Pirkei Avot 1:12
"Hillel and Shammai received the transmission from them [the previous generation of scholars, of Mishna 10]. Hillel said: Be of the students of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving people and bringing them closer to Torah."
As so much of Pirkei Avot, this mishna resonates on two levels. On one level, we have the advice of Hillel, to be like Aaron, loving and pursuing peace and loving people and bringing them closer to Torah. This brings to mind the gentle, warm characteristic of Aaron, known as a peacemaker, and Hillel, who indulged the cynic who asked him to teach him Torah standing on one foot with the answer "do not do unto others what is hateful to you." This is the approach that is in vogue today, to bring Jews back to Judaism by being warm and welcoming, in the wake of the demographic studies predicting our demise to intermarriage and secularism.
But the mishna alludes to another approach. Why does it tell us that Shammai received the transmission from the same source as Hillel? Shammai was known for a more literal interpretation of the Torah. Hillel spoke to the skeptic, and sought to bring him into the fold. Shammai spoke to those already in the fold, and sought to transmit the content of the transmission. Hillel has fared better in the popular description of the two, but the pasuk reminds us that Shammai's approach came from the same source.
Pirkei Avot inclines to accessibility and to outreach, and thus repeats the teaching of Hillel, not Shammai. But the quotation from Hillel alludes to the other perspective. It urges us to be of the students of Aaron, yet the reader knows that Aaron, in his love of peace, allowed the Israelites to worship the golden calf, while his brother, Moses, immediately rejected the golden calf. The end of the quotation from Hillel points to Shammai: "bringing [people] closer to Torah" moves from loving them to bringing them closer to the text, where love alone is not enough. The purpose of loving them is to bring them closer to Torah, which they must study and take to heart.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Pirkei Avot 1:11
Pirkei Avot 1:11
"Avtalyon said: Sages, be careful with your words lest you deserve to be exiled and are exiled to a place of bad waters. The students who come after you will drink of these waters and die, and G-d's Name will be desecrated."
This is a puzzling mishna. First we must unravel the metaphor: what is the "place of bad waters" to which the sages who "deserve to be exiled" because of their careless words are exiled? Since it is a place where the students who drink of these waters will die, and G-d's Name will be desecrated, it sounds like a place where doctrines that desecrate G-d's Name are taught. Although we can't tell what these teachings are, they are not teachings that are intentionally blasphemous; rather, it is a place to which sages are exiled when they are careless with their words. It is a place where false teachings are passed off as part of the transmitted tradition, and where students die metaphorically because they receive teachings that are not true to what has been passed down from Sinai, through the generations of prophets and scholars.
There is a great sense here that the teachings of Torah have a very specific, intentional meaning. Today we tend to see any interpretation of the text encouraged, as if Torah speaks to all in different ways, and what is to be taken from it is subjective. This mishna says that there is a true sense of the text, and it must be imparted by careful sages.
There is also a sense that the reason that careless words are so harmful is not just the words themselves, but rather the effect that they have in "exiling" sages from the community of faithful transmitters of the tradition. Separation from the community leaves the careless sages unmoored from the salutary effects of the community of sages who are more faithful to the tradition. This concept resonates with the earlier verses that urge us to find a good teacher and to sit at the feet of sages. The connectedness to other sages helps even the wise stay faithful to the true sense of the teachings, and avoid "bad waters".
"Avtalyon said: Sages, be careful with your words lest you deserve to be exiled and are exiled to a place of bad waters. The students who come after you will drink of these waters and die, and G-d's Name will be desecrated."
This is a puzzling mishna. First we must unravel the metaphor: what is the "place of bad waters" to which the sages who "deserve to be exiled" because of their careless words are exiled? Since it is a place where the students who drink of these waters will die, and G-d's Name will be desecrated, it sounds like a place where doctrines that desecrate G-d's Name are taught. Although we can't tell what these teachings are, they are not teachings that are intentionally blasphemous; rather, it is a place to which sages are exiled when they are careless with their words. It is a place where false teachings are passed off as part of the transmitted tradition, and where students die metaphorically because they receive teachings that are not true to what has been passed down from Sinai, through the generations of prophets and scholars.
There is a great sense here that the teachings of Torah have a very specific, intentional meaning. Today we tend to see any interpretation of the text encouraged, as if Torah speaks to all in different ways, and what is to be taken from it is subjective. This mishna says that there is a true sense of the text, and it must be imparted by careful sages.
There is also a sense that the reason that careless words are so harmful is not just the words themselves, but rather the effect that they have in "exiling" sages from the community of faithful transmitters of the tradition. Separation from the community leaves the careless sages unmoored from the salutary effects of the community of sages who are more faithful to the tradition. This concept resonates with the earlier verses that urge us to find a good teacher and to sit at the feet of sages. The connectedness to other sages helps even the wise stay faithful to the true sense of the teachings, and avoid "bad waters".
