Having a care for another's prayer

 One of the less-discussed provisions of Pirkei Avot is the first of Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel's three teachings at Avot 2:18:

Be careful in recitation of the Shema and tefillah (prayer).

The three paragraphs of the Shema are a fundamental element of Jewish belief. Among other things, they affirm the existence and the unity of God, the principle of rewarding adherence to His commandments and punishing disobedience to them and His instrumental role in bringing the Jewish people out of Egypt so that He could be their God. As for tefillah, this word is the mishnaic shorthand for the standard template of the morning, afternoon and evening prayers.

What does this teaching actually teach?

Why should Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel take the trouble to teach us to take care over these recitations, given their universally acknowledged importance in the Jewish world? And what use is this teaching if it tells us to be careful but doesn't tell us how? Is it not a bit like telling someone to be careful how they cross the road -- something we should all do and which is so obvious -- but without giving any hints or guidance as to how best to do this?

Many commentators struggle to find anything exciting to say about this part of the mishnah. Indeed the Rambam, Alshich, Chida and Rabbi Chaim Volozhin are among those who say nothing at all.

The Meiri and the Maharal take it as an introduction to the second teaching in this mishnah, that one's tefillah should not be recited by rote but should be said with passion and feeling. The Rashba, Sforno and Rabbi S. R. Hirsch read it as a wake-up call, to remind us of God's greatness, thereby enhancing feelings of gratitude and fear of sin.

The Bartenura, the commentary ascribed to Rashi and the Anaf Yosef take it to mean that these two recitations should be made at the right time for doing so. According to the Me'am Lo'ez, this means ringfencing one's time for these recitations so that not even one's Torah studies will encroach upon them.

Still on the theme of time, some rabbis had a slightly different text before them, as Tosafot Yom Tov observes. Rabbenu Yona's text stated that one should be more careful when reciting the Shema, since the window of time for its optimal recitation is shorter than that for tefillah.

A novel explanation

Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel's words are susceptible of a wider interpretation. This is because, while they urge us to take care in the recitation of the Shema and tefillah, they do not specify whose Shema and tefillah they mean. They need not be limited to one's own devotion. What does this mean?

Two days ago, while I was reciting my own Shema in a local synagogue, a charity collector was working his way round the congregation to solicit funds. His stated aim (which will itself be the subject of a later post) was laudable: he was soliciting funds for the relief of Ukrainian refugees who are currently pouring into Israel (by mid-March the figure had topped 12,000, of whom the majority are not Jews). The collector's enthusiasm was so great that he pushed a printed notice bearing details of his cause right into my face and brought my recitation to a halt. Had he noticed that I, together with the rest of the congregation, was reciting the Shema, he might have held off for a few moments until we had finished. As it was, my normally adequate focus on the Shema was lost; I had involuntarily replaced it with a review of Avot 1:6 and the need to judge other people in accordance with their merits.

So much for taking care of other people's Shema. The need to take care of other people's tefillah is far more frequently relevant. Anyone who prays in a synagogue these days will know how often one's silent prayer is punctuated by the sound of ringtones of phones left unmuted by their owners, by the impatient drumming of fingers against the furniture by those who, having finished their own prayers quickly, are impatient to progress to the next part of the service, and by congregants who imagine that, if they drift to the back of the prayer hall, their conversations cannot be heard by those at the front.

Within the literature of our sages I have yet to find any support for such a wide application of Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel's words. I do however take comfort from the fact that neither have I found anything to challenge it. In the meantime, if anyone has found a sure way of being able to retain their focus on their tefillah when their thoughts must compete with the stirring sound of a bugle call from a nearby smartphone, can they please let me know.

Finding the perfect match

My mind keeps returning to a brief conversation I had with a young man a couple of weeks ago. He mentioned to me that he was hoping to get married so I asked him if he had a particular young lady in mind. No, he replied. I asked him what steps he had taken so far towards finding himself a wife. He told me that he had asked for, and received, a blessing from his rabbi. Apparently he wasn't about to take any further steps towards matrimony. Having received his blessing, he was awaiting the appearance of the woman who would fulfil it and be his "intended".

Sadly, the circumstances of our brief meeting did not permit me to question him further. I wanted to know if he seriously expected a wife to drop out of the sky and into his lap, as it were, without exerting himself in any way. I was also curious to ask whether a wife, in his opinion, was an acquisition, or a working partner in a relationship of mutual love and respect. There were other questions, too many to list here.

