Moses -- not so humble after all?

In an anonymous mishnah at Avot 5:14 we encounter four personality types with whom we are well familiar:

אַרְבַּע מִדּוֹת בְּדֵעוֹת: נֽוֹחַ לִכְעוֹס וְנֽוֹחַ לֵרָצוֹת, יָצָא הֶפְסֵדוֹ בִּשְׂכָרוֹ. קָשֶׁה לִכְעוֹס וְקָשֶׁה לֵרָצוֹת, יָצָא שְׂכָרוֹ בְּהֶפְסֵדוֹ. קָשֶׁה לִכְעוֹס וְנֽוֹחַ לֵרָצוֹת, חָסִיד. נֽוֹחַ לִכְעוֹס וְקָשֶׁה לֵרָצוֹת, רָשָׁע

There are four types of temperament. A person who is easy to anger and easy to calm down—his loss is cancelled out by his gain. One who is hard to anger and hard to calm down—his gain is cancelled out by his loss. One whom it is hard to anger but easy to calm down is a chasid. One who is easy to anger but hard to calm down is wicked.

Maharam Shik is initially troubled by this mishnah. We are supposed to choose middot that are good, but being quick to anger and slow to cool off are part and parcel of our natural package as humans. These characteristics are surely not things we choose: they are hard-wired within us. Why then stigmatise such a person as being wicked? The answer can only be that one must fight and overcome one’s inherent nature. If we can do this, Ben Zoma (Avot 4:1) praises us for demonstrating our strength of character.

So far we have learned nothing new. Most commentators are not troubled by the designation of the quick-to-anger, slow-to-cool person as wicked: they appear to assume that this is effectively a matter of choice: you are wicked if you don’t change your fundamental character trait of anger. Though this view prevails, it has attracted further refinements. For the Alshich, we regard this person as wicked in order not to learn from his ways and copy him. For the Gemara, one who yields to his anger and serves it is to be equated with an idolator (Shabbat 105b).

Maharam Shik now takes the notion that we can indeed choose to change our nature and applies it in an entirely different context.

There is a remarkable, superficially incomprehensible midrash at the very end of Yalkut Shimoni (VeZot Haberachah 966) which refers to the final verse in the Torah (Devarim 34:12):

וּלְכֹל הַיָּד הַחֲזָקָה, וּלְכֹל הַמּוֹרָא הַגָּדוֹל, אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה מֹשֶׁה, לְעֵינֵי כָּל-יִשְׂרָאֵל

“And by all the mighty hand, and by all the great terror, which Moses wrought in the sight of all Israel”.

According to the Midrash, God wanted to write the factually more correct verse

 וּלְכֹל הַיָּד הַחֲזָקָה, וּלְכֹל הַמּוֹרָא הַגָּדוֹל, אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה יהוה, לְעֵינֵי כָּל-יִשְׂרָאֵל

“And by all the mighty hand, and by all the great terror, which God wrought in the sight of all Israel”.

Moses however objected and asked that he, not God, be named as the one who wielded the mighty hand and great terror—and God agreed to do this. This midrash, Maharam Shik exclaims, is astonishing. Here we have Moses, whom the Torah itself records as being the humblest of men, demanding of God that he and not the Almighty be credited for all time as the one who worked great miracles in the eyes of all Israel. How can this be?

For those who read midrashim literally, there is no hope of a meaningful reconciliation of this message with our understanding of the Torah, and even for those who look beyond the narrative there is a hard task ahead to dress it up as the vehicle to convey a deeper moral. But Maharam Shik is up to the task.

Moses was indeed the humblest of men, but he was also a consummate teacher. He alone of our ancient sages is given the epithet ‘Rabbenu’ (our teacher). So let us postulate that this midrash is telling us a tale about a teacher.

What was the greatest of the miracles that God wrought for the Israelite people during their transition from slavery in idolatrous Egypt to the foundation of an independent monotheistic commonwealth under God? Keri’at Yam Suf, the splitting of the Reed Sea.  How did this happen? What the Israelites saw with their own eyes was Moses stretching his hand out over the sea (Shemot 14:21), which then dramatically parted. They did not of course see God. 

