One thing that I've noticed over the past few days is that there is a definite trend among the Rabbis to define the grayness of human action. Throughout chapter 11, the Rabbis take the most ambiguous characters and label them as either evil or righteous. We can read Jill's post to see how the Rabbis make excuses for David in order to show how many of his actions were righteous (for example, they prove that David did not commit auditory). On the flip side, the Rabbis go to great length to prove that everything Balaam does is for evil (even though the plain meaning of the text does not suggest this).
There is little gray. The Rabbis have a system of reward and punishment and it seems that they will go to great lengths to keep this system intact. The system is simple, if you do something wrong you are punished (the debate really centers around whether it will happen in this world or the world to come).
For the most part I'm not bothered by this rabbinic theology. However, I found myself really questioning this methodology when it came to defining the character of Job. For those who don't know Job's story the premise is that Job is a righteous person who gets punished by God at the request of Satan. Job's friends then come over and "comfort" Job, telling him he must have done something to deserve his affliction. Job demands that he has done nothing wrong. In the end God appears but does not resolve the question of Job's guilt. Instead he says essentially, "I'm God, you're not!"
The thing I love about this book is that it is so "gray." We don't know if Job actually did deserve his affliction. We can't understand God's rationale. In fact, it serves as an almost anti-theology, leaving the reader scratching their head. That's why for generations of people have fought about the theological implications of this story. And it's for this reason that I had so much trouble digesting the Rabbinic interpretation of Job's character.
The rabbis explain that Job was a member of Pharoah's council. When he heard that Pharoah wanted to throw all the Jewish children into the sea, he remained silent. Because he failed to speak out for justice, he was punished and was afflicted with suffering. While I like the notion that those who can speak out against injustice and remain silent should be held accountable, I am troubled by the rabbi's decision to "take sides" in the Job narrative and claim that Job deserved his punishment.
Luckily, we live in a very different time. Although it's nice to have things in black and white, I encourage everyone to see and love the grayness in the book of Job and in all other biblical stories, for it is in this grayness that we might see ourselves in the narrative. Only here might the text be a mirror into our souls.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Happy Memorial Day (San 107a)
Today I learned all kinds of new, intimate details about the story of David and Bat Sheva. For instance, have you ever wondered why Bat Sheva would be bathing naked in public? Turns out it was all a test. Basically, David was jealous that God tested Abraham, Isaac and Jacob so he asked God to give him a test. So, God says okay. Satan turns up as a bird and David shoots an arrow at the bird and instead of hitting the bird, he hits the חלתא cone* that was concealing Bat Sheva (107a1). This could teach a number of things. For one we know that Bat Sheva was not asking for it, David on the other hand cannot say the same thing.
One more mystery solved: Have you ever wondered why David's actions weren't considered adultery considering Bat Sheva was still married to Uriah? Turns out it was "customary in David's times for soldiers going out to battle to give their wives conditional bills of divorce, so that if any soldier failed to return from battle, his wife would be divorced retroactively from the time he came home." Others say that some soldiers even gave unconditional bills of divorce and then remarried their wives when they got back from war (107a2 footnote 19). If Uriah dies before he returns home (which he does), Bat Sheva's divorce works retroactively so that David wasn't committing adultery when he had sex with her. Though I understand that this was intended to serve as a protection for the woman so that she wouldn't acquire the status of an agunah, I cannot help but be disgusted by the custom and the way it is used to justify David's action.
One more mystery solved: Have you ever wondered why David's actions weren't considered adultery considering Bat Sheva was still married to Uriah? Turns out it was "customary in David's times for soldiers going out to battle to give their wives conditional bills of divorce, so that if any soldier failed to return from battle, his wife would be divorced retroactively from the time he came home." Others say that some soldiers even gave unconditional bills of divorce and then remarried their wives when they got back from war (107a2 footnote 19). If Uriah dies before he returns home (which he does), Bat Sheva's divorce works retroactively so that David wasn't committing adultery when he had sex with her. Though I understand that this was intended to serve as a protection for the woman so that she wouldn't acquire the status of an agunah, I cannot help but be disgusted by the custom and the way it is used to justify David's action.
