By Kiki Arochas, Arts and Cultures Editor
It was the first day of Yeshiva University orientation. I was a wide eyed sophomore, taking in the new scene around me. Yeshiva Student Union (YSU) President Baruch Lerman (YC ‘23) was leading a tour of the campus, coming across Glueck Beit Midrash. After explaining what the building was, he paused briefly. “This is important for all you guys to hear,” he said. “Go to the yeshiva program that is good for you. Don’t just go to where your rabbis said unless it’s the right one for you.” This comment, of course, fell on deaf ears. It was a cute sentiment, but I was high off my year in Israel. I already knew which program I was destined for.
For background, there are four learning programs on the Wilf campus in YU for Judaic studies. Two were approved by my Rebbeim: The Beis Medrash Program (BMP) and Mazer Yeshiva Program (MYP). This was because these were the two programs that most closely represented general yeshiva learning: three hours of seder in the morning, followed by a one to two hour long shiur.
The program that did not fit this model was Isaac Breuer College (IBC). I had been told specifically by my rabbis that I could join any learning program, except, of course, IBC. Even a day into orientation these letters were still as meaningless to me as advanced calculus, but I knew the reputation IBC had. It wasn’t meant for a good Gemara learning yeshiva bachur like myself.
So, in line with the advice of my Rebbeim, I went to MYP. And I struggled. I couldn’t come on time to seder and shiur was incredibly difficult to attend consistently. To put it bluntly, I was burnt out of learning. Over time, I dropped night seder entirely. I switched between chavrusas, each ending sooner than the last. My friends urged me to switch programs. “You’d be a much better fit for IBC,” I was told. “It has what you’re looking for.”
Still, I resisted; the specter of stigma weighed heavy on my wide-eyed aspirations. I loved the Rebbe of my shiur, and wanted to prove I could still be the guy I was in shana alef – a learner who cared for Gemara and took it seriously. But that guy was gone. Or, more accurately, he had evolved. Counseling Center appointments made me realize that the validation I was seeking through Gemara wasn’t healthy. I wasn’t learning Gemara because I thought it was important – I was learning it because I wanted to be perceived positively by others. I had to find what I deemed important and spiritually fulfilling. I had to carve my own path.
So, I switched to IBC this semester. I don’t know yet if it will be everything that was promised. However, that’s not the point of what I want to say here anyway. I believe that there is a program that suits each person best. I don’t now believe that MYP is an awful program. I’ve seen many people excel through its top tier Rebbeim as well as its sense of community and brotherhood within the shiurim and beyond. Nevertheless, I have also seen people struggle in MYP. I’ve seen people smiling away to keep up appearances while slowly drowning in their learning, overwhelmed by the expectations of others and themselves. But this doesn’t have to be the reality. People should feel comfortable going to the program that suits them best, regardless of which yeshiva in Israel they attended.
The learning programs here do not have a hierarchy. They are options, side by side, all equivalent but different, adjusted to meet each different Jew’s needs. To switch is not to go up or down; it is to try something new. To switch is not to accept that one has failed; it is to realize that one has grown.
I won’t try to undersell that change is difficult. It took me two years to accept that MYP wasn’t the right program for me. That’s precisely why I write this for the first edition of this year. I want that message to ring in your head clearly: your learning program does not have to be written in stone. Whichever program you are in, if it works, fantastic. If not, don’t chain yourself to it under the guise of a higher level of religiosity. No one is better than anyone here. The doors of YU are open to you, whichever hallway you choose to walk down.
Photo Caption: The Harry Fischel Beit Midrash on the Yeshiva University Wilf Campus
Photo Credit: Kiki Arochas