Scripture and Tradition: Rabbi Akiva and the Triumph of Midrash 9780812290431

Table of contents :
Cover
CONTENTS
Introduction
PART I. A HERMENEUTIC OF CAMOUFLAGE
Chapter 1. The Sifra as Midrash: Hermeneutic Markedness
Chapter 2. The Sifra as Midrash: Vacuity and Semantic Discontinuity
Chapter 3. Terminological Identity and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage
Chapter 4. “On the Basis of This, They Said” (Mikan 'Amru) and the Role of Scripture
PART II. THE CURIOUS CAREER OF RABBI AKIVA
Chapter 5. Rabbi Akiva the Interpreter: From the Mishnah to the Talmud
Chapter 6: Rabbi Akiva, the Anonymous Sifra, and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage
Chapter 7. Rabbi Akiva’s Biographical Transformation
PART III. MIDRASH AND HALAKHOT: A REEVALUATION
Chapter 8. The Anomaly of Tannaitic Literature: Interpretation, Revelation, and Mysteries
Excursus. Oral Tradition as the Site of Esotericism
Chapter 9. Midrash and Extra-Scriptural Tradition: A Synchronic Model
Conclusion: Rabbi Akiva and the Ironic Triumph of Midrash
Appendix: Hebrew Sources
List of Abbreviations
Notes
Bibliography
Index of Classical Sources
General Index
A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
K
L
M
N
P
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W
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Acknowledgments

Citation preview

Scripture and Tradition

Divinations: Rereading Late Ancient Religion

Series Editors Daniel Boyarin, Virginia Burrus, Derek Krueger

Scr iptur e a nd T r a di t ion Rabbi Akiva and the Triumph of Midrash

A z z a n Y a di n-I sr a e l

U n i v e r s i t y of Pe n n s y lva n i a Pr e s s P h i l a de l p h i a

Copyright © 2015 University of Pennsylvania Press All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used for purposes of review or scholarly citation, none of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without written permission from the publisher. Published by University of Pennsylvania Press Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19104-4112 www.upenn.edu/pennpress Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 A Cataloging-in-Publication record is available from the Library of Congress ISBN 978-0-8122-4643-8

To Hilit. Always.

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Contents

Introduction  1 Pa rt I. A Hermeneutic of C a moufl age Chapter 1. The Sifra as Midrash: Hermeneutic Markedness  9 Chapter 2. The Sifra as Midrash: Vacuity and Semantic Discontinuity  26 Chapter 3. Terminological Identity and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage  53 Chapter 4. “On the Basis of This, They Said” (Mikan ʾAmru) and the Role of Scripture  73 Pa rt II. The Cur ious C a r eer of R abbi Ak iva Chapter 5. Rabbi Akiva the Interpreter: From the Mishnah to the Talmud  103 Chapter 6: Rabbi Akiva, the Anonymous Sifra, and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage  119 Chapter 7. Rabbi Akiva’s Biographical Transformation  141 Pa rt III. Midr ash a nd H a l a khot: A R eeva luation Chapter 8. The Anomaly of Tannaitic Literature: Interpretation, Revelation, and Mysteries  161

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Excursus. Oral Tradition as the Site of Esotericism  181 Chapter 9. Midrash and Extra-Scriptural Tradition: A Synchronic Model  183 Conclusion: Rabbi Akiva and the Ironic Triumph of Midrash  207 Appendix: Hebrew Sources  213 List of Abbreviations  230 Notes   231 Bibliography  285 Index of Classical Sources  299 General Index  305 Acknowledgments  307

Introduction

The Sifra The present work is, to a great extent, a companion to my study on the legal hermeneutics of the Rabbi Ishmael school1 and, like it, is situated within the scholarly tradition that recognizes a division between the approaches of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael in the halakhic midrashim.2 The Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael (to Exodus) and the Sifre Numbers make up the subgroup associated with Rabbi Ishmael, and the Sifra (to Leviticus) and Sifre Deuteronomy make up the subgroup associated with Rabbi Akiva. The school division,3 initially based on the different terminology and interpretive canons of the works, has been adopted by broad swaths of the scholarly community—most notably, J. N. Epstein and his students (and their students)—and has recently found expression in Menahem Kahana’s authoritative survey of the legal midrashim.4 A number of scholars have challenged the Rabbi Akiva–Rabbi Ishmael division,5 but recent scholarship has tended to affirm Hoffmann’s original insight, often moving beyond matters of terminology or interpretive methods. I have in mind Tzvi Novick’s suggestive analysis of the two schools’ different assumptions regarding Scripture’s relationship with the world,6 Marc Hirshman’s discussion of the characterization of non-Jews in the two schools,7 and Ishay Rosen-Zvi’s analysis of yetzer ha-raʿ (“the evil inclination”).8 Hewing to the philological assumptions of this approach, the present study examines those sections of the Sifra identified as part of the Rabbi Akiva corpus, to the exclusion of a number of lengthy passages foreign to the Sifra in terminology, interpretive methods, and sages cited:9 i. The treatise on the thirteen hermeneutic rules (middot) that opens the Sifra

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ii. The Mekhilta de-Miluʾim on the dedication of the Tabernacle (Lev. 8:1–10:7) iii. The Mekhilta de-ʿArayot on illicit sexual relations (Lev. 18:7–23 and 20:10–21) There is no complete critical edition of the Sifra. Louis Finkelstein began a critical edition of the Sifra, but it covers only the first two sections (dibburaʾ de-Nedavah and dibburaʾ de-ḥovah).10 Also incomplete is Avraham Shoshana’s edition, of which three volumes have appeared, covering the treatise on the middot and, again, dibburaʾ de-Nedavah and dibburaʾ de-ʾovah.11 Absent a critical edition, I cite Isaac Hirsch Weiss’s edition (by page and column)12 as well as what is widely considered the finest Sifra manuscript, MS Assemani 66 (also known as Vatican 66), a facsimile edition of which was published by Finkelstein under the name Torat Kohanim.13 Thus, “Tzav pereq 17.5, Weiss 40b; TK 177” includes the standard citation (tractate Tzav pereq 17, halakhah 5), the location in Weiss’s edition (page 40, column b), and in Torat Kohanim, here abbreviated as “TK” (page 177). Manuscript comparison of the Sifra, and of all tannaitic literature, has been immeasurably facilitated by the online publication of searchable transcriptions of the major manuscripts, under the guidance of Professor Shamma Friedman.14 Throughout the present study, I have benefited from the insights of the Sifra’s classical commentators, foremost among them Hillel ben Eliakim, known as Rabbenu Hillel, an eleventh- and twelfth-century sage who lived in a Greek-speaking country, about whom little else is known. The standard edition of his commentary is that of Shachne Koleditzky.15 Other important commentaries are those of pseudo-Rabad (attributed to Rabbi Abraham ben David of Posquieres),16 Rabbenu Vidal Serfaty (sixteenth-century Fez, ­Morocco),17 pseudo-Sens (attributed to Rabbi Samson of Sens, twelfth- and thirteenth-century France),18 and Rabbi Meir Leibush ben Jehiel Michel Weiser, better known as Malbim (nineteenth-century Poland and elsewhere).19 There is currently no satisfactory English translation of the entire Sifra. Jacob Neusner has translated the work,20 but the results are unreliable.21 A far superior translation is currently being produced by Rabbi Howard L. ­Apothaker—though to date, only one volume (covering the pericopes Behar and Beḥuqotai) has appeared.22 I have benefited from Rabbi Apothaker’s translation, even when I have chosen another route in my own. The Hebrew sources drawn from the Sifra (and the Mishnah, when the two are juxtaposed)



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are appended to this book. These sources are marked in the body of the book and in the appendix with the section symbol (§) and numbered by chapter and source number: for example, §4.3 refers to the third source in Chapter 4. This allows readers who wish to examine the Hebrew texts of the Sifra to refer to the appendix at the corresponding number. The Hebrew sources in the appendix are based on MS Assemani 66 and represent a simplified version of the transcription found in the Maʾagarim database.23 The modern study of the Sifra has been ably summarized by Apothaker.24 To the works listed there, I add Ronen Reichman’s study of Mishnah and Sifra parallels, which I discuss in Chapter 9,25 and Yonatan Sagiv’s dissertation, with its important findings regarding the named and anonymous Sifra passages.26 In the opening of his thesis, Sagiv maps out the Sifra’s interpretation, matching every derashah to the word that it interprets, and finds that the Sifra interprets 69 percent of the words in Leviticus. That number increases significantly if we discount from the ranks of the uninterpreted such recurring phrases as “the Lord spoke to Moses, saying” and repeated themes interpreted in one section but not others. Sagiv concludes that the Sifra interprets almost every word in Leviticus and certainly every verse.27 A very different picture emerges if we distinguish named derashot—interpretations cited in the name of a particular sage—from their anonymous counterparts. In terms of quantity, named derashot exist for only 13 percent of the words in Leviticus, while the anonymous Sifra interprets 63 percent of the words. Equally significant is the variance in distribution, with the anonymous derashot distributed relatively evenly but the named passages congregating around a number of key verses. For example, clusters of named derashot are tied to Leviticus 23:15 (“And from the day after the shabbat . . . you shall count for yourselves seven sabbath-weeks”) and 23:40 (“On the first day you shall take for yourselves the boughs of majestic trees: fronds of palms, branches of leafy trees, and willows of the brook”)—both verses that were the focus of vigorous debate in Second Temple and post-70 Jewish literature.28 Sagiv concludes that “the tannaim, as best as we can ascertain, did not produce a systematic interpretation of the Book of Leviticus in its entirety, but rather focused on a narrowly delimited interpretation of select words and themes.”29 The Sifra, then, is made up of a relatively small number of tannaitic interpretations concentrated around a limited group of verses, embedded in a much larger and more uniformly distributed set of anonymous derashot. The significance of these findings will be discussed later in this study.

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A Note on Terminology The reader of the Sifra must grapple with two sets of technical terminology: the Sifra’s and that of Leviticus. For the latter, I have relied on the work of Jacob Milgrom, whose Anchor Bible translation of Leviticus provides the Sifra prooftexts.30 Some key terms in Milgrom’s translation are:31 shelamim: well-being offerings (others: “peace offerings”) ḥaṭaʾt: purification offering (others: “sin offering”) ʾasham: reparation offering (others: “guilt offering”) tenufah: elevation (others: “wave offering”) terumah: contribution (others: “heave offering”) ʿolah: burnt offering qamatz: scoop a handful bikkurim: first-processed offering qodashim: sacred donations The main hermeneutic terms of the Sifra are: ribbui: inclusion miʿuṭ: exclusion peraṭ: except lehaviʾ: introduce lehotziʾ: preclude minayin: whence yakhol: might it be talmud lomar: Scripture teaches, saying 32 shomeʿa ʾani: I might understand

The Argument of This Book Upon hearing that I was working on the Sifra, a colleague confided that he had taught a seminar on the book but “couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on there.” One argument of this book is that the Sifra is indeed a confusing book—not only in the confusion that it can elicit from some readers but in the etymological sense of confundere, “to pour together, admix, commingle.” For it is an admixture of two different and not easily reconciled approaches to the



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biblical text and its interpretation. One of its constituent components, attested primarily in the derashot of the Sifra attributed to tannaitic figures, recognizes the authority of extra-scriptural traditions and, in a number of cases, represents midrash as an ancillary support to them. The other, prominent in the Sifra’s anonymous derashot, is prima facie committed to a more scripturalist approach; however, deeper investigation reveals much of the midrashic terminology to be merely superficial, an effort to camouflage oral-traditional halakhot as though anchored in Scripture. This argument is set forth in Part I of this book. It is, of course, problematic to claim that many of the named derashot in the Sifra—the midrashic work most closely associated with Rabbi Akiva— understand midrash to be ancillary to extra-scriptural traditions and even explicitly assert the primacy of the latter, while Rabbi Akiva is generally considered the greatest of all rabbinic interpreters. Part II addresses this apparent paradox, examining the ways in which different rabbinic sources portray Rabbi Akiva. The first two chapters (Chapters 5 and 6) trace a transformation in the portrayal of Rabbi Akiva as an interpreter: from a sober midrashist in tannaitic sources to charismatic interpreter of Torah secrets in later strata; and from a champion of extra-scriptural halakhot in named Sifra derashot to the implied author (or, at least, hermeneutic inspiration) of passages that seek to efface such halakhot. Chapter 7 presents a third transformation, this one in the biographical representation of Rabbi Akiva. Part III situates the conclusions of Parts I and II within the broader context of rabbinic literature. Chapter 8 expands on the shift, outlined in Chapter 5, toward understanding Scripture as a repository of secrets and interpretation as their revelation. Chapter 9 addresses the claims made in Chapter 6 regarding the relationship between scriptural interpretation and received tradition—between midrash and extra-scriptural traditions. In 2006, I wrote of a shift from tannaitic to post-tannaitic views of midrash, a shift that “is not ‘natural’ or self-evident. It is rather the outcome of a struggle among different groups within what eventually came to be considered early rabbinic Judaism. The story of this struggle remains to be told.”33 This book attempts to tell that story.

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Pa rt I

A Hermeneutic of Camouflage

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Chapter 1

The Sifra as Midrash: Hermeneutic Markedness

Chaim Tchernowitz (Rav Tzaʿir) recounts that his town apikoros (“heretic” or “nonbeliever”), one Abraham Hirschel, used to argue as follows: Moses knew that the Jews are sharp thinkers and tend to misinterpret Scripture to produce meanings not present in the plain sense of the verse, and that they would try to interpret the phrase “[you shall not boil] a kid in its mother’s milk” as though it need not apply to this specific situation and suggest that it applies to milk and meat in general. So he repeated the statement explicitly—“a kid in its mother’s milk”—instructing that we are dealing specifically with a kid and specifically with its own mother’s milk. And just in case two statements do not suffice, he repeated it a third time, “a kid in its mother’s milk,” and not milk and meat as such. What did Rabbi Ishmael1 do? He interpreted the repetition as referring to milk and meat generally: one statement prohibits cooking, the second prohibits eating, and the third prohibits deriving benefit (from the mixture).2 The joke—as so often in the early modern engagement of midrash halakhah— involves a good deal of anxiety regarding the legitimacy, and even the intelligibility, of rabbinic interpretation. According to Hirschel, Scripture’s linguistic sensibilities are fundamentally similar to our own, and the repetition against boiling a kid in its mother’s milk 3 emphasizes that the prohibition must be observed as stated, a preemptive move aimed at countering rabbinic sophistry

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(“Jews are sharp thinkers”). Ironically, it is the very repetition that Moses wields to warn off later interpreters that the rabbis cite in justification of their farreaching (and, according to the town apikoros, utterly baseless) interpretation. But anxiety is a poor guide to understanding a text, and merely identifying derashot that strike the contemporary reader as insufficiently grounded will not get us very far. Since the Sifra follows Leviticus verse by verse, formulating its legal conclusions as an engagement of Scripture, the principle of charity dictates that we begin by taking the Sifra at its word and treat it as an investigation into the meaning of the biblical text.

Hermeneutic Markedness Abraham Hirschel is concerned with the textual elements that the rabbis use to justify their intervention—in this case, the thrice-stated prohibition against boiling a kid in its mother’s milk. Hirschel argues that God actually sought to emphasize the narrow scope of the prohibition: once, twice, and a third time, God refers to the case of the kid in its mother’s milk. The apikoros’s concern, then, is whether the rabbis are right to count this repetition as a warrant for interpreting the biblical phrase “a kid in its mother’s milk.” In Scripture as Logos, I argued that hermeneutic markedness is an important component of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim’s interpretive approach, ­according to which textual markers “generate an opposition between ‘hermeneutically marked’ and ‘hermeneutically unmarked’ verses and that a textual unit must be ‘marked’ to be legitimately interpretable.”4 In keeping with this view, the Mekhilta and the Sifre Numbers scrupulously establish the markedness of a word or a phrase before interpreting it—generally, by identifying a textual element as irregular or by casting it as part of an effort to rectify potential misunderstandings.5 Since hermeneutic (or any) markedness derives its meaning from opposition to unmarked elements, the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim recognize instances in which a biblical word cannot be legitimately interpreted. This is most evident in two formulas: lehafsiq ha-ʿinyan (“divide the account”) and ʾein dorshin teḥilot (“preliminary statements are not interpreted”). In both, biblical repetitions unreflectively assumed to be redundant are shown to be necessary to the understanding of the verse and therefore unmarked. In the case of lehafsiq ha-ʿinyan, the repeated word clarifies the syntax of the verse, while ʾein dorshin teḥilot makes the principled claim that repetition authorizes interpretation only from the second instance of the word onward; the first



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occurrence introduces the subject matter and so cannot count as extraneous. Derashot offered on the basis of syntactically sanctioned repetition—repetitions that do not entail redundancy—are disqualified, and the biblical words remain uninterpreted.6 The Sifra too appears to employ hermeneutic markedness, as it repeatedly refers to biblical lexemes that justify midrashic intervention: §1.1 “ʾOtah and hiʾ are markers of exclusion [miʿuṭim].” (Shemini pereq 1.5, Weiss 47a; TK 200) §1.2 “‘[If his offering for a burnt offering is] from [min] the flock, or of [min] sheep or of [min] goats’ (Lev. 1:10): ‘From the flock’ and ‘Of sheep’ and ‘Of goats’—behold these are markers of exclusion.” (Nedavah parashah 5.2, Weiss 7c; TK 27) §1.3 “Scripture teaches, saying: ‘This is [zoʾt hiʾ] the ritual of the burnt offering’—behold these are markers of exclusion.” (Tzav pereq 1.8, Weiss 29b; TK 129) Rabbinic sources themselves identify hermeneutic markers as a bone of contention between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael. Thus, Numbers 15:31 states that a person who “acts defiantly and reviles the Lord that person shall surely be cut off [hikaret tikaret] from among his people.” Rabbi Akiva takes the repetition of the root k-r-t as an inclusion: “‘Hikaret’ refers to this world, ‘tikaret’ to the world to come.”7 But Rabbi Ishmael derides this argument. Invoking the occurrence of the same root in the previous verse, he asks: “Since it says: ‘That person shall be cut off [ve-nikhreta]’ (Num. 15:30), should I infer, then, that the three instances of karet correspond to three worlds?” According to this derashah, Rabbi Ishmael critiques the proposed markedness of the repetition by noting the reductio ad absurdum that would result if this approach were implemented consistently. Later rabbinic collections contain additional exchanges in the same spirit, as we see in the amoraic midrash Genesis Rabbah: Rabbi Ishmael asked Rabbi Akiva: “Since you were a disciple of Nahum of Gamzu for twenty-two years, ‘buts’ and ‘onlys’ [ʾakin ve-raqin] are excluding markers [miʿuṭim], accusative particles and ‘alsos’ [ʾetim ve-gamin] are inclusion markers [ribbuyim], this accusative particle [in Gen. 1:1]—what is its nature?”8 And the Babylonian Talmud:

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“And the daughter [u-vat] of a priest, when she desecrates herself by harlotry . . . she shall be burned by fire” (Lev. 21:9): Rabbi Akiva says: “The betrothed woman no less than the married woman is to be burned . . .” Rabbi Ishmael said to him, “But if below the word neʿarah refers to a betrothed woman, so, too, here neʿarah refers to a betrothed woman.” Rabbi Akiva responded, “Ishmael, my brother, I am explicating on the basis of [the difference between] bat [‘daughter’] and u-vat [‘and the daughter’]. He said to him, “Because you interpret bat and u-vat [the opening vav of the verse], we are to send her off to be burned?”9 In light of these sources, many scholars plausibly assert that the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and the Rabbi Akiva midrashim are engaged in a fundamentally similar enterprise, but each corpus sanctions a different set of hermeneutic markers. Epstein summarizes the hermeneutic markers characteristic of the Rabbi Akiva midrashim:10 i. Sequences in which the infinitive absolute is followed by a finite form of the same verb (for example, hikaret tikaret) ii. The preposition min (“of,” “from”) as an independent lexeme or in prefix form (mi- or me-) iii. A vav that opens a verse iv. Pronouns and pronominal suffixes v. The accusative particle ʾet vi. Conjunctions such as gam and raq Epstein’s list is drawn from the Sifra’s (and Sifre Deuteronomy’s) interpretive practices, so the identity of these markers cannot be too terribly controversial. Still, problems arise once we try to determine how the Sifra employs them.

Glosses The Sifra often glosses the biblical verse with little or no indication of what motivates the gloss. §1.4 “For I have taken the breast of the elevation offering and the thigh of the contribution from the Israelites, from their sacrifices of



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well-being, and have assigned them to Aaron the priest and to his sons as a due from the Israelites for all time” (Lev. 7:34): “Breast”— this is the breast; “of elevation”—this refers to the elevation of the basket; “thigh”—this is the thigh; “of contribution”—this is the contribution of the thanksgiving offering. (Tzav pereq 17.5, Weiss 40b; TK 177; parallel at Shemini pereq 1.9, Weiss 47a; TK 201) The first thing to note about this derashah is its staccato rhythm, as it juxtaposes biblical elements and glosses with no discussion or justification: “A is B,” “C is D,” and so forth. This is not to say that the glosses are necessarily unmotivated; it is possible that these derashot represent the visible tip of a vast interpretive iceberg, most of which lies submerged beneath the reader’s line of vision. Perhaps; but, all the same, the reader is not granted access to the interpretive process. This approach stands in contrast to the (rare) staccato midrashim in the Rabbi Ishmael collections. In Exodus 12:13, God instructs the Israelites to place blood on the doorposts of their houses to distinguish them from the houses of the Egyptians, for “when I see the blood I will p‑s‑ḥ over you,” which the Mekhilta glosses: “Pesiḥah means nothing other than to spare, as it states ‘like birds hovering overhead, so the Lord of Hosts will protect Jerusalem; He will protect and deliver it, He will spare [pasoaḥ] and rescue it (Isa. 31:5)’” (Mekhilta Pisḥa 7, Horovitz-Rabin, 24; Lauterbach 1:56). Or when the Mekhilta explicates the two rare terms in Exodus 21:10’s instruction that a man who takes a second wife not diminish the sheʾer, the kesut, or the ʿonah of the first wife. “Her sheʾer”—this refers to her food, and similarly it states “[Listen, you heads of Jacob] . . . who eat the sheʾer [NRSV: flesh] of my people” (Mic. 3:1–3), and it is written “[He rained down on them manna to eat] . . . he rained sheʾer [NRSV: flesh] upon them like dust” (Ps. 78:24–27). “Her kesut”—in its plain sense [of clothing]. “And her ʿonah”—this refers to sexual intercourse, as it states “[when Shechem . . . saw her, he seized her] and lay with her and yaʿaneha.” (Gen. 34:3) (Mekhilta Neziqin 3, Horovitz-Rabin, 259; Lauterbach 3:27–28) These derashot do not identify a marked element in the verse, but that is only because such identification is superfluous; lexical glosses are introduced only when the meaning of the term is unclear or in dispute. Moreover, the Mekhilta

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derashot provide scriptural support for their claim, cross-referencing the obscure forms to verses in which their meaning is arguably clearer.11 Aside from the absence of markedness, the Sifra’s interpretation raises several difficulties. Leviticus 7:34 refers to two offerings: “the breast of elevation and the thigh of contribution,” phrases that also appear in the description of the consecration of the Tabernacle.12 Grammatically, the Hebrew construct form indicates that the second nouns are adjectival: ḥazeh ha-tenufah and shoq ha-terumah mean the breast characterized by the act of elevation and the thigh given as a contribution, respectively. The Sifra, however, disjoins the constructs and treats them as cases of asyndetic coordination. Not “breast of elevation” and “the thigh of contribution” but rather two independent elements. “Breast” is the breast; “of elevation” is the elevation of the basket; “thigh” is the thigh; “of contribution” is the contribution of the thanksgiving offering. The glosses of the first elements are tautologies (“‘Breast’ this is the breast . . . ‘thigh’ this is the thigh”)—what do they mean?13 Certainly, tautology cannot be discounted as a legitimate interpretive technique. In a cultural milieu in which far-reaching interpretation is the norm, an affirmation of the plain sense of a word can constitute a forceful argument. Freud’s famous (and evidently defensive) quip that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar is funny only because the interpretation of the cigar as a phallus is so compelling (the psychoanalytic peshat, so to speak). Glossing “breast” as a breast and “thigh” as a thigh could be meaningful if a compelling alternative reading were thereby rejected. But the Sifra does not claim this, and, absent some reason to think that the sacrificial portions ought be understood figuratively, the tautological affirmations appear trivial. The opposite is true of the second element of the construct phrases. Having pried them from the compound, the Sifra asserts that “of elevation” refers to the elevation of the basket and “of contribution” to the thanksgiving offering. But which basket and which thanksgiving? Consensus is lacking among the Sifra’s commentators. Rabbenu Hillel identifies the basket in both the Tzav and the Shemini pericopes as the basket that is part of the ritual marking the end of a Nazirite’s period of consecration (Num. 6:13–20) and the thanksgiving as the part of the well-being offerings that deal with thanksgiving (Lev. 7:12–15). Pseudo-Rabad distinguishes between the passages. Like Rabbenu Hillel, he identifies the Tzav contribution with Leviticus 7:12–15 but holds that the Tzav basket “appears to refer to the elevation of the bread in the basket and not to the bread that accompanies the ram of the Nazirite or the ram of the consecration of the Tabernacle.”14 But referring to the same passage in Shemini, he writes:



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“Not that there is a basket here or a thanksgiving offering, but rather the repetition of the biblical verse teaches us that the elevated breads of the basket of the Nazirite and of the Tabernacle consecration, and the contribution of the bread of the thanksgiving and that which is elevated from it, all these were eaten throughout Jerusalem as it is written, ‘you may eat in any pure place’” (Lev. 10:14).15 Controversy is a hallmark of rabbinic literature, so divergence among the Sifra’s commentators may not appear remarkable at first glance, but I believe it to be, given the nature and function of glosses. Briefly stated, glosses explicate the meaning of a term by positing a correspondence between it and another term that is usually, but not necessarily, drawn from outside the text. Glosses can be the vehicle for a philological insight, as when a difficult word is glossed with a more familiar one (as with the Mekhilta’s interpretation of Exodus 21:10, above) but can also posit further-reaching correspondences. When the author of 4QMMT writes, “Because Jeru[sa]l[em] is the holy camp, it is the place which He has chosen from among all the tribes of Israel” (4QMMT 2.11–3.1), the equation of the biblical phrase “holy camp” with the city of Jerusalem is nontrivial. And when Philo writes that “the Mind in us— call it Adam—having met with outward Sense, called Eve, the source, we hold, of life to all living bodies, approaches her for their mutual intercourse,”16 he assumes a complex relationship between the biblical text and the philosophical truths that his allegorical glosses posit therein. But even when introducing contested theological or philosophical issues, the rhetorical economy of the gloss (“A is B”) assumes that readers recognize the term being explicated and are familiar with the glossing term (the source term and the target term, as it were), so that they can proceed directly to the merits of the gloss. Readers of 4QMMT are expected to recognize both the phrase “holy camp” and Jerusalem, and Philo’s readers are to recognize Adam and Eve as well as the terms “mind” and “senses,” respectively. This is not to say that readers must accept the logic of the gloss; they may well not. But disputes will center on the assertion that the two elements are identical—this, after all, is where the interpretive work of the gloss takes place—and not on the identity of each element. Not so in the Sifra, whose most dedicated and thoughtful readers, its traditional commentators, cannot agree on the referential identity of the gloss’s discrete elements and whether they are the same in each of the parallel derashot. The particular opacity of these glosses is therefore remarkable: the gloss is, ultimately, nothing other than the introduction of a “B” element, yet later readers cannot securely identify it.17 A similar admixture of tautological and interpretive glosses is found in the Sifra’s discussion of Leviticus 16:33:

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§1.5 “He shall purge the holiest part of the sanctuary [miqdash ­ha-qodesh], and he shall effect purgation for the Tent of Meeting and the altar; for the priests and for all the people of the congregation he shall effect purgation” (Lev. 16:33): “He shall purge the holiest part of the sanctuary”—this is the Holy of Holies [lifnei lefanim]; “Tent of Meeting”—this is the [Temple] hall; “the altar”—this is the altar; “he shall effect purgation”—to the Temple courts as well; “the priests”—these are the priests; “all the people of the congregation”—these are Israel; “he shall effect purgation”—to the Levites as well. (Aḥare Mot pereq 8.8, Weiss 83b; TK 356) Leviticus 16:33 is an appendix to the scapegoat ritual and the yom kippur (Day of Purgation) sacrifices, a summary statement of the purgation duties of the priest. As was the case in §1.4, the glosses differ in their engagement of the biblical source. In some cases, an interpretive argument can be readily (if hypothetically) reconstructed. The phrase miqdash ha-qodesh (“the holiest part of the sanctuary”) is a hapax legomenon and thus hermeneutically marked, and there is a clear linguistic similarity between it and qodesh ha-qodashim, the biblical term for Holy of Holies and counterpart to the rabbinic lifnei lefanim. Other glosses are similarly straightforward: “all the people of the congregation” (another hapax) refers to Israel, and “Tent of Meeting” corresponds to the Temple. Others are less clear. What in the verb yekapper (“he shall effect purgation”) is marked? And what justifies interpreting it twice? Whether the reader can furnish a plausible reconstruction of the relevant hermeneutic marker is secondary to the fact that the succinct concatenation of biblical terms and their glosses structurally precludes detailed justification of each gloss. The Sifra does not feel compelled to communicate to its readers even the most basic principles guiding it—namely, its justification for interpreting a particular verse or term. Allowing, for now, the possibility of an underlying hermeneutic (the iceberg theory), it remains the case that the Sifra is not committed to a rhetoric of hermeneutic markedness.

The Accusative Particle (ʾEt) What of the derashot that do offer explicit guidance with regard to their interpretive practices? We saw above that according to Genesis Rabbah, ʾet is one of Rabbi Akiva’s inclusion markers. The standard account of ʾet as a hermeneutic



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marker involves its inconsistent employment in the Bible, as when Genesis states that “Abraham took the wood [ʾet ha-ʿetz] for the burnt offering” (Gen. 22:6) and two verses later, Abraham tells Isaac that “God will show us [sans ʾet] the lamb for the burnt offering” (Gen. 22:8). If so, goes the argument, the accusative particle is syntactically superfluous and, as such, hermeneutically marked.18 Other scholars argue that Rabbi Akiva understood these words to be suffused with meaning, as when Moshe Halbertal writes: “Exposition of prepositions and conjunctions such as et and gam, which are attributed to Rabbi Akiba and his school, are an expression of the semantic fullness of the text.”19 But for all its post-tannaitic fame, ʾet’s role in the Sifra is far from clear. For one thing, the Sifra often ignores ʾet altogether: i. “He shall burn [ʾet] the fabric, or [ʾet] the warp, or [ʾet] the woof, whether in wool or linen.” (Lev. 13:52) ii. “He shall demolish [ʾet] the house, and [ʾet] its stones, and [ʾet] its timber, and [ʾet] all the mortar of the house.” (Lev. 14:45) These are but two of many verses that contain ʾet that the Sifra discusses at length,20 with no mention of the accusative particle. While there are a number of derashot whose prooftext includes ʾet, it is never clear that the accusative particle is the relevant element. Some commentators argue that the Sifra interprets the ʾet in Leviticus 2:8: §1.6 “If you bring to the Lord [ʾet] a cereal offering prepared in any of these ways, it shall be presented to the priest, who shall deliver it to the altar” (Lev. 2:8): Might it be that only the handful [of sacrificial cereal offering] requires presentation to the priest? Whence do we include the cereal offering? Scripture teaches, saying “a cereal offering.” Whence do we include all cereal offerings? Scripture teaches, saying “ʾet a cereal offering.” (Nedavah parashah 11.1, Weiss 11a–b; TK 46) Here the Sifra learns that Leviticus 2:8 refers to all types of cereal offerings from the accusative particle in “ʾet a cereal offering.” However, in Assemani 66, ʾet is preceded by the letter vav. This is a difficult reading if the derashah originated at Leviticus 2:8, since the vav is not attested in the Masoretic text of this verse. However, it is possible that the derashah was originally associated with a verse that reads “ve-ʾet a cereal offering” (for example, Lev. 14:20),

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and was later moved to Leviticus 2:8, a common occurrence in rabbinic literature.21 Other derashot do interpret ve-ʾet: §1.7 “And all of [ve-ʾet kol] the suet of the bull” (Lev. 4:8): To include the suet of the bull of yom ha-kippurim [the Day of Purgation] concerning the suet that covers the two kidneys and the caudate lobe on the liver. (Ḥovah pereq 4.1, Weiss 18c; TK 78) §1.8 Whence that the blood of the reparation offering that became mixed with the blood of a well-being offering is to be dashed? Scripture teaches, saying, “he shall dash its blood [ve-ʾet ha-dam] [against all sides of the altar]” (Lev. 7:1–2). (Tzav parashah 4.2, Weiss 33c; TK 148) Each derashah offers other candidates as the basis for ribbui. In §1.7, the opening vav or the word kol, “all,” might generate the inclusion gloss; in §1.8, the opening vav or, more remotely, the phrase qodesh qodashim that occurs earlier in the verse. A similar situation holds in the Sifra’s interpretation of Leviticus 25:14: §1.9 “[When you make a sale to your neighbor or buy from your neighbor,] no man [ʾish] shall cheat [ʾet] his brother” (Lev. 25:14): From this I know only regarding a man cheating a man. Whence regarding a man cheating a woman or a woman cheating a man or a woman cheating a woman? Scripture teaches, saying “ʾet his brother”—in any case. (Behar parashah 3.9, Weiss 107d; MS New York 137b) This inclusion argument may be based on the presence of the accusative particle, but commentators have suggested other explanations. Apothaker writes: “Scripture specifies ‘his fellow’ [with MT’s ʾakhiv read midrashically as ʾekhav, the plural ‘fellows’ implying that the rule applies to both sexes].”22 Chana Safrai and Avital Campbell Hochstein offer the opposite interpretation—that ʾish and ʾakhiv, inasmuch as both refer to men, jointly exclude women.23 The Malbim, in an altogether different approach, suggests that the derashah is generated by the word ʾish.24 I do not see any way to decide the matter, except to note the possibility that ʾet is not interpreted in any Sifra derashah, and, if it is, the interpretation is less consistent and more ambiguous than later sources (both rabbinic and scholarly) would lead us to expect.



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Suffixed ʾEt The Sifra engages the suffixed forms of ʾet more fully than the unsuffixed, with numerous derashot built on ʾotah, ʾotam, and the like. §1.10 “He shall flay the burnt offering and quarter it [ʾotah] into quarters” (Lev. 1:6): Might it be that he quarters the quarters? Scripture teaches, saying ʾotah, he quarters “it” [ʾotah] and does not quarter its quarters. Might it be that the ritually unfit animal requires flaying and quartering? Scripture teaches, saying “it” [ʾotah], the ritually fit and not the ritually unfit. (Nedavah pereq 5.7, Weiss 7a; TK 24) According to the Sifra, the word ʾotah in the phrase “he shall flay . . . it [ʾotah] into quarters” instructs the reader to reject the interpretation that the priest engages in an ongoing process of quartering the quarters. The priest quarters only the burnt offering proper—he quarters it and nothing else. Here, ʾet clearly functions as a hermeneutic marker, perhaps because it is superflusous: the direct object could have been affixed to the verb. As the Malbim writes: Sometimes [Scripture] marks the object through a pronominal suffix—for example, “The priest shall present it [veheqrivo] to the altar” (Lev. 1:15) or “He shall slaughter [u-sheḥaṭo] at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting” (Lev. 3:2); and other times through a suffixed form of ʾet, as in “he shall slaughter it [ve-shaḥaṭ ʾoto]” (Lev. 3:8) and “he shall offer them [ve-heqriv ʾotam]” (Lev. 14:12), and “he shall turn them into smoke [ve-heqṭir ʾotam]” (Lev. 7:5). Anyone who believes in the sanctity of our Torah and in the glory of the Holy Tongue understands that it is impossible for this to be a matter of happenstance, driven by the whims of the author.25 Since direct objecthood can be expressed morphologically, as a suffix, the ­Bible’s use of suffixed ʾet is marked and therefore justifies rabbinic intervention. And the Sifra does indeed employ suffixed ʾet forms regularly as the anchor for exclusion interpretations: §1.11 “When the priest sees [the scale disease], he shall pronounce him [ʾoto] impure” (Lev. 13:3): [The priest] pronounces him [ʾoto]

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impure but does not pronounce impure him who tears the marks of impurity from his affection [negaʿ]. (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 2.10, Weiss 61a; TK 254) §1.12 “If [a skin discoloration] has spread on the skin, the priest shall pronounce him [ʾoto] impure” (Lev. 13:22): [The priest] pronounces the one whose status is certain impure but does not pronounce impure one whose status is in doubt. (Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 4.8, Weiss 64d; TK 268) §1.13 “[If anyone offers up a burnt offering or a well-being offering and] does not bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to offer it [ʾoto] to the Lord” (Lev. 17:8–9): Might it be that one who offers less than an olive’s worth of the burnt offering or less than an olive’s worth of the offerings made on the altar [ʾimurim] or less than an olive’s worth of the scooped handful or less than three log 26 of water27 or less than three log of wine [as a libation] is liable? Scripture teaches, saying “it” [ʾoto]. He is considered liable for an entire [offering] but not for a partial one. (Aḥare Mot pereq 10.8, Weiss 84b; TK 362) In each of these derashot, the suffixed ʾet anchors an interpretation that limits the scope of the biblical injunction, in keeping with Malbim’s argument. Still, it should be noted that, like their unsuffixed brethren, many instances of suffixed ʾet are passed over without interpretation. The interpretation of “he quarters ʾotah [it] and does not quarter its quarters” in Leviticus 1:6 follows closely on the following command: “If his offering is a burnt offering from the herd, he shall offer [yaqrivenu] a male without blemish. He shall bring it [yaqriv ʾoto] to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting, for acceptance on his behalf before the Lord” (Lev. 1:3). Though the Sifra discusses the verse in detail,28 it does not interpret the phrase yaqriv ʾoto. This omission is particularly striking, since the verse contains two sacrificial instructions that employ the hiphʿil pattern of q-r-v: “he shall offer a male” and “he shall bring it to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.” The first marks the direct object by a suffix appended to the verb (yaqrivenu), the second by a suffixed ʾet (yaqriv ʾoto). In other words, the verse should be the parade example for Malbim’s explanation of ʾet’s markedness; yet the Sifra passes over both forms without comment.



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Pronouns as Hermeneutic Markers Pronouns, like any part of speech, may be extraneous or redundant to a verse and thus cast as hermeneutically marked. Thus, the Mekhilta: “In the middle of the night the Lord struck down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt . . . and Pharaoh arose in the night he and all his courtiers and all the Egyptians” (Exod. 12:29–30): By “in the night,” I might understand that he was awakened by princes and princesses, but Scripture teaches, saying “he.” (Mekhilta Pisḥa 13, Horovitz-Rabin, 44; Lauterbach 1:99)29 The interpretation hinges on a syntactically unwarranted element, the pronoun “he,” which is not necessary for the verse to communicate its meaning. .‫ויקם פרעה לילה הוא וכל עבדיו וכל מצרים‬ And Pharaoh arose in the night he and all his courtiers and all the Egyptians. According to the Mekhilta, the redundant pronoun is intended to emphasize the unusual manner (for monarchs, that is) in which Pharaoh arose. Rather than having the Egyptian courtiers rouse Pharaoh from his sleep, as presumably is the case on other days, Pharaoh is jarred awake by the anguished cry of his countrymen. His courtiers, the symbol of his royal power, have been replaced by a force beyond his control.30 Though the derashah is aggadic (and so stands outside the standard division of Rabbi Ishmael versus Rabbi Akiva sources), it conforms to the interpretive principles found in the halakhic midrashim of Rabbi Ishmael: a word may legitimately anchor an interpretation if it is extraneous, that is, “freed up” of meaning. Does the Sifra follow the same logic? In some cases, the answer appears to be affirmative, most clearly with pronominal clauses that re-identify the sacrificial or cultic category under discussion. Leviticus 5 sets forth the rules of the purification offering (ḥaṭaʾt). The topic is introduced in verses 5–6 (“When he feels guilt in any of these matters . . . he shall bring as his reparation to the Lord . . . a purification offering”) but is identified again in verses 9 (“it is a purification offering [ḥaṭaʾt huʾ])” and 12 (“it is a purification offering [ḥaṭaʾt huʾ]”).

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Grammarians of biblical Hebrew generally explain these restatements as ellipses of ki ḥaṭaʾt huʾ (“for it is a purification offering”) or a similar explanatory phrase,31 but the Sifra takes them to be (marked) redundancies. Why repeat “it is a purification offering” in verses 9 and 12? Presumably, to include some detail omitted by Leviticus: “huʾ—excepting if its neck was broken not for the purpose intended [she-loʾ li-shemo]” (Ḥovah pereq 18.9, Weiss 24d; TK 112) and “hiʾ—excepting if the handful was scooped not for the purpose intended” (Ḥovah pereq 19.9, Weiss 25b; TK 113). But consider the laws governing the white skin discolorations known as beharot: §1.14 “If the shiny marks on the skin of the body are dull white, it is a rash32 [bohaq huʾ] that has broken out on the skin; it is pure [ṭahor huʾ]”33 (Lev. 13:39): Might [the priest] purify the skin discoloration that is adjacent to it? Scripture teaches, saying “it [is pure] [(ṭahor) huʾ].” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 10.1, Weiss 67a; TK 275) At first glance, the markedness appears to be tied to the repetition of huʾ in the phrases bohaq huʾ and ṭahor huʾ, and the Sifra argues that the second, extraneous, huʾ teaches that only the discoloration under discussion is pure—not one adjacent to it. But closer examination reveals that the phrase ṭahor huʾ is a necessary component of the verse because it identifies the referent of “pure.” Here is the biblical phrase: .‫בהק הוא פרח בעור טהור הוא‬ [I]t is a rash that has broken out on the skin; it is pure. Here is the phrase without the final huʾ: .‫*בהק הוא פרח בעור טהור הוא‬ *[I]t is a rash that has broken out on the pure skin. Sans huʾ, the adjective ṭahor (“pure”) modifies the skin, rather than the site of the shiny mark (or the person suffering the skin blemish). The pronoun distinguishes two different statements: “it is a rash that has broken out on the skin; it is pure” and *“it is a rash that has broken out on the pure skin.”



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So while the Sifra is fairly consistent in its engagement of emphatic pronouns, it employs a rhetoric of hermeneutic markedness even when the pronoun is integral to the meaning of the verse, and should not—at least by the standards of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim—count as marked.

Repetition Leviticus 17 presents a number of laws governing sacrifice: it is prohibited to spill sacrificial blood other than at the Tent of Meeting (v. 4); when a sacrifice is brought to the Tent of Meeting, the priest is to splash the blood of the animal onto the altar (v. 6); any person who makes a sacrifice or a burnt offering elsewhere shall be cut off from his people (v. 9). The chapter continues: §1.15 “And if anyone [ʾish ʾish] [lit., ‘person person’] of the house of Israel or of the alien 34 who resides among them ingests any blood [kol dam]” (Lev. 17:10): “Israel”—this is Israel; “Alien”—these are the aliens; “Who resides” to include [lerabbot] the wives of the aliens; “Among them” to include women and slaves. If so, why is “person person” stated? Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon says: “To introduce [lehaviʾ] the offspring of an Israelite women from a Gentile or from a slave.” (Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2, Weiss 84c; TK 363) Leviticus prohibits ingesting blood, and the Sifra expands the scope of the prohibition (and subsequent punishment), even though the verse is inclusive from the outset, addressing “anyone of the house of Israel or of the aliens who reside among them.” The derashah exhibits many of the difficulties discussed earlier.35 The present focus, however, is on the repetition ʾish ʾish, whose hermeneutic markedness is indicated by the Sifra’s question: “If so, why is ʾish ʾish stated?” Though biblical grammarians will question whether this repetition counts as a redundancy,36 it is certainly plausible that the Sifra would see it as a phrase that invites the rabbinic reader to introduce elements not enumerated in Scripture. But just a few verses earlier, we find: §1.16 “If anyone [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel slaughters an ox or sheep or goat in the camp, or does so outside the camp” (Lev. 17:3): Might it be that one who slaughters the purification offering in the

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south is liable? Scripture teaches, saying “outside the camp” (Aḥare Mot parashah 6.3, Weiss 83c; TK, 358) Now, if ʾish ʾish generates an inclusion argument in Leviticus 17:10, then precisely the same phrase playing precisely the same syntactic role in Leviticus 17:3 should generate an inclusion (or some other) argument—but it does not.37 Inconsistency of this type is quite common in the Sifra—for example, with the word nefesh (“person”), which is often interpreted as a limiting term that designates an individual in contradistinction to the community: “‘that person [nefesh] shall be cut off from its kin’ (Lev. 7:20): but not the community” (Tzav pereq 14.7, Weiss 38a; TK 167). Yet many verses that contain nefesh are not interpreted—for example, Lev. 5:1; 5:2; 5:4; 5:17; 7:21; 7:27 (x 2); 19:8; 22:3; and 22:6. The expectation of consistency may appear pedantic—surely, the Sifra can be allowed some leeway in choosing when to interpret and when to refrain from interpreting. But, in fact, this matter lies at the very heart of hermeneutic markedness. As I argued at length in Scripture as Logos,38 the underlying motivation for establishing a marked element in the biblical text is to present the rabbinic interpretation as sanctioned by Scripture—to frame the decision to interpret a verse not as a rabbinic initiative but rather as a rabbinic response to a textual irregularity. This can be achieved in different ways, and it is certainly possible for readers (or schools) to differ on the identity of hermeneutic markers. But whatever elements are admitted as markers must function in this capacity consistently. If they do not, the specter of arbitrary interpretation resurfaces, merely at one remove—why does the rabbi count a phrase as hermeneutically marked in one instance but not in the other?—thereby shifting agency back to the human interpreter. For hermeneutic markedness to be meaningfully implemented, then, the midrash must represent Scripture as speaking to readers through consistent mechanisms (repetitions such as ʾish ʾish, optional use of the accusative particle, redundant pronouns, and so forth), and readers responding to these markers. But the Sifra does not do so.

Conclusion The findings of this chapter defy facile characterization. The Sifra repeatedly refers to scriptural elements as the basis for its interpretations and identifies specific terms as hermeneutic markers (“ʾotah and hiʾ are markers of exclusion”), giving the impression of a firm commitment to hermeneutic markedness. At the



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same time, it is difficult to say to what, if anything, in the verse many derashot are responding. And even some of the established markers are employed inconsistently. So while the Sifra appears to accept the principle of hermeneutic markedness, its employment is often obscure. At this point, then, it is difficult to draw firm conclusions regarding the Sifra’s initial engagement of Scripture. We turn to examine the interpretive canons that it applies to a verse, once engaged.

Chapter 2

The Sifra as Midrash: Vacuity and Semantic Discontinuity

You desire much ribbui. —Śar Torah §2871

Discussing the Sifra’s interpretation of Leviticus 17:10 (§1.15, above), the commentary attributed to Rabbi Shimshon of Sens plainly states: “Many are perplexed by these ribbuyim [inclusions].”2 And for good reason. The verse in question is a prohibition addressed to both the Israelites and the non-Israelite aliens in their midst: “If anyone [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel or of the alien who reside among them ingests any blood I will set my face against that person.” The Sifra, however, dramatically expands the verse’s scope, linking each word or phrase to a different social group thereby subsumed under the biblical prohibition: “who reside” includes the wives of aliens; “among them” includes women and slaves; and ʾish ʾish includes the offspring of an Israelite woman from a Gentile or a slave.3 How do these biblical phrases indicate what the Sifra attributes to them? The perplexity of pseudo-Sens is rooted in the gap between the language of Scripture and the conclusions that the Sifra draws from it. How does the Sifra reach these conclusions? As with hermeneutic markers, there is a broad scholarly consensus that the Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael midrashim are engaged in a fundamentally similar enterprise, but each admits different interpretive canons: ribbui and miʿuṭ (inclusion and exclusion) for the former; and kelal u- feraṭ (“a general statement followed by a particular instance”) for the latter.4 However, a close examination of the Sifra reveals two perplexing phenomena: derashot that are rhetorically midrashic



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but whose arguments do not meaningfully advance beyond the plain sense of the verse, a phenomenon I designate “midrashic vacuity”; and, noted by pseudo-Sens, the at times yawning gap between the biblical verse and the ­Sifra’s conclusion—which I refer to as “semantic discontinuity.”

Midrashic Vacuity In Chapter 1, we saw a number of tautological derashot that appear to add no information to the biblical verse (“‘Breast’ this is the breast . . . ‘thigh’ this is the thigh”). These are extreme examples of the midrashic vacuity of the Sifra, in which a derashah fails to provide information not already found in the verse. Some vacuous derashot appear to be little more than rhetorically robust tautologies: §2.1 “[If the shiny marks on the skin of the body are dull white, it is] a rash . . . is pure [bohaq . . . ṭahor]”5 (Lev. 13:39): “a rash is pure” this instructs that a rash is pure. (Tazriʿa pereq 10.1, Weiss 67a; TK 275) How, precisely, does “a rash is pure” instruct that a rash is pure? Do these words not simply denote this state of affairs? Note that the Sifra here reworks the language of Leviticus to produce the phrase “a rash is pure” (bohaq ṭahor), paving the way for the tautological gloss bohaq ṭahor—melammed she-ha-­ bohaq ṭahor. A similarly vacuous derashah occurs in the context of the priestly procedures concerning the cereal offering cited in Chapter 1: §1.6 “If you bring to the Lord a cereal offering prepared in any of these ways, it shall be presented to the priest, who shall deliver it to the altar” (Lev. 2:8): Whence [minayin] do we include the cereal offering? Scripture teaches, saying “a cereal offering.” (Nedavah parashah 11.1, Weiss 11a–b; TK 46) The Sifra’s rhetoric (“whence do we include the cereal offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘a cereal offering’”) implies that interpretation has taken place. The derashah employs a standard midrashic formula, minayin . . . talmud lomar, that presents itself as responding to an issue in the verse. But there is no need to “include” the cereal offering from the biblical phrase “a cereal offering”; it is selfevidently there.

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Some derashot are semantically vacuous insofar as their conclusions are little more than restatements of the verse. Three such derashot occur in the Sifra’s commentary to Leviticus 11, in verses that set forth the ritual status of all or every variety of an animal, and a fourth responds to Leviticus 2:11: §2.2 “[The following you shall abominate among the birds] Every raven [kol ʿorev] according to its variety” (Lev. 11:13–15): “Raven”— this refers to the raven. “Every raven” includes the raven of the valley and the raven that moves in advance of the doves. (Shemini pereq 5.4, Weiss 50c; TK 211–212) §2.3 “[The following shall be impure for you] large lizards according to their variety” (Lev. 11:29): “Large lizards—these are the large lizards; “according to their variety”—to include varieties of large lizards, the ḥabarbar, the water lizard [ben ha-nefilim], and the salamander. (Shemini parashah 5.7, Weiss 52b; TK 218) §2.4 “[These are the instructions regarding quadrupeds, birds,] and all [ve-khol] living creatures that move in the water” (Lev. 11:46): to introduce the fish. (Shemini pereq 12.6, Weiss 57b; TK 240) §2.5 “And every [kol] cereal offering that you offer to the Lord shall not be made leavened” (Lev. 2:11): I know only regarding cereal offerings whose remainder may be eaten, whence regarding cereal offerings whose remainder is not eaten? Scripture teaches, saying “And every cereal offering that you offer to the Lord.” (Nedavah parashah 12.2, Weiss 11d; TK 49) Three of the derashot (§2.2, §2.4, and §2.5) are based on kol (“all” or “every”), the word that generates the kelal u-feraṭ (“a general statement followed by a particular instance”) formulas in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.6 When Scripture uses kol to introduce a general category, and then provides specific instances of same, kelal u-feraṭ asserts that the category is coterminous with the enumerated instances. A kindred formula, also generated by the word kol, holds that members of the category are essentially similar to the enumerated instances but not coterminous with them.7 On the surface, then, derashot §2.2, §2.4, and §2.5 are similar to one of the interpretive canons of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim. But the surface similarity is deceiving in two ways. First, as I showed in my earlier study, the overall thrust of the Rabbi Ishmael canons is restrictive, limiting the possibilities inherent in “all” or “every,” whereas the Sifra maintains and emphasizes them.8 Second, and



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29

more important, enumerating some members of the category “every raven” or “all living creatures that live in the water” is not a midrashic “inclusion” but rather the core semantic sense of kol. While it might be argued that in some derashot, the included elements are peripheral enough that their inclusion might not be self-evident (“the raven that moves in advance of the doves”), §2.4 plainly demonstrates that this need not be the case: concluding that “all living creatures that move in the water” includes fish is not interpretation; it is reading.

Fort-Da Derashot A rhetorically more complex midrashic vacuity can be seen in the following: §2.6 “Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall dash the blood against all sides of the altar” (Lev. 3:2): Might this refer to non-priests? Scripture teaches, saying “the priests,” precluding the lay persons. (Nedavah parashah 4.6, Weiss 6b; TK 21) The opening verses of Leviticus 3 deal with a well-being offering of herd animals, collaboratively undertaken by the layperson and the priest: the layperson chooses an unblemished animal, brings it to the Tent of Meeting, lays his hand on its head, and kills it, at which point “Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall dash the blood against all sides of the altar.” The shift from lay to sacerdotal agency is significant, and the Sifra’s thematization of the shift coheres with the biblical narrative. But the mechanics of the argument are obscure as the derashah merely cites the word “priests” and asserts the analytically true fact that priests are not laypersons. Similar derashot include: §2.7 “[If it is] the anointed priest [who does the wrong]” (Lev. 4:3): “Anointed”—might this refer to the king? Scripture teaches, saying “priest.” (Ḥovah parashah 2.6, Weiss 16d–17a; TK 72) §2.8 “[And if anyone from among the Children of Israel or any alien who resides among them hunts down an animal or] a bird that may be eaten” (Lev. 17:13): I know only regarding a bird that may be eaten, whence regarding an animal that may be eaten? Scripture teaches, saying “an animal or a bird that may be eaten.” (Aḥare pereq 11.4, Weiss 84c; TK 364)

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In the first of these derashot, the Sifra seeks to clarify, if that is the appropriate term, the identity of the agent of Leviticus 4:3–4: “If it is the anointed priest who does wrong . . . he shall bring a bull to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.” According to the Sifra, the difficulty lies with the phrase “anointed priest” or, more precisely, with the word “anointed” taken in isolation from that phrase. Since biblical kings, too, are anointed with oil, might the adjective modify a king? No, comes the reply, since the phrase is, in fact, “anointed priest”— thus we learn that it is a priest, and not a king, to whom Leviticus refers. Derashah §2.8 performs a similar maneuver on the phrase “an animal or a bird” in the prohibition against ingesting blood. Though Leviticus refers to “an animal or a bird,” the Sifra ignores the first element of the pair and asks whether the instruction refers only to a bird. To resolve this difficulty, it re­ introduces the reference to the animal. The result: the phrase “an animal or a bird” refers to animals as well as birds. These derashot are the hermeneutic equivalent of the fort-da game that Freud describes in Beyond the Pleasure Principle.9 In a famous passage, Freud’s grandson Ernst hurls a wooden rod out of his bed and pulls it back with an attached string. When the toy is gone, he says oh, and when it reappears—da, which Freud interprets as fort (“away”) and da (“here”), respectively. The child’s game consists of making the toy disappear and then reappear. Freud interpreted this game as young Ernst’s attempt to fortify his sense of the permanence of objects even when not visible, a pressing concern, as his mother had recently returned to working full-time. The Sifra appears to be engaged in a similar fort-da game with the biblical verse. It hurls an element of the verse out of sight—the word “priest” in Leviticus 4:3 or “animal” in Leviticus 17:13—and then examines the situation: Might one verse refer to a non-priest? Might the other refer to a bird but not an animal? The Sifra then reels the word back in and uses it as a prooftext to demonstrate that the verse does, in fact, refer to a priest and to animals. The word is gone, fort, and then da!—it is present. But nothing in my study suggests that the Sifra is reenacting the repeated departure and return of its mother. What, then, is it trying to accomplish? One possible answer is that derashot of this kind are driven by tzerikhutaʾ, the idea that every word in Scripture is necessary and therefore serves an interpretive function. If so, the argument goes, the fort-da derashot demonstrate that each word in the verse is necessary. In §2.7, for example, the assertion that “anointed” could refer to a king demonstrates the necessity of the word “priest.” This is an attractive, well-established argument, and one might press for its acceptance for §2.7, but it is clearly insufficient for §2.6; for Leviticus 3:2 (“Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall dash the blood against all sides of the altar”) was never in



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danger of being interpreted as referring to non-priests, given that the phrase “Aaron’s sons” establishes their sacerdotal identity at the outset. Similarly, in §2.8, there is no way to claim that the verse sans the word “animal” leads to a misreading without falling into bald solipsism; for the only possible sense of this claim is that without “animal” in the phrase “an animal or a bird,” the inclusion of animals would not be known. But this is nothing more than the simple statement of the scope of the law.10 Although the tzerikhutaʾ assumption is a mainstay of amoraic hermeneutics, where it is applied both to Scripture and to the Mishnah,11 it is not clear that the tannaim knew it. It is plainly opposed by the Ishmaelian notion of hermeneutic markedness, which insists that a word be engaged if, and only if, Scripture has invited this course of action, rather than a blanket assumption that all biblical words are to be interpreted. It is further belied by Yonatan Sagiv’s demonstration that the named Sifra derashot were concerned with a relatively limited set of Leviticus passages—a selective approach incongruent with the notion that every biblical word is (and ought be shown to be) ­midrashically significant. The tzerikhutaʾ hypothesis, then, fails in two ways: it does not explain the derashot; and, moreover, it is not clear that the ideas that underlie it are operative in tannaitic literature.

Semantic Discontinuity Ribbui (“Inclusion”) A second difficulty encountered repeatedly in the Sifra is semantic discontinuity between the biblical verse and the teaching to which it is linked. Leviticus 22 opens with a survey of the types of impurity that disqualify a priest from approaching God’s presence and from eating the sacred donations: scale disease, chronic discharge, seminal emission, and so on. Verse 5 specifies two types: “if a man touches any swarming thing by which he is made impure or any human being by whom he is made impure whatever his impurity”—that man remains in a state of impurity until he has washed and the sun has set. The Sifra comments: §2.9 “Swarming thing”—I know only regarding the swarming thing, whence do I include the carcass? Scripture teaches, saying “any swarming thing”; “by which he is made impure”—to include the measures;12 “human being”—this refers to a corpse; “his impurity”—to include men suffering from genital discharge, and women who are suffering from genital discharge, or who are menstruants

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or parturients. From this I know only regarding their light days [qulan], whence regarding their strict days [ḥomran]? Scripture teaches, saying “whatever his impurity”; “by whom he is made impure”—to include one who has intercourse with a menstruant; “by whom”—to include one who swallows the carcass of a pure bird. (ʾEmor pereq 4.4, Weiss 96c–d; TK 428) Some issues in this derashah are familiar. The Sifra does not justify the interpretation of these biblical words in terms of hermeneutic markedness, and it remains silent as to what about the lexemes “his impurity” or “by whom” marks them as suited for interpretation. It is also worth noting that several arguments are rendered obsolete by the inclusive language of the verse: “any swarming thing . . . any human . . . whatever his impurity . . . any of these” (Lev. 22:5–6). With such an inclusive biblical statement, what need is there for midrashic expansion? The focus of the present discussion, however, is the semantic discontinuity between the specified elements of the verse and the legal conclusion. On what basis has the Sifra determined that “any swarming thing” refers to animal carcasses, or “his impurity” to the unwieldy category of “men suffering from genital discharge, and women who are suffering from genital discharge, or are menstruants or parturients”? Is there semantic or thematic continuity between “he is made impure” and the case of one who has had intercourse with a menstruant? I have not been able to find one, nor have generations of Sifra commentators. There is no question that a ribbui that cites “by whom” as the justification for including the category of one who swallows the carcass of a pure bird, is operating with different assumptions from most modern (and medieval) readers. The pressing question is whether there is an interpretive dynamic here at all.13 One indication that there is not is the internal inconsistency with which the Sifra engages biblical terms. §2.10 “The Lord spoke to Moses, saying . . . Whenever any person [ʾish ʾish] from the house of Israel or from the aliens in Israel presents an offering . . . you shall not present any that has a blemish” (Lev. 22:17–20): “Israel”—this is Israel; “alien”—these are the aliens; “the alien”—to include the wives of the aliens; “in Israel”—to include women and slaves. If so, why is ʾish ʾish stated? To include the ­Gentiles, that they be held accountable on matters of vows and freewill offerings like Israel. (ʾEmor parashah 7.1, Weiss 98a; TK 434) Both the biblical passage and the Sifra’s discussion are similar to §1.15, the only differences being that here, “in Israel” includes women and slaves, and ʾish ʾish



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includes Gentiles, who are to “be held accountable on matters of vows and freewill offerings like Israel,” while in §1.15, “among them” introduces women and slaves, and ʾish ʾish the children of unions between Israelite women and Gentile or slave men. Since the Sifra does not discuss the mechanism by which it reaches either conclusion, the reader is left to wonder how two occurrences of the same biblical phrase can appear in near-identical derashot and yet yield one set of conclusions in Aḥare Mot and another in ʾEmor. The difficulty is exacerbated when we observe that numerous derashot interpret ʾish ʾish, with little commonality between the (underlined) conclusions: §2.11 “And if anyone [ʾish ʾish] from among the children of Israel or any alien who resides among them hunts down an animal or a bird that may be eaten, he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth” (Lev. 17:13). Whence do I learn regarding one who purchases, inherits, or receives [an animal or a bird] as a present? Scripture teaches, saying ʾish ʾish. (Aḥare Mot pereq 11.1, Weiss 84c; TK 364) §2.12 “When any man [ʾish ʾish] has a discharge” (Lev. 15:2): From this I learn only regarding the man [ʾish], whence do I include the woman and the minor? Scripture teaches, saying ʾish ʾish. These are the words of Rabbi Judah.14 (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 1.1, Weiss 74d; TK 311) §2.13 “No one [ʾish ʾish] shall approach anyone of his own flesh to uncover nakedness” (Lev. 18:6):Why does [Scripture] state ʾish ʾish? To include the Gentiles, who are warned against sexual transgressions when among the Israelites. (Aḥare Mot pereq 13.1, Weiss 85d; TK 370) §2.14 “If any man [ʾish ʾish] dishonors his father or his mother, he must be put to death” (Lev. 20:9): From this I learn only regarding the man [ʾish], whence do I include the woman? Scripture teaches, saying ʾish ʾish. (Qedoshim pereq 9.8, Weiss 92a; TK 411) §2.15 “Any man [ʾish ʾish] from among the Israelites or among the aliens residing in Israel, who dedicates any of his offspring to Molek, must be put to death” (Lev. 20:2): If so, why was ʾish ʾish stated? To introduce the Gentiles, that those who transgress the laws of sexual conduct legislated by the nations be judged by the laws of the nations, but those who transgress the laws of sexual conduct legislated by Israel be judged by the laws of Israel. (Qedoshim parashah 10.1–2, Weiss 91b; TK 409) §2.16 “Anyone [ʾish ʾish] who curses his God shall bear his punishment” (Lev. 24:15): Why does [Scripture] state ʾish ʾish? To include

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the Gentiles, who may be executed for blasphemy but only by the sword, since capital punishment was not granted to the sons of Noah. (ʾEmor pereq 19.4, Weiss 104d; TK 466) The legal entities included by ʾish ʾish are disparate: discrete groups such as “the Gentiles” or “women”; blended groups (“women and minors”); and particular legal scenarios, such as a person who receives or purchases an edible animal or bird rather than hunting it.15 How can the same marker produce such different conclusions? In certain instances, the same biblical element may even give rise to incompatible derashot: §2.17 “And when a woman [ve-ʾisha] [has a discharge]” (Lev. 15:19): Except a minor. But perhaps I exclude one of three years and one day? Scripture teaches, saying, “And when a woman.” (Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 6.7, Weiss 78a; TK 326) The Sifra begins its commentary to Leviticus 15:19 with an exclusion argument (“woman” excludes a minor), immediately qualified by the assertion (presumably based on the vav) that the exclusion does not extend to girls once they have reached the age of three years and one day. A few short lines later, we read: §2.18 “And when a woman [ve-ʾisha] [has a discharge]” (Lev. 15:19): I know only regarding a mature woman, whence to include the minor? Scripture teaches, saying “And when a woman.” (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 4.1, Weiss 78a; TK 326) The structure of the derashah is similar to that of its predecessor: a limited interpretation of the verse is supplanted by a more expansive reading—again, presumably based on the initial vav. But the included element of §2.18 is the minor, the very element excluded in §2.17.16 It is at this point that the iceberg theory begins to show signs of stress. For the claim that the Sifra (or Rabbi Akiva’s midrash more broadly) is governed by hermeneutic rules hidden beneath the reader’s line of vision to be meaningful, the effects of these rules—the Sifra’s derashot—must display some underlying regularity. No matter how deeply submerged, it must be a single iceberg, producing rule-governed effects.17 The above derashot call such claims into question, since it is not clear how the same biblical term could generate such disparate and even contradictory conclusions. A proponent of the iceberg theory might argue



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that the ribbui is consistent in that it regularly broadens the scope of the biblical verse, while the specific conclusions are determined by the biblical context, thereby explaining the disparity. But this claim is weakened, perhaps undone altogether, by derashot that offer several inclusion arguments in a single derashah: §2.19 “[If his offering for a burnt offering is] from (min) the flock, or of (min) sheep or of (min) goats” (Lev. 1:10): Rabbi Eliezer says: “What is the instruction in saying ‘from the flock, or of sheep or of goats’? To include the substitution offering . . . whence to include (i) the surplus of the purification offering (ii) and the surplus of guilt offerings, (iii) the surplus of the tenth of the ʾefah, (iv) the surplus of the bird offerings of men suffering from genital discharge, (v) the surplus of the bird offerings of women suffering from genital discharge, (vi) the surplus of the bird offerings of women who have given birth, (vii) the surplus of the offerings of the Nazirite and the leper; (viii) and one who dedicates his property to the Temple (ix) and they included things fit for sacrifice—wines and oils and birds—whence that these should be sold and the funds used for burnt offerings? Scripture teaches, saying ‘from the flock, of sheep or of goats,’ to include all these cases.” (Nedavah parashah 5.4, Weiss 7d; TK 27–28) The Sifra does not state its issue with Leviticus 1:10, but presumably the phrase “of the flock, or of sheep or of goats” is understood as redundant (or perhaps the repetition of the preposition min, “of”?) and thus a biblical marker of ­ribbui.18 What is striking is the number and variety of offerings that the derashah introduces on the basis of this syntactic inelegance. This is a fairly common procedure in the Sifra:19 §2.20 “And fabric, when mold disease occurs in it” (Lev. 13:47): whence do I learn to include (i) mixed fabrics? Scripture teaches, saying: “and fabric” . . . what of (ii) fabrics in which the mixture is found throughout it? . . . How do I know that I should include (iii) a mixture that is only partially mixed? Scripture teaches, saying: “and fabric.”… But what about (iv) [the susceptibility of] fabric in which are not three-by-three fingerbreadths of woven stuff? Scripture teaches, saying: “and fabric.” regarding the garment, I know only about one in which there is room for spreading. How do I know regarding (iv) one in which there is not room for spreading?

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Scripture teaches, saying: “and fabric.” These are the words of Rabbi Eliezer. (Tazriʿa pereq 13.1–2, Weiss 68b; TK 280–281) §2.21 “Every man among the offspring of Aaron the priest who has a blemish shall not be qualified to offer the Lord gifts; having a blemish, he shall not be qualified to offer the food of his God” (Lev. 21:21): Whence regarding (i) the black-skinned [lit., Kushite] (ii) and the blotchy [giḥer] (iii) and the albino, (iv) and the hunchback (v) and the midget, (vi) and the deaf-mute, (vii) and the fool (viii) and the drunkard, (ix) and those with non-disqualifying blemishes? Scripture teaches, saying “blemish, blemish”—an inclusive marker. (ʾEmor pereq 3.2, Weiss 95c; TK 423) §2.22 “If any of the flesh of his sacrifice of well-being is eaten on the third day, it shall not be acceptable” (Lev. 7:18): whence do we know that it applies (i) to sacrifices made at night, and (ii) to those whose blood was spilled, or (iii) whose blood trickled beyond the partition of the Tabernacle, or (iv) whose blood was not ritually tossed, or (v) whose flesh protruded, or (vi) whose blood was collected and tossed by unfit priests, or (vii) in the cases of sacrifices whose blood is to be smeared on the lower part of the altar but it was smeared on the upper part, or (viii) whose blood is to be smeared on the upper part of the altar but it was smeared on the lower part, or (ix) those from within the sanctuary offered outside the sanctuary, or (x) those outside the sanctuary offered within the sanctuary, and (xi) the paschal offering and (xii) the purification offering made without proper intention, Scripture teaches, saying “it shall not be acceptable; it shall not count from him who offered it” for the eater. (Tzav pereq 13.3, Weiss 36d; TK 162–163) In these and kindred derashot throughout the Sifra,20 a series of legal conclusions is linked to a single biblical phrase, making it impossible to argue that their variety is conditioned by either the semantics or the context of the marker. As a result, it becomes difficult to posit an underlying hermeneutic principle that meaningfully explains the transition from, for example, “it shall not be acceptable; it shall not count from him who offered it” to the Sifra’s long list of ritual disqualifications: night sacrifice, spilled blood, and so on. Alongside cases of semantic discontinuity in which a single marker generates different conclusions, we find derashot that derive the same conclusion from different scriptural elements. Consider the different ways ʾish ʾish derashot



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include women. In Leviticus 17:10, the Sifra identifies the phrase “among them” as the basis for including women: §1.15 “And if anyone [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel or of the alien who reside among them ingests any blood [kol dam]” (Lev. 17:10): “Among them” to include women and slaves. If so, why is ʾish ʾish stated? Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon says: “To introduce the offspring of an Israelite woman from a Gentile or from a slave.” (Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2, Weiss 84c; TK 363)21 In Leviticus 22:18, “in Israel” includes women: §2.10 “Whenever any person [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel or of the aliens in Israel presents an offering” (Lev. 22:18): “in Israel”—to include women and slaves. If so, why is ʾish ʾish stated? (ʾEmor parashah 7.1, Weiss 98a; TK 434) In Leviticus 20:9, the repetition ʾish ʾish includes women: §2.14 “If any man [ʾish ʾish] dishonors his father or his mother, he must be put to death” (Lev. 20:9): From this I learn only regarding the man [ʾish], whence do I include the woman? Scripture teaches, saying ʾish ʾish. (Qedoshim pereq 9.8, Weiss 92a; TK 411)22 Note that the phrase “in Israel,” the basis for the inclusion of women in Leviticus 22:18, occurs in Leviticus 17:10 as well, but for some reason does not produce the same results. And if ʾish ʾish introduces women in Leviticus 20:9, how did it not have the same effect in Leviticus 17:10 and 22:18? Why did those derashot include women by means of “among them” and “in Israel”—unaware that gender equality before the law was already implied in their opening formula?23

Miʿuṭ (Exclusion) The same issues are evident with exclusion derashot, as the following brief survey indicates. As with the ʾish ʾish inclusions, the Sifra excludes very different legal and ritual cases on the basis of the same hermeneutic marker. Here is a set of derashot linked to the pronoun hiʾ:

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§2.23 “You shall add oil to it and lay frankincense on it; it is a cereal offering [minḥa hiʾ]” (Lev. 2:15): Hiʾ, Except for the two loaves of bread that do not require either oil or frankincense. (Nedavah pereq 15.5, Weiss 13a; TK 55) §2.24 “He shall bring as his offering . . . semolina for the purification offering . . . and the priest shall scoop out a handful as a token portion of it and turn it into smoke on the altar, with the Lord’s food gifts; it is a purification offering [ḥaṭʾat hiʾ]” (Lev. 5:11–12): Might it be that even if he placed oil on it the offering would be ritually fit? Scripture teaches, saying hiʾ. (Ḥovah pereq 19.5, Weiss 25a; TK 113) §2.25 “The purification offering shall be slaughtered before the Lord, at the spot where the burnt offering is slaughtered: it is most sacred [qodesh qodashim hiʾ]” (Lev. 6:18): hiʾ, excepting the thanksgiving offering and the ram offering of the Nazirite. (Tzav parashah 3.2, Weiss 32a–b; TK 142) It is evidently difficult to divine the connection between each verse and the excluded element. In §2.23, the emphatic “it is a cereal offering” of Leviticus 2:15 excludes “the two loaves of bread” from the requirement of oil and frankincense set forth in the first hemistich. But no explanation is given as to why this offering, the loaves raised as an elevation at Shavuot, is excluded. The two loaves, after all, are themselves cereal offerings, as stated explicitly: “You shall present a new cereal offering to the Lord . . . an elevation offering of two bread loaves” (Lev. 23:16–17). The phrase “it is a cereal offering” should, by all rights, emphasize the inclusion of the loaves in the scope of Leviticus 2:15, but according to the Sifra, the opposite is the case.24 The situation is much the same with derashot §2.24, and §2.25. In each, the emphatic “it is P” is interpreted to mean that “it is P and therefore not Q”: “it is a purification offering” (Lev. 5:12) excludes sacrifice made with an oil libation; “it is most sacred” (Lev. 6:18) excludes the thanksgiving offering and the ram offering of the Nazirite. But the link between P (emphatically the case) and Q (consequently excluded) is asserted, not demonstrated

Markers That Generate Both Ribbui and Miʿuṭ A special case of semantic discontinuity is evident when a single biblical term generates both ribbui and miʿuṭ arguments. In the following derashah, the Hebrew word nefesh (“person”) excludes the Israelites collectively:



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§2.26 “[If any of the flesh of his sacrifice of well-being is eaten on the third day] the person [ve-ha-nefesh] who eats of it shall bear his punishment” (Lev. 7:18): “The person” [ha-nefesh]—but not the congregation. (Tzav pereq 13.9, Weiss 37b; TK 164) This exclusion, which appears several times in the Sifra,25 is arguably grounded in the semantics of nefesh, which refers to an individual, not the collective. Elsewhere, however, the same term introduces an inclusion: §2.27 “When a person [nefesh] inadvertently does wrong in regard to any of the Lord’s prohibitive commandments by violating any one of them” (Lev. 4:2): I know only regarding the Israelites, whence do I include the aliens and the slaves? Scripture teaches, saying, “when a person [nefesh].” (Ḥovah parashah 1.1, Weiss 15b; TK 66) And: §2.28 “When a person [nefesh] [commits a sacrilege by being inadvertently remiss]” (Lev. 5:15): To include the anointed priest in matters of sacrilege. (Ḥovah parashah 11.1, Weiss 25c; TK 114) These derashot, in aggregate, indicate that nefesh can trigger either a ribbui or a miʿuṭ, with no textual indication as to which way the argument will go. Indeed, sometimes both appear in a single derashah: §2.29 “[If anyone (ki-kol) eats the suet of an animal from which a food gift is presented to the Lord,] that person [ha-nefesh] shall be cut off from his kin” (Lev. 7:25): And not the congregation; ha-nefesh—to include one who drinks. (Tzav parashah 10.10, Weiss 38d; TK 171) The derashah begins with nefesh excluding the congregation, but then shifts to nefesh acting as a marker of inclusion. Leviticus 7:25 prohibits eating part of the offerings made to God, but, according to the Sifra, the word nefesh expands the prohibition to include people who drink of sanctified offerings. If in previous derashot, there existed a hypothetical possibility that the broader context determined whether nefesh would function as a ribbui or as a miʿuṭ, no such argument is available here; the same occurrence of the word generates

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both. As with the ribbui derashot that link many varied conclusions to a single marker, it is difficult to conceive of a rule that allows nefesh to include legal conclusions in one passage and exclude them in another.

