Kol ha'Seridim (NOW at rabbischneeweiss.substack.com/): Learning

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Tuesday, August 10, 2021

How to Choose What to Learn Before You Die

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by Joey and Estee Lichter in honor of the marriage of Isaac and Aviva.

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Disclaimer: this article is not intended for those who are in the “training” stages of their learning (e.g. students who are still in high school, yeshiva, or seminary and are still acquiring their skills and knowledge base); rather, it is for those who have already developed a relationship with learning, but find themselves in the trenches of adulthood and are struggling with their life/learning balance, or are having difficulty choosing what to learn in their limited time.

How to Choose What to Learn Before You Die

I’d like to recap a conversation my chavrusa and I had this past Sunday about learning. He knew I had recently read Greg McKeown’s Essentialism: the Disciplined Pursuit of Less and was curious about how I intend to apply Essentialist principles to my learning. He expressed his own frustration with having so many things he wanted to learn but not enough time in the week to learn it all.

I suggested the following thought experiment: “Imagine that this will be the last week of your life. You have Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and you will die at the end of Shabbos. What are you going to learn, with whom are you going to learn it, and how are you going to learn it?” My chavrusa was intrigued by the question and started answering. When he gave me specific answers (“I want to continue learning Mishlei with my sister”) I affirmed them, but when he gave vague answers (“I want to learn areas in Tanach that have an impact on my life”) I demanded specificity (“Tell me specifically which topic or text you are going to take up, and on which days this week, and with which chavrusa?”).

I recommend that you, my dear reader, give this a try. The goal of this exercise is not to extrapolate a personal curriculum directly from the answers given. There are many more factors to be taken into account. The goal is three-fold: (1) to differentiate between learning you love and learning you don’t, (2) to identify the reasons (or non-reasons) why you are currently learning what you are currently learning, and (3) to understand why you aren’t learning what you actually want to be learning, so that you can figure out what definite steps you need to take in order to start.

An example of (1) and (2) emerged when I examined my own schedule. Thank God, I am currently learning almost everything I want to learn as part of my weekly teaching schedule in yeshiva. I was pleased to discover that if any given week were my very last, I would keep my schedule exactly as it is … except for my Wednesday night Chumash Methodology shiur. I realized that although I was excited about this shiur at the beginning of the year, my excitement faded as the year went on. Habit and momentum were the only reason I kept it going. This realization solidified my decision to jettison the shiur and replace it with something I am passionate about for this coming year.

An example of (3) emerged when my chavrusa said that he really wanted to be in a regular Gemara iyun shiur that he prepared for with a chavrusa. When I asked him, “What is preventing you from doing that right now?” he gave me a clear answer and was able to identify the steps that were necessary to make that happen. But if he hadn’t been able to do that, then this exercise would have prompted him to do so.

The Rambam writes: “Until when is a person obligated to learn Torah? Until the day of his death” (Hilchos Talmud Toah 1:11). He doesn’t raise this question for other mitzvos. Unlike krias shema, tefillin, mezuzah, and the other mitzvos which are observed for the duration of one’s life, learning Torah is a lifelong project. The question of what to learn during our remaining days should be periodically asked and answered with this perspective in mind. However, since we don’t know when we’re going to die, and since it’s so easy to fall into learning habits and routines for months or even years without realizing it, a simple reminder of our own mortality might be enough to snap us out of the trance and reconnect us with our love of learning.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast" For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.

Thursday, August 5, 2021

Musings on Unrecorded Shiurim

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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Tuesday, July 27, 2021

The Principle of Humanity vs. Emunas Chachamim

This week's Torah content has been sponsored by Sol and Chummie Azose, in honor of the upcoming 81st birthday of the Rosh ha'Yeshiva, Rabbi Yisroel Chait, and the 91st birthday of Sol's father, Hazzan Isaac Azose. If you're interested in sponsoring a day's or a week's worth of Torah content, you can contact me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com.

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The Principle of Humanity vs. Emunas Chachamim

At the beginning of Radical Hope: Ethics in the Face of Cultural Devastation, Jonathan Lear mentions the Principle of Humanity: “that we should try to interpret others as saying something true – guided by our own sense of what is true and of what they could reasonably believe.” The very short Wikipedia article has a different formulation:

[When] interpreting another speaker we must assume that his or her beliefs and desires are connected to each other and to reality in some way, and attribute to him or her “the propositional attitudes one supposes one would have oneself in those circumstances.”

A third formulation, stated in the Wikipedia article on the nearly identical Principle of Charity, includes negatives: “to avoid attributing irrationality, logical fallacies, or falsehoods to the others' statements, when a coherent, rational interpretation of the statements is available.”

