The Meaning of piety, the ahm ha'aretz, the boor

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A Religion of Answers






Chapter 2, Mishna 6



"He [Hillel] used to say, a boor cannot fear sin, nor can an unlearned person be pious. A bashful person cannot learn, nor can an impatient one teach. Those who are occupied excessively with business will not become wise [in Torah]. In a place where there are no men, endeavor to be a man."



This week's mishna was authored by Hillel, as the previous mishna. Also as the previous, it contains a number of brief pearls of Hillel's wisdom, many of which we examine below.



Hillel first states that a boor will not fear sin, while an unlearned person ("ahm ha'aretz" -- we'll use the Hebrew term below) will not become pious. The commentators understand fear of sin to be more rudimentary than piety. Thus, whereas the boor will lack even fear of sin, the unlearned ahm ha'aretz may attain fear of sin but will never achieve piety.



The boor is thus clearly inferior to the ahm ha'aretz. Ahm ha'aretz literally means "people of the land" -- the common folk. It implies one who is unlearned in Torah but who is a part of society ("the land") at large. He works at a trade, raises a family, and is generally a law-abiding (and Torah-observant) individual. It does have a negative connotation in the Talmud (and even more so in modern parlance) -- of someone who has never learned the details of Torah law and so whose word cannot be trusted for religious matters. Yet the Sages view this more as a result of lack of knowledge than outright malice.

Such a person can therefore "fear sin." He honors tradition and has respect for authority. He recognizes the importance of religion and structure in his life. He has a place and knows his place in society -- and he basically gets along with others. He is the sort who makes up most of the Jewish masses (cast in the Fiddler-on-the-Roof mold) -- believing on the whole, respectful of tradition, and well-if-sometimes-misguided-intentioned.




An ahm ha'aretz can therefore fear sin. He will honor and uphold the tradition passed along to him -- even if he does not understand it all that well. But piety is beyond him. Piety means sublimating oneself and growing to appreciate the Torah. It implies understanding the meaning and significance behind the laws and going beyond the letter of the law. And without the benefit of Torah study, the ahm ha'aretz will never achieve this. The Torah gives depth to our understanding of Judaism. It teaches not only respect for our tradition but true appreciation of the law. With it, we will grow to love the Torah's commandments and way of life, and we will thirst for knowledge and understanding of G-d. Without Torah study, however, our observance can at best be an expression of fear and perhaps nostalgia. We will be afraid to reject the tradition passed to us, but we will never truly know what it is all about.



A boor, on the other hand, is as the term implies -- one who is uncultured, lacking in all forms of good graces and manners. (Interestingly, the Hebrew word for it is also "boor" -- although poking around on-line, the English term seems to have only medieval, Indo-European roots.) The commentators understand the boor to be one who is lacking both in Torah and refinement of character (Maimonides, Rabbeinu Yonah), or one not gainfully employed (Rashi). Such a person does not even have positive interaction with the world, whether social or economic. He lacks the most basic sense of fair play and common decency.



And someone who lacks basic proper behavior towards man will not likely be much better towards G-d. Without a sense of respect for temporal authority and proper decorum, one will never truly accept the yoke of the Higher Authority above. (This begins to be reminiscent of our discussion of the last two weeks. People who claim to be acting in G-d's name but lack the most basic respect for human dignity and society at large are hardly servants of G-d, let alone His fierce defenders. You see people in Israel littering the streets tossing leaflets out of car windows condemning improper behavior...) One can be personally unlearned as the ahm ha'aretz but still have respect for tradition and society. But without even the most basic sense of respect for human values, one will never even reach the ground floor.

"A bashful person cannot learn": The student who is too ashamed to admit he does not know will never improve his lot. Better to experience a little embarrassment now when he is able to learn rather than a lot of it later -- if not in this world then in the next. As the commentator Rabbeinu Yonah puts it, bashfulness is admirable in almost all other areas, but not when it comes to Torah study.




In my opinion, one of the most remarkable aspects of Judaism is its sense of intellectual honesty. It does not only tolerate questions but encourages the student to ask and to challenge. Throughout the ages other religions have refused to tolerate dissent, repressing skepticism and often forbidding even the translation of their sacred texts into the language of the masses. I believe it was considered terribly treasonous of Martin Luther to translate the Bible into German. A terrible situation if people not of the cloth actually find out what they believe in -- and perhaps even decide for themselves. More recently someone told me of an authoritarian Christian divinity school in which a student (later to return to his Jewish roots) posed a serious question, and the instructor turned to the rest of the class warning them: "Satan is tempting this student!" Accept the gospel, do as I say (perhaps not as I do), or you're a sinner -- doomed to eternal damnation.



