The Tzomet Institute or the Weizmann Institute – Second Continuation (Column 756)

With God’s help

In column 121 I touched on the question whether it is preferable to be a synagogue sexton (as a metaphor) rather than a physicist like Einstein (another metaphor). That is, whether Torah study and the observance of commandments are, by definition, preferable to any other pursuit, however exalted it may appear to us. A few months ago I was reminded that I had written there that I wished to address this question more directly and systematically. I now saw that I had already touched on this issue in column 557 (there too following a reminder of that promise), which was given the title of a continuation of that earlier column. Here I will complete the discussion in a column that serves as the second continuation in the series.

The problem

In column 121 I cited this wonderful song. The song mocks the traditional Jewish scale of values, according to which Einstein—whose genius created a considerable part of our knowledge of physics—stands lower on the ladder than the synagogue sexton who arranges the benches every morning with devotion and makes sure the herring is cut for the kiddush. On its face, that really does seem to be what emerges from the Torah value scale, since Einstein did not believe in God (certainly not the Jewish one, and not in a personal God at all) and did not observe commandments, while his contribution was in a field that has scientific value but not Torah value. By contrast, the synagogue sexton is devoted to his task and enables all of us to observe commandments and connect to Torah and the service of God. So which of the two will sit higher in the Garden of Eden? One might also ask: which of them contributes more to the world and to humanity? Ostensibly, the sexton, since the world exists for the service of God and not for scientific research. Scientific research is only a (positive) human drive, and at most it has human-cultural value, but the service of God is supposed to be the essence of our existence, and indeed of the world’s existence in general.

If I broaden the matter, one may also wonder regarding a private individual who lives within the world of faith and religion: is it better for him to devote his life to being a synagogue sexton, or is there legitimacy—and perhaps even preference—in engaging in scientific research, or in developing culture and art (for example, being a writer), and the like? And if we go even further inward, is it better to be a full-time yeshiva scholar who studies Torah all his life, or rather a working layman who engages in scientific research or art and sets fixed times for Torah study? Here it becomes more extreme, since Torah study too is an intellectual pursuit (with all due respect to cutting herring and reciting blessings for those called up to the Torah), and if we are already comparing intellectual pursuits such as scientific research and Torah study, then seemingly it is all the more obvious that Torah study is preferable.

For example, Avishai asked in the responsa section here a few months ago:

Hello Rabbi, do you think an ideal person should devote his entire life to Torah study?
For example, if I am very drawn to physics but I can continue studying Torah in yeshiva, should I stay in yeshiva and not pursue a degree, and only someone who can no longer continue studying Torah in yeshiva should go on to become professors and lawyers, etc. I would be glad to hear the Rabbi’s position and why?

In the Haredi world, this dilemma would sound bizarre, since it is seen as expressing a lack of understanding of the essence and centrality of the service of God, and also insufficient Torah commitment—a kind of religious laxity. But in a modern religious world this question sounds much more significant, and I think quite a few people struggle with it. And note carefully: I do not mean here the fact that many in the modern world do not devote their lives to Torah but prefer other pursuits. That too can be seen as a kind of weakness—because of the need for a livelihood, because they are not suited to constant Torah study, and the like. It is precisely within those outlooks that see scientific research and worldly occupation as a kind of value, perhaps even a Torah value, that the question arises in its full force: is there not here an element of laxity, of insufficient religious commitment and devotion to the service of God? Are we not turning weakness into an ideology?

The value of free choice

In column 354 I cited an article by a Haredi man named Moshe Shpirer, in which he complained that in the Haredi world there is no possibility of freely choosing to engage in a non-Torah profession. There, turning to other fields of occupation is basically seen as a weakness, even if it is accepted after the fact. I showed there that Shpirer even hints that there is value in choice itself, even with respect to faith and religious commitment. In any event, his article deals with the importance of choice in all spheres.

But on second thought, it seems that even Shpirer himself does not really conceive of those other occupations differently in themselves. He recommends allowing a choice of other occupational directions (education and livelihood) because of the value of free choice. In the subtext, this rests on the fact that not everyone is suited to Torah study, and also on the need for a livelihood. Others in the Haredi world agree to that as well. What was distinctive in his remarks was that beyond those needs, he adds another dimension: the value of a person’s free choice of his own path. But note that in such a line of argument there is no real departure from the Haredi mode of thinking I described (except for the importance assigned to choice, which does not characterize Haredi thought). By implication, it is evident that Shpirer too agrees that Torah occupation is the central thing, and that it should be pursued first and foremost before any other occupation. The point is only that because not everyone wants this or is suited to it, there is value not only in recognizing that, but even in giving them free choice. In his view, the very fact that they choose the other direction (the less important one) is itself valuable. But there is no statement in his words that the other direction itself has value—that is, that it is genuinely important to engage in those other fields. For him, what matters is only human beings’ freedom of choice to engage in different fields and earn a living. Thus you will not find there even a hint of the question whether one should choose shoemaking, running a grocery store, or engaging in scientific research. The reason you will not find such a discussion there is that his basic premise is that the occupations themselves have no value. None of these things is truly important, since they are not connected to Torah and commandments. His claim is only that despite that, there is value in giving people the choice to engage in those (valueless) fields.

