Tanya, Part I; Likkutei Amarim 13:11

Hook

Today, we gather with intention, drawn by the ebb and flow of memory, to honor a significant passage of time. Perhaps it is an anniversary – a birthday that will now be marked by absence, a yahrzeit that calls us back to a specific day, a holiday that feels profoundly different without a cherished presence. Or perhaps it is a moment of quiet reflection, a day where the veil between the everyday and the profound feels thinner, inviting us to explore the intricate tapestry of our inner lives. Whatever brings you here, know that you are met with a gentle embrace, a space held for the complex beauty of remembrance and the enduring legacy of those we hold dear.

This moment in time, this specific day or season, often acts as a gentle, or sometimes insistent, nudge. It is a waypoint on our journey, a place where the path behind us, rich with shared experiences, and the path ahead, now traversed with a different kind of awareness, converge. The air itself can feel charged with unspoken words, with laughter that echoes in our minds, with the warmth of a touch we can no longer feel. These are not moments to be rushed through or minimized, but rather, opportunities to deepen our understanding of ourselves and the enduring connections that shape us.

The text we will explore today, from Tanya, Part I, Likkutei Amarim 13:11, speaks to the intricate landscape of the human heart and soul. It delves into the perpetual dance between our innate inclinations, the constant interplay of light and shadow within us. For those navigating grief, this exploration can be a profound mirror. It offers a framework for understanding the often-conflicting emotions that arise, the moments of clarity and the periods of confusion, the inner battles that can feel both exhausting and, at times, even redemptive.

Consider, for a moment, the specific memory that has drawn you here today. Is it a person, a place, a shared experience? Allow yourself to gently touch that memory, not to dwell in sorrow, but to acknowledge its presence, its significance. It is in these moments, when we allow ourselves to be present with what is, that we can begin to weave the threads of memory into a richer understanding of our own journey. The passing of time, while sometimes marked by loss, also brings with it a deepening of perspective, a greater capacity for empathy, and a profound appreciation for the enduring power of love and connection. This time is not just about what is gone, but about what remains, what has been transformed, and what continues to bloom within us.

We are not alone in this intricate dance of the heart. The wisdom of our tradition, as reflected in the Tanya, reminds us that this internal landscape, this constant negotiation between our different impulses, is a universal human experience. It is a testament to the depth and complexity of our being. As we approach this text, we do so with an open heart, ready to find echoes of our own experiences, to discover new insights, and to feel the gentle support of a tradition that has long understood the profound journey of the soul.

The passage we will delve into speaks of the "intermediate person," the benoni, who is constantly navigating the interplay between their divine soul and their animal soul. This concept can resonate deeply with those who are grieving. Grief itself can feel like a state of being "intermediate" – not quite where we were, not yet where we will be. We exist in a liminal space, holding onto what was while tentatively reaching towards what can be. The text's exploration of inner conflict, of the constant negotiation, can offer a language for the often-unspoken struggles of the grieving heart. It suggests that this internal dialogue is not a sign of weakness, but a testament to the vitality and complexity of our inner lives. It highlights the constant effort required to align our actions with our deepest values, even when faced with overwhelming emotional currents. This is a journey of ongoing refinement, a continuous process of becoming, and in that, there is a profound and enduring hope.

Text Snapshot

From Tanya, Part I, Likkutei Amarim 13:11:

“Therewith will be understood the commentary of our Sages that ‘intermediate people are judged by both [the good and evil natures], for it is written, ‘When He stands at the right of the destitute to deliver him from the judges of his soul.’”

Note that they did not say “ruled” by both, G–d forbid, because where the evil nature gains any control and dominion over the “small city,” even though but temporarily, one is at such times deemed “wicked.” The evil nature [in the benoni], however, is no more than, for example, a magistrate or judge who gives his opinion on a point of law, yet it is not necessarily a final decision to be implemented in deed, for there is another magistrate or judge who is contesting this opinion. It is, therefore, necessary to arbitrate between the two, and the final verdict rests with the arbitrator. Similarly, the evil nature states its opinion in the left part of the heart, which thence ascends to the brain for contemplation. Immediately it is challenged by the second judge, the divine soul in the brain extending into the right part of the heart, the abode of the good nature. The final verdict comes from the arbitrator—the Holy One, blessed is He, who comes to the aid of the good nature, as our Sages said, “If the Holy One, blessed is He, did not help him, he could not overcome his evil inclination.”

