Judaism and the Benefits of EFT (Episodic Future Thinking)

The Torah content for these two weeks has been sponsored by Judah and Naomi Dardik in loving memory of Rabbi Moskowitz zt''l, who taught his students to pursue truth by asking questions, who modeled love of Torah and learning, and who exemplified living a life of the mind.

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this article, and click here for an audio version.

Artwork: Witness the Future, by Anato Finnstark

Judaism and the Benefits of EFT (Episodic Future Thinking)

Note: This is a sequel to yesterday’s introductory article on EFT. If you haven’t read that, then this will be difficult to follow.

Soon after I began reading McGonigal’s book, I realized that as an Orthodox Jew, I pass by countless opportunities to engage in EFT as part of my day-to-day halachic observance. Every time I daven, I express my yearning for a future in which our nation has returned to Israel, the judges have been restored, our enemies have been destroyed, Jerusalem rebuilt, the Davidic monarchy reestablished, the shechinah returned to the Mikdash, and the world filled with peace. Every time I say mussaf, I ask Hashem to bring back our korbanos. So many of the pesukim I recite on a regular basis are about the Messianic era, the climax of world history. Shabbos, Pesach, Sukkos, Tishah b’Av, Purim, and Chanukah all have future-looking themes. Judaism certainly focuses on the past, but it is a remarkably future-oriented religion.

If you noticed, I said that “I pass by countless opportunities to engage in EFT as part of my day-to-day halachic observance.” I haven’t truly seized these opportunities by imagining these future scenarios in vivid detail, as EFT requires. I haven’t taken the time to really apply my full imagination to these phenomena, asking specific questions such as: Where exactly am I in this future? Who else is here? What is around me? What is true in this version of reality that isn’t true today? What do I really want in this future moment? How will I get it? How do I feel, now that I’m here?

What would happen if I did these things? Not only would the future become more real to me, but it would trigger a shift in my entire perspective which would lead to other psychological and intellectual perfections. McGonigal explains:

When you take a mental time trip ten years into the future, your brain starts to think with a different point of view. This isn’t a metaphor – it’s a literal fact. Scientists describe this as switching your imagination from first-person to third-person perspective … When you’re thinking in first person, you’re totally immersed in your own thoughts and feelings. When you’re thinking in third person, you escape your own ego and get a more objective and expansive experience.

(She goes on to support this assertion from the scientific literature, which I can’t summarize in a 1-page article; let me know if you’d like the citations.) Afterwards, she enumerates some of the benefits of this shift in perspective:

a major benefit of switching from first person to third person is that it’s a huge empathy booster. In scientific language, we “reduce our egocentric biases” and become “less ego-identified” – which means we get out of our own heads and can start to see things the way someone else might. We’re better able to consider that others might have different wants, needs, values, or ideas than we do. We also become more open-minded – and this is particularly important when it comes to thinking about how the future might be different, or how we ourselves might change. Studies show that when we zoom out in time and perspective, we become much more likely to take in new information that runs counter to our existing beliefs. This is a kind of mental superpower.

I can’t help but wonder whether Jews tap into these benefits on a minimal level simply by thinking about the future so often, even if we don’t practice EFT. Thinking about the ingathering of exiles three times a day must, on some level, chip away at the feeling of permanence we have about our current home. Yearning for the judges to “remove sorrow and sighing” must, on some level, give us hope that our emotional turmoil is not everlasting, and that there is hope for a cure. Verbalizing our conviction in a future of peace with our neighbors must, on some level, rewire our minds and emotions to believe in peace as a real possibility; this, in turn, will make us more likely to do something about peace in our lifetimes.

It seems to me that it would be a worthwhile investment of time and energy to practice EFT on the future scenarios we talk about in davening, whether through journaling, simulations (like this cool video of a modernized Chamber of Hewn Stones in the Third Mikdash), reading fiction, writing fiction, fleshing out these scenarios when we encounter them in our learning and teaching, or even by taking a few moments just to visualize what we’re saying when we daven.

___________________________________________________________________________________

If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you.

If you would like to sponsor a day's or a week's worth of content, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone.

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast", "The Stoic Jew" Podcast, "Rambam Bekius" Podcast, "Machshavah Lab" Podcast, "The Tefilah Podcast"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Bamidbar: The Terminal Bachelorhood of Nadav and Avihu 

The census of the Leviim (Levites) begins with Aharon and his sons: 

These are the names of the sons of Aharon: the firstborn was Nadav, and Avihu, Elazar, and Itamar. These were the names of the sons of Aharon, the anointed Kohanim, whom he inaugurated to minister. Nadav and Avihu died before Hashem when they offered a strange fire before Hashem in the Wilderness of Sinai, and they had no children; Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father. (Bamidbar 3:2-4). 

The question is: Why does the pasuk (verse) emphasize that Nadav and Avihu “had no children”? This information seems irrelevant in a census, the point of which is to count actual children rather than children-that-never-were. 

