is not about what he does. It is about where I stand, where I am, where my essential nature lies. Not what am I doing, but what is my essential nature? And in terms of his essential nature, he is utterly distant from Hashem, completely distant from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. The Alter Rebbe then explains why he is utterly distant from Hashem. He adds a precise point here. Since the beinoni’s animal soul is still strong—even though in practice he has no desire to commit a sin, because he is a beinoni—the Alter Rebbe explains why he is nevertheless utterly distant from Hashem. What is the reasoning? “For the desiring faculty of his animal soul can also desire forbidden things.” Because his animal soul is still strong, it has that capacity.

04:25 That is the Alter Rebbe’s precise wording: “can.” By virtue of his animal soul, he can desire forbidden things. He has the possibility, the capacity; it is not out of the question for him. That is the whole point here. For a tzaddik, it is out of the question. There is no room for anything that is not G-dliness. None of that is at all part of his essential nature. For the beinoni, kelipah is not repulsive. So the very fact that he has the capacity and the possibility of thinking about, wanting, and desiring forbidden things that are contrary to Hashem’s will means that, in his essential nature, he is utterly distant from Hashem. In other words, from the standpoint of the truth of G-dliness, anything that is not G-dliness is utterly out of the question. Anything that is not G-dliness is abhorrent and hated. To Hakadosh Boruch Hu, anything of kelipah and sitra achra is utterly repulsive. Therefore, for a tzaddik, whose essential nature has become G-dliness—his G-dly soul is simply his life and his essential nature—there is no room for anything that is not G-dliness. Consequently, anything that is abhorrent and hated to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, anything that is out of the question, is out of the question for the tzaddik as well. But for the beinoni it is not out of the question. The proof is that he has the capacity, the possibility, of being drawn to forbidden things. That itself shows that, for him, G-dliness is not the only thing. Other things are not out of the question for him. That itself is the distance meant by “utterly distant from Hashem.” “For the desiring faculty of his animal soul can also desire things”

06:14 that are forbidden, that are contrary to the will of Hashem, blessed be He. Those things are contrary to His will. Even though he does not actually commit any sin, G-d forbid. We are speaking here about a beinoni. As we discussed earlier, a beinoni does not even have a desire to commit a sin. That was a basic point the Alter Rebbe made in chapter 12: the desire to commit a sin does not arise in the beinoni’s mind. But a thought can arise in his mind—not about committing a sin, but about the forbidden thing itself. It is not out of the question for him to think about something forbidden. He will not do it in practice; he will overcome it, and so on. As soon as the thought comes to him, he pushes it away with both hands. But the very fact that a thought about something forbidden is not out of the question for him shows that G-dliness is not the only thing for him. That itself means he is utterly distant from G-dliness. “For although he does not actually commit any sin, G-d forbid, those things are not truly repulsive to him as they are to tzaddikim,” as stated above in chapter 12. The very fact that they are not repulsive to him shows where his essential nature lies. His essential nature lies in kelipah, in sitra achra. That is why things contrary to holiness are not out of the question for him. And in this respect—just in this particular point, that kelipah and sitra achra are not out of the question for him and are not repulsive to him—the contemplation is: Where does my essential nature lie, and where do I stand? “And in this he is worse, more loathsome and more abhorrent than unclean animals.” This leads a person to recognize and feel that in this particular respect he is worse even than—worse than animals. In other words, the Alter Rebbe takes this reckoning in a remarkable new direction. Here the Alter Rebbe takes a principle he discussed in chapter 24 regarding sins. Chapter

08:09 In chapter 24, the Alter Rebbe spoke about how a Jew who commits a sin is worse than non-kosher animals. Yes, that was certainly in chapter 24. There he was speaking about sin: a Jew who commits a transgression is worse than non-kosher animals and so on, because they cannot go against G-d’s will, while he has gone against G-d’s will. That is in regard to a transgression. Here the Alter Rebbe takes that explanation to a much subtler place, speaking about a beinoni. He does not commit transgressions, but when he takes stock of himself, he asks: Where is my essential self? Not what do I do in practice, as we said. In terms of my essential nature, I am worse than animals too. “And in this he is worse, more repulsive and more loathsome than non-kosher animals, vermin and creeping creatures, as mentioned above. As it is written, ‘But I am a worm and not a man,’ and so on.” Wait, what does it say, “But I am a worm and not a man”? King David says, “But I am a worm.” In chapter 22 of Tehillim: “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people.” So what is King David saying? He compares himself to a worm. Of course King David is not speaking about himself; he is speaking about the entire Jewish people. King David himself was at the level of “my heart is hollow within me,” but King David recited Tehillim on behalf of all the Jewish people. Chapter 22 speaks about a Jew in a lowly state, who says, “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by the people.” What is the point of “I am a worm”? A worm lives in places of, of, of garbage. A worm moves around in refuse; that is its place. So, “I am a worm.” As far as I am concerned, kelipah and the sitra achra—which, as the Alter Rebbe said earlier in Tanya, are like excrement, something filthy, something dirty—are not repulsive to the beinoni.

