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The article argues that although Lubavitcher bochurim may not know Tanya well, we are nevertheless “intimately familiar” with its ideas, since we were raised with the foundations of Chassidus. Therefore, we should relax. We know Tanya already, just not by chapter and verse.

The tone is refreshing, and the author’s honesty is appreciated. But the message is dangerously misguided.

What is the practical takeaway of this article? That we are fine, we already know the main ideas, and we do not need to worry. That might sound comforting, but comfort is not always truth. In Torah, the test of whether something is working is not how confident we feel, but what kind of people it produces. If bochurim today are struggling with davening, discipline, seriousness in learning, and basic spiritual stability, then it is hard to claim that “everything is already baked in.”

Even if the author personally did not experience a “paradigm shift” when learning Tanya, that proves nothing. Tanya is not meant to shock you with new information. It is meant to train a person and reshape him slowly through consistent learning and effort. A person can learn twenty-seven chapters and feel “I saw it all coming” and still not have begun to understand what Tanya is demanding of him.

Chassidus is not a collection of inspirational concepts that we casually pick up in school. It is a discipline. It requires depth, repetition, and real clarity. Knowing the general outline is not the same as understanding it properly, and certainly not the same as living by it. A person can be familiar with the language of Tanya and still have no real grasp of what it means to fight daily battles, to control emotions, and to translate ideals into action.

But there is an even bigger contradiction here.

The author himself recently wrote an entire article insisting that Lubavitcher bochurim must learn Nach more seriously. In that article, he did not say “Relax, we already know Nach.” He did not argue that growing up with the stories is enough. He argued, correctly, that without real learning and real knowledge, we are missing something essential.

So why does that logic apply to Nach, but suddenly not apply to Tanya?

If anything, the argument that “we already absorbed it through upbringing” could be said far more about Nach than about Tanya. Most bochurim learned Nach throughout their childhood. Many know the basic stories well. Yet the author recognized that this is not enough and demanded more. But when it comes to Tanya, the foundation of Chabad Chassidus, we are suddenly told not to worry because we are already “wired” correctly.

That is not consistency. That is complacency.
And beyond inconsistency, it is an attitude that is genuinely dangerous. It resembles the old approach of those who always pushed for “other” studies while quietly downplaying the necessity of learning Chassidus seriously. Not because Nach is unimportant, chas veshalom, but because when a person starts arguing that Chassidus is unnecessary since we already “know the basics,” he is not strengthening Chabad. He is weakening it.

And the comparison only gets worse when we think about what Tanya actually is. Nach is important, but it is often learned as knowledge. Tanya is learned to change the person. It is meant to build an entirely different way of thinking. It is deeper, more demanding, and requires far more effort to understand properly. If anything needs serious study and review, it is Tanya. If anything cannot be dismissed with “I know the ideas already,” it is Chassidus.

This is why the conclusion of the article is so dangerous. Saying “we know it in our bones” becomes an excuse not to learn. It turns Tanya into something for newcomers, while those raised Lubavitch are told that they already have it.

Many bochurim today are not just lacking proficiency in Tanya. Many do not even know the basics. They cannot explain the central categories, they cannot define the main terms, and they cannot describe the structure of the sefer. Telling them “you already know it” is not encouragement. It is permission to stay ignorant.

In an ironic way, the author’s own pen name becomes symbolic. The entire article reflects a kind of “poverty of understanding,” not poverty of money, but poverty of expectation. And it is strange that he calls himself “Pauper” when his whole point is that we are doing great, already have everything we need, and do not really need to push ourselves further. If we lower the standard, we will always feel fine. But we will not grow.

The Rebbe did not demand daily learning of Chassidus because he wanted bochurim to feel familiar with a few themes. He demanded it because without steady learning and review, without clarity, and without effort, the entire project collapses into slogans and culture.

And yes, it is sad that Lubavitcher bochurim often do not know Tanya well enough. Not because they need to impress someone by quoting chapter and verse, but because Tanya is meant to guide a person’s daily life. When a bochur does not truly know Tanya, it affects the way he thinks, the way he deals with challenges, the way he approaches tefillah, and the way he fights the constant struggles that every Jew faces.

If we want Lubavitch to be real, deep, and strong, then the answer is not to reassure ourselves that we “already know Tanya in our bones.” The answer is to learn it properly, clearly, thoroughly, with a chavrusa, with review, and with the seriousness it deserves.

Not because we are failing, but because that is what it means to be a chossid.