Beyond A Doubt
-"Halacha course canceled due to lack of interest."
That was the shocking yet vaguely amusing announcement we heard over the PA. It was my Junior year in an orthodox day school in what is now a very frum community. Apparently some administrator took it upon himself to actually consider areas of student interest, or disinterest for that matter, even to the point of sidelining a hallmark of Jewish education. Obviously, it is imperative for a religious student to absorb the tenants of the faith or in the very least be aware of the rules which he is breaking. It's somehow more fun that way. But that year was to be robbed of its mischievous transgressions. If we didn't know the laws, we couldn't be guilty of violating them nor would we have the temptation to do so in the first place. Shlomo Auslander has a great related article (Hat tip:NJG).
But what is it about Halacha that seemed so useless to our school yet always served me well in cure of insomnia or as a coaster? For all of you who heard about halacha but never got to read from the text, the answer is this. It's just page after page of dry, boring facts that requires an equivalent of a law degree to become proficient. At the time, I just shrugged and said, "Great!"
But I have come to appreciate the significance behind that moment, even more so lately. I guess I had gotten used to years worth of technical educational manuals that I had forgotten what it was like to learn about life through the fictional escapades of others. Much more illuminating and better retained are the gleaned words of wisdom or useful insights from stories, in the context of an enjoyable parable rather than from dry lists.
I recently listened to the book-on-tape, The Salmon Of Doubt, compiled from Douglas Adam's writings. One 2-page story, entitled "Cookies," made a great impression upon me. Go to your library and read in the real book page 150-1 for the full flavor. Should you proceed here further, you can save a quarter on inter-library loan because I do reveal the punch line. In brief, he was sitting at a table waiting for a train with his package of cookies, coffee and a newspaper. Opposite him was a businessman who proceeded to open the package of cookies and eat one of the cookies! Douglas said nothing but ate the next of his cookies and then the man ate the following. Douglas was upset but didn't know how to deal with this affront. His tension was building as was his righteous indignation. When the package was finished the man walked off. He then looked under his paper and found his own sealed package of cookies beneath his paper. He had been eating the other man's cookies all along while that man quietly suffered the infraction!
Douglas had been so sure of his take on what was happening, considered rebuking the man, was horrified and yet resigned to refrain from confrontation. His reality during those moments seemed as clear to him as anything else he would bet his life on but one little itty bitty fact was missing and that changed the entire meaning and context of his exchange. Could there really exist another perspective?
My friend complained to me recently about the character of another friend's wife pointing to the fact that she never sent a thank you card to him for a wedding gift sent 10 years ago. First off, I was surprised he remembered who sent him thank you cards and that he could hold a grudge so long. Secondly, I told him Douglas' story and asked him to consider if his gift was lost in the mail, or her thank you card was lost as well. Perhaps, the husband had agreed to write it and failed to do so thus absolving the wife. I asked him to take a step back and consider there might be alternate realities than the one he felt so grounded in. It's a lesson that could be summed up in a book of facts as "Don't jump to conclusions or off cliffs for that matter" or "Things may not be as they seem on the surface unless you're actually on the surface" or "Don't judge a book by its cover unless its pornography" but in the absence a very telling context they are just neat sayings that are so passe. Instead, Douglas Adams succeeded in forever implanting his insight into my mind in a way no dry text could ever. So drop your textbooks and pass me a trashy novel.
Please feel free to share your own stories about some faux paxs based on the third person omniscient, "If our hero had only known..."
I recently listened to the book-on-tape, The Salmon Of Doubt, compiled from Douglas Adam's writings. One 2-page story, entitled "Cookies," made a great impression upon me. Go to your library and read in the real book page 150-1 for the full flavor. Should you proceed here further, you can save a quarter on inter-library loan because I do reveal the punch line. In brief, he was sitting at a table waiting for a train with his package of cookies, coffee and a newspaper. Opposite him was a businessman who proceeded to open the package of cookies and eat one of the cookies! Douglas said nothing but ate the next of his cookies and then the man ate the following. Douglas was upset but didn't know how to deal with this affront. His tension was building as was his righteous indignation. When the package was finished the man walked off. He then looked under his paper and found his own sealed package of cookies beneath his paper. He had been eating the other man's cookies all along while that man quietly suffered the infraction!Douglas had been so sure of his take on what was happening, considered rebuking the man, was horrified and yet resigned to refrain from confrontation. His reality during those moments seemed as clear to him as anything else he would bet his life on but one little itty bitty fact was missing and that changed the entire meaning and context of his exchange. Could there really exist another perspective?
My friend complained to me recently about the character of another friend's wife pointing to the fact that she never sent a thank you card to him for a wedding gift sent 10 years ago. First off, I was surprised he remembered who sent him thank you cards and that he could hold a grudge so long. Secondly, I told him Douglas' story and asked him to consider if his gift was lost in the mail, or her thank you card was lost as well. Perhaps, the husband had agreed to write it and failed to do so thus absolving the wife. I asked him to take a step back and consider there might be alternate realities than the one he felt so grounded in. It's a lesson that could be summed up in a book of facts as "Don't jump to conclusions or off cliffs for that matter" or "Things may not be as they seem on the surface unless you're actually on the surface" or "Don't judge a book by its cover unless its pornography" but in the absence a very telling context they are just neat sayings that are so passe. Instead, Douglas Adams succeeded in forever implanting his insight into my mind in a way no dry text could ever. So drop your textbooks and pass me a trashy novel.
Please feel free to share your own stories about some faux paxs based on the third person omniscient, "If our hero had only known..."
Labels: Auslander, cookies, Douglas Adams, grudges, halacha, perspective, school
posted by smoo @ 10:14 PM
5 comments
5 Comments:
That really is an illustrative tale- a real-world moshul, if you will, from the Maggid of Manchester, the late great Douglas Adams.
(What's really remarkable about this anecdote is that an Englishman would be drinking coffee, but unfortunately Adams isn't around any longer to comment on that.)
Oh, well. Don't panic, and keep your towel handy. So long, and thanks for all the fish.
It's Elul. Thanks for a memorable reminder to dan kaf l'zchut and mochel everyone.
It's interesting, because I used to work for an organization that used a video depicting almost the same story. In our version, the person eating the supposedly stolen cookies was a black man while the woman who thought her cookies were being eaten was white. For our organization, which dealt with race relations and community building, it was a lesson in those assumptions we make without thinking and why they are so prevalent. It was a very powerful lesson and led to great discussion. I didn't know Douglas Adams also had a version.
I have now read this story (with the details slightly different -- plane, train, bus; Israel, USA, England -- but it's always cookies) in at least three different books. Always with the author claiming it happened to them.
The moral: If someone else is eyeing your cookies, share them. Oh, and bring home-baked ones instead of buying commercially-produced.
Arthur Dent is telling this story to Fenchurch in "So Long and Thanks For All The Fish". Only he calls them "biscuits". I read that book when I was a teenager. For a few years I imagined a package of shabbos type crackers which they labeled Biscuits until I met some brits and discovered that "biscuits" means "cookies" in england.
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