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Bag Bag turns Torah

What kind of tree is this? Keep reading to find out.

I have to admit I picked studying this mishnah of Pirkei Avot because of the humorous name, Bag-Bag. The next mishnah has a guy named He He. Did the mishnah mean to be funny?

25. Ben Bag-Bag used to say of the Torah: Turn it and turn it again, for everything is in it. Pore over it, and wax gray and old over it. Stir not from it for you can have no better rule than it.

בן בגבג אומר, הפוך בה והפך בה, והגי בה דכולא בה, ובה תחזי, סיב ובלי בה; ומינה לא תזוז, שאין לך מידה טובה יותר ממנה

Irving Bunim, in his book Ethics from Sinai, tells us that Ben Bag-Bag and Ben He He were proselytes, converts to Judaism. But perhaps it is only to my ears that the names sound humorous or sing-song. According to the commentator Kehati, if you add the letters Beit(2) and Gimel(3) —the letters in Bag—you get 5, the same as amount as Heh. The reason why they are given names with a Heh is to compare them to Abraham and Sarah, who both had ‘Heh’s added to their names when they took Judaism upon themselves (Abraham used to be Avram and Sarah used to be Sarai).

So, what does this mean, turn the Torah? We do turn it a bit in the synagogue each week, as the Torah portion of the week is read, and by the end of the cycle, in September, we have turned all the way to Devarim, the fifth and last book of the Torah.

Irving Bunim relates:

If you can, visit the Rare Book Room of the New York Public Library. In a special glass case lies a copy of the Gutenberg Bible, one of the most valuable printed books in the world, open to some page. Why?— it is the best way to keep the precious book from deteriorating, by exposing a different page every day.

So perhaps, Bunim explains, we should keep the Torah fresh in our minds by turning its pages each day.

He then explores a different way to look at this turning:

When you find two conflicting opinions in your Torah study, turn from one view to the other, and consider each separately, to reach as full an understanding as possible of both sides…A warning lies in these words, not to forsake any part of the Torah after a cursory examination, because it is too easy and we already know it, or worse, because it seems illogical or unreasonable. Turn to it again and again.

In Rashi one can find a comparison of a fig tree, the type of tree in the top photo, to Torah. Rashi quotes Eruvin 54:2 that says “Why is a fig tree like Torah?” The figs on a tree don’t ripen all at once but rather a few at a time, so every time one looks, one might find a new fig. Thus it is with learning Torah; each time, one may find something new.

And just one original thought here on my own: the language of the mishnah is Haphoch or to change, and it is similar to the language of Purim, when we say V’nahapoch, or everything should be changed around (in the Purim story, Haman gets hung on the tree instead of Mordechai, for example). So now that we are in the Three Weeks, a time of sadness when we mourn Jewish losses, perhaps we can hope for things to be changed about and to have this become a time of joy and redemption.

A summary of Pirkei Avot posts on Ilana-Davita’s blog

Filed Under: Jewish by Leora on July 25, 2008 Comments (6)

Jerusalem in Ruins

by Leora

Over 2000 years ago, Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian forces breached the walls of Jerusalem after many years of siege. So today observant Jews around the world fast, a fast called the 17th of Tammuz. It is hard for me to be sad on this day; my family greatly enjoyed visiting Jerusalem recently, and I had the opportunity to photograph ruins such as this one. But I can be contemplative. Yes, contemplative, that is a good word for today.

Jameel has more bad stuff that happened today. And hope for redemption.

Filed Under: Israel, Jewish, photography by Leora on July 20, 2008 Comments (8)

Learn As a Child

by Leora

Pirkei Avot

Pirkei Avot 4:25 —


Elisha ben Avuyah used to say: He who learns as a child, what is he like? He is like ink written on new paper. He who learns as an old man, what is he like? He is like ink written on blotting paper.
ד,כה  [כ] אלישע בן אבא אומר, הלמד תורה ילד, למה הוא דומה–לדיו כתובה על נייר חדש; והלמד זקן, למה הוא דומה–לדיו כתובה על נייר מחוק

This part of a series of posts about Pirkei Avot. Ilana-Davita posted a summary of this summer’s posts (so far).

