During my lengthy career I have been privileged to become
friends with some very special and interesting people. One of those individuals
is Professor Gerald Schroeder. Dr. Schroeder holds graduate degrees in nuclear
(and astro) physics from MIT, where he served as a faculty member prior to his
appointment to the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission. Dr. Schroeder became a baal teshuva during his tenure at MIT.
While in Boston, he studied with the Bostoner Rebbe, Rav Levi Horowitz, zt”l. Later, in Israel, he learned with
two roshei yeshiva: with Rav Noach
Weinberg, zt”l, with whom he had a
regular chavrusa for many years, and
with Rav Chaim Brovender, may he be
blessed. Dr. Schroeder and his wife Barbara, who is a journalist and author,
made aliyah with their children in
the seventies. Upon arrival in Jerusalem, Dr. Schroeder was appointed to the
faculty of the Weizmann Institute and Yeshiva Aish HaTorah, while Barbara
became a columnist for the Jerusalem Post.
During the course of Dr. Schroeder’s
career, he has written numerous books and articles harmonizing the scientific
opinion of the age of the universe with the Torah’s view of creation. Among his
brilliant books are Genesis and the Big
Bang and The Science of G-d. If
you haven’t read Genesis and the Big Bang,
I highly recommend that you do. And while you’re reading, don’t think you are
the only person who might need to reread a page several times. But trust me,
it’s worth it! By the way, you may have heard people use the put-down line,
“Hey, you’re no rocket scientist!” Well, you can’t use that line with Gerald
Schroeder.
* * *
On several occasions, Professor
Schroeder was a scholar-in-residence for our congregation in Cape Town. His
captivating lectures drew many hundreds of people, including non-Jews. In fact,
Dr. Schroeder is often hosted by Christian groups seeking “biblical truth.” I
treasured my personal time spent with him discussing Torah and scientific
topics. From our first meeting, I was taken by his brilliance and humility, as
well as his love of G-d’s wonders and creations. I recall his excitement in
reciting a bracha upon seeing the
Indian Ocean for the first time from atop Table Mountain.
Publicity for Professor Schroeder’s
first-ever Cape Town lecture was designed to attract not only Jews interested
in learning about the cosmos but also Jews interested in challenging the Torah
from a “scientific” perspective. Our advertising targeted students and teachers
from various schools of engineering and science, including those from the
University of Cape Town. Over 600 people turned out.
One of the attendees was a lovely
elderly widow named Lilly. Lilly came to every event, class, and lecture at our
shul. She was a classic Yiddishe Mama. Lilly would always arrive early in order
to get a front row seat. The (provocative) title of the lecture was “The Age of
the Universe.” Professor Schroeder had several whiteboards next to the podium,
on which he would from time to time write an equation that he referenced during
his lecture. In his inimitable fashion the Professor opened by explaining E=MC2
and the principles of relativity as set forth by Einstein. About 45 minutes
into the lecture, the whiteboard was filled with equations, the Professor
paused and said, “Is everyone with me?” I scanned the audience and looked at
Lilly’s face. Her look indicated befuddled confusion. But Lilly understood
something that I too had learned years earlier: Silence is sometimes an
excellent substitute for brilliance. She did not raise her hand.
There was a young man in the back of
the room, though, who wanted to demonstrate his brilliance – not by asking a
good question but by making a definitive statement. He asserted with much
self-confidence, “Professor Schroeder I am a graduate student studying physics
at the University of Cape Town.” Pointing to the whiteboard, he continued, “Your
fifth equation doesn’t make sense!”
As the audience gasped I thought to
myself, I have no clue what that equation means, but I know one thing: You, my
dear grad student, are going to quickly regret making that “authoritative”
statement. Pointing to the whiteboard, the Professor casually replied, “As a
graduate student of physics I’m surprised that you didn't recognize this as the
equation for quark confinement.” I could see hundreds of people silently and
slowly mouthing the words “quark confinement.” The look on the young man’s face
now expressed a desire to speedily retire to a broom closet. At the end of the
lecture, there were some good questions and some superb answers that were asked
and answered with humility and wisdom.
As people were leaving (still
reciting the words “quark confinement”), I walked over and asked Lilly what she
thought of the lecture. She said, “Rabbi, truthfully I didn’t understand one
word that man said, but I’ll tell you this: If someone that smart decided to
become frum, that’s really
impressive!”
I said “Lilly, you completely
understood the purpose of the lecture!”
