71. There are two sets of terms describing two concepts that appear to be identical, but in fact are only similar: “father and progeny”1 and “principle [or: root] and offshoot,”2 These are in fact only borrowed terms that also describe other, related concepts.
Though an offshoot derives from its principle just as a child derives from its father, it is not as intimately close to its source. Let us consider a tangible instance. A disciple, having thoroughly understood his mentor’s rational exposition of a concept, might occasionally propose an alternative explanation. Though this novel approach is an offshoot of the principle that he has been taught, it can conceivably be inconsistent with it, despite the resemblance between their respective particulars. This is what we mean when we say that an offshoot is not as close to its principle as a child is to its father.
72. One of the many areas in which the above distinction surfaces is the blessing, Yishar ko’ach. It is used by congregants in addressing (a) the Kohanim who have just completed their blessing, and (b) the sheliach tzibbur who has just finished leading the prayers. In one sense these two cases are similar. The Torah obligates the Kohanim to bless their fellow Jews and likewise obligates the sheliach tzibbur to help his fellow worshipers discharge their obligations, and they all deserve a hearty Yishar ko’ach. But this blessing has a different meaning in each case.
In the Torah, the above-mentioned Priestly Blessing concludes with the phrase, וַאֲנִי אֲבָרֲכֵם – “And I shall bless them.”Though the Sages understand this to mean that G‑d Himself blesses the Kohanim3 for having blessed the people, the congregants in addition nevertheless greet the Kohanim with their own Yishar ko’ach, and this has its effect on the way in which they receive their blessing. The relationship between their Yishar ko’ach and the way in which they receive their blessing, parallels the relationship between father and offspring.
The Yishar ko’ach offered to the sheliach tzibbur, by contrast, reflects the relationship between offshoot and principle.
However, the Yishar ko’ach offered to the person who, word for word, acts as prompter for the Priestly Blessing,4 has to do with opening the downflow of the blessing. (This is evidenced by the parallel case of the person who, blast for blast, acts as prompter for the one who sounds the shofar; in this case, the prompter’s mental and spiritual intent5 are critical.) [As with the Yishar ko’ach offered the Kohanim themselves], the relationship between (a) the Yishar ko’ach offered the prompter for the Priestly Blessing and (b) opening the downflow of blessing, is parallel to the relationship between father and offspring.
Now today I heard Reb Sh. P., the sheliach tzibbur for Mussaf, who prompted the Kohanim during their Blessing and sang its well-known melody6 – and was greatly pleased. To you, the Kohen, Reb Y. K., I say Yishar ko’ach for the Blessing of the Kohanim. To you, Reb Sh. P., I say Yishar ko’ach for acting as sheliach tzibbur and as prompter for the Blessing, and a special Yishar ko’ach for the melody that accompanies it.
The first time I heard it sung during the Blessing of the Kohanim, in Riga, I was quite taken by it and investigated its origins. I heard from the late R. Shmuel Yaakov Katz – whose father had heard from his father, a member of the Mitteler Rebbe’s choir – that the chassidim who constituted the choir had composed this niggun according to the directives and expositions of the Mitteler Rebbe.
And in fact it perfectly suits the Blessing of the Kohanim. For,as is known, the aim of this Blessing is “to incorporate the left side in the right side,” [i.e., to incorporate yirah in one’s ahavah,] and this is accomplished through the [dual] avodah of ratzo [i.e., the desire of the soul to reach out of its corporeal confines towards its Source] and shov7[i.e., the realization that the soul’s ultimate duty lies in This World]. And this is why the above niggun particularly suits the Blessing of the Kohanim – for its two themes likewise alternate between a mood of ratzo [in an insistent outcry of yearning] and a mood of shov [in a subdued, lower-register refrain of calm resignation].
73. Thought and speech, which are called “garments” of the soul,8 are ancillary faculties.9
The language of classical Jewish philosophy10 classifies the faculties of the soul into four categories: Delight (oneg) and will (ratzon) are known as the separate faculties (nivdalim); the intellectual faculties (Chabad) are called masters (adonim); the faculties of thought (machshavah) and speech (dibbur) are called attendants (mesharsim); and action (maaseh) is called a servant (eved) – because it is the faculty that actually executes that which brings the individual delight, that which he wills, which he understands and is emotionally involved in, and thinks and speaks of.
