You
enjoyed preschool, you persevered through elementary school, you survived high
school, and you even pulled yourself through college. Finally, you were done
with study, and the time had come for you to enter the "real world" (wherever
that is…).
When
you walked out of the school building for the last time, and entered cloud nine
where there are no classes, no strict teachers and no "How will algebra help me
in my life?", you might have made a silent commitment to free yourself from the
bondage of study for all eternity.
A
recent study corroborates that this is what many of us do. It turns out that 1
in 4 Americans don't finish reading even one book in the course of a year!
We're not only talking about scientific and religious tomes, but even novels
and fun non-fiction books are sitting lonely in the storehouses of bankrupt
publishers.
We studied, we learned, we inquired, and we grew—all with the
power of the BookTell
me, isn't this a tragedy?
Jews
have been called for centuries the People of the Book, and this was meant to be
a compliment… We studied, we learned, we inquired, and we grew—all with the
power of the Book.
Yes,
of course there are many important things that need doing… Family obligations,
working, and maintaining social ties all take up a lot of time. We try to be
engaged, contributing members of our communities, and make the world a better
place. But are we doing everything we need to do?
This
week's Torah reading is titled Ki Tavo, "When you will settle." The message
here is that there are times when we must settle, when we must come home, when we
must forget about the world – the "real world" – and care about our own inner
world.1
It
is not selfish to learn. It is a need. Just like one needs to eat, sleep,
exercise (oy!), and spend time with family, so too there is a need to learn, to open our
minds to new ideas, explore new horizons.
And,
of course, when we say study, we primarily mean Torah study. Either in the good
old-fashioned book form, or through the web, which is a treasure chest waiting
to cater to your every Torah-academic whim.
Yes,
I know you swore that you would never step foot into a class again, so with the
power of the rabbinate bestowed upon me, I hereby annul your vow.
That
said, get back into class.