Miriam's complaint: Drawing the wrong conclusion?

One of the most tantalising passages in the Torah's Book of Bemidbar tells of the punishment of Miriam for speaking about her younger brother Moses. The Torah narrative consists of 16 verses: Miriam and Aaron both observe that not merely Moses but they too are prophets; God hears, reprimands them, displays His anger with them, praises Moses’ qualities, explains why Moses’ prophecy is of a different order from theirs, then punishes Miriam with tzora’at, for which she must be quarantined for a week. Aaron is not explicitly punished.

Commentators on the Torah raise and discuss many questions, and there is much to ask. For example, why does the narrative twice mention that Moses married a Cushite woman, a detail that neither Miriam nor God appear to address? What indeed is a “Cushite woman”? Why is Miriam punished for speaking words that are true, and why does Aaron escape punishment? What has the statement that Moses was exceedingly humble have to do with the dialogue between God and his siblings and with the nature of his prophetic ability? And are Miriam and Aaron, who are themselves among the most righteous members of the generation leaving Egypt, not entitled to pass comment on their younger brother, given that they are his loyal supporters and are hardly seeking to overthrow him or challenge his authority?

Midrash picks up on this incident and fleshes it out with details not found in the Torah. Thus the description of Moses’ wife Zipporah as a “Cushite” was an allusion to her beauty. Moses was however no longer engaging in marital relations; his level of prophecy and intimacy with God was so high that he had to be constantly on-call, always ready to receive a divine message. Miriam and Aaron also received prophecy, but with neither the urgency nor the clarity with which Moses did so. Their prophecy therefore came only while they were asleep or in a trance. Being a humble and modest man, Moses did not tell his siblings that he received his prophecy at a higher level than they did; nor did he broadcast the fact that he had suspended marital relations with Zipporah, a state of affairs that Miriam deduced from Zipporah’s failure to wear ornaments or from overhearing Zipporah’s expression of sympathy for the wives of the 70 auxiliary prophets whom God asked Moses to select earlier in the same parashah. Miriam and Aaron spoke of the fact that they too were prophets on the assumption that, if they could still receive divine messages while conducting a normal marriage, it should have been possible for Moses to do likewise. This constituted lashon hara—inadmissible speech concerning another person—for which Miriam was punished, tzora’at being the punishment traditionally linked with lashon hara. Aaron escaped tzora’at, either because he was wearing priestly garments at the time or because, seeing Miriam in her afflicted state, he immediately applied the lesson to himself and repented.

There are numerous variations on the theme sketched out above, but it does represent a sort of midrashic consensus as to what the Torah narrative is about. What’s more, these midrashim seem to have cohered into a sort of Torah fact supplement. Ultimately, though, midrashim remain midrashim. If this was indeed what happened in factual terms, we might be asking why God chose to omit from His holy narrative so many facts that vest this episode with meaning.

Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, in his Ma’amar al Ha’Aggadot, reminds students of midrashic and aggadic literature that it is capable of being understood on more than one level. At the simplest level it may be read as plain fact, and some aggadic material is so sober and credible when read in conjunction with the Torah that it can be hard to view it any other way. Other such material is so fantastic, or so greatly contradicted by other midrashic writing, that one struggles to view it as having any literal narrative content at all.  Where midrash is capable of being learned on more than one level, a person should be slow to say that one approach is “right” while another is “wrong”, particularly when we recall that the authors of midrash did not tell us how to read their teachings. In some cases we have to concede that we cannot learn from them at all: they are effectively written in code and we have lost the key.

Is there then a different way to extract a teaching from this story of Amram and Yocheved’s stellar offspring?  

In his pirush on the Torah, Malbim takes a fresh view of this episode. Yes, Moses has a beautiful wife but has separated from her—and, yes, while all three siblings are prophets only Moses has taken this serious and controversial step. Malbim however suggests that Miriam and Aaron were under a misapprehension.  They had no doubt as to Moses’ humility or his greater quality as a prophet and a servant of God. Where they went wrong is that they thought too highly of their brother. They believed that Moses’ prophecy was at such a supernal level that, to all intents and purposes, the word of God entered directly into his nefesh, his soul, and that his nefesh was so pure that it was quite unaffected by any tumah, ritual impurity, that might affect his body. On that basis he could continue to have a physical relationship with Zipporah without in any sense affecting his ability to receive communications from God on an ongoing basis, at any time of the day and night and regardless of what he was doing.

