Question

Hello Rabbi,
 
I very much enjoyed the series the Rabbi wrote about freedom and liberty. It is clear to me that Rabbi Kook would not have signed on to it, and I doubt that this is what Judah Halevi meant either. But the ideas are certainly very worthy, and they contain very important insights. In general, the religion of freedom does not understand the problematic nature of what it is doing. I believe that the high priests of this religion (Dawkins, Harris, etc.) truly want what is good, but do not understand the paradox in what they are saying.
If the Rabbi is not familiar with Jordan Peterson, I highly recommend him. He is someone who defines himself as a liberal, but examines in a very genuine way where freedom is something healthy and where it is not.
 
With God’s help, we are planning to move to Efrat. We became interested in a new school from the Meitarim network, founded by Rabbi Melchior, which they are about to open there. I intentionally linked to the page I linked to, and not to the homepage, because this is the page that convinced me that even as a secular person, and certainly as a religious person, this is the destruction of education. I realized that Rabbi Melchior is making exactly the same mistake that the Rabbi keeps talking about all the time—the confusion between pluralism and tolerance. When students say little “insights” (a sanitized word for nonsense that sounds nice) to explain “These are the things that have no measure,” the teacher says: okay, a multiplicity of voices. I know you are saying nonsense, but who am I to tell you what is correct?
(Half of what goes on there I can describe from the religious-schools-leaning-toward-the-pious schools that I studied in. I am referring to the exceptions, not to the question of whether Adam and Eve had navels. An important question that has already been discussed in the house of my father and teacher, may he live long.)
What will happen on the day someone tells them: listen, facts do not care all that much about your feelings—what will these children say? Presumably they will say: you are just being hostile, silencing, hateful, etc. Tolerance at the height of its glory. How will a child who has never been told, “My friend, what you said sounds nice, but it is also worth knowing what everyone knows to be true,” deal with the real world?
I really do not understand why they need to invent little insights (nonsense) in order to present a diversity of opinions. Are there not enough disputes throughout the entire Talmud, among the medieval authorities (Rishonim), later authorities (Acharonim), and halakhic decisors—and that is before other philosophies, in which there are also worthy disputes—that they need to go out and gather vapidities from the mouths of babes and sucklings, and then validate whatever pops into their heads?
When I thought about it, I understood the connection between the Rabbi’s claims about liberty and freedom and what he says about proper pluralism. What is the difference between saying “these and those are both the words of the living God” regarding a dispute between Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages, and saying it about whatever second-grade students happen to imagine?
The answer is that both Rabbi Yehuda and the Sages express a genuine understanding of the world, one that each person can identify with and understand. Presumably we will identify with one and not the other; it is possible that we will say that our understanding is only logical, but does not suit us emotionally. That is all fine. But they present positions that are truly worth deliberating over. That is why there is such power in hearing Rabbi Blumentzweig completely convince you that Ketzot is right, and then say that specifically when you go more deeply into the reasoning, you understand that Netivot is right. So who is right? There are two sides here to which it is absolutely worth remaining attentive. From that place one can certainly educate people that even if they conduct themselves in a certain way (like Ketzot), that does not at all mean there is no other side that they themselves can understand, and perhaps next year they will identify with it more.
By contrast, what second-grade children say does not necessarily meet that standard. Maybe by chance there will be there a dispute between Bartenura and Tosafot Yom Tov in understanding the Mishnah. But the serious attitude toward their words does not stem from the fact that they said something wise, but from the fact that they said something. That is all. That is the standard. Every statement is respected as though it were the words of the living God. Consequently, even if by chance someone were to hit upon the depth of Rabbi Akiva Eiger’s view on the matter, there would be no amazement, because according to the relevant standards (the student spoke), there is no special significance to saying deep and exalted things as opposed to uttering complete nonsense.
Where does this lead? Rabbi Melchior thinks this teaches children that there is no standard at all. If there is no standard, there will be no quarrels (and we are back to Dawkins and his friends).
I think he is completely mistaken. It teaches the exact opposite—that the standard is that I said it. Consequently, if someone says I am wrong, he is not meeting the standard I was taught. Therefore he must be denounced (see Stalin, Antifa, and the rest of the destroyers of standards).
On that same page there is a wonderful story about a child praying that they will stop forcing him to believe in God. I wondered why they saw fit to include this story in the canon. Apparently it is nice to pray to the Holy One, blessed be He, that He should help me not believe in Him Himself, and there is a cute mathematical loop here. But apparently there is something else here too, and I wonder what it is.
Who is forcing him to believe in God? If he means the school, then they have completely failed in their mission. If he means the parents, I can only ask myself: how does a first-grade child understand that they are forcing him to believe? I find it hard to believe that a first-grade child is capable of understanding the complexity that would make such a sentence possible. A child can ask that they stop forcing him to perform an act. My son (first grade) does not like wearing tzitzit (because of bathroom issues). I can understand his praying that we stop forcing him to wear the tzitzit (by the way, when it bothers him he takes it off and I do not say anything. Both educationally and, in my humble opinion, halakhically, but that is a longer discussion). I understand if my daughters pray that I stop telling them to pray every day (a less profound paradox than their paradox). But it seems to me that my children would not even understand the question if they were asked whether I force them to believe in God. How can belief even be forced? You can present things as self-evident (“Hear O Israel”), and you can compel actions accordingly. But how can you force belief? The child who asks that they stop forcing him to believe has already succeeded in getting out of the state of coerced belief. At this point they are only demanding of him (?) that he believe, but there is no coercion here—he is freely choosing not to believe. So what is the prayer about?
I suspect that the school is forcefully introducing reverse brainwashing. They teach the students that they are really being coerced, and that faith must come from within, etc. Is it healthy for a child when the school tells him that his parents are coercing him? If we are not talking about abusive parents, but simply standard commandment-observant people, does the school have the right to tell a child: everything your parents tell you—know that it is a kind of coercion, and the right thing is to try to free yourself from those chains? Can a second-grade child cope with such a statement?
 
My conclusion is that in second grade it is good to study disputes of the Tannaim and halakhic decisors; that way you teach children that there are different sides that are definitely worthy of consideration (with the subtext that there is also nonsense, which should be cast behind our backs), and in the high-school years, out of an understanding that reality is complex and multifaceted—it already is that way, so why look for multiplicity where there is none, when there are already so many facets?—to encourage them to seek their own path.
 
I went on at length, because I know these are matters the Rabbi deals with a great deal. There is here a very practical and very dangerous application of the things the Rabbi has been warning about for 20 years. Meitarim students—if there are any among them who do not cross over to the dark side of total postmodernism—will find themselves in the Rabbi’s armchair. Perhaps it would be right to try to present Rabbi Melchior with his mistakes already now….
 
 
To conclude, one more thing from the wider world—

Is there a connection between the madness in the following three articles—
 
http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-41608602
 
https://www.google.co.il/amp/s/reason.com/blog/2018/04/09/london-knife-murder-numbers-re-teach-old/amp
 
 
https://news.walla.co.il/item/3149662
 
My answer: when you are so afraid of being perceived as racist that you are unwilling to see who and what is standing before you, all that remains is to hold learned discussions about the quality of knives, and even to propose banning carrying them.
 
Hope this was interesting.
 
Only goodness and kindness,
Shabbat Shalom!