Al Reguel Ajat

Since the establishment of the State of Israel, three new dates have been added to the Jewish calendar. The first is Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day, which is preceded by Yom Hazikaron, the day that commemorates fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism. The third is Yom Yerushalayim, the day that celebrates the unification of Jerusalem in 1967. All three are observed as national holidays in Israel and recognized worldwide by the majority of the Jewish people.

The national holiday nature of Yom Ha’atzmaut is clear, and the way it is celebrated, especially in Israel, is similar to how any country celebrates its national holiday. But from a religious perspective, for many Jews, the creation of the Jewish state is an event of epic proportions, which should be celebrated as a holiday on par with Passover, Sukkot, or Rosh Hashanah. In Israel’s early years, the rabbinate decided that this day should be commemorated in the synagogue by reciting the Hallel (Psalms of praise) and reading a special haftarah, a text taken from one of the Bible’s books of the prophets. But for the religious Zionist movement in Israel, this was not enough, and they created a special prayer book (machzor) to celebrate Independence Day. Later, the prayer «Al Hanisim,» «For miracles,» said on Purim and Hanukkah, was included in the day’s liturgy. For its part, the Masorti (Conservative) movement integrated Yom Ha’atzmaut into its religious commemorations and published a Haggadah designed to bring the celebration into the home. The Reform movement, in 1970, reaffirmed that: «Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel’s Independence Day, is a permanent holiday in our religious calendar.»

But it is not a holiday for everyone. For some Jews, generally ultra-Orthodox, the creation of Israel is not a central moment in modern Jewish history, and they do not celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut. Some even view its creation as a sin, since the Jewish people did not wait for the Messiah to bring them back to the Land of Israel. On the other hand, the secular population in Israel celebrates it with outings and excursions, conferences, family education programs, and forums for dialogue.

Esti Moskovitz-Kalman tells us: “Jewish holidays and celebrations allow us to instill and enrich Jewish memory and values ​​through collective experiences. These experiences are collective, as many symbolic actions are carried out in public, whether at home or in the community, and are global and coincidental, as they take place all over the world at the same time.” Professor Moskovitz comments that every celebration has a central theme, and for her, Yom Ha’atzmaut celebrates what Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem, says: «Lihiyot Am Jofshi b’Artzenu,» meaning to be a free people in our land.

There are many ways to celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut, and the way will depend on what the date represents for each of us. But rather than worrying about how to celebrate it, we must remember why.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Robbie Gringras and Esti Moskovitz-Kalman: «Chag Ha’atzmaut, Blueprints for the Jewish Festival of Independence» and other sources.

On June 19, 1947, David Ben-Gurion, chairman of the executive branch of the Jewish Agency, wrote to the ultra-Orthodox group Agudat Israel, promising them four things: first, that Shabbat would be the official day of rest of the future Jewish State; second, that all kitchens in official institutions of the Jewish State would be kosher according to the halachic rules of Orthodox Judaism; third, that all matters related to marriage and divorce for the Jewish population of the state would be governed by the rabbinical courts (for other groups, by their respective religious authorities); and fourth, that there would be complete autonomy in educational matters for all the different social and religious groups.

Several factors prompted Ben-Gurion to write the letter. The first was to present a united front on the Jewish side before the United Nations Special Committee on Palestine (UNSCOP). Ben-Gurion was afraid that ultra-Orthodox groups would express their opposition to the establishment of an independent Jewish state to UN envoys.

The second was that it was the prevailing custom in the country. Under Ottoman rule, religious courts had the authority to decide on personal matters, such as marriage or divorce. The British Mandate adopted the same Turkish system, and in 1948 the Israeli government decided to maintain it. The reasoning was that if civil marriage or divorce were adopted, the rabbinical courts would not accept it, and the children of such marriages would be discriminated against by the rabbinate.