Malbim makes no reference to Pirkei Avot, but his explanation ties in wll with that tractate. What, in other words, was the mistake that Miriam and Aaron made? They believed that they had assessed Moses’ conduct appropriately and that they were entitled to do so. As prophets themselves they fulfilled Hillel’s condition of not judging another until one was in his particular position (Avot 2:5). On this basis they then assumed that Moses had unnecessarily separated from Zipporah when they should have realised that Moses had a good reason for doing so, a reason that it was not for him to disclose to them. They should have judged him lekaf zechut (Avot 1:6), giving him credit for a decision that they did not understand, rather than concluding that he had in any way done the wrong thing.

In taking this line, Malbim detaches from Miriam and Aaron the obloquy of facing divine displeasure and censure for exchanging words of lashon hara. Rather, they demonstrate both the importance of judging others favourably and the potentially serious consequences of failing to do so: when it comes to our attitudes towards our fellow humans, the wrongful thought can be as dangerous as the wrongful word.

Book launch: please do come!

If you are in Jerusalem on Tuesday 21 June, you are cordially invited to my book launch presentation (details in the notice that appears below).

This event should be fun. The object of the exercise is not to sell copies of the book but to sell the idea that Pirkei Avot deserves to be seriously studied and internalised. 

I can promise a bright and cheerful PowerPoint display and a chance to discuss plenty of exciting topics with fellow enthusiasts.

I'd be both delighted and honoured if members of this Group are able to attend.

If you do so, please make yourself known to me at the end so that I can say "hello".

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Taking a partner

One of the three teachings of Nitai HaArbeli at Avot 1:7 is אַל תִּתְחַבֵּר לָרָשָׁע ("don't cleave to a wicked person").

Most commentators on this part of the mishnah discuss the damage that a person suffer, directly or by association, when he or she keeps bad company. The rasha (the wicked person) is contrasted unfavourably with the tzaddik (the righteous person), whose good qualities will ideally rub off on you. So long as you can tell a tzaddik from a rasha, you should have no problems.

Rabbi Eliezer Papo, author of the popular mussar book Pele Yo'etz, also wrote a three-volume work on halachah, the Chesed LaAlafim. In this work he takes time out from laying down the law in order to pursue at very great length a subject that is clearly of great interest to him -- Jewish business ethics.

In the Chesed LaAlafim (vol 1, siman 156, se'if 26) he relates Nitai's teaching to the choice of a business partner. Do not enter into partnership with a bad person, he argues, even if that person is apparently successful and everything is going right for him. You will never be able to trust him. R' Papo does not insist that one go into a partnership only with a tzaddik, which would be a most impractical piece of advice, but only that one avoid someone whose morals and business ethics are poor. Later in the same siman he adds two further criteria for a suitable business partner. First, that person must be open in his dealings and not do anything behind the other partner's back Secondly, that person must be open and above-board when he accounts for his trading activities.

Reading this advice, I was reminded of a discussion I had with my late father, a lawyer, some 50 years ago. He was at that time in partnership with another lawyer. One of the small but regular income streams of their practice came from fees received from people who needed to swear an affidavit (a written statement confirmed by oath or affirmation, for use as evidence in court).

My father's partner told him that he should not go to the trouble of putting the fees received through the partnership accounts since they were of such a trivial nature. This left my father wondering: if my partner tells me not to put some of the money I earn through the firm's accounts, what income might he not be putting through the firm's accounts?" That's not to say that my father's partner was actually a rasha, but I could see how his apparent generosity towards my father generated suspicion and was not conducive to mutual trust.

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 2022:

Monday 30 May: Mysterious Manuscript from Maine: an unsigned hand-written commentary on Pirkei Avot has been found in Auburn, Maine. Does anyone know about its author or origin?

Friday 27 May 2022: Partygate, or When Lies Won't Work, Try Telling the Truth: there are seven ways (Avot 5:9) to tell a wise man from an immature clod. One involves acknowledging the truh. How does this apply to the British prime minister's Christmas party scandal? 

Tuesday 24 May 2022: Pirkei Avot: A Users' Guide. This is my new book -- three whole volumes dedicated to the Ethics of the Fathers and what an ancient Jewish ethical guide can teach us today.

Sunday 22 May 2022: Breakfast with Bachye, or When a Leader Leads Others Astray: how does one deal with proof verses drawn from the Tanach? Should they be allowed to narrow the focus of mishnayot of Avot?

