Bava Metzia 86
Our Gemara on amud aleph lists a series of notable sages whose lifetimes and careers embodied a close of an era.
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi and Rabbi Nasan are the end of the Mishna, i.e., the last of the Tana’im, the redactors of the Mishna. Rav Ashi and Ravina are the end of instruction, i.e., the end of the period of the Amora’im, the redacting of the Talmud, which occurred after the period of the Tana’im.
There is something about the idea of pairs. The Megaleh Amukos (Va’Eschanan 1) notes that most of the sages listed in the beginning of Pirkei Avos also seem to come in pairs. He goes as far as to use that idea to deepen Moshe Rabbeinu’s argument to G-d to enter the Promised Land. According to this idea, Moshe wasn’t asking to hold back Yehoshua from his promotion and destiny as leader of the Jewish people. Instead, he just wanted to remain a leader as well, and they would follow the model of pairs which seemed to be the prevalent system.
What is the value of a paired leadership? On the one hand, we have the aphorism expressed by the moon at the dawn of creation: “Is it possible for two kings to serve with one crown?” (Chullin 60b). And yet the most fundamental unit of humanity, and the model for all relations, begins with a pair. Husband and wife, who become mother and father. Pairing offers many advantages: Company and support, as well as perspective from someone who knows you well enough but also can be more objective about matters when personal bias is powerful. This latter point is known in the psychological literature as complementarity, where differences in style and perception act as parts of a more complete whole, instead of as frustrations.
We all know this to be true, and there is no shortage of psychological books on how best to use these differences and bridge gaps in emotional language, affect, and cognitive style. I would like to focus on one interesting discovery about complementarity by researcher Vanessa K. Bohns and her team (published in Social Cognition, Vol. 31, No. 1, 2013). What the researchers found was that marital harmony does indeed depend on shared goals, and in that way, lack of congruence leads to dissatisfaction. However, once the goal is agreed upon, complementary and different self-regulation styles actually promote more success and satisfaction.
In plain English, there are people who are more comfortable with risk, and others with security. To succeed in most goals, ranging broadly from parenting to investing, there needs to be a balance of risk-taking and caution. If the goal is shared, the means to accomplish it, and the amount of risk versus security measures, can be dynamically adjusted based on the different perspectives that each person brings to the table. When one partner is being overly timid, the risk-taker can confront and/or take the lead in certain areas. Yet if the risk taker is over-exposing the pair to danger, the security-minded person can balance this out. That is why major financial decisions should be made as a team, and if one partner sees an opportunity and the other a foolish risk, the decision needs to be discussed carefully, with respect. Each person is doing their job so to speak, but it is only a half-job if they do not allow for cross influence.
This idea has implications for every aspect of relationships and parenting. First establish a degree of goal congruence, so you are both able to aim in the same direction. Then notice how you each manage regulation of risk. For example, some parents might have the same goal to raise a child who is not selfish; other parents might have a goal of promoting confidence; while a third set of parents may prioritize raising a child who pursues excellence. The primary goal of what the chinuch is supposed to accomplish should be in harmony.
After that, methods may vary greatly. One parent may be more afraid that the child will not feel cared for, and thus take a softer approach. Another parent may believe the child must be challenged and held accountable. Many struggles happen on this continuum. It is important to first make sure that the goal is agreed upon, and then ongoing dialogue needs to happen where the vigilant party and the more risk-taking party can continuously work together in a complementary fashion.
It is conjecture, but perhaps those great teams of rabbis – Shammai and Hillel, Ravina and Rav Ashi, and many others – represented different degrees of regulation of vigilance versus action, and their ability to work together and counterbalance offered the best leadership because the goals were the same.
Don’t Get Hit With A Big Bill at the End of Your Stay
Bava Metzia 88
Our Gemara on amud beis references the biblical directive (Devarim 23:25) to allow a field laborer to eat from the food as he is harvesting, so long as he does not abuse the privilege by hoarding:
“When you enter a fellow [Israelite]’s vineyard, you may eat as many grapes as you want, until you are full, but you must not put any in your vessel.”
Some of the more mystical commentaries read into this verse a metaphor about life’s pleasures and the afterworld. (See Likkutei Moharan 257 and Aderes Eliyahu on Ki Tetzeh 12.) Life is the vineyard, G-d is the landlord, and we are the laborers. G-d allows us to enjoy the fruits of our labor, to some extent in this world, but we must always keep in mind that “You must not put any in your vessel.” That is, “You cannot take it with you.” Or as it says in Tehillim (49:18): “For when he dies he can take none of it along; his goods cannot follow him down.”
In the prior Daf Yomi cycle, Rav Shalom Rosner in his shiur related this verse to Koheles Rabbah (5:14), which offers a parable about a fox that wanted to squeeze through a small hole in the fence to enter an orchard. The too-clever fox starves himself so he is thin enough to fit through the hole. He then gorges himself to satisfaction, only to discover that he is too fat to squeeze himself out. In the end, he has to starve himself to leave, and he is back to where he started. Of course, this is a metaphor about everything in this world. The enjoyment is temporary and we lose it all when we need to leave. It is also Pharaoh’s dream – the seven skinny cows looked the same, despite having just eaten the seven fat cows.
Rabbi Mordechai Elefant, the late rosh yeshiva and founder of the ITRI yeshiva, dictated a candid memoir of his eclectic life experiences as a rosh yeshiva, investor-entrepreneur, and fundraiser. His travels took him far and wide, as he engaged with fellow roshei yeshiva but also secular statesmen, and frankly, and assorted famous and not-so-famous shady characters in his various efforts on behalf of his yeshiva and other causes. (You can download this fascinating read at: https://forum.otzar.org/download/file.php?id=88463 This is no hagiographic exercise. It’s at once inspiring, disturbing, and brutally honest.) He relates a remarkable story that is apropos to this parable:
I walked in one morning and saw Rav Leib Malin himself, repairing a toilet. He noticed the look on my face and realized that I thought that what he was doing was not in keeping with his dignity. He sat me down and told me the secret of his life. He said, “Let me tell you something I heard in the name of Rav Simcha Zissel of Kelm: ‘G-d keeps very exact accounts of what we take from this world. We don’t get anything for free, other than life itself. Any person who is the least bit honest with himself understands how unworthy he is. At the same time he’s running up a big debt. Nothing is free – not a sip of water, not a breath of air. How do we stand a chance?
‘There’s only one way. You have to view life as a big, luxury hotel. They’re charging you left and right. It’s great, but there’s going to be a huge bill when you check out. There’s only one guy who enjoys the delights of the hotel without paying. That’s the waiter. The waiter is devoted to serving others. He’s always smiling and ready to help. He is at the beck and call of the guests. He runs to help one, and then runs to help the other. But when he takes a break, he can go into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich with two thick steaks in it. Nobody looks, nobody cares, nobody charges him. That’s what you have to do. Be a waiter. Devote your life to serving others. Do whatever has to be done then at the end you won’t be hit with a big tab.’”
