We now come to an important juncture in the beraisa. According to one version, a new mishnah begins here, and in any case we are standing at the midpoint of the forty-eight acquisitions: twenty-four behind us and twenty-four ahead. What deserves attention is that the language of the beraisa changes at this point.
In the first twenty-four, almost every one of the ways opened with the letter beis, meaning "with" or "by means of": "b'Talmud, bishmias ha'ozen, ba'arichas sefasayim" - with study, with careful listening, with arranging the words on the lips, and so on.
At the opening of the chapter we noted the comparison between the twenty-four gifts of kehunah and the thirty prerogatives of kingship on the one hand and the forty-eight acquisitions of Torah on the other, and the question - in yeshiva language - of whether these are a cause or a sign: is this the way a person becomes a talmid chacham, or is this the way one can identify him, that he embodies these traits? Both sides are true, and that is how we resolved the matter. But in the first half of the beraisa the emphasis rests mainly on the cause, on the action: whoever wishes to be a reservoir of Torah must minimize laughter, minimize worldly involvement, and so on.
From here onward the beis disappears, and in its place comes the definite article hei: "HaMakir es mekomo", "v'hasameach b'chelko", "v'ha'oseh seyag lidvarav" - the one who recognizes his place, the one who is happy with his portion, the one who makes a protective fence around his affairs.
Even if these traits are both a cause and a sign, it is clear that the emphasis has now shifted to the sign: who is the person in whom genuine Torah is to be found, the real thing? The one who knows his place, the one who is happy with his portion, and so on. And consequently, whoever wishes to be a talmid chacham and does not embody a particular one of these traits should work on it. This is an important transition, and from here we will go through the traits one by one and learn them from both directions.
"HaMakir es mekomo":
The expression "his place" is ambiguous, and for that reason several approaches are offered by the commentators. The basic simple reading builds on the theme of humility: the true dwelling place of Torah is a person who knows where his place in the world is and does not overstep his boundaries. In the beis midrash in the times of Chazal there was a defined hierarchical order, and one's seat was determined by his standing: the greater and more accomplished scholar sat further forward, and the lesser and younger ones sat in the back. In other words, every person knew his place quite literally. And this has practical implications: someone in the presence of a person who knows more than he does would do better to stay quiet and listen, and it is not his place to speak up and offer his own insight.
A completely different approach asks: what is the place of a person in whom Torah is embodied and who has internalized its values? His true place is in the World to Come. He recognizes that he is here only temporarily: his soul came from Heaven and to Heaven it returns, and he is nothing more than a passing traveler. Therefore he does not sink into this world and is not excessively preoccupied with it.
This idea is illustrated by a well known story: a wealthy man came to visit the Chofetz Chaim, and saw his home - one bedroom, a dirt floor, a table and chairs and a small bed, with the outhouse outside. He said to him, "You are the leader of the Jewish people, and this is not the way a leader ought to live." The Chofetz Chaim asked him where he was from and where he was staying, and the man answered that he was visiting from the big city and was staying at the inn down the street, which had only one bed and a shared bathroom at the end of the hall. Said the Chofetz Chaim, "A wealthy man like you, why are you living in a place with one bedroom and no bathroom? It makes no sense." The wealthy man replied, "What kind of question is that? I am only passing through here." Said the Chofetz Chaim, "So am I."
This is the idea: one who truly embodies Torah understands that he is only a passing traveler for a hundred and twenty years, and therefore he makes do with little and manages. The person who is the true vessel for Torah lives with his mind set on the World to Come and not on this world, and consequently he naturally tends to focus on what is essential and becomes a reservoir of Torah.
A third approach: a person must know his place, meaning to recognize his strengths and his weaknesses - to use his strengths to serve the Jewish people in the way that suits him, and to recognize where he still has room to grow. And this, of course, is the way he will improve, learn more Torah and grow in that area as needed.
"V'hasameach b'chelko":
This is the same idea from another angle, presented in the positive: what a person's own contribution is.
