A Roadmap to the Heavens: An Anthropological Study of Hegemony among Priests, Sages, and Laymen 9781618110374

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A ROADMAP TO THE HEAVENS

JUDAISM AND JEWISH LIFE

Editorial board Geoffrey Alderman (University of Buckingham, Great Britain) Hebert Basser (Queens University, Canada) Donatella Ester Di Cesare (Università “La Sapienza,” Italy) Roberta Rosenberg Farber (Yeshiva University, New York), Series Editor Associate Simcha Fishbane (Touro College, New York), Series Editor Meir Bar Ilan (Bar Ilan University, Israel) Andreas Nachama (Touro College, Berlin) Ira Robinson (Concordia University, Montreal) Nissan Rubin (Bar Ilan University, Israel) Susan Starr Sered (Suffolk University, Boston) Reeva Spector Simon (Yeshiva University, New York)

A ROADMAP TO THE HEAVENS AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDY OF HEGEMONY AMONG PRIESTS, SAGES, AND LAYMEN

Sigalit Ben-Zion

Boston 2009

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Ben-Zion, Sigalit. A roadmap to the heavens : an anthropological study of hegemony among priests, sages, and laymen / Sigalit Ben-Zion. p. cm.—(Judaism and Jewish life) ISBN 978-1-934843-14-7 1. Cohanim. 2. Tannaim. 3. Jews—History—70-638. 4. Jews—Palestine—History. I. Title. BM720.C65B46 2008 305.50933—dc22 2008019991

Copyright © 2009 Academic Studies Press All rights reserved ISBN 978-1-934843-14-7 Book design by Yuri Alexandrov Published by Academic Studies Press in 2009 28 Montfern Avenue Brighton, MA 02135, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com

This monograph is dedicated to the memory of my dear father, David Ben-Zion, of blessed memory.

Longing I walked slowly in calculated steps towards the past towards the great white stones which reminded me what I already have managed to forget to forget the love the longing the pain the search to forget how much I love you I kept walking towards the endless sea I wanted to touch eternity the horizon the waves the wind the love the longing I wanted to touch you I whispered your name to the waves who kissed the shore goodbye I whispered to the waves what I couldn’t say to you If you only knew how much I love if you only knew how much I want but you deserted suddenly, the battle field and left me with the questions and the doubts and with the longing for someone who once was and is no more S. Ben-Zion

CONTENTS

Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

x

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xii CHAPTER ONE. Introduction and methodological considerations The purpose and significance of this research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mapping the social identity: “Priests,” “Sages,” and “ ‘Am ha’aretz” . . . . . . . . . Research methods and their contribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Qualitative textual research: The dialectic between diachronic and synchronic approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anthropological perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anthropological processes and concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Selection of sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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CHAPTER TWO. Mapping the social identity “Priests” The composition of the group of the Priests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 The uniqueness of the social identity “Priests” compared to the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 The socio-economic background of the Priests after the destruction of the Temple 23

The historical construction of the group of the Priests Primordial identities in micro-macro contexts . . . . . The cultural identity of the Priests as a social group . . Social boundary versus cultural content . . . . . . . .

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Cultural symbols: Ideology, commitment and specific practices Norms and obligations relating to the functions of the Priests .

The organization of the group of the Priests . . . . . . . . . . The organization of the Priests inside the Temple realm . . . . The organization of the Priests outside the Temple realm . . .

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24 26 31 32 33 41 52 59 59 69

The geographic settlements of the Priests according to the division of the priestly courses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80

CONTENTS

Sociology of ignorance and protected knowledge . . . . . . . . Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The praxis of protected knowledge by the group of the Priests . The group of the Priests as constituting the cultural hegemony in Jewish society . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ideological hegemony according to Gramsci . . . . . . . . . . . Discourse and its praxis as a source of power and knowledge . . The Priests as a superior group in Jewish society . . . . . . . .

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. . . . Did the Sages constitute an opposition to the class of the Priests? . The politics of historical construction of the Tannaitic Sages . . The construction of collective memory by the group of the Sages .

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91 92 94 95

CHAPTER THREE. Mapping the social identity “Sages” Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The relationship between the Sages and the Pharisees The composition of the Tannaitic Sages . . . . . . . . Was the group of the Sages an open group? . . . . . .

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101 102 115 117 119 126 128

The self-image of the Sages as those who controlled the institutions during the Second Temple period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133 The politics of the text in the making of social identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 The generation of counter-collective memory as an act of resistance within the cultural hegemony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138

The cultural identity of the group of the Sages: Diacritical features and a basic value system . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Group consciousness and common identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Appearance and lifestyle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Symbols of status as an expression of symbolic identity . . . . . . . . . . The usage of language as a social marker in a micro-macro context . . . . Basic value system . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Interdependency of the group of the Tannaitic Sages . . . . . . . . . . . The social network of the group of the Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Network of reciprocal help with respect to the practice of groomsmen . . Network of reciprocal help with respect to funeral and mourning rites . . Network of kinship and marriage ties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The organization of the group of the Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The chronological framework of the Tannaitic Sages . . . . . . . . . . . Honorific titles within the ranks of the Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Network of cooperation in the formal institutions . . . . . . . . . . . . . The intimate circle of the Havura and beit ha’midrash . . . . . . . . . . . The relationship between the Master and his Disciple . . . . . . . . . . . Inner tension between the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin . . . . . . . . . . Were the Sages an elite group during the Tannaitic period? . . . . . . . The politics of elite culture: The particular and universal culture . . . . The particular culture of the Tannaitic Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The universal culture of the Tannaitic Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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141 141 142 143 154 158 163 163 164 166 169 170 170 173 176 181 185 192 198 202 203 212

CONTENTS

The art of perpetuating political power by privileged groups . . . . . . . . . . “History is a graveyard of aristocracies” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The relationship between a privileged united minority and a diverse majority . . The politics of the Sages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

219 219 220 222

CHAPTER FOUR. The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz Mapping the social identity “Haverim” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The identity of the social category Haver in relation to the group of the Sages . Mapping the social identity “ ‘Am ha’aretz” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Am ha’aretz: A social stratum, a social group, or a social category? . . . . . . ‘Am ha’aretz as a stigmatized social category . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The relationship between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz according to the Babylonian Talmud . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The portrayal of ‘Am ha’aretz according to the Jerusalem Talmud . . . . . . The relationship between the Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz and the Haverim as described in the Tannaitic literature . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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225 227 232 236 237

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CHAPTER FIVE. The self-awareness of the Sages as constituters of the counter-hegemony Theoretical consideration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hegemony versus counter-hegemony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Postcolonialism — the phenomenon of mimicry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “The art of resistance” — open and hidden transcripts . . . . . . . . . . . Sages’ skins, Priests’ masks: The desire of the slave to be like his Master Open rebellion: Confrontation with the Priestly hegemonic discourse . . Open and hidden transcripts — the practice of separating tithes . . . . . . Sages’ skins, Priests’ masks — resistance as an act of imitation . . . . . . . Sages’ skins, Priests’ masks — the desire to occupy the Master’s place . . .

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. . . . . . . . . Imitation as an act of resistance: Eating unconsecrated food in ritual purity .

CHAPTER SIX. Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony? Sages versus Priests — a new social order or a mimicry of existing priestly hegemonic representation? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . New social reform: Personal achievement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dialectical tension between imitation and resistance . . . . . . . . . . . . Social hierarchy and symbolic order according to genealogical attribution . The weight of family attribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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251 251 253 255 257 257 259 262 264 270

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273 276 277 283 286

Inheritance or personal achievement? The role of Torah study in relation to social stratification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288 Cultural capital and nepotism as a means of centralizing power by the privileged group . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289

CONTENTS

Summary and conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294 Afterword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Glossary of Hebrew terms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Translation of primary sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 Index of References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Index of Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 336 Index of Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344

FOREWORD

Sigalit Ben-Zion’s “A Roadmap to the Heavens” is an important study of the formation of that elite — the “Sages”, the “Hazal” which crystallized in the first three centuries of the common era and became hegemonic in Jewish society in the late antiquity and which were the precursors of the Rabbinical elite which was hegemonic in Jewish history from the Middle Ages up to the modern era. The analysis of the formation of these groups is, of course, of great importance for the understanding of Jewish history, but Ben-Zion’s analysis is of interest also from some more general analytical points of view. First of all, it constitutes a fascinating analysis of the formation of a distinct type of “literary academic” elite — an elite of studying and learning — as it struggled against the priestly hegemony in Jewish society in the second Temple era. It provides a detailed analysis of the processes — such as by promulgation of distinct ways of life, of behavior and clothing, and by attempts to appropriate the major themes and symbols of the constitution of Jewish collective identity — through which this elite attempted to assert its distinctiveness from the priestly group and also from broader social groups. At the same time, it developed new relations with the other ‘broader’ strata — opening up in principle, as against the hereditary priestly groups, even if not in practice, to all of them, but on condition that they accept its premises, above all the emphasis on studying and learning as the major framework of Jewish collective identity and vision. It is interesting to compare these processes with the formation of the Chinese literati — the only other literary or academic elite to become hegemonic in a Great Civilization — albeit in the framework of a relatively compact and continual Empire which was closely interwoven with the Imperial bureaucracy — as against the semi-colonial situations in Palestine which became a province in the Roman Empire and the later territorially dispersed Jewish communities in the different diasporas in which the Rabbinical elite was to a large, although not total extent, dissociation from the centers of political power of their “host” society. x

Foreword

But some of the major differences between these two “literary academic” elites can be attributed not only to differences in the geopolitical factors of their existence, but also to the different patterns of their legitimation. Here of special interest is the relation of the “Sages” to the priestly elites. The Sages did not invalidate the basic themes of Jewish collective identity, such as being the chosen people, having a distinct covenantal relation with God, and being called upon to fulfill God’s law. They presented themselves as continuing these themes but putting them in the framework of study and learning which became the major arena of the implementation of their collective visions. At the same time they allowed the priestly groups to maintain some albeit highly restricted aspects of their hegemony — such as, for instance, their monopoly of certain special blessings in the synagogues service, being the first to be called to the reading of the Torah, and keeping their genealogical purity and closure. This fact bears on some of the most interesting aspects of Jewish continuity — one of the most important of which one was the multifaceted dimensions of the major Jewish symbols — as can be seen, for instance, in the fact that the Land of Israel was defined both in primordial terms as the Land of the Fathers and in sacred ones as the land chosen or given by God, or in the constitution of the Jewish collectivity in terms both of descent from the Patriarchs and as constituted a special covenant with God. Such multifaceted or multivalent definitions of the major symbols and themes of collective identity enabled the continual reinterpretation of themes without necessarily creating a total break between the different groups promulgating such interpretations. Indeed, such multifaceted interpretations of these major themes with the emphasis on a common symbolic framework when combined with the relative openness of this elite, as shown in this book constitutes an important clue to the understanding of Jewish continuity. Thus indeed, this book provides important indications for the analysis of a crucial period of Jewish history, for the understanding of some of the major aspects of Jewish Civilization, and for the comparative study of hegemonies in Great Civilizations. S.N. Eisenstadt

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have dedicated three years of my life to the creation of this monograph. It goes without saying that this work has not been created ex nihilo. It is the product of an ongoing interaction with teachers, friends, and colleagues. There are some I especially have to thank. Professor Frode Jacobsen for initiating me into the fascinating world of anthropology and providing me with the required knowledge and tools. Without his enthusiastic support in the choice of my thesis subject and his show of confidence in me, I would not have been able to embark on this journey. He was not only an advisor but also a friend, showing patience, warmth, and openness in our endless discussions. Professor Jarl Ulrichsen with his microscopic vision raised the standard of this work. I was impressed by his open-mindedness in support of my interdisciplinary approach. Even though Tannaitic literature is not his forte, I was often amazed at his insightful remarks with regard both to content and language. In my eyes, this is the mark of a true scholar. Professor Ze’ev Safrai introduced me to the complex world of the Tannaitic Sages. His enthusiasm and his acceptance of my approach was a constant source of reassurance for me. With his impressive knowledge, he gave me many ideas and the intellectual freedom to develop and integrate them into an autonomous creation. To these three scholars I owe a deep debt of gratitude. Several people have — especially during the last few years — encouraged me to believe that I have something to contribute to the world of scholarship. In the solitude of writing their support was greatly appreciated. They include Professor Shmuel Eisenstadt, Professor Nissan Robin, Professor Charles Taylor, Professor Leif Manger, Professor Yngve Lithman, Professor Bruce Kapferer, Professor Eyal Ben Ari, Professor Gananath Obeyesekere, Professor Andre Gingrich, Professor Ann Norton, Professor Tariq Modood, Professor Shaye J. D. Cohen, Dr. Sheli Goldberg, Dr. Liora Ravid, and Professor Amos Kloner. There are two academic institutions I would like to thank especially, Bar-Ilan University and Bergen University. Both of these stimulating academic environments provided many fruitful ongoing interactions and conversations xii

Acknowledgments

with scholars and peers. Each of them contributed yet another colored stone to the mosaic of my knowledge, or added yet more depth to my understanding and insight. I especially want to thank the scholars at IMER (International Migration and Ethnic Relations) and its Director, Lithman, who encouraged me to continue with my research and to publish this book, especially Professor Bruce Kapferer, Dr. Mette Andersson, Dr. Hakan Sicakkan, Dr. Anne Bang, and Dr. Knut Hidle. The scholarship awarded by the Norwegian Teachers Academy is very gratefully acknowledged. Special thanks go to Arthur Livingstone who fine tuned my manuscript and taught me that language is more than words. His delicate discernment and sophisticated choice of expressions exposed me to a new and undiscovered landscape of ideas and made me aware that we scholars invest enormous effort to acquire the “academic tools” we need to develop and create noble ideas, yet often disregard the importance of acquiring the linguistic tools to help us communicate them. I also would like to express my gratitude to Academic Studies Press, Kira and Igor Nemirovsky, who were exceptionally kind and encouraged me to accelerate the process of distributing the manuscript. Dr. Simcha Fishbane had great faith in the book and was most enthusiastic about publishing it. Angela Levkina did an excellent job on the technical part and endured the hardship of shaping and reshaping the manuscript. Last but not least, to my dear family for their love, encouragement, and support. Special thanks go to my mother, Tova, who taught me the true nature of love, freedom, and tolerance. Special thanks go to my mother, Tova, who taught me the true nature of love, freedom, and tolerance. The ultimate acknowledgment goes to the Invisible One who in very visible ways enabled me to fulfill this academic dream. Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources have been copied (Hebrew-Aramaic) directly from the Bar-Ilan University Responsa Project (CD version 10). These sources have been translated by a Talmudic scholar, using Neusner’s translation as a point of departure. Every effort has been made to keep the translation as literal as possible. Where needed, words of clarification have been inserted in square brackets.

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A ROADMAP TO THE HEAVENS AN ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDY OF HEGEMONY AMONG PRIESTS, SAGES, AND LAYMEN

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Introduction and methodological considerations

2

Introduction and methodological considerations

THE PURPOSE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF THIS RESEARCH “We are here to give an account of the human condition.” Professor Harald Edheim, a social anthropologist

The task of this monograph is to reexamine the social map of the Tannaitic period using anthropologically oriented tools. The main focus is on the self-presentation and self-perception of the Tannaitic Sages as an elite group in Jewish society and their presentation of significant others, namely the Priests and common people known as ‘Am ha’aretz. The book explores the rich and complex relationships among the Sages, Priests, and laymen who competed in social, cultural, and political arenas for hegemony. In addition, the book examines the sociological, anthropological, and psychological mechanisms involved in the processes of elite formation and its legitimation; the constitution of cultural hegemony and its ideology; the establishment of counter-hegemony and its legitimation; and center-periphery relations. Unlike previous scholarship which describes the relationship between the Priests and the Sages as a struggle between two elites in which the Sages eventually gained the upper hand resulting in an exchange of elites, I will demonstrate that this was not merely a displacement of the priestly elite by a new scholarly elite, but an ongoing antithetical struggle characterized by conflictual psychological mechanisms, such as attraction—rejection, imitation—denial, and cooperation— resistance. Thus, even in the process of resistance and disengagement from the Priestly hegemony, the Sages cannot free themselves from the bondage of the priestly discourse and praxis. Furthermore, the investigation of previous scholarship raises some methodological problems. The majority of scholars use exclusively historical and philological tools. The result is that the Jewish society under discussion has been described by them in rather static, definite, simple, and fixed categorical terms. Their presentation of the relationship between the Sages, Priests, and ‘Am ha’aretz is described as dichotomic and antagonistic. This monograph offers an alternate gestalt which opens the door to a new mapping of social identities, one that is multi-dimensional and involves numerous and complex social processes simultaneously at work. Social identity and social change are the outcome of a long-term negotiation based on imitation, 3

CHAPTER ONE

confrontation, and cooperation with “significant others” who compete in social and political arenas. The challenge of this monograph is to use the knowledge of previous scholarly examination in a more selective manner and to add a new dimension, namely an anthropological perspective. By employing different models and paradigms from social and anthropological theories, new insights about social relations and identities are made possible, enabling me to uncover the richness, complexity, and patterns of these relationships (see discussion under “research methods and their contribution”).

4

Introduction and methodological considerations

MAPPING THE SOCIAL IDENTITY: “PRIESTS,” “SAGES,” AND “ ‘AM HA’ARETZ”

Due to the complexity of this research, which focuses on diverse social categories, such as Sages, Priests, ‘Am ha’aretz, etc., only a general outline of research literature can be presented here; a comprehensive summary will be given in each appropriate chapter. Mapping the social identity “Priests” There is a consensus among scholars that the class of the Priests constituted the socio-religious and political power throughout the Second Temple period. It is, however, disputed whether they continued to exist as a social group after the destruction of the Temple and whether they maintained their political power. 1. Some scholars suggest that with the destruction of the Temple, the Priests quickly lost their political power as a result of their polemic with the group of the Sages. Those who subscribe to the point of view that the Sages were an elite group suggest that there was a struggle between the Sages and the Priests, (or between the Pharisees and the Sadducees), which is described as a struggle between two elites that had already begun during the Second Temple. With the destruction of the Temple, the Sages gained the upper hand, resulting in an exchange of elites (Alon 1989:21; Levine 1989; Yankelevitch 1983; Bar-Ilan 1982; Z. Safrai 1999b:51–53, 94; S. Safrai and Z. Safrai, in print; Regev 1999; Nakman 2004:24–25). 2. An alternative suggestion has been offered: the Priests continued to play a significant role in the socio-religious and political spheres in the Jewish community, not as an organized and distinct group but as a class whose members belonged to different groups, e.g. they worked within the group of the Sages (Büchler1966; Trifon 1985). 3. Other scholars (e.g. Baron) hinted that the Priests continued to retain their socio-religious and political influence as a collective for several centuries after the destruction of the Temple (Baron 1958:259, n. 36; cf. Kimelman 1983; S. Cohen 1990). 5

CHAPTER ONE

Mapping the social identity “Sages” When mapping the social identity of the Tannaitic Sages, scholars disagree whether the Tannaitic Sages were an elite group and if so, to what extent they exerted political power. Three distinct approaches can be discerned: 1. Those who suggest that the Sages were an elite group and maintain that the Tannaitic Sages were highly involved in the daily affairs of society and had substantial influence on their own society in political, cultural, and religious spheres, emphasize that their political power was limited (Alon 1989; Z. Safrai, unpublished: “Judaism Outside Beit Ha’midrash”). 2. Goodman (1983) suggests that the Sages were an elite group but were characterized by social separatism between them and the general public (also known as ‘Am ha’aretz). The relationship between the two is characterized by animosity (Goodman 1983; cf. Levine 1989). In general, when mapping the political relations between the Sages and other competing elite groups in Jewish society, Levine (1989) suggests that there was hardly any interaction between them. 3. S. J. D. Cohen (1999) rejects the notion that the Sages were an elite group or had any leading position in Jewish society. Moreover, the Sages did not by any means control the religious, cultural, or civil life of this period. Like Goodman and Levine, he suggests that there was a social gap between the Sages and the masses, with hardly any social interaction. Mapping the social identity ‘Am ha’aretz The social identity of ‘Am ha’aretz is the most debated issue amongst scholars. However, there is a striking consensus in that ‘Am ha’aretz is perceived as belonging to the lower social classes of Jewish society and that the relationship between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz during the Tannaitic period was characterized by mutual animosity. Over the last two centuries, many scholars have offered various theories to explain the nature of the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Sages: 1. Zeitlin (1932) suggested that Jewish society was comprised of two classes: ‘Am ha’aretz, who constituted the lower class of Jewish society and stood in contrast to the ruling group, first represented by the class of the Priests and later by the Haverim (the forerunners of the Sages). The relationship between the two classes is characterized by antagonism, with little if any other interaction between them. 2. Büchler’s (1964) extensive research yielded a novel interpretation. He suggested that the term ‘Am ha’aretz denotes two distinct categories: (i) ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah and (ii) ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot. The first denotes those who were ignorant of the Torah, the latter refers to those halakhic areas which ‘Am ha’aretz was suspected of not observing according to the Sages’ norms. Büchler 6

Introduction and methodological considerations

further postulated that ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah was a term used over different periods, whereas the ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot was coined during the period of Usha (approximately 135 C.E.) and was located in Galilee. Büchler’s focus was on the latter category. 3. Urbach (1975) reversed Büchler’s basic division: (i) ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot originated much earlier than Büchler suggested, during the last decades of the Second Temple, and not in the Galilee, but mainly in Judea. The members of ‘Am ha’aretz, who came from the lower classes, stood in contrast to the Haverim, who formed the upper class in Jewish society and were meticulously observant of separation of tithes and of ritual purity. However, despite the hostility between the two, there was some limited interaction between them. (ii) ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah emerged only after the destruction of the Temple and denotes the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Disciples of the Sages who constituted the upper class of Jewish society. Again, the relationship between the two is characterized by animosity. 4. Oppenheimer’s (1977) extensive and systematic treatise “The ‘Am HaAretz” is perhaps the most influential work among modern scholars. He follows Urbach to a large extent and adds the following ideas: ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah can be subdivided into two periods: (i) from the period of Usha until the end of the Tannaitic period and (ii) from the third century onward. During the period of Usha, study of Torah was the focal point of Jewish life. This was the cause of the animosity between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz. The group of the Sages at this time developed an awareness as an elite group that was intellectual in character and was in sharp contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz, who came from a lower class and were ignorant with regard to the study of Torah. From the third century onward, ‘Am ha’aretz began to receive more recognition in the area of ethics as a “healthy social component” in Jewish society. As a consequence, there was more interaction between the groups. Another perspective worth mentioning is that modern scholars of social history assume that there were two prevailing and conflicting systems of social stratification; on the one hand, closed social stratification based on family attribution, which was composed of the priestly class and dominated by it. On the other hand, an open social stratification based on personal achievement, represented by the group of the Sages. The existing social order based on genealogical attribution gradually lost its significance, and personal achievement based on Torah studies became more and more dominant in Jewish society (Büchler 1966; Yankelevitch 1983; Z. Safrai 1983; Trifon 1985; Bar-Ilan 2000 and others). 7

CHAPTER ONE

RESEARCH METHODS AND THEIR CONTRIBUTION

Qualitative textual research: The dialectic between diachronic and synchronic approach This monograph is based on qualitative textual research. In order to achieve a high degree of refinement in the text analysis it is necessary to use the diachronic and synchronic approach: (a) The diachronic (or particularistic) approach presupposes that every text is produced in a certain context and therefore one needs to ask under what circumstances it was produced. It examines persistent social structures (e.g. religious, cultural, and stratified structures) as well as the material culture (e.g. dress code, building style, burial system, etc.). On the other hand, it also examines the social, political, and religious changes that a particular society undergoes over time. (b) The synchronic approach (also known as the anthropological interpretation), presupposes that the observation of certain social phenomena, by necessity, involves comparison to other similar social phenomena, which exist in other cultures regardless of time and space. In that sense, the synchronic analysis is both trans-historical and universal.

Anthropological perspective It should be noted, that the synchronic approach uses a number of different models and paradigms from social and anthropological theories. These include: — Tajfel and Turner on social identity theory, Geertz on negotiating primordial identities, Barth on social groups and cultural boundaries — in order to examine the important role of significant others in the process of generating cultural identity. — Foucault’s theory on discourse and its praxis, Bourdieu on cultural capital and habitus, Funkenstein and Steinsaltz on protected knowledge — in order to discover the techniques of power perpetuated by the hegemony. 8

Introduction and methodological considerations

— A. Cohen’s of the particular and universal culture of elite, Pareto and Mosca on the political empowerment of an elite group — in order to discover how political power is perpetuated by the elite group. — Gramsci’s theory that examines how the group that constitutes the counter-hegemony experiences comprehensive interaction with the hegemonic group, based on assimilation and conquest. — The postcolonial theory represented by Fanon and Bhabha, which focuses on the process of imitation between the rulers and the ruled, simultaneously creating cooperation with the hegemonic discourse and praxis and resistance to it. The present research: (a) offers new patterns of thinking which enable me to structure our findings and interpret them accordingly; (b) enables me to develop new research questions and hypotheses from a theoretical framework that can either be validated or rejected; (c) enables me to develop a cumulative theory, meaning that by applying the theory to our particular field I can further develop it by gaining new insights that can also be applied to other societies.

Anthropological processes and concepts As we have seen, until now the social mapping of Jewish society under discussion has been described in rather fixed categorical terms. The contribution of this monograph is to show that this mapping is in fact multi-dimensional and involves numerous and complex social processes simultaneously at work. Due to their complexity, these processes cannot be adequately described here; however, the following examples will give us a glimpse of the complexity of creating group identity: I. Negotiating the priestly primordial identities in a micro-macro context Scholars tend to portray the identity of the Priests in rather static and monolithic terms. For example, they are portrayed either as cooperating with foreign elements such as the Greek and Roman empires, and consequently more lenient with regard to the observance of Mosaic law, or as meticulous in its observance. This monograph offers an alternate gestalt that describes the identity of the Priests in more dynamic, fluid, and negotiable terms. This new paradigm will be achieved partly through the theory of the social anthropologist Geertz (1994) regarding primordial identity, i.e. assumed blood ties, local language, regional affiliation, or religion. Geertz suggests that when there is conflict between a minority group and the greater state, there are two possible reactions: 9

CHAPTER ONE

(i) Confrontation — the members of the group become more attached to primordial bonds, such as biological relationship, race, language, politicoreligious affiliations, locality, customs, particular social practice, and tradition. (ii) Cooperation and imitation — the members of the group are willing to relinquish one type of primordial bond or another in order to achieve benefits, such as political stability, prosperity, peace, domination, etc. This means that a minority group is willing to downplay some of its more restricted loyalties to its ethnic identity and to be more loyal to the secular government, in order to gain a certain degree of autonomy, political power, other privileges, and material wealth. The application of this theory and others to the group of Priests will demonstrate that the group had multiple identities, depending on the context. Thus, in the macro context, they may have used Greek names and language, and adopted special manners, etiquette, and dress code to indicate sympathy and intimate cooperation with the foreign aristocracy, whereas in the micro context, they would use Hebrew names, language, and dress code. II. The historical construction of the Tannaitic Sages History is a crucial element in the creation of identity. To quote the social anthropologist Friedman: “The people without history … are the people who have been prevented from identifying themselves for others” (Friedman 1994:177). As a result, constructing group history is a selective process. Our past does not present itself to us in ready-made packages that we may utilize to establish our personal or group identity. By necessity, we must pick and choose elements of our past that strengthen our sense of continuity. Other elements we had best forget, since selecting them would undermine our project of identity management. Unlike Priests, kings, and members of the aristocracy, whose past is well documented in the hegemonic narrative of Jewish history, the Tannaitic Sages lacked this recognition of their past, necessary to enable them to claim their right to leadership within the Jewish establishment. In order to legitimize their current position as an authoritative elite group they had to “invent” a distant past, portraying for themselves and others an apt picture of their common historical identity and cultural origin, sometimes even extending back to Abraham. These processes will be investigated in my monograph. III. The generation of counter-hegemony involves the dialectic process of imitation and resistance Gramsci (an Italian Marxist and political theorist), observed that the transformation of a new consciousness created by the counter-hegemony does not occur ex nihilo but within an already defined world. This means that in the process of generating a new hegemony, the members who represent the oppo10

Introduction and methodological considerations

sitional group do not “erase” the existing social conventions, which are perpetuated by the dominant group, but rather rearticulate and reinterpret them: “The objective ideological system struggle is not to reject the system and all its components but to rearticulate it, break it down to its basic elements and then to sift through past conceptions to see which one, with some changes of content, can serve to express the new situation. Once this is done, the chosen elements are finally rearticulated into another system” (Mouffe 1981:192). In my monograph I will show how the Sages utilized the above-described processes of assimilation and conquered the hegemonic discourse and praxis characteristic of the group of the Priests, thus creating a new hegemonic order which to a great extent resembled the older one. Social concepts, i.e. social stratification, class, social group, and social category, have been applied, if at all, by scholars in an imprecise way. In the following section, I will provide a more precise discussion and preliminary conceptual framework of these social concepts. The usage of class in relation to social stratification The concept “class” is frequently employed by social historians working with social relationships within classical Jewish society. For this reason, it is impossible for any scholar studying intra-group and inter-group relations in this society to avoid the concept and the earlier debates among these scholars regarding its applicability. Moreover, it seems that the usage of the class concept in these earlier studies is not employed with precision or with any theoretical refinement (cf. Zeitlin 1932; Urbach 1969; 1975; Stern 1976b; Alon 1989; Oppenheimer 1977; Tropper 1972/3; Bar-Ilan 2000; Trifon 1985; Levine 1989 and others). As a result of this lack of awareness of the way the concept is used, the nature of the social relations they aim to describe is confusing rather than illuminating. The examples below will illustrate this point: Zeitlin described Jewish society as a class society in a more classical Marxist sense: The farmers who cultivated the land are identified as ‘Am ha’aretz. The class of aristocrats is first represented by the Priests and the Levites, and later by the Haverim. In a similar manner, Oppenheimer views the Sages as constituting the upper class of Jewish society. Alon too, defined the Sages as a “ ‘class’ which incorporates within itself a heritage of scholarship and dignity, some sort of spiritual and professional aristocracy” (Alon 1977:437; cf. Oppenheimer 1977:18; Urbach 1969; Levine 1989). Whereas Zeitlin described the ‘Ammei ha’aretz as a class of farmers, Oppenheimer’s description of ‘Am ha’aretz is ambiguous. On the one hand, he does not define them at all as a class: “The amei haretz are to be seen as a social stream which belonged to no defined class and had no separate organizational framework” (Oppenheimer 1977:21). On the other hand, he often repeats the idea that they came from the lower classes. For example, he writes that the 11

CHAPTER ONE

term ‘Am ha’aretz is used by the Sages “as a derogatory designation of one at the bottom of the social ladder” (ibid. 12). Regarding the Priests, I also find ambiguity. Trifon (1985) defines the Priests as a class, yet identifies an inner hierarchy within this class consisting of High Priests, lay Priests, aristocrats, and farmers. She states that there was an ideological and material discrepancy between the oligarchy of the High Priests (and their families) and the lay Priests. She also suggests that the Priests are to be found in different groups before the destruction of the Temple, such as the Sadducees, the Pharisees, the Qumran Community, and the Fourth Philosophy (the Zealots and the Sicariis).1 After the destruction, she suggests that the Priests retained their power only as individuals within the group of Sages. At the same time, she refers to the Priests as a distinct group. The above summary demonstrates the trend in research of describing Jewish society in Marxist terms of class, i.e. a basic division into classes: the ruling class represented by the Sages and the ruled class represented by ‘Am ha’aretz, who are mainly from the lower classes of Jewish society. We also see how the lack of precision and a conceptual framework creates inconsistencies and confusion in mapping the structure of Jewish society and its group identities. A preliminary conceptual discussion is therefore in order. Definition of concepts: a. Social category A social category is defined by anthropologists as a particular collection of culturally relevant attributes. The basic attributes which constitute a social category are often gender, ethnic origin, age, and profession, such as men, women, Jews, lawyers, prostitutes, etc. (Keesing 1981:213). However, attributes of a certain social category may vary from culture to culture. Seymour-Smith (1986:34) adds that a social category is often created by the other, whom she calls the “observer.” The observer is the one who creates the classification of a person according to a characteristic or characteristics selected by that observer. Thus, the social category exists in the mind of the observer, not in the mind of the one who is being observed. It will be demonstrated, in the case of the social category ‘Am ha’aretz, that the Sages are the “observers” who classify certain others as ‘Am ha’aretz according to specific cultural traits. b. Social group A social group shares the following main features: (i) The group may have a consciousness of their common identity, perceiving themselves as belonging to the same group. The group members are aware of 1

12

Scholars are in dispute with regard to the identification of the Fourth Philosophy with the Zealots and the Sicarii. For scholarly discussion and bibliography see Levine 1976; Stern 1976a.

Introduction and methodological considerations

their membership in the group and at the same time they are identified by others as belonging to the group. (ii) Group members interact and influence each other, and their interdependency is structured by certain roles and status.2 (iii) Group members usually share certain cultural symbols that are taught by the members of the in-group, by which they recognize one another. These may be cultural traits such as values, specific practices, beliefs, world views, and common interests. (iv) The social groups are formally organized. What distinguishes a social group from a temporary gathering is its organization, and the group may develop a highly structured organization. It should be pointed out that whereas a group, by definition, is also a category, since it must have common cultural attributes, a social category is not necessarily a group until it develops self awareness. It will be shown that whereas ‘Am ha’aretz is only a social category, the Priests and Sages are to be perceived not only as social categories but also as groups. Indeed, I will be focusing on their attributes as social groups. c. Class I will be considering three definitions of class: 1) Social class according to the feudal system Feudalism, according to Seymour-Smith (1986), is mostly defined by social scientists in relation to ownership of land. She states that in “European feudalism, the granting of land as a reward for a military service and political loyalty, (the “fief ”) formed the basis of a network of lord and vassals, of such complexity that the vassals of the great lord become lords in their own right to lesser vassals” (ibid. 116). Several social theorists define feudalism as a model for social structure in a way that can be used as a description of many societies. As an example, in many peasant studies, class relations are defined as based on the extraction of surplus from the peasant producer by the landholding class in general: “The essential characteristic of feudalism for these analysts is thus the fact that political power was based on the ownership of land, enabling the landholder to extract surplus from the producer” (ibid. 116; cf. Ganshof 1964; Wolf 1966). As will be shown, one cannot speak about classical Jewish society as a feudal system, neither in the old historical sense of Medieval Europe nor in the extended, modern sense of peasant studies. Was ancient Israel a feudal system? I will argue that ancient Israel did not share many features of a feudal system. First of all, land did not only belong to one or two privileged groups. Secondly, 2

This does not necessarily imply that each member interacts with every other member. 13

CHAPTER ONE

the patron-client relationships that we find in, for example, feudal societies in Medieval Europe was absent in Jewish society in antiquity. 2) Social class according to Marx Marx does not provide us with a definition, rather he describes various features of a social class (see e.g. Giddens 1981:29): (i) Class is defined primarily by material criteria, where people’s relation to means of production, like land, money, and labor defines their position in the social order. At the top of the social hierarchy one has the class with exclusive ownership of the means of production, including the labor of the working force. (ii) Social relations of production: As a consequence of the criterion of unequal distribution of material wealth, at the bottom are the members of the proletariat forced to sell their labor. (iii) Class is not only defined in relation to means of production, but also in relation to the important idea of class consciousness, meaning that all members of a given class share a notion of a common fate and destiny. (iv) Marx also stressed that those who own the material resources also define the cultural values of the society: “The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas: i.e., the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force” (Marx and Engels 1984:64). Was ancient Israel a class society in a classical Marxist sense? Classical Jewish society did not share such a class division based on people’s relation to the means of production, like ownership of land (as described in the first three features). Furthermore, the ‘Am ha’aretz, whoever they were, certainly did not share any class consciousness, as is argued in chapter 4, pp. 232–241. I suggest that a class society based on Marx’s theory is insufficient for this present examination. Neither the Priests nor the Sages nor ‘Am ha’aretz can be defined as belonging to a class according to the above definition. However, the last feature of social class emphasized by Marx, regarding the correlation between the elements of material and intellectual force in the social arena, is to a great degree applicable to the Sages and the Priests, and is a highly useful guideline to the examination of classical Jewish society. 3) Social class according to Bourdieu The French anthropologist and sociologist Bourdieu, however, suggested a powerful and productive alternative to Marx’s theory of class. Bourdieu’s main critique of Marx’s analysis is that he relegates the world to a “one-dimensional space” consisting exclusively of the economic field. Bourdieu suggested that the social world is a “multi-dimensional space” which consists of forms other than economic capital, such as cultural, symbolic, 14

Introduction and methodological considerations

and social capital (Bourdieu 1987). These forms of capital have an inherent connection, in the sense that one type of capital can be converted to another form of capital. In his article “What Makes a Social Class?” Bourdieu further clarified the relationship between these forms of capital: The social world can be conceived as a multidimensional space that can be constructed empirically … It follows that the structure of this space is given by the distribution of various forms of capital … These fundamental social powers are, according to my empirical investigations, firstly economic capital, in its various kind; secondly cultural capital or better, informal capital, again in its different kinds; and thirdly two forms of capital that are very strongly correlated, social capital, which consists of resources based on connections and group membership, and symbolic capital, which is the form the different types of capital take once they are perceived and recognized as legitimate (Bourdieu 1987:3–4).

Accordingly, Bourdieu sought to refine Marx’s notion of class, which is basically understood in terms of ownership or non-ownership of means of production. Bourdieu instead gives a new meaning which encompasses his multidimensional approach to capital. Class is defined as sets of social agents occupying similar positions in the social environment and probably possessing similar life chances, dispositions, interests, etc., probably producing the same practice (Bourdieu 1987; 2002). Bourdieu further elaborated his theory and suggested that social agents of the same class have common properties in a number of respects. At the same time, a given class is distinct from other classes in a great number of respects (1987). His theory of cultural capital will be further examined later in this monograph and I will demonstrate its applicability to the group of the Sages. Was ancient Israel a class in Bourdieu’s sense? I will show that the Priests and the Sages can each be viewed as a class in Bourdieu’s sense. Namely, even though they did not share the same economic capital they did share the same cultural capital, i.e. Torah knowledge and structure of opportunities. Thus, I will be using class in Bourdieu’s sense and group (as defined above) interchangeably. The application of these terms to ‘Am ha’aretz is considerably more complex and will be treated later. There are two related questions that will be addressed in the appropriate place: (1) Was the social system a class-like system based on merit or was it a more closed system based on family attribution? (See chapter 6). (2) Was Israel a caste-like system? (See chapter 2, pp. 77–78).

15

CHAPTER ONE

Selection of sources The Tannaitic period (70 C.E. — 220 C.E.) is the focus of this monograph. Since I will analyze different social processes relating to the issue of group identity and group interaction, it will also be necessary to examine the prior period (late Second Temple period). The main sources commonly used by scholars of the above period are Josephus, Philo of Alexandria, and the New Testament. (For a detailed discussion and bibliography see Stern 1974:17–29; De Jonge 1976.) In order to examine the continuity and change of certain social processes, it will also be necessary to examine the period immediately following, namely the Amoraitic period (220 C.E. — 500 C.E. approximately). The main sources accepted by scholars of this period are the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmud. Regarding the Tannaitic sources, I will be using the Tannaitic corpora: Mishna, Tosefta, Mekhilta (on Exodus), Sifra (on Leviticus), Sifre Numbers, Sifre Deuteronomy, and Abot de Rabbi Natan. There is a general consensus that all Tannaitic sources were composed not later than the third century. (For discussion and bibliography see Gluska 1999:20–22.) A discussion on the use of these sources is required with regard to two main aspects: 1) The Talmudic sources as reliable sources and 2) the distinction between Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources. 1) The Talmudic sources as reliable sources Much has been written about the historical authenticity of Talmudic sources; only a brief summary will be given here. From the outset (19th century), opinion has swayed like a pendulum from one extreme of attributing uncontested historical reliability to Talmudic sources to a considerably more cautious questioning of the credibility of the sources. Today there are two basic approaches. Neusner (1981) ascribes very little historic credibility to the Talmudic sources; indeed he rejects the possibility of separating the original text from its later redaction. Additionally, he views each tractate as a distinct autonomous unit redacted by different editors. Z. Safrai takes a less extreme approach. He argues that Talmudic texts can reveal history if critical tools are employed in their reading. (For the full debate see Neusner 1999; Z. Safrai 1999a; 1995:16–21; see also S. Safrai 1983b; Gafni 2001; Shapira 2001:19–31; Shremer 2003:23–29.) The above debate has less bearing on the present monograph, as my main focus is to investigate the self-presentation and self-perception of the Sages and significant others. However, historical reality will have relevance for me when I map society (the social structure, group formation, group interactions, etc.). 16

Introduction and methodological considerations

For example, Talmudic sources provide much information regarding the rights and obligations of the Priests with respect to different issues, such as laws of purity and impurity, the Temple service and its organization, family attribution, and marital rules. I will be focusing less on the information per se and more on the Sages’ attitude reflected in their interpretation and use of this information to strengthen their political status and undermine the status of the Priests. The Sages interpret these facts in a way that supports their own political agenda of blurring the priestly status and strengthening their own as the sole elite leading society, which the Jewish public (‘Am ha’aretz) seems to accept. 2) A distinction between Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources Unlike previous scholarly examination which used the Mishnaic and Talmudic sources interchangeably, I will be using the literary material in a more selective manner, clearly differentiating between bona-fide Tannaitic sources and Amoraitic sources and even Tannaitic sources quoted by Amoraitic sources. This method is based on the assumption that the Tannaitic sources reflect more reliably the historical reality of the Tannatic period (from late Second Temple to the second century) than the later Amoraitic sources. The Amoraitic corpora There are two exceptions where I have allowed myself the circumspect use of Amoraitic sources: 1) I will use the Amoraitic sources when they indicate a continuation of specific social processes, as in the case of social stratification according to family attribution, specific practices that were upheld by the group of the Priests and the Sages, etc. (For a similar methodological orientation regarding the usage of Talmudic texts see Rubin 1997:20–21.) 2) There is a striking similarity between the Talmudic sources and the New Testament in two areas: (a) The portrayal of the Pharisees in the New Testament and the portrayal of the Sages in the Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature. (b) The portrayal of Master-Disciple relationships. One cannot ignore the type of relationship which ostensibly existed between the Sages and their Disciples as described in the Talmudic literature, and the relationship between Jesus and his Disciples as described in the New Testament.

17

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

18

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

THE COMPOSITION OF THE GROUP OF THE PRIESTS

Most scholars agree that the Priests constituted the socio-religious leadership of Jewish society throughout the Second Temple period. It is, however, disputed whether they continued to exist as a social group after the destruction of the Temple and if so to what extent they retained their status as a privileged group. Some scholars suggest that the Priests gradually lost their identity as a social group as a result of their polemic with the Sages. Alon hinted that: “Even after the destruction of the Temple, the Priests did not automatically lose their social importance, or drop their group cohesiveness all at once” (Alon 1989:21). In the same spirit, S. Safrai and Z. Safrai (in print) argue that the period of Jabneh is the period of transition and it was during it that the main conflict between the Priests and the Sages took place. As a result of this polemic the Priests lost their social and religious influence. Elsewhere, Z. Safrai explains the exchange of elites after the destruction of the Temple in the following manner: “The Sages assumed leadership of the people in the socio-religious sphere and a new leadership in the active study houses was crystallized, new rules were laid down, and the people were obliged to act according to them. Until now the Priests had led the people…From now on they have lost their leading position and in Judaea the exchange of elites has taken place” (Z. Safrai 1999b:53).1 Alternatively, it has been suggested that the Priests continued to play a significant role in the socio-religious and political spheres of the Jewish community for several centuries after the destruction of the Temple, not as an organized group, but as a class whose members belonged to different groups, including being active within the group of the Sages (Büchler 1966; Trifon 1985; Goodblatt 1983).2 1 2

The translation from Hebrew is by the present author. Goodblatt shares a similar idea to that of Trifon: “Regarding the high priesthood, the position was terminated in the year 70, but not the priesthood. Priestly courses continued to exist (for a few centuries) as did the offering of tithes to the Priests. Furthermore, we will see that the Priests continued to play an important role in public Jewish life in Judea. There is no shortage of examples of the continuation of priestly government despite the absence of the Temple, for example the Sumerans and Qumran” (Goodblatt 1983:162. Translation from Hebrew is by the present author). 19

CHAPTER TWO

Other scholars explicitly express the notion that the Priests had a distinct social identity and socio-religious and political influence for several centuries after the destruction of the Temple. Baron, for example, wrote: “Apparently the Priests succeeded in preserving their identity and cohesiveness much better than any other group after the fall of Jerusalem” (Baron 1958:259, n. 36; cf. Kimelman 1983). S. Cohen shares a similar idea, suggesting that the Priests after the destruction of the Temple retained their group cohesion and communal influence. He writes: “Nevertheless, even with the Temple destroyed, Kohanim [Priests] retained their distinctive identity” (S. Cohen 1990:158). This monograph will offer an alternative examination and re-arrangement of the materials with respect to the social identity of the Priests. The following investigation takes into consideration archaeological findings and a conceptual framework from various fields within social science. Mapping the social identity of the “Priests” is a daunting task. Literary sources written by the Priests before or after the destruction of the Temple which may reflect the self-awareness of group identity simply do not exist. There are several literary sources dating to the Second Temple period which are attributed to authors with a priestly background, e.g. I Maccabees, Josephus, and the Testament of Levi. However, none of this literature reflects a group consciousness. If we use Leviticus as a prototype of a document written by the group of the Priests, we see that this document clearly expresses a collective consciousness of the group, characterized by the following features: (i) Their priestly world view is characterized by concepts such as holiness and separateness, the importance of the Day of Atonement, rules regarding ritual purity and impurity, separation of tithes and priestly gifts, marriage restrictions, etc. (ii) The Priests express self-awareness of their own superior position in the social structure of Jewish society, i.e. they exalt work in the Temple which is exclusively theirs. They alone have the ultimate legitimacy regarding rules of purity and impurity; they alone have the right to demand priestly gifts. (iii) They seek to promote their own economic interests with respect to their right to demand a variety of priestly gifts, etc. If we use the book of Leviticus as a prototype that reflects the world view of the Priests and at the same time legitimizes the superior status of the Priests in the social structure of their own society, we see that none of the literature mentioned above reflects the sitz im leben of the world of the Priests, i.e. despite the fact that the authors of I Maccabees and Josephus have a priestly background, their writings do not represent a priestly self-consciousness. On the contrary, they wrote as historians whose intention was to write a historiography of the Jewish people. Likewise, the writing of the author of the Testament of Levi (whose identity is unknown) does not reflect a priestly world view, but rather portrays a cosmological 20

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

description of the unrevealed world. In view of this, I may conclude that the group of the Priests as opposed to the Tannaitic Sages is the “silent group.” The world view and ideology of the Priests is revealed to us through the presentation of others. Philo, for example, gives us a brief summary of their world view and ideology and the Tannaitic sources describe the Priests as “significant others.” These sources lend us a wealth of information about them. In light of the above, the methodological difficulty we face compels us to take an alternative voyage whose landscape is less familiar and whose climate is risky at times, yet which is necessary if we wish to gain new educational perceptions and insight with respect to both the Priests and the social climate of their time. A new set of questions as guidelines Before I start the inquiry, I need to pose a new set of questions as guidelines with respect to the existence of the Priests as a social group after the destruction of the Temple. The social anthropologist Gluckman (1965) suggested that when a group is no longer able to achieve its goals it will eventually cease to exist as a social group. In line with this assumption, scholars express a similar idea that when the Temple ceased to exist, the Priests, whose main function and identity was connected to the Temple, diminished as a social group. The questions I need to ask are: (i) Do the sources reveal that the Priests had other functions outside the Temple that continued after the destruction of the Temple. Did they manage to create new goals? Are there any changes in their lifestyle and status as a social group after the destruction of the Temple? (ii) Are there any social indications of the existence of the Priests as a social group, such as maintaining certain customs, norms and obligations, and inner hierarchy that were unique to the group of the Priests? (iii) Are there any indications that out-group members continued to perceive them as a social group? In other words, it is the task of this current monograph to portray the social identity of the Priests by illuminating several components which may have contributed to the generation of group formation of the Priests before and after the destruction of the Temple. Another consideration I need to take into account is that most of the information regarding the identity of the group of the Priests is culled from Tannaitic literature; in other words, the identity of the Priests as a social group reflected in the writings of the Tannaitic Sages. Moreover, as will be argued later (especially chapter 3, pp. 126–140), in the process of generating political and social identity, the Tannaitic Sages consciously sought to blur the traces of the Priests as a collective group with political power and influence in their own society. I now present some general outlines of the group of Priests. 21

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The uniqueness of the social identity “Priests” compared to the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz The group of the Priests is distinct from the group of the Sages in several aspects: (i) The Priests were a closed group in contrast to the Sages, who were a relatively open group. In certain respects the Priests are perceived as a homogeneous group with respect to their origin; by definition a Priest must be born to a priestly family, as opposed to the Sages who allowed members from other groups to join. In this sense, the group is considered a closed group which does not allow outgroup male members to join since membership is defined by attributed status. The examination by Merton (1968) of open and closed groups reveals that the reason a well-organized closed group (which he defines as an elite group) restricts its membership, even to the extent of excluding members of the same group who are formally entitled to membership (cf. chapter 2, p. 70), is not only because the group has an interest in retaining prestige and power, but also because it wishes to maintain group distinctiveness: “It may be a structural requirement for an elite to remain relatively small, if its distinctive social relations are to be maintained” (Merton 1968:346). (ii) The cultural hegemony in the Jewish society of our period is constructed according to a world already defined by the Priests. For many generations the Priests were considered the ruling group, constituting the cultural hegemony of their own society. (This topic will be discussed in chapter 2, pp. 91–99.) The above suggestion coincides with the notion of the construction of social reality proposed by Berger and Luckmann (1966) who assert that the dominant group has an interest in constructing the social reality of their own society in order to maintain group superiority. They argue that the reality is not objective, but is defined and perceived as objective by the dominant group. Its definition and construction directly or indirectly serve the interests of both the dominant and the dominated groups. Berger and Luckmann suggest that the construction of the social reality is achieved through the norms, values, and world view of the dominant group of the given society by the development of language and terminology. (For elaborated discussion see chapters 2, pp. 85–99.) In view of the above, I suggest that the group of the Priests contributed immensely to restructuring the social categories in hierarchical order — Priest, Levites, Israelites, etc. — according to their ideology, in order to perpetuate group superiority. In other areas the Priests are not regarded as a coherent social group. For example, they had different political views. During the Great Jewish Revolt they joined or formed constellations which either confronted or cooperated with Roman policy. Likewise, I suggest that during the Bar-Kokhba Revolt there were Priests who avoided confrontation with the Roman empire while other Priests, following the leadership of R. Aqiba and the Priest Elazar, opposed the 22

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

Roman empire. (This issue will be discussed in chapter 2, pp. 41–46.) We may then assume that members of the group had different political policies and ideologies to some degree.

The socio-economic background of the Priests after the destruction of the Temple Generally speaking, Priests who survived the Great Jewish Revolt did not lose their property. Although there were changes with respect to ownership of land (S. Safrai 1994c:421–428), the laws concerning heave-offering and tithes were carefully observed by the Jews during the Tannaitic period, as is clearly demonstrated in the Talmudic literature (cf. Büchler 1966:116ff; 1912). However, literary evidence reveals that the social status of the Priests was not distributed equally among its members. Those who belonged to the nobility constituted the upper stratum within the class of the Priests; they controlled high positions in Jewish society and owned both lands and slaves. (For detail information see Büchler 1966:117–119.) Other Priests, especially lay Priests, did not share the same privileges. Indeed, there are Priests who were addressed as “poor Priests,” as recounted in the Mishna. And [the field in which the heave-offering was sown] is subject to [the laws of] (i) gleaning, (ii) forgotten sheaves and (iii) [produce growing in] the corner [of a field]. And the poor Israelites and poor Priests glean [in such fields] (m. Terumot 9.2; cf. m. Terumot 9.3).

These Priests, presumably, belonged to the category of those who did not obtain sufficient income either from the donation of tithes or from the possession of land.

23

CHAPTER TWO

THE HISTORICAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE GROUP OF THE PRIESTS

Despite the fact that literary sources do not provide us with first-hand information about the Priests’ own awareness of the process of reconstructing their historical continuity, I will highlight several social mechanisms which may have contributed significantly to the process of group formation and sameness over time. One of the aims of this monograph is to demonstrate that the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah is a turning point with respect to the formation of the class of the Priests. In what follows I will indicate several elements which no doubt contributed to the formation of the priestly ideological hegemony and their superiority in the social structure from the Second Temple period on. It was during the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah that the Priests sought to secure their exclusive position in the social structure related to the Temple and its cult. Moreover, it was the high priesthood that dominanted the public and political affairs of Judaea which were connected to the administration and financial affairs of the Temple. With the disappearance of Zerubavel (the governor who was of Davidic lineage), there was no heir to succeed him and thus the High Priest became the supreme authority in Jewish society (Tadmor 1969; Stern 1976b). Before I begin the investigation, it should be noted that there is scholarly ambiguity with respect to the portrayal of the social identity of the group of Priests. On the one hand, some scholars (Wellhausen, HÖlscher, Schürer, D. Schwartz and others in Sussmann 1990:47, n. 154; Levine 1981)3 tend to portray the Priests, especially the members of the high priesthood (Sadducees), as cooperating with foreign elements such as the Greek and Roman empires and consequently as being more lenient with regards to the observance of Mosaic law. Albeck for example wrote: “This aristocratic group who were raised and educated as disciples of Greek culture claimed outwardly and for polemic needs that they were against tradition, but inwardly most of them respected not only the oral law, but also the Mosaic law” (Albeck 1943b:173).4 3 4

24

For extensive discussion and bibliography see Sussmann 1990. The translation from Hebrew is by the present author.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

On the other hand, other scholars maintain the opposite, namely that during the Second Temple period it was the High Priests and the Priests around them who were stricter in observing Mosaic law whereas the Pharisees were more lenient (cf. Geiger 1949:69–102; Sussmann 1990; Regev 1999). Our inquiry reveals that neither of these models is an authentic portrayal of the Priest’s identity since these conflicting fundamental attitudes existed simultaneously within the group of the Priests to various degrees during the Second Temple period and afterwards. Tadmor (1969) has observed that the narratives in Ezrah and Nehemiah reflect a dialectic tension between two fundamental attitudes within Jewish society, which existed already in the period of the Kings and intensified during the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah. The first is representative of those who tend to absorb influences of other cultures, encourage cooperation with other nations and are able to assimilate foreign elements into their culture, whereas the second is representative of those who resist foreign cultural influence and are scrupulous in their observance of authentic and original Jewish traditions. In view of this theory, the polemic in the narratives of Ezrah and Nehemiah seems to have been conducted between the High Priest Elyashib in Jerusalem and Ezrah (who had a priestly background) and Nehemiah. On the one hand, the house of the High Priest represented the secular and priestly aristocracy, whose status was primarily related to the Temple and its cult. The Jewish aristocracy sought to cultivate a relationship with the nobles and officials outside of Judah in order to reinforce their status and position. Intermarriage seems to have been an inevitable consequence of this intimate cooperation between the High Priests and the foreign aristocracy (Neh. 13.4–9, 28). Moreover, intermarriage with non-Jews was not limited to the priestly aristocracy, but also involved the Priests, and Levites, and other social categories within Jewish society (Ez. 9.1–2; Neh. 13.23–25). On the other hand, Ezrah the Priest and Nehemiah represented the community of the exiles which encompassed the class of the Priests, the Levites, the Israelites, and others. Their guiding principle was separation from their surroundings, which included the prohibition of intermarriage with foreigners and a strict observance of Mosaic law in order to preserve the “holy seed of Israel” (Neh. 10.28). This association is characterized as the loyal element within Israel, the “holy seed of Israel,” whose task was to restore the Mosaic covenant and maintain its observance; to establish economic stability for the operation of the Temple, and to secure the position and the status of the Priests and the Levites in relation to the Temple and its cult. The accreditation initiated by Nehemiah, as related in Nehemiah chapter 10, required the following undertakings from those who joined the covenant: 25

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(i) Separation from other nations and the prohibition of intermarriage with foreigners (v. 30). (ii) Observance of Sabbath (including the prohibition of trading on that day) (v. 31). (iii) Care of the Temple: this required scrupulous observance of the Temple and priestly offerings, such as: (1) an annual obligation for each individual to donate half a shekel5 to the Temple; (2) an obligation to bring the wood offering (v. 34); (3) an obligation to observe the priestly offering such as terumah (heaveoffering) and tithes (v. 33–36). My conclusion is as follows: The reformation initiated by Ezrah and Nehemiah contained several important components which no doubt contributed to the constitution of the priestly ideological hegemony and their superiority in the social structure of Jewish society (cf. chapter 2, pp. 91–99). This included securing group separateness through the system of genealogy, the meticulous observance of ritual purity and impurity pertaining to the Temple and its cult, the separation of tithes, and securing the status of the Priests relating to the Temple and its cult. These components, as will be demonstrated in the following chapters, not only contributed to the formation of the priestly hegemonic discourse and praxis but were mirrored by the group of the Sages when seeking to constitute a counter-hegemony (see especially chapter 5). Secondly, the investigation indicates that the polemic between the house of the High Priest and Ezrah and Nehemiah reflects two deep-seated attitudes in Jewish society and within the group of the Priests, which were strongly manifested during the Second Temple period and onwards: one, which advocated openness towards the neighboring societies and the adoption of foreign cultural traits and the possibility of assimilation, at the same time seems to have taken a lenient view of the observance of Mosaic law; the other taught separation from foreign cultures and emphasized strict observance of the “holy seed” and the spreading of the knowledge of God. The dialectic tension between cooperation and assimilation brings us to the next topic.

Primordial identities in micro-macro contexts Confrontation and cooperation within the group of the Priests with the greater empire The question is why certain members of the priesthood sought confrontation with the non-Jewish elements while other members, especially those belonging to the high priesthood, were willing to give up their primordial identity and assimilate with upper-class members of non-Jewish society. 5

26

See glossary.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

The social anthropologist Geertz (1994) defines a primordial group as one based on assumed blood ties, local language, regional affiliation, or religion. Thus, party, club, or union affiliation are never primordial identities in the same way as a group of people having a genuine sense of origin and belonging. Hence, class and party can never compete with primordial identity such as language and place of origin. Geertz suggests that when there is conflict between a minority group and the greater state, it is a result of the dialectical tension between the particular desire of the group to be publicly recognized as a distinct group and the universal desire for political engagement and influence on the welfare of the state. As Geertz explains: “The one aim is to be noticed: it is a search for an identity, and a demand that the identity will be publicly acknowledged as having importance, a social assertion of self as ‘being somebody in the world’. The other demand is practical: it is a demand for progress, for a rising standard of living, more effective political order, greater social justice” (Geertz 1973:258). Moreover, Geertz suggests that there are two possible reactions when there is tension between a minority group and the greater state: (a) Confrontation One possible outcome is that the tension will intensify, since the group members will be more loyal to their specific identity than, for example, to the Roman empire. The members of the group will be more attached to primordial bonds such as biological relationship, race, language, politico-religious party, locality, customs, particular social practice, and tradition. This approach was adopted by the community of exiles (period of Ezrah and Nehemiah) and pursued in various degrees in Jewish society by different Jewish groups. (b) Cooperation and imitation The other option involves cooperation and possible assimilation (acculturation). A consequence of assimilation is that the group runs the risk of losing its own particular identity. The process of acculturation implies imitation and adoption of several components from within the given culture. According to Geertz, the willingness of a social collective of one type of primordial bond or another to relinquish their own specific identification depends on their evaluation of the cost in terms of assimilation and loss of local influence versus the benefits in terms of stability, prosperity, peace, domination, etc. People are inclined to consider whether they gain more than they lose by accepting an overarching state identity as their primary identity and loyalty. This means that a minority group will be willing to downplay some of its more restricted loyalties to its ethnic identity and be more loyal to the secular government in order to gain a certain amount of autonomy, political power, other privileges, and material wealth (Geertz 1994). 27

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Accordingly, we would expect members of the high priesthood to relinquish certain aspects of their Jewish identity for other benefits, such as the possibility of improvement, of a higher standard of living and more efficient political order and beyond that, of “playing a part in the larger arena of world politics” and thus being able to exercise a greater influence on other nations. Moreover, it should be emphasized that the process of acculturation, also labeled “Hellenism,” was a widespread phenomenon in antiquity and included the entire eastern civilization of the Greco-Roman culture. (For extensive discussion and bibliography about Hellenism and the Jewish state during the Second Temple period see Rappaport 1996.) Geertz’s suggestion is consistent with the social psychology perspective offered by the social psychologist Tajfel (1974; 1978; 1979). Within Tajfel’s social identity theory, the assessment by individuals of the social structure as stable and legitimate encourages them to seek positive self-image in addition to the other benefits of assimilation. In their attempt to reinforce their access to resources they may adopt some feature of the dominant culture, e.g. lifestyle, clothes, or accent. This can happen on condition that they see this path as open to them. (For a detailed examination, see Tajfel 1974; 1978; 1979; Tajfel and Turner 1979; Turner 1975; cf. Taylor and Moghaddam 1994.) Thus, in order to gain benefits, the High Priests would seek a positive self-image and recognition through cooperation with the Roman empire and a willingness to adopt certain elements of Greco-Roman identity, as we shall shortly see. This idea is based on the assumption that the status of the High Priests who served in the Temple was controlled by the Roman empire; indeed, the family of Herod was delegated the authority to appoint the High Priest on a per-term basis. I suggest that this method of appointment necessitated political and cultural rapprochement with the Roman empire. Micro and macro contexts of the High Priests during the Second Temple period The members of the high priesthood are a classic example of those who not only sought cooperation with the secular government (first with the Hellenistic government and then with the Roman empire) but mirrored and partly adopted their culture and customs. Already in the Hellenistic period, the High Priests were on convivial terms with the upper classes of the non-Jewish population. Adoption of a Hellenistic lifestyle reached its peak in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes IV. The High Priests of Bilgah and Tobiads headed by Jason, brother of High Priest Onias III, sought to transform Jerusalem into a polis by renaming Jerusalem Antiochia, establishing Hellenistic institutions such as the gymnasium, and introducing foreign elements, such as pagan worship and other Hellenistic ceremonies (II Macc. 4:12–15; cf. Stern 1976b; Rappaport 1996). 28

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

I now examine the identity of the High Priest during the Second Temple period. Most scholars agree that a great number of High Priests were Sadducees. Smallwood and Stern argue that it is possible to identify some members of the elite of the High Priests with the Sadducean aristocracy. Two of the most eminent families of High Priests who are totally identified with the Sadducees are the house of Boethus and the house of Ananus. The house of Phiabi is also considered to have been affiliated with the Sadducees to some extent. (For a detailed examination, see Smallwood 1962; Stern 1976b.) The policy of cooperation with foreign elements finds new expressions during the Roman occupation. Smallwood asserts that the High Priests had a good relationship with Rome during most of the period before the Jewish Revolt. This friendly attitude, she argues, is due to the fact that the High Priests recognized the power of Rome, and the only way to maintain their position and gain other privileges was through cooperation with it (Smallwood 1962). One of the ways of achieving political power was by building personal relationships with dominant figures from the inner circles of the high society of the Roman empire such as the Roman administrators. Stern’s examination reveals that such an attitude was prevalent among several High Priests: the High Priest Hananiah ben Nedabaeus sought to strengthen his political position in Judaea by establishing personal contacts with representatives of the Roman empire. Josephus informs us that he had close relations with Albinus the Procurator (Josephus, Ant. XX, 9.2, 204–205). Likewise, the High Priest Johanan ben Hanan cultivated close relations with Felix the procurator (Josephus, Ant. XX, 8.5, 162; cf. Goodman 1987:145–149). Smallwood argues that this sympathy was, nevertheless, far from being genuine love for Roman domination. His argument is strengthened by the fact that towards the end of the Jewish Revolt some of the High Priests opposed Rome. (Examples will be given in chapter 2, pp. 41–46.) My investigation has revealed that within the group of the Priests there were certain Priests, especially those of the high priesthood, who were willing to downplay one or more components of their specific primordial identities in order to gain benefits from the Roman empire. The inevitable question is to what extent were the High Priests willing to relinquish their primordial identities? Are we to assume that they were lenient with respect to observance of the Mosaic law as some scholars and archaeologists explicitly suggest? Of course, several important primordial identities were preserved by the Priests, namely biological relationship and ideology: (i) Neither Josephus, Philo, nor the Tannaitic sources remark on the practice of intermarriage between Priests and members from non-Jewish backgrounds during this period (as practiced by the High Priests during the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah). On the contrary, all the sources from this period put great emphasis on the Priest’s practice of endogamy based on family genealogy (cf. chapter 2, pp. 70–77). 29

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(ii) Several scholarly examinations of the polemic between the Sages (Pharisees) and the Priests (Sadducees) reveal that the halakhic system of the Priests is scrupulous and stringent as opposed to the Pharisaic one which is more lenient and inventive. The polemic between these two opposing groups relates mainly to halakhic issues pertaining to the Temple and its cult, Sabbath prohibition, and purity laws, such as the procedure for burning the incense on Yom Kippur, the water libation during Sukkot, and the prohibition against going to war on Sabbath, tvol yom.6 (Bar-Ilan 1982; Sussmann 1990; Knohl 1991; Regev 1999). Moreover, their examination reveals that in the polemic between the Priests and the Sages, the Priests’ halakhic world view is based on priestly codes anchored in Biblical law (Knohl 1991; 1992). Furthermore, the above examination with respect to the Priests’ primordial identity reveals that when the Priests chose to identify themselves with the priestly school and their halakhic world view, they could demonstrate to themselves and others that their behavior was consistent with that of their predecessors, namely the historical Priests, and in this way were able to show (a) sameness and continuity of the group through time, (b) loyalty to authentic traditions anchored in biblical times, and (c) the validity of their superior position in the contemporary social structure. From the above examination I conclude: 1) Within the group of Priests there is tension between two fundamental attitudes, cooperation and confrontation with foreign elements. On the one hand, there were Priests who perceived themselves as the loyal element within Israel, whose basic attitude was the observance of authentic and original Jewish tradition and at the same time the denial of any absorption of Greco-Roman culture. On the other hand, those Priests who were close to the center of power were willing to relinquish certain elements of their primordial identity in order to gain benefits from the greater empire. Nevertheless, the policy of assimilating certain elements of Greco-Roman identity did not mean total denial of their specific priestly identity. On the contrary, the examination reveals that they avidly retained certain elements of their specific identities, such as language, race, ideology, and biological relations. In other words, the dialectic tension between confrontation and cooperation with foreign elements is revealed in three areas: (a) in Jewish society, (b) within the group of the Priests, and (c) within the aristocratic inner circle of those Priests who sought cooperation with the greater empire. 2) I would suggest that the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah was a decisive one which contributed immensely to the generation of the social identity of the Priests as a privileged group and the constitution of the cultural priestly hegemony in Jewish society. 6

30

See glossary.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE PRIESTS AS A SOCIAL GROUP 7

The primary task of this monograph is to examine several features which may have contributed to the generation of the collective identity of the Priests. Secondly, I will examine several social mechanisms which contributed to the generation of group boundary and its own distinctiveness in the social structure. One of the characteristics of group identity is that the members of the group may have a collective consciousness of their common identity, perceiving themselves as belonging to the same group. Group members are aware of their membership in the group and at the same time they are identified by others as belonging to the group. Unfortunately, we don’t have any direct source which might indicate the self-perception of the Priests as belonging to the same group. However, the group of the Priests, as will be demonstrated below, was recognized as the significant other by the group of Tannaitic Sages before and after the destruction of the Temple. In Tannaitic literature the group of the Priests is referred to by various appellations. Some of these designations are overt and some are disguised. In most cases they are addressed by their actual social category ‫ כהן‬Priest with different titles such as ‫ בני כהנים גדולים‬sons of High Priests (m. Ohalot 17.5; ibid. Ketubot 13.1); ‫ עניי כהנים‬poor Priests (m. Terumot 9.2; ibid. 9.3); ‫כהן עם הארץ‬ a Priest who is ‘Am ha’aretz (t. Demai 4.28); ‫ כהן גדול עם הארץ‬a High Priest who is ‘Am ha’aretz (m. Horayot 3.8). In other instances they are addressed as ‫ אוכלי תרומה‬those who eat the heaveoffering8 (m. Hagigah 2.7; t. Eduyyot 3.1). 7

8

It is beyond the scope of this monograph to examine the relationship between the Levites and the Priests, although the Priests are strongly related to the Levites as witnessed in the Bible. Tannaitic and other sources draw a clear distinction between these two social categories with respect to their genealogical attribution, their rights and duties. The social application of this terminology is discussed in detail in chapter 2, pp. 46–52. 31

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We recognize them from the social contexts, as in the following case: That he will not give the heave-offering and tithes to ‘Am ha’aretz 9 (t. Demai 2.2).

In both instances the reference is to the Priests, since only Priests were entitled to receive the heave-offering. (This topic will be discussed thoroughly later in this monograph.) Moreover, they are referred to in different social contexts and are often recognized as a superior group with certain privileges, such as the right to receive tithes and heave-offerings, and as a group which wields political and religious power. (These topics are discussed throughout this monograph.) Nevertheless, the decisive question is whether these appellations refer to the historical Priests of the Second Temple period or to the Priests who lived during the Tannaitic period. It is difficult to give a clear answer; however, there are some indications to suggest that some of these appellations reflect the contemporary social reality of the Tannaitic Sages: (i) The fact that they are mentioned repeatedly and in different contexts unlike other groups, such as the Early Christians, indicates a strong presence of the group of the Priests in the Tannaitic period. (ii) The Priests had other functions outside the Temple which they continued to fulfill and which were recognized by the group of the Sages, as will be demonstrated shortly.

Social boundary versus cultural content The social anthropologist Barth (1969) points out that the social mechanism of boundary maintenance is not generated in separation, with each social group developing its cultural and social form in isolation, but in a social context in which opposite groups communicate and interact with each other and help to shape and reshape the boundaries. They seek both in themselves and in the members of the other groups certain features that could be used either to unite them or to separate them. Barth also highlights the close affinity between social groups and cultural attributes: social groups may have a common culture and history, yet each group will choose certain features from the given cultural context. The specific features chosen by the actors themselves are not an expression of “objective” differences from the others, but rather are perceived by others as significant social markers: “Some cultural features are used by the actors as signals and emblems of differences, other are ignored, and in some relationships radical differences are played down and denied” (ibid. 14). The choice of these elements, he explains, 9

32

This appellation is discussed in chapter 4, pp. 237–241.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

plays a crucial role in the formation of identity making.10 Moreover, this model of collective identity implies that the social identity of the group is linked to group categorization; the ascription and identification by the actors themselves using certain criteria and signals for identification. To express this slightly differently, a member of the group identifies himself with a culturally specific set of values and norms and at the same time employs signals and emblems. These signals and emblems are now employed by others to identify him as a member of the group. According to Barth these characteristics can be seen in two spheres: (i) The diacritical features that include public signs and symbols that people look for and demonstrate in order to indicate their identity. These public elements can be appellations, customs, dress, language, house-form, or general lifestyle. (ii) Basic system values: performance is evaluated according to standards of morality and excellence. Before I proceed with the inquiry into group identity relating to diacritical features, let me highlight some of the findings with respect to different aspects of collective identity. In the previous chapter Geertz demonstrated a somewhat different usage of the concept of identity from Barth (chapter 2, pp. 26–28). Whereas Barth’s concept of social identity directed the scientific gaze toward social processes whereby a cultural boundary is created through interaction between different social groups, Geertz, whose perspective is micro-macro (state loyalty versus primordial loyalties), tends to focus more on the content of primordial social identities and how and why such content is important for social actors. In this manner he manages to show how group identity cannot be seen in isolation from other important social identities, including the greater state. The way Geertz employs the concept of social identity helps us better understand both citizenship identity and various primordial identities by seeing how they are interrelated within the context of the greater state. This brings us to the next topic which relates to the fluidity of social identity depending on its context.

The usage of diacritical features in a micro-macro context An increasing awareness of an element of fluidity in modern societies regarding social identities has led researchers like Silverstein (1976) and Herzfeld (1987; 1997) to stress the fluidity of social identity depending on its social contexts, with 10

This idea runs contrary to Levine (1989), who argues that the Sages maintained a social boundary between them and Jewish society as a result of social, religious, and cultural isolation. 33

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regard to how people signal cultural symbols of their social identities. To some extent they come to have a pragmatic view of how people use linguistic shifters both in distancing themselves from various others and in linking unique features of themselves to relevant social situations. Interestingly, their theories may also throw new light on early societies like ancient Israel, where both linguistic and non-linguistic shifters (i.e. dress code and ornaments on buildings) relate to shifting contexts. Social identity: The relation between linguistic and social boundary The linguist and anthropologist Silverstein (1976) maintains that there is a close connection between culture and linguistics, demonstrating how people use linguistics in order to mark social boundaries. His theories have profoundly informed the pragmatic view of ethnic identity elaborated by the social anthropologist Herzfeld (1987; 1997), relating to the management of Greek identity in modern day Greece. Silverstein’s delicate insight has revealed that much analysis of speech acts that depends on their social context has been dominated by traditional linguistic analysis which employed exclusively semantico-referential means to describe social categories,11 thus failing to recognize other important elements of language, such as signals, signs, symbols, and indexicals. Hence it missed the total meaning of language and communication by missing the embeddedness of languages in different social situations. Purpositive privacy function of speech acts and category shifters Silverstein, however, has brought to light the importance of non-referential functions of speech acts. He uses examples of a speaker who uses a language which the entire audience supposedly understands, yet the speaker may use “markers” such as professional terminology or categories with specific meaning and context, which can be understood only by those who are part of the professional community, thus creating a social demarcation between “insiders” and “outsiders.” Silverstein calls this social phenomenon “purpositive privacy function of speech,” implying that the speaker is using such markers in order to create social distance between the participants. Silverstein, in line with Herzfeld, classifies these social markers as pragmatic markers of categories. He further explains that these categories cannot be understood fully without the given context, since social categories are ambiguous in their semantic reference, and in this way, we may call them category shifters, since they change their meaning according to the contextual situation to which 11

34

Language has been analyzed only as a semantic system using its intentional aspect to refer to or describe something. “Scandinavia” for example, is a “pure” referential linguistic category that would refer to the countries Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

they refer. Silverstein maintains that the purpose of a shifter is to explain the semantic reference that the speaker is indicating in his speech act: “the reference ‘shift’ is dependent on the speech situation” (ibid. 24). Similarly, Herzfeld (1987; 1997), whose main concern is the analysis of social identity, asserts that social categories can signify different meanings depending on the “social life” to which the categories relate. Secondly, social identities of a given group relate to each other in a hierarchical fashion, meaning that a higher level of identity, like being a Jew or a Roman, is relevant in some situations. A lower level of identity, like being a Sage or a Priest, is natural in other situations, while an even lower level of identification, like being a High Priest or a lay Priest, may be involved when persons with a priestly identity meet. In other words, the demarcation between opposite groups will depend on the speech context, implying a given level of contrast to the out-group. All this implies that understanding the meaning of a specific social category will depend on the time and the place in which it occurs, the actors involved in the social interaction, and the type of task they are assigned. In light of the above theories, I will examine the usage of linguistic shifters as markers of social identity by the Priests in a micro-macro context during the period prior to the destruction of the Temple and afterwards. The usage of linguistic shifters in a micro context by the group of the Priests Levine recognizes the correlation between the usage of Greek and Hebrew names in relation to the social class. Josephus reveals to us that the Sadducees were the aristocrats, the wealthy, and the people of rank, and they associated themselves with people from the upper class. “The Sadducees having the confidence of the wealthy alone but not following among the populace, while the Pharisees have the support of the masses” (Josephus, Ant. XIII, 10.6, 297–298). Levine associates the Sadducees with Greek names, such as Jason, Onias, Aristobulus, Theophilus, and Eupolemus (cf. Stern 1976b), and the Pharisees with Hebrew (or Aramaic) names, such as Yosi, Natai, Yehoshuah, Yehudah, and Shimeon. He suggests that these names are used as indexical references to the social class to which they belong.12 By using Hebrew names as a social category they express deliberate contempt for Hellenistic culture and disassociation from it (Levine 1981). By the same token, I would suggest that the High Priests used these names as a social group in order to demonstrate an affiliation with the Hellenistic culture and as an index of their social class. (For further discussion regarding the use of the Hebrew and Greek names in Jewish society see Rappaport 1996.)

12

It should be noted that there are some exceptions (cf. Antigonos from Socho, m. Abot 1.3). 35

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Linguistic shifters in a micro context during the Second Temple and afterwards Earlier I demonstrated that the tendency to assimilate certain elements of Greco-Roman culture did not mean total denial of their specific priestly identity. On the contrary, the examination reveals that they eagerly preserved certain aspects of their specific identities such as their race, priestly world view, and biological relations. Moreover, in line with Herzfeld and Silverstein, it seems that the usage of social markers is indeed context bound as in the example of linguistic and non-linguistic shifters. Levine, like others, is correct to assert that the high priesthood spoke Greek and used Greek names as indexical references when associating with members of the Roman empire. However, both literary and archeological sources reveal that the high priesthood spoke Hebrew and used Hebrew names (J. Naveh 1992b; Barag and Flusser 1986; Eshel 2001). Josephus, for example, mentions 30 dignitari who were appointed as High Priests during the Second Temple period. The list of these High Priests reveals that all of them possessed Hebrew names, except for two who had Greek names. (The list is reconstructed by Smallwood 1962:31–32.)13 This leads us to assume that the language used by the Priests was context bound; in the macro context, they would speak the official language of the Roman empire which was Greek, whereas in the micro context they would use Hebrew or Aramaic depending on the social context. This subject, however, is discussed elsewhere in detail (cf. chapter 3, pp. 154–157). I will briefly mention that various scholarly inquiries based on epigraphic finds such as coins, vessels, and literary sources reveal a basic dichotomy between the Hebrew and Aramaic between the two Jewish Revolts (Yadin 1971; J. Naveh 1992b; Eshel 2001; Z. Safrai 2001). Accordingly, during the Second Temple period, Aramaic gradually became the dominant language for daily intercourse,14 whereas the Hebrew language was used less in daily intercourse and generally reserved to express holiness and nationalistic 13

14

36

By the same token, the examination by Rappaport (1996) demonstrated that the Hasmonaean kings used Hebrew and Greek names. The Greek names were used in the macro context, whereas the Hebrew names were used in the micro context, thus delivering different messages depending on their specific context. J. Naveh (1992b), for example, argues that Aramaic was far more dominant than Hebrew in daily intercourse and writings. His assumption is based on the fact that: (i) Numerous documents in Aramaic, including legal documents, were found in Masada, Jerusalem, and other areas. (ii) In addition, the entire folio of the Mishna is written in Hebrew, whereas the citations of the legal documents (shetarot) are in Aramaic. However, some of the late documents dating to the period of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt are written in Hebrew. J. Naveh supports Yadin’s argument that the reason these documents were written in Hebrew was that a special decree was made by Bar-Kokhba who wanted to revive the Hebrew language and make it the official language of the Jewish state (Yadin 1971:181).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

sentiments.15 Hebrew was naturally dominant in social locations such as the Temple and the synagogue.16 Accordingly, I suggest that the Hebrew language was a social marker used by the Priests in the Temple as a cultural symbol of their own particularistic social identity. The relationship between protected knowledge and the purpositive privacy function of speech Another observation which deserves our attention is the relationship between protected knowledge and the use of non-referential functions of speech acts. Silverstein’s theory of the purpositive privacy function of speech acts brings to mind the theory of protected knowledge which will be discussed later in this chapter (cf. chapter 2, pp. 85–99). This theory of protected knowledge will be applied to suggest that the Priests in the Temple developed techniques of discourse using professional terminology and categories loaded with meaning, and contexts that were obscure to outsiders who were unfamiliar with their specialized language. Consequently, the use of specific discourse relating to the Temple and its service not only forged group identity by linking their relevant identity to the particular social situation but also created a social distance from other social categories. Moreover, by using professional language, the Priests could further legitimize their group’s superiority in the social structure of Jewish society. So far, I have focused on the use of linguistic shifters in the micro context. Our next task is to discover other relevant non-linguistic shifters that were used as social markers in the micro-macro context. Non-linguistic shifters in the micro-macro context used by the Priests during Second Temple period and afterwards The lifestyle of the High Priests during the Second Temple period Archaeological finds reveal that members of the high priesthood embraced a certain lifestyle whose symbolic formation was used as an indexical reference to indicate similarity to the non-Jewish and Jewish aristocracy and the willingness to assimilate certain elements of Greco-Roman culture. However, the group of the Priests was further distinguished from other groups and convinced the ingroup members (including the lay Priests and the High Priests) of their own special identity and their superiority in the social structure. 15

16

Recent examination carried out by Eshel (2001) of the use of Hebrew in the economic documents found in Wadi Murbba‘at support the theories proposed by Yadin and Naveh (1989) who argue that during the two Jewish revolts (the First Jewish Revolt and the BarKokhba Revolt) Hebrew was used intentionally in order to evoke nationalist feelings. According to Tosefta Megillah 3.13, the importance of reading Hebrew in the synagogue was also emphasized among those who spoke a foreign language. 37

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Their special identity, as we shall see below, is marked by the fact that they lived in an exclusive neighborhood, distinguished by their housing style, furniture, and decoration. Several archaeological excavations conducted by archaeologists Avigad and Broshi have brought to light that the southwestern hill in Jerusalem known at the end of the Second Temple period as the Upper City was the area where the wealthiest and most prominent Jewish families lived. Among those residents were the upper priesthood of the Temple, Herodians, and other privileged persons. Further evidence indicates that it is most likely that the inhabitants were not strict in their religious observance. Broshi concludes: “It would appear that, in the splendid private homes at the summit of the Upper City, the wealthy allowed themselves to be lax in the prohibition against graven images” (Broshi 1975:58). Furthermore, the lifestyle and architecture of this area were influenced by the Hellenistic style. Avigad wrote: “These homes were richly ornamented with frescoes, stucco work, and mosaic floors, and were equipped with complex bathing facilities, as well as containing the luxury goods and artistic objects which signify a high standard of living. This, then, was an upper class quarter, where the noble families of Jerusalem lived, with the High Priests at their head. Here they built their homes in accordance with the dominant fashion of the Hellenistic-Roman Period” (Avigad 1985:83). In the following, I will examine dress code as one of the diacritical features of the group of the Priests in the micro-macro context and dress code in a micro context in the Temple. Dress code indicating social status in daily life Literary sources do not reveal to us whether the Priests had a dress code that distinguished them from other social groups in daily life; on the contrary, several scholarly investigations based on literary and archaeological evidence demonstrate that the clothes used during the Second Temple and the Tannaitic period were similar to those in the Hellenistic-Roman world. The outfit comprised three items: undergarments, upper garments — the tunic or robe that was equivalent to the Roman chiton, and the cloak or tallit (mantle) that was equivalent to the toga. (For a detailed examination, see Yadin 1971:66–85; S. Safrai 1983:107; Hamel 1983:142–145.) Nevertheless, there are several indications that may give us a general idea of the dress code of the Priests and how it distinguished them as a privileged social group in the micro context. During that period, it was easy to distinguish socio-economic background by means of several indicators relating to dress code: (i) The quality of the fabrics signified the cultural affiliation of the person. Only the well-off could afford expensive materials. The most popular highquality fabrics were wool, pure linen, and silk. Linen was especially desirable 38

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

and traditionally denoted honor and elegance (b. Pesahim 109a). Therefore, the finest linen was preferred by the wealthy. I suggest that the Priests who belonged to the upper class used the best and most expensive linen when officiating in the Temple, and that is was worn especially for the robes of the High Priest on the Day of Atonement. It should be emphasized that these clothes were used exclusively in the Temple (m. Yoma 3:7; cf. Krois 1924:15–27; Hamel 1983:174). (ii) A long tunic and large cloak were used by the wealthy and educated, whereas those from a low socio-economic background, slaves for example, wore much shorter clothing. Hamel notes: “Roman citizens usually wore long tunics and very long mantles, and this perhaps influenced Greek and specifically Palestinian habits. But common people wore much shorter clothing, because their occupations compelled them to do so” (Hamel 1983:169; cf. Krois 1924:178, 200). This is confirmed by Josephus’ description of the Priest’s tunic: “The robe is a tunic descending to the ankles” (Josephus, Ant. III, 5, 3.154). (iii) The wardrobe. The socio-economic background of a person was measured by the items of clothing he owned and the ability to change his clothes as he wished. (iv) The color of the garments and their decoration were other indications of a person’s background. Woolen tunics found in the Judean caves were adorned with decorative patterns. Yadin (1971) suggested that the people who hid in these caves came from a high socio-economic background in Jewish society. Moreover, clothes dyed, purple, or blue were restricted to men of high social status (Hamel 1983:176–191). From the above examination I deduce that Priests of the upper stratum within the class of the Priests could be recognized by their dress code as belonging to the privileged groups who constituted the nobility (Jewish and non-Jewish), thus demonstrating their superiority in the social structure of Jewish society. Another result of the dress code is their demarcation from nonaristocratic social categories. This perception illustrates how the theories of Geertz (1973; 1994), Barth (1969), Silverstein (1976), and Herzfeld (1987; 1997) are interwoven, emphasizing different perspectives. Dress code of the High Priests in the Temple The vestments of the High Priest were distinguished from those of the lay Priests. His priestly outfit included 12 features characteristic of royalty. (For a detailed description of the outfit of the High Priest see Haran 1978a.) Moreover, during the major festivals, when the multitudes were gathered around the Temple to celebrate the feast, it was customary for the High Priests to perform the rites of the cult before the altar wearing the ornamental dress of the High Priest which was magnificent and splendid to gaze upon and gave him a regal appearance (cf. Ex. 28.40; Josephus, Ant. XV, 3.3, 51; cf. Büchler 1966:52). Such public events 39

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no doubt legitimized the Priests’ position and status in the contemporary social structure, and at the same time emphasized their primordial priestly identity, since it reflected an act of cultic significance and the preservation of old and authentic Jewish traditions. The dress code of the common Priests in the Temple The vestment of the common Priest consisted of four items (t. Menahot 6.11): Headdress, garment, girdle, and pants. Josephus provides us with full details of the priestly vestments (Josephus, Ant. III, 7.2–3, 151–157). During the divine service in the Temple, they wore priestly vestments that are frequently referred to as “holy garments” in contrast to the “ordinary clothes” they used in daily life: They [the Priests] did not sleep in the holy garments, but they undressed, folded them, and lay them down under their heads, and covered themselves with their own clothes (m. Tamid 1.1; cf. t. Besah 4.4; b. Yoma 23b).

