Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

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Is it Permissible to Enjoy Learning on Tishah b'Av?

When my rebbi Rabbi Morton Moskowitz zt”l passed away a few months ago, I wrote an article entitled Rabbi Moskowitz Memory #05: Tishah b’Av – the Most Enjoyable Day of the Year, which I began with the following paragraph:

If I had to associate Rabbi Moskowitz with a particular day of the year, that day would be Tishah b'Av: the most enjoyable day of every summer. No, I'm not being facetious. For me, and for those of us who were in Seattle at that time of year, Tishah b'Av was the day we looked forward to the most each summer because we knew we were in for some of the most enjoyable learning of the entire year.

I’m sure some people read this article and wondered, “Isn’t it assur to enjoy learning on Tishah b’Av?” On the surface, it would seem that the answer is a resounding: “Yes!” The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 554:1-3) writes:

On Tishah b’Av … it is prohibited to read Tanach, to learn Mishnah, midrash, Gemara, halachos, and aggados, because it is stated: “The ordinances of Hashem are upright, bringing joy to the heart” (Tehilim 19:9); school children shouldn't learn [on Tishah b'Av], but one may read Iyov and the bad parts of Yirmiyah, and if there are verses of consolation, he must skip them. It is permitted to learn Midrash Eichah and the chapter Eilu Megalchin, and it is likewise permitted to learn the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov. There are those who prohibit learning via thinking (i.e. even without speaking).

The Magen Avraham (ibid. 5) explains the rationale behind that last stringency: “Even though thinking is not equivalent to speaking … this is different, since the essential reason [for this prohibition] is because of joy, and in thinking [about Torah] there is joy.” He goes on to explain that for this same reason, it is prohibited to learn anything in depth: “It seems to me that for this reason, it is prohibited to learn any explanation or question or answer even about the ‘bad things’ because this brings a person joy.” Suffice it to say, the Magen Avraham would not approve of the hours of enjoyable in-depth learning and thinking that characterized my Tishah b’Av experiences with Rabbi Moskowitz. 

Thankfully, my posek follows a different view: that of his rebbi, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik (a.k.a. the Rav). In a lengthier analysis than I can summarize in a 1-page article (see Sefer Shiurei ha’Rav al Inyanei Aveilus v’Tishah b’Av, by R’ Eliakim Koenigsberg, pp.44-46), the Rav demonstrated that the prohibition is NOT to experience joy through learning. Rather, Torah study has the legal status of “a joyous activity,” due to its very nature, and it is prohibited to involve oneself in that activity on Tishah b’Av, even if one’s personal learning experience doesn’t bring them any joy whatsoever.

What about the areas of Torah which we are permitted to learn on Tishah b’Av? Why don’t they fall under this prohibition? The Rav answered that even though each of these texts constitutes an entity of Torah and learning it would be a fulfillment of the mitzvah of Torah study, nevertheless, these subjects relate to the essential theme of Tishah b’Av. As such, not only is it permissible to learn them, but learning them constitutes an essential involvement in the aveilus ha’yom (mourning of the day). For this reason, they were never included in the prohibition against Torah study on Tishah b’Av in the first place. 

Based on this theory, the Rav – unlike the Magen Avraham – permitted in-depth study and analysis of these texts, since this constitutes an even greater involvement in the aveilus ha’yom. The Rav’s grandfather, R’ Chaim Soloveitchik, cited as a proof of this the fact that it is permissible to study the commentaries on Eichah and Iyov, even though such learning would, by definition, constitute an in-depth study.

According to the Rav’s explanation and halachic position, there is no halachic violation involved in deriving enjoyment from one’s learning of the permissible texts on Tishah b’Av. But is it philosophically appropriate to experience such joy on a day of mourning? And even if it is, does that mean we should avoid it or suppress it? The answer to that question will have to wait for another time. But as always, if you have any thoughts, I’d love to hear them!

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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.

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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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!

The Rav's Description of the Mesorah Experience

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The Rav's Description of the Mesorah Experience

I have gained a lot - directly, and even more so, indirectly - from the Torah of the Rav (Rabbi Yosef Dov ha'Levi Soloveitchik). But one of the most impactful things I have heard from the Rav is his description of the experience of Mesorah (the Oral Tradition), as recorded in a shiur he gave in 1974. This description epitomizes my own experience in learning, and the experience I strive to bring about in my classroom. 

