The Hidden Cost of Laziness

Chapter six introduces and defines the second level, zerizus.  

Zerizus can be translated as "zeal" or "alacrity" (Ofek, Feldheim). However, see "Lights Along the Way" (Artscroll) where R. Twersky refuses to translate the word, claiming there is no fair English equivalent. Regardless of how you translate zerizus, chapter six is basically a manifesto against its antithesis: i.e., laziness.

Man is naturally lazy, Luzzatto tells us, and one who wishes to achieve zerizus must strive to overcome their very nature. Otherwise, man is guaranteed to end up bereft of mitzvos. 

Simple enough. But Luzzatto is not satisfied. He quotes Mishlei (24:30-34) in which Shlomo HaMelech contemplates an overgrown vineyard with a broken fence and learns this lesson: "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the arms to lie down, then your poverty shall come as a runner..." Ramchal then quotes a Midrash which interprets these verses as an analogy. Someone who fails to invest sufficient time and energy into learning will, as a result, fail to understand Torah and then misinterpret it, ultimately leading to violations of the law.

Question: Why is Ramchal talking about learning? His topic here is how laziness works against zerizus. Learning will obviously be damaged by laziness, just like every other mitzvah - why is it singled out?

I think it is clear that Luzzatto is not just giving us learning as an example, but is rather making an additional, important point about zerizus. Laziness has a negative impact on Mitzvah performance in two very different ways.

1) Because of laziness, a person will fail to fulfill his obligations.
2) Because of laziness, a person will not learn enough, and then, due to their lack of training, they will misinterpret Torah - and do Mitzvos wrong!

Although well-intentioned and, if they ever realize their error, these people will assume it was "just a mistake," they are not as innocent as they think. It all comes back to a failure in zerizus.

Peer Pressure

When describing the things that get in the way of proper Zehirut, Ramchal names 3 reasons: Being too busy, not taking life seriously, and having bad friends. Ramchal previously talked about being too busy as being the big challenge to Zehirut, and being overly jovial and not taking things seriously seems to be the direct opposite of Zehirut, so it makes sense why Ramchal mentions these two here.

Having bad friends is interesting, however, as its opposite - having good friends - is not mentioned as one of the positive ways of acquiring Zehirut. This is strange because in Pirkei Avot (Chapter 2) it says "איזוהי דרך ישרה שידבק בה האדם" - "What is the straight path that a person should stick to?" - and one of the answers given there is "חבר טוב" - "a good friend." In the mishna this is contrasted with the question "What is the bad path that a person should distance himself from?" with one of the answers being "bad friends."

Why did Ramchal leave out positive peer pressure?

It's All Torah

In chapter five the treatment of level one is completed with a list of three things that ruin it. This will be Luzzatto's modus operandi throughout the book; he will define each level, describe how to get there and then end with a list of things which make it difficult to attain and/or retain that level.

The first item on his list, and the one he spends the most time writing about, is insufficient Torah learning. For after all, R. Pinchas ben Yair was clear that it is Torah that leads to zehirus. The Ramchal describes the attempt to achieve zehirus without Torah as pure foolishness, comparing it to ignoring a doctor's prescription.

Why didn't the Ramchal mention this before? When the Ramchal taught us how to acquire this trait in the previous chapter, he spent little time talking about Torah learning. Granted, he did begin with the quote from R. Pinchas ben Yair, but then he quickly segued to the three methods of acquiring zehirus for the three different kinds of people. Why now, when it comes to listing things that are detrimental to zehirus, does he suddenly put so much emphasis on Torah?

The answer can be found in the opening lines of the previous chapter. There Luzzatto quotes Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir's teaching that Torah leads to zehirus. However, Luzzatto qualifies it. He writes that Torah leads to Zehirus בדרך כלל, "generally." But בפרט, "specifically," it is Mussar that does it. Is Luzzatto arguing with Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir? Certainly not! The Ramchal is making a profound statement that is getting lost in translation. To understand it, we should remember that a פרט is, by definition, a part of a כלל. Now reread his words at the beginning of chapter four:

Specifically, [על דרך פרט] what brings to [Zehirus] is contemplating seriousness of the service that man is obligated [to perform] and the depth of judgement for it, and he can extract these [lessons] from the study of biblical narratives and from learning the relevant teachings of the sages.   

Luzzatto reiterates the idea in chapter five:

... But, if he studies Torah, when he sees its ways, its Mitzvos and its warnings, a new awakening will eventually develop on its own within him and it will lead him to the good path... As I wrote before, this also includes [בכלל זה ג"כ] the setting of times for analyzing and correcting one's deeds.

In short, when Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir said that Torah leads to Zehirus he was making a very broad and general statement, a כלל. While it is true that any and every Torah teaching leads to Zehirus, there is a specific area of Torah, a פרט of the כלל, that is a more targeted and more effective way to achieve the desired results. These are the "contemplations" described by the Ramchal. And when the Ramchal writes that these lessons can be learned from the biblical narratives and the teachings of the sages, he is not merely referring us to textual sources for inspiration. He is proving his point. If these Mussar lessons are derived from Torah that can only mean one thing: Mussar is Torah!

