An Ethos of Empowerment |

Levi Cooper is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah and teaches Jewish studies at the Pardes Institute and other university level programs in Israel. Rabbi Dr. Cooper is Contributing Editor to Jewish Educational Leadership.

When we walk into our classrooms, we enter with a matrix of complementary goals. We anticipate our pupils will gain literacy and develop skills, we strive to socialize our students and prepare them to interact with the world, and we hope to inculcate a love for learning. These goals fall under the rubric of empowering our students.

This paper highlights two aspects of the culture of empowerment that held sway in the yeshiva, the modern Talmudic academy that developed in Eastern Europe in the nineteenth century. The first aspect is the adversarial atmosphere that reigned in the classroom, and the second aspect is the joint endeavor of peer-teaching. My choice of these two features is guided by the sense that to varying extents they are not employed in our day school systems, but could foreseeably be included in the teacher’s toolbox.

The Adversarial Atmosphere

a. Classroom atmosphere

Widespread policy in the modern yeshiva was to encourage students to actively challenge teachers.[i] This promoted what could be termed an adversarial atmosphere in the classroom. As Rabbi Moshe Eliyahu Munk (1917-1971), an educator who had studied in Telz and then in the Hevron yeshiva in Jerusalem during the inter-war period, described:[ii]

Usually – in particular in the yeshivot that followed the method of learning that crystallised in Lithuania – the class is not a lecture by the head of the yeshiva; rather, the student is permitted and expected to attack the words of the head of the yeshiva at each and every moment; to interrupt his words; to refute his logical reasoning, and; to cite sources from the wealth of Talmudic literature that oppose his opinions. More than once, students bested the head of the yeshiva.

R. Munk’s choice of belligerent language is indicative: the student attacks (lehatkif) the teacher, seeking to best him (nitzhu). This classroom atmosphere has roots in the Babylonian Talmud where aggressive language is employed to depict the steely legal debates among the sages. One source states that a parent and child or teacher and student who study together ‘become adversaries’.[iii] The term R. Munk used to describe when the students were able to best the teacher (nitzhu) reminds the reader of the Babylonian beit midrash were sages are described as besting (menatzhim) one another, and where even the Almighty could admit to being vanquished (nitzhuni).[iv]

The yeshiva classroom, therefore, was anything but the epitome of decorum. Regarding the famous yeshiva in Volozhin, memoir writers described how students would regularly interrupt the teacher with questions and comments.[v] Such incessant disruption by the students was aimed at demonstrating their own Talmudic dexterity.[vi] The most noticeable aspect of this convention was the decibel level in the classroom. The head of the Telz yeshiva, Rabbi Eliezer Gordon (1840-1910), famously demanded that his students argue with him, stating that he was unaccustomed to teach in a graveyard. The ensuing debates were lively, and on occasion R. Gordon sweated so much, that he was wont to change his clothes after the class.[vii]

Rabbi Moshe Avigdor Amiel (1882-1946), who was an active member of the Mizrahi religious Zionist movement and served as Chief Rabbi of Tel-Aviv, offered a colorful description of the class of another famous yeshiva head – Rabbi Shimon Yehuda HaKohen Shkop (1860-1939). R. Amiel had studied under R. Shkop as a young lad in 1894-1897, though the particular vignette was transcribed almost forty years later. R. Amiel’s recollection sums up the adversarial, and even hostile, environment of the classroom:[viii]

If not the classes themselves, then at least the manner that the class was given is still guarded in my memory as if it were yesterday or the day before. The class would normally last about two hours, but it was interrupted innumerable times. For each and every sentence in the class, the better pupils would protest by shouting out in loud voices to refute the words of the teacher – who seemed to them to be an angel of God. And even amongst themselves they did not conduct themselves with good manners, such that one should speak and another should not interrupt the words of his peer. Rather, all at once entire gangs of students would set out to do battle with the teacher. And it appeared that the matter [under discussion] concerned their very existence, and they were prepared to wrestle with [the teacher] in a struggle that knows no end or bounds.

