Rabbi Jeffrey Schrager is the Middle School Judaic Studies Coordinator for the Akiba Academy of Dallas, Texas.

Jeffrey Schrager explores cognitive theory, how it explains our experiences with text, and how we can employ it in developing an approach to teaching Tanakh.

As we journey forward into the twenty first century, we confront new technologies and strategies to help our students learn. In so doing, we must also be mindful of the fact that our students are human and experience the world through the same mechanisms by which their mothers and grandfathers perceived events and clung to their Jewish roots. Whether via ritual, conversation or text, our cognitive functions mirror those of our ancestors. The greatest difference in this realm is that we better understand the functions at play as we strive to make meaning of our lives and the cosmos.

The Cognitive Revolution began more than fifty years ago, but the last two decades have witnessed a second stage in that revolution with the rise of functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) technology that allows scientists access to precise brain activity. In tandem with the scientific community, an emergent interdisciplinary approach to literary studies strives to understand how we cognitively approach literature. Cognitive literary studies and the cognitive humanities in general have grown significantly over the last several years resulting in our increased understanding of the mental systems at work as we encounter culture.

Cognitive revelations should impact the way we teach and learn in a wide variety of ways, but in this article I will be limiting myself to the teaching of Tanakh in particular. To be more precise, I will investigate how cognitive literary studies can inform our teaching of the narrative sections of Tanakh. In the future, I hope to discuss the application of cognitive literary criticism to Tanakh, but as the subject at hand is education, my goals are to familiarize the reader with some fundamental concepts in cognitive literary studies and explore how we might apply this research in our schools and classrooms. But before moving to a discussion of educational imperatives, we must define some vocabulary. I also must stress, perhaps superfluously, that my goal in applying cognitive studies to the learning of Tanakh, and in learning Tanakh as a whole, is quite simply to find an even greater connection to the Word of God.

Embodied simulation

What happens when we hear a story? We encounter hundreds of stories each day, but how do we transform individual sounds reaching our eardrums, or letters on paper into meaningfully arranged concepts? Over the years, many models have been postulated to explain our meaning-making apparatus, but recently cognitive scientists, with the help of fMRI measurements of brain activity, arrived at a theory widely accepted in the scientific community: the embodied simulation hypothesis (Bergen, 2012).

Embodied simulation explains that when we encounter an idea, our brains simulate the action or concept being described as if we were experiencing it ourselves. Not only do we see the image, but we also mentally simulate its associated facts and conditions. We perform thousands of these simulations every day, mostly subconsciously. Any information we encounter undergoes the simulation process, allowing us to experience ideas, sensations and feelings external to our own direct experience. We accomplish this remarkable and uniquely human feat through the activation of so-called mirror neurons. When we witness another person performing a specific action, mirror neurons cause our brains to physically “light up” in the same areas of our brain, albeit with less intensity than if we ourselves were acting directly (Iacoboni, 2009). If we combine mirror neuron research with discoveries concerning neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to physically change in response to neural circuitry used most frequently, we come to understand that the more simulation we engage in, the stronger our neural “muscles.”

These same neural processes bear responsibility for our entire capacity to connect with others. When we share an experience, we conduct a simulation of their experience, allowing us not only to relate to them but to identify with them on a deeply personal level. We connect to others, “by means of a shared functional state realized in two different bodies obeying to the same functional rules, the ‘objectual other’ becomes ‘another self’” (Gallese, 2009). This response occurs not only in face-to-face encounters, but presents itself when consuming literature or, indeed, any story. Through this process we learn to empathize with others, whether or not they actually exist. In fact, scientists have demonstrated that people scoring highly on tests of empathy have particularly active mirror neurons (Keen, October 2006). It seems that under certain conditions we learn to empathize with humans in the real world as well and according to some, but admittedly not all, studies show an increase in altruism and volunteerism (Keen, 2007).

Theory of mind

Perhaps the largest area of exploration in cognitive cultural studies relates to Theory of Mind (ToM), called by some our power of mindreading. ToM describes the uniquely human ability to interpret another human’s thoughts and, most importantly, intentions. We constantly, if unconsciously, engage in trying to understand why another person acts as they do. Using our mirror neurons, we run simulations of others’ experiences, in essence cognitively experiencing their mental state as our own. Several cognitive literary theorists attribute our love of story to our identity as “greedy mind readers” (Zunshine, 2012). We love how stories exercise our ToM, constantly forcing us to evaluate a character’s motivations and the intentions of those around any particular character.

It is critical to understand that our students hunger to flex their Theory of Mind “muscles” as much or more than adults. We have an opportunity to satisfy this craving with the foundational text of the Jewish People, and in so doing embed a deep and passionate love of learning Torah in our students.

ToM theorists discuss “levels of intentionality,” or the number of minds we keep track of in any given situation, and suggest that levels of increased metacognitive complexity satisfy our ToM’s hunger for greater challenges. If a student asks to get a drink, I think (one level) that they think (two) that they are thirsty (Zunshine, 2012). Obviously, I could be wrong and they really wish to go for a walk or get out of a boring class (a possibility I hate to consider). We can generally keep track of intentions up to three levels, but most people struggle when encountering four or more levels. As a test, try to envision (1) what a student in a havruta (2) thinks her partner is thinking (3) another class-member is thinking (4). Most people begin to struggle with the addition of the last level of intentionality. Despite the difficulties, our brains appreciate having the challenge presented by four or more levels of intentionality occasionally, and we often turn to stories to gratify this craving (Zunshine, 2006).

