the tzaddik's bread crumbs

The Tzaddik's affect on our lives after his has moved beyond this world:

1. The depth of our love for the Tzaddik in his lifetime and after his death draws down his midot (love of God, fear of God, and pure Faith (emunah) in God) to be clothed within our own minds so that we too can act with these same attributes as we are now able to grasp and understand what we were previously only able to observe from a distance through the Tzaddik's actions and words. 
   
2. When we implement the Tzaddik's lessons in our lives, the light of the Tzaddik shines down upon us, encompassing us, and this inspires us to true teshuvah and divine service.

These are the two general ways the Tzaddik lives on with us even after he has (for the most part) left this world and moved on to the stages that come after life here, as described in the Zohar and explained here by the first Lubavitcher Rebbe in the Tanya, section four, 27th letter.

It seems to me that there is a clear microcosmic example here of our interaction with God: As the Baal HaTanya explains, God both permeates all of creation and ecompasses it. In a more limited sense, the effect a Tzaddik has on our lives is also described in these two ways, one that permeates our minds and one that encompasses them.

[We learned this letter this past Shabbath in the memory (לע"נ) of my father in law, HaRav Meir Benayahu ben HaRav Yitzhak Nissim, ztz"l]

Signs of the times

There is a lot happening in the world. There's always a lot happening in the world. The issue is more of a question of whether what's happening is of interest to anyone.

Yes there are tremendous things I feel happening, amazing shifts to spirituality. But how do I know these things aren't always happening?

When I say I feel something happening, it might make other people more sensitive to the fact that something is happening. Which means it might cascade. It doesn't take much to create a situation where the cascade is so amplified by feedback it creates a tremendous urgency. 

Nowadays, if you get on a crowded plane and start acting nervous and telling people you have a really bad feeling that something will happen, the more serious you get the more everyone will go nuts with panic -- there might be no real danger at all, but you will sensitize others to feelings of danger that always accompany flying and they will feel them and think they are stronger.

The trick is with spiritual developments and progress, being a subjective person, it's very hard to tell the difference between things happening to you and things happening to the world. (At least I know I can't tell the difference.) 

Rebbe Nachman teaches that our own interpersonal relationships mirror what is happening on a macroscopic scale, yet I would stress that we need to really develop the eyes to understand and internalize those ideas. On the other hand, the Baal Shem Tov's Torah may seem a little solipsistic. The BeSh"T says that everything you experience is part of HaShem's communication with you. It's not hard to combine the two lessons and realize that they're closely related, but still, it means that its hard to extrapolate from our own experience about where the world is holding, as the Talmud teaches "the whole world was created just for you." 

When you're young does it mean the world is young? When you grow old does it mean the world is growing old? No. But, there are parallels you can draw. As we saw yesterday, macrocosmic stages also play out on the microcosm. When you grow old, there is an aspect of the world growing old: your generation is aging too, which means the ideas, merits, strengths and weaknesses of your generation are on the wane as a whole. Still, in the world there is a vivifying force of new ideas, merits, strengths and weaknesses in the waxing of another generation. Just as the progress of each day plays out in miniature some form or element of the progress of the year. 

What I'm getting at is this: Everyone knows that the world develops in a cyclical fashion. Yet, at the same time, everyone, unless they really stop to think about it, believes that spiritual growth is linear on the whole. We even have a principle that says as much, "We ascend in holiness but do not descend." This can be said to accurately describe historic progress. (something I once wrote about.) However, this is talking about net ascension. 

In Judaism we have another principle involved in growth and progress: Ratz, running, and Shav, returning. In a very simple sense ratz can be seen as rising and shav as falling. On the whole we're always making progress but to do so we run for a while and then sit/return and rest. It's the tortoise model of progress. It's really the only true way progress happens in the world. A child grows physically, then growth slows and they learn how to use their new bodies, and then they grow again and so on. 

Everything works that way. In cycles. We grow and develop in cycles. Cycles of days, of weeks of months, years and larger landmarks from bar mitzwah to wedding to parenthood to parents of bar mitzwahs, to parents of the bride or groom, to grandparents and so on.

Spirituality too. Yes there is something in the air. Something really deep and spiritual. But it doesn't mean this is the time around when everything we've been waiting so long for has got to happen.

I'm not trying to rain on anyone's parade, I'm trying to teach us to work deeper. Think about it, there are even more amazing implications. In the classic view of what's gone down so far in history, there's been many false messiahs, false hysteria about the coming of messiahs and so on. 