The Rav makes reference to what I wrote about in my post, Neglecting the Thinkers of the Past. What I referred to as "The Great Conversation" (borrowing Adler's terminology), the Rav referred to as "The Great Dialogue" and "The Great Mesorah Community." But his description is far more poetic and impassioned than anything I could ever write.

I will now present a transcript of the Rav's remarks. For the best experience, I suggest following along in the transcript while listening to the recording of the Rav's actual shiur (class), courtesy of YU Torah.

As a matter of fact, I want to tell you, and please don't, don’t misinterpret my words, I am not trying to brag or to boast, very far from it, but whatever I have said now is not just an idea. To me it's an experience. Let me say that the secret of mispar ha'doros (lit. "the number of the generations"), of combining, uniting, merging many generations into one community, where discrepancy of age disappears, where years play no role, centuries have no significance. Where generations, I mean, can, so to say communicate, commune with each other, I do experience every time I enter the classroom at the yeshiva. And I've been a teacher for the last, how many years? (other people speaking) Oy vey, I'm that old.

           

Whenever I enter the classroom which is crowded with boys, who could be as far as age is concerned, my grandchildren. I enter the classroom as an old man, I am old- with a wrinkled face and eyes reflecting fatigue and the sadness of old age. You have to be old in order to experience that sadness. It's a very strange sadness; it's the melancholy of remembering things, things which disappear, they don't exist. When I enter a classroom I sit down, and opposite me are rows of boys, young boys with beaming eyes, beaming faces, clear eyes, radiating the joy of being young.

           

Always when I enter, you know I enter in a very pessimistic mood, I always enter the class in despair. And I ask myself, I mean, every time I enter the classroom- can there be a dialogue between an old teacher and young students? Between a rebbe in his Indian summer and boys enjoying the spring of their lives?

           

I start the shiur, I don't know what the conclusion will be. Whenever I start the shiur, the door opens, another old man walks in and sits down. He is older than I am. All the talmidim (students) call me the Rav. He is older than the Rav. He is the great, the grandfather of the Rav; his name is Reb Chaim Brisker. And without whom no shiur can be delivered nowadays. Then, the door opens quietly again and another old man comes in, he is older than Reb Chaim, he lived in the 17^th century. What’s his name? Shabsai Kohen - the famous Shach - who must be present when dinei mamonos (monetary laws) are being discussed; when we study Bava Metziah, Bava Kamah. And then, more visitors show up. Some lived, some of the visitors lived in the 11^th century, some in the 12^th century, some in the 13^th century, some lived in antiquity - Rebbe Akiva, Rashi, Rabbeinu Tam, the Ra'avad, the Rashba, more and more come in, come in, come in.  Of course, what do I do? I introduce them to my pupils and the dialogue commences. The Rambam says something, the Ra'avad disagrees; and sometimes he's very nasty. Very sharp, harsh language he uses against the Rambam. A boy jumps up to defend the Rambam against the Ra'avad, and the boy is fresh - you know how young boys are fresh - so the language he uses is improper, he uses improper language. So, I correct him. And another jumps up with a new idea; the Rashba smiles gently. I try to analyze what the young boy meant, another boy intervenes, we call upon the Rabbeinu Tam to express his opinion, and suddenly a symposium of generations comes into existence.

           

Generations! Young boys - 22, 23, 24 years of age- there are boys who are just 18 years old that are in my class. One generation. then my generation, then the generation of Reb Chaim Brisker, then the generation of the Shach, then the generation of the Rashba, the Ramban, the generation of the Rambam, the generation of Rashi, the generation of the Rabbeinu Tam, and then, I mean there is no end! What about the Rav Hai Gaon? What about Rebbe Akiva, Rebbe Elazar, Rav Yochanan ben Zakai? All generations somehow…         

We all speak one language, “v'thi kol ha'aretz safah achas u'd'varim achadim” ("and the entire leand was of one language and unified principles" - Bereishis 11:1). We all chat, we all laugh, we all enjoy the company, and we all pursue one goal; we all are committed to a common vision, and we all operate in the same categories. There is mesorah collegiality, friendship, comradeship between old and young, between antiquity middle-ages and modern times, “v'hu ha'keitz” ("and that is the end/limit").

This unity of generations, this march of centuries, this conversation of generations, this dialogue between antiquity and present will finally bring the redemption of the Jew.

           

Let me tell you that at the conclusion of three and sometimes four hours, I mean I have here a witness, I emerge young and elated, younger than my pupils. They are tired, exhausted, some of them yawn. I feel happy. I have, I have defeated age; I have defeated oldness. I emerge young, less fatigued, less exhausted than my young pupils.

