The pasuk implies the verity that, if you consult with the elders/the past traditions, you will not err in your logical conclusions. Why is this? Why is questioning our elders so much a part of present decision making? Horav Yissachar Ber, zl, m’Ritava quotes Horav Avraham Ragoler, zl (his grandfather), author of Maalos HaTorah and brother of the Gaon, zl, m’Vilna: How does one know whether the chiddush, novel Torah insight which he innovated, is true? How can one determine that what he is saying is consistent with Hashem and the Torah?
The Gaon answered that everything depends upon the foundation upon which one’s logic is built. If the foundation is indisputable, then it is a structure upon which one may confidently build. We may extrapolate from here that, when a person turns to his elders, he receives answers and explanations that his grandfather heard from his grandfather, who heard from his grandfather and so on, tracing back through the generations to Moshe Rabbeinu. We establish truth through its connection to the past. I think we may add that the questioner must believe in the mesorah and view the elder as a link in that mesorah.
One may ask: Every religion has its elders who expound its doctrines and traditions. Their followers also consult their elders and rely upon inherited teachings. What, then, makes our tradition more authentic than theirs? The answer is to study history and observe whether each generation has faithfully adhered to the teachings and principles of its predecessors.
Hashem taught truth, together with faith in Him, to Adam. Yet, what happened over the next twenty generations? Gradually, distortions and changes entered until Terach, Avraham’s father, became an idol worshipper. The original teachings had been altered beyond recognition.
Avraham Avinu, however, rediscovered and reestablished belief in Hashem. He transmitted that truth faithfully to his descendants, who, in turn, passed it on to theirs. Torah’s An unbroken chain of transmission preserved the Torah’s teachings.
When we can rely upon our elders, because they teach what their elders taught them, and those elders teach what they received from the generations before them, then we know that we are learning the truth. The closer an idea remains to its original source, without alteration or embellishment, the more confidently we can trust its author.
Tradition is not preserved because circumstances are ideal. It is preserved because people refuse to break the chain. Torah is neither tied to geography, nor is it dependent on stability. As long as the chain of mesorah is not broken, it will survive. Unfortunately, during the last few centuries, secular movements have arisen determined to sever that chain of transmission. They preached that religion must evolve with the times – not remain archaic – stuck in the past. Sadly, they succeeded in one area, tearing unsuspecting families from their heritage to the point that, today, they have nothing.
Something is deemed archaic only when a person chooses to treat it as dead. However, when we study Chumash, thrive on the analytics of Chazal in the Talmud, penetrate the sugyos through the commentaries of the Rishonim – we are not engaging with an old artifact; we are engaging with the truth.
The Torah is not “past” in the sense of being displaced by time. It is outside of time. Truth does not expire, and, therefore, it does not become outdated simply because times change. What changes is not the truth itself, but whether people are willing to remain connected to it.
When we study Torah, we are not reading history alone. We are entering a chain of transmission that is still alive. People are still receiving, analyzing, and living today the same ideas that earlier generations learned. In that sense, Rashi is not “ancient”; he is present in every beis medrash in which talmidim still study his words seriously.
This is why the Torah is described as Toras Chaim – a living Torah. Life is defined by continuity: as long as something is being transmitted, engaged with, and built upon faithfully, it is not dead and cannot be dismissed as obsolete.
The other day, I had the privilege of attending a grandson’s Chumash Seudah. To see six-year-olds dancing with fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers, all singing passionately, was deeply moving. One could notice the emotion on the faces of the adults, and it raises a powerful question. After witnessing such a compelling sight, can anyone question the “life” of the Torah?
We have been doing this for over 133 generations. The Torah will never grow old; it will never become archaic. I cannot say the same for those whose self-loathing prevents them from fully engaging in and enjoying “living” Judaism.
