Part II - Learning from the World of Learning
Part III – An
Educational Manifesto
Traditional
Judaism1 was long based on
authoritarian structures. Jewish authoritarian structures paralleled structures
of the general pre-Modern world. Most significantly, faith in a Creator had
long been a nearly universal norm. Thus, while Judaism, per se, was not consonant
with society around it, G-d was at the center of how people understood their
world. While this is not the place to properly review changes brought about by
the Modern era, it may be helpful to remind the reader about some of the great
upheavals that directly impact on religious continuity. Modern thinking opened
up all realms to free inquiry, leaving nothing to dogma.
One of my first teachers, perhaps inadvertently, summarized the impact on
Judaism when he said that contemporary acceptance of the Torah is no longer
characterized by “na’aseh venishma” ( we shall do and hear), but rather
by “nishma vena’aseh” (we shall hear and do). Whether we are conscious
of it or not, our zeitgeist impels us to understand what we believe and
why we believe it.
Modernity also challenged the authority of the elites by pronouncing all men to
be equal. As such, rabbinic authority was severely compromised, opening the way
for the various movements that arose independently of the traditional
rabbinate’s hegemony on ideology. In our own times, as Modernity continues to
unfold and develop, the last authoritarian stronghold to fall is the family. In
accordance with the democratic idea, older children are choosing whether or not
to listen to their parents. Of all structures, this is arguably the most
critical to Judaism. And yet, we see it falling nonetheless.
Moreover today, we see faith in a virtual state of siege. Even those that
proclaim to believe in a Creator rarely explain the world around them in more
than mechanistic terms. This is undeniably having an impact on our own ranks,
as reflected in the following quote from a recent talk of Rabbi Wolbe: “It
seems to me that education in faith is really weak today. You have to start
talking about faith already in cheder, telling the students they were
created from God, explaining how it is He who gives them life. He gave the
Torah that they are learning. Then later in yeshiva... you have to talk more
about faith.”
Such an educational need has arisen because these things are no longer assumed
in the surrounding society. Schools do not teach that we need to eat food or
that the sun keeps us warm, because these ideas are universally accepted. Once
faith has lost its universal acceptance, attentive teachers like Rabbi Wolbe will
see a need to “teach” it.
In spite of Orthodoxy’s extremely mixed record, the dominant approach in this
sector towards Modernity has been to isolate ourselves from general society,
its paradigms and questions. This has not only been the approach to education,
but to thought as well, as the philosophical investigations of the rishonim
(earlier rabbinical authorities) were shunned for more narrow textual study,
focusing mostly on understanding the how and when as opposed to the what and
why. The ability to isolate ourselves from the assumptions of society around
us, however, has of late become severely compromised.
Two trends have made Orthodox society extremely permeable, to the point where
Modernity is confronting the previously most isolationist segments of our
society. The first trend is the increasing dependence on media and particularly
the Internet, necessitated by participation in the marketplace. The second
trend is the greater exposure to the non-Orthodox brought about by the influx
of ba’alei teshuva in the last few decades (as well as our contact with
a greater number of defections from the Orthodox community). Thus, the
continued usefulness of the isolationist strategy is becoming more and more
questionable.
Almost all Jews today live part of their lives in contact with modern Western
culture. In many subtle ways, this culture competes with Judaism for our
loyalty. Unconsciously, many of its values become incorporated into our
world-view without our even realizing it. An obvious and dangerous example is
the growth of consumerism among all but the most careful circles. Consumerism
is here defined as spending inordinate amounts of time and effort on consumer
choices and believing that these choices help define our identity.
The above analysis leads to the conclusion that Jewish faith and values can no
longer be assumed as cultural norms even within the most conservative segments
of Orthodoxy. As such, we must consciously and explicitly teach our beliefs to
ourselves and our children, with the realization that the assumptions and
freedom of modern society ultimately gives our children a much greater
prerogative to reject these values. While these assumptions may not be ones
with which we agree, under the present circumstances, we have no choice but to
work within them, believing that we have good reason to expect success in the
free market of ideas and lifestyles. Thus, we must learn how to compete for the
hearts and minds of our own children as well as for the hearts and minds of
others. In our day, there are few, if any, voices presenting a clear strategy
on how to do this. Rather, we muddle along, focusing on performance of mitzvot
and Torah study in a cultural vacuum.
