Ever feel like things just... fizzle out? Like a great idea that never takes off, or a relationship that starts strong but fades? We've all been there. But what if the ending could actually be better than the beginning? That's the intriguing idea explored in Kohelet Rabbah, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Ecclesiastes.
The verse in question is Ecclesiastes 7:8: "The end of a matter is better than its beginning; one of patient spirit is better than one of proud spirit." The rabbis, as they often do, unpack this verse with stories and thought-provoking examples.
One particularly striking story involves Rabbi Meir and his former teacher, Elisha ben Avuya – a brilliant scholar who tragically fell from grace. Rabbi Meir is teaching in Tiberias when he learns that Elisha is riding through the marketplace on Shabbat – a clear violation of Jewish law. He goes to meet his former teacher, and their conversation is laced with both respect and profound sadness.
Rabbi Meir tells Elisha that he's been discussing the verse "The Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning" (Job 42:12). Elisha corrects him, saying that Rabbi Akiva, their teacher, taught that Job's later blessings were a result of his repentance and good deeds. This sets the stage for a deeper discussion about endings and beginnings.
Rabbi Meir offers several interpretations of "the end of a matter is better than its beginning." He suggests it could refer to a merchant who finds success later in life, or a person who loses children in their youth but finds solace and continuity in old age. He even suggests it could describe someone who does wicked deeds when young, but turns to good deeds later in life, or someone who forgets their Torah learning, but then rediscovers it.
But Elisha isn't convinced. He counters that the end of a matter is only good if it was good from the beginning. He then shares a painful story from his own life. His father, Avuya, celebrated his birth with a lavish feast, inviting prominent scholars like Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua. The atmosphere was electric, filled with Torah study that felt as vibrant as the revelation at Sinai. Avuya, impressed by the power of Torah, declared that he would dedicate his son to its study. But, Elisha laments, because his father's intention wasn't purely for the sake of Heaven, his own Torah learning didn't endure.
The story then delves into the reasons for Elisha’s tragic downfall. One account says that Elisha became disillusioned after witnessing what he perceived as injustice. He saw a man violate the commandment to send away the mother bird before taking the fledglings (Deuteronomy 22:7). The man climbed the tree and took both the mother and the fledglings, but came to no harm, and, later, another man who observed the commandment died after doing so. Elisha questioned the fairness of divine reward and punishment, forgetting Rabbi Akiva's teaching that the reward for mitzvot is experienced in the Olam Ha'ba (the World to Come). Another version says that Elisha had a craving for idol worship instilled in him when his pregnant mother ate food from a pagan sacrifice. Still another says that he was disgusted by the sight of Rabbi Yehuda the baker's tongue in the mouth of a dog.
Whatever the reason, Elisha’s story serves as a cautionary tale. He even heard a Divine Voice proclaiming that repentance was possible for everyone "except for Elisha ben Avuya, who was aware of My might and rebelled against Me."
Despite his state, Rabbi Meir never gives up on his teacher. When Elisha falls ill, Rabbi Meir visits him and urges him to repent. Elisha wonders if repentance is even possible for him at this point. Rabbi Meir responds, quoting Psalms 90:3, reminding him that God accepts repentance even when one's soul is crushed. At that moment, Elisha weeps and dies, leading Rabbi Meir to believe that his teacher had finally repented.
After Elisha's death, a fire engulfs his grave. Rabbi Meir, ever loyal, spreads his garment over the grave, reciting verses from Ruth, pleading for Elisha's redemption. It's a powerful scene of a student's unwavering devotion to his teacher, even after his teacher has strayed from the path.
The story doesn't end there. Later, Elisha's daughters are in need, and initially, they are denied charity. However, after it is revealed that they possess the wisdom of their father and demonstrate modest comportment, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi recognizes the value of their lineage and orders that they be supported. This act acknowledges that even from a broken vessel, something of value can remain.
The text then moves on to another interpretation of "one of patient spirit is better than one of proud spirit," contrasting the approaches of Rav and Shmuel in teaching a Persian convert the Hebrew alphabet. Rav, impatient and demanding, quickly dismisses the Persian when he questions the letters. Shmuel, on the other hand, patiently guides him, ultimately leading him to accept the Torah.
Finally, the text relates a story about Aquila, a proselyte, who questioned Rabbi Eliezer about the love God has for converts. Rabbi Eliezer's initial response seems dismissive, focusing only on the basic necessities of "bread and a garment" (Deuteronomy 10:18). However, Rabbi Yehoshua offers a more nuanced and encouraging interpretation, equating "bread" with Torah and "garment" with glory.
These stories highlight the importance of patience, understanding, and the enduring power of Torah. They remind us that even when things start poorly, or when people stumble along the way, the possibility of a better ending always exists. And that sometimes, the most effective way to guide someone is not through harsh judgment, but through patient encouragement and a willingness to see the good that remains.
So, what do you think? Can the end truly be better than the beginning? And what role does patience play in helping ourselves and others achieve that better ending? It's definitely something to ponder.