What is Rabbinic Judaism?
Solving the Problem of Scriptural Interpretation in Late Antique Judaism
Recently, I gave a presentation on my thesis at a conference in Copenhagen, and a thing that struck me as I spoke to attendants and co-presenters, though it really didn’t come as a surprise, was the very limited amount of knowledge and understanding in the broader public of how Rabbinic Judaism works, and how it came to be the dominant form of Judaism through the 1st millennium and middle ages. This is, of course, highly excusable, as it’s a pretty complex and difficult thing to grasp, especially if you are not given some sort of education in it, but I decided to give a brief attempt at explaining the bare bones of it today! To give some brief background, after the Romans sacked Jerusalem and the Second Temple in ca. 70 CE, Judaism was forced to decentralize, synagogues started popping up, and over the first centuries of the first millennium CE, leading into the middle ages, the priests slowly lost influence, and Rabbinic Judaism slowly became the dominant, and eventually practically only extant form of Judaism (depending how you look at some strands of Jewish mysticism).
In Protestant or Wahabi/Hanbali parts of the world, people tend to think (because, largely, this is how we’re raised) that what you do with holy scripture is simply “read and understand”, as if the writing is as positively clear and consistent as a modern rule book. This way of imagining religion as a stagnant practice of simply reiterating and following old (perhaps outdated) views and prescriptions is often one of the core criticisms levied at religion and religious people, yet this way of relating to scripture is in fact, in theory, not a consistent practise nor attitude in traditional religious scholarships, quite far from it, in fact.
Almost every religious tradition has a “system” to it for interpretation, maintenance and “updating” of religious literature and traditions. Certainly, some religious sects or sub-grouping are more likely to take this very positivist attitude to scripture (Conservative Baptists, Ultra-orthodox Jews, Wahabi Muslims), typically they are referred to as “literalists” or “traditionalists” (even though the latter is extremely misleading), because they believe theirs or a specific set of interpretations not to be interpretation, but “the Truth”, as given directly from the mouth of God. While I cannot hope to explain here the huge debates on how this is supposed to work for most religious traditions, today I will begin by attempting to give the reader a brief idea of how the question of interpretation is dealt with in Judaism, by introducing you to the Talmud!
In time, I will likely make similar papers for Christian and Islamic solutions to the problem of interpretation, but to put it briefly, both these religions, like Rabbinic Judaism, has very elegant and refined systems and methods for interpretation of holy scripture. The concept of Jesus as the Word, as well as ecumenical councils, became central for Christians, for Muslims, the Fuqaha have debated since the 7th century the degree of human agency in interpretive activity, with many different law schools springing from these debates.
For Rabbinic Judaism, as I have discussed earlier on this Substack, the theological solution to the question of how to continue adhering to literature that is quickly becoming too old to understand just by reading it, without proper education, was the concept of the ‘Oral Torah’. After Moses was given the revelation on Mt. Sinai, he did not just receive the written Torah, but the oral Torah as well, meant to be unfurled by humans (rabbis) throughout the ages. “The Torah is not in heaven”, as it was; the contexts of the written must be elicited with discussion and interpretation amongst the learned rabbis.1 For today’s paper, I am simply going to give a brief explanation of the texts aside the Tanakh/Hebrew Bible/”Old Testament” (for Christians)/Tawrāh (in Islamic tradition), that form the heart of the Talmudic, or Rabbinic Jewish Tradition.
Talmud = Mishnah + Gemara [& Stam]
The Talmud is a name used for a collection of texts containing interpretations, discussions, and analyses of (Hebrew) Biblical texts. However, the Talmud is itself made up of several layers of text and textual traditions collected over many centuries over a large area. Allow me to explain the taxonomy briefly: There are 8 generations, split in three categories, of sages/teachers/rabbis present in the Talmud: The earliest being the Tannaim (1st-2nd centuries CE), then the Amoraim (3rd-6th centuries CE), and the Stammaim (6th-8th centuries CE). Each of these generations have been accredited with the three layers of the Talmud, the Tannaitic (Mishnah), Amoraic (Gemara), and Stammaitic (Gemara [Stam]) layers. The distinction between Amoraic and Stammaitic can sometimes be quite soft.