We belong to the same Mesorah community, where generations meet. Where hands, no matter how wrinkled and parchment dry one hand is and how soft and wan the other hand is, shake, unite, and in a community where The Great Dialogue continues. When I was looking at the baby who was redeemed this evening, I don’t know whether he will be in my class, whether I will live to have him. But someone will sit and teach the baby, and the baby is already a member of the community, of The Great Mesorah Community. And I feel as if I, it is possible to establish communication with this baby.

"Everything in This Class is About Reality!"

Originally published in January 2014. Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

"Everything in This Class is About Reality!"

A few years ago, in the middle of my Mishlei class, one of my 9th graders raised her hand and exclaimed, "I just noticed something: everything in this class is about reality!" I would describe the tone of her remark as pleased, surprised, and somewhat bewildered by the novelty of this realization. I wanted to write a short post to express a thought and a question sparked by this student's comment.

In an ideal world, students would view every class as being "about reality" - especially when it comes to limudei kodesh (Torah classes). The fact that this 9th grader felt it was an anomaly to gain insight into reality from one of her Torah classes is a sad commentary on the current state of Jewish education - and perhaps, the state of talmud Torah (Torah study) altogether. 

I am reminded of Chazal's "Mishlei Mishlei" (i.e. analogies about the methods used by Shlomo ha'Melech in his writings). I thought of this mashal in particular:

R' Yossi said: Imagine a big basket full of fruit without any handles, so that it could not be carried, till one clever man came and made handles for it, and then it began to be carried by the handles. So too, until Shlomo arose no one could properly understand the principles of Torah, but when Shlomo arose, all began to comprehend the Torah.

The main point of the mashal is to highlight the fact that Shlomo ha'Melech took a Torah that was unusable for most people and rendered it usable for everybody.

The explanation of this mashal is as follows. A big basket full of fruit is a wonderful thing, but if there is no way to move it then it will go to waste. Sure, an individual might be able to salvage however many fruits he can carry, but the majority of the fruits in the basket will have to be left behind. Picture a the farmer who has harvested his entire crop and loaded it up into crates. If he can move the crates, then he can take his fruit to market to sell and earn a living. But if he can't move the crates, then all but a small portion of his efforts will have been for naught.

The Torah is bountiful in its fruits. "It is a tree of life to those who hold fast to it, and those who support it are happy" (Mishlei 3:18). Nevertheless, Shlomo ha'Melech saw that the average Jew couldn't get a "handle" on the fruits of the Torah. That is to say, people were unable to use Torah in their everyday lives and reap the benefits that it has to offer. One might be able to keep the halachos of the Torah and appreciate the beauty of its ideas, but not be able to gain the perfection that those halachos and ideas were designed to facilitate.

Shlomo ha'Melech wrote Mishlei to help us bridge that gap - to make the ideas and values of Torah real to its adherents. How Mishlei accomplishes this is a topic for another discussion. Suffice it to say, Shlomo ha'Melech's method works. I have seen ample evidence of its efficacy in myself, my friends, and my students. The differences are apparent even after a few months of Mishlei learning. 

The question I'd like to leave off with is this: What obstacles stand in the way of students experiencing all of their Torah learning as "about reality"? 

I have a number of ideas - some of which I have written about (see list below), and some of which I intend to write about. But I thought it would be more productive to just state the question and hear what people have to say. Let me know what you think!

Here are some other posts I've written on or around this topic:

- Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

- Reflections of Truth

- Torah Study as Natural Discovery

Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

Originally published in April 2012 (not counting the updated social media references). 

Texting, Torah, and the Stamina for Immortality

The Technological Generation Gap

I heard a shiur by Rabbi AZ about this generation's unprecedented preoccupation with and dependence on technology. Smartphones, Facebook, texting, Snapchat, Instagram, and other forms of online/electronic social networking - the average teenager considers these things to be an indispensable component of his or her very being. Many of these kids cannot conceive of a life in which they are not constantly connected to their social circle via the various modes of technology. To some, the thought of giving up their phone is actually terrifying. 

Members of the older generations have a difficult time understanding this phenomenon. To them, the notion of being so attached to their cell phone is laughable, pathetic, and altogether mystifying. "What do you mean you can't live without your phone?" "Do you really need to be texting everywhere you go?" "How much time do you spend on YouTube anyway?" "Don't you want to spend time with your friends in person instead of communicating with them through typing?" These expressions of astonishment reflect a drastic disconnect with the direction in which the world is moving. 

