וּבָזֶה יוּבָן מַה שֶּׁכָּתוּב: "וְשַׁבְתֶּם וּרְאִיתֶם בֵּין צַדִּיק לְרָשָׁע, בֵּין עוֹבֵד אֱלֹהִים לַאֲשֶׁר לֹא עֲבָדוֹ״ (מלאכי ג, יח).

With this description of the beinoni, we can understand the verse "You will return and see the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between one who serves God and one who does not serve Him" (Mal. 3:18). This verse divides people into four categories: the righteous, the wicked, one who serves God, and one who does not serve Him. The Talmud discusses the apparent duplicate wording of "the righteous" and "one who serves God" and "the wicked" and "one who does not serve Him," concluding that the one who serves God and the one who does not represent two categories of tzaddikim. The author of the Tanya will proceed to fill in the picture with greater detail in accordance with his approach: The one who serves God and the one who does not serve Him can also be two categories of beinoni.

שֶׁהַהֶפְרֵשׁ בֵּין עוֹבֵד אֱלֹהִים לְצַדִּיק הוּא שֶׁעוֹבֵד הוּא לְשׁוֹן הֹוֶה, שֶׁהוּא בְּאֶמְצַע הָעֲבוֹדָה שֶׁהִיא הַמִּלְחָמָה עִם הַיֵּצֶר הָרַע לְהִתְגַּבֵּר עָלָיו וּלְגָרְשׁוֹ מֵהָעִיר קְטַנָּה, שֶׁלֹּא יִתְלַבֵּשׁ בְּאֶבְרֵי הַגּוּף, שֶׁהוּא בֶּאֱמֶת עֲבוֹדָה וְעָמָל גָּדוֹל לְהִלָּחֵם בּוֹ תָּמִיד – וְהַיְינוּ הַבֵּינוֹנִי.

The difference between one who serves God and the tzaddik is that the term for "serves," oved, is in the present tense, implying that he is in the midst of laboring in his service of God, which is the war that he is waging against the evil inclination, wherein he struggles to prevail over it and drive it out of the small city so that it will not become clothed in the limbs of the body. Constantly waging war against the evil inclination truly entails considerable labor and toil. This is the beinoni . The beinoni is called, in the active present, "one who serves," because he is continually engaged in the battle with the evil inclination for control of his own body, the "small city." For the beinoni, this war is not a finite episode that occurred sometime in the past. It is ongoing, for the duration of his life.

אֲבָל הַצַּדִּיק נִקְרָא עֶבֶד ה׳ בְּשֵׁם הַתּוֹאַר, כְּמוֹ שֵׁם ‘חָכָם׳ אוֹ ‘מֶלֶךְ׳, שֶׁכְּבָר נַעֲשָׂה חָכָם אוֹ מֶלֶךְ. כָּךְ זֶה, כְּבָר עָבַד וְגָמַר לְגַמְרֵי עֲבוֹדַת הַמִּלְחָמָה עִם הָרַע עַד כִּי וַיְגָרְשֵׁהוּ וַיֵּלֶךְ לוֹ וְ׳לִבּוֹ חָלָל בְּקִרְבּוֹ׳.