In chapter four, Luzzatto describes different contemplations for different types of people. Some are motivated by the human perfection offered by Torah, some by its honor and others by the fear of consequences - and Luzzatto shows us that every one of these ideas has its source in Torah. Whichever motivation moves you, it's all Torah. (For a further expansion of this idea, see this post.)

II

Luzzatto tells us that the non-idealistic masses can be motivated by the fear of strict divine justice. He spends a lot of ink bringing example after example of great biblical figures who were punished for their errors and, uncharacteristically, he allows himself to be lead off-topic into the thorny theological problem of reconciling divine justice with divine compassion. But why is all this necessary? Do the masses really need to grapple with these issues? Would it not suffice to simply state that God punishes sin? He could illustrated this fact with the well-known flood of Noah, the burning of Sodom or the ten plagues in Egypt. Surprisingly, Luzzatto fails to cite the explicit biblical Mitzvah to fear Hashem! (cf. Devarim 6:13). Wouldn't these sources be a much more succinct and straightforward way of making his point?

The answer is that when Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir said that Torah leads to Zehirus, he was not referring to Torah truths, nor was he referring to Mitzvos. As Luzzatto himself writes (in chapters four and five), Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir was referring specifically to Torah study. Luzzatto's thesis in chapter four is that the fear of God is a subject; a deep and central subject of Torah study. (In fact, this is the central message of the entire book, see the author's introduction.) But how do we know this to be true? Where in Torah does the fear of God appear not as law but as a subject? As we pointed out before, Luzzatto provided the answer in the opening lines of chapter four: "... [He] can extract these [lessons] from the study of biblical narratives and from learning the relevant teachings of the sages." If it comes from Torah, it is Torah.

Fear itself does not develop Zehirus; Torah study does. Specifically, studying the definition of divine justice and its theological implications. In other words, the Sugya of מדת הדין. This is the Torah that leads to Zehirus.

On the Virtues of Perfectionism (or is it maturity?)

Transitioning into its role as a practical guide, we are told that there are three different methods for attaining the first level of zehirus. (Literally "carefulness," a zahir is an introspective person who, instead of acting out of habit, questions the righteousness of his own behavior in order to avoid sin. See the beginning of chapters two and six.)

Which of the three ways of achieving zehirus is right for you very much depends on who you are. "Shleimei hada'as" (the definition of which is the topic of this post) are brought to zehirus by the realization of the fact that a lack of zehirus makes you a flawed human being - which, for shleimei hada'as, is a frightening and unbearable prospect. Those who are "inferior to them" should consider that in the next world honor comes to those who were zahir in this world. (Apparently, the self-centered drive for honor is a legitimate engine for personal growth. Whatever works.) And finally, "the masses" can be driven to zehirus by contemplating the punishment that awaits those who fail to observe the Torah.

Who are the "shleimei hada'as"? Machon Ofek translates it as "those of perfect knowledge." They get an "A" for literal accuracy but, for me at least, it fails. I simply have no idea what it means. Perfect knowledge? As in, they know everything? What difference does that make? Artscroll (R. Twesky) has it better, "people with profound understanding." I like Feldheim's translation best: "those who are truly wise," but it is still misleading, for the Ramchal is surely not speaking here of IQ.

I believe the correct translation of shleimei hada'as is "very mature" or "refined." Maybe even "perfectionists." The "da'as" here is not knowledge nor intelligence; it is emotional maturity, as in "bar da'as."

The truth our our contention can be proved by Luzzatto's own use of the term later in this same section of our chapter.

About this [the sages] of blessed memory said metaphorically, "...every person is burned by his friend's Chuppah" (Baba Basra 75a). This is not due to jealousy which only occurs to those who lack da'as..."

Clearly, the da'as in this sentence is not speaking of knowledge or wisdom. Those qualities don't prevent jealousy. Maturity does.

The Ramchal is thus describing a personality type: people blessed with an innate sense that life must be lived seriously; people who cannot tolerate imperfection in themselves. If that describes you, then the very nature of your personality is an engine for zehirus. If not, then read on.

Welcome Reb Eliezer!

We are honored to welcome Eliezer Brodt of Seforim Blog fame as a contributor to the Elul Book Club. We look forward to reading his thoughts on Mesilas Yesharim. 

What time?

It seems that in today's day and age, step one - make time to pay attention and think about one's actions - is harder than ever. How is someone supposed to have enough time in a day to work, learn, see their family (and friends) and still find some time to analyze how they're doing? Not to mention actually improving themselves after noticing their deficiencies!
It's almost a catch-22. How does someone make enough time to think and realize that they need to make time?

How Do You Fix a Broken Compass?

Having completed his powerful arguments in favor of self-introspection, in chapter three Luzzatto begins teaching us how it is to be done - and here he makes a terrifying statement. He writes that we cannot be satisfied by merely identifying what it is that we are doing wrong. We must also investigate the things that we think we are doing right.

The materialism and physicality of this world is the darkness of night for the mind's eye and causes... errors in our perception to the point that we view evil as if it is really good.

