Tanya, Part I; Likkutei Amarim 10:5

Hook

Ever feel like you're trying your best, you're doing the right things, but there's still this little voice (or maybe a not-so-little voice!) inside that whispers, "Are you really good enough?" Or perhaps you've noticed that even after a really strong spiritual moment, a little bit of that old "stuff" creeps back in. It's like cleaning your room: you put everything away, it looks great, and then BAM! A sock appears under the bed. This isn't just a modern-day problem; it’s something people have grappled with for centuries, especially in Jewish thought. Today, we're going to dive into a super insightful, ancient Jewish text that talks about this exact feeling. It’s about those moments when we’re striving for goodness, making progress, but maybe not quite reaching that "perfect" state we imagine. This text helps us understand why that happens, what it means, and most importantly, that it's a totally normal part of the journey. We’re going to explore the idea that there are different levels of spiritual achievement, and that even when we’re not at the absolute peak, we’re still on a meaningful path. It’s about embracing the process, understanding the nuances of our inner lives, and finding encouragement, not discouragement, in where we are right now. So, if you've ever wondered about the journey from trying hard to truly embodying goodness, or if you’ve felt that internal tug-of-war, stick around. We're about to unlock some powerful insights from a text that’s been guiding people for hundreds of years.

Context

This fascinating text comes from a foundational work in Jewish philosophy called Tanya. Let's break down who, when, and where, and introduce a key term.

Who, When, and Where

• The Author: The Tanya was written by Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, a deeply wise and influential rabbi who lived in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. He was a central figure in the Chabad-Lubavitch movement, a branch of Hasidic Judaism. He wasn't just a scholar; he was also a deeply spiritual leader who wanted to make complex Jewish mystical ideas accessible to ordinary people. He saw that many people were struggling with their spiritual lives and wanted to provide them with practical guidance and philosophical understanding.
• The Time: The late 1700s and early 1800s were a period of great intellectual and spiritual ferment in Jewish communities. Hasidism, a spiritual revival movement emphasizing joy, prayer, and the presence of God in everyday life, was growing rapidly. Rabbi Shneur Zalman was a key figure in developing the intellectual underpinnings of this movement, often called "Chabad philosophy." He sought to bridge the gap between the profound mystical teachings of Kabbalah and the practical ethical and spiritual needs of individuals.
• The Place: Rabbi Shneur Zalman lived and taught in various parts of what is now Eastern Europe, primarily in areas that were part of the Russian Empire. His teachings, including the Tanya, were disseminated widely, influencing Jewish thought and practice across many communities. The Tanya itself was written to be a guide for all Jews, regardless of their level of prior learning, aiming to illuminate the path toward spiritual growth and a deeper connection with God.
• The Setting of the Text: This specific passage comes from Part I of the Tanya, titled "Likkutei Amarim" (Collected Sayings). This section is generally considered the most accessible and foundational part of the work, intended as an introduction to its core ideas. It's like the preface and first few chapters of a big, important book, setting the stage for deeper exploration. It's written in a style that aims to clarify and explain, making the profound concepts of Jewish spirituality understandable and applicable to daily life.

Key Term: The Animal Soul (Nefesh HaBehamit)

• What it is: This refers to the part of us driven by physical desires, instincts, and ego. Think of it as our primal, survival-driven self, focused on immediate gratification and self-preservation. It’s the voice that says, "I want this now!" or "I need to protect myself at all costs!" This isn't inherently evil, but it can pull us away from our spiritual goals if we let it dominate. It’s the part that loves a good meal, a comfortable nap, or getting ahead in a competitive situation. It's also the part that can get angry, jealous, or self-centered. The Tanya emphasizes that this "animal soul" is a natural part of human existence and is essential for our physical survival in this world. It’s the engine that allows us to function in the material realm. The challenge is to manage it, not to eliminate it entirely.

Text Snapshot

Here's a glimpse into what Rabbi Shneur Zalman is saying, straight from the Tanya:

"When a person fights their animal soul so much that they push out the evil from their 'left side' – like the verse says, 'You shall root out the evil from within you' – but the evil isn't actually turned into good, that person is called 'incompletely righteous.' It means a bit of that wickedness is still there, but it's totally controlled by the good side. They might even think it's all gone!

