אלול יח – אגרת הקודש פרק טו

The Alter Rebbe begins by saying that before we can understand the relationship between the human soul and the higher spiritual worlds, we must first introduce something he heard from his teacher, the Maggid of Mezritch. This teaching is based on the verse where Avrohom Avinu says, ואנכי עפר ואפר—"And I am dust and ashes."

This introduction is crucial, because it sets the stage for understanding the true distance between the soul as it exists in a person and the Divine source from which it comes. The Alter Rebbe is preparing us not to take the idea of the soul being a "part of Hashem" too literally, and to appreciate the vast difference between the two.

He explains that Avrohom Avinu made this statement about the radiance of his soul, which shone within his physical body. This radiance, this special light, came from the חסד עליון—the supreme kindness, or the highest level of chesed.

In other words, the unique spiritual energy that illuminated Avrohom's life and actions was a direct result of this elevated Divine kindness shining into him. This is not just a general statement about Avrohom's greatness, but a specific description of the source of his spiritual power.

This Divine kindness became the defining trait of Avrohom—מדתו, his characteristic. Specifically, it was the trait of אהבה רבה—a great and boundless love. The text notes that this was the love that was "in him," meaning it was the very essence of his being.

Avrohom loved Hashem with such an intense and elevated love that he became a מרכבה—a chariot—for the Divine. This means he was so completely devoted and nullified to Hashem that he had no sense of self; his entire being was only to serve and express G‑dliness in the world.

Now, one might think—וסד"א—that the level of chesed and love found above, in the supernal sefiros, is somehow of the same type or category as the great love of Avrohom Avinu. Maybe, we might imagine, the difference is only in degree: the love above is greater and more wondrous, "higher and higher without end or limit," but it's still essentially the same kind of love as Avrohom's, just on a much higher level.

This is a natural assumption, since Avrohom is described as a chariot to Hashem, and his love is so exalted. It would seem logical to connect his love to the Divine love found in the spiritual worlds, just on a smaller scale.

But the Alter Rebbe clarifies that the higher Divine attributes—the middos of the supernal worlds—are truly infinite. As is well known, these higher attributes have no end or limit in and of themselves, because the אור אין סוף ברוך הוא—the Infinite Light of the Blessed One—shines and is actually clothed within them. The Divine and His attributes are completely one—ואיהו וגרמוהי חד—He and His attributes are united.

This means that the love and kindness in the world of Atzilus are not just very great; they are literally infinite, because they are expressions of the Infinite Light itself.

By contrast, when it comes to the human soul—which is clothed in a physical body—its attributes, its middos, are inherently limited. The soul as it functions within a person is bound by the constraints of the material world, and so its love, kindness, and other qualities have a definite end and boundary.

This is a fundamental difference: the Divine attributes are infinite, while the human soul's attributes are finite and defined by the limitations of physical existence.

However, even with this difference, one might still think—אבל מ"מ, סד"א—that the human soul's attributes are at least of the same type or category as the supernal attributes. Maybe, despite the difference in scale, they are essentially the same kind of thing, just one is infinite and the other is finite.

This is a subtle but important point: the temptation is to see the soul's qualities as a "miniature" version of the Divine qualities, differing only in degree, not in kind.

To counter this mistaken notion, Avrohom Avinu says, ואנכי עפר ואפר—"And I am dust and ashes." This phrase is meant to illustrate that the relationship between the soul's love and the Divine love is not just a matter of more or less, but of a completely different category.

Just as ashes are fundamentally different from the original wood they come from, so too the love and kindness that a person can experience—even at the level of Avrohom Avinu—are of an entirely different order than the infinite Divine attributes. The comparison is not just about quantity, but about the very nature and essence of what each one is.

The Alter Rebbe begins by drawing an analogy from the physical world to help us understand spiritual concepts. He explains that just as האפר—the ashes—are the very essence and substance of the tree that was burned, so too, in the spiritual sense, there is a root and core that remains even after a transformation.