"Veha'oseh seyag lidvarav":
A "seyag" is a fence. And since the word "davar" carries two meanings, the commentators differ as to the intent: some explain that it refers to his words, placing a protective fence around his speech; and others explain that it refers to his affairs and his undertakings.
A fence around one's speech: The precedent of Antigonus of Socho is cited. We learned at the beginning of the tractate that he told his students not to serve in order to receive a reward, and his students Tzadok and Baitus understood him to mean that there is no reward in the end. He did not succeed in building a proper fence that would ensure that his students understood correctly, and that is the Mishnah's critique here. From this we derive an important principle: the responsibility to transmit the teaching clearly rests on the teacher and not on the student. A teacher may not say, "I said my piece; let them go over their notes and figure it out themselves." He must be available for questions, present his ideas clearly, repeat himself and give the students whatever they need, because it is his responsibility to make sure they understood his words and did not garble them.
A fence around one's affairs: A person takes care to place a protective fence around his life so that he will not stumble. Conceptually, he wears both a belt and suspenders, and sets two alarm clocks. For example, someone who has to deliver a class or attend a simchah thirty minutes away should not leave thirty minutes beforehand, since half the time there is traffic, and as we all know, unexpected things happen. If it matters to him, he must build in a margin of safety and factor in the unexpected in advance, rather than assume the best-case scenario and end up missing the very obligation he set out to fulfill.
"Ve'eino machzik tovah le'atzmo":
He does not take the credit for himself, and here too there are several approaches. There is a well-known statement of Harry Truman, and in my view it is the central point of this Mishnah: "It is amazing what you can accomplish if you do not care who gets the credit." This is the fundamental idea: the true master of Torah does not seek to stand in the spotlight, to take credit for his deeds and always to be "the man." He does not need to be "the man," and he lets someone else be.
More than that: a person who takes the credit for himself - what about all the other factors and people who helped him reach where he is? There is no such thing as a self-made man. He had parents, teachers, friends, an employer and opportunities that came his way. And first and foremost - siyata diShmaya at every single step. Therefore he must give the credit to the Holy One, blessed be He, and not attribute his success to himself, for had he faced the challenges that faced others who did not succeed, perhaps he too would not have succeeded.
"Ahuv":
This quality demonstrates more than any other that we are dealing here with a sign and not a cause, for it is not a command but a description: he is beloved - beloved by the Holy One, blessed be He, and beloved by people. Whom the Holy One, blessed be He, loves and to what degree, we have no way of knowing; He loves us all, and we are in the dark as to the nature of His relationship with us. But whom people love is evident and clear.
And this is the intent of the beraisa: the true storehouse of Torah will be beloved by people, for "her ways are ways of pleasantness," and a great principle in the Torah is "you shall love your fellow as yourself." One who has acquired Torah and has become blended with it to the point that he walks and talks Torah will be a lover of Israel; he will love Jews and they will love him back. People will love his presence, for he increases peace, gives advice and has no ulterior motives. He has internalized all the values of the Torah, and so people naturally love him.
As a side point, it is worth highlighting: this speaks of a Torah scholar who holds no "political" position. A shul rabbi, or anyone in a public role of that sort, is forced to take sides and set policy, and not everyone will agree with him, and by the nature of things there will be disappointment - and that is a different matter. But generally speaking, someone fortunate enough not to be called upon to take sides in such matters ought to be beloved by people. And if they do not love him, this is not a question of winning friends and influencing people in the Dale Carnegie style, but a sign that he has not internalized the Torah's foundational values, which would automatically have made him into a person whose company people seek. Therefore, one whose presence people do not love should start working on himself, because it means he has not properly internalized the Torah.