As to thought and speech, the attendant or ancillary faculties, thought is an attendant that waits on the intellect, while speech is an attendant that waits on the emotive attributes.
A perception that arrives at the faculty of Chochmah from ko’ach hamaskil, the superconscious source of intellection, makes its appearance as a lightning flash. It is true that the faculties of Binah and Daas are incorporated in the faculty of Chochmah, but the germinal perception is still in need of an attendant, namely, thought.
Speech is the attendant that serves the middos, which explains why the manner in which any one of the emotive attributes is manifested depends on speech. This fact also underlies the principle that “words that proceed from the heart find their way into another’s heart.”11 Just as a thought is not consummated until it is not only understood by the thinker but also explained to another, so too with the emotive attributes – and these cannot be communicated to another without their attendant: they will become manifest according to the manner in which speech is used.
Chassidus classifies the faculties of the soul into three categories: (a) the transcendent or superconscious faculties (kochos makkifim); (b) the internal or conscious faculties (kochos pnimi’im); and (c) the garments of the soul (levushim). The faculties of delight and will fall into the first category, for they are the catalyst of all the other faculties and their activities. Intellect (i.e., Chabad)and the emotive faculties (middos) and so on – all the faculties that have vessels, i.e., corporeal organs in which they become enclothed – are termed by Chassidus internal or conscious faculties. And in chassidic terminology, thought, speech and action are called the “garments” of the soul.
Delight and will, the transcendent or superconscious faculties, also have their attendant, namely, [the singing of a meditative, inspirational] melody. And just as thought and speech have been imbued by the Creator with certain characteristics, by virtue of which thought is an attendant for the intellect and speech is an attendant for the emotive attributes, so too has music been imbued with certain characteristics that enable it to be an attendant that serves delight and will.
Though the nature and functions of attendants and their service are similar in all circumstances, various differences may be distinguished. This may be tangibly perceived even in the avodah of the Kohen Gadol in the inner sanctuary of the Beis HaMikdash.
The Kohen Gadol is referred to as “G‑d’s attendant.”12 And the Four-Letter Name of G‑d has two meanings: הֲוָיָ-ה דִלְעֵילָא (lit., “G‑d Above”) and הֲוָיָ-ה דִלְתָתָּא (lit., “G‑d below”).13 When the Kohen Gadol entered the Holy of Holies to offer the incense, he was an attendant of “G‑d Above”; when he entered to pray on behalf of the community of Israel and for the Temple service, he was the attendant of “G‑d below.” The different levels within the service of the Kohen Gadol in the Beis HaMikdash are a classic case from which one may understand the different levels among the attendant faculties of the soul – speech being an attendant for the middos, thought being an attendant for the intellect, and music being an attendant for the faculties of delight and will.
74. The above explanation will enable us to understand a teaching of my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, at the table on the Second Day of Shavuos in the year 5610 (1850): “A melody that conveys a consciously-directed message14 opens a gate from the yechidah to the chayah, and from the chayah to the [three lower levels of the soul known by their acrostic as] Naran.”
The five levels within the soul – nefesh, ruach, neshamah, chayah and yechidah – may be bracketed into two general categories: [the transcendent, or superconscious faculties of the soul that are called] the makkifim, and [the faculties of the soul that are consciously invested in the body, and are called] the pnimi’im. Yechidah and chayah constitute the first category; nefesh, ruach and neshamah constitute the second category. (We know the meaning of the terms makkifim and pninim and the difference between them from their use in describing the faculties of the soul.)
We can now understand why music is the attendant that serves the faculties of delight and will. We can understand, moreover, why a meaningful melody of the kind described above is able to open a gate from the yechidah to the chayah, and from the chayah to the Naran – for to open these gates means to reveal transcendent lights in the conscious faculties of the soul.
When the Tzemach Tzedek spoke of this kind of melody, he had in mind a niggun of a Rebbe – either composed or chosen by a Rebbe.
For melodies are to be found at any one of three levels: (a) there is a niggun that conveys a true and precise message; (b) a niggun that says something, of the kind that the early chassidim had – the repentance-niggun, the meditation-niggun, the niggun of brotherly love, and so on; and (c) a mindless niggun that says nothing and is composed according to no clear principles.
