Disputes: History and Essence – Rabbi Michael Abraham – Lesson 2

Table of Contents

• [0:00] The complication of Torah knowledge and Pachad Yitzchak
• [1:04] The roles of the Sanhedrin and dealing with disputes
• [5:28] The development of dispute through Pirkei Avot
• [6:47] The two Yose ben— the first dispute
• [9:24] Conflict in the Greek period
• [11:06] The founding of Yavneh and the authority of Rabban Yohanan
• [14:38] Turning dispute into a value of the study hall
• [21:59] The debate over the evening prayer — Rabban Gamliel and Yehoshua
• [27:40] Rabban Gamliel versus Rabbi Elazar and the replacement of the office
• [28:49] The negotiations over the head of the academy
• [31:06] The story of Hillel and democratization in learning
• [32:19] The Happy Prince as a metaphor for a broader outlook
• [33:26] Tractate Eduyot and a change of approach in examining evidence
• [37:18] The dispute over Yehuda the Ammonite convert in the study hall
• [43:55] Rabbi Elazar and the argument over signs and miracles
• [48:22] The shift: Torah belongs to human beings and not to a hollow conduit
• [52:27] Rabban Gamliel’s reply and the reconciliation with Rabbi Yehoshua

Summary

General Overview

The text presents an outlook that sees Torah dispute not as a malfunction but as a value from the outset, relying on the Sages, on the Talmudic passage in Chagigah, and on Rabbi Hutner’s expansion in Pachad Yitzchak on Hanukkah. The speaker opposes the ideal of a world without disputes and differing customs, and presents the Sanhedrin as an institution meant to decide only where a uniform standard is needed to make shared life possible, not to erase a plurality of views. He describes a historical process in which the phenomenon of dispute arises from mechanisms of forgetting and from the fact that “they did not serve their teachers sufficiently,” intensifies in the Second Temple period, and receives legitimacy and even idealization through the revolution of Yavneh, in which an authoritarian-traditional model is replaced by a model of negotiation, hearing different opinions, and human decision-making.

Dispute as an Ideal versus the Dream of the Sanhedrin

The text states that the Sages and Rabbi Hutner turn dispute into something ideal from the outset and see it as a value rather than an accident. The text describes a common expectation that with the coming of the messiah and the return of the Sanhedrin, disputes and customs will disappear, and contrasts this with a personal position that sees this as a “nightmare” and rejects the imposition of intellectual uniformity. The text defines the role of the Sanhedrin as deciding only in matters in which it is hard to live together when people act differently, such as public and policy decisions, or personal situations like kashrut that prevent people from eating with one another.

Authority, Coercion, and the Distinction between “Telling You You’re Wrong” and “Forcing Action”

The text rejects the idea that authority means dictating to a person that he is wrong, and defines authority as the ability to say, “You need to do what we say,” even if the person thinks he is right. The text acknowledges that there are areas in which a binding standard is needed to prevent the breakdown of shared life, but opposes turning all issues into one uniform set that eliminates dispute. The text describes a world without dispute as a depressing and boring reality, and brings an anecdote about Itamar Procaccia from the Weizmann Institute, who has trouble remaining quiet in a “Scandinavian” environment devoid of friction.

The Development of Dispute through Pirkei Avot: From a Hollow Conduit to Torah Emerging from Human Beings

The text describes, through Pirkei Avot, a shift from a consciousness of merely transmitting tradition to a consciousness in which human beings “say Torah.” The text states that the innovation begins in the period of Shimon the Righteous, when it became legitimate for what a person thinks and says to become Torah, in contrast to the consciousness of a “hollow conduit” whose role is simply to pass things on accurately. The text identifies the disciples of Hillel and Shammai as the point where unresolved disputes intensify because “they did not serve their teachers sufficiently.”

The Two Yose ben…, Chagigah 16, and Rashi on the First Dispute in the Oral Torah

The text identifies the dispute of the “two Yose ben…” from the Greek period as an early dispute that grows stronger and becomes established among Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel around the time of the destruction and after it. The text refers to the Mishnah in Chagigah 16 and says that Rashi writes that this is the first dispute in the Oral Torah, while mentioning that he thinks it appears in the Jerusalem Talmud tractate. The text connects the Sages’ description of the Greeks, that they “darkened the eyes of Israel,” to the fact that “they did not serve their teachers sufficiently” and to the development of dispute through the penetration of logic and human interpretation.

Greek Wisdom, Undermining the Structure, and the Conflict between Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai

The text explains that the use of logic and human interpretation creates disputes, whereas a model of mere transmission of tradition reduces them to the question of the reliability of the transmitter. The text describes a fierce conflict between Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai, including a Jerusalem Talmud description that “they would kill one another,” alongside pastoral descriptions that they still did not refrain from marrying into one another’s families. The text presents the dispute of Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel as destabilizing the structure to the point of fear that the Torah would split into “two Torahs,” and then into “four and ten and a hundred,” and describes a war directed also against Greek wisdom, beyond the struggle against idolatry.

The Reversal in Attitude toward Greece: “The beauty of Yefet in the tents of Shem” and Turning a Threat into an Ideal

The text points to a shift in which the Greeks receive a relatively positive attitude through the phrase “the beauty of Yefet in the tents of Shem” in the Talmud in Megillah. The text describes a process in which something seen as destabilizing is, after the fact, turned into something one can learn from and even into an ideal, as part of the process by which dispute becomes a positive part of the ethos.

Yavneh, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, the First Generation, and the War of Authority versus Autonomy

The text places the revolution of Yavneh around “Give me Yavneh and its sages” and sees Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai as a disciple of the disciples of Hillel and Shammai. The text describes Rabbi Eliezer the Great and Rabban Gamliel as elders of Yavneh’s first generation who tried to fight dispute by imposing authority by force, from within a traditionalist outlook that preferred an ancient source over a human position. The text defines the confrontation as a war between authoritarian traditionalists and “autonomists” who sought to act according to what they themselves thought, and presents the autonomists as recognizing dispute first as an existing phenomenon and later also as a positive one.

The Stages of Absorbing New Phenomena: War, Compromise, Idealization

The text offers a model of three stages in relation to new or external ideas: fighting them, then a de facto compromise born of recognition that there is no way to eliminate them, and then idealization that turns them into a value. The text compares this to processes such as Hasidism, openness to external wisdom, and external values, and adds an example about Brisk and Rabbi Chaim and about the disciples of Rabbi Kook, in which a revolution is retrospectively turned into “an eternal tradition.” The text argues that people who fight for “tradition” sometimes do so precisely from a place where they have no tradition, that external extremism expresses an internal struggle, and even states that those who fight against “inventions” are often “the greatest inventors of their own generation.”

The Removal of Rabban Gamliel, the Oven of Akhnai, and the Excommunication of Rabbi Eliezer as Foundational Moves

The text describes the removal of Rabban Gamliel and the excommunication of Rabbi Eliezer as part of the revolution in which the rules of the game change from authority to a framework of discourse and decision. The text presents the stories as linked to one another, both literarily and conceptually, around the same point: authority versus the legitimacy of dispute. The text states that in the end Rabban Gamliel returns, Rabbi Eliezer remains under excommunication until his death, and later Rabbi Akiva creates a mediation between the outlooks, so that the contemporary ethos is a middle position.

The Source of the Idea and the Move to Learning the Talmudic Passages

The text attributes the basic idea to a book by Menachem Fisch, Knowing Wisdom, from Tel Aviv University, and notes that the speaker expanded it further. The text describes a move from presenting a conceptual framework to embedding it within the actual Talmudic passages shown, emphasizing that the stories are constructed with strong literary power and shared tension.

Berakhot: The Evening Prayer, the Humiliation of Rabbi Yehoshua, and the Revolution in the Study Hall

The text brings the Talmud in Berakhot about a student who asks whether the evening prayer is optional or obligatory, receives contradictory answers from Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabban Gamliel, and ignites a public confrontation in the study hall. The text describes Rabban Gamliel as asking threateningly, “Is there anyone who disagrees on this matter?”, Rabbi Yehoshua denying it with “No,” and his humiliation by being made to stand while Rabban Gamliel lectures, until the people stop Hutzpit the translator. The text presents the removal as a “rebellion” and a “putsch,” the choice of Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah because of wisdom, wealth, and being “tenth from Ezra,” and the removal of the doorkeeper and broadening access to the study hall with hundreds of benches added.

Opening the Study Hall, Tractate Eduyot, and Deciding Jewish Law through Negotiation

The text explains that the policy “Any student whose inside is not like his outside shall not enter the study hall” is connected to the view that Torah is the transmission of tradition and the reliability of the transmitter, whereas the revolution allows claims to be judged on their own merits. The text states that “Eduyot was taught on that day” and that “there was no Jewish law pending in the study hall that they did not explain,” and interprets this as decision by way of negotiation rather than by historical clarification of traditions. The text describes the change in Rabban Gamliel’s behavior after his removal, his remaining in the study hall as a student, and the dispute over the Ammonite convert that is resolved in favor of Rabbi Yehoshua, as a demonstration of acceptance of the new rules of argument and decision.

The Reconciliation of Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua, Social Gaps, and Return to the Presidency in Rotation

The text describes how Rabban Gamliel goes to reconcile with Rabbi Yehoshua, discovers his poverty through the blackened walls of his house, and hears the rebuke, “Woe to the generation whose leader you are,” for not recognizing the distress of Torah scholars. The text recounts the request for forgiveness, “I have submitted myself to you; forgive me,” the initial refusal, and then forgiveness “for the sake of my father’s honor.” The text describes the sages’ decision to restore Rabban Gamliel alongside Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah in a mechanism of alternating lectures, and identifies the student who stirred up the conflict as Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai.