Rabbi AZ believes that this new wave of technology will change (and is already changing) the way our minds and psyches work. Just as such changes have occurred with every major technological advancement in history (e.g. the agricultural revolution, the invention of the printing press, the industrial revolution), so too, the human psyche will be changed with the rise of the "information age." Rabbi AZ maintains that the driving force behind this change is the fact that we carry our technology on our bodies and are connected 24/7 (or 24/6, for Jews). This constant connectedness to our social circles and to the world is largely responsible for the change in how we relate to others and how we relate to ourselves.

Changes in Man

Some might challenge Rabbi AZ's assertion by quoting the words of Shlomo ha'Melech in Koheles:

Whatever has been is what will be, and whatever has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun. Sometimes there is something of which one says: "Look, this is new!" - it has already existed in the ages before us. As there is no recollection of the former ones, so too, of the latter ones that are yet to be, there will be no recollection among those of a still later time (Koheles 1:9-11).

"How can you say that things are changing?" one might ask. "Are you saying that just because we have new technology, the way that humans operate will change?"

The answer is that Shlomo ha'Melech was talking about the permanent nature of things - not the particulars, which clearly do change. Adler provides a good example of this distinction in Desires Right & Wrong: the Ethics of Enough (1991):

[We] must distinguish between primary natural needs and those that are secondary and instrumental. The primary natural needs are those that are inherent in human nature and so are the same for all human beings everywhere and at all times. Having a capacity for knowledge, man has a natural need for it. As Aristotle said, "man by nature desires to know."

To acquire knowledge, human beings do not need schools as now constituted and operated. At other times and other other circumstances, the need for knowledge was served by parental instruction, indoctrination and discipline by the elders of the tribe, pedagogues and tutors, and so on. There are many different means to serve the acquisition of knowledge by the young. At different times and under different circumstances, each of these different means may be required to implement the acquisition of the real good needed.

These secondary and instrumental needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that they are means for implementing needs that are natural. They themselves are not natural in the sense of being inherent in human nature and so common to all human beings everywhere and at all times.

Keeping this distinction in mind helps us answer the question often asked: "Do not natural needs change from time to time and with variations in the surrounding circumstances?" The answer is both no and yes. No, primary natural needs never vary. Yes, the instrumental needs that we call "natural" because they are needed to implement our natural desires, do change.

In our present society, people think schools are needed; that was not always the case. In our urban society, people think that public transportation is needed to serve the need to earn a living by those who live at a distance from their place of work. That was not the case in tribal life or in rural agricultural communities. Health is a primary natural need, but it is only in an environment being polluted by the effects of advanced technology that we now need, secondarily and instrumentally, environmental protection for the care of our health.

When the word "need" is used with reference to whatever may be needed to implement our natural desires, we must remember that, unlike our primary natural needs, the secondary instrumental needs are variable. New needs come into existence; needs that once existed disappear. Such variation in needs violates the sense of the word "natural" when it is applied to primary needs. The secondary needs can be called "natural" only in the sense that the goods needed to serve to implement genuinely natural needs.

Our growing dependence on recent technology falls into the category of "secondary instrumental needs." At its core, the human psyche remains the same, but changes in our secondary instrumental needs can trigger changes in our psyche and the way we view the world.

The Tragedy of the Vampire

As I listened to Rabbi AZ's shiur, I was reminded of a passage in Anne Rice's book, Interview with the Vampire (1974), which I am currently rereading. 

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 

The protagonist of the book is Louis. In 1791 Louis is transformed against his will into a vampire by another vampire named Lestat. The two of them subsequently transform a five year old girl named Claudia into a vampire, whom Louis grows to regard as his beloved immortal daughter. Louis and Claudia eventually flee from Lestat and travel to France where they encounter a group of "Old World" vampires led by the 400-year-old Armand. A series of sinister events leads to the death of Claudia and all of the other "Old World" vampires except for Armand. Louis and Armand band together as the sole survivors, and begin to develop a vampiric companionship.

Up until this point, the nature of this companionship has not been defined. It is only towards the end, when Louis is contemplating leaving, that Armand tells him why he needs a companion:

[Armand:] "You fear that, the isolation of it, the burden, the scope of eternal life."

