On Education and Educators (Column 419)
This column is dedicated to my dear daughter Rivka, may she live and be well,
with wishes for success in her studies at the ‘Drisha’ Yeshiva.
These thoughts were refined with her help, and I hope they will be implemented by me and by her.
This past Simchat Torah, during the hakafot in our parking-lot minyan, the carrying of the Torah scrolls was distributed among the congregants as is customary. At some point they announced it was the turn of “educators who have not yet carried a scroll,” and among others they called my name. It’s hard to describe the sense of insult I felt upon hearing this annoying classification (but I worked on my character traits and said nothing. I hope none of my good-intentioned neighbors read these columns). To call me an “educator”?! Unthinkable! After I cooled down a bit, I set out to clarify why this title sounded so insulting and irritating to me. The answer I reached is set out here in this column.
I apologize in advance for words that may hurt some people, but in my estimation this is the truth and it is proper to put it on the table. In what follows I will note various implications of this view, and from there it will also be clearer why it is important to discuss it. This is also an opportunity to respond to Avraham’s request to lay out my approach regarding the proper form of education. I won’t really lay it out here, but at the end I will devote a few words to that as well.
A brief preface on the mitzvah of education
As is known, the Sages instituted an obligation (rabbinic; see Sukkah 2b, end) to educate our children. Its parameters are not unambiguous, and it appears in the Talmud in a very incidental and unsystematic manner. Already in the Talmud itself, and afterwards among the Rishonim, there are disputes and contradictions on questions such as whether the obligation is also on the mother or only on the father, whether there is an obligation to educate girls or only boys, the ages for education, its form, and so on.
A fundamental dispute between Rashi and Tosafot concerns the very nature of the mitzvah of education (see for example in Kehillot Yaakov to Sukkah, §2). According to Rashi (Berakhot 20a), it is a commandment placed upon the parents to educate their child to fulfill the commandments when he grows up and becomes obligated in them. But Tosafot (Berakhot 48a) disagree and hold that there is a rabbinic obligation upon the minor himself to fulfill commandments. The practical implication is regarding a minor reciting Birkat HaMazon: can he discharge the obligation for an adult who is rabbinically obligated? If there is a rabbinic obligation on the minor himself, as Tosafot understand, then a rabbinic (derabbanan) can discharge a rabbinic. But according to Rashi, the minor is not obligated even rabbinically, since the obligation is on his parents; therefore he cannot discharge an adult who is himself obligated rabbinically to recite it.
One can hang these two understandings on two meanings of the term “chinuch” (education) itself. In the common meaning, education means teaching and preparing the minor for performing his role when he grows up. He must be taught and imbued with his halakhic and moral duties. This is a preparatory stage before the thing itself, and this is apparently the meaning of “chinuch” according to Rashi. The second meaning is like “the dedication (inauguration) of the altar”—that is, the beginning of the very activity. In this sense, to “inaugurate” something means to start its normal operation (and not to do something prior to it). This is apparently the meaning of “chinuch” according to Tosafot.
Kehillot Yaakov there notes that even according to Tosafot there is an obligation on the parents to educate their son; however, in their view there is an additional rule in chinuch, namely a rabbinic obligation upon the minor himself. He wonders there: whence did Tosafot derive two such distinct obligations, and why is this detailed nowhere? In my article in Middah Tovah, Nitzavim–Vayelech 5767, I argued that these are two faces of the familiar mitzvah of chinuch—two sides of the same coin: there is a rabbinic obligation upon the minor himself to fulfill commandments. But since the minor is not yet mature and lacks the responsibility to understand that he must perform his duties (hence he is biblically exempt), the Sages place responsibility upon the parents to ensure that he indeed does so.[1]
Education for adults
Seemingly the mitzvah of chinuch was stated only regarding small children (under bar/bat mitzvah age). But that is not necessary, and in my view not reasonable either. I will illustrate through a well-known analysis among the Acharonim concerning a minor who comes of age in the middle of the Omer count or in the middle of Yom Kippur. The question is whether he must begin counting or fasting from when he becomes an adult. Usually this is tied to the question whether the mitzvah of Yom Kippur is defined as a separate mitzvah for each and every moment (and the Omer as a separate mitzvah for each and every day)—in which case, of course, during the moments/days he is an adult he must fulfill the mitzvot before him—or whether it is one continuous mitzvah, and since he did not fulfill it until now, he has already lost it and there is no point in beginning it mid-way.
As I explained in Column 192 (see also in Column 414), I do not accept that claim. In my opinion, even if it is one continuous mitzvah, the minor who becomes an adult mid-way is obligated to continue, because even as a minor he was already fulfilling it by virtue of chinuch. True, chinuch is only rabbinic and ostensibly there was no fulfillment of the biblical mitzvah; nevertheless, he must continue for two reasons: (1) The requirement of continuity is grounded in the definition of the concept (“counting,” or “fast”) and not in the definition of the halakhic obligation. If he fasted from the beginning of the fast—even if that was only rabbinically—the continuation of the fast constitutes a fast (for he actually fasted a full day), and therefore he must do so. According to this, the one who came of age now fulfills a biblical mitzvah from here on. (2) The continuity requirement relates to the mitzvah, not to the factual plane, yet he still must continue by virtue of chinuch, for even when he grows up there remains upon him an obligation of chinuch. If he does so, then at least on the rabbinic plane one can say he fasted, since he did so by virtue of chinuch for an entire day. According to this explanation, from here on he fulfills the mitzvah only rabbinically (despite being an adult).
The reason chinuch is usually defined for minors is that once they come of age they are biblically obligated in the commandments and therefore there is no point in defining for them a mitzvah of chinuch (in either of the above meanings). But in a case like this—where he cannot fulfill the biblical mitzvah even after coming of age (because of the requirement of continuity)—there is no reason to assume that chinuch does not apply to him. He is no worse than a minor, and if the Sages obligate a minor to fulfill commandments rabbinically, they likely obligate an adult who is not biblically obligated to do so as well. Of course it is easier and more natural to claim this according to Tosafot, who hold that the obligation of chinuch is on the minor himself, but one can argue it even according to Rashi.
What is an “educator”?
Let me return to my wounded feelings. Seemingly, I really am an educator. I am engaged in Torah teaching, and every teacher, as is known, is also a “mechanech” (educator). True, in my case it is generally before “big kids” (students or adults), but essentially it is quite similar. As we have seen, the mitzvah of chinuch can also be defined in relation to adults. It thus seems the crux is not in the audience’s age but in the essence of the act itself. Among us it is common to identify learning with education, or at least to see learning as part of the educational act. But I think this is mistaken.
First, we saw that education concerns what comes before life—as a preparation for it. Learning, however, is a task meant to accompany us throughout our lives. Beyond that (and closely related): the educator’s role is to instill in the pupil values and proper modes of conduct and behavior. To do this, he teaches those values and persuades him in various ways to adhere to them. Yet his fundamental role is the instilling, not the learning. In the educational process, learning serves the instilling.
To sharpen this further, let us examine philosophical ethics instruction. There is a famous witticism about the Greek philosopher who researched and taught ethics and, when caught in unworthy acts, explained that he is a lecturer in ethics and need not adhere in his behavior to ethical values—just as a mathematician who teaches and researches mathematics need not be a triangle. This story is often brought as a joke or to condemn philosophers who do not practice their own doctrine, but to me it correctly describes the role of a researcher and lecturer in philosophy. I would criticize his behavior—as I would criticize anyone who behaves unethically—but the fact that he engages in research or teaching ethics neither adds nor detracts in that regard. A researcher in ethics is to clarify ethical issues and reach conclusions, irrespective of whether he practices them in his personal life.
That is for the researcher. The same applies to one who teaches ethics (e.g., a university lecturer in ethics). He too is not required to any particular behavior by virtue of his role, for his concern is the transmission of knowledge and intellectual modes of analysis. The goals of the researcher and the lecturer lie on the cognitive plane, not the behavioral one. Moreover, even for his students, the aim of a teacher or lecturer is not to direct their behavior but to teach them the field—that is, its knowledge and the established modes of thought and analysis. If the students do not behave ethically, that is not the lecturer’s failure, but perhaps that of their educators and parents, and mainly their own. Only if they acted so due to lack of knowledge or understanding in ethics would that be the lecturer’s failure—but that should not be considered a personal-educational failure; rather a failure in learning and knowledge transmission. If they know and yet do not act accordingly, that is an educational failure, not a learning one.
So who bears the task of shaping the pupils’ ethical behavior? Their educator (and the parents, in their capacity as educators). Indeed, the educator who wishes to create ethical behavior in his pupils also needs ethical analysis and the study of values, issues, and methods of thinking and analysis; but these are tools that serve him in striving toward his foundational aim: forming proper conduct. In the educational process, learning is a means, not an end (except in an educational process whose aim is to educate for learning and its importance; that is not our concern here).
In my article about the role of academia, I sided with the unpopular position of the Hebrew University’s Department of Jewish Thought—there dubbed the philological-historical approach—which sees the role of the lecturer and researcher as clarifying and analyzing ideas without dealing with their instillation and their existential meanings for students. This distinction is similar to what I describe here. A lecturer is not supposed to be an educator, and it is not his job to deal with the existential ramifications of the ideas he teaches. He should focus on teaching the ideas themselves. A beit midrash or school should also deal with instillation, with the existential meanings of those ideas, and with ways to implement them. He engages in research and teaching; they engage in education.
In the controversy at the Hebrew University there was another approach, according to which part of the lecturer’s role is to educate the students and bring them to implement the ideas learned. Even if I accept that a lecturer may choose to engage in this, we should agree this ought not be the core aim of a lecturer in philosophy or Jewish thought. For an academic lecturer, such engagement can be a means that helps students better understand the ideas. Perhaps one can “hitch a ride” on the learning and also try to educate alongside it—but these are two different pursuits. Such a lecturer must understand that in doing this he dons a different hat. Here he is acting not as a lecturer but as an educator. Being an educator is a positive and important role, but it is not the lecturer’s mandate. We can debate whether a lecturer should “waste” academic time on education, and whether he has a mandate to engage in education when he is paid to teach and when students come to him to learn, not to be educated. But even if we accept that it is legitimate, we must concede it is not his core task. He volunteers to perform an additional (important) task different from his task as lecturer and researcher.
For my part, I also favor separating the tasks. I oppose agendas in academia (as far as possible), at least when this is not done transparently (i.e., when the lecturer presents his view rather than all positions and the arguments for and against each). The price of academic purism like mine is the severing of lecturers from tasks that may seem important and beneficial to us, such as educating for ethical behavior. This is true even when I agree with the lecturer’s stance, and all the more so when I disagree with the “educational” directions he chooses. Let him focus on transmitting knowledge and skill—that is his mandate. Values are not the mandate of academics. Give to the educator what is his, and to the lecturer and researcher what is theirs.[2] But that is merely my personal view.