Bava Metzia: The Oven of Akhnai, “It Is Not in Heaven,” and the Excommunication of Rabbi Eliezer

The text brings the story of the Oven of Akhnai, in which Rabbi Eliezer declares pure and the sages declare impure, and describes how he tries to prove his view through a carob tree, a stream of water, the walls of the study hall, and a heavenly voice, but the sages reject miraculous proofs. The text presents Rabbi Yehoshua’s response, “It is not in heaven,” as the principle that decision is made by human beings according to “follow the majority,” even against a heavenly voice. The text describes the burning of the items Rabbi Eliezer had declared pure, his excommunication, Rabbi Akiva’s mission to inform him gently, and Rabbi Eliezer’s mournful reaction and the harm done to the world, described as one-third of the olives, wheat, and barley.

Rabban Gamliel on the Ship, “So That Disputes Not Increase in Israel,” and Ima Shalom

The text describes the danger of Rabban Gamliel’s ship sinking and his prayer that this was because of the matter of Rabbi Eliezer, together with the declaration that he did not act for his own honor but “for Your honor, so that disputes not increase in Israel.” The text suggests that this can be read either as a justification of his original approach or as an explanation of his joining the excommunication after he had repented. The text recounts Ima Shalom, Rabbi Eliezer’s wife and Rabban Gamliel’s sister, who prevents him from falling on his face in prayer out of fear of the spiritual consequences.

Chagigah: Rabbi Yehoshua in Peki’in, “A Study Hall Cannot Be Without Innovation,” and the Section of Hakhel

The text brings the story of Rabbi Yohanan ben Berokah and Rabbi Elazar ben Chisma, who come from Yavneh to Rabbi Yehoshua in Peki’in, and he asks them, “What innovation was there today in the study hall?” The text emphasizes his statement, “A study hall cannot be without innovation,” as a declaration that Torah is not only transmission but also legitimate human creation. The text connects his question, “Whose Sabbath was it?” to the rotation between Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, and brings the exposition of the passage of Hakhel, “the men and the women and the children,” as a declaration that everyone enters the study hall, including the children, “in order to give reward to those who bring them.”

Chagigah: “Masters of Gatherings,” a Multiplicity of Opinions, and “Make Your Ear like a Funnel”

The text brings the exposition on “The words of the wise are like goads, and like well-fastened nails, masters of gatherings; they were given by one shepherd,” and interprets it as the basis for the ideal of dispute. The text quotes the description of Torah scholars sitting in groups, where “these declare impure and these declare pure, these forbid and these permit,” and presents the solution as “all of them were given by one shepherd.” The text concludes the section with Rabbi Yehoshua instructing, “Make your ear like a funnel,” to hear all sides, and blessing that “the generation is not orphaned” when Elazar ben Azaryah is within it.

The Contrast in Lod: Rabbi Eliezer, Tradition versus Vote, and the Blinding of Yose ben Durmaskit

The text brings the parallel story in which Rabbi Yose ben Durmaskit comes to greet Rabbi Eliezer in Lod and hears that the sages of Yavneh “counted and concluded” regarding Ammon and Moab, that they tithe the poor man’s tithe in the Sabbatical year. The text describes Rabbi Eliezer’s reaction, “Stretch out your hands and receive your eyes,” and Yose’s blindness, alongside Rabbi Eliezer’s weeping and the claim, “The secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him, and His covenant to make it known to them.” The text presents his position that “do not be concerned with your counting,” and that this is what he had received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, “who heard from his teacher and his teacher from his teacher,” and after his mind settles, he prays that Yose’s eyesight return, and it does.

Sanhedrin: The Day of Rabbi Eliezer’s Death and the Continuation of the Story with Rabbi Akiva

The text notes that there are two stories in tractate Sanhedrin describing the day of Rabbi Eliezer’s death, when the sages come to part from him after he had been under excommunication and had not been asked about matters of Jewish law, even though he “held the entire Torah.” The text opens a section on a Mishnah about sorcery, “Two gather cucumbers,” and the distinction between “one who performs an act” and “one who deceives the eyes,” and brings the Talmud’s question how Rabbi Akiva says this in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua even though he learned it from Rabbi Eliezer; then the quotation begins, “When Rabbi Eliezer fell ill, Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues entered to visit him,” and breaks off.

