הסבי עיניך וגו׳

The maamar opens with the verse in the Song of Songs where the beloved says to the bride, “Turn away your eyes from Me, for they have overwhelmed Me”; in Chassidus the beloved is G‑d and the bride is the Jewish people. To explain what the bride’s “eyes” are, the Alter Rebbe notes that the righteous are called G‑d’s eyes, and he brings two verses: G‑d’s eye rests on those who fear Him, and He guards Israel like the pupil of His eye.

The eyes belong to the face, and the face is where a person’s life-force is concentrated: there are sight and hearing, and a person’s thought goes wherever he looks. The back of the head, by contrast, has only a little life-force, a spillover of the light and radiance that fill the face.

The hair at the back of the neck is the image of this lesser life: it is only an outward extension of the radiance of the face. The Jewish people, the Alter Rebbe says, are the “face” in this picture, the place of sight and hearing, and he alludes to the verse about G‑d’s eyes roaming over the whole earth.

The Priestly Blessing, “May Havayah make His face shine upon you,” is read in this light: G‑d shines upon Israel so that they will have a “face” toward Him. Having a “face” here means a will and a longing turned to G‑d.

A parenthesis adds a verse from Psalms: the heart’s call “Seek My face” means that the inner depth of the heart should come into the open, and this happens through “Your face, Havayah, I will seek,” as a fuller discussion on the verse “When you go out” explains. The proverb “As water reflects face to face” expresses the reciprocity: the face a person turns to G‑d is the face reflected back to him.

The next phrase of the blessing, “May Havayah lift up His face to you,” addresses a harder case: when sins create a separation, so that we no longer have a “face” toward G‑d. Even then G‑d, in His goodness, gives us that “face,” even when we have no awareness of it at all.

A parenthesis explains why “lifting up” can do this: it raises the matter to a level above tzimtzum, the divine self-contraction, where there is no “back” at all. From there comes an extra elevation, the “excess of loftiness” (yeser se’es, from the same root as yisa, “lift up”), which draws down a “face” even at a time when we have none of our own.

This is the plea of the piyut Merubim tzorchei amcha, as the Kehot note identifies it: “We have no face; we come to entreat Your face.” The two phrases of the blessing match two kinds of mitzvos: “shine His face” is drawn down through the Torah’s own commandments, and “lift up His face” through the Rabbinic ones, as the Gemara says that G‑d lifts His face to Israel because they are strict with themselves to bless Him even over an olive’s bulk.

Pharaoh is the opposite of the “face”: the letters of his name, פרעה, are the letters of הערף, “the nape” (the back of the neck). He has no “face” toward holiness at all; whatever life-force he has comes to him only from the back, like something thrown behind one’s shoulders without turning to face the one who receives it.

Esav is described the same way. Yaakov calls him “my brother,” and indeed he receives a little light from holiness, but Yaakov also calls him “a hairy man”: his share comes only from the level of hair, the back of the neck, and never from the “face.”

The Exodus is read the same way: “We were slaves to Pharaoh,” the “nape,” and G‑d brought us out into the level of “face.” Therefore every Jew’s will is always to cleave to the One G‑d and never to be separated from Him; when he is busy with business, that is only forgetfulness, itself a form of the “back,” and not a real turning away.

The proof is that even in the middle of his business, the moment he is reminded of G‑d, his heart is stirred toward Him. This is the sense of “one nation on earth”: even while a Jew is in the realm of “earth,” busy with worldly matters, he remains “one,” bound to the One.

The parenthesis refers to the discourse on “Return, O Israel,” and its words on “while He is near,” which deal with restoring the face-to-face relationship. If it seems to us that we are not always bound to G‑d, that impression comes only from a “spirit of folly,” a confusion that hides the truth.

Now the bride’s plea “Sustain me with flagons” is explained. In the time of the Temple, G‑d was with Israel face to face, with no separating screen: that was “love in delights.” Now, in exile, a partition of iron stands between them.

