Nature vs. Torah

Jeremy Benstein

Rabbi Ya'akov omer: hamhaleikh ba-derekh ve-shoneh, u-mafsik mi-mishnato ve-omer:
mah na'eh ilan zeh, mah na'eh nir zeh, ma'aleh alav ha-katuv ke-ilu mithayeiv be-nafsho
(Pirkei Avot 3:7)

Rabbi Ya'akov says: One, who while walking along the way, reviewing his studies, breaks
off from his study and says, "How beautiful is that tree! How beautiful is that plowed field!"
Scripture regards him as if he has forfeited his soul. (Ethics of the Fathers 3:7)

If one is a Jew with strong environmental concerns, one is often led to study the Sources with
an eye for those particular teachings that are inspirational for -- or at least compatible with --
one's own predetermined "green" positions, and thus avoid challenging oneself with texts
that don't fit current environmental wisdom. All three sides -- Judaism, environmentalism,
and ourselves -- suffer from this sort of superficial understanding of what it means to learn
Torah -- or to interact with any age-old wisdom tradition. This essay looks at one of those
"tough" traditional texts, one that is seemingly antithetical to any sort of sympathetic
portrayal of the natural world, along with the ancient and modern commentaries that show
how Jews have grappled with it in different generations, in an attempt to understand what it
may be saying to us, in our generation.

The passage has frequently been understood to teach a rejection of the (natural) World, and
any appreciation of it, in the face of the supreme-- and ultimately, exclusive -- value of Torah
study. As such, it serves as a central prooftext for the claim that Judaism, at its core, is
spiritually alienated from Nature; that Jewish tradition stands squarely behind Revelation
(Torah) as its central religious category of experience, and source of Truth, while Creation
(Nature) is seen as a potentially dangerous competitor, as an alternative, and therefore
heretical, source of inspiration, or Truth(s), or experience of the Divine, whose seductive
charms must be contained, or in this case, vehemently censured.

The text is a saying from that part of the Mishna known as "Pirkei Avot", literally "Chapters
of the Fathers," often translated as "Ethics of the Fathers." Avot, as it is also called, is a
collection of ethical maxims and moral teachings, of a non-legally binding, nature ascribed
to the tannaim, the sages of the Mishnaic period, who lived roughly from around the turn of
the era, until c. 200 CE

The teaching, in the original Hebrew, heads this page, but the translation has been
deliberately omitted, ¹ since like most significant ancient sources, it cannot be rendered
simply or straightforwardly into modern English. Though the text is not particularly complex
or sophisticated in style, any single, "literal" translation will invariably miss allusions and
levels of meanings which not only deepen and enrich our understanding of the original, but
also occupied the traditional and modern commentators whose interpretations we also wish
to study. Therefore, this text, rather than translated, will be given a close reading, and
"discussed into English," to use Robert Frost's phrase, in an approach inspired by translations
of modern poetry. ²

This process will both facilitate the introduction of the commentaries (for while it is
well-known that every translation is, in fact, an interpretation, it is equally true that every
interpretation is a translation of sorts) and open up the range of possibilities in the text for
our own readings.

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The Text

Rabbi Ya'akov omer / Rabbi Ya'akov [Jacob] says... The first question we encounter is the
attribution of the teaching. Some manuscripts relate this saying in the name of R. Ya'akov,
some in the name of R Shim'on ³ This issue is not (just) a pedantic, academic one. It is
important to understand this saying -- which purportedly denigrates this material World, as
compared with the Eternal Torah-- in the wider context of the world view of the sage(s) who
allegedly uttered it. Rabbi Ya'akov is Ya'akov ben Korshai, a tanna (a sage of the mishnaic
period) of the fourth generation, who lived in the mid-second century, and was a member of
the Sanhedrin at Usha. He was a disciple of Rabbi Meir, a contemporary of Rabban Gamliel
II, and was chosen to be the tutor of the young Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi, the redactor of the
Mishna, and one of the giants of the period. ⁴ More important is Ya'akov ben Korshai's
family background: he was the grandson of the (in)famous apostate Elisha ben Abuya,
known as "Acher"-- "the other." The very scenario ⁵ which was reputed to have caused
Elisha ben Abuya to have lost his belief in God and in Divine justice, did not shake the faith
of his grandson, Rabbi Ya'akov, for it was his firm belief that the poor child who died,
though fulfilling two mitzvot which should have guaranteed him long life, would receive his
length of days and just rewards in the World to Come. This emphasis on the next world
seems to be a central axis of his thought, that ties into our mishna as well. Further along in
Pirke Avot, he is quoted as saying the following: "This world is like a vestibule to the world
to come; prepare yourself in the vestibule that you may enter into the (banqueting-) hall (4:l6)."
And: "Better is one hour of bliss of spirit in the world to come than all the life of this
world." (ibid., 17). It makes sense that our mishna came from the same mouth that spoke
these 'anti-this-worldly' teachings.

Were Rabbi Shim'on to have originated this saying, though, that too would be fitting. The
Rabbi Shim'on in question is none other than Rabbi Shim'on bar Yochai a contemporary of
Rabbi Ya'akov ben Korshai. He was one of the five remaining students of Rabbi Akiva who
survived the failure of the Bar Kochba revolt, and himself had to flee the Romans, and
eventually hide out in a cave. According to the talmudic account (T.B. Shabbat 33b) he
secluded himself, together with his son, for thirteen years, studying Torah day and night.
When they finally emerged, they saw people going about their daily affairs, plowing and
sowing, and not devoting themselves to Torah. They exclaimed: me-nihin hayyei olam
ve-oskim be-hayyei sha'ah? meaning, "they forsake eternal life (ie., Torah study and its
rewards), and devote themselves to temporal life?"

When their fiery gazes destroyed all they looked upon, God came to the aid of his Creation,
and their passionate devotion to divine Revelation notwithstanding, God rebuked them:
"Have you emerged only to destroy My World? Return to your cave!" ⁶ Elsewhere, in a
dispute about the value of labor, Rabbi Shim'on said: "If a person ploughs in the ploughing
season, and sows in the sowing season, and reaps in the reaping season, and threshes in the
threshing season, and winnows in the season of wind, what is to become of the Torah?" ⁷

For Rabbi Shim’on, Torah is an all-consuming and exclusive passion; any diversion, such as
taking care of one's physical needs (here, significantly, represented by agriculture, i.e., work
in Nature) is a subversion, and must be fought. His 'anti-this-worldliness' stems from
considerations very different from those of Rabbi Ya'akov's, but our mishna from Pirke Avot
dovetails with his value-system as well.

The above are just the briefest of thumbnail sketches of the sages involved and their beliefs,
but hopefully they serve to add some background, or flavor, to the saying under discussion.
In the end, we relate to a teaching on the basis of its contents, not on the basis of who it was
who taught it, but it is important (where possible) to be aware of the larger intellectual
context of the "life and times" of the relevant thinker(s), and the interrelationships among
their ideas and values. When this is ignored, or de-emphasized, as is all too often the case, it
is easy to forget that a given statement or teaching is the single voice of a particular sage, one
view among many.

A major point of this essay is to argue (by example) for taking voices like the one
represented by this mishna seriously because they are part of Jewish tradition -- but not
because they are (the whole of) Judaism. One need look no further than sections of the book
of Psalms, or Job, to discover other voices that speak about Nature in very different terms
from these. Part of the richness of Judaism -- and the excitement of Jewish learning -- is the
ongoing dialogue between the frequently very disparate voices of that tradition, a dialogue
which we shall soon see continues through to the present day.

