בְּרַם כְּגוֹן דָּא צָרִיךְ לְאוֹדוֹעֵי כְּלָל גָּדוֹל, כִּי כְּמוֹ שֶׁנִּצָּחוֹן לְנַצֵּחַ דָּבָר גַּשְׁמִי, כְּגוֹן שְׁנֵי אֲנָשִׁים הַמִּתְאַבְּקִים זֶה עִם זֶה, לְהַפִּיל זֶה אֶת זֶה, הִנֵּה אִם הָאֶחָד הוּא בְּעַצְלוּת וּכְבֵדוּת יְנוּצַּח בְּקַל וְיִפּוֹל, גַּם אִם הוּא גִּבּוֹר יוֹתֵר מֵחֲבֵירוֹ,

But the following fundamental principle must be made known: Just as with achieving a physical victory, such as when two people are wrestling with one another, one attempting to throw down the other, if one of them is lazy and lethargic, he will be easily defeated and will fall, even if he is stronger than his opponent, A variety of factors determine the outcome of every struggle, aside from the relative strength of the contestants. If, for instance, a wrestler is awkward, if he does not move or respond quickly, then even if he is stronger than his opponent, he will likely be defeated.

כָּכָה מַמָּשׁ בְּנִצְחוֹן הַיֵּצֶר, אִי אֶפְשָׁר לְנַצְּחוֹ בְּעַצְלוּת וּכְבֵדוּת, הַנִּמְשָׁכוֹת מֵעַצְבוּת וְטִמְטוּם הַלֵּב כָּאֶבֶן,

it is precisely the same with regard to vanquishing the evil inclination. It is impossible to vanquish it when one is in a state of laziness and lethargy, which stem from sadness and a stone-like numbness of the heart, Two factors cause indolence and sluggishness of the soul: sadness and a dulled heart. Sadness paralyzes the soul, making it unable to act, and a dulled heart paralyzes one's feelings, making them inaccessible. A dulled heart is not identical to a dulled mind. The latter is the consequence of a constricted and closed intellect. It is essentially an inability to respond appropriately to intellectual challenges. But a dulled heart is a heart that is closed, an inability to respond to emotional stimuli. Although a person with a dulled heart may have experiences that are joyful or sad, upsetting or exalting, he does not respond appropriately.

כִּי אִם בִּזְרִיזוּת הַנִּמְשֶׁכֶת מִשִּׂמְחָה וּפְתִיחַת הַלֵּב וְטָהֳרָתוֹ מִכָּל נִדְנוּד דְּאָגָה וְעֶצֶב בָּעוֹלָם.

but rather with alacrity, which stems from joy and an open heart that is pure of any trace of worry and sadness in the world. Only when a person lives and acts with alacrity can he conquer his evil inclination. This alacrity cannot emerge from sadness. It comes only from joy, when everything is open, when there is no anxiety, no sense of oppressiveness. Quickness in action relates to the quickness of the soul, and that emanates from a positive spirit, from a person's positive sense about what he is doing and about what he must do.

וּמַה שֶּׁכָּתוּב: "בְּכָל עֶצֶב יִהְיֶה מוֹתָר״ (משלי יד, כג),

As for the verse that states, "In all sadness there will be an advantage" (Prov. 14:23), meaning that sadness will result in a certain advantage and virtue, this expression, "there will be," implies that, on the contrary, sadness possesses no virtue of its own, only that a certain advantage will come as a result of it. Sadness in and of itself is always negative, always a failure, always toxic. But sometimes we must use it, only with great caution. If a person falls unconscious, he may need to be injected with a small amount of a toxic substance in order to be revived. Although it is ordinarily a deadly poison, he needs it in order to return to consciousness, to regain movement in his limbs and be restored to life. The same applies to a person's soul. At times, when our senses are asleep, it is necessary to use a trace of sadness to awaken the soul and inject it with the spirit of life.

וְהַיְינוּ הַשִּׂמְחָה הָאֲמִיתִּית בַּה' אֱלֹהָיו הַבָּאָה אַחַר הָעֶצֶב הָאֲמִיתִּי

This ultimate advantage is the true joy in God that follows true sadness, Even when used for holy purposes, sadness is not healthy. But at times, it must be used, just as a pathogen may be used, to effect an extreme reaction. When the heart has been saddened by something truly upsetting, such as one's wickedness or sins, and the person can, as a result, break the power of evil and cleanse himself of the falsehood within himself, then he can experience true joy. By way of example, the digestive system cannot tolerate an emetic, and it is unpleasant to ingest. But if one's digestive system is blocked and needs to be cleaned out, such a drug is beneficial. More precisely, it is not the emetic itself that is useful, it does not give the body any nourishment, but it is its function that provides the benefit: It helps the body discharge the waste matter. Once sadness purges our system of its spiritual wastes, we come to the next stage: the relief of true joy. That is the meaning of "In all sadness there will be an advantage."

לְעִתִּים מְזוּמָּנִים עַל עֲוֹנוֹתָיו בְּמַר נַפְשׁוֹ וְלֵב נִשְׁבָּר,

which one experiences with a bitter soul and a broken heart over his sins at specific, appropriate times. Like any powerful drug, sadness must be carefully controlled and used only in the right way and at the right time. A person must manage his sadness, not the other way around, and the way to accomplish this is to designate specific times in which to allow himself to be sad.