Well, if our moral compass is broken, how can there possibly be any hope for us to identify and fix what's wrong?!

*UPDATE*

I return now to this question two and half years later (Jan 2, 2014) for I believe I have found the answer. "Found" isn't the right word of course, for it was right there the whole time. In fact, I think we may have just hit on the central point of the entire chapter.

The source Luzzatto cites which advocates introspection is the Gemora in Baba Batra (78b):

על כן יאמרו המשלים באו חשבון (במדבר כא:כז), ע"כ יאמרו המושלים ביצרם בואו ונחשב חשבונו של עולם, הפסד מצוה כנגד שכרה, ושכר עברה כנגד הפסדה

Those who have conquered their Yetzer [HaRa] advise, "Come and make the reckoning of existence, the cons of a Mitzvah vs. its pros, the pros of an Aveira vs. its cons."

Note that the recommended introspection does not ask us to evaluate the rightness or wrongness of a given behavior. As Luzzatto pointed out, this is beyond us. Our moral sense is blinded by materialism and we cannot be trusted to identify good and evil. Rather, we should weigh the pros and cons. Make a chart. Consider the advantages and disadvantages. Ask yourself if it is really worth it. The wisdom of this advice is that it sidesteps the morality question and forces us to subject our passions to the cold analysis of rational thought. Oftentimes, this alone can have the effect of wet blanket on the fire of desire.

In a nutshell, forget good and evil and forget right and wrong. Think about it and you'll realize it's just not worth it!

*UPDATE II*

I return once again to this question (almost a year later, Nov. 27, 2014) with a new insight.

I realize now that I was reading the advice of "those who have conquered their Yeitzer" (the Moshlim) as a solution. Do a critical introspection, a Cheshbon HaNefesh, and then, presto - problem solved - you will be a Zahir. This is inaccurate.

Their advice is not a solution; it is a process.

The Ramchal described the problem with the Yeitzer. It is not just that it drives me to sin; it also corrupts my thinking. As a result, I cannot trust my judgement. So here is the advice. Make a cheshbon. Identify something, anything, even just one single little thing, that you want to eliminate from your behavior. Come up with a strategy. And then, for once in your life, overpower your negative drives, put your rational mind into the driver seat and do what you chose to do.

Here's the kicker: it does not matter if you are wrong! The point is that you decided to change your behavior - and you did. This exercise alone is a victory of mind over Yeitzer. No longer are you a blind man at the river's edge or a horse galloping through life unthinkingly. You thought, you decided, and you acted. You have taken the first step towards becoming a Moshel.

It is a process.

The more you make a cheshbon and follow through, the more you become a Moshel.

The more you become a Moshel, the more you loosen the Yeitzer's grip on your mind.

The freer you are of the Yeitzer, the clearer your vision becomes and the more accurate your sense of right and wrong.

And the more accurate your sense of right and wrong, the more Zahir you can be.

*UPDATE III* August, 2017

This insight gives us a new way to understand a familiar Talmudic teaching: "If this low life (the yertzer hara) confronts you, drag him to the Beis Medrash." This is typically interpreted in light of a different familiar teaching: "I created the yetzer hara and I created the Torah as an elixir." Torah study is the antidote to temptation, and so the sages advise that when the yetzer hara tempts you with sin, "drag him to the Beis Medrash." Sit down and learn Torah and all desires will dissipate.

There are two problems with this interpretation. The first is textual. If the Talmud wants to advocate Torah study as the antidote to the yetzer hara, then it should speak straight and say, עסוק בתורה, "toil in Torah." But it doesn't say that. Instead, it tells us to bring the yetzer hara into the Beis Medrash. What does that even mean? Shouldn't we leave the yetzer hara at the door? Why defile sacred space with evil?!

The second problem is that there are times and places where learning Torah is just not an option. For example, Torah study is strictly prohibited in areas where there is a foul odor. This includes bathrooms, bathhouses and tanneries. When a farmer fertilizes his field he may not learn. In such situations, what should a person do if he is confronted by the yetzer hara? Moreover, learning disabilities and ADHD make Torah study exceeding difficult for some Jews. What are they to do when they are confronted by the yetzer hara?

In light of the efficacy of cheshbon to undermine the yetzer hara, we can offer an alternative reading of the Talmud's advice. If the yetzer hara confronts you, drag him into a virtual Beis Medrash, sit him down and make him your chavrusa. Challenge him, question him, interrogate him. This conversation with the yetzer can be conducted anywhere, even inside a bathroom, and by anyone, no matter what their IQ. Under the bright lights of the "Beis Medrash" - simple questions and rational analysis - the yetzer hara shrivels up and dies.

Ultimately, the reason this method is so effective is not merely because passion is irrational, but because this line of questioning is essentially a quest for righteousness. As such, it is Mussar and thus a form of Torah, and as Rabbi Pinchas ben Yoir taught, Torah leads to Zehirus. To use Luzzatto's metaphor, Torah functions as the sole antibiotic for the bacteria of desire. Although Torah study is prohibited in the presence of an odor, nonetheless, we have no alternative other than to defend ourselves and defeat the yetzer hara in the foul dark places where he lurks.