Hamhaleikh ba-derekh / the walker on the road; he who walks by the way... Two things are
evident here: the mishna is referring to an individual (not a group), and that person is out of
doors, and in transit from one place to another. A good example of a talmudic-style question
that some commentators ask is: is this choice of phrasing be-davka? That is to say, is the
mishna referring specifically to an individual on the road, and therefore excluding a similar
occurrence that might happen to someone sitting under a tree, or at home? Or is this just
meant to be a general example, and apply in any situation? Several answers are discussed
below.

The other important thing to note is the clear allusion to the Biblical verse (Deut. 6:7):
ve-shinantam le-vanekha ve--dibarta bam . . . u--velekhtekha va-derekh . . . . / "and you shall
repeat them [these words] to your children, and speak of them... when you walk along the
way..." If this verse directly underlies our mishna, then the "peripatetic student" is not just
engaging in a rather unusual pastime, he is actually fulfilling a mitzvah.

Ve-shoneh-- and is studying; while reviewing his studies; repeating [his Torah tradition] ⁸
This verb is from the same root shanayim, shnei -- 'two, second,' that is, to do something a
second time, to repeat. It is predicated specifically on oral review or verbal rote learning. ⁹
The use of this single, particular word gives us a very concrete image, perhaps different from
what we imagined at first: our traveling learner is not walking around absent-mindedly with
his nose in a book, but rather taking advantage of some quiet time alone to go over what he
has learnt, what he is trying to memorize -- and very possibly fulfilling a mitzvah as well.

There is some discussion as to what is permissible subject-matter for the road, even whether
it is advisable to study while traveling at all. The conclusion in B.T. Ta'anit l0b is that rote
repetition (migras) is acceptable for wayfarers, but 'deep thought', or analysis (iyunei) is
potentially dangerous. The danger in excessive engrossment in one's studies is not being alert
to physical risks (of attack, or mishap) or simply losing one's way. The "danger" in being
diverted from one's studies, by what one sees along the way-- well, that's the subject of our
mishna. But this particular word makes it clear that the literal risk is not so much losing one's
train of thought, as actually forgetting the Torah that one is trying to learn.

Mafsik mi-mishnato ve-omer -- and ceases his repetition; breaks off his study; interrupts
his learning and says... The strong terminology here seems to imply that this interruption is
not a momentary lapse of attention, but a complete shift in the activity and mental state of
the subject. The late chief rabbi of England, Rabbi J. H. Hertz, who seems rather ill at ease
with the mishna as a whole in his commentary (Hertz, p. 53), interprets these words to mean:
"What is deprecated here is a willful distraction of the mind from Torah-meditation by the
surrounding scenery."

Mah na'eh ilan zeh --"How beautiful, or fine, is this tree!" The appreciation expressed here
seems to be clearly of an aesthetic nature. ¹⁰ Many commentators have pointed out that
there is a prescribed blessing that is to be recited at the sight of beautiful creatures (be-riyot
tovot) and beautiful trees (ilanot tovot) from T. B. Berachot 58b: Barukh she-kakhah lo
be-olamo --"Blessed is the One whose world is thus."¹¹ Some claim, therefore, that the
person who uttered these words was therefore engaging in an essentially praiseworthy
activity, of praising God's creation; while others point out that since the phrase here is not the
matbea berakhah, the set text of the blessing, as prescribed, the subject here is expressing
illegitimate (possibly heretical, at least frivolous) aesthetic expression, that is not
divinely-oriented. This will be expanded upon below.

Mah na'eh nir zeh -- "How beautiful, or fine, is this furrow; this plowed field." While many
translations have simply "field", this is inaccurate. As Rashi correctly points out, a nir is not
a sadeh, a field, it is a sadeh she-nihrash, a field that has been plowed, and made ready for
cultivation (see Jeremiah 4:3). This pinpoints the scene described in the mishna once again:
the student is not hiking through deep woods, but rather is walking along a country road,
through farmland, apparently before the planting. It is reasonable to assume that it is
springtime, which would mean the aforementioned tree is probably in bud (making it
particularly attractive) whether wild, or part of someone's orchard, as now seems likely.

It is also important to note that a furrow is a distinctly human creation, in contrast to the tree.
Some commentators make much of this point-- the divine creation together with the human. ¹²
Others point out, that while there is a blessing for the tree (even if our wayfarer only
alluded to it, but didn't actually recite it), there is none prescribed for seeing a plowed field,
no matter how attractive.

Ma'aleh alav ha-katuv -- Scripture accounts it to him, regards him, [such a person] is
considered by the Torah... This is another problematic part of our text. Invariably a
formulation such as this is accompanied by a proof-text, a verse cited to justify the
conclusion: "Scripture regards him..." But no verse is included here. Rashi claims that that
is strong enough evidence to doubt the actual phrasing of the mishna; some versions (see
Taylor, p. 48) in fact do omit the word ha-katuv --- "Scripture", which results in: "this
person is regarded as..."

Commentators have taken differing tacks: Herford wrote (p. 73) "it is hard to imagine what
text would support such a thesis"; likewise Hertz (loc. cit.): "No text is, or could well be,
quoted in support of this teaching." But earlier than either of them, the authors of the
Machzor Vitry, a prayer book composed in 11th-12th century France by followers of Rashi,
commented that there are a number of likely candidates: Proverbs 6:22, "when you walk it
will lead you;" the verse quoted above, Deut 6:7, "...when you walk along the way..." and
also Deut 4:9, "take utmost care, and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not
forget the things that you saw with your own eyes..."¹³ None of these verses is quite virulent
enough, though, to justify the harsh 'judgment' that follows.

Ke-ilu mithayeiv be-nafsho It is as if he ... Here we truly run into translation difficulties.
A survey of a dozen editions yields more than ten different renderings. The range of
possibilities includes: "were mortally guilty," ¹⁴ "sinned against his own soul," ¹⁵
"committed a capital offense," ¹⁶ "were guilty against his own soul," ¹⁷ 'were guilty
against himself;" ¹⁸ "has become liable for his life," ¹⁹ "were guilty of death," ²⁰ "had
incurred guilt [expiable] by his life," ²¹ "has forfeited his soul (life),"²² "were guilty of
deadly sin," ²³ "(has) hurt his own being." ²⁴ This listing is somewhat random-- there are
undoubtedly other permutations and nuances that are possible.

There are two main difficulties in this three-word phrase, and they are related. The first is the
significance of the modifier ke-ilu -- "as if". In a previous mishna (3:5) we are told that one
who stays awake (or awakens) at night, or travels alone, or turns his heart to idle matters,
that person has [actually] mithayeiv be-nafsho (choose one of the alternatives above). Why
the difference? Why is the 'punishment' (or judgment) for this apparent sin only "as if"? Is it
less serious? ²⁵ Are there mitigating circumstances?

