Rabbi Eliezer's good eye

At Avot 2:13, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai sets his five leading talmidim a test:

צְאוּ וּרְאוּ אֵיזוֹ הִיא דֶּֽרֶךְ טוֹבָה שֶׁיִּדְבַּק בָּהּ הָאָדָם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶֽזֶר אוֹמֵר: עַֽיִן טוֹבָה

[Translation] “Go out and take a look: what is the good path that a person should stick to?” Rabbi Eliezer says: “A good eye”.

After the other four give their answers, Rabban Yochanan, at Avot 2:14, sets a further test:

צְאוּ וּרְאוּ אֵיזוֹ הִיא דֶּֽרֶךְ רָעָה שֶׁיִּתְרַחֵק מִמֶּֽנָּה הָאָדָם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶֽזֶר אוֹמֵר: עַֽיִן רָעָה

[Translation] “Go out and take a look: what is the bad path that a person should distance himself from?” Rabbi Eliezer says: “An evil eye”.

Again, the other four talmidim offer their answers. As it turns out, while none of the answers is “wrong”, Rabbi Eliezer’s two answers are not those preferred by his teacher. But that is not what this post is going to discuss. Instead, we will consider what is meant by “good eye” and “evil eye” in this context.

Most English versions of Avot are content to translate “good eye” and “evil eye” literally. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks is a notable exception here, qualifying the terms as “good eye [generosity of spirit]” and “evil eye [envy” respectively.

But there is literally more to this than meets the eye. The words עַֽיִן רָעָה (“evil eye”) resurface in the fifth perek, at Avot 5:16, in an anonymous mishnah that opens like this:

אַרְבַּע מִדּוֹת בְּנוֹתְנֵי צְדָקָה: הָרוֹצֶה שֶׁיִּתֵּן וְלֹא יִתְּנוּ אֲחֵרִים, עֵינוֹ רָעָה בְּשֶׁל אֲחֵרִים. יִתְּנוּ אֲחֵרִים וְהוּא לֹא יִתֵּן, עֵינוֹ רָעָה בְּשֶׁלּוֹ. יִתֵּן וְיִתְּנוּ אֲחֵרִים, חָסִיד. לֹא יִתֵּן וְלֹא יִתְּנוּ אֲחֵרִים, רָשָׁע.

[Translation] One who wants to give but does not want others to give—is begrudging of others. One who wants that others should give but does not want to give—begrudges himself.

This translation, which is more or less identical as between ArtScroll and Chabad.org, is more meaningful than literal translations along the lines of “his eye is evil towards others” and “his eye is evil as regards himself”. Again Rabbi Lord Sacks distinguishes himself by qualifying the word “begrudge” and fleshing it out as “begrudges this merit to others” and “begrudges this merit to himself”, the merit in question being that which a person earns through making charitable donations.

Let’s return to Rabbi Eliezer’s reference to good and evil eyes. He is using the same term, “evil eye”, as is found in the anonymous mishnah about the giving of charity. But does this meaning of “evil eye” in that later mishnah fit the context? Is the counsel that a person should not begrudge the merit that another person might enjoy through performing a good deed a piece of general advice that can steer a person through the vicissitudes of daily existence?  

The Maggid of Kozhnitz makes a connection between these two mishnayot. Apart from his major work, Ahavat Yisrael, he also wrote a short commentary on Avot, Avot Yisrael, which came to light in Lemburg (Levov/Lviv) in 1866, more than half a century after his death. There, at Avot 2:13, he pins Rabbi Eliezer’s use of the term “good eye” to a verse in Proverbs that reads: “One with a good eye will be blessed, for he has given of his bread to the poor” (Mishlei 22:9). Taken literally, this citation does not immediately appear to endorse the meaning of “good eye” in Avot 5:16 but the Maggid appears to widen its application, the giving of bread to the poor being a reflection on a person’s magnanimous frame of mind. Why is the person with the “good eye” blessed? Because, being happy with his lot and rejoicing in it, he displays happiness. This happiness is a sign that he is less concerned with gashmiut, wealth and property, than he is with his role as an instrument in the execution of God’s will when giving to others.  This is the path of contentment with what one has—and this, in Rabbi Eliezer’s view, is the right attitude a person should cultivate as he or she faces each day.

