By Shimi Kaufman
Talmud Torah, the study of Torah, may be considered the apex of religious achievement for the practicing Jew. The epithet of talmid hakham, Torah scholar, is commonly used as synonymous with tzaddik, the righteous individual. Sources abound which stress the benefits of sustained Torah study and knowledge for the religious individual. The result is a general tendency to think of talmud Torah as a solitary pursuit, divorced from communal life and relegated to the private sphere. In truth, however, the classical texts reveal a conception of the study of Torah as a communal endeavor at its core; in particular, the idea of Torah lishmah, Torah for Torah’s sake, is best understood as an imperative to study Torah selflessly and with an eye to broader communal achievement rather than just personal edification. This essay will explore this often underlooked aspect of talmud Torah, and analyze its impact on both the halakhic and philosophical underpinnings on the study of Torah.
I.
Two sources in Talmud Bavli are often presented as being in conflict regarding the position of R. Shimon b. Yochai with respect to the mitzvah of talmud Torah. One source (Berakhot 35b) states:
It was taught: why must the verse say ‘and you shall gather your grain’ (Deuteronomy 11:14)? Because the verse states (Joshua 1:8) “this book of Torah should not leave your mouth,” you may think that this is literal; therefore, we read ‘and you shall gather your grain,’ to teach that you should act with them as one normally acts in the world. These are the words of Rabbi Yishmael.
Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai says: if one plows in the season of plowing, and plants in the season of planting, and harvests in the season of harvesting – what will become of the Torah? Rather, when Israel does the will of God, their work is done by others, and when they do not do the will of God, their work is done by themselves; and this is the context of the verse ‘and you shall gather your grain.’
Abaye said: many people acted in accordance with the words of Rabbi Yishamel, and were successful, and many people acted in accordance with the words of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai, and were not successful.
The position of R. Shimon b. Yochai presented here is one which strikes us as idealistic, almost extremist. It advocates for single-minded devotion to Torah, to the exclusion of all other earthly concerns. This approach, the Gemara is quick to point out, is not applicable on a large scale; many attempted to live in line with R. Shimon’s instructions, but it was to no avail. R. Yishmael’s approach, which blends serious study of Torah with derekh eretz, a concern with making a living, is much more feasible for the masses. The Gemara seems to present a conflict between an optimist and a realist, between single-minded religious fanaticism and a more grounded pragmatism, concluding with a sober assessment of the success of each program of study.
In contrast, a radically different approach, attributed to the same rabbinic personality, is reported in the Gemara in Menachot (99b)
Rabbi Yochanan said in the name of Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai: even if a person only read the first chapter of Shema in the morning and night, they have fulfilled their obligation of “do not let the words of Torah leave your mouth”; and this point is forbidden to tell an ignoramus. Rava said: it is a mitzvah to tell this to an ignoramus.
The contrast between this statement of R. Shimon b. Yochai and the one found in his dialogue with R. Yishmael is stark. In this instance, rather than advocating for uncompromising commitment to rigorous Torah study, he posits a minimum requirement which can be fulfilled through one’s daily recitation of the Shema. Of course, no actual contradiction exists here – there is a major difference between an ideal program of study and a bare minimum obligation, and the two need not reflect on one another. Even so, the two sources strike us as incongruous. How could the same voice which articulated such a strong stance on the single-minded dedication which Torah study requires acquiesce to such a measly bare minimum? Could the same voice which articulated such concern for the upkeep of Torah really allow for such a sparse form of the essential obligation? The point is made worse by the fact that both sources revolve around the verse quoted from Joshua (1:8) “this book of Torah should not leave your mouth, and you shall involve yourself in it day and night.” How can these two sources come to such radically different conclusions regarding the same pasuk?
II.
Before addressing this issue, let us turn our attention to another question. There is a glaring structural issue which presents itself in the first chapter of Rambam’s Hilkhot Talmud Torah, noted by many modern commentators.[1] One would expect Rambam to open with an explication of the obligation to study Torah, as both a religious obligation and a spiritually edifying exercise. Indeed, Rambam does speak at length about the personal obligation to study Torah, beginning in halakha 8:
8: Every man from Israel is obligated in the study of Torah, whether poor or rich, whether healthy or afflicted by pain, whether young or an old man who has lost his strength. even a poor person who collects charity to survive, even one who has a wife and children to support, is obligated to set aside time to study Torah by day and by night, as the verse says “and you shall think about it day and night” (Joshua 1:8).