שֶׁעַל יְדֵי זֶה נִשְׁבְּרָה רוּחַ הַטּוּמְאָה וְסִטְרָא אָחֳרָא וּמְחִיצָּה שֶׁל בַּרְזֶל הַמַּפְסֶקֶת בֵּינוֹ לְאָבִיו שֶׁבַּשָּׁמַיִם,

Through this sadness caused by a broken heart, the spirit of impurity and the sitra aḥara , as well as the resultant iron barrier that interposes between him and his Father in Heaven, are broken, At times, a person cannot evoke his emotions. Something is in the way, a curtain dividing him from God, but it is the person himself who creates this curtain, as the verse states, "Rather, your iniquities have been separating between you and your God" (Isa. 59:2). From God's standpoint, there is no barrier. That wall of sin, of the spirit of impurity and the sitra aḥara, can be an impenetrable iron curtain. Behind it, a person goes through life pleased with himself, pleased with his accomplishments, pleased with his plans, and he never engages in the slightest bit of self-reflection. He may read devotional tracts on the fear and love of God, he may attend lectures delivering ethical reproof, and he may even deliver such lectures. But none of this affects him, because a wall stands between him and such feelings, preventing them from reaching him. When a person reaches this state of "you became fat, you thickened, you grew obese" (Deut. 32:15), he is covered in a layer of "the fat that covers the innards" (Ex. 29:13), an opacity that coats his heart and allows no vital emotion to penetrate. He may know everything intellectually, he may even know that something is wrong, but the unending routine of his life does not allow him to truly relate to this. Even though he acknowledges the importance of the love and fear of God, they remain external to him. A person in such a situation has to break down this wall, which can be broken only when he is totally shattered. At times, a person is given divine assistance, and Heaven sends him the means to a breakdown, not that he should seek it or take pride in it, but there may be no other way. Such a breakdown in one's life may be tragic, but it will affect the person more than endless words of reproof. Many people have discovered that only after a negative event, only after a crisis, were they open to a new insight, to faith, and that then, for perhaps the first time in their lives, they experienced a feeling of genuine joy. What does a crisis accomplish? It breaks the iron curtain and allows a person to feel. Many people in the world act, speak, go through the motions of life, yet are unable to truly experience either love of others or love of God. They are unable to experience fear, whether the fear of others or the fear of God. They conduct the entire cycle of their lives on one plane. Such a person comes and goes, enters a scene and leaves a scene. Things in his life are constantly changing, but he never has a genuine experience. Only a crisis can challenge such a state. Only then is a person open to the possibility of relating to others, to the world around him, to God. From the moment he experiences his pain, he can begin to experience the entire world. In the end, perhaps, he will see the world as it is and people as they are. But prior to that, behind the iron curtain, his relationships are mechanical, without a true connection to others or to God. After the crisis, he is like a person who has suffered a burn. As the old skin peels, he begins to feel with the new skin that was concealed underneath it. Although he feels pain, he has pleasant sensations as well. A new sensitivity has been created, open to everything.

כְּמוֹ שֶׁכָּתוּב בַּזֹּהַר (חלק ג רמ, א) עַל פָּסוּק: "רוּחַ נִשְׁבָּרָה, לֵב נִשְׁבָּר״ וגו׳ (תהלים נא, יט).

as it is written in the Zohar (3:240a) regarding the verse "Sacrifices to God are a broken spirit; You, God, will not reject a broken and crushed heart" (Ps. 51:19). The spirit of impurity, the iron curtain, is built on the sense that "I am, and there is nothing besides me." But when a person's heart is broken and contrite, that feeling dissipates. The spirit of impurity melts away, and the iron curtain shatters. The hasidim of Kotzk used to recount paradoxical statements such as "There is nothing straighter than a bent ladder," "There is nothing blacker than white shrouds," and "There is nothing more whole than a broken heart." This book states that God desires us to be whole, that He "does not inhabit a blemished place." Yet even though it may appear paradoxical, God does inhabit a broken heart, because only a broken heart is truly whole. A broken heart is true, whereas an unbroken heart is lacking at its very essence. In a sense, a person without a broken heart has no heart at all because he does not feel, and in order to feel, his heart must be broken.

וַאֲזַי יְקוּיַּם בּוֹ רֵישֵׁיהּ דִּקְרָא: "תַּשְׁמִיעֵנִי שָׂשׂוֹן וְשִׂמְחָה״ וגו׳

Then the preceding verses will be fulfilled through him: "Make me hear

(תהלים נא, י), "הָשִׁיבָה לִי שְׂשׂוֹן יִשְׁעֶךָ וְרוּחַ נְדִיבָה״ וגו׳ (שם פסוק יד).

joy and gladness; let the bones that You crushed rejoice" (Ps. 51:10) and "Restore the joy of Your salvation to me; sustain me with a generous spirit" (Ps. 51:14). A broken, dejected heart does not give a person a joyous feeling. A person with a broken heart grows aware of his offensiveness, his impure spirit, his wretchedness, and this feeling has nothing positive about it. Nevertheless, such a feeling of sadness and brokenness can be beneficial if it leads to feelings of joy. In order for a person to attain such "joy and gladness," he must first experience "crushed bones"; in order to feel that God "sustains me with a generous spirit," he himself must be entirely a "broken heart." It is not that joy must always be experienced as a consequence of crisis or as a counter to sadness. Rather, at its essence, it stems from an ability to arrive at an experience of truth. If a person lives his entire life in falsehood, never once having a genuine experience, he may deceive himself into thinking that he is having true experiences, but they are in reality delusions. He has not felt true joy or even any genuine emotion. For this reason, it is only after he experiences a sufficiently earthshaking ordeal that can he begin to comprehend what it means to feel and truly experience anything. The story is told about an intellectual Jew, a distinguished scientist, who once, in the course of conversation with a rabbi, said, "See, Rabbi, I too ask questions. I too think of God from time to time." The rabbi asked him, "But tell me, how many times were you unable to sleep at night because you were thinking about God?" When a person can sleep well at night and eat in tranquility, he cannot say that his soul thirsts for God. But if he should experience a true anxiety, when he knows what it means to be unable to sleep for three nights in a row because his thoughts do not give him respite, then he can understand what it means to think about God.

