I am an assimilator.
Not in the way you might think of the term. I’m not in favor of Jews becoming assimilated.
Here’s what I mean.
When I learn something that sits well with me, that resonates with a sense of truth, that idea becomes part of my subconscious reference universe. From then on, whatever I should I encounter in life, learning, or experience will be evaluated somehow in that intangible realm. It either “feels” right, or not.
An articulator, on the other hand, is one of those amazing individuals who remember almost word for word what they have learned, and exactly who taught it. They can access all this information at seemingly lightning speed, make all the logical connections necessary to evaluate new information, and articulate the similarities and distinctions that have emerged.
It’s not that I can’t. I’m just not disciplined enough to do it. At least, not usually.
After all, it seems to me that the ultimate purpose of articulating thought, is so that it can be understood and then assimilated. So why bother with the middle man?
Here’s a story. When I lived in the Virgin Islands, my parents had a house high up on the side of a mountain overlooking the harbor of Charlotte Amalie. I remember once my brother and I were sitting on the veranda, and he was talking to me. (My brother, Marty, was finishing up a BA in Religion at Syracuse University. He would go on to get his MA from Florida State, and his Ph.d from Brown University. He became a Professor of Comparative Religion at the University of Virginia, and then moved on to the University of Washington in Seattle, where he was a tenured Professor until he retired.) Anyway, Marty is an articulator, verbally and in writing.
So, I don’t remember the exact subject of his articulation, but it was something about the relationship of thought to perception and it’s relation to action in the world. While he was speaking, I noticed something below in the underbrush, and blurted something like “Look Marty, a mongoose!”. Marty stopped in mid-sentence. He looked at me and said, “Here I am talking about it, and you’re doing it.”
One problem with being an assimilator, is that you really have nothing to show for it. What I mean is, I can’t enumerate or quantify what I have learned. It only shows up during a conversation or a discussion, but even then, I can’t specify who taught this, or where, or when. I am so impressed by people who can specify “chapter and verse”.
I am so fortunate to have sons who put up with this. They are always very supportive and encouraging in our learning together, and I pretend not to know that I’m not being very impressive. My youngest, Avi, learns with me over the phone every week. He decided during his recent visit to Israel (with his amazing bride, Leah Gittel), that he would teach me a method of learning, and that by the time we finished Masechet Chagigah, I would be able to learn any gemora. We learn once a week, and I am supposed to review 20 minutes a day - the new stuff and back to the beginning.
Trouble is, there’s an expectation that I am putting it to memory. Well, I can remember the concepts, and maybe even apply them, but word for word? And who said what? And the structure of the argument? Well, “that dog don’t hunt”.
I was listening to a psychology lecture by Jordan Peterson. It was the first lecture of a course on personality at the University of Toronto. He was giving pointers to his students about how to study. He said that highlighting doesn’t help. After reading, he recommended writing a summary of the section you read, to assist in remembering it.
That seemed like a good idea to me, and has some similarities to Avi’s method. So I decided I would sit down and start to memorize the gemora I’m learning. Summarizing it in my head, so to speak. I’ve had some success, but my personality is very rejectionist about this kind of thing. I had the same reaction to memorizing mathematical formulas way back in high school. I spent practically the first 12 years of my life memorizing times tables, spelling lists, historical dates, scientific and geographic terminology. I realize that some things just have to be memorized, but I think I’ve paid my dues!
As my Mother, of blessed memory, would say, "What are you knocking yourself out for?".
I feel the same way, at this point in my life, about regular schedules.
Anyway, I ought to just come out and admit it. I’m lazy. I’m lazy, and then I whine about it. There’s nothing more pathetic than that.
But I also believe in perseverance and discipline. So I battle myself daily. When I win, it’s great. When I don’t, I tend to feel sorry for myself. I suspect that I waste half of every week this way. Imagine what I could accomplish if I only had a single-minded purpose?
Working on myself is my full-time job, which is actually justifiable from a Torah perspective, so maybe I’m doing OK after all? There have been critical moments in my life which required instantaneous action. Fully assimilated knowledge becomes practically instinctual. Without thinking, I reacted at light speed with precision and accuracy. That’s not necessarily what an articulator might be capable of. I felt good about that.
Or maybe not?
Or, is it just me?
