Doing Talmud: An Ethnographic Study in a Religious High School in Israel

Thesis submitted for the degree of

“Doctor of Philosophy”

by

Aliza Segal

Submitted to the Senate of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem

May 2011

Iyyar 5771

This work was carried out under the supervision of:

Prof. Marc Hirshman

Dr. Zvi Bekerman Acknowledgements

If an apt metaphor for the completion of a dissertation is the birthing of a child, then indeed it takes a village to write a dissertation. I am fortunate that my village is populated with insightful, supportive and sometimes even heroic people, who have made the experience not only possible but also enriching and enjoyable. My debt of gratitude to these villagers looms large, and I would like to offer a few small words of thanks.

To my advisors, Dr. Zvi Bekerman and Professor Menachem (Marc)

Hirshman, for their generosity with time, insight, expertise, and caring. I have been working with Zvi since my MA thesis, and he has shaped my world view not only as a researcher but also as an individual. His astute and lightening-speed comments on everything I have ever sent him to read have pushed me forwards at every stage of my work, and it is with great joy that I note that I have never left his office without something new to read. Menachem has brought his keen eye and sharp wit to the project, and from the beginning has been able to see the end. His attention to the relationship between structure and content has informed my work as both a writer and a reader. I additionally thank the faculty of the Melton Centre for Jewish Education for all that I have learned from them, and especially Dr. Howard Deitcher and Dr.

Alex Pomson for being tremendously supportive and helpful. My dissertation committee, comprised of Professor Philip Wexler, Professor Vered Noam, and

Professor Baruch Schwarz, assisted in shaping avenues for exploration, and Professor

Schwarz has been particularly helpful in the later phases of the work as well. Special thanks to my dear friends, Dr. Adina Moshavi and Dr. Yoel Finkelman, who willingly

– and sometimes unwittingly – served as consultants in their own field of expertise.

i To the students, teachers, and administrators of the pseudonymous Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam, and especially to Rav Uzi and his class. They allowed me into their world and shared with me their thoughts, activities and experiences so that I and others could learn. I will always think of them with respect and affection, even as they may remember me as the woman with the recording equipment and lots of questions who planted herself in their class.

To the Canadian Friends of Hebrew University, the Network for Research in

Jewish Education, the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture, and the Mandel

Leadership Institute, in appreciation of their material support of this project. The

Mandel Leadership Institute additionally provided, during the final and crucial year of writing, an academic home that has been enriching beyond measure. The faculty coordinators of the Scholars in Education program, Professor Mordecai Nissan and

Dr. Iris Tabak, have asked challenging questions while always looking out for our interests, and have proven worthy role models in so many ways. The Mandel Institute faculty and visiting scholars provided an expansive and rich view of what it means to conduct research in education, and I am particularly thankful to Professor Lee

Shulman, Professor Sam Wineburg, and Professor Sharon Feiman-Nemser for the interest they have taken in me and my work. My colleagues at Mandel, Galit Caduri,

Oren Ergas, and Einat Heyd-Metzuyanim, know more about my work than they care to and impacted upon it more than they know, and suffused our working group with the best possible combination of friendship and rigor.

Finally, to my family, who have not only tolerated but also nourished me and this project from the beginning. My father-in-law, Robert Segal, with his wife Tzivi, has encouraged my every personal and intellectual undertaking, and together with my late mother-in-law, Susan Segal, has modeled what it means to be a lifelong learner.

ii My father, Mark Levin, has long stimulated and supported my interest in text and

Jewish community, and directly made this work possible by spending many hours each week with his grandchildren. My mother, Harriet Levin, in her belief that access to knowledge is paramount, has always fostered my intellectual pursuits, and has also provided, among countless other things large and small, an ear and a shoulder for me whenever I need them.

To Michael, whose belief in me has resulted in this dissertation. His love, partnership, and friendship form the wellspring of my village; that he is an accomplished scholar who is also a fantastic father to our children adds to the vitality of this water. The smallest inhabitants of the village, our sons Amichai, Elyashiv,

Sariel and Ori, give it the light and the life that make it all worthwhile – despite their certainty that their mother records and analyzes everything they say.

Blessed is the One who has given me life, sustained me, and enabled me to reach this day.

Aliza Segal Jerusalem May 2011 Iyyar 5771

iii Table of Contents

Section I: Introduction

Preface 1

Overview 2

Chapter 1: Review of the Literature 6

1.1 Talmud education: Background and rationale for the study 6

1.2 Talmud and its study 11

1.3 Schooling and learning 16

1.4 Ethnographic studies of religious schools 23

1.5 Classroom discourse 26

1.6 Havruta paired learning 31

Chapter 2: Research Setting 34

2.1 Context: Israeli school system 34

2.2 School population and structures 35

2.3 School ethos 38

Chapter 3: Research Methods 42

3.1 Methodology 42

3.2 Data collection 43

3.3 Access: Initial and ongoing 46

3.4 Researcher positioning 48

Section II: The Beit Midrash: House of Study, House of Prayer

Introduction: “Torah and prayer. It comes together.” 50

Chapter 4: House of Prayer: “He’s within it.” 54

4.1 Spontaneous Prayer, Scripted Prayer 55 4.2 Scripted and Sacred: “What there is to say” 56

4.3 Boundary violations through prayer 62

4.4 Prayer as performative ritual 67

Chapter 5: House of Study: “A learning Jew” 73

5.1 Sustained activity in the Sacred Space: “In my spare time I learn…” 73

5.2 Lernen with schooling structures: Seder halakhah and night seder 75

5.3 Night Seder: “You sit learn.” 76

5.4 Peer mentoring: “I have a „freshie‟” 84

5.5 Morning Seder: Yeshivah confronts School 87

5.6 Sacred Time: Structure from without 90

5.7 Sacred Space: The “Oitser” 93

5.8 Students and teachers: “Most of the work, we do in seder.” 100

5.9 Making choices: “Seder…I do make sure to come.” 104

5.10 Challenges: “To take advantage of this seder” 109

5.11 Sleep at the Yeshivah: “Checking out” 112

Chapter 6: Havruta Learning: “Kind of the best way to do that” 122

6.1 Triads and Tribulations: Getting settled and Semiotics 123

6.2 What‟s in a Havruta: “To also listen and learn” 125

6.3 Students on Havruta: "What we want to learn today" 131

6.4 Modes of Participation: An analytical model 140

6.5 Data Collection and Selection: “A Constant Hubbub” 142

6.6 Havruta Sessions Observed: “There's something to it” 144

6.7 Baseline Beit Midrash Activity: Introducing Aharon and Gavriel 148

6.8 Instructions for Seder: “Today we need to read from there” 151

6.9 Session introduction: Text and Turn-taking 157 6.10 Segment Borders: “Alright. Come and hear…” 160

6.11 Discourse Markers, Citation, Pronouns, Code-switching and

Recontextualization: “It doesn‟t have to be a beit kenesset” 166

6.12 The Havruta Session: Reading Practices, Aims and Discourses 178

6.13 Lernen as Ritual: Epistemic Appropriation 201

The Beit Midrash: Conclusions 204

Section III: The Classroom: Interpretation and Identities

Introduction: From Beit Midrash to Classroom 209

Chapter 7: Constructing the Classroom: “You’re participating in something” 210

7.1 Architectonic Elements: “I would have three classrooms” 210

7.2 The Whiteboard: Lecture and haburah 218

7.3 Student participation: “What really changes everything is seder” 222

7.4 Role of the teacher: “There are all different types of shiurim” 224

7.5 Non-participation: “In class it‟s very limiting” 230

7.6 Interpretive tradition: “He doesn‟t agree with Rashi” 235

Chapter 8: The Class Session: Discursive practices and construction of

Discourse(s) 242

8.1 Students in the Classroom: Havruta to Haburah 243

8.2 Worksheet: A Teacher Reworking 246

8.3 Use of Pronouns in the Classroom: Multivocality and Presentizing 251

8.4 IRE Recitation Sequences: Personal Apprenticeship and Teacher

Control 260

8.5 Class Discussions: Speaking Rights and Knowledge Sources 267 8.6 Normative Halakhah in the Classroom Discourse: Limited Flexibility 291

The Classroom: Conclusions 299

Section IV: Conclusions

Chapter 9: Talmud Study as Socialization at Darkhei Noam 303

9.1 Review of the findings and analysis 304

9.2 Discussion 308

9.3 Authority, autonomy and socialization: Proposing a model 313

9.4 Limitations of this study 317

9.5 Implications & directions for further research 320

Works Cited 325

Appendices

Appendix A: Transliteration Conventions 346

Appendix B: Talmud Page 347

Appendix C: Havruta Session Transcript 348

Appendix D: Class Session Transcript 365

א Hebrew Abstract

Section I. Introduction

Preface

As I first wended my way to Yeshivat Darkhei Noam 1 on a warm but breezy day in September 2008, I was struck by a sense of openness. The narrow road led me through a small rural town comprised of low buildings interspersed with grassy spaces. Reaching a bend in the road and certain that I had lost my way, I pulled over and asked a teenager for directions to the Yeshivah. He informed me I was already there.

Sure enough, the area on either side of the road was dotted with little buildings, which I came to know as dormitories and classrooms along with a small office complex. The sense of open space was combined with one of movement.

People were crisscrossing the road, mostly by foot but also on a bicycle or two. The walkers, many sporting sandals, with or without socks, seemed to bounce along, shirt tails, tzitzit ritual fringes and in many cases curly pe'ot sidelocks swinging in the air.

There was fluidity to this movement, this openness. The participants were well-rehearsed actors on a stage that belonged to them. At the same time, there was a sense of purpose, the hand of an unseen director. As I drew closer to the largest building on the campus, I discovered that all of the movement, fluid and open though it seemed, led in the same direction: to the beit midrash ("House of Study").

This initial experience provided a metaphor that I revisited on many occasions during my field research at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. The people were open towards me, granting me access to an area of their lives that many others had denied me, as a researcher and as a woman. Their enactment of Talmud study seemed to carry with it a certain fluidity and openness as well, as the discussion moved in directions stage-

1 managed by the teacher more than directed by him. So, too, was their view of the world, accessing knowledge and experiences wherever they could, through the lens of an intensely personal and ever-developing relationship with God, with others, and with self. Yet at times I was struck by the extent to which the fluid movement all led in the same direction.

Overview

This study of Talmud activity at the pseudonymous Yeshivat Darkhei Noam presents a window into the contentious yet under-studied field of Talmud Education, offering insights for that area and for the broader fields of Jewish Education in particular and Religious Education in general. At the same time, it is an ethnographic account of the enactment of a disciplinary community of practice within a schooling setting. What follows is a story of culturally situated reading practices and negotiation of identity formation via text study. This story should be accessible to anyone interested in independent student learning; authentic disciplinary practices in a schooling context; classroom discourse; and issues related to autonomy and the regulation of authority. In order to understand, develop, and then tell this story – and because I believe this is the job of the ethnographer – I draw upon many small pieces of life, of activity, surrounding Talmud study at the school, exploring their fine- grained texture as I weave the larger tapestry. Because the research setting is rife with structures and symbols that may be unfamiliar to many readers, I begin by offering a brief overview to the organization and substance of this work.

Talmud activity, which occupies a morning block of four hours every day, takes place in two primary spaces at the research setting, a religious boys’ high school in Israel: the beit midrash study hall and the classroom. In the former, students learn

1 A pseudonym, as are all personal names used in this work.

2 independently in pairs, with minimal teacher involvement; the latter is a conventional classroom with some non-traditional features. I have divided the body of this work according to this spatial compartmentalization, with each section culminating in the close analysis of a self-contained discursive event, namely a havruta paired learning session in the beit midrash (Chapter 6) and a Talmud lesson in the classroom (Chapter

8). This analysis builds upon insights gleaned from interview data and observations in each arena (Chapters 5 & 7); the beit midrash section additionally features a chapter on prayer (Chapter 4), which functions to introduce the setting and develop key concepts about speech, ritual, God, prayer, community and study as they are enacted by the students.

The beit midrash features a limited but vibrant enactment of a community of practice in which the students are legitimate participants in the activity of Talmud study. Constructed as a group of practices in which the students experience high levels of autonomy and are bearers of epistemic authority, the beit midrash activity in many ways functions as an idealized enactment of Talmud study. The study is process-oriented and valued as a worthy activity, devoid of instrumental aims. It is not without its challenges, as the students and teacher readily attest, but the beit midrash is the celebrated hub of the activity which the students value and in which they participate. The complexity of the beit midrash and its centrality to the endeavor earn it primacy of place in the school and in this dissertation.

The classroom activity highlights a tension endemic to the disciplinary construction of Talmud, a tension that is blurred in the beit midrash setting but is negotiated through the teacher’s involvement in the classroom. The social construction in the classroom features high levels of student autonomy and agency, against a backdrop of limited teacher control; I have identified several mechanisms

3 that facilitate the enactment of the Talmud community of practice in a classroom context. The disciplinary construction follows this pattern, with the students empowered as interpreters of text and the beit midrash ethos thriving in the classroom. At the same time, however, the teacher models and molds a disciplinary construction whereby the learner is beholden to a tradition of interpretation and has little leeway for innovation.

I suggest that the limited but significant authority-driven aspects of the

Talmud endeavor perform a corrective, or regulatory, function. In as much as cultural reproduction is intrinsic to the schooling endeavor, conservationist and preservationist tendencies facilitate the preparation of citizens to join the society from which they emerge. I further conclude that the socialization function of the dominant autonomy- based discursive construction is to foster an identity of Talmud-learner and recruit the students to the enterprise of cultural production and reproduction via their ongoing participation in the activity of Talmud.

These briefly outlined central ideas are developed throughout the work, via many avenues of exploration, supported by empirical data and drawing upon a necessarily eclectic body of literature. While this work adheres to traditional dissertation structure in that it features an introductory section comprised of Review of the Literature (Chapter 1), Research Setting (Chapter 2), and Research Methods

(Chapter 3), two somewhat less traditional features are worthy of mention. First, as noted below, there is a lot of literature that is cited in the body of the dissertation but not featured in the Review of the Literature, owing to the localized nature of its relevance. Second, and more important, I have eschewed the once-traditional separation of "data" and "analysis," or "findings" and "discussion," in favor of a more integrated approach that better serves the data and the research method. The result is a

4 narrative style that aims both to meet the demands of the research and to induct the reader into the world which I entered in order to provide thick description 2 and render a theory of cultural behavior. 3

2 Geertz 1973 3 Cf. Wolcott 1987

5

Chapter 1: Review of the Literature

1.1 Talmud Education: Background and Rationale for the Study

Talmud, a lynchpin of Orthodox Jewish education for males and a point of significant curricular focus, is also a source of consternation for educators within that system. For several decades there has been a clarion call lamenting low levels of success in the field, touting a lack of success relating more to students' attitudes towards the subject matter than to any measure of performance. Early echoes in Jacob

Katz's (1941-42) and Ephraim Urbach's (1959) work pointing to the difficulty of the subject matter, its irrelevance to the students, and the outmoded pedagogies employed by teachers found further expression following Mordechai Bar-Lev's study (Bar-Lev

& Qedem 1989) in which students in leading religious educational institutions among the National Religious population in Israel ranked Talmud in the lowest two slots of preferred school subjects. Some programs, including not only high schools but also post-high school institutions such as pre-army preparatory yeshivot ( Mekhinot) and even Hesder yeshivot (combining Torah study and army service), have shifted their curricular balance away from Talmud and towards Bible and Jewish Thought. 4

The flood of writings on the teaching of Talmud by scholars, educators, and community leadership has addressed both curricular and pedagogical questions. There is a central curricular divide relating to the abandonment of the traditional Talmud curriculum, in which a tractate, or more frequently a chapter, is studied consecutively

4 Shlomo Fischer (2009), in his sociological work on the religious Zionist community, locates these trends in Talmud education as part of a broader picture of Religious Zionist cultural developments. The generation of the 1990’s and the subsequent decade experiences an embodied, taken-for-granted existence of settlement in Judea and Samaria, viewing themselves as an integral part of the nation. This, according to Fischer, completes the transformation from a Diaspora marginal middleman identity to full national subjecthood. The Talmud study that was appropriate to previous generations is no longer applicable, as national subjecthood demands not intellectualized study that is removed from material existence but a form of study that engages with the intramundane that is part of a national territorial existence. Furthermore, there is concern not only for national engagement with material aspects of life, but also a turn towards individual, personal engagement and identity.

6 from beginning to end, in favor of material deemed in some way more palatable or relevant to today's student. Most noted as a debate between prominent Yeshivah head

Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein and well-known educator Rabbi Yehuda Brandes

(reprinted together in Brandes 2007; Lichtenstein 2007) but finding expression in articles, symposia, position papers, and listserv postings among primarily Modern

Orthodox educators, this curricular deliberation goes to the core of what it means to study Talmud in the contemporary era. Lichtenstein recommends a focus on Talmud- related works such as the Mishnah, upon which Talmudic discussion is based, and

Mishneh Torah, the Law Code written by Maimonides, while others suggest a selective approach to material within the Talmud itself, such as those which speak to issues of values (Rosenak 1986; Berman 1997).

Some of the purists advocate curricula designed to bolster student engagement not through appeals to relevance, but through new avenues of engagement with the traditional Talmudic text. For instance, both Hayman (1997) and Gribetz (1995) discuss ways of bringing academic methods of Talmud study into the high school classroom, while Zisenwine (1989) proposes positioning Talmud within the broader context of a humanities curriculum. Walfish (2003) adopts a dual approach, advocating both a particular methodology, in this case a literary approach, and a values-centered curriculum, arguing that the latter will emerge from the former.

Others maintain that the key to success lies in specific pedagogical tools and applications, such as computers (Levy 1991; Kanarek 2002) and cognitive mapping

(Kanarek 2000).

7

What all of these works, and many more, 5 have in common is that they are prescriptive in nature. There is scant empirical research on the teaching of Talmud in school settings, and even less in religious school settings. Eliram (1999) conducted in- depth interviews with ten Talmud teachers in the State (as opposed to State Religious) education system in Israel in an exploration of their professional narratives. He identifies three teaching models among his group, and asserts the significance of

Talmud-specific "pedagogical content knowledge" (PCK), Shulman’s (1986) term for the specialized knowledge that a teacher of a particular subject area brings to his/her pedagogy. Gillis (2008) presents a short-term study of three Talmud teachers in a non- denominational Jewish school in North America, drawing associations between the teachers’ educational backgrounds in the subject matter and their classroom teaching, also relating to PCK. Similarly, Reiss Medwed (2005) analyzes Talmud teachers in non-Orthodox schools from a narrative inquiry perspective. These studies address attitudes towards and pedagogy of Talmud, but do so from the perspective of teacher knowledge. From the student perspective, Ross (2009) conducted a survey-based study of motivational factors, concluding that motivation for Talmud study is correlated with non-domain specific motivation towards school, and also finding that positive feelings towards the Talmud teacher had a higher incidence than positive feelings towards the Talmud class.

A recent and noteworthy contribution to the field of Talmud education comes in the form of Jon Levisohn's "menu of orientations" to teaching Rabbinic literature

(2010). This menu, comprised of ten "orientations,"6 aims to clarify the ways in which

5Schwartz (2002), drawing upon the writings of theoreticians and practitioners alike, paints with broad strokes approaches to Talmud education in both State and State Religious schools in Israel, and features an extensive bibliography covering historical, philosophical, pedagogical and curricular issues. 6 These orientations are labeled: Torah/instruction, contextual, jurisprudential, halakhic, literary, cultural, historical, beki'ut , interpretive, and skills (Ibid. 42).

8 people "make conceptual sense of the subject (Ibid. 43)" that they teach, uncovering the very underpinnings of the transformation of disciplinary material for teaching. It does not, however, purport to yield understanding about a discipline per se:

"Rabbinic literature" is not a discipline, certainly not in any methodological sense. It is not even a book (like the Bible), and referring to a set of books begs the question of which books are included. What is it, then? As a field of teaching and learning, it is what Scheffler (1968/1989) called a "center of intellectual capacity and interest" (p. 89)—a set of intellectual traditions and cultural practices—that are manifest, in our present historical moment, in these 10 ways. (Levisohn 2010: 43)

By defining the menu items as "a set of intellectual traditions and cultural practices," Levisohn embraces theoretical, prescriptive, and empirical work to exemplify the particular orientations. His rich bibliography is predictably heavier on the first two items than on empirical work, as there is simply not much of the latter in evidence. Like the small sample of empirical work that we have discussed, Levisohn's approach to teaching and learning Rabbinic literature is via teacher knowledge. This systematic work has the potential to influence the field by inviting teachers and teacher educators to consciously orient their practice, and to influence scholarship by providing a prism through which to systematize and conceptualize an under-studied field. 7

There is nonetheless a dearth of empirical study of Talmud education, particularly when it comes to classroom-based studies. In other words, the area of

Talmud education has been declared to be in crisis, and many researchers and practitioners alike have devised means of improving the situation, but when it comes to understanding what is actually happening in the Talmud classroom, the work has simply not been done.

7It has already begun to influence scholarship, as the following issue of the journal in which Levisohn's article appeared was largely devoted to discussion of the orientations (Fagen 2010; Fonrobert 2010;

9

One motivation for the current ethnographic study, then, is to fill a gap in the literature. If no such study has been conducted, then the field certainly offers fertile ground. Beyond the notion of climbing the mountain because it is there, however, I embarked upon the current study in the hope and belief that it would contribute to research in the field of education in at least two ways. The most immediate sphere of influence is Talmud education in particular, and perhaps by extension other aspects of

Jewish or religious education. Developing a vocabulary and a conceptual toolkit to describe and explain what is happening in one classroom provides ways of thinking about how this type of education is being done, and how it can be done better. Beyond the confines of Jewish education, Talmud education provides an example of culturally situated reading practices in a school-based community of practice (CoP) that can shed light on the structures and substance of school as they relate to each other and to the surrounding society. 8

This study began with two broad research questions: (1) How is the discipline of Talmud constructed at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam? (2) What role does this study play in the socialization process taking place at the school? Approaching these questions requires drawing upon diverse bodies of literature, including but not limited to those dealing with: religious education; classroom discourse; and Talmud study. Similarly, the work is informed by social theories of learning and by a particular approach to the relationship between schooling and society. The traditional "Review of the Literature" therefore includes these arenas as they relate to the current study. However, this chapter includes only the issues that are relevant to a sizeable swath of this work.

Many other empirical, methodological, and theoretical studies are integrated

Gillis 2010; Goldberg 2010; Gutoff 2010; Kanarek 2010; Lehman 2010; Zisenwine 2010), and the issue after that featured Levisohn's response (Levisohn 2010a). 8These concepts will be further elaborated in the coming sections.

10 throughout the body of the dissertation (Chapters 4-8), at their places of localized relevance.

1.2 Talmud and its study

The Talmud,9 as the term is used normatively (Schiffman 2005 :3), is comprised of the body of Tannaitic work known as the Mishnah, redacted by Judah haNassi circa 200 C.E., and the body of Amoraic literature itself referred to as the

Talmud (Palestinian/Jerusalem and Babylonian, closed in the fifth and sixth centuries, respectively), or as the gemara . The Babylonian Talmud attained a hegemonic position over the Jerusalem Talmud, and remains the primary source of law and central object of study for religious Jewish communities the world over. Lawrence

Schiffman (2005: 17-18) attributes this ascendency to several causes, among them a redactional process making that text easier to read. 10 The Babylonian Talmud is structured using three primary elements: Amoraic comments to the Mishnah; citation of Tannaitic statements known as beraitot ;11 and the anonymous redactional layer, augmented by the work of the savoraim that continued into the seventh century.

Known as the Oral Law, as opposed to the Biblical Written Law, and committing to writing texts that were initially transmitted orally, the Talmud 12 is a multivocal text that interweaves voices and arguments in a manner that can make the flow difficult to follow. Haym Soloveitchik (2005: 37), discussing the need filled by

9 See Schiffman 2005 for a discussion of the processes and stages in which the Oral Law was written. For an overview of the Babylonian Talmud, see Havlin 1988, Berkovitz 1972. For a recent exposition of the Rabbinic culture of text study and education, see Hirshman 2009. 10 The other reasons cited are: (a) halakhic preference for later sources that are perceived as drawing upon earlier sources (despite the fact that the redactors of the Babylonian Talmud did not necessarily have access to the Jerusalem Talmud), and (b) the historical ascendency of the Babylonian rabbinic authorities. 11 Some Tannaitic traditions that were not included in the Mishnah were collected one generation later into the Tosefta . Schiffman (2005 :11) explains that "many of the traditions included in the Tosefta and the tannaitic midrashim found their way in parallel versions into the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmuds," where they are known as beraitot . 12 I will use the term "Talmud" to refer to the Babylonian Talmud, unless otherwise indicated.

11 medieval interpreter Rashi's line by line commentary, writes: "the Talmud is, as it were, a 'telegramatic' text, the main points are stated, but the flow, the linkage of the various points, is left up to the reader to reconstruct." The text is written in Hebrew and Aramaic, and is traditionally studied from a volume providing no vocalization or punctuation. 13 While the difficulties of reading and understanding the Talmudic text have in the Modern era (from the nineteenth century until the present day) spawned a series of translations and alternative layouts, 14 the Vilna edition remains the gold standard in the world of traditional Talmud study. 15 Thus the learner is faced with multiple decoding tasks in terms of language and structure before even beginning to figure out what the text says.

While Talmud was central to the normative and intellectual lives of Jews for the centuries since its redaction, and was an object of study for those devoting their lives to exegesis, jurisprudence, and Rabbinic leadership, its study did not become normative for a broader swath of the population 16 in Eastern Europe 17 until the early nineteenth century. While each community maintained institutions for the education of children, it was a given that a select few would extend their Torah study into secondary education and above, while the rest would pursue other occupations.

Historian Shaul Stampfer (2005: 13-16) credits the founding of the Lithuanian

13 Since the sixteenth century, the layout of what is known as the Vilna edition has been in use. This edition features Rashi's commentary on the inner edge of each page, the Tosafists on the outer edge, and the Talmudic text running down the middle. 14 See Mintz 2005 for a discussion of the various translations in terms of both form and function. 15 The Schottenstein edition of the Talmud, widespread in its use in both Hebrew and English, features the Vilna layout reprinted opposite every page of translation. The Steinsaltz edition has similarly moved in the direction of a Vilna layout option. 16 This is the case only for males. While inroads have been made for Talmud study among women and girls in some sectors of the Orthodox community over the past three decades or so, access to this education was traditionally, and in some circles still is, reserved for men. My use of masculine pronouns to describe the Talmud learner is intended to reflect, not to align myself with, this reality, particularly given that my research was conducted in a boys' high school. For one treatment of women's access to traditional Jewish literacy in an educational setting, see Tamar El-Or's (2002) Next year I will know more: Literacy and identity among young Orthodox women in Israel .

12

Yeshivot (institutes of higher Jewish learning, sing. Yeshivah), beginning with the

Volozhin Yeshivah in 1802, with creating a completely new model for traditional

Jewish education. Denying any continuity with the European Yeshivot of the

Medieval period, or the Polish Yeshivot of the early Modern period that ceased to function after the Chmielnitzki massacres of 1648-1649, Stampfer asserts that the

Lithuanian Yeshivot embodied the combination of conservative reactions to

Modernity and the development of new types of educational institutions. With the rise of the Yeshivot came a different model of Torah study, in which Talmud study achieved status as a normative religious activity.

Volozhin and its heirs were innovative in promoting the intellectual experience and personal development of the student in the realm of Torah as the main goal, rather than rabbinic training. This is reflected in the curriculum and methodology, which focused on Talmudic analysis, with much less emphasis on the study of Jewish legal codes (Tishbi 1979). A refined form of pilpul , decontextualized dialectical reasoning, combined with peshat , basic textual analysis, as well as the analytical method championed by R. Hayyim Soloveitchik of Brisk, encouraged independence and critical thought in an environment in which each student was able to contribute and innovate, while a focus on musar fostered introspection and moral awareness (Alon 1944). According to Tishbi, a new pedagogy was also implemented.

His list includes havurot , group study in which students present material to each other in a model of independence and inter-dependence; close contact between the Rosh

Yeshivah , the head of the institution, and the students in both academic and personal realms; and "study in pairs—with a havruta —which gradually eliminates the need for a Rav in order to fully understand the talmudic text (Tishbi 1979:689)." Stampfer

17 I focus on the Eastern European context because its structures and developments have most

13

(2005) is somewhat more conservative as to the widespread nature of the havruta style of learning in the Lithuanian yeshivot , citing evidence of its occasional implementation but maintaining that it was not the predominant method.

In the contemporary enactment of this model in Israel, study halls for older teens and men, most of the learning takes place with havrutot , or study partners.18

There may be a central lecture attended by all, but this is but a small portion of the time. The rest of the time is spent engaged in dialogue with partner and with text.

Participants spend time learning the text for the central lecture, but also study text of their own choosing. While some time may be devoted to texts other than Talmud, such as those that relate to ethics, Jewish Law, or Bible, the bulk of the study is of the text of the Talmud and its commentaries.

This study is valued for its own sake. In other words, it is not the knowledge base per se, or the preparation for further activities, that are of interest to the participants. Rather, the very act of learning is held up as religious value, a spiritual ideal (Lichtenstein 1987; Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal 1998). This is an activity- based notion of service of God, the ongoing mitzvah , commandment, of talmud torah ,

Torah study. While the endeavor is in a sense truth-seeking, it views the text as having multiple possibilities and interpretations. In understanding, uncovering, and furthering those possibilities, the learner plays an active role in the interpretive tradition

(Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal 1998). While a given interpretation must be supported by evidence, and may not be contradicted by counter-example, it need not be validated by a particular authority. This level of interpretive freedom exists within a societal framework that has other means of creating, reinforcing and perpetuating

influenced Talmud study in the United States and Israel today. 18 See 1.6 below.

14 behavioral norms; this is not the goal of Talmud study, nor is it the raison d’etre of the Yeshivah.

Sociologist Samuel Heilman's The People of the Book (1983), an examination of Talmud study groups among adult men in the Modern Orthodox community, reinforces the notion of Talmud study as a process-oriented and ritualized practice, which he refers to by its Yiddish name, lernen . Exploring the ways in which this study is socially meaningful for the participants, he paints a picture of drama and interaction in which each person plays a designated role, words constitute activity, and the completion of a cycle of study merely provides an opportunity to begin again.

Jonathan Boyarin (1989: 413-415) distills "three programmatic claims about tradition, text, and time in Jewish culture" from his participation in Talmud study in a Yeshivah context: (1) Tradition is not a thing but a process ; (2) Text and speech are of equal priority in Jewish study ; and (3) The task of Jewish study is to create community among Jews through time via language . Both Heilman and Boyarin characterize

Talmud study as an amalgamation of discursive practices that plays an important social function within its community.

The nature of the cultural capital in the contemporary Yeshivah 19 is exemplified in the following passage (Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal 1998: 459):

A good teacher and a bright student are not known for a particular thesis or theory which they have advanced, but rather for their unique style of teaching and approach towards a Talmudic discussion…In the Yeshiva both students and teachers own their talents and knowledge, not their ideas or theories…There are no introductory classes to the Talmud at the Beit Midrash and there is no methodological orientation, any entrance point in the conversation is as good as another.

19 Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal (1998: 468, n.1) specify: "We take as our paradigm cases the important present Yeshivas such as Poneviz and Mir. These Yeshivas, which are modeled on the structure and ethos of the great Lithuanian Yeshivas that were destroyed in the holocaust, were founded by scholars who survived the holocaust, who studied there, and passed on their traditions."

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On the face of it, there is a high degree of correlation between this approach and Freiere's conception of education as liberation:

Through dialogue, the teacher-of-the-students and the students-of-the-teacher cease to exist and a new term emerges: teacher-student with students- teachers…They become jointly responsible for a process in which all grow. In this process, arguments based on "authority" are no longer valid; in order to function, authority must be on the side of freedom, not against it. (Freire 1971:67)

Is this indeed the result when Talmud study is brought into a school? The literature about Talmud study over the past several centuries, including the more recent empirical studies, relates to voluntary study for and among adults. My research in a yeshivah high school explores both the nature of the disciplinary construction and its role in the socialization process. What happens when this type of process-oriented and independent study is enacted in a schooling setting? The answer to this question will depend in part upon how one conceives of the endeavor of schooling.

1.3 Schooling and learning

One of the primary functions of schooling is to transmit the ways of behaving and believing, or the culture, espoused by a society. Teachers and students alike have been found to view cultural transmission as indeed the primary goal of schooling

(Isaicheva 1992). Apple (1990, 1995) addresses the economic and ideological aspects of this function, with schooling acting to perpetuate existing power relations. While he laments this preservation of cultural hegemony (Apple 1990), others embrace the role played by schooling in cultural continuity (Dubbeldam 1992), advocating a stronger emphasis on the school as a vehicle to shape civic values in the United States

(Haynes & Chaltain 2004). The values to be transmitted are those that serve the

"greater good" (Apple 1995; Haynes & Chaltain 2004).

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At the same time, both in his 1995 work Education and Power and in his 1990 preface to the second edition of Ideology and Curriculum (originally published in

1979), Apple asserts that this transmissionist view is not comprehensive. Rather, schools are themselves sites of cultural production, in which culture is dynamic and

"lived," not a set entity which can be conveyed from the top down. The contradictions and tensions between the culture as asserted by the institution of school in a given time and place and the culture as asserted by the actions of those enacting the institution come together to shape and impact upon the behaviors and values that emerge. One striking example of this phenomenon is formal education in Micronesia, which was found to change in response to local culture (O’Neill & Spennemann

2008). In Pulap elementary schools in that region, Western schooling was altered by local norms of dress, respect, discipline, attitudes towards children, and many other areas (Flinn 1992).

If schooling’s "primary function is to transmit, among other information, the knowledge, norms, behavioral expectations, technical skills, traditions, and beliefs valued by the society it serves (Bullivant 1983:42-43)," the activities, or "doings," of school reflexively create and are created by the society. James Gee (1999:83-84) describes the creation of institutions, of which schools are but one example, as the repetition of habits or activities that become ritualized into recognizable situations. In this manner, "situations produce and reproduce institutions, and are, in turn, sustained by them." The school culture and the culture of the surrounding society continuously and reflexively impact upon each other. The school environment serves not only to reproduce, but also to continually produce, culture.

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A non-transmissionist view of schooling is predicated not only upon theories about the relationship between schooling and society, but also upon ideas about how people learn.

"Learning" is an example of an activity that people do. A person's activity takes place in the context of other people's activity. With this somewhat obvious statement, I mean to convey two ideas about the theoretical framework, or the socio- cultural lens, that I adopt. First, learning, like other human activity, is social . Second, it is situated (Lave & Wenger 1991; Gee 1999). In other words, the participants in a particular sphere of activity are involved in the construction of that activity, and the nature of the activity is contextually dependent.

One key to the social construction of situated activity is language; language is not only how we say things but how we do things (Gee 1999: 13-17; cf. Austin 1962).

Gee (1999: 7) provides a vocabulary and approach which I find to be analytically and functionally useful when discussing the nature of language and activity, including learning:

When "little d" discourse (language-in-use) is melded integrally with non- language "stuff" to enact specific identities and activities, then, I say that "big D" Discourses are involved. We are all members of many, a great many, different Discourses, Discourses which often influence each other in positive and negative ways, and which sometimes breed with each other to create new hybrids.

What people do, through language and other activities, is a way of constructing who they are. The concept of who a person is, or identity , is crucial to the educational endeavor. The amorphous "society" that is produced and reproduced through schooling is subject to ongoing construction and co-construction by the participants in the society, and, in the educational arena, by participants in the activities of school. Preparing students to join a society entails inducting them into the

18 discursive practices of that society, or what it means to talk, think, believe, and otherwise act as members of that society. This is another way of saying that schooling seeks to foster in students the identities of participants in whichever society sustains and is sustained by the particular enactment of schooling.

Being a member of a Discourse is thus one way to understand identity, while avoiding some of the pitfalls of certain modernist and post-modern views of this ubiquitous concept. Brubaker and Cooper (2000) critique what they call "strong" and

"weak" understandings of identity; the former, presuming identity to be static or same within a group and across periods of time, are open to charges of essentialism, while the latter, ever-changing and fluid, offer no stable concept and "may be too weak to do useful theoretical work (p. 11)." Gee's (1999) concept of situated identities as components of Discourses maintains the notion of multiple and contextually dependent identities, but links these identities with language and other activities in a way that also preserves the core coherence of the concept of identity. In other words, when people move among identities, it is not because they are constantly reinventing themselves, but because they are moving among Discourses which they constitute even as they are being constituted by them.

The notion of identity construction through activity does not negate other conceptions, both popular and theoretical, of identity. Theorists have devised ways of looking at different types of identities. Carbaugh (1996: 19-24) relates to three common "idioms of identity": the biological (perceived as unchanging), the psychological (traits of individuals, whether stable or transient), and the socio-cultural

(claims about people as members of groups). He then advocates a shift, using a

19 cultural pragmatic approach, to a communicational, 20 or performative, view of identity, in which the issue is less who a person is but what that person is doing in a particular scene or situation. While within the biological idiom, one may be a woman, or Black, such a person may or may not be doing "woman" or "Black" (or mother, or student, or athlete, or gay rights activist) in any given situation. The "cultural pragmatic idiom" is intended to supplement, not supplant, the other idioms.

Elinor Ochs (1993) advocates a social constructivist approach to social identity, which "captures the ebbs and tides of identity construction over interactional time, over historical time, and even over developmental time (p. 298)" by attending to acts and stances that a person enacts and displays. Within the framework of identities as socially constructed and situationally enacted, Gee (2000-2001) provides terminology for discussing not only the different types of identities that people construct and among which they move, but also the processes and sources of power associated with being a "certain kind of person" (see Figure 1, reproduced from Gee

2000-2001: 100). These types include the nature-identity (e.g. being blond or a twin), the institution-identity (e.g. being a teacher or a prisoner), the discourse-identity (e.g. being funny or charismatic), and the affinity identity (e.g. being a science fiction aficionado or a graduate student).

Process Power Source of power 1. Nature-identity: a state developed from forces in nature 2. Institution-identity: a position authorized by authorities within institutions 3. Discourse-identity: an individual trait recognized in the discourse/ of/with "rational" dialogue individuals 4. Affinity-identity: experiences shared in the practice of "affinity groups" Figure 1: James Gee's "Four Ways to View Identity"

20 Cf. Sfard & Prusak (2005), who define identity as "a set of reifying, significant, endorsable stories about a person (p. 14)." Equating identity with narrative, they talk about identifying as a verb rather

20

Proponents of social constructivist views of identity and activity critique cognitivist approaches to learning as paying insufficient attention to the contexts in which learning takes place, and the agency of all of the participants in that context.

Barbara Rogoff (2008) conceptualizes the interrelationships among the various agents within sociocultural activity by drawing upon three metaphors: apprenticeship , focusing upon the communal or institutional plane; guided participation , focusing upon the interpersonal plane; and participatory appropriation , focusing upon the individual plane. Without negating the cognitive processes that accompany the activity, this framework provides a means for looking at the distinct yet inseparable aspects of social activity. This conceptualization builds upon earlier work that establishes the level of community interaction as a site of research interest through a socio-cultural lens.

The turn from the cognitive to the social finds expression in learning theory pioneered by Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger (Lave & Wenger 1991; Wenger 1998), who separate "learning" from "schooling" and develop a model of legitimate peripheral participation within communities of practice (CoP). In Situated Learning ,

Lave and Wenger (1991) advocate a move away from an internalization model of learning to a theory of participation in social practice: 21

[A] theory of social practice emphasizes the relational interdependency of agent and world, activity, meaning, cognition, learning, and knowing. It emphasizes the inherently socially negotiated character of meaning and the interested, concerned character of the thought and actions of persons-in-activity. This view also claims that learning, thinking, and knowing are relations among people on activity in, with, and arising from the socially and culturally structured world. (Lave & Wenger 1991: 50-51)

than viewing identity as a static noun held by or internal to a person. 21 Handley et al. (2006) critique what they view as the near-interchangeable use of the terms "practice" and "participation" throughout Lave and Wenger's theory, and suggest that "practice" be limited to activity, while "'participation' can then be understood to denote meaningful activity where meaning is developed through relationships and shared identities (651)."

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The resultant theory of learning draws upon an apprenticeship metaphor in which movement along a novice-expert continuum is accomplished by participation in the very activities that one is trying to learn, participation that begins as peripheral and may or may not achieve linear progression to full participation. This idea is developed through concrete cases of apprenticeship of various characters, exemplifying types that are informal (Yucatec midwives) or formal (Vai and Gola tailors), and even apprenticeship that functions to prevent learning (U.S. supermarket meat cutters). In real-world learning situations, there may or may not be explicit teaching; people learn how to engage in the practices of the community by observing and participating in them. The community of practice, however, entails much more than the mastery of skills:

A community of practice is a set of relations among persons, activity, and world, over time and in relation with other tangential and overlapping communities of practice. A community of practice is an intrinsic condition for the existence of knowledge, not least because it provides the interpretive support necessary for making sense of its heritage. (Lave & Wenger 1991: 98)

A CoP may be founded, named, and recognized formally or informally by members and/or by non-members, but it may also come into existence and be constantly renegotiated without any such intentionality. Some professional associations, recreational clubs, and online communities may be described as CoPs, but not all such organizations meet the criteria. The primary criteria are mutual engagement , joint enterprise , and shared repertoire (Wenger 1998: 73).

CoP theory has been used primarily to discuss learning that takes place outside of a formal classroom setting. Much of the research has focused upon the organizational aspects and implications of the theory. 22 CoP theory has been applied

22 Wenger has moved in this direction (e.g. Wenger & Snyder 2000; Wenger, McDermott & Snyder 2002), and the theory has been applied to various professional fields (cf. Lesser & Storck 2001; Field 2004).

22 to classrooms, both in the sense of attempting to foster a disciplinary CoP within a classroom context (e.g. Goos, Galbraith & Renshaw 1999) and in the sense of referring to the classroom situation as a CoP (e.g. Brown 2007). Mark Boylan (2005) has critiqued both types of classroom application, the former on the grounds that the classroom will never be a "mathematics CoP" but, at best, a "mathematics classroom

CoP" (with the caveat that the teacher is not a participant in that CoP), and the latter on the grounds that the hierarchical structures of schooling and the coercive nature of participation therein are incompatible with CoP theory.

I maintain that, since the CoP represents not merely an organizational stance but also an epistemological one, the schooling setting is a potentially fruitful site for

CoP research. The question should be not whether a school can sustain a CoP, but what type of CoP is enacted in any given schooling setting. The potentially high level of correlation between Talmud study in a school setting and Talmud study as a real- world activity makes Talmud education a fertile frontier for the exploration of the enactment of a CoP in a schooling context. A socio-cultural lens has much to offer the field of Jewish education in general, which, as Zvi Bekerman has lamented, has tended to adopt a reified view of that which is "Jewish"; attention to discourse and social processes has the potential to effect a change towards an activity-centered view of what it means to be and to do "Jewish," with resultant changes in educational practices (Bekerman 2001).

1.4 Ethnographic studies of religious schools

If the school is a site of cultural (re)production and transmission, a school attempting to reproduce a culture, or Discourse, different from the surrounding societal Discourse, which Lehmann (2007) terms a "Discursively discontinuous school," is uniquely suited to ethnographic study of this phenomenon. One example of

23 this is a religious school within a Western(ized) society. The "community" to perpetuate is no longer a broad social idea or ideal, but a closely defined set of beliefs, norms, and practices; the "citizens" are to be shaped in an image that leaves little room for variation. The role of the school is to co-opt the students into leading the life espoused by the immediate community. This is true for the students in the fundamentalist Christian school studied by Peshkin (1986), who are expected to conform to prescribed behavioral norms in and out of the school setting; those in the

Catholic school researched by McLaren (1999), who are confronted with rituals and icons that depict a particular picture of religious life and belief; and those in the

Orthodox Jewish day school classroom investigated by Safer (2003), whose identities and belief systems are explicitly molded through text and tightly controlled discussion.

Lehmann (2007) identifies two types of Discursively discontinuous schools, those that espouse a single Discourse which contrasts with the Discourse of the surrounding society, and those that attempt to simultaneously transmit multiple competing Discourses. Single-Discourse schools foster continuity between the school experience and the immediate community which it supports. The community may be completely segregated from the surrounding culture, as in the case of the Amish

(Hostetler & Huntington 1971), in which the schools serve to support an existing single-Discourse environment, or it may be more open to outside influences, in which case the role of the school is to create a "total world," as in the fundamentalist

Christian school studied by Peshkin (1986), with the school dictating norms and behaviors for the students even outside of its walls. Moshe Krakowski (2008), using an activity-based definition of "worldview" in his study of Ultra-Orthodox schools in a large Midwestern city in the U.S., found that the students are trained to lead "the

24 good life" in the particular model espoused by their community, even as they are ultimately expected to function within a broader society. This single-Discourse enactment is supported by practices and activities throughout the school day, and is reinforced by the students' home lives.

Multiple-Discourse schools, on the other hand, are predicated upon tensions.

These tensions may be between competing values, such as the Christian "caring" and the private school "contest" in a Catholic private school (Lesko 1988); between traditions, such as the "academic tradition" and the religious "Great Tradition" in an

Orthodox Jewish school under Lubavich Hassidic auspices (Bullivant 1978); or between entire ways of being, as in the "authority-centered" and "autonomy-centered"

Discourses of a Modern Orthodox Jewish school (Lehmann 2007). Multiple-

Discourse schools often have a difficult time mediating these tensions, if an effort is made at all, because the competing values, traditions, or Discourses are presented by different people at different times along a curricular divide (Bullivant 1978; Lehmann

2007), and the students do not receive a coherent, integrated whole.

Of particular interest to the current study are the ways in which Discursively discontinuous schools handle the study of culturally valued texts. Shkedi (2001), in a study of students and teachers of Bible, identifies a tension between Bible study as imparting of knowledge versus Bible study as cultural transmission. In a transmissionist model, the culture is viewed as existing independently of the particular classroom, teacher and students, and the teacher is the one charged with transmitting this culture to the recipient students, enacting an "authority-centered" model. If, however, it is text study like any other and the text itself is the source of knowledge and ideas, the possibility is opened for the co-construction of that knowledge by teachers and students alike, in an enactment of an "autonomy-centered" model.

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The single-Discourse schools not surprisingly adopt an "authority-centered" model when it comes to culturally valued texts. At the Bethany Baptist Academy,

Peshkin (1986) reports that the students were to have the Bible on their desks at all times, no matter what the subject matter of the class. The message was that the Bible is all-pervasive, relevant to all aspects of life. Its interpretation was absolute and was not open to questioning, and the principal and faculty were those charged with presenting the correct interpretation. In Old Order Amish and Mennonite schooling,

Bible instruction may take the form of reading exercizes and the study of "Bible

German," depending upon the particular Old Order group, but the Bible study does not include questions and explanations, lest the teacher offer a non-sanctioned interpretation (Hostetler & Huntington 1971; Johnson-Weiner 2007).

In multiple-Discourse schools, the dissonance between sides of the curriculum is palpable when it comes to the study of text. Thus Lehmann discovered that the

"autonomy-centered" model held sway in English literature classes, where students were encouraged to interpret the text in any way that they could support, while Bible classes followed the "authority model" approach to text, in which the goal was to arrive at a pre-determined interpretation rooted in tradition and known to the teacher.

1.5 Classroom discourse

The issues of autonomy and authority in textual study come to the fore through study of classroom discourse. Mehan (1979) identifies teacher-initiated "Initiation-

Reply-Evaluation (IRE)" sequences, a particular structure of the "Question with the

Known Answer (QWKA)" (Macbeth 2003), as one of the most common forms of classroom talk. He categorizes types of initiation moves, which then determine the types of responses the students may give, finding that teachers most frequently initiate in ways that do not allow for extended responses by students. Ultimately, both the

26 form and the content of the students’ contributions are limited by the teacher’s agenda, or "script" (Gutierrez, Rymes & Larson 1995) which determines their validity as the teacher exercises the evaluation move. Cazden (2001), noting that IRE is the most frequently used type of classroom interaction, is critical of its overuse as limiting the quantity and quality of student participation. Similarly, Hayes and Matusov (2005) advocate a move towards true dialogue in the classroom, moving beyond the limited number of conversation turns allowed by a teacher-driven agenda and moving towards true student engagement.

Wholesale criticism of IRE is not an exclusive trend. Haneda (2005), focusing

(like Mehan) on the initiation part of the sequence, found that the nature of the opening move determines the range of possible student responses, and that in fact there are many ways to follow IRE and still encourage extended responses from students that utilize higher order thinking skills. Burbules (1993:101) discusses two functions of questioning, developing greater understanding regarding the specific subject matter at hand, and developing the ability to ask questions. He further draws

"a distinction between questions that are basically convergent, in terms of being directed toward a specific, definite answer, and those that are more divergent, or open, in terms of allowing a broader degree of uncertainty in what would constitute an adequate answer (1993:97)." Thus not every opening move of IRE entails the QWKA, and the QWKA itself fills the function of teaching the act of asking questions. Wells

(1993), focusing on the closing move of the sequence, prefers to term it "follow-up," yielding the acronym IRF. He demonstrates that the third move can take different forms and fill different functions, such as extending student responses or forming connections to other experiences, and that depending upon the follow-up, IRF need not limit students’ co-construction of knowledge. Alvermann, O'Brien and Dillon

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(1990), in a study of discussions of assigned readings in middle school classrooms, found that while teachers intellectualized the concept of the discussion as an open forum for the students to speak freely and exchange ideas, in practice, the discussions were tightly controlled by the teachers, in lecture/recitations that conformed to IRE/F patterns. The teachers were wary of relinquishing control to the students for an extended period of time, as they feared a loss of control and order. The researchers concluded that one cannot downplay the importance of discussions as "tools of social control that empower teachers to orchestrate what content will be covered, the pace at which it will be covered, and who will contribute to the discourse (ibid 320)." Wells and Arauz (2003) similarly show, in a quantitative comparative study, that IRF prevailed even in an action research project designed to foster classroom dialogue.

They assert that IRF fills the need to have "generic discourse structures to which all participants orient, so that discussion can be orderly and, ideally, progressive (ibid

421)." They further suggest that the IRF sequence reflects on the micro-level the things that happen in a classroom on the macro-level: the teacher is responsible for selecting and implementing the instructional materials, the students are expected to respond with an increase in level of knowledge, skills or understanding, and the teacher follows up by responding to students’ attempts. It is in keeping with the teacher’s responsibilities that the same structure be applied at the level of classroom discourse.

Macbeth (2003) similarly views IRE and QWKA structures as ordering, but in a constitutive sense. He argues that in the study of "naturally occurring discourse

(NOD)" (which he contrasts with "critical discourse analysis (CDA)"), the commonly found structures are not imposed from without to preserve the order of power relations. Rather, they are used by the participants, in the case of classroom discourse

28 the teacher and students, to co-construct not only order but also meaning. By learning and developing a deep understanding of the IRE, QWKA, and other structures typical of classroom discourse, students are able to assemble the interactional coherence of the tasks before them. While Macbeth clarifies that NOD does not recommend IRE per se, and acknowledges that there are other available and useful models of organizational enactment in the classroom, he advocates the study of classroom discourse in its most common forms, using the NOD approach, as a way to understand how real teachers and students are enacting actual situations.

Lemke (1989) acknowledges the recognized patterns of communication in classroom situations, which he refers to as triadic dialogue , but suggests that the procedural aspects tell only half of the story. The other half relates to the thematic patterns of the subject matter and the ways that conceptual relationships are constructed through discourse as the participants make sense of the material.

Exploring the role that text plays in this process, he finds that it offers thematic patterns in the language of the subject matter. Introducing the text as a participant in the classroom dialogue is a way to help students speak the language of the discipline, not merely modeling the patterns but constructing meaning that leads to understanding. The process of restating the concepts in the text in more familiar language, on the one hand, and integrating the unfamiliar language of the text into student talk, on the other, is a way to have students "talk their way to comprehension

(Ibid. 140)." Lemke asserts that both the procedural patterns and the thematic patterns of classroom talk hold sway for any discipline. Of course, while the procedural patterns may closely follow the same model across disciplinary lines, there are content-related divides among disciplines.

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Many of those who advocate moving away from teacher-centered IRE/F structures, from "traditional" to "non-traditional" lessons (Cazden 2001; Cazden &

Beck 2003), seek to foster student inquiry via various types of class discussions.

While some look to general pedagogical approaches, such as Accountable Talk

(Michaels, O'Conner & Resnick 2008), many researchers have worked within particular disciplines to identify the types of classroom talk that best serve the particular needs of the subject matter area. Mathematics education has been a particular point of focus (e.g. Lampert 1990; for a review of research on mathematics classroom discourse, see Walshaw & Anthony 2008), with other disciplinary areas not far behind. A theme uniting much of this research is the need to train students in the discursive practices of the non-school-based version of the discipline, which may be known as "real-world" or "authentic" practices. Let me provide some notable examples from several disciplines other than mathematics. In history, the "Reading

Like a Historian" program aims to train students in the discursive practices to do just that (see Reisman 2011 for analysis of discussions in classrooms implementing the program; see Wineburg 1991 for research informing the program). In English, discussion-based approaches are used to enhance students' "literary performance"

(Applebee, Langer, Nystrand & Gamoran 2003). In science, researchers aim to make

"authentic practices" accessible to students (Edelson & Reiser 2006; see Tabak &

Baumgartner 2004 for a discussion of the teacher's role in supporting student practice in small-group participant structures).

Turning the lens of classroom discourse to the Talmud setting offers an opportunity to explore the nature of the discursive practices within a discipline whose in-school enactment is potentially extremely close to its real-world enactment. This is due to the process orientation of and religious value attributed to Talmud study, as

30 discussed above. In history education, Sam Wineburg's 23 goal is to train students to read and think in certain ways so that, as adults, they will interpret events in their world using these skills, not to create little historians who will grow up to be adult historians; in science education, Brian Reiser 24 concedes that the "authentic" scientific practices that he introduces in middle-school classrooms are highly modified to accommodate to the setting. Neither of these researchers believes that the practices in which the students engage in the schooling setting are identical to those that they will practice as adults. Children study mathematics by completing equations and problem sets, among other things, so that when they grow up, they will use and understand mathematics in various ways in their personal and professional lives; no one expects adults to sit around doing problem sets. In the case of Talmud education, however, the students are being trained to sit with a book and a study partner or participate in a

Talmud class so that, as adults, they will sit with books and study partners and participate in Talmud classes. Learning that is valued for its own sake, without typical school-based achievement goals, provides fertile ground for study of classroom discourse and exploration of real-world disciplinary practices in a classroom context.

1.6 Havruta paired learning

A discussion of the discursive practices, or literacy practices, of Talmud study would be remiss if it did not include havruta study, partnered text learning which is perceived as a time-honored feature of traditional Jewish text study, 25 and which has been the focus of intensive research attention in recent years. Much of this work (e.g.

23 Personal communication, December 20, 2010. 24 Personal communication, February 16, 2011. 25 As we have seen, scholars debate the extent of the practice in late-nineteenth century Lithuanian yeshivot; Tishbi (1979) asserts that it was a widespread innovation, while Stampfer (2005) has argued for its more limited application until the democratization of Talmud study following World War I. Although the romanticized notion of havruta as an ancient Jewish practice (e.g. Nagel 2009: 38-39, drawing upon upon BT Ta`anit 7a, "Two scholars sharpen each other…") does not have historical

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Feiman-Nemser 2006; Holzer 2006; Kent 2006, 2010; Raider-Roth & Holzer 2009) emerges from several teacher-training programs 26 which, often working collaboratively, have devised and studied protocols and methods for the induction of novices into havruta practices in ways that coalesce with the goals of the programs.

What these settings share in common when it comes to havruta learning is a necessarily decontextualized approach. The students, themselves pre-service teachers, in-service teachers, and teacher trainers, do not generally have experience with this form of study, and may have little to no exposure to Jewish culture or texts.

Therefore, the texts are short, tailored to the context, and are provided to them with extensive scaffolding, including translation. 27

In the teacher-training settings, the strongest emphasis is placed upon the interactional elements of paired learning, alongside attention to metacognitive aspects. 28 A list titled "Features of 'Good' Hevruta Study," whose elements shape the learning design of one program, includes "developing strategies to negotiate disagreement" and "helping your Hevruta better articulate what s/he is trying to say"

(Feiman-Nemser 2006: 168-9). In another program, "hevruta learning tasks were designed so that participants were asked to probe and challenge their hevruta partner's interpretations, even in cases where they agreed with them (Raider-Roth & Holzer

2009: 223, emphasis mine)." The carefully designed activities reflect a "relational

basis, a perception of authenticity may suffice to engender an affective connection to the practice (cf. Finkelman 2003). 26 These include the DeLeT program at Brandeis University, the Summer Teachers Institute (STI) at the University of Cincinnati, and the Mandel Teacher Educators Institute (MTEI). 27 The tension between "the use of controlled or highly structured materials or more authentic, naturally occurring texts" is a recurring theme in the recent history of general reading, or literacy, theory and practice (Alexander & Fox 2008: 23). 28 Other research focusing upon havruta has similarly emphasized the interactional aspects. For example, Tedmon (1991) has found that the pair of middle-school boys that she studied in an Orthodox setting were able to negotiate and benefit from their complementary skill sets, while Schwarz (2011) focuses upon the "dialogical" rather than "dialectical" mode in which the pair of experienced learners

32 epistemology" (Raider-Roth & Holzer 219) combined with a "relational paradigm of teaching and learning" (Raider-Roth & Holzer 220). It is therefore not surprising that the features which emerge from close analysis of one havruta session include three sets of paired practices: listening and articulating; wondering and focusing; and supporting and challenging (Kent 2010). This research (and the applications which it supports) no doubt fosters and reflects engagement with the text in a way that would not otherwise transpire in the particular settings, and similarly meets various other needs of the teacher training programs. 29 In fact, the centrality of the text and its crucial position in the relational triangle of partner, partner, and text, or I – Thou – It

(Raider-Roth & Holzer 2009) are a major accomplishment in settings in which they are not a given.

I am, not, convinced, however, that the current research on havruta , which imposes protocols 30 upon the very practice that it aims to elucidate, has much to say about havruta in a more traditional setting. 31 Furthermore, when the more traditional setting is also a school, analysis of havruta learning has much to offer in terms of the enactment of traditional literacy practices in a schooling setting.

he observed at Jerusalem's Mir Yeshivah conducted their discussions, as well as their lack of substantive reflection upon the learning process and its outcomes. 29 For instance, Holzer (2006: 198) identifies close parallels between the dispositions that make for good havruta practice and those that make for good teaching practic , and Raider-Roth & Holzer (2009: 235) found that in-service teachers embraced " hevruta practices as a pedagogy" that informed their own teaching practices. 30 The use of a protocol, or a “collaboration script,” is common in research on dyadic learning interactions (e.g. Marttunen & Laurinen 2009; Kollar, Fischer & Hesse 2006). 31 When I speak of "traditional" practices enacted in a "traditional" setting, I mean that people who are historically and culturally affiliated with a community fostering particular literacy practices may be inclined towards those practices, or, drawing from Gutierrez and Rogoff (2003), "repertoires of practice."

33

Chapter 2: Research Setting

The research setting is a twelfth grade Talmud class in an Orthodox Jewish high school for boys in Israel, which I have called Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. Darkhei

Noam is a four year high school in its third decade of operation. The school is an

Israeli religious-Zionist boys’ high school, or Yeshivah, the term used in all of its literature and by administrators, staff, and students alike. In order to understand this particular school in its broader context, a brief familiarization with the Israeli educational system is in order.

2.1 Context: Israeli school system

Israeli law mandates compulsory education up to the age of sixteen, and offers free education until eighteen. The public educational system is largely centralized, under the auspices of the Ministry of Education. This has been the case since the early years of statehood, as the functions of education included immigrant absorption and social integration (Nir & Inbar 2004). Education reform was initiated in 1965, intending to reduce social gaps and increase equality by reorganizing the schooling structure. Rather than eight years of elementary schooling followed by four years of secondary schooling, the breakdown became six years of elementary school, three years of junior high school, and three years of high school. Mandatory curricular uniformity was put into place by the Ministry of Education and Culture. These moves were intended to promote equality by providing the same education for all, and by eliminating selective admissions policies at the secondary level (Gaziel 1996; Nir &

Inbar 2004).

34

Public education within the Jewish sector is comprised of two streams, State and State Religious education. State Religious schools, 32 even more than State schools, suffered as a result of the reforms, as stronger students left the system to attend elite, selective private high schools, leaving the State Religious schools to contend with a higher proportion of disadvantaged students than could be positively influenced by the remaining stronger population. State Religious schools have thus grappled with the tension between equality and excellence in education (Gaziel 1996).

Nir and Inbar (2004:218) identify two major factors that, since the early

1990’s, "are assumed to have an increasing influence on the development of a

‘different’ approach: (1) decentralization and the development of school autonomy and school-based management and (2) quasi-market competition and ‘privatization.’"

It is against this backdrop that Darkhei Noam was established in the mid-

1980's. An elite semi-private school, the Yeshivah enjoys a degree of autonomy, in terms of both its selective admissions policies (based more upon personal characteristics than upon grades) and its hiring practices. Similarly, methods of instruction and assessment are largely shaped and selected by the administration and faculty, without responsibility to a central body. At the same time, the school must adhere to centralized curricular demands, and is responsible for teaching towards and administering system-wide bagrut matriculation exams, which typically begin in tenth grade.

2.2 School population and structures

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, with its student population of just under two hundred, is located in a small rural community. The facility is comprised of multiple single-floor (and many single-room) buildings and caravans housing classrooms,

32 For a discussion of the social functions of the State Religious educational system, see Gross 2003.

35 dormitories, and the beit midrash study hall, which is used for both study and prayer. 33 Known as less-than-luxurious accommodations even in the context of high school dormitories, the dormitories are located in prefabricated buildings with the door to each room opening directly to the outside. It is not unusual to find students in the dormitory area, which is in a central location on the campus, over the course of the school day.

School meets five days per week, Sunday through Thursday. The school day begins at 7:00 AM with morning prayers, followed by breakfast and a brief break.

From 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM, the students engage in Talmud-related studies, moving back and forth between their homeroom classrooms and the beit midrash . The homeroom classes feature heterogeneous groupings into two classes per grade level.

However, the weakest and strongest ends of the spectrum are frequently pulled out for homogeneous classes during many of these hours.

Following a midday meal and break, classes resume with general studies, termed "high school studies" as opposed to the morning's "holy studies," until dinnertime, with a brief break for afternoon prayers. After dinner and evening prayers, the students study Talmud for an hour or more in the beit midrash , except on

Thursdays, when the study continues far into the night. When the regular school day ends at 8:30 PM, the students are free to do their homework, participate in on-site extracurricular activities, and visit with their friends.

When I asked students about the dress code, they were unable to tell me exactly what was permitted or forbidden. From two different students, I eventually gleaned that walking around in boxer shorts in the dormitory is frowned upon, and that shorts and sleeveless shirts are not permitted. There is no formal dress code

33 See 50-51 and 211ff. for descriptions of the beit midrash and the classroom, respectively.

36 requiring ritual garb such a kippah (skullcap) and tzitzit (four-cornered garment with fringes worn under the shirt); these are a given. Dress is informal and fairly conformist; the minor differences key various religious or social affiliations. I observed that most students wear cargo-type pants, with the occasional jeans (which in some circles are considered less "religious"); a couple of more ultra-Orthodox students wear dress pants. Tee-shirts are the norm, with the occasional brand-name logo but usually with the design of a youth movement, political event, or volunteer organization; striped knit shirts are favored by the more conservative elements, alongside very few button-down shirts. Sandals are popular footwear when the weather permits, sometimes with socks indicating that the wearer maintains bare feet to be inappropriate in the beit midrash or at all. The type of kippah is a signifier of religious affiliation, and the hair can be as well. The small, flat crocheted skullcap of the more "modern" crowd has a minor representation, with even fewer black velvet kippot indicating ultra-Orthodox persuasion. The large crocheted version belonging to the National Religious and Haredi Religious crowd is in abundance, and very large, colorful kippot crocheted from thick thread mark the Orthodox version of New Age identification. The latter often come with long hair, including the occasional ponytail, while the other large-kippah folks sport close-cropped haircuts and long sideburns, sometimes with dangling pe'ot sidelocks; the more Hasidic elements tend to have the longer pe`ot and sometimes facial hair. Those with medium-to-small kippot usually have clean-cut looks, with moderate sideburns that are clipped to the minimum religiously permissible length.

Of the students I interviewed, approximately two thirds reside in settlements.

The students come from families with five to nine children. Several of the fathers are prominent Rabbinic figures in the community, and another is involved in founding

37 and teaching in yeshivot in development towns. Other fathers include businessmen, professionals, and a policeman. Nearly half of the mothers are schoolteachers, including one principal; others include a doctor, a lecturer, and a judge.

The students described their reasons for selecting Darkhei Noam. A few students have older siblings who attended the school. Many said they chose the school without knowing much about it, from positive recommendations or impressions. The dormitory was cited by several students as a positive factor in the decision; one mentioned proximity to his home community. The overwhelming majority cited personal (and not specifically religious) growth as the primary impact of the school.

They claimed to be changed by their experiences, and cited the positive social environment and the variety of students. Only one student stated that, were he choosing again, Darkhei Noam may not be the right choice for him. The students generally expressed positive regard for the school, with several citing discernible personal and religious growth as desirable and demonstrated outcomes.

2.3 School ethos

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam is an "experimental school," which, under the auspices of the Education Ministry, has been granted status as a resource center to train other educators and schools in its unique educational approach. This approach is characterized by the trust placed in the students and the structural and interpersonal outgrowths of this trust. The school's publicity materials 34 tout a "partnership" between students and staff, citing the high levels of responsibility, self-discipline, and self-awareness that are demanded of the students as well as the close relationships that are maintained across grade levels and with graduates. My observations at the school reinforced these characterizations. There are no bells to signal the beginning or end of

38 a class period; all tests are proctored on an "honor system," with no faculty presence needed and with different students frequently taking the same test at different times; and students or student committees are responsible for activities ranging from first aid services to school trips to classroom cleanliness. The institution, as represented by administrators, teachers, and students, prides itself on inculcating certain modes of speech, fostering openness about oneself and openness to others in an emotionally safe environment. Disciplinary measures are undertaken rarely and in consultation with the student in question. One faculty member offered the following example:

"There was once a new student who was playing loud secular music. I didn't tell him to turn it off. I just took him outside and said, 'Listen. What do you hear?'" Several students mentioned that no one is expelled from the school, but some have come to understand that they need to leave because it isn't the place for them. Students and faculty contend that disrespect to teachers is not a factor at all at the school. The school's ethos carries over to the students' out-of-class behavior. For instance, an

English teacher who has taught at Darkhei Noam and at several comparable institutions commented that while the boys at the other schools would roughhouse during breaks, Darkhei Noam students would sit on the grass and talk, or perhaps play a musical instrument.

The school fosters an individualist-spiritualist ethos, augmented by a neo-

Hasidic veneer. At the same time, as a dormitory school, it is a Goffmanian "total institution" (1961) fostering socialization to a particular habitus , or set of embodied dispositions for acting within and viewing the world, 35 espoused by the community that reflexively creates and is created by the schooling process. The Orthodox Jewish

34 The school's website and publications are not directly referenced, in the interest of preserving anonymity. 35 The term habitus is used here in the sense of Bourdieu (1977).

39 lifestyle practiced in the Religious Zionist 36 homes from which the students emerge is given the particular flavor of the Yeshivah. In addition to the long school days punctuated by thrice-daily prayer, the school fosters singing as a form of religious expression and close relationships with faculty members and friends as a source of religious and personal growth. Some students engage in practices such as ritual immersion and periodic fasting, manifestations of Hasidic influence.

The school's publicity materials emphasize the importance of a general education, embracing such studies within a religious worldview as not only

"expanding the horizons of the student" but also aiding in the "creation of additional receptacles for the world in the holiness."37 In the eyes of the students, however, the

"secular"38 studies are marginalized, serving primarily an instrumental function.

While several students reported interest in the study of history, and one described science as reinforcing his tacit knowledge about the existence and expression of God in the world, the study of mathematics, science, English, history, and literature (liked or disliked to varying degrees by different students) was primarily touted as a means of social and economic advancement. One student expressed the opinion that the school environment was responsible for the low level of bagrut matriculation attained

36 This is a broad term encompassing a spectrum of communities and observances. These can be classified by stringency of observance, political affiliation, level of engagement with the secular world, levels and types of separation between the sexes, and a host of other factors. The various sub- communities sometimes attribute to themselves or are given names, such as " Dati -Lite" ("Religious- Lite") or " Haredi-Leumi/Harda"l " ("Hareidi-Nationalist"). Darkhei Noam students tend to range from classic Religious Zionism to Harda"l . 37 This language, translated from the school's website, reflects a worldview whereby the profane is made sacred. Cf. Ish-Shalom (1993: 56) on the philosophy of R. A. I. Kook, a leading thinker for some spiritualist and nationalist strands of Orthodoxy: "[B]y eliminating the gap separating nature and the holy, nature itself is perceived as holy, and there is no longer any distinction between sacred and profane or between good and evil." 38 The religious/secular or sacred/profane dichotomy is evoked by the students but is not the endorsed narrative of the institution.

40 by many students. 39 Another acknowledged the school's goal of establishing a personal "connection" with the subject matter, but asserted that this was only manifested in the Judaic portion of the curriculum. Furthermore, several students denied that Bible studies 40 are part of the "sacred" studies, denouncing the administration's transparent efforts to render them "holy" by moving the Bible classes to the morning from the afternoon time slots. Examples abound of the greater value placed upon the Judaic portion of the curriculum. To offer but one: during the High

Holiday period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, only "sacred" subjects are studied throughout the day, with all other classes suspended.

Whether Darkhei Noam should be characterized as a single-Discourse or as a multiple-Discourse setting is not immediately apparent; in fact, this may well be a site of tension within the school. However, it is clear that within both the declared ethos and the enacted ethos of the school, Talmud study plays a central role. This research is devoted to exploring the nature and function of this central activity.

39 The same student confronted Rav Uzi regarding this issue, with the claim that students who should be completing a five-point matriculation in mathematics were reducing the load to three and graduating with an inferior diploma. Rav Uzi conceded the point. 40 They refer explicitly to " bagrut Bible," and indeed characterize as sacred other forms of Bible study in which they independently engage.

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Chapter 3: Research Methods

3.1 Methodology

This research presents an empirical case study. The methodology is ethnographic, using qualitative research methods to observe, describe, and understand human behavior within a particular cultural context. Working within a constructivist framework, I use an interpretive ethnography in an attempt to uncover discursive practices. This approach emerges from the belief that people continuously, through language and other activity, construct their own situations and identities (Gee 1999).

The role of the researcher, using a "postpositivist" paradigm (Guba & Lincoln 1994), is to analyze the ongoing construction of ever-changing, and often multiple, realities.

The study is not strictly speaking a true ethnography, in that my focus is narrower than the wide-ranging approach of traditional ethnographies. However, adopting ethnographic methodology, in line with an ever-expanding tradition of ethnographies of schools, has given me the tools to achieve a rich and complex understanding of a specific type and aspect of school setting, in turn enriching the broader field of research.

The ethnographic approach is informed by discourse analysis. Fairclough

(2003) advocates a form of discourse analysis that engages both the linguistic and the social aspects of the field. This entails analysis of recorded and transcribed speech, looking closely at the use of language and the role it plays in the construction of meaning, context and identity. I have undertaken word-by-word and line-by-line analysis 41 when it appeared called-for, while attempting to maintain a broader view of

41 This analysis was conducted upon texts in English translation, with reference to the Hebrew original throughout the process. All of the translation was done by me, including occasional consultations with bilingual laypeople or experts in translation or language. I have attempted to achieve a balance between translation that is exact (i.e. literal) and translation that is loyal (i.e. to the sense of the utterance and its

42 the holistic context. Tracy (2005) discusses the relationship between ethnography and discourse analysis, referring to "hybrid discourse analytic/ethnographic studies (731)."

I attempt to enrich the ethnographic analysis with the sensibilities of discourse analysis in its attention to detailed interactional activities, in dialogue with the empirical and theoretical literature, to reflect and shed light upon the texture and complexities of the research setting.

3.2 Data collection

The primary sources of data are observations in the classroom and the beit midrash , and interviews with the students and teacher, whom I call Rav Uzi. These are supplemented by documents , ranging from classroom-specific papers such as worksheets and tests to those that reflect upon the broader school environment, and by observation within the broader school setting, to help place the Talmud study within its immediate context.

The classroom observations entailed the recording and transcribing of classroom talk. 42 "Classroom talk" includes any speech act, by teacher or by student(s), on or off the stated lesson topic. While transcription 43 is itself an interpretive act (Green, Franquiz & Dixon 1997), the goal is to represent the words of the speakers as accurately and objectively as possible, with reviews in place to minimize errors that interfere with trustworthiness (Poland 1995). The transcripts are supplemented by detailed field notes, involving not only recording of some of the

context). In cases of non-literal translation or ambiguity, I have noted the original Hebrew in transliteration (using the guidelines found in Appendix A), together with the literal or alternative meaning. 42 Similarly, I observed and recorded havruta paired learning sessions in the beit midrash . While the research was conceived and proposed with a classroom focus, the centrality of the beit midrash Talmud activity within the research setting necessitated extensive attention to this arena as well. 43 Some of my transcription was done by transcription professionals; I have carefully and extensively reviewed the results with reference to the audio files and my field notes.

43 non-verbal acts within the classroom, but also subjective observations and questions that constitute an initial stage in the coding process (Strauss & Corbin 1990).

The interviews followed qualitative ethnographic principles and were semi- structured in-depth interviews (Fontana & Frey 2000). The interviewees, students and teacher alike, were asked about their experiences with Talmud and with schooling, with the format allowing people to introduce topics unanticipated by the interviewer but that related to their experiences and thoughts in these areas. The interviews took place interspersed with and subsequent to the classroom observations, allowing for the introduction of observed classroom interactions as material for the interviews.

While none of the students objected to my presence in their classroom, many declined to be interviewed. One explicitly told me that he was not comfortable talking to me. Others either actively declined or did not make themselves available. The permission that I was granted by the relevant arm of the Education Ministry to conduct research in a school setting posed specific limitations regarding student interviews. 44 I could not target specific students or specific student types; everyone was equally offered the right to participate or refuse. I could not hold identifying information about the students, such as rosters or schoolwork without the names being marked out. Similarly, I was asked not to track particular students or correlate interview data over time. 45 I was ultimately able to meet my target of interviewing

44 Because the types of questions that I was asking were determined not to pose a danger of any sort to the students' personal well-being, explicit parental consent was not required. This was deemed an advantage by both Rav Uzi and by Dr. Zvi Bekerman (in his supervision of the methodological aspects of the work), on practical grounds; the students were unlikely to return with signed papers in a timely fashion, and lack of compliance could hold up the project indefinitely. Rather, the students were offered the right of refusal at the onset of the project and prior to consenting to be interviewed, and were verbally offered the right to refuse to respond to any question and to terminate the interview at any time. 45 This was deemed an acceptable limitation because the initial research design did not include longitudinal tracking.

44 thirteen, or roughly half, of the students. 46 I found the students to be open, forthcoming, and, for the most part, articulate, and the interviews lasted from twenty to forty minutes each. I formally interviewed Rav Uzi on three occasions of forty-five minutes to an hour each, and jotted notes following our frequent brief conversations before or after class.

The classroom and beit midrash observations took place during three intensive periods over the course of the school year. During each of these periods, of two to three weeks each, five days per week, I observed the activity surrounding an entire sugya , or Talmudic unit of study. Each observation day included at least four hours on site, in the Talmud class and the beit midrash ; I spent additional time at the school observing other classes and activities, and conducting interviews. The beginning and end of an observation cycle were determined in consultation with the teacher, vis-à-vis his perception of a complete unit; his view was sometimes fluid or vague, in which case I elected to err on the side of spending more time at the school. I initially planned to spread the observation cycles over the beginning, middle and end of the school year. However, Rav Uzi strongly advised that I complete the bulk of the research prior to the month of March, as the senior class would decline in function over the remainder of the year. Some of this is related to typical "senioritis" – expressed in particular in pranks and role reversals during the weeks leading up to the holiday of

Purim – but other aspects are built into the academic system, as attention would shift to preparation for bagruyot matriculation exams. While many schools send home their seniors during the final portion of the year, expecting them to present themselves only

46 Due to continuous changes in the makeup of the homeroom group in relation to those who participated in remedial or enrichment Talmud classes, as well as frequent absences (excused and otherwise), it was never clear how many students were supposed to be there on any given day. Rav Uzi's roster at the midpoint of the year featured twenty-six students, but I never observed nearly that many during the regular Talmud classes.

45 for exams, Darkhei Noam policy is to continue with some measure of Judaic studies.

Nonetheless, I complied with Rav Uzi’s recommendation and request, and the three observation cycles took place in September, November, and February. In the intervals between and following these cycles, I paid periodic visits to the school, whether to conduct interviews and general observations or to attend special ceremonies and events. For instance, I observed study leading up to the annual school-wide Talmud competition, 47 as well as the culminating evening; attended several guest lectures by and discussions with prominent Rabbinic figures; observed a panel comprised of

Darkhei Noam alumni who presented various post-high school Yeshivah options; spent time at the school during the period leading up to the bagrut examination in

Talmud; and, at the teacher's request, spoke with a group of visiting teachers and principals about my observations at the school.

3.3 Access: Initial and ongoing

Here, a word is in order about my access to the research site. Many Yeshivah high schools serving populations similar to that of Darkhei Noam were reluctant to allow a researcher access to their school and to their Talmud classes; allowing a woman in to the all-male domain of Talmud was even more complicated. Darkhei

Noam welcomed me after I made contact with a senior staff member through an acquaintance of a friend, and was then referred to the principal. He promised to make some inquiries, and returned with permission to observe Rav Uzi, whom he said would be "appropriate" for the study. I do not know what made Rav Uzi particularly appropriate in the eyes of the principal. Known as a senior educator in terms of ability and experience, both in the high school classroom and in teacher training programs,

Rav Uzi may have been deemed a person from whom I would learn the most, or a

47 See pp. 70-71 for a brief description of the activity surrounding this event.

46 person who would be sufficiently confident having a stranger in his classroom. It is also possible that, as a person with a secular academic background, this teacher would be more open to and familiar with the idea of social science research. Whatever the reasons, I was connected with Rav Uzi, who was set to teach a twelfth grade class during the field research year.

In the wake of my pilot study, 48 a short-term study of a seventh grade Talmud class, I decided that I would prefer to conduct research with older students. While I had at first been interested in entry-level Talmud study in junior high school, I found that the traditional classroom structures overshadowed the authentic disciplinary practices of Talmud as enacted in traditional Yeshivot. Due to the sense that some of this was due to the extreme peripherality of their participation in the Discourse of

Talmud – the extent to which they were novices – I expressed a preference for an eleventh grade class for the current study, with seniors as a second choice, due to the factors that Rav Uzi cited. Finding myself in Rav Uzi’s twelfth grade, I was glad to follow his preference that I conduct the bulk of the intensive data collection during the earlier parts of the year.

My initial access was on a limited trial basis; Rav Uzi needed to determine whether my presence would be objectionable to his students or disruptive to the class.

He did not permit me to attend the first week or so of the school year, but welcomed me, with my audio recording equipment, shortly thereafter. It was only once I had spent the first week in classroom, having been introduced to and then largely ignored by the students (some of whom ultimately did ask me some questions about my work), that I was told I could proceed with the study. However, my access was in

48 This study was conducted in 2006 under the guidance of Dr. Zvi Bekerman at the Melton Centre for Jewish Education at Hebrew University in fulfillment of my MA thesis requirement, and was subsequently published (Segal & Bekerman 2009).

47 some ways limited. I could attend and record Rav Uzi’s classes, and those of any other teacher who granted permission; there were sometimes events that were deemed

"personal," such as a pre-High Holiday discussion of sin, that I could attend and not record; and there were events that I was not permitted to attend, such as a Hasidic- style late-night round table of singing and Torah with a senior Rabbinic figure, or the bi-monthly session of conversation and introspection in which Darkhei Noam seniors participate. My observations in the beit midrash were ultimately curtailed somewhat, due to the expressed discomfort of some students (not in Rav Uzi’s class) with a woman walking around that space. 49

3.4 Researcher positioning

A post-positivist paradigm recognizes that no researcher is truly objective.

One way of approaching this problem is to acknowledge one’s positioning. I, like anyone else, cannot possibly identify all of the factors that may impact upon my research perspective; I can only attempt transparency regarding those of which I am aware. My own identity as an observant Jew was apparent throughout my time at the school by my dress and my speech. The participants in the study assumed a shared cultural frame of reference, although details of my observance and world view are likely different from many of theirs. Embarking upon the research as I did with broad research questions about the nature and role of Talmud study in the setting, I was committed to observing, describing and making sense of what I found, taking no stance either prior to or during the field research. In this I have emulated Harry

Wolcott's modus operandus : "I would hold that ethnography is best served when the researcher feels free to 'muddle about' in the field setting and to pursue hunches or to address himself to problems that he deems interesting and worthy of sustained

49 This episode is discussed on pp. 52-53.

48 attention (Wolcott 1975: 113)." My familiarity with certain practices of the particular field setting doubtless shortened the learning curve in some of my muddling, enabling me to identify and interpret sites of interest, while I did my utmost to adopt no a priori stance regarding preferred interpretations. 50

I was aware throughout the data collection process of the potential impact of my enacted identity vis-à-vis the people I was observing and interviewing. In adopting an insider-outsider stance, I wondered how much I should reveal about my own facility with Talmud, as a person with experience both learning and teaching the subject. While one may assume that being a Talmud learner makes me even more part of the community that I was studying, the fact that I am a female Talmud learner renders me somewhat of an anathema to segments of that population, which may look askance at someone who is "liberal" or "feminist."51 If the students thought I was part of their discursive community, would they refrain from elaborating upon their practices as they may to an outsider, taking for granted that I knew what they meant? 52

And if they thought that I was a member of a discursive community which they found in some way objectionable, would they be less forthcoming in their interviews? I debated whether or not I should bring the relevant volume of Talmud with me to the classroom, ultimately determining that the benefits of being able to follow the text study as it was enacted in the classroom outweighed the potential risks of self- identifying in that way.

