Going strong?

At Avot 4:1 Ben Zoma asks and answers four questions, of which the second is this:

אֵיזֶהוּ גִבּוֹר, הַכּוֹבֵשׁ אֶת יִצְרוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: טוֹב אֶֽרֶךְ אַפַּֽיִם מִגִּבּוֹר, וּמוֹשֵׁל בְּרוּחוֹ מִלֹּכֵד עִיר

Who is a gibor (“strongman”)? Someone who overpowers their inclinations. As it states (in Mishlei 16:32): "Better one who is slow to anger than a strongman, and one who rules over his spirit [is better than] than one who captures a city."

For the Sefat Emet this is obvious in quantitative terms: every individual is an olam katan (a miniature world). Anyone who can keep a lid on his own inclinations has thus conquered a whole world—which is a far greater achievement than merely conquering a city. Such a person is a true gibor.

The word gibor literally means “strong” in a physical sense. However, the notion that real strength lies outside the realms of the purely physical can be traced back to the Torah and appears frequently in Tanach. Thus we are taught that power lies in reliance on God rather than on numerical superiority, weapons and chariots (Tehillim 20:8), and that God desires the respect or fear of his subjects, not their might or their horsepower (Devarim 7:7, Tehillim 147:10-11).  The Jewish people are likened to a sheep surrounded by 70 wolves, their protection being contingent on the strength of their belief in God (Midrash Tanchuma, Toledot 6; Esther Rabbah 10:11). The related word gevurah (“strength”) is regarded as the special attribute of one of the three Patriarchs, Yitzchak: his strength as portrayed in the Torah is an inner strength that enables him to place his trust firmly in the hands of his God-fearing father Avraham, letting himself be led unresistingly to what appeared to be a proposed act of human sacrifice in which he was the intended victim (Bereshit 22:1-19).

Ben Zoma adds a further ingredient to this mix: gevurah is a person’s ability to control himself—the exercise of bechirah (“free will”)—that marks him out as truly strong. There are many facets to this degree of self-control and they go way beyond the trifling victories on which it is so easy to congratulate oneself. Politely refusing that deliciously inviting third slice of cake in the company of friends, even though one would rather have liked to eat it, is not solely the result of self-control since it is also the product of subliminal peer pressure on the part of those whose inhibiting presence cannot be discounted. Refusing the same piece of cake when there is no-one but God to watch is an entirely different matter.

Ben Zoma’s vision of strength as self-control may well be the basis for an important midrashic interpretation of a passage in Psalms (Tehillim 103:20) where the term giborei ko’ach (literally “mighty ones of strength”) is understood as a reference to those who exercise stoic self-control during the shemittah year,826 when they can neither farm their land nor stop strangers coming on to their land and eating whatever produce might be found there (Vayikra Rabbah 1:1).

Of all the personalities depicted in Tanach, the one who stands out in terms of sheer physical power is the last of the Judges, Shimshon. In Jewish tradition he is generally referred to as “Shimshon HaGibor” (“Samson the Strong”). Not only is this appellation not to be found in the Book of Judges (the first use of “Shimshon HaGibor” appears to be in the Mechilta deRabbi); in the light of this Mishnah it would appear on a plain reading of the text to be entirely inappropriate. Of all Israel’s Judges, there is none who appears as incapable of exercising self-control as Shimshon. His two unsuitable marriages, each time to a Philistine woman, appear to have been precipitated by passion, his acts of violent revenge extended far beyond the scope of retribution against those who had angered or deceived him, and he was unable to resist the persistent requests of his wife that he reveal the secret of his God-given strength.

Since the recorded description of Shimshon’s physical strength was beyond doubt, the addition of the epithet “hagibor” adds nothing to our understanding, so what is it doing there at all? Might it be that the term is being used in a manner that is ironical or euphemistic, in the same way as the words “sagi nahor” (“sufficient light”) are applied to someone who is blind?

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Manna from Heaven and the power of ko'ach

There’s a long and puzzling Baraita at Avot 6:8 which opens like this:

רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן יְהוּדָה מִשּׁוּם רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן בֶּן יוֹחָאִי אוֹמֵר: הַנּוֹי, וְהַכֹּֽחַ, וְהָעֹֽשֶׁר, וְהַכָּבוֹד, וְהַחָכְמָה, וְהַזִּקְנָה, וְהַשֵּׂיבָה, וְהַבָּנִים, נָאֶה לַצַּדִּיקִים וְנָאֶה לָעוֹלָם,

[Translation] Rabbi Shimon ben Yehudah used to say in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai: “Beauty, strength, wealth, honor, wisdom, sageness, old age and children—these befit the righteous and befit the world”.

Of the many questions this statement raises, one is this: what specifically does strength have to do with the righteous? Since the sixth chapter of Avot deals with Torah and how to acquire it, we can reasonably suppose that the reference to the righteous in our baraita is an allusion to those who are righteous on account of their commitment to Torah. Does Torah make them strong? No, it seems. We learn that the study of Torah matashet kocho shel adam (“weakens a man’s strength”: Rabbi Chanan, at Sanhedrin 26b).