Another factor that shaped the relationship between the government and the religious establishment was the fact that after the Holocaust, all the major centers of Jewish learning in Europe, the yeshivots, had been destroyed, and Ben-Gurion set out to revive them. In Israel, in 1948, there were only 400 ultra-Orthodox men left, so he exempted them from military service and work, as the government would support them so they could dedicate themselves fully to Torah study. Ben-Gurion and many like him believed that, despite these concessions, this group would not survive.

Israel never proclaimed a constitution that would enshrine all of this in law or, if necessary, repeal it. What they call the «status quo» in Israel (maintaining the same state of affairs) long gave these policies a binding force and has been one of the causes of the divisions within the Jewish people, especially among Israelis.

Ben-Gurion had serious clashes with ultra-religious groups. He once wrote to Rabbi Judah L. Maimon, who was Israel’s first minister of religious affairs, about what for Ben-Gurion defined being Jewish: Psalm 15. Psalm 15 defines one who «dwells in the Tabernacle of the Lord as an individual who is righteous, speaks the truth, does not slander or do any other evil to his neighbor, does not reproach his neighbor, despises a vile person, fears the Lord, testifies sincerely even if it pains him to do so, does not lend money for interest or take bribes from the innocent.» And Ben-Gurion asked, «Why should someone who observes Shabbat and Kashruth be considered Jewish, but someone who lives according to the Psalmist’s definition not?»

Deep down, Ben-Gurion understood that the vast majority of the Jewish people define their Judaism as both a nationality and a religion. Personally, he would have liked it to be defined solely as a nation, but that wasn’t possible. That’s why he wrote the letter to the Haredim.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Yedidia Z. Stern: “Religion, State, and the Jewish Identity Crisis in Israel” and other sources.

The Jewish calendar is full of commemorative dates. The Torah commands us to celebrate Shabbat, Rosh Chodesh, Passover, Sukkot, Shmini Atzeret, Shavuot, Rosh Hashanah, and Yom Kippur. Later, the rabbis added Purim, Simchat Torah, Hanukkah, Tu Bishvat, Lag B’Omer, and the commemoration of Tisha b’Av, the day that commemorates the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem.

For many years, the list remained unchanged. It wasn’t until the second half of the 20th century that new dates were added to the calendar, which are associated with the two great events that marked the history of the Jewish people in that century: the Holocaust and the rebirth of the State of Israel.

«Yom Hashoa ve Hagevura» is the day that commemorates the Holocaust and the heroism of those who fought against barbarism. In 1951, the Israeli parliament designated the 27th of Nisan to commemorate the Jewish uprising in the Warsaw ghetto. They had originally considered the 13th of Nisan, the day when German forces began the systematic and total destruction of the ghetto, but opted for the 27th so as not to interfere with the holiday of Passover.

The commemoration of Yom Hashoah begins the day before with ceremonies and remembrance events in all spheres of Israeli society. The following day in Israel, the sound of sirens stops traffic for two minutes, and radio and television stations broadcast commemorative programs all day long. Following the same pattern, non-Orthodox Jewish communities around the world adopted the same day to commemorate the Holocaust. In their synagogues, commemorative texts are read, one or more lamps are lit in memory of the six million victims, and the Maale Rahamim and Kaddish, prayers related to death, are recited. In 1988, the Reform movement published «Six Days of Destruction,» a text written by Elie Wiesel and Rabbi Albert Friedlander, which is read in synagogue on that day as a «Megillah.» Similarly, the Conservative movement created «Megillat HaShoah,» a text developed by a group of rabbis led by Professor Avigdor Shinan, which contains survivor accounts written in a biblical style. Some Orthodox communities, meanwhile, have included the remembrance of the victims of the Shoah on traditional minor fast days, such as the 11th of Tevet, although they do not include any special prayers on that day.

