REWARDING MITZVOT—WITH WHAT?

Ben Azzai (Avot 4:2) tells us:

הֱוֵי רָץ לְמִצְוָה קַלָּה, וּבוֹרֵֽחַ מִן הָעֲבֵרָה, שֶׁמִּצְוָה גוֹרֶֽרֶת מִצְוָה, וַעֲבֵרָה גוֹרֶֽרֶת עֲבֵרָה, שֶׁשְּׂכַר מִצְוָה מִצְוָה, וּשְׂכַר עֲבֵרָה עֲבֵרָה

Run to pursue a light mitzvah, and flee from a transgression. For a mitzvah leads to another mitzvah, and a transgression leads to transgression. [This is] because the reward of a mitzvah is a mitzvah, and the reward of transgression is transgression.

What does it mean to say that the reward of a mitzvah is a mitzvah? Taken at face value, every divine commandment serves a dual capacity. Before it is fulfilled, it is an instruction from God that requires our compliance. After we comply with it, it serves as a hook to drag behind it another commandment which, in turn, requires our compliance. Since compliance is a meritorious act that we perform in accordance with God’s will, it earns us a divine reward. But is that all?

Rabbeinu Yonah forcefully rejects the notion that the only reward for compliance with a mitzvah is a mitzvah. He writes:

לא חס ושלום שזהו שכרה שאם כן מה שכר יש לו ולא כן הדבר כי שכרה קיים הוא לעולם הבא. אלא שר"ל שפרי מצוה מצוה ואוכל פרותיה בעולם הזה שמסייעת אותו לעשות מצוות אחרות ונמצא הקרן מתרבה וקיים לעולם הבא. וזה שנאמר (ישעיה ג' י') אמרו צדיק כי טוב כי פרי מעלליהם יאכלו

“Heaven forbid that this should be considered the entire reward—for if so, what reward would remain? Rather, the true reward is preserved for the World to Come. The meaning is, however, that the "fruit" of a commandment is the commandment itself; one enjoys its fruits in this world insofar as it assists one in performing other commandments, thereby causing the principal—the merit itself—to multiply and endure for the World to Come. This is the meaning of the verse (Yeshayah 3:10): "Say of the righteous that it shall be well with them, for they shall eat the fruit of their deeds"

This explanation is quite in keeping with the general approach in Avot that rewards for mitzvot are left for the World to Come, for which reason we are encouraged to trust that God will deliver them (Rabbi Elazar ben Arach at Avot 2:17, Rabban Gamliel at Avot 2:21). And, while we know there will be rewards, we shouldn’t make our service to God by performing His precepts conditional on the receipt of those rewards (Antigonos Ish Socho, Avot 1:3).  

At Avot 4:22 Rabbi Yaakov teaches that, while even an hour of spiritual bliss in the next world is greater than all the pleasures of this world, an hour of penitence and performance of mitzvot in this world is better than the next world in its entirety. If the spiritual bliss of the next world is the reward for fulfilling commandments in this one, but the performance of those commandments is in some sense superior, we might consider that it is the expectation of receiving the rewards that we are consciously not working for that is itself in some sense a reward.

It may seem strange that we are asked both to believe with confidence that we will receive a payback for our mitzvot and to perform them with the mindset of one who is not setting out to receive that payback, but in reality our Jewish selves are trained to cultivate a bifurcated, contrary mind-frame and this is just one example. We are to understand that everything is minutely controlled and orchestrated by God but that nonetheless we have been entrusted with bechirah, free will. We are told to not to judge others at all, to judge them favorably and to judge them critically. We must prioritize the learning of Torah over everything else, and that it is not the learning of Torah but how we put it into practice that counts, and so on.

Ultimately we should not be mercenaries in search of terrestrial or celestial booty. We should comply with God’s instructions with a mindset of obedience, acceptance, altruism and love. These are qualities that, if we understand and prioritize them, should help us cultivate better relationships with God and with humankind.

We are complex creatures who need different mindsets and different guidance in different situations. Much of the content of Avot is directed towards the cultivation of different responses that the appropriate in different situations. Reward and punishment are never far from the surface of Jewish life, any more than they are in non-Jewish life, and here in our mishnah Ben Azzai reminds us that what constitutes a reward for Torah compliance should be seen in purely material terms.

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TERRESTRIAL TRAVAILS, CELESTIAL SUPPORT

Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov (Avot 4:13) makes it worthwhile for us to perform Torah commandments, and definitely detrimental to our wellbeing to transgress any of its prohibitions. He teaches:

הָעוֹשֶׂה מִצְוָה אַחַת, קֽוֹנֶה לּוֹ פְּרַקְלִיט אֶחָד, וְהָעוֹבֵר עֲבֵרָה אַחַת, קֽוֹנֶה לּוֹ קַטֵּגוֹר אֶחָד, תְּשׁוּבָה וּמַעֲשִׂים טוֹבִים כִּתְרִיס בִּפְנֵי הַפּוּרְעָנוּת

Whoever fulfils one mitzvah acquires for himself one advocate, but whoever commits commits one transgression acquires against himself one accuser. Repentance and good deeds are as a shield against retribution.