In the spirit of Memorial Day weekend, I wonder what our world would be like if we encouraged soldiers to sign conditional or unconditional bills of divorce to their wives, husbands or partners before heading out to battle. Though I am not for a second pretending to know what it is like to be a military spouse, my gut feeling is that I would feel completely uncomfortable, saddened and horrified if someone suggested that I should divorce my spouse in case he didn't return. With the deepest respect and gratitude for those serving our country and their families, I hope that this snippet of gemara serves to remind us how far we have come as a society in the way we treat military families. We have a long way to go, particularly in ensuring that homosexual couples in the military receive the same rights as heterosexual couples, and I hope we will continue to work to honor all of our soldiers and their families.
*cone is probably not the best translation. According to Jastrow, חלתא is a loose wicker-work used for making bee-hives, strainers, for wine presses, or screens. So screens probably makes more sense. Don't know who came up with the word cone.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Leading by Looking Ahead
Haftarh Beha’alotecha
Zechariah 2:14-4:7
Sorry for the break in posts. As you may have guessed from Marc and Jill, finals eat up a lot of our time. Hopefully this post will nourish you during Se’udah Shlishit.
This week’s parasha is interesting for a number of reasons. Most interesting, and perhaps best known, is chapter 12 of the book of Numbers, where Aaron and Miriam speak out against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married. Miriam is punished for this by contracting Tzaraat, a sort of white, scaly, psoriasis that symbolizes death. The Rabbis teach us that it is because of Miriam’s Lashon HaRa’, her evil speech, that she is punished.
Moses pleads for his sister’s health with the words “El, na, refah na, la!” These words translate to “Please, God, heal her!” Moses looks out for his sister, though she spoke ill of him. Moses follows through with his familial obligations to his sister and his brother and shows true leadership by placing aside the petty and focusing on the importance of his sister’s illness.
There is a lot to be learned here, and it is reiterated in this week’s Haftarah from Zechariah. In this Haftarah, Zechariah shares a vision of the High Priest reclaiming his birthright in the heavenly court, the Angel of Adonai in front of him and the Satan to his right.[1] Joshua, the High Priest, is cleaned up, given the markers of his office and certain ceremonial objects. He is then charged with leading the people so that if he and the priests do the right thing, there will be an ultimate peace, where everyone will be invited to “the shade of vines and fig trees.”[2]
The High Priest Joshua is pulled to follow in his family’s footsteps and lead the people. He has to put aside the dingy past of destruction and exile and put the crown on his head so that all the people can move on. The Temple is in the process of being rebuilt, there will be need for a High Priest. Joshua could have turned to the Angel of Adonai and asked why the people had to suffer so much. He could have asked why there was a need for an exile that destroyed the Temple that had been dedicated to God. He doesn’t, though. He accepts his position and moves on, in fact taking advice from the angel as to how the new Temple should be dedicated, with shouts of “Beautiful, Beautiful”[3]
Like Moses, Joshua puts aside what has happened to focus on moving forward. Moses prays for Miriam’s health and Joshua accepts the Ephod of Priesthood, not focusing on what came before or worrying about their own feelings in that moment. We don’t know what they are feeling. Perhaps Joshua is annoyed and worried he can’t do it. Perhaps Moses is annoyed with his sister and brother for their lack of consideration. We don’t know, because they move forward.
It is not clear that this parasha is advocating moving forward at any cost, but there is a message here about leadership and the importance of moving forward from a difficult situation. Leaders must choose when they are going to allow themselves to dwell on what has already happened as opposed to focusing on what is going to happen next. When will it be important to look back and reflect on the mistakes made? When will it be important enough to pause in order to turn back and see where we have come from?
Moses pauses at the end of his life on the precipice of the Promised Land to reflect on the journey and remind the people where they have come from. Only when he has done all he had to do does he reflect back and help the people to reflect. When it is called for and appropriate, Moses tries to use the peoples’ history to remind them of how to act and how not to act. Joshua knows that by remembering what has happened, but moving forward and not dwelling on it, there may finally be peace.
When looking forward, it is always important to look back from time to time, particularly as a leader.
[1] 3:1
[2] 3:10
[3] 4:7
Zechariah 2:14-4:7
Sorry for the break in posts. As you may have guessed from Marc and Jill, finals eat up a lot of our time. Hopefully this post will nourish you during Se’udah Shlishit.