“After Scripture Included, It Excluded” (Aḥar She-Ribbah ha-Katuv Miʿeṭ) Derashah §2.29 is unusual in that the same lexeme generates an inclusion and exclusion, but the juxtaposition of the two occurs throughout the Sifra. Leviticus 1:17 concludes the laws governing the burnt offerings of birds, a procedure that includes ritually draining the bird’s blood: §2.30 “The priest shall . . . turn it into smoke on the altar, upon the wood that is on the fire. It is a burnt offering [ʿolah hiʾ]” (Lev. 1:17): “A burnt offering [ʿolah hiʾ]”—even if he drained the blood of the body but not of the head. Or perhaps even if he drained the blood of the head but not of the body? Scripture teaches, saying hiʾ [“it is”]. (Nedavah pereq 9.7, Weiss 9b; TK 36) The Sifra first cites two Hebrew words, ʿolah hiʾ (“it is a burnt offering”) to include the priest’s offering “even if he drained the blood of the body but not of the head”; then the second of those words, hiʾ (“it is”), to exclude sacrifices in which the priest “drained the blood of the head but not of the body.” Apparently, ʿolah hiʾ contains two markers: taken as a whole, it is an inclusion marker, but hiʾ on its own is an exclusion marker. We must assume, then, that hiʾ’s exclusive trait is in a recessive state, as it were, when (as part of ʿolah hiʾ) it expands the scope of Leviticus 1:17 to include sacrifices that omit draining of the blood of the bird’s head. But once the question turns to sacrifices that omit draining the blood of the bird’s body, exclusion becomes the dominant trait and hiʾ disqualifies the procedure. This succession of opposite arguments appears thoroughly arbitrary: Why does hiʾ include one legal scenario but exclude the other? Why not the reverse? This question troubled the Sifra as well, as it tries to explain at least some of these derashot: §2.31 “When any person from among you presents an offering of livestock” (Lev. 1:2): “Person”—to include the aliens; “from among



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you”—to exclude the apostates [meshumadim]. But on what basis do you [mah raʾit] argue thus? [Could you not] say “person”—to include the apostates, “from among you”—to exclude the aliens? After Scripture included, it excluded [aḥar she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ]. (Nedavah parashah 2.3, Weiss 4c; TK 11) Remarkably, the Sifra takes itself to task here. Since there is no compelling semantic connection between “person” and aliens or between “from among you” and converts, what is to prevent the interpreter from reversing its argument and having “person” include the converts and “from among you” exclude the aliens? The Sifra’s response to this self-posed challenge is the formula aḥar she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ (“after Scripture included, it excluded”). This formula is interesting for a number of reasons, not least its identification of ha-katuv as the interpretive agent. As I argued at length in Scripture as Logos, one of the most remarkable aspects of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim is their twofold characterization of Scripture as both torah and ha-katuv, a distinction that underwrites a sustained rhetorical strategy: the former is the source of scriptural passages; the latter is an active teacher that employs a wide range of interpretive techniques—in many ways, a metonymy for the bet midrash.26 Though the torah/ha-katuv distinction is not consistently operative in the Sifra, the phrase “after Scripture included, it excluded” characterizes ha-katuv as an active interpreter. Can the provenance of the phrase—and of the Sifra’s ha-katuv statements generally—be determined with greater certainty? The following is a list of Sifra formulas that employ ha-katuv, followed by the number of occurrences and their attribution. In the endnotes, where full citations are provided, named formulas are indicated by the name of the rabbinic tradent, the anonymous derashot with an empty set symbol (ø): i. “Ha-katuv speaks” (ha-katuv medabber/baʾ ha-katuv lomar/ ʾomer ha-katuv)27 Total: 14, of which 9 are anonymous, 5 attributed ii. “Ha-katuv distinguishes” (ḥalaq/nataq ha-katuv)28 Total: 5, of which 0 are anonymous, 5 attributed iii. “Ha-katuv establishes as obligatory/permitted”29 Total: 4, of which 1 is anonymous, 3 attributed iv. Varia: ha-katuv . . . includes an element in a set;30 punishes;31 elucidates (baʾ ha-katuv liftoaḥ);32 considers (shoqel);33 praises in the hagiographa (meshabḥo ba-qabbalah),34 and spares Israel

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(ḥisekh/ḥiser ha-katuv ʾet yisraʾel)35 Total: 6, of which 1 is anonymous, 5 attributed. All told, there are 29 ha-katuv phrases, of which 18, a clear majority, are attributed. Not so with the phrase under discussion: v. “after Scripture included, it excluded” (aḥar she-ribbah hakatuv miʿeṭ)36 Total: 20, of which 20 are anonymous, 0 named. Though by far the most frequently attested, “after Scripture included, it excluded” is always anonymous, not once attributed to a tannaitic figure. “After Scripture included, it excluded” also raises significant redactional difficulties. Here is a full derashah, from the Sifra’s discussion of Leviticus 1:13: §2.32 “[The entrails and the legs shall be washed with water; the priest shall offer up and turn the whole into smoke on the altar.] It is a burnt offering [ʿolah huʾ]” (Lev. 1:13): Even though he did not skin, even though he did not dismember [the offering remains valid]. But perhaps [it remains valid] even if the sacrifice did not occur on the northern side of the altar? Scripture teaches, saying “it is” [huʾ]. On what basis do you deem the sacrifice valid when skinning and dismembering have not been performed but invalid in the case of the northern side? After ha-katuv included, it excluded. On what basis do I deem valid the cases of skinning and dismembering? Because they occur after priestly intent. But [on what basis do] I deem invalid in the case of the northern side of the altar? Because it precedes priestly intent. (Nedavah pereq 7.6, Weiss 8a; TK 30) Typical of “after Scripture included, it excluded” derashot, the passage is made up of an inclusion-exclusion sequence (the first based on ʿolah huʾ, the second on huʾ). The anonymous Sifra voices its concern about the arbitrary nature of the argument, and then responds in two ways: a. “After Scripture included, it excluded.” b. A second explanation based on the sacrificial process: skinning and dismembering occur after the priest’s intent, when the sacrifice is considered a fait accompli, so procedural errors cannot retroac-



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tively invalidate it, but the location of the sacrifice precedes the priest’s intent, so improper location invalidates the entire procedure. This dual explanation is typical of “after Scripture included, it excluded” derashot: Table 1 Derashah

Ribbui (a.) and miʿuṭ (b.)

Logical Argument

Nedavah pereq 9.6, Weiss 9b; TK 36, ad Lev. 1:17

a. Severing

Severing is subsequent to priestly intention; pinching off the head precedes it.

b. Pinching off the head

Ḥovah pereq 19.5, Weiss a. Placing frankincense on The priest can gather 25a–b; TK 113, ad Lev. the sacrifice frankincense back up but 5:11 cannot gather oil back up. b. Placing oil on the sacrifice Ḥovah pereq 20.2, Weiss 26a; TK 116, ad Lev. 5:15

a. Suet

Aḥare pereq 9.6, Weiss 84a; TK 360, ad Lev. 17:5

a. Burnt offering

Aḥare pereq 11.10, Weiss 84c; TK 365,2 ad Lev. 17:13

a. Ground rocks, ground earthenware, wisps of fine flax, fine dust of earthenware, and more

b. Blood

b. Purification offering and reparation offering

The suet is analogous to the meat portion in certain respects; the blood is not. The burnt offerings, like the well-being offerings, are made as the result of an oath or a freewill offering; purification and reparation offerings are not.1 The former can be counted in the (biblical) category of “earth”; the latter cannot.

b. Ground metal vessels and flour and bran and coarse grain ʾEmor pereq 20.6, Weiss 104d, ad Lev. 24:14

a. An individual who seized The first category involves another and forced him to active participation; the endure inclement weather or second does not. sets animals on him b. An individual who instructed another to endure inclement weather or allowed animals to attack him

1 The second part is only implied. 2 There is a partial tear in the manuscript here.

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In each of these derashot, the argument that follows “after Scripture included, it excluded” provides a coherent—indeed, compelling—explanation of the different status of the elements. So compelling, in fact, that it calls into question the function of the “after Scripture included, it excluded” argument: why would the Sifra claim that ʿolah huʾ (“it is a burnt offering”) endorses one type of sacrifice while huʾ (“it is”) rejects another, when a substantive explanation for the status of these procedures is available? The juxtaposition of the two arguments is overdetermined: If ha-katuv is the source of the ribbui-followed-by-miʿuṭ interpretation sequence (as “after Scripture included, it excluded” claims), further justification is unnecessary; but if the distinction can be derived from the broader biblical context, without recourse to a hermeneutically forced sequence, what need is there for “after Scripture included, it excluded”? Moreover, each argument stakes out a different implicit claim regarding interpretive agency. The formula “after Scripture included, it excluded” identifies ha-katuv as the agent effecting the inclusion-exclusion sequence. The second argument does not enlist a prooftext and is, in fact, not even based on the verse being interpreted. It explains the inclusion of one element and exclusion of the other as a reflection of broader differences anchored in the biblical account: their place in the sacrificial sequence, reversible and nonreversible actions, direct and indirect agency, and so on. The emphatic pronoun does not play a role here, since the broader considerations remain in effect, irrespective of the precise wording of the prooftext. Finally, consider the redactionally problematic shifts in person within “after Scripture included, it excluded” derashot. The formula is regularly introduced by a second-person singular question “on what basis do you deem  . . .?,” which elicits an incongruous third-person singular response, followed by a congruous second-person answer: i. “On what basis do you deem valid the cases of skinning and dismembering. . .?” ii. “After ha-katuv included, it excluded.” iii. “Why do I deem valid the cases of skinning and dismembering? Because . . .” Clauses (i) and (iii) agree both in person and in terminology (“on what basis do you deem valid? . . . I deem valid . . .”) while clause (ii) is divorced from both its antecedent and its consequent—so much so that removing “after Scripture included, it excluded” from the sequence increases the coherence of the derashah,



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as we see from the reworking of §2.32 below (the location of the omitted phrase is marked with the formula’s stricken-through acronym in braces): *“On what basis do you deem the sacrifice valid when skinning and dismembering have not been performed but invalid in the case of the northern side? {ASIIE} On what basis do I deem valid the cases of skinning and dismembering? Because they occur after priestly intent. But I deem invalid in the case of the northern side of the altar? Because it precedes priestly intent.” The explicit call-and-response “on what basis do you deem . . .?” / “on what basis do I deem . . .?” occurs in several of the “after Scripture included, it excluded” derashot.37 Others omit the rhetorical “on what basis do I deem?,” leaving “on what basis do you include . . . but exclude . . .?—I include . . . but exclude . . . ”38 Still others omit the rhetorical dialogue altogether, though the argument remains unambiguously a response to “on what basis do you deem?”39 On redactional grounds, then, it appears likely that “after Scripture included, it excluded” is not an original part of the derashot in which it appears, but a late interpolation. A number of derashot still show traces of the redactional violence exerted in introducing “after Scripture included, it excluded” into existing arguments: §2.33 “A firstling of quadrupeds—designated as a firstling to the Lord—cannot be consecrated by anyone” (Lev. 27:26): Rabbi Ishmael says: “Whence that one cannot consecrate a firstling? Scripture teaches, saying, ‘A firstling . . . cannot be consecrated by anyone.’ Might it be that he cannot consecrate it as an object whose estimated value falls to the Temple? Scripture teaches, saying ‘Every firstling male . . . you shall consecrate’” (Deut. 15:19). But on what basis [mah raʾit] do you introduce it for consecration as an object whose estimated value falls to the Temple, but preclude it from consecration on the altar? After Scripture included, it excluded. Why do I introduce it for consecration as an object whose estimated value falls to the Temple? Because it applies to all; but I preclude it from consecration on the altar because it does not apply to all. (Beḥuqotai parashah 8.2, Weiss 114c; MS New York 147b) Rabbi Ishmael’s argument involves the juxtaposition of two contradictory verses: Leviticus 27:26 prohibits the consecration of firstlings; Deuteronomy

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15:19 demands it.40 The argument is typically Ishmaelian, containing a statement of the scriptural issue (contradiction) and a resolution anchored in the language of Scripture. The argument does not employ Rabbi Ishmael’s contradiction formula (“One verse says . . . another verse says . . .”), but the parallel at m. ʿArakhin 8.7 does.41 In the Sifra, Rabbi Ishmael’s interpretation is followed by an anonymous question: “on what basis do you introduce it for consecration . . . but preclude it . . .?” But this is a non sequitur. Rabbi Ishmael’s procedure is transparent—he is resolving an apparent contradiction between two verses by proposing that one of them refers to a more specific category: it is not firstlings as such that Leviticus excludes but firstlings whose value does not fall to the Temple. One can accept Rabbi Ishmael’s argument or one can reject it, but its motivation and reasoning are much clearer than in the anonymous “after Scripture included, it excluded” derashot. Also, the anonymous Sifra revises Rabbi Ishmael’s derashah by introducting a distinction between the Temple and the altar that is not explicit in Rabbi Ishmael’s derashah. Most important, Rabbi Ishmael never employs the language of ribbui and miʿuṭ, arguing instead by means of minayin . . . talmud lomar (“whence . . . Scripture teaches, saying . . .”), followed by a yakhol . . . talmud lomar (“might it be . . . Scripture teaches, saying …”). The question “on what basis do you introduce it for consecration . . . but preclude it” is incongruent with Rabbi Ishmael’s derashah. These inconsistencies indicate that the “after Scripture included, it excluded” terminology has been grafted onto Rabbi Ishmael’s derashah by a later editor.42

Two Senses of Ribbah ha-Katuv and Miʿeṭ ha-Katuv Another relevant passage is the tannaitic derashah to Leviticus 27:2–3: “Speak to the Israelites and say to them: When a person makes an extraordinary vow to the Lord concerning the (fixed) valuation of a human being, these shall be the valuations.” A list of valuations follows, based on the age and gender of the valued individual: men and woman from twenty to sixty years of age— fifty shekels and thirty shekels, respectively; males and females from five to twenty—twenty and ten, and so forth. The Sifra comments: §2.34 “When a person makes an extraordinary vow” (Lev. 27:2): Israelites make valuations, but Gentiles do not. Might it be that the value [of Gentiles] is not assessed? Scripture teaches, saying “a person [ʾish],” the words of Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Meir says: “After the



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one verse includes and a second verse excludes.43 Why do I say that their value is assessed but they do not make valuations? Since [Scripture] increased [ribbah] the measure of those being assessed relative to the measure of those making valuations, for the deafmute, the imbecile, and the minor are assessed but do not make valuations.” Rabbi Judah says: “The value of Israelites is assessed, but Gentiles are not assessed. Might it be that [Gentiles] do not make valuations? Scripture teaches, saying ‘a person [ʾish].’” Rabbi Judah says: “After the one verse includes and a second verse excludes. Why do I say that they make valuations but are not assessed? Since [Scripture] increased [ribbah] the measure of those making valuations relative to the measure of those being assessed, for one of doubtful sex and an androgyne make valuations but their value is not assessed.” (Beḥuqotai parashah 3.1–2, Weiss 112c–d; MS New York 145a) The interpretive core of the dispute between Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Judah is, I think, clear. Rabbi Meir excludes Gentiles from the commandment to make valuations but includes them among those whose value may be assessed; Rabbi Judah holds the reverse—Gentiles may make valuations, but their value cannot be assessed. In support of their respective positions, each argues that “[Scripture] increased the measure [ribbah middat]” of the one category over the other. For Rabbi Meir, the category of the assessed is the greater, as it includes the deaf-mute, imbecile, and minor, none of whom are included in the category of those offering valuations; for Rabbi Judah, the opposite holds, with one of a doubtful sex and an androgyne counted among those making valuations but not among those whose value is assessed, thus establishing those making valuations as the greater. Two points of difficulty stand out. The formula attributed to Rabbi Meir, aḥar she-hakatuv ʾeḥad merabbeh ve-katuv ʾeḥad memaʿeṭ (“after the one verse includes and a second verse excludes”), appears to be a patchwork of two arguments: katuv ʾeḥad merabbeh ve-katuv ʾeḥad memaʿeṭ (“one verse includes and one verse excludes”) and aḥar she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ (“after Scripture included, it excluded”). Each of these formulas requires comment. Katuv ʾeḥad merabbeh ve-katuv ʾeḥad memaʿeṭ is not attested in tannaitic sources and appears to be a reworking of m. Menaḥot 13.11: It states regarding the burnt offering from the herd “pleasing aroma to the Lord” (Lev. 1:9); and regarding the burnt offering from birds

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“pleasing aroma to the Lord” (Lev. 1:17); and regarding the cereal offering “pleasing aroma to the Lord” (Lev. 2:2). This teaches that one offers much [ʾeḥad merabbeh] and another offers little [ʾeḥad memaʿeṭ], but it is all the same so long as he directs his mind toward heaven. Of course, the phrase ʾeḥad merabbeh ve-ʾeḥad memaʿeṭ refers to the quantity of sacrifices offered by various individuals (“one offers much and one offers little”) and has nothing to do with interpretation. By inserting ha-katuv into this phrase, however, the Sifra redirects the formula toward the claim that Scripture is engaged in inclusion and exclusion glosses. As for the second phrase, Hillel Baitner has argued that aḥar she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ (“after Scripture included, it excluded”) is a corruption of aḥer she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ, “another [NB: aḥer, not aḥar] that Scripture included, it excluded.” If Baitner is correct, the Sifra’s use of the phrase in the aḥar sense may well be a conscious reworking of the rare phrase.44 Whatever the history of these phrases, they differ with regard to hermeneutics. The former attributes a ribbui to one verse and a miʿuṭ to another; the latter locates an inclusion-exclusion sequence within a single verse or passage. A second, more fundamental, difficulty involves the meaning of the terms ribbah and miʿeṭ in the tannaitic debate. The phrase “[Scripture] increased the measure [ribbah middat]” of one category over the other does not attribute to Scripture an inclusion argument so much as it indicates the relative “population density” of each category as evidence for the inclusion or exclusion of Gentiles. The “increased measure” (relatively denser population) that Rabbi Meir and Rabbi Judah claim for their respective categories is understood as an established fact that supports their respective positions. In other words, ribbah [ha-katuv] (“[Scripture] increased”) does not introduce a ribbui argument, or any interpretation for that matter; it refers to an existing state of affairs—certain legal cases count as part of one category, other cases as part of another. This non-midrashic sense of ribbah ha-katuv is attested in other Sifra derashot: §2.35 “They shall not make any bald patch [on their heads]” (Lev. 21:5): “On their heads,” what is the instruction? For it is stated “you must not lacerate yourselves or make a bald patch between your eyes for the dead” (Deut. 14:1), thus, it might be that I know only of a liability for [shaving] between the eyes, whence to include [lerabbot] the head? Scripture teaches, saying “on their heads,” to include the head. Might it be with regard to priests, for whom Scripture has multiplied copious commandments [ribbah ha-katuv mitzvot yeterot], that they



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are liable for each and every bald patch, for the head just as between the eyes, but the Israelites, for whom Scripture has not multiplied commandments, will be liable for only one? Scripture teaches, saying “bald patch,” “bald patch,” as an analogy [between the priests and the Israelites]. (ʾEmor pereq 1.1–3, Weiss 94b; TK 416) Leviticus 21 sets forth a series of instructions for priests, including the prohibition at verse 5 against making bald patches on their heads. Since the Bible is dealing with bald patches, the qualifier “on their heads” seems extraneous, and the Sifra asks, “what is the instruction?” of this phrase. The answer: it is necessary in light of the similar instruction at Deuteronomy 14:1. There, the verse prohibits shaving “between your eyes,”45 potentially leading the reader to think that the prohibition is limited to that particular area, but Leviticus 21:5 expands the scope to include the entire head.46 What is the meaning of lerabbot in §2.35? The term first occurs in the question and response “whence do I include [lerabbot] the head? Scripture teaches, saying ‘on their heads,’ to include [lerabbot] the head.” The rhetoric of this derashah is prima facie identical with the standard Sifra usage, but the hermeneutic procedure that it introduces is profoundly different: The Sifra does not identify a hermeneutic marker that sanctions the introduction of elements not stated in Scripture. Instead, the term ribbui refers to an expansive stance within Scripture, one brought to the fore by the juxtaposition of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. Leviticus 21:5 (“They shall not make bald patches on their heads”) adds an element absent from Deuteronomy 14:1 (“do not . . . make a bald patch between your eyes”). Unlike in the ribbuyim surveyed thus far, in §2.35 one verse supplements information absent in another. So, too, the second occurrence of lerabbot, in which the Sifra questions whether the two verses can be legitimately juxtaposed, since Leviticus 21 addresses priests for whom “Scripture has multiplied commandments [ribbah ha-katuv mitzvot yeterot],” while Deuteronomy 14 addresses Israelites, for whom Scripture as not done so. Here, too, ha-katuv is not producing an inclusive midrash: ribbah ha-katuv means only that there are relatively more sacerdotal commandments in Scripture itself—ha-katuv has provided abundant commandments for priests, more than for Israelites. This scriptural sense of ribbah ha-katuv is attested in other Sifra derashot: §2.36 “]He shall . . . lean his hand] upon the head of his offering” (Lev. 3:2): “His offering”—not the paschal offering. But it is learned by din [logical argument]: if well-being offerings regarding which

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Scripture did not multiply commandments require laying on of hands, is it not din that the paschal offering, regarding which ­Scripture did multiply commandments—require laying on of hands? Scripture teaches, saying “his offering”—not the paschal offering. (Nedavah pereq 17.6, Weiss 13c; TK 59) In this derashah, ribbah ha-katuv refers to the copious commandments associated with the paschal offering and is semantically equivalent to “there are many scriptural commandments (pertaining to the paschal offering).” §2.37 “When a woman has a discharge of blood for many days [yamim harbeh]” (Lev. 15:25): “Days”—this refers to two. Or perhaps it is many days? Rabbi Akiva says: “Whatever has an expansive sense [merubbeh] and a restricted sense [memuʿat], if you grasp the expansive you have not grasped; if you grasp the restricted, you have grasped.” (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.5, Weiss 79a; TK 331) Leviticus 15:25’s indication that irregular (non-menstrual) bleeding occurs when a woman bleeds “for many days” is, at least in the eyes of the Sifra, unhelpfully vague—what counts as “many days”? The derashah offers two possibilities: either the condition is met after two days, two being the minimum for plural days; or a longer period is required. Rabbi Akiva endorses the former on the grounds that, as a general rule, the memuʿat (“restricted”) sense is preferable to the merubbeh (“expansive”),47 using these terms to refer to the semantic range of a term rather than to legal conclusions introduced by a miʿuṭ or ribbui gloss, respectively. Another example, here appearing alongside ha-katuv miʿeṭ, is the following: §2.38 “[If his offering to the Lord is] a burnt offering of birds, he shall present a turtledove or a young pigeon as his offering” (Lev. 1:14): Just as the burnt offering of the livestock, whose offering Scripture limited [she-miʿeṭ ha-katuv] as it is not acceptable from both females and males or from both blemished and unblemished, still it is acceptable as a freewill48 offering of the congregation, the burnt offering of the birds, whose offering Scripture expanded [sheribbah ha-katuv] as it is acceptable from both females and males and from both blemished and unblemished, is it not din that it



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come as a freewill offering of the congregation? Scripture teaches, saying “his offering”—the individual makes a bird offering, the congregation does not make a bird offering. (Nedavah parashah 6.9, Weiss 8b–c; TK 31–32) Leviticus 1:3 states of the burnt offering of the herd that “it shall be male without blemish,” qualifying the ritually fit animal as being both male and unblemished. Leviticus 1:14, however, states only that the burnt offering of the birds be “a turtledove or a young pigeon,” without qualifying the sex and physical perfection of the bird. The derashah associates the two positions with the verbs miʿeṭ and ribbah: Scripture miʿeṭ the burnt offering from the herd, that is, limited it by imposing qualification on what counts as a ritually acceptable animal; but Scripture ribbah the burnt offering of birds, that is, expanded the scope of ritually acceptable offerings by placing only few restrictions. It appears that two senses of ribbah ha-katuv and miʿeṭ ha-katuv are operative in the Sifra. In the majority of its occurrences, ribbui and miʿut refer to a putatively marked biblical lexeme or phrase that warrants the introduction or exclusion of elements not found in the verse. In another, smaller set of derashot, ribbui and miʿuṭ refer to the relatively expansive or delimited manner, respectively, in which Scripture characterizes a topic. Nota bene: in the latter derashot, ribbui and miʿut do not refer to midrashic interpretation. Rather, they are analogous to other ha-katuv phrases in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and named Sifra derashot that attribute an interpretive action to Scripture: “ha-katuv punishes” means that a verse specifies punishment, “ha-katuv divides” indicates a scriptural division, and ribbah ha-katuv means that Scripture has many occurrences of a phenomenon. Not surprisingly, the second sense—and only the second sense—is attestd in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.49

Conclusion The bulk of this chapter examined the rules governing the Sifra’s interpretation, especially its inclusion and exclusion glosses, though these have proved surprisingly elusive. Many derashot do not seem to add anything beyond the plain sense of Scripture (midrashic vacuity), while others posit conclusions unbridgeably distant from the verse. Moreover, close analysis reveals endemic inconsistencies: the same hermeneutic marker putatively generates different

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conclusions, while the same conclusion is generated by different markers; some markers generate both ribbui and miʿuṭ arguments; and some markers are passed over in silence. It is not the implausibility of any one derashah but rather the systematic issues that lead to the conclusion that the Sifra is semantically discontinuous: no consistent principle or set of principles determines the relationship between the language of Leviticus and the Sifra’s response. The concluding section of the chapter examined a formula that appears to address this discontinuity. After pointing to the arbitrary nature of derashot that include certain elements and exclude others, the Sifra offers the formula “after Scripture included, it excluded,” which explains the ribbui and miʿuṭ juxtapositions as the result of ha-katuv’s action. However, further investigation revealed this formula to be implicated in a number of difficulties: alone among the ha-katuv formulas, it is never attributed to a named tanna; there is a tension, perhaps a mutual exclusivity, between it and the logical argument that accompanies it (and addresses the same issue); it is terminologically incongruous with both its antecedent and its consequent—a clear indication of late editorial insertion; and it employs the phrases ribbah hakatuv and miʿeṭ ha-katuv in a different sense from what we find in the named Sifra and the Rabbi Ishmael derashot. My analysis of “after Scripture included, it excluded” indicates that significant differences—terminological and perhaps hermeneutic—exist between different strata of the Sifra: some derashot, almost all of them attributed, understand the phrases ribbah/miʿeṭ ha-katuv as referring to the relative abundance or paucity of an element in the Bible; others understand them as a warrant to introduce or exclude legal conclusions not stated in the verse. Is this a unique instance of a formula having more than one meaning? In the following chapter, I examine the hermeneutic formulas common to the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and the Sifra to see if others exhibit a similar dynamic.

Chapter 3

Terminological Identity and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage

[E]ach . . . repeats, as I have mentioned to you, the notion ­expressed by another. This is done . . . so that at first it occurs to the multitude that all the interlocutors are agreed upon the selfsame opinion; however, this is not so. —Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed 1

Since its infancy, the academic study of legal midrash has focused on the terminological differences between the schools of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael, using them as a means of determining the provenance of early ­midrashic arguments.2 At the same time, scholars have long recognized that numerous formulas are common to both schools, though these have not received the same scrutiny since their terminological identity has been assumed to be tantamount to hermeneutical identity. But the two senses of ribbah and miʿeṭ ha-katuv indicate this is not necessarily so.

Proposed Readings “Might It Be” ( Yakhol) I begin with two formulas that exhibit only partial terminological overlap but have, nonetheless, been understood as functionally identical—namely, the “proposed readings” formulas that introduce interpretations by yakhol or minayin interpretations (subsequently rejected or confirmed, respectively, by talmud

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Table 2 Opening Rabbi Ishmael biblical verse midrashim Sifra biblical verse

Initial Proposal

Midrashic Refutation

shomeʿa ʾani + talmud lomar + verse interpretation yakhol + interpretation talmud lomar + verse

lomar). The terminological identity is only partial because, while minayin appears in both the Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva midrashim, yakhol is an Akivan term, corresponding to the Ishmaelian shomeʿa ʾani.3 This difference has, however, been overshadowed by the apparent functional identity of the formulas, as the first term introduces an interpretation of the verse, which is immediately rejected in light of the verse cited by talmud lomar (see Table 2). Given the structural identity of the formulas, it is not surprising that scholars have, without exception, understood shomeʿa ʾani and yakhol as variant terms for the same interpretive procedure. Closer examination indicates that this is not so. Rabbi Ishmael’s shomeʿa ʾani (lit., “I hear”) almost always introduces a plausible interpretation that is rejected, generally because of a conflict with a second verse, introduced by talmud lomar.4 Though derashot of this type are not entirely absent from the Sifra,5 the vast majority of the Sifra’s yakhol ­derashot exhibit the problems discussed in the previous chapters. For example, a fort-da derashah introduces the proposed reading with yakhol: §3.1 “The elders of the community [shall lean their hands upon the head of the bull]” (Lev. 4:15): “The elders”—might this refer to elders of the marketplace? Scripture teaches, saying “the elders of the community.” (Ḥovah pereq 6.1, Weiss 19b; TK 82) Following the pattern of other fort-da derashot, the Sifra forcibly extracts “the elders of” from the phrase “the elders of the community,” and then sets about investigating the identity of said elders. Perhaps, it speculates, these are “the elders of the market”? Happily, this mistake is averted and the communal nature of the elders securely established by a repeated reference to the verse under discussion. The yakhol readings often exhibit semantic discontinuity, as in the case of §1.13, where the biblical command to bring offerings “to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting to offer it to the Lord” (Lev. 17:8) is glossed: “Might it be



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[yakhol] that one who offers less than an olive’s worth [zayit] of the burnt offering or less than the equivalent of an olive of the sacrificial offerings or less than the equivalent of an olive of the handful . . . is considered liable?”6 But the Sifra’s yakhol question does not and cannot arise from a close reading of Scripture alone, as zayit is not a biblical measure; it is rabbinic. Furthermore, yakhol derashot regularly introduce detailed legal scenarios not rooted in the language of the verse. Leviticus 11:3 permits the consumption of certain animals: “Any quadruped that has hoofs, with clefts through the hoofs, and that chews the cud—such you may eat.” The Sifra first asserts that this permission holds even “if the hoof of the fetus protrudes [from the birth canal] but then returns,” and then asks whether “might it be [yakhol] that even if the head of the fetus protrudes and then returns, it may be eaten?”;7 and when Leviticus 13:39 identifies a skin condition that does not entail impurity (“If the shiny marks on the skin of the body are dull white, it is a rash that has broken out on the skin; it is pure”), the Sifra asks about conditions never stated in the verse: “Might it be [yakhol] that it purifies the shiny marks that emerge from it? . . . might it be [yakhol] that it does not purify the shiny marks that emerge from it but does purify the shiny marks contiguous with it?”8 The notion that these very specific scenarios (different parts of the fetus exiting and then returning to the birth canal, the emergence of contiguous skin blemishes)—scenarios that are neither denoted nor connoted by the verse—are generated by nothing more than the reader’s engagement with the verse is far-fetched. The plausibility of the rejected reading, then, is one of the differences between yakhol and Rabbi Ishmael’s shomeʿa ʾani.

“Whence” (Minayin) In the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, minayin is the mirror image of shomeʿa ʾani. The latter introduces an interpretation that will be rejected once all relevant biblical evidence is weighed, while minayin introduces a legal position not stated in the verse under discussion but whose legitimacy is confirmed by another verse:9 “[They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of] the houses in which they eat it” (Exod. 12:7): I know only [ʾein li ʾelah] regarding the houses in which they ate it. Whence [minayin] regarding the houses in which they slept?

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Scripture teaches, saying “[The blood shall be a sign for you] on the houses where you live.” (Exod. 12:13) (Mekhilta Pisḥa 6, HorovitzRabin, 18; Lauterbach 1:45) Exod. 12:7 instructs the Israelites to place the blood on the doorposts and lintels of the houses “in which they eat” the paschal offering, while Exod. 12:13 refers to it as a sign on the houses “where you live.” What if these are not the selfsame house? The minayin formula draws attention to the limited scope of verse 7 (“I know only regarding the houses in which they ate”), which improbably excludes families who eat the paschal offering at a friend’s or neighbor’s house, and then return to their own house.10 Whence, then, do we learn that the blood marks every Israelite household, irrespective of where its inhabitants ate the paschal lamb? The answer is: from the phrase “the houses where you live” (v. 13). By highlighting the limited scope of the first verse, the Mekhilta draws attention to the more expansive statement in the second, framing the two as engaged in a collaborative exposition of the laws of Passover. The Sifra’s minayin, in contrast, exhibits the same semantic discontinuity as yakhol. Because I have discussed this phenomenon in some detail above, I merely cite a few relevant examples without analysis. A fort-da argument: §2.11 “And if anyone from among the children of Israel or any alien who resides among them hunts down an animal or a bird that may be eaten, he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth” (Lev. 17:13): I know only regarding a bird that may be eaten, whence [minayin] regarding an animal that may be eaten? Scripture teaches, saying “an animal or a bird that may be eaten.” (Aḥare pereq 11.4, Weiss 84c, TK 364) Extreme semantic discontinuity: §3.2 “[These are the creatures that you may eat . . .] any quadruped with cleft hooves [mafreset parsah]” (Lev. 11:2–3): Whence [minayin] a pure wild beast? Scripture teaches, saying ‘cleft’ [mafreset]. Whence [minayin] an impure wild beast? Scripture teaches, saying ‘hooves’ [parsah]. (Shemini parashah 4.1, Weiss 51a; TK 213) Elaborate legal scenarios unrelated to the verse:



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§3.3 “The priest . . . shall remove the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering [on the altar and put them beside the altar]” (Lev. 6:3): Whence [minayin]11 regarding the limbs and the suet that were not consumed by nightfall that he removes them by pushing them to the sides of the altar, and if it does not have sides he sets them on the surrounding gallery or on the walkway of the altar until he arranges the wood of the altar and then returns them to the woods? (Tzav pereq 2.4, Weiss 30a; TK 132) And: §3.4 “[This is the ritual for the sacrifice of well-being . . .] If he offers it for thanksgiving” (Lev. 7:11–12): Whence [minayin] do you say that one who sets aside his thanksgiving offering but lost it and then set aside another one in its place, but before he offered it the first one was found and both are viable, whence that he should offer whichever he wants, offering bread along with it, and the other he offers without bread? (Tzav pereq 11.1, Weiss 34d; TK 154) Minayin is also the formula of choice for derashot that introduce “laundry lists” of legal scenarios (see §§2.19–22, above).

“Scripture Teaches, Saying” (Talmud Lomar) As for the second (“response”) part of these derashot, in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim both yakhol (“might it be”) and minayin (“whence”) offer readings refuted or affirmed, respectfully, by another verse introduced by talmud lomar.12 Not so in the Sifra, nearly all of whose talmud lomar arguments entail the same difficulties as the Sifra’s glosses: §3.5 “When you reap [the harvest of your land, you shall not destroy the edge of your field in reaping, and gleanings of your harvest you shall not gather]” (Lev. 19:9): I know only regarding one who reaps, whence [minayin] for one who plucks? Scripture teaches [talmud lomar], saying “in reaping”; Whence for one who picks? Scripture teaches, saying “your harvest”; I know only regarding

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grain, whence for legumes? Scripture teaches, saying “your land”; Whence for trees? Scripture teaches, saying “your field.” (Qedoshim pereq 1.7, Weiss 87b; TK 393) How does “in reaping” extend the commandment to one who plucks? Or “your harvest” to one who picks? How does “your land” subsume legumes under the biblical instruction and “your fields” trees? Once again, we face the puzzle of semantic discontinuity, here in a more rhetorically elaborate derashah that claims to derive its conclusions from Scripture. The stubborn gap between the verse and the Sifra’s conclusion remains, even when the latter is introduced with talmud lomar. A notable subcategory involves a sequence of talmud lomar proofs that cite overlapping segments of the same verse: §3.6 “and an earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken” (Lev. 6:21): I know only regarding an earthenware vessel, whence to include natron vessels? Scripture teaches [talmud lomar], saying “And an earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken.” I know only regarding when he boiled something in it, whence if he poured boiling water into it? Scripture teaches, saying “in which it is boiled.” I know only regarding an earthenware vessel into which he poured boiling water, whence regarding a copper vessel into which he poured boiling water? Scripture teaches, saying “in which it is boiled shall be broken.” (Tzav pereq 7.1, Weiss 32d; TK 144–145) Here is a list of these arguments, with the cited part of the verse underlined, followed by the Sifra’s conclusion: “and an earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken” includes natron vessels. “and an earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken” includes the case of already boiled water that is poured into the vessel. “and an earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken” ­includes the case of already boiled water that is poured into a copper vessel.13 Though this sequence is structured like a midrashic exposition of Leviticus 6:21, even the most sympathetic reader, it is fair to say, will struggle to uncover a



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principle by which overlapping segments of a single verse provide scriptural proof for such different legal instructions.14

The Hermeneutic Identity of Yakhol and Miʿuṭ and of Minayin and Ribbui As the above-cited examples amply demonstrate, the talmud lomar derashot in the Mekhilta and Sifre Numbers are, at their core, intertextual arguments in which relevant verses can be drawn from anywhere in the Torah to elucidate the verse under discussion.15 When (see n. 4, above) Numbers 19:14 states that if a person dies in a tent “all that is in the tent shall be impure seven days” and Numbers 19:18 clarifies that the purification applies only to “the tent and all the furnishings,” the second verse (introduced by talmud lomar) sheds new light on the first. Not so in the Sifra, which, as we have seen, does not introduce a second verse into the derashah but rather cites the same verse twice: once as yakhol/minayin, and once as talmud lomar. This structure not only fails to provide insights regarding the interconnection of different verses; it is baldly solipsistic and renders suspect the notion that the derashah is meaningfully interpretive. After all, the Sifra asserts that a given verse simultaneously gives rise to an incorrect interpretation and that it serves as the basis for the refutation of this interpretation. This claim forces reader of the derashah to navigate between Scylla and Charybdis: if yakhol introduces a legitimate interpretation, it is unlikely that the same verse also refutes it; alternatively, if talmud lomar legitimately refutes the opening interpretation, in what sense was the yakhol reading meaningful to begin with? The difference from the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim is critical: there, the opening verse is rejected because it failed to consider the broader scriptural context, an oversight rectified by the second verse, adduced by talmud lomar. The Sifra’s repetition of the same biblical text, in contrast, never invokes the broader context. The Sifra tacitly admits as much when it glosses the talmud lomar verse, as happens, for example, in the discussion of Leviticus 1:6 cited in Chapter 1: §1.10 “He shall flay the burnt offering and quarter it [ʾotah] into quarters” (Lev. 1:6): Might it be that he quarters the quarters? Scripture teaches, saying “it” [ʾotah], he quarters it and does not quarter its quarters. Might it be that the ritually unfit animal requires flaying

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and quartering? Scripture teaches, saying “it” [ʾotah], the ritually fit and not the ritually unfit. (Nedavah pereq 5.7, Weiss 7a; TK 24) We have here two yakhol derashot that reject possible readings on putatively scriptural grounds: “Scripture teaches, saying ‘it’ [ʾotah], he quarters it and does not quarter its quarters” and “Scripture teaches, saying ‘it’ [ʾotah], the ritually fit and not the ritually unfit.” Since the derashah merely re-cites Leviticus 1:6, it falls to the gloss to exclude the multiple quarterings and the ritually unfit offerings. Stripped of its rhetorical trappings, then, the derashah consists of two excluding glosses: “‘it’ [ʾotah]—not its quarters” and “‘it’ [ʾotah]—the ritually fit and not the ritually unfit.” The connection between yakhol . . . talmud lomar and exclusion glosses is thematized in a number of derashot: §3.7 “This is [zoʾt] the ritual of the burnt offering” (Lev. 6:2): Might it be [yakhol]16 . . . that they, too, are sacrificed? Scripture teaches, saying “this is the ritual of the burnt offering”—behold these [the words zoʾt and hiʾ] are markers of exclusion [miʿuṭim]. (Tzav pereq 1.8, Weiss 29b; TK 129)17 The yakhol scenarios are rejected by a talmud lomar citation, which the Sifra justifies on the grounds that the verse contains pronouns that function as markers of exclusion. Elsewhere, the Sifra juxtaposes exclusion glosses and a yakhol . . . talmud lomar argument: §3.8 “The priest having put on linen raiment [with linen breeches next to his body, shall remove the ashes to which the fire has reduced the burnt offering]” (Lev. 6:3): “linen”—they should be of byssus [butz]; “linen”—they should be new; “linen”—they should be woven of twofold ply; “linen”—that no other garments should be worn with them. Might it be [yakhol] that one ought not to wear flax garments with them but may wear wool garments? Scripture teaches [talmud lomar], saying “linen.” (Tzav pereq 2.1, Weiss 29d; TK 131–132) The first four arguments are exclusions based on “linen,” which teaches that the priest’s clothing must be made of byssus,18 new, woven of twofold ply, and cannot be worn with other garments. Then the Sifra abruptly shifts rhetorical gears and introduces a yakhol . . . talmud lomar argument—it, too, based on



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“linen.” The seamless transition from excluding glosses to yakhol . . . talmud lomar further indicates that the hermeneutic assumptions animating them are the same: for all its scriptural pretense, yakhol . . . talmud lomar is simply a camouflaged miʿuṭ. Indeed, substituting a fifth exclusion gloss for the yakhol . . . talmud lomar leaves the derashah unchanged in all but its rhetoric: *“linen”—they should be of byssus; “linen”—they should be new; “linen”—they should be woven of twofold ply; “linen”—that no other garments should be worn with them; “linen”—they should not wear wool garments. Or consider the following couplet of derashot, drawn from different parts of the Sifra. Both interpret verses that contain the word yom (“day”) and examine whether a commandment holds only during the day or perhaps at night, too: §3.9 “On the seventh [day, he shall shave off all his hair]” (Lev. 14:9): Might this mean [yakhol]—either in the daytime or at night? Scripture teaches [talmud lomar], saying “day”—not at night. (Metzoraʿ pereq 2.1, Weiss 71b; TK 293) §3.10 “On the first day, you shall take for yourselves the boughs of majestic trees” (Lev. 23:40): In the day, not at night. (ʾEmor pereq 16.3, Weiss 102d; TK 458)19 The only difference between §3.9 and §3.10 is the rhetorical framing of the gloss. In §3.9, it follows the talmud lomar citation; in §3.10, it follows the initial occurrence of the verse. Since the talmud lomar merely reintroduces the original verse, the two derashot are, au fond, the same procedure: a miʿuṭ gloss. The same dynamic holds with “whence . . . Scripture teaches, saying” (minayin . . . talmud lomar) derashot, which yield inclusion glosses, ribbuyim. The Sifra itself adverts to the hermeneutic identity between these procedures in the nearly two hundred derashot that begin with the question “Whence to include . . .” (minayin lerabbot): §3.11 “And the flesh of his thanksgiving sacrifice of well-being [shall be eaten on the day that it is offered]” (Lev. 7:15): I know only regarding the thanksgiving offering, whence to include [minayin lerabbot] the bread? Scripture teaches, saying “his . . . sacrifice”; whence to include the offering of young animals and the substitution offerings?

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Scripture teaches, saying “and the flesh”; whence to include the purification offering and the reparation offering? Scripture teaches, saying “sacrifice”; whence to include the well-being offerings of the Nazirite and the well-being offerings sacrificed on account of Passover? Scripture teaches, saying “of well-being.” (Tzav pereq 12.1, Weiss 35c; TK 158) The hermeneutic equivalence of yakhol and miʿuṭ, on the one hand, and of minayin and ribbui, on the other, is further apparent in the possibility of “transcribing” yakhol/minayin . . . talmud lomar arguments into inclusion/ exclusion glosses, without any loss of meaning. As noted above, §1.10 can be rewritten as: *“He shall flay the burnt offering and quarter it into quarters” (Lev. 1:6): “it [ʾotah]” he quarters it and does not quarter its quarters; “it [ʾotah]” he offers the ritually fit and not the ritually unfit. And §3.5 can be rewritten as: *“When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not destroy the edge of your field in reaping, and gleanings of your harvest you shall not gather” (Lev. 19:9): “In reaping”—to include one who plucks; “your harvest”—to include one who picks; “your land”—to include legumes; “your field”—to include trees. Such examples could be multiplied to cover all the same-verse yakhol/minayin . . . talmud lomar derashot, since, structurally, a repeated prooftext is a glossed prooftext, regardless of whether the gloss is stated explicitly. The question lurking in the background of our discussion is: Why does the Sifra employ the terminology of yakhol . . . talmud lomar for arguments that are, in truth, inclusion and exclusion glosses? Why, in other words, does it use a scripturalist rhetoric to camouflage glosses? This is a complicated question that will occupy much of Parts II and III of this book. For now, I offer a brief survey of other formulas that are intertextual in some tannaitic sources but not in the anonymous derashot of the Sifra.



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Logical Argument (Din) As discussed in Scripture as Logos, the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim employ din—logical argument (especially qol va-ḥomer, “inference from the lesser to the greater”)—in a number of ways. Many din arguments are legitimate and their conclusions are accepted without further debate. But if a din argument fails to resolve a question, it falls to Scripture to do so—invariably, in the form of a talmud lomar citation.20 As the Mekhilta states in one passage, “Since I could not succeed in proving it by logical inference [din], Scripture [ha-katuv] has to cite it.”21 The Sifra, too, contrasts din and Scripture; and in a few (usually named) derashot, the dynamic between the two is similar to that found in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.22 Heretofore unnoticed is that many of the Sifra’s din arguments conclude with talmud lomar formulas that introduce an explicitly or implicitly glossed prooftext. §3.12 “[When a person . . . has dissembled to his fellow . . . when one has thus sinned and, feeling guilt, he shall return that which he robbed or that which he withheld . . . or anything else about which he swore falsely] he shall repay it [ʾoto] according to the principal amount and add one-fifth to it” (Lev. 5:21–24): “He shall repay it”— he shall repay it but shall not repay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property. But might we not learn by din: just as one who levels an accusation of theft is not obligated to pay a fine equal to a fifth of the value of the property or a reparation offering but does pay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property, the present case, regarding one who is obligated to pay an additional fifth and make a reparation offering, is it not din that he pay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property? [Scripture] teaches, saying “he shall repay it”—he shall repay it but he shall not repay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property. (Ḥovah parashah 13.9, Weiss 28c; TK 126) Both the structure and rhetoric of this derashah are similar to the corresponding arguments in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim: an initial din interpretation is offered but, after analysis of variable length and coherence, is rejected by the talmud lomar verse. But two important differences stand out. First, the din argument does not respond to the verse but to the Sifra’s gloss: “he shall repay it but shall not repay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property.” It is this

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statement (and not Leviticus’s general assertion that “he shall repay it”) that precipitates the din argument that the dissembler should indeed repay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property. Second, the Sifra ultimately rejects the din argument by invoking the same gloss: “Scripture teaches, saying ‘he shall repay it’—he shall repay it but he shall not repay a fine equal to the value of the stolen property.” The Sifra’s solipsism is remarkable. The Sifra glosses the verse, introduces a din argument that calls the gloss into question, and then repeats the same gloss, which somehow refutes the din argument that had just refuted it. Though long and elaborate, the next example leads nowhere—and that is precisely the point. I cite it to demonstrate the lengths to which the Sifra will go to produce elaborate din arguments, to no hermeneutic end: §3.13 “[If it is the anointed priest who has incurred guilt, so that the blame falls upon the people, he shall offer for the sin of which he is guilty] a bull” (Lev. 4:3): He offers a bull but he does not offer substitute offerings. But it is learned by din, if the individual, whose offering for all the commandments is not equivalent to his offering on Yom Kippur, but his offering for all the commandments is identical with the unique commandment [idolatry], the anointed priest, whose offering for all the commandments is identical with his offering on Yom Kippur, is it not din that that his offering for all the commandments be identical with his offering for the unique commandment? The chieftain offers proof since his offering for all the commandments is identical with his offering for Yom Kippur, but his offering for all the commandments is not identical with his offering for the unique commandment. Nor should you wonder at the anointed priest, namely, that even though his offering for all the commandments is identical with his Yom Kippur offering, it is not identical to his offering for the unique commandment. For this is as it is said, “he shall offer,” might it be that he offers a substitute offering? Scripture teaches, saying “a bull”: He offers a bull but he does not offer substitute offerings. (Ḥovah parashah 3.1–3, Weiss 17c; TK 75–76) The Sifra opens with an exclusion gloss of the word “bull”: a priest who has transgressed must offer a bull as a sacrifice and not a substitute offering. This is followed by a complex din argument based on the offerings brought by different transgressors (the Israelite, the high priest, and the chieftain) for different categories of transgression (general commandments, Yom Kippur offerings, and idolatry), as per Tables 3, 4, and 5.23



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Table 3. Individual Sin

1. General Commandments

2. Yom Kippur

3. Idolatry

Offering

ewe or she-goat

goat

she-goat

Source

“If a person among the populace does wrong inadvertently . . . he shall bring as his offering a shegoat without blemish.” (Lev. 4:28)

“[Aaron] shall then slaughter the people’s goat of purification offering.” (Lev. 16:15)

“An individual who sins unintentionally shall present a shegoat a year old for a purification offering.” (Num. 15:27)

Table 4. High Priest Sin

1. General Commandments

2. Yom Kippur

3. Idolatry

Offering

bull

bull

she-goat

Source

“If it is the anointed priest who has incurred guilt . . . he shall offer for the sin of which he is guilty a bull.” (Lev. 4:3)

“Aaron shall bring forward his own bull of purification offering to effect purgation for himself and for his household.” (Lev. 16:6)

The high priest is included in the individual’s purification: “An individual who sins unintentionally shall present a she-goat a year old for a purification offering.” (Num. 15:27)

Using these categories as building blocks, the Sifra’s din argument runs as follows: i. Individuals do not offer the same offering for general transgressions (3.1 = she-goat) and for Yom Kippur (3.2 = male goat). ii. Individuals nonetheless make the same offering for general transgressions (3.1 = she-goat) and for idolatry (3.3 = she-goat). iii. The high priest, in contrast, offers the same offering for general transgressions (4.1) and for Yom Kippur (4.2): a bull. iv. If the Israelite’s offerings, which are not uniform with regard to the general transgressions and Yom Kippur (3.1 ≠ 3.2), are uniform with regard to the general transgressions and idolatry (3.1. = 3.3), should it not be the case that the high priest’s offering that are uniform with regard to the general transgressions and Yom Kippur (4.1 = 4.2) be uniform with regard to idolatry? In

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other words, should the high priest not be permitted to offer a she-goat as a purification for the general commandments (4.1)? If so, the she-goat would count as a substitute offering for the bull, thereby contradicting the initial gloss (the high priest “offers a bull but he does not offer a substitute offering”). Table 5. Chieftain Sin

1. General Commandments

2. Yom Kippur

3. Idolatry

Offering Source

goat “When the chieftain does wrong . . . he shall bring as his offering a male goat without blemish.” (Lev. 4:23)

goat The chieftain is included in the people’s purification: “[Aaron] shall then slaughter the people’s goat of purification offering.” (Lev 16:15)

she-goat The chieftain is included in the individual’s purification: “An individual who sins unintentionally shall present a she-goat a year old for a purification offering.” (Num. 15:27)

Having offered one din argument, the Sifra now rejects it on the basis of another, this one based on an analogy drawn from the chieftain: v. The chieftain offers a male goat for general transgressions (5.1) and for the Yom Kippur service (5.2). vi. But the chieftain makes a different offering for inadvertent transgressions of idolatry (5.3): a she-goat. The argument of clauses (i)–(iv) is that the identity between the Israelite individuals’ offering for general transgressions and for idolatry is normative, and the same should be expected of the high priest. Clauses (v) and (vi), however, give the lie to the claim of normativity, since the chieftain offers different purification sacrifices for general transgressions and for idolatry. The case of the chieftain, then, indicates that the high priest’s nonidentical offerings are not anomalous. Indeed, the high priest’s actions are scripturally sanctioned, for “Scripture teaches, saying ‘a bull’: He offers a bull but he does not offer substitute offerings.” Or at least that is what the Sifra would have the reader think—for, while the Sifra appears to return to Scripture, in fact it merely repeats the opening miʿuṭ gloss, which is no more scriptural than the dialectic din arguments that



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follow. The result is once again solipsism. Scripture states only that the high priest’s purification offering is a bull; it is the gloss—“he offers a bull but he does not offer substitute offerings”—that prompts the first din argument that the priest ought be able to substitute a she-goat for the scripturally sanctioned bull and, after all its complex dialectical refutations and counter-refutations, it is the same gloss that decides the argument. We are, quite literally, right back where we started, as all of §3.13 can be reduced to the following, with no loss of meaning: *“[If it is the anointed priest . . . he shall offer] a bull” (Lev. 4:3): He offers a bull but he does not offer a substitute offering. As this elaborate derashah indicates, the reducibility of same-verse talmud lomar arguments (minayin, yakhol, din) to exclusion or inclusion glosses is structural, independent of the specific content of the derashah. If the concluding verse does not provide new information, the din argument is, heremeneutically speaking, reduced to a gloss—regardless of rhetorical camouflage.

Rhetorical Isolates I want to examine three common Ishmaelian formulas that appear occasionally in the Sifra as well: “What is the instruction?” (mah talmud lomar); “If so, why is this stated?” (ʾim ken lammah neʾemar); and “What meaning do I establish?” (mah ʾani meqayyem). All three have a clearly defined role in the hermeneutics of Rabbi Ishmael; but in the Sifra, they can border on incoherence. I have discussed these formulas’ Ishmaelian employment in Scripture as Logos, so that aspect receives only brief notice in what follows. In the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, “What is the instruction?” (mah talmud lomar) draws attention to the markedness of a verse, especially one that prima facie appears redundant or otherwise unnecessary.24 The Sifra contains a handful of derashot that employ mah talmud lomar in this manner, most of them attributed to a named authority.25 Alongside these, however, are derashot such as the following: §3.14 “If it is the anointed who does wrong” (Lev. 4:3): What is the instruction [mah talmud lomar]? Might it be [yakhol] that he will bring offerings for wrongdoings perpetrated prior [to his

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appointment]? We learn by reasoned argument. (Ḥovah parashah 2.6, Weiss 17a; TK 72) The opening question, “What is the instruction?” casts itself as a response to a hermeneutic marker—“What is the instruction of this textual irregularity?”—but none is identified. Instead, a yakhol argument follows immediately, the likes of which appear on every page of the Sifra without pretext that the biblical verse is unclear. Even when the Sifra does refer to a scriptural difficulty, the juxtaposition of mah talmud lomar and yakhol renders the formula pointless. Leviticus 5:2 presents the theme of its instruction as “any impure thing” but nevertheless repeats the adjective for each enumerated instance: “Or when a person touches any impure thing—be it the carcass of an impure wild quadruped or the carcass of an impure domesticated quadruped or the carcass of an impure swarming creature.” The question “What is the instruction?” is, then, plausible and should initiate a midrashic discussion of the apparent redundancy. Instead, the Sifra places a yakhol argument immediately after mah talmud lomar, a meaningless juxtaposition, since these are distinct and ultimately incompatible formulas engaging the same hermeneutic issue. As is its wont, yakhol paves the way for an inclusion, and the opening question is never addressed—the derashah loses nothing by the elimination of the mah talmud lomar formula, except a measure of unwieldiness. A similar situation holds with “If so, why was this stated?” (ʾim ken lammah neʾemar), another formula that establishes hermeneutic markedness in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim; it refers to a lexeme or a phrase that is not needed for the proposed interpretation.26 This usage is attested in the Sifra as well,27 but several of its derashot cite the formula incongruously: §1.15 “And if anyone [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel or of the alien who reside among them ingests any blood” (Lev. 17:10): “Israel”—this is Israel. “Alien”—these are the aliens. “Who resides” to include the wives of the aliens. “Among them” to include women and slaves. If so, why is ʾish ʾish stated? Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon says: “To introduce the offspring of an Israelite women from a Gentile or from a slave.” (Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2, Weiss 84c; TK 363) In the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, the phrase indicates that a proposed interpretation of a verse has been disproved and that it is now necessary to find the midrashic import of the “orphaned” verse. The verse was not stated for the reason



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you proposed—why, then, was it stated? None of this logic is operative in the above derashah. The phrase ʾish ʾish is arguably a hermeneutic marker, but the formula “if so, why was ʾish ʾish stated” does no interpretive work—first, because no interpretation has been rejected; and second, because the adduced interpretation is an inclusion gloss, no different from the four that precede it. In other derashot, the formula does not result in incongruity but in a perverse argument: §3.15 “You shall not insult the deaf [and before the blind you shall not put a stumbling block]” (Lev. 19:14): I know only regarding the deaf, whence to include all people? Scripture teaches, saying “You shall not . . . curse [the ruler of]28 your people” (Exod. 22:28). If so, why is “deaf” stated? Just as a deaf person is distinguished [meyuḥad] by being alive, he precludes the dead person, who is not alive. (Qedoshim parashah 2.13, Weiss 88d; TK 398) This derashah consists of an inclusion gloss followed by “if so, why is it stated,” here used in a more coherent manner: Leviticus 19:14 specifies “deaf,” and another verse shows that the prohibition is broader, so we are justified in returning to the original formulation and questioning its function. I cite the derashah all the same because—formal consistency notwithstanding—the argument built around the formula is utterly incoherent. The derashah opens with an “I know only regarding . . . whence . . .” formula that expands the scope of the prohibition against insulting the deaf to all people, by reference to Exodus 22:28, “You shall not revile the judges [ʾelohim], nor curse the ruler of your people.” How this verse expands the scope of Leviticus 19:14 is not clear. Regardless, the Sifra then asks: if insulting is broadly prohibited, “why is ‘deaf’ stated?” Because, it reasons, the deaf are distinguished in that they are alive, thereby precluding the dead from the biblical prohibition. But this is startlingly odd. In what sense are the deaf “distinguished” by being alive, and why would Leviticus adduce the deaf to exclude the dead from the prohibition? The logic of the verse should be precisely the opposite: the deaf cannot hear the belittling comments of others, yet the Torah nonetheless prohibits such utterances—so, too, the dead, who are similarly unaware of their defamation, should be included in the prohibition. In short, though the Sifra employs the formula in a formally coherent manner, the resulting argument is hermeneutically unintelligible. A third formula of this type, “What meaning do I establish?,” applies when an interpretation is rejected because the proposed conclusion is learned from another verse, and the interpreter must offer a new interpretation of the

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initial verse. In contrast with “If so, why was this stated?,” which addresses verses orphaned when their interpretation is deemed incorrect, “What meaning do I establish?” applies to verses whose proposed interpretation is correct but has already been established from another verse.29 The Sifra contains numerous derashot that employ “What meaning do I establish?” in the manner described above but also several questionable derashot: §3.16 “[On the eighth day,] the flesh [of his foreskin shall be circumcised]” (Lev. 12:3): Even though there is a shiny mark [baheret] there. If so, what do I establish regarding “guard against an outbreak of a scale disease” (Deut. 24:8)? Except for the case of circumcision. Or, alternatively, “guard against an outbreak of a scale disease” even with regard to circumcision. And what would I establish regarding “the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised”? So long as there is no shiny mark. Scripture teaches, saying “flesh,” even though there is a shiny mark. (Tazriʿa pereq 1.4, Weiss 58c; TK 244) Our derashah counterposes two biblical instructions. Deuteronomy 24:8 instructs the Israelites to guard against scale disease, while Leviticus 12:3 commands that the foreskin of the infant boy be circumcised on the eighth day. The Sifra first assigns priority to circumcision (“‘Flesh’—even though there is a shiny mark there”), then calls the gloss into question. Does “guard against an outbreak of a scale disease” hold in all cases except that of circumcision (allowing the circumcision to take place even if there is shiny mark, as per the initial gloss)? Or perhaps “guard against an outbreak” includes circumcision, and the rite is to be postponed until after the shiny mark has cleared? The Sifra introduces these readings with two “what do I establish” formulas: if the initial gloss is dispositive, what do I establish regarding Deuteronomy 24:8? But if “guard against . . . scale disease” is dispositive, what do I establish regarding Leviticus 12:3? At this point, the Sifra resolves the question by means of a talmud lomar that repeats the opening verse and its gloss verbatim—another example of its solipsistic hermeneutic—rendering the preceding negotiations all but meaningless.30

The Context of Markedness The different employment of the above formulas points to a deeper division between the sources in which they are embedded, with implications for the



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broader conceptual framework that underwrites the formulas.31 In the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, the formulas are anchored in the assumption that every hermeneutically marked lexeme imparts a single instruction and that every instruction is derived from a single lexeme.32 We have already seen that “What do I establish?” (mah ʾani meqayyem?) is founded on the first assumption: every (marked) verse communicates an instruction, and if a proposed interpretation is rejected, it is incumbent upon the interpreter to identify the correct teaching of the verse. No verse, then, can remain “empty” with regard to instructions. “If so, why was this stated” (ʾim ken lammah neʾemar) asserts the corollary: an other­ wise legitimate interpretation of a verse must be rejected if its instruction has already been established by another verse. Two verses cannot “share” a single instruction; each conclusion must be learned from a single verse.33 An analogy to “What do I establish?” is a library system that has the same number of books as patrons, with each book checked out to a single patron. If patron 1 has book A but wants book B, that book must be removed from patron 2. Now, since no library patron can be without a book (no patron can be “empty” in this respect), patron 2 must be provided with a new book, book 3. The corollary analogy: If it was assumed that book 3 was checked out by patron C, but this turns out not to be the case, , it is necessary to find the patron who does possess it. In this library analogy, the patrons represent the biblical verses, and the books the legal instructions learned from the verses. A verse can yield an instruction so long as the same instruction is not already established by another verse; and if an instruction is detached from what had been thought to be its scriptural basis, it is necessary to find the verse from which it may be derived. It is clear that none of these principles holds for the anonymous Sifra, which blithely links several conclusions to a single verse and derives the same conclusion from various verses. Even when the anonymous Sifra employs one of the above formulas in a coherent manner, the derashah remains problematic inasmuch as it is located in an interpretive environment that does not recognize the hermeneutic principles that animate these formulas.

Conclusion The analysis of ribbah ha-katuv and miʿeṭ ha-katuv in the second half of the previous chapter was a single witness to a potentially broader phenomenon—terms that have different meanings in different midrashic corpora and within different strata of the same work. The present chapter has shown the phenomenon to be

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more widespread and, equally important, situated at the very heart of the Sifra’s interpretive practices. Where the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim (and some Sifra derashot) employ “minayin/yakhol  . . . talmud lomar…” as framing mechanisms for holistic, intertextual analysis, the majority of their Sifra counterparts are not of this type. By having the initial verse do double duty as the conclusive talmud lomar prooftext as well, these derashot become de facto glosses. Indeed, derashot that open with minayin can be transcribed, as it were, into a different hermeneutic key and rewritten as ribbuyim; yakhol derashot can be transcribed as miʿuṭim. The same is true of din, a very productive formula in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim that, denuded of genuine engagement with Scripture, becomes an elaborately camouflaged gloss in the Sifra. Finally, I briefly surveyed three formulas whose interpretive function is rooted in the Ishmaelian view regarding the relationship between biblical verses and the instruction that they provide. These are formulas that the anonymous Sifra does not—and, in a deep sense, cannot—employ correctly. My analysis thus far may reads as a litany of negative statements: the Sifra claims a commitment to hermeneutic markers but employs them inconsistently; it is unclear what certain Sifra derashot add to the verse; it is often impossible to recover the rules that govern inclusion and exclusion glosses; scripturalist terms in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim appear in the Sifra in different, often incoherent, senses; interpretive claims are rhetorically ornate discontinuous glosses; and so on. But this is only part of the picture. Each of the elements just listed is a positive component of what I have christened a hermeneutic of camouflage. The deft deployment of interpretive terms, the faculty for producing surface continuity even while radically altering the deep structures, the ability to rework inclusion and exclusion glosses into scripture-centered minayin and yakhol derashot and pass off vacuous statements as intricate din arguments—all these reflect the work of a meticulous (and, historically speaking, wildly successful) editorial hand. Working toward what end? Briefly stated: to recast legal rulings originally accepted as extra-scriptural traditions—the halakhot of Oral Torah—as though they were midrashim. I offer my justification for this claim in the next chapter, on the role of extra-scriptural traditions in the Sifra.

Chapter 4

“On the Basis of This, They Said” (Mikan ʾAmru) and the Role of Scripture

What is mishnah? Rabbi Meir says: halakhot; Rabbi Judah says: midrash. —b. Qiddushin 49a

Hoffmann’s foundational study of legal midrash opens with a discussion of the dual nature of tannaitic legal arguments, transmitted as they are in both apodictic (without reference to Scripture) and interpretive form—halakhot1 and midrash, respectively:2 Table 6. §4.1 Sifra

Mishnah

“Any that has hoofs, with clefts, and that chews its cud from among the quadrupeds—it may you eat” (Lev. 11:3): “It may you eat,” to include the embryo. Might it be that this is the case even if it emerges only partially? Scripture teaches, saying “it.” (­Shemini pereq 3.1, Weiss 48b; TK 205)

If a man slaughtered a quadruped and found therein an embryo, he whose appetite is robust may eat it. . . . If the embryo emerged only partially, it is forbidden as food. (m. Ḥullin 4.7)

As this example indicates, the relationship between midrash and Oral Law has stood at the forefront of the critical study of rabbinic literature from the outset and will be taken up in greater detail in Chapter 9. For now, I continue the analytic trajectory of the preceding chapters, examining “on the basis of

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this, they said” (mikan ʾamru), a key formula common to the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and the Sifra, which thematizes the relationship between the apodictic and the midrashic law. The plain sense of the formula posits the priority of midrash over mishnah: though there is an apodictic version of a law, it was said mikan, “on the basis” (lit., “from here”) of the derashah under discussion.3 The formula appears in both Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva sources, as well as in the Mishnah and the Tosefta, and consists of a biblical verse, its interpretation, the formula mikan ʾamru, and a halakhic dictum. The most comprehensive survey of mikan ʾamru passages is Ezra Zion Melammed’s study of parallels between the Mishnah and Tosefta, on the one hand, and the legal midrashim, on the other,4 a study that offers a wealth of textual material but only minimal—and often problematic—analysis. Melammed collects every parallel or near-parallel recorded both in the midrashic and apodictic corpora, and counts them all as evidence for the dominance of the Mishnah and its influence on the midrashic collections.5 Melammed’s approach fails, I think, to appreciate the significant differences in the employment of this formula in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and in the Sifra, as the following analysis demonstrates.6

Mikan ʾAmru in the Mekhilta

The formula mikan ʾamru appears fifty-odd times in the Mekhilta, though not all the occurrences are germane to this study. I will not discuss derashot that introduce non-Mishnah statements or general dicta that most likely circulated among the sages (or broader circles) and that cannot be assumed to originate in the Mishnah.7 Instead, I concentrate on mikan ʾamru formulas that introduce mishnaic legal dicta. Of these, it should be noted, a sizable Table 7 Mekhilta

Mishnah

“[You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month]; then the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight” (Exod. 12:6): On the basis of this, they stated: “The paschal offering was slaughtered in three groups: ‘assembly,’ ‘congregation,’ and ‘Israel.’” (Pisḥa 5, Horovitz-Rabin, 17; Lauterbach 1:42)

The paschal offering was slaughtered in three groups, for it is written: “then the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight.” (Exod. 12:6) (Pesaḥim 5.5)



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number are statements that the Mishnah itself identifies as midrashic, as we see in Table 7. Whatever the compositional and redactional history of these passages, they agree that the paschal offering is derived from Exodus 12:6, so the Mekhilta’s mikan ʾamru functions as a reference—a footnote, almost—to the midrashic argument in the Mishnah. In the course of discussing Exodus 12:6, the Mekhilta notes that it is the basis for the Mishnah’s statement, as the Mishnah itself asserts. Similar passages: i. Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin, 71; Lauterbach, 1:162) and Neziqin 3 (Horovitz-Rabin, 257; Lauterbach 3:24) introduce m. Bekhorot 1.7, which cites Exod. 34:20 and Exod. 21:8 as prooftexts. ii. Kaspaʾ 19 (Horovitz-Rabin, 319; Lauterbach 3:153–154) introduces m. Terumot 3.6, which cites Exod. 22:29 as a prooftext. iii. Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin, 71; Lauterbach 1:161) introduces (“on the basis of this, Rabbi Yose the Galilean said”) m. Bekhorot 2.6, which cites Exod. 13:12 as a prooftext. iv. Neziqin 10 (Horovitz-Rabin, 284; Lauterbach 3:84) introduces m. Babaʾ Qamaʾ 4.9, which cites Exod. 21:29 as a prooftext. v. Kaspaʾ 1 (Horovitz-Rabin, 316; Lauterbach 3:149–150) introduces a paraphrase of m. Baba Metziaʿh 5.11, which cites Lev. 25:37, 25:36, 19:14 and Exod. 22:25 as prooftexts. vi. Kaspaʾ 1 (Horovitz-Rabin, 318; Lauterbach 3:153–154) introduces m. Terumot 3.6, which cites Exod. 22:29 as a prooftext. vii. Kaspaʾ 20 (Horovitz-Rabin, 328; Lauterbach 3:172–173)8 introduces m. Peʾah 8.9, which cites Exod. 23:8 as a prooftext. viii. Baḥodesh 3 (Horovitz-Rabin, 214; Lauterbach 2:217)9 introduces m. Mikvaʾot 8.3, along with parallels, which refers to the Sinai narrative as its basis. Note that the above list is limited to Mekhilta derashot that employ mikan ʾamru; other derashot introduce scripturally anchored mishnayot without using this introductory formula.10

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Implicit Midrashim Several mikan ʾamru passages in the Mekhilta introduce mishnayot that do not cite a biblical verse but can plausibly be construed as being implicitly midrashic: “Three times in the year you shall hold festivals [regalim] for me. . . . Three times in the year all your males shall see11 the Lord God” (Exod. 23:14–17): “Three regalim”—this applies to those who can travel on foot [regel]; “shall see”—this precludes the blind; “your males”—this precludes the women; “all your males”—this precludes the aliens, the individual of doubtful sex [ṭumṭum], and the androgyne. “[When all Israel comes to appear before the Lord your God] you shall read this law before all Israel in their hearing” (Deut. 31:11): “All Israel”—to preclude the aliens and the slaves; “in their hearing”—to preclude the deaf. “Rejoice before the Lord” (Deut. 16:11): “Rejoice”—to preclude the sick and the minor. On the basis of this, they stated: “All are commanded to appear before the Lord excepting a deaf-mute, an imbecile, a minor, one of doubtful sex, an androgyne, women, slaves that have not been freed, a man that is lame or blind or sick or aged, and one that cannot go up [to Jerusalem] on his feet.” (m. Ḥagigah 1.1) (Mekhilta Kaspaʾ 20, Horovitz-Rabin, 333; Lauterbach 3:182–183) Gathering a number of biblical sources that deal with the pilgrimage festivals, the Mekhilta offers a series of interpretations that preclude various groups from the commandment to see God during the festivals: the lame— because of a play on the Hebrew regel, a homonym meaning both “pilgrimage festival” and “foot”; the blind—because the Israelites are commanded to see; the women, individuals of doubtful sex, and androgynes—because Deuteronomy 31:11 addresses “all your males” (kol zekhorkha midrashically understood as “one entirely male”); and so forth. The Mekhilta then introduces (“on the basis of this, they stated”) m. Ḥagigah 1.1, which contains roughly the same list, and, though formulated as an apodictic statement, it may be reasonably understood as scripturally based. Nota bene: I am not claiming that it is scripturally based but only that the Mekhilta’s claim that this mishnah is midrashic is plausible.12 Additional “implicit midrash” arguments include:



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ix. Mekhilta Neziqin 16 (Horovitz-Rabin, 304; Lauterbach 3:124) posits Exod. 22:11, “the owner shall accept the oath, and will not make payment,” as the basis for m. Shevuʿot 7.1, which states that the bailee may take an oath of innocence and need not offer restitution. x. Pisḥa 5 (Horovitz-Rabin, 16; Lauterbach 1:39–40) posits Exod. 12:6, “[On the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb . . .] you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; they the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight” as the basis for m. ʿArakhin 2.5, “There were never fewer than six inspected lambs in the lambfold, sufficient for a Sabbath and the two festival days of the New Year, though their number could be increased without end.” The argument is based on an analogy, gezerah shavah, between the paschal offering and the daily offering (tamid), and Exodus’s required four-day examination period for the former. Priests must keep a minimum of six lambs on hand, so that they could offer two each on the Sabbath and the following two days of New Year. xi. Pisḥa 17 (Horovitz-Rabin, 65; Lauterbach 1:147) posits Exod. 13:7, “[Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread . . .] Unleavened bread shall be eaten for seven days; no leavened bread shall be seen in your possession, and no leaven shall be seen among you in all your territory,” which references unleavened bread three times, as the basis for m. Pesaḥim 1.3’s assertion that the search for leaven can be conducted on three occasions. xii. Neziqin 1 (Horovitz-Rabin, 246; Lauterbach 3:2) posits Exod. 21:1, “These are the ordinances that you shall set before [Israel],” and its emphasis on the Israelites as recipients of God’s law, as the basis for m. Gittin 9.8’s assertion that a “bill of divorce given under compulsion is valid if it is ordered by an Israelite court, but if by a Gentile court it is invalid.” xiii. Mekhilta Neziqin 15 (Horovitz-Rabin, 302; Lauterbach 3:119) posits the thrice-mentioned ʾelohim (understood as “judges”) of Exod. 22:6–8 as the basis for m. Sanhedrin 1.1: “civil cases are decided by three judges.” The plausibility of the Mekhilta’s claims regarding the midrashic nature of these mishnaic dicta varies. Some derashot appear to be strongly rooted in the biblical

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text; for others, the scriptural claim is more forced. But even clause (xii), the plausibility outlier, offers a thematically and hermeneutically cogent connection between the verse and the dictum.13 If so, the mikan ʾamru derashot surveyed thus far fall into two categories: those that “footnote” mishnayot that cite a verse and are trivially correct statements about the soi disant origin of the Mishnah passages; and those that make a plausible or at least coherent midrashic claim regarding the Mishnah dicta. Before surveying the Sifra, it should be noted that the above analysis has significant ramifications for some widely held view regarding mikan ʾamru. J. N. Epstein has argued that the phrase was originally limited to the Rabbi Akiva midrashim and later interpolated into the Rabbi Ishmael works.14 However, both the Mekhilta’s mikan ʾamru categories, but especially the first, refute the notion that the formula is an interpolation. There is, of course, a sense in which mikan ʾamru formulas are, like footnotes, not an organic part of the text and thus “interpolated.” But this is not a redactional interpolation. To the contrary, repeated references to midrashically justified mishnayot fit well with the scripturalist approach of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and may even have a polemic connotation: the Mishnah itself admits that (some of) its teachings are derived from Scripture.15

Mikan ʾAmru in the Sifra

Turning to the Sifra, we find many more occurrences of mikan ʾamru, but almost none introduce Mishnah statements that contain biblical prooftexts. Here is a summary, divided by section, with the full list enumerated in the endnotes and prooftexted derashot in bold typeface. i. Nedavah: 3 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot16 ii. Tzav: 4 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot17 iii. Shemini: 7 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot18 iv. Tazriʿa: 9 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 1 introduces a scriptural mishnah19 v. Metzoraʿ Negaʿim: 6 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot 20



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vi. Metzoraʿ Zavim: 4 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot21 vii. Aḥare Mot: 1 mikan ʾamru derashah, which does not introduce scriptural mishnayot 22 viii. Qedoshim: 8 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 1 introduces a scriptural mishnah23 ix. ʾEmor: 5 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot 24 x. Behar: 5 mikan ʾamru derashot, of which 0 introduce scriptural mishnayot25 xi. Beḥuqotai: 1 mikan ʾamru derashah, which does not introduce a scriptural mishnah26 Of fifty-three Mishnah parallels introduced by mikan ʾamru,27 then, only two cite biblical prooftexts. Remarkably, in a greater number of cases, the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru derashot cite dicta that the Mishnah expressly characterizes as non-scriptural. Tables 8–11 juxtapose Sifra and Mishnah passages, with the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru dictum underlined (beginning in the left column and picking up at the first underlined word in the right). Table 8. §4.2 Sifra

Mishnah

“[Everything in water that has no fins and scales] it is an abomination [sheqetz huʾ] for you” (Lev. 11:12): Excepting admixtures. On the basis of this, the sages stated . . . (Shemini pereq 5.10, Weiss 51a; TK 212)

Rabbi Zadok testified that the brine of impure locusts is pure. But the first mishnah [taught] if impure locusts were pickled together with pure locusts, they do not render the brine forbidden. (m. ʿEduyot 7.2)

As the break in the underline indicates, “Rabbi Zadok testified . . . but the first mishnah . . .” appears in the Mishnah but not in the Sifra’s (truncated) quotation. The omission is critical because the Sifra presents the derashah as the basis for the sages’ legal position, but the Mishnah introduces this dictum as part of an extra-scriptural dispute: Rabbi Zadok testifies that brine of impure locusts is pure, though the earlier mishnah states that only admixtures of pure and impure locust brine are pure. The terms testify, to

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declare a received tradition, and mishnah riʾshonah are drawn from the lexicon of oral-traditional transmission.28 Table 9. §4.3 Sifra

Mishnah

“When a person has . . . a shiny mark and it develops into a scaly affection . . .] if hair in the affection has turned white . . .” (Lev. 13:2–3): Not if [the whiteness] preceded it. On the basis of this, they stated.. . . (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 2.2, Weiss 60c; TK 223)

If in a shiny mark the size of half a split bean nothing else appeared but [beside it] appeared a shiny mark the size of half a split bean in which there were two hairs, it must be certified impure, since they have said: If the shiny mark came before the white hair, he is impure; but if the white hair came before the bright spot, he is pure; and if it is in doubt, he is impure. (m. Negaʿim 4.11)

The Sifra claims that the ruling is based on the gloss of Leviticus 13:3, while the Mishnah introduces it as an extra-scriptural tradition: “they have said.” Table 10. §4.4 Sifra

Mishnah

“Anyone who touches his bedding shall launder his garments, bathe in water, and remain pure until evening” (Lev. 15:5): He imparts impurity to garments, but he does not impart impurity to a person or to an earthenware vessel. On the basis of this, they stated . . . (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 2.10–11, Weiss 76b; TK 318–319)

Rabbi Yehoshua laid down a general rule: All that conveys impurity to garments while they have contact with them convey firstgrade impurity to food and liquids and second-degree impurity to the hands;1 but they do not convey impurity to a person or to an earthenware vessel. After they are severed from what had rendered them impure, they convey first-grade impurity to liquids and second-grade impurity to food and to the hands, but they do not impart impurity to garments. (m. Zavim 5.1)

1 The Sifra reads “and conveys impurity to other vessels in the same manner as to clothing”— absent in the Mishnah.

Here the Sifra introduces a mikan ʾamru ruling that the Mishnah characterizes as a “general rule” rather than a scriptural argument, and the next mishnah (Zavim 5.2) continues in the same vein: “They laid down another



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general rule: all that is carried above a man with a genital discharge becomes impure.” Table 11. §4.5 Sifra

Mishnah

“The purification offering bull and the purification offering goat . . . shall be taken outside the camp” (Lev. 16:27). Above, you recognized three camps, but here only one. If so, why does it state “shall be taken outside the camp”? Because as soon as the one burning left one camp, his garments are rendered impure. On the basis of this, they stated . . . (Aḥare parashah 5.5–6, Weiss 82d; TK 353)

They used to bear [the sacrificial offerings] on poles.1 If the foremost [bearers] had come out of the temple court but the hinder ones had not come out, the garments of the foremost are impure, but the garments of the hinder ones are not impure until they have come out. (m. Zevaḥim 12.6)

1 See the description of this procession in m. Yomaʾ 6.7.

According to the Sifra, the procedure for bearing the offerings out of the camp is learned from the putative tension between Leviticus 16:27 and Leviticus 4:12.29 According to the Mishnah, however, the claim is “historical,” based on the realia of Temple practices. As with the previous examples, the Mishnah appears unaware of the Sifra’s scriptural claim. Note also the awkward placement of mikan ʾamru, which introduces a description of biblical practices rather than a dictum, as the formula itself suggests. These Sifra passages offer a number of distinct analytic advantages. For one thing, they are avowedly later than the Mishnah, referring to and quoting mishnayot at length. As a result, there is no ambiguity as to the priority of one over the other—the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru passages acknowledge that they are later than the mishnayot. Moreover, some of the dicta in question are avowedly non-midrashic: Rabbi Zadok’s ruling regarding the brine of impure locusts appears as part of a catena of non-scriptural testimonies of this sage in m. ʿEduyot 7.1–4; and the “general rule” laid down by Rabbi Yehoshua in m. Zavim 5.2 is followed by a mishnah that begins “Furthermore, they laid down another rule.” In other words, the oral-traditional nature of these sayings coheres with the broader Mishnah context in which they are preserved. If so, there is a twofold difference between the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru derashot and their Mekhilta counterparts. First, except for negligibly few instances, the Sifra does not refer to Mishnah passages that claim scriptural basis, so while many Mekhilta derashot need only refer to the self-admitted status of these

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mishnayot, the Sifra founds this claim. Second, in several instances, the Sifra presses this claim in the face of mishnaic counter-claims that anchor the legal rulings in non-scriptural authority (a testimony, a general rule, and so on). In such cases, the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru citation omits the Mishnah’s non-scriptural claim, effectively camouflaging the Sifra’s own revisionist dynamic. Though few in number, these derashot are of principal importance to my argument insofar as they represent clear instances of the anonymous Sifra recasting halakhot so as to appear midrashic. Moreover, they accomplish this by means of a formula (familiar from the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim) that has been subtly altered: the trivially correct “footnote” function of mikan ʾamru (which, on grounds of terminological coherence, must be counted as original) is all but eliminated, as are the hermeneutically plausible associations of mishnaic dicta and midrashic arguments. These are replaced by claims, often forced and sometimes evidently false, of midrashic origin.