[Louis:] "Yes, that's true, but that's only a small part of it. The era, it doesn't mean much to me. She (Claudia) made it mean something. Other vampires must experience this and survive it, the passing of a hundred eras."

[Armand:] "But they don't survive it. The world would be choked with vampires if they survived it. How do you think I came to be the eldest here or anywhere?" he asked.

[Louis:] I thought about this. And then I ventured, "They die by violence?"

[Armand:] "No, almost never. It isn't necessary. How many vampires do you think have the stamina for immortality? They have the most dismal notions of immortality to begin with. For in becoming immortal they want all the forms of their life to be fixed as they are and incorruptible: carriages made in the same dependable fashion, clothing of the cut which suited their prime, men attired and speaking in the manner they have always understood and valued. When, in fact, all things change except the vampire himself; everything except the vampire is subject to constant corruption and distortion. Soon, with an inflexible mind, and often even with the most flexible mind, this immortality becomes a penitential sentence in a madhouse of figures and forms that are hopelessly unintelligible and without value. One evening a vampire rises and realizes what he has feared perhaps for decades, that he simply wants no more of life at any cost. That whatever style or fashion or shape of existence made immortality attractive to him has been swept off the face of the earth. And nothing remains to offer freedom from despair except the act of killing. And the vampire goes out to die. No one will find his remains. No one will know where he has gone. And often no one around him - should he still seek the company of other vampires - no one will know that he is in despair. He will have ceased long ago to speak of himself or of anything. He will vanish." 

That is why Armand needs Louis. Armand senses that he is unable to connect to the present generation and is in danger of remaining frozen in the world of the past, which is quickly fading.

"I must make contact with the age," he said to me calmly. "And I can do this through you ... not to learn things from you which I can see in a moment in an art gallery or read in an hour in the thickest books ... you are the spirit, you are the heart," he persisted.

The Torah's Stamina for Immortality

The dilemma that confronts the vampire, as expressed by Armand, closely parallels the dilemma that confronts the teachers of Torah in the face of the changes in technology and society. Rabbi AZ concluded his shiur by calling attention to the fact that the educational methods employed by the guardians of the Mesorah (Torah tradition) must be adapted to this rapidly changing world. If the methods used by teachers clash with the mentality of the present generation, we risk alienating the modern Jewish teenager. Rabbi AZ said:

The question is: How can the method of learning Torah - how can the process of learning the methodology and the Mesorah - how can that transform from [the old way] to the new way that people think, the new way that they take in knowledge ... The old ways are fixed, and the people running the institutions are not 20 years old. They're 50 years old. They don't live in this kind of world. So the old institutions are made for different people. 

New changes in educational media are happening every day. Public services such as Google and Wikipedia have revolutionized the manner in which people seek out knowledge and information. Devices like the Kindle and iPad are threatening to replace the book as the medium of learning. Institutions like TED and Khan Academy are changing the way people educate themselves.

We have seen our Mesorah undergo many changes throughout the millennia of the Torah's existence: 

• The transition from having "direct access to Hashem" via Moshe Rabbeinu in the Midbar, to the implementation of an independently standing Torah-system in Eretz Yisrael. 
• The transition from the age of Nevi'im to the post-prophetic era. 
• The transition from a centralized, authoritative Sanhedrin overseeing the formulation and transmission of Torah she'baal Peh, to the fragmented educational organizations in galus. 
• The transition from a purely oral Torah she'baal Peh, to a limud Torah she'baal Peh that is anchored in writing: first in the form of the Mishnah, then the Sifra, Sifrei, Tosefta, and Braisos, then the Talmuds, and so on. 
• The transition from the "Geonic monopoly" of the to post-Geonic authority. 
• The transition psak that naturally emanated from learning the primary sources of Torah she'baal Peh to psak rooted in the written works of the poskim. 

Although the Torah itself is perfect and unchanging, these changes in our circumstances have made it necessary to adapt. For example, if Rebbi Yehuda ha'Nasi had not radically altered the model of teaching Torah she'baal Peh, then it would have been utterly lost. His decision to alter the manner in which Torah was taught and learned does not imply any lack of perfection in the Torah itself.

The sum of the matter is that the Torah does have the stamina for immortality, but in order to tap into that stamina, the teachers of Torah in every generation must adapt to the continually shifting reality of the present age. The guardian of the Mesorah must embody the spirit of Torah, but must simultaneously "make contact with the age." The teacher who fails to do this runs the serious risk of stultifying the Torah in the eyes of the contemporary student and endangering the entire chain of the Mesorah.