וְזֶהוּ טַעַם הַפָּשׁוּט לְתִיקּוּן הָאֲרִ״י ז״ל לוֹמַר מִזְמוֹר זֶה אַחַר תִּיקּוּן חֲצוֹת

This is the simple reason, apart from the deeper, esoteric ones, that the Arizal instituted the recitation of this psalm, Psalms 51, after Tikkun Ḥatzot Sadness is dangerous and must be employed in a controlled fashion: at a prescribed time and in a prescribed manner. As the author of the Tanya explains elsewhere, the proper time and framework is the time of the recitation of Tikkun Ḥatzot. This is a time when a person meditates on the exile of the Divine Presence in relation to God, and in relation to the entire world. It is also appropriate for him to think of his own private exile of the Divine Presence, his own troubles and distance from God. Other works state that every tragedy, every misfortune, represents the exile of the Divine Presence. Every trouble that an individual suffers is part of the world's imperfection. When a person feels his own private suffering, he should associate it with the greater context of the exile of the Divine Presence. The moment his private suffering becomes a part of the universal exile of the Divine Presence, he achieves rectification. At the same time, when a person's suffering ceases to be his private affair and is transformed into a part of the universal suffering, an emotional change also takes place. A person can pray, but as long as he remains focused on himself and his own needs, demanding, "Give! Give! I need such and such!" his every request is judged by the question, Does he deserve it or not? But when a person says, "Master of the universe, something is missing in Your world, and therefore suffering exists. The Divine Presence is in exile and needs salvation," that is no longer his private affair. When his affairs are those of the Divine Presence, when his suffering is the suffering of the Divine Presence, then that is the proper time to weep over his private distress as well. Tikkun Ḥatzot is thus a time of sadness and is properly followed by the recitation of Psalm 51.

קוֹדֶם הַלִּימּוּד, כְּדֵי לִלְמוֹד בְּשִׂמְחָה אֲמִיתִּית בַּה׳ הַבָּאָה אַחַר הָעֶצֶב.

and just prior to Torah study, so that one will study Torah with genuine joy in God, a feeling that follows the sadness evoked during Tikkun Ḥatzot. Sadness must be followed by a transitional stage leading to joy, and that process is expressed in Psalms 51, which describes the joy that follows the sadness. This crossing from sadness to joy is dealt with extensively in hasidic literature. A person does not have to immerse himself in sadness, even if it is, as it were, justified. Once he feels remorse over his sins and his abased condition, he must cast aside the sadness and any thought of his transgressions and embrace the joy that results from having broken the iron curtain, because now he sees the light.

שֶׁיֵּשׁ לְשִׂמְחָה זוֹ יִתְרוֹן כְּיִתְרוֹן הָאוֹר הַבָּא מִן הַחֹשֶׁךְ דַּוְקָא, כְּמוֹ שֶׁכָּתוּב בַּזֹּהַר (חלק ג מז, ב) עַל פָּסוּק: "וְרָאִיתִי שֶׁיֵּש יִתְרוֹן לַחָכְמָה מִן הַסִּכְלוּת כִּיתְרוֹן הָאוֹר״ כו׳ (קהלת ב, יג),

This type of joy has an advantage, akin to the advantage inherent in light that specifically follows darkness, as it is written in the Zohar (3:47b) regarding the verse "I saw that there is advantage to wisdom over folly, like the advantage of light over darkness" (Eccles. 2:13). A light that emerges from the darkness, that banishes the darkness, is superior to light that follows light. There is an advantage to wisdom that follows foolishness, that comes when foolishness is shattered, similar to the advantage of light that shines when darkness is shattered. This light is unique in that it can illuminate only through darkness. It may not be greater than other types of light, but it is more precious to a person because it touches the primal foundation of his existence, the border between light and dark, between being and nonbeing. This is the advantage of joy that results from sadness. Other texts discuss the power of pleasure, which is the soul's highest faculty. Although this faculty may be felt through a variety of pleasures, its most perfect expression is the delight of life itself, of being alive. Most of us do not sense this pleasure, because we have been born with life and have grown up with it. It is possible to feel this pleasure only in the way one appreciates light that has been generated through darkness. A person on death row who has been given a reprieve or a person who has recovered from a terminal disease can, at a certain moment, feel the pure delight of being alive. Only after this gift has been withheld can one appreciate what he possesses. Similarly, after one has experienced sadness as a result of recognizing his sins, his lowliness and insignificance, after he has come to recognize that he deserves nothing, then he can say, "Nevertheless, I can still turn to God!" This basic connection with the Divine, so natural to us, which exists because we exist, because we are Jews, comes to a person in a revelation of unparalleled joy because, for a time, it had seemed that it might be taken away.

עַיֵּין שָׁם, וְדַי לַמֵּבִין.

See there. This is sufficient for one who understands the esoteric wisdom. This discussion touches on the mystical concept of elevating sparks of holiness from the kelippa and the redeeming of good from evil and imperfection. These topics that deal with the borderline where good and evil touch should not be discussed at length. For those who understand these concepts, this discussion should suffice.

