Light as an eagle? Surely not

Avot 5:23 reads as follows: 

Yehudah ben Tema says: “Be as bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer and strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in Heaven”.

What's the relevance of the eagle? 

Seven species of eagle are found in Israel today and it is probable that not only the Tannaim but also anyone who kept the sheep, goats or poultry on which they feed would have been highly familiar with them.  However, the simile here is puzzling. “Be light as an eagle” has an almost poetical quality to it, but something is wrong. Eagles are amongst the very heaviest birds that fly; by avian standards they are anything but light. One may as well say “Be light as a hippopotamus”. What, then, is our Tanna trying to tell us?

Fortunately there is a plausible explanation, though not one that is obvious to modern thinkers because it requires getting into the mindset of Sages and philosophers in the era of the Tannaim, some two millennia back. 

Imagine a world that is composed of four elements: earth, air (or wind), fire and water.  Not just the planet Earth but everything in it is comprised of anything between one and four of these elements which, combined in different proportions, have different characteristics. Thus, for example, a tomato has a higher ratio of water to earth while a potato is quite the opposite. A chilli pepper has a higher ratio of fire to air, while a meringue has a higher ratio of air to fire, and so on.  Man is also composed of these four elements. All humans differ in their composition and that explains their character: some are fiery, others sanguine; some live on a lofty spiritual plain while others appear to have no aspirations that rise above the fulfilment of their basic bodily functions.

Taking these four elements further, it is accepted that all the problems faced by mankind are caused by an imbalance between them. Fire leads to anger and arrogance; air leads to vacuity and idle chatter; water leads to wealth, jealousy, pleasures of the flesh and to indulgence in the material world; earth, the heaviest element of all, leads to depression, indolence and hopelessness. The very largest and heaviest birds—for example the ostrich, the emu and the cassowary—do not fly. They are literally earthbound. Of birds that fly, the eagle with its heavy body has to make a far greater effort than do smaller birds to overcome the pull of its own “earthiness” in order to generate flight.

Returning to our metaphor, we are told to be “light as the eagle”. Just as the eagle has to make so great an effort to overcome its “earthiness”, so too should we make a great effort, when doing God’s will, of overcoming our own “earthiness” and the feelings of depression, indolence and hopelessness that accompany it.

Finally, while it is possible that this four-element theory, despite its apparently non-Jewish origin, would have been known to a Torah scholar, it is also possible that it actually originates from a Jewish source. An anonymous author on the Daat Emet website writes:

… Josephus (who lived in the first century CE and was commander of the Galilean forces during the Great Revolt — History of the wars of the Jews and the Romans, book 5, chapter 5:4) explains why the covering which divided the sanctuary from the Holy of Holies in the Temple was made of four threads of color: blue, purple, scarlet, and white. He claimed that the four colors represented the four elements in order to show a model of the world. Blue, the color of the skies, represents air, scarlet represents fire, purple is produced from a mollusk and represents the water from which it came, and white linen comes from the earth and represents it.

Where are the Geonim?

 Flicking through the pages of Rav Sa'adya Gaon's Sefer Emunot veDe'ot the other day, I started to pay attention to the sources he cites in this fascinating philosophical work. I noticed that he drew extensively on Tehillim (Psalms), the Prophets and the Book of Job. However, there were very few references to earlier rabbinical teachings. Some Talmudical tractates were cited, but I spotted no citations from Pirkei Avot. Considering that Rav Sa'adya's work deals with ethical matters and topics such as reward and punishment which are central to Avot, this surprised me greatly.

It then occurred to me that, in all the decades in which I have been pursuing my interest in Avot, I can hardly recall reading anything by or making reference to the scholarship of the Gaonic period (589 to 1038 CE). It would be surprising if no Jewish scholars had anything to say on this most popular and accessible of mishnaic topics for some four and a half centuries. 