This week’s parasha is interesting for a number of reasons. Most interesting, and perhaps best known, is chapter 12 of the book of Numbers, where Aaron and Miriam speak out against Moses because of the Cushite woman he had married. Miriam is punished for this by contracting Tzaraat, a sort of white, scaly, psoriasis that symbolizes death. The Rabbis teach us that it is because of Miriam’s Lashon HaRa’, her evil speech, that she is punished.
Moses pleads for his sister’s health with the words “El, na, refah na, la!” These words translate to “Please, God, heal her!” Moses looks out for his sister, though she spoke ill of him. Moses follows through with his familial obligations to his sister and his brother and shows true leadership by placing aside the petty and focusing on the importance of his sister’s illness.
There is a lot to be learned here, and it is reiterated in this week’s Haftarah from Zechariah. In this Haftarah, Zechariah shares a vision of the High Priest reclaiming his birthright in the heavenly court, the Angel of Adonai in front of him and the Satan to his right.[1] Joshua, the High Priest, is cleaned up, given the markers of his office and certain ceremonial objects. He is then charged with leading the people so that if he and the priests do the right thing, there will be an ultimate peace, where everyone will be invited to “the shade of vines and fig trees.”[2]
The High Priest Joshua is pulled to follow in his family’s footsteps and lead the people. He has to put aside the dingy past of destruction and exile and put the crown on his head so that all the people can move on. The Temple is in the process of being rebuilt, there will be need for a High Priest. Joshua could have turned to the Angel of Adonai and asked why the people had to suffer so much. He could have asked why there was a need for an exile that destroyed the Temple that had been dedicated to God. He doesn’t, though. He accepts his position and moves on, in fact taking advice from the angel as to how the new Temple should be dedicated, with shouts of “Beautiful, Beautiful”[3]
Like Moses, Joshua puts aside what has happened to focus on moving forward. Moses prays for Miriam’s health and Joshua accepts the Ephod of Priesthood, not focusing on what came before or worrying about their own feelings in that moment. We don’t know what they are feeling. Perhaps Joshua is annoyed and worried he can’t do it. Perhaps Moses is annoyed with his sister and brother for their lack of consideration. We don’t know, because they move forward.
It is not clear that this parasha is advocating moving forward at any cost, but there is a message here about leadership and the importance of moving forward from a difficult situation. Leaders must choose when they are going to allow themselves to dwell on what has already happened as opposed to focusing on what is going to happen next. When will it be important to look back and reflect on the mistakes made? When will it be important enough to pause in order to turn back and see where we have come from?
Moses pauses at the end of his life on the precipice of the Promised Land to reflect on the journey and remind the people where they have come from. Only when he has done all he had to do does he reflect back and help the people to reflect. When it is called for and appropriate, Moses tries to use the peoples’ history to remind them of how to act and how not to act. Joshua knows that by remembering what has happened, but moving forward and not dwelling on it, there may finally be peace.
When looking forward, it is always important to look back from time to time, particularly as a leader.
[1] 3:1
[2] 3:10
[3] 4:7
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Teach Your Children Well? (San 104a)
The rabbis seem to have this weird obsession with talking about their "organ/member" to deliver a message. Must be a guy thing.
On 103b4, the gemara asks about a matter of Yehoiakim and that which was found on him (hanimtza alav). We learn that R Yochanan and R Elazar dispute the matter:
One says that it means that he tattoed the name of a pagan deity on his male organ, and one says that it means he tattoed the Name of God on his male organ. (San 103b4)Yad Ramah suggests that this was done in the hope that his offspring would grow up as followers of paganism (103b4 footnote 40). This isn't the first time we have come across a man who makes a connection between outward signs of his male member to his future progeny. A few days ago we read:
Nevat saw fire issue from his member. He thought it meant that he would one day be king. However, it was not so. i.e. he misinterpreted the omen, for it was Yarovam who issued from him (his seed), who was indicated. (San 101b2-101b3)
As a woman I don't really know what to do with these passages. I am inclined to shake my head, laugh, and then think about what they can tell us about this particular obsession that seems to still exist today among the finest of the male gender. Our generation doesn't necessarily talk about outward signs like tattoos and fire omens to predict the future success of the male organ but I do think that most locker room conversations about size, etc derive from a psychological connection that the function of the male organ is in fact to produce children. Our generation has also taken this idea to a new level in another way. Today, our technology enables us to collect and distribute sperm donations and actually predict and control the genetic makeup of our children. I suppose it is comforting to know that these types of obsessions are rooted in our tradition. Or maybe not.
