Pirkei Avot 1:8
Yehuda ben (son of) Tabbai and Shimon ben Shatach received the transmission from them [the previous generation of scholars, listed in Mishna 6]. Yehuda ben Tabbai said: Do not act as an adviser among the judges. When the litigants are standing before you they should be in your eyes as guilty. When they are dismissed from before you they should be in your eyes as innocent, provided they have accepted the decision.
This mishna seems at first to be jarring. Why should a judge view both litigants as guilty, when one of them might be innocent or righteous? We are advised elsewhere in the Pirkei Avot to judge on the side of merit. Why should we view both litigants as innocent after we may have proclaimed one to be guilty? The mishna makes sense if we understand it as a description of the perspective of the Divine: above the fray, aware of the foibles of men and women in the actual world, yet loving them. In our humanity, we all have our self-centered perspective that colors our view and our actions. The "adviser," like a lawyer, advocates for one, but even that one is seeking his own personal benefit, because that is an essential attribute of humanity. The Divine perspective, seeing that, knows that each person is "guilty" of being an atom, a small part of the universe, pursuing its own self-interest above all else. We all distort the truth by seeing it from the only perspective from which we can. The judge must see it from a higher, objective reality above the perspective of the litigants. Yet once the judgment is rendered and the litigants accept it, they adopt the perspective of the judge: universal truth, not their own, personal perspective. The awareness that there is a perspective above our personal perspective is the awareness of the Divine perspective, and thereby, the awareness of the Divine. Judges can imitate it when they perform their function at the highest level, although they remain human. We can perceive an aspect of the Divine when read and understand the meaning of this mishna.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Pirkei Avot 1:7
"Nittai of Arbel said, distance yourself from a bad neighbor, do not befriend a wicked person, and do not despair of punishment."
After all the previous passages advising us how to live rightly, in accordance with Torah, we come upon this passage that recognizes the problem of evil; people who not only do not attempt to live rightly, but choose, for whatever reason, to act badly. Nittai recognizes that such people can be all around us: neighbors and people we encounter in daily life. His advice to distance yourself from them can be contrasted with John Milton's opinion in Areopagitica: "I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly, we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather; that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That virtue which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness; which was the reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser...describing true temperance under the person of Guion, brings him in with his palmer through the cave of Mammon, and the bower of earthly bliss, that he might see and know, and yet abstain." Nittai's advice also seems contrary to the calling to Jews to be "ohr l'goyim," a light to the nations.
The opposition of these two views of virtue is truly one of the fundamental issues in the understanding of virtue. One views virtue as a quality that is developed by study and imitation of the virtuous, because it is a priori derived from Torah. The second views virtue as a quality which is developed through adversity, and therefore developed a posteriori from experience. Undoubtedly, the first must be the quintessentially Jewish view, since the commandments of Torah are the only source of virtue, and as we are told in Netzavim, G-d rewards following the commandments and punishes violating them. The other view bases virtue on the qualities of moral strength of the man; the Latin root of virtue is "vir," or man. In the Jewish view, the vices of the wicked can be imparted to us if we have excessive contact with them, whereas in Milton's view, contact with the wicked provides "trial," which purifies us. In the Jewish view, we can be "ohr l'goyim" only by nurturing our yetzer tov, our good inclination, by study and imitation of the virtuous, and then providing an example to others, and G-d provides further motivation to others by exacting retribution on the wicked.
"Nittai of Arbel said, distance yourself from a bad neighbor, do not befriend a wicked person, and do not despair of punishment."
After all the previous passages advising us how to live rightly, in accordance with Torah, we come upon this passage that recognizes the problem of evil; people who not only do not attempt to live rightly, but choose, for whatever reason, to act badly. Nittai recognizes that such people can be all around us: neighbors and people we encounter in daily life. His advice to distance yourself from them can be contrasted with John Milton's opinion in Areopagitica: "I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly, we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather; that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That virtue which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness; which was the reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser...describing true temperance under the person of Guion, brings him in with his palmer through the cave of Mammon, and the bower of earthly bliss, that he might see and know, and yet abstain." Nittai's advice also seems contrary to the calling to Jews to be "ohr l'goyim," a light to the nations.
