Chicago Chesed Fund

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Showing posts with label Middos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Middos. Show all posts

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Tazria, Vayikra 13:5 and 13:55. Tzara’as, Gore Vidal, the Gerrer Rebbe and the Ben Ish Chai.

This parsha discusses the symptoms of Tzara’as, a disease that Chazal say is of purely spiritual origin. The Gemara in Eirachin 16a tells us that there are seven aveiros which can cause tza'aras. (Loshon horo, shfichas domim, shvu’as shov, gilui aroyos, gasus ru’ach, gezel, and tzoras ayin.) The common denominator of these character flaws is expressed in the word “Tzara’as.” They all represent Tzarus Ha’ayin– a narrowing of the eye. We are all familiar with this syndrome; a tzar ayin is a person who begrudges the success and happiness of others, who sees only flaws in the people he deals with. This is a person who denies the truth of the bracha we make in the morning, “she’asa li kol tzarki.” He feels that he unfairly is missing what is due him, and he resents the success of others.

The state of Tzara’as, and its healing, can be declared only by a Kohen. The Kli Chemda explains that the trait of Tzar Ayin/Tzara’as expresses itself in three characteristics: Lashon Horoh, gassus Ru’ach, and chemdas mamon, or, Envy, Pride and Greed. Aharon Hakohen represented the opposite of those three bad middos; he was a rodef shalom, an anav, and as far as chemdas momon, since Kohanim didn’t get a share of the Land of Israel, they lacked the capitol base to build a financial empire. They lived Mishulchan Gavo’ah, so they had the middah of histapkus, serene contentment.

The only way to cure Tzara’as is to uproot the selfishness that caused it; to slay the green-eyed monster.

An excellent example of this problem was once expressed by that famous man of letters of our time, Gore Vidal. Mr. Vidal is famously talented and sophisticated, and also a queer and an anti-semite. He once said, “It is not enough to succeed; others must fail.” To make this even clearer, he once said “Whenever a friend succeeds, a little something in me dies.“ Gore Vidal personifies this spiritual disease; He is the Poster Boy for Tzara’as.

(Rabbi David Zupnik Zatzal once told me that he and Rav Wolbe once went to visit R Chatzkel before R Chatzkel became mashgiach in Mir, and he told them pshat in Kin’as sofrim tarbeh chochmo. Koshereh kinoh is when you want to know more than the other so that you will be greater than he is. Traifeh kinoh is when you want the other to know less than you, so that you will be greater than he is.)

The truth is, it’s easy to sit here and think that it’s good to be a tov ayin, it’s bad to be a tzar ayin, “I would never be that small minded and jealous to begrudge someone his success.” But it’s not that easy. As R’ Mottel Pagremansky said, to sympathize with someone’s tzoros, you have to be a mentsch. To enjoy someone else’s simcha and success, you have to be a malach. It is a natural trait to be jealous, especially when you are not as successful as you think you should be, and nobody thinks they have everything they ought to have. When a person sees somebody buying a second mansion in Florida while he can barely make his own home expenses, or when the person sees someone else cruising around with a phenomenally expensive pleasure car while he has to drive a "tzara'as-mobile", an old jalopy, it is not easy to avoid kinah. Avoiding tzoras ayin, and learning to be a tov ayin, is hard, hard work.


In the description of the Kohen’s examination of the Tzaru’a, the passuk describes a potential tzaru’ah who is to be declared Tamei and banished. This is a person whose symptoms remain as they were, with no improvement. This state is described in two ways: One pasuk says “ v’hinei hanega omad b’einov,” and the other says “v’hinei lo hofach hanega es eino.”