But the tzaddik is referred to with the appellation "servant of God," similar to the title "sage" or "king," where one has already become a sage or king. So too this tzaddik has already labored and completely finished the labor of waging war against the evil within him to the extent that he has driven it out and it is gone from him, and, consequently, his heart is "hollow" within him. The left side of the tzaddik's heart, the abode of the evil inclination, is empty. The tzaddik is not one who is "serving" God, in a constant struggle against his evil nature, because he no longer has such a nature. He is called a "servant of God" since that describes his essence. He no longer has to work toward becoming one who serves. He is already there. The beinoni, by contrast, will never reach that plateau. His life is a work in progress. He is on the path, and he struggles. For that reason, he is called one who serves. He is constantly serving God throughout his life in the battle against his evil inclination. The difference between a worker and a servant can illustrate this distinction. During the hours that a worker is active, he is called a worker. The moment he stops, he ceases to be a worker. A servant, on the other hand, need not be active in order to be called a servant. His entire identity is bound up with his service. A king also does not have to do anything in particular to be called a king. He is the king because he already has that standing; he is a king at his essence. In this sense, the tzaddik is not one who serves. He has completed that phase of the struggle. Now he can be called a servant of God. His position regarding the service of God is static. Though he may not have attained perfection, he has closed a chapter of his life. Those challenges no longer exist for him. When a child learns the multiplication tables, he activates his conceptual thinking time and again: How much is six times seven? How much is seven times eight? Over time, though, he no longer has to drill himself in these exercises. The challenges cease being challenges; his efforts are unconscious. When learning to read or to master a new language, the student repeatedly practices forming letters and writing words. Yet he reaches a point at which these matters are no longer an issue, when ideas modulate into language without confusion. Similarly, a tzaddik has reached a stage where he no longer serves. His exertions are past history, and the battleground between good and evil is silenced. Such a distinction is also found in the realm of the most basic human desires. A young child must be taught what to eat and what to avoid. Left to his own devices, he would eat anything. An adult, by contrast, need not be told to avoid harmful things. Lack of discernment is not an issue, because inedible substances already disgust him. Similarly, a tzaddik chooses good and shuns evil. Just as the thought of eating something dangerous or repulsive would never occur to a normal person, so too a tzaddik chooses good and never entertains a base thought. The likelihood that he will gossip or commit any other wrongdoing is as remote as a member of our culture dining on tainted food.

וּבַבֵּינוֹנִי יֵשׁ גַּם כֵּן שְׁתֵּי מַדְרֵגוֹת: ‘עוֹבֵד אֱלֹהִים׳ וַ׳אֲשֶׁר לֹא עֲבָדוֹ׳. וְאַף עַל פִּי כֵן אֵינוֹ רָשָׁע, כִּי לֹא עָבַר מִיָּמָיו שׁוּם עֲבֵירָה קַלָּה וְגַם קִיֵּים כָּל הַמִּצְוֹת שֶׁאֶפְשָׁר לוֹ לְקַיְּימָן "וְתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶגֶד כּוּלָּם״ (פאה פרק א משנה א), וְלָא פָּסֵיק פּוּמֵיהּ מִגִּירְסָא,

There are also two levels in the category of beinoni : "one who serves God" and "one who does not serve Him." Nevertheless, even the beinoni who is categorized as one who does not serve Him is not wicked, since he never in his life transgressed even a minor sin, and he has also fulfilled all the mitzvot in the Torah that he is able to perform, including Torah study, which is equivalent to all the commandments (Pe'a 1:1), and his mouth never ceased from the study of Torah. The beinoni "who does not serve God" also studies Torah whenever he is able, in between his performance of the mitzvot. Though at first glance he appears perfect in his turning away from evil and doing good, he is not a tzaddik but a beinoni, and a low-level beinoni at that, who is not "serving God."

אֶלָּא שֶׁאֵינוֹ עוֹשֶׂה שׁוּם מִלְחָמָה עִם הַיֵּצֶר לְנַצְּחוֹ עַל יְדֵי אוֹר ה׳ הַמֵּאִיר עַל נֶפֶשׁ הָאֱלֹהִית שֶׁבַּמּוֹחַ הַשַּׁלִּיט עַל הַלֵּב, כַּנִּזְכָּר לְעֵיל,

Yet he wages no war against the evil inclination to vanquish it by means of God's light that illuminates the divine soul that abides in the brain, which governs the heart, as mentioned above (chap. 12), What is missing here is the struggle. Throughout his life, the beinoni turns away from evil and does good. He studies Torah and fulfills the mitzvot. Nevertheless, he does not wage war against his evil inclination. He serves God not from a burning inner love or awe but because he possesses a character that complements this lifestyle.

