Rambam on humility: has this message timed out?

My usual response to commentaries on Pirkei Avot is a warm and accepting one. When they span the ages I can usually both appreciate and empathise with the personal emotional responses of rabbis of centuries ago when they grappled with the same issues as face us now. That is why I am so disturbed when I come across something that jars deeply against my own cultural sensitivities. If the value of Avot is for all time, the explanations and comments of our sages should surely be of the same quality. But is it possible that our own lives and values, and our own function as human beings and servants of God in the world He created for us, are so different from theirs that their teachings no longer address us?

In this context I have been troubled by Rambam’s lengthy and at times impassioned commentary on Avot 4:4. This short mishnah is taught in the name of Rabbi Levitas Ish Yavneh:

מְאֹד מְאֹד הֱוֵי שְׁפַל רֽוּחַ, שֶׁתִּקְוַת אֱנוֹשׁ רִמָּה

In translation: “Be very, very humble, for the hope of mortal man is the worm”.

The mishnah itself is troublesome enough. Why is it even a mishnah, when it appears as a verse that has been cut-and-pasted from Ecclesiasticus—the book of Ben Sira that was not accorded canonical status by the Great Assembly. And no-one hopes for worms. Our sages have dealt with these issues, but Rambam’s commentary requires attention because it contains a most remarkable passage which, it seems to me, is quite unparalleled by commentaries anywhere else on Pirkei Avot:

והנה ראיתי בספר מספרי המדות שנשאל לא' מן החשובים החסידים ונאמר לו איזה יום הוא ששמחת בו יותר מכל ימיך אמר יום שהייתי הולך בספינה והיה מקומי בפחות שבמקומות הספינה בין חבילות הבגדים והיו בספינה סוחרים ובעלי ממון ואני הייתי שוכב במקומי ואחד מאנשי הספינה קם להשתין ואהי נקל בעיניו ונבזה שהייתי שפל בעיניו מאד עד שגלה ערותו והשתין עלי ותמהתי מהתחזק תכונת העזות בנפשו וחי השם לא כאבה נפשי למעשהו כלל ולא התעורר ממני כחי ושמחתי שמחה גדולה כשהגעתי לגבול שלא יכאיבני בזוי החסר ההוא ולא הרגישה נפשי אליו ואין ספק שזאת תכלית שפלות הרוח עד שיתרחק מן הגאוה:

In translation: And look, I saw in a book from the books on middot [i.e. personal qualities] that one of the important pious men was asked: "Which day is the one upon which you rejoiced more than any of your days?" He said: "The day that I was travelling on a ship and my place was in the lowest places of the ship, among bundles of clothing. There were also traders and men of means on the ship. I was lying in my place and one of the men on board the ship got up to urinate. I was insignificant in his eyes, lowly and of such insignificance in his eyes that he exposed himself and urinated on me. I was astonished by the sheer intensity of the brazenness in his soul. But, as God lives, my soul was not at all pained by his action and I did not bestir myself. I rejoiced with great joy that I reached the extreme in that the disgrace caused by this deficient person did not pain me and [that] my soul did not feel [anything] against him." There is no doubt that this is the very limit of lowliness of spirit, to the point of being distanced from arrogance.

 I do not know whether this episode actually happened or whether it was constructed for educational purposes. If readers can enlighten me as to its source, I shall be grateful. Be that as it may, I cannot help finding it unpleasant and objectionable and I find it hard to imagine that any sane and conscientious Jew today, finding himself or herself in the same situation, would react in similar fashion.

For one thing, Rabbi Akiva at Avot 3:18 endorses the principle that mankind is beloved of God because it is created in His image. Failing to stop this brazen act or at least to take evasive action is a passive condonation of the desecration of God’s image, as it were, and the dignity of one’s fellow humans.

Avot 6:6 reminds us that one of the ways of acquiring Torah is through loving rebuke. This does not exclusively mean receiving rebukes in good heart but also embraces rebuking others in a spirit of love and friendship. Where is the rebuke here? Even if the offending party had refrained from urinating on this pious man, the very act of exposing himself should itself earn rebuke.

As many earlier posts on Avot Today have affirmed, the Ethics of the Fathers holds humility to be an important component of the make-up of a practising Jew.  But is the conduct of the pious man in the Rambam’s story even correctly construed as humility? By his own admission he held no feelings towards the offending fellow traveller at all. But what has this to do with humility? It looks as much like an abrogation of any feelings of care or responsibility towards a fellow human being. Can this form of humility—if it even be humility—be truly a means by which a person is better equipped to learn Torah, to serve God and to be a useful contributor to the society of which he is part?

Love work -- seriously?

Love, according to the famous lyric, is a many-splendored thing. We spend much of our waking time giving it, receiving it from others, seeking it and feeling miserable or even depressed when we can’t find it. Love is also a much over-used word. Objects of love, in colloquial terms, include sports teams, TV and movie stars, musicians, chocolate cake and a refreshing shower at the end of a long, hard day. For the committed Jew, one’s finest and most powerful love is reserved for God, wherever one might find or relate to Him.

In the first part of a three-part mishnah, Shemayah teaches us אֱהוֹב אֶת הַמְּלָאכָה, “Love work!” What does this mean? The more one thinks about this question, the less easy it is to answer. Many people gain enjoyment from their gainful occupation. Sometimes it is the work they do, sometimes the money they earn, or it may be the facilities or one’s the colleagues that provide the greatest degree of pleasure—but is this “love” in any meaningful sense of the word?