Here I want to examine a more radical thesis, according to which engaging in the other fields has intrinsic importance, and can come, ideally and from the outset, in place of Torah study because of that importance. And note carefully: I am not speaking about the importance of choice and freedom for people to engage in different directions. I am speaking even about someone who is suited to Torah study and wants it (like the questioner quoted above). I want to examine the claim in the thing itself and not only in the person; that is, that the importance of scientific research does not lie only in the fact that a person chooses a different direction, but that this pursuit itself has importance and value. And here scientific research may differ from shoemaking or grocery-keeping.

Column 557

In that column I discussed the contribution of these pursuits in three circles: to humanity, to Judaism, and to the individual himself. I did not reach a clear conclusion there, even though from a narrow Torah perspective the answer seemingly suggests itself. In the second part of that column, I dealt with the complex relationship between the basic and the important. I showed that there is one side according to which general pursuits are more basic and Torah pursuit is more important, and also an opposite side. For our purposes, what I want to take from there is that universal value-considerations are not foreign to Jewish-Torah judgment. Values of human and cultural development (and certainly their contribution to health, to life, and even to Torah study) are part of the world of Torah in a broader sense.

All of this discussion concerned the question whether these pursuits have Torah value. But here I would like to touch on the matter from a more radical point of view, and ask whether they need to have Torah value at all.

“In all your ways know Him” (“In all your ways know Him”)

The Talmud in Berakhot 63a cites the verse from Proverbs (3:6):

Bar Kappara expounded: What is the brief passage upon which all the essentials of Torah depend? “In all your ways know Him, and He will make your paths straight.” Rava said: Even with regard to a sinful matter.

This is a passage upon which all the essentials of Torah depend. What is so special about it? It seems to establish the basis upon which we are to conduct ourselves in the world. Everything in our lives should be conducted on the basis of awareness of God and standing before Him. A number of commentators (see, for example, Birkei Yosef, Orach Chayim, sec. 231, subsec. 3) explain Rava’s statement in this way as well: even if a person is forced to commit a transgression (for a higher purpose, or under a prophet’s temporary instruction), he must do so for the sake of Heaven—and certainly so in discretionary matters.

The Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chayim sec. 231, devotes an entire section to this, containing one law with an addition from the Rema (the Tur elaborated on this more, and one can also understand from there the heading given to this section):

231. That all his intentions should be for the sake of Heaven, and it contains one סעיף.

If he cannot study without an afternoon nap, he should sleep. Gloss: And when he awakens from his sleep, he need not recite “My God, the soul” (Beit Yosef); and some say that before he sleeps he should recite: “May the pleasantness” (Psalms 90:17) (Kol Bo); provided that he not prolong it, for it is forbidden to sleep during the day more than a horse’s sleep, which is sixty breaths. And even in this small amount, his intention should not be for bodily pleasure, but to strengthen his body for the service of the blessed God. So too, in everything from which he derives enjoyment in this world, he should not intend for his own pleasure, but for the service of the Creator, blessed be He, as it is written: “In all your ways know Him” (Proverbs 3:6), and the Sages said: Let all your deeds be for the sake of Heaven. Thus even optional matters, such as eating and drinking, walking, sitting, rising, marital relations, conversation, and all your bodily needs, should all be for the service of your Creator, or for something that leads to His service. For even if one is thirsty and hungry, if he eats and drinks for his own pleasure, he is not praiseworthy; rather, he should intend to eat and drink as needed for his survival, in order to serve his Creator. Likewise, even sitting in the counsel of the upright, standing in the place of the righteous, and walking in the advice of the blameless—if he does so for his own enjoyment and to fulfill his own desire and craving, he is not praiseworthy unless he does it for the sake of Heaven. So too with lying down: needless to say, when he can be engaged in Torah and commandments, he should not indulge in sleep in order to pamper himself; rather, even when he is weary and needs sleep in order to rest from his exertion, if he does so for bodily pleasure, he is not praiseworthy. Instead, he should intend to give sleep to his eyes and rest to his body for the sake of health, so that his mind not become confused in Torah because of lack of sleep. Likewise with marital relations: even at the times prescribed by the Torah, if one does so to satisfy his desire or for bodily pleasure, this is disgraceful. And even if he intends so that he may have children who will serve him and take his place, that is not praiseworthy; rather, he should intend that he have children for the service of his Creator, or intend to fulfill the commandment of conjugal duty like a person repaying a debt. So too with speech: even when speaking words of wisdom, his intention should be for the service of the Creator or for something that leads to His service. In sum, a person is obligated to set his eyes and heart upon his ways and weigh all his deeds on the scales of his intellect; and when he sees something that will lead to the service of the Creator, blessed be He, he should do it, and if not, he should not do it. One who conducts himself in this way serves his Creator constantly.

