The Virtue of Admitting I Do Not Know
Zichron Avinoam | November 29, 2024
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The Virtue of Admitting I Do Not Know

Zichron Avinoam | June 27, 2025

The words of our title seem to be words that one might be ashamed to say, words that seem to represent a lack — when in Torah reality, it is quite the contrary. As Chazal teach us so evidently and clearly, in several places, saying these words is something that one should train himself to do!

As the Gemara teaches us in Berachos (4a):
דְׁאָמַר מָר: לַמֵד לְׁשוֹנְׁךָ לוֹמַר ״אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ״, שֶמָא תִּתְׁבַדֶה וְׁתֵאָחֵז,
Mar said: Accustom your tongue to say: I do not know, lest you become entangled in a web of deceit.

It is considered a noteworthy and admirable middah to say those two words אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ — I do not know. Why? To begin with, it expresses a middah of humility; furthermore, as the Gemara explains in the above example, it will prevent a person from putting himself into a situation where he might get into trouble due to his words, and perhaps it might lead him to lie in order to save himself.

Although, this second reason needs more elaboration, the first reason, and the principle itself, is something that we must study and observe.

As Tosafos in Meseches Kiddushin (30a) explains, if one is asked a pertinent sheilah regarding which one is certain of the answer, he must surely give the questioner a psak and direction, so as not to cause him to be misguided or to wait before finding his answer. And if one is teaching Torah to talmidim, he should teach them clearly what he knows. But still in all, there is something to be said for sometimes saying that one does not know.

A case in point: The Gemara (Meseches Bava Metzia 23b) teaches us that one may lie about three matters. One of those matters is whether he is knowledgeable in a certain mesechta. Rashi there explains that even if one is really fluent in that mesechta, he could lie and say that he is not: due to his humility.

Being able to say “I don’t know” to someone who looks up to you takes very great strength of character, as it certainly places one’s pride in a precarious state. But when one is able to be truthful, and be humble, those traits bring the greatness of the person to a whole new dimension and accord his Torah knowledge the greatest of approbations.

But what does all of this have to do with our parashah? My esteemed chavrusa, Rav Yehuda Tzvi Kurzrock shlita, explained a most fascinating Rashi with the great principle above.

The Torah teaches us (Parashas Toldos 28:5):
וַיִּשְׁלַַ֤ח יִּצְׁחָק֙ אֶֶֽת־יַעֲק ֹ֔ב וַיֵֵּ֖לֶךְ פַדֶֶּ֣נֶָֽה אֲרָָ֑ם אֶל־לָבַָ֤ן בֶן־בְׁתוּאֵל֙ הֶָֽאֲרַמִֹּ֔י אֲחִֶּּ֣י רִּ בְׁקָֹ֔ה אֵֵ֥ם יַעֲק ֵּ֖ב וְׁעֵשֶָֽ ו — And Yitzchak sent Yaakov, and he went to Padan Aram to Lavan, the son of Besuel the Aramite, the brother of Rivkah, the mother of Yaakov and Esav.

Upon these very last words of the pasuk, which tell us exactly who Rivka was, Rashi comments: אֵינִי יוֹדֵע ַ מַה מְׁלַמְׁדֵנוּ, I do not know what this is teaching us.

Explained Rav Kurzrock: Why did Rashi even feel the need to comment at all? Furthermore, Rabbi Akiva Eiger has counted how many times Rashi says these words, אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ , in Shas. Why did the holy Rabbi Akiva Eiger feel it so important to reveal to us how many times Rashi said that he does not know? Is that not possibly embarrassing, chas veshalom, for Rashi? The answer is not at all! It is actually the most admirable thing possible!!

That the greatest teacher of Torah, who changed the face of our nation for all of history, who taught and continues to teach us from a knowledge that we cannot fathom with our little brains, is not afraid to say, in his supreme humility, those profound two words, אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ is staggering indeed.... B’Siyata DiShmaya.

The words of our title seem to be words that one might be ashamed to say, words that seem to represent a lack — when in Torah reality, it is quite the contrary. As Chazal teach us so evidently and clearly, in several places, saying these words is something that one should train himself to do!

As the Gemara teaches us in Berachos (4a):
דְׁאָמַר מָר: לַמֵד לְׁשוֹנְׁךָ לוֹמַר ״אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ״, שֶמָא תִּתְׁבַדֶה וְׁתֵאָחֵז,
Mar said: Accustom your tongue to say: I do not know, lest you become entangled in a web of deceit.

It is considered a noteworthy and admirable middah to say those two words אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ — I do not know. Why? To begin with, it expresses a middah of humility; furthermore, as the Gemara explains in the above example, it will prevent a person from putting himself into a situation where he might get into trouble due to his words, and perhaps it might lead him to lie in order to save himself.

Although, this second reason needs more elaboration, the first reason, and the principle itself, is something that we must study and observe.

As Tosafos in Meseches Kiddushin (30a) explains, if one is asked a pertinent sheilah regarding which one is certain of the answer, he must surely give the questioner a psak and direction, so as not to cause him to be misguided or to wait before finding his answer. And if one is teaching Torah to talmidim, he should teach them clearly what he knows. But still in all, there is something to be said for sometimes saying that one does not know.

A case in point: The Gemara (Meseches Bava Metzia 23b) teaches us that one may lie about three matters. One of those matters is whether he is knowledgeable in a certain mesechta. Rashi there explains that even if one is really fluent in that mesechta, he could lie and say that he is not: due to his humility.

Being able to say “I don’t know” to someone who looks up to you takes very great strength of character, as it certainly places one’s pride in a precarious state. But when one is able to be truthful, and be humble, those traits bring the greatness of the person to a whole new dimension and accord his Torah knowledge the greatest of approbations.

But what does all of this have to do with our parashah? My esteemed chavrusa, Rav Yehuda Tzvi Kurzrock shlita, explained a most fascinating Rashi with the great principle above.

The Torah teaches us (Parashas Toldos 28:5):
וַיִּשְׁלַַ֤ח יִּצְׁחָק֙ אֶֶֽת־יַעֲק ֹ֔ב וַיֵֵּ֖לֶךְ פַדֶֶּ֣נֶָֽה אֲרָָ֑ם אֶל־לָבַָ֤ן בֶן־בְׁתוּאֵל֙ הֶָֽאֲרַמִֹּ֔י אֲחִֶּּ֣י רִּ בְׁקָֹ֔ה אֵֵ֥ם יַעֲק ֵּ֖ב וְׁעֵשֶָֽ ו — And Yitzchak sent Yaakov, and he went to Padan Aram to Lavan, the son of Besuel the Aramite, the brother of Rivkah, the mother of Yaakov and Esav.

Upon these very last words of the pasuk, which tell us exactly who Rivka was, Rashi comments: אֵינִי יוֹדֵע ַ מַה מְׁלַמְׁדֵנוּ, I do not know what this is teaching us.

Explained Rav Kurzrock: Why did Rashi even feel the need to comment at all? Furthermore, Rabbi Akiva Eiger has counted how many times Rashi says these words, אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ , in Shas. Why did the holy Rabbi Akiva Eiger feel it so important to reveal to us how many times Rashi said that he does not know? Is that not possibly embarrassing, chas veshalom, for Rashi? The answer is not at all! It is actually the most admirable thing possible!!

That the greatest teacher of Torah, who changed the face of our nation for all of history, who taught and continues to teach us from a knowledge that we cannot fathom with our little brains, is not afraid to say, in his supreme humility, those profound two words, אֵינִּי יוֹדֵעַ is staggering indeed.... B’Siyata DiShmaya.

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