The pshat (straightforward) answer given by most commentators is that the first half of the pasuk preemptively explains the end of the pasuk: “Elazar and Itamar ministered during the lifetime of Aharon, their father.” If Nadav and Avihu had sons, these sons would have inherited the prestigious positions of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim [1] (high priests) from their fathers. Since they didn’t have sons, these positions passed on to their brothers, Elazar and Itamar. 

A different answer kind of answer is stated in the midrash: [2]

One who does not engage in [attempting to fulfill the mitzvah of] peru u’revu (“be fruitful and multiply”) is liable for death, as it is stated: “Nadav and Avihu died, and they did not have children” – [implying] that if they had children, they would not have died. 

This midrash is aggadic (non-legal) rather than halachic (legal), and is clearly not intended to be taken literally. According to halacha, one who does not engage in peru u’revu is not actually liable for death. Furthermore, Nadav and Avihu didn’t die because they neglected peru u’revu, but because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them” (Vayikra 10:2). This is clear from the fact that each and every time the deaths of Nadav and Avihu are mentioned in Tanach, this is reason given for their death. 

If so, the question is: What does this midrash mean when it says that if Nadav and Avihu had children, they wouldn’t have died? 

The Torah Temimah [3] offers the following explanation: 

This is to be understood in light of Taanis 4a, which says: “Yaakov Avinu didn’t die” because “his offspring are alive, and therefore, he is not considered to be dead,” and Bava Basra 116a which states: “Why does it say ‘lying down’ for David’s death but ‘death’ for Yoav? Because David left behind a son, like him, [whereas Yoav did not].” Here, too, the intent is that if [Nadav and Avihu] had sons, [these sons] would have served in their place … and if that had been the case, it wouldn’t have mentioned the deaths [of Nadav and Avihu because they would “live on” through their sons]. 

This explanation aims to connect the midrashic interpretation of our pasuk to the pshat explanation stated above. The “lives” of Nadav and Avihu were defined by their avodas Hashem (Divine service) in their position of adjunct Kohanim Gedolim. If they had sons, and their sons succeeded them in this role, then this “life” of theirs would not have ended. 

However, there is a harsher midrashic [4] take on the causal relationship between the childlessness of Nadav and Avihu and their fate: 

“and they had no children” – but if they did have children, they wouldn’t have died. Nadav and Avihu were aristocratic, [5] saying: “Our father is Kohen Gadol, our father’s brother is a king, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are the two chiefs of the Kehunah (priesthood). Which woman is good enough for us?” and they withheld themselves and didn’t desire to marry any woman to fulfill peru u’revu. That sin caused them to die by fire. 

An even more condemnatory version of this midrash [6] elaborates on their sin: 

R’ Levi said: [Nadav and Avihu] were exceedingly aristocratic. They would say, “Which woman is good enough for us?” There were many lonely [7] women sitting and waiting for them, but they said: “Our father’s brother is a king, our father is a Kohen Gadol, our mother’s brother is a prince, and we are chiefs of the Kehunah. Which woman is good enough for us?”

Rebbi Menachma [8] said in the name of Rebbi Yehoshua bar Nechemiah: regarding [Nadav and Avihu] David said: “Fire consumed His young men, and His maidens had no marriage celebrations” (Tehilim 78:63). Why were “His young men consumed by fire”? Because “His maidens had no marriage celebrations.” 

Another [proof can be brought] from: “To Moshe He said, ‘Go up to Hashem, you and Aharon, Nadav and Avihu” (Shemos 24:1). This teaches that Moshe and Aharon would walk ahead, Nadav and Avihu would walk behind them, and all of Israel were behind them, and they (i.e. Nadav and Avihu) would say, “When will these two old men die, so that we can exert our authority over the community in their place?” 

These alternative midrashic accounts shed quite a different light on the notion that Nadav and Avihu died because “they had no children.” According to these midrashim, it wasn’t the transgression of abstaining from peru u’revu per se which made them liable. Rather, it was the aristocratic bearing which gave rise to this transgression and warranted this punishment. 

The problem is that these midrashim make Nadav and Avihu out to seem like they had some real serious problems! Are we really to believe that these sons of Aharon ha’Kohen took such petty pride in their own status and in the status of their family members? Did they really think that no woman was good enough for them, knowing full well that Moshe and Aharon each got married, despite their greatness? Most astounding of all, are we really supposed to believe that Nadav and Avihu eagerly awaited the deaths of their beloved father and their illustrious uncle so that they could seize power to lord over the community? It is quite difficult to accept this portrait of Nadav and Avihu at face value. Remember that these are the individuals whom Hashem referred to as, “My close ones” (Vayikra 10:3) [9], and who were second only to Moshe and Aharon in their proximity to the divine glory at Sinai (see Shemos 24:1,9). 

In my view, the answer is: no, Nadav and Avihu were not the pompous megalomaniacs depicted in these midrashim. Rather, I believe this is a case in which the midrashim employ the device of exaggeration in order to make a point, as Chazal [10] said: “The Torah spoke in an exaggerated language, the Prophets spoke in an exaggerated language, and the Sages spoke in an exaggerated language.” 