I now find myself wondering what aspects of Pirkei Avot might be brought to bear in analysing this young man's conduct and perhaps in advising him how to proceed in his quest for his heart's desire.

It is clear that having faith in the chachamim -- the wise (and by implication his rabbi) -- is praised as a virtue (Avot 6:6), but this is in the context of acquiring Torah rather than that of finding a wife. However,he notion of using a rabbi's blessing as a means of procuring a wife falls outside the scope of Avot entirely.

Would Avot actively advise a young man to ditch the blessing route and make the effort to find a wife for himself? The idea of being self-sufficient in fulfilling one's needs rather than leaving things to others can arguably be linked loosely to Hillel's broad teaching at Avot 1:14 ("If I am not for me, who is for me? And if I am only for me, what am I?"). Ben He He's mishnah at Avot 5:26 ("According to the effort, so is the reward") might suggest that our friend could get a better wife if he made more effort, but that is well outside the scope of usual Torah-related interpretations of it.

I shall continue to dwell on this fascinating issue. in the meantime, suggestions are welcome from readers of this blog as to how Pirkei Avot might best advise this young man.

It doesn't take great brains...

In the past few years the Jewish world has lost two giants of Torah scholarship—Rabbi Aharon Yehuda Leib Shteinman ztz”l and Rabbi Chaim Kanievsky ztz”l. Obituaries have praised their virtually unmatched knowledge of Jewish law and their contributions to its further and deeper understanding, as well as their dedication and respective leadership roles within and often well beyond the confines of their traditional constituencies.

It is improbable that any reader of this post can equal the scholarship of these two remarkable men, but there is one aspect of their lives in which I believe there is a chance that we can match them. Let me explain.

It is universally agreed that both Rabbi Shteinman and Rabbi Kanievsky were humble. This quality is the subject of several teachings in Pirkei Avot:

• According to Rabbi Levitas ish Yavneh, a person should be extremely humble since the ultimate aspiration of the human is but the worm (4:4).
• Rabbi Meir emphasises that one should be humble towards all other people (4:12). He adds that, where a person studies Torah for its own sake and without ulterior motives, the Torah clothes him in humility (6:1).
• An anonymous Baraita lists humility among the 48 boxes that a person must tick in order to acquire mastery of the Torah (6:6).
  

While Pirkei Avot goes to considerable lengths to explain how one can acquire Torah and how best to learn it, there is no definition of humility—which makes it harder to know whether someone has it or not—and no explicit guidelines as to how to become humble.

In promoting the cause of humility we face a further problem. As children we learn a great deal about human qualities and characteristics, both positive and negative, and are thus easily able to recognise them. Even a small child will be familiar with concepts like fairness and unfairness, kindness and unkindness, happiness and anger, generosity and selfishness. The vocabulary relating to these traits is learned early too, as parents and teachers seek to reinforce good behaviour (“well done Moishe, that was so kind of you!”) and discourage that which is not (“You’ve had such a lovely long turn on the swing, Esti, so shouldn't you let your little brother have a turn now too?”). The concept of humility doesn’t seem to work the same way though. How often does one hear a child being told, “well done Moishe/Esti, that was a really humble thing to do”? Indeed, how old are most children today before they understand the word “humility”?

We should also consider whether, since "humility" is not a topic of daily conversation at home or at the workplace, whether it may be possible to assemble a sort of composite working definition of humility, based on compliance with several other provisions of Pirkei Avot that reflect aspects of the behaviour of a humble person. Thus we may hypothesise that such a person, for example, lets other people finish speaking instead of interrupting them (5:9), accepts that something is true rather than denying it (ibid.), gives others the benefit of the doubt (1:6), and greets people in a pleasant manner (1:15, 3:16, 4:20) both on the basis that they too are created in God’s image (3:18) and because God created no-one without some purpose (4:3). Moreover, a person should not consider himself entitled to act behind God’s back (2:1, 3:1, 4:5) and he should act in such a way that he should have no cause to regard himself as bad (2:17). Other provisions in Avot can also be marshalled into this composite identikit image of someone who is humble.