The opposition of these two views of virtue is truly one of the fundamental issues in the understanding of virtue. One views virtue as a quality that is developed by study and imitation of the virtuous, because it is a priori derived from Torah. The second views virtue as a quality which is developed through adversity, and therefore developed a posteriori from experience. Undoubtedly, the first must be the quintessentially Jewish view, since the commandments of Torah are the only source of virtue, and as we are told in Netzavim, G-d rewards following the commandments and punishes violating them. The other view bases virtue on the qualities of moral strength of the man; the Latin root of virtue is "vir," or man. In the Jewish view, the vices of the wicked can be imparted to us if we have excessive contact with them, whereas in Milton's view, contact with the wicked provides "trial," which purifies us. In the Jewish view, we can be "ohr l'goyim" only by nurturing our yetzer tov, our good inclination, by study and imitation of the virtuous, and then providing an example to others, and G-d provides further motivation to others by exacting retribution on the wicked.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Pirkei Avot 1:6
"Yehoshua ben (son of) Perachia and Nittai of Arbel received the transmission from them [the rabbis of Mishna 4]. Yehoshua ben Perachia said: Make for yourself a rabbi, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person favorably."
The underlying subject of this mishna is how to live. What do making for yourself a rabbi, acquiring for yourself a friend and judging every person favorably have in common? It is making right choices in everyday life. A rabbi knows the law and the priorities among the mitzvot, and how they apply practically to everyday life, and a rabbi that we make for ourself will come to know us as well. A friend can know us, and our strengths and weaknesses, and help us make decisions and sort out our priorities by helping us see ourselves and our choices from another perspective. Judging others favorably acknowledges the difficulty of applying the mitzvot to the myriad of daily choices we are faced with, and the possibility that the other person may be trying to do so.
There are four premises implicit in this mishna: first, that we are ethical beings, who ought to, and want to act ethically or in accordance with halacha; second, that it is not always obvious how to do so; living ethically or halachically requires knowledge and thoughtfulness; and third, that living ethically or halachically requires the assistance of others, who know the law, and who know us; and fourth, that others may be trying to live ethically or halachically as well.
There are further implications from these premises. First, that anyone, Jew or gentile, can choose to live ethically or not. The art of living ethically is difficult, and requires assistance of others, but is clearly meritorious. Second, that ethical living for a Jew is defined by reference to Torah, which is why we are advised to take a rabbi for ourselves. Third, that we act ethically or halachically by looking for the best in others. What this means is to love others, for love is essentially favorable interpretation of the loved one. Loving others inclines us to act ethically or halachically toward them. Love is the meta-mitzvah in our relationships with other people, because it inclines us to perform other miztvot toward others. Of course, halacha also contains mitzvot in our relationship to God, but God in his infinite wisdom commands us to treat others with love.
The underlying subject of this mishna is how to live. What do making for yourself a rabbi, acquiring for yourself a friend and judging every person favorably have in common? It is making right choices in everyday life. A rabbi knows the law and the priorities among the mitzvot, and how they apply practically to everyday life, and a rabbi that we make for ourself will come to know us as well. A friend can know us, and our strengths and weaknesses, and help us make decisions and sort out our priorities by helping us see ourselves and our choices from another perspective. Judging others favorably acknowledges the difficulty of applying the mitzvot to the myriad of daily choices we are faced with, and the possibility that the other person may be trying to do so.
There are four premises implicit in this mishna: first, that we are ethical beings, who ought to, and want to act ethically or in accordance with halacha; second, that it is not always obvious how to do so; living ethically or halachically requires knowledge and thoughtfulness; and third, that living ethically or halachically requires the assistance of others, who know the law, and who know us; and fourth, that others may be trying to live ethically or halachically as well.