Creating a new commemoration in the Jewish calendar is not simple. All significant dates have gone through a process that has involved adjustments and changes, giving each one its present form. The form has changed, as celebrating Passover today is different from how it was two thousand years ago. But in all cases, the underlying message is the same. The message of Yom Hashoah, and especially what the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising meant, has implications for the Jewish people, both from a national perspective, as their very existence was in danger, and from a religious perspective, as it tested their relationship with the Creator.

Yom Hashoah can have a national character, as they do in Israel, it can have a religious character, as is the case in most synagogues around the world, or it can have both. However, what is important is not so much the form as the substance: remembering the Holocaust is what matters.

By Marcos Gojman

Bibliography: Various sources

David M. Gitlitz and Linda Kay Davidson, in their book “Pilgrimage and the Jews,” address the topic of Jewish pilgrimages. And they ask: Are pilgrimages like those Catholics who go to Lourdes or Fatima to seek a cure for their illness? Well, many Jews go to Rachel’s Tomb or the Tomb of the Patriarchs in search of a cure. Like Muslims who go to Mecca? Jews from all over the world come to Jerusalem to pray at the Western Wall. Like those who go to the tombs of saints like St. Francis of Assisi? Many Jews make annual pilgrimages to the tombs of their rebbes, like Elimelech of Lezhansk, Poland, or Menachem Mendel Schneerson in Queens. Like the Indians who go to Varanasi on the banks of the Ganges River to die? For hundreds of years, elderly Jews have made the journey to Jerusalem to die and be buried on the Mount of Olives.

Gitlitz and Davidson say: “A pilgrimage is literally a journey to a place charged with meaning. That meaning can be very varied, but pilgrimages with a religious theme are especially notable, operating under three premises: first, that there is an invisible power, far greater than ourselves, that takes an active role in shaping our lives; second, that humans can connect with that power; and third, that that power is especially accessible in certain privileged places.”

Already in biblical times, the Israelites were obligated to make pilgrimages. The Torah states that every adult male was required to visit the Temple in Jerusalem three times: on Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot. This was done while the Temple existed, both the first and second, but with the destruction of the latter, this practice was canceled. The Talmud, for its part, speaks little on the subject, and nowhere do the rabbis command pilgrimages, with the exception of going to Jerusalem on the three holy days.

Norman Solomon says that while the Talmudic sages did not encourage pilgrimages, Jewish folk customs did, focusing on visiting the tombs of patriarchs, prophets, and sages. The list, which is quite long, includes the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron, the tomb of the prophet Ezekiel in Iraq, the tomb of Shimon bar Yochai in Meron, the tomb of Rabbi David uMoshe in Morocco, and the tomb of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav in Uman, Ukraine, among others.

The pilgrimage to Uman is particularly notable. Every Rosh Hashanah, tens of thousands of Hasidim visit the tomb of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, in the ancient Jewish cemetery. Before his death, the Rebbe promised to intercede for anyone who came to pray at his grave on Rosh Hashanah, «even the worst of sinners.» And his followers visit it, hoping he will keep his promise.

Pilgrimages are a universal phenomenon. Many have a religious theme, but there are also «secular» ones, such as «The March of Life» that visits Auschwitz. Some seek personal benefit, like the pilgrimage to Uman, others a more spiritual connection. But in any case, for better or worse, the pilgrimage is a journey that changes you.

By Marcos Gojman:

Bibliography: David M. Gitlitz and Linda Kay Davidson «Pilgrimage and the Jews,» Norman Solomon «Jewish Pilgrimage and Peace,» and other sources.

The Torah tells us, in Genesis 23, that Sarah died at the age of 127 in Kiryat Arba, today Hebron. Upon her death, Abraham spoke to the sons of Heth to ask for a place to bury her. He wanted the Cave of Machpelah, which belonged to one of them, Efron son of Zohar. He sold it to Abraham for 400 shekels of silver. Genesis tells us in 25:9 that Abraham was buried next to his wife, and in 49:31, Jacob, on his deathbed, tells his sons that he had buried his parents Isaac and Rebekah and his wife Leah in that cave. Jacob was also buried there by his sons. Many years later, to gain the support of the Jews, Herod the Great (second half of the 1st century BCE) built a rectangular enclosure to surround the Cave of Machpelah, which is one of the few Herodian structures preserved from the time of Hellenistic Judaism. Herod’s building, with 6-foot-thick stone walls, had no roof. Archaeologists are unsure where the original entrance to the enclosure was located or even if there was one.

