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Dear Yeshiva Family,
In this week's parashah, we encounter the infamous city of Sodom — a society that didn't merely tolerate evil, but institutionalized it. Their legal system forbade kindness and outlawed generosity. Acts of charity, hospitality, or helping the underdog were crimes. Cruelty was government policy.
Chazal capture the moral root of Sodom in an intriguing Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (5:13):
"There are four types of dispositions among people. One who says, 'What's mine is mine and what's yours is yours' — this is a middah beinonis (an average trait), but some say it is the middah of Sodom.
One who says, 'What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine' — that is an am ha'aretz (an unlearned person).
One who says, 'What's mine is yours and what's yours is yours' — that is a chassid (a devout person).
And one who says, 'What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine' — that is a rasha (a wicked person)."
I'd like to explore several layers of this Mishnah — particularly why "What's mine is mine and what's yours is yours" can, depending on the lens, be seen as either neutral (beinonis) or utterly corrupt (middas Sodom).
Several Questions
My first question is: what exactly is the machlokes, the dispute, between the first two opinions offered in the Mishnah? When someone says, "What's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours," is that a balanced, average outlook — or is it the destructive middah of Sodom? What does that depend on? What are they arguing about?
And according to the opinion that calls it middas Sodom — does that mean there is no middle ground at all? If that's so, the Mishnah would seem to leave no room for an "average" person. You're either a chassid, a rasha, or a Sodomite! What happened to the ordinary, decent guy who isn't a saint, but not corrupt either? And furthermore, is there really a difference between middas Sodom and rasha? What defines their differences?
Lastly, why does the Mishnah phrase it as "ha'omer" — one who says? Each example begins with someone saying these words — ha'omer shali sheli, shelcha shelcha. Why emphasize speech? Why not simply say "ha'noheg" — one who behaves this way?
With these questions in mind, let's explore this Mishnah more deeply.
What does "what's yours is yours" mean?
To begin addressing our first question, we can note that the Mishnah's phrase actually contains two separate statements: "What's mine is mine" and "What's yours is yours." There are two ways to interpret both of these statements, and let's start by focusing on the second part — "what's yours is yours."
Why would someone take that stance? The Maharal explains that it's possible that this person views the world in purely pragmatic terms. "What's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours" represents the essence of capitalism: you work hard, you earn; I work hard, I earn. Let fairness prevail. Everyone minds their own business, and no one owes anything to anyone else beyond what the law demands.
In fact, it can even be viewed as a virtue, I do not want to benefit from something I did not earn, I do not want to be a 'taker'!o not want to benefit from something I did not earn, I do not want to be a 'taker'!
The Rabbeinu Yonah asks a crucial question: if this person gives no tzedakah at all, then of course he's a rasha! He's ignoring a direct mitzvah of the Torah. Rabbeinu Yonah answers that clearly, the Mishnah must be describing someone who does fulfill the mitzvah of tzedakah — but not out of compassion or belief in its value. He gives only because he has to, not because he wants to.
Based on this Rabbeinu Yonah, we can explain the wording of the Mishnah. This person's actions may be correct, but his hashkafah is not. The reason it says "ha'omer", "one who says" is because he may actually be giving the required Tzedaka that his society demands, and he may be paying his taxes, which support a welfare system for those truly in need, but internally he maintains a philosophy of strict fairness, not kindness. He'll do what the Torah commands, but never more. He'll follow the rules, but never lift his heart.
This is, in a sense, the purest expression of unbridled capitalism: "You work, you earn. I work, I earn. Let the system be fair and even." The Mishnah, therefore, describes this as a middah beinonis — a middle-of-the-road ideology. It's not evil, but it's not yet the Torah's ideal.
Sodom's "what is yours is yours'.
There is, however, another way to understand the statement "what's yours is yours." It's not merely an extension of the fairness philosophy — it reveals something deeper within a person's psyche.
In this second reading, the real focus is not on "what's yours is yours," but on "what's mine is mine." The person's underlying attitude is: "All I care about is keeping what's mine." The phrase "what's yours is yours" isn't motivated by respect or fairness — it's a protective shield that justifies his selfishness. In order for me to make sure I never have to give you anything, I must adopt a policy that you can't give me anything either. How else will you survive, and how else can I justify my own keeping things to myself.
