Showing posts with label Retribution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Retribution. Show all posts

Sunday 11 August 2024

Don't despair!

With Tisha be’Av, our national day of mourning, fast approaching, it can be difficult for committed Jews to focus on the happier and more positive things in life. So here’s a post that is designed to break the unrelieved sadness that many of us are experiencing.

In the first chapter of Avot we learn three things from Nittai Ha’Arbeli:

הַרְחֵק מִשָּׁכֵן רָע, וְאַל תִּתְחַבֵּר לָרָשָׁע, וְאַל תִּתְיָאֵשׁ מִן הַפּוּרְעָנוּת

(i) Distance yourself from a bad neighbour, (ii) do not join up with a wicked person, and (iii) do not give up the expectation of retribution.

The first two teachings are easy to discuss together because they appear to be related: they share a common theme of avoiding bad company. The third, however, is generally taken to stand alone.

The need to discuss the third teaching on its own is not just a consequence of it appearing to address different subject matter. After all, it is possible to tie it in with its predecessors. It demands separate treatment because of its ambiguity. Who is being told not to abandon the belief in retribution—the bad person or his victim? And are we automatically talking here of retribution? The same word פּוּרְעָנוּת (puranut) can also mean ‘repayment’ or ‘reward’.

This being so, here’s a more upbeat message on Nittai’s teaching. The source is Rabbi Norman Lamm’s Foundations of Faith, a 2021 publication on the late Yeshiva University President’s thoughts on Avot, edited by his son-in-law Rabbi Mark Dratch. He writes that not despairing of punishment can be interpreted in two different ways:

“One is, that when things are going well, when good fortune smiles upon you and you bask in affluence and good health, do not imagine that it will always remain thus. Do not distract yourself from the underlying misery and sadness and insecurity of life Do not ‘give up’ on the possibility that adversity may strike, cruelly and suddenly. But there is another way to interpret the same Mishnah: never despair because of adversity! When misfortune strikes, when life seems to crowd you in, when you are caught in narrow straits, when the sun has set and life seems to have darkened—nevertheless, do not give up, do not yield to despair, do not imagine that help will never come!”

[After citing, the Tzava’at HaRivash on Tehillim 16:8 R’ Lamm continues]

That is why we break a glass at a wedding, the time of supreme joy, in memory of the destruction of the Temple. And that is why on Tisha B’Av, the day of national calamity, we do not say the tachanun prayer, because this very day is called mo’ed, a holiday! We introduce a note of sadness during the wedding, and a note of joy during Tisha B’Av. Yet—we do weep on Tisha B’Av and we do dance at weddings! …To be sad does not mean to interpret all of existence as an unmitigated evil, and to be happy does not mean to ignore the tragic dimension of life…”

R' Lamm is not saying “cheer up, things could always be worse”. What he is saying is that the world is not comprised entirely of those things that seem to be worse and that we should acknowledge that this is so. Ideally, our Sages teach, we should be thankful for the bad as well as for the good since we have no means of discerning the objective value of anything that happens in the world God has created. For most people this is hard, if not impossible to do, but we can still do something. We can remember that good exists, whether we experience it or not, and we can be grateful for what we do have.

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Thursday 11 April 2024

Get ahead, get a skull

The modern trend in commentaries in Avot is go look beyond the details and go for the big picture. Particularly where the Mishnah is a difficult one, it is tempting to identity a large moral precept or practical message and not waste the busy reader’s time with minutiae.  In a world where Jewish ethical teaching has to fight it out with slogans, soundbites and punchy one-liners, this approach is quite explicable. But it can still be immensely rewarding to dig deep and see what we can mine from a close analysis of details that are both easy and attractive to miss.

Here's an example. At Avot 2:7 Hillel teaches:

אַף הוּא רָאָה גֻּלְגֹּֽלֶת אַחַת שֶׁצָּֽפָה עַל פְּנֵי הַמָּֽיִם, אָמַר לָהּ: עַל דְּאַטֵּפְתְּ אַטְּפוּךְ, וְסוֹף מְטַיְפָֽיִךְ יְטוּפוּן

[Hillel] also saw a skull floating upon the water. He said to it: Because you drowned others, you were drowned; and those who drowned you will themselves be drowned.

