The Madness of Lishmah

Today’s Torah content is sponsored by Avygayl Zucker in honor of the 90th birthday of her grandfather, Yedidyah Halimi, whose dedication to Torah and mitzvos continues to be an inspiration. May Hashem grant him many more years of health and happiness!

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The Madness of Lishmah

From time to time, I am asked whether I have any interest in pursuing a PhD, an Ed. D, or any other professional achievements beyond simply teaching. The earliest conversation of this nature I can remember took place years ago, while I was still learning in yeshiva and hadn’t even started grad school yet. I was speaking with a highly successful professional who also happened to have the credentials of a professional philosopher. He asked me what I was up to, and I said, “I’m learning in yeshiva and earning my bachelor’s degree in psychology.” He asked, “To what end?” I said, “The only reason I’m getting a bachelor’s degree is so that I can apply to grad school.” He asked, “To what end?” I said, “I’m only getting a master’s degree in Jewish Education because I’ve been told it’s necessary to get a good job as a high school teacher. I just want to teach high school.” He asked, “To what end?” I repeated my answer: “I just want to teach high school.” “Nothing more?” “Nothing more.” He then shot me a look of horrified disbelief, which he followed with a rather audacious question. I don’t remember his words, but his sentiment was something like, “And you’re just going to let all of that intelligence go to waste?” Clearly, this man and I differed in our views about learning and teaching.

This weekend I read a poem by Rumi entitled, The Sheikh Who Played With Children, which reminded me of that conversation. The poem opens with a young seeker looking for wisdom: “I need to find a wise person. I have a problem.” A bystander says, “There’s no one with intelligence in our town except that man over there playing with the children, the one riding the stick-horse. He has a keen, fiery insight and vast dignity like the night sky, but he conceals it in the madness of child’s play.” (I was amused by the parallels to Rav Chaim Soloveitchik – a real-life genius who was also known for playing horsey with the local schoolchildren.) The young man approaches the sheikh and presses him for relationship advice, which he reluctantly gives. As the sheikh is about to gallop away, the seeker asks him about the life he has chosen: "What is this playing that you do? Why do you hide your intelligence so?" The sheikh responds:

"The people here want to put me in charge. They want me to be judge, magistrate, and interpreter of all the texts. The knowing I have doesn't want that. It wants to enjoy itself. I am a plantation of sugarcane, and at the same time I'm eating the sweetness."

Knowledge that is acquired is not like this. Those who have it worry if audiences like it or not. It's a bait for popularity. Disputational knowing wants customers. It has no soul. Robust and energetic before a responsive crowd, it slumps when no one is there. The only real customer is God.

Chew quietly your sweet sugarcane God-Love, and stay playfully childish.

Your face will turn rosy with illumination like the redbud flowers.

In his introduction to Perek Chelek the Rambam says about learning lishmah (lit. “for its own sake”): “ein tachlis ha’emes ela l’daas she’hu emes – the only purpose of the truth is to know that it is true.” Rambam mentions that most people will not be able to grasp the concept of lishmah. To them, learning is only a means to other ends. They cannot grasp what it means to seek knowledge for its own sake. They view any pursuit of something as an end in and of itself as foolish. They will never stop asking, “To what end?”

Perhaps this is why Rumi depicted the true sage in this manner. In the eyes of the world, those who learn lishmah appear as mad as a sheikh playing horsey.

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My Stubborn and Unpopular Educational Belief

This can be regarded as a follow-up to my educational philosophy statement. It’s the text of an email I recently sent to one of my former students in response to a question she asked about my educational philosophy. Consequently, there is some overlap with what I explicitly stated in my educational philosophy statement, but the main thing I wanted to do here was to articulate one of the premises of my educational philosophy. 

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My Stubborn and Unpopular Educational Belief

My stubborn and unpopular belief is that every student loves learning. Many of them either don't know it yet, or they've had the love of learning nearly snuffed out by their educational experiences.

The basis of my belief is my premise that every human being is created b'tzelem Elokim. According to my understanding, this means that every human being has the capacity for conceptual understanding and abstract thinking, as well as an innate drive to seek out knowledge of truth for its own sake. 

It is this fundamental belief about human nature which impels me, as a teacher of Torah, to treat every student with respect as a fellow truth-seeking mind, and to treat every question as a potential catalyst of tzelem Elokim development. Although I do care about teaching specific ideas with clarity, and hope that students remember what they learn in my classes, this isn't my main goal. My main goal is to awaken the latent tzelem Elokim in my students, and to equip them with the tools - in the realm of chochmah (intellect) and mussar (middos) - to live as a tzelem Elokim, the ultimate level of which is making good bechirah (free will) decisions on the basis of their tzelem Elokim, reaching ahavas Hashem (love of God) and yiras Hashem (fear of God) and learning lishmah (for its own sake). If a student walked away from my class with an enhanced love of learning, but without remembering a single idea I taught her, then I would still be happy and consider my job well done.

I referred to this belief of mine as "unpopular" because I do not think that this belief is shared by all teachers. Some profess it in speech, but don't believe it in their minds or in their hearts. Others don't even profess it. For example, there are teachers who believe that kids need to be instilled by their parents and teachers with a desire to learn, and that this desire is not natural. Others maintain that students need to be bribed - with praise, with grades, and with other "carrots" - or threatened with punishment in order to "get them to want to learn." Others take a religious angle, attempting to instill their students with a drive to learn as an act of avodas Hashem (divine service). Others believe that some kids do have a natural desire to learn, whereas others just "aren't cut out for learning." These teachers are usually quick to give up on those whom they perceive to be in the latter category.

I maintain that all of these teachers are wrong. I walk into my classroom - whether it's filled with old students or new students - with the assumption that EVERY student has an innate love of learning, an innate enjoyment of thinking, and an innate sense of curiosity. In many cases, these innate potentials are latent, or suppressed, or even crippled by years of educational abuse - but they're there. My job is to awaken the potential thinker in all students, to the extent that I can, and nurture them with good ideas, good thinking, and good, enjoyable learning. I refer to this belief of mine as "stubborn" because I am so convinced it is true that I will be willing to continue operating on this premise even when all evidence points to the fact that a given student is not interested in learning. 

This reminds me of a conversation I had a few years ago with someone I went to high school with, who is currently a rebbi at [insert name of well-known school]. He and I were talking about my educational approach, which he was familiar with from our teachers at [insert name of my high school alma mater]. I will never forget what he told me. He said, "Your whole approach of getting kids into learning by answering their questions and teaching them to think ... maybe that used to work, but it's an outdated approach. Kids these days aren't interested in thinking. They want a kesher (personal connection) with their rebbi. That's the best way to reach them. Not by answering questions." 

I couldn't believe how diametrically opposed our approaches were. This is a rebbi who uses methods like having kumzitzes (singing sessions) during shiur (Torah class), baking cookies for his talmidim (students), putting his arm on their shoulder, artificially attempting to rev up enthusiasm with phrases like, "Isn't this Toisfis geshmack?" and "We're going to learn some heilga TOIRAH!" Those methods in and of themselves aren't inherently problematic, but when "that outdated method" of thinking-based Torah is replaced with such devices, then that is worse than misguided; it's evil. 

