Likkutei Amarim Tanya - Chapter 3 - Part 4

00:00 Speaker 1 And although there are many different levels among souls, they all share a common point that connects them: they come from the same source, the same essence, which is what is meant by the source from which souls are hewn. After that, he discusses one’s teacher, through whom one receives life, and so on. In chapter 3 he began discussing the faculties of the soul. He said that the soul has ten faculties. When he came to those ten faculties, he said they are divided into two groups: the intellectual faculties and the emotions. What are the intellectual faculties? Chochmah, Binah, and Daas. Since we are speaking about the G-dly soul, the entire concern of its Chochmah, Binah, and Daas is G-dliness alone. And these three—Chochmah, Binah, and Daas—are each distinct. So first he explains Chochmah, then Binah, and now he comes to explain Daas. In short, the point the Alter Rebbe explained is that Chochmah is koach mah, the faculty of “what.” Chochmah is the initial point of an idea. That is, when someone grasps a G-dly concept, there is the point of Chochmah—the initial point of the idea. That is how it expresses itself. He said it is koach mah, the quality of self-nullification, and that is the initial point of the idea. This is Chochmah. But afterward one has to take that point and expand and clarify it in detail. We explained this at length earlier, when we learned the subject. The difference between Chochmah and Binah, when discussing G-dliness, is that in Chochmah there is the higher light within the idea. That is, when someone studies a concept in Chassidus, for example—a G-dly concept—there is more of the point itself, the illumination within it, the central insight of the maamar. That is the nature of Chochmah, koach mah. Afterward,

02:20 Speaker 1 there is the explanation of how he understands it in his own words. A person takes an insight, an abstract idea—a G-dly concept, which is abstract—and then brings it down through explanations, questions, and examples. He understands it within his own world. That is called Binah. This is why Chochmah and Binah are “nothing” and “something.” Chochmah is “nothing”: there is self-nullification there, the new insight itself. Binah is “something,” because here there is engagement and activity. That is also why he calls them father and mother. The distinction between father and mother is the same idea. Father represents the initial insight, the point. As we discussed in chapter 2 concerning the drop, it contains no elaboration. Only the general point of the matter is there. Then comes the mother, and all the details emerge, taking on their form. The same applies to Chochmah and Binah. From them come the emotions. Now the question is: What is Daas? After all, if a person already has the general principle, and not only that but also understands it—meaning he has brought it into his own world and can discuss the subject in his own words—then what is still missing from his understanding? Why do we need a third component here? What is Daas? He already has the central point and the details; he understands every detail. He can explain it to someone else, too. So seemingly, everything is already there in those two. What he lacks is feeling; he lacks love and awe—the emotions. But those are already offspring, already children. There is already a father and a mother. So what exactly is the role of Daas? This is what the Alter Rebbe

04:03 Speaker 1 comes to explain here, in the last part of the chapter. The Alter Rebbe puts it this way: Daas comes from the expression “And Adam knew Eve.” The meaning of Daas is the kind of “knowing” in “And Adam knew Eve.” Here, “knew” means an inner connection. “And Adam knew Eve” speaks of marriage, of Adam joining with Eve. When we say someone “knows,” that ordinarily means he is acquainted with someone. But “knowing” can also mean not mere acquaintance, but an inner familiarity. That is why marriage is described as “knowing.” “And Adam knew Eve” does not mean superficial knowledge, like Reuven knowing about Shimon. It means knowing Eve through an inner bond, through marriage. So we see that Daas is not mere knowledge—abstract or detached, external knowledge. Rather, Daas means inner recognition; it implies bonding and connection. In other words, Daas means to bond and connect. What does that mean in the realm of understanding? He already has the intellectual grasp. He already has the breadth of the subject; he has both of those through Binah. What needs to be connected here? What is this bond? So the Alter Rebbe explains: “He binds his Daas with a very firm and strong bond.” A person binds his Daas, binds his mind, with a very firm and strong bond. In simpler words, this is seemingly what we call concentration. Concentration. The same thing, yes. Focusing, concentrating: “He binds his Daas with a very firm and strong bond.” A person needs to bind himself firmly. “And fixes his thought firmly on the greatness of the Ein Sof, blessed be He.” He fixes it there. He throws himself with all his strength into contemplating the greatness of his Creator. In other words—wait—“and does not divert his attention.” Without stopping, without

