Tanya, Part I; Likkutei Amarim 10:1

This text delves into the profound complexities of human spiritual striving, offering a nuanced understanding of righteousness and its varied expressions. It speaks to the ongoing journey of self-refinement, a process that resonates deeply when we are navigating loss and seeking to honor the legacies of those who have passed. The concept of "converting evil to goodness" and the different levels of spiritual attainment can serve as a powerful lens through which to examine our own experiences of grief and remembrance. This practice is designed to be an on-ramp, a gentle invitation to engage with these ideas for about five minutes, fostering a sense of meaning and connection.

Hook

We gather today, perhaps on an anniversary, a birthday, or simply a quiet moment when the absence of a loved one is keenly felt. This occasion, whatever its name or form, calls us to remember, to reflect, and to connect with the enduring presence of those who have shaped our lives. The path of memory and meaning invites us to explore the deeper currents of our existence, particularly when those currents are stirred by the ebb and flow of grief. It is in these moments of tender reflection that we can find strength, solace, and a profound sense of continuity, even in the face of loss. This practice offers a gentle way to approach these sacred spaces of remembrance, weaving together the wisdom of ancient texts with the personal tapestry of our own lives.

Text Snapshot

"Behold, when a person fortifies his divine soul and wages war against his animal soul to such an extent that he expels and eradicates its evil from the left part—as is written, “And you shall root out the evil from within you”—yet the evil is not actually converted to goodness, he is called “incompletely righteous” or “a righteous man who suffers.” That is to say, there still lingers in him a fragment of wickedness in the left part, except that it is subjugated and nullified by the good, because of the former’s minuteness. In truth, however, had all the evil in him entirely departed and disappeared, it would have been converted into actual goodness. The explanation of the matter is that “a completely righteous man,” in whom the evil has been converted to goodness and who is consequently called “a righteous man who prospers,” has completely divested himself of the filthy garments of evil. That is to say, he utterly despises the pleasures of this world, finding no enjoyment in human pleasures of merely gratifying the physical appetites instead of [seeking] the service of G–d, inasmuch as they are derived from and originate in the kelipah and sitra achara, for whatever is of the sitra achara is hated by the perfectly righteous man with an absolute hatred, by reason of his great love of G–d and of His holiness with profuse affection and delight and superlative devotion, as is stated above. For they are antithetical one to the other. Thus it is written, “I hate them with the utmost hatred; I regard them as my own enemies. Search me, [L–rd,] and know my heart….”"

This passage from Tanya speaks to the ongoing internal struggle between our higher and lower natures, and the different levels of spiritual achievement. It differentiates between the "incompletely righteous" and the "completely righteous." The former has subdued the "evil inclination" but not entirely transformed it; it remains, though nullified by goodness. The latter has not only subdued but converted the "evil" into goodness, a process described as shedding "filthy garments" and developing an absolute hatred for anything that draws away from divine service. This concept of transformation, of taking what might seem like darkness and finding a way to bring it into the light, can be a profound metaphor for how we process grief and honor the lives of those we have lost. It suggests that even in moments of struggle or sorrow, there is a potential for growth and a deepening of our connection to what is ultimately good and holy.

Kavvanah

Intention: To hold space for the ongoing, often complex, process of transformation within ourselves as we remember and honor.

Insight 1: The Nuance of Righteousness

The text presents a spectrum of spiritual attainment, moving beyond a simple binary of "good" and "bad." It acknowledges the "incompletely righteous" – those who are striving, who have made significant progress in subduing their lower impulses, but where a residue of the "evil inclination" still exists, albeit diminished. This resonates deeply with the experience of grief. We are not expected to become instantaneously "completely righteous" in our sorrow. It is natural for parts of us to still feel the pull of sadness, of longing, of even frustration or anger. These feelings, like the "fragment of wickedness," are not necessarily entirely eradicated in the process of healing. Instead, the hope lies in their subjugation by our deeper, more resilient capacity for love, for connection, and for finding meaning. This intention is to acknowledge that our journey through grief is not about achieving immediate perfection, but about the continuous, often imperfect, process of integrating our experiences, our sorrows, and our enduring love into a more whole and meaningful self.