The other obvious difficulty is trying to figure out exactly what that judgment is.
Le-hithayeiv is 'to become, or to be found, guilty (connected to hov, hayeiv), and by
extension, 'to sin (with respect to).'Nefesh' of course is 'soul,' but in pre-modern Hebrew it
also refers simply to 'self.' In the rest of the Mishna (outside of Pirke Avot), the phrase occurs
in three other places ²⁶, all of them in a strictly legal context. All have the force of "receive
the death penalty," hence also the rendering here "guilty of a capital offense," i.e., worthy of
death. But interpreting the guilt, or the risk (or the damage) involved as physical harm seems
excessively literal; perhaps this should be understood on a spiritual plane. ²⁷

The modifying ke-ilu -- "as if" certainly reinforces this (but in 3:5, without the modifier, the
implication seems just as clearly metaphoric -- nobody has been sentenced to death for
insomnia, or for a penchant for solo travel!). ²⁸ Therefore, in order to express the spiritual
nature of the statement, but also retain the legalistic sense of punishment (or loss), the
translation "has forfeited his soul" will be used.

This, then, is our reconstructed text:

Rabbi Ya'akov says: One, who while walking along the way, reviewing his studies, breaks off
from his study and says, 'How beautiful is that tree! How beautiful is that plowed field!'
Scripture regards him as if he has forfeited his soul.

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The Commentaries

Commentators over the centuries have related to a wide range of issues connected to our
mishna, many of which are beyond the scope of this essay. The focus in the following
selections will be the question of the relationship of Nature and its appreciation to Torah
study and religious experience. It is important to note, however, that certain commentators
did not see this as the central issue at all. For example, Shimon ben Tzemach Duran
(Spain, 1361-1444) wrote in his commentary Magen Avot:

And although in our passage the Sages speak specifically of the exclamation,
'How handsome is this tree, how handsome this field!'-- the same is true of
any other chatter. But the Sage is referring to something commonplace, for it
is customary for those who walk on the highway to talk of what they see along
the way. (in Goldin, p. 128).

Most, however, did relate specifically to the issue of Torah and Nature. Regarding the
question, we can discern three broad approaches in the classical and contemporary
traditional commentaries. ²⁹ All in some way 'justify' the mishna: that is to say, interpret the
text in such a way so as to extract a message that is acceptable (to them). None reject, or
negate the passage (as the Zionist Berdichevski did-- see below). The differences appear in
how they relate to Nature per se. The first is complete subordination-- to the point of
denigration-- of the value of Nature, and of appreciation for the works of Creation, in the
face of the supremacy of Revelation, and the study of Torah. Meiri (Menahem ben Solomon
HaMeiri - France, 1249-1306) considers such appreciation "vain" and "idle":

The reason for such strong condemnation is this: by [his] nature man is drawn
to vanity (hevlim) and idle matters (shehot batlot) [if he does not resist his
nature] he will be drawn on from such habits to throwing off the yoke of the
Torah completely. (in Goldin, p. 128.)

And Don Isaac Abarbanel, the great 15th century Spanish commentator, writes in his
commentary Nachalat Avot that material concerns such as this are "useless":

When a person who was walking along the way, and reviewing his studies,
stopped his studying in order to pay attention to things that are of no use (ein
ba-hem to'elet) then he forfeits his soul, because he ceased his study, and
made it secondary, peripheral (tapeil) and made the other, worldly, material
things (ha-devarim ha-gashmiyim) central (ikkar).

A second, more moderate-- and more prevalent-- approach also sees the acts of Creation as
subordinate to the words of Revelation, but recognizes the act of appreciation of those acts,
praising God for the divine handiwork, ³⁰ as correct and valuable in itself, but still not as
important as Torah study. Representatives of this approach among traditional commentators
are Bertinoro (Obadiah ben Abraham Bertinoro, Italy, 1470-1520):

And there are those who say that this (particular example) teaches us
something significant, that despite the fact that he would be brought to recite
a blessing-- "Blessed is the One who has such [beauty] in His world"--
nevertheless, he is accounted as if he forfeited his life, since he ceased his
studying.

and Rabbi Yitzchak Magriso, in the Me 'am Loez, an 18th century Ladino anthology of
commentary and stories (pp. 142-143):

The case which he is discussing is not that of a person who puts aside his
studies merely to engage in useless chatter, but to praise God for the beautiful
tree that he saw. Nonetheless, since this person has stopped studying, it is
counted as if he were engaging in useless speech, and it is considered a sin.
What one should do under the circumstances is complete the subject of his
study, and then praise God for the beautiful sight. From this one can see how
great is the sin of interrupting one's studies, since even praising God is
considered a waste of time. How much greater is the sin of abandoning one's
studies without good reason, for a real waste of time.

Modern commentators have also adopted this approach, which seems to afford a comfortable
'middle road,' by allowing affirmation of the World, without denying the traditional primacy
of Torah study. Reuven Bulka develops this point at length:

If, as has been posited in the previous mishna, all is God's, this would include
the heavens and the earth, nature, the trees, the fields. One can see in all of
this the greatness and majesty of God. Nevertheless, this should not develop
into an equation of sameness. There is profound significance in everything,
but not everything is the same. There is a scale of values; there are priorities
and levels of importance. One who is walking by the way in study and
interrupts the study to admire nature by saying "How beautiful is this tree!" or
another such statement which affirms the majesty of God in the world, has
made a priority substitution which is distorted. This distortion inheres in that
such an individual has seen fit to interrupt Torah study to admire nature.

Admiring nature is part of appreciating the beauty of the world, but not a
priority when juxtaposed with Torah study. Nature is God's work, but the
Torah is God's formula for life. Interrupting Torah to admire nature is a value
distortion.

The mishna ends by saying that the individual who makes the value distortion
is regarded by Scripture as having forfeited one's soul. It is unclear which
verse in Scripture is the prooftext for this. In all probability, it would seem
that Scripture in general makes this observation. It is in the very nature of the
importance of Scripture. One who denies Scripture's importance by placing
primacy on nature, by interrupting Torah meditation to admire nature,
Scripture itself sees this as a rejection of the very notion of Scripture's being
so vital to life, and being the most crucial of all human pursuits. Placing this
pursuit in a subordinate position to admiring nature denies the primary
importance of Scripture. It is as if one has forfeited one's soul, because in the
process of placing Torah and its values in a secondary position, one has
denied its essentiality to life and has thus compromised the value
actualization which is so vital for a meaningful life (pp. 111-12, Cf also
Hirsch, ad loc. ).

A third approach, very different from the first two, can be seen in the commentary of Rabbi
Yosef Hayyim Caro (1800-1895, Eastern Europe). Though unswervingly orthodox-- he
studied under the great halachist, Rabbi Akiva Eiger--Caro had some familiarity with
German literature, and was also a proponent of Jewish settlement in Palestine. His
commentary is strikingly original and will be presented and discussed in detail. He begins by
formulating the questions that strike him as most troubling, and to which he plans to
respond:

The commentators have had great difficulty in interpreting this mishna:

why should one forfeit his life in saying 'how fine is...etc.? If it is because he
ceased from his studies, then it should have been phrased simply "he who was
studying, and stops his study, it is accounted to him...etc." And also-- what is
the meaning of the [apparently extraneous] walking by the way? Is it
permissible then to break off one's studies in one's house?

Clearly, the element of being out of doors, and the specific remark about trees and fields is
not accidental and requires addressing. He goes on to explain how he feels that one can
know God through natural events:

It seems to me, that Rabbi Jacob's words refer to the following-- There are
certain people who know the Blessed Creator through His amazing creations,
as in "The heavens declare Your Glory, O God" (Ps. 19). And it is not only in
the high heavens that one can discern the actions of the Creator, but also in
the seed in the ground, and in the fruit of the tree, that grows in the field, in
the lowly mosses that can be seen growing on walls, all the way to the mighty,
lofty cedars of Lebanon, because all these express the might of God, and His
wonders...