The help comes by means of the glow radiated by the Divine light, which illuminates the divine soul, that it may gain the upper hand and mastery over the folly of the fool and evil nature, in the manner of the excellence of light over darkness... Yet, inasmuch as the evil in the [heart’s] left part of the benoni is in its innate strength, craving after all the pleasures of this world, not having been nullified in its minuteness in relation to the good, nor having been relegated from its position to any degree—except insofar as it has no authority and power to diffuse itself throughout the limbs of the body, because the Holy One, blessed is He, “stands at the right hand of the poor man,” helping him and irradiating his divine soul—such a person is likened to a “wicked man.” In the words of our Sages, “Even if the whole world tells you that you are righteous, in your own eyes regard yourself as if you were wicked”—not as actually wicked. But one should consider himself to be a benoni and not accept the world’s opinion which would have him believe that the evil in him has been dissolved by the good, which is the category of a tzaddik. Rather should he consider himself in his own estimation as if the very essence of the evil is in its full strength and might, in the left part, as from birth, and that nothing of it has ceased or departed; on the contrary, with the passing of time it has gained strength, because the man has indulged it considerably, in eating and drinking and other mundane pursuits.

This passage, from the foundational text of Chassidic philosophy, delves into the profound duality of human existence. It speaks of the "intermediate person" (benoni), a concept that can offer a powerful lens through which to examine the experience of grief. In grief, we often find ourselves in a state of flux, caught between the past and the present, between what was and what is. We are not entirely "wicked" in our despair, nor entirely "righteous" in our acceptance. Instead, we often exist in this very benoni space, wrestling with competing impulses and emotions. The text highlights the internal struggle, the "judges of his soul" – the forces within us that pull in different directions. It describes the "evil nature" and the "divine soul" as two distinct forces, each offering its counsel. This resonates with the often-conflicting feelings that grief can bring: the urge to withdraw versus the need for connection, the despair versus the flicker of hope, the anger versus the longing for peace.

The passage emphasizes that this internal conflict is not a sign of failure, but a fundamental aspect of our being. The "evil nature" is not necessarily a defeated enemy, but a persistent presence, much like a magistrate offering an opinion. It is the divine soul, aided by a "glow radiated by the Divine light," that ultimately contests this opinion. This offers a comforting perspective for those who feel overwhelmed by the intensity of their grief. It suggests that even in our darkest moments, there is an inherent divine spark, a capacity for resilience, and a guiding light that offers support. The text reassures us that we are not alone in this struggle; there is a cosmic arbitration, a divine intervention that aids our good inclination.

Furthermore, the teaching that one should regard oneself "as if you were wicked" is not an invitation to self-recrimination, but a call to humility and self-awareness. It acknowledges that the "evil nature" may remain in its full strength, even when our actions are aligned with goodness. This can be incredibly validating for grievers who may feel a persistent sense of inadequacy or guilt, even when they are functioning well. It suggests that the inner landscape is far more complex than outward appearances, and that a deep inner struggle can coexist with outward expressions of peace or strength. This understanding can liberate us from the pressure of performing a certain kind of grief, allowing us to acknowledge the full spectrum of our internal experience without judgment. The benoni is not defined by the absence of struggle, but by the ongoing commitment to engage with it, to allow the divine soul to gain the upper hand, even when the battle feels arduous.

The metaphor of the "small city" and its inhabitants – the magistrates and the arbitrator – provides a vivid image of our inner world. The heart, with its left and right chambers, becomes the arena where these internal debates unfold. The brain, as the seat of contemplation, receives these opinions. And ultimately, the divine presence, the Holy One, blessed is He, acts as the arbitrator, bringing a final, hopeful verdict. This imagery can be deeply comforting, suggesting that our inner lives are not chaotic, but are part of a grander, divinely ordered process. Even when we feel lost in the complexities of grief, there is an underlying order, a guiding hand that orchestrates the ultimate resolution. This perspective can foster a sense of trust in the process, even when the immediate experience is one of turmoil. It reminds us that while the journey is personal, it is also part of a larger, sacred narrative.

Kavvanah

Guided Meditation: The Inner Sanctuary of the Benoni in Grief

Close your eyes gently, or soften your gaze, and allow yourself to settle into this moment. Feel the gentle weight of your body, the rhythm of your breath. There is no need to force anything, only to invite a sense of presence. We are here to explore the concept of the benoni, the intermediate person, and how this ancient wisdom might offer solace and understanding in the intricate landscape of grief.

Take a deep breath in, and as you exhale, imagine releasing any tension you might be holding in your shoulders, your jaw, your brow. Feel the ground beneath you, a silent testament to your presence, to your enduring being. You are here, now, and that is enough.

The text speaks of two impulses within us: the "evil nature" and the "divine soul." Imagine these as two distinct energies, two voices within your inner sanctuary. Breathe into the space between these two forces. It is here, in this space, that the benoni resides. In grief, these voices can feel amplified, their calls more insistent. The "evil nature," as described in the text, might manifest as despair, as a sense of overwhelming loss, as the urge to withdraw from the world. It craves the familiar comforts of the past, the solace of what once was, and can feel like a powerful pull towards darkness.

