Purpose, Method, and Character of Study

Table of Contents

• The Zoom framework and an online beit midrash
• Why study Torah, and where the chain of “why” stops in an axiom
• Study as an intrinsic value and not as a means
• Nefesh HaChaim, Hasidism, and cleaving to God as the very act of engagement
• “Speak of them for their own sake,” “expound and receive reward,” and the blessing over Torah
• Two aspects of Torah study: studying and knowing
• Women, studying in order to practice, and the distinction between a commandment and a means to a commandment
• “Great is study, for it leads to action” and bringing a discussion to a halakhic conclusion
• Analytic study and breadth, yeshiva as preparation, and stories of Rabbi Chaim Kreiswirth and Rabbi Michel Zilber
• Sinai and uprooting mountains in an age of accessible information
• The example of “this one benefits and the other does not lose,” and conceptualization in analysis
• An analogy to philosophy of science and the process of back and forth
• Later authorities and medieval authorities, and the halakhic conclusion as the end product
• “The glasses of Torah” and the transmission of tools of thought through tradition
• The canon of Torah: Torah in the object and Torah in the person
• Ponevezh and Slabodka: patterns, independence, and proper staging
• The story of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky and internalizing a mode of analysis
• An explanation for someone who doesn’t feel it “just like that”
• Conclusion and a blessing for the community in Paris

Summary

General Overview

The speaker opens the study year and proposes a view of Torah study as a foundational value that does not require external justification, because every chain of “why” ultimately stops at an axiom. He cites Nefesh HaChaim (Gate 4) to argue that Torah study is not a means to a religious experience, but itself constitutes cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, and he grounds the idea of “speak of them for their own sake” in the Rosh on tractate Nedarim. He emphasizes that studying in order to know practical Jewish law is an important but instrumental need, whereas Torah study for its own sake includes both the act of engagement and comprehensive knowledge, and this is capped by the demand to bring the discussion to a conclusion in accordance with Jewish law as the structure of learning, not as turning practice into the supreme goal. Throughout, he criticizes the disconnect between analytic study and Jewish law, sharpens the centrality of analytical skill in an age of accessible information, and outlines an educational path that begins with strict patterns and only then builds independence, while discussing the boundaries of the canon of “Torah” and how to address someone who does not feel this “just like that” as self-evident.

The Zoom framework and an online beit midrash

The speaker asks people to stay on mute to avoid interruptions and explains that anyone who wants to speak can press the space bar. He describes Zoom as a “place” in the sense that the internet creates sites that are also places, and therefore it is possible to experience a shared beit midrash even without physical presence. He argues that the reality of online batei midrash and synagogues is something that would have been hard to imagine fifty years ago, but today has become entirely understandable.

Why study Torah, and where the chain of “why” stops in an axiom

The speaker argues that the question “Why study Torah?” necessarily assumes an external justification, but any such justification leads to an infinite chain of “why” until one stops at a basic value beneath which there is no further explanation. He distinguishes between an arbitrary “just because” and an essential “just because,” where the value is basic and therefore is not explained by something deeper than itself. He suggests that the value of Torah may be a basic religious axiom, and therefore the answer to the question “why” can be “just because” in that essential sense. He adds that it is hard to find a good justification for Torah study if one is looking for external utility such as sharpening the mind, because there are other fields that sharpen the mind no less, and perhaps even more.

Study as an intrinsic value and not as a means

The speaker argues that once Torah study is presented as a means for achieving some other goal, its meaning as an end in itself is lost, whereas the tradition treats it as a purpose. He explains that if Torah study is a goal, then one should not expect an external explanation for it, and this only seems strange to someone who already assumes that there must be a justification outside the act of study itself. He emphasizes that the question is not whether study is useful, but whether its religious value depends on an external result or stands on its own.

Nefesh HaChaim, Hasidism, and cleaving to God as the very act of engagement

The speaker quotes Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim (Gate 4), who presents a Hasidic conception of study as a means to cleaving to God, and criticizes it on the basis of a midrash about King David, who asked that the recitation of Psalms be considered like engagement in the laws of ritual afflictions and tent impurity. He argues that according to Nefesh HaChaim, cleaving to God is not an emotional experience but an objective state: the very act of engaging in Torah is cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, because “He and His will are one,” as it says in the Zohar. He notes that the Tanya contains similar formulations in chapters 3–4, though not identical ones, and concludes that according to this approach, the explanation of “why study” remains internal to study itself: the study is the cleaving, not a tool for attaining it.

“Speak of them for their own sake,” “expound and receive reward,” and the blessing over Torah

The speaker cites the Rosh on tractate Nedarim regarding the distinction between “do things for the sake of their effect” and “speak of them for their own sake,” and interprets “for their own sake” as for the sake of Torah itself, not for some external utility. He brings Rabbi Yisrael Salanter in Ohr Hashem, who interprets the statement “the stubborn and rebellious son never was and never will be… expound and receive reward” as a principle teaching that all Torah is studied not in order to carry it out in practice, but because of the value of study itself, even when practical realization is impossible. He explains in the name of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter that Torah scholars who did not bless over Torah first did so because they viewed study as merely a means to a commandment, and one does not recite a blessing over a means to a commandment. He adds his own reservation that, in his view, the blessing over Torah is a blessing of praise and not a blessing over a commandment. He emphasizes that the question of what counts as a Torah scholar includes not only knowledge of details, but also one’s attitude and worldview.

Two aspects of Torah study: studying and knowing

The speaker cites Baruch Ber in Birkat Shmuel on tractate Kiddushin concerning two aspects of Torah study: the act of study itself and the requirement of knowledge, and he emphasizes that the aspect of knowledge is not merely “in order to practice,” but part of the value of Torah itself. He explains that the command includes both “to engage” and “to know,” so that words of Torah should be sharp in your mouth, and that both together constitute cleaving to God. He uses this to reject the claim that someone who sees study as an intrinsic value could simply repeat the same Mishnah endlessly without acquiring breadth.

Women, studying in order to practice, and the distinction between a commandment and a means to a commandment

The speaker notes that women are not commanded in Torah study, yet according to the Shulchan Arukh they do recite the blessing over Torah. He cites the Magen Avraham and the Mishnah Berurah, who explain that they are obligated to learn the laws relevant to them in order to know what to do. He concludes that according to that view, “studying in order to know what to do” is not the essence of the commandment of Torah study, but an instrumental need, and therefore there is no contradiction between exemption from Torah study and the obligation to learn practical laws. He emphasizes that even when studying practical Jewish law one can fulfill Torah study, but the essence of the commandment is not reduced to the means of proper observance.

“Great is study, for it leads to action” and bringing a discussion to a halakhic conclusion

The speaker interprets “Great is study, for it leads to action” not as a claim that action is the goal and study the means, but as a statement that the greatest form of study is study that ends in a practical conclusion. He argues that the question “Which is greater, study or action?” assumes a mistaken separation, because the chain should not be broken up, and the greatness lies in the structure of learning that leads to decision. He explains that “to bring the discussion to a conclusion in accordance with Jewish law” means to exhaust the topic until one reaches a halakhic bottom line, not in order to make Jewish law into an external goal, but in order to complete the learning. He adds a sharp critique of the yeshiva-world separation between analytic study and halakhic study, and argues that analytic study should end in your own conclusion, not merely in reading an existing ruling, while stressing that not every student is capable of this immediately.

Analytic study and breadth, yeshiva as preparation, and stories of Rabbi Chaim Kreiswirth and Rabbi Michel Zilber

The speaker tells of a lecture by Rabbi Chaim Kreiswirth, who quoted sources by heart at great speed and presented this as a demand to know everything. In contrast, he cites Rabbi Michel Zilber, who argued that the role of a yeshiva is to teach a person how to learn, even at the price of limited breadth, and that breadth should be completed over the course of life. He presents the yeshiva as a preparatory framework for acquiring the tools of learning, and criticizes those who continue all their lives in the yeshiva format instead of broadening their knowledge. He cites Nefesh HaChaim to the effect that today the warning “whoever forgets a matter from his Mishnah” is less applicable because books are accessible, and that the value of analytical tools has risen relative to merely storing information in memory.

Sinai and uprooting mountains in an age of accessible information

The speaker argues that today the “uprooter of mountains” is preferable, because raw information is accessible in books and databases, while the critical thing is the ability to analyze, compare one matter to another, and draw conclusions. He explains that the Talmud preferred “Sinai” in the past because everyone needed a “master of the wheat,” but in the present age the weight of knowledge in and of itself has diminished, even though it has not disappeared, and the main thing is analytical skill that makes correct use of information possible.

The example of “this one benefits and the other does not lose,” and conceptualization in analysis

The speaker brings the Talmudic discussion of “a person lives in another’s courtyard without his knowledge” and emphasizes that the Talmud itself makes the move there from a concrete case to analytical conceptualization: “this one benefits and the other does not lose.” He presents the division into different cases as a tool that makes classification, comparison, and inference to additional cases possible, and explains that without analytical principles one cannot know what is similar to what. He shows that analysis is not decoration, but a condition for extracting halakhic meaning from the case.