The Chidushei HaRim

and the Ben Ish Chai
both say a very similar vort, but there is an interesting difference between them. They both say that the word "nega" is an anagram for the word "oneg." The only difference is where the ayin is. The "nun" and the "gimel" are in the same place. Where the ayin is makes all the difference between being a metzora and being a tahor. That is the difference between having an eye with the nega of jealousy, and having an eye with the ability to enjoy someone else’s happiness. When the pasuk says, “Hanega omad b’einov” it means to tell us about both the cause and the effect. If the nega hasn’t changed its appearance, if “Hanega omad b’einov,” this is because the metzora, or the owner of the object that has tzara’as, hasn’t changed. “Lo hofach hanega es eino,” His ayin didn’t change, lo hofach es eino.

The Chiddushei Hari'm ends there. According to the Ri'm, then, Tzara’as is the physical manifestation of a spiritual disease, and curing the middos naturally cures the Tzara’as.

The Ben Ish Chai goes on to add an interesting twist. He brings the stories of Nachum ish Gamzu and Reb Akiva, who each faced seemingly disastrous events. He explains that their unpleasant experiences were a nega, they were a gzeirah ra’ah from Hashem. But because they had such bitachon, they trusted in the love and hashgacha of Hashem, the gzeirah ra’ah was rearranged, so it became a gzeiroh tovah. They were m’hapeich the nega to oneg through their bitachon.

He uses the passuk “hechochom einav b’rosho” to express the idea that their chachma, in other words their emunah in Hashem, brought the ayin from the end of the nega to the beginning of the word– einov b’rosho, which is oneg, not einov b’sofo, which was nega. The gzeirah was bad, but their ability to be m’hapeich the osios made it into a good gzeirah, the zechus of their bitachon made it into a good gzeirah.

(I found the Ben Ish Chai very surprising. We usually think of bitachon, of "gam zu le'tova," of "kol de'avid Rachmana le'tav avid," as showing a person's - this person, for example- Panglossian assumption that everything that happens is meant for the good. According to the Ben Ish Chai, apparently, this is not true. It is the bitachon itself that changes the character of the event; if not for the bitachon, it would have been a disaster. Tzaros are misragshos u'ba'os le'olam. So the expressions 'le'tav avid,' or 'zu letova,' don't mean "the events are good per se". They mean "this may be a terrible event, but I trust that Hashem can and will turn it around and make it good."

This is the theme of Rav Yosef Ber Soloveitchik in his Kol Dodi Dofeik, translated into English as "Destiny and Fate." (p. 6)"Man's task in the world, according to Judaism, is to translate fate into destiny; a passive existence into an active existence; and existence of compulsion, perplexity and muteness into an existence replete with a powerful will, with resourcefulness, daring and imagination.")

The difference between the Ri’m and the Ben Ish Chai is that the Ri’m learns that Tzara’as is generated by bad middos, and cured by eliminating its cause, by becoming a tov ayin. This is specific to Tzara'as. The Ben Ish Chai, on the other hand, learns that yes, in the case of Tzara’as, it does stem from and end with the middah of tzarus ayin/tovas ayin; but the basic idea is of universal application. Many other nega'im can be resolved with this change of attitude. Sometimes, rachmana litzlan, we are menaced with frightening things. If a person is a tzar ayin, the nega will just continue unabated on its horrible course. But being a tov ayin can cure the nega: You can be turn any nega into oneg by showing faith in Hashgacha Pratis and trust in Hashem's love.

Now, here’s the fascinating thing. I realized that this is exactly the point Ravah is making in Brachos 60a. He brings the passuk “Mishe'mu'a ra'ah lo yir'ah, nachon libo batu'ach ba'hashem”, and he says that the passuk can be darshened forward or backward. This doesn't seem to be very interesting, until you realize that he means that the passuk is teaching both the derech of the Chiddushei Hari'm and the Ben Ish Chai.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Chayei Sarah; Avraham Avinu and His Servant Eliezer

24:1,2. VeHashem Beirach es Avrohom bakol..., avdo...hamosheil bechol asher lo. Avrohom was granted all he could possibly have, and Eliezer, his servant, ruled all that was Avrohom’s.