This mishnah raises so many issues that it is unsurprising that many commentators prefer to explain it simply as an example of the principle of middah keneged middah: as you do to others, so shall things be done to you. But a close examination of the text shows that this approach is fraught with difficulties. In particular:

1. As a preliminary point, the postulate that every murder victim must have been a murderer himself and that his murderer will be murdered in turn is untrue and is not borne out by fact (R’ Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, Chapters of the Fathers: the Hirsch Pirkei Avos).

2. Unlike Hillel’s other mishnayot in Avot, this mishnah does not appear to have been said in its entirety by Hillel. How do we know? First, there is use of the third person singular (“He also saw …” and “he said to it …”), suggesting that the mishnah is an episode in which Hillel’s sighting of a skull and his actual words were seen and told over by someone else. Secondly, while the words spoken by Hillel are in Aramaic, the text that contextualizes those words is in Hebrew.

3. This mishnah is misplaced and seems to be in the wrong chapter of Avot. In the first perek, Hillel is quoted on the subject of negative outcomes and punishments for those who seek to gain advantage at the expense of others or who wrongfully exploit their knowledge. But here in the second perek, this Mishnah—with its apparent focus on retribution and death—is uncomfortably sandwiched between its bedfellows. The mishnah that precedes it focuses mainly on the personal qualities needed for learning and teaching Torah, while that which follows it contrasts the benefits conferred by the Torah and its spiritual values with the worries inherent in the material world.

4. One of Hillel’s maxims (Avot 2:4) is that you should not say anything that can’t be understood if you intend it to be understood—but the plain meaning of this Mishnah is not apparent.

5. Hillel also teaches that you should not judge others until you are in their place (also Avot 2:4). But here Hillel’s comments on the skull are entirely judgemental.

6. Even if Hillel was prepared to waste his words on speaking to a skull, the rule against lo’eg larash (mocking the dead) would make it highly improbable that he would be addressing words of Torah to it.

7. Almost every other time that water is mentioned in Avot other than when recounting miracles, it is a metaphorical reference to the Torah. But here the plain words do not appear to suggest any connection with the Torah.

8. Since the principle of middah keneged middah is so well known, and so frequently taught elsewhere, that it seems strange that Hillel should have sought so oblique a means of teaching it.

9. Hillel was a superb scholar, a celebrated teacher and an authoritative rabbi. He was not however a prophet. How could he have known the chain of events leading to the drowning of the owner of the skull, or be certain of the continuity of that chain into the future? Rashi and others have suggested that what Hillel saw was not a skull but a severed head, which Hillel recognized as formerly belonging to a murderer who was killed by robbers. This explanation addresses the past, but not the future.

10. Hillel, like all Tannaim, used words sparingly. Why then would he deem it appropriate to deliver a soliloquy to a deceased person’s insentient skull?

11. The basic meaning of the Aramaic word טוף (‘touf’), translated as “drown”, usually means “float.”

12. Skulls do not float on water. This is something that can be easily verified by experiment and would almost certainly have been within Hillel’s own general knowledge since bones were used for a variety of purposes in both Jewish and non-Jewish households during and after the Second Temple period.  For the record, the male skull (3.88 gm per cubic centilitre) is nearly four times denser than water (1 gm per cc) and the female skull has nearly three times its density (2.9 gm per cc).

Having shown that this Mishnah raises many problems, let us attempt to address them.

1. Since Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi ('Rebbi') located this mishnah in the second chapter of Avot, in the context of the neighbouring mishnayot that  address the teaching and learning of Torah, we may infer that this mishnah too is on the same topic.

2. While there is no explicit mention of Torah and learning in this mishnah, the well-known use of the concept of water as a metaphor for Torah provides the key to our understanding that this mishnah too relates to Torah study.

3. The word which is usually translated or understood as “drown” literally means “float.” The skull in this mishnah is therefore neither drowned nor drowning—but floating on the surface of the Torah.

4. The symbolism of the skull can be explained by one of its most obvious characteristics: it is a bone which is empty and therefore devoid of a brain – the organ of thought and, significantly here, the only organ through which Torah can be learned (per R’ Ya’akov Emden).