Thursday 19 May 2022: More on mazikim. Many people still believe that demons exist, but they have no place in Avot according to the late Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz.

Tuesday 17 May 2022: Rendering unto Caesar: Is there any connection between Rabbi Elazar Ish Bartota's teaching about extreme charity and a famous New Testament quote?

Monday 16 May 2022: Praying for Putin? A famous mishnah in Avot tells us to pray for the welfare of the government. How far does this apply?

Sunday 15 May 2022: Foundation of Faith. The late Rabbi Norman Lamm's thoughts on Pirkei Avot have been edited by Rabbi Mark Dratch and published by the OU.

Friday 13 May 2022: "How to handle a woman" -- or oneself? A surprise answer in a rabbinical "Meet and Greet" session has some fascinating practical repercussions for those who live by Avot.

Tuesday 10 May 2022: The steamship, not the cemetery: fighting fascism with Avot. A slender 1945 translation and commentary on Avot by the then Chief Rabbi of the British Empire sheds fascinating light on the Jewish response to institutional evil.

Sunday 8 May 2022: Recommended reading: not so easy. A request for suggestions as to which commentary on Avot one should read should not be answered without first giving serious thought to what the prospective reader really wants.

Friday 6 May 2022: Thinking, fast and slow -- the case of the charity appeals. I received two appeals in the post, one of which looked quite unmeritorious when compared with the other. Would a closer look change my opinion?

Thursday 5 May 2022: Meiri on Avot: a new translation. Feldheim and Rabbi Yehudah Bulman have combined to produce a handsome and highly legible English translation of a venerable classic commentary.

Tuesday 3 May 2022: It's only worms. Pirkei Avot features no fewer than three species of worm. Why, and do any of them have any teeth?

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Avot Today blogposts for April 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for March 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for February 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for January 2022 here
Avot Today blogposts for December 2021 here
Avot Today blogposts for November 2021 here

 

Mystery manuscript from Maine

I recently spotted this short article in the Jewish Press on a mystery commentary. In this article (“A Pirkei Avot From a Forgotten Jewish Community In Maine” by Israel Mizrahi, 12 Iyar 5782/13 May 2022) the author writes:

A timely acquisition I made this week is of a beautiful manuscript commentary on Pirkei Avot written by the rabbi of a long forgotten Jewish community in Auburn, Maine. Written in a fluid Eastern European Hebrew script, the writer, clearly a learned individual, describes his manuscript as the basis for his Pirkei Avot shiur in Auburn during the year 5688 (1928) in congregation Beth Avraham.

The author then goes on to describe in brief the history of this community. I wrote to ask him if he had any further clues concerning this manuscript, to which I received the following reply:

It is unsigned but from what I can make out, the rabbi there at the time was a Rabbi S. Levine.

I wonder if any members of this group know anything about this manuscript, the rabbi or of his interest in Pirkei Avot. Might he be connected in some way with a contemporary scholar with an interest in the same subject, Rabbi Chanoch Zundel (“Zindel”) Levine, whose Derashot Shelemot on Pirkei Avot was published in New York in 1936?

Partygate, or When Lies Won't Work, Try Telling the Truth

What is Partygate? The word is now firmly embedded in the English psyche, but I suspect that people who live outside the UK may be less intimately familiar with the Partygate saga.

In short, during a period in which the coronavirus was causing panic among the general populace and playing havoc with the economy, the British government took steps -- as did the governments of many other countries -- to retard the spread of Covid. These steps were portrayed as being vital for the preservation of health and it was emphasised that the restrictions that were imposed were to be binding on everybody, without exception.

It subsequently emerged that the British prime minister Boris Johnson appeared to have exempted himself, his staff and his nearest and dearest from these restrictions. Thus, while the law-abiding citizens of the UK were sitting at home, often celebrating solitary Christmases or fretting indoors while loved ones died unvisited in their hospital beds, a good deal of partying was going on at the prime minister's official residence at 10 Downing Street, with the prime minister very much in evidence.

News of the illicit partying started at level of mere rumours. These rumours generated in turn a sequence of suspicions, denials and accusations that ended with a number of criminal convictions.

Revelations that Boris Johnson was partying while others suffered were scarcely likely to pass unremarked, and even many of his friends and supporters have been highly critical of his perceived hypocrisy in flouting rules that he earnestly urged others to respect.

