On a Text and Its Meaning: A Continuation of the Previous Columns (Column 106)
With God's help
In the previous two posts I criticized some of the Hasidic studies that have become so widespread in recent years. Among other things, I argued that in quite a few cases these are concepts and statements lacking meaning and any clear sense. From my remarks, and even more from the discussion that developed in the comments, the question arose of the meaning of texts, how unambiguous it is, and accordingly to what extent one can speak of their lack of meaning.
The importance of these matters goes far beyond the discussion of Hasidism. In my view, the phenomenon of the new study of Hasidism is part of the postmodern New Age phenomenon, and one of the central problems with these phenomena is the absence of sense and meaning, cloaked in an aura of depth, creativity, and complexity (and therefore whoever objects—the typical Litvak—is portrayed as a fossilized, outdated conservative). Therefore it was important to me to clarify the matter further.
In this post I will collect, for the readers' benefit, the significant comments from the discussion that touched on the general question of the meaning of texts. I think the main points were explained in my responses (further detail would amount to a full theoretical treatise), and there is more in the discussions following the previous columns, so I will not add much here beyond citing the passages I selected. At the end I will summarize and add a few remarks.
Mario formulated the basic difficulty better than anyone else, and he writes as follows:
| I listen assiduously to Rabbi Miki's lessons, and there too I often read that the rabbi makes a statement and claims that "in some sense, it seems clear to me that…", and as the rabbi mentioned in the post itself, it is very hard to define basic concepts. In the end we all rely on "in some sense" (and of course it may be that one person will define something in a way that makes sense to him, and another person still will not understand what he is talking about). When does speech have meaning and when does it not? It seems, in the simple sense, that something has meaning when enough people understand it, even if a few do not…
The breadth of the Hasidic phenomenon seems to show that it has "some meaning," and even if some do not understand, that is no problem; but to accuse those who do understand of lacking sense seems somewhat subjective… The main point—there is no clear boundary between when something is well-defined and when it is nonsense; the boundary is when I understand. |
And I replied to him:
| Mario, it is clear that you both listen and understand very well. It is hard to imagine a better formulation than yours of the fundamental difficulty to which the discussion here leads. Your remarks are so sharp, beautiful, and important that I am now considering writing another post about them. For now I will address them briefly. |
Bottom line, your argument leads to the conclusion that it is impossible to criticize any claim or concept as meaningless. After all, something is always generated in the listener who hears them, and thus they have content and meaning. This is a broad and nonconstructive definition of the meaning of concepts and claims. It does not subject them to the test of critical thought, and therefore in fact empties them of meaningful content.
I claim that perhaps there is no sharp boundary, but nevertheless there are two sides to the boundary. As someone who listens to and reads me, you are surely aware of the Sorites paradox, which shows that even when the boundary is gray, there may still be two distinct sides to it (black and white).
My claim is that even if something is going around in the minds of the listeners, it is not well-defined, and/or it is something subjective not necessarily connected to the cognitive content intended by the teacher/writer. I assume that in such situations there is also no great connection between what is created in Reuven's mind and what is created in Shimon's, and of course not between either of those and what was in the teacher/author's mind. They received inspiration from the reading/hearing and something was formed in each of their heads, and precisely for that reason I prefaced my remarks with a definition of the concept of learning.
After all, anyone who read Alan Sokal's immortal article (see Wikipedia) surely thought about something while reading it. Does that contradict the fact that the article is nothing but a heap of nonsense (as its author testified)?! Would you refrain from criticizing that too because there is no sharp boundary? Would you have accepted the article for publication? This is the postmodern fallacy that infers from the fact that the boundary is not sharp the conclusion that there is no boundary (or that everything is subjective). But that is not so.
During sleep, while viewing a landscape, or while reading a poem, something also passes through my consciousness and thought. Does that mean that someone is teaching me something here? Only in a very broad and nonconstructive sense. Indeed, even in such situations insights are sometimes formed within me, but I am not learning them and no one is teaching them to me. Beyond that, those insights are not the meanings of the dream, the landscape, or the poem. That does not mean that any of the three has a sense, and certainly not that this is the sense (except in a very broad and nonconstructive sense). By the same token, if I say to you the three words: blah blah blah, something may pass through your mind. You may even reach a brilliant new insight. Does that mean I taught you something? Does that mean that that something is the meaning of the phrase "blah blah blah"? Only in a very broad sense, and therefore an empty and nonconstructive one. If you tell someone a logically contradictory statement, something will still be in his head. Does that mean a logical contradiction cannot be criticized as something empty!?
My claim is that learning and the conveying of content in learning must be subject to some relation between the original meaning of the text (invested in it by the writer/author) and what is produced in the reader. Not a causal relation (that this happens because of that) but a content relation (that this happens as a result of understanding that).
Mark this well.