Instead of a fixed plan to deal with the causes of the current malaise that exists
in Orthodoxy, people are merely dealing with the symptoms. While we may salute
the courage of the Jewish Observer in acknowledging and addressing the
issue of dropouts, like the vast majority of efforts, it isolates the problem
to the individuals and not to problems with the system as a whole. The same can
be said of the myriad forums that are trying to deal with the variety of
marriage/family/ parenting issues that are more and more apparent within our
ranks. While focusing on individuals is much more palatable to the dominant
conservative forces within Orthodoxy, in the long run it is doing us a
disfavor.
One obvious arena that must be addressed in dealing with the problem outlined
above is our educational system. Essentially based on the Eastern European
yeshiva model, its focus is on giving students the ability to study texts. The
European yeshiva curriculum was aimed at providing two goals for its elite
student body: 1) proper mastery of the Talmud and accompanying literature to
provide the necessary expertise from which to reach halachic decisions,
and 2) enhancing the spirituality of the students in a mystical fashion,
grounded in the questionable idea that more involvement in Torah study will
bring about a stronger connection to G-d. In the contemporary context, these
two goals are clearly insufficient. While traditional study itself, if done
well, can be invigorating, it is not enough to give today’s culturally
ambivalent student an understanding and internalization of classical Jewish
beliefs and values, and thus motivate him to devote his life to G-d.
Thus, what is needed is a complete reevaluation of what we study and how we
study it, in accordance with what most of our children will need in order to
flourish within our religious tradition.
Part II
- Learning from the World of Learning
Many
of us owe a great deal to the yeshiva system. Even more important than
knowledge and skills, our religious inspiration was largely formed by the years
spent within the yeshiva walls. Clearly, there is much to be gained by carrying
over certain aspects of the yeshiva model.
While it is our thesis that the yeshiva curriculum is totally unsuited to the
needs of the Jewish masses, there are at least three components of the yeshiva
experience that are invaluable: 1) the atmosphere of intensity; 2) the rigor of
approach to text and, hopefully, truth; and 3) success in bringing about strict
adherence to halacha.
1) Former High Court Judge Menachem Elon once recalled the unmatched intensity
of his days at Yeshivat Chevron. The single-minded pursuit of understanding
that exists in the classical yeshiva is clearly invigorating. Elon described it
as a pursuit unlimited by time or schedule. In spite of its overwhelmingly
intellectual nature, the complete dedication of self to religious pursuits
experienced in the yeshiva is something that leaves an indelible mark upon a
person.
Similar dedication to a more holistic curriculum and setting may be harder to
bring about. The key may be in the schedule, logistics, and perhaps most
important, in the leadership of the new schools. When the rosh yeshiva
exhibits sincere and complete dedication, it sets the tone for the entire
yeshiva. This will presumably also be true of the new schools that we envision.
2) One of the appealing facets of the yeshiva is its democratic approach to
truth. A rebbe´s shiur does not stand if he cannot appropriately address
a logical flaw pointed out by even the weakest student. In fact, stumping the
rebbe is what almost every yeshiva student worth his salt aspires to do. In a
proper yeshiva, all are equal before the truth. The soundness of this approach
speaks for itself, allowing the natural ambition of the students to motivate
them towards achievement.
As we propose to move away from the uniquely cerebral approach of the yeshiva,
we must ensure that rigorous pursuit of truth not be sacrificed. Even as we put
more emphasis on personal expression, we must hold teachers and students
accountable for their ideas. If their ideas are not properly rooted, we will be
following in the ways of all antinomian sects, a risk which must be taken very
seriously.
3) One of the major goals of the yeshiva is to create punctilious loyalty to halacha.
While yeshiva dropouts may often reject halacha completely, successful
graduates are usually fanatically dedicated to the halacha, which they
see as directly emanating from the texts that they have studied.
One of my students observed that it often appears as if yeshiva graduates
worship halacha instead of G-d. Even as I believe this to be a very
insightful observation, historical experience shows that halachic rigor
serves as the backbone of Jewish spirituality. In our efforts to correct the
situation by putting G-d back in the center of Judaism, we must make sure that
we formulate a convincing motivational scheme to engender strict adherence to halacha
among our students.
