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Pilpul, these discussions are called—empty, nonsensical arguments over minute points of the Talmud that have no relation at all to the world.

At least the scholar had his pilpul to keep him alive.

This was almost like the pilpul my father had told me about except that it wasn’t really pilpul, they weren’t twisting the texts out of shape, they seemed more interested in b’kiut, in straightforward knowledge and simple explanations of the Talmudic passages and commentaries they were discussing.

“Because it’s pilpul,” I heard myself say.

I was suddenly a little frightened at the disparaging way I had uttered the word pilpul.