That is, every action one performs should be directed toward the service of God and weighed according to its contribution to the service of God.

In these terms, the question whether to engage in different pursuits is supposed to be based on the question of how much this contributes to the service of God. One can even go further and cite the well-known Maimonides at the beginning of chapter 2 of the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah:

1. This honored and awesome God commands us to love and fear Him, as it is said, “And you shall love the Lord your God,” and it is said, “The Lord your God shall you fear.”

2. And what is the way to love Him and fear Him? When a person contemplates His great and wondrous deeds and creations, and from them sees His wisdom, which has no measure and no end, he immediately loves, praises, glorifies, and yearns with a great longing to know the great Name, as David said: “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” And when he reflects on these very matters, he immediately recoils in fear and dreads, knowing that he is a small, lowly, dark creature standing with slight and meager understanding before the Perfect Knower, as David said: “When I behold Your heavens, the work of Your fingers… what is man that You remember him?” In accordance with these matters I will explain important principles from the workings of the Master of the universe, so that they may serve as an opening for one who understands to love God, as the Sages said concerning love: through this, you come to recognize the One who spoke and the world came into being.

According to his view, these pursuits (or at least some of them) are part of the commandments of loving and fearing God. Note that even there, no intrinsic value is attributed to engaging in scientific and philosophical research; rather, the point is that it brings one closer to God, to love and fear of Him.

I would like to challenge this picture on two planes.

A. The status of universal values

Is this line of argument really necessary? Must we assume, in order to justify such pursuits, that engaging in them arouses within us feelings of love and closeness to the Holy One, blessed be He? And if that does not happen, must we abandon them? The assumption underlying such a view is that these pursuits have no intrinsic value. Engaging in them in itself is worth nothing, unless it brings us closer to the Holy One, blessed be He.

I am very far from certain of that. There is a sense that these pursuits have intrinsic value. Think how you would regard a gentile who engages in these occupations. Suppose he does so without any connection to God or to religious belief at all. It still seems that such a person conducts himself in a more valuable way than someone who does not engage in these matters. That is an indication that these pursuits have value beyond considerations of the service of God. To avoid misunderstanding, I am not claiming that there is moral value here. There is human and cultural value here. A person who does this is a more complete person than one who does not (even if he is not more moral than him).

B. A different look at the relationship between Torah and the world

If one goes deeper, there is a more basic assumption here: that Torah is the infrastructure of our existence in the world, and that everything that has value does so only because of it and for its sake. All our daily lives require justification in Torah terms. But I doubt even that. I too tend to think that Torah and its observance are the purpose for which God created the world. But once the world has been created, there is room for a different point of view, according to which proper conduct in the world is a goal with intrinsic value.

In columns 420 – 421 I discussed the relationship between the commandments and life. In the second column, I brought the two explanations in the passage in Yoma 85b regarding overriding the Sabbath in the face of danger to life. R. Shimon ben Menasya says: Desecrate one Sabbath on his behalf so that he may keep many Sabbaths. He appears to measure the value of life by the number of Sabbaths we will keep, meaning that on his view the value of life lies only in the fact that it enables us to observe commandments. Life is a means to the commandments. By contrast, Shmuel there offers another reason: “And live by them”—and not die by them, and from there the opposite hierarchy seems to emerge: the commandments cannot endanger life (even a possible threat to life overrides the Sabbath), and if observance of the commandments puts us in mortal danger, that is not worth it. It appears that the value of life is independent, and that life is not only an instrument for observance of commandments. Perhaps even the reverse: the commandments are a means to live properly, but life is the goal. Therefore, it is unreasonable to let the commandments endanger life.

