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Thoughts on Pirkei Avot -- the Ethics of the Fathers -- and on their meaning and their relevance to contemporary living
Thursday, 1 July 2021
Avot in Retrospect: a summary of last month's blogposts
Monday, 28 June 2021
Pinchas and Moshe: Thinking, Fast and Slow
Imagine the scenario. Right there, in the middle of the Israelite camp, one of the most prominent members of the establishment is locked in a passionate, uncontrollable embrace with a foreign princess. Shocked, horrified but unable to avert their gaze, the Israelites look on. Around them in the camp a plague breaks out. Rooted to the spot, they cannot move. Suddenly a young man springs into action. He grabs a spear and, with one firm thrust, skewers the pair of lovers. They instantly die and the plague ceases. This is the story of Pinchas (Phineas). It is also a tale of Pirkei Avot.
Moshe (Moses) is at this time the undisputed leader of the desert tribe. Why does he not act? We know that Moshe does not shrink from committing necessary act of violence, as we see from his killing of the Egyptian who was beating an Israelite slave (Shemot 2:11-12), and there is no reason to believe that, with his unsurpassed Torah knowledge, he had less idea than Pinchas as to what to do.
While the narrative of the killing of the Egyptian is sparse, it reveals a great deal. At Avot 2:13 Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel teaches that the “good path” to which a person should keep is one where he looks towards the outcome of his actions. Before killing the Egyptian, Moshe is already calculating the consequence of his act, looking this way and that before striking the fatal blow. Moshe exhibits this same trait when, in his encounter with God on Mount Sinai (Shemot 3, 4), he is unwilling to accept his mission to redeem his people without first working through a sequence of “what-if”s.
Pinchas is a very different character. He acts spontaneously. No-one else steps forward to kill the lovers and stop the plague—so he does. As Hillel teaches (Avot 2:6), where there is no-one else to take the initiative, whoever can do so must rise to the occasion. This principle is also seen in the decision of Zipporah to circumcise her son Gershom, spilling blood in order to save her husband Moshe’s life (Shemot 4:24-26), as well as in the aggadic and midrashic first steps into the Sea of Reeds taken by Nachshon ben Aminadav (Sotah 37a, Bemidbar Rabbah 13:7).
We cannot say that Moshe’s approach is wrong while that of Pinchas is right. This is because we are not dealing with mitzvot—commandments that usually have clearly delimited parameters. What we are talking about here are middot, ways of behaving, and their application is far less clearly defined. The performance of mitzvot ideally requires thought, understanding and an intention to fulfil God’s will. Middot, in contrast, are generally performed most efficiently when a person can train himself to perform them without any specific intention or forethought.
Although it is not a commentary on Avot, Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking, Fast and Slow, sheds much light on how we practise our middot. Some, like judging other people according to their merits (Avot 1:6), can only be done by thinking slowly, inhibiting one’s instinct to make a superficial snap judgment (as in Avot 1:1), and weighing up the evidence. Moshe, as a seasoned judge, might thus well have paused to consider not only the religious and political consequences of killing the high-status lovers but also whether there might have been any extenuating circumstances. Pinchas, in contrast, may have intuited what needed to be done. As a student of Moshe and his grandfather Aharon, his awareness of Jewish values would have been ingrained from youth, as was his understanding of God’s wishes (Avot 4:25). This being so, the instinctive reaction of Pinchas to the crisis before him is quite understandable.
Wednesday, 23 June 2021
Pirkei Avot and Pirates of the Caribbean
Much the same considerations apply to Pirkei Avot. Do its
moral precepts form a binding code of conduct, to be honoured and respected by
all? Or is it simply a list of preferences that any individual can respect or
discard at his discretion? Rabbi Elazar Ezkari in his Sefer Charedim,
regards much of the content of Avot as binding law, but most other scholars
take a more flexible view.