Moreover, the use of white linen garments symbolized their unique position. The Priests’ main involvement in the Temple was conceived of essentially as serving the deity and mediating between God and his people. Both of these tasks involve a primary state of purity and holiness. In other words, great emphasis was put on white garments that reflected their primordial priestly identity. Josephus, who was himself a Priest, expressed this notion in the following: “They [the Priests] must see to it also that their private life be beyond reproach. That is why wearers of the priestly robes are spotless, immaculately pure” (Josephus, Ant. III, 7.2, 278–279). From the above examination I suggest that the priestly dress code within the Temple has a double significance: (i) It signifies their exclusive role in the Temple as mediators between God and the people, thus signifying their superiority in Jewish society. (ii) It signifies their belonging to the faithful elements within Israel. Other signs after the destruction of the Temple There are several indications that the Priests were distinguished as a social group. These are reflected in several customs that will be discussed throughout this monograph, such as living together in priestly settlements, eating in a state of ritual purity, making the rounds of the threshing floor, the practice of endogamy, and inscriptions in several synagogues that indicate their wealth. The examination has so far demonstrated how linguistic and non-linguistic shifters such as language, dress code, and lifestyle relate to shifting context and the marking of social identity. The Priests in the macro context may have used the Greek language, had special manners, etiquette, and dress code to indicate sympathy and intimate cooperation with the foreign aristocracy, whereas they 40

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

used the Hebrew language and dress code in the Temple to emphasize their particular priestly identity, which was intimately connected to the Temple and its cult and what it represented — namely holiness and Jewish nationalism.

Cultural symbols: Ideology, commitment and specific practices One of the dominant features of group identity is that the members of the group usually share certain cultural symbols that are taught by the members of the ingroup and by which they recognize one another. These cultural symbols relate to ideology, common interests, and specific practices. The ideology of the Priests: Holiness and purity One of the dominant features of the world view of the Priests was holiness and ritual purity. The Priests, being essentially servants of God, enjoyed greater holiness than the rest of the people. This was the widespread social convention in Jewish culture, which received its legitimacy from the biblical message, namely, the right to priesthood. The legitimacy itself is not in the hands of the public, but is a divine grace extended to a chosen tribe. The holiness of the Priests is a matter of agreement in all biblical sources, and is expressed in various ways. They are recognized by others as servants of God and the chosen tribe; they practice a code of dress in the Temple; they are subject to special obligations and restrictions; holiness is expressed in marriage prohibitions and the observance of different rules regarding ritual purity and impurity. (These themes are discussed in detail in chapter 2.) The Priestly ideology regarding holiness and ritual purity has led scholars to portray them as a separatist elite group detached from public affairs and the basic needs of the common people. This view is reflected in the dichotomy between the theocentric and anthropocentric world view (Weinfeld 1972; Knohl 1991; 1992 and others). World view: Theocentric versus anthropocentric approach Scholars recognize two theological schools in the biblical writings; one is characterized by its theocentric approach and is reflected in the world view of the group of the Priests, and the other by its anthropocentric approach reflected in the world view of the group of the Sages.17 17

For example, it is accepted among scholars that some of the halakhic approaches of the House of Hillel reflect a more humanistic approach whereas the House of Shammai is more theocentric and stricter. 41

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The theocentric approach reflects a religious world view which suits the closed circle of the learned Priests serving in the Temple, who drew their inspiration from the divine sphere. According to this theory, the priestly vocation demanded a comprehensive knowledge of the observance of particular regulations, because of the Priests’ physical closeness to the divine presence (Weinfeld 1972:179–189; Haran 1978b; Knohl 1992:24–25, 120–184). As a result of this intellectual preoccupation, the Priests were occupied with the Temple and all that pertained to it and were indifferent to the needs of the people. Knohl expresses it in the following way: “In the same way that the priesthood was detached from society, they were detached from the existential needs of the common people and the crises of the nation” (Knohl 1992:148).18 The humanistic approach is reflected mainly in the book of Deuteronomy, which is primarily concerned with the social sphere and committed to the people, and less concerned with issues of ritual purity and impurity. The anthropocentric approach embodies humanistic ideas and moral character such as long life, blessed offspring, material wealth, and an educational approach (Weinfeld 1972). Accordingly, the anthropocentric method was adopted by the group of the Sages and stood in contrast to the group of the Priests (Knohl 1991; cf. Regev 1999:200–211). The above theory is attractive; nevertheless, there are several indications that the dichotomy presented is superficial and does not depict the historical reality of the group of the Priests. Frankel (1997), for example, points out that the dialectical tension between the theocentric and the anthropocentric approaches exists within the world view of the group of the Priests. His examination reveals this duality in the priestly narratives. On the one hand, they express close affinity to the deity and its cult, and on the other hand, they express concern and responsibility for the common people. By creating a historiographic narrative, they not only seek to teach the common people God’s law, but also to illustrate the unfailing love of God for his people. Moreover, the above view coincides with the interconnected duality of the Priests’ responsibility. As mediators between God and his people, the Priests have a responsibility on the one hand, towards the deity and the divine abode. (For a detailed examination, see Knohl 1992:177–180.) By protecting God’s holiness they ensure the people free access to God’s presence and blessing, which entails anthropocentric concern, such as long life, material wealth, family lineage, and health. On the other hand, they are responsible for the entire nation19 and its 18 19

42

The translation from Hebrew to English is by the present writer. I concur with Eisenstadt who states that Jewish collective identity during the Second Temple period had both ethnic and national dimensions. For elaborated discussion see Eisenstadt 1998.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

spiritual welfare. In the deepest consciousness of their social identity, they have a public mission and a national responsibility (Knohl 1992:145–148, 180–183). Unlike those who contend that the group of the Priests was detached from the existential needs of the common people and the crises of the nation, several literary sources indicate the opposite attitude among the Priests (this includes the High and lay Priests) before and after the destruction of the Temple. In what follows I will mention briefly a few cases to demonstrate the involvement of the Priests in public affairs during the three Jewish Revolts. (1) The Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucids According to I and II Maccabees and Josephus,20 the Jewish struggle against the Seleucids was organized by a priestly family, the Hasmonaeans (also called the Maccabeans), which belonged to one of the 24 priestly courses, Yehoyarib (I Chron. 24. 1–18; I Macc. 2.1, Josephus, Ant. XII, 6.1, 265–266; the issue of priestly courses will be discussed shortly). The Seleucids’ religious persecution and provocation provoked an organized popular opposition that began with Mattathias’ charismatic action at Modein around 166 B.C.E. (I Maccabees 2.15– 18), and after he had been joined by his five sons, culminated with the great victory of the Jews over the Seleucids (app. 164 B.C.E.). The political actions that began with Mattathias’ public rebellion undoubtedly had a national impact and were intended to demonstrate moral support for the rural population and at the same time encourage them and other priestly families to rise up and gather around the leadership of the Hasmonaean family (cf. Bar-Kochva 1989:194–297; Shatzman 1991). For this reason, I suggest that the sporadic outbreak of resistance against the Seleucids, led by the Hasmonaeans and other priestly families was a political action which shows that the members of the Priests played a decisive role in the socio-religious and political sphere in times of crisis, and managed to bring the general public together, create new goals, and gain national freedom. (2) The First Jewish Revolt The representation of the Priests in the social, religious, and political spheres is well articulated in the account by Josephus. Their public engagement as described by him can be divided into two distinct spheres; the cultic and the political: Josephus recounts that from the very beginning of the Roman occupation, Pompey was filled with admiration for the Priests’ courage, noticing that they refused to interrupt the cultic ceremonies in the Temple, although beset by a storm of missiles. Josephus further extols the courage of the Priests, remarking 20

Scholars agree that Josephus bases his information primarily on the literary sources of I Maccabbees (cf. Bar-Kochva 1989:189–193). 43

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that during the Great Jewish Revolt when the Temple was torched, the Priests decided to continue their service rather than surrender themselves to the enemy. He writes: “When the Priests saw the enemy advancing sword in hand, they calmly continued their sacred ministrations, and were butchered in the act of pouring libations and burning incense; putting the worship of the Deity above their own preservation” (Josephus, Jewish War I, 7.4–5, 148–151; cf. S. Safrai 1956). I would suggest that the portrayal of the Priests’ character in the above stories as courageous and loyal is of theological and political significance. As mediators between God and His people, they remained faithful to their theocentric and anthropocentric tasks to the very last. Their religious activities are transformed into political activities; their refusal to interrupt the cultic service not only demonstrates their political resistance to the Roman empire, but provides moral support and a heroic example to the general public. In other words, their religious and political actions reveal that the Priests who officiated in the Temple were by no means indifferent to the national tragedy that befell their nation. Josephus informs us that during the Jewish Revolt, the Priests had varying political opinions regarding the Roman occupation. The important point is that whether they sought cooperation or confrontation with the Roman empire, their political actions demonstrate that they were not indifferent to the national crisis or the people’s needs. In this situation, they are portrayed as national leaders who seem to be involved with the general public in their political affairs. The Priests who sought cooperation Josephus narrates that many Priests, both ordinary Priests and High Priests, like Jesus ben Gamala and Ananus ben Ananus, were moderates who sought peace with the Roman empire (cf. Alon 1977:227–228).21 In some cases, they appealed to the revolutionaries: “Thereupon the principal citizens assembled with the chief Priests and the most notable Pharisees … deciding to try to affect an appeal to the revolutionaries, they called the people together before the bronze gate” (Josephus, Jewish War II, 17.3, 411–412). In other cases, they incited the general public to support their political actions and fight against the rebels, as in the case of Ananus ben Ananus the High Priest (Josephus, Jewish War IV, 3.9–13, 160–196). The Priests who sought confrontation Josephus mentions several instances in which High Priests and ordinary Priests sought confrontation with the Romans. Elazar ben Ananias the High Priest, who was appointed captain of the Temple, for example, managed to con21

44

Alon noted that during the Roman siege, many of the High Priests and the sons of the High Priests among the nobility realized that they had little chance of surviving the war and defected to the Roman camp (Josephus, Jewish War VI, 2.2–3, 111–117).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

vince other Priests who officiated in the Temple service to join the opposition by refusing to accept gifts or sacrifices from foreigners. According to Josephus, his political initiative laid the foundation for the war with the Romans (Josephus, Jewish War II, 17.2, 408–410). Josephus informs us that numerous Priests became leaders of the Jewish Revolt and that their influence among the people was immense. Furthermore, these Priests had the authority to appoint commanders for the Revolt, including Josephus. Josephus describes it in the following: Assembling in the Temple, appointing additional generals to conduct the war. Joseph ben Gurion, and Ananus the High Priest were elected to the supreme control of affairs in the city … other generals were selected for Idumaea, namely, Jesus ben Sapphas, one of the chief Priests, and Elazar, son of the High Priest Neus … Joseph ben Simeon was sent to take command at Jericho, Manasseh to Peraea, John the Essene to the province of Tamna … John ben Ananias was appointed commanding officer of the provinces of Gophna and Acrabetta. Josephus ben Matthias was given the two Galilees (Josephus, Jewish War II, 20.3–4, 563–568; Alon 1977:320).22

Moreover, Josephus mentions that the most influential leaders among the Zealots were Priests, like Elazar ben Gion and Zechariah ben Amphicalleus (Josephus, Jewish War IV, 4.1, 225–226). Moreover, many of the Zealots who were eager to initiate the revolts were Priests who officiated in the Temple (Josephus, Jewish War IV, 3.7–8; 152–157). (3) The Priests during the Second Jewish Revolt (Bar-Kokhba) It is hard to know with any certainty whether the Priests took part in the Bar-Kokhba revolt, and if they did, to what extent they were involved, since the literary sources are silent on the matter. However, Goodblatt (1984) was the first scholar to suggest that there was priestly influence on the leaders who initiated the Second Jewish Revolt and that it was priestly ideology which inspired the revolt. Goodblatt bases his assumption mainly on the interpretation of some archaeological finds. I will outline a number of his arguments: (i) On some coins the inscription “Elazar the Priest” appears. There is no evidence as to the identity of Elazar the Priest, but the appearance of the designation “Elazar the Priest” signifies that the Priests played a dominant role in the leadership of the Revolt. The reason he suggests is that Bar-Kokhba probably needed the help of the Priests, who exerted a major influence on the general public. 22

Alon elaborated on the issue with respect to the privileged status enjoyed by the Priests during this period: “Not only did they constitute the majority of the Sanhedrin, but most of the commanders and governors were appointed from among them when the great war broke out (Alon 1977:320). 45

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(ii) The priestly influence is evident in the two horns portrayed on some of the coins; they symbolize the cultic service in the Temple, which was an important symbol of the nation and of the Priests’ own identity. (iii) The Priests were strongly motivated to join the Revolt to prevent the transformation of Jerusalem into a pagan city. (iv) The desire of the Priests to take part in the Second Revolt was threefaceted: to restore the independence of the Jewish nation, to rebuild Jerusalem, and to renew the cultic service. Goodblatt’s arguments are interesting, yet they are mere conjectures. As already stated, we have no real proof of the extent of the Priests’ involvement as a group in the war, but we may assume that it was most probable that as in the other wars, the Priests played a dominant role. The above examination reveals the duality in the world view of the Priests. The involvement of the Priests in socio-religious and political affairs is expressed in two distinct approaches — the theocentric and — anthropocentric which are intimately interwoven in the ideology of the Priests. Specific practices: The priestly gifts and ritual purity The priestly gifts (‫ )מתנות כהונה‬are another feature which may throw light on the lifestyle of the Priests outside the Temple. The Tannaitic literature acknowledges twenty-four gifts to which the Priests were entitled (t. Hallah 2.7–9), such as heave-offerings and tithes, first fruits bikkurim),23 dough offerings (Hallah),24 giving the first born animals (bekhorot), the shoulder, cheeks and maw of any killed animal, and money given in exchange for the redemption of a firstborn son. (For a full list of the priestly gifts and an examination, see Trifon 1985:360–406.) Tannaitic sources and others indicate that even after the destruction of the Temple, the Priests continued to receive priestly gifts.25 Our preliminary concern is to examine the lifestyle of the Priests in relation to the practice of heave-offerings and ritual purity; these issues, as will be demonstrated later, played a dominant role in the process of generating a counterhegemony by the group of the Sages (chapter 5). The Priests are often addressed by the Sages as ‫אוכלי תרומה‬, those who eat the heave-offering (m. Hagigah 2.7; m. Tohorot 2.6; t. Terumot 6.4; t. Eduyyot 3.1 and others). They are also addressed as ‫המסייעין על הגרנות‬, meaning those who make the rounds of the threshing floors (t. Demai 5.20). 23 24 25

46

See glossary. See glossary. In the episte of the Emperor Julian (311–363) “Contra Galilaeos” he writes: “That the Jews do sacrifice in their own houses, and even to this day everything that they eat is consecrated; and they pray before sacrificing, and give the right shoulder to the Priests as the first fruits” (Stern 1980:542). Regarding the epistle of Julian see Stern ibid. 502–511.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

In the following, I will examine the socio-religious implications of these appellations. According to biblical regulations, the heave-offering is considered a gift to the Lord that must be separated from agricultural produce and given to the Priests26 (cf. Deut. 18.4; the system of separating the heave-offering is discussed in detail in chapter 5, pp. 259–262). The heave-offering is considered holy and can only be eaten by the Priest and members of his household. These include his wife, his children, and his nonJewish slaves (Num. 18.11, 31). The idea that the heave-offering was the property of the Priests was a widespread convention in Jewish society and was practiced even after the destruction of the Temple. Moreover, the heave-offering was their livelihood and a kind of occupation, as we will shortly see. Eating the heave-offering in a state of ritual purity The Priests had to be considered ritually pure, a condition which could only be secured by constant physical purification and sanctification (Weinfeld 1972). It should be noted that despite the fact that other groups lived in a state of purity to various degrees (Alon 1977:169–176; Büchler 1956; S. Safrai 1983a; Ravid 2002 and others), for the Priests, living in a constant state of holiness was an imperative condition; it was a prerequisite of the Priests performance of the cultic service in the Temple and outside of it, and use of the heave-offerings. The Tosefta, for example, specifies that a Priest who was perceived as ritually unclean or who married a woman who was unfit for the priesthood, i.e. a divorcee, was no longer accorded the privileges of the priestly clan, such as receiving heave-offerings on the threshing floor (t. Terumot 10.18; this issue is discussed elsewhere; cf. chapter 2, pp. 70–77). Moreover, after the destruction of the Temple, eating the heave-offering was perceived as equivalent to performing an act of cultic service in the Temple. The narrative below, which has a humorous flavor, will illustrate this point: When R. Tarfon (who was a Priest) was delayed in coming to beit ha’midrash, Rabban Gamaliel II asked him why he was delayed? R. Tarfon answered that he was in fact performing an act of the divine service. Rabban Gamaliel II was perplexed by his answer and replied: “Isn’t your reply a bit astounding; is there any divine service to be performed [since the Temple was destroyed]?” R. Tarfon replied that eating the Holy Things [heave-offering] outside the Temple was equivalent to the service in the sanctuary itself (Sifre Numbers 116). The idea expressed by R. Tarfon coincides with the general assumption that the priestly families 26

The idea that the “gift to the Lord” is synonymous with the “gifts to the Priest” is reflected in biblical law (Deut. 18.1–7). 47

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were perhaps stricter in observing ritual purity than other social groups or social categories after the destruction of the Temple (cf. Alon 1989:102). The statement below indicates that this attitude continued to play a significant role during the Amoraitic period. From the day that the Temple was destroyed, the Priests enhanced their dignity by not entrusting matters of ritual purity to everybody (b. Bekhorot 30b; cf. b. Qiddushin 78.b; j. Bikkurim 1.5, 64a).

Eating food in ritual purity at all times by the Priests demanded a certain lifestyle that permitted it. The halakhah27 below gives us a glimpse of this lifestyle. From what time may they recite the Shema in the evening? From the hour the Priests enter [their homes] to eat their heave-offerings. (m. Berakhot 1.1).

The Tannaitic Sages inform us indirectly about the custom of eating the heaveoffering in a state of ritual purity, which continued to be practiced by the Priests after the destruction of the Temple. According to the Priests’ own halakhah, they were required first to have a daily ritual bath and then wait until the end of the day, until sunset, in order to be completely ritually pure (tvol yom).28 Only after sunset were the Priests allowed to handle the heave-offerings and the holy things as prescribed in Leviticus: “When the sun is down he shall be clean and afterwards he may eat of the holy things, because such are his food” (Lev. 22.7; cf. m. Hallah 1.9; m. Bikkurim 2.1; Oppenheimer 1977:56). Moreover, Ginzberg suggested that the fact that the Sages used the time of eating the heave-offering (which required ritual bathing) as an indication of the proper time for the recital of the Shema implied that the eating of the heaveoffering was a widespread convention in Jewish society. He goes on to suggest that ritual bathing was a common practice even among those Priests who were not considered ritually impure (Ginzberg 1941:7). Although the evidence below is post-Tannaitic, it is most valuable, since it indicates that the practice of Priests eating the heave-offering in a state of ritual purity continued long after the destruction of the Temple. Let us examine that evidence: It once happened that a man during a conversation said: “I remember when I was a child and riding on my father’s shoulder, they took me out of school and stripped me of my tunic and immersed me so that I could eat Terumah in the evening.” And R. Hiyya added: “And my friends held aloof from me and called me ‘Johanan the Halloth-eater’”. And Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] recognized his status as a Priest, based on his story” (b. Ketubot 26a). 27 28

48

See glossary, halakhot. See glossary.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

The story above has several important implications: First, it indicates that the Priests had a distinct lifestyle that was characterized by eating the heave-offering in a state of ritual purity. Second, it indicates that there was daily interaction between Priests and non-Priests. The fact that children from a priestly background went to the same school with other children from a non-priestly background indicates that there was an intimate co-existence between Priests and non-Priests; despite the fact that the Priests had to be scrupulous with regard to the laws of ritual purity and impurity, they did not eschew contact with their non-priestly friends. Third, the above story reveals that priestly identity is recognized by others by its particular diacritical features, namely the practice of eating priestly gifts. The child in the above story is identified by a particular diacritical feature of eating the Halloth and was even named: “Johanan the Halloth Eater.”29 Fourth, this diacritical feature was sufficient to confirm the boy’s status as a Priest in his later years. Those who make the rounds of the threshing floor Visiting the threshing floor was another diacritical feature which signified the social identity of the Priests. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says, “Just as, [when produce is] distributed at the threshing floor, [a person’s receiving] heave-offering is prima facie evidence [that he is a member] of the priesthood, so too, [when produce is] distributed at the threshing floor, [a person’s receiving] first tithe is prima facie evidence [that he is a member] of the Levites (t. Peah 4.5; cf. t. Ketubot 3.1).

Rabban Gamaliel II in the above halakhah states that just as the act of the Priests visiting the threshing floor and demanding the heave-offering is a diacritical feature for identifying the Priests, the same is true of the Levites who visit the threshing floor in order to demand the first tithe. To put the matter a bit differently, visiting the threshing floor is recognized by others as a distinct diacritical feature practiced by the Priests.30 The following parable is most valuable since it reflects the sitz im leben of the Tannaitic period.

29

30

Hallah is one of the priestly gifts that was given to the Priest. It is the portion removed from the dough and given to the Priests (Num. 15:17–21). Eating the Hallah, like eating the heaveoffering, signified that the Priests had to live in a state of ritual purity. This idea is also expressed in the following halakhah. Priests and Levites who stand by the threshing floor [waiting to be given the gifts due them, heave-offering and first tithe] (t. Peah 4.3). 49

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Rabbi says: “There is a parable: to what is the matter comparable? To two brothers, who were Priests, living in the same town. This one had a son, and that one had three sons. They went out to the threshing floor [to collect the priestly dues]. This one took one seah31 of grain, and this took three seahs. Then they went and brought them to their fathers. And the fathers went and divided up the grain equally between them (Sifra 132; cf. j. Baba Batra 8.1, 16a).

The above parable is used by Rabbi to better convey the message of his teaching. Rabbi uses a vivid example taken from everyday life so that his audience can better relate to the story. In other words, the parable indicates that the practice of Priests visiting the threshing floor was a widespread phenomenon in Jewish society. There are several halakhot32 which seems to restrict the monopoly of the Priests and the Levites on the threshing floor. The wives or slaves [of Priests] they may not apportion them [priestly offerings] at the threshing floor. But they may give them priestly or Levitical gifts as favor (t. Peah 4.4).

From the above halakhah we learn that the wives and slaves of the Priests and Levites also visited the threshing floor to demand the heave-offering or the first tithe. The above stipulations which prohibit, for example, the wives of Priestly and their slaves from collecting the heave-offering clearly indicates that this custom was practiced by them. Priests and Levites who were assisting at the threshing floors were not given heaveofferings and tithes as salary (t. Demai 5.20).

The above halakhah is another stipulation which seeks to restrict the Priests’ and Levites’ monopoly on the threshing floor. (This idea is elaborated in chapter 5.) Accordingly, it was customary among certain Priests to perform a service for the owner of the threshing floor, and the Sages opposed this custom. According to the halakhah, Priests entitled to receive the heave-offering were not allowed to help on the threshing floor, since if they did, the heave-offering would be conceived as a salary for their services, thus devaluing the offering. Nevertheless, it seems that the custom of donating a service to the owner on the threshing floor was also widespread during the Amoraitic period. The Babylonian Talmud, for example, informs us that there were three locations

31 32

50

See glossary. See glossary.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

where the Priests (along with the Levites and the poor)33 used to “visit” and “lend a hand”: (i) the threshing floor, (ii) the house of the shepherd where they received the firstling, and (iii) the slaughtering place where they had the right to receive the gifts of the shoulder, the jaws, and the maw (b. Bekhorot 26b). The inevitable question one needs to ask is: If the Priests had the right to receive the heave-offering, why did they insist on helping in the threshing house and other places? Several Talmudic commentators suggest that the prevailing competition among Priests (cf. t. Peah 4.3) motivated them to secure their positions by establishing good relations with the owner of the threshing floor and rendering assistance. As for assistance in the home of the shepherd or on the threshing floor, the following explanation has been suggested: in order that a firstborn animal will not be considered ritually blemished, the Israelite had to care for the animal for fifty days. However, if the Priest offered his help and was willing to care for the firstborn during this period, he would actually save the Israelite expense and effort. In return, the Priest could thus take possession of his portion and thereby prevent any other Priest from claiming it. By the same token, a Priest who assisted on the threshing floor would receive payment for his services. The idea of helping the owner at the threshing floor, for example, is intimately related to the practice of the priestly blessing outside the Temple, as we will see in the following. The priestly blessing outside the Temple The priestly blessing through the raising of hands is another diacritical feature of the Priests. The custom seems to have been so widespread that it became the second mark of the Priest next to receiving the heave-offering. There are two presumptive grounds for a person’s being deemed to be in the priesthood in the Land of Israel: Raising up hands [in the priestly benediction] and sharing heave-offering (t. Ketubot 3.1; cf. t. Sotah 7.8).

This Tannaitic source explicitly stipulates that a Priest was recognized by his ability to spread his hands in the priestly benediction, and if he was recognized as such he had the right to demand heave offerings. If he [being a Priest] knows how to spread his hands [in priestly benediction] the heave-offering may be shared out to him at the threshing floor (b. Sukkah 42a).

Here again the Priest is discussed by Sages in terms of these two diacritical features, namely the Priestly benediction and receiving the heave-offering. 33

The Priests received the heave-offering, the Levites the first tithes, and the poor had the right to receive the poor men’s tithing every third year. 51

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The traditional locations where the Priests used to raise their hands were at the Temple and outside the Temple, e.g. the synagogue (m. Tamid 7.2; m. Taanit 4.1; j. Berakhot 5.4, 9d). (The topic of the priestly blessing is discussed futher in chapter 2, pp. 69–80.) However, I suggest that the Priests used to give a prayer blessing when they visited the threshing floors or the shepherds’ homes. My suggestion is deduced from the following parable, which reflects the sitz im leben of the Tannaitic period. A parable is told about a Priest who went to the threshold in order to receive heaveoffering and tithe and the owner of the threshold came and gave him heave-offering and [the Priest] did not show him gratitude. He gave him tithe and [the Priest] did not show him gratitude. When the owner of the threshold gave the Priest all that he was entitled to receive, the owner of the threshold gave him [the Priest] an extra portion of unconsecrated produce. Only then did the Priest show him gratitude and pray for him. They asked him: “When the owner of the threshold gave you the heaveoffering and tithe you did not show him gratitude, and now that he gave you a small portion of unconsecrated produce you showed him gratitude.” [The Priest] answered them: The first [gifts] the heave-offering and the tithe are mine, and what belongs to me I took. But the portion [of unconsecrated produce] that he added, belonged to him, therefore I showed him gratitude (Tanhumah 9).

The parable tells the story of a Priest who was scrupulous in his observance of the halakhic regulations. From the story above, the exemplary behavior of the Priest stands in contrast to the practice of Priests who used to offer a priestly prayer when they visited the threshing floor. I suggest that in order to secure their position in the place where they used to receive their priestly tithes, they granted a favor to the owner by helping him on the threshing floor and bestowing on him a priestly prayer.

Norms and obligations relating to the functions of the Priests Scholarly examination clearly indicates that the functions of the Priests did not cease completely after the destruction of the Temple and that some of them were still performed outside the Temple during the Tannaitic period (Alon 1989:21–22; Kimelman 1983; S. Safrai 1977; Trifon 1985). It is the task of this monograph to examine the functions of the Priests and to discover to what extent the Priests continued to perform their tasks after the destruction of the Temple. 52

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

The roles of the Priests And said R. Simeon: “Whoever does not affirm the efficacy of the cult has no share in the priesthood.” Said R. Simeon: “Not that alone, but [if one does not affirm the validity of] the acts of kindling, mixing oil and cereal, breaking up the pieces of the wafers of the cereal-offerings, salting them, waving them, bringing them near, burning them up, taking up the handfuls, pinching the necks of birds, receiving the blood of offerings, sprinkling the offerings, administering the bitter water to the accused wives, breaking the neck of the heifer in the case of a neglected corpse, conducting the purification rite of the person afflicted with a skin ailment, raising up of hands in the priestly blessing both within the Temple and outside, [how do we know that he has no share in the priesthood]? The scriptures states: among the sons of Aaron, encompassing every act of cultic service that is assigned to the sons of Aaron” (Sifra Zav, Parashah 11. 16).

The list above specifies some of the cultic functions recognized by the Tannaitic Sages as exclusively priestly. By doing so they not only give recognition to the priestly roles with respect to their activities in and outside the Temple, but they also confirm the existence of the social identity of the group of the Priests. In the following, I will examine several functions performed during the First and the Second Temple periods. Scholars divide the Priests’ activities into the four following orders. (See Haran 1978b for detail information; cf. Trifon 1985:277–322.) (a) Cultic functions before 70 C.E. There are several duties pertaining to the cultic function. The most central to it are: (1) Offering the sacrifices on the altar which stood in the Temple court.34 (2) Carrying the ark, which was a distinguishing feature of the priesthood that had been discontinued during the period of the First Temple (Deut. 10.8; 31.9, 25; I Sam. 4.4, 11). (3) Blessing the people in the name of God (Deut. 10.8; ibid. 21.5; Num. 6.22–26). (4) Sounding the trumpet or the shofar (horn). These tasks were carried out exclusively by the Priests, as often demonstrated in the Bible.35 Moreover, 34

35

At the beginning of Leviticus it is mentioned that the Priestly role in this ceremony involves two main activities: sprinkling the blood and burning a portion of the sacrifices. See e.g. Num. 10.8, 31.6; Ez. 3.10; Neh. 12.35; Josephus, Ant. III, 7.6, 291; ibid. XII, 7.3, 306; ibid. VIII, 94; cf. Goodblatt 1984:128, n. 62. Moreover, Goodblatt mentions that the issue of blowing the horn is discussed extensively in the Qumeranic literature. He suggests that their preoccupation with this issue is due to their priestly background. 53

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the fact that the task of blasting (especially the horn) was reserved exclusively for the Priests, especially in the Temple, is testified to repeatedly by the Tannaitic Sages: during the Second Temple, the Priests (usually the lay Priests) used to blow the trumpet or the shofar on a number of occasions: the Day of Atonement and Jubilees (Sifre Numbers 75); public fasting (m. Taanit 2.5); the waterdrawing celebration (Simchat beit ha sho’eva)36 (m. Sukkah 5.4); during the offering of the Tamid37 (m. Tamid 7.3); on the Day of Assembly (t. Sotah 7.15); and at other events which took place in the Temple (m. Sukkah 5.4–5). (For a detailed description see Bar-Ilan 1982:35–42.) Cultic functions after the destruction of the Temple In the following, I will examine the cultic functions that continued to be practiced by the Priests during the Tannaitic period. (1) Offering the sacrifices Scholars disagree as to whether the sacrifices continued to be offered after the destruction. It should be emphasized that the sources do not indicate that the offering of sacrifices was practiced during the Tannaitic period. (For a scholarly review, see Trifon 1985:279–281.) (2) The priestly blessing As already demonstrated, the priestly blessing is one of the cultic functions which continued to be practiced for many centuries, even in the synagogues (outside the Temple), and became one of the dominant distinguishing features of priesthood. And they [the Priests] blessed the people one blessing, but outside the Temple they would say it in three blessings and in the Temple as one blessing … outside the Temple the Priests raise their hands only to shoulder level and in the Temple above their heads (m. Tamid 7.2).

Moreover, the priestly blessing was acknowledged by the Sages as a cultic service by which God blesses his people through the Priests (Sifre Numbers 43). (3) Sounding the trumpet and the shofar Alon suggested that blowing the trumpet or Shofar continued to be practiced by the Priests (Alon 1977:126–129).38 Alon based his argument on the narrative 36 37 38

54

See glossary. See glossary. As opposed to Alon and Goodblatt, Büchler argued that the blowing of the shofar was not done in the Temple and that the task was not exclusively that of the Priest (Alon 1977:129, n. 83).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

about R. Halafta and R. ben Teradyon who stipulated the obligation of sounding the shofar and the trumpet by the Priests outside the Temple, according to the custom in the Temple (m. Taanit 2.5; t. Taanit 1.13). Moreover, Goodblatt, basing his argument on the interpretation of archaeological finds, states that the motifs of the two trumpets and other priestly elements which appear on some of the coins of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt, testify to the priestly inspiration which prevailed among the leaders. He further states that it may be deduced from the motif of the two trumpets that the Priests continued to blow the horn during the war (Goodblatt 1984:127–129). (b) Mantic functions These functions were concerned with predicting the future in order to make decisions in uncertain cases, through the revelation of divine will. There were three types of mantic functions: (a) the High Priest consults the “Urim and Tummim”;39 (Num. 27.21); (b) solutions by lots; (c) the conduct of ceremonies in order to resolve doubtful cases.40 Most of these functions had ceased to be practiced by the Priests during the Second Temple period. Haran (1978b) points out that it can be deduced from the book of Ezrah that when the Priests returned from Babylon they could not verify their priestly origin and could not eat the heave-offering until they could find a Priest who was able to “consult Urim and Tummim” (Ez. 2.62–63; cf. Neh. 7.65 and for extensive discussion see Trifon 1985:285–287). (c) Dealing with impurities and diseases through the rites of purification Dealing with impurities and diseases was exclusively the task of the Priests. These tasks involved rites of purification which were conducted under the guidance of the Priests (Deut. 24.8, 21.5; Ez. 44.23). Through these rites the Priests had to “examine the diseased,” “pronounce the person ritually unclean,” “quarantine the diseased,” and “pronounce the person ritually clean” (Lev. 13; 14). Dealing with impurities and diseases was identified by Tannaitic Sages as solely the task of the Priests, as reflected in the following halakhot. (For extensive discussion about the different tasks of the Priests relating to impurities and diseases during the biblical and Tannaitic period see Bar-Ilan 1982:117–165.) 1. For the [actual declaration of] uncleanness and cleanness is in the hands of a Priest (m. Negaim 3.1; cf. Sifra Tazriah, Parashah 1.5). 2. Two who came to a Priest, on one is a bright spot the size of a split bean (m. Negaim 5.4; cf. ibid. 5.5). 39 40

See glossary. One example of such a ceremony is the case of a suspected adulteress (Num. 5.11–31). 55

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3. There is a man who shows his plague spot to a Priest and is rewarded, and there is a man who shows his plague spot [to a Priest] and he loses out (m. Negaim 8.10). 4. [How do you know] a Priest who is an expert in plagues … until he is an expert in them and in their names (t. Negaim 1.2). The question is whether the Tannaitic halakhot reflect the reality of their time or of an earlier period. S. Safrai has pointed out that after the destruction of the Temple there were many laws of purity and impurity relating to the Temple and its service which continued to be observed by the Priests for many generations afterwards. The lepers, for example, were purified by the Priests, although technically it was impossible to offer a sacrifice (S. Safrai 1983a). The following halakhah is most instructive, since it explicitly states that the task of the Priests was performed before and after the destruction of the Temple. Said R. Yehudah: “I was spending the Sabbath and I went to R. Tarfon’s house. He said to me: “Yehudah my son, give me my sandal!” and I gave him [his sandal]. He put his hand out of the window, and he took a staff from there. He said to me: “My son, with this [staff] I have purified three lepers. And I learned from it [the staff] seven laws: (i) That it is of cypress-wood. (ii) And its head is smooth and planed. (iii) Its length is a cubit. (iv) And its breadth is a fourth of the thickness of the leg of a bed, divided one into two, and then two into four. (v) They sprinkle, they repeat, and they do it a third time [with the same piece of wood]. (vi) And they purify both while the Temple was standing and while the Temple was not standing. (vii) And they purify in the provinces” (t. Negaim 8.2; cf. Sifra Metsorah, Parashah 1.13).

Moreover, S. Safrai further revealed that the Priests continued to purify the ritually impure with the water of purification, by using ashes of the red heifer that remained after the days of the Second Temple. It should be emphasized, however, that slaughtering the red heifer and the process of preparing its ashes had to be done in the Temple by the Priests. Thus, the preparation of the ashes of the red heifer ceased with the destruction of the Temple, but the sprinkling of the purification water continued to be practiced by the Priests as long as they could obtain the ashes of the red heifer. Accordingly, there are several indications that the ashes of the red heifer were found outside Jerusalem, in different places such as Beit She‘arim and Beit Otni (t. Parah 5.6; t. Parah 10.2), and that they were divided among the priestly families (m. Parah 3.11; t. Parah 3.14). This seems to indicate that even though it was permissible for all to perform the sprinkling (m. Parah 12.10; cf. t. Parah 12.8; b. Arakhin 3a; t. Parah 12.6), in reality it was exclusively performed by the Priests. This idea is further supported by the fact that each time the sources mention the task of sprinkling of purification water, they always relate it to the Priests (S. Safrai 1983a). 56

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

(d) Teaching and judging the people before 70 C.E. As will be demonstrated (chapter 3, pp. 126–140), the Sages sought to undermine the role of the Priests as instructors of the law. The sources, nevertheless, reveal that throughout the biblical period one of the dominant tasks of the Priests was to judge and to teach the law (Jer. 18.18; Ez. 7.26; Ez. 7.10). These tasks, however, did not exclusively belong to the group of the Priests (cf. Haran 1978b).41 This situation continues throughout the Second Temple period, and is mentioned by different literary sources (Sirach 45.17; cf. Aristeas 121–128; Herr 1979). Philo, for example, writes: “He should decline to judge the cases and send up more discerning judges and who should these be but the Priests” (Philo, Special Laws IV, 190–192). In another place, Philo mentions that the Priests played a dominant role in the synagogue service (Jeremias 1969:207). Moreover, the Greek sources that mention the scribes as a distinct social category describe their main function as judges in the Supreme Court and as instructors of the law. The examination of Jeremias (1969), however, reveals that many of these scribes were Priests who either belonged to the priestly aristocrats or were common Priests. (This topic is discussed in chapter 2, pp. 95–99.) After the destruction of the Temple Despite the fact that the Tannaitic Sages disregarded the group of the Priests as instructors of the law, as in the case of Mishna Abot 1.1 (cf. chapter 3, pp. 128–130), the Tannaitic sources indicate in various ways that the Priests continued to function both as judges and as teachers. And though shalt come, to include the high court at Jabneh.. “Unto the Priests and Levites” It is a commandment to have Priests and Levites in the court. If it is a command then is a court lacking Priests and Levites disqualified? It is said “and to the judge” even when Priests and Levites are absent it is still a qualified court (Sifre Deuteronomy 153).

The above halakhah reveals that despite the policy of the Sages to acquire the judicial status of the Priests, the Priests continued to retain their judicial status. The following story indicates that they were expected to function as instructors of the law. [Beloved are the Priests.] When he names them, he names them only as angels of service, as it is said: For the Priest’s lips will guard knowledge, and the Torah will be sought from his mouth, for he is an angel of the Lord of hosts (Mal. 2.7). When the 41

The scripture indicates that during the biblical period, the judges and the elders of the family participated in judging together with the Priests (Deut. 17.9; cf. 19.17). 57

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Torah goes forth from his mouth, lo, he is like the ministering angels, and if not, lo, he is like a wild beast or [worse still] a domesticated beast that does not recognize its Master (Sifre Numbers 119).

From the above inquiry I suggest that the Priests continued to function as judges and instructors of the law after the destruction of the Temple. However, it is hard to pinpoint to what degree they were involved in the synagogue service or beit ha’midrash as instructors of the law, and whether they had their own schools, High Courts, etc. The above examination reveals the following: (i) The Priests had various functions outside the Temple by which they were recognized by others. (ii) These functions were performed outside the Temple before and after the destruction of the Temple. (iii) These practices illustrate that the Priests had a sense of group belonging. (iv) These functions demonstrate that the Priests interacted with the common people in several social contexts.

58

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

THE ORGANIZATION OF THE GROUP OF THE PRIESTS

Organization is “the arrangement of personnel for facilitating the accomplishment of some agreed purpose through the allocation of function and responsibilities” (Gaus in Selznick 1948:25). For the sociologist and anthropologist, a social organization is a system of consciously coordinated activities by which goals are achieved and without which a group cannot exist. However, whereas the sociologist Weber, as we will shortly see, conceived organization as a channel through which power is exemplified, the social anthropologist A. Cohen perceives the organizational functions primarily as the means by which group identity and consciousness is forged. Cohen states the idea as follows: “The organization of the group consists of the development and maintenance of mechanisms or patterns of activities that are aimed at the solution of a number of basic operational problems: the problem of distinctiveness, of communication, decision-making, authority, ideology, and discipline” (A. Cohen 1974:66). Using this conceptual framework, I will proceed to examine several components demonstrating that the group of the Priests was highly organized both before and after the destruction of the Temple, i.e. had a highly structured organization relating to the Temple and its cult, the practice of endogamy, with their own court, the priestly courses, their immigration to the Galilee, etc.

The organization of the Priests inside the Temple realm The literary sources portray the group of the Priests as highly organized around the Temple and its service, as reflected in different levels of organizational functions: During the Second Temple period, the service in the Temple was divided into twenty-four priestly courses, based on biblical law (I Chron. 24–26).42 Accordingly, each priestly course served in rotation in the Temple from Saturday to Saturday. 42

The number twenty-four is specified in I Chronicles (24.1–19) and is mentioned as well by Josephus (Josephus, Ant. VII, 14.7, 363–366) and in the Tannaitic literature (t. Taanit 2.1). 59

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In practice, it meant that each priestly course served for two weeks each year in the Temple43 (cf. S. Safrai 1956; Haran 1978b; Jeremias 1969:147–181). From the literary sources I conclude that the priestly course interchanged with the outgoing priestly course on Saturday, after they had made the sacrifice of the burnt offering. When the members of the priestly course began their service in the Temple, they were gathered at mid-day in the Temple to receive the key to the building from the outgoing priestly course and all its vessels in their numbers (cf. Josephus, Against Apion II, 8, 108; Ant. VII, 14.7, 363–366; cf. Luke 1.5; b. Sukkah 56b). The priestly courses, however, were divided according to their fathers’ house, and comprised between four to nine fathers’ houses led by the head of the father’s house.44 The heads of the priestly courses went and divided themselves into fathers’ houses. Each priestly course which is divided into four, five, six, seven, eight, or nine … Whoever knows for sure his priestly course and his father’s house and who belongs to a father’s house on a fixed day, is prohibited [to drink wine] only on that day (t. Taanit 2.1–2).

One verification for the practice of the weekly interchange of priestly courses in the Temple is the procedure of registering the day, month, and name of the priestly course on the seals used in the purchase of wine for the drink offering in the Temple. The procedure of the payment for the drink offering is described in Mishna Sheqalim (5.4–5). The purpose of the seals, however, was to ensure that the purchase had been paid for, in exchange for which the drink offering was to be provided. We are told that Johanan ben Pinhas, who was in charge of the seals, (ibid. 5.1), collected the money and that Ahiah, who was in charge of the drink offerings, had the responsibility of purchasing the wine from suppliers, then handing over the necessary drink offering. In line with the description above, the Jerusalem Talmud adds that it was customary to register the day, the month, and the name of each priestly course on the seals used in the purchase of wine-libations in the Temple. (For other evidence cf. Haran1978b.) The name of the priestly course was written [on the seal] … the name of the day, the week and the month was written on them (j. Sheqalim 5.1, 49a; cf. m. Sheqalim 5.3).

During the one-week service, each father’s house had overall responsibility for the sacrificial service in the Temple for one day. The different tasks to be carried 43

44

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Scholars point out that during the festivals all the priestly courses served together in the Temple. The head of the father’s house was responsible for the keys of the Temple.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

out by the members of the specific father’s house were decided by casting a lot, as we will shortly see. The bureaucratic system in the Temple The model of bureaucratic organization according to Weber According to Weber (1947), bureaucracy is the most efficient form of organization, based on his ideas concerning the legitimacy of power. Weber opined that bureaucratic organization “is the highest degree of efficiency and in this sense formally the most rational known means of carrying out imperative control over human beings” (Weber 1947:337). Weber, however, pointed out that this type of bureaucracy is not unique to modern Western countries, but is a universal social phenomenon common to large-scale private organizations, political parties, hospitals, armies, and religious orders, such as the administrative role of the priesthood in the church. In the following, I will outline Weber’s main features of the bureaucratic system: (i) A system of supervision and subordination organized in a clearly defined hierarchy of offices. The organization of offices follows the principle of hierarchy; each lower office is under the control and supervision of a higher one. (ii) In each organization there is a defined division of labor in which offices or positions within the bureaucracy are divided into different hierarchical sections. The power is attached to the position and not to the person who exercises it. (iii) Specialized knowledge — the tasks of the organization are divided into specified spheres of competence which are given to separate offices. (iv) System of abstract rules — each office or domain has a defined sphere of competence which is clearly specified by a set of rules. These rules may be articulated and recorded in writing, but they can also be applied to oral discussions. These norms prescribe the conduct of an office so that those who perform the tasks know what is expected of them. (v) They are paid fixed salaries — the salary is graded according to the rank in the hierarchy. (vi) Promotion is earned according to seniority or to achievement or both. (vii) It is the task of the administration to look after the interests of the organization. (viii) The structure of the organization requires a pattern of coordination between different sections of the organization, and the ability to further develop communications between its various organs. This kind of coordination of activities may be achieved through a systematic ordering of positions and duties which defines a chain of command and makes possible the administrative integration of specialized functions (Weber 1947:324–341). 61

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In light of Weber’s theoretical framework, I will examine the organizational and administrative pattern of the coordinated actions in the Temple. From the period of Ezrah onward, there was a great concentration of the cultic service in the Temple. This resulted in the creation of a systematic and complex organizational framework. The new organizational system led to the rotation of the priestly courses with respect to the functional division of labor between the Priests as shown above.45 This led to an inner hierarchy within the group of the Priests, according to the various roles delegated to them and their degree of importance. In practice, it meant that members of the high priesthood and other prominent priestly families controlled senior positions, such as treasurer and trustee, whereas ordinary Priests occupied less important posts. (For detailed information regarding the functions of the Priests in the Temple see Büchler 1966:69–88; cf. Haran 1978b; Urbach 1975:575–576; Jeremias 1969:147–181.) It should, however, be pointed out that there are several models of hierarchy in the Temple (t. Horayot 2.10; cf. j. Sheqalim 5.2, 49a; m. Yoma 7.1). In the following, I will present a model of the inner structure of the organization system in the Temple, according to the Tannaitic sources. A closer examination of the sources reveals that this organization had a complex and elaborate structure. Our model demonstrates that the organizational system in the Temple entailed the co-existence of several hierarchies. The ordinary Priests and their tasks in the Temple The service in the Temple was conducted mainly by the ordinary Priests, who were at the lowest level of the Priests’ hierarchy. However, all the duties performed by the priestly course were divided between the fathers’ houses by casting a lot. The casting of lots enabled all the Priests to be involved in the service of offering the sacrifice, which was considered the essential task of the Priests. During the one-week service in the Temple, the ordinary Priests had different tasks to perform. We can divide their tasks into the following: (i) Preparing the sanctuary for worship. They had different tasks, such as the removal of the ashes of the sacrifices consumed on the altar during the night, kindling the candelabrum in the sanctuary, opening or locking the sanctuary gates, checking the vessels so they would be in their appointed places, and confirming that the Temple was not ritually defiled (m. Tamid 1.4). (ii) Preparing the offerings. This included slaughtering the animal and cutting it into pieces before bringing it to the altar (m. Yoma 2.3). (It should 45

62

It should be noted that although all the cultic functions were carried out by the Priests, the Sages were able to penetrate the realm of the Temple and its service and exert some influence with respect to the interpretation of these cultic functions.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

be mentioned, however, that both of the duties mentioned above were usually carried out by the ordinary Priests.) (iii) Sacrificial duties. It was the duty of the Priests to offer sacrifices, which included communal and individual sacrifices: The whole offering (‫ )תמיד‬was offered twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, whereas the obligatory and free offerings were sacrificed between the daily whole offerings. The free offerings were mainly: burnt offerings (‫)עולות‬, peace-offerings (‫)שלמים‬, thanks-offerings (‫)תודות‬, and different kinds of meal-offerings (‫)מנחות‬. The obligatory offerings consisted of sin-offerings (‫)חטאות‬, guilt-offerings (‫)אשמות‬, and various types of purification offerings (S. Safrai 1956). (iv) Preparing and burning the incense (m. Tamid 5.2).46 (v) Bestowing the priestly benediction on the people. (vi) The participation of the Priests in the rites of singing and sounding the trumpets. The clearly prescribed tasks of the common Priests illustrate that those who were ministering in the Temple were well aware of what was expected of them. The superintendents The Tannaitic sources describe certain Priests within the group of the Priests as “they who are appointed” in the sanctuary as officers. Their social position within the ranks of the priesthood was distinguished from that of the ordinary Priests. First, these Priests, in contrast to the ordinary Priests, had permanent work in the Temple. Second, they received a salary for their work, and third, some of them could be promoted in the hierarchy, as we shall see in the case of the captain of the Temple. The sources indicate that there were two major functions performed by the superintendents: the first was related primarily to the tasks pertaining to the Temple and its service, and the second was the administration of the service of the ordinary Priests: (1) The tasks of the superintendents pertaining to the Temple and its service Within the range of the superintendents’ tasks relating to the operation of the Temple there were two kinds of professions: (a) the administrators of the Temple and (b) those who had specialized knowledge. (a) The administrators of the Temple The sources mention a broad spectrum of administrative tasks carried out by the superintendents. I will first rank the superintendents in the hierarchical 46

Only Priests who had never burned incense could participate in the lottery (m. Tamid 5.2). Moreover, burning incense was considered the most important ritual performance of the day. 63

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order of the Temple administration: (i) the High Priest, (ii) the captain of the Temple, (iii) the controller, (iv) the supervisor, (v) the treasurer (their positions will be discussed shortly), (vi) the superintendents-administrators, (vii) the head of the weekly course, (viii) the head of the daily course. (The position of the last two has already been discussed above.) The superintendents-administrators The sources inform us that there were different kinds of superintendents with different administrative responsibilities for certain domains in the Temple, such as closing the gates and overseeing the bird offerings or the drink offerings. (b) Those who had specialized knowledge There were specific professions that required Priests with particular knowledge and skills to carry out certain tasks pertaining to the Temple, such as making the show bread or preparing the incense. These skills were the preserve of certain priestly families, since they were transmitted from father to son. (This issue will be elaborated on in chapter 2, pp. 85–90.) The list below, which is constructed from two sources, gives us a glimpse of the various tasks carried out by those who were appointed in the sanctuary. These are the appointed [as officers] in the Temple: (i) Johanan ben Pinhas on the seals. (ii) Ahiah on the drink offerings. (iii) Matthew ben Shmuel on the lots. (iv) Petahiah on the bird offerings. (v) Ben Ahiah on bowel sickness. (vi) Nehuniah digs ditches [for water]. (vii) Gebini is the herald. (viii) Ben Geber on closing the gates. (ix) Ben Bebai on the knout. (x) Ben Arzah on the cymbals. (xi) Hugras ben Levi on the singing. (xii) The house of Garmu on making Show Bread. (xiii) The house of Abtinas on preparing the incense. (xiv) Elazar on the holy curtain. (xv) Pinhas on the clothing (m. Sheqalim 5.1).

The Tosefta adds other tasks to this list: (xvi) Ben Totephet on the keys. (xvii) Ben Diphai on the palm branch. (xviii) Ben Arzah on the Priestly pulpit. (xiv) Benjamin on the stoves. (xv) Samuel on the dough offering. (xvi) Ben Maklit on the salt. (xvii) Ben Pelech on the wood (t. Sheqalim 2.14).

(2) The task of the superintendents as administrators of the service of the ordinary Priests. Other duties performed by the appointers involved responsibility for the priestly courses. There were several tasks related to the administration of the ordinary Priests. The superintendent had to divide the duties among ordinary Priests and supervise their work. There are several indications that the ordinary Priests could not begin their daily tasks before the superintendent came and cast lots. Let us look at some of the instances: 64

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

He who wants to take up [the ashes] from the altar gets up early, and immerses before the superintendent comes … and knocks on their door and they open it for him. He says to them: “Let him who has immersed come and cast lots … (m. Tamid 1.2). (i) Who executes the act of slaughter, (ii) Who throws the blood, (iii) Who removes the ashes of the inner altar, (iv) Who removes the ashes of the candlestick, (v) Who carries the limbs to the ramp … ” (m. Tamid 3.1). [The superintendent] says to them: “Those who are new to [the offering of] the incense, come and cast lots” (m. Tamid 5.2).

Moreover, the superintendent not only organized the service of the ordinary Priests but would guide them as well. This is deduced from the fact that since the ordinary Priests had to serve in the Temple for a strictly limited time throughout the year (two weeks), many of them were not sufficiently familiar with the different tasks. There were many Priests, as in the instance above, who were new to the preparation of the incense and needed to be guided throughout the incense-burning process (m. Tamid 6.3). Furthermore, we are told in Tosefta Taanit (2.2) about a Priest who had to serve in the Temple and was unfamiliar with his priestly course for some reason, and had to join another priestly course. Libermann suggested that many ordinary Priests did not belong to any course and joined one of them (Libermann 1936, Tosefeth Rishonim I, 220). In view of the above, it is most probable that the superintendents guided the ordinary Priests in different ways throughout their weekly service in the Temple. The treasurers ‫גזברים‬ The treasurers were in charge of the financial affairs of the Temple, which involved different organizational functions. This halakhah gives us an indication of some of their administrative tasks: The three treasurers, what did they do? Into their hands were paid: (i) The equivalents [of objects vowed to the Temple but redeemable by a money payment], (ii) and devoted property [vowed to the Temple and not redeemable], (iii) and [other] votive offerings to the Temple, (iv) and the second tithe [they redeem], (v) [in short] all the [financial] transactions of the Temple were carried out by them (t. Sheqalim 2.15).

The treasurers distributed the Temple funds and supervised the redemption of vows and gifts and contributions to the Temple, as well as private capital deposited in the Temple. In addition, they inspected the purchases of produce and materials needed for the Temple cult (m. Menahot 8.2, 7). They organized sales of birds and other produce for sacrifice. This became a Temple monopoly; since some of these items could be ritually defiled on the way to the Temple, 65

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it was customary to purchase them in the Temple (m. Sheqalim 5.3–5; cf. S. Safrai 1956). They were responsible for the maintenance and repair of the gold and silver vessels, and were entrusted with administration of the Temple tax (m. Sheqalim 2.1). It is interesting to note that the supervisors and the treasurers who held high positions in the Temple are mentioned together, not only in relation to their administrative tasks (cf. m. Sheqalim 5.2; t. Yoma 1.6; t. Horayot 2.10), but also with respect to the practice of nepotism; i.e. the sons of the High Priests occupied the positions of supervisors and treasurers, an issue I will address shortly (cf. t. Menahot 13.21). Moreover, the practice of nepotism may explain why the supervisors and treasurers had the right to act on behalf of the High Priest inside and outside the Temple area. The supervisors ‫אמרכלים‬ The supervisors had overall responsibility for the administrative work in the Temple. In the following halakhah, the supervisors were in charge of the keys to the inner court of the Temple. Seven supervisors … seven keys of the court [of Israel and the Priests] were in their hands, and if one of them wished to open [in the morning] he could not do so until all were assembled (t. Sheqalim 2.15).

Büchler linked the seven keys to the seven gates47 of the inner court; he suggested that each ammarkal had in his hand one key to the court. It is important to point out that opening and closing the gates of the Temple was a well-organized ritual that was also practiced in the Babylonian Temples. The ammarkalim were considered to be empowered to administer the Temple (m. Bikkurim 3.3; cf. Büchler 1966:70). The controller ‫קתיליקוס‬ The controller was the head of the general administration of financial affairs in the Temple treasury. It should be expressly noted that the controller is mentioned only in the Jerusalem Talmud. The evidence below is theoretical. Accordingly, the controller is ranked under the High Priest and above the supervisor with respect to the senior administrative tasks in the Temple. The following halakhah is most interesting, since it illustrates in detail how the bureaucratic organization is defined by a hierarchy of offices, where the subordinate office is under the control of the superior office. It gives us an idea 47

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There are different traditions regarding the precise number of gates.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

how the coordination and communication between the different agencies of the administrative center was systemized. It offers a slightly different model of the top administrative hierarchy in the Temple from the ones I have examined so far. Let us take a look: When he signs a document, the treasurer signs it and gives it to the supervisor, the supervisor signs it and gives it to the controller, the controller signs it and gives it to the High Priest, the High Priest signs it and gives it to the King. Now when he undoes the [the document], the King examines his signature and undoes it. The High Priest examines his signature and undoes it. The controller examines his signature and undoes it. The supervisor examines his signature and undoes it. The treasurer examines his signature and undoes it.

The order of precedence within the temple is as follows: (i) the High Priest, (ii) the controller, (iii) the supervisor, (iv) the treasurer (j. Sheqalim 5.2, 49a).48 The captain of the Temple ‫סגן‬ The captain of the Temple was the official ranked next to the High Priest in the hierarchy. The captain was responsible for administrating the work of all the Priests in the Temple. According to the literary sources, the captain of the Temple was the head of the Priests (Acts 5.1). He replaced the High Priest when he was considered disqualified to serve in the Temple. There is an opinion that the captain was appointed as a substitute for the High Priest one week before the Day of Atonement, in case the High Priest could not perform the religious rites (t. Yoma 1.4). He accompanied the High Priest during his ministrations and assisted the High Priest in the performance of rituals (m. Tamid 7.3; b. Yoma 39a). His special position was often publicly demonstrated by the fact that he stood on the right side of the High Priest. He [the High Priest] came to the east side of the courtyard, to the north of the altar, with the captain at his right side and the head of the father’s house at the left (m. Yoma 3.9; cf. m. Yoma 4.1; m. Sotah 7.7; t. Sanhedrin 4.1).

The captain of the Temple was responsible for the organizational functioning of the Temple. Josephus adds that he was responsible for the daily administration of the Temple and its functioning, which included responsibility for the maintenance of the order of ritual sacrifices (Josephus, Jewish War II, 17.2, 409). 48

The king’s precedence is not relevant to the present discussion, since he is not part of the Temple hierarchy. 67

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The system of promotion and the practice of nepotism According to the Jerusalem Talmud, the High Priest would not, in principle, be promoted to the high priesthood prior to his appointment as captain: A High Priest would not be elected as High Priest if he had not first been captain of the Temple (j. Yoma 3.8, 41a).

I should mention that Weber suggested an alternative pattern of behavior in the organizational system, which avoided inequality and nepotism by stating that the system of promotion to the office required a contractual relationship and was achieved according to seniority or achievement or both. The promotion to the high positions in the Temple was subject to nepotism. The captain of the Temple was most probably selected from the noble priestly families. Josephus informs us that the two sons of the High Priests Ananias held the office of captain of the Temple: Ananus ben Ananias held at the office in 52 C.E. (Josephus, Ant. XX, 6.2, 131) and Elazar ben Ananias in 66 C.E. (Josephus, Ant. XX, 9.3, 208; cf. Goodman 1987:146).49 It should be noted that although the appointment of the High Priests was conducted by the family of Herod, the post of the High Priest was reserved for the aristocratic priestly families, who constituted a privileged minority within the class of the Priests. (The cooperation between the family of Herod and the High Priests is discussed in chapter 2, p. 96; cf. Stern 1983; Goodblatt 1983; Rappaport 1996.) The High Priest ‫כהן גדול‬ The High Priest was the head of the Sanhedrin and the representative of Jewish society. In addition, he was the head of the Temple hierarchy and had the highest position within the ranks of the Priests. Formally, he had responsibility for all the services conducted in the Temple. The superiority of High Priests in the organizational system of the Temple service is reflected in several practices: (i) The status of the High Priest was mainly evident during his service on the Day of Atonement. On this day, the service was conducted solely by the High Priest and included, among other things, the sacrifices of the burnt-offering in the morning and in the afternoon. The high point of the service on this day, however, occurred when the High Priest entered the holy of holies in order to burn the incense, since it was the only time that the High Priest was allowed to enter this place (t. Kelim 1.7). 49

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Jeremias enlisted several examples which clearly indicate the practice of nepotism among the families of the priestly aristocracy (Jeremias 1969:162–163).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

(ii) The privileged position of the High Priest was reflected by the fact that he had the right to sacrifice the burnt-offering whenever he so desired, likewise with respect to the task of burning the incense. (iii) The ritual of burning the red heifer was performed by the High Priest (m. Parah 4.1). The above examination clearly demonstrates the well-coordinated activities of the Priests within the Temple area. Although the inquiry focused on the organizational function of the Priests prior to the destruction of the Temple, it is, nevertheless, a strong indication of the formal and non-formal communication between interacting members of the group. This conclusion, however, leads us to surmise that the advanced communication and cooperation among the group members enabled them to a great extent to preserve their group consciousness and distinctiveness even after the destruction of the Temple. Moreover, this supposition is further strengthened by the fact that after the destruction of the Temple the priestly courses continued to live in their priestly settlements and, moreover, after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt, they transferred their priestly courses to Galilee. This topic will be discussed later.

The organization of the Priests outside the Temple realm From the above examination it is evident that the cultic functions of the majority of the Priests were restricted to a limited time in the Temple, meaning that they spent most of their time (approximately eleven months) in their hometown. The inevitable question is what kind of occupations did the Priests engage in order to provide them with a living, aside from cultic functions (e.g. giving the priestly blessing, declaring the leper ritually clean after his healing, etc.). As mentioned earlier, not all Priests owned land and slaves. Moreover, the donations they received from tithes and other taxes were insufficient to support them. Thus, they were obliged to engage in non-cultic occupations, such as carpentry and stone-cutting (Josephus Ant. XV, 11.2, 390). The High Priest Phineas of Havtah was a stone-cutter (t. Yoma 1.6; cf. Stern 1976b:587; cf. Luria 1974); R. Elazar ben Zadok engaged in the sale of oil (t. Besah 3.8). The Priest Zechariah’s father was a butcher (m. Ketubot 2.9); the Priest Elazar ben Azariah engaged in wholesale cattle breeding. Others were engaged in agriculture and many others were scribes (Jeremias 1969:206–207; Stern 1976b:586–587). The above findings lead us to an important conclusion, namely, the identity of the Priests was not solely limited to their cultic function in the Temple. The rules relating to genealogical attribution in Jewish society As mentioned earlier (cf. chapter 2, pp. 24–30), after Ezrah’s reformation, rules of genealogical attribution became a dominant social convention in 69

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Jewish society during the Second Temple period and afterwards. These rules were carefully observed by the Priests who, along with other noble families, constituted the “upper class” of Jewish society. The importance of maintaining the genealogical purity of the Priests, as clearly articulated in the literary sources, was first and foremost due to their cultic function in the Temple affairs and its ritual (cf. Levine 2002:358–361). Philo writes: “For the rights and duties of the priesthood are of a special kind and the office demands an even tenor of blamelessness from birth to death” (Philo, Special Laws I, 102–103, 105; cf. Josephus, Ant. XIII, 13.5, 372–373). Josephus mentions that family purity was carefully maintained by the Priests both in the land of Judaea and in the Diaspora, and that they were in charge of preserving the documents and ascertaining who was qualified (‫ )כשר‬or disqualified (‫ )פסול‬for the priesthood: “Our ancestors … took precautions to ensure that the Priests’ lineage should be kept unadulterated and pure” (Josephus, Against Apion I, 30). Josephus emphasizes that the genealogical lists were of great importance to the Priests even in time of war, including the great Jewish revolt: “the surviving Priests compiled fresh records from the archives” (ibid. I, 36). This idea is further confirmed in several places in the Tannaitic literature, which states that there was a High Court on the Temple Mount and that it was one of the places where most of the distinguished members of the High Court came to investigate the family lineage of the Priests. The hewn stone chamber: there the great Sanhedrin of Israel sat in session. And it judged the priesthood. A Priest in whom was found a cause of invalidation dresses himself in black clothing and cloaks himself in black, departs and goes his way. And in whom no cause of invalidation was found dresses himself in white clothing and cloaks himself in white and goes in and serves with his brethren, the Priests (m. Middot 5.4; cf. t. Hagigah 2.9; t. Sanhedrin 7.1).

According to the above source, a Priest who was examined and whose genealogical attribution was found to be flawless was ordained as a Priest. His priestly ordination was made public in a ritual ceremony which included a ritual bath and afterwards being dressed in a white robe. In contrast, a Priest whose genealogical heredity was found to be flawed would lose the rights to the Priestly office and his illegitimacy for the priesthood would be signaled by dressing him in black. Moreover, if a Priest wanted to marry a girl from a priestly background, he had to examine her family attribution to ensure that it was flawless. The genealogy list was found in “the public registers,” like the one located in the Temple (Josephus, Vita 3–6). Josephus writes: “He must investigate her pedigree, obtaining the genealogy from the archives and producing a number of witnesses” (Josephus, Against Apion I, 30). Philo states that they had to examine the purity of 70

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

her blood through her “parents and grandparents and ancestors” (Philo, Special Laws I, 101). According to the Mishna, it was necessary to examine the genealogy of a girl from a priestly background through the mothers of both paternal and maternal ancestry for four generations, and in the case of a daughter of a Levite or Israelite it was five generations (m. Qiddushin 4.4–5).50 Furthermore, strict rules of marriage were applied to the group of the Priests. I will mention some of them. All Priests were prohibited to have a union with a divorced woman, whereas only the High Priest was forbidden to marry a widow (Lev. 21.7, 14). Accordingly, if a Priest entered into a union with a divorcee, his marriage would be considered illegitimate and his priestly family heredity would be considered defiled (‫)פסול כהונה‬. The social implications were severe. First, he could not officiate as a Priest: “And whoever violates any of the above rules is forbidden to minister at the altars or to take any other part in divine worship” (cf. Josephus, Against Apion I, 36–37). Second, his descendants would lose the right to the priesthood and would be considered impaired Priests (‫)חלל‬. An impaired Priest was prohibited from marrying a woman from a priestly family, and a daughter of an impaired male Priest or the daughter of the son of an impaired Priest was disqualified from marrying into the priesthood for all time (cf. m. Qiddushin 4.1; t. Qiddushin 5.3; m. Qiddushin 4.6). Likewise, a captive woman was considered defiled for the priesthood (cf. Josephus, Against Apion I, 34; t. Qiddushin 5.3). Josephus recounts the story of the Hasmonean dynasty, whose high priesthood was challenged as illegitimate. Elazar, a representative of the Pharisees, demanded that the Hasmonean king and High Priest John Horcanos (134–104 B.C.E.) relinquish the high priesthood because of a rumor that his grandmother, the wife of the High Priest Simeon (141–134 B.C.E.) had been taken captive in war under Antiochus Epiphanes IV (cf. Josephus Ant. XIII, 10.5, 291; ibid. XIII, 13.5, 372; Jeremias 1969:154; Blidstein 1976/7). The accusation was damning, since the descendant of the High Priest Simeon was considered to be an impaired Priest. We find a similar attitude towards women captives in the Tannaitic literature. According to the Jewish marriage contract, the husband had to redeem his wife from prison; however, the legal status of a woman who married a Priest was different from that of a woman who married a Levite or Israelite, as we shall see in the following case study: [if] he did not write [obligate himself] to her: “If you are taken captive, I will redeem you and bring you back to my side as my wife” or in the case of a Priestly girl: “I will bring you back to your town.” 50

From the mother’s side they investigated four generations, starting with the mother. They also investigated the genealogy of the mothers on the father’s side for four generations, starting with the mother of the father. 71

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He is nonetheless liable [to do so], for this is [in all events] an unstated condition imposed by the court (m. Ketubot 4.8).

The Halakhah above stipulates that in the case of a woman married to a Levite or Israelite and taken captive, her husband’s obligation is to redeem her and she has the right to return to her husband, whereas in the case of a woman married to a Priest and taken captive, her husband was obliged to redeem her and return her to her place, probably to her father’s house; he, however, could not continue to live with her, as we see in the following case study (cf. Blidstein 1976/7). A woman who was taken prisoner by gentiles [if it was] for an offence concerning property, she is permitted [to return] to her husband. [if it was for] a capital offence, she is prohibited to her husband. A town which was overcome by siege — all the Priests’ wives found therein are invalid [to return to their husband]. But if they have witnesses, even a man slave or a girl slave, lo, they are believed. But a person cannot testify on his own behalf. Said R. Zechariah son of the butcher: by this sanctuary! Her hand did not move from mine from the time that the gentiles entered Jerusalem until they left it. They told him a person cannot testify about himself. He was told: A person cannot testify on his own behalf (m. Ketubot 2.9).

The first part of the halakhah discusses the legal status of women taken prisoner by the gentiles. The general stipulation is that a woman taken prisoner is forbidden to her husband who is a Priest, since she is suspected of having been raped by the gentiles during the siege. It should be pointed out that a woman married to a Levite or Israelite and who was raped could return to her husband. (For Tannaitic evidence see Blidstein 1976/7:8–9, n. 15–22.) However, if she was taken prisoner for an offence concerning property, meaning that she was taken as a guarantee, she was not suspected of having been raped, since the general assumption would be that if woman was raped by the gentile they would not get the money from her family, whereas if she was taken prisoner for a capital offence, there was a high probability that she would be raped. The second piece of evidence below confirms the strict rules of marriage practiced by the group of the Priests, as exemplified by the case of a certain Priest by the name of R. Zechariah son of butcher (cf. m. Eduyyot 8.2) who was obliged to divorce his wife according to the priestly law, since she had been taken prisoner by the gentiles during the First Jewish Revolt and was suspected of contaminating the genealogical line of her husband. Even though he testified on his own behalf, citing that his wife remained with him at all times during the siege, the priestly judges did not accept his plea since he did not have a witness. In light of the above, the fact that the office of the priesthood (especially the high priesthood) was conditional on observing the strict rules of family 72

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

hereditary, I suggest that it was preferable to maintain the practice of endogamy, not only among the High Priests but among the common Priests, as we shall see shortly. In the following, I will examine to what extent endogamy was practiced among the group of the Priests and its relation to nepotism. The relation between endogamy and nepotism Much ethnographic fieldwork has repeatedly demonstrated that in many cultures, the practice of endogamy is used as a mechanism to perpetuate group distinctiveness and to establish solidarity among the members of the group; it is the vehicle by which alliances and friendship among men are established in order to maintain power among groups and individuals (cf. Gluckman 1965; A. Cohen 1974). Moreover, endogamy often provides a practical solution to a privileged group that wishes to prevent the penetration of out-group members whose status is inferior to that of the superior group. As will shortly be demonstrated, the group of the Priests (especially the High Priests) had an interest in preserving these rules in order to maintain power and economic privileges; strict observance of the regulations of marriage and the practice of endogamy enabled the Priests to keep their family attribution blameless and consequently allowed them “free entrance” to the cultic sphere. In addition, it was a means of achieving top positions in the socio-economic arena of Jewish society. As will be demonstrated later, this was to some extent a strategy of elite families in general. In other words, the strict rules of marriage and the practice of endogamy were “tools” by which the group of the Priests could establish its claim to superiority over other groups by refusing to give their women to men from another class or even to members of their own group whose socio-economic background was inferior to their own. This idea coincides with the theory of the sociologist Merton, who proposed that a closed group restricts its membership, even to the point of excluding members of the group who are formally eligible for membership, in order to retain group distinctiveness (Merton 1968:346). Let us return to an examination of our sources: Both Josephus and Philo state that the families of the High Priests sought to marry others within the priestly family or others with the same social status. In fact, when Josephus mentions that a Priest must marry a woman of “his own class” he uses the term genos (Josephus, Against Apion I, 30; cf. Kasher 1996:63). Scholarly investigation has shown that the term genos as used by Josephus has a number of connotations: origin, descent, birth, native, class, and family tree, depending on context. Following Kasher’s suggestion, it seems that the term here means class. (For scholarly examination and bibliography see Kasher 1996:41, 63–65.) The question is whether this norm was practiced among the Priests and to what extent? 73

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Endogamy among the members of the high priesthood Our sources reveal that there were several examples of endogamy being practiced among the members of the high priesthood: (i) The High Priest Mattaiah ben Theophilus 5 B.C.E. was the brother-inlaw of the High Priest Joazar 4 B.C.E. His wife and Joazar were the children of the High Priest Simeon 22–5 B.C.E. (Josephus, Ant. XVII, 6.4, 164). (ii) The High Priest Caiaphas 18–37 C.E. married the daughter of the High Priest Annas 6–15 C.E. (John 18.13). (iii) The High Priest Joshua ben Gamla was married to Martha who belonged to the noble priestly family Boethus (m. Yebamot 6.4; cf. Büchler 1966:68; Jeremias 1969:154). Endogamy among the lay Priests We must also ask whether endogamy was practiced solely by the members of the high priesthood. According to Josephus and Philo, it seems that the ordinary Priests also preferred to ally themselves with families of priestly descent and to marry off their daughters within the extended family: “A member of the priestly order must, to beget a family, marry a woman of his own race” (Josephus, Against Apion I, 31).51 Philo elaborates on this idea while making a distinction between the social categories of Priests and High Priests: “We know that the Priests should take a wife born in wedlock of pure parents and from grandparents and ancestors of pure blood; and that he [the High Priest] should take a virgin who is a priestess of priestly race, so that the husband and the wife should be of the same house in the sense of the same blood” (Philo, Special Laws I, 110). Early Amoraitic sources indicate the continuity of the practice of endogamy. The following narrative is by R. Johanan, who cites that in the city of Gophnah, considered one of the largest priestly cities, endogamy was practiced among the group of the Priests: R. Johanan said: “Eighty pairs of brothers, who were Priests, married eighty pairs of sisters, who were daughters of Priests, on a single night in the town of Gophnah” (j. Taanit 4.5, 69a).

The story narrates that on a single night, a wedding ceremony was arranged between eighty pairs of brothers who were Priests and eighty pairs of sisters, who were daughters of Priests. 51

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Ironically, Josephus, who emphasizes the importance of Priests marrying the daughters of other Priests and the prohibition on marrying a woman who had been a captive (Josephus, Against Apion I, 35–37) does not apply this rule to his own marriage: “I married one of the women taken captive at Caesarea, a virgin and native of that place” (Josephus, Vita 75).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

Moreover, Büchler has pointed out that although there is an element of exaggeration (the number eighty is clearly typological)52 which reduces the credibility of the story, there is, nevertheless, a hidden core of authenticity which reflects a historical reality of the time, namely that the Priests preferred to marry women of priestly background (cf. Büchler 1966:120; Luria 1973; for other evidence, see Yankelevitch 1983:157). The above-mentioned marriage restrictions, i.e. the prohibition against marrying a divorcee and the restriction on marrying non-priestly girls, indicate a continuing attitude among the Priests of social separatism and superiority in Jewish society. The following will serve as a further example: Said R. Tarfon … “I have seen Simeon my uncle … standing [in the Temple] and blowing the trumpet” (Sifre Numbers 75; j. Yoma 1.1, 38d).

R. Tarfon, who was a Priest, saw his uncle, the brother of his mother, blowing the trumpet in the Temple. I may deduce that his uncle was a Priest, since sounding the trumpet or the shofar (horn) was the exclusive task of the Priests (cf. chapter 2, pp. 53–58). This means that the mother of R. Tarfon was a daughter of a Priest who was married to the father of R. Tarfon who was also a Priest (cf. Büchler 1966:67). The dialectical tension between endogamy and intermarriage Despite the fact that the group of the Priests maintained the practice of endogamy (as shown above), the Mishna indicates that there were aristocratic families among the Levites and Israelites who were considered well-connected (‫ )מיוחסים‬and qualified to marry into the priesthood. For example, we are told that Rabban Gamaliel the Elder married his daughter to Simeon ben Natanel the Priest (t. Abodah Zarah 3.10). The Tosefta, for example, defines these Israelites as a social stratum which is qualified as a “[genealogical] purification-pool for Priests” (t. Qiddushin 5.3) ‫נמצאו ישראל מקוה לכהנים‬. From this we can again see that intermarriage between Priests and non Priests did actually occur. The following statement, made in the name of R. Yosi, specifies that there were several non-priestly families whose family attribution was blameless, and therefore they could and did marry their daughters into the priesthood (‫)משיאין לכהונה‬. R. Yosi says: “the families of Beit Hapegarim and of Beit Sipperayah were from Emmaus. And they married into the priesthood” (m. Arachin 2.4). 52

That is, they are not true numbers, denoting true facts, but are used in a symbolical or archetypical manner (cf. Bar-Ilan 2003). 75

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As will be demonstrated shortly in the model below, if an Israelite girl whose family attribution was flawless married a Priest, she would thereby be elevated to the top of the social hierarchy. These families, as indicated in the following case study, wished to maintain their family records of unblemished genealogy and thus justify their legitimacy to marry into the priesthood. This family’s concern demonstrates that the possibility of intermarriage was a reality to be preserved rather than a theoretical halakhah. R. Yossi the Priest and R. Zechariah son of the butcher testified concerning a girl who was given as a pledge in Ashkelon, and her family disqualified her [for priestly marriage], even though witnesses gave testimony that she had not been alone [with a man] or been made unclean [by a man]. The Sages said to them if you believe that she was a pledge, you might as well believe she was not alone with a man or made unclean. And if you don’t believe that she was not alone with a man or made unclean, you might as well not believe that she was given as a pledge (m. Eduyyot 8.2; cf. Büchler 1966:18, n. 19; Luria 1973).

In the above story, we are told that R. Zechariah son of the butcher and R. Yosi the Priest testified concerning a girl who had been imprisoned by the gentiles for an offence concerning material goods and was used as an “economic guarantee” until her family handed over the money they were obliged to give (cf. m. Ketubot 2.9). The girl had witnesses that she had not been alone with a man nor been made unclean by a man; nevertheless, the members of her family suspected that she had contaminated her family attribution and forbade her to marry a Priest. As mentioned earlier, if a woman was imprisoned and even if she was raped, she could still marry a Levite or an Israelite, but she was debarred from marrying a Priest.53 From the above examination, I suggest that despite the fact that endogamy was practiced by the group of the Priests, there is evidence in the halakhah of intermarriage between Priests and distinguished non-priestly families. The following source may indicate the Priests’ attempt to protect their aristocratic status: The Priests’ court would collect four hundred talents for a virgin. The Sages did not object (m. Ketubot 1.5; t. Ketubot 1.2).

According to the Mishna, there was a court composed of Priests which established jurisdiction in civil matters.54 The court of the Priests would collect 53

54

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The above analysis is based on Albeck 1958 III, Ketubot 93–96, and Blidstein (1976/7), who interpret the story as referring to a non-priestly family. Other scholars, however, interpret the story as referring to a priestly family (cf. Jeremias 1969) or a non-priestly aristocratic family. The term “Beit Din Shel Kohanim” is rarely used in rabbinic sources and has caused confusion regarding its meaning (for a review of the literature see Tropper 1972/3:208, n. 19–23).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

400 talents for the bride dowry (‫ )כתובה‬in a priestly marriage instead of the 200 talents demanded by Levites or Israelites. I suggest that the Priests considered themselves and their daughters superior to the daughters of Israel and therefore doubled the bride price. By limiting marriage relations with other social groups, the Priests signified a social distinction and the desire to be socially separated from the rest of Jewish society. Likewise, Tropper (1972/3) suggests that the custom of paying an extra sum for marrying a woman of noble birth was used as a social mechanism to discourage people from marrying out of their tribes and their families: “Such a decree, designated to emphasize their nobility and protect their aristocratic status, would be enacted only by the Priests themselves” (Tropper 1972/3:211). Class-like and caste-like55 dimensions in ancient Israel society I can now attempt to answer one of the questions posed at the beginning of this monograph (cf. chapter 1, p. 15): Was the social system a class-like system based on merit or was it rather a more closed system based on family attribution? From the above analysis, I can infer that the social system that existed according to this Mishna is somewhere between a closed and an open system. On the one hand, it is not as closed as the caste system in India, since it allows for a greater degree of mobility and imposes fewer restrictions on social interaction between the groups. The traditional caste system, according to the acknowledged definition, divides society into endogamic groups characterized by three main features: (a) work division, (b) marriage separation, and (c) division of castes in Hindu hierarchical order based on ritual purity. Accordingly, each caste has a certain degree of purity, depending on its position in the ritual hierarchy. Thus a member of a superior caste can be polluted by having commensal contact with members of an inferior caste. The social implications are that people belonging to the different castes have different status, and there are formal rules to determine how members of different castes should relate to each other. The social anthropologist Mayer, who did his fieldwork in central India, summarizes rules of commensality as follows: “A superior caste will not eat from the cooking vessels nor the hands of a caste which it regards as inferior, nor will its members sit next to the inferior people in the same unbroken line (pangat) when eating. Drinking and smoking

55

Tropper suggests the following: “The Bet Din Shel Kohanim, rather than being the single individual body heretofore envisioned by scholars, seems to have been a bureaucratic complex of priestly offices, agencies, and courts, each performing its unique functions in its personal hall of session, functionally and geographically independent of its fellow agencies” (Tropper 1972/3:209). There has been debate among anthropologists as to whether the concept “caste” can be used outside India (Eriksen 1998). 77

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follow similar rules of exclusion. These are only the most general distinctions; within each there are gradations according to the type of food, the container in which it is served, etc.” (Mayer 2002:33; cf. Eriksen 1998:179). As should be evident from the above analysis, Jewish society was not a caste system. It shared, however, some caste-like traits especially with regard to the matter of ritual purity and impurity, and to some extent the practice of endogamy. Nevertheless, the rules and practices related to genealogy are quite different from the system practiced in India. On the other hand, it is not as open as in a modern Western class-based society, where we can at least in theory find a high degree of mobility based on individual achievement. By contrast, the main criterion in ancient Jewish society is genealogical; it was only the woman who could climb the social ladder. Group nepotism related to the social hierarchy and to occupation The correlation between elite families and prestigious occupations was not absent in Jewish society, as attested by the following halakhah. Abba Saul and Abba Yossi ben Johanan, the man of Jerusalem say … Woe is me, because of the house of Ishmael ben Phiabi. For they are High Priests, and their sons treasurers, and their sons-in-law, supervisors, and their servants come and beat us with staffs (t. Menahot 13.21).

This piece of evidence indicates that the Priests practiced endogamy. The fact that the Priests married off their daughters to other Priests is shown by the fact that their sons-in-law are supervisors, and the office of “supervisor” was a priestly profession (Luria 1973). In other words, their patterns of endogamy served as a way of keeping important and scarce resources and social positions within a group of close families, a phenomenon some theoreticians label nepotism. Nepotism refers to a larger pattern of kin solidarity. In a broad sense, it denotes the social behavior of discriminating in favor of members of one’s own group (Freshtman 2002). Accordingly, we would expect that people would grant their relatives privileges, such as the right to inherit their parents’ status, or would allow members of their own group to obtain certain positions/functions which are restricted to a few. Empirical data gathered by social anthropologists in ethnographic settings (Van Den Berghe 1979; 1981; Baldi 1994; Jones 2000) and by social psychologists in experimental settings (Tajfel 1974; 1978; 1979; Tajfel and Turner 1979; Turner 1975; Taylor and Moghaddam 1994), have repeatedly demonstrated that when people organize themselves into groups, they tend to favor the in-group members when sharing out resources and to encourage the in-group members to practice mutual altruism and to be generous towards one another. 78

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

Moreover, the social anthropologist Van Den Berghe (1979; 1981) has indicated that nepotism relies on two social mechanisms which are interchangeably correlated: reciprocity and coercion (Van Den Berghe 1979; 1981; cf. Jones 2000). R e c i p r o c i t y — Van Den Berghe assumes that group nepotism (which is not limited to kin selection) depends on cooperation. His basic axiom about human sociality is that human interaction is based on either competition or cooperation, in order to maximize individual fitness. Thus, when group members agree upon norms, they will be able to increase the power of their own group. Reciprocity also involves mutual altruism. In-group members will practice generosity to their fellows. C o l l e c t i v e c o e r c i o n — is highly related to the centralization of power. He maintains that group coercion is formed by coalitions, in order to perpetuate dominance over other groups or classes. Lupton and Wilson (1959) have demonstrated how kinship and affinal relationships other than lifestyle and friendship help to strengthen group nepotism through the practice of endogamy. They trace the genealogy of twenty influential families and demonstrate how members of these families are interconnected through marriage. They also reveal how leading positions are held by these families (Lupton and Wilson in A. Cohen 1974:99). Sharing out resources, however, was not only directed towards the ingroup members of the Priests, but was extended to the non-priestly aristocratic families. The evidence below is an outstanding example of this approach, since it explicitly indicates that the Israelites of aristocratic families who could marry their daughters into the priesthood achieved a high political and social status in Jewish society. 1. They do not carry a genealogical inquiry upward from [proof that one’s priestly ancestor has served] at the altar, nor from [proof that one’s Levitical ancestor has served] on the platform, and from [proof that one’s learned ancestor has served] in the Sanhedrin. And all those whose fathers are known to have held office as public officials or as charity collectors — they marry them into the priesthood, and it is not necessary to conduct an inquiry (m. Qiddushin 4.5). 2. All are valid to engage in the judgment of property cases, but all are not valid to engage in the judgment of capital cases, except for Priests, Levites and Israelites who are suitable to marry into the priesthood (m. Sanhedrin 4.2).