וּמִקְרָא מָלֵא דִּבֵּר הַכָּתוּב: "תַּחַת אֲשֶׁר לֹא עָבַדְתָּ אֶת ה׳ אֱלֹהֶיךָ בְּשִׂמְחָה״ וגו׳ (דברים כח, מז), וְנוֹדַע לַכֹּל פֵּירוּשׁ הָאֲרִ״י ז״ל עַל פָּסוּק זֶה.

Furthermore, the Torah categorically states, "Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and with gladness of heart, due to the abundance of everything" (Deut. 28:47), and everyone knows the Arizal's interpretation of this verse. This verse, "Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy…," which appears in Moses's rebuke of the Jewish people, is generally understood in the context of the verse that follows: "Because you did not serve the Lord…you will serve your enemies, whom the Lord will dispatch against you, in hunger and in thirst and in nakedness and in the lack of everything…" (Deut. 28:48). In other words, because you did not serve God in joy, you will serve other nations in grief. But by citing the first verse by itself without reference to its continuation, the Arizal arrives at a much more expansive explanation. All the punishments described in the rebuke, he says, are inflicted only because the Jews' service to God lacked joy. The stress is not on serving God but on the joy that should accompany this service. The threatened plagues and sufferings will come not because "you did not serve" but because "you did not serve with joy."

וְהִנֵּה עֵצָה הַיְּעוּצָה לְטַהֵר לִבּוֹ מִכָּל עֶצֶב וְנִדְנוּד דְּאָגָה מִמִּילֵּי דְּעָלְמָא, וַאֲפִילּוּ בָּנֵי חַיֵּי וּמְזוֹנֵי.

The following is the counsel offered to cleanse one's heart of any trace of sadness and worry about mundane matters, even matters pertaining to children, length of life, and livelihood. These are the three fundamental items on the human agenda, the spur to our aspirations and the source of our greatest suffering. "Children" refers to a person's wish to have children and his ensuing anxiety about how they will turn out. "Life" refers to one's desire for a long, healthy life. "Livelihood" refers to one's concern for his livelihood. Anxiety about these basics is not foolish. The question is, how can a person disregard these issues and divest his heart of any last trace of sadness and worry?

מוּדַּעַת זֹאת לַכֹּל מַאֲמַר רַבּוֹתֵינוּ ז״ל: "כְּשֵׁם שֶׁמְּבָרֵךְ עַל הַטּוֹבָה״ כו׳ (ברכות פרק ט משנה ה), וּפֵירְשׁוּ בַּגְּמָרָא (שם ס, ב): לְקַבּוֹלֵי בְּשִׂמְחָה, כְּמוֹ שִׂמְחַת הַטּוֹבָה הַנִּגְלֵית וְנִרְאֵית,

This advice is contained in the well-known statement of our Rabbis: "Just as one recites a blessing for a positive event, so too one recites a blessing for a calamity" (Mishna Berakhot 9:5). The Talmud explains that one should accept the calamity with joy, just as one rejoices over a clearly perceived positive event (Berakhot 60b), The Talmud is not saying that we recite the same blessing for good news – "Blessed is He who is good and does good" – as for the bad. The blessing to be recited over bad news is entirely different: "Blessed is the true Judge." The intent is that we should recite both blessings with the same feeling. This concept is difficult to absorb – and that much harder to implement. The dilemma is illustrated in a story about Rabbi Dov Berish Meisels, a pious Torah scholar who later became the rabbi of Krakow and Warsaw. At a younger age, he was the head of a yeshiva and, simultaneously, a wealthy lumber merchant. In those days, logs were lashed together onto rafts and floated down the Vistula River to the sea. When river traffic went well, the profits were great. From time to time, the melting snow or other natural conditions destroyed these rafts, and then the logs would be lost and the merchants were ruined. One day the news came that the worst had happened: All the logs had sunk. This meant that Rabbi Meisels, a man who had grown up in a wealthy family and who had lived a life of luxury, was now destitute. His relatives did not know how to break the news to him. Finally, they asked one of his students to break the news in such a way that he would not collapse. The student approached Rabbi Meisels with a tractate of the Talmud and said to him, "Rabbi, there is a passage here that I don't understand," and he showed him the passage about reciting a blessing over evil tidings in exactly the same way that one says a blessing over good news. The rabbi explained the passage, but the student repeated, "Rabbi, I still don't understand. How can one accept bad news joyfully?" The rabbi explained the passage again according to its simple meaning and then according to its esoteric meaning. But the student asked again, "Rabbi, I still can't understand. If you were told that all of your rafts had been lost, would you dance with joy?" The rabbi told him, "Certainly." To this, the student replied, "If so, you may begin dancing, because your rafts have, in fact, been lost." When Rabbi Meisels heard this, he fainted. It is said that the first thing he said when he recovered was "Now I too do not understand this passage." This story does not solve the problem but expresses its basic difficulty: There is a difference between theoretical knowledge that God is good and one's personal feelings when one suffers a loss. Nevertheless, there are doubtless many stories about people who really did exemplify this teaching of accepting misfortune with joy.

