Category: Pirkei Avot

The Rabbi Who Juggled Fire

Image: Rabban Gamliel was famous for juggling lit torches during the Sukkot celebrations in the Temple. (Sukkah 53b) (Vagengeim / Shutterstock, all rights reserved.)

When I was a little child, I would read history and think enviously, “That must have been exciting – I wish I had a time machine!” Now that I’m older, and I’ve lived through a few such times, I know better. It is frightening and draining to hang on as the world seems to spin out of control. We in the United States are living through a simultaneous replay of 1918, 1929, and 1968, with a few added extras.

For me, study has been a refuge. I’ve been teaching and preparing classes nonstop, working harder and longer hours than I have done in years. I’m learning new material in order to be able to teach it. I’m co-teaching two other classes, and find comfort in the partnership with colleagues. I think of the generations of rabbis who have served the Jewish people during terrible times, and I know in my kishkes (Yiddish for guts) that Torah sustained them too.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel used to say: on three things does the world stand: On justice, on truth and on peace, as it is said: “execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates” (Zechariah 8:16).

Pirkei Avot 1:18

Shimon ben Gamaliel (10 BCE – 70 CE) lived during the run-up to the First Jewish Revolt. He was the president of the Great Sanhedrin during his last years, and he died when the Romans beheaded him, along with the High Priest, Ishmael ben Elisha. Rabban Shimon saw his world disintegrate through terrible divisions in Jewish society and under the cruel rule of Rome.

It is interesting that this, likely his most famous quotation, is a drash on a verse from the prophet Zechariah. Zechariah lived in a very different time, a time of rebuilding. He wrote after the Exile in Babylon was over, after Cyrus of Persia authorized a return to Israel and the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem. Zechariah did not live in an idyllic time (see the books of Ezra and Nehemiah for details) but it was a time of building, not of destruction.

What I learn from this is that one way to survive terrible times is to remember that history is full of cycles: some live in troubled times and some live in times of rebuilding. We can use the memory of better times to guide us forward towards better times in the future.

I’m not talking about “the good old days,” some idealized past. I’m talking about looking back for the values that brought out the best in us. Shimon ben Gamaliel looked back to a time when the guiding values were justice, truth, and peace:

  • Justice: that none should be treated as less than others.
  • Truth: that there is such a thing as truth.
  • Peace: not the absence of disagreement, but the presence of justice and truth, so that the world can be built instead of torn down.

We are living in a time like Shimon’s time, in a society polarized to its limit and beyond. The federal government of the United States is pursuing policies that bring out the worst in people, and that prey upon the weakest among us. The line between facts and opinion seems to have disappeared for many people. Peace is nowhere to be found.

I cannot guarantee that things will improve. I can’t promise that they won’t get worse. What I can say for sure is that the Jewish people have been through bad times in the past, and that the sages of the past can offer us guidance. Shimon suggests that justice and truth make peace possible, even in the darkest of times.

May we work for justice.

May we tell the truth.

May the world – our world – know a true peace, a peace based on justice and truth.

And let us say, Amen.

Justice, Truth, and Peace

Image: Statue of Lady Justice. (Alexander Kirch/Shutterstock, all rights reserved)

Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel used to say: on three things does the world stand: On justice, on truth and on peace, as it is said: “execute the judgment of truth and peace in your gates” (Zechariah 8:16).

Pirkei Avot 1:18

This quotation from Pirkei Avot stuck in my mind last night, as I watched the impeachment trial of the president on TV.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel was the president of the Sanhedrin during the First Revolt against Rome, and his life ended in martyrdom: he was beheaded by the Romans, along with the High Priest, Rabbi Ishmael ben Elisha, just before they destroyed the Temple in 70 CE. For his entire life, Roman Judea had been in turmoil.

Shimon was the son of Rabban Gamliel, another president of the Sanhedrin, and his great-grandfather was Hillel the Elder. The family traced their lineage back to King David. They were as close to royalty as the rabbis ever got.

