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Oral Torah from Sinai by Michael Shelomo Bar-Ron Quotes

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This also negates the widespread, false notion that “God is everywhere, and in all things.” Consider how clearly the Bible negates this concept in the narrative of the prophet Elijah’s experience on Mt. Sinai:  And He said: ‘Go forth, and stand upon the mount before HaShem.’ And, behold, HaShem passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke apart the rocks before HaShem; but HaShem was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake; but HaShem was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire; but HaShem was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. (I Kings 19:11-12) 

Whoever rejects the Torah’s empowerment of the rabbis of the Great Court (Sanhedrin) to create and enforce rabbinical law —original, new decrees and ordinances to safeguard HaShem’s Laws and rectify the world— must contend with the fact that such additions, made in the presence of true biblical prophets, are boldly mentioned in the Bible. Consider the new, rabbinical holiday of Purim, which was established to remember the annulment of the genocidal decree of Haman, and Israel’s military victory over her enemies throughout the Persian Empire. It was added into the official biblical canon in the days of Mordecai by the Men of the Great Assembly in Jerusalem, an act mentioned at the end of the Scroll of Esther:  Therefore they called these days Purim, after the name of pur. Therefore because of all the words of this letter, and of that which they had seen concerning this matter, and that which had come upon them, the Jews ordained and took upon themselves and upon their seed, and upon all who had joined themselves to them, so it could not be transgressed, that they would keep these two days according to what was written about them, and according to their appointed time every year.  (Esther 9:26-27) 

Authentic Rabbinical decrees do not constitute unlawful “adding” to Torah Law, per Deut. 4:2 and 13:1. That prohibition can only mean not adding laws in God’s Name, as if HaShem Himself had Commanded thus. For the Great Court had the full right and responsibility to make its own original decrees and ordinances to safeguard the Torah’s laws, to preserve the nation, and mend the world. 

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Midrash, Oral Law, and the Question of Rabbinic Authority by Azzan Yadin-Israel

Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann, a late-nineteenth century scholar who first taught at and then directed the Berlin Rabbinic Seminary, played a noteworthy role in the study of the legal midrashim—that is, the early rabbinic commentaries on the laws of the Hebrew Bible. His foundational study of legal midrash opens with a discussion of the two forms in which tannaitic legal arguments were transmitted: apodictically (without reference to Scripture) and midrashically. In terms of the tannaitic sources, apodictic arguments predominate in the Mishnah and its companion the Tosefta, though these also contain midrashic passages. The systematic interpretation of the Torah is found in the legal midrashim, which are divided into the school of Rabbi Aqiva and the school of Rabbi Ishmael. This division, first proposed by Hoffmann himself, is based on differences in legal terminology, the names of the sages that appear in each, and interpretive principles. The Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael (to Exodus) and the Sifre Numbers make up one group, the Sifra (to Leviticus) and Sifre Deuteronomy make up the other; the former group is associated with Rabbi Ishmael, the latter with Rabbi Aqiva, whose circle also produced the Mishnah.2 The extent to which these works can be traced to a particular sage is a matter of controversy3 and in any case not relevant to my argument. The different interpretive patterns, terminology, and traditions that Hoffmann identified in the legal midrashim are meaningful regardless of their precise provenance.4 As far as the division between apodictic and midrashic legal statements is concerned, it is not surprising that Hoffmann first cites a ruling from the Mishnah, which is not linked to a biblical prooftext, then from the Sifra, the commentary to Leviticus: 

1. If a man slaughtered a quadruped and found therein an embryo, he whose appetite is robust may eat it . . . if the embryo emerged only partially, it is forbidden as food. (m. Ḥul. 4.7) 

2. “Any that has hoofs, with clefts, and that chews its cud from among the quadrupeds—it may you eat” (Lev 11:3): “[It] may you eat,” to include the embryo. Might it be that this is the case even if it emerges only partially? Scripture teaches, saying “it.” (Sifra Shemini pereq 3.1, Weiss 48b)

No law is really binding on the Jew unless it can be shown to have its origin in the Bible. Midrashic form continued to exist, therefore, even after the change to Mishnaic form. It existed in the laws that are found only in the Midreshei Halakhah (that is, those not found in the Mishnah), and it existed concomitantly in the laws that are found in both the Midreshei Halakhah and the Mishnah. For the latter, Midrash served as the ground, the justification, the life support. Indeed, one may legitimately wonder whether the Mishnah would have survived at all were it not for the parallel existence of Midreshei Halakhah.