In today's daf we learn that a righteous son can earn merit for a wicked father; however a righteous father cannot earn merit for a wicked son. (104a2) It is important to acknowledge that this is all in discussion about wicked children/parents and that parents can in fact earn merit from a righteous son (Sefer Chasidim 1171 - 104a2 footnote 15).
Regardless, this passage, in perhaps a more appropriate manner than the previous two, reflects the fact that parents and future parents have a desire to mold the lives of their children in a positive manner. It also acknowledges that in the end, children grow up and develop into whoever they want to be. As a current educator and a one-day parent, I face a constant struggle between wanting to instill my core Jewish values into children I teach and also enabling them to carve their own individual path. One thing I have learned from this whole discussion is that sometimes we have to be reminded to stop obsessing over who we want our future children to be.
Resurrected From Finals (San ch 11)
Well, it's been awhile but I'm back. I got behind over finals and it has taken me some time to catch up. Now that I am, all I can say is: WOW, chapter eleven is out of this world, literally. The chapter deals with all kinds of CrAZy things like the world to come and the messianic era. The connection is that in a tractate dedicated to court proceedings, we should know a little something about what is going on in the heavenly courts.
My inspiration to get back on board probably came from the fear implanted in my brain upon reading that my share in the world to come is being forfeited every day based on my values, thoughts and actions. In the opening Mishnah in chapter eleven we learn that the following people forfeit their share in the world to come (San 90a6-90a7):
- One who says that there is no reference to the resurrection of the dead in the Torah
- One who says the Torah did not come from Heaven
- an Apikoros (one who disparages a Torah scholar)
- One who reads external books
- One who incants over a wound
- One who pronounces the Name of God accoding to its letters
Given these restrictions and some of the crazy examples the rabbis give to support them, my only saving grace at this point seems to be studying and teaching Torah, as we learn:
- "Whoever teaches Torah in this world merits to teach it in the World to Come" (92a1)
- "What can a person do to be spared the travail of the Messiah? One should occupy himself in the study of Torah and in acts of kindness" (San 98b1)
Studying this chapter has kind of put me in an unexpected faith crossroads. Just as I was beginning to feel comfortable with embracing modern Jewish thought and some of the theological principles of the reform movement, I am hit over the head with the idea that holding these beliefs might sacrifice my share in the world to come. Seems silly for a modern Jew to be concerned about this kind of thing, but then I ask, what if I'm wrong? If the only way to forfeit my share in the world to come is by rejecting certain principles of belief, why am I so insistent upon doing so? Am I going to be the rabbi who leads the congregation in saying m'chayei hakol during the Amidah but then secretly whisper under my breath m'chayei hameitim, just to be safe, because at the end of the day nobody really knows and isn't it better to secure my place in the world to come? Unlikely, but not impossible. It happened to R Abuhu so I suppose it could happen to me.
R Abahu used to deliver Torah lectures on the subject of the three kings listed in our Mishnah as not having any portion in the World to Come. It happened once that he fell ill. Assuming that he was being punished for lecturing about the sins of the three kings, he understood not to lecture on the subject ever again. Once he recovered, however, he resumed lecturing! (102a5-102b1)
My hope is that I don't end up like R Abahu who lets his personal well being dictate his actions. Needless to say I have no conclusion yet, other than to keep on keeping on with the learning and the acts of kindness and hope that I will figure out a way to reconcile my beliefs in a way that lend themselves to providing me and my liberal colleagues and friends a share in the world to come.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Four Sages Enter the Island
Although the previous week of Talmud has been unlike any that I have ever studied (Chapter 11 of Sanhedrin deals almost exclusively with questions of the Messiah, the afterlife, and heresy) I don't want to post about it tonight. Rather I want to point out something that came up in a recent class I attended at Congregation Beth Elohim called "The Theology of Lost."
For those who don't know about Lost, it's a 6 year television phenomenon that just came to an end on Sunday and had TONS of religious, ethical, and philosophic themes.
In tonights class, we discussed the Island as a kind of paradise. This got me thinking: if the Island was paradise then why all the blood, deception, and anger. Why not love?