If I may parody the response of the Prime Minister's Office to the allegations of partying, they seem to have travelled along the following lines:

• There were no parties.
• Even if there were parties, the Prime Minister did not know of them.
• If he knew of them, he did not attend them.
• If he did attend them, he did so involuntarily and did not know that they were parties.
• If he did attend them, he was there in his official capacity and not as an ordinary human.
• And anyway, he didn't drink a lot and wasn't really there to enjoy himself.

This line of defence is a traditionally British approach, one which will be familiar to viewers of the Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister television series.

What has any of this to do with Pirkei Avot?

In the fifth perek (Avot 5:9) we learn that there are seven features that distinguish the wise man from the golem -- an immature clod. The last of those seven is the ability to admit the truth.

If, rather than prevaricating and issuing vague, uninformative statements, the prime minister had been brave enough to follow this advice from the outset, he could have responded to the initial rumours like this:

"Yes, I did it. I went partying when the rest of the country was in lockdown. What I did was wrong and I knew it at the time. I hold up my hands and say, yes, I'm guilty. I am thoroughly ashamed of what I've done and apologise from the bottom of my heart and in all sincerity for this lapse of judgement on my part.

Having said that, I can only say in my defence that we are all human, and everyone makes mistakes from time to time. I responded to a human impulse that I found impossible to resist. I seek your understanding and your forgiveness, In doing so, I ask you to reflect in your hearts and ask yourselves, in all honesty, whether -- if you were prime minister and were struggling under the strain of running a country during an unprecedented pandemic -- you would not have done the same thing".

By admitting the truth, confessing his wrongdoing at the earliest opportunity and earnestly seeking the forgiveness of the nation, Boris Johnson could in a single stroke have ended the did-he-didn't-he speculation that occupied so many columns of news for so long and put the ball in the court of his accusers and detractors by forcing them to decide how to respond, depending on their moral stance and their political allegiance.

Illustration: Boris Johnson having a drink with Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak

Pirkei Avot: A Users' Manual

This is my new book, Pirkei Avot: A Users' Manual. Published by Targum, its three volumes span some 1,600 pages of in-depth discussion and analysis of every mishnah and baraita in the Ethics of the Fathers, together with extensive references that span over 3,000 years of both divine and human thought. 

A clue to the function of this book can be found in its title. Mishnaic ethics aren't just there to be studied and revered: they are there for us to apply in our everyday lives. Pirkei Avot: A Users' Manual seeks to help the reader do just that -- to internalize its teachings and put them into practice on a daily basis.

You may be wondering why I have written this book. Aren't there plenty of commentaries and discussions of Pirkei Avot already? Maybe there are too many of them? Perhaps this is true, but every generation needs its own commentaries because we forever find ourselves facing challenges that were unknown to previous generations -- and our children will face challenges unknown to us. This book discusses issues involving the internet, smartphones and the social media, Covid, peer pressure and the demands made on domestic budgets by everyday life in modern society.

This book looks back into the context of the many teachings that Avot has preserved and passed through the ages. It draws on many classical Jewish commentaries as well as plenty of more recent ones. I have also looked at contemporary research, literature, music and film that reflects on or applies the moral principles of Avot. Here you will find not only Maimonides, Rashi, Abarbanel and the Maharal of Prague but also Fawlty Towers, Frank Sinatra, Les Miserables and Andy Warhol. 

Each teaching is given in Hebrew and English, sometimes with more than one translation. It is introduced and then analysed, then closes with a list of topics for open discussion or private contemplation. There are also many tables, to enable the reader to cross-refer teachings that relate to one another and also to show the true nature of what Avot does -- and does not -- contain.

You may be asking what credentials I have for writing this book. Ideally it should have been written by a respected rabbi with a background in Torah learning. I am not that person -- but I have been studying Pirkei Avot since 1988 and have worked hard to establish it as my moral compass in life. I've not always succeeded, but my experiences have taught me a great deal about Jewish ethics -- maybe more than I might have learned from solely reading books.

At the moment this book is only available from my local bookshop in Jerusalem, Pomeranz Books. Once copies have been distributed further afield, I'll let everyone know.

The images on the three covers all relate to teachings that can be found in the relevant volume. Enjoy the task of working out what image alludes to. 