If we broaden the perspective a bit, we can suggest here an unconventional way of looking at the relationship between Torah and life: Torah is meant to accompany life and guide us in how to live. But life is not handed over to the observance of Torah. Therefore, if observance of Torah endangers life, we give up Torah and not life. Torah tells us how to live, but life itself does not branch out from Torah and does not draw its meaning from it. The meaning of this is that Jewish law and the commandments are a kind of set of constraints with which we must manage while living our lives. Conduct in life is like that of any ethical person, regardless of faith. But over the course of life one must preserve and observe Jewish law.

On this view, the purpose of creation is not the observance of commandments and Jewish law, but valuable human life, accompanied by observance of Jewish law. God wants a physicist/philosopher/artist who keeps the commandments and fears Heaven. He may also want a God-fearing shoemaker, for the world needs shoemakers. Yet there is still room for a value-hierarchy between shoemaking and philosophy, art, or science. That hierarchy does not reflect a Torah scale of values but a universal human one. Upon that universal scale of values rides the requirement to observe Jewish law. I do not go on to become a philosopher or a scientist because that is what Torah wants (because I found it through equidistant letter skips in the book of Joshua). I go there because, in my judgment, it is very important and valuable. Alongside that, I am careful to observe Jewish law. This may seem like only a nuance, but the distance between the meanings is very great.

I want to argue here that the expression ‘a secular person/gentile with a kippah,’ which sounds to us like a pejorative, is not really such a thing. Indeed, that is what God wants from us: to be secular people with a kippah. There is nothing wrong with our daily, ongoing lives looking like those of a secular (ethical) person, so long as we observe Jewish law. I know that sounds bad, but I absolutely do not rule out the possibility that this is merely the result of long years of education and habituated ways of thinking.

The continuation of the verse perhaps even says this: In all your ways know Him, and He will make your paths straight. That is, Torah accompanies life in order to straighten its paths. The paths do not serve the knowledge of God; rather, the knowledge of God guides and accompanies the paths. The meaning is that in all our ways we must pay attention not to deviate from Jewish law, but this does not mean that all our steps must be derived from Jewish law and Torah. Perhaps that is also what is written in the first half: In all your ways know Him, that is, to be aware of standing before God in every occupation and along every path. The Hasidic conception sees this almost literally as Torah: every apple we eat is a kind of service of God, and Torah and the Holy One, blessed be He, fill everything. I propose a different way: all these pursuits have value, though not necessarily Torah value, and alongside that it is proper to maintain one’s stance before the Holy One, blessed be He, and observe His commandments.

A look at neglect of Torah study

One implication of this picture concerns neglect of Torah study. In my article on reasoning, I pointed to the contradiction between the passage in Menachot 99b and the passage in Berakhot 35b. In Menachot, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai says that reciting the Shema morning and evening is enough to fulfill the commandment of Torah study, whereas Rabbi Ishmael argues that one must study all the time (except for an hour that is neither day nor night). By contrast, in the passage in Berakhot the opinions ostensibly reverse: Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai says that one may not even engage in earning a living and worldly occupation, whereas Rabbi Ishmael says that one may. See my article there as to why not only is there no contradiction here, but there is no halakhic dispute between the tannaitic sages either (their dispute concerns Torah study and not the commandment of Torah study. See on this also column 479).

I noted there that the later authorities do see a contradiction between the passages, and explain in various ways that the parameters of the commandment of Torah study are flexible (see also my article on leisure in Jewish law). A person should study whenever he can, but livelihood and other occupations justify neglect of Torah study. The question is, of course, what those occupations are—legitimate or valuable ones—that justify neglect of Torah study. One may adopt the restrictive view, according to which anything not strictly required is unjustified. The broader view says that any reasonable occupation of an ordinary person is a sufficient basis to be exempt halakhically, though of course it is still proper to try to study as much as possible. What I am saying here is that there are mundane pursuits that have intrinsic value, and therefore they certainly constitute a value-based justification for neglect of Torah study (that is, here there is not only what jurists call an ‘excuse defense,’ but also a ‘justification defense’). They do not draw their value from Torah but from the universal value inherent in them, and that alone is enough to justify engaging in them. I do not need a source in Torah that would justify this.

If we return to the comparison between Einstein and the sexton, it is clear that in the narrow Torah sense the sexton is preferable. He is occupied with matters of Torah and commandments (such as cutting the herring for the kiddush). But from a universal human perspective Einstein is certainly preferable, and therefore, in the dilemma whether to direct my son—or to become myself—a sexton or Einstein, the answer may be different for different people. And this is so even without finding support for it in Torah, or some explicit Torah value grounded in a Torah source.

