Judgment and the afterlife

The Sages, however, never describe it that way. Our mishna states that we will one day have to "give justification and accounting" ("din v'cheshbon") before G-d. It seems that more will transpire than a mere handing down of a verdict. In fact, all throughout Jewish writings our ultimate judgment is portrayed as a trial. We will stand before a heavenly tribunal; we will be forced to view our entire lives and defend ourselves before the fearsome prosecutor. The Talmud states that we will be forced to respond to questions about our behavior in this world (Shabbos 31a), and that we will have to sign our names in approval of the judgment we will receive (Ta'anis 11a). (There appears to be a contradiction in the Talmud if the first question we will be asked is if we conducted our business affairs honestly or if we set aside daily time for Torah study.)

But what's really the point of all this? Are there really going to be court proceedings almost in the manner we have in this world? Isn't the whole thing really just a show trial? Or are the Sages just speaking in colorful metaphor?
"Akavia ben (son of) Mehalalel said: Consider three things and you will not come to sin. Know from where you have come, to where you are heading, and before Whom you will give justification and accounting. From where have you come? From a putrid drop (of semen). To where are you heading? To a place of dirt, worms and maggots. And before Whom will you give justification and accounting? Before the King of kings, the Holy One blessed be He."

Our origins should perhaps be the most humbling aspect of our self-awareness. We all come from the same quite "ordinary" beginnings. Pagan kings of old used to claim descent from the heavenly bodies. And (at the risk of generating a flurry of irate e-mails...), other religions claim their savior spawned from something "holier" than mere sexual relations. We make no such claims. For man should see himself (at least his physical side) as something not so qualitatively different from any beast of the field. Even the greatest Torah scholar once leaked out of his diaper, spat up on his mother's good dress, played ball indoors and broke his parents' expensive vase, and got yelled at by his mother for carrying on. We all began as purely physical, helpless, demanding creatures. What we make of ourselves after is our own choosing. But the humbling memory of our all-too-human past must accompany us all the while

Rabbeinu Yonah comments on our mishna as follows: Much worse than the punishment a person will receive for his sins, he will experience an enormous sense of shame. People are embarrassed by their misdeeds, especially if they are caught in the act, and especially if it exposes them as being of much poorer character than they outwardly project. Continues R. Yonah, if a person is put to shame in this world he will be mortified, but it will eventually subside. Our memories are limited and finite (while other people move on to the next scandal), and we will slowly be able to put the incident out of mind. For in this world, our souls are tempered by their presence in physical bodies.
R. Yonah provides us with a critical insight into the nature of the judgment which awaits us in Heaven: it is shame! Our concept of reward and punishment is not a matter of paying up past debts or of G-d evening the score with us. It is the unbridled self-awareness which will result when our souls depart their bodies. Our souls will be "on trial." We will be forced to face our faults and be cognizant of them -- much as a defendant facing the overwhelming evidence of the prosecution. We will come face to face with our Creator. There will be no protective cloak, no layers of physicality or self-imposed ignorance, and no defense mechanisms. We will not be able to ignore who we are or make feigned excuses. We will be alone with ourselves -- and with our G-d. And this might be the ultimate bliss or the most excruciating torment -- depending, of course, how we spent our lives.
R. Aryeh Kaplan of blessed memory, in his work "Immortality and the Soul," discusses the true nature of Hell. He explains that one of the biggest tasks of our brains is to block out rather than absorb information. If every bit of input which reaches our senses would be registered -- every one of the billions upon billions of cells which trigger in our eyes and ears at every moment, we would quickly be overwhelmed. The human brain acts much more as a reducing valve than a listening device -- blocking out nearly all external stimuli so that we notice only that which we are focused on -- as well as sudden or unexpected sights or sounds on the peripheral. As jamming mechanisms our brains allow ourselves to be productive while allowing for self-preservation.
Our memories work in a similar fashion. They too retain only what they deem necessary, leaving aside most of what is not significant -- as well as that which we would prefer not to remember. (Consider the many recorded cases of child abuse -- in which the child literally put the horrific memories out of his or her mind. Years later, the person has an eerie revulsion for certain people or places -- and he doesn't know why.) Thus, while in our physical state, we cope with life by blocking out and leaving aside much of the unwanted and unnecessary. And what we are left with is often far from the entire story.