I will not deny that this approach "works" for some kids. I say "works" (in quotation marks) because I maintain that this type of approach cannot serve as a foundation that's made to last. Like any emotionally-fueled approach, it will only "work" while the emotional mood is active and kept at a heightened level, and the nature of all emotional moods is that they cannot remain at a constant state forever. Someone who subscribes to such an approach will ride the high until it starts to wear off, and will then desperately try to chase after another high to keep his religiosity going. At "best," he'll spend his life repeatedly chasing such highs, like a drug addict. At worst, the high will wear off, and he'll drop his religiosity, or rebel against it. 

My approach is made to last because it is based on the higher part of our human nature as tzelem Elokim. Moreover, for those students of mine who are inducted into the world of Mishlei and Koheles, my approach is also based on the lower part of our human nature as pleasure-seeking pain-avoiding animals. By showing that Torah has a rational basis which satisfies the intellect, while simultaneously providing a way of life which results in maximum pleasure and minimum pain, I am appealing to the entire human being which, as Aristotle defined, is a "rational animal." Even if a student discontinues learning after high school, the part of the student which I awakened is their essence. I did not merely put them into a certain mood by singing a zemer or making them feel a kesher with their rebbi. I activated their humanity. 

I should mention that I am not trying to dismiss or downplay those whose attachment to Torah and Judaism is purely or largely emotional. That's a good thing, just as any she'lo lishmah is a good thing - at least, in potential. But I am intentionally objecting to Torah educators who believe that such an approach is an ideal, and that the "radical" approach of "appealing to the mind" is an "outdated" method. They are wrong, and their wrongness does harm.

And so I will continue to teach in accordance with my stubborn and unpopular belief, and let the results speak for themselves.  

My Educational Philosophy

The most useful assignment I had in graduate school was to write a one-page summary of my educational philosophy. The original version was written in the third person, but I rewrote it in the second person - addressed to my students - because this helps remind me that this isn't some abstract theoretical formulation, but an actual framework which ought to guide my day-to-day teaching.

At least once a year I revisit this educational philosophy statement, both in order to remind myself of my personal mission as a teacher, an to assess whether I still agree with my own educational philosophy, or whether I need to modify it. Here is the current incarnation. 

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Artwork: Talisman of Curiosity, by Lindesy Look

My Educational Philosophy

My role as a teacher is to facilitate bechirah ba'Tov – the capacity to make free-will decisions to live as a human being, in accordance with the will and wisdom of the Creator. [1] My goal is to guide you on our mutual journey towards yiras Hashem (self-governance by wisdom [2]) and ahavas Hashem (the yearning to know Hashem – the One Source of all wisdom and reality [3]). This journey will proceed in four stages, which are sequential by nature, but tend to overlap: 

(1) Reishis Daas (The Beginning of Knowledge): My first task as your teacher is to awaken you from the mindless slumber of the unexamined life and to bring you to a state of mindfulness, self-awareness, and the recognition that we live in a world governed by rational lawfulness. This is the reishis daas (beginning of knowledge [4]) – the foundation of real learning.  

(2) Chochmah (Wisdom): After you have been awakened, the true development of your tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect) can commence. I will train you in the art of precise, logical, analytical thinking; I will help you to acquire intellectual virtues and beneficial habits of mind; I will do everything in my ability to encourage your curiosity, creativity, and independent thinking; and I will strive to impart to you a clear knowledge and understanding of Torah, firmly grounded in the yesodei ha'Torah.  

(3) Mussar (Self-Governance): Since chochmah is only valuable insofar as it is real to our minds and emotions, and affects the way we live, I will do what I can to help you align and harmonize your emotions, your personality, and your decision-making with your chochmah.  

(4) Bechirah (Free Will): Lastly, I will do my best to provide you with the knowledge, resources, and support you need for a life of bechirah. However, I will leave that bechirah entirely up to you. I will never attempt to force you to feel, think, or live in any particular way. Instead, I will do what I can to help you to recognize and understand the choices that lie before you. I will do what I can to serve as role model of bechirah and I will try to provide you with the opportunity to learn from my own struggles to be bocher ba'Tov (to choose good). 

This is the current incarnation of my continually evolving educational philosophy. If I am shown that any element of my approach is not in the best interests of my students, I will retract and change my ways – for, as a teacher, I am bound by the physician's rule of primum non nocere: “first do no harm.” 

These are my terms and my values. I do not care to teach on any others. 

[1] This approach follows directly from the derech Hashem: "Behold, I have placed before you today the life and the Good, and the death and the bad ... Choose life, that you and your offspring may live" (Devarim 30:15,19). 

[2] Sefer Mishlei 15:33, as explained by Saadia Gaon 

[3] Rambam: Mishneh Torah, Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha'Torah 2:2 

[4] Sefer Mishlei 1:7

Parashas Balak: One Reason Why Women Should Learn Gemara

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Parashas Balak: One Reason Why Women Should Learn Gemara 

Two Like-minded Rebellions 

Zimri ben Salu, prince of the tribe of Shimon, staged a public rebellion against Moshe: 

Behold! A man from the house of Israel came and brought near a Midianite woman in the sight of Moshe and in the sight of the entire assembly of the Children of Israel, and they (i.e. Moshe and the Children of Israel) were crying at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting. (Bamidbar 25:6) 

Rashi, citing a midrash in Sanhedrin 82a, fills in the details of Zimri’s public demonstration: 

[Zimi] seized [Cozbi, the Midianite woman] by her hair and brought her before Moshe. “Son of Amram,” he exclaimed, “is this woman forbidden or permitted? And if you say, ‘she is forbidden,’ then who permitted you [to marry] Yisro’s daughter [Tzipora]?” 

This isn’t the first time that a leader of Israel challenged Moshe by attempting to undermine his halachic authority. The most famous instance was the rebellion of Korach. The midrash Tanchuma fills in the details of Korach’s confrontation with Moshe: 

What did [Korach] do? He arose and gathered 250 heads of courts … and he dressed them in tallisos (prayer shawls) made entirely of techeiles (i.e. the blue threads which it is a mitzvah to incorporate into the tzitzis – white fringes – on every four-cornered garment). They came and stood before Moshe. They said to him, “A tallis made entirely of techeiles – is it obligated in tzitzis or exempt?” He said to them, “Obligated.” They began to laugh at him, [saying,] “Is it possible that [in the case of] a tallis is made entirely out of another [color of] material, a single thread of techeiles exempts it, [but] this [tallis] which is made entirely of techeiles will not exempt itself?” 

There are clear parallels between the rebellions of Zimri and Korach. Both were driven by personal motives: Zimri by his lust for non-Jewish women, and Korach by his jealousy over the leadership positions held by his cousins, Moshe and Aharon. Both Zimi and Korach staged public acts of defiance which aimed to discredit Moshe in the eyes of the assembly. Both sought to undermine Moshe’s authority by showing that halacha is ridiculous, and should therefore not be taken seriously. 

