I Don’t Know!

You shall not turn to [the sorcery of] Ov or Yid’oni; you shall not seek [these and thereby] defile yourselves through them. I am the Lord, your Hashem. (Vayikra 19:31) 

The Yikahen Pe’er cites a story that the holy Chozeh from Lublin told his students: 

 A priest, notorious for his cunning and hostility toward the Jews, had arrived in a small village and secured the backing of the authorities to stage a public debate targeting the Jewish community. 

  

According to the decree, the Jewish community would be required to send a representative to defend the righteousness of their tradition. The stakes were cruelly high: the loser would be cast into the sea. 

  

Panic spread swiftly through the Jewish quarter. The townspeople were humble, pious individuals — artisans and laborers, not scholars or rhetoricians. There was no one among them with the confidence or learning to stand up to the priest’s sharp tongue and twisted reasoning. 

  

With no other recourse, they turned to the only strength they had ever truly relied on: prayer. They gathered in their shul (synagogue), pleading with the Almighty to intervene, to spare them from shame and destruction. Their prayers were sincere, urgent, and filled with a faith born of generations of struggle. 

  

As the day of the debate approached, a quiet search began for someone willing to stand before the priest. To everyone’s surprise, a simple tailor stepped forward. He was not known for his learning or his eloquence. He made his living sewing garments, spoke little, and lived alone. But his faith was strong, and he volunteered without hesitation. 

  

When the priest saw who had come to represent the Jews, he was visibly amused. It was clear to him that this man was unlettered, perhaps barely able to read. Confident in his impending victory, the priest generously offered the tailor the privilege of asking the first question—expecting it to be naïve at best, laughable at worst. 

  

The tailor nodded, stepped forward, and asked with quiet sincerity, “What do the words ‘Eini yodea‘ [=I don’t know] mean?” 

  

The priest, hardly concealing his smirk, responded in Polish, “Nia Viam” [=I don’t know]. 

  

The tailor turned to the assembled crowd and declared, without a trace of irony, “Then I have won. He doesn’t know the answer.” 

  

A stunned silence fell over the square — followed, almost instantly, by uproar. The priest had, by his own words, admitted his ignorance in response to the very first question. According to the terms of the debate, the victory belonged to the tailor. And, in keeping with the harsh decree the priest had orchestrated, the priest was cast into the sea. 

  

Later, someone asked the tailor how he had thought to ask such a thing. 

  

He answered simply. “I was looking through a book that translates Hebrew into Yiddish, and when I came across the phrase ‘Eini yodea‘, it was translated as ‘I don’t know.’ I thought to myself: if even the writer of the book doesn’t know what it means, how would that wicked priest know?” 

The Chozeh of Lublin said to his students that he told them this story to serve as a sign and a lasting reminder of the great power in the words “I don’t know.” When a person uses those words in response to questions of faith—because he recognizes that he doesn’t yet know everything, since he hasn’t yet learned everything—this can empower him to overcome all the tests posed by the Yetzer Harah (evil inclination) and its agents, who seek to drag him into heresy and pull him away from the path of our forefathers. 

Everyone Needs to Develop 

R’ Yisrael of Tchortkov, of blessed memory, taught that animals are born fully formed, with all their abilities and instincts that are inherent to their species. The animal soul is complete from the moment it enters the world and remains essentially the same throughout life. As Chazal said (Bava Kama 65b), “A one-day-old ox is still called an ox.” 

But man is born lacking a fully developed intellect. Only gradually does his mind develop. Hashem orchestrated this for our benefit: in order that each day a person will realize that what he understood yesterday was lacking, and therefore infer that today too, he likely does not yet grasp everything fully. 

This lesson speaks to many—especially to young people who have barely begun to learn, yet excuse their neglect of mitzvot by saying they have “questions.” As if they were the first clever minds in history to grapple with such doubts—doubts that somehow eluded the great sages and righteous individuals of generations past, who devoted their lives to Torah and mitzvah observance. 

Such people must reflect — they are not wiser than all their ancestors who served Hashem faithfully throughout the generations — even before they understood everything clearly. 

Just as a person follows a doctor’s orders without demanding to understand the science behind every prescription—trusting that medicine is complex and built on years of study—so too must one observe the mitzvot with faith in Hashem, the ultimate Healer, even if their reasons remain unclear. 

And just as a doctor may consult a specialist when unsure, there is no shame in saying “I don’t know” in Torah and emunah. One must seek guidance from those more learned, or from the sacred texts — for in truth, no question lacks an answer. 

Just as scientists uncover invisible forces like bacteria and viruses, those who delve deeply into Torah — especially the teachings of R’ Shimon bar Yochai in the holy Zohar — come to perceive the hidden forces of purity and impurity. But to see clearly, one must also distance themselves from material desires, which cloud the mind — as our ancestors and sages did before us. 

This is alluded to in our pasuk which begins by saying: “You shall not turn to [the sorcery of] Ov or Yid’oni” – do not be drawn after arrogant people who think themselves on the level of “fathers” and claim to “know” everything. 

“You shall not seek [these and thereby] defile yourselves through them” – you do not want to be defiled by their false ideologies. 

Only by distancing yourselves from them and their ways can you remain strong in your complete emunah, “I am the Lord, your Hashem”. 

*** 

The Kalever Rebbe is the seventh Rebbe of the Kaalov Chasidic dynasty, begun by his ancestor who was born to his previously childless parents after receiving a blessing from the Baal Shem Tov zy”a, and later learned under the Maggid of Mezeritch zt”l. The Rebbe has been involved in outreach for more than 30 years and writes weekly emails on understanding current issues through the Torah. Sign up at www.kaalov.org.