10 Things I’m Glad I Learned at Hebrew School (Part 1: 1-5)

There are many things I learned in Hebrew school that no longer apply to my life, or that I choose, wilfully, to reject. I can no longer abide some Jewish thought about the differences between men and women, or between Jews and non-Jews, or between heterosexual monogamists and those of other orientations and inclinations. I’m not sure I can believe in the vengeful, particular God of our Torah, Navi, and Dinim classes or the attitude toward Israeli politics we learned in Jewish History.

But just as growing means examining and abandoning ideas my new self finds wanting, it also means dusting off and freshly appraising ideas that stand my personal test of time and circumstance.

I’m grateful to Hebrew school for a lot of reasons. No matter the diversity among Jews, it still means a lot to spend your childhood mainly within a community that celebrates the same holidays as you do. Whether or not I agree with every part of Judaism, it’s important to know it and understand it — embracing my heritage means having an informed choice of what parts of it to accept.

But in more tangible terms, here are 10 things I learned in Hebrew school that changed my life, inside and outside the Jewish community, for the better:

1. Close reading is a valuable way to analyse a text.

As anyone who’s studied Torah knows, traditional Jewish thought pores over every word of the text, looking for the intent behind particular vocabulary or syntax. It isolates small choices by the writer and explains them in terms of authorial intent, drawing wider lessons.

We used to make fun of this (“‘And the Lord spake unto Moses…’ Well, obviously from the word ‘spake,’ which sounds like ‘spike,’ we see you’re not allowed to put alcohol into drinks, and ‘unto‘ means the rule only applies on the second day of the week…”), but the basic assumption has served me well: every word and phrase in a text reflects some authorial choice, conscious or not. In the humanities I’ve studied, such as theatre, literature, and history, this is a valuable way of interpreting a source.

2. It’s always OK to ask a question.

When I first attended public high school, I was amazed by how seldom other students seemed to ask questions challenging the teachers. The fact that I was used to it speaks in part to the not-exactly-public-school standard of discipline in our small, private academy, but also to the Jewish tradition of dialogue and debate.

Almost every Jewish law comes with reasoning: we light the Shabbat candles because of this. We eat matzah on Passover because of that. There have to be precisely this many glasses of wine because of this other thing.

Most also come with debates. Sometimes, as on Pesach (Passover), the debates are made part of the liturgy. Other times, scratch the surface of a law, and you’ll find a few different rabbinical opinions.

Sometimes, this can feel ridiculous (for example, check out the hashtag #hilchoschristmas for a humorous selection of what Christmas celebrations would look like if prescribed in the rabbinical tradition). But growing up in a culture of questioning and debate certainly played a part in never thinking twice about putting up my hand and (politely) challenging what I’m taught.

3. It takes an extraordinary person to be anti-racist in a racist society.

For better or worse, the majority of my education in Jewish history dealt with the Holocaust and the period of time before and after. Because of the way we were taught, I’m always surprised to find people who believe the Nazis were inhuman monsters who committed atrocities because they were naturally evil.

The Nazis did inhuman, evil things: I agree with that. But a lot of our study of the Holocaust focussed on how these terrible things could happen because Hitler roused not only the few sadistic or raving anti-Semitic natural “monsters” but persuaded the majority of the populations of most of the countries under Nazi rule to keep their heads down and go with the flow.

Because it’s hard to risk not just your life but your family’s lives to help strangers, even if it’s the right thing to do. Especially if it means choosing between violence that touches you personally and violence that doesn’t. Especially if the violence against others becomes normalized and tied to challenging genuine injustices (such as treaty-mandated poverty) that hurt you.

What is truly extraordinary is the courage of those otherwise regular people who did resist the Nazi regime, despite all the factors weighted against them.

4. “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” (Hillel, qtd. in Pirkei Avos 1:14)

Rabbi Hillel and my psychotherapist agree: only you can be responsible for you.

You are the one who gets to decide if you are happy. You are the one who can advocate for what you need. You are the one who gets to speak up if you aren’t happy. You are the one who has to believe you are capable of being better than you are. No one else can do it for you.

If you give up on yourself as a valuable, worthy, good human being, no one else can restore you.

5. “If not now, when?” (Hillel, qtd. in Pirkei Avos 1:14)

That Rabbi Hillel. Such a noodge.

When I finally decided to focus on my writing, these were the words that floated through my brain. It’s so easy to put off what we really want — or need — for later, because it’s difficult or unpalatable or scary. Or we’re tired. Or deserve a chance to relax.

Hillel isn’t talking specifically about my career, though. He’s talking mainly about doing what’s right, and sometimes I need that voice: I’ll never reach my utopian-millionaire imaginary self, so I’d better give to charity now. If I wait until it’s a good time to do something nice for someone, I’ll wait forever.

Other times, I need that voice for big decisions: if I don’t dedicate myself to my writing now, ask out my crush, commit to a new activity — when will I make those choices that allow me to be happier?

Still other times, I need it for little things. If I don’t do the dishes now, when will I do them? If I leave my grading for tomorrow, how many tomorrows will it take?

Thanks for keeping me productive and actively responsible, Rabbi.

Yes, Hebrew school also taught me how to count — tune your internets back in next week for items 6-10!

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