Post by Rabbi Neil on Nov 29, 2019 18:42:44 GMT
Two people are walking in the desert but only one has a bottle of water. As they go further and further into the desert, it’s quite clear that they don’t have enough water for the journey for the two of them. If they share the water, both will die, but if they don’t then one will definitely survive. What does the person with the bottle of water do? Should they share the water with the other traveller or should the one who has the bottle drink and let the other one die?
There seems to be a logical answer to this question and an emotional answer. The logical answer is that it’s better that one of them survive than neither so the water should not be shared. The emotional answer is that it should be shared in the hope that something miraculous happens, since who could possibly turn to their travelling companion and say, “Tough luck, pal, I’ve got the bottle and you should have planned ahead”? Who could turn around as their travelling companion collapses on the sand and say, “Should have thought ahead, shouldn’t you?”
So, which is right, according to Judaism? In Tractate Bava Metzia in Talmud, our Rabbis provide an answer. They interpret the verse from this week’s sidrah that says “v’chei achicha imach – “your brother shall live with you” (Lev. 25:36) in differing ways. Ben Patura teaches that “It is better that both should drink and die, rather than that one should behold his companion's death.” Talmud then says “Until Rabbi Akiva came and taught that this verse means that your life takes precedence over his life.” (Bava Metzia 62a). At first glance, it seems as though the Gemara has just presented both opinions, but actually the use of one word – “Until” – suggests a definite preference. What it means is “This was how the verse was interpreted until Rabbi Akiva came and interpreted it differently.” The initial response – the emotional one – says that no-one should be made to stand by while their colleague dies. Then logic takes over – what’s the point of two people dying when one could live?
Logically, this answer absolutely makes sense, but how many people would actually do this? How many people would actually turn to someone dying of thirst in the desert and say, “Sorry, pal, but I’m just going to have to watch you die, you really should have planned ahead?” It seems extraordinarily callous. Most people, I think, would rather share the water and hope for some kind of miracle. And therein lies the problem with this answer, because the miracle was already provided but ignored. The miracle was that God had given enough water for one of the individuals to survive and by sharing the water the effect of that miracle is lost. So we don’t share the water because it was miraculous that God allowed one to survive and not have both individuals die in the desert.
It is interesting to me how when I was in England, this Rabbinic dilemma seemed totally remote and ridiculous to me, but while I live in Santa Fe it carries an actual sense of importance. That said, few of us ever set off for a long trek into the desert on foot. (If anyone does, though, please make sure your Temple dues are up to date before you go!) Nonetheless, I think that this discussion is important for a number of reasons. Firstly, it shows us that it’s okay to hold wildly differing opinions on how to understand our texts – after all, the difference between the interpretations of Ben Patura and Rabbi Akiva couldn’t have been further from each other and yet both made their way into Talmud. More importantly, though, it shows us that we often have to choose between making decisions on an emotional level and on a logical level. Perhaps even harder to deal with is the idea that both opinions are essentially logical deductions – much more than being a case of emotional versus logical these two opinions actually are two differing understandings of how to use logic. One may be more personal and hence seem more emotional than the other, but ultimately they’re both logical derivations. Two people can read the same text and logically come to a completely differing understanding of that text, and this has profound implications for the notion that texts say specific things. If a verse as simple as “your brother may live with you” can be interpreted as either “don’t watch someone else die and risk death with them if need be” or as “you have to live by the law even if someone else dies,” then every other verse is surely wildly open to interpretation.
This passage from Talmud, based on this verse from our sidrah, is supremely important in terms of understanding how Torah is transmitted from generation to generation. The idea that there is one way, one interpretation, one tradition, one right expression of Judaism simply isn’t borne out by this text. Now Talmud does decide on an authoritative interpretation – it sees that of Akiva (your life takes priority over that of the other person) as of being more appropriate an interpretation than that of Ben Patura but that is surely only because this is actually a halachic matter – does the law insist we give up our lives for another person? The answer is no, it doesn’t insist upon it. That’s the halachah. People need to know the law. But that’s only the law as given by Akiva and quoted as correct by those who edited together the Talmud. The disciples of Ben Patura would have said the halachah was different and they would have been right to have done so.