There is something inherently unsatisfying in describing humility only in terms of the aggregation of other human qualities, so readers’ thoughts are invited as to how they would describe someone as being humble in today’s terms. Meanwhile we can all take some comfort in the thought that, while none of us is ever likely to aspire to the pinnacle of Torah scholarship, it doesn't take great brains or years of study in order to be humble. All you need is the ability to behave properly towards your fellow humans, a large reservoir of will-power -- and a readiness to work hard at preserving your humility well beyond the point at which you feel so proud of having achieved it.

A home for all?

The Ukrainian refugee crisis has generated much sympathy from those fortunate enough to live outside the war zone. More than that, it has prompted many people to open their homes to the fleeing Ukrainians and offer them hospitality.

Pirkei Avot has something challenging to say about opening one's home to the needy. At the beginning of Avot 1:5 Yose ben Yochanan ish Yerushalayim teaches:

(i) Let your house be open wide and (ii) let the poor be the members of your household ...

[The mishnah continues with a third teaching, on the manner or extent to which a man should engage in small talk with his wife. Though some commentators have sought to link that topic with the first two, I do not propose to discuss it here but will leave it for a later post].

So what can we say about Yose ben Yochanan's guidance on hosting the poor?

Every child who receives a Jewish religious education is likely to encounter the popular story of how the desert tent of Abraham, the founding father of the three major monotheistic faiths, was open on all four sides in order to facilitate the entry of travellers so that he could offer them the hospitality and kindness for which he was famed. This tale, which is regarded as the paradigm of the sort of conduct that Yose ben Yochanan had in mind when composing this Mishnah (see Bartenura and Anaf Yosef) is deeply rooted in Jewish tradition and is of ancient origin (see Avot deRabbi Natan 7:1). Essentially, one’s hospitality should be available to all comers and it should be furnished on the basis of the needs of others, not the convenience or personal preferences of the householder.

This noble aspiration is not absolute: it is even subject to fine-tuning elsewhere in Avot, being subject to the qualification that one must exercise caution and discretion when contemplating whether to welcome a wicked person into one’s home or to keep him out (Avot 1:7).

Can we aspire to the lofty level of Abraham today? To keep one’s home as a truly open house to which all are welcome is a laudable ideal – but it is one which in practice very few people feel that they can live up to. Distrust and suspicion of strangers is nowadays both normal and accepted, following the breakdown of traditional communal and family bonds that has occurred in the decades following the Second World War, Additionally, contemporary householders have come to expect and appreciate a degree of privacy and personal space that was unknown and unimaginable in bygone times.

There is also the question of cost. For those who are so rich that they can afford to offer unlimited hospitality, and for those who are so poor that they have nothing at all to lose, keeping open house poses fewer problems. However, for the very large number of people in the middle, the prospect of welcoming all and sundry – and in particular the poor, who cannot be expected to pay their way – is a prospect that is filled with financial threat and menace.

Householders may also be preoccupied by a further worry: what if the prospective beneficiary of the hospitality, being unknown to his putative host, is a criminal, a fugitive from justice or a person of bad character? Here we have to balance the advice to avoid associating with the wicked against the conflicting obligation to give people the benefit of the doubt unless their track record makes this impossible (Avot 1:6). That too is a laudable ideal, though being required to give others the benefit of any doubt as to their character is not the same as having one’s personal anxieties or suspicions quelled.

None of these issues and worries invalidate the ideal of keeping one’s home open, as Yose ben Yochanan urges us to do, and we have to appreciate that the guidance in this mishnah is one of several pieces of advice in Avot which, if we are honest with ourselves, we struggle to perform properly. The Torah itself concedes that the poor are always with us (Deut. 15:11) and, however many deserving and impoverished people we can shelter, there will always be more whose welfare lies beyond our means. Even so, this mishnah can be read together with the wise observation of Rabbi Tarfon (Avot 2:21) that the fact that a person cannot complete a task does not exempt him from starting it: in other words, each of us should do what we can, when we can, to assist and if necessary shelter those who cannot help themselves.

