The mishnaic sage Ben Zoma famously asked four rhetorical questions, recorded in the first mishnah of Pirkei Avot, Chapter 4:

Ben Zoma said: Who is wise? He who learns from every man… Who is mighty? He who subdues his [evil] inclination… Who is rich? He who rejoices in his lot… Who is he who is honored? He who honors his fellow human beings.”

Ben Zoma takes four sought-after characteristics and turns them on their head. Who is wise? Not the one who knows the most, but the one who learns from the most people. Who is mighty? Not the one who demonstrates his strength by subduing the most external enemies, but the one who turns his strength inward. Who is rich? Not the one with the most material possessions, but the one who derives the most satisfaction from whatever he does have. Who is honored? Not the one who received the most honor, but the one who gives it.

But one of these things is not like the other. The first three qualities—wisdom, might and bravery—are virtues that belong to a person. A person is wise, strong or rich because of things that she herself knows, does or has. But honor is relational. To be “honored,” mechubad, implies that you are honored by someone else. Honor, which depends on others, is not something that we can change solely by changing our own attitude.

What does it mean to say that the person who is honored is really the person who honors others? Perhaps Ben Zoma is giving practical advice on how to garner respect from others, something like “give respect to get respect.” If so, his claim that one who honors others is honored at least makes sense, but it ceases to fit with his other three questions. When he says that to be rich we should be happy with what we have, it’s not a get-rich-quick scheme designed to generate, in the end, more money in the bank. It would seem strange for the fourth question to in fact be not a redefinition of honor but a way to get honor as conventionally defined.

To fully understand Ben Zoma, we need to examine his entire statement—not just the rhetorical question and answer, but the proof text as well. When it comes to honor, Ben Zoma’s proof text comes from I Sam. 2:30, “For I honor those who honor Me, but those who spurn Me shall be dishonored” (I Samuel 2:30). In context, the verse records the message of a prophet who came to rebuke the high priest at the time, Eili, for the way he allowed his sons to turn the Mishkan into a place of abuse rather than holiness. The prophet goes on to promise Eili that Eili’s lineage will continue, but it will suffer in secondary positions while God chooses a more faithful family of high priests.

At first pass, this proof text suggests a redefinition of what it means to be mechubad. Honor is relational—it depends on the view of someone outside yourself—but the One it depends on is God, not other humans. When Ben Zoma says that one who is honored is one who honors others, perhaps he is saying that the one who deserves honor from God is the one who honors others.

Further, if we recall that humans carry God’s image in the world, perhaps Ben Zoma’s proof text has another layer as well. When the prophet, speaking for God, says, “For I honor those who honor Me,” Ben Zoma reads him as saying that God will honor those who honor God’s human creatures (beriyot).

I would like to offer another approach as well. I opened with the question of how Ben Zoma could define “honor,” which depends on the perception of others, as depending solely on one’s own actions (of honoring other people). Perhaps this contradiction is exactly Ben Zoma’s point. Ben Zoma challenges the reader to discard conventional concern for honor in the eyes of others, and to relate to “honor” only as an obligation incumbent upon oneself, as something one gives rather than receives. He thus flips honor entirely on its head.

If the fourth statement is a radical reversal, what about the other three?

Working backward: “Who is rich? One who is satisfied with his lot.” The implication is that “his lot” is small. Indeed, someone truly happy with his lot would be unlikely to continue to accumulate enough to be “rich.” So who is rich? Usually someone who is poor.

“Who is mighty (gibbor)? One who subdues his inclination.” The word “gibbor” in Tanach generally refers to a military hero, and conjures images of machismo. To say that a “gibbor” is someone who subdues his “inclination,” which may refer either to a general impulse toward self-aggrandizement and sin or to a sexual impulse in particular, conjures the opposite image: not the macho war hero but a gentle, inwardly directed person.

Finally, “Who is wise? He who learns from every man.” The plain meaning is that to be truly wise one does not write off any human being as having nothing to teach. Learning from “every man” implies learning even from people who seem foolish or wrong.

An interesting, counterintuitive reading of this statement is brought in the name of the Ba’al Shem Tov. According to the Ba’al Shem Tov, it is true that the “every man” from whom the “wise” person of our mishnah learns is someone with many faults. But the wise person is not wise because he can pick out the powerful kernels hidden under the human chaff. Rather, the wise person sees the flaws of “every person” and through those very flaws, sees flaws in himself. It is easy to find fault in others, but the wise person understands that anything he can see in someone else probably exists in him too in some way. What makes someone wise is not knowledge, but the capacity for self-criticism.

Ben Zoma teaches that none of the four virtues he deconstructs—wisdom, might, riches, or honor—are what they seem; upon examination, they are quite the opposite. Implementing the message of Ben Zoma demands a radical openness to critiquing our unstated assumptions. This is difficult, but it starts with openness to learning from every person.

By Miriam Gedwiser

Miriam Gedwiser teaches Talmud and Tanach at the Ramaz Upper School and is on the faculty of the Drisha Kollel, an immersive summer learning experience for college students and recent graduates. She is a consulting editor for The Lehrhaus, and lives in Teaneck with her family.