I will add that it is commonly assumed that there is a dispute among medieval authorities over whether there is anything in our lives that deserves the label ‘a discretionary matter’ (see the above-mentioned article on leisure in Jewish law). According to Chovot HaLevavot, it seems that every action we perform is either forbidden or obligatory. There is no discretionary domain, because if one is not obligated to do it, then it is a waste of time and neglect of Torah study. By contrast, according to Maimonides in his Commentary on the Mishnah on Avot, ch. 1, it seems that there are also discretionary matters. Rabbi Lichtenstein wrote more than once that even within what is called a ‘discretionary matter,’ there is what is fitting and what is unfitting. It is not a domain that is necessarily neutral. One may understand him as referring to what I have written here. There are actions that, from the standpoint of Torah and Jewish law, are discretionary matters, and yet there is still right and wrong there, fitting and unfitting, better and worse. But here I argue that the scale of the fitting and the unfitting in that domain is not necessarily derived from Torah.

The principled difficulty: between Torah and the will of God

I have often pointed out that there is no basis for the validity of values unless they are grounded in the will of God (see, for example, column 456). At first glance, that stands in direct contradiction to everything written so far. Here I wrote that values not grounded in Torah have independent standing. I assume that there will be readers who ask themselves this very question, and so I am answering it in advance.

I have often written other things as well. For example, that this does not mean that everything is based on Jewish law, or even on Torah. Morality, for example, is, in my view, a category independent of Jewish law (see, for example, column 541). In addition, I have also written that ordinarily we do not derive morality from Torah (because in such areas we trust our conscience and our reasoning, and if we find something in Torah that contradicts them we explain it differently). It follows that values that are not halakhic are not learned from Torah, but they still draw their validity from the will of God. Does that fit with what we have seen here? After all, here I explained that such values are not Torah values but universal ones.

But that is a mistake. Moral values too are universal (I have often written that morality by definition is universal. There is no such thing as ‘Jewish morality’), and yet they are valid because of the will of God. The same applies to the values of engaging in science, art, or philosophy. This too is the will of God, even though it does not necessarily have a source in Torah and does not draw its validity from Torah (as I noted, one does not need a Torah source to justify engagement in those fields). I know that this is the will of God because inwardly I understand that it has value, and no value is valid unless it is the will of God. Exactly as we saw regarding moral values.

Therefore, engaging in science is a value that is not a Torah value, but its source is still the will of God. Even so, it is not a Torah value but a universal one. I arrive at it just as any atheist gentile understands it. I engage in that field out of the same consciousness as the gentile. Except that in my case, at least on the philosophical level (even if not necessarily on the level of conscious intention, in the sense that commandments require intention), it draws from the will of God. I claim that such a gentile is inconsistent, since values have no validity unless they are grounded in the will of God, and yet my consciousness is not necessarily different from his, nor does it need to be. Commandments require intention because their value lies in the very fact that they are the fulfillment of God’s will (and despite that, as is known, there is a dispute whether this is indispensable). But a worthy life does not necessarily require intention. And even if it does (one might argue that it is more fitting to do everything with the awareness that I am serving God), it does not require a Torah source that would authorize and confirm it.

Of course, this greatly narrows the meaning of my claim. In the end, instead of speaking about Torah value, I am speaking about a value rooted in the will of God, even though it is not learned from Torah. Even so, I think the implications we saw remain in place. Usually people expect a source from Torah or an explicit Torah justification in order to legitimize engaging in those fields. Therefore, when you ask them about Einstein and the sexton, it will be quite hard for them to answer, and at most they will invent for you some dubious Torah source (which probably itself decided the matter on the basis of reason and then attached itself to one verse or another). According to my proposal, none of this is needed.

Another implication: fleeing to the deserts

Quite often, especially in discussions about Haredim, military conscription, and work, the fear of corruption arises. The claim is that they are unwilling to engage in worldly fields because of neglect of Torah study, Heaven forbid, and also because of the fear that they may ‘go bad.’ I will not enter here once again into the arguments about how unfounded I think this claim is (in my view, their lives as they are now are no less corrupted, and even if that were not so, fear of corruption does not exempt one from obligations toward one’s surroundings. That is your consideration, and it cannot come at others’ expense). I only want to mention one point connected to my argument here. One of my counterarguments on this matter is that it is not right to avoid normal life—and certainly not in spheres that have value—out of fear that we may be corrupted. Torah was not given to ministering angels, nor does it expect us to live in a monastery. We are meant to live full lives, and to do so within a framework that preserves Torah and commandments. If preserving Torah and commandments requires us to detach from life (normal life, like that of any reasonable gentile), I say: “And live by them”—and not die by them. Torah descended into the world so that we should observe it in the world, not so that we should detach from the world in order to observe it. And note this well: it is not because there is no fear of corruption. There certainly is. My claim is that this fear does not justify detachment from the world.