Now, gently turn your attention to the "divine soul." This is the spark of the sacred within you, the part that yearns for connection, for meaning, for light. In grief, this divine soul might whisper of resilience, of enduring love, of the possibility of finding new ways to live and to remember. It is the part of you that seeks understanding, that looks for glimmers of hope even in the deepest shadows.

Breathe into the awareness of both these forces. They are not necessarily in opposition, but in a constant, dynamic interplay. The text describes them as "judges," each offering their opinion. Imagine your heart as a courtroom, where these two judges present their cases. The "evil nature" might argue for the permanence of your pain, the futility of hope, the overwhelming weight of absence. Listen to its arguments, not to be swayed, but to understand the terrain of your inner experience.

Then, allow the "divine soul" to present its case. It might speak of the enduring power of love, of the lessons learned, of the transformed nature of connection. It might remind you of the strength that lies dormant within, the capacity for healing and for growth. Feel the presence of the "arbitrator," the Holy One, blessed is He, who stands at the right hand of the vulnerable, offering aid. This is not a passive waiting for a verdict, but an active engagement with the divine light that illuminates your inner being.

In grief, this arbitration can feel like a constant negotiation. There are moments when the "evil nature" seems to hold sway, when the darkness feels all-consuming. These are the moments when the text’s caution about being "deemed wicked" if the evil nature gains control, even temporarily, can feel profound. It speaks to the intensity of these periods, the feeling of being lost in the storm. Yet, the text reassures us that this is not a permanent state. The divine soul, empowered by this light, can gain the "upper hand and mastery."

Consider the metaphor of the "small city." Your body, your mind, your emotions are this city. The divine soul, residing in the brain, has dominion over the heart's impulses. In grief, this dominion can feel challenged. The impulses of sorrow, of longing, of anger can feel overwhelming, threatening to flood the city. Yet, the divine soul, aided by the light, can bring order. It can direct the "thought, speech, and act" towards healing, towards remembrance, towards finding meaning.

The teaching to regard yourself "as if you were wicked" is a powerful invitation to humility and honesty. It asks us to acknowledge that even amidst our efforts to live a good life, to honor our loved ones, the "evil nature" – the impulses that can lead to despair or self-neglect – may still hold its innate strength. This is not a condemnation, but a recognition of the ongoing human struggle. In grief, this can mean acknowledging the persistent shadows, the moments of doubt, the feelings of inadequacy, without allowing them to define our entire being. It is about recognizing that the essence of our struggle may remain, even as our actions are guided by a higher purpose.

Allow yourself to feel the truth of this in your own experience. Where do you feel the pull of the "evil nature" in your grief? Perhaps it is in the moments of intense loneliness, in the feeling of being forgotten, or in the anger at the unfairness of loss. And where do you feel the presence of the "divine soul"? Perhaps it is in the flicker of a cherished memory, in the comfort of a supportive friend, in the quiet moments of reflection that bring a sense of peace.

Breathe into the understanding that you are a benoni. You are in a process of becoming, of navigating these inner currents. The hope lies not in the absence of struggle, but in the strength to engage with it, to allow the divine light to illuminate your path. The "glow radiated by the Divine light" is always available, a constant source of illumination for your divine soul. It is this light that helps you gain the upper hand, not by eradicating the darkness, but by shining so brightly that the darkness loses its dominion.

As you continue to breathe, imagine this light radiating from your chest, filling your entire being. Feel its warmth, its gentle strength. This light is your inheritance, your constant companion. It empowers your divine soul to navigate the complexities of your grief, to find meaning amidst the sorrow, and to carry forward the legacy of love. This is the essence of the benoni's journey: a constant, courageous engagement with the full spectrum of our inner lives, guided by an unwavering divine light.

Take another deep breath, and as you exhale, gently return your awareness to the room. Carry this sense of inner arbitration, of divine light, and of the enduring strength of the benoni within you as you continue your day.

Deeper Reflection on the Benoni and Grief

The concept of the benoni, the intermediate person, as articulated in Tanya, offers a profound and nuanced perspective for navigating the complexities of grief. It moves us beyond simplistic notions of "good" or "bad" days, or the pressure to achieve a state of perpetual acceptance. Instead, it acknowledges the inherent duality of human experience, a duality that grief often brings into stark relief.