An analogy to philosophy of science and the process of back and forth

The speaker cites Carr and the problem of selecting facts in history and science: without a theory, one cannot know which parameters to look at, and on the other hand theory is tested and corrected against the facts. He describes a process of back and forth in which the initial understanding is tested, corrected, and then returned again to the sources, until an analytical theory is built that explains the cases and makes new conclusions possible. He applies this to Torah study as a constant testing against medieval authorities (Rishonim) and later authorities (Acharonim) until one reaches a ruling in accordance with Jewish law.

Later authorities and medieval authorities, and the halakhic conclusion as the end product

The speaker argues that the analyses of later authorities are especially useful for developing analytical ability, but they must be tested against the Talmud and the medieval authorities in order to correct and establish one’s understanding. He presents the halakhic ruling as the end of the analytical process, not as a separate stage, and clarifies that practical study from halakhic decisors is necessary in order not to stumble, but is not “the real Torah study” in the evaluative sense. He expresses his personal view that one can reach a conclusion against the Shulchan Arukh, and notes that this is a topic for a separate lecture and that most halakhic decisors do not agree with this.

“The glasses of Torah” and the transmission of tools of thought through tradition

The speaker argues that cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, means internalizing the modes of thought and analysis of Torah, and not merely accumulating conclusions like “impure/pure” or “permitted/forbidden.” He defines “looking at the world through the glasses of Torah” as a state in which the forms of analysis shape one’s thinking even in other fields, and not as searching for ready-made answers in the Mishnah Berurah. He defines the tradition of the Oral Torah as the transmission of tools, not merely the transmission of practice, and presents the building of personal tools through engagement with medieval authorities and later authorities until an independent method emerges that is built upon them.

The canon of Torah: Torah in the object and Torah in the person

The speaker presents a distinction between “Torah in the object,” which is an objective status of Torah, and “Torah in the person,” which depends on the learner’s value and connection to it. He defines Torah in the object as Jewish law and its commentators, and gives as examples studying Ketzot HaChoshen, Rabbi Chaim, and the Rashba in halakhic topics as Torah study that does not depend on agreeing with the conclusion. He places works of thought such as Nefesh HaChaim, Guide for the Perplexed, the Maharal, and Rabbi Kook under “Torah in the person,” which, in his view, count as Torah when they build for the learner the “glasses,” and if not, then they are a waste of time. He refers listeners to his own writing for his reasons on this point.

Ponevezh and Slabodka: patterns, independence, and proper staging

The speaker describes a difference between Ponevezh, where the thinking is patterned, analytical, and conceptual, and Slabodka, where each person says what seems right to him and sometimes the ideas remain “up in the air.” He argues that the large number of roshei yeshiva who emerged from Ponevezh is connected to the fact that the patterns enable even a person of average talent to achieve high skill through hard work, whereas in Slabodka only exceptional individuals “turn into something.” He formulates the proper path as “start in Ponevezh and finish in Slabodka,” meaning that one should first acquire the tools and the tradition, and only afterward build independence on the upper floor without destroying the building.

The story of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky and internalizing a mode of analysis

The speaker relates that his lecturer taught tractate Sukkah in a way that later turned out, in retrospect, to be identical to the published lectures of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky, and the lecturer was happy because he had not studied tractate Sukkah with him specifically, but had internalized the forms of analysis to the point of reaching the same results. He presents this as proof that the goal is to internalize modes of thought, not to memorize content. At the same time, he expresses the view that a person’s task is to be himself and not “a little Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky,” but rather to build a personal level after the stage of internalization.

An explanation for someone who doesn’t feel it “just like that”

The speaker says that when a person does not feel that Torah study is self-evident, it is hard to persuade him with various axioms, because axioms are not proven like logical theorems. He suggests as a possible explanation that Torah study is the way to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He, through cleaving to His will, and admits that he does not have a better explanation. He sharpens the point that these remarks are intended especially for someone who already senses the value but has difficulty accepting it as rational without a “reason,” and he seeks to show that even “just because” can be rational when dealing with a foundational value.

Conclusion and a blessing for the community in Paris

The speaker concludes by inviting further questions, thanking the participants, and blessing them with success and with the strength to uphold Torah in Paris. He parts from them with wishes for success and a good week.