R. Amiel’s account is significant because he points out that like R. Gordon in Telz, R. Shkop was pleased with this very atmosphere:

And at that time, the teacher [R. Shkop] would sit with a relaxed calm and quiet, as if to say: “Rejoice, O innards!” On the contrary, he was not satisfied at all from those quiet students who sat silently, [with a pose of] silence as admission.[ix]

Lest we think that R. Amiel’s memory of a childhood impression is unreliable, we should note that this account appeared in a Festschrift in honor of R. Shkop which was published during his lifetime, and is echoed in recollections of other former students.

b. Problems with the adversarial atmosphere

Before extolling the virtues of the adversarial atmosphere, a few caveats are in order. First, not all teachers called for an active battlefield every time they entered the classroom. Rabbi Barukh Ber Leibowitz (1864-1939), who headed the yeshiva in Kamenets from its founding in 1926, reportedly did not allow his students to interrupt the class. It was only once he finished his class that fiery discussion ensued.[x] A student of R. Barukh Ber, Rabbi Yisrael HaLevi Be’eri (1911-1972) remarked that students did not interrupt with questions out of deep veneration for their teacher. R. Be’eri recalled an occasion when a new student who was not familiar with the protocol asked a question. R. Barukh Ber, who had recently returned from a fundraising trip to America, responded to this impudence:[xi]

I can’t understand how one could not understand such a logical class. I taught this class before lay people in New York and they understood nicely, and a yeshiva student does not understand! … Besides, … I can’t understand how one could ask in the middle of the class. I remember when my master and teacher the great [Rabbi Hayim HaLevi Soloveitchik of Brisk, 1853-1918], may his merit protect us amen, would teach a class, and I listened with the greatest of concentration to every word, and my bones would tremble as I listened to what he said, for the teacher is like the angel of God, and my teeth would truly chatter, so much so that I could not emit a word from my mouth. So how is it possible that a yeshiva student would presume to question in the middle of the class!

R. Be’eri added that after this caustic response R. Barukh Ber approached the student:

Nevertheless, when he completed his class, he called the aforementioned hothead[xii] and requested forgiveness from him for the affront.

Clearly R. Barukh Ber felt that interruption and disruption was disrespectful.

R. Barukh Ber’s conduct and his subsequent regret, leads us to another concern about the adversarial style of the classroom: the side effects of this culture. Unyielding disputes could too easily become argumentative rather than productive, meaning that adversarial discussions were not always a positive feature of the class.[xiii]

Perhaps of even greater concern might be the effect outside the classroom: what were the consequences of imbibing such an aggressive atmosphere? One must wonder how this culture affected teacher-student and student-student relationships. The aforementioned R. Munk made a point of noting that despite the aggressive intellectual sparing, students still respected teachers:[xiv]

This [that is, student attacks on the teacher’s words] does not harm the standing of the head of the yeshiva, nor the respect that they feel towards him.

R. Munk, however, was keenly aware of the dangers, though he considered the risk worthwhile:

It is possible that this form of running the class will arouse the instinct for argumentativeness; however it appears to me that the concern for corrupting character is not great. It is better that those instincts for arguing that are inherent in a person, should be directed to the positive horizon of spiritual striving, for the sake of clarifying the truth. And if the student should suffer a defeat, he will not be able to continue his attack, for the society will force him to acknowledge the truth.[xv]

At least in the case of R. Shkop – as R. Amiel indicated – the teacher himself did not become embroiled in the antagonistic environment, presiding over the cacophony of his classroom with poise. This image is further illustrated in a recollection of another student, Rabbi Yitzhak Kosovsky:[xvi]

We, his students, we would always wonder amongst ourselves, about his great patience. And we would ask one another in amazement: Isn’t our master a Kohen? Where is his irritability and his impatience?[xvii] But he always fulfilled the verse The lips of a kohen will guard knowledge (Malachi 2:7), for he guarded his mind from getting angry and irate, he was pleasant to his students and always tried to explain any difficult matters[xviii] to those who were listening to him and those who asked him questions, with calmness and with pleasant words as is appropriate for a sage.[xix]

R. Shkop offered a paradigm of non-aggressive, interactive learning. The question is whether the students internalized this message and mimicked his conduct. As we have seen from R. Amiel’s account, the hostile atmosphere appears to have inculcated anything but common courtesy and good manners.[xx] While praising R. Shkop’s patience, R. Kosovsky also mentioned the students’ impoliteness:[xxi]

