A maggid shiur for the Daf Yomi, who teaches a
broad audience most of which is comprised of men much older
than he, is in a strange position. He is alone and finds it
difficult to relate to them. As a teacher? He is more than
that and the people before him are not like students in the
literal sense of the word. And thus, a certain tenseness
reigns between them.
Let us listen in on a meeting of maggidei shiur: there
is a common denominator uniting them all; they understand one
another very well and there reigns an atmosphere of openness
and common purpose between them, even though the separate
shiurim have disparate natures, being delivered to
very different kinds of audiences. All of these lecturers are
able to discuss the problems they encounter in the course of
their shiur and often, they feel a sense of relief in
the very fact that they are not alone in their problems.
Together, they are often able to come up with workable
solutions.
"I love to teach and my audience loves to learn. And yet, the
shiur suffers from disturbances. I have one particular
member, an energetic, practical person, who continually
interrupts me with the complaint that the discussion in the
gemora is not pragmatic! Where, he asks, does such a
theoretical situation come up in real life? I've explained to
him at length that what preoccupies the Sages is the analysis
of the halachic factors of that particular subject, which
they exemplify and emphasize through an instance which could
have theoretically happened or not happened, but that is
beside the point. It is the principle governing the
circumstances that is under discussion, that is, the lesson
to be derived from the projection of such a possibility. I've
explained this idea to him numerous times, and each time he
nods his head in consent. Nevertheless, at the first
opportunity, produces the selfsame objection all over
again!
"The general intellectual level is much better, however, and
the others who attend would not dream of asking such
elementary questions. Still in all, the lesson does not flow
smoothly, and this is due, strangely enough, to a completely
opposite cause. There is a certain Jew who comes to the
shiur, a distinguished scholar who must have learned a
great deal in the past and is also blessed with a fine
memory; he happens to have a penchant for showing off his
knowledge at every opportunity. From time to time he comments
that in tractate so-and-so the same data appears with a
slight variation, and while the difference can be resolved
according to the second answer in Tosafos, "it is
contrived." However, he will note, R' Akiva Eiger has an
interesting manner of dealing with it . . . and so on.
Meanwhile, the rest of the participants begin shifting
uneasily in their seats as a result of the break in the flow,
and I simply don't know how to handle this. I've tried to
interrupt him pleasantly with a plea to discuss this at the
end of the shiur, but it only diverts him for a few
moments and soon, he's back at it again. I certainly don't
want to be rude to him or embarrass him and I don't know what
to do."
"I'm almost jealous of you. Your interruptions revolve around
the subject being discussed. By me, there is a participant
who is active and alert. He frequently asks irrelevant and
stupid klotz questions that raise smiles by some of
the listeners and irritated remarks by the rest who wish to
get on with the material. He even voices his questions with
the confidence and aplomb of a learned scholar and at first,
one does not discern the devious logic behind them.
"He may begin, for example, with a statement like, `We all
know the rule of "todir veshe'eino todir . . . ", that
a mitzva done frequently supersedes one that is rarer. So how
does that jibe with this, here?' he will ask, and go on to
compare the blessing of shehakol to meis
mitzva. He mixes his apples with his oranges, things that
have nothing in common.
"At first, I used to invest much time and effort in
explaining to him the fallacy in his train of thought, but I
quickly discovered that a few minutes will never suffice to
straighten out the lopsided logic of a man of sixty and fill
in the gaps left by the teachers of his teen years."
"My dear colleagues: I am prepared at this very moment to
change places with you. I am ready to take on the problems
you face and to rid myself, very gladly, of my burden. I have
a very learned student who really knows a lot. His major
fault is that he was a teacher for many years and is now
retired. He is a self- appointed simultaneous translator,
that is, he concludes aloud the second half of any sentence I
begin. He does so on a volunteer basis, even though I am the
official transmitter of this shiur. My audience gets
headaches from the merry-go-round of lecturers in mid-
sentence. If this man were old and weak and whispered his
running commentary half to himself, it would be only half a
problem. But he's got the voice of a chazon, resonant
and reverberating and, as you are aware, two voices cannot be
heard simultaneously! My audience cannot hear both of us at
once. One time, I simply couldn't contain myself, and I
offered to let him teach the shiur in my stead. He
looked affronted and was silent for a few moments, but he
rallied very quickly and resumed his role of second
violin."
"I'm a veteran at delivering a gemora shiur to a mixed
audience of various levels of learning, and over the years,
have encountered all kinds of people and their respective
modes of disturbance. And you haven't touched upon the
disconcerting effect of shiur dropouts who simply
cannot take the strain of one problem or another and never
come back. This is the worst of all. The self-importance of
one attendee, for example, can cause many members of the
group to quit learning altogether. That is a terrible thing!
Were the facts presented to some godol, I am certain
that he would advise that the person be requested to stay
home rather than be instrumental in having others drop out.
`Your absence will do more for promoting Torah study than
your presence!'"
"It is interesting to note that the person who causes the
disturbance is totally unaware of the effect he has on the
others. When the other members voice their complaints about
the type of disturbance he causes, he does not dream that
they are referring to him! And if anyone so much as suggests
point blank that he is interrupting the flow of the lesson,
he will seethe with anger. The one who dared suggest the
rebuke becomes in his eyes a public enemy number one, a hater
of Torah, a slanderer, one who embarrasses another before his
fellow man, one who has forfeited his place in the World to
Come, and whom it is a mitzva to despise and persecute to the
bitter end in this world. See how blind some people can be to
their own faults!"
"Those are the wiles of the yetzer hora. Satan is
forever scheming to undermine Torah study, to sabotage any
group of Jews who come to learn with zest, instead of
relaxing at home or going about their affairs. So what does
he do? He enlists some arrogant, stuffed-shirt-scholar or
some pouter-pigeon full of self importance with not too much
brains, and these turn the general session into a private
stage. They dominate the scene with their questions and force
the lecturer to listen to all of their comments. Then, one by
one, the serious students who have no interest in being the
sounding board for the display of knowledge or dis- knowledge
of their fellow attendee, begin dropping out."
"Friends and colleagues, I have heard the descriptions of the
various categories of disturbers, but I mainly paid attention
to the reactions of those particular maggidei shiur
who suffer from them. One states: `I don't have the heart to
tell him off; he is my own father's age.' Another says: `But
he is a talmid chochom, after all!' The third lifts up
his hands in despair and says: `It won't make a difference,
anyway. It's an exercise in futility.'
"Let me tell you what one of the participants in my
shiur said to me in a private conversation. `Honored
Rov. You are responsible that this shiur be conducted
in line with its main purpose, which is to enable all of the
other participants to gain as much as can be normally
expected. You are the emissary of us all to see that this
goal be carried out. And if someone prevents you from
succeeding to fulfill your mission, you are not permitted to
hide behind any personal sense of unpleasantness or
discomfort that you may have. You are held responsible if any
Jew stops attending the shiur because of some
disturbance or other. At worst, if numerous attempts fail to
remedy the situation, you are duty-bound to distance that
disturber from the shiur with uncompromising
forcefulness!"
