When silence is better than speech

I’m currently dipping in and out of the recently-published English translation of the Me’iri’s commentary on Pirkei Avot (noted here). While doing so, the following thoughts occurred to me.

At Avot 1:17 Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel (referred to in the Hebrew as “Shimon his son”) offers two comments regarding self-control when speaking: “All my days I have been raised among the Sages and I found nothing better for oneself than silence … and anyone who talks excessively causes [literally “brings on”] sin”.

Rambam’s commentary on this Mishnah adds that there are five different categories of speech: in modern parlance they are (i) that which is actually forbidden; (ii) that which is undesirable; (iii) that which is effectively neutral; (iv) that which is desirable but not mandatory and (v) that which is commanded. Many later commentators cite this five-part division and give examples.

As applied to this Mishnah, the first and last of those categories do not normally cause problems. Words that are prohibited (e.g. false oaths and bad-mouthing others) may not be spoken at all. Words that are commanded (e.g. various blessings and publicly reciting readings from the Torah and the megilot) may not be suppressed. The field of choice for the speaker lies in the three middle categories. Curiously Rabban Shimon’s advice would appear to apply more to both undesirable and desirable speech than to words that are neutral, since even well-intentioned words of advice, praise and encouragement can be misunderstood and lead to ill-feeling. In contrast, utterances like “Does this bus go to the station?” or “I should like a kilo of apples and half a kilo of cherries, please” are generally devoid of friction-generating content and are in any event unlikely to be repeated excessively.

The Me’iri’s commentary on Avot cites Rambam’s five-part analysis. The manner in which he does so is a little surprising, because he brings it only after first reciting another categorisation of speech: the four-part division composed by Rabbi Shlomo ibn Gabirol, a Spanish scholar, poet and philosopher who died over 90 years before Rambam was born. This division, found in ibn Gabirol’s Mivchar HaPeninim (sha’ar hashetikah) is based not on the quality of the words themselves but on the intention of the speaker:

(i)        Words spoken in the hope that they will be beneficial but which one fears may have a less desirable outcome (e.g. speaking out against one person in order to assist that person’s opponent). Such words are better not spoken because of the likelihood that they will cause harm and that their benefit will not outweigh any loss;

(ii)      Words spoken without any expectation of benefit, where only harm is likely (e.g. gratuitously bad-mouthing others). Such words should obviously not be spoken;

(iii)      Words from which neither a benefit nor a detriment is expected to arise (e.g. recounting news of current events). While there is no harm in speaking them, a burden is shifted from one’s shoulders if one does not indulge in speaking them;

(iv)     Words from which one expects to achieve a benefit and where there is no likely downside, such as speaking of matters of wisdom and character traits. This type of speech alone is worth speaking.

The Me’iri does not discuss either of these classifications of speech; nor does he compare or contrast them. We can however recognise that Rambam’s methodology requires the putative speaker, before opening his or her mouth to speak, to look objectively at the nature and the quality of the words spoken. Once the speaker has done this, it should be clear whether they are of a kind that warrants their being spoken. Ibn Gabirol’s criteria are far more difficult to apply, since the merit and inherent acceptability of words is made to depend both on the speaker’s intention and on his or her ability to assess and predict the likely consequences, good and bad, of speaking them. While anyone can apply Rambam’s rules to the spoken word, only the speaker can determine his or her motives and know whether to say them or not.

It would be wrong to say that either Rambam’s or ibn Gabirol’s tests should be favoured, which may be why the Me’iri cites them both without comment. A person with an introspective cast of mind is likely to be drawn to ibn Gabirol’s criteria while someone in search of certainty and security in making decisions is likely to be drawn to the Rambam’s.

Incidentally, the Me’iri leaves the last word with ibn Gabirol, again citing the Mivchar HaPeninim, sha’ar hashetikah. But this time the context is that of learning Torah, where he cites the maxim “tovah atzelet hashetikah” (translated by Rabbi Yehuda Bulman as “The laziness of silence is better than the laziness of speech”). This maxim and its connection to our mishnah in Avot are explained in the following terms.

After stating that this maxim is open to misunderstanding, the Me’iri nails it down to a fairly narrow fact-specific situation in which a person is studying wisdom. In the one case his attitude is that of a sort of dilettante: totally lazy, he goes through the motions but doesn’t put any effort into doing so; he is to be contrasted with the person who does actually learn his topic of study but, being partially lazy makes no effort to put his learning to the test, to see if it can be verified. The completely lazy person is totally silent because he doesn’t know enough to engage in debate and thereby misrepresent that which he was supposed to have learned. The partially lazy person however will not be silent: he knows enough to be able to engage in debate but is deluded into thinking that he has understood what he has learning. When he opens his mouth it is only to distort wisdom and spread errors. For this person, total silene would have been far better.