In other words, "what's yours is yours" is not an expression of principle; it's a strategy. I declare that you may not benefit me, only so that I can be justified in never benefitting you. The first opinion in the Mishnah wasn't anti-kindness — it was simply pragmatic, a capitalist fairness: you earn your way, I'll earn mine. That's not evil.
But the second opinion sees something darker in pure unadulterated capitalism, it sees cruelty. It's not "I don't want to take from you," but "I don't want to give to you." It's not the dignity of independence — it's the ideology of indifference. The difference between these two approaches comes to light in a very practical case: what happens if I can give you something that costs me nothing?
According to the first opinion — the middah beinonis — if it costs me nothing, I'd give it to you. Why not? I lose nothing.
But according to the second opinion — middas Sodom — that's exactly what I resist. The moment I benefit you, even at no loss to myself, I've violated my creed. And that is the essence of Sodom. A society that sees kindness itself as a threat; that fears the softening of the heart more than it fears injustice.
This also helps us answer our earlier question: according to the opinion that views "what's mine is mine and what's yours is yours" as middas Sodom, does that mean there's no room for an average, decent, fair-minded person? Must one choose between being a chassid, an am ha'aretz, or a Sodomite?
The answer is that even this stricter opinion doesn't deny the existence of a pragmatic, fair person. He isn't rejecting practicality or healthy boundaries. What he is saying is that when a person says — "ha'omer" — "what's mine is mine and what's yours is yours," it often reflects something deeper and darker than simple fairness. It reveals an attitude rooted in self-protection, not principle.
In other words, this opinion doesn't claim that capitalism itself is evil — only that unbridled self-interest easily disguises itself as fairness. The same words can describe two very different people: one who is genuinely practical and balanced, and another who is spiritually closed off and self-serving.
The machlokes in the Mishnah, then, doesn't revolve around the statement itself, but around the intent behind it. The question is: when someone says, "what's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours," what does he mean deep down? Is he expressing a practical sense of fairness — or a philosophy of selfishness?
How Sodom Develops
Of course, when a person adopts an institutionalized worldview that is anti-kindness, it doesn't remain an individual outlook for long. Inevitably, such a mindset will give rise to a society that is not only selfish, but even creatively cruel — a system that outlaws kindness itself.
Once people define generosity as weakness, they must invent laws to protect their selfishness. In Sodom, this philosophy became civic policy. To preserve their wealth and independence, they banned hospitality, punished compassion, and persecuted anyone who dared to care. Every story Chazal tell us about Sodom — the brutal treatment of the poor, the mocking of guests, the grotesque legal judgments — all stem from this single root: a fear of kindness.
Sodom's cruelty wasn't random; it was ideological. It was the natural outgrowth of a worldview that began innocently enough with the words, "What's mine is mine, and what's yours is yours."
What About Communism?
We can now contrast this outlook with the other personalities listed in the Mishnah. Why is the person who says "what's mine is mine and what's yours is yours" any different from the one who says "what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours"? In the end, doesn't everyone wind up with the something? Why is one described as a beinoni — an average type — and the other called an am ha'aretz, a simple, unrefined thinker?
The answer is that the Mishnah is drawing the same distinction that we would call today the difference between capitalism and communism.
The beinoni says "what's mine is mine and what's yours is yours."
That is a pragmatic and functional worldview; assuming there is no darker motive behind it, it can sustain a working society.
Even according to the stricter view that labels this middas Sodom, if someone truly believes in this principle purely out of fairness, society could still operate under it — perhaps not inspired, but stable.
It is built on the assumption that "what's mine is mine," and therefore each person takes responsibility for his own effort and achievement.
