Why Talk About Other Religions?

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Why Talk About Other Religions?

Last week I wrote an article which concluded with the following paragraph:

One of the many aspects of Judaism I appreciate is the ability to conduct “halachic archaeology.” In other religions and cultures, asking, “Why do we do XYZ?” will often be met with a shrug – or worse, with the non-answer of “TRADITION!” In Judaism, there are always answers, and it is always possible to conduct research to find them.

A friend of mine posed the following questions, in a series of sequential Facebook comments (abbreviated here):

Why do you think this is a difference between Judaism and other religions and cultures, rather than a difference between thoughtful people and the masses in many religions and cultures? …  At least speaking for myself, I am more confident in my knowledge of the good of Torah, than in the things other cultures/religions are missing. How do you know that they lack that value (at least as an ideal)? Even if other cultures had a similar value, how likely would you have heard of it? Flipping the question, how likely would an outsider be to know Torah is chachma (wisdom) based? …

More importantly, what is the need to look outside and make the comparison? What is lacking if we “merely” had gratitude for being part of a system which values this, without raising the question if others have the value too? … I guess this is a special case of a broader question. Why do we sometimes focus on the contrast (“shelo asani Goy” “for not making me a gentile,” “asher bachar banu mikol ha’amim” “Who chose us from among all the nations” etc.). What do we mean by it and what does it add? What would be lacking if we only reflected on the good that we have (“she’asani Yisrael” “Who made me a Jew”), without worrying about how it stacks up with other peoples’ good?

Strictly speaking, my friend is probably correct. Other religions and cultures may indeed have a contingent which can answer the types of questions I raised. Perhaps other religions and cultures do share this same value of chochmah that we have in Judaism. Perhaps there is no need to look outside of ourselves. Perhaps we should focus exclusively on our own good – yet, I am nevertheless compelled by my pedagogic experience and intuition to make such statements anyway.

When I was a high school teacher, I taught many students who were in conflict about their Judaism and/or their conviction in God. I was not at all bothered by such students. In fact, I often found that they were more intellectually honest in their quest for truth than many of their peers. But you know what really irked me? When they expressed their doubts and questions by saying things like, “I’m not so into religion” or “I have questions about religion” or “I don’t think I can accept religion.” This bothered me. A lot. I would ask them, “Is your question about ‘religion’ in general or is it about your religion of Judaism?” Sure enough, their question was always about Judaism in specific. Upon establishing this, I’d ask, “So why are you expressing your questions and doubts as if they are about ‘religion’ in general?” This was a rhetorical question. I knew the answer: in their minds, Judaism was basically no different than any other religion. And since they were raised in a secular and anti-religious culture, many of their objections to Judaism were raised in the framework of generic “religion.” 

Because I taught so many kids like this, I got into the habit of emphasizing that Judaism is not an ordinary religion. Was this rhetoric on my part? Yes. But I felt that this rhetoric was necessary in our day and age. I did not want a single one of my students to waltz through their four years of high school making the mistake of lumping Judaism into the same category as other religions. I wanted to ensure that any time they felt an anti-religious impulse, they would ask themselves, “Is this a problem I have with religion or with Judaism? Does Judaism actually hold like this, or am I making assumptions?” 

To answer my friend’s question: yes, I can only speak with any degree of authority about Judaism. Perhaps I would be better off only talking and writing about what I know, without making assumptions about other religions and cultures. And yet, even though I am currently not a high school teacher, I feel compelled to continue doing my part in this ongoing culture war by differentiating Judaism from other religions. If such distinctions prove to be inaccurate but lead readers to question their assumptions and delve deeper into Judaism, then I have done my job. And I have Hillel as my precedent.

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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.

Mishlei 29:9 - The Fool's Dirty Debate Tactics

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Mishlei 29:9 - The Fool's Dirty Debate Tactics

משלי כט:ט

אִישׁ חָכָם נִשְׁפָּט אֶת אִישׁ אֱוִיל וְרָגַז וְשָׂחַק וְאֵין נָחַת:

Mishlei 29:9

Raw Translation: A wise man who nishpat with a foolish man, and he rages and he laughs, and there is no satisfaction/rest.

I chose this pasuk for today's Mishlei post because it's a good example of how ambiguity in the wording can lead to multiple directions in the analysis. When I learned this pasuk with my Mishlei group this past Shabbos, we didn't have access to my mikraos gedolos (compendium of commentaries), and we were forced to work out the translation on our own. I'll include the difficulties in my list of questions on the pasuk:

(1) What does "nishpat" mean? The root SH.F.T. (ש.פ.ט.) typically denotes "to judge," but can also mean "to dispute" or "to argue." The use of the nifal (passive) form is also very strange. "is judged" makes sense, but "is disputed" or "is argued [with]" are also valid translations.

(2) Who "rages" and "laughs"? Is the chacham (wise man) raging and laughing at the eveel (foolish man), or is the eveel raging and laughing at the chacham? 

(3) What, exactly, is this "rage" and "laughter"? Is "rage" different than mere "anger"? Is the emphasis on his feeling of anger, or on his display of anger? The laughter is even vaguer than the rage. Is this talking about "laughter" that stems from humor? Is it laughter of mockery? Is it laughter of happiness and camaraderie? And why is this person raging and laughing? What is the relationship between the situation (i.e. arguing, disputing, or being judged) and these two reactions? Is it davka (specifically) these two reactions, or are these just examples from within a larger category?

