The Shibud Of Torah (שיעבודא דאורייתא)

 Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman Shlita

We find ourselves in the tashlumim days after Shavuos, as we reflect upon our aliyah from the Yom Tov and try to take it with us. It’s easy to be swept into the enthusiasm of Zman Mattan Toraseinu and, over the Yom Tov of Shavuos, renew our geshmak in Torah. But now we are tasked with finding ways to hold onto this enthusiasm. Most people are able to be יַעֲלֶה בְהַר ה', but the real test is: וּמִי יָקוּם בִּמְקוֹם קָדְשׁוֹ — who can actually maintain that aliyah and keep it going throughout the year?

The chassidishe sefarim teach that the main avodah of Shavuos is not during the Yom Tov itself, but rather after the Yom Tov, through שׁוּבוּ לָכֶם לְאָהֳלֵיכֶם, taking all the inspiration and commitments back home with us.

I would like to share a fundamental insight that can shed light on our entire approach to limud haTorah.

Parashas Nasso discusses the responsibility of the Levi’im to transport the Mishkan, and the Torah tells us that although most of the Mishkan was transported using wagons, the aron had to be carried on the shoulders of the children of Kehas, as the passuk says: בַּכָּתֵף יִשָּׂאוּ. The Gemara (Sotah 35a) tells us that Dovid Hamelech erred and transported the aron on a carriage, and the Gemara explains that this was a reaction to Dovid’s referring to Torah as zemiros, as he says, in Tehillim: זְמִרוֹת הָיוּ לִי חֻקֶּיךָ בְּבֵית מְגוּרָי. Dovid Hamelech was describing how, in his most vulnerable moments, when he was running away from his enemies, the Torah was like zemiros that provided comfort.

He was faulted for this, however, as the Gemara quotes the Eibishter as saying:

 דברי תורה שכתוב בהן התעיף עיניך בו ואיננו, אתה קורא אותן זמירות? הריני מכשילך בדבר שאפילו תינוקות של בית רבן יודעין אותו.

Clearly, there was something fundamentally wrong with Dovid referring to divrei Torah as zemiros, for as a result Hakadosh Baruch Hu made him err in the halachah of בַּכָּתֵף יִשָּׂאוּ, which even cheder boys know.

This Gemara is puzzling on several counts. First of all, what’s so bad about calling Torah zemiros? Isn’t it praiseworthy to highlight the Torah’s ability to bring comfort and solace to a person’s unsettled frame of mind? Furthermore, why did Hakadosh Baruch Hu respond by causing Dovid to forget the halachah of בַּכָּתֵף יִשָּׂאוּ? How is that middah kneged middah? And lastly, why does the Gemara emphasize that Dovid was made to forget something that even tinokos shel beis rabban know?

It is possible that Chazal are teaching us a very important lesson regarding our approach to limud haTorah. Often, when we observe great talmidei chachamim, we see their incredible ahavas haTorah, and how they view Torah as the most exciting occupation in the world. They could literally “lick” a Tosafos — that’s how intensely they enjoy the sweetness of Torah. Upon seeing this, we think to ourselves: That’s what it’s all about! It’s about cheshkas haTorah! And we understand that if we, too, would enjoy Torah so deeply and make it our most exciting pursuit, then automatically we will do nothing but learn all day and night. That, we assume, is the secret to our relationship with Torah: Just love it and everything else will follow.

The Ponovezher Rav famously pointed out that we find two very distinct references to Torah — one passuk says:  וְעַתָּה כִּתְבוּ לָכֶם אֶת הַשִּׁירָה הַזֹּאת, and another passuk says: תּוֹרָה צִוָּה לָנוּ מֹשֶׁה. The first passuk very much stresses the shirah aspect of Torah — the sweetness, the longing. And that is a vital element in our relationship with Torah — we need to feel desire to learn, we need to open a blatt Gemara because we are thirsty and we can’t wait to enjoy a geshmakeh Tosafos. We need to get intoxicated from R' Chaim Brisker’s two dinim and taste the depth of a Sfas Emes.

But we cannot forget that there’s another dynamic in our relationship with the Torah that’s just as vital, and that is the other passuk: תּוֹרָה צִוָּה לָנוּ מֹשֶׁה. This refers to the mandate to learn Torah, the shibud to Torah, the requirement to learn that does not hinge on our geshmak in Torah. We need to learn even when we are not in the mood. Even when the sugya seems too hard, or we have a hard time relating to it, or we’re distracted by a different shirah, we need to continue to learn because of the obligation: תּוֹרָה צִוָּה לָנוּ מֹשֶׁה.