Maybe that’s how it is—this looks like some kind of accident, like a kind of decline, a complication in the Torah-based transmission of information. But in the end, both in the Sages and, as I already mentioned, in the Talmud in Chagigah—we’ll maybe see it today—Rabbi Hutner expands on this in Pahad Yitzhak, in Pahad Yitzhak on Hanukkah: they turned dispute into some kind of a priori phenomenon, into a kind of ideology. They saw value in disputes and didn’t see them merely as some kind of accident or problem. It reminds me a bit now that a lot of people, when you ask them—or you hear from people who are already waiting for the Messiah to come and for the Sanhedrin to return—they say: then we won’t have this anymore, then everyone will stop with his own customs and his own disputes and his own opinions, everything will be clear, it’ll be clear what’s right to do and what’s not right to do. During the time of the Sanhedrin there weren’t disputes? They just decided them in the Sanhedrin. So I said that as far as I’m concerned, that’s a nightmare. I mean, that’s a nightmare for me. It’s a nightmare for me. What’s so bad about dispute? I mean, the Sanhedrin’s role is not to eliminate disputes—at least not according to the later conception that sees dispute as something legitimate from the outset. The Sanhedrin needs to decide in those matters where it’s hard to live together if we behave differently. There are such things. There of course the Sanhedrin—in public questions, like making policy decisions, say, for example, or something like that—then it’s clear that the government or the Sanhedrin, doesn’t matter, the central institution has to make that decision. It can’t be that I decide I’m making a peace agreement with the Palestinians and that’s the only possible agreement, and Hamas decides to make a peace agreement and Fatah doesn’t, or vice versa. But in principle there has to be one decision; it doesn’t help that there are lots of opinions. Also on the personal level, many times maybe that’s also true, even on the level of kashrut. Say if there’s someone for whom something is really forbidden on a Torah level, then there is still some point in deciding it, so that you can eat at someone else’s house and someone else can eat at yours. So there are quite a few things where there’s reason to decide in order to make shared life possible. But there is no reason at all to decide just so there won’t be dispute. What’s the problem if people think differently and behave differently? What’s bad about that? Why do I need someone to dictate to me what to do and what to think and what not? I don’t like that. It’s not some ideal I long for. No, no one is dictating to you—the Sanhedrin informs you that you’re wrong. What does it mean that it informs me that I’m wrong? I don’t recognize it as someone who informs me that I’m wrong. It can force me not to behave as I do, but it can’t dictate to me that I’m wrong. I think I’m right—what do you mean? It decided that one should act this way. Right, because the Sanhedrin has authority. So the authority is not to tell me that I’m wrong; the authority is to tell me: you have to do what we say, even if you think you’re right. Think that you’re right, by all means—but you have to do what we say. That’s the meaning of authority. I don’t have to accept that they’re also right. That’s a different discussion, and that’s not the meaning of authority either. The meaning of authority is that you have to do what they said. So I’m saying that’s perfectly fine—there needs to be such authority, and there are certain things in which you definitely need to impose some standard that obligates everyone, because otherwise it’ll be hard to live together. But why would one want that to be true in every topic? Just to turn everyone into the same thing—I don’t see any value in that. On the contrary, it’s quite a depressing reality in my eyes. What will we fight about? What will we argue over? How will we live—boringly? It reminds me that my sponsor at the Weizmann Institute, where I did my postdoc—he was the head of the Department of Chemical Physics, a nice, pleasant fellow, Itamar Procaccia. A political type, a very important physicist, he was with the UN. A relative of the judge—his brother was married to her. So he told us once that he went to some Scandinavian country, I don’t remember which, Denmark I think, and he got there for a few days. He was a very politically involved type, a leftist type, everything annoyed him, he was angry all the time. He got there and said: okay, now I’m quiet, nothing interests me, I’m lying on the bed, feet on the wall, I’ve got a week of vacation now, I’m not hearing anything. He said it took me about five minutes. After five minutes I already started to itch—something here, no, impossible, I can’t live like this. That’s more or less the reality when there are no disputes. Okay, in any case, so we talked a bit about the development of dispute. We saw that indeed, at least the mechanism by which dispute arose was really some sort of mechanism of forgetting, or of students who did not fully attend upon their teachers. But even mechanisms that, from the outset, point to a problem can produce positive results. I mean, that can happen. And in this case, this result also has positive aspects. Then I spoke a bit about the historical development of dispute through Pirkei Avot: 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. Shimon the Righteous—they said three things. Shimon the Righteous was among the last of the Men of the Great Assembly. He would say. And then I asked: didn’t the ones before him say things? The answer is no. They didn’t say. Meaning, people began to say Torah in the Second Temple period, with Shimon the Righteous. It was an innovation—that Torah could come out of human beings. Meaning that what a person says, thinks and says, suddenly becomes Torah. Until that period the consciousness was—and I talked about this, that this wasn’t really the reality, but it was the consciousness—it was the consciousness of a hollow conduit. Meaning that basically you are supposed to transmit the Torah. You received it from Moses—what has one born of woman to do among us? What can you possibly have to do with Torah? Take what you received, pass the baton onward. Your role is to be as clean as possible, as transparent as possible, and to transmit the Torah in the most accurate way possible. At a certain stage, the students of Hillel and Shammai, who did not fully attend upon their teachers—and that’s already the end of the Second Temple period—they did not fully attend upon them, and then disputes begin to develop. Disputes that are not resolved. I spoke about how there were also disputes earlier, but they were not left unresolved. The two Yoseis—that’s already in the Greek period—that was the first dispute, but it intensified and became fixed in the period of the two houses, the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel. That’s already around the destruction and after the destruction. Did the two Yoseis disagree? Yes. The Mishnah in Chagigah 16. And Rashi there writes—it’s in the Jerusalem Talmud tractate, I think—Rashi there writes that this is the first dispute in the Oral Torah. The Sages say about the Greeks that they darkened the eyes of Israel. What does that mean? That’s the not fully attending upon their teachers. This concern—that once again, when I look at it through our eyes today, then Greek wisdom, basically reason, the use of reason—that’s what did the job. Because the moment you use your reason and people begin to interpret and explain what they think and what they don’t think, disputes arise, because we have different opinions. And as long as you don’t allow yourself to be involved, and instead you simply pass it from your rabbi to your student, then naturally disputes don’t arise. And if they do, then you check who is the more reliable transmitter. It’s not a discussion of who is right, but rather who is the more reliable transmitter, and they decide that this is the correct tradition and pass it on. A binding tradition, and also a correct one, and they pass it on. In the period of the students of Hillel and Shammai, suddenly something emerged—the encounter with Greek wisdom, though that was later—but the encounter with Greek wisdom essentially created what we call the phenomenon of the Oral Torah, what we today call the Oral Torah. The roots may have come earlier, from Sinai, but what we know today is really a very late product. And that’s why disputes also arise, because human beings begin to be involved in the interpretation of Torah and in creating Torah. So this starts with Shimon the Righteous, takes shape through the two Yoseis, and reaches the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel throughout the Second Temple period. And then is the confrontation with Greek wisdom also connected with this? It definitely could be. Because when they said they darkened the eyes of Israel, they felt that this whole business really destabilized the whole enterprise. And I also spoke last time about the crisis that occurred in the period of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai, when the Jerusalem Talmud says that they would kill one another. There are very pastoral descriptions saying they didn’t refrain from marrying into each other’s families, but there are also less pastoral descriptions—that they would kill one another. Both and both. Yes, right. That they would marry women after killing their brothers-in-law. So they killed one another—or their own people, I don’t remember anymore. And this thing is, once again, “killed” could only be metaphorical, I don’t know if it’s a factual description, but it’s clear that it comes to say that there was some conflict here of high intensity, as they say today. And I think the reason for this is really the emergence of the state of dispute, this new state of dispute. Not just two differences of opinion where they talk a little, clarify things and close the file, but two houses that cannot reach a decision. As the Talmud in Eruvin says, for two and a half years the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel disagreed and could not reach an agreed decision. And it’s the feeling of the destabilization of the whole structure. Basically it means that the Torah is splitting and becoming two Torahs; at the next stage it will be four and ten. And ten and a hundred, and then basically you can shut the whole thing down. Therefore the feeling is that Greek wisdom, which darkens the eyes of Israel, brings human beings into Torah, Torah into human beings, creates disputes, and somehow disintegrates the whole thing from the inside. And then there was a very hard war, expressed in the fact that they killed one another, against this phenomenon. And part of that war really was the war against Greek wisdom and against Hellenism in general. So beyond idolatry there was also a war against Greek wisdom. But in retrospect there is suddenly some conception that seems really the opposite by 180 degrees: “May the beauty of Japheth dwell in the tents of Shem,” the Talmud in Megillah. And suddenly they see that there is something there—the Greeks get a better attitude than any other culture or any other gentile. And suddenly they turn this into some sort of ideal, into something positive, into something one can learn from. And that is the same process I’m talking about here. Because what happened—and I spoke about this a bit at the end of last time—around the ideal of the first generation of Yavneh, of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, which is “Give me Yavneh and its sages”—he establishes Yavneh, the Sanhedrin leaves Jerusalem for Yavneh, the destruction occurs—he was a student of the students of Hillel and Shammai, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. Then the first generation of Yavneh was Rabbi Eliezer the Great, ben Hyrcanus, and Rabban Gamliel, who were leaders. Rabban Gamliel was the Nasi, and Rabbi Eliezer was also there in a very senior position. And they were the elders of that generation, the first generation of Yavneh. And they tried to fight the phenomenon of dispute by imposing authority by force. What doesn’t go by force goes by even more force. Meaning, very often that’s also a reaction we see in many contexts. You see a phenomenon that’s new and threatens you, and you entrench yourself even more deeply in your current view, in your conception of authority, in the conception that I’m not willing to hear opinions that don’t have some ancient source, that don’t convey information to me but express a position. Don’t convey information but express a position. Why do I care about your positions? Tell me what the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Moses at Sinai—that’s what interests me. I’m not interested in what you say. Therefore Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Eliezer were authoritarian, traditionalist, and tried by force to impose the traditionalist view as part of that same war against the spreading phenomenon of dispute, against the disintegration of Torah society, of the Torah study hall. The revolution of that day in Yavneh, which I spoke about a bit, is the internalization that this doesn’t work. It doesn’t work. Meaning, the phenomenon of dispute is too deep—we’re no longer there. We’re not there anymore; we’ve already passed the point of no return. At this point there are different positions. If you try to fight this, we’ll simply kill one another—nothing will come of it. You won’t save national cohesion or the cohesion of the study hall that way. And then there was a tremendous revolution, and that is the revolution around which all these stories revolve, which I’ll still talk about a bit today: the Oven of Akhnai and the removal of Rabban Gamliel and all the “Come with your staff and your money pouch” against Rabbi Yehoshua. This is all a war of authority versus the rebel students. Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Eliezer versus the rebel students. Rabbi Yehoshua is a colleague-disciple, not really a disciple; he’s a colleague. But the younger generation are the students. The war of the authoritarians or traditionalists against the autonomists, against those who say that one should act according to what I think. And these autonomists are coming to solve the same problem—they are also coming to confront this phenomenon of dispute—but they say that solving the phenomenon of dispute does not mean simply shooting harder. Rather, solving the phenomenon of dispute means recognizing it as an existing phenomenon and perhaps even a positive one. In time it became positive even. Not just de facto because it exists—the stages that many things go through. At first you recognize it de facto, you understand that it already exists and there’s no point fighting it, and suddenly you also discover that in fact it can even be positive. Not only that you need to recognize it and be realistic. And that is the process that the attitude toward dispute basically goes through. Then this revolution happens in the first generation of Yavneh: they remove Rabban Gamliel, put Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah in his place, and the conception takes over that basically accompanies us to this day. This conception that sees dispute as something very positive, even ideal in a certain sense. You see multiplicity of opinions—“incline your ear to hear the words of those who declare impure and the words of those who declare pure.” I read a bit from the Talmud in Chagigah; we’ll see it today in a bit more detail. And this is suddenly the great revolution in which dispute becomes flesh of the flesh of the study hall. Meaning today, if you tell people that you have something against dispute, you sound delusional. That is, it’s unacceptable, and it can’t be, and it seems irrational. Also with the House of Hillel—the Jewish law follows the House of Hillel because they gave precedence, because they studied the words of the House of Shammai. And put their words first. Meaning that the House of Hillel too, already in their own time, held this. It’s a continuous process. I said that last time too—obviously this doesn’t happen as a transition from black to white. Almost no revolution happens that way. Rabbi Yitzhak Hutner once said that there are two kinds of revolutions. There is a revolution like in Russia, where they cut off the head of the tsar and put someone else in his place—the simplest thing there is. Then there is a revolution like in England: they take the king, put him in a golden glass display case, give him billions of pounds, and take away all his powers. That’s it—just so he won’t bother anyone. And he says the Chief Rabbinate is the revolution of the British type. They give them magnificent robes and a state role and tell them: don’t bother us, don’t interfere, don’t get involved in anything. So in that sense, here too there is a revolution that—actually it was even a bit Russian, this revolution here. Meaning there was a rebellion here, they deposed the Nasi. In Torah terms this was something pretty violent. There was a serious rebellion here, not simple at all. But it was a process, and in the end today we already live inside this ethos. It’s already become fixed, so it seems obvious to us, but it is really not obvious at all. Think of many processes—the process of Hasidism, the process of development toward outside wisdoms, toward outside values. All these processes go through exactly the same process. At first it threatens you, then you wage total war against it, then you basically compromise with it, you say de facto there’s nothing to do, it’s here, you can’t fight it, it’s stronger than we are. And then suddenly it becomes ideology, suddenly it becomes something that, on the contrary, is very positive and it was desirable that it exist and there are very good things in it. Meaning a great many of these processes in which we internalize ideas from outside or new ideas go through these three stages: war against, compromise against our will, and idealization. Meaning that in the end it suddenly becomes a value. Now, someone once—I think Houverty—that all kinds of original charismatic rabbis actually go through a very very interesting process that leads to this process. I remembered some association. Yes, like in Brisk they always tell you: what’s your tradition? Where does what you’re saying come from? What’s their tradition? Their tradition is Rabbi Chaim from a hundred years ago, who reinvented the wheel. But they don’t ask, because from the perspective of a post–Rabbi Chaim world, that is the giving of the Torah. Meaning Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Rabbi Chaim. That’s it, there was nothing before. They don’t grasp that Rabbi Chaim is a revolution out of nothing; from their perspective it was tradition from time immemorial. The students of Rabbi Kook are the same. But if someone asked them: what, where does your tradition come from? Which Torah scholars did you attend upon? Yes, by the way, these questions always come from a place that has no tradition—always. A place that has tradition doesn’t ask these questions. A place that has tradition is more serene; it’s not itself under pressure. After all, a person who fights is usually fighting himself. When you go to total war against a phenomenon, it’s simply because it’s also inside you. A rule with almost no exceptions—it’s always like that. All those who are extreme in some area—in character traits, in opinions, in modesty, doesn’t matter—in all these areas where they have this idée fixe, something in them in that very area is problematic. They are fighting with themselves, not fighting outside. And those who fight for tradition and for the idea that one must not invent things and so on—those are simply the greatest inventors of the generation itself. That’s how it is, that’s how it works. And people who have tradition and are serene are also willing to hear other things; they are confident in themselves, they know. It’s not that they are open—they may not accept the new things—but they won’t fight them either. Fine? They are very serene. They are not alarmed, they are not fighting something within themselves. Fine? It’s an interesting thing; you can see it in many places. In any case, that’s the process the attitude to tradition goes through—and in fact this whole revolution is a revolution of dispute, sorry, not tradition—actually both. And this revolution is a revolution from one state to another, when both are trying to deal with the same phenomenon, with the phenomenon of dispute that ultimately turns out impossible to fight, impossible to defeat. Therefore, if you can’t beat them, join them. Meaning, that’s basically the first stage. And then after you’ve joined, suddenly there is cognitive dissonance, right? Then suddenly it becomes an ideal. Meaning, it can’t be otherwise. And then try going out against that new conception. Do you have a tradition? What tradition? You were just born now; you didn’t come from anywhere. Yes, but now it already seems to you that it couldn’t be otherwise—what do you mean. So that’s the discussion there, and as a result they remove Rabban Gamliel, they excommunicate Rabbi Eliezer. In the end Rabban Gamliel does return, Rabbi Eliezer remains under excommunication until the day of his death. And in the end—I’ll get to this later today—there is Rabbi Akiva, who creates some sort of mediation between the two conceptions. And I think our ethos today is a kind of middle ethos. That’s Rabbi Akiva, not Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah. But I’ll get to that today in stages. Come, I photocopied some pages. There won’t be enough for everyone, but maybe for every two, or more than two, whoever can share, you know. Here, take this. I photocopied those Talmud passages we stayed with last time, so we can see them inside. I think this really is—like I said—this is a collection of stories with enormous literary power. I mean, it’s hard to miss the connection between them even before reading them, even before thinking whether there really is a connection between the stories. What is unique about them is the force of the tension that accompanies them and the narrative intensity that accompanies them. It is very clear that they somehow revolve around the same issue. And when you look inside, you see that they really do reflect a confrontation around that same point I described here. As I said last time too, the basic idea is taken from a book by Menachem Fisch, To Know Wisdom, from Tel Aviv University. I expanded it a bit, but the basic idea and the strength come from him. The Talmud in Berakhot—that’s the first source you have. Earlier I described the framework. Now I want to anchor this in the sugya themselves. Let’s see how this thing worked. The Rabbis taught: It happened that a certain student came before Rabbi Yehoshua. Notice the figures—the figures are not random figures in all the stories. Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabban Gamliel, a bit of Rabbi Akiva—this is the first and second generation of Yavneh, okay? Students of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and their students more or less. He came before Rabbi Yehoshua and said to him: Is the evening prayer optional or obligatory? He said to him: Optional. He came before Rabban Gamliel and said to him: Is the evening prayer optional or obligatory? He said to him: Obligatory. This student was a troublemaker. He said to him: But Rabbi Yehoshua told me it’s optional. He’s playing games, manipulations. He said to him: Wait until the shield-bearers enter the study hall. And this is the study hall—I remind you—that of Rabban Gamliel. We already know this is a restricted study hall. Whoever is not inwardly like outwardly does not enter this study hall. Fine. So he says, wait until all my guys come in, and then I’ll explain to you who is right. You can imagine what they’ll say, all Rabban Gamliel’s people. The questioner stood and asked: Is the evening prayer optional or obligatory? Rabban Gamliel said to him: Obligatory. Rabban Gamliel said to the sages—notice this: Is there anyone who disagrees on this matter? It’s hard to miss the threatening tone, right? Is there anyone here, among the guys—if you want to leave the study hall, just say so. Meaning, is there anyone here who disagrees on this matter? And he was the Nasi of the Sanhedrin, yes? He had not only Torah authority but also formal authority. Like the story of Khrushchev. In that famous speech in which Khrushchev denounced Stalin’s crimes, someone stood up and asked: But you were there too, Comrade Nikita, and so on and so on. So Khrushchev waits a moment before answering, and then he roars loudly: Who asked that question? The whole audience, 1,700 people, freezes in place from mortal fear. After a minute he says to them: Now you understand? Good. Rabban Gamliel said to him: Obligatory. Rabban Gamliel said to the sages: Is there anyone who disagrees on this matter? Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: No. Rabbi Yehoshua, who had said and disagreed with him, said to him: No. There—exactly like Khrushchev, yes? He said to him: No. He said to him: But was it not said to me in your name that it is optional? Rabban Gamliel says to him: I caught you red-handed. Are you trying to trick me? Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai already told me that you disagreed with me. And notice how Rabban Gamliel receives the fact that someone disagreed with him. I said, Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Eliezer are the ones holding authority in their hands. He said to him—Rabban Gamliel continues speaking here—Yehoshua, stand on your feet and let them testify against you. Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet and said: If I were alive and he were dead, the living could deny the dead. But now that I am alive and he is alive, how can the living deny the living? Rabban Gamliel was sitting and expounding, and Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet. He humiliated him, apparently, yes? Rabban Gamliel was sitting and expounding, and Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet. He keeps him standing, yes? He said to him: Stand, Yehoshua. The elder among the Tannaim, yes? Of that generation. And he seated him? No—he kept him standing. Rabban Gamliel was sitting and expounding and Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet, until all the people murmured and said to Hutzpit the interpreter: Stop. Stop translating the words of Rabban Gamliel. And he stopped. The rebellion. And they said to Hutzpit the interpreter: We don’t want to hear him anymore, because of the way he is treating Rabbi Yehoshua. He stopped. They said: How long will he go on tormenting him? How much can he torment Rabbi Yehoshua? Fine, so he disagreed with you—so what? Notice, the argument is exactly over the question whether one may disagree with the authority of the Nasi of the Sanhedrin. The argument is over the question whether there is a place to express positions, okay? The issue of whether the evening prayer is optional or obligatory—that’s not the point. That was the peg through which the real point protruded: is it permitted to disagree? Is there legitimacy in expressing a position based on the fact that you think differently? What do you mean you think differently? I told you what the truth is—be quiet, stand on your feet, that’s all. Last year on Rosh Hashanah he tormented him. That’s exactly Rabban Gamliel who told him on Yom Kippur to stand on his feet. In Bekhorot, in the incident with Rabbi Tzadok, he tormented him; here too he tormented him. Come, let us remove him. “Remove him” means both let us remove him from office and also let us rebuke him. Whom shall we appoint in his place? In place of Rabban Gamliel. This is a rebellion. A putsch. They are tossing Rabban Gamliel out of the presidency of the Sanhedrin. There had never been such a thing in history, at least known history. You need to understand—this is a story of tremendous intensity. Someone should write a book about this or show it in a movie in order to understand it. To make a film out of this would, in my opinion, definitely be a bestseller. Truly. These are very, very powerful events if you can get yourself into the institutional atmosphere that prevailed up to that point. Fine, there are disputes and they fight with each other—not a big deal. We already live inside the consciousness that developed after this revolution. But think what came before and what it means that they are doing this here. The Nasi of the Sanhedrin says to them: Friends, I’m telling you this is the truth, and this insolent fellow should stand there and not sit until I tell him. And the others get up, the students who are younger than both of them—Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabban Gamliel were among the elders of orthodoxy. So all the students get up and say: We are not willing to accept this anymore. We are removing Rabban Gamliel from his presidency, and we are not willing to accept this ongoing abuse of Rabbi Yehoshua. And then they start discussing whom to put in his place. Shall we appoint Rabbi Yehoshua? He is involved in the matter. That looks bad. It looks as if we acted on his behalf and he basically staged a provocation here in order to depose Rabban Gamliel and come in his place. Conflict of interest, yes exactly. Shall we appoint Rabbi Akiva? Perhaps he may be punished, because he has no ancestral merit. After all Rabbi Akiva was the son of converts; he has no ancestral merit. Rather let us appoint Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, for he is wise and rich and tenth from Ezra. Yes, so he has all the protections. He has clear social standing; Rabban Gamliel won’t be able to do anything to him. And he is wise, so if someone asks him something difficult he can answer. He is rich, so if he has to go serve in the emperor’s court, he too can go and serve. And he is tenth from Ezra, so he has ancestral merit and cannot be punished. They came and said to him: Is it agreeable to the master to be head of the academy? Head of the academy is like Nasi of the Sanhedrin; academy and Sanhedrin are the same thing. He said to them: I’ll go consult the members of my household. Yes, I’ll go consult the family, with his wife basically, with the authorities, as they say. He went and consulted his wife. She said to him: Perhaps they’ll remove you too. She said to him: They’ll remove you too, just as they removed Rabban Gamliel. He said to her: Let a person use a precious cup one day, and tomorrow let it break. One day they’ll use the precious cup, and then it can break tomorrow—the main thing is to sit on the chair. She said to him: You don’t have white hair. Never mind, in short there was some negotiation between them. This is what Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah meant when he said: Behold, I am like a man of seventy years and not actually seventy years old. Yes, that’s the point—that they made white hairs for him. Yes, what everyone knows from the Passover Haggadah. Basically he was young, after all, and he needed somehow to take on the appearance of an elder, so some miracle happened for him. It was taught: On that day they removed the guard at the door and permission was given to the students to enter. This is what I mentioned earlier, that Rabban Gamliel would proclaim and say: Any student whose inward is not like his outward shall not enter the study hall. On that day many benches were added. Meaning, when Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah came in and replaced Rabban Gamliel as Nasi, benches were added in the study hall. Why? So I explained this—I think I mentioned it last time. Rabban Gamliel chose the people. Earlier I presented it a bit wickedly, as if he was choosing his cronies. But I don’t think that’s right. Rather, “whose inward is not like his outward”—meaning he wanted people one could rely on as to what they say, not in whether they are wise but whether they are trustworthy. Because from his point of view, Torah, the transmission of Torah, is a hollow conduit. I want to see that when someone says something in the name of his teacher, that’s really how it is. So whoever is not inwardly like outwardly should not enter here. Fine? Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah enters after Rabban Gamliel is removed. What happened? Torah is turned upside down. Now Torah no longer passes through hollow conduits. Now Torah is the Torah of human beings, Torah of give-and-take, Torah of reasoning, Torah of not just something that gets passed on. So if that’s the case, why do I care if there are people sitting here whose inward is not like their outward? Let each person say his reasons and we’ll consider them on their own merits. Why do I care whether he is personally upright or trustworthy? He doesn’t merely have to transmit information to me, where I depend on whether I believe him or not; rather, I examine his words on their own merits. If he says a good argument, I’ll accept it even if he is wicked and untrustworthy—what do I care? In the end, what he says will be examined on its own merits, examined substantively. Therefore, after Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah entered, benches multiplied in the study hall, because he no longer made the selection that Rabban Gamliel made. Rabbi Yohanan said—by the way, this reminds me of the story about Hillel, remember? Shemaya and Avtalyon, when he couldn’t enter the study hall, so he climbed up in the snow above into the skylight. It’s the same issue. Meaning, people didn’t enter the study hall if they weren’t rich, well-connected, the kind of people who belonged to the relevant class—they didn’t enter the study hall. And that changed here. It’s part of the same revolution, this democratization. Rabbi Yohanan said: Abba Yosef ben Dostai and the Rabbis disagreed about it; one said four hundred benches were added, and one said seven hundred benches. Hundreds of benches were added to the study hall. Rabban Gamliel felt distressed. Rabban Gamliel saw this and suddenly stood before a mirror. Meaning, he saw how many people, how many Torah scholars, he had prevented from participating in the Torah discourse. He had not allowed them to enter the study hall, their views had not been heard. He was distressed because he understood his mistake—that’s the point. Then he said—think about it—you suddenly see thousands of people entering the study hall. All these people I didn’t let enter? You put a guard there, you don’t know what the guard is doing outside and whom he leaves out and whom he lets in. Suddenly you see everyone who is standing outside. Like the prince—the Happy Prince of Oscar Wilde, do you know that children’s story? The prince lived in a palace, he didn’t see all the poverty and misery around him. Yes, Oscar Wilde with all his tragedies. Then after he dies they make a tall statue and put it on some very high pedestal in the palace courtyard. And when he stands high up, a statue—that’s in literature—but the statue suddenly sees the whole city outside the walls. Then he suddenly sees all the miserable people and starts caring for them, sending them with the bird his gold and his precious stones and his eyes. Suddenly he sees everything that is happening outside the palace. You live inside the palace, you don’t see anything, everything is fine—you simply don’t let anyone enter. Suddenly you see all those coming in, and you see who remained outside. Rabban Gamliel was distressed because he suddenly understood what had happened here. He basically understood that they were right. He said: Heaven forbid, did I withhold Torah from Israel? They showed him in a dream white jugs full of ashes, but that was only to comfort him. Meaning, in the end they comforted him that it was okay—that was his approach. It was taught: Tractate Eduyot was taught on that day. Tractate Eduyot is a special tractate in the Talmud because it is a tractate without a subject. It’s a tractate where all kinds of people come and bring testimonies of what they heard from this rabbi and that rabbi, and there is give-and-take and they decide questions that are not connected to one another, not on the same topic. And all of Tractate Eduyot was taught on that day. Why? Because as long as Rabban Gamliel was there, then whatever others said that did not pass through his tradition was not on the table. There was no point in deciding who was right—I’m right, meaning that’s all. The moment Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah replaces him, everyone enters the study hall, other opinions are heard, and then—notice—we continue to deal with the phenomenon of dispute. How does Rabban Gamliel deal with it? Like Stalin. He says: Whoever disagrees with me stays outside. That’s it, no problem, we solved the dispute. Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah deals with the dispute differently. He says: Let’s bring them into the study hall, let’s debate, try to persuade one another, hear the reasons, vote, and make decisions. And until Rabban Gamliel was removed from office they could not decide the disputes. That’s how these houses were formed—they could not reach common ground; there was no dialogue. After Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah entered in his place, they succeeded in deciding all the disputes that had remained open until that time, and that is Tractate Eduyot. Tractate Eduyot is the tractate in which they decide all the disputes that remained open during the period of Rabban Gamliel. They relied on—what? Relied. But those testimonies are not testimonies from Sinai. They are testimonies about arguments. My rabbi said this, and I say this, and such arguments and such arguments, and in the end we decide. We are not clarifying historically or archaeologically which testimony is more reliable; rather, the testimonies bring the different positions into the study hall. And now there need to be testimonies because not all the people are alive, and there had been a long-standing approach that was not willing to accept the other opinion. So some of these things are our own opinions, some are testimonies about other opinions. Let’s bring everything, bring all the traditions, everything. Now is the time to clarify the matter because Rabban Gamliel is gone. Okay? Then the Talmud continues: And every place where we say “on that day,” that was that day. Every place in the Talmud where it says “on that day,” it was that day on which they removed Rabban Gamliel and put Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah in his place. And as I already said, it’s not a day of twenty-four hours; it means around that event, those events. And there was no Jewish law pending in the study hall that they did not explain. Suddenly they decided all the disputes. This reveals the root of the argument, of the intensity that was here. It’s not only about whether the evening prayer is optional. It’s not even an argument about manners or about proper treatment of a colleague. That’s not the point. The point is: how do we deal with the phenomenon of dispute? Rabban Gamliel’s method collapsed, and the sages there understood that if they kept letting him dominate the others, we were all finished. Nothing would remain of this. And therefore there was no choice—they did something very hard. He had been the teacher of all of them, and they simply removed him, because they said: this man will destroy us all. And it’s very hard to do such a thing. Therefore there was no legal issue that they did not explain. They closed every legal issue. How did they close them? What, suddenly the traditions became clarified? Did they bring archaeologists to check which tradition was authentic and which wasn’t? No. They closed it through give-and-take. But they closed it; things did not remain as disputes. Maybe some did remain, maybe some didn’t, I don’t know. But what needed to be closed, they closed, as I said earlier. And maybe there are things one need not close. And even Rabban Gamliel did not refrain from coming to the study hall for even one hour. Rabban Gamliel did not leave the study hall after they deposed him. He stayed there under the presidency of Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah and became a student. Meaning, Rabban Gamliel undergoes a process of repentance. He was distressed, he understood that he had erred, he acknowledges the opinion of his students, and he sits as one of the students, on the students’ benches, before Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah. As we learned: On that day Judah the Ammonite convert came before them in the study hall. He said to them: Am I permitted to enter the congregation? Rabban Gamliel said to him: You are forbidden to enter the congregation. “An Ammonite or a Moabite shall not enter the congregation of the Lord.” Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: You are permitted to enter the congregation. Now Rabbi Yehoshua is openly disagreeing with Rabban Gamliel; now Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah is the Nasi, okay? Rabban Gamliel said to him: But has it not already been stated, “An Ammonite or a Moabite shall not enter the congregation of the Lord”? Rabban Gamliel does not make him stand on his feet and drag him around—stand for thirty seconds, you delayed the building. He starts discussing with him, bringing proofs, verses, reasons. He accepted the rules of the game. Meaning, there is a dissenting opinion here. I still do not agree with what he says, but I am debating with him. I bring proofs, let’s see who is right. Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: But are Ammon and Moab still sitting in their place? Sennacherib king of Assyria already came and mixed up all the nations, as it is stated: “And I have removed the bounds of the peoples, and I have plundered their treasures, and I have brought down…” and so on. Whoever separates from the majority is assumed to have separated from the majority. In any case, he answered him on that basis. Rabban Gamliel said to him: But has it not already been stated: “And afterward I will restore the captivity of the children of Ammon”? So they have already returned. Rabbi Yehoshua said to him: But has it not already been stated: “And I will restore the captivity of My people Israel,” and they have not yet returned. Immediately they permitted him to enter the congregation. They accepted Rabbi Yehoshua’s opinion. That’s poetic justice. Meaning, even when there was an argument, it could still be that Rabban Gamliel was right in his reasoning and not in his arrogance. But here they accepted Rabbi Yehoshua’s opinion. Rabban Gamliel said: Since that is so, I will go and appease Rabbi Yehoshua. Rabban Gamliel continues his process of repentance. This is an amazing story in my eyes. I really—it’s an amazing story. It’s amazing drama. So he goes to appease Rabbi Yehoshua after everything he did to him. When he came to his house, he saw that the walls of his house were blackened. Again, think of the Happy Prince. He comes to his house and sees that the walls are black. Rabbi Yehoshua was a very poor man. He said to him: From the walls of your house one can tell that you are a charcoal maker. He worked with charcoal, made his living from it. He had no money. Rabban Gamliel is the Nasi, a man of means; he doesn’t see all those outside, how they live and what difficulties they have and all that. Just like the Happy Prince. He said to him: Woe to the generation whose leader you are, for you do not know the suffering of Torah scholars, how they make a living and how they are fed. You are the Nasi, you have plenty of money, you live properly, you are the son of a Nasi, it is an entire dynasty of leadership. You do not see how we live. Where are you? You live in a golden bubble. And you are not fit to be the Nasi, he says to him. Not only because of your attitude; you simply do not understand the public around you. Very harsh words. He said to him: I submit to you; forgive me. Fine, I accept it, I understand, I erred, I am repenting, forgive me. Why do you keep being angry? It seems he made him go through this path of suffering as part of the process of repentance. He did forgive him in the end, but he thought, yes, the person needs to go through the process of repentance to the end, and then I will forgive him—but not so fast. The man needs to understand the depth of the mistake, to internalize the depth of the mistake. He paid no attention to him. No, he didn’t agree to forgive him. Do it for the honor of my father, says Rabban Gamliel. I come from a dynasty of Nesi’im of the Sanhedrin. I have ancestral merit. Remember the ancestral merit that they feared Rabban Gamliel would use to punish someone who had no ancestral merit? Now Rabban Gamliel uses ancestral merit. There are many very interesting literary plays in this story. Rabban Gamliel asks, by ancestral merit, that Rabbi Yehoshua forgive him. Okay. He relented—on account of ancestral merit, not on your account. I forgive you because of ancestral merit, not because of you. But Rabbi Yehoshua insisted there; he didn’t give in so quickly. They said: Who will go and tell the Rabbis? Who will go tell the Rabbis that Rabbi Yehoshua has been appeased and everything is fine and peace has returned? One must remember: Rabbi Yehoshua was not the Nasi, but his standing among the sages was top-tier. Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua—those were the three elders. So there had been a dispute here between two of the greatest of the generation. You understand that the generation was split—this was an event, when Rabbi Yehoshua forgave Rabban Gamliel. They said to a certain launderer. The launderer said to them: I’ll go. Rabbi Yehoshua sent to the study hall: Let the one who wears the robe wear the robe, and let the one who does not wear the robe not say to the one who wears the robe, “Take off your robe and I will wear it.” Fine, never mind—in short, in the end, when Rabbi Yehoshua saw that he had been appeased, he went early to his door. They said: What shall we do now with Rabban Gamliel after he repented? After all, he really was a Torah scholar. They want to restore him to his place. But then what—shall we remove Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah? We already appointed him Nasi. What do we do? Rather, one would serve one Sabbath and one the next? That would arouse jealousy. So let Rabban Gamliel teach three Sabbaths and Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah one Sabbath. Still, Rabban Gamliel should have been the Nasi, despite the problems caused by his deposition. It is fitting that he teach three Sabbaths—one week, two weeks, three weeks—not week by week. And Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah one Sabbath. And this is what the master said: Whose Sabbath was it? It was Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah’s Sabbath. And ever since, throughout the Talmud, whenever they ask “Whose Sabbath was it?” the meaning is: whose week was it today in Yavneh? Who taught—Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah or Rabban Gamliel? Because they served there in rotation. And that student was Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai. What I mentioned earlier. The Talmud says in parentheses: Just so you should know, that troublemaker who made all the commotion was Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai. And it could be, by the way, that Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai did this in order to sharpen the point, in order ultimately to bring about what happened afterward. He did it not merely to cause trouble, but because he understood that they were giving in to Rabban Gamliel, and he wanted to bring the problem to the surface so that it would be solved, and not continue to be whitewashed. Now, against this background, it is interesting to see the story of the Oven of Akhnai. Again, we’ll do this briefly. There, they cut it into rings and put sand between each ring of the oven. There the question was the impurity of a segmented oven. Rabbi Eliezer declares it pure, and the sages declare it impure. Again, of course, Rabbi Eliezer and the sages—same period, same people, first generation of Yavneh. And this is the Oven of Akhnai. What is Akhnai? Rav Yehuda said in the name of Shmuel: They encircled it with words like this snake and declared it impure. It was taught: On that day—what is “on that day”? We already know, right? Every “on that day” was that day. That day is the day from the previous story, when they replaced Rabban Gamliel with Rabbi Yehoshua—well, with Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah; it’s the same story. This story too belongs to that same period, even though it does not say so explicitly anywhere, but it is quite clear, and the sages who appear are the same sages. It says “on that day.” It’s obvious that this is that. And let’s see that it really is exactly the same issue. It was taught: On that day Rabbi Eliezer answered them with every answer in the world, and they did not accept from him. He said to them: If the Jewish law accords with me, let this carob tree prove it. The carob tree was uprooted from its place one hundred cubits—and some say four hundred cubits. They said to him: One does not bring proof from a carob tree. In short, you brought signs and wonders from heaven—bring us arguments, don’t tell us stories about carob trees. He went back and said to them: If the Jewish law accords with me, let the water channel prove it. The water channel flowed backward. All the signs happened. They said to him: One does not bring proof from a water channel. He again said to them: If the Jewish law accords with me, let the walls of the study hall prove it. The walls of the study hall began to fall. Rabbi Yehoshua rebuked them and said to them: If Torah scholars are contending with one another in matters of Jewish law, what business do you have interfering? They did not fall because of the honor of Rabbi Yehoshua, and did not straighten because of the honor of Rabbi Eliezer. What does this actually mean? Rabbi Yehoshua says to them: Look, we are debating in the study hall about words of Torah. You are just lumps of stone. You have no role in the give-and-take. What is the argument? The same argument. Meaning, let us argue, he says to the walls of the study hall as a metaphor—let us argue; we are talking about proofs. I don’t care about water channels, carob trees, and walls. We are talking about proofs. If he persuades us, we’ll accept. But we don’t accept the water channel. Leave magic outside—bring arguments. Fine? And again, Rabbi Eliezer tried to prove that he is the man of authority, that his inward is like his outward, therefore he can enter Rabban Gamliel’s study hall, the greatest transmitter among the group. So he says to them: I am an authorized person; look, heaven testifies on my behalf. How can I—I do miracles for you, you see—how can one disagree with me? They say to him: You are right, you are completely righteous. But until you persuade us, we won’t accept. Because we are not speaking ad hominem, we are not speaking about the person, we are speaking about the issue itself. You see that this is exactly the same discussion as with Rabban Gamliel in the previous story. It is exactly the same thing. So it’s no wonder this happened on that day. “On that day” means, yes, within those same events. Then he again said to them: If the Jewish law accords with me, let Heaven prove it. You want a more direct proof? Not only magic and miracles—the Holy One, blessed be He, Himself will say it, not through agents and all kinds of powers. A heavenly voice came out and said: Why are you disputing with Rabbi Eliezer, for the Jewish law accords with him in every place? The Holy One, blessed be He, in His own glory, informs us from heaven. Rabbi Yehoshua stood on his feet and said: It is not in heaven. No use. Think what frustration this is. I mean, Rabbi Eliezer—what more can you say? You prove with signs