Correspondence Opacity Even without explicitly contradicting the Mishnah, many of the Sifra’s mikan ʾamru claims are hermeneutically opaque, though not always in the same way. In what follows, I propose a distinction between two types of mikan ʾamru opacity, based on the location of the incongruity. Derashot in which the mikan ʾamru dictum does not cogently follow from the midrash exhibit correspondence opacity; the claimed correspondence between the interpretive argument and the extra-scriptural assertion is obscure. Derashot whose incongruity lies in the transition from the verse to the midrash exhibit exegetical opacity, since the interpretation does not follow from its purported scriptural source.30 Here are a few examples of correspondence opacity:31 §4.6 verse: “[If your offering is a cereal offering on a griddle] . . . crumble it [ʾotah] into crumbles.” (Lev. 2:5–6) midrash: “Crumble”—might this be just two? Scripture teaches, saying “crumbles.” Alternatively, “crumbles”—might this mean that he should break it as though into crumbs? Scripture teaches, saying “it” [ʾotah]—crumble it into crumbles, do not crumble its crumbles into further crumbles. dictum: On the basis of this, they stated: “The cereal offering of an Israelite was folded into two and the two parts into four, and so



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sundered; and the cereal offering of the priests was folded into two and the two parts into four, and it was not32 sundered. The cereal offering of the anointed priest was not 33 folded.” Rabbi Shimon says: “Neither the cereal offering of the priests nor the cereal offering of the anointed priest was crumbled into pieces, since the scooped handful was not taken from them; and where the scooped handful is not taken, there is no crumbling into pieces.” (Nedavah pereq 12.3–4, Weiss 11a; TK 45 [dictum parallel at m. Menaḥot 6.4]) The Sifra’s midrash is unexceptional. The redundancy in “crumble it into crumbles” indicates that the cereal offering should be broken repeatedly, while the suffixed direct object particle, ʾotah, indicates that only the cereal offering is to be crumbled; the crumbs should not be further crumbled. The transition from this argument to the dictum, in contrast, is puzzling, since the derashah does not introduce the categories operative in the dictum— the Israelite, the priest, and the high priest—nor does it distinguish between the various ritual procedures incumbent upon each. As a result, the Sifra’s claim that this elaborate legal ruling was derived from Leviticus 2:5–6 is opaque. §4.7 verse: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not destroy the edge of your field in reaping, and the gleanings of your harvest you shall not gather.” (Lev. 19:9) midrash: “Your field”—to make one liable for each and every field. dictum: On the basis of this, they stated: “These serve as bounds with regard to the unharvested portion of the field [peʾah]: a riverbed or pond, a private or public road.” [. . .] (Qedoshim pereq 1.11– 2.1, Weiss 87c–d; TK 394–395 [dictum parallel at m. Peʾah 2.1–4]) The bracketed ellipsis marks a very long parallel between the Sifra and m. Peʾah 2.1–4, the full text of which is not critical to the present discussion. Here, too, the Sifra’s brief midrash is plausible enough—Leviticus emphasizes the addressees possession through the repetition “your land . . . your field . . . your harvest” (all pronominal suffixes in Hebrew) to communicate that one is liable for each of his fields. The midrash, however, does not correspond in any way to the elaborate discussion of the natural and man-made barriers, and of the various crops and trees that mark the end of one field and the beginning of the next.

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§4.8 verse: “it is a leprous spot,34 whether on its inner side [qaraḥto] or on its outer side [gabaḥto].” (Lev. 13:55) midrash: qaraḥto—this refers to frayed fabrics; gabaḥto—this ­refers to new fabrics. dictum: On the basis of this, they stated: “If a leprosy sign [negaʿ] appears in a thick cloak [sagos].” Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaakov says: “It remains clean unless it appears in the texture and the soft wool.” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 15.9, Weiss 69b; TK 285 [dictum parallel at m. Negaʿim 11.11]) The midrash offers succinct explanatory glosses for qaraḥat and gabaḥat (which usually mean “baldness of the crown” and “baldness of the forehead,” respectively) as types of fabric, which are then identified as the basis for m. Negaʿim 11.11, which refers to neither but rather introduces a thick coat known as sagos. §4.9 verse: “But if it is a white shiny mark on the skin of his body.” (Lev. 13:4) midrash: Might it be [yakhol] that any mark with the appearance of snow [le-khol marʾeh ha-sheleg] is impure but the other marks are pure? Scripture teaches, saying “it is a rash [bohaq] . . . it is pure.” (Lev. 13:39) dictum: On the basis of this, they said: “The colors of a scaly skin affection are two, which are indeed four: the shiny mark, which is bright white like snow—and the second shade of it is [as white] as the limestone used in the sanctuary and the discoloration [śeʾet], which is as the shell of an egg and the second shade is like white wool.” So Rabbi Meir. But the sages say: “The discoloration is as white wool and the second shade of it is as the shell of an egg.” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 2.3–4, Weiss 61a; TK 255 [dictum parallel at m. Negaʿim 1.1])35 The midrash recognizes that a skin mark need not be impure, while the dictum introduces color categories unknown to the verse and the midrash: “limestone used in the sanctuary” and “skin of an egg,” rendering the link between the midrash and the dictum unintelligible. In one sense, this is familiar terrain: though the midrash is plausible enough, the halakhot purportedly anchored in it exhibit the semantic discontinuity discussed in Chapter 2. Of course, there is a simple explanation for this



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phenomenon—one offered by Epstein and others: the mikan ʾamru statements are interpolations.36 They are, after all, not integral to the midrashic argument of the Sifra, which stands on its own without the tenuous and forced link to the extra-scriptural tradition. And in some cases, this is clearly the case, as mikan ʾamru has occasionally been interpolated into an otherwise coherent derashah. E. Z. Melammed has noted that a mikan ʾamru formula that introduces all of m. Shevuʿot 1.2–6 interrupts two statements that were originally part of a single argument.37 And Melammed’s is not the only example.38 Since unequivocal examples of interpolation exist in the Sifra, might a later editorial hand be responsible for all occurrences of mikan ʾamru? I have already noted that the vast majority of mikan ʾamru derashot in the Mekhilta do not cohere with this hypothesis. As for the Sifra, the interpolation hypothesis goes a long way toward explaining derashot that contain disruptive references to extra-scriptural dicta. However, the it is applicable only to correspondence opacity, not to exegetical opacity.

Exegetical Opacity Here is the Sifra’s interpretation of Lev. 6:20–21: §4.10 verse: “Whatever touches its flesh shall become holy; and if any of its blood is spattered upon a garment, the bespattered part shall be laundered in a holy place. An earthenware vessel in which it is boiled shall be broken.” (Lev. 6:20–21) midrash: “Laundered in a holy place”—this teaches that the laundering takes place in a holy place. How so? A garment that was taken outside the curtains is brought back in and laundered. Whence that the breaking of the earthenware vessel takes place in a holy place? Scripture teaches, saying “laundered in a holy place. An earthenware vessel . . . shall be broken.” dictum: On the basis of this, they stated: “If the garment was taken outside the curtains, it must be brought in again and laundered in a holy place. If it became impure outside the curtains, it must be rent and brought in again and laundered in a holy place. If any earthenware vessel was taken outside the curtains, it must be brought in again and broken in a holy place.” (Tzav pereq 6.7–8, Weiss 32c–d; TK 144 [dictum parallel at m. Zevaḥim 11.6–7])

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Unlike the derashot examined in the previous section, the midrash and the dictum are in full agreement: if the priest’s bespattered garment or the earthenware vessel in which it is boiled is taken out of the confines of the Temple court, they must be returned to the enclosure to be laundered or broken, respectively. Indeed, the language of the two parts is almost identical. But the derashah as a whole is still incongruous—it is just that the incongruity lies in the transition from the verse to the midrash: from Leviticus’s “the bespattered part shall be laundered in a holy place” to the Sifra’s claim that the verse teaches that “a garment that was taken outside the curtain is brought back” and that “the breaking of the earthenware vessel takes place in a holy place” as well. The Sifra’s discussion of the mold-infected house is also exegetically opaque: §4.11 verse: “The owner of the house shall come and tell the priest, saying: It appears to me there is something like an infection in my house.” (Lev. 14:35) midrash: “It appears to me”—not that it appears by my light. dictum: On the basis of this, they said, “They may not open up windows in a dark house to inspect it for signs of a fungus infection.” (Metzoraʿ Negaʿim parashah 5.11, Weiss 73a; TK 302 [dictum parallel at m. Negaʿim 2.3]) The derashah excludes the introduction of light into the mold examination, and then offers a mikan ʾamru dictum that prohibits opening windows.39 The shift from midrash to dictum is plausible, since the “not . . . by my light” is tantamount to a prohibition against opening windows. The hermeneutic opacity lies in the earlier midrashic argument: How does “it appears to me there is something like an infection in my house” come to exclude light? This interpretation is doubly problematic because the verses immediately following instruct that the fungus be identified by its color: “If . . . the infection in the walls of the house is found to consist of bright green or bright red eruptions . . . the priest shall . . . quarantine the house for seven days” (Lev. 14:37–38). The difference between mikan ʾamru derashot that exhibit correspondence opacity and those that exhibit exegetical opacity is significant. Whereas one can dismiss the former as overly zealous attempts to append mishnaic statements to otherwise coherent scriptural interpretations, the latter are not amenable to redactional explanations. Rather, the midrash appears to be informed by the dictum and forged from the outset in order to introduce it. Note the different results bracketing the mikan ʾamru dictum yields. Sans



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dictum, a correspondence-opacity derashah is simply a verse and its interpretation, perhaps reflecting the version that preceded the mikan ʾamru interpolation: §4.8: verse: “it is a leprous spot, whether on its inner side [qaraḥto] or on its outer side [gabaḥto].” (Lev. 13:55) midrash: qaraḥto—this refers to frayed fabrics; gabaḥto—this refers to new fabrics. But removing the dictum from an exegetically opaque derashah yields a semantically discontinuous gloss: §4.11 verse: “The owner of the house shall come and tell the priest, saying: It appears to me there is something like an infection in my house.” (Lev. 14:35) midrash: “‘It appears to me’—not that it appears by my light.” Remarkably, §4.11 gains coherence when we reintroduce the extra-scriptural mikan ʾamru dictum, which at least provides a context for the otherwise forced midrash: it is intended from the outset to pave the way for m. Negaʿim 2.3 (“They may not open up windows . . .”). In exegetical mikan ʾamru derashot, then, the midrash has been forced onto the verse in order to serve as a bridge to an extra-scriptural tradition.

Semantically Discontinuous Glosses as Uncited Mishnah Parallels Interpreting Exodus 20:15, the Decalogue commandment “You shall not steal,” the Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael recognizes two possibilities: The verse is a prohibition against stealing property, or against stealing a person (kidnapping). After some discussion, the Mekhilta resolves the matter: “There are three laws mentioned in this section; two of them are explicit and one not explicit. Let us learn about the non-explicit from the explicit ones. Just as the explicit ones are laws for the violation of which one incurs the penalty of death at the hands of the court, so also the non-explicit one must be a law for the violation of which the one incurs the penalty of death at the hands of the court.”40 I mention this derashah because it enunciates the principle “Let us learn about the non-explicit from the explicit ones,” which serves as a template for my argument at this

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point: that mikan ʾamru derashot are the explicit cases, the meforashot—claiming that Mishnah dicta have a midrashic basis (even when the dicta are characterized as “testimony,” “a general rule,” and the resulting derashah hopelessly obscure) and using established formulas to smooth over the claim. The non-­ explicit cases thereby elucidated are the hundreds of semantically discontinuous glosses that populate the Sifra. For example: §4.12 “This is the ritual for the woman who bears a child, male or female” (Lev. 12:7): . . . to include a woman who has a miscarriage that is shaped like a sandal, or an afterbirth, or a fully fashioned fetus. (Tazriʿa pereq 4.1, Weiss 59c; TK 249) The semantic discontinuity is at once vexing and, by this point, familiar: How does the Sifra derive such a detailed legal scenario from Leviticus 12:7? I do not have a hermeneutic answer, nor do I think one is needed. Instead, the derashah can be explained as an exegetically opaque mikan ʾamru argument intended to pave the way for an uncited extra-scriptural dictum preserved in the Mishnah: “These are they that bring an offering that is consumed: . . . A woman who has a miscarriage that is shaped like a sandal, or an afterbirth, or a fully fashioned fetus” (m. Keritot 1.3). The reader of the Sifra is faced with a fundamental choice. She may assert that the Sifra has derived the cases of “a woman who has a miscarriage that is shaped like a sandal, or an afterbirth, or a fully fashioned fetus” from Leviticus 12:7 (“This is the ritual for the woman who bears a child, male or female”). The advantage of this approach is that it takes the Sifra at its word and treats it as a work concerned first and foremost with the explication of Scripture. The disadvantage is that, after pledging allegiance to the midrashic status of the Sifra, the reader has no hermeneutically coherent explanation for this midrash and for hundreds like it throughout the Sifra, for the reasons set forth in the preceding chapters: inconsistent engagement of hermeneutic markers, midrashic vacuity, semantic discontinuity, and so forth. Alternately, she can interpret the derashah as constructed from the outset with an eye toward the extra-scriptural tradition preserved in m. Keritot. The disadvantage of this approach is that it does not take the Sifra at its word. Its chief advantage is that it renders the Sifra comprehensible—the gloss may be discontinuous with the biblical text, but it is a reasonable attempt to “scripturalize” an oral-traditional dictum:



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§4.13 Whence do we learn that rice, millet, poppy seed, and sesame that have taken root before a new year are tithed after the manner of the past year and are permitted in the seventh year? Scripture teaches, saying “[six years you may sow your field, and six years you may prune your vineyard and] gather in its produce” (Lev. 25:3)—on the seventh year. (Behar parashah 1.7, Weiss 105c; MS New York 135b) The derashah’s prooftext is part of the laws of the sabbatical year: “Six years you may sow your field, and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in its produce. But in the seventh year, there shall be a sabbath of complete rest for the land, a sabbath to the Lord; you may neither sow your field nor prune your vineyard” (Lev. 25:3–4). Here and throughout, Leviticus refers to the same agricultural sites (the field and the vineyard) and to the same produce (the harvest and the grapes) but does not address the status of plants that sprouted before the beginning of the year and whether they may be eaten during the seventh year. Leviticus also never mentions rice, millet, poppy seed, and sesame (none of these are biblical grains), so the discontinuity between the verse and the gloss is glaring. The discontinuity is less jarring if we assume that the Sifra’s true but uncited intertext is the Mishnah: “Rice, millet, poppy seed, and sesame that have taken root before a new year are tithed after the manner of the past year, and they are permitted in the seventh year” (m. Sheviʿit 2.7).41 Similarly: §4.14 “[And anything on which one of them falls when they are dead shall be impure: be it] of any article of wood” (Lev. 11:32): Might it be a chest, a box, a cupboard, a straw basket, a reed basket, or the tank of an Alexandrian ship that has a flat bottom and holds forty seʾah of liquid, which is equivalent to two kor of dry wares? Scripture teaches, saying “of any article of wood”—but not all articles of wood. Or, might I exclude the tub of a wagon, the food chest of kings, a tanner’s trough, the tank of a small ship, or an ark? Scripture teaches, saying “any article of wood”—to include. (Shemini parashah 6.5, Weiss 52d; TK 220) The most charitable explanation of this derashah is that it knowingly mirrors the lists of susceptible and non-susceptible wares enumerated in m. Kelim 15:1: “A chest, a box, a cupboard, a straw basket, a reed basket, or the tank of an Alexandrian ship that has a flat bottom and holds forty seʾah of liquid,

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which is equivalent to two kor of dry wares, is not susceptible to impurity . . . so Rabbi Meir. Rabbi Judah says: ‘The tub of a wagon, the food chest of kings, a tanner’s trough, the tank of a small ship, and an ark, even if they hold [forty seʾah,] are susceptible to impurity.’” Here are additional examples, cited in brief: The Sifra glosses Lev. 13:26 (“But if the priest . . . finds that there is no white hair in [it]”) as—“nor in the streak extending from it,” the introduction of the streak (ḥuṭ) is, on this hypothesis, not grounded in the language of the verse but in the Mishnah: “If from a shiny mark . . . there extended a streak [ḥuṭ] two hairs in breadth” (m. Negaʿim 4.5);42 the Sifra’s gloss of Lev. 22:13 (“If a priest’s daughter is widowed or divorced and without children, and returns to her father’s house”) as teaching that “if a daughter of an Israelite was married to a priest, or a priest’s daughter to an Israelite, and she bore a son by him, and the son went and had intercourse with a maidservant or a Gentile woman, who consequently bore him a son” introduces m. Yebamot 7.5;43 the Sifra claims that the plural form of “impure” in Lev. 11:31 (“Those are for you the impure among the swarming creatures”) includes “the egg of the swarming creature and the marrowbone [qulit] of the swarming creature” but excludes unformed or perforated eggs, incorporating elements of m. Ḥullin 9.5 and 9.6.44 It is perhaps not surprising that, faced with the Sifra’s discontinuous claim that “a black hair has grown” (Lev. 13:37) teaches that the scall is healed “even if [the hair] is not clustered together,” Rabbi Vidal Serfaty states: “It appears that this is not actually learned from a scriptural exclusion; rather, these are rulings [dinim] that were already handed down.”45

Resolution of Other Phenomena The hypothesis that the Sifra recasts extra-scriptural traditions in midrashic form resolves several difficulties outlined in the previous chapters. For example, the “laundry list” derashah, where a single marker anchors a long list of rulings.46 Table 12 presents one such derashah, cited in Chapter 2, juxtaposed with its Mishnah parallels. This chart offers the same stark choice as we saw above: either there exists a hermeneutic principle by which the Sifra has derived a dozen different conclusions from the phrase “shall not be acceptable,” or it is recasting of extrascriptural halakhot in midrashic form. The latter choice is, I think, the more compelling. Another crux resolved by this approach is the Sifra’s willingness to present inclusions and exclusions in immediate succession, as in §2.30:



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Table 12. §2.22 Sifra

Mishnah

“If any of the flesh of his sacrifice of well-being is eaten on the third day, it shall not be acceptable” (Lev. 7:18): It

These, if they go up, may not come down again: . . . that had been slaughtered outside its proper time or outside could be that “it shall not be acceptable” its proper place, or (vi) whose blood refers only to a sacrifice made outside its was collected and tossed by unfit proper time and place, whence do we priests . . . (i) sacrifices made at night, know that it applies (i) to sacrifices made or (ii) whose blood was spilled, or (iii) at night, and (ii) to those whose blood whose blood trickled beyond the partiwas spilled, or (iii) whose blood trickled tion of the Tabernacle. (m. Zevaḥim beyond the partition of the Tabernacle, 9.2) or (iv) whose blood was not ritually tossed, or (v) whose flesh protruded, or (vi) whose blood was collected and All animal offerings become invalid tossed by unfit priests, or (vii) in the if . . . (viii) their blood is to be smeared cases of sacrifices whose blood is to be on the lower part of the altar but it was smeared on the lower part of the altar smeared on the upper part, or (vii) but it was smeared on the upper part, or their blood is to be smeared on the (viii) whose blood is to be smeared on upper part of the altar but it was the upper part of the altar but it was smeared on the lower part, or (ix) those smeared on the lower part, or (ix) those from within the sanctuary offered outfrom within the sanctuary offered outside the sanctuary, or (x) those outside side the sanctuary, or (x) those outside the sanctuary offered within the sancthe sanctuary offered within the sanctu- tuary. (m. Zevaḥim 2.1) ary, and (xi) the paschal offering and (xii) the purification offering made without proper intention, Scripture teaches, If a paschal offering (xi) or a purificasaying “it shall not be acceptable; it shall tion offering (xii) was made without not count from him who offered it” for proper intention . . . it becomes inthe eater. (Tzav pereq 13.3, Weiss 36d; valid. (m. Zevaḥim 1.4) TK 162–163)

§2.30 “The priest shall . . . turn it into smoke on the altar, upon the wood that is on the fire. It is a burnt offering [ʿolah hiʾ]” (Lev. 1:17): “A burnt offering”—even if he drained the blood of the body but not of the head. Or perhaps even if he drained the blood of the head but not of the body? Scripture teaches, saying “It is [hiʾ].” (Nedavah pereq 9.7, Weiss 9b; TK 36) As I noted in Chapter 2, it is extremely difficult to reconstruct a cogent hermeneutic principle that allows the same lexeme to function as a ribbui and

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immediately turn around and serve as a basis for a miʿuṭ. How can the pronoun’s excluding tendency be recessive when ʿolah hiʾ expands the scope of the verse, but become dominant when hiʾ disqualifies sacrifices that omit draining the blood of the bird’s body? But the difficulty is resolved if we recognize that the Sifra’s true intertext is not Leviticus but rather the Mishnah: “If he drained the blood of the head but not that of the body, it becomes invalid. But if he drained the blood of the body but not that of the head, it remains valid” (m. Zevaḥim 6.6). Let me state in no uncertain terms that I am not arguing that every Mishnah parallel results in exegetic opacity. As I discussed in an earlier study,47 Sifra Ḥovah contains a series of derashot to Lev. 5:1 (“If a person incurs guilt, when he has heard a public imprecation and, although able to testify as one who has either seen or learned of the matter, he does not give information, he is subject to punishment”), all of which have Mishnah parallels. One of the Sifra derashot is exegetically opaque, likely because it has the Mishnah as its intertext.48 Not so the derashah preceding it: §4.15 He said to two others: “I adjure you, so-and-so, if you are witnesses concerning a matter that you come and testify,” and they know of the matter either by word of mouth, or if one of them was his relative or otherwise unfit for testimony [and they refuse to testify], are they guilty? Scripture teaches, saying: “Although able to testify as one who has either seen or learned of the matter, he does not give information”—when they are permitted to bear witness, not when they are disqualified from testimony. (Ḥovah parashah 8.5, Weiss 22c; TK 99) This is an elegant derashah. The verse is only in effect when the person is “able to testify,” from which the Sifra learns that the person must be qualified to bear witness in a judicial setting, thereby excluding family relations of the accused or individuals disqualified for other reasons. There is an uncited parallel to this derashah as well: “If he had said to two others: ‘I adjure you, so-and-so, that if you know testimony concerning me that you come and testify on my behalf,’ and they swear that they do not know such a testimony but they do by word of mouth or one of them was a relative or otherwise disqualified from testimony, they are exempt” (m. Shevuʿot 4.11). But the derashah stands on its own merit, and the existence of a Mishnah parallel to this well-formed derashah ought dissuade us from lax generalizations about the priority of midrash to extrascriptural halakhot or vice versa.



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Reworked Tannaitic Traditions The last passage offers an important cautionary lesson, but it is not a typical derashah. Returning to the far more common phenomenon of derashot that rework extra-scriptural halakhot to present them as scriptural, let us note that such transformations, though redactionally part of the anonymous Sifra, employ named Mishnah traditions: §4.16 “When you enter the land and plant any kind of fruit tree [kol ʿetz] . . . three years it shall be forbidden for you; it shall not be eaten” (Lev. 19:23): “For you”—to introduce [a tree] that is planted for public use. Rabbi Judah says “for you”—excepting [peraṭ] [a tree] that is planted for public use. (Qedoshim parashah 3.4, Weiss 90a; TK 404) Here an anonymous interpretation is contravened by a named tanna: theanonymous Sifra, claims that “for you” expands the scope of the verse,49 introducing the planting of a tree for public use, while Rabbi Judah interprets the same phrase as an exclusion gloss, “excepting [a tree] that is planted for public use.” How can the same marker generate opposite procedures yielding diametrically opposed conclusions? It cannot and it need not, since the derashah is, in fact, a midrashic recasting of a Mishnah dictum: “If a man planted a tree for public use, it is liable. Rabbi Judah declares it exempt” (m. ʿOrlah 1.2).50 Or consider this purportedly midrashic debate: §4.17 “When a field is released in the jubilee [it shall be holy to the Lord . . . it belongs to the priest]” (Lev. 27:21): “It teaches that the priests enter into [possession of] it and pay its price”—the words of Rabbi Judah; Rabbi Shimon says: “They enter into it, but they do not pay.” Rabbi Eleazar says: “They neither enter into it, nor do they pay. Rather, it is called ‘a forsaken field’ up to the time of the second jubilee; if the second jubilee arrives and it has not been redeemed, it is called ‘altogether forsaken’ up to the time of the third jubilee. Priests never enter into [possession of] it until another redeems it.” (Beḥuqotai pereq 11.2, Weiss 114b; MS New York 147a) Here again, it is difficult and perhaps impossible to couch this dispute in coherent midrashic terms. That is, to provide a hermeneutic principle that

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allows one rabbi to learn that the priests pay the price of the field, another that they do not, and a third that they neither enter nor pay—all from the same verse. But this is beside the point, since, aside from the words “it teaches that,” Rabbi Judah, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Eleazar do not so much as mention Leviticus 27:21. They appear unaware that they are engaged in interpretation, likely because they are not: the same rulings are apodictic teachings by the same three sages in the Mishnah: If the year of the jubilee arrived and it was not yet redeemed, then the priests enter into possession of it and they pay its price—the words of Rabbi Judah. Rabbi Shimon says: “They enter into possession but they do not pay [its price].” Rabbi Eleazar says: “They neither enter into possession nor pay [its price], but it is called ‘a forsaken field’ until the second year of the jubilee; if the second year of the jubilee arrived and it was not redeemed, it is called ‘altogether forsaken’ up to the time of the third jubilee. Priests never enter into [possession of] it until another redeems it.” (m. ʿArakhin 7.4)

Note how the Sifra has juxtaposed the verse and the phrase “the words of Rabbi Judah,” making it appear that the tanna is interpreting Leviticus 27:21, when we see from the Mishnah that Rabbi Judah’s claim is not scriptural at all. The Sifra has lifted the dispute from m. ʿArakhin and used melammed (“it teaches”) to lash it to Scripture.51 A more subtle redactional camouflage, represented in Table 13, is employed in the Sifra’s reworking of a Mishnah dispute between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael involving Leviticus 5:4: “Or when a person utters by his lips an oath for harm or benefit—every matter [le-khol ʾasher] anyone may utter in an oath.”52 The exchange in the Mishnah is clear. Rabbi Ishmael interprets the biblical phrase “for harm or benefit” to mean that the verse refers to oaths taken regarding matters whose outcome has not yet been determined—they might be good or bad. Such uncertainty holds only for future events, so he concludes that the verse speaks of oaths concerning the future (for example, “I swear that I will/will not . . .”). Rabbi Akiva counters that this reading is impossibly narrow, for by positing “for harm or benefit” as the criterion, Rabbi Ishmael is excluding many oaths that are not aimed at either (Rabbi Akiva does not provide an example; but presumably, abstention from wine is typical). Rabbi Ishmael then claims that such cases are derived “from the ribbui



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Table 13. §4.18 Sifra

Mishnah

(Si) “For harm or benefit”—I know only regarding matters that involve benefit or harm, whence regarding matters that do not involve benefit or harm? Scripture teaches, saying “utter.”

(Mi) [Regarding oaths] Rabbi Ishmael says: “He is only liable for oaths regarding a future event, as it is said “for harm or benefit.” (Lev. 5:4)

(Sii) I know only regarding future events, whence regarding past events? Scripture teaches, saying “every matter [le-khol] anyone may utter,” the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Siii) Rabbi Ishmael says: “Matters that involve benefit or harm regarding future events.” (Siv) Rabbi Akiva said to him: “If so, I know only regarding matters that involve benefit or harm, whence regarding matters that do not involve benefit or harm?”

(Mii) Rabbi Akiva said to him: “If so, I know only regarding matters that involve benefit or harm, whence regarding matters that do not involve benefit or harm?”

(Sv) He said, “From the ribbui of Scrip- (Miii) He said, “From the ribbui1 of Scripture [ha-katuv].” ture [ha-katuv].” (Svi) [Rabbi Akiva] said to him: “If the ribbui of Scripture [ha-katuv] yields the one, the ribbui of Scripture [ha-katuv] yields the other.” (Ḥovah parashah 9.8, Weiss 23c; TK 104–105)

(Miv) [Rabbi Akiva] said to him: “If the ribbui of Scripture [ha-katuv] yields the one, the ribbui of Scripture [ha-katuv] yields the other.” (m. Shevuʿot 3.5)

1 Ribbui ha-katuv follows all the Palestinian textual witnesses for both the Sifra and m. Shevuʿot 3.5. Babylonian sources read ribbah ha-katuv; see the discussion in Naeh, Tannaitic Hebrew, 364.

of Scripture,” and though again the statement is unglossed, the ribbui in question likely refers to the word kol, which occurs in the verse, as part of the phrase “every matter” (le-khol ʾasher).53 To this, Rabbi Akiva triumphantly responds that the ribbui could also be taken to include oaths concerning past events (for example, “I swear that I did/did not . . .”)—“If the ribbui of Scripture yields the one, the ribbui of Scripture yields the other.” The Sifra is much more problematic. Clause (Si) poses Rabbi Akiva’s question in clause (Siv) (“I know only regarding matters that involve benefit or harm, whence regarding matters that do not involve benefit or harm?”),

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though the latter is a response to Rabbi Ishmael’s ribbui (Siii), while (Si) opens the derashah. Clause (Sii) is another “I know only regarding” argument, this one attributed to Rabbi Akiva, seeking to include past events. Note that Rabbi Ishmael’s statement in clause (Siii) does not respond to (Sii) but rather suggests that the oaths refer to “matters that involve benefit or harm regarding future events.” Now, in the Mishnah, the biblical benefit or harm was the basis for Rabbi Ishmael’s conclusion that the verse refers to future events, but the Sifra casts these as self-standing conclusions of ribbui arguments. As noted, clause (Siv) repeats the question posed in (Si).54 Clauses (Siv), (Sv), and (Svi) are identical with their Mishnah counterparts (Mii, Miii, and Miv, respectively). The Sifra sequence involves two principle difficulties. First, Rabbi Akiva (Siv) asks Rabbi Ishmael how to establish that the oaths in Leviticus 5:4 apply to matters that do not involve benefit or harm—unaware that the same question has “already” (from the perspective of the reader) been posed and answered in clause (Si). Second, Rabbi Ishmael’s initial statement (Siii) is dissociated from the arguments that precede it: clause (Si) introduces matters that do not involve benefit or harm; and (Sii) introduces past events, yet Rabbi Ishmael obliviously asserts that the verse is limited to matters that do involve benefit or harm and that occur only in the future. Assuming the Mishnah’s priority, the above comparison leads to the deeply problematic conclusion that the Sifra has reworked a clear Mishnah passage into a very problematic, almost incoherent, derashah. Such a move appears, prima facie, to fly in the face of established philological principles and would, under normal circumstances, be rejected; the Sifra is the lectio difficilior and should therefore be considered prior. In fact, such a conclusion is unwarranted, since it is possible to identify a motive for the Sifra’s reworking of the Mishnah. As noted, in the Mishnah (Mi) and Sifra (Sv), Rabbi Ishmael states that matters that do not involve benefit or harm are learned “from the ribbui of Scripture,” without specifying the argument that he has in mind. Absent other candidates, the reader of the Mishnah will assume (as I did above) that Rabbi Ishmael is referring to the word kol (“all” or “every”) in Leviticus 5:4, the standard trigger for inclusion glosses. But the Sifra is edited so as to suggest an alternative understanding. Namely, that Rabbi Ishmael is the author of the ribbui in clause (Si). After all, the second stich of (Si) poses the same question (“Whence regarding matters that do not involve benefit or harm?”) as Rabbi Akiva does in clause (Siv). Since (Siv) responds directly to Rabbi Ishmael, the reader is led to assume that “Whence regarding matters” in (Si) responds to the same tanna. In this



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manner, the Sifra guides the reader toward identifying clause (Si) as the argument to which Rabbi Ishmael refers when he says that matters that do not involve benefit or harm are learned “from the ribbui of Scripture.” But clause (Si) bases its inclusion on the word “utter,” an unproblematic and semantically integral part of the verse, and one that has no semantic connection to benefit or harm. The argument of (Si), in other words, is not motivated by hermeneutic markedness and offers a semantically discontinuous conclusion, exhibiting some of the most problematic traits of the anonymous Sifra’s inclusion derashot. Thanks to the Sifra’s sophisticated editing, ribbui of this type appears to be part of the hermeneutic repertoire of Rabbi Ishmael—even though nothing in m. Shevuʿot 3.5 corroborates this claim. I suspect that m. Shevuʿot 3.5 offered the later editors of the Sifra a rare opportunity in that Rabbi Ishmael refers to a ribbui without identifying the argument in detail. The resulting lacuna allowed the Sifra to insinuate clause (Si) into the tannaitic debate, thereby creating the impression that Rabbi Ishmael (and the tannaim, more broadly) employed this type of ribbui.55 One final proposal: Essentially nothing is known about the formation of the so-called Baraita of Thirteen Middot, including when and how it came to be appended to the Sifra. It is clear that the hermeneutic rules enumerated therein differ significantly from the middot in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim,56 but it does offer a clear and systematic statement of midrashic legal interpretation. Though I cannot presently prove this, I suspect the Baraita has been juxtaposed to the Sifra in order to further the impression that the Sifra is— like the Baraita—a rule-governed engagement of Scripture.

Circumventing Scripture I noted above that the chief difficulty with the thesis that the anonymous Sifra camouflages extra-scriptural halakhot to appear scripturally derived is that it baldly contradicts the Sifra’s self-presentation. That is, the thesis asks that we discount the Sifra’s verse-by-verse analysis of Leviticus, its regular employment of midrashic terminology, and its countless biblical prooftexts, and accept that the Sifra’s relevant intertext is often not the Bible but the Mishnah. I have offered a series of arguments that, to my mind, allay this concern, and demonstrate that this approach is, ultimately, the more charitable reading of the Sifra. I would now add that in a number of derashot, the Sifra clearly circumvents Scripture. We have already encountered one such derashah:

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§1.15 “And if anyone [ʾish ʾish; lit., ‘person person’] of the house of Israel or of the alien who resides among them ingests any blood [kol dam] . . .” (Lev. 17:10): “Israel”—this is Israel. “Alien”—these are the aliens. “Who resides” to include [lerabbot] the wives of the aliens. “Among them” to include women and slaves. If so, why is “person person” stated? Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon says: “To introduce [lehaviʾ] the offspring of an Israelite women from a Gentile or from a slave.” (Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2, Weiss 84c; TK 363) Setting aside the interpretive issues that the passage raises, I want to call attention to the Sifra’s strange compulsion to midrashically extend the prohibition against ingesting blood, when in Genesis 9:4 God commands: “Only, you shall not eat flesh with its life; that is, its blood.” This prohibition is addressed to Noah and his sons and has been incorporated into the Noahide laws aimed at all mankind, so its scope could not be wider. Why, then, does the Sifra link various subcategories to the Leviticus prohibition when the scope of the prohibition is so broad in Leviticus 17:10—and in Genesis 9:4, it is universal?57 Another circumvention of Scripture occurs in the “laundry list” derashah that is cited, alongside its Mishnah parallel, in Table 14. Table 14. §2.21 Sifra

Mishnah

“Every man among the offspring of Aaron the priest who has a blemish shall not be qualified to offer the Lord gifts; having a blemish, he shall not be qualified to offer the food of his God” (Lev. 21:21): Whence regarding the black-skinned [lit., Kushite] and the blotchy [giḥer] and the albino, and the hunchback and the midget, and the deaf-mute, and the fool and the drunken person, and those with pure blemishes? Scripture teaches, saying “blemish, blemish”—an inclusive marker. (ʾEmor pereq 3.1–2, Weiss 95c; TK 423)

If he is black-skinned [lit., a Kushite], or blotchy [giḥer], or an albino, or a hunchback, or a midget, or a deafmute, or a fool, or drunken, or with pure blemishes . . . such are disqualified. (m. Bekhorot 7.6)

The Mishnah lists the conditions that disqualify priests, a list that rightly includes drunkenness. But the Sifra, which purports to be scriptural, derives the disqualification of drunk priests from an inclusion gloss of Leviticus 21:21,



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even though alcoholic consumption is explicitly forbidden to the priesthood in Leviticus 10:9: “Drink no wine or strong drink, neither you nor your sons, when you enter the Tent of Meeting, that you may not die; it is a statute forever throughout your generations.” Should the Sifra not cite Leviticus 10:9 as the source of the prohibition against alcohol? Presumably so—if the derashah were engaged in the explication of Scripture. That the derashah does not cite Leviticus 10:9 suggests that the Sifra is, in fact, importing the list of disqualified priests from Mishnah Bekhorot, camouflaging it to appear scriptural, even as it circumvents Scripture. Here is the Sifra’s interpretation of Leviticus 4:2, also cited in Chapter 2: §2.27 “When a person [nefesh] inadvertently [bi-shegagah] does wrong in regard to any of the Lord’s prohibitive commandments by violating any one of them . . .” (Lev. 4:2): I know only regarding the Israelites, whence do I include the aliens and the slaves? Scripture teaches, saying “when a person [nefesh] . . .” (Ḥovah parashah 1.1, Weiss 15b; TK 66) According to the Sifra, we learn that aliens fall under the law of inadvertent transgression from a ribbui of Leviticus 4:2. But Numbers 15:29 states: “For both the native among the Israelites and the alien residing among them—you shall have the same law for anyone who acts inadvertently [bi-shegagah].” It is hard to imagine a more awkward midrashic procedure: nefesh, though usually a marker of exclusion (“nefesh shall be cut off . . . but not the community”), here gives rise to an inclusion gloss that “introduces” a scenario covered explicitly in another verse. Why not simply cite Numbers 15:29?58 One final example: §2.6 “Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall dash the blood against all sides of the altar” (Lev. 3:2): Might this refer to non-priests? Scripture teaches, saying “the priests,” precluding laypersons. Shall I exclude laypersons but not the blemished? Scripture teaches, saying “Aaron’s sons”—just as Aaron is ritually fit, so, too, his sons are ritually fit, thus excluding laypersons and the blemished. (Nedavah parashah 4.6, Weiss 6b–c; TK 21) The Sifra excludes blemished priests from the Temple cult on the basis of a convoluted series of exclusions and inclusions, when Leviticus 21:21 states: “Every man among the offspring of Aaron the priest who has a blemish shall not be

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qualified to offer the Lord’s gifts; having a blemish, he shall not be qualified to offer the food of his God.” Here again, the Sifra offers a (dubious) derashah to prove a legal position stated explicitly elsewhere. Why not cite Leviticus 21:21 directly? The answer is at once plainly evident and deeply problematic: though midrashic in its structure and rhetoric, the Sifra is, au fond, not concerned with explicating Scripture but rather with recasting halakhot to appear scriptural.59

Conclusion The thesis of this chapter is that the core difficulties that arise from the interpretation of the Sifra are resolved once we recognize that the work engages in a hermeneutic of camouflage, producing a veneer of midrashic rhetoric over arguments that are not originally anchored in Scripture. If so, the problem addressed in Chapter 1—that the Sifra adopts a robust rhetoric of hermeneutic markedness (interpreting ʾotah, huʾ, ʾet, verse-initial vav, and so on) but engages the markers in an inconsistent and sometimes incoherent manner—represents a fundamental misunderstanding. There is no reason to expect consistency from the Sifra on this front, since the midrashim are ex post facto constructions, reworking existing apodictic arguments. Midrashic vacuity stems from the Sifra’s commitment to interpreting every verse in Leviticus, even at the price of tautological, solipsistic, or otherwise empty arguments.60 And semantic discontinuity is the inevitable by-product of the systematic violence exerted on oral-traditional legal rulings as they are repackaged as midrash. All this is done by means of established tannaitic terms, whose meaning has been subtly but dramatically adapted to the Sifra’s task: ribbui, miʿut, din, mikan ʾamru, and more.61 At this point, it is necessary to address two broader issues. I have argued that the Sifra is redactionally and hermeneutically divided into its tannaitic and its anonymous or stammaitic components and that, at least as far as terminology is concerned, the named Sifra derashot are closely aligned with the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim. Does this mean that the Akivan-Ishmaelian divide is inoperative? My answer to this question will be negative, but the nature and significance of this divide can be demonstrated only after a close examination of the named Sifra derashot. This analysis will lead us to the second issue, the apparent paradox that lies at the heart of my thesis: that the Sifra is not a fundamentally interpretive text, yet it is the midrash most closely associated with Rabbi Akiva, universally considered the greatest of all rabbinic interpreters.

Pa rt I I

The Curious Career of Rabbi Akiva

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Chapter 5

Rabbi Akiva the Interpreter: From the Mishnah to the Talmud

In his learned, sprawling study of rabbinic exegesis and its theological underpinnings, Abraham Joshua Heschel paints a dramatic portrait of Rabbi Akiva as the paramount Jewish interpreter: “When Rabbi Akiva found difficult or strange language in the Torah, his ears would widen, for in his view strangeness in the text was a gateway to the discovery of the Torah’s secrets. . . . Rabbi Akiva, who extracted from every jot and tittle in the text piles and piles of halakhot, believed it impossible that there be in the Torah a single superfluous word or letter. Each word, each letter issues the invitation: ‘Interpret me!’”1 Heschel’s view of Rabbi Akiva is attested in countless descriptions of this tanna, both traditional and modern (Heschel was both). My claim in this chapter and in the next is that the image of Rabbi Akiva reflected in the tannaitic sources differs from that found in later strata of rabbinic literature. Briefly stated, the earlier material portrays Rabbi Akiva as deeply committed to extra-scriptural traditions and regularly adducing midrashic arguments intended to buttress these traditions. And though Rabbi Akiva’s contemporaries criticize him on several occasions for derashot that do not sufficiently hew to the line of acceptable midrash, his hermeneutics are, on the whole, less speculative and more congruent with those of his contemporaries than is often supposed. In short, the familiar image of Rabbi Akiva as an inspired midrashist who derives meaning from every word and letter of the Torah owes more to later rabbinic sources.

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Rabbi Akiva in the Mishnah: Recipient and Defender of Tradition In keeping with its generally apodictic approach, the Mishnah presents Rabbi Akiva first and foremost as a tradent of legal teachings not anchored in Scripture.2 Rabbi Akiva’s practical commitment to halakhot is most clearly thematized in m. Keritot 3.7–10,3 a series of mishnayot in which Rabbi Akiva poses questions to his teachers (Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua in mishnayot 7–9; Rabbi Eliezer in mishnah 10) regarding a range of transgressions committed during a spell of forgetfulness, and the purity status of a limb of a dead animal. In each case, they say loʾ shamaʿnu, “we have not heard,” or, in Danby’s precise translation, “we have heard no tradition about this.”4 When such traditions are known, Rabbi Akiva transmits them on the authority of his master, as when he cites a teaching concerning cucumbergathering sorcerers “in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua” (m. Sanhedrin 7.11). In a number of passages, Rabbi Akiva is characterized as the originator of an oral tradition: “These are the kinsmen [disqualified to serve as witnesses or judges]: a suitor’s father, brother, father’s brother, mother’s brother [and so on]. Rabbi Yose said: Such was the mishnah of Rabbi Akiva [zo mishnat rabbi ʿakiva], but according to the first mishnah, also a suitor’s uncle, first cousin, and all that are qualified to be his heirs” (m. Sanhedrin 3.4).5 Throughout the Mishnah, Rabbi Akiva is represented as a willing recipient of extra-scriptural legal traditions: “On a day that Hallel is recited, there is no morning maʿamad [roster of Israelites present for Temple service]; when there is an additional offering, there is no maʿamad at the concluding service; when there is a wood offering, there is no maʿamad at the afternoon service. These are the words of Rabbi Akiva” (m. Taʿanit 4.4). However, the same mishnah then cites Ben Azzai’s statement that Rabbi Yehoshua had different traditions regarding these days: “Rabbi Yehoshua taught thus: When an additional offering would be brought, no maʿamad assembled in the afternoon.” Rabbi Akiva does not challenge either the attribution or the tradition itself but immediately changes his teaching to reflect that of his colleague: “Rabbi Akiva retracted and taught according to Ben Azzai” (m. Taʿanit 4.4).6 The opposite dynamic is also recorded, that is, Rabbi Akiva rejecting a legal position because he does not esteem its tradent: Rabbi Shimon said: “Ben Kinai found me in Sidon and said, when you come to Rabbi Akiva ask him: ‘Until what point can a girl refuse



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marriage?’ If he says, ‘Until she grows two hairs,’ say to him, ‘In the presence of all of you, Ben Shalkut testified in Yavne, until she has a full pubic growth [tekhalkel].’ When I came and presented these matters before Rabbi Akiva, he said, ‘I am not familiar with the criterion of full pubic growth [khilkul], and I do not know Ben Shalkut. Rather, it is until she grows two hairs.’” (t. Niddah 6.6, Zuckermandel, 647) In addition to being a tradent of halakhot, and perhaps the originator of a full collection of halakhot, Rabbi Akiva is also portrayed as their defender. Here, for example, Rabbi Tarfon hears a tradition that he is sure has been transmitted erroneously: Any movable object conveys impurity if it is as thick as an ox-goad. Rabbi Tarfon said: “May I lose my sons7 if this is not a perverted halakhah that the hearer heard wrongly: when a husbandman passed by [a tomb] with the ox-goad over his shoulder and the one end of it overshadowed the tomb, they declare him impure by virtue of the law of the vessels that overshadow a corpse.” Rabbi Akiva said: “I will amend [this halakhah] so that the words of the sages shall be sustained. Any movable object conveys uncleanness to him that carries the object if it is as thick as an ox-goad; and the object conveys the uncleanness to itself whatsoever its thickness, but to other men and vessels only if it is one handbreadth wide.” (m. ʾOhalot 16.1)

Our mishnah begins with an anonymous statement regarding the size required of a movable object in order that it convey impurity. Rabbi Tarfon disputes the legitimacy of this tradition, arguing that it was perverted in the course of transmission. The correct halakhah, according to Rabbi Tarfon, does indeed refer to the ox-goad, but only in assessing its breadth, insofar as a herdsman who carries one over his shoulder creates a canopy of sorts, an ʾohel, and is thus susceptible to the impurity of a tomb by which he passes. There are, then, two competing oral traditions that refer to the ox-goad, traditions Rabbi Tarfon holds to be mutually exclusive: his is correct, and the opening statement a corruption (“the hearer heard wrong”). This denigration of the initial tradition does not sit well with Rabbi Akiva, who seeks to “amend [this halakhah] so that the words of the sages shall be sustained,” which he does by proposing a third legal statement that incorporates elements of both the initial tradent’s and Rabbi Tarfon’s dicta. Significantly, Rabbi Akiva’s statement is not itself a received tradition but rather

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the product of his interpretive ingenuity, which allows him to reconcile and thus “amend” halakhot. A similar approach is apparent in both m. Pesaḥim 9.6 and m. Yebamot 8 8.4. In the former, Rabbi Yehoshua cites conflicting oral traditions regarding a substitute for the paschal offering, and Rabbi Akiva offers to resolve the contradiction: “I will explain it: if a paschal offering was found before the slaughtering of a substitute offering, it must be left to pasture . . . but if it was found after the slaughtering of the substitute offering . . . it can be offered as a well-being offering.” In the latter, Rabbi Yehoshua cites conflicting halakhot as to whether a eunuch submits to ḥalitzah, the ceremony that releases the family member of a deceased man from the obligation of levirate marriage. Rabbi Akiva states: “I will explain it,” and proceeds to distinguish congenital from man-made eunuchs—the former do not submit to ḥalitzah, since they were never sexually productive and could not have fulfilled the levirate obligation in any case, but the latter do. Rabbi Eliezer challenges Rabbi Akiva’s logic, but “Rabbi Yehoshua ben Batira testified of Ben Megusat, who lived in Jerusalem and was a manmade eunuch, that they contracted levirate marriage with his wife—sustaining the words of Rabbi Akiva.” Rabbi Akiva’s interpretations did not always carry the day. Mishnah tractate Nazir enumerates the types of ritual impurity that do and do not count as corpse impurity and, if contracted by a Nazirite, require that he cut his hair and begin his Nazirite period anew (m. Nazir 7.2–3). Rabbi Akiva’s concern stems from the fact that the first list, with more severe transgressions, includes impurity contracted by touching or carrying a barleycorn’s bulk of bone (which does not impart impurity by overshadowing), while carrying a quarter log of blood (which does impart impurity by overshadowing) is counted among the less severe transgressions. To rectify this incongruity, Rabbi Akiva offers a qol va-ḥomer (“inference from the lesser to the greater”) argument: if an amount equal to a barleycorn of bone entails that the Nazirite cut his hair, should not the carrying of blood do so all the more? For the present argument, what matters is Rabbi Yehoshua’s response: “You have spoken well, but thus have they enjoined as halakhah.” Rabbi Akiva’s argument undermines rather than supports the received tradition and so, despite its analytic acuity (“You have spoken well”), is rejected. As Rabbi Akiva himself states elsewhere: “If this is halakhah, we receive it; but if it is a logical argument [din], there is a rebuttal” (Ḥova pereq 1.12, Weiss 16c; TK 71 [margins]; parallel at m. Keritot 3.9).9 The centrality of extra-scriptural tradition is also apparent in the prohibition against cooking animals in milk:



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Rabbi Akiva says: “The prohibition concerning wild animals and birds is not derived from Scripture, for three times it is written: ‘You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk’ (Exod. 23:19 and 34:26; Deut. 14:21), thereby precluding [lehotziʾ] wild animals and birds and unclean beasts.” (m. Ḥullin 8.4)10 This is an extraordinary passage, first because it is rare for a biblical repetition to function as a preclusion argument.11 More important, in a standard preclusion, the phrase “precluding wild animals and birds and unclean beasts” would mean that these subcategories are not subject to the biblical prohibition; unlike other animals, those in this subcategory can be cooked in milk. But this is not Rabbi Akiva’s argument at all. Rather, he argues that the biblical repetition removes these subcategories from the realm of scriptural prohibition: “The prohibition concerning wild animals and birds is not derived from Scripture.” The ritual prohibition remains in force but is not scriptural. According to Rabbi Akiva, then, Scripture’s repetition directs the sages’ attention to the fact that Scripture itself is vacating space for the introduction of halakhot; the biblical text paves the way for the introduction of extra-biblical law.

Two Post-Tannaitic Portraits of Rabbi Akiva the Interpreter A very different portrait of Rabbi Akiva emerges from post-tannaitic sources.

Babylonian Talmud Menaḥot 29b I begin my discussion of Rabbi Akiva in post-tannaitic sources with the famous description of Moses’ visit to Rabbi Akiva’s bet midrash: Rabbi Judah attributed the following to Rav. When Moses ascended to the heavens, he found God adorning the letters of the Torah with crowns. He said to Him, “Master of the Universe, on whose account are you delaying [the completion of the Torah]?” He said: “There is a person who will come in several generations named Akiva ben Yosef, and he is going to interpret [lidrosh] from all the qotzin heaps and heaps of halakhot. [Moses] said to Him: “Show him to me.” He said: “Return.” So Moses went and sat behind the

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eighth row [in Rabbi Akiva’s bet midrash], and could not understand the discussion. He grew weary. Finally they came to a particular issue, and the students said [to Rabbi Akiva]: “Master, how do you know this?” He said to them: “It is halakhah le-moshe misinai.” [Moses’] mind was at ease.   He went before God and said to Him: “Master of the Universe, you have such a person and yet you give the Torah through me?” God said: “Shut up, this is what I deem right.” He said: “You’ve shown me his greatness in Torah, now show me his reward.” He [God] said: “Return.” He went back and saw that [the Romans] were weighing [Akiva’s] flesh [in the marketplace]. He said [to God]: “Such is Torah and such is its reward?” God said: “Shut up, this is what I deem right.” (b. Menaḥot 29b) Though this extraordinary passage has received much scholarly attention,12 two significant aspects have been overlooked: its relationship to the corresponding Mishnah; and the way it engages the Second Temple tradition of the ignorance of the prophets—and both are critical to a proper understanding of the way b. Menaḥot represents Rabbi Akiva. According to the traditional interpretation, Moses, seeing that the composition of the Torah was complete and that God is occupied with adorning its letters with serifs, asks God, “on whose account are you delaying?” God responds that what appear to be mere adornments are, in fact, of paramount legal importance; for at a future time, Rabbi Akiva will interpret from these graphic qotzin “heaps and heaps of halakhot.” This, in any case, is God’s response if we accept that qotz—which I have left untranslated to this point—refers to a graphic flourish. This is the sense reflected in most translations: “the tips [of the crowns of the letters],”13 “every ornament and ornament,”14 “stroke,”15 “tittle,”16 and the like. This consensus was shaken, perhaps irreparably, by Shlomo Naeh’s essay on this passage, which brilliantly demonstrates that qotz is either a variant form or a corruption of qotzah, a rare word designating a biblical pericope.17 Naeh’s argument is twofold: the lexical one just mentioned; and a second claim—that the now-recovered meaning of qotz as pericope is the one operative in the Menaḥot narrative. Naeh’s lexical argument is, I think, unassailable, but the notion that the Bavli understands qotz to mean pericope—less so. These are distinct issues, since the Menaḥot narrative draws elements from a wide range of sources: the opening sentence (“When Moses ascended to the heavens, he found God adorning the letters of the Torah with crowns”) comes from



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b. Shabbat 89a; the juxtaposition of qotzin and “heaps and heaps” (tilei tilim) is borrowed from a midrash on the phrase qevutzotav taltalim, “His locks are wavy” (Song of Songs 5:11).18 It is possible, then, that the editor imported the term qotzin from a source in which it meant “pericopes,” but whether due to ignorance of this rare meaning or to a consciously revisionist agenda, used the word to denote the graphic flourishes on the letter. As Naeh asks, “Is the original meaning of the phrase ʿal kol qotz ve-qotz retained when it is transferred into the Rabbi Akiva story, or does it carry a new meaning in this narrative framework?”19 Naeh offers a number of compelling arguments in support of his reading. One weakness in the traditional understanding is the terminological shift that occurs mid-narrative: Moses sees God adorning the letters of the Torah with crowns (ketarim), but the graphic elements that Rabbi Akiva will interpret many generations hence are qotzin. This is a critical issue because, as Naeh points out, the juxtaposition and assumed identity of the two underlies the traditional reading; if the difference between the two is substantive and not merely merely nominal, qotzin might not refer to graphic flourishes at all. The identity between ketarim and qotzin is, in the traditional understanding, supported by the dialogue between Moses and God. Moses asks God mi meʿaqev ʿal yadkha, “on whose account are you delaying” by adorning the letters with crowns, and God names Rabbi Akiva who “is going to interpret . . . all the qotzin in the Torah.” But Naeh points to a number of sources in which the phrase mi meʿaqev ʿal yadkha is not interrogative but rather a rhetorical gesture toward God’s omnipotence. In a late midrash, Job wishes to rid the world of harsh judgment and rails against God: “You created the bull with cloven hooves and the donkey with uncloven hooves, you created the Garden of Eden and you created Gehenom, you created the righteous and you created the wicked—mi meʿaqev ʿal yadkha?” (b. Babaʾ Batraʾ 16a).20 Though it is clearly in the same semantic ballpark as “delay”—“who stays your hand” from eliminating harsh judgment from the world?—the phrase expresses wonder at the perceived incongruity between God’s absolute power and apparently constrained actions. This is the sense that Naeh attributes to Moses’ opening statement: You, God, are so great—why do you occupy yourself with scribal adornments? “Because,” God answers, “Rabbi Akiva will eventually appear on the scene and explicate each and every pericope [qotz],” so it is imperative that the biblical text be, in every sense, divine. Naeh can claim several advantages for his interpretation. The discrepancy between the keter in Moses’ question and the qotz in God’s response is no longer

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problematic, since each refers to a different entity—scribal adornments and biblical pericopes, respectively. Further, Rabbi Akiva is not lauded for an interpretive activity—legal midrash based on graphic flourishes—that is unknown in the talmudic corpus, another crux of the traditional understanding. Finally, Naeh claims, the passage “can be securely interpreted in a more modest manner, in keeping with the approach attested throughout the Talmud.”21 Nonetheless, and without derogating in any way the force and originality of Naeh’s philological insight concerning the original meaning of qotz, I think that the broader context of the Menaḥot narrative offers compelling reasons to reject his second argument and to affirm the traditional understanding of the story. One such reason has been argued for by Rubenstein, who notes that our passage is preceded by a tradition cited in the name of Rabbi Judah in the name of Rav, which refers to the qotz of the letter yod—unambiguously referring to a scribal flourish (b. Menaḥot 29a), leading Rubenstein to conclude that “the story has been contextualized with care.”22 We can argue by analogy: since that qotz refers to the tip of the letter yod, and not a pericope of Torah, it is likely that qotz bears the same meaning in our tradition, which is also cited in the name Rabbi Judah in the name of Rav. But the key issue, to my mind, is Menaḥot 29b’s relationship with its Mishnah source:23 The seven branches of the lamp stand can each impair the validity of the others; its seven lamps can each impair the validity of the others. The two portions [of Scripture] in the mezuzah can impair the validity of one another; even a single ketav can impair their validity. The four portions [of Scripture] in the tefillin can impair the validity of one another; even a single ketav can impair their validity. The four fringes can each impair the validity of the others, since the four together form a single mitzvah. Rabbi Ishmael says: “The four constitute four mitzvot.”24 (m. Menaḥot 3.7) A number of textual difficulties in this Mishnah are relevant to the Bavli story. Most pressing is the obscure sense and function of the word ketav.25 Danby follows a number of prominent Mishnah commentators in rendering it with “the shape of one letter.”26 However, in tannaitic Hebrew, ʾot is the standard word for “letter,” while ketav generally refers to a discrete piece of writing, a text, rather than the shape of a letter (though “text” and “letter” can be difficult to discern in some sentences). Commenting on the priest’s writing down and subsequent blotting out of execrations as part of the procedure of the suspected adulteress,



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the Mishnah states that the verse refers “only to writing [ketav] that can be blotted out” (m. Soṭah 2.4). Similarly, the Tosefta speaks of “an amulet of writing [ketav]” as opposed to “an amulet of medicinal roots” (t. Shabbat 4.9 [5.9]).27 In both cases, if ketav denoted a letter, we would expect the plural form, since both the amulet and the text of the suspected adulteress ritual consisted of more than one letter. What, then, is m. Menaḥot 3.7’s “a single ketav”? From the statement “even a single ketav can impair the validity,” we can conclude that it is a smaller textual unit than the pericopes but not much beyond that. Another difficulty involves the legal function of ketav within the two clauses of the mishnah: i. “The two portions in the mezuzah 28 can impair the validity of each other.” ii. “Even a single ketav can impair their validity.” Clause (i) states that the two pericopes are mutually invalidating, which suggests that the ketav may be found in either one, and then both are impaired. But if this is so, clause (ii) does not add anything to (i)—the ketav is simply one of several criteria concerning the biblical passages, which, if present, disqualify the parashah in which it occurs, which, in turn, disqualifies the mezuzah or the tefillin as a whole. But why does the Mishnah single out the ketav over other disqualifying criteria? The explicit mention of the ketav would be justified if it somehow disqualified both parashot directly (clause [ii] certainly lends itself to this interpretation: “even a single ketav invalidates them”), but the Mishnah does not offer guidance as to how a single graphic element in one of the pericopes can do this. So this is another point of unclarity regarding ketav. Finally, I want to call attention to the peculiarity—not full-fledged difficulty—of the word leʿakev. The basic sense of the word is to detain or hinder; but under certain circumstances, it can mean “to invalidate,” Namely, in the context of a ritual act involving more than one constitutive element or act. Thus in the mishnah preceding ours: “The two he-goats of the Day of Purgation [yom kippur] impair the validity of each other. . . The two loaves impair the validity of each other” (m. Menaḥot 3.6). Here both elements (the hegoats and the loaves, respectively) must be present for the fulfillment of the commandment, such that the absence of one renders the other ritually meaningless. The dispute between the anonymous sages and Rabbi Ishmael regarding the status of the four fringes of the tzitzit is illuminating in this regard. The former count the four fringes among the commandments that meʿakev

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one another, while Rabbi Ishmael does not do so on the grounds that “the four constitute four mitzvot”—one invalid or absent tzitzit does not negate the ritual significance of the other three. In other words, if the fringes are not meʿakvin (as per Rabbi Ishmael), the absence of a single tzitzit means that the individual has fulfilled three mitzvot rather than four; if they are meʿakvin (as per the sages), he has fulfilled none. It is worth noting that when these conditions are not met, that is, when there is just one relevant ritual condition, the Mishnah uses the far more common term posel, “disqualify”. The distinction between the two is evident in the following sequence (cited in reverse order): i. “The smaller part of the handful can impair [the validity] [meʿakev] of the greater part.” (m. Menaḥot 3.4) ii. “If two cereal offerings from which the handful had not been taken were mixed together . . . they are disqualified [pesulot].” (m. Menaḥot 3.3) Mishnah 4 enumerates two discrete elements making up the commandment of the handful. One might think that the larger part of the handful fulfills the commandment even without the smaller, but, in fact, the smaller part is a sine qua non of the mitzvah and so is said to be meʿakev. In mishnah 3, two cereal offerings from which the handful has not been taken become commingled such that it is no longer possible to remove the handful from each offering by itself. Each offering is an independent commandment that omits a key procedure, so the Mishnah characterizes them as pesulot and not meʿukavot. If so, it is difficult to understand why mishnah 3.7 asserts that “a single ketav impairs [meʿakev] both [of the pericopes].” The ketav and the parashot are not reciprocal elements of a single commandment: the parashot, after all, are not requisite elements in the proper execution of the ketav, and they can be invalidated for a variety of reasons without the ketav (whatever precisely that is) being affected. In m. Menaḥot the ketav should posel, “disqualify,” the pericopes rather than meʿakev, “impair,” them. For the present argument, the above claims need be offered with relatively weak force. I am not claiming that m. Menaḥot 3.7 is halakhically incomprehensible or that its meaning is hopelessly confounded. I have identified the obscurities regarding the meaning of ketav and the incongruous use of meʿakev because I think that the story of Moses in Rabbi Akiva’s bet midrash is an aggadic explication of the obscure phrase ketav eḥad meʿakev. First, it provides a



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clear definition of the Mishnah’s ambiguous ketav: it is, as the Mishnah suggests, a very small graphic unit—namely, the ketarim or serifs on the Torah scroll’s letters. And the curious use of meʿakev in the Mishnah is set in a fully comprehensible narrative: the crowns of the letters delay God from completing the composition of the Torah so that, quite literally, a single ketav meʿakev. This interpretation resolves one of the difficulties in Naeh’s reading. As noted above, Naeh argues that mi meʿakev beʿadkha is a rhetorical exclamation generated by the disparity between God’s glory and the menial scribal task that God takes on in writing the Torah. But Naeh’s interpretation is undermined by God’s response, which explicitly invokes Rabbi Akiva and so suggests that the question is to be understood literally: “Who stays your hand [in completing the composition of the Torah]?” Rabbi Akiva does, since he will, in the future, interpret the crowns of the letters. The use of meʿakev is further justified by the obvious phonetic similarity of meʿakev and “Akiva”:29 The ketav is meʿakev because it is being composed for Rabbi Akiva. Furthermore, Naeh rightly points to the terminological discrepancy between the ketarim (“crowns”) that provoke Moses’ initial query and the qotzin that figure in God’s response. The incongruity is highlighted by two facts: keter does not appear in earlier strata of rabbinic literature in this sense (later appearances are likely influenced by the narrative); and ketarim and qotzin mean two different things—a graphic flourish and a stroke of the body of the letter, respectively.30 Unrecognized is the possibility that the graphic form of the word keter may be the motivating factor. The Mishnah states: ‫אפילו כתב אחד מעכבן‬ “Even a single ketav delays them.” While the Bavli implies: ‫אפילו כתר אחד מעכבן‬ “Even a single keter impairs/delays them.” Recognizing that this connection cannot be proved, if this correspondence is intended by the Bavli’s author, it represents an extraordinary visual midrash that is completely congruent with the theme of the passage. For the difference between the two statements hangs on the presence or absence of the single scribal line—a single qotz—that distinguishes the bet of the word ketav from the resh of keter.

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I have dwelled on this matter at some length because the Bavli’s emphasis on the textual nature of Rabbi Akiva’s midrash is important to the broader argument of this chapter. The Talmud casts Rabbi Akiva as the ideal reader of Scripture, the one truly accredited reader of the Torah, since it was written from the very outset with him in the (divine) author’s mind. But reader of what? The graphic elements that Rabbi Akiva interprets are remarkable in two ways: they are non-semantic (this point will be discussed in Chapter 8); and they are ineluctably scriptural—they cannot be expressed through speech and so cannot be transmitted orally.31 Comparing the portrait of Rabbi Akiva the interpreter offered here and in the tannaitic sources, it is clear that a profound change has occurred. His scriptural interpretations are not lauded for their ability to provide support to extrascriptural halakhot but rather for their ability to penetrate more deeply into the hidden meaning of the Torah than even Moses at the peak of his powers.32

ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan A 6 I now turn to the second post-tannaitic text to be discussed in detail: ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan’s description of Rabbi Akiva’s entry into scholarship. Before proceeding to the analysis, a comment is apposite regarding this narrative’s “post-tannaitic” classification. Until recently, ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan was viewed as a tannaitic text, and there is little question that some parts of it are indeed quite early.33 But while ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan contains dicta attributed to tannaitic masters, it also contains aggadic tales that serve as exempla to the cited dicta, some of which have been “appended to the text . . . from the Mishnah and Talmud”34 and reflect a relatively late, Babylonian reworking.35 Scholars are understandably reluctant to stake out definitive claims regarding the dating of the work as a whole, as when Jonathan Schofer emphasizes the broad chronological range covered by this text, which “began to be compiled in the second century ce or earlier, grew by accretion, and attained its full form sometime between the sixth and ninth centuries, perhaps even going through further changes afterwards.”36 Fortunately, we need only address the tale of Rabbi Akiva’s entry into Torah study, which can be shown to be posttannaitic. The story begins with (not-yet-rabbi) Akiva first marveling at the power of water to wear away a hard rock, then shamed by unnamed interlocutors for his ignorance of Scripture: “Akiva, have you not read ‘The waters wear away the stones’?” (Job 14:19). So Akiva sets off to learn Torah.37



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He went together with his son, and they appeared before an elementary teacher. Said Rabbi Akiva to him: “Master, teach me Torah.” Rabbi Akiva took one end of the tablet, and his son the other end of the tablet. The teacher wrote down alef bet for him, and he learned it; alef tav, and he learned it; the Book of Leviticus, and he learned it. He went on studying until he learned the whole Torah.   He went and appeared before Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua. “My masters,” he said to them, “reveal the justification [ṭaʿam]38 of mishnah to me.” When they told him a single matter from the Torah [other mss: a single halakhah],39 he went off to be by himself. “This alef,” he wondered, “why was it written? That matter, why was it said?” He came back and asked them, and clarified the matter for them [heʿemidan be-devarim]. . . .   Rabbi Tarfon said to him: “Akiva, of you the verse says ‘the source of the river he probes; hidden things he brings to light’ (Job 28:11). Things concealed from men, you, Rabbi Akiva, brought forth to light.” Yaakov Elbaum demonstrated that this account of Rabbi Akiva is a mosaic of elements drawn from earlier rabbinic sources:40 the poor worker who shares his wages with his household was originally told of Hillel the Elder (b. Yomaʾ 35b); Rabbi Akiva’s distillation of the Torah into the manifesto that “what is hateful to you do not unto others” was also attributed to Hillel the Elder (b. Shabbat 31a),41 and so on. In addition, ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan’s assumption that there were schools during Rabbi Akiva’s lifetime that provided the general public with a broad rabbinic curriculum is anachronistic,42 as is the attendant terminology: ARNA’s melamdei ha-tinoqot appears once in tannaitic literature, in the Tosefta (t. Kelim [Batraʾ], 1.11),43 where it is not clear that these are rabbinic or even Jewish instructors.44 The terminology of the second recension of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan (ARNB) is similarly anachronistic: Rabbi Akiva and his son go to a bet sefer, a phrase whose two tannaitic attestations (m. Ketubot 2.10 and t. Sukkah 2.6) suggest that it is a scribal academy rather than a rabbinic—to say nothing of public—elementary school. By all indications, then, the story is post-tannaitic. Menahem Kahana cites this passage in his study of mishnaic controversy, characterizing it as offering a more extreme version of the lesson of m. Keritot 3.7–10,45 which portrays Rabbi Akiva as initially accepting his masters’ teachings without comment, and growing progressively more willing to engage and

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even dispute them.46 But in focusing on these similarities, I believe that Kahana fails to recognize how deeply the ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan narrative differs from m. Keritot in its focus on the textual dimension of Rabbi Akiva’s study and its concomitant marginalization of extra-scriptural halakhah. The centrality of Scripture to Rabbi Akiva’s scholarly formation is adumbrated at the very beginning of his journey, when his query regarding the worn stones of the well is greeted with a rhetorical “Akiva, have you not read ‘The waters wear away the stones’? (Job 14:19).” But Akiva has not read this verse or any other because he is illiterate, and so begins his dogged pursuit of literacy. After enrolling with an elementary teacher, along with his son, Rabbi Akiva begins studying the alphabet, and then graduates to Leviticus, and ultimately learns the entire Torah. Having mastered this corpus, Rabbi Akiva sits before Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua, the two men whom the Mishnah elsewhere portrays as his masters in the transmission of extra-scriptural halakhah. Akiva says: “Reveal the justification [ṭaʿam] of mishnah to me.”47 The request is surprising for a number of reasons. First, tannaitic sources (including m. Keritot 3) would lead us to expect that Rabbi Akiva would begin his discipleship with Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua studying extra-scriptural halakhot. Instead, he asks Rabbis Eliezer and Yehoshua to teach him the ṭaʿam of a mishnah (or: of the Mishnah). What, exactly, is a ṭaʿam? In tannaitic sources, it is a justification of an extra-scriptural tradition. The first mishnah of tractate Bikkurim lists individuals not obligated to bring first fruits to the Temple, namely, if the fruits are from trees that are not entirely on the individual’s property. The second mishnah then asks: “On the basis of what ṭaʿam (Danby: ‘For what reason’) may he not bring them? Because it is written: ‘The choicest of the first fruits of your land [you shall bring into the house of the Lord your God]’ (Exod. 23:10)” (m. Bikkurim 1.2). However, ṭaʿam is not always scriptural in tannaitic sources but can be logical as well.48 And in most of the manuscript witnesses of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua’s response does not clarify the matter, since they reveal to him “a single halakhah.” But this is nonsensical, irrespective of whether the requested ṭaʿam is logical or scriptural: a halakhah is not the justification of a mishnah—it is a mishnah. In Genizah fragment T-S NS 313.1, however, Rabbi Akiva’s request that his masters “reveal the ṭaʿam of a mishnah to me” is met with the coherent response: “They told him a single matter from the Torah,” that is, they offered him a scriptural ṭaʿam for that mishnah. This reading further explains Rabbi Akiva then setting off to study a written text—presumably, the Torah verse just adduced: “[H]e went off to



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be by himself. ‘This alef,’ he wondered, ‘why was it written? That matter, why was it said?’ He came back and asked them, and clarified the matter for them [heʿemidan be-devarim].” The entire trajectory of the story makes it clear that literacy, not the receipt of traditions, is the key to Rabbi Akiva’s genius. Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua, no longer the tradents of halakhot, have been relegated to a secondary role of providing scriptural “justification” to traditions, and further marginalized by Rabbi Akiva’s brilliant analysis of the biblical prooftext. His textual acumen transforms him from disciple to master who clarifies the matter to his former teachers. But what of the main point of similarity that Kahana draws between ʾAvot de Rabbi Natans narrative and m. Keritot’s portrayal of an increasingly assertive Rabbi Akiva, who is ultimately willing to challenge his teachers? Kahana is right that both sources paint a similar portrait of Rabbi Akiva in this regard, but the terms of engagement are quite different. In m. Keritot, Rabbi Akiva asserts: “If it is halakhah, we must accept it; but if it is a logical argument [din], there is a rebuttal,” and Rabbi Yehoshua sanctions this course of action, saying: “Rebut it” (m. Keritot 3.9). Rabbi Akiva is willing to challenge his teachers, but the Mishnah clearly demarcates the scope of the challenge: it is not the transmitted halakhah that Rabbi Akiva calls into question but only the secondary qol ­va-ḥomer arguments (“inference from the lesser to the greater”). ARNA, in contrast, allots received traditions only secondary importance and, like b. Menaḥot 29b, emphasizes the textual nature of Rabbi Akiva’s learning. Though a comprehensive examination of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan lies beyond the purview of the present discussion, it is worth noting that the same dynamic is present in other parts of this collection. Mishnah ʾAvot 1.1 is the locus classicus of oral transmission: “Moses received torah from Sinai and passed it down to Joshua, and Joshua to the elders, and the elders to the prophets, and the prophets passed it down to the men of the Great Assembly,” and so on, down to the rabbis themselves. The opening of ARNA 6 offers a dramatically different—and wholly scriptural!—comment on the same verse: “Moses received Torah at Sinai . . . whence that He wrote them for him? As it is written ‘He wrote them on two stone tablets’” (Deut. 4:13).49 Commenting on this passage, Menahem Kister notes: “It is evident from the opening of the tractate that ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, unlike the Mishnah, has no interest in emphasizing the transmission of the Oral Law as such.”50 Though I have discussed only b. Menaḥot and ARNA 6 in detail, many texts attest to Rabbi Akiva’s transformation into a scriptural interpreter of

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revelatory, almost oracular ability. In b. Ḥagigah 15b, the angels wished to push Rabbi Akiva away from the pardes—the heavenly realm to which he and three other sages ascended—but God detains them because Rabbi Akiva is “worthy of using God’s glory,” where “using” renders lehishtamesh, a term that regularly refers to oracular consultation;51 Kallah Rabbati52 describes Rabbi Akiva arguing against the positions of Rabbis Yehoshua and Eliezer and, despite the extreme improbability of his view, he is proved correct. This elicits a collective, anonymous response: “Blessed is He who revealed His secret to Rabbi Akiva.”53 Or, as Numbers Rabbah states: “Matters that had not been disclosed to Moses were disclosed to Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues. ‘And his eye sees every precious thing’ (Job 28:10) applies to Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues” (Numbers Rabbah 19.6).54 Also relevant is the derashah attributed to Rabbi Akiva in b. Sanhedrin 4b: Rabbi Ishmael offers a scriptural argument that phylacteries have four totafot (understood by the rabbis to mean compartments), but Rabbi Akiva rejects the argument as unnecessary, since tot means “two” in ktefi and fot means “two” in afriqi. The languages denoted have not been definitively identified, but regardless, Rabbi Akiva’s midrash assumes that the Torah engages in xenoglossia, inspired speech that involves communication by means of a foreign language not known to the speaker.

