Avos 5:22

בס׳ד

אבות ה:כב

Ben Bag-Bag says: Turn it every which way, for everything is in it; And meditate on it; And grow old with it; And never abandon it - For there is nothing better than it. Ben Heh-Heh says: The pain brings the gain.

בֶּן בַּג בַּג אוֹמֵר, הֲפֹךְ בָּהּ וַהֲפֹךְ בָּהּ, דְּכֹלָּא בָהּ. וּבָהּ תֶּחֱזֵי, וְסִיב וּבְלֵה בָהּ, וּמִנַּהּ לֹא תָזוּעַ, שֶׁאֵין לְךָ מִדָּה טוֹבָה הֵימֶנָּה: בֶּן הֵא הֵא אוֹמֵר, לְפוּם צַעֲרָא אַגְרָא:

        A lot of mystery surrounds the identities of the final two Sages of Mishnah Avos.  The gemara (Bavli Kiddushin 10b) mentions a Sage named Yohanan ben Bag-Bag who studied in the Vineyard at Yavneh. Perhaps he is identical to the ben Bag-Bag of our mishnah.  The Tosfos (to Bavli Hagigah 9b), reports that both ben Bag-Bag and ben Heh-Heh were converts, and that their names are codes for their converted status.  “Heh-Heh” stands for the letter Heh added to the names of Avram and Sarai when they finally entered the covenant with HaShem. And the numerical value of “Bag-Bag” equals 5 + 5, which is equal to Heh + Heh.  This is what the tradition transmits about these Sages, and I have nothing better to offer.

        Their teachings, however, are certainly appropriate summaries of the teachings of Mishnah Avos.  Ben Bag-Bag delivers a loving poem to the endless depths of Torah, a hymn to a life lived before the outpouring of HaShem’s infinite wisdom into the language of His people, Israel.

        And as for ben Heh-Heh, he shows us how the values of arduous Torah study contrast with our own contemporary Hellenism of physical culture.  On every gymnasium wall in America you can find the legend: “No pain, No gain”. Now you know where it comes from, and what it REALLY means!  The difficult labor of working our own minds and bodies into the world of the Torah results in a transformation that changes us and all with whom we have relations. The pain is finite, but the gain sustains us in This World and in the Coming Future.

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Seliqa Lan Massekhes Avos

We Have Completed Mishnah Avos!

Hadran Alakh Massekhes Avos

We Honor You, Mishnah Avos!

Hadrakh Alan Massekhes Avos

You Honor Us, Mishnah Avos!

Avos 5:21

בס׳ד

אבות ה:כא

He used to teach: Five years old?  Ready for Bible. Ten years old?  Ready for Mishnah. Thirteen years old?  Ready for Mitzvahs. Fifteen years old?  Ready for Talmud. Eighteen years old?  Ready for marriage. Twenty years old?  Ready for a trade. Thirty years old?  Reaching strength. Forty years old?  Reaching insight. Fifty years old?  Reaching counsel. Sixty years old?  Rich in experience. Seventy years old?  Getting gray. Eighty years old?  Some energy is left. Ninety years old?  Bending over. A Hundred years old?  Nearly dead and gone!

הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, בֶּן חָמֵשׁ שָׁנִים לַמִּקְרָא, בֶּן עֶשֶׂר לַמִּשְׁנָה, בֶּן שְׁלשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה לַמִּצְוֹת, בֶּן חֲמֵשׁ עֶשְׂרֵה לַתַּלְמוּד, בֶּן שְׁמֹנֶה עֶשְׂרֵה לַחֻפָּה, בֶּן עֶשְׂרִים לִרְדֹּף, בֶּן שְׁלשִׁים לַכֹּחַ, בֶּן אַרְבָּעִים לַבִּינָה, בֶּן חֲמִשִּׁים לָעֵצָה, בֶּן שִׁשִּׁים לַזִּקְנָה, בֶּן שִׁבְעִים לַשֵּׂיבָה, בֶּן שְׁמֹנִים לַגְּבוּרָה, בֶּן תִּשְׁעִים לָשׁוּחַ, בֶּן מֵאָה כְּאִלּוּ מֵת וְעָבַר וּבָטֵל מִן הָעוֹלָם:

        The first line of this mishnah, “he used to teach”, suggests that before us is another statement from Yehudah ben Tema.  But many authorities believe that this is actually a teaching of Tiny Shmuel.  In fact, Makhzor Vitri’s version of Pirkei Avos includes Tiny Shmuel’s teaching at Avos 4:19.