There are further implications from these premises. First, that anyone, Jew or gentile, can choose to live ethically or not. The art of living ethically is difficult, and requires assistance of others, but is clearly meritorious. Second, that ethical living for a Jew is defined by reference to Torah, which is why we are advised to take a rabbi for ourselves. Third, that we act ethically or halachically by looking for the best in others. What this means is to love others, for love is essentially favorable interpretation of the loved one. Loving others inclines us to act ethically or halachically toward them. Love is the meta-mitzvah in our relationships with other people, because it inclines us to perform other miztvot toward others. Of course, halacha also contains mitzvot in our relationship to God, but God in his infinite wisdom commands us to treat others with love.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
"Yossi ben (son of) Yochanan of Jerusalem said: Let your house be open wide, let the poor be members of your household, and do not chatter excessively with women. This was said regarding one's own wife, certainly with another's wife. Based on this the Sages have said, one who chatters excessively with women causes evil to himself, wastes time from Torah study, and will eventually inherit Gehenna."
This verse is an intellectual roller coaster. The beginning wrenches us from the message of transmission of the Torah (sitting in the dust of the sages' feet and drinking in their words) to g'milut chasidim-acts of lovingkindness. The implication is that the teachings of Torah, and perhaps the purpose of the teachings of Torah, are to lead to acts of lovingkindness. The other implication is that the poor have wisdom and dignity, as do the sages.
But then suddenly, the topic turns to something that seems totally unrelated, and even archaic: "...and do not chatter excessively with women." What possible connection does this have to the previous text? And how jarring, in this world where there are women rabbis, who wear kippot and tallitot, in synagogues where men do not! Are we to skip this section, and dismiss it as archaic? I prefer not to, trusting in the timeless wisdom of the text, or at least curious enough about what the text has to say to examine it further, to try to squeeze the meaning from it. The clues to the meaning of the text are in the words "chatter excessively," which appear twice, and the phrase "wastes time from Torah study." The text is acknowledging the power of the charm that women have over men, that can distract men from the study of Torah and the pursuit of spiritual improvement. It is not so much a statement about women, who are revered in the texts, as it is about the weakness of men. The words "chatter excessively" imply relating to women on the basis of their attractiveness and charm, as opposed to the more spiritual bonds between men and women. Even the work "excessively" allows for some leeway in relating to women on the basis of their charm, as long as it is not excessive. The bottom line is that at the end of the day, we must return to Torah, and to the primacy of the spiritual over the physical.
This verse is an intellectual roller coaster. The beginning wrenches us from the message of transmission of the Torah (sitting in the dust of the sages' feet and drinking in their words) to g'milut chasidim-acts of lovingkindness. The implication is that the teachings of Torah, and perhaps the purpose of the teachings of Torah, are to lead to acts of lovingkindness. The other implication is that the poor have wisdom and dignity, as do the sages.
But then suddenly, the topic turns to something that seems totally unrelated, and even archaic: "...and do not chatter excessively with women." What possible connection does this have to the previous text? And how jarring, in this world where there are women rabbis, who wear kippot and tallitot, in synagogues where men do not! Are we to skip this section, and dismiss it as archaic? I prefer not to, trusting in the timeless wisdom of the text, or at least curious enough about what the text has to say to examine it further, to try to squeeze the meaning from it. The clues to the meaning of the text are in the words "chatter excessively," which appear twice, and the phrase "wastes time from Torah study." The text is acknowledging the power of the charm that women have over men, that can distract men from the study of Torah and the pursuit of spiritual improvement. It is not so much a statement about women, who are revered in the texts, as it is about the weakness of men. The words "chatter excessively" imply relating to women on the basis of their attractiveness and charm, as opposed to the more spiritual bonds between men and women. Even the work "excessively" allows for some leeway in relating to women on the basis of their charm, as long as it is not excessive. The bottom line is that at the end of the day, we must return to Torah, and to the primacy of the spiritual over the physical.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Pirkei Avot, 1:4
"Yossi ben (son of) Yo'ezer of Ts'raidah and Yossi ben Yochanan of Jerusalem received [the transmission] from them. Yossi ben Yo'ezer used to say: Let your house be a meeting place for the sages, cleave to the dust of their feet, and drink thirstily their words."
With this mishna, we have now passed from transmission to reception of Torah. The first mishna of the chapter was an instruction to the teachers; this is an instruction to the students. This is not accidental. The generation that learned from Moses, who were personally responsible for transmitting the law, lest it be forgotten for posterity, is now gone. We are now left with the men who learned from the men of the Great Assembly, who are now more concerned with persuading us to receive the transmission, than with persuading those who received it to transmit it. The emphasis of l'dor v'dor has changed from the need to transmit, to the need to receive what is transmitted.