But a 'completely righteous man' has turned that evil into actual goodness. They’ve shed all the 'dirty clothes' of evil, meaning they despise worldly pleasures that just satisfy the body. These worldly desires come from a dark place that the truly righteous person hates with all their being because they love God so much.

The 'incompletely righteous' person doesn't hate the darkness completely, so they don't fully reject evil. As long as that hatred and rejection aren't total, there's still a tiny bit of love for it, and the evil hasn't been fully transformed. That’s why they are 'incompletely righteous' – the evil is still there, just under control. There are many, many levels of this, like tiny bits of impurity in a big batch of dough."

Close Reading

This passage is packed with wisdom! Let's unpack a few key insights that can really help us understand ourselves better.

### Insight 1: The "Incompletely Righteous" – It’s Okay to Be a Work in Progress!

The text introduces the concept of the "incompletely righteous" (צדיק ורע לו - tzadik v'ra lo). This is a really important idea because it acknowledges that most of us aren't saints who have completely eradicated all negative impulses overnight. The text explains that this person has "waged war against his animal soul" and "expelled and eradicated its evil." That sounds pretty impressive, right? They've done the work! They've fought the good fight.

But here's the nuance: the text says, "yet the evil is not actually converted to goodness." This is the crucial part. They've suppressed the negative, they've pushed it down, they've achieved a level of control. It's like having a messy room and deciding to shove all the clutter into the closet. From the outside, the room looks neat and tidy. You might even convince yourself that you’ve cleaned it up!

The text uses the metaphor of "filthy garments." The "incompletely righteous" person has taken off most of the dirty clothes, but a few might still be clinging to them, or perhaps they’ve just hidden them away. They are no longer actively wearing them, but they haven't completely burned them or transformed them into something new. This means there's still a "fragment of wickedness in the left part," though it's "subjugated and nullified by the good, because of the former’s minuteness."

Why is this so relatable? Think about trying to eat healthier. You decide to cut out all junk food. For a week, you’re amazing! You only eat salads and grilled chicken. You feel proud. But then, one evening, you’re stressed, and you find yourself with a bag of chips. You don’t devour the whole bag, though. You eat maybe ten chips, then you put the bag away, feeling a bit guilty but also relieved that you didn’t go completely off the rails. Those ten chips are like the "fragment of wickedness." You haven't completely converted that craving for chips into a love for kale, but you've controlled it, you've stopped yourself from eating the whole bag, and the overall direction is still towards healthy eating. The text says you imagine you've driven it out completely, but in truth, it's just been pushed into a corner.

Another example: Imagine someone who is trying to be more patient. They’ve worked hard to control their temper. Before, they might have yelled at a slow driver. Now, they might feel that surge of anger, their jaw clenches, but they take a deep breath and count to ten. They don't shout. They don't lay on the horn. From the outside, they appear patient. But inside, there's still that flash of irritation, that internal grumble. That’s the "fragment of wickedness." It's not dictating their actions, but it’s still present. The text suggests that this internal experience is what defines the "incompletely righteous." They are righteous because their good impulses are winning, but "incompletely" because the negative impulses haven't been fully transformed or dissolved.

What about the counterargument? Someone might say, "But if the evil is 'nullified and subjugated,' isn't that good enough? Isn't it a victory?" And the answer from the Tanya is, yes, it is a significant victory! The text doesn't diminish the effort or the achievement of the "incompletely righteous." In fact, it acknowledges the immense struggle involved. The distinction it makes is about the quality of the transformation. The "incompletely righteous" have achieved control, while the "completely righteous" have achieved conversion. This is a subtle but important difference in the text's philosophical framework. It's like the difference between locking a wild animal in a cage (control) and training it to become a helpful companion (conversion). Both are achievements, but the latter represents a deeper integration and transformation. The text is providing a nuanced map of spiritual progress, not a judgment on those who are still on the journey.

