Part 1
By Rav Yehuda Amital
Torah study is the central focus of life at yeshiva. Despite this - or because of it - its pursuit raises many questions among the students. We believe that "God's covenant was sealed by means of the Oral Law" (Tanchuma Bereishit 58); nevertheless, no small number of students ask openly (together with others who sense the problem but keep it to themselves, or repress it): "There are so many serious problems in the world - problems of faith, of morality, of human suffering, the fate of Am Yisrael; can we really devote our whole day to the questions such as whether the principle of 'ha-peh she-asar' ("the mouth which prohibits is the mouth which permits") falls under the category of 'migo' (a halakhic principle of deduction) or whether it represents a special law of its own?" There are those who seek answers to such questions. They read books, listen intently to talks by the rabbis and roshei yeshiva, and look for answers. Sometimes, during moments of frankness, a person finds himself reaching the conclusion that the subjects being studied at yeshiva no longer "speak to him," or "go over his head." Such a situation creates frustration and pangs of conscience. I would like to say a few words on this topic. There is a well-known saying of the Ba'al Shem Tov regarding the verse (Tehillim 118), "Open for me the gates of righteousness, I shall enter them, I shall praise God. This is the gateway to God; the righteous shall enter it." The tzaddikim (righteous people) have the feeling that they are standing before locked gates, and they pray, "Open for me the gates of righteousness." The answer to them is, "This is the gateway to God; the righteous shall enter it" - in other words, this feeling, that you are standing outside the gates (and yearning to enter), is itself the gateway to God. It is natural to have doubts. Anyone who never has such doubts or such questions is either living on empty slogans or is the product of an education in which there are no questions and no thought. I was once talking to a Chabad chassid, one of the Rebbe's emissaries, and I asked him a question. He answered, "Why are you asking me? Does the bullet that is fired from a gun think for itself? It's the same with me. I was sent on a certain mission. There is someone else who does the thinking for me." Indeed, for the person who knows how and wants to ask, only questioning will bring him to the correct path. He has to try to understand and to bring himself close to the Torah by means of those very doubts. If I were R. Levi-Yitzhak of Berditchev, I would say, "Master of the Universe: Rabbi Akiva Eiger and the Vilna Ga'on loved the Torah to the depths of their being, but what is surprising about that? Look, here there are dozens of people in their 20's who have no answer as to what is so special about an 'ox which gores a cow' and who nevertheless spend much time and effort studying these topics!" R. Zerahia Halevi, the Ba'al HaMa'or, who wrote his commentary on the Rif at the young age of 19, was unique. R. Shlomo HaKohen of Vilna started his book of responsa, Reishit Bikkurim, with a collection of glosses which he wrote on the work of the great sage of the generation, the Misheknot Ya'akov, in which he asks the latter's forgiveness for the temerity of what he wrote at the age of 18. He was also one of a kind. These were unique personalities of their generation. What then can we say of ourselves? Can we really provide answers to such serious questions using the tools we've accumulated in twenty years? Let me add that R. Haim Vital once asked his teacher, the holy Ari: "How can you say that my spiritual state is elevated? The lowliest person from one of the earlier generations would have been such a righteous person that I could never even reach his ankles!" The Ari answered him: "Know that spiritual greatness as pertaining to a person's deeds is measured only according to his epoch and his generation. A very small deed that is performed in a generation such as this is comparable to many great mitzvot performed in earlier generations. In our times the kelipa ("shell," a kabbalistic term referring to the materialistic, worldly covering which hides the spark of holiness) is immeasurably strong, and this was not the case in previous generations." "According to his epoch and his generation." The holy Ari emphasized that everything is measured according to the era in which it takes place. And if in our times there are young people who invest all their energies in Torah study even though they don't have all the answers, that in itself is a great phenomenon! R. Nachman of Breslov taught us a great truth. The Jerusalem Talmud, at the beginning of Massekhet Ta'anit (1:1, page 64a) states: "Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: If someone should ask you 'Where is your God?', say to him 'In the great town in Rome.'" "In the great town in Rome" - no more, no less. Rabbi Nachman of Breslov explained: Sometimes a person declines spiritually to the point where he is able only to ask, "Where is God?" He can no longer find Him. Our sages are teaching this person, "Do you think you will find God somewhere else? Whichever place you are in - that's where you will find Him." That lowest level, represented by the "great town in Rome" - that is where you will find God; that is your starting point. We are not able to "skip" generations. A person must be honest with himself. A grain of honesty and truth is worth more than anything else - not only in God's eyes, but also in terms of what it achieves. We may not allow ourselves to whitewash the truth. Today we are faced with big questions, and we have to pray that during the course of our lives we shall be worthy of having them answered fully. The main thing, as Rabbi Nachman said, is to start from wherever you are. I shall say a few words about the value of Torah study