In Telz it was customary that the students would interrupt the teacher in the middle of his class with various questions that were not always relevant, as you can imagine. But [R. Shkop] never lost his inner calm, and amidst the din and the tumult that arose due to the questions and answers of the boys and the debates between them, his pleasant voice would be heard answering those who asked him questions, after he heard with patience and with calmness all that they had to say. And particular mention should be made, that in [R. Shkop] one never saw the coarse characteristic of the desire for one-upmanship, to sustain his words alone. And when on occasion one of the audience asked a really serious question, that at first blush demolished the entire structure of his class that he had toiled over so much, he did not get angry and did not disdainfully dismiss him and he did not try to outdo him with words. Rather he would respond calmly, with pleasantness and with his high forehead wrinkled, and he would say: “This indeed is difficult and needs to be delved into,” and he would invite the questioner to come to him after the class, in order to consider the matter and delve into it together.

Pause should be given to these pitfalls and how they might be avoided, when considering the prospect of encouraging an adversarial atmosphere in the classroom. But why should we even consider encouraging our students to engage teachers in Talmudic battles? What are the advantages of an adversarial culture in the classroom?

c. Positive effects of the adversarial atmosphere

Despite these caveats and the dangers they acknowledge, the adversarial spirit had palpable positive effects. The expectation of active and aggressive participation by students had an impact that went beyond the class. Students invested considerable time and effort in preparing for the class. In turn, this affected the teacher who felt the need to come to class well-prepared, in an attempt to preclude the possibility of the teacher being bested by the students. Moreover, the teacher would distribute a list of keys sources for students to review in preparation for the discussion.[xxii] By the time teacher and students met in the classroom, both parties would be armed with knowledge and ammunition for the ensuing Talmudic battle.[xxiii] The extensive and meticulous effort invested in preparation, was undoubtedly borne out of the impending adversarial atmosphere. Woe to the one who walked unprepared into the classroom-cum-battlefield!

Interestingly, there was an antinomian angle to this program: the entire meeting between student and teacher bespoke a certain dismantling of the traditional hierarchical model. For the traditionally minded, this notion sounds problematic; but the structure may have had concrete benefits for the development of the student. Classic Jewish sources on modes of study emphasised the deferential treatment a student was enjoined to accord a teacher. In the words of Maimonides (1138-1204):[xxiv]

There is no honor higher than that which is due to the teacher; no reverence profounder than that which should be paid him.
To give decisions in his teacher’s presence is forbidden at all times. Whoever gives a decision in his teacher’s presence is deserving of death.
A disciple may not greet his teacher or return his greeting in the same manner as people are wont to greet companions and return their greetings. But he should bow to his teacher and address him with reverence and deference.
When his teacher and a colleague dispute with one another, he must not, in his teacher’s presence, interpose his opinion as to who is right. He must not contradict his teacher’s statements.[xxv]

The adversarial culture in the yeshiva was diametrically opposite. Historian Shaul Stampfer offered a psychological perspective for the dichotomy between respect for the teacher and the student’s right to argue stridently and vociferously in class. He explained that a balance was created that served adolescent students grappling with their identity: on one hand, students were provided with an outlet to flout authority and prove their worth; on the other hand, students continued to look to the very same authority figures as paragons worth imitating.[xxvi] Stampfer’s observations of nineteenth century yeshiva students may continue to be relevant to students of our day.

On another level, being encouraged to challenge authorities offered students a chance to be considered authorities themselves, even if only for a few short moments as the teacher paused his presentation to respond to the interrupting student. The student was not consigned to being a spectator, sitting in the bleachers, as teachers and texts battled on the playing field of tradition. The student was allowed and urged to take part in the Talmudic tussle. The entire process turned the student from a passive presence to an active participant.[xxvii] This process resulted in empowering the student as a player in the Torah arena; a palpable positive outcome of the adversarial atmosphere.

The joint endeavor of peer-teaching

A further framework of empowerment was the ḥavurah or ḥaburah (fellowship).[xxviii] As opposed to the ḥavruta – a study pair, the ḥaburah was a group of ten to twenty advanced students who would gather together to present the fruits of their studies to each other. Heads of the yeshiva generally did not attend these sessions, so the insights were peer-reviewed. The absence of the teacher created a safer space for students to explore ideas without the anxiety of being assessed by teachers, who were key players in the future plans of students.[xxix]

Recollections from the nineteenth century Lithuanian institutions make no mention of these study gatherings, so it appears this informal institution of empowerment developed at the beginning of the twentieth century. A 1938 publication of the Kamenets yeshiva records the rabbis who gave regular classes and adds:[xxx]

In the yeshiva, committees for Torah novella of the students were organized.

