I am blessed with grandchildren both in Israel and the USA. All study Torah in fine yeshivos and seminaries, share the same beliefs in G-d and the authority of Torah and halachah, observe the same Shabbos and tefillin and kashrus. But despite all the similarities, they are very different.

My teenage Israeli grandson attends a chareidi yeshivah, and has never heard of Beethoven. Or Shakespeare. Or Rembrandt. But he has studied intensively the Rashba, Rambam’s Mishneh Torah, is familiar with Rishonim and Acharonim, and has no trouble negotiating a difficult folio of Talmud. In his chareidi milieu, chances are that in his lifetime he will never, ever hear of the cultural giants of Western civilization.

My teenage American grandson attends a fine yeshivah high school, but has not yet studied Rishonim, Acharonim, or the Mishneh Torah. As he continues learning Torah, he will undoubtedly be exposed to these giants of scholarship. But chances are that his Torah scholarship will never quite equal his Israeli cousin’s who, after all, has been studying Talmud intensively since he turned eight.

Can one who has serious knowledge of Western culture be considered a learned Jew without serious study of Talmud, Rambam, Rishonim, and Acharonim? No.

Can one who has serious knowledge of Torah be considered a learned Jew without ever having heard of Beethoven or Shakespeare or Rembrandt? Yes. Because ignorance of Shakespeare is no impediment to navigating the intricacies of Torah and Talmud.

The unavoidable fact is that in today’s society, solid Torah knowledge and solid general knowledge are often mutually exclusive. There are extraordinary individuals who master both worlds and are au courant with both the generic Rambam and the generic Rembrandt. But intensive Torah study in our day largely precludes any but the most cursory awareness of the non-Torah world.

Given the choice, which body of knowledge has the better chance of resisting assimilation and guaranteeing the Jewish future? Without denigrating the value and beauty of the Beethoven-Shakespeare-Rembrandt world, that world will not guarantee the Jewish future.

It follows, then, that if I am concerned with the long-term destiny of the Jewish people, which for me translates into maintaining the primacy of Torah, I should not be concerned by my Israeli grandchild’s unawareness of the classics of Western civilization. Even though he will never enjoy a Shakespearean sonnet, be uplifted by Beethoven’s Ninth, or be inspired by a vivid Rembrandt, and will know little science or mathematics, he will  be strengthening the foundation of the world that is the Torah, and will be maintaining the eternity of Am Yisrael. He will also make it more likely that his own unborn grandchildren will be familiar with the Rambam and his appurtenances, and will thus continue the millennial-long chain of Torah. And certainly he will not lack for genuine joy and inspiration from within the Torah, as King David says: “The precepts of G-d are upright, rejoicing the heart” (Tehillim 19:9).

It is a Hobson’s choice, but given today’s emergency considerations, there are no other options. With intermarriage and Jewish illiteracy decimating huge swaths of world Jewry, extraordinary measures are required, and perhaps certain luxuries — such as synthesizing Torah with some Western culture — must temporarily be set aside in favor of the deep, focused knowledge of Torah that has historically preserved us as a People. Such depth and focus will, for the foreseeable future, emanate primarily from those insitutions that follow the Israeli chareidi model. The Israeli yeshivos are not only highly intensive but offer the added advantage of the sanctity and ambience of the country itself. Jewish continuity hangs in the balance. The barbarians are at the gate; shock troops must be sent in.

All this I feel intellectually.

Nevertheless, I confess that part of me wishes, albeit guiltily, that this Israeli grandson had some worldly knowledge — even though I know that Western civilization came to an abrupt end when the heirs of German wissenschaft and kultur, who became the officers at the crematoria, listened raptly to Bach while the smoke of Jewish bodies curled out of the chimneys, and even though I understand those who feel that a Jew should reject anything connected with a bankrupt world culture. Still, although they have no Torah, the Nations do have some wisdom, as the Sages confirm, “Chochmah bagoyim taamin” (Eichah Rabbasi 2:13).

Thus it is that I find myself desiring the impossible: both Rambam and Rembrandt. But since I cannot, in today’s society, have both, Rembrandt will have to wait.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 746)