When we grieve, we are often in a state of transition, existing in a liminal space. We are no longer entirely defined by the life we lived with our loved one, but we are not yet fully integrated into a life without them. This is a deeply "intermediate" state. The text’s description of the benoni as being judged by both good and evil natures, as constantly negotiating between them, resonates powerfully with this experience. The overwhelming emotions of grief – the sorrow, the anger, the longing, the fear – can feel like the forces of the "evil nature" gaining temporary dominion. There are moments when the weight of absence feels crushing, when the joy of life seems inaccessible, and when the "wickedness" of despair can feel all-encompassing.

However, the text’s crucial distinction is that the benoni is not "ruled" by these impulses. The evil nature is like a "magistrate or judge who gives his opinion," but it is not necessarily a final, implemented decision. This is where the hope lies for the griever. The intense pain, the overwhelming sadness, the moments of profound loneliness are like opinions presented in the inner courtroom of the heart. They are real, they are valid, and they demand to be heard. But they are not the final verdict. The divine soul, the spark of the sacred within us, challenges these opinions. It is the divine soul that yearns for solace, for meaning, for connection, even in the darkest hours.

The text speaks of the Holy One, blessed be He, standing at the "right hand of the destitute to deliver him from the judges of his soul." This imagery is incredibly comforting for those in the throes of grief. It suggests that we are not alone in this internal arbitration. There is a divine presence, a benevolent force, that aids our good inclination. This divine light "illuminates the divine soul, that it may gain the upper hand and mastery over the folly of the fool and evil nature." In grief, this "mastery" doesn't mean the eradication of pain, but the ability to move through it, to integrate it into our lives without being consumed by it. It is the capacity to find moments of peace, to connect with enduring love, and to continue living with purpose, even amidst loss.

The instruction to "regard yourself as if you were wicked" is perhaps one of the most challenging, yet ultimately liberating, aspects of this teaching for the grieving. It is not an endorsement of self-deprecation, but a profound call to humility and self-awareness. It acknowledges that the "evil nature," the impulses that can lead to despair or self-destruction, may still reside within us in their "innate strength." In grief, this can manifest as persistent self-doubt, as guilt over perceived shortcomings, or as a feeling of being irrevocably broken. By acknowledging this possibility, by holding it in our awareness without letting it define us, we can prevent it from gaining absolute dominion. We can recognize these feelings as opinions, as challenges, but not as the final truth of our being. This honesty allows us to approach ourselves with greater compassion, understanding that the journey of grief is rarely linear and often involves wrestling with these persistent inner voices.

The analogy of the "small city" – our internal world – further illuminates this process. The heart, with its left (animal soul) and right (divine soul) aspects, is the battleground. The brain, as the seat of intellect, plays a crucial role in mediating these impulses. In grief, the animal soul might cry out for comfort in unhealthy ways, seeking solace in escapism or isolation. The divine soul, however, can guide our thoughts and actions towards healthier outlets – towards connection, towards creative expression, towards acts of remembrance that honor our loved ones. The "arbitrator," the divine presence, ensures that the ultimate verdict aligns with our higher purpose.

The benoni's service of God, even when marked by fleeting moments of love and devotion during prayer, is considered "true service" within their own rank. This is a crucial point for grievers who may feel their efforts to cope or to find meaning are insufficient or temporary. The text validates these efforts. The love experienced during prayer, though it may pass, is a genuine expression of the divine soul’s connection. The ability to reawaken this love, day after day, through "appropriate preparation," is a testament to the enduring strength of the benoni. In grief, this means recognizing the value of every small step towards healing, every moment of connection, every act of remembrance, as genuine expressions of our resilience and our enduring love. These moments, however fleeting, are the "lip of truth" that can be established forever within our hearts.

Ultimately, the benoni's journey in grief is one of constant engagement, of courageous self-awareness, and of unwavering trust in the divine light that guides us. It is a recognition that the struggle is not a sign of failure, but a testament to the depth and vitality of our souls. By embracing this understanding, we can navigate the complexities of grief with greater compassion, hope, and a profound sense of enduring connection.

Practice

The path of remembrance and legacy is deeply personal, and the practices that support it can be as varied and unique as the lives we honor. The wisdom of Tanya, particularly its exploration of the inner life, invites us to engage with our grief and remembrance through intentional actions that can bring comfort, meaning, and a sense of enduring connection. Here are a few micro-practices, designed to be accessible and adaptable, offering different avenues for you to explore. Choose the one that resonates most with you in this moment, or perhaps consider them as options for different days or different aspects of your journey.

Option 1: The Candle of Enduring Light

This practice draws on the imagery of light in the Tanya, the divine light that illuminates the soul and helps us gain mastery over our inner struggles. It is a simple yet powerful way to create a tangible focal point for remembrance and to acknowledge the enduring presence of those we have lost.