Breakfast with Bachye, or When a Leader Leads Others Astray

The other morning, while enjoying my breakfast coffee, toast and marmalade, I was perusing Rabbenu Bachye ibn Paquda’s Chovot Halevavot (Sha’ar Hateshuvah, perek 9). There I found a paragraph that caught my eye. Answering the question whether repentance is available for every type of sin, Rabbenu Bachye writes:

ממה שתקשה התשובה ממנו, מי שהדיח בני אדם בדת שבדה להם, והכריחם להאמין בה, ותעה והתעה. וכל אשר יוסיף העם המאמינים בה, יוסיף עוונו ויוכפל

כמו שאמרו רבותינו זיכרונם לברכה

כל המזכה את הרבים, אין חטא בא על ידו

וכל המחטיא את הרבים, אין מספיקין בידו לעשות תשובה

ואמרו: ירבעם חטא והחטיא את הרבים, חטא הרבים תלוי בו

שנאמר (מלכים א טו) על חטאת ירבעם אשר חטא ואשר החטיא וגו

[In English: And repentance is even harder for a person who led others astray by inventing a religion for them and making it necessary for them to believe in it. That person went astray and made others go astray too—and, the more people believe in it, the increasingly serious is that person’s iniquity. As our rabbis of blessed memory said: “One who causes the community to be meritorious, no sin will come by his hand, but whoever causes the community to sin is not given the opportunity to repent. Moses was meritorious and caused the community to be meritorious, so the community's merit is attributed to him; as it says, "He did God's righteousness, and His laws with Israel" (Deuteronomy 33:21). Jeroboam the son of Nebat sinned and caused the community to sin, so the community's sin is attributed to him; as it says, "Regarding the sins of Jeroboam, who sinned and caused Israel to sin" (I Kings 15:30)”].

The citation from the rabbis of blessed memory will be instantly recognised by many Pirkei Avot enthusiasts as the anonymous mishnah from Avot (at 5:21).

Rabbenu Bachye’s citation of this mishnah is in accord with his regular practice of bringing source materials to support his statements, and he often cites Avot. But what is interesting here is the fact that the cited mishnah itself cites sources.

The first citation is at first glance a strange one, since the words of the Torah do not refer to Moses at all. They are actually spoken by him and refer to the tribe of Gad, which Moses is in the process of blessing. It is only through midrash that they are linked to Moses himself. But let’s pass over that citation and move to the second one.

The reference to Jeroboam sinning and causing others to do is entirely appropriate here. Jeroboam’s sins are well recorded in Tanach, even though there is no explicit account of him being unable to effect repentance on the ground that he made others sin too. But what is of interest is the use to which Rabbenu Bachye puts this verse when applying the mishnah.

The mishnah at Avot 5:21 does not refer to any particular sin and, on the face of things, can apply to them all. This position seems to be assumed by most commentators. However, by applying the mishnah specifically to the situation in which a person invents a new religion, a situation analogous to avodah zarah (idol worship), Rabbenu Bachye is effectively contextualising it through the Jeroboam quote. We know that Jeroboam instituted idol worship by setting up no fewer than three golden calves (1 Kings 12:28-33). This offence is the counterpart of Moses’ righteousness (alluded to in the first verse cited), since he descended from Mount Sinai and destroyed the original golden calf. This interpretation of the mishnah as applying specifically to idol worship thus justifies the pairing of the two supporting citations.

Rabbenu Bachye however appears to be unusual among Jewish scholars in giving this mishnah so narrow a construction. Rabbenu Yonah, Rambam, Bertenura, the commentary ascribed to Rashi and Midrash Shmuel are among those who vest it with a wide meaning, imposing no limitation in terms of the sort of sin that a leader might be inducing the general public to follow and modern commentators—if they have anything to say on the subject at all—tend to do likewise, concentrating on issues such as the extent to which a person is responsible for another’s good or bad deeds.

Admittedly, Rabbenu Bachye’s objective is not to provide a commentary on Avot but to provide an in-depth focus on the significance and consequence of a person’s thoughts. Even so, his approach raises a bigger interpretational question relating to how we should handle Avot’s proof-verses.

Verses from Tanach cited in some mishnayot and baraitot are plainly relevant on the face of things. Others are of little obvious relevance and others again are clearly cited out of context. Yet the very fact that they have been incorporated into the teachings of Tannaim means that they cannot be ignored and, if no obvious reason should be found for citing them, it is incumbent on us to look more deeply into them. We also have to accept that, while the same verse may appear in Tanach and in Avot, commentators on Tanach rarely if ever make any reference to the use of that verse in Avot, and commentators on Avot appear most reluctant to take note of explanations of those verses in their original context as part of the written Torah.