A possible explanation is that Rabbi Chanan’s statement that Torah learning weakens a person’s strength relates solely to physical strength, but that the baraita does not. The Hebrew word ַכחַ (ko’ach, literally “strength”) also connotes “power” in the sense of “having an ability” to do something. But is there any support for this answer?

One of the things that children learn in the earliest stages of their Jewish education is that, when the Children of Israel spent 40 years in the desert, they ate manna every day. This manna, which fell miraculously from Heaven, had the wonderful quality of tasting like what each person wanted it to taste like, so they never got bored with it. Few Jewish adults look beyond this cute little story to see how it is utilised by the Sages. If they did, they would find that there’s more to midrash than delicious food falling out of the sky. Here’s Yalkut Shimoni, Yitro 286, discussing the revelation of God at Mount Sinai when he gave the Jewish people the Torah (with emphases added):

Rabbi Levi said: The Holy One blessed be He appeared to them like a portrait that is visible from all angles. A thousand people may gaze at it and it gazes back at all of them. It’s the same with the Holy One, blessed be He. When He spoke, every single Israelite said: “The Word spoke to me! It’s not written ‘I am the Lord your God but I am the Lord thy God” [note: Hebrew uses different words to indicate plural or singular forms of the second person. So too does old English, where “your” means “belonging to more than one” while “thy” means “belonging to only one other”].

Rabbi Yose said: The Word spoke to each and everyone according to their personal capacity. Don’t be surprised at the manna that came down to the Israelites, each person tasting the flavour he was able to appreciate—infants in accordance with their capacities, young men in accordance with theirs and the old in accordance with theirs. If that was the case for the manna, where everyone tasted the flavour he could appreciate, how much more so does this apply to the Word [of God].

David said: קוֹל-יְהוָה בַּכֹּחַ “The voice of the Lord is in strength”: Tehillim 29:4). It doesn’t say “in his strength but just “in strength”, meaning in accordance with the capabilities of each person.

Now the Baraita at Avot 6:8 can be seen in a fresh light. The righteous, in pursuing their path in accordance with the precepts of the Torah, need כֹֽחַ in the sense of the ability to discern the many different dimensions of the Torah’s content and to identify the approach that is most appropriate or efficacious in any given situation.

A final thought. When we wish one another yashir ko’ach (or yashir kochachah), is this simply a Hebrew version of “here’s power to your elbow!”—or does it convey a subtle midrashic connotation too?

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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.

***** ***** *****

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

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Can we all be winners?

A theme to which Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks returns on many occasions in his writings is that of the contrast between situations in which we all benefit from complying with behavioural norms and those in which one person’s benefit is at another’s expense. Judaism, he frequently observes, requires us to consider the position of others and not just ourselves. This is why its standards tend to lead us towards choosing “win-win” situations rather than those whose outcome is “winner-take-all”. To put it another way, when we cooperate with others, we can achieve much together that we are incapable of achieving alone—but when we compete with one another, we may find that we are playing a “zero-sum game” in which one person’s victory is always at the expense of another.

I was reminded of this when I spotted a comment by Rabbi Ya’akov Ze’ev Yadler in his Tiferet Tzion on the first mishnah of the fourth perek where Ben Zoma teaches:

Who is wise? One who learns from every man, as it states: "From all my teachers I have grown wise, for Your testimonials are my meditation” (Psalms 119:9).

Who is strong? One who overpowers his inclinations, as it states: "Better one who is slow to anger than a strong man, and one who rules his spirit [is better] than one who captures a city” (Proverbs 16:32).

Who is rich? One who is happy with his lot, as it states: "If you eat from the effort of your own hands, fortunate are you, and it is good for you" (Psalms 128:2); "fortunate are you" in this world, "and it is good for you" in the World to Come.

Who is honoured? One who honours his fellows, as it states: "For to those who honour me, I accord honour; those who scorn me shall be demeaned” (I Shmuel 2:30).

Rabbi Yadler comments that, when it comes to a person’s physical strength, this is only a relative asset. To put his point in colloquial terms, you can be the strongest kid on the block—but only till someone else comes along who is bigger and stronger. However, the reign of that new king of the block will only last until he is deposed in his turn by another who is even stronger. Every time this happens, the value of an individual’s strength continues to diminish as one’s physical prowess wanes. Either you are the top dog or you are not: you go from hero to zero. Self-discipline does not suffer from this defect. No-one else can take your self-discipline and will-power away from you; it does not diminish in its value if anyone else has greater personal self-control because one’s will-power is unaffected by the presence of the same quality in others. And if everyone possesses the ability to master their baser instincts, we are all the winners.

The same applies with the three other qualities Ben Zoma mentions: gaining wisdom from others, being content with one’s lot and according due respect to others. If I share my thoughts and ideas with another, we both benefit from them rather than just myself. My contentment and gratitude with my portion is not spoiled by other people’s contentment with theirs, and there is no finite quantity of respect in the world—we can all honour one another and raise the aggregate of respect that exists in our communities and beyond.