Though many readers may find this view quite plausible, it entails two critical difficulties. The first is that the Mishnah does present itself in these terms. To the contrary, the Mishnah enunciates a clear, non-scriptural model of authority, most famously in the opening of tractate Avot: 

Moshe received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Yehoshua, and Yehoshua to the Elders, and the Elders to the Prophets, and the Prophets transmitted it to the Men of the Great Assembly. (m. Avot 1.1)

More important than any one ideological affirmation is the integration of extra-scriptural tradition into the discursive practices of the Mishnah. This is evident when, for example, shama‘nu and lo’ shama‘nu [“we have heard” and “we have not heard”] refer to having received/not received a legal tradition from one’s master, or in the use of the root q-b-l to refer regularly (but not exclusively8 ) to the reception of legal traditions, as in this example: Nahum the Scribe said: I have received a tradition [mequbbal ᵓani] from Rabbi Measha, who received [qibbel] from his father, who received [qibbel] from the pairs, who received [qibblu] from the prophets as a halakhah given to Moses at Sinai, that if a man sowed his field with two kinds of wheat. (m. Peah 2.6)9 This then is one challenge to Halivni’s position. If the Mishnah were merely an anthology of legal decisions culled from rabbinic midrash, it would not need to anchor its teachings in an extra-scriptural model of rabbinic authority. It would not, in other words, present the rabbis as heirs to what would later come to be known as the Oral Torah, often identified as constitutive of rabbinic Judaism itself.10 The second difficulty involves the Sifra’s interpretation of the phrase “it may you eat” in Leviticus 11:3, which draws the permission to eat an embryo from the phrase “may you eat” and the prohibition on eating a partially emerged embryo from the pronoun “it.” Let us begin with the plain sense of the verse—namely, the determination that animals with cleft hooves that chew their cud are edible: “Any that has hoofs, with clefts, and that chews its cud from among the quadrupeds—it may you eat.” Though the Sifra does not make this claim explicitly, the starting point of its interpretation is the arguably marked syntax of the verse, which first describes the animal and then concludes with “it may you eat” [תאכלו אתה[. The Sifra does not state explicitly what it finds unusual about the phrase, only that it is a warrant to midrashically augment the verse. The interpretive logic of this move is familiar from early rabbinic midrash: an anomaly in the verse elicits a rabbinic response. What is puzzling is the legal content that the Sifra adduces: “‘[It] may you eat,’ to include the embryo”—that is, the phrase indicates that it is permitted to consume the embryo of the animal being slaughtered. But the Sifra does not link the embryo to the language of Leviticus 11:3, or of any other verse for that matter, so there is no direct scriptural justification for this specific conclusion. Why does the phrase “it may you eat” sanction the inclusion of the embryo rather than any other element not specified in the verse? This is not clear. The disengagement from Scripture is more pronounced in the argument’s next step, where the pronoun “it” [אתה [anchors the ruling that if the embryo has partially emerged from its mother’s body, it is prohibited. Again, the Sifra does not provide guidance as to what it finds remarkable about the pronoun. Perhaps the issue is that the meaning of the verse remains intact without the pronoun, or maybe it is the fact that direct object pronouns can be expressed in Hebrew either as an independent word [תאכלו אתה [or as a pronominal suffix to the verb [תאכלוה[. Or perhaps it is another issue; the Sifra is silent on the question. Irrespective, the real difficulty is the legal decision the pronoun is made to bear regarding the partially birthed embryo. For on what grounds can the phrase “it may you eat” be divided into its constitutive elements, “it” on one side and “may you eat” on the other, each made the basis for a different type of legal argument: “may you eat” expands the scope of the biblical verse to include the embryo, while “it” qualifies the expansion by excluding the partially emerged embryo? Returning to Halivni’s statement, it is not clear to what extent we can say that the law in question, even when the Sifra presents it as a midrash to Leviticus 11:3, is “shown to have its origin in the Bible.” 

 

Rather than clarify the question of the dual presentation of rabbinic law—midrashic and extra-scriptural—the discussion to this point has complicated it. If Mishnah states that it is permitted to consume an embryo except in the case that it is partially emerged, why does the Sifra anchor the same rulings in such a problematic and perplexing discussion of Leviticus 11:3? A possible clue involves the fierce debate within late antique Jewish sources regarding the relationship between scriptural interpretation and received tradition. I state at the outset that I know of no sources that reject the authority of the Torah. The dispute hinges on whether Scripture is the sole source of Jewish legal authority or whether an extra-scriptural chain of tradition represents a second, independent source of authority. In Book 13 of the Antiquities of the Jews, Josephus refers briefly to one of the differences between the Pharisees and the Sadducees:

 
What I would now explain is this, that the Pharisees have delivered to the people a great many observances by succession from their fathers, which are not written in the laws of Moses; and for that reason it is that the Sadducees reject them, and say that we are to esteem those observances to be obligatory which are in the written word, but are not to observe what are derived from the tradition of our forefathers. And concerning these things it is that great disputes and differences have arisen among them. (Ant. 13.10.6 §297) 

One group unequivocally situated on the sola scriptura side is the Qumran community, whose writings reflect a single-minded commitment to scriptural authority. Part of this commitment is evident in the way Torah study is legislated into the very fabric of the community:
 
And in the place in which the Ten assemble there should never be missing a man to interpret the torah day and night, always, one relieving another. And the Many shall be on watch together for a third of each night of the year in order to read the book, explain the regulation, and bless together. (1QS 6.6–8)
 
Beyond the communal engagement of Scripture, Torah study plays an important role in the Scrolls’ historiographic writings, as when Israel’s failure to uphold God’s
covenant is linked to the fact that “David had not read the sealed book of the torah which was in the ark, for it had not been opened in Israel since the day of the death of Eleazar and of Joshua” (CD 5.2–4). The betrayal of Torah attributed to David and the generations that followed was ongoing, as we see in the Rule of the Community’s demand that new members of the Qumran community “revert to the Torah of Moses” (1QS 5.7–10), the implication being that Scripture had yet to regain its rightful place as the chief and indeed sole source of authority.12 This implication becomes explicit in the Scrolls’ repeated attacks on dorshe ḥalaqot, “those looking for easy interpretations” (see, e.g., Pesher Nahum 2.7 and the Damascus Document 1.18–19). Joseph Baumgarten was the first to suggest that dorshe ḥalaqot is a polemic play on dorshe halakhot, those who seek after (or: who interpret) extra-scriptural traditions, a position that has been widely accepted.13 If so, the commitment to Torah in the Dead Sea Scrolls is framed in opposition to those who acknowledge the legitimacy of halachot, received traditions. The last late antique Jewish source I will cite is the New Testament, where we find an interesting division between the synoptic gospels, on the one hand, and Paul’s epistles, on the other. The former contains a number of explicit attacks on the authority of received tradition [paradosis]. For example, when the Pharisees and scribes criticize Jesus for allowing his disciples to contravene “the traditions of the elders” by eating with unwashed hands, he condemns them as hypocrites who “abandon the commandment of God and hold to [krateō] human tradition” (Mark 7:8; parallel at Matt 15:2).14 Paul’s epistles, in contrast, regularly employ the language of tradition and its transmission and regular recourse to the terminology of transmitted tradition: “For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received” (1 Cor 15:3), “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you” (1 Cor 11:23). Paul praises his followers for their fidelity to the traditions “because you have been mindful of me in everything and are holding to the traditions, just as I passed them on to you” (1 Cor 11:2). Elsewhere, he urges them to “stand firm and hold fast [krateite]15 to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by our letter” (2 Thess 2:15).16 Each of these sources merits, and has generated, separate analysis. In the present context, however, I put them forward in the service of a broad claim—namely, that the relationship between Scripture and received tradition was hotly debated in the first century CE, a debate that serves as a backdrop to the early rabbis.
 
TANNAITIC SOURCES
 
Modern scholarly attempts to come to grips with the presentation of early rabbinic law as both midrash and received tradition have generally gone one of two routes: categorical affirmation of one mode over the other or a diachronic survey that accords primacy first to one mode and then to the other. We have already encountered an example of the former in David Weiss Halivni’s claim that “no law is really binding on the Jew” if it is not scriptural; a diametrically opposed position is staked out by Isaac Halevy, who asserts that extra-scriptural tradition enjoyed absolute and unquestioned dominance in Second Temple and post-70 Judaism. Though formulated in less extreme terms, other scholars also accord clear priority to one mode of authorization. Hanoch Albeck presents the Oral Law as merely an explication of the written Torah rather than an independent source of legal authority; David Zvi Hoffmann, in contrast, claims that “the sages use interpretation only as a means for ex post facto support” for received traditions “or to provide a firmer foundation, or to preserve them lest they be forgotten,” and this view is echoed by J. N. Epstein, who writes that “scriptural prooftexts are provided for halakhah, one does not derive or innovate legal traditions on the basis of Scripture.”
 
