Chochmas Yovon vs. ma’asav merubin michochmaso

16 – Chochmas Yovon vs. ma’asav merubin michochmaso

Ma’asav merubin michochmaso

We often perceive Chochmas Yovon (Greek Wisdom) as an external threat—something out in the broader world that we must guard against. However, the reality is that Chochmas Yovon operates within us, influencing our perspectives and choices. To understand this, we must explore the distinction between Chochmas Yovon and Chochmas HaTorah.

Chochmas Yovon is not merely the absence of “ma’asav merubin michochmaso” (one whose actions exceed his wisdom)—it is far more damaging. Yet, if we possess “ma’asav merubin michochmaso”, we definitely are not Chochmas Yovon. Why? Because Chochmas Yovon, despite its great intellect and sophistication, fails to translate wisdom into action. It remains disconnected from practical deeds.

By contrast, Chochmas HaTorah is rooted in a transformative purpose: it is wisdom designed to make a human being grow. To truly grasp this principle, we must delve into the Mishnas dealing with “ma’asav merubin michochmaso.”

Pirkei Avos (3:9)

רַבִּי חֲנִינָא בֶן דּוֹסָא אוֹמֵר, כָּל שֶׁיִּרְאַת חֶטְאוֹ קוֹדֶמֶת לְחָכְמָתוֹ, חָכְמָתוֹ מִתְקַיֶּמֶת. וְכָל שֶׁחָכְמָתוֹ קוֹדֶמֶת לְיִרְאַת חֶטְאוֹ, אֵין חָכְמָתוֹ מִתְקַיֶּמֶת. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, כָּל שֶׁמַּעֲשָׂיו מְרֻבִּין מֵחָכְמָתוֹ, חָכְמָתוֹ מִתְקַיֶּמֶת. וְכָל שֶׁחָכְמָתוֹ מְרֻבָּה מִמַּעֲשָׂיו, אֵין חָכְמָתוֹ מִתְקַיֶּמֶת:

Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa said: anyone whose fear of sin precedes his wisdom, his wisdom is enduring, but anyone whose wisdom precedes his fear of sin, his wisdom is not enduring. He [also] used to say: anyone whose deeds exceed his wisdom, his wisdom is enduring, but anyone whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, his wisdom is not enduring.

Pirkei Avos (3:17)

רַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן עֲזַרְיָה אוֹמֵר, אִם אֵין תּוֹרָה, אֵין דֶּרֶךְ אֶרֶץ. אִם אֵין דֶּרֶךְ אֶרֶץ, אֵין תּוֹרָה. אִם אֵין חָכְמָה, אֵין יִרְאָה. אִם אֵין יִרְאָה, אֵין חָכְמָה. אִם אֵין בִּינָה, אֵין דַּעַת. אִם אֵין דַּעַת, אֵין בִּינָה. אִם אֵין קֶמַח, אֵין תּוֹרָה. אִם אֵין תּוֹרָה, אֵין קֶמַח. הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, כָּל שֶׁחָכְמָתוֹ מְרֻבָּה מִמַּעֲשָׂיו, לְמַה הוּא דוֹמֶה, לְאִילָן שֶׁעֲנָפָיו מְרֻבִּין וְשָׁרָשָׁיו מֻעָטִין, וְהָרוּחַ בָּאָה וְעוֹקַרְתּוֹ וְהוֹפַכְתּוֹ עַל פָּנָיו, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (ירמיה יז) וְהָיָה כְּעַרְעָר בָּעֲרָבָה וְלֹא יִרְאֶה כִּי יָבוֹא טוֹב וְשָׁכַן חֲרֵרִים בַּמִּדְבָּר אֶרֶץ מְלֵחָה וְלֹא תֵשֵׁב. אֲבָל כָּל שֶׁמַּעֲשָׂיו מְרֻבִּין מֵחָכְמָתוֹ, לְמַה הוּא דוֹמֶה, לְאִילָן שֶׁעֲנָפָיו מֻעָטִין וְשָׁרָשָׁיו מְרֻבִּין, שֶׁאֲפִלּוּ כָל הָרוּחוֹת שֶׁבָּעוֹלָם בָּאוֹת וְנוֹשְׁבוֹת בּוֹ אֵין מְזִיזִין אוֹתוֹ מִמְּקוֹמוֹ, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר (שם) וְהָיָה כְּעֵץ שָׁתוּל עַל מַיִם וְעַל יוּבַל יְשַׁלַּח שָׁרָשָׁיו וְלֹא יִרְאֶה כִּי יָבֹא חֹם, וְהָיָה עָלֵהוּ רַעֲנָן, וּבִשְׁנַת בַּצֹּרֶת לֹא יִדְאָג, וְלֹא יָמִישׁ מֵעֲשׂוֹת פֶּרִי:

Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah said: Where there is no Torah, there is no right conduct; where there is no right conduct, there is no Torah. Where there is no wisdom, there is no fear of God; where there is no fear of God, there is no wisdom. Where there is no understanding, there is no knowledge; where there is no knowledge, there is no understanding. Where there is no bread, there is no Torah; where there is no Torah, there is no bread. He used to say: one whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, to what may he be compared? To a tree whose branches are numerous but whose roots are few, so that when the wind comes, it uproots it and overturns it, as it is said, “He shall be like a bush in the desert, which does not sense the coming of good. It is set in the scorched places of the wilderness, in a barren land without inhabitant” (Jeremiah 17:6). But one whose deeds exceed his wisdom, to what may he be compared? To a tree whose branches are few but roots are many, so that even if all the winds in the world come and blow upon it, they cannot move it out of its place, as it is said, “He shall be like a tree planted by waters, sending forth its roots by a stream. It does not sense the coming of heat, its leaves are ever fresh. It has no care in a year of drought; it does not cease to yield fruit” (ibid, 17:8).

Let us examine the latter Mishna:

The Mishna compares a person’s actions to the roots of a tree and their wisdom to the branches. But how does this metaphor make sense? After all, roots are what nourish and support the growth of the branches, not the other way around!

The confusion stems from our typical assumption: we believe that wisdom comes first, serving as the source or driving force of action. This assumption implies that wisdom is greater than actions!

What this Mishna is teaching us, however, is revolutionary. It shifts the paradigm by asserting that it is the actions that truly nurture and enable the growth of profound wisdom. In other words, the “meruba” must belong to the ma’asim, and from those actions, an extraordinary depth of chochma will flourish.

Let us illustrate this concept with a practical example. Consider the following scenario:

We drink a beverage and then forget whether we said Borei Nefashos. So, we drink again—and again forget if we said Borei Nefashos! Our natural response might be to assume that we need to strengthen our focus on the bracha acharona (blessing after eating). Perhaps we resolve to study two commentaries on the bracha to internalize its importance. Realistically, however, such efforts might help once or twice, but soon enough, we find ourselves forgetting again. What is going on within us?

The issue lies deeper than a lack of knowledge or focus. The reason that we don’t forget to say the bracha rishona (first blessing before eating) is because the food or drink is sitting in front of us, waiting to be engaged with. The external object compels our awareness and action. But the bracha acharona is different: it reflects a change that has already occurred within us. Before eating or drinking, we were hungry or thirsty, and after consuming, we are satisfied. The physical item—food or drink—has disappeared into us, leaving only an internal shift in its place, that of satiation. We struggle with the bracha acharona because we are so disconnected from our personal olam hamayseh (realm of action) that we fail to relate to the internal change that has taken place.

This highlights our larger challenge: our actions and awareness are often driven by external stimuli, but we remain distant from our internal world of change. In other words, we think we are removed from the Greeks who had “wisdom” without “positive action” but we see that we ourselves have situations where we have chochma in the form of an intellectual depth to the bracha acharona after reading the commentaries on it which does not translate into our olam hamayseh! 