However, our consciousness -- our souls -- absorb everything. We know all our mistakes and misdeeds. And when our souls depart from their bodies, they will exist without the jamming mechanisms of the brain. And so, the afterlife will be one of exposure, of coming face to face with our true selves. We will stand naked before G-d, fully aware of all our virtues and all our faults. For some of us this will be the ultimate of bliss. And for others, it will be an eternal hell.

(Just as a parenthetical endorsement, in my humble opinion R. Kaplan's writings are without question the most important works on Jewish thought written in the English language. Many of his most basic works have been published in The Aryeh Kaplan Anthology, by Artscroll Mesorah Publications

Spiritual study and the command to work

Torah Study vs. Earning a Livelihood, Part I





Chapter 2, Mishna 2(a)







"Rabban Gamliel the son of Rabbi Yehuda the Prince said: Good is Torah study together with a worldly occupation, for the exertion in both makes one forget sin. All Torah study without work will result in waste and will cause sinfulness. Anyone who works for the community should work for the sake of Heaven, for the merit of their [the community members'] forefathers will help him, and their righteousness endures forever. And as for you, [says G-d], I will grant you much reward as if you accomplished it on your own."



The first section of this mishna discusses the importance of self-sufficiency and earning a living. In spite of the primacy of Torah study in Jewish life, we are obligated to pursue the "ways of the land." (This is the literal translation of the Hebrew expression used in our mishna -- "derech eretz." The term is often used in reference to a worldly occupation -- and this is how the vast majority of the commentators understand it here. Sometimes the term more generally refers to all forms of proper and healthy interaction among men.)



Our mishna offers two reasons why we must support ourselves. The first is that Torah study combined with work causes one to "forget" sin. The simple meaning, as some commentators understand (Rabbeinu Yonah, Bartenura, R. Hirsch), is that if one holds down a full-time job and studies Torah in his remaining time, he will be too busy (as well as exhausted) to think about sinning. Idle time leads to wandering minds, fantasizing, and cooking up all sorts of wild schemes (Mishna Kesuvos 5:5). (As I once heard R. Noach Orlowek of Jerusalem observe, Pharaoh was actually the first one to point this out. When Moses and Aaron first approached him asking that he grant the Jews a few days off, Pharaoh's immediate reaction was: Make them work harder; they must have too much time to daydream. See Exodus 5.)



Another explanation of "forgetting" sin (Rashi, Meiri, see also Ruach Chaim) is that the combination of Torah study and self-sufficiency will safeguard a person from temptation. If we earn enough to make ends meet, we will have no overpowering temptation to steal from others. Further, if at the same time we study Torah, we will have the moral bearings to protect ourselves from temptation. We will develop a stronger sense of right and wrong, and we will incorporate the Torah's dictate of being happy with one's lot. Finally, the mere fact that we are not pursuing our careers relentlessly but are dividing our time between that and Torah study will stay the often insatiable drive for money and prestige.



The second reason offered by our mishna is that Torah study alone will result in "waste" and "sinfulness". The meaning is clear. One might think he is "saving" himself time by studying Torah without interruption. Money, however, is a problem which does not go away (does go away?), and such a person will soon be reduced to poverty and want. He will then have to start running around looking for some alternate means of support -- and the search will likely be frustrating and ongoing. He will be tempted to beg, cut ethical and legal corners, accept handouts, or outright steal in his desperation, all of which will lower his integrity and self-respect -- and all because he was too "holy" to be responsible for himself in the first place.