All of Nature-- not just the 'celestial fireworks'-- bears close scrutiny, for it all is indicative of
divine action, and instructive regarding God. His next move is far more radical:

And were it not for the danger of failure, this way would be the superior one.
Not only that, but all the miracles and wonders through which the Holy
Blessed One makes known His might and glory, were created solely for the
people who have not reached this spiritual level of knowledge of the Creator,
and they are the vast majority, but for those few whose eyes are open to see
the wonders of Nature, these enlightened ones will observe, and reflect, and
come to know the wonders of God through the usual order of natural
processes... For from these can be seen that everything has been established
in wisdom, understanding and knowledge, and they can sense in their souls
that this is the work of a wisdom that far surpasses any idea or concept [of
ours], and this is our transcendent Creator; but people are fools, for
everything that seems to them the usual course of nature, they will pay no
attention to-- "they have eyes, but will not see"-- unless God creates
something totally new upon the earth, then they will hop and skip like a ram,
on the hind legs of their reason, saying: 'Look! Now surely Hashem is God!'
Like at the Red Sea, which was a sign for the rebellious among them, that
they should believe in God, whereas the insightful sage will say, aren't these
great waters which have been flowing for thousands of years a greater
testament to the might of their Maker? As King David wrote (Ps. 93:4):
"from the crash of great waters, the mighty breakers of the sea, The Lord on
high is awesome." What could the miracle of those waters drying up for a
few hours at God's command, possibly add to that?

Those fancy Biblical miracles -- they are for the spiritually short-sighted. The vast majority
of people considers those extra-ordinary events to be proof of God's acting in the world-- and
needs them, to believe that-- while all around them, every day, occur miracles of far greater
magnitude, to which they are blind! Those miracles are "invisible" to us because they do not
stand out against the background of the natural order-- they are the natural order. And that
order testifies "more faithfully to the power and glory of the Blessed Creator, than all that He
did against Pharaoh and his armies." (ibid.)Were it not for a certain (theological) danger,
which will be outlined presently, this way, of the study and experience of Nature, would be
superior even to Torah study. Caro continues:

If people's consciousness was fuller, they should know their Creator from the
wonder of His creatures, and His acts, but in truth, judging from human
nature, this is not the case, for the people's discernment is insufficient to
consider and understand the complete significance of those things to which
they have become accustomed...

Even though in truth it were better for us to strive to know God through the
wonders of nature, in any event, were the weakness of our understanding not
enough, whoever depended solely on this route, is in danger of stumbling, and
falling into the trap of denying the belief in a Creation at all, and other true
beliefs; therefore, the remarks of the Torah, which tell of the wonders of the
Creator in upsetting the natural order, are necessary and fitting, according to
our temperament and characteristics, and also safer, and prevent us from
[falling into] stumbling and transgression, as we wrote in a previous work for
Jewish children: "the words of the Living God are more trustworthy than the
testimony of earth and heaven."

Here Caro 'retreats' slightly, and begins to lay the groundwork for explaining why our mishna
is not in fact mistaken in warning against the dependence on Nature for religious inspiration.
The idea that God created the World is not something that can be deduced from our
experience of it, he claims. It is equally reasonable to assume that the World is eternal, and
uncreated -- a belief held by the ancient Greeks, and considered heinously heretical by the
rabbis. In order for us to understand what we are looking at, we need God's Torah as an
interpretive guide. That goes for the sage, as well who, unlike the masses of close-minded
people, does discern the wondrous nature of all that goes on in the environment-- but the
natural order, however much appreciated, does not interpret itself.

Caro now turns to the text of the mishna itself, and interprets its particular message:

This, then, is the meaning of the words of R. Jacob in our mishna, he who
walks by the way, that is to say, that he walks the Way of Goodness, to
achieve the object of his desire in knowing God, and establishing in his heart
the love and fear of God; and he was learning, and he breaks off his learning,
and says 'how fine is this tree, etc.' i.e., he ceases his Torah study, saying that
we have no need for it to achieve this goal, but rather [knowledge and love of
God can be achieved] through correct observation of the beauty of the natural
order and its creation, he, then, would forfeit his soul, for what could be easier
than that he should succumb to the disease of heresy, as described above, and
he himself would be the guilty party, for he left the Source of Living Waters,
our Holy Torah, which comprised his learning according to what human
reason is capable of, and to what he is accustomed...

And in saying "Scripture accounts it to him...", the mishnaic sage was no
doubt referring to the verse [Deut 4:9, quoted in the following mishna]: "Take
utmost care and watch yourselves scrupulously, so that you do not forget the
things that you saw with your own eyes..." in which our Holy Torah warns us
to remember the day of the receiving of the Torah, such that we worship God
from this perspective, and not from the perspective of the structures of nature.
For nature is always visibly present, and it is difficult to imagine forgetting it,
but the revelation of the Torah at Sinai, it is only too possible for human
beings to forget, and so it is about this that we were warned. Understand this...

We were instructed about [the importance] learning, and the testimony of the
Torah, so that we don't rely exclusively on the testimony of Nature alone.

So Nature is neither useless, nor peripheral; it is clearly on a par with Torah, in the potential
it has as a means for reaching God, but it is unfortunately less trustworthy, and needs to be
backed up by, or placed within the framework of, divine truth as revealed in the Torah.

Torah as Revelation, though, can be forgotten-- therefore it requires special attention and
care. Nature, on the other hand, is always "out there", Caro claims, and is less in need of
human focus to avoid being forgotten. This contradicts in part what he wrote previously, for
the inability of masses of people to appreciate the significance of what is always in front of
their eyes is certainty a type of forgetting. And the fiery Zionist ideologue Micha Yosef
Berdichevski, while admiring many of Caro's sentiments, would certainly disagree with his
conclusion.

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Modern & Zionist Responses

Before we turn to Berdichevski and other interpretations inspired by Zionist ideals, it is
worthwhile to make mention of two other, very different modern opinions. In his essay, "The
Unnatural Jew," the late Prof. Steven Schwarzschild claims not only that yes, Jews have been
alienated from Nature over the centuries, but that this is good. "The main line of Jewish
philosophy (in the exilic age) has paradigmatically defined Jewishness as alienation from
and confrontation with nature." (p. 349). Any other approach, such as pagan ontologism or
Greek-inspired Christian incarnationism "results in human and historical submission to what
are acclaimed as 'natural forces"' (p. 347). Anything which smacks of immanentism -- from
Spinoza and Marx to kabbala and Zionism -- is a "specifically Jewish heresy" (pp. 353, 361).
Zionism in particular is classed as pagan and non-Jewish, in what he derisively refers to as
the 'back-to-nature thrust [which] inheres in the Zionist enterprise" (p. 360). It is no surprise,
therefore, to find that our mishna is Schwarzschild's "favorite text." (p. 358). For him, Rabbi
Ya'akov represents a positive and candid statement of mainstream Jewish dogma.

For Eric Hoffer, on the other hand, Rabbi Ya'akov is only one of a long line of fanatics in the
history of the human race, who are characterized by dangerously blind, single-minded
devotion to a cause. He cites our mishna, along with the example of the medieval monk and
Crusader St. Bernard of Clerveaux, who would pace around beautiful Lake Geneva, lost in
thought-- never seeing the lake. In The True Believer, Hoffer writes:

The fanatic's disdain for the present blinds him to the complexity and
uniqueness of life... In Refinement of the Arts, David Hume tells of the monk
"who, because the windows of his cell opened upon a noble prospect, made a
covenant with his eyes never to turn that way." The blindness of the fanatic is
a source of strength... but it is the cause of intellectual sterility and emotional
monotony. (section 118, p. 141).