מִפְּנֵי שֶׁאֵין יִצְרוֹ עוֹמֵד לְנֶגְדּוֹ כְּלָל לְבַטְּלוֹ מִתּוֹרָתוֹ וַעֲבוֹדָתוֹ וְאֵין צָרִיךְ לִלְחוֹם עִמּוֹ כְּלָל.

because his evil inclination does not oppose him at all to deter him from his Torah study and his divine service, and he has no need whatsoever to wage war against it. This flies in the face of conventional experience. For most, turning away from evil and doing good means struggling against an array of clashing urges and desires that are on a collision course with this goal. Yet one can be built differently. A person may fulfill the mitzvot with the utmost attention to detail, he may study Torah diligently, and he does not feel compromised in the least. His natural bent for divine service precludes any need for conflict to realign his priorities or wrestle with his animal soul to preserve his core values as a Jew. Living in accordance with the Torah puts him at ease, in perfect consonance with his nature and personality.

כְּגוֹן שֶׁהוּא מַתְמִיד בְּלִמּוּדוֹ בְּטִבְעוֹ מִתּוֹלַדְתּוֹ עַל יְדֵי תִּגְבּוֹרֶת הַמָּרָה שְׁחוֹרָה.

He may, for example, be diligent in his Torah study by his inborn nature due to a predominance of melancholy. Some people tend toward melancholy by nature. A tempestuous life, whether in the realm of holiness or of impurity, holds no attraction for them. They are happy to stay in one place and focus on single occupation. Contentment lies in quiet continuity. If they have an intellectual bent and matters of the spirit interest them, then the coziest means for self-realization is to sit and study. This requires no self-sacrifice on their part. On the contrary, it is an expression of their unique personality, and they will act this way in whatever situation they find themselves. Such a person is the quintessential bookworm. He does not struggle with devoting every spare moment to Torah study. There is no contest between the divine soul and the animal soul. This is his animal soul.

וְכֵן אֵין לוֹ מִלְחָמָה מִתַּאֲוַת נָשִׁים מִפְּנֵי שֶׁהוּא מְצוּנָּן בְּטִבְעוֹ. וְכֵן בִּשְׁאָר תַּעֲנוּגֵי עוֹלָם הַזֶּה הוּא מְחוּסַּר הֶרְגֵּשׁ הֲנָאָה בְּטִבְעוֹ.

Similarly, he may not battle against feelings of lust for women because of his frigid temperament. The same is true of the other pleasures of this world: By nature, he lacks any feeling for physical enjoyment. The capacity to enjoy sensual pleasures differs from one person to the next. Yet a lack of sensuality is no indication of spiritual achievement or righteousness. A person may not pay any attention to what he eats or what he sees, and the same applies to sexual desire. Such an individual can sit in a study hall and be occupied with the fulfillment of mitzvot while the world around him presents no temptation. He gets dressed every morning, has his breakfast, and goes about his business. His single-minded focus on Torah study does not stem from a magnetic attraction to holiness. He is simply disinclined by nature to do anything else. He could be a clerk, a professor, or a rabbi. It makes no difference; his disposition would be the same.

וְלָכֵן אֵין צָרִיךְ לְהִתְבּוֹנֵן כָּל כָּךְ בִּגְדוּלַּת ה׳ לְהוֹלִיד מִבִּינָתוֹ רוּחַ דַּעַת וְיִרְאַת ה׳ בְּמוֹחוֹ לְהִשָּׁמֵר שֶׁלֹּא לַעֲבוֹר עַל מִצְוֹת ‘לֹא תַעֲשֶׂה׳, וְאַהֲבַת ה׳ בְּלִבּוֹ לְדָבְקָה בּוֹ בְּקִיּוּם הַמִּצְוֹת וְתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶגֶד כּוּלָּן,