The uninterrupted tradition of learning has given us a justified
self-confidence in transmitting a quality experience in the traditional
yeshiva. The creativity, rigor and depth involved in traditional study of the
Talmud and its commentaries is appealing to the best of minds. There is no
equally developed body of literature in other Jewish realms, such as Aggadata,
Jewish thought, or prayer. Thus, it is only natural that we are happy to stay
with something in which we are proficient. While such reticence to expand our
horizons is understandable, it is ultimately untenable. In today’s field of mass
Jewish education, the traditional yeshiva curriculum is as archaic as the
typewriter. One can create a typewriter that is literally a work of art. Even
one who can create such a typewriter and is not yet sure how to build a
computer, has no choice but to learn how to do the latter, if he expects any
appreciation and use of his creation outside of a museum.
In sum, we have no choice but to move past the yeshiva model in setting up
schools for the masses. This will require much experimentation in order to
create a quality experience. That being the case, we have everything to gain by
making use of every successful facet of our learning tradition. Rigor,
intensity and stress on normative behavior must be central to new institutions
of learning if they are to form the next link in the transmission of Judaism from
one generation to the next.
The dichotomy between the Jewish educational system and its cultural context is
perhaps greater today than ever before. The Jewish people, including all
segments of Orthodoxy, has never been so fully integrated within a culture
which often espouses a competing set of values and assumptions. This
integration creates a serious challenge to the cultural integrity of the Jewish
people.
In spite of this challenge, we find ourselves relying upon an educational model
that unrealistically expects an automatic internalization of Jewish values and
modes of behavior. Thus, schools expend most of their energy teaching text for
its own sake. These schools are banking that this quality experience will
magically inspire our children to accept any values, ideas or behaviors
that are associated with Judaism. The equation the current system depends upon
is "If I love (see the quality in) learning and learning
is exclusive to Judaism, than I must also love (see the quality in), and will
adhere to, all of Judaism."
Lack of true analysis of how and whether our schools meet our religious goals
is a sure harbinger of catastrophe. As a result, the only way to prevent
the impending crisis is to give sober and unsentimental thought about our goals
as a people, and the role of Jewish education in accomplishing these
goals Once we do that, we will feel compelled to
embark on a fundamental reformulation of the content and methods of Jewish
education.
Obviously, serious reformulation of Jewish education will take years, probably
even decades. Nonetheless, initiating this discussion is long overdue. Below
are a few modest suggestions to get the ball rolling.
It must be understood that the main job of schools is to create balanced and
secure, truly religious Jews. If our students end up becoming talmeidei
chachamim, so much the better, but that must remain a secondary goal.
In a world where individuals choose their beliefs and lifestyles, the societal
norm is to understand one's choices. In this cultural context, we clearly
cannot expect great success without giving our children some knowledge of why
Jews are supposed to do what they do. Our schools need to give over
understanding of the Jewish belief system and code of conduct. This
will then give our children a sense that they know the raison d'etre of
the Jewish enterprise. In short, our children must be shown that Judaism as an
organic system is the most effective way to a meaningful and holy life.
Curriculum must be selected that will explicitly communicate Torah values,
their sources and implications. Mitzvot should be studied in their broader
ideological context, from a philosophical as well as legal perspective (i.e.
students must be exposed to the "mega"-why of the performance of
mitzvot). Teaching the beauty of individual mitzvot without plugging them into
something more systemic is a big mistake that may well have been a prime cause
of the "hitchabrut" phenomenon in Israel. (This
phenomenon is where young people pick and choose which mitzvot to observe based
on how relevant to their own lives they perceive them to be.) It is for this
reason that Rav Kook was in favor of teaching Kabbalah on a mass level
in the Modern period.
We must teach our belief system and faith. This means that students need to
know how Jews have historically understood the nature of G-d, prophecy and
other such matters. As a simple example, someone who has not gone through the
Rambam's discussion on prophecy in Hilchot Yesodei haTorah
will probably be unclear on how we can categorically deny the claims of other
religions. Since today's individual will be exposed to other faiths, such
information is indispensable.
More important than anything else is the creation and internalization of
students' relationship with God. Prayer is central to this. It should be taken
for granted that students have to know what they are saying: the meaning of the
words as well as the ideas behind them. We must teach kavana. Children
must be taught meditation skills as well as to be comfortable with silence and
being alone. It is true that such things are not easily taught. Their central
value, however, force us to spend great time and effort on developing and
perfecting the strategies towards giving over these skills. If this means
working in small groups or one-on-one, it is well worth the extra cost
in personnel.
