"Omar Abaye . . . Omar Rovo . . . says the gemora . .
. "
The time: 7:00 p.m., 8:00 p.m. -- perhaps 10:00 p.m.
The
place: Bnei Brak, Yerushalayim, Tiveria, Haifa, London,
Antwerp,
Montreal, Boro Park, Skokie, North Hollywood --
anywhere Jews are
gathered.
The occasion: A Daf Hayomi shiur.
Ah, that
fabulous idea first proclaimed before the gathered
masses by HaRav
Meir Shapira of Lublin, before thousands of
Jewish leaders of the
generation, that dream he described in
his speech: "The same
daf, at the same time,
everywhere around the world . . . Two
Jews who speak a common
language and meet on an ocean liner, one from
Eretz Yisroel
and the other from chutz lo'oretz, both have
something
in common to talk about: the daf from Daf
Hayomi!"
And indeed, this lofty vision has been realized.
Ashreinu. Everywhere around the world tens of
thousands of
Jews gather together at a set time every
evening, day in and day out
without exception -- erev
Pesach, chol hamoed, Yom Kippur,
nights when there are
weddings to attend and nights when anxieties
weigh heavily --
always, at the same time, and at the same
place.
True, this is a fantastic sight to behold. "Omar Abaye .
.
. Omar Rovo . . . " the voice echoes in the beis
medrash.
The maggid shiur is already ready. Finally
everyone is
seated, leaning over their gemoras, listening
carefully to every word that comes from his mouth as they try
to
hear, comprehend and assimilate the words of the Talmud
with
love.
It's now fifteen minutes into the shiur.
This is
the high point. The milsa debedichusa has
already been said.
The routine disruptions involved in
finding the seforim,
opening to the right daf
and the right place on the
omud, finding a chair and
sitting down, are finally behind
them.
It's still too early for any of the weary participants to
begin to drift off. This is the great hour.
The maggid
shiur devotes all of his energy to the task
at hand. Asking
kashas, presenting maskonos.
One participant asks a
question and another suggests a
solution to a problem. One builds,
and another takes apart.
Everyone is immersed in the waters of Torah
as if dipping in
a mikva -- not a single inch of flesh remains
out of
the water.
Everyone is stooped over in absorbed
concentration. The
trebled pleasure of HaKodosh Boruch Hu, His
Torah and
Yisroel is palpable. To feel it requires almost no effort
whatsoever . . .
But then it happens. In one cruel instant it all
dissipates.
Cut off in one fell swoop! Everyone starts to squirm and
glance around. Eyes come up off the page and begin wandering
around
the room in search of the melody. The tune sounds
idiotic at best,
perhaps even wicked. The pants pocket of one
of the participants
begins to trill -- or even worse, the
sound may be coming from the
pocket of one of the jackets on
the other side of the room.
And
this tune -- taken from a vast selection of options
offered by the
malefactor, which was sitting off on its own
the whole time, seething
with anger -- this tune now attracts
20, 30, 40 pairs of eyes . . .
meanwhile the same number of
hands start tapping, wandering,
exploring the cracks and
contours of the table.
Now no one is
devoting his complete attention to the
maggid shiur and
concentrating solely on the
sugya at hand. Everyone -- without
exception -- is
distracted to some extent.
The unfortunate agent
of this great evil quickly rises from
mishtei hayayin and
leaves ginas bisan
haMelech. He is truly to be pitied, for he
has
unwittingly cut down this moment of ateres tiferes
Yisroel with his bare hands.
If some of our readers have yet
to identify the culprit, it
is a very small idol, a miniaturized
pesel updated to
suit the needs of our modern generation.
Although only one of
a great number of advances, it is of great
importance in our
age. Peh lohem velo yedabeiru, yet this idol
talks
anytime and all the time!
It seems the time has come to
speak candidly: cell-phones in
the beis medrash and during
shiurim are a
plague and a pestilence, bal yeiro'eh ubal
yimotzei!
Today there is no question that this is one of the
great
successes the Evil One can inscribe on his list of recent
achievements, for Rabbi Cell-phone has become one of the
leading
advocates in our generation for bitul
Torah.