This stylistic device of magnifying the imperfections of tzadikim is frequently employed by the pesukim themselves in order to make it easier for us to learn from their flaws, which would otherwise be too subtle for us to appreciate. For example, the pesukim say: “Reuven went and slept with Bilhah, his father’s concubine” (Bereishis 35:22), “Samson went down to Timnath, and in Timnath he saw a woman of the daughters of the Philistines [and married her]” (Shoftim 14:1), “Shlomo built an alatar for Chemosh, the abomination of Moav, on the Mount facing Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the Children of Amon” (I Melachim 11:7). According to the traditional interpretations, none of these tzadikim committed the serious transgressions described in the pesukim. All of these narratives are exaggerations of transgressions or flaws which were much less severe, and which are blown out of proportion for rhetorical and didactic effect. And if the pesukim themselves are known to do that, then certainly the aggadic midrashim can be expected to follow suit. 

I believe that the authors of these midrashim would acknowledge that Nadav and Avihu died because they “offered before Hashem a strange fire that He had not commanded them,” as the pesukim explicitly state. Having acknowledged that, the authors of these midrashim are theorizing about the personal shortcoming which led to this severe transgression. Based on the information provided in the pesukim, the authors of these midrashim maintain that Nadav and Avihu had an underlying sense of aristocratic pride in their roles as adjunct Kohanim Gedolim, which gave them the unconscious feeling of superiority, and derived incidental gratification from the power they held. In other words, these were not open faults in their character. If they were, the Torah would have been more explicit in divulging such information which would be critical in order to understand why they died. It is quite possible that this deep-seated streak of aristocratic pride didn’t manifest itself outwardly at all. 

According to these midrashim, it was this underlying feeling of pride which led Nadav and Avihu to “make a halachic decision in the presence of Moshe, their teacher” [11] by offering the “strange fire” without being commanded. It was this unconscious aristocratic mentality that caused them to defer marriage and procreation on the pretext of not finding suitable wives. It was this idle musing about who might take over as the nation’s spiritual leaders after Moshe and Aharon died which arose in their imagination when they stood on the mountain and “saw the God of Israel” (Shemos 24:10) and which nearly prompted divine retribution, as it is stated: “against the great men of Israel He did not stretch out His hand” (Shemos 24:11). 

How are we to understand their punishment? According to the pshat, they died by fire because they brought a “strange fire,” midah kneged midah (measure for measure). But perhaps according to these midrashim one can see a different level of midah kneged midah which corresponded to their underlying flaw. They unconsciously sought to supplant Moshe and Aharon in order to claim a permanent place in the eternal pantheon of the Israelite hierarchy, and they believed they were “too good” to perpetuate the human race. As a punishment, their lives were prematurely cut short, and because of their abstention from peru u’revu, they left no offspring through whom they could “live forever” in the sense that Yaakov and David “live forever” through their progeny. 

There are two takeaway lessons for us: one in methodology and the other in human perfection. The lesson in methodology is that the authors of midrashim will expound on any textual clue, no matter how small, if there is some lesson that can be extrapolated from it, and when it looks like they’re making a mountain out of a molehill, they’re really just embellishing the presentation of their theory in order to make a subtle concept into a blatant part of the narrative. 

The lesson in human perfection is that a misplaced sense of pride is an insidious thing which can plague even the greatest of men, often on account of their genuine greatness. Like a small crack in a large dam, this pride can grow and spread imperceptibly until it’s too late, and the entire edifice comes crumbling down. 

[1] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 3:4, who writes that Nadav and Avihu were anomalous among Kohanim in that they functioned in the capacity of Kohen Gadol similar to their father, whereas in all subsequent generations there would only be one Kohen Gadol at a time. I’m calling this the position of “adjunct Kohen Gadol.” According to this explanation, Elazar and Itamar inherited this unique designation of Kohen Gadol upon the deaths of their brothers, Nadav and Avihu. 

[2] This midrash appears in a number of different texts with variations between them. Perhaps the most authentic version is the one that appears in Talmud Bavli: Yevamos 64a. I’ve chosen to use the version of that midrash as cited by the Torah Temimah, both because it is phrased in a more standalone manner, and because I subsequently reference the Torah Temimah’s commentary later. 

[3] Ha’Rav Baruch ha’Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah on Bamidbar 3:4 footnote 1 

[4] Midrash Aggadah (Buber), Sefer Bamidbar: Bamidbar 3 

[5] The Hebrew term here is שחוצים, which Jastrow translates as: aristocratic, proud, vainglorious, pompous. 

[6] Midrash Tanchuma (Warsaw) Sefer Vayikra: Acharei Mos 6 

[7] עגונות, which can’t be understood in the usual halachic sense here – unless I’m missing something. The term literally means “deserted,” and since we’re talking about unmarried women here, I’ve translated it as “lonely.” 

[8] Not a typo; just an unusual name: רבי מְנַחְמָה 

[9] According to Rashi, at least. 