### Insight 2: The "Completely Righteous" – Transformation, Not Just Suppression

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the "completely righteous man" (צדיק וטוב לו - tzadik v'tov lo). The text explains that this person has gone a step further: "the evil has been converted to goodness." This is not just about pushing the "evil" into the closet; it's about taking the "evil" (or the energy behind it) and fundamentally changing its nature. It's like taking stale bread and baking it into a delicious cake. The original substance is still there in a way, but its form and purpose have been utterly transformed.

How does this happen? The text says they have "completely divested himself of the filthy garments of evil." This means they "utterly despise the pleasures of this world" when those pleasures are solely for "gratifying the physical appetites." They don't find enjoyment in them anymore. Why? Because these pleasures "originate in the kelipah and sitra achara."

Let's quickly define those terms:

• Kelipah (plural kelipot): Literally means "shell" or "husk." In Jewish mysticism, it refers to forces that conceal or block divine light, often associated with impurity or materialism. Think of it like the tough outer shell of a nut that you have to crack to get to the good part inside.
• Sitra Achara: Literally means "the other side." This refers to the realm of impurity, evil, and separation from God. It's the opposite of holiness.

So, the completely righteous person sees worldly pleasures that are purely for the body as coming from this "other side," this realm of impurity. And because of their "great love of G–d," they "hate" this sitra achara with an "absolute hatred." This hatred isn't petty or angry; it's a profound, principled rejection of anything that separates them from their ultimate love, which is God. The text quotes Psalms: "I hate them with the utmost hatred; I regard them as my own enemies." This isn't about hating people; it's about hating the forces that alienate us from holiness.

Think of it this way: Imagine a gourmet chef who has spent years perfecting their craft. They understand the essence of ingredients, how to balance flavors, and how to create something truly sublime. If someone offers them a bowl of sugary, artificial candy that looks appealing, they won't be tempted. They understand the difference between true nourishment and empty calories. Their refined palate (their love for God) causes them to instantly reject the inferior, artificial taste (the sitra achara). They don't just avoid the candy; they have no desire for it. The energy that might have gone into craving candy is now channeled into appreciating and creating exquisite culinary art.

Another analogy: Consider an artist who is deeply passionate about creating beauty. They spend their days sculpting, painting, or composing music. They are immersed in the process of bringing something meaningful into the world. If they were offered a quick, easy way to make a lot of money by creating cheap, mass-produced trinkets that lack any artistic value, they would likely reject it not just because it's not profitable, but because it goes against their very core. They would despise the superficiality and lack of genuine creation. Their deep love for art makes them inherently averse to its opposite, the soulless imitation. This aversion is the "absolute hatred" the text describes, leading to the conversion of any potential impulse towards the superficial into a deeper commitment to their art.

A potential question: "Doesn't the text say 'contempt is as much the opposite of real love as is hatred'? Does this mean the completely righteous person is just filled with negativity and contempt?" This is a great question that gets to the heart of the nuance. The text is not advocating for a life of bitterness. It clarifies that the "hatred toward the sitra achara" is a consequence of "the abundance of the love toward G–d." The love for God is primary. It’s like a light that casts a shadow. The more intense the light, the sharper and more defined the shadow. The "contempt" is for the forces that stand in opposition to that light. It's a principled, righteous stance against that which pulls away from holiness. It's not personal animosity; it's a rejection of the forces that would dim God's presence. The text also mentions that this contempt is a form of "utter contempt of evil," which is presented as complementary to hatred, emphasizing a complete turning away from negative forces.

The text also explains that the completely righteous person is called "superior men" (benei aliyah) because they "convert darkness into light and bitter taste into sweetness." This is the essence of their transformation. They don't just avoid the bitter; they find a way to make it sweet. They don't just shun the darkness; they illuminate it. This is a powerful idea – that the very things that could pull us down can, through a profound spiritual process, become sources of elevation. The text connects this to their service of God not just to satisfy their own soul's longing, but to unite "the Holy One, blessed is He, and His Shechinah (Divine Presence) within those who dwell in the nethermost worlds." This is a lofty goal: bringing God's presence and holiness into the most mundane or even challenging aspects of existence. It's about making the whole world a dwelling place for God.