The classical commentators explain how important it is to work. According to Rabbenu Yonah and the Bartenura, one should work even if there is no compelling need to do so, since it keeps one occupied and staves off boredom. The commentary ascribed to Rashi adds that one should certainly work when one needs to do so, rather than sit on one’s hands and expect others to provide support on account of one’s feeling of self-importance.

Later commentators add further perspectives to these views. Thus Rabbi Chaim Volozhiner adds that it is better to earn one’s keep and be a follower than to be a communal leader who is funded by others, an explanation that links to the next part of the Mishnah that urges one to hate leadership. Maharam Shik focuses on the idea of the work being the study of Torah while Rabbi Abraham J. Twerski looks at the work performed by those who wield authority. Irving M. Bunim highlights the fact that the word Shemayah uses for “work” is melachah, indicating a craft or skill, rather than manual labour. But even so, it is not self-evident why one should love work, or even why Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi should include this teaching in Avot at all, when Ben Zoma’s teaching at Avot 4:1 cites a parallel verse from Tehillim 128:2 יְגִֽיעַ כַּפֶּֽיךָ כִּי תֹאכֵל, אַשְׁרֶֽיךָ וְטוֹב לָךְ (“If you eat of toil of your hands, you are fortunate are you and it is good for you”).

This passage from Rabbi Yaakov Hillel, Eternal Ethics from Sinai, set me thinking. Citing Rabbi Shlomo Eliyahu’s Kerem Shlomo, he writes:

“A merchant buys flax in America, and ships it to China to be spun into threat. From there, it goes to Europe to be woven into fabric. The fabric is sent to Eretz Yisrael where it is cut and sewn into garments worn in honor of Shabbat. Its use for a mitzvah elevates the holy sparks invested in all of the many components of the finished product. This is the real reason why we should love work—because of the spiritual elevation of the nitzotzot [sparks] that it brings about”.

Regardless of one’s view of Kabbalah, what shines through here is the notion that the work one loves need not be one’s own work at all, but work that is done by others for positive purposes, whether related to a mitzvah or simply to the benefit of others. One’s love in such a situation is therefore a deep feeling of gratitude and appreciation of the work that is done for one’s benefit, whether one has any connection with those who do the work or not.

The problem of the prodigiously-praised professor

Over the past three years I have written on countless occasions of the importance of humility—one of the key middot in Pirkei Avot—and the correlative need to avoid pride. These priorities are not found exclusively in Avot. Rambam, in Hilchot De’ot, urges us not to seek out the middle path between humility and pride but to head as far as possible towards humility. The Maharal touches on a similar theme in his Netivot Olam, when he explains that only through cultivating humility to its furthest point can one truly make space for one’s Torah learning. This is all very well in theory, but how does one do this in practice?

Last week I was invited to speak at a celebration to mark the 20th anniversary of a phenomenally successful and much-loved weblog on a somewhat improbable subject: the law and practice relating to intellectual property as seen through the eyes of two fictitious cats. As a co-founder of this blog I was able to talk about its early days. The other speakers discussed a variety of legal topics, but they also had some very splendid things to say about me. At first I rather enjoyed this praise-laden attention, but as the afternoon continued I started to become rather uncomfortable. I was aware that I was filling up with pride, and I was troubled that this experience was so compellingly enjoyable. Indeed, rather against my will I found myself rating the various praises I had received in terms of quite how great or important they made me feel.

At this point I started to wonder how one should tackle pride when one feels it so powerfully. I decided to take a reality check in order to persuade myself that I did not deserve the praise I was receiving. Taking an objective view, I established the following points: (i) I was only the co-founder of the blog, not its exclusive originator; (ii) much of the content of the blog came from information and ideas sent in by readers, not from me; (iii) I had not contributed to the blog for nearly eight years, during which time it had become very much more successful and popular than it was when I contributed to it; and (iv) the blog was not indispensable since the world of intellectual property law existed quite happily before it came along and could easily continue to do so if it vanished tomorrow. This reality check did not however do the trick: I felt just as proud of its achievements as if I had written the whole thing myself and was about to be knighted for it. If there was a path from here to achieving humility, I could not see it.

After the event it occurred to me that, if I could not remove my feelings of pride, even though rationally I could challenge my entitlement to feel them, it might yet be possible to justify them. Perhaps this pride was not so dangerous because it related to something I had done in the relatively distant past and was never going to repeat, in a field of activity from which I had long since retired. This line of thought looked quite promising, even though it felt quite like an excuse. But are there in fact more than one type of pride? We learn from Tehillim that the possession of ge’ut, sometimes understood as pride or arrogance, is one of the qualities of God Himself (Tehillim 93:1), which suggests that—like every other quality that is generally bad when found in humans—it has its legitimate outlet, otherwise God would not have created it.

In English, when one speaks of a person “taking pride” in his handiwork, the real meaning is that that person has made some effort to do the best job possible. Rabbi Berel Wein, quoting Rabbi Yisrael Salanter, has described this state as one of acting leshem shamayim, “for the sake of Heaven”, as exemplified by the shoemaker who works hard to make sure that every shoe that receives his attention is made to the highest possible specification. On this basis, perhaps this sort of pride is acceptable because it is not inherently incompatible with humility. When I helped set up the blog and wrote for it, I did it to the best of my ability because I thought it would be useful for others as well as for myself. Is my pride in having done so a legitimate form of pride. I don’t feel that it has distanced me from God or from my Torah learning—but I cannot be sure that this feeling that I’m alright and can live with this pride is in fact a sign that it has already got a detrimental grip on me.