In our "new" view, each wave of that expectance, that new enlightenment, was a period of ratz, historically. It's not that it was 'so close' but didn't happen. It was that it was always getting closer, and we needed to reach that stage to grow to the next stage.

Again we are clearly at a momentous point of running spiritually. Whether this is the last or there will still be more is a great question, what a question! But it's beyond the point. The point is that we teach that the true masters of Ratz and Shav know that the secret of Shav is that it's a form of running too, just a different kind. 

Rebbe Nachman teaches that when we step inside, reach a deeper spiritual level, we find we're back on the outside again; ah, but the outside of the next deeper spiritual level. Ratz and Shav is the same. We "return" to ourselves to seek out the next deeper spiritual level. [From this we can see how it is true that not only 'net' (as opposed to what we said earlier) but even when we speak in 'gross' terms, we are always rising in holiness.]

Whether this is the final lap or not is irrelevant to our work, to our immediate lives, we need to work like it's never going to be done. This is a novel way to understand "lo alecha haM'lachah l'gmor" -- Normally rendered, "you don't have to finish the work, [but you can't give it up entirely,]" On a deeper level it's "you shouldn't work in an attempt to finish it, [instead you should work as if you can keep the pace up forever.]"  In other words don't sprint, jog. That's the way to get the farthest, always pace yourself for the long haul. 

But it's deeper still.

The true masters of running and returning, they know when they crest one wave, not only can they see the farthest, but if they ride the wave down they can propel themselves to the next wave at amazing speed.  [this is discussed outright in the Mishnah in a story about Rebbe Meir Baal HaNess and Rabi Akiva]

When we master the long haul, when we give up trying to worry about when we've reached the end, that's when we're really making the most progress spiritually. Because as long as we think there's an end, how can we relate to God? God's endless. Ein sof.

Want to see Moshiah in your days? Keep your eyes open when you crest the wave, but don't think for a second that you're about to reach shore or else you will exhaust yourself, emotionally, spiritually, physically, and you will give up too soon, maybe minutes too soon.

This is what it means that the Tzaddikim (both of today and those that have long since passed on) live in a perpetual revellation of Moshiah, they're surfing those waves and glimpse the goal every time they crest one.

the life of all questions

Who hasn't questioned the actions of a Rav, even though we know him to be a Tzaddik? That takes a tremendous level of emunah, pure faith in God, and even when we do overcome these doubts with our unshakeable faith, who could deny these thoughts didn't at least try to surface?

Rebbe Nachman explains (Likkutei Moharan II:52) that it is perfectly natural to have questions with Tzaddikim and not to understand them or their behavior. This shouldn't bother you at all. 

Why? A Tzaddik is forever trying to liken himself to HaShem, and HaShem's actions (let alone His thoughts and plans) are beyond our reckoning. So, we will always have questions on HaShem, which means in turn, we will always have questions on the Tzaddikim who are constantly emulating Him.

[Curiosity: This is another good example of how Hassidut anticipates and answers post-modernism.]

night of the splitting

On the seventh night of Pesah, at the Kotel, I heard a derasha from Rav Ades. He was speaking about making oneself holy. Out of everything he said I took away two major points: 

(1) The more we awaken the different levels of our soul to Godliness, the more effect our prayers and Torah have on all the levels of our soul.

(2) In order to overcome obstacles in arousing oneself to prayer or Torah, one needs to draw the flames of Torah down into the deepest recesses of oneself.

These aren't exactly the things Rav Ades said, but this is the best understanding of it I could grasp. I've been trying to implement these teachings in my daily Tanya study. (I normally learn the daily Tanya lesson twice each morning) The first time through the daily lesson, I intend to awaken my soul as much as possible until even my toes want to be involved in the learning. The second time through, I learn with a fierce fire and passion to burn the words deep into my heart.

Rav Ades explained also the idea that the splitting of the sea was only in the merit of Yosef HaTzaddik. He said something to this effect, "Imagine, as the result of one man's holiness, the whole Jewish people survived and escaped."

getting carried away

הארון נושא את נושאיו - The ark would carry those who carried it.
Chazal explain that those who would bear the ark of the covenant were actually carried by it, rather than carrying it.

