Cull, control or cultivate: What should we do about self-esteem?

Many of my most interesting thoughts come to me through the medium of my breakfast reading materials. In the course of this unusually long repast, I usually have six or seven books on the go at the same time. Some, like Sefer Chafetz Chaim, are visited daily. Others are taken down and returned to the shelf every day but may not be opened more than three or four times in any given week. Much depends on a whim, and whether I stumble across something that retains my fancy or not.

It is the juxtaposition of books and authors that provides so much food for thought. A classical example earlier this week came from two modern “heavyweights”, Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski and Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks. Within two pieces of toast and marmalade I found Rabbi Twerski (Visions of the Fathers) stressing the importance of self-esteem and the damage suffered by those who lack it, followed by Rabbi Sacks (Morality) pointing to the adverse effects of inflated self-esteem on society as it apparently drifts inexorably from a “We” to an “I” culture.

It is not hard to synthesise these two superficially contradictory views of self-esteem. Taking every individual separately—as Rabbi Twerski did when he treated them as patients—the absence of an adequate degree of self-esteem can lead to a retreat from participation in society at large, leading to loneliness, a crushing feeling of inadequacy and a search to escape reality through the abuse of alcohol or drugs. In contrast, taking society as a whole, the ability of its constituent members to fulfil their potential through cooperation with others is hampered through the assertion of any individual who believes him- or herself to be too important to accept dependency or to contribute to the welfare of others.

Where does Pirkei Avot fit into this scheme? It is hard to decide. The term “self-esteem” does not have an obvious equivalent in Mishnaic Hebrew (the term in Ivrit is הערכה עצמית). Even in English it is not a precise term. It is clearly something more pointed than entry-level concepts of “self-awareness” and “self-consciousness”, jockeying for a place with “self-respect” and perhaps even “egoism”. Oxford Online offers the definition “confidence in one's own worth or abilities; self-respect”, but self-respect and self-esteem are not synonymous: one can possess self-respect while esteeming oneself very little.

The rabbis of Avot do not however leave us without guidance. They expect us to know our positive qualities for what they are, neither hiding them nor vaunting them, and also to respect the same qualities when we see them in others. Thus for example a person who has the ability to teach is expected to do so (Avot 1:13) and we are asked to rise to the occasion and face challenges when no-one else is around to do so (Avot 2:6), even if it means raising our performance level beyond our knowledge base (Avot 3:12, 3:22, 6:5). We should not indulge in self-promotion above our station (also Avot 1:13). We are to earn the esteem of others by the expedient of recognising their value too (Avot 4:1), though we should remain as humble as circumstances permit (Avot 4:4, 4:12).

There is also the catch-all teaching of Hillel at Avot 1:14: “If I am not for me, who am I? And if I am only for me, what am I?...”.  These two parts of the quoted mishnah do appear to correspond neatly with having too little, and then too much, self-esteem. But can we tie this interpretation in with its authorship by Hillel? Arguably, yes.

There is an aggadic passage in the Talmud (Pesachim 66a) that tells how the sons of Beteira, having forgotten whether the laws of Pesach override those of Shabbat, were taught the correct legal position by Hillel, whom they immediately appointed as their head. Hillel then rebuked them for not knowing the law and chided them for not having learned it at the feet of his own teachers Shemayah and Avtalyon. At this point, he was taken down a peg or two by being caused to forget a halachah himself.

We can restate this tale as follows: Hillel arrives in HJerusalem as a humble and unknown traveller from Babylonia, a man who has neither position nor protetzia. He reckons that he is equal to the task of telling the Temple authorities what they might or might not do, and has sufficient self-confidence to recognise himself as being worthy of this task. However, once he has astounded the Benei Beteira with his erudition and been honoured accordingly, his freshly-acquired feeling of importance leads him to rebuke his hosts—and this is a step too far.  With too little self-esteem, Hillel might never have had the confidence and the courage to make a ruling before his seniors; but when ultimately he displays too great a degree self-esteem, he suffers for it.

Not considering oneself wicked: a response to Paul?

At Avot 2:18 Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel says: "Do not be wicked in your own eyes". Unsurprisingly there are many explanations of what he means. A superficially surprising and almost irrelevant comment on this part of the Mishnah comes from Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, writing in the later part of the 19th century: 

The Mishnah does not mention guilt or intercession, so why does Rabbi Hirsch? 

Do not allow yourself to be taken in by the erroneous idea advanced by alien philosophies that man on his own must of necessity be crushed by the weight of his guilt, and that it is solely through the gracious intercession of another that he can gain control over evil and be delivered from the burden of sin.

On closer reflection his comment is both pertinent and relevant: its subject is Jewish conversions to Christianity. In the nineteenth century, the defection of Jews from orthodox religious practice took more than one form. For some, the less stringent demands of the Reform movement enabled them to combine a more relaxed and assimilated lifestyle with a sentiment of identification with their Jewish roots and some of their most cherished customs and traditions.  For others, advancement in society required not merely assimilation with the majority Christian culture but admission to it. Many accordingly opted for baptism and a complete change of allegiance.

Christianity is alluded to through Rabbi Hirsch's references to man being crushed by the weight of his own sin (i.e. to man being born in a state of sin and incapable of achieving his own salvation) and to the gracious intercession of another (i.e. to grace in the form of salvation through Jesus). But what connection is there between Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel and the threat that Jews might turn to Christianity over 1,800 years before Rabbi Hirsch’s day?

One of the earliest Christian apostles and a major source of the doctrine of original sin —the idea that man is born in a state of sin and requires salvation through the grace of Jesus—was Paul of Tarsus.  Paul, Jewish by birth and named Sha’ul, learned Torah with the first Rabban Gamliel.  

Sha’ul/Paul and Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel were exact contemporaries.  Would they have known one another? Very likely, if the Shimon ben Netanel who married Rabban Gamliel’s daughter was the same person as the Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel who authored the dictum under discussion here. If Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel had witnessed at first hand the splintering of the Jewish community under Roman rule and the growing popularity of the teachings of Sha’ul/Paul and those who thought like him, it would not be implausible that this Mishnah meant exactly what Rabbi Hirsch said it did—and its controversial content might explain why Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel was so carefully allusive and non-explicit in his choice of words.