On Tradition and Dynamism: B. A Historical Description (Column 623)

With God’s help

Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.

In the previous column, I argued a factual claim: dynamism is necessarily embedded in any tradition, since its transmitters are not hollow pipes. There we also saw two principal justifications: an instrumental one (dynamism is required for survival) and an essential one (dynamism reveals additional facets within the tradition we received). In this column I wish to demonstrate the matter from a historical perspective. It is built on the prologue to the third book of the trilogy, Walking Among the Standing.

Introduction

In the second generation of the Tannaim at Yavneh, a revolution occurred of immense significance for the development of the Oral Torah. Records of this revolution appear in several places in the Talmud, one of the most prominent being the account of the removal of Rabban Gamliel from the presidency and the appointment of Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah in his stead. The Gemara proceeds to recount additional events that occurred “on that day”[1]—the Oven of Akhnai (Bavli Bava Metzia 59), the deposition of Rabban Gamliel (Bavli Berakhot 28), the death of Rabbi Eliezer the Great (Bavli Sanhedrin 68 and 101), and the meeting of Rabbi Yehoshua’s students with their master in Peki’in, as well as Rabbi Yose ben Dormaskit’s meeting with Rabbi Eliezer in Lod (Bavli Hagigah 3).

Much of the narrative surrounding these happenings is accompanied by highly dramatic descriptions—wonders, mystical interventions of various heavenly forces: storms seeking to sink Rabban Gamliel’s ship, the walls of the study hall leaning and remaining in place, an aqueduct reversing its flow, a heavenly voice (bat kol) issuing from the skies, and more. These stories are saturated with dramatic human situations as well: revolutions, students rebelling against their teachers, excommunications, charged encounters, and so forth. On the face of it there seems to be no historical or substantive connection between all these sugyot, apart from the fact that the same group of sages from the same generation is involved. But if one surveys these sugyot with a broader view, one can discern a connection between them and grasp their historical and substantive significance for tradition, its modes of transmission, and the different approaches to it.

The Description of Transmission in Pirkei Avot

Chapter 1 of Tractate Avot describes the transmission of the Torah from Moses to Joshua, to the elders, and so on. In Chapter 1, the process is depicted such that each sage receives the Torah from his teachers and passes it on to his students. This description culminates with the fifth and last pair: Hillel and Shammai. From that point onward, the process of reception and transmission stops, and from then on sayings are brought in the names of sages from different generations, until Chapter 2, mishnah 9. There, surprisingly, for one last moment, the description of the process of transmission (or reception) flickers again with the words: “Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai (henceforth: RYBZ) received from Hillel and Shammai,” and immediately thereafter it ends for good. In the next mishnah we already find: “RYBZ had five students; they were Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus and Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah,” etc. In the generations after RYBZ there is no longer a single prominent figure or pair as there had been until him. At these stages the process is more populous, and each sage has several students. The transmission of the Torah becomes more decentralized and freer. In particular, the expressions “received” (kibbel) and “transmitted” (masar) that accompanied the process until that stage no longer appear.

When one follows the personae in question, one can see that this change occurs roughly in the first generation of the sages of Yavneh, i.e., in the days of the second generation of Tannaim. As we shall see, the change in terminology between the period of receiving from a master to his disciple and the period of learning in a decentralized manner—many students from each master (or from several masters)—and the emergence of personal dicta, reflects a dramatic change that the tradition of the Oral Torah undergoes in the first generation of Yavneh.

Let me sharpen the historical background. The period of the “Pairs” (Zugot), each composed of an Av Beit Din and a Nasi, describes the transmission of the tradition in the second half of the Second Temple period until the Destruction. The last pair was Hillel and Shammai, and the one who “received” (!) from them (both!) was Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai. In his days the Destruction occurred, and, as is known, he asked the Romans for “Yavneh and its sages,”[2] i.e., that they allow him to save the Sanhedrin and relocate it to Yavneh before they destroyed Jerusalem and the Temple. The generation after him was that of Rabban Gamliel of Yavneh, who served as Nasi, Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus (Rabbi Eliezer the Great), Rabban Gamliel’s brother-in-law, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah, his colleague and disputant, together with Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, younger than they, and Rabbi Akiva ben Yosef, who, as is known, was older but still a “student” (both of Rabbi Eliezer the Great and of Rabbi Yehoshua). This is the stage at which the description of tradition as reception and transmission in Avot ceases and a decentralized description begins. This happens roughly with the move of the Sanhedrin to Yavneh—indeed among the sages of that first generation there.

The Deposition of Rabban Gamliel from the Presidency

The Gemara in Berakhot 28a–b describes a dramatic event that brought to a head years of mistreatment by Rabban Gamliel the Nasi toward Rabbi Yehoshua:

Our Rabbis taught: It once happened that a certain student came before Rabbi Yehoshua and asked him: “Is the evening prayer (Ma’ariv) optional or obligatory?” He said to him: “Optional.” He then came before Rabban Gamliel and asked: “Is the evening prayer optional or obligatory?” He said to him: “Obligatory.” He said to him: “But Rabbi Yehoshua told me it is optional!” He said to him: “Wait until the shield-bearers (leading scholars) enter the study hall.” When they entered, the questioner stood and asked: “Is the evening prayer optional or obligatory?” Rabban Gamliel said to him: “Obligatory.” Rabban Gamliel said to the sages: “Is there anyone who disputes this?” Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: “No.” He said to him: “But in your name they told me it is optional!” He said to him: “Yehoshua, stand on your feet and they will testify about you!” Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet and said: “If I were alive and he were dead, the living could contradict the dead; but now that I am alive and he is alive, how can the living contradict the living?” Rabban Gamliel sat and expounded while Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet until all the people murmured and said to Hutzpit the translator: “Stand!” And he stood.

We see that Rabban Gamliel instilled fear in all the sages in the study hall. He treated Rabbi Yehoshua, who disagreed with him, in a degrading and dismissive manner—reminding us of other events in which this occurred:

They said: “How long shall we continue to pain him? Last year on Rosh Hashanah he pained him; in Bekhorot, in the story of Rabbi Tzadok, he pained him; here, too, he pained him. Come, let us depose him!” Whom shall we appoint? Shall we appoint Rabbi Yehoshua? He is a party to the matter. Shall we appoint Rabbi Akiva? Perhaps he will be punished, for he lacks ancestral merit. Rather, let us appoint Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, for he is wise, he is wealthy, and he is the tenth in descent from Ezra. He is wise—if one raises a difficulty against him, he can answer it; he is wealthy—if he must go to serve the Caesar’s court, he can go; he is the tenth to Ezra—he has ancestral merit and cannot be punished. They came and said to him: “Does the master wish to be the head of the academy?” He said to them: “I will go and consult the people of my household.” He went and consulted his wife. She said to him: “Perhaps they will depose you.” He said to her: “[Let a man make use] one day of a precious cup, and tomorrow let it be broken.” She said to him: “You have no white hair.” That day he was eighteen years old; a miracle occurred for him and eighteen rows of hair turned white. This is what Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah meant when he said: “Behold, I am like a man of seventy years,” and not actually seventy.”