Sunday, November 11, 2012
"Shemaya and Avtalyon received the transmission from them [the previous generation of scholars, listed in Mishna 8]. Shemaya said: Love work, despise high position, and do not become too close to the authorities."
The central tenet of this mishna is the advice to "love work". The Hebrew word used for work is "melacha," the kind of creative work which is prohibited on Shabbat. In America there is a saying that some people live to work and others work to live, and it is usually used by people who count themselves among the latter, who think the former are obsessive. This mishna, and I would argue, traditional Judaism, rejects the dichotomy. This mishna suggests that we should love our creative work. This is at odds with the idea that there is something obsessive about placing a high priority on one's work, and also with the idea that work is just a means toward the end of living. Rather, the mishna suggests that there is something virtuous in work for it's own sake. If we reflect on the fact that "melacha" is what is prohibited to be done on Shabbat, and why it is prohibited-to mimic the Creator's rest after creating the universe, we get an inkling of why we should love "melacha": it is our equivalent to the act of creating the universe. Through our creative work, we imitate the act of the Creator in creating the universe in irreversibly reshaping the world. This view ennobles us as little creators and shapers of the world, as opposed to the view in the saying that reduces us to atoms whose only value is our personal pleasure.
The two remaining admonitions in this mishna follow logically from the first, and explain it. If our creative work is the source of our self-actualization, high position really distracts from it by placing emphasis on the recognition of those authorities who conferred the high position, presumably for their own selfish reasons. Similarly, one who becomes too close to the authorities becomes corrupted by them, to the extent that he diverts his talents to pleasing the authorities, instead of maximizing the quality of his creative work.
The central tenet of this mishna is the advice to "love work". The Hebrew word used for work is "melacha," the kind of creative work which is prohibited on Shabbat. In America there is a saying that some people live to work and others work to live, and it is usually used by people who count themselves among the latter, who think the former are obsessive. This mishna, and I would argue, traditional Judaism, rejects the dichotomy. This mishna suggests that we should love our creative work. This is at odds with the idea that there is something obsessive about placing a high priority on one's work, and also with the idea that work is just a means toward the end of living. Rather, the mishna suggests that there is something virtuous in work for it's own sake. If we reflect on the fact that "melacha" is what is prohibited to be done on Shabbat, and why it is prohibited-to mimic the Creator's rest after creating the universe, we get an inkling of why we should love "melacha": it is our equivalent to the act of creating the universe. Through our creative work, we imitate the act of the Creator in creating the universe in irreversibly reshaping the world. This view ennobles us as little creators and shapers of the world, as opposed to the view in the saying that reduces us to atoms whose only value is our personal pleasure.
The two remaining admonitions in this mishna follow logically from the first, and explain it. If our creative work is the source of our self-actualization, high position really distracts from it by placing emphasis on the recognition of those authorities who conferred the high position, presumably for their own selfish reasons. Similarly, one who becomes too close to the authorities becomes corrupted by them, to the extent that he diverts his talents to pleasing the authorities, instead of maximizing the quality of his creative work.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Pirkei Avot 1:9
"Shimon ben (son of) Shatach said: Examine witnesses thoroughly and be careful with your words lest through them they learn to lie."
One one level this is advice to judges. As such, it makes sense: to determined the truth, a judge must ask many questions, in a way that doesn't reveal the answers he suspects.
But it seems to me that this mishna is not just about advice to judges. We are all judges of hundreds of questions, issues and challenges that arise daily, and the people we interact with daily are witnesses of events that are the basis for our decisions and our actions. On this level, this mishna is about how to interact with others and how to live. By the questions we ask, and the way we ask them, we learn about the world and those around us. When we come to life with preconceived notions and fail to inquire earnestly about the problems and decisions we face, we live errantly. To live seriously, we must be aware of those around us, and learn from them, and take our decisions in our daily lives as seriously as judges take their decisions. There is a point to this: living justly every day, to the best of our ability, matters, perhaps as much as anything else.
"Shimon ben (son of) Shatach said: Examine witnesses thoroughly and be careful with your words lest through them they learn to lie."
One one level this is advice to judges. As such, it makes sense: to determined the truth, a judge must ask many questions, in a way that doesn't reveal the answers he suspects.
But it seems to me that this mishna is not just about advice to judges. We are all judges of hundreds of questions, issues and challenges that arise daily, and the people we interact with daily are witnesses of events that are the basis for our decisions and our actions. On this level, this mishna is about how to interact with others and how to live. By the questions we ask, and the way we ask them, we learn about the world and those around us. When we come to life with preconceived notions and fail to inquire earnestly about the problems and decisions we face, we live errantly. To live seriously, we must be aware of those around us, and learn from them, and take our decisions in our daily lives as seriously as judges take their decisions. There is a point to this: living justly every day, to the best of our ability, matters, perhaps as much as anything else.
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