My friend Rabbi Avraham Blidstein once said something beautiful to me in this connection. By way of introduction, Maimonides says that if a person sees that he cannot overcome his impulse, he should flee to caves in the desert. I once read in the name of the Alter of Novardok that he wondered to whom Maimonides’ words are addressed. After all, an ordinary person would never think of obeying him. Perforce, he is speaking to a person so great that he would be prepared to flee and live in a cave in the desert, and even such a person, if he sees that there is a danger he may be corrupted, should flee to the deserts.

Well, that is a nice homiletical point, but as Rabbi Blidstein said to me, none of us really does this, and I do not think there is any decisor or rabbi who would seriously recommend it. Is every one of us who knows he will fail in the matter of slander supposed to flee and live in the desert? In principle, apparently yes. But in practice it does not seem that this is the will of Torah. Usually people will explain this as mere surrender to our weaknesses, but here I claim that it is not that at all. This is a policy based on the most fundamental understanding of what Torah is and what our mission in the world is. Torah must be implemented in the world, with all its complexities and expanses. It is not right to give up normal life, to flee to a monastery or to a cave in the desert, in order to observe Torah. Life is a value in itself, and Torah comes to guide us in how to live it together with the observance of commandments; it certainly does not come to replace it. And if observance of commandments requires us to give up life, that is unacceptable.

Something of this sort I wrote in my article on honoring parents versus career. I explained there that one is not obligated to give up matters that are essential to oneself in order to honor one’s parents, and this is not because of one verse or another (“Each man shall fear his mother and his father,” and keep My commandments). My claim there was that this is a limitation on the commandment of honoring parents grounded in reason and in the understanding of what Torah is. A person is not meant to give up his life for the sake of Torah (except in extreme cases that require self-sacrifice), and no verse is needed for this.

Yet another implication: the Haredi attitude to the internet and the smartphone

As is well known, among the Haredim an additional severe prohibition has arisen in recent years—the gravest negative commandment of them all, namely the transgression of the non-kosher smartphone, which is apparently graver than all the transgressions in the Torah. They tend to point to the dangers of the smartphone and of the internet in general (I have never managed to understand what they have specifically against SMS), which, as is known, destroys families and people, brings every abomination into the home, Heaven forbid, and the like. Many of them bring examples (always from personal acquaintance, of course), and present this as though it were a broad and destructive phenomenon from which every household suffers. Incidentally, only today I saw a heated article in which the hardal camp joins this approach, as part of its being a distinctly Haredi sect that differs from ordinary Haredim mainly by reciting Hallel on Independence Day. Even the style there is unmistakably Haredi.

This description is exaggerated, but one cannot deny that there is something to it. I am fully aware of the dangers of the internet and far from belittling them: wasted time, pornography, and more (though not exposure to other opinions. That ‘danger’ is not a danger but a benefit). And indeed, on the face of it all these people are right. There really are various dangers in exposure to the internet, and there is certainly no principle of faith requiring the use of a smartphone. So why not prohibit it? I mention this here because, in my opinion, the smartphone issue is an excellent example of what I have been talking about.

The main reason, in my understanding, that it is not right to prohibit the smartphone and the internet is that they are an inseparable part of the world and of life nowadays, and therefore a priori it is not right to give them up. As I explained, Torah is supposed to be implemented in the world and not in a bubble, and the smartphone and the internet are an important part of the contemporary world. Prohibiting the internet is roughly like abstaining from wheeled vehicles, from reading books, or from going on vacation. In all of these there are dangers (danger to life or spiritual dangers), and yet it would not be reasonable to instruct people to abstain from them. Exactly as I argued above, by the same logic we ought to abstain from life in society and flee to the desert. Note that I am not bringing a source for permission, nor am I explaining that there is no danger or prohibition here. I am saying that there are dangers, and nevertheless no such source is needed. Life does not need a source. It has a standing that is not dependent on Torah sources (though one can, of course, bring sources for it, as for anything). One can also point to the enormous advantages of the internet: communication between people (SMS, email, WhatsApp), immense amounts of information, an efficient way to perform tasks remotely and learn important things in different fields, and much more.