They depose Rabban Gamliel and put in his place Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, despite his youth. The elder, authoritative Nasi with lineage to the presidents of the house of David and to Hillel the Elder is replaced by a young man without (that) pedigree (though indeed wealthy and with his own merits). This is a first hint of the replacement of an authoritarian policy with a more democratic and substantive one. They choose a person according to his qualities and do not take technical and external parameters into account.

Now the Gemara describes what happened:

A teaching: On that day, the guard at the door was removed and permission was granted for the students to enter. For Rabban Gamliel used to announce and say: “Any student whose inside is not like his outside (whose character does not match his façade) shall not enter the study hall.” On that day many benches were added. Rabbi Yohanan said: Abba Yose ben Dostai and the Rabbis disagree about the number—one said four hundred benches were added; the other said seven hundred benches. Rabban Gamliel’s mind was troubled and he said: “Perhaps, Heaven forbid, I have withheld Torah from Israel.” They showed him in his dream white casks filled with ashes. But it was not so; they showed him that only to calm his mind.

As part of his authoritarian policy, Rabban Gamliel conducted a selection at the entrance to the study hall: only one whose inside matched his outside could participate in the learning and debate. When Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah entered office, he changed the policy and the benches multiplied. Even the consolation Rabban Gamliel received in his dream is understood by the sages as something unreal, done only for his honor.

What is the connection between the multiplication of benches and authority? Rabban Gamliel represents a “Torah of Tradition.” That Torah is transmitted from father to son and from master to disciple verbatim. Information reigns supreme—not explanation and reasoning. One who disputes Rabban Gamliel disputes facts and therefore does not deserve proper regard. Those who enter the study hall are measured by traits of character, trustworthiness, and piety, for their role is not to contribute opinions openly but to absorb and transmit onward. These are the optimal transmitters, for they are utterly hollow pipes. One may trust that what they say indeed was received from their teachers. When Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah enters, the policy changes, for the sages understood that the “hollow pipe” policy, deaf to arguments and differing views, leads to the destruction of the Torah. From now on everyone enters the study hall, and great importance is no longer attached to piety and personal trustworthiness. From now on, positions are assessed on their merits, in light of arguments and reasons. The Torah turns from a Torah of tradition into a Torah of give-and-take (discussion). In the terminology of the previous column: from a tradition of cedar to a tradition of reed.

Before continuing the sugya, a brief interlude to understand the significance of these events.

Interlude: Background and Essence

To understand the timing and special meaning of the revolution described here, we must return to the historical background of the events. In his introduction to the Mishnah, the Rambam provides an account of the emergence of disputes in Israel stemming from a situation in which the students of Hillel and Shammai did not serve their masters sufficiently; consequently, forgetfulness increased and disputes arose (see also the previous column and Bavli Sanhedrin 88b). We noted that, of course, there had been isolated disputes earlier as well, but in the time of Hillel and Shammai this was the first time that two “houses,” or general schools, were formed: Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. At that stage the dispute solidified and there was no way to resolve it.

As we saw in the previous column, a “Torah of Tradition” has no solution to such a situation. One cannot decide between two schools relying on different sources if matters are examined only through the credibility of sources and transmission. Each remembers that his master said otherwise, and there is no way to determine which tradition is correct. Reasoned judgment is not supposed to play a role, since we operate within considerations of tradition rather than logic. No wonder the situation at that time seemed hopeless. The Torah disintegrates and fragments, and it appears to be on the verge of disappearing from the world. There is no longer an authentic and agreed-upon expression of the Divine word given at Sinai, and a tremendous crisis erupts. Perhaps this is how we should understand the seemingly literary and exaggerated description in Yerushalmi Shabbat (1:4) that the students of Shammai killed the students of Hillel.[3] When one cannot persuade and marshal arguments, the only thing left is the use of force. This is likely the reason that the literary descriptions in all these sugyot are among the boldest we find in the Talmud. Intense feelings and an atmosphere of crisis and revolution amplify everything that happens. Every halakhic dispute becomes an unbridgeable ideological abyss.

We must remember that Hillel and Shammai lived in the generation before RYBZ, i.e., their students crystallize into two “houses” roughly from RYBZ’s time onward. In Pirkei Avot it is stated that he himself received from Hillel and Shammai. In Tractate Sukkah he is described as the youngest of Hillel the Elder’s students. His disciple, Rabbi Eliezer, is already known as a “Shammuti” (which, according to one interpretation, means “of Beit Shammai”).[4]

In light of all the above, it seems that in the first generation of Yavneh the dispute raged at full force, and the fear of a general unraveling of the Torah and of the people of Israel began to assume most alarming proportions. The sages of that first generation, led by the elder among them, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Hananiah (the colleague and disputant of Rabbi Eliezer), understood that such a state requires a true revolution in the conception of the Oral Torah. A new way must be developed that will allow decisions between the two schools; otherwise disintegration is inevitable. There is no choice but to legitimize give-and-take, rational decision-making, or decision by majority opinion in open issues, and to reject testimonies and traditions—credible though they may be. This was the background to the ongoing confrontation between the authoritarian Rabban Gamliel (tradition of cedar) and the democrat Rabbi Yehoshua (tradition of reed—plurality of positions and deliberation). Joining Rabbi Yehoshua’s revolution—which succeeds in imposing his view, as described in the story of the Oven of Akhnai that we shall shortly see—are his colleagues/students: Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, appointed as a very young Nasi (he was only eighteen, and his beard turned white “like a man of seventy”) in place of Rabban Gamliel, and Rabbi Akiva. This underscores the essence of the revolution: the fresh approach of the young replacing the outdated approach of the elders. The deposition of Rabban Gamliel must be seen as part of this process—a solution to the crisis of dispute created by an Oral Torah based on tradition (cedar, hollow pipe). In its place the sages understood that a tradition of reed must come; otherwise it is the end of the Oral Torah (recall the instrumental explanation from the previous column).

