Rabbi Joseph Telushkin

by When? Hillel: If Not Now

  In actuality, of course, there is grave guilt on both sides. That is why most people reject the common defense offered by war criminals, “I was only following orders,” and want to see these people punished. But they also want to see the officials who issued the immoral orders punished; in truth, most people see these officials as bearing even greater guilt, an attitude that corresponds to the position taken by Shammai.*

  Although we have already discussed the way in which the Shammaites’ interpretation of the injunction to be fruitful and multiply led them to ordain a preferred sex for one’s offspring, the same principle led them in another case to a ruling that seems to hold out more humanity than Hillel’s. The case occurs in the Mishnaic tractate Gittin and involves an instance that must have been rare even at the time of the Talmud:

  One who is half-slave and half-free [perhaps, Rashi conjectures, the slave was owned by two brothers who had inherited him from their father, and one of them had emancipated him] works one day for his master and one day for himself. These are the words of the School of Hillel. But the School of Shammai says: “You have benefited the master, but not the slave. For it is impossible for him to marry a slave woman, because half of him is already a free man, and it is impossible for him to marry a free woman because half of him is still a slave [such marriages were forbidden]. Shall he therefore never marry? But was not the world created only so that people be fruitful and increase, as it is written, ‘He [God] did not create the world to be desolate, He formed it to be inhabited’ (Isa. 45:18). Rather, because of tikkun olam we force his master to free him, and the slave writes a note obliging him to pay off the master for half his value. And the School of Hillel reversed itself to rule in accordance with the School of Shammai. (Mishnah Gittin 4:5)

  Several things are striking in this ruling. First, the School of Shammai’s concern for the well-being of the slave shows a more humanitarian inclination in this case than that shown by the School of Hillel. Second, the Shammaites root their legal ruling in tikkun olam, a category until now associated with Hillel’s legislative enactments (see chapter 5). Finally, the willingness of the Hillelites to change their ruling reminds us that at its best, the disputations between the two schools served as a system of mutual transformation. The Shammaites reached a humane solution on the basis of tikkun olam, the very principle their opponent Hillel had pioneered. The Hillelites, in turn, were persuaded by their own logic, filtered through the minds of their adversaries.

  The stereotypical image of Shammai—severe, humorless, stubborn, and obsessed with the letter of the law—tells a truth about him, but not a complete one. This man, whose disciples were concerned that the law not be interpreted as forbidding a slave from marrying and having a family or permitting a man to cast off his wife simply because he was displeased with her (see this page), had softer edges to him as well. It was perhaps his misfortune in life (and even more so in history) to be a foil for Hillel, the preeminent exemplar of halakhic humanism. Always being judged in comparison with Hillel could do damage to anyone’s good name. Which is why, perhaps, we find to this day many institutions and Jewish children named for Hillel, but I cannot think of a single institution named for Shammai.

  * Promising little also makes invitees less embarrassed to accept an invitation, as little hardship will be imposed on the host.

  * I think an innate sense of justice in most people assigns greater guilt to one who carries out an evil act for money than to one who does so when ordered by a superior in a position of authority. Thus, it is more difficult for a soldier to refuse a commanding officer’s order, even when immoral and illegal, than for a civilian to refuse a monetary offer to commit a crime.

  11

  Two Torahs:

  Deciding Between Hillel and Shammai

  The Talmud records only three actual disputes between Hillel and Shammai, and the issues involved, dealing with menstruating women, the dough offering, and the waters of the mikvah, or ritual bath, are quite technical in nature (Mishnah Eduyot 1:1–3).1

  And whose view triumphs in these disputes? Ironically, neither.

  But in the decades following Hillel’s and Shammai’s deaths, the disputes between their followers grew exponentially. In the Talmud’s words, “When the disciples of Shammai and Hillel who had insufficiently studied with them increased in number, disputes proliferated in Israel and the Torah became as two Torahs” (Sanhedrin 88b).