(4) Who doesn't receive satisfaction - and why not? The answer to this question is dependent on the answer to Question #2, and maybe dependent on the answer to Question #3.

[Time to stop and think about the pasuk in light of these questions. Read on when ready.]

Before we can present the main idea of the pasuk, we need to settle on a translation. Here are the approaches taken by the various meforshim:

Rashi: A wise man who argues with a foolish man may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man].

Ralbag: When a wise man argues with a foolish man, [the fool] will rage and laugh, and there will be no rest [for the wise man].

Ibn Ezra: When a wise man is judged with a foolish man, [the fool] may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man].

Metzudas David: A wise man who is judged with a foolish man may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction [for the wise man]. 

As I mentioned, we didn't have access to meforshim when we learned this pasuk. The translation we came up with happens to be one that none of the meforshim explicitly say:

Our Translation: When a wise man is judged with a foolish man, [the fool] may rage and laugh, but he will have no satisfaction.

For those of you who appreciate charts, here are the five translations side by side:

The fact that none of the meforshim proposed this translation doesn't bother me. I am not aware of any grammatical or syntactical problems, and our translation reflects the most straightforward reading, both in terms of the use of the passive "nishpat" (which literally means "he is judged") and in the conservative reading of the ambiguous pronouns (i.e. "the fool may rage and laugh, but there will be no satisfaction for the fool"). Plus, "raging" and "laughing" seem more like the actions of an eveel than the actions of a chacham, which is why we shied away from translating the pasuk like Rashi and Metzudas David.

Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

When a chacham finds himself in a situation in which he is being judged alongside an eveel (e.g. two participants in a public debate, two businessmen competing for the same customers, two candidates vying for the same position), he should prepare himself to face the dirty tactics that the eveel will use. The fool will attempt to prevail by utilizing provocatively aggressive displays of emotion – such as rage and mocking laughter – in an effort to destabilize the chacham, and to make himself appear dominant in comparison. As long as the chacham remains visibly unshaken and unperturbed by the eveel's bombastic onslaught, and doesn’t give him the satisfaction of pushing his buttons, then these tactics will backfire. The audience (i.e. whoever is in a position to pass judgment) will observe the stark contrast between the chacham’s cool, levelheaded, objective disposition and the eveel’s heated, combative, immature bullying; this side-by-side comparison will simultaneously boost the ethos of the chacham and diminish that of the eveel. Chances are that the eveel, himself, will become frustrated with the chacham’s indifference to his assaults, which will destabilize him, making him feel even more frantic and less in control of himself; this, in turn, will make him appear desperate and pathetic in the eyes of the audience, thereby giving the chacham an edge - in addition to the substance of his arguments, which will inevitably be superior to the eveel's.

After we came up with this explanation, and I gained access to my meforshim, I saw that the Ri Nachmias gives a very similar explanation of our pasuk. The only difference is that he translates "nishpat" as "argues" instead of "is judged," like Rashi and Ralbag, in contrast to Ibn Ezra and Metzudas David. Nevertheless, he also learns - like we do - that there is an audience present in the situation, which practically means that the chacham and eveel are being judged. Here is the relevant excerpt from the Ri Nachmias's (much lengthier) explanation:

If a wise man who argues with a fool, [the fool] may rage and laugh ... Since this fool doesn't have much knowledge, he'll project self-images (oseh tzuros me'atzmo) to deceive the people who are there ... These are polemical techniques (darchei nitzuach) which [the eveel uses to] trick listeners [into thinking that he] knows what he doesn't [actually know].

The Ri Niachmias quotes a pasuk from elsewhere in Shlomo ha'Melech's writings which supports our interpretation: "The words of the wise are heard calmness (b'nachas) over the shouting of a ruler among fools" (Koheles 9:17). In the Rambam's description of how talmidei chachamim (Torah scholars) speak and behave, he borrows this phrase from Koheles:

A talmid chachamim shouldn't yell or shout when he speaks, like animals and wild beasts, nor should he raise his voice; rather, his speech with people should be calm. And when he speaks calmly, he should be careful not to distance himself, to the extent that he appears haughty.

In other words, this calmness in speech shouldn't be limited to situations involving a fool. Rather, "nachas" (in the sense of "calmness" rather than "satisfaction") should be the default mode of speech for talmidei chachamim.

The Ralbag would agree with the title of this post, but according to him, our pasuk focuses on a specific tactic used by the eveel in debates: interrupting the chacham. He translates our pasuk as: "When a wise man argues with a foolish man, [the fool] will rage and laugh, and there will be no rest [for the wise man]." Here is his explanation:

When a wise man argues with a foolish man, in a verbal back-and-forth, the eveel will not allow the chacham to speak and to finish his statements. Instead, sometimes he'll react angrily to what he hears the chacham say and will not allow him to complete his statements, and sometimes he'll laugh and mock what he hears [the chacham] say, and he will not give him a pause (nachas) which would enable him to complete what he intended to clarify. This pasuk is, as it were, a warning to the chacham not to argue with an eveel.

One of the best examples of our pasuk in action is the Canadian psychologist Jordan Peterson. I found a video which exemplifies all three interpretations - that of the Ralbag, the Ri Nachmias, and ours. I wanted to find a shorter video, but this is the best I could come up with.


It will not always be possible for a chacham to avoid debating with or being judged alongside an eveel. When such a situation arises, the chacham must keep the eveel's repertoire of tricks at the forefront of his mind, and not allow him to get the upper hand.