Tanya Chapter 19 - Part 7

00:00 Page 1a, column b, at the top. Until now, the Alter Rebbe has answered three of the questions he asked at the beginning of chapter 18. One question remains unanswered, and he is now going to answer it at the end of chapter 19. You remember that in chapter 18, the Alter Rebbe asked four questions about the hidden love that every Jew inherits from our forefathers. His first question was: What is the source of this love? He answered that its source is the chochmah of the soul, where the light of the Ein Sof shines. He also asked: What is this love about? What does it seek? What is its aim? He answered that in chapter 19: it is the desire to be absorbed in the Ein Sof, to become nullified, to be nothing. A Jew naturally wants to be absorbed in the Ein Sof. Then he asked: How can this be an inheritance? How can you pass down love? Love is not something that can be inherited. He explained that this love is innate. It is not just a love one happens to have; it is an essential, inborn love, and that is why it can be inherited. And the third question he still has not answered. The fourth, sorry. What was the fourth question? How does this love also include fear? After all, there must be not only love but also fear for a Jew to be able to fulfill Torah and mitzvos—to turn away from evil and do good. Both directions are needed, both love and fear. So if we have a hidden love, how is fear included in it? Love and fear are two opposing movements of the soul. We inherited this love; what does fear have to do with it? That is what the Alter Rebbe comes to resolve now, at the end of chapter 19. So

02:15 The point we have learned so far is that the Alter Rebbe explained the remarkable power every Jew has inherited from our forefathers: the power of faith and the power of mesirus nefesh. They are really the same thing—the chochmah of the soul. What is the power of the soul’s chochmah? The power of bittul, where the light of the Ein Sof, blessed be He, shines. Now, because the light of the Ein Sof shines there, we sense the absolute truth. That is why, for every Jew, it is simply and plainly certain that Hakadosh Boruch Hu exists. There is no doubt about it. No proofs or arguments are needed. So even the simplest Jew believes with complete faith. From there also comes the power of mesirus nefesh: every Jew is ready at any moment to give himself over to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, to the point of mesirus nefesh, to stand firm through trials and endure suffering and death, and so on. The Alter Rebbe explained that this love is present in everyone, but it is hidden. Hidden not only because it is inherently concealed, but also because the kelipah—the sense of self, which is the opposite of bittul—conceals it. And so, as he explained, the light of the yechidah, the light of the soul, is in a state of exile in this world, while the essence of the yechidah, the essence of chochmah, is the opposite of asleep. All of this, everything we have learned, is just a review and an overview. But when a test of faith arises, this love awakens in a Jew as mesirus nefesh. Then all the kelipos, the entire sitra achra, and all his sense of self are nullified. He gives himself over completely to G-dliness, and all the evil and kelipah melt away, and so on—even though, until that moment, he had been immersed in the kelipah and sitra achra. But the moment that essential point is revealed, everything else becomes nothing; only the absolute truth remains. All

04:02 that we have discussed until now. And now the Alter Rebbe continues. He is going to explain where fear is included in this love—the fourth question. Let’s read it together. “And behold, the light of Hashem, the Ein Sof, blessed be He, which is clothed in the chochmah of the soul”—this light of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that is present in every Jew, in the chochmah of the soul—“its power is so great and mighty.” We have such a strong, mighty power within us “to drive away and repel the sitra achra and the kelipos.” This power of Hakadosh Boruch Hu within us is strong enough to drive away and repel the sitra achra and the kelipos, “so that they cannot touch even its garments.” Here we see something remarkable about the power of faith and mesirus nefesh in the chochmah of our souls. Its strength is not only that, when a question of faith arises, it protects a Jew’s faith. It also protects even the garments of that faith, “so that they cannot touch even its garments of thought, speech, and action in the faith in Hashem’s oneness.” What does that mean? What are we seeing here? Until now, we have been talking about the sanctity of faith. Faith is never impaired. There is no defect in a Jew’s faith. It is absolute, extraordinarily strong. Touch that point of faith, and everything within him erupts: his yechidah is revealed, and he will go as far as mesirus nefesh. A Jew will not give up his faith. But that concerns faith, something in the soul. What, seemingly, about performing an outward action? It is not faith itself. I believe one hundred percent, but someone asks me to perform an outward action. “Keep believing. Think whatever you like. Just deny it in practice. Say a few words that do not accord with your faith. Or make an outward gesture of bowing down. You don’t have to believe it; in your mind, you can be thinking ‘Shema Yisroel.’ But in practice, say the opposite, or do the opposite.” What do we see? A Jew will not agree even to that. A Jew is ready to have mesirus nefesh rather than perform even an outward act that could express the opposite of his faith. That is the remarkable power we have. In other words, before this, we might have thought that a Jew’s faith is connected to an inner power of the soul: he cannot think or feel something contrary to his faith. But the garments are entirely external. So, my friend, couldn’t there be a ruach shtus, a spirit of folly? We said earlier that such a state is possible. Couldn’t that spirit of folly say here too, “Wait, what is the problem? I believe one thing in my mind and feel one thing in my heart, but in practice they are asking me to do something outward. What is the problem?” No. Such is the force of a Jew’s faith; this too is part of its power. The light of Hashem clothed in the soul is so strong that it does not allow the sitra achra to take hold even of its garments, “so that they cannot touch even its garment of thought, speech, or action in the faith in Hashem’s oneness.” What does that mean in practice? When faced with a test, a Jew is ready to withstand it and give his life rather than perform even a single act against the faith in Hashem’s oneness. A Jew is ready for mesirus nefesh even when it is a matter of performing a physical act—for example, bowing down to an idol. Suppose he is forced to do it. A non-Jew says to him, “Bow down to this idol.” “Even though he does not believe in it at all”—no one is asking you to believe in the idol. They are only asking you to bow down in practice. In his heart, a Jew