Compare all of that to “emunas chachamim,” which the braisa (Avos 6:6) identifies as one of the 48 qualities through which the Torah is acquired. Some might explain "emunas chachamim" to mean “faith in the wisdom of the Sages,” which suggests an uncritical acceptance of the truth of the Sages’ words. According to my understanding, it would be more accurate to render “emunas chachamim” as “faith that the Sages are chachamim.” In Darchei ha’Talmud, the relatively unknown Talmudic methodology manual by R’ Yitzchak Kanpanton (1360 – 1463 C.E.), the author expounds in detail on what emunas chachamim looks like in action:

At the outset of your analysis, you should establish as a premise of your thinking that each of the speakers – the one who asks and the one who answers – that both of them are intelligent, and that all their words [were spoken] with wisdom, understanding, and knowledge, without anything twisted or distorted. This is what [the Sages] mean when they [rhetorically] exclaim: "Are we dealing with idiots?!" (Shevuos 48b). Therefore, you must analyze all their statements and see if they are statements with sound reasons, "as strong as a molten mirror" (Iyov 37:18) or whether [they are] weak statements, [like] "bland food without salt" (ibid. 6:6), and whether they are intellectually probable or improbable. One must strive to make their words probable and to adjust their ideational content so that [the statements] will be beautiful and acceptable and intellectually feasible; [one must also strive] not to ascribe to them the guilty iniquity of a tenuous or weak sevara (theory). None of their words should fall to the earth, for they are all "the words of the living God." And if they are "empty," [the "emptiness"] is from you. (Darchei ha’Talmud 1:3)

There are clear similarities between the Principle of Humanity and emunas chachamim. Both prompt the reader to grant the text in question the benefit of the doubt, interpreting it in the best light possible. Both effectively counteract the “strawman” fallacy by encouraging a “steelman” approach.

It is the differences between these two principles which interest me. The Principle of Humanity dictates that our interpretation of the text should be guided by “our own sense of what is true” as the first version has it. The second goes further and says that we must “attribute to him or her the propositional attitudes one supposes one would have oneself in those circumstances.” In other words, we interpret the words in light of our own ideas. In contrast, emunas chachamim prompts us to move outside of our current understanding, recognizing that we are dealing with superior minds who will expand our horizons of understanding.

The limitation, of course, is that whereas the Principle of Humanity can and should be applied to everyone, emunas chachamim applies on a sliding scale based on the extent to which the author is deemed a chacham. This necessitates a prior judgment to be made by the reader – one which, unfortunately, the reader is not always equipped to make. At least the Principle of Humanity can act as a failsafe for when emunas chachamim misfires.

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Monday, July 26, 2021

Taking the Road Less Traveled in Learning

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Artwork: Adventurous Impulse, by Minttu Hynninen

Taking the Road Less Traveled in Learning

Yes, I am well aware of the source of the idiom and the fact that it is regarded as a misquote or a misunderstanding; see https://grammarist.com/idiom/the-road-less-traveled/

The Abravanel’s Lonely Quest

In his introduction to Sefer Shmuel, the Abravanel raises a powerful question about Sefer Divrei ha’Yamim (The Book of Chronicles): What, exactly, was Ezra ha’Sofer’s plan in composing this sefer? He subdivides this question into two “perplexities:” (a) Why did Ezra include some of the events and episodes from David ha’Melech’s life but omit others? (b) Why did Ezra repeat material from Sefer Shmuel and Sefer Melachim, much of it verbatim?

What intrigues me about this passage is not the Abravanel’s question or his answers, but the thoughts and feelings he expresses about his relationship to the question and his quest for answers. Here is the relevant excerpt, which I’ve divided into three paragraphs:

These are the perplexities that have arisen from this powerful question. Regarding the quest for the answer and the resolution [of these doubts] – behold! I remain alone, and no one has worked with me on these [matters]. On this subject I have found nothing – minor or major, good or bad – from our Sages of blessed memory: not from the early Talmudic Sages, nor from the latter authors or commentators. Not even one of them was bestirred by this perplexity at all, nor did any of them pave the way for its answer.

Behold! Hashem has added grief to my pain, for we do not have with us in this land a commentary on Sefer Divrei ha’Yamim, except for the few matters authored by the Radak (of blessed memory) which are nullified in their minuteness (batelim b’miutan), and he didn’t investigate deeply at all. Moreover, this book of Divrei ha’Yamim is not commonplace among the Jews in their midrashim.

Today I will recall my sin (es chata’ai ani mazkir ha’yom), for never in my days had I read it, nor had I investigated its contents for the duration of my existence until now, and nothing has remained for me but the force of my reasoning and my intellectual intuition about the pshat (straightforward meaning) of the pesukim, and the help of God Who has girded me with success and made wholesome my path.