5. Putting this all together, we have the scenario of a person who lacks brainpower that enables him to plumb the depths of Torah wisdom; he is therefore condemned to float forever on the surface, gaining only a superficial surface view of the Torah and its teachings.

6. The action to which Hillel refers in this scenario is that the would-be scholar who lacks the intellectual power to understand the profundities of Torah has “caused others to float” by taking their teachings only at face value. This means in turn that those who absorb his shallow teachings will not be able to gravitate towards the Torah’s deeper meanings when they too teach future talmidim; this process will be destined to continue unabated into the future.

This reading of our mishnah as being entirely divorced from the drowning of villains may seem somewhat startling. It does however have several advantages. To name but a few, it eliminates the need to address the fact that there is no basis in reality for the propositions that those who are murdered must themselves be murderers and that those who murdered them will be murdered too. It also relieves us of the need to cast Hillel in the sort of judgemental role which he urges others to avoid. In the context of a metaphor employed as a teaching aid for the talmidim sitting at his feet, Hillel’s words would also have passed the instant comprehensibility test. Further, it eliminates any lo’eg larash problems caused by Hillel speaking words of Torah to someone who is dead.

What might have inspired Hillel to employ a metaphor of this nature? Again, we may never know. However, Hillel was not the only Tanna of Avot to use this teaching technique. We find that his teacher Avtalyon did so too, comparing the learning of poorly- or erroneously-taught Torah to the act of drinking polluted (literally “evil”) water: to imbibe such water would be fatal, causing desecration of the name of God (Avot 1:11. R’ Ya’akov Emden also makes this connection, at Avot 2:7). It may be no coincidence that Hillel was proud of the fact that he had learned his Torah from Avtalyon and Shemayah, whom Hillel described as “the two greatest men of the time” (Pesachim 66a).

We still have to offer a reason why this mishnah should have come to Rebbi in its unusual form with Hillel’s own words, in Aramaic, being introduced and contextualized by someone else speaking in Hebrew. While we may never know, it is tempting to hypothesize that Hillel was giving a shiur to his talmidim in Aramaic. In this shiur he sought to explain the importance of deep-rooted and firmly-based Torah learning and that he employed the analogy of the skull (i.e. the brainless head) bobbing around on the top of the water (i.e. Torah), warning of the consequences of remaining with learning that is literally superficial. Maybe he asked his talmidim to visualize this metaphor. Over the generations that separated Hillel from his distant descendant Rebbi, the metaphor so powerfully taught by Hillel became a Hebrew language narrative in which Hillel featured – and Rebbi, having understood this teaching in its original sense, placed it in the second chapter of Avot among Hillel’s observations on Torah, rather than in the first chapter along with another of his more retributionary statements. In the ensuing years, the underlying meaning of this teaching was either forgotten or replaced by explanations based on the principle of middah keneged middah.

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Tuesday 30 November 2021

Festive feasts and divine retribution

At this time of year, to mark the Jewish festival of Chanukah, a great deal of festive eating is done. Chanukah may be regarded by many as a "minor festival", but this eating is an activity in which the vast majority of Jews appear to indulge, regardless of their level of religious observance and commitment. The main object of consumption in contemporary is the sufganiyah-- a species of doughnut on steroids [linguistic note: the word sufganiyah is rarely heard since it is the singular form of the noun: the word is normally found in the plural, sufganiyot, since that is how they are generally purchased and consumed].

