A new leader had now arisen in Israel, a man whose knowledge of the tradition was unparalleled, but who was willing to supplement the tradition with lessons derived from logic and with an awareness of and respect for the behavior of the people around him. This amalgamation of tradition, logic, and appreciation for the common man drew Hillel to new types of conclusions, some of which, as we shall see, still have the capacity, two thousand years later, to lead the Jewish people in new, potentially world-transforming, directions.
* This is the only known instance of forced conversion by Jews in power. The Idumeans presumably were descendants of the biblical nation of Edom.
* In both instances, Hillel seems to have been provoked by derogatory references made to his being a Babylonian. In the other instance he asked some men who were carrying wheat how much they charged for their work, and when he questioned their high price, they called him a “stupid Babylonian,” whereupon he called them “wretched fools.” Nonetheless, the text indicates that he then spent time with the men and reconciled (The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan, chap. 12).
3
“While Standing on One Foot”
Hillel’s willingness to run the risk of freezing to death is the story with which he enters Jewish consciousness. The story in which he defines Judaism’s essence to a non-Jewish questioner is the story that has kept him there ever since. It is the Talmud’s most famous story and one also known—unlike almost any other story in the Talmud—to many Christians:
There was [an] incident involving a Gentile who came before Shammai and said to him: “Convert me to Judaism on condition that you will teach me the entire Torah while I stand on one foot.” Shammai pushed the man away with the building rod he was holding. Undeterred, the man then came before Hillel with the same request. Hillel said to him, “That which is hateful unto you, do not do unto your neighbor. This is the whole Torah, all the rest is commentary. Now, go and study.” (Shabbat 31a)
Well-known as this story is, I find that it is generally related with one detail changed. The change occurs in how people usually begin the story: “A non-Jew asked Hillel to define Judaism’s essence while he [the non-Jew] was standing on one foot.” If that had been the non-Jew’s request, Hillel’s response would have been less surprising. People who present their religious teachings to outsiders often focus on their religion’s more humanistic and universalistic elements. But what the non-Jew asked of Hillel was more in the nature of a legal request, one requiring a legal response. He asked to be converted to Judaism on condition that Hillel define for him Judaism’s essence. In that context, what is striking is that Hillel does not speak to the man about belief in God or about the importance of observing the Sabbath and Jewish holidays, even though belief in God is Judaism’s core belief and the observance of Judaism’s ritual laws was one of Hillel’s central concerns.* He was, of course, a fully observant Jew. Nonetheless, when asked what is most basic for a non-Jew to know before he can convert, Hillel restricts himself to a description of Judaism’s ethical essence and then adds, “This is the whole Torah! All the rest is commentary! Now, go and study.”
The fact that Hillel is willing to offer so brief an explanation—fifteen words in the popularly spoken Aramaic—indicates that there is a central focus to his understanding of Judaism, one that provides him with a standard that later enables him to modify certain Torah laws in a manner that will shock other rabbis. Only if one understands Judaism as having an ethical essence can one conclude, as Hillel did on several occasions, that sometimes practicing the Torah literally can lead one to violate the Torah’s ethical will (for examples of this, see chapter 5).
Regarding the unusual question posed by the non-Jew, Talmud scholar Edward Gershfield speculates that the request was characteristic
of the Hellenistic intellectual. Many of the philosophical schools of the time strove to give clear and concise statements of their views. For some, especially the Stoics, clarity and simplicity were in themselves evidence of truth. Thus, as Hillel perceived, this speaker was speaking out of the context of the Gentile intellectual world. He was implying that if the Torah had something to say, it could be stated simply and clearly, and, if so, he wanted to hear it. If the message of the Torah could be understood only after much long-winded explanation, that in itself would argue against it being valid.1
Hillel’s response is in effect a negative formulation of the Torah’s most famous commandment, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” But why did Hillel not simply quote the Torah verse, which, in its evocation of “love,” certainly has a more upbeat quality to it? Why did he resort to a negative formulation?
