Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 1 - Part 3

00:02 [unclear], and we’ll come to what it says in the Gemara. The Gemara distinguishes five categories: a tzaddik for whom things are good, a tzaddik for whom things are bad, a rasha for whom things are good, a rasha for whom things are bad, and a beinoni. Although the plain meaning of the Gemara seems to be that “things are good for him” and “things are bad for him” refer to something else, not to his spiritual level, we’ll come to that. What do I bring from it here? It is explained there that these descriptions do refer to his spiritual level. “A tzaddik for whom things are good” is a complete tzaddik; “a tzaddik for whom things are bad” is an incomplete tzaddik. In other words, “things are good for him” describes the tzaddik’s spiritual level: whether he is entirely good or has a small amount of evil that is nullified to the good. And likewise with a rasha for whom things are good and a rasha for whom things are bad. So it follows that the distinctions among these five levels are not just distinctions in their physical circumstances—whether they have more sins or fewer sins, and accordingly more or less material good, as Rashi explains the Gemara on the plain level. Rather, there are five distinctions in the inner sense, meaning levels within a person’s soul. The Alter Rebbe then cites the second Gemara, in Berachos, which also implies this. Since the Gemara says, “Tzaddikim are judged by their good inclination,” we understand that a tzaddik is not merely a person with few sins and mostly merits. He has no evil inclination at all; only his good inclination judges him. The Alter Rebbe continues with the wording, “A beinoni is judged by both.” In chapter 13, the Alter Rebbe will point out the precision of the word “judged.” It does not say that both rule over the beinoni. It says that both judge him, which fits the Alter Rebbe’s explanation that a beinoni is a person who commits no sins in practice. The Alter Rebbe goes on to say: “Rabbah said.” This follows that Gemara, which discusses

01:59 the levels of tzaddikim, beinonim, and resha’im: the good inclination judges a tzaddik, while both inclinations judge a beinoni. “Rabbah said”—when Rabbah taught this passage about tzaddikim, beinonim, and resha’im, he wanted to give an example. So Rabbah said, “For example, I am a beinoni.” He was speaking to his students and wanted to give them an example to help explain these categories. So he said, “For example, I am a beinoni.” “Abaye said to him”—Abaye was Rabbah’s student—“Master, you leave no life for any creature.” Abaye told Rabbah, “You leave no one any room to live.” On the straightforward reading, “you leave no life” is an expression that appears in the Gemara a number of times. It means, “You’re putting us in a difficult position.” If you say you’re only a beinoni, you’re getting us into trouble. If you, Rabbah, our teacher, are a beinoni, then what are we? We’re nothing! You leave us no room to live. That is the plain meaning of the Gemara. But on a deeper level, the Rebbe cites several interpretations. This is explained in a number of places; the Rebbe brings several interpretations.

03:59 What do these words mean, “Master, you leave no life for any creature”? One interpretation is based on the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah. The Gemara says that on Rosh Hashanah there are three books: a book of tzaddikim, a book of beinonim, and a book of resha’im. In the judgment of Rosh Hashanah, resha’im are immediately inscribed for death, tzaddikim are immediately inscribed for life, and for beinonim, Hakadosh Boruch Hu waits until Yom Kippur. So Abaye understood Rabbah to be saying that he was a beinoni in the sense of the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah. And what does it say there? Someone who is not a beinoni but a rasha is immediately inscribed for death. That is why Abaye cried out to his teacher: “If you’re a beinoni, then what are we? If you’re a beinoni, we’re resha’im, and resha’im are immediately inscribed for death. You leave us no life.” This is an interpretation the Rebbe cites from his father, and this is also how it was learned in [unclear]. There are other interpretations and various opinions. This interpretation is brought by a number of commentators on Tanya: Abaye’s words, “You leave no life for any creature,” are based on that Gemara. If you’re a beinoni, we’re resha’im, and resha’im are immediately inscribed for death. Some also cite the teaching of our Sages, “The wicked, even in their lifetime, are called dead.” If you’re a beinoni, we’re resha’im; and if resha’im are called dead even while alive, then “you leave no life for any creature.” Some want to explain it on the basis of the verse, “A tzaddik is the foundation of the world.” The Rebbe rejects that interpretation. According to that explanation, what does “you leave no life for any creature” mean? A tzaddik is the foundation of the world; the whole world stands in the merit of a tzaddik. The Gemara says that the tzaddik is the single pillar on which the world stands, and the world exists in the merit of a tzaddik. So Abaye was saying to Rabbah: If you’re a beinoni, it is as though there is no tzaddik in the world. If Rabbah is only a beinoni, there is no tzaddik in the world—and if there is no tzaddik, how can the world exist? “You leave no life for any creature”: without a tzaddik, the world cannot endure. And a tzaddik

