Thus, a person with firmly "rooted" beliefs -- meaning, who acts on his convictions -- is a tree with many roots and few branches.

Chapter 3, Mishna 22 "He [R. Elazar ben Azariah] used to say: Anyone whose wisdom is greater than his deeds to what is he comparable? To a tree whose branches are many and whose roots are few, and the wind comes and turns it over. [This is] as it is stated, 'And he will be like a lonely tree in a wasteland, and it will not see when good comes. It will dwell on parched soil in the desert, a salty land, uninhabited' (Jeremiah 17:6). But one whose deeds are greater than his wisdom to what is he comparable? To a tree whose branches are few and whose roots are many, that even if all the winds in the world blow against it, they do not move it from its place. As it is stated, 'And he shall be like a tree planted on the water, and towards the stream it will spread its roots,and it will not see when heat comes. Its leaves will be fresh, in a year of drought it will not worry, and it shall not cease yielding fruit' (ibid. 17:8)." This mishna discusses the importance of actions over study. In theme it is identical to the earlier Mishna 12 (http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter3-12a.html) which stated: "Anyone whose good deeds are greater than his wisdom, his wisdom will endure, and anyone whose wisdom is greater than his good deeds, his wisdom will not endure." We explained there that knowledge of Torah alone, left as abstract, not-applied wisdom will not "endure". It will not become a part of a person and will not change him or her for the better. However, if a person studies the Torah and observes, the Torah's teachings will be integrated into his life. The Torah will come to life for him and will penetrate his soul. Only one who first observes the Torah will truly be able to both understand and appreciate its wisdom. Here R. Elazar (our mishna's author) illustrates this concept. He compares knowledge without deeds to a tree with many branches but few roots. We might at first think to compare wisdom to our roots -- the foundation of our beings, and deeds to the branches -- the results or the fruits of our convictions. Our mishna tells us otherwise. Actions form the basis of our beings. We are what we do, not what we admit to intellectually. If someone "knows" he should act a certain way, he knows G-d exists and will reward and punish, he knows the Torah is truth, he knows he should watch his cholesterol level, etc. etc. -- he "knows" all the right stuff but somehow it just doesn't reach the level of the practical: Well, that plus a subway token will get him a ride on the subway. (Probably a magnetic card nowadays, but would hardly have the same ring...) A person is truly his deeds. If he puts his actions where his mouth is, he stands for something. He does not just spout certain concepts or behaviors; he is willing to live by them. Thus, a person with firmly "rooted" beliefs -- meaning, who acts on his convictions -- is a tree with many roots and few branches. His faith will remain steadfast come the fiercest winds of ill-will and oppression. (Our mishna spoke in metaphor, so you'll indulge me as well.) ;-) One, however, who studies and says but does not do will not persevere in times of trouble. He may pay lip service and go through the motions when the weather is fair, but when faced with temptation and challenge, his faith will not endure. If anything, his excessive knowledge will burden him -- as a tree overladen with branches. He has learned more than he cares to know and observe. Eventually his very knowledge will increase his resentment of G-d and contribute to his toppling. R. Elazar illustrates his point by quoting verses from Jeremiah, describing trees growing in different environments. The truth is, the verses R. Elazar quotes were actually stated in a rather different context. Verse 6, which describes a tree in the desert, was an illustration of v. 5: "...cursed is the one who trusts in man and makes flesh his support, and whose heart is removed from G-d." Similarly, v. 8, describing a tree by the water, illustrates v. 7: "Blessed is the man who trusts in the L-rd...." Now the verses themselves are readily understandable. One who trusts in G-d draws his or her strength and support from G-d's infinite benevolence. He knows he is in G-d's hands. He will be able to withstand suffering and hardship, knowing that G-d is watching over him and that his experiences are purposeful and a part of G-d's plan. King David wrote, "Even as I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear not evil for You are with me" (Psalms 23:4). However, one who trusts in the flesh of man will not draw from any such infinite source. Suffering will be to him a meaningless accident. Even the good he does experience will not draw him closer to the true Source of all that is good. The obvious question, however, is how can R. Elazar quote these verses out of context and apply them to someone who has more or fewer deeds than his wisdom? Does having more deeds somehow relate to trusting G-d? Does a person have fewer deeds because of a lack of trust? I believe that R. Elazar, in his comparison, brings to light a fascinating insight, and teaches us a profound life lesson. Why would a person do less than he knows? Quite often it is because he is only willing to do that which he understands. If he can first make sense of it and convince himself that a mitzvah (commandment) is just, he will observe it. If, however, there does not seem to be any good reason not to eat pork or to have two sets of dishes (for meat and dairy), he will consider it a pointless burden and will discard it. He sets himself as arbiter over G-d's Torah. And his lack of observance stems from a lack of trust that G-d and His Torah are perfect. One who does more than he knows, however, is in effect stating the opposite:"I will do first even if I do not understand. Finding meaning and significance is of course important, but I do not make my fulfillment hinge upon this." This type of person will generally be doing more than he or she "knows" -- or understands why it is required. (See the