It is unclear what the nature of these “committees” were and who organised them. From the context, it appears that these committees were a form of ḥaburah.

The aforementioned R. Munk offered an explicit and detailed description of such a forum, highlighting its advantages:[xxxi]

Students, therefore, join together in ḥaburot. Such a ḥaburah was comprised of up to twenty students of approximately the same level. In [the ḥaburah] each student would voice Torah novella. Each student was compelled to aspire to independent creativity in study, to question and to answer, to encompass a broad topic while delving into the commentators and the judicial rulings, all the while striving to identify a comprehensive solution that would answers the many questions. The necessity to innovate is a challenge for each student; he extends his study hours, invests himself entirely in the topic, dedicates innumerable hours to delve into all the sides of the problem and all the books that are connected to the matter, and he trains himself to form independent thought that penetrates to the root of the issues, through maximum intellectual concentration.

R. Munk stressed the element of empowerment, as the forum required participants to wholly invest themselves in preparation and the experience precipitated individual creativity. R. Munk was keenly aware that the value of the exercise was not in the actual content of the class:

The value of these novella were not so much in the results of the thought process or the learned conclusions, rather in fulfilling the pedagogic charge for independent work and in the great spiritual satisfaction of a student who succeeds in drawing original ideas from the Talmud.

Thus the peer-teaching ḥaburah was aimed at empowering students, rather than imparting knowledge.

Where they empowered?

The essence of empowerment is to enable students to replicate or further the task at hand on their own. The success of attempts to empower students could be measured in a variety of ways. A common index for measuring educational success is observing where students end up. This is a long term benchmark that can only be assessed over time. More importantly, this benchmark is problematic in that it is subject to a slew of factors that are beyond the relatively controlled atmosphere of the classroom. A different yardstick might gauge the immediate impact of the lessons taught: how do student act during their free time?

This question leads us to an even less organized, more spontaneous, forum where students would demonstrate to each other their Torah prowess: on walks during afternoon free time. These walks were the only social respite yeshiva students enjoyed and the atmosphere was relaxed. Nonetheless, some students took advantage of the opportunity to continue honing their skills. In the words of one Volozhin student, Menahem Mendel Zlatkin (1875-1965):[xxxii]

The overwhelming majority of yeshiva students were immersed in Talmud study alone. And even during free time, when their friends would come to visit them, or, when they would go to visit their friends, or when they would go out for a walk to breath fresh air together,[xxxiii] they continue to be involved in the words of Torah: they debate at length, asking questions and dismantling them, and besting each other in Jewish law. And their atmosphere is an atmosphere of Torah.[xxxiv]

This recollection indicates a measure of success of the two programmes of empowerment: students continued debating finer points of our tradition even in their free time. The ethos of empowerment had been imbibed.

As we earnestly strive to empower our students, these two features of the yeshiva that promoted an ethos of empowerment – the adversarial spirit and the ḥaburah – should be considered, mutatis mutandis, by teachers today.

References

בארי (קולדנר), ישראל הלוי: ספר משנת ראשונים: … לפי סדר פסקי רבנו הרמב”ם…, ירושלים תש”י-תשכ”ו; ד”צ כרם ביבנה תשנ”ג, ג’ כרכים
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שטמפפר, שאול: הישיבה הליטאית בהתהוותה2, ירושלים תשס”ה

Rosenthal, Leah: ‘The Dangers of the Beit Midrash’, The Pardes Reader: Celebrating 25 Years of Learning, Jerusalem 1997, pp.77-83
Zborowski, Mark: ‘The Place of Book-Learning in Traditional Jewish Culture’, Margaret Mead & Martha Wolfenstein (editors), Childhood in Contemporary Cultures, Chicago 1955, pp. 118-141

Bio
Levi Cooper is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah and teaches Jewish studies at the Pardes Institute and other university level programs in Israel. Rabbi Dr. Cooper is Contributing Editor to Jewish Educational Leadership.

Pullouts

The absence of the teacher created a safer space for students to explore ideas without the anxiety of being assessed by teachers, who were key players in the future plans of students.

Thus, the peer-teaching ḥaburah was aimed at empowering students, rather than imparting knowledge.

