In pursuit of inner peace

When I saw the title of Rebbetzin Shira Smiles’ article in Torah Tidbits 1571 (Parashat Chukkat)—“Cheerful Countenance”—I immediately assumed that she was writing about the teaching of Shammai, who urges us at Avot 1:15 to greet everyone with a cheerful countenance.  I was however quite wrong. The subject of her essay was a teaching by Shammai’s colleague and contemporary, Hillel.

At Avot 1:12 Hillel exhorts us to be talmidim, disciples of the peace-loving Aaron, in our actions as well as our attitude:

הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת, וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה

Be among the disciples of Aaron—love peace and pursue peace, love people and draw them close to the Torah.

Unlike many people who write on Aaron’s peace-making proclivities, Rebbetzin Smiles does not recite the well-known stories of his shuttle diplomacy between hostile parties in order to encourage them to make peace. She does however allude to it in the course of her bringing an unusual explanation of Hillel’s teaching by Rabbi Tzvi Meyer Zilberberg. She writes:

“One does [not] have to seek out arguments to make peace. Rather, one should love peace and aspire to develop it within himself. One should do his best to avoid conflict with others and look for the goodness in people around him. To be happy for others and not to be jealous of others’ successes. When we develop feelings of love and peace within ourselves it will radiate peace and goodness to others as well”.

The sentiments expressed here cannot be faulted. Avoidance of conflict with others is inherent within at least two mishnayot of Avot that press us to cultivate humility (4:4, 4:12) and another that emphasises the value of self-control (4:1). Likewise, we learn that it is good to share the happiness of others (the Torah specifically points to Aaron as demonstrating this quality) and not to be jealous of them (4:28).  Developing feelings of love and peace within ourselves is also an important part of our personal growth: this is founded on rejoicing at our lot (4:1, 6:6). Nonetheless I have some reservations about this paragraph and whether it represents Hillel’s intentions.

The classical commentators (including Avot deRabbi Natan, Rambam, Bartenura, Me’iri, Rashi, R’ Chaim Volozhiner) send the student straight to Aaron’s role as an intermediary between disputants. Indeed, Rabbenu Yonah adds that it is not enough to love peace in one’s heart: there has to be action too.

Some modern writers do however connect Hillel’s teaching to the quest for inner peace. Thus R’ Abraham J. Twerski (Visions of the Fathers) contrasts the pursuit of inner peace through fulfilling one’s mission in life with the illusory and transitory inner peace that can be achieved through drug abuse and the quest for money. For R’ Reuven P.Bulka (Chapters of the Sages) the pursuit of physical real-world peace is only a preliminary to a greater ideal: Hillel’s mishnah is depicting a progression from peace merely as a societal norm to a fundamentally more meaningful peace based on “a love of humankind and a concern for its development” in order to give life direction and purpose.  I’m sure that Hillel would have little objection to this fine sentiment, but wonder whether he would have recognised his teaching within R’ Bulka’s words.

Ultimately, nothing can alter the fact that, on a simple reading of Hillel’s teaching, his words do not appear to focus on our inner growth, particularly since they finish with an encouragement to draw other people to the Torah. If Hillel had been addressing the need to acquire inner tranquillity and then radiate it out so that it can be felt by others, he could surely have found a clearer way to express himself. Among modern commentators R’ Yaakov Hillel (Eternal Ethics from Sinai) writes of the importance of attracting others to the Torah through demonstrating humility and contentment with one’s lot—but he does so in the context of a description of Hillel’s qualities rather than as an explanation of his teaching in this mishnah.  

I also have trouble with the statement: “When we develop feelings of love and peace within ourselves it will radiate peace and goodness to others as well”. As an ideal, it is wonderful. However, I respectfully doubt that it is an efficacious means of pursuing peace in empirical terms. However much love and peace I feel within myself and radiate to the best of my ability, it has never once created peace between my quarrelling grandchildren and is certainly less effective than distracting them with a promise of an ice cream. And, outside of family life, I can say much the same about my experiences of dispute resolution in a more adult context.