The second, diachronic route posits a shift within rabbinic culture, generally from a midrashic approach (considered to be the earlier) to extra-scriptural authority. The important point for the present discussion is that all these scholars assume that rabbinic sources speak with a single voice. Though some accounts represent these sources as constant and others as varying over time, neither allows for internal dissent or debate. I consider this approach a fundamental error and argue that tannaitic sources are internally divided on this question. Further, these divisions correspond in the main to the distinction between the schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva. The first point to make in this regard is that the two authorizing models do not lend themselves to easy harmonization—for one, because they are associated with different ideal types, in the Weberian sense of the word. Authority anchored in midrash assumes literacy and a thorough familiarity with the biblical text; scholarly genealogy plays no role. The master of extra-scriptural tradition, in contrast, claims authority by virtue of his status as a disciple of a recognized master and therefore as an authorized recipient of extra-scriptural halachot. He is part of a scholarly genealogy that traces back to Moses (a counterpart to the priesthood’s biological genealogy that reaches back to Aaron) but need not be a skilled interpreter of Scripture, or even for that matter literate.
 
The Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva midrashim clearly differ in this regard. The Rabbi Ishmael sources, which champion a thoroughly midrashic or textualist position, never cite extra-scriptural dicta “in the name of ” [משום [a sage, nor do they cite “testimonies” [עדויות[,” decrees” [גזרות[,” words of the scribes” [סופרים דברי[, or “words of the sages” [חכמים דברי[, all of which appear in both the Mishnah and in certain parts of the Sifra. Rabbi Ishmael, moreover, never recognizes another sage as his master—there is no tannaitic statement identifying his teacher, an impossible situation for a scholar whose authority derives from oral tradition. Indeed, a derashah cited in the name of Rabbi Ishmael radically delimits the scope and currency of extra-scriptural traditions [halachot]:
 
“You shall take an awl” (Deut 15:17): This was the source of Rabbi Ishmael’s saying: In three places extra-scriptural tradition (halakhah) circumvents Scripture: the Torah says: “He shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth” (Lev 17:13) while the halakhah says: “With anything that grows plants”; the Torah says: “He writes her a document of divorce” (Deut 24:1) while the halakhah says: “[He may write] on anything that was separated from the ground”; the Torah says “With an awl.” (Sifre Deuteronomy §122)
 
As I have argued at length elsewhere, this derashah indicates that there are only three extra-scriptural traditions that circumvent Scripture, which is tantamount to asserting that there are only three traditions that stand as an independent source of legal authority. By limiting the number of independent traditions to three, the derashah radically marginalizes the role of this source of authority, acknowledging its legitimacy in only a bare minimum of instances. In the rabbinic sources associated with Rabbi Akiva, in contrast, we find numerous references to the priority of extra-scriptural traditions over scriptural interpretation. In one Sifra passage, the phrase “a bull of the flock” [literally: “a bull the son of the flock,” בקר בן פר [in Leviticus 4:4 is explained as a three-year-old bull “in keeping with the words of the sages.” The implication is that the Torah is to be interpreted in light of rabbinic dicta. This principle is presented as a sine qua non for proper interpretation in the Sifra’s discussion of the status of contaminating mold in Leviticus 13, specifically the instruction that when mold appears on a fabric, the material must be burned. Anonymous sages ask Rabbi Eliezer what is to be done if the affection appears on only one stripe of the fabric, and he replies: “I have heard no tradition about this.” Since there is no received teaching on this matter, another rabbi, Judah ben Batirah, indicates he will examine the question, and Rabbi Eliezer cautions: “If in order to sustain the words of the sages—yes.” After Rabbi Judah offers an argument, Rabbi Eliezer responds: “You are a great sage, for you sustained the words of the sages.” Agreement with received tradition is, then, the explicit criterion by which Rabbi Judah ben Batirah’s argument is assessed. Rabbi Judah ben Batirah’s argument is not midrashic, but there are passages in which scriptural interpretation is presented as ancillary support for extra-scriptural traditions, as in this exchange between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon from Mishnah Ohalot:
 
Any movable object conveys impurity if it is as thick as an ox-goad. Rabbi Tarfon said: “May I lose my sons if this is not a perverted tradition which the hearer heard wrongly: when a husbandman passed by [a tomb] with the ox-goad over his shoulder and the one end of it overshadowed the tomb, they declare him impure by virtue of the law of the vessels which overshadow a corpse.” Rabbi Akiva said: “I will amend [this oral tradition] so that the words of the Sages shall be sustained. Any movable object conveys uncleanness to him that carries the object if it is as thick as an ox-goad; and the object conveys the uncleanness to itself whatsoever its thickness, but to other men and vessels only if it is one handbreadth wide.” (m. ’Ohalot 16.1)
 