Anyone who has even a basic knowledge of halacha can see through the childish arguments made by Zimri and Korach. Why was Tziporah permitted to Moshe? Because they got married before Matan Torah (the Giving of the Torah), when there was no halacha prohibiting a Jew from marrying a non-Jew! In fact, before Matan Torah, there were no “Jews” in a technical sense. Both Moshe and Tziporah were halachically non-Jewish, and both became Jews at the same time as the rest of the Children of Israel, after the Torah was given and the covenant was made. Why does a tallis made entirely of techeiles still require a thread of techeiles? Because the halacha states that every four-cornered garment, no matter what color, is obligated in tzitzis and techeiles! Although Korach might be able to argue that there is no philosophical purpose to the thread of techeiles on a tallis made entirely of techeiles, this would have no bearing on the halachic requirements of the mitzvah, since we never make halachic rulings on the basis of philosophical considerations. 

Rationalization of “Going Off the Derech” (i.e. Becoming Irreligious) 

Every year, usually at springtime, I am asked to give a presentation to the 12th graders about how to retain and continue to develop their Orthodox Jewish identity after graduation, when they venture out into the secular world as young adults. One of the main points I make and stress is that the human being cannot tolerate cognitive dissonance for an extended period of time. If there is a contradiction between one’s beliefs, ideas, and values on the one hand, and one’s desires, actions, and habits on the other, the latter will tend to prevail. The most common means by which this will occur is theological rationalization. 

In other words, a person will not, in the long-run, be able to say, “I believe that the Torah is true and halacha is binding, but I don’t keep such-and-such halacha because I can’t help myself.” The cognitive dissonance and negative self-image will be too much for the psyche to bear for any prolonged period of time. Instead, she will rationalize her violation of halacha, coming up with spurious reasons as to why the halacha doesn’t make sense, or why it shouldn’t apply in her situation, or – in the most severe cases – why halacha as a whole is irrational. The individual will convince herself that her abandonment of halacha stems from her arguments, but in reality, the reverse is true: first she made the decision to abandon halacha, and only afterwards did she come up with arguments to retroactively justify her behavior. 

My decade of experience as a high school teacher, combined with my exposure to hundreds of “off-the-derech Jews” on the internet and social media platforms, have shown me countless examples of how flimsy these types of theological rationalizations tend to be. Every day online I encounter lapsed Jews making laughably fallacious and counterfactual lines of reasoning in support of their irreligious life choices. They think that their Clever, Enlightened, Superior minds have discovered a Truth which their religious brethren are too Dull-witted or Brainwashed to have spotted. They do not realize how ignorant, simplistic, and baseless their arguments are. 

[To be clear: I am not saying that anyone who goes off the derech is ipso facto a self-deceiving ignoramus whose arguments are all straw-men. I have encountered many Jews who do have knowledge of Judaism but have rejected it because of powerful questions and substantial philosophical arguments to which they could not find satisfactory answers. It just so happens that such individuals are rare, and tend not to be as vocal and militantly anti-religious on the internet. I also know Jews who went off the derech for personal reasons (e.g. tragedy, abuse, familial or martial relationship problems, etc.), and while these Jews may also engage in anti-religious rhetoric without substance, their situation ought to be viewed differently.] 

Rav Soloveitchik on Women Learning Gemara 

I will preface this next section with a disclaimer. The topic of whether women may or should learn Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah) and Gemara (Talmud) is vast, nuanced, and fraught with difficulty. We will not even attempt to present an in-depth analysis or comprehensive overview of the topic in this article. Instead, the scope of this topic will be limited to a single statement of a single rabbinic authority: that of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (a.k.a. “The Rav”). 

On May 27, 1953, the Rav wrote a letter to Rabbi Leonard Rosenfeld on the topic of teaching Torah she’baal Peh to girls in a coeducational Jewish day school. Here is the letter in its entirety; the underlined portions do not appear in the original, and were added by me for emphasis: 

Dear Rabbi Rosenfeld,

Please accept my apologies for not answering your letters sooner. The delay was due to my overcrowded schedule. As to your question with regard to a curriculum in a coeducational school, I expressed my opinion to you long ago that it would be a very regrettable oversight on our part if we were to arrange separate Hebrew courses for girls. Not only is the teaching of Torah she’baal Peh to girls permissible, but it is nowadays an absolute imperative. This policy of discrimination between the sexes as to subject manner and method of instruction which is still advocated by certain groups within our Orthodox community has contributed greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism. Boys and girls alike should be introduced into the inner halls of Torah she’baal Peh.

I hope to prepare in the near future a halakhic brief on the problem which will exhaust the various aspects of the same. In the meantime I heartily endorse a uniform program for the entire student body.

With kindest personal regards, I remain
Sincerely yours,
Joseph Soloveitchik 

The Rav is unequivocal in his endorsement of women learning Torah she’baal Peh in exactly the same manner as men. Practically speaking, this means that girls should study Gemara and be trained in the rigors of Talmudic analysis to the same extent and following the same methods and curriculum as boys. Although the Rav was addressing a coed school, there is no reason to believe that he would hold differently about an all-girls school or seminary. 

The only part of the Rav’s letter which is unclear is his statement that “This policy of discrimination between the sexes as to subject manner and method of instruction … has contributed greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism.” The question is: How so? How does teaching women Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud prevent this deterioration? 

Halachic Thinking and Assimilation 

I don’t know how the Rav would answer this question, but I do have my own answer. The failure to train Jewish girls and women in the highest levels of Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud renders them susceptible to the specious arguments used to denigrate and delegitimize halacha. 

A well-trained yeshiva bochur (a young man engaged in post-high school Torah study in a rabbinic seminary) should be able to spot the flaws in anti-halachic sophistry with relative ease, due to the depth and breadth of his halachic knowledge, as well as the critical thinking skills he has acquired from his Talmudic training. But what about bas Yisrael (Jewish woman) who is only familiar with halacha on a simple level? How would she respond to an accusation of halachic hypocrisy, like Zimri’s, or a pseudo-halachic polemical protest, like Korach’s? Ask her a question about a detail of halachic practice and she may know the answer, but present a critique of Torah as a system which is rhetorically engineered to make halacha seem foolish, outdated, or unreasonable, and what is she supposed to do? How can we expect her to know what to say or think in response? 

This, I believe, is why neglecting to teach young women Torah she’baal Peh and Talmud “contributes greatly to the deterioration and downfall of traditional Judaism.” Women who do not have a firm grasp of the inner-workings of halacha and the nature of halachic thinking are particularly vulnerable to the false claims about halacha and false critiques of its validity. 