During the Byzantine Empire, a Christian basilica was built at the southeast end of the building, and the enclosure was roofed everywhere except in the center. The Pilgrim Piacenza (c. 570) reports that Jews and Christians shared possession of the site. In 614, the Persians conquered the area and destroyed the basilica, leaving it in ruins.

In 637, the area came under Arab control, and the building was rebuilt as a roofed mosque. In 1100, after the area was captured by the Crusaders, the compound once again became a church, and Muslims were no longer allowed to enter. During this period, the building was given a new gabled roof, windows, and a vault.

Toward the end of the Crusader period, in 1166, Maimonides visited Hebron and wrote: «On Sunday, the 9th of Marheshvan, I left Jerusalem to go to Hebron to kiss the graves of my ancestors in the cave. I was in the cave and prayed, praise be to God, in gratitude for everything.» In 1170, Benjamin of Tudela visited the site. He wrote: «Here is the great church called St. Abram, and this was a Jewish place of worship during the time of Muslim rule, but the Gentiles have erected six monuments, respectively named those of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah.»

In 1188, Saladin conquered the area, converting the compound into a mosque but allowing Christians to continue worshipping there. At the end of the 14th century, the Mamluks banned Jews and Christians from entering the site. They added two minarets, wall decorations, and a marble facade. The ban on access to Jews and Christians lasted 700 years, until 1967.

For Judaism, the Tomb of the Patriarchs is the second holiest site, after the Western Wall in Jerusalem. More than 300,000 people visit it annually. The structure is divided into three halls: Ohel Abraham, Ohel Yitzhak, and Ohel Yaakov. Currently, Jews are not allowed access to Ohel Yitzhak, the largest hall, except for 10 days a year. No one is allowed access to the cave itself. The troubled history of the Cave of Machpelah reflects the problematic relationship that exists to this day between the three religions that trace their origins to the patriarch Abraham. Unfortunately, the site could have become the best example of the three religions’ coexistence.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Encyclopaedia Judaica and other sources.

In Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, the main character, Jean Valjean, is sent to prison, initially for five years, for stealing a loaf of bread. The novel is set in France in 1795. Today, in some Islamic fundamentalist regimes, the punishment for stealing more than a quarter of a dinar is to cut off the thief’s hand. In some societies, the punishment is or was disproportionate to the harm committed.

It is written in Exodus 21:23-25: «But if there is any other wrong, then you shall appoint as punishment: life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.» The concept is repeated in Leviticus 24:18-20 and Deuteronomy 19:21. This maxim is known as the Law of Talion, from the Latin «talis,» meaning «identical» or «similar,» meaning that the punishment imposed must be identical or equivalent to the damage. This was a revolutionary idea, especially in the world of biblical times, when it was common for punishment to be disproportionate to the harm caused. However, in Jewish literature, there is no known case where this law was applied literally.

The rabbis of the Mishnah (1st century CE) went further. In chapter 8 of the Talmud’s tractate Bava Kama, they discussed the issue at length and ultimately decided that compensation should be monetary, as applying the commandment literally presented legal and ethical difficulties. One of the many arguments they presented was what R. Simon b. Yohai said: «An eye for an eye means monetary compensation, not gouging out the eye of the guilty party. What then do you do in the case where a blind person gouges out another person’s eye, or where a cripple cuts off another person’s hand, or where a lame person breaks another person’s leg? How can the principle of an eye for an eye be fulfilled in this case?» For the blind person who gouged out another person’s eye, it is not a punishment to have his own eye gouged out.