06:13 Consistent with faith. Or they tell you to do some outward act, to bow down outwardly. You don’t have to believe it; in your mind, you can think “Shema Yisroel.” But in practice, say something to the contrary or do something to the contrary. What do we see? That a Jew is unwilling to do even that. A Jew is prepared to give his life rather than perform even an outward act that could outwardly express the opposite of faith. That is the remarkable power we have. In other words, until now we thought that a Jew’s faith was connected to the soul’s power of faith—an inner power. His mind cannot go against faith; it’s a faculty connected to the soul. But the “garments” of thought, speech, and action are entirely external. So, my friend, couldn’t there be a spirit of folly here? We said earlier that there can be a spirit of folly. So here, too, it could say: Wait, what’s the problem? In my mind I believe one thing, I feel one thing, but they’re asking me to do something outwardly. What’s the problem? No. Such is the strength and force of a Jew’s faith, and this is part of that power. It is the light of Hashem clothed in the soul. It is so powerful that it does not let the sitra achra take hold even of the soul’s garments, so that it cannot touch even the garments of thought, speech, and action that express faith in the one Hashem. What does that mean in practice? When faced with a test, a Jew is prepared to withstand it and give his life rather than perform even a single act against faith in the one Hashem. A Jew is prepared to give his life even when it is a question of doing an actual deed—for example, bowing down to an idol. Say someone forces him; a non-Jew says to you: Bow down to an idol. Even though he doesn’t believe in it at all—they aren’t asking you to believe in the idol. They’re only asking you to bow down in practice. In his heart, a Jew

08:18 A Jew will give his life even over that. Everyone knows the story in the Gemara of Chana and her seven sons. You know the Gemara in Gittin? What happened with Chana and her seven sons? There was a woman with seven children, and the king wanted them to bow to an idol. He killed the first, then the second, then the third. He killed them one after another because they refused to bow. When he reached the seventh, he made just one request of him. By then, the king felt they were defeating him, though he had thought he would win. He saw that Jews have an extraordinary capacity for mesirus nefesh. So when he reached the seventh child, the king told him he did not have to bow. He would just throw his ring on the floor, and the child would pick it up. People watching would think he was bowing, but he would only be picking up the king’s ring. The child said no and gave his life. The Gemara tells the whole story, what happened to each one in turn. So that is an example of something entirely external. They did not even ask him to bow. Yet even over this, a Jew’s faith is awakened. The light of Hashem in the soul is so strong that a Jew will not sever his connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, even through the most external thing imaginable: an outward action that could suggest the opposite of faith, the opposite of holiness. And here is another example, not involving an action but speech: refusing to speak, G-d forbid, against Hashem’s oneness. A non-Jew comes and says, “I don’t care what you think.” He is not even asking you to do anything, only to say a word, a word that has a meaning associated with idol worship. To speak, G-d forbid, against Hashem’s oneness, even though his mouth and heart are not in accord. It is not that in his heart he

10:13 thinks that way; he would only be saying it outwardly. Say some word, I don’t know, that goes against faith. His heart remains wholly faithful. Nevertheless, a Jew has given his life even over that. We saw this in Jewish history during the Holocaust, in all kinds of situations. They were not asking you to say anything like that. They asked whether you were Jewish or not. There were Jews who had not observed mitzvos their entire lives. They were secular; there were Jews completely disconnected from Yiddishkeit. And when they were asked whether they were Jewish, they could have said, “I’m not Jewish,” and been released and lived. But a person could not bring himself to say aloud, “I’m not Jewish.” Suddenly it touched something in him. “I should say I’m not Jewish? Absolutely not.” There are many stories about this. And all they wanted was for him to say it aloud, outwardly. It did not matter what he believed or thought. Even that he would not agree to. So that is the point. There are many stories along these lines. There is a well-known story about the Baal Shem Tov—or perhaps it is not so well known. When the Baal Shem Tov was a child... Rabbi Kelm[?] tells the story in his Bereishis: the Baal Shem Tov was orphaned at age five. He would wander in the forest. As is known, the Baal Shem Tov used to walk through the forest with a stick, and so on. Someone stopped him in the middle of the forest and took him into a house. Then he locked him inside and would not let him leave, and they asked him to say something. They asked him to say—I think it even says there exactly what they told him to say. I don’t remember now. Something like a verse associated with idol worship, something like “I, and there is none besides me,” some phrase of—