Insight 2: The Alchemy of Transformation

The core idea that the "incompletely righteous" has not yet converted the evil to goodness, while the "completely righteous" has, offers a powerful framework for remembrance. When we encounter difficult emotions or memories associated with loss, it's easy to feel stuck in the "evil" or the "pain." This intention is to approach our memories with the aspiration of finding a way to "convert" them. This doesn't mean erasing the pain, but rather seeking to understand its origins, to extract the lessons learned, and to find how these experiences, however challenging, can ultimately deepen our capacity for love, compassion, and resilience. The text suggests that "had all the evil in him entirely departed and disappeared, it would have been converted into actual goodness." This points to the potential for transformation within our own experiences of loss. Perhaps the suffering we have endured, when met with intention and awareness, can become a source of profound empathy, a catalyst for greater connection, or a deeper appreciation for the fragility and beauty of life. This kavvanah is to cultivate a spirit of alchemical intention – to hold the raw materials of our grief and remembrance with the gentle hope of finding within them a potent, transformative goodness.

Insight 3: The Love That Hates Evil

The passage's emphasis on the "completely righteous man" who "utterly despises the pleasures of this world... inasmuch as they are derived from and originate in the kelipah and sitra achara" and who hates "the sitra achara with an absolute hatred, by reason of his great love of G–d" offers a perspective on devotion that can be applied to our remembrance. Our love for those we have lost, and our love for the divine, can fuel a righteous stance against that which diminishes life and connection. In the context of grief, this might translate to a profound commitment to living a life that honors the values and the spirit of the person we remember. It’s not about a hateful rejection of the world, but a deep, abiding love for life, for goodness, and for connection that inspires us to actively choose paths that align with those cherished ideals. This intention is to cultivate a love so profound for the departed and for the sacredness of life that it naturally guides us away from what is ultimately detrimental and towards that which uplifts and sustains. It is about allowing our love to become an active force, shaping our choices and our very being in a way that reflects the best of what we have known and cherished.

Practice

Micro-Practice: The Candle of Conversion

This practice invites a gentle engagement with the concept of transforming aspects of our grief and remembrance into enduring sources of light and meaning. It is designed to be brief, accessible, and to offer a tangible way to embody the intentions we've explored.

Step 1: Selecting Your Candle

Choose a candle that feels significant to you. This could be a simple white taper, a beeswax pillar, or a small votive. The key is that it holds a sense of intention for you. If a physical candle isn't accessible or doesn't feel right, you can also use a digital candle on a screen or simply imagine a gentle, steady flame. Take a moment to hold the candle, or to visualize its flame, and connect with the idea of it representing not just remembrance, but also the potential for transformation.

Step 2: Lighting the Flame

As you light the candle, gently say aloud or to yourself:

"May this flame illuminate the memory of [Name of Loved One]."

Pause for a breath.

"And may it be a beacon of my intention to find transformation within my remembrance."

Step 3: The "Fragment of Wickedness" or "Subjugated Shadow"

Consider a specific aspect of your grief or memory that feels particularly challenging. This might be a lingering sadness, a difficult memory, a feeling of regret, or a sense of absence that feels heavy. The text refers to this as a "fragment of wickedness" or a "subjugated shadow." You don't need to name it explicitly if it feels too raw, but acknowledge its presence.

Hold this feeling or memory in your awareness as you look at the candle flame. Imagine that the flame, with its steady light, is gently touching this shadow. The flame does not destroy the shadow, but it illuminates it, making it visible and, in that visibility, beginning a process of integration.

Step 4: The Act of Conversion

Now, gently turn your focus from the shadow itself to the light of the flame. Think about how this person, or the experience of remembering them, has brought goodness into your life. This could be:

• A specific lesson learned: What wisdom did they impart, directly or indirectly?
• A quality you admire: What virtues did they embody that you strive to cultivate?
• A moment of joy: Recall a time of shared laughter or profound connection.
• A deeper appreciation for life: How has their absence, paradoxically, deepened your gratitude for what remains?