The Mishnah in Bava Kamma 83b continues the theme and says: «He who injures another person is responsible for paying, in addition to the damage caused (being left maimed, for example), for the pain caused, the costs of healing, the time lost in earning a living, and the humiliation.» The amount to be paid is determined by a rabbinical court.

What does all this mean? The rabbis, in the early years of the Common Era, reinterpreted and modified the application of the biblical precept to make it more humane. A position repeated countless times, on many topics, in the pages of the Talmud. Rabbinic Judaism not only considered the legal aspect, but also considered the effects it would have on humankind.

The principle of «an eye for an eye,» found in the Bible, has been completely misunderstood. It is generally thought to be a barbaric prescription focused on personal revenge and is often contrasted with the New Testament principle of turning the other cheek. Gandhi said that an eye for an eye would blind everyone. «An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life» is found in the sections of the Bible that instruct judges how to punish criminals. It is strictly an instruction for justice, not for personal revenge.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Adam Kirsch: «Is an eye for an eye really an eye for an eye?» and other sources.

The first Temple in Jerusalem was built by King Solomon on Mount Moriah in the early years of his reign (970-931 BCE). It was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, in 586 BCE. The second Temple began construction in 538 BCE and was completed 23 years later. Several centuries later, around 20 BCE, the second Temple was renovated and expanded by Herod the Great (73-4 BCE), who had been appointed king of Judea.

The rebuilding of the temple under Herod began with a massive expansion of Mount Moriah, which had a plateau on the northern end and declined steeply on the southern slope. Herod’s plan was to turn the entire mountain into a giant esplanade. To extend the natural plateau of the Mount, he enclosed the area between four large retaining walls and filled in the gaps. On top of this plateau, Herod virtually rebuilt the Temple, using only priests and Levites as workers. Herod’s Temple was completely destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE.

Today in Jerusalem, most of the retaining wall is hidden behind residential buildings, with the exception of the southern portion of the western side of the wall, which is visible and is known as the Western Wall, or in Hebrew, the Kotel Hamaarabi. Therefore, strictly speaking, the Kotel was not an integral part of the Temple itself, but rather of the Mount’s plateau.

The Midrash speaks of the western wall of the Temple, but it is not until the 16th century, with the Ottoman conquest of the Land of Israel and the migration of Spanish Jews to Turkish lands, that the Western Wall of the Temple Mount is mentioned in some writings as a place where Jews gathered to pray. With the expansion of the Jewish population in the Land of Israel beginning in the 19th century and the increase in visitors, the Wall’s popularity began to grow among the Jewish people. Images of the Wall began to appear in works of Jewish folk art, to be mentioned in literary works, and the first archaeological work began.

Some Jewish philanthropists, such as Sir Moses Montefiore and Baron Rothchild, attempted to purchase the Wall and the adjacent neighborhood, but were unable to do so for reasons that remain unclear. The Anglo-Palestine Bank attempted to do so in the early 20th century, with similar success. After the Balfour Declaration and the recognition of a Jewish community in the Land of Israel by the British Mandate, the Western Wall began to have national significance as well as religious significance.

From the beginning of the 20th century, the Western Wall was a constant scene of conflict between Arabs and Jews. A League of Nations commission, in 1930, ruled that the Wall belonged to Muslims, but that Jews had every right to pray there, although they could not blow the shofar. From 1947 to 1967, Jews had virtually no access to the Wall, until the Six-Day War, when Old Jerusalem passed into Jewish hands. The famous photo of the first Israeli soldiers at the Kotel established the Western Wall as the most representative place of the Jewish people. The Wall is, without a doubt, the most symbolic place in Judaism.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Encyclopaedia Judaica and other sources.

The Talmud tells us that, during the Roman siege of Jerusalem (70 CE), Rabbi Yohanan Ben-Zakai managed to remove the sages and leaders of the Jewish people from the city and bring them to Yavneh. However, his actions could not prevent the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple, which ended Jewish sovereignty over the Land of Israel.

