B"H

By Miriam Cohen

A Tanya Class on the Alter Rebbe’s Hillula

From limitation to “above nature,” and why our generation is called the feet

We are continuing our Tanya series, and it coincides exactly with the yahrtzeit, the hillula, of the Alter Rebbe, the author of the Tanya. The day of passing of any person, and especially a tzadik, is not only a day of remembrance. It is a day of connection.

A tzadik’s life is not “over” on the day of passing. The tradition teaches that on this day, every level of the soul ascends to a higher rung, and in that elevation there is a unique opening, a kind of spiritual portal, to draw down blessing, clarity, and salvation for ourselves and for the collective. That is why it is meaningful to light a candle, to give a little extra prayer, and to bring intention into whatever we do today, especially into Torah learning.

Before we entered the text, I felt called to pause. To take a moment of silence and send a prayer outward, for something each of us needs personally, and also for what is happening collectively. We are living through days when the world is shifting in visible ways, and when evil and oppression are being challenged and exposed. We pray that anything that changes should do so with mercy, with minimal suffering, and with the greatest possible kindness for innocent people.

And with that merit, the merit of learning Tanya on this day, may we all see salvation and blessing, personally and collectively.

A personal note: why the Alter Rebbe feels close

I wanted to share something personal before returning to Chapter Two.

For many years now, I try to begin my mornings by studying the daily portion of Tanya. Sometimes it is very simple: still in a robe, coffee in hand, opening the text while the mind is not yet loud. Over time, that practice has created something in me that is difficult to describe. A loving, almost “grandfatherly” closeness to the Alter Rebbe. Not as an abstract figure of history, but as someone whose teachings accompany daily life in a real way.

And today, while learning the Tanya portion for this day, it struck me: this section captures so much of what Tanya is. The heart of Tanya is not fantasy, and not spirituality as an escape. It is a structured, practical framework for what is possible for a human being.

Tanya does not deny nature. It does not shame nature. It teaches us to accept that every person is born with a particular temperament, tendencies, and inner wiring. That honesty alone dissolves a lot of guilt, self-hatred, and inner noise.

But it also insists on something even more powerful: you are not limited to your nature.

Through learning, reflection, meditation, and inner work, a person can access an “above nature” reality. Not by denying who they are, but by expanding beyond the box of who they assumed they must be.

This is one of the greatest gifts Tanya gave the world.

And we are watching the ripple effect today: Tanya learning is spreading across communities that historically did not touch it. People gathering in living rooms, women meeting regularly to learn, modern communities finding depth and language for the inner life. It is a quiet revolution, and it carries the imprint of the Alter Rebbe.

The question inside Chapter Two: if we all come from one source, why are we so different?

In the middle of Chapter Two, the Alter Rebbe raises a strong question:

If every Jew has a divine soul, literally a “portion of God above,” and if all souls come from a single exalted source, how do we explain the vast differences between people?

Not only differences in personality and emotional makeup, but differences in spiritual sensitivity, leadership, clarity, perception, and capacity.

He answers by introducing a metaphor that becomes central for understanding generations and spiritual structure: head and feet.

There are tens of thousands of gradations of souls, one higher than the other. The souls of the patriarchs and Moshe are described as a different quality than later generations. And our generation is described in the language of the Talmud as “the footsteps of Mashiach.”

Footsteps. Feet.

And this is not only across history. Even within every generation there are souls who function like the head and the brain, and souls who function like the feet. There are leaders, tzadikim, and guiding souls, and there are the masses.

At first glance, this sounds like a hierarchy. Head above, feet below. Important people and regular people.

But Tanya is doing something deeper.

What does “head” really mean?

Many of us assume “head” means intellect, scholarship, and brilliance. As if the “head souls” are simply the ones who can open texts and understand them, and everyone else is spiritually less.

But the deeper meaning is sensitivity.

A “head soul” is more sensitive to divine reality. More attuned to what is subtle. More aware of godliness not as an idea, but as a lived perception. That sensitivity can express itself through Torah genius, but it is not limited to Torah genius.

And the other crucial point: every single one of us contains a point of the head within us. Every Jew carries a spark of the tzadik. A point of inner clarity, inner truth, and divine sensitivity that can be developed.

The whole purpose of Tanya is to show a person how to access that point, to train it, and to bring it into daily life.