Rarely do we see the classical meforshim (commentators) engage in such metacognitive commentary, reflecting on their own learning experiences and their feelings about them. When I read this, I was moved by my own similar experience – so much so, that I decided to write my own reflections on the three points raised by the Abravanel, as they pertain to my own teaching and learning. I don’t know whether anyone will find these reflections to be enlightening or beneficial, but I felt the need to express them.

Answering Questions that Haven’t Been Asked

The Abravanel begins by voicing his astonishment over the fact that his questions weren’t raised by any of his predecessors. To those who are familiar with the Abravanel and his intellectual fearlessness, it won’t come as a surprise that he wasn’t the least bit daunted by the absence of exegetical precedent.

In my experience, few intellectual thrills in Torah study compare to the discovery of a major question that none of the traditional commentators have asked. (True, the unanimous silence can sometimes make one wonder whether the question is founded on a mistaken premise; but more often than not, the question is so clear and powerful as to be undeniable, and the fact that none of the meforshim has raised it is a question on them – not a cause for self-doubt.) The thrill I experience has nothing to do with being the first to discover something. It’s the thrill of freshly fallen snow, the awakened creative energy felt upon finding a new source of inspiration, the excitement before opening the first pack in a Magic: the Gathering booster draft. It has nothing to do with ego or accomplishment, and everything to do with adventure.

Mishlei has provided me with some excellent practice in this regard. Because the pesukim are so cryptically worded, and because the commentators take such diverse approaches, it’s not uncommon to see a later commentator bothered by a question that earlier commentaries neglected to address. When I teach Mishlei I always require my students to come up with every question they can think of, no matter how minor it seems. When we survey the commentaries we typically find that most of the questions are addressed in some form or another, and if any of them aren’t, I remind my students that before these commentaries were written, then none of the questions were addressed, and that doesn’t make the questions any less real or valuable!

While I don’t go out of my way to look for such unasked questions, I am always delighted to encounter them in my learning. And even if I can’t answer them, my mind is inevitably enriched by their discovery.

Learning Without the Aid of Commentaries

The Abravanel then goes on to bemoan the woeful state of Divrei ha’Yamim commentaries. Thankfully, this isn’t a problem I encounter much in my own learning. Most of the texts I learn on a regular basis have enough commentaries to provide me with the guidance I need.

There are two exceptions, however: midrash aggadah (the homiletical interpretations and non-legalistic teachings of Chazal, as found in the Talmud and in the collections of midrashim) and the nusach ha’tefilah (liturgy), including piyyutim (liturgical poems), selichos (supplicatory penitential prayers) and kinnos (lamentations). It’s true that there are commentaries out there on these genres and subgenres, but unlike the commentaries on the texts of Torah she’bi’Chsav (the Written Torah), Torah she’baal Peh (the Oral Torah), and Talmud, I find that these commentaries often fail to provide me with the answers, elucidations, and direction I’m looking for. This leaves me in a similar situation to the one described by the Abravanel: no commentaries except for a few that don’t investigate on a deep enough level and are batel b’miutan, which forces me to venture out on my own.

Filling the Gaps

The Abravanel concludes by “confessing” his “sin” of never having investigated or even read Sefer Divrei ha’Yamim until the present time in his life. Interestingly enough, this is what led me to start learning Sefer Shmuel in the first place, which led me to the Abravanel’s comments.

I began my formal Jewish education in 11th grade at the alpeh-beis level. I spent the next several years “playing catchup” in an effort to compensate for the years of Jewish education I had missed out on as a child. Although I’m certainly happy with how far I’ve come, there are still major gaps in my learning. One of those gaps is Neviim Rishonim (i.e. Yehoshua, Shoftim, Shmuel, and Melachim – with the exception of the second half of Melachim II, which I taught for a number of years). What makes this gap even more embarrassing is the fact that most of my students learned these seforim at a young age, and tend to be fluent in the basic stories and characters. After years of asking my high school students to summarize famous episodes in the lives of Shmuel, Shaul, and David ha’Melech, and after repeatedly finding myself impeded by my own ignorance in my learning of Sefer Tehilim, I finally decided to “do teshuvah” and start learning Sefer Shmuel.

There is an advantage of learning something like Sefer Shmuel or Sefer Divrei ha’Yamim for the first time at a later-than-normal age – an advantage which is alluded to by the Abravanel, although it wasn’t necessarily his intent to make this point. He writes that his study of Sefer Divrei ha’Yamim would be guided by “[nothing] but the force of my reasoning and my intellectual intuition about the pshat of the pesukim.” Unlike his analysis of the other books of Tanach, which was undertaken at a much earlier age and was likely influenced by many other teachers and other commentaries, the Abravanel’s learning of Divrei ha’Yamim commenced at a more intellectually mature age; as such, it was led by his honed intuition and uninfluenced by external biases (at least, as uninfluenced as any of us can be).

