Hoping against Hope

 

We never give up. No matter what is done to us, however horrific, demeaning or undermining, we struggle on. Hope surely is at the heart of Jewish survival. And yet, there was a moment almost two millenia ago, when some Jews thought it really was not worth continuing. More surprising is that they included a rabbi:

“Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha said: Since the day this Wicked [Roman] Empire came to power, which issues cruel decrees against us and forbids us from observing the Torah its commands, banning circumcision and more… we ought to take it upon ourselves to no longer marry or have children, and to let the seed of Abraham our father come to an end. However, let Israel go their way: it is better that they should err in ignorance rather than on purpose.” (Talmud, Bava Batra 60b)

I remember how shocked I was when I first read these words. Our great Temple, with all its thousands of rituals, the most tangible manifestation of our intimacy with God, had been utterly destroyed by the Romans. With no hope of rebuilding it, with thousands slaughtered and persecution widespread, Rabbi Yishmael felt that the practice of Judaism had become untenable. He was effectively saying, ‘Why bother carrying on if we cannot live our traditions? Let’s just dwindle naturally.’ With sad irony he concluded that the only reason not to impose such a rule is that people would disregard it anyway.

Rabbi Yishmael was a major authority of his day, so why was so he willing to simply give up? His teacher, Rabbi Yehoshua argued differently. He wanted us to weather these persecutions and to remember the Temple in a controlled way. When you do up your house leave a bit unplastered; when you have a celebratory feast leave out a course; and when you wear jewellery do not put it all on together. Though his approach was adopted, the Talmud still presents Rabbi Yishmael’s fatalist path after Rabbi Yehoshua’s, and gives it standing by concluding the chapter with it. Why? To understand the significance of Rabbi Yishmael’s extremist view, we need look at his origins:

“Rabbi Yehoshua once visited the great city of Rome where he heard that a Jewish child – beautiful and ripe for slavery – was imprisoned. He stood at the prison gates and recited a verse from Isaiah which the boy completed... Rabbi Yehoshua was sure this boy would become a great teacher so he had him bailed out for a huge sum. The boy did become a great teacher in Israel and his name was Rabbi Yishmael ben Elisha.” (Talmud, Gittin 58a)

Rabbi Yishmael had experienced Roman cruelty first hand. If it had not been for Rabbi Yehoshua’s intervention, he would have been abused and worked into the ground. Worse still was what happened to his children:

“It is said that the son and the daughter of Rabbi Yishmael were carried off and sold separately to two different masters. When the masters met they both boasted of their attractive slaves and decided to have them married and share their children. The boy and girl were put in a bedroom together. They sat apart, each thinking to themselves, ‘I am from a priestly Jewish cast, how can I marry a common slave?’ Both cried through the night. At dawn, when they finally recognised each other, they wept in each other’s arms until their souls departed.” (ibid.)

Rabbi Yishmael’s childhood and children were stolen from him. True, he had survived, but at a price. His despair in the face of impossible odds is wholly understandable.

Time and again we Jews face threats to our very existence. Israel’s survival is challenged to this day. You only have to read the headlines. Added to this, global assimilation statistics are partly due to people who have had enough and do not want to shoulder the burden of Jewish survival anymore. Some Israelis emigrate in search of a quiet life. So Rabbi Yishmael’s plea continues to haunt us. Why not just give up?

By allowing Rabbi Yishmael’s view to be voiced, the Talmud is teaching us to try to comprehend this tendency to concede. And, astonishingly, it is asking us to not dismiss it outright. We should hear Rabbi Yishmael’s pain, we must feel his broken heart. Though his view was not adopted, it is not to be ignored or forgotten.

Maybe the Talmud is also telling us that in our desperate desire to survive we too must not ignore the cost to our Judaism. Constant battling has hardened us, making us less willing to question ourselves. There is a real danger of becoming monolithic in our focus, deaf to nuance, and impervious to critique.

Some say that with so many enemies we cannot afford to have a conscience, we cannot admit doubt, and we cannot dare to ask: is it all really worth it? But Rabbi Yishmael did. In this historic three-week period between two fast days, 17 Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, his statement still challenges us.

We should not give up. But we should not give up on giving up either.

© 2014 Rabbi Dr Raphael Zarum, Dean of London School of Jewish Studies (LSJS)