If this was true in the 1950’s when the Rav penned his letter to Rabbi Rosenfeld, then it is even truer in today’s world. Almost every Modern Orthodox girl has unfettered access (via the internet and social media) to all of the anti-halacha arguments under the sun. Teenagers and young adults are already at an age that is prone to rebellion and experimentation. Combine this with the dwindling numbers of religious people in general, and the increase in anti-religious sentiment on college campuses – both of which will make her a minority amid a hostile majority – and how can we expect her religiosity to survive intact through the crucible of her college years? Even if she remains religious, her internal conviction in Judaism will undoubtedly suffer due to the questions and doubts that have been raised and gone unanswered. 

This is one of the main reasons why I believe that girls should learn Gemara just like boys. This is also one of the long-term objectives in my own introductory Gemara course. Many of the girls in my class have never learned Gemara before, so the responsibility lies with me to give them a strong foundation. I don’t particularly care whether my female students retain knowledge of the details of what we learn. If they graduate from high school with enough Talmudic experience to appreciate halacha as a system, to be able to differentiate between the taamei ha’mitzvos (philosophical reasons for the commandments) and the technical halacha itself, and to have begun to realize that halacha operates based on its own internal principles and halachic reasoning rather than common sense, then I have done my job. 

And if I have done my job successfully, then perhaps I will have helped stem the tide of assimilation, thereby giving the next generation of Orthodox Jews a better chance to survive and thrive in Torah.

Maurice Sendak: on Death, Life, and Speaking Truth to Children

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Maurice Sendak: on Death, Life, and Speaking Truth to Children

Maurice Sendak, the children's writer and illustrator who authored Where the Wild Things Are (1963), died on May 8th 2012 at the age of 83. In the flurry of tributes posted online in the wake of his passing I stumbled upon a clip entitled Sendak On Death (And Life), from Spike Jonze's documentary, Tell Them Anything You Want: A Maurice Sendak Documentary (2009). The title intrigued me.

I am a firm believer in the notion that the thoughts and feelings of a man approaching death are worthy of consideration. It doesn't matter whether you agree with his beliefs, his philosophy, or his life choices. Man, when faced with his own mortality, can often apprehend reality with a clarity that the rest of us cannot.

Here is the clip, followed by a transcript of the part which deals with the topics in the title of this post.

I did some very good books, which mostly is an isolationist form of life - doing books, doing pictures - and is the only true happiness I've ever, ever enjoyed in my life. It's sublime! To just to go into another room and make pictures. It's magic time, where all your weaknesses of character and all blemishes of personality and whatever else torments you, fades away. It just doesn't matter. 

You're doing the one thing you want to do and you do it well and you know you do it well ...

... and you're happy!

The whole promise is to do the work. Sitting down at the drawing table, turning on the radio. I think, "What a transcendent life this is!" that I'm doing everything I want to do. 

And at that moment I feel that I'm a lucky man. 

I'm trying very hard to concentrate on what is here - what I can see, what I can smell, what I can feel - making that the important business of life. Just looking out the window and the colors that I see, reading Charles Dickens at night for an hour - little rituals I have - I'm listening to Mozart. 

I'm learning how not to take myself so seriously. That what I'm working on, what I'd like to work on - that it's not earthshakingly important anymore. I'm not earthshakingly important. 

So, what am I saying? ... I'm just clearing the decks for a simple death. 

You're done with your work. 

You're done with your life. 

And your life was your work. 

I think what I've offered was different. But not because I drew better than anybody or wrote better than anybody, but because I was more honest than anybody. And in the discussion of children and the lives of children and the fantasies of children and the language of children - I said anything I wanted. 

Because I don't believe in children, 

I don't believe in childhood, 

I don't believe that this demarcation - like, "You mustn't tell them that!" "You must tell them that!" - you tell them anything you want. Just tell them if it's true. 

If it's true, you tell them.

I have adult thoughts in my head - experiences - but I'm never going to talk about them, 

I'm never going to write about them. 

Why is my needle stuck in childhood? 

I don't know why. 

I don't know why. 

I guess that's where my heart is.

Several points in this excerpt resonated with me. 

First of all, I have found my life's calling - not as a children's author, but as a high school teacher, which is not entirely unrelated. Like Sendak, I am extremely grateful that my life's work brings me daily happiness, and enables me to live "a transcendent life." I am also grateful that my passion is in an enterprise that actually has real meaning and benefit. 

Secondly, I am slowly learning not to take myself so seriously, and the fact that I work with teenagers definitely helps with that. That, combined with the wisdom and maturity that comes from life experience and with age.

Lastly is the fact that I, too, am frustrated by society's insistence on restricting children's pursuit of truth based solely on fact that they are in the category of "children." I don't know if I would go so far as Sendak to say "I don't believe in children," but I definitely think that students suffer from being addressed by teachers as children. If we want children to think and act maturely as adults, then we need to start treating them that way - at least by the time they reach high school. 

Unlike so many of my fellow Jews, I believe that only get one life, and I thank God that this is the one I have been given.

The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

This post is predicated on a basic familiarity with the two levels of doing a mitzvah or learning Torah: lishmah (for its own sake) and she'lo lishmah (not for its own sake). The Rambam defines these two terms in his introduction to Perek Chelek. If you haven't yet read his discourse on this topic, or if you need a refresher, I advise you to check out the translation I posted here before reading this post.

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Artwork: Seedtime, by Rebecca Guay
(I used this here because it's how I picture "the pampered women of Machoza")

The Limits of she'Lo Lishmah

The Question

The highest level of learning Torah and doing mitzvos is lishmah. Nevertheless, Chazal urged us to be involved in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah. Why? Because "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah - from she'lo lishmah, one will come to lishmah." [1]

A couple of years ago my chavrusa and I took up the question: What are the limits of she'lo lishmah? How far removed from "the ideal motives" for Torah and mitzvos would still be considered she'lo lishmah such that the aforementioned statement of Chazal would apply?

The examples of she'lo lishmah in the Rambam's parable are fairly straightforward:

• learning Torah in order to get a piece of candy or a fig
• learning Torah in order to get a fancy pair of shoes or item of clothing
• learning Torah in order to get money
• learning Torah in order to become a rabbi who receives honor from other people

In all four cases the student is learning Torah in order to obtain some good other than the learning itself. Presumably, the child is aware that he is learning Torah, and that learning Torah is a mitzvah, but he is simply not motivated by the learning itself. It's easy to see how this type of she'lo lishmah might naturally lead to lishmah, especially when it comes to learning. Doing mitzvos she'lo lishmah is bit trickier, but it's still conceivable that a mitzvah she'lo lishmah would lend itself to development towards lishmah.