Ultimately, what one does with proof verses cited in Avot reflects one’s view of their function. Some scholars start with the mishnayot and seek to work back into their historical or religious context. Others head in precisely the opposite direction, projecting possible meanings and interpretations into social and political circumstances that would have been quite unfamiliar to their authors. No single approach is “correct” or “incorrect” and all ways of reading a Mishnah can enrich our appreciation of them and help us reach a higher understanding.

More on Mazikim

Among the various things that, we learn, were created on the eve of the first ever Shabbat (Avot 5:8) are mazikim. ArtScroll editions of Avot translate this word as "destructive spirits". Other contenders include "demons" (Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, Judah Goldin), "vandals" (Me'am Loez), "evil spirits" (Hyman Goldin), or leave it untranslated.

Back in October 2020, in "Mazikim pt 2: Refusal to Admit Responsibility for What Happens in One's Life" I discussed the notion that mazikim were not demons or evil spirits at all, but a coded or metaphorical manner of indicating the damage we cause through a refusal to face up to our own faults and deficiencies. In this context I'd like to quote the words of the late Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz in his book Sayings of the Fathers (1945, discussed in a post last week at xxx). He too denies the real-world existence of mazikim as separate entities, but links them to man's yetzer hara, the inclination of every human to do wrong. He writes:

Demons figure in Rabbinic folk-lore, and belief in their reality was widespread; but, as here, they are held to be absolutely the creatures of God... Later Jewish teachers--the Gaon Samuel ben Chofni (died 1034) and Abraham ibn Ezra (1104-1167)--are among the first in the history of the world to deny the existence of demons. ...[D]emons, e.g. the forces of temptation and unrest in man, date from the dawn of Creation, and are part of the equipment of the human soul from its birth. It is true that, when these forces dominate us, they are "destroying spirits". But when these instincts are properly controlled, when we rule them, they are the driving forces in life. It is the capacity to fight evil, or to succumb to evil, that distinguishes man from the brute. And it is because of evil and suffering and temptation, that life is the glorious battlefield it is. We are at once the combatants and the combat and the field that is torn with strife.

These are powerful, emotive words which graphically invoke the inner conflicts that reflect the human condition. Chief Rabbi Hertz then offers a note of hope:

But in this struggle we are not left groping in the dark. Simultaneously with the destroying passions of man, the "Tables of the Law" together with "The Writing on the Tables" [these being other items listed in the same mishnah as being created on the eve of the first Sabbath] were created. As those instincts towards evil are part of the original constitution of man, so also are conscience and the holy laws of right and wrong, that are to control those instincts.

Is it not so much better, so much more constructive, for a person to bear these words in mind and apply them to his or her thoughts and deeds, rather than to cower in fear of non-existent demons.

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See also the related blogpost Mazikim pt 1: What are they and how do we deal with them?

Rendering unto Caesar

 I have received the following from Avot Today Facebook group member Louis Kessler:

Reading Avot 3:7 (that's 3:8 in most siddurim and many modern editions):

רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אִישׁ בַּרְתּוֹתָא אוֹמֵר, תֶּן לוֹ מִשֶּׁלּוֹ, שֶׁאַתָּה וְשֶׁלְּךָ שֶׁלּוֹ. וְכֵן בְּדָוִד הוּא אוֹמֵר (דברי הימים א כט) כִּי מִמְּךָ הַכֹּל וּמִיָּדְךָ נָתַנּוּ לָךְ.

Rabbi Elazar of Bartota said: give to Him of that which is His, for you and that which is yours is His; and thus it says with regard to David: “for everything comes from You, and from Your own hand have we given you” (I Chronicles 29:14).

I want to compare/contrast this with Jesus' statement about rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s.

I used to own "Ethics of the Talmud: Sayings of the Fathers" (1962) by R. Travers Herford. Can anyone copy his comment?

I have a copy of R. Travers Herford’s book, in which he writes:

“In this saying there is more than merely a lesson in generosity. The author of it was noted indeed for his alms-giving, and knew the secret of true charity. But his thought is that all that a man has, not wealth alone but body and soul and life itself, are what God has entrusted to him. They are a pledge committed to his care, not to be used for any selfish ends, but to be used in the service of God and held at his disposal. The true giver is to devote to his service what he has entrusted to the giver. The thought was perhaps suggested by the words of David [quoted above], and the quotation of that passage is made not by way of a proof-text but for the sake of the words themselves. The author of the saying gave to the thought contained in them another rendering, which need fear no comparison with the original”.

