Tanya, Part I; Likkutei Amarim 6:1

Hook

We gather today to honor a memory, a presence that shaped our world, a soul whose absence leaves an echo in the quiet spaces of our lives. This moment is for remembering, for reflecting on the intricate tapestry of connection that binds us to those who have transitioned beyond our immediate sight. It is a time to acknowledge the enduring power of love and legacy, and to find solace and strength in the continuation of life, even as we hold the space for our grief. We are here to meet the profound experience of remembrance, not as a burden, but as a sacred opportunity to deepen our understanding of ourselves and our place in the unfolding story of existence.

Text Snapshot

"G–d has made one thing opposite the other." (Ecclesiastes 7:14)

Just as the divine soul is comprised of ten holy sefirot and three holy garments, so too does the soul derived from the sitra achara—the "other side"—consist of ten "crowns of impurity." These are the seven evil middot stemming from the four evil elements, and the intellect that begets them. These ten unclean categories, when engaged through thought, speech, or deed, become the "impure garments" that clothe them. All mundane affairs, all utterances and thoughts not directed toward G–d, are considered "vanity and striving after the wind," a "ruination of the spirit." The sitra achara receives its vitality not from the essence of G–d's holiness, but from "behind its back," descending through myriad degrees of diminishment until it can be incorporated within that separated thing, granting it existence. This world, with all its contents, is thus called the world of kelipot and sitra achara.

Kavvanah

As we hold the memory of our beloved, we are invited to contemplate the intricate dance of opposites that characterizes our existence, as illuminated by this ancient wisdom. The text speaks of a divine soul with holy garments, and a contrasting force, the sitra achara, with its "crowns of impurity" and "impure garments." This isn't a simplistic dualism, but a profound acknowledgment of the forces at play within ourselves and within the world. In our grief, we may feel ourselves pulled towards the shadows, towards the sense of emptiness and loss—the "ruination of the spirit." Yet, the wisdom reminds us that even in this perceived separation, even in the depths of our sorrow, the light of holiness still pervades, albeit sometimes in a diminished, "exiled" state.

Our intention, then, is to acknowledge the presence of both these forces within our experience of remembrance. We can hold the pain, the longing, the sense of what is missing, without allowing it to be the sole narrative. We can recognize that the "impure garments" of our grief—the thoughts, the tears, the heavy silences—are not the entirety of our being, nor the entirety of the connection we share with the one we remember. We can choose to seek out, even in the midst of our sorrow, the subtle threads of holiness that remain, the enduring love, the shared wisdom, the positive impact that continues to ripple through our lives. Our kavvanah is to approach this remembrance with an expansive heart, one that can hold the weight of loss while simultaneously reaching for the enduring light. It is to understand that even in the most challenging moments, the essence of what we cherish is not truly lost, but perhaps transformed, veiled, or waiting to be re-discovered. This practice is not about denying our pain, but about integrating it into a larger understanding of existence, one that acknowledges the presence of both shadow and light, and finds a path toward healing and continued meaning.

Practice

In this moment, we can gently engage with the profound idea that G–d has "made one thing opposite the other." This concept, while seemingly abstract, can offer us a tangible pathway to navigate the complexities of grief and remembrance. We will engage in a micro-practice of intentional reflection, offering ourselves a moment of focused attention.

Candle Lighting: A Beacon of Light and Shadow

Consider lighting a candle. This simple act can be a potent symbol. The flame represents the enduring spirit, the light of memory, the warmth of love that continues to shine, even in the darkness of absence. As the flame flickers, acknowledge that it also casts shadows. These shadows can represent the grief, the pain, the void left behind. Allow yourself to observe both the light and the shadow without judgment. The presence of the shadow does not diminish the light; in fact, it can help us appreciate the light more profoundly.

• Choice: You might choose a white candle to symbolize purity and peace, a yellow candle for hope and joy, or a dark candle to acknowledge the depth of your sorrow. The color is a personal resonance.
• Action: As you light the candle, you might whisper an intention, such as: "May this flame illuminate the enduring light of [Name]'s memory, and may I find peace in acknowledging the shadows of my grief."

Naming: Honoring the Presence

The text speaks of "impure garments" and "unclean categories." In our remembrance, we can choose to actively counter these by focusing on the purity and goodness of the one we are remembering.

• Choice: You can choose to write down the name of the person you are remembering. You might write it on a piece of paper, or simply hold it in your mind's eye.
• Action: If writing, as you inscribe their name, consider one or two specific qualities that embodied their sacred essence – perhaps their kindness, their humor, their wisdom, their strength, or their unique way of seeing the world. Speak these qualities aloud or think them with deep intention. For example, "I remember [Name]'s [quality]." This act of naming their positive essence actively counters any tendency to dwell solely on what is perceived as lost or "impure" in the absence. It is an act of affirming their sacred presence in your life.

Storytelling: Weaving Meaning from Experience

The concept of "vanity and striving after the wind" can resonate with feelings of futility in the face of loss. We can counter this by actively weaving meaning from the stories of our loved ones.

• Choice: Think of a brief, simple story that encapsulates a core aspect of their being or a significant moment you shared. It doesn't need to be dramatic or profound in a worldly sense. It could be a moment of quiet connection, a shared laugh, or a lesson they taught you.
• Action: Share this story aloud, either to yourself, to the candle, or to a trusted confidante. As you share, notice how the act of recounting the story brings their presence back into focus, infusing the present moment with their essence. This is not about erasing the pain, but about acknowledging that their life created tangible moments of meaning and connection that continue to exist.

Tzedakah: Extending the Legacy

The text touches upon the idea of vitality deriving from G–d's holiness. We can extend this vitality through acts of tzedakah (righteousness or charity) in their name.

• Choice: Consider a cause or an act of kindness that would have resonated with the person you are remembering, or that reflects a value they held dear. This could be a financial donation, a volunteer effort, or a simple act of compassion.
• Action: Make a small commitment to this act. It could be setting aside a specific amount of money over the next week, planning to volunteer for a few hours, or simply resolving to offer a kindness to someone in their name. This practice transforms the energy of remembrance into a positive force in the world, perpetuating their legacy of goodness and vitality.

These micro-practices are invitations, gentle ways to engage with the profound themes presented. Choose the one that resonates most deeply with you in this moment, or feel free to adapt them to your own inner landscape. The intention is not perfection, but presence and a gentle exploration of meaning.

Community

In acknowledging the "one thing opposite the other," we recognize that our individual experiences of grief and remembrance are deeply intertwined with the human condition, and that we are not meant to bear these burdens alone. The text speaks of the sitra achara as a force that can isolate, but it also implicitly points to the power of connection to holiness.

Sharing a Memory: A Collective Tapestry

The wisdom of our tradition often emphasizes the power of communal gathering, that "On every gathering of ten [Jews] the Shechinah rests." While we may not be in a large group, we can tap into this communal spirit by intentionally reaching out.

• Choice: Consider reaching out to one or two trusted individuals who also knew and loved the person you are remembering. This could be a family member, a close friend, or a colleague.
• Action: You might send a brief text, email, or make a short phone call. Instead of focusing on the absence, you could share a simple, positive memory of the person you are remembering. For instance, you might say, "I was just thinking about [Name] today, and I remembered that time when [brief, positive anecdote]. It brought a smile to my face." This act of sharing not only honors the memory but also creates a ripple of connection, reminding both you and the other person that the essence of the one remembered continues to live on in shared experiences and stories. It allows for a collective acknowledgment of the light they brought into the world, even as you both hold the space for your individual grief. This shared remembrance can be a source of comfort and a testament to the enduring bonds that transcend physical presence.