That is why she calls herself “lovesick”: the senses of love have weakened, so that people call bitter sweet, because we have lost the “taste and scent” of G‑dliness. The phrases about tasting, “Taste and see that Havayah is good” and “those who taste it merit life,” show that closeness to G‑d is meant to be tasted.

So although at the time of prayer everyone has a “face,” a strong longing to cleave to G‑d, when he goes about his business he is in a state of “hidden face,” concealed from G‑d.

The parenthesis applies the verse “My dove, in the hiding place of the steps”: the dove stands for the eyes, as in “Your eyes are doves,” that is, the “face,” and in exile that face is hidden away.

Even Torah study, when it deals with the plain physical meaning of the law, does not by itself give a “face” and cleaving to G‑d, because the Torah has come down through many stages and become clothed in physical subjects. The partition of exile is what turns this into a state of lovesickness.

Therefore she asks to be sustained “with flagons,” jugs of “the preserved wine,” which, as the next part explains, is the hidden wine of the Torah’s inner dimension. This is what would hold the love steady so that it does not falter.

The parenthesis refers to the discourse on “His eyes are red with wine”: tasting the wine of the Torah, its inner dimension, works like the saying “wine enters, a secret comes out,” and reveals “great love” (ahavah rabbah). The eyes become “red” with the burning passion of love, and the word chachlili is also read as the palate (chech) that tastes.

What the bride wants is to remain always in the state of “my soul expires” for G‑d, a love so intense that the soul longs to go out of itself toward Him. This is the plea of the Congregation of Israel: through these “flagons” her eyes would always be turned to G‑d, and she would have nothing to do with lower, worldly matters.

To this G‑d answers, “Turn away your eyes from Me,” and the Alter Rebbe gives the Zohar on Vayechi and Kedoshim and the Midrash Rabbah on the Song of Songs as the places where the verse is read this way. He grants that this intense love is a great level.

Yet it is meant only for a time, during prayer, when one “gazes upon the glory of the King.” Afterwards a person must turn to shov, “returning” to the world to serve G‑d there, and that is the purpose of creation.

For the sake of ratzo, the soul’s “running” toward G‑d with a burning love, the soul would not have needed to come down and be clothed in a body: above, before its descent, its ratzo was even greater. The descent must therefore be for the sake of the shov.

Burning love by itself is not the goal of serving G‑d, as the Alter Rebbe explains elsewhere on the verse “When you come into the land of your dwellings.” The service must be ratzo and shov, “running and returning,” as in the teaching “If your heart runs, return to the One”: the soul’s run toward G‑d must be followed by a return.

When love and awe and the wish to cleave to G‑d are aroused, a person must “return to the One”: turn back toward the world, so that G‑d may have a dwelling place among the lower realms. The aim of the return is to draw G‑dliness down.

G‑dliness is to be drawn into this world specifically, through Torah study that deals with physical matters, such as the laws of the forbidden and the permitted and monetary law, through actual charity and acts of kindness, and through prayer with intent. This, and not ratzo alone, is to be the main part of the service.

This is G‑d’s answer, “Turn away your eyes”: not everything should be ratzo. The word “from Me” (minegdi), the Alter Rebbe adds, is explained in the Zohar on Parshas Acharei, in its discussion of “Serafim stood above Him.”

He also refers to his discourse on “And Yaakov sent,” on Ben Azzai, the Sage who gazed into the mysteries and died, an example of ratzo without return. The next words of the verse, hirhivuni, “they have overwhelmed Me,” express greatness, as in “And I will magnify Myself.”

Ratzo comes from contemplating G‑d’s greatness: “His greatness is unsearchable,” and before Him everything is as nothing. A person who dwells on this wants to be absorbed into G‑d above and not to remain below.

But G‑d’s own will is to have a dwelling place among the lower realms, as the Sages say, “In the place of His greatness, there you find His humility”: His greatness shows itself in His coming down to what is lowly. Ratzo by itself, by contrast, corresponds to “they have overwhelmed Me,” as the next part explains.

