I once found myself in the middle of a curious din Torah when I was working at the London Beth Din. This case arose from a dispute concerning the correct valuation of a business whose partners had decided to go their separate ways. The legal issues, which were simple, were not even contested. But the parties quarrelled over the figures. It transpired that the partnership kept no fewer than three sets of accounts. One, in English and prepared by their accountant, was submitted annually to the tax authorities. The second, in Hebrew and based on the Jewish calendar, recorded not only their trading figures and expenses but also their charitable donations. A third set of accounts, in Yiddish and out of sight of both the tax authorities and their religious consciences, was the set of figures that ostensibly dealt with their personal input and output. The Beth Din was asked to rule as to which set(s) of accounts should govern their settlement.
Accounts and accounting play an important role in stimulating the Jewish
conscience, particularly around the season of Rosh Hashanah, the Day of
Judgment, and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Unsurprisingly therefore, the idea
that, once our lives have ended, we must account to God for what we’ve done
with them is not unique to Pirkei Avot. It does however feature in two
significant mishnayot in that tractate. In Avot 3:1 Akavya ben Mahalalel warns
us:
הִסְתַּכֵּל בִּשְׁלֹשָׁה דְבָרִים,
וְאֵין אַתָּה בָא לִידֵי עֲבֵרָה. דַּע מֵאַֽיִן בָּֽאתָ, וּלְאָן אַתָּה
הוֹלֵךְ, וְלִפְנֵי מִי אַתָּה עָתִיד לִתֵּן דִּין וְחֶשְׁבּוֹן. מֵאַֽיִן
בָּֽאתָ: מִטִּפָּה סְרוּחָה. וּלְאָן אַתָּה הוֹלֵךְ: לִמְקוֹם עָפָר רִמָּה
וְתוֹלֵעָה. וְלִפְנֵי מִי אַתָּה עָתִיד לִתֵּן דִּין וְחֶשְׁבּוֹן: לִפְנֵי
מֶֽלֶךְ מַלְכֵי הַמְּלָכִים הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא
[Translation] Reflect upon three
things and you will not come to the grip of transgression. Know from where you
came, where you are going, and before whom you are destined to give a judgement
and accounting. From where you came—from a putrid drop; where you are going—to
a place of dust, maggots and worms; and before whom you are destined to give a
judgement and accounting—before the supreme King of Kings, the Holy One,
blessed be He.
Then, in a thunderous teaching at Avot 4:29 which concludes that perek,
Rabbi Elazar HaKAppar says:
הַיִּלּוֹדִים לָמוּת, וְהַמֵּתִים לִחֳיוֹת, וְהַחַיִּים לִדּוֹן, לֵידַע
וּלְהוֹדִֽיעַ וּלְהִוָּדַע שֶׁהוּא אֵל, הוּא הַיּוֹצֵר, הוּא הַבּוֹרֵא, הוּא
הַמֵּבִין, הוּא הַדַּיָּן, הוּא הָעֵד, הוּא בַּֽעַל דִּין, הוּא עָתִיד לָדוֹן.
בָּרוּךְ הוּא, שֶׁאֵין לְפָנָיו לֹא עַוְלָה, וְלֹא שִׁכְחָה, וְלֹא מַשּׂוֹא
פָנִים, וְלֹא מַקַּח שֹֽׁחַד, וְדַע שֶׁהַכֹּל לְפִי הַחֶשְׁבּוֹן. וְאַל
יַבְטִיחֲךָ יִצְרָךְ שֶׁהַשְּׁאוֹל בֵּית מָנוֹס לָךְ, שֶׁעַל כָּרְחָךְ אַתָּה
נוֹצָר, וְעַל כָּרְחָךְ אַתָּה נוֹלָד, וְעַל כָּרְחָךְ אַתָּה חַי, וְעַל
כָּרְחָךְ אַתָּה מֵת, וְעַל כָּרְחָךְ אַתָּה עָתִיד לִתֵּן דִּין וְחֶשְׁבּוֹן
לִפְנֵי מֶֽלֶךְ מַלְכֵי הַמְּלָכִים, הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא
[Translation] Those who are born will
die, and the dead will live. The living will be judged, to learn, to teach and
to comprehend that He is God, He is the creator, He is the maker, He is the one
who understands, He is the judge, He is the witness, He is the plaintiff, and
He will judge. Blessed is He, for before Him there is no wrong, no forgetting,
no favouritism, and no taking of bribes; know, that everything is according to
the reckoning. Let not your heart convince you that the grave is your escape;
for against your will you are formed, against your will you are born, against
your will you live, against your will you die—and against your will you are
destined to give a reckoning and an account of yourself before the king, king
of all kings, the Holy One, blessed be He.
These two mishnayot summarise the functional utility of keeping good
accounts. The first offers the daunting prospect of God both auditing them and
then ruling on their validity can provide a potent threat and impel a person
towards avoidance of those thoughts, words and actions that go against not just
God’s word but also common decency. The
second reminds us uncomfortably that, even more effectively than ChatGPT on
steroids, God can instantly and effortlessly recall, contextualise and analyse
every item of relevant data—including much that we are not aware of ourselves. If
there are two ways of relating to God, through love and through fear, we know
that no-one enjoys submitting accounts: these mishnayot deal with fear.
Though Avot does not state it explicitly, the message is conveyed that
our accounts should be accurate and correct when we submit them: no deliberate
omissions or falsifications, no disguising personal perks as legitimate
expenses, and so on. We are obliged to accept the truth. But equally we are
only human and cannot, for as long as we live, trust ourselves (Avot 2:5).
We are urged to accept that our accounts of our actions in our
lifetimes will never be, and can never be, accurate and objective. Even if we
were capable of viewing our every word and deed in a completely dispassionate
manner, the question still remains as to whether what we view is what is
actually there. Rabbi Chaim Friedlander’s Siftei Chaim, in the first
volume of his Middot veAvdut Hashem, repeatedly hammers home the
qualitative difference between the world we live in now, a world of “right and
wrong”, and the primordial world into which Adam and Chava were created, the
world of “true and false”. True and false are portrayed as absolutes, while
“right and wrong” are relative terms. Putting it simply, what’s true for me must
be true for you, but what’s right for me may be wrong for you.
The corollary of this distinction is that we live in a world of sheker,
falsity. Only the world to come possesses the quality of absolute truth. For
us, living here and now, whatever one sees, experiences or reasons out is
tinged with falsehood. But when we reach the world to come, there we will be
treated to truth in all its glory, and it is there that we will give our
account of ourselves and be judged on it.
Irrespective of whether one accepts these distinctions as axiomatic or
discards them as midrashic myth, the fact remains that we live in this world
and have no means of perceiving anything that lies beyond the limits of our own
lives. If Akavya ben Mahalalel and Rabbi Elazar HaKapar were aware of this, as
they surely were, their teachings must be read in light of their expectation
that, however well we prepare to justify ourselves before our Maker, we will
always fall short of the account that He has already prepared for us. Our
encounter with God at this point may well thus be less of a trial and more of a
posthumous education for us. Perhaps the scenario is more like this. We tell
God what we have done and why we have done it, where we have gone wrong and
where we think we got it right. He then marks our card, as it were, and shows
us how close we got, in the world of sheker, to the emet, the
ultimate truth.
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