in terms of the sublime nature of Torah. On the verse, "And they shall take a contribution for Me" (Shemot 25:1), the Midrash explains (Shemot Rabba 33): "Is there such a thing as an object whose owner is sold together with it? God said to Israel: I sold you My Torah; I was sold, as it were, together with it, as it is written - 'and they shall take a contribution to me' - they will take Me. This may be compared to a king who had an only daughter. Another king came and took her as his wife. Then the latter wanted to return to his country, taking his new wife with him. The father said to him: This daughter whom I gave to you, is the only one I have. I cannot part from her. I also cannot tell you, 'Don't take her,' for she is your wife. So please do me the following kindness: every place that you go, make one chamber for me so that I can stay with you, for I cannot be separated from my daughter. In the same way, God said to Israel: I have given you the Torah. I cannot part from it. I also cannot tell you, 'Don't take it.' So wherever you go, make Me a house so that I may dwell in it, as it is written - 'And they shall make Me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them.'" Indeed, the Midrash (Tanchuma Bereishit 58, 3) describes the Oral Law as being characterized by "darkness." The covenant was sealed by means of the Oral Law, which is difficult to study and to understand and which involves much effort and pain, which is compared to darkness. The Midrash Tanchuma further teaches that at Sinai, God had to force the nation to accept the Oral Torah by threatening them with destruction - even though regarding the Written Law they had declared "na'aseh ve-nishma" ("We shall do and we shall hear," indicating unconditional acceptance) - since the Oral Law is full of minute and demanding details which are "as strong as death and whose jealousy is as hard as She'ol." From time to time attempts were made to respond in various ways to the types of questions mentioned abo. Mussar, study of emuna, the "internal teachings of the Torah," mysticism, Chassidism. None of these succeeded in answering the questions. Quoting Chazal, R. Chayim of Volozhin states (in his Nefesh HaChayim) that fear of Heaven is a good thing, and may be compared to a measure of chumtun (a preservative) surrounding a bundle of wheat. The measure of chumtun keeps the wheat from becoming rotten. He then adds: All this is true of a "measure" of chumtun, but if all your produce is chumtun - i.e., if you deal only with issues relating to fear of Heaven - then you actually have nothing in your hands. Fear of Heaven assists in the task of learning Torah, but it is not a substitute for it. Historically, too - both on a "micro" and on a "macro" scale - it has been proven that without intensive Torah study, nothing else has any permanence. Any community which did not include Torah study - involvement in the disputes of Abaye and Rava - did not last. I'll be quite honest with you. Rav Lichtenstein wrote a wonderful article entitled, "The Ideology of Hesder". (Hesder is an educational framework where students alternate periods of Torah study with periods of army service.) When I first thought of the hesder idea, many years ago - long before it became a reality - I didn't think of any of the points which Rav Lichtenstein raises in his article. A single thought directed me in the realization of my idea: If the religious-Zionist community, living in the modern world, didn't have an elite of Torah scholars, it would degenerate from a religious point of view. Without the disputes of Abaye and Rava, without Gemara, there is no Judaism - nothing can remain of Judaism. Look at all the attempts that have been made in this direction over the course of our history. Look at all the study halls. You'll discover that only a place which studied and continues to study Gemara survives and endures. Go into any synagogue and see: A regular Gemara shiur lasts twenty or thirty years, while other shiurim last a year or two; no more. Hence a person who studies Torah "takes" God with him; he develops a connection with Him. Why? I don't know. But that's the reality. I know that there are those who want a concrete answer. For their benefit I shall read a short excerpt from the Tanya (Likkutei Amarim, ch. 5): When any intellect perceives and understands some intellectual subject, the mind grasps that subject and encompasses it, and the subject is grasped and encompassed by, and is clothed within, the intellect that understood and perceived it... When, for example, one understands and comprehends a particular halakha in the Mishna or Gemara, clearly and thoroughly, his intellect grasps and encompasses that halakha, and his intellect is also clothed in it. Now, this halakha is the wisdom and Will of God. It so arose in His Will that if, for example, Reuven would claim thus and Shimon thus, such and such should be the verdict between them. Even if it never did nor ever will come to pass that litigation occur over these arguments and claims, yet, since it arose thus in God's Will and wisdom that if one person would claim this way and the other that way, the verdict be such and such - therefore when one knows and comprehends this verdict as a halakha set forth in the Mishna or Gemara or codifiers, he then actually comprehends and grasps the Will and wisdom of God, Whom no thought can grasp, nor [can any thought grasp] His Will and wisdom, except when [God's Will and wisdom] clothe themselves in the halakhot set before us. A similar idea can be found in the fourth section of Nefesh HaChayim, by R. Chayim of Volozhin. Indeed, someone who wants an answer that is based on the sources need look no further. Speaking for myself, I feel that the Midrash is sufficient. I don't need to explain the connection and relationship that is created by Torah study. But for me that says a lot.