06:28 Speaker 1 interruption, without letting his attention wander. So, in general, what is the Alter Rebbe saying? After you have the insight and have done the intellectual work thoroughly, nothing is lacking in your comprehension. You understand the matter fully. You can expound on it, give a class, and explain it beautifully to someone else. What is missing? Binding yourself to the matter. Bonding and connection mean bringing your whole being into it, binding your Daas with a firm and strong bond. You fix yourself on it; you connect yourself to the matter. In other words, what is missing is that the person and the idea are two separate things. There is the understanding, there are the details, there is everything. But the person and the idea still remain two separate worlds. Daas means bringing yourself into the idea you are explaining, connecting yourself to it—connecting your whole being to it. Within this, the Alter Rebbe speaks of three things. If we look at the wording of the Tanya, there are three expressions the Alter Rebbe uses. First, the Alter Rebbe says—what does Daas do? First, he says, “He binds his Daas with a very firm and strong bond.” Second, he says, “And fixes his thought firmly on the greatness of the Ein Sof, blessed be He.” And third, he says, “And does not divert his attention.” These are three aspects of what Daas does. First, “he binds his Daas with a very firm and strong bond” means focusing his mind. The mind can be scattered and fragmented. An idea can spread out. When a person thinks about something with many details, there is a stage when he sees all those details. He understands the subject and sees its many particulars. Especially when he reaches Binah, which is the breadth of the subject, there are many details. Say someone

08:37 Speaker 1 is studying a Talmudic topic. There is the central point of the topic. He learns that point, and then studies the topic in depth. The point of migo, for example, can be expressed in one word. That is the point. Afterward, he learns its many details; he has all the particulars of the subject. That is its breadth and depth. Daas means bringing the mind together, focusing it on one point. After all the elaboration, one has to focus the mind. Otherwise, amid all those details, he will never arrive at any feeling from it, because he does not know what the point is or what to grasp. So that is the first thing: bringing all that breadth, all that understanding, together into one point. The second detail, “and fixes his thought firmly,” is to bind himself to the matter. The first is to bring his mind together, to focus it. The second is to bring himself into the matter. That is, he invests himself in it, in the matter he has grasped through his understanding. And now all that exists for him is the point, the idea, the thing itself. Nothing else exists right now. All that exists here is the concept he is grasping. That is the second thing: “And fixes his thought firmly on the greatness of the Ein Sof, blessed be He.” In other words, he brings himself into the matter. After that it is called, I think—I’m not sure, but I think it is called [unclear]. Maybe in English it is called “focus.” Focus. Something like that. Yes, focus. That means—it is an English word. It’s English. Yes. So he looks at the matter; he gazes into it. He enters into it, and only that reality exists. Nothing else.

10:33 Speaker 2 Focus.

10:34 Speaker 1 Huh?

10:35 Speaker 2 Focus.

10:36 Speaker 1 Maybe. Right. And there is... After that comes a third point, which is actually very important. The third aspect of daas is that he does not divert his attention. “Does not divert his attention” means without interruption—constantly, all the time. If a person does this for only ten minutes a month, nothing will happen either. A person can concentrate and delve deeply, connecting himself to the subject. But if he does it once in a while, it still will not have its effect. There is a third condition: he does not divert his attention. It is again and again and again and again, without interruption. These three elements are daas, which brings about a third stage in the intellect: the idea should not remain something abstract, something separate from me, something external, but should become part of the person. Only then can something else emerge from it. The Rebbe continues: “For even one who is wise and understanding of the greatness of the blessed Ein Sof.” A person may be wise and understanding of the greatness of the blessed Ein Sof. He may have both chochmah and binah; he is wise and understanding. He has the quality of intellectual insight and the quality of binah. He has wonderful original insights and also knows how to explain them. That is all well and good, but “if he does not bind his daas and firmly fix his thought with strength and persistence”—here too, the Rebbe gives all three elements. “If he does not bind his daas” is the first: he does not concentrate. Then, “firmly fix his thought” is the second. He does not immerse himself in the subject. He does not connect himself to the thing he wants to invest himself in. And the third is “with persistence.” There has to be persistence—returning to the subject again and again without interruption,