A Unitarian minister, Travers Herford was a staunch believer that Jewish texts should be interpreted and understood in the light of Jewish law and culture, rather than as merely being precursors of Christianity. He makes no mention in this Mishnah to “rendering unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s” (Matthew 22:21). In fact, I don’t recall him making any mention of Jesus or any New Testament writings in his work on Avot.

Turning now to the Caesar quote, I’m not qualified to comment on the interpretation of Christian texts but my impression is that “rendering unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” is unrelated to Rabbi Elazar’s teaching. Rather, it appears to apply to the question whether the Jewish inhabitants of Roman-occupied Israel were obliged to pay taxes to the Romans – the answer being “yes”.

Can readers of this blog shed any further light on Louis Kessler’s request?

Praying for Putin?

This is the full version of a post that was first published yesterday on the Judaism Reclaimed Facebook page.

Ukraine continues its struggle to survive in the face of the massive military invasion by its powerful Russian neighbour. This invasion has taken its toll on Ukraine’s Jewish community. Many have fled, leaving family, friends and possessions behind them. Families have been separated amidst heart-rending scenes of chaos and panic. Unbelievably, those who choose to remain and defend their land are charged by the Russian government with being neo-nazi collaborators. These events raise a difficult question for Russian Jews. Are they required to pray for the welfare of their state and its leaders

The default position in Pirkei Avot is that every Jew in every land should follow the guidance of Avot 3:2, where Rabbi Chanina Segan Kohanim teaches: 

“Pray for the peace of the government (in Hebrew, malchut) since, if it were not for fear of it, a man would swallow his neighbour alive”. 

Before discussing the applicability of this teaching today, it is helpful to contextualise it. Rabbi Chanina lived, and died, in Israel at a time of chaos and anarchy. The Romans, having occupied the whole of Israel and the Levant, were the ruling power – the malchut. Nowhere in Israel was more anarchic than Jerusalem, where the power struggle between different religious and nationalist factions resulted in the great tragedy of Jew-on-Jew murders which the Roman governors had no great interest in preventing. The Jewish authorities too were powerless to stop this carnage. Indeed, the members of the Sanhedrin, the supreme Jewish court, absented themselves from the Lishkat HaGazit (the sole location from which they could discharge judicial functions relating to capital offences) so that they could avoid passing the death sentence on Jewish murderers. This decision was arguably taken on the basis that, since so many Jewish lives were already being lost and the death penalty was no longer an effective deterrent, it was folly to address the escalating mortality rate among Rome’s Jewish subjects by killing even more of them. In this context, Rabbi Chanina could be said to have been urging his co-religionists to pray that the Romans should have the time and the resources to intervene and stop this senseless internecine slaughter.

Nothing in Rabbi Chanina’s words indicates their scope or spells out that they apply only to Roman governance of Israel. The Bartenura therefore reads this Mishnah widely, applying it even to the duty of the Jew who lives in any other (i.e non-Jewish) nation of the world. Not all commentators are so worldly, however. The Ritva, for example, learns it is a maxim for one’s spiritual development: the malchut of which one should stand in fear is that of the One Above, since it is He alone who judges the way we manage our lives.

But who or what is really the focal point of this Mishnah? Tosafot Yom Tov notes that it refers to the peace of the malchut, not the melech (“king”). Since governmental structures are almost always hierarchical, ordinary citizens are most likely to encounter the ruler’s enforcers – government inspectors, tax collectors and other members of the lower echelons of power. These people too should be prayed for, in the hope that they will discharge their duties in a manner that is neither unfair nor burdensome. The Tiferet Yisrael picks up on the same terminological point. He observes that, while there is always a malchut, there may be no melech at all. He cites Rome in the days of the Republic and, in more recent times, the democratic cantonal governance of Switzerland.

While the words of the Mishnah indicate that the great evil which it seeks to avoid is anarchy, traditional commentators have shown that this Mishnah is flexible and can been subjected to many different interpretations. One might therefore expect a variety of approaches to the question that opens this essay: do we pray for the welfare of an oppressive government that is led by a dictator or tyrant, and which may implement policies that are harmful to or downright destructive of Jewish interests and values?