Thoughts, anyone?

What shall we do with the noxious neighbour?

Pirkei Avot places great importance on neighbours. According to Rabbi Yose HaKohen, the good path a person should pursue in life is that of being a good neighbour (Avot 2:13); conversely, the bad path that one should avoid is that of being a bad one (Avot 2:14). Nittai HaArbeli goes further, teaching that one should actually keep one’s distance from a bad neighbour (Avot 1:7).

Nittai’s teaching is not hard to comprehend. It is self-evident that bad neighbours mean trouble, something that many readers who have suffered at the hands of such neighbours can corroborate. The Torah requires the demolition of a house that has been afflicted with tzora’at, a sort of biblical mould that is associated with lashon hara—inappropriate and often damaging speech. When those walls come down, it may be that one is a party wall shared with a good and innocent neighbour, who will be adversely affected by the wrongful speech emanating from next door.

What does distancing oneself from a bad neighbour mean today? It can be a challenging piece of advice to implement. Avot itself poses problems. How can we establish that a person is bad when we are told not to judge others unless we are standing in their place (Avot 2:5) and when in any event have been previously instructed (at Avot 1:6) to judge others favourably if at all possible? And by what objective criteria do we assess whether a person is bad at all? The Hebrew word used here is ra, which is often translated as “wicked” but which may mean much less. For example, at Berachot 8a Resh Lakish describes as being ra a person who has a synagogue in his town but does not go there to pray.

Assuming that we overcome these obstacles, we must then consider how to distance ourselves from such a neighbour. Two obvious possibilities present themselves:

1.   1. Move away from our bad neighbour: in ancient times this exercise may have posed fewer problems but the difficulties, inconvenience and expense we face today can be immense. We may have to terminate a lease and enter a new one, or renegotiate a mortgage, facing brokerage, legal and surveyors’ fees.  Then there are removal costs. Next there is the hassle of contacting suppliers of electricity, gas, water and other services plus notification of change of address. The move may also involve a transfer of children to a new school. Ultimately we would probably still have no guarantee that our new neighbours are any better than the old ones or that, however good they are, they will remain there permanently and not be replaced by less good ones.

2.   2. Move the bad neighbour away from ourselves: this is more convenient but far less likely to occur unless the bad neighbour can be persuaded, bribed or otherwise induced to relocate to a place that is more congenial for him. Alternatively, if the person is sufficiently wicked as to be a real criminal, it may be possible to invoke the powers of the police to arrest him, hoping that he will receive a severe custodial sentence. This path is itself thwart with problems because it is not the way of a good Jew to inform on his neighbour to the authorities unless he has secured a valid rabbinical dispensation to do so.

There remains a further possibility, one which I feel accords best with the general ethos of Pirkei Avot: rather than remove oneself from the bad neighbour, or vice versa, seek to remove the badness from the neighbour, who will then be a bad neighbour no longer.

This approach fits in with Hillel’s broad advice at Avot 1:12 that one should emulate Aharon HaKohen and seek to bring others close to the Torah—which in this instance can mean bringing them closer to the normative behaviour of the society in which they live. It is also consonant with the spirit of loving rebuke (Avot 6:6) which can mean not only loving to receive rebuke but rebuking others in a loving and caring way. Moving away from other people might produce practical results in the short term, but it is ultimately a way of simply running away from a problem rather than facing up to it. Avot is driven by the need to improve one’s middot, and this approach to Nitttai HaArbeli’s mishnah does just that.

The case of the pious prankster

I have a friend. Let’s call him Steve. He’s a warm, good-hearted fellow. A stalwart member of my local synagogue which he attends daily, he takes his religion seriously and puts much effort into both his prayer and his Torah learning. Being modest, cheerful and helpful, he is popular and enjoys the respect of all around him.

No-one is perfect and Steve—for all his virtues—is no exception. He is a bit of a practical joker. One of his favourite little jokes is to creep up on people when their attention is elsewhere, swiftly pick up a small item of theirs and hide it nearby.  The hidden articles are not usually hard to find, and it amuses him to see their owner looking round in puzzlement as what might have happened to a watch, pen or book that they may have placed in front of them and which, to all intents and purposes, must have grown legs and walked off by itself.

Though Steve has never hidden anything of mine, I do not think that I would be happy to share his little prank if he did. When I’m finished with synagogue I’m usually in a hurry to rush off somewhere else. More seriously, I’ve now reached an age at which, if I can’t find something in the place where I’ve put it down, my first thought is that my memory has began to fail me.

My question is this: what message does Pirkei Avot have for pious pranksters like Steve?

Since Steve’s little joke involves fiddling around with other people’s property, my first thought drifted towards Avot 5:13: “There are four types of people: One who says ‘What is mine is yours, and what is yours is mine’ is an uncouth person…”. But this didn’t really seem to fit the bill because Steve wasn’t claiming any proprietary right in other people’s things. I then remembered Rabbi Akiva’s caution at Avot 3:17 that jesting and levity lead a person to ervah, immorality. That didn’t seem quite right either, since ervah is a word that carries strong overtones of sexual impropriety which are quite inapplicable here.

This leaves us with the great catch-all mishnah of Rabbi Yose HaKohen at Avot 2:17: “Let all your actions be for the sake of Heaven”. If Steve could be intercepted at the point at which he was about to play one of his little pranks he should ask himself: “Can I honestly say that what I am about to do is for the sake of Heaven? Will it bring any pleasure to God or cause people to honour or respect Him more greatly?” Ideally this would inhibit or prevent Steve persisting with his well-meaning but sometimes annoying little tricks.