True, from the Haredi perspective the advantages of learning important things in various fields are disadvantages and prohibitions. In my estimation, the Haredim would not prohibit the internet so hysterically if the issue were only pornography. What bothers them mainly is exposure to opinions, questions, and positions that do not fit Haredi dogmas (like my website). But in practice, even they understand that one cannot really manage without it, and they know how to wink when necessary. A particularly amusing indication of this can be found in this report, which describes a fascinating phenomenon. A study conducted at Ariel University found that a large majority of yeshiva instructors in Haredi yeshivot use the internet to prepare their lessons, despite the severe prohibition and the well-known destruction of families. Even so, of course they will not permit internet use, because what troubles them is exposure to opinions and arguments, and their great fear of the collapse of Haredi insularity and separatism. But the need exists, and therefore all this will continue to be managed with winks and nods. Life is stronger—but that is no reason to stop waging all-out war against it.

The Haredi media as well are part of the same bubble, since they are run by committees of rabbis and operatives, again under the pretext of preserving Haredi values (so that, Heaven forbid, no slander should be heard there—except for the slander directed at all the other groups that are not the group of the newspaper in question). It is no wonder that everyone bypasses that media with the kind assistance of the forbidden internet. And I have not even spoken about the dependence they develop on their surroundings in every respect: medicine, defense, internal security (police), court systems, livelihood and economy, various government services, psychological care, and more. All this stems from the fact that they are not willing to contribute anything whatsoever to any of it, and yet they demand that the surrounding society act on their behalf (in the name of equality and democracy—values that, of course, are not included in their own basket of values).

Incidentally, for this reason I tend not to comply with the many requests I have received in the past from Haredim to open channels that would not be blocked for them (telephone lectures, printed hard copies, and the like). Their separatist policy contains an insolent lack of consideration for their surroundings. There is no way to communicate with them except by telephone call, which does not suit everyone. The internet is closed to them, and so the surrounding society is supposed to provide them with alternative means of communication and activity. Anyone who does not want communication with the surrounding world, and hands himself over to internal censorship and submits to it, should solve his own problems and bear the consequences. I am not willing to do anything for those who decide to shut themselves off from the world, especially when this is done at the expense of the world around them, which is expected to adapt itself to their whims. Whoever wants to shut himself in should remain shut in to his heart’s content. I also do not accept the claim that the individual is not to blame because society forces this upon him. Society is just the collection of its members, and if they did not submit to these whims it would not happen. Whoever wants to repair the society in which he lives should be prepared to pay prices, rather than cast upon his surroundings the duty to work on his behalf.

But I have brought all this here not only to vent my spleen, but also to illustrate why these needs are an inseparable part of life, and why it is therefore not right (and not really possible either) to adopt a policy that cuts itself off from them.

The personal and public dilemma

At the margins of my remarks I will add a few more points. The question what is more important than what (Torah or other pursuits) does not necessarily dictate what one specific person or another should do. Torah is both a personal mission and a national mission. Society has a division of labor, and it is certainly not right to demand that everyone do only what is most important, or focus only on what is most important. In my responsum here I explained this, and I said that even if one assumes that Torah is everything, it still does not mean that everyone should engage only in it. In this column I have added a point that did not arise there, namely that I doubt whether Torah really is everything. Of course, this is no less true regarding the other pursuits. We are not speaking here about all-encompassing and universal algorithms, but about different avenues of action that may open up before different people.

More than once in the past (see columns 139, 231 and 240), I have discussed the ‘Gauguin dilemma.’ If there is a person whose talents and diligence in Torah enable him to grow in an exceptional way, there is certainly room for him to devote his entire life and energy to Torah in its narrow sense (see, for example, column 682), even at the expense of many other important values. Such a person lives in a monastery, and the justification for this is that the public needs it. But these are post facto lives. God wants from us a spread across all the expanses of life, beyond Torah as well. Both the monastery and engagement in other fields are part of that same social division of tasks. There is room for a limited number of such ‘monastic’ figures. The public needs them too, even though this is very far from the ideal figure, and certainly not the only one. Others, especially those whose talents incline them in other directions, should engage in science, art, shoemaking, and the like.

Therefore, if we return to the question whether Einstein is preferable to the synagogue sexton, beyond the fact that the answer is by no means unequivocal, it is certainly not universal. Each person may have a different answer. My claim is that the ‘permission’ to engage in other fields is not an expression of weakness or a resignation to the inability of certain people. On the contrary: the ideal, from the outset, is that Torah should be realized across the expanses of life. Even if there is room for monks, that is only after the fact, because society also needs those who attend to the necessities of life. As a rule, the public ought to be engaged in the world and in life, and only a few may be allowed to live in monasteries (or in ‘Noah’s arks’). If anyone needs permission, it is the segregated ‘monk,’ not the person who is engaged in developing the world and in worldly civilization.