Being collated in the first couple centuries CE, after the (at this time more or less) crystallized books of the Hebrew Bible, the Mishnah is a collection of sayings and rulings, divided in six thematic orders (seder), which each has several further subdivisions (massekhtot, mishnayot, halakhot), and is concerned with pronouncing proper Jewish practice and laws, in the context of scripture, but drawn from very specific cases.2 The Mishnah, along with with the Gemara, a later layer of further rabbinic (Amoraic) commentaries and analyses on the Mishnah, collected ca. 4th-6th centuries CE, and the latest Stam-layer (ca. 6th-8th centuries), altogether are referred to as Talmud, also often called the ‘Oral Torah’ in the Rabbinic tradition. There are, in fact two Gemara, and following, two Talmuds. On is the Jerusalem (Yerushalmi) or Palestinian Talmud (not very well-known), the other is the Babylonian (Bavli) Talmud (known all over the world, in many ways the most central book to Rabbinic Judaism), but I will come back to that.3
The Mishnah are the earliest layer of the Talmud, largely collected around the turn of the 2nd to 3rd centuries CE by the Tannaim, in the Rabbinic tradition specifically by Yehuda HaNasi, but tractates and interpolations vary in age.4 “Mishnah” is a participle of the Hebrew word shanah – שנה “To repeat”5, and it is written in Mishnaic Hebrew, with considerable Aramaic influence.6 They were made in a time when Hebrew language was becoming increasingly rare, Aramaic was more and more commonly spoken in the Levant and Babylonia, and the language of the now relatively crystallized Biblical books was growing increasingly hard to understand.
As such, it centers around the discussions of meanings of terms, how exactly to understand prescriptions, abstract sections of Tanakh, and while the exact nature of the Mishnah has been heavily debated7, it seems focused on drawing specific conclusions from specific cases.8 In the Mishnah Tractate Yoma 8, we see how to deal with exceptions to fasting during Yom Kippur, dealing with atonements for breaking rules, and cases where exemption is necessary in connection to sickness, pregnancy, children, etc (Yoma 8:1-8). A prominent feature in Rabbinic literature and tradition is that it tends to preserve several opinions in a discussion, and does not label them “correct” and “wrong”, but rather call them “majority” and “minority” opinions, and often times the discussions will be given with little to no background-info.
As stated, the Mishnah is quite interested in rules, definitions, exceptions to rules, clashes between rules, which in a rabbinic framework could be referred to as a ‘halakhic’ interest, as opposed to ‘aggadic’ literature, which is more concerned with stories, narratives, and parables, in a sense explaining halakhic reasoning. Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, and diasporic literature are much more diverse in genre, content, and language(s), and often difficult to date and place, but generally date to the late Second Temple period. Centrally, these texts were not transmitted by rabbis. Pseudepigrapha, Apocrypha and other Greek diaspora-literature were seemingly only transmitted by Christians (or perceived ‘Christians’, often “Jesus-follower” seems a more useful term in the early centuries CE), and the Dead Sea scrolls makes the picture even more muddled.9
Discussing the differences from Mishnah to Pseudepigrapha or Apocrypha means discussing what Judaism, Christianity, and paganism mean in antiquity and late antiquity, and equally in (post)modernity. By modern, rabbinic standards, Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha could hardly even be considered ‘Jewish’ at all, while the Mishnah is central to Rabbinic Judaism. The nature of the faith(s) that would emerge as Judaism and Christianity were radically different from Judaism and Christianity as they are commonly understood today, as the discovery and inclusion of many non-rabbinic kinds of literature that has begun resurfacing or being connected to early Judaism.10
Rabbinic Modes of Reasoning: Examples
To give an example of ways in which the Rabbinic movement dealt with some of the often rather “stiff”-sounding commandments in the Hebrew Bible, let us look at Yoma again. A concern for the preservation of life over strict adherence permeated already from the Mishnah, specified in Yoma 8:6f: “And any matter of doubt as to danger to life overrides the prohibitions of the Sabbath”. We see it fleshed out in Yoma 8:5b: “A sick person—they feed him on the instruction of experts”. It does go on to say that if there are no doctors present, then one listens to the patient.