06:00 is the one for whose sake the world exists. I don’t like that interpretation. Why? The reason seems simple: Did Abaye think Rabbah was the only person in the world? There are other people in the world; there might be other tzaddikim. In any case, the Rebbe instead explains it as I said at the beginning. In his writings and in the Reshimos, the Rebbe explains it on the basis of the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah: If you’re a beinoni, then we are certainly not tzaddikim. And the Gemara says that only tzaddikim are immediately inscribed for life. So we, who are certainly not tzaddikim, do not have that life, and so on. Now, the Alter Rebbe adds here, “and so on.” But before we get to the “and so on,” we need to understand why the Alter Rebbe needs to quote what Abaye said to Rabbah at all. Why is it relevant here? The Alter Rebbe wants to establish what a beinoni is. Here, on the first page, he brings teachings of our Sages to examine the definition of a beinoni, and he raises various questions from the Gemara and the Sages. It would have been enough to quote, “Rabbah said: I am a beinoni.” That’s it. Rabbah said he was a beinoni. Then we would have to understand the question the Alter Rebbe asks later: How could Rabbah be a beinoni? His mouth never ceased from Torah study! How could he be merely a beinoni if a beinoni means someone with half merits and half sins? How could Rabbah have thought of himself

07:55 as a beinoni when his mouth never ceased from Torah study? To raise the question the Alter Rebbe raises here, it would have been enough to say, “Rabbah said: I am a beinoni.” Why does he also need to quote Abaye’s response? The Rebbe asks this question and gives three answers. The first answer is that by quoting the continuation, “Abaye said to him,” the Alter Rebbe clarifies which version of the Gemara he is following. In our text of the Gemara in Berachos, it does not say Rabbah; it says Rava: “Rava said: I am a beinoni.” There are texts that read “Rabbah said,” and the Alter Rebbe chose that version. But why did he choose specifically “Rabbah”? His whole question rests on the fact that Rabbah’s mouth never ceased from Torah study. How could he claim to have as many sins as merits? That was Rabbah. So how do we know that the speaker here was Rabbah? Perhaps it was Rava, as in our text of the Gemara. The Alter Rebbe quotes the continuation: “Abaye said to him: Master, you leave no life for any creature.” “Master” is a term of respect. Abaye addressed Rabbah that way. Abaye and Rava were colleagues, whereas Abaye was Rabbah’s student. He was not only Rabbah’s student; he was like a son to him. If you know a little of the history, Abaye was orphaned of both his father and his mother, and he grew up in the home of his uncle Rabbah. Rabbah was like a father to him. He would sometimes even call Rabbah’s wife “Mother.” Several times in the Gemara, Abaye says, “Mother told me,” meaning Rabbah’s wife. Abaye grew up in Rabbah’s home. Yes.

09:50 So they were friends, Abaye and Rava. They argued all the time. And when Abaye spoke to Rava—with an alef—he would not call him “Mar.” So from the continuation of the Gemara’s wording, “Mar leaves no one any life,” we have proof that the correct version must be Rabbah. That is the first answer. That is why the Alter Rebbe quotes the continuation: simply to establish the correct reading. Then the Rebbe gives another answer: it strengthens the Alter Rebbe’s question. What did we explain? What is Abaye saying to Rabbah? If you are a beinoni, then we are resha’im, and “the wicked are called dead.” Yes, the wicked are called dead. So then we are all dead. “Mar leaves no one any life.” You leave no one alive. What does this show? That Abaye understood beinoni to mean someone with half merits and half sins. Because the Gemara in Rosh Hashanah is certainly speaking about half merits and half sins. Only someone with a majority of sins is immediately consigned to death. When the Gemara says there that resha’im are immediately consigned to death, it is speaking about judgment. As the Alter Rebbe will say later, someone who is wicked in his judgment—who has a majority of sins—is liable to death. For someone with half and half, they wait until Yom Kippur. There, tzaddik, beinoni, and rasha are not being used as they are in Tanya; they refer simply to judgment. So from Abaye’s statement, “Mar leaves no one any life,” we understand that Abaye took beinoni to mean half merits and half sins. This strengthens the Alter Rebbe’s question: How could Rabbah claim to have sins amounting to half his deeds? How could Rabbah have made a mistake and thought he had half merits and half sins? The question becomes clearer. Ah, but according to this, the answer will not make sense. After all, the Alter Rebbe ultimately explains that a beinoni has no sins at all. So we have to say that Abaye did not know this. Abaye thought that beinoni