For Hoffer, it is partly the fanatically exclusive allegiance to an ideology which he finds
repugnant; but it is also specifically that that devotion alienates the "true believer" from the
breadth and richness of the world, and it is no coincidence that the examples are drawn from
expressions of being cut off from the natural world in particular.

Three other approaches-- in the form of interpretations of this mishna-- have been expressed
in the context of Zionism, the Jewish national return to the Land of Israel. As one might
expect, classical Zionist thought, which represented both a secular-political critique of
Diaspora religiosity, seen to be desiccated and overly-intellectualized, and an affirmation of
the renewed connection with the Land, would have a problem with a teaching such as Rabbi
Ya'akov's.

The most extreme reaction is undoubtedly that of Micha Yosef Berdichevski, who later took
the name Ben Gurion. Berdichevski was born in Russia, in 1865, to a family of distinguished
rabbinic lineage. He was soon a recognized scholar in all branches of traditional Jewish
learning, including Talmud, Kabbala, and Chassidism. But like many of his generation, the
Haskala (enlightenment) and the world of secular learning beckoned him. In 1890 he moved
to Western Europe, and deepened his exposure to the intellectual currents of the time. He
was deeply influenced by Nietzsche, and the latter's call for "a transvaluation of all values" in
culture.

When it came to the Jewish tradition, he had a love-hate relationship, and in his writings "he
saw only tension and affirmed only revolt." ³¹ He certainly expressed that Nietzschean idea
in his writings on Judaism (a radical secular Zionist had a lot to "transvalue" in Jewish
Europe at the turn of the century), but the love-hate ambiguity is also very present in his
style. Even in translation, his luxuriant Biblical language comes across in this paean to
nature, which nevertheless does not negate or exclude God:³²

The Universe telleth the glory of God, the works of His hand doth Nature
relate; for Nature is the father of all life and the source of all life; Nature is
the fount of all, the fount and soul of all that live... And then Israel sang the
song of the Universe and of Nature, the song of heaven and earth and all their
host, the song of the sea and the fullness thereof, the song of the hills and the
high places, the song of the trees and the grass, the song of the seas and the
streams. Then did the men of Israel sit each under his vine or his fig tree, the
fig put forth her buds and the green hills cast their charm from afar... Those
days were the days of breadth and beauty... We had thought that God was
power, exaltation, the loftiest of the lofty. We had thought that all that walked
upon the heights became a vehicle for His presence, but lo! a day came in
which we learned otherwise...

That day was the beginning of the other-worldly, Diaspora mentality, that prized ethereal
spirituality over all else. The value of political sovereignty, a deep relationship with one's
natural surroundings, national pride-- all these fell by the wayside.

Is it any wonder that there arose among us generation after generation
despising Nature, who thought of all God's marvels as superfluous trivialities?
Is it surprising that we became a non-people, a non-nation-- non-people
indeed?

I recall from the teaching of the sages: Whoever walks by the way and
interrupts his study to remark, How fine is that tree, how fine is that
field--forfeits his life!

But I assert that then alone will Judah and Israel be saved, when another
teaching is given unto us, namely: Whoever walks by the way and sees a fine
tree and a fine field and a fine sky and leaves them to think on other
thoughts-- that man is like one who forfeits his life!

Give us back our fine trees and fine fields! Give us back the Universe.

Like many Zionists, even in his absolute rejection of them, Berdichevski remains tied to the
texts, and the categories of their thought, which formed his identity. He is claiming here that
Zionism can only be fulfilled when we not only reject the implications of Rabbi Ya'akov's
teaching, but when we adopt the exact opposite outlook.

If the tradition gives primacy to Torah study over Nature, then we must reverse the priorities,
and make our relationship with the World in all its manifestations, central, and relegate

Torah study to the spiritual back-seat, if we validate it all. If we take his reading at face
value, he seems to be claiming that the Land can replace the Book as the Jewish people's
prime source of sustenance, of identity and existence. According to Hertzberg (ibid., p. 292)
Berdichevski asserted that "nature worship and idolatry, not biblical monotheism, had been
the real religion of ancient Israel in its days of glory." Other Zionist thinkers and writers,
notably the poet Saul Tchernichovski, were sympathetic to this quasi-pagan approach.

Another Zionist understanding of our mishna is provided by Ahad Ha'am and Chayim N.
Bialik. They were of the same generation as Berdichevski, but did not call for a radical
rejection of all things Jewish ³³. Instead they worked for a secular rejuvenation of Jewish
culture, based on the renewed study, and reinterpretation of our age-old Sources. They also
believed that a new relationship between Torah and Nature would have to be forged in the
rebuilt Jewish society in the Land of Israel. But rather than rejecting, or inverting the
teaching of our mishna, as Berdichevski had done, they contextualized it, making it a
teaching that was crucial for our years wandering in the Diaspora, but now was in need of
revision. Bialik wrote the following in his seminal essay "Halacha and Aggada" ³⁴ ,
attributing the idea to Ahad Ha'am:

It is not without significance that the people of Israel, or at least the great
majority of them, submitted to the iron yoke of Halachah, and not only that,
but actually chose to carry with them into exile a heavy load of laws and
ordinances... And here is what the Halachist himself says: "If a man studies as
he walks, and breaks off his study to say 'How lovely is this tree! How lovely
is this field!'-- Scripture regards him as guilty of deadly sin." Our aestheticists
have spent all their ammunition on this unfortunate mishnah: but even here
the sympathetic ear will detect, between the lines, the apprehension, the
trembling anxiety for the future, of a wandering people which has nothing to
call its own but a Book, and for which any attachment of its soul to one of the
lands of sojourn means mortal danger.

So long as the Jews were in lands other than their own Land of Israel, connected not to a real
homeland, but to their "portable homeland", as Heine characterized the relationship of the
Jews to Torah, then, yes, rejecting that spiritual inheritance for the sake of a tenuous
connection with "one of the lands of their sojourn" is potentially spiritual suicide. So,
according to Bialik and Ahad Ha'am, this mishna is not talking about all of Nature-- only

Diaspora Nature. ³⁵ Only that sort of diversion presents a spiritual threat. The implication
being that once the Jews return to their land, a new balance can be struck, that can validate
both sides of the equation, with neither suffering at the hands of the other. The Land -- a
metonym of all of Creation, but also the special portion of the Jewish people -- would take
its place alongside the Book.

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Conclusion: A New Vision?

What is that new balance, and how is it to come about? A complete answer to that question
has yet to be worked out-- for as the Jerusalem educator Moti Bar-Or has remarked, the
Jewish people may have begun to make aliyah to the Land of Israel but the Torah has not yet
made aliyah, has not yet resettled in the Land. In Israel the Abraham Joshua Heschel Center
for Nature Studies has been founded to work out the implications of a Jewishly-rooted
approach to the natural environment, and do educational work in this area. Making our
relationship to the World an item on the Jewish educational agenda should be a priority, both
in Israel and the Diaspora. ³⁶ Ecological concerns are thankfully becoming more prevalent
among many sectors of the population, especially youth. Exploring in a deep and
sophisticated way the relevancy of Jewish learning to students' deepest personal concerns can
only help revitalize Jewish education, and on the other side, give environmentalism
significant spiritual roots that can help make it an integral part of our world-view, and not
relegate it to the status of a passing fad.