If any reader can point me to anything I may have missed, I should be grateful. Likewise, if there is an explanation for this apparent dearth of commentaries, please tell me.

Angry -- but with whom?

Mishnah 5:14 of Pirkei Avot talks of people being classified into four types of temperament:

(i)  The person who is easily angered but easily placated—his reward is offset by his loss. 

(ii) The person whom it is hard to anger but hard to placate—his loss is offset by his reward.

(iii)  The person whom it is hard to anger but easy to placate is a chassid, a pious person.

(iv)  The person whom it is easy to anger but hard to placate is wicked.

The Mishnah is usually assumed to be referring to a person who gets angry with other people. The plain text does not demand that this be so. Sometimes a person gets angry with God, and sometimes with himself. Does this Mishnah apply equally to these scenarios? 

In principle there is no reason why it should not. If anger is a corrosive and damaging emotion, it will adversely affect the well-being of the person who feels it regardless of the cause of that anger.  However, there is a difference. However much anyone rages against God, there is absolutely no way that this anger, or the person who feels it, can do to hurt or harm Him. When angry with oneself, any damage done is counterproductive since the object and the subject of the rage are one and the time. It is only when anger is directed against fellow humans that it can lead to the sort of destructive and vengeful action that can undermine the social basis of human civilization.

Loud and clear! The importance of speaking properly

Of all the 48 items relating to acquisition of the Torah in Avot 6:6, articulate speech is that which by its nature lies closest the heart of the transmission of the Torah sheb’al peh, the Oral Torah, in that the word “oral” demands speech.  Even though the writing down of the Oral Law and the subsequent invention of the printing press appeared to relegate the spoken word to a position of relative unimportance, the astonishing speed at which communication technologies have developed from the late 20th century onwards has placed the spoken word front and centre in the promulgation of Torah to a wider audience. The list of roles for the spoken word is impressive: at one end of the scale are modest activities such as learning by telephone and the production of recorded shiurim. At the other end is an ever-growing volume of online interactive and set-piece lectures via Zoom and Skype, classes and discussion groups, video productions that can be streamed or downloaded and podcasts. The spoken word has dramatically re-established its position in Torah learning, and demand for it has skyrocketed during the Covid-19 pandemic since many people are unable to access traditional printed books and other printed texts.

There are many dimensions to articulate speech which combine to assist a serious student navigate the path towards becoming a Torah scholar, as we have already learned.  These include the following Ten Commandments: 

(i) think about what you are going to say before you open your mouth so that your words will be the right ones,  

(ii) choose the right words with which to express what you mean, 

(iii) know when to stop speaking, 

(iv) make yourself audible, 

(v) clearly articulate consonants and vowels so that the listener will be able to recognize the spoken word, 

(vi) take the trouble to pronounce words correctly so that they will not be misunderstood or mistaken for other words, 

(vii) speak at a speed at which a listener can comprehend what is being said, 

(viii) repeat yourself only when it is necessary to do so, (ix) refrain from speaking any word if you are unsure of its meaning, and 

(x) if necessary, prepare and rehearse the words you intend to speak, so as to say them with meaning and feeling, thus maximizing their impact.

Unless a person suffers from a physical or psychological defect that cannot be remedied with the aid of a suitably qualified speech therapist, there is no excuse for failing to observe these rules. Contrary to the opinion of some people I have encountered, it is neither frum nor a sign of one’s humility to mumble when talking to others or giving a shiur. It is an acute discourtesy. Another egregious form of discourtesy is speaking to another person or to an audience in a language that you know they do not understand, when you are perfectly capable of speaking to them in a language you share with them.

Anyone who studies Torah and takes the correct articulation of his words seriously is set to receive many benefits. For example: (i) saying words aloud makes them easier to recall than merely scanning them with one’s eyes;  (ii) words misspoken can be helpfully corrected by one’s teacher or chavruta; (iii) by repeating his words enough times, a person can quote them both accurately  and fluently;  (iv) one’s learning can be more effectively internalized and understood.

