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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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.