The Noam Elimelech offers another explanation of how this passuk relates to the Tzaddik:

When a Tzaddik starts on his journey towards HaShem, people speak out against him and cause him great difficulty. He doesn't pay them any heed however and continues pushing forward. These tests from those who challenge him actually propel him along on his way, the Noam Elimelech explains, and quicken his rise to greatness. (Each test in which he remains silent and ignores their taunting allows him tremendous spiritual growth.) When he finally becomes a true Tzaddik, he then returns the favor by awakening them [those who troubled him] to do true teshuvah and in this way, the Tzaddik who is referred to as the holy ark, actually carries those who at first appeared to carry him.

load balancing

HaShem says: "Better they should abandon Me, than forsake My Torah." (as reported in the Talmud)

The Noam Elimelech makes sense of this surprising turn of phrase: A Tzaddik wants nothing more than to be totally negated in the divine presence, totally united with HaShem. Sometimes though, in order to relate to the world, the Tzaddik needs to let go of HaShem, turn away from the blinding light of HaShem's infinite nature, and focus on the world, in order to perform mitzwoth, which are after all HaShem's Will. HaShem's quote is then understood like so: "In order to keep My Torah, [My mitzwoth] they need to turn away from Me [temporarily.]"

brit shalom

The Tanya (very end of ch. 12) quotes the Zohar teaching how to interact with a fellow Jew: If your yetzer hara encourages you to hate, despise, or be jealous of a fellow Jew, you should do the opposite. Take a lesson from Yosef and invest even more love and warmth in your relationship with them. Just as Yosef treated his brothers with love, despite everything that befell him because of their sentiments and actions, so too we should add love and warmth rather than revenge or hate.

In other sources, (one being Devarim She'b'Kedusha 5:6) seeking out peace is inherently connected to the guarding the Brit Milah, which is the attribute of the Tzaddik, of which Yosef is the archetype. 

These teachings came to my attention just as I wanted to draw the same parallel based on my realization that Yosef's relationship with his father exemplifies our ideal relationship with HaShem (our father, as He calls us His first born child)  and Yosef's relationship with his brothers exemplifies our ideal relationship with our fellow Jew.

deeds of sale

The Talmud teaches that HaShem "casts (as in casting silver) good intentions as [good] deeds." It's an interesting idea, and a comforting one -- in opposition to the common saying, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." To know that even if you don't get it quite right, HaShem still gives you extra credit for a good try helps me get to sleep at night. In fact, I like to take the statement very literally and chalk up credit for all those good things I wish I had the time to do but don't. (provided that I'm honest with myself and keep busy doing good things)

Anyways, I wanted to offer the suggestion that the Chumash (the five books of Moshe) offers support for this idea but rather than it being something hypothetical, it has a very down to earth meaning: 

The selling of Yosef. Why did the brothers sell Yosef? According to the explanations of our Rabbis, collectively Chazal, they were trying to purify the Jewish people of a potentially corrupting influence. Just as Esav and Yishmael had been weeded out of our genepool early on, the brothers mistakenly thought Yosef, who was sewing strife, also had to go.

We all know the outcome of the story: Yosef is sold down to Egypt, where he becomes second-in-command to Pharoah and, in practice, rules over the entire land of Egypt. The upshot being that when the whole world is soon struck by a famine of biblical proportions, (pun intended)  Yaakov and his descendants are provided for by their long lost son and brother, Yosef.

In this story we see a clear representation of an action, taken for the best of reasons, bringing about a positive result. 

The important part of the story to note is that even though the brothers themselves regretted their actions and thought they had caused no end of damage, in reality, because they went into the initial action with good intentions, HaShem made the end result itself good. This is the true meaning of "HaShem casts good intentions as [good] deeds."

We have to learn from this too: Even when something blows up in our face, and we have no recourse, no way to understand what to do now or how to put the pieces back together, we need to have faith in HaShem: We went into it with good intentions, let's wait and see how this is going to turn out for my good as well as the good of everyone else. 

How many times have we heard stories of small or large setbacks that lead to sudden miraculous salvations? How many times has research gone awry only to deliver some amazing new discovery? You could say, still those times are the exception, not the rule..  but how many more situations could have been new beginnings had we been open to the possibility?

Another important point, while addressing the story of Yosef's sale is Yosef's own response to all this: The Ohr HaHayyim (R' Hayyim ibn Attar) explains that Yosef tells his brothers: "Even at the time of the sale, you were still my brothers in my eyes." Even in the midst of the troubles that befell Yosef, he always looked to the good that would come of it--he knew he would be reunited with his brothers and he didn't let their current actions get in the way of the deep bond he had with them. 

This is something we can all learn from: Sometimes people we love act stupidly or selfishly, more often their actions seem stupid and/or selfish until we arrive at their point of view and understand the logic, often even benevolent intentions, previously masked by our own ignorance. 