Recognising a valid interpretation is an important skill in Jewish life. Recognising a valid halachic ruling is also an important skill. Ensuring that we don’t fall back on safe notions that “Judaism says” as though it only speaks in one voice, that’s an even more important skill. May God help us to acquire such skills. Amen.
There seems to be a logical answer to this question and an emotional answer. The logical answer is that it’s better that one of them survive than neither so the water should not be shared. The emotional answer is that it should be shared in the hope that something miraculous happens, since who could possibly turn to their travelling companion and say, “Tough luck, pal, I’ve got the bottle and you should have planned ahead”? Who could turn around as their travelling companion collapses on the sand and say, “Should have thought ahead, shouldn’t you?”
So, which is right, according to Judaism? In Tractate Bava Metzia in Talmud, our Rabbis provide an answer. They interpret the verse from this week’s sidrah that says “v’chei achicha imach – “your brother shall live with you” (Lev. 25:36) in differing ways. Ben Patura teaches that “It is better that both should drink and die, rather than that one should behold his companion's death.” Talmud then says “Until Rabbi Akiva came and taught that this verse means that your life takes precedence over his life.” (Bava Metzia 62a). At first glance, it seems as though the Gemara has just presented both opinions, but actually the use of one word – “Until” – suggests a definite preference. What it means is “This was how the verse was interpreted until Rabbi Akiva came and interpreted it differently.” The initial response – the emotional one – says that no-one should be made to stand by while their colleague dies. Then logic takes over – what’s the point of two people dying when one could live?
Logically, this answer absolutely makes sense, but how many people would actually do this? How many people would actually turn to someone dying of thirst in the desert and say, “Sorry, pal, but I’m just going to have to watch you die, you really should have planned ahead?” It seems extraordinarily callous. Most people, I think, would rather share the water and hope for some kind of miracle. And therein lies the problem with this answer, because the miracle was already provided but ignored. The miracle was that God had given enough water for one of the individuals to survive and by sharing the water the effect of that miracle is lost. So we don’t share the water because it was miraculous that God allowed one to survive and not have both individuals die in the desert.
It is interesting to me how when I was in England, this Rabbinic dilemma seemed totally remote and ridiculous to me, but while I live in Santa Fe it carries an actual sense of importance. That said, few of us ever set off for a long trek into the desert on foot. (If anyone does, though, please make sure your Temple dues are up to date before you go!) Nonetheless, I think that this discussion is important for a number of reasons. Firstly, it shows us that it’s okay to hold wildly differing opinions on how to understand our texts – after all, the difference between the interpretations of Ben Patura and Rabbi Akiva couldn’t have been further from each other and yet both made their way into Talmud. More importantly, though, it shows us that we often have to choose between making decisions on an emotional level and on a logical level. Perhaps even harder to deal with is the idea that both opinions are essentially logical deductions – much more than being a case of emotional versus logical these two opinions actually are two differing understandings of how to use logic. One may be more personal and hence seem more emotional than the other, but ultimately they’re both logical derivations. Two people can read the same text and logically come to a completely differing understanding of that text, and this has profound implications for the notion that texts say specific things. If a verse as simple as “your brother may live with you” can be interpreted as either “don’t watch someone else die and risk death with them if need be” or as “you have to live by the law even if someone else dies,” then every other verse is surely wildly open to interpretation.
This passage from Talmud, based on this verse from our sidrah, is supremely important in terms of understanding how Torah is transmitted from generation to generation. The idea that there is one way, one interpretation, one tradition, one right expression of Judaism simply isn’t borne out by this text. Now Talmud does decide on an authoritative interpretation – it sees that of Akiva (your life takes priority over that of the other person) as of being more appropriate an interpretation than that of Ben Patura but that is surely only because this is actually a halachic matter – does the law insist we give up our lives for another person? The answer is no, it doesn’t insist upon it. That’s the halachah. People need to know the law. But that’s only the law as given by Akiva and quoted as correct by those who edited together the Talmud. The disciples of Ben Patura would have said the halachah was different and they would have been right to have done so.
Recognising a valid interpretation is an important skill in Jewish life. Recognising a valid halachic ruling is also an important skill. Ensuring that we don’t fall back on safe notions that “Judaism says” as though it only speaks in one voice, that’s an even more important skill. May God help us to acquire such skills. Amen.