        In any event, the Tanna offers us a powerful picture of the pattern of a Jewish life.  He sees life as unfolding in three basic stages: the preparation for life, the exercise of our fullest powers, and the preparation for our departure from life in dignity.

        The years from 5 until 20 are occupied with major elements of Torah learning, the beginning of a family, and the development of a trade.  As we have already learned: “Torah study goes best with a worldly occupation” (Avos 2:2). These are the years in which a foundation in both are best laid.

        

In popular American culture, the years from 30-60 are usually called the “peak earning years”.  See how differently our Sages look at the middle part of life!  There is nothing here about what you earn. Everything is about your developing powers of wisdom and discernment.  Our aging, according to the mishnah, is an opportunity for us to place our accumulated experience and wisdom at the disposal of our families and communities.

        The years from 70-100 are the years if winding down and preparation for receiving the life of the Coming World.  With God’s help, the foundations of Torah that have shaped our middle years will support us in our aging in the form of children and grandchildren who will treat us with love and dignity as our powers wane.

        As I was writing my comments on Mishnah Avos, my Mother was entering her final illness.  I thought many times about this mishnah, as I talked to her over the phone, and watched as every possible effort was made to treat her with love, dignity, and care.  She died at the age of 77, with family members at her side, surrounding her with loving attention.  I have often felt I missed something by being so far away when she passed.  But it is beautiful to realize that she had a “good death”, a death in which her last moments were shared with words of Torah and gazes of love and care.

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Avos 5:20

בס׳ד

אבות ה:כ

Yehudah ben Tema says: Be fierce as a leopard, Swift as an eagle, Fleet as a deer, And ferocious as a lion, In doing the will of your Father in Heaven. He used to teach: The arrogant belong to Gehinnom, but the meek to the Garden of Eden. May it be Your will, HaShem our God, that you rebuild Your city speedily in our days, and place our destiny with Your Torah.

יְהוּדָה בֶן תֵּימָא אוֹמֵר, הֱוֵי עַז כַּנָּמֵר, וְקַל כַּנֶּשֶׁר, וְרָץ כַּצְּבִי, וְגִבּוֹר כָּאֲרִי, לַעֲשׂוֹת רְצוֹן אָבִיךָ שֶׁבַּשָּׁמָיִם. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, עַז פָּנִים לְגֵיהִנֹּם, וּבֹשֶׁת פָּנִים לְגַן עֵדֶן. יְהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶיךָ יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ שֶׁתִּבְנֶה עִירְךָ בִּמְהֵרָה בְיָמֵינוּ וְתֵן חֶלְקֵנוּ בְתוֹרָתֶךָ:

        From this point until the end of Perek 5, there are a lot of textual variations between various manuscripts of the Mishnah, on the one hand, and, on the other, those versions of the Mishnah found in Makhzor Vitri and other siddurim.  The order followed here is the one found in most printed editions of the Mishnah.

        Many historians of the Mishnah’s text believe that Avos 5:21-22 (which immediately follow the present mishnah) were not originally part of the Mishnah.  Why not?  Notice that the final lines of our mishnah are the familiar prayer for the restoration of Yerushalayim, yehi ratzon milfanekha.  This is not actually part of Mishnah Avos.  It was probably added by a pious scribe who had completed his manuscript.  It was preserved by other copyists, just as now in the siddur we find yet another addition that is not part of the Mishnah itself - the prayer of Rabbi Hanania ben Akashya: “The Blessed Holy One wanted to heap merits upon Israel.  Therefore he gave them much Torah and many commandments, as it is said: ‘HaShem desires his Righteous Ones, thus He has magnified his Torah and glorified it’.”

        

Yehudah ben Tema’s first teaching has been made famous by being quoted as the opening lines of Rabbi Yaakov ben Asher’s Arba Turim and Rabbi Yosef Karo’s Shulkhan Arukh (Orekh Hayyim 1:1). The greatest of the recent halakhic codifiers introduced their works with this stirring challenge.  Why does Yehudah ben Tema charge us to serve HaShem with virtues appropriate to animals rather than those embodied by human heroes such as Avraham, Moshe, Dovid, and so on?  His point, it seems, is to teach us that the highest service of HaShem lies in the total transformation of our animal nature through Torah and mitzvahs.  The traits of animality deep within us all threaten to destroy our avodah until they are harnessed by our conscious will. This insight lies at the heart of the Alter Rebbe’s teaching about the constant struggle of the nefesh behamis (the “animal soul”) and the nefesh elokis (“divine soul”).