People—it’s not obligatory, but some want to and some don’t. Okay. Everyone wants to, they’re just trying for a second. What? Everyone, everyone wants to, they’re just looking for how to do it. Okay. Fine. It’s your decision of course, I’m only suggesting. Fine. Okay, friends. Come on, mute the Rabbi. What? Mute. Okay. You do know, right, that whoever wants to speak can press the space bar, but really, basically, so there won’t be interruptions, it’s better that in general we stay muted. Okay. Good. First of all, Eliav told me he wants us to talk a bit about Torah study in general, some kind of opening to the academic year or something like that, but if there are points or particular things you specifically want to talk about, then of course that’s also possible. If someone wants to raise something, we can definitely hear it. If not, then I’ll say a few things I had in mind to say. Yes—especially about conceptual learning and the distinction between that and the forms of learning in Poland and so on and so on. Okay, so the distinction from Poland is a question, yes, a more historical question; I may comment on it a bit. But okay, let’s start talking, and feel free to jump in. I hope in terms of Hebrew it’s okay—I mean, if someone doesn’t understand something or anything like that, maybe ask and someone else here can help him. Okay. Good. So first of all, hello everyone, I’m really happy to see you. It warms the heart to see people studying Torah in Paris, and through Zoom we have the privilege of feeling as if we’re in the same place, feeling like friends in the same study hall. I wrote several times that you can even join a prayer quorum on Zoom. I think that in our era, when we talk about websites on the internet, and the literal translation of “site” is actually “place,” so we have places on the internet, and when we’re all on the same site, in the same place, then really it doesn’t matter whether we’re physically in the same place, because in our world that too is a place. In other words, the virtual place is also a place, and therefore there can also be study halls or houses of prayer in the online or virtual worlds. So in that sense, I really think this is a situation that would have been hard to imagine fifty years ago, but today it somehow seems obvious. Okay. So let’s begin. I want maybe to start with the point of what exactly one should or can look for when we study Torah. Very often people ask why study Torah. Students have asked me more than once, in various places, why study Torah. When you ask why study Torah, you’re already assuming something. You’re assuming that there ought to be some answer—without getting into which answer—but there has to be some answer that is some value or explanation outside the study itself. In other words, for example: I need to study Torah because it will make me very wise, or I need to study Torah because it will connect me to the Holy One, blessed be He, or I need to study Torah because, I don’t know, in order to know what to do in terms of Jewish law. Okay? All these explanations—whenever I ask why study Torah or why do something, I’m assuming there has to be some explanation that explains why to study Torah. Now I ask you: after I explain to you that you need to study Torah because of X, then I’ll ask: and why do we need X? Then they’ll tell me because of Y. And then I’ll ask: and why do we need Y? Because of Z. We don’t have enough letters in the alphabet, but we can move to longer series of letters. So you start with AA, AAA, and so on, so you have infinite possibilities for answering. You understand that this… can’t really proceed this way. Obviously every chain of explanation has to begin somewhere. When we’re talking about a moral explanation, for example—why should one do such-and-such on the moral level—then the explanation will be because of some reason, and then I’ll ask why that reason, and there’ll be another reason—where does this stop? It stops at a value. Value, yes? The value I have is basically the moral axiom. Right? I say, for example, why is it forbidden to murder? Human life has value. One must not violate that value of human life. And why does human life have value? Just because. I have no explanation. If I had an explanation for that, and I also asked about that explanation, it would never end. Somewhere it has to stop. And when we stop, we stop at the point that is supposed to be self-evident. The value of human life, for example in this case—someone will say that’s self-evident. I don’t need to explain that. Now what does “self-evident” mean? When someone asks me a question and I tell him, “just because”—that answer, “just because,” can be understood in two ways. One way is to say arbitrarily: that’s how I decided, because I felt like it. That’s not really true in my view, but you have to decide something, so I decided. That’s “just because” in the arbitrary sense. And there’s “just because” in the essential sense. Meaning: I say, why is it forbidden to murder? Because human life has value. Why does human life have value? Just because. What does that mean? I don’t mean merely because I feel like it. Someone else might say there is no value to human life—on the contrary, it’s a commandment to murder. Okay? And he says “just because” and I say “just because,” so apparently neither of us is more right than the other. That’s not what we mean when we say “just because” regarding the value of human life. What does it mean? It means we don’t have a more fundamental principle that can explain the value of human life. The value of human life is the most basic value I have. And I don’t need to explain it by means of something else. It’s the most basic thing; with it I can explain other things, but it itself I don’t need to explain. Okay? Therefore, whenever I look for an explanation, I’m assuming that there is some fundamental value that can explain what I’m looking for and that itself won’t need explanation. Yes, it stands on its own. Now when I ask why study Torah—let’s return to that question—why study Torah? Someone can come along and offer all kinds of explanations; earlier I presented all kinds of suggestions. But someone can also come and say: the value of Torah study is my fundamental value. I don’t need to give explanations for it. On the contrary—ask me why do this or that? Because it matters in terms of Torah. In other words, the value of Torah study, or the value of Torah, is my fundamental value, and with it I explain other things. But when I ask why study Torah, maybe the answer will be: just because. There is no explanation. But that “no explanation” is not in the sense that it’s arbitrary, that I just decided on it for no reason. Rather, because it is such a basic value, it is self-evident and therefore it doesn’t need explanation. That’s the point, the first point in the chain of explanations, the religious axiom—it is the value of Torah, for example. I’m not saying that this is necessarily the case; I’m only saying that one has to take into account that this too is a possibility. When I ask why study Torah, that too is one of the possibilities. And the truth is that it’s very hard to find a good explanation for why to study Torah. If you want something that sharpens your mind, there are other things that sharpen your mind too. Philosophy sharpens the mind, mathematics, physics—each of you knows fields that can sharpen the mind. As I’ve said more than once to people before university studies, and maybe also to students—I’ve told them that in my view there is a certain very important experience that is very worthwhile for everyone to go through. And that is to be in a class that you simply can’t understand. Most people who study in university do not go through that experience. For most people who study in university, even studies considered difficult are not studies you can’t understand. You need to learn a lot of material, you need to remember it, you need to understand it—but it’s not that there’s something you just can’t understand because it’s too hard. Not because the lecturer isn’t good, but simply because it’s hard. You can’t understand it; it’s terribly difficult for you. Now subjects like that, I think in physics and mathematics there are such subjects—maybe in other areas too—but most fields you encounter are not like that. And therefore, I think most students who go through university do not go through that experience—most students. It’s just an interesting experience to go through. In any case, to our point. Why is it an interesting experience? Isn’t it too frustrating? It is also frustrating, but you also stand before something whose wisdom you can admire. You can see—listen, this is very hard, there’s something deep here. It’s some kind of encounter also with human ability—whoever discovered this, whoever formulated it—and also with the wisdom of the Holy One, blessed be He, if He created nature and I’m trying to understand the laws of nature, then this is some kind of encounter that I think has human value, intellectual value, religious value. And that doesn’t happen when you study things that—okay, someone formulated this but I also could have formulated it, it’s not a big deal. Okay? I think most university subjects are like that. In any event, that was just a side note. To our matter: when I return to Torah and ask myself why study it, then that answer—that it sharpens the mind—first of all on the factual level I’m not sure that’s really true, or at least not necessary. There are other fields that sharpen the mind no less. I don’t think Torah study is the hardest field I’ve encountered. You can go very deep in it, but I don’t think it’s the hardest field I’ve encountered. For me personally there were other fields that were much harder. Of course, each person according to his talents and inclinations; it varies from one to another. But in my view there are fields that are harder and sharpen the mind more than Torah study. Therefore I think that answer is first of all factually not correct, or not necessary. It sharpens the mind, but it’s not necessary. You can sharpen your mind in other ways too. Beyond that, the moment I grasp Torah as a means to sharpen the mind, then what is the religious meaning of the matter? Then Torah study is only a means, basically—it’s not an end. It’s a means for sharpening the mind. Usually we look at Torah study as something that is an end in itself; it’s not a means. And you need to understand that if it is an end in itself, then it belongs to the kind of things for which we probably won’t have an explanation. Because an explanation always says: why study Torah? Because it will help me do such-and-such or achieve such-and-such. So that means Torah study is a means. If Torah study is an end, then that basically means I’m not supposed to have an explanation for why study Torah. So it seems a bit strange. Why study Torah? Just because. So that’s “just because.” Again, not “just because” in the arbitrary sense, as I said earlier, but “just because” in the sense that this is the fundamental value, something self-evident. But in Nefesh HaChaim, Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim, Gate 4, which deals with Torah, there he really says that the value of Torah—he brings the Hasidic view, in which Torah study is a means for cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. And his claim is that cleaving means the religious feeling or the experience of encounter with the Holy One, blessed be He, and so on. And then he says that it is not reasonable to understand Torah study that way. He brings the midrash about King David, who asked the Holy One, blessed be He, after composing Psalms, that reciting Psalms should be considered like engaging in the laws of leprosy and tents. Then he says: we see from this that if Torah study were a means to cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, then he should have asked that the laws of leprosy and tents be considered like Psalms, not that Psalms be considered like the laws of leprosy and tents. Psalms is something that brings one more to cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, than the laws of leprosy and tents. He says more than that—yes, this is what’s called a Lithuanian grab, a Lithuanian quick move. He says: besides, it also doesn’t say what the Holy One answered him. The fact that King David asked—he asked. But who says the Holy One actually accepted and agreed? Fine, that’s an amusing remark. But for our purposes, what he basically wants to show from there is that it’s not correct to understand Torah study as a means to cleaving. On the other hand, he presents the Lithuanian view—yes, the anti-Hasidic one—and says that Torah study really is the way to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He. The difference between the view he proposes and the Hasidic view that he criticizes is that for him, cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, is not an experience, not a