By Yochanan Gordon
Based on a shiur of Rav Yitzchak Ginsburgh
No, you’re not dyslexic and this isn’t a mistake. To be sure, I dislike butter and would never even go so far as to write about it, let alone to spread it on a starchy surface, or any surface for that matter, due to the nausea it induces.
I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten butter. My family insists that the secret ingredient in my grandmother’s macaroni that I could not get enough of was tons of butter, but I think otherwise. It’s possible, that as a young child, my parents served me bread and butter, but from the time that I can remember it has always caused me to gag; therefore, I chose to stay far from it.
In the last nine months, I have allowed my beard to grow out. It is a phenomenon that many refer to as a “corona beard,” which is accurate in the sense that the resolution to allow it to grow was a result of the global change COVID-19 brought upon the world. But as many of you are already aware, my family dates back nine generations to the city of Lubavitch; so while some of those identifications may have skipped a generation or two, I have strove throughout my life to reconnect with many of the observances that were left behind.
Before resolving to grow out my beard, what I thought might present the biggest challenge for me, at least on an aesthetic level, was having the patience to groom it. While I haven’t exactly been trimming my beard, there are routines required to keep it tame and intact in order to give off a smart and, some might say, functional appearance.
There are people who naturally are patient and enjoy the process of grooming themselves. And while I enjoy shopping and putting myself together as far as my clothing is concerned, I could never imagine myself spending time applying special shampoo, conditioner, oil, and butter to my beard. Yes, you read that correctly — butter in order to keep it all together.
You should know that with growing a beard, while it does possess religious significance, on the flipside there is a whole community of beard-wearers and an industry of how-to guides on grooming and growing it in the most optimal way possible. So now, almost nine months in, I must say that I have impressed myself, if no one else, with my ability to spend time and expend effort to make sure it is groomed properly.
I recently ordered beard wash, conditioner, and some beard butter and began to reflect on the irony that while just hearing the word butter in its gastronomical iteration causes feelings of queasiness within me, when it comes to beard butter, not only can I put it on my fingers and rub it into my palms but I can use it accordingly on a regular basis. Despite it having the same name of the food that would result in having to hold my breath in order not to take in its smell, the application of beard butter is a seamless experience.
What was most interesting to me about the whole phenomenon was the fact that butter in its gastronomical form is paired with bread while this application gets lathered into one’s beard. It struck me as interesting that the words beard and bread possess the exact same letters, with the “r” switching positions from the second slot to the fourth.
This runs into an idea that I learned about this past Shabbos, Parashas Noach. Although we are on to Parashas Lech Lecha, there was a time when each parashah was read over a three-week period, with the entire five books being completed every three years. It’s funny, because every year as we march through the parshiyos of Sefer Bereishis I always pause and wish that we could spend more time on our review of these packed parshiyos. With that said, I felt that bringing out this idea with a unique perspective on a few words from last week’s parashah was certainly in order.
The piece, the crux of which lies ahead, was taken from a shiur on the verse “Tzohar ta’aseh la’teivah — Make a window for the teivah,” given by Rav Yitzchak Ginsburgh, in which he delineates four distinct levels of interpretation of the Ba’al Shem Tov, the Noam Elimelech, Rav Nachman of Breslov, and the Lubavitcher Rebbe.
In his command to build a teivah by which Noach’s family and select animals would be spared from the deluge, Hashem tells Noach to put in a window, or source of light. The Ba’al Shem Tov famously points out that in addition to meaning ark, the word teivah also means word. So when Hashem tells Noach “Tzohar ta’aseh la’teivah,” not only is He telling him to include a window in his construction of the ark, He is teaching us, studying these words thousands of years later, a lesson about the nature of trials and how to deal with them.
The world was created through the Torah. More specifically, though, the Mishnah in Avos states: “The world was created with ten utterances.” The Ba’al HaTanya, in the first chapter of Sha’ar HaYichud V’Ha’Emunah states that each constituted word possesses myriads of permutations in order to bring to light the various elements within creation. Throughout the six days of creation the Torah tells us about light; day and night; sun, moon, and stars; vegetation; animals; and mankind; but since there are myriads of other creations that were not singled out by name but were created by G-d in the selfsame manner, their creation is written within the myriads of permutations and numerical equivalents of each word, as the Ba’al HaTanya discusses at length in the beginning of Sha’ar HaYichud.
As such, the Ba’al Shem Tov explains that middas ha’din is essentially composed of a string of letters that in a particular permutation manifests itself in this world in a negative manner. At its core, however, everything is positive, as the verse states, “Evil does not descend from above,” meaning that nothing in its origin is negative, but is experienced in that fashion after myriads of contractions until its iteration in the world of action. This is precisely why a tzaddik has the ability to change a negative decree to a positive one, since tzaddikim see things in their origin. They have the ability to change a tzarah to tzohar or ratzah, all of which share the same letters but possess vastly more positive connotations.
The above mechanism is termed in chassidus as connecting malchus with binah. Malchus is representative of the manner in which an experience is felt in this world in contradistinction with the way it was intended at its core in binah. This is essentially the difference between weekday and Shabbos, wherein the sefirah of malchus is elevated on Shabbos into binah wherein human action is not necessary and is therefore prohibited on Shabbos. Likewise, the tzaddik, who is euphemistically referred to as Shabbos, possesses the ability to draw down the experience of a decree from the vantage point of its essence.