The same distinction from another angle: “Adorn yourself first”
It is customary to demand of one who tries to move another person to action that he himself behave in the manner he demands of others. When I rebuke someone, he often retorts that I too act that way—in effect saying to me, “Adorn yourself first.” Is there substance to this demand? In my opinion, no. If Reuven scolds Shimon for improper behavior, Shimon should examine his words on their merits. If he discovers he was indeed wrong, he must mend his ways regardless of Reuven’s conduct. If Reuven himself is lacking in that matter, it is on Reuven to mend his ways; it is not a condition for his ability to rebuke Shimon.
Psychologically, we are built such that we do not accept rebuke from one who himself is not clean in the matter. But that is a psychological bug, not a substantive issue (no one is perfect). Therefore it is indeed advisable that we correct ourselves before rebuking others—and of course even without rebuking others—but that is only so that our rebuke will be received. It is a recommendation for the psychological effectiveness of rebuke, not an essential requirement. My being “fixed” is not a condition for my “right” to rebuke another, simply because I do not need a right to rebuke. The rebuke should be judged on its own merits, not by the question whether the rebuker has the “right” to say it.
We can formulate it thus. Rebuke can have two aims: (1) Cognitive-intellectual: to explain to the other how one ought and ought not behave. (2) Educational: to persuade him to act this way rather than that. Aim (1) does not depend on my being personally improved in the matter about which I rebuke my friend. But the chances of achieving aim (2) certainly do depend on that (unfortunately; as noted, it is a human bug).[3]
This distinction helps sharpen the difference between an educator and a lecturer. The rebuker serves in two roles: lecturer and educator. The lecturer transmits information, and that is unrelated to his personality and traits. The educator seeks to instill and achieve some personal-practical goal—and, sadly, because of our flawed human makeup, the chance of achieving it depends on the educator’s character and behavior. The educator is required to behave in accordance with the doctrine to which he educates, but the lecturer is not required to behave according to the doctrine he teaches.
We see that the tasks of material transmission (a lecture) and education are in many cases intertwined. Therefore the question whether we are dealing with education or with learning is not determined by what we do in practice but by the fundamental aim of the process. If the aim is educational and the learning only serves it, then it is education. If the aim is learning and the education only assists it or “hitches a ride” on it, then it is learning.
He to learn, and his son to learn
Our tradition has instilled in us a primary value and intuition regarding self-sacrifice to transmit Torah to the next generation. People sometimes feel they are merely a means for Torah to be passed to their children. But if one pushes this approach to the extreme (as sometimes occurs), it produces a very problematic and unreasonable picture. We can see this via the Talmudic sugya in Kiddushin 29b.
The Gemara cites a baraita that discusses a case where it is not possible for both the father and his son to study Torah extensively (Maimonides writes that in any case neither is completely exempt):
Our Rabbis taught: If he is to learn and his son is to learn—he takes precedence over his son. Rabbi Yehuda says: If his son is diligent and sharp and his learning is retained by him, his son takes precedence. As in the case of Rav Yaakov, son of Rav Acha bar Yaakov: his father sent him before Abaye; when he came, he saw that his teachings were not sharp. He said to him: I am preferable to you—go back, and I will go.
On the one hand, the initial ruling is that in such a case he takes precedence over his son—perhaps contrary to the initial intuition I described. The reason is that if each focuses on transmitting Torah onward and does not learn himself, then the son too will transmit Torah onward, to his own son, instead of learning himself. In the end, no one will truly learn Torah. For whom is this entire process undertaken? Someone also has to do the work itself—that is, to learn and develop the Torah. Transmission is only a means to the development of Torah; it cannot be the main goal of the process. Torah must stand at the center of our collective, intergenerational effort, not the father and not the son.
That is the baraita. But Rabbi Yehuda says that if the son is more successful in learning (in various parameters), then the son takes precedence. This continues the same pattern of thought. Although basically he precedes his son, for every person should engage in the important task himself (and the son, when he grows up, will do so as well), if the son is sharper and more successful in learning, then the son precedes. The reason is that the entire process of learning and teaching should be undertaken not for the son and not for the father but for Torah. Therefore, whichever of them is more successful should be the one to learn. The intergenerational transmission is carried out so that, ultimately, someone will do the work itself.
This picture is not only about father and son, but also about teacher and student, and about the public as a whole. There is a collective goal for the public to develop Torah. In a certain sense, we are all supposed to work for it, not it for us. The public must ensure there are among it Torah scholars whose concern is the development and refinement of Torah and delving into it. Everything else is peripheral. In this view, the transmission from teacher to student and to the community is merely a means. The goal is the learning itself.
Of course this is only a partial presentation. In the end, Torah does not stand alone; it is meant to be applied in reality by people. If we only learn and deepen and refine it without ensuring its dissemination and public observance, that is clearly a defective state. When I speak of seeing Torah as the goal, I mean Torah as embodied in individuals and in the community as a whole. Therefore, after the deepening, understanding, and refinement of Torah, it is important that we transmit it onward so that future generations will continue to do so. Still, I propose here a perspective different from the common one—if only by shifting the proportions between teaching and education, on the one hand, and the learning itself, on the other. From this picture it emerges that there is substance to viewing the sacred functionaries—rabbis, educators, judges—as important functions, but we sometimes forget that all this exists for the sake of those who do the work itself: developing and refining Torah. From the vantage point of eternity, what matters is who contributed to the development of Torah and left his imprint for future generations—i.e., to Torah itself. In this sense, we all work for the Torah scholar, not he for us.
Between educator and Torah scholar: “Mizrachnikim” and Haredim
For many years now we have repeatedly observed that among “Mizrachnikim” (religious-Zionists) there is usually an identity between a rabbi, or Torah scholar, and an educator. When I ask students after their hesder program whether they plan to continue learning long term, the answers hinge on prospective positions: rabbi, rosh metivta (R”M), judge, and the like. One remains to learn because he sees value in teaching or in holding some sacred office; another, for the same reason, does not remain (because he does not see value in it, or he does not think it suits him and/or that he will be hired). One can understand this as mere livelihood considerations, but my sense is that there is something more. The typical Mizrachi person identifies learning with preparation for sacred office. He lacks a model of a Torah scholar for wisdom’s sake. Often one can hear questions about the Haredim: Why do we need so many learners and Torah scholars? Do we need so many rabbis and judges? This rests on an implicit assumption that Torah study is a kind of professional training—that is, that learning and research are intended for the sake of teaching and education. Precisely the opposite of the picture I described above. The Haredi ethos (at least the Lithuanian one), by contrast, sees “rabbi” and “judge” almost as pejorative labels. There is a certain disdain for these offices, and many define them as learning “not for its own sake” but for the sake of livelihood (as is also cited in the name of the Chazon Ish). Even a rosh yeshiva, who certainly receives great honor there, is honored not because he is a teacher but despite being a teacher—because he is an original, profound Torah scholar (if indeed he is). This ethos is the polar opposite of the Mizrachi one.
Among “Mizrachnikim,” the honor accorded to Torah scholars is weighted primarily by their office, and much less by their spiritual and Torah level. A rosh yeshiva, head of a mechina (most of the public does not understand that this is something like a high-school teacher, more or less), a community or city rabbi—these are those who receive honor. A Torah scholar—however exceptional—figures less on the Mizrachi screen and range. One can see a rosh yeshiva/mechina whose Torah and spiritual level is a joke, yet he receives royal honor. The office creates the person—and even more so, the attitude he receives. That is also how they usually vet you for a position: they ask if you have rabbinic ordination, as if that were a condition for being a Torah scholar (and even as a condition for being hired not only as a rabbi). Thus the Chief Rabbi of Israel is received in our circles with an aura of sanctity, though he may be a fellow with the abilities of an average yeshiva student, with thinking ability and originality below average, and with a worldview and personality at a kindergarten level. Without referring to anyone personally, there is no doubt we have not had in a long time a Chief Rabbi whom one could truly call a profound and original Torah scholar of stature. But the Mizrachi public has lost its sense of smell for this. If he is the Chief Rabbi, he deserves royal honor. In Column 271 I noted several examples of this fascinating phenomenon, and due to the sensitivity I will not repeat them here. I think that in the Haredi (at least Lithuanian) world, even the balabatim and the amei ha’aretz have not lost their sense of smell, and honor is granted there more or less to those who truly deserve it (at least according to their view; there are distortions there as well, of course).
I noted this also in Column 139, where I discussed two rabbinic figures—both paragons whom I greatly esteem—yet the attitude toward them reflects this phenomenon. I also mentioned there my article on two models of rabbi and Torah scholar, comparing the two famous rabbis of Dvinsk (the Rogatchover and the Or Sameach), where I also discussed this comparison. In both places I described the tendency in our circles to see the rabbi as a public servant (a legitimate view in itself, of course), while ignoring the reverse picture in which we all exist for him. The assumption underlying the common view is that transmission and education are the main roles and missions of a Torah scholar, whereas the truth is the reverse. The sacred functionaries are means for transmitting Torah onward (education and teaching), which in itself is only a means to the fundamental goal of developing and refining Torah.
The complete picture
This picture presents a hierarchy among three functions: the learner/researcher, the teacher, and the educator. The researcher engages in developing and understanding Torah. The teacher engages in granting and transmitting it onward to future generations. The educator engages in instilling the matters so that they will also be actualized in practice and will continue to be transmitted onward. Perhaps we can expound the verse “Educate the youth according to his way; even when he grows old he will not depart from it,” which Rabbeinu Yonah interprets: he will not depart from the path of becoming educated. That is, the improvement is intended not so that he be improved, but so that he continues to improve (see more on this in Columns 170 and 360, and in my article here). Transmitting Torah also has the role that Torah will continue to be transmitted—but we must not forget that, at the very end, there is also a purpose to all these transmissions. We place great emphasis on the teacher and the educator, but we forget the conceptual aspect of this whole process, which in the end is intended for the researcher and the learner.
It may be that this problematic attitude is a reaction to the Haredi attitude, which suffers from the opposite problem. There, emphasis is placed only on the Torah scholar, regardless of office and benefit to the public. There too, the entire public is aimed toward that track, ignoring that not everyone is suited, and that it is also not right to build a public that consists only of Torah scholars. Torah needs to live among the people in the fields. The complete picture is a weave built from integrating these two axes: the principled-eternal view that sees everything as means for the Torah scholars in every generation (the teacher and educator are means to the researcher and learner), and the practical view that sees the application of Torah across broad layers in every generation—and the Torah scholars must serve that aim (here the learner and researcher are means for creating sacred functionaries—educators and teachers). Each of the two publics abandons one of these sides; but the complete picture must hold both in a balanced way. See on this Column 34.
So why was I offended?