Rabbinic law recognizes a category known as “tent impurity” or “canopy impurity,” which occurs when there is an overhang directly above an impure object that “captures” the object’s impurity and transmits it to anyone within the enclosure. The Mishnah begins with an anonymous statement regarding the minimum size for a movable object to convey such impurity. Rabbi Tarfon disputes the legitimacy of this tradition, arguing that it was perverted—misremembered or misunderstood—in the course of its transmission. Rather, the correct ruling refers to the ox-goad, but only in assessing its breadth, insofar as a herdsman who carries one over his shoulder creates a canopy of sorts and is thus susceptible to the impurity of a tomb by which he passes. There are, then, two competing oral traditions that refer to the ox-goad, and Rabbi Tarfon believes his is correct, while the anonymous statement is a corruption (“the hearer heard wrong”). Faced with this apparent deadlock, Rabbi Akiva seeks to “amend [this halakhah] so that the words of the sages shall be sustained,” by proposing a third legal statement that incorporates elements of both the anonymous ruling and Rabbi Tarfon’s tradition—another indication of the status of received traditions in some tannaitic sources.

Perhaps the most telling statement concerning the topic under discussion is from Rabbi Yehoshua, one of Rabbi Akiva’s rabbinic masters. Leviticus 11:33 states that everything in an earthenware vessel becomes impure if a dead animal falls into it, but Rabbi Akiva midrashically interprets “shall be impure” as “shall transmit impurity.” According to Leviticus, if a dead animal falls into a vessel, the vessel becomes impure with first-level impurity, and a loaf in the vessel contracts second-level impurity. Rabbi Akiva interprets Leviticus 11:33 as indicating that the second-level impure loaf then transmits third-level impurity if it comes in contact with another loaf. Upon hearing this interpretation, Rabbi Yehoshua said: “Who will uncover the dust from your eyes, Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai, for you used to say that a future generation will declare the third-level loaf pure since it is not scriptural [she-lo’ min ha-torah]—but your disciple Rabbi Akiva adduced a scriptural prooftext for its impurity, as it is written ‘everything inside it shall be impure.’”

 
In other words, Rabbi Yehoshua invokes his deceased master, Rabbi Yohanan Ben Zakkai, recalling his fear that the received tradition concerning the transmission of third-level impurity would be forgotten since “it is not scriptural.” But now, Rabbi Yehoshua continues, Rabbi Akiva has anchored the ruling in Scripture, meaning it will be maintained by future generations. Nota bene: third-level impurity was known and accepted in Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai’s time even though it is not scriptural; Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai’s concern was that future generations might not abide by the ruling in light of its non-scriptural nature. In other words, the Sifra lauds Rabbi Akiva as a great interpreter insofar as he is able to support extra-scriptural traditions midrashically.
 
Taken together, these sources indicate that scholarship has failed to appreciate that tannaitic sources are fundamentally divided on the status of extra-scriptural traditions, though this division has been obscured by the ascendancy of midrashic authority, so much so that it has become axiomatic to think of the rabbis as interpreters of Scripture. This shift is already evident in, inter alia, Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai’s fear lest “a future generation will declare the third level loaf pure since it is not scriptural.” I want to emphasize that he is not concerned that the adherents of oral tradition will waver in their commitment to the ruling, only that “a future generation” will require a midrashic argument. Even to champions of extra-scriptural authority, it was clear that this approach was under threat from a shift toward scriptural interpretation as the dominant and perhaps exclusive religious authority.
 
That this shift did in fact take place is evident from the Babylonian Talmud’s propensity for citing tannaitic legal traditions—then asking mena hanei milei? [“whence do we learn these matters?”] and identifying a biblical verse as the putative source for the tannaitic dictum. From a legal-traditional point of view, the Talmud’s question is nonsensical. How can you cite the legal teaching of, say, Rabbi Meir, and then ask, “Whence do we know this?” For the Mishnah, the answer is self-evident—it is a legal teaching transmitted by Rabbi Meir. There may be conflicting traditions or questions regarding the fidelity of transmission, but the authority of the tradition as such does not require (nor does the Mishnah generally provide) biblical support. To assume otherwise—to search for underlying scriptural justification—is to deny implicitly the independent authority of the received dictum and of the broader oral-traditional claims that undergird it. The casual self-evidence with which those Bavli passages set out to uncover the scriptural basis of tannaitic teachings bespeaks a fundamentally scripturalist assumption. Why such an assumption takes root and what effects it has on the internal dynamics of rabbinic law—these are both important questions. For the present, however, I have sought only to demonstrate that even the mechanisms buttressing rabbinic authority were in fact sites of dissent.
 
 
 
Published by Greenspoon, Leonard J. Authority and Dissent in Jewish Life. Purdue University Press, 2020. Project MUSE. muse.jhu.edu/book/77425.  Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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