Being a Mensch
The sage Hillel once taught, “In a place where there are no anashim, strive to be an ish” (Pirkei Avot 2:5). Although the simple meaning of ish (plural anashim) appears to be “man”, in many contexts it reads more like what we mean when we use the Yiddish equivalent, a mensch. In one sense, this teaching insists that we should be good people with character and integrity, even if we are surrounded by hypocritical, self-serving, disingenuous, and downright awful detriments to the category “human”. In other words, “when they go low, we go high” (Michelle Obama). That on its own is a deep and often difficult spiritual practice.
There’s another application of Hillel’s teaching, though, that I also find valuable. Elsewhere in the Talmud, two other sages expand on the same concept. Echoing Hillel, Bar Kappara teaches, “where there is no gvar (Aramaic equivalent of ish), there be a gvar. Abaye said: Infer from this that where there [already] is a gvar, there don’t be a gvar!” (Talmud Bavli, Berakhot 63a).
Now obviously, there is no maximum quota of menschen in a room - we need all the good, decent people we can find! So instead, Bar Kappara and Abaye seem to be identifying the role of the gvar as filling a singular necessity. In other words, you don’t need too many cooks in the kitchen. If someone is already doing the job, find a different niche in which to make your contribution.
As we read the stories of the Jewish matriarchs and patriarchs, the early generations are characterized by divergence and exclusion. Abraham leaves his family of origin, then ultimately banishes his son Ishmael in favor of Isaac. Sarah finds she cannot tolerate Hagar’s presence as a competitive matriarch either. There is one favored role, and no other options within the family structure that the narrative centers. Isaac and Rebekah too reject Esau in favor of Jacob.
But Jacob starts a family that for all its tensions, holds a glimmer of hope that divergence won’t lead to exclusion, but that diversity can be held together within the family structure. Rachel, Leah, Bilhah, and Zilpah (the four women who bring to life the twelve tribal ancestors) hold uneasy and difficult relationships to each other, but nevertheless claim their own contributions to the larger whole. The final saga of Genesis follows the enmity between the twelve brothers, as Joseph dreams of an elevated and favored role. But this week, the drama resolves into reconciliation, as Joseph understands his role as only being possible through how the brothers acted. In effect, God had them working as a team, even if they thought they hated each other. The brothers cautiously lean into their own strengths and passions, and ultimately this full ecosystem of different roles and responsibilities creates the foundation for what will become am yisrael, the nation of Israel.
Judah in particular finally realizes that an ish / gvar is lacking in advocating for his brother Benjamin to Joseph, who is still disguised as a powerful Egyptian. The parashah opens: “Then Judah approached [Joseph], and said…” (Genesis 44:18). A midrash comments on the inner dynamics of “approach” with an extraordinary parable:
“Then Judah approached [Joseph]” (Genesis 44:18). It is written, “Counsel is like deep waters in the heart of a person, and a person of understanding will draw them forth” (Proverbs 20:5). [A parable] to a deep well filled with cold [water] - its water was cool and good, but no creature was able to drink from it. Then someone came and tied a rope to a rope and a string to a string and a cord to a cord, and drew from [the well] and drank. Everyone started drawing from it and drinking. Similarly, Judah did not cease responding to Joseph point by point until he learned what was in his heart. (Bereishit Rabbah 93:4)
Judah’s approach doesn’t just open up an authentic and deep connection to Joseph, according to the image of the well that no one could access. In establishing the connection, Judah makes it possible for future connection to keep happening with everyone. He is, in a sense, the only one who could have opened Joseph’s heart to forgiveness and reconciliation. But once he does, he enables that possibility for everyone else as well. Judah is the ish who in acting where there was no other ish broadens the imagination, enables widespread access and inclusion, and shifts the paradigm altogether. Once he does that, an ish isn’t required anymore for this particular situation.
But there are always places of problem where an ish is needed, to see something differently, to solve something unexpectedly, to imagine radical alternatives.
To be a poet, artist, engineer, attentive listener, dreamer, tinkerer, yourself.
A related midrash (Song of Songs Rabbah 1:1:8) expands on the theme:
A castle where people kept getting lost, until one person tied a string along the right path. Then everyone could find their way.
A thicket of reeds that no one could enter, until someone cut them down with a scythe. (The environmental ethics of this are another matter.)
A large basket filled with good stuff, but no handle. Someone needed to invent the handle!
A large jug with boiling water, but no handle. (Seems like the previous inventor could have stuck around a bit longer…)
All of these examples are understood by the midrash to be analogies for how King Solomon taught Torah. He discovered some new way to use or access Jewish wisdom, which opened the Torah for everyone who followed.
Each analogy addresses either access to a place (to a pit, castle, thicket of reeds) or a source of nourishment (water, food). Where do you need to go in the coming year? What nourishment will you seek? And how might you fill your cup in a way that creates overflowing possibility for others as well? In a world where there are not enough anashim - people solving problems and making the world better for everyone - I am grateful to be in community with so many anashim - each one of you a mensch in a totally unique way.
Shabbat shalom!