"Ve'ohev es haMakom":
He loves Hashem. True, we have no way of knowing how much Hashem loves us, and in any case His goodness is beyond our grasp; but a person who is the real thing as a talmid chacham will genuinely love Hashem. First of all, this follows naturally: the Rambam explained that learning lishmah means learning out of love for Hashem and not out of any other motive, and that love in turn pushes a person to learn more Torah and drives him to deepen his understanding of it. There is a beautiful definition of love: love means that what is important to you is important to me. And one who loves Hashem knows what is important to Him: that a person cling to Him, be connected to Him and learn His Torah - and so he will learn His Torah. Clearly, whoever has absorbed the message of the Torah will love Hashem, and that says a great deal: someone looking for the real thing should look for a person who is genuinely in love with Hashem.
"Ve'ohev es haberiyos" - and loving people:
He loves humanity, every human being, and certainly every Jew. The explanation of many of the qualities in this beraisa rests on a single foundational premise: the Torah was not given to Avraham Avinu or to Moshe Rabbeinu, but to Klal Yisrael in its entirety - "morashah kehillas Yaakov" - and it belongs to all of us. Anyone who wishes to be a vessel that holds Torah must be connected to the nation, to Klal Yisrael, and be one with them, because that is the fitting vessel. The Torah has no interest in a person standing alone, separate and disconnected. Therefore one who loves people and is connected to them becomes the natural bearer of Torah, living a life that suits the Torah and possessing a vessel that suits it.
More than that: one who loves others is naturally driven to share with them, and when we are speaking of a talmid chacham, to share his Torah with them. And it is only natural that when the focus is on sharing Torah, the learning itself becomes clearer and more precise, and siyata diShmaya comes to him in the way he teaches the material. The result is that he becomes a better reservoir of Torah, full of Torah and connected to it, precisely because he loves others and wants to share it with them.
"Ohev es hatzedakos" - loving acts of righteousness:
In some versions of the beraisa this quality appears, and in others it is omitted. If it is part of our text, the idea is that the framework and mission of the Torah is to build a society driven by love and by justice, and this is stated explicitly: Hashem chose Avraham because he would teach his children the way of Hashem and to love justice. It follows that a person who is a product of Torah cannot tolerate injustice: the sight of wrongdoing drives him wild, while he loves to see justice done. One need only look at Moshe Rabbeinu standing up to the Egyptian, at Moshe Rabbeinu standing up for Tzipporah and her sisters, and at Avraham Avinu standing up for Sedom. We want justice, and it is fitting that seeing justice denied should upset and frustrate us. A person with Torah running through his veins genuinely loves to see justice done, and cannot bear the opposite.
"Ohev es hatochachos" - loving rebuke:
Loving acts of rebuke. First and foremost, this describes someone who is serious about improving himself and refining himself until he becomes a complete person. The golden ticket, the most amazing resource of all, is a person who will take the trouble to say to him: "I watched you daven Shemoneh Esrei, and you pronounced that word incorrectly." Although the natural reaction is "I know what I am doing" - that reaction is terrible. This is his lucky day, because someone who invites that kind of criticism gets an alert about everything he is doing wrong. How else would he ever straighten out his ways? So this is something to love and to see as the best thing in the world. And even if the one offering the rebuke happens to be wrong this time, one must not discourage him and must not become defensive, because otherwise he will say nothing the next time.
More than that: every person has shortcomings. Beyond the theme of humility that recurs here so many times, the pasuk says: "Ki adam ein tzaddik ba'aretz asher yaaseh tov velo yecheta" - there is no righteous man on earth who does good and never sins. There is no one who does not make mistakes, and anyone who is doing good is bound to make mistakes, so he must be attentive to whoever shows him where there is room for improvement. Furthermore, openness to rebuke demonstrates that his learning is for the sake of Heaven - people see that there is no attempt here to impress them and convince them how smart he is and how good he is, since he is open to being corrected.
There is another angle as well: delivering rebuke to others. At times one has to help others straighten out their path and walk the straight road, and this too is something to love. Of course, someone who is positive in his Torah must do this in a way of love and genuine care, in a way that will be heard, but the obligation rests upon him to help people and to care about them enough to bring them back to the right path.