Here and now in the 21st century, things are looking grim. In the impeachment trial, over half the “jurors” (Senators) have signaled a disinterest in justice or truth by voting again and again for a trial without witnesses or evidence. The Senate Majority Leader has said explicitly that the Republicans in the Senate are coordinating their votes with the White House — that without witnesses or evidence, the matter is already decided. Serious charges are being brushed away as if they are a meaningless nuisance.

The world stands on “justice, truth, and peace.” One might also say that those three qualities are interdependent: it is impossible to have any two of the three without the third. If we want justice, then we need to know the truth of a situation. If we want the truth, then we must hear from witnesses and see the evidence. If we want peace, then we need a process for justice that sorts out what is true and that meets inequities with just solutions.

At this moment, the situation seems dark. The world feels like it is falling apart (nuclear threats from rogue nations, climate change and its terrors, growing inequities of income and resources, to name but a few.) Over half of our people have serious concerns about our leadership, specifically the President and the people who work for him.

What is the righteous person to do at such a time?

Whatever our political ties, we can remind our lawmakers that we are watching this process and taking notes. We can write, fax, or call them and say, “We are watching.” We can demand that they seek the facts. If the facts are in the president’s favor, then he need fear nothing. If the facts are not in his favor, then the Senate will have to take action.

We can, each of us, individually choose justice, truth, and peace:

  • We can conduct our disagreements in just and fair ways, arguing the issues, not the personalities.
  • We can seek truth, not the “post-truth” that privileges emotion and personal belief.
  • We can be relentless in seeking honesty in ourselves.
  • We can ask, “Where is the evidence?”
  • We can refrain from name-calling and mockery.
  • We can seek to connect with the person on the other side of the argument.
  • When it gets to be too much, we can withdraw and recharge rather than burn down the house.
  • We can be humble about the things we do not know, and honor the learning and expertise of others.
  • We can choose hope over despair. I may feel like all is lost, but I must behave as if there is still some hope for improvement.

Feeling Scared? Try This.

Image: “Be kind” written on a sidewalk in chalk. (reneebigelow / Pixabay)

Have you noticed how angry many people seem to be right now? Linda and I noticed it driving home from Oakland on a pleasant Sunday morning. People drove their cars as if the cars were weapons and it was war.

Whatever their politics, a lot of people feel the strain of uncertainty, and often they express their fear with anger. Politics is one big angry fight. Here in California we’re feeling climate change very strongly, and people are worried, some are downright frightened. Things we used to depend on seem undependable.

In such times, I keep myself calm with the first line of the serenity prayer:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Reinhold Niebuhr, American theologian

Much as I’d like to, by myself I can’t fix the climate. I can’t fix Pacific Gas & Electric. I can’t fix Washington. It may be that by voting, in cooperation with others, I may be able to help with those things, but it isn’t Election Day yet. So I have to put those things, for now, on the “accept” list. I don’t like them, but that’s reality.

What do I have the power to change? I can choose to be one tranquil person, one kind person, out there on the road and in the world generally. I can choose that each person with whom I interact leaves our conversation at least no more upset than they were when we began.

  • I can say “no” kindly, when I have to say no.
  • I can say “yes” with grace, when I can say yes.
  • I can maintain a calm and kind presence.
  • I can be a careful driver, neither in a hurry nor too slow.
  • I can focus on the Jewish value of kindness, chesed, and try to bring it to every interaction.

More thoughts about kindness:

The world rests upon three things: Torah, worship, and acts of kindness.

Pirkei Avot 1:2

Acts of kindness never die. They linger in the memory, giving life to other acts in return.

– Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, in From Optimism to Hope

The Torah begins and ends with striking examples of acts of loving kindness. God clothes Adam and Eve and buries Moses personally.

– Rabbi Ismar Schorsch, “Loving Kindness in the Torah“

My own behavior is one thing I can control. Kindness is what each of us can bring to the world in times of trouble.

Feeling stressed? Re-commit to Self-Care!

Image: A teddy bear with a stethoscope pressed to its chest. (Pexels.com)

Feeling stressed?

I’m re-committing to self-care today. In a very wigged-out world we have to do what we can to maintain ourselves. I thought I’d share my list with you, in case you’ve been feeling ragged and need some care.

A note: We all have our limits and our challenges. Your self care will have to be personalized for your situation. Don’t hurt yourself or anyone else!