On a literal level, the mishna addresses rules of our house; we are to welcome sages and learn from them. But it is inescapable that the mishna also addresses our spiritual home, for it is not just in our house that we learn. Rather, in our lives we must seek out and draw from those who are learned in Torah their habits and priorities. The Torah, when earnestly studied over a period of time, changes the character of the student. This changed character is contained metaphorically in "the dust of their feet" and in "their words". It is this character, that is molded by deep study of Torah and that can be acquired from those learned in the Torah, that is to be earnestly sought out and emulated by the community of Israel at large.
"Yossi ben (son of) Yo'ezer of Ts'raidah and Yossi ben Yochanan of Jerusalem received [the transmission] from them. Yossi ben Yo'ezer used to say: Let your house be a meeting place for the sages, cleave to the dust of their feet, and drink thirstily their words."
With this mishna, we have now passed from transmission to reception of Torah. The first mishna of the chapter was an instruction to the teachers; this is an instruction to the students. This is not accidental. The generation that learned from Moses, who were personally responsible for transmitting the law, lest it be forgotten for posterity, is now gone. We are now left with the men who learned from the men of the Great Assembly, who are now more concerned with persuading us to receive the transmission, than with persuading those who received it to transmit it. The emphasis of l'dor v'dor has changed from the need to transmit, to the need to receive what is transmitted.
On a literal level, the mishna addresses rules of our house; we are to welcome sages and learn from them. But it is inescapable that the mishna also addresses our spiritual home, for it is not just in our house that we learn. Rather, in our lives we must seek out and draw from those who are learned in Torah their habits and priorities. The Torah, when earnestly studied over a period of time, changes the character of the student. This changed character is contained metaphorically in "the dust of their feet" and in "their words". It is this character, that is molded by deep study of Torah and that can be acquired from those learned in the Torah, that is to be earnestly sought out and emulated by the community of Israel at large.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Pirkei Avot 1:3
"Antignos of Socho received [the transmission] from Shimon the Righteous. He used to say: Do not be as servants who serve the Master to receive reward. Rather, be as servants who serve the Master not to receive reward. And let the fear of heaven be upon you."
The first sentence of Antigonus' teaching is easy to comprehend: We must not follow God's commands out of expectation of reward. As we know, and as Rabbi Kushner has reminded us, good things don't always come to people who do good things. In the words of the popular American saying, "goods deeds rarely (or never) go unpunished." So why do good deeds? The next sentence gives a murky answer: to be as servants who serve the Master not to receive reward. Why would a servant serve a master with no expectation of reward? There are two possibilities: fear of punishment for not serving, or love of the Master. The final sentence suggests that it is both. The key Hebrew word in the sentence, "Morah," is related to "Yara," fear, and to "Moreh," teacher. It is not fear of a specific punishment for a specific transgression, because the text doesn't use the word "punishment," and the idea that all bad deeds are punished is as unsophisticated as the idea that all good deeds are rewarded. Rather, it is the fear that negative consequences will come from a life of not aligning oneself with the dominant force in the universe, and at the same time the moral teacher of the universe. We should not expect reward for serving God by following his commandments, but we should live with the belief that they come from the master and moral teacher of the universe.
"Antignos of Socho received [the transmission] from Shimon the Righteous. He used to say: Do not be as servants who serve the Master to receive reward. Rather, be as servants who serve the Master not to receive reward. And let the fear of heaven be upon you."
The first sentence of Antigonus' teaching is easy to comprehend: We must not follow God's commands out of expectation of reward. As we know, and as Rabbi Kushner has reminded us, good things don't always come to people who do good things. In the words of the popular American saying, "goods deeds rarely (or never) go unpunished." So why do good deeds? The next sentence gives a murky answer: to be as servants who serve the Master not to receive reward. Why would a servant serve a master with no expectation of reward? There are two possibilities: fear of punishment for not serving, or love of the Master. The final sentence suggests that it is both. The key Hebrew word in the sentence, "Morah," is related to "Yara," fear, and to "Moreh," teacher. It is not fear of a specific punishment for a specific transgression, because the text doesn't use the word "punishment," and the idea that all bad deeds are punished is as unsophisticated as the idea that all good deeds are rewarded. Rather, it is the fear that negative consequences will come from a life of not aligning oneself with the dominant force in the universe, and at the same time the moral teacher of the universe. We should not expect reward for serving God by following his commandments, but we should live with the belief that they come from the master and moral teacher of the universe.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Pirkei Avot, 1:2
"Shimon the Righteous was of the last survivors of the Men of the Great Assembly. He used to say, the world is based upon three things: on Torah, on service [of G-d], and on acts of kindness."