"Ohev es hameisharim" - loving uprightness:
He loves integrity: straightness, moral wholeness, and a moral compass that points in a straight line. This is certainly both a cause and a sign of a talmid chacham. First and foremost, one must avoid crooked thinking and crooked reasoning. What is crooked thinking? When a person has an idea that he wants to be true, an agenda, a ruling he is hoping for or a leniency he is aiming at, and he first decides "this is where we are going," and only afterward arranges the rationalization, the reasoning and the logic to support what he wants. Straight thinking means following the rules, the principles and the truth, which lead to wherever they lead - whatever the outcome turns out to be.
And in a broader sense, in every area of life: a person should be principled and not take the easy way out for himself. He should have rules, values and principles that govern his life, and he should live by them. It cannot be that everything is an exception, a special case, an emergency that requires a leniency. Yashrus means that there are principles and one lives by them, and this is what one must love.
Beyond this: one must recognize that the Torah is meant to straighten a person out and refine him. True, all the laws of the Torah and their countless details form a rule-based system that must be kept, but the overall program of the Torah is to perfect people and to produce a perfect world, a perfect society and a perfect person. Therefore the laws and mitzvos are not a matter of mindless technicalities and royal decrees that one performs simply because the King said so; there is such an element to them, but make no mistake: ultimately there is an agenda here, and the Holy One, blessed is He, chose precisely these rules for a reason. In Sefer Horeb, for example, the author goes through every mitzvah and explains what it is designed to accomplish in a person's character, in his community and in his relationship to it. This is what yashrus means: to love that the Torah is the instrument through which a person is straightened out and refined.
Some focus on a different angle: not to flatter people, not to say one thing while meaning another, not to give a thumbs up to someone who deserves a thumbs down. Yashrus means loving the truth and where it leads, and therefore when a person is not behaving properly, one should not be overly political and diplomatic, and one should not lie to his face and tell him his conduct is fine when it is not.
"Mitrachek min hakavod" - he distances himself from honor:
A first and basic way to understand this is that it is a safeguard protecting his humility. We have noted many times the importance of humility, and so it makes sense that a person would avoid honor so that it should not go to his head. And whoever runs away from honor, honor runs after him, and that is the true honor, the honor of Torah.
Beyond this, the fundamental point: one must avoid situations that obligate people to honor him or that give them the opportunity to do so. If he is asked to be the guest of honor at a meal, he politely declines. If he has to deliver a shiur and people stand up for him, he finds a way to minimize it. The bottom line: the focus has to be on doing the right thing before the Holy One, blessed is He, and on gaining His approval rather than the approval of people; and it is very hard to remain as humble as one needs to be when everyone is telling a person how wonderful he is.
"V'lo megis libo b'talmudo" - and he is not arrogant about his learning:
One approach: not only should he not let others honor him, but even in his own heart he should not honor himself and become arrogant.
But it seems that the fundamental sense here is what is called in English "resting on your laurels" - an expression whose origin is in the Greek Olympic games, where the victor was crowned with a wreath of leaves. "Resting on your laurels" means that once you have won you no longer need to compete; it is enough for you to be last year's champion, and you are not required to do it all over again and strive for greater excellence. "Lo megis libo b'talmudo" means not saying "I have already achieved what I need to achieve." Everything accomplished until now is wonderful, but one has to keep going: someone who learned in the morning should learn again at night; someone who learned well yesterday should learn again today; someone who finished Shas - it is time to start again. He should not congratulate himself, for as Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai said, this is what you were created for.
"V'eino sameach b'hora'ah" - and he does not rejoice in issuing rulings:
He does not take pleasure in ruling on questions and handing down halachic decisions. The principle: every person makes mistakes, and it is easy to err. It is bad enough when a person errs in his own life - there he bears the responsibility for his own mistake; but when another person comes to him for a ruling, for a halachic opinion and a decision, and he gets it wrong, that is far more serious, because he is not only damaging himself but damaging someone else's life. True, it may well be that he has an obligation to do so, that it is a mitzvah in his hands and it is the right thing; but apart from its being the right thing, he has nothing to gain and everything to lose by ruling on the question. If he ruled correctly, wonderful, and he has gained nothing; and if he erred, it is terrible, for he was the source of that person's sin. Therefore he should not be eager to be the one who rules, and if possible he should leave it to someone else. And we have already learned in an earlier Mishnah that one who rejoices in issuing rulings is a fool and a wicked person.