Perhaps it
would be best not to discuss such matters
publicly, for it could
cause us to avert our gaze in shame at
the sight of these people and
their precious accessories,
those pocket-size devices of disgrace,
and if we must speak
openly, perhaps what has been said thus far will
suffice. But
since clearly this insufferable use of cell-phones has
not
intentionally become a sweeping heter within this
esteemed tzibbur, whose members set aside a portion of
their
limited free time, leaving their homes and their
personal affairs in
order to come to the beis medrash
to edify themselves through
concentrated study, we must at
least say a few words to clarify the
severity of this
stumbling block, iboy'is eimo kro, iboy'is eimo
sevora.
Besides the tremendous disruption directly caused by
the
strident sound of this demon in disguise -- both for the
gadget
owners and for the other participants who stop
learning and whose
thoughts are scattered until they are left
groping in the dark, and
the maggid shiur has to herd
the flock together once again, to
gather together the lost
and wandering, remove all of the obstacles,
repeat what was
said before the phone was whisked out of the suit
pocket and
caused its rude interruption, to reestablish the
connection
between what was said before and what remained to be said
during the rest of the shiur -- besides all of these
factors,
most of the distraction is the result of the damage
done by this
seemingly innocent disruption: detracting from
kevi'us itim
leTorah.
This pressing question that drives him to the Daf
Hayomi
shiur to begin with, this question that pierces to the
heart of every Jew of faith -- "Kovato itim leTorah?" -
- this
question cannot be answered positively, for this is
certainly not a
viable form of kevi'us eis leTorah.
It would be more
accurate to say that this is a set time for
incoming calls (for then,
at least, outgoing calls are not
made during shiurim).
Conversations are carried out in
resounding voices, mouths aimed into
the peh-lohem-velo-
yedabeiru devices. The hour of the
shiur has
become a time set for all of the crucial matters
discussed
during the course of the phone call, as well as kevi'us
eis leTorah perhaps, but certainly this time has not been
set
aside for Torah alone.
In fact, this phenomenon contradicts the
words of the Chazon
Ish zt'l in his famous letter, where he
writes, " . .
. to learn for an hour and to stop for an hour is a
means of
maintaining nothingness. One [who learns uninterruptedly]
sows seeds and waters them to make them grow . . . whereas
one who
engages in Torah for short intervals gathers wind . .
. "
What
would he say about someone who learns for only one hour,
during which
he stops for five minutes, returns to the
gemora, and then
stops again?
One may ask, "What is the great loss in a short break
to take
a phone call? After all, I was engaged in Torah for the
entire hour, half of it before the call, and half of it after
the
call. And anyway, I was not very focused on the
conversation, as if
it hardly ever took place . . . I stayed
after the shiur to
make up the time, so why make such
a fuss over a few short
minutes?"
It seems quite unlikely that when someone stands up and
leaves the group, that in an instant the impression left by
the
conversation flits from his memory as if it never
existed. Let's not
fool ourselves. If indeed we were in the
company of men of such
mental fortitude, perhaps there would
be no need to find fault. But
greater men from past
generations pointed out the error in such
thinking, which
they explain through the following parable:
It
takes ten minutes to boil a kettle of water on a stovetop.
But if the
kettle is removed from the burner five minutes
after the stove is
lit, and is placed back on the fire
fifteen minutes later for another
five minutes, the water
will not reach the boiling point. Why? After
all, the kettle
was on the fire for ten minutes. The Chazon Ish would
say
that although the water was heated for ten minutes, it was
not
left on the fire for ten consecutive minutes!
Rabbi Akiva!
Rabbi Akiva the great tanna who left home
for twelve years
with his wife's consent, finally returned
home and, standing at the
threshold of his home after twelve
years of total separation, just a
turn of the knob away,
fully aware of his wife Rochel's mesirus
nefesh, hears
his wife's conversation with a rosho who
taunts her
about her husband's conduct toward her, and she says, "If
he
came home I would send him for another twelve years."
Standing
there on the other side of the door Rabbi Akiva
says, "If she has
given me permission, then I'll go back
again" (Nedorim 50a) and
indeed he turned on his heels
without stepping inside for a moment
and returned for another
twelve years.
"Why didn't he go inside
for a moment," asked HaRav Chaim
Shmuelevitz, his voice resounding.
"for just a brief moment
to say hello? If he was already standing at
the door, why
didn't he go in for just one moment?"