Conclusion At this point, the transformation of Rabbi Akiva the midrashist is complete. Tannaitic sources had portrayed him as a master midrashist in that he was able to buttress existing extra-scriptural traditions. No longer: key passages in the Babylonian Talmud, later strata of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, and later midrashic collections characterize Rabbi Akiva as an interpreter who is able to reveal truths concealed in the biblical text—at times, almost an oracular interpreter. Extra-scriptural halakhot, in contrast, are no longer a concern.

Chapter 6

Rabbi Akiva, the Anonymous Sifra, and the Hermeneutics of Camouflage

Rabbi Akiva in the Sifra In the previous chapter, I outlined a shift in the representation of Rabbi Akiva the interpreter from mishnaic supporter of extra-scriptural traditions to posttannaitic interpretive shaman. But the Mishnah’s portrayal of Rabbi Akiva may be determined by its own status as repository of such traditions and so should not be taken to be a representative tannaitic position. Indeed, a number of named Sifra derashot suggest that Rabbi Akiva is, already in the tannaitic sources of this work, closer to the extraordinary interpreter of the Babylonian Talmud and ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan than to the restrained midrashist of the Mishnah: §6.1 “Any man [ʾish ʾish] of Aaron’s offspring who has scale disease . . .” (Lev. 22:4): Rabbi Akiva says: “ʾish ʾish, to include the uncircumcised.” (ʾEmor pereq 4.18, Weiss 97a; TK 430) §6.2 “And if [however, a person errs by violating any of the Lord’s prohibitive commandments]” (Lev. 5:17): “Behold it adds to the first matter to say that doubted acts of sacrilege are liable for a suspensive reparation offering,” the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Ḥovah parashah 12.1, Weiss 26b; TK 117)1 §6.3 “[If he feels guilty in any] of these matters [mi-ʾeleh]” (Lev. 5:5): Rabbi Akiva says: “In some of these matters he is liable, and in some of these matters he is exempt. In financial matters he is liable, in nonfinancial matters he is exempt.” (Ḥovah pereq 11.1, Weiss 22c; TK 100)

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§6.4 Whence that when the Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim] falls on a Sabbath and a person inadvertently transgressed and performed a [prohibited] labor whence that he is liable for each in and of itself? Scripture teaches, saying “it is a Sabbath [shabbat huʾ]” (Lev. 23:3), “it is a Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim huʾ]” (Lev. 23:26)—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (ʾEmor parashah 9.8, Weiss 100a; TK 443) These derashot have Rabbi Akiva interpreting, respectively, ʾish ʾish, the opening vav of the verse, the mem of “of these,” and the pronoun huʾ—the very hermeneutic markers that I have argued are so problematic. Furthermore, Rabbi Akiva’s interpretations, especially his use of ribbui, elicit vociferous opposition from certain quarters. In one passage, the sages2 criticize Rabbi Akiva, saying, “even if you offer ribbui arguments all day long, there is nothing here save purification offerings,”3 while Rabbi Yose echoes this critique: “Even if you offer ribbui arguments all day long, there is nothing here other than the burnt offering.”4 Rabbi Akiva’s miʿuṭ, too, is met with a derisive retort: “Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah said to Rabbi Akiva, ‘Even if you argue that “with oil” excludes, or that “with oil” includes from morning until night—I won’t accept your argument.’”5 Still, a number of Sifra passages follow the Mishnah in casting Rabbi Akiva as an interpreter intent on defending extra-scriptural traditions.6

Sifra to Leviticus 11:33 The first of these is the much discussed passage that appears both in the Sifra and in m. Soṭah. I have analyzed it in an earlier essay, and it has been the subject of an extensive study by Ishay Rosen-Zvi:7 §6.5 “[And if any of (the impure dead creatures) falls into an earthenware vessel], everything inside it ‫( ”יטמא‬Lev. 11:33): Rabbi Akiva says: “It does not say ‘shall be impure’ [‫]יט ָמא‬ ְ but rather ‘shall transmit impurity’ [‫]יְ ָט ֵמא‬, meaning that it transmits uncleanness to other objects, thereby indicating that the loaf of bread that has second-level uncleanness imparts third-level uncleanness to other objects.” Rabbi Yehoshua said: “Who will uncover the dust from your eyes, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, for you used to say that a future



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generation will declare the third-level loaf pure, since it is not scriptural [she-loʾ min ha-torah]8—but your disciple Rabbi Akiva adduced a scriptural prooftext for its impurity, as it is written ‘everything inside it shall be impure [‫]יטמא‬.’” (Shemini parashah 7.12, Weiss 54b; TK 226 [parallel at m. Soṭah 5.2]) The Bible states that if a dead animal falls into a vessel, the vessel becomes “directly” impure—this is the first level of impurity. In addition, any object that was in the vessel, says the Bible, such as a loaf of bread, also becomes impure—the second level of impurity. Rabbi Akiva interprets Leviticus 11:33 as indicating that the second-level impure loaf then transmits a third level of impurity if it comes into contact with other foodstuff. According to most interpreters, the derashah hinges on the vocalization of the verb ‫יטמא‬, which the MT vocalizes as a qal (‫)יט ָמא‬ ְ “shall be impure,” but can also be vocalized as a piʿel (‫)יְ ָט ֵמא‬, whose causal force suggests that the loaf within the vessel transmits impurity.9 Upon hearing this interpretation, Rabbi Yehoshua invokes his deceased master, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, recalling his fear that the halakhah concerning the transmission of third-level impurity would be forgotten, since “it is not scriptural.”10 But now, Rabbi Yehoshua continues, “Rabbi Akiva adduced a scriptural prooftext for its impurity,” so the ruling will be maintained by future generations. Nota bene: the lack of scriptural basis is not inherently problematic; the ruling regarding the third level of impurity was known and accepted in Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s time, even though it is not scriptural. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s only concern is that future generations will not abide by the ruling because of its lack of scriptural support, a concern assuaged when the central interpretive figure of the Sifra is able to offer scriptural support. In other words, the Sifra lauds Rabbi Akiva as a great interpreter insofar as he is able to support extra-scriptural traditions midrashically.

Sifra to Leviticus 1:511 The second passage involves a debate between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon12 as to the proper understanding of Leviticus 1:5: “[The offerer] shall slaughter the bull before the Lord; and Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall offer the blood, dashing the blood against all sides of the altar that is at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.” This is the first reference in Leviticus to the

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blood manipulation of the offering, manipulation that could involve the priest sprinkling (hizah; for example, Lev. 4:6) or daubing (natan; for example, Lev. 4:7), but here requires dashing (zaraq). Our verse omits mention of the collection of the blood, a step that the Sifra provides by means of a gloss: “‘[The priests] shall offer’—this refers to the collection of the blood.”13 Rabbi Akiva then asks: “And whence [minayin] that the collection of the blood cannot be performed except by a ritually fit priest, using a sacerdotal vessel [keli sharet]?14 For it speaks here of priestly duties and there of priestly duties: just as the priestly duties spoken there involve a ritually fit priest using sacerdotal vessels, so, too, the priestly duties spoken here involve a ritually fit priest using sacerdotal vessels.” Rabbi Akiva, through gezerah shavah (analogy), argues that since “there,” that is, in another verse, the priestly duties are assigned explicitly to priests who are ritually fit and using the sacerdotal vessels, the same criteria apply to Leviticus 1:5 as well. Rabbi Akiva does not cite the source for the analogy, and later readers have proposed different verses: Exod. 28:41, Num. 3:3, and, most recently, Lev. 16:11–15.15 But whatever the scriptural analogue, Rabbi Tarfon is clearly not convinced: §6.6 Rabbi Tarfon said to him: “Akiva, how much longer will you pile up [verses]16 against us? May I lose my sons if I did not hear a clear distinction between the collection of the blood and its dashing, but I cannot explain it.” Rabbi Tarfon rejects Rabbi Akiva’s argument, on the grounds that collecting and dashing are substantively different rites and thus not amenable to argument by analogy. But there is more at stake, since Rabbi Tarfon’s response hints at a tension between two sources of authority: Rabbi Tarfon heard— that is, received an extra-scriptural, oral tradition—regarding a distinction between the collection and the dashing of the blood, and, on that basis, disparages Rabbi Akiva’s scriptural argument.17 Rabbi Akiva does not call into question the assumptions that animate Rabbi Tarfon’s attack—that is, he does not counter that Scripture is the ultimate source of rabbinic legal authority and trumps any non-scriptural challenge. He accepts Rabbi Tarfon’s scolding and responds with the deferential “allow me to say before you a matter that you have taught me,” namely, that the difference between the collection and the dashing of the blood lies in the priest’s intent, which is not constitutive for the ritual validity of the former but is of the latter. Rabbi Akiva’s argument does not, then, conflict with Rabbi Tarfon’s



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received tradition; there is a difference between the collection and the dashing of the blood—just not one that invalidates Rabbi Akiva’s analogy. This implies that scriptural interpretation that did contradict the extra-scriptural tradition would be jettisoned, a notion that also finds expression in Rabbi Tarfon’s concluding statement: “May I lose my sons! You have not swerved to the right or the left. It was I who received the oral tradition but was unable to explain while you explicate [doresh]18 and agree with the oral tradition [shemuʿah]. Indeed, to depart from you is to depart from life itself.” A similar debate between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon is preserved in the Sifre Numbers. Rabbi Akiva interprets Numbers 10:8 (“The sons of Aaron, the priests, shall blow the trumpets”) as precluding blemished priests. Rabbi Tarfon attacks Rabbi Akiva (“How much longer will you pile up and cite, Akiva?”) and vows that he saw his uncle, a Temple priest, blowing the trumpets even though he had a lame leg. Rabbi Akiva suggests that this may have occurred at occasions in which the blowing of the trumpets by blemished priests was permitted, and Rabbi Tarfon responds enthusiastically: “By the Temple ritual, you did not speak falsely. Blessed are you, our father Abraham, that Akiva emerged from your loins. Tarfon saw but forgot; Akiva interprets [doresh] of his own accord and agrees with the oral tradition. Indeed, to depart from you is to depart from life itself.”19 Some scholars have read these passages as reflecting, in Menachem Fisch’s words, a “strong antitraditionalist bias.”20 But this is simply not the case. Rabbi Akiva is indeed celebrated as a brilliant midrashist; but in both passages, the midrash is, almost in a technical sense, traditionalist. Rabbi Akiva is exalted because his interpretation successfully buttresses a received tradition; his interpretive genius is celebrated for its service to an extra-scriptural halakhah: “You explicate and agree with the oral tradition. Indeed, to depart from you is to depart from life itself.”

Sifra to Leviticus 7:12 §6.7 “If he offers it for thanksgiving, he shall offer together with the sacrifice of thanksgiving unleavened cakes with oil mixed in, unleavened wafers spread with oil” (Lev. 7:12): Rabbi Akiva said: “If it said ‘with oil’ once, I would say it were like all offerings with regard to the log, but when it says ‘with oil’ [a second time], it forms a ribbui, and, in the Torah, a ribbui that follows another ribbui is nothing other than an exclusion, so it limited this case to half a log.”21

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Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah said to Rabbi Akiva: “Even if you argue that ‘with oil’ excludes, or that ‘with oil’ includes from morning until night—I will not accept your argument. Rather, a half-log of oil for thanksgiving offerings . . . is halakhah from Moses at Sinai.” (Tzav pereq 11.4–6, Weiss 34d–35a; TK 155) Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah are in complete agreement regarding the Temple procedure under discussion: both agree that the thanksgiving offering requires half a log of oil. The dispute hinges on the fact that Rabbi Akiva associates this rule with Scripture, while Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah holds it to be already established by extra-scriptural tradition, rendering the midrashic argument moot. The passage leaves uncertain whether Rabbi Akiva is unaware of the extra-scriptural tradition, is aware of it and seeks scriptural support for it, or is aware of it and wishes to displace it.22 Whatever the case, the priority of extra-scriptural tradition to midrash is sufficiently attested. As the Sifra states explicitly in another passage, though Rabbi Akiva’s (apparently scriptural) argument enjoys greater plausibility, it is nonetheless rejected in favor of an established tradition: “The words of Rabbi Eliezer are more plausible than those of Rabbi Yehoshua, and the words of Rabbi Akiva more than those of the other two, but halakhah is according to the words of Rabbi Eliezer.”23

Rabbi Akiva’s Hermeneutics in the Sifra Though significant, derashot that thematize the relationship between midrash and extra-scriptural tradition are relatively rare, so it is necessary to examine Rabbi Akiva’s interpretive practices in the Sifra more broadly. In what follows, I endeavor to show that these are, on the whole, far removed from the unfettered hermeneutics generally associated with this tanna. The large number of derashot involved makes exhaustive analysis of each impractical, so I have cited similar derashot in the endnotes at the end of each subsection. To begin with, many of Rabbi Akiva’s Sifra derashot are attentive to the language of Scripture, as the following examples, with brief explanatory glosses, demonstrate: §6.8 “[A man . . . with a blemish shall not be qualified to offer the food of his God . . . a man who has . . .] a maruaḥ testicle” (Lev. 21:18–20):



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Rabbi Ishmael says: “Anyone whose testicles have been crushed [nimreḥu]”; Rabbi Akiva says: “Anyone who has a gap or swelling [revaḥ] in his testicles.” (ʾEmor parashah 3.15, Weiss 95c; TK 423) Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva offer alternative roots as the basis for the word maruaḥ; both suggestions are motivated by phonetic similarity to the biblical word. §6.9 Rabbi Akiva says: “‘If any man dishonors his father and his mother’ (Lev. 20:9)—for whatever he is liable regarding his father, he is also liable regarding his mother; for whatever he is not liable regarding his father, he is also not liable regarding his mother.” (Qedoshim pereq 9.9, Weiss 92a; TK 411) Leviticus 20:9 addresses the case of a man who dishonors “his father vav his mother,” with two possible interpretations of the vav. It can be a conjunctive, “and”—in which case, both elements of the phrase must be present for the statute to take effect: one must dishonor both father and mother to count as a transgression. Alternatively, the vav may be disjunctive, “or”—in which case, it is enough for a person to dishonor either mother or father.24 Rabbi Akiva’s assertion that the vav refers to the statutory equivalence of the father and the mother resolves a genuine ambiguity in the biblical text. §6.10 “When he has finished purging the inner sanctuary”25 (Lev. 16:20): If he purged, he finished—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Aḥare Mot parashah 4.1, Weiss 81d; TK 347) The phrase “finished purging” could suggest that there is a purging process made up of discrete units, such that a priest could have purged half of the inner sanctuary. Rabbi Akiva clarifies that this is not the case: one may speak of purging only after the process is completed. §6.11 “If a quadruped that you may eat has died, anyone who touches it shall be impure until evening . . . and anyone who carries its carcass shall launder his clothes and remain impure until evening” (Lev. 11:39–40): Rabbi Akiva says: “‘Anyone who touches’ and ‘anyone who carries’—one who touches it is included in the category [baʾ likhelal] of carrying; he who is not included in the

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category of touching is not included in the category of carrying.” (Shemini parashah 10.6, Weiss 57a; TK 278) Leviticus distinguishes two actions that pertain to the impurity of a dead quadruped: touching and carrying. Though these may be read as distinct acts, Rabbi Akiva clarifies that this is not so: touching the animal is an instance of carrying, and the verse refers to a single legal case. §6.12 “If, when he sees the infection, the infection in the walls of the house is found to consist of bright red eruptions, which appear deeper than the wall. . . . If he sees the infection has spread . . . the priest shall order the stones with the infection in them to be pulled out and cast outside the city into an impure place”26 (Lev. 14:37–40): . . . “Might it be that he needs to see [the infection] on two walls? Scripture teaches, saying ‘[they] appear deeper than the wall’—even a single wall. Might it be that [it is an infection] even if it is on one stone? Scripture teaches, saying ‘the stones to be pulled out’—no fewer than two stones,” the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Metzoraʿ parashah 6.4, Weiss 73b; TK 303) Rabbi Akiva responds to Leviticus 14’s reference to the single infected wall (“deeper than the wall”) but to the plural stones (“the stones to be pulled out”) that must be removed. §6.13 “when a person will have on the skin of his body [a swelling, a rash, or a discoloration . . .]” (Lev. 13:2): Regarding open sores, if the appearance [of the affection] changed . . . Rabbi Akiva says: “Whether the change is toward leniency or toward stringency, the affection must be inspected anew. For this reason it states, ‘when a person will have.’” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 1.1, Weiss 60a; TK 250–251) Rabbi Akiva focuses on the verse’s use of the imperfect form (“when a person will have [yehiyeh] on the skin of his body”), which he interprets to mean that a change in the appearance of the affection necessitates a new examination, since Scripture is concerned with what will be the case, rather than cases in which the person had an affection and it changed.27 §6.14 “When a person sins by committing a sacrilege against the Lord in that he has dissembled to his fellow in a matter of a deposit”



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(Lev. 5:21): Rabbi Akiva says: “What does Scripture teach in saying ‘committing a sacrilege against the Lord’? It is because the borrower and the lender, or any two sides involved in a commercial transaction, do not proceed without witnesses and contracts. Therefore, when a person dissembles, he does so against the witnesses and the contract. But when one who deposits something with his fellow and does not want a soul to know about it—other than the third who stands between them—when he deceives, he deceives the third who stands between them.” (Ḥovah pereq 22.4, Weiss 27d; TK 123) This derashah, one of the most poetic and beautiful in the Sifra, takes as its starting point the apparent incongruity between Leviticus’s assertion that a man deceiving his fellow in a matter of a deposit counts as “a sacrilege against the Lord.” Rabbi Akiva’s explanation focuses on the relatively private nature of the agreement between the owner of the object and the bailee to whom the object is entrusted. Other commercial transactions establish a third party that serves as a guarantor, be it human witnesses or an affirmed contract. Not so Leviticus 5:21, where the sides come to an agreement on the basis of mutual trust, needing only the consent of the two parties, but implicitly assigning the role of guarantor to God. So it is, therefore, against God that the bailee sins if he lies to the depositor, “committing a sacrilege against the Lord in that he has deceived his fellow in a matter of a deposit.” This derashah transforms an apparent syntactic irregularity into a rich theological statement affirming God’s presence even in a private transaction.28 I am not arguing that derashot §6.8–§6.14, along with the kindred passages cited in the preceding endnotes, ought to be considered correct or even self-evident interpretations, or that they adhere to the plain sense of Scripture. But they take the language of Scripture as their starting point, consistently responding to some element in the verse—an ambiguous term, an unusual verbal tense, a shift from singular to plural, and so forth. They are, in other words, attentive to the same sorts of hermeneutic markers that play so important a role in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.

Inclusion Derashot We might well expect Rabbi Akiva’s inclusion derashot to manifest a freer relationship with the biblical text because so many of the anonymous Sifra

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inclusions do just that and because Rabbi Akiva’s contemporaries criticize him for these ribbuyim. It is something of a surprise, then, to find Rabbi Akiva’s inclusion derashot to be, on the whole, well anchored in the language of Scripture. For starters, the named Sifra derashot employ two inclusion terms—lehaviʾ and lerabbot (“introduce” and “include,” respectively)—each anchored in a different textual phenomenon. The first is generally employed when the verse contains the word kol (“all” or “every”): §6.15 “[No cereal offering] that you offer [kol ha-minḥa]” (Lev. 2:11): Rabbi Yose the Galilean says: “To introduce [lehaviʾ] the bread of presence.” Rabbi Akiva says: “To introduce the libation offering.” (Nedavah parashah 12.2, Weiss 11d; TK 49) §6.16 “[He shall then present . . . the suet that covers the entrails] and all the suet [kol ha-ḥelev] that is around the entrails” (Lev. 3:3): Rabbi Ishmael says: “To introduce the suet that surrounds the stomach.” Rabbi Akiva says: “To introduce the suet that is on the small bowels.” (Nedavah parashah 14.6, Weiss 14b; TK 61) §6.17 “You shall not eat any [kol] of the suet of the ox, sheep, or goat” (Lev. 7:23): “I know only regarding the suet of the ox and the sheep and the goat that have been specified. Whence to include crossbred species [kilayim]? Scripture teaches, saying ‘[any (kol) of the suet of] the ox, sheep, or goat’”—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Tzav parashah 10.4, Weiss 38c; TK 170)29 The use of kol as the basis for expanding the scope of the biblical verse puts Rabbi Akiva’s lehaviʾ derashot in close proximity to the Rabbi Ishmael formulas kelal u-feraṭ (“a general statement followed by a particular instance”) and kelal u-feraṭ u-khelal (“a general statement followed by a particular instance and another general statement”), which are likewise set in motion by the presence of the word kol or one of its cognates.30 The second type of expansion, the ribbui, is linked not to the word kol but rather to scriptural superfluities. §6.18 “If a person does wrong: when he has heard a public imprecation . . . [and although he was a witness, either having seen or known [the facts]—yet he does not testify, then he must bear his punishment]” (Lev. 5:1): Rabbi Akiva says: “I know only regarding a person who has transgressed intentionally on his own behalf. Whence regarding one who has transgressed unintentionally on his



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own behalf or, intentionally or unintentionally on the behalf of others? Scripture teaches, saying ‘And although he was a witness, either having seen or known—yet does not testify, then he must bear his punishment,’ to include all these cases.” (Ḥovah parashah 8.3, Weiss 22c; TK 99) §6.19 “When you enter the land and plant any kind of fruit tree, you shall foreskin its foreskin—its fruit; three years it shall be foreskin for you” (Lev. 19:23):31 . . . “‘Its fruit’—excepting leaves and shoots and the sap of vines and newly fashioned grape berries. Or perhaps I exclude underdeveloped grapes and unripe fruit? Scripture teaches, saying ‘its fruit,’ ‘its fruit’”32—the words of Rabbi Yose the Galilean. Rabbi Akiva says: “‘you shall foreskin its foreskin [ve-ʿaraltem et ʿorlato] . . . they shall be foreskinned [ʿarelim] for you’ to include all these cases.” (Qedoshim parashah 3.3, Weiss 90a; TK 403) In both derashot, Rabbi Akiva bases his ribbui on the unnecessarily prolix formulations of Leviticus. Having stated that the individual in question is “a witness,” Leviticus 5:1 does not need to add “either having seen or known,” since such conditions are constitutive of witnesshood. That it does, Rabbi Akiva argues, indicates that Scripture is extending the scope of the clause to include additional cases. In §6.19, he identifies the threefold repetition of the root ʿa-r-l in the phrase “you shall foreskin its foreskin [ve-ʿaraltem et ʿorlato] . . . they shall be foreskinned [ʿarelim] for you” as the basis for the ribbui. To be sure, these interpretive techniques are not free of arbitrariness—who is to say that Rabbi Akiva’s ribbui (or Rabbi Yose the Galilean’s) extends to these particular fruits and not others? Still, they are responding to an identifiable phenomenon, anchoring the extension of legal cases in the language of Scripture. Even the ribbui that elicited Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah’s angry “even if you argue that ‘with oil’ excludes, or that ‘with oil’ includes from morning until night—I will not accept your argument” is based on the repetition (that is, the ribbui) of the phrase “with oil” in Leviticus 7:12: “If he offers it for thanksgiving, he shall offer together with the sacrifice of thanksgiving unleavened cakes with oil mixed in, unleavened wafers spread with oil.”

Intertextuality In Chapter 3, I argued that the Sifra’s talmud lomar arguments employ the same verse or stich in both the opening phrase (typically, yakhol or minayin) and the conclusion, thereby depriving the derashah of any intertextual force.

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But this is not true of the named derashot, a number of which shed light on one verse by means of another, including several by Rabbi Akiva: i. An argument from analogy between two verses (Nedavah parashah 4.4, Weiss 6b; TK 21) ii. An argument from analogy between two verses (Nedavah parashah 13.4, Weiss 12c; TK 53). iii. An “I might understand” reading of Exodus 29:37 rejected in light of Leviticus 6:2 (Tzav parashah 1.3, Weiss 29a; TK 129) iv. An argument from analogy between two verses (Shemini pereq 5.2, Weiss 50b–c; TK 211) v. A “might it be” reading of Leviticus 11:31, rejected in light of Leviticus. 11:29 (Shemini pereq 7.4, Weiss 52b–c; TK 219) vi. An argument from analogy between two verses (Tazriʿa pereq 12.6, Weiss 67d; TK 279)

Ha-Katuv and Other Formulas Another shared term is ha-katuv, which, in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, serves as an active personification of Scripture, and so, too, in the named Rabbi Akiva derashot of the Sifra: i. Rabbi Akiva says: “If ha-katuv punishes . . . how much the more so will it pay recompense to one who performs a commandment” (Ḥovah parashah 12.8, Weiss 26d–27a; TK 119–120) ii. Rabbi Akiva says: “Just as we find that ha-katuv did not differentiate between the cereal offering of an Israelite sinner and the cereal offering of a priestly sinner . . . let us not differentiate the freewill offering of an Israelite from the freewill offering of a priest. (Tzav parashah 2.3, Weiss 30c; TK 134) iii. Rabbi Akiva says: “Since ha-katuv designated the single grape bunches as permitted to the poor, can they come and take them any time they want?” (Qedoshim pereq 3.1, Weiss 88a; TK 395) Indeed, the named Rabbi Akiva derashot employ both the terminology and, more important, the attendant hermeneutic logic familiar from the Rabbi ­Ishmael midrashim.



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§6.20 “These are the fixed times of the Lord, which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions” (Lev. 23:37): Rabbi Akiva says: “What is the instruction? If concerning festival days, festival days are already stated [haloʾ kevar neʾemar]. As it is written ‘apart from the sabbath days of the Lord’ (Lev. 23:38)33 and ‘on the first day, rest and on the eighth day, rest’ (Lev. 23:39). If so, why is ‘you shall proclaim as sacred occasions’ stated? . . . These are the intermediate days of the holiday in which work is prohibited.” (ʾEmor parashah 12.7, Weiss 102b; TK 455–456) Leviticus 23:37 (“These are the fixed times of the Lord, which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions”) appears to command the Israelites to mark the sanctity of festival days. But this instruction is also communicated by Leviticus 23:38 and 23:39. If so, “what is the instruction” of verse 37? Rabbi Akiva concludes that verse 37 is not addressing the festivals but rather some other category of sanctified time—to wit, the intermediate days of the holiday (moʿed). In a derashah whose conclusion I cite below, a student explains the word “day” in the verse “on the eighth day, the foreskin of his member shall be circumcised” (Lev. 12:3) as a necessary corrective against a possible misinterpretation: taken in conjunction with its antecedent’s assertion that the woman who bears a son “shall be impure for seven days” (Lev. 12:2) one might erroneously aggregate the two periods and conclude that the boy may be circumcised on the fifteenth day.34 According to the student, then, Leviticus 12:3 teaches that circumcision can only be performed at eight days. §6.21 Rabbi Akiva said to him: “You have sunk,35 for it has already been stated [haloʾ kevar neʾemar], throughout your generations, every male among you shall be circumcised when he is eight days old” (Gen. 17:12). (Tazriʿa pereq 1.2, Weiss 58b–c; TK 243–244) Though unwieldy in the English translation, the argument is clear enough: Rabbi Akiva dismisses the student’s argument as insufficiently attentive to the broader scriptural context. The interpretation is unnecessary, since Genesis 17:12 already provides the desired conclusion. Some of the other formulas Rabbi Akiva employs are: i. “If so, why was this stated?” (Nedavah parashah 7.3, Weiss 8d; TK 33)

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ii. Interplay of din and Scripture (Metzoraʿ parashah 1.4, Weiss 70a–b; TK 288) iii. “What is the instruction” of a putatively extraneous word in Leviticus 14:21 (Metzoraʿ parashah 4.4, Weiss 72c; TK 299) iv. “If so, what meaning do I establish?” (Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 9.12, Weiss 79c; TK 335) v. “One verse states . . . but another verse states . . .” (Aḥare parashah 1.2, Weiss 79c; TK 336) All these derashot are employed in a way that is congruent with the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and, more important, is meaningfully interpretive.

Apparent Discontinuities: Derashot §§6.1–4 Revisited If Rabbi Akiva’s Sifra derashot are, on the whole, attentive to Scripture, intertextual, and terminologically consistent with the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, what are we to make of the jarring derashot introduced at the beginning of this chapter? In light of the analysis thus far, they may merit closer examination: §6.1 “Any man [ʾish ʾish] of Aaron’s offspring who has scale disease . . .” (Lev. 22:4): Rabbi Ishmael says: “It speaks here of a resident hireling [toshav ve-śakhir], and it speaks of a resident and a hireling at the paschal offering. Just as the resident and hireling spoken of at the paschal offering disqualify the uncircumcised, so, too, the resident and hireling spoken of here disqualify the uncircumcised.” Rabbi Akiva says: “ʾish ʾish, to include the uncircumcised.” (ʾEmor pereq 4.18, Weiss 97a; TK 429–430) The dispute in question appears to pit Rabbi Ishmael’s sober and textually grounded approach against Rabbi Akiva’s unfettered reading. The former draws an analogy between toshav ve-śakhir in Leviticus (“neither may a priest’s resident hireling eat sacred food” [Lev. 22:10]) and in Exodus (“no resident hireling may eat of it” [Exod. 12:45]). Since the Passover ordinance states explicitly that the prohibition applies to non-Israelites (“no foreigner shall eat of it” [Exod. 12:43]), Rabbi Ishmael argues by gezerah shavah that foreigners (“the uncircumcised”) are prohibited from eating the sacred donations as well. Rabbi Akiva, in contrast, learns the prohibition against foreigners from



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the repetitionʾish ʾish, a technique whose problematic nature was addressed at length in Chapters 1 and 2. But closer examination suggests that Rabbi Akiva’s argument is not of a piece with the ʾish ʾish derashot discussed in those chapters. Here is a fuller citation from Leviticus 22:4–6: “Any man [ʾish ʾish] of Aaron’s offspring who has scale disease or a chronic discharge . . . may not eat of the sacred donations until he is pure. . . . Or a man [ʾo ʾish] who has an emission of semen, or a man [ʾo ʾish] who touches any swarming thing by which he is made impure . . . that person shall be impure until evening.” As the underlined instances of ʾish make clear, Rabbi Akiva’s ribbui might not be generated by the opening ʾish ʾish at all but rather responds to the same kind of verbal excess that elsewhere engenders Rabbi Akiva’s ribbuyim. The passage provides several possible candidates: the phrase “a man [ʾish] . . . who has an emission of semen” is arguably superfluous, since the male identity of the emitter is presumably self-evident; the second ʾo ʾish (“ʾo ʾish who touches . . .”) is also superfluous, since the two states of impurity— seminal emission and contact with a swarming thing—could be introduced without restating the subject (*“ʾish who has an emission of semen, or who touches any swarming thing by which he is made impure”); both the ʾo ʾish statements are redundant, since the opening ʾish ʾish already identifies the subject of the passage as “any man of Aaron’s offspring.” Within the broader context of the passage, then, Rabbi Akiva’s ribbui is much less arbitrary than it first appears. Indeed, the gloss “ʾish ʾish—to include the uncircumcised” may not even refer to the phrase ʾish ʾish but rather to the redundant occurrences of ʾish at the end of verse 4 and the beginning of verse 5, or to these occurrences in conjunction with the opening ʾish ʾish. Regardless (and I do not think that the question can be definitively decided on the basis of the Sifra text), the ribbui is not motivated by the phrase ʾish ʾish in and of itself; it is, rather, some combination of ʾish ʾish and the repetitions of ʾish in verses 4 and 5 that counts as the hermeneutically marked redundancy that anchors Rabbi Akiva’s midrash.36 What of Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation of the vav in §6.2—a technique strongly associated with the figure of Rabbi Akiva?37 Does Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation of “and if . . .” mark him as an arbitrary interpreter? Poorly, if at all. The derashah reads: §6.2 “And if [however, a person errs by violating any of the Lord’s prohibitive commandments]” (Lev. 5:17): “Behold it adds to the first matter to say that doubted acts of sacrilege are liable for a

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suspensive reparation offering”—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Ḥovah ­parashah 12.1, Weiss 26b; TK 117) Turning again to the broader biblical context, the preceding section opens with the phrase “If [also translated: when] a person commits a sacrilege [nefesh ki timʿol maʿal]” (Lev. 5:14), and proceeds to enumerate the requisite reparations. Our verse (v. 17) introduces the related case of a person who violated a commandment unawares, and opens with the phrase ve-ʾim nefesh ki teḥṭaʾ. The combination “nefesh ki [+ verb]” means “if a person [+ verb]” and is the protasis of a general conditional. But ʾim, usually translated “if,” is also the protasis of a conditional,38 so that the sequence ve-ʾim nefesh ki teḥṭaʾ contains two protaseis in succession and thus counts as hermeneutically marked. Furthermore, nefesh ki teḥṭaʾ parallels nefesh ki timʿol (“If a person commits a sacrilege”) in verse 15, rendering ve-ʾim in verse 17 superfluous. Rabbi Akiva’s derashah recognizes the syntactical issue and tries (with uncertain success) to explain ve-ʾim nefesh ki teḥṭaʾ as an appendix to the previous discussion (“Behold it adds to the first matter”).39 A similar dynamic is at play with §6.3, which is based on the mem of “If he feels guilty in one of these matters [me-ʾeleh]” (Lev. 5:5). The verse does not state that the individual feels guilty “in these matters” (a hypothetical *vehaya ki yeʾashem le-ʾeleh) but rather “in one of these matters.” The mem functions as a partitive genitive that limits the culpability of the transgressor to a subsection of the transgressions listed in verses 1–4. And this is precisely how Rabbi Akiva interprets the verse: “In some of these matters he is liable, and in some of these matters he is exempt.” Derashah §6.4’s interpretation of the pronouns “it is a sabbath [shabbat huʾ]” and “it is a Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim huʾ]” appears at first to have been cut from the same cloth as the emphatically repeated pronoun derashot discussed in Chapter 2. Here is the derashah, once again: §6.4 Whence that when the Yom Kippur falls on a Sabbath and a person inadvertently transgressed and performed a prohibited labor whence that he is liable for each in and of itself? Scripture teaches, saying “it is a sabbath [shabbat huʾ]” (Lev. 23:3), “it is a Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim huʾ]” (Lev. 23:26)—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (ʾEmor parashah 9.8, Weiss 100a; TK 443). But here too closer examination reveals significant differences, the most obvious of which is that Rabbi Akiva does not use huʾ as an exclusion marker, the



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role explicitly assigned pronouns by the anonymous Sifra: “ʾotah and hiʾ are exclusion markers.”40 What, then, is the interpretive force of the pronominal phrases, “it is a sabbath [shabbat huʾ]” and “it is a Day of Purgation [yom hakippurim huʾ]”? The answer, again, is found in the broader biblical context of the enumeration of the sacred occasions in Leviticus 23. These include the Sabbath (v. 3), the Passover (vv. 5–8), the first barley offering (vv. 9–14), the first wheat offering (vv. 15–22), the festival of alarm blasts (Rosh Hashanah; vv. 23–25), the Day of Purgation (yom kipppur) (vv. 26–31), and the Festival of Booths (vv. 33–36). Taken together, these holidays exhibit an interesting pattern: A pronominal phrase is appended to the Sabbath, the first festival, “You should do no work; it is a sabbath [shabbat huʾ],” but the Passover, first barley offering, the first wheat offering, and Rosh Hashanah are introduced without a corresponding phrase. The pronominal phrase reappears with the Day of Purgation, “You should do no work on that day; it is a Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim huʾ]” but is again absent for the Festival of Booths. Read against the backdrop of the unmarked reference to the Passover, first barley offering, first wheat offering, Rosh Hashanah, and the Festival of Booths, Scripture’s emphatic repetition on the Sabbath [shabbat huʾ] and the Day of Purgation [yom ha-kippurim huʾ] is noteworthy and, it stands to reason, the basis for Rabbi Akiva’s midrash. Whence that work on the Day of Purgation that falls on the Sabbath counts as two separate transgressions? From the fact that Scripture marks the prohibition against work on these days (and only these days) with an emphatic “it is a sabbath” and “it is the Day of Purgation.” Rabbi Akiva concludes that each of these occasions remains “in force” even when the two coincide. At its core, this is an intertextual derashah, a kind of gezerah shavah that connects the two festivals on the basis of this emphatic pronoun: “it is the Sabbath,” even if it happens to fall on the Day of Purgation, and vice versa. While the derashah’s surface structure is similar to the other huʾ exclusions in the Sifra, it could not, in fact, be more different.

Rabbi Akiva as Interpretive Outlier The relatively coherent and rule-based nature of Rabbi Akiva’s hermeneutic explains why most of his derashot coexist peacefully alongsidethe conclusions of other sages. For instance, in §6.16, Rabbi Ishmael’s ribbui teaches: “To introduce the suet that surrounds the stomach”; Rabbi Akiva’s ribbui teaches: “To introduce the suet that is on the small bowels.” Still, Rabbi Akiva does

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sometimes play the role of interpretive outlier. The Sifra attributes to Rabbi Akiva a small number of recalcitrant derashot that I struggle to explain in terms of hermeneutic markedness and scriptural semantics: §6.22 “And a man or a woman, if there be in him an affection on the head or in the beard” (Lev. 13:29): “‘Man’—to introduce the case of a scall separated within a scall”—the words of Rabbi Akiva. (Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 5.1, Weiss 65b; TK 270) This is, first of all, one of two named Sifra derashot in which “to introduce” (lehaviʾ) does not follow a verse that contains the word kol.41 Moreover, it is difficult to see how the verse links “man” to the case of a scall separated within a scall42—difficult, but perhaps not impossible. Tzvi Novick has suggested the following subtle interpretation:43 What draws R. Akiva’s attention is the contrast between Leviticus 13:29, which refers to “a scall in the head or the beard” (nagaʿ be-roʾsh oʾ be-zaqan), and Leviticus 13:30, which speaks of “scale disease of the head or the beard” (tzaraʿat ha-roʾsh oʾ ha-zaqan). That is, Leviticus 13:29 seems to speak of a scall that is within rather than simply of the head and beard, and this distinction marks the verse and legitimates the interpretation. I am afraid that the language of the derashah is too lapidary to decide the matter. If this proposal is accepted, §6.22 is another of Rabbi Akiva’s prima facie undisciplined interpretations that reveal themselves, upon closer examination, to be scrupulously textual. If it is not accepted, the derashah stands as a rare example of Rabbi Akiva offering an obscure midrash. There remains the matter of the often polemical response of other tannaim to Rabbi Akiva’s ribbuyim: §6.23 “And every purification offering [ve-khol ḥaṭʾat], however, may not be eaten from which any blood is brought into the Tent of Meeting to effect purgation” (Lev. 6:23): “Purification offering”— from this I know only regarding purification offerings. Whence to include all the sacred donations? Scripture teaches, saying “and every purification offering”—the words of Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Yose the Galilean said to him: “Akiva! Even if you offer ribbui arguments all day long, there is nothing here save purification offerings. If so, why was ‘and every [ve-khol]’ stated? Since I might understand it to state that I have only the purification offering of the individual, whence the purification offering of the congregation?



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Scripture teaches, saying ‘and every [ve-khol].’” (Tzav pereq 8.1, Weiss 33a; TK 146) Rabbi Yose’s response is decidedly acrimonious, but his tone should not distract us from the limited scope of his criticism. Rabbi Akiva’s argument is textually anchored in the word kol, a move Rabbi Yose the Galilean endorses when he offers his own inclusion gloss. The difference between the two inclusions lies in their scope. Rabbi Akiva uses “every [kol] purification offering” to introduce a broader sacrificial category—all sacred donations; Rabbi Yose objects to this on the grounds that “there is nothing here save purification offerings,” that is, since the verse addresses only purification offerings, there is no warrant for expanding beyond that category. He then offers an alternative inclusion, also based on kol, of the purification offerings of the congregation. A similar complaint is lodged against Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation of Leviticus 22:18: §6.24 “Whenever any person from the house of Israel or from the aliens in Israel presents an offering for all of his vows [le-khol nidrehem] or all of his freewill offerings [le-khol nidvotam], which may be presented to the Lord as a burnt offering” (Lev. 22:18):44 Whence to include the bird offerings and the cereal offerings and the wine and the frankincense and the logs? Scripture teaches, saying “his vows,” “all of his vows”; “his freewill offerings,” “all of his freewill offerings.” If so, why does Scripture state, “which may be presented to the Lord as a burnt offering”? Except for the Nazirite offering— the words of Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Yose the Galilean said to him, “Even if you offer ribbui arguments all day long, there is nothing here other than the burnt offering.” (ʾEmor parashah 7.2, Weiss 98a; TK 434) Again, Rabbi Akiva enlists the word kol (both occurrences of it, in this case) to extend the meaning of the verse beyond its stated theme: Leviticus speaks of vow and freewill offerings “which may be presented to the Lord as a burnt offering,” while Rabbi Akiva introduces the bird offerings and the cereal offerings and the wine and the frankincense and the logs. And as with §6.23, Rabbi Yose the Galilean does not challenge the basic legitimacy of Rabbi Akiva’s ribbui but does insist that it not be extended so far that it contravenes the language of Scripture: “there is nothing here other than the burnt offering.”45

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Conclusion I opened Chapter 5 with Heschel’s characterization of Rabbi Akiva as an interpreter for whom “strangeness in the text was a gateway to the discovery of the Torah’s secrets” and who “extracted from every jot and tittle in the text piles and piles of halakhot.” “Each word, each letter issues the invitation: ‘Interpret me!’”46 Chapter 5 and the present chapter are correctives to this widely held view. Chapter 5 serves this purpose by identifying the shift from the representation of Rabbi Akiva the interpreter from tannaitic to post-tannaitic sources, a shift epitomized in the difference between the midrashic encomia that Rabbi Tarfon offers Rabbi Akiva. In the Sifra, Rabbi Tarfon praises Rabbi Akiva for his ability to interpret Scripture so as to uphold an extra-scriptural tradition: “It was I who received the oral tradition but was unable to explain, while you explicate [doresh] and agree with the oral tradition” (§6.6); in ʾAvot de-Rabbi Natan, in contrast, Rabbi Tarfon praises Rabbi Akiva as a wondrous, singular interpreter whose midrash constitutes a form of revelation: “Akiva, of you the verse says, ‘The source of the river he probes; hidden things he brings to light’ (Job 28:11). Things concealed from men, you, Rabbi Akiva, brought forth to light.”47 The present chapter traces a second line of demarcation, between the Sifra’s anonymous derashot and those attributed to Rabbi Akiva. Contrary to received wisdom, Rabbi Akiva emerges as a relatively sober interpreter: attentive to hermeneutic markers, committed to intertextual elucidation, consistent in his use of midrashic terminology (hakatuv, din, “what is the instruction,” and so on). Even prima facie problematic derashot based on ʾish ʾish, or huʾ, or an opening vav, are shown, upon further analysis, to be plausible and rule-bound. Within the tannaitic sources, Rabbi Akiva turns out to be much closer to Rabbi Ishmael. At least with regard to the mechanics of legal midrash. But there remains a profound difference between the two with regard to the status of midrash vis-à-vis extra-scriptural tradition. For the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, interpretation enjoys primacy, almost exclusivity, as a source of legal authority.48 Rabbi Akiva, in contrast, privileges extra-scriptural tradition and, where the two overlap, relegates midrash to an ancillary role. Consider, in this regard, the abundance of extra-scriptural terminology in the Sifra. A significant number of derashot use the term mishem49 (“in the name of”), which identifies the tradent of an extra-scriptural tradition.50 Other derashot speak of the “testimony” of sages, another technical term for the transmission of halakhot,51 and the Sifra also refers to the authority of divre soferim, “the words of the scribes,” and to non-scriptural decrees (taqanot).52 Moreover, a number of



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passages state explicitly that extra-scriptural traditions enjoy priority over scriptural argument, since the midrashim are proposed “in keeping with” the words of the sages or are intended “to sustain” them: §6.25 “[If the anointed priest so does wrong,] he shall bring a bull of the flock [par ben baqar] to the entrance of the Tent of Meeting before the Lord” (Lev. 4:3–4): “Bull”—might it be old? Scripture teaches, saying ben [lit., “son”]. If a “son,” might it be a young [bull]? Scripture teaches, saying “bull.” How so? A three-year-old bull, in keeping with the words of the sages. (Ḥovah pereq 3.1, Weiss 17b; TK 74) §6.26 “If, however, he is poor and his means are insufficient, he shall take a reparation offering of one male lamb for an elevation offering to make expiation for him, one-tenth [of an ephah] of semolina mixed with oil for a cereal offering, a log of oil” (Lev. 14:21): This teaches that each and every tenth requires a log, as per the words of the sages. (Metzoraʿ parashah 4.5, Weiss 72c; TK 299) §6.27 “[When disease occurs in a fabric] If [the affection] reappears in the fabric, or in the warp, or in the woof, or in any article of skin, it is breaking out afresh; you shall destroy the affected material by fire” (Lev. 13:49–57): They asked Rabbi Eliezer, what if the affection is on one stripe only? He replied, I have heard no tradition about this. Rabbi Judah ben Batirah said to him: “I will examine the matter.” He said to him, “If in order to sustain the words of the sages—yes.” Perhaps it will remain unchanged for a period of two weeks, and [a sign] that remains unchanged in clothes for two weeks is impure. Rabbi Eliezer said: “You are a great sage, for you sustained the words of the sages.” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 16.9, Weiss 69c–d; TK 286 [parallel at m. Negaʿim 11.7])53 The rich inventory of oral-traditional terms in the Sifra contrasts sharply with the Mekhilta. “In the name of” (mishem) occurs several times and almost always introduces midrashic arguments of earlier sages, the sole exception being Rabbi Shimon ben Eleazar’s transmission of four rules concerning torts in the name of Rabbi Meir.54 There is not a single attestation of “testimony”; not a single reference to “words of the scribes”; not a single attestation of “decree” or of “the words of the sages.” This, then, is a clear line of demarcation between the Rabbi Ishmael and the Rabbi Akiva midrashim.

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At the same time, it is remarkable that every one of the cited Sifra passages is attributed to a named tannaitic authority; there is not one anonymous derashah that employs mishem, or “testified,” or “decreed,” or “the words of the scribes,” or “the words of the sages.” Just as the extra-scriptural terms mark the division between the Sifra and the Mekhilta, they mark a division within the Sifra, whose anonymous stratum also does not employ such terms. The two demarcations, then, yield three positions: the two positions formed as the result of the tannaitic division between the thoroughly scripturalist Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva, whose midrash is often ancillary to extra-scriptural halakhot; and a third position, found in the anonymous Sifra, which does not acknowledge the legitimacy (or even existence) of oral-traditional legal authority, deploying a hermeneutic of camouflage to recast halakhot as though scriptural from the outset.

Chapter 7

Rabbi Akiva’s Biographical Transformation

In an essay on the impact of the stam on talmudic historiography, Adiel Schremer points to the seemingly paradoxical conclusion of some scholars: an increasingly sophisticated understanding of the Talmud results in an increased distance between the modern scholar and the talmudic rabbis—and this in two ways.1 First, the stammaitic redaction of the Talmud makes it difficult to distinguish amoraic traditions from the later editorial additions and reworkings. Second, current scholarhsip foregrounds the dominant status of the Babylonian Talmud and the influence its historiography exerts on later generations, up to and including our own. Schremer’s argument focuses on the challenges facing the study of the Amoraim, and certainly the redactional issues are less acute for tannaitic sources (though not wholly absent), which have been subject to a much lighter redactional hand than their amoraic counterparts. The second issue, the dominance of the Babylonian Talmud and perhaps a broader inability to fully disentangle earlier sources from later accretions, is very relevant to tannaitic sources, nowhere more clearly than in the study of tannaitic biography. The problematic nature of rabbinic biography is well known. Already in 1976, Judah Goldin asserted that “despite the impressive quantities of midrashic and talmudic material, there is not one sage . . . [of whom it is] possible to write a biography in the serious sense of the word,”2 a view that would be repeated two years later by William Scott Green.3 Since then, scholarship has been quite skeptical of “rabbinic biography,” distancing itself from earlier tendencies to approach rabbinic sources as archives from which historical data can be extracted, so that today it is generally acknowledged that “while we can use rabbinic

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literatures to reconstruct trends in rabbinic intellectual and cultural history, factual information about particular sages is probably out of our reach.”4 Perhaps no study demonstrates this issue more clearly than The Sinner and the Amnesiac, Alon Goshen-Gottstein’s study of the biographical traditions surrounding Elisha ben Abuya.5 Goshen-Gottstein identifies a radical break between tannaitic and post-tannaitic accounts of this figure; simply put, the paradigmatic apostate of rabbinic literature—the proverbial ʾaḥer, “other”—is not characterized as such in tannaitic sources. The Mishnah preserves a dictum in Elisha ben Abuya’s name concerning the importance of Torah study at a young age (m. ʾAvot 4.20), while an early tradition preserved in the Talmud depicts him as an authoritative sage with nary a hint of his having left the rabbinic fold (b. Moʿed Qatan 20a).6 Only in post-tannaitic sources is Elisha characterized as a heretic, and only there do we find discussions of the causes and precise nature of his heresy. Interestingly, the appellation ʾaḥer is geographically determined as well, as it is attested only in Babylonian sources.7 Alerted by Goshen-Gottstein to this break, the reader is faced with two explanatory paradigms. Either the post-tannaitic traditions surrounding Elisha ben Abuya’s apostasy are grounded in historical reality (the elusive “historical kernel”)—in which case, some account must be given of the silence of tannaitic sources regarding Elisha’s “heresy” and of their ongoing willingness to cite his teachings. Or, more radically, the later sources have invented the apostate biography for Elisha ben Abuya whole cloth. The present study argues that there is a similar break in the tannaitic and post-tannaitic traditions surrounding the life of Rabbi Akiva. The basic contours of Rabbi Akiva’s biography are well known: a young ignoramus—perhaps a shepherd encouraged by his wife, Rachel—turns to Torah scholarship relatively late in life, ultimately emerging as the greatest scholar of his generation and arguably of rabbinic Judaism. A brilliant interpreter of Scripture, Rabbi Akiva may have been involved in the Bar Kosiba revolt, and was ultimately martyred by the Romans. The story has been told countless times—there is a veritable cottage industry of Rabbi Akiva biographies—usually in reverent, hagiographic tones.8 The best-known academic biography, Louis Finkelstein’s Akiba: Scholar, Saint, and Martyr,9 is only slightly more critical, and even Shmuel Safrai, who is obviously aware of the historiographic challenges of rabbinic biography, tends to view later traditions as constructed around some historical reality.10 After emphasizing the legendary character of the Akiva-as-shepherd narrative, Safrai states that “this legend contains many historical elements—for example, that Rabbi



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Akiva did not study Torah in his youth and that he came from the lower socioeconomic stratum.”11 And further, “The biographic legends and traditions, taken as a whole—tannaitic and amoraic, Palestinian and Babylonian— clearly indicate that not only did Rabbi Akiva not study in his youth; he was removed from the world of Torah.”12 Safrai’s statement is important because it epitomizes the logic of the “historical kernel” approach and offers a pithy statement of the view against which this chapter will argue.13

Post-Tannaitic Sources Post-tannaitic writings present a broad range of views, with Palestinian sources particularly varied in their representation of Rabbi Akiva’s youth. “It happened that Rabbi Akiva prepared a ‘city of gold’ for his wife. The wife of Rabban Gamliel saw her and was jealous. She recounted this to her husband. He said to her: Would you have done for me what she did for him? For she sold the braids of her hair” (y. Shabbat 6.1, 7d; parallel at y. Soṭah 9.15, 24c). This passage is brief and lacking in detail, but Rabban Gamliel’s reference to the great sacrifice that Rabbi Akiva’s wife made when they were younger, even to the point of selling her braids, indicates that the couple was impoverished. The parallel at y. Soṭah contains an important element, as Rabban Gamliel links the couple’s poverty to Rabbi Akiva’s devotion to Torah: “Would you have done for me what she did for him? For she sold the braids of her hair and gave the proceeds to him while he labored in Torah.” This source portrays the young, still-impoverished Rabbi Akiva as laboring in Torah. Rabbi Akiva spent [ʿaśah] thirteen years.14 He entered into the presence of Rabbi Eliezer, but the latter did not recognize him. Thus was his first response to Rabbi Eliezer, that Rabbi Yehoshua said to [Rabbi Eliezer]: “Is this not the people [zeh ha-ʿam] you despised? Go out and fight him.” (Judg. 9:38; y. Pesaḥim 6.3, 33b) This story does not easily fit into the dominant post-tannaitic traditions concerning Rabbi Akiva’s life. There is no indication of poverty or of a late entry into the rabbinic sphere but only a prolonged period of apparently undistinguished study, since Rabbi Eliezer does not even recognize him, even after thirteen years as his master. Perhaps the verse that Rabbi Yehoshua cites—“Is this not the people [zeh ha-ʿam] you despised?”—is an allusion to Akiva’s

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original status as an ʿam ha-ʾaretz, the rabbinic term for ignoramus, but this is a remote possibility. Rabbi Akiva said: “The beginning of my attendance upon the sages was this. I was once on a journey when I came across a cadaver that I carried four mil until I brought it to a cemetery and buried it there. When I appeared before Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua and told them what had happened, they said to me: ‘Every step you took is reckoned against you as if you had shed blood.’ I said to them: ‘If, in a case where I intended to perform a meritorious act I have made myself liable like a wicked person, how much more will I deserve punishment when I have no meritorious intent.’ From that moment on, I did not let an opportunity pass to attend upon the sages.” He said: “Whoever does not attend upon the sages merits death.” (y. Nazir 7.1, 56a)15 This passage portrays Rabbi Akiva as ignorant of rabbinic teachings but does not suggest that he was impoverished or began to attend upon the sages at a late age, and his wife is not mentioned. The consultation with Rabbis Eliezer and Yehoshua suggests that Rabbi Akiva undertakes the arduous physical task of carrying a cadaver for four mil (over three miles), believing it to be a meritorious act. However, he is unfamiliar with rabbinic teachings (though he evidently accepts their authority), so despite his best intentions, he errs in transporting the cadaver.16 Rabbi Shimon in the name of Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi: “mem, nun, tzade, peh, kaf is halakhah le-moshe mi-sinai.” Rabbi Yermiah said in the name of Rabbi Hiyya bar Abba: “They were instituted by the ­tzofim [the seers]. It once happened on a stormy day that the sages did not attend the House of Assembly. Some children were there, and they said, ‘Come, let us study [the letters instituted by] the seers. Why are there two forms of the letters mem, nun, tzade, peh, and kaf ? It teaches [that the Torah was transmitted] from utterance [maʾamar] to utterance, from faithful [neʾeman] to faithful, from righteous [tzadik] to righteous, from mouth [peh] to mouth, and from hand [kaf ] to hand. . . .’17 The scholars noted them, and they grew to be great sages in Israel: some say that they were Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, and Rabbi Akiva. They applied to them the verse ‘Even children make themselves known by their acts’ (Prov. 20:11).” (Genesis Rabbah 10:11)18



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This passage deals with the five Hebrew letters that have different forms in the initial-medial and the terminal positions. Rabbi Shimon claims that this graphic convention can be traced back to Moses at Sinai, while Rabbi Yermiah links it with the tzofim, “seers.” A group of children in the House of Assembly then interpret the letters in question as an acrostic denoting key terms in the transmission of the Torah: the mem corresponding to maʾamar (utterance), the nun to neʾeman (faithful), and so forth. The midrashic precociousness of the children is noted by the sages, and three of them eventually grow up to be great scholars in their own right: Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua, and Rabbi Akiva. The derashah ends with a prooftext (“Even children make themselves known by their acts”) that emphasizes the possibility of discerning eventual greatness in a child.19 Here, then, we have a tradition that locates Rabbi Akiva in the house of study as a child and identifies him as a precocious student whose juvenile brilliance foreshadows his prominence as an adult. In Chapter 5, I discussed ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan’s account of Rabbi Akiva’s youth—how he started to study the alphabet with his son at the age of forty, and eventually surpassed his teachers.20 Interestingly, there is another passage within ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan that may not know the “ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan traditions,” ARNA 3: “Rabbi Akiva says: ‘Study Torah in your youth, and study Torah in your old age. Do not say, “I need not study Torah,” as you do not know that both have been sustained by you, or if both were equally good.’”21 Of course, such a statement need not be read biographically, but it is odd that the one sage identified by the rabbinic tradition as an ignoramus in his youth here praises youthful study.22 The sources cited thus far have little to say about Rabbi Akiva’s youth as an ʿam ha-ʾaretz. The tradition regarding Rabbi Akiva’s wife selling her hair suggests that, at least at some point in the course of their marriage, Rabbi Akiva and his wife were poor, but that does not mean that he was an ignoramus. To the contrary, y. Soṭah (“she sold the braids of her hair and gave the proceeds to him while he labored in Torah”) indicates that Rabbi Akiva studied Torah at this time. Elsewhere, the Palestinian Talmud (y. Pesaḥim 6.3) describes Rabbi Akiva’s undistinguished early years as a disciple of Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi ­Yehoshua, but there is no reason to think that his studies started late, and y. Nazir 7.1 similarly describes the “beginning of [Rabbi Akiva’s] attendance upon the sages” but gives no indication of his age. Genesis Rabbah locates the young Akiva in the rabbinic house of study, identifying him as a promising young scholar, and even ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, which contains one of the most detailed descriptions of Rabbi Akiva’s late entry into rabbinic culture, elsewhere

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attributes to him a statement that lauds juvenile study. Aside from the speculative interpretation of zeh ha-ʿam offered above, nothing in the Palestinian amoraic sources (it is not clear where to locate the ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan tradition) suggests an awareness that Rabbi Akiva was an ʿam ha-ʾaretz in his youth, even though two of these passages, y. Pesaḥim 6.3 and y. Nazir 7.1, describe his entry into rabbinic scholarship. It is only in the Babylonian Talmud that this view finds clear expression, as in the following: “Rabbi Akiva said: When I was an ʿam ha-ʾaretz, I said: ‘Would that a sage would pass by so that I can bite him like a donkey’” (b. Pesaḥim 49b). Unlike the Palestinian sources, the Babylonian Talmud here provides a clear assertion that Rabbi Akiva was an ʿam ha-ʾaretz as a youth, self-evident information communicated to explain the animosity he harbored toward the sages at that time.23 Another reference to Rabbi Akiva’s humble beginnings is found in the Babylonian Talmud’s account of the aftermath of Rabban ­Gamliel’s deposition and the search for a new patriarch (naśiʾ). Rabbi Akiva’s name is proposed but rejected, since “he may be punished [by the emperor] for he has no pedigree [zekhut ʾavot].” The Talmud does not discuss what precisely constitutes zekhut ʾavot, but Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah is appointed to the office because he is “rich and ten generations from Ezra,” indicating that both wealth and genealogy are involved.24 The best-known of the young Rabbi Akiva texts is the story of Rabbi Akiva and his wife in b. Ketubot and b. Nedarim: R. Akiva was Kalba Savua’s shepherd. His daughter saw he was modest and fine. She said to him: “If I become betrothed to you, will you go to the house of the master?” He said to her: “Yes.” She was betrothed to him in secret and she sent him off [to study]. Her father heard and removed her from his house and vowed she could not benefit from his properties. He went and sat twelve years in the house of study. When he returned, he brought with him 12,000 pairs of disciples. He heard an old man who said to [his wife]: “How long will he make you ‘a living widow’?” (2 Sam. 20:3). She said to him: “If he listened to me, he would sit [in the house of study] another twelve years.” He said: “I am acting with permission,” so he sat another twelve years in the house of study. When he returned, he brought with him 24,000 pairs of disciples. His wife heard, she went out, and her neighbors said: “Borrow fine garments to dress yourself.” She said: “The righteous man cares for his beast” (Prov. 12:10). When she came



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before him, she prostrated herself and kissed his feet. His servants pushed her away, but he said to them: “Leave her! Mine and yours are hers.” Her father heard a great man came to the city. He said: “I will go to him, perhaps he will annul my vow.” He came before [Rabbi Akiva,] and the latter said: “Would you have vowed thus had you known he was a great man?” He replied: “[If he had known] even one chapter, even one law [I would not have vowed thus].” He said to him: “I am he.” He prostrated himself and kissed [Rabbi Akiva’s] feet and gave him half his possessions. (b. Ketubot 62b–63a; parallel at b. ­Nedarim 50a)25 This story has been discussed at length by earlier scholars;26 for the present, we need only note the robust treatment of the two main motifs involving Rabbi Akiva’s youth: his poverty and his ignorance. Surveying the post-tannaitic sources, it is evident that they represent different and even incompatible traditions. Rabbi Akiva either was a shepherd who left his wife to study Torah in Jerusalem; or a young father who first went to study with his son at the local school at the age of forty; or perhaps he decided to dedicate himself to the service of the sages after he carried a corpse four mil, though it is unclear at what point in his life this occurred. In the Babylonian Talmud, Kalba Savua is Rabbi Akiva’s father-in-law, but ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan mentions him immediately after the Rabbi Akiva traditions, apparently unaware of any connection between the two;27 Rabbi Akiva’s wife plays an important role in some of the traditions (she supports him financially or encourages him to set off on the path of scholarship) but is absent from others. Some traditions contrast his early poverty and later wealth; in others, financial issues are passed over in silence. The cacophony of competing accounts grows louder once we introduce the traditions about Rabbi Akiva’s marriage to the wife of Tinius Rufus28 and the assertion that Rabbi Akiva studied for twenty-two years under Nahum of Gamzu,29 or thirteen under Rabbi Eliezer—neither of which suggests that he came to study late in life.

Tannaitic Sources With one possible exception (discussed below), none of the motifs concerning Rabbi Akiva’s youth—the shepherd, the late-blooming ignoramus who attends school with his son, the student whose brilliance is not recognized by

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his teachers, the cadaver-carrying disciple—is attested in tannaitic sources. In and of itself, this silence does not refute the “historical kernel” approach. Tannaitic literature is, on the whole, uninterested in biography, so the Rabbi Akiva traditions may have been known but not recorded in these collections. Perhaps it was only later, after the stature of Rabbi Akiva grew and rabbinic authors gained a new appreciation of biography, that the facts of Rabbi Akiva’s life were first recorded and then embellished. However, two tannaitic passages call this account into question.

Tosefta Ketubot 4.7 Chapter 4 of Tosefta Ketubot contains a cluster of mishnayot that deal with the financial obligations of husbands and wives to each other: under what conditions a husband must redeem his captive wife, what medical costs count as marital support, and, in mishnah 5, the assertion that “if there are years of drought,” the husband may say to his wife, “take your marriage contract and go support yourself.” This issue is addressed again in 4.7: A man may marry a woman on the condition that he not be responsible for her sustenance and financial support. Moreover, he may mandate that she be responsible for his sustenance and financial support and Torah study. An exemplary tale [maʿaśeh]: Yehoshua, the son of Rabbi Akiva, married a woman and agreed with her that she be responsible to support him and his Torah study. There were years of drought, and they began to dispute. She began to complain about him to the sages, but when he came to the courthouse, he said to them, “She is more trustworthy in my eyes than anyone.” She said to them, “Indeed, he did posit that condition.” The sages said to her: “There can be no changes after the ratification.” This passage has recently been the subject of detailed discussion by Shamma Friedman, who points out: “Most of the major themes of the Akiva exemplum [from the Bavli stories about his youth] are already present in the Yehoshua case: the study of Torah as a condition of the betrothal agreement; the bride afflicted by poverty and hardship; the tender appreciation for the wife explicitly voiced by the husband.”30 Friedman is undoubtedly right to draw attention to these points of similarity, since it is surprising to find a biographic narrative concerning



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wifely devotion to Torah study—a narrative that refers to Rabbi Akiva by name, since he is the protagonist’s father!—yet does not mention Rabbi Akiva’s devoted wife having sold her hair and accepted “living widowhood” for her husband’s Torah scholarship. Friedman concludes that the ­Yehoshua story was somehow the basis for the Rabbi Akiva legend: “The stature and fame of R. Akiva are an overwhelming force that attracts this inspiring account and draws it from son to father.”31 Surely, the Tosefta would not invoke the minor figure of Yehoshua if the Rabbi Akiva traditions preserved in the Talmud and ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan were available to anchor this ruling. Friedman, however, is concerned specifically with the tradition that assigns Rabbi Akiva’s wife a key role in his entrance into the world of rabbinic scholarship, not with the notion that Rabbi Akiva was ignorant as a youth and only entered the world of Torah scholarship late in life. Friedman cannot suggest that the entire biographical complex is post-tannaitic, because he believes there is one tannaitic source that does identify Rabbi Akiva as an ignoramus in his youth.

Sifre Deuteronomy §357 “And Moses was 120 years old” (Deut. 34:7): He was one of four who died at the age of 120, and these were Moses, Hillel the Elder, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, and Rabbi Akiva. Moses was in Egypt for forty years and in Midian for forty years, and led Israel [pirnes ʾet israʾel] for forty years. Hillel the Elder came up from Babylonia forty years old, attended upon the sages [shimmesh ḥakhamim] for forty years, and led Israel for forty years. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was a merchant [ʿasaq be-pragmaṭia] for forty years, attended upon the sages for forty years, and led Israel for forty years. Rabbi Akiva began to study Torah when he was forty,32 attended upon the sages for forty years, and led Israel for forty years. (Sifre Deuteronomy §357) This narrative lacks many of the post-tannaitic traditions discussed above— shepherd, poverty, wife’s support—but it does state that Rabbi Akiva came to the study of Torah late in life (he “began to study Torah when he was forty”), apparently vindicating the historical-kernel approach: despite their different trajectories, the various accounts of Rabbi Akiva’s youth are anchored in an early, perhaps historically accurate, biographic tradition.33 The only fly in the

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ointment is the apparently minor difficulty in Sifre Deuteronomy’s account: the chronological division of Rabbi Akiva’s life does not conform to the pattern established by his predecessors. The lives of Moses, Hillel, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai comprise three discrete forty-year periods. i. Moses: first forty years—in Egypt; second forty years—Midian; third forty years—led Israel ii. Hillel the Elder: first forty years—in Babylon; second forty years—attended upon the sages; third forty years—led Israel iii. Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai: first forty years—a merchant; second forty years—attended upon the sages; third forty years—led Israel iv. Rabbi Akiva’s life is also divided into three, but problematically so, since the Sifre states that he “began to study Torah when he was forty” [lamad torah ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] but says nothing regarding Rabbi Akiva’s first forty years. A corollary difficulty is the overdetermination of the second forty-year period of his life, during which the Sifre states that Rabbi Akiva studied Torah and attended upon the sages. This is almost certainly not a redundancy—attendance upon the sages likely refers to the study of extra-scriptural halakhot, but while the two activities are not mutually exclusive, it is curious that they appear under the same chronological rubric. The problem is literary: the Sifre assigns each of the other forty-year periods a single characteristic (an activity or a geographic location); but with Rabbi Akiva, there is nothing in the first forty-year period, and then two distinct activities in the second. The issue may appear trifling at first glance, but examination of other textual witnesses does not offer a plausible resolution. To the contrary, as the survey that follows makes clear, each contains its own difficulties when it comes to Rabbi Akiva’s youth.34 i. The editio princeps35 is corrupt: “Rabbi Akiva studied [lmd] Torah forty years and led Israel [pirnes ʾet israʾel] forty years.” This reading is patently impossible, as it accounts for only two forty-year periods in Rabbi Akiva’s life, rather than the three periods (120 years) that the derashah requires.



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ii. Another witness is found in a fragment preserved in the Cairo Genizah:36 “Rabbi Akiva had dealings with the world [ʿasaq baʿolam] forty years, he studied [lamad] Torah [forty years],37 and he taught [limmed] the students forty years.” The Genizah reading offers a tripartite division of Rabbi Akiva’s life and assigns a single activity to each period; but it is problematic in other ways. First, Rabbi Akiva spends the final forty-year period teaching, while the curricula vitae of Moses, Hillel, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai established a pattern in which the final forty-year period is spent in a position of national leadership. Moreover, it is not clear what Rabbi Akiva did in his early years. The phrase “had dealings with the world” (ʿasaq ba-ʿolam) is, to my knowledge, not attested elsewhere in rabbinic literature and is, in any case, terribly vague.38 The verb ʿasaq may be patterned after Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, who “was a merchant” (ʿasaq be-praqmaṭia), though having “dealings with the world” is not a profession. Further, the assertion that Rabbi Akiva “taught the students for forty years” is curious. The students in question are not identified, so the definite article seems out of place—who exactly are the students? And why mention them in the first place? If Rabbi Akiva is teaching Torah, it need not be said that he is teaching students. I will return to these difficulties below. iii. Finally, though not a witness of Sifre Deuteronomy, some of the ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan manuscripts contain the same tripartite fortyyear division of Rabbi Akiva’s life.39 The two manuscripts closest to the Sifre Deuteronomy describe Rabbi Akiva’s life (see Table 15). I have argued above that the assumption that bet ha-sefer is a public or specifically rabbinic educational institution reflects a late post-tannaitic reality,40 so it is not historical fidelity that is at stake here so much as textual history and narrative coherence. MS Vatican 303 is clearly wanting in this regard, as it Table 15 MS Vatican 303

MS Munich 222

Forty years old [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he went to bet ha-sefer, forty years old [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he learned everything and forty years he taught Israel.

Forty years old [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he went to bet ha-sefer and in forty years [u-ve-ʾarbaʿim shanah] learned everything and forty years he taught Israel.