"Nosei b'ol im chaveiro" - he shares the burden with his fellow:
First and foremost - empathy. It is worth pausing on the difference between sympathy and empathy: sympathy means that I recognize and understand that something bad has happened to another person, that this is a hard and painful place, and I feel sympathy toward him. Someone lost his grandmother, and I am very sorry to hear it. But while I am on the phone telling him how sorry I am, if I spill coffee on my shirt, chances are I will be more upset about the coffee stain than about the loss of his grandmother, because I do not feel his pain, I am only aware that he is suffering it. Empathy is sharing in the pain: the feeling he is experiencing, I experience along with him.
This is true for good and for bad alike. At a wedding one can say, "At my son's wedding I felt wonderful, and at your son's wedding I am happy too," but empathy is actually experiencing the joy. There is a saying in our family: joy shared is joy doubled, and trouble shared is trouble cut in half. And although this is not a statement of Chazal, there are certainly statements of Chazal that support the idea. A true talmid chacham is part of the people and part of the nation - Klal Yisrael received the Torah as a whole, as one man with one heart - and therefore he shares in the joy of his fellow Jew and in his difficult hours. Sharing in his pain helps him get through it: one who visits a sick person takes away one sixtieth of his illness, and when a person shares with another, that other feels he is not doing this alone, and it gives him the strength to carry on.
Beyond emotional empathy there is a fundamental point here: bearing the burden means practical assistance. One who sees his friend struggling with his load, whatever it may be, makes himself useful and helpful and does something about it. This is the mark of the true talmid chacham: not merely that he learned a great deal of Torah, but that the Torah entered his very bones, and therefore when he sees a Jew in distress he responds with action and with usefulness. In this way he becomes a fitting vessel to receive the Torah.
Another approach directs this to talmud Torah itself: a person is learning with his friend, and the friend is having trouble formulating his thought - he disagrees with him, and when he begins to bring his proof he forgets what he was about to say, or he realizes that there is a loose end still to be tied up. He should help him. Bearing the burden with a friend means helping him formulate his Torah thought, his piece, and clarify it. Even if he claims his friend is mistaken, and even if he really is mistaken, he should help him reach the end of his thought, for there is nothing but gain in it: he himself will think the sugya through to its end with clarity, he will see his friend's point of view, and he will help him arrive at the place he needs to reach in his learning.
"Umachri'o l'chaf zechus" - and tips the scale in his favor:
Some understood this literally, as a continuation of the previous quality of bearing the burden - that he carries the greater part of the load, fifty one percent of the burden on his own shoulders and forty nine on his friend's. Although this is somewhat puzzling, it is one approach. But in general the point here follows the idea of judging favorably: helping a person so that the scale is tipped in his favor.
Every person goes through life, and in every social interaction part of his mind is occupied with the question, "How do I present myself as good and as competent?" Everyone is thinking about this all the time: the way one speaks, the way one dresses and the way one behaves all aim to broadcast, "I am a good person, I am a competent person." And yet none of us is perfectly good and none of us is perfectly competent, and we all sometimes fail morally and stumble with two left feet. What this means is that a person should make it his practice to help his friend preserve his dignity and to cover over his shortcomings. This is not dishonesty; it is the very same way a person conducts himself with regard to himself: he is not being dishonest when he presents himself in the best possible light, and so too he should help his friend present himself in the best possible light, so that people will judge him favorably.