12:40 Speaker 1 Because if he does not bind his daas, he will not produce genuine awe and love in his soul. Genuine awe and love will not come of it. The Rebbe does not say that no awe and love will come of it. Awe and love may come of it, but not genuine awe and love—only vain imaginings. Why is that? It is understandable. Since the person is not really in it, it does not become one with him. It does not become an eigene zach, something of his own. It is something added on to him. So he has nothing. He may feel love and awe for a moment, but that love and awe are not the person himself; they are something added on to him. So, in essence, he has no love and no awe. He has nothing. They are vain imaginings. But when it is not merely something he works on—when it comes through daas—it becomes part of him. Then the love and awe become part of his very being. The love is genuine love, and the awe is genuine awe. This explains why it must come specifically through the faculty of daas. Without it, they are vain imaginings. The Rebbe once related that he heard from Rabbi... This was already on 19 Kislev. The Rebbe related that one of the chassidim came to him with stories, and among them was one about Reb Michoel der Alter. Reb Michoel der Alter was a mashpia in Lubavitch. As is well known, in Lubavitch there were two Tanya classes. There was Reb Gronem’s Tanya class, and there was Reb Michoel der Alter’s Tanya class. Reb Gronem would teach Tanya in a certain way... you know. Reb Michoel taught Tanya more according to its plain meaning, but it was more heartfelt—truly, that made it moving and also funny. They say that all the boys would come to Reb Michoel’s classes, at any rate. So,

14:48 Speaker 1 What was the story? When Reb Michoel reached daas in chapter 3 of Tanya, he would tell them a story. He was teaching Tanya and wanted to explain to the students what daas is, so he would tell them this story. There is even a recording on which you can hear the Rebbe tell it. As you know, there used to be a yishuvnik—a Jew living in a village. Jews would live in remote villages where they had nothing Jewish around them. There might be just a few Jews in a village full of non-Jews; that was where they earned their living. To provide them with something, they had a melamed. They would hire a melamed to teach the Jews. He was also the rabbi, and he took care of all the things they needed. Now, this yishuvnik was such a simple man that he could not even read. In short, here is what happened. The melamed would read for him. When letters and other things arrived, he would read them. Once a letter arrived from the big city, and the yishuvnik could not read it. He asked the melamed to read it. The melamed took the letter and began reading. He read and read, and suddenly he looked up and saw that the yishuvnik had fainted. What had happened? The letter said that the yishuvnik’s father had passed away. The melamed had hardly noticed what he was reading. He read and translated it, but the yishuvnik heard that his father had passed away and fainted. The melamed was the one who read it, yet the yishuvnik fainted. How could that be? The answer is that, for the melamed, it was a fremde brivele, someone else’s letter. It was not his letter. For the yishuvnik, it

16:57 Speaker 1 was his own matter, so it affected him. For the melamed it was something foreign, so it did not affect him. At any rate, that is why he uses that expression. He would demand of the boys that when they learn Chassidus, they must not learn it like a fremde brivele, so that Chassidus is not like someone else’s letter—as though he is reading a letter about Chassidus, reading things that have nothing to do with him. Chassidus has to be something that touches him, something of his own. That is the meaning of daas: it has to become his own.

17:41 Speaker 3 Right now we are learning the Rosh on kol d’alim gavar, “whoever is stronger prevails.”

17:46 Speaker 1 Yes.

17:48 Speaker 3 There is no blessing.

17:49 Speaker 1 Ah, all right. In the Gemara class now, we are learning about kol d’alim gavar. What is the reasoning behind kol d’alim gavar? One explanation is that if he prevails, it shows that the matter concerns him. It shows that it really is his. That is connected with daas too. It is his, so of course he will make more of an effort and invest himself in it. His prevailing is evidence that it is his—that is one side of kol d’alim gavar. When it comes into practice, it takes work; it is a matter of daas, of becoming one with the person. Now, one could certainly ask: what does all this have to do with intellect? Seemingly, this is no longer an intellectual matter. It is something else, about how it relates to the person, and that seems incidental, not essential. Chochmah and binah are intellect: chochmah is the point of an idea, and binah is its explanation. Daas means that it becomes part of me. Fine, but what does that have to do with intellect? Why is it considered part of the mind? In short, without getting into that whole subject now—we will not get to it—it is just one more point. Yes, kol d’alim gavar. The reason he can connect the subject with his own essential self is that, in his understanding too, he grasps the essence of the idea. In other words, the intellect can connect with the person because he has grasped the essence of the matter. With chochmah and binah, he does not have the essence of the matter. It is the same point. When he has only the outward expression of the idea, it penetrates only the outward aspect of the person. With chochmah and binah, he does not have the essence of the matter, only its outward expression. Even chochmah, which is a point, is