50 Cf. Wolcott 1975: 119: "My tactic has customarily been to avoid an advocacy position during fieldwork but to take a position in my subsequent writing." 51 Several students asked if I was studying them because I wanted “to teach gemara to girls”; they were receptive to the idea but seemed to view it as a quirky innovation. I know, however, that there are students at the school whose mothers study Talmud. Darkhei Noam supports Torah study for the mothers at school events; one student reported that, in his previous school, parents’ events included Torah study for fathers and sons, alongside meetings with the guidance counselors or other staff for the mothers, and that his mother was happy that at Darkhei Noam, she, too, was invited to participate in study.

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Section II. The Beit Midrash : House of Study, House of Prayer

"Torah and prayer. It comes together."

The beit midrash ("House of Study") is the hub of activity at Yeshivat Darkhei

Noam. Not only is it the only room that can hold the entire student body at once (with the exception of the location where the students take their meals, which is an off-site dining hall used by other groups as well), it is the location in which any given student spends the greatest percentage of his time.

The beit midrash houses the two activities most central to life at the Yeshiva: prayer and study. The dual functions of synagogue and study hall are reflected in the architectonic elements of the room. It is a large, low, freestanding building, and the descent into it via a staircase gives it a bunker-like quality. The main entrance is from the rear of the room on the left. The front wall is marked by an aron qodesh ("Holy

Ark" containing Torah scrolls) at its center, flanked by bookcases, which line the front and side walls. The bookcases are filled with prayer books and books of the Talmud and some medieval commentaries. There are multiple copies of the same books, and most appear well-worn. There are also bookcases designated to hold the students’ tefillin ,53 which are unwrapped for use and then replaced for the next day.

In the center of the room, opposite the aron qodesh , stands a bimah , a solid rectangular platform table from which the Torah is read. Rows of tables and benches fill the room (See Figure 2). The benches face forwards, with seats that fold upwards on a hinge, leaving room to stand during prayer services. The tables are generally strewn with books, and it is here that havruta study partners sit side by side as they pore over separate or shared Talmudic tomes.

52 Indeed, on several occasions I prompted elaboration by saying, "describe it to me as if I had never been in a beit midrash ." 53 Phylacteries worn on head and arm during morning prayers

50

Bookcases Aron Qodesh Bookcases Doorway

Bimah Windows Rav Uzi ’s Table

Bookcases

Student Benches

Bookcases Main Doorway Hallway Window to Oitzer Cubbies Low Shelves

Figure 2: The Beit Midrash (drawing is not to scale)

The rear of the beit midrash houses some cupboards holding students’ belongings; a small bulletin board with a detailed schedule of the night seder ("Order" of study time) for the various groups along with occasional requests to add the name of a sick person to the prayers or announcement of a found object; a ledge which holds at various times items such as a bin of writing implements that have been abandoned in the room and a bin of taffies with a price marked, a place to leave the coins, and a place for empty wrappers; and a small hallway. This hallway opens to the right into a men’s restroom, and to the left into a small book-lined room officially called otsar hasefarim ("The Book Storehouse") and referred to by all in abbreviated form with Yiddish pronunciation as the oitser .54

A noisy place, the beit midrash has an embodied quality expressed through its sounds, a constant hum of study and/or prayer, and occasionally the sound of silence;

51 its smells, of intense and sweaty young men in the summer, overheated wet clothing in the winter; and its kinetic (dis-)harmony, with the movement and swaying of prayer or study combined with constant movement through the aisles and in and out of the room. It is sometimes full and rarely empty; during lunch and other breaks, students and teachers alike may be found studying alone or in pairs, along with the occasional straggler involved in prayer. Decorum dictates no eating in the beit midrash , but the place has a lived-in feel.

Despite the constant movement, raised voices, and occasional boisterous behavior, I generally felt as though I were interrupting something, an intruder in this world. During morning prayers, I could only peer through the doorway; Orthodox

Judaism requires separation of the sexes during prayers, and there is no designated space for women in the beit midrash of the boys’ Yeshivah. During the morning seder , I initially had full access to the room when Rav Uzi’s class adjourned to it.

Students from other classes on several occasions asked what I was doing there, and students and teachers alike approached to see if I needed assistance. Female presence in the beit midrash was an unusual event, but the interactions were friendly and positive. I would walk the aisles and circulate among the tables, observing the students as they got settled and as they conducted their learning activities, and was able to find an empty bench here and there in front of a havruta pair who agreed to have me listen more closely to their study session. However, this activity was severely curtailed when, ten days into my second observation cycle, Rav Uzi pulled me aside and said that he had received "complaints" about my presence in the beit midrash . He was matter-of-fact but pleasant, and quick to volunteer that the complaints were not from his students (i.e. those who were accustomed to my presence in their classroom).

54 The oitser is discussed in Chapter 5.7.

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I could stand at the back of the room, but could not walk around, and if I wanted to listen to a havruta session, I would have to relocate the pair to a place where my presence was sanctioned. This experience not only highlighted my own Other-ness, it also solidified a characterization of the beit midrash as sacred ground upon which outsiders may not tread.

Both of the primary activities that take place in this sacred space, prayer and study, are central to the community, and both find expression in the beit midrash setting and also within the Talmud classroom. Opening with a brief chapter on prayer in the Yeshivah (Chapter 4), before turning to the study activity of the beit midrash

(Chapters 5 & 6), will illuminate both arenas.

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Chapter 4: House of Prayer: "He’s within it."

Communal prayers take place three times each day, morning, afternoon and evening. What I observed from the doorway on several occasions in the morning was a typical Orthodox prayer service, with all of the participants (including students and teachers) in tefillin phylacteries and some additionally sporting a tallit prayer shawl. 55

A few students wear a gartel , a type of belt worn during prayer according to Hasidic custom, part of the neo-Hasidic revivalism taking place in the National Religious community and finding particularly strong expression at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

Most use siddur prayer books, though they do not read from them at all times and may even close their eyes for part of the service. The prayers follow a set text, including reading from the Torah on Mondays and Thursdays and various minor holidays and fast days, and are led by students and occasionally by teachers. Most of the participants pray silently or in an undertone, lending a drone or hum to the room, punctuated by intermittent loud vocalization. The exception is the silent amidah prayer, recited individually, standing with the feet together, bowing periodically; during this time, even the smallest cough is a jarring sound.

There do not seem to be side conversations taking place during the service, but there is a trickle of students in and out of the room. Additionally, some pace or wander the aisles as they pray, or congregate in the back or in the doorway. Rav Uzi confirmed the impression that, while attendance and punctuality for prayers are an issue in the Yeshivah, decorum is less so: "The students who do not connect to prayer are a small minority. There are those who don't have energy to stand there, so they leave before the end. They know when they're allowed to leave." When in the room, they pray; even their premature departure is governed by obedience to the system of

54 laws; "when they're allowed to leave" refers to permitted by standards of Jewish Law, not by enforced standards within the Yeshivah. "He may not have energy, but he's within it," asserts Rav Uzi about the student who wanders the aisles or gravitates towards the back of the room or takes a few minutes to settle down but then joins the liturgy. They are all "within" the prayer. The students, members of the praying community, mark and own this space. They not only lead but also run the service, and do so with a practiced fluidity that suggests that they are at home in the ritual and in the sacred space.

4.1 Spontaneous Prayer, Scripted Prayer

The prayer ritual is comprised of fixed texts and actions, which vary according to the laws and the calendar but not according to the individual. The scripted nature of this prayer as well as its relegation to the sacred space differs from the prayer described by Peshkin in his ethnography of a Christian fundamentalist school

(Peshkin 1986:124). In that setting, prayer is tailored to the circumstances, and the students pray before eating, they pray before school sporting events ("that both teams be safe and play for the glory of Jesus Christ"), they are asked to pray for others

("parents, siblings, pastor, teachers, lost friends…"), and they pray for specific things as needed. It is through prayer that students "address God in their own words," and through prayer they seek God’s guidance in making major decisions in their lives.

This suggests a focus on the content of the prayer. Scripted prayer, on the other hand, must fill some other function.

Wuthnow (2008) discusses scripted prayer in the context of a qualitative study in which he interviewed church members about their experiences and recollections regarding prayer. Working with Durkheim’s understanding of prayer as a collective

55 The tallit , according to some customs, is worn upon reaching the bar mitsvah age of majority,

55 ritual that serves to demarcate the sacred and the profane and to thus strengthen the collective conscience, along with Douglas’ (1966) development of the importance of domain violations as a route to sacralization, he found that many prayers are indeed related to domain violations. Both the intrusion of man into the Divine sphere and the incursion of God into the human sphere are common prayer motifs, suggesting boundary crossing. Wuthnow found that in a contemporary context, his respondents tended to view such juxtapositions in a more metaphorical than material sense, but that this analysis held sway for many of the prayers that people reported as memorable. For instance, when recalling a prayer for a sick person or a child, people spoke about the contrast between the weak and the strong, the helpless and those capable of offering succor. However, there were also respondents who did not have a particular memorable prayer that came to mind, even though they reported finding their church prayer experiences to be meaningful. These people are quoted as evoking "constancy," "comfort," and "an opportunity to make those connections," even as "your mind can be totally elsewhere while you’re doing it" (p. 503). Wuthnow suggests two explanations for the meaning that these people find in their scripted prayer. One is comfort in the familiarity of routine, and the other, connected to the idea of domains, contrasting the "noisy, goal-oriented thought-filled domains" of everyday life with the "quiet time-out" provided by the prayer service (p. 505).

4.2 Scripted and Sacred: "What there is to say"

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam students profess a relationship to prayer that is intensely personal, despite the scripted nature of their prayer experiences. Drawing upon a standard lexicon of metaphors for the man-God relationship as found in Jewish thought, three students in particular reflected upon their prayer lives.

thirteen, or even earlier, and according to others, worn only by married men.

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Eliyah is a lanky boy with delicate features who displays a unique combination of dreaminess and intense focus. He is not the most vocal participant in

Talmud class, but he follows the discussion with a look of concentration and, when he does offer a comment, it is well regarded. He may proffer a creative way to conceptualize a point, or succinctly and matter-of-factly synopsize what he has learned. I was at first surprised when I noticed his on-task and on-target participation, because his demeanor in class suggests otherwise. Eliyah is a student who rarely sits in his chair with his feet on the floor in front of him. At any time, he may be found standing at his table, wandering around the room, sitting on the back of his chair with his feet on the seat, or, as I noted on one occasion, perched inside the open window frame. In the beit midrash as well, Eliyah presents as someone who is marked by difference from the other students. He has chosen to learn alone, without a havruta study partner, and spend most of his time in the beit midrash sitting by himself with the text – that is, when he is not talking to the teacher or wandering the room.

Sporting the long curly peot sidelocks and unshaven facial hair typical of the neo-

Hasidic elements in the Yeshivah, he says that when he finishes whatever he is supposed to be doing in the beit midrash , "I learn Hasidut," and connects deeply to the spiritualist ethos of the Yeshivah. Eliyah refers often in his interview to HQB"H56 and to his goal of avodat Hashem / service of God. About the Rosh Yeshivah, the head of the school, he volunteers, "Rav Yosef is my Rabbi." At various points in his interview, he credits HQB"H and Rav Yosef, respectively, with guiding him to choose the school.

Eliyah describes his study and his prayer as interconnected:

56 This acronym stands for HaQadosh Barukh Hu , meaning "the Holy One blessed be He," and is used to refer to God.

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1 Also in prayer, I study…it isn’t for nothing that it takes me two hours to pray 2 shaharit (the morning service). I like…it’s a topic that…like…I don’t know. If I 3 think about the words then it’s like…it gets to all kinds of places and if I…and 4 in general when I study, Rav Yosef says a lot that from the Torah you have to 5 make prayers. He says that when you learn Torah then it’s not just some kind of 6 statement. It’s not just that I say I have to uh…do something. It’s like…I want 7 for it to really happen. So it’s also de facto then also when I’m in class let’s say 8 and it says that you need to pray, so I pray about that. I want, I want to pray, to 9 talk as if…or I bring this thing close to my heart and then, the whole thing isn’t 10 just Torah study, as if it is detached from the person and…yeah, so all this is 11 itself prayer, because whatever we say, my whole goal in study is to progress in 12 serving God, to…become close to Him, so it isn’t some two different, detached 13 things, Torah and prayer. It comes together.

Eliyah’s reported thoughts during his lengthy morning prayers reflect back to

the content of the prayer. He will "think about the words" (line 3) and take these

thoughts to "all kinds of places." It is unclear whether his words denote a

contemplative or a meditative state, but a boundary crossing is suggested by the

figurative transformation of time ("it takes me two hours," line 1) and space ("it gets

to all kinds of places," line 3). Similarly, he takes his prayer-space with him because

study, too, is transformed into prayer. Citing Rav Yosef, the Rosh Yeshivah, as the

source for this transformative move, he places himself within an authoritative

tradition. "I pray about that" (line 8) is reminiscent of the language used in Peshkin's

Baptist setting, but the notion that "all this is itself prayer" (lines 10-11) suggests

embodiment in his study, and in Eliyah himself, of the prayerful stance. The ritual is

in life, and life is in the ritual.

Eliyah, a loner yet socially gregarious, distracted yet attentive, matter-of-fact

and concrete yet intensely spiritual, attracted to charismatic leadership yet unswayed

by social norms, is an individualist who lives his contradictions but does not struggle

with them. In fact, he seems barely aware of them. His model of bridging the world of

study and the world of prayer, imbuing both with aspects of the mind and of the heart,

is not embraced by other students who shared their thoughts about prayer.

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Matan, in many ways a model student at the Yeshiva, carries himself with a

mature assurance, and always has a ready hand to help when needed. He is a well

rounded teenager who sings and plays in a Jewish band and is in charge of first aid at

the Yeshiva. He sports a clean-cut look and dresses conservatively, and his ready

smile ingratiates him to his peers. In Talmud class, he is a conceptual thinker who

asserts his opinions with confidence and clarity. Matan separates between study and

prayer as two aspects of his religious being:

1 I would define it maybe as…as…that I have two central connections with 2 HQB"H. That one, one is prayer, which I would define as a direct connection, a 3 simple connection, a connection, I don’t know, father and son. Something like 4 that. And uh…but Torah is something that uh causes the relationship to be more 5 complex. I would say, to add an aspect of fear, an aspect of toil, I think, an 6 aspect of effort and investment.

Matan formulates an active and personally connected stance vis-à-vis God,

enacted through two realms of activity. Prayer is "direct" (line 3) and "simple" (line 4)

and, drawing upon the father-son metaphor (line 4), a kind and gentle way of relating

to God. It is study that is fraught with "fear" (line 6), with hard labor, and ultimately

with a sense of danger. Failure seems to loom in the realm of study, if the "toil,"

"effort" and "investment" do not bear fruit; success is the individual's to lose. Prayer,

on the other hand, is an easier, more comfortable, and safer route. Matan says at a

different point in his interview, "I really like to pray," further volunteering that he will

sometimes sit down at his piano or keyboard and "sing to HQB"H." His relationship

with God is personal, and communing through prayer is an enjoyable and calming

experience. He uses the scripted prayer to forge this relationship, and adds self-

expression through his music. Prayer remains in the realm of the sacred, whereas

study is of the material world. Matan talks about Talmud as being "what the holy

tannaim and amoraim said," connecting the Talmud to humanity rather than to

59 divinity, and becoming, through his experiences at the Yeshiva, "much more connected to our lives." He thus constructs a separation between the sacred simplicity of prayer and the lived (and thus profane) complexity of study.

Both Eliyah and Matan embrace the dual charismatic loci of the Yeshiva, study and prayer. Eliyah the boundary-crosser shows by his exceptionality, and Matan through his dichotomizing, that prayer is relegated to the sacred, while study need not be.

Ron is a very different type of student from Matan and Eliyah. He is non- descript in many ways; prior to scheduling an interview with him, I was barely aware of his presence in the class. A quiet dark-haired boy of average height and build, Ron chats and smiles with other students in between classes, but is by no means socially gregarious. I noted during my classroom observations only one occasion upon which he vocally participated in the class discussion. In his interview, Ron comes across as a pensive person with many opinions that he frequently keeps to himself, and who guards his identity as discrete from the community. Unlike many of the students, his father is not a Rabbi, a professional, or a businessman, but "works at the police." He views his attendance at Darkhei Noam as a reflection of his parents' desire to move him from the local school system he had previously attended to a school where

"students come from better places." Ron's outsider status is reflected not only in his background but in his attitudes. He professes to not particularly enjoy, connect to, or embrace the overarching value of Talmud study, as opposed to other areas of Torah study, such as Bible and Jewish Law, in which he chooses to engage. The Hasidic elements of the Yeshivah experience do not appeal to him either, and he questions his choice of school: "If I were a freshman again, with the experience [that I have] now, I

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don't think I would come here." Despite all of these differences, Ron's view of prayer

both echoes and offers a mirror image to those of his Talmud-study-enthusiast peers:

1 Prayer it’s, it’s standing before a king, so not too much. It’s like you say what 2 there is to say and that’s it. Without too many…theatrics. I don’t know if it’s 3 theatrics, but uh…that’s how I feel.

Ron, like Matan, selects a common metaphor from within this community's

literary and liturgical imagination for the God-man relationship. He opts for the

distance of the king-subject metaphor (line 1), rather than the closeness of father and

son. He feels the power of the stance in sacred time and space, and wishes to dispense

this activity with regimented decorum and remove himself from the danger of the

sacred as quickly as possible. There is no need for "theatrics"57 (lines 2-3), just a

desire to "say what there is to say" (lines 1-2). He participates in the sacred with an

element of fear, preserving well-defined boundaries between the sacred and the

profane. Yet he does participate.

It is worth mentioning that the perception among faculty and students alike is

that all students pray in the required ways and at the required times. If a student is

sleeping in his dormitory room when class is scheduled to begin, it is assumed that he

got up for prayers and then returned to his bed. If a student does not attend the

morning prayers, the communal gathering, it is beyond the realm of speculation to

think that he did not pray at all. Rather, he has transgressed by absenting himself from

the communal prayers, but he certainly has prayed in his room, individually (minus

the parts of the liturgy that are not recited outside the presence of a quorum of ten

men), tefillin and all. The cracks in this façade are evident in conversations about

problematic students who "do not get up for prayers." However, I observed on a fairly

regular basis that during morning seder there would be one or two students wrapped

61 in tefillin . I inquired as to whether it was their custom to wear them for study as well as during prayer, but was assured by both students and teachers that they were merely completing the prayers they had neglected earlier in the day. Prayer is thus prioritized over study as a time-sensitive matter, and students may use the sacred space to fulfill their prayer obligations even as the space is being used for study.

Returning to Eliyah, Matan and Ron, all three of these students embrace their prayer experiences. Eliyah and Matan may add the "theatrics" of extended time and of music, but when it comes down to it, they are all saying "what there is to say." The text is scripted, and the highly regimented activity is marked as sacred.

4.3 Boundary violations through prayer

How do these demarcations relate to the routinized comfort that the students seem to exhibit in their prayer services? To address this question, I would like to explore two instances of attempted boundary-violations in terms of sacred time and space.

The first story involves Tsuriel and a dozen or so other students. Tsuriel is the son of a prominent rabbi in the Religious Zionist community, and he takes his study very seriously. He is one of the stars of the Talmud class, participating vocally and respected by teachers and peers alike, and puts in many extra hours in the beit midrash . He also sports scraggly dark facial hair and peot sidelocks and wears a gartel for prayer, identifying with the Hasidic elements in the Yeshiva. Socially gregarious and exuberant, he speaks quickly, giving the feeling that the words are tripping over themselves to get out of his mouth before the next thought eclipses them. In the context of Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, Tsuriel carries markers of a charismatic leader. 58

57 The Hebrew term used, hatsagot , could also be translated in this context as "posturing." 58 Cf. Weber [1948]/1991, 245-252.

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His combination of kinship charisma and personal charisma renders him one for whom boundary crossing is a source not of danger but of strength. 59

It was the Monday after the Sukkot holiday, and this group had elected to fast as part the revival of a well-attested but little-practiced tradition of fasting on the consecutive Monday-Thursday-Monday cycle following a major holiday. The minhah afternoon service of a fast day differs from that of other weekdays, in that, on top of several liturgical additions, the Torah is removed from the aron qodesh and a brief section is read. As they were observing a fast day, this band of students decided to hold minhah services during the earlier part of the afternoon, in the post-lunchtime break, rather than praying with the rest of the school at the set hour of 4:30, between afternoon classes.

Afternoon prayers at Darkhei Noam are much the same as in the morning, but brief (twenty minutes or so as opposed to an hour) and said without the ritual garb, with the exception of the gartel for the small minority who use it. I was able to observe this service on several occasions, from the vantage point of the window between the beit midrash and the oitser . The student body would gather in the beit midrash , visibly worn from their lengthy school day that would continue for several more hours and then into the night, and proceed with the prayers: one preliminary psalm, the silent amidah , public repetition of the amidah , and two closing prayers.

The brevity of the service combined with the demeanor of many of the students give minhah a more businesslike quality than shaharit . At the same time, it is the carving out of sacred time and space from the profane afternoon hours. The whole affair is reminiscent of Ron's preferred mode of "say what there is to say and that's it."

59 Cf. Douglas 1966.

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Tsuriel's renegade service had a completely different feel. The boys held the

Torah aloft with joy and read from it with gusto. Their swaying and bowing were more noticeable than usual, perhaps because this select group comprised those who generally pray longer and harder than the average student, and there was no majority mass in which they were hidden. However, this was a day upon which their specialized observance was embodied in more than the usual ways, as they refrained from food and drink in an act of sacral deprivation. Their minhah carried ecstatic and devotional overtones that are consistent with the outer fringes of mainstream religious practice.

This group was laying a special claim to the sacred space, using it at a time other than the assigned time. This use was sanctioned, as Jewish law recognizes the early afternoon as a legitimate time for the minhah prayers, but the time was sanctified through connection with a community broader than the institution of school, which marked the sanctified time communally at a later hour. As students in the school, they asserted their rights to the sacred space, separating from the community and violating a boundary of time; this is their space, and they may use it when they wish.

The second case of attempted boundary violation occurred in two classroom episodes in which Rav Uzi attempted to introduce prayer, by way of preparation and composition and not merely the accustomed study, into the classroom context, outside of the sacred space of the beit midrash . One of these episodes took place towards the beginning of the school year, during the Hebrew month of Elul, a time treated as the preparation time for the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

Between these two holidays there are the "Days of Penitence," during which the

Yeshivah offers only Torah subjects, suspending all other studies. During the Elul

64 period, the mood is traditionally set through the blowing of the shofar and recitation of early-morning or late-night selihot prayers. Yeshivat Darkhei Noam embraces this time as an opportunity to work on oneself, one's relationship with God, and one's interactions with his fellow-man. The notion that such activity is indeed work, requiring preparation, training, and strategizing, fits well with the ethos of the

Yeshivah. Thus many sessions with Rav Uzi were devoted to preparation for Rosh

Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

On this particular day, Rav Uzi distributed large pages copied from the Rosh

Hashanah mahzor prayer book, comprising the amidah of the lengthy mussaf additional prayer. He asked the students to read through the text and identify a segment upon which they would like to focus. Then, they were to decide how they intended to say that segment during services on Rosh Hashanah. The class silently and busily got to work reading from the pages, text that was no doubt familiar to them from previous years. Some marked a section or scribbled notes, while others appeared to read and think. After a period of silence, followed by some squirming and rustling of papers, Rav Uzi called for volunteers. As several students in turn offered their choices, the Rav asked them questions such as, "what will you be thinking when you say that to God?" and "what expression will you have on your face?" and they willingly responded. He even asked Matan, "what tune will you use?" and the class was rewarded with a hesitant but full-voiced rendition. My observations at the school had just begun, and I was astounded at the level of cooperation with this exercise; I commented in my field notes upon the apparent absence of cynicism among this cohort of seventeen and eighteen year old boys. Rav Uzi successfully brought the sacred, prayer, into the non-sacred space.

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There was another episode, however, in which a similar attempt failed. Here, the boundary was not only that of space, but of text. Moving into the second semester of the senior year and struggling with attendance issues in class and the beit midrash alike, Rav Uzi embarked upon a campaign to heighten the students' commitment to and productivity in the beit midrash . In this context, he presented the prayer which is theoretically recited upon exiting the beit midrash . It is a familiar but not frequently recited blessing which contrasts the spiritually privileged life of those who frequent the beit midrash with the empty existence of those who eschew it to pursue temporal or material rewards. Rav Uzi asked the students to compose their own prayers for the occasion of entering or exiting the beit midrash , and proceeded to busily work on his own prayer. The students sat respectfully, shifting in their seats, and a few attempted to put pen to paper. At the end of the time, however, most students had not written anything, and no one wanted to volunteer anything. The teacher read his own prayer aloud, and sent the students to the beit midrash . Netanel, an outgoing boy who spends a lot of time volunteering at an institution for sick children and who more or less does what he is supposed to at the Yeshivah but is not one of the excellent students, summed up the activity:

Let's say when we composed the prayer in class. I didn't write because I didn't want to. I just didn't know – I don't think it's a side that I have in me…It's all kind of up in the air.

The students were unwilling to engage in the composition of a prayer. Some reflected on the "forced" as opposed to "spontaneous" character of the exercise as the reason for their lack of enthusiasm, perhaps reflecting the transparency of the teacher’s ploy to stimulate renewed allegiance to the beit midrash . However, they had been willing to plan how they would stand before God at a time in the future, on Rosh Hashanah. The interviews yielded some wholehearted support for that activity as well as some

66 detached reluctance, but the activity in the classroom may be deemed a success, as opposed to the clear failure of the prayer-composition exercise. The difference then does not appear to be spontaneity, but the opposite. The students were comfortable inserting their personal thoughts, facial expressions, and tunes (or: bodies) into the framework of a scripted prayer, but were averse to the boundary-crossing that scripting their own prayers would entail.

4.4 Prayer as performative ritual

For the students at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, prayer is ritualized in terms of time (a regimented thrice-daily schedule); space (the beit midrash ), text (scripted prayer), and body (standing/sitting/ bowing/swaying and tefillin/tallit/gartel ). The data presented here shows that while the elements of time and space may yield to the exigencies of circumstance, the text is non-negotiable. What a person says renders his act "prayer" or "not prayer", while the context for this speech act may vary within certain boundaries. This heightens the sense of prayer as a performative ritual. The essence of the activity is in the speech act; saying something is doing something.

Performativity as a concept in the philosophy of language was pioneered by

Austin (1962), who argued that certain speech acts are performative in nature. Thus, by saying "I christen this ship X," the person is doing the act of christening the ship

(Austin 2000). Many common utterances do not entail statements which may be evaluated for truthfulness, but actions, such as commanding, insulting, blessing or promising. The speech formula need not include the name of the act ("I command you to pass the salt") in order for the utterance to qualify as the performance of that act.

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Furthermore, Austin argues that, as every speech act minimally undertakes the act of

"informing," every speech act is in essence performative. 60

Questions of immediate context may ask, "What was said? By whom was it said? Does it conform to the rules of such an utterance, making it "felicitous" or

"infelicitous" (Austin 2000)?" The broader cultural context is addressed through questions such as, "What does this utterance mean in this cultural context? What is the nature of speech, or the relationship between speech and intent (Rosaldo 1982) in this cultural context?" Speech act theory has been criticized by anthropologists as paying insufficient attention to the contextualized nature of language-in-use, though it has proven useful in the ethnographic study of rituals (Duranti 1997). Thus, while both arenas of context may be used to understand the speech act known as "prayer" in the

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, it is the broader cultural context that may carry greater weight.

The act of praying is defined for this community as the recitation of particular words and combinations of words (or: texts) in a context that gives them the situated meaning of "prayer." As the data have shown, that context includes but is not limited to particular times and a particular place. However, the liturgical formulae are not subject to ad hoc change. The prayer-event is created through the performative prayer- utterance.

What of the meaning of the words? A central challenge in Orthodox Jewish prayer is to pray with kavannah , which more or less translates as "intent." The

"intent," however, does not necessarily correspond to the meanings of the words as

60 Hall (1999) identifies major directions in the development of speech act theory, both through anthropological theory that looks to cultural context for the situated meanings of speech acts, and to literary theory that seeks to decontextualize and assign meaning on the basis of iterability. Similarly, efforts to distinguish between performativity and performance (Parker & Kosofsky Sedgwick 2004) hinge upon context to determine when an act is meaning-“full” and when it is "hollow."

68 arbitrary signs. Heilman, in Synagogue life: A study in symbolic interactionism , states that the term kavannah "refers to a combination of devotion, concentration, intensity, and intention. It is the emotion which stimulates the felt need for prayer and must remain in effect throughout its execution (Heilman 1976: 68)." This definition locates the meaning of the prayer with the disposition of the pray-er (he who prays), and goes to the affect of the prayers more than to the identifiable meanings of the words. Stated differently, the relationship between the intent of prayer and the words of prayer is constituted by the act of prayer.

The relationship between prayer-formula and prayer-meaning may be further explicated by two examples, one from within the cultural context of Darkhei Noam, and one from decidedly without.

Robbins (2001), in his study of the Urapmin community of Papua New

Guinea, found that Protestant Christianity, which has made strong missionary inroads in the community, poses a challenge to the local language ideology. The Urapmin in general maintain sharp distinctions between speech, which they tend to distrust, and action, of which ritual is the exemplar. Indigenous ritual is replete with action and short on words, which, when present, are not considered constitutive. Protestantism, on the other hand, rejects religious actions (or: ritual) in favor of speech; confession is through speech, prayer is through speech, and the Bible represents speech. The

Urapmin, following the rebibal (revival) of Christianity, have replaced their rituals with speech. Healing rites, church services, confession, introspection and prayer all take place through speech. "Where ritual was, Urapmin Christianity seems to say, there speech shall be (904)." This is despite the ongoing skepticism towards the spoken word. Prayer, in particular, has occupied a central place in Urapmin life; they

69 pray for success and protection, emotional well-being and atonement, they bless meals and they praise God. This may take place in any forum, and the prayers are individually composed on an ad hoc basis. To understand this phenomenon, Robbins looks to the formulaic aspects of prayer. Each prayer begins with set cues rooted in both semiotics (e.g. closing of eyes) and language (e.g. opening formula). These are deemed actions, and render the prayer itself an act , and not merely speech . In this way, the Urapmin reconcile, or perhaps sidestep, the modern language ideology represented by Protestantism, the notion that speech represents intent, with their own language ideology that sees no such connection.

The notion that if the prayer-formula is implemented, then the prayer, whatever its content, qualifies as an act, is evidenced in the following incident at

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. It was the evening of the culminating contest of the annual inter-class Talmud competition. All students had been reviewing and studying intensively, and classes had selected their representatives for the oral contest. On the day of the written exam, which is administered to all students and whose grades affect the outcome of the competition, the students sat in the beit midrash in designated areas by grade level and continue to review. The atmosphere was akin to color war or a sports competition, as cheers and slogans periodically erupted from one corner or another. Rav Uzi gathered his students around him and led them in a parody of prayer.

Traditionally, at times of distress, such as when someone is ill or in the face of communal calamity, chapters from the book of Psalms are recited. The selection of the particular psalm may be more closely or less closely tied to the distress at hand, and there are specific chapters that are standard choices. The recitation of psalms, which may, but need not, be attached to a prayer service, is done chorally, with the group repeating after the leader in chanting each line in a specific tune. On this

70 occasion, Rav Uzi stood on a chair and began the traditional chant, but with words that he had composed. It was a prayer for success in the competition, opening with a typical psalms formula, referencing well-known lines of psalms and incorporating the names of the students in the class.

Success in a competition would not generally be cause for prayer, and certainly not for the recitation of psalms. The demeanor of all involved made it clear that this was done in jest; it was a pep-rally, not a prayer-rally. What does this event reveal about the act of praying? Like the Urapmin, the community of Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam views prayer as action, not as words. Prayer is marked by cues and clues both linguistic and semiotic. However, while these clues are sufficient for the

Urapmin to render whatever words they may say, a prayer, for this cultural context, the performative speech act known as praying is additionally marked by the text of the prayer itself. Tsuriel may "think about the words," but this takes him to "all kinds of places," not to the sign-meanings of the words themselves.

Heilman (1976: 68) found that the performative aspect of prayer was in his research context, a synagogue in the United States, separate from individual meaning- making through prayer:

Kehillat Kodesh Jews seldom if ever call their worship "prayer" or even (in Hebrew) "tefilah," terms which, strictly speaking, connote a spiritual experience infused with kavannah. Instead they allude to their "davening," a Yiddish term which, while it denotes "prayer," also refers to the context, both spiritual and mundane, within which prayer occurs. Hence, while only the inspired may be able to pray, everyone can daven – even those who, like children, know nothing of the majestic spirituality of tefilah.

Using this terminology, the students of Yeshivat Darkhei Noam can be depended upon to "daven," generally at the sanctified times and places but also outside of their boundaries. However, be it through the two-hour shaharit model or

71 the "say what there is to say" approach, they also seek to pray. The former, though, is prerequisite to the latter; without the ritualized text and accompanying acts of

"davening," they do not have a mechanism for their lived experience of language-in- use, "prayer."

Having explored the interplay between performative ritual and individual intellectual/spiritual involvement when it comes to the prayer activity that is central to the sacred space of the beit midrash , we turn our attention to the other major activity, study.

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Chapter 5: House of Study: "A learning Jew"

"Study" in the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam may better be represented in English with "learning"61 or, to use the German/Yiddish term that

Heilman uses in his work on Talmud study circles, "lernen , the eternal review and ritualized study of sacred Jewish texts (Heilman 1983: 1)." This activity entails an encounter between and among people and text, in which the aim is the interaction itself. In Heilman’s discussion of the "siyum, " the completion of a tractate (1983:

261ff), the ritual continues as another tractate is immediately begun; lernen never comes to a natural end with the attainment of a particular corpus of knowledge or level of competence.

How is lernen undertaken in a schooling context? In other words, how does the community of learners/ lerners transcend the boundaries of the classroom, traditionally entailing product-oriented study with an end goal of demonstrating knowledge and/or competence, and a clearly defined and delimited time frame?

5.1 Sustained activity in the Sacred Space: "In my spare time I learn…"

One answer to this question lies in the beit midrash . This sacred space, in which we have already seen the ritualized activity of prayer, is where students maintain that they experience their most direct and meaningful encounters with classical Jewish texts.

Prior to exploring the students’ statements, it is crucial to clarify that beit midrash study does not center exclusively upon Talmud, nor is it limited to classroom-based endeavors. Rather, there are two other primary categories of activity.

One is voluntary study undertaken by students during their free time. Several students reported ongoing learning projects that they had taken upon themselves, in Bible or in

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Mishnah. These may have discrete coverage goals, differing from the Talmud model of lernen . Thus Eitan expresses a goal of "by the age of twenty, know[ing] the whole

Torah by heart," and talks about students who engage in contests to see who can complete a given tractate of Mishnah first. At the same time, he recognizes that he forgets a section soon after he learns it. Matan gives voice to a common perception at the school that students indeed elect to learn during their free time, and that they conduct this learning with a high level of autonomy:

Halakhah (Jewish law) is also very important. I personally learn halakhah less. But uh…there are people who, that’s their thing, that in their spare time they learn halakhah . There are those who learn Rabbi Nahman. I, in my spare time I learn gemara . Gemara or Tehillim (Psalms).

Much of this voluntary learning takes place within the confines of the beit midrash . Students may be observed during breaks and holes in their schedules sitting with books individually and in pairs, and on several occasions students cited their extracurricular study as a scheduling constraint in setting a time for an interview.

The second main arena in which beit midrash learning is not related specifically to Talmud classroom activities is other school-mandated beit midrash - centered study, or sedarim 62 that are not attached to any class(room). Thus the twice- weekly seder halakhah 63 involves student study in havruta pairs followed by a brief summary or excurses by a designated faculty member. Similarly, night seder is devoted to beqi’ut , coverage seeking breadth over depth, at a prescribed pace, and carries no classroom element.

The desire to portray the beit midrash as a place of ongoing lernen , and not merely a study hall in which students prepare for class, is further expressed through

61 The Hebrew root l-m-d, the verb consistently used by the Darkhei Noam community, may be translated as "study" or "learn." 62 "Orders" of learning; sing. seder 63 "Halakhah ," or Jewish Law, refers to normative practice, which is not the focus of the Talmud study.

74 the practice of the Talmud teachers to learn together at designated times over the course of the week. Thus I became accustomed to finding teachers sitting together in havruta pairs engaged in lernen while I was interviewing students in the beit midrash during the post-lunch break.

5.2 Lernen with schooling structures: Seder halakhah and night seder

This picture of ongoing lernen sustained within the sacred space of the beit midrash , modeled by teachers and unfettered by the institutional constraints of school, reflects the ideology of the school community, but in practice is limited. While it is rare to find the beit midrash completely empty, the free-time learners appear to be a small but staunch minority. The activities aimed at the entire community, seder halakhah and night seder , exemplify the incursion of school into the lernen , with greater or lesser degrees of success. Both are accompanied by independent-study curricula with mandated coverage goals and periodic tests. Seder halakhah , which takes place during the morning block of time generally devoted to Talmud, entails review of legal codes and their commentaries dating to the late Medieval and early

Modern periods. The students are periodically tested on this material. However, while

Rav Uzi’s students could be observed on occasion preparing for the test, and Rav Uzi at one point even devoted some class time to this test preparation (moving the study from the beit midrash to a teacher-centered classroom), the students were frequently and notoriously absent from the seder . Rav Uzi lamented this to me on more than one occasion, and when outlining the schedule, he listed the designated slots as times when the students were "supposed to be" in seder halakhah . Absenteeism became such an issue that ultimately the twelfth graders were excused from seder halakhah , and were expected instead to proceed with their regular lernen at that time.

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The events surrounding seder halakhah yield two observations. One is that institutional structures such as tests are insufficient to motivate the Darkhei Noam students to participate in a program. They may be co-opted to participate in the product aspect, the test itself and occasional pre-test review, but withhold participation in the process, sitting and learning in a designated space at a designated time. This leads to the other observation, that the usual Talmud lernen takes precedence for the students, and de facto for the school community, over the study of normative practice. In other words, Talmud and the lernen process are deemed to go hand in hand, and both are valued and prioritized over other modes of study.

5.3 Night Seder : "You sit learn."

In the case of the daily night seder , the base text is Talmud and students may choose to participate in programs of varying levels of intensity. Each student is expected to pace his learning according to the schedule set for the program into which he has opted. There are bi-weekly tests to monitor coverage and knowledge- acquisition, forming a breach in the façade of process-not-product learning. However, since this is Talmud learning, and therefore related to lernen , the product orientation, the test, serves to augment rather than to undermine the study. These issues are brought to the fore as Eitan reflects upon his first night seder experiences at Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam. However, before presenting and analyzing his statement, a few words of introduction are in order.

Eitan is a student who struggles within the institutional context of school. He describes having been a difficult student in elementary school, replete with behavioral issues such as hitting and leaving on his own during the school day. He reports reasonable grades, qualifying this with, "it’s elementary school, it’s not that you have to sit [and] to learn." Junior high school saw some improvement, if only because "it

76 was the whole class cutting [class]," and at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, he credits the social milieu ("a good sort of atmosphere") and "positive social pressure" for his positive experiences. At the same time, Eitan freely discusses missing sedarim , though he also says that he catches up on a whole week’s worth of study in one sitting, and Rav Uzi held several conversations with him regarding poor academic performance and low attendance. During my time at the Yeshivah, Eitan fashioned himself my "informant," keeping me aprised of various scheduling details, offering ongoing comments about the running of the school and on several occasions pointing out features that he thought may be of interest to me. Talkative and outgoing, he is nonetheless somewhat apart from his peer group. Presenting as a self-styled cynic (the only one I encountered at the school), he would make bombastic statements about things such as Yeshivah’s employment practices ("the [particular Ram position] exists because the Yeshivah has all kinds of ways of giving people jobs") and student study habits ("It’s very easy to not learn here"). At the same time, he recognizes the dissonance in his life and his own limitations, saying, "It’s important to me to know

Torah. But ah…to want it and to do it are two different things."

Let us return to Eitan’s musings on night seder :

1 Beqi’ut , you (sing.) arrive – there’s the havruta , like ( ke’ilu ), hi and all that. 2 They sit you (pl.) down and right away just throw you (pl.) into the water. 3 You (sing.) have to learn an amud (single side of a Talmud folio) per day, 4 minimum. The first test is stressful but after that – it’s nothing. Like ( ke’ilu ). 5 You (sing.) sit learn.

Eitan remembers being "throw[n] into" (line 2) the night seder experience.

The initial experience of stress was related to the product, the test-enforced required

77 coverage. Then, as he acclimated to the process orientation, or activity orientation

("sit learn," line 5), the product and accompanying stress were "nothing"64 (line 4).

The use of the plural for "you" (otekhem/etekhem ) (line 2) as the direct objects of "[they] sit" (moshivim ) and "[they] throw" (zoreqim ) follows from the introduction of the havruta partner. There are two people, the singular "you" who "arrive[s]" and the havruta who is there, and therefore the self-referencing indefinite "you" is plural.

Beyond this level of syntactical agreement, Eitan uses the plural "you" as a counterpoint to the plural "they," the unnamed subject of the third person plurals "sit" and "throw." The institution of school is represented by an unnamed "they," presumably the generalized body of teachers and administrators, and the students as a generalized entity are represented by the indefinite plural "you." Throughout the student interviews, references abound to specific teachers, by name or by description

(e.g. "the teacher I had in tenth grade"). The generalized "staff" is rare, as is the generic "student body." In this instance, Eitan uses the two in opposition to each other; the institutional representatives act upon the passive students 65 to cause them to engage in particular activities with set outcomes. However, when it comes to the lernen , Eitan reverts to the indefinite singular, with "you have to learn"/atah tsarikh lilmod (lines 3-4), and "you sit [and] learn"/atah yoshev lomed (lines 4-5). The student subject, rather than object, is individuated as he engages in lernen activity, as the institutional "teachers" and "students" recede.

The discourse marker ke’ilu (lit. "like, as if") appears twice in this brief segment (lines 1, 4). The use of this element in a non-literal sense has risen over the past several decades, as attested not only regarding the Hebrew ke’ilu but also its

English and French counterparts, like and genre , respectively (Maschler 2002).

64 shtuyot , lit. “nonsense”

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Especially common in (but not limited to) the speech of young people, these terms are used in a variety of functions. Maschler conducted a qualitative study in which she analyzed conversations among young adults and found, in addition to increased usage in the later (1998-1999) data over the earlier (1994-1997) data, that there were five functions of ke’ilu divided among what she terms the lingual and the metalingual realms. The five include: the conjunction "as though"; hedge; quotative; focus- marker; and self-rephrasal. The quotative was found to be the function with the most recent proliferation, and Maschler identifies self-rephrasal as the most common use of the Hebrew ke'ilu , a use that is not treated as a separate category in a comparative study of like and genre (Maschler 2002:248). Darkhei Noam students pepper their speech with ke’ilu , to greater and lesser extents, and all five usages are attested. Eitan uses the token twice in the sentences cited above, and both serve to highlight features of lernen as he describes his experience.

First, he uses a quotative ke'ilu (line 1) to indicate that the initial encounter with the havruta begins with a greeting formula which he quotes directly ("hi") and then refers to as a known procedure ("and all that"). The social interaction element of the encounter is at once emphasized and diminished; the social is a framing device which is a given, but which does not spill over into the substance. 66

Eitan's second use of ke'ilu (line 4) functions as a focus marker. Maschler

(2002: 255) cites Lambrecht's definition of focus marking: "The focus is that portion of a proposition which cannot be taken for granted at the time of speech. It is the unpredictable or pragmatically non-recoverable element in an utterance (1994:

207)." In other words, the focus is the part of the sentence that the hearer is not

65 as per the transitive "[they] sit you"/ moshivim otekha 66 The interactional elements of the havruta mode of study find expression in much of the research on havruta and are addressed more extensively in the next chapter.

79 presumed to already know. The turn to "sit [and] learn" from the institutional context of "they" and "you" and tests is the element of night seder that Eitan chooses to present as unexpected, in light of the structures that sustain it. He in effect asserts that the social element ("hi and all that") and the product (coverage requirement/test) are not the essence of the night seder activity. Rather, it may be distilled into "sit and learn."

The phrase sit learn (or "sitting learning," Heb. yoshev lomed , using two participles) is an asyndetic construction. Asyndetic constructions are found in Biblical and Modern Hebrew alike, but the participle is rarely used in this way, attested only four times in Biblical usage, with two of those in the same context (Assif p. 6). The construction yoshev lomed is found in very specific contexts. As reflected in informal

Internet usage, such as forums and talkbacks, media which have their own linguisitic structures but which nonetheless attest language-in-use, yoshev lomed is used most frequently within Orthodox Jewish discourse and denotes the act of Torah study.

Thus, to cite just a few examples (Google search, October 4, 2009), one finds, "every

Shabbat I sit learn/ yoshev lomed Zohar, Tehillim (Psalms), etc."; "I’m a good learner, accepted in society, truly sit learn/ yoshev lomed "; and "that’s someone who has a lot of Torah, all day sits learns/yoshev lomed Torah." The phrase, which appears with and without a direct object, is used to distinguish between the lifestyle of a religious person and a secular person, be it in praise or denigration, and also appears online in storytelling contexts about Rabbinic figures from the Talmudic to the Modern period. 67

67 Usage outside of this context, such as the student who complains that he is failing his classes despite the fact that he is yoshev lomed , are a small minority, and even these cases frequently come with a whole string of verbs and do not necessarily reflect the same construction (in this case, the student writes, “I sit learn invest work hard (lit. plow ) summarize extract a 70 with difficulty,” using no punctuation or conjunctions throughout the entire clause).

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What is the meaning of this phrase and what is the relationship of the two verbs to each other? Another similar phrase, "sit read"/yoshev qore’ , may shed light on this question. Yoshev qore’ is used more broadly than yoshev lomed (rather than being limited to a narrow cultural context), and generally appears with a direct object.

Some examples (again from internet contexts) include "…but I sit read/ yoshev qore’ what’s written and I get annoyed and ask myself: what they don’t want to succeed in the Champions’ League??"; "…and his older brother is sitting reading/ yoshev qore’ a newspaper on the side letting his kid cry"; and, from a literary source, a rhyming children’s story about a vegetable garden, and used with an indirect as well as a direct object (Green n.d.), "What is the carrot doing, at the feet of the mushroom

(hapitriyyah) ? Sitting reading/ yoshev qore’ himself a book, that he took in the library

(basifriyyah) ." The addition of the verb y-sh-v/sit to the primary activity, q-r-‘/read modifies the stated activity, rather than functioning as its own separate action. Thus yoshev qore’ would denote not "sitting and also reading," but rather something along the lines of "reading while sitting," indicating bodily and/or spatial involvement in the activity at hand. The contexts suggest an intensity or exclusivity to the reading; when one "sits X," s/he is not also doing something else.

Applying this understanding to the culturally specific (or: culturally co-opted) frozen form of yoshev lomed , "sitting learning" indicates intensive and bodily involvement in lernen , to the exclusion of other activities. The act is an ends, and not just a means, for, as Eitan suggests, forgetting about the test is when a student can truly "sit learn." An interesting point of contrast is Eitan’s use of the same verbs, though in their infinitive forms and not in the frozen asyndetic structure, to describe what he was not expected to do in elementary school, in the quote that we have cited

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above, "it’s not that you have to sit to learn ( lashevet lilmod )." In that instance, he

reflects upon the disconnect between the means and the ends; academic success was

possible even without the process orientation and total involvement that is expected at

Darkhei Noam. Thus the denigration of a setting that does not entail y-sh-v l-m-d

reinforces one that does.

The goal of night seder is thus the activity of "sitting learning"/yoshev lomed ,

with all that this entails. Since this lernen is considered a natural activity within the

sacred space of the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, the students are

compliant with the structures in place to support it. Thus, unlike a standard schooling

setting in which a process leads to a desired outcome, in the case of night seder it

appears that the outcomes (i.e. tests) form a tolerated by-product of a desired process.

Of course, Eitan has offered an idealized version of night seder , by his own

description. As we have seen, he is not a stellar student but wants to participate in the

positive atmosphere and in the valued activities that the school offers. At a later point

in his interview, he says:

1 But night seder is really nonsense. You are able on Thursday to learn four 2 dappim to do a test. It's ke'ilu . It's then also the same thing, almost. Almost 3 always.

This time, it is the night seder itself that is "nonsense" (shtuyot ) (line 1), as

Eitan reduces it to its product (coverage and testing, which in the earlier statement

were the apparent referent of shtuyot ). Thus, he is able to ignore the process over the

entire week and catch up on Thursdays to pass his tests. The ke'ilu (line 2), though, is

a hedge, reinforced by the awkward and non-committal phrasing that follows. Eitan

asserts that he is able to reverse the direction, harnessing the process in service of the

product, but even he seems unable to stand by this assertion.

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Ron also reflects upon his night seder experiences as reinforcing the

independence and process orientation of Talmud study at the yeshivah:

1 I had, let’s say in ninth grade, that in night seder I had a twelfth grade havruta 2 who was a genius, like ( ke’ilu ), and, uh, that’s it. Mainly from him I know how 3 to learn. He just…I read the gemara and explained and that, that caused me to 4 succesfully understand what they want. Ah…that’s it. Whatever I didn’t 5 understand, so he explained, but uh, primarily I explained.

Ron credits his senior havruta with his ability "to learn" (line 3), but cannot

identify what that student actually did. The "genius" factor is hedged with ke’ilu (line

2), and though Ron begins a sentence with "he just…" (line 3), the idea cannot

support this structure. It is Ron himself who was the active learner/ lerner who "read…

explained… under[stood]…" (lines 3-4), yet he attributes his success to the night

seder structure. What is unique to this structure? First, many students distinguished

between their iyyun /in-depth and beqi’ut /breadth learning, the latter of which is

generally relegated to night seder .68 The beqi’ut learning as described by Ron is

characterized by lack of interpretive ambiguity. There is a defined and attainable

interpretation, which he expresses as "what they want" (mah hem rotsim ) (line 4),

apparently referring to the Talmudic sages themselves. The role of the learner is to

"explain," and this explanation leads to understanding.

The beqi’ut/iyyun dichotomy carries with it a by-product of reduced teacher

involvement in the night seder learning. While iyyun is approached through particular

questions or types of questions, particular interpreters or schools of interpreters, and

these must be defined for/by the students prior to and/or during the lernen , as we shall

see shortly, beqi’ut is an unmediated encounter with the text itself. The students are

68 For example, Binyamin offers, “Like, as hard as iyyun is for me, I think it’s still, like, really important…and beqi’ut I just connect to it more because it’s easier,” with Shaul expressing a similar preference, while Yishai prefers the iyyun questions of “why this is like this and that is like that,” saying, “I also feel that I’m pretty strong in it. But beqi’ut is a little, it’s a little difficult for me.”

83 expected to read and understand the text on a basic level, without commentaries. Thus none of the students explicitly addressed teacher involvement at night seder , and several gravitated towards night seder as the natural place to discuss the havruta dynamic, as Ron does above and as will be discussed further below.

5.4 Peer mentoring: "I have a ‘freshie’"

Furthermore, of the four high school years that a student spends at Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam, two are characterized by the particular night seder pairing to which

Ron refers, a freshman and a senior. Incoming ninth graders are given twelfth grade night seder study partners, and the two together are expected to cover the beqi’ut material at the prescribed pace. This peer mentoring provides a mechanism for bringing the novices into the community of practice, by partnering the incoming novice with a novice who is farther along on the road to expertise, yet has not achieved the expert status of the teacher.

Not surprising, in line with research on peer mentoring (Cloward 1976;

Strodtbeck, Ronchi & Hansell 1976; Pickens & McNaughton 1988; Good, Halpin &

Halpin 2000), is the fact that these seniors also feel motivated by their experiences as peer mentors. Cloward found that the academic level of the tutor was not a factor in effectiveness as he measured it in his quantitative study, and that low-achieving high school students were indeed effective reading tutors for low-achieving elementary school children. Not only were personality factors a greater predictor of success as a tutor than were scholastic achievements, but the tutors themselves improved their academic performance (Cloward 1976: 227-8). Good et al’s findings emphasize academic gains in the areas of study skills, critical thinking, and understanding of core concepts (378-9), as well as interpersonal benefits along the lines of "ease of communication, development of responsibility and leadership skills, and a sense of

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self-satisfaction and belonging (380)." At Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, many of these

benefits may be attained through the usual havruta structure within age cohorts. The

process orientation de-emphasizes academic achievement per se, but as we will see

below, students perceive the havruta encounter as enhancing both intellectual and

interpersonal aspects of their learning. However, the senior-freshman mentoring

scenario yielded the following comment from Eitan, who as we have seen is by his

own admission a less-than-conscientious student:

1 Now the morning sedarim …I find the morning sedarim so not okay ( mah zeh lo 2 beseder ) in the Yeshivah. B-but…I…I learn. Learn sort of. Like ( ke’ilu ) now I 3 try to be with the class. So I learn. But just because I try to be with the class. I 4 don’t so much ( kazeh ) learn ( lomed ) sedarim (or: I’m not such a sedarim 5 learner) and such ( vezeh ). Ah…and night seder of course I learn. I have a 6 freshie ( hamshush ) so ah… I have a responsibility.

The first few lines of this segment are replete with hedging and indefinite or

noncommittal speech. There is a self rephrasing ke’ilu (Maschler 2002), as Eitan

delimits his statement that he "learn(s) sort of" (line 2), without a full commitment to

that learning. We find kazeh (line 4), for which hedging is the most frequent usage

(Maschler 2001; Ziv 1998), offering that he doesn’t really learn or isn’t really a

learner (depending upon how one reads the participle lomed ). There is the superlative

use of mah zeh ("so," lit. what is it ) (line 1) and the nonspecific vezeh (line 5), which

combine with kazeh to tally three uses of the demonstrative zeh in an indefinite sense.

Eitan stutters as he moves from his critique of the morning seder structure at the

Yeshivah to his own reluctant participation. These utterances are all slow and

halting, 69 as Eitan is unable to label himself a learner/ lerner in the context of morning

seder ; he is merely a student, whose motivation is "to be with the class" (line 3), even

as this goal is out of synch with the mode of learning at the Yeshivah. However, the

69 This feature is discernible in the audio recording but not represented in the transcript.

85 final two sentences of the segment are expressed definitively. Gone are the hedges and the stuttering and the restatements; there is just an "ah…" each time Eitan formulates his thoughts, and then he offers a clear and quick statement. The "sort of/so much/and such" incertitude is replaced with "of course" (betah ) (line 5), for it is clear to him that he does indeed learn in night seder . The difference, for him, is the responsibility that he holds for his "freshie" havruta , which affects his reported behavior more than the responsibility he has towards his havruta in any other seder .

This example highlights a major challenge, and perhaps the major challenge, at the Yeshivah. Students in other settings who engage in peer mentoring or tutoring find that their grasp of the material improves, and that their leadership skills are developed. In the activity-centered context of Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, in which personal development goes hand in hand with personal responsibility and a high level of freedom, compliance with the institutional framework is a constant source of struggle. For a student like Eitan, the enhancement to his own learning as a result of his peer tutoring is mainly getting him to show up, not only to study, to keep up with the class, but to engage in the activity of a lomed , learning/ lernen .

We have explored two lernen structures at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, seder halakhah and night seder , that reinforce the notion of lernen for this community as

Talmud-centered and activity-oriented. Some of the issues that we have raised, and that require further treatment, include: the nature of the relationship between learner and text; the social component of the havruta interaction; the role of the teacher in the lernen process; and the ways in which the institutional structures of schooling interact with the lernen model of Talmud study. These are some of the issues that will come to the fore as we turn to the primary focal point at Darkhei Noam, morning seder .

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5.5 Morning Seder : Yeshivah confronts School

The morning at the Yeshivah is conceived as a large block of time devoted to

Talmud study, modeled like many yeshivah high schools upon the morning seder of what is perceived as the "classic" yeshivah. In an Ashkenazic 70 milieu, the point of reference is frequently the giant of nineteenth century Lithuanian yeshivot, the

Yeshivah of Volozhin (Finkelman 2003). While there are differing accounts as to the exact schedule at Volozhin, depending upon the individual offering the recollections and possibly upon different practices at various times over the Yeshivah's century- long existence, there is consensus as to the practice of a morning seder that began following prayers and breakfast, and continued until one of the Rabbis gave a shiur , probably at some point in the early afternoon (Stampfer 2005: 158-162). It is worthy to note that these recollections include the taking of attendance over the course of the seder , as the informal and unstructured nature of the study demanded some level of accountability.

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam's morning seder features some but not all of the elements of Volozhin's learning structure. Historian Shaul Stampfer asserts that havruta , while attested in Volozhin, was not the norm. Rather, students were expected to engage in their lernen individually, a mode supported by the social and architectonic elements of the beit midrash (2005: 160). He credits this practice to the goal of maintaining high academic standards; any student incapable of a high level of independent study did not belong in Volozhin. Stampfer maintains that the havruta system provides "recourse to the weak student (2005: 162)," and has speculated that the proliferation of havruta learning may be dated to the post-World War I move of

Yeshivot from an elitist model to an inclusive one in which every adult observant

87 male was expected to engage in Torah study. The inclusion of the masses in the lernen endeavor necessitated some mechanism whereby the mediocre learner could receive support, and the havruta model provided this outlet (Stampfer 2000). Whether or not havruta is as integral to lernen as it is perceived to be, the perception of authenticity has made it a widespread feature of Torah study in many institutional/school settings (Finkelman 2003, Segal 2003). I cite the historical background to the havruta practice because I believe this pattern may shed light upon other practices reflected in the learning structures at Darkhei Noam.

The morning seder structure at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, modeled, as we have suggested, be it directly or indirectly, upon the Lithuanian Yeshivah, designates the time from nine AM to one PM for Talmud study. This seems to express an ideal of a community of learners who spend their days in the sacred space engaged in lernen , and offers relatively unstructured time and space within which to practice this ideal.

This structure, in the context of an educational institution, also suggests what

Bernstein calls weak framing , in which teachers and students experience a range of options and therefore relatively high degree of control over any or all of "the selection, organization and pacing of the of the knowledge transmitted and received in the pedagogical relationship (Bernstein 2003: 248)," as well as fluid boundaries between contexts, or weak classification (Bernstein 2000, 2003). One would expect, within this structure, to find students determining the timing and order of their study, as well as boundary-crossings in terms of the use of the space, as we have discussed above regarding prayer. In other words, over the course of four hours, students may be expected to carve out their own intellectual, social and spatial niches in which they undertake the prescribed activity, lernen . However, once again the ideal is mediated

70 Jews of European descent

88 by the fact that the community is made up of youngsters within the institution of school. Therefore, in reality the block of time is broken down into discrete segments that assist in providing structure and focus to the morning.

The tendency to move from weak classification and framing to strong classification and framing, creating structure even in educational settings that ideologically eschew it, is well attested. I would like to submit the move from individual to havruta study as one example of this phenomenon within the institutional confines of the Yeshivah. Another example may be found in the trend in the 1960's and 1970's to construct open plan schools. While the architectural openness may have been designed to foster and support a particular ideology-driven style of teaching and learning, in practice, the lack of structure implied by open classrooms and "open" teaching was anathema to the institution of school. As a result, many open plan schools gravitated towards ways to impose structure. Studies and observations found the increased use of timetables or of student tracking by level, imposing rigidity and structure where many of the schools did not have them previously, thus figuratively "closing" the education that was intended ideologically to be "open."

Similarly, many schools and teachers reacted by literally closing the physical space, through the strategic placement of bookcases and bulletin boards and demarcating specific areas through the arrangement of furniture (Bennett & Hyland 1979).

The use of time and space within the beit midrash during seder retains a high level of fluidity, or weak framing. Thus students move about freely and sit where they choose, and not according to grade level or class grouping. Their activity is loosely structured, as each havruta pair negotiates the order and substance of the lernen , to varying extents as reflected in the student statements we will see below. In other words, the sacred space retains its ideologically designated character, but other

89 structures of time and space are implemented to limit and thereby support and sustain the beit midrash .

5.6 Sacred Time: Structure from without

In the realm of time, a lengthy, uninterrupted "morning seder " of learning, such as the nine AM to one PM block identified in some recollections of Volozhin, followed by a shiur , does not happen at Darkhei Noam, despite the nine-to-one designation on the schedule. First of all, the shiur takes place during, and not following, that designated time. Second, seder halakhah , though ultimately suspended for Rav Uzi’s class, is carved into that block. Third, all sorts of other classes and gatherings take place during morning seder throughout the week. Rav Uzi convenes the boys in the classroom not once but twice on the average day (and sometimes a third time as well). One of these times is used for Talmud class, which we will define for the moment as any discussion of the Talmudic text and associated commentaries that the students are studying on an ongoing basis, and that they are expected to address in their havruta learning. The other time that the class is convened, which may be at the beginning, middle or end of the four-hour block, is devoted to something else. Topics that I observed ranged from current events to personal religious development, including (but not limited to): elections (Israeli and U.S.); reactions to deaths of Israeli soldiers in Operation Cast Lead in Gaza; the question of what it means to be a religious person; the world economy; reflections on Rabbi

Shlomo Carlebach; laws of heating food on the Sabbath; a geographical and chronological map of Rabbinic Judaism; and the intermingling of the sexes in contemporary society. These presentations and discussions take place during the slot designated as Talmud, reflecting weak classification, or a high level of permeability to disciplinary boundaries. At the same time, on a structural level, they are recognized

90 by those enacting them as being something other than Talmud. Thus, when giving the schedule for the day, Rav Uzi would refer to one period as "gemara " and to the other as a petihah /"opening" or segirah /"closing," depending upon the timing. The students, too, would talk about when they were going to have gemara , or "shiur gemara ," meaning the class session specifically devoted to Talmud. In this way, alongside the suggested weak classification of subject matter, this is a move that strengthens the framing regarding time and also draws attention to boundaries, ultimately strengthening the classification as well.

Rav Uzi and his students spent much time on the issue of time apportionment and management. The teacher would outline a schedule for the day as part of the initial classroom meeting, yet once in the beit midrash , "when are we going to class?" was constantly an issue. The announced time would frequently pass with no movement. The arbiter of the time was not the clock, but Rav Uzi himself. When he announced that it was time to go to class, the students began gathering their books to go. Of course, there were those who used their watches as independent keepers of the time, which meant that they would wind down their learning and then aimlessly wait for group movement. Similarly, Rav Uzi’s frustration with time, and specifically the amount of time that it took to get from one location to the other, was expressed through explicit discussions in the classroom, frequent chastising of students, and numerous comments directly to me. Yet, the relative fluidity of the schedule prevailed. There was a block of time known as "morning seder " and, on an ad hoc basis, all kinds of more structured learning activities took some of the time, leaving on average an hour to an hour and a half of time spent learning Talmud in the beit midrash. The school’s ethos supports this fluidity, to the extent that anything else would be anathema. One day during my second observation cycle, Eitan called me

91 over to see a paper that he had noticed taped inside the door of one of the cubbies at the back of the beit midrash . The paper, produced by another Ram for his class, featured a written schedule, a weekly timetable indicating when during morning seder which activities would take place, including Talmud class, "openings," "closings," seder halakhah , and beit midrash learning. Eitan thought this would interest me because it was the first time he had ever seen such a thing at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

While the school does run based on such a timetable, distributed to students and staff alike, the official timetable does not break morning seder down into its various components. Math, History, English – all of these classes have set time slots, though there are no bells to indicate that a class is to begin or end. However, morning seder retains its ostensible affinity to the classic Yeshivah, while bowing to the exigencies of the institution of school.

The struggle between "Yeshivah" and "school" continued to play itself out in the arena of time management and scheduling of morning seder . After leaving the classroom for several weeks between observation cycles, I returned to discover hanging on the classroom bulletin board a schedule for morning seder , much like the one that Eitan had excitedly shown me as an aberration. Rav Uzi explained that the seniors were having so much difficulty using their time productively that he thought a timetable would set clear expectations and increase on-time and on-task behaviors.

Yet he, too, related to the schedule as if it were a radical innovation within the beit midrash . A twenty-five year teaching veteran, he described the move with wonderment and repeatedly checked the schedule, commenting to the students and to me upon his pleasure at adhering to it ("See, it’s been two weeks and I’m still on schedule!"). This posturing enabled him to retain the façade of open, unscheduled morning-seder , with the timetable a temporary modification to that structure, rather

92 than the encroachment of the standard structures of schooling upon the sacred time and space. In other words, the strengthened framing of which time is and is not spent in the beit midrash enables the time spent in the sacred space itself to remain weakly framed.

5.7 Sacred Space: The "Oitser"

As we have seen, the drastically reduced beit midrash time nonetheless reinforces the beit midrash activity , as non-lernen activity is moved to space other than the beit midrash , generally the classroom. The beit midrash space is also subject to negotiation, as it houses its sacred activities of prayer and study, yet must accommodate other modes of activity as well. The majority of other activity, as we have seen, is physically relocated to the classroom, strengthening boundaries and classification on a spatial level. However, within the beit midrash building itself, there is a space that has a mixed character, of "school" space and of sacred space.

Mentioned briefly above in the architectonic description of the beit midrash , this room is otsar hasefarim ("The Book Storehouse"), known as the oitser .

The oitser is a small library of Torah-related books, organized topically and color coded. There is a table in the center, surrounded by benches and an assortment of chairs, and there is an additional small area off to the side defined by bookcases and holding two or three chairs. The student who initially introduced me to the room and its name described its function: "Sometimes it's quiet, sometimes you talk, sometimes you learn. Everyone does whatever he wants there. It's just a room with books. There's nothing special." This student equates non-specialized with non- special . However, perhaps this is precisely its unique feature.

The room is generally available to students, and I observed both prayer and lernen activities within. These activities treat the oitser as part of the sacred space of

93 the beit midrash . It does not house a prayer service or Talmud study separate from those transpiring in the larger area, but serves as contiguous space into which those activities spill, subject to the desires of the participants and reflecting the same level of classification as we have seen in the beit midrash itself, strengthened by the removal of all foreign activities.

At other times, however, the room is used as a classroom, apparently on an ad hoc basis. On one occasion, Rav Uzi came from the beit midrash to the classroom to collect me at the time designated for shiur , telling me that "the class decided that we’ll learn in the oitser ." This attests not only to the weak, or mixed, spatial classification, but also to weak framing in terms of use of space, in that the students are able to decide which space will be used in what way at a given moment in time. When someone chooses to convene a class in the oitser , others are expected to restrict their activities to ones that are compatible with the class. However, they are not expected to vacate the space. Anyone who would like to continue quietly reading, finding a book, or praying does so, provided the interaction among those enacting the situation of

"class" may be conducted without vocal disturbance. Thus the space is more weakly classified than the main area of the beit midrash , and is rather a site of boundary- crossing in the arenas of time and space (Bernstein 2000: 45).

In addition to time and space, Bernstein discusses a third category which is subject to classification, the category of discourse. Weak classification is associated with a competence model , as opposed to a performance model , of pedagogy. The pedagogic discourse within a competence model is characterized by the measure of control that the students exercise over their learning, and in terms of text, "recognition and realization rules for legitimate texts are implicit (Bernstein 2000: 45)." The strength of discursive classification at Darkhei Noam, and the status of boundaries in

94 the oitser in particular, may be evidenced through the selection and organization of the books in that space. The texts all relate in some way to Orthodox Judaism as practiced at the Yeshivah and by the community that reflexively sustains and is sustained by it, and are written in Hebrew (or Aramaic, as relevant). However, the range of texts is broader than that found in the beit midrash itself, and the organization and labeling are akin to those found in a library, color-coded, as mentioned above, by discipline. 71 Unlike the Talmud-centered selection in the beit midrash , which includes multiple copies of the Babylonian Talmud as well as some medieval commentaries and some Bibles for reference, the collection in the oitser ranges from Biblical to contemporary, as primary texts and as commentaries, and directly addresses normative, philosophical and emotional arenas of Torah.

Stampfer discusses the Talmud-centered curriculum of Volozhin, noting that halakhah study received greater attention in earlier than in later periods at the

Yeshivah (2005: 55). He further describes the involvement of students in Torah learning in non-Talmud disciplines:

The study of Bible and Kabbalah was also assigned an important place at the Yeshivah. R. Hayyim himself taught the townspeople a daily class in the weekly Torah portion, and there were also students from the Yeshivah who came to hear their Rabbi. On the Sabbath R. Hayyim taught a class in the Ethics of the Fathers. There were no classes in Kabbalah or mysticism, and the students who were interested in doing so learned these topics independently…R. Hayyim, like the Gra [Gaom of Vilna], valued Musar books highly, and especially the books of R. Moshe Hayyim Luzatto (Ramhal), but as we have said, the focus remained on gemara (Stampfer 2005: 56, translation mine).

This description relegates non-Talmudic study to other times and audiences, the Sabbath and the townspeople, respectively, or to independent student initiatives.

Thus the classification within Torah disciplines remains strong, with Talmud

71 The categories include: Mehqar (Research/academia); Rishonim (Talmudic commentaries and legal works from the Medieval period); Aharonim (Talmudic commentaries and legal works from the

95 receiving the greatest investment of time and attention and apparently the most highly valued, while all other areas of study take place but are not actively fostered. Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam exhibits similar characteristics to Volozhin in this regard. Talmud is the primary endeavor, and other areas are present but secondary. The library in the oitser functions as a repository for such contents, removing them from but retaining their function within the sacred space of the beit midrash . Thus, on the level of discourse, the oitser exhibits weaker classification than the beit midrash .

What boundaries are reflected in the use of the oitser ? Beyond the sometimes a classroom/sometimes a beit midrash hybrid, I observed three particular events and features that may further our understanding of the classification of not only the oitser , but also the classrooms and ultimately the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

First, as a non-programmed and non-designated space (or: weakly classified), the oitser is a place for ad hoc meetings that do not have another home. Thus I observed recruiters from post-high school Yeshivot meeting with students in that room, and similarly, the oitser was where I conducted many of my interviews with students, providing it was available at that time . My interviews were generally conducted in the space off to the side, while the recruitment sessions took place around the table and took the form, essentially, of a guest shiur . It is not uncommon at the Yeshivah for a visiting Rabbi to give the students a lecture or shiur ; I observed one such instance in Rav Uzi’s classroom. However, the guest lecturers visiting for recruitment purposes were sanctioned but not sponsored by the school. The optional session was relegated to a non-programmed space, as it did not reflect school programming per se. The oitser could house such an event, as it was an event of a

Torah nature; note that there were no Army recruiters sitting with students in the

Modern period); Halakhah ; Midrashic works; Reference; Kabbalah; Prayer and Holidays; Hashqafah

96 oitser , even though many of the boys were involved in the recruitment process and attended off-site activities offered by particular units or branches of the IDF. The oitser thus exhibits relatively weak spatial and relatively strong discursive classification.

Second, and more revealing, is the case in which an event had a designated space, but was purposely moved to the oitser . One day immediately preceding Rosh

Hashanah, Rav Uzi distributed pages copied from a Hasidic work addressing the relationship between man and God. It was just after eleven AM on a Sunday. The school day was beginning late, as is the custom on a Sunday after the students have been home for Shabbat, allowing those who live some distance from the school ample opportunity to return in time for class. The optional Shabbat in Yeshivah was canceled, but the students were required to return to school on this particular Sunday, even though Rosh Hashanah began Monday night and there was no school on

Monday. When Rav Uzi announced the schedule change on the previous Tuesday, he staved off potential student complaints about having to return to the Yeshivah just for

Sunday, saying, "it is inconceivable that a ben yeshivah /Yeshivah student would go into Rosh Hashanah without an atmosphere of "before Rosh Hashanah." The

Yeshivah, and not the boys' homes, would provide such an "atmosphere," and that was the goal of convening on this Sunday.

Echoing this sentiment in his classroom at 11:10 Sunday morning (in the presence of only six students, although approximately twenty of them should have been there ten minutes earlier), Rav Uzi announces, "I want to do something in preparation for Rosh Hashanah. I want to learn in the oitser and not in the classroom –

[there is] more of an 'atmosphere of qedushah /holiness.'" The oitser , perceived at

("World View"); Hasidism; and Bible.

97 times as non-specialized space, in this case is shown to possess a very particular character. I follow the teacher and the students, more of whom arrive and join along the way, to the beit midrash and into the oitser , and begin setting up my recording equipment as usual. Rav Uzi approaches me to say that there has been a request by students that I not record this session, as they may say "personal things" and were uncomfortable being recorded. I find myself a place in the small area behind the bookcase, to observe and listen without recording and without my presence interfering with the activity that was about to transpire. The desired atmosphere of "holiness" is attained through a sense of intimacy and of privacy, in the space that borders on, and is part and parcel of, the sacred space of the beit midrash . It is here that the students discuss, with some reference to the text in front of them and without a great deal of verbal involvement by the teacher, the nature of divine justice. The students speak animatedly, responding to each other's comments directly and addressing each other in the second person. Rav Uzi interjects quietly a few times, but leaves it to the students to offer statements (retrieved from my field notes) such as: "My goal is to allow HQB"H to enter"; "You look at the world from a very narrow point [of view]…"; "HQB"H says, I love you despite the fact that you commit a transgression, or perhaps even because of it."; "The question is, what is awe? Awe isn't fear." They reflect upon the process of teshuvah /repentance, and one student suggests that the idea of teshuvah changes with each generation and questions the relevance of the text they have been reading. To close the session, Rav Uzi gives a pre-Rosh Hashanah message, as the students listen silently and intently. At no time during this event did a student adopt a confessional stance, sharing of his own transgressions or misdeeds.

This discussion was fairly abstract and generalized; I observed some far more

"personal" statements over the course of my time at the Yeshivah (and there was no

98 recording restriction on those occasions). It is possible that confession was anticipated, and then did not materialize. However, it is the students themselves who objected to being recorded, suggested that, for them, whatever was going to transpire would be by definition personal. Perhaps it was the confluence of the sanctified time, right before Rosh Hashanah, and the sanctified place, the oitser , that altered the tenor of the discussion and rendered it "personal," intimate, and "holy."

A third feature of the oitser that may shed light upon its status is a small room that abuts it, connected by a door. This room housing several chairs and a small, low circular table, is known as "Rav Na’eh 's room." Rav Na’eh is a venerated Rabbi whose religious philosophy has influenced the school and who has been involved in its operation to varying degrees since its inception. He visits the school on occasion, addressing a class, a grade, or the entire school, and also receives students for personal consultations. On the day that I saw him at the school, and indeed conducted an interview of sorts, one student played the role akin to the assistant of the Hasidic master, walking Rav Na’eh from place to place and keeping him apprised of his schedule. After his public address to the twelfth grade, he was walked to his office and students lined up to speak with him. The little room off of the oitser , his office, formed, when he was there, a secondary charismatic locus to the main beit midrash .

When he was not there, the room was kept locked and was not used for any other purpose that I observed. It is not an office in the conventional sense; there is no desk, no books, papers, computer, or personal effects. Rav Na’eh 's room is not located in the building housing the administrative offices of the Yeshivah, including that of the

Rosh Yeshivah. Nor is one of those offices or the teachers' room or any number of possible spaces vacated for him to receive students when he is on campus. Rather, there is a locked room reserved for this purpose; one must walk into the beit midrash

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and then into the oitser in order to access the Rabbi. This almost gives the impression

that, as the beit midrash is terra sancta , the oitser leads into the sanctum sanctorum .

Having explored the activities that are removed from the beit midrash , limiting

the time spent there but and also delimiting its boundaries of space and discourse, we

return to morning seder in the beit midrash itself.

5.8 Students and teachers: "Most of the work, we do in seder ."

The morning seder in the beit midrash is, as we have seen, connected to a

shiur that takes place in the classroom. The independent study functions as

preparation time for the class. Itamar summarizes the structure of the morning as

follows:

1 So the Ram opens with the day’s sugya . What’s going to be…what was. What 2 interests us. What we’re trying to grasp. Try to grasp alone. What might…which 3 questions might arise for you. Or let’s say he just, to challenge. Think about a 4 question here. Two questions here. It's general background to what’s going to be 5 and it is generally a reminder of what was. To mention what was is generally so 6 that we’ll be in the mindset of today’s sugya . So we’ll be inside. If you miss it 7 then it’s also generally hard to be in morning seder . Um…sometimes it doesn’t 8 happen but usually the Ram explains the background, gives a page or doesn’t 9 give a page, and sends [the students] to the beit midrash . To seder . Which is 10 generally an hour, give or take. In which the students learn the gemara alone 11 like in iyyun , which means to learn the Rishonim and stuff….Uh…afterwards 12 we go back to class. We talk about what the Rav wanted us to grasp. About 13 what we did grasp or didn’t grasp. And…that’s it. A summary or an 14 introduction for the next day if we still didn’t complete a sugya , and that’s 15 generally the structure.

The Ram, or the Rav, as Itamar also calls him, is central to this conception of

morning seder . The teacher is the one who "opens" (line 1), and who determines

"what interests us " (line 2), the collective group, and even "which questions might

arise for you " (line 3), the generalized individual learner. The sugya is understood to

have a particular "mindset" (line 6) and "background" (lines 4, 8), which are known to

the teacher and which he transmits to the students. The Rav "gives a page" (or

100 doesn’t) (lines 8-9), and the goal of the students in the beit midrash is to grasp "what the Rav wanted [them] to grasp" (line 12).

What role does the Ram play in this process? His job, as presented by Itamar, is to frame the learning. He distributes pages, gives some idea of what issues may arise from the text, and gives "background." This background is "general background." It puts the student "inside" the sugya . Being "inside" the sugya is prerequisite to learning it, to having a fruitful seder : " If you miss it then it’s also generally hard to be in morning seder ." In other words, the teacher provides some context and direction, and without this context and direction, Itamar feels he would be lost.

Rav Uzi's part in the students' learning, ends, however, with these contextualizing activities. Even as he outlines the issues, they are issues that the students will "grasp alone" (line 2). The Ram "sends" (line 9) the students to the beit midrash , but the students alone undertake the lernen activity: "…the students learn the gemara alone like in iyyun , which means to learn the Rishonim and stuff…" (lines 10-

11). The verb "learn" appears twice, as does the adverb "alone" (here and in the earlier quote). Lernen is construed as a definitionally independent activity. "Like ( ke'ilu ) in iyyun " is a self-rephrasal of what it means to "learn the gemara alone," and learning

"Rishonim and stuff" is a further elaboration of the contents of that activity. For

Itamar, the seder activity requires no further elaboration than this sentence. He has named the place ("to the beit midrash ") and has used it interchangeably with the name of the event taking place there ("to seder "). He provides a time frame ("Which is generally an hour, give or take."), and then his three-clause sentence (lines 10-11) equating "learn gemara alone" with "iyyun ," and that in turn with the commentaries studied to give the iyyun /depth to the base text, gemara . It took him more time to

101 describe the framing that the Ram may provide to the learning; that is less obvious, and may vary, but the lernen itself is a given constant.

Teacher and students alike maintain that within the seder-shiur structure, seder is the deserving recipient of the greatest focus. Thus Rav Uzi says:

1. I think that I transmit to them that the seder is more important than the shiur and, eh…in fact, if someone would think about it, he would see that I don't prepare the shiur so much like I prepare the seder . 2. Meaning, I prepare a topic, generally, or a section in peshat /plain meaning, but I prepare it and I know more or less what there is to say about it, but I, sometimes I'll say it, sometimes I won't say it. 3. Sometimes it will go according to what they prepared or didn't prepare during seder . 4. Or according to what they bring up and…I'll try somehow to nonetheless insert what I have to say at some point. 5. And it isn't as if I have a pedagogical shiur planned to the end on most days.

For Rav Uzi, the fact that the shiur depends, in form and in content, upon what transpired in the preceding seder (lines 3-4), demonstrates that "the seder is more important than the shiur (line 1)." The student preparation, or lack of preparation, impacts upon the flow of the lesson, though the teacher generally manages to "insert" what he has prepared (line 4). This segment describes the character of the shiur more than that of the seder , which he goes on to address:

6. Eh…during seder time I hope they'll get into the idea that they have to understand that there's something here to understand. 7. And …I-I think that most of them don't really get into that mindset. 8. Meaning, ah…all in all most of them do more or less what they need to do during seder . 9. But it isn't so intensively. 10. There are those who really work intensively because they are really seeking something; most of them don't know exactly what gemara iyyun is, and it's a process, and this is how it has to be. 11. First of all they have to get used to particular patterns of learning and after that, it could be that after a year someone could still say, okay, apparently this is what I do in gemara iyyun . 12. But it isn't as if he receives a clear methodology ah…that the Ram spreads before him some kind of program, something like that.

102

13. I assume that…I and other Rammim also talk a lot about what is gemara iyyun . 14. But I'm doubtful how many students in the class comprehend what it really is. 15. And…ah…there is a minority who definitely comprehend and there is a minority who definitely catch onto it very seriously and they already, ah…either they seek to understand a topic according to worksheets that the Ram gives them, or they ah seek by themselves already. 16. They want to – they go with something, like ( ke'ilu ), there's something they didn't understand so they go with it. 17. That's the minority of cases and the minority of students.

Rav Uzi's goal for seder is that the students will grasp something about the nature and complexity of Talmud study (line 6). The lernen "mindset" (line 7) is one of seeking understanding (line 15), and prerequisite to this "seeking" is the realization that there is a depth that may be penetrated, "there is something here to understand

(line 6)." Reinforcing the activity orientation of the study is the notion that intensity

(lines 9-10) is a barometer for success, and that the successful learner will find something and "go with it (line 16)." Students are to seek what they don't understand

(line 16), rather than perform based upon what they do understand. Attainment of specific knowledge does not feature at all in this description. Rav Uzi himself struggles to define iyyun study, and believes that students and other teachers struggle with this as well (lines 11-14). His own transformation as a learner and a teacher from lack of methodological awareness, through strongly imposed methodology, to his current eclectic stance is of interest in and of itself. 72 However, in the absence of a prescriptive methodology, his concept of optimal seder learning for more advanced students is independence and seeking (lines 15-16). The corpus of study is defined by student comprehension and interest, the ability to "go with" what they "didn't understand." Rav Uzi is also certain that, on the one hand, the majority of the students

72 See pp. 229-230.

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are compliant with the basic demands placed upon them (line 8), presence and some

type of activity at seder , but on the other hand, they do not invest themselves in their

learning; one who does not "seek" will not work "intensively." It is perceived

behavioral and affective qualities, and not cognitive abilities, that are most pertinent

to the learner/ lerner , and these are best played out in seder , as opposed to shiur .