### Insight 3: The Spectrum of Righteousness and the Idea of "Subjugation"

This passage paints a picture of spiritual life not as a simple "good or bad" binary, but as a spectrum with many gradations. We've seen the "incompletely righteous" and the "completely righteous," but the text hints at "myriads of degrees" within the "incompletely righteous" category. This is where the analogy of "one in sixty, or in a thousand, or in ten thousand" comes in, referencing Jewish law about mixtures.

Imagine you have a large pot of delicious kosher soup, and accidentally, a tiny drop of milk falls in. Jewish law has rules about when something non-kosher contaminates the kosher food. If the non-kosher ingredient is very, very small in proportion to the kosher food (like less than 1/60th), the whole mixture can still be considered kosher. The tiny amount is considered "nullified" or insignificant.

The Tanya applies this idea to our inner spiritual lives. The "incompletely righteous" person has the "evil" (the animal soul's negative impulses) present, but it's like that tiny drop of milk in a huge pot of soup. It's there, but it's so small compared to the "good" (the divine soul and its positive impulses) that it's effectively "nullified" and "accounted as nothing." The evil is "subjugated and surrendered to him." This means the person is in control, and the negative impulses don't have power over them.

Why is this concept of "subjugation" so important? It shows that "righteousness" isn't about having a perfectly blank slate, free from any negative thought or impulse. It's about the relationship between our good and evil inclinations. For the incompletely righteous, the good inclination is clearly dominant. It's like a strong general leading an army where most of the soldiers are loyal and disciplined, even if a few are still a bit unruly but are kept in line.

Let's use another analogy: Think of a well-trained dog. The dog has natural instincts – to bark, to chase, to chew. But with training, it learns to control these impulses. It won't bark incessantly at every passerby, it won't chew your furniture, and it will come when called. These natural tendencies haven't vanished entirely; they've been subjugated by training and the dog's desire to please its owner (analogous to the divine soul). The dog is still a dog with its instincts, but its behavior is now predominantly controlled by its good relationship with its owner. It's not "completely good" in the sense of having no dog-like instincts, but it is "incompletely good" in the sense that those instincts are managed and don't lead to destructive behavior. The text implies that this level of subjugation is a very common and valid stage of spiritual development.

A counterpoint to consider: Some might feel that any "fragment of wickedness" means you're not truly righteous at all. But the Tanya’s approach offers a more compassionate and realistic view. It acknowledges that the human psyche is complex. The "evil" is not an external monster to be vanquished, but an internal force that needs to be understood, managed, and ultimately, transformed. The text's use of the "one in sixty" principle suggests that there's a threshold of impurity below which an entity is considered pure. This applies metaphorically to our spiritual state. As long as the "evil" is below a certain threshold of influence, the person can still be considered righteous, albeit "incompletely." This allows for a more forgiving and encouraging perspective on our own spiritual journeys. We are not failures if we still experience internal struggles; we are on a path, and the degree to which we manage those struggles defines our current level.

The text mentions "eighteen thousand righteous men" standing before God, and then contrasts this with "superior men" who are few. This implies that the vast majority of righteous people might fall into the "incompletely righteous" category, each with varying degrees of "minute evil remaining." This isn't a cause for despair, but an affirmation that the journey of striving, of subjugating the lower impulses, is the path for most of us, and it is deeply valued. The Tanya is essentially saying: Don't get discouraged if you're not at the absolute pinnacle. The effort you're making to control your impulses and to focus on the good is itself a sign of righteousness and is recognized and valued.

Apply It

This week, let’s practice a simple, mindful exercise based on the idea of acknowledging and gently directing our inner impulses. We'll call it the "Moment of Choice Practice." It takes less than 60 seconds each day, but can help us become more aware of our inner landscape.