As we are about to explain in greater detail, working on our own personal ma’asav merubin michochmaso is the foundation of our fight against Yovon.

What does Bitachon have to do with all of this?

Let us look at the context of the verses which are brought in the Mishna as support for the concepts we are discussing (Yirmiyahu 17:5-8);

כֹּ֣ה ׀ אָמַ֣ר ה’ אָר֤וּר הַגֶּ֙בֶר֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִבְטַ֣ח בָּאָדָ֔ם וְשָׂ֥ם בָּשָׂ֖ר זְרֹע֑וֹ וּמִן־הֹ’ יָס֥וּר לִבּֽוֹ׃

Thus said Hashem:

Cursed is the man who trusts in mortals,

Who makes mere flesh his strength,

And turns his thoughts from Hashem.

וְהָיָה֙ כְּעַרְעָ֣ר בָּעֲרָבָ֔ה וְלֹ֥א יִרְאֶ֖ה כִּֽי־יָ֣בוֹא ט֑וֹב וְשָׁכַ֤ן חֲרֵרִים֙ בַּמִּדְבָּ֔ר אֶ֥רֶץ מְלֵחָ֖ה וְלֹ֥א תֵשֵֽׁב׃    

He shall be like a bush in the desert,

Which does not sense the coming of good:

It is set in the scorched places of the wilderness,

In a barren land without inhabitant.

בָּר֣וּךְ הַגֶּ֔בֶר אֲשֶׁ֥ר יִבְטַ֖ח בַּה’ וְהָיָ֥ה ה’ מִבְטַחֽוֹ׃

Blessed is the man who trusts in Hashem,

Whose trust is Hashem alone.

וְהָיָ֞ה כְּעֵ֣ץ ׀ שָׁת֣וּל עַל־מַ֗יִם וְעַל־יוּבַל֙ יְשַׁלַּ֣ח שׇׁרָשָׁ֔יו וְלֹ֤א (ירא) [יִרְאֶה֙] כִּי־יָ֣בֹא חֹ֔ם וְהָיָ֥ה עָלֵ֖הוּ רַעֲנָ֑ן וּבִשְׁנַ֤ת בַּצֹּ֙רֶת֙ לֹ֣א יִדְאָ֔ג וְלֹ֥א יָמִ֖ישׁ מֵעֲשׂ֥וֹת פֶּֽרִי׃

He shall be like a tree planted by waters,

Sending forth its roots by a stream:

It does not sense the coming of heat,

Its leaves are ever fresh;

It has no care in a year of drought,

It does not cease to yield fruit.

The verse, “Blessed is the man who trusts in Hashem” (Yirmiyahu 17:7), in context, is not emphasizing the concept of ma’asav merubin michochmaso—it is teaching us about bitachon. Similarly, the preceding verse, “Cursed is the man who relies on his arm strength” (Yirmiyahu 17:5), is about bitachon.

This raises a crucial question: What connection does ma’asav merubin michochmaso have to bitachon? Why does the Mishna use these verses specifically as proof to support its teaching?

The definition of Bitachon

Rav Chaim Shmulevitz once concluded a shmuz and stood up, saying:
“My Rebbe, Rav Yeruchom, told me there would come a time when I would need to speak about bitachon. Let me tell you what bitachon is.”

He shared the following story:

There was once a man who had no parnassa (livelihood). People asked him, “What will be?” and he replied, “Bitachon, Hashem will take care.” Over time, he sold his wagon, and when asked again about his situation, he responded, “Bitachon, Hashem will take care.” Later, he sold his horse and spent his days saying Tehillim. Eventually, the horse returned, pulling a wagon full of riches.

At the time, I felt deeply ashamed listening to this. Here was Rav Chaim Shmulevitz, a towering intellectual genius, quoting Rav Yeruchom, an even greater genius, and what emerged was a message that seemed so un-intellectual!

But in truth, this is the very essence of bitachon. It is an experience, not an intellectual exercise. Bitachon means allowing something to enter our world completely, even if it contradicts our logical thinking. It is the readiness to live a life where intellect and logic do not make the determination. When we are willing to embrace a life without a mehalech—without explanation—that is bitachon.