For two main reasons: (1) The very identification testifies to a distortion of values and a warped perception of Torah and its study. I am certainly not an educator, for I engage in research and learning and a bit of teaching, but definitely not in education. If one calls me an educator, that expresses the distortion I have described here. But there is something beyond that. My feeling is that there is something inferior in the educational enterprise. It is about training people, using propaganda and appeal to emotion. It is a bundle of skills invented to deal with bugs and has no value in itself. In my eyes this is not of intrinsic value like Torah or wisdom. Before continuing, I will preface an apology for the elitism that will be displayed in the next lines—some of which will be very politically incorrect. I write them nonetheless because it is important to discuss them, particularly in light of the implications I described above.
There is no doubt we also need people who will engage in education; but this is a blameless necessity, not an exalted pursuit in and of itself. In a perfect world, research and teaching would suffice, and people who know what is right would proceed to do it. In our flawed world, we are all flesh and blood, dwellers in clay houses of dust, and therefore there is no escaping education. Because of our bugs, there must be a process that helps a person carry out what he already knows and believes. That is what education is for. But this is a pursuit comparable to technological skill—or the training and shaping of human beings. You deal with children or youth and their problems, and this is very important and helpful, but these are not matters of the loftiest order.
Here we can bring the words of the Gemara in Kiddushin 82a:
Our Rabbis taught: Whoever’s occupation is with women—keep far from him; such as: goldsmiths, carders, [perfumers?], peddlers, weavers, barbers, launderers, blood-letter, bathhouse attendant, and tanner—we do not appoint from them a king or a High Priest. What is the reason? Not because they are invalid, but because their craft is lowly. Our Rabbis taught: Ten things were said about the blood-letter: he walks on his side, his spirit is haughty, he hangs [himself], he sits, he is stingy, his eye is evil, he eats much and excretes little, and he is suspected of sexual immorality, of theft, and of bloodshed. Bar Kappara expounded: A man should always teach his son a clean and easy craft. What is it? Rav Yehuda said: …
The tanner (borski) is among the lowlier crafts whose occupation is with women (in the Sages’ eyes: impulsive and not sophisticated creatures), and whose “association is evil.” Even if we do not accept this regarding women—at least in our day—I think that regarding children it is certainly correct. The educator deals with children, not highly developed creatures, and he must treat them, develop them, and raise them.
On 82b the Gemara adds further:
It was taught: Rabbi says—there is no craft that will pass from the world. Fortunate is he who sees his parents in a superior craft; woe to him who sees his parents in an inferior craft. The world cannot exist without a perfumer and without a tanner; fortunate is he whose craft is perfumery, and woe to him whose craft is tanning. The world cannot exist without males and without females; fortunate is he whose children are males, and woe to him whose children are females. Rabbi Meir says: A man should always teach his son a clean and easy craft, and pray to Him to whom are wealth and property, for poverty does not come from the craft and wealth does not come from the craft, but to whomever wealth belongs—as it is said: “Mine is the silver and Mine is the gold, says the Lord of Hosts.”
True, everyone needs a tanner—but why am I to blame?! There are crafts that are very important and necessary, yet still inferior. Unlike the Sages, I don’t think I would advise people to avoid them, but I do agree that the esteem of a craft is not a function only of its necessity. One must examine the content one deals with, not only its importance; and in that sense, education is not a pursuit of the highest order.
I know this sounds bad to contemporary ears: every labor that provides livelihood is respectable, and who are we to build hierarchies among pursuits and among people (where is political correctness?!). And certainly when it comes to education, whose importance is hard to deny. But the Sages, freed from the shackles of (our) politics, do distinguish among labors and create a hierarchy of importance and stature. Engaging in Torah and being a Torah scholar is a pursuit with spiritual breadth and intrinsic value. Education is a blameless necessity. By the way, when I first heard that, it surprised me greatly: the mitzvah of chinuch is only rabbinic. Biblically there is no obligation to educate.
I am, of course, very glad there are idealistic people who volunteer to engage in education. This pursuit is vital and necessary for all of us, and we should appreciate those willing to enter that quagmire. Their work is with children (like those in the Gemara whose work is with women, or the tanner with hides, or the slaughterer with animals and birds). Yet although we should appreciate their idealism and be grateful for it, that does not mean the pursuit itself has spiritual breadth and is worthy of esteem. To sharpen: I am not saying there are no teachers and educators with spiritual breadth. There are (a minority, in my view). But the very educational act involves dealing with lowly matters—the stage after changing diapers.
As is known, the Gemara in Bava Batra 21a greatly praises Rabbi Yehoshua ben Gamla, who founded organized education in Israel:
For Rabbi Yehuda said in the name of Rav: Remember that man for good—Yehoshua ben Gamla is his name—for were it not for him, Torah would have been forgotten from Israel. For at first, whoever had a father taught him Torah, and whoever had no father did not learn Torah. What did they expound? “And you shall teach them (otam)”—read “you shall teach yourselves (atem).” They then instituted that they seat teachers of children in Jerusalem. What did they expound? “For from Zion shall Torah go forth.” Yet still, whoever had a father would bring him up and teach him; whoever had no father would not go up and learn. They instituted that they seat [teachers] in every province, and they would bring them in at age sixteen or seventeen; and if his teacher became angry at him, he would kick and leave—until Yehoshua ben Gamla came and instituted that they seat teachers of children in every province and in every city, and they would bring them in at age six or seven.
In my view, this is esteem for one who dedicates himself to a lowly craft for the sake of the public and the collective. He deserves great appreciation for his idealism—like one who dedicates his life to changing diapers. But this is not necessarily esteem for the capacities and the pursuit itself. As we saw above, there is a difference between saying that some pursuit is necessary and vital, and that we owe gratitude to those willing to engage in it, and saying that the pursuit is worthy of esteem in itself. In my estimation, that is the proper form of esteem due to educators: they give of themselves to a pursuit that lacks spiritual breadth and intellectual depth; for that they have my full appreciation. But from there to seeing them as Torah scholars—the distance is great. Incidentally, as far as I have seen, the Gemara does not cite Torah statements of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Gamla, and I do not know to what extent he was a Torah scholar. He may have been a great and idealistic teacher and educator (and also a High Priest in a pinch), but the gap between that and a Torah scholar is large.
Before you pelt me with your etrogim, I remind you that each of us accords importance to people, among other things also by their occupation. There are those who esteem athletes, rabbis, actors, singers, doctors, intellectuals, writers, poets, or professors. The meaning of this esteem is that there is added value to what they say by virtue of being such. Of course a person’s traits and personality are very important—not only his knowledge and field of occupation—but here I focus on the latter. An intellectual and spiritual pursuit has a unique added value that deserves esteem accordingly by virtue of the pursuit. Education is not such.
Claims that my words here hurt people and create an unjustified hierarchy are disingenuous. In our world there are hierarchies—some justified and most likely not. Shall we say that the views of our housekeeper, our cobbler, or our garbage collector likewise have added value? Clearly such people can be intellectuals and outstanding Torah scholars—and then, of course, it is important and very useful to hear their views. But that is because they are intellectuals and Torah scholars. Their occupation as such does not create that esteem. So it is with educators. In short: if we are to have a hierarchy, let it be the correct hierarchy.
The honor of educators remains in its place—but they are not necessarily Torah scholars and men of spirit. Some certainly are, but that is incidental, exactly as a garbage collector or housekeeper might be. It is not a direct outgrowth of being an educator, nor inherent to that pursuit. To some extent that is true of every occupation. A “man of spirit” is not a label for one who practices some profession—education, teaching, or anything else—but for one who truly is a man of spirit, by virtue of who he is and his achievements. Still, one who engages in an intellectual field has added value to his words also by virtue of his occupation, beyond his personality and character (with appropriate caution).
In sum: one can be an educator who stands head and shoulders above others, and he deserves esteem for that. But to say about someone that he is an educator is not equivalent to saying he is a Torah scholar or an intellectual. Therefore I, who am not an educator in any way, take that label as an affront. But for one who truly is such, it is clear that calling him an educator does not insult him.
The proper form of education
As noted above, this is an opportunity to add a few words about education as I see it. This is all the more necessary in light of what I wrote here. If indeed education is a kind of training and shaping, is there really room for such an enterprise? Why not leave the pupil to choose his path and shape his character on his own? As I wrote, it is a blameless necessity. The fact is that it is difficult for a person to shape himself entirely alone without the help of educators.
Still, in my view, one should strive for education to minimize as much as possible the components of training and propaganda. There are various euphemisms for this—warm attitude, warmth and love for the students, etc.—but all of these are meant to influence the student not through his cognition; therefore, in my view, although these are the essential components of the educational process, they are lowly actions (tannery). The rest of the components are not education but teaching and learning, as I have explained. I do not think we have the option to educate on the basis of learning alone (though that is how it ought to be), but we should strive to approach that. Present the pupil with the different options, teach him to analyze them and their advantages and disadvantages, and then also exhort him a bit toward the right direction. That too can be done in various ways. One can present him with role models, situations, events, or people, so that he can be impressed, connect, and form a position in worthy directions. But it is never pure learning. Without the educational component (again, learning is not essential to education), it is apparently not possible.
This kind of education takes risks, since the chance that the pupil will choose a path other than the one you are trying to direct him toward is great. In this educational path you acquaint him with different ways and encourage him to choose among them on his own, not merely permit it; therefore it is no wonder the results are less assured (though absolute certainty exists in no approach, of course). I have spoken more than once (see for example here and Columns 67 and 304) about the value of autonomy (that a person will do what he thinks) which is no less important than the value of truth (that he do what is right), and this applies to education as well.
I will not enter into details here, for this is not the place and I do not have a fully worked-out practical doctrine on the matter. But I have described the principled direction as an outgrowth of everything I wrote above, and may it be pleasant to the hearer (just bear in mind that I am not speaking as an educator).
[1] See in our article there further examples of splitting between the obligation and the responsibility to carry it out, mainly in communal commandments.
[2] Similar critiques arise with respect to educators and school principals who educate students according to their agendas (left–right, traditional–secular, etc.). There the critique is narrower and gentler, since educators’ mandate is indeed education and not only learning. The demand that educators not mix in personal agendas is harder to implement than in academia—if it is possible at all. If an educator understands that the occupation is corrupting and immoral, is it not right, from his perspective, to educate his students against the occupation? That is his mandate as an educator. The problem that leads to such demands of educators as well is that education in Israel is centralist—that is, funded and managed by the state’s Ministry of (Lack of) Education—and therefore parents do not know and do not determine according to which values their child will be educated (except religious vs. secular, and even that not entirely).
[3] It has an obvious evolutionary explanation: if every rebuker ensures he himself is improved, that is an optimal way to achieve general social improvement. If you are not improved, you will not be able to achieve improvement in the other. That gives you added motivation to be improved yourself.
Discussion
Your Litvak side came out in all its glory 🙂
Besides a high-quality Torah scholar, what other roles in society do you see as having value in and of themselves (even in a perfect world)?