The above evidence illustrates that the Israelites of aristocratic families held high positions, such as various administrative offices in the community or membership in the High Court (cf. m. Sanhedrin 4.2). 79

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The geographic settlements of the Priests according to the division of the priestly courses One significant piece of evidence supporting the assumption that the Priests continued to exist as a social group after the destruction of the Temple is the fact that the Priests continued to live in their own geographic settlements, according to the division of the priestly courses. There are several anticipated questions that must be asked: What happened to the priestly courses after the destruction of the Temple? To what extent did the priestly families manage to secure their privately owned land in Judaea? Did they lose the ability to reorganize the group as a result of the destruction of the Temple? Were they able to maintain the purity of their priestly courses? I will first examine the demographic situation of the priestly courses before the destruction of the Temple. The priestly courses during the Second Temple period Scholars suggest that during the Second Temple period, 20 percent of Priests lived permanently in Jerusalem whereas the rest of them lived in their own priestly settlements, mainly in the area of Judaea, since it was close to the Temple. Moreover, their examination indicates that there were certain geographical areas where there were high concentrations of priestly families, such as Jericho,56 Gophnah, and Sepphoris (cf. Büchler 1966:119; Luria 1973).57 What was the character of these priestly cities? Were their inhabitants exclusively priestly families or was there a mixture of priestly and non-priestly families. The remarkable study by Luria demonstrates the following: The term “priestly cities” ‫( ערי כהנים‬II Chron. 31.15; cf. Jos. 21.10–19) does not necessarily indicate that the city was comprised entirely of Priests, but rather that the majority of the inhabitants who resided permanently in these settlements were Priests who lived together with non-priestly families.58 His examination also reveals that in certain settlements, like Gophnah, there was a high concentration of priestly families, and the practice of endogamy was practiced extensively among members of the Priests in order to preserve their priestly genealogy (Luria 1973; cf. Büchler 1966:119–121). In view of the above, 56

57

58

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Luria has demonstrated that the Amoraitic sources indicate that in Jericho there were twelve settlements of priestly courses out of twenty four (j. Taanit 4.4, 67d; ibid. Pesahim 4.3, 30c; b. Taanit 27a). Luria is aware of the fact that the number of the priestly courses is exaggerated, but it indicates, nevertheless, that there was a high concentration of priestly families in Jericho. Luria’s examination, however, reveals that there were more than twenty-four geographical settlements of Priests. Luria suggests that during the Second Temple period there were Priests who lived permanently in their priestly cities and worked as farmers, whereas others preferred to live in Jerusalem and let others take care of their lands.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

I suggest that the character of the priestly cities was not homogeneous and for reasons unknown, in certain priestly settlements the practice of endogamy was stricter than in others. The priestly courses after the destruction of the Temple There is a consensus among scholars that there was a high rate of immigration of priestly families to the Galilee after the destruction of the Temple (Klein 1967: 62–68, 177–193; 1977:162–165; Urbach 1973; Kahane 1978; Z. Safrai 1985:196–205; Trifon 1990; Oppenheimer in Trifon: 77, n. 3 and others). Nevertheless, scholars disagree as to whether the great immigration of priestly courses began after the Great Revolt (cf. Klein 1967:62–68), after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (cf. Kahane 1978; Z. Safrai 1985:196–205; Büchler 1912), or during the third century (Trifon 1990). In the following, I will argue that the great immigration of the priestly courses occurred after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt. It should be expressly noted that my main concern is to point out that the immigration of the priestly courses to the Galilee is an important indication that the Priests continued to exist as a social group after the destruction of the Temple. (For a detailed discussion regarding the debate between Trifon and Z. Safrai, see Trifon 1990; Z. Safrai 1993.) Although it is hard to pinpoint exactly when the great immigration of priestly families began, I will mention additional considerations which may strengthen the notion that the mass immigration started after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt and not before. Several archaeological excavations conducted in the last few decades reveal a different picture of the demographic state of affairs in Jerusalem and its environs between 70 C.E. and 135 C.E. from the one presented until now by scholarly investigation, namely that many rural settlements continued to exist after the destruction of the Temple (Zissu 2001). In view of the above, it would be natural to assume that priestly settlements were included in their number. The archaeologist Kloner (1984) states that archaeological finds, especially the usage of burial tombs, reveal that Jewish settlements in Jerusalem and its environs continued to exist between the two Jewish Wars, and that the Jews never left the place until after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (cf. Zissu 2001). Kloner writes that 20 tomb caves were found dating from the Second Temple period. Various Jewish items dating to post — 70 C.E., such as coins, glass bottles, and oil lamps.59 Oil lamps similarly dated were also found in tombs 59

His theory is based on two assumptions: These decorated oil-lamps were not found in the archaeological excavations in different locations and in tombs where Herodian oil-lamps were found. Moreover, this type of oil-lamp was not found in Masada, which was captured by the Romans in 74 C.E. Accordingly, one would expect to find oil-lamps with the same specific features as those found in the caves of the Judean desert presumably used by Jews hiding from the Romans during the Bar-Kokhba Revolt. 81

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and columbaria at Marish, in the Bet-Guvrin region, in Avdat, Arrub, and south of Jerusalem. In another article relating to the character of the Jewish settlements, Kloner concludes: “It is beyond doubt that the war of the destruction of the Temple (66– 70 C.E.) did not alter the demographic character of the settlements of the costal plain and the Hebron Mountain in the east. However, the significant damage to the Jewish settlements in the south occurred due to Bar-Kokhba Revolt in the years 132–135 C.E.” (Kloner 1984:171).60 Kloner’s assumption is reconfirmed by several archaeological excavations which reach a similar conclusion. In his extensive examination of the locale of Jewish settlements in the Judaean Hills from the late Second Temple period to the Bar-Kokhba revolt, 130 Jewish settlements were found in Judaea and Benjamin (Zissu 2001; cf. Amit 1997). All these discoveries strongly suggest that the great immigration to the Galilee occurred after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt. The great immigration of the priestly courses to Galilee The assumption that the priestly courses moved from Judaea to the Galilee is based on the pioneering work of Klein, who reconstructed the full list of priestly courses. His assumption, however, was based on the fact that the Amoraitic literature mentions indirectly that there were places where there was a high concentration of Priests, and in some cases it clearly specifies “a city comprised entirely of Priests” as demonstrated below (cf. Klein 1977:179). R. Aha, R. Tanhuma ben R. Hiyya in the name of R. Simlai, “In a city comprised entirely of Priests, they all raise their hands [to recite the Priestly Blessing].” For whom do they recite the blessing? [They recite] for their brethren in the north, and for their brethren in the south, for their brethren in the east, and for their brethren in the west (j. Berakhot 5.4, 9d; j. Gittin 5.9, 47b; cf. b. Sotah 38b).

Klein reconstructed the full list by correlating the fragmentary list found in the Jerusalem Talmud of the names of the priestly courses and their priestly settlements in Galilee (Taanit 4.2, 68a) with the list which appears in the liturgical poems, also called piyutic compositions, especially in the two liturgical poems of R. Pinchas the Priest, Haduta and R. Elazar birbi-qalir who lived in Palestine Judea.61 This list mentions the names of the twenty-four courses, the name of the head of the father’s house, and the locations of the settlements in the Galilee (Klein 1967:177–192; for further examination of the liturgical poems in relation to the priestly courses see Fleischer 1967; 1968 and others). 60 61

82

The translation from Hebrew is by the present author. Of the liturgical poets who wrote about the priestly courses, the three poets mentioned above are the only ones who specified the names of the priestly settlements.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

Klein assumed that these liturgical poems were probably edited in the sixth century and were taken from the original, ancient list dating to the last decades after the destruction of the Temple in approximately 135 C.E. The list was most likely assembled by Priests in order to perpetuate their priestly lineage. The original list, however, was not fully preserved in the Talmudic literature, with only a fragmentary segment remaining, as we have seen (Klein 1977:162; cf. Urbach 1973:308). It should be pointed out that scholars agree that the list of the priestly courses reflects a historical reality. One of the arguments offered in support of the credibility of the list is that if it was indeed an imaginary literary pattern created in order to immortalize the priestly courses, why then are the settlements attributed to priestly courses only Galilean settlements, as opposed to the list of the priestly cities in the Bible (cf. Lev. 25.32–34; Num. 35.1–8)? The specification of the Galilean settlements of the priestly courses gives the list historical integrity (cf. Trifon 1985:108). Klein’s theory is further supported by archaeological finds discovered after his reconstruction of the priestly courses. The ancient liturgical poems conform closely to several fragmentary inscriptions containing the list of the priestly courses discovered in Caesarea, Ashkelon, Kisuffim, Rehov (for archaeological finds and bibliography see J. Naveh 1978:79–85, 87–92, 142–143), Nazareth (Eshel 1991), and in Yemen. The Yemenite inscription in the synagogue in Bait al-Hadir has the longest list, consisting of 11 priestly courses and their settlements in the Galilee (Urbach 1973). Moreover, scholarly investigation has located almost all the geographical settlements of the priestly courses within the boundaries of the Galilee: from Bet-Lehem Ha-gelilit in the west to Lake Kinneret in the east, and from Nazareth and Bet-Year in the south to Meron and Javnit in the north. (See Kahane 1978:16–18 for bibliography.) Furthermore, the archeological examination reveals that the character of the priestly courses is not homogeneous, as in the period of the Second Temple. Some of the priestly families chose to reside in separate settlements, while other priestly courses, who were great in number, preferred to settle close to the suburb. Most of these Priests were probably engaged in agriculture and cattle breeding, especially the priestly families who resided in fertile areas like the valley of Beit-Netufa, whereas others were engaged in different crafts such as pottery, like the priestly families who lived in Sochin and Chozpit (Kahane 1978; cf. t. Yoma 1.6). Moreover, although the Tannaitic literature does not provide us with information regarding the lifestyle of Priests in their priestly settlements, we may assume that to a certain extent they continued to practice their particular culture, which distinguished them as a social group. Thus, they probably had 83

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their own ritual ceremonies, local schools, and local courts (for the examination of local priestly courts see Tropper 1972/3). They had informal and exclusive gatherings in various social spheres, which were probably similar to those of the group of the Sages; the members of the group visited one another, had common meals, participated in various social and private gatherings, such as weddings and funerals. (For a detailed examination of the theory of the particular culture of an elite group and its application, see chapter 3, pp. 212–218.) The above examination corresponds to the anthropological statement I made at the beginning of the chapter; when a group is no longer able to achieve its goal, it will eventually cease to exist as a social group (Gluckman 1965; cf. Lamb 1952). Accordingly, the examination reveals that the group of the Priests was able to respond to the new situation and to produce several practical solutions in time of crisis, including reorganization of the group, which is reflected in the demographic transition of the priestly courses from Judea to the Galilee. The priestly families also decided to reside in priestly settlements close to each other. These actions enabled the Priests to continue to practice to a great extent their ideology and lifestyle, such as the practice of endogamy, eating in ritual purity, etc. In other words, I suggest that by maintaining these practices, the Priests were able to declare to themselves and others that they were fit to serve in the Temple when it was eventually rebuilt, as well as to demand the priestly gifts and continue their work outside the Temple.

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SOCIOLOGY OF IGNORANCE AND PROTECTED KNOWLEDGE

The members of the family of Garmu did not want to teach others how to make the Show Bread. The members of the family of Abitnas did not want teach others how to make the incense. Hugras ben Levi knew the art of singing but did not want to teach it to anyone else. Ben Qamsar [knew the art of writing] and did not want to teach others how to write (m. Yoma 3. 11; cf. t. Yoma 2.8).

Introduction Earlier, I used Silverstein’s accommodating theory with respect to the usage of the purpositive privacy function of speech to demonstrate how a particular discourse may, for example, contain professional terminology with specific meaning and context, understood only by those who actively participate in the given role, as already mentioned, thus creating a social demarcation between “insiders” and “outsiders.” In applying it to the group of the Priests, I suggested that they may have developed a technique of discourse that was opaque to outsiders; thus, their specialized knowledge was used as a mechanism of power, which further enabled them to legitimize their group’s superiority in the social structure of Jewish society. The sociology of ignorance In the following, I will present additional theories which highlight the different mechanisms of power by which protected knowledge is perpetuated by the privileged group, and thereafter I will examine our material in light of these theories. Funkenstein and Steinsaltz (1988) propose a new conceptual framework, namely the sociology of ignorance. They explore the ways by which ignorance is intentionally and overtly perpetuated in different societies. By examining various societies throughout history, they disclose several mechanisms of power within the social structure of a given society, which help prevent protected knowledge from becoming everyday knowledge. 85

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They, nevertheless, underscore that the “sociology of ignorance” is not the mirror image of the “sociology of knowledge,” but that these two concepts are intimately interrelated in certain dimensions. The sociology of knowledge is generally understood by sociologists as organized knowledge unequally distributed in a given society. The functions of organized knowledge are to articulate the power of the dominant group and to express its interests, thus contributing to this inequality (cf. Berger and Luckmann 1966). The sociology of ignorance is the type of ignorance created by society and intentionally preserved. On the one hand, ignorance, like knowledge, derives from the social structure, and is often based on unconscious social conventions maintained by the cultural hegemony of those who have the means of communication. (The issue of cultural hegemony is discussed in detail in chapter 2, pp. 91–99.) On the other hand, they identify another kind of ignorance used consciously and intentionally by the dominant group. The latter is created by wellestablished mechanisms of power which aim to perpetuate the lack of knowledge openly and intentionally, and are perceived by the general public as “common sense.” The lack of knowledge, they suggest, is perpetuated by various means, such as the denial of information in certain domains, the usage of defined censorship which intends to conceal certain knowledge from the general public, and the practice of social conventions which block the access of the common people to certain knowledge. Moreover, they distinguish between a lack of knowledge which is relevant to society, and a lack of knowledge which is irrelevant to it, with a focus on the former. In other words, relevant knowledge is the kind of information which is accessible to society but is denied artificially. Accordingly, medical or military information is considered formal knowledge that may be essential to the entire society, yet this knowledge is distinguished from common knowledge by various mechanisms and strategies of power. The inevitable consequence is that the kind of information which is distinguished from the everyday knowledge of the people becomes “secret knowledge” or “protected knowledge.” Their examination demonstrates the ways by which various discourses, such as political, military, and professional discourses, are protected by various mechanisms of power. The examination by Foucault reached a similar conclusion. In his book “Discipline and Punish” he stated that in most European countries until the 19th century, the penal system remained a secret. Knowledge and power were the ultimate privilege of the supreme ruler and the judges. The rules were 86

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known only to the specialist, and consequently this added force to the principle of secrecy62 (Foucault 1977:35–56). Following the same line of thought Eliot Freidson (1986), whose major impact on the field of medical sociology illuminates the relation between power and knowledge, by basing them on the institution of professionalism in the United States. His detailed examination illustrates how professional groups representing disciplines or bodies of knowledge exercise an organized power by controlling different domains of social policy and institutions of everyday life that affect particular areas of social life. Freidson distinguishes between the body of knowledge within a particular culture which is accessible to all, and specialized knowledge which is shared by the members of particular groups who perform activities on a regular basis. Formal knowledge, by definition, he writes, is “elite knowledge.” Specialized knowledge is used selectively and is lived only through its agents. One of the strategies which enable formal knowledge to be protected throughout the ages is the use of professional language known only to those who participate in the profession. Freidson realizes that protected knowledge was practiced throughout the ages under different guises. He suggests that formal knowledge is originally rooted in arcane traditions and in texts: “In ancient language known only to a few, higher knowledge is now still expressed in terms unfamiliar to and impenetrable by the many, and discussed by techniques of discourse that are opaque to outsiders” (Freidson 1986:3).

The praxis of protected knowledge by the group of the Priests At the beginning of the chapter, I commented that the group of the Priests did not leave behind a written text like the group of the Sages, who eventually transferred their oral law into written law, namely the Tannaitic literature. Although the sources are unforthcoming on the matter, there are several indications that the Priests sought to protect their knowledge. Funkenstein and 62

Foucault demonstrated in detail how the entire course of a criminal of action proceeded: “It was impossible for the accused to have access to the documents of the case, impossible to know the identity of his accusers, impossible to know the nature of the evidence before objection to witness, impossible to make use, until the last moments of the trial, of the document in proof, impossible to have a lawyer … The magistrate constituted, in solitary omnipotence, a truth by which he investigated the accused; and the judges received this truth ready made, in the form of documents and written statements … The secret and the written form of the procedure reflects the principle that in criminal matters the establishment of truth was the absolute right and exclusive power of the sovereign and his judges” (Foucault 1977:35). 87

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Steinsaltz recognize two types of knowledge which prevailed in Jewish society of that time: open knowledge and tacit knowledge. They further suggest that one of the mechanisms that enabled the group of the Priests to preserve their knowledge as tacit knowledge was a social structure that legitimized the privatization of the Priests’ knowledge through the exercise of certain social conventions, such as the legitimacy of the Priests to live as a closed group and their primary tasks in the Temple of mediating between God and his people. Consequently, the professional knowledge relating to the Priests’ functions in the Temple and outside was passed on orally; taught by father to son in the private sphere. A. Cohen (1974) reaches a conclusion similar to Funkenstein and Steinsaltz’s idea about “secret knowledge” in his theory of the particular and universal culture of an elite group. Cohen (1974) suggests that tacit knowledge can be transmitted either through unspoken knowledge or by partaking in different rituals that are exclusively accessible to the group (A. Cohen’s theory is discussed in detail in chapter 3, pp. 212–218; cf. Funkenstein 2000). Still, we need to know the means by which the Priests prevented the general public from having access to their special knowledge and their motivation for doing so. Our inquiry so far indicates that there were several interrelated types of “tacit knowledge” that were protected by the group of the Priests, for example the praxis of specialized knowledge. The examination of the formal organization of the Priests in the Temple indicates that the protected knowledge of the Priests included technical skills. In his examination of the court of the Priests, Tropper (1972/3) reaches a similar conclusion regarding their secret knowledge: “The laws, customs, and procedures of the Temple were naturally best known and understood by the Priests themselves. We must bear in mind that the Priests had ancient, well-preserved traditions pertaining to the practice of the Temple observances, many of which were in fact tightly guarded secrets known only to selected priestly groups or families” (Tropper 1972/3:219; Urbach 1975:575). In line with Tropper’s assumption, I pointed out earlier that there were certain functions pertaining to Temple service that belonged exclusively to the group of the Priests, which meant that virtually all male Priests had access to that knowledge. However, there was an inner division within the group of the Priests according to the status of the priestly families. In practice, it meant that important posts in the Temple were controlled for generations by the priestly aristocrats through the practice of nepotism, and important posts were either transmitted from father to son (e.g. the captain of the Temple) or through family ties, e.g. treasurers and trustees (Stern 1976b). In the following, I will examine some case studies which reveal the mechanism by which specialized skills were preserved from generation to generation by certain priestly dynasties. 88

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However, as demonstrated in the beginning of this chapter and below, these occupations required competence in technical skills that were kept secret within the father’s house. Said R. Johanan ben Nuri: “One time I was on my way and an old man came across me and said to me: ‘I am a member of the house of Abtinas. At the beginning when the house of my father was discreet, they would pass their scrolls [containing the prescriptions for frankincense] from one to another’” (t. Yoma 2.7).

The above narrative informs us that the house of Abtinas, which was one of the four dynasties, specialized in certain cultic services and did not want to reveal their trade secrets to others. Their knowledge, we are told, was transmitted from generation to generation by preserving it on scrolls that were kept within the family. Elsewhere, there is a dialogue between the Sages and the members of these fathers’ houses, which takes place after the destruction of the Temple. These members are asked why they did not want to reveal their secrets. In the case of the household of Germu and Agdis (an alternate spelling to “Hugras” in m. Yoma 3.11), we are told that the formal explanation was theological; the members of Germu’s father’s house knew that the Temple was destined for destruction, and they did not want to teach their trade secrets to others, so that they would not be misused and “performed before an idol the way in which they use it before the Omnipresent” (t. Yoma 2.5; cf. ibid. 2.8). In other words, since their knowledge pertained to the holy sphere, they had the responsibility of keeping it secret. The Sages appear to accept the Priests’ explanation and thus the “protected knowledge” of the Priests becomes a legitimate practice of the social convention and must be distinguished from everyday knowledge. Nevertheless, at the beginning of this halakhah (t. Yoma 2.5) and in the following halakhah, we are informed that the primary motivation for their attitude is economic: The members of the house of Abtinas were experts in preparing the incense for producing smoke (cf. m. Yoma 3.11), and they did not want to teach others how to do so. The Sages sent and brought experts from Alexandria in Egypt, who knew how to concoct spices in much the same way. But they were not expert in making the smoke ascend [as well as others]. The smoke coming from the incense of the house of Abtinas would ascend straight as a stick up to the beams, and afterward it scattered in all directions as it came down. That of Alexandrias would scatter and descend immediately [not rising properly] … the Sages sent to them [the members of the house of Abtinas], but they declined to come until the Sages doubled their wages. They had been receiving twelve maneh everyday, and now they began receiving twenty four maneh … The Sages asked them why do you refuse to teach, they answered, the house of our father knew that the Temple would be destroyed and declined to teach so that the incense would not be used for idolatry as it is used for God (t. Yoma 2.6; j. Sheqalim 5.1, 49a). 89

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From the above information it seems that the primary motivation of the Abtinas family was economic. By keeping their specialized knowledge secret they could secure their superior position in the Temple and in addition they had an advantage in the negotiations with the Sages about their salary. The story reveals that they received twice as much as their previous salary. It is interesting to note that the Sages present an identical case with respect to the house of Germu, who did not want to reveal their secrets about the art of making the Show Bread (t. Yoma 2.5; j. Sheqalim 5.1, 48d). Their motivation, however, reflects a historical reality in which these professional families, in their confrontation with the Sages, probably exercised an organized power by shared policy, in order to further strengthen their functional specialization in the Temple. Moreover, Funkenstein and Steinsaltz (1988) inform us that the structure of a secret may have several layers, meaning that a secret may have different motivations which exist simultaneously, as in the case of the Abtinas and Germu families, whose formal secrets were protected for theological and economic reasons. Yet they suggest that there are other kinds of secrets which have different purposes; these secrets are formally disguised and are not defined as secrets, but they are, nevertheless, preserved strictly by the entire society or by certain classes within the social structure as the right way to run society. In view of that, I suggest that the group of the Priests sought to preserve these secrets in order to perpetuate the contemporary social structure and thus maintain their position as a superior group. At the same time, their argument justifies the praxis of maintaining public ignorance. This example once again confirms Funkenstein and Steinsaltz’s theory of the sociology of ignorance mentioned earlier in this chapter, namely that relevant knowledge is consciously and intentionally kept from the public by the dominant group. It is interesting to note, as will be shown later, that the Sages adopt this praxis towards out-group members such as ‘Am ha’aretz. This brings us to the next subject, namely the group of the Priests as constituting the cultural hegemony in Jewish society.

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THE GROUP OF THE PRIESTS AS CONSTITUTING THE CULTURAL HEGEMONY IN JEWISH SOCIETY

The task undertaken by this study is to examine a range of conceptual approaches taken from the field of social sciences regarding the ways in which ideological hegemony is used as a mechanism of power by the dominant group in order to perpetuate its power and to apply these new observations to the group of the Priests. In the following, I will present two linked influential theories, namely ideological hegemony and discourse as a source of power and knowledge. Both theories seek to reveal the sources of political power used by the ruling groups in order to serve their interests. In light of these theories, I will examine the ways in which the group of the Priests constituted the cultural hegemony in Jewish society. The group of the Priests during the Second Temple period One of the main and primary sources which enabled the group of the Priests to enjoy certain privileges and maintain their superiority in the social hierarchy for many generations is the stipulations of biblical laws, which were perceived by the majority of the Jewish society as divine laws. Thus, their religious and political power is legitimized by several interlocking components that originate in the divine laws practiced in a society whose social structure was traditional and religious in character. These components, however, have already been discussed throughout this chapter. For the sake of convenience, I will present them in brief: (i) The superiority of the Priests in the social structure is reflected in the widespread social convention that they were the chosen tribe whose main task was to mediate between God and the people. (ii) They were perceived as natural heirs who held domain over the Temple and its service. (iii) They were exclusively entitled to hold positions related to the Temple and its service, as well as other major positions in various cultural institutions, for example as judges in the Supreme Court and the local courts, and teachers 91

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and interpreters of the law. In the macro context, they were the natural representatives of the Jewish nation before the Roman empire. (iv) Their right to possess material wealth was legitimized in biblical codes which stipulate that various kinds of offerings belong exclusively to the Priests. (v) The right to live as a closed group: Jewish society commonly accepted the idea that non-priestly males could not join the group, and that the Priests preserved the purity of their priestly lineage and engaged in the practice of endogamy. I suggest from the above observation the following related premises: first, that the group of the Priests could further develop their ideology based on the divine laws; second, that the social structure of the society was religious and traditional in essence, which enabled the group of the Priests to universalize their own interests by presenting their ideological hegemony as being in the interests of all. Thus the internalization of the ruling ideology would have a greater impact on Jewish society. However, the group of the Priests were not the only dominant group in Jewish society. In the subsequent inquiry, I will illustrate how the group of the Priests, together with other elite groups, were able to perpetuate their power and protect their common interests.

Ideological hegemony according to Gramsci The theory of cultural hegemony (hegemonia) was introduced by Gramsci (1971), a leading Italian Marxist and political theorist (1891–1937), who wrote his major work “Selections from a Prison Notebook” as a political prisoner in the 1920s and 1930s in Mussolini’s Italy. Gramsci furthered Marxist thinking on the concept of ideological hegemony,63 like his Italian predecessors, Pareto and Mosca.64 (Their theories will be discussed at length in chapter 3, pp. 219–223.) Gramsci postulated that political power is not exercised by overtly coercive force, as in the traditional Marxist 63

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For Marx, ideology is the process which takes place behind the back of the ruled class. It is the ideas of the ruling class which produce and structure the consciousness of the general public unconsciously. However, the ideology of the ruling class is dominated by the economic determinism of those who have the means of production: “The class which is the ruling material force is at the same time its ruling intellectual force … has control over the means of mental production so that, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it … The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material relationships … grasped as ideas; hence the relationships which make the one class the ruling one, therefore the ideas of dominance … Insofar as they rule as a class and determine the extent and compass of an epoch … They rule also as thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of their age” (Marx and Engels 1984:64; cf. Bennett 1982). Like Pareto and Mosca, Gramsci was convinced that an elite group must be organized against a diverse multitude.

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

theory of power, but through a dominant world view, ideas, and symbols, which he named “ideological hegemony.”65 Accordingly, ideological hegemony is a commonly held system of beliefs and ideas, diffused by the process of socialization into every area of daily life and based on the dominant world view of the ruling groups in society and the practice of norms by the majority of the population (Mouffe 1981). As a result, ideological hegemony is internalized by the population, becomes part of what is generally called “common sense,” and is conceived as the only way of running society (Boggs 1976:39; Hall 2004). As a Marxist living in a Western society, Gramsci contemplated why the ideology of the bourgeoisie was accepted by most of society (i.e. farmers and the working class) despite the fact that they did not share the same interests, world view, etc. (Kimmerling 1995:199). Gramsci’s main concern was to disclose forms of ideological control and manipulation that serve the ruling groups to perpetuate various repressive structures in society. His historical analysis demonstrates different strategies by which elite groups attempt through ideology to “universalize” their own interests as the interests of all. In other words, the ability of the dominant groups to create a consensus of ideology with the common people, which consists of apparently shared values and ideas that are rooted in the social structure. Moreover, Gramsci’s historical analysis reveals that hegemony cannot be held by a single dominant group, but only by a compositional coalition of various elite groups who share similar interests and have political solidarity during a specific period of time. He called this kind of conjunctural alliance a “historical bloc” (blocco storico). The dominant groups, nevertheless, are able to perpetuate their power and protect their common interests through their privileged access to various social institutions such as schools, churches, universities, political parties, and the media. These institutions in turn have a vested interest in maintaining and spreading ideological hegemony by creating behavioral norms, traditional cultures, values, world view, and “holy” history. The dominant group is therefore able to legitimize structures of power in various social domains, such as politics, culture, religion, and the economy (Silfen 1982:109–122; Hall 1982; 2004). Gramsci’s novel view of “hegemony” made a great contribution to modern thought, redefining the concept of power and revealing how ideological tools serve the interests of the ruling groups. 65

Unlike Marx, who assumed that ideology reflects the material interest of the ruling class, Gramsci considered, ideology to be an independent component in the political system. In contrast to Marx, who believed that the economy was the source which shaped people’s behavior and thinking in the political and cultural domains, Gramsci suggested that cultural hegemony was as powerful and influential as the economy. 93

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Other theories about “ideology” were developed by various Neo-Marxists scholars, such as: Louis Althusser, Max Horkheimer, Walter Benjamin, Herbert Marcuse, and Jürgen Habermas, who belonged to the Frankfurt school.66 (For detailed information see Adorno and Horkheimer 1993; cf. Bennett 1982; Hall 1982.) In addition, there are representatives of the postmodernist school, such as Michel Foucault, Edward Said, and Jacques Derrida (Kimmerling 1995:199–200). What is common to all these scholars is that they perceive the concept of ideology as a process which takes place behind the backs of the masses, constituting and structuring the consciousness of the “ruled class.” We shall turn now to Foucault’s theory. Foucault’s contribution to the theory of ideology is that he introduced a new conceptual tool labeled “discourse,” which enabled him to reveal the social powers which create ideology and the means to perpetuate the interests of the dominant group.

Discourse and its praxis as a source of power and knowledge Foucault’s persuasive theory reveals the strategies and mechanisms of power. The study of discourse and its praxis is the study of power. According to Foucault, discourse is the source of power and knowledge: “The exercise of power perpetually creates knowledge and conversely, knowledge constantly induces effects of power” (Foucault 1980:52). Generally speaking, a field of discourse is an organizing principle of knowledge through which the individual is socially constructed. Every culture has a dominant group of discursive elements in which people live unconsciously. In practice, a discourse determines what people think and know. It presupposes the way human behavior is conceived; their norms, truths, values, morality, social conventions, lifestyle, world view, collective memory, etc. In other words, discourse is the means by which the social identity of the individual is constituted (Foucault 1972; cf. Burkitt 1991:92–100; Freidson 1986:6). The relationship between power, institution, and normalization Like Gramsci, Foucault realized that power is channeled through institutions. Accordingly, all fields of discourse are institutionalized types. Foucault, however, was aware of the heterogeneity of these institutions and their solidarity, established through the policy of alliances (cf. Spivak 1988). Moreover, power is exercised through a system of agents — the professionals, i.e. judges, doctors, policemen, teachers, etc., whose primary task is to employ the hegemonic discourse as a daily praxis achieved through normalization and social control: 66

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The Frankfurt school represents to various degrees a critical philosophical variant of Marxist “critical theory.”

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“Normalization does impose homogeneity … Normalization keeps watch over the excessive and the exceptional … Institutions will form and well-adjust the young into supple, happy subjects of normalization. Institutions will reform the abnormal who stray beyond the limits” (Caputo and Yount 1993:6). In his historical analysis, Foucault showed how disciplines of different professions are generated, developed, and perpetuated through a variety of institutions, such as the school system, police organizations, clinical medicine, prisons, factories, administrative and legal hierarchies. The professional agents of these institutions are responsible for transmitting and employing the hegemonic discourse in daily praxis, and at the same time exert social control on the individual so that his perception and behavior is molded accordingly. The inevitable consequence is that the individual cannot exist outside of the discourse and its praxis, since they are enforced everywhere. When examining the institution of prison, Foucault explained how the prisoner’s behavior is normalized and controlled: “ ‘A political anatomy’ defines how one may have a hold over others’ bodies, not only so that they may do what one wishes, but so that they may operate as one wishes, with the techniques, the speed and the efficiency that one determines. Thus discipline produces subjected and practiced bodies, ‘docile bodies’ ” (Foucault 1977:136). Foucault here, despite important differences in terminology and theoretical framework, is surfing very close to Gramsci’s theory about ideological hegemony. Foucault reveals how the hegemonic discourse and its daily praxis are channeled through a system of professional agents who shape the gestalt of the entire society so that everyone thinks and behaves in the same way: “A corpus of knowledge that presupposed the same way of looking at things, the same division of the perceptual field … the same system of transcribing what one perceived in what one said (the vocabulary, same play of metaphor)” (Foucault 1972:33).

The Priests as a superior group in Jewish society The coalition of elite groups in Jewish society before the destruction of the Temple Scholars have pointed out that during the last decades of the Second Temple period the group of the Priests was not the only privileged group in Jewish society (Jeremias 1969:233–245; Stern 1976b; 1983; Goodblatt 1983; Rappaport 1996; Levine 2002:351–373). In line with Gramsci’s notion of a “historical bloc,” there was a coalition of three dominant groups who ruled Jewish society and shared a political solidarity and a common interest in the micro and macro context. This coalition comprised religious and secular elements: the hereditary nobility of Priests, the secular aristocrats, and the new upper class of the scribes. 95

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(i) The hereditary nobility of the Priests. The high status of the Priests in Jewish society granted them social and symbolic capital in terms of having resources based on social connections through which they established good relations with the Roman government. The status of the Priests was given official recognition by the secular authorities. Josephus explicitly writes that: “the constitution [of the state of the Jews] became an aristocracy, and the High Priests were entrusted with the leadership of the nation ” (Josephus, Ant. XX, 10.5, 251; cf. Mark 14.43, 53; Luke 19.47). The noble Priests had major political and religious influence. As shown already in the micro context, they occupied high positions in various cultural institutions, such as the Temple, the Supreme Court, local courts of justice, and the synagogue. In the macro context, they functioned as representatives and mediators between the Jewish nation and the Roman empire. (ii) The secular aristocrats were wealthy families who owned land, occupied high positions, exercised authority in Jewish society, and like the group of the Priests, received social recognition from the Roman empire. The family of Herod, for example, as recounted by Josephus, was entitled to appoint the High Priest in the Temple. Josephus mentions that both Agripas the First and the Second received their political authority from the Roman empire to appoint the High Priests and to control the Temple and its services. Like the Priests, they mediated between the Jewish people and the Roman administrators. (iii) Scholarly investigation reveals that the new ruling group of the members of the scribes was constituted mainly of a large number of noble Priests, among them many Priests who belonged to the nobility of the high priesthood and had a leading position in the Temple67 and others who were common Priests who occupied special positions in Jewish society. In addition, there were many who came from the group of the Sages; The majority came from noble families, like Rabban Gamaliel the Elder (Acts 5.34) and there were others who had gained their positions in the social hierarchy through “Torah knowledge.” They functioned mainly as lawyers and legal representatives, both in the Supreme Court and in the local courts of justice, and played an important role in the governmental system of various cities and villages (Jeremias 1969:233–245; cf. Goodblatt 1983). From the above I conclude that the group of the Priests together with other dominant groups were able to perpetuate power and protect their common interests through their privileged access to all cultural institutions in Jewish society of the Second Temple period. 67

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Jeremias listed the following prominent Priests: R. Ananias who was the captain of the Temple (m. Abot 3.2). The chief Priest Simeon (Josephus, Vita 197); Simeon son of a Temple captain; Ishmael ben Elisha who was the grandson of reigning high Priests (t. Hallah 1.10); R. Zadoq, a distinguished Priest of an old high priestly family; and his son R. Elazar; the writer Josephus who belonged to the first weekly course of Yehoyarib (Josephus, Vita 1ff ) (Jeremias 1969:233).

Mapping the social identity “Priests”

The ideological hegemony during the Tannaitic period There are several indications that the ideological hegemony established by the Priests continued to exist to a great extent in Jewish society during the Tannaitic period. (i) The hope that the Temple would be rebuilt. Generally speaking, we may assume that the maintenance of several beliefs and ideas pertaining to the Temple enabled the group of the Priests to perpetuate their power as an elite group. In particular, the ideological aspiration that the Temple would definitely be rebuilt strengthened the superior position of the Priests in Jewish society during the Tannaitic period. (ii) The fact that the names of the priestly courses continued to be recalled for many generations after the destruction of the Temple, as reflected in the liturgical proclamation of the priestly courses in synagogue each Sabbath (piyutic composition), is another indication that the group of the Priests was perceived as constituting the dominant hegemony of Jewish society. (iii) The practice of hegemony by the group of the Priests. My examination has revealed that the group of Priests continued to practice many aspects of their ideology, such as eating in ritual purity and receiving heave-offerings, the practice of endogamy, living in priestly settlements, and the retention of certain functions that belonged exclusively to the Priests. (iv) The indirect confirmation of the Priests’ superiority by the counterelite group. As will be demonstrated in the following chapters, the group of Sages sought to establish a counter-hegemony in a number of different ways; nevertheless, these modes of resistance to the priestly hegemony existed only within the contemporary social structure and not outside of it. The practical implication of this is that the Sages as a counter-elite group legitimized the superiority of the group of the Priests in the social structure by further confirming important components of the ideological hegemony. This attitude is reflected in the stipulations of new halakhot. The Tannaitic halakhot, for example, further support (a) the meticulous preservation of the priestly lineage through the practice of endogamy, (b) the legitimacy of certain functions as belonging exclusively to the group of the Priests, (c) the enactment of various laws with respect to the separation of tithes, to ensure that the Priests are entitled to receive heave-offerings. The historical bloc of the ruling group after the destruction of the Temple Some scholars maintain that the religious and secular aristocrats did not suffer great damage after the war. Although many of them died during the Great Revolt, it seems that most of those Priests who survived the war were able to rescue their wealth and property, which was the foundation of their political power (Büchler 1912:29–41; Alon 1989:62; cf. Goodblatt 1983:165). 97

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According to Josephus, the members of the high priesthood and the aristocracy who chose to cooperate with the Roman empire had their lives spared and their property restored after the war: “But there were others who, watching their opportunity for escaping in safety, made off to the Romans. Among these were the chief Priests Joseph and Jesus, and certain sons of chief Priests … Many others also of the aristocracy went over with the chief Priests. Caesar both received them with all other courtesy, and recognizing that they would find life distasteful amidst foreign customs, dispatched them to Gophnah (located 12 miles north of Jerusalem) advising them to remain there for the present, and promising to restore every man’s property, so soon as he had leisure after the war. They accordingly retired, gladly and in perfect security, to the small town assigned” (Josephus, Jewish War VI, 2.2, 114–115; cf. Luria 1973). Moreover, the literary examination by Büchler reveals that many Priests continued to own land during the Tannaitic period, and that the law concerning priestly dues and tithes was observed in spite of a change in property conditions (Büchler 1912:29–41). The Amoraitic literature describes many wealthy Priests who lived in the early Amoraitic period (Kimelman 1983). Despite the fact that the group of the Priests, especially the prominent families of the high priesthood, lost their political power due to the abolition of two central institutions, namely the Temple and the Supreme Court in Jerusalem, scholarly examination reveals that both the religious and the secular aristocrats during the Tannaitic period, namely the Priests, the Sages, the patriarchs, and the wealthy families, played a decisive role in political, cultural, and religious spheres after 70 C.E. (Jeremias 1969; Alon 1989:21–22; Kimelman 1983; Goodblatt 1983). With respect to the group of the Priests, Alon suggested the following: “According to the standard account, the destruction of the Temple put an end to the priesthood, since there was no role left for the Priests to play. But this overlooks the fact that the Priests had always had functions to perform outside the Temple. From time immemorial they had served as judges and popular leaders; age-old traditions endowed them with authority; and the people continued to look to them until the very last days of the Second Commonwealth” (Alon 1989:21). Kimelman refines Alon’s hypothesis and disputes his assumption that after the Great Revolt the group gradually lost their social importance. Kimelman maintains that neither the First nor the Second Jewish Revolt undermined the political and financial status of the noble priestly families. His examination reveals that there are several pieces of evidence which document that priestly families had a political and religious influence for many generations in the micro and macro contexts. His examination, based on literary and archaeological evidence, indicates that in the third century they had leading positions in Sepphoris. (For a detailed examination, see Kimelman 1983.) 98

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Kimelman’s hypothesis is further supported by Jeremias’s contention that in many places, the Priests assisted in the local courts of justice, since it was usually the duty of the Priests to sit in a court (m. Sanhedrin 1.3); they probably occupied this position in an honorary capacity (b. Yoma 26a). He also suggests that the Priests were trained as scribes because of their learning and priestly status. His contention is based on Philo, who states that there were Priests living in the country who were well versed in scriptural learning and who were entrusted with the synagogue service (Jeremias 1969:207). Furthermore, the contention that the Priests continued to enjoy political and material status is supported by archaeological finds: (i) Inscriptions found in a number of synagogues indicate that the Priests had leading positions in their communities and material wealth; for example, the excavation in Dura Europos revealed a central inscription in the synagogue in Aramaic dating to the period of Caser Philips (244–245 C.E.). This inscription specifies that Samuel the Priest, who came from the priestly course Jedayiah, was the leader of the Jewish community. (For bibliography, see J. Naveh 1978: 127–132.) Another inscription, written in Hebrew, was found in the synagogue of Hurbat Susia, which dates to the third century. In the inscription, two Priests are addressed with several honorific appellations, such as the respectable scholars Yisi the Priest and R. Johanan the Priest, the scribes and the scholars. These Priests contributed to the construction of the building by making the mosaic in the synagogue and by donating money (J. Naveh 1978:115–116; 1992a:130–132), which again testifies to their material wealth and to their respectable position in Jewish society. (ii) The inscription in the necropolis of Beth She’areim indicates that Priests were buried together with wealthy and noble families (Schwabe and Lifshitz 1967:14, 101). The above observation reveals that the ideological hegemony exercised by the group of the Priests was internalized by the majority of Jewish society, especially the group of the Sages. (This topic is discussed in detail in chapter 5.) This is reflected in the various cultural institutions that continued to exist after the First Revolt. Moreover, the group of the Priests, which was not the only elite group in Jewish society, continued to exert political power in various social areas of Jewish life. These observations impel us to ask an important question: If the Priests continued to exist as an elite group, and to a great extent their ideology dominated the cultural hegemony of Jewish society, why then are the Tannaitic sources silent about this? This is not the place for wild conjecture. Nevertheless, I will theorize that the Sages must have consciously concealed the political power and influence of the Priests in their own society, which in itself is an indication that the Priests continued to retain their political power. 99

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CHAPTER THREE

Mapping the social identity “Sages”

100

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INTRODUCTION

Scholars disagree as to whether the Sages in fact constituted the socio-religious leadership in Jewish society after the Second Temple period and whether the self-ascription of the Sages as an elite group indeed reflects historical reality. The statement made by S. J. D. Cohen will illustrate this point: “According to the traditional answer, the rabbis were the leaders of the Jews and the molders of Judaism. Drawn from all segments of the population they were the elite of Jewish society. Their positions as judges, teachers, and synagogue leaders enabled them to propagate the way of Torah among the masses … This view is false in almost every detail” (S. J. D. Cohen 1999:975, italics mine). (For discussion and scholarly review see chapter 3, pp. 170–197.) In light of this, it is important to underline that the task undertaken here is first and foremost not to verify the authenticity of these ascriptions, but to demonstrate that the Sages perceived themselves as a privileged group and acted accordingly, and secondly, that they were consciously seeking to replace the existing priestly hegemony. By examining various social components (e.g. the politics of constructing historical identity, group consciousness, social network, interdependency, and the organization of the group) in their natural setting, I will show how the Sages created their own distinct privileged group identity. Before examining the different components mentioned above I need to ask a preliminary question, namely: Were the Pharisees the forerunners of the Sages?

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THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE SAGES AND THE PHARISEES

Much that has been said about the Pharisees revolves around the pivotal question of whether the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages. This chapter reexamines the nature of the relationship between the historical Pharisees and the Sages, using analytical tools from social science with respect to the generation of social identity and group interaction. One of the most perplexing issues relating to the identity of the group of Sages is whether the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages. In other words, is there any connection between the Pharisees before the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. and the Sages of late first and second centuries? (Neusner 1973a; Rivkin 1978; S. J. D. Cohen 1984). One of the main sources of this methodological problem is the usage of different bodies of literary sources, such as Josephus, the New Testament, the Qumran library, and the Talmudic literature, which differ in their factual descriptions, character, and intentions (for a detailed summary see Neusner 1973b:1–11, 45–66, 81–90). Inevitably, this methodological problem leads to a multiplicity of opinions and suggestions which run counter to each other (cf. Neusner 1973a; Mason 1991; S. J. D. Cohen 1984; Rivkin 1969/1970; Sanders 1990; for extensive scholarly review see Newman 1998:46–73). Despite the multiple diverse opinions, there is consensus among scholars that the sources do not contradict each other but complement each other. The sources are also authentic with respect to the historical coherence of the development of the group of the Pharisees. Newman’s examination reveals that when it comes to the usage of the Talmudic literature there is a basic dichotomy among scholars with respect to the authenticity of the historical sources. (i) The “lenient” approach refers to those who regard the Talmudic literature as an authentic source that reflects the social and halakhic reality of the historical Pharisees (cf. Rivkin 1969/1970; 1978; Sanders 1990; Z. Safrai 2000). (ii) The “skeptical” approach is taken by those who methodologically restrict the usage of the Talmudic literature (Neusner 1973a; Lightstone 1975; 102

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S. J. D. Cohen 1984; Saldarini 1988; Grabbe 1999; cf. Newman 1998:46–73). Moreover, Newman’s examination highlights that within the “skeptical” approach there is a wide range of diverse opinions. Lightstone, for example, does not see any connection between the historical Pharisees and the Sages of Talmudic literature.1 Saldarini and Grabbe, whose approaches are similar to Lightstone’s, nevertheless, recognize some similarities between the two groups.2 In contrast to Lightstone, S. J. D. Cohen considers only the Tannaitic sources as reflecting the historical Pharisees, and methodologically uses those sources which explicitly mention the term “Pharisees.” Neusner (1973a), who is also selective in his usage of Talmudic sources, does not restrict himself to the philological approach and uses other sources which reflect the historical Pharisees. In its re-examination of the nature of the relationship between the historical Pharisees and the Tannaitic Sages, this monograph offers an alternative methodological approach as follows. First, I will restrict our sources to the Tannaitic literature and use them together with other contemporary sources. Secondly, I will use three interrelated questions as guidelines: 1) Did the Tannaitic Sages identify themselves with the Pharisees? 2) Were the Pharisees the forerunners of the Sages? 3) Were the Pharisees a sect? Thirdly, I will re-arrange the material offered so far by scholars to highlight certain components that contribute to the generation of social identity and group interaction, especially with respect to the first and second questions. Regarding the third question, I will re-examine whether the usage of the term sect, which is employed by scholars, is adequate to describe the group of the Pharisees. Did the Tannaitic Sages identify themselves with the Pharisees? When treating the question whether the Tannaitic Sages identified themselves with the historical Pharisees, one cannot ignore the philological methodological problem raised by the Tannaitic sources; the Sages are never addressed as Pharisees, including past figures such as Hillel and Shammai, R. Johanan 1

2

Lightstone states: “It does not appear that the road back to the nature of the pre-70 controversy between the Sadducees and the Pharisees is through the Rabbinic literature” (Lightstone 1975:217). Both Saldarini and Grabbe raise serious doubts as to whether the Tannaitic literature reflects the historical Pharisees, yet they recognize some features common to both groups. Saldarini writes: “Since rabbinic teaching seems continuous with what is attributed to the Pharisees in the New Testament and Josephus, the early Sages are assumed to have been Pharisees and the rabbis to have been an extension of the Pharisaic tradition.” Later he concludes: “Such a historical use of rabbinic stories is illegitimate for a number of reasons and fails to produce a historically reliable account of the origins and history of the Pharisees and the Sadducees” (Saldarini 1988:201, 235). In a similar vein, Grabbe writes: “It is difficult to take all references to the Perushim as referring to the same group (whether Pharisees or something else). Although the teachings of the Perushim seem to agree with those of the Sages most of the time” (Grabbe 1999:54). 103

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ben Zakkai, Gamaliel the Elder and his son Simeon, who can be identified as Pharisees from external sources (cf. Neusner 1973a:239–254; Rivkin 1978:130– 170; Goodman 1987:82; Newman 1998:59). I would briefly mention that this observation has disturbed scholars and given rise to various solutions. One solution relevant to our later discussion “Were the Pharisees a sect?” was offered by S. J. D. Cohen, who suggested that despite the fact that the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages, they did not want to identify themselves with the social category “Pharisees.” S. J. D. Cohen explains this in his own words: “As a result of this effort to minimize sectarian self-identification, the rabbis did not see themselves as Pharisees and showed little interest in their sectarian roots” (S. J. D. Cohen 1984:49). Despite the philological limits imposed by our sources, I will use social identity theory to demonstrate that there are several valuable elements which imply that the Tannaitic Sages identified themselves with the group of the Pharisees in their polemic with “other” significant groups. The identity of “significant other” in the Tannaitic literature One of the indications which strengthens the notion that the Sages identified themselves with the Pharisees is that in their polemic with other “historical” groups, the Pharisees are never addressed as the ones who stand in contrast to the Sages, but rather the Sadducees, who in other sources are known as the rival group to the Pharisees. The evidence below depicts the social category Sadducee as the other. Said Rabban Gamaliel II: “There was a Sadducee who lived with us in the same alleyway in Jerusalem” (m. Erubin 6.2).

The story above, which is told in the name of Rabban Gamaliel II, explicitly states that the Sadducees are perceived as the “other” and stand in contrast to the group of the Sages. In fact, as will be demonstrated shortly, in the polemic with the group of the Sages, two social categories are perceived as the “other” and stand in contrast to both the Sages and the Pharisees. These two social categories are the Sadducees and the Boethusians. It is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss at length the identity of the Boethusians. However, I will briefly present the methodological problem raised by the sources regarding the identification of the Boethusians and the available solutions offered by scholars. (For extensive examination and bibliography see Herr 1981; Sussmann 1990; for recent examination and bibliography see Regev 1999:21–44.) Scholars are well aware of the fact that the social category “Essenes” is absent in the Talmudic literature, whereas the social category “Boethusians” is 104

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mentioned often and exclusively in the Talmudic literature;3 Josephus and other contemporary sources do not mention the Boethusians. However, the similarity between the Sadducee and the Boethusian halakhot and the world view attributed to them in the Talmudic literature on the one hand, and the halakhot and world view reflected in the Dead Sea Scrolls on the other has led scholars to ponder the relationship between these three social categories. In order to bridge the gap between the sources, scholars have offered various solutions: (i) The Boethusians are identical with the Essenes and the Dead Sea group. (ii) The Boethusians and the Sadducees are not identical in the Talmudic literature but are related to each other.4 (iii) The Boethusians in the Talmudic literature are closely related to the historical Sadducees and are perceived as their sub-group. As already mentioned, this is not the place to solve the enigma regarding the identity of the Boethusians; however, I tend to agree with the view that the Boethusians are more likely to be related to the Sadducees than the Essenes; the Boethusians and the Sadducees are portrayed in the rabbinical literature as the establishment in Jewish society. The Boethusians, like the Sadducees, participated in the Temple service and constituted the Jewish aristocracy, whereas the Essenes were a marginal group who eschewed the Temple and Jewish society. Moreover, as opposed to the world view of the Essenes, the Boethusians, according to the Sages, did not believe in the immortality of the soul and the world to come. (This issue will be discussed shortly.) The Sadducees, as testified in other sources, shared a similar world view with the Boethusians (Josephus, Jewish War II, 10.14, 164–165; Ant. XVIII, 1.4, 16; Acts 23.8). From the above, it would appear that the Boethusians were closely related to the historical Sadducees. Before reaching any conclusion, I will examine another related aspect regarding the perception of the “other” in the process of generating group identity. In-group antagonism towards out-group members According to social identity theory, the basic premise of group belonging is that the members of the same group will show sympathy towards members of the in-group and antagonism towards members of the out-group. Members of the in-group strive for positive social identity by engaging in social comparison with other groups. The general tendency is to perceive a positive in-group 3

4

Herr identifies thirteen instances where the Beothusians are mentioned in the Talmudic literature with respect to their Halakhic matters and world view (Herr 1981:16–19). This suggestion is supported by the tradition in Abot de Rabbi Natan, which makes a distinction between the Sadducees and the Boethusians and in fact describes the birth of these two social categories (cf. ARN/A 5). 105

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behavior and negative out-group behavior (Festinger 1954; Tajfel 1974; 1978; 1979; Tajfel and Turner 1979; Turner 1975; Taylor and Moghaddam 1994; Jackendoff 1994). Social identity theory provides a framework for interpreting the findings of scholarly examination. Accordingly, the Tannaitic sources reveal an ongoing polemic between the Pharisees/Sages and the Sadducees or the Boethusians. The disagreement revolves around various halakhic subjects, such as scriptures which render the hands unclean, the service of the Day of Atonement, and special purity regulations for sin offerings, calendar issues, and burning the red heifer. (For a detailed examination and sources see Sussmann 1990 and lately Regev 1999.) In addition, the polemic also relates to different world views, such as the issue of the resurrection of the dead (ARN/A 5; cf. Josephus, Jewish War II, 10.14, 164–165). Moreover, the examination of Rivkin indicates that in these polemics it is always the Pharisees or the Sages who are in contention with either the Sadducees or the Boethusians and that in each case the victors are the Pharisees or the Sages. Rivkin further reveals that in the polemic with the opponent groups, the Sages seek to publicly expose their error. (For an extensive examination see Rivkin 1969/1970; 1978; cf. S. J. D. Cohen 1984.) My examination so far indicates that the Sadducees/Boethusians are perceived as the “others” who stand in contrast to the group of the Sages. Moreover, nowhere in the Tannaitic literature do we encounter a polemic between the Sages and the Pharisees. In fact, the silence of the text reinforces the notion that the Tannaitic Sages identity themselves with the Pharisees as their forerunners. So far, I have demonstrated that the Pharisees are identified as belonging to the group of the Sages, in contrast to other social categories such as the Sadducees or Boethusians, who are portrayed as competitive groups. Were the Pharisees the forerunners of the Sages? Earlier we observed that the Sages never call themselves Pharisees in the Tannaitic literature; however, both Josephus and the writers of the New Testament identify some members of the Sages with the group of the Pharisees, such as Simeon ben Gamaliel (Josephus, Vita 191) and Gamaliel the Elder (Acts 5.34) (cf. Rivkin 1978; S. J. D. Cohen 1984; Goodman 1987:82). I may deduce that the figures mentioned above were Tannaitic Sages. Furthermore, one of the main indications of support for the idea that the group of the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Tannaitic Sages is the striking similarity between the Sages and the historical Pharisees with respect to the diacritical features and value system. In the following, I will present some of the characteristics of the historical Pharisees as they are portrayed in Josephus and the New Testament, and compare them with the portrayal of the Tannaitic Sages. 106

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The diacritical features of the Pharisees according to the New Testament The New Testament is a valuable source in the sense that it gives us a glimpse of how another contemporary and competing group portrays the Pharisees as “significant other.” Moreover, as will be demonstrated in the following chapter, there is a striking similarity between the portrayal of the Pharisees in the New Testament and the portrayal of the Sages in the Tannaitic and Talmudic literature (cf. chapter 3, pp. 142–143, 185–186). Let us now turn to the evidence in the New Testament regarding the diacritical features of the Pharisees. The Pharisees are recognized as a distinct group by several diacritical features such as appellations, dress, and lifestyle. The group of the Pharisees seems to be conscious of its collective identity, using signifying peculiarities in order to express and constitute its own distinction as a social group and at the same time its position in the social structure. These are some of the main characteristics: (i) They are recognized by appellations such as “Pharisees” (pharisaioi), “teachers of law” (nomikoi) (Luke 11.46), and “being called Rabbi by men” (Matt. 23.7).5 (ii) They are recognized by their clothes: “Be aware of the scribes who like to go about in long robes” (Luke 20.45) and “They make their phylacteries (tephillin6) broad and their fringes (tzitzit7) long” (Matt. 23.5). From this piece of evidence it seems that usage of tephillin and tzitzit was a common Jewish symbol belonging to the “social context” of Jewish society.8 However, the Pharisees “shaped” these symbols differently so that they could mark their own distinction within the Jewish context by making their tzitzit longer and their tephillin broader. By using such signifying distinctions, they were able to establish for themselves and for others their position in the social structure.9 (iii) They are recognized by their lifestyle, which includes their manners and social behavior in the public sphere as ones who thrive on the respect of others: “They love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and the salutations in the market places” (Matt. 23.6–7). The sources reveal that the Pharisees not only love to be respected by others, but they appear to be respected 5

6 7 8

9

It should be underlined that this is the only source which explicitly identifies the Pharisees with the appellation Rabbi. One cannot ignore the fact that Jesus was also addressed by his Disciples as “Rabbi.” The usage and implication of the appellation “Rabbi” is discussed elsewhere; cf. chapter 3, pp. 170–176. See glossary. See glossary. It was a general commandment (mitzvah) for male Jews to use these items, not only when they prayed but elsewhere as well. Baumgarten reaches another conclusion, stating that such a distinction is typical of sectarian identity: “These distinctive variations allowed recognition by outsiders … such recognition is a crucial aspect in the formation and reinforcement of sectarian identity” (Baumgarten 1998:391). 107

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by the Jewish public, as noted by Josephus (Josephus, Ant. XIII, 10.6, 297–298). Moreover, the description above brings to mind the symbolic hierarchy that is strongly manifested by the group of the Sages, as I have shown throughout this monograph, and their demand for respect from the public. (iv) They are recognized by a specific lifestyle. The Pharisees are described as those who are scrupulous with respect to the observance of tithes and ritual purity. Here are some examples: “Woe to you Pharisees for you tithe every mint and rue and every herb” (Luke 11.42). When Jesus received the invitation to dine at the house of the Pharisee, he (the host) was astonished when he found out that his guest “did not have a ritual bath (ebaptisthē) before dinner” (Luke 11.38); Elsewhere it states: “You Pharisees cleanse the inside of the cup and the plate” (Luke 11.38). The concern of the Pharisees about issues such as the separation of tithes and ritual purity and impurity recalls the intensive involvement of the Sages with these two topics (cf. chapter 4 and chapter 5, pp. 257–264). Similarity between the world view of the Pharisees and the Sages Both Josephus and the New Testament sources provide us with additional information with respect to the similarities between the historical Pharisees and the Sages regarding their world view. (i) The traditions of the Fathers: According to the account in Josephus, the Pharisees were recognized as a distinct group with respect to the law and its interpretation.10 The Pharisaic interpretation of the law, we are told, was evaluated according to the “tradition of their fathers” (Josephus, Ant. XIII, 16.2, 408). Elsewhere Josephus writes: “I wish merely to explain that the Pharisees had passed on to the people certain regulations handed down by former generations and not recorded in the laws of Moses” (Josephus, Ant. XIII, 10.6, 297). The above considerations have led scholars to draw a parallel between the Pharisaic law according to “the tradition of the fathers” (hē paradosis tōn presbyterōn) and the law of the Sages handed down to them from their forefathers, in the following manner. Baumgarten’s (1987) examination of Pharisaic paradosis (tradition) reveals that paradosis is a technical term found in several independent sources, e.g. Josephus, the New Testament, and the Mishna, denoting different practices of the law that were not written in the law of Moses and that were observed by the historical Pharisees and later by the Sages. His idea is based on the following observations. In the New Testament sources, the technical term paradosis is used by Paul, who identifies himself as a former Pharisee. When he recalls his past life as a Pharisee he writes: “I … was extremely zealous to the traditions of 10

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It should be noted that despite the fact that the Pharisees are characterized as observing an oral law according to the traditions of the Fathers in addition to the written law, it is most likely that other groups had their own interpretation of the Mosaic law. (For bibliography and scholarly discussion see Baumgarten 1987:64, n. 4.)

Mapping the social identity “Sages”

my fathers” (Gal. 1.14; cf. Phil. 3.5–6). Moreover, according to the sources in Mark 7 and Matthew 15.1–20, the Pharisees are distinguished by their paradosis. Furthermore, Baumgarten correlates between the Greek terminologies paradidōmi (to transmit, to hand over) and paralambanō (to receive), which are accounted in Mark 7.4 and their Hebrew counterparts ‫( מסר‬to transmit, hand over) and ‫( קבל‬to receive) accounted in the first chapter in Mishna Abot (known as the Traditions of the Fathers). The Hebrew counterparts, he concludes, are conceived as “a prominent technical term for the process of transmission of Pharisaic Torah” (Baumgarten 1987:67; cf. Mason 1991:230– 235, 292–293). Baumgarten’s philological examination regarding the usage of the technical term paradosis in different sources to characterize the group of the Pharisees so far confirms my examination, which is discussed elsewhere, with respect to the historical construction of the Tannaitic Sages. In the process of producing group identity, the Tannaitic Sages sought to construct a historical continuity between what supposedly happened in the past and their present situation. Their efforts were directed at showing that their group identity was essentially connected to their function as guardians of the law (written and oral) conferred on them from the fathers and transmitted to the next generation. Furthermore, several scholarly examinations indicate that the tradition of the law attributed to Pharisaic teaching encompasses some of the halakhic issues discussed by Tannaitic Sages, such as ritual purity and impurity, separation of tithes, and rules regarding Sabbath and other Jewish holidays. (For detailed discussion see Neusner 1973a:239–254; for bibliography see Newman 1998:47–48.) The above examination indicates the striking similarity between the historical world view of the historical Pharisees and the Tannaitic Sages. (ii) Immortality of the soul: According to Josephus and the New Testament, the Pharisees are characterized as those who believed in the immortality of the soul after death, as opposed to the Sadducees who denied it (Josephus, Jewish War II, 8.14, 162–166;11 Acts 23.8). This view is confirmed by the following statement in Abot de Rabbi Natan: Sadducees say: “The Pharisees have a tradition that they inflict suffering upon themselves in this world, and in the world to come they have nothing” (ARN/A 5).

According to the above tradition, the world view of the Sadducees, who deny the belief in the world to come, stands in contrast to the world view of the Pharisees, which is identical to the world view of the Sages. 11

Josephus writes: “They believe that souls have power to survive death and that there are rewards and punishments under the earth for those who have led lives of virtue or vice: eternal imprisonment is the lot of evil souls, while the good souls receive an easy passage to a new life” (Josephus, Ant. XVIII, 1.3, 42–43). 109

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Moreover, the notion that the Sages share an identical world view with the Pharisees is further attested in the halakhah below: All Israel have a portion in the world to come … And these are those who have no portion in the world to come … He who says, the resurrection of the dead is not [a teaching derived] from the Torah (m. Sanhedrin 10.1; cf. t. Sanhedrin 13.3; t. Berakhot 6.25; t. Sotah 3.18).

The above halakhah clearly implies that the Tannaitic Sages share a similar world view to that of the Pharisees. The examination conducted so far clearly indicates that although the Tannaitic Sages do not call themselves Pharisees, they certainly share common dialectical features and a world view with the historical Pharisees. If the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages, as my examination clearly indicates, why did they not refer to themselves as such? Earlier it was suggested by S. J. D. Cohen (1984) that the Sages did not address themselves as Pharisees in order to “minimize sectarian self-identification” with the Pharisaic sect. Our next examination is to explore whether the Pharisees conceived of themselves or behaved as a sect. Were the Pharisees a sect? When I proceed to discuss the issue of whether the Pharisees were a sect, I cannot overlook the methodological difficulty involved in the use of the term sect by modern scholars. There is a substantial number of scholars who subscribe to the point of view that the group of Pharisees were a sect in line with other contemporary groups of the Second Temple period, such as the Sadducees, Qumran, the early Christians, and the followers of Bannus. (cf. Neusner 1973b: 83–90; S. J. D. Cohen 1984; Baumgarten 1998; Regev 2002). Nevertheless, the use of the term by these scholars raises some serious questions. Scholars offer different definitions of the concept. Scholars of our period follow to a great extent the theory of sects proposed by the sociologist of religion, Wilson, but place different emphasis on his hypothesis when applying it to the group of the Pharisees and other contemporary groups (Wilson 1967; 1973). For the sake of convenience, I will first present some of the assumptions within Wilson’s theory, and thereafter some of the evidence that suggests that the Pharisees were a sect. The definition of sect according to Wilson According to Wilson (1967), a sect is defined in relation to the world. The separation of a sect, he argues, is a result of a tension between the ideological and doctrinal dispositions of the sect and the wider society. It should be noted that Wilson’s typology of sectarian movements follows from empirical investigation anchored in the framework of Protestant Christianity. In view of that, each sect 110

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responds differently to the world and he categorized the different responses of the sects into 7 typologies, only two of which will be dealt with later in this chapter, namely the introversionists and the reformists.12 Wilson explains that the separation or the isolation of a sect from the wider society is a result of a conflict of values between the sect and the wider society. All type-constructs of sects, according to Wilson, remain at the fringe of society and act accordingly. He writes: “The sect must see itself as marginal to the wider society” (Wilson 1967:4; cf. Sanders 1990).13 Wilson gives an example of how the separation of the sect from a wider society is expressed: “The sect’s desire to be separate from the world and its concerns … The typical issues of this conflict of values include … withdrawal of the sect from the political arrangements of society, refusal to vote, to salute national emblems, and the like … the refusal to recognize the marital and familial regulations imposed by the state” (Wilson 1967:39–40). The idea within Wilson’s theory, as will be shown below, has no doubt created a theoretical framework for some scholars who subscribe to the point of view that the Pharisees were a sect. As a preliminary conclusion, I would at this point state that Wilson’s definition of sect is only partially applicable to Jewish society of the period, as will be explained shortly. Pharisees as a sect according to scholars Several scholars regard the Pharisees as a sect in terms of soteriological exclusivism, meaning that only one group will be saved in the world to come. In other words, they alone are entitled to be called “the true Israel.” Each sect has a different interpretation of the law (especially rules of tithes and purity), which in turn has a distinct consequence on the sect’s lifestyle and worship (cf. Jeremias 1969:259; Buchanan in Sanders 1977:425, n. 14; Neusner 1973b:83–90; S. J. D. Cohen 1984). S. J. D. Cohen partially follows Wilson’s definition of a sect and applies it to the group of the Pharisees. Cohen lists different characteristics of a sect: a sect must be organized; it must have membership requirements, authority figures, and various regulations; it must be separate from the majority either physically or ideologically; and the members must claim an exclusive possession of the truth (S. J. D. Cohen 1984).14 12

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14

The complete list is: (i) the conversionist, (ii) the revolutionist, (iii) the introversionist; (iv) the manipulationist, (v) the thaumaturgical, (vi) the reformist, and (vii) the utopian. (For a detailed explanation of the different classifications see Wilson 1973:18–26.) Sanders reaches the same conclusion about the implication of the term sect. He writes in his own words: “We should reserve the word ‘sect’ for a group which was to an appreciable degree cut off from mainline society” (Sanders 1990:241). Wilson writes, for example, that: “All sects are more or less similar in organization, ideology, social composition, communal character and circumstance of origin” (Wilson 1967:3). 111

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Baumgarten, on the other hand, follows Wilson’s typology of sectarian movements. Wilson’s empirical investigation of sectarian movement is within the framework of Protestant Christianity. Hence, one has to exercise caution when applying Wilson’s concept of sect to non-Protestant society. Baumgarten borrows two of Wilson’s categories of sects, namely, the reformist and the introversionist, and applies them to Jewish groups. He defines reformist sects, as those who: “believed that the Jews outside their boundaries were still worth the effort of trying to save, and treated those Jews accordingly” (Baumgarten 1998:390). The Pharisees in this instance were a classical reformist sect, whereas the introversionist sects gave up on other Jews and lived in separate communities, like the groups of Qumran, Bannus, and the Essenes. The evidence suggesting that the group of the Pharisees was a sect raises some problems which I will investigate: (i) When scholars apply Wilson’s definition of sect to ancient Israeli society, they disregard the fact that the sectarian movements discussed by Wilson and others are mainly religious Protestant sects operating within a social structure, which in fact intensifies the hostility between the sect and the secular world, as already indicated. Whereas all Jewish groups of our period operated within a social structure which was religious and traditional. This is not to deny the hostility which existed between the Jewish group and the wider Jewish society, but it surely gives another dimension to the entire topic, as we shall see later. In short, if one accepts Wilson’s definition of sect, there could be no sect of any kind in ancient Israel, since secularism was not part of that society. (ii) The group of the Pharisees did not claim exclusive possession of the truth as did the Qumran and the early Christians, nor do we see any evidence in the writings of Josephus, the New Testament, or the Tannaitic literature that the group of the Pharisees had exclusive access to salvation.15 Sanders has already pointed out the group of the Pharisees were preoccupied with legal discussions and not with exclusive possession of the truth. He writes that “the pharisaic traditions to which we have access are legal discussions, not soteriological. We can not infer soteriological exclusiveness” (Sanders 1990:242). (iii) Some of the features listed by Wilson as characteristic of a sect, like organization, membership requirements, authority figures, various regulations, and ideology, are too general and can be applied to all groups, as is shown throughout this monograph. 15

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In the New Testament, salvation occurs exclusively through Jesus: “No one can come to the father except through me” (John 14.6), and those who are to be saved must first be baptized and receive the holy spirit. Accordingly, it is not enough to be born a Jew. We find a similar idea in Qumran concerning the sons of light and the sons of darkness, where salvation awaits only those who are the members of Qumran.

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(iv) Baumgarten’s suggestion that the Pharisees were a sect (whether reformist or not) stands in contrast to Wilson’s main definition of a sect. According to Wilson, a sect perceives itself as marginal to the wider society and withdraws from the social and political center. Are we then to assume that the group of the Pharisees perceived themselves as a sect or acted like one? Did Gamaliel the Elder, Hillel, and other authority figures within the Jewish leadership perceive themselves as belonging to a sect? The inevitable answer which emerges from the literary evidence is no. Furthermore, if we continue to use the concept of sect as an analytical tool, we must be aware that the definition of sect does not have a consensus amongst all scholars. Finally, when I deal with an analytical concept of sect in the next section, I prefer to do so in a rather strict sense, mindful of one of the hallmarks mentioned by Wilson, namely that a sect exists at the social margins of mainstream society. I will demonstrate in a moment that the social category Pharisees is best described as a dominant group, politically and religiously active in Jewish society. In conclusion, first, there was no native concept whatsoever of a sect in ancient Jewish society. Mason’s (1991) examination indicates that even when Josephus defines the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes as hairesis (cf. Josephus, Ant. XIII, 5.9, 171; ibid. War II, 8.2, 119), the term cannot refer to any deviance or “sectarianism” as some scholars suggest, but denotes a philosophical school. Mason further argues that this term was commonly used in the Hellenistic world (for a detailed discussion and bibliography see Mason 1991:125–128). The social category Pharisees — a sect or an elite group? There are several reasons why the group of the Pharisees is best defined as a dominant group or a political party rather than a sect: Sanders has pointed out that if one measures “sectarianism” according to the criterion of closeness and distance from the social center, then the term is to be rejected (Sanders 1990: 236–254). His idea coincides with scholarly investigation, which shows that the historical Pharisees eschewed social separatism. The Pharisees were active in the social and political arena and were close to the center in Jerusalem. In fact, they were the governing elite among other elite groups and played a dominant role in the power struggle in the political and national arena; they competed and cooperated with other elements in the ruling class, namely the high priesthood, the ordinary priesthood, and the prominent families. The Pharisees shared power with the other elements in the aristocracy. They participated in the Sanhedrin, Temple, and high priesthood. In addition, they exerted influence to various degrees on the public in different social locations (Alon 1989:22–24, 92–94, 187–192; Levine 1981; Mason 1991; Sanders 1990). Moreover, during the Maccabean period, the group of the Pharisees appears to have already been operating as a political party in opposition to the group of the Sadducees, as 113

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recounted by Josephus (Levine 1981; Saldarini 1988). They also figure as a party with varying political opinions. Alon, for example, distinguished three types of parties within the group of the Pharisees during the great Jewish revolt: (i) The Pharisees-Zealots who sought opposition and confrontation with the Roman empire. (ii) The moderates — who eventually realized that they could not gain their independence by fighting against the Romans, and thus accepted their political sovereignty and collaborated with them. (iii) The peace makers — who believed that the best way to ensure the survival of the Jewish minority would be by cooperating closely with the Roman administrators (Alon 1989:92–94). My sources, in other words, indicate that the Pharisees conceived of themselves and acted as a privileged group, influencing the current policy of their own society in several political arenas. The above investigation leads me to conclude that Wilson’s definition of sect is not applicable to the Jewish society of the period, since his concept of sect presupposes a secular society. Moreover, the notion that all Jewish groups of the Second Temple period were sects is to be rejected, whatever definition of sect we employ. Finally, the concept of sect in general is inadequate to describe the spectrum of the social phenomena of Jewish movements of our period, and in particular the social category Pharisees. The investigation reveals that although the Tannaitic Sages do not call themselves Pharisees, there is a strong inherent connection between the historical Pharisees and the Tannaitic Sages, in the sense that certain elements within the diacritical features and world view of the Pharisees are present in the world of the Sages. From the above observation, I conclude that the historical Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages. However, it is difficult to determine to what extent these two groups were identical. My examination further demonstrates that the usage of the term sect is inadequate to describe the social category Pharisees. The Pharisees are best defined as a dominant group close to the center of religious and political power and similar to the group of the Tannaitic Sages, as will be demonstrated in the following chapters.

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THE COMPOSITION OF THE TANNAITIC SAGES

There is a consensus among scholars that the group of the Sages was not a homogeneous group in many respects. They had, for instance, different political views; in both Jewish revolts (the First Jewish Revolt and the BarKokhba Revolt) there were those within the group of the Sages who sought to a varying degree either confrontation or cooperation with the Roman empire (Alon 1989; Levine 1981; Ben-Shalom 1993). Moreover, the Tannaitic literature portrays the Sages as a group who share a wide spectrum of beliefs, ideologies, practices, lifestyle, and unresolved competing views (cf. Levine 1989:194–195). The culture of disputation is often conveyed in a dialectical tension expressed in numerous halakhic discussions involving different topics and spheres (cf. Boyarin 1993:1–30). Moreover, the phenomenon of in-group conflict as it appears in the Talmudic literature already existed during the days of the first pairs and lasted until the latest Amoraitic Sages (S. Safrai 1997). Nevertheless, despite the numerous halakhic disputes conducted in the Talmudic literature,16 the Sages were able to “suppress” these conflicts and to present to themselves and others a picture of a group capable of embracing a pluralism of opinions and of resolving these polemics in a way that would satisfy all members of the group (cf. Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2002). In the next section, one case study will be examined with respect to the process of conflict and its resolution in its natural setting, namely, the inner tension between the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch.

16

For example, the conflict between representatives of the school of Shammai and the school of Hillel, whose remarkable record of clashes accounts for over 300 cases. There is, however, a scholarly consensus that the core of the conflict is ideological. The House of Hillel represented the anthropocentric approach whereas the House of Shammai the theocentric. (For the nature of these disputes and sources see Neusner 1973a:185–303; Ben-Shalom 1993:76–103, 247–249, 252–272.) 115

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The socio-economic background of the members of the group The evidence regarding the socio-economic background and the occupations of the Sages during the Tannaitic period is relatively scarce, and our information is often obtained serependitiously. At first glance, it seems that the Sages came from different socio-economic backgrounds and that many of them practiced other occupations besides Torah study. I may deduce that the Sages who came from a priestly family or belonged to the Patriarchal house or other well-connected families, were wealthy and held high positions in Jewish society. This notion is further supported by the fact that the sources testify to their wealth, such as: Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai (Sifre Deuteronomy 357); Rabban Gamaliel II (m. Berakhot 2.5–7; m. Demai 3.1; m. Baba Mesia 5.8 and others). We know of Sages from a priestly background who were wealthy, such as R. Elazar ben Azariah, Eliezer ben Horcanos, R. Tarfon (cf. Ben-Shalom 1985; Beer 1964). On the other hand, there were also members from a lower socio-economic background, such as farmers, who struggled economically, e.g. R. Johanan ben Nuri, who used to go out at the end of the harvest period together with the poor in order to gather gleanings to support himself during the entire year (j. Peah 8.1, 20d), or R. Aqiba, who was considered poor and only at the end of his days became rich (ARN/A 6; cf. b. Ketubot 62b–63a; b. Shabbat 127b). It should be emphasized that the sources about Sages who were poor and struggling to make a living are scarce. This leads me to conclude that most of the Tannaitic Sages came from a relatively high socio-economic background. The size of the group of Tannaitic Sages and their place of residence Generally speaking, the number of Talmudic Sages (this includes the Palestinian and Babylonian Sages) has been a matter of speculation among various scholars, who reached different conclusions; the radical maximalists, for example, contended that there were 3400 Sages, whereas the minimalists argued that the total of number of the Talmudic Sages was about 761. (For scholarly suggestions, see Levine 1989:66–69.) Moreover, the latest examination of Rosenfeld (1998) is worth noting. Rosenfeld correlates between the identity of Sages and their activities in the Galilee settlements during the period of the Mishna and Talmud. Rosenfeld makes the following observations: (i) During the Tannaitic and Amoraitic period the Sages lived and were active mainly in rural settlements; they were active in sixty-four rural settlements and two large cities: Sepphoris and Tiberias. (ii) During the five generations of the Tannaitic period, thirty-two Sages were identified (and another five whose identity is doubtful), who were active in twenty-five settlements (another three are doubtful). In the large city of Sepphoris there were six and in Tiberias three. 116

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(iii) In a settlement where the Sage was active together with his Disciples (approximately 8–10 in number) there was a study center and probably a court house where the Sage also functioned as a judge (cf. Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 1997). However, when he died or decided to leave, the settlement ceased to be reckoned as a study center. The implications of the above observations further strengthen my theory, namely that the Tannaitic Sages conceived of themselves as an elite group and acted accordingly, with respect to its size and activity: if we assume that the group, including the Disciples of the Sages and the Haverim (their identity is discussed in chapter 4, pp. 225–231), comprised no more the 400 persons, this confirms the idea that the relatively small size of the group enabled them to operate as an organized privileged minority against a diverse majority (cf. Mosca 1939 in chapter 3, pp. 219–222). It also verifies the assumption that an elite group that seeks to gain political influence will achieve it through an ongoing interdependence with the common people. The fact that the majority of the Sages lived and were active in these settlements, no doubt enabled them to have direct interactions with the people on different levels of communication, and thus to achieve greater political and religious influence. (These aspects and others will be elaborately examined in chapter 3, pp. 198–218.)

Was the group of the Sages an open group? Throughout Tannaitic literature the Sages are portrayed as an open group with respect to social mobility. The self-image of the Sages, however, is articulated in two, intimately interconnected aspects; I will present them briefly. 1. Intellectual achievement based on Torah study is open to all One of the dominant features that enabled the group to portray itself as an open group was the idea that Torah study was open to every male who wished to acquire high education, regardless of his position in the social stratification. My examination reveals that the Sages did encourage students from an inferior socio-economic background to obtain a higher education, but in reality, studying at the academy was restricted to the privileged. As we shall see later, there were several social mechanisms in play which blocked the access of the common people to social mobility through academic achievement. 2. Group membership is dependent on intellectual achievement, not on family attribution My examination has so far revealed that the group of the Priests was considered a relatively closed group. Membership was defined by attributed status in accordance with the Jewish stratification (m. Qiddushin 4.1). In other 117

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words, a person could become a Priest only if he was a male born into a priestly family. Whereas women from other social categories, i.e. Levites and Israelites, could marry into the priesthood but they had to come from attributed families. Thus, social mobility within the stratification of the Priests did exist, but was conditional on family attribution. Unlike the class of the Priests, the Tannaitic Sages professed to be an open group; membership was not restricted to family attribution but was open to all males within the Jewish social stratification. In other words, the criterion was based on personal achievement and not on family attribution. In principle, even a Mamzer who was at the bottom of the social stratification could become a Disciple of a Sage (cf. m. Horayot 3.8). The question to what extent the Tannaitic Sages were actually an open group will be elaborately examined throughout this monograph. (See especially chapter 6.) However, at face value it seems that the Tannaitic Sages were a relatively open group in the sense that they allowed members from other social categories and from different socio-economic backgrounds to join them. Our sources testify to two relevant social categories that became members of the group, namely ‘Am ha’aretz and the group of the Priests. Sages with ‘Am ha’aretz background Tannaitic sources indicate that there were members among the Sages who came from ‘Am ha’aretz background (t. Demai 2.15–16; ibid. 3.5; Midrash Tannaim 33.4). The halakhot in Tosefta Demai which deal with the issue of a Haver (a subcategory of the Sages) who becomes a member of the association and whose family is considered as belonging to ‘Am ha’aretz background are indeed few, yet they are important. First, they indicate that this social phenomenon existed, although we don’t know to what extent. I can only assume that there were enough of these cases to require the group of the Sages to formulate a general statement to apply to other related instances. Moreover, there are a few “mythical” narratives about the Tannaitic Sages from ‘Am ha’aretz background, such as R. Eliezer and R. Aqiba (cf. ARN/A 6); however, these stories reinforce the notion that this phenomenon was relatively exceptional. Second, as we shall see later, they testify to an existing socio-religious conflict and negotiation; how to maintain group boundaries and at the same time to find legitimate channels which enable inter-group interaction. (The issue will be discussed in detail in chapter 4, pp. 247–249.) Sages with priestly background Büchler (1966) was the first to point out that the number of Priests among the Sages was high in the late Second Temple period. Trifon, following Büchler, lists prominent figures among the group of the Sages who were Priests 118

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(Trifon 1985).17 Moreover, S. Safrai and Z. Safrai (in print) argue that 15–20 per cent of the Tannaitic Sages known to us were Priests, and there are others who are not identified as Priests. The high concentration of Priests among the group of the Sages reinforces the notion that the status of the Priests was dominant in Jewish society. In addition, they state that the influence of the Sages who came from a priestly background had its impact in the period of Jabneh. The sources states that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, for example, who was himself a Priest, had five Disciples, three of whom were Priests, namely R. Eliezer ben Horcanos, R. Yosi the Priest, and Simeon ben Natanel; R. Joshua ben Hananiah was a Levite. The attribution, however, of the last Disciple, R. Elazar ben Arach, is uncertain (m. Abot 2.8). (This includes the period before and after the destruction of the Temple.) In addition, the sources reveal that some of the leading Sages came from a priestly background: R. Dosa ben Harkinas, R. Yehudah the Priest (m. Eduyyot 8.2), R. Yossi the Priest (m. Abot 2.8), R. Zechariah the son of the butcher (m. Ketubot 2.9; m. Eduyyot 8.2) (Büchler 1966:9–19; Trifon 1985:5). In the period of Jabneh, this phenomenon continues to exist; we hear about Johanan ben Zakkai, Elazar ben Azariah, R. Tarfon, and Elazar the Priest who had a leading role in the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (S. Safrai 1994a:346). This basic assumption that a considerable number of Priests constituted the group of the Sages, opens up several suggestions and leads us to new questions. I suggest that one of the reasons that the Mishna discusses to a certain degree the work of the Priests and Levites, e.g. the laws of purity and impurity, the Temple service and its organization, family attribution, and marital rules, is that a considerable number of Sages came from a priestly background. (This will be discussed shortly.) Moreover, it is possible that Sages from a priestly background could provide tacit knowledge that was exclusively restricted to the class of the Priests and in this way, to a certain extent they could transform tacit knowledge to open knowledge in Jewish society.

Did the Sages constitute an opposition to the class of the Priests? One of the most perplexing questions is whether we can state in the first place that the group of the Sages constituted an oppositional group to the class of the Priests, when we know that 15–20 percent of their members came from a priestly background. 17

Her list, however, is taken both from Tannaitic and Talmudic sources. 119

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Two important observations will be made: (a) The Sages generated a social identity that was distinguished from the class of the Priests; (b) With the help of various theories from social anthropology, social psychology, and political sociology, possible strategic behaviors of individuals moving from one group to another in the presence of group boundaries. The social identity of the Sages as distinguished from the class of the Priests As we shall see in the following, there is a clear awareness of the existence of the class of the Priests as significant others in the consciousness of the group of the Sages, which comes to expression in several aspects in the Tannaitic literature. Since this issue is discussed throughout this monograph, for the sake of convenience, I will mention briefly some of the factors that strengthen my point of view: (i) The Sages never identify themselves as “Priests” in the first person plural; the term is rather used in the third person plural (cf. chapter 2, pp. 31–32). The members with priestly background are always identified with the title Rabbi, Rabban, Disciple of a Sage, or Haver, but not as a Priest, such as R. Tarfon or R. Dosa. (Some of the list is mentioned below.) Moreover, the Sages with priestly background do not normally designate themselves with the title Priests, and the information about their identity as Priests can be inferred only indirectly from the sources. (ii) The world of the Priests is reflected in the Mishna, i.e. the genealogy of the priestly class, their marital rights and duties, their obligations and rights regarding the Temple and its cult, the rules regarding the priestly gifts, collecting and eating their food in a state of ritual purity. In light of the above, it is perplexing that in the entire corpus of the Mishna there is a lack of group consciousness of the Priests as we find it in the book of Leviticus (cf. chapter 2, pp. 21–23). A similar view is shared by Neusner: And yet in the fundamental structure of the document, its organization into divisions and tractates, there is no place for a Division of the Priesthood, no room even for a complete tractate on the rules of the priesthood … This absence of sustained attention to the priesthood is striking when we compare the way in which the priestly code in Lev. 1–15 spells out its concerns: the Priesthood, the cult and matter of cultic cleanness. Since we have Divisions for the cult and for cleanness at Holy things and Purities, we are struck that we do not have this Third Division (Neusner 1981:233–234).

(iii) In the process of constructing their historical identity as a social group, the Sages never mention the social category Priests nor do they identify with them, as testified in Mishna Abot tractate 1.1; on the contrary, they eliminate 120

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the social category Priests from the historical list of those who were responsible for transmitting the law and replace them with the prophets (cf. chapter 3, pp. 126–140). (iv) When portraying their self-image as a social group, the Sages consciously distinguish themselves from the “world ideology” of the Priests and offer an alternative world view of their own, which is heavily based on the value of Torah study. (For extensive discussion see chapter 3, pp. 159–162.) (v) In the process of inter-group interactions with other social categories, the group of the Priests is always presented as significant others. In these specific interactions, as I will examine later, the Priests are either being confronted, recognized, or imitated. In other words, the group of the Priests seems to play a considerable role in the process of generating the social identity of the Sages, in the sense that the group of the Priests as a social category is compared consciously or unconsciously with the group of the Sages, as important others. (This issue will be elaborately discussed in chapter 5.) In view of the above, the present writer strongly subscribes to the point of view that the group of the Sages constituted a social identity that was consciously distinguished from the social identity of the group of the Priests. Still, the enigma I presented earlier is not solved. The theories I am about to present may explain in part why members of the group of the Priests who were defined and consensually accepted as a superior group in Jewish society would change group membership and become members of a group that was considered an opponent group.

Social mobility of individuals despite group boundaries Social anthropology: The flow of group membership in the presence of group boundary Based on a number of fieldworks, the social anthropologist Barth (1969) has pointed out that while cultural boundaries are maintained by different social groups, members are allowed to change their “group membership.” Barth maintains that the nature of identity is always dynamic, ever changing, fluid, contextual, and negotiable. He stresses that despite the fact that collective identity can undergo a change over time, it allows its members to move in and out: “Boundaries persist despite a flow of personnel across them … social processes of exclusion and incorporation whereby discrete categories are maintained despite changing participation and membership in the course of individual life histories” (ibid. 9–10). Applying Barth’s accommodating theory to our context, I suggest that members of the class of the Priests joined the group of the Sages despite the 121

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fact that each group maintained its group boundary,18 the sources mention numerous incidents where Priests changed their participation and joined the group of the Sages.19 One possible psychological consequence that one may predict regarding the social identity of these Priests is the formation of a hybrid identity. Hybrid identity If I apply Barth’s theory to the present fieldwork, it is possible to deduce that the Priests who joined the group of the Sages as individuals had a hybrid identity, i.e. they belonged both to the world of the Priests and the of Sages. However, their distinct identity as either Priests or Sages was expressed in different social locations depending on the specific interactions; e.g. the Priests could maintain a lifestyle characteristic of the Priests, such as living in ritual purity and receiving heave-offerings, and at the same time could live according to the world view of the Sages. Social psychology: Social mobility of individuals from one social position to another Despite important differences in terminology and theoretical framework, the social psychologist Tajfel (1974) reaches a similar conclusion. However, while Barth’s emphasis is the preservation of cultural boundaries despite the flow of personnel across them, Tajfel’s main concern is to explore various possible behavioral strategies that motivate individuals, whether they belong to the “inferior” or “superior” group, to change group membership. Within Tajfel’s social identity theory (1974; 1978 especially 86–97) there is an attempt to explain why members who belong to the dominant group may leave their group. The theory is based on several preliminary propositions: (i) Individuals are motivated to belong to a positively evaluated group. (ii) Through the process of intergroup comparisons, individuals will assess their own group as having either an adequate or inadequate form of social identity. (iii) There are several possible behavioral strategies that might be adopted when the individual perceives his or her own group as inadequately evaluated. These behaviors can be divided into two basic categories: “social change” and “social mobility.” The former refers to situations in which the individual acts in 18

19

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Nevertheless, as suggested above, group mobility is a one-way street; we never hear, directly or indirectly about the other way around, namely that a Sage becomes a Priest. Josephus and Tannaitic sources mention several Priests who were members of the group of the Pharisees.