In terms of the practical application of the guidance of Pirkei Avot in one’s daily life, it is well to remember that this not the only Mishnah that addresses self-imposed limitations on one’s speech. Shammai (Avot 1:15) teaches that one should say a little but do a lot, advice that superficially appears to address the quantum of speech rather than its content, and Rabbi Akiva’s maxim that silence is a fence to wisdom (Avot 3:17), a sort of counterpart to the Me’iri’s account of ibn Gabirol’s praise of the “laziness of silence”—where silence is a fence to protect a fool from appearing foolish rather than being literally a fence to protect wisdom. Both Shammai’s and Rabbi Akiva’s mishnayot are the subject of an extensive analytical literature, however, and can be taken in many different ways.

With great respect! Honouring others today

The background

It is inevitable that some bits of Pirkei Avot are more popular and more frequently cited than others. Even within the same mishnah some teachings are clearly more favoured. A good example is Avot 4:1, where Ben Zoma asks and answers four questions: who is (i) wise, (ii) strong, (iii) rich and (iv) honoured? Modern writers tend to cite and discuss the first three questions much more frequently than the fourth.

A possible explanation of this bias is that we are daily more concerned with matters of wisdom and the acquisition of knowledge, with inner and outward strength and with wealth than we are with issues involving honour. The notion of according honour to others does have a somewhat archaic, almost chivalric, sound to it—and, in days gone by, honour was something to which a person was principally entitled by virtue of status. Thus honour was part of the package of benefits to which one might be entitled if one were a monarch, the kohen gadol (high priest), a regular kohen, a Torah scholar, someone who had reached an advanced age, or a parent.

The Hebrew text of the fourth part of Avot 4:1 opens with:

אֵיזֶהוּ מְכֻבָּד, הַמְּכַבֵּד אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת

This is usually translated along the lines of “Who is the person who is honoured? The one who honours [other] people”.

There then follows a proof verse:

שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: כִּי מְכַבְּדַי אֲכַבֵּד וּבֹזַי יֵקָֽלּוּ

As it is said: “For those who honour Me I will honour, and those who treat Me insultingly, they will be made light of” (I Samuel 2:30).

The problem

The word translated in this mishnah as “honour” is kavod. The accuracy of this translation is beyond challenge and it is accepted in all the leading translations of Pirkei Avot. However, there is a problem in terms of colloquial nuance. “Honour” is a word that suggests in many circumstances something special and perhaps unusual; it not a term that crops up on a daily basis in our speech. This means that the relevance of Ben Zoma’s teaching in our everyday lives is minimised.

Ben Zoma clearly did not intend the word kavod to apply only to kings, high priests, parents and lofty personages. This is plain from his stipulation that the person who is honoured is one who honours all other people: the object of one’s kavodis beriot (literally “creations”), meaning “all other people by virtue of the fact that they have been created, not by virtue of their status or office”.

Many years ago Rabbi David Rowe suggested to me that the word kavod might in many contexts be more appropriately translated as “respect”, and it seems to me that this meaning of the word works very well here. While we may think it strange—and even somewhat facetious--to speak of the need to “honour” a storekeeper, taxi driver, waitress, healthcare receptionist or bank clerk, it makes good sense to view our relationships with them in terms of respect. And if we respect them in the way we speak to them and deal with them, it is unsurprising that they should reciprocate by treating us with respect too, even if this does not automatically on every single occasion.

The questions

How, then, should we go about respecting other people? I’ve listed some random suggestions below. Of the items listed, some are already included elsewhere in Pirkei Avot or are arguably mitzvot in their own right. They are, in no particular order:

• Greet others in a pleasant manner.
• Address others by their name if you know it, but don't call them by their first name where it would be inappropriate to do so.
• Speak to others in a calm tone of voice, regardless of one’s mood.
• Don’t stare into space or check your phone when someone is speaking to your face.
• Don’t interrupt others but let them finish what they are saying before you next speak.
• Don’t put the phone down on someone before the conversation is concluded.
• If you disagree with others, at least offer to give them a reason.If you are unable to keep a promise made to another person, tell that person rather than let them find out for themselves.
• When you have an appointment or are meeting someone at a specified time, do not be late and keep the other person waiting.

This is an “entry level” list, to apply to everyone else. Obviously, one may be obliged to do more when dealing with people whose status entitles them to receive a greater degree of respect, or even actual honour. Do you agree with these suggestions—and can you add to them?

After the book launch

First, a big "thank you" to everyone who attended and helped make "Ain't Misbehavin'" such a special occasion. It was great to see some old friends and to have the chance to make some new ones too.

Secondly, my attempt to generate a video recording of the presentation was a partial failure. Almost all the video recording is blank. The sound track is still audible but, when the file is trimmed to remove some 20 minutes of redundant material, the sound vanishes completely. I'm working on this problem with the aid of a grandchild and hope to have an audio version for you soon.