The Practice:

1. Find a Quiet Space: Choose a time and place where you can be undisturbed for at least 5-10 minutes. This could be a corner of your home, a quiet spot outdoors, or even a designated space for remembrance.
2. Select Your Candle: Choose a candle that feels meaningful to you. It could be a simple white taper candle, a beeswax candle, a votive, or even a specially chosen memorial candle. The color, scent, and size are less important than the intention you bring to it.
3. Gather Your Materials: You will need your chosen candle and a way to light it safely (matches, lighter). You might also want a small plate or heat-resistant surface to place the candle on.
4. Light the Candle with Intention: As you light the candle, hold in your mind the person you are remembering. Speak their name aloud, or simply hold their name and essence in your heart. Your intention could be: "I light this candle to honor the memory of [Name], and to acknowledge the enduring light of their presence in my life." Or, you might say: "May this light be a beacon of remembrance, connecting me to the love we shared."
5. Sit in Presence: Once the candle is lit, sit in quiet contemplation. Allow the flame to draw your attention. Notice its gentle flicker, its warmth, its steady glow. Imagine this light as a representation of the divine light mentioned in the Tanya, illuminating your divine soul, offering clarity and comfort amidst the shadows of grief.
6. Reflect and Connect: As you gaze at the flame, consider the qualities of the person you are remembering. What was their light? What gifts did they bring to the world? How does their memory continue to illuminate your own life, even now? You might silently recall a cherished memory, a piece of advice they gave, or a characteristic that you deeply admired.
7. Acknowledge the Benoni Within: Connect this practice to the Tanya's teaching about the benoni. Recognize that even as you hold onto the light of remembrance, you may also be experiencing the challenges of grief. This candle is a reminder that the divine light within you is always present, offering strength and guidance, even when the shadows feel long. Your act of lighting and observing the candle is an act of engaging your divine soul, allowing it to gain mastery.
8. Extinguish with Gratitude: When you are ready, gently extinguish the flame. As you do so, offer a word of gratitude. You might say: "Thank you for the light you brought into my life, and thank you for the enduring light of your memory." Or simply: "Thank you."
9. Observe the Lingering Glow: Even after the flame is out, take a moment to notice the residual warmth or the faint scent of the candle. This can be a reminder that the impact of those we love, and the process of remembrance, continues to resonate within us.

Why This Practice is Helpful:

• Tangible Symbolism: The candle provides a concrete, visual representation of memory and enduring presence.
• Focus and Stillness: It encourages a pause in the busyness of life, creating a sacred space for reflection.
• Connection to Divine Light: It directly connects to the Tanya's concept of divine illumination, offering a sense of inner strength and guidance.
• Acknowledgement of Inner Struggle: It allows for the recognition of both the love for the departed and the ongoing challenges of grief, fostering self-compassion.
• Empowerment: The act of lighting and observing the candle is an active engagement with one's inner life, aligning with the benoni's effort to strengthen the divine soul.

Option 2: The Whispering Name, The Echoing Story

This practice centers on the power of spoken word and narrative, acknowledging the importance of voice and personal history in the process of remembrance. It draws on the understanding that our stories, and the stories of those we love, are vital threads in the tapestry of meaning.

The Practice:

1. Choose Your Storyteller: Decide if you will be sharing this story alone, or with a trusted friend or family member. If you are alone, imagine you are speaking to the person you are remembering, or to a compassionate inner witness. If you are with another, agree beforehand on the intention to share and listen with open hearts.
2. Select a "Whispering Name" Moment: Think of a specific memory or anecdote associated with the person you are remembering. This doesn't need to be a grand, defining moment, but rather a small, intimate detail – a phrase they often used, a particular habit they had, a moment of simple joy, or even a quirky characteristic. This is their "whispering name" moment, a subtle but significant echo of their presence.
3. Prepare Your Telling: Take a few moments to recall the details of this memory. Who was there? What was the setting? What was said or done? What emotions were present? The goal is not to craft a perfect narrative, but to access the feeling and essence of the moment.
4. Begin the Telling:
   • If alone: Start by saying the person's name aloud. Then, begin to share the story. You might say, "I was thinking about you today, [Name], and this memory came to mind..." or "I want to share a small story about you, [Name], that always brings a smile to my face..." Speak slowly and deliberately, allowing the words to flow naturally.
   • If with another: One person begins by saying the name of the person they are remembering. Then, they share their chosen memory. The listener's role is to be fully present, to listen without interruption, and to offer gentle nods of understanding or empathy.
5. Embrace the Benoni in the Narrative: As you share, be aware of the interplay of emotions. You might feel joy in recounting a happy memory, but also a pang of sadness at the absence. This is the essence of the benoni in action – acknowledging both the light and the shadow within the experience of remembrance. The act of speaking, of giving voice to the memory, is an engagement of your divine soul, allowing it to articulate and process the experience.
6. Listen for the Echo: After sharing, pause and listen. If you are alone, listen to the silence that follows the words. What feelings arise? What insights emerge? If you are with another, allow them to respond with their own reflections or affirmations. They might share a similar memory, or offer a thought about the significance of what you've shared.
7. Connect to Legacy: Consider how this "whispering name" story contributes to the larger legacy of the person you remember. Even small details reveal character, values, and the impact they had on those around them. This practice helps to weave these smaller threads into a richer understanding of their life.
8. Offer a Blessing (Optional): You might conclude by offering a silent or spoken blessing for the person remembered, or for yourself as you continue to carry their memory. For example, "May your memory be a blessing, and may I continue to find strength in the stories we shared."