previous class cited (3:12), in which we observed that this was precisely the intent of the Children of Israel when they accepted the Torah at Sinai. When they stated "We will do and we will hear" (Exodus 24:7), they accepted to first "do", and only to then "hear": study, delve and learn to appreciate.) Thus, the difference between these two types of people is trust. The second person is willing to say "I know G-d knows better and I will follow His laws regardless of whether or not they make sense to me." He has faith that an all-knowledgeable G-d commands in a manner both just and righteous, even if man, with his limited understanding, cannot always comprehend. He is not so different from the man of faith who -- as "a tree planted on the water" -- accepts that G-d knows best even when he endures suffering. The first person, however, is relying on his own sense of right and wrong to arbitrate the justness of G-d's laws. By observing only that which he understands, he is in effect stating that he is not ready to accept the Torah through humble submission to a Higher Authority. He trusts first and foremost his own mind (which has always been man's greatest undoing) -- just as one who works and expends but does not look towards G-d for success,"making flesh his support." I feel this sheds light on an error which many people make in their very worthy quest for spirituality and religion. Many people sincerely sense that Judaism contains truth and meaning, and they begin to study and experience it for themselves. There is no question, they are on the right track (MHO, that is...). But one thing we must keep in mind. Our criteria for discerning truth must not be if each commandment does or does not make sense to us. If the Torah really is the word of an infinite G-d, its veracity should not depend on our ability to understand it. If anything we should be surprised if we found every law in the Torah readily understandable to the human mind, just as we would hardly expect a breakthrough invention to employ no more than high school mathematics and engineering. (Our rule for any specialty area -- religious or not -- should be that if we can understand it, it can't possibly be very good. If I can master a game or piece of software in minutes, it can't be very profound. If I can easily understand how an appliance should be fixed, the repair shouldn't cost very much.) Rather, we must search for G-d on a deeper level: Is there an infinite Creator? Does the world around us point to a Master Designer? Did G-d have a purpose in creating man -- or did He put the requisite work in and then just forget about the whole thing? Does G-d have a plan for the world and a mission for mankind? Did He provide us with instructions for realizing that plan (does it make any sense that He would not)? Is there any evidence indicating that G-d appeared to millions at Mt. Sinai -- as our tradition claims? And lastly, does the pattern of world history seem to intimate a developing Divine plan, a march towards some great and cataclysmic finale to world history? (See class 3:20 (http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter3-20.html) regarding the final question; 3:10 (http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapte r3-10a.html) regarding the second-to-last.) Let us not waste our time agonizing over precisely why G-d would forbid us to wear clothes containing mixtures of wool and linen or why a priest may not marry a divorcee. For if we can conclude the big issues, the smaller ones will not be issues to begin with. And we will then be ready to believe and to trust. As the Jewish Nation -- who did see their Creator close-up -- said first "we will do" and then "we will hear" (Exodus 24:7), we too will accept, follow and observe... and then we will truly understand. (I have heard R. Noach Weinberg OBM, of Yeshiva Aish HaTorah, Jerusalem (http://www.aish.com/rn/) make a point similar to our final.) ____________________________________________________________________________________ http://www.torah.org/learning/pirkei-avos/chapter3-12a.html Last week R. Chanina taught us that one's fear of sin must precede his Torah knowledge if his wisdom is to endure. Only one who fears sin -- who has a sense of accountability towards G-d and respect for tradition, will study the Torah with the requisite sense of commitment One, however, who studies without that basic sense of "fear" and commitment, may study out of curiosity or for intellectual stimulation -- or even spiritual stimulation -- but will not truly be ready to integrate the Torah's values into his life. His study will remain external to his essence; it will not become a part of him. Here R. Chanina offers another requirement for having one's wisdom "endure": practice. One's deeds must be greater than his or her wisdom. He must do more than he understands. He cannot fulfill G-d's word only after he's figured it out and has made sense out of it. He must first do and only then attempt to understand. When G-d offered the Torah to Israel at Sinai, the Children of Israel responded, "We will do and we will hear" (Exodus 24:7). They accepted to first "do": to follow the letter of the law, and only then to "hear": to study, delve and grow to appreciate. In a sense, the reason for this is self-evident -- G-d certainly knows best; we must obey regardless of our limited ability to make sense out of it. But I believe our mishna's message is far more profound. The Children of Israel accepted to "do" first: not to hinge their observance of the mitzvos (commandments) upon their understanding of them. This is simply because it is the height of folly to expect mitzvos which emanate from an infinite and all-knowledgeable G-d to be readily understandable to the human mind. If the Torah were manmade, if it were the brainchild of human creativity, however great, later generations could pass judgment on its worth and relevance based on their own notions of justice and morality. But the Children of Israel in the desert knew better: The Torah was not merely divinely inspired. It was the direct word of G-d. They *saw* G-d at Mount Sinai; they heard Him speaking to Moses (as well as hearing the first two of the Ten Commandments themselves). Man's observance of the Torah could never depend on anything as limited, skewed and frivolous as human understanding. R. Chanina, however, is not simply telling us that our observance must precede our understanding. He states that if it does not our wisdom will never endure. We must "do" or our wisdom will never truly make sense to us and become a part of us. On one level, this is true because the Torah is not very meaningful if not put into practice. The Torah was never intended to be an abstract science. It is not merely a philosophical treatise, providing an ordered system of logical beliefs. It contains lessons for living life. It is a practical guide for living in this world and making sense of it all. It is what R. Noach Weinberg (http://www.aish.com/rn/) describes as G-d's Users' Guide for Planet Earth. And such knowledge will never be fully appreciated if left on the shelf. It is an applied science, not an abstract one. It instructs us in how to integrate eternal beliefs and ethical principles into real-life situations, and how to use truth and morality to build happy, functioning, and productive individuals, homes and societies. Thus, the Torah can never be absorbed in any serious way through the intellect alone. It must be practiced and lived for its beauty and wisdom to truly penetrate the soul. I believe there is a second great truth behind R. Chanina's words, one in which Judaism distinguishes itself from many other religions. Judaism is sometimes viewed as a religion which focuses more on ritual and form than on substance and spirit. Other religions seem to preach that the important thing is to have a good heart, to believe, to love your neighbor, and to be yourself. (You'll pardon the oversimplification -- an ongoing fault of mine.) Judaism believes in all of that of course ("Love your fellow as yourself" does come from us, mind you (Leviticus 19:18)), but it almost seems to "ruin" it by instructing us to death. There are rules and regulations for nearly everything we say and do -- what we can eat, when we can eat, how we can eat, etc. etc. ad infinitum. I mean, does G-d *really* care if we have one or two sets of dishes? Sure, some of the rituals are meaningful and help give our religion structure. But isn't simple faith enough? Isn't man essentially good? Why be bogged down with so much onerous and burdensome ritual? Why can't we just let our natural goodness shine through? R. Chanina's answer is a bit sobering -- perhaps even a little depressing -- but contains a tremendous insight into life. G-d did not give us the Torah just so that we'd have good hearts or live with some basic tenets of belief. We actually *do* have that naturally. It was so that we'd develop ourselves as people. We all know that someone who wants to be great at almost anything -- be it an athlete, musician, pilot, or scholar -- has to train. People are not born winners (or losers for that matter). Talented athletes or musicians may have more potential than others, but realizing that potential takes lots and lots of hard work. It requires practicing, developing, honing, and drilling. And humankind likewise has an enormous potential for good -- for being giving, spiritual, G-dlike individuals. But it is only potential. Realizing that potential takes work: If we want to make anything of ourselves our deeds must far outweigh our wisdom. Being good is hard work. It *is* natural, but it does not *come* naturally. (And in fact, it can easily be corrupted). And this is the mission G-d presented us with when He created us: developing our latent abilities for good and bringing them to actuality. Towards this end G-d gave us the Torah and mitzvos -- the tools for our training. Knowledge and understanding alone are not sufficient. Our mishna tells us that we must practice if we want our wisdom to endure and truly become a part of us. By studying and practicing, we both develop good traits and sublimate "bad" ones in positive directions. But it does not happen automatically; it takes prodigious effort. For as above, being good is hard work. Being great takes a lifetime. We learned earlier in Pirkei Avos, "Study is not the primary thing but action [is]" (1:17). The Torah instructs us in G-d's will and Divine values, but words alone will never change us. For one's wisdom to endure, he must apply it and practice it. The purpose of the Torah is not to impart knowledge. It is to fashion individuals -- into human beings in the image of G-d. In the Sefer HaChinuch, a master treatise on the 613 Commandments, the author (a 13th Century Spanish scholar; the precise authorship is unknown) offers a profound psychological insight: One who acts a certain way -- whatever his intentions -- will be influenced by his deeds and will eventually become the person he impersonates (Mitzvah 16). Nazi underlings, under the pretext of following orders, quickly became the most bestial and sadistic of killers. And we, if we act out the part set out by the Torah, will find ourselves becoming more upright, moral, and caring human beings. Good deeds impact on a person: say we reluctantly give charity to the fundraiser who comes to our door. All good deeds influence us one way or the other, some in obvious ways, while others more subtly and metaphysically. And this, in a single word, is the purpose of the mitzvos -- and the ultimate purpose of our Torah study. We must not approach the Torah expecting to first understand and then to do -- and certainly not with the precondition that we will do only that which we first understand. Rather, we must be prepared to do. I know the Torah was commanded by an infinite Creator, and I know it contains truth. I will make my effort and show my readiness to grow. And I know the growth will then follow. ____________________________________________________________________________________

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

http://sn111w.snt111.mail.live.com/default.aspx?rru=inbox#n=2051985874&rru=inbox&fid=1&fav=1&mid=738d9a92-d74d-11e1-a2a3-00237de4a750&fv=1

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.