Judaism is quite the opposite. Anyone who has studied so much as one page of the Talmud knows that it is filled with questions, debates and challenges. This is precisely how we relate to our tradition. We do not expect nor do we want our students to swallow whole whatever we foist upon them. Each student must question, debate and clarify for himself -- until he is totally sure. Only material we have first pondered and then understood do we truly acquire. At the Passover Seder, for example, we want our children to first pose questions. Ask the Four Questions -- and hopefully many more. Let us pique your curiosity. First *want* to know, and then we will tell you what it is all about.



(It's important to add -- so that this isn't taken too far -- that the fundamental aspects of our religion were demonstrated to us unequivocally and divinely so that they would not be relegated to human inquiry. Thus, the existence of G-d, His omnipotence, and the divinity of the Torah were all demonstrated publicly and unquestionably to the entire nation of Israel at its inception at the Exodus -- which in turn passed on the experience to its descendants until this very day. We certainly want inquisitive and probing students, but unless you're an Abraham, there are very few of us who can figure it all out from scratch.)




More generally speaking, G-d was never interested in blind acceptance of the Torah. Intelligent human beings, in search of meaning, should be turning to religion with inquisitive and penetrating questions: What is life all about? How do we know there is a G-d? What does He want from us? If He really exists, why does He seem to hide Himself from man? One who does not have questions must not truly be searching for meaning in life. And far worse, one who does have questions but is either too ashamed, indifferent or fearful of the consequences of asking, is denying him- or herself the opportunity to benefit from the richness of Jewish tradition. Judaism has nothing to hide. G-d wants our questions. Nothing is too trivial to be asked nor too sacrosanct to be questioned. 3300 years of study and debate has produced a religion of answers, of developed and refined scholarship unmatched in any other area of study. G-d gave us the Torah which provides the answers; only we can ask th e questions.



How often do we at Torah.org receive questions from students which begin something like: "I'm sure I should know this already, but...", or "This is probably a silly question, but..." Well, first of all, nothing is really silly when you don't know the answer. (Afterwards, we might think ourselves fairly silly not to have known, but we at Torah.org are not in the habit of passing around "silly" questions getting a good laugh behind your backs. :-) )

But more importantly, that is really what Judaism is all about. It provides the answers to all of man's silly, stupid, and profound questions about life. Have a question that's "silly", "stupid" or would turn you into a heretic if you posed it? Ask! Try it out! Sincere and probing questioning is what Judaism is! You don't know how we're supposed to believe in a G-d who seems to refuse to reveal Himself to man, how a perfect G-d can allow so much evil in the world, how do we know the Splitting of the Sea really occurred, how can there be an all-powerful G-d who cannot create a stone He cannot lift? Ask! See what our tradition has to offer. See if you become convinced -- or piqued to ask even further. There is no precept so sacred it cannot be questioned, and no question -- nor questioner -- so small it does not deserve our utmost attention.




"In a place where there are no men, endeavor to be a man:" We discussed this statement earlier in Chapter 1 Mishna 10 (www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-10.html). I'll refer the reader to our discussion there.









http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-10.html



Work Makes Equal

Chapter 1, Mishna 10



By Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld

"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."



This mishna offers us advice regarding the proper work ethic. First of all, we are to *love* work. We should not view work as a necessary evil, something we must suffer through in order to make ends meet. Work should ideally give ours lives meaning and ourselves individuality. It affords us a sense of productivity -- that we are making a difference in the world -- and therefore it gives us our sense of existence.



As my teacher R. Yochanan Zweig (www.talmudicu.edu) explained, we tend to measure and value ourselves according to our G-d-given gifts -- our looks, height, intelligence, athletic abilities, wit, etc. But in truth, these are not ours. They are *G-d's*: gifts He handed us through no effort of our own. *We* are what we make of those gifts, how we develop our G-d-given talents and the extent to which we use them to better ourselves and mankind. G-d ends and we begin not with our gifts and bodies but with our achievements.



Further, it should not be our bottom line which gives us the feeling we have produced. We are to love work, not money. Money is a very poor gauge of productivity. The Talmud (Megillah 6b) tells us that when it comes to business (or to day trading for that matter), one may very well meet with success without making any kind of concerted (or competent) efforts. (The Talmud contrasts this to Torah knowledge, which can only be acquired through serious study.) Ultimately it is G-d who grants us our paychecks, often in spite of our greatest efforts to the contrary.