12:14 They asked him to recite some such verse, and the man told him that if he refused, he would kill him. So what did the Baal Shem Tov do? If you have heard the story. The Baal Shem Tov took his stick, struck the man on the head, and shouted, “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!” He was a child of five or six. “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!” Then the man disappeared, and the house—everything disappeared. The Baal Shem Tov was left standing in the forest. It had been the sitra achra that staged this whole thing to test him on this point. That is the story I heard: they asked him to say something and kept pressing him to say it, until the Baal Shem Tov struck him and he fled. “Depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!” They tell this in connection with... Now, what else? When we speak about a Jew and his avodah, the point is that his Jewishness finds expression not only in matters of faith, but even in external things. Saying a word inconsistent with faith, or doing something inconsistent with faith—this is not fear of punishment, fear born of awe, or fear of shame. It is not fear arising from some level or aspect of G-dliness. No. It is the fear of losing my connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This is called the fear included in... as it were, included in... So this answers the question we raised about the Alter Rebbe: we are talking here about love. Where is the fear? That is what the Alter Rebbe answers here. The fear is not something separate, not another form of avodah. It is a result of the love itself: “Because of this love and this desire, he naturally fears and dreads touching even the outermost edge of the impurity of idol worship, G-d forbid.” It is fear of losing the connection. So the moment

16:40 there is some action involved—even the most external action—but he feels it might sever that connection, he does not want to do it; he is afraid. “The outermost edge of the impurity of idol worship, which is contrary to faith in Hashem, even in its external garments, which are speech or action without any belief in the heart at all.” If he is asked to do an act or say something even though he does not believe in it, a Jew will give his life over that too. The Rebbe points out the precision of the Alter Rebbe’s wording here: he is afraid to touch “the outermost edge of the impurity of idol worship.” Why that expression? Why “the outermost edge of the impurity of idol worship,” rather than the sin of idol worship? It is very interesting how the Rebbe reads the Tanya so precisely. Look: the Alter Rebbe deliberately writes “the outermost edge of the impurity of idol worship.” The Rebbe explains that according to halachah, in the Rambam’s Laws of Idol Worship, if a person bows to an idol only because he is afraid of a non-Jew, without believing in it—at the time of the act, he does not believe in it or intend to worship it—he has not transgressed the prohibition of idol worship. According to halachah, if a non-Jew forces you to worship an idol—yes, there is the commandment to be killed rather than transgress. But if someone is in a situation where a non-Jew forces him to worship an idol, and he does not believe in the idol but performs the external act only out of fear of that person, then he is not liable for the sin of idol worship. He has not transgressed its prohibition. That is the Rambam’s ruling. Nevertheless, a Jew will give his life. Why? Not because of the sin, but because of the impurity. He feels that through this act he would make himself impure with the impurity of idol worship. That is the Alter Rebbe’s point here. This is the infinite power found in the yechidah, in a Jew’s faith,

18:40 which extends even to an external matter. Even if you are told that, strictly speaking, you could do it, he feels that there is an impurity of idol worship here, so he will give his life. So what is the Alter Rebbe’s conclusion? What is the conclusion of chapter 19? What is the point? Where does the Alter Rebbe want to take us with this? That is what we need to understand here, as the discussion continues in Tanya. The Alter Rebbe is explaining this not merely to tell us how great a Jew is. By now we appreciate that we are grasping something of a Jew’s depth, but the Alter Rebbe is not here just to explain mesirus nefesh or faith. The point in Tanya is the avodah of the beinoni. The Alter Rebbe wants to explain a fundamental principle—the principle underlying all the chapters we are learning now, from chapter 18 onward: a Jew’s life, all twenty-four hours of the day, in every action, is really an expression of faith. In other words, what the Alter Rebbe wants us to understand is that we need to get to the root, to grasp that our whole life revolves around one point: faith in Hashem, or, G-d forbid, becoming disconnected from Hashem. That is who we are. And as Jews, we do not need to work to acquire it. We already have it. It is natural. A Jew naturally wants to be united with G-dliness. A Jew naturally fears becoming disconnected from G-dliness. That is your essence. So what happens? The spirit of folly says that some things are idol worship and other things are not. Therefore, if, G-d forbid, I miss the time for saying Shema, I do not see it as a problem. If, G-d forbid, I eat something that is not quite kosher, I do not see it as a problem. And so on. In other words, we look at certain things