Why This Practice is Helpful:

• Voice and Agency: It empowers you to actively shape and share the narrative of remembrance.
• Emotional Processing: Vocalizing memories can help to process complex emotions associated with grief.
• Deepening Connection: Sharing stories creates a profound sense of connection to the person remembered and, if done in community, to others who also hold their memory.
• Preserving Legacy: It ensures that the nuanced details of a life are not lost, but are preserved and passed on.
• Embracing Duality: It allows for the natural interplay of joy and sorrow, reflecting the benoni's internal experience.

Option 3: The Seed of Tzedakah: Planting Meaning in Absence

This practice transforms the experience of absence into an act of purpose and connection, aligning with the principle of tzedakah (righteousness, charity) as a way to bring goodness into the world. It is a way to channel the energy of remembrance into concrete actions that honor life and perpetuate positive impact.

The Practice:

1. Identify a Cause or Need: Reflect on the values, passions, or causes that were important to the person you are remembering. What did they care about? What kind of impact did they wish to have? This could be anything from supporting a local animal shelter, contributing to educational programs, advocating for environmental causes, helping those in need, or supporting the arts.
2. Choose a "Seed" of Tzedakah: Decide on a specific, manageable action you can take. This could be a financial donation, volunteering your time, raising awareness for a cause, or performing a random act of kindness in their name. The "seed" should feel like a meaningful gesture, proportionate to your capacity.
3. Connect to Tanya's Wisdom: Consider how this act of tzedakah relates to the concept of the benoni. By engaging in this purposeful action, you are actively strengthening your divine soul. You are taking the energy of your love and remembrance and channeling it into something positive and constructive, thus gaining mastery over any impulses of despair or inaction. This is a deliberate act of bringing light into the world, mirroring the divine light that illuminates our inner selves.
4. Perform the Act of Tzedakah:
   • Donation: If making a financial donation, write a check or make an online contribution in their name. You might write a note to the organization explaining that this donation is in honor of [Name] and their commitment to [specific value or cause].
   • Volunteering: Dedicate a block of time to volunteering for an organization that aligns with their values.
   • Random Act of Kindness: Perform a simple act of kindness for a stranger, with the intention that it be a reflection of the kindness and spirit of the person you remember. This could be buying coffee for the person behind you in line, leaving a generous tip, or offering a helping hand to someone in need.
   • Awareness: Share information about a cause they cared about on social media, or engage in conversations with others about their passions.
5. Reflect on the Planting: After performing the act of tzedakah, take a moment to reflect on the experience. How did it feel to take this action in their name? What kind of impact do you hope this "seed" will have? Consider the ripples of goodness that can emanate from this single act.
6. Nurture the Legacy: Understand that this act is not a one-time event, but the planting of a seed that can continue to grow. You might consider making this an annual practice, or seeking out other ways to support the causes they championed. This continuous engagement ensures that their legacy of goodness continues to flourish.
7. Affirm the Benoni's Purpose: Recognize that by engaging in acts of tzedakah, you are actively living out the principles of your divine soul. You are demonstrating that even in the face of loss, life can be infused with purpose and meaning, bringing goodness into the world. This is a powerful affirmation of your own journey as a benoni, striving to align your actions with your highest values.

Why This Practice is Helpful:

• Transforming Absence into Presence: It shifts the focus from what is lost to what can be created, finding a tangible way to honor the departed.
• Creating Meaning: It imbues the experience of grief with purpose and can provide a sense of direction.
• Connecting to Values: It reinforces the values and passions of the person remembered, keeping their spirit alive.
• Active Engagement: It is a proactive practice that moves beyond passive reflection, fostering a sense of agency.
• Generative Goodness: It contributes to the well-being of others and the world, perpetuating a cycle of positivity.