Similarly, although I don’t share with my students and peers the advantage of having been raised with the stories in Sefer Shmuel, I do have an opportunity that they didn’t have: to learn through the text for the first time with the advantage of 20 years of serious learning, teaching, and personal development under my belt. This will allow me to see things that I might not have otherwise seen.

Concluding Thoughts

I have been obsessed with methodology and metacognition for as long as I have been involved in learning. Perhaps, because of this, I find this Abravanel more interesting than most. As a teacher, I strongly feel that students derive tremendous benefits from hearing their teachers speak in this manner about their own learning processes and their relationship to learning. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has, over the course of his learning, wondered, “Do I have to figure this out alone?” The more comfortable teachers feel to discuss their own learning-related doubts, anxieties, and (to use the Abravanel’s phrase) “sins,” the more their students can benefit by learning from their experiences.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast" For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.

Friday, July 23, 2021

Vaeschanan: Declaring Hashem’s Oneness in Love

This week's Torah content is sponsored by a generous donor who wishes to remain anonymous, and told me, "No thanks needed!" so I'm not going to thank them.

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Vaeschanan: Declaring Hashem's Oneness in Love

“Hear, O Israel, Hashem is our God, Hashem is One” (Devarim 6:4). This pasuk is the source of the mitzvah of Yichud Hashem (God’s Oneness). We are commanded to “unify” Hashem in our minds: to know that He is Absolutely One in every sense of the term, and to continually strip away all notions of contingency, multiplicity, physicality, and temporality from our conception of Him (Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah 1:7-12).

“You shall love Hashem, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your resources” (Devarim 6:5). We are also commanded in the mitzvah of ahavas Hashem (love of God): to contemplate the infinite wisdom in His wondrous creations, which will result in a state of bliss (Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Aseh #3) and fill us with an overpowering desire to seek even more knowledge of Him (Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah 2:2).

Yichud Hashem is logically prior to Ahavas Hashem. After all, how could a person have “a tremendous desire to know the great Name” (ibid.) without knowledge of who Hashem is (and who He is not)? Indeed, the Rambam explains that ahavas Hashem “is based entirely on knowledge, and the love will be in proportion to the knowledge: if little then little, if a lot then a lot” (Hilchos Teshuvah 10:6).

However, in his commentary on Ahavah Rabbah / Ahavas Olam – the berachah which we say in Shacharis before the Shema – the Abudirham indicates that ahavas Hashem is, in another sense, prior to Yichud Hashem:

You will find that this berachah includes many themes: that Hashem loves us more than all the other nations, that He gave us the Torah, that He instilled within us belief in His Oneness, and that He is the Lord of all – but the berachah concludes with [the theme of] love, not with [the theme of] Oneness, because the declaration of His Oneness is ineffective (lo yo’eel) unless it is from love and from a whole heart.

What does this mean? Presumably, the Abudirham would agree that there is inherent value in knowing Yichud Hashem, both because it is a fundamental truth and because such knowledge is a mitzvah. The Torah’s value system of avodah me’ahavah (serving Hashem out of love) and Torah lishmah (learning Torah for its own sake) is predicated on the idea that knowledge is intrinsically valuable, as the Rambam writes: “the only purpose of truth is to know that it is true” (Intro to Perek Chelek). What, then, is the Abudirham referring to when he speaks of the “efficacy” of our declaration of Yichud Hashem? “Effective” in what sense? And what makes a “loveless” proclamation of His Oneness “ineffective”?

According to the Abudirham, it is our declaration of Yichud Hashem that has a purpose beyond merely reviewing the idea. Ahavas Hashem is the motion of the yearning soul in its quest for knowledge of reality. Yichud Hashem is the (ultimately) unattainable destination of that quest. When we affirm our belief in Yichud Hashem from a place of ahavah, we strengthen our conviction that behind this multifaceted reality is a Unity. In other words, a “wholehearted” Shema will have the beneficial effect of reinforcing the synergistic relationship between Yichud Hashem and ahavas Hashem. But if God’s Oneness is nothing but an abstract theoretical construct which resides in our intellect, disconnected from our passionate truth-seeking, then our declaration of Yichud Hashem is reduced to a dry, ritualistic, “ineffective” catechism.

Now we can understand what we mean at the end of this berachah when we ask Hashem to help us “yachedecha be’ahavah” (lit. “to unify You in love”). We are asking that our conviction in His Oneness not only inform but also enflame our quest for knowledge, and that our seeking of truth be oriented towards the ultimate Truth. The conclusion of the berachah teaches us that Hashem’s love towards us is based on our love towards Him.