[10] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Tamid 29a 

[11] Talmud Bavli: Maseches Eruvin 63a

Mishlei 16:18 - Two Types of Arrogance

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Tragic Slip, by Christopher Moeller
(color-adjusted using Google Photos)

Mishlei 16:18 - Two Types of Arrogance

משלי טז:יח

לִפְנֵי שֶׁבֶר גָּאוֹן וְלִפְנֵי כִשָּׁלוֹן גֹּבַהּ רוּחַ:

Mishlei 16:18

Arrogance comes before breaking, and haughtiness comes before stumbling.

The questions I had this time around are very straightforward:

1. What is the difference between gaon (arrogance) and govah ruach (haughtiness)? It's possible that the two halves of the pasuk are saying the same thing in different words, but the next question makes that assumption unlikely.
2. What is the difference between shever (breaking) and kishalon (stumbling)? These two terms seem quite different, but what do they mean? "Breaking" seems worse than merely "stumbling," but in what sense?
3. How does gaon cause "breaking," and govah ruach cause "stumbling"? The implication is that gaon leads to "breaking" specifically, as opposed to "stumbling," whereas govah ruach leads specifically to "stumbling" but not "breaking."

[Time to think! Read on when ready.]

Here is my four-sentence summary of the main idea. Because I am not 100% clear about my answer to Question #1, I've erred on the side of wordiness:

Govah ruach (“haughty spirit”) is the opposite of “shfal ruach” (“lowly spirit”), and refers to arrogance as a character disposition (i.e. an accidental quality of the personality) – a psychological tendency to overestimate one’s own abilities and relative superiority; like other dispositions, the degree of govah ruach may fluctuate based on external circumstances or internal moods.

Gaon (“arrogance”) is the opposite of “anavah” (“humility”) and refers to arrogance as a fundamental temperament (i.e. an essential quality of the personality) – a view of oneself as intrinsically superior and inherently deserving of success; the quality of gaon is so deeply rooted in the individual’s character that it tends to remain at a constant heightened level, which only grows more severe with each accomplishment.

Govah ruach will result in “stumbling” – bad decisions from which the individual can recover; since govah ruach is merely an inclination towards overestimation of the self, it is possible (albeit unlikely) for the individual to experience a “wake-up call” after suffering the consequences of his misstep, provided he recognizes his hubris as the cause.

In contrast, gaon will ultimately lead to “breaking” – total destruction; the baal gaon’s unshakable conviction that he is destined for greatness will render him blind and deaf to anything which might lead him to question this fundamental egocentric premise, and he will continue to march forward in his megalomaniacal pursuits until he is utterly destroyed by the harsh reality which refuses to show him the favoritism to which he feels entitled.

The question I haven't answered is how to determine whether a particular individual suffers from gaon or merely govah ruach. In certain cases it seems pretty clear that a person suffers from a terminal case of gaon, but it other cases it will take a lot of data (i.e. instances of arrogant decisions and their aftermath) to be able to make this determination with any degree of certainty - and even then, I'm not sure whether it's possible to know for sure. 

A Note on Methodology: Reviewing Without Reviewing

Readers of this blog might have seen this post and thought to themselves, "Wait a minute - didn't he already write a post about this pasuk?" Yes, I did! I called it Mishlei 16:18 - Pride Goeth Before the Fall, published in June 2017.

I learn with my Mishlei rebbi almost every Friday. A few years ago we started Mishlei Chapter 12, and have continued pasuk by pasuk. This past Friday we arrived at Mishlei 16:18. If I know I've written about a pasuk before or learned or taught it within the past few years, I'll usually remember the idea I came up with. This time, however, I couldn't remember. This afforded me the valuable opportunity to relearn it from scratch, and possibly arrive at a different idea.

After I learned through this pasuk again with my Mishlei rebbi, I went back and reread my old post. I was delighted by the fact that not only did we come up with a different idea this time, but the questions we asked were quite different. Last time I was most bothered by the phrasing and ordering of the clauses in the pasuk, but that question didn't even occur to me this time around. This time my mind seized upon the differences between the first and second half, and viewed that as the primary question, whereas last time I was more bothered by the question of "Duh! This idea seems obvious!"

I am fortunate to have had a Mishlei rebbi who has a terrible memory, who almost never recalls ideas and explanations we've come up with in the past. Consequently, no matter how many times we've learned a pasuk in the past, we always learn it from scratch with him. This has shown me how valuable it is to approach the material with fresh eyes and a fresh mind. Sometimes this takes me to the same conclusions as before, but most often, it leads to new discoveries and deeper insights that I missed the first time around. This pasuk was a nice reminder of that, especially since I have a written record of my thought process the last time around!

Mishlei 12:9 - Investing in Kavod

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Mishlei 12:9 - Investing in Kavod

משלי יב:ט

טוֹב נִקְלֶה וְעֶבֶד לוֹ מִמִּתְכַּבֵּד וַחֲסַר לָחֶם:

Mishlei 12:9

Better to be a degraded laborer than to maintain your honor and lack bread. 

[Note: the phrase "eved lo" is ambiguous and grammatically awkward; my translation as "degraded laborer" follows the approach of Rabbeinu Yonah and Ralbag.]