And so, as R. Gamliel concludes, the end result will be "waste": Rather than his full-time study saving him time, such a person will become so occupied with the pursuit of money -- both mentally and emotionally -- that he will have neither time nor composure to study very much at all -- certainly far less than had he put in the necessary time into his profession and then devoted his remaining worry-free hours to the study of Torah.



The Sages state this even more clearly later in Pirkei Avos: "If there is no flour (dough?), there is no Torah; if there is no Torah, there is no flour" (3:21 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter3-21b.html). Without a steady means of support -- not of wealth or extravagance, but of support -- there is not only "waste": there is no Torah whatsoever. There is simply no other way about it.

The commentator Rabbeinu Yonah (of 13th Century Spain) adds yet another important angle to this discussion. The psychological effects of not supporting oneself can as well be devastating. Even if one theoretically could subsist on handouts, it would destroy his self-esteem. Living off of others is antithetical to practically all of human virtue. King Solomon wrote: "One who hates gifts will live" (Proverbs 15:27). If one gets by without a sense of being productive himself, he does not have true life. Life is accomplishment and productivity. Sitting back expecting to be handed a welfare check destroys a person and his will to make something of himself. Such a person may feel he's pulling a fast one, getting something for nothing, but -- to invoke a cliche you haven't heard since grade school -- he isn't cheating anyone but himself. (Not that anyone took it very seriously back then, but perhaps we've all matured a little since.)




We learned earlier: "Love work and despise high position" (1:10 www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter1-10.html. We should want to work and make something of ourselves. And our agenda should be our own productivity, not our prestige or position on the totem pole. 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). There is no such thing as being beneath one's dignity to put in an honest day's work. Work is what *gives* us our dignity, as well as our sense of self-worth.



sThe Sages thus view earning a living as a binding obligation, not so different from the many other mitzvos (commandments) of the Torah. (Or at least as an obligation upon one member of the family. In the kesuvah (or ketubah), the marriage contract between husband and wife, the husband assumes responsibility for the financial support of the family.) Likewise, the Talmud teaches us that a father is obligated to teach his son a profession, just as he is obligated to teach his son Torah (and to swim for that matter) (Kiddushin 29a).

There is, however, perhaps a single issue far more critical than everything we have written thus far. Maimonides (Mishne Torah, Talmud Torah 3:10) writes as follows: "Whoever thinks he will study Torah and not work and will be supported from charity, profanes G-d's Name, shames the Torah, darkens the light of knowledge, causes harm to himself, and takes his life from this world. For it is forbidden to derive benefit from the Torah in this world." (Anyone who has studied the works of Maimonides knows that he very rarely waxes poetic. His Hebrew is elegant in its simplicity and clarity of style, but he virtually never wastes his words or gets carried away. The above-quoted passage is practically one of a kind.)

One who thrusts himself and the burden of his support upon others is not only harming himself in all the ways we discussed above. He is desecrating the Name of G-d. Of all people, it will be the Torah scholar who is degraded, who appears to the masses as the nuisance and pathetic beggar. He will disgrace not only himself but the Torah he represents. And this is a desecration of G-d's Name of the highest degree. Rather than the scholar's Torah study earning him the respect and admiration of the masses, he will be scorned and derided -- and it will so reflect on the Torah he is supposed to uphold.




(For that matter, R. Berel Wein has observed that it was a far better arrangement in the days when the community rabbi did not draw a salary from his congregation. (We'll talk about such exceptions to the rule next week, G-d willing.) Once the rabbi is beholden to his constituents -- even for a well-deserved paycheck -- he will not be able to wield authority and speak his piece in the manner he sometimes must. The laymen hold the purse strings and run the board. The rabbi must answer to them rather than they to him.)

Thus far we have made a strong case against Torah study without sufficient means of support. Everyone without exception, it seems, should be earning his keep. However, as with most things in Judaism (and life), there are two sides to every issue. G-d willing next week we will explore some of the exceptions to this principle and their practical applications.