As you contemplate these positive aspects, imagine the light of the candle infusing them. Then, with intention, visualize this light reaching towards the "fragment of wickedness" or "subjugated shadow" you considered earlier. The intention is not to erase the shadow, but to allow the light of your love, your appreciation, and the lessons learned to permeate it, to begin the subtle process of "conversion."

You can offer a silent or spoken affirmation such as:

"As this flame burns, I offer my love and gratitude. May the light of [Name of Loved One]'s life and my own enduring connection transform the shadows of sorrow into the enduring light of meaning and resilience."

Step 5: Extinguishing the Flame (with Intention)

When you are ready to conclude, gently extinguish the candle. As you do so, say:

"The flame is extinguished, but its light and the intention of transformation remain within me. May the memory of [Name of Loved One] continue to be a source of strength and goodness."

If using a digital candle, simply close the application with this intention.

This practice is a gentle invitation to see that even the most difficult aspects of our experience can, with time and intention, become interwoven with the light of love and meaning, much like the "incompletely righteous" person whose subjugated struggles are ultimately held within a larger framework of goodness.

Community

Connecting Through Shared Narrative: The "Echo of Strength" Circle

The text speaks of the "incompletely righteous" and the "completely righteous," suggesting that we are all on a spectrum of spiritual growth and that our journeys are often intricate and not always linear. This is particularly true when navigating grief. We may not feel "completely righteous" or "prosperous" in our sorrow, but rather like "righteous men who suffer." Sharing our experiences, even in small ways, can help us feel less alone in this process and can illuminate the diverse ways we find strength and meaning.

How to Engage:

Option 1: The Quiet Witness

If you are practicing alone, consider this a moment of collective intention. Recognize that others are engaging in similar practices of remembrance and transformation around the world. Send a silent wave of connection and understanding to anyone who is remembering a loved one today. You are part of a vast, unseen community of mourners and rememberers, each carrying their unique light.

Option 2: The Shared Reflection (with a trusted friend or family member)

If you have a trusted friend, family member, or spiritual companion with whom you feel safe to share, you can invite them to participate in a brief, shared reflection.

• Preparation: You might say to them, "I'm doing a short practice today related to remembrance and finding meaning, and I was wondering if you'd be open to a brief shared moment."
• The Practice: You can briefly explain the core idea: that we are all on a journey of integrating loss and finding goodness, even when it feels difficult. You can then invite them to light a candle with you (or simply hold the intention) and perhaps share one word that describes how they are feeling today, or one positive quality they remember about the person you both miss.
• The "Echo": After each person shares their word or a brief thought, the other can offer a simple affirmation like, "Thank you for sharing that. I hear your [feeling/quality] echo in my own heart." This creates a sense of shared experience without pressure to elaborate or offer solutions. The intention is to simply bear witness to each other's presence and shared humanity in the face of loss.

Option 3: The Digital Sanctuary (Online Forums or Groups)

Many online communities and forums are dedicated to grief, remembrance, and spiritual exploration. If you are part of such a group, consider sharing a brief reflection on the idea of transforming sorrow into strength, or the practice of lighting a "candle of conversion." You might simply post something like:

"Today I'm reflecting on the idea of transforming difficult emotions and memories into sources of light and meaning, inspired by an ancient teaching. Sending light and strength to all who are remembering loved ones."

This simple act of sharing can create an echo of support and understanding, reminding us that our individual journeys are part of a larger, interconnected human experience of love, loss, and enduring hope.

Takeaway

The wisdom from Tanya offers us a profound perspective: that our spiritual journey, particularly in the face of loss, is not about achieving an immediate state of perfection, but about the ongoing, often subtle, process of conversion. Even when we feel like "righteous men who suffer," with the lingering shadows of grief, there is an inherent potential within us to transform these experiences. By intentionally focusing on the light of love, the lessons learned, and the enduring qualities of those we remember, we can begin to convert those shadows into sources of resilience, compassion, and a deeper connection to the goodness that persists. This practice encourages us to see our grief not as an endpoint, but as a sacred space for transformation, where even the most challenging aspects of our experience can, with time and intention, be transmuted into enduring light.