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states that Rabbi Akiva went to bet ha-sefer when he was forty years old, and learned everything at forty years old; MS Munich 222 is chronologically possible but also problematic, since it, like the Genizah passage of the Sifre Deuteronomy, has Rabbi Akiva instructing Israel in his last forty years, rather than leading Israel. A small number of post-tannaitic aggadic sources refer explicitly to Rabbi Akiva’s youthful ignorance: iv. Genesis Rabbah: “Rabbi Akiva was an ignoramus [ʿaśah bur] forty years, he studied forty years, and he attended upon Israel forty years.”41 v. And Midrash ha-Gadol: “Rabbi Akiva was without Torah forty years and studied Torah forty years and taught Torah forty years.” But even these readings are not free of difficulties. The Genesis Rabbah statement that Rabbi Akiva ʿaśah bur is very odd. I translated it “was an ignoramus,” but a more faithful rendering of the stilted lexicon and syntax of the Hebrew is “did ignoramus.” Also, during his last forty years, Rabbi Akiva “attended upon Israel” (shimmesh ʾet israʾel) rather than—as with the preceding figures—“led Israel” (pirnes ʾet israʾel), an unsuccessful attempt to detach shimmesh (“attended upon”) from the phrase shimmesh ʾet ha-ḥakhamim (“attended upon the sages”), and forcibly yoke it to Israel. The first and third forty-year periods are also problematic in Midrash ha-Gadol. In the former, Rabbi Akiva ʿaśah be-loʾ torah— “was without Torah”—but literally “did [or: acted] without Torah.” The syntax is much smoother than the Genesis Rabbah reading, but haya would be the more natural formulation. And, as in the Genizah version, the Rabbi Akiva of Midrash ha-Gadol does not lead Israel but rather spends the last third of his life teaching. Stepping back to survey the manuscripts discussed thus far, we find significant variations both in the witnesses to Sifre Deuteronomy §357 (Table 16, p. 153) and to ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan (Table 17, p. 154). As these tables indicate, the direct and indirect witnesses to the Sifre Deuteronomy §357 tradition contain a series of textual and thematic incongruities concerning Rabbi Akiva’s curriculum vitae, with nary a single unproblematic attestation of his youthful ignorance. The absence of such a statement is striking for several reasons. First, Sifre Deuteronomy §357 establishes a clear paradigm: forty years of X, forty years of Y, and forty years leading Israel. This pattern should determine the biographic elements of Rabbi Akiva’s life so thoroughly as to make some of the textual corruptions prima



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Table 16 Source

First Forty Years

Finkelstein Edition

Second Forty Years Third Forty Years

Difficulties

Led Israel Attended upon the sages and Learned Torah at forty [lammad torah ben ʾarbaʿim shanah]

a. Torah study and attendance upon sages overlap b. No activity first forty years

Genizah (MS Holon 242 ‫)ה‬

Had dealings Studied Torah with the world [ʿasaq ba-ʿolam]

Taught the students

Editio Princeps

Either: Studied Torah [if lamad, then second forty-year period empty]

Genesis Rabbah

“was an [lit., Studied [Torah] ‘did’] ignoramus” [ʿaśah bur]

Attended upon Israel

a. Phrase ʿaśah bur awkward b. Does not lead Israel

Midrash ha-Gadol

“was [lit., ‘did’] without Torah” [ʿaśah be-loʾ torah]

Taught Torah

a. Phrase ʿaśah be-loʾ torah awkward b. Does not lead Israel

Or: Taught Torah Led Israel [if limmed, then first forty-year period empty]

Studied Torah

a. Phrase “dealings with the world” unclear b. Does not lead Israel c. Who are “the students”? a. Only two forty-year periods accounted for b. Pre-leadership activity unclear

facie unlikely (for example, providing only two forty-year periods). Second, the manuscripts exhibit no textual or thematic difficulties when it comes to Moses, Hillel the Elder, or Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai—only with Rabbi Akiva does everything fall apart. These textual difficulties, then, are particular to Rabbi Akiva’s biography and not the result of more general corruptions in the transmission

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Table 17 Source

First Forty Years

Second Forty Third Forty Difficulties Years Years

MS Vatican Forty years old 303 [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he learned everything [appears second on the list]

Went to bet Taught ha-sefer [ap- Israel pears first on the list]

a. Went to bet hasefer at forty but learned ­everything at forty as well b. No activity first forty years c. Anachronistic bet ha-sefer

MS Munich 222

Went to bet ha-sefer and learned everything

a. No activity first forty years b. Anachronistic bet ha-sefer

Taught Israel

history. Finally, we are dealing with a derashah that thematizes dramatic shifts that occurred in the lives of its biblical and rabbinic protagonists. For Moses and Hillel, the shift is geographic—Moses moving from Egypt to Midian, Hillel from Babylonia to Palestine, while Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai grows up in a non-Torah environment and, at a relatively late age, commits to Torah study. The stage is set for an account of Rabbi Akiva’s transformation from ʿam haʾaretz to sage, and from sage to national leader, yet none of the textual witnesses do so in an unproblematic way. At this point, I want to introduce an additional witness of Sifre Deuteronomy, MS London, which may contain the reading that served as the basis for some of these later emendations.42 “‘And Moses was 120 years old’ (Deut. 34:7): He was one of four who died at the age of 120. . . . Moses was in Egypt. . . . Hillel the Elder came up from Babylonia forty years old. . . . Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai was a merchant. . . . Rabbi Akiva studied Torah forty years and attended upon the sages forty years and led Israel for forty years.” MS London’s account of the first three figures is identical to that of the other witnesses, but it paints a very different picture of Rabbi Akiva, who “studied Torah forty years and attended upon the sages forty years and led Israel for forty years” (lamad torah ʾarbaʿim shanah ve-shimmesh ḥakhamim ʾarbaʿim shanah ufirnes ʾet israʾel ʾarbaʿim shanah). The reading is remarkable first and foremost for its smoothness—Rabbi Akiva’s life conforms perfectly to the pattern established by the other three figures: three forty-year periods, each involving a discrete activity, culminating in a position of national leadership.43 However, the



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smoothness of MS London is highly suspect philologically and, under most circumstances, would be understood as an attempt to smooth over the incongruous-cum-untenable readings of the other witnesses. In the case before us, however, there is reason to believe that, its narrative coherence notwithstanding, MS London is the lectio dificilior and to be preferred. To wit, the relevant difficultas is not textual but cultural, the result of the increased authority of the traditions that characterize the young Rabbi Akiva as an ʿam ha-ʾaretz. Once these traditions—now backed by the authority of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan and, decisively, of the Babylonian Talmud—became widely disseminated, it is to be expected that scribes would “emend” any account of Rabbi Akiva’s life that located him in a house of study as a youth.44 In saying this, I do not attribute anything untoward to the later hands: scribes familiar with the post-tannaitic Rabbi Akiva traditions would naturally have assumed that earlier copyists erred in stating that Rabbi Akiva studied Torah in his youth and would have responded by correcting the text, the resulting readings representing bona fide attempts to improve an untenable reading. Many corruptions in the extant manuscripts can be economically explained as emendations to the MS London version, intended to counter its assertion that Rabbi Akiva’s first forty years were spent in study. The two clearest examples are Finkelstein’s edition and the editio princeps. The former overcomes this difficulty quite elegantly, adding the word ben to the first forty-year period, so that rabbi ‘akiva lamad torah ʾarbaʿim shanah (“Rabbi Akiva studied Torah forty years”) becomes rabbi akiva lamad torah ben ʾarbaʿim shanah (“Rabbi Akiva studied Torah forty years old”).45 The resulting reading effectively distances the young Akiva from Torah study, though, as noted above, it leaves the first forty-year period blank and overdetermines the second forty-year period. The editio princeps, which is related to MS London but contains numerous reworkings that reflect the influence of the Babylonian Talmud,46 simply omits Rabbi Akiva’s attendance upon the sages, leaving only two forty-year periods (“Rabbi Akiva studied [lmd] Torah forty years and led Israel forty years”). The Genizah reading (“Rabbi Akiva had dealings with the world forty years, studied Torah [forty years], and he taught the students forty years”) is further removed from the other witnesses and its genesis more obscure. The second and third forty-year periods may be a response to the ambiguity inherent in the assertion that Rabbi Akiva lmd torah, which can be read either as lamad torah (“studied Torah”) or limmed torah (“taught Torah”), and the unwieldy limmed ʾet ha-talmidim (“taught the students”) an attempt to disambiguate the

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root lmd by providing an indirect object (“the students”) and so mark the second period as a time of instruction.47 The result provides for eighty of the 120 years, and since the study of Torah must begin when Rabbi Akiva is forty years old, the Genizah has Rabbi Akiva “dealing with the world” during his first forty years. Rabbi Akiva’s biography is thus harmonized with the traditions of the Bavli and ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, but at a price: unlike Moses, Hillel, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, Rabbi Akiva does not attain a position of leadership, and the phrase ʿasaq ba-ʿolam is unclear. A clue to the meaning of this phrase may be discerned if we juxtapose it with the readings of Genesis Rabbah and Midrash ha-Gadol. The three sources characterize Rabbi Akiva’s first forty years as, respectively, ʿasaq ba-ʿolam (“had dealings with the world”), ʿaśah bur (“did ignoramus”), and ʿaśah be-loʾ torah (“did without Torah”). Having already pointed out the difficulties that attend each of these phrases, I now note the phonetic and graphic similarity of ʿasaq and ʿaśah.48 These readings may stem from the (universally attested) assertion of Sifre Deuteronomy §357 that Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai ʿasaq be-praqmaṭia, “was a merchant” (more lit., “dealt in trade”) or from the language of y. Pesaḥim 6.3, which states that Rabbi Akiva ʿaśah yod gimmel shanah, “spent [lit., ‘did’] thirteen years” in the bet midrash of Rabbi Eliezer. Whatever its origin, the syntactically tortured and semantically obscure ʿaśah/ʿasaq phrases likely reflect the later editors’ pressing desire to replace the “biographically” problematic statement that Rabbi Akiva was a young Torah student.49

Conclusion Philologically, the present chapter offers two mutually interrelated arguments: first, that there is no indication that tannaitic sources knew of Rabbi Akiva’s youthful ignorance—even t. Ketubot 4.7, a source that practically invites mention of Rabbi Akiva’s youth as a backdrop to his wife’s later support, does not do so. And second, the stronger, positive claim: that the best reading of the Sifre Deuteronomy (preserved in MS London) locates the young Rabbi Akiva squarely and unapologetically in the house of study: “Rabbi Akiva studied Torah forty years and attended upon the sages forty years and led Israel for forty years.” Looking to the question of rabbinic biography, we find that the account of Rabbi Akiva’s life follows the pattern that Alon Goshen-Gottstein uncovered in the representation of Elisha ben Abuya—the post-tannaitic sources effect a sharp break with the tannaitic,



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presenting a rich and fully wrought portrait of a sage that has little or no basis in the earlier strata of rabbinic literature.50 Taken together, these sources paint a picture that, while at odds with the traditional (read: Babylonian Talmud’s) portrait of Rabbi Akiva, is of a piece with the increasingly skeptical assessments of the historical value of the Babylonian Talmud offered, inter alia, by Isaiah Gafni and Adiel Schremer.51 In terms of the representation of Rabbi Akiva, it is interesting to note that the transformation outlined in the previous chapters of “Rabbi Akiva the interpreter” is accompanied by a corresponding biographical transformation. Why this might be the case will be addressed in the book’s Conclusion.

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Pa rt I I I

Midrash and Halakhot: A Reevaluation

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Chapter 8

The Anomaly of Tannaitic Literature: Interpretation, Revelation, and Mysteries

Rabbi Nehemiah says: “After all, for what purpose does Scripture come, to open or to lock? Behold, it comes not to lock but to open.”1 Moses wrote many things in the Torah without explaining them.2

Part II of the present study surveyed two shifts in the characterization of Rabbi Akiva’s midrash: from a relatively sober midrashist in the Mishnah and named Sifra passages, to an oracular reader able to uncover the mysteries of the Torah; and from an interpreter lauded for his ability to provide scriptural support for extra-scriptural halakhot, to one who appears not to know of such traditions. In the present and following chapter, I argue that these transformations represent broader trends in rabbinic literature. This chapter deals with the relationship between exegesis and revelation; Chapter 9 deals with the respective roles of Scripture and extra-scriptural traditions.

Charismatic Exegesis David Aune defines charismatic exegesis as a practice rooted in the notion that “the sacred text contains hidden or symbolic meanings which can only be revealed by an interpreter gifted with divine insight,” thereby introducing two interconnected ideas:3 the obscure or mysterious nature of Scripture and

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the privileged spiritual status of the interpreter.4 Whereas classical prophecy consists of God conveying a message directly to an individual or, less commonly, a collective, charismatic exegesis consists of two moments: the revelation of a sacred but inscrutable message; and the revelation of its meaning. In a sense, the notion of biblical obscurity requires that God’s word be simultaneously present and absent: present because it has been made known; and absent because its true meaning has not. The notion that God speaks in inherently obscure speech is largely foreign to the Pentateuch. God’s communication is generally straightforward, though there are a few exceptions, such as God’s mysterious communication with Pharaoh through the dreams of the seven fat and seven skinny cows (Genesis 41),5 Joseph’s dreams about his future lordship over his brothers (Genesis 37), and the following characterization of Moses’ unique status: “When there are prophets among you, I the Lord make myself known to them in visions; I speak to them in dreams. Not so with my servant Moses; he is entrusted with all my house. With him, I speak face-to-face—clearly, not in riddles; and he beholds the form of the Lord” (Num. 12:6–8). Still, these passages are vastly outnumbered by the many hundreds of instances in which God communicates with Moses and other individuals in a clear and unambiguous manner. While some scholars have claimed to find references to the obscurity of God’s speech in the riddles and dark sayings of the hagiographa, these are not of divine origin. The two most frequently cited verses are Proverbs 1:5–6 (“Let the wise also hear and gain in learning, and the discerning acquire skill, to understand a proverb and a figure”), which is concerned with “the words of the wise,” not divine revelation; and Psalm 78:2 (“I will open my mouth in a parable, I will utter dark sayings from of old”), which refers to human words, as the second stich makes clear: “things that we have heard and known, that our ancestors have told us.”6 Veiled or symbolic divine speech is found mostly in the prophetic tradition.7 An early harbinger is Jeremiah’s vision of the almond branch: “The word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘Jeremiah, what do you see?’ And I said, ‘I see a branch of an almond tree [maqel shaqed].’ Then the Lord said to me, ‘You have seen well, for I am watching [shoqed] over my word to perform it’” (Jer. 1:12). Though communicated in quick succession, God’s word is communicated in two stages: first, the vision; and then, its interpretation.8 In later sources, both biblical and apocryphal, the distance between revelation and interpretation is often much greater—whether because more time elapses between the revelatory stages or because each is the work of a different



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agent. The gap between initial revelation and the revelation of true meaning is thematized in the figure of the angelus interpres, whose raison d’être is to bridge the gap between God’s obscure word and the uncomprehending human prophet. Thus, in the Book of Zechariah, which dates from the early Persian period, a series of visions are communicated to the prophet and then interpreted by an angel: “And I looked up and saw four horns. I asked the angel who talked with me, ‘What are these?’ And he answered me, ‘These are the horns that have scattered Judah, Israel, and Jerusalem’” (Zech. 1:18–19). This question-and-­ answer pattern repeats as the angel interprets for Zechariah the meaning of the vision of the lamp stand and olive trees (Zech. 4:4–8), the woman sitting in a basket (Zech. 5:5–7), the four chariots (Zech. 6:4–6), and the complex vision of a man riding on a red horse (Zech. 1:9–14). Though there are significant differences between these passages, it suffices for the present purposes that God’s revelation in each requires elucidation that is provided by another divine being.9 The obscurity of the visions is not due to extrinsic—and, thus, theoretically superable—factors such as the impaired state of the prophet, external interference, and the like. God’s communication with humanity is, by its very nature, mysterious and made known only to a select group or individual. A much longer temporal gap between the two moments of revelation exists in the Book of Daniel, where the same Traumdeutung technique used to solve Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (Daniel 2) is applied to an earlier prophet’s revelation.10 In Jeremiah 25, God informs the prophet of Israel’s coming destruction at the hand of Babylon as “these nations shall serve the king of Babylon seventy years” (Jer. 25:11), but the tables will eventually turn, and the instrument of God’s wrath will become its object: “Then, after seventy years are completed, I will punish the king of Babylon and that nation, the land of the Chaldeans, for their iniquity” (Jer. 25:12). Daniel, who is reading Jeremiah’s prophecies, “perceived in the books the number of years that, according to the word of the Lord to the prophet Jeremiah, must be fulfilled for the devastation of Jerusalem, namely, seventy years” (Dan. 9:2). Daniel immediately turns to God in supplication, asking to be shown the meaning of Jeremiah’s vision—an interesting shift, since Jeremiah himself appears to consider his prophecy quite lucid. After much fasting and prayer, Daniel is granted an angelic visitation: “[T]he man Gabriel . . . said to me, ‘Daniel, I have now come out to give you wisdom and understanding . . . so consider the word and understand the vision: Seventy weeks are decreed for your people and your holy city’” (Dan. 9:21–24). Here, as John Collins notes, “Revelation is not given directly, but is mediated.”11 Indeed, twice-mediated: the angel

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mediates between God and Daniel, and the written account of Jeremiah’s vision mediates Daniel’s prophecy. This catena of revelation and deferred interpretation continues as Daniel’s own vision is explicated by 4 Ezra: “He said to me: ‘This is the interpretation of this vision that you have seen: The eagle which you saw coming up from the sea is the fourth kingdom that appeared in a vision to your brother Daniel. But it was not explained to him as I now explain it to you. Behold, the days are coming when a kingdom shall arise on earth’” (4 Ezra 12:10–13).12 Why does Daniel think that God spoke obscurely with Jeremiah and that the full meaning of the prophecy was not revealed? Why was Daniel’s vision, in turn, explained to Ezra? The underlying need for such mediation is never, to my knowledge, addressed; but clearly, God’s communication has come to be understood as inherently mysterious. Both the Book of Daniel and 4 Ezra refer to the elevated status of their respective protagonists, in keeping with the second aspect of Aune’s definition, that the meaning of God’s word “be revealed by an interpreter gifted with divine insight.”13 When Gabriel appears before Daniel to reveal to him the meaning of Jeremiah’s vision, he tells the prophet that he has “come to declare it, for you are greatly beloved” (Dan. 9:22–23). And after one of the visions is explained to Ezra, he is told: “This is the dream that you saw, and this is its interpretation. And you alone were worthy to learn this secret of the Most High” (4 Ezra 12:35–36). The human recipient is God’s elect, who, by virtue of his election, is able to receive divine visions and their meaning.

The Dead Sea Scrolls The notion that biblical interpretation is, au fond, a revelatory act that lays bare scriptural mysteries is pervasive in Second Temple as well as post-70 sources, and nowhere more than the Qumran community, whose self-definition is couched in terms of access to divine secrets.14 The adversaries of the group “are not included in this covenant since they have neither sought nor examined his decrees in order to know the hidden matters in which they err by their own fault” (1QS 5:10–13), “but with those who remained steadfast in God’s precepts, with those who were left from among them, God established his covenant with Israel forever, revealing to them hidden matters in which all Israel had gone astray” (CD 3:12–14).15 As for the notion that there are divine secrets hidden within the Torah that can be extracted only by a spiritually gifted interpreter, we find in Pesher Habakkuk: “‘So that may run the one who reads it’ (Hab. 2:2).



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Its interpretation concerns the Teacher of Righteousness, to whom God has made known all the mysteries of the words of his servants the prophets” (1QpHab 7.3–5). Habakkuk, the prophet, is the recipient and transmitter of God’s word, but another will be “the one who reads it.” As Bilhah Nitzan notes: “This pesher suggests that the authors of the pesharim considered the prophecies recorded in Scripture to be divine communications that contain mysterious secrets concerning their realization in ‘the final generation.’ But their interpretation as pertaining to these distant events was not given to the prophets at that time, but rather will be revealed to the reader selected for this task by God in the final generation, with their realization imminent.”16 So great is the importance of the later interpreter, that his appearance counts as a revelatory moment in its own right.17 According to the Damascus Document, the advent of the interpreter is prophesied in the Torah itself: “And the star is the Interpreter of the Law, who will come to Damascus, as it is written (Num. 24:13), ‘A star moves out of Jacob, and a scepter arises out of Israel’” (CD 7.18).

Philo For all the difference between the worldviews of the Qumran sectarians and the Alexandrian Platonist, they share the view of Scripture as an obscure text pregnant with mystery—the Torah as divine oracle18—whose deeper meaning (Philo’s hyponoia) can be recovered only by a gifted reader. After arguing that Cain cannot be speaking plainly when he claims that every person who finds out his crime will slay him, and that God cannot be speaking plainly in the statement “whoever kills Cain will suffer a sevenfold vengeance” (for what is sevenfold of death?), Philo states: “Therefore, one must suppose that all these things are said figuratively and allegorically.”19 This approach is not limited to biblical narrative but encompasses ritual, as we see from his explanation of why the whole burnt offering is appropriate for God: “These are the contents of the ordinance taken literally. But another meaning is also indicated of the mystical character that symbols convey; words in their plain sense are symbols of things latent and obscure.”20 The visible, the meaning available to the masses, contains information reserved for an elect reader such as Philo: “So behold me daring, not only to read the sacred messages of Moses, but also in my love of knowledge to peer into each of them and unfold and reveal what is not known to the multitude.”21

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That Philo is able to do so is due to the divine inspiration that guides his interpretation of Scripture, the “voice in my own soul, which oftentimes is god-possessed and divines where it does not know.”22 In his essay on dreams, Philo writes of how, when he is unable to recognize the full meaning of a biblical passage, the voice intervenes: “I hear once more the voice of the invisible spirit, the familiar secret tenant, saying, ‘Friend, it would seem that there is a matter great and precious of which thou knowest nothing, and this I will ungrudgingly shew thee.’”23 The most explicit description of divine inspiration is found in De Migratione, where Philo’s writing process is characterized in terms of a religious frenzy: “On other occasions, I have approached my work empty and suddenly become full, the ideas falling in a shower from above and being sown invisibly, so that under the influence of the Divine possession I have been filled with corybantic frenzy and been unconscious of anything, place, persons present, myself, words spoke, lines written.”24 Here, too, then, we find a clear enunciation of the two elements of charismatic exegesis: Scripture understood as a mystery and an inspired reader able to retrieve its hidden meaning.25

Paul and Several of the Church Fathers Even a cursory glance indicates that notions of scriptural mystery and charismatic exegesis feature prominently in the writings of Paul and many of the apostolic and church fathers.26 Like Philo before him, Paul refers to the Hebrew Bible as “the oracles of God” (Rom. 3:2) and frequently refers to the mysterious nature of God’s word (for example, 1 Cor. 2:1), twice announcing particular mystery doctrines, both accompanied by biblical prooftexts: “Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. . . . Then will come about the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’;27 ‘O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’”28 (1 Cor. 15:51–55). And: “For I do not want you, brethren, to be uninformed of this mystery . . . that a partial hardening has happened to Israel until the fullness of Gentiles has come in; and thus all Israel will be saved. Just as it is written: ‘The deliverer will come from Zion; he will remove ungodliness from Jacob. And this is my covenant with them’29 ‘when I take away their sins’ ”30 (Rom. 11:25–27).



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The biblical verses in question, though communicated by God long ago, presumably lay fallow until the advent of Christ illuminated the mystery ­contained within them. These passages, however, are atypical, and, as Aune has shown, Paul does not generally characterize himself as a charismatic interpreter.31 More robust charismatic characterizations are found among several apostolic and church fathers, with Scripture’s status as a mysterious communication serving as a cornerstone of the theological and hermeneutic teachings of Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, and Origen. Justin Martyr, in his Dialogue with Trypho, repeatedly speaks of the Torah as containing a hidden message, namely, the advent of Christ. Thus, after the narrator and Trypho agree that the true path to understanding God’s message is by searching Scripture (or “prophecy”), the narrator says to his Jewish interlocutor: “Perhaps, my friends, you do not realize that many of the sayings which were expressed mysteriously in metaphorical or obscure language or were hinted at by symbolic actions were later expounded by the prophets who lived after those who had uttered or done them,”32 for “the Holy Spirit often speaks in parables and similitudes.”33 From here arises the need for a graced interpreter: “If, therefore, one were not endowed by God’s great grace to understand the words and deeds of the prophets, it would be quite useless for him to relate their words and actions when he can give no explanation of them.”34 Both Clement of Alexandria and Origen make similar assertions about the obscurity of Scripture. Clement enumerates the reasons for its veiled meaning (“that we may become inquisitive [and] it is not suitable for all to understand”), that is, why God’s word was “preserved for chosen men, selected to knowledge in consequence of their faith.”35 And Origen writes, in his Commentary to Psalms 1–25: The divine discourses say that the divine Scriptures are locked and sealed by the key of David . . . for it is unanimously agreed by all who even moderately understand the divine discourses that they are filled with riddles, parables, dark sayings, and various other forms of obscurity hard for human nature to comprehend. . . . [W]e shall disclose a very beautiful tradition handed on to us by the Hebrew which applies generally to the entire divine Scripture. For the Hebrew said that the whole divinely inspired Scripture may be likened, because of its obscurity, to many locked rooms in one house. By each room is placed a key, but not the one that corresponds to it.36

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It is the task of the interpreter to match each key to the appropriate room and thereby open the door to correct understanding, a point Karen Jo Torjesen has emphasized in her study of the interpreter in the Alexandrian tradition.37 So revelatory is the role of the interpreter that, according to Gregory Thaumaturgos, the third-century bishop and disciple of Origen, “[t]here is no greater gift than to be an interpreter of the divine oracles for all of humanity, for to be an interpreter is to be spoken to by God just as the prophets were spoken to by God.”38 Or, as Origen more plainly states, whoever grasps the hidden meaning of Scripture “has in himself the soul and spirit of the prophet.”39

Tannaitic Literature This admittedly brief and incomplete survey of Second Temple and post-70 sources is offered merely as a foil to tannaitic writings, to which the notion of inherently mysterious Scripture is fundamentally foreign. As I have shown in detail in Scripture as Logos, the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim emphasize Scripture’s own agency in the interpretive process and establish a sophisticated theoretical apparatus by which Scripture is represented as providing guidance for its own interpretation. Thus, Scripture provides the reader with general hermeneutic rules (“Scripture comes to teach you that a general statement that is added to a specific statement includes everything”)40 and establishes interpretive precedent that the reader is expected to follow (“Since . . . Scripture specifies for you with regard to one . . . so, too, I specify with regard to all”).41 For the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, then, the Bible is anything but an inherently mysterious text: it is committed to, and actively participates in, its self-explication, providing the textual clues and the hermeneutic guidance necessary for the reader to arrive at a correct interpretation. Consequently, there is no need for these texts to posit a gifted interpreter; and, not coincidentally, Rabbi Ishmael is nowhere lauded for his acuity or his revelatory interpretations. Rabbi Akiva’s midrashic approach, though not as systematic as Rabbi Ishmael’s, also does not assume that Scripture is inherently obscure or mysterious. As I showed in Chapter 6, Rabbi Akiva consistently identifies marked elements in the verse as the basis for insightful (though at times fanciful) scriptural connections, and his interpretation is more rule-governed than is generally assumed. Now, Rabbi Akiva is a prima facie stronger candidate for charismatic interpreter, as several tannaitic sources laud him for his wondrous interpretations. However, as already demonstrated, he is praised for



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providing a scriptural anchor for known halakhot, not for revealing heretofore unknown secrets. Indeed, to “explicate and agree with the oral tradition” is praiseworthy because, jurisprudentially, it reveals nothing new.

Deuteronomy 29:28 It is difficult to demonstrate conclusively the absence of a view or practice— in this case, the idea that Scripture is a repository of mysteries—but the tannaitic interpretation of Deuteronomy 29:28 comes close to doing so. The verse reads: “The secret things belong to the Lord our God and the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law.” However, a venerable interpretive tradition, based on the interlinear dots that appear over some of the letters, reads the verse as “the secret things and the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever.” This new reading stakes out the opposite position from the original verse, effectively effacing the gap between divine and mortal and locating “the secret things” squarely in the human realm. As Aharon Shemesh and Cana Werman note in their article, two tannaitic sources respond to this verse, the Sifre Numbers: “He said to them: you performed the revealed [things], so, too, I will make known to you the secret [things]” (Sifre Numbers §69, Kahana 1.167–168).42 And the Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael: [W]hen they all stood before Mount Sinai to receive the Torah, they all made up their minds alike to accept the reign of God joyfully. Furthermore, they pledged themselves for one another. And it was not only concerning revealed acts that God, revealing Himself to them, wished to make His covenant with them, but also concerning secret acts, as it is said: “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, etc.” (Deut. 29:28). But they said to Him: “Concerning revealed acts we are ready to make a covenant with You, but we will not make a covenant with You in regard to secret acts lest one of us commit a sin in secret and the entire community be held responsible for it.” (Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael Baḥodesh 5, Horovitz, 219; Lauterbach 2:230–231) As Shemesh and Werman point out, the Sifre Numbers links the revealed things to the actions of Israel—“you performed the revealed things”—implying that

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the secret things included in this category are commandments that God has not yet revealed to Israel, though He will do so in the future.43 Like the sources surveyed above, the Sifre’s interpretation involves a future moment of revelation, but the mystery aspect has been effectively effaced. The future revelation will not shed light on an inscrutable statement or provide access to esoteric knowledge, for there is nothing inherently mysterious about these “hidden things,” except insofar as they have not yet been made known to the entirety of Israel; once God does so, the information will be freely available to and incumbent upon every Israelite. The avoidance of mystery theology is more pronounced in the Mekhilta, which, in an audacious bit of anti-esoteric midrash, interprets “the revealed things” and “the secret things” as, respectively, commandments performed publicly (and consequently known to the community) and those performed— or transgressed—privately (and consequently unknown). Here, there is no future revelation, and the “secret” is not even epistemic: both the revealed and the secret things are commandments known to all, differing only in that the former are subject to public scrutiny and the latter are not. Apparently, even when the Torah explicitly speaks of “secret things,” for all intents and purposes inviting a mystery reading, the tannaim demur.44

Scriptural Esotericism But surely, one might object, the above conclusion is a gross oversimplification that ignores the loci classici of tannaitic esotericism. What of m. Ḥagigah? “Forbidden sexual relations may not be expounded before three people, nor ‘The Account of Creation’ [maʿaśeh bereshit] before two, nor ‘The Account of Chariot’ [maʿaśeh merkavah] before one, unless he is a sage who understands by his own knowledge. Whoever speculates about four things, it would have been better for him if he had not come into this world: what is above, what is below, what was before, and what will be afterward” (m. Ḥagigah 2.1). This passage typically functions as Exhibit A for tannaitic esotericism. Christopher Rowland’s view is representative: “We have argued that apocalyptic is concerned with ‘what is above, what is below, what has been beforehand and what is to come’ (m. Ḥagigah 2.1). All these issues were of some importance to rabbis of the first and second centuries. . . . The quest for knowledge of secret matters was something which a rabbi came up against in his study of the Scriptures. . . . [I]f we use the term mysticism in the sense of



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concern with hidden truths, then there is evidence from rabbinic literature to show that there was indeed considerable interest in such matter from a very early period.”45 But in truth, the Mishnah offers very limited support for this view. Indeed, the second half of m. Ḥagigah 2.1 prohibits speculation concerning “what is above, what is below, what was before, and what will be afterward,” a position that amounts to “the reversal of everything that occupies the Merkavah tradition.”46 And while not an outright prohibition, the first part of this mishnah is also a poor witness to the existence of scriptural mysteries in tannaitic sources. The first stich (“forbidden sexual relations may not be expounded before three people”) is not concerned with mystical secrets but rather with social propriety,47 and the second and third are not as clear as they at first appear. For one thing, the Mishnah elsewhere offers a much less restrictive view of “The Account of Chariot,” according to which the passage “is recited but not translated” (m. Megillah 4.10), while the Tosefta adopts an altogether sanguine position: “And ‘The Account of Chariot’? One should read this to many” (t. Megillah 4.34). As for “The Account of Creation,” the regnant view that this phrase denotes a mystical interpretation of the Genesis cosmogony has recently been rebutted by Yair Furstenberg.48 As Furstenberg shows, in the original prohibition maʿaśeh bereshit referred to all six days of creation, but later amoraic sources revised the term, limiting it to the initial stage of the creation process. Furthermore, the original ban was aimed at criticism of God’s handiwork, not the dissemination of esoteric mystical doctrines: “You shall be blameless” (Deut. 18:13): Rabbi Eleazar Hakappar says: “You should not think ill of God’s ways, as it is written: ‘For ask now about former ages’ (Deut. 4:32)—does this apply to the time that precedes maʿaśeh bereshit? Scripture teaches, saying ‘ever since the day that God created human beings on the earth; ask from one end of the heavens to another.’” (Deut. 4:32; Midrash Tannaim to Deut. 18:13, Hoffmann 110–11) The derashah brings to the fore two important points. First, the creation of man marks the end of maʿaśeh bereshit, so the prohibition to discuss “The Account of Creation” applies to the entire cosmogenic narrative. Second, and more important, the exclusion of the time preceding man’s creation from Deuteronomy’s instruction to “ask now about former ages” is anchored in Deuteronomy 18:13’s instruction to “be blameless,” which is glossed as not thinking

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“ill of God’s ways.” As Furstenberg goes on to show, concern lest the creation narrative be (ab)used to criticize God’s work is attested in several derashot, and it is this concern that animates the maʿaśeh bereshit prohibition, not the desire to maintain esoteric doctrine. It is, then, a distinct possibility that—pace its later reception—m. Ḥagigah 2.1 is not concerned with mystical speculation at all. But even if it is, restricting the prohibitions to the first chapters of Genesis and Ezekiel indicates that the rest of the Bible is not inherently hidden or mysterious. In other words, if mishnah Ḥagigah counts as evidence for a mystery-based esotericism, it is esotericism of a radically delimited scope. The Torah as such is not a mysterious or esoteric text; at most, it contains a few chapters unfit for public exposition. As Moshe Halbertal has argued: “The secret whose dissemination is prohibited by the Mishnah is not located in the hidden exegetical level of the biblical text as a whole, but in certain specified chapters. . . . [T]he Bible has no esoteric meaning which must be restricted to those with occult wisdom; rather, Scripture possesses certain passages which may not be expounded, even before a limited audience.”49

Cognate Phenomena The tannaitic ambivalence toward the view that the Torah is a repository of mysteries and the correlative absence of an ideal charismatic interpreter are part of a general tannaitic reticence toward related claims of mysterious knowledge and charismatic authority.

Dream Interpretation Saul Lieberman famously compared the interpretive methods that the rabbis applied to aggadah with those employed in the interpretation of dreams and oracles.50 But while this may be true of certain strata of rabbinic literature, it is striking that of the two tannaitic references to dream interpretation, one is overtly hostile to the practice and one is ambivalent—at best: “A man was troubled, wondering where his father’s second tithe was located. A dream interpreter51 came and said to him: ‘[The coins] are such and such an amount and are located in such and such a place.’ And it was, in fact, thus, and they went and found the coins there. But they came and asked the sages, and they said: ‘These



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are unsanctified [ḥullin], since dreams are moot’” (t. Maʿaśer Sheni 5.9; Lieberman, Zeraʿim, 270). Though the dream interpreter has successfully guided the man to the coins that his deceased father had set aside for the maʿaśer sheni (the rabbinic tithe offered on the first, second, fourth, and sixth years of the sabbatical cycle), the sages declare them profane because the dream interpreter’s claim is not admissible. The second tannaitic source is from the Sifre Numbers: Rabbi Eleazar52 Hakappar says: i. Whence do you say that [the Holy One, blessed be He] showed Jacob our forefather the completed Temple, with sacrifices being offered and priests officiating, and the divine presence rising up/departing [mistaleqet]? As it is written, And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, etc.” (Gen. 28:12) ii. There is no dream that does not have an interpretation. iii. “And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth”—this refers to the Temple; “the top of it reaching to heaven”—these are the sacrifices being offered, whose scent rises up to the heavens; “and the angels of God [were ascending and descending on it]”—these are the ministering priests who ascend and descend on the steps [of the altar]; “And the Lord stood beside him” (Gen. 28:13)—“I saw the Lord standing beside the altar.” (Amos 9:1; Sifre Numbers §119, Kahana 1. ‫)לא‬ There is a clear thematic continuity between clause (i) and (iii), the latter a detailed explication of Rabbi Eleazar Hakappar’s assertion that Genesis 28:13 refers to the Temple. The statement “there is no dream that does not have an interpretation,” in contrast, has no direct bearing on either Rabbi Eleazar Hakappar’s claim or on the detailed glosses that follow, and it may be a late interpolation.53 But even if the statement is original, its force is muted—a generic assertion that dreams require interpretation, rather than a strong endorsement.54 If we exclude Sifre Numbers §119 on redactional grounds, the tannaitic position toward dream interpretation is categorically negative; if we include it, the negative assessment of the Tosefta passage is tempered, but only slightly, by the neutral assertion that all dreams have an interpretation.55 This meager and overall negative assessment of dream interpretation on the part of the tannaim stands in sharp contrast to the role of dreams and dream interpretation in later rabbinic sources—especially Babylonian. As Yuval Harari

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states, basing himself primarily on Babylonian sources: “There is considerable evidence for the notion that a dream is a true message originating in a metaphysical reality.”56 Though rabbinic dream interpretation is well studied,57 it seems that the striking shift between tannaitic and post-tannaitic sources has not received sufficient attention in recent scholarship, with Julia Zellentin’s unpublished work the exception that proves the rule.58 I emphasize “recent,” since Alexander Kristianpoller, one of earliest scholars to examine rabbinic dreams, stated the matter in no uncertain terms: “As far as Talmudic literature is concerned, one can distinguish two periods. The older is marked by the insistent dictum ‘dreams are moot’ . . . [but] the later we proceed in time, the more abundant are the sayings concerning the significance of dreams and the more we are faced with the belief in the power of dreams.”59

Bat Qol A similar tannaitic decline and Babylonian resurgence are evident with regard to the bat qol.60 Tosefta Soṭah famously speaks of the closure of a divine communication upon the death of the latter prophets, and while it allows that “they would make things heard to them through the bat qol,”61 that situation, too, refers to a past time because in the very next passage, the bat qol itself announces that this option, too, has been foreclosed: “There is a person here who is worthy of the Holy Spirit, but his generation is not worthy.”62 This is the sole tannaitic passage in which the bat qol conveys a message from the divine world, and it is to deny the possibility of a contemporary inspiration.63 The phrase occurs five more times in tannaitic sources, and of these three employ bat qol to mean “a voice or a word heard without seeing the person who uttered it, or a word heard from a person who was not conscious of the import of his saying.”64 In the remaining two passages, the bat qol bears a divine message, but both locate this event in the past, one at the death of Moses and the other during the time of the Temple.65 As Lieberman noted long ago, it is in the post-tannaitic sources that bat qol takes on an oracular sense,66 a point confirmed by more recent scholarship.67

Charismatic Figures Consider, finally, the tannaitic ambivalence toward charismatic authority that finds expression in the marginalization of the Ḥasidim. As Shmuel



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Safrai argued long ago,68 tannaitic sources characterize Ḥasidim as enjoying an intimate relationship with God, placing less emphasis on ritual observance. Two Ḥasidim are discussed at length in tannaitic sources: Hanina ben Dosa and Honi the Circle Drawer. The former, we are told, could foresee whether a sick person would live or die, since “if my prayer is fluent in my mouth, I know that he is accepted; and if it is not, I know that he is rejected” (m. Berakhot 5.5);69 the latter successfully petitioned God for rain, using remarkably gruff language to do so (m. Taʿanit 3.8).70 Yet these figures exist at the margins of the tannaitic world: neither Hanina ben Dosa nor Honi passes down even a single legal dictum,71 and their proximity to God is portrayed in surprisingly ambiguous terms. The conclusion of the Honi story makes explicit the rabbinic discomfort with his status, as Shimon ben Shetah (a Second Temple figure whom the rabbis identify as their precursor) informs him: “Were you not Honi I would have pronounced a ban against you” (m. Taʿanit 3.8).72 To the motifs already discussed, others may be added. Mireille HadasLebel has referred to the tannaitic refus de l’apocalyptique,73 a view supported by Lawrence Schiffman’s conclusion that “[t]annaitic Judaism sought, at least as represented in the extant documents, to mute the apocalypticism of the earlier period.”74 Lidija Novakovic has shown that “the sages in the early period generally showed little interest in miracles, and when they did, they had a tendency to reduce their interference with the created order . . . [and] to diminish the magical implications of traditional miracles by downplaying human involvement and ascribing the miracles solely to God.”75 Menahem Kister’s recent argument regarding the tannaitic suppression of allegory, insofar as it is grounded in a conception of the Torah as not inherently mysterious, may also be germane.76 Even without extensive discussion of each of these, the broader point is, I hope, clear: tannaitic sources are profoundly ambivalent toward charismatic interpretation, charismatic authority more broadly, and a host of related phenomena. No less important is that this ambivalence has no historical staying power, as subsequent strata of rabbinic literature embrace these very phenomena, with several tannaitic figures and motifs reconfigured to accommodate this shift.

Post-Tannaitic Sources: Reinterpretations and Accretions Nearly half a century ago, Urbach took scholars of early Jewish mysticism to task for failing to properly distinguish different strata of rabbinic sources.77

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Urbach’s first example is the maʿaśeh merkavah story involving Rabbi Eleazar and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, versions of which appear in three sources: the Tosefta, the Palestinian Talmud, and the Babylonian Talmud.78 As Urbach rightly emphasized, the Tosefta narrative is remarkably free of mystical content. In it, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai rides a donkey while his disciple, Rabbi Eleazar, walks behind him. The latter asks to expound the “Act of the Chariot” to him, and, after initially refusing, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai dismounts to hear his disciple. When Rabbi Eleazar completes his lesson, Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai blesses him: “Blessed is the Lord God of Israel, who has given a son to Abraham our Father, who knows how to understand and to expound the glory of his Father in Heaven” (t. Ḥagigah 2.1–2; Lieberman, Moʿed 380).79 In later versions, however, the story is transformed into a mystical encounter: as Rabbi Eleazar is expounding, a fire descends from the heavens and surrounds Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai and him, ministering angels appear, one of whom speaks from the fire, and surrounding trees burst into song. What was in the Tosefta a “modest and restrained description”80 of the chariot exposition becomes a full-fledged supernatural revelation. A similar dynamic is in evidence with the famous pardes episode. T. Ḥagigah tells of four sages who enter an orchard and the different fates that each meets. The Tosefta is more allusive than detailed, and the passage contains no explicit reference to heavenly ascent. The parallel in the Babylonian Talmud contains a significant addition: “Rabbi Akiva said to them: ‘When you come to the stones of pure marble, do not say, “Water! Water!” As it is written: “No one who utters lies shall continue in my presence”’” (Ps. 101:7). Gershom Scholem connected this story to a passage in the Hekhalot literature, in which a person unworthy of viewing God is taken to the sixth of the heavenly palaces, which appears to be full of water but is, in fact, dry. If the unfortunate mystic asked as to the meaning of the water, “they began to stone him. . . . And he does not go until they strike his head with iron bars and wound him. And this shall be a sign for all times that no one shall err at the gate of the sixth palace . . . and take [its stones] for water.”81 However, as Urbach rightly insisted, the Tosefta does not refer to the stones of pure marble, and it is anachronistic to read the tannaitic sources through the lens of the Babylonian Talmud. Urbach himself understood the Tosefta not as an account of mystical ascent but as a parable (mashal) about mystical speculation.82 However, Peter Schäfer has argued convincingly that Urbach, too, continues to operate under the influence of the Talmud, for the Tosefta version, segregated from the later developments of the pardes story, is not concerned with mysticism at all:83 “The various versions of the story show,



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however, that in the process of transmission, a mystical interpretation came to be superimposed on the original metaphorical one.”84 The charismatic Ḥasidim are also repositioned as part of the rabbinic mainstream. William Scott Green traces the talmudic reception of the Honi story (b. Taʿanit 23a) and shows the various ways the protagonist is, as Green says, “rabbinized”: his actions are likened to (and thereby sanctioned by) those of the prophet Habakkuk; he is referred to as “Rabbi” by those petitioning for rain; and he is portrayed as the recipient of a presumably rabbinic tradition. Most remarkably for a man to whom tannaitic sources attribute not a single legal teaching, the Talmud characterizes Honi as the greatest sage of his generation, who “came to the House of Study [to] clarify to the rabbis all their cruces.”85 A similar, though less dramatic, shift is evident in the later reception of Hanina ben Dosa, whom the Babylonian Talmud endows with the title “Rabbi” and describes as healing the son of Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai, thus meriting the praise of this sage, who describes his and Hanina’s relationship with God as non-mutually exclusive: “He is like a servant before the king, while I am like a minister before the king” (b. Berakhot 34b).86 It is important to recognize that even as Honi and Hanina are being reconfigured as sages, the Talmud is willing, even eager, to admit miracle workers into the rabbinic ranks. The rapprochement, then, is bidirectional: the Ḥasidim acquire rabbinic traits, but, at the same time, the rabbis are better able to integrate into their fold rain-making, prayer-healing charismatics. So much so, that Lawrence Schiffman writes of “a striking and extremely significant feature of rabbinic Judaism in the amoraic period, namely the resurfacing of a set of apocalyptic messianic ideas that had typified various trends of Second Temple Judaism, but that had appeared to have become extinct in tannaitic times after the destruction of the Temple.”87 Revision of a different, redactional, kind occurs when later statements that champion Torah mysteries and revelatory interpretation are incorporated into the tannaitic sources. The sixth chapter of m. ʾAvot, for example, is cited repeatedly in secondary literature, since it contains the only mishnaic usage of the word raz, “secret” (m. ʾAvot 6.1) and one of the most explicit affirmations of Torah mystery: “Everyone who is occupied with Torah for its own sake obtains of many things. . . . They reveal to him secrets of Torah, and he is made like a spring that increases and like a river that does not cease” (m. ʾAvot 6.6).88 Alas, tractate ʾAvot consists of five chapters, the sixth being a late (probably geonic) addition.89 Another late addition is the saying attributed to Rabbi Pinas ben Yair, another halakhically marginal Ḥasid, in m. Soṭah 9.15: “Heedfulness leads

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to cleanliness, cleanliness leads to purity . . . saintliness [ḥasidut] leads to the Holy Spirit.”90 The two revisionary dynamics at work—incorporation of later dicta into tannaitic sources and reworking of earlier motifs—represent a significant challenge to scholarship dealing with early Jewish mysticism. The failure to appreciate these shifts can, in extreme cases, render an entire work useless.91 But even more nuanced scholarship is at times forced into contortions to defend the view that some tannaim are mystical readers of Scripture. Markus Bockmuehl, for one, regularly draws on post-tannaitic sources when discussing the Tannaim. He justifies this practice as follows: “My sources will include a variety of documents clearly dating from a later period, but I propose to cite Amoraic evidence only in order to illustrate views akin at least in substance to those of the earliest Rabbinic period.”92 But this explanation is wanting. If the amoraic texts present views that are genuinely “akin at least in substance” to their tannaitic predecessors, Bockmuehl should simply cite the tannaitic attestations. If, however, the post-tannaitic sources are needed because they provide material not attested in earlier strata, they are not “akin in substance,” and their inclusion in a discussion of tannaitic views is anachronistic.93

B. Menaḥot 29b and the Diminution of the Prophets At this point, I want to revisit the story of Moses’ visit to Rabbi Akiva’s classroom in b. Menaḥot 29b, as I believe that it, too, is part of the “resurfacing,” to use Schiffman’s term, of Second Temple motifs in post-tannaitic sources. Specifically, it announces the return of the two constitutive elements of charismatic interpretation: the inherently mysterious Torah; and the gifted interpreter capable of uncovering its secrets. The mysteries of Torah are, the narrative informs us, located in the crowns of the letters. These graphic flourishes are not part of the language of the Torah, and their interpretation indicates that Rabbi Akiva is able to derive meaning even from non-semantic aspects of the text. They are, in other words, oracular markers that are—like the entrails of sheep or the dregs of a wine goblet—meaningless to all but “an interpreter gifted with divine insight.” Clearly, Rabbi Akiva is this interpreter, the reader for whom the Torah is intended; he is—ontologically—the reader of Torah, since God composed the work with Rabbi Akiva in mind. As is typical of charismatic interpretation, the divine revelation in b. Menaḥot is made up of two discrete moments. The passage opens with Moses



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ascending to receive the Torah—the paradigmatic act of revelation. But the meaning of the Torah is not made known to Moses, as God defers this aspect to the future arrival of Rabbi Akiva, the tanna who is and was intended from the outset to be the only reader capable of uncovering Scripture’s inner meaning: “There is a person who will come in several generations named Akiva ben Yosef.” So while Sinai—metonymically represented by Moses—is the site of the Torah’s revelation, the internal meaning of the text is revealed only in Rabbi Akiva’s bet midrash. Just as Daniel’s vision remains hidden until a future time, and the Teacher of Righteousness is the revealer of earlier prophecies, here, too, the “belatedness” of the interpreter is a positive attribute, since the later interpretation constitutes the site of full revelation.94 The Bavli narrative also thematizes a second, related motif found in earlier charismatic texts: the ignorance of the prophet. Prophetic ignorance is already apparent in some of the later biblical prophets—for example, in Zechariah’s dialogue with the angel: “I said to the angel who talked with me, ‘What are these, my lord?’ Then the angel who talked with me answered me, ‘Do you not know what these are?’ I said, ‘No, my lord.’ He said to me, ‘This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel’” (Zech. 4:4–6). The prophet’s ignorance compels the seer to appeal to God or to another divine entity to explain the meaning of God’s word. So, in the last chapter of the Book of Daniel, the heavenly man informs Daniel of a future time of great knowledge, but Daniel cannot grasp the meaning of these words: “I heard but did not understand, so I said, ‘My lord, what will be the outcome of these things?’ He said, ‘Go, Daniel, for these words are to remain secret and sealed to the time of the end.’ . . . None of the wicked will understand, but the knowledgeable will understand” (Dan. 12:8–10). As the divine figure makes clear, the prophet is not qualified to understand the prophecy, so it is “to remain secret and sealed,” inscrutable to contemporary readers. In the fullness of time, however, there will arise an interpreter (or a community of interpreters) who will be able to understand the true meaning of Daniel’s prophecy. So too with other prophets, as Brownlee notes in his edition of Pesher Habakkuk: “That which was not made known [to Habakkuk] was the entire content to which the enigmatic words really relate, for they contain mysteries not disclosed. Knowledge of these was reserved for the Righteous Teacher. It was not mere chronological knowledge which Habakkuk lacked . . . but it was an understanding of the specific events to which his words made veiled and enigmatic allusion.”95 Michael Fishbane echoes this view: “Indeed, the true meaning of the ancient prophecies was not even known to the authoritative spokesmen of God who revealed

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them in past times. Only through the interpretations of the Teacher will the community know of the final day and their ultimate vindication.”96 In the Menaḥot passage, Moses is relegated to the role of the transmitter of a message that he cannot grasp (much like his fellow prophets Daniel and Habakkuk). He is unable to understand the teachings in Rabbi Akiva’s house of study, and admits his inferiority: “Master of the Universe, You have such a person and yet You give the Torah through me?” While Rabbi Akiva occupies the same role as “the knowledgeable” in Daniel and the Teacher of Righteousness in Pesher Habakkuk, as the only one able to uncover the meaning hidden in God’s word.97 This transformation of Rabbi Akiva’s interpretive ability accords with the broader shift in tannaitic literature outlined above—the resurfacing of Second Temple concepts of the hidden meaning of Scripture and the concomitant need for an inspired interpreter. A pithy expression of this shift is found in the two saying that make up the epigraph of this chapter. For the tanna Rabbi Nehemiah, the clarity of Scripture is self-­evident enough to be formulated as a rhetorical question: “After all, for what purpose does Scripture come, to open or to lock? Behold, it comes not to lock but to open.” How different is the statement of the late midrash Exodus Rabbah: “Moses wrote many things in the Torah without explaining them.”

Excursus

Oral Tradition as the Site of Esotericism

Since tannaitic texts do not represent the Torah as a repository of mysteries, Bockmuehl’s assertion that “[f]or the rabbis, all mysteries are Torah mysteries,”1 would, if correct, foreclose the possibility of tannaitic esotericism. In fact, one passage suggests that secret knowledge was indeed transmitted, but through extra-scriptural halakhot rather than Scripture.2 M. Yadayim 4.3 deals with the tithing obligation of Ammon and Moab during the sabbatical year (sheviʿit). Lacking a clear ruling, the sages try to determine the matter by means of analogy: Rabbi Tarfon argues for an analogy from the tithing for the poor; and Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah from maʿaśer sheni, the rabbinic tithe of the first, second, fourth, and sixth years. Rabbi Ishmael enters into the fray, and at the end of a long dialectical discussion, it is decided that Ammon and Moab are required to pay the “poor tithe” (maʿaśer ʿani) during the sabbatical year. In a postscript to the legal debate, Rabbi Yose of Damascus comes to Rabbi Eliezer and tells him of the eventual decision. “Rabbi Eliezer wept and said, ‘The Lord’s secret is for those who fear Him’ (Ps. 25:14). Go and tell them, fear not for your vote. I have received it from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai who heard from his master and his master from his as halakhah from Moses at Sinai that Ammon and Moab are required to maintain the ‘poor tithe’ during the sabbatical year.” The key is, of course, the citation of Psalm 25:14: “The Lord’s secret is for those who fear Him,” which casts the earlier debate in a new light. The sages, after all, proceeded with their debate unaware of the existence of an extrascriptural tradition on the matter. Nonetheless, their debate produced the correct conclusion and, in so doing, brought Rabbi Eliezer to tears. His endorsement of their decision as “the Lord’s secret is for those who fear Him” indicates that he considers the sages to have revealed a divine secret. This oral

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tradition (“I have received it from Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai . . . halakhah from Moses at Sinai”) is a mystery—hidden even from the other rabbis—and its discovery, via the dialectic arguments of the rabbinic synod, a revelatory moment. The parallel in t. Yadayim 2.8 confirms the revelatory aspect, as Rabbi Eliezer also cites Amos 3:7: “Surely the Lord God does nothing, without revealing His secret to His servants the prophets.” The idea that oral tradition is the site of mystery is also found in a passage from the much later Yelamdenu midrashim: “Moses requested that the mishnah3 be written down, but the Holy One, blessed be He, foresaw that the nations are going to translate the Torah and read it in Greek and claim: ‘We are Israel.’ . . . The Holy One, blessed be He, said to the idolaters: ‘Why do you claim to be My sons? I recognize only whoever has possession of My mysterion as My sons.’ They said to Him: ‘What [is] Your mysterion?’ He said to them: ‘This refers to the mishnah [which was transmitted orally].’”4 Though most discussions of this passage focus on its polemic motivation—the rabbinic sages positing their own mysterion as a counterpoint to the mysterion of Paul or the early church fathers5 —it is worth highlighting employment of oral, written, and esoteric teachings in this passage. Moses, for reasons unstated, wants the mishnah codified, but God refuses because this would render it vulnerable to the specious genealogical claims of the nations who “are going to translate the Torah and read it in Greek and claim, ‘We are Israel.’”6 The orality of mishnah preserves its status as the true mystery of God and marks its rabbinic possessors as God’s sons.7

Chapter 9

Midrash and Extra-Scriptural Tradition: A Synchronic Model

They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one ­having authority, and not as the scribes. —Mark 1:27 The teachings of the scribes require buttressing [ḥizuq]. —t. Yebamot 2.4

Ancient Polemics In book 13 of the Antiquities of the Jews, Josephus refers briefly to one of the differences between the Pharisees and the Sadducees: “What I would now explain is this, that the Pharisees have delivered to the people a great many observances by succession from their fathers, which are not written in the laws of Moses; and for that reason it is that the Sadducees reject them, and say that we are to esteem those observances to be obligatory which are in the written word, but are not to observe what are derived from the tradition of our forefathers. And concerning these things it is that great disputes and differences have arisen among them” (Ant. 13.10.6 §297). Scholars have addressed and continue to address every conceivable aspect of this passage, but this much is uncontroversial: the late Second Temple period witnessed a vigorous debate regarding the status of midrash and of extrascriptural traditions, with many works securely located on one or the other side of this divide. My primary interest in this chapter lies with the tannaim,

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but I offer a brief survey of other texts whose univocal position serves as a foil to the complexity of the tannaitic sources. Arguably the most univocal of the Second Temple groups, the Qumran community’s commitment to scriptural authority cuts across the various genres of the Dead Sea Scrolls. In its (perhaps idealized) self-portrait, the community casts itself as centered on what Steven Fraade has called “ritualized common study”:1 “And in the place in which the Ten assemble there should never be missing a man to interpret the law [torah] day and night, always, one relieving another. And the Many shall be on watch together for a third of each night of the year in order to read the book, explain the regulation, and bless together” (1QS 6.6–8).2 Adiel Schremer, building on the work of Moshe David Herr, has persuasively argued that the Scrolls’ historiographic writings link Israel’s deterioration into waywardness with the nation’s failure to read the Torah, since “David had not read the sealed book of the law which was in the ark, for it had not been opened in Israel since the day of the death of Eleazar and of Joshua” (CD 5.2– 4).3 This failure undergirds the Qumran community’s demand that new members of the community “revert to the Torah of Moses” (1QS 5.7–10), reflecting the perception that Torah has been abandoned and the demand that it regain its rightful place as the chief—indeed, sole—source of authority. Nowhere is this demand pressed more forcefully than in the vociferous criticism leveled against extra-scriptural authority. Polemical statements include the Temple Scroll’s reworking of Deut. 17:18’s “he shall have a copy of this law [mishneh torah] written before him” as “they shall write for him this law [torah] in a book” (11QT 56.20–21). The crucial omission of the word “mishnah” is likely due to a desire to exclude the kind of interpretation found in Sifre Deuteronomy §160: “Why was mishneh torah stated? Because in the future it will be recited (orally) and taught to others.”4 Earlier, 11QT paraphrased Deuteronomy 17:11 (“You shall act in accordance with [ʿal pi] the instruction [torah] given you and the ruling handed down to you; you must not deviate from the verdict that they announce to you either to the right or to the left”) as: “And you shall act . . . according to the word that they say to you from the book of the torah” (11QT 56.3–4), so that the torah, “instruction,” of Deuteronomy is thereby textualized—“the book of torah.” As Yigael Yadin notes, “There is virtually no doubt that these changes were designed to prohibit the fixing of any law according to oral tradition, i.e., any law not written and interpreted in the Pentateuch.”5 The phrase “the book of the torah,” then, excludes rulings based on extra-scriptural tradition.



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Menahem Kister has pointed to a “rival” interpretation of the same verse in the scholium to Megillat Taʿanit to the tenth of Tammuz:6 “For the Boethusians would write halakhot in a book [sefer] and when a person inquires they show him [the answer] in the book. The sages said to them: ‘But [Scripture] has already stated . . . “in accordance with [ʿal pi] the instruction [torah] given you” (Deut. 17:11). This teaches that one does not write in a book.’”7 Here the phrase ʿal pi (“in accordance with”; lit., “according to the mouth”) is glossed as a reference to the orality of the teachings. Indeed, Kister (drawing on studies by Cana Werman and others) identifies in the scholium a series of derashot each of which stands as one half of a polemic couplet—the scholium endorsing orally transmitted halakhot and another endorsing written scriptural authority. Exodus 34:27 (“in accordance with [ʿal pi] these words, I have made a covenant with you and with Israel”) serves, in the scholium, as another prooftext for the orality of the covenant—again, the operative phrase being ʿal pi. But in the Damascus Document, we find: “‘[The Lord said to Moses: Write these words]; in accordance with [ʿal pi] these words, I have made a covenant with you and with Israel’ (Exod. 34:27). . . . And the exact interpretation of their ages about the blindness of Israel in all these matters, behold it is defined in ‘The book of the divisions of the periods according to their jubilees and their weeks’” (4Q271 4 ii, 3–5). Though not quoted in the Damascus Document, the first part of God’s command to Moses, “write these words,” clearly links divinely sanctioned writing to the text of “the book of the divisions,” that is, the Book of Jubilees.8 Also relevant are the Scrolls’ repeated attacks on dorshe ḥalaqot, “those looking for easy interpretations,” inter alia, in Pesher Nahum (“the Angry Lion who filled his cave with a mass of corpses, carrying out revenge against those looking for easy interpretations [dorshe ḥalaqot]”)9 and the Damascus Document (those who “sought easy interpretations [darshu ba-ḥalaqot], chose illusions . . . acquitted the guilty and sentenced the just”).10 Joseph Baumgarten was the first to suggest that dorshe ḥalaqot is a polemic play on dorshe halakhot, those who seek after (or: who interpret) extra-scriptural traditions, a position that has garnered widespread support.11 Later in this chapter, I will discuss the interpretive practice that best fits this description. For now, I note that if Baumgarten is correct and dorshe ḥalaqot is a derogatory reference to those who seek after halakhot, this epithet constitutes another example of a polemic based on the Qumran community’s commitment to a scripturalist position. The question of extra-scriptural tradition also figures prominently in the New Testament, with the synoptic gospels and Paul staking out different

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positions. The Gospels contain a number of explicit attacks on the authority of paradosis. When the Pharisees and scribes criticize Jesus for allowing his disciples to contravene “the traditions of the elders” by eating with unwashed hands, he condemns them as hypocrites who “abandon the commandment of God and hold to [krateō] human tradition” (Mark 7:8; parallel at Matt. 15:2).12 In Paul’s epistles, in contrast, we find a generally positive view of received tradition13 and regular recourse to the terminology of oral transmission. Some of the transmitted teachings are kerygmatic: “For I handed on to you (paredōka) as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures” (1 Cor. 15:3); others pertain to the life and Passion of Christ: “For I received (parelabon) from the Lord what I also handed on to you (paredōka), that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed” (1 Cor. 11:23).14 Paul praises his followers “because you have been mindful of me in everything and are holding to the traditions (paradoseis), just as I passed them on (paredōka) to you” (1 Cor. 11:2), and urges them to “stand firm and hold fast [krateite]15 to the traditions (paradoseis) that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by our letter” (2 Thess. 2:15).16 Other figures could be added to this list, but the main point has been communicated: the struggle between scriptural authority and extrascriptural tradition was very much alive in Second Temple Jewish (including New Testament) writings, with each source demarcating a fairly coherent position on the matter.

Tannaitic Sources: Imposed Uniformity Not so tannaitic sources, where the relationship between legal midrash and extra-biblical traditions has been the subject of heated debate for more than a century.17 More accurately, this relationship has been the subject of several debates. As Albeck noted,18 much of the scholarly discussion deals with the question of transmission, that is, whether rabbinic and pre-rabbinic law was recorded and transmitted from one generation to the next in apodictic or in midrashic form. Though an important question in its own right (one that probably cannot be as neatly severed from the issue of authority as Albeck believes), transmission need not map onto authorization ideology, so it is not directly pertinent to the present inquiry. Another issue that I will not address is the literary and redactional priority of mishnaic versus midrashic corpora, a question that occupies Ronen Reichman’s Mishnah und Sifra.19



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On the question of legal authority, we find that scholars have tended to affirm the priority of one authorizing model over the other or to chart diachronic changes in authorizing priority. The view that rabbinic law is, with very view exceptions, scripturally derived, is championed by the Malbim:20 “For indeed, the hearts have been confounded and the examiners befuddled . . . wondering, ‘This Torah we have which is called the Oral Torah, what is its foundation and where does its glory reside?’. . . But everyone who examines with rectitude and passes just judgment will see that it is always supported by the pillar of Scripture and is derived [nidreshet] from the verses.”21 On the other end of the spectrum stands Isaac Halevy, who argues that extra-scriptural tradition enjoyed absolute and unquestioned dominance in Second Temple and post-70 Judaism. An ancient version of the Mishnah was already established in the days of the Great Assembly, and halakhah had no recourse to—indeed, no interest in—the biblical text: “For as is becoming progressively clearer, they never founded a ruling on a derashah, not even the most simple one. . . . Rather, the criterion in all such matters was received tradition [qabbalah] and nothing else.”22 These extreme positions have been rightly dismissed for their refusal to consider the full scope of relevant rabbinic sources. As Urbach writes of Malbim and Halevy, “each of these views bases itself on only part of the sources, and to the extent that they attempt to reconcile the sources that appear to support the opposite view—the explications are forced.”23 Despite Urbach’s critique, David Weiss Halivni reiterated what amounts to Malbim’s view: No law is really binding on the Jew unless it can be shown to have its origin in the Bible. Midrashic form continued to exist, therefore, even after the change to Mishnaic form. It existed in the laws that are found only in the Midreshei Halakhah (that is, those not found in the Mishnah), and it existed concomitantly in the laws that are found in both the Midreshei Halakhah and the Mishnah. For the latter, Midrash served as the ground, the justification, the life support. Indeed, one may legitimately wonder whether the Mishnah would have survived at all were it not for the parallel existence of Midreshei Halakhah.24 Halivni’s one-sided approach, and consequent need to force all rabbinic sources into conformity with the textualist position, leads to perplexing conclusions. Halivni asserts that the chain of transmission in m. ʾAvot “does not

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necessarily refer to Oral Law despite popular notions. The written Torah itself could very well be the sole subject in this certification of authenticity and reliable transmission.”25 But there is nothing in the Mishnah to suggest that it is offering a full-blown alternative to the Sinai theophany narrative of Exodus, which takes place in the sight of the entire people of Israel, rather than a personal transaction between Moses and Joshua. Moreover, the Mishnah traces the transmission of Torah from Moses through Joshua, the elders, the prophets, the men of the Great Assembly, to the zugot and the rabbinic sages, whose teachings are imparted as oral dicta unrelated to Scripture. Or consider Halivni’s claim that “the entire concept of oral law . . . was shelved and disregarded,” since “the idea of an Oral Torah is hardly mentioned at all in Tannaitic literature,”26 which confounds the concept of extrascriptural tradition with the phrase “Oral Torah” (torah she-beʿal-peh). True, the latter is not mentioned in tannaitic literature27—but what of it? Dozens of tannaitic passages, a significant number of which are discussed in the present work, bespeak a clear and explicit committed to extra-scriptural tradition. As Sam Brody has noted: “There is a question here about whether Halivni conflates the phrase halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai, which appears a few times in tannaitic sources . . . with the existence of extra scriptural traditions as such and their defense by tannaitic sources.”28 In a particularly problematic passage, Halivni writes: “Talmudic and rabbinic scholars, especially those who feel competent enough to utilize relatively later sources for the projection of antecedents see things differently. To such scholars, it is apparent that from soon after Ezra, a sizable, active community existed continuously, and that its tradition found its religious fulfillment centuries later in rabbinic halakhah.”29 In this brief statement, Halivni manages to derogate the two main pillars of critical philology and of historically self-aware humanities scholarship more broadly. Namely, the rejection of the anachronistic views of the sort that Halivni champions when he speaks of using “relatively later sources for the projection of antecedents”; and the rejection of the historical teleology that animates his statement that a Second Temple tradition “found its religious fulfillment . . . in rabbinic halakhah.” Scholars who eschew the extreme formulations of Halivni and Halevy nonetheless accord clear priority to one mode of authorization over the other. Albeck (who seems to hold two views; see below) presents the Oral Law as merely an explication of the Written: “Every text can be interpreted in various ways . . . [and] as a result, foundational books receive, over time, various interpretations. So, too, with the Torah. From the day it was handed down to Israel,



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it was accompanied by an oral explanation that clarified its intent and offered a detailed interpretation of its general statements. This explanation is the Oral Law, also known as qabbalah and masoret.”30 In this passage, the Oral Law is wholly dependent upon the Written, whose appearance as an autonomous source of authority in tannaitic sources is the product of later developments that obscured the original relationship between the Oral and Written Torahs. For “over time the law grew and expanded, and the detailed discussions and derashot that were appended to the Torah overwhelmed it to the point that Scripture became scanty and the ­halakhot numerous, the addendum outweighing the original.”31 Despite later developments, then, Albeck relegates Oral Law to the status of ancilla ­scripturae, effectively denying its standing as an independent source of legal authority.32 Arguing for the opposite position—that midrash is ancillary to extrascriptural traditions—Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann writes: “Rulings [halakhot] are not produced by means of interpretation; rather they are received, and the sages use interpretation only as a means for ex post facto support [ʾasmakhtaʾ], or to provide a firmer foundation, or to preserve them lest they be forgotten.”33 Jacob Nahum Epstein similarly argues that even when rabbinic laws were transmitted with scriptural prooftexts, the verses were not their source: “While scriptural prooftexts are provided for halakhah, one does not derive or innovate legal traditions on the basis of Scripture.”34 Alongside the polar opposite positions, we find an array of diachronic models that identify moments in which pre-rabbinic and rabbinic sages shifted from one source of legal authority to the other.35 Yekutiel Neubauer surveys the positions of some of the earlier scholars: David Zvi Hoffmann held that extra-scriptural traditions replaced midrashic study in the days of Hillel and Shammai; Zechariah Frankel located the shift in the days of Rabbi Akiva; and A. H. Weiss argued that midrash, the original form, was replaced by halakhot, but in the days of Hillel reasserted its priority.36 Even this brief and provisional survey indicates the wide array of scholarly opinions on midrash and extra-scriptural traditions in rabbinic sources. However, common to all is the assumption that rabbinic sources endorse a single, discrete position at any given time. According to some scholars, this position does not change; others portray it as undergoing a diachronic shift or series of shifts between scriptural and oral-traditional authorization. I consider this approach fundamentally misguided and propose in its stead a synchronic approach that identifies both modes of authorization within tannaitic sources.

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Tannaitic Sources: Synchronic Conflict A number of scholars have recognized—albeit tentatively—that midrashic and oral-traditional authority models coexist in tannaitic sources. Albeck, despite explicitly privileging midrash (see above), states that “there are derashot that precede the halakhot and derashot that succeed them, and it is only possible to determine the nature of the derashot by comparative analysis of the sources.”37 Neubauer concludes in his study of the two modes of authorization that “the more ancient form is midrash,” but “alongside midrashic study there was, already in ancient times, a collection of received halakhot.”38 Albeck and Neubauer, however, portray midrash and halakhot in a state of irenic coexistence, a view whose inadequacy I essay to demonstrate below. To my mind, the most complete engagement of this question up to this point is that of Urbach, who recognizes midrash and received tradition as two distinct authorizing models, linking the former to scribal circles and the latter to the Pharisees-sages. The derashah “emerged in the circles of the scribes, the interpreters and explicators of the Torah” and was legally binding “only insofar as the derashot corroborated and sustained rulings, attestations, and exemplary deeds [maʿaśim] already accepted by the sages.”39 Only gradually did “the sages, members of the rabbinic courts and the Sanhedrin, adopt the scribal practices. But the acceptance of the derashah as a foundation for ­halakhic adjudication was a slow process.”40 Urbach’s important article represents a real advance in the conceptualization of the issue, first and foremost in recognizing the existence of—and the tension between—the two positions.41 My own proposal builds on Urbach’s but differs in a number of important respects. First, I hold that the division runs through the heart of tannaitic sources, overlapping to a great extent with the division between the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim (whose position is not dissimilar to the one that Halivni attributes to the rabbis collectively) and the texts associated with Rabbi Akiva (the Mishnah and, more surprisingly, some of the named Sifra derashot), which accord priority to received halakhot. Moreover, Urbach’s model remains diachronic and unitary insofar as the Pharisees-sages, who champion received tradition, undergo change following contact with an external group, the priestly scribes. This is why he asserts that scriptural arguments were authoritative “only insofar as the derashot corroborated and sustained rulings, attestations, and exemplary deeds [maʿaśim] already accepted by the sages.”42 But the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, with their well-articulated scriptural ideology,



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sophisticated hermeneutic techniques, and established terminology, contravene Urbach on this point, as they accord primacy to Scripture independently of “rulings, attestations, and exemplary deeds.” These recalcitrant conceptual difficulties can be overcome by shifting the terms of analysis and recognizing the existence of two contemporary religious ideologies, two authority “communities”43 whose dynamics are similar to those of language communities in a contact environment.

Ideal Types One indication of tension between the two authorizing models is that they give rise to different ideal types.44 As I argued in detail in Scripture as Logos, the Ishmaelian scripturalist gains authority through obedience to a hermeneutic order established—or, at least, sanctioned—by Scripture itself.45 Literacy, in general, and a superlative command of the biblical text, in particular, are the prized traits of the midrashist, with scholarly genealogy accorded little or no weight. The master of extra-scriptural tradition, in contrast, enjoys authority by virtue of his status as a disciple of a recognized master, that is to say, of an authorized recipient of extra-scriptural halakhot—a scholarly genealogy reaching back to Moses, just as the biological priestly genealogy reaches back to Aaron. The master of halakhot does not need to be a skilled interpreter of Scripture—or even, for that matter, literate. His authority is derived from his place in the oral-traditional chain of transmission, and from his reliable memory—which allows him to accurately recall the traditions passed down to him.46 The division between different authority communities may have found social expression, as the Sifre Deuteronomy hints: “‘He came at the head of the people [he executed the justice of the Lord, and his ordinances for Israel]’ (Deut. 33:21): . . . This shows that in future Moses will enter at the head of every group [ḥavurah]—at the head of the group of the masters of Scripture [baʿ ale miqraʾ], at the head of the masters of mishnah, and at the head of masters of talmud, and take his reward with each one of them” (Sifre Deuteronomy §355; Hammer, 373).47 I do not know what social reality underwrites the Sifre’s division,48 and the precise referents of each group are frustratingly unclear.49 Nonetheless, the existence of “masters” of miqraʾ, of mishnah, and of talmud appears to be based on differences in the study or engagement of distinct authorizing elements.

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Semantic Incommensurability I noted above that the Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael never cites non-midrashic legal dicta “in the name of” a sage, nor does it refer to sages’ “testimony,” “decrees,” “words of the scribes,” or “words of the sages,” though all commonly introduce extra-scriptural traditions in the Mishnah and named Sifra derashot.50 Rabbi Ishmael, moreover, never recognizes another sage as his master, an impossible situation for anyone hoping to enjoy legal authority within an oral-traditional framework. In other words, the Mekhilta (along with the Sifre Numbers) does not speak the “language” of extra-scriptural tradition. In Scripture as Logos, I also identified a number of technical terms that have incommensurable meanings: one pertaining to midrashic interpretation and the other to extra-scriptural traditions,51 with the former attested in the Ishmaelian sources, the latter in Akivan. Thus, in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, the phrase “we have/ have not heard” refers to information that has or has not been communicated by Scripture; in the Mishnah and the Sifra, the same phrase refers to extra-scriptural traditions. “Rabbi Akiva said: ‘I asked Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua . . . if a man had intercourse with his sister and his father’s sister and his mother’s sister during one bout of forgetfulness, what happens?—is he liable to one offering for them all or to one offering for each of them?’ They said to me, ‘We have not heard, but have heard [a related tradition]’” (m. Keritot 3.7).52 Similarly, the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim refer to Scripture “speaking of the standard case” (dibber ha-katuv ba-hoveh);53 but in the Mishnah, it is the sages who do so. A third technical term that characterizes Scripture in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim but extra-scriptural traditions in texts associated with Rabbi Akiva is stam (“without explanation”). The Mekhilta states that “all the oaths in the Torah were stated without explanation [stam]” (Mekhilta Neziqin 16, Horovitz-Rabin, 303; Lauterbach 3:122–23); in the Mishnah, it is an extra-scriptural tradition that is transmitted stam: “thus have I heard it but without explanation” (m. Parah 1.1). A formal representation of this difference might run as follows: tannaitic sources know a number of incommensurable terms (P) that appear as Ps and Pt, where the former designates the term in a scriptural sense and the latter in an oral-traditional sense, such that, for example, hearings is a technical term for deriving information from the biblical text, while hearingt refers to receiving an oral tradition. To this list I would add the root q-b-l, which regularly refers to the reception of extra-scriptural traditions, as in the opening of m. ʾAvot, “Moses received [qibbel] Torah from Sinai and passed it down to Joshua” (m. ʾAvot 1.1);



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“Nahum the Scribe said: ‘I have received a tradition [mequbbal ʾani] from Rabbi Measha, who received [qibbel] from his father, who received [qibbel) from the pairs, who received [qibblu] from the prophets as a halakhah given to Moses at Sinai’” (m. Peʾah 2.6), and more.54 Despite the expectation that qabbalah would mean “tradition” (as it does in later sources), in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim it is a technical term (and thoroughly scriptural) designating the prophetic writings and the hagiographa:55 And how do we know that [Israel while in Egypt] were above suspicion in regard to chastity? It is said “A man whose mother was an Israelite and whose father was an Egyptian came out” (Lev. 24:10). This actually proclaims the excellence of Israel, as this was the only instance among them of unchastity; hence Scripture makes special mention of it. Of them it is stated explicitly in qabbalah: “A garden locked is my sister, my bride, a garden locked, a fountain sealed” (Song of Songs 4:12). “A garden locked” refers to the men; “a fountain sealed” refers to the women. (Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael Pisḥa 5, Horovitz-Rabin, 14; Lauterbach 1:34–35)56 Here, too, then, we find the same term (or root) used incommensurably, to denote an oral-traditional phenomenon and a scriptural one. The term “incommensurable,” whose precise sense I have yet to clarify, is drawn from Thomas Kuhn’s seminal The Structure of Scientific Revolutions57— more specifically, his discussion of the relationship between scientific theories that emerge as a result of a revolutionary shift in a scientific field (the proverbial paradigm shift) and those that preceded them. For many shifts in the history of science, this is not a pressing concern because the emergence of a new paradigm is accompanied by an entirely new set of terms. But this is not always so; for many contemporary historians of science, Kuhn’s emphasis on revolutionary change was belied by an apparently smooth transition from Newtonian to Einsteinian physics.58 Indeed, it was claimed that the former was a special case of the latter: Newton’s world is Einstein’s world when not approaching light speed. Here is Kuhn’s summary of the “continuity” argument: Imagine a set of statements, E 1, E2, . . ., En, which together embody the laws of relativity theory. These statements contain variables and parameters representing spatial position, time, rest mass, etc. From them, together with the apparatus of logic and mathematics, is

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deducible a whole set of further statements including some can be checked by observation. . . . This enlarged set of statements is then manipulated to yield a new set, N1, N2, . . ., Nm, which is identical in form with Newton’s laws of motion, the law of gravity, and so on. Apparently Newtonian dynamics has been derived from Einsteinian, subject to a few limiting conditions.59 Despite its prima facie plausibility, Kuhn argues that this account misses the fundamental shift that has occurred in the transition between scientific theories, and that the nominal identity of the terms obscures an underlying conceptual rupture: The variables and parameters that in the Einsteinian Ei’s represented spatial position, time, mass, etc., still occur in the Ni’s; and they there still represent Einsteinian space, time, and mass. But the physical referents of these Einsteinian concepts are by no means identical with those of the Newtonian concepts that bear the same name. (Newtonian mass is conserved; Einsteinian is convertible with energy. Only at low relative velocities may the two be measured in the same way, and even then they must not be conceived to be the same.) . . . Just because it did not involve the introduction of additional objects or concepts, the transition from Newtonian to Einsteinian mechanics illustrates with particular clarity the scientific revolution as a displacement of the conceptual network through which scientists view the world.60 Terminological continuity, Kuhn argues, is often a natural outgrowth of the scientific process, since the new paradigm begins to crystallize when its authors find that they cannot resolve difficulties in the previous paradigm—the one in which they had been trained. New paradigms “ordinarily incorporate much of the vocabulary and apparatus, both conceptual and manipulative, that the traditional paradigm had previously employed,” so that it is incumbent upon the historian of science to offer an exacting analysis of this vocabulary as part of the broader conceptual framework in which it is embedded and from which it draws its meaning. New theories may draw on the terminological reserves of their predecessors, but “they seldom employ these borrowed elements in quite the traditional way. Within the new paradigm, old terms, concepts, and experiments fall into new relationships one with the other.”61 By introducing Kuhn’s notion of semantic incommensurability I intend to highlight the fact that I am after something different from the familiar



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terminological distinctions between the schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva (Ishmaelian shomeʿa ʾani versus Akivan yekhol and the like);62here, it is a matter of conceptual incommensurability despite terminological identity within tannaitic sources.63 The analogy to scientific terminology also emphasizes the technical nature of these midrashic terms. The difference between hears and heart is not akin to the natural language ambiguity of the phrase “good hands,” which can refer to the hands of a skilled masseuse or to the cards dealt a player over the course of a poker game, and whose proper understanding will be determined by the context of the utterance.64 As with their scientific counterparts, the meaning of the incommensurable rabbinic couplets is decoupled from ordinary usage and determined by the theoretical schemata in which each element is embedded. An analogue is a mathematician who, when asked whether parallel lines meet, would first need to ascertain whether the relevant framework is Euclidean or non-Euclidean (more specifically, elliptic) geometry, as the answer will be negative for the former but positive for the latter. The word “parallel” has one set of attributes in one type of geometry and another set in another type, with the result that some statements concerning parallel e (Euclidean) and parallelne (non-Euclidean) are incommensurable. The same is true of the rabbinic question “have you heard?” To properly respond, the speaker will need first to ascertain whether the question refers to “hearing” as the reception of traditions, hearingt, or to “hearing” as derivation from Scripture, hearings. Of course, the analogy is not perfect. One obvious difference is that Kuhn is concerned with diachronic change—the collapse of one conceptual network and the emergence of its successor—whereas my analysis has focused on roughly synchronic tannaitic sources. Moreover, I am running Kuhn’s argument backward, so to speak. For Kuhn, the chasm separating the pre- and postrevolutionary paradigm serves as the starting point that marks the problematic nature of terminological continuity across paradigms. My starting point is the semantic incommensurability of identical terms, and, drawing on Kuhn’s notion of paradigms, I am suggesting that this incommensurability points to a deeper conceptual chasm within tannaitic sources than is usually admitted.65

Marginalization and Conflict There are, then, clear indications of two authorization models coexisting within tannaitic literature, and passages that indicate that the rabbis were aware of this division. This division does not imply broad-based resistance to

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Scripture as such, as the Bible remains a recognized source of authority for champions of extra-scriptural tradition. The division between the two ideologies is, in this regard, asymmetrical: scripturalists may be ambivalent about extra-scriptural traditions, but the sages committed to extra-scriptural traditions remain committed to Scripture. Even for their fiercest advocates, halakhot complement Scripture; they do not displace it completely. Still, Sifra derashot repeatedly refer to the priority of extra-scriptural traditions: biblical verses must be interpreted “in keeping with the words of the sages” and “as per the words of the sages,” for they are intended to “sustain the words of the sages.”66 Peaceful coexistence of Scripture and halakhot is possible, claims the oral-traditional party, so long as the primacy of the latter is recognized and Scripture does not encroach on halakhot. When the primacy of extra-scriptural traditions is not recognized, conflict ensues, as in the oft-cited debate between Hillel and Bnai Batira in y. Pesaḥim 6.1, 33a, in which Hillel offers a series of midrashic arguments as to why the paschal offering overrides the Sabbath; these fail to sway his interlocutors, who accept his position only when he states that he has received this ruling from his masters.67 Urbach is surely right to state that the passage evinces “a principled resistance to midrash as a basis for legal decision.”68 It is also a clear example of the limits of the conflict. Bnai Batira are not opposed to Scripture per se (the paschal sacrifice is based almost entirely on biblical law), but they are concerned about a possible encroachment onto a legal position about which there exists a received halakhah. Hillel has both scriptural arguments and an oral-traditional claim (“Thus I received from my masters”), and Bnai Batira are swayed only by the latter. So, too, with the debate between Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah and Rabbi Akiva discussed in Chapter 6 (§6.7). Rabbi Akiva interprets Leviticus 7:12 to mean that the thanksgiving offering requires half a log of oil. Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah vehemently rejects this argument on the grounds that it employs midrash, even though its conclusion is correct: “Even if you argue that ‘with oil’ excludes, or that ‘with oil’ includes from morning until night—I won’t accept your argument. Rather a half-log of oil for thanksgiving offerings . . . is halakhah from Moses at Sinai.” What is at stake for Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah is Rabbi Akiva’s claims of legitimacy for a midrashic argument, when an established extra-scriptural tradition exists regarding that matter.69 The opposite, scripturalist, view is attested in Rabbi Ishmael’s strict delimitation of the scope and currency of extra-scriptural halakhot: “‘You shall take an awl’ (Deut. 15:17): This was the source of Rabbi Ishmael’s saying: In



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three places, extra-scriptural tradition [halakhah] circumvents Scripture: the Torah says: ‘He shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth’ (Lev. 17:13) while the halakhah says: ‘With anything that grows plants’; the Torah says: ‘He writes her a document of divorce’ (Deut. 24:1) while the halakhah says: ‘[He may write] on anything that was separated from the ground’; the Torah says ‘With an awl’” (Sifre Deuteronomy §122, Finkelstein 180). As I have argued in detail elsewhere, this derashah indicates that there are only three halakhot that circumvent Scripture,70 which is tantamount to asserting that there are only three instances in which extra-scriptural tradition serves as an independent source of legal authority. By limiting the number of independent halakhot to three, the derashah radically marginalizes the role of extra-scriptural tradition, acknowledging its legitimacy in only a bare minimum of instances.71 How different is the Mishnah’s frank admission that whole areas of rabbinic law entail “minimal biblical grounding but many halakhot [miqraʾ muʿat ve-halakhot merubbot]” (m. Ḥagigah 1.8).

