But if you're so clever and so holy, why do you want to be rich and famous?

The sixth perek of Avot consists of a set of baraitot that tag along after the first five perakim of mishnayot. To some people they may seem like an afterthought, an accidental child trailing in the wake of five illustrious siblings. As if to rub it in, the rabbis named as authors of its teachings include Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi—stigmatised by all but Rambam and Tosefot Yom Tov as being only an Amora and not a real Tanna at all.

Though it contains the longest teaching in Avot, where at 6:6 we learn the 48 things that aid us to acquire Torah, the sixth chapter still contains only 11 baraitot and they are among the least frequently cited teachings in the tractate. But this perek should not be ignored. There is much to learn from it, if we only care to look.

I found myself thinking again about Avot 6:5, where an anonymous Tanna says:

אַל תְּבַקֵּשׁ גְּדֻלָּה לְעַצְמְךָ, וְאַל תַּחְמוֹד כָּבוֹד, יוֹתֵר מִלִּמּוּדֶֽךָ עֲשֵׂה, וְאַל תִּתְאַוֶּה לְשֻׁלְחָנָם שֶׁל מְלָכִים, שֶׁשֻּׁלְחָנְךָ גָּדוֹל מִשֻּׁלְחָנָם, וְכִתְרְךָ גָּדוֹל מִכִּתְרָם, וְנֶאֱמָן הוּא בַּֽעַל מְלַאכְתֶּֽךָ שֶׁיְּשַׁלֶּם לְךָ שְׂכַר פְּעֻלָּתֶֽךָ

Do not seek greatness for yourself, and do not lust for honour. Do more than you have learned. Don’t desire the table of kings, for your table is greater than theirs, and your crown is greater than theirs, and trustworthy is your Employer to pay you the rewards of your work.

As a preliminary question, we can ask: To whom is this baraita addressed? From the text itself we can infer that it these words are being spoken to someone who (i) is not a king but (ii) who is apparently interested in seeking high status (gedulah) and honor (kavod). He is however (iii) not fulfilling his maximum potential for action. He needs to be assured that (iv) what he has is greater than that which is possessed by those whom he wishes to join or emulate, and that (v) if he plays his cards right and serves God properly, he can be sure to receive his due reward.

We might also imagine that the addressee is someone whose appetite for power or high office has not been dampened by the warnings in the mishnayot earlier in Avot that he should be wary of the dangers of being a “household name” (literally “a name made great”: Avot 1:13), that he should shun public office (Avot 1:10, 3:6) and avoid those who hold it (Avot 2:3). Nor, plainly, has this person been confronted by the caution in the Talmud that high office kills whoever holds it (Pesachim 87b, cited on this baraita by Rabbi Ya’akov Emden, Lechem Shamayim).

The Maharam Shik, in his Chidushei Aggadot al Masechet Avot, perceptively asks why it is that a tzaddik or talmid chacham should ever seek greatness, riches and the pleasurable things of this world: surely this is not for them? He then supplies an answer, pointing to the words spoken by King Solomon (Kohelet 9:16):

Wisdom is better than strength. Even so, the poor man’s wisdom is despised, and his words are not listened to.

King Solomon was both rich and wise; his words and wisdom are still regularly pondered today, and the point made here is a good one. Can we truly say that we take sufficient care to weigh the words of someone who is poor, who presents himself badly and who looks more as though he is need of some helpful advice himself? And how eagerly do many of us seek to catch pearls of wisdom from someone who has been touched by wealth, fame or high responsibility? At any rate, this baraita serves as a sort of reality check for the impecunious tzaddik or talmid chacham: he must ask himself two questions: (i) is the benefit he seeks to confer on others his real motive for seeking greatness and honour? (ii) is he equipped to cope with the pressures, responsibilities and temptations that greatness and honour may put his way?

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Real Wealth? Sophie Tucker v Abba and The Beatles

Much of Rabbi Chaim Volozhin’s classic commentary on Avot, Ruach Chaim, has a distant and detached feel to it. Written by a major Torah scholar for a generation where the pursuit of Torah and commitment to its precepts required neither excuse nor apology, it sometimes seems that many of his explanations of the practical impact of Avot’s mishnayot lie beyond the grasp of contemporary readers who do indeed value Torah but still must struggle to accommodate it within their busy, compartmentalised lives.

If we can overcome our feeling of distance between ourselves and Ruach Chaim, there is much in it that speaks directly to us. A good example is the author’s position on that most unfashionable of concepts, that of the need to be satisfied with what one has, to be truly appreciative of it rather than focus on what one does not possess. This principle is stated overtly in Avot 4:1 (“Who is the person who is wealthy? The person who rejoices in his portion”) and echoed in a baraita at Avot 6:6. But Reb Chaim finds further support for it elsewhere.

In Avot 4:11 Rabbi Yonatan says:

“Anyone who fulfils the Torah in poverty will ultimately fulfil it in wealth, while anyone who neglects the Torah in wealth will ultimately neglect it in poverty”.

As Reb Chaim points out, these words cannot be taken literally. As he puts it,

“We witness that many righteous people live their entire lives in grinding poverty, while wicked people enjoy a lifetime of prosperity”.

So what does the mishnah mean? He explains:

“This mishnah needs to be understood on a different level. Me’oni (“in poverty”) literally means “from poverty” or “due to poverty”. If someone realizes that his lack of wealth is a blessing, an opportunity to focus on service of Hashem without the distractions that accompany wealth, then he will be able to fulfil the Torah in wealth”.