The knowledge that all things are meant ultimately for the good, regardless of how it is experienced in this world, warrants a joyful reception that has the ability to change the manner in which that particular event is experienced. The verse states: “When war occurs in your land.” The reason for this is “al ha’tzar ha’tzorer eschem,” which means that the war is due to the letters of ha’tzar, which inflicts pain upon you, as opposed to the permutations of ratzah and tzohar, which would bring up a different experience. About this, the Ba’al Shem Tov writes that the advice is to receive it with joy, which is alluded to in the next words of the verse: “V’harei’osem ba’chatzotzros” through which the experience will cause the word tzarah to change to ratzah or tzohar and redefine the way the experience is manifest in one’s life.
There were three approaches in regard to transforming a negative experience. The first was unique to the Ba’al Shem Tov and his talmidim, who were able to elevate a decree into its pre-linguistic origin in that the letters can be reassembled, as in from tzarah to ratzah or tzohar, and that is the function of chochmah, which emanates from the realm of ayin. The second manner is where malchus is elevated into binah, which is similar to the mechanism of teshuvah, which has the same letters as Shabbos and is tied to the distinction between Shabbos and the days of the week. The third manner is through prayer or receiving the experience with joy, which may not change the decree but the way in which it is perceived.
Whereas the Besht’s understanding of this verse is largely through the ability of the tzaddik to influence events as if from above looking down, the Noam Elimelech’s understanding of these verses is from a similar vantage point but from lower down, referring to the level of a tzaddik’s nullification to the words of Torah as opposed to tefillah in the words of the Besht. The Noam Elimelech is focused on the ability of the tzaddik through his Torah to draw down the unity of G-d within the multiplicity of this world.
Rebbe Nachman draws down the vantage point from above to below, wherein we are not looking at the situation from the way it is above but rather from within a level playing field where we are closed in by the darkness of this world. In Rebbe Nachman’s words, the eternal call cloaked within the words “tzohar ta’aseh la’teivah” is for each of us on our own level to muster the courage and utter an honest word between us and G-d, regardless of how distant one might seem. This, he says, elevated the person who seemed to be on a level playing field to see things from their origin above.
The Rebbe cites the interpretation of the Ba’al Shem Tov regarding transforming the events of this world from tzarah to tzohar in connection with Noach’s obligation vis-à-vis the flood and influencing the people of his generation to repent and avoid the flood, which he ultimately was unsuccessful in doing. However, the Rebbe adds a layer of meaning even on top of the Ba’al Shem Tov when he says that transforming tzarah to tzohar is not only limited to the relationship between a divine edict and the way it is manifested in this world after many contractions, but rather the word itself in Torah needs to be transformed.
What does this mean? He teaches that although every word in Torah is essentially the name of G-d from above that is imbued with the pristine holiness of truth, still their descent into this world caused them to become encumbered within the self-imposed limitations of a limited world. However, we, by our toil in Torah, were given the ability to add volume to it, in the words of the Zohar, “l’afasha lah,” which in essence means to use the wisdom of the Torah to color and impact the nuances of our day to day lives, allowing the light of Torah to enter into and permeate layers of reality and situations in which it did not previously enter.
With regard to davening, the Torah calls tefillah a ladder erected in the ground with its head reaching heaven. This characterization of tefillah, as limitless as it seems, is limited in the sense that it is rooted in the ground when it could be relegated to the expanse of heaven, detached from the shackles of this world. Therefore, the Rebbe says, the Torah says, “Tzohar ta’aseh la’teivah,” which implies that, our limitations notwithstanding, G-d gave us the wherewithal to set the words of prayer free and elevate them to a place in the essence of heaven un-relatable to the earth, from within the earth.
The Rebbe writes that specifically through our actions from within the stifling environment within which we were placed, irrespective of the limitations that it naturally places upon us, we have the power to widen the walls of nature that hover above us and unleash the limitless nature of the next world within this world. As the verse in Psalms states: “From within the straits I call to You, and You answered me from within the expanse.”
We can achieve this in two ways: From the top down or the bottom up. These two approaches correspond to the two interpretations that Rashi gives to the word tzohar, meaning either “a source of light” or a “window.” The light of the window in the terminology of Kabbalah refers to the light of z’er anpin in malchus, which means that this world that is referred to by the sefirah of malchus requires the light of the upper sefiros in order to illuminate. However, Rashi gives another interpretation that tzohar is a precious stone that gives off of its own light. This says that malchus is capable of generating its own light, the light of the moon, which in the future will revert to its place alongside the sun.
These correspond to two distinct movements: from above to below and from below to above, respectively. In the interpretation of the tzohar as a window it corresponds to the light of Torah, which we are required to connect to the giver of Torah from above to below. In the interpretation of teivah as tefillah, the Rebbe points out the obligation to give tzedakah prior to praying as a way of sending off the words of prayer with an act of righteous selflessness.
In essence, the Rebbe completely turned this equation on its head. Whereas until now the words of Torah and tefillah were meant to redeem the person from a narrow vantage point from within the limits of this world, the Rebbe is focused on us freeing the words of Torah and tefillah from their limitations as a result of their entrance into this world.
The culmination of our work in this world will be when the world, which seems to be devoid of the light of G-d, will generate a light of its own.
In a funny and somewhat lighthearted fashion, this is the message that I saw implicitly within my dislike for butter and the change of attitude by merely switching the word “bread” to “beard.”
