The art of succinct statements

Pirkei Avot: Perush Yisraeli Hadash (Pirkei Avot: A New Israeli Commentary ), edited and annotated by Avigdor ShinanYedioth Ahronoth Books and the Avi Chai Foundation, 235 pages, NIS 128

"A fundamental challenge facing our generation -- living in a country that also happens to be our ances­tral homeland -- is figuring out the proper ways to preserve the spiritual and moral image of the individual and society in Israel." Does this not sound very contemporary and disturbingly relevant? Yet these words were written in 1972 by Prof. Ben-Zion Dinur, who served as Israel's third minister of education (1951-1955 ) and who initiated the draft­ing of the Martyrs' and Heroes' Remembrance Law in 1953, which officially established Yad Vashem. That same year, Dinur was also responsible for the law that established public education in Israel, in the wake of which the various ideological streams were united into a single school system.

Dinur made the preceding observation in the introduction to his annotated and explicated edition of Tractate Avot of the Mishna, that is, Pirkei Avot (Sayings of the Fathers ). He noted that he had begun work on the edition back in 1917-18, when he was teaching at the Tarbut teachers training college in Kiev. He continued his efforts when he served as a lecturer at the Hebrew teachers seminar in Jerusalem (today the David Yellin Teachers College). Which is to say that Israel once had a liberal-minded education minis­ter, one who had actually taught (for years ) in teachers training schools. He diligently prepared his commentaries from a his­torical perspective, because he believed that knowledge of their context was crucial for under­standing their content. Imagine if we had cabinet ministers like that today.

Thirst for preservation

Israel is truly a country of paradoxes. On the one hand, all Israelis complain -- about the edu­cation system's low standards, the fact that members of the younger generation do not speak proper Hebrew, or the fact that the lan­guage of the Bible (not to mention the Talmud ) is virtually a foreign tongue for contemporary Israeli children and youth. On the other hand, Shinan's new commentary on Pirkei Avot has featured prom­inently on the Israeli bestseller lists for weeks. I can only wonder what Dinur would have thought of that.

How can one explain the suc­cess of a volume such as Shinan's? Is it due to the ever-growing thirst to "preserve the spiritual and moral image of the individual and society in Israel," as Dinur had it? Or is it due to the acces­sible writing style of the editor, a professor of Hebrew literature at the Hebrew University? Or, per­haps native Hebrew speakers are attracted to this edition because Shinan chose to devote much at­tention to the Hebrew text and to connecting the tractate to names, places and landscapes in Israel, while sufficing with only a brief survey of Pirkei Avot's tradi­tional commentators? Certainly, one factor behind the volume's popularity is the abundance of artwork, carefully and wisely chosen by David Sperber, with the goal of not only providing an aesthetic accompaniment to the text, but also -- and perhaps main­ly -- to foster an ongoing dialogue between the text and contempo­rary readers.

It is interesting that the num­ber of artists and works of art in the book nearly equals the num­ber of sages whose words appear in Pirkei Avot. The book's success can also be attributed to its el­egant design, which is the work of Dov Abramson: easy-to-read fonts printed in green and pages laid out in columns, inviting readers to stroll briskly through the text.

Phrases from Pirkei Avot have penetrated deep into modern Hebrew, even if many of those doing the quoting are unaware of where they first appeared. I call this phenomenon "misliteracy," as opposed to simple illiteracy, because such individuals know the text by heart, even if they are unfamiliar with its written form or origin. Many Hebrew speakers in Israel might quote the phrase, "Love work, and hate lordship," but few know its continuation, "and make not thyself known to the government" (chapter 1:10 ) [English translations from Charles Taylor's 1897 edition]. Even if they are receptive to the language of the phrase, they might not necessarily have read the tractate in its entirety.

Much-needed wisdom

This new edition appears at a time when many of our leaders are in dire need of the wisdom it purveys. The late Levi Eshkol be­longed to the generation that was familiar with the phrase, "The ledger is open and the hand is writing," but many of the Young Turks working at the Finance Ministry today, who may well believe that "the workmen are sluggish," have no idea that "the master of the house is urgent" (2:18). We are part of a generation that has become cut off from its cultural roots; we must carry out the difficult work to amend the situation.

The edition is enhanced by its intelligent format, such as assign­ing a double page to each verse, regardless of its content, length or quality; thus, limits have been placed on the text and commen­tary, making it easier for read­ers to browse. At the same time, it should be recalled that this is one of the most beautiful texts in Jewish tradition: It is succinctly stated wisdom representing the thoughts of several generations, there are six chapters for each of the week's workdays, and the pro­found statements are so concisely accessible they sound as if they were produced by a gifted copy­writer. Deep truths are embedded in the tractate's terse assertions.

In certain periods, Pirkei Avot was published alongside Tractate Nezikin (legal damages ), and there are those who consider Pirkei Avot's teachings to be guidelines for leadership that can serve officials, law enforcers and legislators, as well as students. Today's readers will certainly be impressed by the tractate's rel­evance for events in the contem­porary public arena. Consider, for example, Simeon ben Shetach's words, "Make full examination of the witnesses; but be guarded in thy words, perchance from them they may learn to lie" (1:9 ).

Chapters one and two of Pirkei Avot present the statements of pairs of rabbinical scholars who lived during the two centuries that preceded the Common Era. This is a captivating idea that should be adopted today. First, by presenting the sages in pairs, we learn that there are always two sides to any coin. Second, as they engage in dialogue, readers them­selves sense that they too are in­vited to join the conversation.

As one would expect from an edition for the 21st century, each double page spread provides de­tails on the lives of the rabbinical scholars quoted in the particular verse, details that make the sages come alive and become more rel­evant to readers.

This contemporary edition is part and parcel of attempts made in recent years to appropriate the Sayings of the Fathers -- for instance, by the women who pro­duced "Sayings of the Mothers: Israeli Women Respond to Pirkei Avot" in 2002 (a volume edited by Yael Mishali, in which I myself was a participant ). It should be fol­lowed up -- for example, by setting the text to music, something that would do much to help our genera­tion rediscover its roots. Or, a chil­dren's version set to music and il­lustrated could be an important part of an Israeli child's learning -- without being didactic or overly "educational." Surely, one expla­nation as to why this new commen­tary on Pirkei Avot has become a bestseller is that it builds a bridge. A two-way bridge upon which one can move back and forth between art forms, between contemporary and Mishnaic Hebrew. A bridge, as Rabbi Nachman would have it, on which one will not have to fear at all.

Dr. Zvia Walden teaches psycholinguistics at Beit Berl Teachers Training College, where she serves as a senior lecturer.

Haaretz Books Supplement, November 2009