The essence of piety

G-d's Immanent Presence






Chapter 2, Mishnas 10-11(c)



Mishna 10



"Rabban Yochanan ben (son of) Zakkai had five [primary] students. They were: Rabbi Eliezer ben Hurkenos, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya, Rabbi Yossi the Priest, Rabbi Shimon ben Nesanel, and Rabbi Elazar ben Arach."



Mishna 11



"He used to enumerate their praises: R. Eliezer ben Hurkenos is a cemented pit which never loses a drop; R. Yehoshua ben Chananya - fortunate is she who bore him; R. Yossi the Priest is pious; R. Shimon ben Nesanel fears sin; and R. Elazar ben Arach is as an increasing river."



In the previous class we discussed the trait of R. Yossi -- piety / chassidus. As we saw, the chassid is one who goes beyond the letter of the law in his service of G-d. He does not do only what he is told but looks for ways to fulfill G-d's will. This requires intelligence and planning; one must anticipate just what G-d wants of him and how he can maximize his talents and abilities in service of his Creator.



As we also saw, this stands in direct contrast to the mock-chassidus prevalent at some points in Jewish history, consisting of fasting, wailing, constant immersions, rolling in the snow, etc. G-d has no interest in senseless service -- that we do things just because they're hard (and get us a lot of notice). Piety is not doing things which hurt. It is careful, planned and responsible service of G-d. We are not supposed to sacrifice ourselves for G-d with self-destructive acts of devotion; we are to live for Him -- as responsible, thinking beings who make intelligent choices in our religious service. We are to maximize our potential -- our health, our wealth, our brains and abilities -- and use that potential in service of our Creator.



(As we also pointed out last week, by "chassidus" we are not referring to the movement of Chassidus which began in the mid 18th century. We are talking about the spiritual quality -- whose name the movement adopted as a way of defining its objective.)



There's a fascinating additional insight related to chassidus. It will more fully introduce us to the true level of chassidus. It is in truth an entirely new level of reality -- one a person does not simply adopt but must achieve.



The Talmud (Brachos 32-33) records two incidents which occurred to chassidim. The first goes as follows: A chassid was standing by the roadside in prayer. A Roman government official passed by and greeted him. The chassid, engrossed in his prayers, did not respond. The Roman waited until the chassid completed his prayers and then berated him: "Fool! Doesn't your Torah state 'Be very careful with your lives' (Deut. 4:15)? [Author's note: In Talmudic times, wicked people always seemed to be experts in Scripture. Either that, or that's just the way the Talmud tells a story. :-)] If I would cut off your head right now who would have any grounds to complain?"



The chassid requested a moment to explain himself. He calmly responded: "If you were standing before the Emperor and your friend came and greeted you, would you respond?" Roman: "No." Chassid: "And if you would, what would result?" Roman: "They would cut my head off." Chassid: "If this is so for a flesh-and-blood king, isn't it all the more so for me who was standing before the King of kings, the Holy One blessed be He?" The Roman went off appeased and they all lived happily ever after (as traditional stories always end).



The second story involved the holy Jew Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa. There was a venomous "aroad" (a snake-like creature) in the environs of R. Chanina which was wreaking havoc. R. Chanina asked to be shown its lair. He came to the hole and put his bare heel next to it. The aroad came out, bit him, and died. The rabbi then put the dead creature on his shoulders and brought it to the study hall. He announced: "See my children, it is not the aroad that kills; it is sin that kills." From then on people used to say: "Woe to the person who meets an aroad, and woe to the aroad who meets R. Chanina ben Dosa!"



There is an obvious difficulty with both of the above stories. We know the Torah does not allow us to unnecessarily endanger our lives (as the Roman himself reminded the chassid). Therefore, from the standpoint of Jewish law, it is not correct to ignore a Gentile official carrying a large sword -- no matter how intently you are praying, and certainly to purposely stick your ankle in front of a poisonous snake. If so, what gave the heroes of our stories the right to act differently? They broke Jewish law! Did they just assume they were so "pious" G-d would perform open miracles for them?



The answer is hinted in R. Chanina's very response. How could he so blithely state that an aroad does not kill; sin does? What about the very real chemical properties of snake venom? The answer is that R. Chanina's remark was for him a statement of reality; it was not an act of faith. He was on such a level of belief in the workings of G-d that he could have an aroad stick its fangs into him, and he knew full well that since he had done no sins deserving death its venom could not affect him.

We, by contrast, might accept this on a conceptual level -- that the dangers of this world harm only those deserving -- but for us it is a matter of faith alone. We live in the world of physical reality -- poison kills -- and only accept upon faith that it is really G-d behind it all that wills the poison to kill. But for someone on the level of chassidus, G-d is the only true source of punishment -- much more so than His physical messengers. And in that universe, R. Chanina was not even endangering himself allowing the aroad to bite him.




Similarly for the chassid of the first story. When we pray, we believe -- again, on the level of faith -- that G-d stands before us and hears our prayers. Thus, we have such laws as that we take three steps forward at the start of the Shemoneh Esrei prayer and take three steps backwards at its conclusion. We are -- at least in the eyes of Jewish law -- approaching and standing before our Maker. But for us it is a theoretical and at best a legal concept. Our thoughts would hardly wander the way they do if we really felt we were standing before G-d. But the chassid was standing before G-d -- no less so than had the Roman been standing before the Emperor. And so, his interrupting his prayers would have been no different than the Roman interrupting his conversation. And that he could not do -- not because he felt he could ignore the Torah injunction not to endanger his life, but because he *really was* standing in front of G- d -- and so how could he interrupt?



There are two important lessons from the above stories. First, it's nice to know that there are really people on such a high level of reality -- who live with G-d. And when one is there, he can run his life knowing that G-d is with him. If a person recognizes G-d as an immanent Presence, he can rely on that closeness -- not because he is relying on miracles, but because he knows G-d is really there caring for his every need.

(In the same vein, there were Jews at times great enough to receive the revelation of prophecy. If G-d is entirely real to you even before the revelation, an encounter with G-d will not really alter your basic perception of reality. For most of us, however, who believe in G-d on the theoretical much more than the practical plane, seeing G-d would be a mind- jolt from which we'd never recover.)




The second lesson for us is that chassidus is not a level one can simply adopt at will. If a person has reached it, if after a lifetime of dedication he has come to know G-d to the degree that G-d really dwells with him, then he can act upon it. If, however, you are not there, you cannot force it. If you're not really standing before G-d, you had better interrupt for the Roman. If you feel your own efforts bring in your paycheck rather than G-d's beneficence, you had better keep working. That is the reality within the vast majority of us live, and leaps of faith beyond that are just leaps into the unknown.



Of course, there is very little we can learn practically from the above stories as well as from R. Yossi's level. But it is important at times to get a glimpse of the true depth of Judaism, of the levels of devotion the truly great can achieve. Judaism is not only a religion of faith and belief. G-d exists and can sometimes be sensed by us on the level of the practical. In fact, we all have those moments in our lives in which we recognize that G-d had really been working things out for us all along, that in spite of our best efforts to the contrary, G-d was directing us where we needed to go, and only G-d's guiding Hand could have been behind it all. (A good friend once mentioned to me that years earlier, when he was searching for work, he found a job only in city #1 while he was really trying to find work and settle down in the much larger and more commercial city #2. The end result was that he met his future wife shortly after moving to city #1 -- as well as getting inv olved in a Jewish learning program there.) And so, we all get our occasional glimpses of the level of chassidus. For some, G-d is always there. But all of us can live with the deeper realization that G-d really is there -- and will pitch in for us when we really need Him.

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.