וְהִנֵּה עַל יְדֵי קִיּוּם הַדְּבָרִים הַנִּזְכָּרִים לְעֵיל לִהְיוֹת גּוּפוֹ נִבְזֶה וְנִמְאָס בְּעֵינָיו,

Implementing the aforementioned ideas ( in chaps. 29–31), by viewing one's body as vile and despicable In the previous chapters, the author of the Tanya recommended that one conduct a self-assessment of his own deeds and spiritual level. If the introspection is honest, he will become aware that not only is he no better than others, but he is beneath them on the spiritual ladder. This self-assessment is efficacious in arousing the good inclination against the evil inclination, so that one comes to despise his body, along with his sense of self, which comprises his animal soul.

רַק שִׂמְחָתוֹ תִּהְיֶה שִׂמְחַת הַנֶּפֶשׁ לְבַדָּהּ,

and rejoicing only in the joy of the divine soul alone One's animal, physical soul is not yet worthy of giving one joy. This is not a joy that is individual, that stems from a fulfillment of the body's needs, but rather a rejoicing in being part of a whole, a portion of God on high. This joy is not a joy of the self but rather a rejoicing in the achievement of the goal, in one's accomplishments and what remains to be done, and in the divine will that continuously desires one's service. When a person attains this joy, he can overcome all suffering, because in the bigger picture, all considerations of the individual sense of self are of secondary importance.

הֲרֵי זוֹ דֶּרֶךְ יְשָׁרָה וְקַלָּה לָבֹא לִידֵי קִיּוּם מִצְוַת "וְאָהַבְתָּ לְרֵעֲךָ כָּמוֹךָ״ (ויקרא יט, יח)

is a direct and easy path leading to the fulfillment of the commandment "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19:18),This mitzva is not only important on its own terms, but it also gives us a means of assessing our spiritual progress. A person who cannot love his fellow as himself is equally unable to love God.

לְכָל נֶפֶשׁ מִיִּשְׂרָאֵל לְמִגָּדוֹל וְעַד קָטָן.

which includes every Jew, from great to small. It is easy to love people with sterling qualities or to whom we owe a debt of gratitude. But we are commanded to love every individual, great or small, good or wicked, worthy or reprehensible.

כִּי מֵאַחַר שֶׁגּוּפוֹ נִמְאָס וּמְתוֹעָב אֶצְלוֹ, וְהַנֶּפֶשׁ וְהָרוּחַ מִי יוֹדֵעַ גְּדוּלָּתָן וּמַעֲלָתָן בְּשָׁרְשָׁן וּמְקוֹרָן בֶּאֱלֹקִים חַיִּים,

For one's body is already viewed as despicable and abominable, and as for the soul and spirit, who can know their greatness and quality at their source and root, the living God? When a person identifies with his physical self, when he dwells on his desires, yearnings, and material achievements, he is likely to compare himself to others and judge himself against them. He may view himself as superior, as having superlative virtues. But when a person views his body, and in a sense himself, as deserving of only scorn and contempt, he can no longer see himself as anyone else's superior. Even in his successes he will see only imperfection, how much he has fallen short in realizing his true potential commensurate with his talents and capabilities. When he disregards his body, and, consequently, the bodies of others, he comes to value the soul, the spirit infused in him from God. In that realm, assessments and comparisons are irrelevant. Only achievements can be measured, but it is impossible to assess a person by his soul.

בְּשֶׁגַּם שֶׁכּוּלָּן מַתְאִימוֹת וְאָב אֶחָד לְכוּלָּנָה.

Moreover, all Jewish souls are alike and all have one father. It is not just that we do not have the means of evaluating and ranking souls. Rather, all souls are equal, connected to each other as equal branches stemming from one root.