[i] For earlier descriptions of this adversarial atmosphere of communal study, see Breuer 2003, ch 5.

[ii] Munk 1975: 147. Unless otherwise stated, translated presented herein are my own. Place names are given according to their widespread English spelling, with variants offered in the footnotes. Telz, Telsze, Тельшяй, today Telšiai in Lithuania.

[iii] B. Kiddushin 30b; the passage continues, stating that ‘they do not move from there before they become beloved to each other’. On the relationship between disputation and interpersonal relationships, see the sources cited in Ben-Menahem et al 1991 I:138-146.

[iv] B. Bava Metzia 59b.

[v] Cinowitz 1972: 268:

בשעת השיעורים היו ראשי-הישיבה יושבים בראש שולחן ארוך מאד, שמסביבו היו יושבים ועומדים כמעט כל התלמידים, ותכופות היו התלמידים נכנסים לתוך דברי רבותיהם בקושיות ופלפולים

Volozhin, Wołożyn, Воложин, today Валожын in Belarus.

[vi] Levin-Epstein 1932:29:

ראשי הישיבה היו “אומרים את שעוריהם” מן השעה השתים-עשרה עד השעה השניה אחר חצות היום. הם היו יושבים בראש שלחן ארוך מאד ועל סביבם היו יושבים ועומדים כמעט כל התלמידים. התלמידים היו נכנסים תכופות לתוך דברי רבותיהם בקושיות ובפלפולים, כדי להוכיח את חריפותם

[vii] Shurin 1964:49-53; Rabiner 1968: 59-62; Kol 1970: 40.

[viii] Shkop Festschrift 1936: 42. In a 1955 article, Mark Zborowski offered this vignette in English from “an eye witness” (Zborowski 1955: 128). The translation here is my own.

[ix] The phrase “silence is admission”, or its Latin equivalent argumentum e silentio, refers to a legal principle whereby someone who is silent in the face of a claim against him, is considered to have admitted to the veracity of the claim. The principle appears in the Talmud (see B. Yevamot 37b). In Israeli law (and other legal systems), there is a parallel principle in civil law, though not in criminal law (see Regulations of Civil Procedure 1984, section 83).

[x] Zevin 1952: 279 (emphasis in original):

בהערצה יוצאת מן הכלל היו מתייחסים התלמידים לרבם ר’ ברוך-דוב. שלא כדרך הישיבות הגדולות, שהתלמידים נוהגים להפסיק את ריש-המתיבתא באמצע השעור ו”לפרוך” את דבריו במשא ומתן של הלכה, בישיבת ר’ ברוך-דוב לא היו מקשים ולא שואלים באמצע השעור, אלא מקשיבים רב קשב ברטט וברתת. ואחרי השעור היו שואלים ודנים ומתווכחים

Kamenets, Kamieniec, Ка́менец, today Камяне́ц in Belarus.

[xi] Be’eri 1950: introduction; Zevin 1952: 280. While R. Be’eri did not mention the student’s name, he noted that he had previously studied under Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman (1874-1941) in the yeshiva in Baranowicze. When R. Zevin recounted the story, he excised this detail, probably out of respect for R. Wasserman.

[xii] The term used here by R. Be’eri is צורב taken from the Talmudic term for a young rabbinic scholar, צורבא מרבנן, and reflects a burning (צר”ב) attitude and excitement.

[xiii] To cite an example from an earlier period: in the responsa of Rabbi Yaakov Emden (1697-1776), he critiqued the argumentative attitude of students (Emden 1739-59, II:72) by saying:

…אקוה הפעם יספיקו דברי אלה בענין הזה … רק בבקשה ממך אהו’ כנפשי, לא תתחזק עוד להעמיד דבריך, כי היא מדת הבחורים זה עם זה, ולא נאה לזקן כמוני לעסוק בכאלה

Similarly (ibid, 119):

אקוה שתודה על האמת כמדת חכם שאין מגמתו אלא לברר המקח, אך לא לטרוח בפלפולים כדרך בחורים בישיבות, שאין כוונתם אלא לקפח

[xiv] Above, note 2, pp. 147-148. Though one might wonder regarding R. Munk whether he “doth protest too much” (Shakespeare, Hamlet III:2)

[xv] R. Munk suggests peer-review and peer-pressure as a check in futile argumentativeness. The effectiveness of this control is beyond the scope of the present discussion. One must wonder whether it could have worked given that they students apparently did not listen to each other and were intent on vociferously striving to demonstrate their own Talmudic dexterity.