Back to Bracha Acharona

That moment when we think to ourselves, “I am now feeling satisfied!” When we view this sensation through the lens of avodas Hashem, it becomes transformative. This feeling opens us up and leads us toward hakaras HaBorei, connecting us to something beyond all limitations—a profound awareness of Hashem.

What’s remarkable is that this connection doesn’t emerge from a logical, intellectual process because ultimately we simply sit there “no longer hungry,” yet the action turns into a source of our chochma. In other words, the wisdom it imparts is not the product of intense intellectual effort, but rather because the mayseh created within us a deep recognition of reality.

This is the way of true avodah: it begins with our actions. The actions are the roots and the source, nurturing and causing the chochma to grow. However, we often resist this process, wanting it to work the other way around. But the truth remains: it is through our maysim that wisdom is cultivated.

(Bitachon is being brought up here because we are highlighting that this experience of “chochma coming from the feeling of being full” is not a psychological trick, but it is an authentic ruchniyus experience.)

How davening should work according to this yesod

To take this yesod (principle) into tefila (prayer), when we daven (pray), the goal should not be to prepare a deep explanation for each word and sentence and then as we say shemoneh esrei, review the explanations we read earlier. Rather, if we realize that our obligation to daven does not stem from understanding the depth of the prayers, but rather stems from a simple obligation of avoda to speak and understand these specific words in a natural way. Then when we daven, we will find a whole personal world open up as we identify personally with what is occurring in the words of the tefila. 

A personal example

Here is a personal example of where my maysim brought me unbelievable chochma:

When I am in America for Shabbos and find myself at a kiddush after davening, I stand to the side. My personality doesn’t align with the environs of small talk—where, mid-sentence, someone might abruptly stop speaking with me and start a conversation with someone else passing by. I feel like a hockey puck, shot across the ice in all directions! Fast forward to my own Shabbos table, which now includes grandchildren. What am I supposed to do with grandchildren at the table? Ideally, I would lead an orderly seudah. But what do my grandchildren truly need from me? They need small talk! As I engage in the lemayseh activity of small talk, I discover a whole new world of chochma unfolding before me. It’s a wisdom I never anticipated having access to, and it emerged from the action itself. 

I didn’t arrive at this by intellectual contemplation—by meditating on how my grandchildren are my legacy, carrying the weight of our family’s future, or reflecting on their precious neshamos. Instead, it began with the mayseh. By stepping into the moment and doing what needed to be done, a profound world of chochma revealed itself to me.

This, indeed, is the essence of ma’asav merubin michochmaso.

A Chanukah example

We want to stay where we are and go with our ratzon. But ma’asav merubin michochmaso means to do what is needed, and from there chochma grows. It means that our world and experience is a source of chochma. 

Rav Shlomo Zalman explained that we eat sufganiyot (jelly donuts) on Chanukah because sufganiyot are mezonos which require the bracha acharona of Al Hamichya and when we say Al Hamichya, as opposed to when we Bentch, there are the words asking that Hashem have compassion “Al Mizbechecha, V’Al Heichalecha” (Literally: “on your altar, and on your dwelling place” – i.e. the very celebration of Chanukah is related to the Chanukas hamizbeach and the rededication of the Beis Hamikdash for avodas Hashem and so we specifically want to say the bracha acharona of “Al Hamichya” on Chanukah as it includes this unique prayer which all other bracha acharonas omit.)

How did Rav Shlomo Zalman come to this explanation for sufganiyot on Chanukah? It is simply because he always said his bracha acharonas slowly and simply, and so naturally he recognized that these few words are unique to the Al Hamichya bracha acharona, and then on Chanukah when he was saying the words again, he understood – “Ah, this is why we eat sufganiyot on Chanukah!” 

His mayseh was the root of his chochma.

This is a new approach for us, we are only touching the beginning of it.