Dissent is at the Core of Judaism
Rabbi Tom Samuels
I remember years ago, when I was in my 20s, spending hours upon hours, frustratingly trying to decode the legal minutia of the 7th Century Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Bava Metzia: What happens when an honorary trustee accidentally comes upon a piece of lost property? What constitutes “comes upon?” What are his responsibilities? And what about a paid trustee? What are his obligations in the case of accidental damage?…
Just about to give-up and resign myself to a pending lost youth in seemingly irrelevant hair-splitting rhetoric, the text takes an unexpected turn. A debate is described that centers around whether or not the oven of a man named Achnai is considered to be ritually pure (the Laws of Kashrut are centuries away from being codified):
… Rabbi Eliezer declared that the oven is pure, while the other sages declared it impure. Rabbi Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but the Sages did not accept any of them. Finally, Rabbi Eliezer said: If the Halakhah (religious law) is in accordance with me, let this carob tree prove it!’ Sure enough the carob tree immediately uprooted itself and moved one hundred cubits, and some say 400 cubits, from its place. No proof can be brought from a carob tree, the other Sages retorted. And again, Rabbi Eliezer said: If the Halakhah agrees with me, let this channel of water prove it!’ Sure enough, the channel of water flowed backward. No proof can be brought from a channel of water, they rejoined. Again he urged, If the Halakhah agrees with me, let the walls of the house of study prove it! Sure enough, the walls tilted as if to fall. But the Sages rebuked the walls, saying, When disciples of the wise are engaged in a halakhic dispute, what right have you to interfere? Finally, Rabbi Eliezer then said to the Sages, If the Halakhah agrees with me, let it be proved from heaven. Sure enough, a Divine Voice cried out, Why do you dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, with whom the Halakhah always agrees? The Sages stood up, pointed to the Heavens, and protested: The Torah is not in Heaven!
And thus the debate is concluded and a foundational legal precedent established: that not even God, the Creator of the Law, has jurisdiction over the human, rabbinical court.
The text continues with an absolute affirmation that we humans have a right, nay, an obligation to think for ourselves. That debate, in it and of is itself, is an act of holiness! This is what God requires from humanity:
Years after, Rabbi Natan encountered Elijah the Prophet and said to him: What did the Holy One, Blessed be He, do at that time, when the Sages issued his declaration (that the God has no authority in the world of human jurisprudence)? Elijah said to him: The Holy One, Blessed be He, smiled and said: My children have triumphed over Me; My children have triumphed over Me.
The text continues. Rabbi Eliezer is harshly berated by the other Sages for having dissented from the majority opinion, and is excommunicated from the community. Rabbi Eliezer is devastated:
Rabbi Eliezer rent his garments and removed his shoes, as is the custom of an ostracized person, and he dropped from his seat and sat upon the ground.
A series of devastating natural calamities ensue, specifically, as pointed out in the Talmud, for the sages having excommunicated a colleague over a difference of opinion, and thereby denying his God-given right (and obligation) for dissent.
Rabbi Eliezer eyes shed tears, and as a result the entire world was afflicted: One-third of its olives were afflicted, and one-third of its wheat, and one-third of its barley. And some say that even dough kneaded in a woman’s hands spoiled…
This second part of the story, the denouements, is really a cautionary postscript about the consequences of myopic absolutism. (From Rabbi Barry Schwartz’s “Great Jewish Debates”) Of trying to stifle ideas that challenge extant assumptions. In fact, the Talmud is calling for the competition of ideas in a free, transparent public discourse.
The great mid-19th Century Talmudic scholar Rabbi Tzvi Berlin (AKA The Natziv) took this societal mission to foster a marketplace of ideas very seriously. He wrote extensively of how human beings must take ownership of our lives, and to do so through usurping the Torah from its Divine grasps. That God revealed both a Written Law by the God-hand, and an Oral Law by the hand of Moses, to the Children of Israel at Sinai. This was a parallel process whereby both Laws exist, the Divine and the human, in an ever-evolving, co-creative relationship:
The reason God ordered Moshe to carve the second tablets was not because they were not worthy of a Divine act but to teach that the ever-renewing power of Halakhah (Jewish Law) given in the second tablets involves the active participation of the labor of human beings who with Divine aid, just as the second tablets were carved by Moshe and the writing was by God.
We all aspire to receive the Torah in its purest form. The Talmud teaches us that to do so we must first challenge, even shatter, our assumptions. That the moment we become entrenched in any single ideology, ritual, practice, or myth, we need to return to Rabbi Eliezer’s teaching, that the Torah is indeed, Not in the Heavens. Rather, it is right here, on earth, amongst our struggle to find meaning and relevancy in our everyday messy, and thereby, beautiful humanity.