and wonders that you are the most righteous, the most trustworthy. Heaven says the Jewish law accords with you, and your students—or led by your colleague Rabbi Yehoshua—do not accept it. No such thing. Bring us arguments. What powerful people, yes? Bring arguments. If you bring arguments, we’ll be persuaded, but don’t tell us miracle stories. What does “It is not in heaven” mean? Rabbi Yirmeya said: Since the Torah was already given at Mount Sinai, we do not heed a heavenly voice, for You have already written in the Torah at Mount Sinai: “After the majority to incline.” What does “You have already written” mean? Did Rabbi Eliezer write the Torah? God wrote it. They are arguing with the Holy One, blessed be He, not with Rabbi Eliezer. A heavenly voice comes out and says the Jewish law accords with Rabbi Eliezer, so the sages are not speaking to Rabbi Eliezer, they are speaking to the Holy One, blessed be He. You remain there. It is not in heaven. You wrote in the Torah at Mount Sinai, “After the majority to incline.” Why are You interfering now? You wrote “After the majority to incline.” We have arguments, we are debating. Rabbi Natan met Elijah and said to him: What did the Holy One, blessed be He, do at that time? He said to him: He smiled—He laughed—and said: My children have defeated Me, My children have defeated Me. Again, this is aggadah, not a historical account. But that aggadah comes to say: what is the meaning of the revolution that happened in Yavneh? What was the dispute about? What happened there? The dispute was over the fact that Torah is no longer God’s Torah; Torah has become the Torah of human beings. Therefore a heavenly voice comes out and the Holy One, blessed be He, says: I am telling you what the Jewish law is. And they say: You remain in heaven. The Torah is not the Torah of heaven; the Torah is the Torah of human beings. That’s it—the hollow conduit is over. And then the Holy One, blessed be He, says: My children have defeated Me, because the Holy One, blessed be He, as it were understands—meaning He confirms—that although the truth is with Him, not with them. The correct Jewish law is with Him. But once there is a dispute, you have to decide it with your own tools. Not with traditional tools, not with authoritative tools. That’s the point; that’s the meaning of the revolution, and that’s the stamp of approval. And again, they invented the heavenly voice and all these stories—why? In order to internalize this new ethos that says: It is not in heaven. This never happened, yes? That’s obvious. Rather, they invented this story in order to say this idea of “It is not in heaven.” This idea that says: We are not looking for what was said to Moses at Sinai. What was said to Moses at Sinai is already written in the Torah. From here onward, this is our interpretation with our reasoning, and we will debate until we are convinced or until we vote, “After the majority to incline.” They said: On that day—notice again, on that day, you see the parallel to the previous story—they brought all the pure things that Rabbi Eliezer had declared pure and burned them in fire. Completely parallel to all the testimonies they brought on that day, and they left nothing unresolved, yes? They burned all the pure things he had declared pure, because he had declared them pure by force of his authority, but they did not agree. They burned everything—no such thing, everything is impure. They ruled against him. And they blessed him—what does that mean, they blessed him? They excommunicated him, Rabbi Eliezer. Just as they removed Rabban Gamliel from office. You see, these stories are completely analogous around the same point. Same sages, same everything. Once you suddenly see it, you can’t miss it. It’s almost the same story. What were they to one another? And they said: Who will go and inform him? Now that’s not simple—who will go tell Rabbi Eliezer that he is excommunicated? His students too, his students are excommunicating him. Why do they excommunicate him? Well, he thinks differently from them. That’s not the point. They are not excommunicating him because he is wrong about the laws of impurity. They are excommunicating him because he does not accept the rules of the game. Because a person like that will destroy the Torah. And if he insists that he does not accept the new rules of the game, then excommunicate him—to the end. No compromises in this matter, just as they remove Rabban Gamliel from office. But still, he is the teacher of them all. Who will go inform him? Not simple. Rabbi Akiva said to them: I will go, lest an unfit person go and inform him and thereby destroy the whole world. Yes, Rabbi Eliezer’s spiritual intensity—he can turn water channels, uproot trees, tilt walls, bring down the walls of the study hall. This man will destroy the whole world. Exactly remember, just like with Rabban Gamliel, when they ask who will go tell him—only someone who has ancestral merit, because otherwise Rabban Gamliel would eliminate him. Fine, this story is exactly parallel. What did Rabbi Akiva do? He dressed in black and 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 from other days? Why did you suddenly come dressed in black and sit four cubits away from me? You’re excommunicated, yes, so he sits four cubits away—he may not come near him. He said to him: My teacher, it appears to me that your colleagues are keeping away from you. He told him gently, gently: you are under excommunication. Okay? Amazing, the force of the story. He too tore his garments and removed his shoes and slipped down and sat upon the ground. Rabbi Eliezer’s eyes shed tears. The world was struck: a third of the olives, a third of the wheat, and a third of the barley. Meaning what they feared really happened—he stood to destroy the world. Meaning a third of all produce dropped. Again, these are of course literary descriptions, but this means there was no simple crisis there. And some say even dough in a woman’s hand spoiled. It was taught: Great was the anger on that day—again “that day,” this is a recurring theme here—that every place upon which Rabbi Eliezer fixed his eyes was burned. It was terrible. And even Rabban Gamliel—notice who appears here again in the story—Rabban Gamliel, his brother-in-law, who went through the same process in the previous story. But what happened with Rabban Gamliel? Rabban Gamliel repented, understood that he had erred, returned in repentance, sat in the study hall, and rotated with Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah. Here their paths diverge. Rabbi Eliezer does not give in until the day of his death. He does not repent; he believes in his path. Therefore he remains under excommunication until the day of his death, as the Talmud says. Because he did not repent; he held fast and did not repent. Under excommunication, sorry. And even Rabban Gamliel was traveling in a ship, and a wave rose up to drown him. To drown him—et tu, Brute? Meaning, Rabban Gamliel, you too? You’re my brother-in-law, and you joined them as well? I’ll drown you. This is the same story; it obviously echoes the previous story. He was on a ship, and a wave rose over him. He said: It seems to me that this is only because of Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus. He stood on his feet and said: Master of the world, it is revealed and known before You that I did this not for my own honor and not for the honor of my father’s house, but for Your honor, so that disputes not multiply in Israel. Now here this can be read in two ways. Rabban Gamliel can be explaining here his first approach: so that disputes not multiply in Israel. I did not do this for honor-seeking, but rather in order to deal with the phenomenon of dispute. I erred, but my intention was good. I did not do it for honor. That’s one way to read it. Another way is to read it the opposite. I repented, joined the students of Rabbi Eliezer—well, joined the students against Rabbi Eliezer—and joined in the excommunication of Rabbi Eliezer too. But I did not do this for my own honor; I did it because I understood the mistake that the two of us had made together, and he would not agree to accept it. So I excommunicated him. I don’t know, you can interpret it this way or that way. The sea calmed from its rage, and then the Holy One, blessed be He, as it were saved Rabban Gamliel. Imma Shalom, the wife of Rabbi Eliezer, was Rabban Gamliel’s sister. The in-laws, yes. From that incident onward she would not let Rabbi Eliezer fall on his face. Yes, she wouldn’t let him say Tahanun, because otherwise he would do all kinds of not-good things there. That day was the New Moon, in short the whole business was surrounded by a certain fear of Rabbi Eliezer, who had been hurt by the matter. Now let’s move on, the Talmud in Chagigah. Turn to the next page. This Talmud in Chagigah is the same story, but from another angle. The Rabbis taught: It happened that Rabbi Yohanan ben Beroka and Rabbi Elazar ben Hasma, or Hasma, went to greet Rabbi Yehoshua in Peki’in. Notice the figures: Rabbi Yehoshua is in Peki’in, Rabbi Eliezer is in Lod. Rabbi Eliezer is excommunicated, and Rabbi Yehoshua sits in Peki’in and is of course the head of the party that won. So here the victorious party—its formal head is Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, but the elder of the victorious party, the leader of the rebellion—what does it mean? They come from Yavneh, where the Sanhedrin was. What was renewed there? What did Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah say? He wants to hear, wants some satisfaction. We installed Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah—tell me what Elazar ben Azariah said today. He sits in Peki’in, not in Yavneh. Okay? They come to visit him. He said to them: Tell me, what happened in the study hall today? What is going on in Yavneh now after we installed Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah? So the Talmud says: They said to him: We are your students and we drink from your waters. You tell us new things—do we need to innovate for you? We came to learn from you. He said to them: Even so, a study hall cannot be without novelty. What is this? Again, you need to understand the background. “A study hall cannot be without novelty” means: Friends, we won. There is room for innovations. Torah is not a hollow conduit. When a person innovates a new Torah idea, it becomes part of Torah. There is Torah of human beings. There is no Torah without innovation. So now students too can innovate to the teacher, not only the teacher to the student. After all, what is he saying there? That’s what we made the whole revolution for. So now you tell me that you want to hear me? I want to hear you. Because I want your opinions. I’m not merely transmitting Torah from Sinai to you; I am nourished by you too. Now we are all around the same table. Meaning, if you understand the background, then every word here reads differently. Okay? Then look at the next sentence. Whose Sabbath was it? Well, now you really can’t miss the connection to the previous two stories, right? In the previous story the Talmud said: Whose Sabbath was it? That’s what they say: Whose Sabbath was it? Around that discussion of Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah and Rabban Gamliel. So he asks the students: Whose Sabbath was it? Who taught the group in Yavneh? It was Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah’s Sabbath. Not Rabban Gamliel’s. It was Elazar ben Azariah, the younger one. And what was the aggadah about today? Leave the legal discussions—tell me what the aggadah was. Meaning, what homily did he say? They said to him: About the section of Hakhel. He taught us about the section of Hakhel. And what did he expound there? They answered him: “Assemble the people—the men and the women and the little ones.” If the men come to learn, the women come to hear, why do the little ones come? To give reward to those who bring them. Again, this is of course not incidental. Rather, what? Everyone comes to learn Torah. The little ones, the women—everyone. Rabban Gamliel’s policy is completely over—the policy that whoever is not inwardly like outwardly does not enter, whoever is not rich enough does not enter. Everyone enters. Men, women and little ones. This all revolves around that point. These are not just innocent little derashot. Now he said to them: You had a precious pearl and sought to deprive me of it? Come on, I’ve found more innovative derashot than that. What’s the great excitement? The excitement is not about the content of the derashah, but about its meaning. What? Ah, we really won. Meaning, so the study hall looks different. Everyone comes in. So this precious pearl you sought to deprive me of? And he further expounded—and now Rabbi Yehoshua answers them with a derashah of his own. They wanted to hear him, so come hear—now he tells them. And Rabbi Yehoshua further expounded? Yes, and further expounded. I think. Or maybe not actually, I don’t know. Truthfully you can understand it either way. Yes, this “further” maybe