Elnatan, an academically strong, socially mature and well-liked boy once

referred to by Rav Uzi as "Elnatan haTsaddiq /the Righteous," echoes Itamar's position

that the authentic learning takes place in seder , while the shiur frames that activity:

…seder , that you prepare most of the sugya , you learn most of it. Rav Uzi in class, he expands, he closes it. Most of the work, we do in seder .

The students do not merely prepare for class; they "prepare the sugya ," by

"learn[ing]" it. Rav Uzi's role is structural; note the spatially oriented verbs that

Elnatan uses to describe this activity ("expands," "closes"). The students, however, do

the "work," and the time and space for this work is the seder .

5.9 Making choices: "Seder …I do make sure to come."

Several students expressed a personal preference for seder over shiur . For

instance, Ron is less attentive in shiur than in seder , and uses the shiur primarily as it

addresses issues that he encountered in seder :

1 I’m here and there…I, I’m present for sedarim . But I’m a little spacey in 2 shiurim , and also sometimes, occasionally, when it’s really interesting, then I 3 participate…Primarily – again, I learn primarily in the sedarim . So in the 4 shiurim beforehand I’m no so…like, if I didn’t understand something in seder , 5 then I’ll remember it for the shiur and I’ll listen to what they say.

His physical presence in seder is contrasted with his wandering mind

("spacey"/ merahef , line 1) in shiur . The criterion for participation is whether "it's

really interesting" (line 2), and the reason to "listen" (line 5) in shiur is to fill in gaps

remaining from seder . Furthermore, the object of the listening is "what they say ( mah

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omerim )" (line 5), not, for instance, what the teacher says. His understanding is

enriched by the discussion among his peers, and the classroom provides the setting for

this discussion. Ron's minimization of the teacher's involvement in the classroom

learning goes hand in hand with his preference for the independent, student-driven

seder .

For Avidan, a quiet student, it is precisely the involvement of all of his peers in

the classroom discussion that influences his stated preference for seder :

1 I don’t really like shiurim because just shiurim uh…in shiurim , the way it’s going by 2 us in the class this year, uh…each person brings his opinion to the gemara and…like 3 (ke'ilu ), what the gemara says, what…eh…interprets the gemara according to his 4 opinion. And…sometimes I don’t …agree with that. Sometimes I think that…just like 5 (ke'ilu ), read the commentaries, understand them, and lots of times, that’s, that’s 6 what’s right. Yeah? So I prefer to sit and learn gemara like ( ke'ilu ), in seder . It’s 7 much more fun for me.

The activity of gemara is not subject to "opinion" (line 4) but may be

accomplished by "read[ing] the commentaries, understand[ing] them" (line 5). This is

subject to an absolute value statement, "that’s what’s right," limited though it is by a

modifying clause ("lots of times"), by hesitation ("that's, that's"), and by agreement-

seeking (Yeah?") (lines 5-6). The natural home for this activity is not shiur but seder ,

as, through the self-rephrasal ke'ilu , Avidan restates "learn gemara " as "in seder " (line

6). Finally, the reason for the preference of seder is summed up through the oddly

placed "It's much more fun for me" (lines 6-7), deviating from the earlier attempt to

categorize seder as the "right" way to learn.

Affective goals akin to "fun" find expression in Rav Uzi's stated aims for seder :

1 …all the years, one of my…main goals in all of this involvement with gemara 2 iyyun in the morning is that a student will like, will like it, that he'll be happy 3 with it, that he'll be in a good mood with it. And…I – I think that we largely 4 achieve that here. 5 And…ah…anyway, my primary goal is that they feel good with it. That they 6 feel that, that, it's part of what I want in all ah…I want for them to be happy as

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7 Jews. And learning Jews (or: "And Jews learn," Heb. veYehudim lomedim ) 8 and…that that should be part of it.

Wanting students to "like" the learning, to "feel good," to be "happy" and in a

"good mood" (lines 2-3), however, is not aimed at the students as individuals, but at

socializing those individuals to be part of a broader community. They are to be happy

"as Jews," a particular type of Jews, "learning Jews" (lines 6-7). The second

translation above of the ambiguous participle lomedim leads to a more radical claim,

that part and parcel of being a Jew is to learn. Being "happy," or having "fun," for that

matter, in learning is designed to socialize students to affiliate with the broader

community of Talmud learners. These two segments of Rav Uzi's interview frame a

lengthy tangent in which he asserts that Darkhei Noam graduates who continue to

post-high school Yeshivah settings, which most of them do, are found to be well

equipped to grapple with Talmud study on an advanced level:

1 I've heard it from guys who were in other yeshivot [high schools] that come to 2 the Advanced Yeshivot [post-high school], the best ones, and talk about our 3 guys. So that's some kind of objective measure. So apparently they do get 4 something out of gemara iyyun . And also the graduates – I think they recognize 5 that when they get to the Advanced Yeshivah. And – there are those who 6 understand all of a sudden that they don’t know anything. But there are a lot 7 who see that they do know something or know how to learn. They know what to 8 do there.

The "objective measure" (line 3) of Yeshivat Darkhei Noam's success is

positive perception by other members of the broader community of practice, as well

as perception by the graduates themselves when they encounter other settings within

and members of that community. However, this success is not directly associated with

the "feel good" and "happy" that Rav Uzi articulates. Rather, it is rooted in "knowing

something," interpreted in this activity-centered setting as "how to learn" and "what to

do" (lines 7-8). Implanted in the "happy" explication, this segment draws attention to

106 the dissonance between the individually-oriented approach and the overwhelming emphasis on community, and on the crucial role that the type of Talmud activity found in seder plays for the community.

The hallowed tradition of seder , whose authenticity it preserved by limiting its scope, as we have seen, highlights the conflict between the Yeshivah structure and the schooling structure, with surprising results. The primacy of and personal preference for seder impacts upon student prioritizing, as Avidan candidly describes:

1. Generally in sedarim I…do ( ken ) make sure to come. 2. Unless there’s something really…unless I really don’t feel well or something like that. 3. The shiurim , in general I like being in them less. 4. So sometimes I don’t go. 5. But I usually try to go. 6. So…if I don’t go, it’s either that I continue to learn in the beit midrash or…it depends…it could also be that I know that let’s say now I have, I don’t know, a test in some, uh…in math, let’s say, today, or something like that. 7. And I know that I don’t know the material. 8. And I, and when I’m troubled by that anyway I won’t succeed in learning in class or listening or something like that. 9. So I’ll just think what to do. 10. All kinds of things like that. 11. So uh…it could be that I’ll just go practice. 12. Or that…sometimes I’m really tired, so instead of going to sleep in the class I go to rest in the [dormitory] room. 13. Because…more than a few times the situation is created that we go to sleep at very late hours.

Avidan's emphasis on the fact that he does indeed attend seder (line 1) anticipates a contrast with another framework that he does not conscientiously attend, the shiur (line 4). It also highlights the weak framing of Yeshivat Darkhei Noam and the amount of individual choice that the students take for themselves, even when it is not offered. He feels himself committed to seder , and requires a strong reason to justify skipping it, beginning his sentence with a general statement and rephrasing with a specific example (line 2). Regarding shiurim , on the other hand, which Avidan

107 introduces by placing the noun at the beginning of the sentence and using a pronoun in the direct object position, he requires no specific excuse to absent himself; he doesn't "like being in them," and therefore may skip them (line 4). This information is followed by a quick assertion that "I usually try to go (line 5)," in Avidan's attempt to cast himself as a "good student," one who adheres to the institutional structures.

The greater emphasis on seder over shiur is intuitive to the world of the

Yeshivah and counterintuitive to the institution of school. In Volozhin, the shiur was optional, and some accounts claim extremely low attendance. Students would be reprimanded for missing shiur only if they were not using that time in what was deemed an appropriate fashion, for Torah study. The students were given, and took advantage of, a large measure of independence and autonomy in determining their study schedules. This weak framing allowed them to decide what they would learn, how, when and where, but they were required to "learn as much as they could

(Stampfer 2005: 101-102)."

In school, on the other hand, accountability is everything. A student's absence from shiur is more obvious than his absence from seder , and one might expect that for this reason, a student would skip seder more easily than he would skip shiur . This expectation was confirmed in informal interviews with students from several other

Yeshivah high schools in Israel that maintain similar morning schedules to that at

Darkhei Noam. These students expressed the opinion that if they or their fellow students were to skip part of the morning of learning, they would absent themselves from seder but would make sure to attend shiur , citing both the content of the activity that takes place there and, more adamantly, the risks associated with missing each.

The more formal and closely supervised the activity, the more important it is in the eyes of the student. This is not the case at Darkhei Noam. Avidan’s expressed

108 preference to attend seder and skip shiur attests to the relative weight that each carries at Darkhei Noam, and to the choices available to the individual even as he is part of the learning community.

The rest of the segment features Avidan's chosen ways of filling his time when he skips shiur . "It’s either that I continue to learn in the beit midrash or… (line 6)" suggests that this is a primary option, the first thing that comes to mind as a default activity before he begins pausing and offering concrete examples of other types of options, which may include studying for an exam scheduled for later in the day (lines

6, 11) or going to sleep (line 12). Each of those alternate activities is provided a justification (lines 7 and 13, respectively), while the potential gain from the classroom acitivity is downplayed (line 8), and Avidan describes himself as weighing the options: "So I’ll just think what to do (line 9)."

This example elucidates several aspects of seder at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

First, the beit midrash learning is the highest priority for the community. Second, the learner exercises some measure of autonomy over his individual learning. Third, the stated and/or enacted values of the community are but one factor in the decision- making process of the individual.

Before we delve into the learning activity itself, through student descriptions and analysis of a havruta learning session, I would like to offer some general observations about the beit midrash activity during morning seder .

5.10 Challenges: "To take advantage of this seder "

The number of students in the beit midrash ebbs and flows over the course of the morning. Classes arrive and depart, each on its own fluid schedule. Furthermore, individual students wander in and out. They go to the water fountain just outside the building and linger at the bulletin board; they sit on the grassy area opposite the beit

109 midrash or on the concrete wall that abuts it, and indeed they sometimes take their

Talmud volumes with them; and they appear from and disappear towards the direction of the classrooms and the dormitories. At times, the room feels full to the gills, and at others, nearly empty.

Within the beit midrash , there is never silence during seder , but the noise level and quality varies over the course of the morning. There is the boisterous noise of scuffling around, getting books, finding seats, and talking to friends. That is, the noise of "getting settled," but not yet the noise of learning. Then there is the noise that carries with it a hum, even a loud hum, punctuated by interjections here and there.

This noise is accompanied by a feeling of intensity, a sense that the majority of the people in the room are focused on the activity at hand. This is not to say that there is no movement, no side conversation; indeed, the trickle of students in and out of the room continues throughout the seder , as does the wandering and talking within the beit midrash . However, the beit midrash at peak occupancy carries an atmosphere of learning/ lernen activity that serves to mask and perhaps even diminish other activities within the beit midrash .

Reflecting upon learning during morning seder , Rav Uzi and his students address some of the attendant difficulties. Amihai is one of the stars of the class. A short, compactly built, smooth-cheeked, sandy-haired boy with braces on his teeth, he appears younger than many of his classmates. However, his loud voice, which he amplifies when speaking in the classroom setting, and his confident rapid-fire speech, despite a slight stutter, lend authority and presence to his participation. Amihai exhibits mastery of the basic skills of Talmud study, and aims to conceptualize the material and add his own insights. A likeable boy frequently called by his last name,

Heineman, he and Tsuriel are known as a formidable havruta pair. By many counts,

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they sit and learn consistently, dependably, and successfully. However, Amihai counts

himself among those who have difficulty attaining the focus necessary to learn. After

speaking at some length about what he thinks most of the people in the class learn

during seder , asserting that even if Rav Uzi gives specific instructions regarding what

to do, "he knows that it isn't, isn't certain that that's all that everyone will learn," I

asked him whether it is "certain" that everyone will indeed learn. He responded:

1 No [it isn't certain that everyone will learn]. Not me, either ( gam ani lo ). 2 Ah…like ( ke'ilu ), it’s a lot of work. No, there are lots of temptations in the beit 3 midras h, in the Yeshivah. Why not to learn this. I need to do that, I want to 4 sleep, to talk to someone I haven’t seen in two weeks. It’s…it’s a lot of work. 5 Internal work. I need like ( ke'ilu ) a limit for myself in order to take advantage of 6 this seder .

Amihai answers "no" regarding the generalized "everyone," and then includes himself

explicitly (line1). He then uses the discourse marker ke'ilu as a focus-marker, as

discussed above, offering the "unpredictable element of the utterance," to characterize

the beit midrash activity as "a lot of work" (line 2). For Amihai, the explanation for

lack of focus and participation in the beit midrash is pragmatic; it is difficult, and

therefore students, including himself, do not always succeed.

The next sentence (line 2) begins with "no," and this use of "no" differs from

that at the beginning of the quote. The first "no" (line 1) directly answers a question

that has been explicitly posed; its semantic function is to negate that which has been

posited. The second "no," however, functions as a discourse marker and fills a meta-

linguistic function characterized by Ziv (2004) as a "givenness marker." The

givenness marker relates to some assumed knowledge outside of the immediate

context. This function of "no" offers the negated statement as something which may

be held in the positive as prior knowledge. Thus, by saying, "No, there are lots of

temptations in the beit midras h, in the Yeshivah," Amihai reveals what he perceives

111 as a common assumption that there are not temptations in the beit midrash , but that the beit midrash is rather a space conducive to exclusive focus on study. It is possible that his statement was specific to the context, an interview with an outsider; he assumed that I personally had a particular preconceived notion of the nature of the beit midrash , and negated that notion. However, it is also possible that the idea of the beit midrash as a sacred space singularly devoted to sacred endeavors and repelling all others functions as an idealized model for the participants themselves, and it is this model that he negates.

Amihai's non-specific "why not to learn this" and "I need to do that" (line 3) yield a sense that there are competing activities that foster rejection of the learning in favor of other pursuits. When it comes to the specific examples that he offers of such activities, "I want to sleep, to talk to someone I haven’t seen in two weeks" (lines 3-

4), they are physical and social in nature, respectively, and not a competing task that is intellectual or religious in nature, or an opposition to such activities.

5.11 Sleep at the Yeshivah: "Checking out"

Sleep, as we have seen, is a chronic issue for the students at Darkhei Noam. They awake early for prayers, have few breaks throughout the day, and maintain a school schedule that includes study into the hours of the night, in the form of the night seder that we have explored above. Furthermore, the dormitory setting promotes even later nights, as we have seen above in Avidan's list of alternative activities to class attendance, "more than a few times the situation is created that we go to sleep at very late hours." Similarly, Eitan, recounting a story of falling asleep in class alongside his roommate, explains, "Like, we just kind of leaned on the wall, we were overwhelmed with exhaustion. We were in the same [dormitory] room and we simply felt…we hadn’t slept too much." Rav Uzi struggles in class to keep certain students awake, and

112 in one instance that I observed, he revised a student's schedule and exempted him from participating in certain class and seder activities so that he would get some much-needed sleep during those times and function appropriately when he did attend.

The discourse of sleep at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam is yet another arena in which the ethos of the traditional Yeshivah comes into conflict with its enactment in the schooling setting. In Volozhin, sleep deprivation per se was not practiced; all-night study was not encouraged, as this would interfere with the ability of the individual to function productively the following day in terms of his Torah study. Rather, students were expected to learn continuously from nine AM until nine PM (or ten, by some accounts), and to function optimally during that time. At the same time, there was value placed upon sustaining all-night learning within the community. To that end, there are accounts of compulsory three-hour mishmar/ night shifts in the beit midrash , assigned to groups of students on a rotating basis according to their seating arrangements (Stampfer 2005: 102). The need of the individual to sleep is balanced against the need of the community to sustain continual learning activity, and on the individual level, there is a separation between daytime activity and nighttime activity.

The day is exclusively for study, and the night, when not also devoted to study, is devoted to sleep. Daytime activity may encroach upon the night, as seen in the mishmar arrangements and Stampfer's assertion that many students in fact returned to the beit midrash after a late evening meal to continue learning until midnight or beyond (2005: 159). However, sleeping during the day is not a common or accepted practice.

At Darkhei Noam, there is a broader range of daytime activity than that found at

Volozhin. In addition to the stronger framing discussed above in terms of scheduled classes of various types, the high school students participate in a full load of secular

113 studies; from three PM, their time is given to other academic pursuits. This block of time is interrupted by the afternoon minhah prayer service and bounded by dinner.

Night seder is compulsory for an hour or two, after which some students continue learning and some engage in other activities. Following night seder , there are various optional extracurricular activities of the sort frequently offered outside of school settings, such as martial arts and drama. As much as Torah study, especially Talmud study, occupies primacy of place, acceptable activity is more diverse at Darkhei Noam than in the traditional Yeshivah setting. Furthermore, interpersonal relationships are prioritized, both among the students and within the institutional structure. For instance, the twelfth graders participate in a biweekly "sharing session" which Eitan described in illustration of the school’s emphasis upon personal and interpersonal development:

You sit in a circle and everyone there can say anything to someone else, to the entire grade. Generally to an individual person, in general. You can say anything to an individual person. You can tell him something good, something bad, anything, anything, anything, and people like…No, no one is required to speak. Ah…and he isn't supposed to answer you, it isn't the opening of a discussion. You say what's in your heart. Like, you, you pour. And…it's interesting what people say, like. People simply say what they feel. So…when a person opens up to you like that. You become more sensitive to what ah…he thinks.

Students develop and value their relationships with each other, and the time they spend together is viewed as a legitimate use of that time. Amihai’s "temptation" other than sleep is "to talk to someone I haven’t seen in two weeks." The emphasis on talking, being with friends, carries over into the nighttime activities at the school.

Implicit in Eitan’s description, "We were in the same [dormitory] room and we simply felt…we hadn’t slept too much," is social engagement within the dormitory that prevented the roommates from going to sleep at an earlier hour. While I was unable to observe the sleeping patterns of the students directly, Rav Uzi spoke on several

114 occasions about the late nights in the dormitory, and the students seemed to regard the dormitory experience as a positive and active social endeavor.

It is simple to surmise that students who are not getting sufficient sleep at night will hear, and sometimes heed, the siren calls of their beds during daytime hours. Furthermore, the adolescent years are characterized by an increased need for sleep, including daytime drowsiness and napping, particularly for boys in the late teenage years (Giannotti & Cortesi 2002). However, the diversification of daytime activities combined with the spillover of nighttime activities, sleep, into the day and daytime social behaviors into the night may suggest something beyond this in terms of the ways that activities, time and space are demarcated at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

To explore and develop this possibility, we briefly turn to socio-historical and cross- cultural analyses of sleep.

In a cross-cultural analysis of anthropological data "across a worldwide range of traditional forager, pastoralist, horticulturalist, and agriculturalist communities

(Worthman & Melby 2002: 71)," Worthman and Melby explore what they term the

"ecology" of human sleep on the micro and macro levels. They discuss issues such as the sleeping space and arrangements; the presence of fire; the presence of animals, both domesticated and predators; and sleep and social activity, including conversation, rituals, travel, and social status. Not surprisingly, they find that social activity conducted during the night impacts upon sleep patterns. In some societies, such as the !Kung and the Efe, there is an expectation of nighttime conversation. This

"night talk functions to entertain, pass time, address conflicts and disputes, and work through and solidify relationships (2002: 85)." Similarly, dances and feasts may take place at night, once a month among the Gebusi and more frequently among the

!Kung, extending past midnight or all night. Ritual activities are frequently conducted

115 at night. This is "perhaps in part to minimize conflict with routine daytime activity, and largely to take advantage of the special features of associations with night." The amplified intensity of experience in a sleep-deprived state is the route to an "inner detached spiritual state" among the Balinese, and is exploited for initiation rituals in many cultures (Worthman & Melby 2002: 86-89).

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam seems to share some of these characteristic nighttime activities. The students report talking with each other late at night in their dormitory, and Rav Uzi reported to me on several occasions that he had been at the school very late the previous night, involved in personal counseling with students. Similarly, certain activities are reserved for the nighttime, and both reasons cited above for relegating rituals to the night hours would appear to apply to the Yeshivah as well.

For instance, Talmud tests 73 take place on Thursday nights, and not during morning seder (or its associated class time). I have considered two possible explanations for this. One is to preserve the notion of the pristine morning seder devoted to intensive study; scheduling exams during that time would explicitly introduce the Discourse of school, tipping the balance in the ever-present tension between the Yeshivah and the school in an undesired direction. The second is to make the test part of a larger ritual.

As described by Rav Uzi, Thursday night mishmar takes the following form. Dinner time is pushed off by half an hour to lead into the mishmar . After eating, the students sing and perhaps dance. After that, they spend several hours reviewing for the test, and take it "when they are ready," frequently around eleven PM or midnight. Then, they remain in the beit midrash and learn until they choose to go to sleep; some may retire around midnight, others in the wee hours of the morning, and still others may not sleep that night at all. In this manner, the test is part of a late-night heightened

116 experience devoted to celebrating Torah study and its ongoing review, 74 in which the test plays but one small part. As Wortham and Melby suggest, perhaps these explanations may co-exist.

Thus far, we have explored the incursion of daytime activity into the nighttime hours. What of the reverse, nighttime activity during the day? In other words, with all of this nighttime activity, what are the mechanisms to compensate for lost sleep?

After all, the !Kung and the Gebusi engage in "sleep catch-up (sleeping in, napping, and earlier bedtime) (Wortham & Melby 2002: 86)" the day after their dances and feasts. For Darkhei Noam students, there is no school on Friday. Rav Uzi reported that the boys need Friday to sleep after their late Thursday night. He suggested that this is difficult to achieve, because they also travel home on that day, a longer journey for some than for others, and that is the only day for them to schedule appointments and driving lessons and anything else they do during their limited time outside of the

Yeshivah. 75

Aside from Fridays off, sleep catch-up opportunities are generally not provided. The students have free time from after lunch until 3 PM, and may use this time for socializing; learning in the beit midrash (alone with a havruta ); attending one of many optional lectures and special events available on a one-time basis; and sometimes attending a class that has been scheduled for that slot. It may be that some of the students use the time to "rest" or "sleep," but it does not seem to be generally viewed as a designated naptime.

73 Beqi’ut and iyyun are tested on alternating weeks. 74 In a similar vein, the annual school-wide Talmud contest culminates in a late night quiz, complete with student skits and other performances and concluding with singing and dancing, and the bi-weekly “sharing session” described above also takes place late at night 75 The Sabbath is restricted from such activities.

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Flexibility in the morning start time, beginning with prayers, is rare. Morning seder begins an hour later than usual on Sundays following weekends at home, to allow the students time to return to the Yeshivah after praying in their home communities. On only one occasion did I observe an ad hoc late start time due to lost sleep the previous night. There had been a false alarm of a terrorist infiltration at the school over the course of the night, and when I arrived the following morning and found prayers and class to be running late, I was told about the events of the night and that the day had officially started one hour later. This dramatic example highlights the institutional regulation of the sleeping/waking divide; people are expected to awake by a certain time, and once awake, they are expected to conduct daytime activities until it is time for sleep, at which time, as we have seen, the boundaries between daytime activity and nighttime activity are more fluid.

Daytime sleeping, then, may indeed fill the function of sleep catch-up. There is no scheduled time for this much-needed activity, so students opt out of other things

(such as seder or shiur ) to attain it. However, the social function of sleep in general may shed further light upon this question. Recognizing that "the sleep role is socially, culturally and historically variable," Williams (2005: 74) posits rights and responsibilities related to sleep in "contemporary Western society." Relating to

"tension release" as discussed by Parsons (1951: 396, cited by Williams 2005: 73), sleep is a means for the individual to have a break, or a time-out, from social interaction. Thus, the rights include "exemption from normal role obligations/ relinquishing of conscious waking involvement in society"; "freedom from interruption from other (waking) members of society, except in times of emergency"; and "no loss of waking role status whilst asleep (Williams 2005: 74)." With these rights come responsibilities, which, along with sleeping in a designated place, include

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"conform[ing] to the general pattern of sleep time, unless legitimate social circumstances, such as work arrangements, dictate otherwise (ibid.)." In other words, when engaging in the activity of sleep at a socially acceptable time, one is exempt from the usual activity of the social setting.

Darkhei Noam students seem to exercise this exemption even when it is not a readily apparent "legitimate social circumstance," but during time that is designated for the social activity of learning. However, we have noted that the demarcations between sleep and wakefulness, particularly in the nighttime, are somewhat blurred in this setting, and this may lead to their blurring in the daytime as well. The function of sleep as a time-out mechanism in traditional societies may serve as a vibrant parallel to the sleep behaviors at the Yeshivah:

Notably, sleep or the appearance of sleep offers one way to "check out" of interminable, slow-moving circular, or frustrating debates. Because the boundary demarcating sleep and wake is fuzzy in the culture settings under discussion, where both sleeping and waking are viewed as social behaviors, a retreat into sleep can represent an acceptable way to withdraw from active social engagement. Such withdrawals feature in men’s meetings and houses. Thus, a Gabra man in the midst of a meeting or extended discussion may simply pull his cloth over his head and roll over to "sleep." "Check-out" sleep behavior may occur by day as well as night (Worthman & Melby 2002: 85).

The students are hardly pulling their cloaks over their heads in the middle of a discussion, but perhaps their descriptions of extra-beit midrash activity may serve the same function. If a student experiences difficulty or discomfort at a given time with the full engagement with lernen/ learning that is the expectation at the school, it is not socially acceptable in this setting for him to say that he needs a break, or that he wants to hang out with his friends, or, for that matter, that he just wants some time by himself to do nothing. However, the need for sleep is granted sufficient legitimacy to be considered as a "check-out" during seder or instead of shiur ; after all, by all counts, the boys are tired. I did not follow them to their dormitory rooms and do not know

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whether the boys who are "sleeping" are in fact sleeping, or are resting in their beds,

or are otherwise finding a way to have a quiet time-out. In the quote above, note that it

is not only sleep but "the appearance of sleep" that provides a break from social

discourse. Perhaps, due to the quasi-legitimacy granted to the plea of tiredness, saying

that he needs to sleep is a socially comfortable way for the student to claim the social

rights associated with sleep, in a setting in which there is very little built-in time out.

Rav Uzi, discussing what the students actually do during morning seder ,

addresses this phenomenon. Interestingly, he does not say that the students "go to

sleep" but that they "go to the dormitory":

1 The majority? They do more or less what they need to do. Meaning ( ke'ilu ) they 2 work according to the worksheets on a given day. There isn't a worksheet, they 3 have to learn an amud . They have to learn Tosafot so they work on the peshat , 4 try to understand, get caught in some problem or difficulty, get stuck, they stop, 5 they take a break. They go to the dormitory. Come back. Don't come back. 6 Ah…all these dep- it depends on the season in the year, it depends on…ah…the 7 ability of the student to concentrate and…ah…

We will return to the first half of the quote shortly, as we continue exploring

the morning seder activity. Generally speaking, though, Rav Uzi outlines what the

students "need to do" (line 1) in the beit midrash , assessing their performance

moderately favorably ("more or less"). Invariably, he says, "they get caught in some

problem or difficulty, get stuck" (line 4). This is the moment of frustration, the time at

which the students want to "check out" of the interaction. This is when "they stop,

they take a break," and part of this break may entail "go[ing] to the dormitory," for

which they "come back" or "don’t come back" (line 5). Rav Uzi views their behavior

as the students availing themselves of a needed break in an interactional sense, and

does not explicitly maintain the narrative of sleep. Rather, the behavior is correlated

with social circumstances on the macro and micro levels: "it depends on the season in

the year, it depends on…ah…the ability of the student to concentrate (lines 6-7)."

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It is this ability to concentrate, to in fact engage in the learning, which is cited

as a major challenge by many of the students. Let us revisit the end of Amihai’s

comment about the "temptations" in the beit midrash :

It’s…it’s a lot of work. Internal work. I need like ( ke'ilu ) a limit for myself in order to take advantage of this seder .

The focus marker ke’ilu points to the self-discipline entailed in the "work" of

the beit midrash . The seder is intrinsically something "to take advantage of," and the

potential impediment is not textual or intellectual ability, but the ability to make

oneself engage in the activity. In a similar vein, Avidan offers:

1 For me, since….you can…like this. If you manage to learn and the learning 2 goes [well] and…you have…then you learn. Then I learn really well. And if it’s 3 just kind of neither here nor there, the time’s just frittered away. You do 4 nothing, and then, uh…less so.

Either "you manage to learn" (line 1) or "you do nothing" (lines 3-4). Success

lies in the proper use of time, which otherwise is "just frittered away" (line 3).

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Chapter 6: Havruta Learning: "Kind of the best way to do that"

With the reflections and challenges attendant to beit midrash learning in mind, we turn to the primary lernen structure, the havruta. On an average day of my field research at the school, Rav Uzi would send the class to the beit midrash with some sort of direction, as we have seen above. This direction occasionally took the form of a chart or worksheet to fill in; more frequently a photocopied page with commentaries relating to the Talmudic text, along with some guiding questions; and sometimes a verbal instruction to prepare a certain amount of text, perhaps with commentaries to which the students had easy access in their own volumes of the text, such as Tosafot, which is printed on the same page as the Talmudic text itself. The majority of the students would leave the one-room caravan housing the classroom, while several would crowd around Rav Uzi’s desk asking him questions about the previous lesson or, more often than not, asking him to give them permission to leave the school for some personal reason, or other administrative issues. Sometimes a student would wait in the classroom speaking with Rav Uzi at greater length, but most of the time, this group would disperse and Rav Uzi would gather his books and make his way towards the beit midrash . By this time, anywhere from under five to ten or more minutes may have elapsed from the time that the majority of the students left the classroom, armed with instructions for their beit midrash time as well as a projected end time to that activity, at which they were to reconvene in the classroom.

I would leave the classroom either ahead of or at roughly the same time as Rav

Uzi, who would occasionally speak to me during the walk to the beit midrash . Along the way, there tended to be students loitering along the pathways among the buildings and in the dormitory area. Rav Uzi commented to me and to the entire class, on separate occasions, that it took the average student twenty minutes to move from the

122 classroom to the beit midrash , which is at most a three-minute walk at a leisurely-to- brisk pace. Rav Uzi would herd some of the students towards the beit midrash , and his appearance was sometimes sufficient incentive to get them moving. Meanwhile, some students would have gone directly to the beit midrash , and would be settling down to learn.

6.1 Triads and Tribulations: Getting Settled and Semiotics

I initially noted the amount of time it took for the students to settle into their learning activity when I was first trying to find havruta pairs to observe. I would walk around the beit midrash , identify the students that I recognized from Rav Uzi’s class, and discover that they were sitting alone, or were walking around, or were sitting and talking with a friend who may or may not have been their havruta . They would be getting their books, or standing around, or doing any number of things that made it difficult for me to discern who was sitting down with whom, and where. I learned to wait ten minutes or more as the seder took shape, 76 and then approach a pair already in progress. 77

The semiotics which characterize the beit midrash learning at Darkhei Noam are influenced by the architectonic elements of the room. As mentioned above, the room is furnished with benches which face the Aron Qodesh defining the front of the room. A narrow table spans the length of each bench; these tables are often strewn with accoutrements of both prayer and study. Thus, in order to study with a havruta partner, the students sit side by side on the bench, on the same side of the table. The result is that, as they learn, they both face the text in front of them, and do not

76 At least for Rav Uzi’s class, as other classes would have arrived earlier, or would even be getting ready to leave. 77 By “in progress,” I do not intend to isolate the activity of havruta to the time spent focusing upon the Talmudic text; I will elaborate on this point below. Rather, I intend to indicate the situation in which there is a discernable pair enacting some sort of activity together in the beit midrash context.

123 naturally face each other. However, the lernen activity is accompanied by much shifting and movement, in a vivid illustration of the triadic relationship between partner, partner, and text (Raider-Roth & Holzer 2009; cf. Kent 2006: 210). Each student is equipped with his own volume of the Talmud, and, barring the not- infrequent absence of one partner's book, there are two books on the table, in front of the two students who form the havruta pair. At times, each student reads from his own text, hunching forwards over it or leaning back, perhaps balancing the book against the edge of the table or otherwise propping it up, as the individual interacts with the text (Figure 3). At other times, the students bend towards each other and over one

Talmudic tome, in a visual enactment of the relational triangle, with the partners engaged with each other and with the text (Figure 4). At still other times, the students turn towards each other, in conversation physically unmediated by the text; this is when they tend to gesticulate and to expressively raise their voices, engaging with each other (Figure 5).

Figure 3 Figure 4 Figure 5

The havruta pair does not function in a vacuum. Many studies of havruta have, to greater or lesser extents, decontextualized the interaction. For instance,

Tedmon (1991) isolates the pair of children for observation; Avni (2008) is faced with a pair learning alone in a classroom, until the teacher joins them for a large part of the analyzed segment; and Kent (2006; 2010) analyzes interactions between two adult learners participating in a Beit Midrash for teachers, but does not describe the setting

124 or relate to any other learners. I found that, at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, havruta is a fluid and dynamic process, situated within the beit midrash . Aside from the comings and goings and getting settled, as I have described, seder is characterized by multiple interactions. A student may begin learning with someone else, even someone from another class, 78 in the absence of his own havruta , and may switch in the middle if his own partner appears. A pair may be approached with a question about the material by a student from another pair, or someone may just stop by to talk. Similarly, one or both havruta partners may seek assistance from classmates or from the teacher, or may seek a break. All of these interactions are part of the tapestry of the havruta dynamic as enacted in the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

6.2 What’s in a Havruta : "To also listen and learn"

For several students, part and parcel of describing their learning activity included a discussion of the qualities that they seek in a havruta . As we have seen above, a central theme of the beit midrash narrative is the difficulty of achieving and maintaining focused engagement. In other words, the participants speak not of a cognitive or intellectual challenge, but of a social and activity-centered challenge.

They view Talmud study on some level as a situated and contextualized activity, so it is no surprise that they take an interactionist view of the havruta activity. In the following quote from his interview, Avidan touches upon several themes that are key to his learning activity.

1. First of all I don’t…in order to learn with a havruta I need him to also listen and learn. 2. If, uh…if it’s a situation where I’m the one who’s reading, uh…explaining and, like ( ke'ilu ), teaching, and he’s like ( kazeh ) spacey like ( kazeh ), that I have to periodically like ( ke'ilu ) get him to focus, then it doesn’t go.

78 The entire school studies the same tractate at the same time, at a generally coordinated pace.

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3. Like ( ke'ilu ), I’ll tell him that either we’ll stop learning if I see that it…like ( ke'ilu ), if I know it’s not usually like that. 4. And if I see that it’s like that all the time and I have to teach him then I don’t know what I’ll do. 5. Like ( ke'ilu ), no, I haven’t encountered such a situation. 6. Usually yes, usually if you get into that kind of mood it’s a one-time [thing]. 7. And…we just learn. 8. Sometimes, a lot of times, we also just talk about all kinds of things that are bothering [us], or about next year, or what do you think about this, what do you think about that. 9. We just talk. 10. Meaning, as friends. 11. And...and…we also learn.

Expressing the qualities which for him are incompatible in a havruta , Avidan enumerates dispositional traits. He is not interested in learning with someone who is

"spacey" and does not independently "focus" (line 2), though he concedes that it is generally just a "kind of mood," one to which he is also apparently susceptible, as he uses the generalized "you" (line 6). At the same time, he lists many activities that are undertaken, including "listen" and "learn" (line 1), "reading," "explaining," and

"teaching" (line 2). If one person is always reading and explaining, Avidan uses the ke'ilu of self-rephrasal to characterize these actions as "teaching." Yet he seemingly does not demand a fully active participant; the other person need not read and explain; rather, he is to "listen" and "learn" (line 1). Note, however, the use of "also"; it is the role of both participants to "listen and learn". If everyone is listening and learning, then who is talking? "Learning" is apparently used here in the sense of lernen , and

Avidan uses the term several times without explanation or qualification. For him, "we just learn" (line 7) is a known activity, and it seems to encompass reading and explaining. Reading and explaining become "teaching" when they are primarily one person's responsibility; when both people are equally involved, "we just learn."

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Learning is an active and activity-centered endeavor which is contrasted by this student with two other activities. One, as we have seen, is "teaching." The schooling-oriented teacher-learner dichotomy is broken. Within the Discourse of school, the constructed identity of teacher is contrasted with the constructed identity of learner, or student, with the latter the object of the efforts of the former ("the teacher teaches the student"). However, within the Discourse of Yeshivah, where there is a learner/ lerner , there is no need for a teacher. The second point of contrast is between "learn" (lines 7, 11) and "talk" (lines 8, 9). "Talk" is expanded in terms of subject matter (line 8) and contextualized (line 10). Talking "as friends" is not the same as learning. It is, however, part of the beit midrash activity that Avidan describes. This description is bounded by two brief summary statements. First, after extensively discussing what could be a problematic havruta dynamic (lines 1-4) and adding the caveat that this is not the "usual" situation (lines 5-6), he addresses what may be understood as the usual activity: "And…we just learn (line 7)." This sentence closes the teach/learn contrast and then introduces, or is limited by, the talk/learn contrast. During the activity designated as "learning" (and located in the time and space marked as such), there are two activities that take place. The talk about "talk"

(lines 8-10) is closed with the second brief statement: "And...and…we also learn (line

11)." Note the move from "just" to "also"; learning is not the exclusive activity, but takes place alongside "talk." Each of the summary statements is preceded by the place-holding "and…" (once in line 7 and twice in line 11), with the pause leading to a swiftly spoken and definite statement, a sharp contrast to the expansive explanation of "talk." To learn is to undertake the activity of the beit midrash . When the students

"talk" "as friends," they discuss things of immediate contextual relevance to them:

"…all kinds of things that are bothering [us], or about next year, or what do you think

127 about this, what do you think about that." When they "learn," the unnamed object of their study is something to "read" and "explain," a text. The content of the study is not its most salient feature.

Similar features emerge from Binyamin's statements about learning. Binyamin is a tall, athletic-looking boy with dark hair and a clean-cut look. His clothing is more in consonance with the fashion of the surrounding culture than that of most of the boys; he is one of the few boys sporting jeans, and his T-shirts bear logos of trendy name brands, as well as the ubiquitous political campaign and youth group event selection found on many of his fellow students. He wears a small flat knitted kippah whose size identifies him as among the more religiously "modern" elements at the yeshivah, but not so small as to label him a "rebel." He is a presence, by virtue of his size and attentiveness, in the classroom, but is not frequently a vocal participant. I observed him getting permission on a number of occasions to leave the school and miss classes due to volunteer work with sick children. He comes across in his interview as a mature and responsible person who does what he needs to at school but does not make it his top priority through full personal investment.

Binyamin's discussion of his learning relates to interactions between the learner and the text, interactions between the learners, and interactions among the full triad. First, we find the challenge to indeed engage in the learning: "Okay, so as a person, from experience, there has to be something that grabs me, like, so I’ll learn, because if something doesn’t grab me, I simply won’t learn." From this sentence, it appears that Binyamin locates his success in learning, that is, that he engages in the activity, with a quality intrinsic to the object of study combined with the way that he relates to it. The object of study plays the active role; it has to "grab" him. However, even that which is presented as intrinsic to the text is interactionally constructed:

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1 You need someone who understands that, like, he remains with his own 2 opinions, but he also understands that there are also other opinions aside from 3 his. There are people, say, that as far as they’re concerned their opinion is what 4 there is, and then, like, if you say something else logical they won’t agree to 5 accept it. But if he understands that, like, there’s his opinion, and there’s no 6 problem with it, but there’s also another opinion that also has no problem.

The act of studying the text is rooted in its interpretation, which lies with the

learner. Binyamin seeks a havruta who is able to accept the possibility of multiple

possible interpretations, or "opinions" (line 2). An "accept[able]" (line 5) opinion is

one that is "logical" (line 4) and "has no problem [with it]" (line 6). At the same time,

his expressed preference for a havruta who is "stronger" or "understands better" (line

8) is rooted in a fear of "understand[ing]" and "explain[ing]" "incorrectly" (lines 11-

12):

7 Uh…that’s it, I always prefer to learn with someone who…a drop more…I can 8 call it stronger than me or understands better what’s going on, because when I 9 learn with a hav - like, this year, let’s say that I had a havruta with someone that 10 the Ram paired me with because he thought I could strengthen him. And I…I 11 felt like full responsibility, because if I understood something incorrectly and 12 explained it to him like that, then he'll understand everything backwards and it 13 isn't like that. So I, I prefer to be led in - at least in this regard.

While Avidan’s concerns relate to a productive learning session as on in which

both participants engaged in the learning activity, Binyamin begins to address the

havruta activity as it relates to the third member of the triad, the text. His sense of

unwanted "full responsibility" (line 11), however, lies in the interactional space

between partners, not in that between himself and the text. He is worried about

leading a havruta to "understand everything backwards" (line 12), but does not

express concern about the fact that he himself may have an incorrect understanding of

the text.

Examples abound in which students express the view that the havruta

interaction is a key to their learning. There are different points of emphasis, from the

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dispositional and motivational to the textual. The former has emerged from Avidan’s

statements, and another brief example includes Shaul’s comment: "Havruta learning,

so, like there’s the…aspect of the argument, like, of the…like, you get into it yourself

naturally…" Learning with a partner, through "argument," helps the students to "get

into it yourself." The latter, an approach that places greater emphasis upon the text, is

exemplified by Tsuriel:

1 The thing about morning seder is to show up with the gemara. To understand 2 the gemara in depth. Better. To learn gemara . So havruta is kind of the best 3 way to do that. And…because each person really gives his own ideas. [People] 4 listen to each other. Give to each other. Think together. Now it’s impossible 5 only in havruta , there are like classes of the Ram, that he leads. That he 6 summarizes. That he gives his own ideas, and that’s less essential. The essence 7 is the havruta . And also with the havruta , it’s hard to learn, because there are 8 lots more other interesting things. Sometimes you need some longer shiur .

This framing of the seder opens with "gemara ," a term used three times in the

first two lines. It is what is brought (or "show[n] up with"), "underst[oo]d…in depth/

Better," and "learn[ed]," seeming to locate the learning with the artifact itself.

However, this enactment of gemara is also situated in the interactional space, with the

havruta deemed the "best way" to accomplish it through the generation of "ideas"

(line 3) as the partners "listen," "give" and "think" (line 4). Moreover, the role of the

Ram and the shiur , which we have seen marginalized earlier as well, is to alleviate the

problems that so many of the students as well as Rav Uzi have discussed; the reason

that "sometimes you need some longer shiur" (line 8) is given as, "it’s hard to learn,

because there are lots more other interesting things" (lines 7-8) in and around the beit

midrash . The substance of the shiur , however, for the Ram to "lead," summarize,"

and, most of all, "give his own ideas," is "less essential" (lines 5-6). Note that Tsuriel

prioritizes the students’ "own ideas" (line 3) in seder over the teacher’s "own ideas" in

shiur . Thus, like Binyamin, he views interpretation as learner based, with multiple

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interpretations interactionally constructed, and he rejects the notion of a single

canonical interpretation to be received from the teacher.

6.3 Students on Havruta : "What we want to learn today"

Amihai offered a lengthy step by step description of his havruta learning

activity, which may serve as a window into the relationship among the triad of

partner, partner, and text, as well as a fourth possible member, the history of

interpretation.

1 So like this. First of all, I…I can tell you what I do. I don't know…so usually it 2 starts with a sort of coordination of expectations. What we want to learn today. 3 If…if it's what Rav Uzi gave, a combination. Then like ( ke'ilu ) you have to…to 4 think in what direction, like ( ke'ilu ). Whether, whether you go now with the 5 peshat /plain meaning of the sugya /Talmudic discussion. We want to explore 6 (or: research) something specific that we saw. That's like ( ke'ilu ) the beginning.

Amihai’s first step, then, relates to the learners. They engage in "coordination

of expectations" to determine what they "want to learn" (line 2). The students perceive

themselves as having a high level of autonomy in their choice of subject matter,

despite the fact that the teacher has generally sent them to the beit midrash with

specific instructions. In this manner, Amihai characterizes his learning with Tsuriel as

weakly framed and therefore potentially closer to the Discourse of Yeshivah than to

the Discourse of school. As we have noted, Amihai and Tsuriel are known as one of

the top pairs of Talmud learners in this class, and they seem to be farther from the

periphery, to use Lave and Wenger’s (1991) terminology describing the move from

novice to expert, and closer to full membership in the community of practice than

many of the other students in the class. They decide what they "want" to learn, and

specifically whether or not that will include all or some of "what Rav Uzi gave (line

3)."

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The decision whether or not to follow the teacher’s instructions, alone or in

"combination" with what the students want to learn, is placed upon one axis which may be useful in analyzing the locus of the learning, which we shall call the teacher- student axis. If students view themselves as bound to conform to the teacher’s directives in their learning activity, they may enact one of two models, or perhaps both simultaneously. One is the model of teacher-student in the Discourse of school, and the other is expert-novice in a community of practice. They may follow the teacher’s instructions because of his institutional authority, or they may do as he says because he is the expert guiding them in their study. If, however, students move along the axis at will, applying other criteria to determine whether or not they will follow the teacher’s plan for seder , their enactment conforms more strongly to the expert- novice model, in which the novice follows the guidance and model exemplified by the expert, but as he gains expertise, functions more autonomously as part of the community of practice. Amihai has described his own activity in a way that is suggestive of a community of practice model. As we continue to analyze his presentation, the tensions surrounding the role of the teacher will further emerge into relief.

We have thus far characterized one axis of the decision making process that

Amihai describes as the teacher-student axis. Whichever model of teacher identity is enacted, for the moment let us note that this axis is learner-centered. The havruta partners determine whose wishes they will follow, and to what extent, and this is a learner-learner interaction. The next part of Amihai’s statement above introduces the third member of the triad, the text. The pair "think in what direction" (line 4), a phrase bound by two hedges using the discourse marker ke’ilu . The following sentences present the choices that the learners face for this "direction": "Whether, whether you

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go now with the peshat /plain meaning of the sugya /Talmudic discussion. We want to

explore (or: research) something specific that we saw" (lines 4-6). The choice is

between the "plain meaning" and "explor[ation]." The former is depicted as something

that resides in and is inherent to the text, while the latter is interactionally constructed

between learner and text. This axis, as well, is fraught with tension. Just as the nature

of the teacher’s authority and its impact upon the student come into question through

the first axis, here, the question is the degree to which the interpretation of the text is

regarded as residing with the text itself, or is regarded as residing with the learner.

This entire process is labeled, using the focus-marker ke’ilu , as merely "the

beginning" (line 6). The next segment of Amihai’s description further reveals the

complexity surrounding the second axis.

7 And then okay. We see the…the gemara . Ah…usually there are like ( ke'ilu ) 8 essential questions in the sugya . Questions that we, what do we want to 9 elucidate. What what we want. I don't know. Now we're learning lately 10 primarily in the form, like ( ke'ilu ), how does this impact upon all of our 11 understanding regarding simanim /identifying features [of lost objects]. 12 Ah…things like that.

The "essential questions in the sugya " (line 8) are identified with the text

itself, at the same time as they depend upon what the learners "want to elucidate"

(lines 8-9). Amihai places his study within a broader conceptual framework, using the

text at hand to construct "understanding regarding simanim /identifying features [of

lost objects]" (line 11). Thus the text is not merely an object of study, it is a means to

construction of knowledge and understanding. The role of the text and the role of the

learner, or the second axis that we have identified, continue to emerge in the final

segment of Amihai’s description of his havruta activity but, as we shall see, he also

returns to the first axis, that of teacher-student.

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13 And then we try. Lo-lot's of times we don't work like ( ke'ilu ) it is possible to 14 work together and in a way like ( ke'ilu ) ah…each person thinks to himself 15 for a few minutes. What he sees, and then we share with each other. 16 And…you get stuck, also. You don't know…you don't know how to progress 17 with the sugya . Ah…where I'm taking it. But ah…you take it, and then and 18 then if you want…like ( ke'ilu ) you see other things. Like ( ke'ilu ), Rav Uzi 19 gave us that we go to the Rishonim, like ( ke'ilu ) Qovets 20 Mefarshim /"Collection of Commentators." Something like that all the…and 21 we also go talk to Rav Uzi or with other people (Heb. hevre , referring here to 22 classmates). We talk about things that bother us in the sugya . Things like 23 that. The time is up, usually. Too quickly.

In a much more tentative echo of Avidan’s "we just learn," Amihai’s account of the essence of the learning activity is "And then we try (line 13)." This striving is couched in terms of the interaction among the pair, which Amihai describes as joint activity ("to work together") even as each one "thinks to himself" (line 14) in order to

"see" and then "share" (line 15).

Of particular interest in this segment is the use of the verb "to see," which appears three times: (1) "And then okay. We see the…the gemara " (line 7), (2)

"…each person thinks to himself for a few minutes. What he sees, and then we share with each other (line 15)," and (3) "But ah…you take it, and then and then if you want…like ( ke'ilu ) you see other things. Like ( ke'ilu ), Rav Uzi gave us that we go to the Rishonim, like ( ke'ilu ) Qovets Mefarshim /'Collection of Commentators' (lines 17-

20)." The semantic range of the Hebrew root of "to see," r-'-h, extends beyond physical perception with the eyes to include gazing or scrutinizing, attentiveness, selection, and ultimately, understanding (Even-Shoshan 1993,5: 2435). Even-Shoshan cites examples of these usages in Biblical Hebrew, but a similar range is found of course in modern English usage as well. A person may "see that," "see why," or "see how." She may "see that the sky is dark," in an act of visual perception, or may look around and say "I see that I should be getting home now," as the conclusion relates to

134 an unstated visual perception. Furthermore, a person can "see your point," exclusively in the sense of understanding.

Eve Sweetser (1990) addresses roots related to vision (as well as other senses) in English and Indo-European languages. She shows that "vision verbs commonly develop abstract senses of mental activity (loc. cit. 33)," and concludes that while hearing is related to "the communicative and subjective internal self (loc. cit. 41)," vision is relegated to "the objective and intellectual mental domain (loc. cit. 37)." The connection between vision and intellection is associated with the notions of "objective data" and "knowledge." In other words, the epistemological underpinnings of the mind-as-body metaphor relate to knowledge as an objective thing external to the individual, which may be perceived and then internalized by that individual in the same way as he perceives a physical object using his eyes. At the same time, Sweetser

(1990:38) looks to verbs such as "grasp" to demonstrate the element of control and monitoring as part of the range of vision terminology as it relates to both physical and intellectual processes. To know something is to be able to control and manipulate it.

In this way, the questions related to the usage of vision-related verbs, and ultimately to the epistemology of learning, tie into the issues we have raised regarding the text- learner axis in Talmud study at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. It is important to emphasize that thus far we have related to the ways in which the participants themselves describe and construct their activity.

In this vein, let us return to Amihai's three utterances involving the verb "to see." The first instance, "And then okay. We see the…the gemara (line 7)," seems to relate to physical vision. There is a physical object, "the gemara ," which the students perceive visually. However, Amihai clearly does not mean that they spot the book, that they discern that it is in fact the gemara . Rather, the sense of his utterance is that

135 he and his havruta "see" the segment of the text which is the object of their study. To

"see" it, then means to visually scrutinize it so as to comprehend it; to "see" the gemara may therefore mean, to read it and attain some understanding of what has been read. This is not, however, a complete understanding, as they then have to "try"

(line 13). This first use of "see" may therefore be characterized as some sort of interaction between the learner and the text, which is separate from and to be perceived by the learner. The second appearance of the verb "to see" removes the gemara itself (as a concrete entity separate from the learner) from the activity:

"…each person thinks to himself for a few minutes. What he sees, and then we share with each other (lines 14-15)." If the learner "sees" by thinking, he clearly refers to the metaphorical vision that is related to mental activity. In this case, the attainment of understanding is indicated more than the attainment of knowledge. Even if one conceives of knowledge as existing outside of the individual, understanding resides with the individual, or in the interactional space between the individual and the knowledge.

The process of "think
see
share" is presented as a way of constructing meaning through learner-text and learner-learner interface, in which the act of thinking "resides" in the individual but is useful only as he "see[s]," an act that appears to relate to the text, as we have discussed, and then "share[s]," an act that relates to the interactional space between the learning partners. However, this progression does not always yield understanding. Just as Rav Uzi described, Amihai finds that the frequent next step in the lernen process is, "you get stuck (lines 15-16)."

In that case, the student-learner has two avenues of recourse, to "see other things (line

18)" and to "go talk to Rav Uzi or with other people (lines 20-21)." What is the nature of each of these activities, in relation to the two axes that we have identified?

136 The third instance of "see" in Amihai's description is perhaps the most ambiguous, but, reading it contextually, it may be the most literal: "But ah…you take it, and then and then if you want…like ( ke'ilu ) you see other things. Like ( ke'ilu ), Rav

Uzi gave us that we go to the Rishonim, like ( ke'ilu ) Qovets Mefarshim/'Collection of

Commentators'" (lines 18-20). Taken on the heels of the previous usage, to "see other things" may imply the achievement of further understanding. However, the move to the "Qovets Mefarshim /'Collection of Commentators'" seems to indicate the physical

"seeing" of the text of the commentaries, also known as the activity of reading, which is intended to lead to a greater understanding of the primary text, the gemara . The source of this instruction, "Rav Uzi gave us," depicts the teacher as literally "giving" the students the tools to mediate between themselves and the text. It is here that we return to the role of the teacher, along the teacher-student axis.

Amihai describes Rav Uzi as giving the students two things. The first is instructions for what to do in the beit midrash on any given day, and which the students then decide whether or not to follow: "What we want to learn today. If…if it's what Rav Uzi gave, a combination" (lines 2-3). The second is a more general directive, a suggestion for what the students may do when they "get stuck": "Like

(ke'ilu ), Rav Uzi gave us that we go to the Rishonim, like ( ke'ilu ) Qovets

Mefarshim /'Collection of Commentators'" (lines 18-20). The second case is clearly a strategy that the teacher offers his students; when they have difficulty with the

Talmudic text, this is a work that they may consult for assistance. The expert trains the novices in how to proceed with their craft. It seems that Amihai couches the first case in the same light. The pages that Rav Uzi gives the students to guide their activity in the beit midrash are treated as a choice, an option or strategy in terms of how to proceed, but not an "assignment" given to the student by the teacher. In this

137 case, the axis may be termed the expert-novice enactment of what we have called the teacher-student axis. The relative position of a given activity or interaction along that axis then depends upon the level of competence that the novice has achieved, and not, by way of contrast, upon the level of control that the teacher asserts.

In addition to consulting with commentaries to explain the primary text, the students may consult with human resources: "…and we also go talk to Rav Uzi or with other people (Heb. hevre , referring here to classmates). We talk about things that bother us in the sugya . Things like that" (lines 20-22). Here, Rav Uzi again seems to play the role of teacher-as-expert, and not teacher-as-authority, 79 evidenced by the fact that other students are also consulted. Anyone who has gained the necessary expertise within the community of practice is able to share that expertise with other members of the community. A person is "bother[ed]" by something in the text, reinforcing the notion of learning as interaction between learner and text. He then

"talk[s]" to other learners – the teacher or other students – in a move expanding the partner-partner interaction to potentially include any or all other members of the community.

At the same time as the students describe their learning as interactionally constructed by means of their activity, they seek grounding in the history of interpretation. Among the havruta sessions that I observed closely, all read the interpretation of Rashi alongside the text, particularly when faced with a difficulty.

They did not always propose to or otherwise indicate verbally that they were moving to Rashi; it is part and parcel of their reading of the text. The strategy of "see[ing] other things" takes them to a particular canon of Talmudic interpreters, primarily from

79 Using Gee's (2000-2001) terminology of "ways to view identity," the teacher-as-expert reflects an enactment of a discourse-identity, while teacher-as-authority would constitute an institution-identity.

138 the Medieval period. 80 In some sense, they seek to arrive at the interpretations arrived at by others and not to construct their own meanings. Yet they read the text independently until they feel they cannot. While I observed that many havruta sessions involve consultation with Rav Uzi, who as teacher or as expert may embody the history of interpretation, the students' repertoire of whom to consult when they get stuck extends to their peers as well, as we have seen through Amihai's description and which I observed at Darkhei Noam, though with lesser frequency than consultation with Rav Uzi. The questions raised here about the role of the teacher and the role of the interpretive tradition are central to any understanding of this CoP, and are addressed more extensively in the discussion of classroom discourse. For the moment, however, let us note that while Amihai paints a picture of novices moving their way towards full participation in the community of practice and learners interactionally constructing their knowledge, this is not the only understanding among the students of their learning activity. For instance, Avidan, who may be viewed as a more peripheral participant (or, a less-engaged peripheral participant) than Amihai and his havruta

Tsuriel, offers:

1 How do you cover it? You learn…you learn alone. Like ( ke'ilu ), you learn 2 with a havruta . Usually the Rav gives out, each seder the Rav gives pages that 3 afterwards in the shiur we learn it again. You just learn it alone. Generally 4 the…the test, usually the Rav won’t ask you about the opinions of the class 5. members. He’ll ask you about the opinion of the…Rashi or the Rambam. All 6 kinds of those.

This understanding of the Beit Midrash activity locates it on the text end of the text-learner axis and on the teacher end of the teacher-student axis. The object of study is the "pages" (line 2) that the teacher distributes, which the students learn independently in seder in order to "learn it again" (line 3) in class. The test,

80 This canon is exemplified by the Qovets Mefarshim mentioned by Amihai, as well as by the selection of books that I observed the students consulting occasionally during their study.

139 administered by the teacher, is what gives meaning to the study, and is weighted towards the history of interpretation and away from interactionally constructed knowledge. How do these disparate views emerge from the same setting? I would like to suggest three approaches to this question.

6.4 Modes of Participation: An analytical model

First, in a localized sense, the approaches are not so very different from each other. They both support the analytical categories we have generated, the two axes we have discussed, but may be located in different places along those axes. Second, in an extremely general but nonetheless important observation, people may experience the same situation in dissimilar ways. Within the context of a theory of social practice, this perhaps obvious statement represents a particular understanding of the way the world works:

This world is socially constituted; objective forms and systems of activity, on the one hand, and agents' subjective and intersubjective understandings of them, on the other, mutually constitute both the world and its experienced forms (Lave & Wenger 1991: 50-51).

This combination of objectivity and subjectivity in many ways echoes the way that we have approached the text-learner axis, with the learning activity located someplace in the interactional space between them.

The third explanation for the disparity between Avidan's description of his experience and Amihai's description of his experience is that, within this complex community of practice, a learner's experience will depend upon the nature of his peripheral participation. Students at various levels of participation and ability have the potential to experience the community in very different ways, and that the same student may enact his identity within the community in different ways at different times. Such is the nature of peripheral participation:

140 Peripherality suggests that there are multiple, varied, more- or less-engaged and –inclusive ways of being located in the fields of participation defined by a community. Peripheral participation is about being located in the social world. Changing locations and perspectives are part of actors' learning trajectories, developing identities, and forms of membership (Lave & Wenger 1991: 35-36).

In order to better understand the nature of participation in the Talmud CoP in the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, I have found it helpful to conceptualize the two primary axes as epistemological questions. The learner-text axis encapsulates the question, of what, for these learners, is the source of knowledge? The spectrum for this first, theoretical question runs from the text to the learner (whoever that learner may be). What I have called the teacher-student axis represents a second question: within the school setting, who has the epistemic authority 81 to interpret this knowledge? The second, normative question asks whether (and to what degree) the students have the right to an interpretive stance, or whether that right rests with the teacher. 82 It is tempting to suggest that a move from novice to expert is characterized by movement along both axes, with the more expert learner enacting both knowledge and the right to interpret that knowledge as residing with the learner, in this case the student. However, as we have seen, while the picture that emerges from the interview data locates a great deal of interpretive autonomy with the student, it is somewhat equivocal in terms of the source of knowledge.

We have thus far explored beliefs about participation in Talmud study through interview data, and have defined some terms and suggested an analytical model.

81 Kruglanski (1989), working within a psychological framework, proposed this concept to denote a source upon which an individual relies in the process of knowledge acquisition, and has, together with other researchers, expanded the theory to relate to the self as an important source of epistemic authority (Ellis & Kruglanski 1992; Kruglanski et al. 2005). See Keren 2007 for a philosophical treatment of epistemic authority in testimonial transmission of knowledge. For exploration of discursive, socially situated construction of epistemic authority, see e.g. Heritage & Raymond (2005); Glenn & LeBaron (2011). 82 This question goes beyond the schooling situation to the epistemic authority of any Talmud learner, against the backdrop of the interpretive tradition. By formulating the question as a teacher-student axis, as the interview data suggests, I implicitly posit the teacher as representing the interpretive tradition. This issue is addressed more extensively in the context of the classroom data.

141 Further exploration of these and other issues may be accomplished through analysis of the activity itself. To this end I will proceed with the analysis of one observed, recorded and transcribed havruta session. 83

6.5 Data Collection and Selection: "A constant hubbub"

First, several words are in order about the selection process and the pair in question. During my time at Darkhei Noam, I observed and recorded a total of five havruta sessions. These sessions differed from my general observations in the beit midrash , which I conducted on an ongoing basis and in which I observed the activity of the class members individually and as a group against the backdrop of everything taking place in the room, and occasionally stopped by and listened to a particular pair, or made note of their process or methods. Rather, for the havruta observations, I would sit with one pair for the entire beit midrash session, listening, recording and taking field notes on the process and content of their activity. There were a number of logistical hurdles to accomplishing this data collection.

Susan Tedmon describes some challenges similar to those that I experienced, which she resolved by having the students leave the beit midrash and learn in a quiet room, as "tapes made in the Bes Medrash played nothing but a constant hubbub of unintelligible talk (Tedmon 1991:80)." She placed a tape recorder but did not join them, concerned that it would demonstrate a "lack of respect" as "a curious outsider, a woman, and therefore a distraction (loc. cit. 78)." Reflecting upon the tradeoffs of these arrangements, and in light of her interview data addressing this question, she concludes that "off by themselves in a separate room, Tani and Avrami were deprived not only of easy access to certain texts, but of the fraternal aid provided by their

83 The full transcript of the session (in English translation) is provided in Appendix C.

142 fellow yeshiva students (loc. cit. 81)." I decided to avoid these pitfalls to the extent possible, but the result was a limited selection of potentials pairs to observe.

As mentioned earlier, there was a significant time lag between the students' departure from the classroom and their settling in as pairs in the beit midrash . As I did not initially want to artificially isolate a pair and ask them to begin learning, I needed to wait and find a pair seated and interacting together, and then ask their permission to observe and record them. The havruta pairs among the students are relatively stable, though there are changes due to absences, students leaving or joining the class group, or dissatisfaction on the part of one or both partners. However, the seating arrangements in the beit midrash are not steady; the pair will select a spot from among those available at the time that they are looking for seats. Each bench can hold four people, or two pairs sitting side by side. In order to observe a pair, I needed to be in close proximity to them. Placing myself in the aisle was not an option, so I was dependent upon finding a seated pair next to or, preferably, in front of whom there was a vacant half bench. These parameters changed somewhat with the teacher's request that I remain in the back of the beit midrash , at which point I needed to either identify a pair already learning in the back of the room, or request in advance that students agree to observation and sit in the back. I would position my microphones as closely as possible to the students and listen as well as I could from my seat.

Even with these various constraints, I was able to obtain recordings of five havruta sessions. The recorded sessions provided sustained micro-level exemplification of phenomena that were well-attested through my ongoing observations within the beit midrash .

143 6.6 Havruta Sessions Observed: "There's something to it"

The fourth recording is the one that I ultimately selected for complete transcription and analysis, as it represented well some of what I came to think of as baseline characteristics of the lernen . Before I explain this idea, let me describe some of the aspects of the havruta practice as enacted at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam that emerged from two of the other havruta sessions.

The first session demonstrated the relative stability yet flexibility of the pairings. In the absence of his usual partner, a student was learning with a student not only from a different class, but from a different grade. When his usual partner, who had sat in class with his head on the desk in a tired affect, was brought into the beit midrash by Rav Uzi, the two immediately resumed their usual status as a pair, and the eleventh grader left the area. The newcomer, Shay-El, was not only sleepy in class that day but generally behaved in class, when he was present, as if he did not care about the learning. I observed him vocally engaged in the classroom Talmud discussion on only one occasion. Similarly, his attendance in the beit midrash was intermittent. Shay-El's long hair, small kippah , and general attire and demeanor suggested that he did not completely identify, or want to be identified, with the school community. Yet during the havruta interaction that I observed, he was completely on- task and actively participated in the discussion. Despite arriving late, he did not depend upon his partner, Yoav, a boy with close-cropped hair, long curly peot , a large kippah , and burgeoning facial hair who not only chose to project an image strongly identified with the religious activity at the school but in fact left the school several month into his senior year to study at a post-high school Yeshivah focusing solely on

Torah learning, to teach him the material and lead the session. Rather, Shay-El played a role in explaining the text, the two argued, raising their voices, facing each other and

144 gesticulating animatedly, and they each generated test cases for the scenario addressed in the text. Yoav indicated agreement with an interpretation advanced by Shay-El, using language such as "there's something to it" and "you're right," as the two continued to switch off reading and explaining and ultimately arriving at joint understanding. Another student came to ask for their help during the session, later returning with his havruta as Yoav and Shay-El helped them with text that they had already studied. The pair offered assessments of the Talmudic text, with Shay-El declaring one hermeneutic derivation to be "very weak" and Yoav asserting that another proof was "the strongest thing. Do you know why? Because it's a proof from logical deduction." This session reinforces in action the expressed preference of many students for seder over shiur . Shay-El, who did not make himself available to be interviewed, is a student who does not participate in many aspects of the CoP, as observed through his classroom activity and physical appearance as well as by the fact that the teacher called him aside on several occasions to discuss shortcomings in his school activity. While in seder , however, he is fully engaged in his participation, and learns as an equal with a peer known for his high levels of learning and religiosity.

The session also illustrates another feature that emerged from the interviews, the practice of students to consult with other students and not only with the teacher when they get stuck. Furthermore, they assess and critique the text itself, even as they strive to understand it, attesting to their enactment of the student-learners as holders of epistemic authority.

The third session was between Tsuriel and Amihai, perceived, as we have seen above, to be advanced learners in the class. This session was instructive in terms of the repeated selection of books from a bookcase at the front of the room. This bookcase contains medieval commentaries to the Talmud, and Tsuriel and Amihai

145 decided which to consult at what point in their learning. These commentaries were not assigned; 84 rather, in their exploration of the Talmudic text, Tsuriel and Amihai were raising questions and devising strategies to address the difficulties that they perceived within the text. In this manner, they strategized to construct their own knowledge and understanding. In a similar vein, I once observed them using a computer during their havruta session to divide and categorize segments of text in a table that they devised.

Again, this is a strategy sometimes offered by Rav Uzi, who at various times distributes charts or tables for the students to map out the text, but on this occasion, they adopted and adapted the method independently. This independent strategizing suggests a move towards full participation. At the same time, each of the strategies adopted may suggest something about the activity of Talmud as enacted in the

Darkhei Noam setting. The use of charting techniques and the like may be related to the Discourse of school. Teachers distribute worksheets to scaffold, focus, document, or otherwise guide student learning, and students fill in these sheets as part of their teacher-assigned learning activity. However, the data suggests that Darkhei Noam students associate these activities more with the Discourse of Talmud, or of Yeshivah, than with the Discourse of school. Students reflected in their interviews upon their earliest experiences with Talmud in a schooling context, generally beginning in sixth grade but sometimes as early as fourth, with the true novice level perceived by most as continuing through the eighth grade. Tending to denigrate the quality of those experiences and their own degree of engagement, many students spoke about learning

"Aramaic words" but no significant amount of textual analysis. They equated that learning with "just reading a sentence" and understanding the "simple meaning" of the

84 There are not enough copies of these books in the beit midrash for all of the students to use at once, so when Rav Uzi wishes to assign a commentary that is neither on the page of the standard Vilna edition of the Talmud nor printed at the back of the volume, he generally photocopies the relevant sections and distributes the pages to the students.

146 text. Several students alluded to specific aspects of the study that marked a higher level of Talmud learning, lamenting their scarcity in those settings. One aspect that two different students mentioned is related to the charting strategy. While several interviewees reflected upon the lack of "real gemara " and depth of analysis, two specifically mentioned that in the analytical sphere, the most that would happen was that "the teacher would make a chart on the board." The charting activity, for these students, attests not to a schooling and worksheet-based orientation, but to the complexity of the material and its analysis. The more sophisticated or intricate the discussion, the more necessary it is to find a means of representing it through graphic or spatial organization. The other strategy implemented by Amihai and Tsuriel, looking at commentaries to the Talmudic text from the medieval period, is also represented in the students' interviews as a marker of an advanced level of Talmud study. One student's disparaging remark, "if we learned three Tosafot a year [that was a lot]," echoes a sentiment that is reflected several times in the interview data. The notion of the history of interpretation as part and parcel of Talmud study is something that has been raised and discussed above. Here, we see it as a marker of more advanced study. We have questioned the position of the history of interpretation (does it suggest that knowledge resides in the text, or does it invite the learner to become part of a dialogue?) as well as the role of the teacher (is he a representative of the interpretive tradition? Of school-based institutional authority? Or perhaps he is merely a more expert member of the CoP?). Let us note, then, that Tsuriel and Amihai, like many of their classmates whom I observed and as reflected in the interview data discussed earlier, went to consult with Rav Uzi during the havruta session.

As seen through these examples, each havruta session revealed something about the practice of havruta in particular and Talmud study in general. However,

147 each of these sessions also involved relatively advanced students in the context of this class.

6.7 Baseline Beit Midrash Activity: Introducing Aharon and Gavriel

The fourth session that I observed, the one which was ultimately transcribed in full, involved Aharon and Gavriel, boys who are socially gregarious and seem to be well-liked by their peers, but are not considered among the top students in the class.

Nor are they the bottom; they are average students who do more or less what they are supposed to do. They generally attend seder and shiur , although each may be absent on occasion, but are not vocal participants in the class; I observed Aharon actively involved in the class discussion on one or two occasions, and Rav Uzi sometimes called on Gavriel to read the text or to offer an opinion. Aharon has longish hair and sports a large, colorful bowl-shaped kippah ; on the day that I observed the havruta session, the tall and lanky olive-skinned boy was also sporting a comical-looking winter hat in the beit midrash . Gavriel is fair-skinned with close-cropped blond hair and beard and an athletic build, and wears a thickly-crocheted, medium-sized kippah .

The pair agreed to be observed and recorded during their havruta session, but both boys declined to be interviewed. They also requested that I not observe them for a second time, as I asked to do on the following day. While I do not know the reason for this, and they did not offer any, I can speculate in two directions. First, it is possible that being observed and recorded made them feel uncomfortable in some way. I certainly hope that this is not the reason, and in any case I prefer the second explanation. Perhaps being observed made them alter their learning pattern and engage in more time-on-task behavior than they otherwise would have. While they could sustain this for one day, they were not interested in doing so again the next day.

This is suggested by their actions on the second day, before I approached them asking

148 to observe. They did not go straight to the beit midrash at the end of Rav Uzi's opening session in the classroom, but loitered outside on the grassy area opposite the beit midrash building. It was unclear whether they planned to learn outside, reclining on the grass as students occasionally did, to spend some time outside and then learn inside; or spend most or all of seder outside instead of learning. The conversation I noted between the pair and Rav Uzi, during which he stood at the wall abutting the grass, three to four meters away from where they reclined, featured their claim

"HaRav, we're learning!," his response, "You're really learning something?," and a brief discussion of the text. I then approached them and asked to observe them, and

Gavriel politely declined. I do not know whether or not they proceeded to learn, but they seemed to want a different experience from that of the previous day.

Furthermore, at the beginning of the recorded session, once they were already seated,

I had approached them, they had agreed to be observed and recorded, the pair had opened their texts and I had set up my equipment, several classmates came by to talk to them. Each time, they would say, "not now, we're on tape, we'll talk later," or,

"you're messing up the recording!" This was repeated once in the middle of the session as well. It therefore seems that normally, Aharon and Gavriel would chat with their friends before and during their havruta session, but because they were being recorded, they felt obligated to curtail this activity. These factors not only suggest a possible reason for the pair's reluctance to be observed again, they also add an important caveat to any analysis of the havruta activity. While I do not have reason to think that my presence impacted significantly upon the nature of the learning activity, it may have impacted on the texture of that activity, or the balance between that activity and others that are sometimes conducted during seder , as we have seen earlier.

149 I am loathe to argue that Gavriel and Aharon's havruta session is a representative case; after all, any case represents only itself. At the same time, I would like to suggest that this case is in some way a default option, offering a baseline for

Talmud learners in the Darkhei Noam setting. First, as noted earlier, Aharon and

Gavriel do not exhibit what the data shows to be the characteristics of the best students in the class, those who show the greatest level of engagement with the subject. However, they are also not among the least engaged students, those who do not appear to be engaged much of the time. 85 Rather, Aharon and Gavriel appeared to me to be more or less average students. Second, and perhaps more significantly, the particular recorded havruta session is one in which the partners explored a Talmudic text for the first time, with no teacher-provided mediation. There are many modes of study that are enacted in the beit midrash at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, some of which have been mentioned above, such as answering questions on a page of text provided by the teacher or independently leafing through volumes of commentaries. There is also the student who consistently chooses to learn alone rather with a partner, and those who spend much of seder crowded around Rav Uzi. There are also many ways to not study in the beit midrash , evidenced by the students walking around, chatting, loitering at the back of the room, or sitting with an open text and staring into space.

However, any student who does study needs to see the text for the first time, an activity generally unaccompanied by worksheets, and it is this initial decoding activity that is reflected in the observed session. In other words, Gavriel and Aharon are engaged in one of the most common Talmud-related activities to be found in the

Darkhei Noam beit midrash , and as such, analysis of their activity offers a baseline window into havruta learning at the school.

85 Note that I have elected to talk about observed level of engagement and not level of performance, in

150 6.8 Instructions for Seder : "Today we need to read from there"

The duration of the recording is one hour and four minutes. It takes place on a

Wednesday morning in November, following a shiur in the classroom. The class has begun at approximately ten in the morning, 86 and ends nearly thirty minutes later. Rav

Uzi spends the last few minutes of class telling the students what he would like them to do in seder :

1. Rav Uzi: From my perspective, we’ve finished this sugya up to "vekhen hayah Rabbi Shimon Ben Elazar omer/ and so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say," next to where it’s written ah…ah…in sideways writing, [tractate] Avodah Zarah 43. "Vekhen hayah Rabbi Shimon Ben Elazar omer, hamatsil min ha’ari /And so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say, one who saves from a lion," today [you/we] need (Heb. tsrikhim , 2 or 3 m. pl., no pronoun used) to read from there. 2. Student 1: where?

3. Student 2: to read?

4. Rav Uzi: In seder

5. Student 3: Harav, but the answer that’s in Tosafot –

6. Rav Uzi: Ah! Not now. Today [you/we] need ( tsrikhim ) to read from "vekhen hayah Rabbi Shimon Ben Elazar omer /and so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say" ah…nu , it’s, it’s after a third, half of the page. "Vekhen hayah Rabbi Shimon Ben Elazar omer /And so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say," until side B, one, two [counting lines in English], ah…ah… 7. Student 2: Mishnah

8. Rav Uzi: [We] actually need until the Mishnah. But not today. Today until

9. Student 2: the first colon

10. Rav Uzi: Until, until "ta shema /come and hear. " Three lines into side B. "Ta shema, de’amar Rav Asi /Come and hear, that Rav Asi stated." Until three lines. Now Tosafots, [you/we] need ( tsrikhim ) to do Tosafot dibbur hamathil (sub verbo ) "ki ka'amar /when he said," Tosafot "afilu /even" and Tosafot "betamun /regarding concealed." Three Tosafots. "Ki ka'amar Rabbi Shimon /When line with the process-orientation of the study. 86 At this point in the year, the first hour of the morning on Wednesdays was devoted to seder halakhah .

151 Rabbi Shimon said, " "afilu berov yisrael nami /even where the majority are Israelites," and the last Tosafot, "betamun /regarding concealed." Skip the three in the middle there but "tamun /concealed" is very important. 11. Student 4: How [is that] three? Two!

12. Rav Uzi: It could be that I’ll bring you a page in seder . It could be that we’ll do it together in…in class. What do you do beyond that? [That’s] your business. 13. Student 3: Harav –

14. Student 5: Wherever your imagination takes you

15. Rav Uzi: Not your b usiness entirely. Of course. Don’t run off to the dormitory. Ah. You’re with, let me see if I know, you’re with Mr. Heineman. And you’re with Netanel? Ah…who, who’s your havruta ?

This brief excerpt, two minutes in duration, reflects several aspects typical of the interactions in Rav Uzi’s classroom. For the moment, however, we shall confine the discussion to those aspects which provide immediate context for Aharon and

Gavriel’s beit midrash learning. The previous sugya has been officially closed (line

1); it has been completed "from [Rav Uzi’s] perspective," and a student’s attempt to continue the discussion (line 5) is explicitly rejected as conflicting with the current agenda of the class, which is set by the teacher-expert (line 6). The student speaking turns in lines 2 and 3 ("where?"; "to read?") suggest confusion as to the sense of the previous utterance, "today [you/we] need (Heb. tsrikhim , 1 or 2 m. pl., no pronoun used) to read from there." This confusion may stem from the ambiguity regarding the subject of the verb ts-r-kh / "need," which appears with no subject, and whose morphology indicates the plural participle for both first and second person, denoting either "you (pl.) need" or "we need." "Today we need to read" could be taken to mean that the class, as a group, will read the text, remaining in the classroom; "today you need to read" suggests independent activity on the part of the students, which would likely entail a move to the beit midrash . However, the word "where?" in this case is a

152 multivalent question, and Rav Uzi responds to both meanings. The meaning to which he initially seems to respond, saying "in seder (line 4)," would relate to the aforementioned ambiguity as to the nature of the activity. Thus, the teacher addresses the location of the activity. 87 Alternatively, "in seder " could be a response to the second student’s query, "to read? (line 3)." The student has asked about the nature of the activity and Rav Uzi responds with a noun that describes a designated activity in a designated place. The activity that the students are to undertake is the type of

"reading" that is particular to seder and is known to the students. In Aharon and

Gavriel’s havruta session, then, we are to observe what is labeled in this context as

"reading."

As we have seen, "in seder " could be a response to "where on the school campus [do we need to read]?" or "[how do we need] to read? (or: which kind of reading do you mean?)" In Rav Uzi’s next speaking turn (line 6), after deflecting the student who speaks in line 5, he answers an entirely different question of "where":

"[from] where on the page of Talmud [do we need to read]?" This sense of the question is likely the one intended by the student even if the teacher understood it otherwise and said "in seder " in response to this query. I suggest that "[from] where on the page " is the preferred reading because it immediately follows Rav Uzi’s use of spatial terminology to locate the text on the page: "today [you/we] need to read from there (line 1)." The answer to this "where?" has two components. First, there is a textual citation "’and so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say,’" and then there is a visual-spatial marker, "nu , it’s, it’s after a third, half of the page." The text, when cited in this way, does not seem to hold meaning. Rather, it is a graphic marker or point of reference for the place in the text. Similarly, the end point of the text for the

87 I observed frequent use of “in shiur ” and “in seder” interchangeably with “in the classroom” and “in

153 day is given in both textual and spatial/graphical terms. Rav Uzi begins counting the lines (line 6); a student suggests "Mishnah (line 7)," a word which, printed in Aramaic in abbreviated form, serves as a marker on the Talmudic page that the text that follows is the next Mishnah but which is not part of the flow of the text per se; Rav

Uzi confirms the usage and the goal, but deflects the response with "not today (line

8)"; the same student suggests "the first colon (line 9)," as the colon is the only graphic representation of punctuation in the Vilna edition of the Talmud and indicates a stopping point; and Rav Uzi indicates a place higher than that on the page, using both textual and spatial points of reference and repeating them twice: "Until, until

'come and hear.'"/ "'Come and hear, that Rav Asi stated.'" and "Three lines into side

B." /"Until three lines," respectively (line 10).

The use of words from the text as a point of reference continues with the instructions about which segments of Tosafot the students "need to do (line 10)." Each page of the Vilna edition of the Babylonian features a column of unvocalized and unpunctuated text of the Mishnah and Talmud in the center, frequently widening towards the bottom, flanked by commentaries. The line by line glosses of the eleventh-century French exegete Rabbi Shlomo ben Isaac, known by the acronym

Rashi, appears on the inside border of the text, 88 and paragraph-length comments to selected issues, written in dialectical form and featuring twelfth-century French and

German commentators known as Tosafists, beginning with Rashi's sons-in-law and grandsons, are printed on the outside border of the page. Thus, when Rav Uzi instructs his students to "do Tosafot dibbur hamathil (sub verbo ) ' ki ka'amar /when he said,' Tosafot ' afilu /even' and Tosafot ' betamun /regarding concealed,'" he uses the term "Tosafot" to denote a given segment of Tosafist commentary, and refers to each

the beit midrash ,” respectively.

154 segment by the words from the Talmud that are printed as a heading to the paragraph.

At first, he abbreviates the titles of the Tosafot segments, and then expands the first two, though the first one still falls short of the full citation. Finally, he references the last assigned piece, the single word "betamun ," without the preposition "be-," but just as "tamun ." This is the usual style of referencing commentaries, according to the words from the text to which they relate, and citing the words in this way uses them as a place-indicator without ascribing to them particular content or meaning. The use of the plural "Tosafots/ tosfotim ," awkward because the word tosafot (meaning

"additions") is already in the plural, 89 reinforces the idea that each block of text is referred to as an object. The phrase "Now Tosafots" reveals that the assignment of

Tosafot following the assignment of the Talmudic text is a familiar move in this context, and classroom observations indeed led to the conclusion that the study of selected Tosafot segments is part and parcel of the Talmud study in this setting.