Mario responded to this as follows:
| To Rabbi Miki:
a. It seems important to me that the rabbi write a post about this; it is a discussion that hovers above many of the claims the rabbi makes here. b. As for the matter itself, I am not arguing for inherent nihilism; nonsense is nonsense (though one can discuss the rabbi's view that there is no difference between a contradiction and a poorly formed sentence). I also agree that a gray boundary has two sides, but– I claim that with type b sentences, if I see that enough intelligent people make use of them, then perhaps I will understand that this is something I do not understand, but apparently it has a meaning (and perhaps even if I will never understand). There are enough people who read Wittgenstein and feel that he is less comprehensible than Job (and that is an achievement), but since one sees how people relate to him, the problem is probably with me and not with him…(It happened to me in one of the rabbi's classes that the rabbi claimed that something had no meaning and then defined it and claimed that now it had meaning, whereas I, the small one, did not understand the difference between before the definition and after it)… And on this, it seems to me, the dispute over Hasidism turns: the rabbi does not believe the Baal Shem Tov and R. Nahman that they understood what they were saying (from a philosophical-critical standpoint), as opposed to those who do believe them and will strive to find sense in their statements. To emphasize the point about trust in claims about the world, one can look at the topic of visual recognition for returning a lost object to a Torah scholar. This is something he will not be able to define (by definition, because then it would be on the basis of identifying marks), so it is also impossible to determine whether it is true or not true, and yet such boundary judgments are decided by trust. |
And I replied to him:
| I will certainly write a post about this, God willing. Briefly, here I will only say the following:
What you are suggesting is that I should examine myself to see whether perhaps others have insights and meanings that I missed. That is always right and good to do. The question is what to do after you have reached the conclusion that no: should one refrain from raising the criticism? Should one decide that by definition everyone is always right? For that reason, in post 105 I gave examples, and there one can discuss things more concretely. There you will see an example of a teaching by the author of Kedushat Levi whose concepts do have meaning, but I really cannot see what there is to learn there. And the fact is that many others apparently do manage. My conclusion is that they are deluding themselves, or creating meanings for themselves that are not in the text. A common phenomenon is that people who are not trained in sharp definitions and systematic thinking feel various meanings where they do not exist. Therefore, after examining the matter, there is certainly room to conclude that nonetheless this is nonsense or things entirely devoid of importance. As I have written repeatedly, I do not deny therapeutic significance, but that is not learning. Learning works through cognition. A Torah scholar's visual recognition is not a good example. There there is a way to distinguish that the lost object is yours, even if others do not see it. By the way, one could test this scientifically: place before him his object and another one and see whether he still distinguishes his own. In contrast, here we are dealing with something that is nonsense. There is a difference between something about which I have reached the negative conclusion that I do not see its meaning (but perhaps others will see it), and something about which I have reached the positive conclusion that it says nothing. You can see this through an experiment parallel to the one I described regarding lost property, if you create a text using an arbitrary text generator (Nadav Shnerb's site was already mentioned here above), and test whether people can tell the difference. It is clear to me that they will not (in post 105 I brought an example of homilies similar to that of the Kedushat Levi that I could generate, and they are entirely equivalent to his, although in my view they have no importance whatsoever). [By the way, the meaning of the Talmud is that visual recognition exists for everyone and not only for a Torah scholar. A Torah scholar is required only because of concern about lying.]
In the final analysis, these claims may be relevant as a warning that before one passes judgment and forms an opinion one should do so cautiously. But if they are presented categorically, they simply shut down all criticism, and that is unreasonable. If I do not merely say that I did not see meaning/importance but show by arguments that there is no meaning/importance there, the burden of proof shifts to the other side. |
I will add here another excerpt from an important comment that appeared on the site in a response by my friend Nadav Shnerb:
| Second, precisely note [2] on R. Levi Yitzhak is, in my view, the heart of the matter: it is clear that in the course of weaving this homily, the man made an embarrassing mistake (even if we say there is no connection between lighting constitutes the commandment ("lighting constitutes the commandment") and if it went out, one is not required to relight it ("if it went out, one is not required to relight it"), there certainly is no inverse connection either), and if so one thing is clear, namely that this is not a homily said with any kind of divine inspiration (by the way, I collect such mistakes among Hasidic rebbes and kabbalists; I have a few more charming examples). |
And to this I replied:
| As for the example of if it went out, one is not required to relight it, indeed there is something here of greater significance than I had thought. After all, it is clear that even if we draw the "learners'" attention to the fact that there is actually no such Talmudic statement, and that in fact the Shulchan Arukh makes precisely the opposite connection, nothing in this Hasidic teaching will collapse. This means that even if there had been such a Talmudic statement, it would have contributed nothing to the point, and the writer merely played with the Talmud (or with what he thought was in the Talmud).
This reminds me that when we worked on the logic of the inferential hermeneutic rules, we developed an algorithm that reaches the correct conclusion on the basis of combinations, of any order whatsoever, of kal va-homer (a fortiori), the two forms of binyan av (inference from a paradigm), and the refutations of all these. We did this while following the course of the huppah passage (Kiddushin 5a–b), and at each stage in the Talmudic discussion we tracked it and saw that our algorithm indeed gave the correct result. Then, at a rather complex and advanced stage, we got stuck. We had a table that represented a non-simple composition of kal va-homer, the common-denominator argument, and various refutations, and the answer we got was not that of the Talmud. We tried all kinds of ad hoc solutions (to change the model), but that itself was already irritating, because it meant that our model had an ad hoc component and did not really predict a priori the results of all the inferences. Bottom line, we were unable in any way to fit the model to this result, and so we already thought the whole project had gone down the drain. It did not work. We checked our data table again, and to our surprise discovered that we had made a mistake in copying one of the data. In one cell out of several dozen in the table there was a 1 instead of a 0, and that jammed us completely. The moment we changed it, everything worked smoothly. What this meant for us was that there was strong confirmation here for our model, since one can see that it is impossible to force it to give us an incorrect result even if one changes it by force. If changing the data changes the result univocally, that is confirmation of the model. By contrast, what happens in the discussion here about the teaching of the Kedushat Levi is exactly the opposite: one can change and even completely reverse the data (what is found in the Talmud), and nothing in the result changes. This means that it is not really a result of the data (= the Talmudic passages) but simply something the writer inserts with his own hands. The role of the Talmudic passage here is entirely fictitious. And that is precisely what I claimed. Indeed, an important remark. |
Bottom line, it is clear that here it is difficult to define things completely, and yet I do not accept the claims that for that reason rule out a priori any possibility of criticism. My claim is that in many cases the concepts and claims in these teachings have no sense. Sometimes this is literally a contradiction. In other cases there is a sense, but it is trivial. And even if it is not trivial, it is not necessarily Hasidic (see the previous column).
The conclusion is that, in order to show that there is a sense learned from some text, one must clarify the concepts (not necessarily by a definition at a formal level), make its claims explicit (preferably also present an antithesis), examine what evidence is brought for them (from sources and from reason), and see what they have added for us (what would we have thought initially, and what changed our mind, if at all). It is not enough to point to the fact that many people study this text and find sense in it. At most, that can be motivation for a more substantive search, but in the final analysis one's position toward the text should be determined by what that search turns up.
