Maybe It’s Not About You — BT Berakhot 6b — #18

R. Zeira said: The reward for attending a [Torah] lecture is for running [to hear it]. Abaye said: The reward for attending a Kallah is for being squeezed [by the crowd]. Rava said: The reward for a halakhic discussion is for the intellectual reasoning. Rav Pappa said: The reward for visiting a house of mourning is the silence. Mar Zutra said: The reward for fasting is for the tzedakah. Rav Sheishet said: The reward for delivering a eulogy is the wailing. Rav Ashi said: The reward for [attending] a wedding is the words [one says to the bride and groom].

INTRODUCTION
Not long ago, I overheard a man explain that it had rained the previous day because he had taken a day off from work to go to a ball game. I would have thought that he was simply make a wry comment about the unfortunate timing of the rain, but he next said that the rain was his punishment for being absent from work when a deadline was looming and he was needed at the office. Again, I might have chalked this off as a sardonic remark, but he finished by noting that this was not the first time God had punished him for slacking off. It is very common for people to assume a causal relationship between two events based on their sequential timing, even despite all reason. We are hardwired to seek pleasure and avoid pain (in their many manifestations: physical, emotional, spiritual). The notion of reward and punishment is an interpretation of the cause or meaning of the pleasure and pain we experience that we layer on top; this, too, seems to be hardwired. Perhaps so many think this way because most people are inclined to reward or punish others in order to influence their behavior, and presume God does the same.

“If people are good only because they fear punishment, and hope for reward, then we are a sorry lot indeed.” Albert Einstein   

Torah—especially the Book of Deuteronomy—tells us repeatedly that God is the divine purveyor of retributive justice: God rewards and punishes Israel in response to their obedience to, or violation of, the covenant. God brings or withholds rain, protects them from enemies or not, increases their herds and crop yields or not, and so on. The Rabbis held that God destroyed the Second Temple in 70 C.E. to punish the Jews for the sin of sinat chinam (gratuitous hatred) but then backed away from the stage of history. For the Rabbis, God, who was once intimately involved in the life of Israel, is distant, minimally involved, watching, waiting—God no longer jumps into the fray of world events to protect and redeem God’s people. If God is distant and detached, what does this say about the traditional belief in God’s reward and punishment?

“One response that is almost universally rejected by all thinking segments of the [Jewish] community is that the Holocaust is God’s punishment for Israel’s sin. If the Holocaust accomplished anything, it effectively killed the doctrine of retribution as the key to Jewish theodicies. It may have worked for centuries, but today it is viewed as an obscenity.” (Neil Gillman, Sacred Fragments, p. 202.

The doctrine of reward and punishment was challenged head-on in the aftermath of the Holocaust, but the roots of the challenge existed already in our Talmud.

COMMENTARY
Our passage provides a subtle and non-traditional way to think about the concept of divine reward in the new post-Temple reality.  Seven sages cite behaviors considered especially meritorious by the Rabbis: (1) attending the lecture of a prominent Torah scholar, (2) attending the twice yearly study convention that was held in Babylonia during this period in history, (3) participating in a halakhic discussion, (4) visiting someone in mourning, (5) fasting, (6) eulogizing the dead, and (7) attending a wedding. One would expect that simply engaging in these behaviors would bring reward, and the sages say it does, but not in the way you might expect: it comes in the form of an indirect or unintentional by-product of the act. When we examine the seven examples—the Rabbis provide an unusually generous number of examples—we find that the rewards are benefits that accrue to others. Running to hear a Torah lecture excites others about Torah study and inspires them to attend. Enlarging the crowd at the Kallah has a similar effect. The reasoning expended in a halakhic discussion elevates and enriches the experience for all present. Making a shiva call properly (i.e., quietly) creates a comfortable and comforting environment for mourners because they are not compelled to talk and are comforted by your presence. It is customary to give tzedakah on fast days and there are always people in need of tzedakah. A good eulogy allows the mourners to fully grieve. Words of either congratulations or entertainment directed to a bride and groom make their day more joyous and memorable.

Rather than asking, “How am I being rewarded?” ask yourself, “How does what I do reward and benefit others?”

 We often expect our behavior to result in a response that feels to us like a reward: if we do something good, we expect to be thanked or get credit. The Rabbis are teaching us that better than considering the reward we receive for our deeds (including our speech) is to consider how our words and deeds can reward others. This way of thinking can train us to think more broadly about our behavioral decisions and how we affect the world and those around us. It can help us feel satisfied and fulfilled when good things happen for others as a result of what we do, especially when we do not directly receive what feels like a “reward” such as recognition, praise, recompense, or honor.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER AND DISCUSS

1. As you experience the world, do you believe God rewards and punishes people on the basis of their behavior? Consider Neil Gillman’s quote (above). Do you agree or disagree?
2. Can you recall examples from your life when your good deed benefited someone else? Are you able to consider that your reward?
3. Imagine a mitzvah you might perform and the “reward” it might beget for someone else.