No flour, no Torah

R’ Elazar ben Azariah is known to most Jews who have attended a few Pesach sedarim as the rabbi whose beard turned white overnight to make him look older, and therefore wiser, than his youthful age suggested. Probably less well known is the pleasingly symmetrical Mishnah he teaches at Avot 3:17:

אִם אֵין תּוֹרָה אֵין דֶּֽרֶךְ אֶֽרֶץ, אִם אֵין דֶּֽרֶךְ אֶֽרֶץ אֵין תּוֹרָה, אִם אֵין חָכְמָה אֵין יִרְאָה, אִם אֵין יִרְאָה אֵין חָכְמָה, אִם אֵין דַּֽעַת אֵין בִּינָה, אִם אֵין בִּינָה אֵין דַּֽעַת, אִם אֵין קֶֽמַח אֵין תּוֹרָה, אִם אֵין תּוֹרָה אֵין קֶֽמַח

If there is no Torah, there is no derech eretz; if there is no derech eretz, there is no Torah. If there is no wisdom, there is no fear [of God]; if there is no fear [of God], there is no wisdom. If there is no knowledge, there is no understanding; if there is no understanding, there is no knowledge. If there is no flour, there is no Torah; if there is no Torah, there is no flour.

This note leaves the term derech eretz untranslated. While in this context it quite likely means “good behaviour”, it does have other meanings and, in any event, we are not focusing on it here. Instead, we examine the fourth part of the Mishnah: if there is no flour, there is no Torah—and vice versa. Why does R’ Elazar say this? What is this all about?

The obvious meaning is that “flour” is a metonymy: it is simply shorthand for “food” or “money”, this being the means of acquiring food. A Torah scholar who lacks food will not learn but starve (Bartenura, commentary ascribed to Rashi). But why should the absence of Torah entail an absence of food? After all, most of the world consists of people who do not learn Torah but for whom food is at least theoretically available.

R’ Baruch HaLevi Epstein (Baruch She’emar) scorns the “going hungry” explanation as teaching nothing we do not already know. Instead, he hypothesises that “Torah” is the basic material that one must learn, while “flour” is the refined product derived by analysing and developing it. If there is no Torah, there is nothing to refine and develop—and if there is to be no further development in our understanding, there is no great meaning in a Torah that is only taken at face value.

Other answers have been offered. One is that food only exists in the merit of Torah study: if Torah study is reduced, its influence diminishes too, and it is in the merit of this influence that our food is provided (Alshich); accordingly we should provide the poor Torah scholar with food, or we will find that, since he has not the wherewithal to learn Torah, ultimately even the wealthy will be without food (R’ Yechezkel Landau, the Noda BeYehudah). If people do not study Torah, they may as well be dead (Bartenura). And if people do not trouble themselves to learn Torah—an activity that distinguishes man from beast—they are no better than animals and do not deserve flour, or indeed any other food (see discussions in R’ Yisrael Meir Lau, Yachel Yisrael and R’ Yisroel Miller, The Wisdom of Avos).

One of the shortest and neatest explanations is that of the Kli Yakar, R’ Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz (Al 13 Middot, 3, Miketz), followed by Gila Ross (Living Beautifully): “flour” and “Torah” are, respectively, “body” and “soul”. The human condition requires each to be responsible for the wellbeing of the other. Is this what R’ Elazar ben Azariah means? I don’t know, but it does seem to me that, if the first three pairs of concepts in this mishnah can also be explained in comparably simple terms, this explanation will fit in well.

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As an aside, I don’t usually go for cute explanations of mishnayot that are based on mnemonics such as roshei tevot (acronyms). That doesn’t mean I disapprove of them; rather, much as I enjoy them, I often don’t feel that they convey a message with any particular relevance to the modern student of Avot.

Here’s one that tickled my interest, though. The Ketav Sofer points out that there are three periods when a Torah scholar must eat: on Shabbat and on the Festivals he is obliged not only to eat but to do so with simchah (happiness) and oneg (enjoyment), and on days that are neither Shabbat nor Yomim Tovim he is obliged to eat in order to survive and carry on learning Torah. The Hebrew word for flour, קמח (kemach), alludes to this. The ק is for Shabbat kodesh, the מ is for mo’ed (festival) and the ח is for chol—the regular days of the year.

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Playing out our role as humans

An Avot mishnah for Shabbat: Perek 3 (parashat Emor)

Continuing our series of erev Shabbat posts on the perek of the week, we now turn to Perek 3.

Rabbi Akiva is universally acknowledged in the Jewish world as one of our greatest and most influential scholars. He is also the most prominent contributor to this week’s Perek, providing four of its 23 mishnayot. We are fortunate that so much of his learning has been preserved for us in the Mishnah and Talmud—but unfortunate in that we no longer have a full understanding and appreciation of his teachings.

An example of this is the three-part mishnah of Avot 3:19:

הַכֹּל צָפוּי, וְהָרְשׁוּת נְתוּנָה, וּבְטוֹב הָעוֹלָם נִדּוֹן, וְהַכֹּל לְפִי רוֹב הַמַּעֲשֶׂה

Everything is foreseen, but freedom of choice is granted. The world is judged in goodness, and everything is in accordance with the majority of the action.

The first part of this teaching is a conundrum, but at least we can see that it is so: the notion that we have absolute freedom to do what we want cannot be conveniently reconciled with God’s knowing in advance that this is exactly what we are going to do; Rambam tells us—as if we could not see for ourselves—that the way this works is beyond human comprehension. The second part can be comprehended as a proposition, but we have no indication as to what it means in cosmic terms or in our daily lives. The third part demands some sort of explanation because its meaning lies beyond us. Knowing Rabbi Akiva as we do, we appreciate that deep meaning lies locked away within his words—but we have lost the key.

The first thing we must understand is that Rabbi Akiva was not an ordinary thinker and it is difficult for us to put ourselves into his mind-frame or into his historical context as a Jewish scholar and revolutionary at a time of Roman oppression. The second thing we have to understand is that, when he says something we cannot immediately understand, it is our task to work at it and try to give it some meaning. If you or I were to declare “The world is like an apricot”, no-one would take us seriously and we would be accounted fools or comedians. However, if a sage like Rabbi Akiva were to say the same thing, our respect for him would demand that we seek a meaning in his words even if it is not immediately apparent.

 This week’s mishnah has generated volumes of learned commentary, much of which Rabbi Akiva might have found quite surprising. Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi chose to include this teaching in Avot even though Rabbi Akiva said many things that are apparently more relevant (for example that “love your neighbour like yourself” is the great general principle of the Torah). From this we may infer that this mishnah says something about our role as humans. Even so, many explanations seemingly turn on global considerations and do not appear to address the individual at all. Be that as it may, each generation looks carefully at Rabbi Akiva’s words and we too engage in this task. If we cannot pull his meaning out of it, we can at least attempt to breathe meaning into it.

