ONLY HALF A GOLEM?

Pirkei Avot is a tractate that embraces many forms of human life. We find within it a microcosm of society—Jewish the chasid and the tzadik, the bold and the bashful, the brilliant and the boorish, the wise and the wicked, the confident and the confused—and, at Avot 5:9, the golem.  This is how the mishnah reads:

שִׁבְעָה דְבָרִים בְּגוֹלָם וְשִׁבְעָה בְּחָכָם, חָכָם: אֵינוֹ מְדַבֵּר לִפְנֵי מִי שֶׁגָּדוֹל מִמֶּֽנּוּ בְּחָכְמָה וּבְמִנְיָן, וְאֵינוֹ נִכְנָס לְתוֹךְ דִּבְרֵי חֲבֵרוֹ, וְאֵינוֹ נִבְהָל לְהָשִׁיב, שׁוֹאֵל כְּעִנְיָן וּמֵשִׁיב כַּהֲלָכָה, וְאוֹמֵר עַל רִאשׁוֹן רִאשׁוֹן וְעַל אַחֲרוֹן אַחֲרוֹן, וְעַל מַה שֶּׁלֹּא שָׁמַע אוֹמֵר לֹא שָׁמַֽעְתִּי, וּמוֹדֶה עַל הָאֱמֶת, וְחִלּוּפֵיהֶן בְּגוֹלָם

There are seven things that characterize a golem, and seven that characterize a wise man. A wise man does not speak before one who is greater than him in wisdom or age. He does not interrupt his fellow's words. He does not hasten to answer. His questions are on the subject and his answers to the point. He responds to first things first and to later things later. As for what he did not learn, he says "I did not learn." He concedes the truth. With the golem, the reverse is the case.

Precisely that the anonymous author of our mishnah intended when he deployed that term we do not know, and Jewish folklore has invested the word with a secondary meaning that has largely blotted out its original meaning. Be that as it may, the mishnah invites us to ask an obvious question: can there be such as thing as half a golem?

Rabbi Yisroel Miller (The Wisdom of Avos) raises this issue when he writes:

“The mishnah … seems to imply that there is no middle ground between wisdom and golem-ness, though perhaps possessing some but not all of the seven characteristics is an in-between state”.

The mishnah is correct to imply that there is no middle ground between being a chacham and a golem, as a purely definitional matter. The Bartenura bases his understanding of the concept of ‘golem’ from the term ‘golmei keilim’ in the Mishnaic tractate of Keilim, where it describes vessels that are incomplete because part of the manufacturing process remains to be done. Applying this idea to the golem in our mishnah, a person is a golem whether he has ticked only one of the seven boxes, as it were, or managed six. It is his incompleteness that gives him his status. Tosafot Yom Tov supports this position, additionally citing Rambam in support. In modern parlance we might refer to our Mishnaic golem as someone who is “not quite the finished article”.

Adoption of this approach to defining ‘golem’, the word need not be a pejorative term at all. Our golem may be an intellectual, who adopts a generally respectful attitude towards others with whom he associates and whose mode of thinking is accurate and precise—but who has yet to cultivate the self-restraint necessary to resist the urge to interrupt others.

There is an interesting corollary to our understanding of what it means to be a golem: the process of becoming a chacham is clearly reversible. Just as a person can acquire and then master the seven qualities listed in the mishnah, so too can he lose them. From my personal observation and experience in the secular world, teaching in a university, I am convinced that it requires a great deal of effort, patience and will-power to hear another person out without interruption when you know (and therefore assume that you understand) more than they do—particularly when that other person is a junior colleague. It is equally hard to resist the temptation to answer a question with a response that is spontaneous and witty but sadly lacking in references or support.

So how would I address Rabbi Miller’s point? I would conclude that there is a middle ground between wisdom and golem-ness, and it is occupied by the wise man who sometimes lets his standards slip.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

Is Pirkei Avot prejudiced against pride?  It is universally accepted by our ancient Sages that גַאֲוָה (ga’avah, pride) is a damaging and negative quality that should be eliminated from the personality of every individual. Yet Pirkei Avot, the closest we have to a practical handbook on how to improve our behaviour, is strangely coy about it. Jealousy, lust and the desire for honor head the list of bad qualities, but pride is another matter.

The word גַאֲוָה is not mentioned at all, while the word that comes closest to it גְּבוֹהָה, is semantically similar but unrelated. So the closest that Avot gets to condemnation of pride is this anonymous mishnah at 5:22 (with proof verses omitted):

כָּל מִי שֶׁיֶּשׁ בּוֹ שְׁלֹשָׁה דְבָרִים הַלָּלוּ, הוּא מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ, וּשְׁלֹשָׁה דְבָרִים אֲחֵרִים, הוּא מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע. תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ: עַֽיִן טוֹבָה, וְרֽוּחַ נְמוּכָה, וְנֶֽפֶשׁ שְׁפָלָה. תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע: עַֽיִן רָעָה, וְרֽוּחַ גְּבוֹהָה, וְנֶֽפֶשׁ רְחָבָה. מַה בֵּין תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ לְתַלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע, תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ אוֹכְלִין בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה, וְנוֹחֲלִין הָעוֹלָם הַבָּא

…אֲבָל תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע יוֹרְשִׁין גֵּיהִנֹּם וְיוֹרְדִין לִבְאֵר שַֽׁחַת…

Whoever possesses these three traits is from the disciples of our father Abraham; and whoever possesses three other traits is from the disciples of the wicked Balaam. The disciples of our father Abraham have a good eye, a meek spirit and a humble soul. The disciples of the wicked Balaam have an evil eye, a haughty [גְּבוֹהָה] spirit and a gross soul. What is the difference between the disciples of our father Abraham and the disciples of the wicked Balaam? The disciples of our father Abraham benefit in this world and inherit the World to Come […] The disciples of the wicked Balaam inherit Gehinnom and descend into the pit of destruction […].