Finally, texts must be chosen based on content and in line with educational
goals. As such, we must spend more time on Tanakh and Jewish thought and less
time on Gemara. It is worth noting that as far as the halacha is concerned,
Tanakh is the only subject that a father has to make sure is learned by his son
(Y.D. 245:6, see Taz and Gra).
Concerning method, we must prioritize religious socialization over the
acquisition of information. Thus, the educational relationship that must be
created between teacher and student should be in the form of
apprenticeship. Apprenticeship is
teaching by theory followed by practical example. The apprentice is then tested
on his own ability to use the theory as best as he can under the scrutiny of
the master. A good master will allow the apprentice to develop his own unique
style with the tools that the master has taught him.
Historically, something akin to the apprenticeship model has often been a
trademark of Jewish education. An extreme illustration is to be found among
several of our sages in Berachot 62a. No less than Rebbe Akiva and Ben
Azai followed their teachers into the restroom to see how they conducted
themselves there. Rav Kahana placed himself under Rav's bed to hear how
his teacher would behave while having marital relations. All three students
defended their practice by saying that the actions of their teachers is Torah
and must be learned. Clearly, such great scholars knew that they could
have asked their teachers for such instruction in the sterility of the
classroom. They also knew, however, that one can only fully learn Torah from
seeing it being lived.
Indeed, we will need to spend more time with our students and invite them into
our lives. A student needs to see how a truly religious Jew interacts with his
children, what he does with his free time, how he eats and makes berachot,
etc. Students have to see how Jews celebrate and why they celebrate, they must
see how and why Jews mourn. Correspondingly, teachers need to be role models
worthy of emulation.
Even within the classroom, we have to take the phrase "naaseh venishma"
more seriously. As most educators know, a hands-on experiential lesson is
almost always a successful lesson. Beyond learning about mitzvot, their
performance must be fully experienced. A full mitzvah experience should
obviously have more than a physical component. When a teacher shakes a lulav,
he or she should find strategies of how to prepare for the mitzvah with his or
her students, through meditation, song, motivatory stories, and the like. There
is often no greater source of inspiration than seeing and being involved in a
properly performed mitzvah.
Students also need to be exposed to the few outstanding role models left in our
generation. It is important for them to hear about tzaddikim and see
them firsthand. People need living heroes. If we do not provide them, the
children will get them from somewhere else. One should not underestimate the
role of heroes in personal values development. In this, one must be careful to
distinguish between tzaddikim and gedolim. While all gedolim
worthy of the name have many outstanding traits, they often have painfully
visible flaws. Exposure to such people can often be disconcerting for
students. While their teachers'
flaws - within reason - help to make them more human and thus more
accessible as role models, we have to be careful whom we hold up as our heroes.
The first step in overhauling the current educational system is giving
teachers (current and future) the ability and knowledge to do so. Teachers
are in an ideal place to be the foot soldiers of the revolution that we would
like to implement.
New teachers must be trained to view themselves as religious facilitators. They have to understand that they hold
the keys to the next generation's spiritual development or lack thereof. As a
result, a great responsibility will be given to them. By the same token, an
unparalleled merit will be theirs if they can meet this challenge successfully.
Theirs is no less than epic history in the making.
We live in a time that demands bold thinking. Indeed, we live in a time that
demands bold action. More than ever, it is an "et la'asot
lahaShem" – a time when we require the courage to act in
radical fashion, for the sake o the Divine.
Rabbi Francis Nataf, a graduate of Yeshiva University, is the Educational Director of the David Cardozo Academy (Machon Ohr Aaron) in Jerusalem. He is the author of several essays in the Jerusalem Post and Jewish Action. Rabbi Nataf lives with his wife and children in Jerusalem.
1 I am focusing on Orthodox
Judaism, as I believe it to be the only serious link to our religious heritage.
Orthodoxy is the only movement that has preserved our loyalty to Jewish law and
the movement that has best maintained the core values enshrined in our
classical texts. As such, I view Orthodoxy as having a responsibility to the
entire Jewish people and not only to denominational adherents. [back]