Rav Uzi's role, in sending the students to the beit midrash for havruta learning, is to select the segments of text, Talmud and Tosafot alike, which the students are to "read" and "do." He determines what to "skip" and what is "important"

(line 10). He may or may not "bring [them] a page in seder (line 12)." Such a page generally features excerpted commentaries not found in the Talmud volume itself, as well as handwritten questions, and further reflects the teacher's agenda-setting role for the seder . However, Rav Uzi then explicitly turns the agenda over to the students:

"What do you do beyond that? [That’s] your business (line 12)." Ignoring one student's attempt to interject (line 13) and following the joking comment of another

(line 14), he modifies the statement by saying, "Not your business entirely. Of course," with the implication that beit midrash activity of their choosing is acceptable,

88 The exception to this pattern is select volumes in which the commentary of his grandson Rashbam appears instead.

155 but that an alternate activity, discussed at length above, is not: "Don’t run off to the dormitory (line 15)." This modification serves to magnify the perceived level of freedom that the students have in their learning after completing the base-level assignment; anything and everything is okay, as long as it fits under the beit midrash

(or: lernen ) heading, to which the dormitory (or, as we have seen above, "sleep") is the antithesis.

The implicit message is that Talmud study is comprised of some basic steps, namely, coverage of the text on the printed page, including Talmud and selected

Tosafot, 90 "beyond" which there are multiple legitimate possibilities for "what you do." The students are presumed to know how to access and carry out these possibilities, and are given free rein in selecting among them. In this manner, the activity of Talmud is moved from the teacher end towards the student end of the teacher-student axis. In terms of the text-learner axis, this data suggests that understanding the Talmudic texts depends upon an associated canon of interpreters, themselves also texts; it does not offer insight into the question of the location of knowledge and meaning, but affirms the text-centered structure of the endeavor. Rav

Uzi, in his role as teacher, sets the agenda in terms of the base text, or the sugya , to be studied, what is the base text "today (lines 1,6)" or "not today (line 8)." In listing the

Tosafot, he offers a criterion for inclusion, the "importan[ce] (line 10)" of the segment. He does not offer a way to gauge this factor, yet he models knowledge that he has and that the students do not yet have, functioning as an expert to the novices.

He then allows for a level of expertise on the part of the students, moving from the periphery towards greater participation as they are to exercise autonomy within the learning that is "beyond that (line 12)."

89 The Hebrew for Tosafists is baalei hatosafot /"authors of the additions."

156 At the end of line 13 and for several minutes following the excerpt cited above, Rav Uzi makes sure that each student has a set havruta . The students have returned to school following an extended break from Yom Kippur through the Sukkot holiday, and at the time of this class, two and a half weeks later, Rav Uzi is making sure that the pairings have stabilized and that the structures are in place for the next several months of learning. He does not, however, set the pairings; his involvement is limited to confirmation of stability, and playing a mediating role when necessary, for instance initiating a pairing in the face of a partner's extended absence or student dissatisfaction. In this manner, analogous to the agenda-setting, Rav Uzi seems to play an ordering role in the students' learning structures as a facilitator, resulting in a student centered, or to return to Basil Bernstein's (2003) terminology, weakly framed, educational setting.

6.9 Session introduction: Text and Turn-taking

Let us now return to Gavriel and Aharon. Rav Uzi ends the opening shiur and sends the students to the beit midrash . I linger in the classroom for several minutes, as the student whose question was ignored towards the end of class (line 5 in the excerpt above) approaches Rav Uzi's desk and engages in discussion of the Tosafot that they have just studied. I then make my way to the beit midrash , where the students are still arriving and getting settled. I wait until I notice a pair that has begun learning, some fifteen minutes after the class has ended. Aharon and Gavriel agree to be observed, and, as described above, the first few interactions on the recording are between the pair and other students who stop by to chat but are rebuffed. When they turn their attention to the text, they begin reading five lines into the segment that Rav Uzi

90 Rashi's commentary is not mentioned; as we shall see, it is read in an unmarked and embedded manner.

157 designated; one may surmise that they have already read the first several lines prior to my approaching them.

The text that the class, and in fact the entire Yeshivah, is studying is the second chapter of tractate Baba Metsi`a, which begins on folio 21a and deals with the rights and obligations of a person who finds a lost object. Specifically, there are cases in which the finder may keep the object for himself, and others in which he is obligated to announce the finding of the object, with the aim of returning it to its owner. A major factor in determining which law applies is the question of whether the original owner may be presumed to have despaired of being reunited with his possession. If he has despaired, he relinquishes ownership and the object is available for anyone else to claim. The criteria for establishing presumption of despair include features of the object itself as well as the circumstances under which it was found.

On this particular day, the class is to begin reading on folio 24a, 91 immediately following the previous segment they have studied; the text is generally studied in full and consecutively. The citation marker quoted by Rav Uzi, "And so Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar would say," begins a beraita listing cases in which, according to R.

Shimon b. Elazar, there is a presumption of despair and the object belongs to the finder. These include an object recovered from a predatory animal, one which had disappeared into a high tide or flooding river, and one found in a crowded public place or major thoroughfare. The ensuing Talmudic discussion attempts to closely define R. Shimon’s position regarding a public place. R. Shimon is cited as an individual opinion. The discussion seeks to refine this position in relation to that of the accepted majority, referred to as "the Rabbis."

91 A copy of the Vilna edition of this page is provided in Appendix B.

158 Aharon and Gavriel's havruta session is comprised of 300 speaking turns. The translation of the Talmudic text, represented in the transcript in italics, is based upon the Soncino translation, which I have modified somewhat for the context as needed.

The boys alternate speaking in fluid turn-taking characterized by overlapping speech and by the completion of each other's sentences. These features are particularly pronounced as they read from the text. Unlike the two women featured in

Orit Kent's (2006) study of adult learners in a beit midrash for teachers, Gavriel and

Aharon do not discuss procedural aspects such as who will read. Rather, one partner begins reading, another may interrupt by echoing the text, and speaking rights may either remain with the first reader or move to the second reader.

For instance, in the following example, Aharon is reading (line 15), Gavriel completes a sentence from the text (line 16), and Aharon reclaims speaking rights by repeating the final phrase of his previous utterance and continuing to read.

15. Aharon And if you come to the conclusion that [he said this] also where the majority are Israelites do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree with him, they would certainly disagree where the majority are Israelites. Where the majority are Canaanites, do they disagree or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree even where the majority are Canaanites, is the law in accordance with his view 16. Gavriel Or is the law not in accordance with his view 17. Aharon is the law in accordance with his view or is the law not in accordance with his view? And if you come to the conclusion that the law is in accordance with his view, does this apply only to the case where the majority are Canaanites, or also the case where the majority are Israelites? …

Sentence completion is not limited to the reading of the text, as demonstrated by the following example:

213. Aharon He says really 214. Gavriel really we do follow (lit.: go after) 215. Aharon really we follow the majority. 216. Gavriel after the majority. After an Israelite majority.

159 Aharon pauses at the end of his first utterance (213), Gavriel continues but

does not complete the sentence, pausing slightly (214). Aharon then steps in and

completes the sentence (215), and Gavriel chimes in with some overlap, claiming

social capital by adding a further clarification, "An Israelite majority" (216).

6.10 Segment Borders: "Alright. Come and hear …"

I have divided the session structurally into seven discursively-marked

segments (Figure 6). The borders between the segments feature several types of

markers. The most common, appearing in three of the six transitions, involves

beginning a new portion of text by reading it. In each instance, the new reading is

prefaced with a discourse marker such as "okay" or "alright" (Heb. tov , lit. "good").

Figure 6: Havruta Session Segments and Borders

Segment of Havruta Line #s Beginning Marker Ending Marker Session 1. Text: Section I 1-71 The question was asked (iba`ya lehu) Alright

2. Text: Section II 72-116 Come and hear (ta shema) Okay

3. Text: Section III 117-164 Come and hear (ta shema) Alright. Okay. Yeah.

4. Interpretive 165-254 It seems to me…what he says, If one [pause] discussion rescues anything from a lion…

5. Decide to consult 255-256 I'll go ask Rav Uzi. Fine with teacher

6. Aharon returns and 257-275 Basically. We didn’t understand so correctly Okay explains before.

7. Attempt to continue 276-290 And if you wish I will say (ve'ee ba`eit aima) I don't understand./…And with text regarding something which is not concealed 8. End of session 291-300 So let's continue… Come and hear (ta Fine. Good job. shema)

For example, the transition from segment 2 to segment 3 features a reading of

the concluding line of the previous portion of the Talmudic text (116), followed by

"okay" and the opening phrase of the next portion (117).

160 116. Gavriel Now that you have arrived at this conclusion, ‘synagogues’ [can] also [be explained as meaning] our synagogues in which Canaanites stay. 117. Aharon Okay, come and hear: if one finds

For these learners, these breaks are marked according to cues in the text. They are familiar with the Talmudic terminology, and know that when certain elements appear, they mark a new section. The appearance of particular words indicates how to punctuate the text. "Come and hear" is one such element, as explicitly recognized by the students in the transition between the first two segments:

71. Aharon And then after they say all these things it brings the come and hear . 72. Gavriel Alright. Come and hear: If one finds money in a Synagogue or a house of …

Similarly, "and if you wish I will say" is a marker of a new section. In this case, the previous speaking turn (275) features a summary statement (which is not discursively marked as such), and then the first turn of the new segment (276) is marked by "okay" and then the aforementioned element.

275. Aharon He says, any place where crowds gather, or that he despairs in a very very…extreme case that this one despairs, then these belong to him. He’s not talking specifically re- regarding an Israelite majority or a Canaanite majority, despite the fact that there’s an issue that the majority are Israelite and the majority are Canaanites but not in…not in a place where crowds gather, rather only in a specific place. 276. Gavriel Okay. And if you wish I will say: Admittedly, admittedly this is the view of the Rabbis …

In each of these cases, there is no discussion of turn-taking; one person completes a segment, and his partner begins the next one. There are also instances in which one partner attempts to begin the next section through this "okay" + reading move, but the move is rejected and a segment border is ultimately not created. For example:

208. Gavriel Okay. Come and hear: If one finds therein a lost object, then if the

161 majority are Israelites 209. Aharon Just a minute, so what’s the conclusion in the meantime?

Gavriel attempts to move to a different section of text, while Aharon objects that the previous discussion is not yet concluded.

Two of the other cases of segment border transitions feature procedural discussion, and not a fluid move from one segment to the next. In each instance, the learners have reached a point of confusion and strategize to seek assistance, as one student proposes a procedure to follow.

The first case appears as follows:

254. Gavriel And that’s not according to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. Because here we, it says also where the majority is Israelite, they belong to him. 255. Aharon [unclear]. [pause]. I’ll go ask Rav Uzi. 256. Gavriel Fine.

Gavriel has raised a difficulty in light of everything they have learned; the

Talmud seems to have concluded that the Mishnah is according to R. Shimon b.

Elazar and not according to the Rabbis (248), yet Gavriel maintains that the Mishnah does not represent R. Shimon's position (254). In general, when one partner asks a question or raises a difficulty, the other has a ready response; with this pair, Aharon appears to be a somewhat stronger learner and answers Gavriel's specific decoding questions on several occasions (e.g. 6 ff., 90-91). In this instance, after a significant pause, Aharon, who apparently does not have an answer, offers a strategy, "I'll go ask

Rav Uzi," (255) and Gavriel agrees (256). Acting upon this strategy, Aharon then leaves to consult with the teacher.

In the second case of explicit procedural strategizing as a transition to a new segment, the suggested strategy is rejected, but a new segment is nonetheless begun.

290. Gavriel Why is it [unclear]? And regarding something which is not

162 concealed, and one cannot extrapolate from here, that they agree with him where the majority are Canaanites. 291. Aharon So let’s continue, we’ll see. Maybe it will help. Come and hear: Rav Assi said: If one finds a barrel of wine in a town where the majority are Canaanites 292. Gavriel No, wait, wait. We have to stop. Rav Uzi said until here.

Gavriel asks a question, and then cites from the text that they have already learned (290). Aharon (291) suggests continuing in the text, expressing a belief that the later text may eludicate the earlier text. Unlike the previous instance, the proposed source of assistance is not the teacher but the text itself. He begins reading with the "come and hear" marker that we have seen above. However, Gavriel rejects this move with three brief utterances (292). First, he negates the strategy with an explicit "no" followed by a double imperative ("wait, wait"). He clarifies his position and expresses it in the first person ("We have to stop."); both boys are equally bound by his objection to the strategy. Finally, he offers a reason for his objection: "Rav Uzi said until here." Gavriel asserts that the correct interpretation is not to be found in the next section of text because Rav Uzi has told them to stop before reading that section.

The assumption is that Rav Uzi knows the correct interpretation and has constructed the assignment in such a way that the students, too, will be able to achieve understanding.

These two cases illustrate some elements that, in the students' view, constitute the source of knowledge and understanding. As we have noted, in the first case, it is the teacher, and in the second, it is the text. The sixth and final instance of what I have characterized as segment border transitions offers yet another avenue of making sense of the text.

162. Gavriel I don’t understand it. Rabbi Shimon said. Rabbi Shimon is talking about the majority so he like we’re talking here in the Mishnah, this Mishnah we’re talking about the majority. If it’s an Israelite majority, he should announce. If it’s not an Israelite majority, if it’s a Canaanite

163 majority, then he doesn’t have to announce. And then it says, and then the gemara says no, it isn’t like Rabbi Shimon. Then the gemara says it isn’t like Rabbi Shimon. Because here it’s talking about concealed or not concealed. 163. Aharon No. It is yes Rabbi Shimon. But why does this Mishnah not look to us like Rabbi Shimon? Because it’s talking about concealed. 164. Gavriel Therefore Rabbi Shimon didn’t talk, didn’t talk about concealed then the fact that it…alright. Okay…yeah. 165. Aharon It seems to me. Despite the fact that it, like according to Rabbi Shimon at the beginning, what he says, If one rescues anything from a lion, a bear, a leopard, any place that are frequent, where crowds are frequent, it belongs to him. It’s impossible to know really what he thinks. And they are trying to guess like what

At the end of the third segment of text, which introduces the concept of an object which has been intentionally concealed and is therefore not to be treated as a lost object, Gavriel (162) struggles to understand the connection between the principle of the majority population and the specific case of the concealed object. It is here that the pair moves from their localized interpretive discussion of the section about a concealed object, towards an attempt to integrate the various sections of the Talmudic text. Aharon (163) disagrees with Gavriel's presentation, asserting that the cited

Mishnah indeed reflects the position of R. Shimon, and the fact that the object was concealed explains why it "does not look to us like Rabbi Shimon." In this phrase, he inserts the learner into the text, as the learners evaluate the cited Mishnah, just as the

Talmudic text does. Gavriel's (164) summative statement, which trails off and is ultimately unclear, includes the discourse markers "alright" and "yeah," an indication that he thus concludes this segment of the text and/or the discussion. Rather than proceeding by continuing to read the text (a particularly glaring omission in this instance because there has not been a discursively marked stopping point in the text),

Aharon (165) continues the discussion, initiating a new segment of the havruta session. He agrees with Gavriel's summation of the text they have read thus far, inserting an element of subjectivity ("It seems to me.") He then makes the integrative

164 move explicit by referring back to "the beginning," attempting to construct a unified understanding of all of the various positions raised in the Talmudic discussion.This segment continues for nearly one hundred speaking turns, in what I have called

"interpretive discussion of the entire text"; it is here that a more global construction of meaning begins. While we shall explore further what this entails, for the moment let us note that the transition to the segment suggests that these learners perceive both the learner and the Talmud as having an interpretive voice as to the meaning of the

Talmud itself, or of the texts cited in the Talmud. The Talmud is both an interpretive text ("And then it says, and then the gemara says no, it [the Mishnah] isn’t like Rabbi

Shimon,") and a text to be interpreted. The interpretive activity in the havruta interaction is to grapple with this multivalent text as it is voiced through the learners

("like we’re talking here in the Mishnah"). This move takes place prior to the strategizing moves we have already seen; the students first grapple with the text in this interactional way and then, when they reach a point at which they are unsuccessful, they decide to ask Rav Uzi for an explanation. Viewed in this light, the data suggests that the interactional interpretive activity is the sort performed by this community of practice. When the novice learners are unable to conduct this activity to their satisfaction, or, when they perceive themselves to be participating on the periphery, they seek assistance from the teacher-expert.

Several features of the havruta session have emerged through the discussion of the segment borders. We have seen elements of turn-taking; procedural strategizing as well as a distinct absence of strategy-talk; discourse markers in speech and in text; and ultimately the location of knowledge with the teacher or with the text, but first and foremost with the learners as they activate agency via epistemic authority in their interaction with the self-referencing text. These elements are characteristic of the data

165 in general, and not just of the segment borders. I would like to point out several additional characteristics of the havruta session.

6.11 Discourse Markers, Citation, Pronouns, Code-switching and

Recontextualization: "It doesn’t have to be a beit kenesset "

We have noted the discourse markers "okay" and "alright/ tov " as they mark a move to a new segment of text. They are joined by a third marker, "fine/ beseder ," throughout the text to indicate boundaries of text and of analysis, and appear throughout the transcript (e.g. "okay" 117, 208, 276; "fine" 14, 204; "alright" 13, 14,

67, 72). The three appear in rapid succession as the study partners, during the extended interpretive discussion, attempt to demarcate the structural and conceptual bounds of the different parts of the text. Note also the formulated conceptual strategy suggestion that Aharon offers (189), even as this is not his learning strategy but the move found in the Talmudic text.

188. Gavriel Fine, and then the gemara ans…and then the gemara answers (or: resolves) it. 189. Aharon Alright. So let’s start with an assumption that that’s really what Rabbi Shimon thinks. 190. Gavriel Okay.

The three markers even appear together to mark a transition among segments as Aharon begins to map them:

21. Aharon There's a flowchart here. It's as if it says, as a topic it says …these are his . Right? And then…one who recovers etcetera, alright, fine. Okay. And then this, this, is it a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority.

Finally, "alright" (294) and "fine" (300) are both used to mark the end of the session.

These discourse markers are particularly significant in this session because there are so few other moves that fill the function of structuring the interaction. As we

166 have seen, turn-taking is not marked, reading turns are especially unmarked, and the primary structuring element of the learning is the text itself. The transition between reading and explanation/interpretation is frequently not discursively marked. When it is marked, it is generally through code-switching from Aramaic to Hebrew, but even so, the Hebrew discussion is peppered with the Talmud's Aramaic terminology. For instance, "they disagree" represents Aramaic pligei and Hebrew holqim . In general, the former is used in quotation and the latter in speech, but this is not always the case.

Thus, we find:

55. Aharon And if you say that the Rabbis disagree ( shepligei ), then where the majority is Canaanite either…either they disagree (sheholqim ) with him or they don't disagree ( holqim ) with him…

The beginning of the utterance, "And if you say," represents Aharon's rendering of the Aramaic phrase "im timtse lomar " into the Hebrew "im atah omer ."

"Shepligei " is an Aramaic word that has been given a Hebrew prefix, 92 and "then" represents the Hebrew interpolation "az ," which does not have an Aramaic counterpart in the text. The language being spoken is clearly Hebrew, yet Aharon uses

"shepligei " before switching to the Hebrew "sheholqim ."

Another unstrategized and generally unmarked feature of the discourse is citation. As much as the Talmud itself features citation markers, as we have seen above, the havruta session does not. The boys slip in and out of reading and speaking.

Furthermore, when they read Rashi's commentary, it, too is unmarked. Rashi is cited six times over the course of the session. The learners do not read Rashi, a line by line commentary, on every line of the text. Rather, they cite the commentary on an ad hoc basis, generally when faced with a localized interpretive difficulty. They then

92 The Aramiac would be de-, but the word appears unprefixed in the Talmudic text that is referenced here.

167 incorporate Rashi's interpretation into the text; at this stage, it is viewed as a definitive interpretation that allows them to resume their unmediated encounter with the text, and as not one of several competing interpretations with which to grapple. However, looking at Rashi is not enacted as a strategy for one or the other partner to suggest; there are no explicit suggestions to look at Rashi. Rather, one of the partners will just cite the commentary directly. Of the six instances in which Rashi is cited, the commentary is explicitly referred to by name only twice. In the first instance, Aharon mentions Rashi and then reads the commentary:

77. Aharon Yes. From where do you know, Rashi says. That we go according to the majority, meaning that in the law of found objects, it goes according to the principle of crowds are frequent there. How do I know that…that regarding a found object. Ah…like, they say, this "come and hear,"If one finds money in a Synagogue or a house of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to the finder .

"From where do you know" is a partial version of a question that Aharon formulates earlier, "From where do you know that we go according to the majority

(73)?" and is a paraphrase of a question posed within the Talmudic text. Aharon then immediately moves into a reading of Rashi, introduced by "Rashi says;" this is not the answer to the question, but Rashi's explanation of what the question is asking. He then partially paraphrases Rashi and then moves directly into the Talmud's answer to the question, indicated by the citation marker "come and hear/ ta shema " that Aharon adopts as a noun, "this 'come and hear'/ hata shema hazeh ."

In the next instance, Aharon (103) cites Rashi with no indication that he is reading the commentary, and then says in an excited voice, "Oho…you see Rashi?," in one of the few times that he directly addresses his partner. Gavriel responds directly to the question - "No," he hasn't seen Rashi - and then reads it aloud and begins to discuss the interpretation.

168 166. Aharon But houses of study, that's only Jewish. What, but our house of study . Our houses of study in which Canaanites sit. What does that mean? In which Canaanites stay, that they were outside of the city and they would put Canaanites there to guard . Oho…you see Rashi? 167. Gavriel No. In which Canaanites stay, that they were outside of the city and they would put Canaanites there to guard . What does that mean? It's their houses of study?

In this case, Aharon explicitly encounters the text of the commentary before

Gavriel does. He reads the text, and then includes his partner in the endeavor. This method is even more pronounced in the remaining four Rashi citations, in which there is no verbal indication that Rashi will be or has been read.

In the following example, there is a nearly seamless transition between the reading of the Talmudic text and the reading of Rashi.

133. Aharon They agree with him, that the Rabbis agree with Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar in a case where the majority are Canaanites. Rather, this represents the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar 134. Gavriel the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, and even in a case where the majority are Israelites 135. Aharon And what are we dealing with here 136. Gavriel With [a case where the money was] concealed. With concealed. Since he concealed it isn’t a lost object, therefore where the majority are Israelites, one must announce it. He did find it. But what difference does it make if it’s concealed or not? In any case, if now we’re dealing with concealed, if it’s concealed then in an Israelite majority he would be obligated to announce. Concealed isn’t, it isn’t a lost object. It’s like

Lines 133-135 represent the reading and turn-taking practices that we have observed and described. Gavriel (136) continues reading the text, "With [a case where the money was] concealed ," and then immediately proceeds to Rashi, the heading of which reads "With concealed ," and the text of which follows. There is a slight change in voice inflection that accompanies this reading, as the heading is read with a downward inflection and somewhat clipped. Otherwise, there is no cue that this is a reading of Rashi. Gavriel then discusses the text while integrating the interpretation

169 ("…if it’s concealed then in an Israelite majority he would be obligated to announce.") but without acknowledging it as such. It appears that Rashi is part of the text, but only when the learners seek it to be. It also seems that when a partner cites

Rashi, he has scanned the page himself and determined the particular citation to be relevant or helpful, and then shares it with his partner, rather than jointly strategizing about the very act of reading Rashi.

I have chosen to highlight the Rashi-citation technique because it plays into a broader issue within the havruta session. The questions of what does it mean to read a text and who has the right to read that text are complicated by the fact that the text itself represents multiple voices and periods. 93 Written as a conversation about how to understand the Tannaitic texts in front of them, 94 the Amoraic editorial layer of this particular Talmudic text debates various possibilities without arriving at a firm conclusion, asking more questions than it answers. The anonymous redactor addresses the reader throughout this process, for instance using the second person exhortation to

"come and hear " or the combination of first and second person "if you want, I will say ," and talks about the Tannaitic players, "R. Shimon b. Elazar" and "the Rabbis," in the third person. The contemporary reader of the text is invited to read the

Tannaitic sources alongside the Amoraic reader. The line between reader and interpreter is blurred. Rashi, a quasi-canonical commentary, is an interpreter whom

Aharon and Gavriel read as part of the text, but only when they have struggled (or failed) as interpreters.

Aharon and Gavriel’s stance as readers and interpreters of the Talmudic discussion is further elucidated by their use of pronouns throughout the session.

Elinor Ochs (1990), in her work on indexicality, discusses the use of linguistic

93 I describe here the ways in which I understand Aharon and Gavriel to enact and construct the text.

170 features to index, or to key, socio-cultural information within the context, beyond the

propositional content of the utterance. Pronouns are a powerful linguistic tool, across

many languages, for establishing the status or positioning of the speaker.

Figure 7: Use of Pronouns in Havruta Session

#95 voice(s)/referent(s) example(s) (line #) function(s) (most prevalent first) I 23 1. student speaking 1.(a) "I don’t understand, what did you say, again." 1. (a) interaction with partner (178) (b) "why it says majority like this, I don’t know" (22) (b) interaction with text

2. Talmudic author 2. "How do I know that, that regarding a found object. 2. insert learner into Ah - like, they say, this ‘come and hear’." (77) redactional layer of text We 67 1.Talmudic authors 1. (a) "But, if it's a bundle then we care, then, and 1. (a) insert learners into then, and then it really matters to us if crowds are redactional layer of text frequent there." (99) (b) "Rabbi Shimon is talking about the majority so he, (b) learners as author of text like we’re talking here in the Mishnah, this Mishnah we’re talking about the majority." (162)

2. Students 2. "Fine, so so we summarized it so like we finished now…basically, we have to hurry up." (204) 2. schooling structure You 44 1. Talmudic author 1. (a) "If you say that they’re scattered then it’s like 1. (a) generalized "you" as the other Mishnah that we have that…that the Rabbis participant in Talmudic say it’s his." (199) discussion (b) "And they say to him, you can’t prove from this (b) Talmudic discussion as Mishnah, what are we dealing with here, with separate form learners scattered." (191)

2. The other student 2. (a) "It's like it relates just to one side, do you 2. (a) interaction with partner understand?" (41) (b) interaction with partner and (b) "Why, why do you think that the Mishnah doesn’t text work out with the Rabbis?" (156)

3. Talmud adherent 3. "No. They didn’t tell you that it’s yours. In the 3. generalized "you" in Mishnah. But just that you’re not obligated to normative sense announce." (279) They 77 1. Talmudic author 1. (a) "Meaning, they say no, it isn’t like the Rabbis" 1. (a) Talmudic speakers as (151) separate from learners (b) "Like, they don’t say anything" (17) (b) learners’ analysis of Talmud 2. Classmates 2. "Are you coming to class? They’ve started going." 2. schooling structure (isolated (295) occurrence)

In the case of reading and interpreting, the use of pronouns can reveal the voice, or the

multiple voices, of the reader. They are a mechanism whereby the reader can index a

new context, entering the text in an author’s voice and actively participating in the

construction of meaning. Sam Wineburg (1991) has found that while historians read

94 In "text" I include Tannaitic statements in their pre-written phase as well.

171 using this mechanism, high school students of history do not. In contrast, Gavriel and

Aharon, high school students of Talmud, write themselves into the text and take on multiple voices within the Talmudic text (see Figure 7). Each pronoun is used on at least two registers, sometimes indexing a person who is in the room and sometimes a voice within the text. Aharon and Gavriel’s use of what appears to be a sophisticated reading technique, one which is applied only by experts in other contexts, may be explained in several ways. One possibility is that they are, in fact, experts; I am disinclined to posit this due to overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Rather, it seems that the Talmudic text, and the practices associated with its study in the context of Darkhei Noam, in some way foster this type of reading. Before discussing why and how this may be the case, I would like to present several additional features of the havruta session that will further reveal the contours of the practice.

In addition to recontextualizing their own voices into the Talmud itself, the learners recontextualize the Talmud to their contemporary context. However, Aharon and Gavriel do this on an extremely limited and localized basis; this device furthers their understanding of a line here or there in the text, but is not harnessed at all in getting to any "big idea" (Feiman-Nemser 2006: 171).

Recontextualization of the population groups referred to in the Talmud,

"Canaanite" and "Israelite," occurs on several occasions through direct labeling.

However, this substitution is context-specific and limited in scope. The term

"Jews/ Yehudim " is used in place of Israelites, but nonetheless collocated with

"Canaanites," in three instances of the same context (103, 206, 261-269). The Talmud cites a Tannaitic statement:"If one finds money in Synagogues ( batei kenesiyyot ) or houses of study ( batei midrashot ), or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it

95 I have excluded from these numbers the many pronouns occurring within Talmudic citations.

172 belongs to the finder." The discussion in the text then focuses upon the tension between these places, synagogues and houses of study, as inherently Israelite institutions, and the principle that the identity of the majority of the crowd as Israelite or Canaanite determines what the finder is to do regarding a lost object. In other words, how could synagogues and houses of study be full of Canaanites, if they are definitionally Israelite? The initial response is that "synagogues" could be Canaanite, and are not a uniquely Israelite institution. "Houses of study" are considered more problematic, as they are regarded as uniquely Israelite (Aharon and Gavriel indeed find themselves in a beit midrash /house of study as they read these words), and so it is proposed that the term refers to "our houses of study"96 in which Canaanites are somehow present. 97 It is then proposed that the solution provided for "houses of study" be applied to "synagogues" as well. It is in this context that that the havruta pair refer on several occasions to the "Israelites" as "Jews." To cite but one example:

206. Gavriel Yeah. Even though it’s strange. Like, there’s no lack of synagogues. The Mishnah talks specifically about synagogues and houses of study of Canaanites and not of Jews? Like, bottom line, generally it’s synagogues and houses of study of ah…this 207. Aharon Like, it seems to me more that what they are coming to say, what are synagogues and houses of study. That’s like an example of a place where crowds ga…gather. And not specifically Israelite because it could also be Canaanite. Synagogues ( batei kenesiyyot , lit. "houses of gathering") is a place where people gather ( mitkansim ). It doesn’t have to be ah a synagogue ( beit kenesset , the word used in modern Hebrew to denote synagogue).

Throughout the discussion of this segment of text, the term "Israelite" does not disappear, but "Jews" is added alongside it. Of particular interest in this example is the way in which Aharon (207) allows for the idea of Canaanite synagogues by distinguishing between the Rabbinic Hebrew form batei kenesiyyot , which he roots

96 A pronoun is used to index the social context of the speaker.

173 etymologically ("a place where people gather/ mitkansim "), 98 and the Modern Hebrew beit kenesset , as the terms are morphologically different 99 but etymologically identical. Thus "beit kenesset " is for him a particular social institution, one with which he is familiar and likely attends on a regular basis, while the more distant Rabbinic

"batei kenesiyyot " may be recontextualized in the Talmudic discussion to mean a completely different social institution. We find a similar phenomenon in line 110, when Gavriel questions what is Canaanite about houses of study: "What there are

Canaanites there? Houses of study/ batei midrashot . It's a kind of a beit midrash ."

Even this recontextualization within the Talmud, however, is cause for some confusion, as evidenced by Gavriel's misreading and correction in the following example:

100. Gavriel And what are we dealing with here? With kenesiyyot (contemporary term for churches) of Canaanites. And what are we dealing with here? With batei kenesiyyot (term for synagogues) of Canaanites.

Within his social context, it makes sense for "Canaanites" to have kenesiyyot , as a kenesiyyah in Modern Hebrew is a church. Batei kenesiyyot , synagogues, are perceived as unusual for a non-Jewish context. This is the first reading, for Gavriel and Aharon, of the portion of the text that posits the existence of Canaanite synagogues, and Gavriel fumbles in his reading in favor of recontextualization to his own social and linguistic reality.

On one occasion, Gavriel and Aharon recontextualize the "Canaanites" to a different aspect of their social reality. The partners reach a Tannatic citation in the

Talmud which requires explanation, as the quote features a pronominal suffix with no

97 The pair adopts Rashi's interpretation that the Canaanites are present as hired guards while the premises are empty. 98 This etymology is of course shared by the word "synagogue," from the Greek synagein meaning "to gather, assemble"

174 referent. Gavriel (120) asks about the referent of therein ,100 and Aharon (121) responds by reading Rashi 101 in the unmarked manner that we have seen above.

120. Gavriel What's he found therein a lost object ? 121. Aharon In it. He found in it. It is a Mishnah in the Taharot order, in a city in which Israelites and Canaanites dwell, in tractate Makhshirin . 122. Gavriel And he found in that city? 123. Aharon Meaning, in some particular city that… 124. Gavriel Yeah, that's a mixed city. 125. Aharon Yeah. Some sort of Acre. 126. Gavriel If one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites he is obligated to announce, but if the majority are Canaanites he is not obligated to announce. Because the majority are Canaanites so the owner despairs.

Gavriel (122) still seeks the referent of the pronoun, but Aharon (123) returns the discussion to Rashi's interpretation that the city in question is one "in which

Israelites and Canaanites dwell," as he has interpreted Gavriel's earlier question to mean "In what type of city was the object found," and not, "what is the referent of the pronoun 'it'. " Thus, he refers to "some particular city," and Gavriel (124) follows his partner's determination of the topic of discussion by labeling the type of city as "a mixed city." Aharon (125) then provides an example of "a mixed city" that is familiar and contemporary within their social context. "Some sort of Acre" is an example of a city with a mixed population, as it is inhabited by Jews and Arabs, and it is in fact one of the few Israeli cities in which Jews are a significant minority. 102 Furthermore, for the National Religious population, the Jewish aspect of the city has become more

99 Aharon cites the Rabbinic plural and the Modern singular, even though the two differ in the plural and not in the singular. 100 “Bah,” literally “in her/it.” 101 An expansion as to the type of city is found in some Medieval manuscripts of the Talmud as part of the Talmudic text itself: `ir shedarin bah yisr' vegoyyim umatsa bah metsi'ah/"a city in which Isr[aelites] and non-Jews dwell, and one found therein a found object (and not avedah /'lost object')," (Vatican, Bibliotheca Apostolica , Ebr. 116-117) 102 According to the Central bureau of Statistics (CBS 2009: 98-99), the Israeli citizen population of the Acre subdistrict in 2008 was 32.8% Jewish and 44.9% Muslim, with the rest of the population comprised of Druze, Christians, and those not classified by religion.

175 well-known since the founding of a Hesder Yeshivah 103 there in 2003. It is therefore unremarkable that when Aharon and Gavriel refer to a mixed city, the example that springs to mind is Acre. What is worthy of note is the fact that "Canaanite-Israelite" so seamlessly converts to "Arab-Jewish." The students thus transfer the sense of the

Talmudic text, as interpreted by a medieval exegete using a Mishnaic text in what is already a display of recontextualization through intertextuality (Bauman 2004: 4-6), to a contemporary context in which Acre is an example of the type of city in which the lost object is found.

Localized recontextualization to a contemporary context is the exception for

Aharon and Gavriel, not the rule. In general, they read the Talmudic text as completely separate from their social reality. One factor that I found glaring in its absence was any attempt on the part of the havruta pair to grapple with the implications of, or the assumptions implicit to, the text that they were studying. There is a distinction between Israelites and Canaanites regarding what the finder of a lost object is to do. The premise is that when the majority of the populace in the place in which the object was found is Israelite, the owner has not despaired of finding his object, and therefore the ownership bond has not been broken and the finder is required to announce the finding of the object so that the original owner may claim it.

When dealing with a Canaanite populace, however, it is presumed that the owner has despaired, and the finder may take possession of the object. There is a presumption of despair regarding Canaanites but not Israelites because the owner does not expect to be reunited with his possession in a setting in which it is assumed that someone would have found it and taken it. In other words, the distinction regarding the law is rooted in a premise about a distinction regarding morality. Baldly stated, the assumption is

103 A program combining Torah study and Army service

176 that the average Canaanite would not return a lost object, preferring to take it for himself, and that the average Israelite would seek to return it. This set of assumptions is made explicit on only one occasion during the havruta session:

96. Aharon Yes. But, if it's a bundle then we care, then, and then, and then it really matters to us if crowds are frequent there. And then it depends which crowds. If it's Canaanites then he despairs because the Canaanites will take it. And if it's an Israelite majority then he doesn't despair. Okay.

"Canaanites" is a term not found in many medieval Talmudic manuscripts, which instead feature goyyim , "nations" or non-Jews. 104 At the time of the writing of the Talmud, or any of the Tannaitic works found therein, there is no people known as the Canaanites. Rather, it seems that the text in the printed Vilna edition was changed from "non-Jews" to "Canaanites" in an act of censorship to avoid offending the surrounding Christian society. In other words, the history of the Talmudic text suggests an awareness of the offensive nature of the characterization of non-Jews as categorically less ethical regarding lost objects than their Jewish counterparts are. In changing the text to "Canaanites," it recontextualizes the discussion, or at least the explicit discussion, to a more distant rather than a more immediate context.

Perhaps this recontextualization may explain some of Gavriel and Aharon's lack of engagement with the problematics of the material in an immediate sense. As long as they are talking about Canaanites, an unknown and long-extinct Other, they have no reason to connect with them as potentially ethical individuals. They do not exchange "Canaanites" for "goyyim "105 as they replace "Israelites" on several

104 e.g. Firenze, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale , II.1.8-9; Vatican, Bibliotheca Apostolica , Ebr. 115; Vatican, Bibliotheca Apostolica , Ebr. 116-117. Various other versions are attested in standard printed editions of Medieval commentaries, such as kuthim ("Kuttites") in R. Isaac Alfasi (Ri"f) and ovdei kokhavim ("star worshippers") in R. Asher b. Yehiel (Ro"sh). 105 The only use of " goy " in the session refers to an individual, not a nation, and to one who performs a function that is well-known in Israeli society. Rashi features the placement of the Canaanites lishmor /"to guard," in Israelite houses of study, and Aharon inserts a shomer , the participle used in both

177 occasions with "Jews." The text, with its "Canaanites," remains an object of study that is removed from the learners' personal experience and frame of reference, and they take at face value the notion that these far-removed Canaanites are, as a group, less likely than Israelites to attend to the lost property of others.

This is of course not the only possible explanation for Aharon and Gavriel's lack of attention to the moral implications of the text in front of them. I suggest, in light of the data, that it may be a factor, but merely one of several. It is also possible that their society is so insular and/or xenophobic that the implications of the text are clear to them and deemed perfectly acceptable. It may also be the case that this sort of engagement with the ideas in the text is not perceived as part of the activity that they are enacting, either because, for instance, they are so busy trying to read and understand the text itself during this session that they do not attend to issues beyond the plain meaning of the text, or because havruta learning as enacted in this setting inherently does not include such engagement.

6.12 The Havruta Session: Reading Practices, Aims, and Discourses

The latter suggestion raises the question of what happens during the havruta session as a whole. The features that have been identified thus far certainly contribute to this picture. However, a more linear overview of the session may paint a broader picture of the nature of the learning activity, as well as addressing three specific avenues of inquiry regarding this particular enactment of Talmud study: What reading practices are associated with Talmud study? What aims seem to be served by, or reflected in, this mode of activity? In what ways, if any, does the Discourse of school interact with the Discourse of Yeshivah? Embedded in these questions are the issues

Rabbinic and Modern Hebrew to mean a guard. The shomer is a fixture of life in Israel; it is a shomer who checks one's bags at the supermarket entrance and the trunk of one's car when pulling into a shopping mall parking garage, and there is a shomer at the entrance to every school, including Yeshivat

178 of the source of knowledge and the epistemic authority of the learner to interpret that knowledge.

Returning to the session outline as presented earlier (Figure 6), the students read the text in three discrete segments, which are demarcated by discourse markers, in this case citation markers, which are in the Talmudic text itself and are recognized as such by the learners. We have explored the transitions between the segments of the havruta session; now let us examine the progress of the session within each segment.

The primary characteristic common to each segment is the pattern of reading and paraphrasing. The initial reading is rapid, and is followed by the construction of meaning through paraphrase and large amounts of text citation. Metacognitive elements appear primarily in cases of confusion, when one (or both) of the students says that he does not understand the text.

6.12.1 Segment 1: "It’s like it’s preparation"

The first section of the text attempts to refine R. Shimon b. Elazar’s previously cited statement that an object recovered from an animal or found in a public place belongs to the finder, in order to determine not just his position but that of the Rabbis, and ultimately, to determine which position is adopted normatively. It presents a series of binary options, presented in question form, surrounding the additional factor of the Canaanite versus Israelite majority. Thus the text (BT Baba Metsi`a 24a) reads:

The question was asked: Did R. Shimon b. Elazar say this where the majority of the people are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites, or also where the majority are Israelites? And if you come to the conclusion that [he said this] also where the majority are Israelites do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree, where the majority are Israelites they certainly disagree, where the majority are Canaanites, do they disagree, or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree even where the majority are Canaanites, is the law in

Darkhei Noam. Thus, this aspect of the Talmudic text, or Rashi's commentary, as the case may be, is contextualized for Aharon in a way that invites a contemporary usage of " goy ."

179 accordance with his view or is the law not in accordance with his view? And if you come to the conclusion that the law is in accordance with his view, does this apply only to the case where the majority are Canaanites, or also to the case where the majority are Israelites?

Aharon (1) begins by reading, getting through the first question when he is interrupted by Gavriel:

1. Aharon The question was asked: Did Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar say this where the majority of the people are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites, or also where the majority are Israelites? 2. Gavriel No, no I didn’t understand the difference. What’s the connection between a Canaanite majority and an Israelite majority? 3. Aharon Just a minute, but that’s not the end. It’s a question. They say, does he say it only in a place where the majority is Canaanite and there are a few Israelites, or also where the majority are Israelites? Do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion

Gavriel (2) says that he "didn’t understand the difference," seeming to mean that he does not understand the relevance of the Canaanite-Israelite distinction to the case at hand. In fact, this distinction has not yet been made within the text; it is featured in the Tannaitic text that only appears as the third segment of the text at hand. The immediate context is an earlier statement of R. Shimon b. Elazar regarding lost objects, 106 and the entire discussion is prompted by the citation of R. Shimon b.

Elazar’s position that certain vessels may be kept by the finder, in the opening

Mishnah of the chapter. 107 Gavriel seeks context, or "connection" for the Canaanite-

Israelite distinction, and finds none. His use of "qesher /connection, relationship" suggests that the sense of the question is, "What has this got to do with anything?"

This reflects a belief that the Talmuduc discussion is structured in such a way that the relationships among the elements should be clear, and that the previously studied text should elucidate that which is currently studied. Aharon (3) offers a different

180 approach. By saying "but that’s not the end," he posits that each unit of text should be internally intelligible and not necessarily closely related to the preceding text, but that the entire unit must be read prior to attempting comprehension. 108 This is indeed the method followed by the pair throughout the session; the students read a unit of text, with some decoding efforts along the way, and only then do they try to construct the sense, or the meaning, of the text.

Gavriel continues reading the text (4), in the overlapping reading that we have noted, and Aharon (5) offers an extended paraphrasic explanation. Gavriel again asserts confusion (6): "I didn’t understand anything. The gemara says…" At this point, Aharon begins to respond, with Gavriel contributing to the explanation:

7. Aharon There are two questions 8. Gavriel That…that he sai d it, the section these belong to him , it's in a place where specifically the majority are Canaanites and that maybe also in a place that the majority is Israelite it’s like that. 9. Aharon Yeah. That’s one question. The second question, , do the, ah…Rabbis 10. Gavriel disagree with him 11. Aharon Where do the Rabbis disagree 12. Gavriel or not. And then if you say they disagree where the majority are Israelite then…yeah. If they disagree where the majority is Israelite then certainly they disagree where the majority is Canaanite. Or or not disagree . Ah, no, that's not… If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites they would certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites 13. Aharon Alright, they'll explain it, like… 14. Gavriel Alright, fine.

Aharon (7) opens with a metalinguistic utterance, a statement of what the language, in this case the text, is doing. He asserts that the function of the language is to ask questions, and provides a further structural guide, the number two. Gavriel (8)

106 "It has been taught: 'R. Shimon b. Elazar admits that new vessels which the eye has sufficiently noted have to be announced. And the following new vessels which the eye has not sufficiently noted have not to be announced…’" 107 BT Baba Metsi`a 21a 108 We have seen another attempt by Aharon (line 291) to move forwards in the text as a way to comprehend that which has already been read, reflecting this belief about the text, and in that case the attempt is aborted after Gavriel asserts that the border of the text segment has been reached (p. 163-4).

181 is then able not only to identify what Aharon (9) confirms ("Yeah.") and labels as

"one question," but he, too performs a metalinguistic move, referring back to a piece of text as a discrete entity ("the section these belong to him "). Such metalinguistic statements are uncommon in the "reading" portions of the session, and appear here in response to the self-referencing "I didn’t understand."

The two paraphrase the text in overlapping turns and return to reading (9-12), at which point they do not explain but, using the discourse markers "alright (13, 14)" and "fine (14)," they decide, without explicitly strategizing, to continue in the text even though they do not understand it. Rather, Aharon expresses a belief that the anonymous Talmudic authors play an interpretive, or at least explanatory, role within the text: "they’ll explain it (13)."109

The boys plow forwards with the text in six speaking turns (15-20) that are comprised almost exclusively of overlapping reading. The notable exceptions are

Gavriel’s single "yeah" followed by a lengthy reading of text and a trailed off "it’s…"

(20), and, more significantly, Aharon’s (17) use of the discourse marker "alright" to bound off the text and offer an evaluative statement, which is tempered by the hedge ke’ilu : "Like they don’t say anything."

At this point, they have read the same segment of text twice, and have identified, or constructed, structure ("there are two questions") but not meaning ("they don’t say anything"). Aharon’s next turn reads:

109 Their confusion at this point may be rooted in the fact that they are having difficulty with the syntax of the final phrase, which may be fairly literally translated and punctuated as: “And if you come to the conclusion ( ve’im timtse lomar ) that they disagree ( pligei ), where the majority are Israelites ( berov yisra’el ) they certainly disagree ( vadai pligei ), where the majority are Canaanites ( berov kenaanim ), do they disagree ( pligei ), or do they not disagree (‘ o la’ - the students pronounce this as the Hebrew equivalent “ lo' ” - pligei )?” but which Gavriel reads by pausing between “Israelites” and “certainly,” rather than before and after the phrase “where the majority are Israelites ( berov yisra’el ) they certainly disagree ( vadai pligei ).” The resulting rendering reads: “If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites, they would certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites,” and leaves the final phrase, “do they disagree ( pligei ), or do they not disagree (‘ o la’ pligei ),” syntactically hanging.

182 21. Aharon There's a flowchart here. It's as if it says, as a topic it says …these are his . Right? And then…one who recovers etcetera, alright, fine. Okay. And then this, this, is it a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority.

This move may be read as a procedural move, a proposal to understand this segment of text through the application of a particular strategy, a flowchart.

Furthermore, a flowchart may be seen as a strategy found within the Discourse of school, though, as discussed above, 110 the data suggests that Darkhei Noam students view charting strategies as part of the Discourse of Yeshivah or of Talmud.

In this instance, however, Aharon does not propose the charting as a strategy to be used by the learner who wishes to understand the Talmud, in the model of yeshivah. Rather, his is a structural claim that goes to the Talmud itself; "There's a flowchart here" suggests that the chart is inherent to, and emerges directly from, the text. He does not seek to construct the knowledge that emerges from the Talmud, but rather he seeks to represent that knowledge in a way that he believes is already present in the text.

Indeed, the system of questions offering binary options that is found in this passage suggests a flowchart in the form of a decision tree, and, following the initial decoding that we have seen (1-20), which we shall call Segment 1a, the pair proceed to construct such a chart (21-67). Aharon (21) has proposed a "topic," or title, for the chart. One student writes, as they both lean over a loose page and add to the chart.

During Segment 1b, there is some talk of the charting process: they relate to the binary system but recognize that only one side is fully developed ("then after that it turns into two (39)"/"It’s like it relates just to one side, do you understand? Each time

(41)"); relate the text to its graphic representation ("that means that we have another split (46)"); and acknowledge a lacuna ("We skipped some stage (54)"/"We have to

183 stick something else in here (58)") and organizational difficulties ("I don’t know where to stick this so it doesn’t matter, I’ll organize it for a second, and it, and at the end…(62)"). However, there is also a lot of reading and/or direct citation of text; twenty-eight of the forty-seven speaking turns feature these elements. In some instances, the text is articulated slowly as the student writes it on the page, while others exhibit the rapid reading and interspersed paraphrasing seen throughout the initial decoding phase (Segment 1a). It is in this context that Aharon and Gavriel grapple with the syntactical difficulty that was previously misread and unacknowledged, ultimately arriving at a syntactically sound interpretation that allows them to continue reading:

49. Aharon If you come to the conclusion that he said it even in a case where the majority are Israelite, do the Rabbis disagree with him or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites, they certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites. If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites, they certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites. 50. Gavriel If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites they certainly… they certainly disagree 51. Aharon It seems to me, they disagree about a majority – Israelite they definitely disagree, about a Canaanite majority. Ah, if you say that the Rabbis disagree with him, then where there is an Israelite majority they certainly disagree with him. But where the majority are Canaanites, do they disagree or do they not disagree.

Aharon (49) reads the text twice, and then Gavriel (50) reads the same text.

Understanding, or meaning, is expected to emerge from the text itself, and there are no explicit questions, comments or explanations that accompany these rereadings as each student attempts to read the text with tenable punctuation. Aharon (51), saying

"it seems to me" to indicate a subjective interpretive move, then punctuates soundly,

110 See pp. 146-147.

184 explains with what is essentially a paraphrase, and is then able to add the previously- dangling phrase, "do they disagree or do they not disagree ."

By the end of Segment 1b, the pair have constructed a chart resembling that which appears below (Figure 8). Appearing here in translation, note that each of the elements is labeled using the Talmud’s terminology. Following all of this, Gavriel

(66) summarizes the charting activity: "This flowchart is very impressive. I didn’t understand anything from it. I didn’t understand what…"

R”Sh ben Elazar These belong to him

Majority are Israelite Majority are Canaanites

The Rabbis do The Rabbis disagree not disagree

Or they do not disagree They disagree where the where the majority are majority are Canaanites Canaanites

Or the law is not The law is according according to his position to his position

Specifically where the Specifically where the majority are Israelite majority are Canaanites

Figure 8

To Gavriel’s assessment that he "didn’t understand anything from it," variations upon appear on several occasions, Aharon responds with his usual strategy,

185 to keep on going in the hope that the issues will be resolved. In this case, however, he makes a claim about the nature of the chart itself. This section, which we shall refer to as Segment 1c, is the border section which transitions to Segment 2.

67. Aharon It's like it's preparation. 68. Gavriel What's that? It's preparation like for what we're going to learn? 69. Aharon First of all, um, they clarify…just, it just brings us, Rabbi Elazar, Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, yes? Without telling us if the law is according to him or the law isn't according to him. What case he's talking about, yeah. 70. Gavriel Yeah. 71. Aharon And then after they say all these things it brings the come and hear . 72. Gavriel Alright. Come and hear: …

In line 67, the referent of the pronoun "it/ zeh " may be the chart. However, in line 69, "it"111 refers to the Talmudic text, which is clarified even further in line 71, "it brings the come and hear /hu mevi et hata shema ." This move reinforces the notion that, for Aharon, the chart is not only a representation of but in some way synonymous with the text itself. Gavriel has said that he does not understand anything from the chart, and Aharon counters with an assertion about the text. The first segment is "preparation" for what is to come. He maintains that the crux of the discussion must be "if the law is according to him or the law isn't according to him," and that the part in which "they clarify…what case he’s talking about" is not meant to be understood as an independent unit. Since Gavriel trails off with "I didn’t understand what…," it is not clear what he believes he did not understand about the

"impressive" chart. It could be that he doesn’t understand the relationship between the chart and the text, though he says that he "didn’t understand anything from it." Rather, it appears that the chart has not yielded understanding of the text. Aharon’s response suggests that this sort of lack of understanding refers not to the content of the text, but to its function ("it’s preparation"), in yet another metalinguistic move about what the

186 text is doing . This stance indicates an approach to (or a perception of) the Talmud whereby meaning emerges from the functional relationships among the various elements.

6.12.2 Segment 2: "Therefore he despairs"

Segment 2 (lines 72-116) of the havruta session features the section of text, discursively marked in the text with "ta shema /come and hear," which discusses the synagogues and houses of study:

Come and hear: If one finds money in synagogues or houses of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to the finder, because the owner has despaired. Now, who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not R. Shimon b. Elazar? You must therefore conclude that [he applies this principle] also to a case where the majority are Israelites! What are we dealing with here? With scattered. But if [the money was] scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! Therefore, [the reference is to money found] in bundles, but we deal here with Synagogues of Canaanites. But how can this be applied to 'houses of study'? — [The reference is to] our houses of study in which Canaanites stay. Now that you have arrived at this conclusion, [the reference to] 'Synagogues' [can] also [be explained as meaning] our Synagogues in which Canaanites stay.

This portion of text features a Tannaitic passage that is cited in an attempt to determine in what types of cases R. Shimon b. Elazar’s ruling about objects found in public places applies. Since the passage refers to social institutions that are generally regarded as Israelite, perhaps it demonstrates that R. Shimon’s principle applies to a case of an Israelite majority. This conclusion is ultimately rejected, as the Talmudic discussion introduces means of classifying synagogues and study halls as Canaanite.

I have already cited and analyzed a great deal of Gavriel and Aharon’s speech activity surrounding this passage. For the purpose of a broader view of the learning, two further observations will suffice.

111 The pronoun represents here the subject of mevi lanu /”brings us,” whose subject is unspecified.

187 First, the entire segment is characterized by the reading-paraphrasing- explaining pattern which has been identified throughout the session. Second, the end of this segment features conclusions that are highly localized, and do not attend at all to the connection between this section and the previous one, despite Aharon’s assertion that the functional relationship between the segments yields their meaning.

113. Aharon In any case…they're there all the time, the guards. They see [unclear], therefore he despairs. Because there are guards there, a Canaanite guard. Therefore he despairs. The fact that there's a Canaanite guard, 114. Gavriel Yeah 115. Aharon Therefore he despairs. Which is what we said, synagogues, houses of study. Why does it belong to him [the finder]? Because there are Canaanites there. 116. Gavriel Now that you have arrived at this conclusion, ‘synagogues’ [can] also [be explained as meaning] our synagogues in which Canaanites stay. 117. Aharon Okay, come and hear: if one finds

The presence of the Canaanite guard is used to explain why the original owner despairs ("Therefore he despairs," 113, 115) in the case of an object lost in a house of study or, by subsequent extension (116), in a synagogue. This conclusion responds to an implicit question about the Tannatic text that has been cited, 112 namely, why has the owner despaired. With this, Gavriel (116) reads the remainder of the segment and the students, having understood that line, continue with Aharon’s (117) use of the discourse marker "okay" and reading of the next section of text, indicated by the citation marker "come and hear." The students have not considered the larger questions of why this passage has been cited here, and what it does, or, in the case at hand, does not, reveal about the previous passage, which itself has explicitly posed many unanswered questions.

112 “If one finds money in synagogues or houses of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to the finder, because the owner has despaired .”

188 6.12.3 Segment 3: "No, at the beginning they say…"

The pair thus move into Segment 3 (117-164), which cites a Mishnah

(Makhshirin 2:8) about an object found in a mixed city:

Come and hear: If one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites it has to be announced, but if the majority are Canaanites it has not to be announced. Now who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not R. Shimon b. Elazar? You must therefore conclude that R. Shimon b. Elazar says this only where the majority are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites! — [No.] This is the view of the Rabbis. But then you could conclude therefrom that the Rabbis accept R. Shimon b. Elazar 's view in the case where the majority are Canaanites! — Admittedly, therefore, this represents the view of R. Shimon b. Elazar, and his ruling applies also to a case where the majority are Israelites, and what are we dealing with here? With concealed. But if it was concealed, what has [the finder] to do with it? Have we not learnt: 'if one finds a vessel in a dungheap, if covered up he may not touch it; but if uncovered he must take it and announce it'? — As Rav Papa explained: [The reference is] to a dungheap which is not regularly cleared away, and which [the owner] unexpectedly decided to clear away — so here also [the reference is] to a dungheap which is not regularly cleared away, and which [the owner] unexpectedly decided to clear away. (24b) And if you wish I will say: Admittedly this is the view of the Rabbis, but is it stated. 'They belong to the finder'? — It [merely] says 'He has not to announce them' [meaning that] he lets it lie, and when an Israelite comes and indicates an identification mark in it he receives it.

Once again, the Talmud cites a Tannaitic source that is intended to shed light on the questions under discussion regarding the positions of R. Shimon b. Elazar and the Rabbis, and the case in the cited Mishnah is limited to a very specific case (an object that was concealed in a dungheap that is unexpectedly cleared away). The interim conclusion is that the Mishnah’s position is in agreement with R. Shimon b.

Elazar, and an alternative solution is then offered in which it represents the position of the Rabbis.

This section of text may be characterized as confusing, and it would be all the more so to a learner who has not attended to the context of the previous passage, nor the relationships among the various consecutive passages. Aharon and Gavriel, however, press forward with their reading.

189 The pattern of reading and paraphrasing (Segment 3a), which includes the reference to Acre cited earlier, continues through line 137. At this point, the students engage in interpretive discussion surrounding the issue of whose position is represented in the cited Mishnah. In this instance, they have not reached a discursively-marked stopping point in the text, and are only about midway through the section cited above. However, they find themselves unable, at this time, to read more text without succeeding in some construction of meaning within what they have read.

The transition to this interpretive portion of the session (Segment 3b, 139-164) bears a strong resemblance to the transition to Segment 4, the interpretive discussion of the entire text. In this case, though, we find not the "alright," "fine," and "okay" of assent that mark the segment borders, but the dissenting "but" (138) and "no" (139).

138. Gavriel But if it’s an Israelite majority then even if it isn’t concealed like, even if it isn’t concealed he isn’t supposed to despair. It doesn’t make a difference. Like we’re talking here like about two things. It’s talking here also about an Israelite majority and also about concealed. Because fundamentally, what interests us is the Israelite majority. Bottom line – it doesn’t matter if it’s concealed or not. 139. Aharon No, at the beginning they say, this Mishnah should be like the Rabbis. Then they say no. It’s like Rabbi Shimon. Rabbi, Rabbi Shimon says and why even where the majority is Israelite – even where the majority is Israelite it belongs to him. Yes?

Gavriel (138) struggles to understand why it matters whether or not the object is concealed. Rather, he asserts that the overarching principle of the Israelite majority should cover this case as well. It is here that the pair moves from their reading of the text about a concealed object, towards an attempt to integrate the various sections of the text in a way that yields meaning. Gavriel locates the integration of the concepts with the learner ("Like we’re talking here like about two things", "what interests us is the Israelite majority"). Aharon (139) makes the integrative attempt explicit by

190 referring back to "the beginning" and attempting to construct a unified understanding of all of the interpretive moves in the Talmudic discussion, in much the same vein as he does later on (165). For him, the interpretive voice is that of the Talmud itself, or the anonymous Rabbinic voices reflected therein, "they say."

Throughout Segment 3b, the explicit voice of disagreement is heard. Gavriel continues to question the relationship between the principle of the majority and the interpretation that the Mishnah is talking about a concealed object, and Aharon twice begins his speaking turn with "no" (153, 163). It is here also that Aharon addresses

Gavriel sharply by name (161).

6.12.4 Segment 4: "It just…complicates itself"

It has appeared throughout the session that Aharon is the stronger participant, frequently explaining to Gavriel. However, as they move past the segment border discussed earlier and into the interpretive discussion, the voices of Aharon, Gavriel, and the text itself take on a somewhat different sound. Some of the speaking turns in the lengthy citation below have been slightly abridged, as indicated by ellipses in the table.

165. Aharon It seems to me. Despite the fact that it, like according to Rabbi Shimon at the beginning, what he says, If one rescues anything from a lion, a bear, a leopard, any place that are frequent, where crowds are frequent, it belongs to him. It’s impossible to know really what he thinks. And they are trying to guess like what 166. Gavriel It’s impossible to know what he thinks really 167. Aharon They decided that - I don’t know. The gemara decided that Rabbi Shimon is of the opinion [that] the majority [is the determining factor]. It doesn’t, it doesn’t sound like that. 168. Gavriel What does that mean? He says, any place where crowds are frequent. 169. Aharon Nu? 170. Gavriel So Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says that. First of all, he mentions the crowds. It’s not that the gemara makes it up. 171. Aharon Crowds ( rabbim ). Not the majority ( harov ). He says every place the crowds … You understand? 172. Gavriel So the gemara doesn’t make it up. It’s actually demanded. In general he says any place where crowds gather. It’s not fair. So crowds are there…

191 173. Aharon Why [would the text say] these belong to him, so say that it's specifically where there's a majority. 174. Gavriel Like, specifically 175. Aharon Where the majority are Canaanites. 176. Gavriel Yeah. These belong to him, specifically where the majority are Canaanites, but if it's where the majority are Israelite, then he won't say it. 177. Aharon That's an option. But it doesn't have to be. It doesn't. It's like they said, can it be right? They asked. That whole, whole chart that we said. … Then whether the law is according to him or we'll know specifically - like, you understand 178. Gavriel I don 't understand, what did you say, again 179. Aharon They raise all kinds of conjectures [regarding] what, what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks. 180. Gavriel Yeah? 181. Aharon Regarding majority. But they don’t decide it. And then suddenly and then like they try to decide what he thinks but like they start out with the assumption that they know what he thinks - I don’t know – what - how to read it like after after they say come and hear: one who finds money in synagogues and in houses of study , and, and, and, and, these belong to him, because the owner has despaired. And then they say, who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority . Like they ask, from where do you know that it goes according to the majority?

Aharon (165), as seen in the discussion of the segment border, agrees with

Gavriel's vague restatement of his explanation, positing an element of subjectivity ("It seems to me"). He then calls this interpretation into question in light of the earlier

Tannaitic text ("If one rescues anything ,,,"), and then casts doubt upon the entire endeavor undertaken by the anonymous Talmudic authors (the task is "impossible" and so "they are trying to guess"). Gavriel (166) echoes the statement, and Aharon

(167) continues in his skeptical stance vis-à-vis the text ("They/The gemara decided,"

"it doesn't sound like that"). Gavriel (168, 170) adduces evidence ( "any place where the crowds are frequent ") in defense of the text: "It's not that the gemara makes it up."

Aharon (171) rejects this evidence ("Crowds ( rabbim ). Not the majority ( harov )."), while Gavriel (172) reasserts his claim. Aharon (173) again questions Gavriel's assertion, this time advancing an implicit claim about the way the Talmud works:

192 "Why [would the text say] these belong to him, so say that it's specifically where there's a majority." He expects that the text will say what it means, and that if the majority is a factor, one could demand that this be explicitly included.

Gavriel takes on for a moment the role of the dominant voice, as he begins a sentence (174), Aharon completes it (175), and offers an interpretation (176) which

Aharon concedes as "an option" (177). He then refers back to the first portion of the text ("That whole, whole chart that we said."), in which there are many questions but no conclusions. Gavriel (178) asks for clarification, and Aharon (179, 181), echoing his earlier use of "guess," says, "they raise all kinds of conjectures" and accuses the

Talmudic authors of drawing unfounded conclusions: "And then suddenly and then like they try to decide what he thinks but like they start out with the assumption that they know what he thinks."

At this point, Aharon returns to the text itself, reading a passage and returning the interpretive weight to the text itself. In doing so, he casts doubt upon his own ability to read and interpret the text: " I don’t know – what - how to read it (181)." As the discussion continues, the voice of the text is restored and Gavriel's voice is strengthened. After several speaking turns in this vein, Gavriel (188) offers a summation remark, introduced with "fine," and Aharon proposes, beginning with

"alright," that they follow the very procedure for which he has critiqued the authors of the Talmudic discussion:

188. Gavriel Fine, and then the gem ara ans…and then the gemara answers (or: resolves) it. 189. Aharon Alright. So let’s start with an assumption that that’s really what Rabbi Shimon thinks.

The students continue trying to make sense of the text, with one or the other as the dominant voice at various times. Language of dissent, negation and challenge

193 abounds; in addition to occurrences of "no" and "but" as we have already seen, we find, for example, "One minute, so what? (217)," and "They don't say that it's according to the Rabbis (232)." As the discussion nears its end, Aharon offers his assessment of the entire Talmudic discussion:

245. Aharon I don’t know. It like it just…just ah…complicates it. Complicates itself.

On the one hand, the failing is his: "I don't know." On the other hand, he expresses a sense of futility that is rooted in the text, which just "complicates itself."

Ultimately, in the segment border that we have seen above (lines 254-256), the novice learning partners are unable to independently construct meaning. They have struggled between the assumption that the text makes sense, and their own inability to arrive at that sense. They expect a conclusion – is the Mishnah according to the position of R.

Shimon or not – and find that the text seems to conclude one thing (that the Mishnah is according to R. Shimon, e.g. 246), while their evidence, or reading of the text, indicates otherwise (e.g. 252). When they cannot resolve this conflict, when Aharon does not have a response to Gavriel's insistence that the position represented in the text is not that of R. Shimon, they seek assistance from Rav Uzi.

6.12.5 Segment 5: "I’ll go ask Rav Uzi"

During morning seder in the beit midrash , Rav Uzi is frequently surrounded by a group of students. They gather at his small table that is nested next to the left side wall of the room, abutted by a bookcase. They stand in a clustered line to speak with him at the bimah or, more frequently, at the back of the room. One student's question may prompt discussion among the entire group waiting; those waiting may simply listen to the response given to their classmates, and it may elucidate the issue for them as well; or the students not directly involved in the conversation may talk with their

194 friends or just stand waiting, with a book or paper open or closed in their hands. This process is informal in that it has the sense of continuous and overlapping conversations; the queueing and waiting protocols are similarly fluid.

The topics for individual or group discussion fall into three basic categories.

One is questions related to the previous Talmud class; a student may ask Rav Uzi to elaborate upon or explain a point, or may continue arguing his own point from the class discussion. These conversations frequently take place at Rav Uzi's desk immediately following class, and are not often continued in the beit midrash . The second type of discussion is related to a class, discussion or presentation which has taken place during the Talmud portion of the day but is not directly connected to the

Talmudic text and commentaries that are studied in a linear and continuous fashion and form the base of the Talmud curriculum. Rather, they deal with various issues, be they philosophical, political, or normative, on an ad hoc basis. These sessions frequently spark lively discussion which spills over into the beit midrash .113

The third and most common catalyst for beit midrash discussion with Rav Uzi, however, is of the sort that we find in Aharon and Gavriel's havruta session, and which students and teacher alike mentioned in their interviews. Namely, students get stuck in their learning and go to ask their teacher a question. The majority of the sessions that I observed, which involved students of varying levels of expertise, featured this strategy. I noticed, both in the particular havruta sessions and in my general observations in the beit midrash , that on some occasions both partners would go to speak with Rav Uzi, but that many times, just one student would go to ask, and

113 There was one occasion upon which I observed nearly an entire morning seder in the beit midrash devoted to a discussion of this sort; Rav Uzi spoke with several students as others proceeded with their study, drifting over in turn to listen to or participate in part of the conversation. On this particular occasion, a guest Rabbi had given a classroom presentation on the topic of intermingling among the sexes in religious and general society, presenting a somewhat more permissive view than that to which

195 would return to report to his learning partner. This was the case with Aharon and

Gavriel. Aharon left to talk with Rav Uzi. I asked Gavriel to describe to me what exactly Aharon went to ask, which he did in similar language to that used by the two boys together. Gavriel then left his seat and went to talk to another student. A few minutes later, he went to stand near Rav Uzi as well; Aharon was listening while Rav

Uzi spoke animatedly and Gavriel stood off to the side speaking with another student.

6.12.6 Segment 6: "They’re trying to say here, you see…"

When Aharon returns after fourteen minutes (Segment 5, 255-256), his is the dominant voice as he transmits what Rav Uzi has explained to him, and then the pair briefly discuss the explanation (Segment 6, 257-275). Aharon begins his report by saying, "Basically. We didn't understand so correctly before (257)." Gavriel expresses some dismay at this idea ("Everything? We didn't understand everything correctly?

(258)"), Aharon introduces an explanation of R. Shimon's position (259), and then there is a series of twelve speaking turns (260-271) in which Aharon speaks for an extended period of time, punctuated by utterances from Gavriel such as "Yeah" and

"Right," as well as one brief sentence completion (264), all of which fill the function of continuing to grant speaking rights to Aharon. Aharon is now the holder of the social capital, which he has literally retrieved from its possessor, the teacher-as- expert. Having achieved this level of expertise, he is equipped to share it with his now-more-novice partner.

Throughout his extended presentation, Aharon never refers to Rav Uzi; he has not received an interpretation of the text from one of its interpreters, he has received the interpretation which is presumed to lie within the text itself. This approach to meaning and knowledge as emerging from the text is suggested by the reading and

some of the Yeshivat Darkhei Noam boys were accustomed. Rav Uzi was therefore called upon to offer

196 citation practices that we have seen throughout the session, and is reflected strongly in

Aharon's presentation. While he does not cite Rav Uzi, he cites the text extensively, essentially reading though it in its entirety over the course of the explanation. For example, in what is not by any means the lengthiest speaking turn of this segment

(263):

1 If one finds money in a synagogue or a house of study, or in any other place 2 where crowds are frequent, it belongs to him (the finder), because the owner 3 has despaired. Now, who is the authority that lays it down that we go 4 according to the majority if not R. Shimon b. Elazar? You must therefore 5 conclude that [he applies this principle] also to a case where the majority are 6 Israelites! Yes? They’re trying to say here, you see, a place where it’s an 7 Israelite majority, they specifically say that it’s an Israelite majority, which is 8 synagogues and houses of study, then he has to announce. Yes? But, but b-but 9 in the case that it was let’s say a majority of Canaanites, then he doesn’t have 10 to announce. Doesn’t have to be. What are we dealing with here? With 11 scattered. If with scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? 12 It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! Therefore, [the 13 reference is to money found] in bundles, but we deal here with Synagogues 14 of Canaanites...Houses of study etcetera etcetera. And they say that it’s 15 synagogues and houses of study, it doesn’t have to be specifically –

Aharon refers here continuously to "they" (lines 6, 7, 14), the Talmudic authors, as he traces the line of their discussion. The purpose of the explanation is to determine what "they're trying to say" (line 6), with the role of the reader being to uncover authorial intent. He punctuates his presentation with "Yes?" (line 6), acknowledging his listener but retaining speaking rights. His presentation continues through textual citation interspersed with paraphrase and, in a departure from the reading and decoding segments of the session, extensive explanation of the relationships among the elements. Ultimately, the reading with explanation continues in the text beyond what the students had previously read or attempted to explain, through the section about the dungheap. Embedded in this presentation is the idea that, had they read several lines further – a strategy that Aharon proposes or

some sort of explanation or response, and this activity took place during seder in the beit midrash .

197 implements on several other occasions – the pair would have reached a point in the text at which meaning could have been more easily constructed. Gavriel implies that, with the close of the particular portion of reading along with the accompanying explanation, the text has itself presented or arrived at a conclusion. Aharon rejects this assumption:

272. Gavriel So like we…we proved it now? It isn’t 273. Aharon So it isn’t a proof. There’s no proof from the - it’s impossible to know what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks. It could be that he thinks that…that…it could be that he thinks that it matters to us, the majority, but in the meantime what, but in the meantime what he says is like it seems at the beginning. 274. Gavriel Yeah? 275. Aharon He says, any place where crowds gather, or that he despair s in a very very…extreme case that this one despairs, then these belong to him. He’s not talking specifically re- regarding an Israelite majority or a Canaanite majority, despite the fact that there’s an issue that the majority are Israelite and the majority are Canaanites but not in…not in a place where crowds gather, rather only in a specific place 276. Gavriel Okay. And if you wish I will say: Admittedly, admittedly this is the view of the Rabbis …just a minute, one second. They belong to him. It says he has not to announce them he lets it lie and an Israelite comes and indicates an identification mark in it and receives it… I didn’t understand how to read it properly.

Gavriel (272), using "we" to recontextualize the learners as part of the

Talmudic discussion, asserts that the question of R. Shimon's position has been answered, or "prove[n]." The question form of the assertion reveals deference to

Aharon's expertise, and Aharon (273) in fact rejects his assertion. He first offers that

"there's no proof from the -," suggesting that the problem lies in some interpretive means, or in the subsequent data, and then rephrases to say that "it’s impossible to know what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks." There is no interpretive failure; the data does not support a definitive conclusion. Any clarity that the students have achieved disappears with this statement, but the boys do not dwell upon this or reflect in any

198 way upon the futility of their efforts thus far. Rather, they transition (276) to Segment

7 (276-290), in which they attempt to move forwards with the text.

6.12.7 Segment 7: "What does it prove? I don’t understand"

In this brief segment, the pair exhibit patterns of reading, paraphrasing, and explaining similar to the earlier segments. Here, though, they do not get very far; their unfruitful interpretive efforts limit their ability to construct meaning at this juncture.

Aharon is still willing to offer a localized explanation ("He’s prohibited to, like he’s prohibited from using it, something like that (287)."), but expresses confusion as to the purpose of the section ("But what does that prove?...what, what does it prove, I don’t understand (289).") It is here that Gavriel asks a question (290) and Aharon proposes moving further in the text (291), as we have seen earlier in the discussion of the border segments.

6.12.8 Segment 8: "Are you coming to class?"

The eighth and final segment of the session appears as follows:

291. Aharon So let’s continue, we’ll see. Maybe it will help. Come and hear: Rav Assi said: If one finds a barrel of wine in a town where the majority are Canaanites 292. Gavriel No, wait, wait. We have to stop. Rav Uzi said until here. 293. Aharon That means that here we’re supposed to have an answer? Rav Uzi is still here. 294. Gavriel Alright. He said 11:35. 295. Aharon Are you coming to class? They’ve started going. 296. Gavriel We didn’t understand, we di- didn’t understand the end here. Right? 297. Aharon Right. It’s like a different way to understand the Mishnah. 298. Gavriel Yeah. Maybe yes. No- 299. Aharon One answe r for the Mishnah is that it’s talking about concealed. The second answer, I didn’t understand it. 300. Gavriel Fine. Good job.

This segment features a point of nexus between the Discourse of Talmud and the Discourse of school. The students discuss the time (294), which has been referred to on only one other occasion throughout the interaction (204): "basically, we have to

199 hurry up." They place themselves spacially and temporally in relation to the other students (295) and to the teacher (293). They refer to the original assignment ("Rav

Uzi said until here (292).") in this single instance alone. As they prepare to end the session and move from the beit midrash to the classroom, Gavriel and Aharon begin to enact once again identities of "students," even as they have spent the past hour as

"learners." At the same time, they continue to enact their "learner" identities, continuing to discuss the text ("It’s like a different way to understand the Mishnah

(297)"/"One answer for the Mishnah…(299).") and their stance vis-à-vis the text ("we didn't understand (296)"/"I didn't understand (299)."). Just as the boys negotiate the identities of "students" and "learners," Rav Uzi, who in the beit midrash enacts primarily the identity of "expert," is reclaimed as the "teacher." In lines 292-293, Rav

Uzi's classroom instructions are cited as a compelling reason to end their reading at a particular point in the text: "We have to stop. Rav Uzi said until here." Rav Uzi's continued presence in the beit midrash is cited as justification for the pair to remain and continue learning: "Rav Uzi is still here." These factors show that he is viewed as an authority within the institutional context of school, and not only an expert within the community of practice, in which the novices experience legitimate peripheral participation. However, his instructions are pertinent not only because he is the teacher, but because his expertise provides guidance for the novices in approaching the text: "That means that here we’re supposed to have an answer?"; if Rav Uzi said to stop reading at a certain point, it must be the case that meaning can be constructed at that point.

Aharon has continued to discuss the text (299), while Gavriel responds with a closing formula signaling the end of the session (300). They end with the recognition that they did not understand the final part of the text that they read, but there is no

200 other summation activity, in written or oral form, akin to Baruch Schwarz's findings in his study of adult learners at the Mir Yeshivah (Schwarz 2011). Also notable in its absence is any acknowledgment of the portions of the teacher's assignment that they have not addressed at all; the students were instructed "to do…three Tosafots," which one would never know from the havruta transcript alone. These glaring absences are joined by that which has been noted earlier, the lack of any discussion of the ethical assumptions informing the Canaanite/Israelite distinction, and, in a broader sense, any attempt to address the applicability of the discussion to a contemporary situation. We have seen that localized attempts at recontextualization to a contemporary context are exceptions and not the rule, and that the students more frequently place themselves within the Talmudic text than place the Talmudic text within a present-day setting.

6.13 Lernen as Ritual: Epistemic Appropriation

What, then, is the nature and purpose of this learning activity? The most striking, as well as consistent, feature of the interaction is the reading practices that are enacted throughout. We have discussed the turn-taking, the sentence completion, the code-switching, and the constant and repetitious return to the reading of the text.

This reading takes on an almost ritual quality. Just as we have described prayer as a performative ritual with strong reliance on a scripted text, 114 learning, or lernen , takes on a performative quality. It does not matter how much one covers, exactly what one studies, or whether one remembers it afterwards. What matters is literally engaging in the reading of the text. The reading act is rendered meaningful through the attempts to paraphrase, explain, and integrate the portions of the text; perhaps these are considered part of the reading act, with no need for further meaning-making activity.

114 See Chapter 4.4.

201 The pair did not take notes during their session, 115 other than constructing a decision tree. They did not look at or make mention of a single one of the three

Tosafist comments that Rav Uzi assigned, nor did the teacher produce the page he said he might bring them. The particular text is not one that inspires a great deal of debate among Medieval commentaries, and Gavriel and Aharon certainly do not engage in substantive interpretive discussion. Their goal is to understand what the text says; for them, what the text says is what there is (and, of course, that is what will prepare them for class). In this sense, they construct an epistemology whereby the text is the source of knowledge. One might further be tempted, in light of their Rashi- reading method as well as Aharon’s return from his teacher-consultation with oracular truth, to posit that epistemic authority resides with the canonical interpreters of the text, to which an authority figure such as Rav Uzi is heir. Such an approach would be tempered by the fact that the boys consulted, with Rav Uzi or with Rashi, only when their own interpretive skills failed them; until that point, they advanced their own readings, and criticized the text when it did not make sense to them.

In terms of new knowledge or innovation, Aharon and Gavriel have not accomplished much in their session. In fact, they are not even certain that they understand what they have studied. However, they have engaged in a complex pattern of activity, of practices, that connects them to the text they have studied. They read it and reread it, they read themselves into it and out of it. The very act of inserting their voices, separately and together, into the Talmudic discussion gives the students a type of ownership over the knowledge, or over the text. I have termed this mode of activity epistemic appropriation , in an attempt to convey the sense that the learner claims interpretive rights and almost authorship rights to the text, even as he may not add to

115 Schwarz (2011) makes much of the fact that the students he observed did not take notes during their

202 or even truly understand it. This epistemic appropriation is fostered by an approach to

Talmud study that is highly process-oriented (Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal 1998;

Lichtenstein 1987), activity-oriented, which Samuel Heilman (1983: 246) deems

"much closer to ritual than to intellectual activity." The student engages in being a

Talmud learner, whether or not s/he is particularly successful in the products of learning Talmud. The nature of the encounter with the partner informs the nature of the encounter with the text, valued for its ways of doing and its ways of knowing. In many ways, Gavriel and Aharon are indeed experts; they know how to engage in the floundering and the questioning that comes with not knowing in this particular discipline, 116 whose cues they read and whose implicit vocabulary they know.

sessions nor summarize afterwards, with the learning resulting in no tangible product whatsoever. 116 This form of expertise is similar to that of the historians featured in Wineburg’s (1991) study who were experts in the discipline of history but not in the particular material under discussion.

203 The Beit Midrash : Conclusions

The beit midrash is the primary locus of Talmud study and of prayer at

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. Both of these activities are ritualized enactments of the identities associated with the school’s community of practice. Similar challenges confront the participants in each endeavor. In this setting, the challenges are largely dispositional. The activities demand of the students to be present, awake, and focused, while the students are frequently tired, restless, or distracted. However, the students, as novice participants in the community of practice, profess to value these activities, and the community creates modes of structure and performance that are accessible to them.

Prayer is an activity in which Darkhei Noam students achieve full participation. They have mastered its performative aspects and pursue – or do not pursue – any meaning-making that they wish. They are resistant to prayer-related activities that are perceived as stepping outside of the structures of prayer as they construct them, via the scripted text, yet they are able to adapt to variations regarding the sacred time and the sacred space as demanded. This combination of inflexibility and fluidity sheds light, as we have seen, on the nature of this prayer itself. It may additionally bring to bear some insight regarding the nature of this community of practice.

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam is not the first place in which the students have participated in prayer. Their junior high schools and home communities are other settings in which they have been participants, likely more peripherally at first, and then more fully, in a community of practice featuring prayer. As small children, they may have sat with their fathers in the synagogue, or come into the sanctuary long enough to stand under their father’s tallit prayer shawl for the Priestly blessing, kiss

204 the Torah as it is taken out of the aron qodesh , or just get a sweet from the "candy man." At school age, their peripheral participation may have included leading the congregation in hymns at the end of the Sabbath services. By the time he reaches Bar

Mitzvah age, it is typical for a boy emerging from the families and home communities represented at Darkhei Noam to enact a highly engaged peripheral participation. He is literally counted as a member of the community, towards the praying quorum of ten men; he wears the garb of the praying community; he may read from and be called to the Torah, and lead all parts of the services. Darkhei Noam students have likely attended communal prayers at least once per day, if not two or three times, throughout their early adolescence. Most have led services at one time or another, or even on a regular basis, and may have participated in youth services, in the context of synagogues, youth groups and schools, in which all functions are filled by teenagers.

At Darkhei Noam, then, and certainly as twelfth graders, the students are not novices within a new community of practice. Rather, they bring their knowledge and expertise from other communities of practice, or from a broader community of practice. While they may refine their prayer activities through reflective engagement and some activity-based manifestations of them (such as the student who prays for two hours), or they may adapt their practice to additional Discourses in which they participate (such as the gartel prayer belt favored by the neo-Hasidic adherents in the

Yeshivah), the prayer activity itself, the performative ritual remains immutable. They are experts at this endeavor, with its known structures and set script, and are not easily swayed within the community of practice at Darkhei Noam to alter these in any way.