Do readers have any better suggestions?

Avot in retrospect: a summary of last month's blogposts

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In case you missed them, here's a list of items posted to the

Avot Today Facebook Group in MAY 2023: 

Monday 29 May 2023: For Torah's sake: our ancient sages promise great reward for those who learn Torah out of a genuine love of it and not for any ulterior motive. But what does this mean in practice?

Thursday 25 May 2023: Shavuot and Shabbat miscellany: Pirkei Avot for goths; latest from the Dee Project; news of Rabbi Berel Wein; can one learn even from people who are not properly Torah-accredited? Cheesecake in Avot.

Tuesday 23 May 2023: Zero tolerance. The notion that lineage is like a row of zeros, only adding up to anything if there's a number in front of them, has become a commonplace among pulpit rabbis. Its origin however appears to lie in a commentary on Avot.

Monday 22 May 2023: The will to exercise one's will power: the leopard and the lion are both candidates for similes relating to strength. Is there a shade of difference between them?

Friday 19 May 2023: Playing the Lawyer: Yehudah ben Tabbai warns against being partisan in legal disputes. Most people assume that he is addressing judges-- but the mishnah originally may have meant something quite different.

Tuesday 16 May 2023: A Tangible Silence: Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel praises silence as being good for the body. This is usually understood as referring to the need to minimise speech -- but the Sefat Emet takes a novel approach.

Sunday 14 May 2023: A Good Deed a Day...: Here's a list of proverbs, said to be from Pirkei Avot, which you will simply not find there.

Tuesday 9 May 2023: Let's Talk About Talking: Rabbi Chaim Volozhin's explanation of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai's instruction to his talmidim to "go out and see" launches an examination of why so many of us talk where we should not.

Monday 8 May 2023: What's Hot in Avot: some newsy snippets relating to Avot and ways of learning it.

Monday 8 May 2023: Setting Free the Menagerie: Wild Beasts and Chillul Hashem: A mishnah in the fifth perek lists "wild beasts" as a punishment for desecration of God's name. This post discusses some explanations and attempts at giving it a modern context.

Friday 5 May 2023: When Anger is All the Rage...: Rabbi Elazar HaKappar lists jealousy, lust and the quest for honour as the three things that "take a person from the world". But where is anger? Why has he omitted it from his list?

Wednesday 3 May 2023: Real Wealth? Sophie Tucker versus Abba and The Beatles: Is wealth a material concept or is there more to it. Avot has much to say on this question, as do many lyricists.

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Avot Today blogposts for April 2023
Avot Today blogposts for March 2023
Avot Today blogposts for February 2023
Avot Today blogposts for January 2023
Avot Today blogposts for December 2022
Avot Today blogposts for November 2022
Avot Today blogposts for October 2022

For Torah's sake?

The first baraita in Perek 6 of Avot offers an unbeatable array of inducements for anyone who makes the effort to study Torah seriously. It opens:

רַבִּי מֵאִיר אוֹמֵר: כָּל הָעוֹסֵק בַּתּוֹרָה לִשְׁמָהּ זוֹכֶה לִדְבָרִים הַרְבֵּה, וְלֹא עוֹד, אֶלָּא שֶׁכָּל הָעוֹלָם כֻּלּוֹ כְּדַאי הוּא לוֹ.

Rabbi Meir would say: “Whoever studies Torah lishmah (=for Torah's sake alone) merits many things; not only that, but the entire world is worthwhile for him”.

The baraita continues by listing nearly 30 wonderful bonuses for the Torah scholar. Wealthy, powerful and successful, he will be loved by God and man. Kings and counsellors will share their secrets with him and seek his guidance. The only catch is that, to qualify for all of this, one must first learn Torah lishmah.

In picking up this theme of learning with a pure motive, the baraita echoes earlier mishnayot that warn against learning Torah for improper motives. Thus one who exploits Torah knowledge for his own glory will “fade away” (Avot 1:13) and will “remove his life from the world” (Avot 4:7).

So what does learning lishmah entail? Early commentators like the Bartenura and the commentary ascribed to Rashi had no doubt. To them it meant not learning Torah in order to gain kavod (“so that people will call me rabbi”) or to make a living from it. Rambam was adamant, both in his commentary on the Mishnah and in his Mishneh Torah, stating that no one should live off the charity of others in order to learn Torah. While it was possible to earn a stipend for learning Torah, the reason for studying it should still be purely lishmah.

When Jewish life was predominantly conducted in tightly-knit communities and ghettos, learning Torah in order to benefit from it must have been peculiarly tempting since communal rabbis and teachers could enjoy a “clean” living rather than toiling as manual labourers. In many parts of Europe entry into the professions was impossible or tightly restricted, so that teaching and learning Torah at a high level was for most males the fast track to gaining respect and the prospect of a good marriage.

It is generally accepted that, in our generation, there is more Torah learning than has ever been before. An unprecedented number of kolelim, yeshivot and formal Jewish learning at every level is heavily supplemented by informal learning through study groups and chavrutot. Talmudic study has received a huge boost through the massive and increasing popularity of daf yomi programmes. For those who choose to learn by themselves, there has been an explosion of new book titles and annotated reprints of classics, both in their original language and in translation, not to mention the constant spread of shiurim and divrei Torah across the social media. But how much of this learning is lishmah?