Here we’re in the realm of conjecture. I suspect that Hillel wanted to offer his questioner a principle he could incorporate into his life immediately. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” if understood literally, makes demands of us that are sometimes unclear and that few of us are ready to satisfy. For example, does this law obligate you to share all your belongings with others? Maybe yes (the verse would seem to suggest that), maybe no (which is what I suspect most of us feel), but to declare this commandment without extensive explanation could easily confuse the listener. Similarly, you could argue that this verse would oblige us to mourn the death of an acquaintance with the same intensity with which we would mourn the death of a member of our immediate family. After all, if we are commanded to love others as we love ourselves, why wouldn’t we be commanded to mourn the loss of others as we would mourn the loss of those dearest to us?2
Hillel’s negative formulation, on the other hand, is much easier to incorporate into daily behavior. Before engaging in an act, we should ask ourselves, “How would I feel if that person treated me in the manner I am now preparing to treat him?” Or, “How would I feel if that person spoke about me in the manner I am now speaking about her?” Posing these questions to ourselves is within everyone’s capacity and, if our determination is strong, the answers yielded are not difficult to incorporate into our behavior.
My friend Dr. Isaac Herschkopf, a psychiatrist, argues: “Hillel may have been emulating God’s articulation of the Ten Commandments. Thus, God did not command us to be honest, truthful, and faithful. Rather, He commanded us, ‘Don’t steal,’ ‘Don’t bear false witness,’ ‘Don’t commit adultery.’ It may be less positive, but it is undeniably more effective.”
That Hillel was willing to convert the man to Judaism upon his acceptance of this principle shows that Hillel’s belief in ethics as Judaism’s central teaching was not rhetoric. He meant it.
What he also meant with equal passion—and this part of his message is often ignored—are his final words to the man, “Now, go and study.” Without study and a knowledge of Jewish holy texts, Judaism becomes literally contentless (the question “What does Judaism want me to do?” becomes unanswerable). That is why Hillel is so insistent on the importance of ongoing study. I often meet Jews who are passionately political, and given the political orientation of most American Jews, that means they are usually liberal, though a fervent minority are conservative. I ask such people if they ever find themselves studying Jewish texts that challenge their liberalism or conservatism. If they don’t—and few of them I find do—that means, in effect, that their real religion is liberalism or conservatism, with a smattering of biblical and Talmudic quotes cited to support whatever position they already believe.*
Zil g’mar, “Go and study,” are Hillel’s final words to the new convert and, in essence, to each of us. With the proper amount of study, when you try to decide how to behave, you will have more than good intentions upon which to rely, you will have a three-thousand-year-old body of teachings, arguments, and discussions from which to draw (for examples of such wisdom, see chapters 13–17). If you are willing to accept Hillel’s ethical summary statement and devote yourself to ongoing study, then, indeed, all the rest will be commentary.
Not a small amount of wisdom to communicate in fifteen words.
* If you examine the legal discus
sions in which Hillel is cited in the Mishnah, the Tosefta, and the Talmud, the primary focus is on ritual issues (see, for example, footnote 1 this page).
* In contrast, as Rabbi Irwin Kula notes, the Talmud records that Hillel’s disciples assiduously studied views with which they disagreed (see this page).
4
Hillel and the Three Converts
On the Bible and Conversion
The common perception that Judaism has no interest in non-Jews becoming Jewish is reinforced by the equally common perception that the Torah knows nothing of conversion to the Israelite religion. Both perceptions are wrong. Already in the time of the Torah there existed a mechanism by which foreigners could join the community: “You shall not abhor an Edomite for he is your kinsman.* You shall not abhor an Egyptian for you were a stranger in his land. Children born to them may be admitted into the congregation of the Lord in the third generation” (Deut. 23:8–9). This ruling presumably meant that after living among the Israelites for two generations, the grandchildren of Edomites and Egyptians could be admitted into the community.*
Later biblical books express an explicit desire for Jews to spread their teachings beyond the Jewish world. The prophet Isaiah (seventh century B.C.E.) foresees the day when non-Jews will say: “Come, let us go up to the Mount of the Lord, the House of the God of Jacob [i.e., the Temple in Jerusalem], that He may instruct us in His ways, and that we may walk in His paths. For Torah shall come forth from Zion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem” (Isa. 2:3–4). In Isaiah’s penultimate verse (Isa. 66:23), he speaks of a time when people throughout the world will observe the Sabbath and worship God.