Community

Grief is a journey that, while deeply personal, is immeasurably enriched and supported by the presence of others. The wisdom of Tanya, in its intricate portrayal of the human psyche, implicitly underscores the interconnectedness of our souls. While the internal arbitration between our impulses is a private matter, the support systems we build and engage with are vital for navigating the challenges and celebrating the enduring love. In times of remembrance and grief, extending ourselves to community, or receiving their solace, can be a profound act of strengthening our divine souls and finding a sense of collective resilience.

Option 1: The Circle of Shared Stories

This practice involves intentionally creating a space with others to share memories and acknowledge the impact of the person you remember. It transforms individual remembrance into a collective experience, weaving together a richer tapestry of their legacy.

The Practice:

1. Gather Your Circle: Reach out to a few trusted individuals who shared a connection with the person you are remembering. This could be family members, close friends, colleagues, or anyone who holds a significant memory. You can invite them for a specific occasion, like a yahrzeit or anniversary, or simply for a "memory sharing" gathering.
2. Set the Intention: Begin by clearly stating the purpose of your gathering. You might say: "We've gathered today to remember [Name], and to share some of the stories and memories that highlight their life and the impact they had on us. This is a space for open hearts and honest reflection."
3. Facilitate the Sharing:
   • Opening: You could start by sharing a brief, meaningful memory yourself, setting a warm and inviting tone.
   • Round Robin (Optional): If your group is comfortable, you could go around the circle, with each person sharing one memory or characteristic they cherished.
   • Open Dialogue: Alternatively, allow for a more free-flowing conversation, where people can chime in as they feel moved.
   • Prompting (If Needed): If the conversation lulls, you can offer gentle prompts: "What was a time when [Name] made you laugh?" "What is a lesson you learned from them?" "What is something unique about them that you will always remember?"
4. Embrace the Benoni in Collective Grief: Acknowledge that even within a supportive group, individuals will be experiencing their grief differently. Some may feel the weight of sadness more acutely, while others might find comfort in shared laughter and lighter memories. This is the benoni dynamic playing out in a communal setting. The shared experience, the act of witnessing each other's emotions and memories, strengthens the collective divine soul of the group.
5. Listen with Compassion: Encourage active and compassionate listening. When someone shares, offer them your full attention, your presence, and perhaps a simple nod or a verbal affirmation like "Thank you for sharing that."
6. Honoring the Legacy Together: As stories are shared, a collective picture of the person's life and legacy will emerge. You might notice common themes or recurring qualities that highlight their essence. This shared understanding can be incredibly powerful.
7. Concluding with Gratitude: Before parting, express gratitude for everyone's presence and willingness to share. You might conclude with a collective statement: "Thank you all for being here and for sharing your precious memories of [Name]. Their legacy lives on in each of us, and in the stories we carry forward."

Sample Language for Inviting Others:

"Dear [Friend's Name], I'm reaching out because I'm planning a small gathering to remember [Name] on [Date/Occasion]. I would love for you to join us if you are able. I thought it would be a beautiful way for those of us who knew and loved [Name] to share some of our favorite memories and honor their life together. We'll be meeting at [Location] at [Time]. Please let me know if you might be able to make it. No pressure at all, but your presence would mean a lot."

Option 2: The Bridge of Support: Asking For and Offering Comfort

This practice focuses on the active exchange of support, recognizing that both giving and receiving comfort are essential aspects of navigating grief within a community. It’s about building bridges of understanding and care.

The Practice:

1. Identify Your Need (When You Need Support): When you are feeling overwhelmed or in need of connection, be brave enough to reach out. It doesn't have to be a grand declaration. Sometimes, a simple "I'm having a tough day and could use a listening ear" is enough.
2. Choose Your Bridge-Builder: Identify someone in your community – a friend, family member, spiritual leader, or therapist – whom you trust.
3. Extend an Invitation for Support: Reach out with a clear, but gentle, request.
   • Sample Language for Asking:
     • "Hi [Name], I'm finding today particularly difficult as I remember [Name]. Would you have some time to chat sometime this week? I could really use a friendly voice."
     • "I'm struggling with [specific feeling, e.g., loneliness, anxiety] today. If you have a moment, I'd appreciate it if you could just sit with me, or perhaps we could go for a short walk."
     • "I'm planning to [do a specific remembrance activity, e.g., visit a place important to Name] on [Date]. If you're free and would like to join, I'd love the company."
4. Be Open to Receiving: When someone offers support, try to accept it with grace. You don't have to have all the answers or articulate your feelings perfectly. Simply being present with another person can be deeply healing. Allow yourself to be held.
5. Offer Support When You Can: As you navigate your own grief, you will also encounter others who are grieving or in need of comfort. Be attuned to their needs.
   • Sample Language for Offering:
     • "I was thinking of you and [Name of departed] today. Is there anything at all I can do to help, even if it's just listening?"
     • "I know [anniversary/holiday] can be a difficult time. I just wanted to let you know I'm here for you if you'd like to talk or just have some company."
     • "I noticed you were looking a bit down today. Is everything okay? I'm here if you need to talk."
6. Connect to the Benoni Dynamic: Recognize that offering and receiving support is a reciprocal act that strengthens the collective fabric of our souls. When we support others, we are engaging our divine soul, extending compassion and care. When we allow ourselves to be supported, we are acknowledging our vulnerability and trusting in the goodness of others, allowing their divine souls to connect with ours. This exchange mirrors the internal arbitration described in the Tanya, where different aspects of the soul engage and find balance.
7. The Power of Presence: Sometimes, the most profound form of support is simply being present. A shared silence, a gentle touch, or a warm embrace can convey more than words.