So this Shabbat let us ask ourselves: “What does this mishnah say with regard to our role as individuals in a social context? How can it improve us or aid us in the various roles we are required to fulfil?”

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Ethics of Our Fighters: a review

Ethics of Our Fighters, by Rabbi Shlomo M. Brody, was published by Koren at the very end of 2023.  Apart from being a rabbi, the author is a teacher, scholar and researcher who holds a doctorate in law and a journalist. His writings  on contemporary moral dilemmas have been cited by the Israeli Supreme Court—a body that is no stranger to moral dilemmas, having over the years created more than one of their own.

Avot Today noted this book when it first appeared (see our initial observations at avot-today.com/2023/12/hitting-mark-missing-point.html). I have now had a chance to read it carefully and here are my thoughts.

Despite the resonance between the title with the English name by which Avot is best known—Ethics of the Fathers—and despite the reference to Avot in the book’s publicity, this is emphatically not a book about Avot and there are very few points of even possible contact between them. One is Avot 3:18, where Rabbi Akiva reminds us that all humans are dear to God, being created in His likeness—a mishnah based on a Torah verse that, taken literally, would hold fighting forces to moral standards that most would regard as quite unreasonably too high.

Rabbi Brody’s book provides a detailed and well researched discussion of the Jewish response to the legitimacy of various issues. These include national security, human rights, conduct in regular battle, pre-emptive action, dealing with non-combatants, collective punishment, responses to terrorism, reprisals and deterrents. The most fascinating feature of many of these debates is the nature of the debaters themselves: orthodox and non-orthodox rabbis and religious scholars, secular Jews, Zionists, nationalists, military leaders, politicians and philosophers. Given the extreme importance of the subject matter and the extent to which influential opinions are liable to lead to action, these are debates in which no party and no argument can be safely ignored, and where no opinion can be discarded on the basis of the status of the person who expresses it.

This is not a casual read for the curious, since it demands one’s full attention. However, it will repay the effort involved in studying it seriously and in following the various analyses and discussions as they travel through time and space. For me, the best bit of this book is one of the shortest: it’s chapter 8 (‘The Jewish Multivalue Framework for Military Ethics’). This is because it highlights for military ethics, in like manner to Pirkei Avot, the impossibility of finding a single answer or of establishing a hierarchy of norms to situations that inevitably depend on their own unique facts. It is helpful to bear this in mind when reading, for example, chapter 23 (‘Once the War Starts: Shifting Moral Responsibilities in Urban Warfare’), where it is moral responsibilities that come into conflict.

We readers are not all the same and no publisher can cater equally for every taste. However, my personal preference for a work of this nature is that it should present references to source material and other useful or relevant notes at the bottom of each page, rather than in an appendix of nearly 70 pages where these items are listed chapter by chapter.  I do not believe that the sort of people who are likely to read this book in any sort of depth will be deterred by the appearance of footnotes, and they will be greatly assisted if they do not have to keep turning to the back of the book for the information they seek.

With that one small proviso, I very much enjoyed reading Rabbi Brody’s work and believe that it is not only a useful contribution to discussion on the ethics of war but, in effect, an agenda that will be enormously helpful to those seeking to understand the topic, to teach it or to take it to the next level.

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Wives, women and witchcraft: part 2

The more the maidservants, the more the sexual immorality

In Wives, Women and Witchcraft: Part 1 we discussed a difficult and arguably obsolete component of Hillel’s teaching in the first part of Avot 2:8 regarding wives. We now turn to the second point he makes about women—that an increase of maidservants means an increase of sexual immorality. For convenience the relevant part of the text is reproduced here in bold print):

מַרְבֶּה בָשָׂר מַרְבֶּה רִמָּה, מַרְבֶּה נְכָסִים מַרְבֶּה דְאָגָה, מַרְבֶּה נָשִׁים מַרְבֶּה כְשָׁפִים, מַרְבֶּה שְׁפָחוֹת מַרְבֶּה זִמָּה, מַרְבֶּה עֲבָדִים מַרְבֶּה גָזֵל. מַרְבֶּה תוֹרָה מַרְבֶּה חַיִּים, מַרְבֶּה יְשִׁיבָה מַרְבֶּה חָכְמָה, מַרְבֶּה עֵצָה מַרְבֶּה תְבוּנָה, מַרְבֶּה צְדָקָה מַרְבֶּה שָׁלוֹם...

One who increases flesh increases worms; one who increases possessions increases worry; one who increases wives increases witchcraft; one who increases maidservants increases sexual immorality; one who increases manservants increases theft; one who increases Torah increases life; one who increases study increases wisdom; one who increases counsel increases understanding; one who increases charity increases peace…

Maidservants were clearly part of normal life in the large familial households of Tannaic times and, in English society, remained so until the early years of the twentieth century. Today, however, the maidservant is an archaic job title for a role that is now rarely met outside the context of the television costume drama. In order to appreciate this part of the mishnah, one must either cast oneself back into the days when maidservants flourished or make it relevant to contemporary students of Avot by drawing on some appropriate modern analogy. One such analogy might be made with the cinematic industry, where dominant males have been found to have abused the power and influence that they were able to exert over a continuous stream of attractive and nubile young women who were dependent on their favours.

As in the case of wives and witches above, some major commentators on Avot leave this part of the mishnah with little or no comment (Part 1 mentions rabbis who have let this mishnah pass in its entirety without comment). The Rashbatz (R’ Shimon ben Tzemach, Magen Avot) appears to consider that the shefachot (“maidservants,” from the verb shafach, “pour”) are inherently immoral, forming part of an underclass, as it were, that also comprises menservants. R’ Yisrael Meir Lau (Rav Lau on Avos) follows this view which, I must admit, troubles me. The rampant immorality of the leisured classes in most cultures at most times seems to be an inevitable corollary of power and privilege. Rulers, nobles and even the celibate Catholic clergy kept mistresses and had far better opportunities to indulge themselves than did the household staff who cooked their food, cleaned their homes, repaired their clothes and kept their fires lit. That immorality is the prerogative of those with even limited power is a theme which is movingly depicted in two celebrated masterpieces of nineteenth-century French literature: Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables and Emile Zola’s Germinal.

So what is the source of the immorality which Hillel mentions here?  Is it inherent in maidservants as a class, or only among maidservants of loose morals (as per Gila Ross, Living Beautifully)? Or does it lie in the minds of the men of the household? While there is no basis in fact for the popular myth that men think about sex an average of once every seven seconds, a household to which low-status serving women are tied is inevitably a fertile territory for both predatory male interest and a less sinister process which, starting with mere speculation, may result in activity that goes beyond both moral and legally acceptable boundaries.  Complaints by female au pairs of sexual abuse and harassment are part of the same pattern, as R’ Yaakov Hillel, Eternal Ethics from Sinai, notes.