21:00 And people say, “No, that’s not the oneness of Hashem; that’s not faith. I have faith all the way. But these are actions, these are details.” But look, the Alter Rebbe is coming to explain to us—and we’ll see this in the coming chapters—that this principle underlies the entire Torah: all 613 mitzvos, the positive mitzvos, the prohibitions, the rabbinic mitzvos and rabbinic prohibitions. They are all, in essence, explanations. They all flow from this point. They are all extensions, details of faith in the oneness of Hashem, or of separation from that oneness. Every mitzvah is an expression of faith, an expression of a connection to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Every transgression means separation. So if you’re a Jew, and being a Jew is your very essence, you’re not willing to separate from Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and you want to... It doesn’t mean you’re being asked for something else. You’re being asked to be a Jew. That’s all. You just need to understand that being a Jew is expressed in your every thought, word, and action. Once we grasp that every thought, word, and action in our lives is connected to our essence as Jews, a person will be a beinoni in thought, word, and action. That’s what will give you the strength to want, in every thought, word, and action, to connect to Hakadosh Boruch Hu and not to be separate from Him. That, in essence, is the basis of all these chapters in Tanya. Now look at what there is to explain. And since we’re close to Lag BaOmer, the Rebbe expressed this idea once—and addressed it more than once—in connection with Lag BaOmer. The Rebbe said something wonderful. We speak about Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. After all, the things said about Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai are extraordinary, astonishing, almost unbelievable. The stories and the spiritual level of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai—truly extraordinary things. What does that have to do with us? The whole world celebrates Lag BaOmer. The whole world dances

23:07 on Lag BaOmer. People go out, light bonfires, and do all that. There is no tzaddik in all of history whom people celebrate like Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai—not even Moshe Rabbeinu. What is it about Rabbi Shimon? It’s extraordinary. So what is this all about? The point is that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai revealed something within every Jew. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai isn’t just something abstract—“Wow, what a lofty soul there was in the world!” Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai revealed a depth that brought to light something in the essence of a Jew. That is the inner dimension of Torah. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai revealed it, and that revealed the inner dimension of the soul. There is the well-known passage in the Zohar that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai said on Lag BaOmer, the day he passed away. Rabbi Shimon opened and said: “I am my Beloved’s, and His desire is for me. All the days I was bound in this world, I was bound to Him with one bond. To Him I held fast, for Him I burned, to Him I cleaved.” Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was saying that throughout his life he was connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. His whole life, all he pursued and wanted, all he burned and was consumed with passion for, was to connect to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And today he had reached the completion of that, as his soul was about to unite with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is why he was so happy, why this day was the ultimate culmination, and why he was going to reveal the secrets of the Torah. That is Lag BaOmer. So the Rebbe says: Isn’t this talking about something deeply inward, something very lofty? No. On this day, the very point we’re learning here in Tanya was revealed. It’s what the Alter Rebbe says here in Tanya: this is the essential nature of a Jew. A Jew has the light of the blessed Ein Sof shining in the chochmah of the soul. Every Jew has it. The simplest of the simple, the Jew who commits crimes, the Jew who steals, the Jew who thinks he’s a rebel. If

25:11 he’s a Jew, he has it. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai revealed it. He himself reached its fullest expression, but he brought it down; he made it possible for it to be revealed in the world. This is the inner dimension of Torah that was revealed. Through the inner dimension of Torah, the inner dimension of the soul is revealed. The Jewish people, the Torah, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu are all one. There is the revealed dimension of the Jewish people, the revealed dimension of Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and the revealed dimension of Torah, which was revealed through Moshe Rabbeinu, through the revealed teachings of Torah. And there are the secrets, the inner dimension of Torah, which reveals the inner dimension of the soul that is connected to the innermost essence. So Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai revealed this—but where did he reveal it? Within every Jew. The fact that we can learn Tanya today and know about this point is thanks to what happened on Lag BaOmer. That is the great joy of Lag BaOmer. And so Lag BaOmer is about coming to recognize that we all have this connection. The yechidah isn’t some separate thing. It’s what is within you. Of course, we can’t reveal it with the same intensity, on the same level, as Rabbi Shimon. But every person, in their own way and in their own particular circumstances, has this connection. The Rebbe has a wonderful maamar about Rabbi Shimon. Perhaps we’ll try to learn it in connection with Lag BaOmer in the coming days. There the Rebbe explains this in a little more depth.