By the way, contrary to Mario's words, I do not equate a logical contradiction with vagueness. What I claim is that an ambiguous term or claim is also devoid of real sense, and therefore there is no point in studying it (except perhaps to read it and give myself over to its ministrations. In Hasidic language: to be a vessel for it). At most, they generate ideas in the mind of the reader/learner by way of inspiration (like contemplating a landscape or a dream), and that is not learning. When I speak here of lack of meaning, it appears in two senses (meanings?): a. lacking sense (mere words, empty verbiage). b. lacking usefulness (trivial, says nothing).
It is true that one should examine the matter carefully before passing judgment on it, but the mere fact that many people find meaning in it is no guarantee that such a thing is really there. As I explained, people who are not skilled in systematic thinking find meaning in many things, and they themselves do not always understand that this is only an illusion before their eyes, and that in fact we are dealing with empty verbiage (see Column 40 on feminist theology). They are also not always aware that the conclusion is not really learned from the text. Sometimes it merely inspired them and brought to their consciousness and thought the conclusion that had been obvious to them from the outset. They in fact enjoyed and found meaning in the text simply because its conclusion seems correct to them. But the truth of a conclusion does not say much about the argument that led to it.
In columns 52 and 65 I dealt with homily and pilpul (casuistic dialectics), and I explained there that a homily is a foolish and of course invalid argument that leads to a correct conclusion. I argued that this is what blinds people and prevents them from seeing the stupidity of the matter, and the fact that the conclusion does not arise from the data and the premises.
Instead of arguing about the matter on the theoretical level, I brought in the previous column examples that make it possible to discuss the things themselves. So far I have not seen anyone who has offered any proposal whatsoever (!!!) to rescue the words of the Kedushat Levi from the criticisms I raised about them. Is this mere coincidence? Why is everyone focusing on declarations that I am not necessarily right and that there are probably sublime meanings in every such text even if I do not understand them. I suggest that the defenders of Hasidism here try to offer such a proposal for discussion. That would be much more constructive than scolding me and raising ad hominem arguments about the greatness of the Rebbes and injury to an entire community of learners. I have no interest in hurting anyone, but I certainly do have an interest in clarifying the topic honestly.
I remind you that I also brought there several possibilities for expounding other Talmudic passages in countless ways, which are no less good than that of the Kedushat Levi (in my opinion, better, and with more connection to the Talmudic source), which means that this game is unnecessary and insignificant, at least on the level of learning, and in my opinion altogether.
By the way, some of the participants in the discussion agreed with me that this is a kind of game, but tried to justify it in various ways: the conclusions are true and important, it is a need of the common folk, and so on. To that I say that, in my view, if there are true conclusions, it is worthwhile to state them directly (especially if they are new), without hanging them on all sorts of baseless Talmudic nonsense. If the common folk want to engage in such childish texts—good for them. But in my view it is problematic to conscript the elites for the sake of the common folk, and to cause capable people to engage in texts meant to "save the wagon-drivers" and turn that into an ideology. Especially since those who engage in these Hasidic teachings nowadays are usually far from being common folk. In many cases they are intellectuals and people of ability, and from them I expect more. Although our sages have already said that there are inanities so bizarre that they can be heard coming only from the mouth of an intellectual.
In the next column I will continue the discussion of the meaning of texts, but to enrich and vary it I will enter into the definition of poetry and the relation between it and prose. After that it will be possible to think again, in a better way, about the characterization of Hasidic teachings on the continuum between poetry and prose.
Discussion
Hello Noam.
In my opinion, I fit the Sages’ definition perfectly well. One can also study aggadot (and even Hasidism, God forbid) if one does so in a serious and committed way. My claim is that experiential study is usually not study. By the way, study does not have to involve novelty (where did I write that study is the acquisition of new information?). Review and repetition, and certainly broad-coverage study, are fully-fledged study even by my definition. My claim was that when there is no transfer of information (not necessarily new information) from the text to the reader (which also happens in repetition), then this is not study.
The meaning in Shem MiShmuel is not as I understood it, but rather that the lighting constitutes the mitzvah, and not the mere existence of the flame, because in Judaism we believe in process more than in result. And as the Fathers said: “It is not upon you to finish the work.”
And regarding this it is said: “One does not refute a derashah,” because that is the way of homiletics in matters that are on the level of “hint.”
Are you sure you’re on the right site? What does Shem MiShmuel have to do with this? Or perhaps you mean Kedushat Levi? I didn’t understand whether you are proposing a new homily. Because I don’t see anything like that there. The expression “we in Judaism” is one I’m especially fond of. I understand that according to your approach there are no result-commandments at all (all commandments are action-commandments). Are you willing to stand behind that, or here too does “one not refute a derashah” apply (free translation: I’m not saying anything, so don’t ask me what I’m saying).
Heaven forbid, I’m not refuting the derashah; I’m only asking what on earth the derashah here is, and how it relates to our discussion.
The move is old. See Ibn Ezra’s criticism of Midrash Rabbah, “For the sake of Israel who are called first,” and what that Ramban answered on Bereishit.
In Shem MiShmuel you brought the homily about the meaning of “the lighting constitutes the mitzvah,” and “if it went out, one is not required to relight it.”
Indeed, there is here an appreciation of exertion regardless of the result. And here one can stand behind this conclusion: “According to the pain is the reward.” And regardless of the result. That result is a separate blessing from Heaven. “The Lord will complete it for me.”
“Homily” is a kind of modern art. It is not meant to be investigated with logical tools. Here the principle is: “grab what you can.” Don’t want it? Fine, then don’t! But the level of hint is part of PaRDeS.
It seems to me that all the messages here are Hasidic teachings. I have not been privileged to understand whether I’m on the right site and what any of this has to do with anything.
There is room for a general halakhic inquiry as to whether the object of the commandments is the action or the result. And likewise with transgressions, mutatis mutandis. But that does not pertain to the moral level of “the Holy One, blessed be He, does not count the pages, but the hours.”
We are receiving here words of Hasidism directly from the vacant void (and some say from the kelippah of Amalek). And I shall propose an interpretation of these words with the might of my hand’s dull strength.