Who are these advocates and accusers? In a rare and welcoming display of unanimity, our major commentators agree that the mishnah does not refer to members of the legal profession but to angels.

Back in the day, the proposition that angels would become involved in the process of judging individuals was not controversial. Our sages were frankly not too exercised by the topic. Rambam in his Pirush Mishnayot might have appeared to suggest that the two advocates are human, though Rabbi Chaim Drukman (Avot leBanim) makes it plain that this is not what Rambam means.

Once speculation as to the nature of the angelic advocates begins, there is no obvious end to it. Is divine judgement influenced by the number of angels on each side or by the importance of the mitzvah or aveirah that created them? And did these angels absolutely determine the fate of the person whose life had come under scrutiny, or were they of a purely advisory nature, leaving the ultimate verdict to the one true Dayan ha’Emet—the Almighty himself?

If our commentators were interested, they too could have involved themselves in what sort of angels these ones were and, if they were created only for the sake of pleading for or against us, what happened to them after the divine decision was reached? Did they simply cease to exist, or were they repurposed for other angelic duties, or did they perhaps ‘specialize’ in advocating in relation to specific commandments and offences? But they were not interested in these lines of investigation, and this itself is instructive.

Why is this so? Because, if the function of the tractate of Avot is to enable its students to improve themselves, we must study this mishnah in the light of that objective and ask: “how is Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov actually telling us to behave?”

Rabbi Yitzchak Magriso (Me’Am Lo’ez) goes for the moral point immediately. The lesson here is that you can’t bribe God with a mitzvah in order to cancel out or “buy” an aveirah. Presumably, the bigger the mitzvah you perform in order to gain the right, as it were, to commit a transgression, the bigger and more powerful is the kategor who will challenge you in the World to Come.

We can also start from the perspective of a hypothetical Jew; let’s call him Yossi.  This Yossi is an ordinary fellow. He is not a rabbi or a scholar, a mystic or a visionary. He goes to shul on Shabbat and a few times a week when it’s convenient. He has a stable job, a wife and 2.4 children. He could be anyone.

One day Yossi finds a wallet in the street. It contains a handsome sum of money, as well as a little card on which is printed the name and contact details of its owner.  He is conflicted. If he takes the wallet and keeps the cash, he can take his family to Disneyland—but that is theft. Alternatively, he can forgo the fun of the fair, return the wallet with its contents: much less pleasurable, but this is a mitzvah. What to do?  

This is where Pirkei Avot comes in. Happily, Yossi remembers this mishnah. He can’t see any angels. He can’t hear them either. In fact, he is not even sure that he believes in them at all. But he does believe in God and he accepts that one day he, like the rest of us, will be called to account for what he has done in his lifetime. So he closes his eyes for a moment and tries to imagine that he is standing by himself in the Celestial Court of Appeal. What sort of defence could he raise against the accusation of theft, and what sort of praise might he receive if he took the painful step of being honest and handing back the cash? Who might speak up for him, and who might be against? What might they say, and how might they say it? At this point, Yossi—particularly if he has a vivid imagination—may feel that returning the wallet might be the preferable course of action.

A further, non-angelic point to ponder in our mishnah is that it is repentance and good deeds—not Torah—that provide a shield against punishment. Why might this be? Torah learning is actually implicit in the teshuvah process, according to the fifth blessing in the weekday Amidah prayer:

הֲשִׁיבֵֽנוּ אָבִֽינוּ לְתוֹרָתֶֽךָ וְקָרְ֒בֵֽנוּ מַלְכֵּֽנוּ לַעֲבוֹדָתֶֽךָ וְהַחֲזִירֵֽנוּ בִּתְשׁוּבָה שְׁלֵמָה לְפָנֶֽיךָ: בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה הָרוֹצֶה בִּתְשׁוּבָ

Bring us back, our Father, to your Torah, and bring us close, our King, to your service, and return us to You in complete repentance. You are blessed, God who wants repentance.

This shows that Torah learning is already incorporated into the mechanism for achieving repentance.

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GOD’S CHILDREN: A BLESSING OR A BURDEN?

At Avot 3:18 Rabbi Akiva burrows into three verses from Tanach in order to prove how dear are humans—and especially Jewish humans—to God. The mishnah runs as follows:

חָבִיב אָדָם שֶׁנִּבְרָא בְּצֶֽלֶם, חִבָּה יְתֵרָה נוֹדַֽעַת לוֹ שֶׁנִּבְרָא בְּצֶֽלֶם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: כִּי בְּצֶֽלֶם אֱלֹהִים עָשָׂה אֶת הָאָדָם.