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Friday, July 16, 2021

Tishah b’Av 5781: An Approach to the Blasphemy in Eichah and Kinnos

This week's Torah content is sponsored by the Reznik family in dedication to the loving memory of Silvia Tanzer (Sora Hesha bas Chaim Moshe) and Irving Tanzer (Yisroel ben Yechezkel).

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Artwork: Doom Blade, by Matthew G. Lewis

Tishah b'Av 5781: An Approach to the Blasphemy in Eichah and Kinnos

“[Hashem] has drawn back His right hand from before the enemy” (Eichah 2:3) “[Hashem] has bent His bow like an enemy, with His right hand set like a tormentor” (ibid. 2:4) “My Lord was like an enemy” (ibid. 2:5)

First Hashem is described as withdrawing His protective right hand, allowing the enemy to attack. Then He is depicted as taking up arms and joining our enemy in its assault. Finally, Hashem, Himself, is identified as our enemy. What insight do these pesukim offer? What is the significance of this progression?

The answer is that this is actually a regression. The first pasuk is the accurate perspective: when we turn away from Hashem, He withdraws His protection, leaving us vulnerable to our enemies. The second pasuk reflects a warped view of Hashem, in which He is characterized as committing treason against His own people. The third pasuk is the worst distortion of them all, in which Hashem is the enemy of the Jews.

Why would Eichah cater to distorted portrayals of Hashem? The same may be asked about the kinnos (liturgical lamentations), which are replete with harsh, inappropriate, even blasphemous statements of this nature. How are we to make sense of such statements? What are we to think when reciting them?

When we suffer a horrific catastrophe – whether the destruction of the Beis ha’Mikdash, or the Holocaust, or even a personal tragedy – there are parts of us which feel that Hashem is like a malicious enemy. This is false, “for He does not afflict maliciously, nor cause the hearts of men to suffer” (ibid. 3:33). It is tempting to think that knowledge alone is the solution – that we can simply supplant falsehood with truth. This approach will not succeed. If we neglect to address these misguided parts of ourselves on their own terms, we will succeed only in driving them underground, where they will continue to affect our minds and hearts in an even more insidious manner. Instead, we must acknowledge that we have these parts of ourselves. We must give expression to them, allowing them to say what they think and feel what they feel. Only when they feel seen and heard will they be receptive to truth. Only then can the healing begin.

Anthony de Mello’s analogy in Awareness: the Perils and Opportunities of Reality illustrates this point:

This reminds me of this fellow in London after the war. He’s sitting with a parcel wrapped in brown paper in his lap; it’s a big, heavy object. The bus conductor comes up to him and says, “What do you have on your lap there?” And the man says, “This is an unexploded bomb. We dug it out of the garden and I’m taking it to the police station.” The conductor says, “You don’t want to carry that on your lap. Put it under the seat.”

The distorted conceptions of Hashem carried by our inner parts are like bombs we carry on our laps. To uncritically embrace these false views as true would be to detonate the bombs. We must seek knowledge of Hashem, led by our tzelem Elokim (intellect) and guided by Torah. But that is not enough. If we dismiss, deny, or “exile” the parts of ourselves that harbor these false views of Hashem, all we’re doing is taking the unexploded bombs and putting them under our seats. This is worse than keeping them on our laps, insofar as we convince ourselves that we’ve eliminated the threat when all we’ve done is hidden it. All it takes is for the bus to be jostled in the wrong way, and these hidden bombs will explode.

There is a third option: to acknowledge the bombs we are carrying, to accept our precarious state, and from that place of awareness, apply our knowledge to diffuse them. This is the intent of Eichah and kinnos: to make us aware of and feel the distorted perspectives we harbor, to accept and feel the precarious metaphysical danger we are in, and from that place of visceral intellectual recognition, to help us “unburden” these misguided parts of ourselves through knowledge and teshuvah and the light of truth.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle/Chase QuickPay and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast" For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Hunting for Treasure vs. Panning for Gold on the Beaches of Nome

This week's Torah content is sponsored by the Reznik family in dedication to the loving memory of Silvia Tanzer (Sora Hesha bas Chaim Moshe) and Irving Tanzer (Yisroel ben Yechezkel).

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Hunting for Treasure vs. Panning for Gold on the Beaches of Nome

According to Mishlei (Proverbs), you will achieve success in your quest for chochmah (wisdom) and tevunah (understanding) if you search for it “like you search for hidden treasures” (2:4). Rabbeinu Yonah explains:

[This means] that the wisdom is sweet to his soul, and working for it will not be a toil for him, due to the abundant love, in the manner of: “it was like a few days in his eyes, due to his love of her” (Bereishis 29:29). It will be like one who searches for hidden treasures, who is told that there is a treasure in this house or in this valley: the quest for the hidden treasure will not be a toil for him, due to [the prospect in] his mind of finding great wealth in one location and becoming instantly rich.

