Not in Heaven
Imagine yourself in the late 60’s. Not the 1960’s, the actual 60’s – the early Rabbinic period in ancient Israel.
There was an argument underway at the Beit Midrash. Rabbi Eliezer was pinned against all of his colleagues, trying to prove his point.
Rabbi Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument, but the sages did not accept any of them. Finally he said, “If the Law agrees with me, let this carob tree prove it!” Sure enough, the carob tree was uprooted and replanted 100 cubits away from its place.
Surely, this must convince the rabbis that the Law is in accordance with Rabbi Eliezer.
Only it did not. So he tried again.
“If the Law agrees with me, let the river prove it!” Sure enough, the flow of the river stopped, and then began moving backwards.
Surely, this must convince the rabbis that the Law is in accordance with Rabbi Eliezer.
Only it did not. “No proof can be brought from a river,” they told him. So he tried again.
“If the Law agrees with me, let the walls of this schoolhouse prove it!” Sure enough, the walls tilted as if to fall.
Surely, this must convince the rabbis that the Law is in accordance with Rabbi Eliezer.
Only it did not. As the walls tilted forward, Rabbi Joshua rebuked them. “When wise rabbis are engaged in a legal dispute, what right do you have to interfere?” In deference to Rabbi Joshua they did not fall. In deference the Rabbi Eliezer, they remained at a slant.
After all of this, Rabbi Eliezer had one final argument to pose to his colleagues. “If the Law agrees with me, let it be proved from heaven!” Sure enough, a divine voice cried out, “Why will you not listen to Rabbi Eliezer? In matters of Law, he is always correct.”
Surely, this must convince the rabbis that the Law is in accordance with Rabbi Eliezer. But once again, Rabbi Joshua stood up and protested, citing a statement from this morning’s parsha. “’Lo bashamayim hi! The Torah is not in heaven.’ We pay no attention to a divine voice, because long ago, at Mount Sinai, You wrote in the Torah, ‘After the majority, one must incline.’”
This was the end of the argument – Rabbi Joshua won it on behalf the group. It caused an irrevocable rift between Rabbi Eliezer and his peers. Indeed, following this incident, the other rabbis chose to excommunicate Rabbi Eliezer. It is taught that when word that he would be cut off from the community was given to him, he set forth his wrath. His anger led to a plague-like destruction of crops, the fermentation of dough, and violently stormy seas.
Perhaps many of you have heard this story before. It is a favorite of rabbis – we frequently cite it to highlight that interpretation of Torah and evolution of Jewish law is in the hands of each generation. There is a line of text that explains that God’s reaction to the argument was to cry out joyfully, “My children have defeated Me,” proud that the sages had used and interpreted text from Torah, even if it was to interpret Law differently than God had intended.
Of course, with any text, we can find multiple layers of interpretation, and even stumble upon new readings of our own. Rereading this narrative this week, I arrived at a different understanding of the text.
This story, as I mentioned, is relatively well know. What is less known, however, is what the argument was about. We hear Rabbi Eliezer’s passionate cries to suspend the laws of nature in order to show that God is in agreement with him. We hear Rabbi Joshua rebuke these miraculous occurrences. But what was the fight about?
I promise to give the answer to that question. But first, I’d like for you to think about this question in context of our place on the Jewish calendar. Tonight we will gather for Selichot, offering prayer of repentance in preparation for Rosh Hashanah, which is just four days away. At this time of year, we are asked to think about our lives, our actions, our relationships. Do we have relationships that are “shaky?” Are there situations when pettiness, pride, or whatever else has brought us to be hardheaded, to be more committed to the win than to the actual side of a battle we were engaged in? In places where we are at odds with another person, do we even know what we are fighting about?
It can be suggested that the story highlights the importance of sticking to your convictions, as Rabbi Eliezer did, even though all of his colleagues disagreed. It can also be suggested that the story is a proof text for the concept of “majority rules.” But for me, reading this story this week, as we approach Rosh Hashanah, I am forced to see it through a new lens. It is sad that Rabbi Eliezer felt that he had to resort to supernatural means to prove to his colleagues that he was right; it implies that he felt that they were not open to hearing his interpretation of the Law. It is sad that the rabbis chose to excommunicate a sage who disagreed with them. And it is sad that Rabbi Eliezer used destructive powers to take his rage out on the world. But what is most striking is to me is that I have taught this story time and time again, and even I had to double check the Talmud for the exact details of the article. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in the fight, we forget what the fight is about.
Here was the issue that divided them: Regarding an oven that was constructed out of separate clay coils, with sand placed between the coils, Rabbi Eliezer said that it was not susceptible to becoming impure while the rabbis argued that it was. The question boiled down to whether the sand served as a unifier or a divider of the coils. I won’t go into any further detail about the technicalities of this oven; I have enough trouble understanding my own appliances, I can’t begin to wrap my head around the appliances of antiquity. Perhaps to the rabbis this was a crucial question, and I don’t want to delegitimize the laws regarding the purity of objects. But to me, it seems like a rather small issue.
The stories that we have inherited about Rabbi Eliezer teach us that he was not permitted re-entrance into the community until he was on his deathbed. He was separated from his friends, students and teachers. In this season of teshuva, let us dedicate time for reflection, let us seek forgiveness from those who we may have harmed and strive to offer forgiveness to those who have wronged us, finding the strength to mend relationships.