One intermediate day of Pesach, signs were posted to announce
that a rabbi from another area was scheduled to give a talk
in a shul nearby. I like to avail myself of every opportunity
to hear Torah speakers, especially ones I haven't heard
before, so off I went to the lecture.
The speaker is a senior citizen. Most likely, he has been
giving talks like this for decades. He began by telling us
one specific concept: If we do not develop or enlarge upon
our feelings of gratitude to Hashem during Pesach, we are
missing the point of the holiday.
He began to elaborate on the topic, and lo and behold, he did
something very rare in this day and age. He stuck to the
topic. He gave examples and expanded on what he was saying,
and the message was very clear: We must feel gratitude to
Hashem during Pesach. It is now two months later and I
clearly remember what he said.
Often, when I am leaving a lecture, I hear one of the young
women around me telling her friend, "Wow. That was really
impressive. This speaker really knows her stuff."
But if you asked this same woman ten minutes later to tell
you the most important thing she learned that evening, she
would not be able to tell you. The speaker had woven together
a tapestry that included quotes, sources and stories. She had
dropped names, ideas and facts that spanned all of recorded
history.
However, the only thing the listener could have told you was
that the speaker had impressed her with a display of
brilliance. The subject matter? Ah. That was another
matter.
People today want entertainment. They want to watch a showman
put on an act. Unfortunately, that mentality has crept into
the world of Torah lectures for women.
The outreach movement has been very successful. We now have
Torah "colleges" for young women. Some of the women who
attend these institutions are graduates of the finest secular
universities. They are used to the showmanship approach.
The lecturers at the Torah colleges know that full well. They
have to show the young women who are their students that they
can put on just as dazzling a performance as any secular
professor, and some of them are very adept at their craft.
The older generation is made up of gifted teachers who know a
lot and can impart their subject matter, even in the "dazzle"
mode, but unfortunately the new generation also includes
people who excel in the flash and showmanship at the expense
of the subject matter.
I was at one talk recently where the woman who was speaking
mused rhetorically, "You may be wondering why I am telling
you this story," and although it was a very good story and
everyone found it amusing, no one could find any connection
at all to the topic at hand. We were all waiting for some
brilliant insight that would show us that there was a
connection.
The insight never materialized. The speaker just rushed into
another thought, another quote, another story and Boom! Just
as dramatically as it started, the talk was over. The speaker
was so smug and self-satisfied that none of the women in the
audience dared to ask her what she was trying to say.
We want our young women who are the future mothers of the
next generation to absorb Torah truths and to be able to pass
them on to their children. We want them to remember what they
hear. We don't want them to come away knowing only that the
faculty at the Torah college is made up of brilliant people.
We want the young women to learn Torah, to appreciate Torah
and to live Torah lives.
Maybe it is too much to hope for, but I would like to see a
return to the simple way of teaching that has always
characterized the world of Torah. Every cheder child
can tell you that Rabbi Preda had a student who was slow at
learning and that Rabbi Preda repeated the lesson 400 times
until the student caught on.
He didn't use dazzling teaching techniques to impress the
student. He repeated the actual message of the lesson 400
times. And guess what? Eventually even this learning disabled
student absorbed the subject matter.
We have a tradition of maggidim, master storytellers
who were able to use parables and other sophisticated
teaching tools to get across their messages in a way that the
listeners could both appreciate and retain. From the stories
of the Dubna Maggid to those of Rabbi Paysach Krohn and many
other storytellers in between, we have learned and grown.
However, if a maggid had tried to impress his audience
by sitting down the night before the talk and looking up
twenty tidbits of information that are loosely connected to
the week's parsha or an upcoming holiday, and then
hurling them at the listeners in a rapid-fire delivery, I
don't think he would have gotten very far. If you listen to
one of Rabbi Krohn's tapes, you will hear a few closely
related ideas, some stories that illustrate those concepts,
and a fitting conclusion.
At the end, Rabbi Krohn gives a recap. He tells us that we
are going to remember the following three or four things, and
he repeats the salient points he already spoke about. The
beautiful part of it is that we do remember these things. Not
just while we are hearing them, but for a long time
thereafter.
We are all familiar with the children's story about the
emperor's new clothes. A haughty emperor ordered a set of
clothing from a charlatan who took a large sum of money and
then pretended to sew together a suit which of course existed
only in the realm of imagination. The dishonest tailor asked
the emperor's advisors to comment on the beauty of the suit
and, not wanting to admit he didn't see anything, each
advisor heaped compliments on the "suit."
Of course the emperor did not see anything either, because
there was no suit to see, but he didn't want to appear to be
the only one who was so simple that he couldn't see the
beautiful new clothing. So he allowed himself to be "dressed"
in the imaginary garment and went out "wearing" it. It took
an honest child to call to everyone's attention the obvious
fact that the emperor was attired in nothing but his
underwear.
Maybe what we need is a few honest children to go out and
listen to some of today's masters of oratory showmanship, and
to call to everyone's attention that fact that there is no
specific useful message there to learn and retain.
Yes, I know. In the classroom, college students can take
meticulous notes, mull over the subject matter and look
things up. If all else fails, they can ask the best students
in the class to help them. In that way, they can make sense
of the most disjointed of lectures. However, the talks that I
attend are usually given for busy housewives and working
women, who will sit there for the hour of the talk, hopefully
stay awake, and either catch or miss the point right at that
sitting. There are no notebooks, research, or second
chances.
The teaching field today is highly competitive. Only the best
and the brightest are selected to teach, especially at the
high school level and higher. The young women who are
teaching at Torah colleges are certainly capable of both
teaching and inspiring the women who invite them to speak
before women's groups. However, in many cases, I don't see
that happening.
If we recognize the significant flaw in the razzle-dazzle
approach, then perhaps future generations of aspiring
teachers can learn their craft from people like the rabbi who
spoke to us during Pesach. I must say, he was a very
impressive speaker.