In other words, if you learn with the mentality of a treasure hunter who hopes to hit the mother lode, then learning will not be a toil for you, since it will be fueled by excitement and the hope of being rewarded with instant wealth. But unlike the treasure hunter, whose hope will likely prove to be a fantasy, the seeker of chochmah and tevunah really can strike it rich!

Thank God, the more I learn, the more this treasure hunting mentality has come to characterize my own learning. However, this same mentality has occasionally proven to be an impediment when it comes to teaching. When I was a high school teacher, I had no problem teaching “basic ideas,” since my students were all new to learning. Once I started teaching in yeshiva in the Fall of 2020, I felt a tremendous pressure to come up with major chidushim (new insights) in everything I taught. I’d feel this way in many of my daily shiurim and especially when I’d give a shiur to the whole community. But this wasn’t the first time I’ve experienced this type of pressure. I’ve gone through phases in which my writing suffers from the same problem. I end up feeling like I shouldn’t write an article unless it contains some groundbreaking chidush that will be seen as valuable to all, laypeople and chachamim alike, and this leads to writer’s block.

I am pleased to report that my “Summer 2021 Experiment” of writing one-page articles has counteracted this pressure. I am reminded of another Mishleic mashal (metaphor) for chochmah, stated in the previous chapter: “Chochmah calls out in the streets, in the public squares she gives forth her voice, at the heads of noisy [streets], at the entrances of gates, she gives forth her words” (1:20-21). In contrast to the treasure hunting mashal of Chapter 2, which depicts the scarcity and hidden nature of chochmah, the mashal of Chapter 1 emphasizes its ubiquity and vociferousness: chochmah is on every street corner, wherever you look, and it’s constantly shouting and clamoring to get your attention! In my case, now that I’m looking for “one-page ideas” to write about, I’m noticing them everywhere, which is fantastic!

If I were to create a highly specific mashal which combines these two mashalim, I’d borrow from Shlomo ha’Melech’s comparison of chochmah to gold (see 8:10,18 and 16:16) and I would liken my Summer 2021 experience to panning for gold on the golden beaches of Nome. According to Wikipedia:

The Nome Gold Rush was a gold rush in Nome, Alaska, approximately 1899–1909. It is separated from other gold rushes by the ease with which gold could be obtained. Much of the gold was lying in the beach sand of the landing place and could be recovered without any need for a claim. Total production of gold from the area is estimated to be 112 metric tons.

Chochmah is like Nome’s gold: it’s there in the sand, ready for the taking, and there’s plenty to share.

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If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle/Chase QuickPay and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast" For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here.

Thursday, June 13, 2019

Lishmah and l'Kanter

This can be read as a standalone post, provided that you're familiar with the basic terminology of learning lishmah (for its own sake) and she'lo lishmah (not for its own sake), as explained by the Rambam in his Introduction to Perek Chelek.

I'll also state a disclaimer here. The subject of lishmah and she'lo lishmah is both deep and broad. The topic is multifaceted, and there are many views within the Mesorah on each facet. The purpose of this post is to analyze one answer to one question - not to serve as a comprehensive overview of the entire subject.

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Artwork: Calculated Dismissal, by Karl Kopinski

Lishmah and l'Kanter

The Question

The Gemara in Pesachim 50b states:

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 those who act lishmah, [whereas the pasuk which describes His mercy as merely reaching the heavens] refers to those who act 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 mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah (from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah)."

According to the statement of Rav Yehuda in the name of Rav, learning she'lo lishmah is praiseworthy, insofar as it brings a person to lishmah. The Gemara also implies that those who engage in Torah and mitzvos she'lo lishmah merit a high level of Divine mercy, albeit not quite as high as that attained by those who act lishmah.

Elsewhere, however, Chazal make other statements which imply that learning she'lo lishmah is undesirable. For example, the Gemara in Berachos 17a states:

Rava was wont to say: "The objective of wisdom is teshuvah and good deeds, that a person shouldn't read and learn yet spurn his father, and his mother, and his teacher, and one who is greater than he in wisdom and in number, as it is stated, 'the beginning of wisdom is fear of Hashem, a good intellect to all who do them' (Tehilim 111:10) - it is not stated 'to those who do' but rather it is stated 'to those who do them' - [that is,] to those who act lishmah, but not to those who act she'lo lishmah. And anyone who acts she'lo lishmah - it would be better if he hadn't been created.