I'm making available a fairly full version of the text for anyone who wants to read it, as well as the PowerPoint slideshow. You can access them both here.

On a more serious note, a number of copies of Pirkei Avot: A Users' Manual were sold at the event, but the amount of money taken exceeded the number of copies sold. If you bought a copy on the night, please check your receipt. We are looking for either (i) someone who bought two copies but only picked up one, or (ii) someone who bought one copy but paid for it twice.

Finally, I'd like to reiterate for the benefit of a couple of people who left before the final slide that the bottle from which I was drinking copiously throughout my presentation did NOT contain Aberlour single malt whisky: I was drinking a cold rooibos (redbush) infusion. This was for the purpose of al tistakel bekankan ela bemah sheyesh bo (Rabbi Meir's teaching at Avot 4:27: "don't look at the bottle but at what's inside it") and for Yehoshua ben Perachya's teaching at Avot 1:6 that one should judge others favourably.

Diapers on the doorstep

A couple of days ago I was surprised to find a neat bundle on my doorstep: a small white bag containing some used diapers. It was not difficult to trace their origin: we have close neighbours with a small child who is as yet not house-trained.

The immediate question I faced was that of what to do.

Had this happened to me in my pre-Pirkei Avot days, I know how would have responded. My first feelings would be those of anger bordering on outrage, fuelled by the fire of righteous indignation. How could anyone dare to do this at all, let alone to a close neighbour! I would have contemplated a number of vigorous responses. These would have included (i) ringing at the neighbours’ door and demanding an explanation while dangling the offending bag in front of whoever had the misfortune to answer the doorbell, and (ii) posting the bag into their letterbox. These initial feelings would have been suppressed only with some difficulty and in the knowledge that, if I utilised the letterbox option, I might be spotted by another resident of the building and branded a trouble-maker.

Now, as a Pirkei Avot man, I find the situation much easier to resolve.

Placing a bag of used diapers on a neighbour’s doorstep is not a usual form of behaviour. Indeed, during the three years in which we have lived in such proximity, this has never happened before. Our relationship with our neighbours, though never close, has always been polite and respectful. Neither they nor we are noisy folk and, to the best of my knowledge, none of us have done anything that might give rise to offence.

In the absence of any evidence that our neighbours were evil or motivated by malicious intent, this seemed the ideal opportunity to judge them favourably in accordance with the precept of Yehoshua ben Perachya (Avot 1:16).

But what reason might they have which could exculpate them? Hillel teaches (Avot 2:5) that one should not judge another person unless one is standing in his or her place. Our neighbours look to me as though they are in their early 30s.  Truth to tell, I can hardly remember anything of being in my 30s at all: the decade was a constant round of broken nights, stressful days and of dashing from one crisis to another as I tried to build a career while bearing my share of responsibility for babies and small children whose demands were many but who lacked the vocabulary to express them. Perhaps our neighbours were struggling, just as I had done, with similar burdens and had inadvertently dropped the diapers on our doorstep when they were interrupted by an emergent crisis and later forgot that they had not taken them all the way down to the refuse bins.

This was all very well in terms of exculpating my neighbours, but I was still left with the unwanted bundle. What should I do with it? When Rabbi Yose HaCohen is asked (Avot 2:13) to identify the good path that a person should choose for himself, he answers that it is the path of being a good neighbour. Now what would a good neighbour do here? I would forgive my neighbours, make sure not to say anything about this incident at all unless it became a regular event, and take the bag down to the refuse bin myself. End of story.

The best part of this little episode is that, by saying nothing to our neighbours, I avoided the risk of falling out with them—and that I avoided both getting angry and wallowing in those feelings of righteous indignation that feel so good at the time but can be so destructive.

Perek, Proverbs and Parallels

I’ve recently been re-reading Seeking His Presence, a set of conversations between Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein and his interlocutor, Rabbi Haim Sabato that was published back in 2016. I’d meant to do this because I didn’t make much of it first time round: it was a poor choice of reading material for a rather uncomfortable and disrupted airline flight and I didn’t do it justice. Second time through, I came across the following thought of Rav Lichtenstein:

To speak anachronistically, one could say that Proverbs [Mishlei] is the “Tractate Avot” of the Bible. Other books in the Bible do not set out to take us by the hand and guide us through the complexities of life. The tone of Proverbs is reflective, tranquil… Sometimes the absolute tone of Proverbs makes it difficult for us to grasp its central message. In part, it is simply a list of good ideas. However, it is not right to view Proverbs merely as a collection of aphorisms for how to live one’s life, some of which parallel what we are taught in Pirkei Avot. The message of Proverbs is that one should live with a fear of Heaven and that sinners suffer grave consequences…

All of this must be taken into consideration as I construct my ethical world. I must ask myself to what extent I am capable of inculcating in my consciousness and my lifestyle that which is written in Proverbs and other books of the Bible and to strike the proper balance. Oftentimes the question is one of balance.