A Jewish environmental ethic should be based on the sense of responsibility that flows from
our awe at the wonders of Creation. Regarding responsibility, traditional Jewish teaching has
focused on mitzvot bein adam le-chavero, the (ethical) commandments concerning our duties
to our fellow human beings, and mitzvot bein adam le-Makom, the (primarily ritual)
commandments which help express our relationship to God. ³⁷ What is needed today is a
new, third category: mitzvot bein adam le-olamo, ³⁸ the mitzvot, and the concomitant sense
of commandedness, which can inform and define our piece in the World, and our
responsibility towards it.

These commandments bridge, and transcend, the traditional categories of ethics and ritual.
The mitzvah of bal tashchit, the prohibition of inappropriate use and excessive consumption,
is not a ritual but neither is it ethically directed at the welfare of other human beings.

Similarly, shabbat and kashrut are conventionally considered ritual commandments, yet have
significant environmental implications. Once we have a name for something, then we can
begin to talk about it on, and in, its own terms.
To this end, Jewish teachers need to learn how to integrate interaction with the natural
world, and religious thinking about it, into educational experiences which until now have
been classroom-bound, and limited to what can be printed between the covers of a book (or
with more creativity and funding-- on disk or cassette). We need to reinterpret that other
potentially anti-environmental Pirkei Avot text, the saying attributed to Ben Bag-Bag (5:24):
Hapokh bah ve-hapokh bah de-khola bah -- "Study it [the Torah], and review it, for
everything is contained within it." The prevalence of this perspective has made us blind to
all those things which are not contained in the books -- as wide and deep and rich as our vast
sacred bibliography is.

Jewish summer camping has great potential, though too often stunning natural camp settings
are treated as no more than static props, or scenery against which the otherwise unaffected
drama of camp life takes place. It is not enough just to be "out there," or take those hikes
which have become part and parcel of the Jewish summer camp experience: for true
interaction, and integration to take place, the learning that goes on must relate to the
apple-trees, and not just take place under them. And rabbis, who are accustomed to trying to
elicit religious experiences among their congregants in the synagogue sanctuary, and via the
siddur, the text of the prayer book (apparently they are also used to frequent failure in this
department), need to be trained to foster spiritual sensitivity out-of-doors as well, in response
to Creation-- in the forests, deserts, oceans, and even just the front- and backyards of the
World. There may be some surprises in store.

Three Zionist approaches were announced above, but only two were presented. The third is a
'torah she-be'al peh', an oral teaching that has defied all efforts to trace it to a written source.³⁹
This interpretation zeroes in on two words: mafsik mi-mishnato -- ceases, breaks off from
his study. The force of our mishna hinges on there being a dichotomizing, the breaking off of
the Torah study in order to experience Nature. All the commentaries cited above assume this
dichotomous reading, whether anti-Nature, like the Meiri or Schwarzschild, or moderately or
radically affirming of the value of Nature, like Caro or Berdichevski. This assumption results
in an either-or, black-and-white world view; it allows only for a pat acceptance of the peshat
(in this case, the surface, literal meaning) of the mishna, or a Berdichevskian rejection,
leading to the establishment of an opposite, but equally alienating hierarchy of values.

As Jews, whether in the Diaspora or in the Land of Israel, we cannot mafsik mi-mishnato,
turn our backs on the texts, or cease to define ourselves in terms of them; an exclusively
nature-based identity is not a Jewish identity. But neither can we afford any longer to accept
the dichotomizing of the world and of our own souls. This third interpretation consciously
negates that assumption, and proposes a competing version of the peshat based on synthesis.
Yes, if in order to relate to the natural environment you have to cease your learning, then
your soul is in grave danger. This, then, is the sin that is castigated here: the radical rupture
between Torah and Nature, the traditional, Diaspora-Jewish incommensurability of Creation
and Revelation. What is called for today is synthesis, ⁴⁰ a supreme effort to mend that gap,
to forge a common language for our disparate forms of religious experience.

One who perpetuates this dichotomy, this spiritual feud, is in truth risking great spiritual, and
physical harm. But one who walks by the way, engaged in Torah thoughts, and who
mimshikh be-mishnato --- continues that study, seeing the beautiful tree, and the field, and
our relationship to them, as an extension, as an expansion, of that study, that person will
have performed a great act of tikkun (repair): tikkun ha'olam, of the World, and tikkun
hanefesh, of our (previously endangered) souls.

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Notes

I would like to thank Noah Efron and Noam Zion for their helpful critiques of the form
and content of this essay; and the participants of the Beit Midrash Elul workshop on
“Nature and the Human Spirit: Jewish Perspectives on the Environment" co-led by
myself and Eilon Schwartz during 1993-94 in Jerusalem..

All translations of passages from the Babylonian Talmud are taken from the Soncino
translation, Rabbi Dr. I. Epstein, editor, Soncino Press, London.

1. For those interested in getting the overall sense of this short passage before we begin to
dissect it into its component parts, the conclusion of this "translation process" is given here
feel free to peek

2. The Poem Itself: 45 Modern Poets in a New Presentation (1960, Holt, Rinehart and
Winston, New York) and The Modern Hebrew Poem Itself, Stanley Burnshaw, T. Carmi,
and Ezra Spicehandler, eds. (1965, Schocken books, New York). The pithiness of
mishnaic texts, like Avot, lend them a poetic compactness that invites this sort of
treatment.

3. There are even editions with the name of Rabbi Akiva, but this seems particularly
implausible. The weight of scholarly opinion seems to support R. Ya'akov. See Herford
(ad loc.) and Albeck (in his notes at the end of the tractate), who has R. Shim'on in the
body of the text, but writes: "a different version, which is correct has: Rabbi Ya'akov."

4. See T. Jer. Shab 10:5, 12c,d; Pes 10:1, 37b.

5. Recounted in T.B. Kiddushin 39b, and again at the conclusion of Hullin (p. 142a).The
mishna (M. Kid. 1:10) which that particular gemara is relating to seems to be claiming
that there is direct and immediate reward, in this world for the performance of mitzvot.
Rabbi Ya'akov disagrees, saying: "There is no reward for precepts in this world...there is
not a single precept in the Torah whose reward is [stated] at its side which is not
dependent on the resurrection of the dead." (i.e., the next world). A Rabbi Joseph is
quoted as saying there, that if Acher had interpreted as did his daughter's son, Rabbi
Ya'akov, he would not have come to sin.

6. It is interesting to note that the conclusion of this tale is that RaShBi is eventually
reconciled with the Jewish people, and the world, when, as Shabbat eve is approaching,
he sees an old man running with two myrtle branches in his hand. He asks the old man
what they are for, and he tells him that they are in honor of the Shabbat, one symbolizing
"Zachor" (remember' - the aspect of the Shabbat emphasized in the Ten Commandments
in the book of Exodus) and the other representing "Shamor" ('observe' - the aspect of the
Shabbat in the Ten Commandments in Deuteronomy). In other words, the (apparently
original, unprecedented) ritual use of the branches of a tree in the context of Shabbat has
put his mind at ease about the fate of the world.