As one of the last survivors of the men of the Great Assembly, Shimon the Righteous must have felt the obligation to transmit the essence of Torah to the next generation in the most understandable fashion, so that it would continue. The first two of the three things are not surprising: the Torah is the thing that Shimon was obligated to transmit, as one of the last survivors of the last group to whom it had been passed from Moses, who received it from God. The Torah had to be the first thing that Shimon would say the world stood on. It is also not surprising that service of God would be the second thing, for the service of God, through the performance of the Mitzvot, is what the Torah commands. What is surprising is the third thing: acts of kindness. It doesn't follow the pattern. The logical next thing, after service of God, which is following the commandments of the Torah governing the relationship between man and God, would be following the commandments of the Torah governing the relationship between man and man. Acts of kindness depart from the pattern of following the commandments of the Torah, in favor of a generalized human-centered observance. Note that that third thing is not "service of man," which would parallel service of God; rather it is acts of kindness, which are defined by human feelings about what constitutes "kindness". This is an example of an essential inclination of rabbinic Judaism, similar to the tendency of the oral tradition to favor leniency in interpretation of harsh Toraitic punishments, and dissimilar to the tendency of the Moslem tradition toward literal interpretation of harsh Koranic punishments. It is also similar to the teaching of the Golden Rule (don't do to others what is hateful to you) and forshadows the tendency of liberal Judaism to view the essence of Judaism as tikkun olam, which is generally interpreted to mean doing good deeds for other people, both of which ignore the God-centered commandments. Shimon the Righteous had it as one of three things upon which the world stands. In modern liberal Judaism, the third leg has become longer than the first two. This is not meant as an indictment of the inclination to human kindness as a direction of Jewish observance; rather, it is meant as an observation about how the tradition has developed.
"Shimon the Righteous was of the last survivors of the Men of the Great Assembly. He used to say, the world is based upon three things: on Torah, on service [of G-d], and on acts of kindness."
As one of the last survivors of the men of the Great Assembly, Shimon the Righteous must have felt the obligation to transmit the essence of Torah to the next generation in the most understandable fashion, so that it would continue. The first two of the three things are not surprising: the Torah is the thing that Shimon was obligated to transmit, as one of the last survivors of the last group to whom it had been passed from Moses, who received it from God. The Torah had to be the first thing that Shimon would say the world stood on. It is also not surprising that service of God would be the second thing, for the service of God, through the performance of the Mitzvot, is what the Torah commands. What is surprising is the third thing: acts of kindness. It doesn't follow the pattern. The logical next thing, after service of God, which is following the commandments of the Torah governing the relationship between man and God, would be following the commandments of the Torah governing the relationship between man and man. Acts of kindness depart from the pattern of following the commandments of the Torah, in favor of a generalized human-centered observance. Note that that third thing is not "service of man," which would parallel service of God; rather it is acts of kindness, which are defined by human feelings about what constitutes "kindness". This is an example of an essential inclination of rabbinic Judaism, similar to the tendency of the oral tradition to favor leniency in interpretation of harsh Toraitic punishments, and dissimilar to the tendency of the Moslem tradition toward literal interpretation of harsh Koranic punishments. It is also similar to the teaching of the Golden Rule (don't do to others what is hateful to you) and forshadows the tendency of liberal Judaism to view the essence of Judaism as tikkun olam, which is generally interpreted to mean doing good deeds for other people, both of which ignore the God-centered commandments. Shimon the Righteous had it as one of three things upon which the world stands. In modern liberal Judaism, the third leg has become longer than the first two. This is not meant as an indictment of the inclination to human kindness as a direction of Jewish observance; rather, it is meant as an observation about how the tradition has developed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)