  Eventually, the legal disputes separating the schools expanded to 316. Talmud scholar Shmuel Safrai notes that there were large areas of Jewish law in which there was little disagreement between the two schools, including the laws concerning sacrifices, priestly service, the Sanhedrin, and the death penalty. But a plethora of disputes existed on issues involving prayers and blessings (see, for example, the differing views on how to understand the words from the Shema “when you lie down and when you rise up”; this page), agricultural regulations, Shabbat and holiday rituals, laws of purity, and laws concerning divorce (see this page).2 It is from the general thrust of the rulings on these issues that Shammai and the school named for him acquired the reputation for being stricter than Hillel and the School of Hillel. By and large, the reputation was deserved. For example, the School of Hillel declared an old sukkah valid for use, while the School of Shammai forbade it (Mishnah Sukkah 1:1). The School of Shammai forbade soaking [the ingredients of] ink and dry-stuffs on Friday unless there was time for them to be fully soaked before sundown, but the School of Hillel permitted it (Mishnah Shabbat 1:5).

  On the other hand, there is a tradition attributed to Rabbi Meir that there are twenty-four cases, and some argue more than twice as many, in which the rulings of the Shammaites are more lenient (see Jerusalem Talmud, Beitzah 1:3). One reason for the disagreements on the precise number of leniencies is that it is not always clear what constitutes strictness and what constitutes leniency. For example, in a society in which the right of divorce is vested solely in the hands of the husband, does permitting a husband to divorce a wife for any reason whatsoever, as does Hillel (Mishnah Gittin 9:10), reflect a lenient ruling of Hillel’s (it makes life easier for the dissatisfied husband)? Or is Shammai’s ruling, which allows divorce only for reasons of sexual impropriety, and therefore offers greater protection to the wife, the lenient one (this page)?*

  Some disputes between the two schools involve issues that seem arcane and technical, and most modern readers would find it hard to imagine these disputes evoking great passion and controversy. Professor Safrai discusses one such dispute: “According to the halacha, food does not become susceptible to defilement (tumah) unless it comes in contact with water. The expressions in Leviticus 11:34–38, ‘all meat … on which water comes’ and ‘if water be put upon the seed’ were interpreted to mean that only if water was put on the food and that by a willful [human] act and not by itself (rain, irrigation, etc.), does the food become susceptible to defilement by a source of impurity. The dispute between the two schools hinges on the status of, for example, fruit which was sprinkled with water by a willful act not intended to sprinkle that fruit—such as if one shakes water off a bundle of herbs—and it touches the fruit nearby. In such cases, the Shammaites declare that fruit susceptible, because the water reached it through a purposeful act. The Hillelites, however, extend the concept of intention to include not only the water but the fruit as well. The one who shook the bundle of herbs had no interest in the water touching the fruit, and thus it is declared not susceptible to impurity.”3*

  But a few of the schools’ disputes cover broad philosophical themes, none more so than the debate in Eruvin 13b, on whether it would have been better from humankind’s perspective for human beings never to have been created. The Hillelites, in line with their founder’s fundamentally optimistic nature (see this page), espoused the view that it is better for people to have been created, while the Shammaites argued the opposite. What is surprising is that when a vote was finally taken to resolve this issue, some of the Hillelites seem to have d
efected to the Shammaite position; thus, the majority of the sages concluded: “It is better for man not to have been created.” But unwilling to end so momentous a debate with so demoralizing a conclusion, the rabbis append, “But now that he has been created, let him examine his deeds.” In other words, arguing about whether or not it is better to have been created is ultimately a moot issue. All we can do is respond to the reality of our existence with righteous deeds, along the lines of the concluding verse of the generally pessimistic book of Ecclesiastes: “The end of the matter, when all is said and done: revere God and observe His commandments, for that is all of man” (Eccles. 12:13).