Let us conclude with a thought-provoking observation by R’ Naftali Herz Wessely, Yayn Levanon. Noting that it is paired with witchcraft not just here but in the Talmud (“sexual immorality and witchcraft consume everything”: Sotah 48a), he contrasts the position of wives with that of maidservants: men are attracted to their wives because the latter are sexually permitted to him, while maidservants are attractive to him precisely because they are not.

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Wives, women and witchcraft: part 1

The more the women, the more the witchcraft

The place of women in Pirkei Avot, and therefore within the framework of best practice in daily Jewish life, has featured before in Avot Today, when we discussed the extent to which a man might talk to his own, or another’s, wife. We return to this topic with a review of two statements Hillel makes in the first part of Avot 2:8 regarding women (I’ve put the relevant part of the text in bold print):

מַרְבֶּה בָשָׂר מַרְבֶּה רִמָּה, מַרְבֶּה נְכָסִים מַרְבֶּה דְאָגָה, מַרְבֶּה נָשִׁים מַרְבֶּה כְשָׁפִים, מַרְבֶּה שְׁפָחוֹת מַרְבֶּה זִמָּה, מַרְבֶּה עֲבָדִים מַרְבֶּה גָזֵל. מַרְבֶּה תוֹרָה מַרְבֶּה חַיִּים, מַרְבֶּה יְשִׁיבָה מַרְבֶּה חָכְמָה, מַרְבֶּה עֵצָה מַרְבֶּה תְבוּנָה, מַרְבֶּה צְדָקָה מַרְבֶּה שָׁלוֹם...

One who increases flesh increases worms; one who increases possessions increases worry; one who increases wives increases witchcraft; one who increases maidservants increases sexual immorality; one who increases manservants increases theft; one who increases Torah increases life; one who increases study increases wisdom; one who increases counsel increases understanding; one who increases charity increases peace…

In this, the first of two parts of our review of this Mishnah, we deal with wives and witchcraft. The post that follows it deals with maidservants and sexual immorality.

While witchcraft was a matter of serious concern to the Tannaim (see e.g. Sanhedrin 45b, where Shimon HaTzaddik arranging for the death of 80 witches in Ashkelon), this part of the mishnah may seem irrelevant to the contemporary reader, especially since it is directly related to polygamy, a practice that is very much in abeyance in Jewish society (polygamy is technically permitted by the Torah but was banned via a decree of Rabbenu Gershom c. 1000 CE).

Leaving the issue of polygamy aside, and accepting that the practice of witchcraft is not exclusively the prerogative of the female, we have to recognize that in contemporary society the word “witch” is associated principally with women. It is generally deployed as a derogatory term, often suggesting someone who is ugly or deformed, bad tempered, more than averagely assertive or able to get their own way. Additionally, witchcraft is not a concept that greatly affects people’s lives in the twenty-first century.

Apart from that, there are more serious issues of interpretation to contend with. Taken literally, the proportionality expressed in this part of the mishnah appears to imply that there will always be some witchcraft, irrespective of the number of wives. Further, the assessment of “the more the wives, the more the witchcraft” does not appear to depend on the personal qualities of the women concerned, who may be possessed of the highest degree of integrity, morality and respect for God. Finally the Torah (Shemot 22:18) states categorically that a witch should not be allowed to live, but the mishnah does not appear to endorse this requirement.

Some commentators leave us to form our own opinions since they offer no comment about women and witchcraft at all (e.g. Rabbi Chaim Volozhin (Ruach Chaim), the Chida (Chasdei Avot), the Alshich (Yarim Moshe), Rambam and the commentary ascribed to Rashi. Others consider that Hillel was speaking metaphorically. The most popular commentator on Avot, Rabbi Ovadyah MiBartenura, treats the increased number of wives here as the pivotal point in a sort of Rake’s Progress in which a man, over-indulging in food, drink and the good things in life which affluence makes available to him, secures many wives; each in turn needs a maidservant and they collectively require a retinue of manservants to supply their needs. His explanation of the mishnah, under the heading “one who increases wives increases witchcraft,” makes no mention of witches and their craft at all. It is notable that the Tosafot Yom Tov—who comments extensively and often critically on the Bartenura—lets this parable-based explanation go unchallenged.

Another metaphorical and unflattering approach is to understand “witchcraft” as the simple-mindedness of women who foolishly exceed their domestic budget and fail to see the consequences when they pester their husbands for unnecessary purchases (Be’ur Halachah to Mishnah Berurah 529 at ‘Ve’al yetzamtzem behotza’at Yom Tov’, cited in Rabbis Baruch and Amos Shulem, Avot uVanim al Pirkei Avot). If this was ever the case—which may be doubted outside the realms of popular non-Jewish fiction of bygone times—there is no evidence that the 21^st century Jewish working wife who shoulders her share of domestic responsibility even comes close to resembling this insulting and offensive stereotype.

A further approach is to vest this mishnah with the meaning that, from the point of view of a husband, the experience of amassing wives feels like an accumulation of witches. A man with many wives may absolutely fail to understand the nature of their communications with one another, their shared interests and their rivalries, their adoption of a scale of priorities at odds with his own and their preoccupation with matters in which he had neither interest nor expertise. Out of his depth in the social milieu of his harem and unable to control collectively those over whom he wields dominance one-to-one, he might well consider himself the victim of powers that lay beyond his understanding—this being in effect a sort of witchcraft.

Variations on the theme of this explanation can be found in the notion that wives, competing for the attention and the affection of the same husband, would resort to the services of witches in order to promote their cause (Machzor Vitry; Rabbenu Yonah) or to make themselves more appealing (Rabbi Avraham Azulai), or that the husband, broken in mind and exhausted in body by a surfeit of sex (Tiferet Yisrael (Yachin); Rabbi David Sperber, Michtam leDavid), would in his desperation seek relief by consulting the occult and illicit forces of the Ov or the Yidoni (Devarim 18:11. Rashi explains there that the Ov is a sort of ventriloquist who projects his voice through his armpit, while the Yidoni speaks through a bone that he places in his mouth. Both are sorcerers, whom it is prohibited to consult).

This approach can be adopted prospectively by the man who has yet to take on extra wives. Thus Rabbi Yechezkel Sarno (Daliyot Yechezkel, cited in Mishel Avot) sees this Mishnah as a sort of checklist for a man who is advancing through various stages in his life. At the point at which he considers whether to increase the number of his wives, that is the moment for him to imagine himself increasing not wives but witches, this being a prophylactic against subjecting himself to the force of their irresistibly seductive powers.

On a historical note, the Tanach has not shirked from showing the consequences of taking more than one wife, even where the husband concerned is a man of the highest integrity and commitment to serving God. The domestic relationships that are a consequence of Jacob marrying sororal co-wives Rachel and Leah is clearly strained, and King Solomon’s failure to observe the injunction placed upon a king to limit the number of his wives led ultimately to the royal family practicing idol worship and to national disaster.