כִּי גַּם זוֹ לְטוֹבָה, רַק שֶׁאֵינָהּ נִגְלֵית וְנִרְאֵית לְעֵינֵי בָשָׂר.

because it too is for good, only it is not yet clearly perceivable as such to the human eye. Hasidism has adopted an extreme stance toward the understanding of divine providence: Everything, down to the most microscopic level, is under God's direct control. In this context, the question of accepting suffering with joy and the meaning of evil takes on additional force. The explanation here reaches a depth of profundity far beyond the usual explanations. The basis of this approach is the Sages' teaching that "nothing evil descends from on high" (Bereshit Rabba 51:5), which may be understood on a number of levels. One approach, cited in the name of the Ba'al Shem Tov, is that evil is a seat for good. That is to say, evil does not act independently but is always an instrument for good. In a broader sense, "evil defines good" (Sefer Yetzira 1:2). Evil indicates where good ends so that through evil good can be clearly recognized. In this sense, everything evil is a tool that we can use to reach goals that are good. According to this understanding, any seeming victory of evil is only a way station on the road toward good. Every descent is a descent for the purpose of ascent. Evil is one of the tools of universal good. It is the pedestal, the base on which all good stands on display. This approach aligns with several of our Sages' teachings, such as the concept that God uses evil as a means by which to punish the wicked and by which to exact retribution upon the righteous for their paucity of sins in this world in order that they merit unadulterated reward in the next. The author of the Tanya offers an additional, more profound explanation. That which appears evil, the author explains, is not essentially evil but a good that we cannot see. Although certain events may appear to be evil, this does not express their essential character but only reflects our insufficient understanding. This can be compared to one who is being addressed lovingly but in a language he does not understand. No matter how many affectionate words are spoken to him, he may experience anger, frustration, the feeling that he is wasting his time. He does not sense the love in the words, only the pain. Similarly, because our understanding is limited, certain levels of goodness that God draws down to us appear imperfect and evil. This explanation concurs with the attitude of the talmudic Sage Naḥum Ish Gam Zu, who responded to every event in his life, "This too is for the good," not as a way of accepting harsh judgment but because he saw that what other people experience as a descent is, in reality, an elevation. This realization can be attained to varying degrees. The simplest, which is readily apparent, is that exemplified by the story about Rabbi Akiva, who, while traveling, bedded down for the night in a field with an oil lamp, a rooster, and a donkey. The wind blew out the light, a cat came and ate the rooster, and a lion came and ate the donkey. As each occurrence took place, Rabbi Akiva responded, "All that the Holy One, blessed be He, has done, He has done for the good." Later that night, bandits attacked and looted the nearby town. Only Rabbi Akiva, whose presence was not betrayed by his light, rooster, or donkey, was untouched. Sometimes the connection between the apparent evil and the true good is not so direct and grows clear only after the passage of a year, twenty years, or an entire lifetime, when one realizes that the events that had appeared evil were actually a hidden good. But it really makes no difference whether a person realizes this right away or after twenty years, or even if he never realizes it at all. In essence, there is no qualitative difference between good and evil. All that comes from above is good, although not of the same type. It is easy to recite a blessing of thanksgiving on something that is good and appears to be good. It is more difficult to recite a blessing on something that appears negative. To bless God even under difficult circumstances, one needs a broad mind, a certain degree of refinement, and mental preparation. Unfortunately, not everyone is given their set of challenges at a time when they are prepared to accept it.

כִּי הִיא מֵעָלְמָא דְּאִתְכַּסְיָא, שֶׁלְּמַעְלָה מֵעָלְמָא דְּאִתְגַּלְיָיא,

This is because it stems from the concealed world, which is higher than the revealed world, There is yet a further level of understanding, even deeper and more profound, that sees evil not only as a hidden good but as an especially elevated good. Concealed good comes from the hidden world, which is more elevated than the revealed world and thus more difficult to understand. Some things are easy for anyone to grasp, such as when God speaks simply, as it were, in the language of wealth, honor, children, long life, and a good income. Everyone will agree that these things are good. But when the revelation comes from a higher level, from the hidden world, in which good is given in a different manner, a person has no clear understanding of what is happening to him. In order to see and experience that good, one must possess faith and a certain emotional maturity. Art for the masses is something that everyone, even the most uneducated, can appreciate. Good art is necessarily complex and subtle, and a person who is not sufficiently trained cannot fully appreciate it. Those experiences that are superficially good, that are easy to understand, come from a lower world. When we ourselves are on a relatively low level, that is enough for us. Higher messages require greater effort to accept. They are liable to come in ways that are inexplicable, ways that, because they come from the hidden world, appear in our revealed world as darkness.

שֶׁהוּא ו״ה מִשֵּׁם הֲוָיָ״ה בָּרוּךְ הוּא, וְעָלְמָא דְּאִתְכַּסְיָא הוּא י״ה.

which derives from the letters vav and heh of God's name of Havaya , while the world of concealment derives from the letters yod and heh of the name of Havaya. The reality exists wholly through the four-letter name of Havaya, which gives existence to all. This name is composed of four letters. The first letters are the letters yod and heh, which give existence to the concealed world, and the final two letters are the letters vav and heh, which give existence to the revealed world.

וְזֶהוּ שֶׁכָּתוּב: "אַשְׁרֵי הַגֶּבֶר אֲשֶׁר תְּיַסְּרֶנּוּ יָּ״הּ״ וגו׳ (תהלים צד, יב).