  Yet another philosophical and speculative debate between the schools centers on the question of the order of God’s creation. The School of Shammai insisted that the creation of heaven preceded that of earth, while the School of Hillel argued the reverse (Genesis Rabbah 1:15). According to Hillel, the earth, where humankind dwells, was created first, a viewpoint that underscores man’s centrality.4 Certainly it is of a piece with the religious humanism of Hillel’s response to the Gentile seeking conversion. He doesn’t start by speaking to the man about God, but instead tells him not to do to others what is hateful to him. Is this not to say, in a sense, that the earth comes first?

  The struggles between the two schools generally were civil. For instance, the Talmud records that despite differing views on marriage laws, the Shammaites did not refrain from marrying women of the School of Hillel, nor did the Hillelites refrain from marrying women of the School of Shammai. Rather, they treated each other “with affection and friendship” (Yevamot 14b says that they would inform one another of relationships that the other side would regard as problematic).* Similarly, a Mishnah in Ethics of the Fathers offers Hillel and Shammai as model intellectual combatants: “What is a dispute for the sake of Heaven? The disputes between Hillel and Shammai” (Ethics of the Fathers 5:17).5

  But, as is often the case with disputes that continue over many decades, there were less civil periods as well. Most likely, the increase in tension between the schools intensified during the period of the first revolt against Rome (66–70 C.E.). Or it could have begun earlier, as the citizens of Judea bridled under the increasingly harsh rule of Rome.* Anxiety about how to be a Jew in dark times is something modern Jews, as well as ancient Jews, have been intimately acquainted with. A sense of the increasingly negative—and during one period, violent—relationship between the schools is suggested in a dispute between Rabbi Eliezer, the greatest scholar produced by the Shammaites, and Rabbi Joshua ben Chananiah, one of the most distinguished proponents of the Hillelite ideology.

  In a ruling that sounds decidedly fair and just to modern ears, Rabbi Joshua taught that righteous non-Jews, like righteous Jews, have a share in the world to come (Tosefta Sanhedrin 13:2). Rabbi Eliezer ruled to the contrary, that Gentiles have no share in the world to come. Could there be a greater continuation of Hillel’s decision to teach the essence of Judaism to a Gentile? Maintaining this openness to righteous Gentiles—believing that good people, whether Jewish or not, share in God’s eternal rewards—during the darkness of the Roman occupation must have indeed required courage. And it must have seemed very wrong, like blasphemy, to many of those still mourning the destroyed Temple and the mass slaughter of the Jews of Jerusalem.

  On one tragic day, disciples of the School of Shammai attacked, and might even have killed, members of the School of Hillel (Jerusalem Talmud, Shabbat 1:4). Enough Hillelites were prevented from making it to the upper chamber of the home of Chananiah ben Chizkiyah ben Garon, where the sages were meeting that day, that the School of Shammai was able to achieve what it long craved, a majority (Mishnah Shabbat 1:4). They took advantage of the situation to push through eighteen regulations, several of which were intended to strengthen the separation between Jews and non-Jews.

  The Hillelites saw the day on which these decrees passed as “a day as grievous for Israel as the day on which the Golden Calf was made” (Jerusalem Talmud, Shabbat 1:4; see also Shabbat 17a).*

  We don’t know how long the Shammaites were able to maintain their dominance over the Hillelites, but we do know that the School of Hillel eventually regained its majority status—probably during the period following the failed revolt against the Romans and the destruction of the Temple.6 It was also during this period that one of the Talmud’s most famous stories concerning a heavenly voice (bat kol) takes place. In the words of the Talmud:

  For three years, there was a dispute between the School of Shammai and the School of Hillel, the former asserting, “The law (halakhah) is according to our view,” and the latter asserting, “The law is according to our view.” Then, a voice issued from heaven announcing, “Both these and these are the words of the living God, but the law is in agreement with the School of Hillel.”

  But [it was asked], since both are the words of the living God, for what reason was the School of Hillel entitled to have the law determined according to their ruling?