Talmud study, on the other hand, is something that they have generally not experienced previously as an enactment of the Discourse of Yeshivah within a community of practice. Their previous experiences with Talmud, largely oriented

205 towards the skill-building necessary to facilitate entry into such a CoP but nonetheless undervalued by the students, did not offer independent learning in a beit midrash setting. As novices, throughout their years at the high school, their peripheral participation is guided by the teacher-as-expert. Some of the students have remained more peripheral participants, while others have moved towards more fully-engaged participation. For all of the participants, however, the process-oriented, or activity- centered, nature of the endeavor provides at least the sense that they are indeed achieving participation, via the technique of epistemic appropriation . A havruta pair who have not completed the assignment, have not understood the flow of the text, have not generated original ideas or summarized those of others, have nonetheless successfully engaged in the lernen activity.

The reading practices within the beit midrash suggest a ritualized activity which is centered upon text. The move within this activity from novice to expert takes one from a teacher-centered to a student-centered orientation, with epistemic authority residing with the student-learner. The data is equivocal as to the text-learner axis. On the one hand, there is much to suggest that knowledge is constructed by the learner, or in the interactional space between the learner and the text; the interview data supports such a view, as does the observation data regarding a critical stance towards the text.

On the other hand, the text is revealed to be the source of knowledge and meaning for the learners, who attempt to decode it according to authorial intent. The history of interpretation is an integral part of this process, perceived as a source of undertstanding and enacted as barely separate from the text itself.

I would like to propose a three-pronged approach to understanding this ambiguous data. The first two points suggest that there are indeed two sets of data, so to speak. First, the interview data is weighted towards a learner-centered approach

206 while the observation data is weighted towards a text-centered approach. This may indicate that the former is part of the ideology of the CoP, while the latter is reflected in the practice itself. Second, and related to the first point, is a possible distinction between those learners whose participation is more peripheral and those who have achieved a greater degree of participation. Perhaps the novice is reliant upon a text- centered approach, while the expert engages in learner-centered construction of knowledge and meaning. Indeed, the ideology would then reflect the idealized expert, while the practice would bow to the exigencies of the novice. Both of these suggestions entail dichotomies – ideology vs. practice, expert vs. novice – which are useful for analytical purposes but do not always account for the complexities of the research setting. I therefore offer these suggestions as overlapping lenses through which to view the data in its complexity and nuance. The third prong accounts for an aspect of the practice that is connected not to the enacted identities of the teacher or the students, but to the enacted construction of theTalmudic text itself. The Talmud is constructed as a series of interpretive discussions; subsequent interpretive discussions by commentators essentially continue those discussions. The effects of this construction are twofold and even contradictory. The commentators are in a way incorporated into the text, canonized as authoritative. At the same time, any and all subsequent learners are invited to have an interpretive voice, in the interpretive process that begins in the text itself and is continued through successive generations of commentary. This prong may itself be interpreted in light of the two dichotomies presented. The interaction among multiple factors is what ultimately reveals the complexity of the Talmud activity practiced in the Darkhei Noam beit midrash .

Seder in the beit midrash is perceived as the crux of the learning endeavor, and is favored by many students over the classroom experience even as they

207 acknowledge the attendant challenges. At the same time as the Darkhei Noam beit midrash is regarded as an authentic enactment of the Discourse of Yeshivah, it is delimited by its setting and population. The weak framing endemic to Yeshivah learning is found to be appropriate for only the most engaged participants in the high school context. The long hours at peak intensivity cannot be maintained. There are topics other than Talmud per se which are deemed important to offer the students within the school setting under the banner of Torah study.

Students have devised some mechanisms to overcome these challenges, such as "checking out" with the claim of sleep. Other mechanisms are provided by the interaction between the Discourse of Yeshivah and the Discourse of school. The strengthening of both framing and classification yields a highly structured morning in which rarely more than one third of "morning seder " is actually spent in seder . Class time and space encroach upon beit midrash time and space. Classes and assignments and attendance-taking are more the rule than the exception.

The function of all of these structuring elements is to remove from the beit midrash the aspects of the Darkhei Noam Talmud study activity which are not regarded as part of the Discourse of Talmud, or Yeshivah. These aspects then support the beit midrash activity itself, providing both the respite from and the scaffolding for the lernen endeavor. By reducing the scope of the hours and the amount of required self-discipline, independence, and expertise, the school as an institution is able to foster and sustain within the beit midrash a limited yet recognizable version of a CoP drawing upon the Discourse of Yeshivah.

208 Section III: The Classroom: Interpretation and Identity

Introduction: From Beit Midrash to Classroom

The community of practice at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam confers great weight, as we have seen, upon the activity that takes place in the beit midrash . Rav Uzi and his students tend to emphasize seder over shiur /class, as the former is valued as an authentic and unmediated encounter between learner and text. It also satisfies the activity orientation of the lernen endeavor. We have noted that the beit midrash activity is limited in scope and duration, and I have suggested that it is these very limits which support the practice, allowing the weakly framed, learner-centered lernen to take place among adolescents in this institutional context.

Against this backdrop, I would like to suggest that the classroom activity in some way interacts with the beit midrash activity. This interaction may be constructed in any of a number of different ways. For instance, the Talmud-related enterprise of the classroom may directly reinforce that of the beit midrash , moving the novices in the community of practice towards full participation. Alternatively, the classroom doings may represent the antithesis of the beit midrash doings; by removing these things from the beit midrash and confining them to the classroom, the beit midrash is allowed to thrive in a form that is perceived to be undiluted and pure. The interaction between these elements is a source of interest and of possible conflict, given the potential of the classroom activity to both support and undermine that of the beit midrash .

209 Chapter 7: Constructing the Classroom:

"You’re participating in something"

7.1 Architectonic Elements: "I would have three classrooms"

Rav Uzi’s Talmud class takes place in a freestanding prefabricated caravan classroom located across the road from the beit midrash . Situated towards the rear of the school property, behind the offices and past some dormitories, it is accessed via a dirt path that leads directly to its doorway. In the winter, the pathway is frequently muddy, with students attempting to traverse the area on stones and pebbles, avoiding the largest puddles. The dust, when dry, and mud, when wet, is tracked into the classroom. The floor is frequently littered with crumpled papers and other debris, while books and papers pile up on a table in the back of the room. Students are responsible, on a rotating basis by class grouping, for maintaining the cleanliness of the classroom (and the dormitories as well). On several occasions, Rav Uzi asked whose turn it was to clean, and the student would sweep the classroom floor even as the lesson began. At other times, the teacher would begin clearing off the tables, setting up the rows, or even sweeping, and a student or two would join in the effort.

The classroom is a space in which students and teachers have a stake in ownership and responsibility.

Rav Uzi’s classroom (Figure 9) evidences architectonic elements typical of many classrooms. There is a whiteboard at the front of the room, with the teacher’s desk in front of it and the teacher’s chair facing the rest of the room. The students sit at tables for two, generally organized in rows, three across and three or four back, and facing the front of the room.

However, these elements are fluid. One alternative arrangement observed on several occasions involves pushing several tables together to form a large rectangle,

210 around which students and teacher are seated. Rav Uzi positions himself either at the head of the large table or at the center spot on one of the long sides. A variation on this arrangement entails the gathering of the students around the teacher’s desk, which is in essence expanded by the addition of some student tables. Students then sit facing

Rav Uzi and perpendicular to him, but not next to him. Another arrangement is seating in a circle, with no tables at all.

Door Whiteboard Bulletin board

Teacher ’s Desk

Student desks Chairs

Windows Windows

Cubbies

Figure 9: The Classroom (drawing is not to scale)

The standard frontal arrangement is by far the most prevalent. Seating in a circle is reserved for the occasional opening or closing segment, and is never used for text-based Talmud study. It is with chairs in a circle that the students read and comment upon an article featuring bereaved families whose sons fell in Operation

211 Cast Lead in Gaza; offer their opinions about what qualifies as a religious experience; and read aloud a tribute to Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach on the anniversary of his death.

The other alternative arrangements, in which tables are pushed together to form a single, large seminar-style table including or not including Rav Uzi's desk, are implemented on an ad hoc basis. On one occasion, the tables in the classroom remained in such a configuration from a holiday meal that had been held the previous day, and Rav Uzi opted to leave them that way. On another occasion, he sat at his desk and suggested that the students gather around him. What these instances, along with a few more that took place during my periods of observation, share in common is the small number of students in the classroom at the time of the seating. Rav Uzi would regularly begin class before the entire group had assembled. He would generally spend several minutes taking attendance and establishing which absences were excused and trying to determine the whereabouts of the other students.

Sometimes the boys would volunteer information, or Rav Uzi would send someone to roust the latecomers from the dormitory. Sometimes he would begin class, and students would continue to trickle in. A sample of student numbers from my field notes finds nine at the beginning of class growing to eighteen. Sometimes a late arrival would generate comment; more frequently it would not. It was rarely clear, between the excused absences and the students participating in remedial or accelerated groups convening during most but not all of the Talmud class time, how many students were supposed to be in the class on any given day. However, I frequently counted between fifteen and nineteen students by the end of a class period; numbers exceeding twenty were uncommon. Rav Uzi used a roster, but when I asked how many students should be in class, he needed to go down the list and determine which ones, at that particular moment in the school year, were in fact members of his

212 regular Talmud class. The number he gave at that time, during my third observation cycle (in January), was twenty-six. However, despite the ostensible participation of approximately twenty-six students, and the realistic anticipation of eighteen or so, the arrangements for seating around a large table would begin with six to eight students, and would accommodate only them. Then, as more students arrived, they would attach further tables as necessary. However, the configuration could not possibly accommodate the entire class. Thus, when Rav Uzi began class one day with a handful of students gathered around his desk, the maximum number of seats was eight. (See Figure 10) As students continued to arrive, they inserted more seats into the existing structure of tables. Ultimately, though, the arrangement could not accommodate all of the participants. The rest of the students sat in the usual arrangement of rows, behind the clustered seating, giving spatial expression to the idea of more-peripheral or less-peripheral participation within the community of practice.

Teacher’s Desk

Student desks

Figure 10: Alternative seating arrangement

Rav Uzi explicitly addressed the classroom seating arrangements on one occasion, when the tables were already pushed together. A student asked if he should rearrange the room into the usual rows, to which Rav Uzi replied, "Let’s sit like this," and the student responded, "Like this is good." Rav Uzi then launched into a lengthy description of his ideal classroom situation, framed by Rav Yosef's request that each teacher submit a wish list for the school's permanent campus.

213 First, he lists the three possibilities, which, as we have seen above, are in fact

represented in his current classroom architectonics:

1 One thing that I always dreamed of is that I would have three classrooms. 2 Really. One a clean circle. One nine in [unclear] and one ah…like a room…you 3 know in the university, there are seminar rooms that…ah…like, if you’re a 4 member, a participant in the seminar, so there’s some long table with, with, if 5 they do it well then they make it a little circular or at least so it come out in the 6 middle and goes back, so that everyone can see each other.

The first two options (line 2) are treated briefly. The circle is referred to as

"clean" or "neat" (naqi ); it is a plain circle of chairs with no tables or desks. I infer

from context that the second option, "nine in [unclear]," refers to the arrangement of

the desks into columns and rows. The third possibility, in which the students are

currently seated as Rav Uzi speaks, evokes the seminar room of the university

setting. 117 This description begins as a presentation of a type of room ("like a

room…you know in the university, there are seminar rooms that…ah…," line 3),

moves to the characterization of the students ("member," "participant," line 4), and

culminates with the table itself ("so there’s some long table with, with, if they do it

well then they make it a little circular or at least so it come out in the middle and goes

back," lines 4-6). The final phrase turns from the architectonic elements to the

semiotic elements: "so that everyone can see each other (line 6)." Rav Uzi develops

this idea, including in "everyone" both students and teacher:

7 And it’s more, like, you’re participating in something. You’re a member of a 8 discussion. Right? If I sit with you now, then we’re members of a discussion 9 and not like ah…and not like we ah…I’m a teacher and throw things to you 10 and…ah…it’s half a solution, like ( kazeh ).

The generalized "you" ("you're participating"/"you're a member," line 7-8)

rapidly turns to the constructed identities of those present: "If I [the teacher] sit with

117 The students likely do not have experience with the university setting, but it is a familiar one for Rav Uzi, who holds a PhD in a social science field and spent some time teaching at a university prior to (and simultaneous with) commencing his career as a high school teacher.

214 you [the students] now…(line 8)." Rav Uzi expresses a desire for everyone to be

"members of a discussion" rather than the hesitant alternative of "I’m a teacher and

throw things to you" (line 9), which appears to represent a transmissionist view of

schooling. The hedge "kazeh " (line 10) frames the notion that this seating

arrangement provides "half a solution" to a yet-unnamed problem. Elaborating, he

continues:

11 It doesn’t completely solve, what’s really, really lacking in this whole, in this 12 whole… in this whole…alienated situation. It really is an alienated situation, 13 that someone stands here and everyone like looks at him like, and, meaning, 14 related to, a little related to this also, the- the- the-, meaning there’s such a thing 15 as your eyes shall , meaning, your eyes shall see your teachers (Is. 30:20) like 16 you, sometimes someone talks to you, you look him in the eyes, you listen 17 better, you concentrate, you…it goes in both directions.

Rav Uzi refers to the standard frontal classroom as an "alienated situation"

(line 12) ( menukkar /"alienated" and not menakker /"alienating"). However, even as he

critiques a situation in which "someone stands here and everyone like looks at him"

(line 13), he finds value in the maintenance of visual focus upon the teacher, citing a

Biblical verse ("meaning there’s such a thing as your eyes shall , meaning, your eyes

shall see your teachers (Is. 30:20)," lines 14-45). Then, taking a functionalist

approach to this structure ("sometimes someone talks to you, you look him in the

eyes, you listen better, you concentrate," lines 16-17), he attempts to return some

social capital to the students by claiming that "it goes in both directions." Not only to

the students have a responsibility to look at the teacher, the teacher should make eye

contact with the individual students:

18 Meaning, it’s very, very, like for me, the learning is very important – one of the 19 ways that I try to grab someone’s attention or listening, of someone, I didn’t, I 20 didn’t have eye contact, so in class so I look him in the eyes, as if ( ke’ilu ) I’m 21 speaking to him so for how long can you do it, to talk to him for twenty-five 22 seconds is already, already a lot of time, a teacher opposite thirty students, and 23 nonetheless you look him in the eyes for twenty seconds, that’s already

215 24 something, you’re with him and he’s more with you so that’s, that’s also 25 something -

The "learning" (line 18), which may refer here to the process or to the result,

requires the "attention" and "listening" (line 19) of the students. The monologue has

taken a turn towards a defense of the standard classroom. If the teacher can make eye

contact with a particular student and "talk to him" (line 21), they create together the

reciprocal-sounding relationship of "you’re with him and he’s more with you" (line

24). Rav Uzi then offers a critique of the type of eye contact he has been advocating:

26 - but on the other hand, there’s the – the call of my Rebbe in fifth grade, which 27 is, "the gemara isn’t written on my face." Meaning, like, sometimes, like there’s 28 some…television program there and then it absolves you from doing something, 29 from participating, from…working to concentrate, it absolves you because after 30 all, you’re doing what you have to do. You’re looking in the direction of the 31 teacher. What else can he ask of you, after all you’re not playing games, you’re 32 not coloring. You’re looking at the teacher’s face.

Focus on the teacher absolves the student from active involvement in his

learning. The model of the "television program" (line 28), with the student as the

viewer, is implicitly contrasted with another model, as "the gemara " (line 27) is

introduced an additional subject and/or object within the classroom interaction. Rav

Uzi cites his fifth grade "Rebbe" (line 26), who demanded that his students look in the

text rather than at him ("the gemara isn’t written on my face," line 27). The gemara is

the object of focus, but also what makes the students "do something," "participat[e],"

and "work to concentrate" (lines 28-29). One may suggest that the students are meant

to focus upon and interact with the gemara , a shift from the same activities with the

teacher. "Doing what you have to do" (line 30) is not sufficient, as a student refrains

from "playing games" or "coloring" (lines 31, 32). The student as active participant in

the class is related to his engagement with the Talmudic text.

216 Rav Uzi concludes his remarks with the recognition that he has engaged in an

extended recitation by saying, "So here, it’s a perfect lecture." He has vocally

advocated active student learning, moving from an interaction model among students

and teacher around a seminar-style table to one in which students engage with the text

in a frontal classroom setting. The third classroom arrangement, the circle, has not

been addressed.

A student then inquires about the decision-making processes, which are in the

hands of the teacher: "Harav, how do you choose when to move all…" The student's

voice trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the sense of the question is clear.

The default option is a traditional classroom with rows of tables or desks facing the

teacher. A decision "to move," whether to a seminar table or to a circle, requires some

rationale. Rav Uzi responds:

33 It’s ah…according to ah…an intuitive feeling, what’s appropriate, sometimes 34 you know that…that you have to do this way today. Sometimes you need like 35 more for them to sit quietly, like good little boys (Yiddish tattelakh ), something 36 like that. Ah…and listen to something. Sometimes a clean circle, a clean circle 37 in my humble opinion isn’t so much for ah…for learning with content. It’s more 38 when you want to feel the workshoppy ( sadna’i ) side of the work. You want 39 everyone to participate, you don’t so much need to sit, to work on a text. When 40 you need to work on a text, so it’s better, let’s say uh, now we have the text in 41 front of us so we can do that.

There is no formula, just an ad hoc "intuitive feeling" (line 33). There are,

however, three distinct modes of learning that are represented via the seating

arrangements. A frontal classroom is conducive to unidirectional interaction, as the

students are to "sit quietly," "like good little boys"(line 35). The circle is appropriate

to "participat[ion]" (line 39) to a "workshoppy" (line 38) mode, but not conducive to

"work on a text" (line 39). The third mode is the way they are seated at the time of the

discussion, a seminar-style configuration, in which "now we have the text in front of

us so we can do that [work on a text]" (lines 40-41).

217 Presented in this manner, it would seem that the seminar-style style seating

configuration is ideal for this classroom. The stated, as well as enacted, goals, as we

shall see, correlate strongly with the description of people, teacher and students

together, participating in and contributing to textual study. This model extends the

community of practice, as enacted in the beit midrash , into the classroom, expanding

the havruta /paired learning into a haburah /group learning. Note, however, that it is

just one of three preferred seating arrangements; there are indeed times that Rav Uzi

"need[s]" (line 34) his students to sit "like good little boys" (line 35), as a frontal,

teacher-centered model is embraced alongside a more constructivist model.

In fact, the seminar table configuration is the least-practiced in Rav Uzi’s

classroom. The frontal classroom prevails for the vast majority of text-based Talmud

class, while seating in a circle is common for discussions involving personal

exploration and opinions that are decidedly not text-based.

7.2 The Whiteboard: Lecture and haburah

Rav Uzi addresses one limit of the seminar-style seating as an afterthought to

his monologue:

42 And…I forgot entirely about the place of the board. It’s a board ah…a place like 43 this where everyone is sitting around a table so the board already, already 44 complicates matters, like, you need the board, you want the board. So that’s, 45 that’s already, that’s already a difficulty.

The architectonic element that is sacrificed by this configuration is not the

centrality of the teacher but the centrality of the board, a problem which is,

incidentally, solved by the arrangement described above, in which the teacher’s desk

is part of the large table. What does the whiteboard represent in this Talmud class?

Rav Uzi uses the whiteboard during many but not all of his classes. He keeps

his markers in the teachers’ room, and sometimes either forgets to bring them to class

and sends a student to do so, or does not bring them because he does not anticipate

218 using them. In other words, he plans whether or not a given day’s lesson will include the use of the board. He is prone to little sketches – which appear on rare occasions on his handouts as well – to illustrate the topic at hand. For instance, when outlining the major points in favor of each position in the disagreement between Rava and Abbaye as to whether unconscious despair of finding a lost object constitutes despair, Rav Uzi represents each party as a stick figure with a cowboy hat and a weapon. When discussing the heating of food on the Sabbath, he draws a large pot with specified contents, location and temperature. He frequently uses charting and mapping methods to outline the major points, and these often involve student input. For example, he constructs a spectrum of possible identifying marks for lost objects as featured in the

Talmudic discussion, placing the items along the spectrum from greatest to least efficacy according to direct instructions from the students. At another time, he asks the students to articulate and organize the possible rationales and prohibitions regarding lying, as found in the texts they have prepared, and maps the ideas accordingly. On most occasions, however, it is Rav Uzi who determines the form of the whiteboard representation of the material, often through charts and the like but sometimes with scrawls and arrows and underlining that are woven into the classroom discussion and virtually unintelligible without it. The text itself is also featured on the board, as in the time that Rav Uzi affixed to the board with tape an enlarged photocopy of the Vilna edition of two Talmudic pages, and then color-coded the text by topic.

The dominant hand at the whiteboard is the teacher’s, though there are times that he places the markers in a student’s hand. The voices at the whiteboard, however, are varied. Many opinions, positions, and interpretations are recorded and organized according to their authors. These extend from the cited Talmudic authors to canonical

219 interpreters from the Medieval and Modern periods to the students themselves, whose opinions are also represented by name. Rav Uzi rarely appears, but he occasionally cites Rav Ilan, the Ram of the parallel twelfth grade class with whom he frequently discusses the material and shares ideas of both content and pedagogy.

The varied uses of the whiteboard in Rav Uzi’s classroom closely reflect two of three primary uses of the blackboard discussed by O’Hare (1993). These three uses include the use of the board as slides , in which the content is prepared in advance and posted by the speaker; as lecture notes , in which the speaker summarizes the presentation as it takes place; and discussion notes , which serve as the public record of a collaborative discussion. A literal pile of slides, or its contemporary analogy, a power point presentation, cues to the listener that there is a predetermined outcome to the learning activity. Even as the teacher may attempt to elicit some of the content from the students, the presentation will not change based upon student comments or questions. The effect is the same when the board is used as slides, either by posting

(or projecting) pages onto it or by writing the outline of the lesson on the board in advance of the class session. The use of the board in a lecture notes format signals that the contents are being constructed by the teacher, but that the course of the presentation is subject to change. As the outcome is not represented as pre- determined, a question or comment from a student can be incorporated into, and indeed alter, the direction that the class will take. Finally, in the discussion notes model, the teacher is not the author of the material on the board, but merely its designated recorder. The board serves as a record of a discussion in which the words of all of the participants are featured equally, and which may be referred back to, reflected upon, and altered as needed. Students may sometimes do their own writing,

220 or become the designated writer for the class, although the teacher frequently fills this role.

In Rav Uzi’s classroom, I did not observe the use of the board as a slide. When he did tack a page to the board, it was a Talmudic text which was to be marked up over the course of the class session. On several occasions, the board was turned into a slide, so to speak, following its creation over the course of the lesson, as Rav Uzi used the camera of his cellular phone to capture the image of the board that was brought into being over the course of the class discussion. The other two models, lecture notes and discussion notes, are frequently enacted in this classroom, and they may represent two modes of study, and two roles played by Rav Uzi. In one, he is the teacher, using the board as a tool to transmit and explain the material to his students. The board is the extension of the teacher, in semiotics typical of a teacher-centered classroom. In the second model, Rav Uzi’s role is to organize and record not only the classroom discussion, but in essence the ongoing Talmudic discussion. In the same way as the

Talmudic text itself is presented as a redacted recording of ongoing discussion, the history of interpretation up to and including the classroom discussion is recorded and redacted on the board. This model reflects the idealized community of practice represented through the architectonics of the seminar-style seating that is lauded but not often practiced in Rav Uzi’s classroom.

One final note about the enactment of the CoP through the haburah -style seating configuration is in order. Just as in the example cited above in which the class began with a few students seated around Rav Uzi’s desk, the lesson in which Rav Uzi spoke about his ideal classroom configurations begins with the teacher and eight students sitting around two student tables. Within a few minutes, three more students arrive and pull up chairs. Twenty-five minutes after Rav Uzi entered the room, there

221 are approximately fifteen students, and the class period concludes with about nineteen

students, all clumped around the same two tables whose maximum seating capacity is

perhaps a crowded twelve. There are therefore many students whose chairs are not

against the tables, and one or two who have chosen to sit at different tables off to the

side. Those who arrive on time, or who take the initiative in procuring satisfactory

seating arrangements, will find themselves at the center of the classroom activity.

Others will find themselves, quite literally, on the periphery.

Bearing this spatial metaphor in mind, we turn to the ways in which the

students construct their own participation, as well as the role of the teacher, in the

classroom setting.

7.3 Student participation: "What really changes everything is seder "

When it comes to the nature of the Talmud class, students attribute a high

level of impact to the practice of seder . Yishai describes his stance vis-à-vis the

teacher's classroom presentation:

1 What’s different here? That we learn ( lomedim ). Meaning, it isn’t some class 2 (shiur ). If, say, the Rav says something that doesn’t seem to me, then, then it 3 isn’t that he’s transmitting something to me that I have to accept. I can also not 4 accept what he accepts, especially since I learn it alone in seder .

For Yishai, the activity of "learn[ing]" (line 1) is antithetical to the traditional

"class" in which the teacher "transmit[s]" (line 3) knowledge to the students. The verb

l-m-d directly references the independent and process-oriented learning/ lernen of the

beit midrash , as in the yoshev lomed pair we have seen used to describe the beit

midrash activity (see p. 80ff.). The learning activity is manifested in the classroom

setting as the independence or autonomy of the individual student. The fact that

Yishai "learn[s] it alone in seder " allows him to "accept" or "not accept" Rav Uzi's

interpretation (line 4). The binary choice of "accept" or "not accept" reflects the

222 student as the recipient of knowledge that is proffered by the teacher alone. Yishai

then accounts for the voices of the students:

5 So many times it happens that people learn in seder , for instance, in my opinion 6 what really changes everything is seder . The fact that people like learn alone, 7 then after that when they come to class, there are a lot of times that they don’t 8 understand, they don’t understand the same thing, everyone understands 9 something different. And then ah…ah. And then like we arg-, it creates, a class 10 is created, like ( ke'ilu ).

Referring to the students as "people" (anashim ) (lines 5, 6), in a move

that emphasizes their learner identities over their student identities, 118 Yishai

reiterates the centrality of seder before describing the classroom activity. When

students "don't understand" (lines 7-8), the object is not the material itself, or a

single correct understanding of the material, but "the same thing" as their

classmates. "A class is created" (a phrase followed by the focus marker ke'ilu ,

line 10) out of the different understandings with which the students arrive, the

different knowledge which they have constructed separately in seder . Yishai

struggles, however, to describe this process; first he hesitates ("And then

ah…ah," line 9), and then he begins the sentence but alters its structure before

completing the word that seems to be "argue" (line 9). The subject of the

sentence switches from "we" (the students) to "it" (the learning that has taken

place until this point; the fact of the different understandings) to "a class." The

class is woven from the threads that the students bring with them. Yishai

abandons the language of argument in favor of a process-oriented and

constructive (and in this instance, perhaps constructivist as well) description of

the classroom activity. He then reintroduces the role of the Ram, who

"sometimes explains" (line 11):

118 Or: their discourse-identities over their institution-identities (cf. Gee 2000-2001)

223 11 Sometimes the Ram explains and sometimes this, but even when the Rav 12 explains then sometimes, hey, I didn’t understand like that, it’s possible to 13 understand it like this. Someone says, it’s possible to understand it like this. 14 Meaning, because each one learned in seder something else, so ah…so in class a 15 situation is created where…where there’s like ( ke'ilu ) something that happens 16 and…it isn’t that the Rav sits and talks like in a lecture or something and 17 everyone falls asleep.

Rav Uzi may or may not "explain" and in other unspecified ways set the

structure and/or content of the class ("and sometimes this," line 11). When he does

not, the result is the student-driven classroom that Yishai describes in lines 7-10.

"Even" (line 11) when he does, though, Yishai adopts student voices that interrupt and

disagree ("I didn’t understand like that, it’s possible to understand it like this," lines

12-13), and then narrates the same point ("Someone says, it’s possible to understand it

like this," line 13). He then falters as he attempts to describe what happens, reverting

again to the passive voice ("a situation is created," line 15), using a hedge ("ke'ilu ") to

mark a vague statement ("where there’s like ( ke'ilu ) something that happens," line

15), trailing off and pausing twice, and ultimately offering a negative statement, his

picture of a different sort of class ("it isn’t that the Rav sits and talks like in a lecture

or something and everyone falls asleep," lines 16-17). Without multiple voices co-

constructing the knowledge, and the class session, the result would be a "lecture" and

the recourse for "everyone," the students, would be to "fall asleep."

Yishai's description of the shiur hinges upon active student involvement in the

learning, independently in seder and continuing through what he almost calls

"argument" in the classroom. The teacher may or may not "explain," but will never

"transmit," as the student decides what to "accept."

7.4 Role of the teacher: "There are all different types of shiurim "

Amihai offers a view from which a similar picture emerges, but attributes a

greater role to the teacher:

224 1 No…It depends. Because ah…I don’t know. Sometimes when, when we learn 2 something, in seder or what we learn afterwards in shiur , so a lot of times the 3 shiur also takes on like what came up in seder . Among all the guys. Like ( ke'ilu ) 4 Rav Uzi, he writes on the board the theories that came up or…and then you see 5 like what the other havrutot talked about it. And then and then we develop it. 6 We try to understand then what it is, in , in a way that’s more like, a perspective 7 about what it says, what, which theories it’s possible to extract from it.

Beginning with hesitant, vague and non-committal statements to describe the

relationship between seder and shiur in response to a follow-up question during the

interview ("No…It depends. Because ah…I don’t know," line 1), Amihai uses the

verb "learn" (lines 1, 2) to describe the activity in both arenas. Like Yishai, he

switches to "the shiur " as the subject of his next clause: "so a lot of times the shiur

also takes on like what came up in seder " (lines 2-3). Just as Yishai refers to the

students as "people," Amihai uses "the guys/ hahevreh " (line 3), referring to the

students as co-members of the community of practice with a term that excludes the

teacher. He moves to the teacher's role using the self-rephrasal ke'ilu (line 3) to

explicate the notion that "the shiur also takes on" its content from the students' seder

activities. Rav Uzi, whom Amihai introduces proleptically and then reintroduces with

the pronoun "he," emphasizing the teacher as the subject of the sentence, "writes on

the board the theories that came up (line 4)," so that the students are exposed to the

seder activities of their peers. This ordering role enables the entire class, referred to as

"we" and possibly including the teacher as well, to "develop it" (line 5). More than

pooling their collective knowledge and understanding, the group builds upon it to

develop a "perspective" (line 6) and identify "which theories it’s possible to extract

from it (line 7)."

The demonstrative pronoun "it/ zeh " appears five times with no clear referent

(lines 5-7). Since "havrutot talked about it (line 5)" and the class addresses "what it

says (line 7)," one may surmise that "it" is the text, the object of study. The Talmud is

225 something to "talk about" and then "develop," to "understand" through "perspective"

and ultimately something from which one may "extract" "theories." The students

arrive in class with "theories" (line 4) that are then refined and tested alongside those

of their peers and against the Talmudic text. The group as a whole undertakes these

activities, based upon the individual study in seder which is prerequisite to them.

Amihai continues his description with two caveats that limit the application of

this model of shiur . The first relates to the degree to which the students have

accomplished enough in seder to allow it to take place:

8 And sometimes it’s like a more technical shiur about what, what we learned. 9 Like, no, it depends, it seems to me, mostly whether the guys ah…Rav Uzi like 10 sees if the guys are inside the material, then he’ll take it straight onwards. And if 11 not, then he’ll try to explain what went on. Things like that.

A shiur that is about "what [the students] learned" in seder is considered

"technical" (line 8). This is in some way different from the substance of the shiur

described above, which "take[s] it straight onwards (line 10)," a role ascribed here to

Rav Uzi. The need for this "technical shiur " is created when "the guys" are not "inside

the material (line 10)," so Rav Uzi has to "explain what went on (line 11)." Shiur is

ideally more than merely a review of what the students learned in seder , but the latter

is sometimes necessary. In this manner, the nature of the enactment of the CoP in the

classroom setting depends upon that of the beit midrash . When the novices achieve

less-peripheral participation in seder , placing themselves "inside" the community by

placing themselves "inside the material," they achieve legitimate peripheral

participation in the classroom setting as well. However, when their seder activity falls

short, and the teacher is the judge of when this is the case ("Rav Uzi like sees if the

guys are inside the material," lines 9-10), Rav Uzi enacts his teacher identity more

than his expert identity.

Amihai's second caveat relates to the nature of the text itself:

226 12 It also depends like on the type of material. Like, more what we did today. So it 13 didn’t so much impact on the sugya . We saw all kind of positions, so it’s 14 impossible to do through philosophizing. Like it’s bottom line. It’s details. And, 15 there are all different types of shiurim .

"Philosophizing (line 14)," or the development of "theories (line 7)," falls

aside when the material is "bottom line/details (line 14)." Amihai's interview took

place following a seder in which the students read a page that Rav Uzi distributed,

and then organized the material on the board in shiur . The page featured photocopied

segments from several works of Aharonim , commentaries and halakhic texts from the

modern era. Their selection was topical, not textual. The topic, the sources and limits

of the prohibition against lying, emerged tangentially from the Talmudic text that the

students have been studying sequentially.119 The sources on the page were not

commentaries on the Talmudic text per se, and were not directly related to the text at

hand. Rather, Rav Uzi decided to expand on the topic, a move with which several

students expressed dissatisfaction, including Tsuriel, who described the choice as

"strange" and the topic, "marginal." The students had no direct textual context for the

sources, which dealt with issues such as the reasons for the prohibition and the

circumstances in which the entire truth need not be told. On the whiteboard during

class, Rav Uzi constructed, with the input of the students, a schematic map of the

opinions and the relationships among them. This decontextualized content-mapping

is what Amihai reflects upon when he says that "what we did today…didn’t so much

impact on the sugya (lines 12-13)." He concludes that "there are all different types of

shiurim (line 15)," in the same way as Rav Uzi identifies variation in the classroom

seating arrangements which is dependent upon the nature of the particular lesson.

Amihai's description of the classroom activity represents a particular

understanding of the role of the Talmud learner and the nature of his interaction with

227 the text. In Amihai's view, the text is the basis from which theories emerge, but these theories, which cannot contradict the text, are also not inherent to it. A basic understanding of the text is prerequisite to this activity, but the former is "technical" while the latter entails "philosophizing." Preparing for shiur includes both understanding the text and beginning the process of integrating or conceptualizing the material. This view of the endeavor evokes the conceptual-analytical method of study founded in the nineteenth century by R. Hayyim Soloveitchik of Brisk at the Volozhin

Yeshivah in Lithiuania and known as the "Brisker method" (Saiman 2005/2006). The

Brisker method, which favors analytical over normative modes of study and values

Talmud above all else, informs much of the Talmud study that takes place today in the contemporary Yeshivah (Rosensweig 2005). The particulars of the method place the learner at the center of the study, as it is the learner who creatively adduces general principles and theoretical constructs that account for but go beyond the details in the text. At the same time, as Rav Uzi describes:

1 …let’s say, a Lithuanian won’t look for this, or doesn’t seek the 2 world in the gemara , the world is the gemara . You have to change 3 the world to the language of the gemara , meaning, the world doesn’t 4 interest him.

Over the course of the interview, Rav Uzi describes himself as having applied in the past the Brisker method and other related approaches that he categorizes in the above citation as "Lithuanian (line 1)." However, his approach to Talmud study, and to teaching, has changed over the past decade or so. He speaks of a direct confrontation with the text, bringing oneself and one’s perspective to the study, and looking at the Talmud through the lens of the world and not only the world through the lens of the Talmud, as he critiques the Lithuanian methods for doing (lines 2-3).

119 BT Baba Metsi`a 23b-24a: "For R. Judah said in the name of Samuel: In the following three matters learned men do conceal the truth: In matters of a tractate, bed, hospitality."

228 The result of this shift is an eclectic style in which commentaries of all eras are cited, and there is no set analytical method or pattern. Some of the students expressed frustration with this way of learning, evidenced by Tsuriel’s comments about the lesson on lying, preferring either the substance or the consistency of identifiable methodologies. 120

Amihai, as observed in the classroom setting, has an affinity for conceptual analysis. He attempts on many occasions to adduce a broader principle or unifying theme to the law at hand, utilizing terminology and conceptual models associated with the Brisker method. It is therefore not a great surprise that he casts the learning endeavor in this image. The need for "all different types of shiurim " is related to the novice status of the learners and to the teacher’s choice of materials. When, however, the corpus is the Talmud and the learners are adequately prepared, the shiur should be, and according to his statements, is, an exercise in theorizing, as individuals and as a group, about the broader meaning behind the text. The Brisker method depends upon the details of the text to yield the theoretical construct, but it does not require vast amounts of knowledge to implement. Any student, through legitimate peripheral participation, is able to apply the methodology and make his voice heard in shiur .

The lesson on lying, however, is not open to this level of participation. The teacher has selected and decontextualized an eclectic group of texts, and the students are bound to the information that is presented before them. They can assist in its organization, referred to by Amihai as "technical" and "details," but there is no space for "philosophizing," or conceptualizing.

120 When discussing their earlier years at Darkhei Noam, students frequently labeled one teacher as a disciple of the Rav Kook school and another as a product of "the Gush" (Yeshivat Har Etzion), and similarly categorized their learning experiences, to cite Matan as but one among many examples, in

229 7.5 Non-participation: "In class it’s very limiting"

Eliyah frames his discussion of seder , in which he emphasizes the

involvement of the individual learner with the "questions" that he finds or "reveals" in

or about the text, with statements of limited involvement and lack of interest in shiur .

He opens by saying that:

1 It’s possible to, to take a stance even if you don’t participate in class. A stance. 2 Like if I, if I hear some, some discussion and i- if I think otherwise, I’m not sure 3 that I’ll say what I think. But, and, I- I’ll develop it maybe alone, but 4 ah…sometimes if it really bothers me then I will participate.

Although he uses the term "discussion" (line 2), Eliyah talks about taking a

"stance" (line 1), which implies that that the activity entails disagreement among

various positions. Many students refer to the classroom discourse as "discussion" or

as "argument."

Xenia Hadjioannou (2003: 3) has formulated three criteria for "authentic

classroom discussions":

…interactions where participants (a) have opportunities to invite and consider multiple ideas and perspectives, (b) where a wide array of participants present multiple ideas and perspectives, and (c) where the students’ and teacher’s contributions often build on ideas expressed by other participants in previous turns.

Eliyah’s description of Rav Uzi’s class suggests that the first criterion is met.

The premise behind taking a "stance" is that there are "multiple ideas and

perspectives" to consider. This characteristic is in some ways embedded in Talmudic

discussion, as both the text of the Talmud and the history of interpretation feature

multiple opinions and possibilities. However, the reference here is to classroom

discussion. While there may be disagreement between, for instance, Rashi and

Tosafot, about how to understand a particular line of the text, it is not clear whether

terms of approach ("to understand what the Amora wants and what the Tanna wants") or corpus ("and there we dealt a lot with Rishonim and Aharonim ").

230 one student’s support of Tosafot’s position and another’s support of Rashi’s qualify as "invit[ing]" multiple perspectives. It may be that only when the discussion revolves around how to understand or evaluate Tosafot’s interpretation, or how this interpretation impacts upon a constructed meaning of the concepts in the text, are multiple perspectives truly introduced. It may also be that the very fact of the presentation of multiple interpretive possibilities satisfies this criterion, in which case just about any Talmud class would qualify.

The second criterion, the presentation of these multiple ideas by "a wide array of participants," strengthens the question raised above. If the students are not only to

"consider" but also to "present" these ideas, is it sufficient for them to present the ideas, or textual readings, of others, or must they present their own? Does it make a difference whether a particular commentary was assigned by the teacher and prepared by the entire class? For instance, one student, troubled by or interested in something in the text that is not addressed by the assigned Tosafot, or unsatisfied by the interpretation offered by Tosafot, may independently consult another commentary, for instance Rashba, and may find that reading to be more satisfactory. When he presents

Rashba’s reading in class, is he engaging in more "authentic" discussion than the student who recites in class the interpretation found in the assigned Tosafot? In other words, for a student to present an idea, does he need to have independently found or thought of this idea, or is it sufficient in the interactional sense for him to offer the idea in the group setting?

The second aspect of this criterion, that a "wide array" of the students present ideas, is referenced in Eliyah’s description of his own participation, or lack thereof.

He maintains that one can "take a stance even if you don’t participate in class (line

1)." Engagement in the lernen activity is not contingent upon contribution to

231 classroom discussion. Eliyah will "develop it maybe alone" (line 3), even as he is

present in the classroom. He will participate "sometimes if it really bothers [him] (line

4)." The classroom discussion has the potential to impact upon ("bother") him, but he

generally chooses not to impact directly upon it. The shiur exists outside of himself;

he is not needed, in his view, in order to enact it. Eliyah is the student who is most

explicit on this point, and it is worthwhile to bear in mind that he is the student who

has chosen to learn alone, without a havruta , and steps in and out of usual interaction

with his peers and environment. However, my classroom observations have raised the

question of how wide an array of students are indeed generating the classroom

discussion. Is there a strong core group, the most engaged participants, who actually

construct the discussion or the shiur itself? What is the role of the more peripheral

participants, and in what ways does the shiur support or restrict their movement

towards greater participation in the community of practice? These questions are

important to keep in mind as we consider the students’ descriptions of the shiur .

When it comes to Hadjioannou’s third criterion, which may be reformulated to

suggest that the conclusions and/or direction of the lesson are not foregone but take

into account the ideas of the participants, several students draw the opposite picture.

For all of the dialogic ("discussion") or dialectic ("argument") characteristics of the

shiur , there are two limiting factors in the context of Rav Uzi's Talmud class. One is

articulated by Eliyah, who, as we have seen, would rather not participate in the

classroom discussion. His description of the class, following a description of seder ,

resumes:

5 In general, like ( ke’ilu) in class it’s very limiting because, because you have like 6 (ke’ilu ) a Ram who tells you what to do. You have a page, things like that. 7 Because of this I’m less- like ( ke’ilu ), that’s one of the reasons that I connect to 8 it less like ( ke’ilu ) because I can’t create the learning. It’s all like ( ke’ilu ) set for 9 me and…ah…like ( ke’ilu ) they already decided for me what, what will happen

232 10 here. So there isn’t like ( ke’ilu ) a lot of room to…to change. I don’t know. It’s 11 like ( ke’ilu ) what I like less.

In this segment, rife with the discourse-marker "ke’ilu ," used in self-rephrasal

(line 7) and as a focus-marker (line 11) but primarily as a hedge, Eliyah identifies the

presence and role of the Ram as a "limiting" factor in the classroom (lines 5-6).

Struggling and hedging as he expands upon this position, he identifies the "page" as

an example of "things like that" through which the Ram "tells you what to do" (line

6). The same page is featured in seder , yet Eliyah feels its impact more in shiur . As

we have seen, the students are not bound during seder by the pages that Rav Uzi

distributes. However, in the classroom setting, those pages and other pre-determined

content "set" (line 8) the agenda of the community. The framing (Bernstein 2003:

248) of the learning in the classroom is much stronger than in the beit midrash , and

Eliyah therefore does not "connect to" (line 7) or "like" (line 11) it. For him, the

optimal learning/ lernen setting is one in which he is able to "create the learning (line

8)," and the classroom, unlike the beit midrash , does not meet this criterion. The

learning, as expressed by Eliyah, is meant to be a dynamic process in which things

"happen" (line 9) and can "change" (line 10). Moving from the Ram (line 6) to a

generalized "they" (line 9), which seems to indicate "others" in the sense of anyone

other than himself, and possibly reflects the notion of institutional roles and authority,

Eliyah constructs an individuated identity which is separate from the community and

constricted by it ("they already decided for me," line 9).

Eliyah’s objections to the nature of the Talmud class are rooted in the

Discourse of school, and the attendant questions of enacted identities and power

relations in the classroom. He enjoys the level of autonomy, or individual identity-

construction, that he experiences in the beit midrash , and finds the teacher-determined

agenda of the classroom setting limiting and not to his liking. Two other students

233 describe and evaluate their classroom experiences through the lens of the Discourse of

Talmud.

Elnatan, cited earlier as saying, "Most of the work, we do in seder ," says that

he is tired by "the end of the day" (talking about a shiur that begins before noon!),

"participate[s] in shiur but not too much," and is "weaker in shiur" than in seder .

Then, describing the classroom activity, he offers:

1 Ah…what happens? I don’t know. We summarize. Ah…we actually raise new 2 theories, sometimes. There are interesting arguments. But ah…in all, we learn 3 less ah…the shiur for me is less the…

Elnatan reports unenthusiastically that "we summarize (line 1)." After a pause,

with a rise in tone and the addition of "actually" to indicate the contrast between what

he is about to say and what he has just said, he asserts that "we actually raise new

theories, sometimes (lines 1-2)." He seems to view this in a positive light, along with

the "interesting arguments (line 2)." The final sentence (lines 2-3) begins with "but,"

includes two pauses ("ah…"), and ultimately trails off ("the shiur for me is less

the…").

For him, the innovation ("new theories") and interaction ("interesting

arguments") that are only "sometimes" featured in the shiur are fundamental to the

Talmud endeavor, while "summariz[ing]" is not. Elnatan begins his utterance

following "but," negating that which came before it, with "we learn less." Nothing

about the sense of his utterance, though, suggests that the problem is, for instance, that

less material is covered. Forced to rephrase, he offers "the shiur for me is less the…,"

yet is unable to say what is "less" about shiur . Perhaps he trails off because he has

said what he means: within the Talmud endeavor, shiur is just less. Less to-be-

considered-Talmud. Not less good, or less fun, or less productive, or less interesting.

Just less.

234 7.6 Interpretive tradition: "He doesn’t agree with Rashi"

Avidan also offers a negative assessment of the Talmud classroom experience.

He constructs the Discourse of Talmud in a way that is diametrically opposed to

Elnatan's statements:

1 Lots of times I think that they’re wasting sometimes in- time on an argument 2 about things that aren’t crucial at all, and not substantive. And a lot of times I 3 can’t understand how whoever is saying his opinion could think that way, like it 4 just can’t be. It isn’t – li- he insists that it’s right. And that…he doesn’t agree 5 with Rashi or some oth- any other interpreter so…it’s a little difficult for me to 6 accept that.

For Avidan, the very process that Elnatan characterizes as a defining feature of

Talmud study, the ongoing creative activity that Avidan terms "argument[s] (line 1)"

and "opinion[s] (line 3)," constitutes "wasting…time (line 1)." In order to be a

valuable part of the Talmud endeavor, the arguments must be about "things" that are

"crucial" and "substantive" (line 2). At first, the criteria for what constitutes a

"substantive" point, or a valid "opinion" (line 3), are constructed as residing within the

learner, ascribing to him a high level of epistemic authority. Avidan assesses whether

or not his classmate's opinion "can…be (line 4)." At the same time, he posits the

existence of a static, unchanging, and correct meaning, as he later offers: "I don't like

to argue. Just, I'm really – you have your opinion, I have my opinion. [If] you want,

I'm prepared to explain it [my opinion] to you." Does this refusal to engage in the

dialogic aspects of Talmud learning posit multiple truths, each to be held by an

individual without regard for the community? The final sentence of the above quote

(lines 4-6) suggests otherwise: "And that…he doesn’t agree with Rashi or some oth-

any other interpreter so…it’s a little difficult for me to accept that." This appears to be

a move towards the location of knowledge in the text, or the notion that there is a

single meaning that is to be uncovered by the learner and that resides in the text. The

235 interaction between the learner and the text entails only the learner's efforts to uncover that meaning.

The picture is complicated, however, by the situation that Avidan posits. He does not reject an interpretation because it runs counter to what he believes the text to say, but because it runs counter to what an interpreter of the text, in this case Rashi

("or…any other interpreter"), says. The interpretive role is thus removed from the learner entirely, and located…where? Is the interpretive tradition part of an ongoing interpretive discussion, in which the contemporary learner may or may not be a participant, or is it canonized as authoritative? Does the interpretation mediate between the learner and the text, or is it part of the text itself?

The Talmudic text (re-)presents multiple opinions, and on many occasions does not reconcile among them. The traditional commentaries offer a further plethora of interpretive options. For instance, a disagreement between Rashi and Tosafot is commonplace. The tradition of Talmud study does not support the notion of a single authoritative interpretation. Rather, there is a canon of traditional interpreters. This is not a formalized canon, in the sense of Scripture or of the Talmudic text itself. The tradition of interpretation, however, has attained a socially-constructed canonical status. Regarding the inclusion of particular texts and commentaries, consensus is greater when it comes to Rishonim / Medieval interpreters than to Aharonim / interpreters from the Early Modern period and onwards. 121

121 A window into this process of canonization, impacting not only upon interpretation but also upon decisions regarding halakhah / normative legal practice, is found in the writings of Rabbi A. Y. Karelitz (1878-1953), the leader of ultra-Orthodox Jewry (and opponent of the Brisker method of learning) known as the Hazon Ish: Authoritative halakhah is based only on the sources that went through the living chain of tradition, generation after generation, precisely in the way they were understood and read, passing the most scrupulous scrutiny of rabbinic deliberation and verification. (Cited in translation in Leiman 1981: 304) In this iteration, the socially-constructed canon, comprising the "living chain of tradition," includes not only the texts but also their interpretation ("precisely in the way they were understood and

236 Avidan’s rejection of an interpretation that "doesn’t agree with Rashi (lines 4-

5)" is rooted in recognition of Rashi’s canonical status. When the classmate offers an opposing interpretation, it is unlikely in Avidan’s scenario that he favors Tosafot instead. Rather, the classmate disagrees with Rashi without being in agreement with another member of the interpretive canon. Thus, Avidan's construction of the

Discourse of Talmud goes beyond the text-learner axis to approach the role of the history of interpretation. Avidan's position seems to be that a learner, a member of, or in this case, a peripheral participant in, the CoP cannot argue with a particular body of interpretation. This approach is reminiscent of the Mennonite tradition of Bible education, in which "the curriculum conforms to the community's interpretation of the

King James version of the Bible (Waite & Crockett 1997: 118)." There is a text, the

King James Bible, and there is a single valid or authoritative interpretation of that text. In the case of Talmud study, the "community's interpretation" includes multiple

read"). Furthermore, it is "rabbinic deliberation and verification" that confers this canonical status. This is an authority-based vision of linked textual and hermeneutical transmission. Leiman, based upon other evidence from the writings of Hazon Ish, opposes an entirely literal reading of this passage. He illustrates the untenability of such a reading: This striking formulation cannot be squared with Hazon Ish’s published writings. If taken literally, it would mean that all medieval authorities, such as R. Menachem Meiri (d. 1316), whose writings and teachings for the most part were unknown for centuries, only to be rediscovered and published in the 19 th and 20 th centuries, are not authoritative for halakhah. (loc. cit.) The case of Meiri is striking because Leiman suggests that an interpreter may be part of a canon that is historically but not transmissionally constructed. Leiman goes on to demonstrate that Meiri’s writings and rulings have indeed been brought into the canon (and that this is evidenced in the writings of Hazon Ish), even though they were for centuries not part of the "living chain of tradition." Who, then, determines which texts are part of the interpretive canon, and what is then the status of those interpretive texts? In the illustrative example of the acceptance of Meiri into this canon, there seem to be two factors at work. One is doubtless the milieu from which the text [is believed to have] emerged; a Provençal Rishon may by definition achieve canonical status. The second, however, is the recognition of that status by subsequent authorities/interpreters. The use of and reliance upon a particular interpreter legitimizes and is legitimized by such use. Haym Soloveitchik (1994: 120-121, note 54) describes this recognition work as rooted in the intersection between characteristics of Meiri’s commentary and characteristics of the society which revived it. Challenging the view that the commentary in its entirety was heretofore unknown, he attributes its revival to linguistic ("the remarkably modern syntax of Meiri's Hebrew prose") and stylistic ("the closest thing to a secondary source in the library of rishonim ") features that made it palatable to the contemporary learner. According to this analysis, the recognition work that assesses a work’s canonical status is undertaken not via Hazon Ish’s "rabbinic deliberation and verification," but via use and study within and across the CoP.

237 voices, but the principle is the same: there is a text held to be authoritative by the community, and this text may only be understood using interpretations also deemed authoritative by the community. While this view exposes the question of multiple and sometimes contradictory truths, as opposed to one truth, it nonetheless positions that truth as residing in the text and as known to and transmitted by a select group of interpreters of that text.

Avidan may, however, construct the interpretive tradition in a slightly different way. As we have seen, the canonical status of any given commentary is socially constructed. We have also observed that texts from different historical periods become incorporated into that canon, while maintaining communal awareness of historical stratification.122 This ongoing process is subject to the co-existing yet conflicting phenomena that Moshe Halbertal (1997: 32-33) discusses in the context of the Scriptural canon:

Canonizing a text results in increased flexibility in its interpretation, such as the use of complex hermeneutical devices of accommodation to yield the best possible reading. This phenomenon conflicts with the restrictive impulse of canonization itself, an act which creates boundaries and in many cases censors other texts and prevents them from becoming canonical.

"Increased flexibility" in the context of Talmudic interpretation theoretically spawns the "arguments" and "new theories" that Elnatan celebrates, allowing the students to "create the learning," a process that Eliyah enjoys in seder and finds lacking in shiur . We shall explore how these activities are constructed within Rav

Uzi’s classroom. Avidan’s construction of the Discourse of Talmud apparently draws upon the "restrictive impulse," with existing canonical interpretations precluding any other interpretation. This view also, as we shall see, is played out in Rav Uzi’s classroom.

122 e.g. the identification of Rishonim – "the first ones" – and Aharonim – "the later/last ones"

238 However, we have noted that the canonization of Talmudic interpretation, different from the canonization of Scripture or Talmud, is an ongoing and fluid process. While the former are still subject to recognition, and while different denominational groups in fact maintain different Scriptural canons, there is no formal canonization, or closing of a canon, when it comes to commentaries on the Talmud.

Rather, the corpus has continuously grown, building upon itself. There are certain principles that govern the growth of the corpus within any given historical stratum, and some of these are practiced within the Talmudic text itself. The role of the Amora is in a sense interpretive in relation to the Mishnah and other Tannaitic literature.

However, a fair amount of ink is spilled in attempts to preserve the distinctions between the strata. An Amora may not express a position that openly contradicts a

Tannaitic position. Therefore, if an Amoraic statement contradicts a Mishnah, a frequent move is to demonstrate that there is another Tannaitic statement in agreement with the apparently renegade Amora. In a similar vein, there are several terms whose purpose is to indicate that a disagreement between Amoraim actually reflects, or echoes, an earlier disagreement among Tannaim. 123 Thus an Amora innovates through interpretation, but cannot overturn a Mishnah. This stance continues among post-

Talmudic commentators, from the Gaonic period (circa 800-1000), which produced responsa literature more than direct commentary but which nonetheless features

Talmudic interpretation; through Rishonim , a period which saw the innovation of the line-by-line commentary by Rashi, the critico-conceptual dialectic of Tosafot, and treatises arranged textually and sometimes topically; to Aharonim , a period beginning anywhere from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century and continuing perhaps until

123 e.g. tanai hi, ketanai, leima ketanai

239 the nineteenth-century Industrial Revolution. 124 An Aharon will not disagree wholesale with the entire corpus of Rishonim . He may innovate in terms of how to read the Rishon , innovating textually or conceptually as found in the Pilpul movement and in the Brisker method. However, he will not advance an independent interpretation – and certainly not one with ramifications for normative practice - of the Talmudic text that is completely unmediated by his predecessors. While there is room for a modicum of creativity, and indeed the body of literature produced is vast and varied, the later commentator is beholden to the work of the earlier commentator, if only in the sense that he cannot discount the earlier period and its canonical status within the generative process of interpretation. This very process, in the manner in which it builds upon itself, embodies the combination of "increased flexibility" and

"restrictive impulse" with which Halbertal characterizes various trends in Biblical interpretation.

Avidan, then, may be viewed as an individual learner who is bound to the authority of the tradition and powerless to innovate or to create. However, he may also be viewed as a member of a CoP in which each learner is himself an interpreter, and is bound by the same principles as any other learner/interpreter. For this learning legacy, the activities of innovation and creation are themselves connected to the earlier bodies of literature, as part of an ever-expanding hermeneutical process in which later interpreters are free to join the canon. Avidan is then potentially a full participant in the creation of this canon, provided that he respects the process whereby this body is created.

We have seen the ways in which the students construct their Talmud classroom experience in the interview data. Yishai, Amihai, and Avidan describe a

124 There is no clear cut-off, nor is there consensus regarding the status of commentators and halakhic

240 classroom community of practice that is directly supported by, and is perhaps a continuation of, that of the beit midrash ; the students’ independence and creativity, or participation, in the classroom is facilitated by their independent study in the beit midrash . While Yishai and Amihai celebrate this aspect, Avidan laments it, as it conflicts with his notion of what it means to be a student, what it means to be a

Talmud learner, or both. Amihai allows for situations, rooted in both the quality of the students’ preparation (or: the extent of their legitimate participation in the beit midrash CoP) and in the nature of the material itself, in which the teacher takes greater control over the social capital. Eliyah and Elnatan, on the other hand, find the classroom community of practice to be constricting and limiting, in contrast to the beit midrash . However, the common threads among these interviews echo, build upon, and add to the issues that we have identified within the beit midrash data. The issues of epistemology and epistemic authority emerge and interact. Rav Uzi’s students express beliefs about their identities as students and as learners, and about the activity of Talmud study. Let us explore how these issues are constructed within the classroom.

arbiters from the twentieth century and onwards.

241 Chapter 8: The Class Session: Discursive practices

and construction of Discourse(s)

I have elected to present analysis of one class session 125 in its entirety, rather than offering disconnected examples of various phenomena. The classroom session I have selected for extended analysis corresponds to the havruta session that we have seen in Chapter 6. This selection is intended to lend clarity and coherence for the reader, who is by now familiar with the Talmudic text under discussion. It also provides a representative class manifesting many of the features and patterns typical of Rav Uzi’s classroom. Using this class session as a framework, I will provide other examples as needed.

Taking place on a Wednesday morning in November, this class is the group's second meeting of the day. They have convened in the classroom from 9:00 to 10:20, and then spent a little over an hour in the beit midrash . They began returning to the classroom at 11:40, for the shiur based upon what they have prepared in seder . Rav

Uzi announced at the beginning of the morning that in addition to the two Talmud class sessions, there would be a class devoted to something related to prayer, to take place from 12:15 to 13:00, when the lunch break begins. The morning bloc has thus been subdivided into four segments on this particular day, and, having analyzed

Aharon and Gavriel's activity during the second segment, we follow the group back to the classroom for the second class and third activity of their Talmud morning.

The transcript of the class session recording, forty-one minutes in duration, features 346 speaking turns, 127 taken by the teacher and 219 by students. Of the student speaking turns, forty take place among students prior to the teacher's arrival in the room, meaning that once Rav Uzi appears, there are 306 turns, 179, or roughly

125 The full transcript of the session (in English translation) is provided in Appendix D.

242 58% of which are student turns, with the rest belonging to the teacher. In a traditional classroom, two-thirds of talk is the teacher's (Cazden 2001:51). In this class session, the percentage of student turns is relatively high.126 Of the approximately twenty students present in the classroom, thirteen can be identified as having spoken during the class. Three students each have twenty or more speaking turns, while there are five with fewer than ten turns. The mean number of speaking turns per speaking student, again discounting the turns prior to Rav Uzi's arrival, is thirteen, with a median of twelve.

8.1 Students in the Classroom: Havruta to Haburah

The recording begins at 11:50 AM, with a handful of students in the classroom, some of them discussing among themselves the text that they have just prepared. Two students debate the need for despair in the scenarios of an Israelite majority and a Canaanite majority, in a series of turns that could easily have taken place in the beit midrash :

1. Student 1: It's not connected. It's a que stion where the majority are Canaanites, why you need despair. 2. Student 2: Yeah. 3. Student 1: But why with an Israelite majority do you also need despair? I don't know why you need despair. Why do you need despair in this case at all? Like if you need despair, then why does despair help, because we don't know, because it could be unconscious despair. 4. Student 2: Right. 5. Student 1: And if and if not, why do you need despair?

Student 1 questions the relationship between the dispositional aspects of the situation, the despair of the person whose object is lost, and the circumstantial aspects, the location in which the object was found. Student 2 interjects "yeah" (2) and "right"

(4), recognizing his partner's continued speaking rights. This dyadic interaction is

126 By word count, however, the teacher's voice dominates, at 74%, largely owing to some lengthy

243 expanded with the introduction of multiple speakers, as other students participate spontaneously. In line 6, Student 3 interjects, "Also according to Israelite," but

Students 1 and 2 do not acknowledge or respond to his comment. Several turns later, though, the discussion is opened to include more participants:

10. Student 2: Nu, so why do you need despair where the majority are Canaanites? 11. Student 12: Why do you need despair at all? It doesn't matter. Why do they [unclear] that the owner despairs? 12. Student 3: But it's talking about a Canaanite majority. That's what you're asking 13. Student: (background) Is there class now? 14. Student 1: What? 15. Student 3: That's what you're asking. 16. Student 1: It's a very ah…like localized question. Why don't you say that…because…maybe it fell from a Canaanite? 17. Student 2: Nu? 18. Student 3: We don't even have any -

Student 12 (11) questions the basis for the whole discussion, the explicit assertion that despair is relevant to the case at hand, while Student 3 (12) clarifies the case, "a Canaanite majority," to focus his classmate's question ("That's what you're asking"). Student 1 responds to the latter (16) after seeking clarification (14), but not to the former, and Student 3 continues to participate, taking six more speaking turns before Rav Uzi arrives. Interjection and integration of students into the discussion continues, as what began as a havruta paired interaction expands into a haburah group. Talking amongst themselves, the students exhibit turn-taking patterns and strategies in which speaking rights are taken, not granted, and in which a student may be excluded by non-response. The students' discursive practices suggest that the criteria for inclusion are conversance and relevance; Student 12, who is silenced, asks about an issue that is broader and more fundamental than the current discussion, while

excurses in the later portions of the lesson.

244 Student 3 relates directly to Student 1's question, attempting to refine it in light of the text. There is another element of contrast between Student 3's comment and that of

Student 12. Student 3 uses the premise of the text, a Canaanite majority, as a point of departure, while Student 12 questions an embedded assumption within the text, that despair is a factor ("It doesn't matter."). The latter is rejected, in the face of a lack of willingness, interest, and/or ability on the part of his peers to address such a question at the particular moment in time.

The students enact Talmud study in their pre-class interaction in the classroom through direct interface with text, as Student 2 (22) directs "Now look at what the

Tosafot says, in any case," and Student 1 reads aloud the indicated passage. We also find procedural and scheduling questions ("Is there class now?"). The discussion does not reach a definite conclusion, and another topic is raised through two conversation turns just as Rav Uzi begins to draw the attention of the students. 127 However, this brief example informs the transfer of the students from the beit midrash to the classroom setting. The move from two students speaking together to others joining the discussion as they arrive echoes the seating arrangement discussed above, in which

Rav Uzi sits at a table with a few students and begins the lesson, as more students arrive and pull up their chairs, which do not quite fit the space allotted.

127 Rav Uzi's arrival is accompanied by three cycles of talk with the students, comprising a total of seventy-three speaking turns, before the Talmud portion of the class begins. First, he photographs the whiteboard with his cellphone, a practice which evokes a Torah-study association with the students and a popular-culture response from the teacher. Then, the late arrival of a student occasions discussion of modes of transportation, cost in time and money, and the like. Finally, Rav Uzi regales the class with his own adventures on public transportation as a child growing up in New York City. These segments are of interest in two arenas. One is code-switching among linguistic registers, or the use of Talmudic terminology to discuss phenomena in everyday life. The other is the degree to which Rav Uzi initiates associative digressions in the context of his Talmud class. The latter arena feeds into Rav Uzi's stated desire to connect between Talmud and the world, using each as a lens to explore the other, alongside his stated belief in the pedagogic efficacy of this type of talk in the classroom.

245 With the transfer of the lernen activity from the beit midrash to the classroom, there are two specific questions to address, as we explore the relationship between the two settings:

1. The beit midrash features a CoP in which many learners at various levels

of peripheral participation engage in the lernen practices. Is this

community of practice sustained in the classroom setting, in which the

teacher-student dichotomy reigns? What are the mechanisms for sustaining

the CoP, or for enacting an alternative model?

2. Within the beit midrash , epistemic authority lies with any learner to the

extent that he claims it. Among the voices of text and interpreters, teacher

and students, with whom does epistemic authority reside in the classroom?

8.2 Worksheet: A Teacher Reworking

With the move towards the Talmudic text itself, Rav Uzi distributes a page, presumably the one that he said he might distribute in seder and then did not. One student's comment, "Wow, it's hard for this hour, this page (115)," suggests that he is weary of Talmud study and/or that the page is in some way demanding. The time is noon, an hour before lunch.

The page (Figure 11), printed on one side with a landscape orientation, features primarily the text that the students have in front of them, excised to include the block of Talmudic text, the three Tosafist comments that the teacher had assigned, and Rashi's commentary. The only other printed text on the page is a paragraph from

Rashba. Dotting the page around the chunks of text are arrows pointing to handwritten questions. For instance, one of the arrows from the Talmudic texts points to: "Why did the gemara choose the case of concealed and not another type of lost object?" and one of the questions emerging from Tosafot asks: "What is the basis of the concept

246 crowds gather there according to Tosafot?" The questions may be characterized as basic comprehension questions – the page is indeed labeled a "worksheet on the peshat " - although they do ask the students to integrate the material in some way.

Worthy of note is the fact that the page does not feature designated space for the students to write, and the students frequently do not use notebooks or paper as they learn. Certainly this "worksheet" is not work that will be collected or marked, and many of the students do not write at all during seder . The questions are to guide their study, and are not themselves focal points of the activity. This notion is expressed through the layout of the page, in which questions emerge from the text, while the text itself is the primary object of study. By distributing a paper, the teacher has offered a point of focus other than the Talmudic text, whose primacy of place he reclaims by reprinting it on the handout.

Figure 11: Worksheet 1

Although the page is distributed towards the beginning of the class session, it is not referenced in any way. Furthermore, the following day, at the end of the

247 opening class session, Rav Uzi distributed a revamped version of the handout, instructing the students to ignore the earlier one. On the new worksheet, Rashba has been moved to the back side of the page, along with a contemporary text, Shaarei

Tosafot , which in general provides what is touted as a user-friendly explanation of

Tosafot and, in the case at hand, explains the Talmudic text according to two different versions attested in Tosafot. The front side (Figure 12) is the same as it was, minus

Rashba, with the addition of more markings in the text and arrowed questions, and a new section of four numbered questions. The effect is one of increased scaffolding, as the students' first seder spent on the simple meaning of the text and the class session which followed revealed that basic understanding of the text itself was still lacking.

Figure 12: Worksheet 2 Side A

Ultimately two class sessions were devoted to the peshat , grasping the framing of the issues and the flow of the arguments surrounding the fate of an object found in a place where crowds gather . These were sandwiched between two seder slots in the beit midrash , the one during which I recorded Aharon and Gavriel's havruta session and

248 which was immediately followed by the shiur I have selected for analysis, and one the following day after the opening shiur . After the second seder , during which students focused on the new version of the sheet to greater or lesser degrees, Rav Uzi announced that based upon what he saw during seder , it was not necessary to go over the material together, and they would move to the second side of the page. Two more days were spent analyzing Medieval commentaries to the page, primarily attempting to determine the differences among the various positions; this is the study that is characterized as iyyun . Finally, one session, including seder and shiur , was spent on what Rav Uzi termed "practical halakhah ," using law codes and responsa to determine the bounds of normative practice.

This progression of events is fairly typical for Rav Uzi's class, although the element of normative practice is often absent. The class first engages in study of the designated segment of text, including the basic commentaries on the page, before moving to in-depth study using texts from the Medieval and sometimes the Modern period. Rav Uzi gauges the progress of the class as he tailors each day's lesson; at the beginning of a given topic, he could not tell me how long he intended to spend on it, nor could he tell me how long the average sugya takes. The revamping of the worksheet is perhaps the most concrete example of the teacher's fluidity in preparation and direction. He frequently reflects upon something that was studied in the previous lesson, saying that a conversation with another teacher or with students in seder has caused him to rethink an earlier position.

Rav Uzi is an experienced teacher, and this Talmudic chapter, a Yeshivah curriculum classic, is one that he has studied and taught multiple times. Yet he constantly and vocally tinkers with his curriculum, on both an a priori and a post-hoc basis. This activity can be explained within each of Rav Uzi's primary enacted

249 identities in the classroom setting. Enacting his teacher-identity within the Discourse of school, Rav Uzi is responsive to the needs of his students, providing the appropriate amount of scaffolding at any given time and integrating their comments into his script. Enacting his expert-identity, perhaps Rav Uzi is doing – and modeling for his novitiates – what a Talmud learner does, constantly returning to the text, reading and interpreting again and again. This activity speaks to both of the questions raised above. One way for a single expert to guide a roomful of novitiates is to model the defining practices of the CoP. Furthermore, the constant appeal to secondary literature on the one hand, and his own thoughts and those of his colleagues and students on the other, suggests a continuum of epistemic authority, in consonance with that of the beit midrash , whereby any learner is entitled to interpret, and reinterpret, the text. However, as we proceed into the text-centered lesson, it becomes clear that there are aspects of the classroom practices which are at odds with the beit midrash practices, and which highlight a tension central to the discursive construction of Talmud in the Darkhei Noam setting.

Analysis of the class session will proceed with a discussion of the discursive practices in the classroom, centering upon the use of pronouns in the classroom and building upon the analysis of pronoun usage in the havruta session. 128 The next phase is a presentation of the structure of the text-centered lesson, and analysis of its primary components, the IRE recitation and the class discussion. This analysis will present and interpret the classroom data within its context and in comparison with the beit midrash findings.

128 See pp. 171-173; 203-204.

250 8.3 Use of Pronouns in the Classroom: Multivocality and Presentizing

The discursive practices in the classroom in some ways echo those of the beit

midrash when it comes to the use of pronouns. In discussing the text, its readers voice

the various perspectives and characters featured in the Talmud, itself a multi-voiced

text. We have noted that this is a case of high school students engaging in reading

practices that are, in other disciplines such as history, reserved for experts (Wineburg

1991), and have advanced an alternative epistemology, epistemic appropriation , to

explain this type of engagement among high school students. An examination of the

use of pronouns in the classroom setting yields similar features, but the dominant

voice of the teacher reveals his role in shaping the enacted identities of the members

of the classroom CoP.

Pronoun Total Teacher Student References to People Most frequent alternative usage Statements Statements not in Classroom in Present I (1s) 64 56 (87.5%) 8 (12.5%) 6.3% Talmud learner / Hypothetical case We/Us 129 48 44 (91.7%) 4 (8.3%) 58.3% Talmudic authors (1pl) They (3pl) 62 43 (69.4%) 19 (30.6%) 100% Talmudic authors You (2s/pl) 90 64 (71.1%) 26 (28.9%) 86.7% Talmudic authors / Indefinite "you" Figure 13: Pronouns in the Classroom

I have counted the number of times each pronoun 130 is used, eliminating

instances in which the pronoun appears in a direct quote from the text. 131 Identifying

129 I have not included the twelve instances in which Rav Uzi utters "let's say" as a discourse marker, as in "I just want let's say, we'll do the first thing (305)." I have translated the Hebrew naggid , in which n is the 1pl pronominal prefix for the imperfect, using a pronominal suffix in English, to adhere to the grammatical structure, while moving the pronoun from subject to object to follow convention ("let's say" as opposed to the more literalistic "we will say".) However, in the excluded cases, the sense of the utterance is more like the English "say," with no pronoun, to express an estimate or a hypothetical case, as in: "I'll take, say, a pound and a half of walnuts," or, "Say you're walking down the street and a polar bear appears." 130 Some of the cases are ambiguous in the Hebrew, in which the pronoun may appear separately or as part of the morphology of the verb, and in which the verbal form of the participle in the plural is the same for first, second and third person referents, within the same gender. I have relied on the pronoun when it explicitly appears and on the context when it does not; some of the latter cases could be argued for a different assignment than the one I have provided. 131 The corpus is from line 116, when the group begins to engage with the particular Talmudic text, until the end of the transcript. I have not included the extended opening segment because, while it reveals certain linguistic and discursive practices (see n. 127), the current discussion is concerned with culturally situated reading practices, or direct and explicit engagement with the Talmudic text.

251 in each case the speaker and the referent (see Figure 13), I have found that, with the exception of the first person singular, the majority of the pronoun usages do not reference only, or specifically, the people present in the classroom at the time of the utterance. Rather, they most frequently reference the Talmudic authors, meaning the redactional layer of the text. This layer, or voice, referred to many times as "they"

("they didn't get an answer to any question," 208) but also as "we" ("but we also asked regarding the Rabbis," 254) and even "you" ("you don't have an answer to any question," 245), is the one that drives the Talmudic discussion, presenting and rejecting arguments and opinions and moving among Tannaitic sources and opinions.

In Rav Uzi's classroom, people talk about , as , and to the Talmudic authors.

"They" additionally references the Talmudic interlocutors, specifically regarding the relationship between the positions of R. Shimon b. Elazar and the

Rabbis ("whether they disagree," 197), and indefinite referents in a hypothetical case

("Suddenly they're clearing it away," 256). "You" often indexes an indefinite referent

("After all, you don't despair about something," 160), sometimes refers to the Talmud learner, including but not limited to the people in the room ("and suddenly they say to you no, there's another principle you didn't know," 164), and in a few instances a particular person in the room ("Otherwise how do you explain the gemara ," 158).

"I/me" usually references the speaker ("I didn't understand," 277; "I didn't have to know the laws," 268), and only in single isolated instances possibly refers to Talmud learners or Talmudic authors ("Why do I care about the majority? ," 133), or a hypothetical case ("I assume he'll safeguard it," 301). 132

I have calculated the percentage of occurrences of each pronoun that are uttered by students, as opposed to Rav Uzi. Given that students are the speakers of

252 only 29.1% of the words in the corpus under analysis, 133 student utterances of "they" and "you" are roughly in line with their proportionate participation. The proportion of student utterances of "I" is, at 12.5%, less than half of what would be proportionate; with only four instances in which the pronoun does not reference [only] the speaker, this perhaps attests to the strength of the teacher's voice in Rav Uzi's classroom. 134

The pronoun with the lowest percentage of student utterances is "we." It is also the pronoun that has received the most research attention in classroom contexts

(e.g. Rounds 1987; Fortanet 2004), and is the one which "can both refer to and establish an interactional group (Wortham 1996: 332)." The first person plural garnered high frequency usage in the havruta session, inserting the learners into the redactional layer of the text or even its authorship. In the classroom, four "we" utterances are authored by students, with the rest of the usages emerging from Rav

Uzi.

Patricia Rounds (1987), in her research on pronouns in the university mathematics classroom, found that "we," the most frequently-used pronoun in the sample corpus of academic speech, served several functions. Undertaking a semantic remapping beyond the accepted "inclusive-we" and "exclusive-we," she identified a

"we" that means "I," referring to the teacher alone; a "we" that references the students alone; and a "we" that references "anyone who does calculus (Rounds 1987: 19)."

Building upon this work, Inmaculada Fortanet (2004) analyzed the pronoun "we" within a larger corpus of academic speech, and categorized both referents and

132 Even these isolated cases are subject to interpretation as referencing the present speaker, clearly the predominant function of the first person singular in this context. 133 Word counts were of course conducted on the Hebrew corpus. 134 When students use the first person, it may be in the sense of "I don't understand," but is more often used as the student voices his own opinion, or expresses his own interpretive voice. The teacher's "I," on the other hand, is occasionally an interpretive voice but is frequently a narrative voice ("I talked about it," 252; "I thought that she needs to take it," 313; "I tried to find among the Rishonim," 252), telling the story of himself as a learner.

253 discourse functions . Finding that "we" was used more as a cooperative ("inclusive-

we") than a distancing ("exclusive-we") device, she identified five referents of "we";

the most salient for Rav Uzi's class are a larger group of people including the speaker

and the audience, and a group of people including the speaker but excluding the

audience. 135 The discourse functions include: (1) representation of groups and (2)

metadiscourse, meaning a guide through the speech event or discipline.

In light of this research, what can we learn from the use of the pronoun "we"

in Rav Uzi's classroom? With a predominance of "inclusive-we,"136 the data (see

Figure 14) shows that half of the "we" utterances reference a group limited to specific

individuals living in the modern era, be they Rav Uzi and the students in the class,

Rav Uzi alone, the entire Darkhei Noam community, or Rav Uzi and his childhood

classmates, which we will label the contemporary-we . Within the contemporary-we

corpus, there is a high occurrence of the metadiscourse function, guiding the audience

through the speech event.

Refere nt # Examples (line number) Speaker Rav Uzi's Class 19 "We'll get back to it tomorrow" (305) Teacher (Teacher + "We're learning for two months already" (264) Teacher 137 Students) "What we claimed at the beginning of the year" (252) Teacher Talmudic 13 "So we've proven that R. Shimon b. Elazar distinguishes…" (254) Teacher Authors "No, we tried to prove that synagogues is an Israelite place."(236) Student Talmud Learners 11 "They say to us, 'No. It's the Rabbis.'" (254) Teacher "What do we do with a page of gemara ?" (116) Teacher Teacher + 4 "That's how we learned geometry" (252) Teacher Others "I remember, we learned in the gemara , in the Rishonim …" (268) Teacher School 1 "In the Yeshivah anyway we have rules of lost objects" (313) Teacher Population Figure 14: Use of "We/Us" in the Classroom

The remainder of the "we" utterances, fully half, reference groups comprised

of people present in the classroom together with, or voiced as, Talmud learners or as

135 The others include the speaker or audience or both, excluding other people; a larger group of people including a reported speaker; and the indefinite "you" or "one." 136 I have identified possibly six cases of "exclusive-we," two of which feature the teacher’s "we" meaning "I," and four meaning the teacher and other people, referring to the companions of his own school years.

254 the Talmudic authors themselves. It is helpful to conceptualize each of these groups separately, before looking at their collective effect. When it comes to the broad group that I have labeled "Talmud learners," there is a case to be made for categorizing such utterances as "If it doesn’t have a sign then we know they despair (137)" in the group that Rounds identified in her research context as "anyone who does calculus." These are the disciplinary experts, and such a discourse move establishes the teacher’s footing with the experts, and may or may not include the student audience, fitting into one or the other of Fortanet’s new categories. This usage in Rav Uzi’s class, however, is not limited to the procedural aspects of Talmud study. While there are metadiscursive uses of "we" in this context, we also find referential uses such as "we see that they broaden a lot," with the "they" being the Talmudic authors and the "we" being some combination of the people in the class and all people who study this section of Talmud. 138 "We" is used not only for the procedural aspects of Talmud study but also for localized interpretive moves, suggesting the inclusion of the students in the present alongside Talmudists in the present and in the past as the referent group for this type of "we."

The second "we" in the non-contemporary-we group, the usage referencing the

Talmudic authors, is even more telling. 139 Sharon Avni (2008), in her dissertation on multilingual language practices in a Jewish day school setting, analyzes a similar phenomenon in a Bible class. Noting the ways in which the teacher shifts among deictics (cf. Wortham 1996), including spatiotemporal as well as pronominal terms,

137 This is one of two cases in which the referent of "we" might be the teacher alone, and for which I have not created a separate category. 138 Some of these cases were difficult to categorize because contextually they refer to Talmud learners and/or interpreters in general but the sense of the language points to the immediate speaker and audience. The hybrid nature of these occurrences is precisely the indicator that Rounds’ category is not sufficient. 139 This discussion takes as its point of departure the analysis of the havruta session, in which the term epistemic appropriation was created to describe the ways of knowing suggested by the students’ reading practices.

255 she finds that by recontextualizing the Biblical events to the present and animating the authorial voice of God, the teacher "has inextricably situated the students as participants in a lineage of Jewish heritage, reaffirmed her authority, and underscored the value of community within the Jewish people (Avni 2008: 81)." Rav Uzi uses similar techniques, with some unique features. First, while Amy, the teacher featured in Avni’s study, was drawing her students into a community by explicitly discussing the formation of community and nationhood of the Jewish People in the desert, Rav

Uzi brings them into a community that draws not upon past collective experience, but upon present collective and individual activity. The text in front of the Darkhei Noam students draws them into community not via its topic but via its enactment. Second, while Amy discursively marks her citation, in Rav Uzi’s class, the move back and forth between the "they" of the Talmudic authors and the "we" of the Talmudic authors is fluid and not citation-driven. To offer an example from another class session, a lesson about theory and practice regarding the heating of food on the

Sabbath, 140 we find: "It could be that a person would play with the coals to make the heat stronger on Shabbat. So that’s what we’re afraid of. The Sages enacted all kinds of decrees." The fear ascribed to the "we" is what prompted the decree of the sages.

Rav Uzi presents the Talmud learners in the classroom in linguistic and thus indexical equivalence with the Talmudic authors.

I have elected to call the type of "we" that references the Talmud’s authors on the one hand and its interpreters throughout history on the other, the presentizing-we .

Presentizing is a means of establishing immediacy, relevance, or accessibility to a text from another era. In a certain way, pedagogical and curricular moves that excise decontextualized snippets of Talmudic text focus upon the interplay between the

140 This is one of the few instances that I observed in which normative behavior, rather than the chapter

256 Talmudic text and contemporary values or practices, and otherwise "update" the

Talmud for its applicability to students’ daily lives are engaged in a type of presentizing, in the sense of bringing the text to the present. 141

Rav Uzi’s approach to presentizing , embedded in his practice, is completely different. It features a leveling of history that places the students on the same spatiotemporal plane as the Talmudic authors and gives them the epistemic authority of its interpreters. The relevance of the text, and of the study, is then established with the text, and not the students, as the point of departure. The term presentizing is well- suited to describe this mechanism, as it carries with it both the temporal sense (present as opposed to past) and the spatial sense (present as opposed to absent). The term is also evocative of the "presentizing" technique featured in Gestalt therapy (see e.g.

Jacobs, Masson & Harvill 2009), in which the patient confronts issues from the past by bringing them to the present. Embodied in the "empty chair" technique, in which the patient conducts a dialogue with a person who is not spatially present (and who may be deceased) by speaking to the empty chair and then switching seats to give voice to the absent person, this presentizing is not equivalent to but carries some of the ethos of the presentizing-we used in Rav Uzi's classroom.

