Journal Watch

by Jerome A. Chanes

What, indeed, is the Talmud? The word itself derives from the root lamad, denoting a form of learning done by a student. But the Talmud is clearly much more than mere learning. As used in the text of the Talmud itself, the word is a term denoting discussion and analysis; indeed, it asserts to the studier — the student of the Talmud is never a casual reader — the shaping of a process. The constituent parts of the Talmud suggest the process: from the Mishna — from the Hebrew root meaning to study by assiduous repetition; to the Gemara — denoting the idea of a tradition of norms, ideas and analytical principles; to the analysis, indeed dialectic, that characterizes the Talmud as a whole.

What are the analytical tools used by the Talmud in its dialectical process? Catching Journal Watcher’s eye is Aviram Ravitsky’s “Talmudic Methodology and Aristotelian Logic: David ibn Bilia’s Commentary on the Thirteen Hermeneutic Principles” (The Jewish Quarterly Review, Spring 2009) that looks at the analytical approach of the Talmud from an unusual perspective.

At the very core of the methodology of the Talmud is the question of biblical exegesis as a vehicle for halachic analysis and legal decision making; and central to exegesis are the various “hermeneutic” (exegetical) norms that were developed over time and used by the rabbinic leadership in the Talmud. These norms were perceived as “the basic means by which the Oral tradition [that is, what ultimately emerged as the Talmud] was connected to the written [biblical text], or as basic tools by which new laws could be deduced from Scripture.”

The “Thirteen Principles (‘Midot’) of Rabbi Yishmael,” recited in the daily prayer, is the best known hermeneutic compilation, and Harvard’s Ravitsky notes that these were interpreted in a number of different contexts, primarily in commentaries on the Midrash and on treatises on Talmudic methodology. Ravitsky ingeniously demonstrates how medieval writers used the hermeneutic norms in combining philosophy (especially Aristotelian logic) and Jewish law. The analysis by medieval Jewish scholars of the use of hermeneutics suggests that the sages of the Talmud were not only experts in dialectics and law, but they were fine logicians as well.

Iran is very much on our minds in these difficult times. But a very different Iran — Persia under the Sasanian dynasty — was very much “with” the Talmud in its developing stages. We often forget that the “Babylonian” Talmud — the Talmud Bavli — developed east and north of Palestine/Judea and was forged in the cities of Persia. The Persian context of the Talmud needs to be explored. Such is the case in Shai Secunda’s intriguing “Talmudic Text and Iranian Context: On the Development of Two Talmudic Narratives” (AJS Review, 2009). Halachic hermeneutics are fine, but the obverse side of Talmudic narrative, its development, begs exploration.

Yale’s Secunda takes Journal Watcher on a fascinating journey through Sasanian civil law, Zoroastrianism, Eastern Christian writings, Manichean heresies and other non-rabbinic goodies, in order “to deepen our understanding of the Bavli and its place in the splendid confusion that was Sasanian Mesopotamian society” — all of which is a corrective for decades of scholarly neglect. Secunda uses two Talmudic narratives — both on ritual purity — to account for the differences in style and content between the Babylonian Talmud and its contemporary work, the Palestinian
(Jerusalem) Talmud. Secunda pays close attention to Iranian sources (including a wonderful excursion into Zoroastrianism) in accounting for the differences between daily life in Sasanian Mesopotamia and Roman Palestine/Judea, and in connecting the dots: how these differences are reflected in the development of the text. Yes, the difference in hermeneutic approaches is an important factor; but the social, cultural and religious background of “place” plays a central role.

Finally, a gem of an article, about a literal gem of a story: the “Jerusalem of Gold,” which became the symbol of national yearning and of the destruction and rebirth of Jerusalem.

In “’A City of Gold’: In Quest of Talmudic Reality” (Journal of Jewish Studies, Spring, 2009) Tel Hai Academic College’s Tziona Grossmark uses a well-known narrative as a vehicle to parse the structure of aggada — Talmudic texts recounting histories and biographies, stories and tales, legends, aphorisms, and other non-dialectic and non-halachic material. The aggada tells about the love between the poor Akiva and the daughter of a wealthy landowner, who disinherited his daughter. They married; thence Akiva, at the initiative of his wife who stayed home in poverty, left home for 24 years to study Torah. The narrative goes on to tell how Akiva became one of the most prominent rabbis of his time and every other — indeed, a halachic trailblazer — and returned home to his wife as a famous sage and a wealthy man.

During their time of poverty, Akiva had promised his wife a “Jerusalem of Gold”; when he became rich he had a splendid jewel or crown, “the city (or ‘Jerusalem’) of gold,” made for his wife.

Thus the moving story. Whilst not in the first instance about the Talmud and its methodology, this aggada tells us something about Talmudic tradition. The Talmud, unlike linear narratives and legal material, derives from a number of traditions and sources, sometimes consonant, sometimes dissonant and even cacophonous. In the case of our aggadic narrative, the story is known “from two parallel Babylonian [Talmud] traditions, with few differences, resulting apparently from the differing story context in each of the two tractates [in which they are found].”

Grossmark suggests that the story of Rabbi Akiva and his wife, and the wonderful love-gift, may not be historical but of a later origin. But the splendid jewel that Rabbi Akiva reportedly made for his wife was in fact a real piece of jewelry, well-known during the period of the Mishna (that is, in the time following the destruction of Jerusalem around 70 CE). Moreover, the Talmudic references are all in the context of the love story. Fact? Fiction? Can we reconcile the discrepancies? It matters not. What matters is that Akiva’s Jerusalem of Gold, transmuted in Talmudic lore, became the enduring symbol of “Jerusalem of Gold,” of endless love and yearning for Israel’s national and religious center.

Amor omnia vincit — love conquers all.

Jerome A. Chanes is the author of “A Dark Side of History: Antisemitism through the Ages” (ADL) and editor of “A Portrait of the American Jewish Community.”

Westchester Jewish Conference

Westchester’s Jewish Community Relations Organization