Ratzo alone is “they have overwhelmed Me”: a sense of G‑d’s exaltation and greatness that seeks only to rise upward, without the dwelling below that is called His “humility.” The Song at the Sea shows the same: “I will sing to Havayah” is the ratzo, and “for He is exalted, exalted” is the loftiness it is drawn to.

The Levites embody ratzo. The verse “And the Levite shall serve—he” is read on the word hu, “he”: their service was to rise from the revealed world to the hidden world, which is called hu, “He,” the word used for G‑d as He is hidden, as in “You are He, Havayah, alone.”

That is why the Levites’ service was song, which lifts the soul upward. Yet the Levites were subordinate to the Kohanim, as G‑d tells Aharon that the Levites will “be joined to you and minister to you.”

The Levites, whose song is ascent, were subordinate to the Kohanim because the main thing is the drawing down that follows the ascent: the shov. Even the Levites’ melody itself had both movements, ratzo and shov.

That is why Aharon, the Kohen, waved the Levites: to sweeten the Gevuros, the forces of restraint associated with the Levites, with the Chassadim, the kindness associated with the Kohanim. For shov is the truer expression of G‑d’s greatness, as the Sages say, “And humility is greater than all of them.”

To show that shov is the higher greatness, the Alter Rebbe turns to Psalm 113: “High above all nations is Havayah… Who is like Havayah our G‑d, who is enthroned on high, who lowers Himself to look upon heaven and earth.”

The idolaters, too, exalt G‑d; as the Talmud records, they call Him “the G‑d of gods.” But because they place Him so high, they limit the drawing of His G‑dliness into this world, for they say it would be a lowering for Him to watch over what happens below.

But in truth, “Who is like Havayah our G‑d, who is enthroned on high”: He is higher than the loftiness they imagine. Their mistake is that they picture creation as a chain of cause and effect, with many links one after another, until this lowly world came into being.

If the world comes from G‑d through a chain of causes, it would seem a lowering for the First Cause to come down so far. So they conclude that He does not watch over what happens below.

In truth, G‑d is far above the whole order of cause and effect, for He is sovev kol almin, the light that encompasses all worlds and is not one of the links in their chain. Before Him, the highest wisdom (Chochmah Ila’ah) and the physical world of action are equal.

Therefore He watches over the physical world exactly as He watches over the higher Chochmah, down to every detail of a person’s life: his walking, his sitting, his rising and all his needs.

This is “humility is greater than all of them,” and this is “for He is exalted, exalted”: His true loftiness is above mere exaltation and greatness. That is why “He lowers Himself to look in heaven and on earth,” on both alike.

From this follows a lesson for divine service. A service of ratzo alone, seeking to be absorbed above, is “they have overwhelmed Me”: it assumes that G‑d’s greatness is found above.

That assumption holds only from the standpoint of memalei kol almin, the light that fills each world according to its measure, and of the chain of cause and effect. At that level one can indeed say that His greatness is more revealed above.

But at the level of sovev kol almin, the light that encompasses all worlds, above and below are equal. Therefore the main service is shov: Torah study that deals with physical matters, and charity and acts of kindness in actual deed.

This is what G‑d says to the Congregation of Israel: do not be only in ratzo; “Turn away your eyes from Me,” and let your service be in lower matters, to draw G‑dliness down. So too “And to your husband shall be your longing, and he shall rule over you”: Israel’s longing for G‑d is to be governed by His will for the world below.

The Kaddish says the same: “Magnified and sanctified… in the world that He created.” Because G‑d is holy, separate from all the worlds, the revelation of His G‑dliness can be drawn down into this physical world.

So too the words of the prayers “the great and holy King in heaven and on earth”: “the great King” is memalei kol almin, while “holy,” the separate and transcendent, is sovev kol almin. Being above all, He is in heaven and on earth equally.