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terms of his group membership, whereas the latter refers to situations in which the individual acts mainly as an individual, regardless of his group membership. It is the latter category that deserves our attention. Individual social mobility Individual social mobility refers to the movement of individuals from one group to another, whether they are defined and consensually accepted as belonging to the inferior or superior group. This can happen on condition that individuals see this path as open and legitimate for them. This idea is explained by Tajfel and Turner in the following: “If they are not satisfied, for whatever reason, with the conditions imposed upon their lives by membership in social groups or social categories to which they belong, it is possible for them (be it through talent, hard work, good luck, or whatever other means) to move individually into another group which suits them better” (Tajfel and Turner 1979:35). One of the questions that social identity theory attempts to answer is under what conditions members who are defined and consensually accepted as belonging to the “superior” group in the social system will leave their group. Tajfel (1974) theorizes that one of the major psychological conditions inbuilt in leaving one’s group is when “conflicts of values” are intensified. When members of the superior group perceive the ideology of their own group as based on various praxis of social exploitation, illegitimate use of force, discrimination, or silencing the inferior group, it diminishes the contribution to positively valued social identity that the social group provides. There are two possible behavioral outcomes: (a) group membership is canceled, (b) members of the dominant group join the inferior group. In the case of the latter behavioral outcome, the “renegades” become some of the most radical members of the inferior group or the opposite group, and generate a new “ideology” which is positively distinguished from the superior group. Tajfel’s hypothesis is attractive; it invokes the story of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, a prominent leader of the Tannaitic Sages, who came from a priestly background and had several confrontations with the group of the Priests. These conflicts, as suggested by scholars, were often based on opposing ideological and socio-cultural conventions practiced by the Priests. (For a detailed examination of the reformation of Johanan ben Zakkai see Alon 1989:86–118; S. Safrai 1994a; the reformation of Johanan ben Zakkai is discussed in chapter 3, pp. 222–223.) Moreover, I suggest that his critique implied that the class of the Priests legitimized their own use of cultural symbolic resources (i.e. conceptual religious distinctions, cultural traditions, and institutionalized social conventions) in order to monopolize cultural privileges, thus reproducing inequality and class boundaries (cf. Bourdieu 1977; 1984 about class distinction). 123

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Applying Tajfel’s theory, I suggest that the socio-religious reformation of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai was a result of an intensified conflict of values with his own class. The notion of ideological conflict brings us to my next theory, which implies that the Sages with priestly background were paving an alternative path due to ideological disagreement within the class of the Priests. Political sociology: The constitution of an alternative path in the face of ideological crisis If we accept the basic axiom that the group of the Sages constituted an opposition to the dominant group, namely the group of Priests, the inevitable question is how can we explain the peculiar phenomenon that members of the group of the Priests joined their “rival” group, namely the group of the Sages? Moreover, who were these Priests? Were they merely lay Priests who constituted an opposition against the high priesthood in Jerusalem in order to gain political power? The suggestion that some of the lay Priests joined the group of the Sages and established an opposition in order to build a new path or an alternative to the existing hegemony in Jerusalem is based on the analogy of the Czech political theorist Hroch (1994). Hroch observed that during the national movement in the nineteenth century in central and eastern Europe, the sons of aristocrats lost their natural rights of inheritance and were therefore seeking an alternative by involving themselves in the national movement. In this way they could break the older structure and at the same time advance their socio-political interests in the social hierarchy of their own society. Although Hroch’s analogy is most fascinating, it is doubtful whether the lay Priests within the class of the Priests would join the group of the Sages in order to build an opposition. The sources testify that some of those Priests who held high positions within the ranks of the Sages came from the upper stratum within the class of the Priests; some of them came from wealthy and prominent families, e.g. R. Tarfon (t. Hagigah 3.33; cf. b. Nedarim 62a); R. Eliezer ben Horcanos (t. Maaser Sheni 5.16; cf. b. Sanhedrin 68a; b. Berakhot 16b); R. Elazar ben Azariah and R. Elazar ben Harsom (m. Sotah 9.15; b. Qiddushin 49b; b. Berakhot 57b; cf. Libermann 1995, Tosefta Ki-fshutah VIII, 762). Moreover, there were other Priests who held high positions in the Temple, such as Joshua ben Gamla and Ishmael ben Phiabi, who were appointed as High Priests (cf. m. Yebamot 6.4; m. Sotah 9:15), R. Ananias who was appointed captain of the Temple (m. Sheqalim 4.4), and others who had senior positions in the Temple (cf. Urbach 1975:581).20 20

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Urbach wrote “There were to be found High Priests who were themselves Sages, or at least Disciples of the Sages” (1975:581).

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Nevertheless, it is possible that these Priests were motivated to leave the group for other reasons. The Tannaitic sources are silent on this matter; however, Josephus indicates that among the earlier Priests (Sadducees) there was friction within the group, which he doesn’t specify: “The Sadducees, in contrast [to the Pharisees, who are affectionate to each other] are even among themselves, rather boorish in their behavior, and in their intercourse with their peers are as rude as to aliens” (Josephus, Jewish War II, 8.14, 164–166). Josephus does not specify the reasons for the friction within the group. Nevertheless, it designates an in-group conflict which may have caused certain members within the class of the Priests to join the group of the Sages and resist the cultural hegemony of the class of the Priests, thus giving themselves the authority to play a decisive role in the social production of their own society. In view of this, I suggest that by joining the group of the Sages, these Priests, together with members from non-priestly backgrounds, could establish a counter-hegemony whereby they could pave an alternative path to the dominant culture with respect to traditions, hegemony, widespread conventions, existing social order, world view, ideology, values, norms, etc. It should be emphasized that the above theories are mere suggestions whose task is to stimulate our curiosity, widen the horizon, and make us realize that there is more than meets the eye. The enigma still remains and hopefully it doesn’t deter us from the quest of seeking the identity of the Sages!

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THE POLITICS OF HISTORICAL CONSTRUCTION OF THE TANNAITIC SAGES

Our past does not present itself to us in ready-made packages that we may utilize to establish our personal identity or group identity. By necessity, we must pick and choose elements of our past that strengthen our sense of continuity. Other elements are better forgotten, since selecting them would undermine our project of identity management. This memory process is clearly a complex process, in which the selection of apt elements resembles the process of constructing and presenting a collection of family photos with a dual purpose in mind: to establish and strengthen one’s own identity and to present an apt picture of one’s past to relevant others. If important others accept our selection, our sense of continuity is strengthened. Moreover, the elements we choose are not objective facts that we combine in a subjective way. For the most part we have no direct access to relevant elements of our past. Frequently, no written records or other artifacts exist, and when they do exist, they are open to multiple readings. Hence, establishing our past is a process which involves constructing our past in several senses. Constructing the past as an act of self-identification The Sages were well aware of other competing traditional leading social categories, i.e. Priests, kings, and members of the aristocracy who constituted the cultural hegemony of Jewish society during the late Second Temple period. Moreover, their past, which is well attested in the hegemonic narrative of Jewish history, enabled them to claim their rights to leadership within the Jewish institution (cf. Goodman 1983:93–135; Levine 1989:194). Unlike the Priests, kings, and members of the aristocracy, the Tannaitic Sages lacked this basic recognition, and in order to legitimize their position as an authoritative elite group they had to “invent” a distant past portraying, for themselves and others, an apposite picture of their common historical identity and cultural origin, sometimes even extending as far back as Abraham. In the following, I will present several social mechanisms which contribute to the politics of constructing a collective past and examine my findings accordingly. 126

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Collective memory and the dialectic between forgetting and remembering The construction of historical identity is based on a basic premise of social theorists that states that the process of generating group identity must also involve a notion of sameness and continuity through time. Moreover, the construction of cultural continuity contributes to the configuration and authenticity of the group in its present time, portraying it as a unified group moving through history without interruption in time (cf. Herzfeld 1987; Friedman 1994). The French sociologist Halbwachs was the first to propose the theory of “collective memory” and to discuss it systematically. His main arguments are: (i) Collective memory is fundamentally a “reconstruction of the past,” whether it is based on real evenemental history or on invented tradition, culture, or history (Halbwachs in B. Schwartz 1982:376). (ii) Collective memory is used primarily to meet the current needs of the given group and solve its problems: “If, as we believe, collective memory is essentially a reconstruction of the past, if it adapts the image of ancient facts to the beliefs and spiritual needs of the present, then a knowledge of the origin of these facts must be secondary if not altogether useless, for the reality of the past is no longer in the past” (Halbwachs in B. Schwartz 1982:376). Independently of Halbwachs’s notion, the sociologist and social psychologist Mead developed a similar idea. According to Mead, “symbolically reconstructed past” is a past interpreted from the standpoint of the immediate situation, experiences, and problems of the social group. For Mead, all history by definition is an interpretation of the present21: “History serves a community in the same way as memory does the individual. A person has to bring up a certain portion of the past to determine what his present is, and in the same way the community wants to bring up the past so it can state the present situation and bring out what the actual issues themselves are” (Mead 1938:80–81; cf. idem 1929; Maines and Sugrue and Katovitch 1983).22 Zerubavel further elaborates the idea of collective memory and adds that the power of collective memory does not lie in the articulation of correct and systematic “mapping of the past,” but in the generation of distinct imageries which consciously express and highlight a particular ideological point of view (Zerubavel 1995). 21

22

It is interesting to note that numerous anthropological fieldworks confirm the above idea; that social groups seek to interpret their particular past for its purposes in the present (cf. Herzfeld 1987; Friedman 1994; Van Der Veer 1992 and others). For elaborated discussion comparing Halbwachs’ and Mead’s theories see Schwartz and Zerubavel and Barnett 1986. 127

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The above implies that members of the group can select certain epochs that underline crucial episodes in the group’s development, and at the same time they may omit other periods regarded as unimportant for the group’s formation. For both individuals and groups, striving towards a sense of continuity, or selfsameness, must necessarily involve two interrelated processes of memorizing and forgetting (cf. Herzfeld 1987; Friedman 1994; Yerushalmi 1982; Funkenstein 1991; Zerubavel 1995).

The construction of collective memory by the group of the Sages In the subsequent section, I will examine the various processes involved in the formation of the Sages’ self-presentation of their historical origin and world view. Our point of departure is tractate Abot (known as the Traditions of the Fathers) chapter one, on which my examination relies heavily. Moses received the law from Sinai and handed it down to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets and the prophets handed it down to the men of the Great Assembly … (Abot 1.1) Simeon the Just was one of the last survivors of the Great Assembly … (ibid. 1.2) Antigonus of Socho received [the tradition] from Simeon the Just … (ibid. 1.3) Yossi ben Yoezer of Zeredah and Yossi ben Johanan of Jerusalem received [the tradition] from them. (ibid. 1.4) Joshua ben Perachiah and Nittai the Arbelite received [the tradition] from them … (ibid. 1.6) Yehudah ben Tabbai and Simeon ben Shetach received [the tradition] from them … (ibid. 1.8) … Shemaiah and Abtalion received [the tradition] from them … (ibid. 1.10) Hillel and Shammai received [the tradition] from them (ibid. 1.12).

The first chapter of Abot lists in chronological order prominent figures from Jewish history who were responsible for the dispensation and transmission of the tradition of the law (written and oral). As we shall see later, mapping the past is organized by a system of periodization which selects certain epochs as turning points in the group’s historical development, in order to highlight their ideological point of view (Zerubavel 1995).23 The list has three intimately interrelated objectives: (i) To demonstrate that the oral law has equivalent authority to the written law, by the fact that it was received at Mount Sinai by Moses and transmitted by prominent Jewish figures without interruption until the time of the Tannaitic Sages. 23

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Zerubavel writes that: “Drawing upon selective criteria, collective memory divides the past into major stages, reducing complex historical events to basic plot structures” (Zerubavel 1995:8).

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(ii) To show that the task of guarding and transmitting traditions of the law is deeply rooted in the group’s own consciousness and identity. (iii) To highlight a particular ideological stance, namely that they belong to the loyal elements within Israel,24 by showing that they share the same task of carrying on the tradition, the practice of the ideal life that was handed down by their forerunners, i.e. Moses, Joshua, the elders, the prophets, etc. Moreover, by placing the new canonical narrative at the beginning of tractate Abot, the Tannaitic Sages could claim for themselves exclusive possession of the oral and written law. In other words, they alone have a monopoly on the tradition of the law. The following case study further illuminates how the construction of the past is used in order to obtain power in the present with respect to a legal decision. The story involves an unresolved halakhic matter concerning agriculture. It is told about R. Simeon of Mispah who sowed two types of wheat and wished to know whether or not he could give a single peah25 for the entire field. The matter came before Rabban Gamaliel I and they went up to the hewn stone chamber (lishkat hagazit), the seat of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem, and asked about the law regarding sowing two types of wheat in the field. In order to resolve the matter, Nahum the scribe ruled as follows: I have received [the following ruling] from R. Miasha, who received [it] from his father, who received [it] from the Pairs, who received [it] from the Prophets, who [received] the law [given] to Moses on Sinai, regarding one who sows his field with two types of wheat. If he harvests [the wheat] in one lot, he designates one [portion of produce as] peah. If he harvests [the wheat] in two lots, he designates two [portions of produce as] peah (m. Peah 2.6; cf. ibid. Yadayim 4.3; ibid. Eduyyot 8.7; ibid. Abot 1.1 and 2.8).

The above narrative makes several remarkable points: According to Nahum the scribe, the agricultural case regarding two varieties of the same species 24

25

The idea that the group belongs to the faithful seed within Israel reflects a dialectical tension between two fundamental attitudes in Jewish society that was highly intensified during the period of Ezrah and Nehemiah and continued throughout the Second Temple period. The “lenient” were those who advocated openness towards cultural cooperation with neighboring societies and admitted the possibility of assimilating prominent cultural features from Greco-Roman civilization. At the same time, they appear to have had lenient attitudes with respect to the observance of Mosaic law. In the other camp were those who were loyal to God’s law and intent on observing His commandments; they were in favor of separation from foreign cultures, emphasizing meticulous observance of Mosaic law and the spreading of the knowledge and study of Torah beyond the realms of the Temple. The portion of a crop, generally the corner of the field, that must be left unharvested as a gift to the poor. 129

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had already been legislated by Moses at Sinai and transmitted to the Tannaitic Sages through the chain of transmitters. The decisive element here is that the law given to Moses at Sinai was identical with the law which is carried out by the Tannaitic Sages, because it had been transmitted faithfully by those responsible for its preservation. By presenting an imagined chain of Torah transmission, the Sages were able to legitimize their current halakhic enactments by arguing that their legal authority derives from Moses himself, according to the Jewish hegemonic narrative, the greatest authority in Jewish law. Moreover, it is interesting to note that the identification of the transmitters from the time of Moses until the pairs is identical with that in Mishnah Abot 1.1. (The issue of the pairs will be discussed below.) Furthermore, by using a linear conception of time, the Tannaitic Sages are able to portray for themselves and others, a shared past of a group whose roots go back to Moses, and at the same time show that their legal authority is derived from Moses himself. Second, through historical process to illustrate how the group developed a chain of tradition of oral law that had continued without interruption from the time of Moses to the time of the Tannaitic Sages (cf. Biale 1986:45–47). It should be expressly noted that the social category Priests, traditionally known as both guardians and teachers of the law, is absent from the list. This issue will be discussed shortly. The recruitment of past biblical figures to the group of the Sages One way by which the Sages sought to legitimize their superiority as a privileged group was by recruiting prominent figures who constituted the Jewish hegemonic narrative. The process of including them in the group is sophisticated, as we can see from the following: They [the daughters of Zelophehad] stood before Moses and Elazar the Priest … [Num. 27.2] [Said] Abba Hanin in the name of R. Eliezer: “They [Moses etc.] were sitting in the Study Hall [beit ha’midrash] and they [the daughters] came and stood before them (Sifre Numbers 133; for an analysis of the text see Rosenfeld 1997b).

Several remarkable observations can be made from the above: (i) Moses and Elazar the Priest are described as belonging to the group of the Sages. This notion is highlighted by the fact that they had to attend beit ha’midrash (the study house) just like the Tannaitic Sages. Moreover, by enlisting these past figures to the genealogy of the group, their social identity is transformed. (ii) The reference to beit ha’midrash as going back to the period of Moses is anachronistic. The study hall and the ideology it represented was indisputably 130

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a Tannaitic phenomenon. (The institution of beit ha’midrash is discussed in chapter 3, pp. 176–183.) This anachronistic tendency of the Sages is a well-known phenomenon. The Sages did not apply the Greek and Jewish principle of writing historiography like Philo, Josephus, Nicolaus of Damascus, and others (Herr 1977; 1979; cf. Josephus’s conception of historiography in Feldman 1984:117–120). Moreover, Heinemann brings to light that other past biblical figures like Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Aaron, and David, who are identified as Sages, had to obtain their Torah education through the study hall. (For a detailed examination and evidence, see Heinemann 1954:35–39.) Furthermore, not only past biblical figures are described as Sages, but also prominent Priests in the Bible, such as Jehoi’ada the High Priest (II Kings 12.2; cf. m. Sheqalim 6.6; Sifra 12.5) and Elazar the Priest (Sifre Numbers 133). This observation coincides with the general notion that unlike Josephus and Philo, the Tannaitic Sages did not integrate the historiography of the Priests and their socio-religious contribution in biblical and post-biblical periods. From the above observation, I suggest that there is a triangle of genealogy comprising three interrelated angles (a) the origin of the group, (b) the ideology of the group — the oral law, and (c) the focal institution of the group — beit ha’midrash (study house), and that all three components already coexisted in the time of Moses. This mechanism of textual transformation that I have just mentioned will be further discussed in chapter 3, pp. 136–138. The identity of the forerunners of the Sages Our next procedure is to identity the figures indicated as the forerunners of the Sages in Abot 1.1 and the ideology associated with them. Besides biblical figures, the Sages mention two categories of people as their forerunners: the Great Assembly and the pairs (Zugot). Both of these categories are represented as a link between the period of the prophets and the Tannaim. The Great Assembly It is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss the composition of the Great Assembly; however, it is interesting to note that there has been much speculation about the origin and development of the Great Assembly (Finkelstein 1929; 1940; Mantel 1967; Zeitlin in Mantel ibid.; Baer 1953). Nonetheless, the composition of the Great Assembly is highly obscure, since our sources do not provide us with this information. The only information provided by the Tannaitic Sages is that the Great Assembly constituted an important link in the chain between the prophets and the pairs, in other words, the Sages mention the period of the Great Assembly 131

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in order to emphasize the continuity of the group, in the sense that the Great Assembly bridges the transition between the period of the prophets and the pairs. Moreover, according to Tannaitic tradition, the institution lasted two hundred years: the last prophets Haggai, Zechariah, and Malakhi are considered to have been first leaders of the Great Assembly (ARN/B 1), and Simeon the Just was the last figure of note to belong to this institution: “the last survivors of the Great Assembly” (m. Abot 1.2). From the above, we can see that some of the figures mentioned above are dominant figures in Jewish history and are conceived as belonging to the faithful element within Israel. The Zugot (pairs) and the Sanhedrin Traditionally, the term Zugot (pairs) denotes the pairs of Sages responsible for preserving the chain of oral law from Antigonus of Sokho, the pupil of Simeon the Just, to Johanan ben Zakkai, directly from the remnants of the Great Assembly. In other words, the pairs represent a genealogical link between the Great Assembly and the Tannaitic Sages (m. Peah 2.6; t. Yadayim 2.16). Moreover, according to Tannaitic and Amoraitic traditions (m. Hagigah 2.2; b. Shabbat 15a), the first of each pair, called the Nasi (the Patriarch), served as president of the Sanhedrin whereas the second of the pair, called Av beit din, officiated as the vice president. In other words, the pairs are portrayed as leaders of the High Court in Jerusalem. The identification of the five pairs responsible for transmitting the tradition of the law is listed in chronological sequence: 1) According to Mishnaic tradition, Yosi ben Yoezer of Zeredah and Yossi ben Johanan were the first of the five Zugot (pairs), and their work dates to the period of religious persecution under Antiochus Epiphanes (174–164 B.C.). 2) Joshua ben Perachiah and Nittai the Arbelite are considered to be the second pair. 3) The third pair, Yehudah ben Tabbai and Simeon ben Shetach, officiated during the time of Alexander Yannai and Salome Alexandra (cf. t. Hagigah 2.8). 4) The fourth pair, Shemaiah and Abtalion, officiated in the time of Herod the Great. 5) The fifth and last pair, Hillel and Shammai, are considered the last figures to transmit the traditions of the law. (For bibliography and discussion see Urbach 1971:1232–1233.) There are some remarkable observations to be made concerning the identity of the pairs: Some of the figures mentioned above are Priests, such as Yossi ben Yoezer of Zeredah, whose priestly identity is concealed. The tendency to eliminate the social category of Priests on the list will be discussed later. Moreover, these pairs were perceived not only as spiritual leaders whose main task was to 132

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transmit the oral law passed down to them from Moses, but also as having an important political role to play in Jewish society. The evidence in the Babylonian Talmud clearly supports this view: Hillel and [his son] Simeon, [his son] Gamaliel [the elder] and [his son] Simeon [ben Gamaliel] held office as Nasi [Patriarch] for a hundred years, while the Temple still existed. Whereas, Yossi ben Yoezer of Tzereidah, and Yossi ben Johanan, were long before that (b. Shabbat 15a).

The above narrative shows that the Sages sought to present their past leaders as leaders of the Jewish nation, which might mirror their current selfperception as leaders of the Jewish nation. However, this has two problematic implications: that the Sages controlled the High Court (Sanhedrin) in Jerusalem and that the office of Patriarch of the House of Hillel already existed during Second Temple period. Let us examine these implications.

The self-image of the Sages as those who controlled the institutions during the Second Temple period The self-portrayal of the Tannaitic Sages as those who controlled the High Court in Jerusalem The implication that the pairs officiated as heads of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem during the Second Temple and that the Sanhedrin was controlled by the group of the Sages is highly questionable. One of the main causes of confusion is apparently the discrepancy between the Greek and the Hebrew sources regarding the portrayal of the membership and composition of the Sanhedrin. For the sake of convenience, I will present the main contradictions between the sources: According to Greek sources, e.g. the NT and Josephus, the Sanhedrin functioned as the National Supreme Court in Jerusalem before the destruction of the Temple. The Sanhedrin comprised the chief Priests, the elders, and the scribes, and was headed by the High Priest. The composition of the members of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem encompassed different social categories, i.e. it included the Sadducees, the Pharisees, and members of the aristocracy of Jerusalem. It was primarily politically oriented and controlled by Herodian rulers. Hebrew sources, e.g. Talmudic sources, depict the Sanhedrin as an independent body, politically and religiously oriented and headed by the Patriarch and the vice president. The Sanhedrin was composed primarily of established scholars, namely Sages, and it was guided according to their halakhic world view. (For extensive discussion see Alon 1989:185–253; 133

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Efron 1980:287–338; Albeck 1943b; Mantel 1965:54–101; Levine 1998:87–90; Goodblatt 1994:103–130.)26 In light of the above, it is likely that the Sages sought to create an image of themselves as controlling the High Court in Jerusalem by presenting an anachronistic reality that reflects the organization of the High Court of the Sages in Jabneh and Usha. (The organization of the Sanhedrin in Jabneh is described in chapter 3, pp. 176–181.) This assumption is based on the following observations: (i) The anachronistic usage of the terms pairs and the Patriarch The description of the dual appointment of the pairs as president (Nasi) and vice president (Av beit din) of the High Court institution in Jerusalem during the Second Temple period is to be rejected. It is a fact that the High Priest was entitled to officiate as head of the High Court and was conceived as the ultimate representative of the Jewish nation. The presentation of the dual appointment of the pairs as Nasi and Av beit din is more likely to be a projection of the current situation in the High Court in Jabneh and later in Usha, approximately 135 C.E. (Urbach 1969). Moreover, the description of the office Nasi (Patriarch) is anachronistic. As argued elsewhere, the office of the Patriarch was instituted after the destruction of the Temple, during the period of Rabban Gamaliel II (80–115 C.E.), implying that he was the leader of the Jewish nation and its spokesman. Neither Hillel (30 B.C.E. — 10 C.E.) nor his son Gamaliel the Elder (30–60 C.E.) nor his grandson Simeon ben Gamaliel (60–70 C.E.) were appointed Patriarch, although they played a major role in the establishment of the national leadership; they were members of the Sanhedrin and had the political power to legislate several enactments in the socio-religious sphere (cf. Urbach 1969; 1975:593–594; Shapira 1999). In light of the above, it is more likely that the description of the dual appointment of the pairs and the appointment of the Nasi as the leader of the Jewish nation are purely a reflection of the Tannaitic period. (ii) The system of the High Court in Jerusalem Tannaitic Sages deliberately created an image of themselves as controlling the High Court in Jerusalem, as depicted in the following description of the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem: There were three courts there. One was situated at the gate of the Temple mount, one was situated at the gate of the Temple courtyard, and one was situated at the 26

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This unresolved enigma gave rise to multiple theories, leading some to accept one source and reject another, or synthesize between the sources and invent all kinds of solutions. However, it is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss at length the problems and the solutions offered to them.

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hewn stone chamber. They came to the one at the gate of the Temple mount and he says: “Thus I have explained the matter, and thus my colleagues have explained the matter. Thus I have taught in this matter and thus my colleagues have taught the matter.” If they had heard a ruling, they told it to them, and if not, they go to the court at the Temple courtyard and he says … and if not, these and those come along to the high court which was in the hewn stone chamber, from which Torah goes forth to all Israel as it is said (Deut. 17.12), From that place which the Lord shall choose (m. Sanhedrin 11.2; cf. t. Sanhedrin 7.1; Sifre Deuteronomy 152–155; j. Sanhedrin 11, 30a; b. Sanhedrin 87a).

The impression gained from the above description is that the High Court located on the Temple mount was composed of and led exclusively by the group of the Sages. The court system was rather complicated and was organized in a hierarchy of three courts in Jerusalem. The Sages in the above are described as having exclusive control over the High Court located at Temple mount and as having ultimate authority in it. However, it is doubtful whether there was a Sanhedrin of Sages or that it was so well organized (cf. Urbach 1969; Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2002). The important point, however, is that the description of the court system indirectly creates the impression that there is a natural continuity between the official activities of the Sages in the Sanhedrin at Jerusalem and later in the High Court at Jabneh and Usha. In light of the above examination, I suggest that the Tannaitic Sages sought to legitimize their present situation as a ruling group by means of an imagined past that portrays them as leaders of the High Court in Jerusalem. The self-portrayal of the Sages as controllers of the Temple and the priesthood Interestingly enough, not only the Sanhedrin was controlled by the Sages, but the work in the Temple and the office of the priesthood was also subject to their scrutiny. There are several spheres within the cultic work of the Priests in the Temple that are described in Tannaitic traditions as being operated and controlled by the group of the Sages. The following example in Mishna Yoma is most illuminating. The story relates to ritual ceremonies pertaining to the Day of Atonement that were conducted by the High Priest in the Temple. The elders of the court handed him over to the elders of the priesthood and they brought him to the Abtinas attic … They said to him: “My lord, High Priest, we are agents of the court, and you are our agent and agent of the Court. We abjure you by Him who causes his name to rest upon this house, that you will not vary in any way from all which we have instructed you” (m. Yoma 1.5). 135

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There are several elements in the above narrative which underscore the superiority of the Sages over the High Priest and the Priests in general. The role of the High Priest is passive: he is handed over; he is required to be subordinate to the rules of the Sages; his actions are controlled by the Sages. The Sages, on the other hand, are in a commanding position, i.e. they present themselves not only as the representatives of the High Court but as those whose task is to ensure that the High Priest performs his duties on the Day of Atonement in accordance with their theological world view. The elders of the Priesthood to whom the High Priest is handed over also acknowledge their subservience to the elders of the court. Furthermore, the following source describes the criteria for appointing judges and their elevation to the High Court. The criteria make no mention of priestly or family attribution. This is especially surprising in view of Sifre Deuteronomy 153 which requires Priests and Levites to be part of the court. This is another example of the Sages eliminating the central role of the Priests from Jewish national history. And from there they would sit and investigate. Whoever is wise [Sage?], humble, sane, sin fearing, of pleasant conduct and people are well disposed toward him — is appointed as judge in his town … and from there he is raised and appointed [as judge] in the hewn stone chamber (t. Hagigah 2.9).

From the above examination, I suggest that in order to claim legitimacy as an elite group in the present, they had to invent a past portraying themselves as a privileged group that controlled Jewish institutions such as the High Court, the Temple institutions, and the work of the priesthood. Moreover, it seems that in the process of constructing their own past as a superior group, they not only create an imagined past, but actually take over leading institutions and positions which according to the hegemonic narrative belonged to the group of the Priests. This mechanism, which I label “the politics of the text,” deals with the social identity of an elite group and will be further examined in the subsequent topic.

The politics of the text in the creation of social identity One of the mechanisms which enabled the Tannaitic Sages to legitimize their group genealogy was textual transformation. The social identity of the Tannaitic Sages was transformed by recruitment either of prominent figures from the past, or of leading positions in Jewish society, institutions, etc., acquired through the politics of the text. In other words, when the group is undergoing identity transformation by altering the hegemonic narrative for their own benefits, other social identities are also transformed, not only in the past but also in the future. It was noted earlier that the Priests are absent from the list in the first chapter 136

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of Abot of those responsible for transmitting the tradition of the law, despite the fact that, according to Jewish tradition, they were considered the teachers of the law. In his article “Continuum of the Chain of Torah Transmission of the Law,” Herr (1979) brings to light that the Sages consciously utilized certain figures from past and historical events and at the same time eliminated other important social categories such as the Priests. The Sages overtly deny the Priest’s role as guardians of the law in the biblical period in their version of the historical continuity of the transmission of the Torah. He suggests that the Sages consciously eliminated the class of Priests from the list and inserted the prophets in their place, redefining the functions of the prophets to bridge the transition between the periods of the “elders” and the “Great Assembly.” He argues that literary evidence testifies that it was the Priests’ primary task to serve as guardians of the law, teachers, and judges, whereas the prophets are hardly mentioned as being involved with the dispensation and transmission of the law. The Bible makes a clear distinction regarding the roles of the Priests and the prophets: “For the law shall not perish from the Priest, nor counsel from the wise, nor word from the prophets” (Jer. 18.18; cf. Deut. 17.9; Ez. 7.26). This idea is strengthened by the fact that throughout the biblical period, from the period of Moses to the time of returnees from the exile, the Priests were considered as the teachers of the law.27 Ezrah the scribe, who is accredited with the foundation of the Great Assembly and a spiritual father of the Sages, was a Priest (Ez. 7.1–5) whose task was to teach the law: “For Ezrah had set his heart to study the law of the lord … and to teach his statutes and ordinances in Israel” (Ez. 7.10). Moreover, the priestly role as guardian of the law is also referred to in later periods. Ben Sirach (approximately 200 B.C), for example, mentions the roles of the Priests: “And he gave him [the Priest] His commandments and invested him with authority over law and judgment that he might teach his people the law” (Ben Sirach 45.17; cf. Aristeas 121–128). In other words, according to ancient Jewish historiography, it was the Priests and not the prophets who were considered the guardians and teachers of the law. Herr concludes that the Sages do not present an accurate description of the past; in the sayings of Abot it is the Priests and not the prophets who should be listed in the chain of Torah and as the transmitters of the law. Herr’s 27

Herr gives many examples from the Bible regarding the role of the Priests: already in Leviticus, Moses, Aaron, and Elazar the Priest are addressed with questions regarding the law (Num. 15.33; ibid. 27.2). After the death of Moses, the function of teacher of the law was transmitted to Elazar the Priest and Joshua (Josh. 17.4). The Priests were the teachers of the law during the period of Judges, and in the kingdom of Judah (II Chron. 17.7–9; 19.8–11), and in the kingdom of Israel (II Kings 17.27–28). The functions of the Priests did not alter after the exodus from Babylon (Hag. 2.11; cf. Mal. 2.1–9). 137

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examination reveals that the Sages not only pick and choose as part of the dialectic process of memorizing and forgetting, in order to construct a logical continuity of their own social identity, but they eliminate and distort historical facts that are repeatedly stated in Jewish historiography.28 Herr’s examination is most illuminating to the present discussion; unfortunately he does not offer any social explanation for the implied meaning of the Tannaitic actions to conceal the traces of the Priests from the Jewish national narrative, not only in the past but also in the future. In view of that, I would like to further excavate the perspective of my theoretical framework that was offered so far and add a new layer.

The generation of counter-collective memory as an act of resistance within the cultural hegemony Naming as a power of self-definition in relation to “significant others” The Afro-American feminist theorist Collins (1991) has pointed out that the process of articulating daily life experience and imparting it with new meaning is the magic formula of group consciousness and empowerment. Naming concrete experiences incites the self-awareness of the group and stimulates a sense of self-affirmation (cf. Tajfel 1978:94). In a similar vein, the Afro-American feminist theorist Lorde (1984) remarks: “It is axiomatic that if we do not define ourselves for ourselves, we will be defined by others — for their use and our detriment” (ibid. 45). Accordingly, the construction of social identity is rooted in political and power relations. When members of the group begin to construct their own collective identity by elaborating, conflating, or omitting historical facts, this leads to a dynamic struggle between the group that represents the cultural hegemony and the oppositional group that constitutes a counter-hegemony for the authority to define the group’s own historical identity by cultural and political means (cf. Herzfeld 1987; Friedman 1994). Historiography versus countermemory Furthermore, this conflict may create a battle on the symbolic frontline of the national historical narrative. The struggle, however, is not about territory or sacred sites but rather about the language of commemoration of the national narrative, in which the dominant group and the oppositional group may compete in order to promote a political agenda for their own interests. Thus, the hegemonic 28

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Herr argues that the Tannaitic Sages had a “total lack” of historiography or historical consciousness, as opposed to the ancient Jewish nation, which was conscious of creating an elaborate historiography, i.e. the biblical and other literary sources from the Second Temple period. For elaborated discussion and bibliography see Herr 1979; cf. Yerushalmi 1982.

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discourse is challenged by the oppositional group, which offers countermemory29 or an alternative historiography and creates a new canonical historical narrative as part of counter-hegemonic resistance (cf. Foucault in Zerubavel 1995:11; H. Naveh 1998).30 Moreover, the examination of Maines and Sugrue and Katovich with respect to power relations between the dominant group and the oppositional group reveals that once the latter group establishes a legitimate “mythical past” it is able to make claims in the present and to influence “future policies” to further the group’s own interests (Maines and Sugrue and Katovich 1983). In light of the above theoretical framework, I would like to suggest several layers of meaning behind the actions of the Tannaitic Sages so far described. If the Sages wanted to present for themselves and others a selective picture of their common historical and cultural origin as guardians of the law, they couldn’t possibly identify with the Priests as their forerunners, since the group of the Priests represented the dominant group with which they compete. Thus, by eliminating the Priests from the list and substituting the prophets, they safeguarded the group’s own distinct identity as guardians, teachers, and judges of the law. Furthermore, the generation of the Sages’ collective memory is better understood as a result of a complex interaction with the group of the Priests. The selfdefinition of the Tannaitic Sages was not generated ex nihilo, but in a world already defined by the dominant group, in this case the group of the Priests who constituted the cultural hegemony. Moreover, the Jewish national historical narrative further legitimized the privileged status and exclusive right of the Priests to carry out certain preexisting tasks that had become distinctive marks of their social position. Taking this information into consideration, it is clear that if the Sages wanted to change the power structure in their own society, they had to form an alternative commemoration which stood in contrast to the hegemonic one. My examination reveals that the politics of historical construction entailed several social mechanisms by which the Tannaitic Sages sought to alter the national narrative for their own benefit and thus claim their rights to leadership within the Jewish community. The Sages fought on several symbolic front lines of the national historical narrative: 29

30

Foucault uses the concept countermemory to denote the action of the oppositional group of forming an alternative point of view of the past that stands consciously in contrast to the hegemonic one (Foucault in Zerubavel 1995:11). The above suggestions are reaffirmed by numerous ethnographic cases (e.g. the movement of postcolonialism during the 60’s and 70’s and the black movement) which repeatedly reveal that the constitution of new canonical historical narratives contributes to the alteration of power relationship between the dominant and the subaltern groups (cf. B. Schwartz 1982; cf. Shenhav 2003). 139

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(i) They elaborated and conflated the idea that the oral law originated during the period of Moses and was handed down to the Tannaitic Sages uninterruptedly, and at the same time they eliminate the central role of the Priests from the Jewish national history as teachers, interpreters of the law, and judges. (ii) They invent a genealogy which incorporates the recruitment of prominent Jewish figures, and at the same time they transform the social identity of leading Priestly figures by presenting them as Sages. (iii) They present themselves as controlling the Jewish institutions such as the High Court, the Temple, and the priesthood. I suggest that once they had established a legitimate “mythical past” and transformed the perception of Jewish history, they could make claims of structural superiority on the new social map and thereby influence “future policies,” as will be discussed in chapter 3, pp. 198–218 and 5 (cf. Funkenstein 1991:26; Maines and Sugrue and Katovich 1983).

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THE CULTURAL IDENTITY OF THE GROUP OF SAGES: DIACRITICAL FEATURES AND A BASIC VALUE SYSTEM 31

Group consciousness and common identity The concept of identity has two opposing dimensions, namely sameness and contrast; identity as sameness, which can be applied both to a person or a collective, and identity as contrast, as being distinct from others. These two notions are intimately related to the idea of continuity, both on a personal and a collective level. This view is shared by the “founding father” of contemporary theories of personal identity, Erikson, who stated that the term identity expresses such a mutual relation in that it connotes both a persistent sameness within oneself (selfsameness) and a persistent sharing of some kind of essential character with others (Erikson 1968:19–23; 1980:22, 109; cf. Norton 1988; Calhoun 1994; Anthias 2006; Hildur 2006). The sociologist Jenkins (2000) adds that the notion of having something in common is essential for identity formation, even if that something has negative connotations of being imaginary, trivial, unimportant, etc. Jenkins further states that: “Group identification, by definition, presupposes that members will see themselves minimally similar. Social categorization is predicated upon the proposition that those who are categorized have a criterion of identification in common” (ibid. 105). Accordingly, one of the basic features of a social group is having the consciousness of being the same kind (Geertz 1973; Hiebert 1983:177–186; Tajfel and Turner 1979). People who are conscious of their common identity perceive themselves as belonging to the same group. They share many similar characteristics. This consciousness of similarity involves affinity with the other persons 31

The main concern of this monograph is to examine the various components which contribute to their social distinction as a group. It is important, however, to emphasize that there are other components which did not distinguish them as a social group, for example: (a) daily life — the Sages did not a have different quotidian routine from the rest of the Jewish community; (b) place of residence — they did not live in separate communities; (c) family order; (d) synagogue — the Sages did not have control over the synagogue, nor did they have well-defined functions in it. 141

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whom they identify as belonging to the same group. Group members are aware of their membership in the group and at the same time they are identified by others as belonging to the group (Barth 1969; Young 1989). This, as we shall see throughout the monograph, is often manifested in diacritical features and a basic system of values. Group members usually share certain cultural features inculcated by members of the in-group and by which they recognize one another. Generally speaking, these are cultural traits such as values, specific practice or beliefs, world view, and common interests. Such markers come to symbolize the identity of the group and reinforce the members’ consciousness of their uniqueness and at the same time their distinctiveness from other groups. Moreover, cultural symbols are used by the social group to signify distinction in order to express and establish for themselves and members of the out-group their position in the social structure, in other words, the legitimate power relationship that exists in the contemporary social structure (Bourdieu 1984).

Appearance and lifestyle Although the Tannaitic sources do not provide us with a wealth of information regarding the appearance of the Sages, such as there is in the New Testament with respect to the Pharisees and in the Amoraitic literature with respect to the Sages, the evidence indicates that the Sages were recognized by several diacritical features: From a man’s benediction [i.e. the way in which he recites benedictions] one discerns whether he is ignorant or a Disciple of the Sages (t. Berakhot 1.6). The Disciples of the Sages are recognized by their walk, their speech, and their dress in the market place (Sifre Deuteronomy 343).

This states in general that members of the group were distinguished by several diacritical features: their dress, their walk, and their speech. It is, however, unclear to what the terms speech and walk refer to. There are several possibilities: (i) Speech refers to the language they spoke, e.g. Hebrew as opposed to Aramaic. (ii) It refers to an elevated language. This is deduced from the fact that the Sages were scholars. (iii) It may refer to their manners as expressed in their speech. (iv) Another possibility is that it refers to the content of their speech, denoting the wisdom they possessed. I suggest that the term probably refers both to the manner in which they spoke and the intellectual knowledge they possessed. Similarly, the term “walk” may have three meanings: (i) It literally means the way they walk in the street. 142

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(ii) In the narrow sense, it may denote manners or specific codes of behavior. (iii) In the broad sense, it may refer to values and norms that were manifested in the praxis of their daily life, such as humility, honesty, and kindness (cf. m. Abot 6.5). I suggest that it refers to both aspects, namely, to the manners of the Sages and their culturally specific set of values and norms. Moreover, the symbolic status mentioned above clearly demonstrates that the Sage was a highly respected person, a model to be emulated by the general public. Furthermore, there is an implication that members of the group were conscious of their own group identity and distinction. In the Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature, most statements about the distinguishing features of the Sages are used by negation, e.g. what the group should refrain from or whom they should not associate with. The text specifies that the Sages were expected to refrain from using perfume, eating in the market place, wearing patched shoes, having stains on their clothing, shaving the armpit, talking to a woman, etc. Let us examine the evidence: 1. Because it is not praise, [for a] Sage to leave [his house] perfumed (t. Berakhot 5.29). 2. It is not the praise, of a Sage to eat in the market (j. Maaserot 3.5, 50d). 3. It is disgraceful for a Sage to go out wearing patched shoes to the market … a Sage found with a stain on his clothing merits the death penalty (b. Shabbat 114a). 4. [a Sage] should not go to the market perfumed, should not walk about alone at night, should not [publicly] wear patched shoes, should not talk with a woman in the market, should not socialize with ’Amei ha‘aretz (b. Berakhot 43b).

The uniqueness of the Sages’ identity is highlighted by comparison with other social categories. However, their distinctiveness is emphasized by negation. The group of the Sages abstains from habits that might be practiced by other social categories. Thus, the diacritical markers that are used by negation symbolize the social boundaries of the group and at the same time reinforce the members’ consciousness of their own similarities (cf. Barth 1969).

Symbols of status as an expression of symbolic identity The social anthropologist Rubin (1997) suggests that the general assumption that the Sages were fastidious about their outlook, appearance, and public behavior is reflected in the world view of the group, which demands discipline and obedience. Rubin’s examination notes that the range of bodily expressions among the group of the Sages is limited by elaborate codes of behavior: Bodily expressions, such as yawning, sneezing, and coughing should be controlled. 143

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Spitting and eating in public are prohibited. There is an admonition against a person making a noise in public by laughing, chewing, smacking of the lips, etc. (for literary sources see Rubin 1997:80, n. 120, 121). His ideas are based on the theory of the social anthropologist Douglas (1996) about natural symbols. Douglas sees a correspondence between the coding of ritual forms and the structure of society, e.g. the human body functions as a vehicle which reflects the system of the social culture. Douglas distinguishes between structured and unstructured cultures. The society which is less structured is less interested in ceremonies, customs, and beliefs. Consequently, the “scope” of bodily expressions is more spontaneous and demands less control of personal behavior (cf. Barth in Douglas 1996:19). Whereas in a highly structured society, the physical body is highly subordinated to condensed symbolic expressions of ritual distinctions which corresponds to the given commitment of situational norms and the roles are performed in public (Douglas 1996:xxxvii, 72–92). Douglas further argues that bodily discipline is an expression of the hierarchy in a given society. In other words, the group which conceives of itself as superior in the social hierarchy is more likely to have highly structured codes of behavior. Douglas expresses it in her own words: “It uses different degrees of disembodiment to express the social hierarchy. The more refinement, the less smacking of the lips when eating, the less mastication, the less the sound of breathing, the walking, the more carefully modulated the laughter, the more controlled the signs of anger, the clearer becomes the priestly-aristocratic image” (Douglas 1996:80). From the above examination, it seems that members of the group consciously used certain cultural features to signal their identification as superior in their cultural setting. In the following, I will present two cases to demonstrate that the self-image of the Sage is perceived as superior in the social hierarchy. Symbols of status with respect to mourning and funeral rites Baring the shoulder as a sign of symbolic status During the Tannaitic period, baring one’s shoulder was one of the signs of mourning for the dead. Generally speaking, it was the obligation of the close relatives of the dead to practice mourning and funeral rites. The halakhah below indicates that it is mainly the relatives who are obliged to practice the rites of mourning. Garments are not rent, shoulders are not bared and the mourner’s meal is not served, except by relatives of the deceased (m. Moed Qatan 3.7; cf. b. Baba Qamma 17a). 144

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The relatives of the deceased were required to rip their garments so that one of their shoulders would be exposed. (For a detailed examination about mourning rites in Jewish society, see Rubin 1997.) As will be shown later, the members of the group were also obliged to practice the rites of mourning for one another (cf. chapter 3, pp. 166–169). The public obligation to mourn for their leaders The following halakhah reveals a new dimension, namely that the public are obliged to mourn for their leaders who are identified as the group of the Sages. Let us first examine the halakhah: All are obliged to bare [their shoulder] for the Sage and the Disciple [of the Sage]. For a Sage who died one bares the right [shoulder]; [for] an Av beit din [the vice president of the court house] who died one bares the left [shoulder]; [for] a Nasi [the president] who died one bares both hands (Semachot 9.2).

The above halakhah stipulates that the public should mourn for their leaders who are identified as belonging to the group of the Sages and listed in hierarchical order according to their symbolic status. According to this model of hierarchy, the Patriarch, who is at the top of the pyramid, precedes the president of the court house (Av beit din) who precedes the Sage, and the Sage precedes the Disciple of the Sage. (Their roles and status will be discussed in chapter 3, pp. 170–197.) The inner hierarchy of the group of the Sages is well expressed by ritual symbols of a well-defined order that was recognized in the classical world. Rubin’s examination notes that baring one’s shoulder with respect to mourning rites was practiced in ancient Egypt and is still practiced in contemporary Arab Muslim countries. Moreover, one of the symbolic interpretations that are offered is that the Greek tunic worn in the classical world was sleeveless, and therefore the exposing of the shoulder was necessary; he explains that in ancient Greece the tunic (himation) was a rectangular cloth, the left shoulder was covered while the right shoulder was bare. Accordingly, exposing the left shoulder would call attention to the act of mourning, and because this shoulder is normally covered it signifies a higher status of honor. I therefore deduce that baring the left shoulder for the president of the court house signifies a higher symbolic status than the Sage and obviously, baring both shoulders for the Patriarch, no doubt symbolized the highest respect accorded by the act of mourning (cf. Rubin 1997:167–170). The above halakhah demonstrates that funeral rites were used to provide symbolic status to distinguish the group of the Sages as a superior group. In other words, by stipulating these requirements to the public they signal to themselves and others their status as an elite group. Moreover, the demand that the public expose their shoulders as a sign of mourning signifies that the group of the Sages 145

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perceived themselves as an elite group whose members constituted the leadership of the Jewish nation. (This issue will be elaborated on in chapter 3, pp. 198–218.) Symbolic hierarchy with respect to funeral rites Another example which may indicate that the Sages conceived of themselves as superior in the social hierarchy can be found in the following halakhah: When a Sage and a Disciple [die], they first take out the Sage [for burial]; a Disciple and ‘Am ha’aretz they first take out the Disciple. If both were Sages or Disciples or ‘Am ha’aretz, they take out the one who died first (Semachot 11.1).

Ironically, hierarchical status also applies to the dead. It is stipulated in the above that if two persons need to be buried, the person who died first is taken for burial unless one has a higher status than the other, in which case he is to be given priority. The Sage precedes the Disciple of the Sage, and the Disciple of the Sage precedes the ‘Am ha’aretz. As shown elsewhere, the social category ‘Am ha’aretz denotes the general public. Thus, we see once again that the Sages perceived themselves as superior in the social hierarchy and thus also deserving priority, with the right to be buried first. Burial The network of social solidarity and group affinity is further supported by archaeological remains from Beit She‘arim, which indicate that members of the group preferred to be buried next to each other. For example, the high concentration of rabbinic graves in two catacombs, nos. 14 and 20, in the necropolis of Beit She‘arim reveals that they preferred to be buried close to each other. There are 26 graves in these two catacombs with the inscriptions “Rabbi,” which indicates that the people buried in these catacombs belonged to the closed circle of the rabbinic class (Levine 1989:47–53).32 Moreover, I would suggest that the status of the Patriarch was honored by erecting a study house (beit va‘ad) close to his grave, so that the Sages could honor him by having a burial ceremony and a study-session. We can deduce this from literary and archaeological evidence. Let us examine that evidence. And Hezekiah slept with his fathers, and they buried him in the ascent of the sepulchers of the sons of David; and honor was done to him at his death (II Chron. 32.33). What honor was done do to him? R. Judah ben Simeon, R. Hanin and Rabbis [suggest answers]. R. Judah ben Simeon said: “They built a study house (beit va‘ad) above Hezekiah’s grave.” And when they went there they would say to him: “teach us” (Midrash Rabbah, Buber, Lamentation, Petichtah, 25). 32

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In catacomb no. 14 there are three tombs with the inscription “Rabbi” and several families are buried in number 20, eight of which belonged to the rabbinic circle.

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Although the above refers to the burial of King Hezekiah, it probably reflects the social reality of the Amoraitic Sages. The death of the leader of the Jewish nation would be honored by the erection of a study house (beit va‘ad) adjacent to his grave, so that the Sages could hold a study-session in his honor. This idea is supported by an archaeological excavation conducted in Beit She‘arim; an open-air structure was found above catacombs 14 and 20. Within the walls of this construction, rows of stone benches were found. Archaeologists suggest that the construction was probably used as a study house (beit va‘ad) for prayer and ritual sermons during the days of mourning and commemoration (Avigad and B. Mazar 1993:244; cf. Z. Safrai 1995:186–189).33 Symbols of status with respect to social conventions Even during social visits, there is evidence that the Sages demanded respect from the general Jewish public. Their justification for this demand derives from their social position as teachers and judges in the house of study: When a Sage enters your house do not treat him with contempt and don’t sit with him neither on the bed nor on the bench but be seated at his feet on the ground and receive his teaching with fear and respect in the same manner as when you hear him at beit ha’midrash (ARN/B 11).

This indicates that the hierarchical status of the Sage vis-à-vis the general Jewish public had to be correlated symbolically with the physical position of the Disciple vis-à-vis his Master in the house of study, which would manifest his inferior position. Symbols of status — great geographic mobility Another indication of their social position in their cultural milieu is the general notion that scholars are characterized by having geographic mobility. It has already been demonstrated in several places that prominent leaders within the group of the Sages often traveled for various reasons. However, the sources reveal that geographic mobility is not confined to the leaders, but is characteristic of the group of the Sages in general. (For extensive examination and sources see Hezser 1997:165–171.) One of the reasons the Sages traveled was to teach or to listen to a discourse of a famous Rabbi; many of them are said to have traveled from town to town teaching the Disciples of the Sages. The Disciples of the Sages also traveled from town to town to hear the teaching of a Sage with a good reputation (Alon 1989:472; cf. Rosenfeld 1997a:50–51). 33

I wish to thank Prof. Z. Safrai for this suggestion. 147

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The following attests to the geographical mobility of the Disciples of the Sages: It happened that R. Joshua went to R. Ishmael at Kefar Aziz, and he showed him a vine which was trained over part of a fig tree. [R. Joshua] said to him: “may I put seed under the remainder [of a tree].” [R. Ishmael] said to him: “it is permitted” (m. Kilayim 6.4; cf. m. Erubin 1.2; t. Maaserot 2.1).

The custom of traveling in order to learn seems to continue in the Amoraitic period and was probably a well-established custom among the Amoraitic Sages: These are the Disciples of the Sages; who travel from city to city and from province to province in order to study Torah (b. Erubin 54b).

Furthermore, it is interesting to note that in the Greco-Roman world, traveling was restricted for the most part to members of the cultivated intellectual families. In his thorough examination of traveling in the ancient world, Casson writes: “Only a member of the leisured class could indulge wanderlust” (Casson 1994:97). We are told that Roman philosophers, such as Apollonius of Tyana who lived during the first century, would travel for a variety of reasons (Casson 1994:258). Chevallier also lists various types of social categories of the privileged class, such as Emperors, administrative officials, and diplomats, who traveled throughout the Roman empire for various reasons, although he does mention other social categories, such as merchants and tourists (Chevallier in Hezser 1997:167). I would therefore suggest that the diacritical feature of geographic mobility indicates that the Sages belonged to the religious nobility. Leisure time spent by the group of the Sages In the following, I will examine two social institutions used by the members of the group during their free time, and the social mechanisms that contributed to further nurturing of social networks of existing friendship. The banquet as a social gathering The banquet house figures prominently in the Tannaitic sources as one of the dominant social locations where the Tannaitic Sages spent their free time. The banquet was held either at the home of the hosts, who arranged their own dinner party, or in a specific place used for such gatherings. Accordingly, the banquet had two main functions: (i) as a popular place for men to spend their free time. (ii) as a place where family celebrations were held, such as circumcisions and marriage rites. 148

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The banquet house was a popular place for men to spend their free time and the Tannaitic Sages recognized this (t. Besah 4.10; Rubin 2004:272). This suggestion is explained in light of the socio-religious context of the Tannaitic Sages. Generally speaking, the Tannaitic Sages made a conscious effort to distance themselves from the Roman culture and all it represented (For an elaborated discussion see Levine 1998:124–138). The examination of the archaeologist Weiss reveals that in the GrecoRoman culture it was customary for the population to spend their free time in social venues such as theaters, circuses, amphitheater, and stadiums. Eschewing the social habits of Roman culture, the Sages explicitly admonished the Jewish public not to gather in such places. When the Tannaitic Sages expound the old saying: “Nor shall you follow their customs,” they interpret it afresh to mirror their contemporary situation: You should not follow their customs in matters that are established by law for them, for example, [going to their] theaters, circuses, and playing fields (Sifra Acharei Mot, Parashah 13.9).

The prohibition against Jewish participation in these places, however, was based on moral and religious grounds, such as the pagan worship conducted during performances in the theaters or the spectacles in the circus, such as gladiators fighting wild animals (t. Abodah Zarah 2.5–7; cf. m. Abodah Zarah 1.7; for a detailed examination, see Weiss 2001; cf. Levine 1998:126). Furthermore, it should be underlined that banquet house was not a Jewish invention, but constituted an important component of the Hellenistic and Roman culture. Many customs pertaining to meals eaten in the banquet house were influenced by the Greco-Roman culture, such as the order of meals, drinking wine, and the symposium; in some cases after the meal the guests conducted a symposium at which various topics were seriously discussed. As we will shortly see, various discussions were not absent from the gathering of the Sages in the banquet house (cf. Bradely 1998; Dunbabin 1998; Nielsen 1998; Noy 1998). However, unlike at the Jewish banquet, the culture of drinking was of central importance due to the respect paid to their god of wine. (In Greek mythology, Dionysus was the son of Zeus who was the equivalent of the Roman god Bacchus.) Because drinking often resulted in fistfights, orgies, and other “exciting” consequences, frequently described by various GrecoRoman historians, the Sages distanced themselves from the Greco-Roman type of dinner party. (For comparative examination and bibliography see Tabori 1977:7–15, 251–259.) 149

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In short, the banquet house was an alternative social milieu and was considered one of the places where the Tannaitic Sages could spend their time (Rubin 2004:273). The banquet house was also used to celebrate joyful occasions such as marriages. The story below is most revealing, since it provides us with inside information about the lifestyle and the world view of the Sages. Let us examine it: Once R. Eliezer and R. Joshua and R. Zadok were reclining at the banquet house for the son of Rabban Gamaliel II. Rabban Gamaliel II poured a cup (of wine) for R. Eliezer, who declined it. R. Joshua took it, whereupon R. Eliezer said to him: “What’s this Joshua? Is it fitting for us to be reclining while Rabban Gamaliel son of Rabbi stands and serves us?” R. Joshua Replied: “Let him serve. After all, Abraham, one of the great ones of the world, served the ministering angels when he thought that they were pagan Arabs … Should not Gamaliel son of Rabbi serve us?” R. Zadok thereupon said to them: “You have ignored God’s honor in order to deal with the honor of flesh and blood. If He who spoke, and the world came into being, causes winds to blow, brings up clouds, brings down rains, and raises vegetation, thus setting a table for everyone, should not Gamaliel son of Rabbi serve us?” (Sifre Deuteronomy 38; cf. b. Qiddushin 32b).

The story tells us that R. Eliezer, R. Joshua and R. Zadok were among the guests invited to the banquet house by the Patriarch Rabban Gamaliel II in order to celebrate his son’s wedding. When the president commences to serve his guests by pouring wine into their cups, an important question is raised by one of his guests: R. Eliezer ponders whether a person like Rabban Gamaliel II, who is at the pinnacle of the group’s hierarchy, is permitted to serve others who are considered beneath him. From this story, I suggest that the wedding of the son of Rabban Gamaliel II is used as an informal communication to further strengthen the network of existing friendship among the members of the group. As we shall see later, the network of interdependency is evident in the private spheres of the group, as in their attendance at others’ weddings. During the wedding, an internal problem was raised concerning the manner in which members of the group are supposed to interact with each other, in other words, the issue of honor. Although this will be discussed in the following, (cf. chapter 3, pp. 170–197) I would mention in passing that the story teaches us that matters of honor were of great importance to the inner hierarchy of the group. Thus, we see that members of the group can discuss their problems together outside beit ha’midrash and reach a solution that will enable them to organize their pattern of behavior accordingly. It should be 150

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enphasized that there is other evidence to indicate that the Sages used to spend time at banquets. From the above examination, I conclude that the banquet house served a dual function: as a place to celebrate joyful occasions such as weddings and circumcisions, and as place where members of the group could spend their free time. The public bath houses (balneum) The Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature strongly indicates that the public bath house was another social institution which functioned as a gathering place where members of the Sages spent their leisure time. However, the evidence afforded by the Tannaitic sources is relatively scarce compared to the Jerusalem Talmud. This leads us to speculate that the Sages’ use of the bath house came to full bloom during the Amoraitic period. The public bath house was constructed and decorated according to the fashion of the Greco-Roman style. Despite a number of halakhic problems,34 the public bath house was adopted by the Jewish community under the social control of the Sages, as articulated in Rabbinic literature (Gihon 1978; Reich 1988; Eliav 1995; 2001). It should be emphasized that the spread of the phenomenon of the public bath houses in Palestine Judea was not restricted to large cities but included smaller settlements. (For a cataloguing of the areas of bath houses see Hadar 1995:66–68.) The many codes of behavior associated with the bath house that are to be found in the Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature indicate that the Sages often spent their free time at the bath house. The story below suggests that spending time at the bath houses was part of the lifestyle of the Sages: Once it happened that in the bath of Benei Beraq … R. Aqiba and R. Elazar ben Azariah went in [the hot room] and perspired therein, then went out [to the cold room] and took a bath in cold water (t. Shabbat 3.4).

This source mentions two of the bath house facilities, namely the sweating room (sodatorium) and the cold room (frigidarium), which were two of the major components in the bath house (cf. the following note). As already suggested, the frequency of visits by the Sages to the bath houses was at a peak during the Amoraitic period. The vast evidence to be found in the 34

Some of the halakhic problems listed by Reich (1988) are: (i) Heating the water on Sabbath and holidays. (ii) Sculptures and paintings of human figures in these bath houses. (iii) Men and women bathing together naked. (iv) Issues of purity and impurity were involved, such as that of menstruating women. 151

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Jerusalem Talmud reflects the centrality of the bath house as a popular social gathering place in the world of the Sages (j. Berakhot 2.7, 5b; j. Peah 8.9, 21b; j. Terumot 8.10, 46c; j. Shabbat 1.2, 3a; j. Besah 1.6, 60c and others; for extensive examination see Eliav 1995:22–33; 2001). The spectrum of activities in the public bath house demonstrates that those participating in it used it as a place for socializing and recreation. (For a detailed examination, see Gihon 1978; cf. Hadar 1995.)35 Moreover, the examination of Hadar with respect to the distribution and social functions relating to the bath houses in the Palestinian society reveals that additional amenities were provided at the bath house, such as the possibility of purchasing wine and food. The sources indicate that wine and light food, such as sodden olives (t. Abodah Zarah 4.8), eggs (t. Makhshirin 3.10–11), and different kinds of cakes and food could be sold at the door of the bathhouse (j. Terumot 2.1, 41b; for a detailed examination, see Hadar 1995:111–112). Bathers could also enjoy the fragrance that came from the vapors of the incense used in the bath house. However, scholars disagree with respect to the nature of this “smelling incense”: Libermann identified the kapat hamerhatz (literary the bath’s palm) mentioned in Tosefta Demai 1.29 as an oil mixed with an herb and used as smelling incense at the bath house (Libermann 1992, Tosefta Ki-fshutah I, 208). Unlike Libermann, Zicik suggested that kapat hamerchatz is not an incense but a narcotic plant (hyoscyamus); both the leaves and the seeds of hyoscyamus plant contain a tranquilizing drug which has hallucinatory effects (Zicik 1952:237, 35

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I construct the process of bathing as follows: According to halakhic regulations, one was permitted to recite the Shema or other prayers in the dressing room. One who enters the bath house, in a place where people stand dressed, may recite the Shema or other prayers there and it goes without saying that he may greet [his fellows] there. He may put on his phylacteries (t. Berakhot 2.20). After taking off his clothes (including his religious items) and storing them in the dressing room (apodyterium) it was customary to bathe in the following order: a person would first warm his body in the lukewarm room (tepidarium) in order to regulate the temperature of his body before he entered the heated room. This room included benches, so we can imagine that while sitting on the benches and waiting for their body to get warm they were able to chat and relax together. (About the usage of the benches in the bath house cf. m. Baba Batra 4.6; t. Baba Batra 1.11–12, m. Niddah 9.3; kelim 22.10; cf. Hadar 1995:96–97.) It was common to bathe first in the hot room (caldarium) that was heated by hypocaust, and when the body was warm enough, they would bathe in the cold room (frigidarium). In addition, a person could also spend time in the “sweating” room which refers to the “dry” room (Sodatorium) or the “wet” room (laconicum). The system of sweating rooms was similar to the contemporary dry and wet saunas. After bathing, there were additional rooms for anointing the body with oil (unctoria) and a place for removing the oil (destrictaria) however, these rooms were found only in the more developed bath houses (Gihon 1978).

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728; cf. Palevitch and Yaniv 1991:324–326). According to Hofler, the plant was used in the public bath house by spreading its seeds on a heating plate and the vapor used to make the bathers “happy” (Hofler in Zicik 1952:728; for additional evidence see Hadar 1995:112). It is hard to decide whether this plant was used in the bath houses, and if so, was it used in all bath houses? The crucial point, in my opinion, is that the Sages were able to enjoy the pleasures afforded to them within the limits of their social framework. Moreover, time spent at the bath house was not intended for Torah study; in fact it was strictly prohibited to study Torah while spending time at the bath house except for asking questions regarding the halakhot about the bath house: R. Jacob son of Idi in the name of R. Joshua ben Levi [said]: “It is permissible to ask questions about the laws of the bath house in the bath house itself, laws of privy in the privy itself.” R. Simeon ben Elazar went in to bathe with R. Meir [on Sabbath in the hot spring of Tiberias]. He said to him: “What is the law with regards to our rinsing off?” He said to him: “It is forbidden.” “What is the law with regards to our wiping ourselves off?” He said to him: “It is forbidden [This proves that one may reply to questions pertaining to the laws of the bathhouse when in the bathhouse]” (j. Abodah Zarah 3.4, 42d; j. Shabbat 3.3, 6a).

The widespread use of bath houses during the Tannaitic period no doubt demanded elaborate codes of behavior, as shown above. Moreover, the new set of rules was not intended for the general public but for the closed circle of the Sages. In order to solve situational problems pertaining to the culture of the bath house, the Sages were forced to innovate highly structured ritual codes that coincided with their world view. Moreover, the highly restrictive codes of behavior call to mind Douglas’ notion, namely that the scope of bodily expressions as a medium is an expression of the social control of the given group, and that the more condensed the spectrum of bodily restrictions the higher the status of the group in the social hierarchy. I would also suggest that the bath house became an extension of beit ha’midrash in the sense that members of the group could raise questions regarding the scope of ritual activities permitted in it. I conclude that as an informal meeting place the bath house contributed to the integration of the group by providing a location for the network of existing friendships among the members of the group, where relevant issues could be further discussed and information could be exchanged.

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The usage of language as a social marker in a micro-macro context I demonstrated earlier that language is one of the primordial identities that enables a group to define its borderline and distinctiveness. Generally speaking, epigraphical remains testify that there were three dominant languages during the Tannaitic period: Greek, Aramaic, and Hebrew.36 In the following, I will demonstrate how these languages played different roles in the micro-macro context of Jewish society and their order of importance to the Sages’ identity. (For a detailed discussion and bibliography regarding the relations between the Hebrew and Aramaic languages during the Tannaitic period from a sociolinguistic point of view see Gluska 1999; cf. Levine 1998:72–84.) The usage of language as a social marker in a macro context: Greek versus Hebrew and Aramaic The Greek language was the language of the Eastern Roman empire and the aristocrats. Basing himself on epigraphical inscriptions and literary sources, Levine suggests that members of the middle and upper classes in Jerusalem used the Greek language (Levine 1998:76–80). The usage of language as a social marker in a micro context: Hebrew versus Aramaic The Hebrew and the Aramaic languages were two competing languages used respectively according to the social context. Several scholarly investigations based on archaeological finds have revealed that during the Second Temple period the Hebrew and Aramaic languages were used simultaneously by the Jewish population of Palestine Judea; however, they were used in different social locations, denoting different functions. On the one hand, Aramaic, was the dominant language of Jewish society and was used as a spoken and written language for secular and legal matters. Whereas Hebrew had a different status; it was the national language, legitimating the authenticity of Jewish identity in relation to its holiness. J. Naveh (1992b) argues that Aramaic language was dominant in various social locations: (i) It was the spoken language in daily affairs. (ii) It was the written language used for secular and legal matters. Most of the letters and other texts on ostraca found in Masada, Jerusalem, and other archaeological sites were written in Aramaic. Legal documents, such as marriage contracts, divorce contracts, and leases were also written in Aramaic. 36

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Latin was also used, but to a lesser degree (cf. Levine 1998:73–74).

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Archaeological finds reveal that most of the contracts written on papyrus in Nahal Hever and Wadi Murabba‘at were in Aramaic, except for the period during the two great Jewish revolts. Even in the Mishna, which is written in Hebrew, there are citations in Aramaic from various kinds of contracts. (iii) Aramaic seems to have been preferred to Hebrew for the inscriptions on Jewish tombs (J. Naveh 1992b). Hebrew was the dominant language in two vital spheres, the national and the cultic. The cultic sphere The Hebrew language is the high language of Jewish culture; it is the language of the Holy Scriptures and the cultic sphere. We may assume that the language used in the Temple and its cult was Hebrew; at least the professional terminology was in Hebrew, as is well accounted in the Tannaitic literature. J. Naveh points out that the usage of Hebrew pertaining to the cult extended beyond the confines of the Temple. This idea is further supported by archaeological finds; several inscriptions pertaining to the Temple cult have been discovered in Hebrew (B. Mazar 1970; B. Mazar and E. Mazar 1989; E. Mazar 1998 and others). In addition, all the inscriptions that were inscribed on jars in Masada regarding issues of priestly tithes are in Hebrew (Yadin and Naveh 1989:1–65). The national sphere As previously stated, the Hebrew language evoked national feelings in Jewish society, especially during the two great Jewish Revolts. The inscriptions on coins dating to different periods are in Hebrew. Moreover, it seems that during the two great Jewish revolts, there was a tendency among some Jewish leaders, such as Bar-Kokhba, to write legal documents in Hebrew and not in Aramaic, in order to revive the Hebrew language and make it the official one. Yadin, for example, remarked: “It seems that this change came as a result of the order that was given by Bar-Kokhba, who wanted to revive the Hebrew language and make it the official language of the state” (Yadin 1971:181; cf. J. Naveh 1992b; Eshel 2001). The above suggests that there were two prevailing languages in Jewish society, each with a different social purpose in the Jewish context. Our next step is to discover which language was used by the Sages and for what social purpose it was used. The usage of language as a social demarcation by the group of the Sages Both literary and archaeological sources indicate that the Sages consciously used Hebrew as a social marker to indicate group distinctiveness. 155

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Let us first turn to the evidence: 1) The usage of Hebrew names as indexical references to the social group to which they belong. By using Hebrew (or Aramaic) names, such as Yosi, Natai, Shimeon, Yehoshua, and Johanan, they were showing open contempt for the Hellenistic culture and disassociation from it, and at the same time loyalty to their Jewish culture (cf. Levine 1981). 2) Inscriptions on graves: The high concentration of rabbinic graves in two catacombs, nos. 14 and 20, in the necropolis of Beit She‘arim and the choice of names and the language used for the tomb is another indication that the Sages used Hebrew; 80 per cent of the inscriptions in Beit She‘arim are in Greek, whereas the inscriptions on the Jewish tombs are mainly in Hebrew (Levine 1989). 3) The language of the Tannaitic literature: As mentioned earlier, the entire folio of the Mishna and Tosefta was written in Hebrew. However, Aramaic was used when documenting legal records, such as the Ketubba, referring to the marriage contract, (cf. m. Ketubot 4.7–12), and lease contracts (t. Baba Mesia 9.9; t. Baba Mesia 9.12–13). Moreover, Levine (1998) argues that the two Aramaic statements quoted in Hillel’s name in the first chapters in Mishna Abot (1.13; 2.6) underscore the notion that Hebrew was used “primarily in limited circles,” in our case the group of the Sages. The question that must be asked is whether Mishnaic Hebrew was used by the Sages mainly as a written language or as the spoken language of daily life, in beit ha’midrash for example. I suggest that it was a spoken language as well as a written one. This assumption is based on the following: Whereas the legal documents of Bar-Kokhba were written in incoherent Hebrew often mixed with Aramaic words, Mishnaic Hebrew is highly eloquent and refined. This observation further strengthens the idea that the Tannaitic Sages used Hebrew to a great extent in their daily life, for instance in beit ha’midrash. If the observation is correct, the inevitable question is what motivated the Sages to use Hebrew in an active way? First of all, I would suggest that the ideology behind the use of Hebrew, as previously indicated, reflects the ideology of the Sages. As previously stated, the Hebrew language evoked national feelings of authentic Jewish origin and tradition that were used in the cultic sphere. Thus, by using Hebrew, the Tannaitic Sages show to themselves and others that they belong to the faithful seed within Israel. Moreover, the use of Hebrew may also have political implications; by showing that they faithfully carry on the religious traditions, they acquired the legitimacy to function as the spiritual leaders of the Jewish nation. Secondly, applying Silverstein’s accommodating theory, I suggest that the Hebrew language was used as a “purpositive privacy function of speech” which further contributed to social demarcation in Jewish society. As already suggested, 156

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the Priests were probably using Hebrew as the professional language pertaining to the Temple and its cult. It is most likely that the Priests developed a technique of discourse that relied on professional terminology and categories with a specific meaning and context known only to participants. By the same token, the Tannaitic Sages used Hebrew to develop their own technique of discourse when performing their religious activities pertaining to beit ha’midrash and other social locations. Consequently, the Tannaitic Sages could better demarcate their social status in the cultural setting of their own society. Primordial identities in exchange for socio-religious benefit Did the Sages relinquish some of their primordial identities for socioreligious benefits? My examination of the identity of the group of the Sages throughout this monograph discloses a consistent attitude of dissociating from diacritical features connected with the Greco-Roman culture, such as participating at social milieus like circuses, amphitheaters, or stadiums, dressing in the Greek manner, the usage of Greek names, and many other components. However, there are two diacritical features that the Sages overtly rejected in principle, but were willing to negotiate for the sake of socio-religious benefits. (i) The Sages forbade cutting the hair in the Roman style: These are the matters which constitute the way of the Amorites. He who trims his hair in the Komi style (t. Shabbat 6.1; cf. Sifra Acharei Mot, Parashah 13.9).

The gentiles had a distinctive custom of trimming their hair in a Komi style. The Komi haircut refers to trimming the front of the head (this includes shaving the hair from ear to ear over the top of the head) while leaving the hair behind to grow long. (ii) After the destruction of the Temple, the Sages strongly admonished fathers not to teach their sons Greek. In the war against Titus they decreed … and that man should not teach Greek to his son (m. Sotah 9.14).

However, there were exceptions to these rules, as demonstrated in the following text. One who cuts his hair in a Komi style is [imitating] the ways of the Amorites. Abtolomos bar Reuben was permitted to cut his hair in the Komi style because he was close to the [Roman] monarchy. [The members] of the Rabban Gamaliel II household were permitted to speak Greek wisdom because they were close to the [Roman] monarchy (b. Baba Qamma 83a; cf. t. Sotah 15.8; b. Sotah 49b). 157

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The story above describes two figures from within the group of the Sages who were permitted to behave in a different manner from the group in general. Accordingly, a certain man called Abtolomos bar Reuben was permitted to cut his hair in the Komi style after the fashion of the Greco-Roman culture. Likewise, Rabban Gamaliel II, who represents the house of the Patriarch and his household, was given special permission to teach his children Greek (t. Sotah 15.8). The Sages justified making an exception in their case because they were associated with the Roman government. By adopting the Komi fashion of the Roman authorities or speaking the language of the Roman empire, these figures could improve their relations with the Roman authorities, which in turn would improve the political situation of the Jewish nation. The Sages’ willingness to downplay part of their primordial identities for social and political benefits brings to mind the theory of the social anthropologist Geertz (1973; 1994) regarding primordial identities and civil politics in micro-macro contexts. Geertz defines a primordial group as a group based on primordial identities such as language, religion, race, assumed blood, and custom. Furthermore, Geertz argues that the dialectical tension between the particular and universal need can lead to opposite reactions: the primordial group can either confront the greater state by refusing to negotiate its primordial ties or it can cooperate. In the process of cooperation, the members of the group are willing to give up some of their particular primordial identities, such as language or other particular features, to gain political influence, e.g. religious freedom and material wealth. From the above observation, I suggest that in both of the above cases the group of the Priests and the group of the Sages were willing to forgo some of their primordial identities in order to cooperate with the Roman empire for the sake of political and economic stability and religious autonomy. Moreover, it is highly likely that the aristocrats within these two groups would enjoy these privileges.

Basic value system The second order of cultural features according to Barth’s distinction refers to the world view of the group, which includes values, norms, moral principles, ideology, specific practices or beliefs, and common interests. Most of these features were already been discussed elsewhere in this chapter I will mention them briefly and highlight other elements: (i) The world view of the Sages as evidenced in Josephus, the New Testament, and the Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature included belief in the immortality of the soul, the resurrection of the body, and the rewards and punishments of the soul after death. 158

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(ii) Ritual purity and impurity. (This issue will be further discussed in chapter 5.) (iii) The centrality of Torah study. The centrality of Torah study One of the dominant features which characterized the group of the Sages is their involvement in the tradition of the law. Our inquiry has revealed that there is a metaphorical interdependence between the Sages and the tradition of the law as shown in Mishna Abot. The group of the Sages, on the one hand, perceived themselves as guardians and teachers of the law whose main task was to transmit the law handed down to them by their forefathers to the next generation. On the other hand, the written law is the source from which the Sages derived their legitimacy as a distinct social group and their superiority in the social hierarchy of Jewish society. Moreover, the importance of the law is constantly stressed in the Tannaitic literature in various ways: (i) Its value and its practice permeate all aspects of social life. (For a detailed discussion see Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2001.) (ii) The importance of the law is expressed in the abundant use of metaphor; the Torah is referred to, for example, as a source of life, light, rain, fire, etc. (Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2001). (iii) The importance of Torah is articulated by comparison with other values that were important to the Sages: These are things, the fruit of which a person enjoys in this world, while the principal remains for him in the world to come: (1) honoring his father and mother, (2) [performance of] righteous deeds, (3) and bringing peace between a man and his fellow. But the study of Torah is as important as all of them together (m. Peah 1.1).

The halakhah mentions different values of importance to the Sages, such as honoring one’s father and mother, rendering kindness, and bringing peace between a man and his fellow; nevertheless, it underscores that the study of Torah exceeds them all. (iv) The importance of Torah study is highlighted by comparing it with the Temple and its cult. After the destruction of the Temple, the value of studying the Torah gradually achieved greater importance than the Temple and the cult. Moreover, the Sage and his teaching replaced the Temple and its cult. This issue will be dealt with elsewhere (cf. chapter 5); however, I will mention some examples: the Sage and his teaching is compared to the Temple and its cult, the study of Torah atones for sins, a Sage who studies the Torah is preferable to sacrifices and offerings in the Temple, etc. (For a detailed examination and sources, see Rosenfeld 1997b.) 159

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So far, I have highlighted some of the major indicators of the importance of Torah study to the Sages. The evidence below is most illuminating, since it contains the world view of the Sages in several dimensions, encompassing their values, norms, moral principles, ideology, and specific practices. Let us examine it: Greater is [learning] the law than Priesthood or Kingship; for kingship is acquired by thirty virtues and the priesthood by twenty-four; but [learning] the law by fortyeight. They are: (1) by study, (2) by hearing of the ear, (3) by the ordering of the lips, (4) by the understanding of the heart, (5) by the discernment of the heart, (6) by awe, (7) by reverence, (8) by humility, (9) by cheerfulness, (10) by attendance on the Sages, (11) by consorting with fellow-students (Haverim), (12) by close arguments with Disciples, (13) by assiduity, (14) by [knowledge of] Scripture, (15) by [knowledge of] Mishna, (16) by moderation in sleep (17) by moderation in conversation (18) by moderation of pleasure, (19) by moderation of jesting, (20) by moderation in sexual activity (21) by long suffering, (22) by a good heart, (23) by faith in the Sages, (24) by submission to sorrows, (25) [by being] one that recognize his place, (26) [by] rejoicing in his lot, (27) and [being one that] makes a fence around his words (28) and that claims no merit for himself, (28) [by being one that is] beloved, (29) that loves God, (30) that loves mankind, (31) that loves well-doing, (32) that loves reproof, (33) that loves rectitude, (34) that shuns honor (35) and boasts not of his learning, (36) and delights not in making decisions, (37) that helps his fellow to bear his yoke, (37) and that judges him favorably, (38) and that establishes him in the truth, (39) and establishes him in peace (40) and that occupies himself assiduously in his study, (41) [by being one] that asks (42) and answers, (43) that hearkens and adds thereto, (44) that learns in order to teach (45) and that learns in order to practice, (46) that makes his teacher wiser, (47) that retells exactly what he has heard (48) and reports a statement in the name of him that said it (m. Abot 6.5–6).

The supremacy of the Torah in comparison with the Priesthood and the Kingship is that whereas the Priesthood is acquired by twenty-four excellences (cf. chapter 2, pp. 46–47) and Kingship is acquired by thirty excellences, the mastery of Torah exceeds them all, with forty eight virtues. It should be noted, that the numbers used here are typological numbers, meaning they are not true numbers, denoting true facts, but are used in a symbolical or archetypical manner in order to illuminate the text (cf. Bar-Ilan 2003).37 It is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss the meaning of these symbolical numbers, however, I suggest that the number forty eight is used here simply to demonstrate the advantage of the Torah over Kingship and Priesthood. Moreover, it is worth noting that this notion appears elsewhere using crown as a metaphor. 37

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Bar-Ilan notes that the number refers to the forty eight prophets, forty eight Priestly and Levitical courses, and forty eight cities of refuge (Bar-Ilan 2003:182). However, the symbolism of the number forty eight is obscure.

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According to Sifre Numbers 119 there are three crowns; the crown of Torah, the crown of Priesthood, and the crown of Kingship, however, the crown of Torah is superior to the rest since the two other crowns derive exclusively from that of Torah. (For extensive discussion concerning the meaning of the three crowns see S. Cohen 1990.) Before examining the world view of the Sages as reflected in the list of forty eight “excellences,” the notion of comparison brings to mind several interrelated social mechanisms which contribute to the formation of the social identity of the Sages: (1) Through the process of comparisons of this sort, the Sages are able to maintain group boundaries. What is of interest to us is that the identification of the group of the Sages is with the study of Torah alone, whereas the Priests who are identified with the Temple and its cult, are explicitly distinguished from the group of the Sages. In other words, those who represent the priesthood are identified as significant others. This notion further strengthens the idea that although there were Sages from a priestly background, the group of the Sage is distinct from the group of the Priests. (2) In the process of comparison with other relevant social categories, the aim of differentiation is to achieve group superiority over significant others, in this case, the group of the Priests. This observation brings to mind the social identity theory of the social psychologists Tajfel and Turner, who maintain that members of the in-group strive for a positive social identity by engaging in social comparison with other groups. They stress, however, that the in-group does not compare itself with every available group, but only with the out-group that is perceived as a significant comparison group: “In-groups do not compare themselves with every cognitively available out-group: the out-group must be perceived as a relevant comparison group” (Tajfel and Turner 1979:41; cf. Tajfel 1978; 1979; Turner 1975). Moreover, the criteria for determining whether the out-group is sufficiently “compatible” are similarity, proximity, and a situation of mutual comparison based on shared values. Their idea coincides with Barth’s theory mentioned earlier, that in the process of creating group boundaries, social groups that have a common culture and history will seek both in themselves and in the members of the out-group certain features that can be used either to unite them or separate them (Barth 1969). Accordingly, I suggest that in the process of group interaction with significant others who shared similar cultural features, the identification of the Sages with the value of Torah study is intensified in order to demarcate their group boundary. (3) The notion that the group of the Sages constituted the counter-hegemony is revealed by their custom of attributing to themselves superiority in the social structure over other social categories such as the Priests and Kings, who constituted the cultural hegemony of Jewish society for many generations. The 161

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radical declaration that Torah has a higher attribution than priesthood and all it represents is an act of subversion. The public hegemonic discourse which belongs to the dominant group is challenged by the oppositional group, which offers a counter discourse that aims to alter the social hierarchy of its society. In other words, the value of Torah study does not only constitute the social identity of the group, but is used as a vehicle of revolutionary transformation of consciousness in Jewish society for generations to come. I will now turn to the text. Earlier, I suggested that the forty-eight “excellences” specified above reflect the world view of the Sages. It is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss in detail the values cherished by the group of the Sages, therefore I will concentrate on the main ideas expressed in the text. The values listed above can be divided into two major categories: (i) Universal codes of ethics and norms that express the ideal lifestyle, such as discipline and obedience, humility, the performance of good deeds, diligence, the love of God and mankind, humility, and refraining from worldly occupation. (ii) Particularistic codes of behavior intimately related to the particular lifestyle of beit ha’midrash, involving the relationship between the Master and his Disciples, such as Torah study, attending the Sages, belonging to the association (Havura), discussing and disputing halakhic issues with other Disciples, the encouragement of the Disciple to challenge his Master intellectually, retelling and teaching the halakhot of his Master, and reporting the knowledge taught in the name of his Master. (This issue is discussed at length in chapter 3, pp. 185–192.)

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INTERDEPENDENCY OF THE GROUP OF THE TANNAITIC SAGES

Interdependency within the group refers to the interactions and influences within a collection of individuals who associate with each other on a regular basis. The interaction of the members of the group is structured by certain roles and status. The social anthropologist Gluckman (1965) suggested that group integration is highly dependent on a wide range of in-group cooperation that includes different social activities, solidarity, and group affiliation that are manifested in different social locations. He wrote: “The more members of the groups are associated with one another through a variety of ties, linking different sets of persons, the more integrated the group becomes” (ibid. 115). Gluckman based his conclusion on observation of data from many anthropological fieldworks which point in the same direction — that a social group may achieve group integration from the commitment of its members. The task is to explore the network of interdependency that existed between the members of the group of the Sages and the quality of cooperation that was practiced in such an exclusive assemblage.

The social network of the group of the Sages Generally speaking, the evidence examined throughout this monograph indicates that the Sages often interacted outside the formal institutions (the Sanhedrin, the local court, and beit ha’midrash). They spent their leisure time at the banquet house and the bath house. They visited each other; they were invited to family celebrations of their colleagues, such as marriage rites. (This topic has already been discussed under “the banquet house”; cf. j. Sanhedrin 2.5, 20c-d; j. Berakhot 6.5, 10c.) They attended the funerals of Sages or the relatives of Sages. (This topic will be discussed shortly.) Moreover, we are told that members of the group often visited one another on Sabbath and holidays. Let us first look at some of the cases below: 163

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1. R. Yossi said: “Once it happened that R. Halafta went to Rabban Gamaliel II in Tiberias and found him seated at the table of Johanan ben Nezif. In his hand was the scroll of Job in Targum, which he was reading” (t. Shabbat 13.2; cf. m. Kilayim 6.4; t. Erubin1.2; t. Maaserot 2.1). 2. Said R. Yehudah: “We were dwelling in the courtyard of the house of Geludah in Lydda, and we were cooking a pot of lentils. Someone standing at the gate of the alleyway was saying: ‘I effect acquisition for you through the pot of lentils’” (t. Erubin 6.2; cf. t. Erubin 6.4). 3. Said Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince]: “When we were coming — I and Elazar ben R. Zadok — to visit R. Johanan ben Nuri in Beit She‘arim, we would eat figs and grapes outside the Tabernacle house” (t. Sukkah 2.2).

The suggestion that the Sages frequently interacted at a variety of gatherings leads me to infer the following: they were committed to each other and the informal gatherings indicates this. The informal meetings on Sabbath and holidays were often used to discuss current issues of halakhic matters. Gift exchange and altruism Interdependency, as Gluckman pointed out, not only encourages a high level of interaction within the group, but also allows its members to distribute resources within the group and encourages them to practice mutual altruism through mutual obligations. In other words, members of the group are entitled to expect assistance from their colleagues with goods and services. This idea confirms Mauss’ theory of gifts. Mauss’ (1990) significant contribution to the issue of reciprocity is to demonstrate that the agents who participate in the process of the exchange of gifts are obliged to give gifts, and in return are obligated to repay them and redistribute them in various forms of payments. Moreover, he pointed out that the exchange of gifts is restricted not only to material items, but also includes the exchange of favors (cf. Malinowski 1922). This idea coincides with the general notion that the Sages would often intervene in each other’s lives and would provide assistance in private affairs.. In the following, I will focus on three aspects that illustrate my point of view, namely the practice of groomsmen, funeral and mourning rites, and the network of kinship and marriage ties. Later, I will examine other aspects of altruism in chapter 3, pp. 185–192.

Network of reciprocal help with respect to the practice of groomsmen One of the issues which clearly expresses the idea of altruism is the practice of groomsmen. The Tannaitic sources reveal that the group of Sages elaborated a highly structured system of reciprocal help with respect to wedding 164

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arrangements among their members. The idea was that the groom received gifts from his friends to cover the wedding expenses, and the groom was expected to return these “gifts” to his friends when they got married. This practice of gift rotation, as we shall see in the following cases, became a formal norm that was anchored in various halakhic stipulations: Brothers, some of whom made a groomsmen’s gift [at their father’s expense] while their father was alive [and after the father’s death] the groomsmen’s gift returned to them, it has returned to the common fund. For the groomsmen’s gift [is deemed a loan and] is recovered in court. But he who sends his fellow jugs of wine and oil [in his father’s life time] they are not recoverable in court, because they count as a charitable deed (m. Baba Batra 9.4).