75. A chassid is bound to a Rebbe in three ways, each way being a distinct bond with a distinct level within the Rebbe. When one hears a narrative recounted about one’s Rebbe, since this actually teaches something, one becomes bound to the Rebbe’s faculty of action; when one hears a Torah teaching from one’s Rebbe, one becomes bound to his faculty of speech; and when one sings a niggun of the Rebbe, one becomes bound to his faculty of thought.
In general, the level at which a chassid is thus bound does not exceed the Rebbe’s nefesh, ruach and neshamah. As has been explained, [though,] a niggun of the kind described above opens the gate from the singer’s transcendental, superrational faculties to his indwelling, conscious faculties. It is thus obvious that such a melody sets up a bond at a level higher than that of the Rebbe’s levels of Naran. However, this takes place only if the individual pictures to himself the way in which he heard the melody from his Rebbe, and ponders on his own spiritual disposition at the time. Then, when a chassid sings the above-described kind of melody with a spiritual arousal that springs from within, he becomes bound with the transcendent faculties of his Rebbe’s soul.
The reason that singing can set up such a connection is that melody is made up of movements – and all movement15 gives rise to warmth, which is a vessel for vitality.
76. “The least among you can revive the dead.”16 This familiar statement can fairly be applied to those men who received their training and guidance as chassidim from the mouth of R. Hillel [of Paritch]. For just as physical death means the withdrawal of vitality, i.e., frigidity, so too, is spiritual death frigidity. It means that one’s davenen is cold, one’s performance of a mitzvah is cold, one’s Torah study is cold; even one’s singing and dancing is cold. Through his training and guidance, R. Hillel created chassidim with such warm hearts that the least of them, quite unsophisticated people, revived the dead: they warmed up their frigid fellow Jews.
We are not talking about people who are frigid in the sense that they do not observe the practices of Yiddishkeit, G‑d forbid. By frigid Jews I mean people who study the Torah and observe the mitzvos: solid, G‑d-fearing folk who give charity and do favors – but they are cold. Whatever they do in the realm of the Torah and its commandments, in charity and in the love of their fellows, is cold and bereft of vitality. And it was frigid people such as these whom R. Hillel’s disciples made ardent.
R. Hillel threw his very life into warming up a man’s heart to Torah and mitzvos, to charity and to the love of a fellow Jew. A man who received his training and guidance as a chassid from R. Hillel had the capacity to infuse warmth into an entire region of ten townships and villages. Exhilarated, their townsfolk sprang into life – in everything that had to do with their Torah and mitzvos, in the way they gave their charity and in the way they loved their fellow Jews.
77. One of the key questions that my great-grandfather, the Tzemach Tzedek, was asked in Petersburg at the Rabbinical Conference of 1843 was the following: “What was novel about the chassidic movement? – For earlier generations also had their tzaddikim who studied Mussar, and whose Torah scholarship was characterized by vitality.”
The Rebbe answered as follows: ‘‘In Scripture the Torah is referred to as fire, as in the verse, מִימִינוֹ אֵשׁ דָּת לָמוֹ – ‘From His right hand [He gave] them a fiery law.’17 Fire emits light and heat. One cannot be without the other, neither heat without light nor light without heat. G‑d has invested fire with a property that makes it prevail and conquer. The first bit of water thrown on a great conflagration in an effort to extinguish it only makes it burn all the harder. And the Torah is comparable to fire: it is hot and luminous, and it overpowers all its opponents.
“Water can be either good or bad. Since the various kinds of water in creation include unwholesome water, good water can also include an admixture that is not good. This admixture certainly does not derive from elements that are not good in the unwholesome water, for there even evil is to be found, evil that ruins its positive aspects.
“In order to make it possible to remove the impurities that render water unusable, and to isolate the undesirable elements that may be present in good water, the Creator invested fire with the capability to boil it. By thus separating the impurities in unusable water, fire makes it usable, and by locating and separating the more subtle sediment it makes usable water utterly clean and clear.
“The revealed dimension of the Torah is water. When it is studied for its own good sake it is beneficial water; when a person studies it for the sake of self-aggrandizement or to enable him to be argumentative, ‘it becomes a lethal drug for him.’18 The teachings of Chassidus are fire. When the divine service in one’s heart is inspired by Chassidus, there is a seething as of meat in a cauldron. It is then that this fire separates the gross dross from the unusable water and the more subtle impurities from the usable water.