You remind me a bit of the atheists who go to great lengths explaining why we are nothing more than a collection of atoms with no choice and no meaning, and then go on to devote their lives to helping others, kindness, and other lofty (and meaningless) values. You explained at great length why, in your view, education is an inferior occupation (come on, the comparison to changing diapers was mainly to annoy people, right?), and all this in a long column on a long blog that is only part of an enormous corpus of your books, articles, and publications, a large and significant part of which (even if not all of it) is intended to encourage people toward thinking, precise argumentation, honesty, truthfulness, courage, and intellectual integrity, and to build a society that is more worthy in your eyes. Dear Rabbi Michi, whether you want to or not, even if most of your time you engage in Torah only for the sake of developing Torah and deepening it, you devote a huge amount of energy, strength, and emotion to educating those around you. Sometimes you even do a pretty decent job. “Educating” does not necessarily mean indoctrination—quite the opposite, in fact. Educating people toward independent thinking is education par excellence, and I think quite a few educators (brrr..) would sign on to that with both hands. But never mind. I’ll only draw your attention to the fact that your long column here ultimately contains a clear synthetic circular argument. Your starting point is that Torah scholarship is loftier than cultivating good and ethical people. It is legitimate to think that, but this whole long column is nothing more than defining the concepts after having already decided which of them matters more than the other, without explaining why that is so—and, as stated, all this within a format that is not a little educational in the highest sense. So I assume you understand why there is no reason at all for someone who thinks differently from you to be persuaded by this column. That is one of the things I learned from you.. 🙂
(And just to clarify, this response is written with great appreciation and affection for your work—both your Torah work and your educational work..)
An interesting remark. But one has to distinguish between understanding that this is how one ought to act and actually acting that way. Many of us understand that it is proper to do X and do not do it.
But beyond that, this can be explained even without the above distinction. There may be a lecturer in morality who is thoroughly familiar with all the approaches and their implications, but does not understand that this obligates him personally. That does indeed mean that something about the meaning of the concept “morality” is unclear to him, but the information and patterns of thought that he teaches can certainly be correct. By the way, there are quite a few moral philosophers who, in my opinion, are exactly in that situation. All those who are not Kantians do not understand what morality is, but they are experts in moral analysis and moral theories.
Not many. Intellectuals of various kinds, perhaps artists of various kinds.
And indeed, I am a proud Litvak (my acronym for pride is LGBT), as I have written more than once.
With God’s help, 1st of Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan 5782
Everyone is an “educator,” whether he wants to be or not, especially if he is talented and knowledgeable or a man of many accomplishments. His statements and actions influence those around him, especially those younger than he, who see him as a “role model” from whom to learn a worldview and a way of life.
Just as Abraham had disciples who learned from him to be “one who loves the Omnipresent and loves people,” so Balaam had disciples who learned from him to hate and belittle others. We are all “educators” who influence our fellow human beings. Happy is the one whose influence works in a positive direction.
Regards, Shatz [Mechanel]
Indeed, “education” is like the “dedication of sacred vessels,” their first use for holiness. So too, a worthy educator does not “do all the work” for his student, but rather opens paths and directions of thought for him, with which the student will continue on his own.
And so in the “Month of the Strong Ones” we opened our hearts and strengthened our aspiration for the good, but this is only a “dedication,” the beginning of the road that we will deepen and develop in the gray days of routine.
I do not understand how you can compare educators to someone who changes diapers. It is true that both do things that are important for the world, but the educator cares for the future world, cultivating Torah scholars. That is definitely something very important and worthy. Just as being a doctor is worthy and respectable, so too is being an educator. In the end, an educator has one of the most important jobs there is.
So consequentialists do not understand what morality is. Why? The consequentialist has a moral principle that determines which decisions should be made, and there is an objective duty to follow that principle. Why does the content of the principles bear on the question of understanding the concept, and in what way is this dispute fundamentally different from disputes among deontologists themselves?
Hello David.
First, my columns are about teaching, not education. In the column I pointed out that this is a significant distinction, even if it is not sharp. My main aim is to clarify ideas and guide thought, not to inculcate behaviors. I do indeed devote effort to this because of the importance of the matter, but the main value in my eyes is the research and thought itself, not the teaching.
Beyond that, in my remarks in the column I devoted a parenthetical aside explicitly to exclude education toward thinking and wisdom, which is not similar to education toward values, religiosity, or any other lifestyle. Wisdom and correct thinking are things for which it is very hard to separate research from teaching, because one who does not engage in research and thinking about them will find it very difficult to teach them (indeed, he will do so incorrectly, because in many cases he himself does not think correctly). Therefore, precisely here it is called for that the teacher also be a researcher, and vice versa.
In a certain sense, and certainly for someone trained in logical techniques, every argument presupposes what it seeks to prove and therefore ostensibly should not persuade. As I wrote regarding belief in God, there is a possibility of persuasion there, but only for someone who, deep in his heart, believes but is not aware of it. The same applies to my arguments and to any other argument made by anyone else. I think people can encounter some column or argument whose conclusion they do not agree with and still be persuaded, because the truth makes its way. When they see the points, they understand that they agree with them.
Moreover, sometimes a person changes his basic assumptions, especially when he sees what conclusions follow from them. That is another way to persuade, even in a thoroughly logical world.
By the way, it seems to me that you are a very good example of people in whose thinking and conduct, if I have any share, I am quite proud of that. I am very glad to read your critiques, and I even allow myself to think that I have a small share in them. I write this to show that there is a possibility of influencing, contrary to what you wrote here (or at least what you put into my mouth).
Are you sure you read the column? It seems to me that you didn’t.
The consequentialist has a binding principle, but it is not morality. I am talking about someone who does things in order to achieve the result, not someone who determines what is proper according to the result. In the second sense, even Kant can be defined as a consequentialist.
And nevertheless, it seems that after five posts on commandments and their definitions, the owner of the site may at the very least be considered a “Minchat Chinukh man” 🙂
Regards, Shatz Mechanel
By the way, I have to admit something else here. Teaching helps me in the learning and research themselves. In terms of definitions, I separate the two activities, but in practice I do them in parallel. When I write about a certain subject it helps me think about it and examine it. And of course the responses help me even more. So at least for me, teaching serves the interests of learning, research, and thought.
What do you mean, someone who does things in order to achieve the result? Why is he interested in that result?
Of course there is a possibility of influencing! And indeed, when I am asked to name people who have influenced my way of thinking and the way I see the world, you are one of the first names (and one of the only ones) that come to mind. Absolutely—and thank you for that! I simply think, from my acquaintance with you and with your activity, that these are goals that matter in your eyes too. And so we enter here into the realm of semantics on the question of what counts as “education.” In my opinion, what you do definitely counts as education, and it seems to me that it matters a great deal to you that your students come out as people with independent and lucid thinking. Not only because of the contribution that such thinking makes to research in the world, but because there is value in it, because it is a lofty expression of our humanity, and if you manage to help men and women bring that into practice, that is an achievement—one that, it seems to me, matters even in your eyes. I understand that you distinguish between education toward thinking and education toward values, but it seems to me that this distinction is somewhat artificial, because I at least (and it seems to me that you do too, at least that is how it appears from the efforts you devote to the matter) think that sharp, bias-free thinking is a value—very much so; even if it may sound pompous, it is an actualization of the image of God within us, certainly according to the Rambam but not only according to him. And if we define education a bit differently—not as “inculcating values” but as “cultivating people”—then it does not seem to me that the title “educator” would offend you to the same extent. And rightly so.
Some interest or other.
Abraham too was praised by his Creator for being an educator, as it is written: “For I have known him, so that he may command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do righteousness and justice.” It is no accident that the Torah defined the commandment of its study by saying, “And you shall teach them diligently to your children,” to teach us that the essence of Torah is to be “instruction.”
Regards, Shatz
Line 2
…… “to do righteousness and justice.” …
And one more addition: writing is part of the very development of Torah itself. If you have not conveyed to the public (very nicely, as in the Mishnah in Shekalim) what you have brought up in your net, then it is not really development of Torah. Only once you have conveyed the result to the public can it be said that the Torah has developed. Now others can build further layers and stories upon it. I think that is the main focus of my writing, and therefore the original difficulty does not arise.
I addressed this now in a comment here: https://mikyab.net/posts/7298#comment-55486
But that is mainly imparting a skill, not education. In that respect, education toward thinking differs from every other kind of education (even if we say that education toward thinking is itself a value, as you wrote).
A side note. You wrote that an adult too is obligated under the law of education, like a minor, at a time when he is not obligated. What is the reasoning for that? A minor is obligated in education in things that, when he is an adult, he will be obligated in by Torah law. But if even an adult is exempt, then what place is there for education in something from which he is forever exempt? Just as an Israelite does not need to practice taking the fistful from meal-offerings. I recall people saying that even if a dangerously ill person who eats on Yom Kippur is obligated in kiddush as on every Sabbath, an ordinary minor who eats on Yom Kippur is not obligated in kiddush under the law of education, since when he becomes an adult such eating will be forbidden.
With God’s help, 30th of Eitanim 5782
To Tirgitz—greetings,
The discussion of obligating an adult on account of education concerned a commandment that he began to fulfill when his obligation was only rabbinic—such as a minor who reaches majority in the middle of Yom Kippur or in the middle of the counting of the Omer (and according to the side that he does not fulfill the Torah obligation through a fast/counting that began at a time of only rabbinic obligation). Regarding this, they said that in any case he must complete his fast/counting by virtue of “education,” in order to accustom him for the coming years in which he will fulfill the commandment by Torah law.
Regards, Tir Gul
I wrote that this is easier according to the Tosafot’s view, where the obligation is on the minor himself. It is not reasonable that in the case of an adult who cannot fulfill his Torah obligation they would not impose such a rabbinic obligation. But even according to Rashi’s view, where it is parental education, my claim is that they removed the obligation of education from the adult because he is already fulfilling it by Torah law. But as long as he is not fulfilling it, there is no reason to remove the obligation of education from him.
The education is to fast, and in that he will be obligated when he grows up. They are not educating him to fast when he becomes an adult in the middle of the day, just as they are not educating him to fast in the year 5782, since that too will not recur in his adulthood.
As for the minor who eats on Yom Kippur, that is a story I brought about the Avnei Nezer in his youth.
Even from the reason for giving precedence to one’s teacher over one’s father—that one’s father brought him to life in this world, while his teacher brings him to life in the World to Come—it appears that the teacher’s precedence is not only because of his great Torah knowledge, but because of his educational influence on his student.
Regards, Shatz
Moreover, “pedagogy” is a major discipline in Torah, and just as there is greatness in analysis, greatness in breadth of knowledge, and greatness in halakhic ruling—so too there is greatness in understanding the soul of the student and penetrating to its depths. It is Torah, and it requires much study.
If someone swore that in a week he would make spaghetti, does he have to start today to make spaghetti under the law of education?
