Real learning and a stroll in the park

Many readers are uninspired by the standard explanations of Rabbi Yaakov’s (or, according to other texts, Rabbi Shimon’s) blistering attack on the Torah student who allows himself to be distracted from his learning. The mishnah in question, Avot 3:9, goes like this:

הַמְהַלֵּךְ בַּדֶּֽרֶךְ וְשׁוֹנֶה, וּמַפְסִיק מִמִּשְׁנָתוֹ וְאוֹמֵר: מַה נָּאֶה אִילָן זֶה, מַה נָּאֶה נִיר זֶה, מַעֲלֶה עָלָיו הַכָּתוּב כְּאִלּוּ מִתְחַיֵּב בְּנַפְשׁוֹ

One who walks along the way and studies, and interrupts his studying to say, "How beautiful is this tree!", "How beautiful is this ploughed field!"---the Torah considers it as if he had forfeited his life.

Commentators have poured scorn on the unfortunate talmid who interrupts study of the eternal, spiritual Torah for the fleeting pleasure gained by admiring the physical, material dimension while simultaneously squandering precious and irreplaceable time that could have been devoted to getting closer to God through the sole route available to His chosen people, that of learning Torah.  To be fair, this might very well have been precisely what the author of the mishnah intended—particularly if he were Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, a Torah genius with an uncompromising attitude towards the objective of learning. But if this is so, the meaning is plain and needs no commentator to explain it.

Here’s an admittedly fanciful reinterpretation of the mishnah which, I believe, readers will not find elsewhere. It runs like this.

We start this mishnah by noting the insertion of two words that rarely attract attention. It’s not just any old tree and field that we learn of here, but this tree and this field. So which tree and field are we talking about?  I suggest that the tree is the Torah itself: the etz chaim for those who grasp it and shelter forever within its all-embracing shade. The field is where one ploughs, sows one’s seeds and then gathers one’s grain, to sustain oneself when learning Torah.

So much for the tree and the field. What is the way? Avot tells us, at 2:13. There Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai instructs his five top talmidim to go out, to leave the portals of the Beit Midrash, and see what is the derech yesharah, the right way for a person to travel in life. His choice lies between the tree and the field. Remember, the tree represents a life of total and exclusive immersion in Torah, as Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai advocates at Berachot 35b, while the field represents a life of Torah moderated by the need to reap God’s reward for keeping the mitzvot by harvesting one’s crops and addressing one’s physical needs, as advocated by Rabbi Yishmael.

“Walking along the way” in our mishnah is a challenge because it is a demand that Rabban Yochanan’s talmidim exercise their own judgement and educate themselves, free from the constraints of the Beit Midrash: let them look at a life of total Torah learning from the outside, as it were, and contrast it with a life of Torah im derech eretz—Torah combined with a livelihood.

The talmid in our mishnah takes this path. Along this path he sees the tree of Torah and the field of Torah im derech eretz. He praises them both, since both are worthy of praise. So why does he deserve to forfeit his life? Because he stops in the middle of his real-life learning exercise and says “Torah is beautiful, Torah im derech eretz is beautiful!” but he either does not or cannot choose one over the other and therefore chooses neither. He therefore has no path, no derech in life that he can follow.

Thoughts, anyone?

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The kindness you give, the kindness you crave

At Avot 2:1 Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi opens with a piece of advice that accurately reflects the impossibility of defining in real terms what it means to do the right thing:

אֵיזוֹ הִיא דֶֽרֶךְ יְשָׁרָה שֶׁיָּבוֹר לוֹ הָאָדָם, כָּל שֶׁהִיא תִּפְאֶֽרֶת לְעֹשֶֽׂיהָ וְתִפְאֶֽרֶת לוֹ מִן הָאָדָם

Which is the derech yasharah, the right path that one should choose for oneself? Any that is considered praiseworthy by the person who acts upon it and also gains him the praise of others.

For those who like to know where they stand, who enjoy the binary features of halachah (“Is it permitted or forbidden?”, “Is it pure or impure?”) and who appreciate the formal, predictable structure of prayer and Temple services, the pursuit of the right path in Avot epitomises the vague, amorphous nature of middot. Not everyone is comfortable with the thought that getting things right in one’s real life is so often a question of “it all depends”.

Here’s an example drawn from real life of the uncertainty of best behavioural practice, one that highlights the need to get things right.

Let me introduce you to two fine Jewish women. We shall call them Wendy and Mabel. Both care deeply for their fellow humans and are actively involved in providing help and support for those who are ill or recovering from illness. But their perspectives on this noble task are quite different.

Wendy is a firm advocate of ‘tough love’. She believes that, even if a person is unwell or in recovery, they should be expected to do as much as possible to help themselves, particularly in terms of feeding, washing and dressing themselves. In her view, this enables the people for whom she cares to retain their human dignity. She respects their autonomy and treats them as adults, only substituting her own effort for theirs when she sees that they are in difficulty. This approach, she feels, also speeds their recovery and makes it easier for them to regain their position in the world once they are fully functional.

Mabel takes the opposite view. For her, anyone who is ill or recovering needs to be removed as far as possible from having to look after themselves. They both need and deserve to be wrapped in cotton wool. The important thing is to get them better as quickly as possible by maximising the support they need when they are at their most needy. If this means pampering them and insulating them from responsibility for their own maintenance and well-being, so be it.

Which approach is the right one, the derech yasharah?  A serious student of best Jewish conduct might well ask this question. But anyone who does so will be demonstrating a failure to understand the difference between halachah and middot.

The truth is that both approaches are potentially correct, but the facts of each situation will determine which one should be adopted.  Some patients resent being nannied while others need and even crave it.  The same applies to non-patients too, in many social scenarios. For example, some women appreciate and enjoy a spot of old-fashioned courtesy when a man holds a door open for them, while others regard it as behaviour that is sexist, patronising and insulting.   

Whether one or other approach is the right one is decided by the recipient of the care. For some, Wendy will be harsh and inconvenient, while others will feel that Mabel is suffocating them with kindness. It can also be the case that a person is a Mabel-style maximalist when giving help and support to another, but a Wendy-type when it comes to receiving it.

Ultimately, before performing any putatively good act on or on behalf of another person, it pays to know one’s ‘victim’.

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