Back to the Berakhot Sugya and the Appointment of REB”A

Note what happens after the revolution, when Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah is appointed and the benches in the study hall multiply:

A teaching: “Eduyot was reviewed on that very day, and wherever we say ‘on that day’—it was that day. And there was no halakhah dependent in the study hall that they did not clarify. Even Rabban Gamliel did not withhold himself from the study hall even for one hour, for we learned: On that day Yehuda the Ammonite convert came before them in the study hall. He said to them: ‘What is my status regarding entering the congregation (marriage)?’ Rabban Gamliel said to him: ‘You are forbidden to enter the congregation.’ Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: ‘You are permitted to enter the congregation.’ Rabban Gamliel said to him: ‘But it is already stated (Deut. 23): “An Ammonite and a Moabite shall not enter the congregation of the Lord.”’ Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: ‘Are Ammon and Moab sitting in their place? Sennacherib, king of Assyria, has already come up and mixed all the nations, as it is said (Isa. 10): “I removed the boundaries of the peoples and plundered their treasures; I brought down as one mighty the inhabitants,” and anything that separates is assumed to have separated from the majority.’ Rabban Gamliel said to him: ‘But it is already stated (Jer. 49): “And afterward I will restore the fortunes of the children of Ammon”—and they have already returned.’ Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: ‘But it is already stated (Amos 9): “And I will restore the fortunes of My people Israel”—and we have not yet returned.’ Immediately they permitted him to enter the congregation.”

Tractate Eduyot is very unusual in the Talmud: it has no single central topic. It is a collection of traditions and testimonies that reached the sages and remained undecided in the time of Rabban Gamliel, for in a Torah of tradition there is no way to decide between conflicting traditions. When Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah ascends to the presidency, the very first thing is that all open questions are brought for decision in the study hall. Now everyone is inside; anyone can present an argument, and if disagreement remains they take a vote and decide by the majority. Incidentally, one of the questions decided within Eduyot was none other than the Oven of Akhnai (explicitly appearing in Eduyot), which we will encounter momentarily. Note that the Gemara here says that wherever we say “on that day,” it was that very day. That is, we have a keyword that helps us locate all the sugyot that transpired in that period (it is not a literal calendar day but around those revolutionary events).

The sugya concludes with Rabban Gamliel accepting the ruling of his colleagues, repenting, and participating as one of the people in the debates in the study hall. Incidentally, the halakhah regarding the Ammonite convert is decided like Rabbi Yehoshua against Rabban Gamliel, and he, of course, accepts it. This is the finishing blow of the revolution.

And then the Gemara relates how the entire story ends:

Rabban Gamliel said: “Since this is the case, I will go and appease Rabbi Yehoshua.” When he arrived at his house, he saw that the walls of the house were blackened (with soot). He said to him: “From the walls of your house one can tell that you are a charcoal-maker.” He said to him: “Woe to a generation of which you are the leader, for you do not know the suffering of Torah scholars—how they support themselves and on what they subsist.” He said to him: “I have wronged you; forgive me!” He paid no heed to him. [Gamliel said:] “Do it for my father’s honor!” He appeased him. They said: “Who will go and tell the sages?” A certain launderer said to them: “I will go.” Rabbi Yehoshua sent to the study hall: “He who wears the garment shall continue to wear it, and he who does not wear the garment—shall he say to him who wears the garment: ‘Send me your garment and I will wear it’?” Rabbi Akiva said to the sages: “Bolt the doors, lest the slaves of Rabban Gamliel come and trouble the sages.” Rabbi Yehoshua said: “It is better that I rise and go to them.” He came and knocked at the door. He said to them: “He who sprinkles [ashes]—the son of him who sprinkles—shall he [who is] neither a sprinkler nor the son of a sprinkler say to the sprinkler, son of a sprinkler: ‘Your water is cave-water and your ashes are oven-ashes’?”

Rabbi Akiva said to him: “Rabbi Yehoshua, have you been appeased? Did we do anything but for your honor? Tomorrow, I and you shall rise early to his door.” They said: “What shall we do? Shall we depose him? We have learned: ‘We raise up in matters of holiness, and do not lower.’ Shall one lecture one week and the other one week?—this will lead to jealousy. Rather, let Rabban Gamliel lecture three weeks and Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah one week.” And this is what the Master said: “Whose ‘Shabbat’ (week) was it?—It was Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah’s week.” And that student—he was Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai.

Rabban Gamliel is a penitent; from the moment he accepted the new rules of the game—according to which the Oral Torah proceeds by a tradition of reed rather than cedar, and the transmitters are not required to be hollow pipes—he is restored to his office in rotation with REB”A. From then on, each of them would deliver the main lecture (sit at the head of the study hall) in his own turn. Hence the frequent question in the Talmud: “Whose week was it?”

This brings us to the other side of the traditionalist coalition: Rabbi Eliezer the Great, who, it will be recalled, was Rabban Gamliel’s brother-in-law. Remembering what happened with Rabban Gamliel renders that description perfectly clear.

The Sugya of the Oven of Akhnai

In Bavli (Bava Metzia 59) another dramatic event is described, involving the same group of sages. Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer the Great disagree regarding the ritual impurity of a segmented oven (the Oven of Akhnai):

We learned there: If he cut it into segments and placed sand between each segment—Rabbi Eliezer declares it pure, and the sages declare it impure. And this is the Oven of Akhnai. What is “Akhnai”?—Rav Yehuda said in the name of Shmuel: Because they surrounded it with arguments as a snake (akhnai) and declared it impure. A teaching: On that day, Rabbi Eliezer answered every answer in the world, but they did not accept from him. He said to them: “If the halakhah is like me—let this carob tree prove it.” The carob uprooted itself from its place by a hundred cubits; some say four hundred cubits. They said to him: “One does not bring proof from a carob.” He returned and said to them: “If the halakhah is like me—let the aqueduct prove it.” The aqueduct flowed backward. They said to him: “One does not bring proof from an aqueduct.” He returned and said to them: “If the halakhah is like me—let the walls of the study hall prove it.” The walls of the study hall leaned to fall. Rabbi Yehoshua rebuked them and said to them: “If Torah scholars are contending with one another in halakhah, what concern is it of yours?” They did not fall because of Rabbi Yehoshua’s honor, and they did not straighten because of Rabbi Eliezer’s honor; they remained leaning. He returned and said to them: “If the halakhah is like me—let proof come from Heaven.” A heavenly voice came forth and said: “What do you have against Rabbi Eliezer, for the halakhah is like him in every place!” Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet and said: “It is not in Heaven.” What is [the meaning of] ‘It is not in Heaven’ (Deut. 30)? Rabbi Yirmiyah said: Since the Torah has already been given at Mount Sinai, we pay no attention to a heavenly voice, for You have already written at Mount Sinai in the Torah (Ex. 23): ‘After the majority one must incline.’ Rabbi Natan later met Elijah and said to him: “What was the Holy One, blessed be He, doing at that moment?” He said to him: “He was smiling and saying: ‘My children have triumphed over Me; My children have triumphed over Me.’”

In the dispute over the oven, Rabbi Eliezer the Great is under attack. Because of this he resorts to mystical proofs—the changing of the aqueduct’s course, the leaning of the study hall’s walls, and so on—yet his colleagues are not persuaded. His colleague and disputant, Rabbi Yehoshua, proclaims the primacy of reason over a divine voice from the heavens, saying: “It is not in Heaven.” From then until today, this is a foundational principle in the ethos constituting the Oral Torah.