I should like to conclude with an observation on times of war and peace. During the Second World War and its aftermath, literally millions of people were displaced. For the most part they were impoverished, desperate for sustenance and clothes, and much in need of emotional support. Many were assisted or saved by the brave and often illicit hospitality and shelter offered by others, irrespective of considerations of religion and race. These courageous and meritorious actions have been the subject of countless books, movies and memorials. They also invite us to consider why it is that in wartime conditions, when it is so much more difficult to protect and succour the poor, so many people were prepared to put themselves out, sometimes at risk to their own lives, when it seems that far fewer people are able to rise to the same level of hospitality during periods of relevant peace and security.

Purim and Pirkei Avot 3: drinking wine at midday

This is the third and final short post that links Pirkei Avot to the festival of Purim (tomorrow for most of the world, Friday for Jerusalem and any city that was walled at the time of Joshua).

According to Avot 3:14:

Rabbi Dosa ben Horkinas used to say: "Morning sleep, noontime wine, children's talk and sitting in the meeting places of the ignorant drive a person from the world".

This mishnah makes no overt reference to the festivities of Purim. However, the se'udat Purim -- the generally alcohol-fuelled feast with which Purim concludes -- takes place during the day of Purim itself rather than in the evening that follows it, and before recitation of the ma'ariv (evening) prayers. This year, as inhabitants of Jerusalem are well aware, its celebrations will be taking place on Friday. To allow a little breathing space before Shabbat commences, Jerusalemites will be knocking back the alcoholic beverage of their choice in the middle of the day.

Does this mishnah cast a cloud of solemn sobriety over the fun-day which in Jerusalem immediately precedes it? The answer is probably "it all depends".

Jewish tradition adopts a variety of positions regarding wine. For example, in Psalms we learn that "wine gladdens the heart of man" (Tehillim 104:15). However,

“When a person drinks one cup of wine, he acts like a little lamb – humble and meek. When he drinks two, he becomes as mighty as a lion and starts to boast ‘Who is like me?’ When he drinks three cups, he becomes like a monkey, jiggling around, dancing, giggling and uttering obscenities in public, without realizing what he is doing. Finally, he becomes blind drunk and is like a pig; wallowing in muck and settling down in the mire” (Midrash Tanchuma, parashat Noach 13).

The Romans recognised the force of wine in loosening one's inhibitions, coining the Latin tag "in vino veritas" ("in wine there is truth"), which is reflected in the Hebrew tag “nichnas yayin yetze sod” (“In goes wine, out comes a secret": Eruvin 65a). But is truth a potential casualty of Purim? Many people follow the practice of drinking ad delo yoda -- up to the point at which they no longer know the difference between blessing Mordechai and cursing Haman. Needless to say, there are many opinions as to what this means, and as to whether "up to" means "up to but not including", "up to and including" or "up to and then well beyond".

Rabbi Dosa ben Horkinas would doubtless endorse the position that everything turns on a person's capacity to hold his drink and on how it affects his mood and intellectual cogency. Additionally, no-one's Purim alcohol intake should incapacitate them from performing further mitzvot. Rabbi Dosa's teaching suggests a downward sequence that commences with a person sleeping late and ends with him ending up in the company of people who will not elevate him in his religious commitment.

Happy Purim, everyone! Enjoy your drink, but do make an effort to drink sensibly.

Purim and Pirkei Avot 2: Citing a teaching in the name of its originator

This is the second of three short posts that link Pirkei Avot to the festival of Purim (this coming Thursday for most of the world, Friday for Jerusalem and any city that was walled at the time of Joshua).

A baraita at Avot 6:6 lists 48 things that are said to be ways of acquiring Torah. Of these, the 48th and final item is

"repeating a saying in the name of the one who says it".

The baraita concludes by making the only reference to the Book of Esther that can be found within Avot, adding:

"whoever says something in the name of the person who says it brings redemption to the world, as it is said: 'And Esther spoke to the king in the name of Mordechai'" (Esther 2:22).

What was it that Esther told the king? It was the information, overheard by Mordechai, that Bigtan and Teresh were plotting against him.

The idea of mentioning by name the person who originates an item of Torah learning is a conceptualisation of the same principle that opens the tractate of Avot, where the chain of tradition is charted from the Torah's Sinaitic revelation to the era of the Men of the Great Assembly and then down through the various rabbis whose words we find in the Mishnah and Talmud. It is important to know the name of the person who relates a teaching to others so that its authenticity can be verified -- or challenged.