First: give your loved ones the benefit of the doubt, assume they don't mean to be hurtful or even if they do, assume that they are so hurt themselves that they can't even think clearly right now. 

Second: If you don't let go of your love for them, in the end they'll come around, all wounds can be healed.

So we see how these two forces, the power of good intentions and the steadfast commitment of love can turn the worst most ruinous moments of a relationship into the deepest sweetest miracles of life.

[There will always be skeptics and pesimists, but they live life alone -- that's the answer to the question presented at the beginning of Plato's Republic.]

the tzaddik's fork

There are two different paths tzaddikim can take, both of them derive from divine da'ath. Da'ath, knowledge, splits into hesed (giving) and gevurah. (holding back)

The path of hesed which is open to the tzaddik involves jumping into the thick of existence and destroying your ego through recognizing and experiencing great Ahavat Yisrael. Knowing that you yourself are nothing and that everyone around you is priceless. This may sound hard and depressing but it isn't simply because everything and everyone around you is so sweet and precious, it causes infectious happiness.

The path of gevurah, which is meant for other tzaddikim is an even higher path but it is found in tremendous worldly suffering. Through subjecting oneself to deep physical hardship and attaching oneself solely to the spiritual one's spiritual joy and accomplishments are practically unbounded. This path, the Komarna explains is frought with a number of dangers, most notably depression.

The Komarna Rebbe describes a few Tzaddikim who represented the first category, foremost among them, the Baal Shem Tov.

There is a story about the two brothers, Reb Zusha and Reb Elimelech:

R' Zusia and his brother R' Elimelech had an ongoing dispute on what should one base his service of God. R' Zusha maintained that one should first reflect upon his own lowliness which would in turn cause him to appreciate God's eminence. R' Elimelech held that by contemplating God's eminence, he would come to realize his own insignificance. Since neither brother could sway the other, they went to the  Maggid of Mezeritch for a judgment as to whom was correct. "You are both correct, explained the Maggid, both paths are valuable. But the one who begins with himself is safer . . . one can't fall from the ground".[from: http://www.judaicaplus.com/Tzadikim/tz_viewer.cfm?page=zusha.htm]

This story sort of highlights the two paths. Reb Zusha was a (to my mind) proponent of the path of hesed, and Reb Elimelech of gevurah. I think the story points out the relative safety of Reb Zusha's path, the path of hesed, over the path of gevurah. In terms of impact and accomplishment though, Reb Zusha insisted that Reb Elimelech (the younger brother) was the greater of the two.

the friction of progress

An Art teacher in university once imparted, "the worst response an artist can get is no response." People in general like to get some sort of reaction, whether good or bad. It's easiest to see it in children, they're desire for attention is entirely value-agnostic. Children don't mind getting anger out of their parents, as long as they get some kind of attention. Which is the number one reason to ignore obnoxious behavior rather than reward it with a punishment. (as long as you then reward positive behavior, offering them an alternative outlet.)

This nature is true on a spiritual level as well, yet we expect it to be the opposite. If our avodah is easy and everything goes smoothly, we think we're doing great. We need to know to look deeper and work harder. If we aren't hitting any obstacles, perhaps we aren't working on the right things. Perhaps our hearts just aren't in it, and after all it's our hearts that HaShem wants. (רחמנא ליבא בעי)

The Komarna Rebbe (Netiv Mitzwotecha, Emunah 4:5) speaks at some length about how many challengers and accusers come against the Tzaddik. Rebbe Nachman explains that these challengers protect a Tzaddik from judgements or opposition in heaven. The Komarna takes a slightly different tack explaining how the challenges themselves educate a Tzaddik about what he needs to do, and in fact prooves the righteousness of the Tzaddik.

He explains that if you don't experience any opposition, it's a sign that you aren't accomplishing very much. Those people who think they are Tzaddikim, but who never encounter strife are in fact fooling themselves.

To me, who generally avoids conflict, and who clearly doesn't do anything big enough to offend anybody, how do I take these words of Torah? Do I take it as a lesson that I need to be more intrusive and offensive? That I need to upset those around me more?

No. To me, I apply this idea on a smaller level. If my yetzer hara isn't giving me trouble, if life isn't throwing any challenges my way, and everything is going swimmingly, then I need to start to worry. But, if my yetzer is pushing all of my buttons, and small challenges are trying to crush me under their net-weight by teaming up against me, then I can rest assured I'm still making progress.

The goal isn't to find a way to feel comfortable where you are, actually it's the opposite. Just as the best exercize is happening when you're really feeling it, so too, the most spiritual growth is taking place when you feel the effort of it.