This does not mean that we should encourage pride. Both the Tanach (in Mishlei) and the apocrypha (in Ben Sira) explicitly condemn it. So does our oral Torah: the Gemara at Sotah 5b makes that clear. Rav Nachman bar Yitzchak argues for the zero option:  a person must totally eliminate pride. Rav Chiyya bar Ashi is prepared to tolerate “an eighth of an eighth” of pride on the part of a talmid chacham, just enough to preserve his dignity to the point at which others will not think less of his teaching.

So why is Avot so quiet about this middah? If any reader of this post has an explanation, I invite them to share it here.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.

GROWTH OPPORTUNITY AND TOXIC POSITIVITY

Last week I came across a striking sentence in Rabbi Mordechai Ginsbury’s book, The Jigsaw Puzzle of Life: a Rabbi’s Perspective. In his chapter bearing the title “From Bitter to Better: Silver Linings and Positive Outcomes” he writes:

It would be an extremely foolish and unfeeling person who would try to extend comfort to an individual suffering in the grip of a painful, traumatic episode by suggesting that “this is a growth opportunity and you should be grateful for it”.

On the face of it, suggestions of this nature do seem brutal. But are they? And should they be?

One of the most popular genres of literature in our times is the inspirational book. This genre, which clearly sells well in airport terminal bookshops, directs its advice to that morsel of personality that occupies a space in our psyche and tells us that, one way or another, we simply don’t have what it takes to conquer the challenges that face us. These books start by telling us that the solution to our problems lies within ourselves. Once we understand our power to overcome adversity, all we have to do is identify our problems, face them fair and square, declare that nothing is going to get the better of our indomitable spirit and then, quite simply, succeed.

Turning the pages of these inspirational texts, it is hard to miss stories and anecdotes describing the courage and the determination of our fellow humans who have overcome their disadvantages and indeed their personal tragedies, turning the minuses in their lives into glorious pluses. The tradition of telling these stories is probably as old as time themselves, and many are embedded in our own Jewish tradition. Even apart from that, in my own childhood I was told many times of the courage of Douglas Bader, a heroic fighter pilot even after he suffered the amputation of both legs, and Helen Keller, who overcame the loss of her sight and hearing as a baby yet refused to be beaten by these crushing disabilities. I sometimes felt not so much inspired by these stories as inadequate and intimidated.

What does Pirkei Avot have to offer the scenario depicted by Rabbi Ginsbury? Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar (Avot 4:23) addresses the issue thus:

אַל תְּרַצֶּה אֶת חֲבֵרֶֽךָ בְּשַֽׁעַת כַּעֲסוֹ, וְאַל תְּנַחֲמֵֽהוּ בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁמֵּתוֹ מֻטָּל לְפָנָיו, וְאַל תִּשְׁאַל לוֹ בְּשַֽׁעַת נִדְרוֹ, וְאַל תִּשְׁתַּדֵּל לִרְאוֹתוֹ בְּשַֽׁעַת קַלְקָלָתוֹ

Do not appease your friend in his moment of rage; do not comfort him while his dead still lies before him; do not question him about a serious commitment at the moment he is making it; and do not try to see him in his time of degradation.

It would be shortsighted to regard this teaching as pointing to four isolated instances in which one should keep one’s mouth shut and refrain from saying anything. Rather, there is an overarching principle: when dealing on any occasion and under any circumstances with other people whose feelings are likely to be strained, stop yourself and think whether it is wise to say anything at all.

If we look at the four situations in Rabbi Shimon ben Elazar’s mishnah, what do we see? There is something of a pattern:

·         Placating someone who is angry is the pursuit of peace, a policy endorsed by Hillel at Avot 1:12;

·         Comforting the bereaved, nichum aveilim, is not just a mitzvah but an established practice in every civilized society;

·         Questioning the wisdom of a friend’s vows and commitments is one of the responsibilities of any true friend towards another. We should not allow ourselves to be without such a friend and should make an effort to acquire one (Yehoshua ben Perachyah, Avot 1:6);

·         Supporting someone who has just suffered shame or humiliation is a true measure of friendship, as indicated immediately above.

Each of things listed is good in itself. However, the benefit of each of these actions is conferred not by its performance alone but by the combination of the action and the right time for performing it.

Going back to Rabbi Ginsbury’s example, the advice to a friend who has experienced a personal disaster, that “this is a growth opportunity and you should be grateful for it”, may well be perfectly true. The skill is in knowing when to say it—just as it is important to know when to tell a person, “Don’t worry, everything that happens is for the best” and when to refrain from doing so. Interviewed in Gila Ross’s new book, Unbroken, mental health counsellor Rachel Tuchman warns against the phenomenon of what she calls “toxic positivity”—a term I’ve not previously encountered in the writings of commentators on Avot. This she describes as going one step beyond healthy optimism, effectively denying that people are permitted to grieve and to experience pain. The principles of Pirkei Avot, though expressed very differently, would appear to be in agreement.

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.