religious feeling; rather, the very engagement in Torah is itself cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. That has no connection to the question of what you feel or what kind of experience you undergo. The moment you engage in Torah, you are cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He, because He and His will, as it says in the Zohar, He and His will are one. The Holy One and His will—His will is the Jewish law, yes, the Torah—are one thing. So if you want to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He, then cleave. Cleave to His will, to the Torah He gave, to what the Torah tells us is the will of the Holy One, blessed be He. And therefore his claim is that Torah study is indeed the way to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He, but it’s not a means the way the Hasidim understand it, because they understand that cleaving is something else, and study leads to cleaving, so study is a means. He says study is the cleaving. When you study, the study itself is a state of cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. By the way, in the Tanya there is a formulation—though that is from the Hasidic side of the divide—there are some formulations there that are fairly close. In chapter 3, chapter 4, at the beginning of Tanya, there are formulations quite close. It’s not exactly the same thing; it’s still some kind of means, but it’s already very close to what Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin writes. And basically Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin’s claim is that you can’t explain why one must study Torah unless you say—accept this explanation—that Torah study is cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. But that’s not an explanation in the sense of what I gain from Torah study, what result there will be if I study Torah. The explanation is not outside the study. The explanation only says that the study itself is the cleaving. It’s not something else. Therefore in that sense this really is a kind of “just because” answer. Why must one study Torah? Just because. Because it is cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. Why cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He? Just because. In other words, you can push the “just because” one step later, but in the final analysis there really is no good explanation for why study Torah other than that this is the way to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He—the study itself. He brings there, he brings there the Rosh in Nedarim. Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim brings the Rosh in Nedarim, who writes there about the statement: “Do things for the sake of their Maker, and speak of them for their own sake.” That’s what the Talmud says there, and he says—what is, says the Rosh, the difference? When you do things, the observance of the commandments is for the sake of their Maker, the One who made them, for the sake of the Holy One, blessed be He. But “speak of them”—when you speak in the commandments, when you study Torah—for their own sake. What does “for their own sake” mean? Says the Rosh: for the sake of the Torah. I study Torah for the sake of the Torah. Meaning there is no reason outside the Torah that explains the purpose of Torah study. The purpose of Torah study is to study Torah. That is basically the meaning. And therefore the claim is that Torah, or Torah study, cleaving to Torah, is some kind of fundamental value. It is an end in itself; it is not a means to something else. That is the basic principle. In particular, for example, one of the implications of this matter is that Torah study is also not a means in order to know what to do. What to do in terms of Jewish law, meaning to know how to behave—what is permitted, what is forbidden, what is obligatory—to study in order to practice. Right? So people usually understand that study is a means so that we will know what to observe: “An ignoramus cannot be pious.” So according to what I have described until now, that is not correct. Study in order to know what to do is basically study that is instrumental—it is a means—where the goal is observance. And then it comes out that the study is a means and the goal is observance. But both Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin and Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, who writes this in an essay, and others, say no, that’s not so. Study is a value in itself. “Speak of them for their own sake,” as the Talmud writes, as the Rosh says. For their own sake—for the sake of Torah. There is no other reason. The means in order to know what to do is not called Torah study. One has to study in order to know what to do, because without study we won’t know what to do—that is true—but that is not what is called Torah study. That is preparation for the commandment of observing the commandments. For example, Rabbi Yisrael Salanter in his essay writes—this appears in Ohr Yisrael, excuse me, the book of Rabbi Yisrael Salanter. And he says there, he brings the Talmud about the stubborn and rebellious son, the Talmud in Sanhedrin, that the stubborn and rebellious son never was and never will be, so why was it written? “Expound and receive reward.” Right? That is what the Talmud says there. It’s a dispute among the Tannaim whether there was or wasn’t such a case, and the one who says there wasn’t says: it never was and never was created and never will be, so why was it written? Expound and receive reward. That there should be reward for our Torah study. So Rabbi Yisrael Salanter asks: couldn’t we study other things that are practical? They needed to add those five verses and… with these verses we’re all set? We have enough to do. It’s strange. So he wants to make a very interesting claim. He says that the passage of the stubborn and rebellious son teaches us the principle of “expound and receive reward.” Not that it was written for the sake of “expound and receive reward,” but because the stubborn and rebellious son never was and never will be, so why is it written in the Torah? To teach you that when you study Torah, you don’t study it in order to practice it. Here is a case of the stubborn and rebellious son—you will never come to practice it because it won’t happen. But it serves as a model for all Torah study, not only for the passage of the stubborn and rebellious son. The passage of the stubborn and rebellious son reveals that for the whole Torah, the value of its study is not as a means to know what to do, but as a value in itself. Now, you can quibble here—after all, the condemned city also never was and never was created. The Talmud says there several passages that never occurred, and if so this would be two verses coming as one, from which no principle is derived—but we won’t enter into pilpul here. This explanation in the Talmud is definitely an interesting explanation. And the simple reading of the Talmud is difficult. So his claim is basically that what is written here really is the idea of studying Torah for its own sake. For its own sake, for the sake of Torah—even not in order to know what to do. Even that is not “for its own sake.” To study in order to know what to do is study that is a means; it is not study that has value in itself. The goal is observance of the commandments, and of course one has to study in order to observe. But study—the value of study—is not a means to anything; it is a value in itself. He brings there that the Talmud says: why is it not common that the sons of Torah scholars also become Torah scholars? There are several answers in the Talmud. One answer is: because they did not first recite the blessing over the Torah. They were not careful about the Torah blessing. Now that really sounds like a very strange evil inclination. A Torah scholar who devotes his life to Torah, but on the matter of the Torah blessing he cuts corners. That is, he’s not so careful about it. What, where does this evil inclination come from in Torah scholars, that they don’t recite the Torah blessing, or aren’t careful about it, and therefore their sons do not become Torah scholars? So he says there is a whole conception behind it. It’s not an evil inclination, it’s not sloppiness. There are Torah scholars who think that Torah study is a means in order to know what to do. For example, Rabbi Ovadia and his sons. That’s how they understand Torah study. If so, then there is the rule—the Talmud says that any commandment that is not the completion of the commandment, one does not recite a blessing over it. We do not recite blessings over preparatory actions for a commandment. We recite a blessing over the observance of the commandment, not over the preparation for the commandment, not over preparation leading up to the commandment. Yes, over building a sukkah in principle one does not recite a blessing. There is an opinion in the Jerusalem Talmud that one does, but in principle, in Jewish law, we do not recite one. Why? Because building a sukkah is not the commandment. The commandment is to sit in the sukkah. We build a sukkah as a means so that we have somewhere to sit in the sukkah. Therefore one does not recite a blessing over building a sukkah. And the rule is that over preparatory actions for a commandment, over means, one does not recite a blessing. Commandments are ends, not means—all commandments. And when we recite a blessing, we recite it over a commandment, not over the preparation for a commandment. And Rabbi Yisrael Salanter’s claim was that the meaning of the Talmud—that the Torah scholars did not first bless over the Torah—was because they understood that study is a means in order to know what to do; it is preparation for a commandment. And over preparation for a commandment one does not recite a blessing. So they did not recite the Torah blessing. Of course, he assumes that this is a blessing over commandments. I don’t agree with him on that point. In my opinion the Torah blessing is a blessing of praise, not a blessing over a commandment. But he claims that this is why they did not bless. There is a whole conception here. And therefore their sons also do not become Torah scholars. Because one who understands Torah that way—his sons do not become Torah scholars. That is not a correct understanding of Torah. Unless he is at least a Torah scholar. What? I can’t hear. But he is at least a Torah scholar. Yes, a Torah scholar who is mistaken in his conception. But in terms of knowledge, he knows. The question is what is called a Torah scholar. Is a Torah scholar someone who knows the material, or is a Torah scholar also a matter of how he relates to things, what his worldview is, and not only his knowledge of details? That can be debated—the question is the definition. Because if you see study as an independent value, then you can also spend all your time on the same Mishnah and study it over and over and not become a Torah scholar, but you have fulfilled in the fullest possible way the command of Torah study, the commandment. Right. There is a passage in Birkat Shmuel by Baruch Ber in Kiddushin, at the end of chapter 1 of Kiddushin. He has a long discussion there about Torah study. And there he says there are two laws in Torah study. There is the law to study, and there is the law to know. But even the law to know is not to know in order that… we can observe. Rather, simply, the law of Torah study is, first, the act of study itself, and according to that one really can repeat the same thing all the time—but there is also the law of knowing. “And you shall sharpen them”—that the words of Torah should be sharp in your mouth, so that whenever someone asks you, you will not stammer and tell him… so that is the law of knowing the whole Torah, and that too is part of Torah study. And this is exactly to exclude what you said, because if we see study as an end in itself, then someone might come and say: okay, so basically I can repeat the same thing all the time without acquiring any knowledge, any scope, and still I’m perfectly fine. So no—there is another law in Torah study: one also has to know the whole Torah. So Rabbi, when we study, do we need to be aware of two different things—that Torah study is one, that we study for value, and two, that it’s the very act of study? No, all of it is simply that we study for the value. But what is the value? The value is to engage in Torah and to know Torah. The purpose of study is, first, to be engaged in Torah, and second, to know, meaning to possess the Torah. And those two things together are what is called Torah study, and one who does those two things is cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. There are simply two different aspects to the way we cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He. It’s not that one side is that Torah is instrumental and the other side is that Torah is a value. No. On both sides Torah is a value, but you need both. This claim may perhaps also explain something else. We