11:53 meant half merits and half sins. That is why he said to Rabbah: If you are a beinoni, we are all dead, because Abaye thought that by beinoni Rabbah meant a beinoni in judgment, with half merits and half sins. If so, we are all resha’im and have no life at all. But afterward, when Rabbah explained it to him—when Rabbah explained what he really meant—he explained the conclusion: When Rabbah said “beinoni,” he did not mean the beinoni Abaye had in mind. He meant the beinoni of Tanya: “I am a beinoni.” But that is the second answer. That is why the Rebbe quotes Abaye’s continuation, “Mar leaves no one any life,” to strengthen the question of how Rabbah could call himself a beinoni. The third answer: Abaye says to him, “Mar leaves no one any life.” The third answer is the reverse of the second. The students were debating with Rabbah, and Rabbah comes along and says, “Listen, everyone, there is a tzaddik, a beinoni, and a rasha. I am a beinoni.” Come on—when a student hears that from his teacher, it means something else entirely. Rabbah comes along and says, “I am not a tzaddik; I am a beinoni.” What should Abaye answer him? “Mar leaves no one any life”? Why say that to him? What are you talking about? Why answer him that way? Abaye should say to Rabbah, “How can you be a beinoni? Your mouth never stops studying.” That is what he should tell him. Rabbah comes along and says, “I am not a tzaddik; I am a beinoni.” Abaye should immediately say, “You are not a beinoni—you never stop learning.” What does he say instead? “Mar leaves no one any life.” That is an entirely separate issue. Tell him, “You are not a beinoni because you learn all the time.” This proves that Abaye, too, knew that the two are not contradictory. A person can be someone whose mouth never

13:57 stops studying, and nevertheless be called only a beinoni. So on the contrary, this strengthens the question. What Abaye says supports the Alter Rebbe’s point that a beinoni has no sins at all. That is why Abaye did not ask him, “Why do you call yourself a beinoni when your mouth never stops studying?” Abaye, too, knew that a beinoni is someone who has no sins at all, yet is still called a beinoni. So the fact that Rabbah learns all the time is not yet proof that he is a tzaddik. He may still be only a beinoni. The problem is something else, Rabbah: if you are a beinoni, then “Mar leaves no one any life.” That is the third way the Rebbe explains the passage. Now we understand why the Alter Rebbe quotes Abaye’s statement. On the contrary, it is evidence that beinoni has a deeper meaning—that it does not mean someone with half sins and half mitzvos. Even someone with no sins at all can still be only a beinoni. So the Rebbe adds that the “etc.” serves a purpose here too. All right, let’s just jump to... the straightforward meaning, etc., because the Gemara continues with another discussion there. The Gemara goes on to discuss several more matters concerning tzaddikim, beinonim, and resha’im. So he also wants to allude to the continuation of the discussion, where it is clear that tzaddik and beinoni mean a tzaddik and a beinoni in judgment. And the Gemara in Berachos. But on a deeper level, the Rebbe says that “etc.” alludes to something deeper. In that Gemara there is a version in which, after Abaye asks Rabbah, “Mar leaves no one any life,” Rabbah answers him. Some versions of the Gemara have this wording, though others do not: Rabbah answers, “A person knows within himself whether he is a rasha or

15:39 a tzaddik.” That is how Rabbah answered him. You say, “Mar leaves no one any life,” if I am a beinoni. But this is something only a person himself knows; you cannot tell from the outside. He answered something along those lines: “A person knows within himself whether he is a tzaddik or a rasha.” What kind of answer is that? What does “a person knows within himself” mean? If being a beinoni means half merits and half sins, what does “within himself” mean? How is that an answer? I see you studying all the time; your mouth never stops studying. So what does “within himself” mean? Being a tzaddik is something plainly visible. It is plainly visible: you learn twenty-four hours a day. You do not stop learning for a moment. So how can you—what do you mean by “within himself”? This itself is further proof for the Alter Rebbe that being a beinoni is something within a person, something internal. A person’s mouth might never stop studying; he may learn all the time, and nevertheless not yet be a tzaddik—only a beinoni. That is why the Alter Rebbe writes “etc.,” alluding also to the continuation of the Gemara. Ah, if so, why did the Alter Rebbe not write it explicitly? It is such clear proof that beinoni refers to something more internal, something known within oneself. The Alter Rebbe did not write it explicitly because there are two versions of the text, and it does not appear in most editions of the Gemara. So he wrote only “etc.” to allude to that version. Now the Rebbe makes one more point. In any event, all of this concerns the Gemara. The Alter Rebbe then says, “To understand all this.” In any event, what have we seen here? We have seen that, up to this point, every word in Tanya is precise and carefully chosen, and can be explained in a truly remarkable way.