“This, then, is the novel accomplishment of the Baal Shem Tov and the Maggid of Mezritch with their comprehensive chassidic doctrine, and the novel achievement of my grandfather19 with the chassidic teachings of Chabad in particular.”
* * *
Halperin later recounted that when the chassid by the name of R. Yisrael Chaikin had finished relaying the above reply from the Tzemach Tzedek, Count Uvarov remained seated, deep in thought. It was apparent that this talk from the mouth of the Rebbe’s messenger had made a mighty impression on him. The young man had spoken with warmth in simple but very clear Russian, and it was evident that he not only understood the subject that he was repeating, but that it was near to his heart.
The Minister then broke the silence: “This is profound religious philosophy.”
78. One may distinguish between an idea, and the way in which it is presented. In the Torah, certain concepts are stated explicitly, while others are understood [in a different way, viz.,] circumstantially. The reason for self-sacrifice, for example, is not mentioned explicitly in the Torah.20 For Torah is intelligence and reason, and reason does not sanction self-sacrifice. Reason does compel the existence of faith. It argues that one should exert one’s mind to the limit of its capacity, and beyond this point faith steps in. And faith not only warrants self-sacrifice, but it makes it imperative that one sacrifice one’s life for that which one believes with perfect faith.
Our Sages teach that “[only] by virtue of faith were our forefathers redeemed from Egypt.”21 Faith does not mean just believing, in the sense that people say, “I believe; I’ve got a Jewish heart.” Faith – emunah – means believing in what [mitzvos] one is doing. And through these activities, even though one does not quite know what they are and does not grasp them rationally, the required spiritual consequences result. By putting on tefillin, for example, the four levels of the Divine intellect,22 so to speak, are drawn down [and united with the intellect of man]; and corresponding effects flow from one’s observance of the commandment of eating matzah, and other commandments too. Through this kind of faith were the Jewish people redeemed from Egypt, for while they were in that exile they believed in the redemption and constantly spoke of it.
79. Narrating the events immediately preceding the Splitting of the Red Sea the Torah writes, וַיּוֹלֶךְ ה' אֶת הַיָּם בְּרוּחַ קָדִים עַזָּה – “G‑d drove back the sea with a powerful east wind.”23 A little earlier, however, we read, וַיֹּאמֶר ה' אֶל משֶׁה ... וּנְטֵה אֶת יָדְךָ – “G‑d said to Moshe, ... ‘Extend your hand [over the sea, and divide it].”‘24 At first glance these two texts would appear to contradict each other. In truth, however, the sea was split through both agencies. Thus we find in the Zohar that “the east wind25 is the spirit26 of Yaakov,”27 and the Splitting of the Sea was accomplished by [the modes of Divine service personified by] both Yaakov and Moshe.
There is a verse [in which Yaakov Avinu speaks of his own crossing of the Jordan River] that says, כִּי בְמַקְלִי עָבַרְתִּי אֶת הַיַּרְדֵּן – “For with my rod I crossed [this] Jordan.”28 The Shelah29notes that numerous Divine Names issue from this verse, and cites the Names that are to be found in the following two verses: מִי כָמֹכָה בָּאֵלִם ה' – “Who is like You among the supernal beings, O G‑d!”30 andלִישׁוּעָתְךָ קִוִּיתִי ה' – “I hope for Your deliverance, O G‑d.”31
There is another verse involving Yaakov [that is likewise interpreted in Kabbalistic terms]: וַיִּֽקַּֽח לוֹ יַעֲקֹב מַקַּל לִבְנֶה לַח וְלוּז וְעַרְמוֹן – “Yaakov took rods of fresh storax, almond and plane.”32 [Let us now consider each of these terms individually.] The rod recalls a Talmudic phrase that speaks of a dog being accustomed to being struck by a rod.33 The terms לַח (“fresh”) and לוּז (“almond”) signify respectively the Divine attributes of Chessed and Gevurah.34The word לִבְנֶה (“storax” or “white poplar”) signifies the root and source of Chessed, namely, Chochmah. And מַחְשֹׁף הַלָבָן (i.e., the uncovered white layer under the peeled bark35) denotes hiskalelus, the mutual incorporation of the Divine Attributes; this corresponds to the attribute of Rachamim (“compassion”), or Tiferes.