know that women are not commanded in the commandment of Talmud Torah. Okay. It may even be that “one who teaches his daughter Torah teaches her frivolity,” as the Talmud says, but for our purposes, they are not commanded in the commandment of Torah study. But the Shulchan Arukh rules that women do recite the Torah blessing. So the Magen Avraham asks there—the Mishnah Berurah brings it—why? Why do they recite the Torah blessing if they are not obligated in the commandment of Torah study? So he answers—again, of course, like Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, both the Mishnah Berurah and the Magen Avraham understand the Torah blessing as a blessing over a commandment. I think they’re mistaken, but they too understood it that way, as a blessing over a commandment. And then they ask: so why do women need to bless? They are not commanded in the commandment of Torah study—at least according to the views that women do not recite blessings over commandments in which they are not commanded. That too is a dispute among medieval authorities, of course. And then they say: because they need to learn what pertains to them in order to know what to do. That’s what is written in the Magen Avraham; the Mishnah Berurah copies it. They need to learn in order to know what to do. Now look at something interesting. According to them it comes out that women too need to learn in order to know what to do—but women are exempt from Torah study. So what does that mean? That learning in order to know what to do is not Torah study; it is not the commandment of Torah study. Women are obligated in learning in order to know what to do—the instrumental value applies to them too; they need to know what is forbidden and permitted and obligatory. But the commandment of Torah study—that is not this. From that they are exempt. That is not the commandment of Torah study. Here this is a clear proof according to the Magen Avraham and Mishnah Berurah: we clearly see that when it says women are exempt from Torah study, that does not contradict the statement that women need to learn the laws that apply to them. It means that learning the laws in order to know how to observe and what to observe is not the commandment of Torah study. Now again, that does not mean that when I study those laws, I am not fulfilling the commandment of Torah study. I’m only saying that this is not the essence of the commandment of Torah study. It is a means in order to know what to do. Of course, one can study Torah in order to study Torah and engage in things that also teach me what to do, what is permitted and what is forbidden—that’s perfectly fine. I’m not disqualifying the study of practical laws. But even when I study practical laws, I study them because one has to study, not only in order to know what to do. Because otherwise I am not really studying Torah at all, but only dealing with preparation for the commandment of observing Jewish law. Does the Rabbi want to explain this also according to “great is study, for it leads to action”? The rule of “great is study, for it leads to action”—the Talmudic statement “great is study, for it leads to action”—seemingly contradicts this. The Talmud says there that great is study because it leads to action, and there it sounds as if action is the goal and study is a means in order to know what to do. But look at the Talmud and you’ll see that it is utterly strange, because if indeed study is a means and action is the goal, then why is that a reason that study is greater? They asked there whether study is greater or action is greater, and then they said: study is greater because it leads to action. But if it leads to action, then that means action is the greater thing; study is only a means. And it is well known that the lesser depends on the greater, not the greater on the lesser. The means is the smaller thing; the goal is the central thing. So how does the Talmud say there that study leads to action and therefore study is greater? Therefore I think one has to read it differently. What is greater is study that leads to action. How should one study? Not because action is the goal and study is the means; rather, the proper way to study Torah is to study in such a way that it ends in a practical conclusion—study that leads to action. So even in the value of study there is no connection to this? I can’t hear. I said: so even in the value of study there is no connection to this, because study itself has its basic value irrespective of action. Ah. As for study—the question is: what is the proper form of study? How do we study in order to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He? We study in such a way that in every topic, in the end, you conclude with a halakhic conclusion. Not because study is a means in order to know what to do, but the form of study is such that study should end in conclusions and not remain only at a general level. But it’s not because study is a means and action is the goal. Then it’s clear: is study greater or action greater? The answer is: there’s a mistake in the question. You can’t separate study from action. What is greater is study that leads to action. That chain is what is greater. You can’t divide study or action and ask which is greater. Because that chain is the meaning of Torah study. Torah comes from the word instruction—it is knowing what to do. But not because it is a means to know what to do; rather, that is the form of the study. Torah study is study that ends in a halakhic conclusion, to derive the sugya according to Jewish law. “To derive the sugya according to Jewish law” does not mean that the goal of the study is to know the law; rather, that the study must end in a halakhic conclusion, because then you know you’ve exhausted the sugya. You understood it, you reached your conclusions, and you exhausted it. That is called having finished the sugya, having finished learning. And one has to study in order to know what to do. Therefore, for example, in this context—and on this maybe I’ll speak a bit more later—in this context I really think there is a major mistake in yeshivot, where they separate conceptual study from halakhic study. Halakhic study means learning Mishnah Berurah, knowing what to do, okay—Kitzur Shulchan Arukh, whatever—and conceptual study means Talmud with medieval and later authorities, questions and answers and possibilities and this explanation and that explanation. And there is a disconnect between these two studies, and that is a very big mistake. “To derive the sugya according to Jewish law” means exactly that you must not separate them. You finish your conceptual study with a conclusion, the halakhic bottom line—that is the completion of the study. These are not two different studies. You need to finish the study in a state where you have a practical conclusion: what according to you one should do. That may fit the Mishnah Berurah and it may not fit the Mishnah Berurah. You need to arrive at your conclusion, and that is what you should do, by the way, and not what is written in the Mishnah Berurah. That is also my conceptual view, at least. In the end, when you finish the sugya, you finish it—you have a conclusion, and that is the halakhah for you. Not because necessarily you are right; the Mishnah Berurah is probably a greater Torah scholar than we are. But still there is an obligation to derive the sugya according to Jewish law. You have to arrive at a conclusion, and that is the conclusion that obligates you; you need to act on it. Of course, if you are capable and so on—I’m not now saying that every little boy in school should arrive at his own conclusions and do what his conclusions say; he doesn’t yet know how to learn. But I’m talking about someone who already is capable and knows how to exhaust a sugya; he has also seen the Mishnah Berurah and in the end still thinks differently—then he should do what he thinks. Therefore this disconnect between conceptual study and halakhic study is, in my opinion, a mistake in understanding Torah study. Study needs to end in a conclusion. But not: finish the sugya and then look in the Mishnah Berurah for the conclusion. No. It needs to end in your conclusion. You need to arrive at a conclusion about what you think is the conclusion of the sugya. And that—you will write your own Mishnah Berurah. Of course study the Mishnah Berurah too, obviously, because it is an important halakhic decisor, and commentators and decisors—you need to see what they say, think about it, weigh it—but in the end, arrive at your own conclusions. That is what is called deriving the sugya according to Jewish law, or “great is study for it leads to action,” and this whole thing is about the form of study. Not that study is the means and action is the goal, but rather that the form of study is such that study ends in a practical conclusion. That is what is called Torah study. Torah study is not learning random things in the abstract, but learning things in such a way that you arrive at a practical conclusion. Even in the section of the stubborn and rebellious son, by the way, that is the practical difference. In the section of the stubborn and rebellious son, after finishing the study of the sugya—what is the law, even though this will never happen and I will never encounter it, and this is not a practical sugya? It doesn’t matter. Because arriving at the conclusion is not in order to observe. Arriving at the conclusion is the final hammer blow of the study. That’s how I know I studied properly, that I completed the study, at least for now. Later something can always be added, and sometimes the conclusion can change—that happens too. But right now you finish your study with practical conclusions. That is how study should end. Rabbi, how in practice can one do this? Because today, with all the development of methods of analysis and conceptual learning and all that, you can basically set up every approach on a reasonable and logical and correct foundation or something like that. So how can one decide between two possibilities? I’m getting to that in a moment. I’m getting to that in a moment. In this respect, this is the framework. First I wanted to present the framework of how, in my opinion, one should relate to Torah study—how to study and what the purpose of study is. Okay, that’s the framework. Now let’s go more into the practical questions. How do we implement this? How do we do it? Here there really is a certain habit, as part of that same mistake, in my opinion, that is common in yeshivot—or not only in yeshivot, but among people. Because in yeshivot—maybe I’ll tell you a story. Once I was at some banquet in Bnei Brak for some kollel, and they brought there Rabbi Kreiswirth from Belgium. Do you know him? Have you heard? A Jew who was still a student of the Rogatchover. From Antwerp? An enormous Torah scholar. What? From Antwerp, Chaim Kreiswirth? Yes, Rabbi Chaim Kreiswirth. He had been a student of the Rogatchover. Already then he was an elderly man; I’m talking about at least thirty-five years ago, I think, something like that, and already then he was quite old. And he gave us a lecture of something like an hour. He stood there—it was simply unbelievable. He stood there, spoke for an hour at a blazing pace, spoke and spoke and spoke, didn’t hold a paper in his hand, didn’t hold a book in his hand, and quoted constantly. He would begin: “The Talmud in Berakhot 21b, third wide line from the bottom: ‘Our Rabbis taught.’” He finishes, then says: “Rashi on the fourth narrow line from the top on the left side there on the page says such-and-such,” and quotes Rashi by heart—not paraphrasing what he says, but reciting Rashi with nothing in front of him, by heart. For a whole hour—sources all the time, moving between them—it was unbelievable. When he finished the lecture, he said: listen, do you think I came to impress you? He also understood that we were standing there with our mouths open—he probably noticed. He says: do you think I came to impress you? I came to teach you a lesson. This is what you have to reach. You need to study—not study ten pages a year. You need to study so that in the end you possess everything, know everything. I’m saying this in order to get to the antithesis. There was another Jew there. There was a man named Rabbi Michel Zilber, head of the Zvhil yeshivah in Jerusalem; I don’t know where he is today. He was much younger. He’s the one who gives the daily Talmud lecture, no? What? The daily Talmud lecturer, right? Correct. He basically invented that format of daily Talmud lectures. I think he was the first to distribute recordings—back then on cassette tapes—of daily Talmud lectures. So he got up there and said: with all due respect to Rabbi Kreiswirth—he could have been his son, or even younger—I must disagree. And I very much identify with what he said. I must disagree. Why? He says: obviously one needs to know everything—we talked about this earlier—but that is not the role of the yeshivah. The yeshivah, where you study for a few years—that is a preparatory stage where one learns how to learn. Now, if in order to know how to analyze a sugya properly you need to study ten pages a year, then study ten pages a year. Everything is fine, nothing happened. In order to know everything, your whole life lies ahead of you. What, do you think you study three years in yeshivah and then you’re exempt? Is Torah study a positive time-bound commandment? After you have studied in yeshivah for a few years, you have the preparation. Now you have tools, now you can study Torah, now you know how to learn, how to crack a sugya. Now start covering the material. Now you know how to learn—start working. Now really begin learning on a broad scope in order to know. But that is not a demand on the yeshivot. It is a demand on the people who graduate from yeshivah, who keep doing all their lives what they did in yeshivah. That was his claim. And in that sense I think he is very right. The claim is not against the yeshivot. Therefore I say: in that sense I don’t think the yeshivot are mistaken; the yeshivot are right. They need to teach the method of how to learn. It’s only a preparatory stage; it’s not Torah study itself—it’s preparation for a commandment, what they do in yeshivah. We learn how to learn so that afterward, our whole lives, we will actually learn. And in life one really should try to cover as much material as possible. And this split between study and Jewish law—that, in my opinion, really is a mistake that exists in yeshivot, because that’s what one absorbs there, and I think that is a mistake. In any case, for our purposes: when we study in yeshivah, we really need to focus on acquiring the methods of learning. Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin in Nefesh HaChaim also says that after all, the Mishnah says that whoever forgets one thing from his learning is liable for his life. And Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin says that nowadays this doesn’t apply. Why? We have books; everything is written. In our time we already even have databases. We have much more now than Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin had. Therefore the value of knowing everything by heart has already declined. Today it is much more important to know the methods of learning, to know how to analyze, because the information—you can get to it, it comes to you. What you need is to be somewhat skilled, of course familiar with things, but you can get to the information. Information today is very accessible. Therefore the value of knowing, of holding the information, is much smaller today. That is why he also says there is no longer any rule of a primary teacher. The Rema writes that today there is no such category of a primary teacher, because today you learn from books, not from a rabbi. The rabbi helps you, but in the end most of your wisdom you acquire from books, not from the rabbi. Which was not the case in the past, when the Oral Torah had not yet been written down, and people learned from a rabbi. But in the Shulchan Arukh it says that today there is no primary teacher because of that. So today the situation has really changed, and the value of understanding—for example, if they would ask today whether “Sinai” is preferable or “uprooter of mountains” is preferable, there is no doubt that the uprooter of mountains is preferable. Because you don’t need Sinai; today there are databases, you can get to any information you want. Again, an ignoramus won’t get even to the information; he needs to understand the matter. But one who is capable can get to the information even if he doesn’t hold everything by heart in his head. But the analytical ability—that he needs to learn. You can hold the whole Torah and still remain a complete ignoramus. What is called a rabbinic scholar and an ignoramus regarding Torah law. Meaning, you can hold the whole Torah and not know how to learn. You can study in-depth with all the medieval and later authorities, and what you studied was breadth, not depth. And you can study in-depth with Rashi alone and you studied depth. The question is what you do, not whom you study and how much you study—the question is how you study. And in-depth learning today is much more significant than it once was. What the Talmud says—first a person should memorize and then understand. First learn, have scope, and then engage in reasoning, in depth, in thinking. Today it’s not like that. Today, in my opinion, it is first understand and then memorize. First of all, know how to learn. If you know how to learn, then afterward, even when you learn many pages quickly in broad survey, it will sit better with you. You’ll understand what it means, because you already have the conceptual ability. Very quickly you can understand what the Talmud wants here, even if you don’t open all the medieval and later authorities and don’t sit on this page for two weeks. You can very quickly already understand more or less what is written here, what it really means. But Rabbi, yes? Rabbi, in order to analyze well, you basically need all that information, because sometimes I can sit a week on something. I’m not saying information—yes, I agree—I’m not saying information is not important. I’m saying the importance of information is much less than it was once. Of course, the more knowledge you have, the more it can always help in-depth learning. That’s true. Yes, but the question is whether in order to study in depth you first need the broad survey. For example, in order to learn—when starting a tractate, should you first learn the whole tractate and then return to it in depth? In my opinion, definitely not. Especially because in tractates it’s not even true that all the relevant information is in the same tractate. It’s simply not arranged that way. In most tractates that’s not the case at all. Therefore it’s also not right to do it that way. There are certain chapters—like “Which Is Interest?” where the laws of interest are concentrated—but that’s rare. Usually it’s not concentrated; it’s scattered in many places. So how would you know what broad material to learn before you know the depth? Unless you go through the whole Talmud with medieval and later authorities in broad survey before starting in-depth study. That’s both impractical and nothing would remain with you. Maybe I’ll tell you something else. I was in yeshivah—I was in yeshivah until noon, and at noon I went to the university. So once I came to yeshivah in the afternoon; in the morning they learned in-depth and in the afternoon they learned breadth. So I came to yeshivah, and my lecturer says to me: come see what you’re missing. So we walked around there between the benches. He stops near some study pair, and that pair was learning some sugya. He saw what sugya they were dealing with and said to them: I have a question for you. He asks them some question—what is the law in such-and-such a case? They sit there, look, examine, understand that somehow it’s related to what they learned, flip here, flip there—they don’t know. So he says to them: this is written in the very line your finger was on. That’s where the answer lies. What are you looking for a page back, two pages ahead, trying to make pilpul here and there? You can learn the whole page and know it—really know it by heart—and still not know what it says. When you ask a question about the meaning of the words, to derive a halakhic conclusion from what is written, it’s not enough to know that Abaye says this and Rava says that. You need to understand the meaning of the words, the conceptual dimension behind it. Now if you’re very skilled, you can do that quickly. At first it takes a lot of time, but if you are skilled, you can go through the page quickly and basically understand the principles quite quickly. I once did—in fact twice—in the yeshivah in Yeruham where I studied. I ran an experiment for them. We took one summer term—from Passover until Elul, until Av—in one term we learned all of Berakhot in depth, and in another summer term we learned the second half of Gittin in depth. I don’t know, some thirty pages or so. Thirty-something pages. Okay, that’s far more than what is usually done. And I showed them—there is the eighty-twenty rule. You know, eighty percent of the time goes on twenty percent of the material. When you study a sugya, at least if you’re skilled and already know how to learn, within a fairly short time you more or less know what the map will be here, what the possibilities are, what depends on what, what the practical differences more or less are. Now all the fine points and nuances, and how Rashba differs from Ritva in this nuance or that nuance—that’s twenty percent of the material, and it takes eighty percent of the time. And the more skilled you are in learning, then it’s no longer eighty-twenty but ninety-ten and ninety-five-five. The more tools you have in analysis, in learning skill, the faster you reach almost everything relevant. Without opening the medieval and later authorities, you already know more or less what will be written in them. More or less which directions they’ll go. Of course, the more skilled you are, the better it will go. I’m only trying to show that in the end, in-depth study helps a lot in extracting the best from broad study. If you study breadth without knowing how to study depth, then you’ll know by heart what Abaye said and what Rava said, what he answered him, and what the practical difference is—and of course after three days you’ll forget it. But even if you don’t forget it, that’s all you’ll know. Do you know why at the end of every tractate it says, “May this be said and help against forgetfulness”? You know that? “May this be said and help against forgetfulness,” and then Pappa bar Abba and all those conclusions. Right, so people ask: what does it mean “help against forgetfulness”? It should help one remember, not help one forget. You want to forget? You want to remember. Of course, this is just wordplay, because “help against forgetfulness” means help against forgetting. But the question is still a nice little pilpul—why “help against forgetfulness”? The answer is very simple: who finishes tractates? Only people learning the daily Talmud. Right? People learning in depth, people learning in yeshivah, don’t finish tractates. Okay? What happens in the daily Talmud? You study page 3, you forgot page 2. You study page 4, you forget page 3. Study page 5, forget page 4. How will you forget the last page? “May this be said and help against forgetfulness”—meaning when you finish the tractate, say this, and then you’ll forget the last page too, everything’s fine, it’ll help you forget the last page too. This joke is of course a joke, but it says something that is serious. When you study broad survey, in the end what you hold in your head is first of all not the real thing. You say what Abaye said and what Rava said—but what is the meaning of it? What does that mean conceptually? How does one derive a halakhic conclusion from it? For that you need to understand the meaning of the words, not merely know what he said. You can know what he said and it won’t tell you anything. But beyond that, in the end not only are you holding the wrong thing—you also don’t hold it at all. You don’t hold it because you forget it; these are not things that can be remembered. If you understand the conceptual meaning of the words, then first, what you hold in your head is really the essential things. And second, it is not forgotten so quickly. Because it integrates with other sugyot, it’s built in your mind in a better way, you remember it better. Therefore I think that today the issue of Sinai versus uprooter of mountains—what’s preferable? So does it come out that the whole conclusion that Sinai is preferable is because afterward one gets to uprooting mountains better? Or is that unrelated? No, the Talmud says Sinai is preferable because everyone needs the master of wheat. Everyone needs the raw information. I want someone to tell me what the information is. The practical halakhah, as it were? What? The practical halakhah without the analysis? Not necessarily the practical halakhah, but I want to know the sources. This baraita—what did Rabbi Shimon say here, what did Rabbi Yehudah say there. Once this wasn’t written; it was an Oral Torah. So a person who studied and reviewed and retained it was very important; everyone needed the information he held. But today, when everything is written and accessible—and also information without analysis can lead to wrong conclusions? Correct, certainly. You need the information. Of course one also needs to know how to analyze, but without information you’re lost. But today we have the information. You don’t need anyone to hold the information by heart. It’s always good to know; the more one knows, of course the more it helps. It’s not that I’m against knowing. I’m only saying that today knowledge no longer