not. “You have affirmed the Lord today, and the Lord has affirmed you today.” The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: You have made Me a single entity in the world, and I will make you a single entity in the world. What does that mean? You have many opinions. Is that one Torah? The Holy One, blessed be He, says yes. I make you one entity in the world despite the many opinions. All around the same issue. Fine? “You have made Me a single entity in the world,” as it is written: “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.” “And I will make you a single entity in the world,” as it is said: “And who is like Your people Israel, one nation in the earth.” Again, the same story. And he too opened and expounded—now this is Rabbi Yehoshua. That previous one was probably still Rabbi Eliezer? No—never mind. Now from sheer excitement, notice what he says—same thing. When you see the background, you understand the whole story. Every word is in its place. “The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails well planted; masters of assemblies—they were given from one shepherd.” That’s the “single entity in the world,” yes? That all the opinions and all the parties and all that—it’s perfectly fine. Dispute is legitimate from the outset. That’s what Rabbi Yehoshua says. It’s not de facto recognition—there’s nothing to do, if you can’t beat them, join them. No. It’s from the outset. We are creating here an alternative conception from the outset. Not surrender to the spirit of the times. And that’s what he is expounding here now. He expounds the verse word by word. Why are the words of Torah compared to a goad? To tell you: just as this goad directs the cow to its furrows in order to bring life to the world, so too the words of Torah direct their learners from paths of death to paths of life. What does that mean? Torah from Sinai—that’s not the Torah we study. It directs us to produce our own fruit. That is the Torah we study. Just as the goad plows the ground, and the ground produces new fruit. Torah is not what was given to Moses at Sinai; what was given to Moses at Sinai is the infrastructure, the framework that enables us to make Torah grow anew. And again he continues and spells it out. He says: If a goad is movable, perhaps the words of Torah are movable? Therefore Scripture says “nails.” They are written as nails, planted like nails. If a nail diminishes and does not increase, perhaps the words of Torah diminish and do not increase? Therefore Scripture says “planted.” Just as 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 many assemblies and engage in Torah. These declare impure and these declare pure; these prohibit and these permit; these disqualify and these validate. Exactly, of course, the same theme, right? Lest a person say: How then can I learn Torah from now on? What do we do then? So there are two Torahs? That’s Rabban Gamliel, right? And therefore he fought against this. Scripture says: “They were all given from one shepherd.” The Holy One, blessed be He, made us one entity in the world—that’s what Elazar ben Azariah told you, and I am completing that point. All these different opinions that you hear, they were all given from one shepherd. This is one Torah. We engage in give-and-take, persuade one another, and in the end arrive at one conclusion or another. And everything is fine. One need not be alarmed by dispute. Dispute is only different faces of one Torah, different aspects of one Torah. One God gave them, one leader spoke them, from the mouth of the Lord of all deeds, blessed be He, as it is written: “And God spoke all these words.” So too you: make your ear like a funnel—and here is the new Yavnean methodology, yes? Make your ear like a funnel, and acquire for yourself an understanding heart to hear the words of those who declare impure and the words of those who declare pure, the words of those who prohibit and the words of those who permit. Remember who is speaking here: Rabbi Yehoshua. This is the same one whose words they would not let be heard with Rabban Gamliel. He says to him: incline your ear to hear the words of these and the words of those. Hear them all. You, Elazar ben Azariah, do not be like Stalin who deposed the tsar and became the tsar in his place. You went there so there would not be a tsar. You sit there so that we may hear everyone, not so that they hear you instead of Rabban Gamliel. The words of those who prohibit and the words of those who permit, the words of those who disqualify and the words of those who validate. In this language he said to them. Rabbi Yehoshua said to the two fellows who came from Yavneh: No generation is orphaned in which Elazar ben Azariah dwells. He was so happy that this had been absorbed and the conception had changed—the rebellion succeeded. And why didn’t they say it explicitly? Because of an incident that occurred. What incident? Listen, read carefully. As it was taught: It happened that Rabbi Yosei ben Dormaskit went to greet Rabbi Eliezer in Lod. Of course Rabbi Eliezer, not Rabbi Elazar—that’s a textual error. Of course not incidental, right? The first is Rabbi Yehoshua who sits in Peki’in, and the second is his counterpart Rabbi Eliezer who sits excommunicated in Lod. Okay, the same story that happened with Rabbi Yehoshua, when they came to him from Yavneh and he asked what happened there—the same story, its parallel, now happens in Lod. Rabbi Yosei ben Dormaskit comes to Rabbi Eliezer in Lod, and he asks him the same question: What new thing was there in the study hall today? And of course he asks it with irony and bitterness. So, let’s hear your innovations. There are no innovations, I know everything—no innovation will you tell me. Because Rabbi Eliezer is a traditionalist. Okay, now look. He said to me: They voted and concluded that Ammon and Moab tithe the poor man’s tithe in the Sabbatical year. There is a dispute in the Talmud, a legal dispute, whether in the land of Ammon and Moab one is obligated to tithe the poor man’s tithe in the Sabbatical year. He said to him—Yosei, Rabbi Eliezer says to his student Rabbi Yosei ben Dormaskit—stretch out your hands and receive your eyes. I’m going to blind you. Stretch out your hands; you have lost your eyes. He stretched out his hands and received his eyes—he blinded him in great anger. Rabbi Eliezer cried and said: “The secret of the Lord is for those who fear Him, and His covenant to make them know it.” Those people with their innovations in Yavneh—why didn’t they come ask me? I would have told them. They are pilpul-ing, these opinions and those opinions, reasons. I know everything. Let them ask me and I’ll tell them what the Jewish law is. “The secret of the Lord is for those who fear Him, and His covenant to make them know it.” I am one who fears the Holy One, blessed be He, just like all the proofs in the Oven of Akhnai. “And His covenant to make them know it”—the Torah is known to me, it was made known to me. I know everything. Let them ask me and I’ll tell them what the Jewish law is. Why are they pilpul-ing there? He said to him: Go tell them. Rabbi Eliezer says to Rabbi Yosei ben Dormaskit: Go back to those fellows in Yavneh and tell them: Don’t pay attention to your vote. You don’t need your vote, meaning a vote by majority, yes, where they count how many are on each side. Don’t worry—your vote happened to hit the truth. As if they are worried. After all, that’s their whole thesis—that they are not worried. The truth is the vote. That is the Jewish law. He says: Don’t worry about your vote. You happened to be right—well, not happened. Thus I received from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, who heard from his teacher and his teacher from his teacher. Notice, this does not appear here by chance. I am telling you that this is Torah I received in tradition. You are pilpul-ing, reinventing the wheel. The wheel is already with me. I received it from my teacher, and my teacher from his teacher. Rabbi Eliezer is the same one who never said a thing he had not heard from his teacher. A plastered cistern that does not lose a drop. He says to them: all his Torah is Torah of tradition. No need for your pilpul; it’s all with me. Just come ask. A law given to Moses at Sinai. And why on earth your pilpul about a law given to Moses at Sinai? Ammon and Moab tithe the poor man’s tithe in the Sabbatical year; forty-six cities when they came up from Egypt, and so on, of the first year, and so on. It was taught: After his mind was settled he said: May it be the will of God that Yosei’s eyes return to their place, and they returned. This is the antithesis to the story with Rabbi Yehoshua, because Rabbi Eliezer does not accept the revolution that occurred there until the end of his days. He sits excommunicated in Lod and does not accept it. And these two stories come to contrast Rabbi Yehoshua’s attitude toward what happened in Yavneh with Rabbi Eliezer’s attitude toward what happened in Yavneh. Because these are exactly the two opposing figures who created this dispute. This is not a story about whether Ammon and Moab tithe in the Sabbatical year, and not about being one entity in the world and all the derashot. That is not the point. The question is how you relate to a Torah of human beings. Is Torah God’s Torah, or is Torah human beings’ Torah? That is the discussion here. Rabbi Yehoshua says it belongs to human beings; Rabbi Eliezer says Torah belongs to the Holy One, blessed be He. And I received it from my teachers, who received it from their teachers, all the way back to Moses our teacher, a law given to Moses at Sinai. There is no Torah that is not a law given to Moses at Sinai according to Rabbi Eliezer. Understand, this is not “a law given to Moses at Sinai” by chance. There is nothing in Torah that is not a law given to Moses at Sinai. Nothing was created after Sinai. All we can do is pass Sinai onward. You see that every word here in this story is entirely understandable if we understand the background of everything happening here. Now, you can already see I’m getting to the end, but there are two stories in tractate Sanhedrin, in two places, describing the day of Rabbi Eliezer’s death. And when we get to the day of Rabbi Eliezer’s death, then the sages come to take leave of him on the day of his death. He had been under excommunication all the time, no one came to him. The man who holds all the Torah—no one comes to him. They are inventing everything by themselves in Yavneh, as we just saw. They come up on their own with things they could have asked him, and he would have told them the answer. But instead they argue, and one brings arguments and the other brings arguments, and votes and reasons—as if reinventing the wheel. Why? Because he is under excommunication. They don’t even ask him laws that he knows. He could have told them—nothing. He sits there excommunicated; no one comes to him. On the day of his death they come, on the day of his death they come to visit him and take leave of him. Again, two very powerful stories. Rabbi Akiva said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua: If two people gather cucumbers, one who gathers is exempt and one who gathers is liable. One who actually performs an act is liable; one who merely deceives the eyes is exempt. This is in the laws of sorcery. If you gather by sorcery, if you do tricks—if you only deceive the eyes you are exempt, and if you really do it then you are liable. And this Mishnah is interesting, because seemingly this is a dispute between Maimonides and other medieval authorities about whether sorcery has any reality at all. Maimonides says it doesn’t. Here it explicitly says it does. If you perform an act, then you are liable; if you merely deceive the eyes, you are exempt. It sounds like one can actually perform an act. By the way, the Vilna Gaon attacks Maimonides on this—at that same place, that one does not whisper over a scorpion bite on the Sabbath. The Vilna Gaon says very harsh things there about Maimonides: that the accursed philosophy misled him. Rabbi Akiva said—yes, Rabbi Akiva said in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua—this was said on that Mishnah. But did Rabbi Akiva learn it from Rabbi Yehoshua? Sorry? You bring this in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua? That’s not right. He learned it from Rabbi Eliezer, not from Rabbi Yehoshua. That’s what the Talmud asks. After all, the Mishnah brings it as Rabbi Akiva in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua. The Talmud asks: why? Rabbi Akiva said this in the name of Rabbi Eliezer, not in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua. How do I know? As it is taught: When Rabbi Eliezer fell ill, Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues entered to visit him, and he was sitting in his canopied bed, and they were sitting in his reception hall. The dimensions of the separation… We’ll continue. We’ll do a bit more of this next time too, and until the end of the prayer maybe we’ll just stop here, yes, you know, really.