Ultimately, I believe that Hillel was focusing on real-life disputes that demanded a peaceful solution for the sake of the peace of mind of the disputants, not on the inner growth of the peace-seeker—but I’m prepared to be persuaded that I’m wrong.

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Peace and Pinchas -- again

In my previous post, Picking the Right Fight, I discussed why Hillel (Avot 1:12) urged us to emulate Aharon—and not Moshe or Pinchas—when loving peace and seeking it. After citing episodes from the Torah that suggest that Moshe, for all his greatness, was not particularly successful at pursuing peace, I wrote:

If Hillel’s citation of Aharon in this mishnah invites us to draw comparison with Moshe, it can also be said to do so with regard to his grandson, Pinchas. It is with Pinchas that God establishes His covenant of peace (Bemidbar 25:12) after he restored order and halted a plague through his decisive action (Bemidbar 25:6-8). However, while the name of Pinchas is eternally bound in with peace, this is a form of peace-making that, we are taught, is not for us to emulate. So, taking their track records into account, it would hardly have been appropriate for Hillel to urge us to be talmidim of either Moshe or Pinchas if peace was our objective.

Today, in the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle, I read the following:

During the Three Weeks (17 Tamuz – 9 Av) we remember the destruction of both Holy Temples in Jerusalem. The First Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians and the Second Temple by the Romans. This is an appropriate time to recall and to follow the examples of Aaron and Pinchas. When we do so, we will avoid the errors that led to destruction, and can we learn the lessons that can bring true peace to our world [my italics].

I cannot believe that any of us today is entitled to follow the example of Pinchas. According to the Talmud Yerushalmi (Sanhedrin 9:7):

תני שלא ברצון חכמים ופינחס שלא ברצון חכמים אמר ר יודה בר פזי בקשו לנדותו אלולי שקפצה עליו רוח הקודש ואמרה וְהָיְתָה לּוֹ וּלְזַרְעוֹ אַֽחֲרָיו בְּרִית כְּהֻנַּת עוֹלָם וגו

It is taught: This was not met with the approval of the Sages. But could Pinchas have acted against the approval of the Sages? Rabbi Yudah bar Pazi said: “They sought to excommunicate him, if the Holy Spirit had not alighted upon him and said “And he and his seed after him will possess a covenant of eternal priesthood etc…’”

With respect to the author of the piece in the Pittsburgh Jewish Chronicle, I think that Pinchas’ killing of Cozbi and Zimri raises two separate issues here. The first is whether he acted correctly. The second is whether we should emulate him and/or follow his example.

Pinchas’ action goes plainly against the norms of conduct by which we are told to act. It is an extrajudicial execution that complies with none of the procedures stipulated by the Written and Oral Torah and by which we are bound. This same action is however not only sanctioned but rewarded at the highest possible level, by God Himself and lies above both human understanding and criticism. Pinchas therefore acted correctly.

Our generation today is not gifted with the sort of direct divine inspiration that guided the hand of not only Pinchas but other worthy personalities of his generation (for example Betzalel). While extrajudicial action is permitted in order to save a life and kill a rodef, an attacker, the circumstances in which we may do so are strictly limited, and if you or I were to act like Pinchas and claim that we were infused by the ruach hakodesh, I doubt if anyone would accept our plea. This, in short, is why I feel that, while we should study and seek to understand the actions of Pinchas, we should not seek to emulate them. 

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Picking the right fight

The second most frequently cited teaching online over the first half of 2023 comes from Hillel, who says (Avot 1:12):

הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת, וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה

“Be among the disciples of Aharon—love peace, pursue peace, love people and draw them close to the Torah”.

Like every other Tanna, Hillel is careful with his choice of words, using only enough of them to convey his meaning. This can be frustrating at times. For example, when Hillel asks (at Avot 1:14) “If not now, when?”, Torah scholars have offered many quite different explanations. Careful selection of words however offers a chance for us to ask questions that offer the prospect of discovering a fuller, richer meaning.