The description above opens with the words “on that day.” It could refer merely to the day of the debate per se, but Menachem Fisch, in his book To Know Wisdom, suggests—rightly, in my view—another interpretation: that this is indeed “that day” on which Rabban Gamliel was deposed. Evidence for this surprising reading lies in the Berakhot sugya, where we saw that the entire tractate of Eduyot was reviewed “on that day,” and in Eduyot (7:7) it explicitly appears: “They testified about an oven that was cut into segments and sand was placed between each segment that it is impure, while Rabbi Eliezer declares it pure.” That is, the Oven of Akhnai was one of the sugyot decided on “that day” when Rabban Gamliel was deposed.

Note that Rabbi Eliezer the Great consistently represents the view that the Torah is transmitted entirely through tradition—and that this is its essential nature—as I will now briefly illustrate. In Bavli Sukkah 28b, Rabbi Eliezer testifies about himself that he never said anything he had not heard from his master. In Pirkei Avot, RYBZ enumerates Rabbi Eliezer’s praise (one of his five students) as “a plastered cistern that does not lose a drop.” Rabbi Eliezer also says of himself: “If all the seas were ink, all the reeds pens, and all human beings scribes, they could not write all that I have studied and reviewed” (Avot de-Rabbi Natan, chap. 25; see also Bavli Sanhedrin 67–68 and 101), and more. Rabbi Eliezer, then, was a vast repository of his teachers’ Torah, and everything he said was in their name. His Torah was a Torah of tradition, of reception. He was a vessel for his teachers’ Torah and served as a faithful (but hollow—i.e., adding nothing of his own) pipe that transmitted his teachers’ doctrine to future generations. Let us now return to the dispute about the oven.

In the debate over the oven’s impurity, Rabbi Eliezer brings proofs that are, on the face of it, irrelevant: a carob, an aqueduct, a heavenly voice, etc. It seems that Rabbi Eliezer is not addressing the matter on its merits but is attempting to prove his authority. He does not focus on arguments and proofs about the content of the ruling—i.e., that what he says is true—but on proofs that he is righteous and trustworthy and that Heaven agrees with him. The reason is that, for Rabbi Eliezer, halakhah is determined by the reliability of the transmitter, not by the quality of the reasoning and evidence brought. Rabbi Eliezer is essentially trying to prove that he is a worthy “pipe” for the Torah of his teachers that came from Sinai, and in his view this suffices for his colleagues to accept his words and rule like him even if they do not understand or agree. One may surmise that “all the proofs in the world” that Rabbi Eliezer brought that day (before the mystical phase of the debate began) were likely quotations from his teachers as well. I remind you of Rabban Gamliel’s criteria for selection of those entering the study hall: Whoever’s inside is not like his outside shall not enter—again, testing trustworthiness. The two brothers-in-law, Rabban Gamliel the Nasi and Rabbi Eliezer the Great, both advocate a Torah of a hollow pipe and a tradition of cedar.

But Rabbi Yehoshua, colleague of Rabbi Eliezer and disputant of Rabban Gamliel, disagreed not only about the oven’s impurity but also about the meta-halakhic approach. Rabbi Yehoshua maintained that halakhah is determined by reason and argument: “It is not in Heaven.” And if there is no resolution by way of persuading all from the arguments brought for any view, then they count votes and follow the majority: “After the majority one must incline.” Rabbi Yehoshua sets against Rabbi Eliezer’s traditionalist approach an autonomous one, whereby halakhah is determined by the reason of the Torah sages. The aggadah in Bava Metzia reports that the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself said about this: “My children have triumphed over Me.” This aggadah teaches us that Rabbi Yehoshua’s approach prevailed that day, and Rabbi Eliezer’s approach—dominant until then—was rejected. A “Torah of give-and-take,” i.e., of evidence, arguments, and human reason, replaced the “Torah of tradition” that had held sway until that day. If Rabbi Eliezer believed the transmitter’s role is to be a hollow pipe faithful to his teachers’ Torah, Rabbi Yehoshua and his colleagues espoused the view that the Torah is shaped by people. The tradition turned from cedar into reed.

According to this approach, the transmitter is not a hollow pipe but adds his own hue to the Torah he passes on. He no longer only “receives” and “transmits,” but also says things of his own. It seems to me that this is the meaning of the change in wording in the description of the tradition in Pirkei Avot. Until the time of Yavneh, the Torah was transmitted from transmitter to recipient without the intermediaries contributing anything of their own. From there onward, a human Torah of debate and reason, arguments and proofs, emerges. The sages’ role becomes more active. At the end of the process, the “Torah of tradition” is ousted and replaced by a “Torah of give-and-take.” There was a revolution in the conception of the Oral Torah.

This is the essence of the instrumental explanation for the importance of a flexible and dynamic tradition. We saw that within a “Torah of tradition,” one cannot decide principled disagreements. Each remains faithful to what he thinks he received from his teacher, for these are “facts.” Hence we see Rabbi Eliezer trying to decide the dispute by non-substantive means. This is a defining feature of a Torah of tradition. Rabbi Eliezer does not accept that his students/colleagues, by virtue of their reasoning, can stick their heads between the high mountains and decide questions discussed by the sages of previous generations. The only way to decide, according to Rabbi Eliezer, is to search for supports from his teachers. Our role is merely to pass on and apply the Torah they transmitted to us. The decision in the Oven of Akhnai sugya demonstrated the goal of the entire revolution: to enable decision between opposing positions and to prevent the power struggle and the fragmentation that accompany it.

The parallel with the Berakhot sugya continues here as well:

They said: On that day they brought all the pure foods that Rabbi Eliezer had declared pure and burned them with fire, and they voted concerning him and excommunicated him. They said: “Who shall go and inform him?” Rabbi Akiva said to them: “I will go, lest someone unworthy go and inform him and he destroy the whole world.” What did Rabbi Akiva do? He put on black, wrapped himself in black, and sat before him at a distance of four cubits. Rabbi Eliezer said to him: “Akiva, what is different about today?” He said to him: “Rabbi, it seems to me that your colleagues have separated from you.” He too rent his garments, removed his shoes, slipped off and sat on the ground. His eyes flowed with tears; the world was smitten: a third of the olives, a third of the wheat, and a third of the barley were afflicted. And some say: even dough in a woman’s hand swelled. A teaching: Great anger was on that day, for wherever Rabbi Eliezer cast his eyes was burned. And even Rabban Gamliel was coming in a boat; a wave rose up to drown him. He said: “It seems to me this is only because of Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus.” He arose on his feet and said: “Master of the universe, it is revealed and known before You that I did not do this for my honor nor for the honor of my father’s house, but for Your honor—that disputes not increase in Israel.” The sea calmed from its fury.