has the role it had once. It doesn’t have the same weight it had before. Today the uprooter of mountains is much more important than Sinai. It’s much more important to understand, to compare one matter to another, to draw conclusions. The information you’ll get anyway. Rabbi, can you explain by way of an example—say, how do you understand “this one benefits and that one does not lose” in a broad-survey way and in an in-depth way? I think you heard this from me or read it; in “this one benefits and that one does not lose” it’s a very special sugya. There’s a Talmud in Bava Kamma, in chapter 2, because there the Talmud itself does this analysis. Usually this is an analysis done by the commentators. The medieval authorities. The Talmud begins: if a person lives in another’s courtyard without his knowledge, does he have to pay rent or not? A question about a case, a question of law, right? Then the Talmud begins—yes, someone said to him, Rabba bar bar Chana comes and says: too bad you weren’t with us; there were wonderful words in the study hall. What was it? So he says to him: the question is whether in a case where one benefits and the other does not lose, is he liable or exempt? You understand that this formulation is already a conceptual formulation? There is a case. The case is: you live in your fellow’s courtyard without his knowledge—must you pay him or not? A question. What do you do with that question? Great question—what do we do with it? In order to begin thinking about it, one has to conceptualize it. One has to try to define the conceptual dimension of the sugya. And there too the Talmud itself does this, which is rare. Usually the commentators do this, but there the Talmud itself does this. And the Talmud says: okay, let’s reformulate the question, and this time as a conceptual question. In a case where one benefits and the other does not lose, is he liable or exempt? Then the Talmud starts: what about where one benefits and the other does lose? And the medieval authorities discuss: what about where one does not benefit and the other loses? Various cases. And where one does not benefit and the other does not lose, as appears in the Talmud. Suddenly you have conceptual tools; you know how to classify the cases; you can draw conclusions about many other cases; you already have tools to compare one matter to another, because you understand what lies behind the simple legal question. Someone entered another’s courtyard—must he pay or not? That’s a legal question. And now you begin the conceptual analysis, and then you understand first, how one reaches conclusions here; and second, how one learns from this to other cases that are similar or not similar. Okay, so here the Talmud itself already begins the analysis, so it’s much easier. Afterward, of course, there are medieval and later authorities, and clearly one must continue; the Talmud itself only made the first step. But this is exactly an excellent example of the point. You can’t really compare case A to case B if you don’t understand the conceptual principles behind case A. Is case A really similar to case B? Not similar to case B? How do you know what is similar and what is not? If you don’t understand what lies behind it, you don’t know what is similar and what isn’t. It reminds me a bit of a problem in philosophy of science. In philosophy of science there is a very famous problem that various people pointed to from different directions, and they apparently didn’t notice that there is a connection between their different works. There was, for example, a British philosopher named Carr, who wrote a book—the Hebrew translation is called What Is History? And he says: suppose I want to examine how wars are won. I want to develop a military theory. How do you win wars? Okay, so I look at a war of Napoleon, I look at the Battle of Waterloo, I don’t know, all sorts of other battles, Scipio Africanus or whatever you want. I go over the various wars and try to understand how wars are won. Now you understand that this is impossible. If you don’t know what the important parameters are in winning a war, then what exactly are you supposed to look at in Waterloo to know why Napoleon lost? The clothes his soldiers wore? Their average height? The name of the mother of the adjutant of the fourth battalion from the left? What, what, what is important for winning wars? Clearly, you need some conceptual analysis in order to understand, before the empirical observation, before you examine the facts. You need to understand which facts to examine. And without understanding what causes victory in war and what does not, you can’t examine the facts. On the other hand people ask: yes, but if I have that understanding, then why do I need to examine the facts? Then I already know. And I examine the facts in order to get that understanding. So it’s not like that. I have some initial understanding, I test it against the facts. The facts correct that understanding for me, I adjust the theory a bit. Return to the facts, adjust the theory again. A kind of back-and-forth, until I arrive at some theory that really fits the facts, holds water, gives me some understanding of the matter. Then I can begin to understand. The same thing happens in conceptual learning. You look at the cases, you look at what the medieval and later authorities say, or the Talmud, but you also do the conceptual analysis. You do the conceptual analysis, and you know which cases should be compared and which cases should not be compared. Then you go to the cases, you test your theory on the cases, and little by little you succeed in building a better conceptual theory that fits the facts, explains the cases, and also gives you the ability to draw conclusions for other cases you have not encountered. So the method of conceptual learning is like that too. Therefore, without analysis, without analytical ability and conceptual ability, there is no such thing as broad survey. Broad survey without that is worth nothing. To know by heart what the Talmud says is not worth the paper it’s written on. It tells you nothing. You don’t know what to do with it. You cannot derive halakhic conclusions from it. You don’t understand what lies behind it. If you have conceptual skill, then you can study broad survey. Why? Because if you go quickly through a page, you can still extract from it the conceptual principles rather quickly. And true, there will be certain nuances, there will be some things you miss, but generally you’ll know most of the material. Then on the second pass you’ll complete it all. On the second pass you’ll add more. But you already basically hold the conceptual world in your hand. So regarding in-depth study versus broad survey—then perhaps according to this it’s preferable to study later authorities rather than medieval authorities? I don’t know if “preferable” is the right term. One needs to study both. But the analysis of the later authorities will certainly help you more in developing your conceptual ability. Except that afterward you need to test it on the cases in the Talmud and the medieval authorities. Exactly as I described earlier regarding history. And then you adjust your understanding of the conceptual principles again and return to the cases until you reach some kind of modus vivendi, some equilibrium in which the theory more or less fits the cases and you can rely on it and derive halakhic conclusions from it as well. And then you are basically—and you asked earlier how one arrives at halakhic conclusions—that is how one arrives at halakhic conclusions. One takes our basic conceptual understanding, tests it against the medieval and later authorities, looks: does it fit, does it not fit, does it explain Maimonides, explain Rashba, we see where it goes. We adjust our understandings in light of what we found. By the way, one does not always have to agree with Maimonides and Rashba, in my personal view. But yes, Maimonides and Rashba were important Torah scholars. It is worth using them to sharpen our tools. And after our tools are built, now we can derive conclusions according to Jewish law. The end of the conceptual process is the halakhic conclusion. These are not two different things; it’s the same thing. The end of the conceptual move is the conclusion we are supposed to reach. These are not two different studies. It’s the very same study. Now again, I’m saying: this is not so practical, because I also need to know what to do, and until I finish the whole Talmud in depth it will take a few days. So in the meantime one needs to know what to do. For that there is Kitzur Shulchan Arukh, Mishnah Berurah. It’s worth investing some time in studying them in order to know what to do. But that’s not really the true Torah study. It’s simply in order to know what to do, because until I get through all these subjects in depth—if I ever get there at all—it’s a huge amount of time, and I don’t want to stumble in transgressions. So yes, one has to know what to do. I’m only saying: but that is not Torah study. Torah study is study for the sake of study, not in order to know what to do. But true, it needs to end in a practical conclusion. But Rabbi, can one reach a conclusion against the conclusion of the Shulchan Arukh? In my opinion, yes, but that’s a topic for another lecture. That is my personal opinion. The overwhelming majority of halakhic decisors do not agree with this, but if I am not obligated to the Shulchan Arukh, then why would I be obligated to it? I certainly don’t ask you to accept what I’m saying if I allow myself not to accept what the Shulchan Arukh says, okay? So therefore I can only try to persuade you or give you reasons. In any case, that’s for another time. Good, I’ve gone on a bit, but I think broadly that’s what I wanted to say. Maybe I’ll add one more sentence. And this is the question: how does one acquire this conceptual ability? To cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He, is basically to internalize within yourself the conceptual modes of thinking, not the statements—this is impure, this is pure, this is permitted, this is forbidden. That is not what Torah says. Those are the conclusions. What Torah says is the ways of thinking, the forms of analysis, the methods of study. If we acquire that, then we also look at the world through those glasses. That is what it means to cleave to Torah or to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He. Not to know by heart what is written in the Shulchan Arukh. So how does one acquire it? I’m not belittling knowing the Shulchan Arukh by heart. I’m only saying that’s not the goal of Torah study and not the meaning of cleaving to the will of God or to the Holy One, blessed be He. The analysis enters your bones. You begin to think in that way in other areas too—then you are cleaving to Torah. Those are “glasses of Torah,” yes? To look at the world through glasses of Torah. That doesn’t mean to look in the Mishnah Berurah for the answer, but that your glasses are shaped by in-depth Torah study and with those glasses you look at the world. Those are the glasses, the outlook. Sorry—how does one acquire it? Acquire what? The conceptual insights and the analytical ability? That’s what I tried to describe earlier. You need to think about what seems right to you, test it against the later authorities and afterward against the medieval authorities, adjust, return, adjust again. Through that back-and-forth, after you’ve done it on many sugyot, gone through many medieval and later authorities who teach you, help you formulate your tools, then you are built. That is how one builds the tools. I don’t have anything more concrete than that. That is the meaning of tradition. The tradition of the Oral Torah is not in order to know what to do. The tradition of the Oral Torah is in order to transmit the tools, the tools of thought. And I use the medieval and later authorities in order to build my own tools. Not Maimonides’ tools and not the Mishnah Berurah’s tools—my tools. But my tools are built on Maimonides and the Mishnah Berurah and Rashba and everyone else. I use them; I test myself against them until I arrive at the conclusion that my tools are already built, they represent what I think. Okay? I just got stuck with one small question. What? I can’t hear. A small question. Until now, the way the Rabbi framed the matter, Torah study basically—or Torah, let’s say—consists of ideas that one can say are somehow connected to Jewish law, yes? Meaning, ideas that can be connected to this world and can lead to certain kinds of behavior. Yes, but those ideas can sometimes be very abstract. Those ideas can also deal with how time is structured, or whether migo is the power of a claim or “why would he lie,” or all sorts of things of that kind. It’s not necessarily very concrete things. Okay, but I see some kind of thread that leads from theory to practice, let’s say. And then my question is: what exactly is the canon about which one