Authority in Flux: Midrash ha-Shemuʿah One of the most interesting phenomena in the study of language contact is the formation of so-called mixed or intertwined languages, which “arise as a result of a combination of special sociolinguistic circumstances with semiconscious efforts to ‘create a language,’ in which different parts of grammar and lexicon come from different languages.”72 Such languages involve a split in which their syntax is genetically tied to one language but their lexicon to another.73 I believe that the ongoing contact between the scripturalist and oral-traditional authority models yields a similar hybrid: interpretations that apply midrashic terminology to received traditions—that is, derashot that incorporate the “lexicon” of halakhot into the syntax of midrash. Since the phrase midrash halakhah is spoken for, I will refer to this phenomenon as midrash ha-shemuʿah. The need for midrashic interpretation of received traditions is asserted, inter alia, in m. Parah 1.1: “R. Eliezer says: ‘The red heifer must be one year old; and . . . [not more than] two years old.’ . . . R. Yehoshua said: ‘I have never heard that any [was valid] save a “three-year-old” [sheloshit].’ They said to him: ‘Why do you use the term sheloshit?’ He said to them: ‘Thus have I heard it but without explanation.’ Ben Azzai said: ‘I will explain it [ʾani ʾafaresh].’” Rabbi Yehoshua transmits an oral tradition containing an unusual term (sheloshit) but cannot justify it because he received it without explanation

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(stam). Upon hearing this tradition, Ben Azzai volunteers lefaresh, “to explain” or “to explicate.” The contrast established in this mishnah between the stam and the meforash, the stated-without-explanation and the explicated, is commonly applied to biblical verses in legal midrash.74 The Mishnah indicates that, at least in some instances, oral traditions were not merely handed down from master to disciple but interpreted, much like Scripture. Indeed, the midrashist and the recipient of oral traditions may face identical interpretive problems, as we see in m. Pesaḥim 9.6: “R. Yehoshua said: ‘I have heard a tradition that a substitute for the Passover offering can be offered [as an offering of well-being], and also, that a substitute for the Passover offering cannot be offered, but I cannot explain.’ Rabbi Akiva said: ‘I will explain it.’” Rabbi Yehoshua’s problem—two oral traditions contradict each other— leads him to aporia (“I cannot explain”), which Rabbi Akiva resolves through interpretation, a technique similar to the midrashic resolution of contradictory verses via a local argument or by recourse to a third verse.75 We have also seen, in Chapter 5, that Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua apply qol va-ḥomer [“inference from the lesser to the greater”] arguments to received tradition when Rabbi Akiva presents a query and they respond: “We have not heard, but have heard [a related tradition] and we consider this an inference from the lesser to the greater [qol va-ḥomer]” (m. Keritot 3.7). The tone of these passages suggests that all present are familiar with the terminology and its application, so there is no reason to believe that the practice of midrash ha-shemuʿah itself is novel. Such arguments were likely part and parcel of the oral-traditional model, and there may be evidence of their relative antiquity from the Dead Sea Scrolls. As discussed above,76 the authors of the Scrolls repeatedly attack their opponents—by broad scholarly consensus, the Pharisees—as dorshe ḥalaqot, a phrase widely viewed as a play on dorshe halakhot. It is possible—and fairly compelling, from a linguistic perspective—that dorshe halakhot refers to those who engage in midrash ha-shemuʿah, that is, who are literally offering midrashic interpretations (which, per the Scrolls, should be reserved for Scripture) of extra-scriptural halakhot.77 But even if the practice itself is venerable, tannaitic sources reflect varying positions regarding the legitimacy and the scope of midrash ha-shemuʿah’s application. Some sages view lacunae and contradictions in the received traditions as aporias (“I cannot explain”), while their colleagues try to interpret away the difficulties. Rabbi Tarfon, an inveterate skeptic when it comes to Rabbi Akiva’s scriptural interpretations, accepts Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation of received traditions (“I will amend [this halakhah] so that the words of the



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Sages shall be sustained”) without comment.78 Other sages, in contrast, voice opposition to the interpretation of halakhot: Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Nahunia ben Elinatan of Kefar ha-Bavli testified that the [smallest] member of a corpse is unclean, concerning which Rabbi Eliezer says: “[The earlier authorities] said this only regarding the member of a living being.” They said to him: “Is it not qol va-ḥomer [an inference from the lesser to the greater]?—if a member severed from a living being (who is clean) is unclean, how much more should a member severed from a corpse (which is unclean) be unclean.” He said to them: “They said this only regarding the member of a living being.” (m. ʿEduyot 6.2)

The Mishnah records a single halakhah, transmitted jointly by Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Nahunia ben Elinatan of Kefar ha-Bavli, that limbs severed from corpses are ritually unclean. Rabbi Eliezer comments that, in fact, the tradition in question does not refer to the case of corpses but only to limbs severed from living beings. His interlocutors counter that their initial statement follows from the original premise by qol va-ḥomer: if a limb severed from a (ritually pure) living being is impure, how much the more will a limb severed from a (ritually impure) corpse be impure. But Rabbi Eliezer does not engage this logical argument; he merely repeats his assertion: “They said this only regarding the member of a living being.” In other words, Rabbi Eliezer does not claim that the qol va-ḥomer argument is logically flawed, since that is beside the point. The original dictum is authoritative; its qol va-ḥomer expansion—whether sound or unsound—is not. Resistance to midrash ha-shemuʿah is also found in the Sifre Zutaʾ,79 where Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer engage in a very long and complicated dialectical argument as to whether a stone that seals a burial cave (golel) transmits impurity when carried. At the end of the discussion, Rabbi Shimon the brother of Azariah says: “Why are you engaged in dialectical argument [lamah ʾatem danim], when I have heard that it transmits impurity?” In other words, he has a secure tradition regarding the matter—what need is there for din?

Authority in Crisis: Midrash Somekh The existence of midrash offered in support of halakhot—ex post facto scriptural argumentation known as midrash somekh—is amply attested in tannaitic

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sources and has been encountered repeatedly in this study. The ancillary status of midrash is evident, for example, in the demand that an interpretation “sustain the words of the sages” and in Rabbi Tarfon’s praise of Rabbi Akiva’s ability to “explicate and agree” with the halakhah that he, Rabbi Tarfon, had earlier received. And it is evident in Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s concern that “a future generation will declare the third-level loaf pure, since it is not scriptural,” a concern now allayed, since “Rabbi Akiva adduced a scriptural prooftext for its impurity.” The received halakhah suffices for those, like Rabban Yohanan and Rabbi Yehoshua, who accept its authority—Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation is merely ex post facto support intended for those seeking scriptural support. As noted in this chapter’s opening survey, the concept of midrash somekh is a fixture of the nineteenth- and twentieth-century academic study of rabbinic interpretation, with several scholars characterizing tannaitic midrash in these terms. I have already mentioned Hoffmann and Epstein in this regard,80 and the thesis was defended more recently by Avraham Goldberg’s claim that “early midrash” is a mere juxtaposition of received tradition and biblical verse with no attendant authorization claim, for “the tanna . . . does not offer scriptural ‘proof ’ but rather uses the Bible to facilitate the presentation of the account.”81 What these scholars have failed to recognize is the tension at the very heart of midrash somekh, inasmuch as it simultaneously affirms and denies the authority of extra-scriptural halakhah. Consider, by way of illustration, Urbach’s above-cited assertion that “matters rooted in Scripture and its interpretation by the scribes were recognized as halakhically binding only insofar as the derashot corroborated and sustained rulings, attestations, and exemplary deeds already accepted by the sages.”82 The conceptual difficulty here lies in Urbach’s claim that a legal position can be “accepted by the sages,” yet stand in need of scriptural support. Urbach is trying to have his cake and eat it, too: scriptural support is required, but only to buttress what is already established through received tradition. Mi-mah nafsakh? If the legal position is already accepted, there is no need to buttress it; if it needs to be buttressed, then it is not already accepted. There is, moreover, a deeper, structural paradox at the heart of midrash somekh. Halakhot are meaningful sources of legal authority only insofar as they are extra-­ scriptural; in what sense, then, can Scripture offer support? Especially in light of the frankly ex post facto nature of the midrash, that is, when the rabbinic interpreter does not claim that an independent scriptural argument happens to agree with the halakhah, but rather that the midrash exists from the outset to buttress the received tradition.



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Phrased differently, previous scholars have failed to appreciate that both the concept and practice of midrash somekh are born of a crisis in the status of extra-scriptural halakhot. This, too, is fairly explicit in Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai’s lament that “a future generation will declare the third-level loaf pure, since it is not scriptural [she-loʾ min ha-torah].”83 He is not concerned that the adherents of oral tradition will waver in their commitment to the ruling, but rather that “a future generation” will require a midrashic argument. Why would this need arise? Implicitly, the future generation will not be committed to the oral-traditional model. As the Tosefta plainly states: “The words of the Torah do not require buttressing, but the words of the scribes require buttressing [ḥizuq].”84 Though not stated explicitly, it is likely the rising religious prestige of scriptural interpretation threatening oral-traditional ­authority.

The Rise of Interpretation The rabbinic shift toward scriptural religious authority is congruent with the increased prestige of literacy in Second Temple and post-70 Judaism, a topic that Albert Baumgarten has surveyed with admirable clarity.85 Baumgarten demonstrates that First Temple discussions of education generally understand it to occur within the family, through the medium of oral instruction (for example, the father recounting to his children the story of the Exodus). Over the course of the Persian and Hellenistic periods, however, a gradual transformation occurs, as religious instruction is increasingly understood in terms of written transmission:86 the patriarch Levi pseudepigraphically exhorts his descendants to “teach your children letters also, so that they might have understanding throughout their lives as they ceaselessly read the law of God”; 2 Maccabees extols Jerusalem’s library, inviting Alexandria’s Jews to frequent it; and Josephus explicitly invokes literacy as a component of Jewish education: “The Law orders that children shall be taught to read and shall learn both the laws and the deeds of their forefathers.”87 Baumgarten’s social-historical analysis is complemented by Hindy Najman’s discussion of the rise of writing as a source of religious authority.88 Najman demonstrates that the orality of early prophecy is gradually supplemented with—and, in some cases, replaced by—a textual approach to revelation. God commands the prophets to write down the divine instruction (Hab. 2:2–3; Jer. 17:1–4 and 36:1–8; Ezek. 4:1–3, and so on), and some of the prophetic visions

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involve written texts, as when Ezekiel is commanded to eat a scroll (Ezek. 3:1–3) and Zechariah beholds a scroll flying across the earth (Zech. 5:1–4). The Book of Jubilees places particular emphasis on the written nature of divine instruction, repeatedly describing biblical figures (Enoch, Noah, the Patriarchs, and others) as scribes or as having received God’s word through the medium of a book. It is worth noting in brief that a similar dynamic is at work in the pagan world, as writing plays an increasingly important role in human intercourse with the gods. A key element in this change is the establishment of a fixed Homeric text and the emergent understanding of Homer, who, in the centuries spanning the turn of the Common Era, came to be viewed as a theologos and his epics as repositories of wisdom, such that the resulting interpretive traditions—scholiast, Stoic, and Neoplatonic—“departed extraordinarily from the most obvious meaning, transforming the poems into revelations concerning the nature of the universe and the fate of souls.”89 Furthermore, while classical pagan oracles were thoroughly oral, Mary Beard has identified a broad shift in the second and third centuries ce, as writing gains new prominence.90 The textualization of revelation is also found in oracular practices, sortes Vergilianae and sortes Homericae, which involve the consultation of the Aeneid and the Iliad: the work’s verses were numbered and dice cast to identify which verses represented the gods’ response to the supplicant’s question.91 Indeed, pseudo-Plutarch wonders at the end of De Homero, “How then could we possibly not attribute every virtue to Homer, those who have come after him have even found in his poetry all the things he did not himself think to include? Some use his poetry for divination, just like the oracles of gods.”92 Similar in nature are the sortes Astrampsychi, attributed to the Egyptian priest Astrampsychos, discussed by David Frankfurter in some detail.93 Concurrent with these broader trends in the pagan and Jewish worlds, the increased prestige of writing left its mark in the rabbinic movement. The publication of the Mishnah, though prima facie a sign of the vitality of oraltraditional authority, was also a key moment in its decline. The establishment of a single, authorized corpus of halakhot at once imbued the collected traditions with great authority and undermined the oral-traditional model itself— for, once “canonized” (even if only in a loose sense), halakhot no longer functioned as links in a still-vital chain of transmission. They became Scripture-like objects of interpretive scrutiny, a process that Elizabeth Shanks ­A lexander refers to as the “scripturalization” of the Mishnah.94 There is also a geographic element at play, as the oral-traditional authority model found in



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the ascendant rabbinic center of Babylonia a less hospitable environment. The Babylonian sages were not—and could not represent themselves as being— links in the Palestinian chains of transmission. Mishnah ʾAvot, after all, leads to the Palestinian patriarchate and, implicitly, to their disciples, who are overwhelmingly Palestinian.95 The Babylonian Talmud bears witness to the struggle between oral-traditional and scriptural authority. Thus, the latter is affirmed every time the Talmud cites a tannaitic legal tradition and asks, mena hanei milei? or menalan? (“Whence do we learn these matters?” “Whence is this [established] for us?”), and then offers a biblical verse as the putative source for the tannaitic dictum. From a legal-traditional point of view, the Talmud’s question is nonsensical. How can you cite the legal teaching of, say, Rabbi Meir, and then ask “Whence do we know this”? For the Mishnah, the answer is self-evident—it is a legal teaching transmitted by Rabbi Meir. There may be conflicting traditions or questions regarding the fidelity of transmission, but the authority of the tradition as such does not require (nor does the Mishnah typically provide) biblical support. To assume otherwise—to search for underlying scriptural justification—is to implicitly deny the authority of the received dictum and of the broader oraltraditional claims that undergird it. The casual self-evidence with which the Bavli sets out to uncover the scriptural basis of tannaitic halakhot bespeaks a fundamentally scripturalist assumption of these phrases. Elsewhere, the scripturalist position is accompanied by open hostility to the opposing view. Rabbi Judah the son of Ilay glosses Isaiah 66:5 (“Hear the word of the Lord, you who tremble at his word: Your own people who hate you and reject you”) as follows: “‘You who tremble at his word’—these are the sages; ‘Your own people’—these are the masters of Scripture [baʿale miqraʾ]; ‘Who hate . . . you’—these are masters of mishnah [baʿale mishnah]” (b. Baba Metziaʿh 33b). According to Rabbi Judah, then, the masters of Scripture are God’s own people, while the masters of mishnah are the referent of “who hate . . . you.”96 But the opposite view also finds expression, as in the exchange between Rabbi Akiva and his students that concludes with the assertion that “all the Torah is a tradition that was handed to Moses at Sinai.”97 And here too we find overt hostility: “One who has read Scripture but not recited mishnah [qaraʾ ve-loʾ shanah]—behold this is an ʿam ha-ʾaretz” (b. Soṭah 22a). The epigraph to Chapter 4 cited two views as to the meaning of the term mishnah: “Rabbi Meir says: ‘halakhot’; Rabbi Judah says: ‘midrash’” (b. Qiddushin 49a). This brief survey of post-tannaitic sources suggests that this debate was very much alive in this later period.98

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The Confusion of the Sifra I have surveyed these developments because I believe that the ascendant prestige of Scripture finds expression in both the tannaitic and anonymous strata of the Sifra, but in profoundly different ways. The tannaitic practitioners of midrash somekh shared many of the assumptions and practices of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim. As Chapter 6’s analysis of Rabbi Akiva’s interpretive techniques demonstrated, he is attentive to Scripture, anchoring his derashot in textual irregularities or in terms such as kol (“all” or “every”); he employs midrashic terms (ha-katuv, “why was this stated?” “it has already been stated”) in the same sense as the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim; and he employs intertextual arguments—­ adducing one verse as an intertext to another. It is true that Rabbi Akiva occasionally pressed his inclusion arguments beyond what Scripture could reasonably support, and provoked the ire of his colleagues in the process. But these flareups only confirm the rule-governed nature of tannaitic midrash—when Rabbi Akiva violates accepted hermeneutic principles, other sages take him to task. The named derashot of the Sifra and the Mishnah maintain these interpretive practices even as they acknowledge the legitimacy and even priority of extrascriptural legal traditions: Legal traditions are cited in the name of a sage, and there are repeated references to testimonies (ʿeduyot), decrees (taqannot), “the words of the scribes,” and “the words of the sages”; interpretations are praised for agreeing with halakhah, required “to sustain the words of the sages,” and rejected on the grounds that its conclusion is already known by halakhah lemoshe mi-sinai. This is likely the reason the Sifra’s tannaitic derashot are clustered around verses that were the subject of controversy, and so stood in need of scriptural support. In the tannaitic sources, then, we find a fairly uniform employment of interpretive terms in the service of different and arguably incompatible authorization models. Not so the anonymous Sifra, which never refers to extrascriptural traditions—no testimonies (ʿeduyot), no decrees (taqannot), no “words of the scribes” or “words of the sages,” no statements to the effect that midrash is ancillary to received halakhot; even the term “halakhah” is absent from the anonymous Sifra.99 The tannaitic binary, which recognized both scriptural and extra-scriptural authority,100 now admits but one member: Scripture. Solely on the basis of terminology, the anonymous Sifra is midrashic through and through. Why the shift? Both the dating and the location of the anonymous Sifra are uncertain, making it difficult to provide a precise historical context.101



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Whatever the underlying causes, the anonymous Sifra’s terminology makes it clear that extra-scriptural tradition is, for all intents and purposes, no longer a viable source of authority. And yet, as I argued in Part I of the present study, the interpretive arguments of the stam are, in fact, superficial reworkings of received halakhot. In a sense, the anonymous Sifra continues the project of midrash somekh, providing scriptural support for halakhot. But the project has grown far more radical. For while ex post facto derashot do not challenge the extra-scriptural status of the halakhot, the anonymous Sifra must argue that all legal rulings are derived from Scripture from the outset—that they are midrashically constituted rather than midrashically supported. Alongside the elevated interpretive challenge, the Sifra faces a temporal one. For a ruling will not gain authority if it were evident that (as is in fact the case) the “midrashization” is belated, superimposed onto tannaitic halakhot. So it becomes imperative that the anonymous Sifra present the ruling as ab initio midrashic—to formulate a midrashic idiom flexible enough to reframe the extra-scriptural halakhot, but familiar enough to obscure the novelty of the enterprise.102 Toward this end, the anonymous Sifra develops its hermeneutic of camouflage, recalibrating key tannaitic terms so as to allow for the incorporation of halakhot. Thus, hermeneutic markers that Rabbi Akiva uses in very particular scriptural contexts (the emphatic huʾ in the marked pattern of Leviticus 23; the fourfold repetition of ʾish in Lev. 22:4–6) are detached from their original semantic and syntactic contexts and used as markers that authorize interpretation irrespective of context.103 The Sifra also peppers its derashot with tannaitic formulas grown from the soil of hermeneutic markedness— “What is the instruction?” “If so, why is this stated?” and “What meaning do I establish?”—although these serve no interpretive function in their new environment. “Behold, these are markers of exclusion,” the Sifra declares, directing the reader’s attention to its rhetoric of markedness, even as it dismantles the hermeneutic ideology that undergirds this concept. The revisionist genius of the Sifra shines most brilliantly in the way it draws on the terminological reserves of tannaitic midrash, while radically altering the sense of these terms. In the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, “On the basis of this they said” (mikan ʾamru) footnotes Mishnah passages that either cite, or can plausibly be understood as alluding to, a biblical prooftext. In the Sifra, the same formula becomes a polemical tool, wrenching mishnayot out of their oral-traditional context and recasting them as midrashic, even when this contradicts the Mishnah’s explicit authority claims or results in in­ comprehensible derashot. The phrases ribbah ha-katuv and miʿeṭ ha-katuv no

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longer refer to the expansive or delimited manner, respectively, by which the Bible characterizes a topic; the anonymous Sifra transforms them into cornerstones of its midrashic rhetoric, casting Scripture as the interpretive agent producing inclusion and exclusion glosses. Finally, the intertextual approach of both Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Akiva—the notion that a verse can illuminate the meaning of another and its meaning be similarly illuminated—is surreptitiously discarded. The terminology is, once again, lifted from tannaitic sources: “whence” (minayin) and “might it be” (yakhol), both answered by “Scripture teaches, saying . . .” (talmud lomar). But where tannaitic talmud lomar introduces a new, illuminating verse, the anonymous Sifra’s talmud lomar cites the opening verse again. As a result, “whence . . . Scripture teaches” becomes nothing more than a rhetorically ornate ribbui gloss, “might it be . . . Scripture teaches” an ornate miʿuṭ gloss, and the derashah reduced to structural solipsism. So too with din, mikan ʾamru, and many others. The enterprise of the anonymous Sifra, it must be said, reeks of desperation. But it is a desperation born of love for and commitment to a corpus of religious precepts that, our editor fears, stand at the brink of extinction. The anonymous Sifra has no choice: it is willing to pay the price of midrashic vacuity, semantic discontinuity, irregular terminology, and the myriad paradoxes and inconsistencies surveyed in this book. It is willing to pay any price, really, to preserve the extra-scriptural halakhot that it fears may be lost forever if it cannot, improbably, convince its readers that they originate in Scripture.104

Conclusion

Rabbi Akiva and the Ironic Triumph of Midrash

Scholars generally think that you can work on the history of the text, or on its rhetoric. What is important to understand is that rhetoric has a history. —Daniel Boyarin1

The figure of Rabbi Akiva looms large in this study—more accurately, the two figures of Rabbi Akiva: the one whom Rabbi Tarfon lauds for his ability to “explicate and agree with the oral tradition,” and the one of whom the same tanna states, “things concealed from men, you, Rabbi Akiva, brought forth to light.” The failure to distinguish between these two Rabbi Akivas has led to considerable difficulties, as scholars have sought to force the square peg of tannaitic Rabbi Akiva through the round hole of his post-tannaitic image. Thus, even as Urbach brilliantly argued that Rabbi Akiva’s ex post facto midrash (“the third loaf”) represented an important stage in the development of scriptural authorization, he described Rabbi Akiva as advocating radically unfettered midrash (ḥofesh ha-derashah ha-qitzoni).2 More recently, Daniel Schwartz has discussed the debate between Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Eliezer in m. Pesaḥim 6.2, in which Rabbi Akiva uses a scriptural analogy (to Num. 19:12) to demonstrate that the paschal offering overrides the Sabbath.3 Rabbi Eliezer objects to the analogy, so Rabbi Akiva offers another analogy, at which point Rabbi Eliezer responds: “Akiva, you have uprooted that which is written in the Torah, [namely] ‘[On the fourteenth day of this month, at twilight, you shall keep (the paschal offering)] at its appointed time’ (Num. 9:3)—whether on a weekday or a ­Sabbath.”4 ­Remarkably, after citing and discussing this mishnah in detail,

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Schwartz concludes that this exchange teaches that “R. Akiba insisted upon a strict interpretation of the text.”5 But Rabbi Akiva is taken to task for uprooting what is written in the Torah—surely a dubious indicator of interpretive rigor. Schwartz’s conclusion is, I suspect, driven more by the later image of Rabbi Akiva than by the text of m. Pesaḥim 6.2. A final example: in his commentary to Sifre Zutaʾ Deut. 24:16,6 Menahem Kahana characterizes Rabbi Akiva as a legal innovator, as indicated by m. Sanhedrin 3.4. “These are the kinsmen [disqualified from bearing witness]: a plaintiff’s father, brother, father’s brother, mother’s brother, sister’s husband, father’s sister’s husband, mother’s sister’s husband, mother’s husband, father-in-law, or wife’s sister’s husband, together with their sons and their sons-in-law. . . Rabbi Yose said: ‘This is the mishnah of Rabbi Akiva, but [according to] mishnah riʾshonah [the first or prior mishnah]: his uncle, his cousin, and all who are qualified to be his heirs, [that is], all who are in kinship with him [kol ha-qarov lo] at that time.’” As Kahana notes, the kinship categories of mishnah riʾshonah are biblical. The paternal uncle and “all who are in kinship with him” (kol ha-qarov lo) echo the inheritance laws in Numbers, according to which inheritance passes first to sons, then to daughters, then to brothers, and “if he has no brothers, then you shall give his inheritance to his father’s brothers. And if his father has no brothers, then you shall give his inheritance to the nearest kinsman [ha-qarev ʾelav] of his clan” (Num. 27:9–11). The uncles and cousins are drawn from Leviticus’s instructions for redeeming indentured servants: “after they have sold themselves, they shall have the right of redemption; one of their brothers may redeem them, or their uncle or their uncle’s son may redeem them, or anyone of their family who is of their own flesh may redeem them” (Lev. 25:48–49). Rabbi Akiva’s inclusion of the wife’s kin, in contrast, has no biblical warrant, and Kahana proposes that Rabbi Akiva’s legal expansion here is tied to two “innovated rulings” (halakhot meḥudashot) of this tanna:7 §10.1“And for the one who is in her menstrual infirmity [nidatah]” (Lev. 15:33): The former elders [zeqenim ha-riʾshonim] said: “Let her remain in her impurity [niddatah]—she should not wear makeup until she immerses herself in water.” Until Rabbi Akiva came and taught: “It became a matter of hostility and he wishes to divorce her.” (Metzoraʿ pereq 9.12, Weiss 79c; TK 335). And:

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The House of Shammai says: “A man may not divorce his wife unless he has found unchastity in her, as it is written ‘because he found something objectionable about her’” (Deut. 24:1). The House of Hillel says: “Even if she spoiled a dish for him, as it is written ‘because he found something objectionable about her.’” Rabbi Akiva says: “Even if he found another woman more beautiful than she, as it is written ‘but she does not please him.’” (Deut. 24:1) (m. Gittin 9.10)8 After analyzing the three sources, Kahana concludes: “It is possible, then, that the three innovated derashot [derashot meḥudashot] of Rabbi Akiva—the mightiest of midrashists [ha-gibbor she-ba-darshanim] who argued against the first (or former) mishnah, against ‘the former elders,’ and apparently against the ancient legislation of both the House of Shammai and the House of Hillel—constitute a single argument that reconfigures marital life.”9 For our purposes, it is not the content of Rabbi Akiva’s teachings that is important, but Kahana’s characterization of this sage. Note the terminological drift in Kahana’s exposition, as “innovated rulings” (halakhot meḥudashot)10 become “innovated derashot” (derashot meḥudashot), implying that Rabbi Akiva’s teachings are anchored in Scripture, a point Kahana drives home by referring to Rabbi Akiva as “the mightiest of midrashists.” But nothing in the cited passages supports this claim. Of the three, only one, m. Gittin, contains a scriptural argument: Rabbi Akiva interprets Deuteronomy 24:1, and in this follows in the footsteps of both the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai, both of which cite the same verse. Sifra Metzoraʿ says only that Rabbi Akiva “came and taught,” with no reference to midrash. And in m. Sanhedrin, it is mishnat rabbi ʿaqiva, “an oral tradition of Rabbi Akiva,” that contravenes the earlier ruling. But pace Kahana, only the “former mishnah”—the ruling that Rabbi Akiva rejects—is based on the language of Scripture! On what basis, then, does Kahana characterize Rabbi Akiva’s argument as innovative midrash? Like a massive star whose gravitational field draws light off its course, the post-tannaitic Rabbi Akiva (who is indeed “the greatest of midrashists”) distorts the image of his tannaitic namesake.11 But is it not baffling that Rabbi Akiva undergoes this transformation? That he comes to be identified as the interpreter who is able to reveal the secrets of Torah? I have argued that tannaitic literature is more deeply divided on the role and status of biblical interpretation than has been previously recognized, with Rabbi Ishmael championing a scripturalist approach, while

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Rabbi Akiva’s midrash often serves the ancillary role of “sustaining the words of the sages.” Why, then, is Rabbi Akiva, rather than Rabbi Ishmael, the ­midrashic hero of later sources? Should the positions not be reversed? The Rezeptionsgeschichte of a figure such as Rabbi Akiva can never be reduced to a single principle. But to the extent that hermeneutic considerations played a part, two factors should be noted. One involves the less rigorous demands of ex post facto interpretation, as ancillary derashot carry a much lighter hermeneutic burden than do constitutive derashot. Of course, such derashot can still provide brilliant insights into Scripture, and I argued at length in Chapter 6 that Rabbi Akiva’s Sifra derashot are much more sophisticated and attentive to Scripture than is usually recognized. All the same, the fact that these derashot need only claim to support—rather than create— legal rulings allows for a degree of hermeneutic freedom not found in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.12 Perhaps at some point the category of ex post facto midrash ceased to be operative and later rabbinic readers came to understand Rabbi Akiva’s derashot—less regimented because originally meant to support rather than create rabbinic law—as constitutive midrash. If so, these later readers may have understood Rabbi Akiva to be legislating on the basis of the letter vav, or of a repeated root, or of the phrase ʾish ʾish, and consequently came to the conclusion that he possessed remarkable, almost superhuman, interpretive powers. I do not think this explanation holds for the anonymous Sifra, whose reworking of the tannaitic interpretive lexicon strikes me as too sly and too self-conscious to be anything but a conscious stratagem. But even here the greater hermeneutic laxity of Rabbi Akiva’s midrash somekh is better suited to the expansive project of the anonymous Sifra than is Rabbi Ishmael’s strict scripturalism. Rabbi Akiva’s status as interpretive outlier and frequent target of attacks for his promiscuous midrash further strengthens his image as radical interpreter. A second possible factor in the post-tannaitic elevation of Rabbi Akiva involves the broader Jewish cultural context. In Chapter 9, I discussed the different ideal types associated with the scripturalist versus oral-traditional authority models, and noted that the former hinges on literacy: the ability to read Torah, to learn its ways, to apply various interpretive techniques, and so on. In Second Temple literature, these skills, and literacy more broadly, were associated with the priestly elite, and there is considerable evidence that tannaitic and post-tannaitic sources linked Rabbi Ishmael to priestly traditions. If the shift that I have outlined toward a more dominant scriptural-midrashic authority occurred in circles that did not identify with priestly authority, it

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would not be surprising if they sought a tannaitic figure who could bear the standard of midrash without being associated with the priestly elite. Not Rabbi Ishmael, then, but his frequent interlocutor. Not coincidentally, Rabbi Akiva’s aggadic biography in the Bavli effects a disassociation from the priesthood, as the two most prominent elements in these accounts—Rabbi Akiva’s poverty and his ignorance early in life—mark him as a master of midrash who does not, could not, emerge from elite circles. If so, we can see how the hermeneutics of camouflage of the anonymous Sifra combines with the biographical narratives of the Talmud in effecting a remarkable revision within the rabbinic corpus, one that has enjoyed a breathtaking level of historical success. ad kan

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‫‪Appendix: Hebr ew Sources‬‬

‫‪The following texts reproduce the Hebrew original of the passages from the‬‬ ‫‪Sifra (MS Assemani 66) and the Mishnah (MS Kaufmann) that are quoted in‬‬ ‫‪) are‬מקרא( ‪translation in the body of this book. Verses in SBL Hebrew font‬‬ ‫‪) is used for the Sifra and Mishnah. {Braced} words in‬ספרא( ‪biblical; David‬‬ ‫]‪the Sifra citations are marginal or interlinear in Assemani 66; [bracketed‬‬ ‫‪words in biblical passages are not cited in the manuscript but provide a fuller‬‬ ‫‪understanding of the verse. Sources indicated with an “N” refer to the pas‬‬‫‪sage in the corresponding endnote.‬‬ ‫§‪ 1.1‬ואותה והיא הרי אילו מיעוטין‬ ‫§‪ 1.2‬ואם מן הצאן קרבנו מן הכשבים או מן העזים (ויקרא א‪ ,‬י)‪ :‬מן הצאן ומן‬ ‫הכשבים ומן העזים הרי אילו מיעוטים‬ ‫§‪ 1.3‬זאת תורת העלה ִהוא העלה ‪( . . .‬ויקרא ו‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬תל’ לו’ זאת היא העלה הרי‬ ‫אילו מיעוטין‬ ‫§‪ 1.4‬כי את חזה התנופה ואת שוק התרומה לקחתי מאת בני ישראל מזבחי‬ ‫שלמיהם ואתן אתם לאהרן הכהן ולבניו לחק עולם מאת בני ישראל (ויקרא ז‪,‬‬ ‫לד)‪ :‬חזה זה חזה תנופה זו תנופת הסל שוק זה השוק תרומת זו תרומת תודה‬ ‫§‪ 1.5‬וכפר את מקדש הקדש ואת אהל מועד ואת המזבח יכפר ועל הכהנים ועל‬ ‫כל עם הקהל יכפר (ויקרא טז‪ ,‬לג)‪ :‬וכפר את מקדש הקודש זה לפני לפנים אוהל‬ ‫מועד זה ההיכל המזבח זה המזבח יכפר אף לעזרות הכהנים אילו הכהנים עם‬ ‫הקהל אילו ישראל יכפר אף ללוים‬ ‫§‪ 1.6‬והבאת את המנחה אשר יעשה מאלה לה’ והקריבה אל הכהן והגישה אל‬ ‫המזבח (ויקרא ב‪ ,‬ח)‪ :‬והקריבה וג’ יכול אין לי טעון הגשה אילא [ה]קומץ בלבד‬ ‫מניין לרבות את המנחה תל’ לו’ מנחה מניין לרבות כל המנחות תל’ לו’ ואת‬ ‫המנחה‬

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‫§‪ 1.7‬ואת כל חלב פר [החטאת] (ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ח)‪ :‬לרבות חלב פר יום הכפורים לשתי‬ ‫כליות וליותרת הכבד‬ ‫§‪ 1.8‬ואת דמו יזרק על המזבח סביב (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬ומנ’ לדם האשם שניתערב בדם‬ ‫שלמים יזרוק תל’ לו’ קודש קודשים ואת דמו יזרוק‬ ‫§‪ 1.9‬ואל תונו איש את אחיו (ויקרא כה‪ ,‬יד)‪ :‬אין לי אלא איש את איש איש את‬ ‫אשה אשה את איש אשה את אשה מנין תלמוד לומר את אחיו מכל מקום‬ ‫§‪ 1.10‬הפשיט את העלה ונתח אתה לנתחיה (ויקרא א‪ ,‬ו)‪ :‬תל’ לו’ אותה אותה‬ ‫לנתחיה אין נתחיה לניתחיה{ן} יכול אף הפסולה תהא טעונה הפשט ונית{ו}ח תל’‬ ‫לו’ אותה כשירה לא פסולה‬ ‫§‪ 1.11‬וראהו הכהן וטמא אתו (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬וטמא אותו אותו הוא מטמא אינו‬ ‫מטמא את התולש סימני טומאה מתוך ניגעו‬ ‫§‪ 1.12‬ואם פשה תפשה בעור וטמא הכהן אתו נגע הוא (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬כב)‪ :‬וטמא‬ ‫אתו את הוודיי הוא מטמא אינו מטמא את הספק‬ ‫§‪ 1.13‬ואל פתח אהל מועד לא יביאנו לעשות אתו לה’ (ויקרא יז‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬יכול המעלה‬ ‫פחות {מכזית מן העולה פחות} מכזית מן האמורין פחות מכזית מן הקומץ פחות‬ ‫משלושת לוגים מים פחות משלושת לוגים יין יהא חייב תל’ לו’ אתו על השלם הוא‬ ‫חייב אינו חייב על המיקצת‬ ‫§‪ 1.14‬והנה בעור בשרם בהרת כהות לבנת בהק הוא פרח בעור טהור הוא (ויקרא‬ ‫יג‪ ,‬לט)‪ :‬יכול יטהר את הבהרת שיצאת ממנו תל’ לו’ הוא‬ ‫§‪ 1.15‬ואיש איש מבית ישראל ומן הגר הגר בתוכם אשר יאכל כל דם (ויקרא יז‪,‬‬ ‫י)‪ :‬ישראל אילו ישראל גר אילו הגירים הגר לרבות נשי הגירים בתוכם לרבות נשים‬ ‫ועבדים אם כן למה נא’ איש איש אמר ר’ לעזר בירבי שמעון להביא ולד בת ישראל‬ ‫מן הגוי ומן העבד‬ ‫§‪ 1.16‬איש איש מבית ישראל אשר ישחט שור או כשב במחנה או אשר ישחט‬ ‫מחוץ למחנה (ויקרא יז‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬יכול השוחט את החטאת בדרום יהא חייב תל’ לו’‬ ‫מחוץ למחנה‬ ‫§‪ 2.1‬וראה הכהן והנה בעור בשרם בהרת כהות לבנת בהק הוא פרח בעור טהור‬ ‫הוא (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬לט)‪ :‬בוהק טהור מלמד שהבוהק טהור‬

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‫ ‬

‫§‪ 2.2‬את כל ערב למינו (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬כל עורב להביא עורב העמקי ועורב הבא‬ ‫בראש היונים‬ ‫§‪ 2.3‬וזה לכם הטמא בשרץ השרץ על הארץ החלד והעכבר והצב למינהו (ויקרא‬ ‫יא‪ ,‬כט)‪ :‬צב זה הצב למינהו לרבות מיניו שלצב חוורוור ובן הנפלים וסלמנדרה‬ ‫§‪ 2.4‬זאת תורת הבהמה והעוף וכל נפש החיה הרומשת במים (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬מו)‪:‬‬ ‫להביא את הדגים‬ ‫§‪ 2.5‬כל המנחה אשר תקריבו לה’ לא תעשה חמץ כי כל שאר וכל דבש לא‬ ‫תקטירו ממנו אשה לה’ (ויקרא ב‪ ,‬יא)‪ :‬כל המנחה אין לי אלא מנחות ששיריהן‬ ‫נאכלין מנחות שאין שיריהן נאכלין מניין תל’ לו’ כל המנחה אשר תקריבו ליי‬ ‫§‪ 2.6‬וזרקו בני אהרן הכהנים את הדם על המזבח סביב (ויקרא ג‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬בני אהרן‬ ‫יכול חללין תל’ לו’ הכהנים יצאו חללין‪ .‬אוציא חללין ולא אוציא בעלי מומין תל’‬ ‫לו’ בני אהרן מה אהרן כשר אף בניו כשרין יצאו חללין ובעלי מומין‬ ‫ ‬ ‫§‪ 2.7‬אם הכהן המשיח יחטא (ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬משיח יכול זה המלך תל’ לו’ כהן‬ ‫§‪ 2.8‬ואיש איש מבני ישראל ומן הגר הגר בתוכם אשר יצוד ציד חיה או עוף אשר‬ ‫יאכל (ויקרא יז‪ ,‬יג)‪ :‬אין לי אלא עוף נאכל חיה נאכלת מנין תלמוד לומר חיה או עוף‬ ‫אשר יאכל‬ ‫§‪ 2.9‬או איש אשר יגע בכל שרץ אשר יטמא לו או באדם אשר יטמא לו לכל‬ ‫טמאתו (ויקרא כב‪ ,‬ה)‪ :‬אין לי אילא השרץ מנ’ לרבות את הנבילה תל’ לו’ בכל‬ ‫שרץ אשר יטמא לו לרבות את השיעורין אדם זה המת טומאת אדם זה טמא מת‬ ‫טומאתו לרבות זבים וזבות נידות ויולדות אין לי אילא ימי חומרן ימי קולן מנ’ תל’‬ ‫לו’ לכל טומאתו אשר יטמא לרבות בועלי נידה לו לרבות בולע ניבלת העוף הטהור‬ ‫§‪ 2.10‬איש איש מבית ישראל ומן הגר בישראל אשר יקריב קרבנו ‪ . . .‬כל אשר‬ ‫בו מום לא תקריבו (ויקרא כב‪ ,‬יח‪-‬כ)‪ :‬ישראל אילו ישראל גר אילו הגירים הגר‬ ‫לרבות נשי הגירים בישראל לרבות נשים ועבדים אם כן למה נא’ איש איש להביא‬ ‫את הגוים שיהוא נידנים בנדרים ובנדבות כישראל‬ ‫§‪ 2.11‬ואיש איש מבני ישראל ומן הגר הגר בתוכם אשר יצוד ציד חיה או עוף‬ ‫אשר יאכל ושפך את דמו וכסהו בעפר (ויקרא יז‪ ,‬יג)‪ :‬איש לרבות לפי שנאמר‬ ‫אשר יצוד אין לי אלא הצד לקח ירש נתן לו במתנה מנין תלמוד לומר איש איש‬

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‫§‪ 2.12‬איש איש כי יהיה זב מבשרו זובו טמא הוא (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬איש אין לי‬ ‫אילא איש מנ’ לרבות את האשה ואת הקטן תל’ לו’ איש איש דברי ר’ יהודה‬ ‫§‪ 2.13‬איש איש אל כל שאר בשרו לא תקרבו לגלות ערוה (ויקרא יח‪ ,‬ו)‪ :‬איש מה‬ ‫תלמוד לומר איש איש‪ ,‬להביא את הגוים שיהיו מוזהרים על העריות כישראל‬ ‫§‪ 2.14‬כי איש איש אשר יקלל את אביו ואת אמו מות יומת (ויקרא כ‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬איש‬ ‫אין לי אלא איש אשה מנ’ תל’ לו’ כי איש איש‬ ‫§‪ 2.15‬ואל בני ישראל תאמר איש איש מבני ישראל ומן הגר הגר בישראל אשר‬ ‫יתן מזרעו למלך מות יומת (ויקרא כ‪ ,‬ב)‪ . . . :‬אם כן למה נאמר איש איש להביא‬ ‫את הגוים שבאו על עריות האומות שידונו כדיני האומות שבאו על עריות ישראל‬ ‫שידונו כדיני ישראל‬ ‫§‪ 2.16‬איש איש כי יקלל אלהיו ונשא חטאו (ויקרא כד‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬מה תל’ לו’ איש‬ ‫איש להביא את הגוים שיהוא נהרגים על קללת השם כישראל אבל אינן ניהרגין‬ ‫אילא בסייף שלא ניתנה מיתה לבני נח‬ ‫§‪ 2.17‬ואשה כי תהיה זבה (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬יט)‪ :‬אשה פרט לקטנה או יכול שני מוציא‬ ‫בת שלוש שנים ויום אחד תל’ לו’ ואשה‬ ‫§‪ 2.18‬ואשה כי תהיה זבה (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬יט)‪ :‬אין לי אילא אשה גמורה מנ’ לרבות את‬ ‫הקטנה תל’ לו’ ואשה‬ ‫§‪ 2.19‬אם מן הצאן קרבנו מן הכשבים או מן העזים לעלה (ויקרא א‪ ,‬י)‪ :‬רבי‬ ‫{א}לעזר אומר מה תל’ לו’ כבשין לעולה ועיזים לעולה שיכול אין לי שיקרב עולה אלא‬ ‫מותר עולה בלבד מניין {מותר} חטאות מותר אשמות מותר עשרית הא{י}פה מותר‬ ‫קיני זבין קיני זבות קיני {י}ולדות מותר קורבנות נזיר ומצורע והמקדיש נכסיו והיו‬ ‫בהן דברין ראויין לגבי המזבח יינות ושמנים ועופות מנין שימכרו לצריכו אותו המין‬ ‫ויביא בדמיהן עולות תל’ לו’ כבשין לעולה ועיזין לעולה לרבות את כולם‬ ‫§‪ 2.20‬והבגד כי יהיה בו נגע צרעת בבגד צמר או בבגד פשתים (ויקרא יג‪,‬‬ ‫מז)‪ :‬ומנ’ לרבות את הכילאיים תל’ לו’ והבגד אין לי אילא אחד מן המינים‬ ‫הבא במיקצתו ומנ’ לאחד מן המינין הבא בכולו כלאים שבא בכולו כלאים שבא‬ ‫במיקצתו מנ’ תל’ לו’ והבגד אין לי אילא בגד שארג בו שלוש על שלוש בגד שלוא‬ ‫ארג בו שלוש על שלוש מנ’ תל’ לו’ והבגד אין לי אלא בגד שיש לו לאיכן שיפשה בגד‬ ‫שאין לו לאיכן שיפשה מנ’ תל’ לו’ והבגד דברי ר’ אליעזר‬

‫‪217‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪ 2.21‬כל איש אשר בו מום מזרע אהרן הכהן לא יגש להקריב את אשי ה’ (ויקרא‬ ‫כא‪ ,‬כא)‪ :‬מנין {לרבות} הכושי והגיחר והלווקן והכפח והננס והחרש והשוטה‬ ‫והשיכור ובעלי נגעין טהורין תל’ לו’ איש איש ריבה‬ ‫§‪ 2.22‬ואם האכל יאכל מבשר זבח שלמיו ביום השלישי לא ירצה המקריב אתו‬ ‫לא יחשב (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬יח)‪ :‬מנ’ לשנישחטה בלילה ושנשפך דמה ושיצא דמה חוץ‬ ‫לקלעים הלן והיוצא ושנשחט חוץ לזמנו וחוץ למקומו ושקיבלו פסולין וזרקו את‬ ‫דמו הניתנין למטן שנתנן למעלן הניתנין למעלן שנתנן למטן הניתנין בפנים שנתנן‬ ‫בחוץ הניתנין בחוץ שנתנן בפנים הפסח והחטאת ששחטן שלא לשמן תל’ לו’ לא‬ ‫ירצה ולא יחשב ולא יאכל (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬יט)‬ ‫§‪ 2.23‬ונתת עליה שמן ושמת עליה לבנה מנחה ִהוא (ויקרא ב‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬היא פרט‬ ‫לשתי הלחם שלא יטענו שמן {ו}לבונה‬ ‫§‪ 2.24‬והביא את קרבנו אשר חטא עשירת האפה סלת לחטאת לא ישים עליה‬ ‫שמן ולא יתן עליה לבנה כי חטאת הוא‪ .‬והביאה אל הכהן וקמץ הכהן ממנה מלוא‬ ‫קמצו את אזכרתה והקטיר המזבחה על אשי ה’ חטאת הוא (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬יא‪-‬יב)‪ :‬יכול‬ ‫אם נתן עליה שמן תהא כשרה תל’ לו’ היא‬ ‫§‪ 2.25‬זאת תורת החטאת במקום אשר תשחט העלה תשחט החטאת לפני ה’‬ ‫קדש קדשים הוא (ויקרא ו‪ ,‬יח)‪ :‬הוא פרט לתודה ולאיל נזיר‬ ‫§‪ 2.26‬והנפש האכלת ממנו עונה תשא (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬יח)‪ :‬הנפש לא הציבור‬ ‫§‪ 2.27‬נפש כי תחטא בשגגה מכל מצות ה’ אשר לא תעשינה ועשה מאחת מהנה‬ ‫(ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬אין לי אילא בני ישראל ומנין לרבות את הגרים ואת העבדים תל’ לו’‬ ‫נפש‬ ‫§‪ 2.28‬נפש כי תמעל מעל (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬נפש לרבות כהן משיח למעילה‬ ‫§‪ 2.29‬כי כל אכל חלב מן הבהמה אשר יקריב ממנה אשה לה’ ונכרתה הנפש‬ ‫האכלת מעמיה (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬כה)‪ :‬הנפש לא הציבור הנפש להביא את השותה‬ ‫§‪ 2.30‬והקטיר אתו הכהן המזבחה על העצים אשר על האש עלה הוא (ויקרא א‪,‬‬ ‫יז)‪ :‬עולה אף על פי שמיצה דם הגוף ולא מיצה דם הראש או יכול אף על פי שמיצה‬ ‫דם הראש ולא מיצה דם הגוף תל’ לו’ הוא‬

‫‪218 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫§‪ 2.31‬כי יקריב מכם קרבן לה’ מן הבהמה (ויקרא א‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬אדם לרבות את הגירים‬ ‫מכם להוציא את המשומדים מה ראיתה לומר כן אדם לרבות את הגרים מכם‬ ‫להוציא את המשומדים אחר שריבה הכתוב מיעט‬ ‫§‪ 2.32‬והקרב והכרעים ירחץ במים והקריב הכהן את הכל והקטיר המזבחה עלה‬ ‫הוא אשה ריח ניחח לה’ (ויקרא א‪ ,‬יג)‪ :‬אף על פי שלוא הפשיט אף על פי שלוא‬ ‫ניתח או יכול אף על פי שלא שחט בצפון תל’ לו’ הוא מה ראית להכשיר בהפשיט‬ ‫ובניתוח ולפסול בצפון אחר שריבה הכתוב מיעט מפני מ{ה} אני מכשיר בהפשיט‬ ‫ובניתוח שהן לאחר הרצייה ופוסיל בצפון שהוא לפני הרצייה‬ ‫§‪ 2.33‬אך בכור אשר יבכר לה’ בבהמה לא יקדיש איש אתו אם שור אם שה לה’‬ ‫הוא (ויקרא כז‪ ,‬כו)‪ :‬ר’ ישמעאל אומר מנין לא יקדיש אדם בכור תל’ לו’ בכור לא‬ ‫יקדיש איש אתו‪ .‬יכול לא יקדישנו הקדש עילוי תל’ לו’ זכר תקדיש (דברים טו‪,‬‬ ‫יט)‪ .‬מה ראיתה להביאו להקדש עילוי ולהוציאו מהקדש מזבח אחר שריבה הכת’‬ ‫מיעט‪ .‬מפני מה מביאו להקדש עילוי שהוא חל על הכל ומוציאו מהקדש מזבח שאינו‬ ‫חל על הכל‬ ‫§‪ 2.34‬איש כי יפלא נדר בערכך (ויקרא כז‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬בני ישראל מעריכים ואין העכו”ם‬ ‫מעריכים‪ ,‬יכול לא יהו נערכים ת”ל איש דברי ר”מ‪ ,‬א”ר מאיר אחר שהכתוב אחד‬ ‫מרבה וכתוב אחד ממעט‪ ,‬מפני מה אני אומר נערכים אבל לא מעריכים‪ ,‬שריבה מדת‬ ‫הנערכים ממידת המעריכים‪ ,‬שהרי חרש שוטה וקטן נערכים אבל לא מעריכים‪ .‬ר’‬ ‫יהודה אומר בני ישראל נערכים ואין העכו”ם נערכים‪ ,‬יכול לא יהו מעריכים ת”ל‬ ‫איש‪ ,‬א”ר יהודה אחר שהכתוב אחד מרבה וכתוב אחד ממעט‪ ,‬מפני מה אני אומר‬ ‫מעריכים אבל לא נערכים‪ ,‬מפני שריבה מידת המעריכים ממדת הנערכים שהרי‬ ‫טומטום ואנדרוגינוס מעריכים אבל לא נערכים‬ ‫§‪ 2.35‬לא יקרחו קרחה בראשם (ויקרא כא‪ ,‬ה)‪ :‬בראשם מה ת”ל לפי שנ’ לא‬ ‫תתגודדו ולא תשימו קרחה בין עיניכם למת (דברים יד‪ ,‬א) שייכול אין לי חייבין‬ ‫אלא על בין העיניים בלבד מנ’ לרבות את הראש תל’ לו’ בראשם לרבות את הראש‬ ‫יכול הכהנים שריבה בהם הכתוב מצ{ו}ות יתירות חייבין על כל קרחה וקרחה ועל‬ ‫הראש כבין העיניים אבל ישראל {שלא} ריבה בהם הכתוב מצ{ו}ות יתירות אינן‬ ‫חייבין אלא אחת {ו}אינן חייבין {אילא} על בין העיניים בלבד תל’ לו’ קרחה קרחה‬ ‫לגזירה שווה‬ ‫§‪ 2.36‬וסמך ידו על ראש קרבנו (ויקרא ג‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬לא הפסח הלא דין הוא מה אם‬ ‫שלמים שלא ריבה בהן הכתוב מצוות יתירות טעונים סמיכה הפסח שריבה בו‬ ‫הכתוב מצוות יתירות אינו דין שיטען סמיכה תל’ לו’ קרבנו לא הפסח‬

‫‪219‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪ 2.37‬ואשה כי יזוב זוב דמה ימים רבים (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬כה)‪ :‬שנים יכול ימים הרבה‬ ‫אמר ר’ עקיבה כל ששמועו מרובה [ו]שמועו ממועט תפסתה את המרובה לא תפסתה‬ ‫תפסתה את הממ{ו}עט תפסתה‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪ 2.38‬ואם מן העוף עלה קרבנו לה’ והקריב מן התרים או מן בני היונה את קרבנו‬ ‫(ויקרא א‪ ,‬יד)‪ :‬מה אם עולת בהמה שמיעט הכתוב בהבאתה (ו)אינה באה נקיבות‬ ‫כזכרים ובעלי מומים כתמימים הרי היא באה {נדבת} ציבור עולת העוף שריבה‬ ‫הכתוב בהבאתה ובאה נקב{ו}ת כזכרים ובעלי מומים כתמימים אינו דין שתבוא‬ ‫נדבת ציבור תל’ לו’ קורבנו היחיד מיביא עוף אין הציבור מיביא עוף‬ ‫§‪ N2.10‬ואם מן העוף עלה קרבנו לה’ והקריב מן התרים או מן בני היונה את‬ ‫קרבנו (ויקרא א‪ ,‬יד)‪{ . . . :‬הלא} דין הוא מה אם תרין שלא כשרו לבוא קטנים‬ ‫כשרו {לבוא גדולים} בני יונה שכשרו לבוא קטנים אינו דין שיכשרו לבוא גדולים‬ ‫תל’ לו’ בני יונה קטנים ולא גדולים‬

‫§‪ N2.13‬ואיש כי יקריב זבח שלמים לה’ לפלא נדר או לנדבה בבקר או בצאן‬ ‫(ויקרא כב‪ ,‬כא)‪ :‬אין לי אלא שלמים מנ’ לרבות את העולה תל’ לו’ נדר מנ’ לרבות‬ ‫את התודה תל’ לו’ נדבה מנ’ לרבות {את} הוולדות והנזירות תל’ לו’ לפלא מנ’‬ ‫לרבות הבכור והמעשר תל’ לו’ בבקר מנ’ לרבות חטאת ואשם תל’ לו’ בצאן‬ ‫§‪ 3.1‬וסמכו זקני העדה את ידיהם על ראש הפר (ויקרא ד‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬וסמכו זקני יכול‬ ‫זקנים מן השוק תל’ לו’ זקני העדה‬ ‫§‪ 3.2‬אשר תאכלו מכל הבהמה אשר על הארץ כל מפרסת פרסה (יא‪ ,‬ב‪-‬ג)‪ :‬חיה‬ ‫טהורה מנ’ תל’ לו’ מפרסת חיה טמאה מנ’ תל’ לו’ פרסה‬ ‫§‪ 3.3‬והרים את הדשן אשר תאכל האש את העלה על המזבח ושמו אצל המזבח‬ ‫(ויקרא ו‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬האברין והפדרין שלא ניתאכלו מבערב סונקין אותן לצדדי המזבח‬ ‫ואם אין הצד{דין} מחזיקין סודרין אותן בסובב על הכבש את שהוא סודר כל‬ ‫המערכה מחזירן למערכה‬ ‫§‪ 3.4‬אם על תודה יקריבנו (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬יב)‪ :‬מנין אתה אומר המפריש תודתו ואבדה‬ ‫והפריש אחרת תחתיה ואחר כך נמצת הראשונה והרי שתיהן עומדות ומנ’ שיביא‬ ‫את איזו מיהן שירצה ויביא עימה לחם והשנייה תבוא שלא בלחם‪. . .‬‬ ‫§‪ 3.5‬ובקצרכם את קציר ארצכם לא תכלה פאת שדך לקצר ולקט קצירך לא‬ ‫תלקט (ויקרא יט‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬אין לי אילא קוציר תוליש מנ’ תל’ לו’ לקצור חוצד מנ’ תל’‬

‫‪220 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫לו’ קצירך אין לי אילא תבואה קטניות מנ’ תל’ לו’ בארצכם אילנות מנ’ תל’ לו’‬ ‫שדך‬ ‫§‪ 3.6‬וכלי חרש אשר תבשל בו ישבר (ויקרא ו‪ ,‬כא)‪ :‬אין לי אילא כלי חרס ומנ’‬ ‫לרבות כלי נתר תל’ לו’ וכלי חרס אשר תבושל בו אין לי אילא שבישל בו עירה‬ ‫לתוכו רותח מנ’ תל’ לו’ אשר בו ישבר אין לי אלא כלי חרס שעירה לתוכו רותיח‬ ‫כלי נחושת שעירה לתוכו רותיח מנ’ תל’ לו’ אשר בו ישבר‬ ‫§‪ 3.7‬זאת תורת העלה הוא העלה על מוקדה על המזבח כל הלילה עד הבקר‬ ‫ואש המזבח תוקד בו (ויקרא ו‪ ,‬ב)‪ :‬יכול‪. . .‬ירדו תל’ לו’ זאת היא העלה הרי אילו‬ ‫מיעוטין‬ ‫§‪ 3.8‬ולבש הכהן מדו בד ומכנסי בד ילבש על בשרו (ויקרא ו‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬בד שיהוא שלבוץ‬ ‫בד שיהוא חדשים בד שיהוא כפולים בד שלא ילבש עימהן בגדים אחרים יכול לא‬ ‫ילבש עימהן בגדי פישתן אבל ילבש עימהן בגדי צמר תל’ לו’ בד‬ ‫§‪ 3.9‬והיה ביום השביעי יגלח את כל שערו (ויקרא יד‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬יכול בין ביום בין בלילה‬ ‫תל’ לו’ ביום לא בלילה‬ ‫§‪ 3.10‬ולקחתם לכם ביום הראשון פרי עץ הדר (ויקרא כג‪ ,‬מ)‪ :‬ביום לא בלילה‬ ‫§‪ 3.11‬ובשר זבח תודת שלמיו ביום קרבנו יאכל לא יניח ממנו עד בקר (ויקרא‬ ‫ז‪ ,‬טו)‪ :‬אין לי אילא תודה ומנ’ לרבות את הלחם תל’ לו’ קרבנו ומנ’ לרבות את‬ ‫הוולדות ואת התמורות תל’ לו’ ובשר {ומנ’} לרבות חטאת ואשם תל’ לו’ זבח מנ’‬ ‫לרבות שלמי נזיר ושלמים הבאים מחמת הפסח תל’ לו’ שלמיו‬ ‫§‪[ 3.12‬נפש כי תחטא ומעלה מעל בה’ וכחש בעמיתו ‪ . . .‬והיה כי יחטא ‪]. . .‬‬ ‫ושלם אתו [בראשו וחמשתיו יסף עליו] (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬כא‪-‬כד)‪ :‬אתו הוא משלם אינו‬ ‫משלם תשלומי כפיל הלא דין הוא מה אם הטוען טע(י)נת ג(ו)נב שאינו משלם חומש‬ ‫ואשם משלם תשלומי כפיל זה שהוא משלם חומש ואשם אינו דין שישלם תשלומי‬ ‫כפיל תל’ לו’ ושלם אתו‬ ‫§‪ 3.13‬אם הכהן המשיח יחטא לאשמת העם והקריב על חטאתו אשר חטא פר‬ ‫בן בקר תמים לה’ לחטאת (ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬פר הוא מביא אינו מביא חילופין הלא‬ ‫דין הוא מה אם היחיד שלא שווה קרבנו לכל המצות לקרבנו ליום הכפורים שווה‬ ‫קרבנו לכל מצות לקרבנו למצוה יחידית משיח ששוה קרבנו לכל מצות לקרבנו ליום‬ ‫הכפורים אינו דין שישוה קרבנו לכל המצות לקרבנו למצוה יחידית נשיא יוכיח‬ ‫ששוה קרבנו לכל מצות לקרבנו ליום הכיפורים ולא שווה קרבנו לכל מצות לקרבנו‬

‫‪221‬‬

‫ ‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫למצוה יחידית אף אתה אל תתמה על המשיח שאף על פי ששוה קרבנו לכל מצות‬ ‫לקרבנו ליום הכיפורין לא ישוה קרבנו לכל מצות לקרבנו למצוה יחידית אילא לפי‬ ‫שנ’ והביא יכול יביא חילופין תל’ לו’ פר פר הוא מביא אינו מביא חילופין‬ ‫§‪ 3.14‬אם הכהן המשיח יחטא (ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬מה ת”ל שיכול יביא על הקודמות ודין‬ ‫הוא‬ ‫§‪ 3.15‬לא תקלל חרש ולפני עור לא תתן מכשל ויראת מאלהיך (ויקרא יט‪ ,‬יד)‪:‬‬ ‫אין לי אילא חרש מנ’ לרבות שאר כל האדם תל’ לו’ בעמך לא תאור אם כן למה‬ ‫נאמר חרש מה חרש מיוחד שהוא בחיים יצא המת שאינו בחיים‬ ‫§‪ 3.16‬וביום השמיני ימול בשר ערלתו (ויקרא יב‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬אף על פי שיש שם בהרת מה‬ ‫אני מקיים השמר בנגע הצרעת לשמר מאד ולעשות (דברים כד‪ ,‬ח) חוץ מן המילה‬ ‫או מקיים אני השמר בנ’ הצ’ לש’ מ’ ולע’‪ 1‬אף במילה מה אני מקיים ימול ערלתו‬ ‫ביזמן שאין שם בהרת תל’ לו’ בשר אף על פי שיש שם בהרת‬

‫§‪ N3.13‬מכל האכל אשר יאכל אשר יבוא עליו מים יטמא (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬לד)‪ :‬יכול‬ ‫אף הכילים יהוא מיטמין באוויר כלי חרס תל’ לו’ אכל אכלים מיטמין באוויר כלי‬ ‫חרס אין הכילים מיטמין באויר כלי חרס יכול אף אוכלי בהמה יהוא מיטמין באוויר‬ ‫כלי חרס תל’ לו’ האוכל האוכל המיוחד מיטמא באוויר כלי חרס אין אוכלי בהמה‬ ‫מיטמין באוויר כלי חרס או יכול שני מוציא את אוכלי בהמה שחשב עליהם לאוכל‬ ‫אדם תל’ לו’ כל אוכל אוכל יטמא יכול כל אוכל תל’ לו’ אשר יאכל פרט לאוכל‬ ‫סרוח אוכל יטמא מלמד שהוא מיטמא בכל שהוא יכול יטמא אף לאחירים בכל‬ ‫שהוא תל’ לו’ אשר יאכל הא אינו מטמא אלא בכביצה יכול המוקף צמיד פתיל‬ ‫בכלי חרס ונתון לתוך התנור יהא טמא תל’ לו’ מאוכל לא כל אוכל פרט למוקף‬ ‫צמיד פתיל בכלי חרס ונתון לתוך התנור‬ ‫§‪ N3.30‬ואשה כי יזוב זוב דמה ימים רבים ‪[ . . .‬טמאה הוא] (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬כה)‪ :‬דמה‬ ‫מחמת עצמה לא דמה מחמת הוולד או דמה מחמת עצמה לא דמה מחמת האונס‬ ‫כשהוא או’ זוב לרבות את האנסים הא מה אני מקיים דמה דמה מחמת עצמה ולא‬ ‫דמה מחמת הוולד‬

‫‪222 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫§‪4.1‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫כל מפרסת פרסה ושסעת שסע פרסת‬ ‫מעלת גרה בבהמה אתה תאכלו‬ ‫(ויקרא יא‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬תאכלו לרבות את‬ ‫השילייה יכול אפילו יצאת מיקצתה תל’‬ ‫לו’ אותה‬

‫השוחט את הבהמה ומצא בה שילייה‬ ‫נפש היפה תאכל ‪ . . .‬שילייה שיצאתה‬ ‫מיקצתה אסורה באכילה‬

‫§‪4.2‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫כל אשר אין לו סנפיר וקשקשת במים‬ ‫שקץ הוא לכם (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬יב)‪ :‬שקץ‬ ‫הוא פרט לעירובו מיכן אמרו‪. . .‬‬

‫העיד ר’ צדוק על ציר חגבין טמאים‬ ‫שהוא טהור‪ .‬שמישנה ראשונה חגבים‬ ‫טמאים שניכבשו עים חגבין טהורים לא‬ ‫פסלו את צירן‬

‫§‪4.3‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫אדם כי יהיה בעור בשרו ‪ . . .‬לנגע‬ ‫צרעת ‪ . . .‬ושער בנגע הפך לבן‬ ‫(ויקרא יג‪ ,‬ב‪-‬ג)‪ :‬והפך לא הקודם מיכן‬ ‫אמרו ‪. . .‬‬

‫בהרת כחצי גרים ואין בה כלום‪ .‬נולדה‬ ‫בהרת כחצי גריס ובה שתי שערות הרי‬ ‫זה להחליט‪ .‬מפני שאמרו אם בהרת‬ ‫קדמה לשער לבן טמא ואם שיער לבן‬ ‫קדם לבהרת טהור‪ ,‬ואם ספק טמא‬

‫‪223‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪4.4‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫כלל אמר ר’ יהושע‪ :‬כל המטמא בגדים‬ ‫ואיש אשר יגע במשכבו יכבס בגדיו‬ ‫בשעת מגעו מטמא אכלין ומשקין להיות‬ ‫ורחץ במים וטמא עד הערב (ויקרא‬ ‫טו‪ ,‬ה)‪ :‬בגד הוא מטמא ואינו מטמא לא תחילה והידים להיות שניות ואין מטמא‬ ‫לא אדם ולא כלי חרש‪ .‬לאחר פרישתו‬ ‫אדם ולא כלי חרס מיכן אמרו…‬ ‫מיטמין ומטמא משקין להיות תחילה‬ ‫והאכלין והידים להיות שניות ואינו‬ ‫מטמא בגדין‬ ‫§‪4.5‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫היו סובלין אותם במוטות יצאו‬ ‫מה להלן את{ה} נותן לו שלוש מחנות‬ ‫הראשונים חוץ לחומת העזרה‬ ‫וכן את{ה} נותן לו מחנה אחת אם כן‬ ‫למה נא’ יוציא אל מחוץ למחנה (ויקרא והאחרונים לא יצאו הראשונים מטמאין‬ ‫בגדים והאחרונים אינן מטמאין בגדים‬ ‫טז‪ ,‬כז) אילא כיון שיצא חוץ למחנה‬ ‫אחת שורפו מטמא בגדים מיכן אמרו‪ . . .‬עד שיצאו יצאו אלו ואלו אלו ואלו‬ ‫מטמאין בגדים רבי שמעון אומר אלו‬ ‫ואלו אינן מטמאין בגדים עד שיצת‬ ‫האור ‪. . .‬‬ ‫§‪[ 4.6‬ואם מנחה על המחבת קרבנך ‪ ]. . .‬פתות אתה פתים (ויקרא ב‪ ,‬ה‪-‬ו)‪ :‬פתות‬ ‫יכול שתים תל’ לו’ פתים או פיתים יכול יעשנה כפירורין תל’ לו’ אותה אותה פיתים‬ ‫אין פיתיה לפיתים‪ .‬מיכן אמרו מנחות ישראל כופל אחד לשנים ושנים לארבעה‬ ‫ומבדיל מנחת כהנים כופל אחד לשנים ושנים לארבעה {ואינו} ומבדיל מנחת כהן‬ ‫משיח {לא היה} מכפלה רבי שמעון אומר מנחת כוהנים {ו}מנחת כהן משיח אין‬ ‫בהם פתיתה מפני שאין בהם קמיצה {ו}כל שאין בה קמיצה אין בה פתיתה‬ ‫§‪ 4.7‬ובקצרכם את קציר ארצכם לא תכלה פאת שדך לקצר ולקט קצירך לא‬ ‫תלקט (ויקרא יט‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬שדך לחייב על כל שדה ושדה מיכן אמרו אילו מפסיקין‬ ‫לפיאה הנחל והשלולית ודרך היחיד ודרך הרבים ושביל הרבים ושביל היחיד ‪. . .‬‬ ‫§‪ 4.8‬פחחת ִהוא בקרחתו או בגבחתו (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬נה)‪ :‬בקרחתו אלו השחקין‬ ‫בגבחתו אלו החדשים מיכן אמרו סגוס שנראה בו נגע ר’ אליעזר בן יעקב או’ עד‬ ‫שיראה באריג ובמוכים‬

‫‪224 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫§‪ 4.9‬ואם בהרת לבנה ִהוא בעור בשרו (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬ד)‪ :‬יכול כל מראה השלג יהוא‬ ‫טמיאים ושאר כל המראות יהוא טהורין תל’ לו’ בוהק בוהק טהור ממנו ולמעלן‬ ‫טמא מיכן אמרו מראות הנגעים שנים שהן ארבעה בהרת עזא כשלג שניה לה כסיד‬ ‫ההיכל השאת כיקרום ביצה שנייה לה כצמר לבן דברי ר’ מאיר וחכ’ אומ’ השאת‬ ‫כצמר לבן שנייה לה כקרום ביצה‬ ‫§‪ 4.10‬כל אשר יגע בבשרה יקדש ואשר יזה מדמה על הבגד אשר יזה עליה‬ ‫תכבס במקום קדש וכלי חרש אשר תבשל בו ישבר (ויקרא ו‪ ,‬כ‪-‬כא)‪ :‬תכבס‬ ‫במקום קדש מלמד שהכיבוס במקום קדוש אין לי אילא הכיבוס ומניין אף שבירת‬ ‫כלי חרס במקום קדוש תל’ לו’ תכבס במקום קדוש וכלי חרס ישבר‪ .‬מיכן אמרו‬ ‫בגד שיצא חוץ לקלעים ניכנס ומכבסו במקום קדוש ניטמא חוץ לקלעים קורעו‬ ‫ניכנס ומכבסו במקום קדוש כלי חרס שיצא חוץ לקלעים ניכנס ושוברו במקום‬ ‫קדוש ניטמא חוץ לקלעים נוקבו ניכנס ושוברו במקום קדוש‬ ‫§‪ 4.11‬ובא אשר לו הבית והגיד לכהן לאמר כנגע נראה לי בבית (ויקרא יד‪ ,‬לה)‪:‬‬ ‫נראה לי לא לי ולנירי‪ .‬מיכן אמרו בית האפל אין פותחין בו חלונות לראות את נגעו‬ ‫§‪4.12‬זאת תורת הילדת לזכר או לנקבה (ויקרא יב‪ ,‬ז)‪ . . . :‬להביא את המפלת‬ ‫סנדל או שילייה ושפיר מרוקם‬ ‫§‪ 4.13‬מנין לאורז ולדוחן ולפרגים ולשמשמין שהשרישו לפני ראש השנה כונסן אתה‬ ‫בשביעית ת”ל ואספת את תבואתה בשביעית (ויקרא כה‪ ,‬ג)‬ ‫§‪[ 4.14‬וכל אשר יפל עליהם במתם יטמא] מכל כלי עץ (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬לב)‪ :‬יכול‬ ‫השידה והתיבה והמגדל וכורת הקש וכוירת הקנים ובור ספינה אלכסנדרית שייש‬ ‫להם שוליים והן מחזיקין ארבעים לח שהן כוריים ביבש תל’ לו’ מכלי עץ לא כל‬ ‫כלי עץ או יכול שני מוציא דרדור עגלה וקסתות מלכים ועריבת העובדן ובור ספינה‬ ‫קטנה והארון תל’ לו’ כל כלי עץ ריבה‬ ‫§‪ 4.15‬אמר לשנים משביע אני עליכם איש פלוני ופלוני אם יודעים אתם לי עידות‬ ‫שתבואו ותעידוני והן שיודעין לו עידות עד מפי עד או שהיה אחד מהם קרוב או‬ ‫פסול יכול יהוא חייבין תל’ לו’ ושמעה קול אלה והוא עד (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬א) בזמן שהן‬ ‫כשירין לעדות לא בזמן שהן פסולין מן העדות‬ ‫§‪ 4.16‬וכי תבאו אל הארץ ונטעתם כל עץ מאכל ‪ . . .‬שלש שנים יהיה לכם ערלים‬ ‫לא יאכל (ויקרא יט‪ ,‬כג)‪ :‬יהיה לכם להביא את הנוטע לרבים ר’ יהודה או’ לכם‬ ‫פרט לנוטע {ל}רבים‬