The Five Types of Dvar Torah

The Five Types of Dvar Torah

Whenever I read or hear divrei Torah, I tend to mentally classify them into one of five categories. I associate each category with a little image - like an emoji.

If I ever have to give my students an assignment which requires them to present or write a dvar Torah, I find it useful to provide them with these categories as guidelines. In my experience, many high school students are unaware that not all divrei Torah are created equal, and few of them are capable of sifting out the wheat from the chaff.

Here are the five categories, their definitions, and their associated emojis. 

Tier #1: Dvar Torah of Insight / The Light Bulb

The ideal dvar Torah contains at least one chidush (new insight) which we wouldn't have otherwise known.

Obviously, this classification is dependent on the level of the student. What is an obvious fact to one person might be an earth-shattering chidush to another. Still, the classification is useful, since divrei Torah are usually given with an eye towards a specific audience, and one can usually gauge what will be considered a chidush for that audience. 

Recent examples of Tier #1 divrei Torah on this blog include Megilas Rus: A Different Kind of Stinginess, Bruce Lee: On Lefum Tzaara Agra, and Torah Study as Natural Discovery, since all of these use the sources as their base line and aim to bring out a deeper understanding.

Tier #2: Dvar Torah of Information / The Set Table

The second-best type of dvar Torah is the informative type - one which doesn't necessarily yield a chidush or deeper understanding, but is still valuable insofar as it presents the facts in a manner that is clearer, more organized, or more complete than before. 

Recent examples of Tier #2 divrei Torah on this blog include Parashas Nasso: What's the Deal with Birkas Kohanim?, the first half of Parashas Shelach: What is Kareis?, and Parashas Balak: On Citing Midrash as Proof. These divrei Torah are basically presentations of pesukim and meforshim, without adding anything beyond the collation, organization, and clarification of the material.

Note that this classification is also dependent on the level of the student. What is a clear presentation of previously learned material to one person might be a treasure trove of chidushim for another. 

I will accept divrei Torah from my students if they fall into these two categories. I would also like to believe that all of the posts on this blog fall into these two categories. Although Tier #1 is higher than Tier #2 as far as the quality of learning is concerned, both are necessary. This is a fact I have to remind myself from time to time, when I feel pressured to only write Tier #1 blog posts. I mustn't forget how valuable Tier #2 can be.

The next three categories are those which I do not accept from my students, and which I hope I do not write on this blog.  

Tier #3: Dvar Torah of Fluff / Cloud of Fluff

"Fluffy" is a term I've heard people use to describe divrei Torah, but there are different definitions of "fluff." To my mind, there are two subcategories of "fluffy" divrei Torah:

The first type is a dvar Torah which contains nothing but clichés and banal platitudes, and doesn't actually teach us anything. I can't tell you how many divrei Torah I've heard from high school students which end with "lessons" like "And this teaches us that we should have emunah (faith) in Hashem," or "And this teaches us that Hashem is always there, behind the scenes" or "And that's why we should follow the laws of the Torah."

The second type of "fluffy" dvar Torah is one whose sole purpose is to give people warm and fuzzy feelings, and doesn't contain any intellectual content. I'm referring to the whole genre of inspirational tales, hashgachah pratis stories, and "Chicken Soup for the Soul"-style parables and pep talks. 

Don't get me wrong: I'm not saying that these types of fluff are without any value. There seems to be a lot of people who are moved and inspired by these kinds of things. My point is that these do not qualify as talmud Torah (Torah study). Being inspired is not the same thing as learning Torah, and a fluffy "Hashem loves you!" speech does not merit the status of "dvar Torah" in my judgment.

Tier #4: Dvar Torah of Stupidity / B.S. (Note: I don't use the term "B.S." with my students)

The second-worst type of dvar Torah that a person can give is one that conveys stupidity, nonsense, absurdity, and all of the other species of foolishness. Fluff, at its very worst, is neutral. But a Tier #4 dvar Torah is a bizui (degradation) to the Torah itself. 

I recently came across a dvar Torah which is a perfect representative of this category. The author raised a very good question: Why do we say the tefilah for the nullification of bad dreams during Birkas Kohanim? What does one have to do with the other. His answer? Because Birkas Kohanim is from the Torah, which is nevuah, and since a dream is one sixtieth of nevuah, then it's batel b'shishim (nullified in sixty)! And a further "support" for this answer is that there are sixty letters in the pesukim of Birkas Kohanim!