Hanukkah 5713:
For this is that very skin of the serpent from the kelippah of nogah, in which good and evil are mixed together, as it is said: “and you shall be like God, knowing good and evil.” And this is the aspect of Reuben, concerning whom it is said: the lighting constitutes the mitzvah, and not like Simeon, who is from the aspect of the ear and is not the first of vigor but the aspect of the power of his power, which is the second power called vigor (as it is said: “my strength and the first of my vigor, excelling in rank and excelling in power”), and not as the aspect of “unstable as water” of Simeon and Levi, which as is known from the holy mouth of the holy elder from Anipoli is the clarification of the sparks of holiness from the donkey of Shechem’s father, which is the aspect of the side of the small beard, and this is enough for the wise.
Parashat Vayigash 5716:
For this is that very skin of the serpent from the kelippah of nogah, in which good and evil are mixed together, as it is said: “and you shall be like God, knowing good and evil.” And this is the aspect of Reuben, concerning whom it is said: placement constitutes the mitzvah, and not like Simeon, who is from the foundation of placement, which is the ear, and is not the first of vigor but the aspect of the power of his power, which is the second power called vigor (as it is said: “my strength and the first of my vigor, excelling in rank and excelling in power”), and not as the aspect of “unstable as water” of Simeon and Levi, which as is known from the holy mouth of the holy elder from Anipoli is the clarification of the sparks of holiness from the donkey of Shechem’s father, which is the aspect of the side of the small beard, and this is enough for the wise.
Parashat Miketz, Passover 5787 from the count of the years of chaos:
For this is that very skin of the serpent from the kelippah of nogah, in which good and evil are mixed together, as it is said: “and you shall be like God, knowing good and evil.” And this is the aspect of Reuben, concerning whom it is said: if it went out, one is required to relight it, for so we hold in all the decisors, and not like Simeon, who is not (and some say should read: who is) from the aspect of the ear and is not the first of vigor of the power of his power, and is distinct from the aspect of the second power which is called iniquity (as it is said: “Kiriath of the men of iniquity”), and not as the aspect of “unstable as water” of Simeon and Levi, which as is known from the holy mouth of the holy elder from Anipoli is the clarification of the sparks of holiness from Shechem son of Hamor, which is the aspect of the side of the great beard of Arikh, and this is enough for the wise.
And if you would say: When will the master come? When my wellsprings spread outward.
After examining R. David’s words, I am convinced that they were written in another language and translated by some Google site.
Therefore his messages are innocent of the charge of Hasidic teachings, God forbid.
And if I am mistaken, set me straight.
Our dear master Yosef, on the contrary, his teachings are Hasidic; the problem is with us, that we are unable to descend to the depth of his intentions and translate the words of Hasidism that he has bestowed upon us, except after sitting seven clean days and immersion in a mikveh.
This art too has its own rules. A black square in an app made by a little girl in kindergarten, which is material for a psychologist and a social worker, is not the same as “The Black Square” by the artist and painter Kazimir Malevich. Enough said. And much more could be said, and all this is obvious, and enough already 🙂
Rabbi Michi—
In several places here you wrote about the meaninglessness in the teachings of various Hasidic schools, yet I have seen in several of your books that you quoted passages from the Tanya as well as from other books that fall under this definition.
And likewise, what is the criterion for lack of meaning and understanding? Our ability to interpret and understand things differently from the way the preacher understands them. (I am asking generally, not specifically about the teachings you brought.)
Even today, when I study sugiyot in the Gemara and try to open books by the later authorities, sometimes I encounter explanations of the Gemara and approaches to the Rishonim that, in my opinion, are only accidentally connected to the plain sense, and the concepts could be explained in a completely opposite way (sometimes it seems that the author of the book wanted to write a certain novel idea and looked for some sugya on which he could write it). There are many approaches that see books of later authorities (on the Talmud) as homiletics that should not be included as study but rather as neglect of Torah.
Our rabbi is investing a huge amount of talent, knowledge, and energy in nothing. Any 14-year-old Lithuanian yeshiva boy will tell you that these things do not even require serious attention. This is one of the maladies of the religious-Zionist public, which is afraid of every opinion of someone whom Hasidim call “Rebbe.”
According to the rabbi, “study” is a process whose purpose and result is the addition of knowledge in the narrow sense – that is, additional information. Rabbi Avraham explains that expanding the concept of study so that every experience is “study” empties the concept of its content.
I am astonished that a thoughtful and profound person like the rabbi has fallen into such an uncharacteristic error. Indeed, expanding the concept of “study” so that it includes every stimulus that causes a biochemical change in the brain may (perhaps) empty the concept of its content, but does the conclusion necessarily have to be to narrow it so draconically, as the rabbi has done?
According to the rabbi’s narrow definition (from which he retreated somewhat in this column, see below), solving exercises in mathematics, for example, is not “study,” since it does not add any new information. Presumably this too is “therapy” according to the rabbi. Similarly, an intern in his years of training is merely “undergoing therapy” and hardly learning anything, since he already acquired most of the professional information during his years of theoretical study; and the same applies to an apprentice carpenter, who learns nothing during his apprenticeship years, and so on. In fact, even “experience” is not “study,” and there is therefore no difference between an experienced doctor and a beginning doctor if both have read the same books and acquired the same amount of professional information.
I cannot imagine that the rabbi would agree with the nonsense written in the previous paragraph, although to the best of my understanding they faithfully reflect the conclusions that follow from his definition narrowing the concept of “study,” and the proof is – in this column the rabbi has already retreated somewhat and admitted that “memorization” and “broad-coverage study” and the like are also “study.” But that is still not enough, and the rabbi’s definition remains too narrow. Clearly, adding information is “study,” but so is acquiring a skill (or improving it). The intern, the student solving exercises, the athlete, the violinist, and the pianist who devote hours to practice, each in his own field, are all “learning” – not in the sense of acquiring new information (at least not information that can be passed on in the form of a written text), and not even in the sense of “review” or “memorization,” but in the sense of improving their professional skills. One who accumulates information without acquiring the skill to use it properly is in the category of “even if he reads and reviews but has not served Torah scholars, he is an ignoramus” (Sotah 22a), for “Sinai and the uprooter of mountains – Sinai is preferable” (Horayot 14a), since information without the skill to use it properly has limited value.