But how far can this principle be extended? Compare the Rambam's examples with the following questionable cases:

• Case #1: a person is forced to do a mitzvah without any awareness at all about the nature of what he is doing. For example, imagine an immigrant from a repressive regime who is forced by a Chabad emissary to put on tefillin, and has no idea what's going on because he doesn't speak English and he's neither seen nor heard of tefillin in his life. [Note: for the purposes of this example, and this post, I am assuming we hold "mitzvos ein tzrichos kavanah" ("mitzvos do not require intention") from a halachic standpoint.]
• Case #2: a person has a completely warped notion of the nature of what he's doing. For instance, imagine a person who shakes a lulav believing that he's drawing upon spiritual earth-energy in order to "realign his chakras," or a person who avoids eating non-kosher food because he thinks it will literally kill him. These individuals definitely fulfill their halachic obligations, but will they naturally come to lishmah in the same way as the child in the Rambam's example?
• Case #3: a person does a mitzvah in an entirely incidental or accidental manner, with absolutely no intention for the mitzvah at all. For example, it would be entirely possible for someone who is allergic to gluten to neither eat nor own chametz on Pesach by default, without taking any special effort to do so for mitzvah reasons. It's even easier to observe mishpatim (i.e. mitzvos whose reasons are obvious) out of sheer common sense, without any mitzvah motives whatsoever. Building a maakeh (parapet) around one's roof so people don't fall and injure themselves, helping an elderly person cross the street, using accurate weights and measures, refraining from murder, kidnapping, and lying under oath - there are dozens of mitzvos that people keep every day without any awareness that they're observing halacha. 

Are these cases still within the scope of "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah" or would we say that although these individuals might fulfill a technical halachic obligation, they would not fall within this category? 

The Indolent Women of Machoza

In searching for an answer to this question, my chavrusa and I stumbled upon an important Gemara which sheds a great deal of light on the topic. The Mishnah in Pesachim 4:1 (50a) states:

In a place where [the people] were accustomed to work on Erev Pesach (Passover eve) until midday, one may do so. In a place where the people were accustomed not to work, one may not do so. 

The Gemara (50b) discusses the parallel halachos (laws) which pertain to the eves and conclusions of other special days:

One who performs labor on Erev Shabbos (Sabbath eve) or Erev Yom Tov from minchah-time onward, and on Motzai Shabbos (the conclusion of the Sabbath), on Motzai Yom Tov, or Motzai Yom ha'Kippurim ... [such a person] will never see a sign of blessing [from this work].

The Gemara then classifies the types of people who receive this aforementioned blessing and those who don't:

The Sages taught [in a Tosefta]: "There is one who is diligent and rewarded; and there is one who is diligent but suffers a loss; there is one who is indolent but rewarded; and there is one who is indolent and suffers a loss. [How so?] 'Diligent and rewarded' is one who works the entire week and does not work on Erev Shabbos. 'Diligent but suffers a loss' is one who works all week and works on Erev Shabbos. 'Indolent but rewarded' is one who does not work the entire week and does not work on Erev Shabbos. 'Indolent and suffers a loss' is one who does not work the entire week and works on Erev Shabbos." 

Rava said: "With regard to those women of Machoza, even though they do not work on Erev Shabbos, it is due to excessive pampering, because they don't work on any other day [either]. Even so, we call them 'indolent but rewarded.'"

Rava brought up a contradiction: "It is written: 'for Your mercy is great unto the heavens' (Tehilim 57:11) and it is [also] written: 'for Your mercy is great above the heavens' (ibid. 108:5). How [can this contradiction be resolved]? [The pasuk which describes His mercy as above the heavens refers to a case where] one does [a mitzvah] lishmah, [whereas the pasuk which describes His mercy as merely reaching the heavens refers to a case where] one does [a mitzvah] she'lo lishmah."  

[This teaching of Rava] accords with what Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: "a person should always engage in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah."

The salient point here is Rava's statement about the women of Machoza. These "pampered" women never work, and yet the Gemara places them in the category of "indolent but rewarded" for their abstaining from work on Erev Shabbos.

One might read Rava's remark about the women of Machoza as pertaining solely to the passage that preceded it, regarding the fourfold classification of people who are diligent, indolent, rewarded, and who suffer a loss. Rashi, however, connects the women of Machoza case to the statements that follow, regarding the virtue of learning and doing mitzvos she'lo lishmah. Rashi explains:

"indolent but rewarded" is one who didn't work all week and also [didn't work] on Erev Shabbos - and even though they didn't intend [to abstain from work] for the sake of a mitzvah, it is nevertheless a mitzvah she'lo lishmah, as they say later on: "a person should always be involved in a mitzvah even she'lo lishmah."

The Ran echoes this reading of the Gemara in his comments on Rava's explanation of the contradiction in Tehilim:

If you'll pose a challenge from Rav Yehuda himself who said in the Perek Haya Korei (Berachos 17a) about anyone who engages [in a mitzvah] she'lo lishmah that it's better if they were never created. [How can we reconcile Rav Yehuda's condemnation of she'lo lishmah with Rava's approbation of she'lo lishmah in our Gemara?] 

The answer is: there are many types of she'lo lishmah. [Rav Yehuda's statement condemning she'lo lishmah] pertains to those who engage in Torah in order to be contrarian and to provoke: since his intention is for an aveirah (transgression), then it would be better if he were never created. [2] [In contrast, Rava's statement in our Gemara] is dealing with a case in which his intention is neither for a sinful matter nor for a mitzvah, and instead is like that of the indolent person who is rewarded [and thus, like the women of Machoza]. 

According to Rashi and the Ran, the "indolent but rewarded" individuals who abstain from working on Erev Shabbos have absolutely no intention whatsoever to fulfill any mitzvah, but because their laziness just "happens" to result in the observance of a mitzvah [3], then they are rewarded for their she'lo lishmah observance. In other words, the women of Machoza fit perfectly into the Case #3 scenario mentioned above: their actions incidentally align with a mitzvah, even though their motives have nothing to do with Torah whatsoever. Rashi even goes so far as to explicitly state that their she'lo lishmah observance will (or at least can) lead to lishmah.

The question is: How can this be?! Is it really true that these lazy women of Machoza will eventually come around to refraining from work on Erev Shabbos lishmah simply because they kept this mitzvah by default, due to their pampered lifestyle?

Consider, as a sort of thought experiment, two groups within the women of Machoza: those who are Jewish and those who are non-Jewish. The women in both groups are indolent and pampered. Neither group does any work during any day of the week. They just sit there, lounging around, drinking their "Machoza Mimosas" [4] and gossiping about their fancy jewelry and fancy drinking-water. And yet, the Jewish women of Machoza are rewarded for their indolence simply because their lazy behavior coincides with a halacha. How does that make any sense?

A Possible Answer

If memory serves, my chavrusa and I initially arrived at the conclusion that the Gemara must have been assuming that the women of Machoza had at least some awareness of the fact that their abstention from work qualified as a mitzvah. Otherwise, how would it be possible to say that they'd be rewarded for their behavior?

When I revisited the question this year while writing this blog post I realized that our assumption wasn't warranted. We posited this because we felt compelled to by the strength of the question, but a straightforward reading of the Gemara wouldn't naturally lead to this conclusion.

Instead, I would like to answer as follows: even the she'lo lishmah behavior of the women of Machoza can lead to lishmah insofar as it contributes to the observance of that mitzvah as a behavioral habit. Allow me to explain.