There is a well known saying, heard from Hillary Clinton, though it probably did not originate with her: "We judge others by their worst actions, and we judge ourselves by our best intentions." Just as a person wants to be judged by his good intentions, so should he judge his fellow by his good intentions: let him step for a moment into the other's head, and perhaps he did not mean anything so bad; and in truth, had he come from the other's place, he too might have arrived at the same opinion, the same action and the same approach. Many times we find in Chazal that when the one delivering the lesson said something that was not understood, someone said, "Rebbi, perhaps this is what you meant."
And sometimes a person says something that others laugh at, and the one giving the shiur - Rava or another - remarks that if he is an important person, one should not laugh at his words but should relate to them seriously. It emerges that a person must tip the scale in his friend's favor, both in his own thinking and in the thinking of others.
"Ma'amido al ha'emes" - and sets him straight on the truth:
This is not speaking about a person's moral failings but about his learning. One who sees his friend learning and making a mistake - it would be terrible for him to say, "This is not my problem, if he does not understand, it is not a big deal." There is always that one fellow in the shiur or in the yeshiva whom people turn to when they do not understand something, because he understands best. It is worth being that fellow. If these qualities are causes, then this forces a person to clarify matters for himself: one who helps others reach clarity generates clarity within himself. And if it is a sign, then the true talmid chacham is the one who sets his friend straight on the truth, who stands ready and available, and whoever has a question, he helps him work through it and reach clarity. This is what he represents.
"Ma'amido al hashalom" - and establishes him in peace:
This is the next link in the chain. What is being discussed here is not rebuke over a moral failing, and not truth either, but peaceful relations between Jews and their fellows and between one person and another. The verse says "bakesh shalom v'rodfeihu" - one must pursue peace and love it. And more important than that: this is the mark of a talmid chacham, and it is a foundational trait, "talmidei chachamim marbim shalom ba'olam" - Torah scholars increase peace in the world - they make it their business to turn the world into a place of peace. That is the real thing. When you see a supposed talmid chacham who creates strife, who gets people fighting and brings people to discomfort, that is not the real thing. "Ma'amido al ha-shalom" means that a talmid chacham makes it his business to help people get along with one another: certainly regarding himself, so that if he has a quarrel with someone he finds a way to satisfy him and end in peace; and also in the way of Aharon HaKohen, who, though he was not a party to the matter, when he saw two people fighting he made it his business to bring peace. For there is no vessel that holds Torah better than peace, and therefore a person must make peace in order to ensure that Torah is present.
"Meyashev libo b'talmudo":
In many versions the word "libo" is omitted, and the text reads "meyushav b'talmudo" - that he learns in a settled manner.
According to the version "meyashev libo": If something does not sit right with a person, that is a warning sign. He must get to the bottom of it, get answers, and settle the matter. This does not refer to someone who disagrees - he may well be entitled to disagree, and there may be two legitimate opinions here. Rather, sometimes a person says: "This makes no sense, how could they have said such a thing?", and at that point he must dig deep and put things in order until he has precisely settled the legitimacy and the logic of that opinion. And this is important, because if he does not do so, there are two major consequences. First, a dismissive attitude toward the Torah and toward the sage will develop within him - he will say, chas v'shalom, even subconsciously, "they say foolish things," because he rejected what was said. And second, something that is not understood and does not sit right necessarily indicates a disconnect that must be resolved: perhaps he needs to learn something he did not previously understand, or to put his values and his thinking in order.
According to the version "meyushav b'talmudo": that his learning should be settled and orderly. First, to begin by laying down clear foundations: to clarify the basis and to understand what is being learned before moving on to pilpul, to difficulties, and to "what if" questions. First one must make sure that the foundations are solid, orderly and understood.
There is here an entirely different approach, one that touches on the manner of learning: learning must be done in a settled way - consistent and regular, not sporadic and not intermittent, not rising and falling and not breaking off in the middle. One must learn patiently and not rush to draw conclusions.
And a further approach relates to the teacher's side. Since we are dealing with a sign, the teacher who is a good educator and possesses this quality of settledness will teach people in a clear, organized, orderly and methodical fashion, building from the bottom up, from the foundations and upward. In this way it is not only a clear presentation, but the students will be able to understand clearly, and he ensures that the learning is done in an orderly and well-grounded manner.