The presentizing-we serves two additional functions in sustaining a community of practice in Rav Uzi’s Talmud class. First, it speaks to the unfavorable

of Talmud, formed the basis of the lesson (see Chapter 8.6). Even in this instance, though, the rationale was presented as exposure to a particular halakhic arbiter, and not the study of halakhah per se. 141 Any culture attempting to transmit its ancient and/or foundational texts is faced with this challenge. For instance, when it comes to the transmission of classical Korean poetry (Chang-hun 2009): The status of the education of class poetry comes not from the past but from the present. For this reason, it is important to presentize the past texts, which is, that is to say, the 'interpretation.' In order to carry out this task effectively, it is necessary to prepare a process for adjusting the texts to the reader's level, which in turn appears as the work of translation, annotation etc. (This citation, which I have selected for its use of the term "presentize," is from the abstract of the article which is written in Korean. The idea is echoed in many discussions of teaching classical texts.)

257 expert-novice ratio. By evoking the Talmudic authors and the entire history of interpretation, the teacher has at his side a whole cadre of experts, 142 modeling the practices of the community into which he draws the students. Second, by rooting the lernen activity in the past and emphasizing its experiential aspects, Rav Uzi may limit interpretive activity to that which has been accomplished in the past. By ascribing to those in the room the activities of the Talmudic authors, "So we've proven that R.

Shimon b. Elazar distinguishes… (254)," he removes them from a sense of innovation to be done in the present. They proved it a millennium and a half ago, people have been proving it ever since, and we will continue to prove the very same thing. On the one hand, Rav Uzi empowers himself and his students as legitimate participants in a generation-spanning CoP; on the other hand, perhaps the appropriation of earlier voices serves to silence new voices within the community.

The tension between the active involvement of the students as holders of epistemic authority and the superior epistemic authority of the history of interpretation and/or the teacher comes to the fore throughout the class session. We turn now to the structure of the lesson and the nature of its component parts.

Chang-hun characterizes presentizing as an interpretive move designed to maintain the status of the text from the past in the contemporary setting. He then advocates pedagogies, parallel to many that are advocated in the field of Talmud education, for adjusting the text to meet the student’s needs. 142 This idea is found in the thought of Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik, a formative influence on much of contemporary Centrist Orthodoxy (and head of one yeshivah where Rav Uzi studied, Yeshiva University, and father-in-law of the head of another, R. Aharon Lichtenstein at Yeshivat Har Etzion, placing the teacher within the orbit of the influence of the Rav, as Soloveitchik is known to his followers). One oft-cited passage reads: When I sit down to learn, the giants of the mesorah [tradition] are with me. Our relationship is personal. The Rambam sits to my right, Rabbenu Tam to my left. Rashi sits at the head and explains, Rabenu Tam asks, the Rambam decides the halakhah, and the Rabad objects. All of them are with me in my small room, sitting around the table. They look at me with fondness. They work the text out with me, and like a father, they encourage and strengthen me. Learning Torah is not just a didactic, formal, and technical experience whose purpose is the creation and exchange of ideas. Learning Torah is the intense experience of uniting many generations together, the joining of spirit to spirit, and the connecting of soul to soul. Those who transmit the Torah and those who receive the Torah are invited to meet one another at the same historic juncture. (Excerpted from Soloveitchik’s essay "uviqashtem misham " and translated in Rakeffet-Rothkoff & Epstein 1999: 249-250.)

258 The structure of the current lesson is fairly typical for Rav Uzi. 143 The primary

characteristics are outlined in Figure 15. There are some noteworthy parallels to

Gavriel and Aharon's havruta session, analyzed in Chapter 6. In both cases, a linear

and text-driven progression is assumed, and the cycles of text-reading in the beit

midrash are echoed in the IRE Recitation segments in the classroom, with each

followed by an interpretive discussion.

Type of Talk Lin es Primary Characteristics Interactions IRE Recitation 118b-152 Teacher-Student One student is designated to read/present/explain. Others who attempt to participate are silenced. Class Discussion 153-180a Teacher-Students Student initiates, others participate, teacher retains Student-Student control. IRE Recitation + 180b-202 Teacher-Student One student is designated to read/present/explain. Other Recitation Teacher-Students students take response role, roles are reversed, and Student-Student sequence moves to co-recitation in which students and teacher participate. Class Discussion 203-303 Student-Student Teacher withdraws as students talk among themselves. Teacher-Students Re-enters with ever-longer speaking turns as students initiate and he responds. Students also ask clarification questions, and the teacher retakes control. Summation 305b-346 Teacher-Students Lengthy teacher turns continue, becoming shorter as students challenge and gain an equal voice. Figure 15: Structures of Classroom Discourse

In the classroom as well, it is integration of the various parts of the text into a

coherent whole that stumps the learners and prompts a rereading, in this case by the

teacher in an undertone, of the text. The muddled student discussion is reclaimed via

lengthy teacher turns, just as Aharon returned to Gavriel with the voice of the teacher,

expressed in lengthy speaking turns. Similar to what happened in the havruta session,

there are challenges that prevent a clear understanding from emerging, despite the

addition of the voice of the teacher (in the classroom, directly, and in the beit midrash ,

by proxy). Finally, both sessions are terminated at an inconclusive point, after a

student points out that the time is up and they need to proceed to the next scheduled

143 I have intentionally selected a class featuring the beginning of a topic, in which some of the elements, especially the IRE recitation, stand in sharper relief.

259 activity. Even with all of these structural similarities, however, there are aspects of the classroom discourse that differ sharply from the beit midrash activity. One such aspect is the IRE recitation.

8.4 IRE Recitation Sequences: Personal Apprenticeship and Teacher Control

Rav Uzi generally opens a section of text with an IRE recitation pattern, asking questions and evaluating responses for their degree of correlation with his script. I have called this an "IRE recitation," in line with many researchers of classroom discourse (e.g. Enyedy & Goldberg 2004; Alozie, Moje & Krajcik 2010), in an attempt to capture its ritualized and formulaic qualities, although others drop the descriptive "recitation" in favor of "the talk of 'traditional lessons'" (Cazden 2001:

31). 144

While a student in Rav Uzi's class is sometimes asked to read a text aloud, with the IRE sequence taking shape surrounding the explanation or interpretation of the text, this activity is generally limited to a commentary, frequently that of Tosafot.

The Talmudic text itself is rarely the object of a reading-based recitation; the students have already "read" the text, and the recitation reviews the contents and the structure while highlighting the central concepts. A central feature of the IRE recitation is the extent to which speaking rights are reserved for the nominated student. The opening series of IRE recitation in the current class session (Figure 16) features Yagel, a quiet boy with an erratic attendance record; Rav Uzi tends to select the students who are not otherwise vocal class participants. The nomination of Yagel and the maintenance of his speaking rights supersede the arrival of the class as a community at the correct response, or the response that fits the teacher's script. Cycles (2) and (7) both feature

144 Alvermann, et al (1990) refer to "recitation," while Lemke (1990) discusses "triadic dialogue." I find Mehan's IRE to be structurally useful, and use the addition of "recitation" to capture the quality of the event, reflecting the interplay between the recitation of the teacher's script and the recitation of the Talmudic text.

260 students other than Yagel offering a response that is ultimately deemed correct, yet are ignored or explicitly silenced (122, 136), while Rav Uzi ratifies and incorporates

Yagel's tangential response (135, 137).

Figure 16: IRE Recitation I

Initiation Response Evaluation Comments (1) 118 Rav Uz i: Now, first 119 Yagel: There Rav Uzi moves from thing, first thing, was a general question someone, did someone disagreement addressed to the learn in seder , did between Rabbi whole class to the someone learn in seder . Shimon and the individual nomination I'm not saying that Rabbis and… of Yagel. every teacher would do exactly like this, but anyway, was someone in seder . Learned gemara , tell (pl.) me in two sentences what's in this gemara . Yagel, you can say in two sentences what there was here. (2) 120 Rav Uzi: About? 121 Yagel: About Evaluation move of ah…ah…when previous cycle is you have to equivalent to initiation return a lost move of current cycle. object. In which The answer was cases. insufficient and 123 Rav Uzi: further response is 122 Student 8: Excuse me. prompted. Regarding the majority. Rav Uzi silences two non-nominated 124 Student 6: 125a Rav Uzi: students ("excuse There isn't a What you said. me") and offers a disagreement Excuse me. meta-evaluation of What you said is Yagel's response. correct but it's Speaking rights too general. remain with the nominated student. (3) 125b Rav Uzi: A 126 Yagel: About 127 Rav Uzi: Initiation move is a disagreement about… Israel and What what prompt, while Canaanites, a what? evaluation move question, the assesses the current question is in response as lacking which cases and acts as the they disagree. initiation move of the next cycle. (4) 128 Yagel: 129a Rav Uzi: Rav Uzi ratifies the Regarding an Regarding correct answer of the Israelite and a majority. nominated student by Canaanite that re-voicing the answer the majority, that that Student 8 (122) the majority is offered, yet was Canaanite or silenced. that the majority

261 is Israelite. (5) 129b Rav Uzi: What is 130 Student 9: 131a Rav Uzi: Rav Uzi initiates with this majority? What is that the majority You're jumping a follow-up question. it? of the people to the second Student 9 offers a who are in this stage response that is place are appropriate to the Canaanite or formulation of the Israelite. question. Rav Uzi evaluates with a meta-statement about the shortcoming of the response. (6) 131b Rav Uzi: but what, 132 Student 4: Rav Uzi attempts to what lost object is Despair reformulate his talked about here? question to elicit the intended response. Student 4 offers a response that does not relate to the question, and is ignored. (7) 133 Rav Uzi: Why are we 134 Student 7: If 137 Rav Uzi: It Rav Uzi again talking about the it's despair or has a sign, first reformulates his majority at all? Why do I not of all, it has a question, and draws care about the majority? sign. Rashi says three responses. 135 Yagel: explicitly that it's Although Student 11 Because it has a talking about in gives the response sign our gemara that that he was seeking it has a sign. (line 144), the teacher 136 Student 11: Right? Why, ratifies the response From the force why is it talking of Yagel, the that crowds are about that it has nominated student, frequent there a sign, because and echoes that of if, if it doesn't Student 7. have a sign then we know they Yagel performs an despair. evaluation move to the response of 138 Yagel: Student 7. Explicitly the gemara says he despairs so what? (8) 139aStudent 10: This may be a Visual notation. response move to a perceived initiation by Yagel. (9) 139bStudent 10: What, Aborted attempt to why - initiate. (10 ) 140 Rav Uzi: So it's 141 Student 6: 142 Rav Uzi: Initiation integrates talking about a sign. So Because it's What? the response of the now why would investigation. nominated student. someone despair? Unclear student response is Evaluated with a further prompt. (1 1) 143 Student 6: 144 Rav Uzi: Rav Uzi ignores the It's like the tide Crowds are student's association of the sea. frequent there. with material they That's the have learned, and

262 sugya . First you provides the answer have to give a which he had title to the previously ignored sugya . (136). Offers a methodological meta- statement.

Through the first four cycles, Yagel attempts to do what the teacher has explicitly asked of him, to "say in two sentences what there was here [in this gemara ]

(118)," while Rav Uzi prompts him through his narrative summary of the discussion, pressing for elaboration (120) and detail (125). However, it becomes clear that this is not the response that the teacher had in mind, as he repeatedly alters his question

(129b, 131b, 133, 140) in efforts to incorporate the students' responses yet still arrive at his designated answer. The students seem to know that they are involved in a guessing game, as they throw out assorted terms that they have learned in conjunction with lost objects, such as "visual notation (139)" and "the tide of the sea (143)."

Ultimately, Rav Uzi himself provides the answer, "crowds are frequent there," which was offered by a non-nominated student four cycles 145 earlier. Over the course of the recitation, Rav Uzi offers meta-statements about the quality of the students' responses, including "What you said is correct but it's too general" (125a) and "You're jumping to the second stage (131a)." At the end, his methodological statement, "First you have to give a title to the sugya (144)," reveals what he was trying to ask the students, and

Yagel in particular, to do all along, yet never articulated.

From this somewhat unsuccessful segment of IRE recitation cycles, several insights may be gleaned. First, Rav Uzi and his students are well-rehearsed in the enactment of a traditional classroom script, known by the teacher and to be arrived at by the students. Alongside these norms, however, and in competition with them, are

145 Cycles (8) and (9) are of course incomplete, illustrating attempts at student-student talk that do not come into fruition.

263 patterns in which students participate at will, 146 without raising their hands or waiting for recognition, even as these attempts are generally silenced. Thus there are many student response moves, and we do find one instance of a student evaluation move

(138), as well as a possible attempt at a student initiation move (139b). These factors suggest a certain dissonance between a classroom culture in which students assert their own agency and resist attempts to suppress their voices, and an enacted situation in which the teacher asserts complete social control.

This dissonance is heightened by a second factor, the object of the teacher's control. Rav Uzi certainly has a script that he insists upon playing out, to get to the response "crowds are frequent there." However, he got that answer – and ignored it – in Cycle (7). What is the purpose, then, of the next four cycles of talk? One may interpret this as an indication of the teacher's high level of control over the social capital; even when a student arrives at the "right" answer, it is not recognized until uttered by the teacher. However, this interpretation is usually appropriate to situations in which a teacher echoes, and thus ratifies, the student's response, as Rav Uzi does on several occasions. Rav Uzi's primary arena of control in this segment is not over the words that are spoken, but over the identity of the speaker. He ignores the "correct" response in Cycle (7), "From the force that crowds are frequent there," because the designated speaker is Yagel, and only Yagel's response, "Because it has a sign," is therefore subject to evaluation. Control over speaking rights is certainly one way in which the power relations in a classroom are enacted, and by recognizing only Yagel's right to the floor, Rav Uzi in his teacher-identity asserts that type of control. However, this case and others like it throughout the data suggest that the IRE recitation fills a function in Rav Uzi's classroom via his expert-identity as well, as a means to

146 The non-nominated student participation is more extensive than the transcript represents, as there

264 compensate for the poor expert-novice ratio within the classroom CoP. By selecting one student as the "reader" or the "reciter," Rav Uzi enacts an ad hoc personal apprenticeship in which he models the skills and drills his novitiate. In this way, there is a means for all of the students to observe, and sometimes experience, one-on-one expert-novice training. The cost of this experience is the imposition of a higher level of control over speaking rights than that which is otherwise the norm for this classroom.

In characterizing this IRE recitation segment as "unsuccessful," I have defined success as getting the students to recite their scripted lines and arrive at the correct answer. Perhaps Rav Uzi's measure of success is the extent to which speaking rights are indeed reserved for Yagel. What everyone doubtless learns from the interaction is that the teacher is not only the source of knowledge, but defines which knowledge is valued as appropriate to the situation. At the same time, the students' resistance attests to their own enacted epistemic authority.

By the time the class has engaged in interpretive discussion and returned to the

IRE recitation pattern, Rav Uzi is not successful in nominating a student, and the second, much briefer IRE recitation (Figure 17) features acknowledged self- nominated participation. The classic IRE structure is sustained for only two cycles, with Rav Uzi's second evaluation move ending with a question: "Yes, what does

Rabbi Shimon think? Non-Jews or Jews? Also? (184)." This question is not the same type of question as an initiation move; it is an elaboration upon the student's response, paraphrasing the Talmudic text. One student performs an evaluation move upon the teacher's formulation (185), while another responds as if Rav Uzi had posed a question, selecting one of the options he enumerated (186).

are several cases of multiple students calling out responses, but only one or two voices are intelligible

265 Initiation Response Evaluation Comments (1) 180b Rav Uzi: Erez, can 181 Erez: They 182a Rav Uzi: They Individual you say, in the ask uh… ask questions. nomination of Erez. continuation of the questions The teacher ratifies gemara , what happens? his response by In one sentence. echoing it. (2) 182b Rav Uzi: Generally 183 Student 12: 184 Rav Uzi: Yes. Teacher elicits speaking, what are the They try to What does Rabbi elaboration, non- questions? clarify what Shimon think? nominated student Rabbi Shimon's Non-Jews or responds. Rav Uzi opinion is. Jews? Also? ratifies ("Yes.") and then further elaborates. (3) 184b Rav Uzi: What does 186 Student 6: 185 Student 12: Student 12 Rabbi Shimon think? Also, also No, non-Jews is evaluates Rav Uzi's Non-Jews or Jews? clear formulation. Student Also? 6 responds as if Rav Uzi had initiated a new cycle. Figure 17: IRE Recitation II

This brief IRE recitation sequence is sustained in the third cycle by the one student who is captive to its structures and therefore misreads the contents. The other students engage together with Rav Uzi in constructing a different discursive structure.

Within the same topical unit, the discourse moves from IRE to joint recitation, a transition facilitated by the structural confusion in the third cycle. Rav Uzi and the students reconstruct the series of questions by paraphrasing each stage. Of the fifteen speaking turns, eight are direct quotations or paraphrase. These take on the reading/recitation practices of Aharon and Gavriel's havruta session, as Rav Uzi and at least five different students speak in overlapping turns and complete each other's sentences. In the meta-discourse about what the Talmud does, epistemic authority is diffused among the participants in the community of practice. In the example below, both Rav Uzi (193) and Student 4 (194) respond to Student 12's question (192), the latter by posing a question of his own. Rav Uzi (195) and Student 7 (196) offer overlapping responses, with Student 9 (197) completing the sentence that Rav Uzi has begun.

on the recording.

266 192. Student 12: The whole time they ask do they disagree .147 193. Rav Uzi: No, that's also a question. 194. Student 4: Where does the gemara assume that? 195. Rav Uzi: The gemara asks 196. Student 7: The gemara assumes… 197. Student 9: Whether they disagree, and if they do, about what? This mode of text-recitation and interpretation is well-trodden territory for these learners. It supplants the attempted IRE recitation sequence, which the teacher makes no effort to reclaim. In Rav Uzi's class, IRE plays a distinct but limited role, as shown through the two examples in our class session and reflected throughout the data. The more common recitation mode allows the students to co-construct knowledge and enact expertise. At the same time, it is limited to reproducing knowledge that all involved are presumed to hold. What happens when the flow of the discussion diverges from the flow of the text, as the prevailing knowledge is in some way challenged? With this question, we move from the recitation portions of the class session to the two segments of class discussion.

8.5 Class Discussions: Speaking Rights and Knowledge Sources

The whole-class classroom-based participant structure with the highest level of teacher control, the lecture, is all but absent from Rav Uzi's classroom, and, as we have seen, the IRE participant structure is limited to specific contexts and enactments.

The remaining prevalent whole-class classroom-based participant structure is the discussion. While some researchers use as criteria for authentic classroom discussion features relating to the number of participants and the relationships among their ideas

(e.g. Hadjioannou 2003), others focus more upon the discursive moves of the teacher, be it via the nature of questions asked or the ways in which student responses are incorporated (e.g. Applebee, Langer, Nystrand, & Gamoran, 2003; Haroutunian-

Gordon 1991). In Rav Uzi's class, the discussion mode ranges across a spectrum

147 A direct citation in that the Aramaic ( pligei ) is used.

267 (Figure 18) in terms of both the structural elements (e.g. number of participants, order of speaking turns) and for the roughly correlated interactional elements (e.g. level of teacher control, degree of student initiation).

Figure 18: Spectrum of Class Discussion 148

Both sets of what I have labeled "class discussion" are initiated by student questions, feature student-student talk, represent in some way a sanctioned divergence from the teacher's script, and terminate with a teacher-led return to the text. As with most talk in Rav Uzi's classroom, speaking rights are claimed and not given, and turn- taking is not discursively marked. However, there are significant differences between the discussions, which I will refer to as Discussion A (153-180a) and Discussion B

(203-303) and which represent different positions along the discussion spectrum in

Rav Uzi's class. The majority of Discussion A falls just to the right of the leftmost box, with elements of the center box, while Discussion B falls within the rightmost box and is the most extreme example of sustained student-student talk throughout the data.

Discussion A, the shorter and more tightly-controlled of the two, is initiated by a student who disrupts the IRE sequences by opening a new interactional unit

148 While the various discussion forms represented in the chart are indeed attested in Rav Uzi's class, the rationale behind the chart is to represent a fluid continuum of discussion types which, taken as a

268 (Bloome, Carter, Christian, Otto & Shuart-Faris 2010: 22-27). In what turns out to be the end of the IRE recitation, Rav Uzi is seeking a known answer to his question of why a person who lost his watch in a public place no longer maintains an ownership claim to it (146, 148, 150):

146. Rav Uzi: A person, a person is separated from his watch. That's what the gemara says. Is separated from his watch. Now Yagel – they discuss. Why is he separated from his watch? Why? 147. Student 12: He despaired. 148. Rav Uzi: Why? Meaning, there are a hundred thousand people, so say that there are a hundred thousand people who will help me 149. Student: But no 150. Rav Uzi: To get my watch back. 151. Student 5: There are bad people (lit. "people who aren't good"/anashim shelo ma`alei ). That's Tosafot. 152. Rav Uzi: There's Tosafot. The second one, the little one, it says even with an Israelite majority it could be that there are so many people there so you say wow, there are also good people there, also bad people. One student begins to object to something the teacher has said (149), via an uncompleted utterance. Student 5 (151) offers an interpretation that is featured in

Tosafot, and Rav Uzi's evaluation move (152) revoices and expands upon the student's comment. Student 11 (153) then challenges the ratified answer, even as Rav

Uzi (154) attempts to keep the floor, and the student-initiated but tightly-controlled interpretive discussion is begun. The sequence of twenty-eight speaking turns, S11 -T-

S11 -T-S11 -T-S2-T-S10 -T-S6-T-S6-T-S6-T-S9-T-S10 -T-S3-S11 -T-S11 -S8-S11 -S8-T, reveals primarily teacher-student talk, with cycles of student-student talk towards the end, before the teacher regains control of the discussion and moves back to the IRE structure.

To facilitate clarity of presentation of Discussion A (Figure 19), I have supplied notes to account for nuances not represented in the transcript itself, as well as a column for the addressee(s) of the speech. I have coded the discussion transcript

group, bridge between the dyads of the beit midrash and the tightly-controlled IRE recitation

269 according to the conversational function of what Bloome et al. (2010: 68-97) call the underlying level of their two-level description of classroom interactions. The underlying level relates to the argument that is jointly constructed by teacher and students, while the surface level relates to the interaction among teacher and students as they engage in the practices of the Discourse of classroom. 149 One level is not to be prioritized over the other, as both are necessary for analysis. In this particular case, the surface level may be summarized as an ongoing struggle for speaking rights, as two conflicting but coexisting principles of interaction come into play in Rav Uzi's classroom: (1) Anyone who has something to say may have the floor; (2) The teacher's speaking rights are stronger than the students' speaking rights. The discussion is otherwise fairly typical of traditional classroom discourse on the surface level, as students appeal to the teacher as the source of knowledge and the teacher plays an evaluative role. One noteworthy feature is the two ways in which students exhibit resistance to the teacher's domination. First, they interrupt and question him.

Second, they bypass him and interact with each other, until the teacher ultimately reclaims control. These characteristics reinforce that which has already been said about the enactment of Discourse of classroom both in general and in the particular instance of Rav Uzi and his students. Of greater interest for the purposes of the current analysis is the underlying level, that which deals with the elements of argumentation by attempting to understand the function of each message unit and of the classroom speech event as a whole.

sequences. 149 Bloome et al. (2010: 92) use different language to describe this activity: "they create a public performance that matches the cultural performance models that they hold, and that members of the broader culture hold, for what counts as doing 'classroom literacy instruction.'" I have consistently used James Gee's language of Discourses to mean something very similar. Gee (1999: 58) describes cultural models as "mediat[ing] between the 'micro' (small) level of interaction and the 'macro (large) level of institutions."

270 Figure 19: Discussion A line Speaker Notes to Speech Con versational transcript directed function to 153 S11 Who said there's - Several T/S5 Challenging 154 T But people, I don't get it back students Class Maintaining floor 155 S11 Who said there's such a thing as inshei trying to T/S5 Challenging dela ma`alei ? interject 156 T That…that there's what? S11 Clarifying 157 S11 That there are inshei dela ma`alei ? T 158 T Otherwise how do you explain the gemara , S11 Counter- challenging 159 S2 Harav, Harav Interjecting T Seeking floor 160 T that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar claims Teacher S11/Class Elaborating maybe according to the doubt maybe even raises counter-challenge with an Israelite majority, there are a voice, hundred thousand Jews there and you talking over despaired of your watch that you have an students identifying sign. After all, you don't despair about something that has an identifying sign. 161 S10 He didn't despair because it's people who T Challenging aren't good - 162 T So Tosafot is pushed into a corner. I tried to Teacher S11/Class Defending find among the Rishonim that they would raises tell me a different explanation. Because I voice, thought without this kind of explanation. Is talking over there someone who thought, do you have a students; S? question? Because I just wanted to ask. Students Meaning, there's another explanation why if talking to there are a hundred thousand people there each other you'll despair. Let's forget inshei dela in low tones ma`alei . What? about S6 Providing turn inshei dela space ma`alei ; Teacher lowers voice for "Is there someone… ," turns to a student; S6 has already interrupted before "What?" 163 S6 According to the previous Tosafot, the T Introducing new previous Tosafot says that a Canaanite knowledge majority ah, it says that…with a majority of Canaanites but it could be that also an Israelite will find it. Right? 164 T Nu? S6 Providing turn space 165 S6 That's what…so why with…so also with an T Offering Israelite majority it's possible to say that alternative claim that it could be that a Canaanite will find it. 166 T Ah. You're saying that maybe the non-Jews S6 Exploring the (goyyim ) will find it. There's a majority, claim

271 there's a minority, but if so many people - 167 S6 Like I thought as a question on Tosafot, T Framing of claim why he doesn't say that also. as challenge 168 T I don't know. No, I searched maybe S6 Rejecting claim by someone would say [it]. Psychologically I identifying with thought maybe, I thought to myself a the claim, theory, maybe psychologically, someone, asserting someone, something gets lost authorship of a in…ah…something gets lost and there are parallel claim a million people there so I thought just, Multiple simply, a person, he doesn't have hope students already. It ah… attempt to 169 S9 Maybe a million people step on it interject T Supporting 170 T I don't know. Right. Trample it. It's – I don't S9/Class Acknowledging know. It won't get to him, I – but I didn't find support; rejecting someone who says it. Meaning, I didn't look claim as non- in all the books. canonically approved 171 S10 It's clear to everyone. T Asserting an alternative claim 172 T I looked in some books. I didn't see. The S10/Class Ignoring/silencing only explanation that I know right now is alternative claim; what Tosafot says that…there are so many [Refers to defending people with them, there are also inshei dela Vaknin canonical ma`alei , and therefore you assume that the (=S6)] interpretation; bad people will take it. Vaknin's twi- twist is incorporating that it could be that there are so many student claim people, maybe the non-Jew will be the one within canonical who picks it up because here it isn't a interpretation matter of statistics. After all you know that there are also so many people so it's known that there are also there from among the minority, either that aren't good (shelo maalei ) or that they're non-Jews, like that. You claim though 173 S3 But who says that specifically one like that T Challenging will find it? premise 174 S11 Yeah, that was my question. What are you S3, T Supporting really saying, in fact? That there are a lot of challenge; people. Do for sure um…x percent are elaborating people who aren't trustworthy. canonical answer 175 T Yeah. Yeah. Low S11 Acknowledging intonation 176 S11 But then why would it fall specifically by T Challenging them? Like, even with ten people there’s premise the same percentage and the same percent that it will fall by them and in all - 177 S8 No one said that it will fall specifically by S11 Counter- them. You have to check. challenging basis of challenge 178 S11 That’s what you say. S8 Challenging 179 S8 No, no, you don’t have strength to start S11 Conceding checking. 180 T After all first of all, first of all, let’s, let’s put "You're not S8, S11 Joining two your question into perspective. What the with us!" students' claims; two of you are saying in fact, it could, it said in Positing claims as could be that this that this is the gemara ’s stylized, basis for text doubt. You’re not with us! It could be that raised rather than this that this is the gemara ’s doubt. The voice, challenge to text;

272 gemara itself is uncertain whether, the directed at Reprimanding gemara itself is uncertain whether, when one student, there’s a majority of Israelites, something student. establishing like this is relevant. Maybe for sure you’ll shared discourse; get it back. Or a person at least doesn’t Elaborating upon despair because he thinks he’ll get it back. coopted student Now, to the continuation of the gemara . claims; Giving Erez, can you say, in the continuation of the floor to Erez and gemara , what happens? In one sentence. returning to IRE

The explicit topic of the discussion is the rationale for the breaking of ownership bonds between a person and an object he lost in a busy public place. As we have seen, one theory, attributed to Tosafot, has been raised by a student and ratified by the teacher. By challenging this theory, Student 11 (153) breaks the IRE sequence and opens the new participant structure. However, Student 11 is not the only one breaking the structure, merely the only one whose words are intelligible in the recording and who, after a second try (155), garners acknowledgement from the teacher. Somehow, the breakdown of the IRE is a consequence of its final moves, in which a student voice contributes new, unscripted knowledge. This voice, although ratified by the teacher, is subject to challenge by other students. The teacher has taken up this position, and is therefore compelled to defend it. Alternative explanations advanced by students (165, 171) are silenced by rejection or disregard.

Identifying the conversation function of each element within the underlying level reveals an additional topic and line of argumentation that is strongly featured in

Discussion A. Student 5 (151) has introduced a new piece of information, that there are inshei dela ma`alei , people who are not quite model citizens and who, upon finding an object in a crowded place, would take it for themselves rather than seek the owner. The unstated implication is that, knowing that such people exist, the owner of the object will assume that one of them has taken it and will therefore despair of finding it, breaking his ownership bond to the object. By citing this approach in an unelaborated manner and attributing it to Tosafot, which is printed in the book on the

273 page open in front of each student, Student 5 brings it into the joint knowledge of the class. Rav Uzi, in his evaluation move (152), makes this maneuver even more apparent by locating the citation on the page and elaborating the contents, without elaborating their connection to the present discussion. Student 11 (153, 155, 157) challenges this joint knowledge: "Who says there's such a thing as inshei dela ma`alei ?" Student 5 and Rav Uzi have just very clearly identified the source of this newly established joint knowledge; Student 11 therefore seems to be questioning the validity and/or applicability of that knowledge, arguing that the grounding in Tosafot is not sufficient to establish this principle (a) as joint knowledge and/or (b) as knowledge that is relevant to the question at hand. Rav Uzi's counter-challenge, predicated upon the absence of other possible interpretations (158), offers grounding

(160) drawing upon other jointly-held knowledge, a combination of three elements drawing upon three different sources of knowledge (Figure 20). Each direct knowledge source implicitly draws upon different origins, and is common to a particular group of people.

Asserted Joint Immediate Source Implicit Origins Group by which Knowledge Jointly Held (1) the Talmudic text Text that is the current Canonical text Members of Talmud citing R. Shimon b. object of study CoP Elazar (2) the example of the Case proposed earlier Local classroom Those present for the lost watch by the teacher, and earlier proposal and made part of joint for the current knowledge discussion (3) the principle of Assumed common Affirmed canonical The people in the identifying signs knowledge (introduced knowledge class as members of by "after all") the Talmud CoP Figure 20: Sources and Origins of Joint Knowledge

By drawing upon these three different types of knowledge, beginning with a canonical text, incorporating a locally generated example, and ending with jointly- held and affirmed canonical knowledge in his counter-challenge to Student 11, Rav

274 Uzi picks up the discussion, or the argument, that the student has already begun about the validity of knowledge and knowledge sources. He has brought to bear all of the possible knowledge sources in this Talmud classroom – externalized, localized, and the combination of the two - coopting the students into the overlapping communities of practice of that shared knowledge. The discussion, as we follow its underlying level, continues to be about the accepted origins of joint knowledge in Rav Uzi's

Talmud classroom.

Student 10's attempt (161) to pick up the challenge, refining Student 11's question into a statement that "people who aren't good"150 is not the reason for the owner's despair, is silenced as Rav Uzi (162) cuts him off with a raised voice, even as other students attempt to speak. His defense of Tosafot's interpretation continues to build upon the premise that there is no viable alternative ("Tosafot is pushed into a corner"). The excursus that follows, as Rav Uzi further develops his defense (162,

168, 170, 172), advances the argument that an interpretation generated by a contemporary Talmud learner is legitimate only if the interpretation is also found in the interpretive canon.

Students attempt to counter this argument by offering alternative interpretations to the Tosafist interpretation that I am calling "canonical." Student 10's assertion (171) that "It's clear to everyone" is an argument in favor of jointly held common-sense knowledge as a legitimate knowledge source. This argument is ignored and thus silenced. Student 6, Vaknin (see 172), champions a different source of knowledge, citing another canonical text ("the previous Tosafot," 163) as grounding to his alternative claim ("so also…it's possible to say," 165), 151 which he

150 He uses a Hebraized version of the Aramaic inshei delo ma`alei , saying anash im she lo ma`a leh (sic.). 151 The previous Tosafot addresses a potential challenge to the possibility raised by the Talmud that R. Shimon's statement related to a locale whose majority population is Canaanite: Why does R. Shimon

275 then frames as a challenge ("as a question on Tosafot," 167). 152 This series of moves offers a window into the interpretive process, as jointly held canonical knowledge is enacted as a source for localized knowledge authored by the speaker. The knowledge moves from residing in the text ("the previous Tosafot," 163), to being generalized and anonymous ("it's possible to say," 165), to emerging from the speaker ("Like I thought," 167).

Rav Uzi engages in moves that may enhance the student's contribution by helping him transition from the grounding to the argument (164) and by revoicing the generalized knowledge ("You're saying that…," 166). Once Vaknin personalizes the knowledge and places it in opposition to the Tosafot, however, Rav Uzi negates it

(168). As he asserts the authority of "books" (170, 172) he places himself in the same category as the students, a learner whose epistemic authority is limited to thinking of things that are already found in canonical interpretations, by narrating an alternative

then need to provide the rationale that the owner despaired? After all, one could just assume that the object was dropped by a member of the majority population, and one need not return lost objects belonging to Canaanites! This challenge is neutralized with the assertion that even if one knows an Israelite dropped the object, the finder may keep it, because the owner, having dropped his object among Canaanites, would have despaired of finding it. Tosafot goes on to address the Israelite who finds the object in the majority-Canaanite town, and who may keep it. Vaknin (Student 6) has noted that this latter point takes into account the possibility that a member of the minority population will be the finder, and extends that possibility to the question under discussion. 152 Vaknin has used an implication from one Tosafist comment to question the necessity, or challenge the interpretive monopoly, of another Tosafist comment. There are at least three possible sets of assumptions about Tosafot embedded in this move, each resulting in a slightly different framing of the move: (1) Tosafist comments represent a unified corpus, and Vaknin is therefore pointing to a lack of internal consistency (2) Non-attributed Tosafist comments do not necessarily share authors, and Vaknin is using the interpretation of one author to challenge that of another (3) Analytical moves found in Tosafot become part of the shared joint knowledge not only of the analysis (i.e. this is the reason R. Shimon's statement is written as it is) but of the described reality (i.e. it is the case that Israelites might find the object in a Canaanite-majority locale, and the Talmud takes this into account), and Vaknin uses what has become authoritative information (extending it to the reverse case, Canaanites in an Israelite- majority locale) to challenge a Tosafist comment. It is not clear from Rav Uzi's class, in this instance or throughout the data, whether or not the participants are expressly aware that not all non-attributed Tosafist comments share the same author, or, in the case of the tractate in question, even the same editorial school (see Urbach 1988: 586, Ta-Shma 1972: 1280-1281). Vaknin does not, however, use any language in this instance to suggest that he has identified what he perceives to be an internal contradiction.

276 explanation of his own (168), 153 unrelated to Vaknin's suggestion. This alternative explanation is supported by a student (169), who engages in the activity of co- construction of knowledge even as that knowledge is designated as non-legitimate.

The arguments that Rav Uzi and his students have developed about legitimate knowledge sources, which emerge through analysis of the underlying level of the conversation, are fleshed out by Rav Uzi (172) in his final major speaking turn before the cycles of student-student talk. He offers three arguments in favor of Tosafot's interpretive monopoly (Figure 21). He recognizes Vaknin's interpretive move by placing it under the umbrella of the Tosafist position, as a "twist" rather than the

"question on" − or challenge − that the student had articulated, and coopting it as a support for his position.

Figure 21: Rav Uzi's Arguments A close reading of this argument reveals the source of knowledge behind each of the elements (Figure 22):

153 By using the word "psychologically," Rav Uzi roots his failed interpretation in a different Discourse. This move suggests that Discourses and knowledge sources external to the Discourse of Talmud may be brought to bear upon Talmud learning but they must find confirmation within the canon of Talmudic knowledge.

277

Figure 22: Sources of Knowledge Implicit to Rav Uzi's Arguments

These knowledge sources are parallel to those in his initial counter-challenge

(line 160, Figure 20), reinforcing them as the approved knowledge sources in this

Talmud classroom. In the current iteration, the "canonical text" knowledge source represents an argument from silence: if the interpretation is not found in previous interpreters, it is not available to the contemporary interpreter. The "local classroom" knowledge source in this instance, a student’s application of, and extrapolation from, a different canonical interpretation, sheds light upon the nature of the contemporary

Talmud learner’s epistemic authority as constructed in Rav Uzi’s classroom. Vaknin offers a new interpretation that is what Rav Uzi calls a "twist" on the canonical interpretation, a slight modification or restatement of the same principle, using other text-based knowledge. Vaknin’s interpretive move demonstrates a strong grasp of the earlier Tosafot and an ability to derive new knowledge from existing knowledge and apply it to a different problem. These characteristics are praiseworthy in Rav Uzi’s class, and the attribution of an interpretation to a student by name is a technique that the teacher frequently uses, verbally and on the white board, to reinforce the learner- as-interpreter or student-as-expert identity. In the case of Vaknin’s interpretation,

278 however, the student did not articulate it as a "twist" but as a "question," or a challenge. As a challenge, it is ignored, while as a twist, it is embraced. This example highlights the limits of the learner’s epistemic authority, even as the discursive practices emphasize its strength.

Analysis of the underlying level of Discussion A has revealed foundational assumptions about the legitimate sources of knowledge, and the rift between Rav

Uzi’s position and that of at least some of his students. These foundational assumptions impact upon the question of epistemic authority, which we have already seen to be a site of tension in this setting and which may now be framed more subtly in terms of type or degree. Talmud learning as enacted by the participants in Rav

Uzi’s class features the learner as a holder of epistemic authority; the strength of this authority seems undisputed in the beit midrash but a point of conflict within the classroom.

I do not wish to depict Discussion A, with the analysis I have suggested, as typical of Rav Uzi’s classroom, for it is anything but. In light of much of the classroom data, it is challenging and somewhat incongruous; the student-authored interpretation is a more common feature than an explicit statement by Rav Uzi about the non-validity of an interpretation, originating with himself or with a student, that is not ratified by the quasi-canonical history of interpretation. I asked Rav Uzi about this segment of transcribed classroom discourse and he, too, characterized it as atypical. "I could hear myself saying that," he offered, in a case in which the suggested interpretation is so obvious that its absence from the classical interpreters may be viewed as an implicit rejection. This explanation is the flip side of Student 10’s alternative claim, "It’s clear to everyone (171)," which was ignored. The student was suggesting that the obvious need not be stated, while Rav Uzi asserts that if not stated,

279 the obvious must have been rejected. This somewhat tenuous ex post facto explanation of the segment highlights Rav Uzi’s discomfort with its implications. 154

However, this is not the only time that a similar approach is reflected in the data, including another instance of the same explicit assertion. I therefore suggest that the restrictive approach to legitimate sources of knowledge, and by extension to the learner’s epistemic authority, constitutes an aspect of the hidden curriculum which, although it should not be overstated, is very much present in the enactment of Rav

Uzi’s Talmud classroom.

Returning to the final portion of Discussion A, we find a strong example of student-student talk. Following Rav Uzi’s speaking turn, there is a series of eight student-student speaking turns featuring three different students, with one minor, low- intonation interjection by the teacher. These are launched with a student challenge of the premise, which is directed at the teacher but responded to by two students. Student

3 (173) challenges the premise of what has been put forth as joint knowledge, that the owner despairs because there are inshei dela ma`alei or Canaanites who could have found the object even in an Israelite-majority locale: "But who says that specifically one like that will find it?" The language of the question suggests that Student 3 is appealing to an external and canonized knowledge source "who says" that the premise is valid, while the rise in tone and emphasis on "says" and "find" yield the conclusion that this is a challenge to the existing canonized knowledge source, the Tosafot under

154 A Ram and former Rosh Yeshivah at a different yeshivah high school in Israel took a similar approach when I asked him for his interpretation of the event as represented in the transcript. Finding its implications incongruous within the enactment of a Talmud CoP in a schooling setting, he surmised that the teacher was finding a means of rejecting a weak student interpretation while neither engaging with the interpretation nor outright rejecting the student. This explanation posits enactment of the teacher’s expert-identity in service of his teacher-identity, as the teacher prefers to accomplish his goal through enactment of the Discourse of Talmud rather than the Discourse of classroom. I think that Rav Uzi’s elaboration of his own learner-as-interpreter role through his psychological explanation and its rejection precludes the particulars of this explanation, and the reactions of this Ram and Rav Uzi reinforce my sense that the implications of this passage, when made explicit, are uncomfortable for those who perceive themselves as socializing agents of the Discourse of Talmud.

280 discussion. Student 11 (174, 176, 178) supports the challenge, while Student 8 (177,

179) offers a localized, pragmatic, and ineffectual solution. 155 This exchange is more interesting on the surface level of classroom interaction, as students address and respond to each other and the teacher withdraws for several turns, before refocusing the discussion by once again crediting the students with the insight of the text, this time the Talmudic text itself: "What the two of you are saying in fact, it could, it could be that this that this is the gemara ’s doubt (180)."

The surface level of classroom discussion in Rav Uzi’s class comes to the fore as we proceed to analysis of Discussion B. The classroom discussion at hand features the highest volume of student-student talk found in the data, with one stretch during which at least seven different students take part in twenty-seven speaking turns (225-

251): S2-S10 -S2-S12 -S10 -S4-S6-S8-S4-S8-S1-S4-S8-S4-S8-S12 -S8-S4-S12 -S8-S12 -S8-S12 -S8-

S4-S12 -S10 . Let us begin with a general summary of the interactional aspects of the discussion. The discussion opens with a student-initiated question that at first is limited to one student and then expands to include more students, as students and teacher jostle for speaking rights on what appears to be equal footing. The teacher recedes, as he retreats to reading the Talmudic text in a singsong undertone, and disappears from the discussion; it is here that we find the extended student-student sequence. The student-student talk features a cacophony of voices and then seems to burn itself out, as fewer students speak, and pauses appear between speakers. At line

252, approximately the midpoint 156 of the entire discussion (203-303), Rav Uzi rejoins and reclaims the discussion. His speaking turns become lengthy, reminiscent

155 The idea that one would "check" who found the object reveals the student’s faulty understanding of the discussion, or lack of integration of his comment with what has been said earlier. The situation is predicated upon the mindset of the original owner when the identity of the finder is unknown, in an attempt to adjudicate the behavior of the finder himself.

281 of Aharon's speaking turns in the havruta session upon his return from consulting with the teacher, and with one exception of two student turns in a row, the turn-taking pattern is T-S-T-S-T. Even under these conditions, however, the students interject, asking questions, challenging the teacher, citing text-based knowledge, and altering the direction of the discussion, features that support the conclusion that the event is indeed a discussion and not a recitation of the teacher's script. With this brief sketch in mind, we turn to closer analysis of the first half of Discussion B.

I have elected to present the data and its coding in a format that allows for the reading of the transcript and the initial categorization, or for the reading of only the latter. Similarly, I have included both the surface level and the underlying level, using different fonts to distinguish between them. The results (Figure 23) are reminiscent of the Talmudic page, in which the central text is surrounded by commentary. To continue the analogy, the coding is not presented in the line-by-line format of Rashi, which is featured above in the underlying layer analysis of Discussion A (Figure 19), but in the segment-by-segment format favored by the Tosafot. 157 The analysis following the transcript table assumes familiarity with the coding elements, and refers to the transcript text as needed.

Figure 23: Discussion B

line Speaker Transcribed Classroom Talk Surface Level + + Underlying Level SEGMENT

S 203 S5 Harav, I have a question. Standard turn-taking 204 T Question. pattern (S-T-S-T-S) as E 205 S5 About, about these questions. student and teacher G 206 T Yes? enact a linear pattern S5 Does the gemara wants from these questions, in the end, to M 207 with the student seeking ask one final question. Or does it have ten questions that it information from the doesn’t care if it gets an answer to one of the questions. And

156 The midpoint is measured here in speaking turns. In terms of time, the extensive teacher involvement "half" takes nearly six times as long, with the second "half" featuring over three and a half times as many words as the first half. 157 This is, one may note, absent the Tosafist dialectics. The entire analogy is of course structural, visual, and fanciful.

282 E that will satisfy it. teacher and the teacher providing it. N T

A

S 208 T They didn’t g-, they didn’t get an answer to any question and Overlapping speech and in the continuation you see that there isn’t - jostling for speaking E 209 S5 Because in the continuation rights as the teacher G 210 T They’re groping around there in the dark. continues to enact the S5 The continuation, from the first come and hear they can, they M 211 same pattern as can get an answer to…to one question but it like doesn’t work previously, and the E out with the last ques-, it isn’t an answer to the last question. student enacts the T No, they reject every every thing. There’s no proof for N 212 pattern of setting forth anything here. T grounding for an argument.

B

S 213 S5 From the first come and hear it seems that in a place where Student 5 has gained there’s a non-Jew there will be despair, in a place where an speaking rights E and puts Israelite, there won’t be despair. So alright. So say that that’s forth his argument, G what Rabbi Shimon thinks. Why do they say that it doesn’t culminating in a question work out? that forms a challenge to M S8 According to everyone Rabbi Shimon thinks that with a 214 the text. Student 8 E Canaanite majority it’s possible. enacts this as an open N question to the class, such as the teacher might T pose.

C

C1 215 T Ah. Bl bl bl bl bl (while reading through text quickly) Teacher retreats to text

216 S9 Why? It’s impossible to prove it. S9 responds to S8 in C2 defense of S5. S 217 T No, but when they say that ah… Spontaneous turn-taking 218 S12 They say that it’s talking about a place of Canaanites. unmarked by pauses or E 219 T If it’s bundles. Excuse me. They say if it’s talking about verbal cues, with teacher G bundles and students as equal S12 No, they say that it is talking about bundles. Rather, it is M 220 participants. Teacher and referring to [money found in] bundles. students attempt to E 221 T Right. So if it’s talking about bundles establish what the text S4 And it’s talking only about a place of non-Jews. N 222 says. Teacher attempts S2 Nu? In my opinion Rabbi Shimon ben Eliezer in any place, 223 to talk about "bundles" T even in any place of non-Jews, it’s possible. (217, 219, 221, 224), 224 T Rather, it is referring to [money found in] bundles. while students (a) 225 S2 It’s not a question. It’s for sure. D correct the way he does 226 S10 Nu, so that’s it. so (220, 225); and (b) choose an alternative theme, "Canaanites/Non- Jews" (218, 222, 223) . Closure of this segment is discursively marked by a student (226). Teacher's voice is heard in

283 undertone singsong of reading text. S 227 S2 So it’s impossible to prove. Five different students 228 S12 So you can’t prove that it’s… collaborate in defining E 229 S10 What’s impossible to prove? the question . Student 6 G 230 S4 That Rabbi Shimon ben Eliezer says that with a Canaanite frames the challenge in majority you can take it for yourself is self-evident. M second person to the 231 S6 Alright. So say that’s what he thinks. redactional layer of the E text (231). N T

E

S 232 S8 No, afterwards it brings you another come and hear that you Students continue to can understand that also Israel. E direct inquiry towards 233 S4 We want to prove either about Israel or about - Canaanite issue. Appeal to G 234 S8 Afterwards it brings you another come and hear that you can argumentation in text. understand that Rabbi Shimon does think it’s with Israelite. M Teacher can be heard reading in background. E N T

F

S 235 S1 But why do they/we want that, they say there’s, there’s a Rapid overlapping proof here that that’s what he thinks. student-student turns, E 236 S4 No, we tried to prove that synagogues is an Israelite place. with yet more student G Right? Then also with an Israelite majority Rabbi Shimon ben voices forming Eliezer thinks it’s possible. M cacophony of 237 S8 But you reject. indiscernible comments. E 238 S4 It’s possible to take. And then you say no, synagogues, Attempts to move houses of study is a place of non-Jews ( goyyim ). N through the arguments in S8 That’s it. Then that’s what Rabbi Shimon thinks. 239 the text in a linear T S12 No, and then it says to you - 240 fashion are negated: "no" 241 S8 Yeah, but why do you have to do that? (232, 236, 240, 242); 242 S4 No, but you can say that it’s talking about places but not - "But you/it reject(s)" G 243 S12 Because you’re clarifying, (237, 247); "You don't 244 S8 You asked ten questions here, and you have an answer to a question, and that’s it. have" (245). 245 S12 You don’t have an answer to any question. Because you need 246 S8 You do have. 247 S12 But it rejects. S 248 S8 This is the answer here to the first question. The first Student voices slow question is, does Rabbi Shimon think only regarding, only down, fewer students E regarding non-Jews or only regarding, or also regarding speak, there are pauses G Israel. Then that’s it, you see from here only non-Jews. between turns, with a S4 No, only for non-Jews. It’s not a proof. It’s understandings. M 249 significant pause after You have Student 10 (251) offers a E 250 S12 There are those who understand it it also with this, also with suggestion with the that. Look at the next come and hear , what do they/we learn N intonation and from it? What do they/we learn from it? That Rabbi Shimon articulation of a question. T ben Elazar thinks regarding both of them, right? That here it’s talking about concealed.

284 251 S10 Maybe that’ll be, Maybe that will be the law? They’re clarifying. What? H

S 252T Ah…it’s an interesting question there, meaning, I talked Teacher re-enters about it with some of the guys in seder . Ah…there are discussion with a lengthy E gemara s that…work as if with the assumptions of geometry. speaking turn (beginning G What we claimed at the beginning of the year it seems to me a pattern of such turns). about geometry unlike what…he commented to me, he Frames himself as voice M commented to me ah he commented to me meaning that in of the students. Uses algebra when you’re discussing a parabola then you solve E analogies from the problem but solve the problem could be that you have, N that you have a few possibilities. Meaning, I don’t remember mathematics for meta- T that, but in geometry um the whole time you, the whole year I discourse of Talmud. His remember that we proved things and I remember that the point is the same one he basic assumption of the whole year was that if there are two made at the beginning I possibilities, there’s no proof for anything. That’s how we (208, 210, 212). learned geometry all year. More than that I don’t really remember from geometry. But a proof has to be a proof one hundred percent and if the proof is seventy percent, it equals zero. Seventy percent equals zero. There’s no half a proof. Now what happens in our sugya , is that they apparently don’t agree with the assumption of geometry, especially in the last come and hear on the page. They say, ah. That’s Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, so prove that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar distinguishes between non-Jews and Jews. If its, then it says no, the Rabbis. Ah. It’s the Rabbis? So prove that the Rabbis distinguish between non-Jews and Jews. So the gemara could have stopped the whole discussion there and said what? Just a minute, you don’t know if it’s Rabbi Shimon. You don’t know if it’s the Rabbis. So you haven’t proven anything.

Analysis of the surface level yields a pattern of classroom discourse, or a cultural model, distinctly different from that found in the literature on "non-traditional lessons" in primary schools (e.g. Cazden 2001) or authentic discussions in the secondary classroom (e.g. Reisman 2011). This literature tends to focus upon the types of teacher moves that foster certain desirable types of student moves. This is a contrast to Discussion B in Rav Uzi's classroom, in which, for instance, students may determine the type of sequence that is enacted (Segment B); pose teacher-style questions to the class (Segment C 158 ); and discursively close a phase of classroom talk

(Segment D). In other words, students play roles that, in a classroom setting, are generally assigned to the teacher. The independent student discussion as the teacher is

285 present-but-absent, reviewing the Talmudic text, further attests to the wherewithal of the students to structure and maintain the classroom discourse. The role of the teacher is negotiated by the students and teacher together, as all jostle for speaking rights

(Segment B) and the teacher is subject to correction and interruption (Segment D), and his absence from the discussion does not prevent it from flourishing (Segments E-

H).

Analysis of the surface level of the discussion suggests that the teacher and students enact the same types of participation roles and rights. That is, they are all equal participants in the discussion, in contrast to the model whereby a teacher directs a discussion in which students participate. The primary differences are quantitative, not qualitative; while the types of talk may be the same, the teacher talks more than any given student does. However, when the teacher withdraws, the students fill all of the roles in the discussion. The extended student-student sequence of talk echoes the student-student talk at the beginning of the class session, prior to Rav Uzi's arrival, which I have characterized as a move that imports the ethos of the beit midrash into the classroom, expanding the havruta to the haburah . The participation of the teacher as a member of this haburah casts him as a full participant in the Talmud classroom

CoP. He and the students are then all participants in the interactional and disciplinary construction, with their relative status based upon their level of expertise. In this conception, Rav Uzi talks more because of his discourse-identity of expert, not his institution-identity of teacher. His withdrawal leaves the students as the only participants, and they have achieved a degree of participation that allows them to

158 While this was not an accurate read of Student 5's question (213), Student 8 responds as if it is a recognized possibility (214).

286 continue the discussion. 159 This case attests to the students' fully-engaged participation in the mode associated with the beit midrash , and suggests that this form of engagement is a cultural model whose enactment is a central part of their repertoire. However, while they independently enact the haburah model, the students are limited by the shortcomings in their expertise, and the discussion peters out

(Segment H). At this point, the teacher re-enters the discussion with the lengthy speaking turn of the expert, addressing meta-discursive concerns (Segment I).

The underlying layer of the discussion paints a similar picture of teacher-as- expert alongside legitimate but limited student expertise. The teacher and students construct competing thematic frameworks (Segment D), with the teacher's framework ultimately abandoned and the students' framework remaining (Segment F). The theme of the argumentation, however, goes to basic assumptions about the Talmudic text, in combination with the learner's degree of tolerance for uncertainty. Student 5 argues in favor of coherence of the textual unit, as he asks, if only one question needs to be answered in the text, and that question appears indeed to have been answered, why does the text continue in its path of uncertainty? In a similar vein, many of the students' argumentation moves implicitly advocate for certainty. For instance, while

Rav Uzi sets up the hypothetical "if it's talking about bundles (219)," Student 12 (220) and Student 2 (225) both correct a perceived inaccuracy, saying that the text establishes with certainty that the case in question is one of bundles, even as Rav Uzi persists in saying "if" (221). Similarly, the students concern themselves with what the text is able to "prove" (227, 228, 229, 233, 236), and work towards piecing together the elements of the text to form a linear, coherent argument (Segment G).

159 While it is tempting to conclude that the teacher's participation depresses student participation, there is no indication of causality. After all, when the teacher is gone, by definition the students are the only ones left.

287 Rav Uzi, on the other hand, insists from the beginning that there is no certainty to the text (Segment B), offering such assessments as: "They're groping around there in the dark (210)." Resuming this theme on a metadiscursive level upon his reentry into the discussion (Segment I), Rav Uzi makes explicit some of his underlying assumptions about the Talmudic text and its study. First, not all Talmudic passages have the same character ("there are gemara s that…"). Second, they sometimes differ from each other with respect to degree of certainty, or criteria for proof ("a proof has to be a proof one hundred percent and if the proof is seventy percent …"). Third, the learner is charged with distinguishing among the types of texts, or arguments, and establishing the nature of the text at hand ("Now what happens in our sugya , is that they apparently don't agree with the assumption...").

The ability to identify the nature of the argument, and the capacity to tolerate the level of uncertainty that a particular type of argument, or text, entails, appear to be expert practices in the context of Rav Uzi's Talmud classroom. The students are able to read and understand what the text says , but they have a hard time putting their finger on what it does , a distinction made by Sam Wineburg (1991: 498) when it comes to the expert practices of historians. In the case of Rav Uzi's students, however, this ability is one that the novitiates are on the cusp of developing. As they reach what appear to be the limits of their participation (Segment H), the students begin to move away from their characterization of the Talmud's argument as "proof" (249), with two different students offering conjectures as to what the text does ("It's understandings,"

(249)"; "They're clarifying, (252).") When the student talk dies down and the teacher speaks, he identifies the nature of their confusion and develops the thought with which they have left off ("Ah…it's an interesting question there"). He connects his statement to the students through joint activity both that day ("I talked about it with

288 some of the guys in seder .") and on other occasions in their shared context ("What we claimed at the beginning of the year"). His analogy to mathematics builds upon his own schooling experiences with geometry ("the whole year I remember that we proved things"), and upon those of an unnamed student regarding algebra ("he commented to me meaning that in algebra…").

At this point in the analysis, we have arrived at a picture of teacher-as-expert on both the surface level, with the teacher as participant in rather than director of the discussion, and on the underlying level, with an argument about the nature of the

Talmudic text ultimately decided by the teacher only after the students have independently approached his conclusion. We now ask, what is the nature and function of Rav Uzi's withdrawal from the discussion? I have generated two 160 interpretive scenarios:

Interpretive Scenario 1: The students have just prepared the text in the beit midrash , and have all of the details in mind. The teacher, on the other hand, is a little rusty on the details, and his intended point of focus in the text is not the particulars to which the students draw him. When he is asked to explain the individual steps of the argument and the ways they fit together, he realizes that he is ill-equipped to do so.

He therefore does what any good learner would do, and reads the texts to check his facts, so to speak, before speaking. When he feels adequately prepared, he retakes the reins of the class discussion. In the meantime, the students have been left to their own devices, akin to the situation of a teacher stepping out into the hallway to converse with a student, faculty member, or administrator. In such a situation, the teacher physically leaves the room but retains sufficient proximity – perhaps the door is left slightly ajar – to ensure that a modicum of decorum is maintained. When Rav Uzi is

289 present-but-absent, the remarkable behavior on the part of the students is the extent to which they remain on-task and fruitfully continue the discussion, momentarily transforming the classroom into a beit midrash , until the limits of their abilities are reached. Fortunately, at that very moment, the teacher steps back into the room, equipped to do his job and allowing the classroom to revert to its usual state.

Interpretive Scenario 2: The classroom discussion reaches an impasse, as something about the text has become unclear; to employ the metaphor of the forest and the trees, the trees have become scattered in the eyes of the learner-travelers. The participants embark upon two parallel quests for a solution to the problem. The students attempt to approach each tree, identify it, classify it, and then connect it to the other trees within range. Rav Uzi, on the other hand, temporarily abandons the tree-level resolution and zooms out in an attempt to map the entire forest. Thus the students work on piecing together the individual arguments, while the teacher engages in murmured reading and rereading of the entire text. Rav Uzi is not absent from the classroom as the students transform it into a beit midrash , but actively participates in the transformation of the space and the activity.

I suggest that these scenarios are not mutually exclusive. Rather, each represents elements not only of the particular event under discussion, but of Rav Uzi's

Talmud class as it is exemplified throughout the data. In each arena, including the opening of the class and the two dominant participant structures, namely the IRE recitation sequence and the discussion, central questions have emerged as to the nature of the disciplinary construction and the concomitant status of the learner vis-à- vis epistemic authority. Attention to the power relations in each segment has highlighted the tensions between Rav Uzi's discourse-identity of expert and his

160 This is not intended as a closed set; there are countless possibilities, more than two of which may be

290 institution-identity of teacher. The two interpretive scenarios that I have constructed regarding the episode of the present-but-absent teacher highlight these issues; the analysis of the various arenas until this point, together with the analysis of pronoun usage in the classroom, paints a complex picture of two simultaneously competing and complementary world views regarding the place of the student-learner in Talmud study in a school setting. Before reviewing some of the key points of the analysis and arriving at some working conclusions, there is one more area that I will describe and briefly explore for the light that it sheds on these questions, the issue of normative practice in the context of Rav Uzi's Talmud class.

8.6 Normative Halakhah in Classroom Discourse: Limited Flexibility

Talmud study at Darkhei Noam, as in many traditional Yeshivah settings,161 is not geared towards the study of normative practice; we have seen that there is another mechanism, albeit not a particularly successful one, for the study of halakhah .162 The form of Judaism enacted at Darkhei Noam, and by report in the home from which children attend the school, is intensely connected to halakhah as the basis for normative practice. Every aspect of life is in some way tied into Jewish law, impacting not only upon the ways in which people pray, mourn, or celebrate, but also upon the ways in which they comport themselves regarding areas from money to morals, and how they conduct everyday activities such as eating, talking, and dressing. The combination of the centrality of halakhah to the lives of the participants in Talmud class and its peripherality to the lernen endeavor means that it is a taken-

reasonable. I have identified two possibilities that represent two different types of separate but interrelated interpretations, and which resonate with many other elements of the data. 161 See e.g. Halbertal & Hartman Halbertal 1998 162 Seder halakhah , including its failure, is discussed in Chapter 5.2.

291 for-granted subtext that may be brought to the surface via objectification and/or reification.

While the Talmudic text is not generally traced to its normative applications 163 in Rav Uzi’s class, the halakhah is occasionally cited to exemplify the principles found in the text and their applications.164 By this I do not mean the many instances in which a contemporary example is given to parallel the realia of Talmudic times, such as talking about sacks of potatoes or strings of connected sausages in the context of an identifying sign such as mahrozot shel daggim / "strings of fishes" (BT Baba Metsi`a

21a), as such instances are merely illustrative and not normative. Rather, I refer to cases in which the Talmudic adjudication is taken into account when determining one’s course of action in a contemporary situation. The following example is found in the class session we have analyzed, once Rav Uzi has retaken a central role in the discussion and he and the students work to refine their understanding of a busy public place for the purposes of returning lost objects. Rav Uzi (313) cites a story in which the law is not only applied, but is disputed and potentially decided based upon the

Talmudic text: 165

163 Known as halakhah lema`aseh / "practical halakhah ," the normative applications of any Talmudic discussion are represented in the graphic layout of the standard Vilna edition of the text, from which they are easily accessible. The upper corner of the outer edge of each page features the `Ein Mishpat Ner Mitsvah , which references law codes such as Mishneh Torah written by Maimonides (1135-1204 ), Sefer Mitsvot Gadol by R. Moses b. Jacob of Coucy (c. 1200's), the Arba`ah Turim (Tur) of R. Jacob b. Asher (1270-1343), and the Shulhan Arukh of R. Joseph Karo (1488-1575). These sources are referenced within the Talmudic text via superscript characters. Despite the fact that they are so readily accessible and graphically present, I did not see any of these sources consulted on a regular basis during Rav Uzi’s Talmud class. 164 On some occasions, a portion of a seder and/or a shiur would be devoted to what Rav Uzi called halakhah lema`aseh ; the topic of "crowds gather there" is in fact one of those occasions. This would take the form of lining up the positions of the halakhic codes with those of the Rishonim that have been studied. The conceptualizations of the opinions and their interpretive mechanisms, however, play a greater role than prescriptivism regarding normative behavior. In the case of "crowds gather there," Rav Uzi additionally chose to highlight a contemporary work summarizing the laws and their applications. He did not, however, make this an object of study, but brought it to the attention of the students as a resource, with the implication that they would like to know how to practice these laws in their daily lives. 165 It is noteworthy that halakhah is not generally adjudicated via consultation with the Talmudic text alone.

292 I had an argument and my daughter found something and it had an identifying sign, presumably. Some book I think that had a name in it but she claimed, she found it at a bus stop on Jaffa Road and she claimed that…some fifty meters from there, there was something or other that someone put there all kinds of things, apparently discarded, and she assumed that it came from there. Apparently someone moved it from there to there. And left it there and it’s all from that abandoned thing so she can take it for herself. She even called. And…meaning, I thought that she needs to take it and put a note there to announce. But then I remembered this gemara and then I said to Rav Ilan, just a minute, maybe the bus stop is a place where crowds gather.

The tale offers a concretization and direct application of the Talmud’s law of public places, which states that despite the identifying sign ("it has an identifying sign, presumably") that usually requires the finder to announce the find and seek the owner ("put a note there to announce"), in a busy public place ("maybe the bus stop is a place where crowds gather"), the finder may keep the object ("so she can take it for herself"). However, there are two important features of the law as cited in this narrative that I would like to highlight.

First, the passage is descriptive and not prescriptive. The implicit assumptions are that behavior is regulated by halakhah and that halakhah applies to contemporary situations. The purpose of the passage is to shed light upon the Talmudic text, although the result is a demonstration of the Talmud’s relevance to daily life. This is a contrast to some contemporary pedagogies of Talmud, which, seeking to place relevance at the forefront, might have begun the unit with a case: "Let’s say you found a book with someone’s name in it at a bus stop on Jaffa Road. What should you do? Let’s learn the gemara and find out." Rav Uzi has been directing the discussion away from the particulars of the Talmud’s list of questions about Canaanites and bundles, and towards the definition of a "place where crowds gather"; the students actively participate in and initiate within this topic during the latter portion of the class, and the medieval interpreters featured on the revised worksheet distributed the

293 next day are concerned specifically with this issue. The story of the daughter’s found book comes to refine the concept of the "place where crowds gather," and not to tell people what to do if they find books at bus stops along major traffic arteries. The citation of this case in the classroom context therefore offers the force of a

"relevance" argument without the sense that the appeal to relevance compromises the integrity of the lernen endeavor as it is constructed in the setting.

The second element of this case of law embedded in narrative 166 that I would like to highlight is Rav Uzi’s reported consultation with Rav Ilan, the other twelfth grade Ram. By reporting to his students that in matters both legal and interpretive, he discusses his analysis and course of action with a peer, Rav Uzi constructs a model of normative decision-making that involves recruitment of other members of the community practice as resources. Furthermore, he demonstrates that halakhah is not only part of the normative activity (e.g. doing what you are supposed to do when you find a book), but part of the normative discursive practices (e.g. talking about what you are supposed to do when you find a book).

As we have seen, while the explicit exposition of normative practices is not integral to the Talmud CoP, adherence to these norms is. 167 Thus halakhah may arise

166 A full treatment of law and narrative in legal sources is beyond the scope of this discussion. The classic work on the topic is Robert Cover’s (1983) Nomos and Narrative . The following passage from Cover (1983: 10) can inform our understanding of Rav’s Uzi’s use of narrative: The codes that relate our normative system to our social constructions of reality and to our visions of what the world might be are narrative. The very imposition of a normative force upon a state of affairs, real or imagined, is the act of creating narrative…To live in a legal world requires that one know not only the precepts, but also their connections to possible and plausible states of affairs. It requires that one integrate not only the "is" and the "ought," but the "is," the "ought," and the "what might be." Narrative so integrates these domains. Narrative are models through which we study and experience transformations that result when a given simplified state of affairs is made to pass through the force field of a similarly simplified set of norms. For an examination of Cover's work in relation to Jewish sources, see Samuel Levine’s 1998 article, "Halacha and Aggada : Translating Robert Cover's Nomos and Narrative ." 167 The Talmud CoP seems to be constructed, for Rav Uzi and his students, as a subset of a broader CoP, which one may describe loosely as a certain type of " halakhah -adherents," who practice certain types of Jewish Law in certain types of ways.

294 tangentially or as part of the loosely conceived curricular program, and when it does, it provides a window into the construction of halakhic norms which can be compared with the construction of interpretive norms. For this purpose, we will explore two examples. It is important to note that neither is drawn from a Talmud class in the strict sense, but rather from the other types of lessons that Rav Uzi enacts with his students during the four hour morning block reserved for Talmud.

The first example took place in a context in which Rav Uzi introduced the normative practice to exemplify the writings of a particular contemporary halakhist, 168 in this case R. Ovadiah Yosef. The topic was heating food on Shabbat, the Sabbath, when cooking is prohibited, as is the igniting of fires or electricity. Common practice is to heat already-cooked food on an indirect or covered heat source 169 that is operated by a timer or left on for the entire twenty-five hour period. When it comes to precooked food to be heated on Shabbat morning for the midday meal, two issues are addressed in the halakhic literature in general, and in the text by R. Ovadiah in particular. 170 One is what type of food may be reheated, with mainstream authorities adopting the position that liquids are subject to re-cooking once they have cooled; they differ of regarding what kinds of foods may be reheated without transgressing the prohibition against reheating liquids, with some decisors requiring a completely dry solid and others allowing for food that is solid but moist. The second issue is under what circumstances may the food be placed upon the heat source on Shabbat morning, with some authorities maintaining that it must have been on the hot plate at

168 This was part of a brief series in which Rav Uzi devoted the opening class once a week to exposing the students to an author or a work that they did not generally encounter. The example of R. Ovadiah, a political as well as halakhic figure who makes headlines in Israel several times a year, seems designed to expose the students, likely familiar with his media personality, to his halakhic writings and rulings. 169 Usually an electric hot plate is used in Israel, but occasionally one finds a stovetop covered with a metal sheet procured for this purpose. 170 Yabi`a Omer vol. 6 Orah Hayyim responsum 32. Cf. Yehaveh Da`at vol. 2 responsum 45; Yabi`a Omer vol. 5 Orah Hayyim responsum 42.

295 the beginning of Shabbat prior to being returned to the refrigerator overnight and/or requiring an air pocket, such as that provided by an upended pot or pan, between the food and the hot plate. R. Ovadiah’s position falls at the more lenient end of the spectrum on all of these issues. In the context of the class, it was clear that Rav Uzi adopts a more stringent position. He reflected upon his parents’ home, in which he thought the observance was lax until he encountered R. Ovadiah’s writings and was able to justify his parents’ practice. At the same time, he framed the leniency as legitimate on an a priori basis only for Jews of Sephardic descent, who follow R.

Ovadiah’s rulings, and not for those of Ashkenazic descent. 171 At this point, a student of Ashkenazic descent volunteered that his family followed the lenient practice. Rav

Uzi then modified his description of "Sephardim heat food in this way" to

"Sephardim , and Ashkenazim who use R. Ovadiah’s leniency, heat food in this way."

This example is fraught with several potential points of conflict. Aside from the ethnic premise, which appears to be taken for granted by both the Ashkenazi majority and the Sephardic minority within the class, there is the school-home conflict, in which the teacher risks censuring the student’s home observance. Legitimizing the student’s practice by embracing it within the textual tradition is a move that could only be performed if the practice was indeed found within that tradition; had a student volunteered, "In my family we light the stovetop on Shabbat," Rav Uzi would not have been able to make an inclusive move. However, within the tradition, Rav Uzi exhibits a degree of flexibility in acceptance of a range of practices. This flexibility is facilitated by a view of Jewish law in which there are multiple possibilities within a narrow sanctioned spectrum of observance.

171 The divide between Ashkenazi and Sephardic halakhah began in the Medieval period, is preserved in the codification of R. Moses Isserlis’s Ashkenazi glosses to Kara’s Shulkhan Arukh , and persists until today. The basic contours of halakhah are the same for the various communities, but there are some differences in the details of practice along ethnic lines.

296 The second example of halakhic flexibility within a range of acceptable practices features Rav Uzi on the side of leniency. For several weeks, since the reading of the Torah portion at the beginning of Genesis featuring the Creation narrative, Rav Uzi had promised the students that they would spend a class session listening to and discussing music related to Creation, focusing on two compositions that he would bring. After being pushed off several times, the session finally took place in a grassy shaded area just beyond the confines of the school campus. After listening to an instrumental piece in an almost meditative state, several students and

Rav Uzi offered comments about the images and feelings the music evoked and the connections for the participants to Genesis. Rav Uzi then apologized for not bringing the second piece, which he left at home because it featured a female vocalist, the implication being that it would involve transgression of the prohibition of qol isha , hearing a woman’s voice. 172 Back in the classroom, reflecting on the omitted music,

Rav Uzi recommended it to "anyone who listens to qol isha on tape." Acknowledging different normative practices, Rav Uzi, who clearly does listen to the recorded voice of a woman singing, as opposed to a live performance, legitimized the practice of the more stringent group by refraining from playing the music for the class. At the same time, he publicly confirmed both practices; what a person may do depends upon which halakhic ruling he follows.

From these examples of discourse surrounding normative practice, several principles have emerged. First, the participants in Rav Uzi's Talmud CoP are all presumed to be halakhah -observers. Second, their study is predicated upon their observance, and is not the basis for it. Third, there are sometimes multiple forms of practice that are deemed acceptable. Fourth, the halakhah -observer must conform to

172 This is generally taken to mean a woman’s solo voice in song.

297 one of the practices that is textually attested and socially recognized. Finally, all members of the community have equal status as halakhah -observers, regardless of other aspects of their status within the community and regardless of whether the position they adopt is labeled as "strict" or "lenient," provided that their practice indeed falls within the range of accepted norms. Having said all of this, it is important to note that the celebrated difference is within an extremely narrow range, and is not given to flexibility on an ad hoc basis. Regarding most areas of observance most of the time, the members of the halakhah -CoP who are also members of the Talmud CoP in Rav Uzi's class are virtually indistinguishable from one another. 173,174 In the arena of halakhah , then, Rav Uzi's classroom features an ethos of diversity against a backdrop of conformity. These themes resonate within the Talmud CoP as well.

173 Some of the most obvious differences are ethnically determined (e.g. Mizrahim say the selihot prayers for a whole month prior to the High Holidays, while Ashkenazim begin about a week before), or similarly determined by an inherited tradition (e.g. Jews of Germanic origin wait three hours between meat and milk, while Dutch Jews wait one hour, and the prevailing custom for others – and the requirement for Sephardic Jews - is six hours). 174 There are certainly perceived differences among students regarding the attitudinal aspects of their observance, and these may translate into behaviors such as lengthened prayer times, particular gesticulation during prayers, participation in optional fast days, trips to a ritual bath, and the like. At Darkhei Noam, many of these behaviors may be attributed to the neo-Hasidic influences in the school. However, while they may at times be taken as an indication of piety , even the proponents of these behaviors do not posit their enactment as halakhically mandated.

298 The Classroom: Conclusions

The image of the classroom that emerges from the student interviews is one in which epistemic authority is shared among the participants. Every student's voice is heard, and the substance of the class is that which the students bring with them from the beit midrash . The role of the teacher is minimized, as he is depicted as a structuring or ordering element, both of the students and of their knowledge, but not as a source of knowledge per se. While various students differ as to the extent to which the student voices are of value, they establish a general consensus that the students' voices are indeed heard, and also share the opinion that the relative value of the Talmud classroom endeavor is inferior to that of the beit midrash .

The architectonic aspects of the classroom sometimes suggest a community of practice of equals, as the havruta grows into a haburah which may or may not be teacher-centered. The ability of the students to independently conduct a group discussion in the classroom of the Talmudic text, be it during the teacher's absence prior to his arrival in the room or during his period of being present-but-absent in the middle of the lesson, exemplifies the success of the transference of the ethos of the beit midrash into the classroom. This sense is reinforced by many components of the classroom discourse. These include the unmarked turn-taking and the relatively high incidence of student-student talk that we have explored, as well as the particulars of the student initiation moves and the limited and somewhat unusual IRE recitation sequences. Students may pose a teacher-style question to the class, discursively open or close a discussion, and correct and interrupt the teacher, with whom they jostle for speaking rights. These elements suggest a non-traditional classroom in which the students' voices are heard, and they enact legitimate participation in a community of practice in which the coin of the realm is epistemic authority.

299 I have identified several mechanisms that bolster the Talmud CoP in the classroom despite the unfavorable expert-novice ratio. The IRE format is used to enact one-on-one expert-novice apprenticeships. The presentizing-we facilitates the figurative spatiotemporal relocation of the Talmudic authors and its interpreters throughout history, bolstering the expert count and granting immediacy and relevance to a text that on its surface has neither. A further mechanism is the teacher's participation as an equal, breaking both the expert-novice dichotomy and the teacher- student dichotomy by fostering a sense that the participants span the expert-novice spectrum.

At the same time as the Yeshivah Discourse as embodied in the beit midrash practices also informs the classroom enactment of the Talmud CoP, there are aspects of Rav Uzi's class that seem to compete or conflict with the Discourse of Yeshivah.

Most of the time, the architectonics support a teacher-centered classroom in which the teacher holds the cultural capital, controlling the script via patterns of silencing and introducing himself and his experiences as objects of study. His volume of speech far exceeds that of the students, and he pushes through his interpretations, yielding the sense that his interpretive rights, or epistemic authority, outweigh those of the students. It is tempting to suggest that these features draw upon the Discourse of classroom, or of school, which in many ways conflicts with the Discourse of

Yeshivah,175 and that this clash is the explanation for Rav Uzi's movement between his teacher-identity and his expert-identity as two disparate but overlapping communities of practice are continuously constructed in his classroom. This interpretation, however, is skewed towards the classroom discourse aspects of the

175 These are conclusions that emerged from the pilot study that I conducted prior to my research at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam (Segal & Bekerman 2009). In that case, there was no beit midrash to foster a Talmud CoP, and the class was a seventh grade, with the students participating barely on the periphery

300 data, and does not sufficiently take into account the nature of the construction of the

Discourse of Yeshivah, or Talmud, itself.

The central conflict that has emerged in the disciplinary construction of

Talmud by Rav Uzi and his students touches upon the same two questions that surfaced in the context of the beit midrash : (1) What is/are the source(s) of knowledge? (2) Who holds the epistemic authority to interpret that knowledge? While most of the students' activity in the classroom and some of the teacher's activity supports the theory that the Talmud learner holds interpretive rights, taking his place in a long chain of learner/interpreters, some of Rav Uzi's actions suggest a much more restrictive view of the individual contemporary learner's epistemic authority. Even as the students talk about developing their own theories and interpretations and indeed sometimes offer these in class, and Rav Uzi credits students with interpretive moves both verbally and on the whiteboard, the teacher also prioritizes canonical interpretations and on several occasions rejects student interpretations because they are not found in the approved canon. Approved knowledge sources are those which have undergone a process of recognition and acceptance by the community, and originate in the text, not in the learner. Rav Uzi models his view of what it means to be a Talmud learner, depicting himself as restricted by the history of interpretation in a manner equal to his students. He similarly models Talmud learning which is sometimes subject to uncertainty, and with which he is sometimes uncertain, as he may defer to his peers or even to his students.

Rav Uzi's Talmud is broad and all-encompassing; myriad aspects of his life qualify as "doing Talmud"; he is interested in using the world as a point of entry to the Talmud as well as the Talmud as a point of entry to the world. The students enact

of a Talmud CoP in the classroom. The classroom Discourse outweighed the Talmud Discourse, and

301 a more limited view; they are either "doing Talmud" or they're not. This double-edged sword may serve to explain some otherwise startling phenomena, such as the teacher who digresses into "off-topic" personal and popular culture references, while his students draw upon knowledge and experiences that appear to be Talmud-related, even as the teacher's lexicon is more Talmud-flavored than that of the students.

These conflicts and disparities yield a more nuanced view of the classroom activity than the surface level of the classroom discourse might reveal. While classroom power relations have been shown to play a role, as well as the conflict between the Discourse of Yeshivah and the Discourse of school, these interpretations do not tell the whole story. The ways of talking, acting, and believing in the classroom play into the central rivalry between two competing disciplinary constructions of

Talmud. Alongside the continuity of the beit midrash in the classroom setting lies a sharp divide that is sometimes – and only sometimes – brought into relief by the teacher. This analysis raises questions about the relationship between the disparate enactments of Talmud study, the autonomous beit midrash enactment that finds expression in the classroom as well, and the teacher-regulated authority model. How do these two modes co-exist within the same school setting? What purposes do they serve? The answers to these questions, which form the heart of the concluding discussion in the coming chapter, have the potential to provide the key to understanding the role that Talmud study plays in the socialization process at

Yeshivat Darkhei Noam.

the teacher was unable to harness the former in service of the latter to bridge the gap between them.

302 Section IV. Conclusions

Chapter 9: Talmud Study as Socialization at Darkhei Noam

This study began with two broad research questions: (1) How is the discipline of

Talmud constructed at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam? (2) What role does this study play in the socialization process taking place at the school? Using ethnographic methods and drawing upon the tools of discourse analysis, I have approached these questions through a socio-cultural lens, exploring the nature and limitations of the Talmud community of practice enacted within the school.

Conventional wisdom regarding Modern Orthodox Talmud education has pointed to a lack of engagement among students and a failure on the part of schools to inculcate the cognitive and affective skills necessary to induct the students into a traditional mode of Talmud learning. This conventional wisdom has translated into a research agenda seeking means of tailoring the Talmudic contents and pedagogies to the contemporary student, emphasizing immediate relevance to the student’s life and realm of experience. The belief has been that contemporary students cannot be engaged in the mode of study that is regarded as traditional.

My research has demonstrated that traditional Talmud study can be enacted in a schooling setting, and that it can play a powerful role in socialization and identity formation. One factor contributing to the achievement of this enactment is the fostering within the schooling context of structures and practices that are not typically part of the Discourse of school. The beit midrash is one such structure, and even in the classroom, we have seen that the practices of the Discourse of school are in many ways secondary to those of the Discourse of Talmud. The relevance of the Talmud to the students is achieved not by contemporizing it but by presentizing it, used here in the sense of making it present in their lives through activity and practices that are

303 perceived as authentic. Schools of course do not exist in isolation, and these practices are no doubt supported by the students' experiences in their homes and communities.

However, this is a study of a school, and of its observable contributions to the socialization process.

9.1 Review of the findings and analysis

The body of the dissertation is divided into two sections, each attending to one of the distinct but related spheres in which Talmud study takes place at Darkhei

Noam, the beit midrash study hall and the classroom. Each section features a chapter devoted to the characteristics of Talmud activity as described by the participants as well as a synthesis of observation data, and a chapter devoted to close analysis of a transcribed study session.

The beit midrash section additionally includes a chapter relating to prayer, the primary non-Talmud activity conducted in the sacred space. From the comparisons that some students draw between study and prayer, a picture emerges of constructed meaning through text-based activity. The centrality of the prayer script, combined with the limited but celebrated possibilities for spontaneity and personal meaning- making, offers a window into the type of activity orientation that informs the Talmud study as well. At the same time, the students have long been fully engaged participants in the prayer CoP, a contrast with the Talmud CoP, in which the students have begun only recently to perceive themselves as legitimate participants.

