או חברותא או מיתותא

I have not made a post in a ridiculously long time.  I have been pretty busy in graduate school.  Recently, for a paper I am writing, I tried explaining, in experiential terms, what a chevruta is.  I thought some of my chevrutot would appreciate it.

Judaism places special emphasis on the act of studying Torah and has special regard for the learning pair, known as a chevruta, which literally translates as partner or friend.

Said R. Hiyya b. Abba, Even father and son, master and disciple, who study Torah at the same gate become enemies of each other; yet they do not stir from there until they come to love each other. (Kiddushin, 30b)

Learning Torah is a struggle.  It is a struggle with the words of revelation, a struggle for truth, a struggle for a good life.  For sure, it is an internal struggle—the student (even a great scholar is considered a student in the Jewish tradition) experiences a deep inner turmoil—in which he constantly seeks transcendence through those words and always falls short.  But it is also an outward struggle with one’s fellow man.  He contends with his partner.  They cannot help but clash, be enemies—their subjectivities must come in conflict.  But, the pull of revelation, to transcend difference and to join in desire for the Most High quells the crashing of sword and shield and forms the basis of transcendent partnership in the search for meaning.  

Baseball Cards

This is not my usual fare, but I thought I would share it anyway. It's a true story. Notice that I labeled it under Mishlei.

As a child, I was baseball illiterate. I was actually illiterate in all sports, but baseball was by far the most important to know. I was simply perplexed when my friends would talk about "the game". I didn't know the teams and the rules were only vaguely familiar. My friends would bring in their baseball cards and talk about their rarity, value and the all important stats. Some time in the third grade I came to the conclusion that these cardboard homages to the baseball gods would be my ticket to social grace.

I told my father I wanted baseball cards. Ever resourceful, he called up his friend who had a son who sold baseball cards. Perfect. He bought me the whole set - Topps brand, every card, rookies and all (whatever that meant!). I studied them. I sorted them neatly into plastic holders and organized them in binders. I organized them alphabetically; I organized them by team; I probably even organized them by hair style. I looked at the backs of the cards over and over again and read the strange stats. I was still clueless. I hadn't the foggiest notion what those stats meant, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, they had done the trick. That somehow, by some kind of magic they had made their impact on me. Of course, the problem was, I still hadn't watched a game. Needless to say, I never was able to participate in the great conversation of the third grade.

Stick Figures

Before the "words" there was the "stick-figure".

By 11th grade I was in RS's gemara class. I had heard about his "stick-figures" from some of my friends who had already attended his Talmud class the year before. When we would discuss an issue in the Talmud he would diagram out the issue on the board in the form of "stick-figures". Lengthy discussions were had on how to represent seemingly simple halakhic acts in a form akin to a choreographer's notation system. The major difference was that we also had to represent the mental states involved in each action. Much time was spent getting them just right. What I did not realize at the time was that "stick-figuring" was a method of exploring and becoming aware of our "souls".

Later in the year he introduced us to Maimonides' Eight (Introductory) Chapters to Pirkei Avot. Maimonides' main focus was the "soul". However, it read more like biology and psychology than the "philosophy" I was accustomed to. (I came to realize that "psyche" with its Greek etymology is much closer in connotation to what Maimonides was discussing - especially considering the Aristotelian philosophical tradition to which his work belongs. However, "psyche" with its modern positivist connotations does not capture Maimonides' conception of the mind as transcendent from matter.)

At the core of the Chapters is Maimonides' treatment of the "diseases" of the soul. He compares the diseases of the soul with physical diseases:

"just as when people, unacquainted with the science of medicine, realize that they are sick, and consult a physician, who tells them what they must do...so those whose souls become ill should consult the wise, the physicians of the soul..."

RS clearly took this statement to heart.

The Steps to Logic

Recently, I had the opportunity to reflect on my intellectual development. Most of my readers (all 5 of you) know RS played a crucial role in that development. As many of you have had the privilege of studying with him, I thought you would find these reflections interesting. I hope they stimulate insight.

When I was in TASC, RS thought it was important that we study logic. He had a unique method of teaching it. He used a method he called the ‘steps’ or ‘words’. A verb would be chosen, either simple like ‘sit’ or ‘stand’, or more complex like ‘inspire’ or ‘think’. The first step was to give a quick definition so that we knew we were talking about the same thing. The next step was to think of an example. The trick was that it had to be a rich, meaningful example that felt powerful and right: ultimately, an exemplar. However, the exemplar could not be artificial. He would test and prod to make sure we really felt our examples and that they were coming from a real place. When we had our exemplar we would proceed to check our original quick definition. The main point was not to see if our definition was correct - it was, of course, important. The point was to give nuance and real meaning to our definitions - to move from talking-about to truly knowing and experiencing something. This, he explained, was the first logical act of the mind that the Aristotelians spoke of: simple apprehension. This was the first step to learning the art of logic.

These "steps" naturally led to a deeper understanding of many mitzvot and halakhot. For example, "sit", "stand", "inspire" and "think" obviously lead to a deeper understanding of the mitzvah of Tefillah and its halakhot.

Abraham's Tent

According to Jewish tradition, no teacher's challenge was greater than Abraham's. He belonged to a world completely steeped in idolatry. At God's command Abraham journeyed to Canaan and traveled through the land.

And the Lord appeared to Abram, and He said, "To your seed I will give this land," and there he built an altar to the Lord, Who had appeared to him.