This is the meaning of the verse "Blessed is the man whom You chastise, Lord…" (Ps. 94:12), where the name of God is spelled with a yod and heh. Suffering devolves from the first and higher (and therefore hidden) half of the name of Havaya, from the yod and heh, not from the lower (and therefore revealed) part of the name, vav and heh. Thus, "Blessed is the man…" because in the end he receives more. Even though it appears that he is the recipient of pain and suffering, he is in fact receiving goodness, but goodness on such a high plane that he cannot, at that moment, recognize it as such. But the discussion cannot stop here, because suffering hurts and is unwanted. In some versions of the Viduy, the prayer of confession, we ask God to forgive us and remove our sins, but "not through suffering and disease." In truth, we know that suffering is a profound and genuine good. Nothing genuine can come without suffering, as the Sages state, "The Land of Israel, the Torah, and the World to Come were given only by means of suffering" (Berakhot 5a). Yet at times we cannot stop ourselves from asking, "Master of the universe, do not relate to us as tzaddikim and sages but as simple and lowly creatures. We cannot comprehend the great goodness that is hidden within suffering. We want You to speak to us in a simpler, more understandable language." In view of all this, there is something paradoxical in the fact that a wicked person is afflicted with suffering, because it is actually a gift for him: Suffering is his chance to escape the closed circle of evil. Some suggest that an evildoer's true punishment comes not with his suffering but with its cessation. This idea informs one interpretation of the punishment that the serpent in the Garden of Eden received when God cursed it, "Dust you shall eat all the days of your life" (Gen. 3:14). One might think that there could be no greater boon than this. Since dust is everywhere, the serpent will always have food to eat. While others grow weary of seeking nourishment, the serpent need not make the slightest effort. But this is the meaning of God's words: "I am giving you everything so that you will never grow tired, you will never have to worry, you will never have any problems, because I do not want to see you again. You will never have to turn to Me. You will never need to pray to Me." An element of this exists in every gift we receive from God. Success generally breeds self-satisfaction, as the verse states, "You became fat, you thickened, you grew obese" (Deut. 32:15). It takes great wisdom to know how to truly and correctly receive those things for which we have prayed. On a certain level, success and a good and pleasant life are dangerous. They lead a person to a thoughtless life, to an island of tranquility far from any inspiration and exaltation of the spirit. Yet we pray for these things and do not pray for suffering. This is the paradox of the juxtaposition "Blessed is the man whom You chastise, Lord." In a certain sense, this is like the paradox inherent in how we treat children. A misbehaving child receives more attention and time than a good child, and he receives more than the good child in the end. Similarly, the Talmud tells us, "Had Israel not sinned, they would have been given the five books of the Torah and the book of Joshua alone" (Nedarim 22b). In a way, we must be grateful for the sins of our forefathers, which resulted in the writing of the greater part of Tanakh. Our history and the subject matter of our prophets are our misdeeds, sins, and rebelliousness because, in a sense, all these require a higher level of God's involvement. A person who is wicked will, as it were, attain God's attention, because only God's personal intervention will be able to heal him.

וְלָכֵן אָמְרוּ רַבּוֹתֵינוּ ז״ל (יומא כג, א) כִּי הַשְּׂמֵחִים בְּיִסּוּרִים – עֲלֵיהֶם הַכָּתוּב אוֹמֵר: "וְאוֹהֲבָיו כְּצֵאת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ בִּגְבוּרָתוֹ״ (שופטים ה, לא). כִּי הַשִּׂמְחָה הִיא מֵאַהֲבָתוֹ קִרְבַת ה׳ יוֹתֵר מִכָּל חַיֵּי הָעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, כְּדִכְתִיב: "כִּי טוֹב חַסְדְּךָ מֵחַיִּים״ וגו׳ (תהלים סג, ד).

In this vein, our Rabbis taught (Yoma 23a) that the verse states with regard to those who are happy even in their suffering, "May all those who love Him be like the sun coming out in its might" (Judg. 5:31), for this joy in suffering stems from one's love for closeness to God more than all the life in this world, as it is written, "For your kindness is better than life…" (Ps. 63:4). Why is this verse quoted here to refer specifically to those who rejoice in their suffering? What is the relationship between those who rejoice in their suffering and "those who love him like the sun coming out in its might"? In a sense, God's kindness and our mundane lives are diametrically opposed, and man must choose between them. In its highest form, divine kindness does not always appear in the form of life, in the form of obvious pleasure and goodness. Someone with a tangible love of God can say that "Your kindness is better than life," because he can choose the kindness of God and closeness to Him over the apparent and visible good of this world.

וְקִרְבַת ה׳ הִיא בְּיֶתֶר שְׂאֵת וּמַעֲלָה לְאֵין קֵץ בְּעָלְמָא דְּאִתְכַּסְיָא כִּי שָׁם חֶבְיוֹן עוּזּוֹ, וְיוֹשֵׁב בְּסֵתֶר עֶלְיוֹן.

Closeness to God is of an infinitely greater magnitude and quality in the concealed world, for there is the hiding place of His might, and the Most High dwells in concealment. The more elevated the Divine, the more it is hidden. A person is therefore closest to God when the flow of divine energy descends from the hidden world, even though he can hardly understand that language. In the relationship between a teacher and student, the student might feel more comfortable if his teacher speaks to him with words and concepts that he readily understands. But if he truly wishes to learn new things, he must strain to grasp a difficult language, even if he can barely understand it. Similarly, when God talks to us in a familiar language and with familiar concepts, with the goodness that we recognize and the evil that we know, God is speaking to us in a simplistic language. But when God speaks to us in a more difficult language, one not so easily understood, a language that can at times cause us pain and suffering, God is conversing with us in a higher language, and we are in turn immeasurably closer to the Divine. The more profound the inner meaning, the more difficult it is to understand. It is sometimes so difficult that we only sense the difficulty and must, as it were, chew on this bitter herb until we at last understand its goodness, its rationale, its content. One who rejoices in suffering, who feels that God speaks to him through suffering no less than He does through those things ordinarily considered good and positive, knows that closeness to God in the hidden world is much greater than ordinary good, because "Your kindness is better than life." Closeness to God is better and sweeter than the life of this world.