Among the many benefits of utilizing our ToM, increased exposure to tasks such as reading literary fiction and, I would argue, Tanakh can certainly fit under this rubric, strengthens our ToM overall. The importance of a strong ToM cannot be overstated. In addition to the socio-cognitive advantages, ToM helps in our ability to analyze all information, encouraging us to understand complexity and differing points of view (Zunshine, 2013).

Transportation

We have all read a book, watched a movie, or listened to a story and become so engrossed that we lose touch with reality. Cognitive researchers call this phenomenon transportation, typified by all ourmental systems becoming focused on events occurring in a given narrative (Gerrig, 1993). On a cognitive level, our brains “live” every story we hear to some extent, but transportation entails the falling away of our real world awareness, allowing us to encounter the intense emotions experienced by characters without enduring real world loss or consequences. Through our mirror neurons and their embodied simulation, our Theory of Mind goes for an extended “walk” in another’s shoes, virtually monopolizing our mental functioning (Holland, 2009).

One interesting side effect of transportation is that the implicit argument presented in the narrative wields a greater power of persuasion. Studies have consistently shown that high rates of transportation directly correlate with a subject conforming to the beliefs of the story they consume (Green, 2000). The beliefs in question were not limited to trivialities, but penetrated a subject’s core ethical beliefs. These findings are consistent with the thought of Jerome Bruner, a pioneer in the psychology of narrative, who writes about our search not necessarily for objective truth in life but for verisimilitude, or lifelikeness (Bruner, 1986, p. 11). When transportation occurs, a story becomes part of our experience and transforms the way we view the world.

At its core, Jewish education should be an argument, though a complex and non-hostile one. If we only teach our students what Judaism is or does, a trend I observe far too often, students will rarely appreciate the heritage that is theirs. Every lesson should include the underlying goal of transmitting the whys of Judaism: Why it is so crucial and extraordinary to be part of the greatest story ever told? When we understand narrative in general, and biblical narrative in particular, as a means to convey what I will call the argument for Judaism, we also understand the importance of transportation in reaching our students. To be sure, history is littered with tyrants who abuse the power of narrative persuasion, and we must be vigilant to avoid joining their ranks.

Cognitive literary studies and teaching Tanakh

Having explained some of the vocabulary underlying the cognitive processes at work when we encounter literature, we can move forward to a discussion of how insights in cognition can inform our teaching. While we cannot hope to enumerate each benefit, we may begin the conversation hoping to frame future discussions and practices.

I find it helpful to roughly divide the types of texts and discussions used into what and why categories. During a “what” discussion, we examine the circumstances characters find themselves in, and how exactly they behave in those circumstances. Never should we forget the importance of plot points, including small details. The plot serves as a schema through which we make meaning from a text, and any blurring or sacrificing of detail in the name of “the big picture” by definition deprives a story of its richness, and can lead to misunderstandings of varying degrees.

Cognitively, “what” conversations carry critical import as they directly contribute to our simulations of events and people. The more vividly a student visualizes a scene, the more likely they will be transported to that scene, one of the main goals of any narrative. Often, the teacher must fill gaps in the story thereby helping students simulate the scene. When David approaches the battle with Goliath (II Sam. 17), details like his aloneness, his approach to the wadi to gather stones, and the noises that would have surrounded him, while not explicitly discussed in the text, contribute to the power of the story as a whole. Every story, regardless of source, requires the reader to fill gaps in the narrative (Perry, 1986). As a guide, I would again use our what and why terminology. Never should we fill gaps in why and present them as the absolute truth. When dealing with the what of a story, however, we can clarify the text’s images for students, urging them to simulate its events.

I should note the importance of giving students enough time to process and thus fully simulate the scene for themselves. Every teacher struggles with striking a balance between depth and breadth in their curricula, and we often feel pressed for time, rushing our students through material. But one of the important insights we can gain from cognitive studies is the value of the relatively short amount of time an embodied simulation takes. Often, simply asking one student to paint the picture for the class enhances every student’s simulation without carving a significant portion of time from a class period. Without their mirror neurons firing, however, we can hope for little gain from the remainder of our time.

Once we establish the scene, our students begin to explore the intentions and motivations of characters using their Theory of Mind. Students may struggle, particularly at first, to attribute states of mind to characters, especially given the paucity of information presented by the text with regards to a character’s inner state. To add to their difficulty, our students have rarely faced the trials or victories of our ancestors, and simply cannot imagine how winning a battle feels. Here we must help students draw analogies to their own lives and experiences using sports, peer relationships, or whatever else the situation calls for. Our school has even introduced “Navi Episodes” in which students are presented with real world scenarios that occur in their lives and must identify a situation in Tanakh usable as an example of how to respond to the situation. These “Navi word problems” help students connect the text to situations in their lives, helping them view the stories we learn as a text that can guide their ultimate actions.