Where then does this leave us? Among modern commentators there is some reluctance to get tackle this issue.  R’ Dan Roth (Relevance: Pirkei Avos for the Twenty-First Century), Samson Krupnick and Morris Mandel (Torah Dynamics) and R’ Yisroel Miller (The Wisdom of Avos) omit this mishnah in its entirety. R’ Irving Greenberg (Sage Advice) does mention the Mishnah but says nothing about wives and witches.

Others do discuss it but tread warily. R’ Reuven Bulka (Chapters of the Sages), having mentioned the risk of internecine strife between multiple wives, comments: “The quality of one true love relationship is more meaningful and lasting than ten superficial relationships”. Gila Ross discusses all the situations Hillel cites, using the present tense, while mentioning wives-and-witches in the past tense—a gentle suggestion that the Tanna’s words are of purely historical interest.

R’ Yaakov Hillel (Eternal Ethics from Sinai), seizes the opportunity this mishnah offers him to embark in a lengthy discussion of some key issues. He writes of the need for moderation in all things, the priority of the spiritual over the physical and the dangers of excessive wealth and the need to regard life as more than merely a vehicle for physical pleasure: he also cautions that a man who cannot satisfy his lusts will be buried by them. Ultimately, however, he endorses the 500-year old metaphor of the Bartenura since, taken as a whole, it comes closest to addressing the need of our times.

I’d be curious to know what readers think. Please share your thoughts with us.

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Getting paid: the going rate

An Avot mishnah for Shabbat: perek 2 (parashat Kedoshim)

Continuing our series of erev Shabbat posts on the perek of the week, we now turn to Perek 2.

The mishnah in Avot that was most frequently cited online last year is taught by Rabbi Tarfon (Avot 2:21):

לֹא עָלֶֽיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמוֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לְהִבָּטֵל מִמֶּֽנָּה, אִם לָמַֽדְתָּ תּוֹרָה הַרְבֵּה, נוֹתְנִין לָךְ שָׂכָר הַרְבֵּה, וְנֶאֱמָן הוּא בַּֽעַל מְלַאכְתֶּֽךָ שֶׁיְּשַׁלֶּם לָךְ שְׂכַר פְּעֻלָּתֶֽךָ, וְדַע שֶׁמַּתַּן שְׂכָרָן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים לֶעָתִיד לָבֹא

It is not up to you to finish the task, but neither are you free to quit it. If you have learned much Torah you will be well paid—and your employer can be trusted to pay the price for your work. And know that the righteous get paid in the World to Come.

To be frank, it’s only the first part that gets cited, about not being able to finish the job or to abandon it—and that’s often by politicians, civic dignitaries, communal leaders and captains of industry. But the mishnah taken in its entirety paints a comforting picture for us:  we keep on toiling in Torah and God picks up our labour costs, settling up with us in a better world than this: a world where there is lots of leisure and no household chores, no taxes, plenty of opportunities to learn a bit more Torah, and so on. In other words, a great incentive.

But in last week’s perek, Antigonus Ish Socho teaches (Avot 1:3) a mishnah that begins:

אַל תִּהְיוּ כַּעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס, אֶלָּא הֱווּ כַּעֲבָדִים הַמְשַׁמְּשִׁין אֶת הָרַב שֶׁלֹּא עַל מְנָת לְקַבֵּל פְּרָס

 Do not be like workers who serve their master on condition that they will receive payment. Rather, be like masters who serve their master without the condition that they will receive payment.

So while Rabbi Tarfon reassures us that we will get paid even if we don’t finish the job, Antigonus cautions us not to work in the expectation of being paid at all. Are these rabbis arguing with one another. And, if they are, can they both be right?

One answer is that even though you know for sure that you will be rewarded (as Rabbi Tarfon says), you have to put that prospect out of your head and just get on with the task of learning Torah. But if it completely slips your mind that you are going to receive a reward, you can’t truly be doing it only for the pay-off (as Antigonus suggests). There is an analogy here with top footballers, tennis players and other athletes who receive vast sums of money for their work. When they are involved in their sport in mind and body, the only thing that matters is the game or competition in which they are engaged. All thoughts of pay disappear.

Another answer is based in the Hebrew words themselves. Rabbi Tarfon’s word for payment is שְׂכַר (sechar). This is typically the going rate for the job. Antigonus however uses the word פְּרָס (peras), which is more like a tip, a gratuity that the worker receives in addition to any regular pay. On this basis it is reasonable to work for one’s ordinary pay, but one should not work in the expectation of picking up unearned bonuses.

The Torah being what it is, there are many other commentaries and explanations based on the theme of reward versus altruism in the service of God. The words of Torah are always open to us and there is no end to the way we read and understand them.

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Forensic sudoku

During the Corona pandemic we were forced to amuse ourselves in order to retain our individual and collective sanity during a seemingly interminable sequence d of lockdowns and quarantines. My way was to try and learn new skills. One was to be able to peel a pomelo to professional standards. The other was to master the art of the killer sudoku (the ones that confront you with an empty grid and require completion without the aid of numerical clues).

At first I struggled a great deal but eventually I got the hang of them and was able to solve them more often than not. Initially I enjoyed the intellectual challenge of completing them. Later I realised that, however much pleasure this gave me, I was deriving more of a brain buzz from what I call ‘forensic sudoku’—picking apart a sudoku which I could not finish because I had made a mistake somewhere along the line, to see where I had gone wrong. This turned out to be a greater challenge. When faced with a blank grid, all you have to do is work out which number goes in which square. But when a sudoku has gone wrong, one has to address a grid that has many numbers on it, some of which are correct and others of which are not, and then work out which is which.

So it is too in our lives. It is usually easier to make a decision than to engage in an ex post facto analysis of what we have done, to see which elements of our ideas, acts and decisions were right and which were not. Just as a sudoku has rules, so too do our own lives—and we can’t cheat the system. A sudoku grid that contains errors is always wrong. The same applies to a life that is strewn with mistakes. Forensic sudoku shows us where we have gone wrong; so too does our detailed assessment of our past conduct. There is however a big difference. Crossings-out on a sudoku are not only unsightly but show anyone who sees them a snail-trail of errors. But for our own lives, sincere repentance can wipe out our errors in their entirety, leaving behind no trace on our personal record.

Pirkei Avot recognises the importance of looking back to see where we have gone wrong. At Avot 3:1 (per Akavyah ben Mahalalel) and 4:29  (per R’ Elazar haKappar) we are reminded that we will be called to account before God for everything we do and everything we say, and Avot 3:20 R’ Akiva notes that we are literally made to pay for it. But the beneficial effect of repentance is recorded there too: see Avot 4:13 (per R’ Eliezer ben Yaakov), 4:22 (per R’ Yaakov) and the anonymous teaching at Avot 5:21.