Nice things for the righteous: a privilege or a responsibility

Towards the end of Avot (at 6:8) there is a Baraita that calls for a bit of attention. It starts off like this:

Rabbi Shimon ben Yehudah used to say in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, “Beauty, strength, wealth, honour, wisdom, old age, venerable old age and children are fitting for the righteous and fitting for the world”. 

It then breaks off into a string of proof verses that either do or don't prove the point of the Baraita, whatever that might be.  The usual reading of this teaching is that the eight things listed in it are, well, fitting for the righteous (a class of people who are sometimes assumed to be rabbis).

Looking againat this Baraita, I wondered whether it might actually convey quite the opposite meaning to the normal one.  This would be the case if the eight things listed are not rewards or privileges, but instead impositions for anyone who posssesses them. In other words, this is a list of burdens that place responsibility on whoever is burdened with them.  How does this work? Let us take each term in order:

·     Beauty: a person’s physical beauty is a snare and a delusion, an external asset that deteriorates over time. An earlier Mishnah (4:27) has already warned us of the danger of taking people at face value, and the Book of Proverbs (31:30) emphasizes that it is a false value (“Favor is false and beauty is vanity”). Only a person with a strong moral backbone can be sure to cope with the pressures and expectations placed upon them by the perception of others that they are beautiful.

·     Strength: As Ben Zoma explains above (4:1), strength is defined in terms of the ability to exercise self-discipline in controlling oneself.  Given the powerful pull of a person’s evil inclination, having the strength to overcome it would seem to be an essential and ever-present weapon in the tzaddik’s armory of middot. The sad lot of the tzaddik is that his evil inclination is stronger than that of others, so he has need of greater strength to combat it (Sukkah 52a).

·     Wealth: Hillel the Elder has already taught (2:8), “the more the wealth, the more the worry”. Again, strength of character and moral rectitude are required if a person is to pass the test of affluence.  While we can all be rich—since the one who is truly rich is the person who is content with his portion (4:1)—this is something that applies to everyone, whether they are tzaddikim or otherwise.

·     Honour: of the eight items listed in this Baraita, none is as potentially toxic as honour: it is the only one that has the potential to kill a man spiritually stone dead (4:28). An ordinary individual runs the risk of chasing honor when it is as yet unearned, and of letting it get to his head even if it has been fairly earned. A tzaddik will however be able to handle its toxicity and treat it in the way Avot prescribes, by giving it to others (4:1 again) and by according it to the Torah (4:8)

·      Wisdom: like honor, wisdom can be dangerous in the hands of someone who lacks the requisite moral framework within which to utilize it. Pharaoh invoked wisdom when deciding to deal with his “Jewish Problem” (Exodus 1:10: "Come, let us deal wisely with them..."): this misdirected wisdom could have resulted in the extinction of the Children of Israel but instead caused Pharaoh’s personal humiliation and the destruction of his own fighting force. Balaam’s attempts at prophecy could not harm Israel but his wise counsel did, when he advised Balak on how to break the desert nation’s commitment to God (Numbers 31:16).  Few men of their generation were as wise as King David’s counsellor Achitophel (Chagigah 15b; Bemidbar Rabbah 22) and King Saul’s chief herdsman Doeg (Chagigah 15b; Tehillim Rabbah 52:4), yet their intellectual prowess was ill matched with their scheming politics. The harsh reality is that wisdom is only safe in the hands of someone who can be trusted—and that is a massive responsibility, as Moses discovered when he was the only person who possessed the necessary wisdom to resolve his people’s disputes (Exodus18:13-26).

·     Early old age: 60 or thereabouts is the time when a person becomes conscious of the fact that, while he may feel no different on the inside, he is starting to look old. Without a firm moral basis that supports a tzaddik, the drive to “have a final fling” or to yield to what is euphemistically called a “midlife crisis” can be overwhelming.

·     Venerable old age: the Talmud (Shabbat 152a) reports the words of Barzillai the Gileadite (2 Samuel 19:35) to the effect that, on reaching the ripe old age of 80, there was no longer much pleasure to be derived from life in the King’s court.  The diminution of one’s senses of sight, taste and hearing can weigh heavily on someone whose pleasures depend on them, but a tzaddik will not complain to God about his sad and feeble state. Rather, he should be well equipped to be able to take the disappointments and the tribulations of advanced old age as a time to recall with gratitude his earlier days and the opportunities he once had to serve others. Now is the time to reflect on the opportunities that he can give others to do acts of kindness for him.

·     Children: one does not need a Torah source to support the proposition, evidenced by life itself, that bringing up children can take its toll on even a loving parent. The price one pays for parenting can be steep in terms of time, effort, frustration, sleep deprivation, temper control and general inconvenience. Nor is there any point at which one can predict that the responsibility for raising one’s children will end. For a true tzaddik none of this is a burden.