Mazikim pt 2: Refusal to admit responsibility for what happens in one's life

In the fifth perek of Avot (at 5:8) we learn of 10 things that were created at dusk on the eve of Shabbat and of a further four things that some people would add to this list. One of those things is "mazikim", evil and destructive demons. Some people believe that mazikim exist; others that they do not. 

Should the existence or non-existence of mazikim concern us? I think not. If they exist, it is axiomatic that God created them and that, since only man has free will, whatever mazikim do is mandated by God.  Furthermore, since God is the only authentic source of power that a Jew must acknowledge, it is absolutely wrong to treat mazikim as if they held any power in their own right, and therefore wrong to seek to propitiate them. If however they do not exist, then it is we who have created them in our minds. If we have done so, it is our own minds that we must turn in order to address their functional (or dysfunctional) utility within the World we inhabit and which God created.

 I believe the real question we face is not that of whether mazikim exist.  The real question is what we can learn from the undeniable fact that the author of this mishnah teaches us that there are those who say that they were created on the eve of the World’s first Sabbath.

 An argument can be made out that the inclusion of mazikim on this list is because it has a positive aspect, in common with the other 13. The argument runs as follows.  The idea behind the mazikim of our mishnah is that something adverse happens to an individual. That person has, at that moment, a choice. One option is to link that adverse consequence to his own conduct. This can be done in many ways and on different levels. For example he can accept that he was negligent (e.g. the car rolled down the hill because he didn’t check if the brake was on) or inadvertent (e.g. he switched the kettle on, forgetting that he already emptied it). On another level he can view the adverse consequence as a sort of retribution (e.g. why did he drop the bottle of Scotch in the street? Because he should have spent the money instead on a charity donation he was asked to give) or caution (e.g. he walked into an old lady while checking his phone and knocked her over, this being a warning to be more careful next time he goes out).

 What does all of this have to do with mazikim? In short, the idea that underwrites the usefulness of the mazik is that a person’s misfortune is unrelated to his own behavior: it is always the fault of others.  Let us return back to the examples above.  Why did the car roll down the hill? Because a mazik released the handbrake. Why did the kettle boil dry? Just his luck that a mazik must have distracted him.  If however a person is prepared to take responsibility for his actions, he recognizes that he is the mazik. Why did that bottle of Scotch fall from my hands? Maybe it was a lesson—annoying and expensive but at least it was painless—that I should think again about putting my own selfish interests ahead of the needs of others. Why did I knock that poor little old lady over? Because I was so preoccupied with my own affairs that I forgot I was sharing the sidewalk with my fellow humans. So, to summarize, "mazikim" is a sort of shorthand term for the potential of mankind to accept or reject responsibility for its own damaging actions.

 The significance of mazikim in this mishnah is that this concept was created just before Shabbat of the World’s first week.  The Torah is not a history book, but it does tell us in some detail about one event: the Fall of Man.  Our thoughts concerning the story of Adam and Eve tend to dwell on the sadly lost opportunity to do the one thing God asked: not to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. This mishnah however addresses another part of the story: the abrogation of responsibility on the part of both Adam and Eve. Adam’s position regarding their wrongful acts. Adam states that it was not his fault: it was Eve who gave him the fruit. Eve states that it was not her fault: the serpent told her to eat it. Here, with Shabbat coming in for the first time in Jewish history, we see the potential for accepting or denying responsibility for a person’s own damaging actions being actualized.

Getting a grip on tongs made with tongs

One of the most memorable bits of Avot is the statement (Avot 5:8) that one of the things that was created at close of play on the Sixth Day of Creation was "tongs made with tongs". This has generated discussion over the centuries as to whether you can make metal tongs if you don't already have tongs. Here's a thought on this subject.