To grow, to build, you have to give it your all, you have to feel it.

basics: chazal

[i'm going to do a short series called 'basics' on ideas that others have found novel, but i've always taken for granted. just some brief discussions about the basics of judaism]

We call the many generations of Torah scholars who came before us collectively Chazal, it's an acronym that is short for "Our sages, may their memory be a blessing."

People within the Jewish world, especially Israelis who have grown up their whole lives in religious environments, have asked me how it is that the secular public can treat Chazal and their collected works so lightly?

It doesn't surprise me. If you grow up in a world where your most revered academic scholars are men and women with impressive knowledge, but equally impressive egos, you naturally assume the ancient (and even present day) Torah scholars are the same.

The only way for someone to correct their perspective of Chazal is to meet one of the true Talmidei Hachamim alive today. Only through seeing a living example of something completely other than what we are used to, can we begin to understand who Chazal were.

When you speak and interact face to face with someone who has no regard for themselves whatsoever, someone who has so totally destroyed his ego, so as to exhibit true concern for his or her fellow person, only then can you begin to glimpse Chazal.

May we all merit to meet true tzaddikim and hachamim in the flesh, so that our eyes may be opened to worlds we never knew existed.

holiness en masse

The Notzer Hesed explains אל תפרוש מן הציבור - don't separate from the congregation - as advice to those pursuing the path of the righteous. Despite the fact that you are working hard at holiness, (separating yourself from your physical desires, the more mundane natures of the world, and are working to cleave to HaShem) don't cut yourself off from the common people. For as you grow in holiness and awareness you must always recognize that they are on a higher level than you. While you are seeking out how to properly serve HaShem and always just beginning on your journey, they are constantly fulfilling the will of HaShem.

He goes on to say don't ask how this could be possible, (how could you be on such a lofty level where you are working every moment of your life and still recognize other simple folk as spiritually higher than you?) if you do it you will ultimately see that it is possible. But, I think maybe we can ask, how would one do it? He makes it clear that it's kind of a נעשה ונשמע - we will do and then we will understand, but perhaps we can still glean some meaning from his words, even if we aren't on the level where we get to see or understand, even if we have yet to begin this journey.

When a person goes against HaShem's mitzwoth, s/he is said to be the lowest of all creations. All of creation, no matter how mundane, are fulfilling the role for which HaShem created them, whereas this person is going against their assigned task.

You might want to argue that the animals, the insects, the fish, etc were not given free will! How can they get credit for fulfilling HaShem's wishes when they have no independent faculty to decide to stray from it? The most complete answer to this question is a resounding, because HaShem declared it so. But, perhaps we can glimpse at the smallest hint of a solution: There is a halachic principle that a person who fulfills a mitzwah which they are obligated to fulfill is greater than a person who fulfills a mitzwah that they optionally could perform, but were not outright required to perform. (גדול המצווה משאינו מצווה) This is counter-intuitive, one would think that a volunteer deserves more credit than someone who is required to do something? The Torah teaches us the opposite, kol haKavod to the volunteer, but the challenge to do something is much greater when you know you are obligated to do it. Even if you don't want to, you still have to. The volunteer only comes from a place of wanting to.

In the same way, perhaps, since the animals were commanded to act the way they do, and they continue to do so, they merit reward along the lines of those who are required to do so and do so. Even though they have no choice in the matter, they still may not want to do it but they still do it.

Similarly, people who go about their daily business with no awareness of HaShem or even really of their own actions, in a way can be compared to animals. (l'havdil) The question of their free will is almost a moot point. In that sense, they go about there business on the level of animals, in the automatic dance of nature. Therefore, they are always fulfilling the will of HaShem, giving no thought to whether they want to or not, without revolution or rebbellion.

True, the Tzaddik is pursuing HaShem and holiness and upholding HaShem's holy mitzwoth, but who is he to take on this job? If one (has v'shalom) wants to take upon himself this task for personal gain or respect, then one has become lower than the animals, lower too than all the simple folk. If one truly wants to serve HaShem, then he is confronted by his ego in numerous guises, his effort is always bent on eradicating his own self-interests. As long as he has any fleck or stain of self-interest, perhaps he can see himself as truly lower than the animals.

