“The doer of good becomes good. The doer of evil becomes evil. One becomes virtuous by virtuous actions – bad, by bad actions.” – (Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad 4.4.5)
Students in JCHS’s Comparative Religion encounter this statement, courtesy of John Green’s cheeky but illuminating Crash Course video on Ancient History, and while it might seem at first self-evident, tautological, even, there is more going on here than meets the eye: how many actions, good or bad, will turn me into a good person? Do good and bad actions nullify each other, like deposits and withdrawals, or is a bad action like a red light — after speeding through a series of green lights, even a single violation is punishable, dangerous, potentially deadly.
Sanatana Dharma, the philosophical and theological system underlying what we know as Hindusim, has engaged with these questions for five millenia. Closer to home, a nice cognate to this dharmic precept lies in the line from Pirkei Avot 4:2: ( מצווה גוררת מצווה, עברה גוררת עברה).” A mitzvah leads to a mitzvah. A misdeed leads to a misdeed.” Encountering this idea in yeshiva as a twenty-something, I thought it was a “skip-over” line, a simple reminder that we create habits for ourselves. But over the years, I have become more aware of my choices, my habits, my behaviors — and the way, by dint of these behaviors, I have become who I am. Perhaps my life feels more “locked in” as a fifty-year old. Perhaps I feel more “permanent” than I really am — when in reality, who am I if not the sum total of the choices I’ve made, both big and small. I am, in that sense, always ready for reinvention, for bad and for good.
At the beginning of the year, a student noticed an interesting parallel between the Garden of Eden text and the story of Yaakov and Esav, in which Yiztchak tells the distraught Esav, his son, that his brother Yaakov took the birthright with “guile” or “cunning” — through מִרְמָ֑ה (Gen 27:35). This word, mirmah, is sonically resonant to the one which describes the serpent of the garden, who is more “עָר֔וּם” (arum)
— cunning, deceitful than all other creatures. We can learn from this, the student suggested, that when we act in a manner like the serpent, it doesn’t matter what fancy excuses we bring – we become the serpent.
In that sense, we are what we play the role of. Every misdeed leads to more misdeeds, as we evolve into the being who does these things. And every mitzvah, or, if you will, each act of good karma, leads us not necessarily to rewards in this life, but rather to further steps in the becoming of who we are. On the one hand, this “life hangs in the balance” way of looking at ourselves can be motivating. On the other, it can be overwhelming. Even paralyzing.
Rebbe Nachman, Chassidic leader from the early 1800s, calls on us to hold two truths at once. He observes that the first word of this parsha, Vayikra, is written with a small aleph. It is smaller than the other letters, but not at all invisible. This, he says, the the balance we must strike. If the alef is big enough, the word is vayikra. Vayikra means “and He called.” It implies purposeful contact. On the other hand, if it is small enough, it is Vayikar – which implies happenstance – “and He happened upon.” We must find a balance, in other words, between too much – and too little examination of our deeds. We cannot hesitate to speak out or act for fear of unexpected consequences, becoming paralyzed by possible misjudgments. And we must not take lightly the gravity of our actions. In other words, yes, the doer of evil does become evil, to return to our dharmic doctrine; and the doer of good becomes good. But we are all both doers of good and also doers of harm. Neither negates the other. The size of the little alef makes a huge difference.
This week, I aim to observe myself – to keep in perspective the choices which seem big in the moment, but will pass away into memory and oblivion, leaving no trace. And the actions which seem small, like this student’s drash — an assignment, like so many others on an unremarkable Wednesday, which struck me… leaving me, months later, to puzzle, to reflect. May we all navigate the balance of the Aleph; letting go when it’s time to let go, and becoming who we want to be, doers of good, step by conscious, careful, balanced step.