Option 3: The Legacy Project: Collaborative Remembrance

This practice involves creating something tangible and lasting with others that honors the legacy of the person you remember. It’s about building a shared monument to their life and impact.

The Practice:

1. Envision the Project: As a group (or even individually, with the intention of sharing the outcome), brainstorm ideas for a legacy project. This could be:
   • A Memory Book or Scrapbook: Collect photos, stories, poems, and artwork from different people.
   • A Garden or Memorial Space: Plant a tree, create a memorial bench, or contribute to a community garden in their name.
   • A Collection of Recipes: Compile favorite recipes, perhaps with personal anecdotes about cooking with or for the person.
   • A Charitable Fund or Initiative: Establish a small fund for a cause they cared about, or organize a one-time event to support it.
   • A Digital Archive: Create a dedicated website or online space to share memories, photos, and tributes.
2. Assign Roles and Responsibilities (If Group Project): If working with others, divide tasks based on individual strengths and interests. This fosters a sense of shared ownership and purpose.
3. Engage with the Benoni in Creation: The process of creation itself can be a profound act of remembrance. As you work on the project, you will naturally encounter a range of emotions – joy in remembering positive aspects, sadness at the finality of loss, and perhaps even frustration with the challenges of bringing the project to fruition. This is the benoni at work, integrating these different feelings into a cohesive and meaningful endeavor. The act of creation, driven by love and remembrance, is a powerful affirmation of the divine soul's capacity to bring beauty and meaning into existence.
4. Collaborate and Share: Work together, sharing updates, insights, and challenges. This collaborative process builds connection and strengthens the bonds between those who are remembering.
5. Celebrate the Completion: Once the project is complete, hold a small ceremony or gathering to celebrate its culmination and to honor the person it commemorates. This could involve unveiling the book, dedicating the garden, or presenting the charitable contribution.
6. The Enduring Impact: The legacy project serves as a lasting testament to the person's life and continues to be a source of connection and remembrance for years to come. It ensures that their story is not forgotten, but actively woven into the fabric of the community.

Sample Language for Initiating a Legacy Project:

"I've been thinking about how we can honor [Name]'s memory in a lasting way, and I had an idea for a [type of project, e.g., memory book]. I thought it would be wonderful if we could all contribute our favorite stories, photos, and anecdotes about [Name] to create a beautiful collection that we can all cherish. Would anyone be interested in collaborating on this with me? We could start by [suggested first step, e.g., brainstorming ideas for content]."

Takeaway

The journey through grief and remembrance is a sacred dance between the light of memory and the evolving landscape of our present. The wisdom of Tanya, particularly its exploration of the benoni – the intermediate person navigating the complex interplay of inner forces – offers a profound lens through which to understand this journey.

We are reminded that within us resides both the "evil nature," with its inclinations towards despair and inertia, and the "divine soul," with its yearning for connection, meaning, and light. Grief can amplify these inner voices, making the arbitration between them feel intense and at times overwhelming. Yet, the core message is one of hope: the divine light is always present, illuminating our inner being and empowering our divine soul to gain mastery, not by eradicating the darkness, but by shining its steady glow.

This understanding invites us to embrace our experience with self-compassion. The instruction to regard ourselves "as if you were wicked" is not a condemnation, but a call to honest self-awareness, acknowledging the persistent strength of our inner struggles without letting them define our ultimate worth. Our moments of love, remembrance, and purposeful action – even if they feel fleeting – are genuine expressions of our divine soul, contributing to a legacy of goodness.

Whether through the quiet ritual of lighting a candle, the spoken resonance of a cherished story, the generative act of tzedakah, or the shared embrace of community, we are invited to actively engage with our inner lives and to weave the threads of remembrance into the ongoing tapestry of our existence. These practices are not about erasing sorrow, but about integrating it, about finding enduring connection, and about allowing the light of those we love to continue to illuminate our path forward. In this ongoing dance, we discover the profound resilience of the human spirit and the everlasting power of love.