Why, we can ask, does Hillel tell us both to be among the disciples of Aharon, a man whose people-friendly commitment to peace and Torah is legendary, and to pursue the same ends as he did? If he had only said, “Be among the disciples of Aharon”, it would be difficult to think of any other ways we could all learn from him, given the stellar peacemaking profile that midrash paints of him. And if Hillel had only said, “love peace, pursue peace, love people and draw them close to the Torah”, what in addition might the Aharon name-check add to our understanding of how we should comply?

One possibility is that Hillel, by mentioning the name of Aharon, is inviting us to make a discreet comparison between him and his elder brother Moshe. Both were at the helm of the nascent Jewish nation in the long march from slavery to the borders of the Promised Land; both were also masters of the newly-given Torah, Moshe being pre-eminent. Their aims and objectives were identical. However, their record in peace-making was not.

Moshe’s first attempt to resolve conflict was a unilateral intervention on behalf of the underdogs, causing the death of an Egyptian (Shemot 2:11-12). His second attempt, this time in a fight between two fellow Jews, resulted in one of them turning on him (Shemot 2:13-15) and his subsequent flight to Midian. Once there, he rescued the daughters of Yitro by driving away the shepherds who were preventing them watering their sheep (Shemot 2:16-19)—once again, the term “driving away” suggests the use of actual physical force or at least the threat of it. After the crossing of the Reed Sea and the Giving of the Torah, Moshe still struggles with situations in which there is a breach of the peace: these include the rebellion of Korach and his followers (Bemidbar 16:29), where he prays for them to suffer an unusual death, as well as the public outrage over the flagrant coupling of Cozbi and Zimri, where Moshe was not able to act decisively.  Aharon in contrast seems to have fared better. Though his response to the people’s demand for a physical replacement for the absent Moshe compromised the Torah and led to the sin of the Golden Calf, he was able to hold the nation together, and when Korach challenged both him and Moshe in the episode mentioned above, he held his peace and did not inflame the already volatile situation by saying anything.

If Hillel’s citation of Aharon in this mishnah invites us to draw comparison with Moshe, it can also be said to do so with regard to his grandson, Pinchas. It is with Pinchas that God establishes His covenant of peace (Bemidbar 25:12) after he restored order and halted a plague through his decisive action (Bemidbar 25:6-8). However, while the name of Pinchas is eternally bound in with peace, this is a form of peace-making that, we are taught, is not for us to emulate. So, taking their track records into account, it would hardly have been appropriate for Hillel to urge us to be talmidim of either Moshe or Pinchas if peace was our objective.

The Divrei Yoel of Satmar Rebbe R’ Yoel Teitelbaum offers a further perspective. Loving peace and pursuing it are not absolutes, he explains: they are means to a greater end because they must themselves be compatible with the Torah. Where a dispute is between righteous, God-fearing people, there is an imperative to make peace that is lacking where the disputants are not. No example is given but it is easy to think of one: a fight between thieves over the allocation of their spoil. Not only may one not love such nefarious people; one may even be required to hate them (the mitzvah of hating the wicked is complex and nuanced: for a useful and accessible source-based discussion of this topic see R’ Dovid Rosenfeld, “Should We Hate the Wicked?”, here).

According to the Divrei Yoel, Aharon had the ability to discern whom he should draw close and from whom he should keep his distance—and this is no easy matter. This is because the yetzer hara, human inclination, tempts us to misidentify disputants and their motives. In short, we should emulate Aharon and learn, from his experiences, to pick the right disputes to settle and the right battles to fight.

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The pursuit of peace: a personal recollection

In the first chapter of Pirkei Avot, Hillel teaches that we should be like the talmidim (pupils) of Aaron: "love peace, pursue peace; love people and bring them close to the Torah" (Avot 1:12). The oral tradition gives examples of how this can be done, examples that look simple enough in theory but which in practice are very difficult, if not almost impossible, for us to achieve (e.g. shuttling between two enemies and telling each how much the other wants to be friends).