My answer was inspired by the Rambam's approach to character development, as presented in Hilchos Deos (Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada). A full treatment of the Rambam's view is beyond the scope of this blog post. Here is the particular halacha I had in mind:

1:7 - How does a person habituate himself to these character traits until they are firmly established in him? He should do the actions which correspond to these “middle character traits” again, and again, and again, and repeat them constantly until these actions become easy for him without there being any burden in them, and they become firmly established in his soul. 

For example, if a person wants to develop the trait of generosity, he should force himself to repeatedly do acts of generosity (e.g. giving tzedakah to the poor, volunteering at a soup kitchen, donating clothing to those in need) until these actions become second-nature to the point where he can do them naturally, without experiencing any emotional conflict or resistance.

Does the Rambam hold that this is the highest level of ethical development? Not at all. Someone who gives tzedakah lishmah is certainly superior to one who gives tzedakah she'lo lishmah, even though acts of generosity come "easily" for both of them. But from a strictly behavioral standpoint, both of them will be able to do acts of generosity in a manner which is "easy" for them, "without any burden."

This point is even clearer when we consider ethical development in children. Let's use the example of the virtue of gratitude. Imagine two children: one who was raised to say, "Thank you" as soon as she learns to speak, and another who wasn't. At such a young age, it is doubtful whether these children are even capable of understanding what gratitude is. And yet, when these children mature to the point where they can understand what it means to be grateful, which one will have an easier time doing actions which express gratitude? Clearly the child who has already acquired the behavioral habit of demonstrating gratitude by saying, "Thank you." The other child will have to face an uphill battle to become a grateful person even if she intellectually recognizes the value in acquiring that particular virtue.

It is on this basis that I would like to answer the question on our Gemara. The reason why even the women of Machoza's low level she'lo lishmah abstention from work can still be characterized as leading to lishmah is because it contributes to their potential for a lishmah observance. Even though their motives and intentions have nothing to do with the mitzvah, they are nevertheless practicing behavior which is in line with the mitzvah, thereby paving the way for a lishmah observance of the mitzvah by making that observance easier to keep.

Consider another thought experiment: an "indolent but rewarded" woman of Machoza who doesn't work during the week and doesn't work on Erev Shabbos, and a "diligent but suffers a loss" woman of Manhattan who works during the week and works on Erev Shabbos. Imagine that both women decide to become more religious and wish to take on the meritorious practice of not working on Erev Shabbos. Which woman will have an easier time doing so? Clearly the woman of Machoza! Her habit of not working on Erev Shabbos will be a boon for her, even though this habit was initially established out of laziness, and had nothing to do with Torah and mitzvos!

If I am correct, then we need to tweak our understanding of "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah." This statement does not mean that doing a mitzvah she'lo lishmah will naturally develop a person towards doing that mitzvah lishmah. Rather, it can also mean that doing a mitzvah she'lo lishmah will facilitate the move to lishmah in any way - whether by contributing to a person's development in an active way, or by removing an impediment to their lishmah development.

Thus, the immigrant who is forced to put on tefillin without any knowledge of what he's doing, the lulav-shaking chakra realigner, the person who is allergic to gluten - all three types of cases fit into the category of mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah, insofar as they pave the way for lishmah by removing the behavioral impediments to a lishmah observance of the mitzvah. I like to imagine that the Ran had this in mind when he waved his hand, shook his head, and answered his own question by saying, "Don't worry: there are many types of she'lo lishmah."

Conclusion

I'm sure there is more to explore on this topic, but I think that this idea stands on its own. The take-away lesson is this: don't underestimate the impact of behavioral conditioning in the pursuit of ethical and intellectual perfection. It would be very easy to look down on the women of Machoza - or on the immigrant being wrapped in tefillin [5] without knowledge, or on the lulav-waving chakra charger, or the gluten-free chametz avoider - but according to our Gemara, even these low-level she'lo lishmah types of mitzvah observance lead to lishmah, and should be encouraged and looked upon favorably. Similarly, one should never dismiss or discourage anyone from keeping halacha even if their motives have nothing to do with halacha. Lastly, one should not view this type of she'lo lishmah observance as beneath our own standards, and use this reasoning to rationalize not keeping a particular halacha. No matter how far removed from the Torah's ideals we are, we should always involve ourselves in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah.

When we bear these points in mind, having mercy on the human condition and recognizing how every step forward is significant, no matter how small, we are aligning our own perspective with that of Hashem, "[Whose] mercy is great unto the heavens."

[1] Sanhedrin 105b, Pesachim 50b, Nazir 23b, Sotah 22b and 47a, Horiyos 10b, Erachin 16b - and probably more
[2] An analysis of what it means to learn “lekanter” and why this is an exception to the rule is beyond the scope of this blog post. I have an explanation, but including it would distract us from the topic at hand.[3] Ordinarily I am reticent to broadly apply the term "mitzvah" to all behavior that is sanctioned or encouraged by halacha, and instead prefer to treat it as a technical term referring to a specific commandment from the Torah or the Rabbis. I've decided to make an exception in this case, since the Gemara itself uses the term "mitzvah" to describe what is actually just a meritorious custom, rather than an actual Biblical or Rabbinic commandment.
[4] Let me be the first to reveal the official "Machoza Mimosa" recipe: In a champagne flute, combine 1/3 cup chilled sparkling wine, 1/3 cup chilled orange juice, 1 tablespoon of honey and 1 tablespoon of absinthe, as a kiyum in: "For the lips of a strange woman drop honey, and her mouth is smoother than oil - but her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword" (Mishlei 5:3-4). Yeah, I know that our Gemara doesn't condemn the women of Machoza, and not even Shlomo ha'Melech would consider them to fall into the category of "the strange woman" of Mishlei, but I still think that their "end is bitter as wormwood."
[5] "force-phylacteried" would be the appropriate verb

Rambam: On Lishmah and she'Lo Lishmah

I started writing a blog post about doing mitzvos lishmah (for their own sake) and she'lo lishmah (not for their own sake), and was shocked to discover that I haven't yet posted a translation of the Rambam's discourse on this topic anywhere on my blog. I decided to rectify that by posting my translation without any commentary, since it is something that every student of Torah should read. The paragraph divisions are my own.

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Rambam: On Lishmah and she'Lo Lishmah

You, the thoughtful reader, should contemplate the following parable which I will present to you, and then pay attention to understand my words on this entire topic. 

A young child is brought to an educator to learn Torah. This is a tremendous good for him, because of the perfection he will attain from it. However, due to his young age and the deficiency of his mind, he will not understand the value of that good, nor [will he understand the value] of the perfection he will gain. Thus, necessity compels the teacher – who is more perfected than the child – to motivate him to learn by using something which is beloved to him, because of his young age. [The teacher] will say, “Learn and I will give you nuts and figs!” or “I will give you a piece of candy!” Then the student will learn and strive not for the learning itself, whose value he doesn’t know, but in order to attain that piece of food. The eating of that food is more important to him and more beneficial [from his perspective], without a doubt. Therefore, he will consider the learning to be a toil and exertion which he must work at in order to attain that desirable objective – that single nut or piece of candy. 

