Self-trust and self-delusion

At Avot 2:5, Hillel teaches that a person should not trust him- or herself until the day of one's death.

The point of Hillel’s teaching here is subtle. We do trust ourselves to do the right thing, even in the face of temptation, external pressure or forgetfulness. We do so on a daily basis and on the assumption that there is no-one whom we can trust better than ourselves – but this self-belief is likely to be misplaced since the experience we share with most of humanity is that we are deluding ourselves.

Consider the following. Has it ever happened to you that, leaving home to go to synagogue, visit a friend or do some shopping, you have picked up a letter that you intended to post. Returning home later, you find the unposted letter in your pocket. And have you never been certain that you turned the light off, taken the eggs off the cooker or collected your scarf from the coat-rack, only to discover that this was not in fact the case?

Episodes of this nature happen to more or less everybody if they are honest enough to admit it – but people do not consider themselves any the less trustworthy for it: they simply rationalize their error (“I was momentarily distracted;” “I was in a terrible hurry;” “It was meant to happen”) and carry on trusting themselves.

In these situations, the only thing that has gone wrong is that we have inadvertently slipped up. We didn’t want to, but we did. Now consider what might be the case when we would actually prefer to slip up and deviate from our usual good conduct. Every individual has a yetzer hara (“Evil Inclination”), a little voice inside even the best of us that occasionally tries to persuade or cajole us into error. That voice might be telling us to do something a bit mischievous and capricious, like playing an embarrassing practical joke on a friend, or it might be encouraging us to commit an act that is quite dishonest, like finding a valuable item that belongs to someone we know but deciding not to give it back. Can we really trust ourselves to do the right thing when that little voice inside us speaks so appealingly, when we shouldn’t really be trusting ourselves even when it’s silent?

Hillel offers no quick trick or easy solution. He only asks us to be aware of our own fallibility so that we can try to guard against it.

The unexpected test

The fifth chapter of Avot (at 5:4) recites that Abraham was tested by God with ten tests (all of which the Patriarch passed) in order to make a show of how dearly Abraham regarded Him. Much has inevitably been written on this topic. Questions such as (i) which are the ten tests, (ii) why any number from one to nine wouldn't have done just as well and (iii) which was the greatest test continue to be debated.

This post focuses on one small issue: the consideration that a person being tested may know perfectly well that he is being tested, but might still not know what the test actually is. The following episode, drawn from the lower strata of the world of finance, illustrates the point well.

Back in the 1980s a friend of mine was a trainee bank manager with the National Westminster Bank in London. Part of the way through the training programme, all the trainees were given a test. They were ushered into a room full of desks, on each of which was a test paper that was several pages in length, together with an answer book. The test paper opened with the following rubric: “Please read this paper carefully. Do not attempt to answer any of the questions before you have finished reading this paper”.

My friend obediently read through the questions without writing anything, even though he knew most of the answers and didn't need to think too deeply about them. He could so easily have completed those questions as he went along. At the very end of the test paper, he was surprised to read the following rubric: “Do not write any of the answers to the questions on this paper”.

It transpired that the real purpose of the test was not to see what the trainee bank managers knew but to reveal whether they were capable of carrying out the simple instruction of not writing anything until they had finished reading the test paper. My friend was the only person who passed that test.

The salutary lesson of this exercise—we may know that we are being tested but still not recognize what we are being tested on—is even more applicable when it is God and not a bank that sets the tests. We do not know how greatly aware Abraham was that he was being tested, but we do see from the Torah how his willingness and determination to carry out God's instructions as closely as possible meant that he could pass his tests whether or not he was aware of how he was being tested.

With great respect? How we view our rabbis

Rabbi Elazar ben Shammua says, “Let the honour of your student be as dear to you as your own; and the honour of your friend should be like fear of your teacher—and fear of your teacher should be like fear of Heaven” (Avot 4:15). We don't usually fear our teachers these days, but the Hebrew word mora, translated here as "fear", can also mean a deep and sincerely felt respect. On this basis the mishnah speaks of something that comes rather closer to our own experiences.

Here's a thought about how we respect some of our principal Jewish teachers, our communal rabbis.

It seems to me that, at least since the 1960s and the dawn of the teshuvah movement, one can divide Jewish communities into three broad categories.

The first consists of communities that are far from the epicentre of Jewish life, either in geographical or spiritual terms, and where the level of knowledge and commitment to learning within that community is relatively modest.

The second consists of communities where the average standard of attainment in terms of religious knowledge and practice is quite considerable, and where its members have the confidence and the capability to participate actively in synagogue services and learning programmes.

The third is made up of communities where the level of knowledge and commitment is extremely high, and where the majority of congregants may well be rabbis themselves -- or may have spent several years in full-time Torah learning before entering a profession, business or trade.