Therefore, in order to avoid being categorized as wicked, he need not meditate so much on God's greatness to generate from his faculty of understanding a spirit of knowledge and fear of God in his mind in order to be vigilant not to transgress any prohibitions. He also need not generate a love for God in his heart in order to cleave to Him through the fulfillment of the commandments and the study of Torah, which is equivalent to all the commandments. One who does not have the temptations of the evil inclination does not have the need to employ his arsenal of knowledge and fear of God against it. Nor does he have to evoke feelings of love for God in order to perform mitzvot and study Torah. This is in contrast to a person who does not by nature desire to perform the mitzvot and study Torah. Such a person must evoke a living emotion of love for God by virtue of which he will engage in these pursuits.

אֶלָּא דַּי לוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה מְסוּתֶּרֶת אֲשֶׁר בְּלֵב כְּלָלוּת יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁנִּקְרְאוּ "אוֹהֲבֵי שְׁמוֹ״ (תהלים סט, לז).

Rather, the latent, concealed love for God that is in the heart of the collective of Israel, who are referred to as "those who love His name" (Ps. 69:37), suffices for him. A natural love for God is embedded in the heart of every Jew, referred to by the author of the Tanya as "concealed love." Here the author merely mentions the existence of such love and reserves a fuller treatment for ensuing chapters. In this chapter, he merely mentions its existence, because this love is a prerequisite. Without it, why should the no-nonsense intellectual, sensorially numb individual engage in Torah study rather than other disciplines? He does so only because he is a Jew with a latent love for God, an essential bond to Him and His Torah, irrespective of whether or not he is consciously aware of such love. The path upon which he embarks is the default of his being. Torah study and the meticulous fulfillment of mitzvot then generate positive feelings within him, not only on account of the extrinsic benefits he associates with his studies and mitzva performance, but even by virtue of their intrinsic holiness. Yet his dedication to holy matters is little more than a character trait, an inborn inclination. It is not a connection to God that results from his supreme efforts, but rather a connection formed from within his comfort zone and natural state of being. He is naturally immersed within a life of Torah and his Jewish heritage, and that is the only reason he is drawn to this path. This natural bent keeps him within the fold as a proper Jew.

וְלָכֵן אֵינוֹ נִקְרָא עוֹבֵד כְּלָל, כִּי אַהֲבָה זוֹ הַמְסוּתֶּרֶת אֵינָהּ פְּעוּלָּתוֹ וַעֲבוֹדָתוֹ כְּלָל אֶלָּא הִיא יְרוּשָּׁתֵנוּ מֵאֲבוֹתֵינוּ לִכְלַל יִשְׂרָאֵל, וּכְמוֹ שֶׁיִּתְבָּאֵר לְקַמָּן.

Therefore, he is not at all considered one who serves God, because this concealed love is not a result of his actions or efforts whatsoever, but rather it is our heritage from our forefathers to the Jewish people, as will be explained below (chaps. 18, 44). His innate feeling of connection to God, by virtue of which he is a beinoni, is not really his. He was born with it; he received it as an inheritance without working for it. This person, then, who turns away from evil and does only good, lives within an opportune state of affairs – a box, as it were, in which his life unfolds in proper fashion. He is not a beinoni on the level of one who is serving God. For him, being a beinoni entails no work whatsoever. It is simply the normal lifestyle for someone of his nature.

וְכֵן אַף מִי שֶׁאֵינוֹ מַתְמִיד בְּלִמּוּדוֹ בְּטִבְעוֹ, רַק שֶׁהִרְגִּיל עַצְמוֹ לִלְמוֹד בְּהַתְמָדָה גְּדוֹלָה וְנַעֲשָׂה הַהֶרְגֵּל לוֹ טֶבַע שֵׁנִי, דַּי לוֹ בְּאַהֲבָה מְסוּתֶּרֶת זוֹ,

