Why?

[An address delivered at the Beth Hamidrash Hagadol synagogue in Leeds, England, March 6, 1954, during a Jewish Student Conference in that city. I was then twenty-two years old, but my views have not greatly changed.]

A short time ago, the chiefs of the B.B.C. [British Broadcasting Corporation] television service introduced a program chiefly remembered for the degree of failure which it achieved. They called it "Why?" One could not help feeling at the time what a pity it was that it failed, in view of the important word which had been chosen for its title: "Why." It is a word with which children pester harassed parents; a word which has covered the shelves of many a philosophical library; a word which has introduced some of the world's most moving questions. "Why have you dealt badly with this people? Why have you sent me on this mission?" asked Moses of his creator Exodus 5.22 On a less personal level, the Bible asks one of the most perplexing of all questions: "Why do the wicked prosper?"

But I would today propound another great "Why?" which touches us all, and the Jewish student especially. Why do we study the Jewish heritage? Why is so much energy expended to instill learning into our people? To past generations such a question may well have been meaningless. "A Jew must learn," they might say, "What greater shame than to be an am ha-arets [ignoramus.] But for our generation, which has a rooted dislike of answering questions by dismissing them, it is worth considering why Judaism has always set such a great store by its own learning and culture.

Judaism has always looked upon itself as an historical religion, a religion with deep roots in the past. Moses, in the words with which he departs from the stage of history, begs Israel to consider their past:

Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations; ask thy father and he will show thee, thine elders, and they will tell thee." Deuteronomy 32.7

From these words alone, it may be seen already that Judaism is a religion which appeals for its authority to past history; and without an understanding of its past, it is impossible to understand or appreciate its nature.

One may go further. Not only is our religion an historic religion, but our God is the God of history, who interests himself in human affairs. One of our most famous philosophers, Yehuda Hallevi, in beginning to speak of God in his book Kuzari introduces him as the God who brought us out of the land of Egypt. This comes as a shock to the reader who has read in the earlier chapters of the book of God as he is conceived by the philosophers, an abstract first cause, which by its very nature cannot know about so insignificant a creature as man, let alone guide his affairs. The religious, and especially the Jewish, idea of God is very different. One only has to compare the historic books of the Bible with chronicles of other nations to see how the Jewish idea of a personal God has permeated Jewish literature. It was the intention of the writers of books such as Samuel and Kings to place the events which happened to this little people of Israel in a cosmic setting; to show how God's influence was to be discerned in human doings; to show how, among nations, as among men, he approves the right and detests the wrong. We see how figures such as Elijah march through the pages of History, proclaiming the message of righteousness, and not hesitating to reprove kings and rulers. And not for Israel alone is God's concern:

Have not I brought up Israel out of the Land of Egypt? And the Philistines from Caphtor, and the Syrians from Kir? Amos 9.7

asks Amos in God's name.

These things one cannot get to know passively. One can pick up the practice of Judaism by watching others; one can observe the way in which Judaism expresses itself in day-to-day life. But in order to get behind all this, to acquire the knowledge that prevents the practice of Judaism from becoming a thing learned by rote, one must know the facts and the faith which inspire the practice, and infuse it with meaning. One must learn Jewish history and Jewish values; and for that a personal effort must be made, for the expanse of Jewish history is long in time and wide in significance, containing much the full meaning of which can only be appreciated with diligent study.

But Judaism has always seen in traditional learning rather more than a background to faith in the Jewish religion, and the Jewish nation. Torah study is almost paradoxically a religious exercise, which has in a mysterious way the ability to bring man nearer to his creator. The Talmud contains much which we would call civil law, having little apparent connexion with religion; yet the legalistic discussions found in the Talmud are held to have a most deep and significant religious value. There have indeed been movements within Judaism which have opposed this view. The Hasidim in particular took as their watchword the phrase "thou shalt cling to God." For them religion was the mystical practice of continually meditating on God, of cleaving to God by ever contemplating him; and they found that learning and studying were an interruption in their meditations.

Their leader the Baal Shem attempted to compromise, and sought ways to meditate even while learning; but his disciples understandably found the strain too great, and one of them recommends that when learning one should pause a little after each group of words in order to return to the meditations from which one has been distracted by the act of learning.

But our way is not that of the mystic. It is not given to us to feel the nearness and the glory of God as the old mystics did. We must be content with achieving our knowledge of God by studying that which is of God - the Torah. In these days, when the cinema and radio have made meditation on higher things a rarity, we should find in the the learning of religious knowledge a haven from the bustle of the workaday world. Jewish learning, when approached with love, somehow seeps into the character, and in a way which may be felt, but not fully understood, can help us to achieve that clinging to God which was the aim of the mystics.

Such is an outline of the dual purpose of Jewish learning. The first, to help us to appreciate our heritage, to give a basis for our faith, and to lend meaning to our practice. The second is true learning for its own sake, and as a religious obligation.

In the first sphere, the student has a tremendous opportunity in the weekend schools held by the Jewish student bodies. They deserve the support of all Jewish students who have a love for Jewish learning, and of the wider community who wish to encourage their younger members. The more modern thinkers must receive attention, together with the former leaders and thinkers of Judaism.

The second sphere of learning - the study of Bible, or Mishna, or whatever it may be, for its own sake is a more personal matter. The desire for it must spring from the heart, for it requires a sacrifice of time and energy not for a weekend, but, with God's help, for a lifetime.

It should be the desire of each individual to follow the advice given in the Ethics of the Fathers:

Appoint for yourself a teacher, and get for yourself a study-companion.

May God grant that we may acquire learning not that we may be called wise; or that we may achieve a name among our fellow men; but that by that means we may draw near to him who is the fount of all true knowledge.