Conceived for children’s entertainment, this Pirates of
the Caribbean movie can actually be a valuable didactic tool in explaining
how law and morality affects any self-regulating minority. At the top of the
tree, as it were, it depicts norms that are universally binding, both on the
population at large and on pirates. The obvious example are the laws that make
piracy illegal and require the punishment of pirates. Then, by analogy to norms
that are relevant only to Jews, there are norms that are applicable only to
pirates. Thus the Pirates’ Code is addressed only to pirates and may only be
invoked by them. And, similarly to Pirkei Avot, the Pirates’ Code is observed
strictly by some but viewed by others as mere guidance.
The analogy between the Pirates’ Code and Pirkei Avot cannot
however be stretched too far. It is plain from the movie that, when a pirate
treats the Code as mere guidance, he does so in order to further his
self-interest. With Avot, however, it is understood that the breach of any of
its provisions should only be done with the objective of performing some
greater good. An obvious example is the advice to greet everyone with a happy,
smiling face (Avot 1:15) since we sadly encounter many situations in life in
which a more solemn demeanour is more appropriate.
Incidentally, in Gilbert & Sullivan’s comic opera The Pirates of Penzance, the position taken by the librettist is apparently that obligations entered into between pirates are regarded as being absolutely binding precisely because they are a matter of honour rather than legally enforceable commitments.
Sunday, 20 June 2021
Minding our language
No-one who has gone through the cycle of daf yomi
study of the Babylonian Talmud can fail to notice the robust and uninhibited way
that the rabbis of the Talmud discuss every facet of human activity. Sexual and
excretory functions, together with the organs of the body that relate to them,
play an important part in halachah and are thus a topic that demands
serious study and analysis. At this point the English daf yomi student
will have noticed a great difference between the use of language by the Tannaim
and Amoraim on the one hand, and contemporary English on the other. While it
makes frequent and sometimes graphic reference to the body-parts and functions
in question, the Talmud does not possess an explicit vocabulary for doing so,
preferring to express itself in terms of euphemism and metaphor (this is in
keeping with the teaching of the School of R’ Yishmael, Pesachim 3a, that one
should always employ decent language). English, in contrast, has a huge
vocabulary of terms anatomical, colloquial and vulgar, with which to express
the narrative of the Talmud. English-speaking rabbis are however often
ill-at-ease when it comes to choosing the right approach to discussing these
delicate topics, and there seems to be no single policy when it comes to
identifying best practice.
In my personal experience it seems to be generally the case
that words that are regarded as swear-words or offensive slang are avoided, but
the mention of both male and female body parts is contentious. I recall here
one rabbi who publicly pronounces the words “womb”, “uterus”, “thigh” and
“sodomy”—words that another rabbi of my acquaintance studiously avoids. Another,
whose shiurim I attended many years ago, managed to give a short series
of talks on circumcision without getting any more specific than words like
“organ” and “member”. A third will never say “pregnant”, even when referring to
the animal kingdom, and I was not therefore surprised to hear him speak of a
cow being “in an interesting condition”. The same applies to human waste
products, where “excrement” (which is itself a euphemism) and “urine” have been
sometimes replaced by “outgoings” or “excesses”.
Pirkei Avot 2:6 teaches that a person who is a bayeshan
(i.e. bashful and easily embarrassed) cannot easily learn Torah—but it is
silent on whether such a person cannot be a good teacher. I raise this point
because I have always been more comfortable about discussing matters of this
nature, or asking questions, with a rabbi who does not appear to me to be
uncomfortable about touching upon them. Indeed, many such rabbis do exist who
are happy to call a spade a spade, as it were. But even they will be judicious in
their choice of vocabulary. When speaking to a mixed group of university
students, for example, a different set of verbal parameters may be called for
from those employed when speaking to a group of Beit Yaakov pre-teens.
Incidentally, our sensitivities to our duties towards God as
well as fellow humans can lead to some curious anomalies. For example, one
English-speaking rabbi may pronounce the English word “God” in public but still
write it as “G-d”, while another will have no issue when it comes to writing
the word “breast” in full but would never utter it at all in his shiur.
So what then is the derech yesharah, the right path that an Anglophone rabbi should choose for himself? The advice of Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi (Avot 2:1) is to pick the route that is a credit to himself and earns himself the credit of his fellow humans. He must be sufficiently tzanua that he does not shock or embarrass others with his choice of words, but not such a bayeshan that his own discomfort does not render others uncomfortable too.