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Avos 5:19

בס׳ד

אבות ה:יט

Anyone with these three traits is among the disciples of Avraham Avinu; But one who has three other traits, is among the disciples of Wicked Bilaam. A good eye, a humble manner, and self-control?  Among the disciples of Avraham Avinu! A wicked eye, a haughty manner, and self-indulgence?  Among the disciples of Wicked Bilaam! And what distinguishes disciples of Avraham Avinu and disciples of Wicked Bilaam? Disciples of Avraham Avinu enjoy this world and inherit the Coming World, as it is said: “The inheritance of My adored ones survives, and their treasuries I will fill” (Mishlei 8:21). But disciples of Wicked Bilaam inherit Gehinnom and descend into the Pit of Destruction, as it is said: “ And You, O God, will bring them down to the Pit of Destruction , Men of blood and lies will not live out half their days, but My promise remains yours” (Tehillim 55:24).

כָּל מִי שֶׁיֵּשׁ בְּיָדוֹ שְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים הַלָּלוּ, מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ. וּשְׁלשָׁה דְבָרִים אֲחֵרִים, מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע. עַיִן טוֹבָה, וְרוּחַ נְמוּכָה, וְנֶפֶשׁ שְׁפָלָה, מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ. עַיִן רָעָה, וְרוּחַ גְּבוֹהָה, וְנֶפֶשׁ רְחָבָה, מִתַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע. מַה בֵּין תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ לְתַלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע. תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל אַבְרָהָם אָבִינוּ, אוֹכְלִין בָּעוֹלָם הַזֶּה וְנוֹחֲלִין בָּעוֹלָם הַבָּא, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (משלי ח) לְהַנְחִיל אֹהֲבַי יֵשׁ, וְאֹצְרֹתֵיהֶם אֲמַלֵּא. אֲבָל תַּלְמִידָיו שֶׁל בִּלְעָם הָרָשָׁע יוֹרְשִׁין גֵּיהִנֹּם וְיוֹרְדִין לִבְאֵר שַׁחַת, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (תהלים נה) וְאַתָּה אֱלֹהִים תּוֹרִידֵם לִבְאֵר שַׁחַת, אַנְשֵׁי דָמִים וּמִרְמָה לֹא יֶחֱצוּ יְמֵיהֶם, וַאֲנִי אֶבְטַח בָּךְ:

        The pairing of Avraham Avinu and Wicked Bilaam is a strange one. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to contrast Bilaam and Moshe Rabbenu, since the two prophesied in the same generation?  Surely, the virtues of generosity, humility, and restraint of the passions were virtues known to Moshe!  A second problem concerns Bilaam himself. Why would a Jew think of becoming a disciple of Bilaam, since Bilaam was a Gentile?  Shouldn’t the mishnah’s contrast of Avraham have been another Jew - say, Korakh - who also possessed the vices of a bad eye, haughtiness, and self-indulgence?

        Perhaps an answer to these problems lies in a simple fact.  Avraham Avinu was a Gentile before he became a Jew.  Therefore, he is the only hero of our tradition who is in some sense comparable to Bilaam.  Moreover, both were prophets about the future of Israel. Avraham was given a frightening vision about his descendants future servitude in Egypt (Bereshis 15:11-14), while Bilaam foresaw Israel’s future glory (Bamidbar 24:15-19).

        From this perspective, we can see how Avraham and Bilaam represent a clear and important choice for Jews.  Both are men who heard God first in the context of the nations of the world.  They were in that world and part of it.  But when Avraham heard the divine word, it transformed him into a person whose love of HaShem penetrated his very nature.  It changed his behavior and his thoughts, and he became the exemplar of the middos described in our mishnah. Not so Bilaam. For him, the passage of HaShem’s words through his mouth made no difference whatsoever.  He was the person afterwards that he had been before.  Nothing changed.  

We are required to be among the disciples of Avraham Avinu, seeking the Torah and inviting it to transform us.