You can see how this goes beyond the level of fluff. The answer is not only useless, but it's also laughably inane!

One of the most popular kinds of divrei Torah in this category are the midrash-based divrei Torah given by the members of the Rambam's "First Group" - those who expound on the literal reading of midrashim, even if this leads them to believe absurdities and impossibilities.

Other sub-types include: divrei Torah which misrepresent the facts, divrei Torah which feature wildly undisciplined speculation and bad methodology to arrive at spurious conclusions, divrei Torah which showcase frivolous gematrias, divrei Torah in which a person force-reads his political views into the text, divrei Torah which are merely "fronts" for conspiracy theories,  divrei Torah which promote ideas that are contrary to Judaism, and so on.

Needless to say, there is a tremendous range within this tier, ranging from the innocuous "dumb pshat" all the way to the borderline of Tier #5. Speaking of which ...

Tier #5: Dvar Torah of Heresy / Poison

The absolute worst type of dvar Torah a person can give is one which goes against the yesodei ha'Torah (fundamentals of Torah), or leads people to embrace false and harmful beliefs.

In most cases these divrei Torah are given by people who don't know any better. They'll ascribe physical qualities to Hashem, or promulgate a warped understanding of reward and punishment, or present an idea as Torah which is actually some form of avodah zarah. When I was in high school a speaker from Israel came to recruit students to his yeshiva. He gave a dvar Torah about how the Torah's statement that Hashem took us out from Egypt "with a strong hand" should be taken literally. The students in the class weren't sure they understood what he was saying, so they asked him. He clarified his meaning: Hashem actually has a hand, mamash, and it's not a mashal. This might seem like a gross form of anthropomorphism, but it's no different than those who teach that there is a piece of God in all of us, or that God is in everything.

Another category of "poison divrei Torah" are those ideas which can harm a person's relationship with Judaism. When I first converted to Judaism I asked a rabbi what it means to learn Torah lishmah (for its own sake). He answered by telling me a story of a rebbe who wanted to learn Torah lishmah, so he only chose areas of Torah to learn which he hated, and which made him miserable, so that his motive for learning would be "pure" and "untainted" by his own enjoyment. Thank God I rejected this rabbi's answer at the time. If I had embraced "learning in order to suffer" as my ideal of Torah lishmah, that could have really messed up my love of learning.

The aforementioned example is quite tame compared to other examples I've heard. A very tragic example comes to mind. One of my students was told by her 4th rabbi that the reason why her classmate died of cancer was because she and her friends didn't daven hard enough. Whether this teacher intended to or not, my student got the message loud and clear: this death was YOUR fault. As a result, she was flooded with terrible feelings of guilt and trauma, and her relationship with Hashem and with Judaism suffered irreparable harm. Sadly, I'm sure there are many other cases of such educational abuse which go unreported.

There is another category of poisonous divrei Torah: those which are the result of deliberate lies. One example of this that sticks out in my mind is a dvar Torah I once heard in a popular Chasidishe style shtiebel in Brooklyn between minchah and maariv on Shabbos. and I had just learned through the Ramban on the mitzvah to obey the words of a navi. Lo and behold, during seudah shlishis, the rebbe of that shtiebel gave a dvar Torah on that Ramban. At first I was happy that he actually grabbed a Mikraos Gedolos off of the shelf and read and translated the Ramban aloud to his congregants. But then I heard something that horrified me: whenever the Ramban spoke of our Torah obligation "to obey the navi," this rebbe added in the words "to obey the navi and your rebbe." I couldn't believe my ears! Here was a man in a position of leadership pretending to read from the Ramban, distorting the yesode of nevuah, and inserting a self-serving message to boost his own authority!

One of the oldest categories of poisonous divrei Torah are those which are used as propaganda-tools to promote bastardizations of Judaism, such as Reform, Conservative, Karaite, Jews for Jesus, etc. Same goes for Christian and Muslim interpretations of our sources - at least, those interpretations which tamper with the fundamentals.

Concluding Thoughts

I'm not claiming that this taxonomy reflects anything other than the way my mind sees things. I'm sure there are others who view things differently, and who would object to my classification. That's totally fine. In fact, I would be interested in hearing your system of evaluating divrei Torah - especially if it helps my students to be able to distinguish between different grades of divrei Torah.

ת"ח stands for _____

Originally published in July 2013.