Similarly, even one who is not by nature diligent in his Torah study but has trained himself to study with great diligence, and this habit has become second nature to him, can suffice with this concealed love, This category of beinoni, who "does not serve God" because he is naturally diligent and lacks a lustful temperament, may sound extreme. Not only do such people exist, but the category includes a broader population as well: Someone who is not studious by nature but who applies himself diligently over the course of years can reach a point where his inner struggles subside and his persistence becomes habitual. After years of regular study and prayer, his efforts are not conditional on his striving and desire. They have already become ingrained. His studies do not stem from love of God or from an appreciation of their importance but because he can no longer function without them. The principle is universal. When anyone enters a new field of endeavor in his youth with enthusiasm, his newfound habits can rewrite the basis of his entire life. He may not be able to turn himself completely inside out, to change his actual essence, but he can transform it to the extent that he no longer requires an inner battle to act effectively. At that point, his inner, hidden love for God suffices to enable him to turn away from evil and do good and be categorized as a beinoni. The author of the Tanya is telling us that even if one has slain dragons, waged wars, and overcome obstacles, even with real achievements to his credit, none of this means that he has reached the level of "one who serves God." We see situations in the physical world too in which there can be an equilibrium, a balance, on one particular level and the effort to reach equilibrium on the next level may require a great deal of energy. Yet after that new balance is achieved, there is no longer any essential change. When a stone rests on the ground, nothing is required to keep it there. To lift it to the roof takes a good deal of effort, but once it gets there, no further exertion is needed. It is as comfortable up high as it was on the ground. Its new location is unnatural. Getting it there took much effort, and the stone's new placement presumably offers some advantage to those who brought it. But the stone itself is unchanged, as stable and motionless as it was on the ground. So too in matters of the spirit. As long as the faculties of the soul are not diligently applied, one is liable to reach a stasis, a level plane, without progressing further. When that happens, the person slides back to the same position he occupied before: He is serving God out of habit, not through diligent effort. The instant something becomes second nature, one behaves as though it were "first" nature.

אֶלָּא אִם כֵּן רוֹצֶה לִלְמוֹד יוֹתֵר מֵרְגִילוּתוֹ.

unless he wishes to study more than his normal practice. In that case, neither habit nor hidden love are enough. He has to awaken within himself a revealed, powerful, and all-embracing love of God and actively serve Him. In other words, he must become "one who serves God."

וּבָזֶה יוּבָן מַה שֶּׁכָּתוּב בַּגְּמָרָא (חגיגה ט, ב) דְּ׳עוֹבֵד אֱלֹהִים׳ הַיְינוּ מִי שֶׁשּׁוֹנֶה פִּרְקוֹ מֵאָה פְּעָמִים וְאֶחָד, וְ׳לֹא עֲבָדוֹ׳ הַיְינוּ מִי שֶׁשּׁוֹנֶה פִּרְקוֹ מֵאָה פְּעָמִים לְבַד.

With this we can now understand the Talmud's statement that "one who serves God" refers to one who reviews his studies one hundred and one times, while "one who does not serve Him" reviews his studies only one hundred times (Ḥagiga 9b). The Talmud's statement has been explained in various ways, mostly by way of derush (homiletical interpretation) and remez (allusion). The author of the Tanya focuses here on the basic point: It is not an issue of one hundred or one hundred and one. The issue is the measure to which one is accustomed and the measure beyond that.

וְהַיְינוּ מִשּׁוּם שֶׁבִּימֵיהֶם הָיָה הָרְגִילוּת לִשְׁנוֹת כָּל פֶּרֶק מֵאָה פְּעָמִים.

This is because in those days it was the normal practice to review each teaching one hundred times. We need to remember that in the times of the Sages, the Oral Torah had not yet been transcribed. To learn the teachings and embed them precisely in their memory, they would repeat them as many as one hundred times.