This idea can be confusing, for when we see gedolei Yisrael’s overarching ahavas haTorah, we can easily conclude that this is the secret of how they reached their madreigah in Torah. And the storybooks often stress that aspect, which typically comes along with spectacular stories. But truth be told, it’s only half the story. The other half is no less pivotal, and that is the steadfast commitment to learn every possible moment, with consistency and devotion that are independent of one’s ahavas haTorah.

The Ponovezher Rav teaches us that Torah is far more than a mitzvah — it is a relationship, and as such it follows the pattern of every relationship, in the sense that it requires passion and commitment.

There’s no question that Torah is geshmak and can have a tremendous impact on a person, lifting his spirits and invigorating his mood — and that is what Dovid Hamelech expressed when he said: זְמִרוֹת הָיוּ לִי חֻקֶּיךָ בְּבֵית מְגוּרָי. Dovid was describing this aspect of Torah that provided that pick-me-up feeling in his most trying and vulnerable moments. Evidently, however, Hakadosh Baruch Hu felt that Dovid Hamelech’s description intimated that Torah is nothing more than an alcoholic’s bottle, as though we learn Torah solely for the pleasure and comfort that it provides.

Although this is indeed an element of Torah, it is a grave error to limit Torah to that alone and forget the fundamental aspect of our shibud to the Torah. Torah is so much more than a geshmakeh pastime that provides intellectual stimulation; Torah requires tremendous commitment and total subordination, both in our willingness to devote every free moment to it and in our making every effort to understand its wisdom.

Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s rebuke to Dovid Hamelech was: Have you reduced Torah to a geshmakeh song? Torah is the pinnacle of chochmos, and a person needs to muster every ounce of mental effort to both understand the Torah and maintain the relentless consistency that limud haTorah requires.

Middah kneged middah, Hakadosh Baruch Hu made Dovid Hamelech err in this very aspect of Torah, by allowing the aron to be transported in a wagon as opposed to on people’s shoulders. The message was that the aron, which represents Torah, is not just a geshmakeh thing that we take along with us; it’s something that we need to carry on our shoulders. We need to undertake the responsibility of Torah and carry its weight on our shoulders.

We can now understand why Dovid was made to err in something that even tinokos shel beis rabban know. The point was not to shame Dovid by showing that he was missing something that was obvious even to little children, but rather to drive home the essence of what he was missing. After years of learning Torah, a person can become very attached to Torah, experiencing such excitement and geshmak in Torah that he can lose sight of the other, fundamental aspect of Torah. Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s message to Dovid Hamelech was: Yes, you have reached an unusual madreigah of geshmak in learning, and you relate to Torah as your favorite pursuit that keeps you afloat — but your shibud and achrayus to Torah is lacking. You’re missing the aspect that even a cheder yingel understands, for while the cheder yingel has not yet reached true ahavah and cheshkas haTorah, he does understand the shibud aspect of Torah: that he needs to go to school, that he needs to sit in class and learn until the bell rings even if he has no cheshek.

That was Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s message to Dovid: Yes, you love Torah, and it’s your song, it’s the lyrics that carry you through your life. But what about your chashivus for the shibud of Torah, which is symbolized by the aron needing to be carried as a perpetual load on your shoulders? This is a concept that even a child relates to, and that is why Dovid was made to err in this halachah specifically.

There’s a critical lesson here that can greatly alter our approach to limud haTorah. On some days, ahavas haTorah will motivate us to learn; in fact, our sheer longing for Torah might propel us to learn even when other responsibilities, such as parnassah or tzorchei tzibbur, might exempt us. But we can never rely on that motivation alone and reduce Torah to a geshmakeh activity that we engage in when we can enjoy it. Rather, like every other relationship, Torah needs to come with loyalty, faithfulness, and dedication even when we don’t specifically feel the geshmak, and even with it is competing with other distractions.

As we try to take our Shavuos hisorerus with us, we must remember that there are two distinct aspects to our limud haTorah, both of which are equally crucial to forging a healthy and complete relationship with the Torah, which will, in turn, create a real dveikus in the Torah’s Giver.