וְעַל כֵּן זוֹכֶה לְ״צֵאת הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ בִּגְבוּרָתוֹ״ לֶעָתִיד לָבֹא, שֶׁהִיא יְצִיאַת חַמָּה מִנַּרְתֵּקָהּ שֶׁהִיא מְכוּסָּה

Therefore, this person merits experiencing "the sun when it goes forth in its might" in the World to Come, namely, the emergence of the sun

בּוֹ בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, וְלֶעָתִיד תִּתְגַּלֶּה מִכִּסּוּיָהּ. דְּהַיְינוּ שֶׁאָז יִתְגַּלֶּה עָלְמָא דְּאִתְכַּסְיָא

from its sheath within which it was concealed in this world and which will ultimately be removed from its casing. That is, in the World to Come, the world of concealment will be revealed The Sages note that the sun is now concealed within a sheath, whereas in the messianic era its light will be completely revealed, as the verse states, "The light of the moon will be like the light of the sun, and the light of the sun will be sevenfold, like the light of the seven days" (Isa. 30:26). Our world operates in almost total blackness. That which we perceive is the minimal amount of light passing through the sheath, the concealing filter. But in the messianic era, our world will experience a total revolution. The hidden world will be transformed into a revealed world.

וְיִזְרַח וְיָאִיר בְּגִילּוּי רַב וְעָצוּם לְכָל הַחוֹסִים בּוֹ בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה וּמִסְתּוֹפְפִים בְּצִלּוֹ צֵל הַחָכְמָה, שֶׁהוּא בְּחִינַת צֵל וְלֹא אוֹרָה וְטוֹבָה נִרְאֵית, וְדַי לַמֵּבִין.

and will shine forth and radiate in a mighty and awesome revelation for all those who take refuge in God in this world and lodge in His shadow, the shadow of wisdom, which possesses the quality of a shadow as opposed to perceivable light and good. This is sufficient for one who understands esoteric wisdom. At present, God's utmost wisdom is hidden, operating in shadow. One who is prepared to sit in that shadow while in this reality will, in the messianic era, attain the light of wisdom and see the sun as it rises in its full might. Elsewhere, the Sages say that in the messianic era, God will remove the sun from its sheath, and the righteous will be healed by it and the wicked will be punished by it. The tzaddik who was prepared to receive the sunlight while it was sheathed will receive it when it is revealed as well. But a person who was not prepared to receive it when it was sheathed will be burned by its naked rays.

אַךְ הָעַצְבוּת מִמִּילֵּי דִּשְׁמַיָּא, צָרִיךְ לָשִׁית עֵצוֹת בְּנַפְשׁוֹ לִיפָּטֵר מִמֶּנָּה.

Yet with regard to sadness deriving from heavenly matters, one must devise stratagems for himself to rid himself of it. This refers to sadness that results from a person's degeneration in any or all spiritual pursuits. Until this point, the author of the Tanya has discussed the unhappiness that results from mundane concerns: child-rearing, life and health, and livelihood. But sometimes a person suffers not because he lacks anything of this world but because of his lowly spiritual state. This sadness too is not desirable, and he must do all he can to relieve himself of it.

אֵין צָרִיךְ לוֹמַר בִּשְׁעַת עֲבוֹדָה שֶׁצָּרִיךְ לַעֲבוֹד ה׳ בְּשִׂמְחָה וּבְטוּב לֵבָב,

Needless to say, during the service of God one is required to serve God with joy and with gladness of heart. One must always serve God, whether through prayer or mitzva performance, with joy and gladness, never with sadness and worry, not even worry about one's sins or pangs of conscience.

אֶלָּא אֲפִילּוּ מִי שֶׁהוּא בַּעַל עֲסָקִים וְדֶרֶךְ אֶרֶץ, אִם נוֹפֵל לוֹ עֶצֶב וּדְאָגָה מִמִּילֵּי דִּשְׁמַיָּא בִּשְׁעַת עֲסָקָיו,

Yet even with regard to one who engages in business or work, if in the course of his business affairs, he has a sudden thought of sadness or worry pertaining to heavenly matters, A person might be in the midst of his business affairs or work when suddenly his mind is filled with thoughts about his poor spiritual condition, how he does not study Torah, is not involved in serving God, and cannot even call himself a man.

בְּיָדוּעַ שֶׁהוּא תַּחְבּוּלַת הַיֵּצֶר, כְּדֵי לְהַפִּילוֹ אַחַר כָּךְ בְּתַאֲווֹת חַס וְשָׁלוֹם, כַּנּוֹדָע.

it is clearly an act of subterfuge employed by the evil inclination to cause him to ultimately fall prey to his lusts, God forbid, as is known. He must realize that this is not a sign of holiness but a manifestation of the evil inclination. The sadness that seemingly relates to great and elevated matters does not stem from holiness but from impurity. When a person's evil inclination attempts to overwhelm him with sadness, the cause of that sadness does not matter. The deeper the sadness, the more a person will grow depressed until he succumbs to a temptation of one kind or another. This is a well-known psychological phenomenon: When a person berates himself for his sinfulness, he is liable to become so depressed that in his despair he paradoxically commits a sin graver than any he already committed. Even if one's sadness seems motivated by the desire to rectify his life, its ultimate outcome discloses its true identity, that it is the cunning of the evil inclination, intended to cast a person to the depths.

שֶׁאִם לֹא כֵן, מֵאַיִן בָּאָה לוֹ עַצְבוּת אֲמִיתִּית מֵחֲמַת אַהֲבַת ה׳ אוֹ יִרְאָתוֹ בְּאֶמְצַע עֲסָקָיו?