  Because they were kindly and humble, and because they studied their own rulings and those of the School of Shammai, and even mentioned the teachings of the School of Shammai before their own. (Eruvin 13b)

  Several important, infrequently commented upon, and still applicable lessons emerge from this passage:

  There isn’t necessarily only one way to perform a ritual act that’s acceptable to God. The disputes of Hillel and Shammai were largely about issues such as purity and impurity, and matters concerning blessings, issues for which you would think that there is only one right way. Nonetheless, the heavenly voice teaches: “The teachings of both are the words of the living God.”

  We should look for and seek to identify the “words of the living God” even in opinions with which we disagree. Rabbi Irwin Kula speaks of the need to identify “partial” truths in these instances. Such an ideology must have motivated the members of the School of Hillel. Why else would they have studied Shammai’s rulings, and even studied them first? Apparently, they wanted to study the reasonings of the other side. Humility also played a role in the educational agenda of each school. The Shammaites, who assumed, with a certain measure of arrogance, that they had nothing to learn from the School of Hillel, “wasted” no time studying their rulings. The more humble Hillelites did not assume that they possessed the full truth, and therefore considered opposing viewpoints. It was this that enabled them to acknowledge instances in which the Shammaite position made more sense. Humility is, therefore, not only an attractive personal attribute, it also leads to a greater grasp of the truth.

  The unwillingness of the Shammaites to study and consider the Hillelites’ views might explain why they later grew violent in their opposition to the School of Hillel. Associating only with like-minded people, reinforcing one another’s views without ever hearing a credible exposition of opposing views, might have caused them to think that those who thought differently from them were not only wrong, but evil. A contemporary upshot of this text is that we should not read only books and publications that agree with and reinforce what we already believe. Many people do so and never learn what those who disagree with them believe. As my friend the radio talk show commentator Dennis Prager likes to say, “One of the most important days in the life of a religious person is the day he meets a person of a different religion, or of a different denomination within his own religion, who is both a good person and intelligent.” After such an encounter, it becomes less easy to reflexively dismiss without consideration the arguments of the other side, or to construct superficial and unfair stereotypes of those who disagree with you. Perhaps that is why, fearing that distinctions would be blurred, the School of Shammai did not wish to study the arguments of the School of Hillel or have their students mix with people unlike themselves.

  If both sides are the words of the living God, why was one set of rulings chosen as binding? The reason would seem to be that Jewish laws aren’t intended only to bring their practitioners closer to God; they are also the law
s of a people, and for a people to be united, they need a unified law. (The reason why a green light signals “go” and a red light signals “stop” might or might not be arbitrary, but it is important for the safety of a people that one way is chosen and uniformly agreed upon.)

  In an essay examining the teachings of Hillel and Shammai, Elie Wiesel raises the question of why it took years until a heavenly voice intervened in the debate and made a ruling. I believe that perhaps the rabbis wanted to convey that a heavenly voice should be a last resort. The goal is for the two sides in a dispute to try to convince each other through argument, and by so doing to clarify and refine their views. Only when reason has failed do we turn to a heavenly voice.*

  And even then, we see that the heavenly voice does not speak in an authoritarian tone. Even as the heavenly voice comes to tell us that we should follow the rulings of Hillel, it also affirms that there is more than one path to truth.

  In point of fact, the whole issue of the intervening heavenly voice is a problematic one. Indeed, as well known as this story of the heavenly voice favoring Hillel over Shammai is, there is a second, even more famous story in the Talmud about another heavenly voice. And this other story reaches precisely the opposite conclusion. This story is told about the previously mentioned Shammaite scholar, Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, whose scholarship was recognized by Hillelite rabbis as well. The Talmud relates:

  On that day, Rabbi Eliezer put forward all the arguments in the world, but the Sages did not accept them. Finally, he said to them, “If the law is according to me, let that carob tree prove it.” He pointed to a nearby carob tree, which then moved from its place a hundred cubits, and some say, four hundred cubits.