By the way, all of these things are mitzvot. They fall under the headings of “caring for the body,” “preserving life,” prayer, and moderation in appetites of all kinds. The list is in no particular order, because everything on it is important.

  1. Take all medications as prescribed. I am usually good about this, but it bears repeating.
  2. Drink more water. A lot of things I like to drink (coffee, tea, etc) are diuretics, so they don’t help with dehydration as much as I like to think. Water, water, water!
  3. Pray/Meditate every day. Meditation is part of my prayer practice: there is prayer in which I say words, and meditation in which I listen for the “still, small voice.”
  4. Move the body. Sitting at the computer, sitting at the TV, sitting sitting sitting is bad for both body and soul. I need to move my body every day, joyfully if at all possible.
  5. Guard against sunburn. Wear a hat, wear sunscreen, carry an umbrella if need be.
  6. Listen to the body. Cultivating awareness of hunger and thirst, of moods, of the truth of what I’m feeling is very important for my health.
  7. Eat when I’m hungry and stop when I’ve had enough. Intuitive eating has already saved my life and my sanity more than once. I recommit to it.
  8. Get enough sleep! Sleep deprived people have more accidents and have lowered resistance to illness.
  9. Limit social media and the news. Both are a world of stress these days, and beyond the headlines there is little I truly need. It is always worth asking if an activity is contributing to my ability to improve the world, or limiting it.
  10. Talk things out in a safe place. Sometimes talking things out can relieve a lot of stress, provided I’m careful to choose a listener who is responsible and discreet: a therapist, my rabbi, or a trusted friend.
  11. Say “no” to gossip. Rechilut (gossip) covers everything from celebrity “news” to involving myself in drama that is not my business. All of it is bad for me and for the world.
  12. Hug my beloveds. Beloveds include my wife, our children and their spouses, our dogs, and my dear friends. “Hug” can mean an actual hug, a statement of love, or a decision to assume the best when I am tempted to be cross with someone.
  13. Give tzedakah. The giving of tzedakah (giving money to relieve the suffering of another) reminds me of the power I have to help others. When I am feeling stressed and powerless, it helps to recognize that I still have the ability to help another person.
  14. Perform acts of kindness to others. Just as tzedakah reminds me that I am not destitute, an act of lovingkindness (gemilut chasadim) forces me to recognize the ways in which I am able. I cannot walk up stairs, but I can still drive the car and give someone a ride to shul.
  15. Be gentle with myself. I will say nasty things to or about myself that I would never, ever say to a stranger, much less a family member. “Gentle” means gentle – it doesn’t mean making excuses! Sometimes I need a talking-to (“Ruth, get off the computer and go outside to play!”) but I commit to leaving out the cruel adjectives and names with which I am prone to hurt myself. Just like every other human being, I am b’tzelem Elohim, made in the image of the Holy One, so I have to treat myself with respect and mercy!

Do you have any other suggestions for ways to maintain our health and sanity in stressful times?

Don’t Assume: Taste the Wine

Image: My son Jim Scott. (Jimbo Scott Music: All rights reserved.)

Rabbi said: don’t look at the container but at that which is in it: there is a new container full of old wine, and an old [container] in which there is not even new [wine].

Pirkei Avot 4:20

This snippet from Pirkei Avot [Verses of the Fathers] is valuable because it offers an important lesson about choosing a teacher, and it applies as well to many situations. Don’t assume that because someone “looks the part” they are the best qualified for the job.

A story: A few years ago, I was just out of the hospital, still on oxygen, but I had promised weeks before to officiate at a funeral. My doc said, “Ok, but someone else has to drive you.” My son Jim (photo above) volunteered to help. He put on his best suit and tie, and I gave him a kippah to wear. At the funeral, everyone called him “Rabbi” and didn’t listen when he corrected them.

Jim looked like a rabbi out of Central Casting: dark suit, big beard, with a kindly manner. However, Jim isn’t even Jewish, much less a rabbi. (I converted when he was in his teens.) In real life, he’s a musician.