The major questions on this pasuk are:

(1) "Better" in what sense? This is the first question one should ask on any pasuk which says "X is better than Y." By what metric or value are we measuring "better"?

(2) "Degraded" in what sense? There are many forms of degradation, and "degraded laborer" is rather vague.

(3) What does it mean by "one who maintains his honor"? The reflexive "miskabed" implies that this person is actively the cause of his own kavod. What does this mean?

(4) Why would we think otherwise? In other words, what decision-making mistake does this pasuk come to remove, and how does it do so? Specifically, how can this person insist on "maintaining his honor" if he "lacks bread"? Isn't this an obviously bad prioritization?

[You know what time it is: thinking time! Stop here to think about the pasuk and the questions on your own. When you're ready, read on.]

Here's my four-sentence summary of the main idea:

Everyone seeks kavod (honor or dignity) and tries to avoid degradation. However, the chacham (wise man) recognizes that it may be necessary to forego kavod in the short run and temporarily endure degradation if this will ultimately lead to a long-term kavod which is stable; for example, he will be willing to do menial labor if this is necessary for supporting himself and his family, knowing that this will allow him to maintain his dignity in the long run. The fool, on the other hand, will strive to artificially maintain or increase his kavod in the short term, even if this will result in a much greater degradation in the long run; for example, he will refuse to do jobs which he considers to be "beneath him" in a vain attempt to preserve his kavod, not thinking about how much kavod he will ultimately lose when he hits rock bottom in his poverty. There are at least three factors which contribute to the fool’s mistake: (1) viewing kavod as a real and inherent attribute of himself rather than a relational circumstance which is subject to change; (2) his unwillingness to face the fact that his kavod might not last, since this realization would interfere with his ability to enjoy his kavod; and (3) the fool's natural tendency to be preoccupied with immediate pleasure rather than long-term consequences.

Like much of Mishlei's content, this idea is simple - and yet, people make this mistake all the time. There are countless stories of highly qualified professionals who remain "unemployed" for years, telling themselves that "they can't find work," when in actuality, they would be better off temporarily taking "an inferior job" to make ends meet until they can find a better job which is more suited to their qualifications or aspirations. There are Jewish families who go on expensive vacations and throw lavish bar mitzvahs and weddings, and then apply for tuition assistance for their kids' private school education because they "can't afford full tuition." There are people who are deep in credit card debt, but continue to spend money they don't have in order to "maintain appearances." There are people who lack a skill or area of knowledge but fake it for the kavod, until eventually their ignorance is exposed and they suffer a greater level of shame than they would have if they admitted their shortcomings from the start.

So while our pasuk's idea is simple, it is also necessary. The mind can recognize the truth of an idea, but that doesn't mean that it's real to the emotions. Mishlei's approach to this dilemma is to go over these simple ideas again, and again, and again - each time from a slightly different angle, in order to have a slightly different impact on the emotions. Eventually, over time, these ideas will become real to the emotions, and will begin to affect one's decision-making.

This pasuk is also a great example of Mishlei's "should-less" approach to mussar (character development). Shlomo ha'Melech doesn't say, "You shouldn't care about kavod!" nor does he say, "You should get a job in order to sustain your family instead of your dignity!" He knows that this kind of mussar is useless. Instead, he says: "Look - you know and I know that you want kavod and don't want degradation. That's totally fine. I'm not going to try to dissuade you from seeking kavod or avoiding degradation. But I'll warn you: if you try to maintain your kavod in the short run by refusing to do work which you deem to be 'beneath you,' you are ultimately going to suffer a much bigger loss of kavod than you might realize, and that degradation will make you suffer big time. Instead, I advise you to temporarily take a lower job until you can get back onto your feet and earn enough money to be restored to the social status that you desire. Yes, this will involve a sacrifice of kavod in the short-run, but think of it as an investment: it is better for you to invest in kavod now for the sake of a long-term stable 'kavod profit' than to splurge on short-term kavod at the cost of major degradation." 

The problem with so much the mussar that's out there today is that it aims to change character by trying to alter our desires directly. Mishlei's approach is indirect and non-confrontational. It works with the emotions instead of against them. It takes the desires we have and shows us how to satisfy them using chochmah, and shows us that if we don't use chochmah, we'll get the opposite of what we desire. Over time, if we continue to apply this type of mussar to our everyday decision-making, our desires will naturally evolve without us ever trying to force the change. 

Mishlei 17:13 - Mishleic Karma

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Mishlei 17:13 - Mishleic Karma

משלי יז:יג

מֵשִׁיב רָעָה תַּחַת טוֹבָה, לֹא תָמוּשׁ רָעָה מִבֵּיתוֹ:

Mishlei 17:13

If one repays good with bad, badness will not depart from his house. 

The questions on this pasuk are:

(1) How does this work? Our pasuk appears to be describing a karma-like effect. The problem is that karma - in the sense of "a mystical force of retribution" - isn't real. Since Mishlei deals with consequences within the laws of nature, how can we understand the phenomenon in our pasuk?