וְלָכֵן נִקְרְאוּ כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל אַחִים מַמָּשׁ, מִצַּד שׁוֹרֶשׁ נַפְשָׁם בַּה׳ אֶחָד,

Consequently, all Jews are literally called brothers on account of their collective soul's common root in the one God. Like the children of one father, like branches that come from one root, so all the souls of Israel are the outgrowth of one inclusive soul, the "congregation of Israel." The collective soul of Israel is to be found deep within each individual, where there exists only one shared soul, a soul that is not intrinsically divided but only seems that way, just as a ray refracted by polished glass splits into thousands of flickering lights and varied hues. At their source, that one ray of light, there is no difference between great and small, between one color and another. Elsewhere, the bond between one Jew and another is likened to the connection between the limbs of a single body. We think of the body as a single organic entity rather than a collection of its parts. We would not consider six hundred chairs as an organic entity, but the 613 limbs of the body and the 613 mitzvot belong to the same infrastructure as one single organism. Such an organism must fulfill three conditions. First, the combination of parts is not arbitrary. They cannot be increased or reduced at random. Second, the parts relate to each other and to the total being. Finally, the function of each part serves the entire body. Each member of the Jewish people is meaningful and vital to every other member. One can never dissociate himself from another, from their needs, troubles, or illnesses, just as the head cannot say, "What happens to the finger is none of my concern." This perspective leads to a love of a fellow Jew that is not necessarily emotional but essentially one of caring. No Jew can divorce himself from another because he knows that someone else's problem is essentially his own. If one were to feel detached from one of his limbs or a part of his personality, he would be considered severely ill, suffering from schizophrenia or something worse. This concept goes beyond the idea of mutual responsibility. As a single organism, each part can be found in every other part, so that whatever occurs to one affects the others. This applies not only to the saintly and the righteous. When a Jew suffers, even when a guilty Jew is condemned to death, the Divine Presence cries out, "I am distressed about My head. I am distressed about My arm" (Mishna Sanhedrin 6:5). Because the Divine Presence is synonymous with the congregation of Israel, with the totality of all Jewish souls, the pain of each member is the pain of the Divine Presence.

רַק שֶׁהַגּוּפִים מְחוּלָּקִים.

It is only their bodies that are distinct from one another. Differences between people, whether in status, physical location, and so forth, result from their physical nature. Bodies cannot become unified with each other. They can use each other to gain benefit, but they cannot become one entity. On the other hand, in its inner being, a person's soul is one with all other Jewish souls. Distance and division arise only when the soul expresses itself through the thoughts and deeds of the body.

וְלָכֵן הָעוֹשִׂים גּוּפָם עִיקָּר וְנַפְשָׁם טְפֵלָה, אִי אֶפְשָׁר לִהְיוֹת אַהֲבָה וְאַחֲוָה אֲמִיתִּית בֵּינֵיהֶם, אֶלָּא הַתְּלוּיָה בְּדָבָר לְבַדָּהּ.

Therefore, those who consider their bodies primary and their souls secondary cannot experience true love and brotherhood among themselves but only love that is dependent on something. The inner meaning and significance of the mitzva of loving one's fellow Jew can be seen as an indicator of the soul's progress. A true love of others is impossible as long as one views the body as one's essential being. The body is separate, gaining benefit for itself and by itself. It has no sympathy for others. Only its own gain rates its attention. This kind of love is a "love that is dependent on something" (Mishna Avot 5:16), where one loves others as long as they serve one's interests, whether those interests are simple and coarse or more refined. That love is no more than an appreciation of the usefulness that someone else may provide. But true love, one not dependent on anything, exists only when one identifies with the soul as one's essence and center of being, so that a loving relationship between souls exists without the divisive self-centeredness of the physical self.

וְזֶהוּ שֶׁאָמַר הִלֵּל הַזָּקֵן עַל קִיּוּם מִצְוָה זוֹ: "זֶהוּ כָּל הַתּוֹרָה כּוּלָּהּ, וְאִידָּךְ פֵּירוּשָׁא הוּא״ כו׳ (שבת לא, א).

This is the meaning of Hillel the Elder's statement with regard to the fulfillment of this mitzva, "That is the entire Torah, and the rest is its interpretation…" (Shabbat 31a), When a non-Jew proposed to convert to Judaism on the condition that Hillel teach him the entire Torah as he stood on one foot, Hillel told him, "That which is hateful to you do not do to another. That is the entire Torah." Hillel's expression "That which is hateful to you do not do to others," appears in the Aramaic translation of the verse "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Lev. 19:18). This mitzva, says Hillel, is the foundation of the Torah. In that sense, everything else is mere commentary.