In conclusion…I understand that there are certain aspects of our ethical teachings that, in practice, are subject to change. But to be subservient to the worldview of the Bible and Hazal [our sages, of blessed memory] is the central touchstone of Torah ethics.

Several things caught my eye this time round.

One was the reference to the construction of an individual’s ethical world, an apparent acknowledgement of the fact that, while we do not have to construct our own halachic world and are not supposed to, the elasticity and subjective quality of ethics demands that we each construct our own ethical designer-world. Both Proverbs and Avot provide the raw materials for this act of personal construction and the general foundations on which the work may be done, but not the architect’s plans for the final product.

Another was Rav Lichtenstein’s commitment to internalising the ethical standards of Proverbs (and, by implication, Pirkei Avot) to the point that they govern one’s consciousness and lifestyle. I feel that there are two quite separate issues here and that the quotation above does not sufficiently distinguish them. One is the internalisation of the actual standards, which requires them to be identified, studied and absorbed. The other is the application of these standards in the course of one’s daily life. It is in that second task alone that the art of balancing these standards applies.

Incidentally, the association of Proverbs with Avot is no mere flight of fancy. In the five perakim of mishnayot in Avot, there are 31 citations of verses from the Tanach. Proverbs is over-represented here, claiming six of them, or around one-fifth. In the sixth perek, which consists entirely of baraitot, there are 34 citations of Tanach, of which 18, that is to say 53%, come from Proverbs.

Comments, anyone? 

Book launch: Tonight's the night!

This evening I mark the launch of my book, Pirkei Avot: A Users' Manual, by giving a presentation at Beit Knesset Hanassi, Ussishkin 24, Jerusalem (details below) at 8.30 pm prompt. If you can join me for the event, you will be very welcome.

The presentation will take place downstairs, at ground level. If you get there earlier, the main synagogue is open for minchah and ma’ariv prayers. There you will see a beautiful stained-glass window (shown here) with a Pirkei Avot theme which I wrote about almost exactly one year ago (link to article on Avot Today weblog here).

My presentation is not being shown via Zoom, but I am in the process of arranging to have it recorded so that anyone who wants to watch it can download it at their leisure. I shall also be making the full text available, together with the accompanying PowerPoint slideshow.

Iniquitous names and Torah titles

This piece was originally posted on the Judaism Reclaimed Facebook Group.

There exists a grey area in Jewish learning, which lies between the Torah shebek’tav (the Written Torah) and the Torah shebe’al peh (the Oral Torah). This is the area of speculation as to their interface. To what extent does the written word foreshadow the oral tradition, and how might the oral tradition find its roots in the Tanach? In areas of halachah the interfaces are usually quite easy to spot, even if their extent and significance require extensive Talmudic analysis. In the field of mussar and middot—moral guidance—the connection between the written and spoken Torah is often much less clear.

Parashat Shelach Lecha opens with a summons to Moshe: God tells him to send forth men to spy out the land. Even after describing them as leaders, the Torah double-underlines their importance by describing them as anashim (“men of significance”) and rashei benei Yisrael (“heads of the Children of Israel”). In no other place in the Torah is the importance, the status, of the tribal heads described in such deliberately laboured terms.

Now that we fully understand how important are these men who are being tasked with spying out the land, the Torah gives the name of each of them together with his tribal affiliation. Unusually this list is book-ended with two apparently superfluous statements. Before identifying them the Torah states: “These are the names…”, though this fact is plain to the reader. At the conclusion of the list the Torah adds, again without any apparent need, the words “These are their names…”.  Two of the named leaders—Yehoshua and Kalev—excel in the discharge of their duties. The rest fail, are disgraced and immediately receive the severest punishment.

To the traditional Torah scholar it is axiomatic that no word is unnecessary: apparently excess verbiage cannot be dismissed as the product of sloppy editing or as evidence of multiple authorship. Instead, extra words must be construed and understood in the light of their context in the narrative of the Torah and in accordance with a long-standing inherited portfolio of religious and cultural norms that together comprise the Jewish religion. So how might we address the issue of what the Torah is seeking to teach us here?

The Torah text appears to be performing in literary format the task of placing the nominated spies on a pedestal and shining a spotlight on them. For them, anonymity is not an option; this is no secret mission. They are entrusted with a responsibility of monumental magnitude, that of surveying the Promised Land before the imminent entry to it of those whom they lead.  This mission, instigated by God Himself and placed in their hands by Moshe, is unprecedented.

