Today, along with Jews all over the world, I mourn the loss of my teacher, Rabbi Aaron Panken, z”l. He was a hero among men – a scholar, an inspiration, and a real mensch. I have no words to sufficiently express my sadness at this tragic and sudden loss. The void he leaves in our lives, in our movement, and in our world will never be sufficiently filled. Every class, every interaction with Rabbi Panken was filled with kindness, wisdom, and spirit. We are all bereft.
One way we honor a teacher is to teach in their name. I had the joy to take a class with Rabbi Panken in 2015 where he shared with us his 12 favorite Talmudic texts. He taught with joy and passion, and he could make even the most perplexing and obscure texts leap off the page and into our hearts. One of the first texts he taught was from the Talmud Bavli, Chagigah 3a. In this text, the students of the Beit Midrash (the house of study) went to see their teacher, Rabbi Yehoshua, who had not been in class that day. He asked them what chiddush (a new, and novel idea) they had learned that day. They said to him, “We are YOUR students, we drink from YOUR water” (i.e. how could we teach YOU Torah, as you are the teacher and we are the students). He replied, “Even so, there can be no Beit Midrash without chiddush.”
With this text, Rabbi Panken taught us three lessons that seem particularly poignant today: He taught us that a true teacher learns from every student. He taught us that a true teacher never stops learning. And he taught us that we keep Torah alive when we bring new thoughts and new connections and our own spirit to Torah.
Aaron Panken lived these values every day. I was always awed by his interest in his students – in their lives and their ideas. I remember sitting in his office last year for my “exit interview.” He was so deeply invested in asking me about my life, about my upcoming move, and my growing family that we almost didn’t have time for anything else. But when the conversation turned to my reflections on my experience at the College-Institute (not all of them were laudatory), he was engaged, thoughtful, and respectful. He even asked me to type up my thoughts and send them to him to share with other administrators. In class and in private conversation, his boundless wisdom was balanced with his immeasurable humility, and he saw it as his religious obligation to learn from every student. He embodied a life of learning and respect.
But mostly, I will remember my teacher for that third lesson – that there can be no house of study without chiddush. Our work as learners and teachers is not only to discover old truths, but to apply them in new ways to new problems. Not novel for its own sake but novel because our Torah grows with each new connection. Our work is the work of making something innovative – adding our own voice to the conversation. I never left a conversation with Rabbi Panken without a chiddush – without something new to think about, reflect upon, or struggle with. Rabbi Panken’s legacy is a more expansive Torah, enlightened by his chiddushim, enlivened by his joy, and enriched by his spirit. We, his students, will carry his chiddushim into the world always. And we will add our own, teaching in his name and building upon his wisdom.
I feel blessed for the six years in which I got to know Rabbi Panken. I am inspired by his life guided by values and kindness, learning, and loving. My heart breaks for his wife, children, and parents. I hope they will find some comfort in knowing that we, his students, will carry his Torah forward. May they find solace and hope in the love of family and community.
Rabbi Panken, may your memory always be for a blessing. As we remember you, we declare to the world that we are your students and we drink from your water. That water will forever nourish our lives.