7. T. B. Berachot 35b. Due in part to his mystical, fiery character, and also to the
mysterious isolation in the cave, Rabbi Shim'on bar Yochai (or RaShBi, as he is known)
is traditionally considered to be the author of the great mystical masterwork, the Zohar.

8. This last is Neusner's rendition, in his Mishna: A New Translation, p. 679.

9. The Mishna (from the same root) was the first great codification of the Oral Law, and
though we are familiar with it in book form, it was originally oral, meaning that people
learned it by heart (hence the need for constant repetition) and taught it solely verbally.
Those people were the tannaim, which is also from the same root, with an Aramaic
transposition of "t " for "sh. "

10.. But there are other uses of this interesting word "naeh." For instance, in a
well-known passage from Midrash Tanhuma (Tazria, section 5, and Tanhuma, Buber ea.,
section 7) the Roman curate Turnusrufus asks Rabbi Akiva: whose works are more
"naim" -- those of God or those of human beings? From the rest of the story, and the
examples bandied back and forth between them, it seems unlikely that they are talking in
purely aesthetic categories; specifically, Rabbi Akiva's coup de grace - the superiority of
cakes and cloth to raw wheat and flax-- seems to imply functional value as well. In-depth
study of this aggada can reveal a great deal about rabbinic attitudes towards Nature,
culture, and the human role in Creation.

11. This is the Talmudic phrasing. As codified in the Shulchan Aruch (O.H. 225: 10), the
full standard blessing (“Blessed are You, Lord our God, Sovereign of the Universe...") is
required. It is explained there that the blessing is to be recited upon seeing beautiful
creatures of all sorts: this includes people (non-Jews, even idolators, as well as Jews) and
all sorts of beasts. In T. J. Berachot 13b,c, it is related of Rabban Gamliel that he recited
this blessing upon seeing a beautiful Roman woman, no less one of God’s handiworks.

This is one of the birkot hanahanin, the blessings of ‘enjoyment'. As opposed
to other forms of benedictions, which are to be recited at prescribed times,
either during a prayer service, or before the performance of a mitzva, these
berachot are essentially a set form for spontaneous reactions of wonder and
thanksgiving for experiences of various aspects of Nature. These blessings
potentially have the power to cultivate a deeper appreciation of elements of
the world around us, but sadly, they are rather underemphasized in
contemporary Jewish spiritual education. This particular blessing, in fact, is
apparently no longer said at all by Ashkenazim, according to the Mishna
Berura, the authoritative Eastern European law code published less than a
hundred years ago (though it still appears in most prayer books that include a
section on "blessings for various occasions"). In any event, he writes, if said at
all it is best recited in an abbreviated form, without mentioning the Name of
God or God's sovereignty (bli shem u’malkhut). See Mishna Berura, vol. 2,
225: 10, note 32; and Chayei Adam (Avraham Danziger, 18th C. Lithuania)
63: 1. The latter gives the astonishing reason that, since we are only required
to make blessings of this sort upon the very first contact with the creature or
object in question-- "when the enjoyment is still intense, and the difference
[from one's usual routine] is great"-- it is no longer appropriate to do so, since:
"We are always accustomed to this, and we don't experience any striking
contrast. " Even if Vilna of 1790 were exceptionally beautiful (all year round)
it is hard to fathom this rationale. This sort of blessing is designed precisely to
foster a sense of wonder at things we might otherwise take for granted. If
Danziger had read Caro's commentary (see below), he certainly didn't take it
to heart!

12. Neusner (1984, p. 105) presents a particularly interesting midrash on the interaction
of human and divine here: This is a stern message. It emphasizes that the beauty of the
tree, the beauty of a field one has worked to plow-- the creation of God, the creation of
humanity-- must not take our minds away from the labor of Torah, which belongs both to
God and humanity. God created the tree, humanity plowed the field, we as earnest
students of Torah take God's creation and make it humanity's.

13. Used here is the New JPS translation of this verse. This is considered particularly
likely by many commentators, since it is explicitly quoted directly in the following
mishna.

Rabbi Yosef Ya'avetz (or Jabez, Spain-Italy, 15th C.) presents a fascinating alternate
understanding of what it might mean for "Scripture" to accuse. To the modern ear,
however, it sounds slightly whimsical:

The Torah gets angry with him: for this reason it does not say simply
"forfeits his life" as it does above (3:5), but rather Scripture accounts it to
him - because it is the Torah itself that is angry at him [for abandoning
it]. (p. 77).

14. Goldin, p. 127.

15. lbid., in translation of Aknin's commentary, p. 128. Also Hirsch, p. 47.

16. Routtenberg, Siddur Sim Shalom, p. 623. He adds, in note 15 (p. 664): "Literally,
'guilty against his own soul."' However, in a previous mishna (3:5), where the identical
phrase occurs, he translates: "endangers his life."

17. Danby, p. 451. Also Blackman, vol. 4, p. 523. The latter however renders the other
occurrence (according to his numbering, 3:4) "such a one is guilty against himself."

18. Herford, p. 73. Also Hertz, p. 53. He, too, renders this phrase otherwise in 3:5, "such
a one sins against himself ' (p. 51).

19. Neusner, Mishna, p. 679.

20. Taylor, p. 48 (inner quotation marks in the original).

21. Soncino, p. 31. An alternative is added there in a note: "or incurs guilty responsibility
for his life."

22. Bulka, p. 111. Cf. also Hirsch, who adds in his comments (p. 47): “is as if he had
sinned against his own soul, or rather, as if he had forfeited his soul." See also
Hertzberg's translation of Berdichevski included below.

23. This appears in Sir Leon Simon's translation of Bialik's essay "Halacha and Aggada",
in the Anthology of Hebrew Essays, p. 378.

24. From the epigraph to Cynthia Ozick's short story "The Pagan Rabbi" (in the collection
of the same name, Knopf, New York, 1971, p. 1). That story is a fascinating literary
treatment of some of the themes suggested by this mishna. The 'pagan rabbi' of the story's
title goes much further than abstract appreciation of the beauty of inanimate nature...

25. Avraham Shtal claims that there is a crucial difference: "there he was engaged in acts
that are completely unacceptable, whereas here, he praises God by glorifying the
Creation. Even so, this too is forbidden, because Torah study is more important." (p.
148). See the following section which presents other commentaries on this issue.

26. M. Ketubot 3:2; M. Bava Kama 3:10; M. Hullin l: l. In addition, the phrase occurs in
B.T. approximately another dozen times, also with the same sense.

27. There are of course commentators who do read this in a physical sense. Rashi (ad.
loc.) comments: "Risks his life, for Satan is not able to harm one who is occupied with
Torah." Duran makes a similar comment (Magen Avot, ad. loc.). And Rabbi Yitzchak
Magriso, a compiler of the 18th century Ladino Yalkut Me 'am Loez says that the danger
involved is that the traveler is liable to be hurt by wild animals, "for wild animals can
have no power over a human being unless he becomes like an animal; and a person who
does not engage in Torah study is likened unto an animal... (Hebrew version, p. 125).