The short biblical book of Ruth introduces for the first time a vivid description of a non-Hebrew accepting the Israelite religion and becoming a part of its people. Ruth, a Moabite, marries a man named Machlon who, during a famine, had left Israel with his parents and brother to live in the nearby nation of Moab. After Machlon’s early death, Ruth makes the decision to accompany her mother-in-law, Naomi, who has decided to return to Israel. Naomi repeatedly encourages Ruth to go back to her family (apparently, she is still a young woman who can marry again and start her life anew), but Ruth refuses to. Rather, she tells Naomi: “Your people shall be my people, your God shall be my God” (Ruth 1:16). “Your people shall be my people”—in other words, “I want to become part of the Israelite people”; “Your God shall be my God”—in other words, “I want to accept the Israelite religion.” Three thousand years after she spoke these words, this inseparable fusion of peoplehood and religion continues to distinguish Judaism from other faiths.
Ruth goes to Israel with Naomi and eventually marries Boaz, her late husband’s cousin. They have a son, Oved, whom the Bible records as the grandfather of King David (Ruth 4:21–22).1 Since the Jewish tradition teaches that the Messiah will descend from David, it follows that the Messiah will also be a direct descendant of Ruth. What a testament to Judaism’s high regard for people who join the Jewish community.2 And since the Talmud records that Hillel is a descendant of David (Jerusalem Talmud, Ta’anit 4:2), it follows that Hillel, too, traces his ancestry to Ruth, the Moabite woman who joined the Jewish people.
Today, when we hear of a non-Jew inquiring about becoming Jewish, we often assume that the non-Jew has forged a romantic connection with a Jew, and has perhaps been told that he or she must convert if a marriage is to take place. Alternatively, there are non-Jews whose initial motives for converting are from the beginning a direct response to Judaism. Such people may have been attracted through something they read, a lecture they heard, or perhaps through exposure to religiously committed Jews. Not infrequently, rabbis are approached today by non-Jews who have learned of a Jewish ancestor and are now interested in looking into their forebear’s religion.
The notion of non-Jews seeking out Judaism is not new.3 While there is not a great deal of material about converts in the Talmud, the rabbi who figures most prominently in the stories that are told about proselytes is Hillel; he appears in three such incidents. In all three, the non-Jews first approach Hillel’s contemporary, Shammai, from whom they receive a negative, hostile response. In the story cited in the previous chapter, Shammai lifts up a measuring rod he is holding (he is a builder) and drives the man off. Although this behavior was the height of incivility, I have some measure of sympathy for Shammai’s annoyance. Every writer knows what it means to be asked to condense into a single sentence a book he has worked on for years. How much worse to be pressed to distill the essence of an ancient tradition whose very essence may be that it has no essence but lives inside a complex, endlessly ramifying system of law and ritual, and that does not lend itself—at least in Shammai’s view—to a brief and highly condensed mission statement.4
It is of course to this very non-Jew that Hillel simply replies: “What is hateful unto you, do not do unto your neighbor. This is the whole Torah, all the rest is commentary. Now, go and study.” The non-Jew seems to accept this definition, and Hillel converts him. Does Hillel first spend months studying Jewish texts and laws with the man? If he does, the Talmud does not record this. Does Hillel first arrange to have a learned student brief the non-Jew on every detail of the laws of Sabbath observance and the dietary laws that comprise kashrut (two areas that remain the primary, but by no means exclusive, components of a religiously observant Jewish life)? Again, the Talmud does not tell us. What we are told is that he converts the man.*
Had this been the only instance of a non-Jew approaching Hillel for conversion, we might conclude that Hillel saw the ethical principle as so central a component of Judaism that he deemed any non-Jew who accepted this principle as worthy of immediate acceptance into the Jewish people.