כִּי יְסוֹד וְשׁוֹרֶשׁ כָּל הַתּוֹרָה הוּא לְהַגְבִּיהַּ וּלְהַעֲלוֹת הַנֶּפֶשׁ עַל הַגּוּף, מַעְלָה מַעְלָה, עַד עִיקָּרָא וְשָׁרְשָׁא דְּכָל עָלְמִין,

for the foundation and root of the entire Torah is to exalt and elevate the soul above and beyond the body to the source and root of all the worlds The aim of the Torah is to enable the soul to overcome the body's impediments and free itself from having to depend on the body's perceptions and desires, so that it may rise and bond with its source.

וְגַם לְהַמְשִׁיךְ אוֹר אֵין סוֹף בָּרוּךְ הוּא בִּכְנֶסֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל, כְּמוֹ שֶׁיִּתְבָּאֵר לְקַמָּן.

and also to draw down the light of Ein Sof, blessed be He, into the congregation of Israel, as will be explained below (chap. 41). One goal of the Torah is to raise a person heavenward, to the source of all souls and all worlds. The second is to draw down the divine life-giving vitality from Ein Sof, who is entirely beyond worlds, to the point that is the source of the worlds and of all Jewish souls known as Kenesset Yisrael, the congregation of Israel, and thenceforth to the worlds themselves.

דְּהַיְינוּ בִּמְקוֹר נִשְׁמוֹת כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל, לְמֶהֱוֵי אֶחָד בְּאֶחָד דַּוְקָא וְלֹא כְּשֶׁיֵּשׁ פֵּירוּד חַס וְשָׁלוֹם בַּנְּשָׁמוֹת,

This refers to drawing down the light into the root of the souls of every Jew so that the One, God, may be united with one, but this is not possible when there is disunity among the souls, God forbid, As noted above, the congregation of Israel is the collective soul of the Jewish people, which encompasses all the individual souls that emerge from it like branches sprouting from the root. At their source, the souls of Israel are united as one. When they rise to that point, when they are united with each other, the one God unites with them. This is the goal of existence, of the creation of the worlds, to arrive at the place where "the One is united with one," where the one God unites with the unified congregation of Israel at their root. But when there is division among souls, the congregation of Israel is flawed, and there can be no unity with the Divine.

דְּקֻדְשָׁא בְּרִיךְ הוּא לָא שָׁרְיָא בַּאֲתַר פְּגִים.

for the Holy One, blessed be He, does not dwell in a place that is blemished. When the souls of Israel are divided, when there is a lack of coordination and connection among souls, then the congregation of Israel is an imperfect place. At that moment, God and His life-giving vitality cannot dwell among them. The flow from above must be preceded by an elevation from below. That elevation is an offering, whether an animal brought to the Temple or one's soul dedicated to the one God. The offering must be perfect and whole, as the verse states, "It shall be unblemished to be accepted" (Lev. 22:21). Nothing flawed can rise to God, whether a worm-infested log used for the altar pyre, spoiled wine for libations, or a blemished animal, or a person who is not completely connected to the other souls of Israel. When we cry out, "Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One," we are making three statements. The first, "Hear, Israel," is a call to gather together the people as one. When a person says, "Hear, Israel," he is in effect stating, "I love each Jew. All of us constitute one unified people." The second statement, "The Lord is our God," proclaims that we accept the yoke of the kingdom of Heaven. The third statement, "The Lord is one," expresses the absolute oneness of God and resultant absence of any other entity in existence. The second and third phrases imply self-sacrifice, raising an offering to God. They are preceded by "Hear, Israel" because without the unity of Israel, there is a flaw in Israel, and when the offering is blemished, it cannot rise to "the Lord our God, the Lord is One." For this reason, the Arizal instituted the custom of preceding one's prayers with the statement "I hereby accept upon myself the positive commandment of'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'"

וּכְמוֹ שֶׁאוֹמְרִים: "בָּרְכֵנוּ אָבִינוּ כּוּלָּנוּ כְּאֶחָד בְּאוֹר פָּנֶיךָ״, וּכְמוֹ שֶׁמְּבוֹאָר בְּמָקוֹם אַחֵר בַּאֲרִיכוּת.