* * *
Some people have knowledge, and some
have wisdom. The most fortunate among us have both. Knowledge supplies us with
facts and an understanding of subject matter; wisdom gives us the ability to
make proper, appropriate, and correct decisions. Wisdom is gained through life
experiences and through observing and learning from the actions of good
teachers and role models. Knowledge is knowing how to speak; wisdom is knowing
when to speak. When the rabbis discuss the brilliant Shlomo Hamelech (King
Solomon), they are referring to his wisdom above his vast knowledge. In the
third chapter of Pirkei Avos, Rabbi
Elazar Ben Azariah points out that knowledge (scholarship) alone is not
sufficient; wisdom must influence our actions in order to produce virtue.
Therefore, knowledge without wisdom can be dangerous, a fact that has been
proven in our time and throughout the ages.
Although Lilly lacked formal
education (she left school at the age of 12) she had acquired much wisdom over
her lifetime. Her entire Jewish education was supplied by her mother. From her
mother she learned how to keep a properly kosher home and observed how to be a
devoted wife and mother. Lilly loved living each day to its fullest and always
stopped to smell the roses. She loved her children and grandchildren and other
people’s children unconditionally. In many ways, Lilly reminded me of my
grandma (my mother’s mother) Pesha (Pauline). Similar to Lilly, my grandma
lacked formal education, but she too was incredibly wise and insightful. As a
child I learned practical psychology by observing grandma’s deeds and actions.
I remember fondly, at age seven, being in her kitchen, where she spent most of
her time when she wasn’t working in grandpa’s store. My grandma was a sturdy
woman whom I often observed lifting heavy objects and opening the toughest jars
and bottles. One day, my grandpa came into the kitchen, and my grandma said,
“Lee, would you please open this jar for me?” (Grandma referred to grandpa as
Lee, short for Leon [Leib]). My grandpa really struggled with that jar. Finally,
after running hot water over it, banging it against the counter, and prying it
with a screwdriver, he succeeded in his task. My grandma gave him an admiring
look which conveyed “my hero.” She kissed his cheek and said, “Thanks so much
for coming to the rescue. Now we have pickles for dinner.” At the time I was a
bit bewildered. When grandpa left, I innocently asked grandma, “Why didn’t you
just open the jar yourself?” To which she replied, “When you’re older, I’ll
explain.” In those days, a grandparent (or parent) could say that, and the
child knew that there were no further questions to be asked nor answers to be
given. By the time I was older, having watched grandma in action over the
years, I understood the answer.
My grandma was the akeres habayis, the ikar (essence) of her home. She was the home itself, which is how
Rabbi Yosei (Beraisa/Rashi Gitten 52A) referred to his wife. My grandma
intuitively knew that if you make your husband feel like a hero, he’ll behave
like a hero. In the many marriage workshops I’ve given over the years, I often
speak of my grandma. I explain that she taught me (by observing her) that men
flourish when they are admired and respected, and that women blossom when they
are cherished and appreciated. A wise wife can easily encourage her husband to
do just about anything if he feels that she (sincerely) admires him. It amazes
me how something so relatively simple is commonly overlooked by women who
complain about their husbands’ inattentiveness, not realizing that they often
have the ability to correct the situation.
Whether we want to motivate our
children or our husbands (or our employees), it’s best to catch them doing
something good – and compliment them. Important
note: For the women who are thinking that Lerner is a typical male
chauvinist (which is certainly possible), I will, in a future article, make
some suggestions specifically for husbands. Suffice to say that my grandma knew
how to help my grandpa become the best he could be, and as a result he
treasured and cherished her. It was quite beautiful to be in their home. No,
what grandma did was not manipulation; it was a combination of her knowledge
and wisdom which allowed her to be a true akeres
habayis.
* * *
The morning after Professor
Schroeder’s encounter with the grad student, we had a conversation about
scholars and scholarship. He casually mentioned something which impacted me
tremendously. He said, “Those who have it don’t have to prove it.” Simple but
absolutely profound. A person who is really wealthy or seriously brilliant or
very righteous isn’t posturing – he is who he is. He (or she) has nothing to
prove. The true talmid chacham is at
peace with himself and isn’t trying to impress you by “being a talmid chacham.” Those who possess real
knowledge and true wisdom do not require the approval of others.
Gerald Schroeder and my grandma,
each in their own way, teach us about knowledge, wisdom, and the importance of
humility, an important theme during these Sefira
days between Pesach and Lag B’Omer. According to the Talmud Yebamos 62b,
tragedy struck 24,000 (12,000 pairs) students of Rebbe Akiva who had knowledge
but lacked the wisdom and humility required to respect one another. This
resulted in their untimely demise.
At this time of the year, it’s good for
us to be reminded of the words of Ben Zoma (Pirkei
Avos 4), who states, “Who is wise? One who learns from everyone.”