All this feasting on doughnuts reminds me of a mishnah in Pirkei Avot in which feasting makes a surprising appearance. According to Rabbi Akiva (Avot 3:20):
"Everything is given on collateral, and a net is spread over all the living. The store is open, the storekeeper extends credit. The account-book lies open and the hand writes -- and all who wish to borrow may come and borrow. [But] the bailiffs make their rounds every day and exact payment from a person, whether he knows it or not. Their case is well founded, the judgement is a judgement of truth, and everything is prepared for the feast"
What does this feast have to do with the collection of debts? And who gets to attend it? Let's look a little further into this mystery.
One view of the promised banquet (Bartenura; commentary ascribed to Rashi) is that it is for everyone – the righteous and the wicked alike – on the strength of a promise that every Jew is entitled to a share in the World to Come – though the wicked may find that they need to purge themselves of the error of their ways before they get to receive their share. According to this mishnah, that purging is effected through the punishment element of the payback which is indicated through the Hebrew verb nifra’in.
An alternative view is that only the righteous will enjoy this feast: the wicked, having consumed their credit in their lifetime, are unable to attend since they will be destroyed for all eternity (per Rabbi Ovadyah Sforno). There is also a position that lies between the two: everyone gets to attend the banquet but only the righteous get to eat: the wicked sit and watch, grinding their teeth (per Rabbi Ya'akov Emden).
None of these explanations answer a fundamental question: what is the intended function of this reference within the mishnah?
All the other statements in this mishnah share a common function: that of getting man to change his behaviour for the better. The vague statement that “everything is prepared for the feast” does not. If a person is reminded that God keeps a record of everything he does, that he cannot cheat God and that he will be judged on the basis of his performance, he may be moved by these sobering reflections to behave better, or at least to think more carefully before continuing to behave badly. However, imagine your response if someone were to say to you, “watch out how you behave because, after you die and God judges you for good or bad, there is a banquet to which you may or may not be invited and at which you may be allowed to eat immediately, after a delay or not at all.” How big an impact might these words have as an incentive to do good or as a caution against doing bad? And what is the attraction of this banquet in an afterlife in which there is no eating or drinking in the physical sense, but instead a reward that we cannot comprehend: that of being bathed in the light of the Shechinah (an experience of one's awareness of God's presence)?
A possible answer lies in how we view the concept of post-mortem dining arrangements in Avot. This mishnah refers to a se'udah (translated here as “feast” but generally referring to any meal that marks or honours a special occasion), and a later mishnah taught in the name of Rabbi Ya’akov (at 4:21) refers to a traklin (which I translate as “banqueting hall” but also means “dining couch”). These are the only two mishnayot in Avot to make explicit reference to banqueting arrangements, but that is not the only thing they have in common.
In each case the “banquet” is in the World to Come; the banquet is contemplated within a wider context as something that follows a course of repentance/payback and good deeds, and the word used in relation to it has the same Hebrew root: letaken, “to prepare.”
It is submitted that both mishnayot can be read as conveying the same message: it is not the meal that matters here, but the preparation for it. If you want God’s judgement to be in your favour in the next World, you have to prepare for it in this one. When Rabbi Akiva teaches that “everything is prepared for the feast” he means that, if you follow his guidance in the earlier parts of the mishnah, it is you who have, figuratively speaking, prepared the “banquet” that awaits you – and that whether there is a banquet ahead of you or not depends on your efforts and your preparation.
More on food as a metaphor
The idea of a person behaving well or badly, being judged and then being sentenced in a manner that is appropriate to his conduct is also frequently conveyed in English by a sequence of food-related metaphors. While Rabbis Akiva and Ya’akov talk of feasts, we speak of a person “getting his just desserts.” One cannot have unlimited credit and expect that he will never have to pay it back since “you can’t have your cake and eat it.” Where a person performs a deed in a clumsy or unnecessarily complex manner, he is said to have “made a meal of it” or, depending on his locality, to have “made a hash of it.” If he vigorously asserts that he has done no wrong but God’s judgement goes against him, he is obliged to “eat humble pie.” Some people’s World to Come is better than that of others: this is not because “that’s the way the cookie crumbles” but because Divine justice takes into account things that we cannot know or see. Since preparation for one’s World to Come can only be done during one’s lifetime, someone who “doesn’t care a fig” about God’s judgement while he lives won’t get a chance to remedy the situation after he dies since no-one gets “a second bite at the cherry.” When he sees the rewards of others, which are denied to him, his attitude may be one of “sour grapes” and he may be “stewing in his own juice.” In each of these cases, the use of the metaphor describes a person’s conduct or attitude: what is eaten, and whether it is eaten or not, are matters of no consequence.
Photograph: doughnuts from Modiin, the locality from which the Hasmonean uprising against the Greeks was launched.