If this is the imparting of skills and nothing more, then is the rabbi basically like a coach? Because a coach is (supposedly) imparting the skill of actualizing confidence, daring, and ability.
Or perhaps the rabbi is like a basketball/fitness trainer; such a trainer also imparts a skill, whether it is the skill of shooting or of lifting weights.
Or perhaps in fact the rabbi is like a teacher! But a driving teacher—after all, a driving teacher also imparts the skill of operating a vehicle routinely, and by means of the knowledge conveyed from you we learn how to drive.
How did we get to these pilpulim? Before the week passes, he has no obligation at all—not because of his age, but because the time of the obligation has not yet arrived. This is part of the laws of the oath, not of the status of the person. I also am not claiming that someone who is exempt for some reason (an onen) from commandments should perform them rabbinically.
Indeed, the same thing. The only difference is between the skills and knowledge imparted in the two cases. Knowing how to drive a car has no spiritual-intellectual value.
Knowing how to drive a car has no spiritual-intellectual value? But surely that is “the Work of the Chariot”! 🙂
Is there any better meditation than concentrating on driving, which requires focusing all one’s powers on “reading the road,” perfect coordination, and complete control of the vehicle?
Regards, Levingoro Shimananda Potwakar
I was a bit surprised that people defined you as an educator. What immediately came to my mind was your view on “holy lies,” which you oppose even in principle (apart from the fact that in practice, in your opinion, the damage ultimately outweighs the benefit), and in my opinion (which no doubt you will dispute), an educator needs holy lies from time to time…
That is an interesting remark. I think the consideration to resort to them is educational in essence. In that you are right. But as you noted, I also think the damage outweighs the benefit, and therefore even educationally it is generally not right to use them.
Even a minor who has become an adult—if he is exempt from the fast, then he has no obligation at all, not because of his age, since he is an adult, but because that is the law of the fast. In Chagigah 6: wherever an adult is exempt by Torah law, a minor is likewise not obligated rabbinically.
According to the Even-Shoshan dictionary, there are 3 meanings:
Education:
1. The inculcation of habits, ways of thinking, and behavior; the development of the traits, character, and spiritual capacities of the students in accordance with a particular ideal goal (as distinct from “instruction,” whose main essence is the imparting of knowledge and education): education of children in school. Education for social life. Religious education.
2. Training, gradual habituation in some matter: “Children are not afflicted on Yom Kippur, but they are trained one or two years before their maturity. What is this training? If he was accustomed to eat at the second hour, they feed him at the third” (Yoma 82a).
3. Dedication, a ceremony marking appointment, a debut performance, the opening of a factory, and the like: “If he was appointed to be High Priest, he brings two, one for his dedication and one for the obligation of the day” (Jerusalem Talmud Shekalim 5:4). “Dedication of the menorah and its lamps” (Torah, Musaf A, Shavuot).
As Rabbi Natan Kamenetsky z”l described in his book that became notorious in the Haredi public. Even in the Haredi public there has been a significant change in the value scale regarding a rabbi who is a Torah scholar. The public is slowly drifting in the direction of Hasidism and increasingly values “special” people, phenomena, more than classic Torah scholars who investigate Torah in depth. See the phenomenon of “the Yinuka.” I am no longer sure what is better: a rabbi who received ordination and can barely understand a Tosafot’s difficulty, and certainly no one may Heaven forbid raise any difficulty against him; or a wonder-rabbi who is somewhere between an admor and a circus animal.
There is a human bug that people do not know the truth; in a corrected world people would know all the truth and all their work would be to implement it.
Now seriously:
Every sensible person understands that the true appreciation is for effort and overcoming, not for results. An educator gives people the skills to internalize that there is good and evil in the world and gives them a taste for choosing the good, and that is the whole of man. A person who attains high intellectual achievements but whose behavior is bad, arrogant, and hurtful—many people will value him much less than the person who corrects his traits. Now an educator is certainly on a very high level, since he bequeaths to people the skills for which we came into the world.
To say that it is a human bug that we do not do what we know is absolute folly, because that is man, and that is his work, and for that he was created; and to compare this to removing some external nuisance like changing diapers is bizarre.
It may still be that the Torah scholar is preferable, although the educator will cause more people to become Torah scholars, and one can engage in pilpul about this.
With God’s help, 1st of Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan 5782
To the clear person—greetings,
You nicely presented the importance of the educator who arouses his students to choose wisdom and goodness. In truth, there can be no separation between the two roles. The educator needs deep and broad knowledge of Torah; one cannot love or inspire love for what one does not know. Only when “the oven is full” itself does it warm its surroundings, so the educator must be a Torah scholar in abundant measure.
Even a Torah scholar, whose main occupation is the analysis and development of Torah, cannot remain shut up in an “academic ivory tower,” for the more his greatness becomes known publicly, the more people turn to him to receive guidance in halakhah and worldview. And the more his domain expands in students, the more he becomes an educational figure who influences those who hear his teaching and seek his counsel.
So “Torah scholar” and “educator” are not separate identities, but intertwined with one another.
Regards, Nehorai Sarga Agami-Psisovitch
By the way, there is also an aspect of “changing diapers” in teaching 🙂 A good teacher listens patiently to the ideas his students “emit,” and through his substantive comments teaches his students to distinguish between immature thinking and corrected, grounded thinking that stands up to scrutiny.
You wrote that for Tosafot, education is like dedication—the beginning of the thing itself—and therefore it is (also) the minor’s obligation. From the meaning of the word it seems a bit the opposite: in dedication the whole point is the beginning of the finished thing, not before that. One who built a new house and did not dedicate it returns from the battle lines; presumably even if during the building he slept in the unfinished house once or twice, that is certainly not its dedication. By the way, Radak on the root חנכ writes: “The beginning of eating in a new house is called dedication, just as the beginning of learning in a youth,” (contrary to the view that separates training from dedication), but that seems strained to me.
And why does Tosafot need to interpret the term education in the sense of dedication rather than, like Rashi, in the sense of preparatory learning and internalization? Presumably your point is that this sort of education—learning and preparation—by its nature comes from another person, and therefore does not fit Tosafot’s view that it is the minor’s own obligation. But one could easily say even according to Tosafot that a person has an obligation to educate himself, to learn and prepare and practice, just as in driving lessons one practices how to park correctly [and if so, it would not be “easier and more natural” to leave the obligation of education on the adult according to Tosafot more than according to Rashi].
With God’s help, 30th of Eitanim 5782
To Tirgitz—greetings,
According to Radak’s approach, that “education” is the beginning of learning, just as the “dedication of a house” is the beginning of dwelling in it (one expression of which is eating a regular meal there)—it may be said that the gums in a person’s mouth are called that because they begin the digestion of food, by means of the teeth that grind and the saliva that dissolves.
The root למד in Scripture can also be interpreted in the sense of “to accustom,” as in “trained in war,” accustomed and experienced; and likewise “and you shall teach them to your children to speak of them” = accustom them to speak of them.
“Learning” in rabbinic language can also mean “arrangement,” as is said of bricks that he “taught” them = “arranged them.” Very often, good and successful teaching is to arrange the sugya before the student with its reasons and approaches, while clarifying the underlying rationales this way and that, and when there is order and clarity in thought, the learner’s path is paved to make correct decisions.
Regards, Tir Gul
In the verse “Train a youth according to his way; even when he grows old he will not depart from it” (Proverbs 22:6), there are two approaches among the commentators. According to Rashi, R. Yosef and R. Moshe Kimchi, and Meiri (in the first interpretation), “train” is an imperative: “Teach the youth discipline according to his way, the understanding appropriate for each age, and then the lesson will remain in his heart until old age.”
But the Ri”d, Ralbag, and the “some interpret” cited by Meiri explained “train” in the sense of “habituate”: if you leave the child to his own way and habits and rely on the fact that when he matures he will choose the good path—this will not work, because if he becomes accustomed to going wayward in the paths of his heart, then “even when he grows old he will not depart” from his immature path.
In Dr. Shlomo Mandelkern’s concordance “Heikhal HaKodesh,” he brought two opinions regarding the root of the word “chakh” (palate), whose inflected forms have a dagesh. According to earlier authorities its root is חכך, but Radak in the name of his father explained that “chakh” is from the root חנך, and so it is in Arabic and Syriac.
According to this, one may say that both a person’s education and the dedication of a house are meant to begin its path with a good taste, so that “the palate may taste food,” in order that the good taste at the start of the road arouse the desire to continue and persevere, just as we ask in the blessing over Torah: “And make the words of Your Torah pleasant in our mouths and in the mouths of our offspring…”
Regards, Chanokh Zundil Feinschmecker
A. I was a young student when I first encountered Carl Rogers’s wonderful book, Freedom to Learn. At the time I was studying at Jerusalem College for a teaching certificate, and reading the book was part of the assigned reading. Encountering the book in that religious-conservative institution was very surprising, and reading it changed my life. I could not believe that someone had articulated so well things I myself thought about education and teaching. I do not remember much of the book; above all I remember its wonderful demand of the teacher: honesty and authenticity. Sharing his thoughts and his dilemmas with the students.
I just looked around a bit on Google and found this link, which does a fairly good job summarizing things I remembered from the book:
https://kotar.cet.ac.il/kotarapp/index/Book.aspx?nBookID=92283558
Of course with a warning note—this is a psychologist, and a fascinating discussion in the humanities, heaven forfend.
B. In the above post, a magnificent rag-doll of an educator was constructed: swathed in clichés, a reciter and manipulator, whom no sensible person would glance at twice. Serious students, at least, are not stupid, and when they encounter such a missionary, they look the other way and would never dream of listening to the polished rag standing before them, no matter whether he is educating toward communism, atheism, or fear of Heaven.
C. Sorry, but I do not believe in the split described between teacher and educator. When you peel away from the educator the caricature you drew here, what remains is a decent person who has knowledge he seeks to share with other people, usually young ones. Hungry for knowledge (well, usually). There is no knowledge without tools for processing it, without intellectual, spiritual, moral criteria, and so on. These separations are artificial. Wise people who desire the good will want to benefit others, and their students are included in that, and they will reflect their truth, authentically and honestly, as Rogers demanded, as the Torah demands. Education happens not through recitations but through imitation. Pretense is immediately apparent. A child does not imitate what his father/teacher says, but what the father or teacher does. One who pretends will produce a choir of pretenders; one who speaks truth, even when it is uncomfortable—there is a fair chance that under the rod of his teaching and education there will emerge speakers of truth.
(And let us say before Him a new song, hallelujah.)
Radak’s words still seem strained to me, because certainly not every beginning is called dedication; what is common to these two beginnings, the beginning of use and the beginning of instruction? Moreover, so long as he is being educated and even afterward, the servant/student is called his trainee; that is, education is the whole process, not the beginning. And why is it necessary at all to find a common meaning for training and dedication? Do we also look for a common meaning to peqidah and pequddah?