Rabbi Tom Samuels
I remember years ago, when I was in my 20s, spending hours upon hours, frustratingly trying to decode the legal minutia of the 7th Century Babylonian Talmud’s Tractate Bava Metzia: What happens when an honorary trustee accidentally comes upon a piece of lost property? What constitutes “comes upon?” What are his responsibilities? And what about a paid trustee? What are his obligations in the case of accidental damage?…
Just about to give-up and resign myself to a pending lost youth in seemingly irrelevant hair-splitting rhetoric, the text takes an unexpected turn. A debate is described that centers around whether or not the oven of a man named Achnai is considered to be ritually pure (the Laws of Kashrut are centuries away from being codified):
… Rabbi Eliezer declared that the oven is pure, while the other sages declared it impure. Rabbi Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but the Sages did not accept any of them. Finally, Rabbi Eliezer said: If the Halakhah (religious law) is in accordance with me, let this carob tree prove it!’ Sure enough the carob tree immediately uprooted itself and moved one hundred cubits, and some say 400 cubits, from its place. No proof can be brought from a carob tree, the other Sages retorted. And again, Rabbi Eliezer said: If the Halakhah agrees with me, let this channel of water prove it!’ Sure enough, the channel of water flowed backward. No proof can be brought from a channel of water, they rejoined. Again he urged, If the Halakhah agrees with me, let the walls of the house of study prove it! Sure enough, the walls tilted as if to fall. But the Sages rebuked the walls, saying, When disciples of the wise are engaged in a halakhic dispute, what right have you to interfere? Finally, Rabbi Eliezer then said to the Sages, If the Halakhah agrees with me, let it be proved from heaven. Sure enough, a Divine Voice cried out, Why do you dispute with Rabbi Eliezer, with whom the Halakhah always agrees? The Sages stood up, pointed to the Heavens, and protested: The Torah is not in Heaven!
And thus the debate is concluded and a foundational legal precedent established: that not even God, the Creator of the Law, has jurisdiction over the human, rabbinical court.
The text continues with an absolute affirmation that we humans have a right, nay, an obligation to think for ourselves. That debate, in it and of is itself, is an act of holiness! This is what God requires from humanity:
Years after, Rabbi Natan encountered Elijah the Prophet and said to him: What did the Holy One, Blessed be He, do at that time, when the Sages issued his declaration (that the God has no authority in the world of human jurisprudence)? Elijah said to him: The Holy One, Blessed be He, smiled and said: My children have triumphed over Me; My children have triumphed over Me.
The text continues. Rabbi Eliezer is harshly berated by the other Sages for having dissented from the majority opinion, and is excommunicated from the community. Rabbi Eliezer is devastated:
Rabbi Eliezer rent his garments and removed his shoes, as is the custom of an ostracized person, and he dropped from his seat and sat upon the ground.
A series of devastating natural calamities ensue, specifically, as pointed out in the Talmud, for the sages having excommunicated a colleague over a difference of opinion, and thereby denying his God-given right (and obligation) for dissent.
Rabbi Eliezer eyes shed tears, and as a result the entire world was afflicted: One-third of its olives were afflicted, and one-third of its wheat, and one-third of its barley. And some say that even dough kneaded in a woman’s hands spoiled…
This second part of the story, the denouements, is really a cautionary postscript about the consequences of myopic absolutism. (From Rabbi Barry Schwartz’s “Great Jewish Debates”) Of trying to stifle ideas that challenge extant assumptions. In fact, the Talmud is calling for the competition of ideas in a free, transparent public discourse.
The great mid-19th Century Talmudic scholar Rabbi Tzvi Berlin (AKA The Natziv) took this societal mission to foster a marketplace of ideas very seriously. He wrote extensively of how human beings must take ownership of our lives, and to do so through usurping the Torah from its Divine grasps. That God revealed both a Written Law by the God-hand, and an Oral Law by the hand of Moses, to the Children of Israel at Sinai. This was a parallel process whereby both Laws exist, the Divine and the human, in an ever-evolving, co-creative relationship:
The reason God ordered Moshe to carve the second tablets was not because they were not worthy of a Divine act but to teach that the ever-renewing power of Halakhah (Jewish Law) given in the second tablets involves the active participation of the labor of human beings who with Divine aid, just as the second tablets were carved by Moshe and the writing was by God.
We all aspire to receive the Torah in its purest form. The Talmud teaches us that to do so we must first challenge, even shatter, our assumptions. That the moment we become entrenched in any single ideology, ritual, practice, or myth, we need to return to Rabbi Eliezer’s teaching, that the Torah is indeed, Not in the Heavens. Rather, it is right here, on earth, amongst our struggle to find meaning and relevancy in our everyday messy, and thereby, beautiful humanity.