9: Among the great wise men of Israel were woodcutters, water drawers, even blind people; even so, they involved themselves in Torah day and night, and they are among those who transferred the Torah as heard from one person to another, all the way back to Moshe Rabbeinu.
10: Until when is a person obligated to study Torah? Until the day of his death, as the verse says (Deuteronomy 4:9) “lest you forget it all the days of your life.” Any time that a person is not involving himself in Torah, he is bound to forget what he has already learned.
These halakhot, characteristic of Rambam in both their clarity and seamless integration of Rabbinic concepts, would have served as a fitting introduction to this part of the code. Instead, the section begins with something of a diversion – a list of who is exempt from the mitzvah, followed by a series of technical halakhot relating to education of youngsters and hiring teachers.
1: Women and slaves are exempt from the study of Torah, but sons, their father is obligated to teach them, as the verse says (Deuteronomy 11:19) “and you should teach them to your children, and you should speak about them.” A woman is not obligated to teach her son, since only those who are obligated to learn are obligated to teach.
2: Just as a person is obligated to teach his son, so is he obligated to teach his grandson, as the verse says (Deuteronomy 4:9) “and you shall teach your son and your son’s son”. And not just one’s son and grandson; rather, every wise man in Israel is obligated to teach students, even those who are not their sons, as the verse states (Deuteronomy 6:7) “and you shall teach your sons,” and the Rabbis interpreted that the ‘sons’ referenced here are one’s students, as students are called sons, as the verse says (Kings II 2:3) ‘the sons of the prophets went out.’
If this is so, why did the verse specify one’s son and grandson? To teach that one’s son takes priority over his grandson, and his grandson takes priority over his friend’s son.
3: One is obligated to hire a teacher for his own son, but one is not obligated to spend money to educate his friend’s son.
Someone whose father failed to teach him Torah must teach himself when he becomes aware of the obligation, as the verse says (Deuteronomy 5:1) “and you shall learn them and guard them to perform them”. And we find in all instances that learning precedes action, because learning brings one to action, but action does not bring one to learning.
It is an odd choice to begin the discussion of any law by first clarifying who is exempt from it. The seeming digression into technical laws of teaching based on a passing mention also strikes us as sporadic, reminiscent of Talmudic tangential thinking and uncharacteristic for a codifier as rigorous and organized as Maimonides. We are left to wonder what lies behind the structural decisions made here.
The solution to this issue may have to do with Maimonides’ conception of the commandment of talmud torah in general, more clearly laid out in his Sefer HaMitzvot (Mitzvat Aseh 11):
[The eleventh mitzvah is] to learn Torah and to teach it, and this is what is called “Talmud Torah.”.The source of this obligation is the verse (Deuteronomy 6:7) “and you shall shinantem to your children”; in Sifrei, it is written that the ‘sons’ referenced here are one’s students, as students are called sons, as the verse says (Kings II 2:3) ‘the sons of the prophets went out’..There in Sifrei it also says that ‘shinantem’ means that they should be sharp in one’s mouth, that when one is asked a question about them, he should answer immediately and not stumble over the answer…
Notably, Rambam describes the mitzvah of talmud Torah as an obligation to “learn Torah and to teach it,” seemingly addressing two aspects of the same fundamental requirement. The proof adduced for this position is from two Midrashic approaches to the verse in Deuteronomy 6:7, recited twice-daily as a part of the Shema: vishinantam livanecha. The Midrash (Sifrei Devarim Pis. 34) identifies the “children” in this verse as one’s students, reflecting a common motif in Rabbinic literature which identifies a teacher as a sort of spiritual “father.”[2] Rambam cites this Midrash, followed by another citation which relates the word vishinantam to the root SH.N.N., to sharpen, requiring that the words of Torah “be sharp in one’s mouth.” The clear implication of the Rambam is that the two interpretations are intended to be understood as not only simultaneously true, but as an integrated explanation of the verse – a person is obligated to privately study and clarify material, and then apply the same process of shinun to their teaching.