(2) What "badness" will not depart from his house? The term "badness" (raah) is as vague as can be. Is this the same type of "badness" as the "bad" in the first half of the pasuk? If not, what is it? And why was Shlomo ha'Melech so vague? 

(3) What does it mean when it says that the badness "will not depart from his house"? Why focus on the house instead of the person himself? And what are the implications of "will not depart"? This would seem to indicate that the "badness" was always there, and could have departed were it not for this guy's repaying of good with bad.

[Time to think! Read on when ready.]

Here is my four-sentence summary (with an extremely liberal definition of "sentence") of the main idea of this pasuk:

It is human nature to expect that the beneficiaries of good actions will (or should) repay these actions with good; consequently, the person who repays good with bad will be universally abhorred. Such an individual is exceedingly egotistical in that he believes he is entitled to be the recipient of good from others, but at the same time, feels that he doesn’t owe them anything; not only that, but he feels free to treat them however he pleases, as though they are nothing but his pawns who exist only to serve him. As a direct consequence of this insensitive, egocentric way of relating to others, the “house” (i.e. system) of such an individual will be continually “plagued by badness” in four ways: (1) the members of his household/system will resent him, and that resentment will yield harmful consequences; (2) they will not be willing to do good for him, and he will miss out on those benefits; (3) his sense of entitlement will cause him to be remiss in his responsibilities towards the members of his household/system; this will harm the household/system as a whole, and he – as a part of that household/system – will suffer as a consequence; (4) his egotism will generate excessive and unrealistic expectations of how others should relate to him, and these unfulfilled expectations will breed perpetual frustration, dissatisfaction, and anger. Although there is no such thing as actual Karma, the victim of this type of evil recompense can take solace in his knowledge of “Mishleic karma” and know with certainty that the perpetrator will suffer greatly as a “punishment” for the way he treats others. 

This is an example of what I call a "list-pasuk." Many pesukim in Mishlei state a specific consequence for a specific behavior. In contrast, "list-pesukim" simply identify the behavior of the fool/rasha and leave it to the reader to figure out the consequences, of which there are many. "List-pesukim," such as our pasuk, will typically make general reference to the consequences in vague or categorical terms, so as not to lead the reader to focus on a narrow set of consequences.

The phenomenon of "list-pesukim" exemplifies one of the many differences between Shlomo ha'Melech's proverbs and (for lack of a better term) "English proverbs." English proverbs are essentially spoon-fed truths which are instantly understandable: "the early bird catches the worm," "no pain no gain," "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." In contrast, the vast majority of Shlomo ha'Melech's proverbs are not readily understandable; their ideas can only be accessed after thought and analysis.

I believe that the main reason for this is because Shlomo ha'Melech is trying to do more than just deliver content. His goal is for his students to train their minds and acquire a different way of thinking about life. By stating these ideas in cryptic language, he forces the student to explore the subject matter of each pasuk in-depth and try out different ways of learning. In the end, the students gains more from the analysis of the pasuk than a single idea.

"List-pesukim" fit into this paradigm because there isn't even a specific idea that he's conveying. Instead, these pesukim are like Shlomo pointing to a certain behavior and saying, "Hey - check that guy out. What do you think is going to happen to him? What mistake(s) is he making?" The "lesson" of the pasuk ultimately comes from the student's own analysis, with zero spoon-feeding. 

Mishlei 16:18 - Pride Goeth Before the Fall

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.

Artwork: Tragic Arrogance, by Winona Nelson

Mishlei 16:18 - Pride Goeth Before the Fall

I am 99% certain that the English proverb "pride goeth before the fall" comes from a pasuk in Mishlei. In this post we will examine the actual pasuk, and I will present an idea from one of my students (with my own embellishments).

משלי טז:יח

לִפְנֵי שֶׁבֶר גָּאוֹן וְלִפְנֵי כִשָּׁלוֹן גֹּבַהּ רוּחַ:

Mishlei 16:18

Arrogance comes before breaking, and haughtiness comes before stumbling.

The questions here are pretty straightforward: 

1. What is the pasuk teaching us about arrogance? It can't just be saying that arrogant people make mistakes; that's too simple of an idea for Mishlei. 
2. Why does the pasuk seemingly repeat itself with only slight changes in the wording? Specifically, what is the differences between "gaon" ("arrogance") and "govah ruach" ("haughtiness"), and between "shever" (breaking) and kishalon ("stumbling")? Note: Some meforshim, like Metzudas David and Ralbag, might answer questions like this by saying: "Shlomo just repeated himself using different words." But my approach to Mishlei is to try finding a reason for the repetition, and only make recourse to the "same idea, different words" answer as a last-ditch resort.
3. Why are the two halves of the pasuk arranged in this order? "Breaking" seems like a stronger term than "stumbling." To place this term first is odd, from a rhetorical standpoint. For example, if you want to warn someone, you don't say, "You might DIE or even TRIP!" but rather "You might TRIP or even DIE!"