Our brains look for patterns, which is why stereotypes are so powerful. We might look at a surgeon and think, “Not old enough to be a doctor!” But if we look on her office wall, she’s highly credentialed – it was our assumption that a pretty young woman couldn’t be a surgeon.

As Rabbi Judah HaNasi says above, taste the wine! Ask questions. Don’t say, “Oh, honey, you look like my niece! You can’t be a surgeon.” Say, “Where did you do your residency?” In looking for a rabbi, or a doctor, or a friend, even, look for what they do and what they have done. Appearances are deceiving.

Who or What is Chazal?

Image: A page from a medieval Jerusalem Talmud manuscript. Found in the Cairo genizah. Public Domain.

“Chazal say…” a more advanced rabbinical student said to me, in answer to a question. I heard, “Chagall says…” and was very confused. I’d asked a question about halakhah (Jewish law) – why is he quoting a Jewish artist?

Chazal (Kha-ZAHL) is a collective noun meaning “the sages,” the ancient rabbis, from the “Men of the Great Assembly,” up through the closing and final redaction of the Babylonian Talmud, roughly from 500 BCE until about 650 CE. Think of it as a fancier way of saying “the ancient rabbis.”

Rabbis talk about those rabbis in terms of eras of rabbis:

First there was the age of the Men of the Great Assembly, which ran from the time of Ezra the Scribe up until about the time of the Maccabees. One of the last of that era was Shimon the Righteous:

שִׁמְעוֹן הַצַּדִּיק הָיָה מִשְּׁיָרֵי כְנֶסֶת הַגְּדוֹלָה. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, עַל שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הָעוֹלָם עוֹמֵד, עַל הַתּוֹרָה וְעַל הָעֲבוֹדָה וְעַל גְּמִילוּת חֲסָדִים:

Shimon the Righteous was one of the last of the men of the great assembly. He used to say: the world stands upon three things: the Torah, the Temple service, and the practice of acts of piety.

Pirkei Avot 1:2

Then there was the age of the Zugot, or Pairs of teachers, the last and most famous of whom were Hillel and Shammai. They all lived in Palestine, the land of Israel. They saw Rome come to power in the land, and were alive during the time of a fellow called Jesus.

Next came the Tannaim, which means “repeaters.” They were the rabbis who formulated the Mishnah. They taught during the difficult period just before and after the destruction of the Temple, from about 20 BCE – 200 CE.

The rabbis after the redaction of the Mishnah are called the Amoraim, which means “those who speak.” They are the rabbis of the Talmud. Some of them lived and taught in Babylonia, and some lived and taught in Palestine. They lived from 200 until 500 CE.

The last era of rabbis who are Chazal is a rather shadowy group called the Savoraim, the “reasoners.” They lived in Babylonia, and were responsible for putting the Talmud into its final form from 500-600 CE.

So now you know that Chazal is not Chagall! Had there been no Chazal, likely Chagall would have painted differently; most of his subject matter was deeply embedded in the Jewish tradition shaped by Chazal.

Mothers Day: A Mixed Message

Image: A bamboo candle and a small pink blossom (sonja_paetow / Pixabay)

To all those for whom Mother’s Day is a good day, may you get every bit of sweetness out of it! May you be present to those you love, may you connect with them in profound ways, may you make good memories you will keep for many years. May your mother and child reunion be joyful.

To all those for whom this holiday is painful because of a broken connection with your own mother or child, know that you are not alone. Do what you need to do to keep yourself safe: go to a movie, ignore the day, go for a run, do whatever will hold your soul together. It is hard, but know that the day will pass.

To all those who want children and do not have any, I know this day is especially painful. Seek out the friends that understand, if you are fortunate enough to have them. Do what you need to do to live with the pain. Write it out, exercise, anesthetize with a book or a movie, or pray: give God a piece of your mind. It’s OK to be angry; it isn’t fair.

To all those who have lost their mother, and who find this day excruciating in grief: I see you. May you be comforted among the mourners of this world, comforted in the arms of those who are still here to hug you. May your memories be at least as sweet as they are sad.

To mothers whose children have been taken from them, be it to death or to divorce or to some other awful loss, I see you. I know that this is a wound that cannot be healed; I know that there is a hole forever in your heart.

