Pirkei Avot: Talking a Little, Acheiving a Lot

British Baron and Poet Alfred Lord Tennyson once said: “Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.” In this Mishna, Shammai imparts to us the way to make sure the wisdom of the Torah is not only studied but also becomes a part of who we are. Shammai comes to teach us what we can do best so that those around us taken in the wisdom we have to share, in a way that lingers.

“Shammai used to say: make your [study of the] Torah a fixed practice; speak little, but do much; and receive all men with a pleasant countenance.” (Avot 1:15)

While Shammai is often seen as the stricter one, much of this strictness was manifested by Beit Shammai, Shammai’s followers, rather than Shammai himself. This is another example of how often it is later legacies and followers that magnify our impact in this world. Parents might take a certain position more casually, but that distinct position will become a main theme in their child’s life. 

“Make your [study of the] Torah a fixed practice”-it is very difficult to give this statement a perfect translation. The Mishna says Aseh Toratcha Keva—make your Torah Keva, fixed or permanent. The common understanding of this Mishna is that we are to make our Torah study the most steadfast part of our lives. No matter what happens, make sure that your Torah study occupies a central role in your life. Just like we do on the holiday of Sukkot by going out of our homes into the Sukka, making the Sukka our permanent home and our home a temporary one, so too we must make sure that our Torah study is the permanent and central part of our lives, while everything else is temporary. We must make sure that we study Torah every day in a way that is never compromised by occurring errands and obligations. Life gets busy for everyone, and if we let the study of Torah to be pushed off by every obligation that comes our way, we will never study. We must make sure we study Torah no matter what.

“I will never forget the time I worked as a counselor in a summer camp in Brooklyn around the year 2008. The children were from 4th going into 5th grade, and most of them came from Sephardic backgrounds. Some of the children had parents who had come from Syria in the 1980s and 1990s. At the time, I had also been going to college for a degree in psychology and was taking an interest in children’s development and their image of who they are going to become. While on the bus on the way to trips, I would ask children what they wanted to become when they grew up. One of these children, whose parents immigrated to the U.S. from Syria, told me that when he grows up, he would like to become a Hacham (the Sephardic word for a rabbi or a great Torah scholar).

I was surprised because most kids that age knew enough to know they did not know what they wanted to do when they grew up, yet this child knew with certainty. Wondering where that came from, I asked him if anyone in his family was a Hacham and why it is that he wanted to do so. The child told me that his father worked very hard in a fast-food sandwich takeout restaurant and that when his father comes home in the evening after a hard day of work, he sits in front of a Gemara and studies Torah with great intensity. The child knew how hard it was to study after such a day of work. Seeing the effort his father put into studying Torah made him decide he wanted to become a great Torah scholar.”

That is the meaning of making the Torah your fixed occupation. It did not matter what that father did during the day. It did not matter how hard he was working, it did not matter what his job was, that father knew that the most important part of his day would be the study of Torah and that knowledge resonated very clearly with his family.

Yet another understanding is that Keva means the place where you are always oriented. One of the most beautiful things about being Jewish is knowing that no matter where you travel, every synagogue you will be going to will be reading the same Torah portion that week. Every Daf Yomi class of daily Talmud learning will be studying the exact same page of the Talmud across more than fifty countries, and the bookshelf in so many homes, synagogues, and institutions will look the same—the five books of Moses, the Mishna, and the Talmud. To the extent that we make Torah a fixed aspect of our lives, it in return, reorients us.

Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik, who taught Talmud for decades in Yeshiva University, famously said the following in one of his classes in 1974:  

“Whenever I start the shiur (Torah class), the door opens, and another old man walks in and sits down. He is older than I am. All the talmidim (students) call me the Rav, he is older than the Rav. He is the great-grandfather of the Rav; his name is Reb Chaim Brisker. And without whom no shiur can be delivered nowadays. Then, the door opens quietly again and another old man comes in, he is older than Reb Chaim, he lived in the 17th century. What’s his name? Shabsai Kohen- the famous Shach- who must be present when dinei mamonos (financial laws in the Torah) are being discussed; when we study Bava Metziah, Bava Kamah. And then, more visitors show up. Some lived, some of the visitors lived in the 11th century, some in the 12th century, some in the 13th century, some lived in antiquity- Rebbe Akiva, Rashi, Rabbeinu Tam, the Ra’avad, the Rashba, more and more come in, come in, come in.  Of course, what do I do? I introduce them to my pupils and the dialogue commences. The Rambam says something, the Ra’avad disagrees, and sometimes he’s very nasty. Very sharp, harsh language he uses against the Rambam. A boy jumps up to defend the Rambam against the Ra’avad, and the boy is fresh- you know how young boys are fresh- so the language he uses is improper, he uses improper language. So, I correct him. And another jumps up with a new idea; the Rashba smiles gently. I try to analyze what the young boy meant, another boy intervenes, we call upon the Rabbeinu Tam to express his opinion, and suddenly a symposium of generations comes into existence.           

Generations! Young boys- 22, 23, 24 years of age- there are boys who are just 18 years old that are in my class. One generation. Then my generation, then the generation of Reb Chaim Brisker, then the generation of the Shach, then the generation of the Rashba, the Ramban, the generation of the Rambam, the generation of Rashi, the generation of the Rabbeinu Tam, and then, I mean there is no end! What about the Rav Hai Gaon? What about Rebbe Akiva, Rebbe Elazar, and Rav Yochanan ben Zakai? All generations somehow… We all speak one language…”

This is the meaning of making your Torah permanent. No matter where you go or where you are, your place does not matter as much as the island of Torah on which you are standing. Torah is the common language that unites us across spans of time and geography, age, and socioeconomic affiliation. Torah has been not only the source of the Jewish people’s strength of spirit but also the great social equalizer that brings people together, no matter how rich or poor they may be. Studying in Yeshiva as a young man, I remember seeing students from families of great wealth, which means studying alongside those from families who came from poorer families. It did not matter. All sat around the timeless table of Torah study. This was our Keva—permanence—and everything else was Array—temporary.

Interestingly, the word Keva in scripture has a negative meaning. One of stealing. “ “Will a man rob (Hayikva) God? Yet you rob Me, and you say, “With what have we robbed You?”-With tithes and with the Teruma-levy.” (Malachi 3)

There are those who suggest a somewhat homiletical reading that has a great deal of truth to it. As life goes on, there are more and more demands on our time. Work, family, commuting, health, and many other demands that will mercilessly consume our time take up every moment of our day. When wanting to set aside time for our learning, we can find countless reasons not to study Torah and to say we have the motivation but simply do not have the time for it. There will not be a blank time slate that we can simply designate for the study of Torah. In order for us to learn, we need to “steal” time from our schedules in order to study Torah. While other events may or may not happen in our day, the study of Torah must take place.

A  very important aspect of the meaning of Keva is elaborated upon here in the Midrash Avot De’Rabi Natan. In the view of Avot De’Rabi Natan, the meaning of Keva here is steady in the way it is both preached and practiced. There are people who instruct Torah in one way but then do it themselves in another way.

“Speak little, but do much”—words have the power to change the word. Few, if any, people in the world attribute as much importance to the power of speech as the Jewish faith does. The great Jewish convert Unkelos, whose Aramaic translation appears in every copy of the Chumash, translates the term “tzelem Elokim” (Beresheet 2:7) as “Nefesh Memalela—a speaking soul”. Speech is at the core of what makes us in the image of God.