It's important even for us to take away basic lessons from this teaching. How often do we judge others harshly because of selfish reasons? How often can we remove ourselves from our deeply ingrained competitive nature and recognize that what we see as a failure in others is really not a flaw at all? If we were impartial, or better yet, if we were concerned for their well-being and success, wouldn't we be encouraging them and laughing about it a lot of the time?

no pain no gain

Everybody falls. Shlomo HaMelech in Mishlei tells us that even the Tzaddik falls seven times. The main thing about the Tzaddik is that he gets back up again. In fact, Habbakuk told us how the Tzaddik gets back up again: צדיק באמונתו יחיה - A Tzaddik lives by his Emunah. (his faith in HaShem)

There are many Hassidic discourses regarding this idea, foremost among them The Baal Shem Tov (father of modern Hassidut) who read the passuk slightly differenty. A Tzaddik will instill life through his Emunah. One thing that many of the sources have in common is a fact I've often overlooked, which we'll try to develop a little below.

The general dynamics of the fall and recovery go something like this: In order to attain a new level, HaShem takes away the Tzaddik's current status, and he's left with nothing but a shell of his former level. The Tzaddik, through his Emunah, continues to act and serve HaShem from the little that remains of his previous level, holding out as long as it takes until HaShem grants him a new [and higher] level.

In the past, I've always understood this to mean that the Tzaddik basically holds on, fighting with whatever strength he has, taking advantage of whatever he can in order to tread water (as it were) until HaShem recognizes the Tzaddik's faith and throws him a rope. (so to speak) Recently I noticed the recurring theme (in many of the Hassidic texts) of how the Tzaddik continues to serve HaShem specifically from the shell of his former level. When you emphasize that point, the whole exercise goes from a flailing free-for-all to a focused discipline of sorts. The Tzaddik serves HaShem [davka] from his previous level, focusing all of his energy on the certain knowledge that HaShem can be reached through the particular door that would seem to have been shut. He pursues tirelessly until he succeeds in revealing what HaShem hid from him.

Think for a second of the way a parent teaches a toddler, an example often used in this context. The father takes a step away from the child in order that he will try and take a step towards his father. Then the father takes two steps and so on. For the toddler this experience can be infruriating because all he sees is his father repeatedly abandoning him. It is only the reward and excitement that he receives as feedback when he makes it to his father that fuels him forward. Now take a toddler with the intellect of a twenty-year old. The toddler understands his father is teaching him a lesson, and may even understand that its a worthwhile lesson.

The Tzaddik is like the toddler (lehavdil) who understands and knows it is a lesson, and is striving to learn the lesson. The Tzaddik knows that if a path was open and now it's closed it is only so that he should strengthen the "muscles" of that path until he can open it again. When that path is once again open, when that "skill" is freely available to him, he will pursue HaShem in new ways, always pushing always growing.

This is one difference between the Tzaddik and the rest of us. We don't know we're toddlers. We flail around and get bored, try to pursue other things that have a lower threshold of pleasure. Things that aren't teaching us as much. "No pain no gain," has a lot of really deep truth to it. (Though it can still trip us up when misapplied.)

down in the money

HaShem seeming far away lately? The Noam Elimelech (Parashath Re'eh) suggests this might be because you've been spending too much time worrying about money. 

Instead he suggests, spend your money on what your soul desires, not what your body desires. Your body naturally desires the fleeting pleasures of this world, whereas your soul cares only about mitzwoth, especially Tzedakah.

Through giving life to your money by spending it towards mitzwoth, you realign your world, and bring yourself closer to HaShem. In this manner you can even reach the level of the greatest Tzaddikim, the Noam Elimelech confides.

prayers cleaving to prayers

We recently mentioned Rebbe Natan's explanation and understanding of the verse תפילה לעני כי יעטוף - "a prayer for the pauper when he will wrap.." He explained that prayer from the place of utter lack encompasses in its earnest simplicity all the prayers of others and brings them before HaShem.

The Noam Elimelech (Parashath Balak, i believe) explains it a little differently: He says that there are those people who are not on the level to have proper intentions, proper Kavanoth, while praying. In this case their Tefillah is like a body with no soul. Similarly they perform their mitzwoth as well, without lofty intentions, and so they too are compared to a soulless body.

The Tzaddik then, through his prayer, invests the body of other people's mitzwoth with a soul -- even their tefilloth, through his deep kavanoth. In this way, the prayer of the kavanah-poor person clothes and garbs the kavanoth of the Tzaddik's prayer. This is what is meant that the poor person's prayer will wrap [the Tzaddik's prayer.]

the judgement of the tzaddik is mercy

The Midrash speaks about how HaShem chose to create the world with Din, might and judgement, but saw that it couldn't stand so He partnered Rachamim, mercy, with it.

