11. Those who are up to date with their daily study sessions1 as listed in HaYom Yom are far better prepared to receive the Torah than they would have been otherwise, for yesterday we completed Part One of Tanya.2
12. On Yud-Tes Kislev, 5663 (1902), in Lubavitch,3 when my father observed how the chassidim were eagerly pushing and shoving in order to be within earshot of what he had to say, he remarked: “It is apparent that people only want to hear [what is said], not to sense [it] spiritually.4 The distinction between the two may be perceived in the manner in which people express their yearning…”
My father then built on this theme by citing an incident recounted in the Gemara:5
R. Yehudah said: “When a woman is kneading dough [for matzos] she should use only mayim shelanu” [lit., ‘water that had spent the night,’ that is, water that was removed from its source the previous evening]. Rav Matnah duly repeated this teaching publicly in Paponia. The next day, the local people converged on him with their buckets and said, “Give us water!” [They had misunderstood him, thinking that when he said shelanu he meant that only ‘our water’ should be used!] So he explained: “When I said shelanu, I meant ‘water that had spent the night!’”
My father proceeded to expound this passage [on the non-literal level of interpretation known as derush]: “When the people thought that mayim shelanu meant ‘our water,’ they all arrived, but when they later discovered that mayim shelanu meant ‘water that had spent the night,’ no one arrived. Now, water is a classic idiom for Torah.6 When the people thought that ‘Torah teachings automatically become ours,’ without any prerequisite effort, by simply being heard, many arrived. However, when they learned that mayim shelanu meant ‘water that had spent the night [after having been separated from its flowing source],’ suggesting that they must first check the turbulent current of water [in their own lives],7 no suitable ‘buckets’ [i.e., human recipients] were at hand.”
[At this point the Rebbe Rayatz remarked that in mundane contexts, too, his father would never say about something that es iz nitto (“it doesn’t exist”), but es iz nit farahn (“it is not at hand”).]
13. Certain niggunim used to be known by names, such as the teshuvah niggun, the ahavas-re’im niggun, or the yechidus niggun (which was also known as the machol niggun).8 I once knew an old chassid from the days of Liadi, who knew the teshuvah niggun and the machol niggun.
14. It is explained in Chassidus that the ultimate quality of keilim (lit., “vessels”) is their ability to reveal light – and this they do by obscuring it. It is by fragmenting and limiting light that they reveal it. This is a paradox that is beyond the grasp of mortal mind.
[The sichah proceeds to give an intricate analysis of the stages in which “light” and “vessel” are analogous to rav vetalmid (mentor vis-à-vis disciple), or mashpia umekabel (source of influence vis-à-vis recipient). That discussion hinges on subtle distinctions between sets of mystical terms that defy translation.]
Our Sages teach that “tzaddikim are greater after their death than during their lifetimes.”9 What can this mean? After all, tzaddikim are alive even after their passing!10 The answer: Their superiority relates to the manner in which they pass from one state to the other.
15. The whole of the above discussion was an introduction to a teaching that I now want to share:
The Baal Shem is listening. All those present here ought to know that whenever the Baal Shem is mentioned, he hears what is said. For the last 183 years11 he has been in a process of refinement, being constantly elevated from strength to strength, so it is obvious that whenever he is mentioned, he hears what is said. By analogy, if someone does not hear what another does hear, the fault lies not in the recipient’s soul, but in the “vessel,” in his physical hearing capacity. From this it follows that the more refined is the vessel, the better does one hear.