The moral of this post is a simple one: if you keep a record—even a mental note—of what you have done and why, it’s much easier to work out where you might have gone wrong and, if need be, how to deal with it.

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You can look -- but can you like?

One of the teachings in Avot that seems particularly strange to contemporary readers is that of R’ Yaakov (or, according to some texts, R’ Shimon) at Avot 3:9:

הַמְהַלֵּךְ בַּדֶּֽרֶךְ וְשׁוֹנֶה, וּמַפְסִיק מִמִּשְׁנָתוֹ וְאוֹמֵר: מַה נָּאֶה אִילָן זֶה, מַה נָּאֶה נִיר זֶה, מַעֲלֶה עָלָיו הַכָּתוּב כְּאִלּוּ מִתְחַיֵּב בְּנַפְשׁוֹ

Someone who goes along the road and studies, but interrupts his study to say "How beautiful is this tree!", "How beautiful is this ploughed field!"—the Torah regards him as if he had sinned against his soul.

The message of this mishnah appears to be clear: if you voluntarily stop your learning for an activity of lesser value, you fundamentally damage your soul—this being a euphemism for forfeiting one’s life. It is an uncompromising message that is intended for Torah scholars, who are expected to take it to heart. This appears to be the view of the Bartenura, who adds that this teaching applies not just to praise of trees and fields but to any speech unrelated to one’s learning—and even to the person who pauses his learning in order to recite a blessing on a beautiful sight. The commentary ascribed to Rashi explains that a person is protected against accusations by the Satan for as long as he carries on learning, but this protection stops the moment he does. The Me’iri cautions against interrupting learning with any unnecessary speech, even if one is merely reviewing that he already knows. Rambam is however silent, presumably on the basis that R’ Yaakov’s words are self-explanatory.

Not all the commentators are quite so severe, but they are still highly critical of our traveller. R’ Moshe Almosnino (Pirkei Moshe) concedes that interruptions of one’s train of thought can be quite inadvertent: it is the uttering of subsequent unnecessary words that the mishnah condemns. Others see this teaching as a metaphor. For R’ Marcus Lehmann (Meir Netiv), “going along the road” alludes to one’s passage through life, his “study” is the result of the good influence of his family and teachers. The “tree” is however the forbidden “tree of knowledge”—secular philosophy and modern ideologies that claim his admiration, and that is the cause of his downfall.

Moving further away from the original mishnah and forging a fresh understanding that is more apposite for anyone who lives a Jewish life in an essentially non-Jewish world, R’ Yisroel Miller writes this:

“Perhaps R’ Yaakov is warning us: Someone who interrupts his learning for trivia knows he is wasting his time and will hopefully regret it and improve in the future. But someone who interrupts learning to admire beauty, who is engaged in an aesthetic activity, may mistakenly believe it is a spiritual experience, i.e. an elevation of soul comparable to talmud Torah”.

He then mitigates the force of this proposition, adding:

“People who truly appreciate great art, classical music, or beautiful sunsets can be deeply moved by the experience, and a person of what used to be called high culture was considered a superior human being. I believe there is much to be said in favor of high culture, but R’ Yaakov warns us not to confuse the aesthetic with ruchnius [spirituality], and certainly not to allow it to compete for our affection with Toras Hashem”.

Heading in the same direction as R’ Miller’s words but focusing more on the road travelled than the nature of the distraction, Gila Ross has this to say about our difficult mishnah:

“Mitzvos and Torah study are like the primary highway of connection to God. Getting closer to God through nature is a secondary road. A person must appreciate that Torah study means being involved with the crown of God and that his life depends on it. ‘’’[I]t’s not a time to interrupt with ‘small talk’”.

I’m not sure whether R’ Miller’s words are a concession or a confession, but in either case they show how far the meaning of a mishnah can travel from the blunt and uncompromising words of the Tanna who first spoke them. Gila Ross does the same, seeking to make this teaching more palatable. In a generation where religion, morality and a belief in God can no longer be taken for granted, it is difficult to see how this sort of approach can be avoided by any author on Avot who seriously wants to influence the thoughts and maybe even change the behaviour and lifestyle of the reader.

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For rabbinical consumption only?

Is Pirkei Avot just a bunch of stuff written by rabbis for other rabbis? Sometimes it might just feel that way.

We learn in Avot 5:17:

אַרְבַּע מִדּוֹת בְּהוֹלְכֵי בֵית הַמִּדְרָשׁ: הוֹלֵךְ וְאֵינוֹ עוֹשֶׂה, שְׂכַר הֲלִיכָה בְּיָדוֹ. עוֹשֶׂה וְאֵינוֹ הוֹלֵךְ, שְׂכַר מַעֲשֶׂה בְּיָדוֹ. הוֹלֵךְ וְעוֹשֶׂה, חָסִיד. לֹא הוֹלֵךְ וְלֹא עוֹשֶׂה, רָשָׁע

There are four types among those who attend the study hall (Bet Midrash). One who goes but does nothing gets a reward for going. One who does [study] but does not go to the study hall gets a rewards for doing. One who goes and does is a chasid. One who neither goes nor does is wicked.

This teaching, at face value, has nothing to offer the ordinary man or woman in the street. Rather, it appears to have something only to those who have elected to spend their days in learning Torah and who manifestly have contrasting attitudes towards the nature of their commitment.

The Kozhnitzer Maggid offers an imaginative explanation that has nothing to do with Batei Midrash in the physical sense at all.

Torah learning, indeed all forms of learning and spiritual growth, take place inside a person’s heart and mind. That is the “study hall” of our mishnah. Now let’s look at the four types of person it describes.

The first has the necessary skill and ability to touch the heart of others, regardless of their level of knowledge or commitment. But he fails to capitalise on the opportunity to do so. Maybe he is just unsuccessful; maybe he never really tries.

The second doesn’t make the effort to plumb the depths of another person’s psyche or intellect. However, whether through his behaviour or his demeanour he manages to influence that person just the same.

The third has the ability to touch another’s heart and mind—and does so successfully, contributing to that other’s spiritual, emotional or intellectual growth. He is the chasid (for our purposes, chasid basically indicates a really good person).

Finally we find the person who has no empathy with others, does not understand them and has no real interest in doing so. He or she never even makes the effort. This is not the sort of person we should seek to be.

As can be seen, this breakdown of inspirational and non-inspirational characters works well not only for Torah educators but for parents, counsellors, role models and close friends. We can all learn from it and, in doing so, be of great assistance to those we have the power to encourage or inspire.

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Judging others favourably: a double-edged sword

 An Avot mishnah for Shabbat: perek 1 (parashat Acharei Mot)

It’s a longstanding tradition to learn one perek of Avot in the afternoon of each Shabbat between Pesach and Shavuot. Possibly because of the popularity of Avot, most communities that observe this custom have extended it from Shavuot to Rosh Hashanah—not just the beginning of the new year but the end of the long summer days in which our sages perceived an increased risk of sin which the study of Avot might reduce.