As for chekh (palate), it seems more plausible to me that the root is חככ like all its peers אֵם, חֵץ, לֵב, צֵל, קֵן, קֵץ, עֵת, whose inflections are dageshed: אִמֵּךְ, חִצַּי, לִבֵּךְ. And dropping the nun as the middle radical seems rarer to me, though Radak also wrote this about bat, that the root is בנת (as in Arabic), whereas for kaf in inflection כַּפְּךָ with a dagesh he did not say the root is כנף, though a wing is like a palm, and the cherubs spread wings as one spreads palms in prayer. If indeed the part of the mouth next to the palate is called gums, on the contrary, that implies palate and gums are two distinct things. In any case, all this is homiletic and has no practical consequence.
With God’s help, 1 Cheshvan 5782
To T”G—A guten tag,
Mandelkern supported the view of Radak’s father that “chakh” comes from the root “chanakh” on the basis of Arabic and Syriac, in which apparently “palate” is derived from the root “chanakh.” Since rabbinic Hebrew was influenced by Aramaic, it is plausible that the “chinki” [= gums] are also called that because they mark the boundaries of the “ch[an]akh.”
The dagesh in the inflections of “af” (“api,” “apekha,” etc.) also derives from the root “anaf,” since anger is from the root “anaf,” as in “I will thank You, O Lord, for You were angry with me”; and the nose too is called “af” because it is the glory of the face, in Aramaic “anpin.” Likewise “avi hanachal” has the root אנב [in Aramaic “fruit”], as in “and its fruit was abundant” (Daniel 4:18). And likewise the analogy you mentioned between “kaf” and “kanaf.”
In any case, both “dedication of a house” and “education” concern a “beginning.” Therefore “Abram’s trainees”—they are “those born in his house,” who were educated by him “from age zero” and absorbed his way, the way of kindness and peace, and are not professional warriors like the troops of the four kings. Those “trainees” are not Abraham’s slaves, but independent people, for Abram insists that they take their share of the spoils. Had the lads been Abram’s slaves, then “whatever a slave acquires belongs to his master”…
Abram’s trainees are independent people, who absorbed from their educator not only love of kindness and peace, but also the aspiration for uncompromising justice, and therefore they fight boldly against an enemy stronger than they are, for their advantage lies in their spirit, made without fear.
Regards, Chanokh He’anekh Feinschmecker-Palti
And that is indeed the difference between a “trainee” and an “official.” An official acts by force of the command, and fears his superior, who may visit upon him the punishment for his negligence.
By contrast, the trainee absorbs the spirit and path of his educator, and even if he grows old or becomes distant from his educator, the trainee will remain faithful to the spirit and values he received from him. The trainee has no need of the threatening “stick” of a commander.
And so when Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Kook, father of Rabbi Kook, commented on a certain detail he found displeasing in the conduct of the yeshiva students, and asked his son, “Why don’t you give them an order to act differently?”—Rabbi Kook replied: “Why, when you taught me the holy tongue, it was not from the chart of ‘pakadti pakadta pakad’ 🙂
Paragraph 2, line 3
… the glory of the face, in Aramaic: “anpin.” …
Paragraph 3, line 3
… and are not professional warriors like the soldiers of the four kings. …
Excellent examples, api avi (and likewise the dagesh in bat bitech). Thank you.
Even someone who changes diapers cares for the future…
The double meaning of the root “pakad”—both command and checking whether the command was fulfilled, together with the recompense involved in such “visitation”—may perhaps also be connected to the related root “pachad” (fear), for fear stems from the concern, “And what will you do on the day of visitation?”
Regards, Chafash Palti
You wrote: “Warm relations, warmth, and love for students, etc., but all these are meant to influence the student not through his cognition, and therefore from my perspective, although these are the essential components of the educational process, these are inferior acts (like a tanner’s).”
To my taste, non-cognitive approaches have the following problem: whichever way you look at it, if the student remains influenced by these approaches and does not arrive at the cognitive place, then he is not mature. And if he is mature and reaches the cognitive place, then these approaches will feel to him like manipulation. I do not deny that one needs some talent and patience to get along with young people (I, for example, do not have them). On the other hand, a tanner also needs some talent. Still, these non-cognitive approaches grate.
By the way, there is a blog on the internet called: Teacher, Not Educator (https://morelomechanech.wordpress.com/). It seems that he shares your reservations.
It is because of his age. He becomes obligated on Yom Kippur at the start of the day, and then he was a minor, so he did not become obligated.
With God’s help, 1 Cheshvan 5782
To Y.D.—greetings,
Rogers’s “point” is not only the teacher’s warmth and love toward the student, but also the teacher’s sincere willingness to accept an opinion even from a student younger than himself. The Sages defined this outlook when they said: “I have learned much Torah from my teachers. More than from them—from my colleagues. And from my students—more than from all of them.”
The teacher does indeed possess much more knowledge and experience than his students, but there are always points, sources, and lines of reasoning in which the students reveal to their teacher new angles of vision that had not occurred to him, so there is here an intergenerational mutual enrichment. And when the teacher is open to hear—“as water reflects face to face”—the students too open themselves to listen to the teacher’s novel insights.
In this connection, the “teacher” not only points out the way, but also serves as a “mentor,” helping his student develop and realize the talents and knowledge latent within him. This is not “top-down instruction,” but “chavruta” between two learners, a chavruta in which each one both gives and receives.
Regards, Chanokh He’anekh Feinschmecker-Palti
And by way of wit: the educator does not change his students’ diapers; rather, he exchanges opinions with them 🙂
In my opinion, Tosafot means that the minor is truly obligated in commandments, except that the Torah did not obligate him because he lacks responsibility. But the Rabbis obligate him and impose the responsibility on the parents.
According to your approach, the minor is not rabbinically obligated in the commandment itself, but is rabbinically obligated to educate himself toward the commandment. If so, then even according to Tosafot he cannot discharge the obligation of an adult who is obligated in the blessing rabbinically.
A. I too read him in my youth and was less impressed.
B. I absolutely did not speak of an educator who is a reciter, stupid, and manipulative. I spoke of the educational component within that act, as distinct from the instructional component. The educational component is everything beyond the learning. That is, whatever aids the absorption and internalization of the material, not the learning of it itself. This can be done by an authentic, original, and wonderful educator, and I would still say everything I said about it. In any case, I was not speaking about the educator as a person, but about the educational act and the role of the educator.
C. As above.
I will answer what I answered Chayota. I am speaking only about the educational component. Around it there is learning and genuine content. But that is the framework that supports education, not education itself.
On second thought, I don’t know why I didn’t accept this from the outset. It really is not reasonable that a minor who becomes an adult should suddenly fall formally between the cracks and not be obligated even rabbinically.
Lines 1–2
… checking whether the command was fulfilled, and the recompense involved in this “visitation”— …
Indeed. It is reasonable that the obligation function is monotonically increasing.
Why can it not be that he is obligated in the commandment itself rabbinically, and the reason is in order to educate himself toward the commandment? Just as there is a commandment to light a candle on Shabbat, and the reason is some other thing. And even if there are different rabbinic obligations, who says they do not discharge one another? For example, one person ate an olive’s bulk and is rabbinically obligated in Grace after Meals, and another is in doubt whether he already recited Grace after Meals and is rabbinically obligated (according to the view that by Torah law a doubt regarding Torah law is treated leniently)—is it obvious to you that the one obligated by doubt does not discharge the one who ate an olive’s bulk?
To Rabbi M.A.—greetings,
As the wise man already said, “Golden apples in settings of silver—a word spoken in its proper manner”: the most correct and true ideas will fall on sealed ears and win no attentiveness from the students, and will remain in the category of “one who reads without melody and studies without song,” which are received as “statutes that were not good and ordinances by which they could not live.”
The warmth, love, openness, attentiveness, and sincerity of the teacher toward his students, together with order and clarity in the presentation of the material—these are what bring about listening. Therefore, just as the most nourishing dish will not be eaten if it is not flavored properly—so too the true message must also be “something attractive and acceptable.”
Regards, Chafash Palti
That is not the same thing. Both in the case of doubt and in the case of the olive’s bulk, he is rabbinically obligated in the commandment of Grace after Meals. But the minor is obligated in the commandment of education toward Grace after Meals. That is a different commandment and not an obligation for a different reason within the same commandment.
All this is under my assumption that it is indeed not an obligation in the commandment of Grace after Meals itself. But you are right that it may be that the obligation is in the commandment of Grace after Meals and education is merely the reason. Still, in my view that is not the straightforward reading. Certainly according to what I explained as the position of Tosafot. It is not logical that the minor is obligated in the commandment itself only by virtue of education, and yet it is the parents who are responsible that he fulfill it.
A. Back then I was probably excited by the excess democracy he proposes in the school; today less so. But the light he cast on the figure of the good teacher still shines for me to this day.
B. I do not recognize an “educational component” separate from the instructional one. What is there beyond learning? Ethical talks? Even they have an instructional aspect. What aids absorption and internalization if not the uprightness and wisdom of the teacher himself? Pyrotechnic tricks?
C. “As above”? In section B you said the opposite!
Warmth and love, specifically, are not necessary. Integrity, dedication, and fairness—even when accompanied by personal coolness—are preferable to them.
Is Y.D. me? As best I remember, Rogers is not occupied at all with warmth and love.
To Chayota—greetings,
My comment refers to the remarks of “Y.D.” that appear below.
Regards, Chafash Palti
In another responsum you discussed that even according to the view that a Torah-law doubt is stringent by Torah law, it may still be that the doubtful person does not discharge the certain one. If so, I thought that according to this, even a rabbinic doubt does not discharge the one who ate an olive’s bulk (except that in the rabbinic realm all the obligations are grouped together under one category, rabbinic, and a minor can discharge an adult in rabbinic matters).
B. Are you identifying educator with teacher? In my view that is a conceptual mistake. Even if you are right that every educator is a teacher, still it is not the same thing. Do you really think that education, in the classroom or outside it, is done only through learning? A teacher’s personality is an educational component, and that is what I was talking about. The use of personality in addition to the material being taught (including value-laden material) is, in my view, education and not instruction.
C. I do not understand what is unclear in my “as above.” I wrote that I distinguish between the educational component and the instructional one, and I am not making claims about educators as human beings. As human beings they can be wonderful, original, impressive personalities, etc., but their educational work is defined as I defined it, and distinguished (even if not along the timeline) from the instructional work. Even if they are interwoven (and that is not always so), two different things are still being done here.
Now I think this takes us back to our endless disputes around the question of what “learning” is, in the second book of the trilogy.
Integrity, dedication, and fairness are personality traits. That is not instruction but education. I am not claiming that these three do not exist or are not important (though in most people it seems to me that this is indeed the case), only that they are not instruction but education.