The midrash shows us a man performing an action which produces a result that runs contrary to the natural order and indeed defies it. This scenario depicts the possibility that man can conquer the natural order and transcend the derech teva. Now, if Moses can achieve the apparently impossible through his acts, surely we can learn from this that it is possible for us too to  transcend the same derech teva—by choosing not to flare angrily up when our nature urges to do so and, if we have given in to our inner feelings, by swiftly regaining our composure.

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The will to exercise one's will-power

Pirkei Avot is not short of wildlife. Apart from scorpions, snakes and three different species of worm we find four popular inhabitants of the world of simile all listed together at Avot 5:23 when Yehudah ben Teyma opens his teaching with the following comparisons:

הֱוֵי עַז כַּנָּמֵר, וְקַל כַּנֶּֽשֶׁר, רָץ כַּצְּבִי, וְגִבּוֹר כָּאֲרִי, לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹן אָבִֽיךָ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָֽיִם

Be as bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer and strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in Heaven.

There is no shortage of rabbinical explanation as to why these particular creatures have been chosen, or of the precise significance of such a creature being “bold”, “light”, “swift” or “strong”. These qualities are clearly not to be taken literally. We can see this from the fact that, of the four, the “swift” deer is actually the slowest. This explains why it gets eaten by lions, leopards and other animals that chase it.

Why do we need two big cats? Let’s start with the lion, which is the role-model for gevurah.  This word literally means “strength”. In the context of Avot it means a particular kind of strength: self-discipline, the strength of character to control oneself (Avot 4:1). Yehudah ben Teyma’s lion can therefore be seen as a metaphor for self-control.

Where does that leave the leopard, who stands for being az (bold, brazen)? This metaphor can also be taken as a pointer in the direction of inner strength. If gevurah is the actual exercise of personal strength to control one’s instincts and urges in any given situation, being az means having the strength to decide that one wants to exercise self-control—even if it is not yet the opportunity to do so. So the leopard must face down all the attractive options to self-discipline, to recognise its importance and to cultivate the importance of exercising it. It is then the task of the lion to practice it when trials and temptations come its way.

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Based on an idea expressed in Rabbi Reuven Melamed, Melitz Yosher al Pirkei Avot.

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A tangible silence

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel teaches, at Avot 1:17:

כָּל יָמַי גָּדַֽלְתִּי בֵּין הַחֲכָמִים, וְלֹא מָצָֽאתִי לְגוּף טוֹב מִשְּׁתִיקָה, וְלֹא הַמִּדְרָשׁ עִקָּר אֶלָּא הַמַּעֲשֶׂה, וְכָל הַמַּרְבֶּה דְבָרִים מֵבִיא חֵטְא

Translation: “In all my days I have been brought up among the wise, and I have found nothing better for the body than silence. The essential thing is not study, but action. And anyone who talks too much brings on sin”.

The main message of Rabban Shimon is clear: it is good to be sparing with one’s speech and to prioritise the performance of good deeds even when one is committed to the study of Torah. However, there is still scope for questions and discussion.

Two issues spring out at us. The more obvious one arises from the curious reference to “the body”. Would not Rabban Shimon’s message be just as clear if those words were omitted? And why should anything as intangible as human speech be thought to have an impact on a person’s corporeal wellbeing?

The other issue arises from the inclusion of the first part of Rabban Shimon’s teaching in Avot, when the final part cautions against excessive verbiage and the redactor has also included other teachings about the need to limit one’s speech (Avot 1:5, 1:11, 3:17).

An explanation that both accounts for the reference to “body” and vindicates the inclusion of the apparently repetitive teaching in this Mishnah is offered by the Sefat Emet (as brought by Rabbi Gedaliyahu Schorr, Or Gedaliyahu, parashat Behar). According to this explanation, when Rabban Shimon refers to silence that is good for the body, he is referring to a person’s need to silence the internal voice that advocates for those urges and desires that relate to one’s physicality. How does one silence this internal voice one? By subjugating it through the force of one’s neshamah, one’s spiritual strength.

If one accepts this view, the mishnah teaches of Rabban Shimon’s own personal experience of exercising self-discipline regarding the body. This presumably means curbing excessive eating, drinking and other pleasures that are permitted but potentially harmful when there is over-indulgence. It does not suggest that silence is better than any form of speech; nor does it overlap with the other mishnayot concerning the desirability of limiting one’s verbal output.

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