By Betzy Lynch in La Jolla, California
She pushed her way through the double doors of the preschool, her small hand gently grasping her mother’s. Her pigtails were slightly off-kilter, wisps of hair falling into her face, evidence of a day well played. The hallway beyond was busy, people rushing past in every direction, yet she seemed to move in slow motion. With a subtle turn of her torso, she set her dress twirling, delighting in the simple magic of her own movement.
As they approached the next set of double doors, her eyes narrowed, as if she were peering into bright light. At first it seemed she was squinting to keep the light out, but it soon became clear she was trying to contain something else entirely, her disbelief at what lay ahead.
With the poise of a tiny dancer, she released her mother’s hand and stepped into the art gallery, her movements filled with grace and ease. She quickened her pace, drawn toward the artwork, and her mother’s voice followed, just loud enough to be heard: “Please don’t get too close. The artwork is to be seen with our eyes, not touched with our hands.”
She stopped at a careful distance and gazed into the eyes of the woman in the painting. Time seemed to pause. She shook her head, as if breaking a spell, and drifted toward the next image. Again, a woman’s face. She stepped backward now, trying to take in three or four pieces at once. You could almost see the questions forming: How do these belong together? Do they at all?
Slowly, she found herself pulled back toward the first piece, the one that had drawn her in from the start. As she edged closer, her mother’s gentle reminder returned, grounding her in the awareness that this moment was unfolding both in the world around her and in the world within her. Her eyes widened as wide as a three-year-old’s eyes can go, and then she asked, softly but with urgency, “Mommy, what is the lady feeling?”
Her mother smiled, a smile practiced through years of answering endless questions, yet her response carried the wisdom of our sages: “What do you feel when you look at her?”
When was the last time you opened your eyes as wide as a three-year-old, filled with wonder at the world?
When was the last time you paused long enough to notice that what you imagine someone to be feeling may not be what they are feeling at all?
When was the last time you let your mind wander longer than it took to reach for your phone and search for an answer to a question you barely allowed yourself to hold?
Judaism calls this posture hitlamdut, curiosity in action, curiosity without judgment. In Pirkei Avot 5:22, our sages teach: “Turn it over and over, for everything is in it.” This wisdom invites us back to the same inspiration again and again, not to arrive at conclusions, but to remain open. Learning here is not about right answers; it is about staying with the questions.
Hitlamdut asks us to return with fresh eyes, without shame, without a final verdict. The sages understood that learning thrives when judgment for others and for ourselves is suspended, when we question not only what is before us, but what stirs within us as well.
As Shabbat fades and the new week begins, perhaps we can take this invitation with us: to approach a deeply held belief with renewed curiosity, not to strengthen our certainty, but to loosen our grip on being right, and to stay, just a little longer, with our questions.
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Betzy Lynch is the Chief Executive Officer of the Lawrence Family JCC.