Imma Shalom, the wife of Rabbi Eliezer, was Rabban Gamliel’s sister. From that incident onward she did not let Rabbi Eliezer fall on his face (say Tahanun). That day was the New Moon, but she erred between a full and a deficient month. Some say: A poor man came and stood at the door; she brought him bread. She found him fallen on his face. She said to him: “Rise; you have killed my brother.” Meanwhile a shofar blast came from Rabban Gamliel’s house that he had died. He said to her: “How did you know?” She said to him: “So I have received from my father’s house: All gates are locked except for the gates of oppression (ona’ah).”

There, “on that day,” they reviewed the entire tractate of Eduyot and decided all the open questions that had been stuck because of the Torah of tradition. Here they brought all the pure foods that Rabbi Eliezer had declared pure and declared them impure. Up to this point, the parallel between the sugyot. But from here on, there is a stark contrast. Unlike what happened there, where Rabban Gamliel was restored to his office as Nasi, Rabbi Eliezer is excommunicated and remains in Lod until his death. Why? Clearly the excommunication is not because he held a different opinion, as many held different views. Clearly they excommunicated him because he did not accept the ruling and would not cooperate with the new rules of the game.

We saw in the Berakhot sugya that Rabban Gamliel’s heart softened; he immediately understood that he had erred in his policy and repented. He returns to participate in the study hall discussions. By contrast, Rabbi Eliezer, in his anger, causes storms at sea (which, of course, threaten to drown his brother-in-law, Rabban Gamliel, who betrayed the traditionalist path, and finds himself compelled to plead for mercy) and brings disasters upon the world. He does not accept the ruling, and he remains isolated and bitter in Lod until the day of his death. Given the severe crisis atmosphere described above, it is clear that the sages required drastic measures to embed and internalize within the study hall the new face of the Oral Torah. This is the meaning of Rabbi Eliezer’s excommunication. Unlike Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Eliezer remained excommunicated until the day of his death, for unlike Rabban Gamliel he persisted in his defiance. As described in the Sanhedrin sugyot that we will see below, Rabbi Eliezer continued to champion a “Torah of tradition” until his last day.

The Hagigah Sugya: The Move to the Essential Justification

Until now we have seen the instrumental value of a dynamic tradition. It enables mediation between opposing views and halakhic decision. It prevented the schisms that had arisen from a rigid (cedar) tradition and thereby saved the Oral Torah from disintegration. We will now continue to trace this process. Its next stage is a move to essential justification—namely, to the moment when it becomes apparent that the dispute, though it arose due to the students’ deficiencies (see the previous column) and was adopted for instrumental reasons, receives a positive valuation in its own right. We see that “it is good,” and we discover that a dynamic tradition is not merely a survival tool but has intrinsic value.

As I hinted in the previous column, this meaning can be clearly seen in the course of the Bavli Hagigah 3a–b, where we are presented, one after the other, with the attitudes of Rabbi Eliezer (sitting excommunicated in Lod) and of Rabbi Yehoshua (sitting in his “coal-shop” in Peki’in) to what is happening in Yavneh. Recall that in that period Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah served as alternating Nesi’im. At that time our two protagonists sat in different places: Rabbi Eliezer alone, excommunicated in Lod, and Rabbi Yehoshua, his disputant, in Peki’in.

The first story recounts a visit to Rabbi Yehoshua:

There was an incident involving Rabbi Yohanan ben Beroka and Rabbi Elazar Hasma, who went to greet Rabbi Yehoshua in Peki’in. He said to them: “What novelty (hidush) was there in the study hall today?” They said to him: “We are your students and we drink from your waters.” He said to them: “Even so—there is no study hall without a novelty. Whose week was it?” [=Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah’s or Rabban Gamliel’s?] They said: “It was Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah’s week.”

Rabbi Yehoshua is interested in who served and lectured in the study hall that week and tells his students who came to visit him not to remain captive to the pre-revolution conception: there is no study hall without novelty. A “Torah of give-and-take” is a living and developing Torah, not one that is merely preserved like a “Torah of tradition.” It cannot be that there are no novelties in the study hall. The pipes that transmit the tradition are no longer hollow. It is unlikely that a student comes only to hear and receive from his teacher in order to transmit further. In the current state, the master wishes to hear novelties from his students.

Later in the Hagigah sugya, the derashot of REB”A, the serving Nasi, are brought—and one cannot overlook their content. It is not accidental:

“And what was the homily today?” They said to him: “On the section of Hakhel.” “And what did he expound there?”—‘Assemble the people: the men, the women, and the children’ (Deut. 31). If the men come to learn and the women to listen—why do the children come? To give reward to those who bring them.”

REB”A expounds that everyone must take part in the learning and in transmitting the Torah—befitting his view that there is room for everyone in the study hall. Another derashah speaks of Israel making the Holy One, blessed be He, one unit (ḥativa) in the world—i.e., that all opinions are part of a mosaic that only as a whole reflects the Divine. These derashot reflect the revolution that REB”A leads as Nasi in Yavneh. Although they sound to us today self-evident, perhaps even banal, that is only thanks to REB”A, Rabbi Yehoshua, and their colleagues, who imposed this revolutionary conception on the world of the Oral Torah and, in all likelihood, thereby saved it from ruin. Note the novelty: dynamism, plurality, and dispute have not only instrumental value; they also have intrinsic value. They render the Holy One “one” and reveal in the world both the multiplicity of His faces and the unity between them.

As the sugya continues, Rabbi Yehoshua marvels at these derashot and rebukes his students, who sought to deprive him of such pearls:

He said to them: “A precious pearl you had in your hand, and you wished to deprive me of it!” And he further expounded: ‘You have set apart (he’emarta) the Lord today, and the Lord has set you apart (he’emircha) today’ (Deut. 26). The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: “You have made Me a single unit in the world, and I will make you a single unit in the world”—You made Me a single unit in the world, as it is written (Deut. 6): “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one”; and I will make you a single unit in the world, as it is written (I Chron. 17): “And who is like Your people, Israel, one nation in the earth.”

He adds his own teaching to REB”A’s idea, and all leads to one place: the value of plurality and dispute of opinions. It turns out that these derashot, which at first glance seem banal, are in his eyes precious gems—because of the worldview embedded within them. Therefore Rabbi Yehoshua opens with his own derashah in praise of the “Torah of give-and-take,” which, as noted, is a living and developing Torah:

He too opened and expounded: “The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails planted are the masters of assemblies; they were given from one shepherd” (Eccl. 12). Why are the words of Torah compared to a goad? To tell you that just as this goad directs the cow to its furrow to bring forth life to the world, so the words of Torah direct those who study them from paths of death to paths of life. Might you say that just as this goad is movable, so too the words of Torah are movable? The verse says “like nails.” Might you say that just as this nail diminishes and does not increase, so too the words of Torah diminish and do not increase? The verse says “planted”: just as this planting bears fruit and multiplies, so too the words of Torah bear fruit and multiply. “Masters of assemblies”—these are Torah scholars who sit in assemblies and occupy themselves with Torah: these declare impure and those declare pure; these forbid and those permit; these disqualify and those validate.