The oral Torah does not ignore this list of names either. In the course of a lengthy discourse on the spies and their conduct, the Talmud (Sotah 34b) records the following in the name of the Amora Rabbi Yitzchak:  

“We possess a tradition from our forefathers that the spies were named after their actions, but only with one [name] has it survived with us: Setur ben Michael: Setur because he undermined [satar] the works of the Holy One, blessed be He; and Michael because he suggested that God [El] was weak [mach]”.  

Rabbi  Yochanan adds: 

“We can also explain Nachbi ben Vophsi: Nachbi because he hid [hichbi] the words of the Holy One, blessed be He; and Vophsi because he stepped over [pasa] the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He”.

The Torah Temimah comments that there is no doubt that the fathers of these two spies did not name their sons on account of their future misconduct. That would be simply impossible. Rather, the spies’ names caused them to err. He does not explain how this might happen but we are left to assume that even a relatively tenuous connection between a person’s name and his future conduct might enhance or facilitate the doing of good (or in this case bad) deeds.  This phenomenon is not confined to the columns of the Torah. Examples in real life include the late neurologist Lord Brain, New York-based litigation lawyer Sue H. Yoo and the principal engineer at the UK’s Water Research Centre, Andy Drinkwater. 

We do not know how the original explanations of the names of the other failed spies were lost and we are not invited to create our own. This rather suggests that the identification by name of these spies, and the Torah’s deliberate emphasis of their names and their status, is a practical example of Hillel’s teaching at Avot 1:13 that: “A name made great is a name (or reputation) destroyed”.  However, I have yet to find a commentator on Avot who links the spies to this mishnah. 

The success of the two good spies, Yehoshua and Kalev, is also recorded in the Torah by reference to their names. Yehoshua’s original name is Hoshea but he is “rebranded” though a prefix, the letter yud, which has the effect of incorporating God’s name into his own. The clue to Kalev’s success however lies in his father’s name, listed variously in written and oral sources as Yephunneh, Chetzron and Kenaz.  According to the Yerushalmi (Yevamot 7:10), his father’s name is both Yephunneh and Chetzron; the Talmud Bavli (Temurah 16a) then explains Yephunneh as indicating that Kalev turned (panah) from the counsel of the other spies.

It is obvious that the names of Yehoshua and Kalev, so strongly promoted with the narrative of spies, are not made great in order to illustrate Hillel’s maxim that a name made great is a name destroyed. A later teaching in Avot 2:8 and coincidentally also by Hillel, is that one who acquires a good name acquires it for himself alone, while one who acquires Torah acquires life in the world to come. This second mishnah could very well be applied to Yehoshua and Kalev. Both had great leadership qualities and outstanding reputations for honesty and integrity, yet when they died they could not take their reputations with them—and neither had a son who might be said to inherit it from him.

Caravanserais on the road: can you spot the Avot?

I recently came across the following powerful and Pirkei Avot-compliant passage in Moses Hyamson’s classic 1962 translation of Rabbenu Bachye ibn Paquda’s Chovot Halevavot, in the Sha’ar Cheshbon Hanefesh:

A company is travelling to a distant country on a difficult road where they have to stay at night in many caravanserais. The travellers have with them many beasts loaded with heavy burdens. The individuals in the caravan are few; each has in his charge many beasts which he has to load and unload frequently. If they will help each other in the loading and unloading and if the desire of each of them is to further the welfare of all of them and ease their burdens, and that all should share equally in rendering help and assistance—they will obtain the best results. But if they are divided in mind and will not agree on one plan, and each one solely endeavours to further his own interests, most of the travellers will become exhausted. These are the grounds … why the world becomes wearisome to its inhabitants, and work and trouble are redoubled in it for them. It is because everyone wants his portion of it for himself alone, and even a larger portion than what was appointed for him. And because each wants more than his proper share and seeks in it that which does not belong to him, the world withholds from each of them the portion allotted to him and does not give any of them his share. Consequently they are not pleased with it, and there is not a single one of them who does not grumble thereat and weep over it…

Rabbenu Bachye frequently draws on sources from both the Written and the Oral Torah, and this paragraph plainly alludes to many different teachings in Avot.

Here’s a challenge for the weekend: how many can you identify?

Curbing a "hearty" appetite

There's a somewhat enigmatic aggadic passage near the end of tractate Horayot (13b) which opens with the words:

Our Rabbis taught: Five things make one forget one's studies: (i) eating something from which a mouse or a cat has eaten, (ii) eating the heart of an animal, (iii) regularly eating olives olives, (iv) drinking water that was used for washing, and (v) washing one foot above the other...

Forgetting one's learning is a subject that also features in Pirkei Avot 3:10, where Rabbi Dosta'i beRabbi Yannai used to say in the name of Rabbi Meir:

Anyone who forgets even a single word of this learning, the Torah considers it as if he had forfeited his life. As it states "Only be watchful and take care for your soul, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen" (Devarim 4:9). One might think that this applies even to one whose studies were too difficult for him, so the verse continues "and lest [the things you have seen] be removed from your heart, all the days of your life." So a person is not liable for his soul until he deliberately removes them from his heart.