The roots of Maimonides’ understanding of this mitzvah can already be seen in the Gemara (Kiddushin 29b), which stresses a close textual and halakhic relationship between the obligation to learn and the obligation to teach.
[A father is obligated] to teach [his son] Torah. Where is this known from? The verse says (Deuteronomy 11:19) “and you shall teach them to your children.” In an instance where one’s father did not teach him, he is obligated to learn himself, as the verse says (Deuteronomy 5:1) “and you shall learn”. How do we know the mother is not obligated to teach her son Torah? We make a gezeirah shavah between limaditem (you shall teach) and lamaditem (you shall learn) – those who are obligated to learn are obligated to teach, and those who are not obligated to learn are not obligated to teach. How do we know that a woman is not obligated to teach herself? The same gezeirah shavah teaches that only one who must be taught must learn themself. And where do we know that one is not obligated to teach his daughter Torah? As the verse says “and you shall teach them to your sons,” and not your daughters.
What begins to emerge from the above is that talmud torah is not conceived of as primarily a personal obligation, in which each person is obligated to study Torah as a devotional or religious exercise. The study of Torah is a communal project, in which the populace is required to take responsibility for both their own learning and the learning of others. Our responsibility is that Torah be learned and known, and this responsibility manifests both in teaching ourselves and in teaching others. Certainly, there are spheres of influence – one has the most control over their own learning, and then the learning of their children – and these spheres of influence come with varying levels of responsibility and financial obligation. Ultimately, however, these obligations are merely personal instantiations of a communal imperative.
With this framing, we can better understand Rambam’s structuring of these halakhot. Fundamentally, all talmud Torah can and should be understood through the context of teaching. The chapter begins with a deliberate deconstruction of the general halakhic category “women, slaves, and children” (nashim avadim uketanim), by identifying the unique position of the child in relation to this mitzvah as the one for whom a system of education is most essential. The point is not to begin with those who are exempt from the mitzvah, but to define the contours of the communal obligation to teach Torah and stress the unique standing of children in this regard. In fact, if we pay close attention to the language in halakha 3, we notice that the first reference to any personal obligation to study Torah is framed as a mitzvah ‘to teach oneself’ in the absence of a proper education. The proper context in which to frame any individual’s mitzvah of talmud Torah is as one part of a larger mitzvah to teach Torah; one simply has the most ability, and commensurately the most responsibility, to teach oneself.
This way of thinking about talmud Torah can also help explain a puzzling halakha, found in the Gemara (Kiddushin 29b) and codified in Rambam Hil. Talmud Torah 1:4
It was taught: one who has the opportunity to learn, and his son also has the opportunity to learn, he takes precedence over his son. Rabbi Yehudah said: if his son is sharper, and more adept, and remembers his learning, his son takes precedence. This is like what occurred with Rabbi Yaakov the son of Rabbi Acha, whose father sent him to learn before Abaye. When he returned home, his father saw that he was not sufficiently sharp in his scholarship. His father said to him: “I am better than you! You go sit, and I will go learn”.
This rule is not typical of halakha, which does not generally have systems for triaging mitzvah observance based on quality of performance.[3] There is no halakha which states, for example, that one must forgo their own opportunity to pray if doing so will allow their friend to pray with more devotion. The notion that higher-quality Torah study takes precedence indicates that to an extent, talmud Torah is telos-oriented; it is a mitzvah where the quality of the outcome directly factors into the conditions around its fulfilment. In effect, one’s obligation to learn and one’s obligation to ensure that his son learns are not actually two separate obligations, but rather two manifestations of a commitment and obligation to ensure the perpetuation of the corpus of Torah.
There is an important caveat to this triage. Rambam (ibid.) in codifying this Gemara, adds the following: “even though his son precedes him, he may not neglect personal study, since just as there is an obligation to to teach his son, so is there an obligation to teach himself”. The formulation “lilameid es atzmo” – to teach himself – is striking; it reflects the idea we have been developing, that one’s obligation to study Torah is not primarily a personal obligation, bein adam l’atzmo, but merely the highest priority in a list of those one is required ‘lilameid.’ At the same time, this halakha asserts that there is a unique requirement regarding one’s own study of Torah that is not fulfilled by merely ensuring that one’s children learn. The phrase ‘lo yivatel hu’ invokes shades of a more devotional form of learning, a study that is concerned not primarily with content, but with the act of study itself. Even a person who is not primarily occupied with study and knowledge of Torah, a person who fulfills his obligation to perpetuate God’s word by sponsoring the study of others, must engage in personal study, if for no other reason than to not cease from the act of Torah study.