Why “feet” is not an insult

If our generation is called the “feet,” what does that mean?

Feet are not poetic. Feet are practical. Feet are movement. Feet bring the body to where it needs to go. Feet carry the mission into the lowest places.

There is a famous teaching in Chassidut that compares our generation to foot soldiers. A king will open his greatest storehouses to supply the soldiers at the front line, because the victory depends on them.

In other words: being “feet” can mean you are placed exactly where the mission needs to happen. Not in the realm of lofty perception, but in the realm of action, relationships, work, the home, struggle, distraction, fatigue, and real life.

The avodah of “feet” is to bring higher consciousness into lower spaces.

This is how redemption is built: not only by great souls in great rooms, but by ordinary people bringing intentionality into ordinary moments.

When Mashiach comes: not only when teachings spread outward, but when regular people make yichudim

There is a well-known phrase from the Baal Shem Tov: Mashiach will come “when your wellsprings spread outward,” meaning when the inner teachings of Chassidut and Kabbalah become accessible and shared.

But there is another idea connected to this: the redemption is linked to the moment when the “regular person” can make yichudim.

A yichud is a unification. On the mystical level it is spoken about as unifying divine names. But in daily life, it means something very grounded:

kavanah. intentionality. consciousness.

When someone is eating, working, speaking, parenting, walking, and brings godliness into it through awareness and intention, they are making a yichud. They are unifying heaven and earth in that moment.

And that is not reserved for elites. That is the work of the feet.

A question from the group: how do I disconnect from someone and still remember we are one?

One of the participants asked a deeply important and relatable question:

Sometimes you need to disconnect from people, even Jews. How can you make peace with that if we are all from the same source?

The answer touches the heart of Tanya:

There is a difference between a person and their actions.

A person can be acting מתוך שטות, from a spirit of confusion, hijacked by ego, survival mode, pain, or the animal soul. That does not mean the essence of the person is not rooted in holiness. It means their behavior is out of alignment with it.

And boundaries are not a contradiction to love. Boundaries are not a contradiction to unity. They are often required for truth and for safety.

You are not required to fix everyone. You are not required to heal everyone. You are not required to remain close to what harms you.

But you can still hold a deeper view: their essence is pure, even if their behavior is not safe to be around.

And this perspective does something else: it gives you compassion for yourself.

Because it helps you separate your own essence from your own moments of misalignment. You are not defined by your worst reactions. You are not trapped in shame. There is always the possibility of repair. There is always teshuvah.

The metaphor returns: the child, the brain, and the toenails

The Alter Rebbe then brings a powerful metaphor:

A child comes from a drop that originates in the father’s brain, yet through gestation that same drop becomes everything, from the highest faculties to the toenails.

The toenails are the most external, most “concealed” part of a person. They have the least visible vitality. And yet they come from the same original essence.

This is the point:

The highest soul and the lowest soul come from the same source.

The leader and the simple person come from the same source.

The person aflame with love of God and the person feeling distant and numb come from the same source.

So yes, people have different natures. Some have thicker coverings. Some have deeper pain. Some have more confusion. Some have fewer tools. Some have more tools. Some have more “head” available, some live more as “feet.”

But it is never impossible.

Because the source is the same.

And that is why Tanya is so empowering: it speaks directly to the part of you that believes, “This is just who I am, I cannot change.” It says: accept your nature, yes. But do not make it a prison. You have access to something deeper than nature, because your root is higher than nature.

The unity of head and feet

A body cannot live with a head alone. A body cannot live with feet alone. Redemption is built through the unity of the two.

This is why Moshe, the greatest “head soul,” says after the sin of the golden calf: if You destroy them, erase me from Your book. He binds himself to the people even when they fall. The head sacrifices for the feet, because the head and the feet are one body.

And that is also the invitation for us: to find our place in the body, to honor our role, and to bring our portion of divine consciousness into the world, in whatever form our life actually takes.

Closing

We ended today without pushing further in the text, but the essence of the teaching landed clearly:

We all have nature, and we all have coverings.

But we all come from one source.

And because of that, transcendence is always possible.

May the merit of the Alter Rebbe, and the merit of learning Tanya on his hillula, bring blessing, healing, and salvation to each of us personally, and to our people and the world collectively.