 חֲבִיבִין יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁנִּקְרְאוּ בָנִים לַמָּקוֹם, חִבָּה יְתֵרָה נוֹדַֽעַת לָהֶם שֶׁנִּקְרְאוּ בָנִים לַמָּקוֹם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: בָּנִים אַתֶּם לַייָ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם.

חֲבִיבִין יִשְׂרָאֵל שֶׁנִּתַּן לָהֶם כְּלִי חֶמְדָּה, חִבָּה יְתֵרָה נוֹדַֽעַת לָהֶם שֶׁנִּתַּן לָהֶם כְּלִי חֶמְדָּה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: כִּי לֶֽקַח טוֹב נָתַֽתִּי לָכֶם, תּוֹרָתִי אַל תַּעֲזֹֽבוּ

Beloved is man, for he was created in [God’s] image; with even greater love it was made known to him that he was created in [God’s] image, as it says, "For in the image of God He made man" (Bereishit 9:6).

Beloved are Israel, for they are called children of God; with even greater love it was made known to them that they are called children of God, as it is stated: "You are children of the Lord your God" (Devarim 14:1).

Beloved are Israel, for they were given a precious article; with even greater love it was made known to them that they were given a precious article, as it is stated: "I have given you a good advice; My Torah, do not forsake it" (Mishlei 4:2).

This is another instance of a mishnah that appears to consist of “take it or leave it” statements with which one may agree or disagree but which don’t appear to interfere with our daily lives. As I have written in previous posts, the Bartenura maintains—and no commentator argues with him—that the function of Pirkei Avot is to teach moral precepts and ethical guidance for our own conduct in the course of our lives. That leaves no room for decorative statements that seem to be there for their own sake.

I fond myself thinking about this issue when I began reading an abandoned copy of Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky’s short tract BeChochmah Yivneh Bayit, which turns out to be guidance for young and presumably Chasidic chatanim as they stand at the threshold of married life.  How does one begin to broach this important but delicate subject?

Rabbi Berezovsky opens with words of foundational advice: בָּנִים אַתֶּם לַייָ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם, "You are children of the Lord your God”.  But, while Rabbi Akiva tells us that these words reflect God’s love for us, Rabbi Berezovsky takes them in a different way. Yes, we are God’s children—but being a child implies a duty towards one’s parent, in this case God.

Wha duty is this? The answer is derived from another verse from Proverbs: מוּסַר יְהוָה, בְּנִי אַל-תִּמְאָס  (Mishlei 3:11). Conventionally translated as “My son, do not despise the mussar of God”, these words are taken to be advice given by a father to a son. However, here they are given a Chasidic spin. The speaker is taken to be God Himself and He is speaking to His children, commanding them not to despise His mussar. Since all Jews are God’s children (בָּנִים אַתֶּם לַייָ אֱלֹהֵיכֶם), God is speaking individually to each one of us and He is telling us to respect and pay attention to His moral guidance.

So Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Berezovsky are pulling this verse in opposite directions. But do they actually disagree with one another? In practice, probably not. Let us return to the first of Rabbi Akiva’s verses: כִּי בְּצֶֽלֶם אֱלֹהִים עָשָׂה אֶת הָאָדָם. It is axiomatic that this verse cannot be taken literally for two obvious reasons. First, so far as we believe and understand, God has no perceptible image and cannot be seen. This means that even if He has an image, we would not know what it is. Secondly human beings are remarkably diverse in their own appearance: they share no “image”. This had led our sages to conclude that “image” here refers to qualities that God possesses and lets us perceive, and which in one form or another we can perceive in ourselves. Just as God is merciful, we can be merciful; just as God is kind, we can be kind, and so on (Shabbat 133b).

Turning to the third verse in Rabbi Avika’s mishnah, the counsel that God has given us and which we are charged not to forsake is not only the written Torah but the web of complex social and behavioural norms that govern our conduct towards others as well as towards God and indeed ourselves.

Putting this all together, we now see two things.

One is that Rabbi Berezovsky’s first advice to the young bridegroom is to be conscious at all times that, though he may feel he is the master of his new home—and indeed of his new wife—he is perpetually bound by his paternal ties to his Creator, who expects him to act with dignity, propriety, kindness and loyalty, as befits a prince, the son of the King.

The other is that Rabbi Akiva’s verses are there to be internalized and acted upon. Because God loves His human creations, He has given them the means to emulate Him. These means are encapsulated in the Torah He has given them, and since they are His children, they are fully accountable to Him.

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