This is a day that is very important to some, and very difficult for others. If we have things we can be grateful for, may we be grateful. If we encounter someone who is in a very different mood than ours, may we be kind.

Shammai used to say: make your Torah study a fixed practice; speak little, but do much; and receive everyone with a pleasant face.

Avot 1:15

The Terrible Tale of Shimon ben Shatach

Image: Queen Salome Alexandra of Judea, the sister of Shimon ben Shatach, from Guillaume Rouillé‘s Promptuarii Iconum Insigniorum . Public Domain.

Shimon ben Shatach says, “Examine the witnesses thoroughly, and be careful with your words, lest from them they learn to lie.

Pirkei Avot 1:9

Shimon ben Shatach was a Torah scholar, a member of the Sanhedrin, and a rabbi during the first century BCE. He is most often remembered for the saying above.

There is a sad and terrible story connected with that saying. Shimon was a well-connected man. His sister was Queen Salome Alexandra, the wife of King Alexander Jannaeus, who ruled as Queen after her husband’s death in 76 BCE. While Shimon had to go into exile for a while, because the King did not like rabbis, for most of his life he enjoyed great power and respect despite the fact that he was not a wealthy man.

As co-chair of the Sanhedrin, Shimon was called upon to make many judgments, and he was known to be extremely strict. A young man came to him telling a story about eighty Jewish women who were practicing witchcraft in the city of Ashkelon. According to Rashi (on TJ Sanhedrin 6) Shimon went to Ashkelon and arranged a trick to convict the women he believed to be witches. Rashi does not explain to us why Shimon, the righteous judge, believed the witchcraft charge on the word of one person, contrary to the rules of the Jewish court. The convicted women were hanged to death. The rabbis discussing the case in TJ Sanhedrin 6 note that this was extremely unusual, and cite it as an exception to the rule without explaining it. (Modern day feminists might well argue that the “exception” had to do with the fact that the accused were women, and their alleged crime was “witchcraft,” which before modern times might well mean “women not adhering to male expectations.”)

The relatives of the dead women were furious, and plotted revenge against Shimon. They plotted together to fabricate evidence against Shimon’s son, accusing him of a capital crime, and Shimon’s son was convicted and sentenced to death. On the way to his execution, the young man wept and insisted on his innocence so eloquently that the witnesses recanted, confessed their lies and said that he was indeed innocent. Shimon wanted the sentence reversed, but his son said to him, “Father, if you want salvation to come through you, let the law take its course.” (“Simeon ben Shetah,” Jewish Encyclopedia, v. 14, p. 1563)

Why might the son have said such a thing? Under the rules of the court, witnesses who were discovered to be lying were subject to whatever punishment the accused would suffer. In this case, all the relatives of the women that Shimon had caused to be executed would themselves be executed if the judgment was reversed. Perhaps the son was saying, better to execute one man than to compound the execution of eighty women with the execution of all their relatives!

Most sources say that Shimon’s saying at the top of this page has to do with his belief that had the judges on his son’s case been more careful in cross-examination, they would have seen through the lie and not convicted his son.

Having seen Rashi’s account of the story, I wonder if the saying came out of Shimon’s regret for his own behavior as a judge in the case of the alleged witches. For one thing, the tradition says that a person may be put to death for a crime only when there are two witnesses – and yet there is no account of more than one witness accusing the women. Mishnah Makkot 1:10 says that a court that executes more than one person in a seven year period is a destructive court – yet Shimon had overseen the execution of eighty women!

While our tradition has been lenient with Shimon ben Shatach, very little about his story suggests to me that he was a righteous judge. However, in this saying, his most famous, I hear the rueful voice of a man who recognized that his bad behavior had led others to sin, a sin that bore terrible consequences for the son he loved.

Also, Shimon ben Shatach lived in the very early years of rabbinic Judaism. Later rabbis would become very careful about capital punishment, putting so many hurdles in front of it that it would be very difficult to convict anyone of a capital crime. Perhaps the story of Shimon ben Shatach had something to do with that.

One God, Many Relationships

Image: Digits create a visual pattern stretching out to infinity. (geralt/pixabay)

Anyone who studies Judaism for more than ten minutes will notice that Jews do not agree on much about God except that whatever God is, is One.