Another statement which deprecates she'lo lishmah can be found in Taanis 7a:

It was taught in a braisa that R' Benaah would say: "Anyone who engages in Torah lishmah, it becomes an elixir of life for him, as it is stated: 'it is a tree of life to those who grasp it' (Mishlei 3:18), and it says: 'it shall be health to your navel' (ibid. 3:8), and it says: 'for whoever finds me finds life" (ibid. 8:35). And anyone who engages in Torah she'lo lishmah, it will be an elixir of death for him, as it is stated: 'My teaching shall drop [yaarof] like rain' (Devarim 32:2) and arifah means nothing other than killing, as it is stated: 'they shall break the heifer's neck (arefu) there in the valley' (Devarim 21:4)."

Perhaps the most shocking anti-she'lo lishmah statement can be found in Kallah Rabbasi 5:1:

Rebbi Akiva says: "Whoever studies she'lo lishmah, he would have been better off if he had been smothered by his afterbirth."

Broadly stated, the central question that emerges from these and similar sources is: How can Chazal's anti- she'lo lishmah statements be reconciled with their pro- she'lo lishmah statements? If those who learn she'lo lishmah are better off if they were never created, or if their Torah is an elixir of death, or if they should have been smothered by their afterbirth, then how can Chazal encourage us to engage in Torah and mitzvos she'lo lishmah and say that we will be the recipients of Hashem's mercy "unto the heavens"?

[Note: While it's true that aggadic (non-legal) statements were authored by different sages, and don't necessarily have to be reconciled, the commentators by and large seem to assume that these statements about lishmah and she'lo lishmah ought to be. Perhaps this is the assumption here because it would be strange for there to be a genuine disagreement on a topic that is so fundamental as this.]

Tosafos's Answer

Tosafos state their resolution to this difficulty in several places. Although there are nuanced differences between their different formulations of their answer, they mostly boil down to the same thing. I'll cite the most straightforward formulation, which can be found on Taanis 7a:

"and anyone who engages in Torah she'lo lishmah, it will be an elixir of death for him" - This is difficult, for don't we say that "a person should always be involved in Torah even though it's not lishmah because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah"?

The answer is that there are two types of she'lo lishmah. When we say "a person should always be involved in Torah even she'lo lishmah," this is referring to a case in which [he learns] in order to be called "rabbi" or so that people will honor him, but that which is stated here, [that] "anyone who is involved in Torah she'lo lishmah it becomes an elixir of death for him" - this refers to someone who learns l'kanter.

The term "l'kanter" is a bit tricky to translate. I usually translate it as "to counter" or "to be contrarian." Jastrow translates it as "to chide." I've also seen it translated as "to antagonize," "to provoke," "to break down," "to rebut," "to vanquish," and other similar terms. In their other statements of this answer, the Baalei Tosafos provide some additional clues. On Berachos 17a they use the phrase "l'kanter chaveirav" which implies that l'kanter is an act committed against someone else. On Pesachim 50b they say: "le'hisyaher (to be haughty), l'kanter (to counter), and le'kapeach (to overpower) his fellows in halacha."

Regardless of which translation we use, the general answer provided by Tosafos is clear: there are two types of she'lo lishmah. When Chazal endorse she'lo lishmah learning, they are referring to motives such as seeking honor and wanting to be called "rabbi," and when they speak against she'lo lishmah, they are referring to l'kanter.

Understanding Tosafos's Answer: Approach #1

The main question on Tosafos's answer is: What is the basis of this subdivision within she'lo lishmah? What makes l'kanter different from other she'lo lishmah motives?

The most common answer I've heard to this question is based on the reasoning Chazal used in their endorsement of learning she'lo lishmah. They said: "a person should always engage in Torah and mitzvos even she'lo lishmah, because from she'lo lishmah one will come to lishmah." If l'kanter doesn't fall into this category, then it must be because l'kanter does not bring a person to lishmah.

I have two problems with this approach. The first is that I don't understand why l'kanter cannot bring a person to lishmah. At the end of the day, learning l'kanter doesn't seem to be fundamentally different than learning l'kavod. Some people want the kavod of being called "rabbi," some want the kavod of being knowledgeable in every area of Torah, and the person who learns l'kanter wants the kavod of winning arguments. It's all kavod, and just as the child in the Rambam's parable will eventually "grow out of" his kavod motive and become attached to the learning itself, the same is true for the person who learns l'kanter.

My second problem with this approach is that it's empirically false. I know a number of people whose initial attachment to learning was as a tool to break other people down - usually parents, teachers, or community rabbis with whom they disagreed - and many of these individuals eventually came around to learning lishmah. Yes, it's possible to take any of my examples and argue that the individual in question wasn't really learning l'kanter, or that this person had other legitimate she'lo lishmah motives as well, but this type of apologetic navel-gazing quickly strays into the fallacious "no true Scotsman" territory.