Is an aggadic exposition of the Sages, or a Hasidic homily, or a mussar talk and the like “study”? According to Rabbi Avraham the answer is no, since there is in all these no addition of information. But if their purpose is the improvement of some skill (cognitive, religious, moral, or otherwise), then they certainly can be considered “study.” The question whether this is effective study is, of course, legitimate, but that is already a question on an entirely different plane. It may be that Hasidic homilies do not “move” Litvaks, just as playing etudes for many hours will not improve the pianistic abilities of someone with an uncircumcised ear. Such a person is advised to examine what skills he has a comparative advantage in and seek the proper ways to bring them to perfection. But there is no justification for disparaging the educational value of “therapies” that improve the skills of those with relevant talents. That is definitely “study.”
Hello.
My main claims are directed against modern experiential study. Incidentally, I also spoke about Hasidic teachings in general. But as I have written several times, there is certainly meaningful and serious Hasidic study as well, and I have more than once mentioned Chabad and the Tanya as examples (although even there, in my opinion, there is quite a bit of vagueness and a bit of a vacuum).
Obviously there can always be criticism and differences of opinion, but at the very least I expect a striving for truth as the interpreter himself understands it. In these teachings and these types of study there is no striving for truth at all. There is no commitment to anything except the vort (that is, to a correct conclusion, or at least a popular one). The argument is sometimes downright ridiculous, and so even a correct conclusion does not save it. I discussed this in column 52 here and mentioned it above.
With the later authorities on the Talmud, if I see someone who is not committed to truth (not merely someone I disagree with), I will say the same thing about him, and in my eyes that would be neglect of Torah. I do not think you will find even one such vort among the serious later authorities. And if so – it is merely an incidental and very exceptional case. Again, I am not saying they are always right or that I always agree, but I definitely think there is there a striving for truth and a commitment to the interpreted text. Not so here. People have a habit of disparaging anyone they disagree with, and so they fling at the later authorities the accusation that their words are just a vort. But that is only a manner of speech for saying they disagree. Here, however, these really are vorts in the most negative sense of the word.
After all, I brought here examples of several parallel homilies that I could have made, like the Kedushat Levi. So what is the point of doing such childish things? Again, even if the conclusion is correct (that one must serve with enthusiasm – and as I said, I doubt this, at least in the way he presented it), the argument that leads to that conclusion (on the basis of the Talmudic passages) is downright childish.
I am astonished by a gentleman who puts words in my mouth that never entered my mind, and then goes on at length attacking them. See my response to Noam Oren above.
I am not particularly impressed by what a 14-year-old Lithuanian yeshiva boy writes and thinks. Nor do I share the sweeping opinion you presented here. Some of the learners I am talking about delve far more deeply than the Litvaks who criticize them for pennies. Those Lithuanian boys and their teachers as well often hold nonsense that would embarrass even the greatest Hasidic masters.
Beyond that, this is not about being afraid of someone’s opinion, but about studying his words and extracting pearls from them (which sometimes are not there). Criticism too, even harsh criticism, must be done with arguments.
Sorry, instead of “Hasidim” it should read “Hasidim”..
I followed the recent posts, and all the “commotion” is about nothing. Did you really “discover” something new, and only now have we all, like shell-shocked Michi, discovered that Hasidic teachings are not coherent and are not really interpretive, and depend almost without any real connection on the Talmudic text they expound? Only now have we learned that they do not come to interpret the Talmud like Rashi and Rashba, but to convey an idea the Talmud certainly did not have in mind? Who on earth thought otherwise?!
Of course, all these homilies are merely hanging the homiletic idea on “de-lo tanyah,” that is, just finding for it a hint and support, nothing more. The same is true of the derashah of the Sages that you cited on “the rulers said: Come to Heshbon.”
Clearly the Sages knew this was not peshat but aggadic derash (as opposed to halakhic), and the Hasidic preacher follows in their footsteps(!), attaching a message and content that he wants to convey to his listeners and hanging it (sometimes without great success, it must be said) on the sacred Talmudic text. He is not trying to say that this is what Ravina and Rav Ashi meant.
The Rebbe saw a need to increase enthusiasm and joy in the performance of commandments, particularly in the lighting of Hanukkah candles; he said a derashah that caused his Hasidim to become enthusiastic about the commandments, and he attached it without any real interpretive connection to the sugya. Nothing more.
I don’t understand what people want from you. Obviously this is not study. It is the soul’s arousal.
All this preoccupation around this discussion (already 3 columns) with not defining Hasidism as Torah study – that is a very inaccurate title altogether.
Because the subject is study. And study can only be like a strategist presenting a strategy. And as in strategy, all possibilities are open.
Someone who studies Hasidism studies a structure of things. Even if the things themselves are foolish and contradict one another. The concept is not just a collection of sentences that are passed into an analytical laboratory.
I agree that this is minor and marginal study, but it is something.
Someone who learns a language is also learning something even if he can learn it wrongly.
Knowing something mistaken is also knowledge.
I once read an article by the rabbi about “these and those are the words of the living God.” The truth can be both Beit Shammai, who forbid, and Beit Hillel, who permit. And both are correct. The truth that says the egg is forbidden also says to the same degree that the egg is not forbidden but permitted. (The parable about the mountain that a person sees from the side. Or light through many transparencies.) However the understanding may be, that is the conclusion.
And if the Raavad and Rambam dispute one another, and this contradicts that from Gemara and from reasoning, and it is clear to all that both are Torah study.
Every dispute between tannaim, between halakhic decisors – is only one thing correct in every sugya?
The Torah is deeper than the sea. It is not only logical analyses.
Of course, that is the dominant part for a person who studies Torah. But the Hazon Ish once said that however great a person may be, the Torah will still be greater than him.
David, are you sure you read what I wrote? For three columns already I have been explaining this, and apparently even that is not enough.) I did not write that this is not study because it involves errors. On the contrary, I stressed that I say this even if a considerable part is not mistaken (for example, Kedushat Levi saying that one should serve with enthusiasm – the problem is not that he is wrong). The problem is that there is no process of study here.