I have only once seen anyone successfully put this precept into practice and genuinely succeed. This is what happened.

Back in the 1980s, the once-distinguished Jewish community in Sunderland had already began its terminal decline. The town's two synagogues had started to struggle with their minyanim and it was apparent that the community was no longer large and strong enough to support both.

The problem was that the two synagogues were very much in competition with one another and there was a great deal of antagonism, much of it long-standing, between them. One had a larger membership, the other a smaller but more religiously committed one. To make things more difficult, several members of each had left their respective shul following a bitter disagreement and had joined the other. The senior members of each synagogue accepted that Sunderland was now able to support just one place of worship, but the only other thing they agreed on was that it was the other shul, and not theirs, that should close.

This was the point at which Rabbi Shammai Zahn, who headed the Sunderland Yeshivah (now in Gateshead) stepped in. He was at first sight an unlikely peacemaker. Many members of the larger synagogue's board of management distrusted him since he was plainly Haredi and their membership consisted mainly of "middle-of-the-road" Jews. One said openly at a board meeting, "I'm not having that Ayatollah coming here to tell us what to do". The smaller shul with the more committed membership was however elated, convinced that R' Zahn -- who had long been sympathetic to their cause -- would somehow make sure that the other shul would close.

What happened next was quite remarkable. For getting on for half a year, R' Zahn shuttled back and forth between representatives of the warring factions. He gave his support to no-one and told no-one what to do. His principal tactic was to act as a sympathetic and patient listener to all of the concerns, real and imagined, that were articulated by the protagonists in both camps. He treated them with dignity and respect, asking them to forget the past for a while and explain what sort of future they envisaged. Eventually, it dawned on both sides that some sort of compromise would have to be reached, and at this point R' Zahn simply offered to help, in any way he could, to facilitate and implement whatever the two sides could contemplate living with.

The longed-for compromise was finally achieved. The shul with the smaller, more committed membership would be the one to go, but its members would play a highly active part in the running of the other shul. Honour was satisfied on both sides and the town was assured of a reliable minyan for several more years. R' Zahn sought no credit for his involvement but it was good to hear some very magnanimous things being said about him, behind his back, by those who a year previously would have regarded him as a hostile meddler -- including the gentleman who had previously insultingly labelled him an "Ayatollah".

I was particularly impressed with the outcome given that, when a shul disappears, its honorary officers and functionaries are left without title and status -- and that, on both sides, people with a substantial sense of their own self-importance were dangerously close to slipping into "over my dead body" mode.

Chasing after peace -- or chasing peace away?

A recent post on Yeshiva World ("Love Peace and Chase Peace") discusses an unusual explanation of one of the best-known teachings in Pirkei Avot, Hillel's mishnah on the peace-seeking qualities of Aharon the High Priest. It reads, in relevant part: 

Aharon was known as the “oheiv shalom ve’rodeif shalom oheiv es habriyos u’mekarvan laTorah– one who loved peace and pursued peace; loved people and brought them close to Torah” (Pirkei Avos 1:12). Aharon always sought to bring about reconciliation between bickering parties.

A novel interpretation from the Ksav Sofer shows us that at times true love and concern for another necessitates breaking people apart. Not making friendships but ending them. Not making peace but even making war.

The chase is on!

The Ksav Sofer (first piece in Parashas Emor) writes that while Aharon, acting as an oheiv shalom, attempted to make peace between people, he also acted as a rodeif shalom, as someone who chased away peace! That is why the Mishnah in Avos does not say, “rodeif achar ha’shalom – who chased after peace,” but “rodeif shalom – who chased peace.”

As the Mishnah in Sanhedrin (8:5) writes: “Dispersal of the wicked brings benefit for them and for the world, but dispersal of the righteous brings misfortune for them and for the world. Convening of the wicked brings misfortune for them and for the world, but convening of the righteous brings benefit for them and for the world”.

While I can see both the logic and the attraction of this interpretation, we should remember that this is not the usual meaning of this mishnah and that the weight of contrary readings for over nearly two millennia should not be lightly discarded.