A barber tells his customer: Here comes the dumbest kid in the world. The barber holds out both his hands, palms open. In one hand he shows a dollar, and in the other hand two quarters. He allows the boy to choose, and the boy selects the two quarters. The boy exits the barbershop, 50¢ in hand, to the sound of the barber’s laughter.

Later that day, the customer sees the boy and asks why he doesn’t just take the dollar. The boy replies: The day I take the dollar is the day the game is over!”

Who’s outsmarting whom? To put it another way, there is a difference between knowing and understanding.

In my efforts to become a better teacher, and consequently a better rabbi and human being, I was led to a classic of the education world, called Understanding by Design, by Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe. A key component to teaching is just as I stated—to make a distinction between knowledge and understanding.

Put in the simplest terms—knowledge is facts; understanding is the real meaning of the facts. I might know something to be true, but do I understand why it is true and what is the impact of that truth.

So, the boy knows that a dollar has twice the value of 50 cents. But he understands that it really doesn’t.

There are many who watch a baseball game and know that the team with more runs is currently winning. By the way, this is not self evident to everyone, so congratulate yourselves if you know even that much.

But there are others who know the complexities of the game; who understand when and why a team might attempt a steal, a sacrifice, a hit and run, a pitchout, etc. What’s important to remember is that understanding begins with basic knowledge.

Students learn math skills—they must to survive in this world. Ask a middle school student to divide 100 by 30, and he/she will quickly tell you that the answer is 3, remainder 10. On an exam, asking students how many buses are needed to transport 100 people, if a bus has a maximum capacity of 30, a significant number gave the answer, 3 buses, remainder 10, when the answer (it is obvious, I hope) is 4 buses. When I showed this problem to a very bright high school senior, he said with a smile, “Take just 3 buses, and kick 10 people off the trip.”

In addition to its clear implications to every aspect of life, I was drawn to the distinction between knowledge and understanding for another reason—these terms already appear, side by side, in Judaism.

In the daily Amidah, we recite 18 times a week, 3 times on each of the 6 weekdays, atah chonen l’adam da’at, umelamed le’enosh binah—God, grant to the human being both knowledge and understanding. In the book of Exodus, when God informs Moshe that Betzalel is going to be the chief artisan of the Tabernacle, God further tells Moshe that Betzalel has been endowed with both knowledge and, you guessed it, understanding.

Rashi, the great 11th century commentator, explains that “knowledge” is what you know because someone told you, and you remember. “Understanding” is what you figured out on your own, based on your previous knowledge.

As Saturday Night Live just opened its 35th season, many of us old timers still remember the glory days of the 70’s. There was a character named Father Guido Sarducci, played by actor Don Novello, with a comical Italian accent. Anyway, one of Father Guido Sarducci’s sketches was what he called, The Five Minute University.

He explained that he would teach you, in five minutes, the equivalent of a four year college degree. For example, if you take Spanish, all you need to know is "¿Como está usted?" which means, "how are you", and the answer "muy bien," which means "very well." Father Sarducci explains that if you take four years of college Spanish, years later all you will remember anyway is "¿Como está usted?" and "muy bien.”

Similarly, he would teach you in five minutes, the following subjects—Economics: Supply and Demand; Business: Buy low, sell high; and even theology: Where is God?, God is Everywhere.

You get the point. And you also realize that we sometimes rob ourselves when we aim for knowledge as a final goal, rather than work hard to achieve understanding.

First of all we do need to begin with basic knowledge, or we will never be able to understand anything. Far too many in our community aren’t even at that level.

It is therefore imperative upon all of us to be able to read Hebrew phonetically, to acquire basic ritual skills, and to be able to participate in the most standard of prayers at the synagogue and at home.

But of course, that is not enough.

How many Bar/Bat Mitzvah students have chanted from the Torah from this and other bimahs, but did not successfully achieve an understanding of how and why to return to the bimah to do it again?

How many of us read frequently, if not daily, in the siddur, words which describe God’s existence, yet we are unable, unsure or unwilling to truly seek God’s presence in our lives?

When I was a young boy, I was impressed to watch my great uncle Abe daven without a siddur. He told me he knew all the words by heart. Now I wonder, was he speaking to God, or merely mimicking the words he heard from a teacher or parent years ago?

When a couple goes on their first date, what do they talk about? Where did you grow up, what are the names of your family members, what is/was your major in college, do you rent or own, etc. If they are truly going to succeed in a relationship, then knowledge of facts will certainly advance to a deep understanding of one another, a true melding of their neshamot. They will know each other’s hopes, dreams and fears.

The talmud’s usual answer to the question, “Who is wise?,” is “One who learns from everyone.” But in one place in the Talmud, Tamid 32a, the answer is different and somewhat surprising. “Who is wise?”—“One who can foresee that which has not yet occurred.”

Education, in its richest sense, should lead one to be anticipating the future, to have a goal in mind when learning a new subject. God tells Avram—lekh lekha—I’ve got something to teach you. But God does so, by also making the endpoint clear—you’re not just leaving, you have a destination at which to arrive.

On Kol Nidre night, we seek not only a reunion and reconciliation with God, but also to set up the appointment for next year, to chart out a course for new discovery.

A comic named Wendell Potter complained that his wife was pushing him to exercise more than he wished. She said, “Let’s take a walk around the block.” He replied, “Why do that? We’re already here!”

Life is a journey. The gaining of knowledge and understanding is a journey. Even if we end up in the same location in the physical sense, it is our duty to take the journey, and use it to gain a deeper insight into ourselves and the world around us.

One final thought—the last words we say when we wrap the tefillin around our fingers--v’yada’at et Adonai. First we learn the ritual. Then we need to make the practice of the ritual a part of our daily lives. But ultimately, we learn and we do, in order to chart out a course, a long term journey for ourselves, whose ultimate destination is a deep understanding of who God is. Good luck on your own path to knowledge, understanding and meaning in your life.