The thing that grabs people about this mishnah is the problem that metal tongs are made by heating strips of metal to the point at which they become malleable so that they can be shaped into its component parts—but, without a pair of tongs to hold the red-hot metal, tongs cannot be made. Traditional rabbinical commentators tend to be divided between (i) those who explain what tongs are but say nothing of their significance;  (ii) those who say that, if tongs can only be made if you already have tongs, the first tongs must have been made by God,  (iii) those who say that tongs can actually be made by pouring molten metal into moulds, and (iv) those for whom the real issue is the actual time when the tongs were created.

So we remain stuck with a question: what is our takeaway message from this mishnaic reference to tongs? In the 21st century most of us do not have much connection with metallurgy on a daily basis, or indeed at all. It is possible that not one in a thousand contemporary Torah students will have seen a blacksmith using tongs to hold a metal bar that would otherwise burn a man’s hand (they might have seen sugar tongs, but these genteel items did not exist in Tannaic times). So why should we even care?

If we look beyond the tongs, we see a bigger, wider message: that we should always recognize God’s contribution to our own inventiveness for it is He who created in us the potential to innovate. To put it another way, whatever we invent today is a consequence of God’s original creation of mankind’s ability to do so.  We might consider ourselves to be creators on a par with God, but all we have done is to graft our own effort on to the inventive potential that God Himself instilled in us, late on the first Sabbath eve, knowing that we would need to actualize it as soon as Shabbat ended, when Adam and Eve, expelled from the Garden of Eden, had to make their own way in the World.

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This sensible and practical explanation of the tongs issue can be found in Rabbi Menachem Mordechai Frankel-Teomim's Be'er Ha'Avot. This work appears to have been privately published and must have been purchased by someone since it ran to at least three editions (the third being published in Jerusalem in 1978). The bigger question is whether anyone has ever read it, since I have never before seen it discussed or referred to in any subsequent commentaries on Avot and a Google search does not reveal its existence.

Praying for the health of an ailing opponent

Posted on the Jewish Telegraphic Agency site is a feature, "Should Jews pray for Trump’s health? Are they required to?" by Laura E. Adkins. Some rabbis were asked to respond. From Rabbi David Wolpe (Sinai Temple, Los Angeles) came the following: 

“Judaism teaches we should pray for the sick, not for the sick whom we like, and I am mindful of Pirkei Avot 4:19 [4:24 in many versions], not to rejoice in the downfall of one’s enemies. I appreciate the savagery of the political divide, but I hope no matter who is suffering with this dangerous disease, we can pray both that they will heal and also that they will learn from the experience, and grow more open-hearted and compassionate, as we hope for all of us in any trial or tragedy.”

I thought this a magnanimous and positive application of Avot. 

Avot and leadership: practical applications for ancient advice

I am always pleased so see people taking the ancient sayings in Pirkei Avot and applying them to our current lives and lifestyles. That's why I was happy to read Randi Braun's post in the Jewish Journal, "What Does Leading With Heart Look Like in Modern Life?" This piece looks at Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai's question to his five top talmidim (Avot 2:13): "what is the good path that a person should stick to?", together with their various answers. Rather than just discuss the "winning" answer, the author considers the virtues of all five within the context of leadership and making an impact on others. 

How much work, and what sort of work, is an aspiring Torah scholar supposed to reduce?

 

In Avot 6:6 we find a list of 48 means of "acquiring Torah".  One of these is miyut sechorah (reducing the amount of business one conducts); another arguably involves some disengagement from money-earning: this is miyut derech eretz (reducing one's work, on the assumption that derech eretz here means that and not one of its other meanings: worldly activities and sexual intercourse). 

Rabbi Yaakov Emden observes in his Lechem Shamayim that there is another word for income-generating work, melachah, and that there is no corresponding requirement to reduce that. 

It is not clear to me exactly what the difference is between derech eretz and melachah in this context. Does any reader have any idea? Has anyone written on this? Please get in touch if you know.

