A Teaching Tale
In Judaism there is no higher distinction than that of being a teacher. This has been so throughout our history. We do not celebrate kings and heroes, we celebrate teachers — Moses and Rabbi Akiba. The teacher is the central pillar of Jewish living, past, present, and future. According to Jewish tradition, God [themself] teaches.
~Abraham Joshua Heschel, Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity
Torah means “teaching,” from the root for aiming at a target (y.r.h) which also gives us Moreh or Morah for “teacher.”
In our Torah portion, the students rebel.
Korach, Datan, and Aviram and their supporters question why Moses and Aaron get to set curricular objectives. “Aren’t we all our own teachers, after all?” they say (to paraphrase, of course).
After the rebels are suspended (some of them literally, in a pit above the abyss), the Principal (God themself) wants to solidify the bruised authority of the appointed teachers. The leader of each tribe school clique brings a staff, and “the staff of the person whom I choose shall sprout, and I will rid Myself of the incessant mutterings of the Israelites against [Moses and Aaron]” (Bamidbar 17:20).
As it happens, Aaron’s staff sprouts and blossoms and even bears almonds! Overwhelming and incontrovertible proof that he and Moses are the right teachers to convey the key behavioral objectives of Judaism, the mitzvot.
Let me pause the Torah story for a moment for a relevant (I promise!) tangent.
When I was earning my Master’s in Jewish Education, we were exposed to two distinctly different ways of envisioning education.
The first method was called Backwards Design, and the idea was simply to know what you were aiming for before designing lessons and finding the right activities to move your learners closer to the target. Too often (this method claims) we just turn to familiar programs without really asking ourselves what greater purpose they serve. I find Backwards Design compelling because it cuts right to the core of purpose, and demands a level of intention and careful alignment of each element of learning to achieve that purpose. For any student asking “why?”, Backwards Design provides an answer. Kavana (itself from a root also related to archery, aim, and intentionality) incorporates elements of Backwards Design throughout our programming.
But… not everything is reducible to an objective. And when you hold too tightly to students reaching a particular objective, you run the risk of seeking control over creativity.
Enter educational method number two!
This second approach to education was called “emergent curriculum,” where rather than starting with the objectives you want learners to reach, you start with the interests of the learners. Or rather, you do your best to create rich environments that could spark the magic moment where a new curiosity is discovered, a passion finds an outlet, a skill can be developed - but all of it in response to learner initiative. The teacher’s role in this approach primarily entails stewarding the right environment, responding to students as they engage in whatever ways they do, and documenting what happens so that students can reflect and grow in meaningful ways. So much of what we do as the Kavana Cooperative draws on this sort of vision. Intentionality is present, but embedded in deeply relational, organic, and unexpected encounters among people and traditions.
Together, purpose (directed learning with a shared goal) and meaning (emergent and individual learning sometimes overlapping with that of others) are what make our community hum with aliveness.
In the ancient wilderness academy, community was not humming so well. After clarifying the authority of the teachers, God has Moses put the blossoming staff in the Ark, and Moses does; “just as God had commanded him, so he did” (Bamidbar 17:26). The teaching team is aligned, but unfortunately not very effective:
“But the Israelites said to Moses, “Lo, we perish! We are lost, all of us lost! Everyone who comes near, who comes near God’s Mishkan must die. Alas, we are doomed to perish!” (Bamidbar 17:27-28)
The Israelites have a shared purpose: “to be holy.” In a high-stakes case of Backwards Design, one rabbinic text tells us “that the Holy Blessed One established a condition with the act of Creation, and said to them: If Israel accepts the Torah you will exist; and if not, I will return you to chaos and disorder” (Talmud Bavli, Shabbat 88a). The whole point of creation, according to this story, is for Israel to accept Torah, do mitzvot, and become holy. Their learning will be assessed as pass / fail not only for them, but for all of existence itself.
It seems that the Israelites do want to fulfill their purpose, but are now afraid of their teachers and convinced they cannot accomplish it. As Adin Steinsaltz says, “the swallowing of Korach and his congregation by the ground, the burning of those who brought the incense, the plague that afflicted the people, and the earlier deaths of Nadav and Avihu, all combined with the repeated warnings against the approach of non-priests to the Sanctuary (1:51, 3:10, 38, 8:19) to produce a feeling of terror.” These are not ideal learning conditions!
The next chapter helps clarify how to safely navigate their life of purpose. But the deeper problem is that God, Moses, and Aaron have leaned too heavily on Torah as training rather than teaching, and seek compliance over true learning.
Luckily for us, the rabbinic tradition reimagines Torah not just as a training manual for sacred service, but as a rich environment where you can learn and grow all the days of your life, following as your soul is drawn to law or story, poetry or politics, heavenly speculation or earthly stewardship. Torah as an emergent curriculum is as vast and deep and weird as the ocean, with profound puzzles and meaningful marvels awaiting a student to notice and be awakened into the act of learning.
Shabbat shalom!
Rabbi Jay LeVine