A. I’m afraid I missed a few things during the discussion; I’d be glad if the rabbi would sharpen the point—
What is the discussion about? At first (post 104) I understood that the discussion was about the meanings of Hasidic teachings and whether it is possible at all to study *them*. In your examples you attack the Hasidic teachings with Talmudic-analytic questions that confront them with the Gemara, and show that *they* are not study (of the Gemara), and in this post the rabbi danced at both weddings…
If the rabbi could focus the issue: is he claiming that the *teachings themselves* are not study (because they are not trying to learn the Gemara’s intent in a quest for interpretive truth), or is he claiming that one cannot *study them* (because they lack meaning, and to that my comments were directed), or that one can study them but *the existential type of study is not study* (and with that I agree wholeheartedly)?
My comments were directed at the rabbi’s claim (which appeared in the first post of the latest trio) that Hasidic teachings have no meaning (as also feminist theology does not), claims the rabbi has been making for some time (for example against “tzimtzum is not to be taken literally,” the rabbi’s well-known claim “if everything is a dream, who is dreaming?!”).
If indeed the discussion revolves around the meaning of the teachings, I have more responses, but in light of the comments and the direction of the discussion in the last two posts I lost confidence that I understood the framework of the claims…
You didn’t lose it. I am making several claims:
1. The Hasidic teachings themselves often suffer from vagueness of concepts and claims, and then it is impossible to study them because there is nothing to study. But of course there are teachings for which this is not so (though many of them are not Hasidism, like the Shem MiShmuel in the previous post).
2. Sometimes the Hasidic teachings themselves perhaps do make meaningful claims and use meaningful concepts, but they do not themselves derive their claims from the sources (such as the Talmud) but rather play with them, like the Kedushat Levi.
3. Modern (or postmodern) existentialist study is not study, even when it is done with respect to a teaching that it is possible to study (and people here have already pointed out that the Hasidim themselves do in fact study them seriously and not in the experiential way found in modern-experiential batei midrash).
Excellent, thank you for the clarification.
Just a note regarding 1 (I fully agree about 2 and 3) that will complete my quoted statements—
There are Hasidic teachings that come to represent a certain spiritual reality (usually kabbalistic). In that case there are times when the reality presented will be vague simply because there is no way to represent it well in language; the concept will not be defined because it is a concept that cannot be defined. I’ll give an example: I hear music and identify the artist. There are artists whose every piece I can identify, even though I will never be able to define why this piece is his and that one is not (a kind of intuitive recognition, and I would even pass tests on it). I will never manage to define the thing, so it remains vague; and someone who has never heard music or has no musical sense obviously will not believe me, but I am still making a claim about reality. (This connects to the example the rabbi often brings about the two people who saw an empty room, sat at the entrance, and afterward one went in and saw the room full; surely he will believe himself even if he cannot explain it to the other person.) It seems to me that so too with “tzimtzum is not literal” (and in general with vague kabbalistic-Hasidic descriptions of worlds): the rabbi/kabbalist, visionary, prophet, or guru is trying to describe in language what he saw. No matter how much you challenge him, what he saw was that the tzimtzum is not literal, or at least that is the best way he has to describe it. Whoever understands it, understands; whoever does not – probably has no musical sense. That is why I said above that from this perspective, regarding when such claims have meaning and when they do not, the criterion is either when I understand, or my trust in people, or the number of people who understand (and I mean the number of intelligent people who understand; there is no doubt that the rabbi is right that most people are no criterion at all on this issue). And therefore the argument will revolve around whether there is enough probabilistic evidence that I am the one lacking the sense here, or whether there is not and they really are speaking nonsense (or hallucinations).
Regarding the attribution of teachings to the Hasidic movement: the rabbi claims that many teachings are trivial and did not need the Baal Shem Tov for their revelation. It seems the rabbi sins a bit through excessive analyticness. While I agree that jargon and style do not constitute attribution, and if a thing has meaning then it has meaning regardless of whether it is Hasidic (or postmodern), from here to saying there is none (in the postmodern case) or that most do not (in the Hasidic case) is a bit exaggerated. Clearly there are directions of thought and topics of discussion that move and change throughout history. Obviously nothing in the mind of Rambam or Rav Saadia Gaon was different from ours (at least not qualitatively, perhaps quantitatively), and still it does not seem to me that they would have understood Descartes’ skeptical move (for example) – not because they were stupid, but because they would have claimed he was an idiot. Their form of thought and their self-evident assumptions would not have allowed them to understand. (About skepticism one can read Rav Saadia in Emunot VeDeot, Ma’amar 1 ch. 3, the 13th opinion; there it is clear that he did not “understand the rules of the game.”) The whole move of directing kabbalistic motifs and structures toward the human body and soul is a Hasidic move – not because it could not have been understood before, but because historically that is their innovation. (I recall the rabbi’s criticism of Yuval Noah Harari for ignoring causality and influence; it seems the rabbi is going somewhat in that direction.) The fact that it would have been possible to formulate some of the ideas considered postmodern already in the 18th century may be true, but there is a reason they were not formulated then, and likewise with Hasidism. When one says a teaching is Hasidic, one means that it uses Hasidic motifs and the innovative directions of thought first formulated and organized by the great Hasidic masters…
I have the same feeling as the rabbi with most Hasidic books, which are built in the form of vorts on the weekly Torah portion… because these are really books of homiletics… There are also non-Hasidic books that are books of homiletics (such as Ya’arot Devash and many others)…
They have some simple underlying assumption (to serve God with joy, self-sacrifice, cleaving to God), and most of it is making derashot connected to that idea… In fact, some information is being conveyed, but it is astonishingly simple and unreasoned…
However, there are some where the underlying assumption of the homily is more developed in the book… and if you remove the homiletics, you can extract treatment of topics and reasons concerning them, even though they are not written in an orderly way… (Such is the Sefat Emet, in some of its passages that can be collected. Likewise the homiletic books of Chabad. The Maharal also goes somewhat in the direction of homiletics, but one can extract explanations on many subjects. And likewise “Midbar Shur” of Rav Kook, and also the famous Ein Ayah, which is really a book of homiletics on sayings of the Sages, but in each section there is information and a clear conclusion developed through most of it.)…
By contrast, Hasidic books (the few) that are organized by topics and not by homilies do not have the defects the rabbi described. The most famous of them is the Tanya (and many Chabad discourses on topics are of this sort); so too some books of R. Tzadok HaKohen…
They contain a “Hasidic innovation,” things not found in earlier books, or at least not sufficiently developed, such as a special understanding of the structure of man, moral guidance, inquiries into divinity, and more. But they deal with a topic and therefore convey information, and not with homilies..