Rubin (2004) reveals that the marriage rite was conducted in the house of the groom’s father. This meant that it was the responsibility of the father of the groom to cover the costs. It was also customary for the groomsmen to send their gifts to the groom on the day of the wedding, and by so doing they helped to cover the wedding expenses. Thus, the more the groomsmen gave, the easier it was to finance the wedding arrangements. The above halakhah describes a situation in which the brothers send a gift from the property of their father while the father is still alive. The halakhah stipulates that if the groom returned the gift to one of the brothers on his wedding day and his father is no longer alive, then the gift is to be shared among the brothers, since the brother who is getting married did not send the gift from his own property but from the family’s shared property. The Mishna further stipulates that the groomsman who sent a gift but did not receive a gift in return on his wedding day can take legal action and demand compensation. This custom reveals that the groomsman’s “gift” is considered as a loan to be repaid in the fullness of time (cf. Albeck 1958, Mishna, Baba Batra 9.4). Rubin highlights that the practice of the groomsman’s gift was not spontaneous but part of a highly structured custom which was eventually institutionalized with well-specified norms. The case below will serve to illustrate this point of view: [if] one had served as a groomsman for him in public and he wants to serve for him in secret he has the right to say to him: “Just as you did it for me in public, so I will do the same for you in public.” [if] he had acted as groomsman for him in the case of a virgin, and he wants him to do the same for him in the case of a widow, he has the right to say to him: “Just as you did for me I will do for you with a virgin.” [if] he had acted as groomsman for him in the case on one woman and he wants him to do the same for him with two women he has the right to say to him when marrying yet another woman, I will bring you [a gift for both occasions]” (t. Baba Batra 10.9; cf. t. Baba Batra 10.10). 165

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As we see, the network of reciprocal help intended to cover the costs of the wedding is anchored in well-defined codes of behavior, the guiding principle of which is that when the groom receives gifts from his friends he is expected to reciprocate with a gift when his friends eventually marry (Rubin 2004:228–233). Although we hear a great deal about the way in which the network of reciprocal help was organized, the Tannaitic sources do not provide us with concrete examples from the Sages. However, we do find these examples in the Amoraitic literature; for example, R. Abahu testified about himself that he was best man at the wedding of R. Simeon bar Abba (j. Berakhot 2.6, 5b). In another place it is mentioned by R. Ba Zabeda that the groomsmen and all who share in the marriage canopy are exempt from the religious duty of dwelling in the Sukkah38 (j. Sukkah 2.4, 53a). R. Bibi testifies that he was a groomsman for another Sage (b. Qiddushin 81a; cf. b. Ketubot 77b).

Network of reciprocal help with respect to funeral and mourning rites The network of reciprocal help was also reflected with respect to mourning and funeral rites. Earlier, I pointed out that during the Tannaitic period it was primarily the obligation of the family to participate in the rites of mourning and to assist with the funeral arrangements, such as the rending of garments as a sign of mourning for the dead person. The relatives of the deceased were required to rend their garments to expose one of their shoulders; they had to walk before the bier on which the corpse or the coffin rested, as a sign of mourning. Moreover, during the seven days of mourning, it was primarily the obligation of the relatives of the deceased to bring the meal of comfort to the mourners’ house. They were also given wine containing frankincense in order to ease their sorrow (cf. Semachot 12.5; ibid. 2.9). The Tannaitic sources reveal that members of the group participated in the mourning rites and offered practical help with respect to burial and memorial arrangements, such as digging a grave for the dead person, or procuring a shroud for someone who had just died, or enabling a relative to come from another place to the funeral (Semachot 11.1). Moreover, we are told that they also delivered a funeral oration over him, stood in a row, and read the benediction of mourners for the dead person, etc. (cf. Semachot 2.1). In other words, the members of the group are committed to their fellows in the same manner that family members are obligated to one another. 38

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In the following, I will examine four relevant case studies which illustrate the various ways by which the members of the group showed group solidarity with respect to funeral arrangements and mourning rites: When R. Eliezer fell ill, according to tradition it was the Sabbath-eve. R. Aqiba and his colleagues came to visit him … and he was sitting in his canopied four-poster and they were sitting in his anteroom … then the Sages perceived that his mind was clear, they entered, sat at a distance of four cubits away from him, and enquired of him … He replied [to many of the questions] declaring the unclean to be unclean and the clean to be clean until with the word “clean” [on his lips] his soul departed. At once R. Elazar ben Azaria tore his clothes and wept. He went out to the Sages and said: “Come, my Masters, and behold R. Eliezer who is clean for the world to come, because his soul departed with the world ‘clean’ [upon his lips].” After the Sabbath R. Aqiba set out and encountered [his Master’s] bier as it proceeded from Caesarea to Lydda. At once he tore his garments and plucked his hair and [beat his breast] his blood flowed to the ground. He cried and wept: “Woe is me! I grieve for you my Master! Woe is me! I mourn for you, my teacher who left his whole generation orphaned!” As they stood in a row he began his funeral oration (ARN/A 25).

The interdependency between R. Eliezer and his associates is strongly articulated in the story above. When the close associates of R. Eliezer realize that their Master is seriously ill, they take one final opportunity to clarify unresolved halakhic issues with respect to ritual purity and impurity. When R. Eliezer finally dies, the grief of his Disciples is manifested by various ritual forms of mourning and memorial rites, such as weeping and rending the garments, beating the breast, plucking the hair, standing in a row before the bier on which R. Eliezer was laid, and reading the mourners’ benediction for R. Eliezer. Moreover, the intimacy between R. Eliezer and his associates is further manifested by R. Aqiba, who strongly verbalizes his personal grief over the death of his Master; by using the metaphor orphans, he evokes the strongest family ties between parents and their children. Thus, by comparing the association to orphans he shows the great dependency of the group on their Master and the enormous vacuum he left after his death. The narrative thus reveals that the close associates of R. Eliezer were emotionally involved in his death, and their commitment is demonstrated by their participation in both the mourning rites and the funeral arrangements. Let us now look at the next case study: When the son of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai died, his Disciples came in to console him. R. Eliezer came and sat before him and said: “My Master, is it your wish that I say a word in your presence?” He replied to him: “Speak.” Thereupon he said: “Adam, the first man, had a son who died, and he accepted condolence. For it is stated, And Adam knew his wife again. Therefore you too also accept condolence”… Then R. Joshua entered and said: “My Master, is it your wish that I say a word in your presence?” He replied to him: “Speak” … Next R. Yossi [the Priest] entered, sat before him and said: 167

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“My Master is it your wish that I say a word in your presence?” He replied to him: “Speak” … Then R. Simeon [ben Natanel] entered and said: “My Master, is it your wish that I say a word in your presence?” He replied: “Speak” … R. Elazar ben Arach entered and said: “Let me tell you a parable” (ARN/A 14).

We are told that when the son of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai died his Disciples came to visit him. Each Disciple took the initial responsibility of comforting his Master in his own way. The above story demonstrates that by taking active part in the mourning rites and offering their condolences, the members of the group are displaying mutual altruism by providing physical support and affirming that the mourner, in this case Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, is not left alone but is receiving the emotional assistance he is entitled to expect from his fellows (cf. Rubin 1997:214). This idea is further confirmed in the subsequent story about Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, who was dying: When Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai was about to depart from this world, he wept aloud. His Disciples said to him: “Master! Exalted pillar! Light of the world! Mighty Hammer! Why do you weep? He told them … I am about to face God Almighty if he is angry with me, his anger is in this world and in the next world and I can’t appease or bribe him with money. Furthermore, there are two paths before me one to paradise and one to purgatory and I don’t know if he decrees me to purgatory or lets me into paradise” (ARN/A 25; cf. b. Berakhot 28b).

Here again, the story of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai exemplifies the interdependency between the Master and his Disciples. The intimacy is articulated by the openness of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, who expresses his deep anxiety and trepidation before his Disciples. The Disciples, for their part, search for words of comfort to provide emotional support for their Master in his time of need. It is related that when R. Eliezer’s female slave died, his Disciple came to comfort him … And when Tabi the slave of Rabban Gamaliel II died, he received condolence for him (Semachot 1.10; cf. m. Berakhot 2.7).

The last case study above demonstrates that the members of the group are encouraged to participate in the mourning rites of their fellows even when they are mourning for their slaves, as indicated in the examples of two prominent leaders, namely R. Eliezer and Rabban Gamaliel II, who were comforted by their fellows while mourning for their slaves. The case studies presented so far, clearly illustrate that the social context of mourning rites creates a meaningful framework for group solidarity. By actively participating in the process of grieving for the person who was dying or consoling the member who was mourning his lost ones, the members of the group re-affirm the mutual altruism practiced by the Sages (cf. Rubin 1997:52). 168

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Another aspect worth mentioning is the specific ritual codes of behavior relating to mourning rites that the Sages are committed to perform on behalf of their colleagues in beit ha’midrash: When a Sage dies, in his academy they change their seats, all other academies continue. When an Av beit din dies, all his academies cease their studies and other academies change their place. When a president dies, all academies cease their studies (Semachot 10.13).

The correspondence between the ritual forms and the hierarchical structure of the Sages is vividly expressed in beit ha’midrash. The higher the status of the person within their ranks the stronger their expression.

Network of kinship and marriage ties It has already been indicated that nepotism was widespread among the the group of the Sages (see chapter 5). I will mention briefly that my examination reveals that a large percentage of the group of the Sages was composed of the “son of the Sages” and the “son of the Disciple of the Sages” and that a Sage often transferred his office to his son; the “instruction of Torah” was a profession like any other and was passed on from father to son, which reinforces the idea of the practice of nepotism among the Sages (Alon 1977:436–457). Moreover, additional archaeological evidence, as stated by Z. Safrai, reveals that 60 per cent of the Sages buried in the necropolis at Beit She‘arim are the sons or the fathers of prominent Sages (Z. Safrai, unpublished: “Judaism Outside Beit Ha’midrash”). Secondly, members of the group of the Sages were also interconnected through marriage ties. There is considerable evidence in Talmudic literature of intermarriage among the Sages. Levine writes that the Disciples of the Sages often married the daughters of their Masters. For example, Rabban Gamaliel the Elder married his daughter to Simeon ben Natanel the Priest who was a Disciple of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai (t. Abodah Zarah 3.10; cf. m. Abot 2.8; b. Baba Mesia 59b).39 Thus, the custom of marriage within the group was common in the circle of the Sages. Levine adds that this custom was applied even to second marriages, such as the widows or divorcees of other members of the group of the Sages (Levine 1989:58; cf. Shremer 2003:176).

39

The widespread practice of intermarriage is seen in several places in Talmudic literature. For example, Resh Laqish married the sister of his teacher-colleague, R. Johanan (b. Baba Mesia 84b). 169

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THE ORGANIZATION OF THE GROUP OF THE SAGES

One of the main features that distinguishes a social group from a temporary gathering is the ability of the group to develop a highly structured organization (A. Cohen 1974; Keesing 1981). There are several indications that the group of the Sages conceived of themselves as formally organized; they had training arrangements and various regulations and norms, especially with respect to the relation between the Master and his student; they had an established hierarchal system; they used different honorific titles to signify a member’s position and status in the group; they had a network of cooperation, appointments of leaders, authority figures, etc. It should be underlined, however, that there is a scholarly debate as to whether the self-ascription of the Sages as an organized group is evenemental history or based on invented tradition. In view of this, it is important to emphasize that the task undertaken here is first and foremost not to verify the authenticity of these ascriptions but to provide evidence which demonstrates how the self-image of the Sages as a highly organized group is portrayed. Consequently, I will explore the various components mentioned above in their natural setting, which expresses the different levels of organization that are utilized by the group of the Sages. Before examining the different components mentioned above, I need to ask a preliminary question, namely when was the group of the Tannaitic Sages formally organized?

The chronological framework of the Tannaitic Sages Talmudic scholars agree that the group of the Sages was formally organized during the period of Jabneh (Alon 1989:226; Urbach 1975:593; and others). Urbach commented as follows: “In the world of the Sages in the days of the Second Temple until the time of Hillel we find no bureaucratic organization, no system whatsoever of appointment, no promotion, no payment, and in truth, no training arrangements or definition of functions” (ibid. 593). Z. Safrai argues 170

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in the same spirit and states that the idea of hierarchy among the Sages is decisively post–70. This notion is manifested by the fact that the usage of the honorifics “Rabbi” (my teacher) or “Rabban” (our teacher) appeared for the first time during the generation of Jabneh. Before we continue, it is important for us not to overlook the fact that Jesus was addressed as “Rabbi” by his Disciples, as recounted in the NT sources. In order to solve this discrepancy, Alon suggested that the honorific is used differently by the Disciples of Jesus and the Tannaitic Sages; in the case of Jesus, it is a “form of address” (‘my teacher’), whereas in the case of the Sages, it is a title which implies they were ordained (Alon 1989:226, n. 51). (The issue of ordination will be discussed shortly.) Moreover, the suggestion that the titles are post–70 is strengthened by the fact that neither the last pairs, Hillel and Shammai, nor Honi Ha’meagel, all prominent figures who lived prior to the destruction of the Temple, are addressed with the title “Rabbi” or “Rabban.” This fact, Alon argued, is contrary to the frequency of use of these appellations by the Sages who lived during the period of Jabneh and later, such as Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel, Rabban Gamaliel the Elder, R. Tarfon, R. Haninah ben Dosa, and R. Meir. This is further supported by archaeological evidence. The epigraphical inscriptions assembled by S. J. D. Cohen (1981b) reveal that the inscriptions in the tombs which bear the title “Rabbi” or “Rabban” date to the period after 70 C.E., whereas there are no inscriptions from the period of the Second Temple which bear the title “Rabbi” or “Rabban”; they use other formal Greek titles such as didascalos, gramtos, archon, archisynagogues, or presbyters.40 Furthermore, using the “honorific” as a decisive indication of the periodization of the Tannaitic Sages is supported by Mishnaic sources. The evidence below is most valuable since it provides us with a wealth of information about two intimately related topics, namely the chronological framework of the Tannaitic Sages and the criteria by which authority figures within the group are regarded as qualified. When R. Meir died, makers of parables came to an end. When ben Azzai died, diligent students came to an end. When ben Zoma died, exegetes came to an end. When R. Joshua died, goodness went away from the world. When Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel died, the locusts came, and troubles multiplied. 40

It should be noted that the examination of S. J. D. Cohen led him to a different conclusion. He argues that the empirical findings reveal that the title Rabbi does not exclusively refer to the Rabbis of the Talmud but that was a popular designation which could refer to individuals in high positions. He concludes that the term Rabbi: “Was a popular title which could describe individuals who were not part of that Hebrew and Aramaic-speaking society which produced the Talmud” (S. J. D. Cohen 1981b:16). 171

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When R. Elazar ben Azariah died, wealth went away from the Sages. When R. Aqiba died, the glory of the Torah came to an end. When R. Haninah ben Dosa died, wonder workers came to an end. When R. Yossi Qatnuta died, pietists went away … When Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai died, the splendor of wisdom came to an end. When Rabban Gamaliel the Elder died, the glory of the Torah came to an end and cleanness and separateness perished. When R. Ishmael ben Phabi died, the splendor of the priesthood came to an end. When Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] died, modesty and fear of sin came to an end (m. Sotah 9.15).

The Tanna lists names of prominent rabbinic leaders within the ranks of the Tannaitic Sages and gives reason why these leaders are legitimized as competent authority figures. As we shall see in a moment, the list of their intrinsic qualities and exemplary behavior does not necessarily reflect a historical reality, but rather nostalgia for the past, the world view, ideology, and lifestyle of the group. This list grants us a glimpse into the world of the Sages and and their values; for example, they highly esteem values, such as wisdom, goodness, and modesty. Their lifestyle is also reflected: e.g. ritual purity, separateness, piety, having diligent students and increasing Torah study, creating good exegeses and parables.41 Moreover, material wealth and prosperity are not shunned by them. In one case we learn indirectly that the period of Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel was a prosperous one since he was able to prevent scourges such as natural catastrophies that could affect the entire nation, e.g. locusts. From the above, I conclude that the appointment of these leaders is legitimized by their intrinsic character and their exemplary behavior, which coincides with the world view of the Sages. In addition, the characteristics of the world view of the Sages manifested in the above list correspond to the examination undertaken earlier (cf. chapter 3, pp. 141–162). Furthermore, the attentive reader will note that the list marks the beginning and the end of the Tannaitic period; it contains the first authority figure, Ishmael ben Phabi and the last, Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince]. In other words, the group of the Tannaitic Sages as an organized group extended from the last decades of the Second Temple until around 220 C.E. Moreover, if we take the evidence above as a historical source, it undermines to some extent the suggestion by Alon, Urbach, and Z. Safrai that the organization of the group came to full expression during the period of Jabneh. However, this raises a methodological problem, namely how are we to mark the beginning and end of a period? It is beyond the scope of this monograph to discuss this problem in full, however, I will mention briefly some guiding principles from 41

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Furthermore, we cannot overlook the fact that the priesthood is also mentioned here. However, priesthood in this case is related to a specific figure, R. Ishmael ben Phabi, who was indeed High Priest during the last decades of the Second Temple.

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the literary discipline. Scholars believe that the process of marking a period is indeed artificial; periods are not created in a mechanical way; there are “before” and “after” events or causes which contribute to the establishment of a certain period and often seem as though they were part of the period. Therefore, it is often difficult to define when a period starts and ends; however, there are some organizing principles which might help us define a period, such as characteristic features, radical changes that occur at the same time in different fields, or the period might have its own dynamic and context.42 Applying these principles to the examination of our sources I conclude that the group of the Tannaitic Sages came to full bloom as an organized group in the period of Jabneh, but first sprouted in the last decades of the Second Temple.

Honorific titles within the ranks of the Sages Status and honor were not absent in the world of the Sages. On the contrary, the members of the group were addressed by different appellations which signified their role and status in the inner hierarchy of the group. In the following, I will briefly present some of the main honorific titles and their significance in the world of the Sages: Nasi [the Patriarch] — Talmudic sources indicate that the Patriarch had three main functions: (a) leader of the Jewish community and its spokesman, (b) president of the Sanhedrin, and (c) the head of the great Academy (Alon 1989:316). However, there is an ongoing scholarly debate relating to the office of the Patriarch, based on Talmudic literature. Some of the disagreements revolve around the following questions: When exactly was the Patriarch granted official recognition by the Roman empire? Did it start with the office of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, Rabban Gamaliel II, or his son Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel? And to what extent was religious and political autonomy granted to the Patriarch by the Roman empire? Some reject the notion that Rabban Gamaliel II received recognition from the Roman empire, and some dispute whether the title was actually used or was only a later addition. (For extensive discussion and bibliography see Goodblatt 197843 and for a recent examination with updated bibliography see Shapira 1999.) I would argue in passing that there are several indications that the political recognition was initially given during the tenure of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, and was institutionalized during the tenure of Rabban Gamaliel II in terms of religious and political autonomy 42 43

I wish to thank Dr. Gidron-Albeck for her comment. In his earlier article, Goodblatt (1978) was convinced that Rabban Gamaliel II was granted official recognition by the Roman government, whereas two decades later, he reached the opposite conclusion that Rabban Gamaliel II did not officiate as Patriarch. This subject will be discussed in chapter 3, pp. 192–197 (cf. Goodblatt 1994:251–255). 173

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(cf. chapter 3, pp. 216–218). The assumption that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai received political recognition is deduced from the following observations: four Talmudic sources mention his meeting with Vespasian. Although these sources have later additions and a mythical quality, nevertheless, it is most probable that the two leaders did meet. The idea that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai was an adequate representative of the Jewish nation is based on the fact that he represented the school of Hillel, whose political attitude favored cooperation with the Roman empire. Moreover, we may assume that the meeting between the two was extremely productive and resulted in permission to build a new study center at Jabneh and have a certain religious and political autonomy. Rabban [our teacher] — some scholars suggest that this honorific refers to a person who officiated as Patriarch and was the highest ranking person in the group of the Sages. The appellation, as indicated in Tannaitic sources, was accorded to the House of Hillel from the time of Rabban Gamaliel the Elder (ca. 30 C.E.).44 This notion led some scholars to assume that the office of Patriarch was transmitted from father to son, as in the case of the dynasty of Beit Hillel, which belonged to the house of David (for bibliography see Shapira 1999:5, n. 1). Shapira has correctly observed that during the end of the Second Temple period neither Gamaliel the Elder nor his son Simeon ben Gamaliel officiated as the leaders of the Jewish nation; rather it was the High Priests who led the Jewish nation. Therefore the suggestion that Rabban Gamaliel II inherited the office of Nasi from his forefathers is to be rejected. Shapira further argues that Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel was the first to inherit the office from his father, Rabban Gamaliel II, and only from the period of Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] (180–220 C.E.) can we speak of a patriarchal dynasty connected to the house of David (Shapira 1999). Av beit din [Father of the court house] — the Father of the court house succeeded the Patriarch in the ranks of the Sages. The examination of Albeck (1943b) suggests that since the Patriarch was politically involved in communal affairs, he could not participate in all the meetings of the High Court. Consequently, the Father of the court house was appointed head of the court to substitute for the Patriarch when he was absent from these meetings. It should be noted that the functions of the Father of the court house are not clearly defined. Zaqen [the elder] — generally speaking, the term elder contains a broad spectrum of meaning and was reincarnated from biblical times. It is a general term which may refer to the Sages. Moreover, S. Safrai (1957) suggested that the 44

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The status of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai as Patriarch seems to be an exception. Alon suggested that the fact that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai was granted this honor indicates that he was considered a Patriarch although he did not belong to the lineage of Beit Hillel. (For extensive discussion whether Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai officiated as Patriarch see Alon 1977:314–343.)

Mapping the social identity “Sages”

term may refer to a distinguished assembly appointed by the Patriarch himself from within the group of the Sages (ibid. 183–184, n. 6). When the [president] of the Sanhedrin appoints the elders in the Academy below his great name is praised above (Sifre Deuteronomy 346).

Moreover, it has been suggested that the elders constituted a joint leadership with the Patriarch, in this case Rabban Gamaliel II, and that they often traveled with him on his various journeys to Rome and throughout the land. These elders are identified as R. Joshua, R. Elazar ben Azaria, and R. Aqiba. (This issue will be discussed at length in chapter 3, pp. 216–218.) Other sources mention the above elders and others (t. Baba Batra 2.2; t. Berakhot 4. 18; t. Miqvaot 7.11; Sifre Deuteronomy 32; Sifre Deuteronomy 38; Sifre Deuteronomy 41, and others). It is possible that these Sages belong to the next generation, such as R. Tarfon and R. Eliezer ben Horcanos (cf. Rosenfeld 1997a:41). From the examination above, I suggest that the term can refer either to the Sages in general or to the prominent leaders who constituted the inner circle of the Sanhedrin in its various forms and compositions. Moreover, it seems that these elders to some extent constituted the upper stratum of the group of the Sages. (This idea will be further elaborated in the following chapter 3, pp. 216–218.) Rabbi [the teacher] — the title Rabbi is a honorific bestowed on a Sage who has been ordained. As we shall see shortly, a scholar ordained “Rabbi” became a full member of the Great Sanhedrin and the Small Sanhedrin, and a “fellow” in the academy. The candidate had the authority to decide legal cases and to serve as a leader of the community. (For a detailed examination of the process of ordination, see Albeck 1943a.) The suggestion that the designation Rabbi is attached to the practice of ordination has its origin after the destruction of the Temple. This notion is supported by the famous letter of Rav Sherira Gaon: “The designation Rabbi came into use with those who were ordained at that time (from the destruction onwards), R. Zadok and R. Eliezer ben Jacob. The practice spread from the Disciple of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai” (Alon 1989:226). However, I suggest that formally speaking, the ordination of either the Elder or the Rabbi was less “cut and dried” in reality than is indicated by the sources. Talmid hakham [Disciple of the Sage] — the appellation talmid (student or Disciple) refers to the Disciple of a Sage. Alon stressed that in reality many of the Disciples of the Sages were talented scholars who had an academy of their own and taught younger students. Thus, in a sense, they were also considered to be Sages; however, they continued to be referred to as “Disciples of the Sages” until they were ordained Rabbi (Alon 1989:475). S. Safrai articulated a similar idea: “Everyone who was not ordained (‫ )נסמך‬was considered a student; ordination 175

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was not given at the conclusion of studies, but upon appointment to a public office. Some chose to remain students all their life and a number of them were counted among the greatest scholars of their age, for example, Simeon ben Azzai and Simeon ben Zoma of the Jabneh period” (S. Safrai 1976:965; Alon ibid.). I conclude that the title Disciple of a Sage was primarily attached not to intellectual achievement but to ordination for public office. Lehoshiv barosh [to appoint as supervisor] — the meaning is uncertain (cf. Sifre Deuteronomy 17). Mantel suggested that it refers to the teacher appointed at beit ha’midrash (Mantel 1965:206–208). Alon, for his part, suggested that it denotes the appointment of a Sage to the Sanhedrin (Alon 1977:391–400; 1989:228). Likewise, Gafni’s examination further suggests that the term denotes an official appointment of a juridical nature, such as to the court house of the Sanhedrin, and not as Mantel suggested, teaching Torah at the Academy (Gafni 1978; cf. Ben-Shalom 1985). Hakham [Sage] — this appellation was used during the Tannaitic period to refer to the great scholars in the group. It is equivalent to the appellation Zaqen [Elder]. “You should rise up before the hoary head.” Might one suppose that one is obliged to rise up even before a malefactor? Scripture says: “Elder.” An “Elder” refers only to a Sage (Sifra Qedoshim Parashah 7.11).

According to Sifra Qedoshim a Sage/Elder denotes a person who has acquired wisdom. Moreover, it is difficult to determine the chronology of each title, but the crucial point is that there was a ceremonial procedure of ordination. (This issue will be discussed shortly.)

Network of cooperation in the formal institutions According to Tannaitic sources, there are two interrelated focal institutions which constituted the identity of the Sages as the leaders of the Jewish nation and which contributed to their self-ascription as a highly organized group. These institutions are beit ha’midrash, which functioned as the local court and the Small Academy, and the Sanhedrin, which constituted the national High Court and the Great Academy. Moreover, the discrepancy of the portrayal of the Sanhedrin in the sources with respect to its composition and character is one of the most ongoing debates among scholars. As shown elsewhere, the Sanhedrin of Jerusalem included the chief Priests and the elders, and was headed by the High Priest, whereas the Sanhedrin in Jabneh was composed mainly of the Sages and was headed by the Nasi (patriarch) and Av beit din (Father of the court) (cf. chapter 3, pp. 133–135). 176

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Regardless of the problems and confusion caused by the various sources, the primary task is to examine the way in which the Tannaitic Sages describe the Sanhedrin in Jabneh as one of their focal institutions. This is based on the general assumption presented earlier that in the process of interaction-based imitation of the group of the Priests, the Tannaitic Sages sought to create an image of themselves as the legitimate heirs of the Great Sanhedrin in Jerusalem originally presided over by the group of the Priests. (This topic has already been discussed in chapter 3, pp. 126–140.) The Great Sanhedrin in Jabneh as described by the Tannaitic Sages One institution that provided a framework for group cooperation and integration was the Great Sanhedrin. The Sanhedrin is one of the focal institutions in which the Sages could strengthen their own group identity. The institution of the Sanhedrin in the period of Jabneh was an active religious center under the leadership of the Patriarch that eventually became the central national authority (m. Eduyyot 2.4; m. Sanhedrin 11.4; m. Ketubot 4.6). After the destruction of the Temple, there was a geographical transfer; the Great Sanhedrin on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem (t. Sanhedrin 7.1) was moved to Jabneh. Although Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai initiated this transfer, it was only during the period of Rabban Gamaliel II and his court that Jabneh was recognized as the new established religious center. The sources reveal that there was a high concentration of prominent Sages in Jabneh working with Rabban Gamaliel II.45 When the leaders of the local communities had halakhic disagreements of any kind, Jabneh was the highest authority for resolving them (t. Niddah 4.3–4; t. Kilayim 1.3–4; m. Kelim 5.4, t. Rosh Hashanah 2.11). Moreover, the custom of visiting Jerusalem during the three great festivals (Tabernacles, Passover, and Pentecost) is replaced by the custom of visiting Jabneh.46 After the destruction of the Temple, the Sages would travel with their Disciples to Jabneh, where they could discuss and resolve halakhic matters and strengthen the group ties. The newly established custom is confirmed by the following story about the men of Asia who disagreed about a halakhic law and in order to resolve the 45

46

The sources mention prominent Sages who worked alongside Rabban Gamaliel II. For the sake of convenience I will list only some of them: 1. R. Zadok (t. Sanhedrin 8.1); 2. R. Dosa ben Harkinas (m. Rosh Hashanah 2.8); 3. R. Aqiba (t. Berakhot 4.15); 4. R. Johanan ben Nuri (Sifre Deuteronomy 1); 5. R. Al’ai (t. Pesahim 2.15); 6. R. Simeon (m. Sukkah 2.1). According to the tradition in Tosefta, before the destruction of the Temple, the Sages traveled together with their Disciples on the great three festivals to Jerusalem. The Sages and their Disciples assembled in beit ha’midrash on the Temple mount. And on Sabbaths and festivals they gather together in the study house which is located on the Temple Mount (t. Hagigah 2.9). 177

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matter they went up on the great festival to Jabneh, which was considered the legislative authority for solving halakhic problems. [Concerning] this law the men of Asia came up on three festivals to Jabneh. On the third festival they declared it fit for them, temporarily (t. Parah 7.4; cf. m. Pariah 7.6; t. Hullin 3.10; cf. Alon 1989:231; Rosenfeld 1997a:51).

Moreover, the description above evokes the association with the original custom of going up to Jerusalem on the three pilgrim festivals (cf. Rosenfeld 1997b). I suggest that the Sages created a symbolic transformation, replacing Jerusalem, its institutions, i.e. the Temple and the Sanhedrin, and its representative spiritual leaders, i.e. the Priests, with Jabneh and all it represented. The main functions of the Great Sanhedrin in Jabneh The members of the Sanhedrin cooperated in providing joint leadership and direction with regard to public legal actions. The Sanhedrin had essentially three main functions: (a) as a juridical institution; (b) the appointment of office holders and judges; (c) as an Academy for Torah study. 1. The Sanhedrin as a juridical institution From the Talmudic sources it appears that the High Court was a juridical institution where the main tasks were to adjudicate on religio-legal matters; it could impose the death penalty in certain cases and physical punishment or fines in others, as is well depicted in Mishna Sanhedrin. The members of the Sanhedrin also had the authority to stipulate new enactments and legitimize the practice of new customs and norms. 2. The Sanhedrin as a place for ordination and appointments of leaders The Sanhedrin had the authority to confer ordination (semikha, literally “laying” or “leaning” of hands47 or minui — literally “appointment” to office or as a judge) to a scholar who received the title “Rabbi.” A scholar ordained as a “Rabbi” had the authority to adjudicate legal cases and to function as a leader of the community. When he received the title Rabbi, the candidate became a full member of the Great Sanhedrin and the Small Sanhedrin, and a “fellow” in the Academy (Albeck 1943b; Alon 1989:225, 469; Levine 1989:139–142). Nevertheless, scholars disagree as to whether the practice of ordination by the Sanhedrin began after the destruction of the Temple or during the generation of Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] (180–220 C.E.). 47

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It has two meanings, one of which relates to sacrifice; the act was carried out by the owner who laid his hands on the animal before it was sacrificed on the altar. This ceremony often took place in the courtyard of the Temple, the person laid his hands on the animal before it was sacrificed (m. Menahot 9.6–7; b. Menahot 93a-b). The other meaning relates to the appointment of an elder, a judge, or a Rabbi as discussed above.

Mapping the social identity “Sages”

Alon, who based his assumption on a source in the Jerusalem Talmud as will be presented below, suggested that from the destruction until the middle of the second century, ordination was conducted privately by the Master who ordained his Disciples. Thereafter, from the generation of Rabbi, the authority to ordain was vested in the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch (Alon 1977:341–2). Let us examine the source on which he based his suggestion. At first every Sage would ordain his own Disciples; for example, Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai ordained R. Eliezer and R. Joshua. R. Joshua ordained R. Aqiba and R. Aqiba ordained R. Meir and R. Simeon [Bar Yochai] … Subsequently they paid honor to this House [i.e. the Patriarchal Dynasty] declaring that the ordination of a court house without the consent of the Patriarch was invalid, whereas a Patriarch’s ordination without the consent of the court house was valid. Later it was enacted that the court house should ordain only with the approval of the Patriarch and that the Patriarch should ordain only with the assent of the court house (j. Sanhedrin 1.2, 19a).

Although the source above is a late one, it is interesting in the sense that it indicates an inner tension which prevailed between the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch. This issue will be discussed at length shortly. The important point, however, is that the appointments began approximately after the destruction of the Temple and continued during the Tannaitic and Amoraitic period. The above evidence implies that a Sage became a full member of the Great Sanhedrin, a “fellow” in the academy, and a leader of the community. 3. The Sanhedrin as the Great Academy According to Alon, the Sanhedrin was the highest academy for the study of Torah. The main task of the academy was to engage in learned discussion and the exposition of Torah. The study session was lead by the Patriarch, who initiated the topic of study. When the scholars gathered in the Great Academy, both the Masters and the Disciples took part in the discussion led by the Patriarch; however, the Sages participated in the discussion while the Disciples listened. At these gatherings, the Disciples were allowed to ask questions, to comment, or suggest an answer, but they were not allowed to suggest a topic or to hold a discussion (Alon 1989:469–470). Choreographing power within the group of the Sages The group of the Sages is characterized by a clear and defined hierarchical system, which is well marked by a set of rules and tasks often connected to ceremonial honor, as we can see from the following evidence which relates to protocol in the Sanhedrin and to the procedures followed in halakhic discussion or in juridical matters such as capital cases. 179

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The Sanhedrin was set in the shape of a half of a round threshing floor so that they could see one another. The Patriarch sits in the middle, and the Elders sit on his right and on his left hand. R. Elazar ben R. Zadok said: “When Rabban Gamaliel II sat in session in Jabneh, my father and one other were at his right hand, and the elders were at his left hand.” And why does one sit near the Elder on his right? Because of the honor of the Elder (t. Sanhedrin 8.1; cf. m. Sanhedrin 4.3).

According to Tannaitic sources, the Sanhedrin was staged in the shape of a semi-circular threshing floor so that the members should see one another and would recognize their places. Accordingly, the Sanhedrin was composed of 71 ordained Sages who sat in a semi-circle according to their honorific status within the group. The Patriarch sat in the middle and the Elders who constituted the joint leadership of the Patriarch sat on his left and right sides. Next to them sat the Sages who were considered advanced in learning, and at the outer edge of the semi-circle sat the newly appointed Sages. Opposite the Sages sat the Disciples of the Sages: And three rows of Disciples of Sages sit before them. Each and every one knows his place. [if] they found need to ordain [a Disciple to serve on the court], they ordained one who was sitting in the first row (m. Sanhedrin 4.4; t. Sanhedrin 8.2).

The three rows of Disciples of Sages sat before the Small Sanhedrin, which was composed of ordained Sages who sat in the inner circle, as opposed to the Disciples of the Sages who sat in the outer ring. The ritual ceremony was choreographed in a way that the social status of those who participated in the ritual ceremony was symbolically choreographed according to the contemporary social hierarchy of the group. Consequently, the Sages, whose symbols of status was superior to the Disciples of the Sages, sat in the inner ring, which symbolically was closer to the center of power. In other words, the ritual symbols in the Great Academy mirrored the social order of the hierarchy within the group of the Sages. The social anthropologist Kapferer (1988) in his fieldwork in Sri Lanka regarding sorcery rituals of exorcism, became aware of how ritual symbols reflect the world view and social structure of those who partake in the ritual of exorcism. Kapferer noticed that the rituals were choreographed in the same way as the contemporary social hierarchy of the participants and these rites mirrored the social order in everyday practices of the participants. Those who took part in the rituals of exorcism, he explains, were able to “see” the class differentiation of their own society and reflect upon their own position in the hierarchical order. He writes: In effect the patient is now in a condition of originary reconstitution within the hierarchical order of state and society … The Suniyama, and exorcism ritual generally, 180

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often take as patients people in some way central in local order, in a household, in a neighborhood or larger community … The reordering of a person by such rituals is also a reordering of the social and political world of patients and is so conceived by their, families, clients and other associates (ibid. 75–76).

While Kapferer’s analysis sheds light on the High Court’s functioning in a highly choreographed way, the institution of beit ha’midrash requires a different approach. The functions of beit ha’midrash The dual function of beit ha’midrash as a small academy and local court Beit ha’midrash, also called beit va‘ad (cf. t. Megillah 3.5), denotes the small academies (study centers) established by the “Sages of Jabneh” that were widespread in different cities and towns. Alon, for example, listed the names of rabbis known to have founded what he called local courts and academies: “We know that R. Eliezer (and R. Tarfon) did so in Lydda; R. Aqiba in Bene Beraq; R. Joshua in Peki‘in (of South); R. Halafta in Sepphoris; R. Hanina ben Teradyon in Sikhnin. There also seem to have been (in this time) academies of a sort in Tiberias and in Beit She‘arim. R. Ishmael’s academy was somewhere in the south, possibly in Kefar Aziz. All these academies served not only the towns in which they were situated, but the surrounding areas as well” (Alon 1989:480; cf. ibid. 312). Moreover, the Masters and their Disciples had common tasks in three spheres: (a) solving legal matters in their own community with respect to halakhic regulations; (b) teaching Torah to the public; (c) negotiating legal disputes (Alon 1989:480).

The intimate circle of the Havura and beit ha’midrash Often it was a circle of a small and exclusive group of students, called the association (Havura), that gathered around their Master. As we shall see shortly, a person who wanted to pursue a higher rabbinic education had to serve a Master who would teach him Torah and transmit to him the tradition of wisdom (cf. S. J. D. Cohen 1981; Shapira 2000). The sources indicate that learning and teaching took place in beit ha’midrash. During the Tannaitic period, however, beit ha’midrash can have three meanings: (i) It may refer to a place in the open air where the Sages held their sessions: The sources refer to beit ha’midrash as a place in nature where the Master and his Disciples had study-sessions. So study-sessions took place both in the open air and in nature. Büchler has gathered numerous examples from Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources that indicate that the Master and his Disciples often had 181

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study sessions and discussions in the open air, in a garden or a field, under a tree, or close to a school-house or the market place. Here are some examples from the Tannaitic sources: (a) R. Tarfon and his Disciples sat in the shade of a dove-cote in Jabneh discussing a halakhic subject (t. Berakhot 4.16); (b) The gathering of the Sages in the vineyard in Jabneh (t. Eduyyot 1.1); (c) R. Horcanos who read the whole portion of haliza under a terebinth tree in the village of Etam (m. Yebamot 12.6) (Büchler 1914). Moreover, there were many occasions on which the study-sessions between the Master and his Disciples were conducted during the long hours of walking (cf. m. Abodah Zarah 2.5; t. Hagigah 2.1; t. Berakhot 1.2; Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael, Shabtta 1; b. Yoma 85a; ibid. Hagigah 12a; and others). It seems that this type of social location provided the Havura with the opportunity of clarifying unresolved halakhic disputate and present innovative matters. The story below will illustrate my point of view: R. Yishmael [ben Elishah], R. Elazar ben Azaria and R. Aqiba were walking along the road, followed by Levi the net maker and Yishmael the son of R. Elazar ben Azaria. And the following question was posed to them: From where do we know that the duty of saving a life supersedes the Sabbath [commandments]? (Mekhilta de Rabbi Ishmael, Shabtta 1).

The above case demonstrates that during their walk some of the participants used the opportunity to clarify an unresolved halakhic issue: whether the requirement of saving life precedes the commandments of the Sabbath (cf. S. Safrai 1987:6). (ii) Beit ha’midrash may refer to a concrete building which is not necessarily an official institution. Private homes and attics were often used for such gatherings. For example, we are told that R. Aqiba and some of his Disciples were sitting in the gate-house of R. Joshua discussing a halakhic issue (t. Berakhot 4. 14–16; cf. Shapira 2000). The following shows that beit ha’midrash was not necessarily an institution, but could be a house used as a place of study. He who went out into the public way and remembered that he has tephilin on his head covers his head until he reaches his house. But if he was in the study house, he removes them and puts them in some private place (t. Erubin 8.17).

(iii) Beit ha’midrash denotes a concrete construction that is an official institution. The Tannaitic literature indicates that several independent buildings were formally recognized as beit ha’midrash, such as beit ha’midrash of R. Tarfon (t. Shabbat 5.3; cf. m. Erubin 4.4) or beit ha’midrash of R. Eliezer ben Horcanos (mekhilta Beshalach 1; ibid. 17). For the sake of convenience, I will present several examples to show that beit ha’midrash was regarded as a formal institution. 182

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One may use [unclean heave-offering] oil for burning in synagogues, batei midrashot [houses of study], dark alleyways and for sick people with the permission of the Priest (m. Terumot 11.10; cf. ibid. Pesahim 4.4).

The regulation concerning the use of unclean oil in the study hall suggests that the phenomenon of beit ha’midrash was widespread. Said R. [E]lazar ben R. Zadok: “One time we were in a session before Rabban Gamaliel II in the Study house (beit ha’midrash) in Lydda.” And Zonen, who was in charge, came along and said ‘The time has come to burn the leaven’. So father and I went to the house of Rabban Gamaliel II and we burned the leaven” (t. Pesahim 3.11).

The above evidence explicitly states that there was an institution identified as beit ha’midrash. I conclude that during the Tannaitic period, beit ha’midrash could either refer either to a study-session that took place in the open air or in private homes, but it also refers to an institution.48 The organization of the association (Havura) Before I explore the relationship between the Master and his Disciple, I need to ask two preliminary questions regarding the character of the organization of the association: (i) Was the association temporary or was it permanent, like the association of Jesus (when Jesus gathered twelve Disciples they remained with him all the time)? Likewise, are we to assume that the Disciples of the Sages stayed together permanently or that they attended different Masters? At first glance, the evidence below seems to support the idea that the association was not only temporary but that the Disciple was encouraged to acquire several Masters simultaneously: R. Meir says: “If you have studied the Torah with one Master, do not say, ‘That is enough’ but go to another Sage and Study the Torah” (ARN/A 3).

R. Meir is clearly encouraging Disciples to attend different schools and study different approaches (cf. Melamed 1960). However, the wide spectrum of interdependency between the Master and his Disciple leads us to assume that the Disciple attended one Master at a time. The sources do not specify how long the education lasted. S. Safrai indicated that there were Disciples who left their homes to study for a number of years (S. Safrai 1976). 48

Shapira (2000) offers an alternative suggestion and argues that during the period of Jabneh and until the first generation after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt, beit ha’midrash as an institution did not exist. The sources, as we shall see in the following, support this view. 183

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Moreover, Talmudic scholars distinguish between two prevailing schools that existed during the Tannaitic period; the school of individual rabbis and the school of the Patriarchs. In the case of the school of individual Sages,49 each Master had an intimate circle of his own Disciples and when he died, the association broke up and had to find a new Master. This brings to mind the story of R. Aqiba, who visited his Master R. Eliezer when he was ill. When R. Eliezer eventually died, R. Aqiba exclaimed: “I mourn for you, my Master who left his whole generation orphaned” (ARN/A 25). Aqiba’s exclamation strengthens the notion that the institution was temporary and existed as long as the Master was alive, whereas the institution of the Patriarchs was perpetual, meaning that when the Patriarch died his son inherited his office, and in this way the Disciples could further pursue their education in the particular school they attended. Furthermore, S. J. D. Cohen says that although these schools were separate institutions, they did interconnect: “The Patriarch, like other rabbis, taught his own students, but from time to time (this point is not very clear) all Rabbis would gather to participate in the deliberation of the Patriarchal school” (S. J. D. Cohen 1981:59). (For a detailed discussion on the tension between the school of the Patriarchs and the school of individual rabbis cf. Albeck 1943a; Alon 1989:308–322; S. Safrai 1976; S. J. D. Cohen 1981.) (ii) Was the Havura organized as a social and economic unit like the association of Jesus, which had common property? I suggest that the nature of the relationship between the Disciples and the Master as shown in the following, portrays different aspects of one complex reality that leads us to assume that the Disciples and the Master had common property. Moreover, the examination of S. Safrai showed that the Disciples and their Master had a common fund used to purchase food. The sources reveal that the Havura often had communal meals. Said R. Simeon ben [E]lazar: “One time we were in session before R. Meir in Ardasqis, and someone said ‘I prepared an erub with onions’ ” (t. Erubin 6.4).

However, there were different arrangements depending on the economic situation of the Havura, i.e. in some cases the Sages were supported financially by their students. Sages from a priestly background were entitled to receive tithes and could share their property with their Master (S. Safrai 1976). From the above, I conclude that there are great similarities between the association of Jesus and the Master and his Disciples in terms of economic 49

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S. Safrai has pointed out that the Talmudic tradition mentions several independent schools of Sages during the Tannaitic period: “Tradition mentions the distinguished school at Lydda kept by R. Eliezer ben Horcanos. R. Aqiba headed another in Benei-Beraq, R. Joshua (ben Hananiah) in Pekiin and R. Ishmael taught at Kefar Aziz south of Hebron. At the same time there were other schools in Tiberias and at Beth Shearim” (S. Safrai 1976:962–963).

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structure and the fact that both associations were permanent. The similarity may be explained by the fact that both associations emerged from the same social structure in Jewish society and thus their social behavior was influenced to a great extent by the world view of their own society.

The relationship between the Master and his Disciple Jesus and his Disciples compared to the Sage and his Disciples One cannot ignore the striking similarities between the type of relationship that existed between the Sages and their Disciples as described in the Talmudic literature and that which existed between Jesus and his Disciples as described in the New Testament. The relationship between Jesus and his Disciples is characterized by great intimacy and love. The fellowship between them is intense; the Disciples were constantly with him; they followed him everywhere and traveled with him from town to town and from one city to the next; they ministered together, had a table fellowship, they slept at the same places, etc. The Disciples showed concern for their Master by providing food and accommodation for him. The constant attendance of the Disciple on his Master was a pedagogical tool; by observing his Master in different situations and social locations that spanned the entire spectrum of socio-religious life, the Disciple could achieve a greater insight into the Master’s teaching. It also made it easier to imitate the Master’s teaching and conduct (Matt. 4.18–22; 8.19–23; 9.9; Mark 1.16–20; Luke 5; 2.28; John 1.37–43; 3.22). Jesus’ behavior towards his Disciples as a Master echoes the customs of Jewish society in his days and seems to continue into the Amoraitic period, as it is portrayed in the Talmudic literature. Moreover, the quality of the relationship between the Master and the Disciple, as prescribed in New Testament and Talmudic sources, has its roots in authentic and original Jewish traditions dating back to the time of the Hebrew prophets50 (Aberbach 1976). In other words, the pattern of behavior that we find in both associations reflects the social structure of Jewish society which existed for many generations. Nevertheless, we cannot be certain to what degree this custom, described in detail in the Amoraitic literature, mirrors the practice in the Tannaitic period. What is crucial for us is to understand the quality of the relationship between the Master and his Disciple and to gain a general idea about the multiple levels of interaction between them. 50

Aberbach argues that the intimate relationship between the Master and the Disciple was deeply anchored in Jewish tradition. He cites the following example: “Thus, when Elisha was called upon by the prophet Elijah to join him, he chose to abandon his agricultural pursuits, kiss his parents goodbye — a remarkable example of the preference given even then to the master over the parents — and to remain with the prophets to the end” (Aberbach 1976:2). 185

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In view of this, I will use both Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources as historical evidence. The interdependency between the Master and his Disciple Earlier I mentioned that interdependency within the group refers to a collection of individuals who influence each other and interact on a regular basis, and that the interaction of the members of the group is structured by certain roles and status. My examination so far has focused on the network of interdependency relating to the practice of groomsmen and funeral and mourning rites. In the following, I will be paying attention to the affiliation between the Master and his Disciple. The following examination reveals that the interdependency between the student and his Master occupied a dominant place within the group of the Sages. Aberbach’s (1976) extensive examination of the relationship between a Sage and his Disciple has brought to light that it involved mutual interdependence and great intimacy that in many aspects resembled the relationship between father and son (cf. Alon 1989:476–478; S. Safrai 1976; Levine 1989:59–65; Rosenfeld 1997a:48–51). Attending the Master The services provided by the son to his father were similar to those provided by the Disciple to the Master. Aberbach has pointed out that the repeated phrase in Talmudic literature ‫ שמש תלמיד חכם‬which can be translated as a servant who is a Disciple of the Sage (t. Berakhot 5.28–29; cf. j. Berakhot 8.3; 12b), or the equivalent phrase ‫ שמש חכמים‬meaning serving a Sage (j. Nazir 7.1, 56b) was often a synonym for lamad, which means studying under the supervision of a Master (m. Demai 2.3; j. Hagigah 3.1, 78d; j. Shabbat 10.5, 12c; j. Nazir 7.1, 56b). Serving the Sage, he argues, was fundamental role in the educational process of the Disciple, which included studying the law and being exposed to a specific lifestyle, which could be done only through continuous attendance on the Master. This tendency was not restricted to a certain time and place, but included all social locations at all times. The Disciple was obliged to serve his Master: All tasks that a slave performs for his Master, a student performs for his Master (b. Ketubot 96a).

The duties imposed on the students included a wide range of services, some of which indicate a great intimacy between the Disciple and his Master: The student would often accompany the Master wherever he went. Moreover, there are cases of a student not only accompanying his master, but of physically supporting him, and helping him to walk (cf. j. Berakhot 2.1, 4b; j. Berakhot 5.4; 9d; j. Demai 3.2, 23b; j. Shabbat 1.2, 3a; j. Sheqalim 2.7, 47a; j. Abodah Zarah 186

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3.13, 43b). The Disciple ran errands (j. Shebiit 9.9, 39a) and attended and served him at meals; this included preparing and making the food (j. Berakhot 8.5, 12b). The following provides evidence of this: R. Elazar said in the name of R. Joshua: “When I was serving R. Hiyya the Elder, I would bring him hot water from the lower floor level to the higher floor level and then return the kettle to the stove” (j. Shabbat 4.3, 7a).

Moreover, the student would accompany him to the bath house; the assistance included carrying the Master’s garments, washing and oiling the floor, warming oil for anointing, etc. (j. Berakhot 2.3, 4c; j. Shabbat 7.2, 10a-b; cf. b. Shabbat 40b; ibid. 41a). As mentioned earlier (cf. chapter 3, pp. 166–169), the student would attend the Master when he was sick and console him when he was mourning. For the sake of convenience, let us look at one of the examples: R. Eliezer was ill, and R. Tarfon, R. Joshua, R. Elazar ben Azariah and R. Aqiba came to visit him (Sifre Deuteronomy 32; cf. ARN/A 14; ibid. 25; j. Hagigah 2.1, 77b-c; b. Berakhot 28b; j. Hagigah 2.1, 77b).

At times, a student would even assist his Master in his private affairs (b. Berakhot 5b; b. Sanhedrin 101a); the Disciple would often visit him during the holidays (m. Sukkah 2.7; t. Sukkah 2.1). In fact, according to the Babylonian Talmud, the Disciple was obliged to visit his Master during the holiday (b. Sukkah 27b). On the Sabbath, there would be a gathering of the intimate circle of the association, which often consisted of the Sage and his students (t. Negaim 8.2; t. Erubin 9.4; j. Sotah 2.2, 18a). Honor and hierarchy between the Master and his Disciple The behavior expected of the Disciple towards his Master was emphasized to signify the hierarchy of Disciple and Sage, as we will see in the following. The Disciple was expected to show his Master extraordinary reverence, reflected in various codes of conduct: Normally, when a student (especially a junior) was to receive a lesson from his Master he had to be seated before his Master on the ground or on a mat, while the Master sat on a stone, a jug, a basket, or a bench. This is evidenced in the following example: When a Sage enters your house do not treat him with contempt and don’t sit with him neither on the bed nor on the bench but be seated at his feet (on the ground) and receive his teaching with fear and respect in the same manner as when you hear him at beit ha’midrash (ARN/B 11; b. Sanhedrin 17b; b. Nedarim 49b; b. Baba Qamma 117a; b. Qiddushin 49b). 187

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This indicates that the hierarchical status of the Master to that of his student had to be correlated symbolically with the physical position of the Disciple visà-vis his Master. Furthermore, this hierarchy carries over from the study house to social life. During the study session, students were not allowed to make jokes in front of their Master (b. Shabbat 30b). The expression “to be seated at the feet of the Master” recalls the testimony of Luke about Paul the Pharisee, who was a Disciple of Gamaliel the Elder: “I was brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel” (Acts 22.3). I would mention here that the fact that Paul, who considered himself a Pharisee, was a Disciple of Gamaliel the Elder, supports the notion that the Pharisees were the forerunners of the Sages (cf. chapter 3, pp. 102–114). A student was not allowed to refer to his Master by his first name, but addressed him as Rabbi. Not infrequently, he would use the appellation “my teacher” (b. Qiddushin 31b; b. Sanhedrin 109b; b. Berakhot 3a). The student could not pray alongside his Master or behind him. A Disciple could not challenge the authority of his teacher, nor could he express an opinion that he had not heard from his teacher. The student had to greet his Master in a fitting manner that was apparently distinct from the greeting of an ordinary person; he had to bow down to his teacher and salute him respectfully (b. Berakhot 27a-b; b. Qiddushin 32b–33a). Moreover, a Disciple could not hand down a legal judgment in the geographical vicinity of his Master, unless he was at least threeparsaot away from him (b. Sanhedrin 5b). In other words, if someone needed to consult the Disciple on a legal matter, the Disciple was permitted to help only if he was twelve kilometers away from his Master; this enactment was stipulated in order to show respect to the Master. The student had to show proper manners at the table of fellowship and when taking leave. These manners were determined according to hierarchy among the ranks of the Sages. There are numerous codes of conduct with respect to table manners, for example: the leading scholar was privileged to recite the grace unless he decided to honor his Disciple with this privilege. When the Master and his Disciple were walking together, the Disciple had to walk behind his Master, as is recounted below: 1. Once it happened that R. Ishmael was walking behind R. Joshua (t. Parah 10.3). 2. Said R. Yehudah: Once it happened that I was walking behind R. Aqiba and R. Elazar ben Azariah, and the time came for recitation of the Shema (t. Berakhot 1.2). 3. Once it happened that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai came out of Jerusalem and R. Joshua was walking behind him (ARN/A 4.5; cf. t. Hagigah 2.1; cf. b. Hagigah 14b; Mekhilta de R. Ishmael, Shabtta 1; b. Berakhot 62a).

One gets the impression that there is an awareness of the hierarchy of Master and Disciple, which is manifested as they walk together. 188

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An outstanding example of this approach can be found, correspondingly, in the following narrative in Tosefta Hagigah, which depicts the hierarchy of Disciple and Master on two levels. Let us first examine the text: Once it happened that Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai was riding on an ass, and R. Elazar ben Arach was driving the ass from behind. He [Elazar] said to him my Master teach me a chapter from [the tradition concerning] the chariot. He said to him: “have I not told you to begin with and that one does not repeat [the tradition concerning] the chariot for an individual, unless he was a Sage [and] understands of his own knowledge?” (t. Hagigah 2.1; cf. m. Hagigah 2.1).

The symbolic hierarchy of Master and Disciple is manifested in two dimensions: (i) We are told that the Disciple R. Elazar ben Arach is riding behind his Master Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai. It seems that the Tannaitic Sage who narrates the story is consciously choreographing the scene between Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai and R. Elazar ben Arach according to the hierarchy of Master and Disciple. The minor detail that the Disciple rides behind the Master, not beside or ahead of him, assumes greater importance when the reader visualizes “the harmonious scene” of the Disciple who is trying to have a deep and serious conversation with his Master while he is riding behind him! (The fact that the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmuds alter the story by adding that when Rabban ben Zakkai heard these questions he immediately descended from his donkey, wrapped himself in a garment, and sat upon a stone and taught him, points out that the Amoraitic Sages were “slightly” disturbed by the inharmonious setting in Tosefta Hagigah (cf. b. Hagigah 14b; j. ibid. 2.1, 73a). (ii) The hierarchy of Master and Disciple is reflected in the limitation on the amount of knowledge the Disciple is allowed to acquire. According to Mishna Hagigah, the account of Bereshit (creation) and the account of Merkavah (chariot) were strictly forbidden to be taught unless the person was an established scholar who could understand them through his own knowledge. S. Safrai argued that the account of Merkavah and Bereshit are considered esoteric and supremely mystical accounts of heavenly worlds and the orderly functioning of creation. He wrote: “Around these two subjects metaphysical and mystical theories, and ideas on the angels and the heavens, were developed” (S. Safrai 1976:960). These two accounts relate to Genesis 1 and Ezekiel 1. Accordingly, R. Elazar ben Arach, who was not considered an established scholar at that time, was not perceived as one who could understand the issues on his own, in contrast to his Master, Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai. I conclude from the story above that honor and hierarchy were dominant components of the relation between the Master and his student. 189

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Another social setting that clearly mirrors the hierarchy of Master and Disciple is the academy hall. As demonstrated earlier, the symbolic hierarchy of Master and Disciple was manifested in the academy hall where places were allocated according to the hierarchy within the ranks of the Sages. The Master’s obligation towards his Disciple Earlier I examined various aspects of the Disciple’s commitment and devotion towards his Master. In the following section, I will explore the ways by which the Master’s devotion to his Disciple is articulated: The Master would take a deep personal interest in his student’s welfare: the Master, for example, would visit and care for his Disciple when he was sick (b. Berakhot 5b; b. Nedarim 40a), comfort him when he was mourning the loss of his dear ones (j. Berakhot 1.8, 5b-c; b. Ketubot 8b), recommend his Disciple for a communal position (j. Shebiit 6.1, 36d; j. Hagigah 1.8, 76d; j. Yebamot 12.7, 13a), assist his Disciple in his private affairs, and assist in the marriage of his student. One of the Master’s main tasks was to teach his Disciples the laws of Torah. The Master was encouraged to show boundless patience and understanding when he was teaching (m. Abot 2.5); he would often praise and encourage his students for their achievements (t. Hagigah 2.1; m. Nazir 7.4; m. Abot 2.8–9), but when they failed in their intellectual tasks he would express disapproval and rebuke them (j. Berakhot 2.8, 5b; j. ibid. 3.1, 6a; j. Nazir 7.1, 56a). The Master was not only responsible for teaching the Disciple the laws of Torah, but would accustom the Disciple to a lifestyle that included certain habits and patterns of behavior; in a sense, the Master was a “consciousness raiser.” He would also equip his Disciple with norms, values, and ideology. One may ask what were the breath and length of topics that the Master could teach his Disciple. The two stories below, which in my opinion have a humorous flavor, will demonstrate that there were no limits to the “topics” that the Disciple wanted to learn from his Master. The first story relates to a discussion between Ben Azzai and R. Yehudah [bar Ilai], who recalls an episode that occurred during the time he was attending his Master R. Aqiba. Ben Azzai narrates that he once entered the latrine after R. Aqiba in order to learn how the “actual performance” should be conducted according to the social codes. He narrates that he learned three things: (i) One does not defecate east and west but north and south. (ii) One defecates sitting and not standing. (iii) It is proper to wipe with the left hand and not the right hand. R. Yehudah turns to him and says: “Did you then act so boldly towards your Master”? Ben Azzai answered: “This behavior [relating to intimate details of personal conduct] is Torah and I must study it.” The next story deals with a even more intimate subject than the first. 190

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Rav Kahana recalls that he once came in and lay under the bed of Rav. He heard how his Master conversed with his wife, and then laughed with her, and only then did he “do what he was required” of marital relations.51 From beneath his Master’s bed, Kahana then in an eloquent speech teases his Master and cites: !‫“ דמי פומיה דאבא כדלא שריף תבשילא‬Father’s mouth is like one that has not swallowed food!” Meaning that the behavior of his Master was comparable to a starving man presented with food. In other words, Rav was not only “performing his marital duties to his wife,” but also enjoying it immensely. When his Master discovers where his Disciple was in fact “spending his time,” he turns to him and (hopefully) whispers to him: “Kahana, are you here? Go out, for it is not proper that you are here.” Kahana then replied: ‫“ תורה היא וללמוד אני צריך‬It is a matter of Torah and I am required to learn” (b. Berakhot 62a). Whether this story reflects a historical reality or not, it teaches us that there was no limit to the extent of Torah studies! Moreover, this kind of education applied to both the public and private spheres, such as the market place, the synagogue, the academy, and the court house and social gatherings, such as the banquet, bath house, table fellowship, etc. This type of “upbringing” necessitated constant attendance on the Sage, as has already been demonstrated. The above survey discloses the dialectical tension in the relationship between Master and Disciple. On the one hand, there are distinct guiding rules which signify the duties and obligations of both Master and Disciple. These codes of behavior apply to both the public and private spheres. Much of the conduct is expressed in a symbolic manner, in order to show honor to the Master and acknowledge the superiority of the Master over the student. On the other hand, the relationship is one of great mutual intimacy. The intense affection that the Master and Disciple bore for each other exceeded and transcended the traditional “paternal-filial relationship.” The mutual care and concern was expressed in endless details; the Master and his Disciple were closely bound up in each other’s lives; reciprocal obligations they had, encompassed a great number of tasks and duties; it also demanded an immense investment of time and depth of involvement in diverse social settings. The exclamation of the Disciple R. Elazar ben Azaria to his Master R. Eliezer when he was ill will serve to summarize this point. R. Elazar expressed his love to his Master in the following: Master, you are more precious to Israel than a father and mother, for a father and a mother bring one into this world, while you have brought us into this world and to the world to come (Sifre Deuteronomy 32). 51

According to halakhah, a man is required to satisfy his wife sexually. 191

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One cannot disregard the fact that the quality of upbringing of the Disciple by his Master recalls the theory of the French anthropologist and sociologist on cultural capital and habitus with respect to the reproduction of education. (Bourdieu’s theory on cultural capital is discussed at length in chapter 6, pp. 289–292.) We will briefly state that Bourdieu’s view was that cultural and social capital are acquired mainly through family upbringing and social surroundings. Through these agents a person is able to learn how to decipher cultural codes, such as linguistic competence, style of being, of dressing, of speaking, with whom to associate and how to make the right personal contacts, and what type of art is preferable. Bourdieu stressed that the educational system plays an important role in the reproduction of the social distribution of cultural capital, and is used as an instrument by the dominant group to perpetuate their own cultural values. The ability to propagate a hierarchy of values by acquiring the “right habitus” legitimizes the superiority of those who have access to it. Bourdieu also suggested that the process of habituating is not only used consciously by the dominant group to fortify group distinction, but also provides group members with unspoken knowledge that enables the members of the group to recognize each other as sharing the same habitus, thus reinforcing group identity. In other words, the concept of habituating comprises the notion of recognizing others as belonging to the same group and at the same time becoming unconsciously aware that they share the same habits and values. To express it in a more concrete manner, we might say that in the process of educating his Disciples, the Master’s task of habituating the Disciples, as was shown above, goes in both directions; on the one hand, he must give the culturally correct signals in the appropriate situations (the market place, table fellowship, the synagogue, the academy, during a lesson, etc.), and on the other hand, he enables his Disciples to decipher the cultural codes expressed by other members of the same group. The process of habituation emphasizes group distinction and reinforces group identity.

Inner tension between the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin In the following, I will examine the relationship between the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin. This will be of great value to the following section, in which I consider the question: Were the Sages an elite group during the Tannaitic period? The positive outcome of conflict in the process of forging social identity Traditionally speaking, the concept of conflict evokes negative associations that often indicate the need for problem solving. This has led many researchers, especially in the field of social psychology, to develop insightful theories regarding the resolution of conflict. (For a review see Worchel and 192

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Coutant-Sassic and Wong 1993.) However, in the last decade there has been a paradigm shift among scholars, who no longer focus only on conflict resolution but underscore the functional dimension, namely the positive consequences of conflict, such as individual growth, identity formation, and social change. This fairly recent focus is anchored in the realization that conflict is a natural and necessary condition that exists in all kinds of human interactions. (For a review of these theories and bibliography see Worchel and Coutant-Sassic and Wong 1993.) It should be emphasized that the functional dimension has been identified in the past by well-established theoreticians in social fields, such as Dewey, Simmel, Coser, Freud, Jung, Erikson, and Festinger. However, only recently has there been a paradigm shift in social psychology discourse on the importance of the functional dimension of conflict. The social philosopher Dewey summarizes the functional dimension that conflict may offer with respect to in-group interaction: “Conflict is the gadfly of thought. It stirs us to observation and memory. It instigates to invention. It shocks us out of sheeplike passivity, and sets us at noting and contriving … Conflict is a sine qua non of reflection and ingenuity” (Dewey in Coser 1957:198). In the following, I will outline two positive effects of conflict management: (i) The maintenance of distinct social identity: in situations which show signs of confusion and disharmony, the individual is encouraged to go through a process of self-reflection. In this process, the individual is compelled to examine his self-perception and to protect his boundaries, whatever they may be, by providing evidence to legitimize his point of view when facing significant others involved in the conflict (Festinger in Worchel and Coutant-Sassic and Wong 1993:77). Similarly, for Deutsch, conflict serves as a basis for self-reflection. It promotes in the individual the process of self-examination which enables him to define his boundaries and forge a clearer self-identity. He writes: “Conflict is often part of the process of testing and assessing oneself … In addition, conflict demarcates groups from one another and thus helps establish group and personal identities” (Deutch 1973:9). (ii) The self development of the group: the in-group conflict can promote positive change in the formation of the group. Inner tension over world view, ideology, values, goals, etc., may activate growth in the group’s own development and relationships. If the group is able to generate creative solutions for a conflict, this would initiate an important change in the group that would contribute to the group’s own development, such as stimulating inventiveness within the organization of the group, e.g. the readjustment of norms or the generation of new norms and institutions (Worchel and Coutant-Sassic and Wong 1993; cf. Simmel 1955; Coser 1957). 193

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From the above, I conclude that conflict can be transformed into beneficial performance, such as the maintenance of distinctive social identity, and can lead to important social reformation of an inner change within the structure of the group. Power relation between the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin The examination of Alon (1977; 1989) indicates that during the days of Rabban Gamaliel II there was a deep-seated conflict between two institutions: the Patriarchy and the Sanhedrin. Tannaitic sources recount several unresolved competing views between the two bodies, which reflect the struggle to maintain power in various spheres of religious authority. In other words, the body of the Sanhedrin demanded greater autonomy to decide on halakhic issues, free of intervention by the Patriarch. Such Halakhic issues concerned the calendar, liturgy, prayer, and the right to appoint Sages. I will take two clashes between these institutions and examine the nature of the conflict in light of the above theories. The following story depicts the confrontation between Rabban Gamaliel II and R. Joshua ben Hananiah regarding the intercalation of the month. This story, as we will see in a moment, demonstrates that when the group is facing a disagreement or dissatisfaction with the current situation, it is often sparked by a particular incident or rumor which serves as an instrument to endorse a change, whether positive or negative. Accordingly, the incident is about two men who bear witness that they saw the new moon on the thirtieth day. Rabban Gamaliel II, who accepted their testimony, declared the new month on that day. However, unlike Rabban Gamaliel, R. Johanan ben Nuri was convinced that their testimony was invalid, and when he shared his opinion with R. Joshua, the latter agreed with him. The result of this incident was that R. Joshua, who according to Talmudic tradition was vice president of the Sanhedrin at the time (cf. b. Baba Qamma 74b), simply refused to accept Rabban Gamaliel’s declaration of the new month, thus fixing the calendar independently of the Patriarch’s decision, on the thirty-first day (m. Rosh Hashanah 2.8). This led to the following clash between Rabban Gamaliel II and R. Joshua: Rabban Gamaliel II sent him [to Joshua the following message]: “I decree that you come to me with your staff and coins on the Day of Atonement according to your calculation.” R. Aqiba went and found him troubled. He said to him: “I can provide grounds for showing that everything that Rabban Gamaliel II has done is validly done” … He [Joshua] went to R. Dosa ben Harkinas. He [Dosa] said to him: “If we take issue with the court of Rabban Gamaliel II, we have to take issue with every single court which has come into being from the time of Moses to the present day” … [Joshua] took his staff with his coins in his hand and went to Jabneh, to Rabban Gamaliel II, on the Day of Atonement which is determined according to his [Joshua] 194

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calculation. Rabban Gamaliel II stood up and kissed him on his head and said to him: “Welcome My Master and my Disciple, My Master in wisdom, and my Disciple for accepting my rulings” (m. Rosh Hashanah 2.9; cf. b. Rosh Hashanah 25b).

Talmudic scholars suggest that when Rabban Gamaliel II heard that his friend and colleague R. Joshua had disputed his decision and decided to consider the thirty-first day as the first day of the new month he was afraid that if R. Joshua was permitted to disagree with the decision of the president of the Sanhedrin, this would encourage others to do the same. In other words, it could easily lead to an open rift and eventually separation within the group and the nation. In order to avoid the anticipated split, Rabban Gamaliel II compelled R. Joshua to make public his acceptance of the Patriarch’s official calendar. He ordered R. Joshua to come to him on the day that he reckoned as the Day of Atonement. Moreover, by carrying his walking stick and his money he would signify that he agreed with the Patriarch’s decision, since both items were prohibited on the Day of Atonement. This demonstrates that the conflict between the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch has a functional dimension, the members of the Sanhedrin sought to promote positive change in the formation of the group by altering the inner structure and changing the contemporary relationship of power between the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch. Moreover, the voice of resistance articulated by some members of the Sanhedrin signaled their need to protect their own boundaries. In practice, the body of the Sanhedrin requested greater independence in making decisions in the socio-religious sphere, without the interference of the leadership of the Patriarch. The resolution of the conflict confirms numerous studies by social psychologists, which have shown that when a conflict is between opposite groups it is easily provoked, whereas, when it is an intra-group conflict it is “quickly suppressed” (cf. Worchel and Coutant-Sassic and Wong 1993). This seems to be reflected in the general attitude of the Sages. The examination of Z. Safrai and H. Safrai with respect to the culture of disputation within the group of the Sages reveals that despite the numerous disagreements within the group of the Sages, they sought consciously to downplay these conflicts and to portray themselves as a socially united and integrated group. (For extensive examination see Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2002.) Another observation worth mentioning with respect to the above story is the realization that the conflict between Rabban Gamaliel II and R. Joshua encompasses a spectrum of powerful emotions that may reflect to a certain extent a sense of intimacy and collaboration rather than antagonism, or “resentment” as some scholars have suggested (Alon 1977:341; 1989:308–232 and others). This idea is based on the following observations: 195

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(i) The two figures are often mentioned together in different social contexts (the evidence is provided throughout chapter 3). (ii) The suggestion that R. Joshua was appointed by Rabban Gamaliel II as vice president of the Sanhedrin shows that he had confidence in him and considered him a suitable leader. (iii) The vivid emotional behavior of Rabban Gamaliel II towards his fellow R. Joshua, speaks of the closeness between them: when Rabban Gamaliel II feels threatened by R. Joshua he uses his authority in an extreme manner, and when R. Joshua finally accepts his decision, Rabban Gamaliel II expresses his great satisfaction by kissing him on the head and complimenting him by calling him “my Master and my Disciple who acts in wisdom.” If this was a scene in an American movie we could say that they started with a fight and ended with a kiss. Moreover, several scholars suggest that the conflict between Rabban Gamaliel II and R. Joshua resulted in the former being deposed from office. Their assumption is deduced from stories in the Amoraitic literature (j. Berakhot 4.1, 7c-d; b. Berakhot 27b–28a; for bibliography see Shapira 1999:6, n. 2). It is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss this problem at length. However, I will mention two arguments. First, nowhere in the Tannaitic period is there a hint that Rabban Gamaliel II was removed from his office. Second, the examination of Shapira suggests that these stories reflect the social and political situation in the third century, namely that the conflict between the Sanhedrin and the Patriarch had intensified (for a detailed examination, see Shapira 1999; cf. Levine 1989:186–191). Another challenging theory is raised by Goodblatt, who rejects Alon’s theory about the inner tension between the two institutions. According to Goodblatt, Rabban Gamaliel II did not officiate as a Patriarch, nor was there a Sanhedrin at the time (Goodblatt 1994:251–255). If we accept Goodblatt’s suggestion that the Sanhedrin was constituted much later than the period of Rabban Gamaliel II, are we then to assume that the inner tension expressed in the Tannaitic sources is an imagined conflict?!52 Before reaching a final conclusion, I will examine another clash between the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin: The following story takes place in Jericho, where Rabban Gamaliel II and some Sages were being hosted. After their meal and while they were still seated at the table, the attendants brought before them dates R. Aqiba suddenly recited a blessing after eating the dates. The following discussion between Rabban Gamaliel II and R. Aqiba ensued:

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I wish to thank Professor Z. Safrai for his observation.

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Rabban Gamaliel II said to him: “Aqiba, why do you interfere in the disputes?” He said to him: “You taught us that one should follow the majority. Even though you rule one way and your fellows rule another way, the halakhah follows the ruling of the majority” (t. Berakhot 4.15).

There appears to have been a dispute between Rabban Gamaliel II and the members of the Sanhedrin over a halakhic matter concerning the blessing. Libermann suggested that according to the ruling of Rabban Gamaliel II, when a person ate he had to make three benedictions, including over the dessert; however, the Sages believed that the blessing over the food did not exempt a person from reciting the blessing over the dessert (Libermann 1992, Tosefta Ki-fshutah I, 68). I suggest that when R. Aqiba recited the blessing he signaled that he supported the Sanhedrin’s opinion and not the ruling of Rabban Gamaliel II. In other words, when Rabban Gamaliel II gave a sign that it was permitted to eat the dessert, R. Aqiba jumped up and started to recite a blessing over the dates. I suggest that by doing so R. Aqiba was demonstrating that he sided with the Sanhedrin against the ruling of the Patriarch. When Rabban Gamaliel II asked him why he had interfered with the dispute of others, his answer reveals that the majority of the Sanhedrin in fact disagreed with Rabban Gamaliel’s ruling. This dispute once more reveals that the Sanhedrin sought autonomy in halakhic matters without interference from the Patriarch. In other words, conflict contributes to the process of forging a clearer group identity in relation to the Patriarchal body. The members of the two institutions did not work separately, but collaborated intimately and often associated in different social contexts. Consequently, it is reasonable to assume that because of the repeated interactions and the shared tasks, the members of the Sanhedrin had a greater need to define their own boundaries in relation to the Patriarchal body that was superior to them. I conclude that the cases I have just examined demonstrate the positive role of conflict in the process of forging social identity. The struggle between the Sages and the Patriarch is a struggle for selfdefinition and autonomy. Although the two institutions shared common tasks, they were not equal in power. As a result, the body of the Sanhedrin, which was subordinate to the Patriarch, had to secure its boundaries and forge its own identity in relation to its roles and functions within the organizational framework of the group of the Sages.

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WERE THE SAGES AN ELITE GROUP DURING THE TANNAITIC PERIOD?

The questions as to whether the Sages were an elite group in the Tannaitic period and if so, to what extent they exerted political power, are highly debated among scholars. For the sake of convenience, I will first present some of their arguments. Goodman claims that the Sages were an elite group characterized by social separatism, meaning that there was a social and religious gap between them and the general public, which is reflected in continual struggle. Good man expresses it as follows: “The struggle to educate the stubborn amme haarez and prevent them from lowering the standards of the more scrupulous. In almost every area that the rabbis tried to control there were some, and, as far as one knows, a majority, who disobeyed” (Goodman 1983:102; cf. Levine 1989:47–53; 112–127). Moreover, Goodman draws a clear distinction between the political and the socio-religious spheres, and restricts the involvement of the Sages in Jewish society solely to the latter. Accordingly, whereas the Sages took communal responsibility with respect to the educational system, charitable organizations, and the juridical apparatus, their involvement in political activity was minimal, i.e. they did not control any existing communal institutions, nor did they create new ones (Goodman 1983:93–134). Levine shares this view with Goodman, and further elaborates the idea of power relationships between the Sages and other competing elite groups in Jewish society, which he identifies as those who led the Jewish communal institutions, or the Jewish Patriarch and other Jewish leaders, e.g. Bar-Kokhba. Accordingly, there was hardly any interaction between them. Levine portrays the social map as follows: “All these groups existed independently of the Sages, and most pre-dated them” (Levine 1989:193; cf. ibid. 109–112, 127–195). Z. Safrai, like Levine, subscribes to the point of view that the Sages were an elite group. However, unlike Levine, he argues that the Sages were not a separate group but were highly involved in the daily affairs of society and had substantial influence on their own society in the political, cultural, and 198

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religious spheres, although he admits that their political power was limited. Moreover, he suggests that one of the main reasons why the Tannaitic Sages were able to regain political power was the fact that they offered a new ideology and set of social goals to the Jewish community. (For an extensive examination see Z. Safrai, unpublished: “Judaism Outside Beit Ha’midrash”; cf. Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 1997.) S. J. D. Cohen rejects Z. Safrai’s notion that the Sages were an elite group or had any leading position in Jewish society. Disagreeing with the traditional view that the Sages were an elite group, he writes: “According to the traditional answer, the rabbis were the leaders of the Jews and the moulders of Judaism. Drawn from all segments of the population, they were the elite of Jewish society. Their positions as judges, teachers and synagogue leaders enable them to propagate the way of Torah among the masses … This view is false in almost every detail” (S. J. D. Cohen 1999:975). In his view, the Sages did not by any means control the religious, cultural, or civil life of the period. S. J. D. Cohen appears to accept Levine’s notion of rabbinic separatism (cf. S. J. D. Cohen 200053), however, he offers an alternative solution. He suggests that the Sages were a distinct and separate group who were self-centered and whose attention was directed at certain circles within the Jewish society, but because of their idealism they could not avoid limited connection with the masses. He also argues that there was a social gap between the Sages and the masses with hardly any social interaction between them; the Sages on the one hand, “were distinct from the masses of the Jews and looked down upon all those who did not share their outlook and follow their observances” (S. J. D. Cohen 1999:961). On the other hand, most of the Jews, “were not committed to a rabbinic way of life and did not accept rabbinic authority” (S. J. D. Cohen 1999:971). Before I can respond to these arguments, it is important to underscore that the academic discussion conducted so far by these scholars and others, unfortunately lacks a comprehensive theoretical framework from social science which could be more fruitful in exploring the structure and arrangement of the group of the Sages as a ruling group. In the following, I will provide an additional conceptual framework in which to examine some of the mechanisms of power that contribute to the process of social empowerment of the elite group. I will first present A. Cohen’s theory on the politics of elite culture, highlighting some of the dominant components which constitute the particular and universal culture of an elite group. In the following chapter, I will present the theories of the Italian scholars Pareto and Mosca, who demonstrated how political power is perpetuated by 53

Elsewhere S. J. D. Cohen expresses a similar notion: “I assume that there was a clearly demarcated social boundary between the rabbis and non-rabbis” (ibid. 2000:172). 199

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elite groups. However, before I proceed with the investigation, I would like to offer an alternative approach to some of the basic suggestions made above, which might amend the portrayal of the group of the Sages and the social map of their own time. Negotiated order When scholars portray the social identity of the Sages and their relationship to other social agents, whether competing elite groups or the general public, they seem to neglect the basic notion that social identity or social change does not occur ex nihilo but it is the result of a dynamic, ongoing negotiation with other significant agents. In other words, the constitution of social identity or the ability to alter the social order can be achieved only as a result of a complex interaction based on confrontation, cooperation, imitation, etc. Thus, if we assume that the group of the Sages altered the social map and became an elite group after the destruction of the Temple, this means that some aspects within the historical context allowed for the possibility of changing the social boundaries. A social change derives from a negotiated order with other social agents, e.g. the public or other competing elite groups. Therefore, the naїve suggestion that other competing elite groups existed independently of the Sages, or that there was hardly any interaction between the Sages and the general public, is to be rejected. Likewise, the suggestion that the Sages constituted a new ideology and invented new social aims for the Jewish community, without taking into consideration influences from the existing social order, is to be rejected. As I will demonstrate in the following chapter, the Tannaitic Sages were an elite group which constituted a counter-hegemony. The transformation in their social identity occurred through social negotiations with other significant social agents. Moreover, the Tannaitic Sages did not dismantle the structure of the ideological hegemony and create an alternative one, but through the process of rearticulating components of the existing ideology, they gave it a new interpretation that coincided with their daily experience and world view (Gramsci in chapter 5, pp. 251–252; cf. Strauss 1978). The definition of political power Another issue that is important to our discussion is the definition of political power. Both Levine and S. J. D. Cohen make a clear distinction between political, religious and cultural domains, but fail to recognize the close connection between these three components. If the Sages exerted influence to a certain extent, with respect to the educational, juridical, and religious systems, weren’t they thereby exerting political power on the Jewish community? 200

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Social anthropologists have often used the term political power in a broad sense to show how the social, religious, and political domains are interwoven and nurture each other. The social anthropologist Nicholas (1969), basing his arguments on his fieldwork in India, demonstrates how a basic value system is one of the means by which human resources are used for political power. Nicholas shows how religious and social activities are spelled out in ritual activities and that they have an enormous impact since they penetrate the entire spectrum of social life, including political affairs. Nicholas’ observation is highly valuable, since he affirms what scholars often fail to recognize, namely the interdependency between the socio-religious and the political spheres (Nicholas 1969; A. Cohen 1974). The notion that political power must be considered in the wider areas, such as society and religion, is expressed in the works of Gramsci, Pareto, Mosca, and A. Cohen. This brings us to our next topic, namely elite groups and political power.

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THE POLITICS OF ELITE CULTURE: THE PARTICULAR AND UNIVERSAL CULTURE

In his ethnographic study of the small-scale society of an elite group, the Creoles in Sierra Leone, A. Cohen (1981) examines the culture of an elite within the hierarchical system. His ultimate concern, as he underlines it, is to explore the universal phenomenon of the dynamic relations between the symbolic culture that signifies the group’s distinct identity and the power relationship in which the members of the elite group are involved. A. Cohen highlights several interconnected features of the culture of the elite, which I will present in the following, and analyze our sources accordingly. A. Cohen makes use of Durkheim’s conceptual framework, particular and universal culture, as an organizing principle to demonstrate that the group of Creoles conceived of themselves and acted as an elite group.54 The particular culture, on the one hand, denotes the private interests of the group; it may refer to the group’s basic value system, ideology, world view, or other practices reflected in their informal gatherings, which may take place at the club, church, weddings, and other private social gatherings. A. Cohen emphasizes that the particularistic organization is essential for the continuation of the group’s existence. He writes: “It is this inner, highly exclusive, network which provides the real basis of identity and serves as a system of channels for collaboration in developing and maintaining the interest of its members” (A. Cohen 1981:61). The universal culture, on the other hand, refers to the group’s interest in its own status. The members of an elite group, who often occupy commanding positions, such as lawyers, judges, and medical professionals, would often have the means to be involved in different institutional organizations engaged in different spheres of the social and political life of the state of Sierra Leone. A. Cohen explains how these two opposite dimensions are intimately related: An elite is an interesting group, and its culture develops as a means for the coordination of its corporate activities to enhance and maintain its power. Its 54

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On the basis of Durkheim’s analysis, A. Cohen, observes that in fact all social groups possess universalistic and particularistic functions.

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culture is thus to that extent particularistic. But because its members are at the same time the heads of different public institutions and the leaders of different national groupings, the very organization that articulates their sectional activities functions at the same time to bring about the close coordination of these national institutions and groupings and their overall integration. In this way the elite offers solutions to some significant organizational problems on the national level, and to that extent its culture is universalistic … Thus the particularistic and the universalistic factors in the cultural affect one another in a dialectical manner (A. Cohen 1981:126–127).

A. Cohen proposes a powerful scientific theory that will be adopted in this monograph. His refined analytical concept of universal and particular culture brings us closer to the rich and complex network of the elite group and at the same time, he offers new patterns of thinking in which I can structure my findings and interpret them accordingly. In the following, I will demonstrate that a) there is a dialectical relationship between these two aspects, and b) the Sages conceived of themselves and acted as an elite group and were conscious both of the particularistic and universalistic dimensions.

The particular culture of the Tannaitic Sages A. Cohen names different methods and mechanisms of power by which an elite group strengthens and nourishes its own particular culture.55 Some of the features which he lists were discussed in various places in chapter 3; for the sake of convenience, I will reiterate them briefly. Let us now turn to his examination and review my findings accordingly. Communal relationships A. Cohen shows us that it is the inner network of primary relationships that links the members of the group. He uses Weber’s concept of “communal relationships” (Weber 1947:136–7). He suggests that the massive number of primary relationships exhibited at various informal gatherings enhance the interest and the functions of the privileged group. This can be expressed on different levels: (i) An elite group would create a web of enduring friendship and comradeship among the pupils. This topic was discussed at length with respect to the network of the Sages, and especially the interdependency between Disciple and Master. 55

The particular culture of the group, such as their world view, value system, and lifestyle, was examined already. See, for example, chapter 3, pp. 141–162, 170–197. 203

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(ii) The members of elite groups are often bound to one another not only by common lifestyle and friendship but also by intermarriage, kinship, and nepotism. The practice of endogamy, for example, is a mechanism by which the self-perpetuation of the elite group is preserved. Moreover, the practice of endogamy enables the group to maintain political power; privileged groups are usually closely knit by intermarriage and appoint their members to political positions in the ruling oligarchy (A. Cohen 1974; cf. Lamb 1952; Gluckman 1965). The subject of intermarriage, kinship, and nepotism is discussed in detail elsewhere (see chapter 6, pp. 289–293). Informal gatherings When the members of an elite group meet at an informal gathering, they are able to cooperate with each other and coordinate their actions by means of communal organization. A. Cohen illustrates the decisive role of informal communication with respect to group organization and power maintenance: “It is only when the members of the group exchange messages, pool their separate experiences, discuss their problems and identify the common denominator of these problems, that it is possible for them to develop a common policy and to coordinate their activities accordingly” (A. Cohen 1974:75). A. Cohen underlines the importance of informal gatherings. He takes the example from his fieldwork on the weddings of the Creole elite, and determines that the wedding event creates a social location which affects the members of the group on different levels simultaneously. He writes: For the relatively small Creole elite, a wedding is an event that ultimately affects the whole group because of its implications for recruitment, distinctiveness, the network of amity and of privilege, and the status and power of the collectivity in general. Through a series of dramatic performances, the whole symbolic order of the group is activated to create new links, strengthen existing ones, sharpen boundaries, and seize the opportunity of informally deliberating the current problems of the collectivity in small, overlapping groups chatting about solutions. Thus through the magic and the mystificatory powers of the drama, a transformation in relationship and in the structure of collectivity is effected (A. Cohen 1981:186–7).

Our investigation so far has revealed that the members of the group visited one another, ate together, Sages attended the weddings of other Sages, and joined in their mourning (the evidence is given throughout chapter 3). In the following, I will present two case studies. In the first I will illustrate how the collective identity is further strengthened by the privileged group and the particular need of the group is addressed. In the second, case study I will demonstrate how universal needs are taken care of at the informal meeting. 204

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Case study I — the particular need of the group The following incident is another example of informal gatherings where prominent leaders are invited to a private party and take up issues which concern the internal interest of the group. Once R. Tarfon, R. Aqiba, and R. Yossi the Galilean were reclining at the house of Aris in Lydda the following question was presented to them: “What is greater, study or performance?” R. Tarfon said: “Performance is greater [in importance].” R. Aqiba says: “Study is greater.” Everyone present agreed and said study is greater because it leads to performance (Sifre Deuteronomy 41; cf. t. Berakhot 4.15; cf. t. Besah 2.12; cf. Sifre Deuteronomy 38).