I really am uncertain whether one who is obligated only out of doubt discharges one who is certainly obligated. Simply speaking, no (but I have not checked now). But one may discuss whether this is because the doubtful person’s obligation is not the obligation of Grace after Meals itself but an independent obligation (as later authorities investigated regarding the rule that a Torah-law doubt is treated stringently). But here that is very unlikely, since the obligation to be stringent in cases of doubt is in order to fulfill the obligation of Grace after Meals itself. Therefore it is quite clear that here the obligation is to recite Grace after Meals by virtue of the commandment of Grace after Meals and not by another rule.
Therefore it is more reasonable that the reason the doubtful person does not discharge the certain one is the level of obligation, not its type. Another proof of that is that the certain one does discharge the doubtful one.
Indeed, defining the two roles separately sounds like something late and mistaken. In my view there is no difference, as I wrote.
I assume this really is connected to the old discussion about what learning is. The separations between fields of knowledge. Between matters of halakhah. Action. Spirit and morality. Yes, it seems completely connected. ?
And beyond the shared root (according to Radak’s father)—the “palate” is a very powerful tool in the educator’s hand, for “truth speaks from his palate,” and when his words are spoken with flavor, they are pleasant to the student’s palate (and in the Aramaic of the book of Daniel, speech is called “taste”).
Regards, Chafash Palti
Even a “smile,” though its root is חוך, is useful for “education” 🙂
Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s view is that even if a doubt is stringent by Torah law, the doubtful person does not discharge the certain one, because the certain one “still remains under a doubtful obligation, for perhaps the one reciting on his behalf already blessed,” unlike the implication of Pri Chadash. You explained Rabbi Akiva Eiger to mean that if the doubtful person in fact already blessed and is exempt from Grace after Meals itself, and is obligated only by virtue of doubt, that is not the same type of obligation that can discharge someone certain. [According to this one could say similarly that according to the view that a doubt is stringent rabbinically, a doubtful person does discharge someone certain who ate an olive’s bulk, since he too is rabbinically obligated; if so, then all rabbinic obligations discharge one another, and a minor would discharge an adult in rabbinic matters even if in the minor’s case the commandment is education.] https://mikyab.net/%D7%A9%D7%95%D7%AA/%d7%9b%d7%95%d7%a4%d7%99%d7%9F-%d7%A1%D7%A4%D7%A7-%d7%A2%D7%A9%D7%94
The difference between level and type (quantitative or qualitative difference) is not clear to me. In any case, from the law that the certain one discharges the doubtful one, I do not see a proof, because the certain one uproots the doubtful person’s obligation at its source. He is like one who became obligated in a monetary oath because of one witness, and someone else came and paid on his behalf (or he himself jumped in and paid), in which case he is certainly exempted from the oath.
And perhaps the shared root between “educate” and “palate” stems from the fact that education in the ancient world took the form of repetition, as it is written: “And teach it to the children of Israel, put it in their mouths.”
Even a rabbi, when instructing his student Rav Shmuel bar Shilat to load his students with knowledge, uses an image of eating: “Feed them like an ox.”
Regards, Chafash Palti
And perhaps the dedication of a house too concerns filling it with residents.
Rabbi Akiva Eiger is not speaking about a difference in type but about the possibility that you have already blessed. That implies that on the side that you did not bless, you can indeed discharge the obligation. He does not view the obligation to be stringent in cases of doubt as a new obligation.
According to his view, it would seem that even if a doubt is stringent rabbinically, he still cannot discharge another rabbinic obligation, since there is a possibility that he did not bless. However, if he did it anyway, then post factum we are left with only a rabbinic doubt, and one should not bless again. But there is a significant reason to say that ab initio one should not discharge another.
As for the certain discharging the doubtful, your reasoning seems right. But it may be that this too is only post factum: if he blessed, then the doubtful person has fulfilled his obligation either way. But the question whether one may discharge him ab initio is not entirely simple to me, since at the moment he has a renewed obligation because of doubt. Still, logically your position seems right.
Nice.
And perhaps along this line, training in animals is done with a bit and bridle in its mouth, and by means of that one leads and directs and trains it, and that is why education is associated with the mouth.
Even if it be as you say in Rabbi Akiva Eiger, it is still possible that someone who ate an olive’s bulk could discharge one who is obligated because of a rabbinic doubt.
With God’s help, 1 Cheshvan 5782
To T”G—greetings,
We do not find, neither in Scripture nor in the language of the Sages, “education” with regard to animals. Only with human beings do we find “Train a youth according to his way,” “and he armed his trained men,” but with animals we do not find “education.”
In modern Hebrew the term designated for animals is “training,” but in Aramaic אלף means learning, and it too speaks of human beings. In Job there is “who teaches us from the beasts of the earth,” and there man is the one who learns from the animal.
What we do find in Scripture regarding animals is “knowledge”: “The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib.” The ox recognizes its “owner,” the one who cultivates it (as in “Is He not your father, your acquirer? He made you and established you”); and the donkey recognizes the one who feeds it, the one who fills its trough.
And by way of “who teaches us from the beasts of the earth” we may learn that the trainee’s connection to the educator comes out of gratitude for the educator’s devotion, who invests in cultivating him and fills his “trough” with knowledge and ways of thinking.
Regards, Chanokh He’anekh Feinschmecker-Palti
And perhaps “chanakh” is also related to “chanakh” [window], for the educator opens to his student “peeping apertures” into worlds of spirit and thought.
Regarding the dedication of a house (as it is written, “Who has built a house and has not dedicated it?”)—perhaps the intention is the completion of the house’s construction, namely setting up the doors (as Joshua says: “with his firstborn he laid its foundation, and with his youngest he set up its doors”).
The “palate” and the “gums” too are the doors through which a person’s physical nourishment enters, doors that a person is supposed to open or close according to the judgment of his mind.
So too about the education of a person, one may say that it is the setting up of “doors” through which knowledge, ways of thinking, and communication will enter and leave, by means of which a person will carry on an exchange of ideas with the world, receive inward what according to his judgment is fit to receive, and express outward what according to his judgment is fit to offer the public.
And as Maharal explained the reason for the halakhah, “If he made him deaf, he pays his full value,” because a person’s “form,” his essence, is the ability to communicate with the world, to receive knowledge from others and express opinion to others. Therefore, according to Maharal, one whose mind is limited only to “the juice of his own self” and cannot exchange ideas with another suffers from an essential deficiency.
Regards, Chafash Palti
And according to this line I explained jokingly that the leper who is purified receives sprinkling on the two central organs used for receiving information—the ear, with which one hears, and the thumb, with which one scrolls the “smartphone” 🙂
Bava Batra 8b—It was taught in a baraita: “And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament”—this is a judge who judges a true judgment truly, and charity collectors. “And those who turn the many to righteousness like the stars forever and ever”—these are teachers of children.
And in Midrash Mishlei 16:11—In the future, the Holy One, blessed be He, will sit in judgment over them, and place a Torah scroll on His lap, and say: Whoever occupied himself with this—let him come and take his reward, as it says (Isaiah 33:18): “Where is the scribe? Where is the weigher? Where is he who counts the towers?” “Where is the scribe?”—these are teachers of children for the sake of Heaven; let them come and take their reward. “Where is the weigher?”—these are those who weigh light and grave matters; let them come and take their reward. “Where is he who counts the towers?”—this is those who study halakhot and aggadot; let them come and take their reward.
So first of all—we will meet, God willing, in the Garden of Eden.
Second, it is well known that “I saw an upside-down world: those above below and those below above”—perhaps the one who in this world seems to you lowly is in fact above up there? As stated: you saw a clear world indeed!!
And third—Is external wisdom something greater than “the power of patience and good character traits” acquired through labor and toil so that I can be an educator???
But what can one do? Educators are trampled anyway, their stature and importance diminished, until the children themselves feel that their parents despise their teachers. So why not despise them even more and give complete legitimacy to the feeling that it is insulting to be in education…
That way we will continue driving the education system into the ground. How fun…
I once heard a story—I think it was told by Shalom Rosenfeld, of blessed memory.
There was an apostate Jew in France between the two world wars who was the “great luminary” of Catholic youth.
And behold, the great luminary was caught in a place where luminaries are not supposed to be.
They said to him: How can this be? You? You who are the compass of the generation.
And the apostate replied: I am the compass—not the north.
So much for the ethics of ethicists.
As for the commandment of education—I once heard from our teacher Michael Abraham (I think in the name of the Pnei Yehoshua)—
that blessings of enjoyment are by Torah law, since the source for them is the argument “it is logical—…”
and in several places the Gemara asks, “Why do I need a verse? It is logical”—implying that what is upheld by logic
is in fact by Torah law.
Therefore, since without educating children there will be no Torah (and no other civilization either)—logic dictates that we must educate them.
Therefore, to sing to a child “Cake, cake…” is a commandment by Torah law—and not an inferior occupation.
A healthy winter to us all
Exactly the same as the tanner and changing diapers. Sometimes I feel that people do not really read what I write. That is of course legitimate, but in that case it is not advisable to respond and criticize.
And regarding changing diapers—
Even King David prided himself that “my hands are soiled with blood, the embryo, and the placenta in order to declare a woman pure for her husband.” Moses already answered the ministering angels, who wondered what the divine Torah had to do with “creatures of matter,” that it is precisely because of the filth and lowliness in human nature that man needs Torah to penetrate the depths and lowliness in which man dwells, and from there Torah elevates his soul.
The work of the tanner is hard and involves much dirt and filth, but the product has enduring value for many years, unlike the perfumer’s work, full of fragrances of paradise but evaporating in a short time. So too is the work of the educator, whose influence is evident and preserved for many years.
With the blessing of a good Shabbat, Chanokh He’anekh Feinschmecker Palti
“And the other thing—thus David said before the Holy One, blessed be He: Master of the Universe, am I not pious? For all the kings of east and west sit in groups in their honor, while my hands are soiled with blood and with the embryo and with the placenta in order to declare a woman pure for her husband.”
Set your mind at rest! Our Rabbi!
I read your words carefully, as you will see below.
It appears that King David disagreed with you.
Moreover, you mentioned your article about the dismissal of Professor Rosenak from the Department of Jewish Thought.
You emphasized there that you do not write “peer-reviewed articles,” that you are not an academic. Quote:
“. A researcher can engage in Jewish thought with academic rigor (philological-historical), and afterward ask his students or readers what all this means to us/them. But that is only at the margins. A university deals in knowledge, not opinions. It teaches and does not educate.”
???
It seems that you are pleased that you have no share in “those who teach and do not educate.”
A good week and good tidings
I think that if you read it, your situation is far more severe than if you had not read it. I simply judged you favorably.
You are extremely puzzling, because the entire difference between a human being and an animal is choice, and you write that in a corrected world a person would do what he knows.
If so, he would not be a human being but an animal.
This is simply an enormous disgrace for someone like you—delete it immediately.
People have already written to you that in a corrected world there would be no place for learning; a person would only need to carry out what he knows.