[If you're playing along at home, feel free to think at this point before reading on.]

As is my standard practice, I will now summarize the main idea in four (long) sentences:

The baal gaivah (egotistical person) is bound to fail, due to his overestimation of his own greatness (gaon) and his egocentric view of his place in reality (govah ruach); our pasuk underscores the inevitability of his fate by saying: “A comes before B, and C comes before D” – as if to say that this is a natural and unavoidable sequence of events. 

The downfall of the baal gaivah is twofold: (1) he will experience the harmful consequences of his poor decision-making (“stumbling”), and (2) he will suffer a severe emotional blow to his ego when he is forced to confront the fact that he is not as great as he would like to believe (“breaking”); since this blow to his ego will cause him more pain than the actual consequences of his decisions, the pasuk puts “breaking” before “stumbling.” 

This pasuk was not written for the baal gaivah, since he is unlikely to take it to heart; moreover, even if the baal gaivah experiences these effects, he is likely to continue in his arrogant and haughty ways, since he will not be willing to face the fact that he has a flaw which needs to be corrected. 

This pasuk was intended for those on the Mishleic spectrum who do not suffer from gaivah as a dominant character trait, but who - like all human beings - are prone to bouts of gaivah in varying degrees from time to time; this pasuk will help these individuals to vigilantly guard themselves against the insidious and disastrous effects of arrogance and haughtiness. 

If this explanation is correct, then it stands as a good example of how nearly all the subtlety of Shlomo ha'Melech's wisdom is lost when his words are crudely translated into English and condensed into a non-Jewish-style proverb. 

Truman: On What Ruins a President

I was going to wait until January 20th to post this, but considering all of the unrest about Trump's election, I thought it might be beneficial to post it now.

Trump (#45) and Truman (#33) - sharing the first four letters of their surnames, and not much else

Truman: On What Ruins a President

One of the best biographies I have ever read is Merle Miller's Plain Speaking: An Oral Biography of Harry S. Truman (1974). There are many memorable (and quotable) passages in this book, but when I think about the upcoming inauguration of our 45th U.S. president, two passages come to mind. The first is about the the danger of becoming a President. Harry Truman said:

"You see the thing you have to remember. When you get to be President, there are all those things, the honors, the twenty-one-gun salutes, all those things, you have to remember it isn't for you. It's for the Presidency, and you've got to keep yourself separate from that in your mind ... If you can't keep the two separate, yourself and the Presidency, you're in all kinds of trouble." 

[Miller said to Truman:] Jonathan Daniels says in one of his books that - I hope you'll forgive me - he was very upset when he was a boy, and he and a friend were passing the White House, and his friend reminded him that the President - I believe it was Coolidge at the time - the President had to go to the bathroom just like everybody else.  

"That's right. We've had a few Presidents who've not remembered a thing like that, and the minute it happens, you can't possibly do the job" (pp.203)

The second passage is about what ruins a man:

[Truman] said, "Do you want to know what I think causes the ruination of a lot of men?" 

I said that I most certainly did. The question is one that has occurred to me now and again. 

"Well," Mr. Truman said, "I've made a great, long study of these things, as you can see up there if you've looked." 

He pointed to the bookshelves, which, as I've said, mostly contained biographies and histories. 

"Three things ruin a man if you want to know what I believe. One's power, one's money, and one's women. 

"If a man can accept a situation in a place of power with the thought that it's only temporary, he comes out all right. But when he thinks that he is the cause of the power, that can be his ruination. 

"And when a man has too much money too soon, that has the same effect on him. He just never gets to understanding that getting enough money to eat and getting a roof over his head is the thing that throughout history most people have spent their lives trying to do and haven't succeeded. ... If you've got too much money too soon, it ruins you by setting you too far apart from most of the human race. 

"And a man who is not loyal to his family, to his wife and his mother and his sisters can be ruined if he has a complex in that direction. If he has the right woman as a partner, he never has any trouble. But if he has the wrong one or if he's mixed up with a bunch of whores, why, then he's in a hell of a fix. And I can name them to you, the ones that got mixed up in that way. But we won't do it now. 

"Those three things, though, in my opinion, power, money, and women in that order, are what most often contribute to the ruination of a man. You read your history and you'll find out" (pp.342-343).

If we accept Truman's theory about what ruins a man, then we can be quite certain that Trump will be ruined. We know he has problems when it comes to women: his fidelity to his wives, his treatment of his daughter, and most of all, the way he treats and views women in general. We know he has problems with money: he definitely "got too much money too soon," and it is fair to say that he lives a life "too far apart from most of the human race." And Trump's desire for power, while maybe not as great as Hillary Clinton's, is evident in everything he does.

Suffice it to say, this does not bode well. 

The real question to my mind is whether Trump will be able to keep himself and the presidency separate. I am inclined to think not. The only source of hope I have is that Trump has consistently surprised everyone, and has defied almost all predictions. I hope this will be the case here as well.

Let us pray that our new President can keep himself separate from the Presidency, and that his power, money, and his way of relating to women do not lead to his ruination and the ruination of our country.