(As is known, R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi and R. Tzadok HaKohen were Litvaks before they came to Hasidism. And that leaves an impression. But one cannot regard these books as Lithuanian books in disguise. In fact, many books of “thought” and “mussar” among the Litvaks are like this as well.)…
So in fact what the rabbi writes really applies to “books of homiletics.”
Admittedly, in the Hasidic movement it developed more (and one must understand why). And perhaps this is the most common kind of study in the religious-Zionist public (and one must understand why). But it is not unique to the study of Hasidism.
I partially agree. In books of homiletics there is usually some sort of commitment to the text, and even if they depart from its plain meaning one can still see this as some interpretive plane.
As I wrote, pilpul is an art, and even if it is not necessarily Torah study and even if there is distance from the line of truth, it has some order and method. The concepts, too, are usually defined, and the claims fairly sharp.
Beyond all this, books of homiletics are not engaged with in this way. At most, people read a bit in their spare time. There are no mass, intensive classes on books of homiletics. On the contrary, the genre is completely dead. But Hasidic books are perceived differently, and not only in religious Zionism but also among the Hasidim, and so there is reason to clarify this in their regard.
There is a website called “The Ninth Notebook.” It generates texts from a linguistic database of Rav Kook so that they come out as relatively reasonable sentences, but the content is completely meaningless.
It seems its creator did this in order to show the hollowness of Rav Kook’s words, and that only the beautiful language that wraps them gives them charm.
And indeed many people read Rav Kook with great enjoyment, and it is not clear at all that the content of the text is clear to them.
Does the rabbi identify with the claim that Rav Kook wrote contentless texts in beautiful language only?
I do not know that site, but there is a text generator (including for Rav Kook) on Nadav Shnerb’s site. I think Rav Kook wrote things with meaning. The problem is that the average reader, who is not accustomed to his writings, finds it difficult to decipher them, and he may get confused by the artificial texts. I think his skilled readers will hardly get confused (though it is difficult to test this empirically, because they usually know all his texts).
One must remember that such a generator can create a text that really does have content. The imitation of the style is combined with imitation of content.
It is true that those who read him and can get confused are apparently not “studying” his writings.
I now saw that it does this there also for Rambam (and for Herzl too). Rambam is not suspected of writing “poetry.”
Hello,
Above, in your reply to Mario, you summarized your claims in 3 points.
1 – In some Hasidic teachings there is vagueness of concepts and definitions that uproots any study of them, and my question to you is: is it not possible (as you wrote above regarding the text generator on Rav Kook’s writings) that there is study that requires familiarity with the material beyond the content appearing before your eyes? Or more than that, there is study that requires emotional rather than intellectual connection in order to understand it. Could it be that a Hasid who studies the book Kedushat Levi and is fully versed in all its content understands the concepts studied there? In Chabad there is a saying that one who is not a Hasid cannot fully understand the Tanya. In my opinion, what this means is not understanding the text but an inner connection that adds clarity to the material being studied. Even when I sometimes open writings of the mussar masters, I cannot understand the content of what is written and feel that there is here no more than a very unnecessary pile of words. In short, my claim is that there is an understanding of content that depends on a broader framework.
2. Regarding the claim that Hasidic homily is not learned from the sources but plays with them. You also claimed that you do not see a striving for truth in Hasidic homilies (regardless of whether this is defined as study). I am really trying to understand where this conclusion comes from. I read almost all your columns and comments, and all I saw were claims that could also be made about books of homiletics and also about books of later authorities on the Talmud (where too the learned content is not understood and can seem completely senseless to one who is not versed in the mysteries of the conceptual distinctions on the Talmud). Above, when I asked you about this, you answered that you do not see in Hasidic books a striving for truth. In my opinion, this is a personal claim of yours, that this is how you see things, but there really is no general objective claim here.
3. Regarding the issue of modern experiential Hasidic study. Assuming you are right, so what if this is not defined as study? In the world of mussar too, the mussar masters held mussar groups and devoted time to thinking about correcting their character traits. Does this not have value, assuming it elevates a Jew in study and prayer? Your assumption that this has no value once it is not defined as study – is there no importance to engagement in the service of God even when it does not revolve around educational content?
Thank you
Hello.
1. It is possible. I think I know enough (even if I am not an expert) of the Hasidic genre to at least smell whether there is any “meat” in it beyond the manifest verbal layer. In the passage from Kedushat Levi, in my estimation, there is not. It is indeed true that various feelings and insights can arise among learners, and that is what I called a benefit that does not come by way of study (like being impressed by reading a poem or viewing a landscape). I think that if one accepts such a form as study, then everything is study (and therefore nothing is study). Anyone who has an emotional connection to something will always derive something from it (cf. a poem, etc.).
It seems to me that with Rav Kook, after one explains to the unskilled reader what is being discussed, he too will admit that there is content and message there (even if he does not agree with it). Not so with a teaching like that of the Kedushat Levi (in my assessment. The fact is that I have been waiting for some time already, and no one has taken up the challenge and tried to explain what is actually being said there).
Sometimes a person who feels he derived insights because of a connection will also admit, upon retrospective analysis, that these were not insights from the text itself, but rather that only because of his esteem for the author and the text he thought he had learned something from it. After conceptual clarification and analysis of the claims, he can admit that there is almost nothing in what he “learned.”
2. Someone here already remarked on books of homiletics. There is something to that (the Hasidism I am talking about is a homiletic genre), but I nevertheless wrote to him that I do not entirely agree. In homiletic literature there is internal logic (even in things that do not seem true), and there is a logical commitment to internal consistency. It is hard to draw the line, but in my opinion there is, broadly speaking, a difference.