In recognition of this tradition, Avot Today will try to post a short thought on Avot each Friday, for use on Shabbat as a point to ponder or as a table-top discussion topic.

We start this morning with Perek 1.

Hillel teaches (Avot 1:12):

הֱוֵי מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַהֲרֹן, אוֹהֵב שָׁלוֹם וְרוֹדֵף שָׁלוֹם, אוֹהֵב אֶת הַבְּרִיּוֹת, וּמְקָרְבָן לַתּוֹרָה

Be a disciple of Aaron—love peace, pursue peace, love people and draw them close to the Torah.

Aaron was a holy man, the first Kohen Gadol (High Priest) and, according to midrash, knowledgeable in Jewish law. Yet the way we are taught to emulate him has nothing to do with his holiness or his scholarship: it’s to do with the way we feel about other people and behave towards them. In particular, Aaron would act as a go-between in trying to resolve disputes between his fellow Jews.

R’ Yisroel Miller (The Wisdom of Avos) brings the following story to illustrate how not to do it:

“A Jewish woman who was not mitzvah-observant was befriended by a kiruv-oriented couple who regularly invited her for Shabbos meals. She became close to them and greatly valued their friendship. One day she told them that, after thinking it over, she decided that Orthodoxy was not for her. The Shabbos invitations ceased, the couple drew away from her, and she told me that she felt cheated. The ‘friendship’ was like that of a used-car salesman pushing a product—nothing more”.

R' Miller rightly observes that we should not befriend someone in order to sell them Yiddishkeit. We should befriend them because we are students of Aaron, on the basis of our sincerity.

But Pirkei Avot has another side to it. At Avot 1:6 Yehoshua ben Perachyah teaches us to judge other people favourably where that is possible. Have we done so? We have heard only one side of the story and have not looked at it from the other side. What if the couple understood the woman’s statement as a brush-off? What if they had children who were upset at what she said? What if the couple felt that their hospitality was being cynically exploited? Maybe what was needed here was an ‘Aaron’ to go between them and heal the fractured friendship if that was a possible option.

This miniature case-study illustrates both the complexities of human relationships and the subtle interplay of guidelines by which we are taught to conduct them.

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Following in the footsteps of Avot?

Here’s a tale from the mid-1980s, before I first became interested in Pirkei Avot.

I can’t remember how long ago I first encountered Rabbi Avigdor Miller’s then-popular “10 steps to Greatness”—but I do remember thinking at the time that the idea was somehow better than the execution and that, based on my own intuition, I would not have come up with the same list. I later got together with a learning partner and we decided that we would each compile our own lists and see how they came out.  Although my chavruta and I came from similar backgrounds, mostly shared the same views and had enjoyed similar educational experiences, we were surprised to discover that our own personal “10 steps” lists differed not only from R’ Miller’s but from each other’s. At the time I concluded that there must be more than one path to greatness and that every individual’s path depends on who they are, where they come from and where they plan to go.

I had quite forgotten about this episode until, a few days ago, I came across a reference to R’ Miller’s prescription for greatness. Medicinal prescriptions can expire, so I asked myself whether this list was still current—or had it been overtaken by events or superseded by other formulae for success in the art of being great? It then occurred to me that, to at least some extent, all 10 steps are matched or foreshadowed by a teaching from Avot.

For the record, R’ Miller’s list goes like this, with my references to Avot added:

1. Spend 30 seconds thinking of Olam Haba and that we are in this world only as a preparation for the world to come [Avot 4:21: per R’ Yaakov: this world is just a lobby before the next, so prepare yourself here].
   
   
2. Say at least once (in private) "I love you Hashem". (You will be fulfilling a positive commandment from the Torah [Avot 6:1 and 6:6 proclaim the benefits of loving God]. This will kindle a fire in your heart and will have a powerful effect on your character. Your exteriority bestirs your interiority. Hashem is listening. He loves you much more than you love him [Avot 3:13: per R’ Chanina ben Dosa: if others love you, God will do so too—apparently whether you love Him or not].
   
   
3. Do one hidden act of chesed, that no one, other than Hashem, knows about [Avot 6:1 praises the status of a tzanua, someone who is discreet]. (Have intention beforehand that you are doing this in order to fulfil your program to greatness. The practice of doing acts of kindliness - Gemilut Hasadim - is one of the three most important functions in the world [alluding directly to Avot 1:2].
   
   
4. Be like Hashem who lifts the humble, say something to encourage someone [encouraging others is being a good friend: R’ Yehoshua ben Chananya, Avot 2:13].
   
   
5. Spend 1 minute about what happened yesterday (cheshbon hanefesh) [cheshbon hanefesh lies at the core of both Avot 3:1 and 4:29]. Everyone should have his mind on what he is doing - by reviewing yesterday's actions daily.
   
   
6. Your actions should be l'shem shamayim (say once during meals) [well, actually ALL one’s actions should be for the sake of Heaven, per R’ Yose HaKohen, Avot 2:17].
   
   
7. Look into someone's face and think - I'm seeing a tzelem Elokim ("image" of God). Be aware of the principle: "Man was created in the image of Hashem." Every human face is a reflection of Hashem [R’ Akiva says this at Avot 318]. Your face is like a screen and your soul like a projector which projects on your face the glory of the human soul, which has in it the greatness of Hashem. Once a day pick a face and think: "I am seeing the image of Hashem." You will begin to understand the endless nobility of a face.
   
   
8. Just like Hashem's face shines on us, give someone a big smile [Shammai’s prescription for greeting everyone: Avot 1:15]. Smile because Hashem wants you to, even though you really don't want to. When you smile have intentions that you are doing it for the purpose of coming closer to Hashem through the Ten Steps To Greatness.
   
   
9. When saying "malbish arumim", think about the great gift of garments, i.e. pockets, buttons, shoelaces, etc. Clothing is a testament to the nobility of man. He is unique: man has free will, has a soul, and is made in the image of Hashem. Even Angels are beneath man in greatness. To demonstrate the superiority of mankind, we must be clothed. Say "Malbish Arumin" (He clothes the naked) out loud [According to several commentaries, Avot 5:8, which lists “tongs made with tongs” as being made by God just before the onset of Shabbat, actually refers to God’s gift of human creativity, enabling invention and creation of what they need. This would include their clothing—right down to their buttons].
   
   
10. Sit on floor and think of loss of Yerushalayim (privately, 1 second) [at Avot 5:24 we remember the loss of Jerusalem’s most special feature, the Temple, and call for its restoration].

I’d love to know when R’ Miller’s list was first published, and what were the circumstances that inspired or provoked its publication. Can anyone help?