A change from Mishnah to both the Talmudim (as said, we have two, but the Jerusalem-one likely fell into relative obscurity during the early middle ages); the Yerushalmi and Bavli (The Jerusalem or Palestinian, and the Babylonian Talmud), however, is seen in how leniency and pragmatism weighs increasingly more, the main difference between the Talmudim in this regard being the usual distinctly longer elaboration in the Bavli.
In the following example from b. Yoma (83a:1-3), we see leniency towards patients, and we also get a sense of the Talmudic search for general principles: In the Gemara the commentators explain to us, quoting Proverbs 14:10, that “the heart knows the bitterness of the soul”, here inferred to mean the sick person knows better how bad they feel than their doctor, and as such the patient’s demands for food should be prioritized over the doctor’s advice. The leniency itself is likely best considered a result of the emphasis on ‘when in doubt, preserve life’. This is further highlighted in cases where the patient denies food, one listens to the doctor if they say they do need food, due to the delirium that could potentially follow from being sick/malnourished (b. Yoma 83a:1-3).
In the Tosefta (A collection of sayings and traditions from the 2nd century CE Tannaim), specifically Tosefta Hullin 2:21-22, Yerushalmi tractates Shabbat 14:4 and Avodah Zarah 2:2, and Bavli Avodah Zarah 27b, we hear the story of R. Eleazar b. Damah, who was bitten by a snake. In all stories, he perishes before being able to be treated, but we see very different attitudes to the lack of treatment. The Tosefta directly discourages interactions with Jesus-followers, exemplifying with a story. In it, Jakob of Kefar Sama came to heal in the name of Jesus (Pantera). Rabbi Ishmael refuses this, and although b. Damah tries to find legitimation for his healing, he perishes before he can do so. Ishmael celebrates the fact that b. Damah died keeping the “the hedge” standing, quoting Ecclesiastes 10:8. Meanwhile, the Yerushalmi and Bavli have increasingly critical words reserved for this case. The Yerushalmi Shabbat 14 asks “but had a snake not already bit him?” but responds to itself that “it will not bite him in the world to come”, likely due to his lawful death. The Bavli is very sceptical of this ruling, and in b. Shabbat 14d it stressed that Leviticus 18:5 tells us to live by the hedge, and that here the rabbis were in fact the killers of b. Damah.
We see in b. Yoma 83a that the authors of the Stam-layer of the Talmudim are anonymous, often referring to themselves and/or their readers as “we”. The Stam deals heavily with understanding the reasoning behind the decisions of the many generations of Amoraim and Tannaim preceding them. Also, and this is particularly true for the Bavli, the Stam goes out of its way to provide as many examples and discussions as there are counterarguments to be considered and provides plenty of meta-language, for example often exclaiming variations of the statement “this is obvious!”. The Stam is also layer of Talmud with the most Aramaic.
The Shadow: Explanation Through Parable
The mashal (lit. “shadow”) is in a sense genre, technique, and rhetorical device. Their original context is not entirely known, but while it has been suggested that they arose in the context of sermon, some may have been passed down orally, but others only in writing for generations, and they seem to have been hermeneutic, that is, meant to cast light on a given Biblical verse. They, like other Aggadic genres, often work allegorically, and could infer meaning from a text (for examples about lepers) that has nothing directly to do with the subject of the parable (for example about the proper use of language).11 Shinan is quite sweeping in his understanding of Midrash, essentially calling all Midrash ‘Aggadic literature’, where Holtz and Collins more are careful, pointing out, much like Shinan still does in practise, that the border between Halakhah and Aggadah is a quite fluent one, and that they seem to be driven by the same force of adaption or ablution/accommodation of religious tension.12
The mashal is arguably also a technique since the exegetic engagement itself can lead to many kinds of interpretations. The above example with Cain and Abel exists in other forms, too. In Genesis Rabbah (Midrash Rabbah Bereshit 22:9) we find a similar, but much more expansive treatment of Gen. 4, and here the rabbis go further in their critique of God’s callousness. This is not without tribulation. R. Simeon b. Yohai tells us “this is difficult to say” before giving us a mashal, comparing the case of the brothers to two wrestling athletes in front of the king, one of whom dies as the king does not step in to stop the fight in time. The king could have stopped the bloodshed of the brother, he simply did not - a difficult interpretation to give, as it understands that God could have stepped in, but simply did not.