Monday, 14 June 2021
Letting others be heard
The change of government in Israel has attracted much comment, both domestically and abroad. Analysts have looked at the advantages and disadvantages of the new coalition, its strengths and its weaknesses. Some have even looked at its proposed legislative programme and its chances of turning it into law. There is however one topic that has received very little comment: the appalling standard of behaviour of many of the Members of the Knesset (MKs).
Pirkei Avot (at 5:9) teaches that one of the seven signs of a golem is that he or she interrupts the words of someone else who is speaking. Presumably this applies equally to someone who howls and screams when someone else attempts to speak, thus effectively preventing them from being held at all. Applying this standard to MKs, I am concerned that the golems in the Knesset could form a coalition of their own, since there sadly seem to be more than 61 of them -- from both the religious and the non-religious parties.
This post does not intend to recite some of the disgusting things said, and the disgraceful dispersions cast, by MKs on one other, whether inside the Knesset or beyond it -- comments, slurs and allegations that have nothing to do with party politics. It only wishes to make the point that it is only by paying respect to others that we are entitled to receive any respect ourselves (4:1). Regretfully, this post records that far too many MKs have placed themselves beyond any entitlement to receive respect from this quarter.
It would be a wonderful thing if Israel's Jewish parliamentarians could reflect a small corner of their Jewish heritage by behaving and speaking towards one other in a more appropriate manner, especially when the eyes of the world are upon them.
Sunday, 13 June 2021
When values shine through: Pirkei Avot from an unexpected source
The speaker did not quote any sources; he didn't even
mention Avot at all. This did not surprise me, since he was not a rabbi and he
was not speaking on a Jewish topic. The surprise--for anyone reading this and
who was not present at this talk--was that he was a journalist, and an Arab
Muslim, speaking on prospects for Israel, her citizens and her neighbours in
the coming months.
The occasion was this month's Rosh Chodesh Lunch Club
meeting and the speaker was Khaled Abu Toameh, an award-winning journalist with
the Jerusalem Post. His talk was crisp and concise, funny, painfully honest and
constructively critical. Remarkably, while speaking of a wide range of
politicians Israeli and Arab, Jewish and otherwise, he managed not to speak
insultingly of any of them.
Ben Zoma asks (Avot 4:1) "Who is wise?" and then
answers his own question, "the person who learns from everyone". It
was possible to do this by listening to Abu Toameh's talk -- an object lesson
in how easily one can instil the spirit of Avot into one's oral presentations
and impart its moral values without sounding preachy.
Sunday, 6 June 2021
Leadership challenges and failure at the highest level: a matter of honour
When Korach tells Moshe that he has taken too much upon
himself as the people’s leader (Bemidbar 16:3), he is not the first person to
have made this point. Moshe’s father-in-law Yitro does so in no uncertain terms
when he criticises him for making the people stand around all day while he
judges their cases (Shemot 18:14). Moshe not only concedes Yitro’s point but,
shortly before Korach’s challenge, he pointedly and eloquently complains to God
that he cannot perform his leadership role unaided (Bemidbar 11:9-15).
Unlike most of the Torah’s flawed characters, Korach is not
described as being evil. Midrashim recognise his wisdom (Bemidbar Rabbah 18:3),
and the Torah itself testifies to his family pedigree as a senior Levi and to
his charisma. Despite his wisdom and his talents, he is a man who is always
losing out. He does not become a Prince; he is not appointed as a Kohen. Some
70 elders receive the gift of prophecy but he does not. When leading tribal
personalities are appointed to spy out the Promised Land, his name is not among
them. Somehow he is always passed over.
A Mishnah (Avot 5:20) describes Korach’s dispute with the
established leaders as being the paradigm of a dispute that is “not for the
sake of Heaven”, in contrast with the disputes between Hillel and Shammai whose
arguments sought to clarify God’s will. Yitro had nothing to gain from his
criticism of Moshe, any more than Hillel and Shammai stood to gain if one of
them should out-reason the other. Korach however sought a wider distribution of
powers and responsibilities within the Israelite camp that would enable him to
enjoy greater kavod (honour) and status in the eyes of others—an aim that could
scarcely be described as “for the sake of Heaven”.