The only basis on which I might be open to accepting this understanding of Tosafos's answer is if l'kanter referred specifically to someone who engages in sophistry, fabrication of sources, intellectual dishonesty, or anything which involves a distortion of truth. The Sefer Chasidim (#294) seems to characterize l'kanter this way, speaking of "[one who learns] l'kanter and to provoke and looks to bring false proofs to undermine your words." If that is what l'kanter means, then I can see how it wouldn't lead to lishmah.

The problem is that I don't see any basis for positing that this is Tosafos's definition of l'kanter. I haven't seen any indications in Tosafos that their concept of l'kanter involves any form of intellectual malfeasance. If this were the essence of their definition of l'kanter, one would expect them to mention it, or at least hint at it.

At the end of the day, the two aforementioned problems prevent me from accepting this approach to understanding Tosafos: (1) I haven't yet heard a convincing explanation of why l'kanter precludes lishmah, and (2) this distinction clashes with my experience.

Understanding Tosafos's Answer: Approach #2

I asked our question to my Mishlei rebbi and he had a much more elegant - and, in my opinion, truer - answer. He explained that according to Tosafos, all she'lo lishmah learning leads to lishmah, but despite that, Chazal discouraged learning l'kanter because of its destructive effects. In other words, there is no difference between l'kanter and any other she'lo lishmah motive insofar as "mitoch she'lo lishmah, ba lishmah" is concerned. The only reason why Chazal singled out l'kanter (according to Tosafos) is because they wanted to voice their disapproval of forms of learning which lead to bad middos (personality traits) and cause strife in the Beis Midrash or in Klal Yisrael.

To clarify the difference between these two approaches, consider the following analogy. A music teacher makes two statements about the practicing piano: (1) "practice makes perfect" and (2) "don't practice all day - remember to go out and play!" It would be possible to reconcile these two statements in the manner of Approach #1 by saying that in general, "practice makes perfect," but practicing all day without going outside to play will not "make perfect." (They say that Chopin forbade his students to practice more than 3-4 hours a day, believing that excess practice is detrimental to musicality.) Alternatively, one can reconcile these two statements by saying that indeed, all practice makes perfect; however, those who only practice but don't go outside to play will suffer additional harm, outside of their musicality, and for that reason it is not advisable to practice all day.

My Mishlei rebbi's approach addresses both of the problems I had with Approach #1. According to this approach, we don't need to grope in the dark for reasons why l'kanter can't lead to lishmah; all we need to do is acknowledge that the harmful effects of l'kanter warranted harsh condemnation by Chazal. Secondly, this approach explains the real-world cases I was referring to earlier: there have been many students who have learned l'kanter and who have arrived at lishmah, even as they wreaked havoc in their middos and communities in the process.

Support from the Rambam

I believe that my Mishlei rebbi's approach to understanding Tosafos is supported by a letter from the Rambam (Sheilat edition p.160). R' Pinchas ha'Dayan had asked the Rambam about the contradictory implications of Chazal's statements about she'lo lishmah. The Rambam answered as follows:

Those two statements regarding one who engages in Torah lishmah and she'lo lishmah do not contradict each other. From both of them we learn that it is only proper to be involved in Torah lishmah, and lishmah is the essence, and we were only commanded to be involved [in Torah] lishmah, and one who is involved [in Torah] she'lo lishmah is better off having never been created.

Nevertheless, it is better to be involved [in Torah] she'lo lishmah than to not be involved in it at all, because this person who is involved in it inappropriately will, because of his involvement she'lo lishmah, come to lishmah.

Unlike the Baalei Tosafos, who resolve the contradiction by subdividing she'lo lishmah into two categories, the Rambam doesn't differentiate between l'kanter and other she'lo lishmah motives. He regards all she'lo lishmah motivations as being equally inferior and equally capable of leading to lishmah.

The proponents of Approach #1 are free to maintain that there is a machlokess (disagreement) between Tosafos and the Rambam on whether l'kanter precludes lishmah, but according to Approach #2, there's no need to posit this. One can simply say that the Rambam and Tosafos are in complete agreement that all she'lo lishmah learning can potentially lead to lishmah, but whereas the Rambam held that these statements of Chazal were intended to convey their views about she'lo lishmah in general, the Baalei Tosafos maintained that they were intended to single out a specific she'lo lishmah motive for condemnation.

Concluding Thoughts

I am curious as to your thoughts on Tosafos's distinction between l'kanter and other she'lo lishmah motives. If you agree with Approach #1 and would like to explain to me why, contrary to the real-world cases I've observed, l'kanter cannot lead to lishmah, then I'm all ears! Alternatively, if you think there's a problem with Approach #2 or if you have a third approach, I'd like to hear that as well. Lastly, if there are other interesting sources, ideas, or questions you'd like to share on the topic of lishmah and she'lo lishmah, please do share!

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

The Implications of Chazal's "Godless Kiruv" Approach

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Artwork: Godless Shrine, by Cliff Childs

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