"Because,"
declares the Sha'arei Chaim, "twelve years
and another twelve
years is not twenty-four years!"
If this is said about twelve
consecutive years and another
twelve consecutive years, certainly
half an hour and another
half an hour can never equal one hour. The
voices of Chazal
can be heard through the pen of the Chazon Ish in
the above
letter when he writes, "Real learning is continuous and
uninterrupted. Continuous learning is the secret of
kedushah." We must drive this message into our
consciousness
and fully comprehend it: real learning is
continuous and
uninterrupted!
Furthermore, the Vilna Gaon, in his commentary on
the verse,
"Yekoroh hi mipeninim," asks how Torah, which
HaKodosh Boruch Hu delights in every day, can be
compared to
pearls, which are relatively ephemeral. (This is
also probably why in
maseches Horios Chazal learn that
Torah is valued more highly
than the Cohen Godol, who enters
the Holy of Holies, but nevertheless
ein mikro yotzei
mipeshuto.) It is well known, writes the
Gaon, that
almost everything in the world doubles in value when it
doubles in quantity. If a pound of a certain kind of fruit is
sold
for $2, two pounds will cost $4, and the same principle
applies in
most cases.
Pearls, however, are an exception to the rule. If a
small
pearl worth $100 is doubled in size, its price can jump up to
$400 or more. Shlomo Hamelech o'h said the same is
true of
Torah. One minute of study brings a large reward, but
two minutes of
study is more than one minute multiplied by
two, and does not even
increase four or five times like
pearls, rather "yekoroh hi
mipeninim." Doubling the
quantity increases the value
tremendously.
Certainly everyone would like to know how to achieve
this
darga of Torah study without interruptions of any
kind.
Within the confines of this article it would be
impossible to provide
a full explanation on how to achieve
this level, but perhaps it would
be illuminating to quote
Rabboseinu z'l, who showed us the
way, saying, "He who
wants to live should obliterate
himself."
HaRav Soloveitchik zt'l explained that Chazal
meant to
say that the way to acquire Torah is only by removing
oneself
entirely from the distractions of the world around us, and
according to the Chazon Ish in his well-known letter, the
verse
"Zos haTorah, odom ki yomus bo'ohel" refers to
the death of
the common life on the way to reaching a more
profound life, a life
of greater truth.
The Chofetz Chaim zt'l illustrated this
concept
through a heartwarming incident recorded in his sefer,
Shemiras Haloshon (Part III, Chapter 4): "I heard a story
about
an entrepreneur, a man of means who abandoned the
vanities of this
world to study Torah night and day. His wife
and children and his
extended family banded together to
persuade him to return to his
previous existence, but he
remained completely indifferent to their
efforts and
eventually they gave up. People who knew him since he had
been an important businessman asked him how he managed to
ignore the
pleas of his close family.
"He replied: `I contemplated Chazal's
dictum that Torah only
takes root in "mi shemeimis atzmo
olehoh," meaning as
if he were already dead and gone. One should
see himself as
if all of his affairs were taken care of, his days
were spent
and he was brought before the King, the King of Kings,
HaKodosh Boruch Hu, to weigh all of the matters that
took up
his time and accomplished nothing, and was found
chayov bedino
shel ma'aloh. He then would cry out,
"Woe is me for my evil
deeds!" If at that point he were given
a chance to return to earth
and do teshuva, certainly
he would not hesitate for a single
moment, and would not take
any interest in domestic affairs. If one
were to think in
these terms and realize that according to his
avonos
he should have died long ago, and if after his death
HaKodosh Boruch Hu did a great kindness by giving him
permission to return and do teshuva, certainly he
would not
hesitate for even a brief moment. If HaKodosh
Boruch Hu
prolongs his days on earth to afford him the
opportunity to do
teshuva during his lifetime,
certainly he should make every
effort to urge himself on to
do teshuva for his avonos,
and to learn Torah
constantly, and at the very least, to have a fixed
time for
Torah, and not to pay any attention to those who try to
disrupt his study.'"
No matter how well known these ideas may be,
and no matter
how many times we were taught them and raised on them,
and no
matter how great our battles against our yetzer hora,
everyone according to his own madreiga, here is where
the big
question steps in: Who gave anyone permission to
import more
nisyonos? Who is willing to take
responsibility for bitul
Torah on a daily basis --
which, as we explained above, actually
detracts from the
essence of Torah learning -- for dozens of other
people
trying to learn, in addition to his own bitul
Torah?