Mitzvot and good deeds: don't forget your underwear

We learn in Avot (2:1) of the importance of treating mitzvot alike on the basis that we do not know which commandments are important to God and which are less so -- if indeed the relative importance of any mitzvah is a valid concept at all. 

An allusion to this principle appears in the Ma'amar HaKavod of Rabbi Eliezer Papo (better known for his classic mussar work, Pele Yo'etz). He compares mitzvot and good deeds to one's clothes. To paraphrase his message, when we get dressed we take particular care over our outer garments -- but we are not properly dressed if we should neglect to put on our underwear first. We should remember that there is more to us than our mere external appearance and that many things that may seem trite or trivial are actually just as important, whether we regard them as such or not.

Lulav and lockdown: a positive perspective

Today's Jerusalem Post features an opinion piece by Dov Lipman with the cheery title "Time to rejoice on Sukkot, despite coronavirus". In it he writes: 

While it’s human nature to focus on what we don’t have and what we wished we had, that attention becomes a constant source of frustration and sadness. As our tradition teaches: “Who is wealthy? One who is happy with his portion.” (Ethics of the Fathers 4:1). The ritual waving of the four species reminds us to be thankful for whatever we do have, a lesson we must take to heart during this corona crisis. Learning to do so can bring great happiness into one’s life, no matter what one possesses or does not.

Being thankful for whatever we have is actually easier for those of us who will be spending the days of Sukkot waving our lulavs quietly at home instead of enjoying the hustle and bustle of a crowded synagogue. Why is this? Because it is only human nature to look at other people's lulavim and compare them with our own. Some folk have bigger ones, others have a better shape. Their etrogim have a better shape or colour, their arovot have not withered and turned brown, and so on.  This year, for many of us there will be no visual trigger for feelings of envy or inadequacy, so we have a better chance of being contented with our own.

Avot in Retrospect: a summary of last month's blogposts

In case you missed them, here's a list of items posted on Avot Today in September 2020:

Tuesday 29 September 2020: Crowns in Avot: Putting the Record Straight.  Putting the record straight regarding the mishnah about there being three crowns, surmounted by the crown of a good name.

Sunday 27 September 2020: Text and Tradition: their place in 'Acquisition of the Torah'. Why does the list of 48 ways of acquiring the Torah contain some things that seem too obvious to mention?

Tuesday 22 September 2020: Can we really be altruistic when we know there's a reward coming up?  A reflection on learning Torah for its own sake -- can it really be done?

Thursday 17 September 2020: Judging others: a practical exercise. Thoughts on encountering a respected rabbi in the street without his Covid mask.

Wednesday 16 September 2020: Nice things for the righteous -- a privilege or a responsibility? The baraita at 6:8 lists all sorts of lovely things in store for tzaddikim. These may however be less lovely than one first imagines.

Monday 14 September 2020: "According to the effort ..." -- a word about mitzvot and their rewards:  Avot 5:23 correlates the fulfilment of commandments with the input involved in keeping them. Is this always fair?

Sunday 13 September 2020: A special message for Rosh Hashanah -- there is no special message. The standards set by Pirkei Avot for one's personal behaviour do not depend on the time of year.

Thursday 10 September 2020: The folly of fools -- in search of Avot with an extra verse. Readers' assistance is sought in tracking down an edition of Avot that features an extra verse from Proverbs that is not usually cited.

Wednesday 9 September  2020: Beyond comprehension. Hillel teaches that one should not say something that can't be understood if it is meant to be comprehended. Where does this leave the ever-changing and puzzlingly complex regulations for dealing with Covid-19?

Thursday 3 September 2020: Things and people, honour and glory. Has a verse from Isaiah, cited in Avot 6:11, been routinely mistranslated?  

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Avot Today blogposts for August 2020 here

Avot Today blogposts for July 2020 here

Avot Today blogposts for June 2020 here
Avot Today blogposts for May 2020 here