As for the later authorities on the Talmud, I really do not agree, as I wrote to you. I would be glad for an example (one that makes no pretense of speaking to the text itself but merely hangs itself on it – not simply an interpretation you disagree with or even think is stupid).
As for the claim that this is only my way of looking at things, I am willing to accept that if someone comes and shows me another way of looking that will prove me mistaken. Otherwise nothing can be criticized and everything is study.
3. I have already been asked this here several times and answered. This is the therapeutic value I spoke of. It is legitimate, but it is not study. If a passage like the above Kedushat Levi helps someone (apparently his condition is truly difficult), then by all means he can engage in it. Turkish baths or healing springs also help some people very much to clear the mind and soul. By the same token, one can take a pill or study mussar, just not recite the blessings over Torah on that. These are preparatory aids for the mitzvah of serving God, not Torah study. Here we return, of course, to the mussar controversy. But the dispute is not only about the blessings over Torah. My claim is that for one whom this does not help, it is a shame for him to engage in it (even if it is a good experience for him and he has marvelous feelings of depth. In my opinion this is usually an illusion, and in fact he learned/derived nothing at all apart from a pleasant pastime suited to his questionable taste). He should examine whether he actually learned something from it or whether it is just an experience. If he is capable, he should study Torah – that is better. Of course experiences also have their place, such as going on a trip, visiting an exhibition, seeing a film, or hearing a lecture about Tibet. A person needs to air himself out from time to time.
I would be glad if the rabbi could also address existentialist/continental philosophy
in greater detail and perhaps with examples.
You wrote only briefly about those philosophies in the previous post:
“Various thinkers, mainly continental ones (Levinases and other creatures, mostly French), befuddle us with similar statements that say nothing except subjective descriptions of experiences disguised as philosophical claims. No wonder they too are enjoying a revival among students of Hasidism, who greatly enjoy combining Torah (which is not Torah) with wisdom (which is folly) and creating from them one great nonsense.”
I think that here a person will say that just as he loves his wife, this is indeed a psychological thing and perhaps vague at the level of definitions, but clearly there is something “real” in that love.
Objectively, it may be that his wife is not the very best, and telling that loving person, “you are only describing your psychology,” will not move him from his view, because he is in an existential dialogue with his wife/God.
What interests me is whether one can even come out frontally against this approach, or whether one simply has to say, “these are different games, and if he is not playing the same game there is no way to decide.”
In short, I would be glad for some treatment of the philosophy involved in this whole discussion.
Hello Peleg.
At the moment there is no time to write in detail about those philosophies, to analyze them and bring examples. Perhaps in the future when I have leisure, and perhaps after I finish the matter of poetry that I am dealing with now (it is really the natural continuation, together with a return to the discussion of studying Hasidism. Altogether it is very similar).
I do not know what “real” means. Let everyone do whatever his heart desires. Such excuses have already come up here and in the previous column, and I have already written that they neutralize the possibility of criticism, and I do not see any point in discussing them.
Indeed, they neutralize any possibility of criticism, but as a person considering whether to let this path “break through,”
what interests me is why you do not hold these views? After all, you understand what they are talking about when they liken love of a woman to existential experiences – for example, the experience of God. (In your terminology perhaps one could say that the experience is a strong intuition.)
Do you see value only in what is open to severe criticism?
Are there not things in our lives/your life that simply feel right (in existential language – you are in dialogue with them)?
Of course the discussion will not move someone who is “in love,” but the discussion is important for someone sitting on the fence.
In any case I would indeed be very glad if you do find time to write about it after the poetry.
I have already written here several times that I am not speaking about the value of these things (which can be debated) but about whether they are Torah study (and about that, in my opinion, one cannot debate). This is not a different game within the framework of Torah study, but therapy as opposed to study (that too is a game, but a different one). Belly dancing is also a game that some people are fond of. Does that make it Torah study? This is of course more than just an allusion to Wittgenstein’s language games, and this is not the place to elaborate.
I read the 3 columns about Hasidism and was left with two questions. A. Is an incorrect interpretation of the Gemara not considered Torah study? Because if so, it turns out that we waste hour after hour without knowing it (apparently a large part of our conceptual explanations were not the Gemara’s original intent). In other words, why is an incorrect interpretation by Hasidism of the words of the Gemara not study, if in the end it is done as part of an attempt to give an explanation of the words of the Talmud?
B. I do not think you gave a definition of what Hasidism is before criticizing it, or made a clear distinction between Kabbalah and Hasidism.
A. Hasidism is not an incorrect interpretation of the Gemara. It is not interpretation at all. Just idle chatter and vorts unrelated to the Gemara. And if it is related, then usually to aggadah.
Incorrect conceptual explanations of the Gemara are Torah study because you are trying to understand and interpret the Gemara. By the way, I do not know why you have such low self-esteem. I really do not think a large part of our conceptual explanations are incorrect.
B. There is no need to define Hasidism. It is a defined corpus of books and compositions.
You yourself wrote that things which have logic and substance are not Hasidic teachings even though they were written by a Hasidic author. In other words, the collection of books and writings is not enough to define Hasidism; rather there is a more essential distinction here, only you did not define what it is.
I think there is a central criticism that has not yet been discussed here.
When dealing with the analysis of concepts, such as “Torah study,” one can do one of two things – either analyze an existing concept or provide a new definition that may be useful.
It seems to me that here you were dancing at two weddings. On the one hand, you gave a new definition to “study” – the acquisition of new information. This is an interesting and useful definition, but it is completely clear that this is not an analysis of an existing concept, since the Sages’ intention when they used the phrase “Torah study” was entirely different, because they certainly would have included the whole world of aggadah and homiletics, which you disqualified in the previous post.
And yet, although you chose the second option of giving a new definition to an existing concept, you then impose that same meaning on the commandment itself – something that is clearly contrary to the tradition of the Sages.
If so, you need to decide – either you are redefining a concept, in which case nothing can be inferred from it about the parameters of the commandments and the expressions that appear in the words of the Sages, or you are analyzing an existing concept, in which case it is quite clear that your analysis is wrong, because this is not how the overwhelming majority of Jews, today or in the past, understood the concept of “Torah study.”
I would be glad for clarification on this matter.