28. In the Encyclopedia Judaica entry on "Law and Morality"(vol. 10: 1484), Saul
Berman writes of the 'didactic' use of the death penalty threat:

While the Bible lays down the penalty of death at the hands of the court
for a variety of crimes, the tannaim had already begun using the ascription
of the death penalty to crimes for which clearly no court would prescribe
such punishment. This exaggerated penalty was an effective way of
communicating rabbinic feelings about the enormity of misbehavior. The
amoraim made extensive use of this device to indicate their indignation at
immoral behavior. Thus, in a passage which makes manifestly clear that it
is aimed at emphasis rather than true legal liability, the Talmud says, "A
mourner who does not let his hair grow long and does not rend his clothes
is liable to death" (T.B. Mo'ed Katan 24a). Similarly the rabbis asserted
that "Any scholar upon whose garment a [grease] stain is found is liable to
death" (T.B. Shabbat 114a).

29. I am indebted to my friend and colleague Eilon Schwartz for the suggestion of this
analysis of the commentaries, as well as many other insights that contributed to the
development of the ideas in this essay.

30. Of course even this minimal acceptance of the value of the appreciation of Nature is
on the condition that it is not for its own sake, but as a means to praising God, and
acknowledging the greatness of the Creator. Two 20th century Orthodox commentators
address this point. Aharon Shelomo Katriel Maharil is particularly clear about this, in his
Avot Ha'olam Hakadmonim:

...since he said "how fine is this tree, how fine is this field" and did not
include God’s name (i.e., did not say an actual blessing), this then is idle
talk, and constitutes a break from his studies, and he forfeits his life, as it
says in the Zohar (Lech Lecha, 92): one who leaves the Torah, even for a
single hour, is like one who leaves the life of the world..

Another aspect: there is actually no problem in saying “how fine is this
tree", for one can claim that his intention was for the sake of the blessing.
But as for "how fine is this field" -- -there is no blessing, and so that
(illegitimately) diverted his mind from Torah, and for that he forfeits his
life.

And Irving Bunim, in Ethics from Sinai, adds:

The exclamation of rapture, "How beautiful is this tree," etc., comes forth
not as part of religious expression but as an interruption of Torah study, in
contrast and opposition to it. Basically, Judaism wants us to enjoy life in
this world and experience the pleasures which stem from a contemplation
of the beauties of nature. But too many of us appreciate nature merely as
nature, as something separate and apart, out of any larger context. We fail
to see in nature's great beauty, in its wonder and mystery, the hand of a
Creator, the Master of the universe (vol. 1, p. 267).

31. This characterization is from Hertzberg, p. 291. He places his selections from
Berdichevski in a section entitled "Rebels at their most defiant."

32. This translation is from Hertzberg, pp. 296-297. The original essay, called Du
Partzufim ("Two-Faces," or "In Two Directions" according to Hertzberg), written c.
1900-1903, can be found in his collected works, Essays volume, p. 45, published by
Dvir, Tel Aviv, 1960.

33. Actually, neither did Berdichevski. He spent the last years of his life working on a
massive collection of Jewish aggada and folklore (Mimekor Yisrael) not unlike Bialik's
Sefer Aggada.

34. Translated by Sir Leon Simon, in An Anthology of Hebrew Essays, Israel Cohen, B.
Y. Michali, eds. Massada Publishers, Tel Aviv, 1966. pp. 368-88. This passage appears on p. 378.
The Hebrew original, written in the early years of this century, can be
found in the collected writings of Ch. N. Bialik, published by Dvir, Tel Aviv, original
1938, reprinted 1971, p. 219.

35. This need not sound too strange to the contemporary ear. One of the "hottest" topics
in environmental thought today is bio-regionalism and "a sense of place"-- the
importance of one's connection to one's immediate area and its environment. As Jews,
can we seriously speak of establishing a deep sense of place, of totally integrating with
our environment -- making it a part of ourselves, and ourselves a part of it -- in New
England, or the American Southwest, or the pampas of South America -- without always
having in the backs of our minds that something is not quite right? that we Jews once had
a monumental "sense of place," and it has been renewed, for some, with the
re-establishment of the State of Israel in the Land of Israel? This is the (unabashedly
Zionist) question for the reader to ponder: can we speak of 'Jewish big-regionalism'
anywhere else but there, in what is known in our tradition as ha-aretz, the Land?

36. Important pioneering work in this field is being done by the American group,
Shomrei Adama. Clearly, Jews need to be approached educationally where they are
(physically, and otherwise), and ethically speaking, a universal vision is essential-- but
see the reservations expressed in the previous note.

37. The literal translation of this epithet for God -- makom - is "place." A full exploration
of the history and implications of this fascinating term are beyond the scope of this essay,
but the potential for "green midrash" is clear. It might even be claimed that the best
Hebrew translation for the ecological term discussed above in note 32, "a sense of place,"
is precisely this: bein adam lamakom, the relationship between humans and the(ir) Place
-- theological ramifications intended. It should be noted, though, that a classic midrash
(Gen. Rabbah 68:9) explicates this phrase as a negation of pantheism: "God is the place
of the World, but the World is not the Place of God," i.e., all of creation, the entire
universe, does not -- can not -- contain Divinity.

38. Literally, "the commandments between man and his world." Of course, the possessive
pronoun, expressed in the Hebrew suffix "-o" should be interpreted as indicating
relationship, not possession, as in the phrase " between people and their fellows." For the
midrashically minded, the theologically suggestive possibility exists of interpreting that
little suffix as referring (possessively) to "'His' world" i.e., God's world - kemo
she-katav, as it is written, "L'H ha'aretz u'm'loah - "the Earth is the Lord's" (Ps. 24:1 ).

39. Many people attribute the following teaching to Rav Kook, the great thinker and
spiritual teacher of the early part of this century, and first Chief Rabbi of Israel. Though
this is very much in the spirit of his thought, the only place he relates expressly to our
mishna, he says something very similar to Reuven Bulka above. In his Orot Ha'Torah
(9:7, p. 45) he writes:

The Light of Life shines forth from all parts of the world, but the Torah's effluence is the
Light of the Life of Life. Torah is the forceful and original holiness, while Nature in
comparison is only a "lighter" and secondary source of holiness.

Though I have found no written reference, the interpretation may have been an oral
teaching of his son, Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda Kook.

40. Does this call for synthesis risk pagan eclecticism? On the whole issue of the
possibility of the sanctification of nature within Judaism, I find inspiration in the closing
paragraph of Orthodox scholar and theologian Michael Wyschogrod’s seminal essay on
that topic (p. 7):

It is difficult to return to the religion of nature. It is difficult and
dangerous, particularly for Jews, to worship nature again. At the same
time the destruction of nature, which seems to follow to some extent from
the desacralization of nature, has reached a stage that cannot continue. So
we must try to combine these two themes. To be perfectly honest, I have
long felt that the religion against which the prophets expounded so
eloquently in the Hebrew Bible did not get a full hearing from them. I
wonder whether the prophets gave a really fair representation of the point
of view and theology of the worshipers of Baal and Ashteret . . . Perhaps it
would have been better if the prophets had occasionally sat down with
them and said, "Tell us how you see the world." Could there be some
insights in what they taught which we need to learn? I am convinced there
were; and even if we don't agree with much of what they believed, I think
we would profit by better understanding their point of view.

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References

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An Anthologv of Hebrew Essays, Israel Cohen, B. Y. Michali, eds. Massada Publishers,
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Berdichevski, Micha Yosef, "In Two Directions", 1900-1903, quoted in The Zionist Idea.
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Bulka, Reuven, As a Tree By the Waters: Pirkey Avoth: Psychological and Philosophical
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Bunim, Irving, Ethics From Sinai, Feldheim, 1964, 3 vols.

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Danby, Herbert, The Mishna, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1933. Chapters of the Fathers pp.
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