17:21 The Rebbe illuminated the Tanya—and there is still much more from the Rebbe that we have not covered. But from what we have seen, the Rebbe illuminated the Tanya with explanations showing how remarkably precise every word is. “To understand all this thoroughly”: to understand everything we have learned so far, and all the distinctions we have discussed between these levels. “And also to understand what Iyov says in the first chapter of Bava Basra.” Here is another matter: the Alter Rebbe now adds another question to the subject we are discussing. So we have another difficulty, from the first chapter of Bava Basra. The Gemara relates that when Iyov complained to Hakadosh Boruch Hu about his plight, he said, “Master of the Universe, You created tzaddikim and You created resha’im.” As the Gemara there tells it, Iyov argued to Hakadosh Boruch Hu that everything comes from Above: “You created tzaddikim and You created resha’im”; You created fools and wise people, poor people and rich people. Hakadosh Boruch Hu made it all from Above, as though they had to be that way. The Alter Rebbe asks: “But He does not declare whether one will be a tzaddik or a rasha.” How can Iyov come and say, “You created tzaddikim and You created resha’im”? That is not true. He does not declare whether one will be a tzaddik or a rasha. Elsewhere, in Tractate Niddah, the Gemara says that before a soul descends into a body, an angel is appointed over the pregnancy. That angel declares whether the person who will be born will be poor or rich, wise or foolish, along with several other things. But he does not say whether the person will be a tzaddik or a rasha, because that is a matter of free choice. So how can Iyov say here, “You created tzaddikim and You created resha’im”—the opposite of the truth? He does not declare whether one will be a tzaddik or a rasha. The two passages of Gemara seem to contradict each other. Here too, the Alter Rebbe adds “etc.” The Rebbe finds a remarkably precise point in this as well. Because

19:26 There’s a simple question here. Why does the Alter Rebbe raise a question from Iyov? Iyov made many mistakes. The Gemara itself says so, right there in Bava Basra. It says Iyov was mistaken about several things. One of them was that he said to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, “Master of the Universe, You’ve confused Iyov with an enemy.” When Iyov suffered so much pain and so many troubles, he began saying things he shouldn’t have said. Of course, he was wrong about things that were not consistent with emunah, with Judaism. So why are we raising a question from Iyov here? He was mistaken about several things; perhaps he was mistaken about this too. He cried out, “You created the righteous and You created the wicked.” That’s not true. You’re mistaken, Iyov. So the Alter Rebbe alludes to this with “etc.” What does “etc.” mean? The Gemara goes on to say that Hakadosh Boruch Hu answered all his questions. When he said, “You created the righteous and You created the wicked”—what did Hakadosh Boruch Hu... not Hakadosh Boruch Hu, sorry, his friends, the friends who came to comfort him and visit him—what did they answer? They answered, “I created the yetzer hara, and I created the Torah as its antidote.” You’re crying out, “You created the righteous and You created the wicked”? Study Torah and you’ll see. It will heal you. But if “righteous or wicked” is not declared, why give him an answer about Torah being the antidote? Tell him, “You’re missing the point. ‘Righteous or wicked’ is not declared.” Answer the question itself. The fact that the Gemara gives a different answer, about Torah being the antidote, seems to imply that there is some... how do you put it? There is some truth to what he said: “You created the righteous and You created the wicked.” So that’s a contradiction. Here it says, “You created the righteous and You created the wicked,” while there it says, “‘Righteous or wicked’ is not declared.” According to what the Alter