Some Jews think of God in very personal terms. Some Jews believe in God in only the most abstract terms. And some Jews do not believe in God at all. This puzzles outsiders, who think that we should at least agree on theology. How can Jews say we are one faith when we have multiple theologies?

The way I like to explain this is to point to one of our most important prayers. It is called the Tefilah [“the Prayer,”] or the Amidah [“Standing,” because we stand when we say it] or the Shmoneh Esray [“18” even though there are 19 parts to it.] It starts with a blessing the prayer books label Avot [“Fathers.”] Here is the egalitarian version:

Blessed are You, Eternal our God, God of our fathers and mothers, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, God of Sarah, God of Rebecca, God of Rachel, and God of Leah; the God, the Great, the Mighty and the Awesome, God of Gods, who bestows kindness, who creates everything, remembering the love of our fathers and mothers, and bringing redemption to their children’s children for the sake of the Divine Name. Sovereign, Deliverer, Helper and Shield, Blessed are You, Eternal One, Sarah’s Helper, and Abraham’s Shield. – my translation of the Hebrew version in Mishkan Tefilah, p76.

If you look closely, you’ll see that there’s a passage in there that seems awfully redundant:

God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, God of Sarah, God of Rebecca, God of Rachel, and God of Leah

Centuries ago, a rabbi asked, “Why do we say the prayer that way? Why not “God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob”? (He was too early to be interested in an egalitarian version.) 

The answer the other rabbis gave was that each of the patriarchs (and matriarchs) had their own relationships with and perceptions about God. They did not all experience God in the same way. Abraham had regular conversations with God. Sarah only met God once, and she got in trouble for laughing. The same with the other patriarchs and matriarchs; they each encountered God in different ways and degrees.

So it is with us modern-day Jews. Belief, for us, is a bit of a side-trip anyway. The essence of Torah is doing. As Hillel said when he was asked to teach Torah standing on one foot: 

That which is hateful to you do not do to others. This is the whole of the Torah, the rest is commentary. Go and study. – Shabbat 31a 

Meet Nittai of Arbel

Image: The ancient synagogue of Arbel. (Photo by Bukvoed, via wikimedia.)

Nittai of Arbel says: “Keep your distance from bad neighbors, do not ally yourself with the wicked and do not abandon hope when faced with calamity.” – Pirkei Avot 1:7

We do not know much about Nittai of Arbel, but we have his words, and we can decipher them by thinking about his times. In the second century BCE, the Second Temple was still standing, and the Hasmoneans (Maccabees) were on the throne. You’d think it would have been a great time for the Jews, but it was a time of treachery and bad behavior.

Nittai was a country boy who rose to be av beit din (vice president) of the Sanhedrin, working and teaching alongside the Nasi (president) Joshua ben Perachya. The two of them are remembered together among the Zugot, pairs of very early rabbinic teachers.

“Keep your distance from bad neighbors” and “do not ally yourself with the wicked” sound like bitter experience speaking.  They might be a reference to Nittai’s experience with John Hyrcanus. The ruler, a nephew of Judah Maccabee, had such a taste for Greek culture that the Pharisees (the early rabbis) questioned whether he had sufficient Jewish values to function as high priest. He was enraged at the criticism and Joshua ben Perachya had to flee for his life to Egypt.

Nittai would have been left alone to lead the early rabbis, who were in deep disfavor for questioning John Hyrcanus.

“Do not abandon hope when faced with calamity.” – It must have been frustrating to see a bad ruler on the throne, and to feel that neither God nor humanity were doing anything to stop him. John Hyrcanus did a number of things that eventually caused grave trouble: he forced the entire nation of Idumeans to convert to Judaism, and he invited an alliance with Rome, which had a tendency to swallow its allies. He was popular in his time, but much of what he did led to disaster.

“Do not abandon hope when faced with calamity.” – If hope dies, then all is truly lost. The ancient rabbi, Nittai of Arbel, is telling us that we must continue to seek what is good, and to do what is right. We cannot control history, but we can be faithful to the values of Torah.