Now he proceeds to explain how we can live with a tradition of multiple opinions, and his solution is a Torah of give-and-take:

Lest a person say: “How can I now study Torah?”—the verse says: “They were all given by one shepherd”—one God gave them; one leader spoke them; from the mouth of the Master of all deeds, blessed be He, as it is written (Ex. 20): “And God spoke all these words.” You too make your ear like a funnel and acquire a discerning heart to hear the words of those who declare impure and those who declare pure, those who forbid and those who permit, those who disqualify and those who validate.

Here we can identify the complete outline of the Yavneh revolution led by Rabbi Yehoshua and REB”A. Here already lies the prescription for how we should relate to disputes and differing opinions. This is the solution to the crisis to which the frozen tradition of the cedar had brought us.

At the end of his words, Rabbi Yehoshua expresses what, in his eyes, is the great deliverance that this approach brought to the Torah and to the people of Israel—the orphaned generation that was but a step away from destruction:

In these words he said to them: “There is no orphaned generation in which Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah dwells.”

Thus ends the first story in the sugya, which describes Rabbi Yehoshua’s attitude in Peki’in to the state of affairs after the revolution in Yavneh. In contrast to this story, immediately thereafter the sugya brings a parallel (or opposing) story about a similar visit to Rabbi Eliezer, who, as noted, sits excommunicated in Lod.

Rabbi Eliezer’s Response

This is the story of the visit to Rabbi Eliezer in Lod:

There was an incident involving Rabbi Yose ben Dormaskit, who went to greet Rabbi Eliezer[5] in Lod. He said to him: “What novelty was there in the study hall today?”

Unlike Rabbi Yehoshua above, Rabbi Eliezer, of course, criticizes the approach of “novelties” that has gained control in REB”A’s Yavneh. The question is asked with bitterness and sarcasm (see the continuation of the Gemara). Rabbi Yose tells him that in the study hall in Yavneh they dealt with the halakhic issue of the obligation of the land of Ammon and Moab in the agricultural tithes:

He said to him: “They voted and concluded: Ammon and Moab tithe the poor’s tithe in the sabbatical year.” He said to him: “Yose, stretch out your hands and receive your eyes (i.e., be blinded).” He stretched out his hands and received his eyes. Rabbi Eliezer wept and said: “The secret of the Lord is to those who fear Him, and His covenant to make them know it” (Ps. 25). He said to him: “Go and say to them: Do not pay attention to your vote; thus have I received from Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, who heard from his teacher and his teacher from his teacher—a halakhah from Moses at Sinai: Ammon and Moab tithe the poor’s tithe in the sabbatical year.” He said to him: “Yose! Stretch out your hands and receive your eyes.” He stretched out his hands and received his eyes [back]. Rabbi Eliezer wept and said: “The secret of the Lord is to those who fear Him, and His covenant to make them know it.” He said to him: “Go and say to them: Do not pay attention to your vote; thus have I received from RYBZ, who heard from his teacher and his teacher from his teacher: a halakhah from Moses at Sinai—Ammon and Moab tithe the poor’s tithe in the sabbatical year. What is the reason? Many towns were conquered by those who went up from Egypt but were not conquered by those who went up from Babylon, for the first sanctification sanctified for its time but did not sanctify for the future; and they left them so that the poor would rely on them in the sabbatical year.” A teaching: After his mind settled, he said: “May it be His will that Yose’s eyes return to their place,” and they returned.

Rabbi Eliezer tells him that their conclusion was correct and that they need not worry, but it is hard to miss the frustration with which he rises against the sages of Yavneh who innovate “novelties,” when in Rabbi Eliezer’s immense repository their conclusions are already present for him as a “simple halakhah from Moses at Sinai” that he had received from his teachers.[6] Rabbi Eliezer remains, as noted, defiant, and argues that all the novelties of the revolutionaries were long known to him. His words contain a sharp critique of his opponents/replacements, who innovate novelties and engage in idle pilpul instead of relying on tradition and simply asking the transmitters (those who possess the information). This is how a “Torah of tradition” (cedar) regards a “Torah of give-and-take” (reed) after the revolution. In his anger and frustration he blinds his student—continuing the disruptions he caused the world after the Oven incident we saw above. In the end he has mercy on him and restores his sight, but the anger remains, and thus he stays bitter, excommunicated, and isolated in Lod until his death.

Back to Pirkei Avot

We can now return to Pirkei Avot. It seems that the process described here stands behind the description in Avot. The Tanna in Avot depicts the Torah as being “received” and “transmitted” only until the time of RYBZ. His students are no longer “receivers” in the previous sense. Indeed, Rabbi Eliezer is a “plastered cistern that does not lose a drop,” but in the end it is not he who “received” from RYBZ, but rather Rabbi Yehoshua—who, as noted, is no longer called a “receiver.” In the era of the tradition of the reed, the student is no longer a passive “receiver,” nor is he a single individual or a pair. The gates of the study hall are opened to the masses, increasing the benches, since there is no longer a screening of those worthy to study.

In the generations of RYBZ and his students occurs the great split of the students of Hillel and Shammai, who did not serve sufficiently and thus produced disputes that threatened the Torah and the entire people. The students of RYBZ, led by Rabbi Yehoshua and REB”A, rescue the Torah and the people from this impossible situation by a new definition of methods of deliberation and decision. This is the Yavneh revolution, which transpires entirely “on that day.”

It is interesting to note another change in the description of transmission in Avot. In the first mishnah it begins as an anonymous Torah that is passed from Moses to Joshua to the elders, and none of them is mentioned by name, nor is any teaching attributed to them:

“Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua; Joshua to the elders; the elders to the prophets; and the prophets transmitted it to the Men of the Great Assembly. They said three things: Be deliberate in judgment; raise up many students; and make a fence for the Torah.”

In mishnah 2 we suddenly encounter people with names, and even teachings attributed to them. They create a human Torah and do not merely pass it on from Sinai as is. It begins with Shimon the Righteous in mishnah 2:

“Shimon the Righteous was among the remnants of the Men of the Great Assembly. He would say: On three things the world stands: on Torah, on service (avodah), and on acts of lovingkindness.”

From there onward, throughout the process, there appear dicta attributed to named individuals. The Torah begins to be perceived as something created by human beings and not only as an anonymous tradition passed through hollow pipes. This is the beginning of the process whose continuation took shape in the Yavneh revolution. But the story is not yet over. We now reach the final stage in the dialectic of our tradition.