Genesis Rabbah gives other interpretations of “your brother’s blood”, R. Simeon b. Yohai suggests the blood could not yet ascend or descend with the soul, thus screaming from the ground, rocks, and trees. R. Judan and R. Huna reach the conclusion that as “blood” is indeed plural, based on readings of the same term in II Kings and II Chronicles, this refers to the many generations from Abel that will never be born (Gen. Rab. 22:9). However, parables, differently to how “homiletic” texts are defined by Shinan, are not always meant to generate a coherent message. Bavli Shabbat (153a) presents a nimshal (what is being exemplified with the parable) in which R. Eliezer discusses death and repentance with his students, telling us “Let your clothes always be freshly washed, and your head never lack ointment” (Solomon in Eccl. 9:8). Then a mashal in which a king (God) invites his servants to banquet with no appointed time. His “wise” servants immediately adorn themselves and go sit in front of the palace gate. His “foolish” servants keep working. When the king calls them for the banquet, he is pleased with the adorned servants, while the fools are left to stand and watch. This parable complicates an issue: God will not give the appointed time of his banquet (death), so how can we be ready for it? Should we sit by the graveyard and wait all our lives? Are the “fools” not honourable for keeping their duties in the face of their demise? What this story illustrates is that it is difficult to understand what God wants, and how, and it does not take stupidity nor an evil heart to make mistakes.
Reflections of Society, and of Humanity
In Bavli Ket. 61b-63a there is an interesting discrepancy between Mishnah and Gemara. The halakhic decision in the Mishnah relates a 30-day period in which study can be conducted without the wife’s accept. The Gemara claims to agree with the Mishnah, but a dissenting view is added, which gives a period for up to 3 years, but the Gemara contends that this is life-threatening due to the anguish it causes their wives, and gives examples of scholars following this dissenting view, and (sometimes) paying the price. Strangely, it is not always the case, as often in these examples, whoever dies (sometimes the wife, sometimes the husband) is revived again due to God’s mercy. We get a sense here of the very different conditions rabbis lived under in say 2nd-5th centuries, and in the 6th-8th centuries. Torah study was in both periods a fully male activity, but even though study was, amongst rabbis, the highest duty, they, like Roman and Greek scholars, could not embrace celibacy, as Rabbinic maxims stress both study and family, specifically also tending to their wives’ needs.
While the Yerushalmi does have some hints at this tension, it is in the Bavli, particularly in what seems to be Stammaitic (From the latest Stam-layer of the Talmud) additions, that we really see a tendency occurring. Life for rabbinic students in post-Amoraic Babylonia was quite different from dense, small town-Palestine, and you can tell in how they frame their stories: The vast expanses and small number of large, centralized academies meant long travels and stays away from home. And where you can often sense the Mishnaic stress on the importance of marriage in b. Ket, the stam-authors seemingly often saw their wives as impediments to their study.13
We see a tension here between the stress on the value of study versus on broader livelihood, as is also apparent in b. Taanit 21a, where Ilfa and Jonathan take very different approaches to life, but even though Jonathan becomes an academy leader, and Ilfa a businessman, the Bavli does not really seem convinced that one is more right that the other, as both are shown to be devout students. As with the parable of the king and the banquet, this does not lend itself to an easy answer. In many of the stories in b. Ket, husband, and wife, sometimes even their offspring, are deeply affected by the absence of their fathers/husbands/wives, and very tragic fates befall them. And even though we certainly find the kind of “return of the nerd” high school power-fantasies, like in b. Ket. 63a, or about the importance of Torah-study regardless of profession, as in b. Taanit, the Talmud is nonetheless very self-critical. Rabbinic literature across the centuries does not shy away from simply expressing the incoherence, unfairness, and hardship of life, and the sometimes-nonsensical human drive to try and make sense of it.