When the child grows and his intellect is strengthened, and that thing which he used to value becomes less important in his eyes and he goes go on to value other things, we motivate him with that which is even more important in his eyes. The teacher will say to him, “Learn and I will buy these fancy shoes for you” or “an article of clothing with such-and-such an appearance.” Then he will strive not for the learning itself, but for that article of clothing, because that article of clothing will be more valuable to him than the learning, and it will be the objective of the learning. 

When his mind becomes more perfected and that thing becomes less significant in his eyes, we motivate him with something greater than this. His teacher will say to him, “Learn this section or this chapter and I will give you a dollar or two.” Then he will learn and strive in order to earn that money, and the earning of that money will be more significant to him than the learning, for the purpose of learning – to him, at this time – is the earning of the money that was promised to him. 

When he becomes more cognizant and this thing [he once valued] becomes less significant in his eyes and he knows that it is a thing of inferior worth, we motivate him with something that is more important to him. We say to him, “Learn in order to become a rabbi and a judge. People will honor you; they will stand up in your presence; your words will be established and your reputation will grow during your lifetime and after your death, like so-and-so.” Then he will learn and strive in order to achieve that level of distinction, and the ultimate objective – to him – will be that people should honor him, exalt him, and praise him. 

All of this is despicable – yet, it is necessary for us, due to the deficiency of the human psyche (or mind), which causes him to make the purpose of learning something other than the learning [itself]. He will say, “Why should I learn this?” – only in order to achieve something which, in truth, is but a fantasy. This is what the Sages referred to as she’lo lishmah (lit. “not for its own sake”). In other words, he fulfills the mitzvos and does them and learns and strives not for the sake of that thing itself, but for the sake of something else. The Sages (peace be upon them) cautioned us, saying, “Do not make them (i.e. matters of Torah) a crown through which to glorify yourself, nor an axe to chop with” (Avos 4:5). They are alluding to that which I have explained to you, that one should not make the purpose of his learning that people should honor him, nor the acquisition of wealth, nor should he make Hashem’s Torah into a livelihood. 

The purpose of his learning should be nothing other than knowledge itself; likewise, the only purpose of truth is to know that it is true; the mitzvos are true, and therefore, their purpose is their fulfillment. It is prohibited for a perfected person to say, “If I do these good things and if I refrain from these bad things which Hashem prohibited to me, what will be my reward?” For this is like what the child says: “If I learn, what will I be given?” And they say to him, “Such-and-such a thing,” for when we see the deficiency of his mind – that he doesn’t understand the value of this thing, and he seeks out a purpose for the purpose – we answer him in accordance with the degree of his foolishness, [as it is stated,] “answer a fool according to his foolishness” (Mishlei 26:5). 

The Sages already warned us about this – namely, that a person shouldn’t make the purpose of his avodah (service) and his fulfillment of the mitzvos any of these things – in the statement of the pious man who grasped the truth, Antignos of Socho: “Do not be like servants who serve the master with the intention of receiving a prize; rather, be like servants who serve their master with the intention not to receive a prize.” By this they mean that one should believe in truth for the sake of the truth itself. This is what [the Sages] referred to as “oved me’ahavah” (“one who serves out of love”). They said, “he desires His mitzvos exceedingly” (Tehilim 112:1). R’ Elazar said: “His mitzvos” and not “the reward of His mitzvos” (Avodah Zarah 19a). How great is this proof and how clear it is, for this is a clear proof to our preceding words! Even greater than this is the statement of the Sages in Sifrei: “Perhaps a person will say, ‘I will learn Torah so that I can become rich’ or ‘so that I will be called “rebbi”’ or ‘so that I will receive reward in the World to Come’ – but the pasuk says, ‘to love Hashem, your God’; everything you do, you should only do out of love” (Eikev: Devarim 11:13). 

It has been explained and made clear that this is the goal of the mitzvos and the foundation of our Sages’ belief. The only person who will be oblivious to this is a fool and a naïve simpleton who has already been corrupted by crazy, fantastical, imaginary and degenerate notions. This [high level of lishmah] is the level of Avraham Avinu, who was oved me’ahavah (Sotah 31a), and this is the path which we are obligated to strive for. 

But the Sages (of blessed memory) knew that this was a very difficult concept which not every person can grasp. Even if he does grasp it, it will not seem correct at first glance, and it will not seem like a true opinion, since man’s nature is to not do an action unless it will bring him some benefit or enable him to avoid some harm, and if it does neither of these, then the act would be pointless. How is it possible to say to a Torah-observant Jew, “Do these actions and don’t do these,” not out of fear of Hashem’s punishment and not out of a hope for reward? This is very difficult, for not all people grasp the truth and will be like Avraham Avinu. 

Therefore, they permitted the masses to remain in accordance with their mentality, to do the good out of hope for reward and to avoid the bad out of fear of punishment. They encouraged them in this, and strengthened their thoughts about it, until the apprehender apprehends and knows the truth and knows what the perfected path is – just like the youth at the time of learning, according to the aforementioned analogy. They were critical of Antignos of Socho for publicizing among the masses what he publicized, saying, “Sages – be careful with your words! etc.” as we explained in Avos. The masses do not lose out completely by fulfilling the mitzvos out of fear of reward and hope of punishment; they are just not perfected. But it is better for them to do this in order for them to acquire the disposition and preparation for fulfilling Torah, so that they will [eventually] move on to the truth and serve out of love. This is what the Sages (of blessed memory) said: “A person should always be involved in Torah even she’lo lishmah, for from she’lo lishmah he will come to lishmah” (Sanhedrin 105b, Pesachim 50b, Nazir 23b, Sotah 22b and 47a, Horiyos 10b, Erachin 16b).

The Implications of Chazal's "Godless Kiruv" Approach

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The Implications of Chazal's "Godless Kiruv" Approach

A few years ago, while perusing Midrash Eichah, I came across a statement made by Chazal about how to get people to return to Torah - a statement which, were it not for the fact that Chazal said it, I would have been reluctant to even consider it as a possibility. 

The midrash is based on a phrase from a pasuk in Yirmiyahu, which I will present in context: 

And it shall be that when you tell all these things to this people, they will say to you, "Why has Hashem spoken all this great evil against us? What is our iniquity, what is our transgression that we have transgressed before Hashem our God?" 

And you shall say to them, "It is because your forefathers have abandoned Me" - the word of Hashem - "and they went after other gods and served them and bowed down to them, and they abandoned Me and they didn't keep My Torah" (Yirmiyahu 16:10-11).

The midrash (Eichah Rabbah: Pesichta 2) says:

R' Huna and R' Yirmiyah said in the name of R' Chiyya bar Abba: It is written, "they abandoned Me and they did not keep My Torah" - if only they had abandoned Me but kept My Torah, because they involved themselves in it, the illumination within it would have returned them to the good.

Rav Huna said: Learn Torah, even she'lo lishmah (not for its own sake), because from she'lo lishmah, one will come [to learn it] lishmah (for its own sake).