‫‪225‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪ 4.17‬והיה השדה בצאתו ביבל [קדש לה’ ‪ . . .‬לכהן תהיה אחזתו] (ויקרא כז‪,‬‬ ‫כא)‪ :‬מלמד שהכהנים נכנסים לתוכה ונותנים את דמיה דברי ר’ יהודה ר’ שמעון‬ ‫אומר נכנסים אבל לא נותנין‪ ,‬ר’ אלעזר אומר לא נכנסין ולא נותנים אלא נקראת‬ ‫שדה רטושים עד היובל השני‪ ,‬הגיע היובל השני ולא נגאלת נקראת רטושי רטושים‬ ‫עד היובל השלישי לעולם אין הכהנים נכנסים לתוכה עד שיגאלנה אחר‬ ‫§‪4.18‬‬ ‫ספרא‬

‫משנה‬

‫[או נפש כי תשבע לבטא בשפתים]‬ ‫להרע או להיטיב [לכל אשר יבטא‬ ‫האדם בשבעה] (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬ד)‪ :‬אין לי‬ ‫אילא דברים שיש בהם הרעה והטיבה‬ ‫{דברים שאין בהם הרעה והטבה} מניין‬ ‫תל’ לו’ לבטא‬

‫ר’ ישמעאל או’ אינו חייב אלא לעתיד‬ ‫לבוא שנ’ להרע או להיטיב‬

‫אין לי אילא לבא לשעבר מניין תל’ לו’‬ ‫לכל אשר יבטא דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫ר’ ישמעאל אומר להרע או להיטיב לבא‬ ‫אמר לו ר’ עקיבה אם כן אין לי אילא‬ ‫דברים שיש בהם הרעה והטבה דברים‬ ‫שאין בהם הרעה והטבה מניין‬

‫אמ’ לו ר’ עקיבה אם כן אין לי אלא‬ ‫{דברין שיש בהן הרעה והטבה} דברין‬ ‫שאין בהן הרעה והטבא מניין‬

‫אמר לו מיריבוי הכתוב‬

‫א’ לו מריבוי הכתוב‬

‫אמר לו אם ריבוי {ריבה} הכתוב לכך‬ ‫ריבוי הכתוב לכך‬

‫אמ’ לו אם ריבוי הכתוב לכך ריבוי‬ ‫הכתוב לכך‬

‫§‪ N4.55‬ואלהם תאמר איש איש מבית ישראל ומן הגר אשר יגור בתוכם אשר‬ ‫יעלה עלה או זבח (ויקרא יז‪ ,‬ח)‪ :‬ישראל אילו ישראל הגר אילו הגרים אשר יגור‬ ‫לרבות נשי הגירים בתוכם לרבות נשים ועבדים אם כן למה נא’ איש איש להביא את‬ ‫שנים שהעלו דברי רבי שמעון‬

‫‪226 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫§‪ 6.1‬איש איש מזרע אהרן והוא צרוע (ויקרא כב‪ ,‬ד)‪ :‬ר’ ישמעאל או’ נא’ כן‬ ‫תושב שכיר (ויקרא כב‪ ,‬י) ונ’ תושב שכיר (שמות יב‪ ,‬מה) בפסח מה תושב שכיר‬ ‫אמור בפסח פסל בו את הערל אף תושב שכיר אמור כן יפסול בו את הערל‪ .‬ר’‬ ‫עקיבה או’ איש איש לרבות את הערל‬ ‫§‪ 6.2‬ואם [נפש כי תחטא ועשתה אחת מכל מצות ה’ אשר לא תעשינה] (ויקרא‬ ‫ה‪ ,‬יז)‪ :‬הרי מוסף על עינין הראשון מלמד שספק מעילות אשם תלוי דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪[ 6.3‬והיה כי יאשם לאחת] מאלה (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬ה)‪ :‬ר’ עקיבה אומר מאלה יש מאלה‬ ‫חייב ויש מאלה פטור בדבר שהוא שלממון חייב ובדבר שאינו שלממון פטור‬ ‫§‪ 6.4‬מנ’ ליום הכפורין שחל להיות בשבת ושגג ועשה מלאכה מנין שהוא חייב על‬ ‫זה בפני עצמו ועל זה בפני עצמו תל’ לו’ שבת היא (ויקרא כג‪ ,‬ג) יום הכיפורין הוא‬ ‫(ויקרא כג‪ ,‬כו) דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪ 6.5‬וכל כלי חרש אשר יפל מהם אל תוכו כל אשר בתוכו יטמא (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬לג)‪:‬‬ ‫ר’ עקיבה או’ אינו אומר טמא אילא יטמא לטמא את אחירים וללמד על הככר השני‬ ‫שיטמא את השלישי הא כיצד התנור תחילה והכיכר שיני והנוגע בכיכר שלישי א’‬ ‫ר’ יהושע מי יגלה עפר מעיניך רבן יוחנן בן זכאי שהיית או’ עתיד דור אחר לטהר‬ ‫את ככר השלישי שלא מן התורה והלא עקיבה תלמידך הביא לו מקרא מן ה{ת}ורה‬ ‫שהוא טמא {שנ’} כל אשר בתוכו יטמא אותו‬ ‫§‪ 6.6‬ושחט את בן הבקר לפני ה’ והקריבו בני אהרן הכהנים את הדם וזרקו את‬ ‫הדם על המזבח סביב אשר פתח אהל מועד (ויקרא א‪ ,‬ה)‪ :‬אמר רבי עקיבה ומניין‬ ‫לקבלת הדם שלא תהא אילא בכהן כשר ובכלי שרית נאמר כן כיהון ונאמר להלן‬ ‫כיהון מה כיהון שנאמר להלן בכהן כשר ובכלי שרית אף כיהון שנאמר כן בכהן כשר‬ ‫ובכלי שרית‪ .‬אמר לו רבי טרפון עקיבה עד מתיי אתה מגביב ומיבא עלינו איקפח‬ ‫את בניי אם לא שמעתי הפריש בין קבלה לזריקה ואין לי לפרש‪ .‬אמר לו רבי עקיבה‬ ‫תרשיני לומר לפניך מה שלימדתני‪ .‬אמר לו אמור‪ .‬אמר לו קבלה לא עשה בא את‬ ‫המחשבה כמעשה זריקה עשה בה את המחשבה כמעשה המקבל בחוץ פטור הזורק‬ ‫בחוץ חייב קבלוהו טמאין אין חייבין עליו זרקוהו טמאין חיבין עליו אמר לו רבי‬ ‫טרפון אקפח את בניי שלא היטיתה ימין ושמאל אני הוא ששמעתי ולא היה לי לפרש‬ ‫אתה דורש ומסכים לשמועה הא כל הפורש ממך כפורש מחייו‪.‬‬ ‫ ‬ ‫§‪ 6.7‬אם על תודה יקריבנו והקריב על זבח התודה חלות מצות בלולת בשמן‬ ‫ורקיקי מצות משחים בשמן וסלת מרבכת חלת בלולת בשמן (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬יב)‪ :‬אמר‬ ‫ר’ עקיבה אילו נא’ בשמן אחד הייתי אומר הרי היא ככל המנחות ללוג כשהוא אומר‬ ‫בשמן בשמן שני פעמים {ו}אין ריבוי אחר ריבוי בתורה אלא למעט מיעטה לחצי‬

‫‪227‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫לוג ‪ . . .‬אמר לו ר’ אלעזר בן עזריה לר’ עקיבה אפילו את{ה} מרבה כל היום בשמן‬ ‫לרבות ובשמן למעט איני שומע לך אילא חצי לוג שמן לתודה ורביעית שמן לנזיר‬ ‫ואחד עשר שבין נידה לנידה הלכה למשה מסיני‬ ‫§‪[ 6.8‬כל איש אשר בו מום לא יקרב ‪ . . .‬או גרב או ילפת] או מרוח אשך (ויקרא‬ ‫יח‪-‬כא‪ ,‬כ)‪ :‬ר’ ישמעאל או’ כל שנימרחו אשכיו ר’ עקיבה או’ כל שרוח באשכיו‬ ‫§‪ 6.9‬כי איש איש אשר יקלל את אביו ואת אמו (ויקרא כ‪ ,‬ט)‪ :‬ר’ עקיבה או’ אביו‬ ‫ואמו קילל את שהוא חייב על אביו חייב על אמו ואת שאינו חייב על אביו אינו חייב‬ ‫על אמו‬ ‫§‪ 6.10‬וכלה מכפר את הקדש (ויקרא טז‪ ,‬כ)‪ :‬אם כיפר כילה דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪ 6.11‬וכי ימות מן הבהמה אשר היא לכם לאכלה הנגע בנבלתה יטמא עד הערב‬ ‫‪ . . .‬והנשא את נבלתה יכבס בגדיו וטמא עד הערב (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬לט‪-‬מ)‪ :‬ר’ עקיבה או’‬ ‫הנוגע והנושא את שבא לכלל מגע בא לכלל משא לא בא לכלל מגע לא בא לכ{ל}ל משא‬ ‫§‪ 6.12‬וראה את הנגע והנה הנגע בקירת הבית שקערורת ירקרקת או אדמדמת‬ ‫ומראיהן שפל מן הקיר ‪ . . .‬וראה והנה פשה הנגע בקירת הבית וצוה הכהן וחלצו‬ ‫את האבנים אשר בהן הנגע והשליכו אתהן אל מחוץ לעיר אל מקום טמא (ויקרא‬ ‫יד‪ ,‬לז‪-‬מ)‪ :‬יכול עד שיראה בשני כתלים תל’ לו’ ומראיהן שפל מן הקיר אפילו בכותל‬ ‫אחד יכול עד שיראה בשתי אבנים תל’ לו’ וחלצו את האבנים אין פחות משתי‬ ‫אבנים דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪ 6.13‬אדם כי יהיה בעור בשרו שאת או ספחת או בהרת (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬ב)‪. . . :‬‬ ‫ובמורדין נישתנו מראייהן בין להקל בין {להחמיר} ‪ . . .‬ר’ עקיבה או’ בין להקל בין‬ ‫להחמיר תראה כתחילה לכך נא’ אדם כי יהיה‬ ‫§‪ 6.14‬נפש כי תחטא ומעלה מעל בה’ וכחש בעמיתו בפקדון (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬כא)‪ :‬ר’‬ ‫עקיבה אומר מה תל’ לו’ ומעלה מעל ביי לפי שכל המלווה והלווה והנושא והנותן‬ ‫אינו לא מלווה ולא לווה לא נושא ולא נותן אילא בעידים ובשטר לפיכך בזמן שהוא‬ ‫מכחש מכחש בעדים ובשטר אבל המפקיד אצל חבירו ואינו רוצה שתידע בו נשמה‬ ‫אילא השלישי שביניהם לפי כך בזמן שהוא מכחש מכחש בשלישי שביניהם‬ ‫§‪ 6.15‬כל המנחה [אשר תקריבו לה’ לא תעשה חמץ] (ויקרא ב‪ ,‬יא)‪ :‬רבי יוסה‬ ‫הגלילי אומר להביא {את} לחם הפנים רבי עקיבה אומר להביא מנחת נסכין‬

‫‪228 a p p e n d i x‬‬

‫§‪[ 6.16‬והקריב מזבח השלמים ‪ . . .‬את החלב המכסה את הקרב] ואת כל החלב‬ ‫אשר על הקרב (ויקרא ג‪ ,‬ג)‪ :‬רבי ישמעאל אומר להביא את החלב שעל הקיבה רבי‬ ‫עקיבה אומר להביא את החלב שעל הדקים‬ ‫§‪ 6.17‬כל חלב שור וכשב ועז לא תאכלו (ויקרא ז‪ ,‬כג)‪ :‬אין לי אילא חלב שור וכשב‬ ‫ועז המיוחדין ומנין לרבות את הכלאים תל’ לו’ כשב ועז דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪ 6.18‬ונפש כי תחטא ושמעה קול אלה [והוא עד או ראה או ידע אם לוא יגיד‬ ‫ונשא עונו] (ויקרא ה‪ ,‬א)‪ :‬ר’ עקיבה אומר אין לי אלא מפי עצמו מזיד מניין מפי‬ ‫עצמו שוגג מפי אחרים מזיד מפי אחרים{שוגג תל’ לו’} והוא עד או ראה או ידע אם‬ ‫לא יגיד ונשא עונו לרבות את כולם‬ ‫§‪ 6.19‬וכי תבאו אל הארץ ונטעתם כל עץ מאכל וערלתם את ערלתו את פריו‪.‬‬ ‫שלש שנים יהיה לכם ערלים לא יאכל ‪ . . .‬ובשנה הרביעית יהיה כל פריו קדש‬ ‫הלולים לה’ (ויקרא יט‪ ,‬כג‪-‬כד)‪ :‬פריו פרט לעלים ולולבין מי גפנים וסמדר או יכול‬ ‫שני מוציא {את} {ה}נקוקלות ואת הבושר תל’ לו’ פריו פריו דברי ר’ יוסה הגלילי‬ ‫ר’ עקיבה או’ וערלתם ערלתו ערילים לרבות את כולם‬ ‫§‪ 6.20‬אלה מועדי ה’ אשר תקראו אתם מקראי קדש (ויקרא כג‪ ,‬לז)‪ :‬ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫או’ מה תל’ לו’ אלה מועדי יי אשר תקראו אתם מקראי קודש אם לעינין ימים‬ ‫טובים כבר עיניין ימים טובים אמורים שנ’ מלבד שבתות יי ואומר ביום הראשון‬ ‫שבתון וביום השמיני שבתון אם כן למה נא’ אלה מועדי יי אשר תקראו אתם‬ ‫מקראי קודש אילא אילו ימי מועד שהן אסורין במלאכה‬ ‫§‪ 6.21‬אמר תלמיד אחד לפני רבי עקיבה צורך לאומרו או שומע אני וטמאה שבעת‬ ‫ימים ובשמיני ימול יכול שבעה ושמונה הרי ח{מ}שה עשר תל’ לו’ וביום אמר לו‬ ‫ר’ עקיבה צללתה והלוא כבר נאמר ובן שמונת ימים ימול לכם כל זכר לדורתיכם‬ ‫(בראשית יז‪ ,‬יב)‬ ‫§‪ 6.22‬ואיש או אשה כי יהיה בו נגע בראש או בזקן (ויקרא יג‪ ,‬כט)‪ :‬איש להביא‬ ‫את שניתק נתק בתוך נתק דברי ר’ עקיבה‬ ‫§‪ 6.23‬וכל חטאת אשר יובא מדמה אל אהל מועד לכפר בקדש לא תאכל (ויקרא‬ ‫ו‪ ,‬כג)‪ :‬חטאת אין לי אילא חטאת ומנ’ לרבות את כל הקדשין תל’ לו’ וכל חטאת‬ ‫דברי ר’ עקיבה אמרו לו לר’ עקיבה אפילו את{ה} מרבה כל היום אין כן אילא‬ ‫חטאת בלבד אם כן למה נא’ וכל שיכול אין לי אילא חטאת יחיד חטאת ציבור מנ’‬ ‫תל’ לו’ וכל‬

‫‪229‬‬

‫ ‪Appendix‬‬

‫ ‬

‫§‪ 6.24‬איש איש מבית ישראל ומן הגר בישראל אשר יקריב קרבנו לכל נדריהם‬ ‫ולכל נדבותם אשר יקריבו לה’ לעלה (ויקרא כב‪ ,‬יח)‪ :‬מנ’ לרבות העופות והמנחות‬ ‫והיין והלבונה והעצים תל’ לו’ נדריהם לכל נדריהם [נדב]ותם לכל נדבותם אם‬ ‫כן למה נא’ אשר יקריבו ליי לעולה פרט לנזירות דברי ר’ עקיבה אמר לו ר’ יוסה‬ ‫הגלילי אפילו את מרבה כל היום אין כן אילא עולה בלבד‬ ‫§‪[ 6.25‬ואם הכהן המשיח יחטא ‪ ]. . .‬והביא את הפר אל פתח אהל מועד לפני ה’‬ ‫(ויקרא ד‪ ,‬ג‪-‬ד)‪ :‬יכול זקן תל’ לו’ בן אובן יכול קטן תל’ לו’ פר הא כיצד בן שלוש‬ ‫כדברי חכמין‬ ‫§‪ 6.26‬ואם דל הוא ואין ידו משגת ולקח כבש אחד אשם לתנופה לכפר עליו‬ ‫ועשרון סלת אחד בלול בשמן למנחה ולג שמן (ויקרא יד‪ ,‬כא)‪ :‬מלמד שכל עשרון‬ ‫ועשרון טעון לוג כדברי חכמין‬ ‫§‪ 6.27‬והיה הנגע ירקרק או אדמדם בבגד‪ . . .‬ואם תראה עוד בבגד או בשתי או‬ ‫בערב או בכל כלי עור פרחת הוא באש תשרפנו את אשר בו הנגע (ויקרא יג מט‪-‬‬ ‫‪2‬‬ ‫נז)‪ :‬שאלו את רבי אליעזר והרי הוא בפסיפס יחידי אמר להם לא שמעתי יסגיר‬ ‫אמר לו ר’ יהודה בן פתירה אלמד בו אמר לו אם לקיים דברי חכמים הין א’ לו‬ ‫שמה יעמוד בו שני שבועות העומד בבגדים שני שבועות טמא א’ לו חכם גדול אתה‬ ‫שקיימתה דברי חכ’‬ ‫§‪ N22.6‬וכי תאמרו מה נאכל בשנה השביעת הן לא נזרע ולא נאסף את תבואתנו‬ ‫(ויקרא כה‪ ,‬כ)‪ :‬אמר רבי עקיבה מיכן סמכו על הספחין שהן אסורין בשביעית‬ ‫וחכמ’ אומ’ אין ספחין אסורין מדב’ תורה אלא מדב’ סופרין‬ ‫§‪ N6.45‬אך מעין ובור מקוה מים יהיה טהור ונגע בנבלתם יטמא (ויקרא יא‪ ,‬לו)‪:‬‬ ‫ר’ עקיבה או’ ונוגע בנבלתם יטמא לרבות כלי עץ{ם}‬ ‫§‪[ N9.19‬והכהן המקריב את] עלת איש [עור העלה אשר יקריב לכהן לו יהיה]‬ ‫(ויקרא ז‪ ,‬ח)‪ :‬אין לי אלא עולת איש עולת נשים גירים ועבדים מנ’ תל’ לו’ עור‬ ‫העלה‬ ‫§‪ 10.1‬והדוה בנדתה (ויקרא טו‪ ,‬לג)‪ :‬זקינים הראשונים היו אומרים תהא בנדתה‬ ‫לא תכחל ולא תפקוס עד שתבוא במים‪ .‬עד שבא רבי עקיבה ולימד נכנס הדבר לידי‬ ‫איבה והוא מבקש לגרשה‬

Abbr eviations

1QS 4QMMT ANRW ARNA BASOR CD DSD HUCA JAJ JBL JJS JQR JSJ JSIJ JSOT JSS JTS NJPS NRSV n.s. o.s. PAAJR TK

The Community Rule of Qumran Miqtzat Maʿasei ha-Torah Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research The Damascus Scroll of Qumran Dead Sea Discoveries Hebrew Union College Annual Journal of Ancient Judaism Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Jewish Studies Jewish Quarterly Review Journal for the Study of Judaism Jewish Studies Internet Journal Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal of Semitic Studies Jewish Theological Seminary New Jewish Publication Society New Revised Standard Version new series old series Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research Torat Kohanim (Louis Finkelstein’s facsimile edition of MS ­Vatican 66)

Notes

Introduction 1. Azzan Yadin, Scripture as Logos: Rabbi Ishmael and the Origins of Midrash (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). 2. Along with the Sifra, the halakhic midrashim referenced in this study are H. S. Horovitz and I. Rabin (eds.), Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Jerusalem: Bamberger and Wahrman, 1960; repr. of Frankfurt, 1931); Menahem I. Kahana (ed.), Sifre on Numbers: An Annotated Edition (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2011); L. Finkelstein (ed.), Siphre ad Deuteronomium (New York: JTS, 1993); H. S. Horovitz (ed.), Sifre Zutaʾ (Numbers) (Jerusalem: Shalem, 1992; repr. of Leipzig, 1917); Menahem I. Kahana (ed.), Sifre Zutaʾ on Deuteronomy: Citations from a New Tannaitic Midrash (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2002); David Zvi Hoffmann (ed.), Midrash Tannaim (Tel Aviv: n.p., 1963; repr. of Berlin, 1908). For a survey of the halakhic midrashim, see M. Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” in S. Safrai et al. (eds.), The Literature of the Sages (2 vols.; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2006), 2:3–105. 3. David Zvi Hoffmann, Le-ḥeqer midreshei ha-tannaʾim, in A. S. Rabinowitz (ed. and trans.), Mesilot le-torat ha-tannaim (Tel Aviv: Carmiel, 1928). For summary, see H. L. Strack and Günter Stemberger, Introduction to Talmud and Midrash, translated by Markus Bockmuehl (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 247–251; J. N. Epstein, Prolegomena to Tannaitic Literature (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Dvir, 1957), 495–746. 4. Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 17–39. 5. See Gary Porton, “The Artificial Dispute: Ishmael and ‘Aqiba,” in Jacob Neusner (ed.), Christianity, Judaism and Other Greco-Roman Cults (4 vols.; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975), 4:18–29, and more fully in vol. 4 of Porton’s The Traditions of Rabbi Ishmael (4 vols.; Leiden: Brill, 19761982). For a critique of Porton’s position, see Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 39–40 n. 161; Jay Harris, How Do We Know This: Midrash and the Fragmentation of Modern Judaism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), esp. 51–72. Harris does not reject the division altogether but emphasizes the role of later rabbinic authorities in framing legal disputes in ways that support the existence of two clearly discernible interpretive approaches. 6. Tzvi Novick, What Is Good and What God Demands: Narrative Structures in Tannaitic Literature (Leiden: Brill, 2010), esp. chap. 3 (“Scripture and World: Between the Schools of R. Akiva and R. Ishmael”). See also idem, “Scripture as Rhetor: A Study in Early Rabbinic Midrash,” forthcoming in HUCA.

232 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 – 2 7. Marc Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism in the Second and Third Centuries,” Harvard Theological Review 93 (2000): 101–115, and the fuller discussion in his Torah for the Entire World (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1999). 8. Ishay Rosen-Zvi, “The School of R. Ishmael and Origins of the Concept of yetzer ha-raʿ” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 75 (2007): 41–80, and Demonic Desires: “Yetzer Hara” and the Problem of Evil in Late Antiquity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania, 2011). 9. See the more detailed discussion in Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 84–87. 10. Louis Finkelstein, Sifra on Leviticus (5 vols.; New York: JTS, 1983–1992). 11. Avraham Shoshana (ed.), Sifra on Leviticus (Hebrew) (3 vols.; Jerusalem: Ofeq Institute, 1991–1998). 12. H. Weiss (ed.), Sifra: Commentar zu Leviticus (Vienna: Schlossberg, 1862). 13. Louis Finkelstein, Sifra or Torat Kohanim (New York: JTS, 1956). On the importance of this manuscript, see the brief discussion in Menahem Kahana, Manuscripts of the Halakhic Midrashim: An Annotated Catalogue (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1995), 62–63, and the extensive analysis in Shlomo Naeh, “The Tannaitic Hebrew in the Sifra According to Codex Vatican 66” (Hebrew) (diss., Hebrew University, 1989). Sifra fragments from the Genizah are not included in M. Kahana’s The Genizah Fragments of the Halakhic Midrashim (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2005). It is hoped that they will be published in the future. MS Assemani ends on p. 105 of the Weiss edition, ten pages short of the end; subsequent derashot are cited according to MS New York (JTS Rab 2171). A full citation would include the division into megillot (scrolls), as Shlomo Naeh demonstrated in his important study, but this is a codicological division that does not affect the midrashic substance, and I have omitted it. See Naeh, “The Structure and Division of Torat Kohanim (A): Scrolls,” Tarbiz 66 (1997): 54–104, and “The Structure and Division of Torat Kohanim (B): Parashot, Perakim, Halakhot,” Tarbiz 69 (1999): 483–515 (both in Hebrew). 14. The website is housed by Bar-Ilan University: http://www.biu.ac.il/JS/tannaim. 15. Shachne Koleditzky (ed.), Sifra with the Commentary of Rabbenu Hillel (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: n. p., 1992). On the shortcomings of this edition, the gravest of which is the editor’s decision to privilege MS Vienna over other witnesses, see Menahem Kahana’s review in Qiryat Sefer 63 (1990): 271–280 (Hebrew). 16. The commentary is included in Weiss’s edition of the Sifra. 17. Sifra with Derekh ha-Qodesh Commentary (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Dovevi Siftei Yeshenim, 1985). 18. Sefer Torat Kohanim with the Commentaries of Rabad of Posquieres, Rabbi Samson of Sens, and the Gaon of Vilna (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Sifra, 1959). On this commentary, see E. E. Urbach, The Tosafists: Their History, Writings, and Methods (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1986), 312–315. 19. The commentary, Ha-torah ve-ha-mitzvah, was published, along with his essay “Ayelet ha-Shaḥar,” in Sefer Vayiqra (Bnei Brak: Mosdot Hasidei Alexander, 2000). 20. Jacob Neusner, Sifra: An Analytic Translation (3 vols.; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988). 21. The problems with Neusner’s translation are legion. Inter alia, he does not pay proper attention to the relationship between the biblical and rabbinic statements, as when



Notes to Pages 2–9

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he translates the tautological gloss ger—ʾelu ha-gerim (which I have rendered “‘Alien’— these are the aliens”) using different English terms for each of the occurrences of ger: “Sojourners this refers to proselytes.” This translation obscures the critical fact that the Sifra is glossing the biblical term with the same word. Neusner also renders technical terms in imprecise ways. When Rabbi Yose attacks Rabbi Akiva and says ʾafilu ʾatah ­merabbeh kol ha-yom (“even if you offer ribbui arguments all day long”), this does not mean, as Neusner states, “even if you spend the whole day adding to the argument,” since ribbui is a mode of argument, not the accumulation of arguments. And the translation of mikan ʾamru as “in this connection sages have said” lessens the force of the formula, which, in fact, identifies a midrashic argument as the source of a dictum. The frequency with which these issues arise may be divined from the fact that all three of the above examples occur on a single page (Neusner, Sifra, 3:212–213 to ʾEmor parashah 7). 22. Howard L. Apothaker, Sifra: Dibbura deSinai: Rhetorical Formulae, Literary Structures, and Legal Traditions (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College, 2003). 23. See http://hebrew-treasures.huji.ac.il. 24. Apothaker, Sifra, 29–32. For a survey of philological scholarship on the legal midrashim more broadly, see Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 64–68. 25. Ronen Reichman, Mishnah und Sifra: Ein literarkritischer Vergleich paralleler Überlieferungen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998). 26. Yonatan Sagiv, “Studies in Early Rabbinic Hermeneutics” (Hebrew) (diss., Hebrew University, 2009). I thank Dr. Sagiv for sharing his findings with me. 27. Ibid., 34. 28. Ibid., 39 n. 20 and 140–147. 29. Ibid., 40. 30. Jacob Milgrom, The Anchor Bible Commentary: Leviticus (3 vols.; New York: Doubleday, 1998–2000). Changes to Milgrom’s translation are noted. Biblical books other than Leviticus are quoted according to the NRSV. 31. See Milgrom’s justification of some of the more controversial renderings in his commentary: ḥaṭaʾt, 1:253–254; ʾasham, 1:231–232; terumah, 1:415–416. 32. The word “scripture” does not appear in the Hebrew, so a more precise rendering (used in Yadin, Scripture as Logos) would be “[Scripture] teaches, saying”; however, I have removed the brackets for stylistic reasons. 33. Azzan Yadin, “Resistance to Midrash? Midrash and Halakhah in the Halakhic Midrashim,” in Carol Bakhos (ed.), Current Trends in the Study of Midrash (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 57.

Chapter 1 1. In Hirschel’s account, the rabbinic interpreter is Rabbi Ishmael, though, in fact, it is cited in the name of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, a disciple of Rabbi Akiva’s. The error is probably due to the fact that the passage is preserved in the Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael

234 n o t e s t o pa g e s 9 – 1 7 (Kaspaʾ 20, Horovitz-Rabin, 336; Lauterbach 3:188–189). Rabbi Ishmael (Mekhilta Kaspaʾ 20, Horovitz-Rabin, 335; Lauterbach 3:187) offers a different interpretation, correlating the three occurrences of the prohibition to the three covenants made between God and Israel: Sinai, the plains of Moab, and Mounts Gerizim and Eibal. 2. Chaim Tchernowitz (Rav Tzaʿir), Pirqe Ḥayyim (New York: Bitzaron, 1954), 16. Jay Harris refers to this passage in How Do We Know This, 271 n. 41. 3. Occurring at Exod. 23:19, Exod. 34:26, and Deut. 14:21. 4. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 49. 5. Ibid., 48–79. 6. Another formula, not discussed in Scripture as Logos, is ke-ḥotam ha-devarim (“as a concluding statement”), which appears in Sifre Numbers §20 (Kahana 1.54) and Sifre Numbers §38 (Kahana 1.101). Like lehafsiq ha-ʿinyan and ʾein dorshin teḥilot, this formula is concerned with cases in which a biblical word or phrase may not be interpreted, here because its repetition is explained by its role as concluding statement to the section. 7. Sifre Numbers §112, Kahana 1.‫יד‬. 8. Genesis Rabbah 1.14; Theodor-Albeck, 12. 9. B. Sanhedrin 51a. 10. Epstein, Prolegomena, 521–536. 11. The phrase “eat the sheʾer” and the parallel between “He rained down on the them the manna to eat” and “he rained sheʾer upon them” suggest that the term denotes food. The sexual meaning of ʿonah is supported by the occurrence of the root ʿ-n-h in the narrative of Shechem’s rape of Dinah. 12. Commanded at Exod. 29:27–28; fulfilled at Lev. 9:21. 13. I am using the term “tautology” a bit loosely here, as these are, in fact, different entities: the first is the word, the second is the object designated by the word. 14. Pseudo-Rabad, ad loc. 15. Ibid. 16. On the Cherubim §57, translated by F. H. Colson (Loeb Classical Library, vol. 227), 43. 17. This line of argument calls into question the prevalent view that glosses without dialectical development or Mishnah-Tosefta insertions count as “simple exegesis” and represent an early substratum of the Sifra or of rabbinic interpretation more generally. See, e.g., the redactional schema that Günter Stemberger has proposed for the Sifra in “Zur Redaktionsgeschichte von Sifra,” in Jacob Neusner (ed.), Approaches to Ancient Judaism (n.s.), vol. 11 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 39–82, and, more recently, Stemberger, “The Redaction and Transmission of Sifra,” in Aaron Amit and Aharon Shemesh (eds.), Melekhet Mahshevet: Studies in the Redaction and Development of Talmudic Literature (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2011), *51–*61. See also the general claims of Avraham Goldberg, “The Early and the Late Midrash” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 50 (1981): 94–106. I am suggesting that, in some cases, the formal simplicity of the gloss does not correspond to hermeneutic simplicity. 18. See Alexander Samely, “Scripture’s Implicature: The Midrashic Assumptions of Relevance and Consistency,” Journal of Semitic Studies 37 (1992): 167–205, at 178. I note as an aside that David Ben-Gurion invoked Rabbi Akiva in his ongoing battle against the



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use of ʾet in modern Hebrew: “Anywhere that the absence of ʾet is not meaningful—it is superfluous; and every superfluous word entails a waste of energy, paper, ink, print and expenses. . . . Our sages sensed as much and this is why Rabbi Akiva offered mountains of expositions on ʾet, just as he did for ‘akh and gam” (letter to Y. Peretz, dated December 31, 1952; posted at http://bengurionblog.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post_07.html). With this interpretation, Ben-Gurion effectively recruited Rabbi Akiva’s putative linguistic sensibilities in service of the economic austerity prevalent at the time. 19. Moshe Halbertal, Concealment and Revelation: Esotericism in Jewish Thought and Its Philosophical Implications, translated by Jackie Feldman (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007), 9. 20. Lev. 13:52 at Tazriʿa pereq 15.1, Weiss 69a; TK 284; and Lev. 14:45 at Metzoraʿ pereq 5.1, Weiss 74a; TK 308. 21. David Weiss Halivni, “Displaced Mishnayot” (Hebrew), Sidra 5 (1989): 63–88; Menahem Kahana, “Three Displaced Controversies in the Study Houses of Rav and Shmuel” (Hebrew), in Moshe Bar-Asher and David Rosenthal (eds.), Meḥqere Talmud II (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2003), 302–333. 22. Apothaker, Sifra, 95. Bracketed comments are Apothaker’s. 23. Chana Safrai and Avital Campbell Hochstein, Women Out, Women In: The Place of Women in Midrash (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Miskal, 2008), 118. 24. Malbim, ad loc. 25. Malbim, “Ayelet ha-Shaḥar,” §150. 26. The log is a biblical and rabbinic measure of volume roughly equal to one-third of a liter. 27. Thus Assemani 66; “of water” is absent in other witnesses. 28. Nedavah parashah 3, Weiss 5a–c; TK 15–18. 29. The derashah is cited according to MS Munich. 30. I thank Tzvi Novick for steering me clear of an erroneous reading here. 31. As we find in 5:11: “He shall not put oil upon it or place frankincense on it, for it is a purification offering.” 32. Thus NRSV; Milgrom: “a tetter.” 33. Milgrom takes ṭahor huʾ to refer to the examined individual and translates “it is a rash that has broken out on the skin; he is pure.” I have altered Milgrom’s translation to reflect the understanding of the verse that underlies the Sifra’s argument. 34. The word ger means “stranger” or “resident alien” in biblical Hebrew but comes to mean “proselyte” in rabbinic discourse. I have maintained the biblical sense, since the semantic change does not come into play in the analysis of the derashah. 35. It contains tautological glosses (“Israel”=Israel) as well as non-tautological readings with no apparent justification, the most blatant being the division of the biblical phrase “who resides among them”—an adjectival clause modifying “alien”—into two discrete units: “who resides” refers to the wives of the aliens; “among them” to woman and slaves. 36. In biblical Hebrew, repetition produces a distributive sense. Just as “You shall set aside year year [shanah shanah] a tenth part of all the yield” (Deut. 14:22) means “every

236 n o t e s t o pa g e s 2 4 – 3 1 year,” and “And much as she coaxed Joseph day day [yom yom]” (Gen. 39:10) means “every day,” so, too, “person person” refers to each or every person. See Waltke and O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 7.2.3. On this phrase in the priestly literature, see Milgrom, Leviticus 1:906 and 2:1453. 37. Similarly, the Sifra interprets Leviticus 22:4 (“Any man [ʾish ʾish] of Aaron’s offspring who has scale disease . . . may not eat of the sacred donations until he is pure”) but does not refer to the repetition. See ʾEmor pereq 4.1, Weiss, 96c; TK 427. 38. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 50–54.

Chapter 2 1. On Śar Torah (“Prince of Torah”), part of the Hekhalot literature, see Michael Swartz, Scholastic Magic: Ritual and Revelation in Early Jewish Mysticism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 53–151. For a discussion of the manuscript traditions of this saying and of Śar Torah’s critique of Babylonian scholasticism, see Moulie Vidas, Tradition and the Formation of the Talmud (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2014), 169–180. 2. Pseudo-Sens, ad loc. 3. Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2, Weiss 84c; TK 363. 4. For a fuller list, see Epstein, Prolegomena, 521–536. 5. I have bracketed some words to create the phrase “a rash is pure,” as per the discussion that follows. 6. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 86–87 and 108. 7. The role of kol in these derashot was noted by Michael Chernick, Hermeneutical Studies in Talmudic and Midrashic Literatures (Hebrew) (Lod, Israel: Habermann Institute, 1984), 15. 8. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 86–88. 9. Sigmund Freud, Beyond the Pleasure Principle, translated by C. J. M. Hubback (London: International Psychoanalytic Press, 1922), 12–15. 10. See also Nedavah pereq 8.3, Weiss 8c; TK 32: §2.10N, “‘If his offering to the Lord is a burnt offering of birds, he shall present a turtledove or a young pigeon as his offering’ (Lev. 1:14): Since the young pigeons, who are not ritually fit as adults, are ritually fit as youth, does it not stand to reason that turtledoves, who are ritually fit as adults, be ritually fit as youth? Scripture teaches, saying ‘turtledoves’—adults and not youth.” But the Tosafot rightly object: “[This interpretation suggests] that were it not for the word ‘turtledove’ I could have derived the ritual fitness of young turtledoves by qol va-ḥomer (“inference from the lesser to the greater”). But can you say so? Had [Scripture] not stated ‘turtledoves’ we would not have known turtledoves are ritually fit for sacrifice?” (b. Ḥullin 22a, d”h: ‫)שיכול ומה בני יונה‬. The Tosafot naturally try to resolve the difficulty, but it remains vexing for Sifra interpreters. 11. See Christine Hayes, Between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmuds: Accounting for Halakhic Difference in Selected Sugyot from Tractate Avodah Zarah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 93–94; and, in greater detail, Elizabeth Shanks Alexander,



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Transmitting Mishnah: The Shaping Influence of Oral Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 77–116. 12. Pseudo-Rabad, “Lest you hold that the verse refers only to a situation in which one touches all of the swarming thing. Thus it states ‘any swarming thing,’ including even [contact with] a lentil’s worth [of the swarming thing].” Similarly Rabbenu Hillel, ad loc. 13. See also ʾEmor parashah 7.8, Weiss 98b; TK 435: §2.13N, “‘And whenever any person presents, from the herd or the flock, a well-being offering to the Lord for an expressed vow or as a freewill offering’ (Lev. 22:21): Whence to include the burnt offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘vow’; whence to include the thanksgiving offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘freewill’; whence to include the parturient offering and the Nazirite offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘expressed’; whence to include the firstborn offering and the tithe offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘from the herd; whence to include the purification offering and the reparation offering? Scripture teaches, saying ‘from the flock.’” The derashah contains one additional gloss, but it appears to be corrupt. 14. Thus MS Assemani 66. In some MSS “the woman” is a later addition. 15. As noted, the Sifra’s inconsistency troubled the classical commentators as well. See, e.g., the two derashot generated by the repetition “blood, blood” in Leviticus 1:5 (“Aaron’s sons, the priests, shall present the blood and dash the blood”): One (Nedavah parashah 4.7, Weiss 7c; TK 21–22) declares ritually fit the admixture of bloods from a burnt offering and other sacrifices. The other (Nedavah parashah 4.11, Weiss 6c; TK 22) does the same for “blood spilled from the neck of the beast to the floor and gathered.” Pseudo-Rabad states (ad loc.): “I find this perplexing, for we interpreted above ‘What is the instruction of [the second] “blood”? To declare ritually fit blood of a burnt offering that was mixed with blood of another burnt offering, etc.’ So can you now interpret it thus?” 16. No wonder Rabbi Vidal Serfaty (ad loc.) comments dryly: “This is a received tradition.” 17. The more radical claim—that the Sifra is governed by rules so obscure/mystical/ esoteric that they are not amenable to analysis on any level—is nothing more than special pleading. If a rule is never presented and its effects are not discernible, there are no grounds for positing its existence. 18. Note the tension in the derashah, since the repetition—which regularly, as here, leads to an inclusion—is of the preposition min (“from,” “of”), a hermeneutic marker that regularly introduces exclusion glosses. 19. Some of these derashot have been abbreviated. 20. See the discussion of Ḥovah parashah 1.6–pereq 1.3 to Lev. 4:2 (“When a person inadvertently does wrong”) below, §2.27. 21. The phrase “among them” introduces women in a number of derashot, including Aḥare Mot pereq 7.9 (Weiss 83a; TK 355); Aḥare Mot pereq 10.1 (Weiss 84a; TK 361); and Aḥare Mot pereq 11.1 (Weiss 84c; TK 364). 22. Similarly: “‘When any man [ʾish ʾish] has a discharge’ (Lev. 15:2): From this I learn only regarding the man [ʾish], whence do I include the woman and the minor? Scripture teaches, saying ʾish ʾish” (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 1.1, Weiss 74d; TK 311).

238 n o t e s t o pa g e s 3 7 – 4 2 23. See also the Sifra’s commentary to Leviticus 23:42, where the phrase “all the citizen [kol ha- ʾezraḥ]” yields three glosses: “‘Citizen’—this refers to the citizen; ‘the citizen’ to include the women; ‘all the citizen’—to include the minors” (ʾEmor pereq 17.9, Weiss 103a; TK 460). But in Leviticus 16:29, the Hebrew lexeme, “the citizen” (ha-ʾezraḥ), is glossed as follows: “‘Citizen’—this refers to the citizen; ‘the citizen’ to include the wives of the citizens . . . ‘among you’—to include women and slaves” (Aḥare pereq 7.9, Weiss 83a; TK 355). Both derashot gloss “the citizen” (ha-ʾezraḥ) as a ribbui and identify women as a category included by the verse, but in the first, “the citizen” includes women, while in the second, “the citizen” includes the wives of the citizens, and “among you” includes women (and slaves). The same biblical element yields different conclusions, while different biblical elements yield the same conclusion. Note: Some manuscripts read the Sifra’s gloss of “the citizen” in Leviticus 16:29 as “to exclude the wives of the citizen,” a reading attested in b. Sukkah 28a and b. Qiddushin 7a. If this reading is accepted, ha-ʾezraḥ, like nefesh, generates both miʿuṭ and ribbui (see immediately below). On this reading, see Yekutiel Neubauer, “Halakhah and Midrash Halakhah,” in his Ha-Rambam ʿal Divrei Soferim (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1957), 110–111. 24. This difficulty undoubtedly underlies Rabbi Vidal Serfaty’s comment on the Sifra’s conclusion: “It is not based on Scripture.” 25. See, e.g., Tzav pereq 14.7, Weiss 38a; TK 167. 26. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 32. 27. Ḥovah parashah 4.2 (Weiss 19a; TK 80 [ø]); Tzav pereq 9.5 (Weiss 34a; TK 151 [ø]); Tzav pereq 12.7 (Weiss 35d; TK 159 [ø]); Tzav parashah 10.5 (Weiss 38c; TK 179 [ø]); Shemini pereq 7.4 (Weiss 52c; TK 219 [Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Nuri]); Qedoshim pereq 5.2 (Weiss 89c; 401–402 [Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Ishmael]); ʾEmor pereq 6.3 (Weiss 97d; TK 433 [ø]); ʾEmor pereq 13.3 (Weiss 101b; TK 449 [Rabbi Shimon]); ʾEmor pereq 17.10 (Weiss 103a; TK 460 [Rabbi Judah]); Behar parashah 3.1 (Weiss 107c [ø]); Behar pereq 9.3 (Weiss 110b [Rabbi Shimon]); Beḥuqotai pereq 4.3 (Weiss 111c [ø)]; Beḥuqotai parashah 4.1 (Weiss 113b [ø]); Beḥuqotai pereq 12.9 (Weiss 115a [ø]). 28. Tzav parashah 2.3 (Weiss 30c; TK 134 [Rabbi Akiva]); Tzav pereq 15.7 (Weiss 38b; TK 169 [Rabbi Ishmael]); Tzav parashah 11.2 (Weiss 39b; TK 172 [Rabbi (Judah)]; Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 7.3 (Weiss 78c; TK 329 [“it distinguished”] [ø]); Aḥare pereq 4.2 (Weiss 81c; TK 346 [“it distinguished”] [Rabbi Judah]). 29. Nedavah pereq 12.2 (Weiss 11a; TK 45 [“it establishes”] [Rabbi (Judah)]); Tzav pereq 8.7(Weiss 33b–c; TK 148 [“to establish”] [Rabbi Eliezer]); Qedoshim pereq 3.1 (Weiss 88a; TK 395 [Rabbi Akiva]); ʾEmor pereq 11.3(Weiss 100b; TK 445 ([ø]). 30. Nedavah pereq 19.4, Weiss 14d; TK 64 (“in the name of Rabbi Ishmael”). 31. Ḥovah parashah 12.7–8, Weiss 26d–27a; 119–120 (Rabbi Yaakov [Rabbi Akiva in Weiss edition] and Rabbi Yose the Galilean). 32. Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.7, Weiss 79a; TK 331 (Rabbi Nehemia). 33. Aḥare parashah 9.6, Weiss 85c; TK 369 (Rabbi Yose the Galilean). 34. Aḥare pereq 8.10, Weiss 83c; TK 357 (ø). 35. ʾEmor pereq 13.7, Weiss 101c; TK 450 (Rabbi Shimon).



Notes to Pages 42–46

239

36. Nedavah pereq 5.4 (Weiss 6d; TK 23 [ø]); Nedavah pereq 7.6 (Weiss 8a; TK 30 [ø]); Nedavah pereq 9.6 (Weiss 9b; TK 36 [ø]); Nedavah pereq 13.6–7 (Weiss 11c; TK 48 [ø]); Nedavah pereq 16.4 (Weiss 13b; TK 57 [ø]); Ḥovah parashah 1.6 (Weiss 15c; TK 67 [ø]); Ḥovah pereq 6.6–7 (Weiss 19b; TK 83 [ø]); Ḥovah pereq 19.5 (Weiss 25a–b; TK 113 [ø]); Ḥovah pereq 20.2 (Weiss 26a; TK 116 [ø]); Ḥovah pereq 21.7 (Weiss 27c; TK 122 [ø]); Ḥovah pereq 22.10 (Weiss 28a; TK 124 [ø]); Tzav parashah 1.8 (Weiss 29b; TK 130 [ø]); Shemini parashah 6.4 (Weiss 52d; TK 220 [ø]); Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 2.78 (Weiss 76b; TK 318 [ø but framed as dialogue with Rabbi Shimon]); Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 8.3 (Weiss 79a; TK 332 [ø]); Aḥare pereq 9.6 (Weiss 84a; TK 360 [ø]); Aḥare pereq 11.10 (Weiss 84c; TK 365 [ø]); ʾEmor pereq 20.6 (Weiss 104d [ø]); Beḥuqotai pereq 10.12 (Weiss 114a [ø]); Beḥuqotai ­parashah 8.2 (Weiss 114c [ø]). 37. Among them: Nedavah pereq 9.6 (Weiss 9b; TK 36); Ḥovah pereq 6.7 (Weiss 19b–c; TK 83); Ḥovah pereq 19.5 (Weiss 25a–b; TK 113). 38. Ḥovah pereq 21.7 (Weiss 27c; TK 122); Tzav parashah 1.8 (Weiss 29b; TK 129– 130); Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 2.4 (Weiss 75c–d; TK 315–316); Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 8.3 (Weiss 79a; TK 332). 39. Nedavah pereq 13.6 (Weiss 11c; TK 45); Aḥare pereq 9.6 (Weiss 84a; TK 360). 40. Leviticus 27:26 may mean that no one may consecrate the quadruped other than to the Lord, since it is already “a firstling to the Lord,” in which case, the two verses agree on the substance of the issue. For our purposes, the key issue is that Rabbi Ishmael understands them as contradictory (“cannot be consecrated” versus “you shall consecrate”). 41. “One verse says . . . another verse says. . . . It is impossible to say ‘consecrate’ for it is written ‘cannot be consecrated,’ and it is impossible to say ‘do not consecrate’ for it is written ‘you shall consecrate.’ Rather, you may consecrate it as an object whose estimated value falls to the Temple.” 42. Apothaker tries to elide the difficulty by recasting the anonymous voice as scriptural: “How do you understand [Scripture] as including it [the firstling] . . . but excluding it” (Apothaker, Sifra, 301). The bracketed insertion of “Scripture,” which is part of Apothaker’s translation, suggests the anonymous Sifra continues Rabbi Ishmael’s scriptural argument, but this harmonization is textually unjustified. Apothaker continues in the same vein, asserting that Scripture is performing the ribbui and miʿuṭ arguments as well: “Why does [Scripture] include it. . . . And [why does Scripture] exclude it.” This is a possible understanding of MS Vatican 31’s “‫ ומוציאו‬. . . ‫( ”מפני מה מביאו‬though the phrase is more naturally understood as a response to the second-person question that preceded it: “On what basis do you introduce?” and therefore implying a first-person agent). But MS Vatican 31’s is a singular reading, contravened by all other MSS (JTS Rab 2171; British Library Add. 16.406; Oxford Neubauer 151, and even Vatican 31’s close textual companion, Parma de Rossi 139), which reads ‫ ומוציאו‬. . . ‫מפני מה אני מביאו‬. 43. This translation follows MS Vatican 31, whose text is substantively identical with the MSS cited in the previous note, with the exception of British Library Add. 16.406, which likely transmits a different tradition altogether.

240 n o t e s t o pa g e s 4 8 – 5 4 44. See Hillel Baitner, “Sifre Zutaʾ Numbers, Parah: Textual, Interpretive, Linguistic, and Editorial Studies” (M.A. thesis, Hebrew University, 2011), 23–26. My thanks to Hillel Baitner for sharing his thesis with me. 45. This is the literal translation of the phrase that NRSV renders “shave your forelocks” and NJPS “shave the front of your heads.” 46. The derashah exhibits many characteristics of the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim. The phrase mah talmud lomar, “what is the instruction,” is typically Ishmaelian, as is the assumption that Leviticus 21:5 is intended to disambiguate a potentially misunderstood verse (Deut. 14:1). However, the question of Akivan-Ishmaelian provenance is secondary for the present discussion and, in any case, cannot be established with certitude. 47. On the form memuʿat and its cognates, see Shlomo Naeh, “Comments on Tannaitic Hebrew in Light of Sifra MS Vatican 66” (Hebrew), Language Studies 4 (1990): 271–295, esp. 284–286. 48. A superlinear addition in Assemani 66. 49. See, e.g., Mekhilta to Exod. 12:45: “Scripture limits [miʿeṭ ha-katuv] the time of eating [the paschal lamb].  . . . But will you argue the same about the contribution offering, in the case of which Scripture extends [ribbah ha-katuv] the time of eating it for those who may eat it?” (Mekhilta Pisḥa 15, Horovitz-Rabin, 54; Lauterbach 1:121). And the Sifre Numbers similarly speaks of “Scripture expanding [ribbah; ha-katuv is not attested in MS Vatican 32 but appears in other MSS] the number of disqualifications for sacrificial animals” but “limiting [miʿeṭ ha-katuv] the number of disqualifications for those making the sacrifice” (MS Vatican 32’s ‫ שמיעטה‬appears to be a scribal error; Kahana 2.260 n. 9) (Sifre Numbers §29, Kahana 1.84–85).

Chapter 3 1. Moses Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, 3:23, translated by Shlomo Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), 2:495. 2. David Zvi Hoffmann’s pioneering Le-ḥeqer midreshei ha-tannaʾim provides an extensive list of terminological differences. Later scholars have followed Hoffmann’s lead and provided increasingly thorough and comprehensive discussions of midrashic terminology. Among these: Epstein, Prolegomena, 521–536; Wilhelm Bacher, Die bibelexegetische Terminologie der Tannaiten, published as vol. 1 of Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur (1899; repr., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1965) (Bacher deals with aggadic midrash as well); Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 27 nn. 107 and 108; and Liora Elias Bar-Levav, “The Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimeon ben Yoḥai on the Neziqin Portion: Between Redaction and Creativity” (Hebrew) (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, 2007). My thanks to Dr. Avriel Bar-Levav for providing me with a copy of the dissertation. 3. This division is not absolute—a small number of Rabbi Ishmael midrashim ­introduce the initial, rejected interpretation with yakhol, e.g., Mekhilta Neziqin 12



Notes to Pages 54–58

241

(Horovitz-Rabin, 290; Lauterbach 3:95), Mekhilta Neziqin 17 (Horovitz-Rabin, 308; Lauterbach 3:130–131). 4. Some are little more than a restatement of the verse under discussion; others are broad conclusions qualified by the talmud lomar verse. Even when the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim introduce an interpretation that is not self-evident, the logic behind it is clear enough: “‘[When a person dies in a tent, whoever enters the tent and] all that is in the tent shall be impure seven days’ (Num. 19:14): I could understand this as referring to the straw and the dried branches, and the wood, and the stones, and the earth; Scripture teaches, saying: ‘A person who is pure shall take hyssop, dip it in the water [and sprinkle it on the tent and all the furnishings, on the persons who were there, and on whoever touched the bone, the slain, the corpse, or the grave]’” (Num. 19:18) (Sifre Numbers §126, Kahana 1.‫)מו‬.   The derashah is concerned with the scope of impurity imputed to the contents of a tent that has housed a corpse. Numbers 19:14 states that “all that is in the tent” is impure, and the Sifre Numbers suggests that impurity resides in “the straw and the dried branches, and the wood, and the stones, and the earth,” reading the verse as referring to the “natural” content of the tent. A few verses later, however, the Book of Numbers instructs that the purification process involves “the tent and all the furnishings.” True, “all that is in the tent” does not automatically elicit the distinction between the natural content of a tent and its furnishings, and the derashah’s initial “I could understand this as . . . ” is likely a rhetorical feint intended to highlight the relationship between the two verses. But if the derashah’s presentation is more calculated than it lets on, the insight that Numbers 19:18 defines the scope of “all that is in the tent” is real—indeed, insightful. For a fuller discussion, see Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 39–46. 5. See, e.g., the Sifra’s discussion of Leviticus 2:2, where the initial (yakhol) interpretation is refuted by Leviticus 2:9 (Nedavah parashah 9.2, Weiss 10a; TK 40). 6. Aḥare pereq 10.8, Weiss 84b; TK 362. An argument follows, demonstrating that this is not so. The prohibition against offerings not sacrificed at the Tent of Meeting has been variously interpreted as part of the effort to centralize the cult or an indirect polemic against ancestor worship. See the discussion in Milgrom, Leviticus 2:1468 and 2:1772–1785. 7. Shemini parashah 2.9, Weiss 48a; TK 205. 8. Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 10.1, Weiss 67a; TK 275–276. 9. Occasionally, a minayin statement is confirmed by reasoned argument (e.g., Mekhilta Pisḥa 4, Horovitz-Rabin, 12; Lauterbach 1:29). 10. Exodus introduces this scenario: “If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its nearest neighbor in obtaining one” (Exod. 12:4). 11. The word is not attested in Assemani 66, but the introduction of the legal rulings followed by the corroborating talmud lomar indicates that this is a minayin derashah. 12. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 52–53. 13. A more elaborate example is found in a series of yakhol arguments that exclude specific legal cases on the basis of Leviticus 11:34: “Any of the food that might be eaten shall become impure.”

242 n o t e s t o pa g e s 59 – 6 8 §3.13N “Any of the food that might be eaten shall become impure” teaches that vessels do not transmit impurity in the hollow of an earthenware vessel. “Any of the food that might be eaten shall become impure” teaches that animal feed does not transmit impurity in the hollow of earthenware vessels. “Any of the food that might be eaten shall become impure” teaches that the food does not transmit impurity unless it is the equivalent of the mass of an egg. “Any of the food that might be eaten shall become impure” teaches that food that is wrapped in a tightly covered lid in an earthenware vessel and placed in an oven does not contract impurity (Shemini pereq 9.1–2, Weiss 54c; TK 227). 14. The assignment of different teachings to “food” and “the food” in the previous endnote is particularly perpelxing, given that Hebrew does not have a freestanding definite article (like English “the”), so the indefinite “food” (and the purported contrast between “food” and “the food”) does not occur in the verse. 15. I am using the term “intertextual” in a very rudimentary sense, as denoting derashot that explicate one verse by adducing another as an intertext. 16. A long list of improper offerings follows. 17. This derashah is the source of §1.3. 18. The English term “byssus” (“choice linen”) ultimately derives from the Hebrew butz. 19. Much of the derashah is illegible in Assemani 66. 20. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 122–124. 21. Mekhilta Neziqin 17, Horovitz-Rabin, 307–308; Lauterbach 3:129–30. 22. See, e.g., Rabbi Shimon’s discussion of Lev. 1:10 in Nedavah parashah 5.3, Weiss, 7c–d; TK 27. 23. This last category, which the Sifra refers to as “the unique commandment,” was created by the rabbinic interpretation of Numbers 15, as we see from Sifre Numbers §112 (Kahana 1.‫)יב‬. See also Rabbenu Hillel’s discussion of this Sifra derashah, ad loc. 24. See the discussion in Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 52–53. 25. E.g., Nedavah parashah 5.3 (Weiss 7c–d; TK 27 [Rabbi Shimon]); Nedavah parashah 5.4 (Weiss 7d; TK 27 [Rabbi Eliezer]); ʾEmor pereq 19.5 (Weiss 104d; TK 466 [Rabbi Meir]). 26. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 52–53, 116–117, and below. The formula also appears in the Mishnah—e.g., in the scriptural debate between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai over the proper recitation of the Shema. “The House of Shammai says: ‘In the evening one should recline and recite and in the morning stand up and recite, as it says “when you lie down and when you rise up” (Deut. 6:7).’ The House of Hillel says: ‘One should recite according to their preferred way, for it is written “when you are on your way” (Deut. 6:7).’ If so, why was ‘when you lie down and when you rise up’ stated? To mark the time when people lie down and rise up” (m. Berakhot 1.3). Once the House of Hillel rejected the House of Shammai’s interpretation of “when you lie down and when you rise up” as instructing the proper carriage during the recitation of the Shema, it was incumbent upon them (at least in the eyes of the redactor—it is not clear that the second part of the passage is still attributed to the House of Hillel) to provide an alternate interpretation of the phrase. 27. E.g., the anonymous derashah at Ḥovah pereq 5.3–4, Weiss 18d; TK 79.



Notes to Pages 69–71

243

28. The Hebrew equivalent of these words is omitted by the Sifra. 29. E.g., “‘You shall eat [the paschal offering] hastily’ (Exod. 12:11): This refers to the haste of the Egyptians. You say ‘the haste of the Egyptians’ but perhaps it refers only to the haste of the Israelites? When Scripture states, ‘but not a dog shall growl at any of the Israelites’ (Exod. 11:7), behold the haste of Israel has been stated. Thus, what meaning do I establish for ‘You shall eat it hastily’? This refers to the haste of the Egyptians” (Mekhilta Pisḥa 7, Horovitz-Rabin, 22; Lauterbach 1.52). The Israelites did indeed proceed hastily, but this fact is established by Exodus 11:7, so the Mekhilta concludes that the haste mentioned in 12:11 must refer to something else—the haste of the Egyptians. 30. See also: §3.30N “When a woman has a discharge of blood for many days . . . [she shall be impure]” (Lev. 15:25): “Blood” that is proprietary to the woman, not “blood” on account of a fetus. Or perhaps “blood” of her own account and not “blood” on account of an extraneous factor. But when [Scripture] states “discharge” [zov], it includes the extraneous factors. What then do I establish for “blood”? “Blood” that is proprietary to the woman, not “blood” on account of a fetus. (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.5, Weiss 79a; TK 331) 31. As the analysis of each formula indicates, the division does not correspond to the Rabbi Akiva–Rabbi Ishmael midrashim. There are Sifra derashot, generally attributed to tannaitic sages, that employ the formulas in the same manner as the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim (Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.1, Weiss 78d; TK 331). References to “the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim” are shorthand for “the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and those derashot in the Sifra that employ the formulas in a similar manner.” 32. See Ishay Rosen-Zvi, “Terminology and Meaning: Toward a Hermeneutic Lexicon of Midrashic Terminology” (Hebrew), Jewish Studies, forthcoming. 33. “If so, why was this stated” is often partnered with another formula found in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim—“The interpretation is unwarranted” (ʾeino tzarikh). The latter rejects the proposed interpretation on the grounds that the instruction is available from another verse, while “If so, why was this stated” introduces the subsequent need to provide a new interpretation for the verse. ʾEino tzarikh appears once in the part of the Sifra associated with Rabbi Ishmael (Qedoshim pereq 10.2, Weiss 92c; not attested in MS Assemani 66; part of the misplaced Mekhilta de-ʿArayot [see Kahana, Manuscripts, 62]), as part of a named debate. It appears often in the Mekhilta and the Sifre Numbers. E.g., an anonymous sage suggests that the second stich of “Do not ascend my altar by steps that your nakedness may not be exposed upon it” (Exod. 20:23) is the source of the prohibition against a priest descending the altar by steps (the verse speaks only of ascent). Rabbi Ishmael rejects this as unnecessary, since this is already learned from Exodus 28:42 (“You shall also make for them [the priests] linen breeches to cover their nakedness”), and a new interpretation is proffered in its place (introduced by “What does Scripture teach, saying. . . ?”). See Mekhilta Baḥodesh 11, Horovitz-Rabin, 244–245; Lauterbach 2:291.

244 n o t e s t o pa g e s 7 3 – 75

Chapter 4 1. In tannaitic literature, the term halakhot regularly (though not exclusively) denotes extra-scriptural teachings, perhaps an ellipsis of halakhah le-moshe mi-sinai, “a ruling transmitted from Moses at Sinai.” On this phrase, see Christine Hayes, “Halakhah leMoshe mi-Sinai in Rabbinic Sources: A Methodological Case Study,” in Shaye J. D. Cohen (ed.), The Synoptic Problem in Rabbinic Literature (Providence, RI: Brown Judaic Studies, 2000), 61–117, esp. 66–77; Shmuel Safrai, “Halakhah le-moshe mi-sinai: History or Theology” (Hebrew), in Rosenthal and Sussman (eds.), Meḥqere Talmud I, 11–38. 2. Hoffmann, Le-ḥeqer, 1. 3. See Bacher, Die bibelexegetische Terminologie der Tannaiten 1.76, s.v.: ‫כאן‬. 4. Ezra Zion Melammed, Ha-yaḥas she-bein midreshei-halakhah la-mishnah ve-­latosefta (Jerusalem: n.p., 1967). See the brief overview in Elias, The Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimeon ben Yohai, 108. 5. See also Yakir Paz’s discussion of mikan ʾamru, in “Re-Scripturizing Traditions: Designating Dependence in Rabbinic Halakhic Midrashim and Homeric Scholarship,” in Maren Niehoff (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 269–298. 6. I limit my discussion to the Mekhilta as a proxy for the school of Rabbi Ishmael. 7. I have in mind statements such as “a man’s agent is like himself” (Pisḥa 3, HorovitzRabin, 11; Lauterbach 1:25, and Pisḥa 5, Horovitz-Rabin, 16; Lauterbach 1:40; appears in m. Berakhot 5.5); “kings rise after the third hour” (Pisḥa 13, Horovitz-Rabin, 44; Lauterbach 1:99; appears in m. Berakhot 1.2); an edifying statement about the conduct of “the pureminded people in Jerusalem” (Kaspaʾ 20, Horovitz-Rabin, 322; Lauterbach 3:161; appears in m. Gittin 9.8), and the like. All these are counted as Mishnah-based parallels by Melammed. 8. The mikan ʾamru passage does not appear in Lauterbach’s eclectic edition, which here follows MS Munich hebr. 117; MSS Oxford 151 and Casanata 2736 contain the formula. 9. The derashah reads: “‘Prepare for the third day; do not go near a woman’ (Exod. 19:15): On the basis of this, they stated: ‘A woman emitting a man’s semen on the third day is pure.’ ‘The proof is from Sinai’—these are the words of Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah.” The derashah is slightly different from its predecessors in that it does not provide a verse in support of the mikan ʾamru passage, but Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah’s statement “the proof is from Sinai” identifies the biblical commandment of Israelite men to avoid contact with their wives prior to the Sinai epiphany as the source of the ruling. Since the men are prohibited from touching their wives in preparation “for the third day,” the rabbis conclude that the impurity of intercourse dissipates by the third day, the same conclusion articulated in the apodictic statement “a woman emitting a man’s semen on the third day is pure.” 10. Pisḥa 16 (Horovitz-Rabin, 60; Lauterbach 1:135) introduces m. Berakhot 1.5, which cites Deut. 16:3 as a prooftext; Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin, 71; Lauterbach 1:161) introduces m. Bekhorot 2.6, which cites Exod. 13:12 as a prooftext; Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin, 71; Lauterbach 1:161) introduces m. Bekhorot 2.4 in the name of Rabbi Yose the Galilean, which cites Exod. 13:12 as a prooftext; Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin, 71; Lauterbach 1:161) introduces m.



Notes to Pages 76–79

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Bekhorot 1.7, which cites Exod. 13:13 as a prooftext; Baḥodesh 11 (Horovitz-Rabin, 243; Lauter­ bach 2:287) introduces m. ʾAvot 3.6, which cites Ps. 82:1, Amos 9:6, and Mal. 3:16 as prooftexts; Neziqin 3 (Horovitz-Rabin, 257; Lauterbach 3:24) introduces m. Bekhorot 1.7, which cites Exod. 21:8 as a prooftext. 11. I have translated according to the rabbinic interpretation that follows (the Masoretic text vocalizes ‫יֵ ָר ֶאה‬, “shall be seen”). On the theological underpinnings of these preclusions, see Aharon Shemesh, “The Holy Angels Are in Their Council,” DSD 4 (1997): 179–206. 12. All the more so because one of the terms, “minor,” is, in fact, explained midrashically by the School of Hillel at the end of the mishnah. 13. There are mikan ʾamru derashot in which the mishnaic dictum does not cohere with the verse, and those will be discussed later in the chapter. 14. See Epstein, Introduction to the Mishnaic Text (Hebrew) (2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes, 2000), 2:747–749; and the comments of David Weiss Halivni, Midrash, Mishnah, and Gemara: The Jewish Predilection for Justified Law (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986), 61, esp. n. 48. 15. See the discussion in Chapter 9 of this volume. 16. Nedavah parashah 9.9 (Weiss 10b; TK 41–42) introduces m. Menaḥot 3.3; pereq 12.4 (Weiss 11a; TK 45) introduces m. Menaḥot 6.4; parashah 14.2 (Weiss 13d; TK 60) introduces m. Zevaḥim 4.6. 17. Tzav pereq 6.8 (Weiss 32c–d; TK 144) introduces m. Zevaḥim 4.5; pereq 8.2 (Weiss 33a; TK 146) introduces m. Zevaḥim 8.12; pereq 8.6 (Weiss 33b; TK 147) introduces m. Sheqalim 8.6; parashah 9.7 (Weiss 37c; TK 166) introduces m. Pesaḥim 7.12. 18. Shemini parashah 7.3 (Weiss 53c; TK 223) introduces m. Kelim 2.2; pereq 10.2 (Weiss 55b; TK 230) introduces m. Kelim 5.7; pereq 10.4 (Weiss 55c; TK 231) introduces m. Kelim 5.9; pereq 10.7 (Weiss 55c; TK 231) introduces m. Kelim 5.11; pereq 10.9 (Weiss 55c–d; TK 232) introduces m. Kelim 6.2; pereq 10.10 (Weiss 55d; TK 332) introduces m. Kelim 5.2; pereq 11.9 (Weiss 56c; TK 336) introduces m. ʿUqtzin 1.3. 19. Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 1.4 (Weiss 60a; TK 251) introduces m. Negaʿim 2.1; pereq 2.3 (Weiss 60c; TK 253) introduces m. Negaʿim 6.7; parashah 2.4 (Weiss 61a; TK 355) introduces m. Negaʿim 1.1; pereq 2.3 (Weiss 61c; TK 256) introduces m. Negaʿim 2.2; pereq 4.3 (Weiss 63b; TK 262) introduces m. Negaʿim 2.4; pereq 4.4 (Weiss 63c; TK 262) introduces m. Negaʿim 2.3, which cites Lev. 13:12; pereq 8.7 (Weiss 66a; TK 272– 273) introduces m. Negaʿim 10.6; pereq 12.14 (Weiss 68a–b; TK 280) introduces m. Negaʿim 13.7; pereq 15.9 (Weiss 69b; TK 285) introduces m. Negaʿim 11.11. 20. Metzoraʿ Negaʿim parashah 5.11 (Weiss 73a; TK 302) introduces m. Negaʿim 2.3; parashah 6.3 (Weiss 73b; TK 303) introduces m. Negaʿim 12.1; pereq 4.2 (Weiss 73c; TK 304) introduces m. Negaʿim 12.6; pereq 4.7 (Weiss 73c; TK 305) introduces m. Negaʿim 12.6; parashah 7.12 (Weiss 74a; TK 308) introduces m. Negaʿim 13.1; pereq 5.3 (Weiss 74b; TK 309) introduces m. Negaʿim 13.3. 21. Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 1.7 (Weiss 75a; TK 313) introduces m. Zavim 2.2; pereq 5.4 (Weiss 77b; TK 323) introduces m. Niddah 10.3; pereq 6.5 (Weiss 77d; TK 326) introduces m. Miqvaʾot 8.3; parashah 4.1 (Weiss 78b; TK 327) introduces m. Niddah 5.3.

246 n o t e s t o pa g e s 79 – 85 22. Aḥare Mot pereq 11.4 (Weiss 84d; TK 364) introduces m. Ḥullin 6.4. 23. Qedoshim pereq 1.6 (Weiss 87b; TK 383) introduces m. Peʾah 4.6; pereq 1.9 (Weiss 87c; TK 384) introduces m. Peʾah 1.3; pereq 2.1 (Weiss 87c–d; TK 384) introduces m. Peʾah 2.1; pereq 2.5 (Weiss 87d; TK 385) introduces m. Peʾah 4.10; pereq 3.1 (Weiss 88a; TK 385) introduces m. Peʾah 7.7, which cites Deut. 24:21 and Lev. 19:10; pereq 3.2 (Weiss 88a; TK 385) introduces m. Peʾah 7.3; parashah 3.2 (Weiss 89d; TK 403) introduces m. ʿOrlah 1.2; pereq 8.8 (Weiss 91b; TK 408) introduces m. Babaʾ Batraʾ 5.10. 24. ʾEmor parashah 7.10 (Weiss 98b–c; TK 435) introduces m. Bekhorot 5.2; pereq 8.10 (Weiss 99c; TK 440) introduces m. Ḥullin 5.3; pereq 16.2 (Weiss 102c; TK 457) introduces m. Sukkah 3.13; parashah 13.1 (Weiss 103b; TK 461) introduces m. Menaḥot 8.4; pereq 18.4 (Weiss 104a–b; TK 463) introduces m. Menaḥot 11.6. 25. Behar pereq 1.1 (Weiss 105d) introduces m. Sheviʿit 5.1; pereq 1.3 (Weiss 106a) introduces m. Sheviʿit 8.6; pereq 1.5 (Weiss 106b) introduces m. Sheviʿit 4.2; pereq 1.10 (Weiss 106c) introduces Sheviʿit 4.7; pereq 3.5 (Weiss 107c) introduces m. Sheviʿit 9.5. 26. Beḥuqotai parashah 3.15 (Weiss 113a) introduces m. ʿArakhin 4.1. 27. Others introduce Tosefta parallels or dicta of unknown provenance. 28. On “the first mishnah” as a collection of halakhot, see Epstein, Introduction to the Text of the Mishnah, 2:804. 29. The Sifra interprets the command that “all the rest of the bull shall be taken away to a pure place outside the camp” (Lev. 4:12) as “outside the three camps,” referring to the well-attested idea that the Israelite’s desert encampment—and the Temple in Jerusalem—consisted of three discrete camps, one assigned to the broader populace, one to the Levites, and one to the priesthood; see Ḥovah pereq 5.3, Weiss 18d; TK 79. The Sifra understands Leviticus 16:27’s definite “the camp” as an indication that the garments of the priest who burned the purification offerings on Yom Kippur had already become impure when he left the first camp. 30. My thanks to Tzvi Novick for suggesting these terms. 31. I cite some of the passages in abbreviated form. 32. The word “not” is a superlinear addition in Assemani 66. 33. The word “not” is a superlinear addition in Assemani 66. 34. Thus NRSV; Milgrom translates “fret.” 35. In the Mishnah, the positions of Rabbi Meir and the sages are reversed. 36. See the sources cited above, n. 14. 37. Aḥare Mot parashah 4.9–pereq 6.1, Weiss 82a–b; TK 349–351. The Mishnah insertion takes up the entirety of Aḥare pereq 5, separating parashah 4.9 and pereq 6.1. See Melammed, Ha-yaḥas, 11. 38. See the mikan ʾamru at Shemini pereq 11.9, Weiss 56c; TK 236, which introduces m. ʿUqtzin 1.3 into an otherwise coherent and continuous derashah. A few Mekhilta passages similarly incorporate halakhot that do not cohere with the derashah, sometimes in frank contradiction to the Mishnah’s claims. See Mekhilta to Exod. 21:17 (Neziqin 5, Horovitz-Rabin, 266; Lauterbach 3:43–44), where a brief midrash by Rabbi Judah the Patriarch is identified as the basis for m. Sanhedrin 7.3; Mekhilta to Deut. 16:2 (perhaps



Notes to Pages 86–89

247

moved from another source) (Pisḥa 4, Horovitz-Rabin, 14; Lauterbach 1:32–33), where a brief midrash by Rabbi Judah is identified as the basis for m. Sheqalim 2.5; Mekhilta to Exod. 12:17 (Pisḥa 9, Horovitz-Rabin, 32; Lauterbach 1:73–74), where a midrash is identified as the basis for m. Pesaḥim 3.4–5, with some manuscript variation. Note that the second and third of these sources cite mishnayot characterized as “a general rule” by the Mishnah. See also the Mekhilta to Exod. 21:18–19 (immediately following the first of the above-cited passages), which contains a clear interpolation of m. Babaʾ Qamaʾ 8.1, without the formula mikan ʾamru (Neziqin 6, Horovitz-Rabin, 271; Lauterbach 3:55). 39. “To open a window” means to create an opening in the wall (rather than, as in contemporary parlance, to shift the glass pane covering the opening), thereby allowing light to enter a room. 40. Mekhilta Baḥodesh 8 (Horovitz-Rabin, 232–233; Lauterbach 2:260–261). The derashah also appears in Mekhilta Neziqin 5 (Horovitz-Rabin, 267; Lauterbach 3:46–47). According to most interpreters, the Mekhilta’s argument proceeds as follows: since “You shall not steal” is preceded by “You shall not murder” and “You shall not commit adultery” (Exod. 20:13–14), both capital offenses, the context instructs us that verse 15 similarly involves a capital offense—kidnapping, not property theft. The punishment for kidnapping is stated in Leviticus 21:16: “Whoever kidnaps a person, whether that person has been sold or is still held in possession, shall be put to death.” 41. A similar list in the Mekhilta merits comparison: “Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread” (Exod. 12:15): I could understand this to mean any unleavened bread. Scripture teaches, saying “you must not eat with [the Passover sacrifice] anything leavened” (Deut. 16:3). I conclude that this must be a thing that can be made into unleavened or leavened bread. And what are these? The five species, namely, wheat, barley, spelt, oats, and rye; precluding rice, millet, poppy seed, sesame, and legumes, which cannot be made into unleavened or leavened bread, since they rot. (Pisḥa 8, HorovitzRabin, 26; Lauterbach 1:60–61; parallels at Pisḥa 8 [Horovitz-Rabin, 29; Lauterbach 1:67] and Pisḥa 17 [Horovitz-Rabin, 64; Lauterbach 1:144]) This typical Rabbi Ishmael derashah builds on the discrepancy between Exodus 12:15’s positive commandment that the Israelites eat matzot (unleavened bread) and Deuteronomy’s prohibition against eating ḥametz (leavened food). Why matzot in one book and ḥametz in another? According to the Mekhilta, it is because Scripture is instructing the reader that unless a food is edible both in a leavened and an unleavened state, it is not prohibited during Passover. The Mekhilta lists grains that fit these criteria (“wheat, barley, spelt,” etc.) and grains and legumes (“rice, millet, poppy seed, sesame, and legumes”) that cannot be leavened, since they rot. The list is nearly identical to the Sifra’s (the Mekhilta alone has “legumes”), but its hermeneutic function could not be more different. The Mekhilta cites it as part of a coherent scriptural argument for precluding the list from the Passover prohibition, while the Sifra baldly asserts its exclusion from the sabbatical law.

