Chapter One

At the dawn of modernity, Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov (1698–1760) came to awaken the smoldering ashes of darkened hearts, to breathe life back into the dry bones of a nation weary from persecution, and to lift from the ground a people buckling under the burden of Torah observance they had carried for so many thousands of years. He came to show us once again that we are all capable of serving G‑d with love and joy, and that every activity of life is an opportunity for oneness with the divine.

He declared that the heartfelt prayers of a simple Jewish wagon-driver were treasured by G‑d at least as much as the Talmudic studies of the most brilliant scholars. He quoted the words of the Talmud, “G‑d desires the heart,”1Sanhedrin 106b. See Zohar II, 281b. meaning that whatever a Jew does – whether it be Talmud study, an act of charity, a prayer to G‑d – all had to be done with joy and with love.

The advent of the Baal Shem Tov was a watershed in Jewish history, a rebirth and revolution for the Jewish spirit. All those that he touched through his parables and teachings felt as though they had just crossed through the parting of the sea with Moses.

But he wrote no books. Neither did any of his disciples organize a cohesive whole from the teachings they had heard from his mouth.

That he left for Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, a disciple of a disciple. As the old order of Europe began to collapse and the status of the common man and woman started to rise, he wrote this book we call Tanya, a book not for the enlightened sage or the lofty soul, but for the rest of us.

Tanya was the first everyman’s guide to Chassidic thought and practice. Beforehand, a Jew would have to either receive these teachings orally or peer into one of the anthologies of cryptic aphorisms, anecdotes, and wisdom-teachings.2Notable amongst the early printed works compiling the oral teachings of the early Chassidic masters are: R. Yaakov Yosef of Polnoye, Ben Porat Yosef (Korets, Ukraine: 1781); R. Dov Ber of Mezritch (as recorded by his disciples), Magid D’Varav L’Yaakov (Korets, Ukraine: 1791); R. Yisrael ben Eliezer, the Baal Shem Tov (as recorded by his disciples), Tzava’at HaRivash (Zhovkva, Ukraine: 1793); Keter Shem Tov (Zhovkva, Ukraine: 1794–1795), 2 vols. From these you could gain some idea of what the Baal Shem Tov believed every Jew could and must achieve. But no one had attempted to map out the journey a Jew must take to get there.

This is the purpose of Tanya. In it, Rabbi Schneur Zalman shows you how to scale the mountains that loom along your path, sidestep the pitfalls scattered along the road, and, most importantly, keep your soul active, awake, inspired, and alert–because as long as your divine soul is awake, nothing could possibly stand in your way, not even your own inner beast. Every mitzvah you do will be a joyful mitzvah, and all of life a love affair between you and your Creator.

A likely starting point for such a book would be a description of this journey on which you are about to embark. Or perhaps some words of inspiration or purpose. Strangely, instead, the Tanya begins with a dissection of Talmudic dictums and terminology.

There is a reason for this, and it touches on a crucial distinction between the goals of the Tanya and those of other Jewish ethical works: Most other works construct their guidance upon well-established foundations. In the Tanya, Rabbi Schneur Zalman re-examines those foundations and provides an entirely new understanding of their meaning.

In the first chapter, he investigates the building blocks of Torah’s values and their very fiber, namely, the words it uses to describe the playing field. These are the goalposts that were set for you before you were born, a life-defining oath you took before your journey began: Be a tzadik. Don’t be a rasha.

But what is a tzadik? What is a rasha? Are these behavioral terms measured by deeds and misdeeds, or are they inner states of being? Do they lie on two ends of a one-dimensional pole, distributed along a spectrum, or perhaps imply a multidimensional constellation as befits the diversity of human life?

R. Schneur Zalman examines how these words are used in the contexts that matter. Halachah demands a clear definition of a rasha, since the testimony of a rasha is not accepted in court. But crucial, definitive passages from Zohar and Midrash illuminating the topic challenge these notions. The entire spectrum of Torah wisdom is invoked, from the most pragmatic to the most abstract and mysterious.

By the time we are halfway through the first chapter, the goalposts have been moved, the field expanded into a whole new realm, and all our preconceptions have been shattered. It becomes clear that these terms are structured around something far more complex and more essential to the human experience than our external behavior, something that cannot be explained without prefacing an analysis of the structure of the human psyche and its struggles.

From this point on, each chapter provides yet another re-examination of these core structures, reframing and restructuring them, presenting yet another revolution in our concept of life’s purpose and meaning, turning upside-down and inside-out basic, universal notions.

Many classic works of Jewish ethics that preceded the Tanya provide a good argument for shifting focus towards the inner world of the Jew.3See, for example, R. Bachye ibn Paquda, introduction to Chovot HaLevavot. The Tanya, on the other hand, forces us into a system-wide reset of the fundamentals: Who are we? What is Torah? What do we mean when we say “G‑d”? How do G‑d, the Torah, and the Jew fit together?

In this restructuring, the Tanya reaches to the core foundations of the Jew. Not just to your heart, but to the divine soul hidden deep within its recesses. It’s not your hands that must do the mitzvah. But neither is it your emotions, or your mind, for that matter. It has to be you, from your innermost.

You, and not your habits. You, and not your nurture. You, and not your nature. You, at your core-essence, a divine soul.