​BEING OF TWO MINDS

The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see things that are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise. ​

Wisdom Wherever You Find It
 
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see things that are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.         F. Scott Fitzgerald
 
My education as a rabbi was an indoctrination into the value of uncertainty. Sure, there were some things I was expected to affirm without much more than a smidgen of doubt, but once you get past the basics, the foundation of everything rabbinic is machloket. In English, the word is often translated as “dispute,” and it describes the typical form of interaction between two scholars who may be sitting face to face or may be separated by generations. The traditional Jewish way of learning is by arguing. It explains a lot.
 
We live in a time when disagreement has become a value rather than a methodology. And here is where my rabbinic education has helped me the most. When a machloket takes place, both parties are expected to be able to articulate and honor each other’s position. So closely is this kind of disagreement modeled that the contemporaneous rabbis who sat and argued (and raised their disciples to do so in their names) were called “couples,” and they were often dearest of friends. The most famous were Hillel and Shammai, but the most remarkable were Rabbi Johanan and Rabbi Simeon son of Lakish – mutual admirers and brothers-in-law.
 
Many centuries after the Talmudic couples and deep into my career as a rabbi, I sat in a room with dozens of my colleagues to listen to Tal Brody, a stellar Israeli teacher. He recognized the challenges of arguing simultaneously for interests and principles. “You have to hold two opposing ideas in your head at the same time,” he said. “Who better to do that than rabbis?”
 
Well, nobody, I think. I don’t say that with ego or chauvinism as the determining factor. I say it because the presumptions of a lot of other cultures (especially in America) do not include the value of the dissenting opinion.
 
Before I go any farther, I acknowledge that these days, even rabbis don’t always endorse principled disagreement. When that happens, they betray our heritage, I believe. You have to make a decision when a decision is called for, true. But even if all of us light Chanukkah candles in increasing numbers all eight nights (as Hillel instructed) it is common knowledge that some believed (as Shammai instructed) that we light them in decreasing numbers.
 
There is a value in certainty. But certainty is elusive. As a result, the insistence on public certainty is (I think) a reflection of the pervasiveness of private uncertainty. Whether it is the affirmation of a particular kind of religious faith, or unwavering fidelity to a political party, or the insistence on an immutable solution to a question of policy or behavior, people who insist on the universal validation of “my way” are simply terrified of even the possibility of “the highway” leading to a better answer.
 
F. Scott Fitzgerald (just “F,” as I like to call him) uses a great example, hard to contradict. Each of us has, at some time, recognized things are hopeless – climate change, a league championship, programming a new phone – yet we commit to an approach we don’t necessarily believe will succeed. F might not have had machloket in mind, but the same principle applies. Democrats ought to consider what Republicans have to say. Conservatives ought to give thought to liberal ideas. Jews and Christians, Muslims and Hindus, Western and Eastern thinkers, Red Sox and Yankees fans can each reject thoroughly the beliefs and practices of the other yet recognize their value.
 
It is instructive to consider the reason that Jewish practice almost always follows the teachings of Hillel and infrequently those of his debate opponent, Shammai. Each of them taught both points of view whenever they instructed their students. But whereas Shammai taught his conclusions and followed them with Hillel’s dissent, Hillel always taught Shammai’s first. That modeling of respect is the difference between knowledge and wisdom – there are lessons that are teachable by example, not only by words. Doing so is an indicator of a first-rate intelligence.