can say this is Torah and this is not Torah? Is it only a social matter? Meaning, what people usually think is Torah is Torah? For example, the Rabbi mentioned Nefesh HaChaim, but it’s clear to me that some scholar could see in Nefesh HaChaim all sorts of Neoplatonic and kabbalistic ideas and so on and so on. So basically, is what determines that something is Torah only the feeling that what I’m learning is Torah, or is there something specific that makes it Torah? That is a sugya that has to be discussed separately. I have written about it in several places. I made a distinction between Torah as object and Torah as subject. Torah as object means something that has an objective status of Torah. It doesn’t depend on what you think of it—whether you agree or disagree. If you studied it, you studied Torah. Torah as subject—yes, object and subject in the sense of Rabbi Chaim’s terminology—means Torah that has value for you; if you connect to it then it is Torah, and if not, then it is not. Now Torah as object—that is Jewish law and its commentators. That is Torah as object. That is the best definition I can give for it, though of course there are always marginal cases one can debate. But broadly it seems to me that is Torah as object. If you studied Ketzot HaChoshen or Rabbi Chaim or Rashba or something on halakhic sugyot, then you studied Torah. It doesn’t matter whether you agree with their conclusion or not, and as I said earlier you don’t have to agree with them—but you studied Torah. By contrast, in thought—Nefesh HaChaim, Guide for the Perplexed, Maharal, Rabbi Kook, I don’t know, each person and what he studies in other areas—that is Torah as subject. Meaning: if it helps you build your glasses, then it is Torah, but if not, then you are wasting your time. That is my personal opinion, and that too should be discussed separately—it has to be justified. But in the second book of the trilogy I speak about this, and if you also have the second book—you showed me the third one earlier—then you can read it there. I spell it out there at length. Not yet—I always start from the end, backward, as they say in Yiddish. Good. So I only want to finish with one more remark. On the one hand I spoke about a very great intellectual independence—that you have to decide, and your conclusion is the correct conclusion for you, and so on. On the other hand, on the way to the point where your conclusion becomes the Torah conclusion for you, one has to pass through a different phase. I’ll put it briefly through a story, and with that I’ll finish. When I was in Bnei Brak, at that time there were two important yeshivot there: Ponevezh and Slabodka. There are two differences between them that I noticed. One difference: in Slabodka everyone says what he thinks, more in the Chazon Ish style, a kind of layman’s thinking. In Ponevezh the thinking is very patterned, very analytical, very structured, very precise and sharp—you define the concepts, make very sharp distinctions, law in the subject, law in the object, a kind of Rabbi Chaim style, very very analytical. That’s one difference. The second difference is that almost all the heads of yeshivah came out of Ponevezh. Whoever later became a head of yeshivah was usually a graduate of Ponevezh and not of Slabodka. Slabodka graduates almost never became heads of yeshivah. And there is a connection between these two things. The style of learning in Ponevezh—if you work hard, even if you’re not a great genius—you come out as a person with excellent conceptual skill. Because you learn the patterns again and again and again; in every sugya it comes back anew. If a lecture started in Ponevezh, I could tell you how it would end, because there are these fixed patterns. If you’re sufficiently skilled, you know exactly. Every time. If you tell them something else, they won’t listen—they stop up their ears. They’re very square, because they’re very much according to fixed templates. And in Slabodka it’s the opposite. I spent a period in the Chazon Ish kollel, sat there, and I went crazy. I come from a Ponevezh education. So I sat there and went crazy—everyone says maybe it seems to me this way, maybe it seems that way. Just say something already. Okay, practical difference, what’s the definition of this, what’s the definition of that, why does it seem this way to you, why that way—nothing. It’s all these things floating in the air. And I think that’s why all the heads of yeshivah came from Ponevezh, or most of them. Because from there you can grow into a head of yeshivah even if you have only average talent. If you studied hard and really went through every sugya and listened well in the lecture, you’ll come out a head of yeshivah. And in Slabodka—not so. If you’re the Chazon Ish, you’ll come out the Chazon Ish. And if you’re not the Chazon Ish, then you won’t come out as anything. What are you saying? I’m saying this and that and maybe this and maybe that—from that nothing emerges. But on the other hand I want to claim that the correct method of study is neither Slabodka nor Ponevezh. It is to begin in Ponevezh and end in Slabodka. That is also Ponevezh’s mistake: the mistake of Ponevezh is that they also end in Ponevezh. And Slabodka’s mistake is that they begin in Slabodka. You need to begin in Ponevezh. There you will acquire the tools, hear what your lecturer says, study the later authorities, and try to understand what they are saying. Don’t begin by producing your own theories. Invest a few years in understanding what was done before you before you overturn the whole world. First try to understand what has been done until now—how people think, what yes and what no. There is a tradition to the Oral Torah. I’m very anarchistic, but tradition has importance. Tradition is the thing on which you build the next level. Anarchy that destroys the whole tower and builds something else in its place is worth nothing. You need to be an anarchist on the top floor, after you know the lower floors. Now build a floor of your own. So after… after you finish in Ponevezh and you already know how to give a general lecture like Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky on every sugya by yourself, now move to Slabodka. And now say what seems right to you, and examine what is logical and what is not logical, and build your own path in learning. Because you need to build your path, not Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky’s. But that doesn’t mean to leave Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky and replace him with something else; it means to build another floor on top of him. Understand very well what he said, because he was a very wise man, a great Torah scholar with a wonderful method of analysis. It wasn’t for nothing that he produced almost all the heads of yeshivah in the country. But on top of him build your Torah—not that you try to rewrite him and replicate him. One last story. My lecturer in the yeshivah in Bnei Brak had studied in Ponevezh under Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky, and he taught us Tractate Sukkah. Now at that time there were not yet written lectures of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky; they had not yet been published. That year, for the first time, the first volume of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky’s lectures on Tractate Sukkah came out. I opened the book and it was really embarrassing. The exact same lectures we had heard in class were written there. He had simply copied Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky. Now it was really unpleasant to come and say this to him; we had caught him red-handed. So I didn’t know what to do, but I was the student closest to him, sat in his class for five years. So in the end I dared do it anyway. I said to him: Rabbi, do you know that a book of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky’s lectures has come out? And he said: really? No, I hadn’t heard. I said to him: do you know that what you’re saying on Tractate Sukkah is written there word for word? I mean, it’s unbelievable. You have made me a happy man, he says to me. Do you know why? I never learned Sukkah under him. I never learned Tractate Sukkah under him. But he had so internalized Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky’s forms of analysis, that when he approached sugyot in Tractate Sukkah, he simply produced Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky on Tractate Sukkah. And I’m telling you—this happened to me personally, I saw it. At first I didn’t believe him that he had not studied Sukkah under Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky. I don’t think he lied to me. He had not studied Tractate Sukkah under Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky, but what he said was word for word what was written in Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky’s lectures. Now as far as he was concerned, this made him happy. I would have gone into depression if I discovered that, because it would mean that I am basically just a miniature Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky—which is no small thing; he was a gigantic Torah scholar. But my job is to be Michael Abraham, not Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky. But that comes after I have gone through the stage of Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky, not instead of it. After. Okay, I’ll stop here. If anyone wants to comment further or ask, then gladly. Rabbi, I wanted to ask: at the beginning you spoke about why study Torah, and you answered: just because. If someone comes and asks me why study Torah and I answer him “just because,” that means that for him it’s not self-evident. How do I explain to someone for whom it is not self-evident why to study Torah? I can’t just tell him “just because,” even if for me it’s self-evident; for him it may not be. I can tell him that this is our way of cleaving to the Holy One, blessed be He. That is a kind of explanation. It is not a means, because this itself is the cleaving, as I said before—it is not a means to cleaving—but this is our way to cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He. You cannot cleave to Him in another way. How does one cleave to the Holy One, blessed be He? One cleaves to what He wants. I don’t have a better explanation than that. Okay, and how does one decide when something is self-evident and when something is not self-evident? Is it only intuition? I didn’t understand. I don’t know, I don’t have an example right now, but if I ask myself a question, how do I decide whether to answer it with “just because” or answer it by means of a logical structure? If it is self-evident to you, then it is self-evident to you. You don’t have to decide—you have to think whether it is self-evident to you or not. But earlier, when you told me that Torah study is self-evident, it was not self-evident to me. Okay, then what can one do? I have no way to convince you about things that are self-evident to me and not to you. That is exactly the difference between propositions that I have a way to prove—in which case I can convince you too—and axioms. If my axioms are different from yours, then usually it is quite hard to convince you of those axioms. Though sometimes one can, through implications—show you the implication, ask you to think about it again, maybe in the end you’ll find that you do agree—but yes, it can also be impossible. What I’m saying is directed to those people within whom there is this insight, this “just because,” that it is self-evident to study Torah. Except that many times people feel that it isn’t rational. What do you mean, “just because”? There has to be a reason why I do something. So to them I want to suggest: notice, no, there doesn’t have to be a reason. You can relate to it rationally even like this. Even if you don’t have an external reason for why you study Torah. If you don’t feel at all that this is really self-evident to you, then indeed this won’t help. But if you do feel that it is self-evident to you, only you don’t accept it because you think a rational person has to have explanations—then to that I want to suggest: not true. There doesn’t have to be an explanation. And I direct my words to those people who feel as I do. Whoever does not feel as I do—it is indeed harder to convince him of this. Okay, I understand. And in learning there are several methods. There is the conceptual method, there are several methods, there is the Sephardic style of analysis, and there is Lithuanian conceptual learning, and there is this. Whatever speaks to you. Whatever speaks to me, okay. I understand, okay. Anyone else? Okay. We’ll take leave. Thank you very much. It was very nice to meet, especially the two that I know, but also the others. And may you have much success. Hold on—hold on to the Torah in Paris. Amen, thank you Rabbi. Goodbye, much success. Thank you very much, Rabbi. Thank you very much, have a good week.