When it's time to raid the fridge...

For many contemporary Jewish scholars, the Baraita at Avot 6:4 is challenging. It reads like this:

כַּךְ הִיא דַּרְכָּהּ שֶׁל תּוֹרָה: פַּת בְּמֶֽלַח תֹּאכֵל, וּמַֽיִם בִּמְשׂוּרָה תִּשְׁתֶּה, וְעַל הָאָֽרֶץ תִּישָׁן, וְחַיֵּי צַֽעַר תִּחְיֶה, וּבַתּוֹרָה אַתָּה עָמֵל, אִם אַתָּה עֽוֹשֶׂה כֵּן, אַשְׁרֶֽיךָ וְטוֹב לָךְ, אַשְׁרֶֽיךָ בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, וְטוֹב לָךְ לָעוֹלָם הַבָּא

In translation: “This is the way of Torah: Bread with salt you shall eat; water in small measure you shall drink; and on the ground you shall sleep. Live a life of hardship and toil in Torah. If you do so, "You are fortunate and it is good for you" (Psalms 128:2): you are fortunate in this world, and it is good for you in the World to Come.

Happily, this baraita is authored by an anonymous Tanna, so there is no-one to whom one might complain that this is surely a disincentive to study Torah in an age in which, in the Jewish world, affluence is endemic, obesity poses greater health risks than malnutrition and material comforts are ubiquitous. However, for those who are of a naturally ascetic mind-frame, this all makes perfect sense. Food is a battleground between the spiritual and the material. By training oneself to consume the barest minimum, one physically promotes the value of the soul over that of the body. As for sleep, in midrash and in Jewish scholarly tradition there is a powerful case for fighting this enemy. One who is asleep is like one who is dead: it is impossible to learn Torah while held snugly in the arms of Morpheus. Hardship too is to be cherished, since every difficulty placed before a person’s quest to master Torah merely amplifies the reward to be gained by overcoming it.

Bearing this in mind, I was surprised to see a comment on this baraita in one of my recent favourite commentaries, the Tiferet Tzion of R’ Yitzchak Ze’ev Yadler.  He explains that, when the Baraita says “This is the way of Torah”, it means that one should be particular to follow this way at the point at which one is travelling the path to attain one’s Torah knowledge—but not when one has already merited to receive the crown of Torah, as it were. On gaining Torah scholarship, he explains, it becomes perfectly acceptable to sweeten one’s lifestyle and attend to one’s bodily needs for the good of one’s soul.

R’ Yadler brings a source for this proposition from a midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 34:3), which relates the deeds of Hillel HaZaken—a rabbi of impeccable credentials and, during his younger days, a man who faced both poverty and almost unendurable hardship in seeking to learn Torah. This midrash, which is actually pinned to a verse from Proverbs (Mishlei 11:17: “One who is kind to his own soul is a man of lovingkindness [to others]”), goes like this. After Hillel finished his teaching for the day, he said goodbye to his talmidim and walked off, but they walked along with him and asked him where he was going. He told them he was off to do a good turn to a guest in his house. When they remarked that he seemed to have a guest in his house every day he explained what he meant: the “guest” was his soul and the “house” was his body—here today and gone tomorrow, so definitely in need of some good sustenance. The midrash does not exactly say that Hillel went off for a slap-up meal, but R’ Yadler senses an implication that something sweet and tasty was on his menu.

I did enjoy this commentary, but still have some anxieties about it. One is that it does seem to be somewhat odds with the majority of interpretations of Avot 6:4. The other is that it would surely be a brave person who can indicate, by words or deeds, that he has somehow acquired enough learning to qualify for the crown of Torah and deserve his piece of cake.