Was Adam HaRishon Forced Out of Yeshiva?

Rethinking the transition from kollel to career through the story of Gan Eden.

Ten years ago this week, I spent Shabbos in a certain charedi yeshiva in Yerushalayim. I vividly remember a conversation I had with one of the bochrim there. I asked him what he planned on doing when he got older, and he didn’t hesitate: "I plan on being an avreich for as long as I can. Maybe, if parnassah is really tough, I’d go and work as a rebbi or something else."

This was clearly not the approach I was raised with, so I asked him why. He explained that according to his Rabbeim, we are in a generation where we are meant to strive to return to the status of Adam HaRishon before the cheit—a completely spiritual reality.

At the time, I wasn’t sure what to make of this idea. But it certainly aligned with something I had often heard about Yeshiva: it’s like Gan Eden. Fast-forward a few years, and when it came time for me to leave "Gan Eden," I began to examine this idea more closely.

This question—what it means to leave the world of Yeshiva and enter the working world—is especially relevant during the summer months, when many transition out of Yeshiva. But more than just seasonal timing, this reflects a deeper tension in our lives between kodesh and chol, Torah and other mitzvos, youth and adulthood.

From my conversations with Shtark Tank listeners, I’ve come to see it as one of the key issues shaping our hashkafa as Bnei Torah the workforce. This will hopefully be the first in a series of posts on this issue, so let’s dive in.

Is Yeshiva Gan Eden?

One of the metaphors we often hear is that Yeshiva is like Gan Eden. At first glance, this imagery makes sense. In Yeshiva, talmidim have few responsibilities beyond sitting and learning. Three times a day, a bochur enters the chadar ochel to find a full buffet waiting. When he finishes, all he has to do is dump his plate in a pale yellow plastic tub filled with soapy water and return to the Beis Medrash.

Beyond food, there is no professional work, no children to care for, and most of the cleaning is done by others. This lifestyle certainly evokes Gan Eden. The Gemara in Sanhedrin (59b) describes Adam being served roasted meat and fine wine by a crew of angels.¹ While most people wouldn’t call the Yeshiva kitchen staff angels (though maybe they should, even if the menu differs), the pampering feels comparable.

Leaving Gan Eden

But what happens when we apply this perspective to life after Yeshiva? Does the next chapter align with the next chapter in Bereishis? Once again, the parallel seems neat. Adam sins and is expelled from Gan Eden. As part of the curse, he is told he will eat "by the sweat of his brow," earning his sustenance through pain and toil (Bereishis 3:17–19).

Likewise, the yeshiva bochur transitioning to the working world faces a harsher reality: long hours, stressful managers, demanding clients, and traffic jams during rush hour. It feels like a version of Adam’s curse.

The Problem

There’s a major issue with this comparison: it’s almost certainly inaccurate. A different pasuk tells us that Adam worked from the beginning. Even before the sin, the Torah says he was placed in the garden "to work it and to guard it" (Bereishis 2:15). While some mefarshim interpret this as spiritual labor, the plain meaning is that Adam worked.²

So what changed after the sin? One possibility is that it introduced pain into the process, not work itself. But fundamentally, labor has always been part of the human experience. The idea of full-time kollel as the original ideal state does not reflect the pshat of these pesukim.

What about the Gemara in Sanhedrin, which describes angels pampering Adam? One way to resolve this is to compare Adam to the president of the United States. The president doesn’t cook or clean—not to enjoy leisure, but so he can focus entirely on the responsibilities of leadership.

Why would Adam work if all his needs were met? The answer lies in yishuvu shel olam—the value of contributing to the world, even beyond personal necessity. Adam’s work served a purpose: to preserve and elevate the world Hashem gave him.³

Even though Adam’s sin changed the world, this fundamental idea remains. We are responsible for making the world better, and work is one of the primary arenas for that mission. That’s why the Rambam (Peirush HaMishna Sanhedrin 3:3) emphasizes two noble goals that a person can focus on: refining ourselves spiritually through Torah, and contributing to society through productive labor.

Is Work a Curse?

Even once we establish that work existed before the sin of Adam, it’s hard to ignore how deeply our experience of work seems shaped by the curse. Stress, frustration, exhaustion—does the Torah really expect a person to wake up each day, look in the mirror, and say, “Let’s go get cursed again”?

But the Torah may offer a more nuanced—and even empowering—perspective.

First, Chazal speak highly of work in many places. (See Pirkei Avos (1:8, 2:2), Berachos (8a), and many more). How do such statements align with the curse of Adam?

One approach is that the curse itself introduced a form of tikkun. In this view, the struggle of work isn’t something to avoid at all costs—it’s a spiritual necessity, a way to repair what was broken. Work becomes an imperative, not just a burden.

Another, more surprising idea is offered by the Netziv (HaEmek Davar, Bereishis 3:17). He points out that the Torah never actually says that man is cursed. Rather, it’s the earth that receives the curse. Man, he suggests, is not cursed but challenged—tasked with elevating a now-imperfect world through effort and responsibility. What seems like a curse might, in fact, be a blessing.

Conclusion

The relationship between Torah and work, and the transition from Yeshiva to the working world deserves deeper exploration, and future posts will expand on this. But for now, we’ve established four key points:

1. Thinking of the transition out of Yeshiva as being “kicked out of Gan Eden” is inaccurate.
   
   

2. Work itself is not a curse.
   
   

3. There is inherent, positive value in work—it allows us to fulfill our role in building and sustaining the world.

4. We don’t need to think of our work as being a cursed experience, it can be reframed as a tikkun and a bracha.
   
   

Rather than an exile, this transition is an invitation—to sanctify the world through our labor, to apply our values in the world, and to fulfill Adam’s original mission: to work and guard the world entrusted to us.

1. Rav Chaim Yaakov Goldwicht zt"l, the founding Rosh Yeshiva of Kerem Byavneh, quoted this idea often when describing the Yeshiva experience.

2. The Ibn Ezra and Ramban both write that this was actual work. The Targum Yonasan writes that it was spiritual work. But it is important to note that the Targum Yonasan often incorporates derush. Furthermore, this derush does not contradict the peshat. Adam could have been combining working and spirituality, just like we find in many places. And indeed the Ramban himself makes this point, that the peshat of adam working physically and the derash of working spiritually, can go together.

3. This point is made by the Torah Temima to Bereishis chapter 2 comment 37, based off the Avos D’Rebbi Nosson. The Midrash says that work is great, because Adam didn’t eat until he worked. This can only be a testament to the value of work if work has a different purpose other than personal sustenance. If he needed to work in order to have what to eat, then the passuk would just be describing a practical reality of working in order to facilitate the eating.