According to tradition, paradise doesn't always mean perfection. Chagigah 14b is the perfect example of this:
In Lost we had characters who died quickly upon entering the Island, others who went crazy, and still others who turned evil (However one could debate how evil any single character actually is. This is the beauty of Lost). And like Akiba, we also had those who were fine.
I don't think the writers of Lost knew this text (although it would be pretty cool if they did). Nevertheless, Lost gives us a new cultural model to understand our Chagigah text, to see the flaws in humanity, and the struggles we all face in the presence of paradise.
Hadran Alayich Lost, I will return to you!
For those who don't know about Lost, it's a 6 year television phenomenon that just came to an end on Sunday and had TONS of religious, ethical, and philosophic themes.
In tonights class, we discussed the Island as a kind of paradise. This got me thinking: if the Island was paradise then why all the blood, deception, and anger. Why not love?
According to tradition, paradise doesn't always mean perfection. Chagigah 14b is the perfect example of this:
Our Rabbis taught: Four men entered the ‘Garden’, namely, Ben ‘Azzai and Ben Zoma, Aher (Elisha ben Abuya) and R. Akiba...Ben ‘Azzai cast a look and died...Ben Zoma looked and became demented... Aher mutilated the shoots (i.e. he became a heretic) and R. Akiba departed unhurt.Here, paradise probably means the study of esoteric, hidden mystical teachings. However, I think the metaphor is more powerful than what it stands for. Not everyone is built for paradise. Not everyone is ready for it.
In Lost we had characters who died quickly upon entering the Island, others who went crazy, and still others who turned evil (However one could debate how evil any single character actually is. This is the beauty of Lost). And like Akiba, we also had those who were fine.
I don't think the writers of Lost knew this text (although it would be pretty cool if they did). Nevertheless, Lost gives us a new cultural model to understand our Chagigah text, to see the flaws in humanity, and the struggles we all face in the presence of paradise.
Hadran Alayich Lost, I will return to you!
Friday, May 21, 2010
The Invention of Lying (San 97a)
Is a world without lying a world without religion?
According to the writers of the recent movie "The Invention of Lying" the answer is yes. The premise of the movie is simple. Ricky Gervais's character lives in a world where no one lies. One day he discovers that he has the ability to lie and begins taking advantage of everyone's gullibility. However, things begin to change for him when his mother is on her death bed. In this world, there is no religion because to proclaim a belief in God would be "untrue" as there could be no proof to God's existence. Seeing his mother so afraid of the nothingness of death, Gervais's character lies to her and invents a conception of God and heaven that she would find comforting.
Instantly, this idea spreads and everyone believes it. Remember, they can't suspect him of lying because the idea of lying doesn't exist. From this lie, religion is born.
I watched that movie two nights ago, and lo and behold yesterday's daf spoke about a similar issue. Here, Rav Tavus visits a town by the name of Kushta whose inhabitants would not [or could not?] tell a lie and because of this, no one in the town was punished with a premature death. Tavus married a women from this town and she bore him two children. One day he tells a neighbor a lie causing the deaths of his two children. After the townspeople hear about his actions they ask him to leave the city. In this account (unlike in "the Invention of Lying") they know what lies are and what dangers they bring and want to rid their city of them.
This is an interesting story because it seems a little out of character for what I know of Jewish law. In many instances we know lies are beneficial. Sifrei Numbers for example explains that God lied in Gen. 18 to protect Avram's feelings after Sarai questions his potency. This lie served the purpose of keeping peace in the house. Bava Metzia 23b says that a scholar can lie about having studied a tractate if he knows that answering in the affirmative will cause jealously in the person asking. Furthermore we learn in the same section that if I stay at someone's house for free, I am allowed to hide this from someone else so that they won't burden my host with requests for free housing.
So where does the line fall? Which lies are ok and which are not? Do we want a world like Kushta where any lie is grounds for banishment? Or do we want people like Ricky Gervais's character who will lie to put our mind at ease?
And most importantly, if you knew that religion was lie, would it still serve a purpose?
Click here for more Ricky Gervais on religion
According to the writers of the recent movie "The Invention of Lying" the answer is yes. The premise of the movie is simple. Ricky Gervais's character lives in a world where no one lies. One day he discovers that he has the ability to lie and begins taking advantage of everyone's gullibility. However, things begin to change for him when his mother is on her death bed. In this world, there is no religion because to proclaim a belief in God would be "untrue" as there could be no proof to God's existence. Seeing his mother so afraid of the nothingness of death, Gervais's character lies to her and invents a conception of God and heaven that she would find comforting.