Approaches to Learning

One will often read a post and say, wow, that person knows a lot. I could never write that. I don’t have that kind of knowledge. What I would like to share with you through this post is the process I went through to write this post.

Step One: I decide I will find a mishnah that to which I find some emotional connection. I am reading a Jewish newspaper (can’t remember which one) at my in-laws, and I find a column about the above mishnah. It evokes some feeling for me, though all I can remember from the newspaper column is that kids are like sponges, and it is easier to learn as a youngster because they are like empty slates, waiting to be filled with information.

A quote by George Bernard Shaw comes to mind:

“Youth is wasted on the young. “


Does it fit here?  Maybe, in that older people are usually more appreciative of knowledge, too bad it’s easier to learn when young.
Step Two:  I make sure I know what all the words mean, both in English and in Hebrew.  
דיו=ink

מחוק is like מחק
Mahak means to erase.  Mahuk means erased.  The translation above says “blotting.”  Other translations say “blotted” or “smudged”.
I look up mahak, and I find Balashon’s post.  He quotes another use of the word “mahuk”, where it means erased.  It doesn’t help me come up with something to say about how learning as an older person is like writing on blotting paper.
Step Three: I get help.
Across the Atlantic Ocean in France, Ilana-Davita looks up the mishnah in one of her books.  She emails me it is translated as “palimpsest.”  I don’t know what that means.  (Do you?)
If I understand Rambam correctly (the only commentator for this mishnah in

my commented version of PA), when you get old your mind is obfuscated by

other things that you have already learned so learning is not as easy.
I had read it slightly differently. When you are older, your mind is like

palimpsest in that the different strata of learning are still underlying;

they have not completely disappeared. The new does not completely replace

the old.
However it does not have to be negative (Rambam’s commentary sounded

negative as regards older people, here at least) and might just reflect

different understandings and experiences at different stages of one’s life

that have accumulated in a person’s mind.
Does it make sense?

She also sends me the Wikipedia link for palimpsest.
My husband also helps out, as we learn some of the perushim, commentators, on this mishnah.  Here’s a comment by Kehati:  Learning as a child is like engraving in stone; learning as as an adult is like engraving in the sand.
Step Four:  I take what I’ve learned and state a problem that I have with the text.

I can understand how a youth can easily absorb the Torah when young.  Do you ever ask your children to memorize a number, because your brain is too cluttered to think straight?  Another example:  we just got new cell phones, the same model, one for me, one for my husband, one for Eldest son.  My husband, who spends long days at a brain-intensive job, asks Eldest son to teach him how to use the phone.
However, I have a hard time grasping why learning as an adult is like writing on blotting paper.  Ilana-Davita suggestion to use the word “palimpsest” means that learning as an adult is like adding one more layer to many layers of learning.
But I want more.
Step Five: One could argue that it’s easier to learn as an adult, because an adult often wants to learn, whereas a kid may prefer to play on the computer, hang out with friends, or just laze around.  No coercion involved with older folks.
Once again, I visit my in-laws.  What do I find on their bookshelf but a copy of the three volume Ethics from Sinai by Irving Bunim, copyright 1966.  I ask to borrow Volumn II, the one with my mishnah, and my generous mother-in-law says take the whole set, they have so many books already.
Here’s what Irving Bunim wrote about my mishnah:
Think young.  Turn over a new leaf and be receptive to new thoughts, eager for new understanding that will bring spiritual growth.
On the other hand, if you learn as an old man, with the attitude that mental growth, like physical growth, is no longer possible, then you will indeed be a page already covered with writing: erase it as you will, it can no longer receive new writing well.
So, Irving Bunim is suggesting that you should think like you are young, even if you are not.
Conclusion
So, why do you think learning as an old man is like ink on blotting paper?  Did this post help you learn the mishnah?   Can you think like you are young, and learn some Torah, find some room for it on top of all the clutter in your brain?  If you like learning Torah, perhaps you can share with us some of your approaches to learning.  Hope you got something out of reading today’s long post!