21:15 Rebbe will explain later, this will be understood beautifully: there is such a concept as “You created the righteous and You created the wicked,” and it does not contradict “‘Righteous or wicked’ is not declared.” When it says “‘Righteous or wicked’ is not declared,” it means righteous or wicked in the legal sense. That is not declared. Everyone has free choice whether to be righteous or wicked in that sense—whether to behave as the Torah requires. There is free choice in that. But “You created the righteous and You created the wicked” refers to the spiritual level of a tzaddik or a rasha. That is given from Above; that is how Hakadosh Boruch Hu creates a person. This also includes a beinoni, as we’ll explain further on. Here “rasha” means a beinoni who has a soul that must struggle with the yetzer hara. It does not mean someone wicked in the straightforward, legal sense. And this is something that comes from home. Tonight is the eve of the seventh day of Pesach, so let me tell a story connected with the eve of the seventh day of Pesach. He tells it in one of his writings. He relates that on the eve of the seventh day of Pesach in 5609—first, he explains there the great value of a chassidic farbrengen. Sorry, he explains that a chassidic farbrengen brings and gives life to everyone; it is the lifeblood of Chassidus. It reaches every level, from the greatest chossid to the simplest chossid, from head to foot. I won’t go into that at length. He then relates what happened on the eve of the seventh day of Pesach in 5609. The Rebbe Maharash entered the Tzemach Tzedek’s room and saw him sitting with Tehillim and crying. He was saying Tehillim, and tears were streaming from his eyes. The Rebbe Maharash was heartbroken. He naturally assumed that the Rebbe was crying over all the troubles in Russia at the time. There were many

23:18 troubles. The Jewish people suffered terribly, both from the maskilim, who wanted to make all kinds of changes to Jewish education, and from the... well, what were they? The Cantonists. It was a time of harsh decrees and all kinds of hardships for the Jewish people, so he assumed that was why the Tzemach Tzedek was saying Tehillim. Meanwhile, the Tzemach Tzedek closed the Tehillim and began speaking with him. He realized that the Tzemach Tzedek was crying for an entirely different reason. The Tzemach Tzedek told him, “Today marks fifty years since I was last at a chassidic farbrengen. Today marks fifty years since I was last at a chassidic farbrengen.” What had happened? He told him his story. When he was a child, and later a young man, the Alter Rebbe told him that he should go around to chassidic farbrengens. He would spend hours and hours going from one chassidic farbrengen to another to hear a word from chassidim. Chassidic farbrengens, with chassidim—not with a Rebbe. Just chassidim. And then, when he was twenty, on the eve of Shavuos, 5 Sivan 5569, the Alter Rebbe said to him, “Mendel, [unclear].” In general, every year on the eve of Shavuos—I don’t know why, but that’s how it’s related there—the Alter Rebbe would give the Tzemach Tzedek a special blessing and say a maamar of Chassidus to him in yechidus. On the eve of Shavuos 5569, the Alter Rebbe said to the Tzemach Tzedek, “Mendel, at twenty a person may sell his father’s property.” He explained the significance of twenty years according to Chassidus, and then blessed him that he should merit to sell his father’s property, that he should merit to be a tzaddik. It was already a blessing from the Rebbe, a blessing of that kind—a wording that... a wording appropriate for a Rebbe. From then on, the chassidim began treating the Tzemach Tzedek with more distance, with honor, with a certain reverence, so it was no longer

25:34 as it had been. When he came to a farbrengen, they would speak in his presence and began showing him honor, as someone of stature. Until then, he had mingled among the chassidim and could sit at a chassidic farbrengen like everyone else and listen. But now, whenever he came to a farbrengen, they would stop talking and honor him by asking him to speak. So he saw that he could no longer do it, and he stopped coming. Right? So the Tzemach Tzedek said, “Now, when I remember how much I gained from going around to chassidic farbrengens until I was twenty—even though it takes a great deal of time, because sometimes you sit at a farbrengen and don’t gain anything, right? But eventually you hear a word, eventually you hear something. I remember how much I gained from chassidic farbrengens, and I long for those days. That is why I’m so brokenhearted that for fifty years I haven’t had that opportunity.” The Rebbe Maharash heard this. And he said: Imagine, we’re talking about a Rebbe, the grandson of a Rebbe, someone who spent hours upon hours every day studying Torah—Nigleh, Chassidus, Kabbalah, everything. A tzaddik, the son of a tzaddik, with all the spiritual attainments of the Tzemach Tzedek. And still, what was he crying about? What troubled him? He longed for chassidic farbrengens? The Rebbe Maharash said, “Until then, I hadn’t liked attending chassidic farbrengens. I valued my time very highly, and it seemed to me that sitting at a farbrengen was a waste of time. You sit there, and in the end, sometimes you don’t hear a worthwhile word; sometimes you do. So I didn’t like sitting at farbrengens. When I heard this, I began to value chassidic farbrengens. From then on, it became clear to me, it settled in my mind,” as he puts it, “that a chassidic farbrengen is like the purifying waters of the red heifer.” That’s how he concludes

27:15 the—those purifying waters are the waters of the red heifer, right? Just as the red heifer purifies a person from impurity. That’s the story, which happened precisely on the eve of Shavuos.