The above conversation takes place at a rather exclusive gathering in a banquet house to which prominent leaders had been invited. Some of them came from different places to participate in the banquet, such as R. Tarfon who came from Lydda, R. Aqiba from Bnei Beraq, and R. Yossi from the Galilee. During the party an important question is raised: What has greater value, Torah study or the performance of good deeds? The question concerns the particular needs of the group, i.e. how the members of the group ought to solve the dialectical tension between study and performance. This probably concerned many of the leaders who were active in their home towns and needed to have a clear theological point of view with respect to their ministry. It is most probable that these questions were addressed by the public as well. The informal gathering can thus be used on the one hand, to strengthen the primary network of relationships between members of the group and clarify unresolved problems concerning the group’s collective identity. On the other hand, the social events create an opportunity for the members who fulfill public tasks to coordinate their religious policy with respect to public affairs. Case study II — the universal need of the group A story is told that Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] and R. Ishmael the son of R. Yossi and R. Eliezer Haqappar spent the Sabbath in the store of Pazzi in Lydda, and R. Pinhas ben Ya’ir was sitting before them. They said to him “Ashkelon — What do you [rule] concerning it? [do you consider the city ritually pure or impure?]” He said to them, “they [the Jews] sell wheat in their basilicas, and they bathe and [forthwith] eat their Passover in the evening.” They said to him, “What is the rule about remaining in it, in respect to the land of the gentiles?” He said to them, “When a [gentile] has remained in it [the basilica] forty days, [it is unclean].” They said to him, “If so, come and let us vote [formally] concerning it to free it from tithes” And R. Ishmael the son of R. Yossi did not vote with them. When he went out, Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] said, “Why did you not vote with us?” He said to him, “Concerning one uncleanness which I [formerly] declared unclean, I have 205

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[now] declared clean. But not in respect to tithes. “I was afraid of the High Court, lest they crush my head” (t. Ohalot 18.18; cf. t. Yadayim 2.16–18; j. Shebiit 6.1, 36c).

According to the scene above we are caught in a middle of a “private” discussion between four prominent figures who are spending their Sabbath in Lydda at the Pazzi family home.56 The meeting is between two representative groups: the Sages from the north, i.e. Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] and R. Ishmael ben Yossi, and the Sages from the south, i.e. R. Eliezer Haqappar (who lived in Lydda) and R. Pinhas ben Ya’ir (who lived and was active in the south; cf. J. Schwartz 1986:217). The purpose of the meeting is to decide the status of the city of Ashkelon with respect to rules of purity and impurity and rules regarding separation of tithes. (The issues of tithes and laws of ritual purity and impurity are discussed in chapter 5, pp. 259–262, 266–267.) There are several significant details in the above source. In this spontaneous meeting, two enactments are made which have major socio-political consequences for the Jewish inhabitants of Ashkelon. These enactments, however, are based on the testimony of R. Pinhas ben Ya’ir, who informs the others about the Jewish customs of the Jews who co-reside with non-Jews in the south. The first enactment stipulates that Ashkelon is considered ritually clean, thus indicating that Ashkelon is considered to lie within the territory of the Jewish land. According to halakhah, territories outside the Jewish borders are defined as “the land of the gentiles” and are considered ritually impure (cf. m. Ohalot 18.6; t. Ohalot 18.18). Jewish inhabitants residing there would, by contact, contract the highest degree of ritual impurity, namely the “father of impurity.” This meant that the Jewish inhabitants would have to follow additional laws which would complicate their daily life and limit their daily socio-economic interactions with Jews living within the Jewish borders. By declaring Ashkelon as ritually pure, this complication would be avoided. The second enactment, however, stipulates the opposite; exempting Ashkelon from the separation of tithes and heave-offerings implies that Ashkelon is outside the Jewish borders. I suggest that this decision was made in order to alleviate the socio-economic situation of the Jews who had to compete with the non-Jewish residents. Moreover, all three agreed to grant the city a contradictory halakhic status, the exception being R. Ishmael, who refused to vote since he was afraid that his colleagues in the High Court would not accept the contradictory vote. (For a detailed examination, see S. Safrai 1977; J. Schwartz 1986:134–138; Levine 1989:147; Rosenfeld 1997a:86–87.) 56

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Archaeological examination points out that stores were part of dwelling houses (Hierschfeld 1995).

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From this, I deduce the following: (i) The members of the group are perceived as a privileged group with the power to make new enactments and influence the political arena and the general public. (ii) The nature of the problems that were raised during the meeting indicates that there was an ongoing interaction with the general public. On the one hand, the local leader R. Pinhas ben Ya’ir mediates between the general Jewish public of the south and the representatives of the Sanhedrin in Usha in the north; he takes the opportunity to inform them about the public needs of the local people. On the other hand, Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince], who was head of the Sanhedrin, was willing to make new decisions to take into consideration the local custom of the Jewish inhabitants and their socio-economic state of affairs. (iii) Although the decisions are concerned primarily with the needs of the community, the scene is choreographed in the private sphere away from the eyes of the public. (iv) According to the above narrative, legal decisions were enacted spontaneously while these prominent figures were spending their Sabbath in Lydda. The above case studies portray the culture of the elite group to address that the particular and universal needs of the group are constituted through informal communication. The relationship between exclusive gatherings and protected knowledge A. Cohen observes that one of the strategies by which the members of an elite group maintain their privileged positions is “privacy.” He observes that privileged groups almost everywhere prevent the general public from discovering the organizational mechanisms of the group by placing great emphasis on “privacy.” He writes: “In all political systems, the men at the top develop a ‘mystique’ which raises them above the multitude, validates their status in the eyes of their publics and also convinces the men themselves of their own ‘right’ to their superior position in society” (A. Cohen 1974:16). In line with A. Cohen, Funkenstein and Steinsaltz (1988), as shown earlier, recognize two types of knowledge which may prevail in different societies simultaneously: open and tacit knowledge. These types of knowledge often have dialectical tensions. Their examination reveals that tacit knowledge or the preservation of ignorance is created intentionally and is often explained by various social conventions. The protected knowledge is preserved, however, not only because of social conventions but also by the privileged group as a means of maintaining power. My examination reveals that there are three spheres in which protected knowledge is reflected: (a) the upper room; (b) the academy known as beit ha’midrash; (c) moral exclusiveness: ritual purity and impurity. 207

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(a) The upper room as constituting the structure of protected knowledge An interesting social phenomenon revealed in the Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources is that the gatherings of the Sages were carried out in the upper room. It was often the wealthy who would let the leaders of the Sages use their attics as a meeting place (cf. Rosenfeld 1989; 1997a:52–55; cf. Hierschfeld 1995:246– 247). For example, we are told that the Sages gathered in the upper room of the house of Guria in Jericho (t. Sotah 13.3), the upper room of Nitszah’s house in Lydda (t. Shabbat 2.5; Sifre Deuteronomy 4157; cf. b. Qiddushin 40b; b. Sanhedrin 74a), the upper room of Haniniah ben Hezekiah ben Gurion (m. Shabbat 1.4 cf. t. Shabbat 1.16–22; j. Shabbat 1.4, 3c-d; b. Shabbat 13b–17b), or the upper room of Jonathan ben Beterah (Sifre Numbers 115). Generally speaking, it has been suggested that one of the functions of the upper room was for studies. Nevertheless, the nature of these activities appears to indicate that the Sages not only discussed and clarified unresolved halakhic issues, but actually stipulated new laws which had social and religious implications for the development of the group as well as for the public. The unavoidable question is why these formal activities were conducted in the private sphere and not, as we would expect, in the formal institutions like the Sanhedrin. Klein suggested that these attics were a places to hide from the Roman authorities in order to discuss the current needs of the Jewish nation. He assumed that most of the meetings were held during the reign of Hadrian and reflect political tension between the Roman authorities and the Jewish community that lasted until the beginning of the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (132 C.E.). Klein’s main argument is based on the story in the Babylonian Talmud in which the leaders of the group of the Sages gathered together in the upper room of the house of Nitszah in Lydda in order to discuss whether one must allow oneself to be killed for the sake of ones Jewish faith. The story further informs us that the leaders took a vote on the matter and decided the following: [Regarding] all the prohibitions in the Torah, if they tell a person: “Transgress and you will not be killed,” he should transgress and not allow himself to be killed, except for idol worship, illicit sexual relations, or murder (b. Sanhedrin 74a).

Their decision was that a person must give his life rather than commit any of the above three sins (Klein in Rosenfeld 1997a:54). Klein’s suggestion is not convincing. The Tannaitic sources do not portray them as a group that felt the need to hide from the Roman authorities. On the contrary, as we will see later, they portray themselves as a group whose 57

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The name beit ‘Aris is identified as beit Nitzsah’s since the story has a parallel in b. Qiddushin 40b.

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representatives under the leadership of the Patriarch had been granted official recognition by the Roman authorities, and the Sanhedrin had a civil administrative role and a representative role in respect of the authorities. Moreover, the range of topics dealt with at these meetings does not relate exclusively to political problems; on the contrary, most of the cases indicate that they concerned with internal socio-religious matters. To answer the question why these activities were “informally” coordinated in the private sphere, and not, as we would expect, in formal institutions like the Sanhedrin, I would like to suggest an alternative framework of meaning, namely, that the upper room constituted a social location for structuring the protected knowledge for the group of the Sages. I will present two case studies to explain the structure of ritual secrecy. And these are some of the laws which they stated in the upper room of Hananiah ben Hezekiah ben Gurion when they went up to visit him. They took a vote, and the House of Shammai outnumbered the House of Hillel (m. Shabbat 1.4; cf. t. Shabbat 1.16–22; j. Shabbat 1.4, 3c-d; b. Shabbat 13b–17b).

According to the story above, the representatives of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai gathered in the upper room of Hananiah ben Hezekiah ben Gurion in order to decide unresolved halakhic matters. We are told that during this dramatic event they stipulated eighteen decrees in a single day which had nationwide consequences. It is difficult, however, to determine the precise nature of these decrees, since the Mishna is silent about them and the different traditions based on the Talmudic sources contradict each other on various points. It has been suggested, however, that these decrees were the result of a national struggle prior to the First Jewish Revolt and that they had enormous social and political implications for the Jewish nation. Furthermore, many of the decrees pertained to rules regarding ritual purity and impurity and prohibitions on the social interaction of Jews with non-Jews. Others were concerned with the decision to suspend the offering for Caesar by the High Priest. (For a bibliography and extensive examination regarding the eighteen decrees see Ben Shalom 1993:252–273.) If we accept the above evidence, it would appear that the laws legislated in the upper room did indeed have social and religious implications for the development of the group of the Sages and the Jewish nation. Furthermore, regardless of the precise decrees issued during this meeting, I have three observations to make concerning it: (i) The nature of the meeting is definitely exclusive; only a chosen few were allowed to participate in this meeting. I suggest that the information disclosed at the meeting no doubt was relevant for the entire group, although only a few members of the group were permitted to be present. In other words, wouldn’t 209

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it have been more proper to arrange the meeting, which had nationwide implications, in a public institution such as the Sanhedrin? In this way, other members would have had the opportunity to participate and contribute to the process of legislation, not to mention the public who could not attend the meeting as passive participants. (ii) Second, the physical construction of the upper room dictated the number of people who could attend the meeting; from archaeological and literary evidence, I deduce that the average size of a considerably large upper room could contain between 10–15 people.58 (For literary and archaeological evidence about the construction of dwellings and the upper room in particular see Hierschfeld 1995:24–44, 245–247.) Consequently, staging the meeting in the upper room no doubt contributed to the exclusivity of the participants. (iii) The upper room appears to have been a place where final legal decisions were made. If my observation is correct, I may conclude that the upper room was used for a legislative body dealing with specialized knowledge that was known only to a few. Let us look at the next case study. According to the story in the Babylonian Talmud, Rabban Gamaliel II appointed seven elders in order to intercalate the month into the year and invited them to come to the upper room early in the morning. The next morning, when Rabban Gamaliel II came to the upper room, he found eight persons instead of seven. He then asked: “Who is the one who came without permission?” Shmuel the Small arose and admitted that he had come without permission. He explained that he wanted to learn the practical law of how to extend the year by observing the proceedings. Rabban Gamaliel II accepted his argument and invited him in, but the Sages did not permit him to participate, arguing that only those who were formally invited were allowed to take part in the meeting (b. Sanhedrin 11a; cf. j. ibid. 1.3, 18a). I deduce the following: (i) The secrecy of the meeting is highlighted by the fact that only those who had permission were allowed to participate in it. Moreover, the fact that the meeting was held in the upper room imposed a physical restriction on the number of people who could be present in the room. (ii) The matter under discussion, namely the intercalation of the year, added force to the principle of secrecy. Generally speaking, it was the exclusive prerogative of the Patriarch to intercalate the Jewish calendar (cf. chapter 3, 58

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This is deduced from the fact that the homes of the wealthy could accommodate between 20–30 people. Thus, if they met in the upper room, it is hard to imagine that they could have had more than fifteen people there.

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pp. 192–197). We may assume that the legislation passed at this meeting had an enormous economic impact on the Jewish community. For example, according to Jewish halakhah, new produce such as wheat, barely, oats, or rye, was not permitted to be used or even harvested until the 16th day of the month of Nissan. On this day the Omer was offered, signifying the new crop (cf. m. Menahot 10.6). Now, if the court decided to intercalate the year by an additional month, the consequence would be that the use of the new crops would be delayed. This meant that farmers could neither sell nor buy crops. In view of this, we can well understand why the procedure of intercalating the year was considered to require highly specialized and arcane knowledge whose structure of secrecy was known only to the supreme leaders. In light of the above examination, I suggest that the upper room constituted a social location for structuring protected knowledge for the supreme leaders of the group. Moreover, the nature of the decisions made during these meetings had an enormous social and religious impact both on the development of the group and on the public. Furthermore, as will be shown in the following chapter, the device of specialized knowledge was not exclusive to the group of the Priests, but was employed in several areas by the group of the Sages. (b) Beit ha’midrash — was it open to all or only to the privileged? The culture of oral law — the sources reveal that there was an ongoing dialectical tension between open and tacit knowledge within the group of the Sages; although Torah study was in theory open to everyone, repeatedly stated in the Tannaitic literature, in reality, it was restricted to the circle of the Sages (cf. Ben-Shalom 1987). The dialectical tension between these two poles will be discussed in chapter 6. Moreover, the relationship between the Master and the Disciple is a classic example which demonstrates that the method by which the student obtained knowledge from his Master. The Disciple of the Sages had to learn by observing and imitating and eventually becoming like his Master. The method of obtaining this type of knowledge demanded total commitment of one to the other and an intensive mutual dependence between the student and his Master. In this way, knowledge was protected by several mechanisms which gave the privileged group exclusive access to it. (For a detailed examination see chapter 3, pp. 185–192.) (c) Moral exclusiveness based on ritual purity and impurity The idea of privacy is reflected in the practice of ritual purity and impurity which in turn created “moral exclusiveness” and legitimized the disassociation of the Sages from other social categories, especially in the private sphere, because of the latter’s inattention to matters of ritual purity and impurity. 211

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The universal culture of the Tannaitic Sages The Tannaitic sources reveal that the group of the Sages conceived of themselves and acted as an elite group, in the sense that they performed several universalistic tasks that served the interests of Jewish society in the social, religious, and political spheres. The Sages present themselves as occupying high positions and assuming a greater responsibility than was expected of them for the community. They appear to have established a limited interdependent system of executive, legislative, and judicial institutions within the limits permitted them by the Roman authorities. They were active in various social and political activities, such as helping the poor, fighting for social justice, teaching the general public, and acting as judges and public supervisors. In the following, I will discuss different components which indicate that the Sages did perceive themselves as a privileged group and acted accordingly. The self-image of the Sages as public servants The following story tells of the nomination of two Disciples of the Sages, R. Johanan ben Nuri and R. Elazar Hisma, who were appointed by Rabban Gamaliel II to supervise the Academy. I charge your judges at that time (Deut. 1.16) … In the past you were independent, but now you are servants of the community. It happened once that R. Johanan ben Nuri and R. Elazar Hisma were appointed by Rabban Gamaliel II (to supervise) the Academy, but the Disciples were not aware of them. In the evening they went and sat among the Disciples. Now it was Rabban Gamaliel’s custom that when he entered and said “ask” [your questions], this meant that there was no reproach, but when he entered and did not say “ask” [your questions], this meant that there was a reproach. He [Rabban Gamaliel II] entered and found R. Johanan ben Nuri and R. Elazar Hisma seated with the Disciples, he said to them: “Johanan ben Nuri and Elazar Hisma, is it your intention to let it be known that you do not seek to dominate the public? In the past you were independent, but from now on you are the servants of the community” (Sifre Deuteronomy 16).

Although the story does not specify the implication of their appointment, i.e. whether they were nominated as presidents of the court house or their status was elevated to regular membership in the Sanhedrin, there is a scholarly consensus that the appointment meant that they were appointed as judges, meaning that they had the right to take religio-legal decisions which encompass a range of legal cases, e.g. capital punishment and criminal cases (Alon 1989:228; cf. Ben-Shalom 1985). The decisive point of the story is that the new appointment of these two figures necessitates that the transformation of their identity role coincides with their public behavior in the court house. When Rabban Gamaliel II realized that these two Sages were mingling with the other 212

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Disciples instead of sitting in their appropriate places and leading the court session, he explained that their conduct symbolically undermined their new positions as leaders of the community. In other words, their new symbols of status had to correspond with their public behavior and their physical positioning within the symbolic hierarchy of the court house had to correspond with their new status. Moreover, when Rabban Gamaliel II declared that the deepest meaning of supervising the public implies that they had become the servants of the community, he further strengthened the notion that in the deepest consciousness of the Sages’ identity they perceived themselves as a privileged group with responsibility for public affairs. Preoccupation with public affairs The idea that the Patriarch Rabban Gamaliel II and the Sages were occupied with public affairs is clearly indicated in the following: When Rabban Gamaliel II and his court were in Jabneh and preoccupied with public needs, they did not interrupt [their work for prayer or recital of shema] so as not to divert their attention (t. Berakhot 2.6).

The intention of the narrative above is to highlight that Rabban Gamaliel II and the members of his High Court were committed to giving first priority to the needs of the public, and that other matters, such as the recitation of shema, were secondary (cf. t. Berakhot 1.2). This shows the dialectical tension between attending to public affairs and at the same time fulfilling the particularistic needs of the group, such as prayer and other moral obligations to which the group of the Sages was committed. Earlier, I mentioned that the Tannaitic Sages were involved in various activities pertaining to social, juridical, religious, and political affairs. Our next task is to organize the range of these activities and to discover how their responsibilities as public supervisors were perceived by the Tannaitic Sages. The Tannaitic Sages as initiators of a system of social welfare The Tannaitic Sages were involved in the process of organizing the system of social welfare. As I will demonstrate in the following, the practice of collecting money (Zedaqa) to help the disadvantaged had a central position in Jewish society. However, the system of social welfare was not the exclusive responsibility of the Sages, but was shared with other leading groups in Jewish society. In the following, I will endeavour to show how the system was organized and to what degree the Sages were involved in it. 213

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The official task of the public supervisor A Disciple of a Sage with a good reputation was recognized, according to Tannaitic tradition, as either having the intellectual ability to comprehend and teach the halakhah or the managerial ability to supervise the public. A Disciple of Sages — you do not know what he is until he teaches the interpretation of Halakhot and Haggadot, or until he is appointed administrator over the community (Sifre Deuteronomy 306; cf. b. Pesahim 113b).

This shows that the group expected its members to take a leading role in public affairs. Moreover, according to the Tosefta, the public supervisor was highly regarded, and the person engaged in such activities was compared to the “mightiest of the mighty” (t. Rosh Hashanah 1.18). R. Simeon says: “Elimelech was one of the great men of his time and one of those who sustained the public” (t. Abodah Zarah 4.4; cf. ARN/A 3; j. Peah 8.4, 21a; and others).

The above evidence and others indicate that some Tannaitic Sages were appointed as public supervisors. However, it is difficult to determine how many of the Sages were in fact appointed as Parnasim. Moreover, the range of functions pertaining to the office of supervisor (parnas) is disputed among scholars. It has been argued that some sources (Tannaitic sources) undoubtedly indicate that the office was concerned with the administration of charity, whereas other sources (documents from the Judean desert, Amoraitic, and others) just as clearly indicate that the supervisor functioned as a community administrator. (For a detailed examination and evidence, see Goodman 1983:121–126; Levine 1989:162–167; Alon 1977:413;59 Z. Safrai 1994b:251–255.) Nevertheless, I would emphasize that the term Parnas in the Tannaitic sources evidently designates a range of activities pertaining mainly to the administration of social welfare, although, as we will see later, the context of the Sages’ activities implies, to various degrees, that they fulfilled administrative tasks in the Jewish community. In Tosefta, the term Parnas refers to a person appointed as a public supervisor whose tasks included charity collection and distribution.

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According to Alon, the designation of the office implies that they were not: “the heads of cities and communities, but spiritual leaders” (Alon 1989:413, n. 113).

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The system of charity collection Money and food was collected and distributed to the disadvantaged in the village. In the following, I will demonstrate how the system of public charity was administered by the public supervisor. The sources mention at least two kinds of collections: (i) The collection of meals for the poor (tamchui): the treasurers (gabbaim) were responsible for collecting meals from the residents of the town on a daily basis. The meals donated were delivered to the poor of the town and to travelers from other places. (ii) Local charity fund (kuppa): the charity fund was money donated by the residents of the town for those who were considered economically disadvantaged. The money was collected by two treasurers on a weekly basis each Sabbath and distributed to the poor by three treasurers (m. Peah 8.7; t. Peah 4.9; t. Baba Mesia 11.23; cf. Goodman ibid.; Levine ibid.; Rosenfeld 1997a:172). It is suggested that those appointed either as treasurers or supervisors over the public were respectable townspeople, and among them were members of the Sages. Their nomination required the consent of the majority of the community (t. Sanhedrin 2.13). Moreover, the sources portray the system as highly organized, with defined norms and rules as to how to run the complex system of charity collection involving the interaction of Jewish communities. An individual who pledged charity in his own town gives it to the poor of his town. [If he pledged to give] in another town, he gives it to the poor of that other town. The charity supervisors who in their own town agree to give charity must give it to the poor of their town. [if they promised it] in another town, they give it to the poor of the other town. Once the charity-supervisors have taken possession of [what he has pledged], he is not permitted to divert it for some other purpose, except with their knowledge and consent (t. Megillah 2.15; cf. t. Sheqalim 2.8; t. Megillah 2.12).

Whether the above description reflects a real engagement in public activities, or an imagined utopia, it highlights the universal ideology of the Sages as a group that sought to promote social justice in their own society by providing practical help for those who were struggling economically. It is important, however, to stress that although the Sages played a major role in creating the institution of social welfare, their role was not exclusive. They had to interact, no doubt, with other leading social agencies like the urban aristocracy. It should be briefly mentioned that the system of social welfare was unique to Jewish society. In the Greek polis, for example, there were no institutions organized to help the needy (for bibliography see Z. Safrai 1994:71, n. 75). 215

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The system of Jewish education There is a consensus among scholars that the Sages contributed immensely to the system of Jewish education during the Tannaitic and Amoraitic periods. Their contribution, as suggested by scholars, was made in the following areas: (i) Jewish education to a great extent consisted of Torah study. (ii) The establishment of a network of schools in every town. This involved the establishment of schools in each town and in smaller settlements. (iii) Structuring the school system, e.g. regulation regarding the age of school attendance, time schedules, vacations, duration of teaching, subjects to be taught, teaching method, and procedures, etc. (For extensive discussion and bibliography see S. Safrai 1976; Goodman 1983:119–134; Z. Safrai 1995:53–63 and others.) The Sages as representative of the Jewish community The Sages portray themselves as the representatives of the Jewish nation. As mentioned earlier, Tannaitic and Talmudic sources indicate that the Patriarch and the Sanhedrin were granted political and religious autonomy by the Roman government. Their self-perception as leaders of the Jewish nation is demonstrated by the frequent visits of Rabban Gamaliel II and his delegations to other countries and their frequent visits throughout the country to represent the Jewish nation and attend to public needs. Let us now look at the evidence: (i) The visit of the Sages of Jabneh to Rome Tannaitic sources mention three prominent figures intimately associated with Rabban Gamaliel II who probably constituted a joint leadership with the Patriarch. These elders are identified in hierarchical order according to their status in the Sanhedrin: R. Joshua, R. Elazar ben Azaria, and R. Aqiba. Many of the sources inform us that these elders often accompanied the Patriarch on his various journeys throughout the land and to Rome, as testified by the following: Rabban Gamaliel II, R. Joshua, R. Elazar ben Azariah, and R. Aqiba were journeying to Rome, they heard the murmuring sound of the (great) city from as far as Puteoli, a distance of one hundred and twenty miles; they started to cry and R. Aqiba laughed (Sifre Deuteronomy 43; cf. m. Erubin 4.1; m. Maaser Sheni 5.9; t. Shabbat 13.14; for an extensive examination of these sources see S. Safrai 1994b).

The examination by S. Safrai reveals that these journeys were of a universalistic nature, and had two purposes: (i) The Patriarch and the Sages often visited Jewish communities in the Diaspora in order to strengthen ties with them, teach them Torah, clarify unresolved halakhic matters, and lead the communities. 216

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(ii) Visits had political significance; the Patriarch and his delegation would come to Rome to present the needs of the Jewish community before the Roman government, such as redeeming captives, as we see in the following story: Once it happened that R. Joshua went to Rome, and they told him: “There is here a child from Jerusalem with beautiful eyes and a handsome face, and he is in danger of being shamed. R. Joshua went … He redeemed him for a huge sum of money and sent him to the Land of Israel” (t. Horayot 2.5–6).

From the story above I may deduce that the Jewish community begged R. Joshua to present their cases before the Roman government regarding the redemption of relatives who were captives of the Roman empire (S. Safrai ibid.). I assume that, as in similar stories, R. Joshua was part of Rabban Gamaliel’s delegation. Once it happened that Rabban Gamaliel II went to get permission from the governor in Syria (m. Eduyyot 7.7).

The term “to get permission” is uncertain. It has been suggested that Rabban Gamaliel II came in order to receive legal permission to judge the public (cf. Golack 1967:25). S. Safrai suggested that he went to have his appointment as Patriarch ratified (S. Safrai 1962). Urbach focused on the actual episode and emphasized that the very act of visiting the governor in Syria is charged with political symbolism, i.e. his visit contributes to his status, both externally and internally. On the one hand, the status of Rabban Gamaliel II as the representative of the Jewish community is given political recognition by the governor. On the other hand, his authority not only derives from the fact that he is a Sage and the head of the High Court, but from his family attribution, i.e. he comes from the House of Hillel which was descended from David (Urbach 1975:599; S. Safrai 1962). Furthermore, I suggest that the purpose of the visit of the Patriarch was to strengthen diplomatic relations with the official governor, seizing the opportunity to clarify social and political matters that were of concern to the Jewish community. The evidence indicates that Rabban Gamaliel II was perceived as the ultimate authority in the Jewish community. Moreover, he alone was entrusted to implement legal decisions on behalf of the governor in Syria. (ii) Traveling throughout the country for the sake of public needs The sources reveal that Rabban Gamaliel II and the Sages not only presided in the High Court but also traveled throughout the country to attend to public needs, maintaining a social bond between the central authority and rural settlements (cf. Urbach 1975:600). This notion is attested in the following story: 217

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Once it happened that Shibayon, the head of the synagogue at Cziv, acquired a fouryear-old vineyard from a Syrian non-Jew and paid for it; and he came and asked Rabban Gamaliel II, who was passing from place to place [about the laws involved]. Rabban Gamaliel II answered: “Wait until we get to our sessions on halakhah” (t. Terumah 2.13).

We are told that while Rabban Gamaliel II and his delegation were visiting different communities, a meeting between Rabban Gamaliel II and the head of the synagogue (who was probably functioning as the head of the community; cf. Goodman 1983:123) was held to clarify certain legal matters he was dealing with. The interesting point in this story is that Rabban Gamaliel II is perceived here as the highest authority on Jewish legal matters. I suggest that the visit to Cziv was used both to clarify unresolved halakhic problems and to strengthen contacts with the leaders of the community and the Jewish community as a whole. Moreover, the notion that Rabban Gamaliel II and the elders visited many cities and villages is mentioned repeatedly in Tannaitic sources: they traveled to Jericho (t. Berakhot 4.15), Lydda (t. Pesahim 10.12), Ashkelon (t. Miqvaot 6.3); Kefar Uthnai (m. Gittin 1.5), Tiberias (t. Shabbat 13.2), Acre (m. Abodah Zarah 3.4), Cziv (t. Pesahim 2.15; t. Terumot 2.13), and Samaritan towns (t. Demai 5.24; cf. Alon 1989:223–234). The purpose of these journeys, as indicated by the sources, was dual; attending to public needs and strengthening group ties. Rabban Gamaliel II and his delegation, together with the local leaders, would solve varioust halakhic matters that involved social, civil, religious, and agricultural affairs. Furthermore, during his visits, Rabban Gamaliel II had the opportunity to update leaders of local communities with respect to new enactments or legal decisions that had been made. In addition, the leaders of local communities would take the opportunity to clarify practical and theoretical issues with the Jewish leadership of the Sanhedrin. In this way, Rabban Gamaliel II and his delegation could strengthen the ties between the religious center at Jabneh and the local communities, and further fortify the connection with the Sages. It should be noted that elsewhere I demonstrated that leaders of local communities would travel to Jabneh in order to discuss and resolve halakhic matters (t. Parah 7.4; cf. m. Parah 7.7; t. Hullin 3.10). Thus, the Tannaitic Sages are depicted as a group that considered itself a privileged group, well-organized and with the authority to intercede on behalf of the public in national matters. The engagement of the Sages in public affairs contributed to a positive interdependence between the group and the general public, which in turn enhanced their political status.

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THE ART OF PERPETUATING POLITICAL POWER BY PRIVILEGED GROUPS

The most influential theories of elites are those of the Italians scholars Pareto (1843–1923) and Mosca (1854–1941), whose ideas contributed much to scholarly debates, especially in sociology and political science. (For a detailed discussion cf. Lamb 1952; Meisel 1965; Bottomore 1993; A. Cohen 1974; 1981; Michels 1962.)

“History is a graveyard of aristocracies” Pareto’s punch line is that “history is a graveyard of aristocracies.” He postulated that the struggle for power is not between those who hold power and the masses, but between different elite groups. He labeled this kind of struggle the “circulation of elites.” Pareto maintained that the phenomenon of circulation of elites can refer to two distinct processes. The first refers to a process in which the elite group is replaced by a counter-elite group, and the second refers to a process of upward or downward mobility of individuals who oscillate between the elite and the “non-elite.” He distinguished two kinds of elite groups that constitute the “superior stratum” as opposed to the “lower stratum” in society. He wrote: “The latter [the superior stratum] in turn can be divided into two groups: those who “directly or indirectly” play a considerable part in governing (and who are referred to as the governing elite and later — and more frequently as the governing class or the governing classes) and the rest of the elite, not in government: the ‘non-governing elite’” (Pareto 1966:51). Pareto’s main objective was to discover the social mechanism by which an elite group could maintain its power. He indicated the following: the success of the group in maintaining its power depends upon the ability of the group to take into consideration new influences which emerge in their society and to transform these factors into a new system directed toward their new goals (cf. Lamb 1952). Pareto suggested that there are two governing principles which are used in order to rule: (a) through the use of physical force; (b) by persuading the masses through an appeal to their sentiments, passions, and interests, which 219

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Gramsci later labeled cultural hegemony. Pareto realized that the elite group not only used the masses but was heavily dependent on them, especially the lower classes from the rural sector. He suggested that there is an interaction based on interdependency between the few and the many: “They (the lower classes) are the roots which feed the flower blossoming into elites” (Pareto in Meisel 1965:12). Pareto considered that if a governing class employed both methods it could “maintain itself for ever,” but since the two methods are mutually exclusive, he predicted that a ruling group is doomed to fall eventually. This conclusion brings us back to the crux of his theory, that history is a graveyard of elite groups (Pareto 1966).

The relationship between a privileged united minority and a diverse majority Pareto’s contemporary, Mosca, shared similar ideas60 but unlike Pareto he offered an alternative theory to explain how the elite group maintains its political power. His fundamental axiom is that in all societies, the privileged minority will always rule the majority. Mosca articulated how the mechanism of power operates in these words: “In all societies — from societies that are very meagerly developed and have barely attained the dawnings of civilization, down to the most advanced and powerful societies — two classes of people appear — a class that rules and a class that is ruled. The first class is always the less numerous, performs all political functions, monopolizes power and enjoys the advantages that power brings, whereas the second, the more numerous class, is directed and controlled by the first” (Mosca 1939:50). In the view of Mosca, there are two interrelated factors which enable a privileged group to perpetuate its power: (i) An elite perpetuates its status as a privileged group by developing organizational mechanisms. When the minority group is organized and is acting in agreement and with mutual understanding it will forever prevail over a diverse majority of people who do not have a common will or the power to dominate. Mosca wrote: “The dominion of an organized minority, obeying a single impulse, over the unorganized majority is inevitable. The power of any minority is irresistible as against each single individual in the majority, who stands alone before the totality of the organized minority. At the same time, the minority is 60

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Mosca’s ideas about the ruling class and the social structure are similar to Pareto’s. For example, he maintained that: “The ruling class, or those who hold and exercise the public power, will be always a minority, and below them we find a numerous class of persons who do never, in any real sense, participate in government but merely submit to it: they may be called the ruled class” (Mosca in Meisel 1965:5–6).

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organized for the very reason that it is a minority” (Mosca 1939:53; cf. Michels 1962; Parry 1969; A. Cohen 1974; 1981).61 He added, however, that it is essential that the organized minority be composed of outstanding individuals: “The individuals who make them up [the ruling minorities] are distinguished from the mass of the governed by qualities that give them certain material, intellectual or even moral superiority” (Mosca 1939:53). (ii) The interdependence between the ruling class and the ruled class. Mosca realized that a dominant minority cannot live isolated from the masses, since it derives its power from the people. In other words, there is a mutual interdependency between the ruling class and the common people. However, Mosca believed that the communication between the ruling class and the ruled class was intermediated by what he called the “transmitters.” He distinguished two layers within the ruling class itself, which are intimately related. The first layer within the ruling class encompasses the official rulers and the second, which is larger, he called the “transmitters,” those who communicate and mediate the order of the high command to the common people. It is thus “the second stratum” within the ruling class which alone is capable of interceding between the “few and the many.” Thus he concluded that the success of the ruling class is highly dependent on this second stratum: “The stability of any political organization depends on the level of morality, intelligence, and activity that this second stratum has attained” (Mosca 1939:404). Mosca further claimed, unlike Marx, that elite groups are not only defined according to the economic production in a society but also by other measurements of stratification. The ruling class, accordingly, can be warriors, religious leaders, intellectual leaders, etc. Mosca based his assumption on numerous empirical observations of different societies (ancient and contemporary). The example of the Priests in Egypt is highly relevant to our discussion: “Oftentimes the Priests not only perform religious functions. They possess legal and scientific knowledge and constitute the class of highest intellectual culture … So in certain periods in ancient Egypt the profession of scribe was a road to public office and power” (Mosca 1939:59). I conclude that Pareto and Mosca lead us to an alternative road which is less traveled by than the road offered so far by Marx.62 They offer an alternative conceptual framework with respect to the question of structural power. It is true that Pareto and Mosca embraced Marx’s fundamental idea that society is divided 61

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Michels, for example, writes in a similar vien: “The chance of success in any struggle will depend upon the degree to which this struggle is carried out upon a basis of solidarity between individuals whose interests are identical.” And elsewhere he writes: “When there is struggle between the leaders and the masses, the former are always victorious if only they remain united” (Michels 1962:61, 168). The usage of the metaphor is inspired by Robert Frost’s: “The Road Not Taken.” 221

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into two major classes, the ruling class and the ruled class, but unlike Marx, they believe that the key to understanding the structure of power in society lies in politics, not in material sources. Moreover, their inventive concepts and vocabulary reveal new aspects of the social phenomenon of the ruling class and the different mechanisms involved in the struggle for power between different groups (cf. Blumer 1969).

The politics of the Sages Applying the theories of Pareto and Mosca, I will show that the group of the Sages did apply several of the components which are characteristic of the privileged group and intended to strengthen its power and perpetuate its status as a privileged group. (i) Inventiveness — Pareto (1966) suggested that one psychological mechanism that enables the group to retain its power was the group’s consideration of changes which had an effect on the society and their ability to alter them and direct them into a new system to advance the group’s interests and new goals. In line with Pareto, Lamb argues that a privileged group might validate its elite status in terms of an ideology designed to convince the ordinary members of society, as well as themselves, of the legitimacy of that status. Moreover, Lamb sees a connection between ideology and social structure: “When elites come to power in periods of crisis, they do so in part by their ability to bring together the community and make new goals and create a new value system which is often suitable for most people of the given society. This system of ideas aims to provide the framework within which the elite organizes a new structure of power and control” (Lamb 1952:34). Accordingly, the elite group must be inventive, meaning that it must provide new answers in times of crisis, or new goals and norms. After the destruction of the Temple, the Jewish nation faced a crisis of faith. It was the Sages under the leadership of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai who took the initiative and sought practical ways of restoring religious life to normal. Their inventive solutions were applied in several dimensions of socioreligious life. On the principle level, there was a transfer from the Temple to the synagogue and home that involved several changes: (1) Abolishing the law of sacrifice carried out by the Priests in the Temple and replacing it with the law of charity and giving it a new interpretation (ARN/A 4.5); (2) Geographical transfer; the High Court moved from Jerusalem to Jabneh. (3) Symbolic transmission; symbols associated with the Temple were transferred to the home and synagogue, like transferring the priestly benediction to every congregation (for extensive discussion regarding the reformation of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai see Alon 1989:86–118). 222

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(ii) Organized minority — an elite group must first be an organized minority. It has to develop an organizational mechanism to allow its members to act in agreement and with mutual understanding when they stand against the diverse public. The organization of the group has already been discussed elsewhere (cf. chapter 3, pp. 170–197). We have seen that the highly structured hierarchy designed to promote cooperation made it possible for them to present themselves as a united group acting in unison in various social settings, such as the local court, the study center, the synagogue, or the market place. (iii) Outstanding individuals — I have already demonstrated that the group of the Sages managed to produce many outstanding individuals with the gift of leadership in time of crisis: Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, Rabban Gamaliel II, R. Tarfon and R. Aqiba, to mention but a few. (iv) The composition of the ruling class — as mentioned earlier, Mosca suggested that there are two interconnected layers within an elite group. The first encompasses the official rulers and the second the “transmitters”, whose task is to communicate and mediate the order of the high command to the common people. Mosca believed the activity of the “mediators” was the ultimate source that enabled the elite group’s success, since they alone were capable of interceding between the rulers and the common people. Mosca certainly leads us to a new landscape of ideas, which reveals to us the rich and complex mechanisms of power which are often disguised. His idea will be explored in the following chapters which deal with the interaction between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz. However, I will briefly mention that when we seek to identify the different actors, I suggest that the official rulers within the group of the Sages were those who occupied commanding positions in various institutional spheres in Jewish society, and they can often be recognized by their honorifics Rabbi or Rabban. The transmitters can be identified as (a) the Disciples of the Sages and the Haverim who bridge the gap and negotiate between the leaders and the common people (cf. chapter 4), and (b) the local leaders who mediate between the general Jewish public and the representatives of the Sanhedrin (cf. case study II in chapter 3, pp. 204–207, 216–218).

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CHAPTER FOUR

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

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MAPPING THE SOCIAL IDENTITY “HAVERIM” 1

The social identity of the Haver is highly relevant to our discussion of the social identity of the Sages and their interaction with ‘Am ha’aretz. As we will see shortly, scholars disagree about the origin and development of the social category Haver and how and in what respect the Haver is related to the group of Sages. I intend to demonstrate in the following, that (a) Haver is a subcategory within the group of the Sages, (b) despite the fact that the category Haver originated during the Second Temple period, the halakhot reference to the Haver in relation to ‘Am ha’aretz reflects the Tannaitic period, and (c) there is a dialectical tension between the ideology of the Sages, which legitimizes the disassociation from the social category ‘Am ha’aretz, and the reality, which reflects “forced” limited interactions with them. Using Mosca’s theory (see chapter 3, pp. 219–222), I would suggest that the Haverim were mediators between the general public and the prominent leaders within the group of the Sages. The definition of the Haver (the associate) in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz According to Tannaitic literature, the term Haver refers to those who belong to the association called Havura. The Haver is often mentioned in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz. He is characterized as one who punctiliously observes the Tannaitic system with respect to the proper separation of tithes and the rules concerning ritual purity and impurity, especially the laws of heave-offering (terumah) and tithing (ma’aser). The Haver, in other words, is defined in religious and not sociocultural terms.

1

It should be noted that the term “Haver” also appears in the Tannaitic corpora in the literal sense, “friend” (e.g. m. Abot 1.6). These instances are not relevant to our discussion which is concerned with “Haver” as a religious category and in relation to ‘Am ha’aretz. 225

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Application for the association (Havura) and entry conditions The Tannaitic sources point out that an individual who wished to become a full member of the association had to go through a rather complicated process of initiation comprised of several stages. For the sake of convenience, I will first present the primary sources which describe the conditions and the process of admission to the association. 1. One who takes upon himself to be a Haver may not sell to an ‘Am ha’aretz wet or dry [produce], nor may he buy from him wet [produce]. He may not be the guest of an ‘Am ha’aretz, nor may he host an ‘Am ha’aretz who is wearing his own clothes (m. Demai 2.3). 2. He who accepts upon himself four things is accepted as a Haver: “He will not give heave-offerings and tithes to an ‘Am ha’aretz; he will not prepare his food in the observance of the laws of ritual purity with an ‘Am ha’aretz; and that he will eat his unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity” (t. Demai 2.2). 3. And they accept [him first] with regards to kenafayim and afterwards they accept [him] with regards to purities … How long before they accept [him]? The House of Shammai says: “For liquids,2 thirty days; for clothing, twelve months.” And the House of Hillel says: “For both, thirty days” (t. Demai 2.11–12).

The sources I have just presented raise some serious problems with respect to the precise process of admission and its practical implications. Scholarly examinations have attempted to arrange the sources in various ways, reconstructing the gradual stages of affiliation which the candidate had to undergo in order to become a full member of the association (Libermann 1952; Rabin 1957; Neusner 1960; cf. Oppenheimer 1977:127–130).3 It is beyond the scope of this chapter to discuss the process of admission in detail. However, I will highlight some of the major components of the process of admission. The process of initiation The halakhah in Tosefta Demai (2.11–12) indicates that the novice had to go through a gradual process during which he was instructed how to become a full member of the association. However, the terms used to denote this process are obscure with respect to their meaning and their implications. I will present some of the problems:

2

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According to Mishna Makhshirin 6.4 there are seven liquids which are liable to be tainted with ritual impurity: dew, water, wine, olive oil, blood, milk, and bee honey (cf. t. Shabbat 8.24–28). In this context the liquids relate to the initiate who is considered reliable with respect to his purity for handling these liquids (cf. Libermann 1952). Oppenheimer rightly points out that it is questionable whether one can deduce from these sources the precise procedure of admission. What is important, he writes, is “its actual existence” (Oppenheimer ibid. 130).

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

(i) It is stated that the candidate was first accepted with regard to “the wings” [Kenafayim] and afterwards with regard to “purities.” The term “Kenafayim” is vague and does not have an equivalent in the entire corpora of Tannaitic literature. It should be emphasized that although the term is traditionally interpreted by most scholars as “cleanness of the hands,” even the Amoraitic Sages of Eretz Israel were not clear as to the exact meaning of the term and the nature of the ruling under discussion (cf. j. Demai 2.3, 23a; Oppenheimer 1977:121–124 and 130). However, it has been generally accepted that the term denotes the washing of the hands before eating and before touching ritually clean food (cf. b. Bekhorot 30b; Libermann 1992, Tosefta Ki-fshutah I, 214–215; 1952; Neusner 1960; Oppenheimer 1977:121–124). (ii) Likewise, the term “purities,” which refers to the second stage, does not specify the actual application. Scholars have often suggested that it refers to the foodstuffs which require preparation in conditions of ritual cleanliness. (Neusner 1960; Oppenheimer 1977:124–15.) (iii) The dispute between the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel regarding the novice’s period of probation indicates that the process of admission was split into two periods. The first was classified as “liquids” and the second as “clothing.” Although scholars have proposed different theories to explain the meaning of these stages, it should be expressly noted, that both of these terms are obscure. Moreover, the sources do not provide us with any additional information to help us understand their precise nature. In light of the above observation, I suggest that although the halakhah in Tosefta Demai (2.11–12) clearly indicates a rather complicated admission process, anchored in clearly defined regulations, it does not provide detailed information about the significance of this process. However, the first two sources indicate that there are two governing principles which define the obligation of the Haver: (a) a strict observance of the laws of ritual purity and impurity, and (b) the meticulous practice of separation of tithes. Moreover, these laws have religious and social implications for the relationship of the Haver with those labeled as ‘Am ha’aretz. (The identity of ‘Am ha’aretz and the nature of interactions are discussed in detail elsewhere, see chapter 4.)

The identity of the social category Haver in relation to the group of the Sages The issue under investigation is the quality of the relationship between the Haver and the group of the Sages. The sources are not explicit as to whether the Haver was a member of the group of the Sages. Some scholars suggest that the Haver belonged to another social group, the association (the Havura), which was 227

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intimately connected to the group of the Sages. Safrai, for example, writes: “The Haverim were not necessarily Sages; naturally there was a connection between the two groups, but they were not identical” (cf. Z. Safrai, unpublished: “Judaism 4 Outside Beit Hamidrash”). Arguments for a distinct identity My investigation has so far revealed that the Haver and the Disciple of the Sage had distinct identities in respect of their social status and appellations. Moreover, they are never mentioned together and they are discussed in different contexts. The Haver, for example, often stands in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz and is associated with matters of ritual purity and impurity and the separation of tithes. On the other hand, the Disciple of the Sage is associated with the son of the Sage or the Sage, and is mentioned with regard to the instruction of Torah and his relationship to the Sage. There are two considerations that might lead us to deduce that the Haver did not belong to the group of the Sages: (i) The Haver is never mentioned in any of the hierarchical lists we have seen in various instances. These lists often mention the president of the Sanhedrin, the Sage, the Disciple of the Sage, and the son of the Sage, but never the Haver. (ii) The main tasks and duties of the Haver stand in contrast to those of the Sage and the Disciple of the Sage; the main task of the Haver was to properly observe the laws of ritual purity and impurity and the separation of tithes, but there is no statement in the entire corpora of Tannaitic literature which explicitly stipulates that the Haver had to study or teach Torah, as is often emphasized with respect to the duties of the Sage or the Disciple of the Sage. Arguments for a common identity Nevertheless, there are three implicit indications that the Haver was conceived of as a subcategory within the group of the Sages. (i) The Haver is addressed in all instances as a member of the group. The Tannaitic and Amoraitic literature discusses in detail the duties and obligations of the Haver, just as it discusses duties of the Sage and the Disciple of the Sage. This is in contrast to other social categories which are presented as counter groups, such as the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz. Moreover, the Amoraitic Sages of Babylon appear to identify themselves with the Haverim and perceive them as their forerunners. This can be shown by the fact that in the Babylon Talmud the dichotomy between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Haver is “transformed” to one between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Disciple of the Sage. In other words, in their 4

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The translation from Hebrew is by the present author.

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

group consciousness there is a historical continuity between the Haverim who stood in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz, and their contemporary equivalents, namely the Disciples of the Sages. (ii) There is one instance in the Tannaitic literature handed down in the name of R. Yehudah, in which the Haver had to express his support for the teaching of Torah: “He should minister in the study house” (‫)משמש בבית המדרש‬ (m. Demai 2.3).5 It is not clear what the expression “to minister in study house” implies in practice. Nevertheless, investigation has shown that the term shamash, meaning to serve, was often a synonym for learning (lamad literarily to learn). In other words, the term shamash stands for a specific educational system in the world of the Sages and elsewhere in Jewish custom. The service the Haver was obliged to provide to the Sage (or the Disciple of the Sage?) in beit ha’midrah exposed him to a lifestyle that was unique to the world of the Sages. The intention of this kind of learning was to absorb, to imitate, and eventually to act like the Master. If we take this evidence at face value, we are still left with the questions: (a) to what degree was the Haver exposed to this kind of teaching, compared with the Disciple of the Sage, and (b) was the teaching restricted to specific social settings such as beit ha’midrash (study house) or did he participate in activities that took place in other public locations, such as the synagogue, the Sanhedrin, and the local court? Was he invited to exclusive private gatherings such as weddings, parties, and funerals? While the available data may not be conclusive, I suggest, on the basis of the above, that the duties of the Haver, e.g. the strict observance of ritual purity and impurity, demanded considerable theoretical and practical knowledge of halakhic matters. This would indicate that an intimate interdependency between the social categories Haver and Sage evolved in a wide range of activities and interactions. (iii) The following text reveals that the Disciples of the Sages and the Sages had to take upon themselves the same obligations as the Haver, indicating that there is an “invisible” hierarchical order within the rabbinical ranks that coincides with tasks and duties, and as a consequence, the Haver should probably be considered to be of lower status than the Disciple of the Sage. He who comes to take upon himself [the obligation of the Havurot] even if he is a Disciple of the Sage, must take upon himself [must make a formal declaration, public declaration]. But a Sage who sits in session [in beit ha’midrash] does not have to take upon himself [formally and publicly]. For he has taken upon himself 5

J. Epstein (1948) preferred an alternative version which stated: “in the House of m” (“‫המ‬ ‫)”בבית‬. He suggested that it refers to either the banquet house (‫ )בית המשתה‬or the bath house (‫ )בית המרחץ‬since both of these terms begin with the letter m. In other words, he rejects the idea that the term shamash relates to the practice of Torah study (ibid. 1210). 229

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from the moment he entered the session [in the court]. Abba Saul says: “Even a Disciple of a Sage does not need to take upon himself [formally and publicly].” Furthermore, others take upon themselves [the obligation of the Havurot] in front of him (t. Demai 2.13; cf. j. Demai 22d–23a).

The above text reveals that there was dissension between two traditions: one maintained that the Sage was not compelled to take upon himself the obligation of the Haver. His position as a judge in the court meant, by default, that he had already assumed the obligation, whereas, in the case of the Disciple of the Sage this was uncertain. The other maintained that the status of the Disciple of the Sages was equal to that of the Sage. However, both traditions hold that the Disciple of the Sage and the Sage had to assume the same obligations as were imposed on the Haver. Z. Safrai claims that the above text does not reflect historical reality but was written in order to create the image that every Disciple of a Sage was a Haver (cf. Z. Safrai, unpublished: “Judaism Outside Beit Ha’midrash”). The crucial point for us, as stated earlier, is not to verify the authenticity of these halakhot but to focus on the self-presentation of the Sages who appear to have identified themselves with the social category Haver. The Haver is perceived as a subcategory within the group of the Sages; in the process of becoming a Disciple of a Sage one must assume the obligations of the Haver. In other words, the category Haver is inferior to the Disciple of the Sage. I conclude that the Haver is a subcategory of the Sage, although it is difficult to pinpoint the quality of the relationship between these two categories.

Dating the social category Haverim Scholars disagree with respect to the origin and development of Haverim. Some argue that the social category Haverim originated during the Second Temple period and was a widespread social phenomenon during the last decades of the Second Temple (S. Safrai 1957; Alon 1977:205–234; Urbach 1975:583–588; Oppenheimer 1977:17, 118–151), but that it ceased to exist after the destruction of the Temple (Urbach ibid.; Oppenheimer ibid.). Others maintained that the social phenomenon Haverim was a post-Temple phenomenon (Büchler 19646; S. J. D. Cohen and L. Schiffman7).

6

7

230

Büchler, for example, ascribed the association to the period of Usha (approximately 135 C.E.) and identified them with the Priests of Galilee. Büchler’s theory is subjected to a detailed critical analysis by Alon (1977:205–234). These statements were made at a conference at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem: “ ‘Common Judaism’ or a Plurality of ‘Judaisms’ in Late Antiquity: The State of Debate,” May 13–16, 2003.

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

I will argue that the social phenomenon of the association was widespread during the last decades of the Second Temple and continued throughout the Tannaitic period. (i) The resemblance of the Havura to the Dead Sea group indicates that they stem from the same period and originated in the same sitz im leben. Scholars have already pointed out that although there are profound differences between the two associations, the similarities between the Haverim and the Dead Sea documents are striking, especially with regard to the way that the member is admitted into the association, regulations concerning ritual purity, and the usage of phrases and expressions. (For scholarly examination and bibliography see Oppenheimer 1977:147, n. 93). (ii) There are certain halakhot in the Tannaitic literature which are handed down in the name of Hillel and Shammai. (iii) Furthermore, scholars suggest that the laws given in the name of R. Yehudah [Bar Ilai] are additional restrictions imposed on the Haver during the Tannaitic period, such as the following (Neusner 1960; Oppenheimer 1977:127). R. Yehudah said: “He may also not breed small cattle, nor may he be addicted to making vows or to laughter, nor may he defile himself with the dead, but he must be an attendant in the house of study.” They, however, said to him: “These [rules] do not come within the general rules [governing membership in an association]” (m. Demai 2.3; cf. ARN/A 41).

(iv) The assumption that the Haverim continued to exist during the Tannaitic period is deduced from the general statement made in the name of Simeon ben Gamaliel (ca. 100 C.E.) about a second generation of the Haverim namely the “sons of the Haverim.” Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel says, a Haver who has gone astray is not like a son of a Haver who has gone astray (t. Demai 2.14; cf. ibid. 3.8).

(v) The coexistence between the Sages, the Disciples of Sages, and Haverim in the Tannaitic narratives also indicates that the Sages did not replace the Haverim as Urbach and Oppenheimer argue (cf. chapter 4, pp. 234–236). (vi) The Tannaim refer to the Haverim in the present tense, as opposed to the polemic between the Sadducees and the Pharisees, which is related in the past tense (cf. chapter 3, pp. 102–114).

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MAPPING THE SOCIAL IDENTITY “ ‘AM HA’ARETZ”

All that has been said about ‘Am ha’aretz revolves around the pivotal assumption that indeed such a “class” or “group” existed as a social reality, bitterly alienated from the Sages. I intend to demonstrate (a) that in fact no such social group or social class existed, but rather that ‘Am ha’aretz was a virtual identity created by the Sages to stigmatize Jews both in the priestly group and the general Jewish public, (b) the consensus among Talmudic scholars that animosity existed between the Sages and the ‘Am ha’aretz is to be found only in the Babylonian Talmudic literature, not in the Jerusalem Talmud literature; in Tannaitic literature, in fact, we even find a limited interdependency between them. When working with the issue of mapping the social identity of ‘Am ha’aretz there is a striking consensus among scholars that there was animosity between the Sages and the ‘Am ha’aretz. Levine’s statement may illustrate my point: “Many second-century rabbis harbored deep feelings of animosity towards those Jews known as ammei ha’aretz. They forbade marrying or even socializing with them, eating with them, living in close proximity to them, hosting or visiting them on a journey, moreover, the ‘Am ha’aretz was regarded as untrustworthy in legal matters, and was categorized with the insane, the deaf-mute, and the minor, all of whom were disqualified from offering testimony (Levine 1989:30). In view of this, many scholars over the last two centuries have proposed various theories to explain why and how the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Sages was characterized by hostility. 1. Zeitlin (1932), using the Bible, Josephus, and Talmudic literature as complementary sources, tried to reconstruct the historical development of the social identity of ‘Am ha’aretz and explain the animosity that existed between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Tannaitic Sages. His basic assumption is that Jewish society in the Second Temple period was comprised of two classes. ‘Am ha’aretz constituted the lower class; they were the masses, the farmers who lived mainly in the villages and worked in 232

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

agriculture.8 They are contrasted with the ruling group, first represented by the Priests and Levites and later by the Haverim (the forerunners of the Sages). The Haverim were city dwellers who constituted the intellectual class. The relationship between the two classes is characterized by antagonism, with little if any interaction between them. Zeitlin added that the differences between the lower and the upper classes in Jewish society were not only social and economic, but also cultural. ‘Am ha’aretz was perceived as ignorant and stood in contrast to the Haverim, who were cultivated, observed the law, and were strict in their observance of the laws of purity. Zeitlin described the relationship between the two classes in the following manner: “Before the destruction of the Temple, the Am haaretz hated the learned and privileged class, as the latter would not associate with them, and many religious laws were enacted against them. The aristocracy looked down on Am haaretz, but did not hate them; after the destruction of the Temple an intense animosity for each other sprang up in both classes” (Zeitlin 1932:56).9 2. The turning point in the examination of the ‘Am ha’aretz was Büchler’s (1964) extensive work on the Galilean ‘Am ha’aretz. In his examination of the vast number of statements relating to ‘Am ha’aretz in Talmudic sources, Büchler made a basic distinction between two concepts of ‘Am ha’aretz: (i) ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah denoted those who were ignorant of the Torah. It was used at different periods and referred to Judea. (ii) ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot refers to those commandments which ‘Am ha’aretz were suspected of not observing in accordance with rabbinical norms. These are mainly statements and halakhot dealing with tithes (‫)מעשרות‬, the Sabbatical year (‫)שביעית‬, and ritual purity and impurity (‫)דיני טהרה וטומאה‬. Büchler believed that these halakhot were stipulated in the period of the Usha academy (approximately 135 C.E.)10 in Galilee.11 Büchler’s main focus was ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot. He further argued that the halakhot that deal with priestly law, such as ritual purity and impurity and eating terumah (heave-offering) in a state of purity, were directed mainly at the priestly Haverim and the priestly ‘Am ha’aretz. 8

9

10

11

It should be emphasized that Zeitlin sought to show that the term ‘Am ha’aretz underwent a change through time and denoted different designations during the early Tannaitic period and afterwards. Zeitlin suggested that the term was first applied to farmers, then it referred to the early Christians, and in later Tannaitic literature it became a general designation not only for farmers and early Christians, but also a derogatory appellation used by the rabbis for all those considered crude, immoral, or who did not observe the law. Whatever the case, the ‘Am ha’aretz constituted the lower class of the Jewish society. Similar ideas to that of Zeitlin are shared by various scholars, such as Baron and Finkelstein in Oppenheimer 1977:4, n. 15). Büchler (1964), nevertheless, explained that some of the halakhot, especially those relating to ritual purity, originated after the destruction of the Second Temple, but a great number of them were stipulated in the generation of Usha and were used primarily by the Priests. In view of Büchler’s suggestion, many scholars located ‘Am ha’aretz in the Galilee. 233

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3. Urbach (1975) accepted the basic division suggested by Büchler between ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot and ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah, but rejected the implications of his theory and his basic idea that the center of ‘Am ha’aretz was the Galilee and that it was limited to the period of the Usha academy. Urbach “reversed” Büchler’s basic division and came up with the following suggestions: (i) ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot originated much earlier than Büchler suggested, during the last decades of the Second Temple, and not in the Galilee, but mainly in Judea. The members of ‘Am ha’aretz, who came from the lower classes representing the “broad masses” stood in contrast to the Haverim who formed the upper class in Jewish society and were meticulously observant of separation of tithes and of ritual purity. However, despite the hostility between the two and the fact that it created class division, there was a limited interaction between them. This idea is indicated by the fact that numerous halakhot were stipulated in order to standardize the relationship between them and they encompass a wide range of social interactions (ibid. 583–588). (ii) The term ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah, according to Urbach, emerged after the destruction of the Temple and was due to the decline of the Havurot and Torah study, which had a dominant place in Jewish society. Urbach further suggested that it was no longer the Haverim who formed the upper stratum of Jewish society but Torah scholars whom he defines as “Sages Haverim.” Accordingly, Urbach portrayed the ‘Am ha’aretz as those who did not follow in the footsteps of the scholars and consequently the scholars used the concept ‘Am ha’aretz to denote two characteristics: (a) one who is not learned in Torah and does not study it, and (b) one who does not strictly observe the commandments of ritual purity and impurity and is suspected of not separating tithes properly. Urbach, in other words, identified ‘Am ha’aretz as those who were faithful to Judaism but deviated from rabbinic norms, and this, he explained, was the cause of the animosity between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Sages (ibid. 632–644).12 4. Oppenheimer’s extensive and systematic composition “The ‘Am Ha-Aretz” (1977) is perhaps the most influential work of modern scholarship. He rejects the theory of Zeitlin and Büchler, and to a great extent follows the main ideas, arguments, and conclusions of Urbach. Like Urbach, he identifies ‘Am ha’aretz as the masses, the ordinary people who lived both in the rural villages and in the cities. They were ordinary Jews who were faithful to Judaism but “refused to accept the principles of the Oral Law” (Oppenheimer 1977:22). The term ‘Am ha’aretz is used to show the Sages’ criticism or scorn for a person or a group who did not strictly observe the commandments concerning agriculture and ritual purity and who were considered ignorant and unlearned with regard to the Torah. Although Oppenheimer makes the general statement that ‘Am ha’aretz constituted “a social 12

234

A similar idea is presented by Alon 1989:677–678.

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

stream which belongs to no defined class” (Oppenheimer 1977:21), he often repeats the fact that they came from the lower classes. In both instances, ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot or la-torah: “is used as a derogatory designation of one at the bottom of the social ladder” (ibid. 12). And: “Whoever was not scrupulously observant of these commandments was defined as an ‘Am ha’aretz and assigned to the lowest social class” (ibid. 17). Oppenheimer’s main contribution is that he offers an extensive examination of the vast evidence in Talmudic literature regarding the statements and halakhot about ‘Am ha’aretz, and provides an alternative interpretation to those offered so far. In Oppenheimer’s view, the term ‘Am ha’aretz le-mitzvot designates the period of the last decades of the Second Temple until the period of Jabneh. Like Urbach, Oppenheimer explains that during this period, the laws of ritual purity were the focal point of Jewish society and the main source of its division into classes. In this context, ‘Am ha’aretz stands in contrast to the Haver. Like Urbach, Oppenheimer affirms that although there are many laws which testify to an “unbridgeable gap” between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Haver (including the Pharisees), there are other pieces of evidence which bear witness to interaction in different social locations in everyday life and which reflect friendship between the two groups.13 ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah designates the period of Usha onwards.14 Oppenheimer asserts that although these appellations reflect mainly the period of Usha, it can be subdivided into two periods: (i) From the period of Usha until the end of the Tannaitic period. Like Urbach, Oppenheimer explains that after the destruction of the Temple, the commandments regarding tithes and ritual purity continued to be observed, but it was the study of Torah that received greater attention in Jewish life. The national-religious leadership of the Sages took upon itself the task of uniting the nation by (a) creating a focus which was centered on Torah learning, and (b) creating equal opportunities between the different classes and reducing friction between the various groups and sects. This included replacing the decisions of the Haverim. This task was given to the Disciples of the Sages, who were mainly engaged in transmitting knowledge of Torah to the people. In this period it was the Disciple of the Sage who was the spiritual successor of the Haver who stood in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz. The relationship between them is characterized by mutual hatred and hostility, with hardly any points of contact between the two groups. Oppenheimer explains that the animosity between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz was attributable to the fact that the Sages (the Disciples of the Sages) developed an awareness as an elite group which was 13

14

For example, there is a considerable number of laws on tithes which indicate friendship between the two groups: they intermarried, they lived in a close proximity to each other, and Amei ha’aretz could be admitted to the Havura. Oppenheimer explains that the centrality of Torah study after the destruction of the Temple produced the designation ‘Am ha’aretz la-torah. 235

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intellectual in character and was in contrast to ‘Am ha’aretz, who came from a lower class and were ignorant with regard to the study of Torah: “The tendency was to establish an exclusive class of Sages enjoying special privileges by reason of their engaging in its study. This created a social stratification whose basic principle was the study and the knowledge of Torah, with the talmid hakham, learned in the Torah, accorded the highest status, and the ‘am ha-aretz, ignorant in the Torah and lacking any desire to engage in its study, assigned to the lowest rank in society” (Oppenheimer 1977:18). (ii) From the third century and beyond. The concept ‘Am ha’aretz gradually fell into disuse. ‘Am ha’aretz began to receive more recognition in the area of ethics as a “healthy social component” in Jewish society. As a consequence, there were more interactions between the two groups (ibid. 188–195). From the above review it appears that there are two basic assumptions: (a) ‘Am ha’aretz belongs to the lower social classes of Jewish society; (b) the relationship between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz during the Tannaitic period was characterized by mutual animosity. In the following, I will demonstrate that these two basic assumptions are invalid.

‘Am ha’aretz: A social stratum, a social group, or a social category? Did ‘Am ha’aretz belong to a defined social stratum within Jewish society? It has been shown elsewhere (chapter 1, pp. 11–15) that the concept “class” is frequently employed without any theoretical refinement, and the utilization and applicability of the concept is disregarded. As a result of this lack of attention, many scholars contribute to greater confusion rather than illumination with regard to the mapping of the social category of ‘Am ha’aretz. Moreover, on examining the evidence, it seems that ‘Am ha’aretz come from various socio-economic backgrounds in Jewish society. I will demonstrate that ‘Am ha’aretz did not belong to a certain social stratum or class. Moreover, according to the social stratification described in the Tannaitic literature, ‘Am ha’aretz is nowhere defined as a social stratum or a class such as the Priests, Levites, or Israelites. Furthermore, ‘Am ha’aretz is defined according to religious rather than socioeconomic or cultural criteria. Does the term ‘Am ha’aretz refer to a social group? Can we define ‘Am ha’aretz as a social group in the same way that we identify the Priests or the Sages? I will argue that ‘Am ha’aretz cannot be defined 236

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

as a social group, since they did not share the features characteristic of a social group such as the group of the Priests or the Sages. As noted in previous chapters, a social group shares the following main features: (i) Members of the group have a consciousness of their common identity, perceiving themselves as belonging to the same group. They are also identified by others as belonging to the group. (ii) The members of the group interact and influence each other, and their interdependency is structured by certain roles and status. (iii) The group members usually share certain cultural symbols that are taught by the members of the in-group and by which they recognize one another. These may be cultural traits such as values, specific practices or beliefs, world view, and common interests. (iv) The social groups are formally organized. What distinguishes a social group from a temporary gathering is its organization and the group may develop a highly structured organization. ‘Am ha’aretz did not share any of these characteristics. Nowhere in the Tannaitic literature is there the slightest indication that those labeled ‘Am ha’aretz had a consciousness of their common identity or that they identified themselves as belonging to the same group. There is no mutual interdependence between them nor any signs that they were influenced by the social activities of the group. They did not share any cultural symbols nor were they formally organized. ‘Am ha’aretz, in other words, is a “silent public,” in the sense that we do not know what they thought about themselves. I therefore conclude that the term ‘Am ha’aretz cannot refer to a specific social class or a social group.

‘Am ha’aretz as a stigmatized social category I would suggest that ‘Am ha’aretz is a social category which is defined by others and which is stigmatized. Moreover, the term ‘Am ha’aretz can refer either to Jews within Jewish society or to Priests who are stigmatized. I will first provide a theoretical framework for my suggestions with regard to the definition of social category, stigmatization, and the usage of virtual social identity. The definition of social category As already mentioned, anthropologists maintain that the term social category is intimately related to cultural category. This means that social category is defined as a particular collection of culturally or socially relevant attributes. The basic attributes which constitute a social category are often 237

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gender, ethnic origin, age, and profession: men, women, Jews, lawyers, prostitutes, etc. (Keesing 1981).15 Seymour-Smith (1986) adds that a social category is created by the other, whom she calls the “observer.” The observer is the one who creates the classification of a person according to a characteristic or characteristics selected by that observer (ibid 34). Thus, the social category exists in the mind of the observer, not in the mind of the one being observed. In the following, I will demonstrate that it is the Sages who classify the social category ‘Am ha’aretz, according to certain social and cultural traits. Stigma and social identity The social psychologist Goffman (1963) explains that the concept stigma refers to the attitude of categorizing the other with certain attributes through the use of a derogatory expressions or metaphor in daily discourse, thus deeply harming his or her reputation. The person or the collective being stigmatized is reduced in the observer’s mind from a whole and innocuous person to a ritually polluted, defective one who is to be shunned. Goffman states that the process of stigmatization legitimizes discrimination by constructing an ideology to explain the person’s inferiority and accounts for the danger that the other represents. Stigma: The blind man’s walking stick Goffman offers us a further insight: Stigmatization involves the process of metonymy (“a part for the whole”), whereby one trait or a few traits typify the entire category. The blind man’s walking stick will serve to illustrate his point. The observer sees the stick and hence thinks only about the blindness of the man. Whether he is married or not, whether he is a lawyer or a textile worker, whether he is atheistic or religious, lazy or crazy, is irrelevant to him. In other words, stigma functions like the walking stick; one focuses on one thing and disregards all other attributes of this person (or category of the person). The transformation of actual social identity to virtual social identity Goffman makes a distinction between virtual social identity and actual social identity and reveals to us that in the process of stigmatization, discrepancies 15

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Keesing (1981) defined a cultural category as a “set of entities in the world — people, things, events, supernatural — that are classed as similar for some purposes, because they have in common one or more culturally relevant attributes … Thus any single entity can be classed, in varying contexts, as belonging to dozens of different cultural categories. A category of human beings, grouped conceptually because of some socially relevant features they share (like men or warriors or descendants of ancestor X), we can call a social category” (ibid. 213).

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

between the virtual social identity and the actual social identity may be created by reclassifying the actual social identity of a person or a collective from a “socially anticipated category” to another anticipated social category which is virtual. I will now turn to our sources and examine them in light of the above theories. The Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz ‘Am ha’aretz is defined by the “observer,” in our case the Sages, in the following manner: Who is considered ‘Am ha’aretz? “Anyone who does not eat his unconsecrated food in conditions of cultic cleanness,” says R. Meir. And the Sages say: “Anyone who does not [properly] separate tithes” (t. Abodah Zarah 3.10).16

I deduce from the above that ‘Am ha’aretz refers to a member within Jewish society who kept the Jewish laws, but not to the standard and to the extent of the Sages. Moreover, the Jewish collective (whoever they may be) are defined by the “observer” as ‘Am ha’aretz since they share certain religious characteristics. Accordingly, these two characteristics denote: a) a person who lacks the meticulous observance of ritual purity, and b) a person who is indifferent to the tithing of produce. Thus, the Sages created the classification ‘Am ha’aretz according to certain religious characteristics pertaining mainly to tithes and ritual purity. Moreover, ‘Am ha’aretz exists in the consciousness of the Sages and is defined according to religious characteristics rather than socio-economic or cultural criteria. In other words, ‘Am ha’aretz is a social category that has been reclassified from an actual social identity to a virtual identity. Furthermore, the characteristics attributed to ‘Am ha’aretz are often stereotyped negatively. ‘Am ha’aretz is disapproved of, since he lacks the values that are highly cherished by the group of the Sages, such as the meticulous observance of ritual purity and impurity and of separating tithes. In other words, the actual social identity of a Jew, e.g. a Levite or Israelite, labeled by the Sages as ‘Am ha’aretz, is transformed into a virtual identity and he is reduced from a whole person to ritually polluted one who is to be avoided without even knowing it or having the ability to deny it. 16

It should be stressed that none of the various definitions in the Babylonian Talmud depicting ‘Am ha’aretz as one who is ignorant with regard to the observance of Jewish laws appear in the Tannaitic literature: Who is ‘Am ha’aretz: “Anyone who does not recite the shema evening and morning. This is the view of R. Eliezer. R. Joshua says: “Anyone who does not put on tephillin.” Ben ‘Azzai says: “Anyone who does not have tzitzit on his garment.” R. Nathan says: “Anyone who does not have a mezuzah at his door. R. Nathan ben Joseph says: “Anyone who has sons and does not bring them up to a study of the Torah” (b. Berakhot 47b; cf. b. Gittin 61a; b. Sotah 21b–22a; b. Menahot 99b; b. Nedarim 49a). 239

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I would suggest that the blind man’s walking stick in our case is “not eating secular food in ritual purity” or “not separating tithes properly,” and these two features were a broad metonym employed to stigmatize the general Jewish public. The blind man’s walking stick makes people forget about whether the Jew labeled ‘Am ha’aretz is a man or woman, whether he is Levite or Israelite, whether he is a cultivated person, whether he is a city dweller or farmer, etc. The blind man’s walking stick does not need to be a real trait of a person or a group in order to function as a stigma. Moreover, the rumor about ‘Am ha’aretz, that he does not separate tithes properly, need not be true in order to function as the blind man’s walking stick. From the above, I would uggest that ‘Am ha’aretz does not belong to any specific stratum or a class. In fact he belongs to the “silent Jewish public” that is stigmatized by the group of the Sages. The Priests known as ‘Am ha’aretz There are certain halakhot in the Tannaitic literature that refer to certain Priests as ‘Am ha’aretz, such as the following. He who takes upon himself four things is accepted as a Haver: that he will not give heave-offering and tithes to an ‘Am ha’aretz (t. Demai 2.2; cf. ARN/A 41 m. Demai 2.3; m. Horayot 3.8; t. Horayot 2.10; ARN/A 26).

As shown elsewhere, a person who became a member of the Haverim was prohibited from giving heave-offerings and tithes to ‘Am ha’aretz. The identification of ‘Am ha’aretz with the Priest is deduced from the fact that only the Priests were entitled to receive heave-offerings. By stigmatizing the Priest as ‘Am ha’aretz the Sages in fact transform his actual social identity into a virtual one. Moreover, by reclassifying the Priest as an ‘Am ha’aretz, the Sages seriously damage his reputation, implying that he is not worthy to be called a Priest nor to enjoy the privileges he is entitled to, such as receiving the heave-offering. The following ruling legitimizes such a practice: One may leave heave-offering in the keeping of an Israelite who is an ‘Am ha’aretz, but one may not leave heave-offering in the keeping of a Priest who is an ‘Am ha’aretz since he is shameless regarding it (t. Demai 4.28).

The ruling above refers to the Priests in a derogatory manner. The stigmatization of the Priests as ‘Am ha’aretz is explained by their unbefitting behavior. Nevertheless, the Tanna does not offer any concrete explanation to justify the stigmatization of the Priests, as we saw in the case of the Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz. Are we to assume that these Priests did not properly observe the rules of ritual purity and impurity according to the standard of the Sages and therefore were not entitled to receive heave-offerings? As shown elsewhere, 240

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it was imperative for the Priests to eat the heave-offering in a state of ritual purity, a condition which demanded a particular lifestyle characterized by constant physical purification and sanctification. In other words, living in a state of ritual purity was their “economic insurance.” The Sages are quite specific as to what this behavior entails. Therefore, we must look for an alternative explanation. In the next chapter, I will argue that stigmatization of the Priests as ‘Am ha’aretz derives partly from the general policy of the Sages that aimed at restricting the economic monopoly of the Priests who did not belong to the group of the Sages (cf. chapter 5, pp. 259–262). I conclude that ‘Am ha’aretz is a social category used by the group of the Sages to refer either to the general Jewish public or to the group of the Priests. In both cases, the term is derogatory.

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THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE SAGES AND ‘AM HA’ARETZ ACCORDING TO THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD

The theories that seek to reconstruct the relationship between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz raise serious methodological problems with regard to the way in which they use the literary sources. The theory of Oppenheimer (1977), which seeks to reconstruct the different relationship that existed on the one hand, between the Haver and ‘Am ha’aretz, and on the other hand, between the Disciple of the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz, brings to light the wide gap between the Tannaitic and Babylonian sources. When he examines the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Haverim, he uses mainly the Tannaitic literature, which depicts a positive interaction on different social levels in everyday life, such as intermarriage, the possibility for ‘Am ha’aretz to become a member of the Havura, and the fact that the members of both groups live in close proximity. Whereas when describing the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Disciples of the Sage, in order to demonstrate the mutual antagonism between them, he uses mainly evidence from the Babylonian Talmud.17 One cannot ignore the fact that the derogatory attitude towards ‘Am ha’aretz, expressed mainly in the Babylonian Talmud, is not found in the Tannaitic literature or in the Amoraitic sources from Eretz Israel (cf. S. J. D. Cohen 1992). It is therefore perplexing that most Talmudic scholars never really bother to question the validity of the Babylonian Talmud as a historical source, but rather use it interchangeably with the Tannaitic sources, as if they were complementary units. In his comprehensive analysis of tractate Pesahim in the Babylonian Talmud, Wald (1994) noted that historians18 dealing with Jewish society during the Talmudic period have shown considerable interest in tractate Pesahim 49a+b, 17

18

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It should be emphasized that Oppenheimer himself is well aware of the lack of credibility of the Babylonian text as a historical source. He states that the treatment of ‘Am ha‘aretz in the Babylonian Talmud is harsher than in the Palestinian sources and argues that the concept is mainly “theoretical.” He refers mainly to the work of Oppenheimer (1977) and Levine (1989).

The relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz

since it offers a major corpus of sources that reflect a mutual hostility between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz. We will take a closer look at some of the instances of alleged animosity towards ‘Am ha’aretz as expressed in tractate Pesahim 49a+b: 1. One should not marry the daughter of ‘Amei ha’aretz, because they are detestable and their wives are parasites, and of their daughters it is said: “Cursed be he that lieth with any manner of beast.” 2. R. Elazar said: “An ‘Am ha’aretz, it is permitted to stab him [even] on the Day of Atonement which falls on the Sabbath.” Said his Disciples to him: “Master, say to slaughter him [ritually]?” He replied: “This [ritual slaughter] requires a benediction, whereas that [stabbing] does not require a benediction.” 3. One must not join company with an ‘Am ha’aretz on the road. 4. One may tear an ‘Am ha’aretz like a fish. 5. R. Aqiba said: When I was an ‘Am ha’aretz I said: “I wish that I had a Disciple of Sage [before me], and I would maul him like an ass.” Said his Disciples to him: “Rabbi, say like a dog!” He answered them: “The former bites and breaks the bones, while the latter bites but does not break the bones.” 6. R. Hiyya taught: “Whoever engages in the study of Torah in the presence of an ‘Am ha’aretz is like one who cohabits with his fiancée in his presence.” 7. Greater is the hatred wherewith the ‘Amei ha’aretz hate the Disciple of Sage than the hatred wherewith the heathens hate Israel, and their wives [hate even] more than they. 8. Six things were said of the ‘Amei ha’aretz: “We do not commit testimony to them; and one should not accept testimony from him; we do not reveal a secret to them; we do not appoint them as guardians for orphans; we do not appoint them as guardians over charity funds; and we must not join their company on the road. Some say: “We do not proclaim their losses either.”

From the evidence above it is easier to understand why Talmudic scholars describe the relationship between ‘Am ha’aretz and the Sages in terms of mutual hostility. Wald’s analysis, however, reveals that there is a general tendency in the Babylonian Talmud to take certain halakhic sayings from one context to another and attribute them to prominent Tannaitic Sages of Eretz Israel, such as R. Aqiba and R. Meir. He suggests that these sayings went through radical changes in both form and content. His investigation also shows that these statements have no equivalent in the Jerusalem Talmud or in any other ancient literature (Mishna and Tosefta). Wald defines it as an exclusive “Babylonian” phenomenon that often repeats itself in various halakhic matters (cf. Wald 1994; Efron 1984; S. J. D. Cohen 1992).19 19

Efron is one of the few scholars who questioned the authenticity of the Babylonian Talmud depiction of historical reality during the Tannaitic period. His general statement is that the two sources are intrinsically different as historical sources and have distinct attitudes with respect to time, atmosphere, and locality. Similarly, S. J. D. Cohen states that “The evidence for hatred between the rabbis and the amei ha’aretz derives exclusively from the Babylonian 243

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Dehumanization of ‘Am ha’aretz One example of this hostility is the process of dehumanization. ‘Am ha’aretz is compared to an animal or to a human being of lower status. The violence which the Sages express against ‘Am ha’aretz is described in terms of the violent behavior human beings exert on animals. Wald’s examination demonstrates that the comparison of the relationship between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz to the relationship between human beings and animals is not found in other sources. However, the dehumanization of certain groups is found in earlier sources related to people such as gentiles or slaves. Wald’s suggestion is that the intention of the editors was to take texts that originally applied to the gentiles and use them against ‘Am ha’aretz. Thus, they take halakhic statements out of their specific context (in our case the gentiles) and apply them to ‘Am ha’aretz, without any historical foundation. Wald’s conclusion is in line with Efron’s earlier examination of the usage of Talmudic sources. Like Efron, Wald suggests that the Babylonian Amoraites displaced the body of the events from their original context, and this gap was created because of the distance in time and atmosphere and the need for local interpretation. In other words, the editors of the Babylonian Talmud revised the account of ‘Am ha’aretz according to their needs and typical world view, giving a typological interpretation to validate their sitz im leben (Wald 1994; cf. Efron 1984).

Talmud … There is no way to verify the authenticity of this material, but the fact that these statements and the ethos they represent are completely absent from Palestinian text raises serious doubts” (S. J. D. Cohen 1992:167). 244

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THE PORTRAYAL OF ‘AM HA’ARETZ ACCORDING TO THE JERUSALEM TALMUD

The idea that mutual hatred between the Disciples of the Sages and the ‘Am ha’aretz is exclusively a Babylonian phenomenon, as Wald concludes, is further supported by the fact that a detailed examination of the Jerusalem Talmud reveals that the animosity between the Disciples of the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz is hardly mentioned. In fact, there is a logical consistency between the report of the Tannaitic and Amoraitic Sages of Eretz Israel in which ‘Am ha’aretz stands in contrast to the Haver and not to the Disciple of the Sage. Moreover, in the entire folio of the Jerusalem Talmud there is only one instance which is not mentioned in the Tannaitic literature, where ‘Am ha’aretz and the Disciple of the Sage are mentioned. A Disciple of the Sage drinks wine with good results; an ‘Am ha’aretz drinks with disastrous results (j. Maaser Sheni 4.6, 55c).

The above contains a general statement that the Disciple of the Sage is superior to ‘Am ha’aretz. Moreover, the evidence in the Jerusalem Talmud does not show that there is animosity between the two groups, nor does it testify to any kind of social interaction liable to create a conflict, as we often find in the Babylonian Talmud. This further strengthens the view that the Babylonian Talmud does not depict the historical reality of the time with respect to the animosity between the Disciples of the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz and that its assertions are to be dismissed.20 Furthermore, the intention to harmonize the discrepancies between the sources creates incoherent explanations. Here are some examples: (i) Oppenheimer argues that after the destruction of the Temple, the scholars who replaced the Haverim changed the general trend towards “abolishing sects 20

It should be emphasized that in his entire examination of the relationship between the Disciples of the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz, Oppenheimer (1977) uses only the Babylonian Talmud to depict the animosity between the two groups. 245

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and demolishing barriers between various sections of the nation” (Oppenheimer 1977:181). In addition, they eased halakhic rules on ritual purity which were observed by the Haverim. This was done in order to unite the people around Torah study, which was accessible to all. Ironically, the result was the opposite: Torah study, which replaced ritual purity, became a new source of group friction, in our case animosity between Disciples of the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz. (ii) Oppenheimer (1977) also argues that the Haverim were the forerunners of the Sages and were perceived as a model for imitation for the Disciple of the Sages. We would therefore expect the Disciples of the Sages to adopt the same attitude as the Haverim, who despite their meticulous obser vation of ritual purity never isolated themselves from the people. On the contrary, as we shall see in the following, they continued to interact socially in everyday life with the Jews considered ‘Am ha’aretz. Taking this into consideration, it is rather odd to presume that the Disciples of the Sages would isolate themselves from the rest of the people, when the intention was to unite the people and not to create further friction. (iii) Oppenheimer’s statements about the social origin of ‘Am ha’aretz are somewhat confusing. As shown earlier, he states that ‘Am ha’aretz did not belong to a defined social stream or class: “The amei haretz are to be seen as a social stream which belonged to no defined class and had no separate organizational framework” (ibid. 21). On the other hand, he often repeats the idea that they came from lower social classes and were considered ignorant and unlearned, especially in comparison to the Disciples of the Sages. For example, he writes that the term ‘Am ha’aretz is used by the Sages “as a derogatory designation of one at the bottom of the social ladder” (ibid. 12). From the above, I conclude that I cannot use the Babylonian Talmud as a source of evidence to depict the social identity of ‘Am ha’aretz during the Tannaitic period, since it contains many discrepancies with the Tannaitic sources. Consequently, I cannot accept theories based on this type of methodological approach. Instead, I will limit the examination to the Tannaitic source.

246

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THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE JEWS KNOWN AS ‘AM HA’ARETZ AND THE HAVERIM AS DESCRIBED IN THE TANNAITIC LITERATURE

In the following, I will demonstrate two interrelated elements with respect to the relationship between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz. (a) Haverim with ‘Am ha’aretz background and (b) The interdependency between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz. The Haverim with ‘Am ha’aretz background As mentioned in the previous section, the sources indicate that there were Haverim with the background of ‘Am ha’aretz: 1. The son of the Haver who accompanied his mother’s father, an ‘Am ha’aretz, his father need not worry least he feed him foodstuff requiring conditions of cleanness (t. Demai 2.15; cf. ibid. 2.16; ibid. 3.5).21 2. A Haver (an associate) and an ‘Am ha’aretz who inherited [the property of] their father who was an ‘Am ha’aretz, he [Haver] may say to him [his brother]: “You take the wheat which is in one place and I will take the wheat which is in that place,” “you take the wine which is in one place and I will take the wine which is in that place,” but he may not say to him: “You take the wheat and I will take the barley,” or: “you take the moist produce and I will take the dry produce” (m. Demai 6.9; cf. ibid. 6.8).

The above instances illustrate that the Sages recognized that there are members with an ‘Am ha’aretz background. Furthermore, the stipulations above demonstrate that the Sages do not prevent these members from having contact with their family but rather offer appropriate solutions which enable them to maintain their relationship with their family and at the same time observe the ritual lifestyle required by the Sages.

21

In t. Demai 3.5 it states: The son of the Haver who went to the home of his mother’s father, an ‘Am ha’aretz. His father does not worry lest he feed him foodstuffs which have not been fully tithed. The idea that ‘Am ha’aretz is suspected in matters of ritual purity and tithes is often repeated, as in this case. 247

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The interdependency between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz Despite the ideology of the Sages which legitimized the disassociation from the Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz, there are numerous halakhot which reflect necessary limited interactions with ‘Am ha’aretz. These halakhot encompass a wide range of social interactions. In the following, I will present some of the halakhot which seek to regulate the interdependency between the Haverim and ‘Am ha’aretz, reflected in multiple types of social interaction. Interaction based on business and professions 1. Even if [the Haver] was his [‘Am ha’aretz] partner in a store, behold, this is reason for presuming that everything has been [properly] tithed (t. Demai 3.8). 2. A Haver who leased [contracted to work a plot as a tenant farmer, and to pay its owner a fixed annual rental in kind] from an ‘Am ha’aretz (t. Demai 3.5). 3. They sell to an ‘Am ha’aretz scrolls, phylacteries, and mezuzot. And they buy phylacteries only from an expert (t. Abodah Zarah 3.8). 4. They purchase from an ‘Am ha’aretz slave boys and slave girls, whether adults or minors and they sell to ‘Am ha’aretz slave boys and slave girls, whether adults or minors (t. Abodah Zarah 3.9).