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Avos 5:18

בס׳ד

אבות ה:יח

Anyone who brings virtue to the community will not fall into sin. But one who causes the community to sin will not even have a chance for repentance. Moshe was virtuous and brought virtue to the community.  Therefore, the virtue of the community is credited to him, as it is said: “He performed righteous deeds for HaShem, and his justice remains in Israel” (Devarim 33:21). Yerovam sinned and caused the community to sin.  Therefore, the sin of the community is credited to him, as it is said: “And for the sins of Yerovam that he committed, and which he caused Israel to commit (Melakhim 1, 15:30).

כָּל הַמְזַכֶּה אֶת הָרַבִּים, אֵין חֵטְא בָּא עַל יָדוֹ. וְכָל הַמַּחֲטִיא אֶת הָרַבִּים, אֵין מַסְפִּיקִין בְּיָדוֹ לַעֲשׂוֹת תְּשׁוּבָה. משֶׁה זָכָה וְזִכָּה אֶת הָרַבִּים, זְכוּת הָרַבִּים תָּלוּי בּוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (דברים לג) צִדְקַת ה' עָשָׂה וּמִשְׁפָּטָיו עִם יִשְׂרָאֵל. יָרָבְעָם חָטָא וְהֶחֱטִיא אֶת הָרַבִּים, חֵטְא הָרַבִּים תָּלוּי בּוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (מלכים א טו) עַל חַטֹּאות יָרָבְעָם (בֶּן נְבָט) אֲשֶׁר חָטָא וַאֲשֶׁר הֶחֱטִיא אֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל:

        The basic premise of this mishnah seems to be that the social impact of our actions is far more important to HaShem than our personal destiny.  A person who exercises communal leadership in a way that leads many to Torah, performs a teshuvah that can overcome any of his own sins.  This is because the virtues that he taught the community stand to his credit as if he himself had performed them. By contrast, a leader who entices the community into sin will find that tragedies he has caused will cancel his own attempts to atone for them. The entire weight of sin that he caused are accounted as if he had personally committed them.

        The principle is a provocative one, but the example of Moshe is troubling.  Isn’t Moshe precisely a counter-example to the mishnah’s principle?  Here is a man who gave Torah to Israel, and never in his life did anything but model perfect service of HaShem.  Yet for his impatient beating of a rock at Merivah, he was punished by HaShem and could not enter Eretz Yisroel (Bamidbar 20:9-13). Nothing he said or did by way of pleading with HaShem had any effect at all (Devarim 3:22-28).  In light of all that Moshe personally did by way of divine service, and in light of the fact that he alone was responsible for any mitzvahs observed by Israel in the midbar, shouldn’t we expect that a small fit of temper at a trying moment might be overlooked?

        We might be able to solve this problem by looking a bit more closely at the Hebrew words that underlie the translation, “the virtue of the community is credited to him”: zkhus harabbim talui bo. Most meforshim interpret the phrase as I’ve rendered it, and I am surprised that none of the gedolim I’ve consulted find this troubling. Indeed, most of them cite passages in the gemara (Bavli Yoma 86a) and Avos d’Rabbi Noson (A,40) that confirm the point.

        But it’s possible to read these Hebrew words as follows: “the merit of the community hangs upon him”.  That is, the mishnah is simply pointing out the basic notion of zkhus avos, the “merits of the ancestors”.  In this case, any merit that Klal Yisroel has in the eyes of HaShem is due to the labor of Moshe, who taught us Torah.  This in no way privileges Moshe in his relationship to HaShem. He still suffers for his own failures, as the Torah insists.    But WE benefit nevertheless from the after-effects of his devoted mesiras nefesh on behalf of all of us.

        This way of reading the mishnah solves the problem we have raised without causing difficulties in interpreting the final statement about Yerovam, the son of Shlomo HaMelekh who founded an idolatrous kingdom in Shomron after his father’s death.  His deeds divided the people into two and, in a real way, weakened the Davidic Empire.  The ultimate consequence of his sin was the destruction of his own kingdom in 722 BCE at the hands of Assyria, and the Exile of Yehudah in 587.  The sins he enticed the community into committing “hang upon him”, that is, the after-effects of his actions resonated long beyond his own lifetime.

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Avos 5:17

בס׳ד

אבות ה:יז

Any dispute engaged in the name of Heaven is destined to endure. But disputes not engaged in the name of Heaven are not destined to endure. What is an example of a dispute engaged in the name of Heaven?  The dispute of Hillel and Shammai. And one not in the name of Heaven?  The dispute of Korakh and his gang.