The Synthesis: A Dynamic Tradition

In the end, it must be said that the description I have given thus far is too dichotomous. On the one hand, we saw a rigid traditionalist approach that refuses to accept challenges and debate, viewing the Torah as “facts” and its transmitters as hollow pipes. Opposing it stands an approach that ignores the facts of tradition and does not even bother to ask Rabbi Eliezer the Great, preferring to create halakhah through independent give-and-take among sages. But the Torah as we possess it today is a combination of a “Torah of tradition” and a “Torah of give-and-take.” After all, a Torah without tradition is inconceivable. From where would one begin to debate and think? What are the axioms? How does the Torah given at Sinai reach us if we ignore tradition? Would people invent a new Torah in place of God? A synthesis between these two poles is called for.

It is the way of revolutions to proceed by presenting an extreme position in order to push back against the previous extreme and thereby arrive at the middle path—following the Rambam’s well-known method in Hilkhot De’ot and in his introductions. The end of the process is a dialectical synthesis: these two extremes are fused into a healthy, complete, balanced, and more comprehensive approach.

This fusion can be seen in Sanhedrin 68 and 101, where parallel descriptions (with significant differences) appear of the visit of Rabbi Eliezer the Great’s students to their teacher on the day of his death (recall that he had sat there excommunicated and alone since the Oven incident).

In Sanhedrin 68 there is a description of Rabbi Eliezer’s anger at his students for not coming to draw from his immense store of knowledge:

They entered and sat before him at a distance of four cubits. He said to them: “Why have you come?” They said to him: “We have come to learn Torah.” He said to them: “And until now, why did you not come?” They said to him: “We did not have the time.” He said to them: “I am amazed if they will die their own death.” Rabbi Akiva said to him: “What about mine?” He said to him: “Yours is more grievous than theirs.” He took his two arms and placed them on his heart and said: “Woe to you, my two arms, that are like two Torah scrolls that are being rolled up. Much Torah I have learned and much Torah I have taught. Much Torah I have learned, and I have not taken from my teachers even like a dog licking from the sea. Much Torah I have taught, and my students have not taken from me more than a paintbrush from its tube. And not only that—I expound three hundred laws about the intense white spot (baheret ‘azah), and no one ever asked me about them. And not only that—I expound three hundred laws (and some say three thousand) about planting gourds, and no one ever asked me about them, except Akiva ben Yosef.”

Rabbi Eliezer continues his policy of anger and destruction. He curses and seeks to ruin the world for deviating from the straight path and the truth. He again underscores the importance of tradition and the information transmitted through it (“Much Torah I have learned and much Torah I have taught…”).

Between the lines we see that Rabbi Akiva was exceptional among the students, for despite the excommunication he came to hear Torah from Rabbi Eliezer (also on 101a he says that the only one who came to ask him—i.e., to draw from his “storehouse”—was Rabbi Akiva). As can be seen in the mishnah Sanhedrin 67a:

Rabbi Akiva says in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua: Two who pluck gourds—one who plucks is exempt and one who plucks is liable. One who performs an act is liable; one who merely “holds the eyes” (creates an illusion) is exempt.

And in the Gemara there 68a:

But did not Rabbi Akiva learn this from Rabbi Yehoshua? But it was taught: When Rabbi Eliezer fell ill, Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues came to visit him. He was sitting in his canopy, and they were sitting in his hall, and that day was the eve of Shabbat. His son Hyrcanus came in to remove his tefillin; he rebuked him and left reproached. He (Rabbi Akiva) said to his colleagues: “It seems to me that my father’s mind has become confused.” He said to them: “His mind and the mind of his mother have become confused? How can one leave a prohibition entailing stoning and engage in a prohibition that is only a Rabbinic rest?” When the sages saw that his mind was settled, they entered and sat before him at a distance of four cubits. He said to them: “Why have you come?” They said to him: “We have come to learn Torah.” He said to them: “And until now, why did you not come?” They said to him: “We did not have the time.” He said to them: “I am amazed if they will die their own death.” Rabbi Akiva said to him: “What about mine?” He said to him: “Yours is more grievous than theirs.” He took his two arms and placed them on his heart and said: “Woe to you, my two arms, that are like two Torah scrolls that are being rolled up. Much Torah I have learned and much Torah I have taught. Much Torah I have learned, and I have not taken from my teachers even like a dog licking from the sea. Much Torah I have taught, and my students have not taken from me more than a paintbrush from its tube. And not only that—I expound three hundred laws about the intense white spot, and no one ever asked me about them. And not only that—I expound three hundred laws (and some say three thousand) about planting gourds, and no one ever asked me about them, except Akiva ben Yosef. Once, he and I were walking along the road; he said to me: ‘Rabbi, teach me about planting gourds.’ I said one word, and the entire field filled with gourds. He said to me: ‘Rabbi, you have taught me their planting; teach me their uprooting.’ I said one word, and they all gathered to one place.” They said to him: “What about the ball, the amos, the amulet, the bundle of pearls, and the small weight?” He said to them: “They are impure, and their purification is with what they are.” “What about a shoe on top of the amos?” He said to them: “It is pure,” and his soul departed in purity. Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet and said: “The ban is released! The ban is released!” On Motza’ei Shabbat, Rabbi Akiva met him—from Caesarea to Lod he was striking his flesh until his blood flowed to the ground. He opened with a eulogy and said: “My father, my father, chariot of Israel and its horsemen! I have much money, but I have no moneychanger to exchange it (i.e., many teachings, but no master to clarify them).” It turns out he learned the teaching from Rabbi Eliezer, but without reasoning; then he learned it from Rabbi Yehoshua and received its reasoning.

We see that Rabbi Akiva learns the law of “two who pluck gourds” from Rabbi Eliezer. From him he receives the law as tradition, without understanding; afterwards he turns to Rabbi Yehoshua, who explains the law and convinces him with reasoning, and only then does he accept it. Thus Rabbi Akiva begins in Rabbi Eliezer’s study hall, from whom he receives the information given at Sinai; then he moves to Rabbi Yehoshua’s study hall, which gives him the method and the explanation. Both are counted by him as his masters. Rabbi Akiva is the great synthesis between these two poles: the Torah of tradition (cedar) that he received from Rabbi Eliezer and the Torah of deliberation that he received from Rabbi Yehoshua. He himself forged the synthesis—a tradition of reed, that is, a dynamic tradition. Debate integrates with the tradition that comes from Sinai, and this combination has accompanied us ever since. Precisely Rabbi Akiva ben Yosef—certainly not the chief rebel nor the most militant among them—leads the Torah onward to future generations, because in him the complete and balanced synthesis appears. Therefore Rabbi Akiva is considered the father of the entire Oral Torah as it has come down to us, as Rabbi Yohanan says (Bavli Sanhedrin 86a):

“Anonymous Mishnayot are Rabbi Meir; anonymous Tosefta is Rabbi Nehemiah; anonymous Sifra is Rabbi Yehuda; anonymous Sifrei is Rabbi Shimon; and all of them follow the view of Rabbi Akiva.”