"Sho'el k'inyan u'meishiv k'halachah":
There are versions that count this as one trait and versions that count it as two separate traits: "sho'el k'inyan" - he asks on the topic; "u'meishiv k'halachah" - he answers to the point and properly. We will discuss each of them separately.
"Sho'el k'inyan": To ask about the topic and to stay focused; not to ask the "what if" questions that lead away from the matter, and worse than that - questions that are entirely off topic. You are learning Pirkei Avos, and suddenly a question from Maseches Gittin comes up. One should not do this: there is plenty of time afterward to explore anything you want to explore, but right now you must focus on the task at hand. And indeed one should ask questions - but questions that are on topic and to the point. One who asks off the topic, apart from distracting himself so that things are not settled and clear in his mind, also distracts the rest of the class; and furthermore, he is looking for trouble with the rabbi, since the rabbi will either be embarrassed, or will not give a good answer, or will give a mistaken answer because he is not currently immersed in that sugya.
On the other hand, there is a directive here to be one who asks. If a person has a question, he should not ignore it, but should raise it and resolve it, and not shy away from doing so. He should investigate in depth, but only as a matter of substance: in a rational, orderly and relevant way.
A different approach, according to the sign of a talmid chacham: the pedagogical method must begin with a question. This is a uniquely Jewish form of education - every Gemara lesson opens with a difficulty, every dvar Torah begins with a difficulty, and the Pesach seder opens with the Four Questions.
The reason the question is so important for the teacher, before he gives the answer, is that as long as a person does not understand that he does not know something, it does not stick; it goes in one ear and out the other. But when he is asked and does not know the answer, a small hole is carved out in his mind, and he feels that there is a void here that needs to be filled and he searches for an answer; and when it comes, it fills the void and it has a place and a niche where it takes hold and remains. This is a big difference. If I tell you in passing what the largest rodent in the world is, you will say "nice" and forget it immediately. But if I ask you, "What is the largest rodent in the world?", and you think and wonder - "I don't know. A rabbit? A rodent? I'm not sure" - and then I tell you "a capybara," you will say: "Ah, a capybara, the largest rodent, now I know." It goes into its place and you remember it. That is "sho'el k'inyan": raising questions on the topic, so that the students have a way to remember.
"U'meishiv k'halachah": He answers to the point - correctly, truthfully and fully, without blurring. One who does not know the answer is entitled to say that he does not know; but one who does know should not blur the matter or talk around it in circles, but should say things as they are. An answer should not open with "that is a dispute." A question was asked - this is the law; and if it is relevant, one can add with an asterisk that in truth this is a dispute between the Shach and the Taz, and the like. It is important that the questioner receive a clear answer, and not empty words, blurring and lack of clarity.
"Shomei'a u'mosif":
He listens, understands, and then adds. The point is a very important one: someone who relates to his learning as instructions for what he must do is connected to the reality of the matters and to their details, since they have to be practical. The intention to fulfill the Torah is essential: "study is not the main thing, but action." The purpose of Torah, first and foremost, is the ability to carry out the instructions that the Holy One, Blessed is He, wants. Therefore a person must be focused: "This is what the Holy One, Blessed is He, has to say, and it matters to me to understand what He has to say." As a result he will pay more attention, his Torah will be more real to him, he will remember it better and he will be more involved in it. This is one who learns in order to do.
"Machkim es rabo":
On the basic level we have already mentioned the importance of asking questions and the benefit the teacher gains from them - and we have already said that "even the small log is like the large log." There is the well known story in Bava Metzia about Rabbi Yochanan: when his study partner, student and brother-in-law Reish Lakish passed away, there was no one left to raise difficulties against his various rulings. He was frustrated and depressed, since all he received were people showing him why he was right, whereas he wanted to know where he was wrong - he needed questions. Therefore a person should make it his practice to ask his teacher substantive and difficult questions: a benefit to him and a benefit to his teacher.