The same applies to prayer , as we recite in the Amida prayer, "Bless us, our Father, all of us as one, with the light of Your countenance," as explained elsewhere at length. The core of prayer, and in a sense any blessing, is "Blessed are You, the Lord." A blessing's function is to draw the Divine down to our reality. But since God does not cause His presence to rest in a flawed place, we ask that all the imperfections of all Jews, whether in health, wisdom, livelihood, or any other area, be rectified. Moreover, it is only when we are "all of us as one" that we can receive God's blessing. But when we are divided, so that each individual is alone, that blessing cannot come to fruition through us. The Jewish people must attain unity before the divine light can dwell on the congregation of Israel and thus on the world as a whole. There are varied degrees to loving a fellow Jew. On one level, it is a testimony to a person's rank. The extent of a Jew's love of the Jewish people reflects how much he has freed himself of the body's dominion and so can relate to others through his soul alone. It is, after all, only through the soul that one can love all Jews. On a deeper level, loving one's fellow Jew is the vessel through which the Divine Presence rests in the world. Thus the love of a fellow Jew is both an indicator of one's love of God and the result of one's love of God. It is both a sign that a person has attained a certain level and is also his reward.

וּמַה שֶּׁאָמְרוּ בַּגְּמָרָא שֶׁמִּי שֶׁרוֹאֶה בַּחֲבֵירוֹ שֶׁחָטָא – מִצְוָה לִשְׂנֹאותוֹ (פסחים קיג, ב),

As for the talmudic statement that when one sees his fellow Jew commit a transgression, it is a mitzva to hate him (Pesaḥim 113b), Other statements of our Sages apparently do not agree that the love of Israel is limitless and directed to every Jew. Regarding the verse "If you see the donkey of your enemy crouching under its burden…" (Ex. 23:5), the Talmud asks, is it possible to have an enemy? That would seemingly contradict the commandment "You shall not hate your brother in your heart" (Lev. 19:17). The answer to this question is that when a person sees something sinful in another, it is a mitzva to hate him.

וְגַם לוֹמַר לְרַבּוֹ שֶׁיִּשְׂנָאֵהוּ,

and also that it is permitted to tell that person's teacher to hate him, Not only is it a mitzva to hate that person, but he can also tell others who trust him to hate that person. The author of the Tanya specifically chose the example of one's teacher because the halakha forbids a single witness to testify since testimony by one witness is merely gossip and thus prohibited. But reporting to one's teacher who is also the other person's teacher is not gossip, since it is information that the teacher must have in order to educate that student properly. At any rate, this seemingly grants permission, albeit limited, to hate another Jew.

הַיְינוּ בַּחֲבֵירוֹ בְּתוֹרָה וּמִצְוֹת,

that applies only to his fellow, his equal, in Torah study and the fulfillment of mitzvot. The author of the Tanya now offers a resolution to this apparent contradiction. He explains that the Talmud is teaching that one may hate only someone with a similar way of life and perspective on the world. One may not hate a person who is not one's equal in Torah and mitzvot. Even if such a person knows that something is prohibited, that knowledge affects him less than it does a more learned person. He easily makes excuses for himself, saying that he is not religious or that he is unaware of the obligation. In that case, it is prohibited to hate him. One has permission only to hate someone who acts willfully, and one can assume that a person equal to oneself in Torah and mitzvot is acting willfully and understands as well as he does the significance of his deeds. The halakhic definition of one who acts willfully is a subject for another discussion. But when it comes to a sinner who is not one's "fellow in Torah [study] and [the fulfillment of] mitzvot," one must assume that when he commits a sin, he does so in a different way and from a different perspective, and so one may not hate him. Only a person who is aware of the meaning of his deeds can commit an act of rebellion against God. Only such a sinner is considered to be casting his soul to the depths, to be contaminating himself with a greater measure of defilement than that inherent in an impure creeping animal. But if a person lacks such an awareness, his situation is altogether different. In light of this, before one makes it his business to assess the sin of another, he needs to make certain they share the exact same points of view, education, and general approach to life. If these diverge in any way, not only is there no mitzva to hate the other person, but one is prohibited from doing so.

וּכְבָר קִיֵּים בּוֹ מִצְוַת "הוֹכֵחַ תּוֹכִיחַ אֶת עֲמִיתֶךָ״ (שם) – "עִם שֶׁאִתְּךָ בְּתוֹרָה וּבְמִצְוֹת״ (שבועות ל, א), וְאַף עַל פִּי כֵן לֹא שָׁב מֵחֶטְאוֹ, כְּמוֹ שֶׁכָּתוּב בְּסֵפֶר חֲרֵדִים (פרק לה).