10:10 From the standpoint of the soul, of the soul’s level, I belong in a place of refuse, and therefore, “I am a worm.” Why am I worse than a worm? He says, “And in this he is worse and more repulsive.” The explanation is straightforward: “Scorned by men and despised by the people.” When a person behaves like a worm, that is worse; it is a disgrace. When a worm is in refuse, that is its place. It is not doing anything contrary to G-d’s will. A worm’s place is in refuse. Hakadosh Boruch Hu created the worm to move about in filth. That is its place, where it lives and survives. But when a person behaves like a worm, he is “scorned by men and despised by the people.” It is a disgrace for a human being. For a worm it is no disgrace, and that is why he is worse than animals, vermin and creeping creatures. For them, being there is simply their nature; that is their place. But when a human being is in such a place, it is the ultimate degradation. So the point here is to explain to us that even a beinoni, in his inner state, in terms of the nature of his soul, can be in a state where he is worse than vermin and animals. Yes, what did you want to ask? So that is the point here. I remember once hearing an idea like this. There is a maamar of the Frierdiker Rebbe that discusses such a point. [unclear] The Frierdiker Rebbe sometimes makes this point in a maamar: a person who behaves like an animal is worse than an animal. When an animal behaves like an animal, that is its form, its nature. But when a person behaves like an animal—after all, that is you; you are a human being. So, all of this—[unclear] goes into this at length. There are several maamarim. For example—sorry, there is—

12:21 Ah, in the Kuntreisim there is a maamar from 5687, a maamar on Geulah, one of the maamarim around [unclear] 5687. In Hemshech 5672, the Rebbe Rashab goes into this question at length several times. The distinction of a human being? In other words, this is about a beinoni taking stock of himself. By his very nature, a person should be intelligent, spiritually inclined, drawn upward, and so on. If a person behaves like an animal, that is much worse than an animal, because that is the animal’s nature. A person who behaves like an animal is worse than an animal. Right? So this is a point for the beinoni to consider when taking stock of himself, so that his heart will be broken. What does the Alter Rebbe add here in parentheses? He says: But the beinoni also has love for Hashem. He does not merely behave properly in practice, in thought, speech and action, while his heart remains deep within the kelipos, G-d forbid. He, too, is stirred to love Hashem. He is a beinoni who serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Right? And he also has—we said in earlier chapters that the beinoni has the aspect of “in your heart,” the aspect of love. So the Alter Rebbe comes to clarify that too. The Alter Rebbe says in parentheses: “Even when his divine soul gains strength within him to arouse love for Hashem during prayer,” when he is stirred to love Hashem, “it is not completely true in the fullest sense, since it passes and disappears after prayer, as explained above at the end of chapter 13.” Since he loses it after prayer, that shows that it is not completely true in the fullest sense. What is the point here? The point is... what the Alter Rebbe is saying here is that, as we discussed in earlier chapters, the Alter Rebbe spoke in chapter 13 about truth and about “truthful lips.”

14:30 “Truthful lips are established forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment.” If it is not established forever, then it is considered to last “only a moment.” Something that comes and goes, that does not endure—even while it is present, it is not considered true. As is well known, as we learn in the maamarim, there are “streams that run dry.” Something may exist for a time but then cease; even while it is there, it is called a stream that runs dry. The same applies in serving Hashem. In chapter 13, the Alter Rebbe said about the beinoni’s service as compared with the tzaddik’s: since the beinoni’s love is present only during prayer, afterward he once again becomes involved in worldly matters, and the love fades somewhat once more. So that shows that even during prayer, his contemplation is not completely true in the fullest sense. The Alter Rebbe’s precise wording here is “not completely true in the fullest sense.” Why does the Alter Rebbe emphasize that it is not completely true in the fullest sense? Because if we look at chapter 13, the Alter Rebbe says there that it is considered genuinely true. One of the novel points the Alter Rebbe makes in Tanya chapter 13 is about the beinoni’s love. The Alter Rebbe says that compared with the tzaddik’s service, which is completely true in the fullest sense, the beinoni’s service is not considered true service, since it exists only during prayer. Afterward, the love fades again. “Nevertheless, I apply to their love during prayer the verse, ‘Truthful lips are established forever.’” The Alter Rebbe makes a novel point here: I do call the beinoni’s service during prayer “truthful lips,” at least. Why does the Alter Rebbe say that? Why do I call it “truthful lips”? Because he has the ability to arouse this love at any time. In essence, the beinoni can live with this love twenty-four hours a day,