He points out that the tree itself was originally composed of four foundational elements, known as ד' יסודות ארמ"ע—the four elements: fire, wind, water, and earth. This composition is not just a mystical idea, but something that can be observed in the physical makeup of the tree.

The point here is that the ashes left after burning are not something foreign to the tree—they are its very core, its substance, just in a different form. This sets up the analogy for understanding how something can be both a continuation of its source and yet vastly different in its present state.

The Alter Rebbe continues by explaining what happens to the other three elements when the tree is burned. He says that the three elements—אמ"ר, which stands for fire, wind, and water—have departed and gone away. They are no longer present in the ashes.

These elements are consumed in the process of burning, and what remains is only the element of earth. The fire, wind, and water are transformed into smoke, which is created from their combination and then dissipates. This is something that can be observed and is known from the way these elements interact in the physical world.

This detail is important because it shows that the ashes are what is left after all the other elements have been separated out. The analogy is being built step by step: first, the tree is made of four elements; then, through burning, three are removed, leaving only one.

Now, the Alter Rebbe focuses on the fourth element that remains. He says that the fourth element, which was present in the tree—העפר שבו—the earth within it, is what descends below and is not affected by the fire. The fire cannot dominate or destroy this element.

This element is what remains intact after the burning process, and it is what we recognize as the ashes. The ashes are, therefore, the enduring part of the tree, the part that is not consumed or transformed into smoke. This is a crucial point in the analogy, emphasizing that even after a dramatic transformation, there is something essential that persists.

The Alter Rebbe now elaborates on the nature of the tree before it was burned. He says that the entire essence, substance, and form of the tree—its length, width, and thickness, all the physical dimensions that were visible to the eye before it was burned—were primarily derived from the element of earth within it.

Although the other elements—fire, wind, and water—were included in the tree, they were not the main contributors to its tangible form. The earth element is what gave the tree its physical presence and structure. This helps us understand that the ashes, which are the residue of the earth element, are connected to the original form of the tree, even though they appear so different now.

The Alter Rebbe explains further that העפר—the earth element—is more material than all the other elements. It is the most tangible and substantial, and it is what gives the tree its length, width, and thickness.

This is in contrast to the other elements, which are less substantial and do not contribute as much to the tree's physical dimensions. The earth element is what makes the tree a solid, visible object, and it is this element that remains as ashes after the burning process.

In contrast, the Alter Rebbe points out that the elements of fire, wind, and even water are present in the tree only in very small amounts—מעט מזעיר, a tiny fraction. They do not make up the bulk of the tree's substance.

This highlights the unique role of the earth element in providing the tree with its physical form and mass. The other elements are necessary for the tree's existence, but they do not contribute significantly to its material presence.

The Alter Rebbe sums up this part of the analogy by stating that all the length, width, and thickness of the tree—everything that made it substantial—came from the earth element. And ultimately, הכל שב אל העפר—everything returns to the earth, meaning the ashes that remain after the fire, wind, and water have been separated out.

This reinforces the idea that the core substance of the tree is the earth element, and that is what endures even after a dramatic transformation like burning. The ashes are the final, enduring product, just as the earth element was the source of the tree's physical form.

Finally, the Alter Rebbe brings out the main point of the analogy. He says that just as האפר—the ashes—have no comparison or relationship to the essence of the large tree in its original state, with all its length, width, and thickness, neither in quantity nor in quality, even though the ashes are its very substance and essence and come from it, so too in the spiritual analogy.

This means that even though the ashes originate from the tree, they are so vastly different from the tree's original form that there is no real comparison between them. The same is true when we speak about the relationship between the spiritual levels—the light or love that shines in a person compared to its source in the higher worlds. There is a connection, but the difference is so great that it is as if they are in completely different categories.

The Alter Rebbe begins by quoting what Avrohom Avinu said about his own מדתו—his personal quality, specifically the מדת החסד והאהבה—the attribute of kindness and love that shone within him and was invested in his physical body.

This means that the unique love and kindness that Avrohom Avinu embodied was not just a spiritual quality floating above, but something that actually illuminated his soul and was expressed through his physical existence. The Alter Rebbe is emphasizing that Avrohom’s love for Hashem was so powerful and so real that it became part of his very being, manifesting even in his physical actions and presence.