	

		

		Filed Under: Jewish by Leora on July 16, 2008 Comments (6)

 

	

		
		
	
	 

		Baruch Dayan Emet

		by Leora

		 

			Baruch Dayan Emet (blessed is the true judge): this is the phrase we observant Jews are supposed to say when we hear someone has passed away.  The truth is, I often think of it afterwards.  I am usually rather shocked when I hear the news, even if it is someone who has been sick for a long time.
This afternoon I learned that Rabbi Levi Meier died after a long battle with cancer.  The family is sitting shiva in California.
When studying the Book of Ruth, I wrote about Rabbi Levi Meier’s book, Second Chances: Transforming Bitterness Into Hope.  He was the author of other books, including one that I own, Ancient Secrets: Using the Stories of the Bible to Improve Our Everyday Lives.  In that book he talks about his work as a hospital chaplain and his experiences counseling people with terminal illness.
I only met Rabbi Levi Meier a few times, briefly, but I knew his mother, z”l, may her memory be a blessing, well.  She made the best homemade gefilte fish I have ever tasted.

		

	

		

		Filed Under: Jewish, family by Leora on July 14, 2008 Comments (2)  
		

			

		

				
		

	

	
 

	

		
		
	
	 

		Fuzzy Wuzzy wuz a Hyrax

		by Leora

		 

			

When I photographed this guy in early July at Ein Gedi, I didn’t know what he was.  Cute, that’s for sure.  Turns out he’s (or she?) a hyrax, an animal that frequents these parts.
Does this look at all like a bunny rabbit?  Because in Modern Hebrew, a shafan is a rabbit.  But in ancient Hebrew, the word shafan probably applies to a hyrax.  See Psalms 104:18 —
The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the conies.

הָרִים הַגְּבֹהִים, לַיְּעֵלִים; סְלָעִים, מַחְסֶה לַשְׁפַנִּים
Conies are the translation of shefanim and supposedly refer to these furry fellows.
For more on nature at the Dead Sea, see:

Ibex
Tristram’s Grackle (a bird)

If you like animal photos, see Dina on Parshat Balak.
And to read more inspiring posts by other inspiring bloggers, visit Jack’s Haveil Havalim #173.

		

	

		

		Filed Under: Israel, parsha by Leora on July 13, 2008 Comments (8)  
		

			

		

				
		

	

	
 

	

		
		
	
	 

		Tsefat Photos

		by Leora

		 

			We visited Tsefat (alternative spellings: Safed, Safad, Tsfat, Tzfat, Tzefat) about two weeks ago.  It is my favorite city in Israel: spiritual, up in the clouds (it’s on a hill), artistic, architecturally interesting, walkable, colorful.  Lecha Dodi, the lovely prayer welcoming the Sabbath queen that we sing every Friday night, was composed by Rabbi Shlomo Halevy Alkabetz in the 16th century in Tsefat.


Here’s a welcoming sign to the old section on the busy main street at the top of the city’s hill.




Ari Synagogue (Ashkenazi)


Abuhav Synagogue on the right: lots of blue here.  Blue is a recurring theme in Tsefat.  







My husband and middle son went for a dip in the mikvah of the Ari.
Stay tuned for a post about the simple, delicious, kosher, healthy food that we ate in a little square in Tsefat.  Unfortunately, Eldest son, same son who does not like garlic, didn’t care for Tsefat because he found it smelly.

		

	

		

		Filed Under: Israel, Jewish, photography by Leora on July 9, 2008 Comments (8)  
		

			

		

				
		

	

	
 

	

		
		
	
		

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