The beit midrash at Darkhei Noam is constructed as a hub of independent student activity that fosters and sustains a CoP of Talmud learners. All students are able to achieve legitimate participation in the process-oriented learning, which is characterized as a weakly-framed activity in which students have a high degree of control over the structure and particular contents of their activity and for which the

304 limited scaffolding provided by the teacher is deemed optional at best. At the same time, the participants articulate the challenges attendant to the beit midrash endeavor, and struggle with issues of attendance and time-on-task. These challenges, as well as the centrality of Talmud activity to the school ethos, emerge into relief through analysis of discourse surrounding sleep, which is constructed as a lone legitimate time-out to be evoked when a student cannot sustain his participation.

Over the course of the year of field research, the four-hour block of time known as seder and devoted each morning to Talmud-related activities underwent strengthening of classification, as the implicit division into discrete units, many of them classroom-based, was made explicit through the imposition of a schedule, yet the illusion of a four-hour morning seder remained. The limiting of the time spent in the beit midrash , and the removal of other activities to other spaces, serves as a mechanism to maintain the perceived integrity of the beit midrash activity. Rather than substantially altering the nature of the activity to accommodate the needs of its high school student body, the Darkhei Noam community of practice has opted to maintain the set of practices that the participants associate with the adult activity of

Talmud study, and modify the amount of time during which this activity is undertaken.

The nature of the beit midrash activity is socially-constructed interaction between learner, learner and text. This interaction raises two types of epistemological questions: What, for these learners, is the source of knowledge? And, within the school setting, who has the epistemic authority to interpret this knowledge? The spectrum for the first, theoretical question runs from the text to the learner (whoever that learner may be). The second, normative question asks whether (and to what degree) the students have the right to an interpretive stance, or whether that right rests

305 with the teacher. The picture that emerges from the interview data locates a great deal of interpretive autonomy with the student, but is somewhat equivocal in terms of the source of knowledge.

Close analysis of a havruta session has revealed unique culturally-situated reading practices in which turn-taking and transitions are not discursively marked, and the students voice the Talmudic text and its various interlocutors and interpreters, a practice which in other fields is reserved for experts. The learning is activity-oriented and ritualized, sharing some of the experiential aspects of prayer, which we have analyzed from cross-cultural perspectives through the lens of speech act theory. In learning, the contents of which may be utterly decontextualized from the students' immediate social and cultural milieu, success is not dependent upon innovation, the drawing of conclusions, or even a sophisticated level of understanding. The "ways of doing" Talmud foster "ways of knowing" that I have called epistemic appropriation , to convey the sense that the learner claims interpretive rights – epistemic authority − and almost authorship rights to the text, even as he may not add to or even truly understand it.

The move to the classroom brings with it a shift away from the student- centered, or learner-centered, beit midrash to include the strong voice of the teacher, whom I have called Rav Uzi. His enacted identity in the classroom, and the source of his authority, oscillates between a teacher-identity in which his institutional position confers him with authority over the students, the ordering of the interactions, and the curricular contents, and an expert-identity in which his authority derives from his participation in the discourse as he models its practices for and with his group of novitiates. Two central questions guide the analysis of the classroom: (1) Is/How is the beit midrash CoP sustained in the classroom setting? (2) Among the voices of text

306 and interpreters, teacher and students, with whom does epistemic authority reside in the classroom?

Students, in their interviews, evoke a classroom in which epistemic authority is diffused among the participants and the teacher's teacher-identity is limited to an organizing role among various interpretations put forth by traditional interpreters and students alike, yet the activity is a weak mirror of the more creative and independent, and more valued, beit midrash activity. While some students celebrate the weight conferred in the classroom upon the student voice, others lament it, in indictment of the student-as-expert perspective and/or in defense of the quasi-canonical interpretive tradition.

The students' assertion that the beit midrash CoP is imported into the classroom setting is supported only to a limited extent. In some ways, the classroom is a typical traditional classroom. Rav Uzi dominates the speaking-turns and speaks in longer turns than the students. He silences student voices when they do not conform to his script, and initiates tangents and digressions about his own life and worldview, activities not undertaken by the students. He enacts IRE recitation sequences at the opening of each textual sub-unit, with a focus on defending the speaking rights of the designated student. The student voices advocate interpretive freedom and creativity, while Rav Uzi privileges the history of interpretation, highlighting a central tension surrounding the question of epistemic authority and approved sources of knowledge.

In other ways, however, Rav Uzi's classroom epitomizes the expansion of the havruta model into a haburah , from a pair to a group of learners. The beit midrash reading practices are reflected in unmarked turn-taking and text recitation. Class discussions are more common than IRE sequences, and these are frequently student- initiated and sometimes student-led. Students jostle for speaking rights alongside the

307 teacher, who participates in the CoP as a more-expert participant along a continuum and who is bound to the same epistemological principles and cultural models – those belonging to and governing the broader Talmud CoP – as his students. The members of this CoP are all presumed to be halakhah -observers, with their discourse surrounding normative practice revealing a modicum of flexibility within a narrow acceptable range. With the Talmud study itself enacted as a normative practice, it is no surprise that it, too, is characterized by discernable yet limited possibility for creativity and innovation.

I have identified two mechanisms whereby Rav Uzi fosters a vibrant CoP of

Talmud learners within the classroom, despite the unfavorable expert-novice ratio that is endemic to the setting. One is the IRE recitation sequences, enacted as an ad hoc personal apprenticeship in which the teacher-expert models the skills and drills his novitiate, which provides a means for all of the students to observe, and sometimes experience, one-on-one expert-novice training. The other, which I have called presentizing , is achieved via shifts in pronoun use, especially "we," to evoke the

Talmudic authors and the entire history of interpretation in the same spatiotemporal zone as the students, providing a cadre of experts to model the Talmud-learning practices and induct the novices into the community of practice.

9.2 Discussion

The beit midrash , the classroom, and the lopsided relationship between them lead to a complex, but coherent, picture of the discipline of Talmud at Yeshivat

Darkhei Noam and its role in the socialization processes at the school. The students are legitimate participants in a community of practice that reflects with a high level of verisimilitude the adult world that they are expected to join. They have attained expertise with the discursive practices of the community, and enact them in ways that

308 are perceived to be authentic, even within the more limited schooling framework.

Their epistemic appropriation facilitates an identity of Talmud-learner that is enacted and valued within the school setting beyond the confines of the Talmud class, within the discursive practices and normative behavior of the community. Within the classroom, Rav Uzi models expert Talmud-learner practices, furthering the students' progression along the novice-expert trajectory, sometimes asserting his institutional authority in order to accomplish this goal; the IRE recitation sequence is but one example of the ways in which Rav Uzi enacts his teacher-identity in service of his expert-identity.

The negotiation of the nature of the Talmud-learner identity is a site of tension at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam. While the students' expressed and enacted belief is that they are holders of epistemic authority, and many of the beit midrash practices and some of the classroom practices support this theory, they are in fact being initiated into a community of practice in which knowledge emerges from the text and epistemic authority lies with its canonized interpreters. While epistemic appropriation entitles the learner to speak as if he is a source of knowledge, and presentizing is a means of regarding the learner as if he is on the same plane as the authors and interpreters, these are discursive practices that foster a sense of epistemic authority, while supporting a mode of study in which the goal is to read that which has been read, interpret that which has been interpreted, and innovate within the confines of what has been innovated. When Rav Uzi praises a student's interpretation for its allegiance to an existing interpretation, or rejects an interpretation because it has not been said in the past, he implicitly promotes the position that the truly worthy interpretations have already been given, or the truly worthy interpreters have already spoken. He models a mode of Talmud study that is of the world and a means of

309 perceiving the world, and is himself in many ways an open and worldly individual within his community. The role of Talmud study, however, is to sustain that community. The Darkhei Noam students are being prepared to join the society from which they emerge, and are equipped with the practices and the identities to facilitate their transition into full participation in that society. Thus the identity of Talmud- learner, more important than any Talmud that is learned, entails submission to the hierarchical structures of the community via the perceived empowerment of the individual.

Within the activity theory model upon which social learning theories draw,

Yrjo Engeström (2001) conceptualizes three generations. The first generation held the individual to be the unit of analysis, while the second generation attended to collective activity systems, ultimately focusing as well upon the interrelationships between individual and community. Calling for the development of tools to move into a third generation of theory, Engeström (2001: 136-137) proposes five "principles" to summarize activity theory. These include: 176

1. Activity System : A collective, artifact-mediated and object-oriented activity

system…is taken as the prime unit of analysis.

2. Multi-voicedness : An activity system is always a community of multiple

points of view, traditions and interests.

3. Historicity : Activity systems take shape and get transformed over lengthy

periods of time.

4. Contradictions : Historically accumulating structural tensions within and

between activity systems [which]…generate disturbances and conflicts, but

also innovate attempts to change the activity.

176 These direct quotes are selectively excerpted from lengthier texts.

310 5. Expansive transformations : an expansive transformation is accomplished

when the object and the motive of the activity are reconceptualized to embrace

a radically wider horizon of possibilities than in the previous mode of the

activity.

These principles provide a useful means of structuring a distilled description of the central processes taking place in the arena of Talmud study at Yeshivat Darkhei

Noam, as we move away from the dichotomy of the beit midrash and the classroom. 177

The activity system that is the unit of analysis is everything (people, objects, space, actions) relating to Talmud at Darkhei Noam. This activity system overlaps with many other activity systems; three of the most prominent are the broader schooling activity system at Darkhei Noam, the "Jewish" activity system (within the confines of the school, as well as the students' homes and home communities), and the

Talmud activity system. 178

Multivoicedness in the Talmud activity system at Darkhei Noam is of course expressed by the presence of the various constituents, those directly represented

(teacher, students) and perhaps those whose representation is less direct but nonetheless impacts upon the activity system (parents, community leaders). A unique feature of the multivoicedness of this particular activity system is the inclusion of voices representing the Talmudic authors and interlocutors, as well as interpreters throughout the ages. The need to account for all of these voices contributes

177 This exercise also speaks to the applicability of activity theory and by extension of social learning theory to the educational setting, despite the fact that much of the work has been done in organizational contexts. Egestrom, for instance, develops and exemplifies the theory through analysis of children's health care in Finland. 178 These activity systems represent concrete enactments of Discourses – ways of being, believing, talking, behaving – that have been discussed throughout this work.

311 simultaneously to the vibrancy of the activity system and to the conflicts enacted therein.

The historicity of the activity system in this case must take into account the institutions upon which the particular system draws and implicitly seeks to continue.

A contemporary school and heir to the Lithuanian yeshivot, the activity system remains connected to both enactments, but prioritizes the perceived heritage. The immediate history of the activity system is also relevant, in that the students have somehow moved from the limited engagement of their participation in Talmud that they describe from their junior high school years to the highly engaged version that they construct in twelfth grade. None of these histories, or "lengthy periods of time," are observable in this research, but they nonetheless inform the work in that they are invoked, implicitly or explicitly, by the participants in the present.

The contradictions , or structural tensions, are twofold. There is the tension between the Talmud activity system and the school activity system, a minor part of the story at Darkhei Noam. Then there is the tension within the Talmud activity system, between the autonomous, creative learning in which students are bearers of epistemic authority and have the power to innovate, and the authority-driven system in which epistemic authority lies with the interpretive tradition and its representatives.

The most extensive expansive transformation is visible in this study only as the end product; the process can only be surmised. In this I refer to the activity system of school, whose traditional structures are inhospitable to the type of classroom supported by the Talmud activity system, let alone the beit midrash . Smaller scale yet no less significant transformations are, however, discernible in the present research.

One example is the transformation of the beit midrash from a weakly classified to a strongly classified space and time, serving the interests of historicity while bowing to

312 the exigencies of the constituency and setting. Another negotiated transformation that has been initiated by Rav Uzi but not quite achieved in the activity system is the move to an expansive view of Talmud as having a reciprocal relationship with what the teacher calls "the world." This transformation-in-process mitigates the tensions between the multiple Discourses among which the participants move, undercutting the single-Discourse/multiple-Discourse dichotomy in favor of a single-Discourse-holistic model. 179

In the arena of Orthodox Talmud education, Yeshivat Darkhei Noam is a success story. Not only are the socialization mechanisms consistent with the implicit aims of the schooling, the students are engaged and active participants in a vibrant community of practice of Talmud learners, a feat beyond the grasp of many similar institutions. These accomplishments may well have as much to do with who is sending their children to the school, and the broader social context in which they participate, as with the program offered by and within the school itself. Nonetheless, this unique learning environment suggests that initiating students into the situated discursive practices of a community has the power to foster not only ways of doing, but also ways of knowing and, ultimately, ways of being and belonging.

9.3 Authority, autonomy and socialization: Proposing a model

What are the mechanisms for this socialization? What aims are served by the various forms of disciplinary construction within the activity system? I have constructed a model (Figure 24) that addresses these questions and proposes a means

179 While Devra Lehmann's (2007) comparative study of Bible classes and English classes at a Modern Orthodox high school in the United States revealed multiple Discourses enacted in multiple disciplinary settings, I have focused upon one disciplinary arena alone. Nonetheless, the school ethos that is promoted and constructed through Talmud study and through many other aspects of the schooling experience at Darkhei Noam indeed privileges that disciplinary arena over any others. The construction of this discipline as all-inclusive and porous leads me to characterize both it and potentially the school as "single-Discourse" yet "holistic," or single-Discourse in a way that is inclusionist rather than rejectionist.

313 of conceptualizing and representing the complex relationships that are suggested by the data and its integrative analysis.

Figure 24: Proposed Socialization Model

Autonomy Authority Discourse Discourse

"Authentic" Practices Social Conservation & Expertise & Reproduction

Identity Formation "Authentic" Practices & Expertise

Membership in Society

314 The broken circle at the top represents the dialectical relationship between the autonomy-based discursive practices that characterize the disciplinary construction of

Talmud at Darkhei Noam, and the authority-based discursive practices that arise less frequently but are no less integral to the activity system. In the next two levels, the light rectangles represent activity modes, while the dark ovals represent social processes. The model represents relationships among these elements; it is important that the discursive practices, which I have labeled "'Authentic' Practices & Expertise," find expression in both systems, as they constitute the observable and perhaps defining activity of the activity system.

I suggest that the "Autonomy Discourse" fosters engagement in the activities of the CoP, along with a sense of authentic participation in and contribution to the real-world activity of learning Talmud. The engagement and participation cultivate identity formation. That is, by conducting the activities of real-world Talmud learning, the students construct identities of Talmud learners; these may be idealized identities in which the creativity, innovation, and contribution of the individual learner are emphasized or perhaps overstated in relation to the parallel actualized identities. This identity, conceived as a discourse-identity , to return to Gee's (2000-

2001) categories, may also be viewed as an affinity-identity ,180 an identity rooted in "a set of distinctive practices (p. 105)" that unites people who may not be connected geographically or in any other way. The identity of Talmud-learner binds one to other

Talmud learners, promoting membership in the society, or affinity community , which fosters and values Talmud-learning activities similar to those enacted at Darkhei

Noam. The term affinity community follows from the notion of the affinity identity , and I use it to mean a broader CoP than that conducted within the school setting, with

315 the qualification that it is neither spatially nor temporally bound. In other words, there are many Talmud CoPs which Darkhei Noam students may join in the future; these include, for instance, post-high school yeshivah settings, as well as daily or weekly

Talmud study groups that take place in National Religious communities (in which the students may reside as adults) throughout Israel. Beyond the localized, spatio- temporally bound CoP, however, is the affinity community . The members of a local

Talmud CoP are also members of the broader Talmud-learning affinity community , comprised of all who engage in particular practices in particular ways. 181

On the "Authority Discourse" side of the model, the associated social process is the conservation, or preservation, necessary for social reproduction. The regulatory function of the teacher in preserving the position of the interpretive tradition ensures the replication of that tradition. This replication is accomplished through, and stimulates, the discursive practices that are perceived as authentic and traditional. The continual reading and rereading of text in the unmarked patterns that need not yield conclusions or even particular knowledge also serve to join the students with the affinity community through shared practice.

If both sides of the model lead to the same place, then why are both needed?

Returning to the dialectical fractured circle, the autonomy discourse requires the authority discourse to ensure continuity; constant innovation may result in a traditional system which is suddenly altered into non-traditional forms or substance.

Conservatism protects against radical change, even as change may be inevitable. Even as the authority discourse reins in the autonomous discourse, the former requires the latter for recruitment and induction of new members. It is their identities as innovators

180 Gee champions the principle that the same phenomenon – the example featured in the article is ADHD – may be viewed through multiple identity lenses. 181 One could of course also posit the existence of sub-communities, such as those comprised of "full- time Talmud learners," or " daf yomi /daily folio learners."

316 and contributors that make the Darkhei Noam students willing and even eager participants in the activity and in the community.

9.4 Limitations of this study

By choosing to explore Talmud education at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam using ethnographic methods, I have created a work that could be mistaken for a whole- school ethnography but is not. Perhaps a whole-school ethnography would have correlated the authority-autonomy tensions and attendant mechanisms for cohesion that I have uncovered with parallel tensions throughout the schooling setting; I have a sense that this may be the case, but the present study does not account for this avenue of inquiry. Similarly, the implicit tension between the individualist-spiritualist ethos of the school and its normative religious educational goals is beyond the scope of this study.

Even within the empirical data that I collected, there are avenues of exploration that remained largely untouched. One such avenue relates to the discursive practices of Talmud in comparison with other disciplinary practices at the school. I observed and recorded classes in History, English, and Bible, and anecdotally can attest to qualitative differences between those settings and Rav Uzi's

Talmud class; examples include the preponderance of clarification questions as well as the teacher-centeredness of the setting. However, I did not feel that the data I collected was sufficiently rich to justify its analysis, and this work was not intended to be a comparative study.

The flip side of insufficiently rich data is overly rich data. I have selected the issues of greatest interest for development in this work. "Greatest interest" is a slippery and non-scientific category. I have endeavored to select those things which are constructed in the setting as central or significant, as they are routinized or marked

317 by the participants, and which also speak to the broad questions with which I began the study and the many iterations of these questions that emerged from the data. The latter point may mean that "greatest interest" means greatest interest to me; to some extent I am certain that it does. At the same time, I hope that the results offer a complex yet coherent picture which is supported by the data.

One example of an area that I thought may find its place in the dissertation but ultimately did not is identity construction via construction of the Other. Indeed, the

Darkhei Noam community defines itself in relation to other groups in Jewish Israeli society, both politically (Right vs. Left) and religiously (Religious Zionist vs. secular,

Religious Zionist vs. ultra-Orthodox). Further population groups towards which attitudes are expressed include women and non-Jews. More subtle differences emerge in references to Religious Zionist groups perceived to be less stringently observant; academic Bible scholars; and various ethnic groups within Judaism, which may be represented within the school population. The data privileges the Talmud-learner identity above these other constructions, but in some ways, the former also subsumes the latter. They are not included in this work for two reasons, namely the points of focus of the research and the fact that they do not emerge with great force from the data. Nonetheless, these social and contextual ways of constructing identity are sufficiently present to make them worthy of mention.

There are myriad other arenas for analysis and stories to be told that emerge from this rich data set; of some of these I am aware, while others have doubtless escaped me. This problem is endemic to ethnographic work in general, and all the more so to a limited, or focused, ethnographic case study such as this one. Awareness of this limitation is, I believe, part and parcel of good ethnographic work, even as I

318 have endeavored to tell the best and most coherent story that I have found and constructed with and through the data.

The other types of limitations are methodological. First, the data does not include video recordings. This means not only that movement, facial expressions and the like are not systematically part of the analysis (and indeed, were not intended to be), but also that individual students are frequently difficult to identify in the audio recordings of the classroom sessions. This means that I know sometimes but not always which student is talking at any given point, but can only distinguish among the different voices within a recording. Furthermore, I cannot systematically correlate the classroom data with the interview data.

The latter issue, the technical limitations on my ability to follow the interviewees into the classroom, so to speak, is exacerbated by the limitations and ethical guidelines imposed by the permit that I received to conduct research in a school and to interview students. I was instructed not to track students across the school year, and not to have any documents identifying or tracing individual students.

Since these were not the aims of the research, this is a limitation that is worthy of mention but that did not impact greatly upon the data collection and analysis.

It is also the case, of course, that even while adhering to the ethical guidelines, and even without definitive correlation between individual students and every recorded voice, it is impossible to spend the amount of time that I did in a setting and not come to know the participants. The socially constructed status (or discourse- identities) of the students and the nature of their participation was visible to me in multiple dimensions, and I noted this information even as I could not formally collect it as data. I have used this information in describing what "kind of person" (Gee 2000-

2001) each interviewee is in the Talmud-learning context. I have tried to preserve the

319 distinctions and variations among the student voices, rather than creating a conglomerate known as "the students." At the same time, certain themes are sufficiently pervasive, even as they emerge from disparate directions (e.g. while students disagree as to whether or not a student-dominated classroom is a positive thing, many interviewees offer such a characterization in their descriptions of the classroom activity), to justify the latter appellation.

The major limitation is the student that I did not get to know. The interviewees range from star Talmud students to mediocre ones, from vocal participants in the class discussion to barely-present ones. These students, I came to know. I also came to know the most-engaged participants who declined to be interviewed. What about, however, the student who declined to be interviewed and never participates in class?

What about the most sporadic attendees, or the student who left the school during the first half of the year (during which he declined to be interviewed) to study at a Torah- studies-only yeshivah, or the student who was sent home for the entirety of the bagrut matriculation exam period and told to present himself only for his tests? The most peripheral participants in any CoP have ways of making themselves invisible, and in the current study, they are not as visible as ideally they should be.

9.5 Implications & directions for further research

This case study demonstrates the possibility of enacting certain structures and activities in a schooling setting. These are structures and activities that are at once unusual for such settings and considered desirable for such settings by many contemporary theorists and practitioners of education. The level of independence and agency in general, and the participation in authentic disciplinary practices in particular, reflect and open a world of possibilities. While much of the research

320 seeking to promote these aspects of teaching and learning is design research, the current study exemplifies their successful enactment in a non-intervention setting.

At the same time, there are aspects of the setting, and of the mechanisms that support the types of learning taking place therein, which are cause for pause among those seeking to foster disciplinary communities of practice in schooling contexts.

That learning is culturally situated and contextually dependent is not a new idea.

However, the strong identity-formation component of Talmud education at Darkhei

Noam, which I have suggested is a key to the enactment of the disciplinary CoP, is supported by elements throughout and beyond the schooling experience per se.

Stated in positive terms, while the process-orientation of the Talmud

Discourse constructed at Yeshivat Darkhei Noam may make this area of study particularly conducive to the enactment of a CoP within the schooling setting, other non-school Discourses can also find a place within the confines of the school. Rather than the mathematics classroom CoP, the history classroom CoP, the biology classroom CoP, and the literature classroom CoP, in which the students learn the practices and identities of a classroom CoP, perhaps Talmud provides a model for ways in which schooling can foster other identities and practices by supporting the enactment of, for instance, a mathematics CoP, a history CoP, a biology CoP and a literature CoP. In order for this to happen, the context must foster identities not of a math, history, biology, or literature student who happens to engage in the practices of mathematicians, historians, biologists, and literary authors or scholars, but the identities of those real-world practitioners.

I have wondered as to the possibility, and even the desirability, of such an endeavor. Are these disciplinary identities sufficiently central to the students' present and adult lives to warrant this type of identity formation? Does society have an

321 interest in producing such citizens? Is it possible to instill these types of identities and engagement in multiple arenas simultaneously?

Religious society, and all the more so religious education, provides fertile ground for studying the relationships between schooling and society. A clear and narrowly-defined view of the type of citizen to be produced brings culturally-valued disciplinary activity as well as matters of identity formation into sharp relief. More research is needed in non-interventionist settings in other disciplines to explore the nature of the disciplinary identify-formation in a setting which is not a "total institution" (Goffman 1961) devoted to fostering that identity.

The nature of the literacy practices in the Talmud arena similarly provides insight into meaning-making in which boundaries between learner and text are blurred, and in which techniques such as epistemic appropriation and presentizing make the learner closer to the world of the text, rather than modifying the text to accommodate the learner. More broadly, at Darkhei Noam, the relevance-authenticity tension (Rosenak 1986) is heavily weighted on the side of authenticity, and there are mechanisms in place to make this work. Are similar mechanisms generated in other schooling disciplines to support authentic practices? If so, what are they?

The role of the teacher in authority regulation is another area which is enriched by this study, and which suggests avenues for further research. Rav Uzi's continuous maneuvering between teacher-as-expert and teacher-as-authority enables him to exhibit submission to the "rules" of disciplinary practice even as he imposes and enforces them. He harnesses traditional classroom practices, such as IRE, in the service of the enactment of a disciplinary CoP in the classroom. He also functions in a religious environment in which the role of the teacher is to model normative ways of being and acting in the world. To what extent does this role support his modeling of

32 2 disciplinary practices, and to what extent is this practice accessible to and implemented by teachers in other types of settings?

For religious education, this study offers an activity-based model for recruitment to the broader affinity community . Affinity communities based upon other values and practices, such as democracy or environmentalism, could be (and likely are) fostered through similar mechanisms. However, the uniqueness of this study lies in its conception of text-study as the valued activity. Within and beyond the world of

Talmud education in particular and Jewish education in general, I would like to see parallel comparative studies to further explore the notion of identity formation through text study. 182 How are the issues raised in this study expressed in Talmud education for Orthodox girls? What about boys' settings in which the pendulum swings towards "relevance"? What is the role of text study in "liberal" or non- religious settings? What about text recitation and study in, for instance, Catholic settings? Are there culturally valued quasi-canonical texts whose study may share features with religious text study, such as the Constitution of the United States? How are these texts being studied in schools, how could they be studied, and why?

Finally, there is a "black box," or even a "black hole," that has bothered me throughout this research. Rav Uzi's students look back at their early experiences with

Talmud and decry them as inauthentic; 183 they celebrate their current experiences as authentic and meaningful. Where is the jump and how did it happen? A certain level of basic competence is required for even the most peripheral participation in a CoP.

182 Lois Safer's dissertation, The construction of identity through text: Sixth and seventh grade girls in an ultra-Orthodox Jewish day school (2003), addresses similar questions, with a strong emphasis on classroom discourse practices surrounding the silencing of non-sanctioned ideas. In the classroom she studied, the text study is not the valued act as much as an instrument in shaping identities of "being Jewish." 183 While it is not surprising for the twelfth grader to look back at his seventh grade self and scoff, this sense is supported by my pilot study, a short-term study of a seventh grade Talmud class (Segal & Bekerman 2009).

323 How did the students acquire that competence, and what mechanisms recruited them to the endeavor? How, and at what point, did the vibrant CoP that I observed take shape? Must such a CoP, in the absence of the level of expertise required for autonomy, be sustained through authority? If so, what does this mean about the processes of learning and of schooling? These questions may be read as call for a longitudinal study of Talmud students – or students of other contextually-supported school-based disciplinary practices – to trace the development of competencies and its interactions with the authority-autonomy spectrum. I do not wish to understate the uniqueness of the research setting, nor do I intend to overstate the generalizability of the findings of this study. In fact, if the immediate impact of my work is to reveal and stimulate interest in the enacted discursive practices of traditional Talmud study in a schooling setting, I will be delighted. However, I believe that these questions are broader, going to the underpinnings of issues that trouble proponents of constructivist learning theories and discovery learning methods, particularly within an achievement- oriented context. A setting such as Yeshivat Darkhei Noam, in which the activity is the achievement, offers a partial response to these questions even as they demand further research attention.

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345 APPENDIX A: Transliteration Conventions 184

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346 APPENDIX B: Talmud Page

BT Baba Metsi`a 24a, Vilna Edition

347 APPENDIX C: Havruta Session Transcript

1. Aharon The question was asked: Did Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar say this where the majority of the people are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites, or also where the majority are Israelites? 2. Gavriel No, no I didn’t understand the difference. What’s the connection between a Canaanite majority and an Israelite majority? 3. Aharon Just a minute, but that’s not the end. It’s a question. They say, does he say it only in a place where the majority is Canaanite and there are a few Israelites, or also where the majority are Israelites? Do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion 4. Gavriel And if you come to the conclusion that also where the majority are Israelites do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree with him – they would certainly disagree where the majority are Israelites 5. Aharon If you say that when the majority, if you say that they disagree in the case that it’s that the majority are Canaanites, if, even when the majority are Canaanites then they disagree, then when the majority is Israelite then its clear that they disagree, they, like, it’s easier to understand why, when it’s a Canaanite majority, all right, then there is a greater chance, a greater chance that it will be Canaanite, and then you don’t have to return, so they say, maybe in a place like that he doesn’t have to return. If you say that in a place like this they disagree, then in a place where the majority is Israelite, of course they disagree. 6. Gavriel I didn’t understand anything. The gemara says… 7. Aharon There are two questions 8. Gavriel That…that he said it, the section these belong to him , it's in a place where specifically the majority are Canaanites and that maybe also in a place that the majority is Israelite it’s like that. 9. Aharon Yeah. That’s one question. The second question, , do the, ah…Rabbis 10. Gavriel disagree with him 11. Aharon Where do the Rabbis disagree 12. Gavriel or not. And then if you say they disagree where the majority are Israelite then…yeah. If they disagree where the majority is Israelite then certainly they disagree where the majority is Canaanite. Or or not disagree . Ah, no, that's not… If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites they would certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites 13. Aharon Alright, they'll explain it, like… 14. Gavriel Alright, fine. 15. Aharon And if you come to the conclusion that [he said this] also where the majority are Israelites do the Rabbis disagree with him or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree with him, they would certainly disagree where the majority are Israelites. Where the majority are Canaanites, do they disagree or not? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree even where the majority are Canaanites, is the law in accordance with his view

348 16. Gavriel Or is the law not in accordance with his view 17. Aharon is the law in accordance with his view or is the law not in accordance with his view? And if you come to the conclusion that the law is in accordance with his view, does this apply only to the case where the majority are Canaanites, or also the case where the majority are Israelites? Come and hear. Alright. That's. Like they don't say anything. Do they disagree 18. Gavriel do the Rabbis disagree with him 19. Aharon or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree 20. Gavriel Yeah, where the majority are Israelites they certainly disagree, where the majority are Canaanites do they disagree or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion they disagree even where the majority are Canaanites, is the law in accordance with his view or is the law not in accordance with his view? It's… 21. Aharon There's a flowchart here. It's as if it says, as a topic it says …these are his . Right? And then…one who recovers etcetera, alright, fine. Okay. And then this, this, is it a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority. 22. Gavriel Fine. This is Canaanite majority and Israelite majority. Why it says majority like this, I don't know. 23. Aharon What? 24. Gavriel Doesn't matter. Anyway, now maybe it's fine. Or perhaps he also said it regarding a case where the majority are Israelites? If you come to the conclusion even where the majority is Israelite 25. Aharon he also said it 26. Gavriel Then the Rabbis disagree 27. Aharon And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree, where there is an Israelite majority they certainly disagree, where there is a Canaanite majority do they disagree or do they not disagree? 28. Gavriel And if you come to the conclusion 29. Aharon that they disagree 30. Gavriel they disagree where the majority are Israelite . Here you have another split. They disagree. Where the majority 31. Aharon Where there's an Israelite majority or where there's a Canaanite majority. 32. Gavriel [unclear] 33. Aharon Here they disagree where the majority is Canaanite 34. Gavriel Or do they not disagree. 35. Aharon No. No. There's no, no answer that they don't disagree. 36. Gavriel Ever y place that… 37. Aharon Where the majority is Israelite they certainly disagree, where the majority is Canaanite do they disagree or not. Or perhaps he said it even in a case where the majority are Israelite? If you come to the conclusion that he said it even in a case where the majority are Israelite, do the Rabbis disagree with him or do they not disagree? 38. Gavriel Or do they not disagree? 39. Aharon And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree, where there is an Israelite majority they certainly disagree, where there is a Canaanite majority do they disagree or do they not disagree? And if

349 you come to the conclusion that they disagree even where there is a Canaanite majority, then yeah, then after that it turns into two. 40. Gavriel Or do they disagre e 41. Aharon It's like it relates just to one side, do you understand? Each time. 42. Gavriel Yeah. Now it's they disagree where the majority is Israelite? 43. Aharon They disagree where the majority is Canaa- 44. Gavriel They disagree where the majority is Canaanite 45. Aharon Yes. Or do they not disagree where the majority is Canaanite. 46. Gavriel Or do they not disagree where the majority is Canaanite. And…sure. Yeah. And if they disagree where the majority is Canaanite, that means that we have here another split, is the law in accordance with his view (lit . like him ), I don't know who is like him. 47. Aharon The law is according to Rabbi Elazar. Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 48. Gavriel Yeah. If the law is like like him, then - 49. Aharon If you come to the conclusion that he said it even in a case where the majority are Israelite, do the Rabbis disagree with him or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites, they certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites. If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites, they certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanites. 50. Gavriel If you come to the conclusion that they disagree where the majority are Israelites they certainly… they certainly disagree 51. Aharon It seems to me, they disagree about a majority – Israelite they definitely disagree, about a Canaanite majority. Ah, if you say that the Rabbis disagree with him, then where there is an Israelite majority they certainly disagree with him. But where the majority are Canaanites, do they disagree or do they not disagree. 52. Gavriel Yeah. 53. Aharon Where is it? Where is it that it said that they don't disagree with him? 54. Gavriel We skipped some stage. Do the Rabbis disagree or do the Rabbis not disagree. And if 55. Aharon And if you say that the Rabbis disagree, then where the majority is Canaanite either…either they disagree with him or they don't disagree with him. But…where the majority is Israelite they definitely disagree with him. No. If where the majority is Israelite they disagree with him, then where the majority is Canaanite they either disagree with him or they don't disagree with him. And if they disagree with him about Canaanites 56. Gavriel Yeah 57. Aharon If they disagree with him about Israelites 58. Gavriel We have to stick something else in here 59. Aharon It's like the…[unclear] so it's like. Here. Here we have to write, or they disagree with him where the majority are Israelite. So that means if they disagree with him where the majority are Israelite, then here it's clear that they…ah…disagree with him. 60. Gavriel If they disagree where the majority are Israelite then they certainly disagree where the majority are Canaanite. 61. Aharon Yeah.

350 62. Gavriel Alright. I don't know where to stick this so it doesn't matter, I'll organize it for a second, and it, and at the end 63. Aharon Do the Rabbis disagree with him or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree, where the majority are Israelite they certainly disagree, where the majority are Canaanite do they disagree or do they not disagree? And if you come to the conclusion that they disagree even where the majority are Canaanites 64. Gavriel Canaanites, is the law in accordance with his view or is the law not in accordance with his view? 65. Aharon Yes. 66. Gavriel And if you come to the conclusion that the law is in accordance with his view , then the law is specifically when the majority are Canaanites or even when the majority are Israelites. Specifically when there is a Canaanite majority or specifically where there is an Israelite majority. Alright. This flowchart is very impressive. I didn't understand anything from it. I didn't understand what… 67. Aharon It's like it's preparation. 68. Gavriel What's that? It's preparation like for what we're going to learn? 69. Aharon First of all, um, they clarify…just, it just brings us, Rabbi Elazar, Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, yes? Without telling us if the law is according to him or the law isn't according to him. What case he's talking about, yeah. 70. Gavriel Yeah. 71. Aharon And then after they say all these things it brings the come and hear . 72. Gavriel Alright. Come and hear: If one finds money in a Synagogue or a house of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to the finder, because the owner has despaired. Now, who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not R. Shimon b. Elazar? Who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not R. Shimon b. Elazar? Who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority, that's like who said it? From whom he heard about it? What is it in terms of ah… 73. Aharon From where do you know that we go according to the majority. It seems to me. How do I know? From Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. You must therefore conclude that [he applies this principle] also to a case where the majority are Israelites. Yeah. From the fact that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, it interests him if there's if it is an Israelite majority or not an Israelite majority, from this I know that we, that it's – that we care. 74. Gavriel If it's an Israelite majority or not an Israelite majority. 75. Aharon If it's the place where crowds are frequent it means 76. Gavriel That it's an Israelite majority, so it belongs to the finder 77. Aharon Yes. From where do you know, Rashi says. That we go according to the majority, meaning that in the law of found objects, it goes according to the principle of crowds are frequent there. How do I know that…that regarding a found object. Ah…like, they say, this "come and hear," If one finds money in a Synagogue or a house of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to

351 the finder . 78. Gavriel What is that based on? 79. Aharon On t he law that the majority, that…that in…that in synagogues, the majority is Israelite. 80. Gavriel Yeah. 81. Aharon And so, because it's a case where the majority is Israelite 82. Gavriel [unclear] 83. Aharon Yeah. As long as it's an Israelite majority then it, then it has to be that there's despair on the part of the owner. And therefore, like, the reason that they say about it, the reason that they say why, why synagogues, it belongs to him, because the majority there are Israelite 84. Gavriel Yeah, it's an Israelite majority 85. Aharon Now from where do you know, from where do you know that there's a law like this at all regarding found objects that we care what, what the majority is 86. Gavriel So it says about Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar who says 87. Aharon Yeah. 88. Gavriel [unclear] 89. Aharon It quotes him 90. Gavriel Also where the majority are Israelites …what's this abbreviation? 91. Aharon Eh…what are we dealing with here 92. Gavriel What are we dealing with here? A case [where the money was found] scattered. 93. Aharon If [the money was] scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! 94. Gavriel If [the money was] scattered 95. Aharon why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! 96. Gavriel Rather, it is referring to [money found in] bundles. When we talk about the fact that we ask if it is an Israelite majority or a Canaanite majority, we're talking about bundles, we're talking here about bundles. And if, if it was scattered, then it wouldn't matter what it is, then definitely like there was despair on the part of the owner. And what are we dealing with here? 97. Aharon That they are bundles and then like we say if it isn't a bundle then we don't care if it's 98. Gavriel If it's a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority 99. Aharon Yes. But, if it's a bundle then we care, then, and then, and then it really matters to us if crowds are frequent there. And then it depends which crowds. If it's Canaanites then he despairs because the Canaanites will take it. And if it's an Israelite majority then he doesn't despair. Okay. 100. Gavriel And what are we dealing with here? With kenesiyyot (contemporary term for churches) of Canaanites. And what are we dealing with here? With batei kenesiyyot (term for synagogues) of Canaanites. 101. Aharon But how can this be applied to ‘houses of study’? – [The reference is to] our houses of study in which Canaanites stay. Fine. That's it. Synagogues, let's say synagogues of Canaanites.

352 102. Gavriel Yeah? 103. Aharon But houses of study, that's only Jewish. What, but our house of study . Our houses of study in which Canaanites sit. What does that mean? In which Canaanites stay, that they were outside of the city and they would put Canaanites there to guard . Oho…you see Rashi? 104. Gavriel No. In which Canaanites stay, that they were outside of the city and they would put Canaanites there to guard . What does that mean? It's their houses of study? 105. Aharon Houses of study, no. Our houses of study. 106. Gavriel Ah. But they put there to - 107. Aharon They put a guard there because…yeah, it's outside of the city so they put a non-Jew (Heb. goy ) to guard. Because the non-Jew is there then then ah…then in a place like that they would be concerned. 108. Gavriel Just a minute, it isn't…why are they concerned? But it isn't, it isn't a Canaanite majority there. 109. Aharon But there are Canaanites there. 110. Gavriel What there are Canaanites there? Houses of study. It's a kind of a beit midrash . So at the entrance there are two Canaanite guards, that isn't, it isn't a Canaanite majority. There's like nothing to be concerned about, it isn't like… 111. Aharon It seems to me, the intent maybe, that it's houses of study [unclear] that…it was empty for a certain amount of time so they needed someone to guard. 112. Gavriel Like, it's outside of the city? 113. Aharon In any case…they're there all the time, the guards. They see [unclear], therefore he despairs. Because there are guards there, a Canaanite guard. Therefore he despairs. The fact that there's a Canaanite guard, 114. Gavriel Yeah 115. Aharon Therefore he despairs. Which is what we said, synagogues, houses of study. Why does it belong to him [the finder]? Because there are Canaanites there. 116. Gavriel Now that you have arrived at this conclusion, ‘synagogues’ [can] also [be explained as meaning] our synagogues in which Canaanites stay. 117. Aharon Okay, come and hear: if one finds 118. Gavriel If one finds therein a lost object 119. Aharon If the majority are Israelites – if one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites he is obligated to announce, but if the majority are Canaanites he is not obligated to announce. 120. Gavriel What's he found therein a lost object ? 121. Aharon In it. He found in it. It is a Mishnah in the Taharot order, in a city in which Israelites and Canaanites dwell, in tractate Makhshirin. 122. Gavriel And he found in that city? 123. Aharon Meaning, in some particular city that… 124. Gavriel Yeah, that's a mixed city. 125. Aharon Yeah. Some sort of Acre. 126. Gavriel If one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites he is obligated to announce, but if the majority are Canaanites he is not obligated to announce. Because the majority are Canaanites so the

353 owner despairs. 127. Aharon Now who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority – so from where do you know? 128. Gavriel It implies 129. Aharon Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. Infer from here that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says this only where the majority are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites. Whose view is this? The Rabbis. 130. Gavriel Whose view is this? The Rabbis. 131. Aharon But then you could conclude therefrom that the Rabbis agree with Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar . Ah. And then they ask according to whom is this Mishnah? According to the Rabbis. If so – then the Rabbis also think like Rabbi El- Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar who say that also [unclear] the majority 132. Gavriel What? They don’t disagree? 133. Aharon They agree with him, that the Rabbis agree with Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar in a case where the majority are Canaanites. Rather, this represents the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar 134. Gavriel the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, and even in a case where the majority are Israelites 135. Aharon And what are we dealing with here 136. Gavriel With [a case where the money was] concealed. With concealed. Since he concealed it, it isn’t a lost object, therefore where the majority are Israelites, one must announce it. He did find it. But what difference does it make if it’s concealed or not? In any case, if now we’re dealing with concealed, if it’s concealed then in an Israelite majority he would be obligated to announce. Concealed isn’t, it isn’t a lost object. It’s like 137. Aharon It’s not a lost object that someone despairs of it. It’s, someone hid it and then if he found it he has to return it. 138. Gavriel But if it’s an Israelite majority then even if it isn’t concealed like, even if it isn’t concealed he isn’t supposed to despair. It doesn’t make a difference. Like we’re talking here like about two things. It’s talking here also about an Israelite majority and also about concealed. Because fundamentally, what interests us is the Israelite majority. Bottom line – it doesn’t matter if it’s concealed or not. 139. Aharon No, at the beginning they say, this Mishnah should be like the Rabbis. Then they say no. It’s like Rabbi Shimon. Rabbi, Rabbi Shimon says and why even where the majority is Israelite – even where the majority is Israelite it belongs to him. Yes? 140. Gavriel Yeah. 141. Aharon Why is it his? No, why is he obligated, it says, even when the majority is Israelite he is obligated to announce, and why why why, Rabbi Shimon just plain says that he doesn’t have to announce. When the majority is Canaanite. 142. Gavriel Yeah. 143. Aharon At the time that he despairs. So the Mishnah says, one who found a lost object, if the majority is Israelite he is obligated to announce. If the majority is Canaanite, he isn’t obligated to announce. It implies then that it’s yes. It sounds like Rabbi Shimon in fact…. even where

354 the maj ority is Israelite. Even where the majority is I sraelite he is not obligated to announce. But why in the Mishnah here, that is really specific (or: limited), why in fact here do…do they say that he is obligated to announce where the majority are Israelites? 144. Gavriel Why? 145. Aharon Because it’s talking about concealed. 146. Gavriel One minute, again, again. Again. 147. Aharon Just like that – the Mishnah says if it’s an Israelite majority 148. Gavriel Yeah? 149. Aharon Then he is obligated to announce. And if it isn’t an Israelite majority – if the majority are Canaanites – he isn’t obligated to announce. 150. Gavriel Because he despaired. 151. Aharon Then that sounds like the Rabbis. Meaning, they say no, it isn’t like the Rabbis. It’s like Rabbi Shimon. That Rabbi Shimon says 152. Gavriel The Rabbis, the Rabbis said it also about the Israelite majority. That if it’s an Israelite majority, he’s obligated to announce, if it isn’t an Israelite majority, he isn’t obligated to announce. Right? 153. Aharon No, it sounds to me like the Rabbis not at all. They’re against this system of the majority. Like, they tried to prove here, the Rabbis also, ah, the majority doesn’t interest them. That’s from this Mishnah. They say no, it’s not even the Rabbis. It’s Rabbi Shimon, this Mishnah. And Rabbi Shimon says, even Rabbi Shimon says, even where it is an Israelite majority 154. Gavriel Yeah? 155. Aharon Then he is not obligated to announce. But the isn’t…then Rabbi Shimon doesn’t work out with the Mishnah. It can’t say that this Mishnah is like Rabbi Shimon. 156. Gavriel Why, why do you think that the Mishnah doesn’t work out with the Rabbis? 157. Aharon At first they said it’s the Rabbis. They say no, it isn’t the Rabbis. It’s Rabbi Shimon. But it doesn’t work out with Rabbi Shimon. 158. Gavriel Why doesn’t it work out with Rabbi Shimon? 159. Aharon Because Rabbi Shimon says even where the majority is Israelite, he also is not obligated to announce. 160. Gavriel Yeah? 161. Aharon Then, ah… Gavriel, but in the Mishnah here they say that if it’s an Israelite majority then he is yes obligated to announce. They say. The Mishnah here is talking about concealed, but with concealed, even if it’s, if it’s where the majority is Israelite then he’s obligated to announce and if it’s a Canaanite majority then he’s not obligated. 162. Gavriel I don’t understand it. Rabbi Shimon said. Rabbi Shimon is talking about the majority so he like we’re talking here in the Mishnah, this Mishnah we’re talking about the majority. If it’s an Israelite majority, he should announce. If it’s not an Israelite majority, if it’s a Canaanite majority, then he doesn’t have to announce. And then it says, and then the gemara says no, it isn’t like Rabbi Shimon. Then the gemara says it isn’t like Rabbi Shimon. Because here it’s talking about concealed or not concealed. 163. Aharon No. It is yes Rabbi Shimon. But why does this Mishnah not look to us

355 like Rabbi Shimon? Because it’s talking about concealed. 164. Gavriel Therefore Rabbi Shimon didn’t talk, didn’t talk about concealed then the fact that it…alright. Okay…yeah. 165. Aharon It seems to me. Despite the fact that it, like according to Rabbi Shimon at the beginning, what he says, If one rescues anything from a lion, a bear, a leopard, any place that are frequent, where crowds are frequent, it belongs to him. It’s impossible to know really what he thinks. And they are trying to guess like what 166. Gavriel It’s impossible to know what he thinks really 167. Aharon They decided that…I don’t know. The gemara decided that Rabbi Shimon is of the opinion [that] the majority [is the determining factor]. It doesn’t, it doesn’t sound like that. 168. Gavriel What does that mean? He says, any place where crowds are frequent. 169. Aharon Nu? 170. Gavriel So Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says that. First of all, he mentions the crowds. It’s not that the gemara makes it up. 171. Aharon Crowds ( rabbim ). Not the majority ( harov ). He says every place the crowds. Every place that is a public place that he says that he announced there so he despairs. The owner despairs and then they belong to him [the finder]. That the owners despair. And then the gemara says, Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar said where the majority is Canaanite, but where the majority…yeah, maybe you’ll say it’s just where the majority are Canaanites, but where the majority is Israelite, no. You understand? 172. Gavriel So the gemara doesn’t make it up. It’s actually demanded. In general he says any place where crowds gather. It’s not fair. So crowds are there. Who said that he said it specifically like, it’s logical that he would say it in…it’s logical that he would say it if it's a majority ah…where the majority are Canaanites he wouldn't say here that the crowds are there. Apparently he said first of all that the crowds are there specifically where there's an Israelite majority. But not where the majority are Canaanites. 173. Aharon Why [would the text say] these belong to him, so say that it's specifically where there's a majority. 174. Gavriel Like, specifically 175. Aharon Where the majority are Canaanites. 176. Gavriel Yeah. These belong to him, specifically where the majority are Canaanites, but if it's where the majority are Israelite, then he won't say it. 177. Aharon That's an option. But it doesn't have to be. It doesn't. it's like they said, can it be right? They asked. That whole, whole chart that we said. Maybe if, i…if Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says what, he's talking about in a case that it's a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority. And if he's talking about an Israelite majority then do the Rabbis disagree with him or not disagree with him? Yes? What do the Rabbis think? Regarding the majority? Yeah. Then they say if…with the majority [like] this. Then whether the law is according to him or we'll know specifically…like, you understand 178. Gavriel I don't understand, what did you say, again…

356 179. Aharon They rais e all kinds of conjectures [regarding] what, what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks. 180. Gavriel Yeah? 181. Aharon Regarding majority. But they don’t decide it. And then suddenly and then like they try to decide what he thinks but like they start out with the assumption that they know what he thinks…I don’t know...what…how to read it like after after they say come and hear: one who finds money in synagogues and in houses of study , and…and…and…and, these belong to him, because the owner has despaired. And then they say, who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority . Like they ask, from where do you know that it goes according to the majority? 182. Gavriel Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 183. Aharon Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 184. Gavriel You must conclude from here, you must conclude from here, even in a place where the majority is Israelite. Then it says yes, because it’s houses of study and then we see that it’s 185. Aharon that it’s definitely Israelite 186. Gavriel What are we dealing with here? A case [where the money was found] scattered. If [the money was] scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! 187. Aharon Ah. Then it’s like it’s a difficulty on the position of Rabbi Shimon? It says, if you say, if Rabbi Shimon says that any place where the majority is Israelite, then he is obligated to announce, but if it’s a Canaanite majority then ah then they say here, I’m showing you a place where it’s an Israelite majority definitely because it’s houses of study and synagogues and houses of study. That’s definitely an Israelite majority. And nonetheless it belongs to him [the finder]. 188. Gavriel Fine, and then the gemara ans…and then the gemara answers (or: resolves) it. 189. Aharon Alright. So let’s start with an assumption that that’s really what Rabbi Shimon thinks. 190. Gavriel Okay. 191. Aharon Like, Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, if it’s an Israelite majority then he’s obligated to announce, and if it isn’t an Israelite majority, if it’s where the majority are Canaanites, then he is not obligated to announce. Then like we see in the Mishnah from the Mishnah this Mishnah that even when it’s an Israelite majority, these belong to him. And they say to him, you can’t prove from this Mishnah, what are we dealing with here, with scattered. With scattered. Yes? The money is scattered. If it is scattered 192. Gavriel It appears, it comes here like a by the way because it isn’t really connected to this. It doesn’t really come. Look, in this answer the gemara says, any place where crowds gather , and then it says, you must conclude from here, even in a place where the majority is Israelite. 193. Aharon About houses of study and that’s even where the majority is Israelite. 194. Gavriel We talked about a Canaanite majority, it’s like it’s then all of a

357 sudden it says, scattered . 195. Aharon What’s the place of this Mishnah? Does it come to challenge, does it come to this? 196. Gavriel It comes to challenge the position of thi…the…it seems to me. Like you said. Comes to challenge on the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar…no? 197. Aharon But it really does challenge. 198. Gavriel Right. But the gemara says something else. The gemara like answers bottom line it seems to me this answer is a drop unrelated. What are we dealing with? A case of scattered. If [the money was] scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! Rather, it is a case of bundles , and then now the answer is related. And what are we dealing with here? With synagogues of Canaanites. Houses of study. That answers the…question for us. 199. Aharon No, like it seems to me, it seems to me they say, no, don’t say that it’s with scattered. Scattered, it seems to me to say that scattered…and…and…these belong to him . Yes? That even the Rabbis say that it’s so, Rashi says, and it is the Rabbis, who agree regarding scattered, as it says in the Mishnah, scattered money belongs to him (the finder) . If you say that they’re scattered then it’s like the other Mishnah that we have that…that the Rabbis say it’s his. Yes? 200. Gavriel Yeah. 201. Aharon So therefore also here they say that it’s his because it’s talking about scattered here also. And then, and then they ask, then they say no, you can’t answer that. If [the money was] scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? If it’s scattered, then what difference does it make if the place, if crowds gather there? Thatere’s the other Mishnah, yes? 202. Gavriel Yes? 203. Aharon That talks about scattered money so it says that t hey belong to him in any case. It doesn’t matter if crowds gather there or not. 204. Gavriel Right…yeah. Rather, it is a case of bundles . The gemara is talking about bundles. And what are we dealing with here? with synagogues of Canaanites. But how can this be applied to ‘houses of study’? – [The reference is to] our houses of study in which heathens stay. Now that you have arrived at this conclusion ‘synagogues’ [can] also [be explained as meaning] our synagogues in which heathens stay. Fine, so so we summarized it so like we finished now…basically, we have to hurry up. 205. Aharon So that’s what they answer in the end? That…that the synagogues and houses of study that that’s altogether Canaanites’? 206. Gavriel Yeah. Even though it’s strange. Like, there’s no lack of synagogues. The Mishnah talks specifically about synagogues and houses of study of Canaanites and not of Jews? Like, bottom line, generally it’s synagogues and houses of study of ah…this 207. Aharon Like, it seems to me more that what they are coming to say, what are synagogues and houses of study. That’s like an example of a place where crowds ga…gather. And not specifically Israelite because it

358 could also be Canaanite. Synagogues ( batei kenesiyyot , lit. “houses of gathering”) is a place where people gather ( mitkansim ). It doesn’t have to be ah a synagogue ( beit kenesset , the word used in modern Hebrew to denote synagogue). 208. Gavriel Okay. Come and hear: If one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites 209. Aharon Just a minute, so what’s the conclusion in the meantime? 210. Gavriel That we follow… 211. Aharon That Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar works out, like? 212. Gavriel Yeah. 213. Aharon He says really 214. Gavriel really we do follow (lit.: go after) 215. Aharon really we follow the majority. 216. Gavriel afte r the majority. After an Israelite majority. 217. Aharon One minute, so what? That was difficult for us, it was difficult for his position because in a place where the majority is Israelite, they belong to him, and then they answer. 218. Gavriel They answer th at it isn’t an Israelite majority there, the majority are Canaanites there. 219. Aharon In the end they answer that it doesn’t have to be that it’s an Israelite majority. It could also be a Canaanite majority. 220. Gavriel Right. 221. Aharon You can’t prove from th at. 222. Gavriel Yeah. 223. Aharon Come and hear: If one finds therein a lost object, then if the majority are Israelites 224. Gavriel he is obligated to announce 225. Aharon he is obligated to announce, if the majority are Canaanites, he is not obligated to announce. Now who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar? Infer from here that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says this only where the majority are Canaanites, but not where the majority are Israelites. Whose view is this? The Rabbis. But then you could conclude therefrom that the Rabbis accept Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar's view 226. Gavriel They say, they like that that’s what the Rabbis say? 227. Aharon I think. [unclear]. Whose view is this? According to whom is this Mishnah? 228. Gavriel Where do the Rabbis say that? 229. Aharon No, there’s a Mishnah. They bring a Mishnah. They say that…they bring a Mishnah that talks about a Canaanite majority and an Israelite majority. 230. Gavriel Yeah. 231. Aharon According to whom is this Mishnah? According to the Rabbis. 232. Gavriel They don’t say that it’s according to the Rabbis. They say that it’s according to Rabbi El- According to Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 233. Aharon No, afterwards they say. Whose view is this? The Rabbis. 234. Gavriel Ah. 235. Aharon But then you could conclude therefrom that the Rabbis accept R abbi

359 Shimon ben Ela zar's view . Here you see. It brings a mishnah that looks like it’s the Rabbis’. Yes? 236. Gavriel According to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 237. Aharon They say no. This position is yes that of, it isn’t the Rabbis’. It’s Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar’s. Rather, this represents the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, and even in a case where the majority are Israelites, and what are we dealing with here? With [a case where the money was] concealed. With concealed…if the majority is Israelite, he’s obligated to announce, if the majority are Canaanites, he is not obligated to announce. 238. Gavriel Rather, this represents the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, and even in a case where the majority are Israelites, and what are we dealing with here? With [a case where the money was] concealed. 239. Aharon What even in a case where the majority are Israelites ? What’s also with an Israelite majority? …[it’s a] question. 240. Gavriel Like you understand from here that even where the majority is Israelite, they belong to him. That’s what you understand from here, no? 241. Aharon Eh. Yeah. 242. Gavriel And that’s not according to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. So that’s not what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar said. 243. Aharon Right. But that isn’t what the Mishnah says. The Mishnah says where there’s an Israelite majority, he has to announce. A majority of Canaanites, he doesn’t have to announce. It’s classic to rabbi Shimon ben Elazar’s position. So they say even, Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, and even where the majority is Israelite, also. 244. Gavriel But what also where the majority is Israelite? 245. Aharon I don’t know. It like it just…just ah…complicates it. Complicates itself. 246. Gavriel Yeah. We said that the Mishnah is on the Mishnah of the Rabbis. And it’s exactly like the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. And then the gemara says, no, it’s really a Mishnah of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. Right? 247. Aharon Yeah. 248. Gavriel And ev- and then it says and even where there is an Israelite majority also because we learn from the gemara , even where the majority is Israelite, they belong to him . That that’s not what the Mishnah says. It’s also not the Mishnah of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar…the gemara tells us, yes? Whose view is this? This is the view of the Rabbis . You could conclude therefrom that the Rabbis agree with Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar in a case where the majority are Canaanites . Um the gemara says that it’s the same thing. Yes? The…the Mishnah then is according to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. So they don’t disagree. It says no. This represents the view of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar . It’s the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. And even, and then it says yes. And even in a case where the majority is Israelite, also . What’s and even in a case where the majority is Israelite, also ? What’s this…this issue? 249. Aharon It seems like even where there’s an Israelite majority, not, what,

360 Rabbi Shimon thinks even where the majority is Is - where the majority is Israelite, also also he doesn’t have to announce, yes? That’s what it seems like. 250. Gavriel Because they belong to him . 251. Aharon Like Canaanites. They belong to him. 252. Gavriel That’s not according to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 253. Aharon What? 254. Gavriel And that’s not according to the position of Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. Because here we, it says also where the majority is Israelite, they belong to him. 255. Aharon [unclear]. [pause]. I’ll go ask Rav Uzi. 256. Gavriel Fine. 257. Aharon (Fourteen minutes later) Basically. We didn’t understand so correctly before. 258. Gavriel Everything? We didn’t understand everything correctly? 259. Aharon Rabbi Shimon says like what he says, he’s talking about a case where…where crowds gather. 260. Gavriel Yeah. 261. Aharon The la ws that it says at the beginning in the Mishnah, one who recovers [an object] from a lion , blah, blah, blah…he’s talking about a case where…crowds gather, and then, then, th…and then they say, and then he says and then he says, these belong to him [the finder] . And then they ask if it makes a difference which crowds are there, if it’s a majority of Canaanites or Israelite, and so on. They suggest all kinds of things and now they’re trying to prove…alright. So now they’re trying to, like to try to prove that…that Rabbi Shimon thinks in the case of a majority of Jews or a majority of ah…Canaanites. You understand? 262. Gavriel Yeah. 263. Aharon If one finds money in a synagogue or a house of study, or in any other place where crowds are frequent, it belongs to him (the finder), because the owner has despaired. Now, who is the authority that lays it down that we go according to the majority if not Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar? You must therefore conclude that [he applies this principle] also to a case where the majority are Israelites! Yes? They’re trying to say here, you see, a place where it’s an Israelite majority, they specifically say that it’s an Israelite majority, which is synagogues and houses of study, then he has to announce. Yes? But, but b-but in the case that it was let’s say a majority of Canaanites, then he doesn’t have to announce. Doesn’t have to be. What are we dealing with here? With scattered. If with scattered, why refer to places where crowds are frequent? It would apply also to places where crowds are not frequent! Therefore, [the reference is to money found] in bundles, but we deal here with Synagogues of Canaanites...Houses of study etcetera etcetera. And they say that it’s synagogues and houses of study, it doesn’t have to be specifically - 264. Gavriel specifically [those] of Jews. 265. Aharon specifically [those] of Jews. And therefore it doesn’t prove that Rabbi Shimon thinks specifically that it’s so. So they try to prove Come and

361 hear: If one found therein a lost object, if the majority are Isra elite, he is obligated to announce, if the majority are Canaanites, he is not obligated to announce . They are trying basically to say like there must be someone who…who thinks that…that you distinguish bet- between a majority of Israelites and a majority of Canaanites. Yes? Because the Mishnah explicitly talks about if it’s a Canaanite majority or an Israelite majority. 266. Gavriel Yeah. 267. Aharon So even if you say that it’s…that it’s like Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar says, that you distinguish, but nonetheless, because it’s the Rabbis. They try to prove that there’s such a thing as a majority of Canaantites or an Israelite majority. This Mishnah is talking explicitly about the Canaanite majority or Israelite majority so… 268. Gavriel Right. 269. Aharon So according to whom is it? And then they say it’s the Rabbis. If it’s, then the Rabbis agree with Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar when the majority is Canaanite. They say, therefore, this represents the view of R. Shimon ben Elazar, and his ruling applies also to a case where the majority are Israelites, and what are we dealing with here . They say no. Rabbi Shimon thinks that even when the majority is Israelite, ah, these, these belong to him. Yes? And then he says always, if it’s, if there are a lot of people there, then they belong to him. So it doesn’t make a difference if it’s an Israelite majority or a Canaanite majority. And this Mishnah, yes? It doesn’t prove anything at all. Why? Because it’s talking about a different case. It isn’t talking about that there are ah…a lot of people there. It isn’t talking about our topic (sugya ) at all. It’s talking about [a case of] concealed. That concealed is a different issue. Yes? Like all, our sugya is talking about a case where there are a lot of people there. And then they try to say that…they try to prove that when there are a lot of people it makes a difference which which people are there. If it’s a majority of Jews or a majority of Canaanites. But the concl- but the conclusion like, in the meantime, it’s impossible to prove that it’s that it’s a majority of Canaanites or an Israelite majority. In the meantime, Rabbi Shimon thinks that these belong to him. Yes, what he said at the beginning. It’s like we understand like from the beginning that it’s ah…in any case, any place that there are a lot of people, these belong to him. Why? Because the Mishnah this Mishnah thinks, this Mishnah is talking about [a case of] concealed. And whatare we dealing with here? With concealed. If with concealed, what has [the finder] to do with it? And then they ask like for…for the case itself, if it’s concealed then why should he take it, he should leave it concealed. Yes? Someone hid it. He didn’t despair of it. Yes? They say, But if it was concealed, what has [the finder] to do with it? Have we not learnt: 'if one finds a vessel in a dungheap, if covered up he may not touch it; but if uncovered he must take it and announce it'? — As Rav Papa explained: [The reference is] to a dungheap which is not regularly cleared away . They say, this is talking about when does he leave it? In, in, in a dungheap that they don’t clear away. But in…and [the owner] unexpectedly decided , and then they say when is it

362 talking about, when does he have to take it? A dungheap which is not regularly cleared away. And [the owner] unexpectedly decided to clear it . Yes? This means that the person who…who hid there the…the…like the…his object, so he hid it because he thought that they don’t clear it away. That he can come and take it. But then all of a sudden in an unusual case then ah…all of a sudden they decided to clear it away nonetheless, therefore, he doesn’t have anything left to do. He has to take it. Yes? So here also [the reference is] to a dungheap which is not regularly cleared away, and which [the owner] unexpectedly decided to clear away. It says, so our Mishnah is talking about a case where he had to take it because if he wouldn’t take it, then they would take it together with the dungheap and if he 270. Gavriel Yeah 271. Aharon and if he takes it, he can’t take it for himself . He is obligated to announce. In a case like this, it matters who is the majority. In a case like this of, in which it was concealed and he had to take it then if it’s, if it’s an Israelite majority then he is obligated to announce, and if the majority are Canaanites then he isn’t obligated to announce. 272. Gavriel So like we…we proved it now? It isn’t 273. Aharon So it isn’t a proof. There’s no proof from the - it’s impossible to know what Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks. It could be that he thinks that…that…it could be that he thinks that it matters to us, the majority, but in the meantime what, but in the meantime what he says is like it seems at the beginning. 274. Gavriel Yeah? 275. Aharon He says, any place where crowds gather, or that he despairs in a very very…extreme case that this one despairs, then these belong to him. He’s not talking specifically re- regarding an Israelite majority or a Canaanite majority, despite the fact that there’s an issue that the majority are Israelite and the majority are Canaanites but not in…not in a place where crowds gather, rather only in a specific place 276. Gavriel Okay. And if you wish I will say: Admittedly, admittedly this is the view of the Rabbis …just a minute, one second. They belong to him. It says he has not to announce them he lets it lie and an Israelite comes and indicates an identification mark in it and receives it…I didn’t understand how to read it properly. 277. Aharon So say maybe that this Mishnah is talking according to the Rabbis but is it stated, they belong to him he is not obligated to announce…it is stated but it is stated it is his he is not obligated to announce it. And an Israelite comes and indicates an identification mark in it and receives it. 278. Gavriel He is not obligated to announce. And Israelite will come and bring an identifying feature of it? 279. Aharon No. They didn’t tell you that it’s yours. In the Mishnah. But just that you’re not obligated to announce. 280. Gavriel So he like leaves it there? That’s the thing? 281. Aharon I don’t understand exactly what he does. Since the majority are Canaanites perhaps it is a Canaanite’s and it also isn’t his because the Rabbis do not follow the majority in monetary law. Since it’s a

363 majority of Canaanites it didn’t become, it isn’t his…basically, it seems to me like he just, he puts it down and then and an Israelite comes and indicates an identification mark in it and receives it. He doesn’t need to announce but like if an Israelite comes and asks for identifying features then he has to give it to him. 282. Gavriel Okay. 283. Aharon Because it’s a majority of Canaanites he doesn’t have to announce. 284. Gavriel But he has to take it, like? 285. Aharon But he also, he can’t take it for himself. 286. Gavriel He takes it. It is located with him. He doesn’t have to announce. But 287. Aharon He’s prohibited to, like he’s prohibited from using it, something like that. 288. Gavriel Yeah. 289. Aharon But what does that prove?...what, what does it prove, I don’t understand. 290. Gavriel Why is it [unclear]? And regarding something which is not concealed, and one cannot extrapolate from here, that they agree with him where the majority are Canaanites. 291. Aharon So let’s continue, we’ll see. Maybe it will help. Come and hear: Rav Assi said: If one finds a barrel of wine in a town where the majority are Canaanites 292. Gavriel No, wait, wait. We have to stop. Rav Uzi said until here. 293. Aharon That means that here we’re supposed to have an answer? Rav Uzi is still here. 294. Gavriel Alright. He said 11:35. 295. Aharon Are you coming to class? They’ve started going. 296. Gavriel We didn’t understand, we di - didn’t understand the end here. Right? 297. Aharon Right. It’s like a different way to understand the Mishnah. 298. Gavriel Yeah. Maybe yes. No- 299. Aharon One answer for the Mishnah is that it’s talking about concealed. The second answer, I didn’t understand it. 300. Gavriel Fine. Good job.

364 APPENDIX D: Class Session Transcript

1. Student 1: It's not connected. It's a question where the majority are Canaanites, why you need despair. 2. Student 2: Yeah. 3. Student 1: But why with an Is raelite majority do you also need despair? I don't know why you need despair. Why do you need despair in this case at all? Like if you need despair, then why does despair help, because we don't know, because it could be unconscious despair. 4. Student 2: Right. 5. Student 1: And if and if not, why do you need despair? 6. Student 3: Also according to Israelite 7. Student 1: Yeah. 8. Student 2: No, it isn't connected. 9. Student 1: Why you need despair. 10. Student 2: Nu, so why do you need despair where the majority are Canaanites? 11. Student 12: Why do you need despair at all? It doesn't matter. Why do they [unclear] that the owner despairs? 12. Student 3: But it's talking about a Canaanite majority. That's what you're asking 13. Student: (background) Is there class no w? 14. Student 1: What? 15. Student 3: That's what you're asking. 16. Student 1: It's a very ah…like localized question. Why don't you say that…because…maybe it fell from a Canaanite? 17. Student 2: Nu? 18. Student 3: We don't even have any - 19. Student: Something more general. 20. Student 1: Yeah. It isn't general. It doesn't have to be despair at all, like. 21. Student 2: Now look at what the Tosafot says, in any case. 22. Student 1: Even if he knows with certainty that it fell from an Israelite, it says 'these belong to him,' that the one who lost it despairs and says that Canaanites took it, and even if an Israelite finds them he doesn’t announce, because he assumes that it fell from a Canaanite, for they are the majority 23. Student 4: (Background) You don't even need a ny reason because it isn't time - 24. Student 3: Meaning, even if I, even if he sees 25. Student 1: even if he sees that it fell from an Israelite 26. Student 2: Then g- give it to him because he knows, thinks that a Canaanite. I didn't understand why [unclear] from a Canaanite? 27. Student 1: No, it isn’t necessary that the Canaanite despair. With a majority of Canaanites, you need despair. Of the owner. 28. Student 3: Why? 29. Student 1: Because, he, because it isn't, where the majority are Canaanites if it fell from a Canaanite it's clear that you don’t need despair, even if it fell from an Israelite they despair of it. 30. Student 3: But you don't need despair. 31. Student 1: What? 32. Student 3: Ah. You need presumably if you know that it's… 33. Student 1: No, my question remains.

365 34. Student 3: Yeah. 35. Student 4: Yeah. I thought, that's why I stopped myself after the…there are cases that aren't…something 36. Student 5: That don't always happen. 37. Student 2: No, that it didn't specify. 38. Student 1: "Tractate" [unclear] also on the other side? 39. Student 6: What, to say that you… 40. Student 7: It is permitted to lie regarding tractate. Why lie on both sides? 41. Rav Uzi: Turn off the light maybe. (Photographs whiteboard with cell phone.) Thank you. That's it. My cell phone will be smart one day. 42. Student 1: Once we were in a class with Rav Na'eh, they put three, ah…MP3s for him. He talked for a long time about how much an MP3 is…like, there's a disagreement about Sinai, uprooter of mountains. How much the MP3 is Sinai. 43. Student 6: About what? A disagreement about what? 44. Student 1: What's preferable, a person who knows everything, or like one who knows how to [study in-] depth ( le`ayyen ) and isn't proficient ( baqi ) [in large amounts of material]... 45. Rav Uzi: There's that movie, what , where is it, on…You Tube about ah…about ah…about each one who comes with his recorder and then the lecturer comes. Alright, this is the class. Here. Distribute this please. Each person, excuse me, each person in his place. We have to learn! You're lazy! 46. Student 7: Pass this to Vaknin. 47. Rav Uzi: Next time you're taking a taxi. 48. Student 8: Five hundred shekels. 49. Student 6: Harav, I didn't have money to pay. 50. Rav Uzi: So you take ah… 51. Student 8: A mortgage. 52. Rav Uzi: [unclear (student's name)], do you go around without a cent ( prutah )? 53. Student 6: What? 54. Rav Uzi: Do you go around without a cent ( grush ) in your pocket? What? 55. Student 6: No, I had a little money. I didn't have enough for a taxi. 56. Rav Uzi: Aha. 57. Student 9: From where to where? 58. Rav Uzi: That means that otherwise he would have taken [one]. 59. Student 7: I'm without a cent ( grush ). 60. Student 6: (laughing) The truth is, I didn't think about it. 61. Rav Uzi: It didn't enter your mind that there is such a possibility? Ah…even the bus doesn't enter your mind. Even by bus you would have gotten here faster. 62. Student 6: It would have taken me longer by bus. 63. Rav Uzi: What? 64. Student 8: From where to where? 65. Student 7: The three-eighty. 66. Rav Uzi: You stood there for an hour you said. 67. Student 6: No. you stand, Harav, you know. You stand for half an hour and then you start to think what to do. And then 68. Rav Uzi: No. but after half an hour it's the same thing as the beginning. The fact

366 that you stood there for half an hour 69. Student 6: You don 't know that you'll get stuck for half an hour. 70. Rav Uzi: Right. 71. Student 8: You say, for sure in another minute a ride will come, another minute. 72. Rav Uzi: Right. Sure. 73. Student 6: You stand up top for half an hour and then down below for half an hour. 74. Rav Uzi: No, but logically presumably there's no difference. Let's say, you stand before the second half hour, so the second half – there's no, there's no proof that it will be different from the first half hour. 75. Student 5: And then there would be maybe a third half hour. 76. Rav Uzi: Statistically yes, maybe. Statistically. 77. Student 7: Harav, there's no logic in that, though. 78. Rav Uzi: It really is a question. Fine. Here. First of all - 79. Student 8: Harav, when I travel with a tent I don't take a shekel on me 80. Rav Uzi: What? 81. Student 8: When I travel with a tent I don't take a shekel on me 82. Rav Uzi: What 83. Student 8: When I travel home 84. Rav Uzi: Nu? 85. Student 8: I don't take money. 86. Rav Uzi: Nothing? 87. Student 8: I don't take 88. Rav Uzi: When I was a kid, so my parents would give me a dollar if some Black would come and…and… 89. Student: and threaten you 90. Rav Uzi: and threaten you, so you would have a dollar to give him. So once I used it. And once I was bigger and… 91. Student 7: And you used othe r things. 92. Rav Uzi: No, I was. I remember. I was….meaning, it was when I was, when I got off of some bus alone in my neighborhood and some guy got off with me ah…he threatened me so I gave him the dollar. I went home so alright. I was little, and then one time ah 93. Student 9: What did he say? 94. Student 5: I'll destroy you if you don't give me money. 95. Student 6: We'll bring you a dollar. 96. Rav Uzi: And then once I was with my friend, in high school. And we were on a bus and some guy who was smaller than me came up to me. And he said, "give me money." And then I looked at him, I look at my friends and I then, "go away, what are you doing." "I'll follow you to your house." Fine. Come. So he left… 97. Student 6: That's how it works, that in the United States e veryone just like that, asks for money? 98. Rav Uzi: What? Not just that. There are rabbis who discussed, I don't think they wrote about it but I know that there are rabbis who talked about it in their communities, if it is permitted to carry money on the Sabbath 99. Student: The saving of life ( piquah nefesh ) 100. Rav Uzi: Because maybe it's saving of life ( piquah nefesh ) in a situation like that. (Students talking.) What? After all in Israel it’s about parking

367 spots, God save us. Not upon us, meaning, there were crazy cases, mad. Right? But there let's say someone 101. Student 10: It's like it's permitted to take a weapons license 102. Rav Uzi: Do you knowhow many, how many people, youth, have a, have a weapon, which doesn't even cost so much on…on the black market and…it's over nothing. Over nothing, they'll shoot. Meaning it isn't, it isn't purposeless. Meaning, it isn't purposeless that, that there is such a thing. Meaning, it - 103. Student 4: I have no idea 104. Rav Uzi: What? 105. Student 2: Not over nothing 106. Rav Uzi: Not over nothing. But, you don't want to be the case out of the one in a hundred thousand cases like that so you don't want to be the one. So so so why, so give him. Give him a dollar. What, give him a dollar now… 107. Student 11: You can take twenty dollars in hand and just make it dollar bills and then he'll see a wad like that you give it to him and then he's satisfied 108. Student 3: But one dollar is enough. He leaves. 109. Student 11: Ah. Yeah? One dollar is enough, he leaves. That's it, he takes out a gun for a dollar? What? Is he nuts? 110. Student 3: What does he care? 111. Rav Uzi: What does he care? Once, once even - 112. Student 8: Harav, harav 113. Student 9: A dollar, a dollar (students continue talking) 114. Rav Uzi: Once, once they even ma - once they even made a mov ie about ah…about a guy that every time that came…the movie was about a guy that every time someone comes, he asks for money, kills him. He had a weapon – kills him. And he managed to do it some ten times. Until once there was, there were two [guys], and they shot him back and wounded him. And they almost discovered who he was. And then the police commander didn't want them to publicize who it was because in effect he was his fan, that every time that some criminal would come, he would shoot him and kill him. But ah…here, who, who didn't get this page? Fine. That, that, that…first of all, first of all 115. Student 12: (in background) Wow, it's hard for this hour, this page 116. Rav Uzi: Excuse me, excuse me. Let's work together now. First of all, you ah…this is a segment, call it the simple meaning. Call it ah…half- iyyun , I don't care what it is, but, what do we do with a page of gemara ? 117. Student 5: Learn. ( lomedim ) 118. Rav Uzi: Now. You have, this is almost the entire unit, so it continues onto side B but this is most of the unit here. Now, first thing, first thing, someone, did someone learn in seder , did someone learn in seder . I'm not saying that every teacher would do exactly like this, but anyway, was someone in seder . Learned gemara , tell (pl.) me in two sentences what's in this gemara . Yagel, you can say in two sentences what there was here. 119. Student 12: There was a disagreement between Rabbi Shimon and the Rabbis and… 120. Rav Uzi: About?