Social and economic changes in the wider world have made their impact felt on Jewish life at all levels, Torah study included. As the standard of living has risen, material expectations rise too. Many people now work longer and harder to pay for essentials like rent, food and schooling than did their forebears; women have increasingly shifted from home-makers to bread-winners, something that would have been regarded as quite unusual a century ago. And both time and effort available for Torah study inevitably contract since for many people it is the activity that can most easily be trimmed without its diminution being immediately felt.

It's good to know that it is still possible to learn lishmah, without distractions and competing priorities, for at least some of those who wish to do so—even though for many of us this is a remote and unusual ideal. It would also be good to receive some contemporary opinions as to what today constitutes learning lishmah.

How widely can lishmah be construed? I have in mind the case of a friend I used to learn with back in the 1990s. A ba’al teshuvah in his middle age, he and his family eagerly embraced Jewish law and lifestyles. He could however scarcely read Hebrew and certainly could not translate it. With a busy business to run and many family demands to bear, he found it next to impossible to acquire the learning skills which his children picked up almost instantly. His sole commitment was to attending a daf yomi shiur which, he freely confessed, he did not understand at all; yet he kept on going. I asked him why, given that he had so little idea what the shiurim were about, he persisted. His answer: “If I didn’t go to daf yomi every day, I’m sure I would be doing something worse”. Lishmah?

For comments and discussion of this post on Facebook, click here.

Shavuot and Shabbat miscellany

Are you a goth?  I imagine that few if any of my readers would say they were. But here’s something to think about. It’s a piece on Hey Alma by Sophia Zohar, who writes of Pirkei Avot:

“…Unlike the rest of the Mishnah, it records no arguments, only advice, quips and zingers about how to live a moral life. It was my entry into Jewish study because of its accessible nature… It forces me to think hard about what it means to receive the Torah, a concept I find hard to grasp.

What makes Pirkei Avot “goth” is the vivid, dark imagery and dramatic statements it uses to drive home its messages…

For me, goth is the radical notion that death and decay can be beautiful. That when we hide from these concepts, we also hide from ourselves. That these concepts bring us closer to our emotions and what truly makes us human. That mortality isn’t scary… it’s style. Pirkei Avot also delivers in this area, using the same bold, in-your-face language that the goth aesthetic communicates visually”.

As an example, she cites Avot 2:7 (“[Hillel] saw a skull floating on the face of the water. He said to it: because you drowned others, they drowned you. And in the end, they that drowned you will be drowned”), commenting:

“The “gothness” of this passage is pretty straightforward… there’s a skull in it, an age old symbol of mortality. However, there’s also a deeper significance. The skull’s representation of death communicates a type of permanence in Hillel’s message. The drama of this passage emphasizes how critical our actions are to how we interact with, and are affected by, the universe. Commentary suggests that Hillel may have known the identity of the skull. This contributes to the fact that this skull was a real human whose actions lead to their death”.

She also comments in goth mode on Avot 3:1 (Akavya ben Mahalalel’s advice on avoidance of sin) and Avot 4:29 (Rabbi Elazar HaKappar on the futility of seeking to escape judgment).

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Kadosh kadosh kadosh. The Dee Pirkei Avot Project continues apace. This Shabbat it focuses on the advice of Yehoshua ben Perachyah at Avot 1:6 to judge others favourably, asking: “Is it really possible to “judge every person favourably” in every single situation?”  Along with this project comes a beautiful song by Shimon Craimer, “Kadosh kadosh kadosh”, which you can listen to—and also watch because it is accompanied by a selection of lovely family photos—on YouTube here.

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A teacher for our times. Rabbi Berel Wein is one of the great English language expositors of Pirkei Avot in our generation. Seasoning his deep knowledge of Jewish history and his commitment to the precepts of Lithuanian mussar with sharp comments about Jewish values in contemporary society, he draws large audiences to his weekly shiurim on the tractate. Many readers may already have enjoyed his book on the topic: Pirkei Avos: Teachings for Our Times. Rabbi Wein had major surgery earlier this week and Avot Today wishes him a swift recovery to the best of health. His name, for refuah shelemah purposes:  הרב דוב בן אסתר (Harav Dov ben Esther).

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Learning from everyone. Here’s something to argue about at the dining table over the next few days.  In the most recent in Rabbi Pinchas Winston’s “Perceptions” series, here, he writes the following regarding Ben Zoma’s teaching which opens the fourth perek:

“As the mishnah says, a wise person is one who learns from every person (Avot 4:1). It doesn’t qualify what kind of people are excluded from this. Rabbi Meir even went so far as to continue to learn Torah from Elisha ben Abuya, even after he became Acher, the quintessential heretic (Chagigah 15b).

The Gemora questioned the wisdom of Rabbi Meir’s choice of teacher, but concluded that he had the ability to keep the good and reject the bad. The rest of us don’t, so we should only learn from reputable teachers who have the proper Torah credentials. But it has been said that God talks to the Jewish people through their enemies, so even though they do not make good teachers, their messages often unwittingly contain information God wants us to know”.

Here are a few questions to start with:

If we have already learned from two earlier mishnayot in Avot that a person should make for himself a rabbi, presumably to learn from, what does Ben Zoma’s teaching add if it is limited to learning from “reputable teachers who have the proper Torah credentials”?

What are the “proper Torah credentials” and how can we ascertain whether a person has them or not?

Does the internet or an artificial intelligence app such as ChatGPT constitute a “person” for the purposes of this mishnah?

In this context, which does not specify what is to be learned, is there any difference between learning Torah, learning how to behave properly and learning how to use a computer?