At this point we would think Abram would settle down. Instead, he moves:

And he moved from there to the mountain, east of Beth el, and he pitched his tent; Beth el was to the west and Ai was to the east, and there he built an altar to the Lord, and he called in the name of the Lord.(Genesis 12:7-8)

The motivation for his move is unclear as well as his chosen settlement. Why does he pitch a tent? Why here? If his goal is to teach people about God why not settle in one of the cities? By this point in the narrative of Genesis the Torah's dislike for the city has become abundantly clear. These three examples should suffice:

1) Cain becomes a city-builder after being cast out from God's presence (4:17).
2) Of the three sons of Noah only the descendants of Ham (the cursed son) are described as building cities - Shem and Japheth's (the blessed sons) descendants do not.
3) one chapter back we read the ill-fated story of the builders of Babel (11:1-9).

The builders of Babel constructed a monument to man (11:4):

And they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make ourselves a name, lest we be scattered upon the face of the entire earth.'

In contrast, Abraham built an altar - a structure designed to evoke both man's subservience and his yearning to ascend - and called out in the name of the Lord.

Abraham came to Canaan to shake up the constructed order of the city. The city is all artifice (the builders of Babel even chose to make bricks - artificial to the core), it is designed to protect man from his anxieties about the natural world. He pitched a tent where he would encounter travelers who, at least for that moment, were not tied to their constructed universe. Between Beth el and Ai, Abraham pitched his tent, the most transient of shelters and in that place he called his fellow man to wonder and look beyond man's world. This is the ideal teacher.

The Davidic Covenant, Part III

After instructing Natan to tell David he will not build "a house for My dwelling", Natan is told to inform David that the tables have been turned: the Lord will build a bayit for David. Of course, we know God does not mean bayit in the sense of a structural house, but a dynasty ('house' has the same double sense in English as well). David is to be assured that his lot is different from the charismatic leaders of Israel's past - who would rise up to save the people from trouble and then pass without an heir to continue their legacy. The House of David would continue on. The first to inherit the throne would build the bayit l'shmi, "a house for My Name". God made a name and a house for David and David's son will make a house for God's Name.

As for David's son, God assures David that he will benefit from a special providence from Him. This providential relationship is expressed through a father-son metaphor. God will be like a father to him and David's son will be like a son to Him. Specifically, in so far as if he becomes corrupt God will chastise him with the 'rod of men' and the afflictions of humans. And, even if he does become corrupt God's chesed - literally: kindness, often used to refer to a b'rit, covenant in 1 & 2 Samuel - would not depart from his line - meaning, David's dynasty would continue uninterrupted in perpetuity.

As for the "son" metaphor I think the sense is clear from Psalms (2):

5. Then He speaks to them in His wrath; and He frightens them with His sore displeasure.
6. "But I have enthroned My king on Zion, My holy mount."
7. I will tell of the decree; The Lord said to me, "You are My son; this day have I begotten you.
8. Request of Me, and I will make nations your inheritance, and the ends of the earth your possession.
9. You shall break them with an iron rod; like a potter's vessel you shall shatter them."

Commenting on "You are My son", Rashi writes:

You are My son, the head of Israel, who are called in the Torah (Exodus, 4:22), "My firstborn son", and they will endure through you, as is stated concerning Abner (I2 Sam. 3:18): “for God said, etc., ‘By the hand of My servant David shall I save My people Israel.’”, and for their sake, you are before Me as a son, because they are all dependent upon you.

Rashi sounds somewhat convoluted at first. The more obvious interpretation is that the king is called a son because he shares a special providential relationship with God. However, Rashi is reminding us that this simple interpretation would be ignoring God's relationship with all of His people and the true origin of the "son" metaphor. Israel emerged out of a society that deified their king and viewed him as either a son or an incarnation of a god. God tells Moshe (in Exodus, 4:22) that in response to Pharaoh hardening his heart he is to tell him, "My firstborn son is Israel." Though, in a sense, all of humanity and all nations are God's "children" in regards to His providence - Israel is the firstborn - the one God has chosen to impart His inheritance and show special favor. Rashi is saying that the king's status as "son" must be viewed within this context. The king is only a "son" for the sake of the people.

In summary, to understand the "son" metaphor we must take note of the following: a son shares a privileged status: favor, when the son is virtuous (as in Psalms 2 and Exodus 4); chastisement, when he is corrupt (as in 2 Samuel 7); and even the corrupt son does not lose his father's chesed - meaning, the relationship (in 2 Samuel, the Davidic covenant) will never be absolutely severed.

The Davidic Covenant, Part II

Once the Lord had given David rest from all his enemies it David shared his observation with Natan that it was improper that he, David, should be dwelling in a house of cedar while the Ark of God resided behind curtains. Natan concurred and gave David carte blanche to do what was in his heart. However, that night the Lord told Natan otherwise:

5. "Go and say to My servant, to David; so says the Lord: 'Shall you build Me a house for My dwelling? 6. For I have not dwelt in a house from the day that I brought up the children of Israel out of Egypt, to this day, but have walked in a tent and in a tabernacle. 7. In all [the places] wherein I have walked with all the children of Israel, did I speak a word with any of the rulers of Israel whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying: 'Why do you not build for me a house of cedar?'

The key word here is house (bayit). This "house" seems to stand at odds with the pastorally depicted past of the children of Israel. Permanence is contrasted with transience. The problem seems to be not particular to David but with the very concept of a "house for My dwelling". As David's son proclaims on the day he brought the ark into the Holy of Holies (1 Kings, 8:27):

"But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You; much less this temple (bayit) that I have erected."