In the first category, respect for the rabbi is likely to be high since he possesses a suite of talents that may not be replicated to any great extent within his community. These might include the ability to read unpunctuated and vowel-less Hebrew and Aramaic text fluently, knowledge of how to officiate at weddings, funerals, a broad range of pastoral skills, and the like.

In the third group too, respect for the rabbi is likely to be high since the congregants, who likely share the rabbi’s linguistic and learning skills, are in a position to appreciate its quality and know how much time and effort he would have had to expend in order to acquire them. They will be able to savour the subtleties of his sermons and shiurim, and they may seek his advice with their most difficult and delicate personal and professional issues.

In the middle category, however, it seems to me that the rabbi is likely to receive less respect. This is because his congregants may have enough knowledge, learning and commitment to be able to challenge his rulings and test his learning, but may lack sufficient patience, willingness or understanding to enable them to accept his decisions and appreciate his answers. Here, superimposed upon the rabbi-congregation relationship, is something that is almost akin to sibling rivalry: he is a sort of older brother, entitled to respect and often genuinely loved, but generally vulnerable to challenge and sometimes ignored or taken for granted. It is within this middle ground, therefore, that the practical challenge of respecting the rabbi is put to the greatest test.

Comments, anyone?

Fire, worms -- and a book that never came in from the cold

The fourth chapter of Avot contains one of its shortest and most powerful messages when Rabbi Levitas of Yavneh teaches: “Be exceedingly humble, since the hope of man is the worm” (Avot 4:4). Where does this salutary and sobering message come from?

Nearly 400 years before Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi included this teaching when compiling the Mishnah (c.180-200 CE), we find broadly similar words in the original Hebrew version of the Book of Ben Sira from which the Greek translation (a.k.a. Ecclesiasticus) was produced. This Greek translation adds a little heat to the Hebrew:

“Humble yourself to the uttermost, for the doom of the impious is fire and worms”.

The Book of Ben Sira never made it into the canon Jewish holy books (the “Tanach”). It is possible that this work was excluded from the canon because it contained no explicit endorsement of the notion of a World to Come—a fundamental tenet of Jewish belief. For readers of Ecclesiasticus, the worms may have appeared to be the final port of call for the dead, with nothing to come beyond them. If this is correct, the addition of “fire” in the Greek translation may have been an attempt to make Ben Sira’s teachings more palatable to Jewish readers, presumably on the basis that even a World to Come that was stoked by purifying fire was preferable to no such World at all.

By the time of Rabbi Levitas (c.100 CE) there was no longer any serious rabbinical argument over the existence of a World to Come, so his Mishnah would not have been considered a statement that had anything to do with it. Rather, it would have been read as a message regarding the imperative importance of shiflut ruach, “lowliness of spirit.”

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 June 2021:

Monday 28 June 2021: Pinchas and Moshe: thinking, fast and slow. When it comes to decision-making, two major biblical figures clearly have different approaches, with repercussions for how we understand Avot.

Wednesday 23 June 2021: Pirkei Avot and Pirates of the Caribbean. A popular movie reflects the critical difference between mitzvot and middot.

Sunday 20 June 2021: Minding our language. Some teachers of Torah and other subjects are squeamish about mentioning certain body-parts and bodily functions. Is this an issue?

Monday 14 June 2021: Letting others be heard. The dreadful behaviour of some of Israel's elected parliamentarians falls foul of Avot's "golem" test.

Sunday 13 June 2021: When values shine through: Pirkei Avot from an unexpected source.  A non-rabbinical speaker at Jerusalem's Hanassi synagogue has plainly imbibed its value system.

Sunday 6 June 2021: Leadership challenges and failure at the highest level: a matter of honour. What does Korach's rebellion against Moses have to do with Pirkei Avot?

Sunday 6 June 2021: "If not now, when?" Justice through the prism of Pirkei Avot:  A note on an imaginative cultural event.

Friday 4 June 2021: Binary choices and missing metaphors: a look at how language is used in Jewish learning, asking why the popular "light-versus-dark" metaphor does not appear in Avot.

Wednesday 2 June 2021: Wise after the event: who is a Chacham? If the "right" answer is "the person who learns from everyone", why was Alexander of Macedon given a quite different answer in the Talmud? 

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

Avot Today blogposts for May 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for April 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for March 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for February 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for January 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for December 2020 here

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.

Pirkei Avot and Pirates of the Caribbean

There’s a running gag in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003). It concerns the Pirates’ Code. Is this Code a set of binding rules or does it merely offer guidelines? Much excitement and swashbuckling action turns on the answer to this question, since a pirate who considers the Code to offer no more than suggestions for correct conduct is free to decide whether to comply with it or not.

