It’s interesting to note that the Vilna Gaon’s attitude towards memorisation and virtuosic analysis was not what one might expect from someone who knew “the entire Torah by heart the way that you know Ashrei (Psalm 145 – traditionally recited thrice daily), and backwards.” (That description is either in Ma’aseh Rav or Orhot Hayyim, I can’t remember which.) Firstly, he was adamantly against the kind of pilpul that Simon describes, stressing a breadth of learning in foundational texts rather than complex conceptual analysis. His instruction for daily Talmud study (only one part of the regimen he prescribed) was just to focus on the passage itself, with Rashi’s commentary, and preferably but not necessarily (“lo le’ikkuva”) the Tosafot. He said that one should revise each passage until one knows it well – “nearly by heart” but not by heart. But it is good to memorise at least one tractate so that if one gets stuck without books one can still study. (I believe this is all in Ma’aseh Rav.) This is actually far from the emphasis on memorisation that was prevalent in Eastern European Jewish circles at the time, with an emphasis on breadth education over intellectual games or performance.

There was at least one prominent opponent of the culture of memorisation in the medieval Islamic world, where it was (and remains) absolutely routine for children to commit the Quran to memory, and an educated member of society traditionally memorised far more. In an educational treatise that he wrote, al-Jahiz (8th-9th century Iraq) stated that people with creative minds “hate” memorisation as a technique, and he praises writing as a gift from God. A very similar attitude can be seen in the writings of the 11th century Jewish scholar and poet, Isaac Ibn Ghiyyat, who stresses the value of texts in educating whole societies as opposed to privileged individuals – as long as you can read, you don’t need to travel far and be a member of the inner circles of a great master in order to access ideas and information. I raise these examples just because it’s interesting to note that the problems that we might identify with these cultural practices have long been noted within those cultures themselves.

On a more personal note, it seems to me that despite the less creative element in memorisation, there is a lot to be gained from these practices. During my time in yeshiva and afterwards, I met quite a number of scholars who knew a tremendous amount of material by heart. Some of them were wonderfully creative thinkers – and not as performance, but with true profundity. When I compare that world with my own primary and secondary education (in academically selective public schools in Australia), I must say that I am saddened that we were never encouraged to “know lots of stuff”. The value was entirely placed on creativity and process, and then on performance in entry exams or final assessments. And did we really learn critical thinking? I’m not so sure. Did most of us emerge broadly conversant in the sources of Western culture? Certainly not. Maybe it’s time to find a synthesis between these approaches.

I’m curious if you felt John 10:22 did not qualify or if it is simply that this reference did not occur to you: “At that time the Feast of Dedication took place at Jerusalem. It was winter . . . “

In fact, Hilberg (whose three-volume study is a masterpiece) devotes a lot of time to the individual Judenraete of different countries, and it’s interesting to see how they differed. While some really earned the contempt that they were to receive for their actions, there were a lot of good people too, whose complicity was made without knowledge of where it would lead and which resulted in their own demise as well – occasionally at their own hands.