Our baraita at Avot 6:6 presents us with a paradox: we learn that whoever cites the name of the originator of a piece of learning when he quotes it will bring redemption to the world – but it does not reveal the identity of its own author, of of the author of the statement about bringing redemption to the world.

Are there any clues as to its authorship? The name of Rabbi Yose is twice found in close proximity to citations of this maxim (at Chullin104b, Niddah 19b) but it is nowhere stated that he is its author. In Megillah 15b the same principle is taught in the name of later rabbis (where the Amora Rabbi Elazar teaches it in the name of an earlier Amora, Rabbi Chanina).

Regardless of its authorship and the reason, if any, for not citing it, the maxim retains its force: the correct citation of one’s sources can enhance both the transparency and the authority of one’s arguments, leading to their acceptance where they are correct and to their dismissal or refutation where they are not. The Babylonian Talmud does however preserve a number of examples where this principle is discarded in favour of false attribution, where the rabbis discern a greater good which only false attribution can achieve – this greater good frequently being framed as a means of persuading the Jewish population at large to accept an undoubtedly correct halachic ruling which, if learned in the name of its true author, would carry considerably less weight (see Marc B. Shapiro, Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History, in Chapter 8 (“Is the Truth Really That important?”).

Purim and Pirkei Avot 1: Rejoicing over the downfall of enemies

This is the first of three short posts that link Pirkei Avot to the festival of Purim (this coming Thursday for most of the world, Friday for Jerusalem and any city that was walled at the time of Joshua).

At Avot 4:24, Shmuel HaKatan ("Samuel the Small") is quoted as saying

"When your enemy falls, do not rejoice; when he stumbles, do not let your heart be gladdened in case God sees and it will be displeasing in His eyes, and He will turn His anger from [your enemy to you]"

This mishnah raises many questions, not least is that of why this teaching appears in Pirkei Avot at all since it consists of a couple of verses that have been cut-and-pasted from Proverbs 24:17-18. Or, as one commentator, puts it, if this verse comes straight from King Solomon, why should we be concerned with how big or small this particular Tanna happens to be?

Leaving that issue aside, there is a topical matter to consider. On the festival of Purim, Jews the world over engage in merrily celebrating the downfall of Haman -- the arch-villain whose rise and fall are described in the Book of Esther. How can we do this in the face of clear guidance about not rejoicing when our enemies stumble?

On Purim we celebrate in accordance with the mood of the moment, as expressed in the Book of Esther: (8:16):

“The Jews had light and happiness and joy and honour" (Esther 8:16).

Does this sentiment invite the celebration of the downfall of one’s foes? The context of this verse suggests that this is not actually so. The event to which this joyful verse refers is not the downfall of Haman at all, but to the issue of a royal proclamation that the Jews were allowed to take up arms in order to defend themselves against those who, in accordance with an earlier and irrevocable proclamation (at 3:13), were ordered to exterminate them and plunder their property. It is clear, therefore, that the celebration of Purim does not contradict the substance of our mishnah. Rather, it marks the turning point in the tide of Jewish fortunes; it was a sign that, since they had not deserted God, God had not deserted them. 

A good telling off? No way!

One of the mitzvot in the Torah that is often if not usually difficult to pull off without causing damage is that of rebuking people who are doing something wrong (Vayikra/Leviticus 19:17). This is because the reaction of the person being rebuked is frequently unpredictable, irrational or downright offensive. Many people prefer to leave rebukes to others; for many generations it has been said that "we live in a generation that no longer knows how to rebuke" -- though the Pele Yo'etz felt that it is was the other way round: we have lost the art of being rebuked.

I recently found an interesting thought on this topic that emanates from the Divrei Chacham Tzvi. The polite way to suggest to someone that they are doing something wrong -- particularly if that person is a parent or one's rabbi, whom one should be at pains not to contradict -- is to ask them a question, posed in abstract terms, about the conduct one wishes to draw to their attention. This question would run along the lines of "can you please teach me the halachah (the Jewish legal position) regarding such-and-such?" Ideally, in giving the correct answer to this question, the "offender" would suddenly realize that the answer applied to him or her and would instantly refrain from whatever should not have been done.

"What has this to do with Pirkei Avot?", you may be wondering. The answer lies at Avot 4:1 in the maxim of Ben Zoma: "Who is wise? The person who learns from everyone". This is said here to apply to a person who has the capacity to "learn" from everyone by asking them for a ruling when he or she is actively involved in rebuking them.