The above evidence indicates that some Jews labeled as ‘Am ha’aretz in fact owned property. It is difficult, however, to assess whether these Jews were superior to the Sages with regard to economic capital; nevertheless, the evidence I have just cited does not describe them as inferior to the group of the Sages. The son of the Haver who was taught by ‘Am ha’aretz, the servant of a Haver who was taught by ‘Am ha’aretz, these remain in their presumed status until there are suspected (t. Demai 2.18; cf. ibid. 2.19).

The above evidence does not indicate what kind of knowledge the person regarded as ‘Am ha’aretz taught to the son of the Haver, a professional skill or knowledge in Torah (cf. Oppenheimer 1977:167). Nevertheless, it does indicate that the Sages regarded them as trustworthy to educate their children. Interaction based on living in close proximity 1. He who lives with an ‘Am ha’aretz in a courtyard, and forgot utensils in the courtyard, even jars tightly sealed with a stopper, or an oven tightly sealed with a stopper lo, these are unclean (m. Tohorot 8.1). 2. A roof of the Haver which is next to the roof of the ‘Am ha’aretz. The Haver lays out utensils there and leaves clean things there, on condition that the ‘Am ha’aretz cannot reach out his hand and touch the roof of the Haver (t. Tohorot 9.11). 3. The wife of an ‘Am ha’aretz who entered the house of a Haver to get his son [of the Haver] or daughter, or his beast, the house remains clean because she entered without permission (m. Tohorot 8.5). 248

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4. A wife of a Haver who left the wife of an ‘Am ha’aretz grinding [grain] in her house, [if] the millstone ceased, the house is unclean. [If] The millstones did not cease — unclean is only [the space] up to the place to which she can reach out her hand and touch (m. Tohorot 7.4).

Interaction based on hosting / visiting 1. The Haver who was sleeping in the house of an ‘Am ha’aretz with his clothing folded up and lying under his head, and his sandals and his jug before him — lo they are clean, because they are in the presumption of being guarded (t. Tohorot 8.2; m. ibid. 7.2; t. ibid. 8.3). 2. A Haver should not serve at the banquet of an ‘Am ha’aretz or at the feast of an ‘Am ha’aretz unless everything has been tithed under his supervision … Therefore [if] a Haver was serving at the banquet of an ‘Am ha’aretz or at a feast of an ‘Am ha’retz, behold, this is the reason for presuming that everything has been tithed (t. Demai 3.6; cf. ibid. 3.7).

Intermarriage between Sages and Am ha’aretz The daughter of an ‘Am ha’aretz who married a Haver, the wife of an ‘Am ha’aretz who [subsequently] married a Haver, [and] the servant of an ‘Am ha’aretz who was sold to a Haver (t. Demai 2.16).

From the above evidence I suggest that despite the fact that interaction with ‘Am ha’aretz can be perceived as troublesome to the Haver and his ritual lifestyle, in terms of (a) defiling the Haver and his household, his food and utensils, and (b) not properly separating the required tithes, thus rendering the produce unfit for consumption. The Sages did not develop a policy of “separatism” towards the ‘Am ha’aretz, but rather seem to have consciously developed various practical solutions to enable interaction, albeit restricted, with ‘Am ha’aretz. The nature of these interactions, as we have seen, encompasses a wide spectrum of social life: business, professions, intermarriage, celebration, hosting and visiting each other, and living in close proximity, even in the same housing unit, etc. In view of all this, I conclude that statements such as: “Many second-century rabbis harbored deep feelings of animosity towards those Jews known as ammei ha’aretz. They forbade marrying or even socializing with them, eating with them, living in close proximity to them, hosting or visiting them on a journey. Moreover, the ‘Am ha’aretz was regarded as untrustworthy in legal matters, and was categorized with the insane, the deaf-mute and the minor, all of whom were disqualified from offering testimony” (Levine 1989:30) — do not properly reflect the evidence found in the Tannaitic corpora. Moreover, in line with the previous discussion (chapters 4, pp. 232–236), the portrayal of ‘Am ha’aretz as belonging to the “disparaged lower class” does not coincide with the portrayal in the above Tannaitic sources. 249

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CHAPTER FIVE

The self-awareness of the Sages as constituters of the counter-hegemony

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THEORETICAL CONSIDERATION

In the previous chapter (cf. chapter 2, pp. 91–99), I suggested that the group of the Priests constituted the cultural hegemony of Jewish society. Using Gramsci’s conceptual framework of cultural hegemony, Foucault’s model of discourse and praxis, and the model of protected knowledge of Funkenstein and Steinsaltz, I examined the various ways by which the dominant group uses mechanisms of power in order to perpetuate its privileges. In this chapter, the Sages’ identity as constituters of the counter-hegemony will be examined. I will demonstrate that in the process of changing the social order there are two social categories that play a conscious role in the formation of the Sages identity: the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz. Our theoretical framework consists of three interrelated paradigms: (a) counter-hegemony, (b) postcolonialism — the phenomenon of mimicry, and (c) open and hidden transcripts.

Hegemony versus counter-hegemony When examining power relations between the dominant class and the subaltern class, Gramsci observed that the identity of the group that constitutes the new hegemony is generated in relation to other social groups, especially the dominant group. He suggested that in the process of political struggle, the oppositional group undergoes comprehensive interactions with the dominant group, based on assimilation and conquest: “One of the most important characteristics of any group that is developing towards dominance is its struggle to assimilate and to conquer ‘ideologically’ the traditional intellectuals” (Gramsci 1971:10). Keesing further develops Gramsci’s idea and explains why the internalization of the hegemonic discourse by the counter-hegemony is inevitable: “In part this is because those who are dominated internalize the premises and categories of the dominant; in part, because the discourse of domination creates the objective institutional realities within which struggles must be fought; and in part, because it defines the semiology through which claims to power must be expressed” (Keesing 1989:23). 251

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Moreover, counter-hegemony, according to Gramsci, is a movement that challenges the spread of social conventions represented by the dominant group. The constitution of a new counter-hegemony is characterized by confrontation with the past, with tradition, with prevailing conventions, with the existing social order, world view, ideology, etc. The ensuing transformation is defined by Gramsci as “intellectual and moral reform.” Gramsci expressed this process in the following: What matters is the criticism to which such an ideological complex is subjected by the first representatives of the new historical phase. This criticism makes possible a process of differentiation and change in the relative weight that the elements of the old ideologies used to possess. What was previously secondary and subordinate, or even incidental, is now taken to be primary — becomes the nucleus of a new ideological and theoretical complex. The old collective will dissolve into its contradictory elements since the subordinate ones develop socially (Gramsci 1971:195; cf. Mouffe 1981).

Moreover, Mouffe’s examination of Gramsci’s theory brings to light that the transformation into a new consciousness generated by the counter-hegemony does not occur ex nihilo, but in a world already defined. This means that in the process of generating a new hegemony, the members who represent the oppositional group do not “erase” the existing social conventions perpetuated by the dominant group, but rather give them a new articulation and interpretation: “The objective of ideological system struggle is not to reject the system and all its components but to rearticulate it, break it down to its basic elements and then to sift through past conceptions to see which one, with some changes of content, can serve to express the new situation. Once this is done the chosen elements are finally rearticulated into another system” (Mouffe 1981:192). From the above observations I suggest that the resistance of the oppositional group works from within the structure of the cultural hegemony and not from outside. In other words, the resistance has to be based on preserving the framework of the current social structure and not rejecting it. Instead of dismantling the structure of the ideological hegemony, the opposition uses the old components of ideology and shapes them to suit their daily experience and world view. Gramsci’s notion of counter-hegemony, in other words, implies a form of resistance that takes place within the structure and the very language of cultural hegemony. His theory has inspired many theoreticians of postcolonialism, in particular the trend towards transforming the history of consciousness into a history of change, known as subaltern studies (Guha and Spivak 1988; Spivak 1988; Parati 1997; Shome 1999). Moreover, the ambivalence between imitation and confrontation, which Gramsci appeared to identify, is closely related to a particular trend within postcolonialism that focuses on the phenomenon of mimicry. 252

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Postcolonialism — the phenomenon of mimicry I wish to present the theory of postcolonialism focusing on the phenomenon of mimicry, first presented by Fanon and further elaborated by Bhabha. I wish to focus mainly on the paradigm regarding the dialect between the Master and the slave, in particular the phenomenon of the slave’s imitation of the Master. I am fully aware that I am not paying due attention to all the complexities involved in the theory of postcolonialism related to the phenomenon of mimicry. Nevertheless, in order to achieve a high degree of specificity and refinement in my historical analysis, I want to use part of their conceptual framework, like the paradigm regarding the dialectic between the Master and the slave, as analytical tools that are both trans-historical and universal. (For an extensive discussion and bibliography of the theory of postcolonialism see Fanon 1967; 1990; Memi 1967; Said 1978; 1989; 1993; Du Bois 1989; Keesing 1989; Gilroy 1993; Bhabha 1992; 1994a; 1994b; Parati 1997; Shome 1999; Boyarin 1997; Shohat 1992; Hever and Ophir 1994; Shenhav and Hever 2002; Stoler 2002; and others.) The dialectic between the Master and the Slave —the phenomenon of mimicry The black psychoanalyst Fanon from Martinique rearticulated the Hegelian-Marxist paradigm of the dialectic between the Master and the slave in terms of a psychoanalytical perspective, using the contemporary context of the racist colonial relationship between white-black, colonizer-colonized, dominator-dominated in Martinique (Fanon 1967). Fanon employed Hegel’s main axiom, stating that the identities of the Master and the slave are constantly interwoven and are determined by reciprocal recognition: “Self consciousness exists in itself and for itself, in that and by the fact that it exists for another selfconsciousness; that is to say, it is only by being acknowledged or recognized” (Hegel in Fanon 1967:217). Otherness, Fanon argued, plays a dominant role in the formation and the transformation of the consciousness of the Self: “It is on that other being, on recognition by that other being, that his own human worth and reality depends. It is that other being in whom the meaning of his life is condensed” (Fanon 1967:217; cf. Memi 1967; Du Bois 1989). Using the above paradigm, Fanon explored the psychological mechanisms between the colonizer and colonized, underlining that the self-consciousness of the black-slave is characterized by conflicting desires prompted by the “negroes’ inferiority complex.” It is always in relation to the Master that the slave’s desire is articulated. This conflict of desires can be seen on three levels: (i) The desire for the Master’s recognition The black colonized man is struggling for recognition: “Black men want to prove to the white men, at all cost, the richness of their thought, the equal value of their intellect” (Fanon 1967:10). 253

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(ii) The desire to occupy the Master’s place The black colonized man seeks to exercise power over the white colonial. His fantasy is to occupy his Master’s place. The slave desires to dine at the Master’s table and sleep in his bed; he wants to own his wealth and take over the positions of power which the white represents. (iii) The desire to be like his Master In the black colonized man we recognize an attitude of assimilation: “The young man subjectively adopts the white man’s attitude … Little by little, one can observe in the young Antillean the formation and the crystallization of an attitude and a way of thinking and seeing that are essentially white” (Fanon 1967:147–148). In other words, the Master is mirrored in the behavior of the slave (cf. Bhabha 1994a:44; Hever and Ophir 1994:142). The struggle between cooperation and resistance Bhabha (1994a) further elaborates Fanon’s notion of the phenomenon of imitation1 and suggests that mimicry can lead to an ambivalent attitude, characterized by conflictual psychological mechanisms, such as attractionrejection, imitation-denial, cooperation-resistance, which reciprocally nourish one another. In other words, the phenomenon of mimicry becomes an arena of an ongoing antithetical struggle between cooperation and resistance. On the one hand, the white colonizer is an object of fantasy and desire, since he represents the source of knowledge of the cultural hegemony, i.e. the white has access to the material and cultural resources. On the other hand, the black colonized man seeks to break free from the bondage of the colonizer. For example, black theoreticians such as Du Bois, Gandhi, and Nehru expressed a critical awareness in their writings of the colonial exploitation of the colonized black people, thus dismantling the hegemonic discourse that justifies the daily praxis of oppression.2 In addition, many subaltern groups under British imperialism substituted the hegemonic narrative of the West with a new and separate canon that was an all-inclusive and coherent narrative, whose intention was to reconstruct a history from the natives’ world view (cf. Du Bois 1989; Spivak 1988; Lavie and Swedenburg 1995; Shome 1999; Shohat 2001; Shenhav 2003; Sharabi 2005; and others). Nevertheless, Bhabha underscores that cooperation and resistance are not mutually exclusive; they may be created one 1

2

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Bhabha (1994a) shares a similar idea to Fanon: “It is always in relation to the place of the other that the slave’s desire is articulated” (ibid. 44). Gilroy examines the work of Du Bois “The Souls of Black Folk” and argues that Du Bois reconstructed the narrative of western civilization “in systematic ways that emphasized its African origins and expressed a deeper disengagement from modern forms of thought that were discredited by their association with the continuing practice of white supremacy” (Gilroy 1993:113).

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out of another and nourish each other. This point of view is in tune with Gramsci’s notion of cultural hegemony. Thus, cooperation with the colonizer can easily turn into resistance. On the other hand, the strongest resistance of the colonized can turn into an “effective cooperation” with the colonial discourse and praxis represented by the colonizer (cf. Bhabha 1994a:102–122; 1994b; Boyarin 1997; Hever and Ophir 1994:143). For example, the Sage’s imitation of the priestly functions in certain areas, such as ritual purity and impurity, can easily be turned into resistance in the sense that they not only imitate the Priests but surpass them and thus render the Priests dispensable. On the other hand, the idea that the act of resistance can turn into cooperation with the existing hegemony may be reflected in the fact that even in the presumed new social order established, the Tannaitic Sages mirror the hegemonic discourse and praxis. Although the theory of postcolonialism relating to the paradigm of mimicry is geo-physically and politically context-bound, the conceptual framework was originally developed as a response to the ongoing power relations between the white-colonizer and the black-colonized that began in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, I would like to treat it as a trans-historical and universal phenomenon and apply it to the group of the Sages. In the following, I will present several case studies to demonstrate that the process of constituting a counter-hegemony involves to a great extent dialectical tension between imitation and resistance, which may be created one out of another and nourish each other. However, before analyzing our sources, there is one more important observation to be made with respect to the linguistic mechanisms of resistance.

“The art of resistance” — open and hidden transcripts Scholars have often failed to recognize the subversive attitude of the Sages towards the dominant hegemony exercised by the class of the Priests because of the subtle language and disguised forms of political resistance they employed. I intend to show that the Sages employed such an attitude. This will be revealed by applying Scott’s theory propounded in “Domination and the Arts of Resistance” (1990). Basing himself on numerous ethnographic fieldworks, Scott uncovers four types of political discourse used by the dominated group: (i) The “public discourse” (also called the “public transcript”) — the subordinated group uses the hegemonic discourse and thus seems to cooperate with the ruling group: “The safest and most public form of political discourse is that which takes at its basis the flattering self-image of Elites” (ibid. 18). Moreover, the use of the public transcript by the subordinated group also reflects a desire to imitate the dominant group. Scott refers to the study of contemporary language conducted by Lakoff, which underlines the following: 255

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“The history of male dominance has meant that women increasingly use men’s language — imitating the higher status dialect — while the reverse is rarely the case” (Lakoff in Scott 1990:30). (ii) “Open rebellion” — the dominated group publicly denies the authority of the ruling group. (iii) The “hidden offstage” — the dominated group criticizes the dominant group “behind their back.” Scott uses the following example: “Slaves in the relative safety of their quarters can speak the words of anger, revenge, self-assertion they must normally choke back when in the presence of the masters and mistresses” (Scott 1990:18). (iv) The discourse of the “trickster-tale” — the discourse of the trickster tale is often evasive, ambiguous, and encoded in the hegemonic discourse, meaning that it takes place in public but may imply a disguised meaning. This form of resistance can also be expressed by anonymous voices, through rumors, gossip, folktales, jokes, songs, rituals, etc. Scott uses the following example: “As a case in point, consider the Brer Rabbit stories of slaves, and trickster tales more generally. On one level they are nothing but innocent stories about animals; on another they appear to celebrate the cunning wiles and vengeful spirit of the weak as they triumph over the strong. I argue that a partly sanitized, ambiguous, and coded version of the hidden transcript is always present in the public discourse of subordinate groups” (ibid. 19). Scott’s discernment of the modes of discourse of the subordinated group is applicable to this examination. I will demonstrate throughout this chapter that the Tannaitic Sages interchangeably used the types of discourse mentioned above in relation to the group of the Priests. With these theories in mind, I will examine several case studies that reflect an ongoing dialectical tension within the group of the Sages, of confrontation and imitation of the hegemonic discourse and praxis represented by the Priests.

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SAGES’ SKINS, PRIESTS’ MASKS: THE DESIRE OF THE SLAVE TO BE LIKE HIS MASTER

Open rebellion: Confrontation with the Priestly hegemonic discourse In the subsequent section, I will first use two case studies to demonstrate that the Sages consciously challenged the cultural hegemony dominated by the Priests on two fronts, namely the generation of counter-collective memory and the exclusive role of the Priests relating to the Temple and its cult. Confrontation with the hegemonic narrative In chapter 3 (pp. 126–140) I observed that in the process of reconstructing their historical continuity, the Sages consciously disregarded the recognition of the priestly role as guardians of the law, and as teachers and judges and literally eliminated them from the list of those who maintained the chain of the tradition of the law, and at the same time redefined the role of the prophet in a way that does not coincide with the biblical law. Accordingly, the social construction of the Sages’ reality stands in opposition to the widespread social convention that was dominated for many centuries by the dominant culture (cf. Scott 1990; Berger and Luckmann 1966; Funkenstein 2000). The above example illustrates that in the process of challenging the dominant hegemony, the Sages were able to provide new interpretations of old authentic traditions that were rooted in biblical law and that had been practiced for many generations. Challenging the exclusive role of the Priests Our point of departure is Bar-Ilan’s analysis (1982; 2000). In his detailed examination of the polemic between the Priests and the Sages, he argues that the Sages sought to create a new social order based on equality. Basing himself on literary analysis, he argues that over 50 halakhot, which he labels “democratization of halakhah,” were composed with the intention to put an end to the contemporary social order based on genealogical attribution, which was a source of inequality in Jewish society. 257

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These halakhot have a literary pattern which begins with the format of “everyone” + present tense verb (gerund). For example: All are fit to see[determine the status of] the leper; all are fit to sanctify [the purifying waters]; all are fit to sprinkle [purifying] the water; all are fit to write a [bill of divorce]; all are fit to purify the leper; all are fit to read the scroll (m. Negaim 3.1; m. Parah 5.4; m. Parah 12. 10; m. Gittin 2.5; t. Negaim 8.1; m. Megillah 2.4).

He argues that “everyone” in the format above refers to the list of 10 social strata in Jewish society, such as Priests, Levites, Israelites, converts, freed slaves, impaired Priests, Netinim, and Mamzerim, as depicted in Mishna Qiddushin 4.1 and other places in the Tannaitic sources. (This issue is elaborately discussed in chapter 6.) Accordingly, the Sages’ reformation involved a confrontation with the class of the Priests who constituted the highest class in Jewish society and perpetuated the contemporary social stratification that put them at the apex of society. Their privileged status permitted them to carry out exclusively those tasks that had become the distinctive marks of their social position. The Sages’ intention to diminish the power of the Priests is expressed on two interrelated levels: (i) The Sages literarily distributed to “everyone” the tasks that had become the distinctive marks of the Priests’ own social identity and social position. The Sages granted legitimacy to other social classes to carry out various activities that were formerly carried out exclusively by the Priests, such as blowing the shofar, reading the scroll (of Esther), sprinkling pure water, purifying the leper, slaughtering, and writing a bill of divorce. (ii) There is a gradual physical movement away from the Temple to sites close to Jerusalem and finally to places further away. The priestly functions that were bound to the Temple, such as blowing the shofar, could now, according to the ideology of the Sages, be practiced by everyone,3 and outside the Temple. I suggest from the above examination that the Sages portrayed themselves as social reformers who were turning their backs on the leading hegemony represented by the group of the Priests. The Sages overtly challenged the hegemonic discourse and praxis in at least two aspects: (i) They sought to diminish the monopoly of the Priests over the institution of the Temple. (ii) They constituted an alternative social agenda based on equality, by democratizing the institution of the Temple; they allowed the general public, regardless 3

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“Everyone” refers to men exclusively.

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of their socio-economic background, to take part in the Temple rites and thus contribute to a further erosion of the social divisions in Jewish society. Nevertheless, as will be demonstrated throughout this chapter and chapter 6, the “reality” of the halakhot labeled as “democratic” did not always coincide with the social reality of the Sages.

Open and hidden transcripts — the practice of separating tithes Employing the paradigm of open and hidden transcripts and the paradigm of imitation, I would like to expose how the discourse and practice regarding tithes reflect cooperation with the priestly hegemony that could easily turn into the strongest resistance. It should be underscored that when I seek to employ the idea of subversion here, it is important to consider an additional element which has significant weight in charting the course of the Tannaitic action, namely, the contextual framework of the group of the Sages. As opposed to the subversion of today, which operates within a secular democratic structure, their society was based on a traditional religious structure. The group of the Sages were part of the same religious structure that legitimized the superior position of the Priests in the social hierarchy and did not contest it. In other words, there is a dialectical tension; the Sages are able to derive their legitimacy only by operating within the traditional religious structure. Thus, in order to change their social map, they could work only from within the contemporary social structure. The system of tithes according to the Tannaitic Sages After the destruction of the Temple, rules of priestly and levitical gifts continued to be practiced. Recognizing that it was the right of the Priests to demand the heave-offering and tithes, the Sages used the “public discourse” of the dominant group; by giving it recognition they further developed the system of tithes. (For a detailed description of biblical and halakhic legal codes see Oppenheimer 1977:22–29.) For the sake of convenience, I will present the main guidelines of the system as presented in Order of Agriculture (Zera‘im). The concept “tithe” is used as a general term denoting different kinds of tithes, such as heave-offering, first tithes, second tithes, and poor man’s tithes. The tithes are distributed in the following manner: Any produce is forbidden for use until the heave-offering (‫ )תרומה‬for the Priest has been separated from it. The heave-offering may be used only by the Priest and members of his household. After the person has distributed the heave-offering, he must then separate a tenth of what remains for the Levite. This tithe is classified as “first tithe” 259

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(‫)מעשר ראשון‬. The Levite must separate one tenth of this tithe for the Priest. This tithe is labeled “heave-offering of the tithe” (‫)תרומת מעשר‬, or the “tithes of the tithe” (‫)מעשר מן המעשר‬. After the owner of the produce has separated the heave-offering and the first tithe, he has to separate another tenth from the remaining produce, classified as “second tithe” (‫)מעשר שני‬, which has to be distributed in the following manner: during the first, second, fourth, and fifth year of the sabbatical cycle, the “second tithe” must be taken to Jerusalem to be eaten there, or redeemed for money that is taken to Jerusalem, and the owner has to buy food to be eaten there. Whereas during the third and the sixth year of the sabbatical cycle, the “second tithe” has to be given to those considered economically disadvantaged. This kind of distribution is labeled “poor man’s tithe” (‫( )מעשר עני‬Albeck 1958 I, Maaser Sheni 243–245; Oppenheimer 1977:23). Although the hegemonic discourse and its praxis with respect to tithes continued to be practiced by the group of the Sages, there are several modes of discourse which clearly display the subversive attitude of the Sages towards the priestly hegemony. Let us examine them. The discourse of the “trickster tale”: Economic restriction of the priestly gifts One of the subversive actions which the Sages initiated was to restrict the priestly economic monopoly over the donation of tithes and heave-offerings by using a disguised form of political resistance. The Sages apparently acknowledged that the heave-offering and other priestly gifts were exclusively the Priests’ property,4 however, they underscored that the “first tithe” should be given exclusively to the Levites. Let us look at the evidence first. Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel Says: “Just as [receiving] the heave-offering is sufficient proof [that he is a member] of the priesthood, at the threshing floor distribution, so too [receiving] the first tithe is sufficient proof [that he is a member] of the Levites, at the threshing floor distribution” (t. Peah 4.5; t. Ketubot 3.1; t. Terumot 4.12; t. Maaser Sheni 3.12).

The ruling above appears to be a “trickster tale”: the Sages portray a situation as if it were part of a widespread social convention of Jewish society. They argue in the following manner: just as the act of the Priest of visiting the threshing floor and demanding the heave-offering is reckoned to him as diacritical feature, i.e. indicating that he is a member of the priesthood, so too, the Levite is reckoned as belonging to the Levites when he visits the threshing floor in order 4

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In m. Hallah 1.9 it states: Dough offering and heave-offering … are priestly property (cf. m. Bikkurim 2.1; t. Demai 8.11).

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to receive first-tithe. However, the Sages’ portrayal raises some difficulties. Their description of the hegemonic praxis does not always coincide with other literary evidence regarding the actual practice of tithes. Scholarly examination indicates that during the period of Second Temple, the first tithe was not given exclusively to the Levites. There is evidence that it was also given to the Priests, and in certain instances only to the Priests. (For a detailed examination and literary evidence see Oppenheimer 1977:38–42.) Moreover, there are other Tannaitic and Amoraitic texts which indicate that it was customary to give the first tithe to the Priests (cf. t. Demai 2.2; j. Maaser Sheni 5.2, 56b). If the observation is correct, I suggest that by portraying an imaginary convention, the Sages used a disguised form of political resistance that enabled them to undermine the Priests’ monopoly over the tithes which prevailed during the Second Temple period. I suggest that the case study above reveals that the Sages worked from within the social structure in order to undermine the superior position of the Priests. The discourse of “hidden offstage” Another mode used to undermine the superior position of the Priests is tacit discourse. Renaming the Priest ‘Am ha’aretz is a subtle use of language and a disguised form of political resistance by which the Sages undermine the position of the class of the Priests in the social hierarchy. Let us look at the evidence: He who takes upon himself four things is accepted as a Haver: that he will not give heave-offering and tithes to an ‘Am ha’aretz (t. Demai 2.2; cf. ARN/A 41).

The ruling above stipulates that the candidate who wished to become a full member of the association (a subcategory within the group of the Sages) was required not to distribute heave-offerings and tithes to ‘Am ha’aretz. As was discussed in chapter 4, the term ‘Am ha’aretz in this context most probably refers to the group of the Priests; this assumption is deduced from the fact that only the Priests were entitled to receive heave-offerings (cf. ARN/A 41). The subversive action of the Sages in this context is double-edged. The resolution not to give heave-offerings and tithes to the Priests who are labeled ‘Am ha’aretz indicates that the Sages plotted behind their backs and continued to undermine their superior position. In addition, the very use of the appellation ‘Am ha’aretz is an expression of severe criticism against the Priests. As shown elsewhere, the term ‘Am ha’aretz was used as a derogatory expression often referring to those Jews who did not properly observe the rules of ritual purity and impurity; this stigmatization would legitimize their inferior position in the social hierarchy. Consequently, by calling the Priests (whoever they may be) ‘Am ha’aretz, the Sages would deeply damage their reputation by considering them ritually 261

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impure and thus unfit to receive heave-offerings. In other words, the Sages would construct a counter ideology which would eventually undermine the superior position of the Priests in the cultural hegemony. The discourse of “Open rebellion” The following evidence seems to express what Scott labels as an open rebellion against the hegemonic discourse and praxis with respect to the priestly levies. Let us look at it: And from it you shall give the Lord’s offering to Aaron the Priest. Just as Aaron is a Haver, so too his sons are Haverim. On this basis [of argument] they have said, they give the priestly gifts only to a [Priest] who observes the rules of the fellowship (Sifre Numbers 121).

The above ruling expresses a rather open rebellion against the existing hegemony, since it stipulates that the criterion of having priestly attribution is not sufficient for receiving the priestly gifts. The Priest has to be a member of the association in order to demand his priestly rights to the tithes. The above ruling expresses a discourse of open rebellion, overtly daring to challenge the structure of legitimacy of the hegemonic praxis with respect to the priestly levies, by providing new interpretations for old authentic traditions. So far the examination has focused on the various discourses which may express a subversive attitude towards the dominant group. In the next section I will point out an additional element; namely, that the resistance of the Sages was created by imitation, with respect to discourse and praxis of tithes.

Sages’ skins, Priests’ masks — resistance as an act of imitation As noted earlier, Fanon’s paradigm of mimicry points out that it is always in relation to the Master that the slave’s desire is articulated. The slave desires to imitate the Master’s modes of behavior and thinking, proving to the Master at all costs his equal worthiness. The slave’s fantasy is to occupy the Master’s place. The slave’s desire is to prove that whatever the Master can do, the slave can do better. Thus, the very act of the slave’s resistance entails the Master’s recognition. Perhaps one of the clearest examples which may articulate the above paradigm is the notion that Torah study substitutes for the Temple offerings and the Disciples of the Sages replace the Priests. Beer’s (1964) examination has pointed out that after the destruction of the Temple, this notion gradually intensified, and has its clearest expression in the Amoraitic literature. It is based on the following evidence (Beer 1964; cf. Rosenfeld 1997b). 262

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R. Jonah would give his first tithes to R. Aha ben Ulla, not because he was a Priest, but because he was devoted solely to Torah. What [scriptural verses provides his] rationale? “He ordered the people, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to deliver the portions of the Priest and the Levites, so that they might devote themselves to the Teaching of the Lord” (II Chron. 31.4) (j. Maaser Sheni 5.2, 56b).

The above story underscores that the reason R. Aha ben Ulla received priestly tithes was due to the fact that he was a Disciple of a Sage and not as we would expect, a Priest. Thus, the act of resistance is to change the structure of legitimacy with respect to priestly tithes; the criterion is no longer priestly attribution but intellectual achievement. Moreover, the subversion of the Sages is expressed by an analogy between Torah study and the Temple service. According to the ideological hegemony, the Priests were entitled to receive gifts so that they could devote themselves to the ministry of the Lord. By the same token, the above ruling stipulates that it is the Sages and their Disciples who are entitled to receive the priestly levies, so that they might devote themselves to the teachings of the Lord. In other words, the Sages’ act of resistance is constituted out of modes of imitation. The Sages replicate the Priests’ modes of thinking and behavior and give it a new articulation to suit their world view. The same notion is repeated in the evidence below: R. Yossi ben R. Haninah said in the name of R. Eliezer ben Jacob: “Anyone who hosts a Disciple of a Sage in his house and gives him benefits from his belongings, scripture looks upon him as though he is bringing tamid offerings to the Altar” (b. Berakhot 10b).

The act of feeding a Disciple of a Sage is comparable to the offering of sacrifices upon the Temple altar. Once again, the Sages do not deny the hegemonic discourse and praxis but rather give it a new interpretation. The next ruling expresses a similar notion. A certain man bought R. Rav Hanan a basket of small fish that live among the reeds. Then Rav Hanan asked him: “What is your business?” He answered him: “I have a lawsuit to be tried in your court.” Rav Hanan did not accept his gift and told him: “I am disqualified from rendering a judgment for you.” The man responded: “I do not want Master’s judgment, I just want Master to accept my gift so that Master does not prevent me from offering bikkurim.” The justification of the above ruling is based on the following rational: For it is taught in the scripture: A man came from Baal-Shalishah and brought to the man of God [Elisha] bread of Bikkurim twenty loaves of barley bread and kernels in their husks (II Kings 4.42). Now did Elisha eat Bikkurim? This verse serves to teach you that whoever brings a gift to a Disciple of a Sage [is regarded] as if he is offering Bikkurim. [Rav Hanan] said to him: “I did not want to accept [the gift] but now that you have told me [your] reason I will accept it” (b. Ketubot 105b). 263

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The intention of the story is to demonstrate that just as Elisha was not a Priest and received the offering bikkurim, which is given exclusively to the Priests,5 so the Disciple of the Sage who is analogous to the Priest — his deeds are conceived as holy and the food he eats may be compared to the Temple offerings eaten by the Priests — is entitled to receive the offering of bikkurim. From the above examination, I may deduce that we can only understand the depth and the breadth of the Sages’ resistance through the world view of the Priests. The Sages’ resistance cannot have an existence outside the framework of the Priests’ discourse and praxis. Likewise, the constitution of the Sages’ identity necessitates the existence of the group of Priests in the Sages’ consciousness.

Sages’ skins, Priests’ masks — the desire to occupy the Master’s place As stated elsewhere, the legal codes in the Torah clearly stipulate that the laws of ritual purity and impurity relate exclusively to the Priests, with respect to performance of the ritual cult in the Temple and eating the sacred food. However, there are particular statements in the Tannaitic literature that articulate a new mode of thinking. The basic idea is that ritual purity and impurity relating to the Temple and eating sacred food is no longer restricted to the Temple and the Priest but can be practiced by everyone and outside the Temple. Cultural bearing and the formation of group identity The practice of ritual purity was not exclusive to the Tannaitic Sages but was a nationwide phenomenon practiced by many groups and individuals as well as by the general public (cf. Alon 1977:205–234; Baumgarten 1997; Regev 2000 and many others). During the Second Temple period, a revolutionary social phenomenon called non-priestly purity had penetrated Jewish society. As testified in the Tosefta, “purity broke out among Israel” (t. Shabbat 1.14; cf. j. Shabbat 1.3, 3b). This phenomenon implied the expansion of the practice of priestly purity to the daily life of the lay people outside the Temple and its service. This is further supported by literary evidence (Philo, Special Laws III, 205; Josephus, Against Apion II, 26; Ant. III, 9.1, 224–227; Ant. 12.1; ibid. 274–275; cf. Alon 1977:225–230), as well as by archaeological evidence, especially with respect to the numerous finds of ritual baths and stone vessels.6 5

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Bikkurim are the first-ripening fruits of the seven species that were brought to the Temple and were given to the Priests (Deut. 26.1–11). In order to observe the laws of purity, a systematic regulation was generated, which had already crystallized in the last decades of the Second Temple. This system is reflected in the Tannaitic literature. Due to the scrupulous observance of these regulations, ritual baths were

The self-awareness of the Sages as constituters of the counter-hegemony

Moreover, applying the rules of ritual purity and impurity to everyday life had a major impact on the religious and social life of Jewish society; they were the guidelines for social barriers and for marking group identity and out-group exclusion. Nevertheless, although all groups of the Second Temple period were “infected” by the phenomenon of ritual purity and impurity, each group gave its own unique interpretation and articulation to suit their world view and daily experiences (cf. Baumgarten 1997). This idea corresponds with the model of the social anthropologist Barth with respect to the close affinity between cultural bearing and the formation of group identity. Social groups may have a common culture and history, yet each group will choose certain features from the given cultural context. The specific features chosen by the actors themselves are not an expression of “objective” differences from the others, but rather are regarded by the group as significant and valuable. Accordingly, some cultural features are used by certain groups as signals to distinguish their differences, while others are ignored or totally denied (Barth 1969). For example, the writer of the book of Jubilees and his representatives seem to consciously ignore the laws of purity and impurity that are so central to the legal codes of Torah, while at the same time expressing anti-priesthood discourse. The writer publicly denies the authority of the ruling group represented by the High Priest, and the constructed. The entire folio of tractate Mikvaot in the Mishna provides us with technical information about the facilities of ritual baths. Archaeological excavations especially in the last decades, bear witness to the widespread usage of ritual baths in Jewish society before and after the destruction of the Temple. For the sake of convenience, here are some of the archaeological reports: Reich (1990) discovered three hundred ritual baths in Judea and Benjamin, 90 per cent of which date to the Second Temple period and the remainder to the Mishnaic and Talmudic periods. His study led to further investigation. Amit (1996) identified 110 ritual baths located in Hebron hills and elsewhere in the country. Zissu (2001) states that approximately 220 ritual baths were discovered in about 130 Jewish settlements in Judaea and Benjamin. The widespread distribution of Jewish ritual baths demonstrates that the observance of ritual purity was practiced by various groups and individuals who came from different socioreligious backgrounds (cf. Regev 2000). In addition, the flourishing of the stone vessels industry at the end of the Second Temple period is another indication of the strict observance of ritual purity and impurity by those who served in the Temple and other contemporary Jewish groups. Cahill’s (1992) comprehensive study of stone vessels reveals the widespread usage of stone vessels by Jews. Cahill identifies 50 sites where stone vessels have been found (cf. Magen 1994; 1998). In recent years the number of sites at which stone vessels were found has doubled (Zissu 2001). The vast distribution of stone vessels coincides with the literary sources of the Mishna, Tosefta, which emphasize the importance of the usage of stone vessels. According to the halakhah, stone vessels were not susceptible to becoming ritually impure (m. Kelim 10.1; m. Besah 2.3; m. Parah 3.2). Unlike pottery vessels, which had to be broken once they became ritually impure, stone vessels could always be used. Stone vessels could also be used to store ritually clean water for the washing of the hands (Cahill 1992). 265

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contemporary leadership of the Temple (Ravid 2002).7 Whereas for the Sages, the laws of purity and impurity occupied a dominant position in their writings8 and daily praxis. As will be demonstrated shortly, the Sages not only developed and extended the application of the laws of ritual purity and impurity from the Temple to everyone (Alon 1977:205–234;9 cf. Oppenheimer 1977:63–66) but also used the old system and its components to articulate their daily experiences, imparting it with new meaning. In the following, I will explore the ways by which the Sages developed the system of ritual purity and impurity in relation to the phenomenon of mimicry. The system of ritual purity and impurity: Sources and degrees of ritual impurity According to Mishnaic law, there are three main items that can contract impurity: (a) the body, (b) vessels and clothes, and (c) food and liquids (for extensive explanation see Oppenheimer 1977:55–58). Each of these is classified according to the degree of impurity it has. For the sake of convenience, I will present the main guidelines of this rather complicated system developed by the Tannaitic Sages. According to the halakhah, the human corpse is considered the highest degree of impurity and is classified as the father of fathers of impurity (‫)אבי אבות הטומאה‬. The next degree of impurity is known as the father of impurity (‫)אב הטומאה‬. For example, the person who has touched a human corpse, a person who is infected with a sexual disease, a woman who has given birth, or a person who is infected with leprosy, are all considered as fathers of impurity. Moreover, a person or an object that comes into contact with the “father of impurity” becomes the “first degree of impurity” (‫לטומאה‬ ‫)ראשון‬. The person or the object of first degree impurity cannot further contaminate objects or people but can contaminate food and liquids. There is one exception; the hands alone can contract impurity. The Sages stipulated that if the hands come in contact with the first degree of impurity, the hands alone are contaminated. Thus, food and liquids and the hands of a human body that come in contact with the “first degree of impurity” become the “second degree of impurity” (‫)שני לטומאה‬. Regarding unconsecrated foods, this contamination can go no further. However, the second degree of impurity 7

8

9

266

In her extensive examination, Ravid demonstrates that in the book of Jubilees there are hardly any references to laws of ritual purity and impurity, except for a single instance, the impurity of a woman after giving birth (Ravid 2002). For example, the entire Order of Taharot, which consists of twelve tractates, is devoted to the laws of ritual purity and impurity. Unlike Alon, Büchler (1964), suggested that all the rules regarding ritual purity and impurity discussed in the Talmudic literature relate exclusively to the Priests.

The self-awareness of the Sages as constituters of the counter-hegemony

can further contaminate heave-offerings. Thus, if a second degree touches the heave-offering, it becomes the third degree of impurity (‫)שלישי לטומאה‬. The heave-offering cannot be further contaminated, however, consecrated food considered as “holy” can be further contaminated to become the fourth degree of impurity (‫( )רביעי לטומאה‬Oppenheimer 1977:56–61). The dialectic between cooperation and resistance: Ritual purity and impurity Eating unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity is perhaps one of the most significant examples of the antithetical struggle between cooperation with the hegemonic discourse and praxis and resistance to it. Our point of departure is the model of degrees of impurities described in Mishna Hagigah, which has several noteworthy particulars. Clothes of an ‘Am ha’aretz are a source of midras-impurity10 for the Pharisees. Clothes of Pharisees are a source of midras-impurity for those that eat heave-offering. Clothes of those that eat heave-offering are a source of midras-impurity for those who eat holy [food]. Clothes of those who eat holy things are source of midrasimpurity for them that occupy themselves with the hattat [water of purification] (m. Hagigah 2.7).

The identity of the five categories The above model lists five categories in hierarchical order. The first two are identified by their names, ‘Am ha’aretz and Pharisees, while the other three categories seem to be referring to three subcategories within the Priests, according to the degree of purity: (i) Those who eat the heave-offering are synonymous with the group of the Priests, since only the Priest and his immediate family were allowed to eat the heave-offering11 (the implication of the term is discussed elsewhere, cf. chapter 2, pp. 46–52). (ii) Those who eat holy things (qodesh) refer to those who are permitted to eat the meat of sacrifices (such as sin offerings and guilt offerings); this food was permitted to the Priest.12 (iii) The water of purification refers to the water containing ashes of the red heifer used to purify persons or objects contaminated by contact with a corpse. According to the traditional role, the Priest would sprinkle this water 10 11

12

Midras is a type of impurity. Its symbolic and social implication will be discussed shortly. If a woman was married to a Priest and he suddenly died she was no longer allowed to eat from the heave-offering. In the same vein, if a Priest found out that he was an impaired Priest he was prohibited to eat the heave-offering (m. Terumah 8.1). There are circumstances in which a non Priest may eat holy things, e.g. (shlamim offering). This, however, does not change the social implication of this category. 267

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on contaminated persons or objects. The fact that the first two categories are identified by name, whereas with regard to the last three the name Priest is not invoked (even though these are clearly subcategories of the Priests), compels us to consider whether the Sages sought to partially disguise or diffuse this category. If true, it would confirm the mechanism of antithetical struggle between cooperation and resistance described by postcolonial theory (cf. Hever and Ophir 1994). According to the above interpretation, three distinct social categories are used in the above model and are placed in hierarchical order; ‘Am ha’aretz, the Pharisees (who are perceived by the Sages as their forerunners, cf. chapter 3, pp. 102–114) and the Priests. The fact that only the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz are contrasted with the Sages, while other “significant” groups are ignored (cf. the Essenes) further strengthens the notion that only these two categories play any conscious role in the formation of the Sages’ identity. The symbolic meaning of Midras and its social implications The usage of the metaphor midras-impurity means that any garment or object that comes in contact with a person with a discharge (father of impurity) itself becomes the father of impurity. The Sages stipulated that a person with a discharge is capable of contaminating the garment or the article in five modes; standing, sitting, lying, leaning, or treading on. These five modes are labeled as midras-impurity (m. Zabim 2.4; cf. Lev. 15.4–10). Accordingly, the garments of each of the five degrees in the above model are a source of midras-impurity for the degree above it. The implication of the model is that the practice of laws of ritual purity and impurity creates religious and social gaps between each social category. For instance, the theoretical halakhah stipulates that the Haver (a subcategory within the group of the Sages) who eats unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity cannot eat together with ‘Am ha’aretz because he is considered ritually defiled in relation to the Haver. Moreover, the Haver cannot sell dry or wet food to ‘Am ha’aretz and can buy only dry food from him. In addition, the Haver was encouraged not to associate with ‘Am ha’aretz (m. Demai 2.3). (The relationship between the Haver and ‘Am ha’aretz is discussed at length elsewhere.) The above model demonstrates how the Sages replicate the existing discourse and praxis of ritual purity and impurity, legitimizing the contemporary social hierarchy among superiors, equals, and inferiors. By using the religious discourse of ritual impurity, the Sages are able to justify the superior position of the Priests in the social hierarchy and at the same time legitimize the religious and social praxis of excluding Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz. However, there is one particular instance that can be used in order to decipher the structure of secrecy, revealing that the model based on level of 268

The self-awareness of the Sages as constituters of the counter-hegemony

impurity does not always justify the praxis of a group’s exclusion. Let us look at the evidence: For the House of Shammai say: “A zav [person with a seminal discharge] who is a Pharisee should not eat with a zav who is an ‘Am ha’aretz. And the House of Hillel permits it”) t. Shabbat 1.15; cf. j. Shabbat 1.3, 3c; b. Shabbat 13a).

The interesting point in this ruling is that the representatives of the school of Shammai, as opposed to the school of Hillel, state that a Pharisee with a seminal discharge and an ‘Am ha’aretz with a seminal discharge are not permitted to eat together, despite the fact that both are considered ritually impure and are classified as the “father of impurity” (cf. Alon 1977:216; Oppenheimer 1977:156–157; Regev 2000). The ruling above, I suggest, reveals a discrepancy between the religious motives professed by the Sages and the social reality they practiced. In light of the above observation, we must look for an alternative explanation that may reveal the Sages’ psychological motives. Using the theory of imitation, I suggest that the contempt towards ‘Am ha’aretz may reflect the internalization of the high priestly hegemonic discourse towards those who were inferior to them, i.e. the general public. In addition, several ethnographic fieldworks reveal that in the process of imitating the hegemonic discourse and praxis, the subaltern group will often surpass the dominant group (cf. Boyarin 1997). Likewise, the enthusiasm to imitate the hegemonic discourse and praxis relating to laws of ritual purity and impurity, instigated the Sages to “go beyond” the strict obser vance of the Priests.13 So far the investigation has focused on processes that demonstrate that the strongest resistance of the colonized can turn into a seemingly “effective cooperation” with the hegemonic discourse and praxis represented by the Priests, showing that even in the presumed new social order, the Tannaitic Sages mirrored the hegemonic discourse and praxis with respect to laws of ritual purity and impurity. In the following, I will examine the processes by which cooperation with the hegemonic discourse can turn into subversive action. As noted earlier, the Sages’ imitation of the priestly functions in certain areas such as ritual purity and impurity can easily be turned into resistance, in the sense that they not only imitate the Priests but surpass them, and thus render the Priests dispensable.

13

By contrast, Talmudic Sages and modern researchers solved this discrepancy using purely halakhic tools (j. Shabbat 1.3, 3c; b. Shabbat 13a; cf. Oppenheimer 1977:156–157 and others). 269

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Imitation as an act of resistance: Eating unconsecrated food in ritual purity Eating unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity was considered a special virtue by the Tannaitic Sages. As noted elsewhere, eating secular food in a condition of ritual purity was one of the dominant characteristics of the Haver (a sub-category within the group of the Sage). Moreover, it could be practiced on different levels of purity. The evidence below describes individuals who eat according to different degrees of purity. 1. R. Yossi ben Yoezer was a pious member of the Priests and his garment was considered a source of midras-impurity for those who ate holy [food]. All his life Johanan ben Gudgada ate secular [food] at the degree of ritual purity for holy [food] and his garment was considered a source of midras-impurity for those who occupied themselves with the hattat [purifying water] (m. Hagigah 2.7). 2. All his days Rabban Gamaliel II ate secular food prepared in ritual purity and his garment was a source of midras-impurity for those who ate holy [food] … All his days Onkelos the proselyte ate secular food prepared according to the purity required for holy [food] and his garment was considered a source of midras-impurity for those who occupied themselves with the hattat [purifying water] (t. Hagigah 3.3).

R. Yossi ben Yoezer is identified as one of the first of the five pairs (174– 164 B.C.E.). The Tanna underscores that despite the fact that he was a pious Priest, his garment was considered a midras-impurity for those who ate holy things, meaning that he ate in a state of heave-offering purity. As opposed to him, Johanan ben Gudgada (50 C.E.?), who was a Levite and a Sage, ate unconsecrated food in a state of purity equal to the Priest eating holy things in the Temple. The same is true of Rabban Gamaliel II, who was not a Priest but ate unconsecrated food in the state of purity equal to that of Priests eating the heave-offering. However, the instance of Onkelos the proselyte is the most telling, i.e. a non-Jew who converted to Judaism and ate unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity equal to the Priest eating holy things in the Temple. Eating unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity is an act of imitation. As noted earlier, for the Priests, eating sacred food in ritual purity was an imperative condition and a distinguishing characteristic of their social identity. Consequently, when the Sages repeatedly demonstrate their ability to imitate the priestly praxis by eating unconsecrated food in a state of ritual purity, they are able to diminish the exclusive characteristic of the Priests’ identity. Moreover, when the Sages impose upon themselves the practice of eating unconsecrated food at different levels of ritual purity, they are able to demonstrate to themselves and others, that whatever the Priests can do, the Sages can do better. In this respect, the arena of imitation can easily turn into the strongest resistance. 270

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The halakhah below is perhaps the strongest expression of such an attitude: Eat not bread with a Priest who is an ‘Am ha’aretz lest you trespass in hallowed things (ARN/A 26; cf. ARN/B 33; Derech Eretz 1.14).

Earlier, I demonstrated that the term a “Priest who is an ‘Am ha’aretz” is used in a derogatory manner to stigmatize certain Priests whose behavior is conceived of as degraded. It should be underlined, nevertheless, that the Tannaim do not specify any concrete explanation that might justify the stigmatization of these Priests, as is demonstrated in the above halakhah. The crucial point, however, is that the resistance of Sages is expressed in their power to re-define the Priests who belong to the dominant group as “inferior others.” In other words, by transforming his actual social identity to a virtual identity, they not only severely harm his reputation, but they in fact re-create the “other” who is conceived as dangerous, as a ritually impure person whom the Sages have to avoid. Moreover, the above halakhah clearly expresses that it is no longer the Priests who are to be trusted with the hallowed things, but the Sages. The Sages once more, emphasize: Whatever the Priests can do, the Sages can do better!

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CHAPTER SIX

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

272

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

SAGES VERSUS PRIESTS — A NEW SOCIAL ORDER OR A MIMICRY OF EXISTING PRIESTLY HEGEMONIC REPRESENTATION?

As already mentioned in the introduction, modern scholars of social history have often argued with regard to the disposition of social stratification in Jewish society during the Tannaitic period, and as to whether it was an open or a closed system. There are two main scholarly approaches: on the one hand, those who are convinced that Jewish society was based on a closed system. S. Schwartz (1995) for example, states that: “Ancient Palestinian society was rigidly stratified according to class and status” (ibid. 13). On the other hand, there are those who suggest that during the Tannaitic period (including the last decades of the Second Temple), genealogical attribution lost its significance gradually and personal achievement based on Torah studies became more and more dominant in Jewish society (Beer 1964; Rabinowitz 1969; Z. Safrai 1983; Yankelevitch 1983; Bar-Ilan 2000; and others). This idea is well expressed in the following statement: “Thus the society represented in the Tannaitic law established a new set of relationships: neither family relationship nor priesthood, and the Temple is significant but talent in knowledge of Torah is recognized. In other words, the high ancestry of the Priest on the one hand, or the low ancestry of the Mamzer on the other, declined in importance in favor of a new social standard: Torah and wisdom” (Bar-Ilan 2000:144). The presentation of the social stratification of Jewish society in Tannaitic literature Before examining the main arguments offered so far and investigating whether the presumed new social order took precedence over the old one, and if so to what extent, I have to reconsider the self-presentation of the Tannaitic Sages regarding the social structure of their own society and its implications. Perhaps the clearest indication for social stratification in the Tannaitic literature is found in the Mishna Qiddushin chapter 4.1. The list of 10 family stocks (strata) is also to be found in other places in the Tannaitic literature.1 1

We can find the same type of pattern with minor nuances: m. Sheqalim 1.3; t. Berakhot 5.4; t. Rosh Hashanah 2.5; t. Megillah 2.7. 273

CHAPTER SIX

The ten strata are defined in the following hierarchical order: Ten family stocks came up from Babylonia: (1) Priests, (2) Levites, (3) Israelites, (4) Halalim (impaired Priests), (5) converts, (6) freed slaves, (7) Mamzerim,2 (8) Netinim,3 (9) Shetuki (“silenced ones”)4 and (10) Asufim (foundlings).5 1) Priests, Levites, and Israelites are permitted to intermarry with each other; 2) Levites, Israelites, impaired Priests, converts, and freed slaves are permitted to intermarry with each other; 3) converts, freed slaves, Mamzerim, Netinim, “silenced ones,” and foundlings are all permitted to intermarry with each other.

The phrase “Ten family stocks came from Babylonian” does not necessarily depict the historical reality of Jewish society in the period of Ezrah6 but rather indicates that the Tanna was trying to present his perception of the functioning of the sociological structure of his time. Framing it in a cosmological event such as the exodus from Babylon, he thus gave it a significant symbolic meaning (Bar-Ilan 2000).7 Accordingly, Jewish society is divided into 10 different social strata listed in descending order. The number ten, as already suggested, is typological and does not necessarily reflect the reality but divides society schematically. Clearly, the intention is to portray a social hierarchy in which the Priests are at the top of the ladder and the foundlings at the bottom.8 The hierarchy, however, depicts socio-economic status based on the criterion of genealogical attribution. 2

3

4

5

6

7

8

274

An analysis of the definition and social and religious implications of the social category Mamzerim is given later; in the present context it is sufficient to know that according to the halakhah, a Mamzer refers to the offspring of an impaired party whose genealogical attribution is disqualified. Netinim — those whose ethnic origin derived from Giveonites who were circumcised in the time of Joshua. The Mishna defines the Shetuki (silenced ones) as a person who knows the identity of his mother but does not know the identity of his father (m. Qiddushin 4.2). The Mishna defines the Asufi (foundling) one who is discovered in the market and does not know the identity of his parents (m. Qiddushin 4.2). According to the books of Ezrah and Nehemiah, the social levels mentioned in this list or its parallels, like “Mamzerim,” “converts,” “freed slaves,” and “foundlings” are absent from the list of the returnees from Babylon: “They were all unable to tell whether their father’s house and descent were Israelite … Of the son of the Priests, the sons of Habaiah, the sons of Hakkoz … These searched for their genealogical records, but they could not be found, so they were disqualified for the priesthood” (Ez. 2.59–62; Neh. 7.61–64; cf. Bar-Ilan 2000). The notion of the complex venture of historical construction and the politics of identity has been thoroughly examined (cf. chapter 3, pp. 126–140). I will briefly mention that the selection of historical events enables a social group to produce a logical coherence between what “supposedly” happened in the past and the present situation of the social group. Similarly, by showing historical continuity with the society of the returnees from Babylon, the author is able to legitimate the contemporary social order of his time. Nevertheless, it should be emphasized that the Priests did not constitute a homogeneous social stratum, and among them there was an inner hierarchy of attribution — the Priestly families with a respected social status and those families with less prestige.

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

This hierarchy is divided into three sub-groups: (i) Those whose genealogical attribution is legitimate (‫ ;)כשר‬the Priests, Levites, and Israelites. As long as their family attribution is blameless they are permitted to marry one another. In this sub-group, social mobility can be in both directions, i.e. the daughter of a Priest can descend two steps in the hierarchic ladder if she marries an Israelite, and an Israelite woman can ascend to the top of the ladder if she marries a Priest. (ii) The second sub-group encompassed either those of “beclouded ancestry,” such as the proselytes and freed slaves (cf. L. Epstein 1942:183–195), or those whose genealogical attribution was partially defective, such as the case of an impaired Priest (Halal), i.e. one who was born of a union prohibited for Priests, such as with a divorcee. Accordingly, the Priest and his descendants would descend to the fourth place in the social hierarchy, as illustrated above. As mentioned already, an impaired Priest was prohibited from marrying a woman who came from a priestly family, and a daughter of an impaired male Priest or the daughter of the son of an impaired Priest was invalid for marriage into the priesthood for all time (t. Qiddushin 5.3; cf. m. Qiddushin 4.6). The preceding halakhah reveals that there was flexibility in the hierarchy, since the daughter of an impaired Priest, for example, could marry an Israelite and their daughter could marry into the priesthood (m. Qiddushin 4.6). This stipulation implies that the third generation of impaired Priests, theoretically, could climb to the top of the ladder. (iii) The third sub-group refers to those whose family attribution is defective or questionable, and who cannot ascend to the top of the social hierarchy. An example (which will be relevant to a later discussion in this chapter) is the case of the Mamzer. The Mamzer was prohibited from intermarrying with those who belonged to the “upper levels of society” (Priests, Levites, and Israelites), but could marry a convert, a freed slave, a foundling, and others who constituted the levels of inferior social status. According to this system, the possibility of vertical social mobility existed, but the system was extremely rigid.9 This description of society raises some problems that I have to take into consideration. It is important to underscore, that according to the halakhic system, there are social categories in Jewish society based on family attribution, i.e. Priests, Levites, and Israelites. However, in quasi-halakhic streams it is indicated that other social categories existed and operated according to criteria other than family attribution. I suggest that these social categories or groups could not fit into the halakhic system of the Sages, and therefore their social status is 9

It should be emphasized that social mobility in Jewish society is achievable only through marriage, thus only women, and not men, could be upwardly mobile. 275

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concealed. For example, the halakhah mentions certain families whose social status is concealed and who could marry into the priesthood. The repeated expression ‫( ישראלים המשיאין לכהונה‬Israelites who may marry into priesthood, m. Qiddushin 4.5; m. Ketubot 1.10; m. Sanhedrin 4.2; and others) appears to split the social category Israelites into two sub-categories, namely those who may marry a Priest and those who may not. However, no clear criteria are offered for these sub-categories. The question is whether their social status was evaluated not according to their family attribution but according to their socio-economic status. If the observation is correct, it is possible that the Sages tried to blur the status of other social categories, since they did not fit into the halakhic system of the Sages. Moreover, according to the above model, the Priests are acknowledged as a superior group in Jewish society.

New social reform: Personal achievement The model of dichotomy between family attribution and excellence in Torah scholarship Our point of departure is the Mishna, Horayot 3:8. This was often used in scholarly debate regarding the issue of social stratification, as we shall see later (cf. t. Horayot 2.10). Apparently, this model presents to us the co-existence of two conflicting systems of social stratification as we shall see in the following. Part A — a system based on genealogical attribution The ordinary Priest takes precedence over a Levite. And a Levite to an Israelite. And an Israelite to a Mamzer. And a Mamzer to a Netin. And a Netin to a convert. And a convert a freed slave (m. Horayot 3.8).

Part B — a system based on personal achievement Under what circumstances? When all of them are equivalent. But if the Mamzer was a Disciple of a Sage and a High Priest was an ‘Am ha’aretz, the Mamzer who is a Disciple of a Sage takes precedence over a High Priest who is an ‘Am ha’aretz (m. Horayot 3:8; cf. t. Horayot 2:10).

The basic idea in this theoretical halakhah is that the Sages recognized a contemporary social stratification based on genealogical attribution and maintained by the Priests. However, this system can exercise authority as long as it does not conflict with the new system based on personal achievement, which is based on the criterion of Torah studies. The criterion at stake is not heritage but merit. Since all have access to Torah studies, the social consequence is that all are considered equal with regard to their social origin. Even the Mamzer, whose social and religious status, as we shall see in the following, is at the 276

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

bottom of the social hierarchy, is placed at the top of the new hierarchy, and the High Priest, whose social and religious status is at the top echelon, according to the new criterion descends to the bottom. In other words, the existing social stratification based on family attribution is replaced by the new social order based on personal achievement.10

Dialectical tension between imitation and resistance The model above has led many scholars to assume that the existing social order based on genealogical attribution gradually lost its significance and that personal achievement based on Torah study became more and more dominant in Jewish society (Rabinowitz 1969; Yankelevitch 1983:160–1; Bar-Ilan 2000; and others). As stated earlier, the present writer dismisses the above naїve assumption and seeks to demonstrate the dialectical tension between the ideology of the group, based on social justice, and at the same time their imitation and adoption of the hegemonic discourse and praxis. In other words, while the group of the Sages professes a new social order based on intellectual achievement, they, nevertheless, frame this order on the old hegemonic discourse and praxis, i.e. the practice of nepotism, endogamy, protected knowledge, cultural capital, and other mechanisms of power used by the privileged group to perpetuate the existing social order. I will pose a new set of questions as a guideline that will be divided into three distinct topics: (i) The Mamzer: Did the religious and social status of the Mamzer change? How many Sages or Disciples of Sages do we know who are Mamzerim or came from an equivalent social background? Is there a change in the rabbinical texts regarding the social and religious status of the Mamzer during the Amoraitic period? (ii) The Priests: Did the social status of the Priests change in the eyes of the Sages? What is the relationship between the social structure and symbolic activities? How is the gesture of honor with respect to genealogical attribution expressed in society in general and in the world of study in particular? (iii) Personal achievement: Was Torah study open to all or only to the privileged? To what extent does cultural capital affect the opportunity of the “disadvantaged” to achieve a higher education? To what extent is nepotism and 10

From a sociological point of view, it is interesting to note that the new social groups, namely, the Mamzer [who is] a Disciple of the Sage and High Priest [who is] an ‘Am ha’aretz, comprise two social categories that belong to different social systems; the Priest and the Mamzer belong to the contemporary system of genealogical attribution, and the Disciple of the Sage and ‘Am ha’aretz to the system based on personal achievement. 277

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protected knowledge practiced among the group of the Sages with respect to the world of study? The social and religious status of the Mamzer The social and religious status of the Mamzer during the Tannaitic period Before evaluating whether the social and religious status of the Mamzer changed, I will first present the main argument, which subscribes to the point of view that the status of the Mamzer improved after the social reformation of the Sages. Bar-Ilan assumes that the status of the Mamzer is indeed transformed during the Tannaitic period; the Mamzerim, he argues, were not excluded from the community, but received a new status which diminished the social barrier between them and those who came from a higher level. Let us look at the evidence. His first argument is that the Sages included Mamzer in the count of the seven who could read the Torah portion on Sabbath (Bar-Ilan 2000:168, n. 134). R. Aqiba says: “On a festival day five [are called to read the torah], on the Day of Atonement, seven, on the Sabbath, six. And if they wanted to call more, they do call more. And all figure in the number of seven, even a woman, even a minor. They do not [however] bring a woman to read the Scripture in public” (t. Megillah 3:11; cf. m. Megillah 4.2).

The suggestion that a Mamzer could be among the seven who could read the Torah portion is mere speculation. The text does not imply directly or indirectly that the social category Mamzer was included among those who could participate in the ritual of reading Scripture at the synagogue. Moreover, it is more likely that the “all” in the above context deals with the social category “woman.” The text appears to indicate that there were instances of women reading the Torah portion; opposing this custom, R. Aqiba stipulated that a woman was prohibited from reading Scripture in public. Secondly, Bar-Ilan suggests that the Tannaitic literature provides us with evidence that the Tannaim stipulated that the Mamzerim could be members of the Sanhedrin and could obtain the office of a judge in the local court. [if] the court gave a decision, and one of the members of the court realized that they had erred … or if one of the them [the members of the court] was a proselyte, a Mamzer, a Netin (m. Horayot 1.4).

The idea that a Mamzer could be a member of the Sanhedrin or hold the office of judge in a local community is far-fetched in the historical reality of our time. The evidence Bar-Ilan produces is also in conflict with his assumption; The ruling in the Mishna is opposed to the idea that a Mamzer 278

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could officiate as a member in the Sanhedrin. Accordingly, the various mishnayot in Mishna Horayot chapter one list different cases (presumably theoretical) in which the court made wrong decisions, such as finding out that one of the members of the court was not suitable for teaching, or in our case, nominating someone to function as a judge who was later discovered to be a Mamzer. As a result, the court is obliged to bring a public offering for the mistakes they have made. To put this matter a bit differently, even in the court house, which symbolizes the application of Torah knowledge, and where the Mamzer who is a Disciple of the Sages is expected to have equal rights, he is, nevertheless, excluded. From the above, I conclude that although Bar-Ilan seeks to demonstrate that the social status of the Mamzer had been altered, the evidence he offers does not support his argument. As stated earlier in this chapter, Bar-Ilan further argues on the basis of literary analysis that there are over 50 halakhot which he labels “democratization of halakhah” that were composed with the intention of putting an end to the contemporary social order based on genealogical attribution. He demonstrates that the list of 10 social strata found in Mishna Qiddushin 4.1 is found in other places in the Tannaitic literature.11 See for example: All are obliged regarding the sounding of shofar, Priest, Levites, Israelites, converts, freed slaves, Halalim (impaired Priests) Netinim, Mamzerim, a Eunuch made by man, a Eunuch made by nature, one who has crushed testicles and one whose penis has been cut off (t. Rosh Hashanah 2.5).

The halakhot which indicate the social stratification, he argues, have the same literary pattern as those halakhot mentioned above and thus belong to the same group, i.e. they all start with the identical format of “everyone” + present tense verb (gerund). For example: “All are fit to purify the leper;” “All are fit to sanctify the water.”12 “Everyone” in this context refers to all social strata of Jewish society, such as Priests, Levites, Israelites, converts, freed slaves, impaired Priests, Netinim, Mamzerim, etc. These halakhot contain an element of polemic with the Priests who constituted the highest class in society. They were created, in Bar-Ilan’s view, in order to abolish the contemporary social order maintained by the Priests and instituting a new social order based on equality, thus diffusing the existing social division between the different groups.13 11

12 13

We can find the same type of pattern with minor nuances: m. Sheqalim 1.3; t. Berakhot 5.4; t. Rosh Hashanah 2.5; t. Megillah 2.7. m. Negaim 3.1; t. Negaim 8.1. For an extensive discussion regarding the issue of social formation of the Sages see Bar-Ilan 1982. 279

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The above observations provided by Bar-Ilan are most valuable, since they explicitly demonstrate the ongoing dialectical tension between the ideology and reality of the Sages. The “reality” of the halakhot that Bar-Ilan labels as “democratic” stands in contrast to the social reality of their own time. It is true that, theoretically, the intention of these halakhot was to abolish the social order maintained by the Priests, but are we to assume that they were practiced by the Sages or any other Jew who needed religious help? Let us imagine that an ordinary Jew had to be purified from his sin; would we then expect him to go to a Mamzer or a foundling, or would he prefer to receive professional help from a Priest? The Mishna stipulates that the Priests alone are qualified to declare someone pure or impure: “declaring pure or impure is in the hands of the Priest” (m. Negaim 3.1). Moreover, if we accept Bar-Ilan’s observation, we are led to conclude that within the Tannaitic sources there is ambivalence towards the role of the Priests. At “a certain moment” their authority is legitimized and they are perceived as superior in the social structure with respect to social and religious matters, and at “other moments” their exclusive role is rejected. Furthermore, the model which claims that a Mamzer who is a Disciple of a Sage precedes the High Priest who is ‘Am ha’aretz does not appear to reflect the historical reality. It should be emphasized, that this stipulation stands alone in the entire Tannaitic literature, i.e. there are no equivalents to this kind of formulation. Moreover, this halakhah was written as a general statement with no references to specific cases. On the contrary, as will be demonstrated shortly, the cases which deal with the issue of the Mamzer exclude him from all social and religious spheres of Jewish life. Furthermore, one would expect to find examples of Sages or Disciples of Sages who were Mamzerim, but again, neither the Tannaitic literature nor archaeological evidence (such as epigraphic findings) provide us with such information; on the contrary, the Sages are often addressed with different honorific titles that signified the member’s position and status in the group. The above examination, however, brings us to my preliminary conclusion, namely that what the Sages said and what they did in practice were not identical. Moreover, the assumption that the status of the Mamzer did not change after the social reform is further confirmed by the observation that certain social strata moved in the same circles (Priest, Levites, and Israelites), while other social categories (Netin, Shetuki, Asufi, Mamzer, etc.) belonged to a lower level of society. Accordingly, one would expect that the cluster of social category would be modified within the “social reform.” However, the Tannaitic literature lists numerous cases in which the Mamzer is placed with the Netin and other inferior social categories, and they are contrasted to those social categories that represent the higher class of society. The social category of the Mamzer calls for a general explanation of the social and religious status of the Mamzer. 280

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The religious definition of Mamzer Scholars recognize that the meaning and the implication of the social category “Mamzer” in the Tannaitic literature is an elusive one (cf. Bar-Ilan 2000; S. J. D. Cohen 2000; and others). The social category Mamzer refers to someone whose genealogical attribution is considered disqualified, and he and his family are prohibited from “entering the congregation of the Lord” even unto the tenth generation (Deut. 23:3). It is not clear what the prohibition “to enter the congregation” refers to. Nevertheless, it is possible that it refers to rules of marriage, such as who is allowed to marry whom (m. Qiddushin 4.1), e.g. Mamzerim and Netinim are prohibited [from marrying into the congregation], and their prohibition is perpetual, both for males and females (m. Yebamot 8.3). According to the Halakhah, a Mamzer is the offspring of an impaired person whose genealogical attribution is disqualified. However, the definition is not uniform among the Sages, as is shown in the following example: What is [the definition of] a Mamzer?: “[The offspring of] any [marriage of] near of kin which is forbidden under the rubric [of]. He shall not come into the congregation of the Lord” (Deut. 23.3). The words of R. Aqiba. Simeon of Timnah says: “Anyone for whom the punishment is karet at the hands of heaven, and the halakhah follows his view.” R. Joshua says: [The offspring of] any [sexual union] for which the punishment is death at the hands of the court” (m. Yebamot 4.13).

Accordingly, we have three opinions. The definition of a Mamzer, according to R. Aqiba is the strictest one: a child who is born of any forbidden union, i.e. if a man married his divorced wife’s mother, daughter, or sister, or the halutzah (a form of divorce) or the halutzah’s relative, the child is considered Mamzer (ibid. 4.12). The union is forbidden even if the violation was not considered particularly grave. The reform of Simeon of Timnah is that he limits the type of Mamzerim. Accordingly, a Mamzer refers to the punishment of karet, which means premature death, i.e. this punishment is not exercised by a human court but by heaven. The punishment of the Mamzer is compared with other transgressions relating to ervah (sexual relationships) prohibition (cf. Lev. 18.6–20). According to R. Joshua, the Mamzer is classified as a child of adultery, one who was born of a prohibited union such as that of a man and his mother (cf. Deut. 23.1 and 3). The above definitions indicate that the social category Mamzer is perceived negatively by the Sages. Moreover, as we shall see in the following, this negative attitude towards the Mamzer continued to exist in the Amoraitic period. 281

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The social and religious status of the Mamzer during the Amoraitic period The negative attitude towards the Mamzer during the Amoraitic period is vividly reflected in the story below: R. Huna said: “A Mamzer does not live more than thirty days.” In the time of R. Berekiah a Babylonian came up here, [and he knew that] he was a Mamzer. He said to him: “Rabbi give me [charity].” He said to him: “Tomorrow you will appear in the congregation and I will provide you something from the community chest.” He came and went into session and gave a lesson. When he had finished the lesson, he said to them: “Brethren, provide for this one, who is a Mamzer.” When the congregation had gone out, he said to him: “Rabbi I asked you for sustenance for this life, and you have deprived that man [me] of life.” He said to him: “I have given you your very life. For R. Ba in the name of R. Huna in the name of Rab stated that a Mamzer lives only thirty days. In what circumstances? When the matter is not known. But if the matter is public, he lives a good life [longer]’” (j. Qiddushin 3.12, 64c).

According to the story above, the Mamzer is stigmatized in Jewish society. He is considered as a ritually polluted person from whom the Jewish public needs to be protected. The inferior status of the Mamzer is legitimized by a religious convention; the Mamzer is deprived of the blessing of this life by the fact that he cannot live more than thirty days. However, there is one exception to the rule: the life of the Mamzer can be spared only if his status is known to the public. Moreover, according to the argument handed down in the name of R. Berekiah, there is a kind of unwritten negotiation; if the status of the Mamzer is publicly known, the members of the Jewish community are able to protect their genealogical attribution by preventing an illegitimate marriage with the Mamzer; in return, the life of the Mamzer will be spared. However, the Babylonian who was known as a Mamzer rightly asked how he could possibly live a “good life,” knowing that he would be excluded from the Jewish community. The above examination indicates that the Sages embraced a negative attitude towards the Mamzer, which further legitimized the exclusion of the Mamzer from the Jewish community. The Mamzerim are placed at the periphery of Jewish society and are considered inferior. The severity of their status is reflected by the religious sanctions carried out against them and the negative verbal evaluation that expresses critical attitudes towards them. In other words, the Mamzerim appear to be excluded from the realm of social and religious spheres during the Tannaitic period and beyond. Nevertheless, it should be noted that the literary sources do not provide us with any information as to whether the Mamzerim could take part in religious life or engage in certain occupations. Moreover, the array of choices available to the Mamzerim and the activities in which they could engage were extremely limited. 282

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The inevitable conclusion is that the halakhah that stipulates that the Mamzer who is Disciple of the Sage precedes the High Priest who is ‘Am ha’aretz is theoretical and does not reflect the social reality of the period.

Social hierarchy and symbolic order according to genealogical attribution Yankelevitch argues (1983) that from a socio-historical point of view, after the destruction of the Temple, there was a considerable decline in the social status of the Priests and their unique position as a social group that derived mainly from their ministry in the Temple. He maintains that although the Priests had certain privileges and rights, such as reading the Torah portion at the synagogue or giving the priestly blessing during public prayers in the synagogue, these actions were mere symbols created in order to emphasize their status as individuals but not as a group (ibid. 158). The distinction, however, between symbolic action and the power relationship of the Priests presented by Yankelevitch is somewhat arbitrary and misleading; he appears to undermine the intimate relationship between social hierarchy and symbolic order, as we shall see in the following. Unlike the perspective of Yankelevitch, A. Cohen (1974) illustrates how symbolic action and power relationship are intimately interrelated. In his book “Two-Dimensional Man,” A. Cohen presents his hypothesis about the dialectical relationship between power and symbolism and assumes that these two functions are interwoven in all social interactions. Power, according to A. Cohen, does not derive from physical force, material capital, or social function, as we would assume, but from a complex body of symbols. His definition of symbols is rather extensive. Symbolic actions are the primordial engine that cultivates and sustains human relationship and these actions encompass a wide spectrum of social affairs: “Symbols are objects, acts, relationships or linguistic formations that stand ambiguously for a multiplicity of meanings … impel men to action” (1974:24). Symbols include rituals, ceremonies, and a distinct lifestyle, which are expressed through speech accents, special clothes, manners, and a host of other traits. Thus, all social order is embedded in symbolic form. Moreover, symbols are created to express and legitimize social structure. In view of that, A. Cohen reasons that social anthropologists use the analysis of symbolic form as a point of departure to unveil how a power relationship is practiced between individuals and groups. It is only through symbols that we can grasp the mechanism of social hierarchy. He writes: “We ‘see’ groups through their symbols. Value, norms, rules and abstract concepts like honour, prestige, rank, justice, good and evil are made tangible through symbols” (ibid. 30). 283

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Gestures of honor with respect to genealogical attribution in the daily life of the Sages The idea that social hierarchy based on genealogical attribution is reflected in symbolic rites performed in the world of the Sages is replicated in the daily life of the Sages in different social locations. Moreover, the Priests appear to have certain precedence (zechut qedima) in various rites, and the acknowledgment of the Priests as a superior group in these contexts was legitimized and reinforced by the Sages. Here are some examples: R. Joshua ben Levi said: “In my entire life, I have never recited the blessings [before the meal] when in the presence of a Priest. And [when there was no Priest present] I never allowed an Israelite to recite a blessing in my presence [because I, a Levite, take precedence over an Israelite]” (j. Berakhot 5.4, 9d).

Cooperation can easily turn into a resistance Two instances will be shown in which the Sages apparently give recognition to the Priests’ superior position but actually are acting within the social structure in order to undermine their superior position. Let us look at the evidence: “And thou shalt come” (Duet. 17.9) to include the high court at Jabneh. “Unto the Priests and Levites.” It is a commandment to have Priests and Levites in the court. If it is a command, then is a court lacking Priests and Levites disqualified? It is said “and to the judge” even when Priests and Levites are absent it is still a qualified court (Sifre Deuteronomy 153).

The above halakhah reveals that even though the Sages portray the Priests as retaining their judicial status, it is presented in a diminished manner. We can interpret this as evidence that the Sages cooperated with the priestly hegemonic discourse and its praxis, and yet at the same time they subtly undermined the exclusive judicial status of the Priests and Levites. Our next evidence depicts the ambivalence between legitimacy and resistance: And these rules did they state in the interests of peace: A Priest reads first, and afterwards a Levite, and afterwards an Israelite, in the interest of peace (m. Gittin 5.8; cf. j. ibid. 5.9, 46b; b. ibid. 59b).

It was generally accepted that on Sabbath there were 7 persons who read the Torah portion in the synagogue (t. Megillah 3.11) in hierarchical order, according to their genealogical attribution. The Sages apparently give recognition to the hegemonic praxis, however, they change the structure by means of a new legitimacy. By substituting the phrase “for the sake of peace” instead of the expected genealogical claim, they are undermining the superior 284

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position of the Priests. Thus the Sages’ structure of legitimacy is not focused on the hegemonic discourse based on genealogical attribution, but the focus here is merely on avoiding clashes. If the observation is correct, by operating within the traditional religious structure, the Sages are able undermine the foundation of the hegemonic discourse and to uncover its modes and its justification. Gestures of honor with respect to genealogical attribution in the world of study The observation made by A. Cohen regarding the relationship between symbolic action and power is applicable to our material, which is articulated in different social locations. Thus, the order of the participants in the rites which take place, for example, in the academy, legitimatizes their own position in the contemporary social hierarchy and their own social role in relation to the other participants, as either superior, equal, or inferior. As shown elsewhere, symbolic hierarchy was not absent in the world of the Sages during the Tannaitic period. I have demonstrated how the ritual ceremony was choreographed in the High Court in such a way that the social status of those who participated in it was symbolically choreographed according to the contemporary social hierarchy of the group, i.e. the members of the Sanhedrin sat in a semi-circle according to their honorific status within the group (chapter 3, pp. 180–181). Accordingly, the Patriarch sat in the middle and the elders who constituted the joint leadership with the Patriarch sat at his left and his right. Behind them sat the Sages who were considered advanced in learning, at the outer edge of the semi-circle sat the newly appointed Sages, and opposite the Sages sat the Disciples of the Sages. The three rows of Disciples of Sages sat before the Small Sanhedrin, which was composed of ordained Sages who sat in the inner circle, in contrast to the Disciples of the Sages who sat in the outer ring. Moreover, according to the Jerusalem Talmud, gestures of honor with respect to the Academy continued to play a dominant role, as expressed in the following halakhah. He said to him: “I served father while standing up [so learning things which you did not learn when] you served him seated in your sessions” (j. Shabbat 10.5, 12c).14

The Jerusalem Talmud adds that rows of benches in the study hall were reserved for the Disciples who had permanent places, while others had to stand. 14

See also Libermann (1934:166) who indicates other sources which relate to the order of hierarchy; cf. Ben-Shalom 1987. 285

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Although the restructuring refers to the inner hierarchy of Sages, it strengthens the notion that the Sages imitated the social hierarchy practiced at the Sanhedrin in Jerusalem and applied it to the structure of their own group. Moreover, diacritical marking of hierarchical order is symbolically manifested publicly in the lifestyle of the Sages; when the Sages walked together there were several rulings which standardized codes of behavior, i.e. how one should walk, with whom and in what order. The ruling below will illustrate my point of view: Said R. Hanina: “Two Israelites and one Priest [walking together], they permit the Priest to walk in the middle [as a sign of respect for his status]. When is this so? When they are all equal in status. But if one of them [the Israelite] is a Disciple of the Sage, they permit the Haver [= Disciple of the Sages] to walk in the middle” (j. Berakhot 5.4, 9c).

From the above we observe that the symbolic hierarchy, as manifested in the public sphere, is used as a diacritical marking to reflect the lifestyle of the Sages and the contemporary social order based on genealogical attribution. The Sages were concerned not only about whom they were seen with in public, but that the interaction between superior, equal, and inferior would be visible to all. The Sages recognized the Priests as a superior group, which is reflected in the rites associated with the social location of the synagogue.

The weight of family attribution When one re-examines the Tannaitic and Amoraitic sources, it appears that the Sages gave recognition to the hegemonic discourse and praxis regarding genealogical attribution. In the following, I will demonstrate that the Sages cooperated with the hegemonic discourse during the Tannaitic and Amoraitic period. Family attribution during the Tannaitic period Generally speaking, the Tannaitic literature indicates that the practice of genealogical attribution was publicly acknowledged by the Sages. I have argued elsewhere (cf. chapter 6, pp. 273–276) that the phrase “ten castes came from Babylon” (m. Qiddushin 4.1) reflects the contemporary sociological structure at the time of the Tannaim. From this I deduce that the structure of family attribution that existed during the late Second Temple period prevailed during the time of the Tannaim. Moreover, this idea is further supported by the account of Josephus, which was written a few years after the destruction of the Temple, regarding the importance of genealogical 286

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attribution.15 Moreover, the fact that the Sages recognized genealogical attribution and preserved the list of those who had family attribution indicates that this continued to play a significant role among them as well (m. Taanit 4.5; t. Peah 4.11).16 Family attribution during the Amoraitic period Moreover, the idea that family attribution continued to play a significant role during the Amoraitic period is shown in the evidence below. Ta-Shema (1956) has argued that the Sages often underscored the importance of family attribution in their lectures (drasha). The story below will illustrate my point of view: Said R. Hiyya bar Ba: “They went out of the ark by their families (Gen. 8.19). Because they had preserved their family lineage, they had the merit of being saved from the ark. You may know that is the case, for we have learned: Ham, the dog, and the raven misbehaved [by having sexual relations in the ark] Ham went forth blackened. The dog went forth dissolute in his sexual conduct. The raven went forth different from all other creatures” (j. Taanit 1.6, 64d; cf. j. Kilayim 9.4, 32b).

Genealogical attribution is justified and is used as an explanation to show that those who did not observe it were punished. The statement below subscribes to the same point of view. It is difficult for the Omnipresent to uproot a genealogical chain from its rightful place (j. Sukkah 5.8).

The Sages further legitimize the praxis of genealogical attribution by explaining it in a cosmological context. From the above examination I conclude that the evidence appears to indicate that social stratification based on genealogical attribution played a major role in Jewish society and had an enormous impact on social and religious life. Moreover, I have repeatedly demonstrated that the Sages not only recognized this system but practiced it, as seen in different social locations, such as marriage, occupation, synagogue, the academy, and the lifestyle of the Sages. Moreover, using the model of Scott (1990), I showed the ambivalent attitude of the Sages towards the priestly hegemony as reflected in different modes of discourse, such as legitimacy and resistance.

15

16

Scholars tend to agree that the Jewish War was written between 75–79, Jewish Antiquities between 73–93, Against Apion, and Vita between 93–100 C.E. Ta-Shema (1956) argued that this list derives from the Persian period; nevertheless, the fact that the Sages preserve it and write it down indicates the importance of the system. 287

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Inheritance or personal achievement? The role of Torah study in relation to social stratification Our next and final task is to examine the role of Torah study in relation to the social stratification within the rabbinic ranks. Was Torah study indeed the means by which individuals could climb up the social ranks and upgrade their social status?17 Or was it restricted to those who came from “Torah-educated families?” In other words, could anyone who had the intellectual capacity become a Disciple of a Sage, regardless of his socio-economic background? I would suggest that despite the fact that the group of the Sages presented a revolutionary ideology, i.e. that Torah study is open to all, in reality the situation was quite different and not everyone had access to it. In the following, I will present two interrelated mechanisms of power used by the group of the Priests which appear to have been replicated by the group of the Sages; cultural capital through which protected knowledge is preserved and the practice of group nepotism. The Tanna reveals to us a halakhic dispute regarding the criterion for the recruitment of Disciples: And raise up many Disciples, for Beit Shammai says: “One should only teach someone who is wise, humble and the son of (distinguished) ancestry and rich; and Beit Hillel says: One should teach everybody, for there were many sinners in Israel that came close to Torah study, and righteous, saintly and worthy men were descended from them” (ARN/A 3).18

The dichotomy between family attribution and personal achievement is also applied to the recruitment policy of discipleship: Heritage (morasha) and not inheritance (jerusha) — the son of ‘Am ha’aretz should not say: “Since my father [is not a] Disciple of the Sages, what will it profit me if I learn Torah?” (Midrash Tannaim 33.4).

Here the Tanna emphasizes the dichotomy by a play on words; heritage versus inheritance in relation to the study of Torah. Heritage in this context refers to Torah knowledge (cf. Shemot Rabba 33.7). The heritage belongs to “the children of Israel,” and therefore Torah study is accessible to everyone and “everyone” has the “right to Torah” regardless of his social background. The concept “inheritance” generally refers to material possessions a son may inherit 17

18

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This idea is supported by numerous halakhot and midrashim which point in the same direction. For an extensive discussion about the importance of Torah study, see Z. Safrai and H. Safrai 2002. ARN/B 4 reads: “Beit Shammai say: Only the worthy sons of (distinguished) father and the sons of the sons of (distinguished) fathers are to be taught” and Beit Hillel says: “Everyone.”

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from his father (Z. Safrai 1983). However, in this context, inheritance refers to “cultural inheritance” that the son “inherits” through family upbringing, therefore it is conditional. It discriminates in favor of those who come from “Toraheducated families,” who enjoyed certain privileges such as having the right to succeed their parents in status and obtaining social and religious positions high in the social ranking of the Sages. The message of the Tanna is perfectly clear: personal achievement and not group nepotism is the decisive criterion for the recruitment of a Disciple. This piece of information is most valuable since it reveals important information about the historical reality of the Tannaitic period. First of all, it confirms the continued practice of social hierarchy based on family attribution. Secondly, it further confirms the idea that the social category ‘Am ha’aretz is conceived as inferior to the Sages in the social hierarchy. Thirdly, it provides us with a new piece of information, namely that the social categories in the social hierarchy according to the world view of the Sages are present in the “second generation” as “son of ‘Am ha’aretz” and “son of the Disciple of the Sage.” This brings us to the next question: What did the Sages do in practice? In order to answer this I need to discover the mechanisms that enabled privileged classes to maintain a superior position vis-à-vis other social classes in Jewish society.

Cultural capital and nepotism as a means of centralizing power by the privileged group As stated earlier, the theoretical approach of Bourdieu to class and social mobility is closely related to my examination (Bourdieu 1987). Offering an alternative to the theoretical approach of Marx, Bourdieu stressed that not only material capital, means of production, and relations of production are essential for the position of an individual in society. In addition, according to Bourdieu, cultural capital is also a means by which individuals can maintain or alter their social position (Bourdieu 1977:495; Robbins 2000:23–39). Cultural capital refers to clothing, certain types of tastes, choices, practices, and particular lifestyles (e.g. accent, dress, manners, patterns of friendship, exclusive gatherings, practice of endogamy and ideology) which are more highly valued than others in a given cultural system. Nevertheless, Bourdieu underlines that cultural capital, which consists mainly of linguistic and cultural competence, is acquired from early childhood on with the help of parents, friends, and social surroundings. He explained that it is through family upbringing that the child can learn how to decipher the details of cultural codes, i.e. know-how, codes of behavior, of dressing, of speaking or of doing, how one should make personal contacts, what type of art is preferable, etc. (Bourdieu 1977:494; Shapiro and Ben-Eliezer 1993:148; Jackendoff 1994:215). 289

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One of Bourdieu’s main points is that the educational system plays an important role in the reproduction of the social distribution of cultural capital and in the reproduction of power relationships between classes. In his view, the educational system is an instrument used by the dominant group to perpetuate their own cultural values. Bourdieu cites: In fact, the statistics of theatre, concert, and above all, museum attendance … are sufficient reminders that the inheritance of cultural wealth, which has been accumulated and bequeathed by previous generations only really belongs (although it is theoretically offered to everyone) to those endowed with the means of appropriating it for themselves. In view of the fact that the apprehension and possession of cultural goods as symbolic goods … are possible only for those who hold the code, making it possible to decipher them (Bourdieu 1977:488).