כִּדְאִיתָא הָתָם בַּגְּמָרָא: מָשָׁל מִשּׁוּק שֶׁל חַמָּרִים שֶׁנִּשְׂכָּרִים לְעֶשֶׂר פַּרְסֵי בְּזוּזָא וּלְאַחַד עָשָׂר פַּרְסֵי בִּתְרֵי זוּזֵי

As the Talmud states there, this concept is analogous to the market of donkey drivers, who were hired to travel up to ten parasangs for one dinar yet traveled eleven parasangs for two dinars The Talmud records that in those days the donkey drivers would require one coin in payment to transport a load a distance of ten parasangs. However, to transport the same load an extra parasang, the payment amounted to two coins. To put it simply, the rate to transport a load one extra parasang was doubled, in complete disproportion to the standard rate.

מִפְּנֵי שֶׁהוּא יוֹתֵר מֵרְגִילוּתָם.

because it was a departure from their normal practice. The Talmud explains that the difference in payments reflected the boundaries set by habit. There are limits beyond which, even if one only slightly exceeds them, one must invest great effort. In exchange for that effort, a disproportionately greater compensation is necessary. The wagon driver is familiar with the ten-mile trip. To change the itinerary, to extend it at all, goes beyond his routine and requires hard work. Consequently, the price doubles, disproportionate to the per-unit price for the original distance. In this sense, for the person in the habit of reviewing his lesson one hundred times, those one hundred times do not tax his mind and are not at all on a par with the challenge presented by the single one hundred and first time.

וְלָכֵן זֹאת הַפַּעַם הַמֵּאָה וְאַחַת הַיְּתֵרָה עַל הָרְגִילוּת שֶׁהוּרְגַּל מִנְּעוּרָיו – שְׁקוּלָה כְּנֶגֶד כּוּלָּן, וְעוֹלָה עַל גַּבֵּיהֶן בְּיֶתֶר שְׂאֵת וְיֶתֶר עָז לִהְיוֹת נִקְרָא ‘עוֹבֵד אֱלֹהִים׳,

Therefore, the one hundred and first time devoted to reviewing a teaching, which exceeds the normal practice that one was accustomed to since his youth, is equivalent to all the rest of them. Moreover, it surpasses them in strength and power so that he may be categorized as one who serves God. Breaking one's habit is tantamount to breaking one's nature, whether his "first" nature or his second nature. It is that very effort and internal war against one's nature and habits that designate a person as "one who serves God." That struggle, that battle against his own nature, takes a quantum leap the one hundred and first time he prevails over his nature so that the reward for that one hundred and first time equals the sum of all his recompense until then. For this reason, he deserves to be called "one who serves God."

מִפְּנֵי שֶׁכְּדֵי לְשַׁנּוֹת טֶבַע הָרְגִילוּת צָרִיךְ לְעוֹרֵר אֶת הָאַהֲבָה לַה׳

This is because in order to change the nature of habit, one must awaken his love for God To change the overfamiliar path, as difficult as that path itself might be, of fulfilling one's obligations, one must do something even more strenuous: Step outside his life's routine. To accomplish this, he awakens his love of God, and when he does so, there is a natural accompanying urge to increase his commitment to God, to give more of himself than before.

עַל יְדֵי שֶׁמִּתְבּוֹנֵן בִּגְדוּלַּת ה׳ בְּמוֹחוֹ, לִשְׁלוֹט עַל הַטֶּבַע שֶׁבֶּחָלָל הַשְּׂמָאלִי הַמָּלֵא דַּם הַנֶּפֶשׁ הַבַּהֲמִית שֶׁמֵּהַקְּלִיפָּה שֶׁמִּמֶּנָּה הוּא הַטֶּבַע.

by contemplating God's greatness in his mind so that he may govern the nature that is in the left chamber of his heart, which is filled with the blood of the animal soul that stems from the kelippa from which this nature originates. In order to serve God, one must change his habits. A change like this requires one to realign his essential nature. This nature, including its holy elements, stems from one's animal soul, which is sustained by the divine name Elokim (a word sharing the same numerical value as the Hebrew word for nature, hateva ). The emphasis here is on the phrase "by contemplating…in his mind." The divine service of the beinoni entails the utilization of his mental capabilities, employing his brain to contemplate God's greatness as it is manifest in this corporeal world to whatever extent he is able. It is specifically by virtue of this natural act of contemplation that one is able to dominate and modify the nature of his animal soul. One's utilization of his conscious, natural faculties, with the objective of effecting a soul change that will allow him to push beyond his base nature, is precisely the service of God – of Elokim – discussed here.