It would also be good to know if readers have their own lists, which we can compare with the original. What, in your opinion, has R’ Miller omitted? And what has he listed that you would argue, should be substituted by another item? Do share your thoughts with us, please!

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Chag same'ach: a Happy Pesach to you all!

Tomorrow sees the beginning of Pesach—the Jewish Passover festival. Starting with the traditional seder service we mark the season of the redemption of the Jewish people and their going out from Egypt. It is a time for celebration and for gratitude to God for His indispensable role as our guide and miracle-maker. Pesach also marks the beginning of the traditional season for learning (or at least reading) Pirkei Avot, the assumption being that the stern words of warning and reproof offered by our sages will provide an effective antidote to the spring and summer season for sin.

Avot Today is delighted to say that we have made over 550 articles and discussions of Pirkei Avot available online, both on our blog at avot-today.com and on our interactive Facebook group at facebook.com/groups/avottoday. This makes it longer than most printed commentaries on Avot and, unlike books, our blog can be easily searched by text and by keyword, so you can either quickly find what you are looking for or save valuable time that might otherwise be wasted in seeking out something that’s not there. If you are committing yourself to study Pirkei Avot from now till Rosh Hashanah ushers in the New Year, feel free to make as much use of Avot Today as you like: if you already have a favourite Avot read, Avot Today can serve as a handy adjunct to it.

At this special point in the year, I’d like to thank those of you who have contributed to Avot Today, whether as guest authors or by posting comments. We are all enriched when we hear fresh ideas or test our own against others. Please keep posting your comments—and do contact us if you have a post of your own for us to host or are thinking of writing one.

We have actually had our best year yet in terms of readership. The Facebook Group now has over 330 members and the blog, starting from the summer of 2020, has now hosted over 65,000 page visits. I do hope that these encouraging figures reflect an increased interest in the Ethics of the Fathers and the wisdom of the ages, and that our emphasis on finding modern meaning in ancient words makes Avot easier to appreciate and to internalise.

May God grant us all a happy, kosher and above all peaceful Pesach!

PLEASE NOTE: AVOT TODAY WILL BE TAKING A BREAK FOR PESACH THE NEXT POST WILL BE, GOD WILLING, ON WEDNESDAY 1 MAY.

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One of God's most powerful creations: PR!

The Torah opens with a catalogue of things God creates during the first six days of the world’s existence. Pirkei Avot extends this list (Avot 5:8) by adding a further ten things (actually 14) that were created during twilight at the point at which the sixth day shades into Shabbat.

One thing that never made the opening of Parashat Bereshit (Genesis) or Avot 5:8 is one of God’s most important creations: public relations, or ‘PR’ as it is known in the vernacular. How do we know this? Maharam Shik ties it to an earlier Mishnah (Avot 5:4), which reads like this:

עֲשָׂרָה נִסְיוֹנוֹת נִתְנַסָּה אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ, וְעָמַד בְּכֻלָּם, לְהוֹדִֽיעַ כַּמָּה חִבָּתוֹ שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִֽינוּ

With ten tests our father Abraham was tested and he withstood them all—in order to make known how great was our father Abraham's love.

What does this have to do with PR? The answer is simple when you think about it. Being omniscient and beyond time, God already knows the outcome of the ten tests. He is also well aware of Abraham’s great love for Him. But when the ten tests begin, Abraham—together with his wife Sara—are the only people on the planet who not only believe in His existence but demonstrate unconditional love for Him.

One of the best ways to spread the news is to publicise it. Not every commentator has the same list of tests for Abraham (there are at least 30 “possibles”), but a factor that is common to almost all of them is that they are public, in the sense that there are others at the scene who are either involved in them or serve as spectators. If you see something miraculous, there’s a good chance you’ll talk about it. This is therefore how God plans to spread the word about His existence. And that explains the words “in order to make known” in our mishnah.

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The odd man out

The two mishnayot at Avot 2:13 and 2:14 are very nearly mirror images of one another. In the first, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakai asks his five star talmidim to find the best path to take in life; in the second, he asks them to identify the worst. These mishnayot read like this:

צְאוּ וּרְאוּ אֵיזוֹ הִיא דֶּֽרֶךְ טוֹבָה שֶׁיִּדְבַּק בָּהּ הָאָדָם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶֽזֶר אוֹמֵר: עַֽיִן טוֹבָה. רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻֽׁעַ אוֹמֵר: חָבֵר טוֹב. רַבִּי יוֹסֵי אוֹמֵר: שָׁכֵן טוֹב. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר: הָרוֹאֶה אֶת הַנּוֹלָד. רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אוֹמֵר: לֵב טוֹב. אָמַר לָהֶם: רוֹאֶה אֲנִי אֶת דִּבְרֵי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲרָךְ מִדִּבְרֵיכֶם, שֶׁבִּכְלַל דְּבָרָיו דִּבְרֵיכֶם. אָמַר לָהֶם: צְאוּ וּרְאוּ אֵיזוֹ הִיא דֶּֽרֶךְ רָעָה שֶׁיִּתְרַחֵק מִמֶּֽנָּה הָאָדָם. רַבִּי אֱלִיעֶֽזֶר אוֹמֵר: עַֽיִן רָעָה. רַבִּי יְהוֹשֻֽׁעַ אוֹמֵר: חָבֵר רָע. רַבִּי יוֹסֵי אוֹמֵר: שָׁכֵן רָע. רַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן אוֹמֵר: הַלֹּוֶה וְאֵינוֹ מְשַׁלֵּם, אֶחָד הַלֹּוֶה מִן הָאָדָם כְּלֹוֶה מִן הַמָּקוֹם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: לֹוֶה רָשָׁע וְלֹא יְשַׁלֵּם, וְצַדִּיק חוֹנֵן וְנוֹתֵן. רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר אוֹמֵר: לֵב רָע. אָמַר לָהֶם: רוֹאֶה אֲנִי אֶת דִּבְרֵי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲרָךְ מִדִּבְרֵיכֶם, שֶׁבִּכְלַל דְּבָרָיו דִּבְרֵיכֶם

Go out and see which is the best trait for a person to acquire. Rabbi Eliezer said: a good eye. Rabbi Yehoshua said: a good friend. Rabbi Yose said: a good neighbour. Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel said: to see the consequences [of one’s actions]. Rabbi Elazar said: a good heart. [Rabban Yochanan] said to them: I prefer the words of Elazar ben Arach to yours, for his words include all of yours.

He said to them: Go out and see which is the worst trait, the one that a person should most distance himself from. Rabbi Eliezer said: an evil eye. Rabbi Yehoshua said: an evil friend. Rabbi Yose said:  an evil neighbour. Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel said: to borrow and not to repay; for one who borrows from man is like one who borrows from the Almighty, as it is stated: “The wicked man borrows and does not repay; but the righteous one is benevolent and gives''. Rabbi Elazar said: an evil heart. [Rabban Yochanan] said to them: I prefer the words of Elazar ben Arach to yours, for his words include all of yours.