368 121. Student 12: About ah…ah…when you have to return a lost object. In whic h cases. 122. Student 8: Regarding the majority. 123. Rav Uzi: Excuse me. 124. Student 6: There isn't a disagreement 125. Rav Uzi: What you said. Excuse me. What you said is correct but it's too general. A disagreement about… 126. Student 12: About Israel and Canaanites, a question, the question is in which cases they disagree. 127. Rav Uzi: What what what? 128. Student 12: Regarding an Israelite and a Canaanite that the majority, that the majority is Canaanite or that the majority is Israelite. 129. Rav Uzi: Regarding majority. What is this majority? What is it? 130. Student 9: That the majority of the people who are in this place are Canaanites or Israelite. 131. Rav Uzi: You're jumping to the second stage but what, what lost object is talked about here? 132. Student 4: Despair. 133. Rav Uzi: Why are we talking about majority at all? Why do I care about the majority? 134. Student 7: If it's despair or not. 135. Student 12: Because it has a sign. 136. Student 11: From the force that crowds are frequent there. 137. Rav Uzi: It has a sign, first of all, it has a sign. Rashi says explicitly that it's talking about in our gemara that it has a sign. Right? Why, why is it talking about that it has a sign, because if, if it doesn't have a sign then we know they despair. 138. Student 12: Explicitly the gemara says he despairs so what? 139. Student 10: Visual notation. What, why - 140. Rav Uzi: So it's talking about a sign. So now why would someone despair? 141. Student 6: Because it's investigation. 142. Rav Uzi: What? 143. Student 6: It's like the tide of the sea. 144. Rav Uzi: Crowds are frequent there. That's the sugya . First you have to give a title to the sugya . Today not on the board. Excuse me, enough cell phones. Look, look, first of all, look, first of all the topic. The topic is, what happens when there's crowds are frequent there? The best example, someone goes, a demonstration against war in Lebanon. There are of course only at demonstrations like this there are a hundred thousand people. But a demonstration in favor or something like that, there are always only a few tens of demonstrators. So let's say that there are a hundred thousand people at…at a demonstration in Rabin Square. Someone lost his watch. It has an identifying mark on it. It has an identifying mark. 145. Student 7: But… 146. Rav Uzi: A person, a person is separated from his watch. That's what the gemara says. Is separated from his watch. Now Yagel – they discuss. Why is he separated from his watch? Why? 147. Student 12: He despaired. 148. Rav Uzi: Why? Meaning, there are a hundred thousand people, so say that there

369 are a hundred thousand people who will help me 149. Student: But no 150. Rav Uzi: To get my watch back. 151. Student 5: There are bad people (lit. "people who aren't good"/ anashim shelo ma`alei ). That's Tosafot. 152. Rav Uzi: There's Tosafot. The second one, the little one, it says even with an Israelite majority it could be that there are so many people there so you say wow, there are also good people there, also bad people. 153. Student 11: Who said there's - 154. Rav Uzi: But people, I don't get it back 155. Student 11: Who said there's such a thing as inshei dela ma`alei ? 156. Rav Uzi: That…that there's what? 157. Student 11: That there are inshei dela ma`alei ? 158. Rav Uzi: Otherwise how do you explain the gemara ? 159. Student 2: Harav, Harav 160. Rav Uzi: That Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar claims maybe according to the doubt maybe even with an Israelite majority, there are a hundred thousand Jews there and you despaired of your watch that you have an identifying sign. After all, you don't despair about something that has an identifying sign. 161. Studen t 10: He didn't despair because it's people who aren't good - 162. Rav Uzi: So Tosafot is pushed into a corner. I tried to find among the Rishonim that they would tell me a different explanation. Because I thought without this kind of explanation. Is there someone who thought, do you have a question? Because I just wanted to ask. Meaning, there's another explanation why if there are a hundred thousand people there you'll despair. Let's forget inshei dela ma`alei . What? 163. Student 6: According to the previous To safot, the previous Tosafot says that a Canaanite majority ah, it says that…with a majority of Canaanites but it could be that also an Israelite will find it. Right? 164. Rav Uzi: Nu? 165. Student 6: That's what…so why with…so also with an Israelite majority it' s possible to say that that it could be that a Canaanite will find it. 166. Rav Uzi: Ah. You're saying that maybe the non -Jews ( goyyim ) will find it. There's a majority, there's a minority, but if so many people - 167. Student 6: Like I thought as a question on Tosafot, why he doesn't say that also. 168. Rav Uzi: I don't know. No, I searched maybe someone would say [it]. Psychologically I thought maybe, I thought to myself a theory, maybe psychologically, someone, someone, something gets lost in…ah…something gets lost and there are a million people there so I thought just, simply, a person, he doesn't have hope already. It ah… 169. Student 9: Maybe a million people step on it 170. Rav Uzi: I don't know. Right. Trample it. It's – I don't know. It won't get to him, I – but I didn't find someone who says it. Meaning, I didn't look in all the books. 171. Student 10: It's clear to everyone. 172. Rav Uzi: I looked in some books. I didn't see. The only explanation that I know right now is what Tosafot says that…there are so many people with them, there are also inshei dela ma`alei , and therefore you assume that

370 the bad people will take it. Vaknin's twi - twist is that it could be that there are so many people, maybe the non-Jew will be the one who picks it up because here it isn't a matter of statistics. After all you know that there are also so many people so it's known that there are also there from among the minority, either that aren't good (shelo maalei ) or that they're non-Jews, like that. You claim though 173. Student 3: But who says that specifically one like that will find it? 174. Student 11: Yeah, that was my question. What are you really saying, in fact? That there are a lot of people. Do for sure um…x percent are people who aren't trustworthy. 175. Rav Uzi: Yeah. Yeah. 176. Student 11: But then why would it fall specifically by them? Like, even with ten people there’s the same percentage and the same percent that it will fall by them and in all - 177. Student 8: No one said that it will fall specifically by them. You have to check. 178. Student 11: That’s what you say. 179. Student 8: No, no, you don’t have strength to start checking. 180. Rav Uzi: After all first of all, first of all, let’s, let’s put your question into perspective. What the two of you are saying in fact, it could, it could be that this that this is the gemara ’s doubt. You’re not with us! It could be that this that this is the gemara ’s doubt. The gemara itself is uncertain whether, the gemara itself is uncertain whether, when there’s a majority of Israelites, something like this is relevant. Maybe for sure you’ll get it back. Or a person at least doesn’t despair because he thinks he’ll get it back. Now, to the continuation of the gemara . Erez, can you say, in the continuation of the gemara , what happens? In one sentence. 181. Student 13: They ask uh…questions. 182. Rav Uzi: They ask questions. Generally speaking, what are the questions? 183. Student 12: They try to clarify what Rabbi Shimon’s opinion is. 184. Rav Uzi: Yes. What does Rabbi Shimon think? Non -Jews ( goyyim ) or Jews? Also? 185. Student 12: No, non -Jews is clear. 186. Student 6: Also, also. 187. Rav Uzi: Is it specifically non-Jews or Jews also that he despairs? And the Rabbis who disagree. 188. Student 12: If they disagree only about that. 189. Rav Uzi: Only about this or only about that, also about that. They disagree about everything. 190. Student 1: Do they disagree at all, do they disagree about this or disagree about that. 191. Rav Uzi: Where 192. Student 12: The whole time they ask do they disagree (pligei ). 193. Rav Uzi: No, that’s also a question. 194. Student 4: Where does the gemara assume that? 195. Rav Uzi: The gemara asks 196. Student 7: The gemara assumes… 197. Student 9: Whether they disagree and if they do, about what? 198. Rav Uzi: Do they disagree with him, or do they not disagree with him. 199. Student 12: Yeah, they ask that…

371 200. Rav Uzi: And if they disagree with him, about what do they disagree with him. It’s if it - 201. Student 12: And if it’s Rabbi Shimon, what is the law. 202. Rav Uzi: Classic gemara . Meaning, they/we don’t even know that someone disagrees. They/we’re so used to someone disagreeing that they/we say, maybe they disagree. No, there’s, it could be that there’s a reason that they say that maybe someone disagrees here. But it doesn’t, it doesn’t interest me right now. Do they disagree or do they not disagree, and if thye disagree, about what do they disagree. Onwards. After that in the gemara . 203. Student 5: Harav, I have a question. 204. Rav Uzi: Question. 205. Student 5: About, about these questions. 206. Rav Uzi: Yes? 207. Student 5: Does the gemara wants from these questions, in the end, to ask one final question. Or does it have ten questions that it doesn’t care if it gets an answer to one of the questions. And that will satisfy it. 208. Rav Uzi: They didn’t g -, they didn’t get an answer to any question and in the continuation you see that there isn’t - 209. Student 5: Because in the continuation 210. Rav Uzi: They’re groping around there in the dark. 211. Student 5: The continuation, from the first come and hear they can, they can get an answer to…to one question but it like doesn’t work out with the last ques-, it isn’t an answer to the last question. 212. Rav Uzi: No, they reject every every thing. There’s no proof for anything here. 213. Student 5: From the first come and hear it seems that in a place where there’s a non-Jew there will be despair, in a place where an Israelite, there won’t be despair. So alright. So say that that’s what Rabbi Shimon thinks. Why do they say that it doesn’t work out? 214. Student 8: According to everyone Rabbi Shimon thinks that with a Canaanite majority it’s possible. 215. Rav Uzi: Ah. Bl bl bl bl bl (while reading through text quickly) 216. Student 9: Why? It’s impossible to prove it. 217. Rav Uzi: No, but when they say that ah… 218. Student 12: They say that it’s talking about a place of Canaanites. 219. Rav Uzi : If it’s bundles. Excuse me. They say if it’s talking about bundles 220. Student 12: No, they say that it is talking about bundles. Rather, it is referring to [money found in] bundles. 221. Rav Uzi: Right. So if it’s talking about bundles 222. Student 4: And it’s talking only about a place of non-Jews. 223. Student 2: Nu? In my opinion Rabbi Shimon ben Eliezer in any place, even in any place of non-Jews, it’s possible. 224. Rav Uzi: Rather, it is referring to [money found in] bundles. 225. Student 2: It’s not a question. It’s for sure. 226. Student 10: Nu, so that’s it. 227. Student 2: So it’s impossible to prove. 228. Student 12: So you can’t prove that it’s… 229. Student 10: What’s impossible to prove? 230. Student 4: That Rabbi Shimon ben Eliezer says that with a Canaanite majority you

372 can take it for yourself is self -evident . 231. Student 6: Alright. So say that’s what he thinks. 232. Student 8: No, afterwards it brings you another come and hear that you can understand that also Israel. 233. Student 4: We want to prove either about Israel or about - 234. Student 8: Afterwards it brings you another come and hear that you can understand that Rabbi Shimon does think it’s with Israelite. 235. Student 1: But why do they/we want that, they say there’s, there’s a proof here that that’s what he thinks. 236. Student 4: No, we tried to prove that synagogues is an Israelite place. Right? Then also with an Israelite majority Rabbi Shimon ben Eliezer thinks it’s possible. 237. Student 8: But you reject. 238. Student 4: It’s possible to take. And then you say no, synagogues, houses of study is a place of non-Jews ( goyyim ). 239. Student 8: That’s it. Then that’s what Rabbi Shimon thinks. 240. Student 12: No, and then it says to you - 241. Student 8: Yeah, but why do you have to do that? 242. Student 4: No, but you can say that it’s talkin g about places but not - 243. Student 12: Because you’re clarifying, 244. Student 8: You asked ten questions here, and you have an answer to a question, and that’s it. 245. Student 12: You don’t have an answer to any question. Because you need 246. Student 8: You do have. 247. Student 12: But it rejects. 248. Student 8: This is the answer here to the first question. The first question is, does Rabbi Shimon think only regarding, only regarding non-Jews or only regarding, or also regarding Israel. Then that’s it, you see from here only non-Jews. 249. Student 4: No, only for non-Jews. It’s not a proof. It’s understandings. You have 250. Student 12: There are those who understand it it also with this, also with that. Look at the next come and hear , what do they/we learn from it? What do they/we learn from it? That Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar thinks regarding both of them, right? That here it’s talking about concealed. 251. Student 10: Maybe that’ll be, Maybe that will be the law? They’re clarifying. What? 252. Rav Uzi: Ah…it’s an interesting question there, meaning, I talked about it with some of the guys in seder . Ah…there are gemara s that…work as if with the assumptions of geometry. What we claimed at the beginning of the year it seems to me about geometry unlike what…he commented to me, he commented to me ah he commented to me meaning that in algebra when you’re discussing a parabola then you solve the problem but solve the problem could be that you have, that you have a few possibilities. Meaning, I don’t remember that, but in geometry um the whole time you, the whole year I remember that we proved things and I remember that the basic assumption of the whole year was that if there are two possibilities, there’s no proof for anything. That’s how we learned geometry all year. More than that I don’t really remember from geometry. But a proof has to be a proof one hundred percent and if the

373 proof is seventy percent, it equals zero. Seventy percent equals zero. There’s no half a proof. Now what happens in our sugya , is that they apparently don’t agree with the assumption of geometry, especially in the last come and hear on the page. They say, ah. That’s Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, so prove that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar distinguishes between non-Jews and Jews. If its, then it says no, the Rabbis. Ah. It’s the Rabbis? So prove that the Rabbis distinguish between non-Jews and Jews. So the gemara could have stopped the whole discussion there and said what? Just a minute, you don’t know if it’s Rabbi Shimon. You don’t know if it’s the Rabbis. So you haven’t proven anything. 253. Student 9: Why? They say, who says that crowds ( rabbim )? Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar. 254. Rav Uzi: No, just a minute. You you grasp the proof. That’s what Udi, Udi is talking about your proof that…it’s reasonable to assume that it’s talking about Rabbi Shimon here. But in…in the end why is that reasonable? I’m also not sure but it’s logical to start that way. But what happens in the end? In the end the gemara gets to the come and hear . That they say that there’s someone who distinguishes between a majority of non-Jews and a Jewish majority. Right? There’s someone who distinguishes like that. Now, who is it? If it’s Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, so we’ve proven that Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar distinguishes between non-Jews and Jews so that solves one of our basic questions from the beginning. Right? They say to us, no. It’s the Rabbis. Ah. But we also asked regarding the Rabbis. If if it’s the Rabbis then the Rabbis distinguish between non-Jews and Jews and we asked about that also. So the gemara could have, if the gemara were like geometry, it could have stopped there and said ah. You don’t know if it’s Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar, if it’s the Rabbis. So we’re going home. Let’s put this Beraita aside. You don’t know what it proves. But the gemara doesn’t stop there. And the gemara says, if it’s this, then you proved like this, and if it’s that, then you proved it for him. And then it bothers them. No, we don’t want there to be even half a proof. There won’t be any proof. It’s talking about concealed. And concealed excludes it despite the fact that there are a hundred thousand people there in Rabin Square. But there’s, there’s also uh…uh…a garbage stand. And there’s garbage that apparently in rabin Square is never cleared. And here it happened that they decided to clear the garbage in Rabin Square. Right? But then, what? 255. Student 3: Because there was a demonstration there was a lot - 256. Rav Uzi: There was a lot of who knows what and nonetheless a person put it there at the beginning because he has been at a lot of demonstrations in the past five years, he sees that there’s always the same, the same garbage there, he even sees the…the…the wrapper of the prili that he threw there five years ago. It’s in exactly the same place. So he knows that they don’t clear away this garbage. So he puts his watch there. He got tired of carrying his heavy watch, or it was a student from Darchei Noam. The gemara was too heavy. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t put the gemara in…meaning, he put the language book there. It was too heavy. He put it inside. And…he left it. And that…anyway, maximum it’ll get

374 lost and the mom will buy another one. So he put it there concealed, suddenly they’re clearing it away. So they say, ah, now he put it there concealed. Now we don’t go according to all these rules that crowds are frequent there. Because it isn’t relevant. He doesn’t despair of it because there are a hundred thousand people there. These hundred thousand people don’t l-, don’t search in the garbage so he was sure that he’d get it back. Who found it? Someone who knows that now they’re going to suddenly clear away this garbage. But it’s not talking about the topic of our sugya . Alright? So we have anyway, that’s in general what there is in the sugya . 257. Student 1: What it has to say is that it’s talking about [unclear]. 258. Rav Uzi: What? 259. Student 1: They’re talking there about a city, about a city that has a majority of non-Jews ( nokhrim ) or an Israelite majority, , I know. It isn’t - 260. Rav Uzi: That’s, that’s the topic there. If the city is an Israelite majority then a person doesn’t despair and if the city is a majority of non-Jews (goyyim ) 261. Student 1: Why would they want to bring it to him from the garbage? 262. Rav Uzi: What? 263. Student 1: Why would they want to bring it to him from the garbage? 264. Rav U zi: No, because they wanted to…it’s, now we’re not working according to that principle, crowds gather there. After all there’s an innovation here. On this page suddenly we learn, we learn, what happened? We’re learning for two months already the chapter Which Found Objects (Eilu Metsi’ot ). Chapter Eilu Metsi’ot works according to rules such as an identifying mark, not an identifying mark, the manner of putting down. Is a place considered an identifying mark? All of these things. And suddenly they say to you no, there’s another principle that you didn’t know. You didn’t know the principle of crowds gather there. You were’t familiar with it. It like usurps everything you said about an identifying mark. It has an identifying mark. You despair in any case. So that’s what there is on this page. There’s a principle here, new, that you weren’t familiar with. What do they do when they get to this line of concealed? they say, no, there the Beraita isn’t talking about this topic of crowds gather there. It isn’t, it ah…ah…talking about crowds gather there. But isn’t, that isn’t the point. The point is something else. He doesn’t despair because crowds gather there. In the end really why he despairs isn’t written explicitly in the gemara . Why does he despair there? 265. Student 1: Maybe it’s a lost object of Canaanites. 266. Rav Uzi: What? 267. Student 1: Maybe it’s a lost object of Canaanites. 268. Rav Uzi: Maybe it’s a lost object of Canaanites and…that’s really what I said to someone this morning. When…meaning, in New York I celebrated. I didn’t have to know the laws of a lost object. And that…I knew, we learned in gemara . I remember, we learned in the gemara , in the Rishonim . That if it’s if most of the city are Canaanites and most of the lost objects are Canaanites’ and you pick something up and it’s reasonable to assume that it’s Canaanites or non-Jews ( goyyim ). In Rav Ilan’s gemara it says non-Jews and not Canaanites in…in this

375 269. Student 6: Also in Steinsaltz it says. 270. Rav Uzi: Ah. Any uh…any uh…so anyway if it’s a majority of no n-Jews then in New York lets say you don’t, there are only a million Jews there. That’s a minority of the city. So you ah…are not obligated to return the lost object. After all you, you really aren’t obligated to return lost objects. What? If you’re…? 271. Student 9: In the area of the Jews. 272. Rav Uzi: Ah. That’s an interesting question. And it really ah depends on all kinds of things that I don’t know. Ah… 273. Student 5: Harav, I didn’t understand what [unclear] 274. Rav Uzi: There are neighborhoods that there is I, I assume a Jewsih majority. Yes? Or streets at least if so, neighborhoods. Yes? Brooklyn is, Brooklyn is a quarter. It’s called, meaning a borough is a quarter. So a quarter of New York City. New York let’s say there are ah…some eight million people. So in this quarter there are some two and a half million or something like that. So Brooklyn, there are specific neighborhoods that are ah...let’s say Boro Park, it’s it’s thousands of thousands of Jews it and…on specific streets a assume that there are only Jews there. 275. Student 5: Harav, so I didn’t understand the conclusion what they say about concealed. 276. Rav Uzi: Ah. Ah. Here, just a minute. 277. Student 5: That with concealed it doesn’t make a difference what, he didn’t have to announce, and then it’s like Rabbi Shimon who says that crowds…I didn’t understand what. 278. Rav Uzi: So with concealed - 279. Student 12: You have to announce but presumably it is forbidden to touch it. It [unclear] difficulty… 280. Rav Uzi: Ah. And I didn’t bring…Ah. I didn’t think I’d be writing on the board so I didn’t bring those. All that the gemara says. All that the gemara claims, is that…you thought that this Mishnah, where is it, Tractate Makhshirin. Wherever it is. You thought that it’s talking about Rabbi Shimon’s topic. No, it’s not talking about Rabbi Shimon’s topic. It’s talking about a lost object. That…since it’s talking there that there are cities like mixed, it really reflects the history of the Second Temple [period]. Meaning, all of a sudden, near near the end of the Second Temple, you have cities in Israel that are ah…in half the…fifty percent of the population is Greeks. Meaning, the non-Jews ( hagoyyim ). There are the non-Jews. It’s not talking about Arabs then but th- there were mixed cities and that’s what’s very very interesting in this Mishnah. That there’s a Mishnah that reflects exactly what there was there. There were mixed cities there. In the period, the end of the period of the second Temple. So this comes from the non-Jews, that comes from the Jews. But the topic is already not our topic. Of crowds gather there, that you despair because there are so many people and…this part includes people who aren’t good people ( inshei ma`alei ), so alright. So you despair. 281. Student 5: So there’s no proof what Rabbi Shimon thinks about it? 282. Rav Uzi: What?

376 283. Student 5: So there still isn’t a proof what Rabbi Shimon and what the Rabbis think? 284. Rav Uzi: Why? No, there isn’t, I don’t have any focus left! (said as an aside to a student) Still. 285. Student 5: And what do we see in the or also (‘ee nami )? 286. Rav Uzi: What’s with? 287. Student 5: In the or also , on the second side. Either you are yes able… 288. Rav Uzi: Ah. It’s…uh…uh…in the or also . 289. Student 12: No, it’s if you wish I will say (eeba`eit eima ) to explain it like the Rabbis. 290. Student 5: Right. 291. Rav Uzi: But again they remove it from the sugya , no? 292. Student 5: Without a connection to majority? 293. Rav Uzi: If you wish I will say, admittedly this is the view of the Rabbis, but is it stated they belong to the finder? He is not obligated to announce. Ah, no, there they don’t remove it from the…from...Rashi says regarding not concealed so it returns to our sugya . But why why do they not prove what the Rabbis think? It doesn’t say 294. Student: That it’s his 295. Rav Uzi: That it’s yours . It says - 296. Student 10: It says that you are not obligated to announce. 297. Rav Uzi: that you are not obligated to announce. So if you’re not obligated to announce but that doesn’t mean that…that is says that you despaired and you can take it for yourself. It, meaning, it doesn’t have a proof. Meaning, if you can - 298. Student 12: You’re obligated to announce, you can’t take it for yourself. 299. Rav Uzi: If you can take it for yourself, it’s a sign that a person despaired because crowds gather there. But it says, no, it’s talking about…about a majority of Canaanites and…a person isn’t obligated to announce but he can’t take it for himself. 300. Student 4: Rather what? 301. Rav Uzi: I assume he’ll safeguard [it]. If a Jew comes and…claims that it’s his and he has an identifying mark, I assume - 302. Student 2: Harav. Harav. I didn’t understand. The conclusion in the first come and hear is [unclear] it’s Canaanite, right? 303. Rav Uzi: One minute. So come, come, let’s go back to the first [one]. Maybe here - 304. Student: There isn’t a class now, about prayer? Ah? 305. Rav Uzi: Yeah. Let’s do just five more minutes. Something here. To get something across. So Eitan, we’ll get back to it tomorrow. Just a minute, excuse me, Yishai, concentrate. Meaning, I just want let’s say, we’ll do the first thing because we really have to do do it first, meaning first of all, we asked all the questions. Now there’s come and hear, one who finds money , in the last narrow line. This come and hear , one who finds money in synagogues and houses of study and there’s the come and hear , the…come and hear, one found therein a lost object , so that we’ll have the structure of the gemara here. Now in order to say that it’s come and hear , in order to say that it’s relevant to us, so what do we need to understand? We need to understand that in these two cases

377 it’s talking about another case of crowds gather there. So a comment about the first case, a comment about the second case. The first case, how do you know that it’s talking about a case of crowds gather there? That maybe you’ll despair because crowds gather there. How do you know that it’s talking about crowds gather there? 306. Student 1: It’s written. 307. Rav Uzi: What’s written? 308. Student 1: That crowds are there. 309. Rav Uzi: But what else is written? 310. Student: In any place, and in any place 311. Rav Uzi: It says money in synagogues and houses of study and any place that crowds gather . So it says both the principle and the specific [case]. Now synagogues presumably according to what it’s written and any place that crowds gather , presumably a synagogue is also a place where crowds gather. So now we have to retreat from what I started to talk about it that crowds gather there. So that’s Rabin Square with a hundred thousand demonstrators. We’ve already removed that 312. Student: To ten people 313. Rav Uzi: To a synagogue where there are let’s say, how many students are there in Darchei Noam now, three hundred approximately, so someone who found something there, in the Yeshivah anyway we have rules of lost objects, or a place to bring the lost objects or something of ours, but let’s say that not. So you lost something in a place like this, presumably it’s crowds gather there, even if there’s an identifying mark on it, you despair. Now here we have to open another question. What is the boundary between something that is a place where crowds gather and not? After all, after all it could be that it’s, if you give such a broad definition, it will break half the cases of lost objects that we’ve learned since the beginning of the chapter. Let’s say I had an argument and my daughter found something and it had an identifying mark, presumably. Some book I think that had a name in it but she claimed, she found it at a bus stop on Jaffa Road and she claimed that…some fifty meters from there, there was something or other that someone put there all kinds of things, apparently discarded, and she assumed that it came from there. Apparently someone moved it from there to there. And left it there and it’s all from that abandoned thing so she can take it for herself. She even called. And…meaning, I thought that she needs to take it and put a note there to announce. But then I remembered this gemara and then I said to Rav Ilan, just a minute, maybe the bus stop is a place where crowds gather. 314. Stud ent 1: Harav, it could be that crowds gather there - 315. Rav Uzi: Because here we see that here they broaden a lot. Rav Ilan thought so. And then the lost object belongs to her even though there’s an identifying mark. 316. Student 1: Harav, could it be that crowds gather there, like in this case right, what’s there, presumably like right, [unclear] people in the Yeshivah. The same people. I know. Know them and that. 317. Rav Uzi: Right. 318. Student 1: That’s not crowds gather. That’s the students of the Yeshivah gather. Crowds gather there could be like random people pass through there.

378 319. Rav Uzi: No, but let’s say a synagogue, a synagogue presumably the gemara claims that it’s a place where crowds gather. Right? So a synagogue, there aren’t so many set people, they even come from the street. Even in the Shteiblakh (a synagogue in Jerusalem with ad hoc services throughout the day). So let’s say, what percent is it really, I assume you could ask Bernie the gabbai /beadle there, he’ll tell you how many people are regulars and what is the percent of people who pass through there every day, who aren’t from the neighborhood. I assume that it’s, he has, he has theories or statistics about everything. So ah…I assume he knows this too. Meaning, it’s already clear that he knows because the…he always ah…when he comes to you let’s say once a year, he comes to you and he says to you, give your annual donation to the Shteiblakh and everyone who prays in the Shteiblakh most of the…the vast majority of the people who pray in the Shteiblakh aren’t members of the Shteiblakh, after all, this one has this synagogue, that one has that synagogue. But it’s convenient for him to come in the middle of the week because he isn’t praying today at six thirty so it’s convenient for him to come at eight thirty to the Shteiblakh, or for ma`ariv /evening services, he never has to know when they pray. Because they always pray. So it’s convenient for you to come there, like me, and he’s right, after all, he says what, you give a thousand shekels to your synagogue each year, then to the Shteiblakh you won’t give money, and you pray there more than times than you pray in your own synagogue. So I say, like everyone, after all, my synagogue is built on my donations, and if not, then it won’t exist. But the Shteiblakh exists. But that’s, there something in it that isn’t so ethical. So in the end I, I really started giving him every year. Not the thousand shekels that I give to my synagogue, but anyway I give him, I give him a donation every year. But really sometimes, justifiably, he comes over to you and says, do you know how many people pray there once a week, something like that – don’t give a cent ( grush ) and don’t give a dime ( prutah ) and I even noticed. I felt ah…I really felt remiss about Breslov let’s say, because Breslov, I go there every Friday night. So I don’t belong to that synagogue so there were a few years that I didn’t give them a donation, ever. But then, in the last few years I started to give them also because it isn’t fair. I pray there s- so the Sabbath eve they have to provide me a synagogue on Sabbath eve for…and I and I and I’ll be free ( hofshi ), free, “monthly free” ( hofshi hodshi , the name of an unlimited monthly bus pass) or something like that so I don’t, it’s not fair. So also to them I gave. So what I wanted to say, so anyway, a synagogue is a place where people come, I don’t know if they, I assume it’s a lot of people from here. Ah! (banging sound) Sorry. About the microphone. But anyway, it’s a place, it’s a place where there are how many people? You have to assume. I don’t know. It’s it’s interesting. It’s a synagogue in the time of the Mishnah. I assume that a person, some historian, could do a study for you and tell you 320. Student 10: It isn’t a place of prayer. Just he says, Rashi says 321. Rav Uzi: Ah. What does Rashi say? 322. Student 10: Ah. Just a second. 323. Rav Uzi: Ah. In the conclusion, you’re saying.

379 324. Student 10: Yeah. 325. Rav Uzi: Ah, in the conclusion, ya, fine. Fine. The conclusion, but fine, in the conclusion they say that… 326. Stud ent 10: A place where they gather . 327. Rav Uzi: There is to say, our houses of study in which Canaanites sit and also synagogues 328. Student: What Canaanite? 329. Rav Uzi: in which Canaanites sit (Aramaic, deyatvei ). They sat (Hebrew, hityashvu ) there. I don’t know, there’s 330. Student 10: A gathering place where they congregate to advise and consult 331. Rav Uzi: Where, where? 332. Student 10: Ah. Next to ah…the line like…the l- 333. Student: Rashi 334. Rav Uzi: Ah. Right, right. 335. Student 10: Because it isn’t, it isn’t a place of prayer. That’s what it sounds like. It sounds to me, the intention is a house of study ( beit midrash ). There it ah…with a beit midrash you can’t say something like that. 336. Rav Uzi: So how many people. But it interests me how many people will come, how many people will come in the time of the Mishnah to come advise, to consult in this synagogue. I don’t know, it - 337. Student 11: It was a place like ( kazeh ) of the community. 338. Rav Uzi: Of the community? So that would be two hundred people. 339. Student 4: It’s the dining hall. Where they have a meeting - 340. Student 11: Everyone comes there. 341. Rav Uzi: Let’s say, in a particular village it’ll be two hundred people, they’ll come there, I assume. I don’t know. But anyway, what’s the boundary? What’s the boundary? I don’t know. What’s the boundary, that’s ( zeh ), that’s ( zot ) one comment. Oy, so we’ll stop here. Ah…I want to go to the oitzer , that we’ll have something about prayer there and we’ll continue this. So so ah…save these pages because we didn’t do them at all. 342. Student 12: It’s possible next to the dining hall there. 343. Rav Uzi: So it will be…no, no no no. It ah…no, go to the oitzer . If the oitzer is taken, then next to my place in the beit midrash . Now without coffee holdups. Vaknin – nu, quick. 344. Students: Quickly, quickly, quickly 345. Rav Uzi: I’m coming, I’m coming. 346. Student 7: Where are we going now?

380

לעשות תלמוד: מחקר אתנוגרפי בתיכון דתי בישראל

חיבור לשם קבלת תואר דוקטור בפילוסופיה

מאת

עליזה סיגל

הוגש לסינט האוניברסיטה העברית בירושלים מאי 3122 אייר תשע"א

עבודה זו נעשתה בהדרכתם של:

פרופ' מנחם הירשמן ד"ר צבי בקרמן

תקציר חיבור זה, המציג מחקר שנערך בישיבה התיכונית “דרכי נועם” )שם בדוי(, פותח צוהר אל תוך תחום שמאופיין כבעייתי בשדה החינוכי אך לא נחקר דיו, דהיינו הוראת התלמוד. לצד התרומה לתחום החינוך היהודי בפרט והחינוך הדתי בכלל, עבודה זאת מתעדת באופן אתנוגרפי את קיומה של קהיליית עשייה (community of practice) דיסציפלינרית בהקשר בית-ספרי. העבודה פותחת עם סקירת ספרות שנוגעת בשישה תחומים עיקריים; ספרות התורמת להבנה וליבון של סוגיות לוקאליות מופיעה במקומות הרלוונטיים הספציפיים. להלן ששת

התחומים, עם תיאור תמציתי של כל אחד ואחד. 1. הוראת התלמוד: רקע ורציונל למחקר: התלמוד, המכונה גם כן הגמרא, תופס מקום מרכזי בחינוך היהודי-אורתודוקסי, במיוחד של בנים. יחד עם זאת, קיימת תפיסה בעשורים האחרונים בקרב מנהיגי הקהילה, מחנכים, וחוקרים כאחד, של משבר וכישלון בתחום מוערך זה. הקשיים בהבנת שפת הגמרא ודרכי החשיבה המשתקפות בטקסט מתחברים, לפי דעות רווחות, לחוסר רלוונטיות של החומר לחיי התלמיד, ומביאים לידי חוסר עניין וחוסר הצלחה של תלמידים בתחום לימוד הגמרא. על אף

דיונים ערניים סביב בעיות אלה, רוב רובו של המחקר שנעשה בתחום עד היום הינו מחקר המורה כיצד לפעול (prescriptive), המציע כיוונים פדגוגיים או קווים מנחים לתכניות לימודים; המחקר האמפירי המעט שקיים מתמקד בעולמם של המורים. חיבור זה מיועד להתחיל למלא את החסר בתחום המחקר בכיתה, ושאלותיו הן: )1( כיצד מובנֵית דיסציפלינת התלמוד בישיבת “דרכי נועם”? )2( מהו תפקידו של לימוד הגמרא בתהליך החִ ברּות )סוציאליזציה( המתרחש בבית הספר?

2. התלמוד ולימודו: המונח "תלמוד" בשימושו הרווח מתייחס לשני חיבורים של מה שנקרא "תורה שבעל פה": המשנה, חיבור של אמירות )לרוב הלכתיות( של תנאים, שנחתם בערך בשנת 222 לספירה, והגמרא, כולל הירושלמי, הכתוב בארמית ארץ- ישראלית ונחתם במאה החמישית, והבבלי, הנלמד יותר, שכתוב בארמית בבלית ושנחתם במאה השישית. תפקיד הגמרא הוא לפרש את המשנה ולהרחיבה. התלמוד היה מוקד מרכזי בחייהם האינטלקטואליים והנורמטיביים של היהודים מאז היכתבו, אך לימודו הפך לפעילות נורמטיבית בקרב כלל אוכלוסיית הגברים רק בתחילת

המאה התשע-עשרה, ובעיקר בישיבות מזרח אירופה. חלק ניכר מן הישיבות היום, בארץ ובכלל בעולם היהודי-מערבי, שואב ממסורות ישיבות ליטא אלו. בעולם של

א

הישיבה הליטאית, לימוד הגמרא נעשה באופן פעיל ועצמאי, כאשר עצם העשייה הנו בעל ערך דתי-תרבותי. נעשו מחקרים המעידים על המשכיותה של תפיסה זו בקרב מבוגרים הלומדים גמרא. במחקר זה אני בודקת מה מתרחש כאשר סוג של למידה המבוסס על עשייה, על תהליכים יותר מאשר על תוצאות, ושדורש מהלומד עצמאות ומשמעת עצמית, משתלב בתוך מסגרת בית ספרית. 3. עשייה בית-ספרית ולמידה: התשובה לשאלה האחרונה תלויה במידת-מה בהגדרה של בית הספר ובתפיסת תפקידו החברתי. מצד אחד, בית הספר נועד להעביר לתלמידים

את הנורמות ואת הערכים של החברה הסובבת. מאידך, בית הספר הינו מוקד לייצור תרבותי (cultural production). ביחס רפלקסיבי זה בין בית הספר ובין החברה, משתקפים רעיונות על למידה, עשייה, ושפה. המחקר הנוכחי נשען על תיאוריות חברתיות-תרבותיות של הלמידה (Lave & Wenger 1991; Wenger 1998), לפיהן למידה מתרחשת באמצעות השתתפות בקהיליית עשייה. המתלמד מתחיל בהשתתפות שהיא פריפריאלית אך לגיטימית, ומתקדם על ציר המוביל אל השתתפות מלאה יותר ואל מומחיות. תהליכים אלה מלווים בתהליכים של הבניית זהות, כאשר

המושג זהות מוגדר בתור איזה "סוג של אדם" (Gee 2000-2001) משתקף בפעילותו של אדם במישורים שונים ובהקשרים שונים. 4. מחקרים אתנוגרפיים בבתי ספר דתיים: אם בית הספר הוא מוקד לפרודוקציה ולרה- פרודוקציה חברתית, אזי בית הספר הדתי, המשרת חברה בעלת ערכים ודרכי עשייה מוגדרים וצרים יחסית, מציג שדה פורה לחקר תהליכי חִ ברות. בית ספר דתי שהוא חד-שיחי (single-Discourse), מופרד לגמרי מהחברה הסובבת הרחבה, מטפח רצף

בין החיים בתוך בית הספר ובין החיים, והמשך החיים, מחוצה לו. לעומת זאת, בית ספר רב-שיחי (multiple-Discourse) מבוסס על מתחים פנימיים בין ערכים מתנגשים או בין מסורות שונות (Lehmann 2007). התמודדות עם טקסטים בעלי ערך תרבותי מציבה אתגר לבתי הספר הללו, כאשר הוראת הגמרא משמשת דוגמא להתמודדות הזאת. 5. שיח בכיתה: מגמה פדגוגית מרכזית הנובעת מחקר שיח הכיתה מבקשת להעביר את דפוסי השיח מרצף ה-IRE הידוע )initiation-response-evaluation / יוזמה-תגובה-

הערכה( (Cazden 2001; Mehan 1979) אל שיח דיאלוגי ודיון אמתיים. יחד עם זאת, ניתן לזהות שתי מגמות נוספות שהן רלוונטיות למחקר הנוכחי. ראשית, יש

ב

טוענים שערך האינטראקציה תלוי בתכנים ולא במבנה בלבד; הרי ה-IRE משחק תפקיד בהבניית סדר ורוטינות שהם מוכרים למשתתפים ומסמנים את סוג האינטראקציה. המגמה השנייה שואפת לדיון אמיתי בכיתה הנובע מפרקטיקות דיסציפלינריות אותנטיות; במגמה זו נעשתה עבודה בתחומים כגון מתמטיקה, היסטוריה, ומדעים. בגלל האוריינטציה העשייתית-תהליכית של לימוד הגמרא, רב הפוטנציאל להגיע עם תלמידים בכיתה למידת קירבה מרבית לעולם העשייה של מבוגרים בתחום דיסציפלינרי זה.

6. לימוד בזוגות חברותא: אחת הפרקטיקות המסורתיות-לכאורה של לימוד התלמוד נקראת חברותא, לימוד עצמאי בזוגות. בתקופה האחרונה, פורסמו ניסיונות להגדיר ולנתח את הפרקטיקה הזאת על ידי הפעלתה במסגרות שונות, כגון תכניות להכשרת מורים, בקרב אוכלוסיות שונות שלאו דווקא מכירות טקסטים מסורתיים. על אף התרומה של מחקרים אלה, הם לא יכולים להעיד על פרקטיקת החברותא במסגרת ישיבתית-מסורתית. לפי תיאוריה חברתית-תרבותית של הלמידה, טיב הלמידה כ"ממוקם" (situated) מכתיב צורך להתייחס להקשר המיידי והרחב של הלמידה.

הפרק השני של העבודה עוסק בתיאור שדה המחקר. ישיבת “דרכי נועם”, תיכון פנימייתי אליטיסטי לבנים בחינוך הדתי לאומי / חרדי לאומי בארץ, שוכנת בקצה עיירה באזור פסטורלי. המבנה הפיזי של בית הספר כולל מבנים חד-חדריים המשמשים לכיתות לימוד; מבנים ארוכים המשמשים פנימיות; ובית המדרש. בית המדרש הנו בניין גדול ונמוך בו מתכנסים תלמידי הישיבה לתפילה שלש פעמים ביום, וכן ללימוד עצמאי בזמנים מסוימים במשך חטיבת הבוקר המיועדת ללימוד הגמרא, ב"סדר ערב," ולעיתים גם בזמנם החופשי המצומצם.

הישיבה היא בית ספר ניסויי שמדגיש את העצמאיות והאחריות של תלמידיו. אין צלצולים, המבחנים הם "מבחני כבוד" ללא נוכחות של איש צוות, ופעילויות כגון עזרה ראשונה, ניקיון, וטיולים מופעלים על ידי תלמידים. תרבות הדיבור בישיבת “דרכי נועם” מאופיינת על ידי כבוד לזולת תוך כדי היכרות וכנות עם העצמי. האתוס הבית-ספרי הוגבר על ידי אתוס נאו-חסידי המתבטא בשירה, בלמידת תכנים חסידיים ובאוצר מילים חסידי, וכן בהופעה החיצונית ובהתנהגויות הדתיות של חלק מן התלמידים. התלמידים ב”דרכי נועם” לומדים ונבחנים לקראת תעודת בגרות מליאה, אך הלימודים

הכלליים, המכונים "לימודי תיכון," תופסים מקום מזערי בחשיבותם לעומת "לימודי הקודש" אשר

ג

מתמקדים בגמרא. לימודי הקודש נתפסים כבעלי ערך אינהרנטי, בניגוד לערך האינסטרומנטלי של לימודי התיכון, אותם מעריכים התלמידים גם לפי עניינם האישי בתחום או בשיעור מסוים. המחקר מתמקד בכיתה הטרוגנית ללימוד הגמרא, כיתת ה-י"ב של הרב עוזי )שם בדוי(. הקבוצה מונה כעשרים ושישה תלמידים. אוכלוסיית התלמידים כוללת תושבי ערים ותושבי יישובים; בנים של רבנים ידועים מהציבור הדתי-ציוני, בעלי מקצועות חופשיים כגון משפטים, חינוך, ורפואה )אבות ואימהות כאחד(, ואנשי עסקים. מרבית התלמידים באים ממשפחות בנות ארבעה עד שמונה אחים.

מתודות המחקר מתוארות בפרק השלישי. המתודולוגיה היא אתנוגראפית, ומשתמשת בכלים איכותניים לצפות בהתנהגות אנושית, לתארה, ולהבינה בתוך הקשר תרבותי מסוים. העבודה שואבת מתחום חקר השיח, במובנו הלשוני-חברתי (Fairclough 2003; Tracy 2005). איסוף הנתונים התבצע בשלשה פרקי זמן אינטנסיביים במשך שנת לימודים אחת, יחד עם ביקורים ותצפיות בין פרקי הזמן הללו ולאחריהם. הנתונים כוללים תצפיות בכיתה, בבית המדרש, ובסביבה הבית-ספרית הכללית; ראיונות עם המורה ועם שלשה-עשר מתלמידי הכיתה )לפי נכונותם להשתתף, על פי הנחיות משרד החינוך(; ואיסוף מסמכים. התמלילים של הראיונות,

השיעורים, והלימוד בחברותא התווספו לרשומות השדה ולניירת הבית-ספרית כגון לוחות זמנים, דפי עבודה, וכדומה. סוגית הגישה לשדה המחקר לא היתה פשוטה, בהיותי אישה וחוקרת. מספר מוסדות דחו את בקשתי, עד שהנהלת “דרכי נועם” פתחה בפני את דלתות בית הספר בכלל, ואת כיתתו של הרב עוזי בפרט. יחד עם החופש שניתן לי, לאחר תקופת ניסיון קצרה, לצפות בשיעורים, לדבר עם אנשי צוות ועם תלמידים, ולהסתובב במרחב הבית-ספרי, הוצבו בפניי מגבלות מסוימות. היו

אירועים שלא יכולתי להיות נוכחת בהם, עקב טיבם האינטימי )כגון מפגש דו-חודשי המיועד לשיחות בין-אישיות בקרב תלמידי הכיתה( או בגלל שנוכחות של אישה אינה מתאימה למעמד )כגון "טיש" חסידי(. נוסף על כך, ביקשו ממני בשלב מסוים לא להסתובב בין השולחנות בבית המדרש, אלא להישאר מאחור, וזאת בעקבות תלונות של תלמידים. גוף העבודה מחולק לשתי חטיבות, כאשר כל חטיבה מתייחסת למרחב בו מתרחשת פעילות של לימוד התלמוד. שני המרחבים הללו הם בית המדרש והכיתה, וכך נקראות שתי החטיבות.

חטיבת "בית המדרש" פותחת בפרק הרביעי של העבודה, בנושא התפילה. פרק זה דן במתח שבין תפיסת התפילה כטקסט קבוע המלווה בפעולות קבועות, ותפיסת התפילה כאקט דתי

ד

אישי וספונטני. מצד אחד, הנתונים – הן ראיונות והן תצפיות – מעידים על המרכזיות של הטקסט הקבוע למעשה התפילה. תלמידים מדברים על הצורך לומר את "מה שיש להגיד" ומתנגדים בפועל לניסיונות של הפרת גבולות בכתיבה עצמית של תפילה. התפילה מוגדרת על ידי זמן, מרחב, וגוף, ואין לחרוג מהגדרות נתונות אלה. מצד שני, התלמידים מגייסים מטפורות אב-בן ומלך-נתין לתאר "קשר ישיר" ודרך "להתקדם בעבודת השם," תוך כדי הבניית משמעות מנותקת במידה כלשהי ממשמעות המילים. המתח הפנימי סביב התפילה ב”דרכי נועם” עובר חידוד וליבון על ידי ניתוח השוואתי

בין-תרבותי של דפוסי תפילה. מתגלה מפה מורכבת של גישות לניסוח התפילה לעומת תכני התפילה, הכוללת בית ספר נוצרי-בפטיסטי שבו תפילה נעשית באופן אד הוק ומאולתר לפי הקשר (Peshkin 1986); מתפללים נוצריים להם חשוב מבנה התפילה יותר מאשר תכניה (Wuthnow 2008); וקהילת האורפמין של פפואה ניו גיני שמשלבת בין נוסחי-פתיחה פרוטסטנטיים ובין תכנים מקומיים מאולתרים (Robbins 2001). מניתוח זה עולה שבישיבת “דרכי נועם”, התפילה מגלה ממד ביצועי (performative), במובנו של אוסטין (1962), כאשר האמירה היא היא העשייה.

קביעת הטקסט של התפילה כמגדיר את אקט התפילה נבחנת באמצעות מספר אפיזודות, בהן נבחנו אפשרויות לחרוג מחלק מנתוני התפילה, אך לא מן התסריט שהוא הטקסט. פיתוח רעיון השילוב שבין הבניית משמעות של היחיד ובין עשייה לפי כללים השווים לכל נפש באמצעות המושג של ריטואל ביצועי פותח צוהר אל תוך עולם הפעולה הדתי של המשתתפים. מושג זה גם משמש פתח להבנת העשייה הדתית הטקסטואלית, לימוד התלמוד. פרק חמש עוסק בתיאור וניתוח הלמידה בבית המדרש. כאן השאלה המרכזית היא האם

וכיצד הלימוד המסורתי, בעל אופי תהליכִ י ועצמאי אשר כונה על ידי היילמן (1983) במונח האידיש לֶערנֶען, מתבצע בתוך כותלי מוסד בית-ספרי. ממצאי המחקר מצביעים על כך שהדבר נעשה על ידי יצירה מתמדת של קהיליית עשייה משגשגת של לומדי הגמרא בבית המדרש, תוך כדי שורה של התאמות הנועדות להגן על האופי המסורתי של הפעולה באותו מרחב. הפרק פותח בדיון סביב שלשה מוקדי למידה בבית המדרש שהם נפרדים מהלימוד העיקרי של הטקסט התלמודי בפרק הזמן שנקרא "סדר בוקר": 1. לימוד וולונטרי בזמנם הפנוי של התלמידים: הערך של "לימוד תורה" בא לידי

ביטוי בלימוד עצמאי של טקסטים לפי בחירת התלמידים, אשר לעיתים מציבים לעצמם יעדי הספק במשנה או בתנ"ך. יחד עם זאת, תלמידים מעידים

ה

שהם לאו דווקא זוכרים את התכנים שלמדו; העיקר בעיניהם הוא שעסקו בפעולת הלמידה. 2. סדר הלכה: כל תלמידי הישיבה אמורים להתכנס בבית המדרש פעמיים בשבוע בשעה קבועה בתחילת סדר הבוקר או בסופו כדי ללמוד הלכה. הלכה הינה הכללים של נורמות התנהגותיות, נושא שאינו תופס מקום מרכזי – אם בכלל – בלימוד התלמוד. לימוד ההלכה במתכונת זאת מתמקד בצבירת ידע, שאותו לומדים התלמידים מתוך ספר ההלכה "שולחן ערוך" ועליו הם נבחנים. תכנית

סדר ההלכה סומנה ככישלון בקרב תלמידיו של הרב עוזי, אשר לרוב לא הגיעו ולא השתתפו בו; לבסוף, הרב עוזי והמורה של הכיתה המקבילה שמו קץ להשתתפות של השמיניסטים בתכנית זאת. 3. סדר ערב: כל תלמיד משתייך למתכונת מחייבת של זמן והספק בסדר הערב, על פי בחירתו. החומר הנלמד בזוגות החברותא חמישה ימים בשבוע בשעות הערב הוא טקסט תלמודי לפי סדר רצוף, עליו נבחנים התלמידים אחת לשבועיים. מניתוח שיח בדגש לשוני על המונחים "כאילו" ו"יושב לומד,"

עולות תובנות לגבי טיב הלמידה של תכנית מוצלחת זאת, בה התלמידים משתתפים באופן קבוע. מהצלחתם של הלימוד העצמאי הוולונטרי ושל סדר הערב, לעומת כישלונו של סדר ההלכה, נובעות מסקנות לגבי סוג הלמידה שנתפס כלגיטימי על ידי המשתתפים בקהיליית העשייה של בית המדרש. למידה המתמקדת בטקסט התלמודי אינה "נפגמת" מעצם קיומן של תוצאות הנתונות לבדיקה; כמו כן, לימוד תורה מתוך בחירה נושא פן תהליכי העולה בקנה אחד

עם הפרקטיקות של קהיליית העשייה. ברם, לימוד שתלוי בתוצאות בלבד אינו משתלב בקהילייה זו. הפרק ממשיך ודן בסדר הבוקר, תוך כדי השוואה עם מבנה הלימודים בישיבות ליטא (Stampfer 2005). הדיון נשען על התיאוריה של ברנשטיין (2003 ;2000) בנושא מידת הסיווג (classification) של מרחב, זמן, ותחום בזירה בית-ספרית, לצד מידת החופש של מִ סגּור (framing) התכנים, הסדר והקצב של החומר הנלמד. הרב עוזי ותלמידיו מַ בנים למידה בעלת מסגור חלש, כלומר, התלמידים קובעים לעצמם מה לומדים ואיך לומדים אותו, בתוך הנחיות

כלליות מאת המורה. למשל, המורה קובע באיזה סוגיה תלמודית מתמקדים, וייתכן שגם מחלק דף עם מקורות, משימות, או שאלות מנחות, אבל אין הדבר אומר שהתלמידים משתמשים בפיגומים

ו

(scaffolding) שהמורה סיפק; התלמידים יכולים לארגן את זמנם ואת הגישה לסוגיה באופן אחר לגמרי. כמו כן, בתוך מרחב בית המדרש, התלמידים קובעים את מקומות הישיבה שלהם, תוך כדי חופש תנועה בזמן הלמידה. מספר אלמנטים בסדר הבוקר מובילים לאִ פיּונו כמוסד חינוכי בעל סיווג חלש, בעל גבולות מטושטשים בין מרחבים, תחומי לימוד, וזמנים. התלמידים עוברים מספר פעמים במשך ארבע השעות של סדר הבוקר בין בית המדרש, הכיתה, ולעתים אף מרחבים אחרים; משבצת ה"גמרא" כוללת בתוכה שיעורים, דיונים וסדנאות בשלל נושאים אקטואליים ו-/או דתיים ;ואין

לפרק זמן זה לוח זמנים כלשהו, כאשר המעברים בין נושאים ובין מרחבים נקבעים ומשתנים מידי יום ומידי שעה. ברם, מנקודת מבט אחרת, מדובר בסיווג חזק, הנועד לשימור המסגור החלש. כל מה שאינו שייך לפעולת הלערנען הּוצא החוצה מכותלי בית המדרש, ופרק הזמן של הלערנען מצטמצם עד לשעה אחת בלבד; בפברואר של אותה שנה, הרב עוזי אף הכניס לוח זמנים לסדר הבוקר. במילים אחרות, בישיבת “דרכי נועם”, המנגנונים של בית הספר )כיתה, לוח זמנים, מטלות לימודיות, וכדומה( באים לחזק את העשייה התלמודית של קהיליית העשייה ולאפשר את זיקתה למה שנתפס כלערנען מסורתי אמיתי; ההתאמה המרכזית מתבטאת בצמצום הזמן במקום

בדילול של התכנים, של הפעולה. הטיב התהליכי של הלערנען, יחד עם הערך התרבותי המרבי שלו, מתבטא בחקר שני היבטים נוספים. ראשון, המורה ותלמידיו כאחד מייחסים ערך גבוה יותר לפעילות בתוך בית המדרש על פני הפעילות בכיתה, כגון השיעור שמעביר הרב עוזי על הסוגיה הנלמדת בבית המדרש. העדפה זאת באה לידי ביטוי בנטייה המוצהרת להיעדר משיעור יותר בקלות מאשר להיעדר מלמידה עצמית בבית המדרש, וכן בהגדרת התלמידים את הלימוד האמיתי או האותנטי.

שנית, השיח סביב השינה בישיבה מגלה, באמצעות ניתוח בין-תרבותי של התפקיד החברתי של השינה, שלאור העובדה שאין הרבה מקומות מפלט לגיטימיים מהעשייה המאתגרת והמוערכת של בית המדרש, הצורך לישון, או הצהרת צורך זה, משמש כפסק זמן בעת שנדרש. הניתוח הכללי של הפעילות בבית המדרש מוביל לפרק שש, המתייחס לפעולת הלמידה עצמה, הלימוד בזוגות החברותא. המרואיינים מתארים את הפעילות בשני מישורים עיקריים, המישור הבין-אישי, דהיינו הלומד מול החברותא שלו, והמישור הטקסטואלי, הלומד מול הטקסט התלמודי. המישורים הללו מתקיימים בו-זמנית, במשולש יחסים (relational triangle) מורכב

(Raider-Roth & Holzer 2009). תלמידים מחפשים בחברותא תכונות מסוימות, כגון לומד קצת יותר מתקדם, או אדם שיודע להקשיב לזולת, או מי שמוכן לקבל דעה אחרת מהדעה שלו עצמו,

ז

ובעיקר מעוניינים שהחברותא יעזור לו להתגבר על הקושי הבסיסי הכרוך בישיבה ובהתמקדות בלימוד. שני צירי פעולה עולים מתוך ניתוח תיאורי המשתתפים את הפעילות הלימודית בחברותא: ציר תלמיד-מורה, וציר לומד-טקסט. ציר התלמיד-מורה מעלה שאלה של סמכות אפיסטמית (epistemic authority): למי הזכות לפרש את הטקסט התלמודי? בציר זה, המתלמד עושה את דרכו, תוך כדי השתתפות פריפריאלית לגיטימית בקהיליית העשייה, לכיוון ההשתתפות המלאה יותר, המומחיות. המורה, בביטוי של הזהות הדיסקורסיבית )מומחה בקהיליית עשייה(

ואולי גם של הזהות הסמכותית )מורה בבית ספר( (Gee 2000-2001), מחזיק בסמכות אפיסטמית מרבית; בה בעת, מתגלה שלפי תפיסותיהם ופעולותיהם של הרב עוזי ותלמידיו, ככל שהתלמידים מגיעים להשתתפות מלאה יותר, כך הם מקבלים סמכות אפיסטמית גדולה יותר. כלומר, מדובר בזכות דיסקורסיבית ולאו דווקא בזכות סמכותית. הציר השני, לומד-טקסט, מציב שאלה אפיסטמית נוספת: היכן "שוכן" הידע, או מה נחשב למקור ידע לגיטימי? בשאלה הזאת, יוצאת מהנתונים תמונה רב-משמעית ואף מעורפלת. ישנם תלמידים הרואים את עצמם כמשתתפים פעילים בהבניית הידע; תלמידים אחרים תופסים את

הטקסט כמקור-ידע סמכותי וסטטי. הפרק מעלה שלשה הסברים אפשריים – שאינם שוללים זה את זה – לתופעה זו: )א( שתי הגישות אינן כה שונות זו מזו, ושתיהן תומכות בקטגוריות שהוצעו לעיל, אך הדוברים השונים נמצאים בנקודות שונות על פני הצירים; )ב( אנשים שונים חווים את אותה הסיטואציה בדרכים שונות; )ג( מידת ההשתתפות של האדם משפיעה על הדרך בה הוא חווה את קהיליית העשייה, כאשר מומחה אוחז לא רק בזכות אפיסטמית אלא גם משתתף בהבניית ידע חדש, אופציה שאינה פתוחה בפני משתתף פריפריאלי יותר. גורם נוסף

שנכנס למכלול הוא מקומה של המסורת הפרשנית: האם פרשן מסוג כלשהו נחשב ללומד, או שמא הוא נחשב לטקסט? שאלה זו עולה מניתוח הלמידה בבית המדרש, והדיון בה מתרחב בחטיבה העוסקת בכיתה. יתר הפרק מוקדש לניתוחו של מפגש חברותא אחד, של אהרון וגבריאל. לאחר תהליך מסובך של איסוף נתונים בבית המדרש, כולל תצפיות מוקלטות של מפגשי חברותא, הבחירה במפגש הספציפי נובעת משני שיקולים. ראשון, גבריאל ואהרון עשו לאורך כל הדרך רושם של תלמידים בעלי השתתפות ממוצעת ובינונית; הם אינם בין המשתתפים המלאים ביותר,

המצטיינים, אך מגיעים לבית המדרש ולשיעור וממלאים את הדרישות המוצבות בפניהם. שנית, טיב הלמידה במפגש המנותח משקף שלב אשר מוכר לכל לומד, ההיכרות הראשונית עם טקסט

ח

תלמודי מסוים. לאור שיקולים אלה, ועל רקע התצפיות הכלליות בבית המדרש, הבחירה היא במפגש חברותא התואם ואף מייצג – במידה שהדבר אפשרי – את העשייה התלמודית בקרב תלמידי הרב עוזי בבית המדרש. מפגש החברותא, אשר משכו כשעה, מתקיים לאחר שיעור גמרא בכיתה. הרב עוזי ציין בסוף השיעור מהיכן בטקסט יש להתחיל ועד היכן יש להגיע, ואף הזכיר שלש פסקאות של פירוש בעלי התוספות שהתלמידים אמורים ללמוד. המורה אף ציין את האפשרות שהתלמידים ימשיכו וילמדו בכיוונים נוספים, "מעבר לזה," לפי בחירתם. לאחר מעבר אופייני מהכיתה אל בית המדרש

והתארגנות במקום החדש – תהליך שלוקח כרבע שעה ואף יותר – אהרון וגבריאל מתחילים ללמוד. הטקסט הנבחר )בבא מציעא כד.( עוסק בדינו של אבדה לאור הרכב האוכלוסייה במקום הִ מצאּה. מובא מקור תנאי הקובע שלפי רבי שמעון בן אלעזר, אבדה שנמצאה "בכל מקום שהרבים מצויין שם" שייכת למוצא, כי הבעלים התייאשו. )כלל בסיסי הוא בדיני אבדה שייאוש הבעלים מנתק את הקשר ביניהם לחפץ, ולכן דנים הרבה בנסיבות בהן יכול המוצא להסיק מסקנה שהבעלים התייאשו, ובאיזה נסיבות לא התייאשו וחייב המוצא להכריז על מציאת

האבדה.( הגמרא דנה בליבון שיטת רבי שמעון בן אלעזר לעומת שיטת רוב הרבנים )"רבנן"(, ומתייחסת למקומות של "רוב ישראל" בניגוד למקומות שבהם האוכלוסייה מורכבת מ"רוב כנענים." הטקסט מורכב משאלות בינאריות )"אם X אז A או B?"( שגבריאל ואהרון מזהים ומארגנים בייצוג גרפי )"יש פה לוח התרשים"(. למרות זאת הם מתקשים בהבנת התפתחות הסוגיה, על אף שליטתם באוצר המילים ובעקרונות מבנה הדיון. המפגש, אשר חּולק לשמונה חלקים, מורכב משלשה מחזורים של קריאת קטע וניסיון להבינו; דיון פרשני במכלול; החלטה

להתייעץ עם המורה )אהרון הולך לדבר עם הרב עוזי(; הסבר הטקסט על ידי אהרון מפי הרב עוזי; ניסיון להמשיך בטקסט; סיום המפגש. את הגבולות בין החלקים ניתן לזהות על פי סמני שיח (discourse markers) של התלמידים )כגון "בסדר" ו"טוב"( וכן לפי סמני שיח של השיח התלמודי בפי התלמידים )למשל "תא שמע," המסמן ציטטה חדשה(. סמנים אלה בולטים במפגש החברותא, מפני שלרוב, השיח של אהרון וגבריאל אינו מסומן. הם נכנסים אחד לתוך דברי השני בהשלמת רעיונות ומשפטים, עוברים בין דיבור וציטוט מבלי לציין זאת, וקוראים את דברי הפרשן רש"י אל תוך הטקסט

התלמודי באופן לא מסומן. פרקטיקות הקריאה שלהם דומות יותר לפרקטיקות של מומחים בתחומים אחרים כגון היסטוריה (Wineburg 1991), ולא לאלה של מתלמדים, כאשר הם מביעים

ט

בגוף ראשון את הקולות של כל השחקנים התלמודיים והפרשניים, כפי שעולה מתוך ניתוח השימוש בכינויי גוף. ניתוח זה נשען על היכולת של אלמנטים לשוניים להעביר את העשייה להקשר חדש (Ochs 1990) (recontextualize). ההקשר המיידי של הטקסט אינו עובר לרוב העברה או העתקה על ידי התלמידים להקשרם העכשווי; היוצא מן הכלל הוא כאשר "עיר שישראל וכנענים דרים בה" הופכת להיות "מן עכו כזה." בדרך כלל, התלמידים נכנסים לעולמם של רבי שמעון ורבנן, "ישראלים" ו"כנענים", מבלי להתייחס להשלכות והשפעות של עולם זה לעולם שלהם. בולט במיוחד חוסר ההתייחסות

שלהם להנחה שאין ייאוש בסביבה יהודית כי יהודים מחזירים אבדות, מה שאין כן בני אומות אחרות. ההשלכות אמנם מורחקות בגלל השימוש במונח "כנעני," אומה שכבר איננה קיימת )וגם לא הייתה קיימת בתקופה בה המירו את המילה "גויים" ל"כנענים" בטקסט התלמודי.( הפרק ממשיך ודן בכל חלק של מפגש החברותא. בתמצית ניתן לומר שהעשייה האופיינית ביותר לחברותא היא קריאת הטקסט שוב ושוב. קוראים כאשר מבינים וכאשר לא מבינים, כאשר מסבירים וכאשר שוללים הסברים. חשיבות פחותה מיוחסת לתוצר ופחות עניין מובע בה מאשר בתהליך. אהרון וגבריאל מסיימים את הלימוד ללא הבנה מספקת, ללא סיכום, וללא התייחסות

לדברי בעלי התוספות שהמורה ביקש. הערך הוא בסוג הפעילות, המאופיינת על ידי פרקטיקות קריאה מתקדמות. הפרק מסתיים עם המסקנה שהלמידה היא סוג של ריטואל שמעביר את הסמכות האפיסטמית ללומד )בה בעת שאהרון וגבריאל מַ בנים את הטקסט כמקור הידע(, תוך כדי מנגנון של מושג חדש, ניכוס אפיסטמי (epistemic appropriation). ניכוס אפיסטמי פירושו לקיחת זכויות של פרשן, וכמעט זכויות של מחבר, על ידי הלומד, על אף שהוא אינו בהכרח תורם לידע או אפילו מבין את הנלמד.

חטיבת הכיתה מתחילה בפרק שבע, העוסק בהבניית השיעור. השיעור מתקיים במבנה חד-חדרי בקמפוס הישיבה. האלמנטים הארכיטקטוניים של הכיתה מצביעים על סביבת למידה המתרכזת במורה; הוא זה שיושב ליד שלחן גדול בקדמת הכיתה, כאשר התלמידים יושבים בשורות וטורים של שולחנות זוגיים. ברם, יש בסידור זה מידה מסוימת של נזילות. לעתים, במיוחד בדיונים יותר רגשיים ופחות טקסטואליים, כולם יושבים במעגל של כסאות. פעמים אחרות יושבים סביב שולחן אחד גדול, המורכב ממספר שולחנות קטנים; בצורת ישיבה זאת, אין מספיק מקומות ישיבה לכל התלמידים, ואלה שנכנסים אחרונים נשארים בפריפריה, בהמחשה

פיזית של ההשתתפות הפריפריאלית. הרב עוזי מתייחס לאופציות מגוונות כמצב אידיאלי, אך לרוב, הישיבה בכיתה מתבצעת במתכונת הסטנדרטית. בדומה לסידורי הישיבה, תפקיד הלוח

י

בכיתה נע בין כלי המשרת את ידו ואת קולו של המורה, ובין כלי המייצג את קולות התלמידים, לפעמים לצד קולותיהם של הפרשנים המסורתיים. התלמידים מתייחסים לשיעור בדרכים שונות, אך בולט מכנה משותף אחד: משקל הכובד של הלמידה אינו בשיעור אלא בבית המדרש. לגבי היחס בין בית המדרש לכיתה, וכן הערך של השיעור, מתגלים חילוקי דעות. קולות בודדים מתארים את השיעור כמגרש המשחק של המורה, אשר קובע את הכללים ואת המהלכים. דבר זה מגביל, לדברי אותם התלמידים, את השתתפותו ומעורבותו של התלמיד בתהליך הלמידה. מרבית המשתתפים מתארים תמונה של שיעור בו כל

זוג וזוג משתף את הקהילייה בפרי עבודתו בבית המדרש. תפקיד המורה, לפי תפיסה זו, הוא לארגן את דברי התלמידים, לתרום להתפתחותם, ולעתים רחוקות גם להביע עמדה או להציג ידע חדש. בין התלמידים, יש כאלה המעריכים את העשייה הזו כתוספת והמשך של העשייה בבית המדרש; אחרים לא רואים בה ערך גדול, היות ועיקר העשייה המשמעותית נעשתה כבר בבית המדרש; ואפילו אחד שמתנגד לעצם העובדה שתלמידים מציעים פירושים המנוגדים לפירושים מסורתיים. בניתוח הנתונים הללו, מתגלה מתח בין יצירתיות ועצמאיות בלימוד התלמוד, ובין

סמכותיות של מורה ו-/או של מסורת פרשנית. הפרק דן בתפקידה של המסורת הפרשנית, ובמקומו של הלומד מול מסורת זאת. מוצע שלאור המעמד המעין-קנוני של המסורת הפרשנית, דבר שמביא בו זמנית לגמישות ולמוגבלות בעבודה פרשנית מאוחרת יותר (cf. Halbertal 1997), התלמיד מחויב לאותם הכללים כמו כל פרשן אחר. על הלומד לבנות על, אך לא לסתור את, דברי קודמיו, בתהליך לימודי בעל היבט יצירתי לצד היבט סמכותי. המורכבות של העשייה התלמודית המתוארת על ידי המרואיינים מתבטאת בשילוב בין שאלת מקור הידע ובין שאלת הסמכות

האפיסטמית. הפרק השמיני של העבודה עוסק בניתוח שיעור גמרא אחד. במעבר מהלימוד בבית המדרש ללימוד בכיתה, נשאלות שתי שאלות עיקריות: 1. בית המדרש מכיל קהיליית עשייה שבה הרבה לומדים, ברמות שונות של פריפריאליות, משתתפים בפעילות הלערנען. האם קהיליית העשייה הזאת מתקיימת גם בכיתה, מרחב בו שולטת הדיכוטומיה של תלמיד-מורה? מה הם המנגנונים לתחזוקת קהיליית העשייה, או לתפעול מודל חילופי?

2. בתוך בית המדרש, סמכות אפיסטמית נמצאת אצל כל לומד. בכיתה, בין קולות הטקסט והפרשנים, המורה והתלמידים, למי ניתנת הזכות האפיסטמית?

יא

השיעור הנבחר התרחש מיד לאחר מפגש החברותא של גבריאל ואהרון, כדי לשמור על בהירות וקוהרנטיות של הסוגיה התלמודית הנלמדת. בשיעור הספציפי הזה, שנותח על רקע שלל התצפיות בכיתה, ניתן למצוא אלמנטים החוזרים על עצמם בשיעורים רבים, כך שאפשר לומר שהם אופייניים לשיעור הגמרא של הרב עוזי. במשך ההקלטה )כארבעים דקות(, מופיעים 643 תורי דיבור, 121 של המורה ו212- של תלמידים, מספרים המעידים על רמה גבוהה של השתתפות תלמידים ביחס לממוצע בכיתות סטנדרטיות (Cazden 2001). מתוך כעשרים התלמידים שנמצאים בשיעור, ניתן להבחין בשלשה

עשר קולות שונים. הרמה הגבוהה של השתתפות התלמידים מתבטאת גם בכך שתלמידים דנים בחומר הנלמד בטרם הגעתו של המורה. החברותא של בית המדרש מתפתחת לחבורת לומדים בתוך הכיתה, חבורה שפעילותה נפסקת כאשר מגיע הרב עוזי. לאחר שלשה מחזורים קצרים של שיח שאינו מתייחס ישירות לטקסט התלמודי, הרב עוזי פותח את השיעור – שבעצם נפתח קודם לכן בלעדיו – עם חלוקת דף עבודה. בדף הזה מופיע צילום של חלק מדף הגמרא, שאלות שבאופן פיזי ומטפורי "יוצאות" מהטקסט, ובפינה, צילום של קטע מספר הרשב"א, פרשן מימי הביניים. אין בדף מקום המסומן לכתיבה כלשהי, ואין

כל צפייה שהתלמידים ירשמו באופן פורמלי תשובות לשאלות; הדף מספק פיגומים ללמידה, תוך כדי שמירת דגש על הטקסט התלמודי. בשיעור הנוכחי, לא מגיעים לדף, ולמחרת, המורה מחלק גרסה חדשה של אותו הדף, תוך כדי בקשה להתעלם מהדף המקורי. אפיזודה זו ממחישה את נטייתו של הרב עוזי לשנות, לרענן, וליצור מחדש את תכנית הלימודים בעשייה היומיומית שלו. למרות שהוא למד ואף לימד את הפרק הספציפי כבר מספר פעמים, הוא תמיד מדווח על התייעצויות ומחשבות המביאות לידי שינויים. בכך, הוא מגלם את שתי הזהויות המרכזיות שלו

בכיתה: )א( מורה בכיתה, שעוקב אחרי התקדמות תלמידיו ותואם את חומר הלימודים לצרכיהם; )ב( מומחה בקהיליית עשייה, שמדגים את הפרקטיקות של הקהילייה, דהיינו לעסוק בטקסט באופן מתמשך וחוזר, לקרוא ולפרש אותו כל פעם מחדש. הפרק ממשיך ודן בשימוש בכינויים בכיתה. רוב השימושים בכל הכינויים, מלבד כינויי גוף ראשון יחיד, מתייחסים למי שלא נמצא בחדר באופן פיזי בזמן הדיבור. כלומר, המילים "הם," "אתה," "אתם," ו"אנחנו" לרוב אינן מצביעות על הרב עוזי ותלמידיו בלבד, אם בכלל. הרפרנט החילופי הנפוץ ביותר הוא המחברים התלמודיים; מדברים עליהם )"הם"(, אליהם )"אתה/אתם"(,

ובמקומם )"אנחנו"(. כינוי שזוכה לעניין מחקרי (e.g. Fortanet 2004; Rounds 1987) הוא גוף ראשון רבים, שמשמש יותר באופן "אינקלוסיבי" (inclusive) מאשר "אקסקלוסיבי" (exclusive).

יב

כינוי זה מצביע בהרבה מקרים על קבוצה גדולה המכילה את הדובר )עם או בלי השומעים(, יחד עם, למשל, מומחים בתחום הנלמד. כמחצית מהופעות ה"אנחנו" בשיעור הגמרא מתייחסות לאנשים החיים בעידן הנוכחי, ולשימוש זה אני קוראת "האנחנו העכשווי" (contemporary-we). במחצית השנייה של ההופעות, הרפרנט הוא מחברי התלמוד ולומדיו לאורך ההיסטוריה. לשימוש זה אני קוראת "האנחנו המנכיח" (presentizing-we). הנכחה היא אמצעי לקביעת מִ יָּדִ יּות, רלוונטיות, או נגישות לטקסט מתקופה אחרת. במקרים רבים, הנכחה נעשית על ידי "עדכון" הטקסט העתיק, באמצעות תרגומים, הבאת ציטטות בודדות מתוך הטקסט, קישור ישיר בין תכני

הטקסטים לחוויות היומיומיות של הלומדים, וכדומה. הרב עוזי מבצע הנכחה באופן אחר לגמרי, תוך כדי גישה א-היסטורית הממקמת את התלמידים באותו מישור זמן )ואף מרחב( עם המחברים התלמודיים, גישה שמעניקה לתלמידים זכות אפיסטמית של פרשני התלמוד. עולמו של הטקסט, ולא עולמם של התלמידים, משמש לנקודת מוצא של הלמידה. מלבד סוגיית הרלוונטיות, לפרקטיקת ההנכחה ישנן השלכות בשני כיוונים נוספים: )1( תגבור מטפורי של שורות המומחים, לעומת מלמדים, בקהיליית העשייה, כאשר לצדו של הרב עוזי עומדים מחברי התלמוד ופרשניו המסורתיים; )2( הנכחת הקולות הקדומים עשויה להשתיק, במידה מסוימת, קולות חדשים, כאשר

"אנחנו" ממשיכים להעלות ולהוכיח אך ורק את אותם הדברים שהּועלו והּוכחו כבר במשך דורות. החצי השני של הפרק מתמקד בניתוחו של השיעור על פי שני דפוסי השתתפות (participant structures): רצף ה-IRE והדיון. משתי קבוצות של רצפי IRE, עולים מספר עקרונות. ראשית כל, ה"תסריט" (Gutierrez, Rymes & Larson 1995) של המורה מיועד לא רק להגיע לתשובה מסוימת או לידע מסוים, אלא להגן על זכות הדיבור של תלמיד מסוים. כלומר, הרב עוזי ממנה תלמיד שיענה לשאלות, או שידקלם את התשובות, ומתעקש על השתתפותו של

תלמיד זה, תוך כדי השתקה של תלמידים אחרים, אפילו אלה שנותנים את התשובה שהרב עוזי בסופו של דבר מאשר מפי התלמיד הממונה. שנית, המורה מבנה את עצמו כמקור הידע והסמכות לאשר את הידע, באמצעות שליטה חברתית. שלישית, לעתים מסתמן חוסר הבנה על ידי התלמידים לגבי סוג דפוס ההשתתפות, ולפעמים הם מפגינים התנגדות בסיטואציה של ה-IRE, לטובת דפוסי השתתפות המשקפים את הסמכות האפיסטמית של עצמם. מהניתוח עולה שרצפי ה-IRE משחקים תפקיד מוגבל אך חשוב בשיעור התלמוד. ראוי לציין שזהו איננו דפוס ההשתתפות הדומיננטי בשיעור. אלא, הוא משמש כלי לדקלום טקסט פרשני, לרוב בתחילת

שיעור או נושא, תוך כדי גילום יחסי מתלמד-מומחה אחד על אחד בין התלמיד הממונה והמורה. זוהי דרך נוספת לאפשר את קיומה של קהיליית עשייה פעילה למרות חוסר הפרופורציה בין

יג

מתלמדים רבים ומומחה בודד. המקרה של ה-IRE ממחיש את התנועה המתמדת של הרב עוזי בין זהות מוסדית של מורה וזהות דיסקורסיבית של מומחה, ובמיוחד את רתימת הראשון לטובת האחרון. בשיעורי התלמוד, מתקיימים דיונים המציגים ספקטרום רחב של אפשרויות מבניות ואינטראקטיביות. הרצף המבני מתחיל מסיטואציות בהן מדבר המורה בכל תור שני, ומגיע עד לסיטואציות בהן מתבצעים תורי דיבור רבים של תלמידים שונים, ללא אף תור של המורה. כמו כן, הרצף האינטראקטיבי נע ממידה רבה של שליטת המורה, ועד לדיון עצמאי בין תלמידים. שני

דיונים בשיעור הנוכחי מתמקמים בקרבת הקצוות של הספקטרום. הניתוח של שני הדיונים הללו מתבסס על הבנת רמת פני השטח (surface level) של האינטראקציה ועל רמת היסוד

(underlying level) של הארגומנטציה (Bloome, Carter, Christian, Otto & Shuart-Faris 2010). מרמת היסוד של הדיון הראשון, עולה וויכוח בין הרב עוזי לחלק מתלמידיו לגבי אילו מקורות ידע הם לגיטימיים, כאשר הרב עוזי טוען שידע ופרשנות לגיטימיים הם אלה שכבר נאמרו ונמסרו בפי המסורת הפרשנית, ואילו התלמידים מחזיקים בזכות האפיסטמית של הלומד, במידה מסוימת של אוטונומיה ויצירתיות. גישתו הסמכותית של הרב עוזי אינה מאפיינת את רוב השיח התלמודי

שלו, אך בולטת במספר דוגמאות מתוך הנתונים. מרמת פני השטח של הדיון השני, מתגלה תמונה של מורה ותלמידים שהם שווים בהשתתפותם מבחינת זכויות ותפקידים, תמונה שהיא שונה מזאת המצטיירת בספרות בנושא דיון "אותנטי" וכיתה "לא מסורתית," בהם למורה עדיין יש תפקיד ברור ומרכזי בניהול הדיון (e.g. Cazden 2001; Reisman 2011). מהניתוח עולה כי המורה מגלם זהות דיסקורסיבית של מומחה, תוך כדי הפגנת מומחיות לגיטימית אך מוגבלת מצד התלמידים, מוטיב שעולה במקביל מרמת היסוד.

הפרק של ניתוח השיעור מסתיים עם דיון קצר בנושא ההלכה הנורמטיבית, שתופסת מקום מזערי אך ניכר בכיתה. המשגת הגישה להלכה כגמישה במידה מוגבלת, או פתוחה לטווח מוגדר של אפשרויות, משליכה אור על הגישה המקבילה לפרשנות התלמוד. הפרק התשיעי והאחרון עוסק במסקנות. לאחר סקירה קצרה של הנתונים ושל הקווים המובילים בניתוח, מפותח מודל להבנת מנגנוני החִ ברות שמופעלים באמצעות לימוד התלמוד בישיבת “דרכי נועם”. המודל הזה נעזר בשני מושגים מתוך תיאוריית הפעילות: סתירות וטרנספורמציות מרחיבות (Engeström 2001) (expansive transformations). הסתירות

המבניות נוגעות בשני תחומים. הסתירה הראשונה, המלווה בשורה של טרנספורמציות, היא בין מערכת הפעולה (activity system) של התלמוד ובין מערכת הפעולה של בית הספר. הסתירה

יד

השנייה, והמשמעותית יותר, מתקיימת בתוך מערכת הפעולה של התלמוד. סתירה פנימית זו מתרחשת בין למידה אוטונומית ויצירתית שבה התלמידים מחזיקים בסמכות אפיסטמית ובכוח לחדש, ובין גישה סמכותית שלפיה הסמכות האפיסטמית שוכנת במסורת הפרשנית ובמייצגיה. המודל המוצע מתחקה אחרי תפקידיהם של האלמנטים הסותרים-לכאורה בתוך תהליך החִ ברות. להלן תמצית של הרעיונות המרכזיים: שיח האוטונומיה ושיח הסמכות הם שני חלקים לא שווים של אותה מערכת, חלקים שמתקיימת ביניהם הפרייה הדדית מתמדת. שיח האוטונומיה, שתופס נפח גדול יותר, מטפח

ותומך בפרקטיקות שנתפסות כאותנטיות, ובפיתוח מומחיות על ידי הלומדים. העשייה התלמודית ה"אותנטית" גורמת לעיצוב זהות של לומד תלמוד. זהות של לומד תלמוד מביאה לידי השתייכות לחברה של לומדי התלמוד, בתוך כותלי בית הספר ואף מחוצה להם. בו בזמן, הפן הסמכותי מחזק שימור ושכפול חברתי, דבר שאף הוא תומך בפרקטיקות שנתפסות כאותנטיות ובפיתוח מומחיות על ידי הלומדים, ולבסוף לידי השתייכות לחברה. אני מציעה הסבר לצורך בשני הצדדים, האוטונומי והסמכותי. שיח האוטונומיה נזקק לשיח הסמכות כדי לרסן חידוש שעשוי לגרום לטרנספורמציה רדיקלית, ולשמֵ ר את המבנים ואת התכנים של החברה ככל שאפשר )על אף

ששינוי חברתי יכול להיות הליך בלתי נמנע(. מצד שני, שיח הסמכות נזקק לשיח האוטונומיה כדי להבטיח את גיוסם ואת חניכתם של חברים חדשים אל תוך אותה חברה אשר המשכיותה מובטחת על ידי שיח הסמכות. העבודה מסתיימת עם מגבלות של המחקר ובהשלכותיו, וכן בכיווני מחקר נוספים. המחקר פותח צוהר אל תוך קיומה של קהיליית עשייה דיסציפלינרית בתוך מסגרת בית ספרית, וחושף מנגנוני פעולה וכן אתגרים ותמורות. ייחודיותה של העשייה התלמודית, המתבטאת למשל

באוריינטציה תהליכית ללמידת טקסטים בעלי ערך תרבותי, בוודאי תורמת להצלחת המפעל, אך מתבקש מחקר שבודק את האפשרות – וכן את מידת הנחיצות – של קיומן של קהיליות עשייה דומות בדיסציפלינות אחרות. כמו כן, היות ועולה מן הנתונים שהמעבר למציאות של השתתפות התלמידים, פריפריאלית ככל שתהיה, דורש מידה מסוימת של יכולת או ידע, עולה השאלה מהיכן ידע בסיסי זה? השאלה הזאת יורדת ליסודותיו של החינוך הקונסטרוקטיביסטי, ומבקשת את תשומת לבם של חוקרי החינוך.

טו

תוכן העניינים

חטיבה I: מבוא

פתח דבר 1 סקירה תמציתית 2 פרק 1: סקירת הספרות 6 1.1 הוראת התלמוד: רקע ורציונל למחקר 6 1.2 התלמוד ולימודו 11

1.3 עשייה בית-ספרית ולמידה 16 1.4 מחקרים אתנוגרפיים על בתי ספר דתיים 23 1.5 שיח בכיתה 26 1.6 לימוד בזוגות חברותא 31 פרק 2: שדה המחקר 34 2.1 הקשר: מערכת החינוך בישראל 34 2.2 האוכלוסייה והמבנים של בית הספר 35

2.3 האתוס הבית-ספרי 38 פרק 3: שיטות המחקר 42 3.1 מתודולוגיה 42 3.2 איסוף הנתונים 43 3.3 גישה: ראשונית ומתמשכת 46 3.4 מיקום החוקרת 48

חטיבה II: בית המדרש: בית למידה, בית תפילה

מבוא: "תורה ותפילה. זה בא ביחד." 55 פרק 4: בית תפילה: "הוא בתוך זה" 54 4.1 תפילה ספונטנית, תפילה מתוסרטת 55 4.2 מתוסרט ומקודש: "מה שיש להגיד" 56 4.3 הפרת גבולות באמצעות תפילה 62

4.4 תפילה כריטואל פרפורמטיבי 67

פרק 5: בית למידה: "יהודי לומד" 73 5.1 פעילות מתמשכת במרחב המקודש: "אני בזמני הפנוי לומד" 73 5.2 לֶערנֶען במבנים בית-ספריים: סדר הלכה וסדר ערב 75 5.3 סדר ערב: "אתה יושב לומד" 76 5.4 חונכות: "יש לי חמשוש" 84 5.5 סדר בוקר: ישיבה פוגשת בית ספר 87

5.6 זמן מקודש: מסגרת חיצונית 95 5.7 מרחב מקודש: האויצר 93 5.8 תלמידים ומורים: "את רוב העבודה אנחנו עושים בסדר" 155 5.9 בחירות והחלטות: "בסדרים אני ... כן מקפיד להגיע." 154 5.15 אתגרים: "לנצל את הסדר הזה" 159 5.11 שינה בישיבה: פסק זמן 112 פרק 6: לימוד בחברותא: "הדרך הכי טובה בערך לעשות את זה" 122

6.1 שלישיות והפרעות: התכנסות וסמיוטיקה 123 6.2 חברותא מהו: "שגם הוא יקשיב וילמד" 125 6.3 תלמידים על החברותא: "מה אנחנו רוצים ללמוד היום" 131 6.4 דרכי השתתפות: מודל אנליטי 145 6.5 איסוף ובחירת נתונים: "שאון קבוע" 142 6.6 תצפיות במפגשי חברותא: "יש בזה משהו" 144 6.7 פעילות בסיסית בבית המדרש: היכרות עם אהרון וגבריאל 148

6.8 הוראות לסדר: "היום צריכים לקרוא משמה" 151 6.9 מבוא למפגש: טקסט ותורים 157 6.15 גבולות של קטעים: "טוב. תא שמע..." 165 6.11 סמני שיח, ציטוט, כינויים, החלפת קודים, ומתן הקשר חדש: "לא חייב להיות בית כנסת" 166 6.12 מפגש החברותא: פרקטיקות קריאה, יעדים, ודרכי שיח 178 6.13 לֶערנֶען כריטואל: ניכוס אפיסטמי 251

בית המדרש: מסקנות 254

חטיבה III: הכיתה: פרשנות וזהויות

מבוא: מבית המדרש לכיתה 259 פרק 7: הבניית הכיתה: "אתה משתתף במשהו" 215 7.1 אלמנטים ארכיטקטוניים: "שיהיו לי שלושה חדרי כיתה" 215 7.2 הלוח: הרצאה וחבורה 218 7.3 השתתפות התלמידים: "מה שממש משנה הכל זה הסדר" 222 7.4 תפקידו של המורה: "יש כל מיני סוגים של שיעורים" 224

7.5 אי-השתתפות: "בכיתה זה מאוד מגביל" 235 7.6 מסורת פרשנית: "הוא לא מסכים עם רש"י" 235 פרק 8: השיעור: פרקטיקות דיסקורסיביות והבניית דרכי שיח 242 8.1 תלמידים בכיתה: מחברותא לחבורה 243 8.2 דף עבודה: עיבוד מחדש 246 8.3 השימוש בכינויים בכיתה: רב-קוליּות והנכחה 251

8.4 רצפי IRE: חניכות אישית ושליטת המורה 265

8.5 דיונים בכיתה: זכויות דיבור ומקורות ידע 267 8.6 הלכה נורמטיבית בכיתה: גמישות מוגבלת 291 הכיתה: מסקנות 299

חטיבה IV: מסקנות

פרק 9: לימוד התלמוד כח ברּות בישיבת דרכי נועם 353

9.1 סקירת הממצאים וניתוחם 354 9.2 דיון 358 9.3 סמכות, אוטונומיה, וחיברות: הצעת מודל 313 9.5 מגבלות המחקר 317 9.6 השלכות וכיוונים למחקר נוסף 325

ביבליוגרפיה 325

נספחים

נספח A: קונבנציות התיעתוק 346

נספח B: דף התלמוד 347

נספח C: תמליל מפגש החברותא 348

נספח D: תמליל השיעור 365

תקציר עברי א