Let us reexamine our two sources in Talmud Bavli from before. The section in Menachot which discusses the bare-minimum requirement of talmud Torah draws on the aforementioned verse of lo yamush – the imperative for the words of Torah to not leave our mouths. The expression found in this verse is not directing us to gain knowledge of Torah per se; it is rather an exhortation towards constant and consistent study. This verse is not the source for the obligation to study Torah. What we have here is a statement qualifying the minimal personal involvement one must have in Torah study – that is, the minimum time commitment necessary to fulfil one’s individual requirement to ‘teach’ Torah to themself.[4] The verse here expresses the Rambam’s value of lo yivatel hu; not the sum total of one’s obligation to the corpus of Torah, but rather the study regimen to ensure personal commitment to the project of Torah study. The imperative to not let the words of Torah “cease from your mouth” reflects Torah as a devotional exercise, inspiring one’s personal religious life and ensuring fidelity to the communal duty of talmud Torah.
R. Shimon b. Yochai indeed advocates for radical commitment to Torah on the part of those who study it, and he recognizes that this is not a lifestyle which is feasible for everyone. His ideal is necessary for the upkeep of the discipline on the whole – Torah mah tehei ale’ah, what will become of Torah? However, even those who do not express their devotion to Torah by attempting to master the corpus on their own are not free to shirk its study entirely. They must engage in Torah at least twice-daily as a means of maintaining an individual connection and sense of duty to the project.
III.
Selfless devotion to Torah study is far from an innovative concept in Jewish thought. In many places, the Sages praise the study of ‘torah lishmah’, Torah studied for its own sake[5]. The exact implications of this phrase, and consequently the value of this kind of study, became the subject of a major ideological battle between the Hasidic movement and the Mitnagdim in the late 18th century. R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi, in his Sefer HaTanya (chap. 5) describes a conception of Torah Lishmah which is primarily devotional, seeing the act of learning as a communion and melding with the thoughts of God Himself. As such, the word “lishmah” takes on the meaning “for the sake of God”, or more accurately “for the sake of connection to God.” The value of Torah Lishmah is here located primarily in the act of study itself, and in the unique religious experience which proper study free of self-interest can engender.[6]
This idea of R. Shneur Zalman and the Hasidim was fiercely disputed by R. Chaim of Volozhin in his work Nefesh Hachayim. The last section of this work, which lays out R. Chaim’s extensive metaphysical and Kabbalistic system for understanding Rabbinic Judaism, focuses on the primacy of Talmud Torah, and particularly the importance of Torah Lishmah. R. Chaim draws on the commentary of the Rosh to Nedarim 62a, on the statement of R. Eliezer b. Tzadok “do things [ie. the mitzvos] for the sake of their Creator, and speak about them for their own sake.” Rosh comments:
Speak about them for their own sake: all your speech and deliberation in words of Torah should be for the sake of Torah, in order to know and understand, and to add debate and practical lessons; not to antagonize or lord over others.
R. Chaim takes this idea as the central motivating factor behind talmud Torah, to the exclusion of all else. Citing this comment of the Rosh, he writes (Nefesh HaChayim 4:2) “the true nature of lishmah in this context is to study Torah for the sake of Torah”… as the language implies that the study is done not for the sake of God, but for the sake of the Torah itself.