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Say “cheese”.  It is traditional for Jews to eat cheese cake on Shavuot. There is no explicit reference to cheese cake in Pirkei Avot. But can you find any subtle allusions to cheese cake in this tractate? Please post your suggestions below.

Chag same’ach and Shabbat shalom!

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Zero tolerance

 Over the years I have quite lost track of the number of times I have heard this message from pulpit rabbis:    

"Lineage is like a row of zeros. They add up to nothing unless there's a number in front of them".

Quite right, I thought, having no discernible lineage of my own and having too often been confronted with boasts of others whose pedigree was impeccable. I did however wonder where this wisdom came from. Was it just a commonplace, something everyone with the possible exception of myself already knew?

This week I found a source. Maybe it is not the earliest Jewish source but it is the first I've tracked down. You can find it in Rabbi the Ruach Chaim of Rabbi Chaim Volozhin, published posthumously after his death in 1821. Ruach Chaim is Reb Chaim's commentary on Pirkei Avot and you can find the reference to zeros (for zero read "nul" in the Hebrew) in his observations on the baraita at Avot 6:8. That baraita describes children -- presumably righteous and Torah-true ones -- as "befitting the righteous and befitting the world".

Is it an original observation by Rabbi Chaim Volozhin, I wonder, or does anyone know of an earlier Jewish source or usage?

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The will to exercise one's will-power

Pirkei Avot is not short of wildlife. Apart from scorpions, snakes and three different species of worm we find four popular inhabitants of the world of simile all listed together at Avot 5:23 when Yehudah ben Teyma opens his teaching with the following comparisons:

הֱוֵי עַז כַּנָּמֵר, וְקַל כַּנֶּֽשֶׁר, רָץ כַּצְּבִי, וְגִבּוֹר כָּאֲרִי, לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹן אָבִֽיךָ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָֽיִם

Be as bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a deer and strong as a lion to do the will of your Father in Heaven.

There is no shortage of rabbinical explanation as to why these particular creatures have been chosen, or of the precise significance of such a creature being “bold”, “light”, “swift” or “strong”. These qualities are clearly not to be taken literally. We can see this from the fact that, of the four, the “swift” deer is actually the slowest. This explains why it gets eaten by lions, leopards and other animals that chase it.

Why do we need two big cats? Let’s start with the lion, which is the role-model for gevurah.  This word literally means “strength”. In the context of Avot it means a particular kind of strength: self-discipline, the strength of character to control oneself (Avot 4:1). Yehudah ben Teyma’s lion can therefore be seen as a metaphor for self-control.

Where does that leave the leopard, who stands for being az (bold, brazen)? This metaphor can also be taken as a pointer in the direction of inner strength. If gevurah is the actual exercise of personal strength to control one’s instincts and urges in any given situation, being az means having the strength to decide that one wants to exercise self-control—even if it is not yet the opportunity to do so. So the leopard must face down all the attractive options to self-discipline, to recognise its importance and to cultivate the importance of exercising it. It is then the task of the lion to practice it when trials and temptations come its way.

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Based on an idea expressed in Rabbi Reuven Melamed, Melitz Yosher al Pirkei Avot.

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Playing the lawyer

In the wonderful world of Pirkei Avot, many if not most of the teachings—however clear they seem—can be understood in many different ways. For example, the first part of Yehudah ben Tabbai’s mishnah at Avot 1:8 looks like a bold assertion that one should avoid entering the legal profession. The Hebrew, אַל תַּֽעַשׂ עַצְמְךָ כְּעוֹרְכֵי הַדַּיָּנִין, means literally “Do not make yourself like a lawyer”. Some commentators are of the opinion that this means that no-one should advise litigants in a din Torah at all. Lawyers are superfluous; it is for the rabbis to establish the parameters of a dispute without external interference. Lawyers only get in the way.

Modern translations and commentaries on this teaching take a different approach, qualifying the literal meaning in order to frame it within a more specific context since, like much of the content of the first perek, it is addressed to judges. For example,

“[When serving as a judge] do not act as a lawyer” (Artscroll)

“When sitting in judgement, do not act as a counselor-at-law” (Chabad.org)

“[When sitting as a judge]. Do not act as an advocate” (Authorised Daily Prayer Book and Koren Pirkei Avot, per Rabbi Lord Sacks)

“Do not [as a judge] play the part of a counselor” (Birnbaum siddur)

This view is widely accepted today. As Rabbi S. R. Hirsch says:

“Should you be called upon to function as a judge, do not be like the legal advisers who offer to place their juridical knowledge at the service of the litigating parties”.

This is because judges need to be absolutely impartial, a point emphasised by Rabbi Marcus Lehmann.

But there is always a risk that the meaning of the mishnah will be influenced by the fact that we view it through modern eyes. Thus Rambam’s Perush Mishnayot comments on this mishnah:

עורכי הדיינין. הם אנשים שלומדים הטענות והדינין עד שיהיו בקיאים בני אדם בדיניהם

Rabbi Eliahu Touger’s translation renders this as:

“As a counsellor: [i.e. an advocate] who knows how to assert claims, who receives power of attorney to act on a person’s behalf in a dispute”.

This would appear to be more of a commentary than a translation, since it is difficult to find the words “who receives power of attorney to act on a person’s behalf” in Rambam’s words.

But not every rabbi holds that Yehudah ben Tabbai has litigation lawyers in mind when dispensing his advice. An outspoken proponent of that view is Rabbi Yaakov Hillel, Eternal Ethics From Sinai:

“Orche hadayanim, often mistakenly translated as “lawyers”, more correctly means “those who help the judges organize the legal data”.