This explanation is pretty certainly not what Ben Zoma had in mind. However, it has the highly positively effect of encouraging people to administer rebukes to anyone and everyone who may need them, irrespective of rank and status. It also emphasises the importance of putting people back on the right course in their religious commitments.

In terms of practical application, this explanation is bound to be narrow. While it applies where a person is making an error under Jewish law, it is not easy to see how it could be made to apply in situations where human behaviour involves choosing between a range of possible options.

From the Garden of Unearthly Delights: two books

When I am in prowling mode, I wander through the streets in search of excitement. Being easily satisfied by even a small quantity of excitement, my prowling generally gets no further than the Pomeranz family bookshop ("The Gan Eden of Jewish Books"), where I feast my eyes and occasionally empty my pockets on the serried ranks of Jewish interest publications. If Gan Eden could ever (Heaven forfend!) be described as the Garden of Earthly Delights, Pomeranz's mini-paradise could be termed the Garden of Unearthly Delights, given the high spiritual and/or inspirational content of so many of the books on sale there.

My most recent visit found me drawn, as usual, to the shelf with books on Jewish ethics. There I found two with which I made not previously been acquainted.

The first, published in Jerusalem way back in 1983 by Gefen, is A Companion to Pirke Avot by the late Rabbi Benjamin Morgenstern. This book, the dust jacket states at the outset and in the author's Introduction, is not a commentary to Avot but a companion. In truth it is more of a work of history-cum-biography since its content is arranged around the personalities of no fewer than 22 rabbis. Only 19 of those discussed are actually contributors to Avot: Rabban Gamliel of Yavneh and Rabbi Natan HaBavli also feature and there is a short but welcome chapter on the mysterious and elusive Menachem -- Hillel's "partner" before Shammai's arrival on the scene. Rabbi Morgenstern's position is that the sayings of the Tannaim of Avot, many of which are "terse or even laconic", might be understood and more properly appreciated if they were learned within the context of events in which their author may have participated or been an observer. 

At 221 pages and with recommended references for further study, this book is a comfortable and informative read. In an ideal world it would have been a little longer, with room for discussion of Rabbi Elazar ben Arach (another candidate for the true identity of Rabbi Nehorai, whom the author exclusively identifies as Rabbi Meir) and a little speculation concerning the status of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi (was he, or was he not, a Tanna?) Frustratingly, we have to accept that there is so little biographical information about some of the rabbis of Avot that it would not have been feasible to find more than a brief paragraph to say about them. 

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The second book I encountered, fresh off the printing press, is Dr Ari Ciment's Pirkei Dr Ari, published by Mosaica Press of Bet Shemesh. A much larger and indeed heavier work than that of Rabbi Morgenstern (at 576 pages) it is an agreeably easy read, with clear, well-spaced typography that facilitates the reader's effortless turning of pages.

This work too is not a conventional commentary on Pirkei Avot. Subtitled "Connecting Pirkei Avos to the Parashah", it leads the reader through not just each week's Torah reading but also to that of the main festivals. Each parashah opens with quotes from one or more mishnayot of Avot which are immediately followed by questions that are designed to focus the reader's thoughts on both the mishnah and the Torah reading. Most parshiyot are treated to more than one Avot-led discussion.

This methodology is somewhat reminiscent of that of Rabbenu Bachye ben Asher's prefixing each week's Torah analysis with a relevant verse from Mishlei (Proverbs), but works rather more easily for two reasons: (i) the mishnayot of Avot are generally more accessible and better known to contemporary readers than are the verses of Mishlei; (ii) the author helpfully concludes each essay with takeaway messages or answers to ensure that the reader never misses the point.

Dr Ciment, the author, is an expert on Jewish medical ethics, a topic that he has taught at Touro College. More importantly than that, he is a genuine enthusiast for life and for everything that a study of Torah combined with Avot can offer. This is not so much a Torah narrative or a commentary on Avot as a labour of love. His publishers, Mosaica, summarise this book thus:

The Torah is not meant as a history book but as a practical guide for us to live by. Pirkei Avos is the Mishnaic tractate that is a compilation of the ethical teachings passed down from Moshe Rabbeinu. This book highlights the connection between each parashah and Pirkei Avos, thereby uncovering practical takeaway messages. This is Pirkei Avos in the parashah — Pirkei Dr. Ari!