כָּל מַחֲלֹקֶת שֶׁהִיא לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, סוֹפָהּ לְהִתְקַיֵּם. וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, אֵין סוֹפָהּ לְהִתְקַיֵּם. אֵיזוֹ הִיא מַחֲלֹקֶת שֶׁהִיא לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, זוֹ מַחֲלֹקֶת הִלֵּל וְשַׁמַּאי. וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ לְשֵׁם שָׁמַיִם, זוֹ מַחֲלֹקֶת קֹרַח וְכָל עֲדָתוֹ:

        Rabbi Yohanan the Sandal Maker already taught us the distinction between gatherings of Jews in the service of Heaven and gatherings of Jews that, in the name of Heaven, pursue ulterior motives (Avos 4:11). Only the former can hope to achieve their purposes.  The same is true, we now learn, of communal controversy.

        Anyone who studies the teachings of the Sages - from mishnah, to midrash, to gemara - sees immediately that their tradition is one of constant dispute and controversy.  Dispute over great and small matters is not only encouraged, but the grounds of disputes and their ultimate implications are lovingly reconstructed and amplified in one talmudic sugya after another.  This mishnah now comes to teach the principle that distinguishes the productive controversy from the destructive controversy - all lies in the motives of the disputants.

        What is a dispute “destined to endure”?  Does it mean that the dispute will perpetually remain unresolved?  No.  It means that the parties to the dispute are each honestly committed to their position, and engage each other in order to fulfill the possibilities of Torah.  Not only does the topic of the dispute remain alive in the tradition, nourishing the reflection of generations who struggle to grasp it.  But the names of the disputants survive as well.  Their identities live on as we explore their words.  So we read everywhere in the Mishnah: “These are the words of Shammai.  But Hillel said…”  And so on with all the great Sages mentioned in the Mishnah and gemara.  Each disputed point of view is lovingly preserved in the event that, in the future, the tradition will fully grasp the view of even the minority position and realize that it should determine our practice.

        The contrast, of course, lies in disputes that have as their hidden agenda the desire for power, wealth, or self-assertion.  The primary example of this is the rebellion of Korakh and his gang against the authority of Moshe and Aharon. The entire story is preserved in the Torah (Bamidbar 16:1-35), but notice that neither the dispute, nor the names of Korakh’s supporters, are passed on in tradition.  Rather, they are frozen in the past as negative examples; their tradition dies with them, buried in the same “mouth of the Earth” that swallowed them and their arguments.

        How do we distinguish in our own day among the many disputes that divide we Jews?  Which are engaged in the name of Heaven and which not?  I wish it were just a matter of saying: “Whoever takes the most stringent position”. Unfortunately, this is no precedent since we know that Bes Hillel was consistently on the side of leniency in its disputes with Bes Shammai.  Rather than identify specific parties who struggle “in the name of Heaven” and those who do not, it might be more productive to focus on broad questions that all Jews now struggle over.

        I suspect that the enormous dispute between Orthodoxy and more liberal forms of Judaism over the halakhic status of women is just such a dispute engaged in the name of Heaven; one in which all parties are struggling in the depths of their souls to fulfill the will of HaShem. Similarly, I would say that the dispute dividing the world’s Jews about the solution of the State of Israel’s struggle with the Arab world is engaged for the sake of Heaven.  It is possible to take many sides in complete honesty, love of Israel, and without ulterior motive; and it is possible to misuse any side as an opportunity for creating division and hatred.  We must stand with all our energy where conscience guides us and trust ultimately that, as HaShem said of the disputes of Hillel and Shammai, “these and those are the words of the Living God!” (Bavli Eruvin 13b).

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Avos 5:16

בס׳ד

אבות ה:טז

Any love that depends upon desire - lose the desire and you’ll lose the love. But love free of desire will never be lost. What is an example of love dependent upon desire?  The love of Amnon and Tamar. And a love free of desire?  The love of David and Yonasan.