Many Hassidic Rebbes tackled the apparent change in HaShem's thought process, as if the Rabbis (chas v'shalom) were saying HaShem made a mistake. Of course He doesn't make mistakes, He's beyond time and infallible, so the concept of a mistake makes no sense in the context of HaShem. So what's the Midrash coming to teach us?

The Noam Elimelech has a unique take on this: He explains that there was no change, that the world still functions according to Din. But in order that the world would be able to exist, the Tzaddikim emerge in great Gevurah, great might, ascend to the root of all Din, and overcome and master the Judgement. Essentially the whole system works based on Gevurah or Din. Rachamim is the term for the victory of the Tzaddikim's Holy Gevurah over the natural Din HaShem bestowed within the system. This, he explains, is why the word 'partnered' (שתף) is used in the midrash as opposed to another word. HaShem allows the Tzaddikim through their great Holiness and desire to become partners in sustaining the world.

actions that speak louder than words

Sometimes we limit ourselves simply by virtue of the fact that we don't believe enough. This is a basic lesson from Rebbe Nachman in his story the Sophisticate and the Simpleton. In our rush to be smart, we begin to doubt everything.

The Baal HaTanya, in tomorrow's Tanya explains that when we simply contemplate the reality of HaShem's presence and truly believe and know that He permeates everything and all is negligable in reference to Him, we can arrive at unparalleled levels of joy. This he says, being aware of HaShem, is the underlying mitzwah in all other mitzwoth, as Chabakuk revealed. (צדיק באמונתו יחיה)

The Noam Elimelech (Parashath Balak) explains that a Tzaddik has the ability to perform miracles and bring down phenomenal blessings through his sheer cleaving to HaShem, just by speaking, anything is possible. What's the limit on the Tzaddik's ability? He can only affect those who put their trust and belief in him. In order to affect those who don't believe, he must take some physical action in order to perform wonders. This is how he explains Mosheh Rabbeinu hitting the rock: He says that Tzaddikim think only about the wellfare of the nation, even to the end that they will (on occasion) condemn themselves to gehenom in order to bring divine mercies down for Bnei Yisrael. Mosheh thought if he simply spoke to the rock that any members of Bnei Yisrael who had any doubts about him wouldn't be part of the miracle, and so through performing a physical action, he hit the rock, he brought out many waters, enough for even the most distant. Clearly, the Noam Elimelech adds, HaShem agreed with him because the miracle ocurred.

So, important life lesson, emunah in HaShem and His tzaddikim will save you a lot of hardship when you may otherwise be needlessly limiting yourself. In this way we open ourselves to divine intervention and holy miracles.

the fixings of yesteryear

Today's Tanya makes a great if seemingly discouraging point: Our sins exist outside of time, which means that while in the past we may have made peace with them, they still exist in the present as if we had performed them this very second.

Ouch.

First off, this whole explanation is brought in the Tanya as a way of breaking yourself, intentionally, when you feel like you are distant and cold, when you can't seem to make a connection with HaShem.

So, let's try to envision this in a productive way that might be able to turn this teaching in a way that can inspire us and keep us from getting depressed about the idea of never being able to escape our sins.

In Iggeret haTeshuvah the Baal HaTanya explains that one can think of the six hundred and thirteen mitzwoth as strands of a greater rope that is our attachment to HaShem. Whenever we sin, we damage the related strand, and if our sin is repeated or done with particular disdain, that strand can be broken. No worries though, we still have 612 more strands holding us firmly to HaShem.

Still, because that strand is damaged, our relationship with HaShem is lacking something major. Let's just say it might only be one out of six hundred and twelve, but when each single strand gives us a connection and awareness of the infinite Creator, that's a pretty significant loss.

Also, because this rope links us and HaShem, it transcends time.

Taken this way we can look back on the Baal HaTanya's original comment and understand how it is that our sins are above time and each day, they may cause a lack in our relationship with HaShem anew. Until we retie that strand and re-strengthen it so that it cannot tear again, we run the risk of having to do Teshuvah over and over again. [Presumably this situation described above takes into account Teshuvah from yirah and not from ahavah, which is higher and reseals the breach as if it had never been.]

There remains one more question with our understanding of the Tanya, if it is that David HaMelech discusses this phenomenon as if he has to do teshuvah every day, we cannot assume he never did Teshuvah from Ahavah, but rather I will have to bring the Noam Elimelech to explain how David HaMelech, a Tzaddik, could say that about himself, despite his level.