For R. Chaim, intellectual comprehension of Torah is an end unto itself, and study of Torah should be treated primarily as a means to perpetuation of the system. Any personal benefits, whether spiritual or intellectual, are tangential to the main focus of the study and should be treated as such. It seems R. Chaim does not even view the study of Torah as a particularly potent method for achieving a devotional religious experience; in a shocking passage, he disparages study of laws such as k’lalei migu, rules which deal with determining whether a given claim made in court is truthful or not, as being actively harmful towards achieving true d’veikut, which for him requires a certain amount of separation from the world which cannot coexist with true Torah study.[7] As far as R. Chaim is concerned, any d’veikut which could be achieved through the study of Torah could be achieved by repeatedly reviewing the same chapter of mishnah; the spiritual edification which may emerge from learning is completely divorced from the intellectual experience surrounding the content, and therefore cannot be the motivating factor behind the study of Torah.[8]
R. Chaim’s conception of Torah Lishmah maps neatly onto the idea we have been developing of talmud Torah as a responsibility to uphold a corpus. However, as R. Chaim himself acknowledges at many points, this is not the end of the story when it comes to Torah study. Experientially, we do not tend to engage with talmud Torah as a dispassionate academic responsibility. Torah means much more to us on an individual level – it is a means of spiritual edification, an intellectual exercise, and depending on one’s religious orientation, a metaphysical necessity for holding up the universe. Some amount of talmud Torah is also a practical prerequisite for halakhic observance. As we have seen, these factors do not relate to the essential obligation of Talmud Torah as expressed in the halakha, but many rabbinic statements affirm these factors as integral to the experience and value of Torah.[9] In theory, we could suffice to leave these factors as marginal benefits adjacent to the essential obligation of learning and teaching Torah. It would, however, be an impoverished account of the multifaceted nature of what Torah study is.[10]
IV.
There is another integral aspect of R. Chaim’s thought around Torah which is necessary for reckoning with the implications of his position. Following in (and perhaps innovating upon) the Kabbalistic tradition, R. Chaim conceives of Torah as reflecting the essence of God; as Rabbi Norman Lamm puts it, “R. Hayyim hypostatizes Torah: it is a primordial, timeless organic entity. Its mundane laws are but an outward shell which enclose an inner Torah which derives from the very highest supramundane sources. This essential Torah is independent of man and his society, for it consists of the purest divine mysteries.”[11] Torah is the ultimate truth for R. Chaim in an unproblematic sense – there is a strictly defined set of information which must be studied and taught, and the awareness and promulgation of this corpus is the primary responsibility of one who studies Torah.[12] The texts as we have them are, quite simply, emanations of a whole and complete Divine truth. The project of one who learns Torah is simply to study them and understand them accurately.
In spite of the grandiose nature of claims surrounding the ultimate truth of Torah, defining what exactly “Torah” comprises can be a deceptively simple task. R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi in his Shulchan Aruch HaRav (Yoreh De’ah 245:2) outlines a detailed life-long program of learning which includes a list of the material one must master in order to fulfil their obligation to learn “kol haTorah kulah” – it includes Tanakh, Talmud Bavli and Yerushalmi, Mekhilta, Sifrei, Sifra, Tosefta, all “midreshei rabboteinu”, including but not limited to Tanchuma and Pesikta, as well as the various poskim relevant for practical halakha, and the foundational texts of kabbalah.[13] But of course, any list which assumes a degree of clear canonicity will begin to break down when we get into the nitty-gritty details. Are books of mussar such as Mesilat Yesharim of Ramchal considered to be Torah? If so, what of secular works of ethics? Much of Rambam’s writings are directly pulled from Aristotelian thought – should we allow Hilkhot Yesodei HaTorah or Hilkhot De’ot to remain part of our pristine Torah corpus? If so, what of Aristotle himself? Should we include works about biblical grammar or rabbinic history which are necessary for any real understanding of the primary texts? Or writing and analyzing piyyutim, which so many medieval talmidei chachamim made their life’s work? Much effort has been invested in abstract or theoretical analysis of halakha, or attempts to explicate minority opinions, or constructing conceptual superstructures atop the framework of halakha – are these too, considered Torah?[14]
The most common response to this line of inquiry is a sort of abdication; ‘I may not be able to define Torah precisely, but I know it when I see it’. To an extent, Torah is constructed by the conversation which develops around it – areas of halakha and thought are developed and expanded only to the extent that scholars of Torah engage with them seriously and produce serious scholarship reckoning with them. We may be best suited with an approach to Torah that aligns with Wittgensteinian ‘language games’ – we cannot give a precise definition of ‘Torah’, but we know how it is used in conversation and we are comfortable making reference to it. As such, Torah is necessarily a constructed category of a community – it is defined by Jews and how they engage with their shared heritage, by the intellectual roads they pave in conversation with one another and with the tradition. R. Yehoshua’s famous cry of Lo Bashamayim Hi – the Torah is not in Heaven – rings true here in its most literal sense. R. Chaim’s pristine ideal Torah is simply not how we experience Torah – we are necessarily involved in litigating what is and is not Torah, with defining the bounds of the discussion, any time we enter the proverbial walls of the Beit Midrash[15].