### Daily Practice: The "Moment of Choice"

1. Choose a Consistent Time: Pick a time each day when you can be relatively undisturbed for about 60 seconds. It could be first thing in the morning, before you go to sleep, or during a quiet moment in your workday.
2. Set the Scene (Mentally): Close your eyes for a moment, or soften your gaze. Take one deep, slow breath.
3. Acknowledge Your Inner Landscape: As you exhale, gently bring to mind any desire, impulse, or thought that arises. It could be a craving for something (food, social media, comfort), an urge to procrastinate, a feeling of frustration, or even a positive impulse like wanting to help someone. Don't judge it, just notice it. This is like acknowledging the "fragment of wickedness" or the impulse from the "animal soul" that the Tanya discusses.
4. Identify the "Left Side" vs. "Right Side": For this brief moment, consider:
   • The "Left Side" Impulse: Is this impulse primarily driven by immediate gratification, ego, or a desire to avoid discomfort? Does it pull you away from your deeper values or goals? (This is the impulse the Tanya might associate with the sitra achara).
   • The "Right Side" Impulse: Is there a counter-impulse or a deeper value that speaks to you? Is there a way to act that aligns with your spiritual aspirations, your commitments, or your desire for goodness? (This is the impulse of the divine soul).
5. Make a Gentle Choice: Without forcing anything, consciously choose to lean towards the "Right Side" impulse, or at least to not be completely swept away by the "Left Side" impulse. This isn't about forcefully suppressing the "left," but about intentionally directing your energy towards the "right." It’s like the "incompletely righteous" person who subjugates the evil. You are gently choosing to be in charge.
   • Example: If you feel an urge to scroll endlessly on your phone, acknowledge it. Then, gently choose to put the phone down for the next five minutes, or to do one small task instead.
   • Example: If you feel a flash of irritation at someone, acknowledge the feeling. Then, choose to take another breath, or to offer a silent thought of compassion, rather than reacting with anger.
6. End with a Breath: Take one more deep breath, acknowledging that you've made a conscious moment of choice. You can open your eyes.

Why this practice? The Tanya highlights that even when we're not "completely righteous," we are constantly making choices that either reinforce our negative impulses or subjugate them to our higher aspirations. This practice cultivates mindfulness of those moments. It doesn't require grand gestures or heroic efforts. It's about recognizing the small junctures where we can exercise our free will to align ourselves with our divine potential. By practicing this daily, we train ourselves to be more aware of our inner dialogue and to make conscious, deliberate choices, even when faced with strong impulses. It's a way of embodying the "subjugation" of the animal soul that the Tanya describes, moving us towards becoming more "incompletely righteous" and, with continued effort, towards a deeper level of spiritual integration.

Chevruta Mini

Let's imagine you're sitting with a friend, a chevruta, discussing these ideas. Here are a couple of questions to get your conversation flowing.

### Question 1: The "Closet" Analogy and Self-Deception

The text mentions that the "incompletely righteous" person might "imagine that he has driven it out and it has quite disappeared," even though it's just "subjugated." This is like shoving things into a closet.

• Have you ever experienced a situation where you thought you had overcome a bad habit or a negative tendency, only to find it resurfacing later? How did that feel?
• What are some of the ways we might "deceive ourselves" into thinking we've completely eradicated a negative trait when it's actually just being suppressed or hidden? What's the difference between true transformation and mere suppression, and how can we try to tell them apart in our own lives?

### Question 2: The "Conversion" of Evil – Is It Possible?

The text contrasts the "incompletely righteous" (who subjugate evil) with the "completely righteous" (who convert evil to goodness). This "conversion" sounds like a huge leap.

• The text gives examples like turning "darkness into light" and "bitter taste into sweetness." Can you think of a time when something that seemed negative or difficult in your life eventually led to a positive outcome or a personal growth experience?
• What do you think is required for this kind of "conversion" to happen? Is it something that just happens spontaneously, or is there an active process involved? How might the "absolute hatred" of sitra achara (as mentioned in the text) play a role in facilitating this conversion, rather than just preventing evil?

Takeaway

Remember this: spiritual growth is a journey with many levels, and consciously choosing the good, even when the "evil" is still present but subdued, is a significant and valued form of righteousness.