Today's Torah content was sponsored by someone who wishes to remain anonymous for someone else whom they wish to remain anonymous for an occasion that I'm told should not be mentioned. I would have found some sneaky way to show honor and gratitude to those involved, but I must respect true tznius when I see it.
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| Artwork: Musician, by Drew Tucker |
Musings on Unrecorded Shiurim
One of the many changes in my teaching norms this past year (2020-2021) was the fact that I recorded the vast majority of my shiurim and classes. Between September and June I recorded and uploaded 615 shiurim as videos and/or podcasts. By my estimation, somewhere between 100-200 of my other shiurim were not recorded. The decision not to record these was intentional. In some cases, it was because I didn’t want students to feel self-conscious when speaking up (e.g. in Q&A sessions, discussions about doubts or struggles, etc.). In other cases, it was because of the exploratory unscripted nature of that particular shiur.
Recording has become the norm, which is strange, considering that I never recorded any of my shiurim for my eleven years as a high school teacher! It’s gotten to the point where I now feel like it’s a pedagogical transgression to not record a shiur. Occasionally, I’ll give a shiur I choose not to record which turns out to be great, and afterwards I’ll be filled with regret. The most recent time this happened was on Tishah b’Av, when I gave shiur to the members of my family’s shul in Seattle. Judging by the response, it was an enjoyable and eye-opening shiur, but one which nobody will ever be able to hear again.
This morning, however, I read a poem by Rumi which altered my perspective.
Don’t worry about saving these songs!
And if one of our instruments breaks,
it doesn’t matter.
We have fallen into the place
where everything is music.
To my mind, one of the many purposes of a shiur is to produce a thing of beauty; therefore, when a good shiur goes unrecorded, this uniquely beautiful thing has been lost forever. My first thought upon realizing this was to recognize the absurdity of this feeling of loss. None of my shiurim were recorded until this year, and I didn’t feel sad! And before the invention of recording, none of the shiurim given by anyone was ever recorded! If I’m going to feel sad about an unrecorded shiur, my sadness should be for the millions of great shiurim that were lost throughout history. Moreover, in all likelihood, even the shiurim that are recorded will be lost forever at some point. So what is there to be upset about?
But setting these Koheles/Stoic thoughts aside, Rumi’s poem helped me recognize that I’ve begun to relate to my own shiurim in a new way. I’m beginning to realize that it’s not as much about the beauty of the product as it is about the beauty of the process. And the process doesn’t go away when the shiur ends.
I feel this most strongly in my Mishlei shiurim as compared to, say, my Sunday (i.e. community-wide) shiurim. This past Erev Yom ha’Kippurim I gave a Sunday shiur on the Middos ha’Rachamim. It was one of the best shiurim I had given to date, but due to a Zoom settings issue, the video wasn’t recorded. I felt crushed – so much so, that I decided to give the entire shiur over again that very afternoon, on my own, just to get the video. In contrast, if the same thing happened to a Mishlei shiur, I might be mildly annoyed, but I wouldn’t be upset. Why not? Because in Mishlei I’ve “fallen into the place where everything is music.” I am secure enough in my Mishlei teaching to perceive that the music inside of me is always playing.
This gives me hope. The more Torah I learn, the more music I hear. The more music I hear, the less sorrow I will feel when songs are lost and instruments are broken. One day, God willing, everything will be music.
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You need to get to the mental space of sand mandalas and Buddha Boards.
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