In volume 2 of his Chesed LaAlafim, Rabbi Eliezer Papo ties these two propositions together via the Arizal. In Sha'ar HaMitzvot, at the end of parashat Vayelech, the Arizal is quoted as issuing a serious warning against eating the heart of any animal, domestic or wild, or of any bird. The Kabbalistic reason is that part of the ru'ach behemit ("animal spirit") of the animal or bird might enter the person who eats it and cause him to forget his Torah. The Chesed LaAlafim also refers to the other causes of forgetfulness listed in Horayot.

Eating an animal's heart is not forbidden by halachah and the Shulchan Aruch/Rema explain how it can be prepared for consumption. However, the aggadic passage in Horayot affirms a wider principle: if something is deleterious to one's memory, or to the learning process as a whole, one should avoid its regular consumption.

In modern terms, this suggests that anyone who seriously and sincerely wishes to preserve his or her memory and/or learn Torah should not indulge in mind-altering substance abuse. Taking drugs or consuming alcohol may offer perceptions and sensations that are not available to the conscious mind, but they come at a price -- and that price might well involve memory loss and cognitive impairment. And if a person takes mind-altering substances in the knowledge that his ability to remember things may be damaged, it is as though he is deliberately and willingly accepting the possible consequences of his actions.

The aggadah in Horayot is expressed in terms that will probably seem quaint and unfounded to many modern readers, but the mishnah in Avot has a more direct message for us today.

A word on the Avot deRabbi Natan

Earlier today Matthew Herbert posed the following question for members of the Ask the Beit Midrash Facebook Group:

Regarding the non canonical Mishanic/Talmudic tractate - Avot D Rabbi Natan which is now included in printed editions of the Talmud. As one from the non canonical tractates such as Cutim, Gerim, Soferim which is pretty much a follow up version to the canonical tractate- Avot

What was the reason for writing such a tractate since the tractate Avot already exist?

Did the author compose it, in the hope that it would or may replace Avot in the rabbinic canon ?

I cannot understand why the book exist otherwise

Anyone has any scholarly ideas or scholarly responses to this ?

A number of comments and responses have already been posted. Interested members of the Avot Today are invited to pitch in and share their own thoughts on the topic. You can follow the discussion here.

My interest in the Avot deRabbi Natan (ADRN) was more than theoretical. When writing my book I had to decide what to do about this work, which duplicated or enlarged much of the content of Pirkei Avot at much greater length (ADRN spans 41 chapters, as against the 6 perakim of mishnayot and baraitot of Pirkei Avot).

In the end, I decided to refer to ADRN quite sparingly. Many people like to treat the ADRN as a sort of gemara on Avot, but if one reads its content one does not get the feeling that it is performing a process of refining and clarifying the meaning of the teachings in Avot that is comparable to the way the gemara works in relation to other mishnaic tractates. To me, at least, the ADRN felt more like a venerable body of source materials which Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi would have known and studied before redacting the altogether more succinct content of Avot that we have today.

There is a further point to note. One is that no teachings in Avot are recorded in the name of Rabbi Natan. This may have been a consequence of an unfortunate incident involving Rebbi's father Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel and Rabbi Natan (Horiyot 13b-14a) which resulted in a decision that neither Rabbi Natan's name nor that of Rabbi Meir were to be mentioned in connection with any halachic ruling given by them. While the gemara reflects a degree of ill feeling between these great sages, it need not provide the explanation for the absence of Rabbi Natan's teachings from Pirkei Avot: after all, quite a few eminent sages of the period are also absent from Avot, and other extremely important ones are scarcely cited at all.

Miriam's complaint: Drawing the wrong conclusion?

One of the most tantalising passages in the Torah's Book of Bemidbar tells of the punishment of Miriam for speaking about her younger brother Moses. The Torah narrative consists of 16 verses: Miriam and Aaron both observe that not merely Moses but they too are prophets; God hears, reprimands them, displays His anger with them, praises Moses’ qualities, explains why Moses’ prophecy is of a different order from theirs, then punishes Miriam with tzora’at, for which she must be quarantined for a week. Aaron is not explicitly punished.

Commentators on the Torah raise and discuss many questions, and there is much to ask. For example, why does the narrative twice mention that Moses married a Cushite woman, a detail that neither Miriam nor God appear to address? What indeed is a “Cushite woman”? Why is Miriam punished for speaking words that are true, and why does Aaron escape punishment? What has the statement that Moses was exceedingly humble have to do with the dialogue between God and his siblings and with the nature of his prophetic ability? And are Miriam and Aaron, who are themselves among the most righteous members of the generation leaving Egypt, not entitled to pass comment on their younger brother, given that they are his loyal supporters and are hardly seeking to overthrow him or challenge his authority?