Avrohom Avinu reached such a level of bitul—self-nullification—that he became a complete merkava, a chariot, to Hashem. His own desires and feelings were totally nullified; all that remained was his love and dedication to the Divine. This is the context for the statement: Avrohom Avinu’s מדת החסד והאהבה was shining within him, fully integrated into his body and life.

The Alter Rebbe continues and clarifies: Even though this attribute of love and kindness that Avrohom Avinu possessed was actually the מדת האהבה וחסד העליון שבאצילות—the supreme attribute of love and kindness from the world of Atzilus—that was shining in his soul, and his soul itself was a merkava elyonah, a supreme chariot, for that Divine light.

In other words, Avrohom’s love was not just a human emotion. It was a reflection of the highest Divine attribute, the chesed and ahava of Atzilus, which is the purest, most elevated form of kindness and love in the spiritual worlds. His soul was so refined that it could serve as a vehicle for this sublime light, making him a true chariot for Hashem’s will.

This sets up the question: If Avrohom’s love is rooted in such a lofty source, how similar is it to the original Divine attribute? Is it the same thing, just in a different form, or is there a fundamental difference between the love as it exists in Atzilus and the love as it is experienced by a human being, even one as great as Avrohom?

However, the Alter Rebbe points out that despite this lofty source, when this Divine attribute descends below to be invested in a physical body, it does so ע"י השתלשלות העולמות ממדרגה למדרגה על ידי צמצומים רבים—through the chain-like progression of the worlds, from one level to the next, by means of many contractions and concealments.

This means that the original, pure light of Divine love and kindness undergoes a process of tzimtzum—contraction and limitation—as it travels from the highest spiritual realms down to the physical world. Each stage in this descent further limits and conceals the original light, so that by the time it reaches the level of a human soul in a physical body, it is vastly diminished and changed from its original state.

So, even though Avrohom Avinu’s love is rooted in the highest source, the process of descent and contraction means that what is experienced in this world is only a faint reflection of that original Divine attribute. The Alter Rebbe is preparing us to understand that there is a vast difference between the love as it exists in Atzilus and the love as it is manifest in a human being.

The Alter Rebbe now makes a crucial point: אין דמיון וערך—there is no comparison or relationship between the essence of the light of love that shines in a person and the essence of the light of love and kindness in Atzilus.

He brings a powerful analogy: The relationship is only like that of מהות העפר שנעשה אפר—the essence of dust that has become ashes—compared to its original state as a beautiful, living tree, pleasant to look at and good to eat. The ashes that remain after burning a tree are technically from the same source, but they are in a completely different category of existence. The tree was full of life, beauty, and utility; the ashes are a mere residue, lacking all the qualities of the original.

In the same way, the love that a person feels, even someone as great as Avrohom Avinu, is only a distant echo of the original Divine love in Atzilus. The process of descent and contraction has so transformed it that there is no real comparison between the two. The difference is not just one of degree, but of essence and quality—just as ashes are fundamentally different from a living tree.

And the Alter Rebbe adds: The distinction is even greater than this analogy suggests—there are thousands of differences, havdolos, separating the two. The analogy is just to give us some sense of the vast gap between the Divine attribute as it exists above and as it is manifest below.

Nevertheless, the Torah speaks כלשון בני אדם—in the language of people—using analogy and metaphor, במשל ומליצה, so that we can have some grasp of these spiritual concepts.

The Alter Rebbe is telling us that, although the comparison between the love of Avrohom Avinu and the Divine love in Atzilus is not exact and is separated by an infinite gap, the Torah still uses such analogies to help us understand. These mesholim and melitzos are the closest we can get to grasping these lofty ideas, even though the reality is far beyond our comprehension.

This entire discussion is an introduction to the deeper explanation that will follow. The Alter Rebbe wants us to appreciate both the greatness of what we possess—a reflection of Divine attributes—and the vastness of the distance between our experience and the true essence of those attributes as they exist in the highest spiritual realms.