All these terms signify parallel concepts in the realm of avodah. The rod is a reference to [the teaching in the Zohar that if the body obstructs the penetration of the light of the soul] מְבַטְשִׁין לֵיהּ – “It should be beaten.”36 What should be beaten is specifically the Evil Inclination,37 which is the tangible expression38 of evil; the animal soul,39 by contrast, which is only the capacity for desire, ought to be viewed with compassion.
[Up to this point, then, we have considered the mode of Divine service embodied by Yaakov Avinu.]
Moshe Rabbeinu represents Daas Elyon, whose spiritual perspective ought to shed light on [the earthbound perspective which is called] Daas Tachton.
Together, both these modes of Divine service bring about the “Splitting of the Red Sea”– the ability to perceive the presence of Divinity in everything.
80. In today’s Tanya reading,40 as indicated in HaYom Yom, the [Alter] Rebbe says that every individual [Jew] has a treasure of the fear of Heaven, but it is located deep within him and needs to be revealed – for which reason it is referred to there as a treasure buried in the earth.
This concept is based on a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov.41
Without question, the above search varies with the varying levels of the individuals involved. In the words of the Tanya: “There is [the naturally refined soul] which, immediately upon considering [the greatness of G‑d], attains a fear [and dread of Him]... Then there is a soul that is of lowly nature and origin..., and it is unable to discover G‑dliness by contemplation except with difficulty and forceful insistence, especially if it had been defiled by the ‘sin of youth...’ Nevertheless, with difficulty and with forceful effort, [when his thought greatly exerts itself] with vigor and great toil [and intense concentration], immersing [itself in contemplation of] the greatness of G‑d for a long time, there will come to him at least the ‘lower-level fear’ [referred to above].”
This “long time” is to be measured not in time but in quality – just as in the material domain, when a person is thinking about some issue that really matters to him, it makes little difference whether he thinks for a long time or a short time: it is the quality of his thinking that counts. The same applies in the spiritual domain – “that the soul not find it burdensome to carry out this labor” of profound concentration, so that the individual’s bond with his subject becomes vigorous and powerful. In this connection the Alter Rebbe cites the verse, אִם תְּבַקְשֶׁנָּה כַכָּסֶף, וְֽכַמַּטְמוֹנִים תְּחַפְּשֶׂנָּה, אָז תָּבִין יִרְאַת ה' – “If you seek it like money, and search for it as forbidden treasures, then you will understand the fear of G‑d.”42 The Alter Rebbe goes on to explain: “In the manner of a person seeking a hidden treasure buried in the depths of the earth, for which he digs with tireless toil, so must one delve with unflagging energy in order to reveal the treasure of the fear of Heaven, which lies buried and concealed in the understanding of the heart of every Jewish individual.”
There are two stages in digging. One first has to remove the loose dirt that has accumulated over the years, covering the object of one’s search; this stage has its own particular tools, such as a shovel or whatever. In the next stage one has to use a separate set of tools to dig into the hard ground underneath – until through hard toil the buried treasure is revealed. The same is true of spiritual excavation. “In order to reveal the treasure of the fear of Heaven” one first has to remove the loose dirt, i.e., one’s longstanding habits. One then has to delve more deeply, which involves extreme exertion, until one uncovers the “treasure of the fear of Heaven” that is hidden “in the understanding of the heart,”43 transcending time. The Alter Rebbe specifies “the understanding of the heart”rather than “the understanding of the brain”44 – because the middos [i.e., the emotive attributes that are based in the heart] are finite, and by saying “hidden in the understanding of the heart” he alludes to something that transcends time.
This will also enable us to understand the wording of the above-quoted phrase, “to discover G‑dliness by contemplation.” This phrase, in a context that discusses a man’s search for the fear of Heaven, recalls the individual who “prepared black pigeons and found white ones, or prepared white pigeons and found black ones.”45
Seen in the above light, however, the phrase is in place, for it refers to that aspect of Elokus in the soul that transcends time; this is the “treasure of the fear of Heaven” – and it is this resource that must be drawn into actual, practical expression in the finite realm of time.
