You’ve been asked to lead a davening class in your school. Whether you’re new to teaching or a seasoned veteran, leading a group in davening is unlike teaching any other discipline.

The term teiku represents a profound acceptance of ambiguity in Jewish learning. It teaches that multiple paths to truth are essential in education and faith. This article reflects on the author’s journey with teiku and its implications for teaching Torah today.

Problems and objections notwithstanding, Anzovin and her videos are highly entertaining and memorable. More important, they not only reach those who are familiar with Talmud, they also reach audiences that were previously unaware of, uninterested in, or even turned off from Jewish learning. For that alone, we as Jewish educators have what to learn from.

When people whom I haven’t seen for a long time say to me, “You haven’t changed a bit!” I do not take that as a compliment. If I am not better today than I was ten or twenty years ago, then I have definitely missed many opportunities. That is true both in my personal life and in my professional life. I certainly hope that I am a better person, a better parent, a better child, a better spouse, a better student of Torah, and a better teacher than I was a decade ago.

While the experience for us was fun and mutually enlightening, for our students it was mind-expanding. They could never have imagined that the skills and content in two dramatically disparate subjects could actually dovetail and mutually reinforce one another, that religion and humanities could speak to each other, and that knowledge and ideas could be both particular and universal at the same time.

It is the culture of the school that transformed these otherwise ordinary teachers into an extraordinary team. To watch them working together in partnerships which may have otherwise been difficult to imagine, was truly inspiring. And while not every school has all the same features that make this institution stand out, I believe that others can learn about creating the kind of culture that makes it safe for teachers to be vulnerable. It is that space of safe vulnerability where authentic growth happens.

When we learn parshanut in school, we often focus on what the text says, what the commentary says, or how the commentary addresses a particular problem or issue in the text. If we take the time to learn and think about who these people were and how their work reflects their biographies and historical contexts, we gain a deeper understanding of them and their work.

As educators, we have an incredible opportunity to use this moment to deepen our students’ understanding of Tehillim. Rather than just mumbling words by rote, we can help our students understand what the words they recite actually mean. Rather than mindless repetition, we can help our students connect to the spiritual and emotional responses the words are meant to evoke.