Pirkei Avot comes to Instagram

The best way to learn Pirkei Avot properly is to sit down with a teacher or friend in order to read and discuss its wise and sometimes controversial content. Ideally this should involve learning the original text, together with a good translation (if needed) and at least one of the main commentaries. Having said that, there are very many people -- and possibly a large majority of students and schoolkids -- who know little or nothing about Avot and are therefore unlikely to take notice of it at all, let alone study it.

Instagram provides a means for fusing brief snippets of text with eye-catching images in order to incapsulate a point in a sharp, succinct manner. My idea is that it can alert the media-savvy younger generations to some of the messages of Avot and, ideally, raise their level of awareness and even stimulate their curiosity to know a bit more.

Two examples of Instagram memes are shown at the foot of this post. Both seek to illustrate points made by Hillel at Avot 2:6.

The first is that someone who is meek, bashful or painfully reticent is not going to succeed in his or her studies since it takes a bit of courage to ask questions if you are afraid that they will make you appear foolish or if you are scared of your teacher's response. The second is that a teacher who is bad-tempered or short-tempered, aggressive and nitpickingly pedantic will not make a good teacher since he or she will intimidate students and drain away their self-confidence.

Not all of the guidance in Avot is amenable to this treatment. For example, the same mishnah that I have used for these two memes also teaches that a boor cannot be a sin-fearing person. There are also mishnayot which abstractions that are hard to portray visually, for example Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah's teaching (Avot 3:21) that where there is no knowledge, there is no understanding.

Having discussed these Avot memes with a small and probably quite unrepresentative sample of Jewish youth, I have been disappointed at how little they knew about Pirkei Avot -- if they knew anything about it at all -- and how willing they were to engage in informal discussion about some of the memes that have already been posted on Avot Today's Instagram account. I'm sure this exercise can be done better and hope that other people who are more at home with Instagram, Tik-Tok and the various other channels for creative and interactive communication will take up the challenge of making better ones than I can manage.

Thoughts and comments, please!

Avot Today's Instagram page is at https://www.instagram.com/avottoday/

Testing man, testing God

Now that we are in the month of Adar II and Purim will shortly be upon us, I've added the Ma'amre Purim of Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky (author of the Netivot Shalom) to my breakfast reading list. This rabbi's writings always put me in a good mood for the day because he always seems to have something positive to say.

In the second essay in this slim publication, R' Berezovsky returns to one of his favourite themes, the Ten Tests of Abraham. Students of Pirkei Avot may recall that this topic is the subject of a mishnah (5:4) in which we learn that God tested Abraham ten times to demonstrate either Abraham's love for God (the usual view) or God's love for Abraham (a position that can be reconciled with the words of the mishnah).

R' Berezovsky's oft-made point is that it's not just a teaching about God and Abraham: it's a message for us too. Why? Because every one of us also faces our own "ten tests", as it were.

Though many commentators have compiled their lists of ten tests, their identity is immaterial. The mishnah does not list them and, on a close reading of the Torah and its associated midrashim, one can find over 30 candidates for inclusion in the list of ten.

The real reason why the identity of the tests is unimportant can be found in R' Berezovsky's comment, whatever tests God sends us -- and by implication Abraham too -- it is always the same thing that is being tested. That is our bitachon, our trust in God. Whether our tests involve expense, hardship, illness or anything else, the outcome will either reveal that we trust God and have confidence in him, or that we do not.

Pirkei Avot has another mishnah that deals with tests: at 5:6 we are reminded that our forefathers in the desert tested God ten times. It occurs to me that these tests too are on the theme of bitachon: they are not however tests that God has any problems in passing. They are tests of quite a different order, since they reflect our own absence of bitachon. Why otherwise would we have behaved as we did, in complaining and even rebelling against the God who brought us out of Egypt and split the Reed Sea on our behalf?

Rabbis: what do we really need them for?

The need to get oneself a rabbi is mentioned twice in Pirkei Avot -- first by Yehoshua ben Perachya (at 1:6) and then again by Rabban Gamliel (at 1:16). The first of those rabbis adds the need to acquire for oneself a friend. In simple terms, this means only that everyone needs a spiritual guide or mentor when navigating their course through life, as well as a companion with whom they can discuss their feelings and experiences and against whom they can bounce their ideas, expose their fears and share their moments of success and happiness.