According to the midrash, the tragedy of Churban ha'Bayis (the destruction of the Temple) and galus (exile) only happened because Bnei Yisrael abandoned Hashem and didn't learn [1] His Torah, but if they only abandoned Hashem but continued to learn Torah, then the "light of Torah" would have ultimately brought them back. 

There are two major questions on this midrash: 

(1) What does it mean by "abandoning Hashem"? Is this talking about violating halacha? Is it talking about worshiping other gods? Is it talking about atheism?

(2) How does "the illumination of Torah" bring people back to the good? This question must be answered specifically with regards to people who have "abandoned Hashem." 

To answer the first question it would make sense to consult the meforshim on the phrase "they have abandoned Me" in the pasuk on which our midrash is based. Unfortunately, the answers they provide aren't so clear.

• The Targum Yonasan [2] strips the phrase of its anthropomorphic implications by rendering "abandoned Me" as "abandoned My worship." 
• The Metzudas David [3] explains it to mean "they didn't believe in Me in their hearts," which we can't take at face value because the pasuk right before it says that Bnei Yisrael will ask: "Why has Hashem spoken all this great evil against us? What is our iniquity, what is our transgression that we have transgressed before Hashem our God?" Clearly Bnei Yisrael at least professed belief in Hashem, and seems to have believed in Him on a conscious level. Does the Metzudas David mean that their emunah (conviction) in God was flawed or insufficient? If so, how? 
• According to the Malbim, [4] the phrase "abandoned Me" refers to the fact that prior generations forgot Torah, and therefore they didn't know Hashem. This reading poses its own difficulties when we consider what the midrash might mean when it contemplates the possibility of Bnei Yisrael abandoning Hashem but still learning Torah; this would seem to be worse than abandoning both of them, due to forgetting Torah. 

So the answer to our first question is ... unclear. We'll just have to work on the second question, and then extrapolate as much as we can about the first. 

The answer to the second question, I believe, can be found in a statement of the Rambam. [5] In Chapter 6 of Hilchos Teshuvah the Rambam gives his interpretation of the pesukim: "Good and upright is Hashem; therefore He guides sinners on the path. He leads the humble with justice and teaches His way to the humble" (Tehilim 25:7-8). He explains:

This means that Hashem has sent prophets to them, who teach them the ways of Hashem and help them to return in teshuvah. Moreover, He instilled within them the capacity to learn and to understand - for this tendency is present in every man, that the more he is drawn after the ways of chochmah (wisdom) and tzedek (righteousness), the more he desires them and pursues them. This is what the Sages meant by "ha'ba l'taher, mesayin oso" ("one who comes to be purified is assisted") - in other words, he will find himself assisted in the matter [by the aforementioned natural tendency].

I believe the answer to our second question is that if a person is learning Torah with the correct approach, then his internal draw towards chochmah and tzedek will increase his attachment to Torah-learning, and will ultimately "return him to the good." Probably not in every case, but enough for the midrash to be able to make its generalization. 

What leads me to believe that this interpretation is correct? Because I have witnessed it with my own eyes. I'm speaking both as a teacher and as a student of Torah. I've seen many cases involving my own students - or my fellow talmidim (students) in high school and in yeshiva - who were atheists, agnostics, or irreligious. At first they displayed emotional resistance to certain Jewish topics, but were nevertheless drawn to the chochmas ha'Torah (the wisdom of Torah). Over the course of several years of learning, their natural desire for chochmah and tzedek was awakened and strengthened, and they wanted more. Eventually, their learning led them to embrace Torah as a system, at which point, it can be said that they have "returned to the good." 

Can this happen on a national level, as it would seem from the context [6] of the pesukim? We might be inclined to say "no," but far be it for us to underestimate the transformative power of the chochmas ha'Torah - especially when presented by a good teacher. 

Now, you may be wondering why the title of this post is: "The Implications of Chazal's Godless Kiruv Approach." Other than clickbait reasons, my intent was to open up the discussion about how the principle in this midrash might be implemented in kiruv (Jewish outreach). 

Disclaimer: I have already written about my personal stance on kiruv. To sum it up: I'm generally not in favor of kiruv. At the same time, we live in an era where "kiruv" and "regular Torah education" overlap in many ways. It is far more common nowadays to encounter students from Orthodox Jewish homes in Orthodox Jewish Day Schools whose Jewish education is sorely lacking, and who - most likely due to the Internet - have numerous questions, doubts, and problems with Judaism which have not been adequately addressed by their teachers.

The standard approach that is often taken with these students is to try making them into "believers." There is a lot of emphasis placed on "curing" them of their atheism or agnosticism. In my personal and professional opinion, this approach is not fruitful, and often backfires.

Instead, I prefer the approach implicit in this midrash. The priority should be exposure to "the illumination of Torah" - namely, providing students with high quality exposure to the chochmah and tzedek of Torah. This doesn't mean that topics about Hashem should be avoided (God forbid!), but rather, that the emphasis should be on the involvement in the learning itself - not in "converting" students to belief in Hashem. The goal should be attachment to Torah learning. If that goal is achieved, then the rest will follow.

This course is fraught with dangers as well. One must be careful not to present an “Orthopraxy” version of Judaism, which downplays (or outright objects to) the role of belief in the practice of Torah. Similarly, one must not fall into the trap of “the bad Academic Approach,” which reduces Torah to a mere cultural repository of ancient beliefs, rather than a regimen designed to develop a truth-seeking mind.

I'm not saying that this is a simple solution. There are many complexities that need to be worked out on paper, and even more which need to be addressed in the classroom. Each and every student is different, and it isn't realistic to hope for a one-size-fits-all approach.

Nevertheless, I think that this midrash is expressing a powerful model of kiruv which should be considered in the present age of Torah education. Tzarich iyun (this requires further analysis).

[1] Last year a chavrusa of mine challenged my reading of the phrase "kept My Torah." He wanted to read "keeping Torah" in this midrash to mean "keeping halacha" rather than "learning Torah." I think such a reading is extremely forced. First of all, the midrash uses the phrase מתוך שהיו מתעסקים בה ("because they involved themselves in it"), and "עוסק בתורה" always refers to learning Torah - not keeping halacha. Secondly, our midrash is followed immediately by Rav Huna's statement, which is about learning Torah - not keeping halacha. Lastly, if you do a search for meforshim who cite our midrash in their commentary, you'll find that they understand it to be talking about learning Torah - not keeping halacha. See Metzudas David on Yirmiyahu 9:12 and Tehilim 119:104; Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei Teshuvah 697; Ha'amek Davar on Devarim 32:47; Derech Hashem 4:2.

[2] Targum Yonasan on Yirmiyahu 16:12

[3] Rav David Altschuler (Metzudas David), Commentary on Sefer Yirmiyahu 16:11

[4] Rav Meir Leibush ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Commentary on Sefer Yirmiyahu 16:11

[5] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha'Mada, Hilchos Teshuvah 6:4

[6] at least, if we take this midrash as an actual interpretation, and not just a drashah