Earlier this week, while teaching my seventh-grade Talmud shiur the topic of Birchot HaTorah, I quoted Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt"l. Spontaneously, I found myself sharing the teaching in the Rav's voice, making a rather poor attempt to imitate his European accent and slightly high-pitched tone. The students asked whether I had known Rav Soloveitchik personally, and when I told them that I had never met him, they wondered how I knew what his voice sounded like. I explained that there are many recordings of the Rav, and within minutes we searched online and I projected onto the smartboard his famous address describing the "symposium of generations" of Talmud Torah, saying how when we learn, the greatest sages of modern, medieval, and even ancient times join our discussion, and it is as if we are all learning together in one beit midrash.
It is a recording that gives me chills. I was unsure whether twelve- and thirteen-year-old students would appreciate it, but they did. We paused the recording several times to discuss Rav Soloveitchik's words, and I could see that it made a real impression on them. The students could feel the living vitality of the mesorah and their own place within it. It was as if Rav Solovetichik was standing in the classroom, and behind him stood the Vilna Gaon and Rebbi Akiva Eiger, Rashi and Rambam, Rebbi Akiva and Rebbi Yehuda Hanasi. It was deeply moving for me.
Toward the end of this week's parsha, the Torah commands the Jewish people to remember the Exodus and to teach its story and lessons to each successive generation: "And you shall tell your child on that day, saying: It is because of this that Hashem acted on my behalf when I left Egypt" (Shemot 13:8). Many commentators note that this single verse contains several guiding principles of successful education. It does not present cold facts, but rather a personal narrative ("Hashem acted on my behalf"). It conveys its message not only through words but also, as our sages explain, through the tangible symbols of Pesach, matzah, and maror ("because of this"). Lastly, it is not just about the past, as the Torah immediately follows with mitzvot through which we continue to live out the lessons and values of the story.
These educational tips are not only relevant to teachers in classrooms or parents at the Shabbat table. The Midrash (Mechilta d'Rabbi Yishmael) comments: "I would know only that one who has a child must tell the story. From where do I know that even one who has no child must tell the story to himself? Therefore, the verse emphasizes 'you shall tell' in every case, even if there is no child." We want the Torah to be alive, meaningful, and inspiring for our children, and that requires thoughtful planning, instruction, and modeling. But there is also a mitzvah to "tell the story" to ourselves to ensure that we, too, maintain a deep, inspiring, and ever-growing connection to the Torah.
When I shared the Rav's video with my students, I was trying to strengthen their connection to the mesorah and awaken something inside of them. Yet unintentionally, it also reignited something within me. It reminded me that I am a teacher, but will also always be a student. Passion for Torah is not meant only for children. Adults, too, should live Torah lives filled with emotional depth and palpable joy. May we all find the teachings, experiences, role models, or videos that help us feel the life force of the generations of mesorah and know that Hashem is also speaking to each of us, personally, today.