That you write about education as disgraceful work is utter nonsense and terrible misunderstanding, because a person whose occupation is with lowly people may perhaps become coarse, but a person who influences lowly people is not their companion but one who influences them.
And above all, you forgot the main point: a person came here in order to choose, and one who imparts choice to people is the most honorable of all. How can this be called a technical skill?
I cannot believe what I am reading; I simply feel like humiliating you terribly, but I am overcoming my inclination.
On the contrary, humiliate me. There is no need to overcome anything. It would just be better if it were based on arguments and not on foolish ranting like what appears in your words.
Corrections at the beginning of the column:
Important to discuss it (feminine, not masculine)
Its definitions are not
Sorry, it says “are not.” So only the first one..
Thanks. Fixed.
You did not address my remark that education is a commandment by Torah law.
By logic—see there.
Despite my severe condition—I think I will manage to understand your answer.
Thanks
If you think my words are foolish ranting, please explain where the mistake is.
How can one explain where the mistake is when everything you wrote is one big absurdity? There is nowhere to begin. Some of your claims are absurd in themselves, and other parts either have nothing to do with my remarks or were already answered in the column itself. A perfect bundle of deficiencies. The ridiculous ranting that accompanies them only adds its own charming touch.
Here is the first absurdity: in a corrected world, a person would do what he knows out of choice. And that is not an animal but perhaps, if anything, an angel (or Adam before the sin. The Garden of Eden is almost a founding myth of a perfect world).
There is indeed some education in teaching, but research is the discovery of new information. I wrote all this in the column itself. But when teaching deals with new information and not with grinding over existing information, it also serves as an instrument of research and development of the field, since knowledge that has been accumulated but not brought to the public’s attention is as though it did not exist. All this was already written above.
A person who influences lowly people is engaged in something wonderful, exactly like a tanner and like changing diapers. I wrote this in the column. I said that one ought to value him greatly for the sacrifice, and yet the occupation in itself is lowly (not not useful, but lowly. Changing diapers is very useful, and so are growing wheat and cleaning sewage). Precisely because it is lowly, it is worthy of greater appreciation because of the sacrifice in such work.
Education does not impart choice to people. It usually inculcates in them what to choose. But even when it does impart choice to people (a foolish definition! More accurately: it directs them in how to use their choice), it would still be a lowly occupation. By the way, most educators do not even do that. As an educator, you correct the bug in people. That is very important, but lowly.
Like many here, you are conflating the benefit and value there is in an occupation with its intrinsic worth. There are occupations that are very important and very useful, yet their intrinsic worth is still low. That is why I brought up diapers and sewage. And conversely, precisely because it is an occupation involving the embryo and placenta, one should more highly appreciate the person who deals with them. Like the tanner. The Gemara I cited speaks exactly about this distinction, which you and others here keep failing to understand.
“Surely my word is like fire,” from me, the perplexed and despised among men, a worm and not a man. M.A.
A. You wrote that the first absurdity is that a person who does what he knows is like an angel and not an animal. You simply did not grasp the point. There is no difference whether you call him an angel or an animal or a computer: practically speaking he has no greatness of his own. And of course you will insist, like an idiot, on latching onto the point that he resembles an angel and not an animal because he does good. That is called seizing on a side point and fleeing from the main issue.
You did not answer the main point: to call something a bug when it is the whole essence of man is simply extreme stupidity.
B. A tanner is not lowly but simply smelly, so someone who does that is unfortunate; likewise someone who changes diapers is not lowly but unfortunate. It may be that because he does something considered degrading he will adopt degrading behavior.
When you speak about education as degrading work, no less—
A. It is not smelly and it is even respectable. B. It does not make a person stupid. Rather, what did you write? That he deals with a low part of the human being? You are simply foolish. It is not lowly; it is man. In short, there are no deficiencies in this at all.
You simply do not explain what is lowly about it; you just call it lowly without explaining.
What I would tell you is the opposite: to discover new information is very lowly, because it is a human bug that a person is not born knowing all wisdom.
I did not speak about utility at all, and you did not read my words. I distinguished between influencer and influenced in relation to your comparing involvement with women to involvement with children. I spoke about this being the highest part of man—choice—and therefore dealing with it is considered something very lofty.
You are getting into linguistic precision with me—whether it imparts choice or directs them in using it. Is that the issue?
You wrote that most of them do not even do this. I too will answer you: most learners innovate nonsense. That changes nothing at all. We were speaking about education itself; certainly its main point is to impart skills of choice to a person.
Besides, there is also a great deal of wisdom in education that does not exist in many other professions.
By the way, learning wisdom has a great danger, causing a person to become arrogant and behave boorishly, as anyone who visits this site can see.
May we be comforted with the rebuilding of Zion.
If you are optimistic, then I will try. Your complaint is not against me but against the Gemara in Sukkah, which says that education is rabbinic.
See my article on the status of logical reasoning, and there you will see what the meaning of “logic is by Torah law” is with respect to innovating a new commandment (as distinct from a detail within an existing commandment).
But of course none of this has any connection whatsoever to what I wrote.
Please send me a link to your article. Maybe then there will be fewer questions.
In the meantime—
the statement “It is a time to act for the Lord—they have voided Your Torah.”
What is its status? After all, one cannot claim that there is such a commandment in the Torah.
This is like a kind of foundation for the whole Torah—there are times when neglect of Torah is its fulfillment.
After all, without education there will be no Torah (and no civilization at all).
Raising and nurturing children is the fulfillment of Torah—
Regards
mozer
The article is here on the site. Search: “The Status of Logical Reasoning.” See there that logic alone does not turn into a commandment.
Could it be that the rabbi has Asperger’s? Or perhaps one needs an Asperger’s expert in education?..
If I understood correctly, there are 2 parts to the article—1. The greatness of Torah, and that education is not connected to learning. 2. Contempt for education, and the preference for a person choosing on his own, including the preference for individual education rather than educating that everyone must be the same thing.
And regarding the first part, I would only ask: who says that the Lithuanian “hashkafah” is really correct, that Torah is important in itself even without utility? Maybe education is more important than learning?? Of course one can interpret all the praises of Rabbi Hiyya who saved the generation and Rabbi Yehoshua ben Gamla as people engaged in something contemptible whose result is important, but that is already each person’s decision whether he values educators, like the question of whether prime minister is an important role…
And regarding the second part—it is clear that human choice is important, but education, when done in the right way, is supremely important. And if the wisest of all men wrote a book of ethical instruction/education, it seems that he thought this was something exalted.
I say so. You can of course disagree.
You are again conflating importance and results with whether the occupation itself is exalted.
A. The whole idea of identifying something as exalted in itself is odd. It is self-evident that there is no exaltedness in knowledge, wisdom, and other sweets if not in order ultimately to lead to people’s enjoyment or to help them fulfill their will or to fulfill the will of the Omnipresent. One who studies Torah has importance by virtue of fulfilling a commandment and by virtue of the cleaving described in Nefesh HaChaim, and in that there is no difference whether he studied what was already known or innovated it himself. And if he developed the Torah itself, then he also benefited the public—that is, he enabled them to understand the Torah better—just like someone who paves a road to the study hall or edits an important book rescued from the genizah. The difference is that paving a road is easy (that is, many would do it; supply is relatively large compared to demand) and also boring, whereas developing wisdom is hard (that is, few would do it) and also interesting.
B. And here is a question. Suppose a physical theory was discovered that is correct to tens of thousands of decimal places, but we somehow know that in truth it is not correct. Does it seem to you that in such a situation there is something exalted about researching and searching for the correct theory?! A person may derive great pleasure or curiosity from such an activity, like a mathematician who assumes there will never be any practical use for the mathematics he discovers—but exaltedness, who mentioned such a thing?
C. Another question. Suppose a certain world-genius studied all his life, reached clear conclusions according to his nature in all of Torah, and put everything in writing in a simple and clear way. One day he received a blow to the head and forgot all his learning. Now he can either go back and learn everything again for decades (reaching the same conclusions), or within a year read everything he wrote for himself and reconstruct his previous state. Which is preferable?
One more point regarding A. My impression is that people tend to judge others by what they themselves are good at. Rich people are interested in how much money others have. Celebrities are interested in how famous someone is. Thin and attractive people tend to judge according to thinness and beauty. Musicians judge by the quality of music. Chefs especially value culinary talent. And wise people too judge others according to wisdom. And which came first—well, in my opinion it is quite possible that it is not because wisdom matters to some and wealth to others that they exerted themselves and became wise or rich; rather, because a person is particularly successful in a certain field, he develops a bias to see the world through that lens, and that becomes what most interests him to improve in.
I once had some female friend who every time a certain person was mentioned in conversation, she immediately categorized him or her as handsome/beautiful. Every time I would be amazed anew at how ready to hand that category was for her, as though it lay in her pocket, and at the obsessiveness of attaching that judgment. For example, in my parents’ house I do not think anyone was ever described as beautiful. Maybe a little, and it was rare. Children were described as cute, but with teenagers and adults, and all the more so girls and women, no one dealt at all with their appearance (which is of course its own oddity), except perhaps whether they were neat or messy, and the like. One day I realized that I too categorize much of the whole world as stupid/wise and to what degree. In exactly the same way as that friend. Why? Probably because I consider myself (forgive the arrogance) a bit smarter than average, and I work in a field in which success depends mainly on talent (and diligence), even though I am like street mud compared to others who are many times smarter than I am—not only distant others but others who are beside me day after day—and so this is the Olympic arena that chiefly interests me.
Similarly, a good friend of mine from yeshiva days went into business and became as rich as Korah and more. More than once he said to me: Look at so-and-so and so-and-so—in yeshiva they were the best, and I even felt (these are his words about himself) that they looked down on me. And what do they have today compared to me? This one is a salaried worker in strategic consulting, and that one got a second degree in physics and is also salaried somewhere, improving the little spout on a kettle. Whereas I (again, his own words) have succeeded more than all of them put together. And I tell him that he relates to money as though this were the central world competition in which all people compete, and in that you are indeed very far ahead, tremendous bravo—but what is the great big deal? You succeeded in the field of money and the other succeeded in the field of knowledge of physics. It is not that your daily lives are all that different, and even if they were, different lives are not the most interesting thing.
It is already known that relativism regarding morality does not prove that there is no single correct morality, but it should certainly cause a person to think eight times before deciding that, despite his very great bias, in his own case the truth happens to coincide with the bias—and so he is like a judge who accepted a bribe and nevertheless issued a judgment of perfect truth.
I’m asking: why think that Torah is intrinsically more important than other useful things? Is that what the rabbi says by logic, or from a source, or from education—Heaven forbid?
Here you write that a lecturer in ethics does not have to align his behavior with ethical values. But that contradicts what you always said: that someone who says “this act is moral” but does not act accordingly suffers from a failure, and that this is a sign he did not understand what “moral” means, because morality by definition obligates one to follow it; like someone who says “I know there is a God but I do not obey Him,” who apparently does not really understand what “God” means.