MORE ON STICKING TOGETHER: THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE HERD

We recently discussed Hillel’s teaching at Avot 2:4 

אַל תִּפְרוֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר

Do not separate from the community.

In doing so, we assumed that this advice was addressed to any individual who might otherwise wander off, break away from the community and do his (or her) own thing. This, after all, is how these words have been taken by generations of sages and scholars. But there may be more to them.

I have just come across a curious book, Lessons of Leadership from Pirkei Avot. This turns out to be, as its subtitle explains, “A collection of Divrei Torah from the Rabbeim and Students of Yeshivat Hakotel”.  These divrei Torah are mainly in English, though those relating to the baraitot that comprise the sixth and final perek are all in Hebrew. The contributions are of uneven quality, reflecting both the range of scholarship and comprehension of the writers and the fact that some of the mishnayot and baraitot of Avot are manifestly easier to explain in terms of leadership than are others.

While reading Ariel Axelrod’s short explanation of this mishnah, I found myself thinking about something that had not occurred to me before. Where a person breaks away from a Jewish community, this need not mean that he becomes a self-contained unit. In many, if not most cases today a person who breaks with a Jewish community frequently joins another community: this may even be the public at large, with all its virtues and, sadly, vices—and which is a community that in one sense embraces all the communities that lie within it.  Maybe it is the person who travels in the opposite direction, breaking off from a wider community, doing teshuvah or converting to Judaism, who is the real culprit in terms of אַל תִּפְרוֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר

It is also not unknown for the tzibbur to split. This can happen in all sorts of scenarios. A large congregation which prays in accordance with Ashkenazi minhagim and traditions may also be home to a small number of Sefardim who eventually break away when their numbers are sufficient to sustain their own minyan. It would seem harsh to point an accusatory finger at them and complain that they were somehow in breach of Hillel’s precept.

A more difficult case might be where a group of shul members decide to set up an earlier Shabbat morning minyan rather than pray later with the rest of the congregation. This is often seen as divisive, especially where the depletion of the later minyan has an adverse impact on the enjoyment of its davening experience. But how divisive can this be said to be, when the ‘breakaway’ affects only one minyan out of an entire week’s worth?

Where does this leave us? It is axiomatic that unity is strength, and that the many can achieve what an individual cannot. We also not only tolerate but respect divergent paths that lead to the same destination, as is evidenced by the variety of religious practices we find between and within Ashkenazi, Sefardi and Temoni traditions and in the multifarious branches of chasidut. But these groups, so different on the surface, share certain fundamentals: these include belief in God, the primacy of His Torah and the notions of reward and punishment. Where different groups are travelling to the same destination, but taking different routes, we should not be hasty to shout out אַל תִּפְרוֹשׁ מִן הַצִּבּוּר.

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