Korach was a member of the generation that received both the
written Torah and its oral counterpart, of which Avot is a key component. That
tractate contains much guidance that could have steered Korach away from his
path to self-destruction. For example, it would advise him to be content with
his lot (4:1, 6:6), to judge Moshe favourably and not view him as seeking to
cling on to the reins of power for his own glory (1:6). If this was
insufficient, he would be warned against seeking power and authority (1:10)
unless there was no-one else to lead the people (2:6). On a positive basis, he
would have appreciated that it is those who work on behalf of the community
“for the sake of Heaven” who derive assistance through the merits of their
forebears (2:2): with a little introspection he might have asked himself whether
in all honesty he possessed this quality.
Where does this leave Israel’s disputatious and fissiparous
politicians? There is a widely-held perception that politicians are ambitious,
self-seeking and concerned only to promote the sectarian interests of their
supporters for the sake of their own glorification. But is kavod today still
just a, simple reflection of one’s power and authority?
In the modern era, the public perception of leading politicians has become increasingly critical and even cynical. Recent events appear to show that they now have to earn kavod through what they do and how they do it, rather than expect it as a perk that accompanies their status. Fortunately, for anyone who wants to acquire honour, Avot has a recipe for that too. Asking the question, “Who is honoured?”, Ben Zoma answers “He who honours others”. When politicians truly respect and honour one other, despite their differences in political, religious, economic and social ideologies, they will have taken the first steps towards earning the respect of the electorate too.
"If not now, when?" Justice through the prism of Pirkei Avot
The Wisconsin Jewish Chronicle reports on a virtual event tomorrow:
“If not now, when?” Join Tapestry: Arts & Ideas from the Harry & Rose Samson Family Jewish Community Center, with support from the Milwaukee Rep, for a concert experience on June 7 at 7:30 p.m. Attendees will envision justice through the prism of Pirkei Avot (the Talmudic “Ethics of the Fathers”) and the beauty of Broadway songs. Sponsored by the Libby Temkin Endowment for the Arts with additional funding provided by the Daniel M. Soref Charitable Trust and the Suzy B. Ettinger Foundation. Register at JCCMilwaukee.org/Tapestry. This is a virtual event.
The idea of Tapestry: Arts & Ideas is explained on the Community Center's website as follows:
More than a fun night out, a beautiful painting on the wall, or a good read on the bedside table, arts and ideas is a connection – through generations, across geography, and beyond our differences. Through performance, conversation, and exhibitions, we find a new language for exploring what unites us.
Our cornerstone program, Tapestry, is about celebration, exploration, and building a community through the arts. From the annual Milwaukee Jewish Film Festival to the year-round exhibitions and cultural events, Tapestry explores Jewish history, tradition, life, and future in a way the entire community can appreciate.
I'm all in favour of using any and every available social medium for the further exploration and appreciation of Pirkei Avot, and this all looks quite intriguing. If anyone is participating, it would be great to hear from them!
Friday, 4 June 2021
Binary Choices and Missing Metaphors
Uniquely among Mishnaic tractates, Avot does not concern
itself with the elucidation of any Biblical laws. Its concern, as Rabbi Ovadyah
of Bartenura reminds us, is with matters of morality—and these are matters
where the binary approach breaks down. More recently, Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz has
observed that the choice of an ethical path, in one’s personal life and in
business, is often a choice between different options that cannot be described
in absolute terms as good because they are in reality an exercise in damage
limitation: which path do I take that is the least bad and causes the smallest
amount of harm to others?
Without a binary perspective of good-or-bad, right-or-wrong,
the light-versus-darkness metaphor is at best ineffective, at worst completely
inappropriate. In the world of moral choices, light and dark are replaced by shades
of grey. Could this be why Avot, a tractate that is more richly endowed than
any other with metaphor and simile, makes no mention at all of light or
darkness?
Wednesday, 2 June 2021
Wise after the event: who is a 'chacham'?