Midrash picks up on this incident and fleshes it out with details not found in the Torah. Thus the description of Moses’ wife Zipporah as a “Cushite” was an allusion to her beauty. Moses was however no longer engaging in marital relations; his level of prophecy and intimacy with God was so high that he had to be constantly on-call, always ready to receive a divine message. Miriam and Aaron also received prophecy, but with neither the urgency nor the clarity with which Moses did so. Their prophecy therefore came only while they were asleep or in a trance. Being a humble and modest man, Moses did not tell his siblings that he received his prophecy at a higher level than they did; nor did he broadcast the fact that he had suspended marital relations with Zipporah, a state of affairs that Miriam deduced from Zipporah’s failure to wear ornaments or from overhearing Zipporah’s expression of sympathy for the wives of the 70 auxiliary prophets whom God asked Moses to select earlier in the same parashah. Miriam and Aaron spoke of the fact that they too were prophets on the assumption that, if they could still receive divine messages while conducting a normal marriage, it should have been possible for Moses to do likewise. This constituted lashon hara—inadmissible speech concerning another person—for which Miriam was punished, tzora’at being the punishment traditionally linked with lashon hara. Aaron escaped tzora’at, either because he was wearing priestly garments at the time or because, seeing Miriam in her afflicted state, he immediately applied the lesson to himself and repented.

There are numerous variations on the theme sketched out above, but it does represent a sort of midrashic consensus as to what the Torah narrative is about. What’s more, these midrashim seem to have cohered into a sort of Torah fact supplement. Ultimately, though, midrashim remain midrashim. If this was indeed what happened in factual terms, we might be asking why God chose to omit from His holy narrative so many facts that vest this episode with meaning.

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, in his Ma’amar al Ha’Aggadot, reminds students of midrashic and aggadic literature that it is capable of being understood on more than one level. At the simplest level it may be read as plain fact, and some aggadic material is so sober and credible when read in conjunction with the Torah that it can be hard to view it any other way. Other such material is so fantastic, or so greatly contradicted by other midrashic writing, that one struggles to view it as having any literal narrative content at all.  Where midrash is capable of being learned on more than one level, a person should be slow to say that one approach is “right” while another is “wrong”, particularly when we recall that the authors of midrash did not tell us how to read their teachings. In some cases we have to concede that we cannot learn from them at all: they are effectively written in code and we have lost the key.

Is there then a different way to extract a teaching from this story of Amram and Yocheved’s stellar offspring?  

In his pirush on the Torah, Malbim takes a fresh view of this episode. Yes, Moses has a beautiful wife but has separated from her—and, yes, while all three siblings are prophets only Moses has taken this serious and controversial step. Malbim however suggests that Miriam and Aaron were under a misapprehension.  They had no doubt as to Moses’ humility or his greater quality as a prophet and a servant of God. Where they went wrong is that they thought too highly of their brother. They believed that Moses’ prophecy was at such a supernal level that, to all intents and purposes, the word of God entered directly into his nefesh, his soul, and that his nefesh was so pure that it was quite unaffected by any tumah, ritual impurity, that might affect his body. On that basis he could continue to have a physical relationship with Zipporah without in any sense affecting his ability to receive communications from God on an ongoing basis, at any time of the day and night and regardless of what he was doing.

Malbim makes no reference to Pirkei Avot, but his explanation ties in wll with that tractate. What, in other words, was the mistake that Miriam and Aaron made? They believed that they had assessed Moses’ conduct appropriately and that they were entitled to do so. As prophets themselves they fulfilled Hillel’s condition of not judging another until one was in his particular position (Avot 2:5). On this basis they then assumed that Moses had unnecessarily separated from Zipporah when they should have realised that Moses had a good reason for doing so, a reason that it was not for him to disclose to them. They should have judged him lekaf zechut (Avot 1:6), giving him credit for a decision that they did not understand, rather than concluding that he had in any way done the wrong thing.

In taking this line, Malbim detaches from Miriam and Aaron the obloquy of facing divine displeasure and censure for exchanging words of lashon hara. Rather, they demonstrate both the importance of judging others favourably and the potentially serious consequences of failing to do so: when it comes to our attitudes towards our fellow humans, the wrongful thought can be as dangerous as the wrongful word.

Book launch: please do come!

If you are in Jerusalem on Tuesday 21 June, you are cordially invited to my book launch presentation (details in the notice that appears below).

This event should be fun. The object of the exercise is not to sell copies of the book but to sell the idea that Pirkei Avot deserves to be seriously studied and internalised. 

I can promise a bright and cheerful PowerPoint display and a chance to discuss plenty of exciting topics with fellow enthusiasts.

I'd be both delighted and honoured if members of this Group are able to attend.

