TORAH OR BIBLE?


Jonathan Nathan


CUJerusalem The task was quite simple at first, even a bit amusing; the work was brisk, and I approached it with the same alacrity that I had for any subject of great ease. Having successfully read the bulk of the more unfamiliar Greek and Roman works on the Lit Hum syllabus, the thought of reading Genesis and Exodus in a secular environment did not exactly send a fearful chill down my spine. I felt like a hockey team returning to home ice after a successful road trip. Imagine my relief upon realizing that I would have a reasonably substantial mid-semester hiatus from heavy readings due to the inclusion of "literature" so familiar that I could recall the stories in full detail -- even if awakened at 4 a.m. Further, I thought, the rigors of a decade of yeshiva education and a year of study in Israel would benefit me in a class in which the text was so familiar, if the method of study was not.

I admit an emotional disposition bordering on smugness, and, ostensibly, my jubilation had reasonable justification. In fanning my internal competitive fires, I asked myself whether I might ever again have such an advantage over fellow students, and I could not find a comparable scenario. The first class or two that covered Biblical material sustained the basis for my optimism; all around me, students both familiar and unfamiliar with the Bible listened with the type of respect that we rowdy "Lit Humers" rarely afforded one another.

Many have noted that Torah has that "magical" power to draw those who study it to a heightened emotional state, even when they do not expect it. The occasion of the first Friday night following my initiation into the secular world of Bible study proved this theory quite accurate. My complacence met an abrupt emotional roadblock as I sat down to a traditional review of the weekly Torah portion, read twice through with Rashi's commentary. The notion of Sh'nayim Mikra V'echad Targum, twice reviewing the weekly portion and once reading the commentary, had always seemed like a predictable and reassuring way of plunging into the primary piece of Jewish journalism for the week, and it distances one from the abyss of ignorance.

After reading a few Rashis a bit rapidly and superficially, I realized that I was not absorbing the true insight of what Rashi had meant to present for a certain passage. Suddenly, I produced an image in my mind of where I had been exactly one year previously in my review of the very same Biblical portion. The city of T'zfat, historically a center of mysticism, had been my Israeli Yeshiva's destination for that Shabbat. Simultaneously, the picture of my Rabbi, fervently giving a complex class on the intricacies of the same portion, attached itself to my conscience.

Although I managed to routinely complete my religious rendition of the weekly Bible portion, the thoughts of my yeshiva study in Israel began to recur, on a progressively larger scale, each and every time I opened up the Standard Edition Bible used for Lit Hum. The ease with which I first approached Lit Hum Bible study slowly transformed itself into something more serious. Hadn't I been, just months previously, on a personal religious peak which I had worked hard to achieve and sustain? Did I not study the Torah in an intellectual environment defined by a dialogue of holy pursuits spoken in holy dialect, striving to better myself in a challenging situation. What, then, was my Core curriculum experience by comparison? A parody of Torah study masquerading as genuine scholarship? Because I could not conceive a comforting response at first, my prevailing mood was that of guilt and self-doubt. Was I some sort of traitor, possibly turning my back on the traditional mode of Torah study in order to replace it with a new mode?

Despite my angst, a few trips to the Columbia Beit Midrash (Jewish study hall) to study with a devoted upperclassman served to lift my spirits and reinvigorate me. Once I understood where I was, I felt much more comfortable. After all, instead of spending my afternoon hours studying in the College Reading Room, I had come to the Beit Midrash, to delve into Jewish heritage for its own sake.

The two modes of Torah study are quite distinct from one another, yet no evaluation of one's superiority over the other can be objective. Beit Midrash learning is a rigorous, and didactic exploration of the texts of antiquity. Medieval scholars "slug it out" in a series of extrapolations, textual confirmations, logic-based proofs, and cross-scriptural references set forth in a traditional methodology, to which any modern participants are both privileged observers and active participants. Classroom review of the Biblical texts represents a far more refined, aesthetic process. While I come to the Beit Midrash ready to do battle with certain principles by which a fair war is conducted, I see myself in the Lit Hum classroom taking a step back and viewing the Bible in the larger context of Western literature.

There is nothing inherently wrong with the aesthetic mode of study of the Bible--given that it takes place in a secular context. On the contrary, it is actually a tremendous opportunity that we rarely encounter in the world, something unique to the University experience. In the Lit Hum context, we Jews need to clarify our traditional understanding of our Biblical texts, and to explain our views to an audience receptive to, or at least curious about, what traditional Judaism--the cultural source of these world-shattering texts--has to say about them. It should not be an occasion for pompous lecturing, at one extreme, or for meek pandering to inaccurate interpretations on the other hand. Instead, a moderate attitude is the key to this enjoyable, rewarding, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The Columbia College faculty has decided that these texts--our texts--are among the foremost that the Western world has produced, and they have backed up this feeling by including the texts in the Core--a difficult "lineup" to break into (just ask our friends among the ethnic studies advocates). Far be it for us to bemoan this inclusion. It merely reconfirms the Torah's assertion that the content of the Bible shall be "your wisdom and discernment to the people of the world" (Deuteronomy 4:6). We might even discover ever new splendor in the book of our heritage by studying it with the insight of the advanced and critical minds of our professors. So long as we remain strong and firm in our traditional modes of Torah study, the supplement of Core Curriculum-style Bible study should be neither casually passed off as a simplistic addition nor guiltily dreaded as treacherous. A happy, balanced approach--"for its paths are pleasant paths and all its attributes peaceful"--is most true to our Book. So a message to freshmen and sophomores: come early for those Lit Hum and CC Bible lessons--it'll be well worth it.


Jonathan Nathan is a Columbia College junior.

Comments?