19:52 Speaker 1 That, too, is only an extension. It is just one line, one aspect of the matter, one detail—not the essence of the matter. And binah, too, is only an extension. Since chochmah and binah are only extensions, they penetrate only the extension of a person’s soul, only its outer dimension. Daas, by contrast, means delving deeply and forming a firm, strong bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. In other words, a person delves into the very heart of the matter, into what it truly is. As a result, it penetrates the soul itself and becomes part of him. That is why daas is considered part of the intellect: this happens within the intellect, too, not only within the person more generally. There is a far deeper dimension here to intellect and daas. I’m giving this a little more attention in Chassidus, but only to make this one point. The maamarim discuss it at length in a number of places. There is also a well-known story connected with daas. Daas is one of the main things Chassidus introduced and demands. Not just chochmah and binah; there must also be daas. I once heard a chassidishe Jew say that in the yeshiva schedule there is a time to study Chassidus in the morning and another at night. There is a time for in-depth study and a time for broader study. He said that broader study is like chochmah: you don’t go into all the details or delve into every aspect. You hear what the maamar says and grasp its general idea. You make yourself receptive to what the teacher is teaching. You don’t understand

21:49 Speaker 1 every single detail. In-depth study is like binah: then you understand every detail of the maamar. But where is the time for daas? Ah, there needs to be a third time—for daas. Yet there is no scheduled time for that. Each person has to do it on his own: take a maamar and live with it. That is what it means to think about Chassidus before davening. Contemplation before davening is a matter of daas. You aren’t studying another maamar or gaining another intellectual insight. Preparing for davening means that, after you have studied and understood something, you bring it into your own life. Through daas, you enter into it, delve into it, and become absorbed in it. Then daas has its effect. That is daas. So if someone studies Chassidus in depth in the morning and studies it more broadly at night, but lacks contemplation before davening, he lacks daas—something essential is missing. Now, what was the story I wanted to tell about this? I heard it from Rabbi [unclear]. There was Reb Sholom [unclear]. Reb Sholom [unclear] was a great intellectual, the Rebbe’s brother, and a very learned man in general, particularly in Chassidus. He had a great deal of knowledge, and so on. For a time he lived in Leningrad, when the Frierdiker Rebbe was living there, and he would come to the Frierdiker Rebbe’s beis midrash to hear Chassidus. Once, the Frierdiker Rebbe delivered a very deep maamar on Purim, if I’m not mistaken. All the chassidim were beside themselves because of its profundity; they didn’t understand it. There was a commotion and some laughter. Reb Sholom [unclear] took it more lightly and wasn’t particularly excited by it all. After Shabbos, the Frierdiker Rebbe delivered another maamar, the maamar of

23:37 Speaker 1 [unclear], and everyone seemed pleased, as though they understood it. In short, this particular maamar had the opposite effect on Reb Sholom [unclear]. It stirred something entirely different in him, and he sat up all night crying. What was he crying about? There was a saying he kept repeating: [unclear]. I’m not quoting the exact wording, but the point is that when we study Chassidus, we can learn insight after insight, yet daas is the main thing. Without daas, something is missing. Chassidus demands daas: that what I learn become part of me. As we said earlier, it must not remain a matter of [unclear], something external and separate; it has to penetrate the person. The Alter Rebbe says: otherwise, what happens? It becomes vain imaginings. What does “vain imaginings” mean? It means it isn’t real. An imagining—why add “vain”? Why not just say “imaginings”? The Rebbe once said at a farbrengen that the very phrase “vain imaginings” implies that some imaginings are not vain—that some have a basis in truth. There was a story about someone who came to the Rebbe to ask for a blessing. It concerned a medical matter, and the Rebbe said that it seemed to him that if the person did such-and-such, he would recover. The Rebbe said that since the text speaks of “vain imaginings,” it follows that some imaginings are not vain. So when it seemed that way to him, it meant there was truth to it. The Rebbe later related that it was indeed an open miracle: the person followed the instruction and recovered. It was a story the Rebbe told at one of the farbrengens. [unclear]

25:35 Speaker 1 Vain imaginings. I don’t remember the exact words, but the idea is that an imagining has some connection to reality. A person might imagine something that bears some resemblance to the actual thing. It isn’t the thing itself, but it is related to it in some way. A Torah scholar once explained this by heart, but I’ve forgotten the example. It was something like looking at a stone and thinking it is a mountain. A vain imagining would be looking at a mountain and thinking it is a stick—something like that. In other words, a vain imagining is completely removed from reality. The Rebbe wants to emphasize just how unreal it is when daas is lacking.