Bourdieu discerned that there is a correlation between cultural and material capital and the array of choices that individuals are able to perceive as attainable in the social structure they belong to. Material and cultural capital play a decisive role with respect to the extent to which members of the group will be able to engage in certain activities and develop their capacities in a given social structure (Bourdieu 1984; Burkitt 1991:174). In other words, cultural and material constraints limit the ability of members of social classes to move towards certain positions within a society. The boundaries between the social classes are marked by diacritical features. Diacritical features are public signs and symbols that may be consciously employed in order to maintain the boundaries between the social groups. In other words, for Bourdieu, cultural capital is an artificial indicator by which individuals and social groups distinguish themselves in order to mark their position in the social structure. Moreover, cultural capital is an asset employed by privileged groups in order to perpetuate their values and thus maintain a superior position vis-à-vis other social classes.19 Bourdieu’s theoretical framework appears to support Alon’s idea about the son of the Sages. 19

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Bourdieu’s theory has been used in various academic “fields” such as education, literature, art, philosophy, politics, social anthropology, sociology, and linguistics. As an example from education, many studies have indicated that the school system reproduces the social order and thus perpetuates the social structure; education has often been used as a parameter for social selection and exclusion, since those who come from a lower socio-economic background have problems adjusting in the school system and using it as a tool for upward mobility (Bourdieu 1977). This idea is supported by Willis (1977) who conducted an ethnographic study in a high school in England attended mostly by students from a working class background. These students felt that their life in high school was extremely abstracted, and had little to do with the reality they had to face as workers. Willis suggested that the source of their discontent could be traced to their homes.

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

In his article “The son of the Sages” (1977:436–457), Alon argued that Torah study was restricted to the circle of the Sages. He defined the Sages as a “ ‘class’ which incorporates within itself a heritage of scholarship and dignity, some sort of spiritual and professional aristocracy” (ibid. 437). Alon discerned that within the ranks of the Sages there existed a social category “the sons of Sages”20 that was distinguished from the social category “the Disciples of the Sages,” as recorded in the Tosefta: Sons of the Sages and the Disciple of the Sages, when the public needs them, may even tread on the heads of the people. Even though they have said that it is no praise of the Disciple that he should enter last, he goes out for his need and reenters and sits in his place. The son of the Sages and the Disciple of the Sages when they have the knowledge to understand turn their faces towards their fathers; when they do not have the knowledge to understand, they turn their faces towards the people. R. Elazar ben Zadok says: in the house of feasting, they are treated as attached [to their fathers]” (t. Sanhedrin 7.8–9; b. Horayot 13b).

Alon’s main argument regarding the social status of the sons of the Sages is that they were the natural candidates to inherit the advantages bestowed on their parents, having the right to succeed their parents in status and obtain certain positions/functions restricted to a few. In practice, this meant that the sons of the Sages shared the honors awarded to their fathers in the public spheres, as in the Synagogue, academy, house of feasting, etc. They also inherited the social position of their fathers in teaching Torah to their Disciples21 and in public service obtained positions such as Parnas, spiritual leader, judge, and other functions relating to civic public affairs.22 Alon further supported his idea by showing the correlation between heredity and office holding, arguing that family precedence played a decisive role with regard to inheriting offices. Accordingly, during the Tannaitic period, Torah teaching was a profession passed on from father to son.23 Alon stated: “During our period, crafts were concentrated within the bounds of the family, were passed on from father to son as an inheritance” (Alon 1977:445; cf. Z. Safrai 1983). Moreover, to learn this 20

21

22 23

Alon dated the existence of “sons of Sages” as a social group to the middle of the second century, since they are already mentioned in the days of R. Elazar ben Zadok (Alon 1977:444). Alon (1977) maintained that the ability to pass on the knowledge of Torah study to their Disciples was exclusive to the Sages, since they were considered the “experts”: “The Sage being the master craftsman imparting specialized knowledge to those who sought instruction from him” (ibid. 444). For an extensive discussion on the status of the Sages as a class, see Alon 1989:294–354. Alon suggested that the profession of “Torah teaching” was combined with a worldly occupation by certain Sages. 291

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profession one needed both time and money; “one of whom took 200 zuz24 and went to study Torah or to learn a trade” (t. Baba Batra 10.4). In other words the “profession” was limited to those who had the material capital to afford it. I would add that according to Midrash Tannaim 33.4, nepotism existed not only among the sons of the Sages but also among the sons of the Disciple of the Sages. Applying the theoretical framework of Bourdieu regarding upbringing as a reproduction of social class, I suggest that this correlation between heredity and office holding is not consciously reproduced, but may result from a process of family upbringing, transferring social and cultural capital from parents to offspring. The opportunity to climb up the social ladder was unequally distributed; those who had family attribution had advantages over those who did not come from Torah-educated families; the latter had greater choice and could engage in activities restricted to a few, and thus develop proficiency in knowledge of the Torah. Moreover, through family upbringing, sons were encouraged to pursue an “academic career” and could enjoy the advantages of their “parents’ position, experience and guidance” (Z. Safrai 1994a:31). Still, one might ask to what extent nepotism was practiced among the Sages. One way to find this out is to investigate the percentage of those who came from a rabbinical family during the Tannaitic period. The practice of nepotism among the group of the Sages Previously, I demonstrated that nepotism involves the notion that people would prefer to interact intimately with those who are considered as belonging to the “approved categories” and that nepotism further enhanced the power existing among the in-group members (cf. Van Den Berghe 1979; 1981; Fox 1979; Baldi 1994; Jones 2000 and others). Z. Safrai (1994a), who investigated the literary sources and epigraphic data, assumes that the practice of nepotism was rather limited. Despite the particular methodological problem involved in the examination of the sources,25 his examination shows that approximately 30 percent of the group of the Sages were sons of Rabbis or other relatives of Rabbis (ibid. 29). He argues that natural 24 25

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See glossary. Z. Safrai lists the four main problems: (i) There is no a complete list of the Tannaitic Sages. (ii) Not all who have the designation Rabbi are mentioned in the sources. (iii) The Talmudic literature does not provide us with extensive information regarding the social background of the rabbinic families. (iv) The title Rabbi is often absent in certain textual contexts (ibid. 28). The consequence of this methodological problem is limited access to the type of information that would enable me to reconstruct the social background of the Sages.

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

heritage alone was not sufficient, but that a talent for Torah scholarship was the primary trait required in order to achieve superior positions in the rabbinic order. This assumption is based on the fact that not all sons of prominent rabbis occupied leading rabbinical positions. Z. Safrai lists some examples where the sons or rabbis or fathers of rabbis were not important figures within the rabbinic ranks, i.e. R. Haninah ben R. Abahu, R. Joshua ben Levi, R. Hiyya bar Abba, R. Ilai the father of R. Yehudah, a prominent rabbi from Usha. Disputing Z. Safrai’s conclusion, I would argue that the practice of nepotism was not “limited,” but was a widespread phenomenon among the Sages. First of all, thirty percent is a considerable number. Secondly, if we take into account the existence of the sons of the Disciples of the Sages as a distinct social category within the group of the Sages, the percentage is significantly higher. Thus, I suggest that the incidence of nepotism among the Sages was much higher than thirty percent. Thirdly, Z. Safrai claims that nepotism alone is insufficient to achieve a prominent position in the rabbinical ranks, but that natural talent for the study of Torah is also a precondition.26 The problem, however, is in the fact that nepotism was certainly a necessary condition; that is, those who claimed to have such talent were members within the class of the Sages. This leads us to the next conclusion, which has already been suggested. The same mechanism used in the social stratification based on genealogical attribution by the Priests is repeated in the new social hierarchy based on Torah studies. From the above, I conclude that access to Torah study was not open to everyone with a talent for Torah study, but to a great extent was limited to those who came from Torah-educated families, who obtained social and religious privileges. Moreover, establishment of the new class, which includes both “son of the Sages” and “son of the Disciples of the Sages,” proves that genealogical attribution and property were decisive criteria for recruiting new Disciples. Hence, society after the destruction of the Second Temple was not an open society, as would appear at first glance.

26

Nevertheless, Z. Safrai (1994a) is well aware of the fact that the opportunities to move up in the rabbinical ranks are not distributed equally among the Sages. He writes: “The authors of this monograph could not deny this possibility, nonetheless the data seems to suggest more than a natural advantage. For a comparative illustration, in England of the seventies, in a modern society with legal open opportunities, though highly conservative in its customs, sons of professors had a 6:1 better chance statistically to complete a university degree than ordinary students” (1994a:30). 293

Summary and conclusions

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

The challenge of this research has been to rethink prevailing ideas about the social map of the Tannaitic period. New insights into the social relations and identities were made possible by using anthropological theories and tools. Thus the main focus is on the self-presentation and self-perception of the Tannaitic Sages as a superior group in Jewish society and their presentation of significant others, namely the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz. I will now present the main findings of this research:

1. Mapping the identity of the Tannaitic Sages I. Self-perception as an elite group The assumption that the Tannaitic Sages perceived themselves as a ruling group can be deduced from the following observations: (i) Bodily control — the correlation between bodily discipline and its place in the social hierarchy, shows that a group whose members are capable of controlling and disciplining their body has the legitimacy to control its own society. I noted such bodily discipline amongst the Sages, who were punctilious in their outward appearance and public behavior in different social locations, e.g. the market place, synagogue, court house, and bath house. I would therefore suggest, that their bodily discipline is indicative of their self-perception as an elite group. (ii) Symbols of status — the Sages used different symbols of status to distinguish themselves as a superior group in their cultural setting. In certain instances, the Sages even stipulated new enactments that compelled the public to acknowledge them as superiors, e.g. the public is obligated to mourn for their leaders who belong to the group of the Sages. (iii) Self-image as public servants — the Sages portrayed themselves as being in charge of public affairs. They presented themselves as controlling high positions and assuming a greater responsibility over the community. Moreover, both the patriarchal body and the Sanhedrin, which constituted the national High Court and the Great Academy and its members, were identified by the Sages as belonging to their elite group. 294

Summary and conclusions

(iv) Highly organized — the Sages described themselves as having a clear and defined hierarchical system: (a) They used different honorific titles to signify the member’s position and status in the group. (b) They used a set of rules and tasks that were often connected to ceremonial honor. (c) They had an elaborate network of cooperation. (d) They appointed leaders. (e) They appointed authority figures. (v) The use of language as a social marker — the Sages used the Hebrew language which denotes the high culture of the Jews, i.e. the language of the Holy Scriptures and the cultic sphere, as opposed to Aramaic, which was the spoken language in daily affairs. By using the Hebrew language, they showed themselves and others that they had mastered the language of the cultic sphere and were carrying on authentic Jewish traditions, and thus had the legitimacy to function as the spiritual leaders of the Jewish nation. (vi) Historical construction as a ruling group — in the process of constructing their historical narrative, several observations were made: The Tannaitic Sages elaborated and conflated the idea that the written and oral law had its origin from the time of Moses and has been handed down to the Tannaitic Sages without interruption. They eliminated the central role of the Priests as teachers, judges, and leaders from their writings, which eventually became the Jewish national narrative. Moreover, they presented themselves as controlling Jewish institutions such as the High Court, the Temple, and the Priesthood. In this way, they were able to claim their rights to leadership within the Jewish establishment. II. Behavior as a ruling elite (i) The culture of elites The model of A. Cohen regarding the particular and universal culture of the elite enabled me to demonstrate that the Sages conceived of themselves and acted as an elite group. I observed the interdependency between the particular and universal factors, i.e. the dynamic relationships between the use of diacritical features and the value system, which signaled the distinctive identity of the group of the Sages and the interaction of power relationships within Jewish society, i.e. their members intercede in national affairs as leaders, judges, teachers of the law, etc. The particular culture of the Sages Several observations were made with respect to the particular culture of the Sages: (1) Maintaining the distinctiveness of the particular culture group. The Sages developed and maintained their group distinctiveness through the usage of diacritical features and a value system, such as the ideal of learning Torah, the 295

Summary and conclusions

meticulous observance of ritual purity and impurity, Master-Disciple relationships, their public appearance, the use of Hebrew names and the Hebrew language. (2) The social network of interdependency. Group integration and solidarity were attained through a massive amount of primary communal relationships, which linked the members together through a variety of social ties. (a) They spent their leisure time together at the banquet house and the bath house, they visited one another, they had communal meals, they attended each other’s weddings and came to console mourners, etc. (b) The network of reciprocal help and the practice of altruism are expressed in various ways, e.g. with respect to the practice of groomsmen, funeral and mourning rites, marriage ties, and the interdependency between the Master and his Disciples. (3) Communal organizations and power maintenance. I deduced that different methods and mechanisms of power used by the group of the Sages to distinguish themselves as a privileged group and maintain their hold on the religious, intellectual, and political life of Jewish society. For example, the practice of intermarriage and group nepotism are mechanisms by which the self-perpetuation of the elite group is preserved. Moreover, exclusive gatherings and protected knowledge were used by the superior group as means of maintaining political power. My examination reveals that there are three spheres in which protected knowledge is expressed: (a) moral exclusiveness with respect to the practice of ritual purity and impurity; (b) the intimate circle of the Master and his Disciples; (c) the upper room. For example, I deduced that the exclusive gatherings in the upper room constituted the structure of protected knowledge with respect to the enactment of new laws that had social and religious consequences on the development of the group and of the public. The universal culture of the Sages The universal culture of the Sages is expressed in several aspects: (1) Universalistic tasks. A large number of Sages carried out several universalistic tasks that served the interests of Jewish society. They were active in various social, religious, and political contexts, e.g. helping the poor, fighting for social justice, teaching the general public, solving unresolved halakhic matters, leading the communities, stipulating new enactments, functioning as judges and as public supervisors. Moreover, they represented the needs of the Jewish communities to the Roman authorities. (2) Cooperation between leaderships. The fact that a large number of Sages controlled high positions in various Jewish institutions and were leaders of the national Supreme Court enabled them to cooperate with the local leaders with regard to public legal actions. This cooperation is expressed through (a) the frequent visits by the Patriarch and members of the Sanhedrin to Jewish 296

Summary and conclusions

communities throughout the country and abroad, which afforded the opportunity to discuss and resolve matters with local leaders; (b) visits by members of local and Diaspora Jewish communities to the Supreme Court to discuss and resolve legal matters. The dialectic between the particular and universal culture I have demonstrated that the universalistic and particularistic aspects are often interwoven: On the one hand, private and informal gatherings were used to coordinate and enhance the universal interests of the group. On the other hand, gatherings at the formal institutions were used to enhance the political interests of the group. They also provided a framework for cooperation and integration, and thus made it possible to strengthen their own group identity. (ii) Social empowering of an elite group Using the model of Pareto and Mosca regarding elites, several mechanisms were noted to mobilize the process of social empowering of an elite group. (1) Inventiveness — by creating a new value system, they not only restored the social and religious life of the Jewish nation to normality but they promoted the group interests and goals and retained their power as a ruling group, e.g. the Sages under the leadership of Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai initiated social and religious reforms, such as the transition from the Temple to the synagogue and the home. In addition, they attempted to change the social structure from one based on family attribution to one based on intellectual achievement in Torah study. (2) An organized minority against a diverse majority — due to the highly structured organization that the Sages developed and the strong cooperation and organization of the group, it was possible for them to present themselves as a united group that would act in agreement in different social locations. Moreover, being a small and well-organized group, they had the ability to intercede for the public in national affairs. (3) Outstanding individuals — the Sages produced several outstanding leaders who led the Jewish nation in times of crisis, e.g. Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai, Rabban Gamaliel II, R. Aqiba, and R. Joshua. (4) Mediators — within the elite ruling group there was a lower stratum called mediators whose task was to mediate between the general public and the higher stratum of the ruling group (members of the Sanhedrin). In this case, I identified the mediators as the Haverim, the Disciples of the Sages, and local leaders. Moreover, the fact that the majority of Sages lived and were active in many rural settlements enabled them to have direct interactions with the people at different levels of communication and thus to achieve greater political and religious influence. 297

Summary and conclusions

The examination reveals that although the Sages portray themselves as the sole representatives of the Jewish nation, they were not the only ruling elite, but part of the leadership of the Jewish community, i.e. they were participating in the process of defining the new social order. It appears that, to a certain extent, the Sages had influence with respect to the educational, juridical, and religious systems in Jewish society.

2. Mapping of the identity of the Priests The Priests (especially the High Priests) during the Second Temple period were often portrayed by scholars as being Hellenized and cooperating with the foreign aristocracy. Using the model of Geertz for negotiating primordial identities, I demonstrated that the group of the Priests had multiple identities, each one depending on the particular context. The Priests were willing to relinquish certain elements of their primordial identity in order to gain benefits from the greater empire. Nevertheless, the policy of assimilating certain elements of the Greco-Roman identity did not mean total denial of their specific priestly identity. On the contrary, my examination reveals that they enthusiastically retained certain elements of their specific identity, such as language, genealogy, ideology, and biological relationship. The Priests continued to retain their group cohesion and distinctiveness after the destruction of the Temple. This situation is reflected in several aspects: There is a demographic transition of priestly courses from Judea to the Galilee; they live together in priestly settlements; they retain their particular priestly culture, e.g. the practice of endogamy, family attribution, practicing their own ritual ceremonies, eating their priestly gifts in a state of purity, and continuing to practice rules of ritual purity and impurity. Moreover, it was demonstrated that the reorganization of the Priests in the new priestly settlements also entailed the reorganization of local schools, courts, and synagogues. The assumption that the Priests were able to perpetuate their superior position as a ruling group may be deduced from the following: (i) They constituted the cultural hegemony of the Jewish society. Their superior position in the social structure is based on divine law, which enabled them to universalize their own interests by presenting their ideological hegemony as the interest of all, e.g. the right to demand a variety of priestly gifts enabled them to promote their economic interests. In addition, they had legitimacy to perform their exclusive priestly functions outside the Temple, as judges, teachers of the Mosaic law, and those who deliver the blessing and receive honor at the synagogue, purify the leper, etc. 298

Summary and conclusions

(ii) The fact that the Tannaitic Sages consciously sought to blur the traces of the Priests as a collective group who had political power and influence in their own society, further supports the assumption that the Priests continued to retain the responsibility for communal affairs in Jewish society.

3. Mapping the identity of the ‘Am ha’aretz The investigation has demonstrated that ‘Am ha’aretz was neither a social group nor a class, but a social category that was negatively stereotyped by the Sages. ‘Am ha’aretz was a virtual identity created by the Sages to stigmatize Jews both in the priestly group and among the general Jewish public. Priests identified as ‘Am ha’aretz The evidence found in the Tannaitic corpora indicates that a “Priest who is ‘Am ha’aretz,” was used in derogatory manner to stigmatize certain Priests whose behavior was conceived as degraded. It has been suggested that the above attitude was part of the general policy of the Sages to undermine the superior position of the Priests in Jewish society. The resistance of the Sages is expressed in their attempt to re-define the Priests who belonged to the dominant group as “inferior others.” In other words, by transforming his actual social identity to a virtual identity, they severely damaged the Priest’s reputation, portraying him as a dangerous, ritually impure person who was to be shunned. Jews identified as ‘Am ha’aretz ‘Am ha’aretz refers to a member within Jewish society who kept the Mosaic law, but not to the standard and to the extent that the Sages did. The characteristics attributed to ‘Am ha’aretz were often negatively stereotyped; he lacks the values that are highly cherished by the group of the Sages, such as the meticulous observance of ritual purity and impurity and of separating tithes. Moreover, the category ‘Am ha’aretz conceals his or her actual identity, i.e. ‘Am ha’aretz could come from different socio-economic backgrounds, have different professions, etc.

4. Triangular system of relationships The issue of social relationships between Sages, Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz runs through this entire investigation. The dichotomic relationship described in present scholarly research has concealed the richness, complexity, and patterns of these relationships. 299

Summary and conclusions

These complex interactions can be plotted on three axes of a triangle: Axis one: Interdependency between Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz The Priestly ideology regarding holiness and ritual purity has led scholars to portray them as a separatist elite group detached from public affairs and the essential needs of the common people. The present examination reveals a rather ambivalent attitude towards the common people: Attitude of separatism and contempt The Priests advocated an attitude of separatism. They were subject to special obligations and restrictions; holiness was expressed with respect to family attribution, marriage prohibitions, and the observance of various rules regarding ritual purity and impurity. I suggest that they probably had their informal and exclusive gatherings in various social spheres, i.e. the members of the group visited one another, had communal meals, participated in various social and private gatherings, such as weddings, funerals, etc. In this way, they were demarcating their legitimacy as a superior group in Jewish society which might have led them to be contemptuous of those who were inferior to them. Cooperation Cooperation can be seen in two spheres: Socio-religious sphere: My examination reveals that the interdependency between the Priests and the common people is deduced from several facts: (i) Although the Priests lived in priestly settlements, they included nonpriestly families. Living in close proximity most certainly entailed joint social activities, domestic cooperation, and neighborly relationships. (ii) The Priests had non-priestly professions, e.g. agriculture, cattle breeding different types of craftsmanship, and commerce. Being engaged in such professions most certainly entailed at least a limited interaction with the common people engaged in similar professions. (iii) I showed an interdependency between the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz based on cultic obligation, e.g. it was a widespread phenomenon among the Priests to perform a service for the farmer when visiting the threshing floor; in return for this service he would be chosen as recipient of the farmer’s priestly gifts. (iv) Interdependency may also be seen in the Priests performance of their traditional priestly professions and duties outside the Temple, e.g. as judges, teachers of the Mosaic law, purifying the lepers, and blessing the community in the synagogue. Socio-political sphere: During the Jewish wars, the involvement and influence of the Priests in the socio-political sphere was quite prominent. 300

Summary and conclusions

All the above leads to the conclusion that describing the relationship between the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz only in terms of separatism and contempt is not a full portrayal since this relationship also has certain aspects of mutual respect and friendship. Axis two — Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz The consensus among Talmudic scholars that there was animosity between the Sages and ‘Am ha’aretz, is to be found only in the Babylonian Talmudic literature, not in the Jerusalem Talmudic literature; in Tannaitic literature in fact, we even find a limited interdependency between them. The examination reveals a rather ambivalent attitude of the Sages towards the common people. On the one hand, an attitude of separatism and arrogance, on the other hand, a limited cooperation between them. Attitude of separatism and contempt The attitude of contempt towards ‘Am ha’aretz may reflect the internalization of the priestly hegemonic discourse towards their inferiors, i.e. the general public. I demonstrated how the Sages replicate the existing discourse and praxis of ritual purity and impurity, legitimizing the contemporary social hierarchy among superiors, equals, and inferiors. By using the religious discourse of ritual purity and impurity, the Sages are able to justify the superior position of the Priests in the social hierarchy and at the same time to legitimate the religious and social praxis of excluding Jews known as ‘Am ha’aretz; the ruling that stipulates that a Pharisee with a seminal discharge and an ‘Am ha’aretz with a seminal discharge are not permitted to eat together, despite the fact that both are considered ritually impure, may reflect such an attitude. Cooperation Cooperation can be seen in two spheres: Socio-religious sphere: The examination reveals that despite the fact that interaction with ‘Am ha’aretz can be perceived as troublesome to the Haver and his ritual lifestyle, the Sages did not develop a policy of “separatism” towards ‘Am ha’aretz, but rather seem to have consciously developed various practical solutions to enable interaction, albeit restricted, with ‘Am ha’aretz. The nature of these interactions encompasses a wide spectrum of social life: business, professions, intermarriage, celebration, hosting and visiting each other, and living in close proximity, even in the same housing unit, etc. Socio-political sphere: The involvement of the Sages in public affairs contributed to a positive interdependence between the group and the general public, which in turn enhanced their political status. For instance, the meeting of the leaders that took place in the store of Pazzi (cf. chapter 3, pp. 205–207) reveals 301

Summary and conclusions

an ongoing interaction with the general Jewish public. The local leaders were used as mediators between the general Jewish public and the Sanhedrin. In this incident, we see that when stipulating a new enactment, the Sanhedrin took into consideration the local custom of the Jewish inhabitants and their socioeconomic situation. Axis three — Sages and Priests Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of a counter-hegemony? Unlike previous scholarly examination, which describes the relationship between the Priests and the Sages as a struggle between two elites, in which the Sages gained the upper hand, eventually resulting in an exchange of elites, a paradigm shift is offered that reveals a more complex and multi-dimensional interaction. It has been repeatedly deduced that in the process of constituting a counterhegemony, the attitude of the Sages towards the Priests entails ambivalent psychological mechanisms, such as attraction-rejection, imitation-denial, cooperation-resistance. Four modes of strategic behaviors were observed: (i) Cooperation: It has been noted that there were times when the Sages cooperated with the priestly discourse and praxis, e.g. the Sages legitimized the superior position of the Priests in Jewish society, the practice of endogamy, genealogical attribution, group separatism, ritual purity and impurity, and the right to receive priestly gifts. Moreover, social conventions were further legitimized by the Sages, e.g. the Sages used the time of eating heave-offering by the Priests as an indication of the proper time for the recital of Shema. Moreover, gestures of honor which gave precedence to the Priests in various rites were further maintained by the Sages as a social convention. (ii) Open confrontation: There were other instances of the Sages deliberately using the discourse of open rebellion in order to change the power structure of their own society; they fought on several symbolic frontlines, offering an alternative discourse to the priestly hegemonic discourse, i.e. they challenged the exclusive role of the Priests; they altered the national narrative for their own benefit so that they could make claims of structural superiority on the new social map and influence future policies. (iii) Hidden confrontation: On other occasions, the Sages used the discourse of hidden rebellion. By operating within the traditional religious structure, they were able to dig beneath the foundation of the hegemonic discourse and uncover its modes and justification. For instance, it has been deduced from Sifre Deuteronomy 153, that the Sages officially recognized the judicial status of the Priests; however, at the same time they subtly undermined it. In other places we find the Sages camouflaging the identity of certain Priests as ‘Am ha’aretz. 302

Summary and conclusions

(iv) Imitation: There are numerous examples of the Sages replicating the hegemonic discourse and praxis. It has been noted that while the group of the Sages professed a new social order based on intellectual achievement, they nevertheless, based the new social order on the old hegemonic priestly discourse and praxis, such as the practice of group nepotism, endogamy, ritual purity and impurity, protected knowledge, and other mechanisms of power used by the group of the Priests. In reality, this meant that Torah study could not be freely accessed by anyone with a talent for it, but to a great extent was limited to those who came from Torah-educated families who had social and religious privileges. The dialectic between imitation and resistance Moreover, the examination has revealed that attitudes of resistance and imitation are not mutually exclusive, but may be shared and nourished by one another. Thus, cooperation with the priestly discourse can easily turn into resistance. On the other hand, the strongest resistance can be transformed into an “effective cooperation” with the priestly discourse and praxis. For example, the Sages’ imitation of the priestly functions in certain areas, such as ritual purity and impurity, can easily be turned into resistance, in the sense that they not only imitate the Priests but surpass them, and thus render the Priests dispensable. On the other hand, the idea that the act of resistance can turn into cooperation with the existing hegemony may be reflected in the fact that even in the presumed new social order that was established, the Tannaitic Sages mirror the hegemonic discourse and praxis. The examination has revealed that even in the process of resistance and disengagement from the priestly hegemony, the Sages cannot free themselves from the bondage of the priestly discourse and praxis. On a final note, the most rewarding insight, I gained through this mapping is the realization that it is impossible to grasp the identity of the Sages without mapping the social identity of the Priests and ‘Am ha’aretz. Only by examining the social identity of the Priests was it possible to reach a proper understanding of the Sages’ modes of imitation and resistance, their group distinctiveness, their ideology, their political motives for social reform, their politics of historical construction, and even their ambivalent relationship to ‘Am ha’aretz. Furthermore, the examination of the social identity ‘Am ha’aretz enabled me to better understand the power relationship between the Priests and the Sages as a struggle between elites, and to understand the important role that ‘Am ha’aretz played in the process of negotiated social order.

303

CHAPTER SIX

AFTERWORD

In this monograph I followed the group of the Tannaitic Sages as they gradually developed their status as a ruling elite group in Jewish society. I deciphered and revealed the varied social and psychological mechanisms that enabled them to justify and fortify their claim to a superior position in the newly perceived social structure. What is truly fascinating is that their efforts were crowned with success beyond all imagining: They could not grasp the magnitude of what they did, nor that they would eventually be recognized as the ultimate architects of Judaism, who outlined its culture, philosophy, and religion, penetrating the width, breadth, and depth of Judaism, traversing through time and space. For example, ritual ceremonies, such as daily prayer, circumcision, marriage, divorce, mourning, the Jewish calendar and holidays, monetary law, tort law, dietary laws, laws regarding the intimate relationship between husband and wife, the system of charity, issues of gender hierarchy and inequality — all were moulded by the Sages. Indeed they erected the walls and towers of the Jewish Empire that prevailed for nearly two millennia, thus falsifying Pareto’s punch line that “history is a graveyard of aristocracies.”

304

Exchange of ruling elites or the constitution of counter-hegemony?

GLOSSARY OF HEBREW TERMS

Amoraim — lit. speakers, translators. The Amoraim produced both Talmudim and other Amoraitic works during the third and fourth centuries. Bikkurim — the first ripening fruits of any of the seven species (wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives, and dates) that had to be brought to the Temple and given to the Priests. Hallah — a portion removed from a dough of the five grains and given to the Priest. The dough is forbidden for consumption until the Hallah has been separated from it. Halakhot — (s. halakhah) a Hebrew term denoting Jewish legal rules and directives. Miqve — ritual bath; a body of standing water containing at least forty seah. A ritual bath consists of waters naturally collected, without direct human intervention. It is used to purify (by immersion) people and utensils of their ritual impurity. Peah — the portion of a crop, generally the corner of a field, which must be left unharvested as a gift to the poor. Sea(h) — a measure of volume (approximately 7 liters) for dry objects and for liquids. Sheqel — a coin of specific silver weight. Every individual was required to pay half a Sheqel annually to cover Temple expenses. Shelamin — peace offering; generally brought by an individual on a voluntary basis; part is burnt on the altar, part is eaten by the Priests (and members of his household), and part is eaten by the owner. Simchat beit ha sho’eva — a festive celebration that took place in the Temple at the end of the first day of the holiday of Sukkot. Sukkah — a booth specifically constructed for religious performance during Sukkot. Tamid — the daily sacrifice offered during the time of the Temple — one sheep in the morning and one sheep towards evening. Tannaim — lit. repeaters or teachers; the rabbis of the second century who produced the Mishnah and other Tannaitic works. 305

Glossary of Hebrew terms

Tephillin — phylacteries; two black leather casings, each of which contains Torah passages written on parchment. These are worn by male Jews on a daily basis (excluding Shabbat and Holidays). Tvol Yom — a term denoting the purity status of an unclean person who has bathed in the miqve, but upon whom the sun has not yet set. Usha Period — after the persecution that occurred after the Bar-Kokhba Revolt (132–135 AD), the remaining Sages moved to Galilee and reestablished the Sanhedrin (until the Bar-Kokhba Revolt, the Sanhedrin was located in Jabneh) in Usha, a town in Lower Galilee. Urim and Tummim — (lit. lights and perfection) was used to discover the will of God. The appropriate letters on the twelve-stoned breastplate (hoshen) worn by the High Priest, would light up in response to a question posed, thus answering the question. Zav — a man who is considered ritually impure because of a specific type of seminal emission. Tzitzit — string fringes attached to four-corner garments worn by males. Zuz — (i) monetary unit equal to a dinar; (ii) a coin of that value.

306

TRANSLATION OF PRIMARY SOURCES

The Old and New Testament, Revised Standard Version, New York, 1952. Philo: On the Special Laws (De Specialibus Legibus) VII, translated by F. H. Colson, in LCL, vol. VII, London, 1950. Josephus: The Life and Against Apion, translated by H. J. Thackeray, in LCL, vol. I, London, 1966. Josephus: The Jewish War I–III, translated by E. W. Warmington, in LCL, vol. II, London, 1967. Josephus: The Jewish War IV–VII, translated by H. J. Thackeray, in LCL, vol. III, London, 1961. Josephus: Jewish Antiquities XII–XIV, translated by R. Marcus, in LCL, vol. VII, London, 1957. Josephus: Jewish Antiquities XV–XVII, translated by R. Marcus, in LCL, vol. VIII, London, 1963. Josephus: Jewish Antiquities XVIII–XX, translated by L. Feldman, in LCL, vol. IX, London, 1965.

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325

Index of References

INDEX OF REFERENCES

Bible Genesis 1, 189 8.19, 287 Exodus 28.40, 39 Leviticus 2.1–15, 120 13, 55 14, 55 15.4–10, 268 18.6–20, 281 21.7, 71 22.7, 48 25.32–34, 83 Numbers 5.11–31, 55n39 6.22–26, 53 10.8, 53n34 15.17–21, 49 15.33, 137n27 18.11, 47 18.31, 47 27.2, 130, 137n27 27.21, 55 31.6, 53n34 35.1–8, 83 Deuteronomy 1.16, 212 10.8, 53 326

17.12, 135 17.9, 57n40, 137 18.1–7, 47n25 18.4, 47 21.5, 55 23.1, 281 23.3, 281 24.8, 55 26.1–11, 264n5 31.25, 53 31.9, 53 Joshua 17.4, 137n27 I Samuel 4.11, 53 4.4, 53 II Kings 4.42, 263 12.2, 131 17.27–28, 137n27 I Chronicles 24–26, 59 24.1–18, 43 24.1–19, 59n41 II Chronicles 17.7–9, 137n27 19.8–11, 137n27 31.15, 80 31.4, 263 32.33, 146

Index of References

Ezra 2.59–62, 274n6 2.62–63, 55 7.10, 57, 137 7.1–5, 137 7.26, 57, 137 9.1–2, 25 44.23, 55 Nehemiah 7.61–64, 274n6 7.65, 55 10.28, 25 12.35, 53n34 13.23–25, 25 13.28, 25 13.4–9, 25 Jeremiah 18.18, 57, 137 Ezekiel 1, 189 Malachi 2.1–9, 137n27 2.7, 57 Apocrypha I Maccabees 2.1, 43 2.15–18, 43 II Maccabees 4.12–15, 28 Ben Sirach 45.17, 57, 137 Pseudepigrapha Aristeas 121–128, 57, 137 New Testament Matthew 4.18–22, 185 8.19–23, 185 9.9, 185

15.1–20, 109 23.5, 107 23.6–7, 107 23.7, 107 Mark 1.16–20, 185 7, 109 7.4, 109 14.43, 96 14.53, 96 Luke 1.5, 60 2.28, 185 5, 185 11.38, 108 11.42, 108 11.46, 107 19.47, 96 20.45, 107 John 1.37–43, 185 3.22, 185 14.6, 112n15 18.13, 74 Acts 5.1, 67 5.34, 96, 106 22.3, 188 23.8, 105, 109 Galatians 1.14, 108 Philippians 3.5–6, 108 Mishnah Abodah Zarah 1.7, 149 2.5, 182 3.4, 218 Abot 1.1, 57, 128–131 1.2, 128, 132 327

Index of References

1.3, 35n12, 128 1.4, 128 1.6, 128, 225n1 1.8, 128 1.10, 128 1.12, 128 1.13, 156 2.5, 190 2.6, 156 2.8, 119, 129, 169 2.8–9, 190 3.2, 96 6.5, 143 6.5–6, 160 Arachin 2.4, 75 Baba Batra 4.6, 152n35 9.4, 165 Baba Mesia 5.8, 116 Berakhot 1.1, 48 2.5–7, 116 2.7, 169 Besah 2.3, 265 Bikkurim 2.1, 48, 260n4 3.3, 66 Demai 2.3, 186, 226, 229, 231, 240, 268 3.1, 116 6.8, 247 6.9, 247 Eduyyot 2.4, 177 7.7, 217 8.2, 72, 76, 119 8.7, 129 Erubin 1.2, 148 328

4.1, 216 4.4, 182 6.2, 104 Gittin 1.5, 218 2.5, 258 5.8, 284 Hagigah 2.1, 190 2.2, 132 2.7, 31, 46, 267, 270 Hallah 1.9, 48, 260n4 Horayot 1.4, 278 3.8, 31, 118, 240, 276 Kelim 5.4, 177 10.1, 265 22.10, 152n35 Ketubot 1.10, 276 1.5, 76 2.9, 69, 72, 76, 119 4.6, 177 4.7–12, 156 4.8, 72 13.1, 31 Kilayim 6.4, 148, 164 Maaser Sheni 5.9, 216 Megillah 2.4, 258 4.2, 278 Menahot 8.2, 65 8.7, 65 9.6–7, 178n47 10.6, 211 Middot 5.4, 70

Index of References

Moed Qatan 3.7, 144 Nazir 7.4, 190 Negaim 3.1, 55, 258, 279n12, 280 5.4, 55 8.10, 56 Niddah 9.3, 152n35 Ohalot 17.5, 31 18.6, 206 Parah 3.11, 56 3.2, 265 4.1, 69 5.4, 258 7.6, 178 7.7, 218 12.10, 56, 258 Peah 1.1, 159 2.6, 129, 132 8.7, 215 Pesahim 4.4, 183 Qiddushin 4.1, 71, 117, 258, 273, 279, 281, 286 4.2, 274nn4–5 4.4–5, 71 4.5, 79, 276 4.6, 71, 275 Rosh Hashanah 2.8, 177n45, 195 2.9, 195 Sanhedrin 1.3, 99 4.2, 79, 276 4.3, 180 4.4, 180 10.1, 110

11.2, 135 11.4, 177 Shabbat 1.4, 208, 209 Sheqalim 1.3, 273n1, 279n11 2.1, 66 4.4, 124 5.1, 60, 64 5.2, 66 5.3, 60 5.3–5, 66 5.4–5, 60 6.6, 131 Sotah 7.7, 68 9.14, 157 9.15, 124, 172 Sukkah 2.1, 177n45 2.7, 187 5.4, 54 5.4–5, 54 Taanit 2.5, 54, 55 4.1, 52 4.5, 287 Tamid 1.1, 40 1.2, 65 1.4, 62 3.1, 65 5.2, 63, 63n45, 65 6.3, 65 7.2, 52, 54 7.3, 54, 67 Terumah 8.1, 267n11 Terumot 9.2, 23, 31 9.3, 23, 31 11.10, 183 329

Index of References

Tohorot 2.6, 46 7.2, 249 7.4, 249 8.1, 248 8.5, 248 Yadayim 4.3, 129 Yebamot 4.13, 282 6.4, 74, 124 8.3, 281 12.6, 182 Yoma 1.5, 135 2.3, 62 3.11, 85, 89 3.7, 39 3.9, 67 4.1, 67 7.1, 62 Zabim 2.4, 268 Babylonian Talmud Arakhin 3a, 56 Baba Mesia 59b, 169 84b, 169n39 Baba Qamma 17a, 144 74b, 194 83a, 157 117a, 187 Bekhorot 26b, 51 30b, 48, 227 Berakhot 3a, 188 5b, 187, 190 10b, 263 330

16b, 124 27a-b, 188 27b–28a, 196 28b, 168, 187 43b, 143 47b, 239n16 57b, 124 62a, 188, 191 Erubin 54b, 148 Gittin 59b, 284 61a, 239n16 Hagigah 12a, 182 14b, 188, 189 Horayot 13b, 291 Ketubot 8b, 190 26a, 48 62b–63a, 116 77b, 166 96a, 186 105b, 263 Menahot 93a-b, 178n47 99b, 239n16 Nedarim 40a, 190 49a, 239n16 49b, 187 62a, 124 Pesahim 49a+b, 242, 243 109a, 39 113b, 214 Qiddushin 31b, 188 32b, 150 32b–33a, 188 40b, 208, 208n57

Index of References

49b, 124, 187 78b, 48 81a, 166 Rosh Hashanah 25b, 195 Sanhedrin 5b, 188 11a, 210 17b, 187 68a, 124 74a, 208 87a, 135 101a, 187 109b, 188 Shabbat 13a, 269, 269n13 13b–17b, 208, 209 15a, 132, 133 30b, 188 40b, 187 41a, 187 114a, 143 127b, 116 Sotah 21b–22a, 239n16 38b, 82 49b, 157 Sukkah 27b, 187 42a, 51 56b, 60 Taanit 27a, 80n55 Yoma 23b, 40 26a, 99 39a, 67 85a, 182 Jerusalem Talmud Abodah Zarah 3.13, 43b, 186 3.4, 42d, 153

Baba Batra 8.1, 16a, 50 Berakhot 2.3, 4c, 187 2.6, 5b, 166 2.7, 5b, 152 2.8, 5b, 190 3.1, 6a, 190 4.1, 7c-d, 196 5.4, 9c, 286 5.4, 9d, 51, 82, 284 6.5, 10c, 153 8.5, 12b, 187 Besah 1.6, 60c, 152 Bikkurim 1.5, 64a, 48 Demai 2.3, 23a, 227 3.2, 23b, 186 22d–23a, 230 Gittin 5.9, 46b, 284 5.9, 47b, 82 Hagigah 1.8, 76d, 190 2.1, 73a, 189 2.1, 77b, 187 2.1, 77b-c, 187 3.1, 78d, 186 Kilayim 9.4, 32b, 287 Maaser Sheni 4.6, 55c, 245 5.2, 56b, 261, 263 Maaserot 3.5, 50d, 143 Nazir 7.1, 56a, 190 7.1, 56b, 186 Peah 8.1, 20d, 116 331

Index of References

8.4, 21a, 214 8.9, 21b, 152 Qiddushin 3.12, 64c, 282 Sanhedrin 1.2, 19a, 179 1.3, 18a, 210 2.5, 20c-d, 163 11, 30a, 135 Shabbat 1.2, 3a, 152, 186 1.3, 3b, 264 1.3, 3c, 269, 269n13 1.4, 3c-d, 208, 209 3.3, 6a, 153 4.3, 7a, 187 4.3, 30c, 80n55 7.2, 10a-b, 187 10.5, 12c, 186, 285 Shebiit 6.1, 36c, 206 6.1, 36d, 199 9.9, 39a, 187 Sheqalim 2.7, 47a, 186 5.1, 48d, 90 5.1, 49a, 60, 89 5.2, 49a, 62, 67 Sotah 2.2, 18a, 187 Sukkah 2.4, 53a, 166 5.8, 287 Taanit 1.6, 64d, 287 4.2, 68a, 82 4.4, 67d, 80n55 4.5, 69a, 74 Terumot 2.1, 41b, 152 8.10, 46c, 152 Yebamot 12.7, 13a, 190 332

Yoma 1.1, 38d, 75 3.8, 41a, 68 Tosefta Abodah Zarah 2.5–7, 149 3.10, 75, 169, 239 3.8, 248 3.9, 248 4.4, 214 4.8, 152 Baba Batra 1.11–12, 152n35 2.2, 175 10.10, 165 10.4, 292 10.9, 165 Baba Mesia 9.12–13, 156 9.9, 156 11.23, 215 Berakhot 1.2, 182, 188, 213 1.6, 142 2.20, 152n35 2.6, 213 4.14–16, 182 4.15, 177n45, 197, 205, 218 4.16, 182 4.18, 175 5.28–29, 186 5.29, 143 5.4, 273n1, 279n11 6.25, 110 Besah 2.12, 205 3.8, 69 4.10, 149 4.4, 40 Demai 1.29, 152 2.11–12, 226, 227

Index of References

2.13, 230 2.14, 231 2.15, 247 2.15–16, 118 2.16, 250 2.18, 248 2.19, 248 2.2, 32, 226, 240, 261 3.5, 247n21, 248 3.6, 250 3.7, 250 3.8, 231, 248 4.28, 31, 240 5.20, 46, 50 5.24, 218 8.11, 260n4 Eduyyot 3.1, 31, 46 1.1, 182 Erubin 1.2, 164 6.2, 164 6.4, 164, 184 8.17, 182 9.4, 187 Hagigah 2.1, 182, 188, 190 2.8, 132 2.9, 70, 136, 177n46 3.33, 124, 270 Hallah 1.10, 96n66 2.7–9, 46 Horayot 2.10, 62, 66, 240, 276 2.5–6, 217 Hullin 3.10, 178, 218 Kelim 1.7, 68 Ketubot 1.2, 76

3.1, 49–51, 260 4.5, 49 Kilayim 1.3–4, 177 Maaser Sheni 3.12, 260 5.16, 124 Maaserot 2.1, 148, 164 Makhshirin 3.10–11, 152 Megillah 2.12, 215 2.15, 215 2.7, 273n1, 279n11 3.11, 278, 284 3.5, 181 Menahot 6.11, 40 13.21, 66, 78 Miqvaot 6.3, 218 7.11, 175 Negaim 1.2, 56 8.1, 258, 279n12 8.2, 56, 187 Niddah 4.3–4, 177 Ohalot 18.18, 206 Parah 3.14, 56 5.6, 56 7.4, 178, 218 10.2, 56 10.3, 188 12.6, 56 12.8, 56 Peah 4.11, 287 4.3, 49, 51 333

Index of References

4.4, 50 4.5, 49, 261 4.9, 215 Pesahim 2.15, 177n45, 218 3.11, 183 10.12, 218 Qiddushin 5.3, 71, 75, 275 Rosh Hashanah 1.18, 214 2.11, 177 2.5, 273n1, 279, 279n11 Sanhedrin 2.13, 215 4.1, 67 7.1, 70, 135, 177 7.8–9, 291 8.1, 177n45, 180 8.2, 180 13.3, 110 Shabbat 1.14, 264 1.15, 269 1.16–22, 208, 209 2.5, 208 3.4, 151 5.3, 182 6.1, 157 8.24–28, 226n2 13.14, 216 13.2, 164 13.2, 218 Sheqalim 2.14, 64 2.15, 65, 66 2.8, 215 Sotah 3.18, 110 7.15, 54 7.8, 51 13.3, 208 15.8, 157, 158 334

Sukkah 2.1, 187 2.2, 164 Taanit 1.13, 55 2.1, 59n41 2.1–2, 60 2.2, 65 Terumah 2.13, 218 Terumot 2.13, 218 4.12, 260 6.4, 46 10.18, 47 Tohorot 8.2, 249 8.3, 249 9.11, 248 Yoma 1.4, 67 1.6, 66, 69, 83 2.5, 89, 90 2.6, 89 2.7, 89, 90 2.8, 85 Midrash Abot de Rabbi Natan ARN/A 5, 105n4, 106, 109 ARN/A 6, 116, 118 ARN/A 25, 167, 168, 184 ARN/A 14, 168, 187 ARN/A 3, 183, 214, 288 ARN/A 4.5, 188, 222 ARN/A 41, 231, 240, 261 ARN/A 26, 240, 271 Sifra Acharei Mot Parashah 13.9, 149, 157 Metsorah Parashah 1.13, 56

Index of References

Qedoshim Parashah 7.11, 176 Tazriah Parashah 1.5, 55 Sifre Deuteronomy 1, 177n45 16, 212 17, 176 32, 175, 187, 191 38, 150, 175, 205 41, 175, 205, 208 43, 216 152–155, 135 153, 57, 136, 284, 302 306, 214

343, 142 346, 175 357, 116 Numbers 43, 54 75, 54, 75 115, 208 116, 47 119, 58, 161 121, 262 133, 130, 131 Zav Parashah 11.16, 53 Tannaim 33.4, 118, 287, 292

335

Index of Concepts

INDEX OF CONCEPTS

Achievement 61, 68 Academic Achievement 7 Intellectual Achievement 117, 176, 263, 297, 303 Personal (Individual) Achievement 68, 118, 273, 276, 277, 288, 289 Student’s Achievement 190 Agency Agents 87, 135, 164, 192 Professional Agents 95 Significant Agents 200 Social Agents 15, 200 System of Agents 94 Assimilation Assimilation (Acculturation) 9, 11, 26, 27, 28, 251 Assimilate Foreign Elements 25, 37 Body Bodily Control 294 Bodily Discipline 144, 294 Bodily Expressions 143, 144, 153 Bodily Restrictions 153 Body of Symbols 283 Capital Cultural Capital 15, 192, 277, 288– 290, 292 Consciousness Raiser 190 Habitus 8, 192 Economic Capital 14, 15, 248 336

Informal Capital 15 Social Capital 15, 192 Symbolic Capital 15, 96 Caste Caste System 15, 77, 78 Caste-like Traits 78 Commensal Contact 77 Inferior Caste 77 Rules of Commensality 77 Superior Caste 77, 78 Category Shifters 34 Linguistic Competence 192, 289 Linguistic Mechanisms 255 Linguistic Shifters and Non-linguistic Shifters 34–37, 40 Non-referential Functions of Speech Acts 34, 37 Pragmatic Markers of Categories 34 Purpositive Privacy Function of Speech 34, 37, 85, 156 Shifting Context 34, 40 Class Class Differentiation 180 Class Division 14, 234 Class of Aristocrats 11 Class of Farmers 11 Class Society 11, 14 Common (Ordinary) People 3, 39, 41–43, 58, 86, 117, 221, 223, 234, 300, 301

Index of Concepts

Feudal System — Patron-Client Relationships 13, 14 General (Jewish) Public 147, 207, 223, 232, 240, 241, 299, 302 Labor of Working Force 14 Lower (Social) Classes 6, 7, 11, 12, 220, 234, 235, 246 Marx’s Theory of Class 14 Material Criteria 14 Members of the Proletariat Forces 14 Ownership of Land 13, 14, 23 Privileged Classes 289 Ruled Class 92 Ruling Class 12, 14, 92, 93, 113, 220– 223 Ruling Ideas 14, 92 Ruling Intellectual Force 92 Ruling Intellectual Forces 14, 92 Ruling Material Forces 14, 92 Silent Public 237 The (Broad) Masses 6, 35, 94, 101, 199, 219–221, 232, 234 Upper-class 7, 28, 35, 38, 39, 70, 95, 154, 233, 234 Western Class-based Society 78 Working Class 93, 290 Codes Codes of Behavior (Conduct) 143, 144, 151, 153, 162, 166, 169, 188, 191, 286, 289 Codes of Ethics and Norms 162 Dress Code 8, 10, 34, 38–41 Social Codes 190 Colonialism and Counter-Hegemony Colonized 253–255, 269 Colonizer 253–255 Cooperation With (the Hegemonic Discourse) 255, 259, 269, 303 Counter-collective Memory (Countermemory) 138, 139, 257 Counter-hegemony 3, 10, 26, 97, 125, 138, 161, 200, 250, 252, 255, 272, 302

Cultural Hegemony 3, 22, 86, 90–93, 99, 125, 126, 138, 139, 161, 220, 251, 252, 254, 255, 257, 262, 298 History of Change 252 History of Consciousness 252 New Hegemony, New Hegemonic Order 10, 11, 251, 252 Open and Hidden Transcripts 251, 255, 259 Phenomenon (Paradigm) of Mimicry 251–255, 262, 266 Political Empowerment 9 Political Resistance 44, 255, 260, 261 Politics of Constructing a Collective Past 126 Politics of the Text 136 Postcolonial Theory 9, 268 Post-colonialism 139, 251–253, 255 Subaltern Group 139, 254 Subversion 162, 168, 259, 263 Textual Transformation 131, 136 The Dialect Between the Master and the Slave 253 Communication Communal Relationships 203, 296 Formal and Informal Communication 69 Informal (Private and Exclusive) Gathering 84, 164, 202, 204, 205, 296, 297, 300 Conflict Conflict Resolution 193 Hidden Confrontation 302 Open Conformation 302 Struggle for Power 219, 222 Struggle of Self-definition 197 Two Conflicting Systems of Social Stratification 276 Culture Cultural Attributes 13, 32 Cultural Boundary 8, 33, 121, 122 Cultural Category 237, 238 Cultural Competence 289 337

Index of Concepts

Cultural Continuity 127 Cultural Cooperation 129 Cultural Inheritance 289 Cultural Institutions 91, 96, 99 Cultural Milieu 147 Cultural Privileges 123 Cultural Setting, 144, 157, 294 Cultural Symbols 13, 34, 37, 41, 123, 142, 237 Cultural Traits 12, 13, 26, 142, 237, 238 Cultural Values 14, 192, 290 Culturally Specific Set of Values 33 Culture Category 237, 238 Culture of Drinking 149 Dominant Culture 28, 125, 257 Foreign Culture (traits) 25, 26, 98, 129 Structured and Unstructured Culture 144 Dimensions Multi Dimensional Space 14, 302 One Dimensional Space 14 Two-Dimensional Man 283 Discourse Daily Discourse 238 Discourse 255, 256, 259 Discourse and Praxis 3, 9, 11, 26, 251, 255, 256, 258, 262–264, 267–269, 277, 286, 301–303 Discursive Elements 94 Political discourse 255 Public discourse 255, 256, 259 Tacit Discourse 261 Technique of Discourse 85, 157 The discourse of hidden offstage 256, 261 The discourse of open rebellion 256, 257, 262, 302 The discourse of the trickster tale 256, 260 Theory on Discourse 8 338

Discrimination 123, 238 Domination and the Arts of Resistance 255 Elite Competing Elite Groups 8, 198, 200 Counter-elite Group 97, 219, 220 Elite culture199, 202 Elite Formation 3 Elite Groups (Coalition of) 3, 41, 84, 88, 92, 93, 95, 97, 99, 101, 113, 117, 126, 136, 145, 146, 192, 198, 199, 200–205, 207, 212, 219, 221–223, 235, 294–297, 300, 304 Elite Status 222 Exchange of Elites 3, 5, 19, 302 Governing Elite 113, 219 Particular and Universal Culture 9, 88, 202, 295, 297 Particular Culture 83, 87, 202, 203, 295 Privileged Minority 68, 117 Ruling Group 6, 22, 91, 93, 96, 97, 135, 199, 220, 233, 255, 256, 265, 294, 295, 297, 298 Second Stratum (also Transmitters) 221, 223 Separatist Elite Group 41, 300 Struggle between Two Elites 3, 5, 302 Universal Culture 202, 212, 296 Upper Stratum 23, 39, 124, 175, 234 Endogamy Endogamic Group 77 Intermarriage 25, 26, 29, 75, 76, 169, 204, 242, 249, 296, 301 Prohibition of Intermarriage with Foreigners 25, 26 The Practice of Endogamy 29, 40, 59, 73–75, 78–81, 84, 92, 97, 204, 277, 289, 298, 302, 303 Frankfurt School 94

Index of Concepts

Genealogy Family Attribution 138, 217, 275–277, 286–289, 292, 297, 298, 300 Genealogical Attribution 7, 31, 69, 70, 257, 273–277, 279, 281–287, 293, 302 Genealogical Link 132 Group Genealogy 136 Rules of Genealogical Attribution 69 System of Genealogy 26 Group Closed Group 22, 73, 88, 92, 117 Collective group 21, 299 Constructing Group History 10 Contemporary and Competing Group 107 Counter Groups 228 Distinct Group 5, 12, 27, 107, 108 Dominant Groups 11, 22, 86, 90, 92– 96, 113, 114, 122–124, 138, 139, 162, 192, 251, 252, 255, 256, 259, 262, 269, 271, 290, 299 Group Affinity 146 Group Categorization 33 Group Cohesion 20, 298 Group Cooperation and integration 177 Group Distinctiveness 155, 295, 298, 303 Group Formation 16, 21, 24 Group Identification 141 Group Interaction 16, 102, 103, 161 Group Members (also: In-group members; members of the group) 10, 12, 13, 23, 27, 31, 41, 69, 73, 78, 79, 84, 115, 116, 118, 121, 122, 124, 128, 138, 142–146, 148, 150, 151, 153, 158, 163, 164, 166–169, 173, 186, 192, 203–205, 207, 209, 237, 290, 292, 300 Group Membership (membership) 15, 117, 118, 121, 122, 123 Group mobility 122

Group Solidarity 167, 168 Group Superiority 22, 161 Group’s Exclusion 269 Homogeneous Group 22, 115 Inferior Group 123 In-group Conflict 115, 125, 193 In-group Cooperation 163 In-group Interaction 193 Integrated Group 195 Interdependency of the Group 163 Inter-group Interaction 118, 121 Inter-group Relations 11 Minority Group 9, 10, 27, 220 Open Group 22, 117, 118 Opponent Group (Opposing, Opposite, Oppositional) 30, 32, 35, 106, 119, 121, 123, 138, 139, 195, 162, 251, 252 Out-group Male Members 22 Out-group Members 21, 73, 90, 105 Primordial Group 27, 158 Privileged Group 13, 19, 30, 39, 73, 85, 95, 101, 114, 130, 136, 203, 204, 207, 211–213, 218–220, 222, 277, 289, 290, 296 Relevant Comparison Group 161 Representative Group 206 Silent Group 21 Social Group 5, 8, 11–13, 19, 21, 22, 31–33, 35, 38, 40, 48, 77, 80, 81, 83, 84, 107, 120, 121, 123, 127, 141, 142, 156, 159, 161, 163, 170, 202, 227, 232, 236, 237, 251, 265, 274, 277, 283, 290, 291, 299 Sub-Group 105, 275 Superior Group 32, 73, 90, 95, 121– 123, 136, 145, 276, 284, 286, 294, 296, 300 Unified Group 127 Hegemony Canonical Narrative 129 Collective Memory 94, 127, 128, 139 339

Index of Concepts

Compositional Coalition 93 Consensus of Ideology 93 Forms of Ideological Control 93 Hegemonic Discourse and Praxis 9, 11, 26, 255, 256, 258, 262, 263, 267, 269, 277, 286, 303 Hegemonic Narrative 10, 126, 130, 136, 254, 257 Historical Bloc 93, 95, 97 Historiographic Narrative 42 Ideological Hegemony 24, 26, 92, 93, 95–97, 99, 200, 252, 263, 298 Ideological Tools 93 Ruling Ideology 92 Honor Ceremonial Honor 179, 295 Gestures of Honor 277, 284, 285, 302 Honor and Hierarchy 187, 189 Honorific Titles 170, 173, 280, 295

Negotiating Primordial Identities 8, 158, 298 Personal Identity 126, 141 Positive (Adequate) Social Identity 105, 122, 123, 161 Primary Identity 27 Primordial (Social) Identity 8, 9, 26, 27, 29, 30, 33, 154, 157, 158, 298 Project of Identity 10, 128 Social identity 3, 5, 6, 8, 18, 20–22, 24, 28, 30, 33–35, 37, 40, 42, 49, 53, 94, 100, 102–104, 105, 106, 120–123, 130, 136, 138, 140, 161, 162, 192– 194, 197, 200, 225, 232, 237–240, 246, 258, 270, 271, 299, 303 Social Identity Theory 8, 28, 104–106, 122, 123, 161 State Identity 27 Virtual Social Identity 237–239

Identity Actual social identity 238, 239, 240, 271, 299 Consciousness of Common Identity 12, 31, 237 Consciousness of Similarity 141, 143 Cultural Identity 8, 31, 141 Ethnic Identity 10, 27, 34 Group Identity 9, 10, 12, 16, 20, 31, 33, 37, 41, 59, 101, 105, 109, 126, 127, 143, 173, 192, 197, 205, 264, 265, 297 — Diacritical Features (Markers) 33, 38, 49, 51, 106, 107, 114, 141, 142, 142, 148, 157, 290, 295 — Value system 106, 141, 158, 201–203, 222, 295, 297 Identity Formation 141, 193 Identity Management 10, 126 Identity Transformation 136 Inadequate Social Identity 122 Multiple Identities 10, 298

Knowledge Body of Knowledge 87 Common Knowledge 86 Elite Knowledge 87 Everyday Knowledge 85, 86, 89 Formal Knowledge 86, 87 Knowledge and Power 86 Open Knowledge 88, 119 Organized Knowledge 86 Principle of Secrecy 87, 210 Professional Knowledge 88 Protected Knowledge 8, 37, 85–89, 207–209, 211, 251, 277, 278, 288, 296, 303 Secret Knowledge 86, 88 Specialized Knowledge 61, 63, 64, 85, 87, 88, 90, 210, 211, 291 Tacit Knowledge 88, 119, 207, 211

340

Master and Disciple Master and Disciple 188–191 Master-Disciple Relationships 17, 296

Index of Concepts

Nation Nation 46, 92, 96, 133, 134, 138, 146, 147, 156, 158, 174, 176, 208, 209, 216, 222, 295, 297, 298 National History 136, 140 National Affairs 295, 297 National Authority 177 National Crisis 44 National Freedom 43 National Leaders 44 National Narrative (historical) 138, 139, 295, 302 National Tragedy 44 Nepotism Group Nepotism 78, 79, 288, 289, 296, 303 Practice of Nepotism 66, 68, 88, 169, 277, 292, 293 Network Network of Cooperation 170, 176, 295 Network of Kinship 164, 169 Network of Reciprocal Help 164, 166, 296 Social Network 101, 148, 163, 296 Organization Communal Organization 204, 296 Formal Institutions 163, 176, 182, 208, 209, 297 Formal Organization 88 Hierarchical Order 22, 77, 145, 180, 216, 229, 267, 268, 274, 284, 286 Hierarchical Status 146, 147, 188 Hierarchy of Values 192 Informal gatherings 164, 202, 204, 205, 297 Inner Hierarchy 12, 21, 62, 145, 150, 173, 202, 274, 286 Organizational Mechanism 207, 220, 223 Organized Power 87, 90 Well-organized Closed Group 22

Politics Political Actions 43, 44 Political Affairs 24, 44, 46, 201, 213 Political Arenas 3, 4, 113, 114, 207 Political Order 27, 28 Political Power 5, 6, 9, 10, 13, 21, 27, 29, 91, 92, 97–99, 114, 124, 134, 198, 199–201 204 213, 219, 220, 296, 299 Political Solidarity 93, 95 Political Sphere 5, 19, 43, 201, 212 Power Relationship 139, 142, 198, 202, 283, 290, 295, 303 Strategies of Power 86 Race 10, 27, 30, 36, 74, 158 Rites / Ritual Circumcision 151, 304 Coding of Ritual Forms 144 Days of Mourning and Commemoration 147 Family Celebrations 148, 163 Funeral Rites 144, 145, 146, 166 Marriage Rites 148, 163, 165 Memorial Rites 167 Rites of Mourning 144, 145, 166 Ritual Bath 48, 70, 108, 264, 265 Ritual Ceremony 70, 180, 285 Ritual of Exorcism 180 Ritual Purity and Impurity 7, 20, 26, 41, 42, 49, 78, 108, 109, 159, 167, 206, 207, 209, 211, 225, 227, 228, 229, 233, 234, 239, 240, 255, 261, 264–269, 296, 298, 299, 300–303 Ritual Secrecy 209 Ritually Impure 48, 56, 206, 265, 269, 271, 299, (301) (Ritually Polluted 238, 239, 282) Rules (Lows) Regarding of Purity and Impurity 17, 20, 41, 56, 119, 209, 265, 266, 300 Symbolic Expressions of Ritual Distinctions 144 341

Index of Concepts

Symbolic Rites 284 Temple Rites 259 Sect Reformist Sect 112 Sect and the Wider Society 110, 111 Sectarian Identity 107 Sectarian Movement 112 (Typology of) 110, 112 Sectarian Roots 104 Sectarian Self-identification 104, 110 Sectarianism 113 Separation of the Sect 111 Soteriological Exclusivism 111 Typology of Sectarian Movements 110, 112 Secularism Greater State 9, 27, 33, 158 Secular Aristocrats 95, 96, 97, 98 Secular Authorities 96 Secular Government 10, 27, 28 Secular World 112 Welfare of the State 27 Self Self-Ascription 101, 170, 176 Self-Assertion 256 Self-Awareness 20, 138, 250 Self-Consciousness 20, 253 Self-Identification 104, 110, 126 Self-Image 28, 117, 121, 133, 144, 170, 212, 255, 294 Self-Perception 3, 16, 31, 193, 216, 294 Self-Perpetuation 204, 296 Self-Presentation 3, 16, 128, 230, 273, 294 Selfsameness 114, 128 Significant Others Important Others 121, 126 Inferior Others 271, 299 Role of Significant Others 8 Significant Groups 104, 268 Significant Others 3, 4, 8, 16, 21, 120, 121, 138, 161, 193, 294 342

Social Actual Social Category 31 Construction of Social Reality 22 Negotiated Social Order 303 Significant Social Markers 32 Social Agenda 258 Social Boundary 32, 33, 34, 143, 199, 200 Social Categorization 141 Social Category 5, 11, 12, 13, 22, 25, 34, 31, 35, 37, 39, 48, 57, 74, 104, 105, 113, 114, 106, 118 120–123, 126, 130, 132, 133, 137, 143, 146, 148, 161, 211, 225, 227, 228, 229, 230, 236–238, 239, 251, 268, 274– 278, 280, 281, 289, 291, 293, 299 Social Change 3, 122, 193, 200 Social Class 6, 13, 14, 15, 35, 232, 235–237, 246, 258, 289, 290, 292 Social Comparison 105, 161 Social Concepts 11 Social Control 94, 95, 151, 153 Control of Personal Behavior 144 Normalization 94, 95 Social Conventions 11, 41, 69, 86, 88, 89, 91, 94, 123, 147, 207, 252, 257, 260, 302 Social Gap 6, 199, 268 Social Gathering 148, 152, 191, 202 Social Habits 149 Social Hierarchy 14, 76, 78, 91, 96, 124, 144, 146, 153, 159, 162, 180, 259, 261, 268, 274, 275, 277, 283, 284, 285, 286, 289, 293, 294, 301 Social Interaction 6, 35, 77, 199, 209, 234, 245, 248, 283 Social Justice 27, 212, 215, 277, 296 Social Life 35, 87, 159, 188, 201, 249, 265, 301 Social Location 37, 113, 122, 148, 154, 157, 163, 182, 185, 186, 204, 209, 211, 235, 284, 285–287, 294, 297 Social Mapping of Jewish Society 9

Index of Concepts

Social Mobility 117, 118, 121, 122, 123, 275, 289 Social Order 14, 180, 200, 251, 255, 257, 269, 273, 274, 277, 279, 280, 283, 286, 290, 298, 303 — Existing Social Order 7, 125, 200, 252, 277 Social Position 63, 78, 122, 139, 147, 258, 289, 291 Social Processes 3, 9, 16, 17, 33, 121 Social Recognition 96 Social Reformers 258 Social Separatism 6, 75, 113, 198 Social Solidarity 146 Social Stratification 7, 11, 17, 118, 236, 258, 273, 276, 277, 279, 287, 288, 293 Social Stratum 75, 236, 274, 236, 258, 274, 279, 280 Social Visits 147 Socio-political sphere 300, 301 Socio-Religious Political Sphere 5, 43, 19, 201 Socio-religious sphere 19, 134, 195, 198, 300, 301 Sociology of ignorance 85, 86, 90 Stigma Stigma 238, 240 Stigmatization 237, 238, 240, 241, 261, 271, 299 Stigmatize 232, 240, 271, 282 Structure Contemporary Social Structure 30, 40, 90, 97, 142, 259

Religious Structure 259, 285, 302 Secular and Democratic structure 259 Secular Democratic Structure 259 Social Structure 8, 13, 16, 20, 24, 26, 28, 30, 31, 37, 39, 40, 85, 86, 88, 90, 91–93, 97, 107, 112, 142, 161, 180, 185, 220, 222, 252, 259, 261, 273, 277, 280, 283, 284, 290, 297, 298, 304 Sociological Structure 274, 286 Stratified Structures 8 Structure of Opportunities 15 Structure of Power 222 (Structural Power 221) Structure of Secrecy 211, 268 Structure(d) Hierarchy 223 Structured and Unstructured Culture 144 Traditional and Religious Structure 259, 285, 302 Symbol Complex Body of Symbols 283 Natural Symbols 144 Political Symbolism 217 Symbol of Status 143, 144, 147, 180, 213, 294 Symbolic Action 283, 285 Symbolic Activities 277 Symbolic Expressions of Ritual Distinctions 144 Symbolic Form 283 (Formation) 37 Symbolic Hierarchy 108, 146, 189, 190, 213, 285, 286 Symbolic Identity 143 Symbolically reconstructed past 127

343

Index of Names

INDEX OF NAMES

Aaron 53, 131, 137, 262 Abba Hanin 130 Abba Saul 78, 230 Abba Yossi ben Johanan 78 Aberbach M. 185, 186 Abraham 10, 125, 131, 150 Abtalion 128, 132 Abtinas (House of Abtinas) 64, 89, 90, 135 Abtolomos bar Reuben 157, 158 Adorno T. W. 94 Agripas the First 96 Agripas the Second 96 Ahiah 60, 64 Albeck H. 24, 76, 134, 165, 175, 178, 184, 260 Albinus the Procurator 29 Alexander Yannai 132 Alon G. 5, 6, 11, 19, 44, 45, 47, 48, 52, 54, 97, 98, 114, 115, 123, 134, 147, 169–176, 178, 179, 181 184, 186, 194– 196, 212, 214, 218, 222, 230, 234, 264, 266, 269, 291 Althusser L. 94 Amit D. 82, 265 Ananias the High Priest 96, 124 Ananus ben Ananus the High Priest 44 — House of Ananus 29 Ananus the High Priest 45 Andersson M. xiii Annas 74 Anthias F. 141 344

Antigonus of Sokho 132 Antiochus Epiphanes IV 28, 71, 132 Avigad N. 38, 147 Baer Y. 131 Baldi S. 78, 292 Bang A. xiii Barag D. 36 Bar-Ilan M. 5, 7, 11, 30, 54, 55, 75, 160, 257, 273, 274, 277–280 Bar-Kochva B. 43 Bar-Kokhba 22, 36, 37, 45, 55, 69, 81, 82, 115, 119, 155, 156, 183, 208 Barnett B. 127 Baron S. W. 5, 20, 233 Barth F. 8, 32, 33, 39, 121, 122, 142–144, 158, 161, 265 Baumgarten A. 107–110, 112, 113, 264, 265 Beer M. 116, 262, 273 Ben Ahiah 64 Ben Ari E. xii Ben Arzah 64 Ben Azzai 171, 190 Ben Bebai 64 Ben Diphai 64 Ben Geber 64 Ben Maklit 64 Ben Pelech 64 Ben Qamsar 85 Ben Shalom 209 Ben Sirach 137

Index of Names

Ben Totephet 64 Ben Zoma 171 Ben-Eliezer U. 289 Benjamin 64 Benjamin O. xii Benjamin W. 94 Bennett T. 92, 94 Ben-Shalom I. 115, 116, 176, 211, 212, 285 Berger P. 22, 257 Bhabha H. 9, 253–255 Biale D. 130 Blidstein G. 71, 72, 76 Blumer H. 222 Boethus [House of Boethus] 29 — Martha 74 Bottomore T. 219 Bourdieu P. 8, 14, 15, 123, 192, 289, 290, 292 Boyarin D. 115, 253, 255, 269 Bradely K. 149 Broshi M. 38 Buchanan 111 Buchler A. 5–7, 19, 23, 39, 47, 54, 62, 66, 74–76, 80, 81, 97, 98, 118, 181, 182, 230, 233, 234, 266 Burkitt I. 94, 290 Caesar 98, 209 Cahill J. M. 265 Caiaphas 74 Calhoun G. 141 Caser Philips 99 Casson L. 148 Chevallier 148 Cohen A. 9, 59, 73, 79, 88, 170, 199, 201–204, 207, 219, 221, 283, 285, 295 Cohen S. 5, 20, 161 Cohen S. J. D. xii, 101–104, 106, 110, 111, 171, 181, 184, 199, 200, 230, 242–244 Coser L. 193 Coutant-Sassic D. 193, 195

David 131 — House of David 146, 174 De Jonge M. 16 Derrida J. 94 Deutch M. 193 Dewey J. 193 Douglas M. 144, 153, 253, 254 Du Bois W. E. B. 253, 254 Dunbabin K. 149 Efron J. 134, 243, 244 Eisenstadt S. N. xi, xii Elazar 64 Elazar ben Ananias 44, 68 Elazar ben Gion 45 Elazar ben Neus 45 Elazar the Priest 22, 45, 119, 130, 131, 137 Elazar, a representative of the Pharisees 71 Eliav Y. Z. 151, 152 Eliezer ben Horcanos 116 Elisha 263, 264 Engels F. 14, 92 Epstein J. 229 Epstein L. 275 Eriksen T. H. 77 Erikson E. 141, 193 Ezrah 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 55, 129, 274 Fanon F. 9, 253, 262 Feldman L. 131 Felix the procurator 29 Festinger L. 106, 193 Finkelstein L. 131, 233 Fleischer E. 82 Flusser D. 36 Foucault M. 8, 86, 87, 94, 95, 139, 251 Fox R. 292 Frankel D. 42 Freidson E. 87, 94 Freshtman C. 78 Freud S. 193 345

Index of Names

Friedman J. 10, 127, 128, 138 Funkenstein A. 8, 85, 87, 88, 90, 128, 140, 207, 251, 257 Gafni Y. 16, 176 Gandhi M. K. 254 Ganshof F. L. 13 Garmu [House of Garmu] 64, 85 Gaus 59 Gebini 64 Geertz C. 8, 9, 27, 28, 33, 39, 141, 158 Geiger A. 25 Giddens A. 14 Gidron-Albeck R. xii, 173 Gihon M. 151, 152 Gilroy P. 253 Ginzberg L. 48 Gluckman M. 21, 73, 84, 163, 164, 204 Gluska I. 16, 154 Goffman E. 238 Goodblatt D. 19, 45, 46, 53–55, 68, 95– 98, 134, 173, 196 Goodman M. 6, 29, 68, 104, 106, 125, 198, 214, 215, 216, 29 Grabbe L. I. 103 Gramsci A. 9, 10, 92–95, 200, 219, 251, 252, 255 Guha R. 252 Habermas J. 94 Hadar D. 152, 153 Haduta 82 Halbwachs 127 Hall S. 93, 94 Hamel G. 38, 39 Hananiah ben Hezekiah ben Gurion 208, 209 Hananiah ben Nedabaeus 29 Haran M. 42, 53, 55, 57, 60, 62 Havtah (Phineas of Havtah) 69 Hegel G. W. F. 253 Heinemann Y. 131 Herod the Great 132 346

Herr M. D. 57, 104, 131, 137, 138 Herzfeld M. 33–35, 39, 127, 128, 138 Hezekiah 146, 147 Hezser C. 147, 148 Hidle K. xiii Hiebert P. G. 141 Hierschfeld Y. 208, 210 Hildur V. 141 — Hillel 103, 113, 115, 128, 132–134, 156, 170, 171, 174, 227, 231, 288 — School of Hillel 115 — House of Hillel 269 Hofler 153 Hölscher 24 Horkheimer M. 94 Hroch M. 124 Hugras ben Levi 64, 85 Isaac 131 Ishmael ben Elisha 96 Ishmael ben Phiabi [House of Phiabi] 29, 78, 124 Jackendoff R. 106, 289 Jacob 131 Jacobsen F. xii Jason 28 Jenkins R. 141 Jeremias J. 57, 60, 62, 68, 69, 74, 76, 95, 96, 98, 99, 111 Jesus ben Gamala 44 Jesus ben Sapphas 45 Jesus Christ 18, 98, 107, 108, 112, 171, 183, 184, 185 Joazar, The High Priest 74 Johanan ben Gudgada 270 Johanan ben Hanan 29 Johanan ben Nezif 164 Johanan ben Pinhas 60, 64 Johanan ben Zakkai 103, 104, 116, 119, 123, 124, 132, 167–169, 172–175, 177, 179, 188, 189, 222, 223, 297, 171, 173 John ben Ananias 45

Index of Names

John Horcanos 71 John the Essene 45 Jonathan ben Beterah 208 Jones D. 78, 79, 292 Joseph ben Gurion 45 Joseph ben Simeon 45 Josephus (Josephus ben Matthias) 16, 29, 35, 36, 39, 40, 43–45, 59, 60, 67– 71, 73, 74, 96, 98, 102, 103, 105, 106, 108, 109, 113, 114, 122, 125, 128, 129, 131, 133, 137, 158, 264 Joshua ben Gamla 74 Joshua ben Gamla 74, 124 Joshua ben Perachiah 128, 132 Julian, the Emperor 46 Jung K. G. 193

Lorde A. 138 Luckmann T. 22, 86, 257 Lupton L. 79 Luria B. Z. 69, 75, 76, 78, 80, 98

Kahane T. 81, 83 Kapferer B. xiii, 180, 181 Kasher A. 73 Katovich A. 139, 140 Keesing R. 12, 238, 251, 253 Kimelman R. 5, 20, 52, 98, 99 Kimmerling B. 93, 94 Klein S. 81–83, 208 Kloner A. xii, 81, 82 Knohl I. 30, 41, 42 Krois S. 39

Magen Y. 265 Maines D. 139, 140 Malinowski B. 164 Manger L. xii Mantel D.131, 134, 176 Marcuse H. 94 Marx K. 14, 15, 92, 93, 221, 289 Mason S. 102, 113 Mattaiah ben Theophilus 74 Matthew ben Shmuel 64 Mayer A. 77 Mazar B. 147, 155 Mazar E. 155 Meisel J. H. 219 Melamed E. Z. 183 Memi A. 253 Merton R. 22, 73 Michels R. 219–221 Moghaddam F. M. 28, 78, 106 Mosca G. 9, 92, 117, 219–223, 297 Moses 108, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 137, 140, 194, 295 Mouffe C. 11, 252

Lakoff R. 256 Lamb R. K. 84, 204, 219, 222 Lavie S. 254 Leon N. xii Levi the net maker 182 Levine L. I. 5, 6, 11, 24, 35, 36, 70, 95, 113–116, 125, 134, 146, 149, 154, 156, 169, 178, 186, 196, 198–200, 206, 214, 215, 232, 242, 249 Libermann S. 124, 152, 197, 226, 227, 285 Lifshitz B. 99 Lightstone J. 102, 103 Lithman Y. xii

Nahum the scribe 129, 155, 253–255, 268 Nakman D. 5 Naveh H. 139 Naveh J. 36, 37, 83, 99, 154, 155 Nehemiah 24, 25, 26, 27, 29, 30, 129, 274 Nehru J. 254 Nehuniah 64 Neusner J. 16, 102, 103, 104, 109, 111, 115, 226, 227, 231 Newman H. 102–104, 109 Nicholas R. 201 Nicolaus of Damascus 131 Nielsen I. 149 347

Index of Names

Nittai the Arbelite 128, 132 Norton A. xii, 141 Noy D. 149 Onias III 28 Onkelos 270 Ophir A. 253–255, 268 Oppenheimer A. 7, 11, 48, 81, 226, 227, 230, 231, 233–236, 242, 245, 246, 248, 259–261, 266, 267, 269 Palevitch D. 153 Parati G. 252, 253 Pareto V. 9, 92, 219–222, 297 Parry G. 221 Paul the Pharisee 108, 188 Petahiah 64 Philo of Alexandria 16, 21, 29, 57, 70, 71, 73, 74, 99, 131, 264 Phineas of Havtah 69 Pompey 43 Rab 282 Rabban Gamaliel the Elder (Rabban Gamaliel I) 75, 96, 104, 106, 113, 129, 133, 134, 169, 172, 171, 174, 188 Rabban Simeon ben Gamaliel 49, 104, 106, 133, 134, 171, 172, 173, 174, 231, 260 Rabban Gamaliel II 47, 104, 116, 134, 150, 157, 158, 164, 168, 173–175, 177, 180, 183, 194–197, 210, 212, 213, 216–218, 223, 270, 297 Rabbi [Yehudah the Prince] (R. Judah ben Simeon) 48, 56, 146, 164, 174, 188, 206, 207, 229 R. Abahu 166 R. Aha 82 R. Aha ben Ulla 263 R. Al’ai 177 R. Aqiba 22, 116, 118, 151, 167, 172, 175, 177, 179, 181, 182, 184, 187, 188, 190, 194, 196, 197, 205, 216, 223, 243, 278 348

R. Ba 282 R. Ba Zabeda 166 R. ben Teradyon 55 R. Berekiah 282 R. Dosa ben Harkinas 119, 120, 177, 194 R. Elazar birbi-qalir 82, 96 R. Elazar ben Arach 119, 168, 189 R. Elazar ben Azariah 69, 116, 119, 124, 151, 167, 172, 175, 182, 187, 188, 191, 216 R. Elazar ben Harsom 124 R. Elazar ben Zadok 69, 96, 164, 180, 183 R. Elazar Hisma 212 R. Eliezer ben Horcanos 116, 118, 119, 124, 130, 150, 167, 175, 179, 181, 182, 184, 187, 191 R. Eliezer ben Jacob 175, 263 R. Eliezer Haqappar 205, 206 R. Halafta 55, 164, 181 R. Hanin 146 R. Hanina 286 R. Hanina ben Teradyon 181 R. Haninah ben Dosa 171, 172 R. Haninah ben R. Abahu 293 R. Hiyya 48 R. Hiyya bar Abba 293 R. Hiyya bar Ba 287 R. Hiyya the Elder 187 R. Horcanos 182 R. Huna 282 R. Illai (the father of R. Yehudah) 293 R. Ishmael 148, 181, 184, 188, 206 R. Ishmael ben Phabi 172 R. Ishmael ben Yossi (R. Ishmael ben R. Yossi) 205, 206 R. Jacob 153 R. Johanan 169 R. Johanan ben Nuri 89, 116, 164, 177, 194, 212 R. Johanan the Priest 99 R. Joshua 181, 187

Index of Names

R. Joshua ben Hananiah 119, 148, 150, 167, 171, 175, 179, 181, 182, 184, 187, 188, 194, 195, 196, 216, 217, 194 R. Joshua ben Levi 153, 284, 293 R. Meir 153, 171, 179, 183, 184, 239 R. Miasha 129 R. Natan 16, 105, 109 R. Pinchas the Priest 82 R. Pinhas ben Ya’ir 205–207 R. Simeon [ben Natanel] 168 R. Simeon 53, 214, 177 R. Simeon bar Abba 166 R. Simeon [bar Yochai] 179 R. Simeon ben Eleazar 153, 184 R. Simeon of Mispah 129 R. Simlai 82 R. Tanhuma ben R. Hiyya 82 R. Tarfon 47, 56, 75, 116, 119, 120, 124, 171, 175, 181, 182, 187, 205, 223, 190 R. Yehudah the Priest 119 R. Yehudah ben Tabbai 128, 132 R. Yehudah [Bar Ilai] 190, 231 R. Yishmael [ben Elishah] 182 R. Yishmael ben R. Elazar ben Azaria 182 R. Yossi [the Galilean] 164 R. Yossi [the Priest] 167 R. Yossi 75 R. Yossi ben Johanan of Jerusalem 128, 132, 133 R. Yossi ben R. Haninah 263 R. Yossi ben Yoezer of Zeredah (Tzereidah) 128, 132, 133, 270 R. Yossi the Galilean 205 R. Yossi the Priest 76, 119 R. Yossi Qatnuta 172 R. Zadok 96, 150, 175, 177 R. Zechariah 72, 76, 119 Rabin C. 226 Rabinowitz L. I. 273, 277 Rappaport U. 28, 35, 36, 68, 95 Rav Hanan 263 Rav Kahana 191 Rav Sherira Gaon 175

Ravid L. 47, 266 Regev E. 5, 25, 30, 42, 104, 106, 110, 264, 265, 269 Reich R. 151 Rivkin E. 102, 104, 106 Robbins D. 289 Robin N. xii Rosenfeld B. Z. 116, 130, 147, 159, 175, 178, 186, 206, 208, 215, 262 Rubin N. 17, 143, 144, 145, 149, 150, 165, 166, 168 Safrai H. 115, 117, 135, 159, 195, 199, 288 Safrai S. 5, 16, 19, 23, 38, 44, 47, 52, 56, 60, 63, 66, 115, 119, 123, 174, 182– 184, 186, 189, 206, 216, 217, 230 Safrai Z. xii, 5, 6, 7, 16, 19, 36, 81, 102, 115, 117, 119, 135, 147, 159, 169, 170, 172, 195, 196, 198, 199, 214, 216, 228, 230, 273, 288, 289, 291–293 Said E. 94, 253 Saldarini A. 103, 114 Salome Alexandra 132 Samuel 64 Samuel the Priest 99 Sanders E. P. 102, 111, 113 Schiffman L. 230 Schurer E. 24 Schwartz B. 127, 139 Schwartz D. 24 Schwartz J. 206 Schwartz S. 273 Scott J. 255–257, 262, 287 Selznick P. 59 Seymour-Smith C. 12, 13, 238 Shammai 103, 115, 128, 132, 171, 226, 227, 231, 288 — School of Shammai 115 — House of Shammai 41, 209, 227, 269 Shapira H. 16, 173, 174, 181–183, 196 Shapiro Y. 289 349

Index of Names

Sharabi R. 254 Shatzman I. 43 Shemaiah 128, 132 Shenhav Y. 139, 253, 254 Shmuel the Small 210 Shohat E. 253, 254 Shome R. 252, 253, 254 Shremer A. 16, 169 Sicakkan H. xiii Silfen A. 93 Silverstein M. 33–35, 37, 39, 85, 156 Simeon ben Azzai 176 Simeon ben Natanel the Priest 75, 119, 169 Simeon ben Shetach 128, 132 Simeon ben Zoma 176 Simeon the High Priest 71, 74, 75, 96 Simeon the Just 128, 132 Simeon, son of a Temple Captain 96 Simmel G. 193 Smallwood E. M. 29, 36 Spivak G. C. 94, 252, 254 Steinsaltz A. 8, 85, 88, 90, 207, 251 Stern M. 11, 12, 16, 24, 28, 29, 35, 46, 68, 69, 88, 95 Stoler A. L. 253 Strauss A. 200 Sugrue N. 139, 140 Sussmann Y. 24, 25, 30, 104, 106 Swedenburg T. 254 Tabori J. 149 Tadmor H. 24, 25 Tajfel H. 8, 28, 78, 106, 122–124, 138, 141, 161 Ta-Shema I. 287

350

Taylor D. M. 28, 78, 106 Trifon D. 5, 7, 11, 12, 19, 46, 52–54, 81, 83, 118, 119 Tropper D. 11, 76, 77, 84, 88 Turner J. C. 8, 28, 78, 106, 123, 141, 161 Ulrichsen J. xii Urbach E. 11, 62, 81, 83, 88, 124, 132, 135, 170, 172, 217, 230, 234, 235 Van Den Berghe P. L. 78, 79, 292 Van Der Veer P. 127 Wald S. G. 243, 244 Weber M. 61, 62, 68, 203 Weinfeld M. 41, 42, 47 Weiss Z. 149 Wellhausen J. 24 Wilson B. 79, 110–114 Wolf E. 13 Wong F. 193, 195 Worchel S. 192, 195 Yadin Y. 36–39, 153, 155 Yankelevitch R. 5, 7, 75, 273, 277, 283 Yerushalmi J. 128, 138 Young I. M. 142 Yount M. 95 Zechariah 69 Zechariah ben Amphicalleus 45 Zeitlin S. 6, 11, 131, 232–234 Zerubavel Y. 24, 127, 128, 139 Zicik B. 152, 153 Zissu B. 81, 82, 265 Zonen 183