The Torah commands us to speak the words of Torah day and night, teach it to our children, to pray, and there are several commandments in the Torah that require us to speak. So why does Shammai teach us here to speak little? Many of the Medieval civilizations divided our speech into various categories. When it comes to talking, there is talking that is meant to express knowledge, talking that is meant to express feelings, and talking that is meant to express plans. The speaking Shamai is referring to here is the latter kind, one that expresses our plans to carry out a certain action. King Solomon (Kohelet 5:4) states: “It is better that you vow not, than that you vow and do not pay it.” If you intend on doing something, just do it. Do not announce it to the world and talk about it; just go on and do it. Interestingly, a study led by Peter M. Gollwitzer published in 2009 resulted in a paper titled “When Intentions Go Public: Does Social Reality Widen the Intention-Behavior Gap?” The paper found that announcing our intentions to achieve a certain goal makes us less likely to go on to achieve that goal. The mental high we experience from just talking about what we want to achieve, reduces our brain’s need to actually go on and achieve the reward our brain will get from going on to achieve it. This adds urgency to Shammai’s words: “Speak little, and do much.” Do not tell the world about what you intend to achieve–just go on and achieve it. 

“Receive all people with a pleasant countenance”–both terms mentioned here are unusual to the Mishna. “Hevey Mekabel–Receive all men” is a unique term implying that the message of this Mishna refers to a specific situation in which you are the one receiving others who are approaching you. Although it should have said you should go show everyone a pleasant countenance, or should you just always have a pleasant countenance in general? 

Rabbi Ovadia of Bartenura and other commentaries here explain that this Mishna is telling us the proper way to receive guests in our home. Why does the Mishna need to tell us this? 

Heeding Shammai’s advice at the beginning of this Mishna–making sure our Torah study is the permanent or that we speak little and do much—runs the risk of socially separating ourselves. No, the Mishna is not here to tell us to leave our learning and good deeds and socialize with others, but it does tell us that if someone does come to us if we are able to host someone, then we must leave our silence and our learning, and give our fullest attention to the person in our presence. 

I was very blessed to know some great Torah scholars whose legendary commitment to devoting their time to learning Torah despite the most difficult circumstances. Yet when it came to welcoming someone to their home, attending to the needs of an individual in distress, or answering someone who had a personal question for them, they had left their learning and given their fullest attention to the person who came their way. One of these people was the late Rabbi Aharon Schechter, Rosh Yeshiva of Brooklyn’s Rabbi Chaim Berlin Yeshiva. While he devoted a great deal of his time to Torah learning, he would always ask those who came to meet him as to whom they were, where they came from, what can be done to help them, and so on.

I was also blessed to speak a few times to Rabbi Michel Yehuda Lefkowitz, head of the Ponivezh Yeshiva Le’tzeirim. Reb Michel Yehuda was one of the few children actually born in the town of Volozhin, where my great-grandfather studied in Yeshiva. Every day, he would sit in his home in the Israeli city of Bnei Brak, studying Torah with an open door. The reason the door was open was because it meant that anyone who wanted to talk to him was welcome to do so. He would remain immersed in Torah study for as long as he can, yet when someone needed a rabbi they can talk to, they would simply open his door, be greeted with his pleasant countenance, the rabbi would listen and discuss with the person whatever was on his heart. Following this Mishna, Torah study was Rabbi Lefkowitz’s most permanent engagement, he said little and did a lot, yet when someone would come to visit him, while his Gemara or other Torah related volume would remain open, he would smile, welcome the person and speak to that person with patience. 

Another great scholar I was blessed to see embody this meaning of the Mishna was the Chief Justice of Jerusalem’s High Rabbinical Court, the late Rabbi Zalman Nechemya Goldberg. Rabbi Goldberg was born in the city of Minsk in 1931. His family fled the city due to Soviet religious persecution. From there, they moved to Riga, Latvia, and then to Israel in 1936, where he spent the rest of his life immersed in Torah study. Despite his overwhelming schedule as a rabbinic judge, head of a Yeshiva, and a great Torah scholar, he still received everyone with a pleasant countenance. I was lucky to eat at his home and see how he welcomed every guest, and when it was time to leave, I left with cakes and cookies for the way home. Yes, Torah should be our most central occupation, speaking excessively goes against the Torah way, yet when we encounter others we must pause that approach. We must welcome them, be kind to them, smile at them, and do everything we can to make them comfortable.