Can this be called "chomed Torah?" Is someone
like
this considered to be striving to learn Torah when he arrives
with a mini-idol clipped to his belt or stashed in his
pocket, as if
announcing, "Rabbosai, an uninterrupted
shiur tonight is
highly unlikely!"
And would it come as any surprise if his
learning is
burdensome to the point of being disliked?
Every day
we say in our tefilloh: ve'al tevi'einu lidei
nisoyon, and we
truly do hope not to have to face any
nisyonos that might
disturb us and prevent us from
studying Torah. Yet any bar
da'as will readily admit
that his arrival at the beis
medrash to attend the
shiur with this nefarious gadget in
his pocket is
placing a nisoyon before himself that is really
more
than a nisoyon, for experience shows that on a regular
basis, when the cheery melody begins to play, he immediately
thrusts
his hand into the pocket to retrieve his cherished
telephone device,
and begins a personal conversation either
inside or outside of the
beis medrash. How can he not
be ashamed to daven every
morning to be spared from
nisyonos when he hands himself a
nisoyon on
that same day?
The Or Yisroel from Salant
demonstrated that the individual's
main avodoh is to increase
his yiras Shomayim
and to decrease his nisyonos, i.e.,
to increase
yiras Shomayim by picturing Who he will one day
have
to stand before to account for himself and for lost mitzvos
and
deeds punishable by Gehennom, and to reduce
nisyonos by
fleeing from them and by winning the great
battle with yetzer
hora.
Everyone in our generation -- in which darkness covers
the
earth -- who has the privilege of participating in regular
shiurei Torah and fixing daily times for Torah study,
must
reduce the nisoyon he must face, particularly
this formidable
nisoyon, which disturbs everyone in
the beis medrash,
and prevents continuous learning and
removes the element of
kevi'us itim leTorah, by
leaving the cell-phone at home or in
the car as many of his
peers already do. Furthermore he should
resolve to devote
this time exclusively to the gemora lying
before him,
as if the outside world were dead during this
hour.
It should also be clear that neither are those who really
are
busy taking care of various mitzvos exempt from setting fixed
times for Torah. And if these people do set a time to learn,
it
should be reserved for Torah and nothing else.
Leaving the cell-
phone on during the shiur and relying
on the pretense that
someone may need to call urgently right
at that time is definitely
the counsel of the yetzer
hora. Rav Chaim of Volozhin
zt'l warned against
such faulty reasoning, writing, "This is
Satan, the yetzer
hora, who is the Angel of Death. It blinds
the eyes of
Yisroel, showing them what it chooses and hiding from
them
what it chooses." This is not the place to expand on the
subject, but insightful readers will always be wary of
similar
situations.
Perhaps it would be best to conclude with the
comforting
words of the Chofetz Chaim zt'l in his sefer,
Ahavas Chesed: "I heard that a certain gaon said
that one
should imagine three things: That he has only one
day to live; That
he has only one chapter of mishnayos
or one daf of
gemora, whatever he is studying
at the time; And that Yisroel
is one, and that HaKodosh
Boruch Hu commands us to keep the
Torah, on which the
world depends . . .
"In my opinion, all three
of these concepts are hinted at in
the Torah in parshas Krias
Shema: `Ve'ohavto es
Hashem Elokecho bechol levovecho, uvechol
nafshecho uvechol
me'odecho,' but what can you do until you reach
that
point? `Vehoyu hadevorim ho'eileh' refers to the small
amount you are learning at present. `Asher Onochi
metzavecho'
means you should think to yourself that
nothing exists beside
HaKodosh Boruch Hu and yourself.
`Hayom' means there is
only today. `Al
levovecho' means that these three concepts
should remain
in a man's heart at all times."
Anyone who
seriously contemplates all of the above will take
these essential
truths to heart as halochoh lema'aseh,
and will have the merit
to establish a true kevi'us itim
leTorah with all of its
ramifications, based on the true
meaning contained in this sublime
concept, and will enjoy all
of the blessings promised to those who
engage in and support
Torah study: "ayin lo ro'aso Elokim
zulosecho, ya'aseh
lemechakei lo," Omen.