Also, he has to have filled the commandment "You shall rebuke your neighbor" (Lev. 19:17), referring to "one who is with you in the observance of Torah and in the fulfillment of mitzvot" (Shevuot 30a), and nevertheless he has not repented for his sin, as it is written in Sefer Ḥaredim (chap. 35). In addition, even if the sinner is one's equal in the fulfillment of the Torah and mitzvot, one should still not hate him, as the verse states, "You shall not hate your brother in your heart" (Lev. 19:17). This holds true unless one has fulfilled the injunction to rebuke him, contained in the continuation of that very verse. The mitzva of rebuke does not pertain to every Jew. Our Sages infer this from the very makeup of the word amitekha in the verse, translated as "your neighbor." They understand it as a composite of the two words im and itekha, literally, "together with you," implying "one who is together with you in the observance of the Torah." The term amitekha, "your neighbor," is not the same as aḥikha, "your brother," a term that appears frequently in the Torah. Whereas "your brother" refers to any Jew, "your neighbor" implies an extra measure of intimacy. It is someone who has the perspective and engages in the deeds characteristic of a fully observant Jew. Since accepting rebuke is a delicate and complex matter, giving rebuke requires a great deal of tact. One can only chastise someone with whom one shares a relationship, a soulful connection that remains strong despite the criticism. This is so difficult an undertaking that our Sages state, "It would be very surprising were we to find anyone in this generation capable of accepting rebuke" (Arakhin 16b), with the sole exception of Rabbi Akiva. Only then, when one has already chastised this person who is classified as his friend and neighbor and who nevertheless did not repent, only then is it said that one is commanded to hate him.

אֲבָל מִי שֶׁאֵינוֹ חֲבֵירוֹ וְאֵינוֹ מְקוֹרָב אֶצְלוֹ,

But concerning one who is neither his friend nor one with whom he is on close terms, it is forbidden to hate him. For one to rebuke another and hate him under certain conditions, the latter must be his friend and neighbor, one who is on close terms. If these conditions are not met, and his words of rebuke will not be received well, he has no moral right to hate and reject the other person.

הִנֵּה עַל זֶה אָמַר הִלֵּל הַזָּקֵן: "הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וכו׳ אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה״ (אבות פרק א משנה יב). לוֹמַר שֶׁאַף הָרְחוֹקִים מִתּוֹרַת ה׳ וַעֲבוֹדָתוֹ, וְלָכֵן נִקְרָאִים בְּשֵׁם בְּרִיּוֹת בְּעָלְמָא,

It is with regard to this that Hillel the Elder said, "Be among the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving creatures and drawing them close to the Torah" (Mishna Avot 1:12). That is to say, even with regard to those who are distant from God's Torah and His service, and are therefore referred to simply as "creatures," The author of the Tanya understands the Mishna's use of the word beriyot, creatures, as alluding to those who are distant from God. Hillel the Elder is thus stressing that one must love not only the righteous but even the "creatures." This is not to be interpreted in a derogatory sense but as a generic term used to describe even the lowest, most unworthy people, those possessing no notable qualities apart from their being created by God.

צָרִיךְ לְמָשְׁכָן בְּחַבְלֵי עֲבוֹתוֹת אַהֲבָה, וְכוּלֵּי הַאי וְאוּלַי, יוּכַל לְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה וַעֲבוֹדַת ה׳. וְהֵן לֹא, לֹא הִפְסִיד שְׂכַר מִצְוַת אַהֲבַת רֵיעִים.