And with that, today’s exposition on Rabbinic Judaism has come to an end. This was not meant as a full exposition on the intricacies of Rabbinic Judaism, but hopefully this small essay has given you an impression of the complex, diverse, and dynamic nature of Judaism(s) through the ages. To this day, there is an enormous distinction in how people understand and interpret the commandments, depending if one is considered to belong to the reform-segment, the orthodox-segment, the ultra-orthodox-segment, or something else.
Stay tuned for more!
Zetterholm, Karin. 2012. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: Ancient and Contemporary. Fortress Press: Minneapolis: 5-10. For More, see the full book Zetterholm, Karin. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: Ancient and Contemporary. Fortress Press: Minneapolis. 2012.
Collins, John J. ”The Literature of the Second Temple Period”. In Martin Goodman (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Studies. Oxford University Press. 2004: 23.
Zetterholm, Karin. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: Ancient and Contemporary. Fortress Press: Minneapolis. 2012: 24-26.
Ibid.: 39; Collins, John J. ”The Literature of the Second Temple Period”: 25.
Zetterholm, Karin. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: 39.
Collins, John J. ”The Literature of the Second Temple Period”: 25.
Zetterholm, Karin. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: 44-45.
Collins, John J. ”The Literature of the Second Temple Period”: 23.
Ibid.: 53-56; Himmelfarb, Martha. “The Partings of the Ways Reconsidered: Diversity in Judaism and Jewish-Christian Relations in the Roman Empire”. [Pp. 47–61] In Interwoven Destinies: Jews and Christians Through the Ages. New York: Paulist Press. 1993: 47-51; Reed, Annette Yoshiko, “Rabbis, ‘Jewish Christians’, and Other Late Antique Jews: Reflections on the Fate of Judaism(s) After 70 C. E.”. [Pp. 323–346] In The Changing Face of Judaism, Christianity, and Other Greco-Roman Religions in Antiquity. Edited by I. H. Henderson and G. S. Oegma. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. 2006.
Ibid.: 54, 73.
Shinan, Avigdor. ”The late Midrashic, Paytanic, and Targumic Literature”: 684, 688.
Ibid.: 678; Holtz, B. (ed.). Back to the Sources: 179; Collins, John J. ”The Literature of the Second Temple Period”: 78-79.
Rubenstein, J. L. The Culture of the Babylonian Talmud. Johns Hopkins University Press: Baltimore. 2003: 102-103, 120-122.
Literature
Collins, John J. 'The Literature of the Second Temple Period'. In Martin Goodman (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Studies. Oxford University Press. 2004.
Himmelfarb, Martha. “The Partings of the Ways Reconsidered: Diversity in Judaism and Jewish-Christian Relations in the Roman Empire”. [Pp. 47–61] In Interwoven Destinies: Jews and Christians Through the Ages. New York: Paulist Press. 1993.
Reed, Annette Yoshiko, “Rabbis, ‘Jewish Christians’, and Other Late Antique Jews: Reflections on the Fate of Judaism(s) After 70 C. E.”. [Pp. 323–346] In The Changing Face of Judaism, Christianity, and Other Greco-Roman Religions in Antiquity. Edited by I. H. Henderson and G. S. Oegma. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. 2006.
Rubenstein, J. L. The Culture of the Babylonian Talmud. Johns Hopkins University Press: Baltimore. 2003.
Shinan, Avigdor. ”The late Midrashic, Paytanic, and Targumic Literature” in The Cambridge History of Judaism. Vol. 4. [Pp. 678-698]. Cambridge University Press. 2006.
Zetterholm, Karin. Jewish Interpretation of the Bible: Ancient and Contemporary. Fortress Press: Minneapolis. 2012.