A couple of damp and drizzly mornings ago I was returning from my daily morning prayers in Jerusalem’s Yeshurun Synagogue when I spotted a strikingly clear rainbow. In accordance with Jewish law I recited the blessing of זוכר הברית, ונאמן בבריתו, וקיים במאמרו (“…who remembers the covenant, is trustworthy in His covenant and keeps His word”). I was pleased to do so since rainy days, and therefore the opportunity to recite this formula, are not as frequent in Israel as in my native England. As I reached my apartment building a young man emerged. I excitedly told him of the rainbow and reminded him of the opportunity to say the blessing. Thanking me, he casually asked: “Where is it?”
Over the years I’ve seen many rainbows. Some have been faint and pale, others outstanding in their refracted glory. While they possessed differentiating qualities, they shared one common characteristic: they were all to be found in the same place: the sky. All my young friend had to do was to look up and, if he did not espy that rainbow instantly, swivel around a little till it came into his line of vision. If I had been told that there was a rainbow on display, it would not have occurred to me that it might be anywhere else, and I would certainly never have asked anyone else where it was.
This little
episode troubled me. The question, for sure, was unnecessary. But was I being
unduly harsh? My inquisitor might have been anxious to discover the precise
location of the rainbow in order to save valuable seconds that might then be
put to more productive use. Alternatively, his question might have been
conditioned by the frustrating experience of trying to find a new moon amidst
the dense foliage of Rechavia, an area graced with stately trees which by day
provide magnificent shade. And do we not encourage our youngsters to ask
questions? How else will they learn?
Pirkei Avot has
something to say, of course. In general terms, silence is preferred to speech
(Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel at Avot 1:17, Rabbi Akiva at Avot 3:17). From this one
might infer that if one can resolve a question without speaking to anyone else,
this would be good. The tractate goes further. At Avot 5:9 we learn that asking
questions that are to the point and answering them correctly are signs of a
person who is cultured and educated in the ways of the Torah, and at 6:6 we
find asking and answering, devoid of any conditions or qualifications, in the
list of 48 qualities a person needs for the acquisition of Torah.
Avot is only a
starting point. In the Babylonian Talmud (Shabbat 31a) we find Hillel warmly
welcoming a series of questions which, we learn, are deliberately calculated to
anger him so that the person asking them can win a bet. I think that, in
general terms, this is probably the best policy for me to adopt in
future—though I shall continue to grit my teeth when two of my grand-daughters
who refuse to wear watches will persist in asking me what the time is, even
when we are sitting together in a room containing no fewer than three clocks.