Rather, our focus should be on productivity. The term used by our mishna for work -- "melacha" -- is the same the Torah uses to describe the types of labor forbidden on the Sabbath (Exodus 20:10). The connotation is thus work which produces and brings about a positive change in the world (such as planting, cooking, building, weaving). We should measure ourselves not according to our bottom line or how many people we manage, but according to our output: how productive are we as human beings.



On a practical level as well, work gives man a sense of contentedness. Human beings are most satisfied when they are productive. The Sages state that even one who does not need to work for income should keep himself occupied, for idling leads to madness and to lewdness (Mishna Kesuvos 5:5). (We always hear stories of the fellow who wins x zillion dollars in the lottery, puts it in the bank, and continues being the window washer he always was. He was the lucky one. Most people are ruined for life being handed all the money they could ever dream of (though most of us would be happy to take the challenge... ;-) )



The Talmud tells us further that G-d makes each person's job enjoyable to him -- or at least provides him with the set of talents to make one type of work most fulfilling (Brachos 43b). We can all contribute to mankind in one way or the other. Each of us must simply find his or her calling.



As always, what seems just the good practical advice of the Sages is in truth very much a religious issue. One who finds his job fulfilling will return from work energized. He will then be able to spend a part of his remaining time engaged in religious pursuits such as study and prayer. One, however, who is burnt out by the end of his day will have little energy and enthusiasm for extracurricular activities. Thus, productivity and excitement with life are not only psychologically beneficial; they are important for our religious well-being as well.



Lastly, work fosters an egalitarian attitude. We are all doing our part and making a difference to mankind. If we are each producing up to our capacity, we are all truly equal. And no one is above this very simple definition of equality. The Talmud writes: "One should flay carcasses in the marketplace and earn a living. He should not say 'I am a priest, I am a great man and such work is beneath me'" (Pesachim 113a). We measure ourselves not by our place on the totem pole or how well-connected we are with the powers that be, but by how much we are accomplishing. Of course, one who can be fully productive (and solvent) studying Torah alone is truly fortunate, as the Talmud writes: "Fortunate is he whose labor is in Torah" (Sanhedrin 99b). However, our primary concern must be if we are productive human beings, not if we are in the "right" circles, doing the "right" kind of work (my son, the doctor, the rabbi or whatever the preference may be), and certainly not if we're getting the "right" type of recognition. King Solomon said it best: "Whatever you do, do it with strength" (Koheles / Ecclesiastes 9:10).



Our mishna continues by telling us types of "labor" we should shy from -- ones involving high position and involvement with the authorities. Of course, a manager who organizes and orchestrates others' talents, creating teamwork and harmony within an organization is certainly "producing" himself, in very significant fashion. Likewise the public official who serves the many is in a way producing far more than an individual ever could.

However, our career goals should not involve recognition or being on top. Fame and public attention are hardly things we should wish for. Honor-seeking is practically antithetical to the Jewish virtues of modesty and humility. Further, public servants are almost invariably subject to public scrutiny and resentment, and must face the near impossible task of pleasing all the people all the time. Some of Israel's greatest leaders, such as Moses and King Saul, practically ran from the job only to have it forced upon them by G-d. Even until contemporary times, many of Israel's greatest rabbis were humble and unassuming men who drew little attention to themselves. In spite of this -- or perhaps because of this -- they were recognized as people of exceptional worth and almost de facto became leaders and spokesmen of their generation.




At the same time, however, we will learn later, "In a place where there are no men, endeavor to be a man" (2:6). We do not seek public position, but we must know our own strengths. And if I sincerely realize I am most capable, I must rise to the challenge.


The Catch 22 we are presented with is that the people who are really fit to be leaders are those who do not want the position. Another way of saying this is that if someone actually *wants* to be President going so far as to run for office, he is probably the last person we would want for the job. (I have fond memories of a coworker at a past job (a research center) who demoted himself from a management position (which he was performing quite well) so he could get back to the "real work." OK, it didn't involve a pay cut, but still...) The true stuff of leadership consists of a person of strong inner character, one who would much rather not lead but who reluctantly recognizes that he is most capable of serving his country and humanity. Throughout the course of history, Israel has hardly been immune to self-seeking leaders. Yet we have been blessed with many true leaders, both spiritual and temporal. And through this we have continued -- and may we continue -- to persevere.