When you see the abbreviation ת"ח, how do you read it? I’d venture to guess that most people read it as "תלמיד חכם". And if asked to translate the term "תלמיד חכם" literally, I think most people would translate it as “a wise student” or “a learned student.” 

Well, it appears that the Rambam might differ.

If you've ever learned with me in person, you'll know I'm a big fan of the critical editions of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah. Although I am happy to use the Qafih and Mechon Mamre editions and have been known to occasionally use the Frankel, my personal favorite is the one-volume edition printed by Or Vishua.

One day I noticed something peculiar: none of these critical editions of the Mishneh Torah render ת"ח as"תלמיד חכם". Instead, all of them render it as "תלמיד חכמים". Apparently, that is what the Rambam held.

How should we translate "תלמיד חכמים"? Unlike the common translation of "תלמיד חכם", in which "חכם" is read as an adjective, the "חכמים" in "תלמיד חכמים" cannot be read as an adjective, since "תלמיד" is singular and "חכמים" is plural. The only viable translation of "תלמיד חכמים" is “a student of the wise.”

Personally, I prefer תלמיד חכמים over תלמיד חכם for a number of reasons. First of all, "תלמיד חכם" places the emphasis on the degree of intellectual perfection possessed by the individual (i.e. he is a “wise student,” as opposed to an “average student,” “simple student,” “foolish student,” etc.), whereas "תלמיד חכמים" emphasizes the activity which characterizes him. Who is a תלמיד חכמים? – Not a person who has attained a particular level of intellectual achievement, but one who is drawn to all חכמים in search of חכמה.

Secondly, "תלמיד חכם" refers explicitly to a single individual, but only alludes to that individual’s teacher (i.e. since "תלמיד" is a relative term which implies the existence of a "מלמד" - a teacher). On the other hand, the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" makes explicit reference to the student and his many teachers. I like this because it underscores the nature of the מסורה: each of us is a single student, drawing wisdom from generations of חכמים. I also like it because it highlights the mechanism of מסורה, namely, the teacher-student relationship in which each party broadens the mind of the other.

Thirdly, unlike "תלמיד חכם", the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" is reminiscent of the מצות עשה to cling to חכמים. Here is the Rambam’s formulation of this מצוה in the ספר המצוות:

We are commanded to cling to חכמים, to devote time to being with them, to continually sit with them, and to collaborate with them in any joint venture – whether eating, drinking, or doing business – in order that we may be influenced by them and emulate their actions and to become convinced of the true ideas contained in their words. This is the meaning of the statement, “You shall cling to Him (i.e. to Hashem)” (Devarim 10:20). This commandment was repeated in the statement “to cling to Him” (ibid. 11:22). [The Oral Torah] explains this to mean, “cling to חכמים and their תלמידים,” as was expressed in Sifre. Likewise, they brought a proof from “You shall cling to Him” that a person is obligated to marry the daughter of a תלמיד חכמים and to marry off his own daughter to a תלמיד חכמים, and to feed תלמידי חכמים, and to provide business for them. They said: “Is it possible for a person to cling to the shechinah? Isn’t it written, ‘For Hashem, your God, is a consuming fire’ (ibid. 4:24)? Rather, [this means that] if a person marries the daughter of a תלמיד חכמים, or marries his daughter to a תלמיד חכמים, or benefits him financially, it is as if he clings to the shechinah” (Kesubos 111b).

Similarly, the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" brings to mind many other teachings which emphasize the virtue of cultivating relationships with חכמים, such as “One who walks with חכמים will become wise, but one who befriends fools will be broken” (Mishlei 13:20) and “Let your house be a gathering-place for חכמים; sit in the dust of their feet and drink in their words with thirst” (Avos 1:4).

The אוצר ראשי תבות kind of covered its bases.

Does this mean that the "תלמיד חכמים" is the only correct phrase, or that something is wrong with "תלמיד חכם"? Of course not. Clearly, the phrase "תלמיד חכם" is more prevalent in Torah literature than "תלמיד חכמים". I also don’t know why I've only encountered this phrase in the Rambam’s writings and nowhere else. Perhaps the Rambam got the phrase "תלמיד חכמים" from the תלמיד ירושלמי, since it appears there, but doesn't seem to appear anywhere in the בבלי? If anyone has any explanations here, I'd be interested to hear them.

In any event, my intent in this post is to point out why, if I had to choose which phrase to use, I would choose the "תלמיד חכמים." The connotations of "תלמיד חכמים" carry more meaning for me than those associated with "תלמיד חכם". But to each his own!