The description I have offered thus far relates to thesis and antithesis a bit simplistically. Clearly there was never a tradition of a truly hollow pipe, and there was never a complete disregard of tradition and an exclusive focus on debate and arguments (Rabbi Yehoshua did not invent a new Torah; he, too, is nourished by what was given at Sinai and all that was created en route to us). My claim is that we are dealing with a process of changing ethos and consciousness no less than a substantive change. We saw that the share of debate increases at the expense of adherence to tradition (the pipe becomes less hollow). This is a change within the tradition itself. Simultaneously there is a change in the attitude toward tradition—that is, in consciousness. Those who transmitted the tradition (the “copyists of the report”) until that generation (like Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Eliezer) lived with the consciousness as if they were hollow pipes. But from that generation on, the sages began to internalize that this is not the case. Awareness develops that pipes are never hollow and never were. This reflexivity is new and increases as generations pass. The practical change is accompanied by a change in consciousness. On the one hand, this is a necessity, for we are human beings and not hollow pipes. On the other hand, this necessity is not to be condemned—we must be aware of it (as we have seen, it even has positive value).

False Consciousness

My last claim means that a tradition of cedar is primarily a false consciousness. There is no such thing—but there are people who live with such a consciousness. Even Rabbi Eliezer, who lived with the consciousness of a hollow pipe, that he was merely drawing and giving to drink, lived within an imagined ethos. He himself certainly innovated and shaped the tradition he received, even if he was not aware of it. To see this, consider the contradiction between the sugyot that deal with Rabbi Eliezer the Great. On the one hand, as we saw, he never said anything he had not heard from his master (Bavli Sukkah 27b and Yoma 66b, and elsewhere). On the other hand, we find that after he finished studying with his masters and his father came to visit him, he said things “that an ear had never heard.”[7] In Ma’amarei ha-Re’iyah there is a letter in which he expresses appreciation for Rabbi Avraham Bornsztain, the Sochatchover Rebbe, and among other things he addresses this contradiction and writes:

“At first glance this contradicts Rabbi Eliezer’s trait of never saying anything he had not heard from his master. We must say: had it been said that he spoke things that no mouth had ever uttered, this would indeed contradict the rule that he never said anything he had not heard from his master. But since it says that ‘no ear had ever heard’—we understand that the mouth of the master, the father of Torah, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, said them; but among all those who heard, Rabbi Eliezer the Great excelled with such deep attentiveness that his ear heard in his master’s Torah what others did not hear. It thus emerges that he truly did not say anything he had not heard from his master, and his Torah was a complete Torah that has a home in its father (beit av); and nonetheless, it was all newly articulated by the power of his holy intellect.”

Rabbi Eliezer heard from his master things that “no ear had ever heard.” That is, Rabbi Eliezer, too, was a great innovator—only he extracted his innovations from his teachers’ words, and perhaps he himself was not aware that he was innovating his own ideas. Likewise, what he heard from his teachers had not been heard by any ear—and in my understanding, not even by his teachers’ own ears. The student hears within his master’s words meanings and implications of which the master himself is not always aware, and this is one of the mechanisms of the tradition’s development. This is the dynamic continuation of tradition—not a hollow pipe and not invention. In the philosophy of science this is called the articulation of a theory. The lesson is that the dichotomy between tradition and innovation/reasoning is not so sharp. The conclusion from this whole discussion is that there is no tradition without innovation (a tradition of a hollow pipe), and there is no place for innovations that are not based on tradition.

Following these points, we may understand the conclusion of the students’ visit to Rabbi Eliezer and the moment of his death, as described in Bavli Sanhedrin 68a cited above. There it is described that, ultimately, his soul departed in purity, and then Rabbi Yehoshua said that the ban (i.e., the vow) was released. In other words, they understood that, in the end, Rabbi Eliezer had understood this and thereby repented and joined them. In this state, the ban (excommunication) was released.

A Closing Note

Of course, all the events described here did not occur in a single calendar day. These events lasted for quite a few years, and the expression “on that day” sharpens and accentuates the fact that there was a clear and sharp reversal in that period. It is a significant stage in an ongoing historical process. Moreover, the process of “dynamization” of the tradition did not occur only in one segment of history. It is a process that began at Mount Sinai, where the Torah was given, and continues throughout the history of transmitting the Torah until our days. Along the way, different sages add their human imprint to the Torah we received from Sinai; debates take place regarding the legitimacy of interpretations and the balance between tradition and deliberation, and of course about clarifying the ideas themselves. This entire ensemble is what we call “Torah,” and it is what passes from generation to generation. Our tradition is a dynamic tradition—a tradition of reed and not of cedar—according to Rabbi Akiva.

In the next column I will try to sharpen further the essential meaning of this dynamism—that is, why it has intrinsic value and not only instrumental value. There we will address the meaning of plurality of opinions in halakhah and beyond.

[1] The Gemara concludes and says: “Wherever we say ‘on that day’—it was that day,” i.e., every place in the Talmud where the phrase “on that day” appears refers to the day of Rabban Gamliel’s deposition. At the end of this preface I clarify that it does not necessarily mean a single calendar day; see there.

[2] See Gittin 56b.

[3] My thanks to Rabbi Meir Toiber for pointing me to this understanding. Interestingly, this incident too is described as having taken place “on that day,” but plainly it refers to the day when Beit Shammai outnumbered Beit Hillel regarding the eighteen decrees (see Mishnah Shabbat 1:4). One might conjecture that this event too occurred on “our” “that day.”

Usually the violent clash is attributed to the rivalry between the zealots and the moderates in the Great Revolt against the Romans, with Beit Hillel inclined to moderation and Beit Shammai to zealotry. It seems to me there is an influence here of preconceived notions regarding the zealotry of Beit Shammai and the tolerance of Beit Hillel as perceived today outside the beit midrash world. Even today, many who are considered extreme and uncompromising in their religious outlooks (mainly in the Haredi world) hold moderate political views; this is not the place to expand.

[4] Though a more plausible interpretation is that he was “in excommunication” (shamta). Perhaps it is a play on words and both are true.

[5] In the Gemara the reading is “Rabbi Elazar,” but in light of the mishnah in Tractate Yadayim 4: it is clear that this is Rabbi Eliezer. As is known, Rabbi Eliezer’s place was in Lod.

[6] Rashi interprets Rabbi Eliezer’s words as thanksgiving to God for having hit upon the truth. From the plain sense of the Gemara, it seems this is a critique of “reinventing the wheel.” Hence he also blinds Rabbi Yose. This requires further study.

[7] Avot de-Rabbi Natan (Schechter), version A, chap. 6. See also Ma’amar ha-Ittim by Rama mi-Pano, chap. 10.