Instantly, this idea spreads and everyone believes it. Remember, they can't suspect him of lying because the idea of lying doesn't exist. From this lie, religion is born.
I watched that movie two nights ago, and lo and behold yesterday's daf spoke about a similar issue. Here, Rav Tavus visits a town by the name of Kushta whose inhabitants would not [or could not?] tell a lie and because of this, no one in the town was punished with a premature death. Tavus married a women from this town and she bore him two children. One day he tells a neighbor a lie causing the deaths of his two children. After the townspeople hear about his actions they ask him to leave the city. In this account (unlike in "the Invention of Lying") they know what lies are and what dangers they bring and want to rid their city of them.
This is an interesting story because it seems a little out of character for what I know of Jewish law. In many instances we know lies are beneficial. Sifrei Numbers for example explains that God lied in Gen. 18 to protect Avram's feelings after Sarai questions his potency. This lie served the purpose of keeping peace in the house. Bava Metzia 23b says that a scholar can lie about having studied a tractate if he knows that answering in the affirmative will cause jealously in the person asking. Furthermore we learn in the same section that if I stay at someone's house for free, I am allowed to hide this from someone else so that they won't burden my host with requests for free housing.
So where does the line fall? Which lies are ok and which are not? Do we want a world like Kushta where any lie is grounds for banishment? Or do we want people like Ricky Gervais's character who will lie to put our mind at ease?
And most importantly, if you knew that religion was lie, would it still serve a purpose?
Click here for more Ricky Gervais on religion
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Dangers of Overpopulation (San 95b)
Here's an interesting scene from today's daf. The Talmud explains that as Sancheiriv marched his troops to besiege Jerusalem during the reign of King Hezekiah (see II Kings 19) an interesting thing happened to Israel's landscape. As it turns out there were so many troops with Sancheiriv that after the first wave swam across the Jordan river toward Jerusalem, they took with them so much water in their clothes and hair that the water table decreased. The second wave therefore could wade through this water. After this second wave passed a third wave approached the river. Because this second group too had drenched their clothes and hair the third group did not face any water in the Jordan. Rather they crossed through dust.
I've been thinking about this text since I read it. I know these people didn't mean to dry up the river but nevertheless their army was so large that they couldn't avoid it.
I would like to think that people today don't want to "dry up our rivers" (however this metaphor manifests itself). I would like to think that they want our forests to stay intact, that our endangered species will continue to live. However, like Sancheiriv's army, these things are unavoidable if we become too populous.
To read about the dangers of overpopulation, click here.
I've been thinking about this text since I read it. I know these people didn't mean to dry up the river but nevertheless their army was so large that they couldn't avoid it.
I would like to think that people today don't want to "dry up our rivers" (however this metaphor manifests itself). I would like to think that they want our forests to stay intact, that our endangered species will continue to live. However, like Sancheiriv's army, these things are unavoidable if we become too populous.
To read about the dangers of overpopulation, click here.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
A Great Lesson In Humility (San 88b)
Sorry I haven't written in while. I just finished finals.
Here is a very interesting teaching from this past week's regimen:
Learning to learn without taking credit is quite difficult as any student of any subject can attest and will remain a lifelong struggle for me. And the wonderful irony about it is the the more that I learn, the harder it will get.
Here is a very interesting teaching from this past week's regimen:
Who is one, who is designed for a share in the World to Come? One who is modest and humble, who enters bowing and leaves bowing, and who learns Torah constantly but does not take credit for himself.What I love about this text is it's ending. When I do daf yomi I sometimes think to myself about how much material I cover everyday (albeit, how much I remember is a different story). Therefore, in school a lot of what I learn comes up in discussions. I find that I walk a fine line between speaking about my learning because it applies to our discussion and will benefit others and doing it to show people what I know. It's something I've worked hard on correcting and have gotten better at it. Nevertheless, learning for its own sake is and will remain one of the key parts of my Jewish identify. And thankfully, it is a key part of the tradition as we can see from this text.
Learning to learn without taking credit is quite difficult as any student of any subject can attest and will remain a lifelong struggle for me. And the wonderful irony about it is the the more that I learn, the harder it will get.
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