Evelyn Gordon and Hadassah Levy tell us: “The Torah was clearly intended for a sovereign people in its own land: numerous commandments, such as those related to the Temple service or agriculture, can only be carried out in the Land of Israel. Many others, from matters of trade to legal issues, are enforceable only in a sovereign state.”

Gordon and Levy continue: “As time passed, it became clear that the exile would be prolonged. The rabbis therefore began the process of converting Judaism into something capable of surviving outside its homeland. The Temple service was replaced by prayer. The festivals were reinterpreted. A fixed calendar was established. Torah study became the supreme value. And the importance of sovereignty, of being an independent nation, was downplayed: for the sake of Jewish survival, the message was that sovereignty was not essential as long as rabbinic leadership remained.” This process of conversion took shape by writing down the oral law, first in the Mishna and finally, after four centuries, in the Talmud. This ensured uniformity in the principles of halakha and the authority of the rabbis.

But with the establishment of the State of Israel, the sovereignty of the Jewish people over their land was restored, and halakha must now adapt to the new conditions. Just as Ben-Zakai and his successors transformed Judaism from a religion of sovereignty to a religion of exile, Judaism must now reverse the process and reconstitute itself as the religion of a sovereign nation. How should a Jewish country and army function? How should a Jewish state regulate marriage and divorce? What are the rules for acquiring citizenship? Can employees of public services, such as electricity, the army, the police, and hospitals, work on Shabbat? How should agriculture, education, and the legal system function? The answers are not obvious.

Halakha must now create new ways of interpreting the Torah in the State of Israel. Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits tells us: I believe we can say that halakha has the wisdom to be able to adapt, with intelligence and common sense, the written word of the Torah to the new circumstances of the Jewish people. This wisdom and its implementation cannot be rigidly restricted to any code. No written word can foresee in advance the countless situations and changes in circumstances that occur in the history of men and nations. But this change has not occurred. As Berkovits says, all the years of diaspora have made us lose the capacity to resolve situations as a nation. We still have the halakha of the shtetl, of exile, when we should already have the halakha of the State of Israel.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: Evelyn Gordon, Hadassah Levy, “Halacha’s Moment of Truth,” and Eliezer Berkovits, “Not in Heaven: The Nature and Function of Halakha.”

Professor James A. Diamond tells us: “One problem that the sages of the Talmudic era encountered was the fact that no biblical figure even remotely walked or talked like a rabbi.” This anomaly was particularly serious when those figures were the founding fathers of Judaism, such as the patriarchs and Moses, or its most prominent heroes, such as Kings David and Solomon. The dilemma of biblical heroes who did not meet the ethical and spiritual standards of rabbinic Judaism placed the sages in a quandary, as was the case with King David.

David was the second king of the people of Israel and reigned from approximately 1010 to 970 BCE. The Bible describes him as a great warrior and a writer of psalms. In his 40 years as ruler, he accomplished important things, uniting the people of Israel, leading them to victory in numerous battles, conquering the land, and paving the way for his son Solomon to build the Temple. But the Bible also mentions how he committed adultery with the woman who would later become his most famous wife, Batsheva, King Solomon’s mother. David saw her naked from his terrace, had relations with her, and impregnated her. But Batsheva was married to Uriah, so David sent him to the front lines, where he died. Nathan prophesied the punishment that would fall upon the House of David for this sin: «The sword will never depart from your house.»

But the rabbis of the Talmudic era presented a different picture. The Midrash tells us: “David was not educated like his brothers, but spent his days in the fields tending sheep. This pastoral life prepared him for the position he was to occupy. He treated the sheep entrusted to his care with love and tenderness, so God said: ‘He understands how to tend sheep, so he will become the shepherd of my flock of Israel’” (Midr. Teh. 78). And in another passage they continue in the same vein: “David’s humility is said to have been so extraordinary that when he taught the Torah to his students in the legendary rabbinical academy of his time, he did so while sitting on the bare floor, rather than in the comfort of pillows and cushions. This was because David refused to assume a hierarchical posture in front of his students.”