For many students, the impossibility of arriving at a definitive answer when it comes to identifying a character’s intent constitutes their greatest struggle. Absent explicit explanation in the text, we must base our theories on characters’ previous actions and character traits, an analytical skill many students lack. This uncertainty unsettles many students and more than a few teachers, but it invites our students into the world of Torah commentary. Students must justify their hypotheses, while also respecting others’ positions when they are equally justified. This emphasis on diversity of perspectives and multitude of possibilities embedded within any given text pushes students to fully utilize their ToM. Of course, just because a possibility is possible does not make it right. We often misread others’ minds in our daily social discourse, and the same holds true for stories. But our inevitable failures do not discourage our ToM, nor should they dishearten us.

Whenever possible, students should also be encouraged to explore deeper levels of intentionality. As one example let us examine II Samuel 13:23-27. When Avshalom invites his father David to his sheep shearing festival, David demurs, not wanting to trouble Avshalom with the burdens of entertaining the King. Avshalom then requests that David send the heir presumptive, Amnon, whom Avshalom despises for raping his sister Tamar. David inquires why Avshalom would want Amnon in attendance, but ultimately concedes, sending Amnon to the party and ultimately to his death by assassination. This short but intention rich section begs us to answer not only why each character behaves the way they do, but also what each character is thinking about the other’s intentions. Does Avshalom asking to invite Amnon cause David to suspect Avshalom only invited him with the intention that David would send Amnon in his stead? Does Avshalom know that David will suspect this and come prepared with an argument to allay his concerns? We could probably avoid these questions and jump from one action packed scene to the next, but we would deprive our ToM from a direct and enriching confrontation with the biblical text.

When choosing which commentaries to learn, we may also apply a cognitive based division. Commentaries that discuss characters’ intentions can be particularly valuable, and utilized for their illumination of the text. Some commentators focus on descriptions of what happened during a story while others focus on characters’ states of mind. For both ourselves and our students, what I would term ToM commentaries add additional cognitive complexity as we can begin to question why a commentator would draw a given conclusion when confronting a text, thus further exercising our own ToM. Such a focus need not be overly laborious for students. Remember, we all naturally experiment with ToM and when we as educators aide students in their quest for understanding we can streamline the process, helping them maximize the benefit gained from the narrative.

Research is just beginning to emerge endeavoring to identify the most important factors in determining the level of transportation any individual can achieve. As it stands currently, the three most important factors for a story to transport its consumer are identifiable characters, imaginable plot, and verisimilitude (Van Laer, 2014). As educators, we can choose to encourage our students’ transportation by focusing energy on these factors, in part through methods outlined previously.

We should keep in mind at least two caveats when implementing a more cognitively informed course of Tanakh study. First, not every opinion of a character’s motivations can be judged correct. Teachers must correct faulty theories and highlight flawed premises. Additionally, though beyond the scope of this initial presentation, I am sensitive to the conflict an increased cognitive approach may present to traditional text interpretation, though, as I have intimated, I sense many commentators intuitively adopted a cognitive-like approach to the text. These questions should be addressed in the future, but I remain confident any contradictions can be resolved.

The Talmud tells us that the Torah speaks “in the language of man” (TB Kiddushin 17b), that is, Torah is presented in a way man can understand it. Using tools developed by cognitive cultural theorists and researchers, we have an opportunity to harvest additional meaning from text in a decidedly human way. Any single method of textual examination is ultimately doomed to failure in the face of the absolute profundity of the Torah. Through a variety of methods we may, if we find favor in His eyes, come to know His mind, as it were, just a little more intimately.

References

Bergen, B. K. (2012). Louder than words. New York: Basic Books.

Bruner, J. (1986). Actual minds, possible worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Gallese, V. (2009). Mirror neurons, embodied simulation and the neural basis of social identification. Psychoanalytic Dialogues, 19 , 519-536.

Gerrig, R. J. (1993). Experiencing narrative worlds. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Green, M. C. (2000). The role of transportation in the persuasiveness of public narratives. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology (79) 5 , 701-721.

Holland, N. N. (2009). Literature and the brain. Gainseville, FL: The PsyArt Foundation. Iacoboni, M. (2009). Mirroring people. New York: Picador.

Keen, S. (October 2006). A theory of narrative empathy. Narrative,(14) 3 , 207-236. Keen, S. (2007). Empathy and the novel. New York: Oxford University Press.

Perry, M. a. (1986). The king through ironic eyes: Biblical narrative and the literary reading process. Poetics Today, (7) 2 , 275-322.

Van Laer, T. K. (2014). The extended transportation-imagery model: a meta-analysis of the antecedents and consequences of consumers’ narrative transportation. Journal of Consumer Research, 40, 797-817.

Zunshine, L. (2012). Getting inside your head: What cognitive science can tell us about popular culture. Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press.

Zunshine, L. (2013, December 13). Why fiction does it better. The Chronicle Review , pp. B4-B5.

Zunshine, L. (2006). Why we read fiction. Columbus, OH: The Ohio State University Press.