Mishlei 18:23 - The Supplications of the Poor and the Brazenness of the Rich

משלי יח:כג

תַּחֲנוּנִים יְדַבֶּר רָשׁ וְעָשִׁיר יַעֲנֶה עַזּוֹת:

Mishlei 18:23
A poor man speaks [with] supplications, and a rich man responds with brazenness.

Major Questions / Difficulties

1. Why does the first half of the pasuk have to tell us that a poor man will speak with supplication? Isn't this obvious? What is the chidush (new insight)?
2. What, exactly, does the pasuk mean by "responds with brazenness"? 
3. Why does the rich man respond with brazenness? 
4. What scenario is the pasuk talking about? Mishlei usually compares two individuals' decisions in the same decision-making scenario. If that is the case here, what is that scenario? Or is this pasuk describing an interaction between the poor man and the rich man - as it would seem from the use of the word "responds"?
5. Which consequences/benefits is Mishlei pointing out here? Remember that Mishlei is a book about how to make good decisions and avoid bad ones. This pasuk doesn't spell out the ramifications of the decisions being made here. 
6. To whom is this pasuk addressed? Is it giving advice to the poor man about how to speak to the rich man? Is the pasuk rebuking the rich man for how he treats the poor? 
7. What is the subject of this pasuk?

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea (According to Rabbeinu Yonah)

When performing a cost/benefit analysis of wealth and poverty, it is easy to focus exclusively on the financial dimension and lose sight of the fact that wealth and poverty have a detrimental effect on a person's middos (character traits) as well. Poverty often spawns detrimental middos, such as subservience (since he is dependent on them for his livelihood), fear of people (insofar as he feels that his fate is in their hands), flattery (since he constantly needs to beg for money), and other degenerate qualities. Likewise, the rich man becomes brazen, arrogant, harsh in his speech, wise in his own eyes, stubborn, and all of the other negative traits which arise from an inflated ego. For this reason, the wise man will pray: "give me neither poverty nor wealth, but provide me with my daily allotment of bread" (Mishlei 30:8) - not only because this makes sense in its own right, but because he is concerned about the harmful ethical effects of wealth and poverty on his character.  

Four Sentence Summary of the Main Idea (According to Us)

A poor man thinks that the best way to ask a rich man for money is to supplicate, in order to awaken the rich man’s mercy and arouse his pity. This is a mistake which will likely backfire: pity stems from identification with the other person, and if the poor man makes himself seem too wretched and needy, the rich man will be repelled, for it he will find it too painful, frightening, and abhorrent to see himself in the poor man’s shoes, and all hope of empathy will be lost. On the other hand, if the poor man is too assertive and demanding, he is sure to tread on the rich man’s ego, and once that happens, there is no way that the rich man will want to help him. The key is to strike a perfect balance: to cater to the rich man’s ego by making him feel like a proud and powerful benefactor, while being careful not to make himself seem too pitiful or too bold – both of which would pose a threat to the rich man’s ego.

Ego as Thermometer

Here's another old post from 2007 which happens to be relevant to the season we're in.

"It is sooooo HOT in here!" "It is FREEZING in here!"

Whenever I hear people say things like this, I want to ask: What do you mean by "it"?

When a person says, "It's hot" or "It's cold," what the person really means is "I am hot" or "I am cold." Such a person is really making a statement about the temperature relative to himself or herself, but couching that statement in objective terms. What is actually a subjective feeling is being spoken about as though it were an objective quality of the room, in the same way one might say, "This room is dark" or "This room is empty." In truth, it is more precise to say, "I feel hot" or "I feel cold." 

"So what?" you might ask, "People speak imprecisely all of the time. Everyone knows what they really mean."

Be that as it may, I have seen many people get into arguments over the temperature in a room. One guy will complain, "It's freezing in here, let's turn on the heat!" and the other guy will respond, "What do you mean? It's stuffy in here! You're crazy!" Each one of these individuals is making the same error: treating a personal feeling as an objective reality.

As long as each disputant treats his position as an objective statement, there is no room for resolution. If I say, "The earth is flat" and you say "The earth is round," only one of us can be correct. We can examine the properties of the common object of discussion and come to an agreement. But when one person say, "It's cold" and the other person says, "It's warm," they won't get anywhere because they are talking about different "it"s. If both of them would recognize that they are really just making statements about themselves, they would go about settling their quarrel differently. 

I react similarly when I hear students say, "That teacher is boring!" What the student really means is, "I am bored by that teacher" or even "Many students are bored by that teacher." "Boring" is not an objective quality. It is a statement about one's subjective experience. To treat "boring" as an inherent property of something or someone is to make oneself the measure of all things.

In a nutshell, the mistake being made in both of these cases is confusing matters of taste with matters of truth. The sharp division between these two realms should be recognized, always. The more one indulges in this bad habit of mind - even in trivial matters - the more one runs the risk of making this type of error where it counts.

The root of the aforementioned mistake is our egocentricity. So just remember: next time you comment on the temperature, don't use your ego thermometer.