He explains that, in the past, orche dayanim performed a recognised, legitimate function as court advisers. According to Rabbi Shlomo Zalman of Neustadt they were an early example of the mazkir bet din (“the court’s remembrancer”), who would arrange and explain the judges’ decision to the litigants. The mazkir bet din was also an adviser to the bet din, perhaps analogous to the court clerk in the United States. Neither a judge nor a lawyer for a disputant party should be tempted to play the part of a neutral, objective adviser to the court when he had a preference for one or other side of the action.

Rabbi Hillel also acknowledges that court procedures have changed since Mishnaic times:

“The orche hadayanim mentioned in the mishnah no longer function in today’s bate din. Modern times have produced a new phenomenon, that of the to’en Rabbani (rabbinical advocate). He has some knowledge of the relevant halachot and uses his professional expertise to win his client’s case in a bet din, much like a lawyer in a secular courtroom…”

In summary, I would suggest that this part of Avot 1:8 carries a message for our own time, whether it is addressed solely to judges or to lawyers in private practice: for the sake of justice and the avoidance of impropriety do not lend yourself towards support for either disputing party. Given the weight of support for the notion that a judge should not play the part of a lawyer, it seems harsh to describe “lawyer” as a mistranslation. The mishnah contains many messages and we should seek to learn something from each of them.

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A tangible silence

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel teaches, at Avot 1:17:

כָּל יָמַי גָּדַֽלְתִּי בֵּין הַחֲכָמִים, וְלֹא מָצָֽאתִי לְגוּף טוֹב מִשְּׁתִיקָה, וְלֹא הַמִּדְרָשׁ עִקָּר אֶלָּא הַמַּעֲשֶׂה, וְכָל הַמַּרְבֶּה דְבָרִים מֵבִיא חֵטְא

Translation: “In all my days I have been brought up among the wise, and I have found nothing better for the body than silence. The essential thing is not study, but action. And anyone who talks too much brings on sin”.

The main message of Rabban Shimon is clear: it is good to be sparing with one’s speech and to prioritise the performance of good deeds even when one is committed to the study of Torah. However, there is still scope for questions and discussion.

Two issues spring out at us. The more obvious one arises from the curious reference to “the body”. Would not Rabban Shimon’s message be just as clear if those words were omitted? And why should anything as intangible as human speech be thought to have an impact on a person’s corporeal wellbeing?

The other issue arises from the inclusion of the first part of Rabban Shimon’s teaching in Avot, when the final part cautions against excessive verbiage and the redactor has also included other teachings about the need to limit one’s speech (Avot 1:5, 1:11, 3:17).

An explanation that both accounts for the reference to “body” and vindicates the inclusion of the apparently repetitive teaching in this Mishnah is offered by the Sefat Emet (as brought by Rabbi Gedaliyahu Schorr, Or Gedaliyahu, parashat Behar). According to this explanation, when Rabban Shimon refers to silence that is good for the body, he is referring to a person’s need to silence the internal voice that advocates for those urges and desires that relate to one’s physicality. How does one silence this internal voice one? By subjugating it through the force of one’s neshamah, one’s spiritual strength.

If one accepts this view, the mishnah teaches of Rabban Shimon’s own personal experience of exercising self-discipline regarding the body. This presumably means curbing excessive eating, drinking and other pleasures that are permitted but potentially harmful when there is over-indulgence. It does not suggest that silence is better than any form of speech; nor does it overlap with the other mishnayot concerning the desirability of limiting one’s verbal output.

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A good deed a day...

Take a look at the following propositions.

“He who finds a friend finds a treasure”.

“A good deed is never lost”.

“A person should do a good deed every day”.

“The true test of patience is how you act when you are impatient”.

“A person without ethics is like a vessel without contents”.

“Kindness is the mark of a true leader, gentleness is the mark of a true warrior”.

“Treat the present as if it were the last moment. Make it count”.

“It is easier to carry a mountain on one’s shoulder than to be humble”.

“Freedom is the most precious thing in life. The wise man must sacrifice everything in order to avoid being enslaved”.

These are all wise observations or words of guidance for anyone seeking to live a good life. They have something else in common. None of them will be found in Pirkei Avot.

 If these statements are not found in Avot, why am I listing them here? The answer is that they have all been attributed to Avot in an online publication, GB Times, in an article by Olivia Moore titled “A Hundred Jewish Proverbs to Enrich Your Life” (here). Each of them is accompanied by an apparently authentic but actually quite erroneous reference to a mishnah or baraita from Avot.

The statements listed above are all capable of being construed in accordance with the words of our sages. Some resonate with teachings from Avot and might be described as generalisations or paraphrases based upon them. At least one of them has a source in Jewish literature: you won’t find “He who finds a friend finds a treasure” at its quoted source, Avot 6:6—the baraita that lists the 48 ways of acquiring Torah—but you will find it in Ben Sira (a.k.a. Ecclesiasticus) 6:14. Others may be traced to other traditions. Thus “A good deed is never lost” will not be found at its stated location in Avot 4:17 but in the writings of St Basil of Cappadocia (330-379 CE).