Demonstrating a consistent approach, the Maggid applies the notion that “good eye” is synonymous with magnanimity at Avot 2:15—a mishnah that does not even mention the term—where the same Rabbi Eliezer teaches that one’s friend’s kavod (“honour”) should be as dear to him as his own. If one is truly magnanimous, one will not begrudge the honour and prestige to which others are entitled, a view that extends magnanimity from the field of gashmiut to that of social relations.

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Good eye, good heart

In my previous post (“Finding that elusive good path”, 5 December 2022), I discussed the mishnah (Avot 2:13) in which Rabban Yochanan asks his five leading talmidim to “go out and take a look at the good path to which a person should adhere”. Rabbi Eliezer suggests a “good eye”, Rabbi Yehoshua “being a good friend”, Rabbi Yose HaKohen “being a good neighbour”, Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel offers “ability to see what’s coming” and Rabbi Elazar ben Arach proposes “a good heart”. Rabbi Elazar ben Arach’s answer is preferred to the other four on the basis that it is broad enough to embrace them too.

To the modern English reader, if the terms “good eye” and “good heart” are taken literally they convey no relevant meaning in this context. I therefore explained “good eye” as “generosity” and “good heart” as “spirit of magnanimity”.  Eagle-eyed reader Claude Tusk swiftly spotted that, in an earlier post, I had explained that the term “good eye” referred to "magnanimity".  I had indeed done this because I was struggling to find blanket terms both for “good eye” and “good heart” in such a way as to enable the first of these terms to fall within the scope of the second.

I’ve just been looking at what I wrote in my book on these two concepts. First, there is the “good eye”, which I describe in terms of both generosity and magnanimity:

The “good eye”

Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus’ recommendation for the good path was that a man should have a “good eye.” This phrase probably means that he should view others in a generous and magnanimous way, sharing their happiness at their good fortune rather than being jealous of it and, when judging their actions, giving them the benefit of the doubt. The opposite of this expression, a “bad (or evil) eye,” is the term used by Rabbi Eliezer’s fellow talmid Rabbi Yehoshua to indicate ill-will towards others. That same term is also employed in a later Mishnah to describe both the attitude of someone who wants to give to a charity but does not want others, by giving too, to share the reward for their generosity, and to someone who wants others to give so generously that he need not give at all. It is possible that, in making this suggestion, Rabbi Eliezer was looking not out into the wide world but deeply into his own soul. From what we know of him – which is a considerable amount more than we know of most Tannaim – magnanimity and generosity were not among his defining characteristics. Identifying this, he may have proposed the path of the “good eye” out of recognition that this should be his own personal route to redemption [emphases added; footnotes omitted].

 I then turn to the “good heart”:

A “good heart”

If the words of Rabbi Elazar ben Arach are to be given their literal meaning, they must be interpreted widely enough to embrace the words of all four other talmidim. On this basis, the “good heart” may refer to the heart as a metaphor for the focal point of a person’s disposition, just as in English one might describe a person as being “good-hearted.” Rabbi Elazer’s suggestion would therefore be a counsel of perfection: in short, the best path is to do what is right at all times in a warm, friendly and accommodating manner, being slow to anger, quick to forgive, willing to share, foresighted and prudent in all his dealings, and as happy at the good fortune of others as he would be at his own [footnotes omitted].

Rabbi Reuven Melamed (Melitz Yosher) mentions a comment of the mashgiach of Ponevez, who treats “good friend” and “good neighbour” as meaning having a good friend or neighbour rather than being one. If one wishes to maintain one’s relationship with such a person, one will be influenced by that person into following their path. In contrast, the advice of Rabbis Eliezer and Elazar appears to be to follow a path of moral excellence that is not determined by others. This is not however the case, he adds, since it is only by learning from the example of others—presumably good friends and good neighbours—that one is able to latch on to the virtues of generosity and magnanimity which those rabbis prescribe.

There should be no doubt that magnanimity is a broader category of good-heartedness than is generosity. For example, where two protagonists are engaged in a game of chess, if the loser can feel genuine warmth towards the winner and share the latter’s happiness at winning, he is said to be magnanimous in defeat. To say that he is generous might rather suggest that he gave the game away.

As ever, readers’ comments and perspectives are welcome.

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