וְזוֹ הִיא עֲבוֹדָה תַּמָּה לַבֵּינוֹנִי.

This is a perfect service for the beinoni . It is the perfect service for the beinoni because at the very moment that he reaches a state of repose, of being content with his spiritual state, he is already meditating on God's greatness. This in turn leads to a renewed love and fear of God together with the sentiment How can I take it easy? This is no time to rest on my laurels. Now is the time to do more than ever! It is a "perfect service," because he will be constantly striving to reach the pinnacle of spiritual achievement. It is an endless effort. The moment he has succeeded in actualizing his feelings of love, he further contemplates God's greatness, and with the resultant renewed emotions of love and awe, he resolves to draw even closer to God, exceeding all his previous exertions.

אוֹ לְעוֹרֵר אֶת הָאַהֲבָה הַמְסוּתֶּרֶת שֶׁבְּלִבּוֹ לִמְשׁוֹל עַל יָדָהּ עַל הַטֶּבַע שֶׁבֶּחָלָל הַשְּׂמָאלִי, שֶׁזּוֹ נִקְרָא גַּם כֵּן עֲבוֹדָה, לְהִלָּחֵם עִם הַטֶּבַע וְהַיֵּצֶר עַל יְדֵי שֶׁמְּעוֹרֵר הָאַהֲבָה הַמְסוּתֶּרֶת בְּלִבּוֹ.

Alternatively, the beinoni may awaken the concealed love in his heart through which he can govern the nature that is in the left chamber of his heart, for this is also considered service, since this entails waging war against his nature and evil inclination by awakening the concealed love in his heart. In this case, the beinoni is unable to achieve the aforementioned "perfect service." That level of divine service is particularly difficult for the beinoni to attain due to the fluctuating nature of his inner struggles and personality. But even where the beinoni's emotional state does not allow for perfect service, he can nevertheless access the concealed love in his heart. In that case, the beinoni can still be considered one who serves God since he is involved in the struggle against his evil inclination. Even when a person is unable to rule over his animal soul and modify his habitual nature in order to reach the level of perfect service by generating an intense love of God, he can do so through sheer willpower. If he senses that he has fallen into a rut, even if he cannot summon the strength to advance, to do more, then that in itself signals him to press forward. The process may not be infused with the same emotional charge of the perfect service, but it restarts the struggle. It may not result in an intense feeling of love for God, but it takes advantage of the hidden love he naturally possesses and the resolve of every Jew who wants to be close to God and is unwilling to be separated from Him. He experiences no profound emotions, but at least he renews the quest to rise above himself with renewed strength to engage in the struggle and continue to serve God.

מַה שֶּׁאֵין כֵּן כְּשֶׁאֵין לוֹ מִלְחָמָה כְּלָל, אֵין אַהֲבָה זוֹ מִצַּד עַצְמָהּ נִקְרֵאת עֲבוֹדָתוֹ כְּלָל.

This is not the case when he wages no battle at all, for this love in itself is not considered his personal service whatsoever. When the beinoni is attached to God and habitually studies Torah and performs mitzvot through this hidden love alone without making any undue effort, then it is not at all considered his service. It is instead, as mentioned above, simply the inheritance of every Jew from his forefathers. This chapter's message lies in the verse quoted in its opening words: "You will return and see…." Though the distinction between the righteous and the wicked is self-evident, the prophet states, "You will return and see the difference between the righteous and the wicked." The