[xvi] Shkop Festschrift 1936: 74. Rabbi Yitzhak Kosovsky later served in the rabbinate in Johannesburg, South Africa. The Yeshiva College of South Africa, also called Yeshivat Beit Yitzchak, is named after R. Kosovsky, after being co-founded by his son, Rabbi Michel Kosovsky in 1953 (see www.yeshivacollege.co.za).

[xvii] Traditionally, kohanim are considered to be hot-blooded, zealous and easily angered (see, for instance, B. Bava Batra 160b).

[xviii] This phrase is taken from Jethro’s advice to his son-in-law Moses to set up a hierarchical court system whereby only the most difficult cases would be brought to him: אֶת הַדָּבָר הַקָּשֶׁה יְבִיאוּן אֶל מֹשֶׁה (Exodus 18:26). R. Kosovsky is therefore comparing R. Shkop to Moses.

[xix] As in Ecclesiastes 9:17: דִּבְרֵי חֲכָמִים בְּנַחַת נִשְׁמָעִים מִזַּעֲקַת מוֹשֵׁל בַּכְּסִילִים.

[xx] As Leah Rosenthal eloquently pointed out: “The classic Talmudic way of ‘attacking’ your ḥavruta’s position – pointing out the faultiness of his logic or his oversight of a contradictory source – isn’t this a potential ground for such ‘demons’ of human relationships to appear? Could not such total involvement in critical halakhic thinking breed problems in basic human communication?” (Rosenthal 1997: 81-82).

[xxi] Above note 11.

[xxii] See, for instance, Munk 1975: 147-148

[xxiii] See Breuer 2003: 234-235.

[xxiv] Maimonides, Laws of Torah Study, 5:1, 2, 5, 6; translation by Moses Hyamson, Jerusalem 1962.

[xxv] It is worth recalling that while a teacher is allowed to forgo honor, the student is nevertheless enjoined to continue according honor (ibid, section 11):

הרב המובהק שרצה למחול על כבודו בכל הדברים האלו או באחד מהן לכל תלמידיו או לאחד מהן הרשות בידו. ואף על פי שמחל, חייב התלמיד להדרו ואפילו בשעה שמחל

[xxvi] Stampfer 2005:118-119.

[xxvii] Breuer goes further declaring (Breuer 2003: 233):

הרצאה לפני קהל ‘שומעים’ לא יכירנה מקומה בפעילות היומיומית של הישיבה

Active learning was discussed in a previous issue of this journal; see: Jewish Educational Leaderhip, 7:3 (Summer 2009).

[xxviii] The term ḥavura has a long history. Originally in Temple times, the term denoted those who registered to share in a particular Passover sacrifice. In contemporary times, the term has been used for different associations. I use it here as it was used in the yeshiva. This use is similar, but not identical, to the ḥabura in the Hasidic community which is more socially oriented than the yeshiva ḥabura. This use should not be confused with the Ḥavurah of Whittier, California that began in 1960 and spawned a trend for autonomous communities that organised themselves outside the established Jewish institutions and denominations and called themselves Ḥavurot.

[xxix] I used the term ‘future plans’ to refer to continued enrolment in the yeshiva, job prospects and matchmaking offers.

[xxx] Karp 1938. In 1955, Mark Wischnitzer noted that few copies of this slim memorial volume exist and therefore he recorded a number of details for posterity, including these student led discussions (see Wischnitzer 1955: 741). The volume was reprinted in 2004.

[xxxi] Above, note 2.

[xxxii] Zlatkin 1954:62.

[xxxiii] Regarding walks and exercise in the Volozhin yeshiva, see Stampfer 2005:170-171.

[xxxiv] Zlatkin was aware that there were students in Volozhin who were not only dedicated to Torah study, but also interested in secular studies:

ורק התלמיד, המתעניין גם כן בלימודי חול ובקריאת ספרי השכלה ומצא לו חברים בדיעה, היה יוצא מעט מהאוירה החדגונית הוולוז’ינית. אבל זה רק לזמן קצר. כי רוב זמנו היה חייב לבלות בישיבה. ושם האוירה – כולה קודש, כולה – תורה