One of the differences one notices in teaching adults, as opposed to children, is that the former are generally less inclined to respond to questions posed by the teacher, afraid to say something that may indicate their ignorance of the subject material. Children, on the other hand, are typically eager to say what they think, oblivious to any perceived ignorance. They are, after all, children and can’t be expected to know the material, with ignorance being par for the course.
Being afraid to speak up for fear of exposing one’s lack of knowledge is most understandable, yet ultimately, something that perpetuates ignorance. “Hillel says…the one [afraid of] embarrassment cannot learn” (Avot 2:5). To advance in any field, one must begin by knowing what one doesn’t know; and those who are too embarrassed to expose their ignorance greatly limit what they can learn. This is easier said than done, and good teachers are most sensitive to this fear, doing their best to ensure that all feel comfortable to speak and that all questions, no matter how ridiculous they might actually be, are answered respectfully. The truly talented teacher can often tweak a weak question or comment and turn it into a sharp question or insight, giving great confidence to the student.
It is not only fear of embarrassment that limits learning. Fear of any kind – except that of heaven[1] – is greatly limiting. That is why, in court deliberations, it is generally the least-learned judge who must express his opinion first (see Sanhedrin 32a). We want to avoid a situation where one’s true thoughts are stifled, lest they contradict one who is greater; we want all opinions to be freely shared. The Torah itself, in delineating the requirements of a judge, warns, “Do not fear any man, for the judgment is to G-d” (Devarim 1:17).
This mindset is further reflected in the introduction to the Iggrot Moshe, the great collection of responsa of Rav Moshe Feinstein in which he explains that he will state his view and rule accordingly—even if such differs from earlier authorities, whom Rav Moshe readily admits were greater than he. That matters little, as once one is entitled to express a view on new areas of Jewish law, one must express that opinion fearlessly[2].
Yet at times, great rabbis will immediately reject their own prior understanding – and even be embarrassed that they could say something so “wrong”—upon hearing the view of a dissenting rabbi. Such was the case regarding Rava and Rav Ilish.
The Gemara (Bava Batra 133b) records a case of one who gifted his property to his friend, adding a stipulation that afterwards – presumably, after the friend’s death – the gift should go to a third party. When the friend died, the third party put in a claim for the property. Rav Ilish, in the presence of Rava, ruled that the third party also had a valid claim and thus, would be entitled to part of the gift, with the children of the deceased receiving the other part. The gift was to be shared Rav Ilish ruled, because the friend who first received the gift was also a relative who was heir to the one gifting the property.
Uncertain if the original gift was in actuality given as an inheritance and thus passed to the children immediately upon death, or was a conditional gift that would go to the third party, Rav Ilish ruled that they must divide it. Interestingly, the Talmud does not say in what proportion the division was to be made. Perhaps Rav Ilish had no time to determine that as Rava, without hesitation, commented, “that is the judgment of the compromisers.” One cannot make a compromise[3] ruling to split the money because one is uncertain what type of a gift it is. Decide whether it’s a gift or inheritance and rule accordingly! That is exactly what Rava did; he declared that it was given as an inheritance and thus, 100% must go to the heirs of the first friend.
Rav Ilish was embarrassed by his mistake and worried that Rava would think that undoubtedly, many of his rulings had been in error. Rava, rather cryptically, responds to this by quoting the verse, “I am the Lord, in its time I will hasten it” (Yishayahu 60:22). As the Rashbam explains, Rava was comforting Rav Ilish, exhorting him not to fret as G-d did, in fact, send “salvation” just in the nick of time to ensure any error would be corrected before it could be implemented[4]. This is in concert with the view that G-d does allow mistakes by the righteous[5], extending this principle even to their animals (Gittin 7a) [6].
On the other hand, Rava’s quoting of the verse can be seen as a veiled critique of Rav Ilish. There is a time for everything, Rava cautioned, and you are still a young scholar who has not attained the years of maturity needed to decide complicated questions of Jewish law. All the more so when I, Rava—your senior colleague—was standing next to you when the question arose. Only G-d can hasten salvation, but we humans must wait our turn.
Of course, these two interpretations can be blended into one; Rava did critique Rav Ilish, but in a most constructive way. Your heart is in the right place, he told him, and no errors actually happened because of your impudence. But please do recognize your place. You will be a leader of the Jewish people one day, but that day has not yet come.
[1] Fear of heaven actually frees one from fear of man, greatly expanding one’s horizons. See Al Hateshuva of Rav Soloveitchik, in which he expands on this notion.
[2] Rav Moshe (Igrot Moshe Yoreh Deah 3:88) has a fascinating teshuva in which he was asked by a budding scholar if it would be appropriate to move to Bnei Brak, the home of the Hazon Ish – the recognized final word for many – as he had views that differed from the Hazon Ish. Rav Moshe urged him to move there, explaining that expressing disagreement is not a display of lack of respect. Au contraire, the greatest honour we give Torah Sages is to study their works. "It would never enter the mind of the Hazon Ish zt"l that there would not be a Torah scholar who would argue with him and it's impossible to imagine he would be upset by such" Rav Moshe notes. Such is the beauty of a living, dynamic tradition where it is precisely because opinions are robust that the truth can emerge.
[3] While the Talmud extols psharah, compromise in judgment (see Sanhedrin 6b), such is generally not the result of uncertainty. Rather, it is to be implemented because the law, by its very nature, generally grants 100% even if one is only 51% correct. Hence, we recommend a more “peaceful” distribution.
[4] This verse is classically understood by our Sages to refer to the coming of the Messiah, who will come in “in its time”. However, if we are meritorious, G-d will “hasten it” and the Mashiach will arrive early. Perhaps the secret to bringing the Mashiach is that Torah scholars must readily admit their errors and feel terrible about them, displaying sensitivity to one another and helping to mentor one another.
[5] How this reconciles with the rather obvious observation—one subject of a discussion in the Torah and the central theme of the Talmudic tractate Horayot—that rabbis do make mistakes, is beyond the scope of this devar Torah.
[6] Fascinatingly, we have a mirror image of this story (Gittin 77b) in which it was Rav Ilish who corrected Rava on the latter’s ruling; and just as Rav Ilish was embarrassed above, in this case, it was Rava who felt embarrassed. However, Rav Ilish offered no words of comfort there. There was no need to do so, as Rava soon presented a legal defence of his position.
