Rabbi Akiba midrashim 158-168

The midrash about Rabbi Akiba is so rich its hard to know quite where to begin.IN this section is one of the most famous midrashim - about the four who go to paradise, buthtat one requires so much exposition just to get to the beginning, I think I'll skip it for now. Maybe I'll come back to it later.
So let's look at one tiny midrash... our masters taught that Rabbi Akiba gave seven charges to his son:
What is the content of these seven things that he thought his son should know. Don't live and study in the business district of a city. Commentators say that this is so that noise won't disturb your study - this is possible since the rabbis were wont to study in the marketplace, but then why warn against living there? I think that actually he may have had something else in mind, which is not simply that studying in the business district will disturb his son's study, but rather that he's warning his son not to absorb the transactional nature of the marketplace too much. Don't make it a habit to be around places where everything is for sale, because you will come to view every action as a transaction.
I think that this is borne out by the remainder of his advice : don't enter your own - or anyone else's- house unexpectedly- that is, don't forget to be polite - announce yourself and don't barge in, not even to your own family. Be practical - don't neglect your health by not eating properly or skipping shoes, know that people go through periods of good fortune and that they can help you when they do, so don't make enemies of them, and not final in the list, but final here - work on shabbat rather than take charity - this last is quite astonishing - violate shabbat rather than take charity!
From the turn of the last century to about the middle of it, this was often the case with Jews in the US. Immigrants, often ran their stores on shabbat or were obliged to keep working lest they lose their jobs. It was, of course, the liberal movements who chose to look the other way and make allowance for this. Many people got into the habit (and unfortunately many still are in the habit) of doing business on shabbat, of working, shopping, using money. My own movement wrote tshuvot to deal with this and gave over the leniency. When I read this, I started considering exactly how that fit into our tradition- it's aggadic material, certainly, not halakhic, and but clearly Rabbi Akiva felt that circumstances sometimes required such action. And yet, giving permission as a movement, has not served the Jewish people well. The drift away from shabbat observance in the home and the shul, the lack of distancing oneself from the world from one day of the week (or at least the distancing oneself from the business world)has made of us a people who, I think, are vulnerable to Madoff's and ethical lapses, because in refusing to ever walk away from money, we come to believe that money is most important - even when we can afford to spend a day less not buying, not selling. Perhaps this is the real reason rabbi Akiba didn't want his son to live too near the marketplace - even if he was obliged to work to avoid charity, he shouldn't come to believe that all life is the marketplace, and that there is nothing else, but rather, he should spend shabbat knowing that when he walks away from the market at last, there is another world out there, one in which the human is not primary,a nd over which we do not have power or sway.

2:11:98 - More on the oven of Akhnai

(Sorry this is so belated.)

The halachic dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and the chachamim (sages) that kicks off the famous story of the oven of Akhnai is often painted as "They were having a dispute about some obscure point in halacha", without regard to the substance of the dispute, but if we look more closely at what they were arguing about, it provides a mirror for the rest of the story.

An object that has the status of keli (human-made vessel/tool/utensil) and meets certain other requirements is mekabeil tum'ah (susceptible to receive ritual impurity). In the context of the mishnah (Kelim 5:10) that records the dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and the chachamim, "tamei" (ritually impure) means "mekabeil tum'ah / having the capacity to become tamei", and "tahor" means "lacking the capacity to become tamei".

In general, a clay oven is mekabeil tum'ah. If it is broken into pieces, it is no longer mekabeil tum'ah. In the oven of Akhnai, the pieces have been put back together, with sand in between. Rabbi Eliezer holds that putting the pieces together has no effect -- it's still just a bunch of oven fragments, and retains the corresponding status. The chachamim hold that putting the pieces together changes its status into a keli.

In other words, the chachamim believe that human tikkun/takanah (repair/legislation) has the power to alter the fundamental reality of the world, and Rabbi Eliezer believes that it doesn't. This is the background to their dispute about whether to listen to a bat kol (divine voice) or to a human majority vote.

It's All Good

Today we read the story of Nachum "Ish Gamzo," a sort of Tannaitic Candide. His nickname comes from his slogan, "Gam zo letovah," "This also is for the good," which is his customary response to misfortune and misery. I had conflicting responses to his philosophy as presented in these aggadot. On the one hand, I was very interested in the fact that the Jews pick him to bring their gift to Caesar because "melumad b'nisim hu": "he was accustomed to miracles" or "miracles always happened to him" (as Braude has it). This struck me as perhaps a statement with some psychological truth. For a guy who sees everything as positive, who is able to see the best in every situation, many experiences must seem like miracles. It's not necessarily that miracles actually happen to Nachum more often, but rather that since he has the ultimate faith that everything happens for the best, he sees miracles in situations in which others would see only suffering. In one sense, this seems like a great idea-- have an optimistic attitude, and you'll experience the miracles of life more fully.
There's another side to Nachum's perspective, though, and it is more problematic for me. In the first aggadah, Nachum relates to his disciples the story of how he became crippled, and they say, "Woe unto us that we see you in such a state!" He responds, "Greater woe unto me if you did not see me in such a state." Presumably, his response reflects his belief that he would have to suffer for his sin in the world to come unless he suffers in this life. He is happier to have brought his suffering on himself now rather than having to sacrifice his place in the next world. Nachum's optimism is predicated upon an idea of cosmic justice that valorizes suffering and asserts that suffering can be a positive end in itself. While I can imagine that this outlook might help victims of suffering to bear their fates, it could also be used to justify passive acceptance of suffering. Especially for those of us who don't necessarily believe that divine justice will eventually be meted out fairly in a way human beings can comprehend (either before or after death), this approach is difficult to swallow. Any opinions about whether "gam zo letovah" is best understood as a helpful way of seeing the best in the world or a dangerous rationalization of suffering?