The Netziv here brings a Medrash on Bakol that says it means that Avraham was mosheil beyitzro, he ruled over all his human desires. He brings another Medrash that explains Eliezer's Hamosheil bechol asher lo the same way, that Eliezer ruled all his human desires. He asks, how can the Torah use the same praise for Avrohom and on Eliezer? If it is a shevach for Avrohom Ovinu, the one who thoroughly realized the truth of monotheism, the father of Klal Yisroel, the one who passed the ten nisyonos and called Eliezer a 'domeh lechamor,' how can the same thing be said of Eliezer? Does this imply parity or equivalence?

Harav Mordechai Eisenberg of Marlboro, New Jersey, added to the Netziv’s question: the Medrash says that when Eliezer came to see Lovon who said “bo beruch Hashem,” Lovon thought Eliezer was Avrohom because the klaster ponov, the glory of his appearance, seemed just like that of Avrohom.

The Netziv answers (with our hosofos) that the yeitzer of an Av Hamon Goyim is not the same as the yeitzer of an eved. The gadlus of being ‘shalit beyeitzer’ depends on how great that yeitzer is. An Av Hamon Goyim has to deal with all different kinds of people and he has enormous power. Both of these elements are corrupting influences, and threaten gadlus of middos. An eved, on the other hand, has a very circumscribed universe, and his yetzer hora and his control of it are on a much smaller scale. Avrohom ruled 'bakol'. Eliezer ruled 'bechol asher lo,' which is a far more circumscribed universe. Harav Eisenberg shtelled tzu the story about the Dubner Magid’s mussar to the Gaon, that if he had been more involved with people, he would have had a harder time being the Gaon. “Es iz nisht kein kuntz zayen a gaon in vinkaleh” (it is no trick to be a holy scholar if you stay isolated in your corner), to which the Gaon answered “Ich bin nisht kein kuntzmacher” (I am not a performer of tricks).

But Reb Mordechai asked an interesting question: how do Chazal they see from the word ‘Bakol’ that Hishlito beyitzro? So he said the following insight. This will help us understand the difference between the two shalitim be'yitzrom, and what Chazal mean when they say "bechol levovcho- bishtei yetzirecho."

The Rambam in Deiyos that says that the mesora of Avrohom is to serve Hashem in the derech hamemutza, the Golden Mean, the middle path. The Rambam adds that if a person who is fighting his bad middos finds himself going too far to one side, he should use his innate middos to pull himself back to the middle. We see that one can use the yetzer hora- the traits that are viewed as negative- in the service of good, such as when they are needed to temper excess in middos. So we can say that the difference between Avrohom and Eliezer was that Avrohom was at peace with his yetzer hora, he had enlisted it in avodas Hashem, he co-opted it. For Avrohom, beirach es Avrohom Bakol was a global brocho that enhanced all his traits- even the yetzer hora had a brocho— that it became more powerful, more effective. He was able to use his yetzer hora for avodas Hashem, so a brocho to the yetzer hora is a true brocho. Eliezer, on the other hand, reached the same madreiga through constant battle with the yetzer hora, a series of battles which never ended. So by Eliezer, it was not a brocho, it was hishlito. He did not co-opt his yeitzer hora, he vanquished it.

Also, the Rambam in the end of the first perek darshens derech hamemutza from the passuk “ki yedativ lema’an asher yetzaveh...”, so you see that Avrohom was a Rebbi in the derech hamemutza, and that was his great lesson in addressing the improvement of middos.

He looked in the Medrash, and by Avrohom it says “hishlito beyitzro;” by Eliezer Zkan Bayso, shehoyo domeh leAvrohom, and by Hamosheil bechol asher lo, shehoyo mosheil beyitzro kemoso.

On Chanukah 06/67, my shiur gave me the Tzofnas Pa’anei’ach ahl Hatorah, and I found a wonderful thing there that is precisely on point. See parshas Vayeishev, Breishis 39:2. He has a whole discussion about the two ways of becoming a tzadik; by making the yeitzer hora good, or by fighting and killing it. He brings the Yerushalmi Brochos 9:5 that says that Avrohom Ovinu made the yeitzer hora “tov.” But, the Yerushalmi says, Dovid Hamelech was not able “la’amod bo,” and so he killed his yeitzer hora– libi cholol b’kirbi. He says that Yosef, like Avrohom, ruled over his yeitzer hora, and was “sholeit” on it.