But when we turn to the stories of the other two non-Jews who come to Hillel with requests for conversion, we see that they suggest very different conditions for becoming Jewish, ones that do not relate to any specific ethical principle, and that Hillel converts them speedily as well. We therefore learn something important. Hillel is so open to non-Jews becoming Jewish that when someone approaches him with an interest in Judaism, his inclination is to convert the person, or certainly to ease and speed the process for doing so.
In one of these stories, the non-Jew has the equal misfortune of first approaching Shammai. The man sets before Shammai an extremely irritating condition. In the words of the Talmud: “It once happened that a non-Jew came before Shammai and asked him: ‘How many Torahs do you Jews have?’ Shammai replied, ‘Two, the Written Torah and the Oral Torah [the rabbinic explanations of how Torah laws are practiced]. The non-Jew then said to him, ‘As for the Written Torah, I believe you, but concerning the Oral Torah, I don’t believe you [that it is the will of God, and therefore binding]. Convert me to Judaism on condition that you teach me only the Written Torah’ ” (Shabbat 31a). Shammai rebukes the man for his insolence and sends him on his way with an insult. A short time later, the man comes before Hillel, makes the same request, and Hillel converts him. Hillel then immediately sets about teaching the man the Hebrew alphabet, “Aleph, Bet, Gimmel, Daled,” and so on. The following day, Hillel reverses the names of the letters (calling an Aleph a Bet, for example) and the man protests, “But yesterday, didn’t you tell me the opposite?” Hillel replies: “If you rely upon me to recognize the letters of the alphabet, then rely on me also about the truth of the Oral Law.” In other words, if you’re depending on me to teach you the Torah, rely on me when I explain to you how the Torah is to be understood, and what constitutes Torah.
A few comments about this story: The Written Torah refers to the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, the books that are often called in English the Pentateuch.* Genesis, the first of these books, contains the stories of Adam and Eve; Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph; and Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. The final four books tell of Moses, the story of the Exodus, God’s revelation at Sinai and the Ten Commandments, and the forty years of wandering in the desert. Along the way, the Torah reveals what tradit
ion numbers as 613 commandments, the basis of all Jewish law. But alongside these written commandments, Judaism possesses an Oral Law (originally unwritten but later recorded in the Talmud). Traditional Jewish teachings—associated with the Second Temple–era sect known as the Pharisees—hold that many of these laws, explanations of how the Torah laws are to be fulfilled, date back to the revelation at Sinai. In other words, along with the written Torah, Moses was also instructed in an Oral Law. That some sort of Oral Law has existed from Judaism’s earliest times is self-evident, since the Torah cannot serve as a self-sufficient document. For example, in the opening paragraph of the Shema, the Israelites are instructed to “tie them as a sign upon your hand, and put them as totafot between your eyes.” The passage might be easy to understand if we had clear knowledge of what totafot are. But we don’t. The word is used several times in the Bible, but always in the same context, speaking of putting totafot between your eyes.
The Oral Law explains that the word refers to tefillin, the phylacteries that Jewish men are supposed to don weekday mornings, placing one on the foreheads between the eyes, and the other on one arm (“a sign upon your hand”).5 In short, some sort of Oral Law has always been necessary to explain passages in the Bible that would otherwise be inexplicable. For example, in Deuteronomy 12:21, Moses, speaking in God’s Name, tells the Israelites that if they wish to eat meat, “you may slaughter any of the cattle or sheep that the Lord gives you, as I have instructed you.” But we look in vain for any verses in the Torah with instructions about how to carry out the kosher slaughter of animals. Clearly, Moses is referring here to some sort of supplementary Oral Law through which these laws and procedures were transmitted.
Rabbi Joseph Telushkin Page 3