These teachings are not totally mirror images. Of the five talmidim, four give answers to the second question that are merely the opposite of their answers to the first. The odd man out is R’ Shimon ben Netanel, whose answers appear in bold. Why does he not simply answer that, since the best path is that of seeing the consequences of one’s actions, the path to avoid is that of not seeing those same consequences?

This question is not new. Though some commentators, including Rashi, don’t address it at all, others have clearly given it thought. The Bartenura, for example, reverses R’ Shimon’s second answer into his first: not seeing the consequences means borrowing without appreciating what will happen if one doesn’t pay back: no-one will offer accommodation or food and that person will starve. So why doesn’t R’ Shimon say so? Because sometimes a person who fails to see the consequences will still be able to avert the unforeseen disaster and be saved.

Rabbenu Yonah takes a different tack. Like some other scholars, he learns R’ Shimon’s first response, regarding the consequences of one’s actions, as referring to Avot 2:1 where Rebbi urges us to weigh the cost of a mitzvah against its benefit and the benefit of an averah (sin) against its cost.  There isn’t an obvious opposite for this teaching and, in any event, borrowing and not repaying is something that people automatically seek to avoid if they can.

Rambam goes to lengths to explain that seeing the consequences of one’s actions does not mean possessing prophetic powers to discover the hidden from that which has been revealed. Rather, a person should look to his own actions and seek to see what their consequences may be. Not paying back means that he will not receive further loans: to borrow when you cannot repay is an ethical shortcoming.

My personal thoughts on these mishnayot run like this:

Starting with the first of our two mishnayot, we see that R’ Shimon’s choice of a “good path”—the ability to perceive the future, to appreciate the consequences of what one sees—is strikingly at odds with the pithy proposals of his colleagues. While the other four talmidim of Rabban Yochanan are focused on qualities that are inherent in man within his social setting (ie a good eye, friend, neighbour and heart), R’ Shimon alone focuses on the nature of time. How does he do this? By nominating as his choice of “good path” the idea of a person taking his conscious knowledge of the present and projecting it forwards, into the future.

The proposals of the other four talmidim as to what in their view constitutes the “evil path” are entirely consistent with their view of the “good path” (i.e. a bad eye, bad friend, bad neighbour and bad heart). This should alert us to ask whether the same degree of consistency applies to Rabbi Shimon. In other words, when he talks of the person who borrows but does not repay, is he only speaking quite literally about money, as is usually assumed, or is he speaking about time?

In colloquial English, one sometimes hears of a person “living on borrowed time.” The normally accepted meaning of this phrase is that this person is still alive, even though he might reasonably have been expected to have died at some earlier stage in his life. The phrase is therefore aptly applied to a survivor of an aeroplane crash, to a patient who has pulled through following surgery that has a very low success rate or to a person whose life expectancy has exceeded that which is normally predicted for a “killer” disease.

For the believing Jew, “living on borrowed time” is not an exceptional experience but a normal state of affairs. Every morning we recite the blessing of Elokai Neshamah, which affirms the notion that God, having breathed life into each of us, gathers in our souls while we sleep at night and returns to us when we awaken. Since sleep is regarded as a sort of small-scale death, God can be viewed as lending us back our souls each day.

Having “borrowed” another day’s ration of life each morning, we must repay it. How is this done? By making good use of the time contained within that day, for example by helping others, improving ourselves, learning Torah or making a living. Time wasted is time misspent; it does not repay the loan, as it were, and raises the question: if you wasted the previous day you were given, why should God bother giving you another one?

As indicated, in contemporary secular culture time is regarded as an asset, just like money. We use monetary vocabulary when we talk of how a person “spends” time and how he “saves” it. Time that is wasted is proverbially “stolen” (hence “procrastination is the thief of time”).  Elsewhere in Avot too, the value of time is emphatically drawn to the reader’s attention. Time on Earth is brief, though the reward for using it well is great (Avot 2:20). Repentance (Avot 2:15) and and Torah learning (Avot 2:5) should never be delayed even if it appears that some future time slot may be more congenial. A person who has time but is unable to use it is regarded as being effectively dead (Avot 5:25). Even so apparently trivial a matter as being late to rise can kick-start a cycle of time-destruction that can have fatal consequences (Avot 3:14).

Can we say then that, when R’ Shimon ben Netanel is talking of the person who borrows but does not repay, he has in mind the person who “borrows” time on a daily basis but does not “repay”? Unlike borrowing money or, say, household items, time is something everyone alive both needs and has, and the need to put it to good use is a derech of general applicability—and the same loan is made to rabbis and road-sweepers, students and surgeons, mechanics and midwives, lawyers and labourers, on exactly the same terms.

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"God helps those who help themselves!"

“God helps those who helps themselves” is a popular English proverb that encourages people to take the initiative in achieving things rather than to wait for everything they desire to fall effortlessly into their hands.

Where does this proverb originate? The information-packed Wikipedia entry on the proverb provides numerous examples of it being found in various forms in ancient Greek and Chinese cultures as well as in Christian, Islamic and Jewish traditions (for example the oft-cited axiom בדרך שאדם רוצה לילך – מוליכים אותו (“On the path that a person wants to go, they take him”, Makkot 10b).

What is the value of this saying? It can be seen both as a positive incentive to take the initiative in meeting one’s needs in the confidence that one will receive divine assistance. But it has also been taken as poor public policy in that it discourages people from helping the poor and needy; after all, God’s help is surely greater than theirs.

What light does Pirkei Avot cast on this long-lived notion? Not a lot, since Avot portrays God mainly as a judge and post-mortem paymaster. The tractate certainly does not address our question directly, since its principal function is to guide us in our interpersonal relations and self-improvement, Even so, there are some small, admittedly tenuous, clues:

Hillel (Avot 1:14) famously asks: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?”  This question can be understood in many different ways. One is that it is a rhetorical question. Hillel is actually saying that one has to make an effort and act for oneself if one wants help—and God is the universal provider of help for those who call upon Him.

Rabbi Shimon ben Netanel (Avot 2:14) suggests that a person who borrows—whether from man or from God—and does not repay is wicked. However, where a person does pay back what he owes, God who is righteous will not only gracious but will freely give.

Rabbi Tarfon (Avot 2:20) teaches that “the day is short, the task is massive, the workers are lazy, the reward is great and the Master of the House [i.e. God] is pressing”. From this one can infer that, the harder and faster a person attends to his or her duties, the greater reward, or possibly assistance, will be made available by God.

An anonymous mishnah (5:21) tells us that anyone who invests the masses with merit will be divinely assisted either in not sinning or in not causing others to sin.

Can any reader go further than this?

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