Sefer Ha-Bloggadah: week 27

This week we move into the third generation of tannaim (rabbis of the Mishnah), and one tanna stands out in particular.

• Monday - 2:1:126-127 (Nahum the Man of Gamzo)
• Tuesday - 2:1:128-138 (R. Tarfon)
• Wednesday - 2:1:139-146 (R. Akiva)
• Thursday - 2:1:147-157 (R. Akiva)
• Friday - 2:1:158-168 (R. Akiva)
• Saturday/Sunday - 2:1:169-173 (R. Akiva)

2:11:87-103 R' Eliezer b. Hyrcanus

Unlike Howard, I found the stories of R' Eliezer b. Hyrcanus compelling. He leaves an affluent, even wealthy father who has no sympathy with his desire to study Torah, and he devotes himself to study even though he does not have enough money to feed himself. He goes hungry and hides his plight from the other members of the yeshiva community. (This is reminiscent of the story of Hillel endangering his life by listening at the yeshiva skylight when he lacks the money to participate directly.)

The attribute of study in which he excels is his retention of what he's learned. He's the "plastered cistern that loses not a drop" (text 84), and he is extraordinarily reluctant to state any halacha that he has not learned from his predecessors (texts 92-93). This is a difficult attribute for us, as we are more inclined to value creativity than massive memory. (Indeed, the tradition seems biased in the direction of creativity also -- see the comparison of R' Eliezer with R' Elazar b. Arach in chapter 2 of Avot, at about mishnayot 10-12.) But even we should be able to acknowledge the value of the retentive memory, and of the dedication to his teachers. (What's puzzling in the texts is that R' Eliezer himself is described as giving a highly creative drash in the presence of his father -- he said things that none of his listeners had ever heard before. Was his creativity purely the aggadic realm, and, if not, how do we reconcile this creativity with the halachic hesitancy described in texts 92-93?)

Yes, he's impatient with those who are less dedicated to study (text 94), but Hillel himself, usually thought of as the model of patience and forebearance, had a highly demanding side -- see most of the mishnayot about Hillel in Avot ch. 1-2.

Then there's the story of Akhnai's oven and its aftermath (text 98). R' Eliezer's ruling is endorsed by all of the miraculous signs, and by the bat kol, which is understood as God's own ruling. Yet the other sages all reject his position. In other words, he is, objectively, absolutely, right, but no one listens to him. The rejection of his position on this particular issue of ritual purity/impurity (tahor - tamei) is so through that the Sages then declare ritually impure (tamei) everything that he has previously ruled pure (tahor). Further, they excommunicate him. In his excommunication, God Himself continues to be on R' Eliezer's side -- that's why the crops are struck, wherever R' Eliezer glances is burnt, and even Rabban Gamliel has to rebuke the waves that threaten his boat. How can there not be pathos in the story of the person who's right, but is ignored and rejected?

When he takes sick, his students visit him, but they have to maintain their 4-cubit distance because of his excommunication (text 102). When R' Akiva says (text 101) that sufferings are dear (to God), we sense that the story is endorsing this view, and we must be moved even if we're uncomfortable with this theology. At R' Eliezer's death, he cries that he had so much Torah to teach and did not have the opportunity to do so, and this anguish evokes our pathos. That pathos is also evoked by the anguish of R' Akiva, who mourns him with Elisha's words upon the departure of Elijah.

True, his strength was in an area that is less in favor in our time. But the stories here are profoundly saddening, by showing us someone who was loved, but who was right and was rejected.

R. Joshua ben Hananiah

What was the incident with the little boy? I was once on a journey when I noticed a little boy sitting at a crossroads. I asked him, "My son, by what road do we go to the town?" "This one," he replied, "is short but long, and that one is long but short." I proceeded along the "short but long" road. When I approached the town, I discovered that [the road became a dead end] because gardens and orchards blocked access to the town. I turned back and said to him, "My son, did you not tell me that this road was short?" He replied, "Did I not also tell you, 'But long'?" I kissed him on his head and said to him, "Happy are you, O Israel, for all of you, from the oldest to the youngest among you, are wise."

I am confused by this story. What is the point? A wise person would have answered the question civilly by saying this road goes there but it is long. This road leads to a dead end. Yet the boy is praised. Why?
Also , it raises questions about R. Joshua ben Hananiah. Why doesn't he ask for an explanation of the conundrum? He was willing to ask directions but not willing to admit he didn't understand a response.

R. Eliezer [the Elder] ben Hyrcanus

I am not sure I understand the purpose of many of these stories. I must admit, I came to dislike Rabbi Eliezer more and more as I read them. He seemed like a self centered know-it-all. He insults people freely and beyond what is needed. He represents the worst in contemporary Haredi thought, he is against all change. He claims to only teach what he learned from his teachers. But he had G!d's ear and was very influential. Rabbi Akiva who went far beyond his teachers in developing creative interpretations shows him total respect in these stories. Yet Eliezer is excommunicated and Akiva is the one to tell him at least partly out of fear.

I wonder if the writers of these stories are trying to capture his influence to give the impression that their changes were not really changes but came from his teachings and were very old.

At least Bialek and Ravnitsky didn't hide the nasty ending of the Aknai's oven story the way many modern writers do.