The Gemara in Bava Metzia (38a) teaches:
Adam rotzeh b'kav shelo yoser mi'tishah kabin shel chaveiro — A person prefers one measure that he himself earned over nine measures produced by his friend. This is the basic human drive for personal effort. Meaning if I build a shaky Sukkah using my basic building skills, I appreciate it more than a fancy Sukkah, even nine times greater than mine, because I see my own effort in my work. People are energized by ownership, by seeing the fruit of their own labor. Communism, on the other hand, removes that incentive.
It preaches "what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours," erasing boundaries and personal ownership.
At first glance, it sounds noble — everyone sharing equally, no inequality, no conflict.
But it overlooks the most essential component of human nature: the joy of creation and the dignity of earning.
That is why the Mishnah does not criticize this attitude from a moral standpoint but from an intellectual one.
It calls it am ha'aretz — naïve, unsophisticated thinking.
It may sound idealistic in theory, but it collapses in reality.
It is no coincidence that such philosophies often appeal most to the young and idealistic — those who have not yet experienced the complexity of how people actually work.
They dream of a free, borderless society that will solve every problem, but they overlook a basic truth of human nature: people need to feel that "what's mine is mine" — not from greed, but from purpose.
The Torah's wisdom recognizes this.
The problem, as we explained earlier, is not the statement itself, but the motivation behind it.
When a person says "what's mine is mine" pragmatically, with responsibility and fairness, it can build society.
When he says it selfishly, it destroys it.
The Sodomite and the Rasha
Of course, there remains a difference between a Sodomite and a rasha.
A Sodomite can convince himself that his selfish worldview is actually an idealism — a principle upon which an orderly and functioning society can be built. He believes that by enforcing absolute self-sufficiency and outlawing generosity, he is maintaining fairness and protecting stability. But in reality, such a philosophy only institutionalizes cruelty.
A rasha, on the other hand, has no ideology at all. His motto is simply "me, me, me." He acts purely out of desire and greed, without any pretense of logic or system. Such a person cannot sustain a society; a world built on unrestrained ego collapses under its own chaos.
And yet, in some ways, the Sodomite is worse. For the rasha destroys individuals — but the Sodomite builds a civilization that destroys compassion. The rasha lives by the rule of the strongest; the Sodomite creates laws that sanctify selfishness. When evil hides behind philosophy, it becomes far more dangerous.
The Chassid.
This is the person who says, "What's mine is yours, and what's yours is yours." At first glance, that doesn't seem sustainable. How can anyone live like that? In fact, halacha teaches that a person should not give away more than one-fifth of his wealth to tzedakah. A society built on unrestrained giving would quickly collapse. So what, then, does the chassid mean?
Here again we recall the Rabbeinu Yonah's principle that the Mishnah is not describing someone who ignores halacha, but someone who lives within halacha — fulfilling the mitzvos as the Torah commands. This chassid is not giving away everything he owns; he is giving within the framework of Torah.
The difference lies not in what he does, but in how he sees the world. His motto is not "fairness," but "care." He views his possessions as tools for connection, not for protection. His default posture is generosity: If I can give, I want to give. If I can help, I want to help.
That is the middah of the chassid — a person whose heart is turned outward. He sees life itself as an opportunity to bring blessing to others.
When it comes to building a society, the laws must reflect the values of the Torah. Ours is a system that champions kindness for the underdog and care for the needy. We are commanded to leave leket, shikchah, and pe'ah for the poor, to give ma'aser, to support the kohen and the levi — those who devote their lives to Hashem. A Torah society legislates compassion, and providing for those that devote their lives to Hashem's service.
At the same time, the Torah also affirms the dignity of personal effort. It is not a world of handouts, but of hard work sanctified by purpose. The Torah's vision is not communism, and it is not unbridled capitalism; it is responsibility.
A Torah-based economy is therefore built on ownership with obligation: I maintain control over what is mine, but I recognize that it is only mine in order to share it. The structure of our laws reflects the structure of our hearts — that everything we earn, create, and achieve is meant to bring blessing to those around us.
Yehi ratzon that we should be zocheh to build our lives and our communities in the spirit of Avraham Avinu — with hearts that are open, hands that are generous, and minds that are wise.
Have an amazing Shabbos!
Rabbi Moshe Revah Rosh HaYeshiva Mrevah2@touro.edu
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