By the way, someone pointed out to me that Eliezer was the son of Nimrod. He had the chance of having a life of immediate gratification of any conceivable lust or desire for power. He abandoned this life for the chance of being a slave of Avrohom; Avrohom trusted him to find a wife for Yitzchok. So we have to appreciate who he was and what he accomplished. The fact that he was called an “orrur” was a matter of fate and yichus.


UPDATE 1 14 25
I came across this article in Atlantic Magazine. I do not know if he has anything to offer, but I am putting it here for safekeeping until I get to read it.

Why a Bit of Restraint Can Do You a Lot of Good

An uninhibited quest for authenticity sounds great. But if that just means acting out, you’re unlikely to be so happy.

By Arthur C. Brooks

 

The Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor has described our times as the “Age of Authenticity,” meaning an era when people are willing to publicize their secrets and indulge their urges, even if such a drive for personal truth involves transgressing traditional boundaries of self-control. Once, this type of exhibitionism was the preserve of a few celebrities, but now anybody can get in on the act: The quest for authenticity has spawned salacious memoirs, reality-TV shows of escalating disinhibition, and cathartic self-disclosure on social media.

Such revelations are supposed to be good for us, because suppressing our thoughts and desires is considered unhealthy and unnatural. In psychology, this way of thinking is sometimes called self-determination theory, according to which we are happiest when we obey our inner drives.

 

I would grant that living inauthentically and being repressed do not sound like a recipe for well-being. But the age of authenticity does not seem to have made us happier, either. Quite the reverse. Some scholars, such as Taylor and the historian and theologian Carl R. Trueman, have argued that American society has become far more expressively individualistic over the past few decades. Yet the average level of happiness has consistently fallen, even as reported levels of depression and anxiety have exploded.

One possible explanation for this paradox is that the lowering of self-control was an understandable but significant error in our collective thinking, and it took us in exactly the wrong direction where happiness is concerned. Although understanding how this happened won’t turn our whole culture around, it can help you be happier in your own life.

From a psychological perspective, a useful hypothesis of how self-management works is that two systems in the brain govern it: the behavioral activation system and the behavioral inhibition system. The first one excites the desire for rewards and other positive stimuli, and arouses your interest in doing things. The second one creates an aversion to punishment and negative consequences, and tells you not to do things.

Generally, you can think about each system in this way: If the activation system rises or the inhibition system falls, self-control may decrease. Alternatively, if the inhibition system rises or the activation system falls, self-control may increase. And what works for an individual also scales by analogy for the group or community.

So which combination makes us happier overall—more of the behavioral activation system and less of the behavioral inhibition system, or the other way around? The answer is that both combinations are effective. A team of eight psychologists showed this in a 2018 study on self-control in the Journal of Personality. The team fielded a series of undergraduate surveys. The researchers found that low levels of self-control were associated with the lowest levels of subjective well-being. Moving to a higher level of self-control increased the undergraduates’ happiness.

Interestingly, in a separate study within the paper, the researchers also found that low-to-moderate levels of self-control—that is, a slightly below-average level of self-control—were associated with the lowest levels of momentary well-being. Yet a complete lack of self-control was associated with slightly higher momentary well-being. This is no wonder: Letting completely loose is commonly associated with very short-term bouts of pleasure.

This implies that if you are a somewhat reserved, self-controlled person, you can raise your sense of well-being in one of two completely contrasting ways: by being more authentic and impulsive or by being more punctilious and modest. Given that choice, the former sounds a lot more fun. The idea that most people would choose disinhibition and that authenticity would become the spirit of the age makes intuitive sense.