My synagogue -- a fairly close-knit community synagogue in Jerusalem -- is currently seeking an associate rabbi to support the current incumbent, a distinguished scholar whose weight of years make it hard for him to meet the many and wide-ranging demands of its membership. This set me thinking about the advice to get oneself a rabbi.

Pirkei Avot is a code of guidance that, in essence, is addressed to individuals. Every person is unique and possesses a bundle of skills, interests, aptitudes and concerns. When choosing a rabbi, it is probable that each of us starts from the position of looking at what we need and then seeking a rabbi who is most likely to address all or at least most of those needs. This cannot be so easily done collectively, since every community is comprised of individuals whose needs and interests are different.

In the case of our synagogue, a job description was drafted and the membership was invited to complete a questionnaire in which they could indicate their preferences. From what I have heard from fellow congregants, the successful candidate should ideally be old and wise yet young and imaginative, possessed of great interpersonal skills yet immersed in Torah learning, full of drive and energy yet endlessly patient and possessed of a full range of pastoral skills. He should also be well-known and well-established, yet willing to step away from his current post in order to join our small and aging, if undoubtedly enthusiastic, community. If such a person can be found, we shall be well blessed.

My personal feeling is that we will not have fulfilled the precept of getting a rabbi by merely making a communal appointment. The words of the two mishnayot are expressed in Hebrew in the singular: עֲשֵׂה לְךָ רַב (aseh lecha rav). The rabbi should be personal to each of us. Or, as a viable alternative, each of us should be able to establish a viable personal relationship with him.

This in turn leads me to speculate as to how far a person's relationship with his or her rabbi should go. An interesting point to ponder is to ask the question: "which of the following issues would you discuss with your rabbi?"

• Which city or area to live in;

• Whether to buy a particular house or apartment;

• Which school or college to attend or send a child to;

• Whether a person whom one contemplates marrying is a suitable match;

• Which charity or charities to support and how much to give them;

• How to control one’s temper;

• How to handle a bout of depression;

• What books to take on holiday;

• How to dress when attending social functions;

• Whether to forgive a person who has caused personal pain or financial loss.

Thoughts, anyone?

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 February 2022:

Sunday 27 February 2022: What does "loving peace" mean? Hillel (Avot 1:12) urges us to love peace and pursue it. But can you love something when you take it for granted?

Friday 25 February 2022: Praying for peace: not so easy.  The unfolding events in Ukraine call for prayer. Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel (Avot 2:18) has some advice that seems simple, but is not always so in practice..

Tuesday 22 February 2022: Worrying about the cure for worry? Hillel teaches, "the more the wealth, the more the worry" (Avot 2:8). Is there a degree of circularity in this simple proposition? 

Sunday 20 February 2022: Priestly blessings and an excess of piety: Hillel teaches (Avot 2:6) that an am ha'aretz cannot be a chasid. The Pele Yo'etz gives a practical example.

Friday 18 February 2022: The tablets of stone and the invention of literacy: Avot 5:8 talks of ten items that were created just before the onset of the first Sabbath. Three are to do with writing.

Wednesday 16 February 2022: A graphic account of Jewish ethics: Jessica Tamar Deutsch's illustrated version of Pirkei Avot has only now caught this blog's attention. What's it really like? 

Monday 14 February 2022: Torah learning a tale of pigs and rings: We investigate the meaning of the word nazuf in Avot 6:2 and review an apparent double-metaphor involving beautiful women, pigs and rings.

Friday 11 February 2022: Kohanim, Clothes and the Worth of a Good Name: Avot 4:17 refers to three crowns -- or is it four? Can they be made to relate to the priestly garments detailed in the Torah?

Wednesday 9 February 2022: A name made great...: The sad tale of Eric Lander's tenure as head of the White House's Office of Science and Technology Policy.

Thursday 3 February 2022: What the blazes! The fox, the scorpion and the snake: We look behind Rabbi Eliezer's teaching about respecting the words of the wise and consider his choice of metaphor.

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Avot Today blogposts for January 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for December 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for November 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for October 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for September 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for August 2021 here