one must draw them toward God's Torah with thick cords of love, and perhaps, by means of all this love, he will be able to bring them close to the Torah and God's service. Even if he is not successful, he does not lose the reward for the mitzva of loving one's fellow Jew. Hillel the Elder states that we must engage in two distinct actions: First we are to "love creatures" and afterward "bring them close to the Torah." The love of others is not just a means of bringing them close to the Torah. It is a goal in itself, with its own intrinsic importance. If a person can come to a mutual love and understanding of others so that he brings them close to the Torah, he has fully performed the injunction "Be of the disciples of Aaron." But if one has not succeeded in drawing such people close to the Torah, he has performed perfectly the mitzva of loving a Jew, and that is sufficient. The love of a Jew is by definition "a love that is not dependent on anything," not even on drawing him close to the Torah. One has to love others simply, without cause, because that is the Torah's directive. That love does not depend on the qualities of the recipient but on those of the giver. When a person has reached a level where he can see the soul, his love is no longer limited. The soul of a person whose abilities or deeds are lowly may at its core be fine and elevated. When one considers the source of the soul, one may well reverse one's initial, negative judgment of that person. Then he will be able to love those who are only "creatures," even if he fails to bring them close to the Torah. Thus the mitzva to hate someone is extremely limited. There is certainly no carte blanche to hate people for failing to reach a certain level or because they do not keep the Torah and mitzvot fully. At its core, then, this mitzva does not stand in contradiction to the mitzva of loving one's fellow Jews.

וְגַם הַמְקוֹרָבִים אֵלָיו, וְהוֹכִיחָם וְלֹא שָׁבוּ מֵעֲוֹנוֹתֵיהֶם, שֶׁמִּצְוָה לִשְׁנֹאותָם – מִצְוָה לְאַהֲבָם גַּם כֵּן,

Even in those instances where one may hate, since they are those who are close to him, and he rebuked them yet they did not repent for their sins, in which case it is a mitzva to hate them, it is a mitzva to love them as well. The mitzvot of love and hate are not mutually exclusive. Even when it is a mitzva to hate someone, one must love him at the same time.

וּשְׁתֵּיהֶן הֵן אֱמֶת:

Both feelings are genuine: One is not pretending to love or hate. These feelings are genuine. In a sense, this approach is based on the premise that one cannot judge others completely and absolutely. Only God is the absolute judge of one's guilt or innocence, righteousness or wickedness. The earthly courts must at times determine the law and judge whether to impose a fine or imprisonment. But the court does no more than impose a form of punishment that Torah laws prescribe. The proof is that after a person accepts his punishment, he is again considered righteous, but we ourselves do not have the tools to measure who is actually righteous and who is wicked. In view of this, in the special case that one's friend, someone to whom one is close emotionally and ideologically, is sinning and continues to sin, so that one is commanded to hate him, that is not a confirmation that he is wicked. That is not up to us to decide. When this is one's basic approach toward others, it is possible for hate and love to coexist.

שִׂנְאָה - מִצַּד הָרַע שֶׁבָּהֶם, וְאַהֲבָה – מִצַּד בְּחִינַת הַטּוֹב הַגָּנוּז שֶׁבָּהֶם, שֶׁהוּא נִיצוֹץ אֱלֹקוּת שֶׁבְּתוֹכָם הַמְּחַיֶּה נַפְשָׁם הָאֱלֹקִית.

hatred on account of the evil within them and love on account of the aspect of good hidden within them, which is the divine spark in them that animates their divine soul. In essence, every person possesses two souls: the animal, physical soul and the divine soul, a portion of God above. The fact that a human being is a portion of the Divine is not obscured by the fact that he sins. That portion must be respected and loved in every individual. In that portion, all of us are brothers, the children of one Father. We are all limbs of one body, one being, the congregation of Israel.

וְגַם לְעוֹרֵר רַחֲמִים בְּלִבּוֹ עָלֶיהָ, כִּי הִיא בִּבְחִינַת גָּלוּת בְּתוֹךְ הָרַע, מִסִּטְרָא אָחֳרָא הַגּוֹבֵר עָלֶיהָ בָּרְשָׁעִים.

One must also evoke compassion for it, the sinner's divine soul, for it is in exile within the evil that stems from the sitra aḥara , which overpowers the divine soul in the wicked. A person's relationship with his fellow must be based not solely on love or hatred. Even as the left hand rejects, the right hand embraces. He must maintain his relationship with the third, mediating trait, compassion, and so must ask God to have mercy on his fellow's soul. When a person sees that his friend has sinned, he must, in addition to hating the evil and loving the holy in him, have compassion on this person who has descended to such a low and sinful state. Compassion is different from the attribute of strict judgment, or hatred in this context, and it differs from the attribute of kindness, or love. Like judgment, it accepts facts as they are; but unlike judgment, it does not pass sentence on them. It is also different from love, which essentially has no interest at all in the objective facts of a case. Love wishes to give, but it does not take into account what may be lacking in the beloved. The feeling of love is not directed to a particular person so much as it constitutes the expression of the soul toward that which is outside itself. Compassion, on the other hand, is a complex emotion that encompasses judgment and the recognition of imperfection. That awareness does not generate hatred or abhorrence. Rather, it creates even more closeness. The more one is aware of the other's flaws, the more one feels compassion toward him.