He [Alexander] said to them: “Who is called wise?” They replied: “Who is wise? He who discerns what is about to come to pass [literally “what is about to be born”].”
This raises the questions: do both definitions identify the same person as a chacham? If not, are they contradictory or complementary?
There is no reason why the two definitions should not be satisfied in the same individual. Ben Zoma’s definition looks towards how the chacham obtains knowledge of that which is already known to others, while that of the Elders of the South focuses on how he obtains as-yet unknown knowledge by drawing inferences from that which is already known to him. These two approaches may be perfectly complementary if the mishnah refers to the process of obtaining chochmah ("wisdom") by learning from all people, while the Talmud alludes to the intellectual performance potential of someone who, having undergone that process, has a greater sensitivity to the chain of cause and effect that enables him to take a more accurate and realistic view of the future.
Why did the Elders of the South offer Alexander a different answer to that given by Ben Zoma? It is possible that they were unaware of it in that form. While we learn that the mishnah is Oral Law that has been handed down in a continuous chain of tradition that began with the Giving of the Law at Mount Sinai (Avot 1:1), we also know that the same teaching was sometimes packaged in different verbal formulae, so it is possible that the answer given by the Elders of the South was intended to mean the same thing as Ben Zoma’s answer. We could also turn this question on its head and ask why Ben Zoma did not give the same answer as the Elders of the South. After all, Alexander of Macedon lived and died around 400 years before Ben Zoma and some 500 years before Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi both saved and popularised the vital corpus of the Oral Torah by compiling Avot and the other tractates that make up the Mishnah.
A further explanation may be offered, one which looks more closely at Greek philosophy. Alexander was a pupil of Aristotle, whose thoughts and writings on political philosophy would have greatly influenced him. Aristotle was himself a student of Plato, whose extensive writings focus on the life and methodology of his own teacher, Socrates. Today Socrates is principally remembered for what is called the Socratic method -- a type of question-and-answer dialogue that seeks to stimulate critical thinking by isolating the premises upon which a person’s arguments are based. This method is particularly successful as a way of showing people that the positions they hold are wrong, or that they are not based on the premises claimed for them. Socrates repeatedly demonstrated this technique by asking questions of, and learning from the answers of, craftsmen and artisans as well as other philosophers. In this respect Socrates reflected Ben Zoma’s maxim regarding learning from everyone. Aristotle’s approach was quite different from that of the Platonic school. He was more concerned with the building of systems, whether in the physical world or in terms of the social and political behaviour of man.
We might conjecture that, when Alexander asked the Elders of the South who was wise, he was curious to see if they were followers of Aristotle like he was, or whether they supported the approach followed by Socrates. The Elders of the South, understanding that Alexander was trying to lead them into an argument which might have serious adverse consequences for them, tactfully let him know that they could see what he was up to, letting him know that they were wise enough to see the direction in which he was seeking to steer his interrogation of them and would therefore take steps to avoid a philosophical confrontation with him.
Now for one final observation. The Elders of the South considered that wisdom was a matter of looking ahead in order to predict the likely outcome of events. In colloquial English, one sometimes hears of a person being “wise after the event.” These words should not be conceived as even a mild compliment: they are a sharp reminder that anyone can be wise when events have unfolded and it is too late for that wisdom to be of any use. As the Elders of the South indicate, it is only before the future has revealed its course that a person’s wisdom should be praised as such.
Tuesday, 1 June 2021
Avot in Retrospect: a summary of last month's blogposts
In case you missed them, here's a list of items posted on Avot Today in May 2021:
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Thursday, 27 May 2021
Avot Today is now on Facebook
This blog now has a Facebook Group that is designed to facilitate participation in discussions on topics relating to Pirkei Avot. You can find this group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/avottoday
If you would like to start any discussion about Pirkei Avot, or if you want this blog or the Facebook Group to host any ideas that you would like to share, please email me at jjip398@gmail.com
Wednesday, 26 May 2021
Truth, justice and peace: which is the "odd man out"?
Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel teaches (at Avot 1:18) that the world is sustained by three things -- truth, justice and peace. Which is the odd one out?