כָּל אַהֲבָה שֶׁהִיא תְלוּיָה בְדָבָר, בָּטֵל דָּבָר, בְּטֵלָה אַהֲבָה. וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ תְּלוּיָה בְדָבָר, אֵינָהּ בְּטֵלָה לְעוֹלָם. אֵיזוֹ הִיא אַהֲבָה הַתְּלוּיָה בְדָבָר, זוֹ אַהֲבַת אַמְנוֹן וְתָמָר. וְשֶׁאֵינָהּ תְּלוּיָה בְדָבָר, זוֹ אַהֲבַת דָּוִד וִיהוֹנָתָן:

        This mishnah is a beautiful example of how the wisdom of the Sages can make use of and deepen insights of Gentile learning.  Since the time of the philosopher Plato, the tradition of Greek and Roman philosophy had made an important distinction between two sorts of love.  The first sort of love, eros, was the kind of love that sought to possess the beloved.  Our English word, “erotic”, comes from this and refers to love grounded in physical desire.  A second sort of love was called agape (pronounced ah-gah-pay).  This was a kind of love that was directed at the beloved with no regard for the lover’s own self-interest.  It was a love of the beloved for his or her own sake.  For the Greeks, eros had its place, but agape was the highest sort of love.

        The sages of the Mishnah made the same distinction between love born from physical desire and love that seeks only the well-being of the beloved.  The present teaching adds the key point that the former type of love is ultimately selfish.  In the mishnah’s terms, it is based upon a davar - an object of desire.  As soon as the beauty fades or the desire is satisfied, the love begins to crumble. Since you really love only a davar - your own pleasure - and not the other person, you will naturally move on to the next opportunity for self-gratification. But love grounded in concern for the beloved is not ultimately love of oneself. Therefore it survives our own selfish needs and provides the basis for a firm relationship.

        As the Tosfos Yom Tov points out, the specific examples offered in the mishnah of each type of love are to be taken as dugma b’alma, points of departure for further reflection.  They can be multiplied, as we shall do in a moment.  But they are excellent examples.

        The story of Amnon and Tamar is told in the second book of Shmuel, chapter 13.  It is a horrifying story set in Davis’s court.  David had two sons, Avshalom and Amnon, of different wives.  Tamar was Avshalom’s sister from the same mother, and Amnon’s half-sister.  As the story goes, Amnon had an overpowering sexual attraction to Tamar and devised a ploy to get her alone.  She resisted his advances, and he ultimately raped her.  Immediately, he felt nothing but contempt for her.  Publicly humiliating her, he threw her out of the palace.  In an ultimate act of revenge, Avshalom later conspired to have Amnon killed.  So Amnon’s selfish satisfaction of his desire led not only to the anguish of Tamar, but to the loss of his own life.  Self-love led to self-annihilation.  The ultimate lack of davar -nothingness!

        The mishnah’s example of a totally selfless love is the love story of Yonasan for David.  Yonasan was Shaul’s son.  Despite Shaul’s growing jealousy of David, Yonasan consistently defended David and protected him from Shaul’s attempts to have David murdered.  In describing the character of Yonasan’s love, the Torah uses a crucial phrase: “Yonasan’s soul was bound up with (niksherah) David’s, and Yonasan loved David as himself” (Shmuel 1, 18:1).  The same quality of love is described in the Torah to describe Yaakov’s love of his youngest son, Binyamin: nafsho keshurah binafsho, “one’s soul is bound up with the other’s” (Bereshis 44:30).  From this we learn that the highest type of love is that of parents for children, a selfless love that denies one’s own well-being for that of the other.

        Is this sort of love possible only for parents?  No, it is the stuff of friendships like those of Yonasan and David, as well as other sorts of relationships.  A beautiful example is Ruth’s love for her mother-in-law, Naomi - “Wherever you go, I shall go; Your people shall be my people; And your God shall be my God” (Ruth 1:16).  The love that bound these two women made Naomi attempt to spare Ruth the harsh realities of becoming a Jew, but Ruth’s love was so fierce it compelled her to identify herself totally with Naomi without regard for her own well-being.  Out of this love, of course, came the line of David, for Ruth became a Jew and married Boaz.  Here we learn that the model of selfless love stands at the foundation of our hopes for messianic redemption.

        This hope, of course, is based on our confidence in HaShem’s love for Israel: “It is not because you were the most numerous of the peoples that HaShem set his heart upon you and singled you out - indeed, you are the least significant of peoples.  But it is because HaShem loved you and kept the oath He had made to your ancestors that HaShem freed you with a mighty hand…” (Devarim 7:7-8). HaShem’s love was, and is, based on no-thing, no davar. Perhaps that is why He gave us His ultimate davar, his ultimate word - the Torah. That is why, in His own good time, He will send us the Root of Yishai and the ultimate descendant of Ruth and Boaz.

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