This is the end result of thinking about Torah as a communal responsibility; the obligation to learn and to teach, to care about Torah and feel a responsibility for maintaining Torah, is manifest here to its fullest extent. The community is not simply responsible for maintaining Torah; to an extent, the community creates Torah. It is impossible to study Torah alone in a cave because doing so requires isolation from the conversation, from the living dialogue in which worlds are created and destroyed, and in which Torah is constantly being reformulated anew each day. We have no Torah outside of the Torah we share with one another, and it is fealty to this grand project which true Torah Lishmah demands of us.
[1] For a parallel analysis, see R. Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, Me’orot HaRambam, Hilkhot Talmud Torah 1:1
[2] See for example Sanhedrin 19b and Yevamot 62b. The Talmud compares and contrasts one’s obligations to their teacher versus their father in many other place; eg. Horayot 13a, Kiddushin 33b.
[3] The question of whether one is obligated to prioritize their own mitzvah fulfillment over someone else’s is the subject of some debate among the Acharonim; see for example Igrot Moshe, Even Ha’Ezer 4:26 & Minchat Asher Haggadah Shel Pesach 12. The central question would seem to be whether we adopt an ends-oriented approach to mitzvot; that is, whether we are concerned with maximizing the ultimate mitzvah-fulfilment rather than any individual’s personal action. Certainly with regards to aveirot, the rule is that one need not violate a small sin in order to save another from a greater violation (Shabbat 4a). However, if one were to adopt the approach that one is not required to ensure he fulfils his own mitzvos first, we could reasonably interpret this halakha as saying that one may choose to learn Torah rather than teach his son as long as they are of equal level, not that one must do so (note that R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi in Shulchan Aruch HaRav Y.D. 245 rejects this interpretation, and takes for granted that one must generally prioritize their own mitzvah observance). However, even if this were the case, this gemara would still be unique inasmuch as it places value on the quality of the mitzvah being done; that is, the question of triaging who gets the opportunity to study Torah is directly related to whose learning will be of a higher caliber. This sort of utilitarian calculus is unique to the mitzvah of talmud Torah. (See also the commentary of Chatam Sofer to Leviticus 19:18).
[4] For parallel instances of Torah study as a fixture of practice rather than an academic pursuit, see Chiddushei HaRitva to Nedarim 8a & Bava Kamma 82a; Rosh Berakhot 7:20 & Chagigah 3a. This line of thinking may be what lies behind the position of many Ashkenazi poskim, beginning with Rabbeinu Tam (cited in Tosafot to Rosh HaShanah 33a s.v. Ha; see in particular the formulation of the Rosh in Berakhot 7:20 & the Meiri in Beit HaBechirah Megillah 24a) that the public reading of the Torah is not done in fulfillment of the mitzvah of talmud Torah, but as a fulfilment of shemiyat haTorah, hearing the Torah read publicly – in other words, to encourage consistent engagement with the Torah as a matter of communal practice.
[5] See Avot 6:1; B. Sukkah 49b; Y. Chagiga 1:7; as well as many others.
[6] This conception also emerges in R. Shneur Zalman’s ruling in his Shulchan Aruch HaRav (Hilkhot Talmud Torah 2:13) that one one who reads Torah Shebichtav without understanding what he is saying fulfills the mitzvah of talmud Torah. While R. Shneur Zalman does not allow this for Torah She’Baal Peh (based on Magen Avraham to Orach Chayim 50), this is because he identifies the experiential and devotional value of this learning in the cognitive experience which it entails, which is impossible without understanding what one is saying; fundamentally, however, the value lies in the act of learning rather than the outcome. See also Shu”t Yabia Omer 1:26 for an extended discussion of his ruling, and Sefer Likkutei Amarim of the Chafetz Chaim, chap. 5., for an opposing view.)