He then references Ben Azzai (Avot 4:1, above). A person who is satisfied with his lot will not regard himself as being poor, even though he may be objectively regarded as such in purely material terms. Further comments then follow, regarding the dangers of wealth and the pursuit of it.

Today we are culturally attuned to be poverty-averse and this is quite understandable. Reb Chaim himself speaks of “grinding poverty” and we are only too aware of its impact on lives of ourselves and others. But we must still ask if, when we have the chance, we go too far and continue to flee poverty long after it has ceased to pursue us. Much of what we today label poverty would not be viewed us such in previous generations, when expectations were far lower and provision for relief was far less.

In past generations, singers could allude to poverty and strike a note with their audiences. Thus in our grandparents' time Sophie Tucker (My Yiddishe Mamma) could sing lyrics like this:

"How few were her pleasures, she never cared for fashion's styles
Her jewels and treasures she found them in her baby's smiles
Oh I know that I owe what I am today
To that dear little lady so old and gray
To that wonderful yiddishe momme of mine".

Lyrics such as this once helped to affirm social values, but they sound embarrassingly mawkish and sentimental today. In contrast, the past half-century has resounded to the compelling chorus of Abba:

Lyrics such as this once helped to affirm social values, but they sound embarrassingly mawkish and sentimental today. In contrast, the past half-century has resounded to the compelling chorus of Abba:

“Money, money, money

Must be funny

In the rich man's world

Money, money, money

Always sunny

In the rich man's world

Aha

All the things I could do

If I had a little money

It's a rich man's world

It's a rich man's world”.

Let's not forget The Beatles. Back in 1964 they expressed a similar ideal in Can't Buy Me Love:

"Say you don't need no diamond rings

And I'll be satisfied

Tell me that you want the kind of things

That money just can't buy

I don't care too much for money

Money can't buy me love."

However, by the time they released their Revolver album only two years later, in 1966, they had quite literally changed their tune and were singing, in Money (That's What I Want):

“Now give me money (That's what I want)

That's what I want (That's what I want)

That's what I want, (That's what I want), oh, yeah (That's what I want)

Money don't get everything, it's true

What it don't get, I can't use

Now give me money, (That's what I want)

That's what I want”.

These lyrics lead one to revisit the age-old question: is it better to remain an active participant in wider society and learn to resist the insistent messages we absorb effortlessly through the media, or to retreat into a smaller, safer society in which we hear only the messages coined by our sages?

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Worrying about the cure for worry?

Is having something to worry about part of the human condition? The answer probably depends on how you choose to define "worry". Some people appear to deny they worry at all ("I haven't a care in the world"; "I put my trust in God, so whatever happens is up to Him"; "If things are just meant to be, there's no point worrying about them" etc).  Others treat "worry" as one of those irregular verbs ("I have a reasoned and sincerely motivated concern"; "you worry"; "he is just a neurotic paranoid"). 

My personal belief, based on years of listening to other people talking about their feelings, is that everyone experiences a degree of worry but that (i) the level of worry is patently not the same as between different people, (ii) at different times in their own lives and (iii) when confronted by different issues. However, we do not all use the term "worry" for the same feelings. Also, many people who express the fact that they are worried find it annoying when others tell them "don't be so worried" or "there's nothing to be worried about" since these words do not remove the subject of worry but merely deny the validity of another person's feelings.

Hillel is the only contributor to Pirkei Avot to address the concept of "worry" full-on when (at Avot 2:8) he teaches, as part of a long and complex mishnah: "the more the wealth, the more the worry". These words, like many other teachings of Hillel, are brief and easy to understand. We know in our own lives that it is the rich who are more likely to live in homes that are protected by burglar alarms and security cameras, with barred windows and well-locked doors. These homes are often in areas where an additional level of protection is procured through the hire of neighbourhood security services, whose marked vehicles cruise slowly through areas where theft is thought to be more likely. The homes of those who are less affluent and have less to lose are, if protected at all, far less secure.

Yet Jewish tradition and practice do not condemn worry or the accumulation of wealth per se: these are, after all, only means by which an end may be achieved. Thus a person who works for a living is expected to look beyond the days of his productivity and to put aside the material resources that he will need in order to support himself in retirement. 

Writing a generation before Maimonides, Rabbenu Bachye ibn Paquda touches on the question of worrying about one's wealth in his Chovot HaLevavot, in the Sha'ar HaBitachon (Duties of the Heart, in the section on Trust). Citing Hillel's teaching, he reminds readers that there is an equation that links wealth to worry. In the case of putting aside enough to subsist through one's old age, this is a prudent course of action since it assuages one's worry about facing hunger and poverty when one is no longer able to help oneself. However, the very action of addressing this worry generates further worries: will the amount that a person has put away for this purpose be adequate for the purpose -- since we cannot predict how long we will live -- and will it be safe? In our own generation we have read so many times in the media of the actions of confidence tricksters who have parted pensioners from their savings, as well as of supposedly well-managed pension funds that have been tapped by those responsible for them or damaged by poor investment advice.

Where does all of this leave us? It is difficult to draw firm advice. The most obvious approach for anyone not yet of pensionable age may be to alleviate any worry by investing in a pension scheme -- and then to forget about it since no one knows the day of their death and they may run out of breath before they run out of investments. As usual, readers' thoughts and suggestions are invited.

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.