If you do so, please make yourself known to me at the end so that I can say "hello".

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Taking a partner

One of the three teachings of Nitai HaArbeli at Avot 1:7 is אַל תִּתְחַבֵּר לָרָשָׁע ("don't cleave to a wicked person").

Most commentators on this part of the mishnah discuss the damage that a person suffer, directly or by association, when he or she keeps bad company. The rasha (the wicked person) is contrasted unfavourably with the tzaddik (the righteous person), whose good qualities will ideally rub off on you. So long as you can tell a tzaddik from a rasha, you should have no problems.

Rabbi Eliezer Papo, author of the popular mussar book Pele Yo'etz, also wrote a three-volume work on halachah, the Chesed LaAlafim. In this work he takes time out from laying down the law in order to pursue at very great length a subject that is clearly of great interest to him -- Jewish business ethics.

In the Chesed LaAlafim (vol 1, siman 156, se'if 26) he relates Nitai's teaching to the choice of a business partner. Do not enter into partnership with a bad person, he argues, even if that person is apparently successful and everything is going right for him. You will never be able to trust him. R' Papo does not insist that one go into a partnership only with a tzaddik, which would be a most impractical piece of advice, but only that one avoid someone whose morals and business ethics are poor. Later in the same siman he adds two further criteria for a suitable business partner. First, that person must be open in his dealings and not do anything behind the other partner's back Secondly, that person must be open and above-board when he accounts for his trading activities.

Reading this advice, I was reminded of a discussion I had with my late father, a lawyer, some 50 years ago. He was at that time in partnership with another lawyer. One of the small but regular income streams of their practice came from fees received from people who needed to swear an affidavit (a written statement confirmed by oath or affirmation, for use as evidence in court).

My father's partner told him that he should not go to the trouble of putting the fees received through the partnership accounts since they were of such a trivial nature. This left my father wondering: if my partner tells me not to put some of the money I earn through the firm's accounts, what income might he not be putting through the firm's accounts?" That's not to say that my father's partner was actually a rasha, but I could see how his apparent generosity towards my father generated suspicion and was not conducive to mutual trust.

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 May 2022:

Monday 30 May: Mysterious Manuscript from Maine: an unsigned hand-written commentary on Pirkei Avot has been found in Auburn, Maine. Does anyone know about its author or origin?

Friday 27 May 2022: Partygate, or When Lies Won't Work, Try Telling the Truth: there are seven ways (Avot 5:9) to tell a wise man from an immature clod. One involves acknowledging the truh. How does this apply to the British prime minister's Christmas party scandal? 

Tuesday 24 May 2022: Pirkei Avot: A Users' Guide. This is my new book -- three whole volumes dedicated to the Ethics of the Fathers and what an ancient Jewish ethical guide can teach us today.

Sunday 22 May 2022: Breakfast with Bachye, or When a Leader Leads Others Astray: how does one deal with proof verses drawn from the Tanach? Should they be allowed to narrow the focus of mishnayot of Avot?

Thursday 19 May 2022: More on mazikim. Many people still believe that demons exist, but they have no place in Avot according to the late Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz.

Tuesday 17 May 2022: Rendering unto Caesar: Is there any connection between Rabbi Elazar Ish Bartota's teaching about extreme charity and a famous New Testament quote?

Monday 16 May 2022: Praying for Putin? A famous mishnah in Avot tells us to pray for the welfare of the government. How far does this apply?

Sunday 15 May 2022: Foundation of Faith. The late Rabbi Norman Lamm's thoughts on Pirkei Avot have been edited by Rabbi Mark Dratch and published by the OU.

Friday 13 May 2022: "How to handle a woman" -- or oneself? A surprise answer in a rabbinical "Meet and Greet" session has some fascinating practical repercussions for those who live by Avot.

Tuesday 10 May 2022: The steamship, not the cemetery: fighting fascism with Avot. A slender 1945 translation and commentary on Avot by the then Chief Rabbi of the British Empire sheds fascinating light on the Jewish response to institutional evil.

Sunday 8 May 2022: Recommended reading: not so easy. A request for suggestions as to which commentary on Avot one should read should not be answered without first giving serious thought to what the prospective reader really wants.

Friday 6 May 2022: Thinking, fast and slow -- the case of the charity appeals. I received two appeals in the post, one of which looked quite unmeritorious when compared with the other. Would a closer look change my opinion?

Thursday 5 May 2022: Meiri on Avot: a new translation. Feldheim and Rabbi Yehudah Bulman have combined to produce a handsome and highly legible English translation of a venerable classic commentary.

Tuesday 3 May 2022: It's only worms. Pirkei Avot features no fewer than three species of worm. Why, and do any of them have any teeth?

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Avot Today blogposts for April 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for March 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for February 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for January 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for December 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for November 2021 here