[7] Contrast with the following quote from R. Yaakov Emden, quoted by Elisha Anscelowitz in Talmud Lomar the Ethical: A Return to the Original Stamma, Journal of Textual Reasoning 15:1 (March 2024):
“How can even an intelligent youngster – who cannot yet perceive the issues that sexual intercourse raises – learn the laws of marriage and incest, of betrothals, of marriage contracts and divorce? How can a child – who has not yet negotiated over money, has not felt the difficulty of earning enough for sustenance, and has not experienced the desire for money as a means to acquire recognition and honor or to acquire power over others – learn civil law which deals with the deceit and trickery that people invent out of greed?”
[8] See Sukkah 49b, where the study of Torah lishmah is identified with Torah shel chessed, Torah of kindness. Study of Torah for the sake of Torah is definitionally a disinterested, selfless act performed for the sake of something greater than oneself.
[9] Regarding talmud Torah as a prerequisite for practice, see for example Kiddushin 40b “gadol talmud, shemeivi lidei ma’aseh” – great is study, for it leads to practice. Regarding Torah as a metaphysical necessity for the world’s existence, see Avot 1:2, Pesachim 68b, Sanhedrin 26b. Regarding the value of purely theoretical Torah study, see Sanhedrin 71a. These are just a smattering of the myriad Rabbinic texts which praise these aspects of Torah.
[10] To be sure, many halakhic texts adopt broader approaches in understanding the obligation of talmud Torah. Regarding the act of Torah study as something essentially valuable, see the discussion of R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi’s approach in footnote 5. Regarding the experiential cognitive enjoyment which Talmud Torah entails, see the commentary of R. Avraham Min HaHar to Nedarim 48a, who writes that the general principle of mitzvot lav leihanot nitnu (mitzvot were not given for enjoyment) does not apply to talmud Torah, as the essential obligation is to enjoy the process of study. (See also the comments of R. Avraham Bornsztain in the introduction to his work Eglai Tal.)
Of particular note is the approach of various rishonim, most notably R. Moshe of Coucy in his Sefer HaMitzvot HaGadol (SeMag), who argue that an essential aspect of talmud Torah is to learn the halakhot of mitzvot which one is obligated to perform. This position is highly relevant because of its ramifications for the halakhic discussion around women’s talmud Torah – SeMag is of the opinion that women are fully obligated in talmud Torah regarding the mitzvot which are relevant to them, and that this is not merely hekhsher mitzvah, a preparation for the mitzvah being studied, but a fulfilment of the obligation to learn Torah. This view is quoted in Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayim 47:14 to obligate women to recite birkhot haTorah in the morning, given that they are obligated in this aspect of talmud Torah. Given the approach we have laid out from Rambam and others, this ruling may be subject to some debate. (It is worth noting that Biur HaGra ad. loc. points out that women may recite birkhot haTorah in accordance with the general Ashkenazic view that berakhot may be recited on mitzvot which one volunteers to perform).
[11] Norman Lamm, Torah For Torah’s Sake, Ktav, 1989, 103.
[12] This conception of Torah may be what lies behind the tendency of the Vilna Gaon (whose primary student was R. Chaim) and his school to eschew pilpul and creative reinterpretation in favor of dedicated attempts to get to the simplest understanding of an issue (see the introduction of the Gaon’s sons to his commentary to Shulchan Aruch Orach Chayim). If Torah study is an attempt to access ultimate truth, rather than a creative exercise of interpretation, then one cannot justify mental acrobatics when approaching texts.
[13] For a more extensive treatment of various attempts to define a strict canon of Torah, see R. Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, Meorot HaRambam, Nispach 1 Kuntris Mitzvat Yediyat HaTorah.
[14] See Berakhot 11b, where the sugya seems to develop a broader taxonomy of Torah including mikra, mishnah, midrash, and talmud. See specifically the comments of Rashi ad. Loc. s.v. af letalmud, which identifies Torah with “hora’ah”, and the comments of Talmidei Rabeinu Yonah to Ri”f Berakhot 5b.
[15] In the battle between R. Eliezer b. Horkinus and R. Yehoshua in Bava Metzia 59b, the walls of the beit midrash begin to crumble, and remain standing only due to the honor of R. Yehoshua. The collapse of any idealized corpus of Torah threatens to end the discipline entirely, but it remains alive by virtue of those who study it and keep the dialogue going.








Site Operations and Technology by The Berman Consulting Group.