The trouble is that the let-it-all-hang-out approach is restricted to momentary well-being, and has consequences for others. In 2011, scholars at Arizona State University studied the correlation of low self-control with irresponsible behavior that makes life worse for others. They found that low self-control, although potentially enjoyable to the one shedding inhibitions, is associated with criminal offending, academic fraud, binge drinking, drunk dialing, public profanity, and (weirdly) public flatulence. All of these behaviors have negative social consequences, some more serious than others, but any will affect the well-being of others.

I would hazard this as a partial explanation at least for our national happiness funk: American culture has gone the wrong way about getting happier—by encouraging each of us to relax self-control to get happier, the unfortunate result is that we have become unhappier as a whole, and are now stuck that way. By seeking the short-term mood payoff that comes from disinhibition, we have become unapologetic, drunk-dialing, cussing, farting fraudsters who make one another miserable.

That is a broad statement, and not intended to be taken literally. But if you think the characterization is preposterously extreme, have you looked at your social-media feed lately?

For your own well-being, and everyone’s, increasing self-control might be much better than lowering it. To propose this at a societal level is nothing new; writers have been doing so for centuries. Benjamin Franklin, for example, exhorted “all well-bred people” to “forcibly restrain the Efforts of Nature to discharge that Wind.” But he had a broader vision, too, for how to realize greater collective happiness. “Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will,” he advised, “and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.”

As Franklin suggests and the aforementioned research shows, even if others don’t mend their ways, controlling yourself more is a strategy that will raise your individual well-being. It can be hard to go against unfortunate social trends, so here are a couple of helpful things to keep in mind.

First, be aware of the forces around you that may lower the activity of the inhibition system in your brain and thus push you toward lower self-control. According to scholars at the University of Toronto and Northwestern University, three bad influences to watch out for are excess alcohol, anonymity, and social power. None of these necessarily leads to antisocial behavior, but they easily can—and so take you in the wrong direction for happiness. (For instance, have you ever come across someone who’s happy to have said or done something drunk that they would have been embarrassed to say or do sober?)

Similarly, who expects to find people being their best, most magnanimous selves when posting anonymously on social media? In fact, scholars who have studied anonymity on social media have found that although most users behave benignly, a small subset may demonstrate antisocial, even psychopathic, behavior. If you’re seeking to boost your self-control, shun any social media forum where your identity is hidden. Instead, accept responsibility for everything you say.

Social power—meaning, your capacity to influence others—is a trickier subject. If you possess, say, an ability to publish material that many other people will read, see, or hear, you should ask yourself whether your desire to attract and retain an audience is leading you to abandon your privacy. Does what you reveal about yourself evoke in people a frisson of interest but also lead them to hold a low opinion of your taste and manners? How much better to err on the side of self-control.

And consider the social influence we invest in leaders. We reduce our own well-being when we hand power to vulgarians. Just as it feels freeing to shed self-control but ultimately leads to negative consequences, so following leaders who act without constraints and break norms might feed our id but inevitably takes us individually and collectively down a dark path.

You might think that because I am arguing that the happiest path is one in which we sublimate our true feelings and desires through greater self-control, I am advocating in effect for inauthenticity. But that’s not my intention; rather, I am arguing for authentic self-improvement. The choice to act in a particular way boils down to a choice of who we will be as people—the famous “As If Principle” in psychology shows that we become a certain way by acting as if you already are that way.

 

This is what Aristotle meant when he wrote that “virtues are formed in a man by his doing the actions.” One important choice we have is to behave with either controlled grace or uncontrolled entitlement. Neither option is in reality more authentic than the other because, in becoming who we are through our choices, both paths are equally authentic; both embody who we’ve chosen to be as people. But only one path, that of controlled grace, leads to greater happiness for one and all. So the beautiful truth is that we can elect to become authentically better than we were—and happier to boot.

 

 About the Author

Arthur C. Brooks (Not Jewish.)

Arthur C. Brooks is a contributing writer at The Atlantic and the host of the How to Build a Happy Life podcast. To receive his weekly column “How to Build a Life” in your inbox, sign up here.