וְהָרַחֲמָנוּת מְבַטֶּלֶת הַשִּׂנְאָה וּמְעוֹרֶרֶת הָאַהֲבָה,

Compassion nullifies the hatred and evokes love, When we have compassion for someone, we cannot hate him because it is possible to see a person at his core and love him. It is hard to love someone whom one despises. But compassion breaks down judgment and distance, and then love can flourish.

כַּנּוֹדָע מִמַּה שֶּׁכָּתוּב: ‘לְיַעֲקֹב אֲשֶׁר פָּדָה אֶת אַבְרָהָם׳ (ישעיה כט, כב).

as is known from the verse "Jacob who redeemed Abraham" (Isa. 29:22). It is well known that Abraham epitomized the trait of love and Jacob that of compassion. When the trait of Abraham is, as it were, imprisoned so that it cannot appear, we arouse the trait of compassion and its power to liberate the love. It may be impossible to love a person because there are so many reasons to hate him. Yet for those very reasons, we must have compassion on him – and when we have compassion, it is possible to love as well.

[וְלֹא אָמַר דָּוִד הַמֶּלֶךְ עָלָיו הַשָּׁלוֹם: "תַּכְלִית שִׂנְאָה שְׂנֵאתִים״ וגו׳ (תהלים קלט, כב) אֶלָּא עַל הַמִּינִים וְהָאֶפִּיקוֹרְסִים, שֶׁאֵין לָהֶם חֵלֶק בֵּאלֹקֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל, כִּדְאִיתָא בַּגְּמָרָא רֵישׁ פֶּרֶק טז דְּשַׁבָּת (קטז, א).]

(King David, of blessed memory, stated, "I hate them with utter hatred" (Ps. 139:22), only with regard to heretics and apostates, who have no portion in the God of Israel, as the Talmud states at the beginning of chapter 16 of tractate Shabbat [116a].) The phrase "utter hatred" reflects an absolute animosity toward a person whose wickedness is also absolute. When a person knowingly and completely divorces himself from the God of Israel and attempts to lead other Jews away from God as well, he severs his kinship with the Jewish people. As long as some connection remains, it justifies and even demands a mutual relationship. But when there is no longer a shared bond, any hope of rebuilding that relationship dies away. The question as to when the divorce becomes final remains unsolved. But the author of the Tanya focuses not on that split but on hatred. Even when that hatred is an "utter hatred," it is not yet absolute and final. On the contrary, in a certain sense, that very hatred indicates the existence of a connection of some sort. One of the descriptions given to the Messiah is that he loves righteousness and hates wickedness. Love of righteousness and hatred of wickedness are apparently opposites. But there is undoubtedly a genuine relationship between them. The more love there is in a person, the more it is possible that he will have a real relationship with hatred. On the other hand, a person who does not hate evil lacks the capacity to love good completely. The ability to build a relationship, distant or close, bad or good, assumes a concern with others. When that concern does not exist, a person can neither love the righteous nor hate the wicked. He can only relate to others as objects, as neither enemies nor friends. A person who does not care for others can distance himself from them, act with great courtesy, use them, and take his leave of them. The shocking and cruel enormities that occurred in our generation, unlike any known before, were not committed by people who possessed a passionate hatred but by people who were indifferent, people who acted mechanically and were able to view people as things. But when the "other" is a human being – in our case, a Jew – whom it is possible to hate, it is also possible to love him. There is a living connection between the two polarities of love and hate. Hatred, even a consummate hatred, testifies to an ongoing relationship. "I hate them with utter hatred," because they bother me, because they harm me, for they are still an integral part of me. This chapter is a self-contained discussion of the love of Israel. The first half of the chapter dealt with the theoretical aspect of that love, discussing the closeness among souls that demands that we love every Jew, even someone very different from us and seemingly distant. It defined this mitzva as the basis of the entire Torah and the foundation of our connection with God. The second half of the chapter dealt with the parameters of the mitzva