An entirely different approach: "machkim" should be read as a causative form - to make wise. That is, in his own mind a person should make his teacher into a wise man, and place him, as it were, on a pedestal, so that when the teacher says something he will think: "This man is wise, he has invested his time in learning, and his intentions are good, so his words certainly carry weight." And if he does not agree with what was said and it does not sit well with him, he should not dismiss it and say, "He probably made a mistake, he is a fool." He should not assume that his teacher erred merely because the matter does not fit with his own thinking; rather he should say that most likely he did not err, and try to understand his words. This attitude toward his source of information - that his teacher is wise, that he "makes him wise" in his own mind and labels him as a wise man - will force him to take his words far more seriously, will make a deeper impression on him and will make him question his own assumptions, and as a result he will learn far better.
"Mechavein es shemu'aso":
One who straightens out and directs his learning properly and effectively. From the student's side: it is not enough to memorize and to accept things as they are. One who hears something from his teacher and receives a tradition must clarify what his teacher means and get to the depth of the matter, arrive at the underlying principles and align the details, and make sure that he is receiving exactly what was said, without adding and without subtracting, until the matter is completely precise in his mind. And from the teaching side: the one who teaches should make sure that he is teaching clearly, that he is neither adding to what he learned nor subtracting from it, and that his words go straight to the point and enter his student's heart.
"V'ha'omer davar b'sheim omro":
And this is the last of the forty-eight things: giving credit to the one to whom it is due, and connecting the learning back to the one who taught it. There is a well known principle in the Gemara in Yevamos, page 97: "Any Torah scholar in whose name a teaching is said in this world, his lips move in the grave." Every time the words of the sage who taught it are repeated, even after his passing, his lips move. Attributing a statement to the one who said it is fitting honor and proper gratitude.
Moreover: one who attributes a statement to the one who said it provides context for the source of the information, and that makes a great difference. It makes a difference whether a particular matter is a halachic authority, a Gemara, a Mishnah, Rashi, or something I heard from my teacher. Knowing the source of a statement helps one understand the context better, and therefore the matter becomes more meaningful, the learning becomes more meaningful, and a person is connected back to his source. This matter is very important: Chazal invested great effort in making sure the tradition was preserved, and therefore students were careful to repeat what they had learned from their teachers not only in their names, but exactly as they had heard it, to the best of their ability, even word for word.
The Mishnah continues and brings the law we have already learned earlier: "She'kol ha'omer davar b'sheim omro meivi ge'ulah la'olam" - anyone who gives proper attribution and credit and says a thing in the name of the one who taught it brings redemption to the world. "She'ne'emar: va'tomer Esther la'melech b'sheim Mordechai" - when Queen Esther tells Achashverosh about the plot, that Bigsan and Seresh are conspiring to assassinate the king, she says it in Mordechai's name and gives him the credit. And as events unfolded, because the king knew that this was Mordechai's doing, he ultimately elevated him, and from there came Haman's downfall and the rescue of the Jews. It emerges that this crucial turning point happened only because Esther did not say the matter in her own name, but gave the credit to Mordechai.
And the measure for measure in this: one who gives credit to another is almost as though he returned a lost object to him. Here is something that is found out of its place and out of its context, and he restores it to its context and returns it to its owner. And this is the meaning of exile: the Mishkan is not in the place where it belongs, and the Jewish people are not in the place where they belong; we are like lost objects, out of context. And the redemption, the geulah, is the restoration to context and to our proper place - whether that is the Mishkan returning to the place of the Mikdash where it belongs, or the Jewish people returning to Eretz Yisrael where they belong. Returning something that is out of place to the place where it belongs is the process of redemption, and returning the credit for a statement that is found out of its place and out of its context, and reconnecting it to its source, is the proper thing to do - and therefore its reward is measure for measure: bringing the redemption.
And with this, baruch Hashem and with siyata diShmaya, we conclude the forty-eight ways in which Torah is acquired, Avos chapter 6, mishnah 6.