My initial thought was that there was only one "odd man out", and that was peace. Take litigation, for example. When a legal dispute goes to court, the plaintiff and defendant both believe that they are in the right, or they wouldn’t go to the trouble of engaging in court proceedings. However, they know that there can only be one outcome. This outcome can be reached in one of two ways: either the court will rule in favour of one and against the other, or they will agree to settle their differences before the court gives its decision. Either way, one starts with two perspectives as to what is true, which give rise to diverse perceptions of what is justice (“mine” and “yours,” as it were). The dispute concludes with just one result, which both sides have to accept.
With
peace, however, we have a different concept. There are not “two peaces”, since
peace by definition only begins at the point where there are no opposing
positions to synthesize. If what is called “peace” is not universally accepted
by those affected by it, it is not true peace.
It occurred to me this morning that there is another possible answer: it is justice that is the odd one out. Truth is vulnerable to distortion and denial (we can infer from Avot 5:9 that it is of no use unless it is acknowledged) and therefore needs to be protected. God is described in Psalms as the eternal guardian of truth (Tehillim 146:6). Peace must also be guarded, hence the term "mishmeret shalom" ("guardianship of peace") that is recited in the text of the Grace After Meals and the congregational response to the blessing of the Kohanim. I am not however aware of any corresponding description of any protection or guardianship for justice. Have I missed anything, and does the fact that truth and peace need to be protected, while justice apparently does not, have any repercussions for our understanding of Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel's teaching?
Sunday, 23 May 2021
Links in the chain of tradition: why "zakenim" and not "shofetim""?
A possible answer might be that the term "shofetim" has a somewhat negative connotation. This is apparent from commentaries on the opening verse of the Book of Ruth ("In the days when the judges judged...). Zakenim has no such negative connotation: the word is treated as a notarikon of the Hebrew words Zeh koneh chochmah ("this person has acquired wisdom").
Another possible answer is that the shofetim were not entirely an unbroken sequence, which might suggest a break in the chain of tradition.
Any other suggestions?
Thursday, 20 May 2021
Nothing to do with real women after all?
It is however possible to explain this part of the Mishnah in a
completely different way, one that has nothing to do with women and with men’s
attitudes to women. The explanation runs like this. “Woman” in this context does not refer to female human beings. Rather, it is a metaphor for the yetzer hara, the seductive evil inclination
that we all possess, men and women alike. It is well known that humans cannot
exist, procreate and develop their own character if they have no yetzer
hara at all, or if they have one but pay no attention to it—but they
should not engage overmuch with it.
Taking the metaphor further, the chachamim note
that one should not engage in too much sichah with “one’s
friend’s wife” either. This is because many socially destructive activities, of
which adultery is the most obvious example, require the cooperation of one’s
own yetzer hara with someone else’s. Take care,
therefore, not to let your evil inclination engage with the evil inclination of your friend.
Is this explanation implausible and far-fetched? One can make out a case for “woman” being a metaphor for the evil inclination, a symbol of seduction, persuasion and guile that will ensnare a good person of either gender and lead him or her off the desired path in circumstances in which brute force is not available or effective. Such a use of “woman” as a metaphor for the yetzer hara has a counterpart in the Book of Proverbs, where the temptation to abandon one’s Judaism and follow idol worship is described as “a strange woman, a foreign woman” (Proverbs 2:16-17, per Rashi, who makes the same association at 6:24), a woman who forgets the husband of her former days. The same alien woman is also depicted as “the lusting soul” whose influence runs counter to a person’s intellect (Proverbs 7:5, per Gersonides). Later, the “foolish woman” says to passers-by who are devoid of understanding: “stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten secretly is more pleasing” (Proverbs 9:13-17, this being generally taken as an allusion to the attractions of adultery).
The question facing us today is whether we can stretch the metaphor further and generalize this sort of use of the word “woman” into an indication of every direction in which the evil inclination can pull a person. If we do, there is at least some precedent in the Cairo Geniza, where the first folio of a midrashic text (Document T-S e4.10) deals with metaphorical interpretations of the theme of the ‘wife’ in the Torah based on a treatment of the “good woman” as the good inclination and the “evil woman” is the yetzer hara.