Beyond words, to each their own language

Every student is different.”

There was a time when the literary treasures of the Jewish people were accessible only to those with a reading knowledge of Hebrew. This is no longer the case.

I must confess that when this phenomenon of translation began, I was not all that happy. I am a bit of a purist and have long clung to the belief that sacred Hebrew books should be read in the original. I was willing to make exceptions for those religious classics which were originally written in languages other than Hebrew, such as those works of Maimonides, Saadia Gaon, and Bahya ibn Paquda, which were originally written in Arabic and translated into Hebrew and eventually English as well. But for me, the Bible and classical commentaries were to be read only in the language in which they were written.

I was guided in my opposition to translation by the classic Italian motto, “traduttore traditore (the translator is a traitor).” No translation is exactly accurate, and ideas expressed in one inevitably lose some of their meaning when rendered into another.

Ironically, in recent years, I myself have become a translator. My first professional effort was with the elegies that are recited on Tisha b’Av. Translating these poignantly tragic poems was a difficult challenge, but I undertook the task in the belief that I was doing a public service by bringing these poems to the public, albeit in a far from perfect form.

Since then, I have been involved in the process of translating classical Jewish works, and have come to terms with the fact that translations, although far from perfect, bring Torah study to multitudes of individuals who would otherwise be deprived from so much of our tradition.

These reflections bring us to this week’s Torah portion, Ki Tavo (Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8). The relevant verses read, “As soon as you have crossed the Jordan into the land that the Lord your G-d is giving you, you shall set up large stones. Coat them with plaster and inscribe upon them all the words of this Teaching. … On those stones you shall inscribe every word of this Teaching most distinctly” (Deuteronomy 27:2-3, and 8).

What does this phrase, ba’er heitev, translated as “most distinctly,” mean?

The Babylonian Talmud Tractate Sotah 32b suggests that the inscription of that the “teaching” of Torah should be done in all 70 of the languages known to mankind. Moses himself, speaking on behalf of the Almighty, instructs the people to engage in that “traitorous” task of translation, unconcerned with the difficulties of rendering the word of G-d from sacred Hebrew into the languages of all mankind.

The Jerusalem Talmud takes a universalistic approach and suggests that these translations were to bring the teachings of the Torah to the entire world.

The Zohar, basic text of the Kabbalah, notes that members of the Sanhedrin knew all 70 languages. But the Zohar does not take this literally. Instead, it understands the 70 languages to be a metaphor for the 70 facets of Torah, the 70 different avenues of interpretation with which the sacred text is endowed. The members of the Sanhedrin were thus not linguists, according to the Zohar, but experts in probing the depths of the Torah’s meaning. Perhaps, the 70 languages inscribed on the stones in the River Jordan were also not the languages for the peoples of the world, but were 70 codes enabling so many different approaches to the Torah’s interpretation.

I prefer to understand the word “language” more broadly, not restricting it to a literal meaning that refers to French, Spanish, Swahili, and Portuguese. Rather, “language” can refer to a cognitive modality, or to a learning style. Thus, some of us prefer the language of humor, while others prefer the language of logic and reason. We speak of angry language, soothing language, and the language of love. Music is a language, play is a language, and there is even the language of war.

Every teacher knows he must use different “languages” for different students. Some students will respond to clear and logical explanations. Others will require anecdotes and stories. Still others will require humor, or perhaps visual illustrations.

Perhaps this is what the Talmud in Tractate Sotah is really teaching. Inscribed on those stones in the River Jordan were 70 pedagogical tools to allow every recipient of the Torah to learn its messages in his or her own idiosyncratic way.

Some would learn best by reciting the words by rote until they were memorized. Others would learn by breaking the text down into small phrases and reflecting on them, and still others would learn by using visual imagery to “see” the meaning of the text.

Indeed, the phrase “70 facets of Torah” could be the Zohar’s way of referring to 70 different learning styles, encouraging teachers to identify a “stone in the River Jordan” to match every pupil, even those who on the surface appear unteachable.

If I am at all correct in this interpretation of “the 70 languages,” I am asserting that our Sages were very aware of a basic lesson in education. That lesson is that there is a need for individualized curricula so that diverse populations can all learn well.

This lesson is reflected throughout Talmudic literature. Here is one example: “Observe the excellent advice given to us by the Tanna Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perachya, ‘Make for yourself a teacher, and acquire for yourself a friend’ If you do this you will find that your teacher will teach you mikrah, mishnah, midrash, halachot, ve’aggadot. Whatever is not conveyed in mikrah (Scripture) will be conveyed in mishnah; whatever is not conveyed in midrash will be conveyed in the halachot; whatever is not conveyed in the halachot will become clear in the study of the aggadot. Thus, the student will sit in place and fill himself with all that is good and blessed.” (Avot DeRabbi Nathan, 8:1)

In this passage our Sages are advocating a richly variegated curriculum.

There are many erudite quotations that I could cite to summarize the point of my essay. But I prefer to conclude with a remark I hear from my teenage grandchildren: Different strokes for different folks. Arguably, this is an apt motto for getting along with people in all situations. But it is especially apt for teachers. And as I have repeatedly stated in this column, we are all teachers!