I am at a loss to understand the objective of this exercise. The statements listed above could just have easily been published without the attribution of any sources. Avot is already the go-to place for people who want to sound wise when quoting something but don’t know where it comes from. The most frequent example of this is the aphorism derech eretz kodmah leTorah (“good behaviour precedes the Torah”), which comes from midrash sources. Another example is Talmud Torah keneged kulam (meaning that the study of Torah is of equivalent value to the aggregated performance of all other mitzvot), from Shabbat 127a; Pe’ah 1:1.  Is it just sloppiness, indifference, or a need to sound more scholarly than one is?

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Let's talk about talking

Rabbi Eliezer Papo (the Pele Yo’etz) was a Torah scholar, kabbalist and the rabbi of a small community of peasants in Silistra (now Silistaru), Bulgaria.  From his writings we get a vivid portrait of his flock: they were simple folk, happy to go to synagogue but happier when hanging around outside it for a good chat. Their main vices, apart from wife-beating, were smoking and the excessive consumption of late-night coffee.

The Pele Yo’etz knew his people well, which is why he went to great lengths to warn them not to chat in the sacred space of the synagogue, even when prayers were not in progress but especially when they were (see Sefer Pele Yo’etz, at Bet Knesset). After all, there were plenty of places for them to enjoy their conversations apart from the mikdash me’at—the miniature sanctuary set aside to facilitate man’s encounter with God’s presence.

Another great Torah scholar and kabbalist, Rabbi Chaim Volozhiner, also warned against the dangers of casual conversation, this time in the bet midrash, the house of study. On Avot 2:13 he notes Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai’s instruction to his five leading talmidim: “Go out and see which is the good path for a person to adhere to” and observes that, even where the subject of study is a worthy one such as the identification of the proper path for a person to pursue in life, anyone who wants to talk about it should “go out” and leave the bet midrash. This is because of the ease with which a serious conversation concerning best practice in one’s personal behaviour can slip into a comfortable chat on other, probably non-Torah topics. The bet midrash should not be used in this way.  The Pele Yo’etz agrees (above, at Bet Midrash), emphasising the importance of treating this space with awe and deep respect: it is a place for learning and listening, not for street-corner banter.

Putting the guidance of these two eminent latter-day sages together, it is plain that one should chat neither in a synagogue nor in a house of study.  My personal experience is that many people, perhaps the majority, do chat in both places. Much depends on the nature of the conversation, the personalities of those who converse and the standards to which those who frequent such places are expected to conform. I also have no doubt that, in many instances, such conversation is either justifiable per se or capable of being justified. Sometimes it is impossible to avoid talking to others without appearing to be rude, standoffish or falsely pious. It is also likely that, for many people, the chance to have a chat with friends or familiar faces is an incentive to come to shul and support the minyan in the first place, rather than daven at home. Nevertheless the fact remains that there is far more talking in both places than there should be.

I am troubled by this. We all know that we should not engage in social or idle chatter in places set aside for relating to God or learning Torah, yet we do. Even though we are sometimes disturbed or distracted by the conversation of others, we struggle to appreciate that our own words might have the same effect. Ultimately, the avoidance of casual talk in synagogue and in the bet midrash affects both our relationship with God and our relationship with our fellow humans. Bearing this in mind, I’m sure we could do this a bit better.

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What's hot in Avot

Happy Lag ba’Omer everyone—enjoy the day, but please be careful! Even if you are not making a giant bonfire yourself tonight and have no intention of going near one, remember: the wind can carry smouldering ash a long way. Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel (Avot 2:13) maintains that the most preferable rule to live by is that of bearing in mind the consequences of one’s actions. This includes one’s inactions too. Don’t leave things outside your home if they are likely to suffer fire damage.

Now, here are a few odds and ends that I’d like to draw to the attention of Pirkei Avot devotees and enthusiasts.

Learning is the best response. Thousands of people around the world are now participating in The Dee Pirkei Avot Project, established only a few weeks ago in memory of Lucy, Maya and Rena Dee. Learning Avot is a great response to the tragic loss of these three women, who were an inspiration to so many people in their lifetimes. If you’d like to join the Project and receive each Friday a sheet with a mishnah from Avot and some discussion points for the Shabbat table, email thedeepirkeiavotproject@gmail.com to get your weekly Whatsapp link.

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Something to bear in mind. Another ongoing Avot project, though of a very different type, is Psyched for Avot, a weekly mishnah-by-mishnah discussion of the psychological dimensions of the Ethics of the Fathers. This is masterminded by psychotherapist Rabbi Dr Mordechai Schiffman. You can sign up for weekly emails that feature Psyched for Avot and other content from the Psyched for Torah platform. For further details visit www.psychedfortorah.com.

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Are wild beasts ‘caused’ by desecration of God’s name? On Sunday, Avot Today’s Facebook Group hosted ‘Chillul Hashem, Wild Beasts and an Ethical Battle Cry’, a post by R’ Shmuel Phillips together with me (Jeremy Phillips). This piece, which appeared on the popular Judaism Reclaimed Facebook Group, has an interesting provenance, since it started off as straight Pirkei Avot post but metamorphosed into one that incorporated some perspectives on Avot into an article with a more Torah-related focus. The original piece, ‘Setting Free the Menagerie: wild beasts and chillul Hashem’, has now been posted in full on the Avot Today weblog. You can check it out here.

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Looking for an online read? English-speaking inhabitants of Jerusalem and visitors to that wonderful city may well find themselves from time to time visiting the iconic Pomeranz bookshop. If you can’t visit the shop, don’t despair. You are just one click away from Reading With Pomeranz: the official Pomeranz Bookseller Newsletter, Sefirat Ha’Omer edition.  It’s short, seriously colourful and contains a couple of pieces on Avot. To take a look, just click here.

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