16:22 [unclear] throughout the day. If he maintained the state of mind he has during prayer all day, he could love Hashem all day long, and at any moment he can arouse that love. In other words, by the nature of his soul, he is always capable of loving Hashem, and therefore it is considered “truthful lips.” So it is very interesting how the Alter Rebbe makes the very same calculation in reverse here. In chapter 13, the Alter Rebbe wants to elevate the beinoni, so he says: “I apply to their love during prayer the verse, ‘Truthful lips are established forever.’” Since he can arouse love for Hashem at any time, it is considered love for Hashem. But here the Alter Rebbe uses that same calculation in reverse. Since, in your essential nature, kelipah is not utterly out of the question for you—and the proof is that after prayer the love goes away, and desires for sin can be stirred again—that shows that in your essential nature you still have a connection to it. So it is not completely true in the fullest sense. That is no contradiction. There is genuine truth, and there is complete truth in the fullest sense. If we are speaking of complete truth in the fullest sense, that exists only in a tzaddik. Complete truth in the fullest sense means that G-dliness has become his very essence. As we discussed, G-dliness is something that cannot be otherwise. That is called complete truth in the fullest sense: G-dliness has become the only reality for him. Anything that is not G-dliness has no place. That is called complete truth in the fullest sense. So if that is truly how it is with G-dliness—it is the true reality, a reality in which a non-G-dly reality is impossible—then what difference does it make whether you are now praying, out on the street or somewhere else? For a person who has reached this level, G-dliness has become something essential to him. It is his very nature. So that lasts twenty-four hours. Just as there is in the physical world. We can

18:12 When we see physical things that touch our very being, we don’t need to contemplate them. There are things a person naturally loves, things a person naturally finds repulsive, and things a person naturally fears. Harmful animals, for instance. A person is naturally afraid of them. You don’t have to stop and think, “This frightens me.” It’s part of your very being, part of a person’s natural instinct. Fire is frightening. What example does the Rebbe give in connection with sins? A person won’t jump into a fire, because by nature it frightens him. He doesn’t need to contemplate it. That’s how it is with something naturally harmful. So if I truly grasp that anything that isn’t G-dliness is harmful, it should be utterly out of the question for me. The very fact that it isn’t shows that this isn’t the full truth. The fact that the love doesn’t remain after davening means you have to generate that love; it isn’t part of your essence. You have to keep renewing it. So it isn’t the absolute truth. But it is his own fullest truth. It’s the most he can attain. This is what the Alter Rebbe says in chapter 13. The Alter Rebbe speaks about the fullest truth for each person according to his level. Everyone has his own fullest truth. What does that mean? What is the most you can attain? A beinoni, by virtue of the level of his soul, cannot attain the kind of feeling a tzaddik has. He doesn’t have it, because he has the soul of a beinoni, not the soul of a tzaddik. Given the reality of his soul, he cannot

20:00 attain more than that. But what is the most he can attain? He can awaken love for Hashem through contemplation. So if he works at that, it is called his fullest truth. That’s what the Alter Rebbe says in chapter 13. Here, though, the Alter Rebbe wants to explain the opposite. Here, the purpose of contemplation is to bring about a broken heart. A person needs to contemplate what the actual truth is—not what’s true relative to my level, but what the situation really is. Sometimes a person has to face the truth squarely, deep within himself, and contemplate what his own real truth is in light of the true state of things. That is what the Alter Rebbe is saying here. The fact that the love passes after davening shows that, in his essence, he is still in a place opposed to holiness. All of this is the first contemplation the Alter Rebbe gives to help a person begin the work of breaking his heart. Regarding the verse, “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by people,” there’s a story, a vort, that people tell. There was a righteous Jew in the holy city of Jerusalem whom I had the privilege of knowing. His name was Hillel Barbi. Hillel Barbi was a holy Jew. He also has grandchildren in Chabad—a chassidic family, with quite a few grandchildren who are Chabad chassidim. He was very close to the Rebbe. They say that once he went into a wedding where a meal was being served, and someone cast aspersions on the food. Someone very religious—excuse me, ultra-religious, a person with great fear of Heaven—came in and started saying that perhaps there was some issue with the food. He raised some doubt about it. Hillel Barbi came in. He was a holy man, set apart from the crowd, and so on, someone for whom imagined honor had no place whatsoever. He was completely above that. He sensed what was going on, asked for a plate, and began to eat. Everyone looked at him, wondering what was happening. Then he said a vort. He said, “It is written, ‘But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by people.’ Better to eat the worm”—meaning, regarding kashrus, yes?—“but not to scorn a man,” not to embarrass someone. The man had worked hard and prepared a wedding. He had done the best he could. Why embarrass him? He wanted to teach the chassidim a lesson from “But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by people”: better to eat a worm than to disgrace a person.

22:20 So however meticulous you are about kashrus, you also have to be meticulous about not disgracing or embarrassing a person. Of course, you have to know when and how to apply this, but it’s a very important lesson. Sometimes we have to be careful with our fear of Heaven and our frumkeit, because that very frumkeit can lead us to embarrass someone, look down on him, or make him feel that he’s done something wrong. Sometimes it’s better not to be quite so stringent about kashrus. You have to know when and how. Sometimes it’s better to be less stringent about kashrus and less careless about another person’s dignity and about middos. That’s the point.