The Noam Elimelech explains that normal people are bogged down with sin, all the while thinking they are tzaddikim, whereas the Tzaddikim find even their (own) most perfect deeds full of sin and lowliness so that every day the Tzaddik pursues HaShem with renewed intensity and increased vigor. This is a kindness because it inspires the rest of us to recognize our flaws and work to heal them. Here too, David HaMelech, by saying his sin is always before him, inspires the rest of us to seek out our sins and rectify them through ever greater efforts.

The upshot of the Tanya is, on a day where we feel a strong bond with HaShem, we don't need to depress ourselves with these thoughts, and we can safely ignore the Noam Elimelech being beinonim and not Tzadikim ourselves. Still, we can learn from the Tzaddikim that when we feel a strong bond with HaShem and great joy, that we should reinvest that energy into mitzwoth, tefilloth, and Torah study to let HaShem know we appreciate where we are, but we still want more!

let's eat in

Rebbe Nachman (Likkutei Moharan I:129) gives over an amazing Torah about Emunah, believing in Tzaddikim, and dwelling in the land of Israel:

He explains that when we eat something, it is transformed into a part of us. In this way we raise up the plants and the animals to the level of m'daber, by transforming its very matter into part of us, part of a speaking person.

This is what it means when the Torah says that the Land of Israel devours those that dwell in it, we are consumed by the land and are elevated to become of the same nature as the Land itself.

The nature of the Land of Israel is Emunah, and so when we are consumed by the land, we become pure Emunah, for this reason, someone who walks four amoth in the land of Israel is said to be without sin.

Similarly, the Tzaddik is intimately connected with the Land of Israel, until he himself is called the Land, [similar to how a Tzaddik is called Shabbath, it would seem] and so being close to the Tzaddik means that he too consumes you and you become elevated to the status and nature of the Tzaddik.

This is all only possible if we have a true desire to connect to HaShem, just as food that cannot be digested will be rejected by the body, so too, has v'shalom, someone who has no desire to connect to HaShem will be rejected by the Land.

If we do have a true desire to connect to HaShem, then we must feed our body to our soul, so that our soul consumes our body, as we explained above, and our body is elevated to the level of our soul.

Even further, we must feed ourselves to our Emunah, so that we may become Emunah incarnate and connect to the Tzaddikim, and dwell in the Land of Israel.

These are very novel concepts but I don't think it is so distant from us to accomplish, or so difficult to digest, pun intended. When we speak about feeding ourselves to our soul, or our Emunah, we are talking about whether we are exhausting our Emunah and our Soul to meet the needs of our body, or we are exhausting our body to meet the needs of our Soul and our Emunah.

As is taught many places, (I saw it first in the Tanya, I believe) our body is the wick, upon which our soul burns. If our body is bent to the service of our soul, then the body becomes the clothing, and the chariot for the desires of our soul. If, has v'shalom, the opposite is true, then since the soul is what animates the body, the soul is forced to serve as the lowly servant of the body, helping it to obtain its desires. The deeper lesson of Rebbe Nachman is that through this service, the lowly body can be digested and transfigured into the holy stuff of the soul itself.

waiting our way to salvation

Being a Jew, and being in this world, olam haZeh, is all about mitzwoth, right? That's what I thought, and in truth, that's correct. But... The Baal HaTanya (yesterday and today in the daily Tanya) and the Noam Elimelech (end of Parashath Korah) both go to lengths to discuss how much there is to do beyond the mitzwoth.

The Noam Elimelech explains that the way a Tzaddik needs to sanctify himself through food, drink, and money is even greater than his sanctification through Torah. Why you might ask? Because the Torah is already holy and the dark side doesn't have much sway in the realm of Torah. Physicality on the other hand is rife with challenges of the dark side, and so, through proper holiness in food, drink, and money, one can greatly sanctify himself. [update: for the record, The Noam Elimelech says specifically that this is true of the Tzaddik, but for the rest of us, the avodah we do in our tefillah and Torah is more important.]

The Baal HaTanya actually gives us a hint as to how to draw close, as simple beinonim, to the level of the Tzaddik: By delaying (for even a short while) our desires for things which are permitted to us, we can make ourselves a little bit holy, and in exchange we are aided with much holiness from above, so much so that eventually we will even be able to push off the yolk of the dark side entirely. For those keeping score, that would mean we would be able to reach the level of Tzaddik.

update: we mentioned in the past something from Rav Steinsaltz that is relevant here as well, about berachot being the perfect oppurtunity to delay just a little our desires.