I do not know whether this is what Maimonides had in mind when he wrote in the Laws of Torah Study (ch. 3, laws 10–11):

10. Anyone who decides in his heart to engage in Torah study and not work, and to support himself from charity—such a person has desecrated God’s name, disgraced the Torah, extinguished the light of religion, caused evil to himself, and forfeited his life in the World to Come; for it is forbidden to derive benefit from words of Torah in this world. The Sages said: Whoever derives benefit from words of Torah forfeits his life from the world. They further commanded and said: Do not make them a crown with which to aggrandize yourself, nor a spade with which to dig. They also commanded and said: Love work and hate authority; and any Torah that is not accompanied by work will in the end come to nothing and lead to sin. Ultimately, such a person will come to rob others.

11. It is a great virtue for one to support himself through the work of his own hands, and this was the way of the early pious ones. Through this he merits all honor and goodness in this world and in the World to Come, as it is said: “When you eat the labor of your hands, you are fortunate, and it is good for you”—“you are fortunate” in this world, “and it is good for you” in the World to Come, which is wholly good.

I do not know whether Maimonides intended all the occupations I am speaking about, but it is possible that he did. As is known, for him the concept of ‘Torah’ also includes other wisdoms (see the Laws of the Foundations of the Torah). I am inclined to think that the fundamental problem is not that in the end such a person will rob other people. That is only an indication of the real problem: Torah is supposed to be implemented in the world and in life, not to shut itself away in a monastery. That seems to me to be the plain meaning of his words.

The Kesef Mishneh there, who disagrees with him and rejects his proofs (which were cited in the Commentary on the Mishnah on Avot), hangs the matter only on the fact that many acted otherwise and succeeded only with support:

The third part as well is learned from what they said in the aforementioned chapter: “Those who issue decrees”—that is, the judges who issue decrees in Jerusalem—received ninety-nine maneh as their wages from the Temple treasury. Tosafot also wrote there that the reason is that they had no other means of support. And just as they collected the shekalim even by compulsion, all the more so in times of exile they may collect whatever is needed to maintain the community; otherwise, Heaven forbid, we would be as good as lost in our situation. And there is no communal need greater than the need to establish among them a teacher of righteousness, and also students who will fill his place when he departs from this world; and they may compel one another regarding the established ordinances for this…

The resulting principle is that anyone who has no means of support is permitted to take payment for teaching, whether from the students themselves or from the community. Likewise, he is permitted to take payment from the community for judging, or from the litigants, after observing the conditions mentioned in the laws of the Sanhedrin.

Note that even the Kesef Mishneh, who permits it, speaks about receiving payment to teach Torah or to judge. These are Torah services rendered to the public. This implies that he is not talking about taking charity in order to study Torah, and even this is said only about someone who cannot support himself.

Beyond that, he writes:

Now that the Lord has made all this known to us, it is possible to say that our master’s intention here is that a person should not cast off the burden of work from himself in order to support himself from others so that he can study; rather, he should learn a trade that supports him, and if it suffices for him, so much the better, and if it does not suffice, he may receive what he needs from the community, and there is nothing wrong with that. This is what he wrote: “Anyone who decides in his heart,” etc. He then cited several mishnayot indicating that it is proper to learn a trade. And even if we say that this was not our master’s view, but rather as appears from his words in his Commentary on the Mishnah, we maintain that wherever the law is uncertain in your hands, follow the prevailing custom. And we have seen that all the sages of Israel, before our master’s time and after him, practiced taking their wages from the community. And even if we concede that the law follows our master’s words in the Commentary on the Mishnah, it is possible that all the sages of the generations agreed otherwise because of “It is a time to act for the Lord; they have voided Your Torah”—for if support for those who study and teach were not available, they would not be able to labor properly in Torah, and the Torah would, Heaven forbid, be forgotten. But when such support is available, they can occupy themselves with it, and Torah will be made great and glorious.

Today no one disputes that this is permitted and even proper. I have often written that a priestess should not fare worse than an innkeeper; that is, if the public supports artists, students, and researchers in various fields and the like, there is no reason it should not support Torah students as well. But despite that, one can certainly learn from the discussion in Maimonides and the Kesef Mishneh that, fundamentally, this was not supposed to be the situation. What requires a basis and a justification is not the permission to engage in other fields; on the contrary, it is the permission to engage only in Torah. That permission is grounded in the fact that the public needs you, and that you do this in order to serve the public and not as a way of life in itself. Life is to be lived as it is, and it is the monks who require permissions and Torah sources.

Maimonides and the Kesef Mishneh here are, of course, speaking about learning a trade and earning a living. I claim that underlying these words is a broader conception—not merely acquiescence to a need that need not be condemned, but a conception of implementing Torah within life. And even if Maimonides himself did not mean this, I, in my smallness, do.