Why did the rabbis do this? In writing the Mishnah and later the Gemara, the rabbis sought to frame the practice of Judaism within an ethical and religious framework that they understood very clearly, but which the stories in the Bible sometimes failed to explain. How could they understand that the Messiah would come from the House of David if he was a sinner who had committed adultery with Bathsheba? Diamond says: “The rabbis of this formative period, like modern scholars, faced in the biblical texts, among other peculiarities, a series of contradictions, duplicate narratives, literary and legal gaps, chronological discrepancies, inconsistencies, passages and terms that could not be deciphered.” Richard Kalmin comments that, especially in the Babylonian Talmud, the rabbis saw great sages everywhere and presented biblical figures, even the most sinful, as great rabbis.

The way to fix the problem with King David was to change the narrative. They turned the sinful David of the Bible into the holy David of the Talmud.

By Marcos Gojman.

Bibliography: James A. Diamond “King David of the Sages: Rabbinic Rehabilitation or Ironic Parody”

Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi, known as “Rabbi,” (135–217 CE) lived in the Land of Israel during the Roman occupation. He was very wealthy and highly respected by the Romans. He was a key leader of the Jewish community at that time. According to the Talmud, he was descended from King David, hence the title “Nasi,” prince. He was the author of the Mishnah, the first work of rabbinic Judaism that recorded the Oral Torah. One of his students was Shimon Bar Kappara, who lived around the same time, between 180 and 220 CE, the period between the Tannaim and the Amoraim.

Relations between Bar Kappara and the House of Rabbi were tense, leading Bar Kappara to establish his academy in Caesarea, south of the Land of Israel. It is said that once, while walking along the coast, he saw a Roman who had been saved from a shipwreck emerging from the sea. Bar Kappara took him home, provided him with clothing and everything he needed, including money. This shipwrecked man was the proconsul of Caesarea, and he soon showed his gratitude to Bar Kappara when he freed some Jews who were arrested for participating in a political disturbance.

Bar Kappara admired the natural sciences, a study proscribed by most Jews of the time, who considered it part of «Greek culture.» He also appreciated the Greeks’ love of beauty. He was probably the only sage in the Land of Israel who welcomed the literary activity of the Greek-speaking Jews of Alexandria. Bar Kappara wrote commentaries on the Mishnah, which appear in the Talmud and clarify obscure passages in the text. With these, the editors of the Tosefta were able to make better halachic decisions.

The agadah tells of a time when Rabbi organized a wedding banquet for his son, inviting all the sages except Bar Kappara. Bar Kappara went and wrote on the door: “The end of all joy is death, so what’s the point of rejoicing?” Rabbi asked who had written it and was told it was Bar Kappara, whom he hadn’t invited to the banquet. Rabbi decided to hold another banquet and this time invited all the sages, including Bar Kappara. During the banquet, Rabbi noticed that the guests weren’t touching the food. Rabbi asked his servants why his guests weren’t eating, and they replied: “Every time we bring a dish, an old man tells three hundred fables, and the guests, listening to them, let the food get cold and don’t touch it.” Rabbi, annoyed, asked Bar Kappara why he did that. Bar Kappara replies: “So you won’t say I came for your food; I came to be with my colleagues.” The Midrash tells us that Rabbi and Bar Kappara eventually made peace. However, Rabbi did not grant his student the title of rabbi.

Rabbi said: “I have learned a lot from my teachers, even more from my colleagues, but much more from my students.” Bar Kappara was undoubtedly a different student. The question remains: How much did one learn from the other?

By Marcos Gochman.

Bibliography: Sefer Ha Agadah by Bialik and Ravnitzky and the Jewish Encyclopedia.