Some commentators adhere rigidly to the notion of prayer even when the government is hostile to Jewish interests. Writing in Germany in the mid-19th century, Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch urges that one should not merely pray for the well-being of the state but should actively promote its interests. Rabbi Marcus Lehmann goes further: “Even an unfair and despotic government is a thousand times better than anarchy and no government at all”. It is ironical that the staunchest exponents of support for the state, regardless of its nature, should come from the jurisdiction that spawned state-sponsored genocide.

In the wake of the atrocities of the Second World War, Jewish scholars, politicians and historians have generated between them a vast literature on the relationship of the Jew to the State. This intense focus has not however been directed at the meaning and relevance today of Rabbi Chanina’s Mishnah.

Numerous popular post-War writers on this Mishnah do not cite the Holocaust and the Third Reich in Hitler’s Nazi Germany as imposing any limitations on the need to pray for the welfare of the State. For some who survived that war the topic may have been too fresh and raw for them to tackle, or the duty not to pray for such a regime may have been so obvious as not to need stating. In this category we find Rabbi Shalom Noach Berezovsky’s Netivot Shalom, Rabbi Yisrael Meir Lau’s massive Yachel Yisrael and the Be’er Avot of Rabbi Mordechai Mendel Frankel-Teumim. There are also Rav Ovadyah Yosef who, in Anaf Etz Avot—a pirush on Avot that spans some 400 pages—this Mishnah receives little more than half a page. More recently, Irving Greenberg’s Sage Advice—a work that is not short of opinions—leaves this Mishnah with the Romans. The decision not to address the relevance of this Mishnah to modern dictators and their regimes is not limited to commentators from the orthodox camp. Judah Goldin’s The Living Talmud: the Wisdom of the Fathers and Kravitz and Olitzky’s Pirke Avot: a Modern Commentary on Jewish Ethics reflect the same trend

Others touch upon the case of the problematic regime in such indirect terms that one might entirely miss their relevance to our question. Thus Reuven P. Bulka, Chapters of the Sages, writes: “Certain governments, as has been the pattern in Jewish experience were fear-inspiring and even tried to interfere with the Jew’s attempts to actualize Jewish responsibilities It would seem that we are praying for something that goes against our theological responsibilities”. The text continues in the same vein and the reader is left to decide for himself what this means.

Two American commentaries do however meet the issue of the tyrannical regime full-one. The first, Irving M. Bunim’s Ethics from Sinai, describes the gullibility of those who would deny the possibility of Nazi-style genocide, citing reasons that echo the terms of Rabbi Y. Y. Weinberg’s letter to Hitler in 1933. For Bunim one’s prayer should be not so much for the welfare of the government as for “good conditions” since it is the absence of peace and tranquility that turns humans into beasts of the jungle. The second, Rabbi Marc D. Angel, in the Koren Pirkei Avot, would curtail the application of this Mishnah so as to avoid praying for the welfare of the wicked. He writes that “praying for the welfare of the government is relevant only if the government itself is just. If the government is immoral, one should certainly not pray for its welfare”, making specific reference to the Nuremburg trials and the role played by judges and others in enforcing laws that by no standard of morality could be justified.

This Mishnah forms the religious basis for reciting the prayer of HaNoten Teshua in the Diaspora and is therefore the source of a well-known Anglo-Jewish institution, the Shabbat morning Prayer for the Royal Family. This prayer, which is usually recited in English, encompasses the well-being of the ruling monarch (at the time of writing, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II) and the Royal Family. On the basis that the Head of State is only a constitutional monarch, the text of this prayer also covers the elected government of the day:

“May [God] put a spirit of wisdom and understanding into her heart, and into the hearts of all her counsellors, that they may uphold the peace of the realm, advance the welfare of the nation, and deal kindly and justly with all the House of Israel.”

While it is never possible to ascertain with certainty the extent to which one’s prayers are positively acted upon by God, the period within which this prayer has been regularly recited in British synagogues spans more than a century in which British Jews have been able to exercise an increasing range of civil and religious rights in their host country. It is also the period in which the government published the Balfour Declaration and subsequently voted in favour of the establishment of an independent Jewish State of Israel.

 The text of this prayer does not endorse the policies of “my country right or wrong” and plainly does not endorse the initiation and pursuit of any government policies that are inimical or hostile to Jewish interests. It is bland and appears to be written in such a manner as to avoid giving offence to those whom it is articulated. A draft of this nature may be said to implement the guidance of Rabbi Chanina while not straining the conscience of inhabitants of even the most corrupt and contrary regimes.