If it were not the ploy of the evil inclination, where did this genuine sadness, which stems from love or fear of God, come from in the midst of his business affairs? The source of genuine sadness is a genuine love and fear of God. If the sadness one feels comes from that source of holiness, then one would expect to be conscious of that source. But if a person is in the middle of his everyday affairs when overcome by sadness, then what connection does he have at that point to the genuine love and fear of God and the subsequent genuine sadness or joy that results? Clearly his thoughts of sadness do not come from the love and fear of God. Rather, they are a stratagem of the evil inclination, intended to dishearten him and leave him vulnerable to the siren call of further sin.

וְהִנֵּה בֵּין שֶׁנָּפְלָה לוֹ הָעַצְבוּת בִּשְׁעַת עֲבוֹדָה, בְּתַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה אוֹ בִּתְפִלָּה, וּבֵין שֶׁנָּפְלָה לוֹ שֶׁלֹּא בִּשְׁעַת עֲבוֹדָה – זֹאת יָשִׂים אֶל לִבּוֹ, כִּי אֵין הַזְּמַן גְּרָמָא כָּעֵת לְעַצְבוּת אֲמִיתִּית, אֲפִילּוּ לְדַאֲגַת עֲוֹנוֹת חֲמוּרִים חַס וְשָׁלוֹם.

Whether the feeling of sadness came over him during his divine service, such as while studying Torah or praying, or whether it came over him not during his service, he must be well aware that now is an inappropriate time for genuine sadness and even for worrying about egregious sins that he has committed, God forbid. Whenever a person experiences heaviness, a feeling of descent, whether while serving God or while involved in other affairs, even if the reason is a true one, even if this distress is a consequence of his distance from God, he must tell himself, "This is not the time!"

רַק לָזֹאת צָרִיךְ קְבִיעוּת עִתִּים

Rather, this requires fixed times This is not to say that a person should never ponder his flaws or that he must forget that he ever transgressed. Rather, everything has its time. Just as there is a time to examine one's accounts, there is a time to examine one's soul. When a person has such a thought, but not at the proper time, he must reject it as an unwelcome intrusion.

ושְׁעַת הַכּוֹשֶׁר בְּיִשּׁוּב הַדַּעַת, לְהִתְבּוֹנֵן בִּגְדוּלַּת ה׳ אֲשֶׁר חָטָא לוֹ, כְּדֵי שֶׁעַל יְדֵי זֶה יִהְיֶה לִבּוֹ נִשְׁבָּר בֶּאֱמֶת, בִּמְרִירוּת אֲמִיתִּית, וְכַמְבוֹאָר עֵת זוֹ

and an appropriate time frame, as well as a composed mind with which to contemplate the greatness of God against whom he sinned, so that he may ultimately achieve a truly broken heart accompanied by true bitterness.

בְּמָקוֹם אַחֵר. וְשָׁם נִתְבָּאֵר גַּם כֵּן כִּי מִיָּד אַחַר שֶׁנִּשְׁבַּר לִבּוֹ בָּעִתִּים קְבוּעִים הָהֵם – אֲזַי יָסִיר הָעֶצֶב מִלִּבּוֹ לְגַמְרֵי

This time for remorse is described elsewhere (Iggeret HaTeshuva, chaps. 7, 11), where it is also explained that immediately upon achieving a broken heart at those fixed times, one must completely remove the feelings of sadness from his heart, This contemplation must be well timed and more than a thought that suddenly appears in one's mind without any knowledge of its source. In order to develop the correct perspective, one should begin one's reflection not with a monotonous recitation on the theme "I am wicked, I am a sinner" but with a meditation on the grandeur of God. Once he has contemplated the greatness of God, he can evaluate himself within this context, and then he will truly come to a broken heart. He will arrive at a sadness that is not generated by his evil inclination but that is genuine bitterness, which, as the author will explain, has its time and place. Having examined one's soul and concluded that one indeed stands at the lowest rung, having attained a genuine state of broken-heartedness, one may not remain in that state. He must immediately and completely remove the sadness from his heart. There is a time to engage in such a reckoning, and that reckoning must be candid and authentic. If a person appears to himself to be wretched, base, and abject, he must gaze unflinchingly at that self-portrait and allow his heart to break. But that heartbreak cannot be permanent, because a broken soul does no one any good. Once he knows himself, once he has achieved a broken heart, it is time to move on to a new surge of devotion and constructiveness.

וְיַאֲמִין אֱמוּנָה שְׁלֵימָה כִּי ה׳ הֶעֱבִיר חַטָּאתוֹ וְרַב לִסְלוֹחַ.

and believe wholeheartedly that God has removed his sin and forgives abundantly. This new momentum is, to the degree that his self-examination was unreserved and honest, pure and whole. The more profoundly his heart was broken, the more profoundly is his present rectification based on a deep, wholehearted faith that God forgives whatever it is possible to forgive, in any way that it is possible to forgive. From this vantage point of pure faith, at the genuine end of one phase in his life and a true beginning of another, one must begin anew his service of God.

וְזוֹ הִיא הַשִּׂמְחָה הָאֲמִיתִּית בַּה׳ הַבָּאָה אַחַר הָעֶצֶב, כַּנִּזְכָּר לְעֵיל.

This is the true joy in God that follows genuine sadness, as mentioned above. One does not have to constantly make such a reckoning. Endless involvement in such self-examination prevents a person from fulfilling his obligations, particularly if his reckoning leads him to conclude that his sins outweigh his merits. Yet it is necessary to engage from time to time in an honest reckoning, which might cause a person temporary worry or sadness. But one may not wallow in the sadness, even if justified. As soon as one recognizes one's weak and problematic points, one must rouse oneself once again to renewed service of God. An old folk saying says that making a reckoning is half of the punishment. Although this reckoning is an important step, it is only a temporary one. The sadness that results is necessary, but it must be followed by joy. At the outset of this chapter, the author of the