The maamar turns to the next words of the verse, “Your hair is like a flock of goats,” and raises an objection: how can a person serve G‑d by engaging in lower matters? If he immerses his thoughts in worldly things, he may be left, G‑d forbid, without any cleaving to G‑d or holiness at all.

The verse itself voices this concern: “Your hair is like a flock of goats.” Hair is the body’s excess, not its essence, and the Zohar says that the external forces, the powers opposed to holiness, draw nourishment from goats’ hair.

A parenthesis spells this out: engaging in lower matters makes a person fall from the “face” into the “back,” the source of hairs and excesses. This is cleverness in worldly affairs, called “the excesses of the intellect” (mosrei mochin), the “flock of goats”; from the “face” no such hairs grow, so the question returns: how could G‑d say, “Turn away your eyes”?

That is, how could He tell Israel to leave ratzo for shov, serving Him in lower matters, when this can bring on the “hair”? True, Torah and mitzvos are the very height of “face,” as the prayer says, “By the light of Your face You gave us” the Torah.

Yet since they are clothed in physical matters, which are the “back,” a person can be drawn after the physicality of those matters. That is why the Sages said that one who says he has only Torah does not have even Torah; the Alter Rebbe also refers to his discussion of why every blessing concludes with “Blessed.”

The answer lies in the verse’s next words, “that streamed down (galshu) from Mount Gilead,” which the Alter Rebbe reads as “that were shaved”: the Targum renders “baldness” as glishta, and the Zohar on Vayechi speaks of one who shaves. He refers as well to his discourse on “When you go out,” on the captive woman who “shall shave her head.”

The point is that Torah and mitzvos are themselves from the level of “face,” so even when clothed in physical matters they have the power to push away and remove the excesses of the intellect, when a person sets his heart to it. The very occupation that seemed to bring on the “hair” is what shaves it off.

This power comes from “Mount Gilead.” Yaakov and Lavan set up a mound, Gal-ed, as a boundary between them (“This mound is witness” that neither would cross it to harm the other), and in the same way the kelipos cannot come near holiness once this mound is seen.

A parenthesis identifies the mound with the screen between holiness and the sitra achra, called Chashmal, whose root is the screen between Atzilus and Beriah. Because of that screen the kelipos cannot approach the holiness of Atzilus, which is the light of the Torah and mitzvos.

In a person’s service, this mound is the outlook the Sages describe: to the wicked it seems like a hair’s thread, to the righteous like a mountain; and “Your people are all righteous.” Every small prohibition seems to a Jew like a mountain, a screen separating him from his Maker.

This outlook comes from fear of sin, which is awe included in love: because the love is so strong, a person fears that sin might sever the cord of love. So even a small sin looks to him like a mountain and a dividing screen, and this is “Mount Gilead,” a partition that keeps the other side out.

Alternatively, the “mountain” is the holy love and Chesed (kindness) from which fear of sin is drawn, so that it becomes a gal-ed, a mound of witness and a partition between the person and the sitra achra. The Alter Rebbe refers to his discussions of fear of sin in the discourses on “And Korach took,” “The heads of the tribes” and “These are the journeys.”

So when a person takes to heart that even the lightest transgression is a mountain and a partition, he will not, G‑d forbid, remain caught in physical matters without the heart’s intent. Even while dealing with them, he will intend to draw G‑dliness down through his very words.

This service is what the Zohar calls “shaving the Matronisa”: it removes the “hair,” the excesses, of the Matronisa, the Queen, a Zohar name for the Shechinah. The Alter Rebbe refers to the end of his discourse on “On the eighth day he sent,” on the words “Before His cold.”

Finally, the name Gal-ed: it is a mound of stones, and a house that falls into ruin becomes a heap (gal) of stones. Stones are letters, so when the combinations of letters are spent on idle words, a ruined house is made, and that is why the gal is a mountain and a screen that separates a person from his Maker.