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By Alan Morinis Every Jewish holiday is a Mussar lesson. We are at the cusp of Passover, so let’s see what lessons this festival holds out to guide the journey of the soul. Let’s begin with a poem by Avraham ibn Ezra (c.1093-1167), one of the great Jewish poets of medieval Spain:
The reference to Pharaoh connects this poem to Pesach, which commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. The Reed Sea was split so the Jews could cross between walls of water that came crashing down on the pursuing Egyptians. The reference to Pharaoh connects this poem to Pesach, which commemorates the Exodus from Egypt. The Reed Sea was split so the Jews could cross between walls of water that came crashing down on the pursuing Egyptians. Ibn Ezra tells us that the disaster that befell the Egyptians was the inevitable outcome of a tyrant defying the will of God. That’s true not only for the Pharaohs and Hitlers of the world, however, but for anyone who gets so caught up with his or her own sense of self. Can anyone succeed who defies the Divine will? That’s an important lesson we are guided to draw from Pharaoh’s downfall. To phrase this another way, a human being should not be so deluded as to think that he or she can be a master of life. We surely have an obligation to make efforts to bring about the best possible outcome we can imagine, but the actual results of our efforts reflect the Divine will, not our own mastery over circumstances. When we pursue an agenda as if we really have the potential to control our lives, then we are giving ourselves over to the defiant inner tyrant who lives within each of us. A person who thinks like this is arrogant, and tradition condemns arrogance: “All who are proud of heart are an abomination to HaShem” (Proverbs 16:5). Here we find an important practical lesson in the Passover story that we can apply today: be on guard against arrogance. And indeed, the Pharaoh is traditionally understood to be an embodiment of the trait of arrogance, as revealed in his statement, "Who is Adonai, that I should heed His voice?" (Exodus 5:2). But there is more for us to learn from this poem. What does Ibn Ezra tell us is the punishment for arrogance? “An arrow will strike through his smugness and liver!”
The word that the translator renders as “smugness” is shalva. Usually, this term is translated as “serenity,” “tranquility” or “peace of mind” and it has a very positive connotation. Not here. We are cautioned that being at peace with our own delusions earns severe consequences. Our arrogance puts us at risk, but we are even more at risk of facing “the slings and arrows” of fortune when we are not just arrogant, but comfortably so. But why the liver? Why doesn’t arrogance lead to an arrow through the puffed-up heart or the deluded mind? Is there some message in this choice to target the liver? In Hebrew, the liver is called kaved. That same word shows up in another very important usage, where it means “glory.” In the daily prayers, we say about God, Melo kol ha’aretz kevodo—The whole world is filled with His glory—where “glory” is kavod. (As an aside, both notions perhaps derive from the root meaning of kaved, which is “heavy”.) We are meant to understand an arrow through the liver as the puncturing of the vain glory that accompanies arrogance. That makes sense of this verse in a practical way. It cautions that if you glory in your self, the majesty you project will be shot down. Another warning and lesson. We’re not quite finished, though. That word kaved has a direct link to the Pesach story in a key way. As Moses was making repeated trips to Pharaoh’s court to demand freedom for the people, God said to Moses, “Pharaoh is obstinate and he refuses to let the people leave” (Exodus 7:14). The Hebrew term used here (as well as elsewhere) for Pharaoh’s “obstinacy” is “kaved lev.” Lev means “heart.” And there’s that same word kaved we’ve already encountered in its meanings of “liver” and “glory” (as well as “heavy”). What could the connection be to stubbornness? Our Sages have already associated the term kaved (obstinate) with kaved (liver) in a midrash: “Just as the liver becomes angry, so does this one’s heart become a liver. He does not understand; he is a fool” (Shemot Rabbah 9). The heart becomes a liver? In Jewish thought, each organ of the body has its own characteristics. The liver is associated with the emotion of anger while the heart is the organ of understanding and so reflects the quality of wisdom. When the inner life is properly ordered, the heart controls the liver, which means that wisdom predominates over anger. But one who is angry -- his heart is ruled by his liver. And he is brought down. Pharaoh proves the point. Not only was Pharaoh arrogant, he repeatedly got angry. What did Pharaoh gain through his stubbornness and anger? One plague after another, humiliation and suffering for himself, his people and even the animals of the land, and ultimately destruction at the Reed Sea. Because we, too, are prone to arrogance and anger, the lessons apply to us as well. Pharaoh teaches us about the two separate traits of arrogance and anger, both of which have the potential to bring us down. “Pride goes before destruction” (Proverbs 16:18) and “If one gets angry, all manners of hell rule over him” (Nedarim 22a). But the deepest lesson that I want to draw here is to alert you to the fact that arrogance and anger are actually two sides of the same coin. Rabbi Abahu in the Talmud (Sotah 40a) said, “At first I thought I was humble, but when I saw that Rabbi Abba of Acco gave one reason and his interpreter another, and he still did not become angry, I said to myself, ‘I am not humble.’” He is pointing out that anger and arrogance go hand in hand, and the corollary is that humility and calmness are a pair. In the Mussar classic The Path of the Just (ch.22), Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto teaches: “The humble person is never aroused to anger and to controversy; he does everything quietly and calmly.” As you go to the Passover seder this year, bear in mind that the Exodus story holds out a very important lesson. We must all watch out for the Pharaoh within—that inner root that gives rise to both arrogance and anger. That root takes hold when we mistake life to be a journey of the self, when it is in reality a journey of the soul. The soul is light; the self, heavy. Teach others. |
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