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.

Minding our language

Pirkei Avot 6:1 features a list of 29 qualities that apply to someone who studies Torah for its own sake. Tucked into this list and somewhere towards the end is the description of such a person as tzanua. We understand this word to mean “modest” and it is not immediately clear why the attribute of modesty is particularly relevant to one who studies Torah for its own sake. Early commentators on Avot, if they mention being tzanua at all, sometimes link it to the attribute of being patient that is listed immediately after it—discreet patience being one of the hallmarks of a good teacher. Nowadays, being tzanua may have quite a different practical significance, as will be suggested below.

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.

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.

Avot also reminds us of the inconvenient fact that all of us -- even MKs -- are created in the image of God (3:18). One might feel tempted to draw from this mishnah the conclusion that one should at least accord some outward form of respect to other people, whatever thoughts we may cherish in our hearts and minds.

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.

When values shine through: Pirkei Avot from an unexpected source

At Beit Knesset Hanassi (Rechavia, Jerusalem) last week, I attended a great talk that had a lot to do with Pirkei Avot. The guest speaker touched upon the importance of not jumping to general conclusions on the initial assessment of another person (Avot 1:1 -- be deliberate in judgment), as well as the need to treat others with respect if you want them to respect you (Avot 4:1). He also emphasized the benefits to be derived by maintaining good relations with one's neighbours and the value of always acknowledging the truth, however uncomfortable and painful that might be (Avot 5:9).

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.

Leadership challenges and failure at the highest level: a matter of honour

Following a week in which Israeli news has been dominated by political intrigue and unlikely alliances, the Torah directs our attention to Korach’s failed challenge to Moshe and Aharon’s leadership of Israel. Can this parashah offer an ethical commentary on Israel’s contemporary leadership battle, now that a cross-party campaign to dethrone another long-time leader seems poised to succeed?

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!

Binary Choices and Missing Metaphors

Lawyers, and those who think like them, can easily slip into a conveniently binary frame of mind when navigating their passage through life.  Actions are either permitted or forbidden, good or bad; there is a right way and a wrong way, and so on.  One of the most frequently-used metaphors for this binary approach to life is that of “light” as a symbol of that which is good or right, and “darkness” for that which is bad or wrong.  Indeed, it is difficult to read through Psalms, the Book of Proverbs or the aggadic parts of the Babylonian Talmud without spotting this.

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?

Wise after the event: who is a 'chacham'?

In the mishnah at Avot 4:1, Ben Zoma defines a chacham ("wise person") as someone who learns from everyone—but this is not the only definition. In the Talmud (Tamid 31b-32a) we learn an aggadic tale that Alexander of Macedon posed ten questions of the Elders of the South. One of them was about the chacham. The Talmud reads like this:

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.

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:

Thursday 27 May 2021: Avot Today is Now on Facebook: A shameless plug for the launch of a parallel outlet for news and views on Pirkei Avot, one that is more amenable to discussion.

Tuesday 26 May 2021: Truth, Peace and Justice -- Which is the "Odd Man Out"? According to Avot 1:18, the world survives on the basis of three critically important values. Are they of equal value, though?

Sunday 23 May 2021: Links in the Chain of Tradition: why "Zakenim" and not "Shofetim"?  Avot 1:1 may have good reason for categorising the transmitters of the Oral Torah from the days of Joshua till the era of Eli as "Elders" rather than "Judges"

Thursday 20 May 2021: Nothing to Do With Real Women After All? Avot 1:5's advice about not talking to women may cause offence, but it can be read quite innocently with very little effort.

Wednesday 19 May 2021: Imrei Yaakov -- another of Avot's "Forgotten Books": Rabbi Yaakov Henech Cymerman's commentary on Avot, published in 1955, seems to have sunk without trace.

Friday 14 May 2021: Bad Neighbours and Non-Existent Punctuation: Nittai HaArbeli's teaching at Avot 1:7 can be given radically different meanings if one adopts the anachronistic technique of inserting punctuation.

Thursday 13 May 2021: Fathers and Funerals: A Message for the Living: A quote from Avot opens funeral services in Jerusalem. It mentions death but is intended for those still alive.

Monday 3 May 2021: For Better or Verse: It sometimes happens that a verse cited in support of a proposition in Avot has no apparent connection with it. Avot 5:21 is an example. Need we worry?

Sunday 2 May 2021: Avot and Educational Policy: Avoiding Extremes: discussing Avot 1:1, some rabbis prefer more teachers, others say that fewer but better is the most advantageous approach.

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

Avot Today blogposts for April 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for March 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for February 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for January 2021 here

Avot Today blogposts for December 2020 here

Avot Today blogposts for November 2020 here