248 n o t e s t o pa g e s 9 0 – 9 7 42. Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 4.5, Weiss 64d; TK 267. 43. ʾEmor pereq 5.5, Weiss 97c–d; TK 432. 44. Shemini pereq 7.2, Weiss 52b; TK 218. 45. Rabbi Vidal Serfaty, Derekh ha-Qodesh, ad Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 9.14, Weiss 66d; TK 275. Sagiv has made a similar observation regarding the Sifra to Leviticus 23:40 (“On the first day, you shall take for yourselves the fruit of a majestic tree: fronds of palms, branches of leafy trees, and willows of the brook”) and its Mishnah parallel at m. Sukkah 3.4. After analyzing the sources, Sagiv concludes that the Sifra is not offering a midrashic reading of Leviticus 23:40 but rather presenting halakhot in conjunction with the verses: “It is possible that the Sifra’s literary source is the Mishnah, the latter having been reworked into midrashic form by the Sifra’s editor.” See Sagiv, “Studies in Early Rabbinic Hermeneutics,” 149. 46. Discussed above, 34–36. 47. Yadin, “Resistance to Midrash,” 46–49. 48. The derashah (Ḥovah parashah 8.6, Weiss 22c; TK 99) states that an individual cannot adjure the entire congregation but rather must address each witness specifically. This is roughly the opposite of the biblical instruction that opens “When he has heard a public imprecation, etc.” but consistent with the Mishnah’s dictum: “If a man stood in the synagogue and said, ‘I adjure you that if you know of testimony concerning me, come and testify on my account,’ they are exempt unless he directs himself to someone in particular” (m. Shevuʿot 4.10). 49. Perhaps this reading is justified by the repetition of the second-person address— “When you enter the land and plant any kind of fruit tree . . . it shall be forbidden for you.” 50. The Mishnah’s contradicting positions are not problematic, since they do not claim the same source: the anonymous first tradent and Rabbi Judah are recipients of different extra-scriptural traditions, and both are recorded here. It is only when the Sifra presents them as midrashic conclusions from the same biblical phrase that we run into difficulty. 51. Apothaker (Sifra, 287–289 and 360–361) tries to redeem the midrashic force of the Sifra debate, but his suggestion that the debate is generated by “differing interpretations of ambiguous antecedents” (289) ignores the fact that the tannaitic debate does not revolve around the interpretation of Scripture. 52. I have altered Milgrom’s translation to better reflect the rabbinic discussion. 53. Though less likely, it is possible that the ribbui is motivated by the redundant tishavaʿ levaṭeʾ vi-śfatayim (lit., “vows to express with his lips”), or the generally prolix language of Leviticus 5:4–5: “Or when a person utters by his lips an oath for harm or benefit—every matter anyone may utter in an oath—and, though he has known it, the fact escapes him but [thereafter] he feels guilt in any of these matters; if he feels guilt in any of these matters” (Lev 5:4–5). 54. As a result, it is not possible to attribute clause (Si) to Rabbi Akiva—to extend “the words of Rabbi Akiva” at the end of (Sii) to cover both (Si) and (Sii)—since he offers an alternate interpretation in (Siv). 55. See also §4.55N: “‘If anyone [ʾish ʾish] of the house of Israel or of the aliens who may reside among them . . . offers up a burnt offering or a [well-being] offering’ (Lev.



Notes to Pages 97–104

249

17:8): ‘Israel’—this refers to Israel; ‘alien’—this refers to the aliens; ‘who may reside’—the wives of the aliens; ‘among them’—to include women and slaves; if so, why does [Scripture] state ʾish ʾish? To include two individuals who offered an offer, the words of Rabbi Shimon” (Aḥare pereq 10.1–2, Weiss 84a; TK 361). The concluding argument of the derashah posits ʾish ʾish as the basis for a ruling concerning two men—an ʾish and another ʾish—who partake in one offering. This derashah, which links the linguistic repetition ʾish ʾish to a “repetition” of cultic agents, appears in b. Zevaḥim 98b in the name of Rabbi Shimon, without the glosses that precede it in the Sifra. It is possible that the Sifra’s editors recontextualized Rabbi Shimon’s derashah so as to associate an established ʾish ʾish argument with the Sifra’s semantically discontinuous ʾish ʾish derashot, and with the problematic ribbui glosses more generally. 56. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 97–121. 57. On the nature and scope of the blood prohibition, see Milgrom, Leviticus, 1:704–714. 58. I have been unable to find a corresponding extra-scriptural dictum. 59. See the brief discussions of similar phenomena in the Mekhilta of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai and the Sifre Zutaʾ Numbers in Elias Bar-Levav, “The Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimeon ben Yoḥai,” 184–199, and Baitner, Sifre Zutaʾ Numbers, 91–97, respectively. 60. See the interesting analysis of Shraga Goletz, who finds significant differences (terminological, hermeneutic) between Sifra pericopes, “Torat Kohanim: Dibbura deNedavah, Parashah 2 and Pereq 3: Uniform Midrash or Collection?” (Hebrew), Sidra 14 (1998): 25–37. Goletz suggests that pereq 3 is a late addition, since “the last editors of the Sifra believed that every word in the Torah is intended for interpretation,” 37. 61. Neusner has discussed the relationship between the Sifra and the Mishnah in a number of studies, often in terms that are of no analytic value. I am thinking particularly of the claim that the Sifra offers a “critique of the generative principle of Mishnaic classification . . . [that] derives from the Sifra’s authorship’s insistence that Scripture, that Scripture alone, defines the right ordering and classification of things” (Uniting the Dual Torah: Sifra and the Problem of the Mishnah [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990], 77), i.e., “a critique of designating classifications of things without scriptural warrant” (Introduction to Rabbinic Literature [New York: Doubleday, 1994], 274). Nonetheless, it should be acknowledged that Neusner has rightly recognized the problematic relationship between these texts.

Chapter 5 1. Abraham Joshua Heschel, Heavenly Torah as Refracted Through the Generations, translated by Gordon Tucker with Leonard Levin (New York: Continuum, 2007), 41 and 47. 2. Rabbi Akiva’s midrashic activity in the Mishnah is meager and unremarkable— not surprising, since the Mishnah is not a midrashic collection. Of the hundreds of times that he is cited in the Mishnah, only a handful of passages involve scriptural interpretation. Among these are m. Yebamot 12.3, where Rabbi Akiva disputes with Rabbi Eliezer

250 n o t e s t o pa g e s 10 4 – 10 7 regarding the ceremony that releases a potential husband from levirate marriage, and the two offer competing interpretations of Deuteronomy 25:9; m. Keritot 2.5, where Rabbi Akiva learns the status of a servant woman who must bring an offering from Leviticus 19:20; m. Makkot 1.7—Rabbi Akiva’s interpretation of the witness injunctions of Deuteronomy 17:6; m. Sanhedrin 10.4—Rabbi Akiva concludes that people are executed on the pilgrimage holidays on the basis of Deuteronomy 17:13; and m. Peʾah 7.7—a midrashic dispute involving the status of a vineyard containing fallen or defective clusters, with Rabbi Akiva interpreting Leviticus 19:10. 3. Parallel at Sifra Ḥovah pereq 1.8, Weiss 16b; TK 71 (in the margins). 4. See M. Kahana, “On the Fashioning and Aims of the Mishnaic Controversy” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 73 (2004): 51–81, esp. the discussion at 71–76. Kahana highlights the shift in Rabbi Akiva’s role as the series progresses, initially posing the questions, then responding to Rabbi Yehoshua’s answer, and finally arguing forcefully with Rabbi Eliezer. On Rabbi Akiva as a midrashist, see Ishay Rosen-Zvi, “Who Will Uncover the Dust from Your Eyes: Mishnah Soṭah 5 and Rabbi Akiva’s Midrash” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 75 (2005– 2006): 95–128. 5. The phrase “the mishnah of Rabbi Akiva,” also appears in t. Maʿaśer Sheni 2.1 and 2.12. Lieberman (Tosefta ki-feshuta: Zeraʿim, 731) offers a minimalist understanding of this phrase, as referring to a specific halakhah; but see Chanoch Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1967), 74–75. 6. Similar exchanges, with Rabbi Akiva relinquishing his initial position and adopting that of his interlocutor, occur in m. Ḥullin 4.2 (adopting the position of Rabbi Yeshbav, who cites the position of Rabbi Yehoshua) and several times in the Tosefta as well, e.g., t. Zavim 1.6 (the position of Rabbi Shimon), t. ʿUqtzin 3.2 (the position of Rabbi Judah), and t. Sheviʿit 2.13 (the position of Rabbi Yehoshua). In both m. Taʿanit 4.4 and t. Ḥullin 2.9, the tradent in question is Rabbi Yehoshua, and these sources should be added to Rosen-Zvi’s list of passages in which Rabbi Akiva supports his master’s halakhot (“Who Will Uncover the Dust from Your Eyes,” 125 n. 147). See also, in the Sifra itself, Shemini pereq 10.5–6 (Weiss 55c; TK 231), in which Rabbi Akiva reverses his din argument to support Rabbi Eliezer’s comment. 7. Naeh (The Tannaitic Hebrew in the Sifra, 351) argues that “strike my sons” is a more accurate translation, but as Daniel Boyarin has pointed out (personal communication), loss of children is a standard trope in oaths in the ancient world. Regardless of its proper translation, the root q-p-ḥ plays on Rabbi Tarfon’s characterization of the received tradition as mequpaḥat (“perverted”), suggesting that this passage is the source of Rabbi Tarfon’s oath, which later migrated to the other Rabbi Akiva–Rabbi Tarfon debates. 8. Referred to in Rosen-Zvi, “Who Will Uncover the Dust from Your Eyes,” 125 n. 147. 9. See also Rabbi Shimon’s affirmation of the priority of received tradition: “Not so [i.e., it is not a logical argument], but I declare an oral tradition [halakhah]” (m. Yebamot 8.3). 10. Parallel at Sifre Deuteronomy §104 (Finkelstein 163; Hammer 150). 11. Some commentators argue that the excluding force of the derashah derives from the sequence of repetitions, akin to the rabbinic rule that a ribbui that follows a ribbui



Notes to Pages 108–113

251

functions as a miʿuṭ. However, this rule is applied to ribbuyim that occur within a single verse or passage, not over the span of different biblical books. 12. The main works discussed in the following are Jeffrey Rubenstein, “Theodicy and Torah (Menaḥot 29b),” constituting chap. 9 of his Stories of the Babylonian Talmud (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 2010), 182–202; Shlomo Naeh, “The Script of the Torah in Rabbinic Thought (B): Transcriptions and Thorns” (Hebrew), Leshonenu 71 (Hebrew) (2010): 89–123; Nachman Levine, “Reading Crowned Letters and Semiotic Silences in Menachot 29b,” JJS 52 (2002): 35–48; Daniel Boyarin, Socrates and the Fat Rabbis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 231–233; L. L. Edwards, “Rabbi Akiba’s Crowns: Postmodern Discourse and the Cost of Rabbinic Reading,” Judaism 49 (2000): 417–435; Yair Furstenberg, “The Agon with Moses and Homer: Rabbinic Midrash and the Second Sophistic,” in Maren Niehoff (ed.), Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 299–328. 13. Rubenstein, “Theodicy and Torah,” 182–183. 14. Levine, “Reading Crowned Letters,” 36. 15. Boyarin, Socrates and the Fat Rabbis, 232–233. 16. Edwards, “Rabbi Akiba’s Crowns,” 418, and Furstenberg, “The Agon with Moses and Homer,” 304. 17. Naeh, “The Script of the Torah,” 108–111. 18. Ibid., 107. 19. Ibid., 111. 20. Naeh cites this and other sources in “The Script of the Torah,” 114 n. 124. 21. Ibid., 116. This claim is addressed in Chapter 8 of this volume. 22. Rubenstein, “Theodicy and Torah,” 184. 23. It was from Shlomo Naeh that I learned the importance of incorporating the corresponding mishnah into any reading of the Talmud, so while my conclusion regarding the Menaḥot narrative differs from his, it nonetheless fulfills the rabbinic dictum:‫הרשני‬ ‫לומר לפניך דבר אחד שלמדתני‬. 24. Thus MS. Kaufmann. 25. The letters ‫ כתב‬could be read as a finite verb (“even if he wrote one”), but parashah is feminine and cannot be the referent of the masculine ʾeḥad and is vocalized with a shwa and qamatz in MS Kaufmann. 26. See, e.g., Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura: “Even a single letter whose writing bleeds into another . . . invalidates a mezuzah or a scroll of tefillin or a Torah scroll.” 27. The dictum “One who tears a hide in the form of a ketav is exempt; one who draws on a hide the form of a ketav is liable” (t. Shabbat 11.8 [12.8]) may be referring to “the form of a letter,” though this interpretation rests on the explicit mention of “shape” (tavnit). Unqualified ketav would not unambiguously denote a letter. 28. Or “the four portions of the tefillin.” 29. Rubenstein notes “an intriguing resonance” between the sage’s name and meʿakev (“Theodicy and Torah,” 185) in the Bavli narrative, but does not examine the Mishnah. 30. See Naeh, “The Script of the Torah,” 107 n. 96.

252 n o t e s t o pa g e 1 1 4 31. The statement that Rabbi Akiva “is going to interpret from every qotz heaps and heaps of halakhot” deserves comment inasmuch as tannaitic halakhot are extra-scriptural traditions: one “receives” or “hears” halakhot, whereas the Babylonian Talmud has Rabbi Akiva, paradoxically, producing halakhot scripturally. The juxtaposition of doresh and halakhot appears in the Erfurt manuscript of the Tosefta: “Rabbi Akiva says: ‘Rabbi Eliezer interpreted [haya doresh] three hundred halakhot in the matter of “You shall not tolerate a sorceress” (Exod. 22:17), but I only learned two matters from him: If two were gathering cucumbers [by sorcery], one gatherer may not be culpable and the other gatherer may be culpable; he that performed the act is culpable, but he that deceived the eyes is not culpable’” (t. Sanhedrin 11.5). But this passage fits nicely with Pinhas Mandel’s argument that darash in tannaitic sources often means “expound publicly” (Pinhas Mandel, “Rabbi So-and-So Darash: A Reexamination” [Hebrew], Dapim: Research in Literature 15–16 [2009]: 27–55). After all, Rabbi Eliezer darash halakhot “in the matter of [be-ʿinyan] ‘You shall not tolerate a sorceress’”; he did not darash the verse itself. Moreover, Rabbi Akiva’s legal lessons are presented as halakhot and not derashot—neither statement concerning the cucumber gatherers refers to Exodus 22:17, and the same teachings appear as apodictic traditions in the Mishnah parallel (m. Sanhedrin 7.11). None of these considerations applies to the phrase doresh halakhot in Bavli Menaḥot, whose explicitly textual theme (God is a scribe composing the Torah) indicates that the phrase refers to textual midrash. Note that parallel in ARNA 25 reads shoneh, “recite,” rather than doresh. See Avot de-Rabbi Natan: Synoptische Edition beider Versionen, ed. Hans-Jürgen Becker (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 204–205. 32. If the phrase doresh halakhot (“interpret halakhot”) represents a conscious attempt to assimilate halakhah into the category of midrash, the picture becomes starker still, as Rabbi Akiva’s midrashic activity suggests that even halakhot require scriptural grounding. 33. The most striking passage in this regard involves the ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan parallel to m. ʾAvot 1.16–2.7. The Mishnah interpolates the household of the patriarch into the earlier scholarly genealogy that began with Moses at Sinai (see the discussion in Amram Troper, Wisdom, Politics, and Historiography: Tractate Avot in the Context of the GraecoRoman Near East [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004], 21–28). ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, however, replicates the genealogical list without including the patriarchs, suggesting that it had as its Vorlage an early version of m. ʾAvot that predated the patriarchal interpolation. See Menahem Kister, Studies in Avot de-Rabbi Natan: Text, Redaction, and Interpretation (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 1998), 117–118. 34. M. B. Lerner, “The External Tractates,” in S. Safrai (ed.), The Literature of the Sages (2 vols.; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1987), 1:377. 35. See Kister, Studies in Avot de-Rabbi Natan, 193–217, esp. 206–212. See also Tal Ilan, Mine and Yours Are Hers: Retrieving Women’s History from Rabbinic Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 79 n. 47, and the literature cited therein. 36. Jonathan Schofer, The Making of a Sage: A Study in Rabbinic Ethics (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2005), 29.



Notes to Pages 114–118

253

37. ARNA 6 (Becker edition, 80–81). See Judah Goldin, The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1955), 41–42. Rabbi Tarfon’s comments will be discussed in Chapter 6, below. 38. Goldin translates: “sense.” 39. This is the reading of Genizah fragment T-S NS 313.1, discussed below. 40. Yaakov Elbaum, “Linguistic and Conceptual Patterns” (Hebrew), Proceedings of the Seventh World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1981), 3:71–77. 41. Though here the attribution to Rabbi Akiva may be early and not a secondary development of the motif; see Elbaum, “Linguistic and Conceptual Patterns,” 3:73–74. 42. The following discussion is indebted to Catherine Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), esp. 40–67. Note her statement that it “is striking . . . that the Mishnah, Tosefta, and tannaitic Midrashim—just like Josephus and other Jewish writings from Second Temple times—never explicitly mention schools,” 48. 43. The entire passage, along with the preceding mishnah, is extant in MS Erfurt but absent in MS Vienna. 44. See the discussion of sending a tinoq to a Samaritan or pagan teacher in t. Avodah Zarah 3.1–2. The instruction in question may be vocational, as tinoq can mean “apprentice” in tannaitic Hebrew, on which see Azzan Yadin, “Qol ha-tinoqot” (Hebrew), Leshonenu 71 (2009): 73–77. 45. Discussed above, 104. 46. Kahana, “On the Fashioning and Aims of the Mishnaic Controversy,” 76–77. 47. I have opted to transliterate mishnah, since ṭaʿam mishnah could be translated as “the justification of a mishnah” or “the justification of the Mishnah.” Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer tell Rabbi Akiva a single halakhah, a response that seems to suggest that Rabbi Akiva is speaking of “a mishnah,” but the Hebrew is ambiguous. 48. Examples of the latter include m. Shevuʿot 4.3, t. Yomaʾ 1.16, and t. Zevaḥim 1.5. Bacher claims that ṭaʿam means “biblical prooftext” in the Palestinian aggadic corpora (Bacher, Die bibelexegetische Terminologie der Tannaiten, s.v.: 68–1.66 ‫)טעם‬. See also Abraham Rosenthal’s assertion: “In the language of the Palestinian Amoraim ‘what is the ṭaʿam’ = ‘what is the verse,’” in his “Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai: Theory and Practice” (Hebrew), in Moshe Bar-Asher and David Rosenthal (eds.), Meḥqere Talmud II, 463 n. 46. 49. ARNA 1 (Becker, 6–7; Goldin, 2). 50. Kister, Studies in Avot de-Rabbi Natan, 137. Ironically, this story, which lauds Rabbi Akiva’s ability to confound his teachers after they told him a single halakhah, is part of ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan’s commentary to Yose ben Yoezer’s saying, “Let your house be a meeting place for sages; sit in the dust of their feet and thirstily drink in their words” (m. ʾAvot 1.4). 51. The Hebrew is a calque of the Greek χράομαι, which means both “to use” and “to consult an oracle.” See Saul Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (New York: JTS, 1962), 194–199. See also Kris Lindbeck, “The Bat Kol as Means of Divination and as

254 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 1 8 – 1 2 2 Heavenly Voice,” paper presented at the 1997 SBL conference. I thank Prof. Lindbeck, who shared a written version of her talk with me, for her helpful comments. 52. Kallah Rabbati, chap. 2, Massekhet Kallah, ed. Michael Higger (New York: Moinester, 1936), 191–192. This passage has been discussed from a very different perspective in David Brodsky, A Bride Without a Blessing (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 146–148. 53. See the sources cited in Shamma Friedman, Tosefta Atiqta: Synoptic Parallels of Mishnah and Tosefta Analyzed with a Methodological Introduction (Hebrew) (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 2002), 93–95. 54. Translation, J. Slotki, Midrash Rabbah: Numbers (New York: Soncino, 1951), 2:756.

Chapter 6 1. Rabbi Akiva’s statement is the beginning of a long passage paralleled in m. Menaḥot 5.2–3. 2. Thus MS Vatican 66. Other witnesses attribute the statement to Rabbi Yose the Galilean. 3. Tzav pereq 8.1, Weiss 33a; TK 146. 4. ʾEmor parashah 7.2, Weiss 98a; TK 434. 5. Tzav pereq 11.4–6, Weiss 34d–35a; TK 155. 6. I have discussed these passages in “Resistance to Midrash,” 35–58. 7. Ibid., 53–54; Rosen-Zvi, “Who Will Uncover the Dust from Your Eyes,” 96–101, and the literature cited therein. 8. This is the reading of MS Vatican 66. Other MSS read: ‫שאין לו מקרא מן התורה‬. 9. Shlomo Naeh and Ishay Rosen-Zvi have questioned this understanding and proposed that the derashah is based on the imperfect rather than the perfect aspect of the verb: Shlomo Naeh, “Did the Tannaim Interpret the Torah Differently from the Authorized Reading?” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 61 (1992): 401–448; and Rosen-Zvi, “Who Will Uncover the Dust from Your Eyes,” 100 n. 23. The question is not relevant to the present discussion. 10. Naeh’s suggestion (The Tannaitic Hebrew in the Sifra, 371), that the issue does not hinge on scriptural authority but on general legal propriety (‫ שלא‬:‫ והכונה‬. . . ‫שלא מן התורה‬ ‫ שלא כהלכה‬,‫ )כתורה‬departs from the plain sense without justification. 11. Nedavah parashah 4.4–5, Weiss 6b; TK 21. 12. See my discussion in Scripture as Logos, 151–152. 13. For a discussion of the collection of the blood in Second Temple and rabbinic sources and the interpretive difficulties that arise from the attempt to anchor the practice in Leviticus 1:5, see Sagiv, “Studies in Early Rabbinic Hermeneutics,” 62–65, and the secondary literature cited therein. 14. In “Resistance to Midrash,” I translated “sacerdotal vestments.” Both understandings of keli sharet are attested among Sifra interpreters and modern scholars, but Sagiv’s arguments in favor of “vessel” (Sagiv, 67–68) are dispositive. 15. See Sagiv, “Studies in Early Rabbinic Hermeneutics,” 68–69.



Notes to Pages 122–124

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16. “Verses” (ha-ketuvim) is not attested in MS Assemani 66. 17. Tzvi Novick, “Din and Debate: Some Dialectical Patterns in Tannaitic Texts,” JSIJ 10 (2012): 1–29, points to another type of tension, presenting m. ʾAvot as a site of competition between a tradition-centered approach and an anti-traditionalist one that places the concept of truth at the forefront of its investigation. 18. Mandel’s claim (“Rabbi So-and-So darash”) that darash refers to the public exposition of teachings, rather than scriptural interpretation, can gain no purchase here. The narrative thematizes the contrast between Rabbi Akiva’s midrash and Rabbi Tarfon’s received tradition, as does the parallel story in Sifre Numbers §75. Mandel cites a number of darash formulas that are prima facie counterexamples to his thesis—among them dorshin leshon hediyot, katuv ha-tzarikh lehidaresh, and shtoq ʿad she-ʾedrosh—but defers their discussion to an unspecified time (38 n. 44). To that list, I would add doresh u-maskim la-shemuʿa (“Interprets and agrees with the oral tradition”) but remove middot she-ha-­ torah nidreshet. The latter appears only in the Baraita of Thirteen Middot and is likely a late reworking of zo middah ba-torah, as I showed in Scripture as Logos, 101–106. 19. Sifre Numbers §75, Kahana 1.178–179. 20. Menachem Fisch, Rational Rabbis: Science and Talmudic Culture (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997), 106. 21. In Assemani 66, a long discussion of the ribbui and miʿuṭ arguments intervenes between Rabbi Akiva’s derashah and Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah’s response. 22. Another uncertain derashah in this regard is: §6.22N “And should you say, ‘What are we to eat in the seventh year, if we may not sow or gather our crops?’” (Lev. 25:20): Rabbi Akiva said: “If they do not sow, what are they gathering? On the basis of this [mikan] are spontaneous growths [sefaḥim] prohibited on the sabbatical year.” But sages say that spontaneous growths are not prohibited on the basis of the words of the Torah but of the words of the scribes. (Behar pereq 4.5, Weiss 108a; MS New York 138a) Most commentators (see Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah, 50–51; Assaf Rosen-Zvi, “‘Even Though There Is No Proof to the Matter, There Is an Indication of the Matter: The Halakhic Authority of Non-Legal Scriptures” [M.A. thesis, Hebrew University, 2008], 15–19) view it as a dispute over the source of the ruling. After all, the sages state that the ruling is not “from the Torah” but rather from the words of the scribes, which implies that Rabbi Akiva holds the ruling to be scriptural and not a received tradition. Still, a number of considerations weigh against this interpretation. First, the ruling in question is explicitly stated in m. Sheviʿit 9.1 (“The sages say: all spontaneous growths are forbidden”), and it would be uncharacteristic of Rabbi Akiva to midrashically usurp the Mishnah that he elsewhere so fervently supports. Second, there is a near-parallel, also in Sifra Behar, where Leviticus 25:5 (“The spontaneous growth of your harvest you shall not reap”) is an ex post facto support for the same ruling: “On the basis of this [verse], the

256 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 2 4 – 13 1 sages [said] regarding the spontaneous growths that they are forbidden” (Behar pereq 1.3, Weiss 105d–106; MS New York 135b). Finally, the word mikan (“on the basis of this”) in Rabbi Akiva’s dictum suggests that it is, like the Behar near-parallel, intended as a support for an oral tradition, not a competitor. None of these is dispositive; but taken together, they cast substantial doubt on Albeck’s interpretation. In any case, my argument is not founded on dichotomies. If Rabbi Akiva offers a “competitor” derashah to the Mishnah (which is doubtful on philological grounds), he does not thereby negate the derashot in which he expressly harnesses midrash in support of received halakhot. 23. Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 5.4–5, Weiss 77b; TK 323–324. 24. For a similar derashah in the Mekhilta, see Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 56–57. 25. Milgrom translates: “adytum.” 26. I have altered Milgrom’s translation to better clarify the rabbinic reading. 27. The linguistic logic of this derashah is very similar to the following (on which, see Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 24–25): “‘The priest shall take sacral water in an earthen vessel and, taking some of the earth that will be on the floor of the Tabernacle, the priest shall put it into the water’ (Num. 5:17): Scripture [ha-katuv] states that if there was no earth there, he is to bring earth from another site and place it there, for the site [or: God] sanctifies it” (Sifre Numbers, §10, Kahana 1.36). 28. Other examples of textually attentive derashot by Rabbi Akiva include Nedavah pereq 6.1 (Weiss 7b; TK 25), where he interprets the repeated plurals “Aaron’s sons,” “the priests,” and “shall lay out [pl.]” in Lev. 1:8; Nedavah pereq 15.2 (Weiss 12d; TK 54), where he interprets the plural form “your first ripe fruits” in Lev. 2:14; Ḥova pereq 17.1 (Weiss 24a; TK 108), where he interprets the mem (“of”) in “of these” in Lev. 5:4 as a partitive genitive (the derashah also appears at Ḥova pereq 12.1 [appears as 11.1 in Weiss]; Weiss 22c; TK 100); Qedoshim pereq 5.2 (Weiss 89c; TK 401–402), where he interprets the phrase vehafdeh loʾ nifdatah (lit., “and ransomed she was not ransomed”) in Lev. 19:20 as indicating a partial ransoming; ʾEmor parashah 2.4 (Weiss 94d; TK 419), where he interprets the plural forms in Lev. 21:11; ʾEmor parashah 11.1 (Weiss 101c; TK 451), where he debates the meaning of shabbaton in Lev. 23:24 with Rabbi Eliezer; Behar pereq 9.1 (Weiss 110b), where he debates the meaning of “But if he does not redeem” in Lev. 27:20 with Rabbi Eliezer. 29. MS Assemani 66 cites a fragment of the verse that does not include the word kol as the prooftext. 30. See the discussion above, 28–29. 31. This literal translation highlights the repetition that underlies Rabbi Akiva’s argument. Milgrom has: “you shall treat its foreskin with its fruit as foreskin. Three years it shall be forbidden to you.” Note that the verse does contain the word kol (“When you enter the land and plant any [kol] kind of fruit tree”) but it is not cited by the derashah. 32. The lexeme appears in the following verse as well: “In the fourth year, all of its fruit shall be sacred” (Lev. 19:24). 33. I have altered Milgrom’s translation.



Notes to Pages 131–136

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34. Tzvi Novick has suggested (personal communication) that the implicit motive for such a reading may be to introduce a fourteen-day period for the birth of a boy that matches the fourteen-day defilement for the birth of a girl (Lev. 12:4). 35. Thus Assemani 66. Other witnesses have “you have sunk in great waters and emerged with shards,” on which see Naeh, Tannaitic Hebrew in the Sifra, 372, who identifies the expanded version as Babylonian. In either case, Rabbi Akiva is rejecting the student’s interpretation. 36. If so, §6.1 belongs with §6.18 and §6.19 as an example of textually anchored Akivan ribbui derashot. 37. The classic statement in this regard—cited above, 11–12—involves the Rabbi Akiva ruling that the betrothed daughter of the priest who is involved in sexual infidelity is to be burned on the basis of the difference between bat (“daughter”) and u-vat (“and the daughter”) in Leviticus 21:9. This statement provokes Rabbi Ishmael’s incredulous response: “Because you interpret [the difference between] bat and u-vat [the opening vav,] we are to send her off to be burnt?” (b. Sanhedrin 51a). 38. Contemporary scholars have, largely on the evidence of verses such as this one, suggested that ʾim can also have a concessive force, as when Milgrom translates: “If, however, a person errs.” Even if true, there is no evidence that the tannaim were aware of this sense. 39. It should also be noted that Rabbi Tarfon objects to this reading, and Rabbi Akiva ultimately acknowledges that Rabbi Tarfon’s position is preferable. 40. Shemini pereq 1.5, Weiss 47a; TK 200. 41. The only other named “introduction” derashah that has no clear scriptural anchor (as far as I can tell) is §1.15 (Aḥare parashah 8.2, Weiss 84c; TK 363)—though note the structural similarity between it, attributed to Rabbi Eleazar ben Shimon, and the preceding derashah, attributed to his father. Some anonymous “introduction” derashot are generated by markers other than kol: Nedavah pereq 19.2 (Weiss 14d; TK 64) to Lev. 3:9 is generated by the odd phrase ḥelbo ha-ʾaliya [“its suet the broad tail”]; Ḥova pereq 22.3 (Weiss 27d; TK 123) to Lev. 5:21 is based on the repetition of the root m-ʿ-l as an imperfect verb and then an internal accusative, u-maʿalah maʿal (Milgrom: “committing a sacrilege”); Tzav pereq 2.1 (Weiss 30a; TK 132) is based on the redundant language of Leviticus 6:3: “The priest shall wear [ve-lavash] a linen garment and a linen undergarment he shall wear [yilbash]”; Aḥare pereq 10.2 (Weiss 84a; TK 361) [above, §4.55N] is based on the repetition ʾish ʾish in Leviticus 17:8, which introduces, quite literally, two individuals who partake in one offering. This is a named derashah, attributed to Rabbi Shimon. Since the distinction between lerabbot and lehaviʾ has been lost to later generations, I do not put much stock in irregularities of this sort, which could easily be the result of scribal confusion. 42. Another gloss on a scall within a scall, this one attributed to Hillel, appears a little later in the Sifra: “‘The scall has healed’ (Lev. 13:37)—Hillel says: ‘Not that a scall has separated within a scall’” (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 9.15, Weiss 66d; TK 275). There is also a reference to “a scall within a scall” in t. Negaʿim 4.3. 43. Tzvi Novick, personal communication.

258 n o t e s t o pa g e s 13 7 – 139 44. The derashah opens with a list of ribbui arguments, but there is no reason to assume that the entire chain is attributed to Rabbi Akiva, especially since Rabbi Yose’s response pertains only to the last one. 45. Though not challenged by his contemporaries, I would characterize as difficult the following inclusion of Rabbi Akiva’s: §6.45N “A spring or cistern in which water is collected shall remain pure, however, but whoever touches such a carcass shall be impure” (Lev. 11:36): Rabbi Akiva says: “‘But whoever touches such a carcass shall be impure’—to include vessels made of wood [or: bone].” (Shemini parashah 9.7, Weiss 56a; TK 234) 46. Heschel, Heavenly Torah, 41 and 47. 47. See above, 115. 48. “Almost exclusivity” because Rabbi Ishmael does allow for three instances in which received tradition circumvents Scripture. See the discussion below, 196–197. 49. This is consistently the reading of Assemani 66. Later witnesses often have mishum. 50. Rabbi Eleazar transmits a tradition in the name of Rabbi Yose (Tzav pereq 13.6, Weiss 37a; TK 164; parallel at t. Zevaḥim 5.5); Rabbi Shimon ben Yehudah in the name of Rabbi Shimon (Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 9.15, Weiss 66d; TK 475; parallel at m. Negaʿim 10.8); Rabbi Judah in the name of Rabbi Eleazar (Aḥare Mot pereq 4.10, Weiss 81d; TK 347); and Somchos in the name of Rabbi Meir (ʾEmor pereq 8.5, Weiss 99b; TK 440; parallel m. Ḥullin 5.3). Some mishem derashot introduce midrashic arguments, e.g., ­Nedavah pereq 19.4, Weiss 14d; 64; Ḥovah parashah 7.7, Weiss 21d; TK 94; Aḥare Mot pereq 4.10, Weiss 81d; TK 347. 51. Rabbi Zadok (Shemini pereq 5.10, Weiss 51a; TK 212; parallel at m. Terumot 10.9, m. ʿEduyot 7.2, and t. ʿEduyot 3.1); Hezekiah the father of ‘Aqesh (Shemini parashah 7.4, Weiss 53d; TK 224; parallel at m. Kelim 2.3); Rabbi Yose ben Yoezer of Tzereda (Shemini parashah 8.5, Weiss 55b; TK 230; parallel at m. ʿEduyot 8.4). 52. “The words of the scribes” are invoked by Rabbi (Shemini pereq 2.11, Weiss 47c–d; TK 203; parallel at m. Pesaḥim 8.8); Rabbi Yose, opposing the scriptural status of a ruling, as argued by Rabbi Judah (Shemini parashah 8.5, Weiss 55a; TK 229); Rabbi Shimon (Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 2.13, Weiss 76a; TK 317; parallel at m. Niddah 10.4); Rabbi Shimon, assigning each part of a tripartite prohibition to the Torah, halakhah, and the words of the scribes, respectively (ʾEmor parashah 10.11, Weiss, 100c–d; TK 447; parallel at m. ʿOrlah 3.9). “Decrees” (taqqanot) are referenced by Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai (ʾEmor pereq 16.9, Weiss 102d; TK 258–259; parallel at m. Sukkah 3.12); Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai (ʾEmor parashah 10.10, Weiss 100c; TK 447; parallels at m. Sukkah 3.12; m. Rosh Hashanah 4.3; m. Menaḥot 10.5); and Hillel the Elder (Behar parashah 4.8, Weiss 108d; parallel at m. ʿArakhin 9.4). 53. Though Rabbi Judah ben Batira does not cite Scripture, his position appears to be based on the two-week probation periods ordered by the priest to determine whether a



Notes to Pages 139–143

259

garment is impure (Lev. 13:55). Rabbi Eliezer had previously stated that he has heard no tradition on the matter at hand, so it is unclear how he knows that Rabbi Judah ben Batira’s position accords with the words of the sages. 54. Mekhilta Neziqin 14 (Horovitz-Rabin, 298; Lauterbach 3:112–113).

Chapter 7 1. Adiel Schremer, “Stammaitic Historiography,” in Jeffrey L. Rubinstein (ed.), Creation and Composition: The Contribution of the Bavli Redactors (Stammaim) to the Aggada (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 219–236. 2. Judah Goldin, “Toward a Profile of the Tanna, Aqiba ben Josef,” Journal of the American Oriental Society 96 (1976): 38–56. The “profile” in question is theological and halakhic, not biographical. 3. William Scott Green, “What’s in a Name?—The Problematic of Rabbinic ‘Biography,’” in idem (ed.), Approaches to Ancient Judaism I: Theory and Practice (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1978), 77–96. 4. Alyssa Gray, “Is Critical Rabbinic Biography Possible?,” Prooftexts 23 (2003): 376. 5. Alon Goshen-Gottstein, The Sinner and the Amnesiac: The Rabbinic Invention of Elisha ben Abuya and Eleazar ben Arach (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2000). 6. Goshen-Gottstein discusses these sources in ibid., 40 and 43–44, respectively. 7. See ibid., 62–69. 8. See, among others, J. S. Zuri, Rabbi Akiva (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Sifriyah le-Biografiot Talmudiot, 1924); Judah Nadich, Rabbi Akiba and His Contemporaries (Northvale, NJ: J. Aronson, 1999); Meir (Marcus) Lehmann, Akiva: The Story of Rabbi Akiva and His Times, translated by Pearly Zucker (Jerusalem: Feldheim, 2003). It is also worth noting that Eliezer Ben-Yehuda collected the sayings attributed to Rabbi Akiva as part of his series on “the fathers of post-biblical Hebrew” (Eliezer Ben-Yehuda, Rabbi Akiba ben Yosef [Hebrew] [Jerusalem: Ben-Yehuda Press, 1945 (“28 Years Since the Balfour Declaration”)]). 9. Louis Finkelstein, Akiba: Scholar, Saint, and Martyr (New York: Covici and Friede, 1936). 10. Shmuel Safrai, Rabbi Akiva ben Yosef: Hayyav ve-mishnato (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1970). 11. Ibid., 11. 12. Ibid., 13. See also Devora Steinmetz’s recent assertion that all the rabbinic sources agree that Rabbi Akiva “was ignorant until adulthood” in her “Agada Unbound: InterAgadic Characterization of Sages in the Bavli and Implications for Reading Agada,” in Rubinstein (ed.), Creation and Composition, 293. 13. See Yehuda Mirsky’s recent study of the political (in the broad sense of the word) assumptions that underlie Finkelstein’s and Heschel’s depictions of Rabbi Akiva: “Rabbi Akiva: Liberal, Existentialist, Prophet: Between Finkelstein, Heschel, and Martin Luther

260 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 43 – 1 4 6 King and Twentieth-Century American Social-Theological Thought” (Hebrew), Da’at 71 (2011): 93–104. My thanks to Yitz Landes for bringing this article to my attention. 14. The Hebrew “ʿaśah thirteen years” (lit., “did/made thirteen years”) is curious, as one would expect ʿaśah to be followed by an indication of the place he resided (ʿaśah be-) or the person with whom he spent this time (ʿaśah ʿim). I will return to this formula below. 15. This tradition also appears in the minor tractates Derekh Eretz Zutaʾ, chap. 9, and Semaḥot, chap. 4. 16. Rabbi Akiva is ignorant of the ruling (cited immediately following the narrative) that a cadaver “lays claim to its location” and should be buried where found. I thank Prof. Mira Balberg for clarifying this point. 17. Here prooftexts are provided for each assertion. 18. Theodor-Albeck, 10; translation based on H. Freedman’s version in H. Freedman and M. Simon (eds.), Midrash Rabbah: Genesis (London: Soncino, 1983), 1:10–11. My thanks to Rabbi Judah Herskowitz, who helpfully pointed out to me the possible relevance of this passage. 19. Y. Megillah 1.9, 12b, contains a very close parallel, with only Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Yehoshua identified as great sages who emerged from the group in question—a version that a number of scholars prefer, since it resolves the obvious tension between the inclusion of Rabbi Akiva and the Bavli traditions concerning his youth. However, the reading of Genesis Rabbah is well attested in the manuscript tradition (of the sources used in the Theodor-Albeck edition, it is absent only from MS Paris) and is clearly supported by the same cultural lectio dificilior argument presented at the end of the present chapter. 20. Above, 114–117. 21. ARNA 3 (Schechter, 16; Becker, 58–59). The quotation follows MS New York Rab. 1305. Other mss. omit the first stich (“study Torah in your youth”), but this is clearly a late omission. First, because the question, attested throughout, whether “both have been sustained by you” indicates that two types of Torah study—in youth and in old age—were originally mentioned. Second, because Rabbi Akiva’s statement is part of catena of Torah study oppositions (in richness and poverty, hunger and satiety, from one rabbi and from another—with a near-parallel attributed to Rabbi Ishmael), so the opposite of “study in old age” can be securely supplied even when absent from certain mss. Third, its omission is easily explained by the shift in Rabbi Akiva’s biography discussed in this chapter. 22. See the discussion of this passage in Aaron Amit, “The Death of Rabbi Akiva’s Disciples: A Literary History,” JJS 56 (2005): 273–274. 23. Stephen Wald, in his commentary to the Babylonian Talmud’s tractate Pesaḥim, argues that this passage is an interpretation of y. Nazir 7.1, on the basis of the shared saying that ʿam ha-ʾaretz merits death. According to Wald, the Bavli is making explicit an idea implied in the Yerushalmi that whoever does not attend upon the sages—that is, remains an ʿam ha-ʾaretz—deserves death. Stephen G. Wald, B. Pesaḥim III: Critical Edition with Comprehensive Commentary (Hebrew) (New York: JTS, 2000); see also the discussion in Jeffrey Rubenstein, The Culture of the Babylonian Talmud (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005), 134. On the changing status of ʿam ha-ʾaretz, see Wald,



Notes to Pages 146–151

261

B. Pesaḥim III, 211–251; Rubenstein, Culture of the Babylonian Talmud, 123–142; Stuart S. Miller, Sages and Commoners in Late Antique ‘Erez Israel’ (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), esp. 301–338. 24. On the difference between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmuds, regarding ancestral merit, see Devora Steinmetz, “Must the Patriarch Know ‘Uqtzin? The Nasi as Scholar in Babylonian Aggada,” AJS Review 23 (1998): 163–189; Rubenstein, Culture of the Babylonian Talmud, 80–101. 25. On the priority of the Ketubot version, see Shamma Friedman, “A Good Story Deserves Retelling: The Unfolding of the Akiva Legend,” JSIJ 2 (Hebrew) (2004): 65–66; Tal Ilan, Mine and Yours Are Hers: Retrieving Women’s History from Rabbinic Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 41. 26. For recent discussions, see Friedman, “A Good Story Deserves Retelling”; Avigdor Shinan, “The Three Wives of Rabbi Akiva” (Hebrew), Masekhet 2 (2004): 11–25 (and the extensive bibliography cited in n. 1); Tal Ilan’s (problematic) rebuttal of Shinan in “The Wife of Tinius Rufus and Rabbi Akiva” (Hebrew), Masekhet 3 (2005): 103–112; Ilan, Mine and Yours Are Hers, passim; Daniel Boyarin, Carnal Israel: Reading Sex in Talmudic Culture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), 136–156. 27. As Shamma Friedman writes: “The Akiva complex in ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan . . . does not exhibit any indication of borrowing major themes from the Bavli account in Ketubot or Nedarim,” “A Good Story Deserves Retelling,” 71. See also Ilan, Mine and Yours Are Hers, 44. 28. B. ʿAvodah Zarah 20a. 29. Genesis Rabbah 1.14 (Theodor-Albeck, 12). For an apologetic attempt at harmonizing these traditions, see B. Z. Fischler, “Rabbi Akiva and His Wives,” Ha’aretz, June 5, 2003. 30. Friedman, “A Good Story Deserves Retelling,” 85. . 31. Ibid., 86. 32. The Hebrew lamad torah ben ʾarbaʿim shanah literally means that Rabbi Akiva “studied Torah forty years old.” I will return to this point below. 33. Finkelstein’s Sifre Deuteronomy edition is based on MS Vatican 32, but that manuscript ends at p. 339 of the critical edition. Most of the remainder is based on MS Berlin, but that manuscript, too, ends prematurely, at p. 423; the remaining pages are based on MS London but, as we will see, are not identical with it. See the discussion of the manuscript history in M. Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” 2:95–100, esp. 97 n. 501; idem, Manuscripts of the Halakhic Midrashim, 97–107. The translation is from Reuven Hammer, Sifre: A Tannaitic Commentary on the Book of Deuteronomy (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1986), 382. 34. As noted, the manuscript evidence is less robust for this passage than for the rest of the Sifre Deuteronomy, since MS Vatican 32 and MS Berlin break off before the end of Sifre Deuteronomy. 35. Venice, 1546, photocopied edition by Makor Publishing (Jerusalem, 1971), includes the Sifre Numbers and the Sifre Deuteronomy. Our derashah appears in column 251. 36. The manuscript is from the Yehudah Nahum collection (MS Holon 242 ‫)ה‬, reproduced in Kahana, The Genizah Fragments of the Halakhic Midrashim, 377.

262 n o t e s t o pa g e s 15 1 – 155 37. There is a lacuna here, and the bracketed words are the editor’s reconstruction. 38. The closest parallel that I could find is 1 Corinthians, when Paul speaks of “those who buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it” (1 Cor. 7:30–31). The utility of this parallel is dubious, however, and further weakened by the interpretive difficulties that attend the phrase within the Pauline corpus, on which see Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000), 580–586. 39. The ARNA passage refers only to Rabbi Akiva’s biography, not those of Moses, Hillel, and Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai. Some ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan manuscripts do not refer to Rabbi Akiva’s biography (e.g., the Genizah text and MS Vatican 44, reproduced in Becker, Avot de Rabbi Natan, 146), while others differ substantively from Sifre Deuteronomy §357. E.g., MS New York 10484, MS New York Rab 50, and MS New York Rab 1305 state that Rabbi Akiva began to study Torah at the age of forty, studied thirteen years, and then taught Torah to the public; MS New York Rab 25 states that he studies sixteen years, but this is probably a scribal error rather than an independent tradition. 40. Above, 115. 41. Genesis Rabbah §100 (Theodor-Albeck, 1295). 42. My thanks to the library of the Jewish Theological Seminary for use of their microfiche copy of MS London. 43. A similar reading is attested in Yalqut Shimoni: “Rabbi Akiva attended upon the sages forty years and taught (or studied) Torah forty years and led Israel forty years” (Yalqut Shimoni §965). On Yalqut Shimoni’s tendency to follow MS London, see Finkelstein, “Prolegomena to an Edition of the Sifre Deuteronomy,” PAAJR 3 (1931–1932): 3–42, esp. 7–12. 44. Note that the interpretation I am proposing maintains the internal logic of lectio dificilior but admits a broader range of forces into consideration. Textual smoothness is not the sole factor—smoother readings are likely later and thus suspect—since now broader cultural coherence (integrity in Dworkin’s sense [Ronald Dworkin, Law’s Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986), 225–275]) is recognized as a factor. Rather than reject the smoother textual reading as the result of a later harmonization of an earlier crux, here we reject the smoother “biographical” reading as the result of a later harmonization with the now-authoritative traditions preserved in ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan and the Bavli; in diachronic terms, as the biographic traditions concerning Rabbi Akiva’s ʿam ha-ʾaretz youth emerged and became authoritative, the text of Sifre Deuteronomy §357 was altered in an attempt to accommodate their accounts. For another example of the impact of broader cultural analysis on determining the lectio dificilior, see Azzan Yadin, “Qol as Hypostasis in the Hebrew Bible,” JBL 122 (2003): 621. 45. A similar dynamic may be at play in ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan MS Vatican 303: “At forty years old [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he went to school, at forty years old [ben ʾarbaʿim shanah] he learned everything, and forty years he taught Israel.” This reading is “undoubtedly a scribal error,” as Elbaum notes (“Linguistic and Conceptual Patterns,” 72 n. 6), but it is possible that the error lies not, as we might otherwise assume, in the insertion



Notes to Pages 155–161

263

of the second ben, but in the insertion of the first. It is this emendation that transforms Rabbi Akiva’s schooling from something that occurred over the course of his first forty years (*“Rabbi Akiva went to school for forty years”), to an event that took place when he was forty years old. 46. See Kahana, Manuscripts of the Halakhic Midrashim, 65. 47. Elitzur Bar-Asher (personal communication) notes that the plene orthography of rabbinic Hebrew would usually clarify whether the text speaks of study or instruction. However, a reading such as that of the editio princeps (lmd and led Israel) is open to readings that would put it at odds with the Talmud, i.e., having the lmd activity (be it study or instruction) take place in the first forty-year period. The desire to exclude such a reading might be the motivation for the (orthographically unwarranted) disambiguation of the Genizah text. 48. The graphic similarity increases if we assume that ʿaśah was written with a samekh rather than a sin, as is regular with rabbinic orthography—making the graphic difference between ‫ עסה‬and ‫ עסק‬almost imperceptible. See M. H. Segal, A Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1927), §50. 49. The tendency to emend the tannaitic text to suit the account of the Babylonian Talmud culminates in Rabbi Eliyahu ben Shlomo (known by his acronym, the GRA) version of Sifre Deuteronomy §357: “Rabbi Akiva was a shepherd for forty years and studied for forty years and led Israel for forty years.”. 50. See Goshen-Gottstein, The Sinner and the Amnesiac, passim. Note also Aaron Amit’s analysis of the traditions surrounding the death of Rabbi Akiva’s disciples (Amit, “The Death of Rabbi Akiva’s Disciples”). Amit traces this tradition, which is attested in both Babylonian and Palestinian sources, to an interpretive dispute recorded in ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan. He concludes: “There is no evidence for the death of Rabbi Akiva’s disciples in the tannaitic corpus” (281) and that this tradition emerged from an accretion of later interpretations. Needless to say, the existence of one invented tradition does not prove that others are similarly invented. It does, however, give one to understand that the interpretation offered here is not unique and may not be atypical. 51. See Isaiah Gafni, “Eretz Israel in the Period of the Mishnah and the Talmud: Achievements and Question Marks Following a Generation of Scholarship” (Hebrew), Cathedra 100 (2001): 199–226; Schremer, “Stammaitic Historiography,” passim.

Chapter 8 1. Sifra Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.7, Weiss 79a; TK 331. 2. Exodus Rabbah 15.22. 3. David E. Aune, Prophecy in Early Christianity and the Ancient Mediterranean World (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002), 339. Though Aune adds a third criterion—that the exegesis be concerned with eschatological matters—I accept Sze-Kar Wan’s view that “to limit charismatic exegesis to eschatological writers is to foreclose the category prematurely”; Wan, “Charismatic Exegesis: Philo and Paul Compared,” Studia Philonica Annual 6 (1994): 55.

264 n o t e s t o pa g e s 162 – 16 4 4. For a helpful (but not unproblematic; see below) survey of Second Temple and Jewish sources, see Markus Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery in Ancient Judaism and Pauline Christianity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990). 5. It would be a mistake to generalize from this episode to biblical dreams as such. God communicates clearly and unambiguously with Abimelech and Pharaoh through dreams in the two versions of Abraham and Sarah’s deceitful sojourn in Gerar (Genesis 12) and Egypt (Genesis 20). 6. The failure to distinguish between the meaning of the biblical verse and its use among later interpreters significantly weakens Marguerite Harl’s argument that “les Pères empruntent à la Bible elle-même l’aveu de son obscurité” (italics in the original). See Harl, “Origène et les interprétations patristiques grecques de l’‘obscurité’ biblique,” Vigilae Christianae 36 (1982): 338. 7. See the synchronic schema provided by Susan Niditch, The Symbolic Vision in Biblical Tradition (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980). 8. For a possible precedent, see Tzvi Novick, “Duping the Prophet,” JSOT 38 (2008): 115–28. 9. See Hansgünter Reichelt, Angelus Interpres: Texte in der Johannes-Apokalypse (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1994), esp. the sources discussed in 137–176, including Ezek. 1:26b–28 and 8:2; Dan. 7:9 and 10:5f.; Apocalypse of Abraham 11:2f.; Apocalypse of Zephaniah II, 9:2–4; Joseph and Asenath 14:9. 10. Michael Segal has recently argued that Daniel’s vision is intended to supplement rather than interpret Jeremiah’s prophecy, with Daniel’s seventy weeks marking “a subsequent, successive period of time, immediately following the completion of the seventy years of Exile”; Segal, “The Chronological Conception of the Persian Period in Daniel 9,” JAJ 2 (2011): 285. Still, Segal does not deny that Daniel’s vision “fulfills,” in some sense, the earlier prophecy. 11. John J. Collins, “Jewish Apocalyptic Against Its Hellenistic Near Eastern Environment,” BASOR 220 (1975): 32. 12. Michael E. Stone, Fourth Ezra: A Commentary on the Book of Fourth Ezra (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990), 358. 13. Aune, Prophecy, 339. 14. See Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 42–56. For a recent study of Qumran esotericism, see Samuel I. Thomas, The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009). Thomas’s study focuses on the term raz but contains a helpful discussion of the broader questions of esotericism and a rich bibliography. 15. Note how this passage complicates the standard account of Qumran’s historiography by stating that “all Israel had gone astray” with regard to the hidden matters, indicating, as Menahem Kister has argued, that the Qumran community understands itself to be recovering a state of knowledge hidden from the entire people of Israel (their predecessors included) following misdeeds in the First Temple period. See Menahem Kister, “Concerning the History of the Essenes” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 56 (1987): 1–18, esp. 7–9.



Notes to Pages 165–167

265

16. Bilhah Nitzan, “The Pesharim Scrolls from Qumran” (Hebrew), in Menahem Kister (ed.), The Qumran Scrolls and Their World (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2009), 1:169. See also Nitzan, “Pesher and Midrash in the Qumran Scrolls” (Hebrew), Meghillot 7 (2009): 99–128. 17. This idea is found throughout the Dead Sea Scrolls: “To say that the [Qumran] community saw the text of prophetic books as pregnant with hidden meanings is a considerable understatement,” John Barton, Oracles of God: Perception of Ancient Prophecy in Israel After the Exile (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 182. 18. Yehoshua Amir, “Authority and Interpretation of Scripture in the Writings of Philo,” in M. J. Mulder and Harry Sysling (eds.), Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading, and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1988), 421–453, esp. 429–432. 19. See the discussion of this passage in Gerald L. Bruns, “The Problem of Figuration in Antiquity,” in Gary Shapiro and Alan Sica (eds.), Hermeneutics: Questions and Prospects (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1984), 147–164. 20. Philo, On the Special Laws 1.200, trans. F. H. Colson, in The Loeb Classical Library: Philo (10 vols.; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991), 7:214–215. 21. Philo, On the Special Laws 3.6, trans. Colson, Philo, 7:476–479. 22. Philo, On the Cherubim 27, trans. Colson, Philo, 2:24–25. 23. Philo, On Dreams 2.252 trans. Colson, Philo, 5:554–557. 24. Philo, The Migration of Abraham 35, trans. Colson, Philo, 4:150–151. 25. See David Hay, “Philo’s View of Himself as Exegete: Inspired but Not Authoritative,” Studia Philonica Annual 3 (1991): 40–52; John R. Levison, “Inspiration and the Divine Spirit in the Writings of Philo Judaeus,” JSJ 26 (1995): 271–323; Wan, “Charismatic Exegesis,” 54–82. 26. See the discussion of Paul and the bibliographic material in Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 129–220. On the patristic sources, see Guy G. Stroumsa, Hidden Wisdom: Esoteric Traditions and the Roots of Christian Mysticism (Leiden: Brill, 2005). 27. Isa. 25:8, ‫( בלע המות לנצח‬NRSV: “he will swallow up death for ever”), with the third Hebrew word understood as ‫ לְ נַ ֵ ּצ ַח‬rather than MT ‫לָ נֶ ַצח‬. 28. Hosea 13:14 (NRSV: “O death, where are your plagues? O Sheol, where is your destruction?”). Paul’s rendering of ‫( קטב‬NRSV: “destruction”) as “sting” follows the LXX. 29. Isa. 59:20–21. 30. A stich from Isa. 27:9. 31. See Aune, Prophecy, 342–345. 32. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, §68, translated by Thomas B. Falls, revised by Thomas P. Halton, and edited by Michael Slusser (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2003), 104. 33. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, §77 (Slusser, 120). 34. Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho, §92 (Slusser, 142). 35. Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 6.124–125 in Ante-Nicene Fathers 2.511. 36. Origen, “Commentary on Psalms 1–25, Fragment from Preface,” translated by Joseph W. Trigg, in idem, Origen (London: Routledge, 1998), 69–70.

266 n o t e s t o pa g e s 16 8 – 1 7 2 37. Karen Jo Torjesen, “The Alexandrian Tradition of the Inspired Interpreter,” in L. Perrone (ed.), Origeniana Octava: Origen and the Alexandrian Tradition (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003), 1:287–299. 38. Gregory, Oration and Panegyric on Origen, 15, cited in Torjesen, “The Alexandrian Tradition,” 290. 39. Origen, Commentary to Matthew 27, cited in Torjesen, “The Alexandrian Tradition,” 293 n. 18. 40. Mekhilta Neziqin 16, Horovitz-Rabin, 302–303; Lauterbach 3:121. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 126–127. 41. Mekhilta Neziqin 16, Horovitz-Rabin, 303; Lauterbach 3:122–23. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 128. 42. See Aharon Shemesh and Cana Werman, “The Hidden Things and Their Revelation” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 66 (1997): 471–482; English trans., “Hidden Things and Their Revelation,” Revue de Qumran 18 (2003): 245–255. 43. Kahana’s criticism of this position is not convincing. Kahana (Sifre Numbers 2.479 n. 137) argues that “you performed ” need not refer to commandments, since the Sifre contrasts it with “I will make known.” But this contrast is motivated by the asymmetry between already given commandments, which can currently be performed, and those reserved for a future time, which God still needs to make known. 44. Shemesh and Werman’s emphasis on the continuity between the rabbinic and Qumran interpretations is, then, misguided; the latter occur as part of a clearly articulated mystery theology, while the former do not. There are esoteric interpretations of this verse but only in much later rabbinic texts. Note, e.g., the difference between the restrained position of Sifre Numbers and the Mekhilta, on the one hand, and the frankly eschatological medieval midrash, on the other: “‘The secret things belong to the Lord our God’: This refers to the times of the end of the exile, which are hidden and sealed. As it is said regarding Daniel: ‘But you, Daniel, keep the words secret and the book sealed until the time of the end’ (Dan. 12:4),” Lekaḥ Tov, Buber ed. (Lvov, 1878), 51a. 45. Christopher Rowland, The Open Heaven: A Study of Apocalyptic in Judaism and Early Christianity (New York: Crossroad, 1982), 271–272. 46. Rachel Elior, Temple and Chariot, Priests and Angels, Sanctuary and Heavenly Sanctuary in Early Jewish Mysticism (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1993), 170. 47. Some scholars have tried (unconvincingly, to my mind) to align the first prohibition with the esoteric nature of the those that follow, e.g., Elior’s suggestion that the forbidden sexual relations in question are linked to the cherubs in the Tabernacle Temple who were in a state of sexual union (Elior, Temple and Chariot, 170). 48. Yair Furstenberg, “The Roots and Nature of the Rabbinic Prohibition on Studying maʿaśeh bereshit,” paper presented at the colloquium on religion in late antiquity, Princeton University, May 2–4, 2010. My thanks to Dr. Furstenberg for sharing the written version of his presentation with me. 49. Moshe Halbertal, Concealment and Revelation: Esotericism in Jewish Thought and Its Philosophical Implications, translated by Jackie Feldman (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007), 8.



Notes to Pages 172–174

267

50. Lieberman, “Rabbinic Interpretation of Scripture,” in idem, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine, 47–82, esp. 68–78. 51. Following the reading of MS Erfurt. 52. This tanna appears as “Rabbi Eliezer” in MS Vatican 32, as well as in an inscription found in Kefar Devorah in the Galilee: ‫זה בית מדרשו שהלרבי [=של רבי] אליעזר הקפר‬. The inscription is on display in the Golan Archaeological Museum in Katzrin. I have retained the traditional “Eleazar” as the question has not been resolved. 53. Both (i) and (iii) refer to a dream in the Book of Genesis, which elsewhere understands dreams to be pregnant with meaning (Joseph, Pharaoh), so that there is little here to suggest that the broad conclusion of (ii) is drawn specifically from the Sifre Numbers discussion. The saying “there is no dream without an interpretation” is, moreover, preserved in Genesis Rabbah (68:12; Theodor-Albeck 2:785), where it follows a statement attributed to the amora Rav Abahu that “dreams are altogether moot” (Genesis Rabbah 68:12, Theodor-Albeck 2.784). 54. See the discussion in Julia Zellentin, “Die historische Entwicklung des rabbinischen Traumglaubens” (M.A. thesis, University of Potsdam, 2005), 32. My thanks to Ms. Zellentin for sharing her work with me. 55. See also the statement that dream-induction techniques are considered “Ways of the Amorite,” t. Shabbat 6.7 [5.7]; Lieberman, Moʿed, 23. 56. Yuval Harari, “The Sages and the Occult,” in The Literature of the Sages, 2:553. Among the sources that Harari cites are the assertion that “a dream is one-sixtieth of prophecy” (b. Berakhot 57b) and the fact that the Babylonian amora Rava has a halakhic matter revealed to him in a dream (b. Menaḥot 67a). 57. See the literature cited in Harari, “The Sages and the Occult,” 553 n. 148. More recent studies include Holger M. Zellentin, Rabbinic Parodies of Jewish and Christian Literature (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 95–136; Richard Kalmin, “Talmudic Attitudes Toward Dream Interpreters,” in Carol Bakhos and M. Rahim Shayegan (eds.), The Talmud in Its Iranian Context (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 83–99; Haim Weiss, All Dreams Follow the Mouth: A Literary and Cultural Reading in the Talmudic Dream Tractate (Hebrew) (Beer Sheva: Ben-Gurion University Press, 2011), which does not discuss tannaitic sources. My thanks to Prof. Harari for his helpful comments. 58. Zellentin, “Die historische Entwicklung des rabbinischen Traumglaubens.” 59. Alexander Kristianpoller, Traum und Traumdeutung im Talmud (Vienna: Harz, 1923), vii. In an earlier study, Kalmin compared tannaim and amoraim with regard to dream interpretation but did so on the basis of the attribution of dicta preserved in the so-called Dream Tractate in b. Berakhot. See Richard Kalmin, Sages, Stories, Authors, and Editors in Rabbinic Babylonia (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994), 61–80. 60. See Peter Kuhn, Offenbarungsstimmen im Antiken Judentum: Untersuchungen zur Bat Qol und verwandten Phänomenen (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1989), and see the comprehensive list of bat qol passages at 369–376. For an up-to-date assessment of the matter, see José Costa, “Littérature apocalyptic et judaïsme rabbinique: Le problème de la bat qol,” Revue des études juives 169 (2010): 57–96. 61. T. Soṭah 13:3, Lieberman, Nashim 230.

268 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 74 – 1 75 62. T. Soṭah 13:4, Lieberman, Nashim 230. 63. I exclude m. ʾAvot 6.2 (“Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said: ‘Every day a bat qol goes forth from Mount Horeb proclaiming, “Woe to mankind for their contempt of the Torah”’”), as chapter 6 is a late addition to the tractate, on which see below. 64. Lieberman, Hellenism, 194. The passages are: m. Yebamot 16.6 (parallel at t. ­Yebamot 14.7); t. Nazir 1.1; and t. Shevuʿot 3.8. 65. The sources are: Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael Yitro 2, Horovitz-Rabin, 200; Lauterbach 2:187; and Sifre Deuteronomy §357, Finkelstein 427–428; Hammer, 381. I discount the occurrences in Midrash Tannaim and ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan, on which see Costa, “Littérature apocalyptic et judaïsme rabbinique,” 69–70. 66. Lieberman, Hellenism, 194–199. 67. See Costa, “Littérature apocalyptic et judaïsme rabbinique,” 70–72. 68. Safrai first discussed this group in “Hassidic Teaching in Mishnaic Literature,” JJS 16 (1956): 15–33, and returned to the Ḥasidim almost thirty years later in “Ḥasidim and Men of Deeds” (Hebrew), Zion 50 (1985): 133–154. See the sources cited in Novick, What Is Good and What God Demands, 141–142 n. 20. 69. See Shlomo Naeh, “‘Creates the Fruit of Lips’: A Phenomenological Study of Prayer According to Mishnah Berakhot 4:3, 5:5” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 63 (1994): 185–218. 70. See Geza Vermes, “Ḥanina ben Dosa,” JJS 23 (1972): 28–50. 71. There is one saying attributed to Hanina ben Dosa in m. ʾAvot 3.9 [3.10], but it is ethical, not legal: “Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa said: anyone whose fear of sin precedes his wisdom, his wisdom is enduring, but anyone whose wisdom precedes his fear of sin, his wisdom is not enduring. He used to say: anyone whose deeds exceed his wisdom, his wisdom is enduring, but anyone whose wisdom exceeds his deeds, his wisdom is not enduring.” 72. Honi’s role as intercessor in matters of rainfall establishes him as an alternative to the Temple, which is characterized at its establishment as follows: “When heaven is shut up and there is no rain because they have sinned against you, and then they pray toward this place . . . then hear in heaven . . . and grant rain on your land” (1 Kings 8:35– 36). On this aspect of the story, see Marc Hirshman, “Shifting Foci of Holiness: Honi and His Grandchildren” (Hebrew), Tura 1 (1989): 109–118. It may be the desire to resolve this tension that drives b. Taʿanit 23a to describe Honi placing his hands on a sacrificial bull, thereby aligning Honi with priestly Temple practices. For a sustained attempt to integrate the Ḥasidim into the religious world of the sages, see Menachem Ben-Shalom, Ḥasidut and Ḥasidim in the Second Temple Period and in the Mishnah Period (Hebrew) (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2008). I am skeptical of the possibility of drawing a continuous historical line from the Ḥasidim of the Hasmonean revolt through what BenShalom calls “the Usha period” and “the period of Rabbi Judah the Patriarch.” 73. Mireille Hadas-Lebel, Jérusalem contre Rome (Paris: Editions du Cerf, 1990), 453. 74. Lawrence Schiffman, “Messianism and Apocalypticism in Rabbinic Texts,” in Steven T. Katz (ed.), The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 4: The Late Roman-Rabbinic Period (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 1063.



Notes to Pages 175–178

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75. Lidija Novakovic, “Miracles in Second Temple and Early Rabbinic Judaism,” in Graham H. Twelftree (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Miracles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 105–106. 76. Menahem Kister, “The Falling Manna: Allegorization and Concretization in Rabbinic Interpretation in Light of the Writings of Philo and Others,” lecture delivered June 2, 2011, at the conference “Midreshei Aggadah in Eretz Israel and Their Proliferation,” Yad Ben-Zvi, Jerusalem. On the relationship between allegory and dream interpretation, see Patricia Cox Miller, Dreams in Late Antiquity (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 92–95. 77. E. E. Urbach, “The Traditions About Merkavah Mysticism in the Tannaitic Period” (Hebrew), in idem et al. (eds.), Studies in Mysticism and Religion Presented to Gershom G. Scholem (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1967), 1–28. Though not originally written with this intent, the following section can be read as support for the main thesis of Raʿanan Boustan’s insightful account of Scholem’s role in shaping contemporary scholarship on early Jewish mysticism; Boustan, “Rabbinization and the Making of Early Jewish Mysticism,” JQR 101 (2011): 482–501. 78. For a synopsis of the versions, see Urbach, “The Traditions,” 4. 79. Translation follows Goshen-Gottstein, The Sinner and the Amnesiac, 244. 80. Urbach, “The Traditions,” 11. Urbach offers a synopsis of the various traditions on p. 4 of the article; Rowland does the same, The Open Heaven, 284–288. 81. Gershom Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism (New York: Schocken, 1946), 53. 82. Urbach, “The Traditions,” 13. 83. Peter Schäfer, “New Testament and Hekhalot Literature: The Journey into Heaven in Paul and in Merkavah Mysticism,” JJS 35 (1984): 19–35. 84. Ibid., 28. 85. William Scott Green, “Palestinian Holy Men, Charismatic Leadership and Rabbinic Tradition,” ANRW 2, 19.2 (1979): 619–647. 86. The image of the servant is meant to invoke the Ḥasid’s intimacy with God (the servant bathes and feeds and dresses the master). 87. Schiffman, “Messianism and Apocalypticism,” 1053. 88. On m. ʾAvot 6.6, see Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 113, and Rowland, The Open Heaven, 272. On m. ʾAvot 6.1, see Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 114. 89. See M. B. Lerner, “The Tractate Avot,” in Safrai, The Literature of the Sages, 1:275. 90. Albeck characterizes all of mishnah 15 as an addition, but even within this addition “from Rabbi Pinhas ben Yair says . . . is absent in a number of manuscript traditions” (Albeck, Mishnah Nashim, 394). See also Epstein, Introduction to the Text of the Mishnah, 2:976–977. 91. Ira Chernus’s monograph on rabbinic mysticism accepts attribution as a sufficient (and apparently sole) criterion for dating rabbinic dicta, so his chapter “Revelation and Merkabah Mysticism in Tannaitic Midrash” opens with an extended analysis of passages from Pesiqta Rabbati, Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer, and Song of Songs Rabbah, an approach

270 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 7 8 – 1 82 typical of the work as a whole. See Ira Chernus, Mysticism in Rabbinic Judaism (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1982). 92. Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 104. 93. E.g., Bockmuehl states: “Various early sages had a prophetic gift; several Rabbis are, moreover, given special insights by the Holy Spirit in matters of human predicament” (Revelation and Mystery, 108) and proceeds to cite amoraic (or later) sources that refer to tannaim. Contemporary scholars’ insistence on reading a mystery theology into tannaitic sources is likely due to the enduring authority of Gershom Scholem, whose later writings espoused this view. À propos anachronism in Revelation and Mystery, why does Bockmuehl place the rabbis before Paul? The structure of the book assumes that the rabbis are, ineluctably, background to Paul, a view with rich theological precedent but little historical justification. 94. See my discussion in Azzan Yadin, “Rabbi Aqiva: Midrash and the Site of Revelation,” in Moulie Vidas and Philippa Townsend (eds.), Revelation, Literature, and Community in Late Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 207. 95. William H. Brownlee, The Midrash Pesher of Habakkuk (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979), 110. 96. Michael Fishbane, “Use, Authority, and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran,” in Mulder and Sysling (eds.), Mikra, 361–362. Devorah Dimant’s argument against Fishbane is not convincing; see Dimant, “Time-Dependent Exegesis in the Qumranic Pesharim” (Hebrew), Meghillot 7 (2009): 22 n. 16. 97. Though admittedly speculative, it is worth noting the possibility that the marginality of charismatic interpretation in tannaitic sources relative to the Jewish sources that preceded and succeeded them is related to the decline and subsequent ascent of pagan oracular consultations: “In the early second century, this ‘decline’ of the oracles began to be reversed. By c. 200, Christians still wrote polemically as if the gods had fallen silent, but they were ignoring the contrary facts at the sites to which they referred”; Robin Lane Fox, Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1986), 200–201.

Excursus 1. Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 115. 2. I am not referring to the fact that extra-scriptural traditions were not—or not always—widely known, as when a disputed dictum of Rabbi Eliezer is brought to Rabbi Akiva for adjudication, but he replies: “Be silent! I will not tell you what Rabbi Eliezer says regarding this matter” (m. Sheviʿit 8.9). 3. The word mishnah may refer to either Oral Law generally or to a discrete legal codex. See Epstein, Prolegomenon to the Text of the Mishnah, 804. 4. Pesiqta Rabbati §5, and see parallels at Tanhuma Vayeraʾ §5, Tanhuma B Vayeraʾ §6, and Tanhuma Ki Tiśaʾ §34. My translation is based on the version produced by Marc Bregman, “Mishnah as Mystery” (Hebrew), in Yaakov Sussman and David Rosenthal (eds.), Meḥqere Talmud III: Talmud Studies Dedicated to the Memory of Professor Ephraim



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E. Urbach (2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes, 2005), 1:101–109. The bracketed phrase is from Tanhuma Ki Tiśaʾ. 5. See the literature cited in Bregman, “Mishnah as Mystery,” and Bockmuehl, Revelation and Mystery, 118 n. 91. 6. The version in Tanhuma Vayeraʾ 5 ends with a prooftext: “The Lord’s secret is for those who fear him” (Ps. 25: 14). 7. A close parallel to this view—that esoteric doctrine is not secrets of Torah but a tradition handed down orally—is found among several of the church fathers and pagan authors alike, as Stroumsa richly documents in Hidden Wisdom.

Chapter 9 1. Steven D. Fraade, “Interpretive Authority in the Studying Community at Qumran,” JJS 44 (1993): 46–69. 2. The ways in which the Qumran community engaged Scripture are still being investigated. Fraade has argued that “for all the midrash and halakhah found within the scrolls, textually they evidence very little midrash halakhah: the explicit citation and interpretation of Scripture as a source or justification for law”; Steven Fraade, “Looking for Legal Midrash at Qumran,” in Michael E. Stone and Esther G. Chazon (eds.), Biblical Perspectives: Early Use and Interpretation of the Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 60, emphasis in the original. But Vered Noam has argued that the scrolls employ at least one legal-midrashic term, the comparative kaf, which appears in 4QMMT, 4Q274 (4QTohorot A), and the Temple Scroll; Vered Noam, “Early Signs of Halakhic Midrash at Qumran” (Hebrew), Diné Israel: Studies in Halakhah and Jewish Law 26–27 (2009–2010): 3–26. The sources are: 4QMMT 2:62–63 and 4QMMT 2 4Q396 1–2 iv; 4Q274 1i:7–9; 11QT 50:10–13. 3. Adiel Schremer, “‘[T]he[y] Did Not Read in the Sealed Book’: Qumran Halakhic Revolution and the Emergence of Torah Study in Second Temple Judaism,” in David Goodblatt, Avital Pinnick, and Daniel R. Schwartz (eds.), Historical Perspectives: From the Hasmoneans to Bar Kokhba in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 105–126. 4. The Temple Scroll, ed. Yigael Yadin (3 vols.; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1983), 1:344. The Sifre is interpreting mishneh torah as if from the root sh-n­-h, “to recite,” “to repeat.” Hammer’s translation, “Because in the future it will be changed” (193), is incorrect. 5. Yadin, The Temple Scroll, 2:251. 6. Menahem Kister, “Marginalia Qumranica” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 57 (1988): 315–316. 7. Vered Noam, Megillat Taʿanit: Versions, Interpretation, History (Hebrew) (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi, 2003), 77–78. I have cited the reading of MS Oxford. 8. See the discussion of these sources and the remaining couplets in Menahem Kister, “Two Formulae in the Book of Jubilees” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 70 (2001): 289–300. 9. Pesher Nahum (4Q169), 2.7. 10. CD 1.18–19.

272 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 85 – 1 8 6 11. Joseph M. Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 32 n. 78. See also Albert I. Baumgarten, “The Name of the Pharisees,” JBL 102 (1983): 420–422; David Flusser, “Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes in Pesher Nahum,” in idem, Judaism of the Second Temple: Qumran and Apocalypticism, translated by Azzan Yadin (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007), 214–257, esp. 218–221. 12. For a discussion of the Jewish theological context of this dispute, see Yair Furstenberg, “Defilement Penetrating the Body: A New Understanding of Contamination in Mark 7.15,” New Testament Studies 54 (2008): 176–200. 13. For a theologically far-reaching interpretation of the category of tradition in Paul, see Oscar Cullmann, “Paradosis et Kyrios: Le problème de la tradition dans le paulinisme,” Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuses 30 (1950): 12–30 (“Aussi on peut se demander si Jésus-Christ le ‘Seigneur’ ne prend pas, en tant qu’ il représente l’accomplissement de las Loi, la place de toute la paradosis juive,” 20; italics in original). Cullmann’s view has not gained widespread support among scholars; see Wan, “Charismatic Exegesis,” 56 n. 12. 14. Paul famously rejects his early zeal for “the traditions of my ancestors” (Gal. 1:14) but only because he now sees that they are false (better: superseded), not because the category of tradition has been discredited in his eyes. 15. Paul here casts krateō—the same verb appears in Mark’s polemic against the Pharisee tendency to “hold fast” to the traditions of the elders—as a positive, normative action. See Earl J. Richard, First and Second Thessalonians (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1995), 358. 16. It does not matter for the present discussion whether 2 Thessalonians was composed by Paul or by one of his associates, since it bears witness to the currency of tradition as a theological category in Pauline circles irrespective. 17. For a survey of the shifts in scholarly consensus, see Jacob Z. Lauterbach, “Midrash and Mishnah: A Study in the Early History of the Halakhah,” originally published in JQR 5 (1915): 505–527 and 6 (1916): 163–258; reprinted in Jacob Z. Lauterbach, Rabbinic Essays (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College, 1951), 163–258; Epstein, Prolegomena, 508–515; Yekutiel Neubauer, “Halakhah and Midrash Halakhah” (Hebrew), in his Ha-Rambam ʿal Divrei Soferim (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1957); Benjamin DeVries, “Midrash as a Factor in the Development of Jewish Law in Tannaitic Times” (Hebrew), in his Studies in the Development of the Talmudic Halakhah: Selected Chapters (Tel Aviv: Zioni, 1962), 9–36; E. E. Urbach, “The Derashah as the Basis for Halakhah and the Problem of the Soferim” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 27 (1958): 166–182; Halivni, Midrash, Mishnah, and Gemara, 18–21; D. R. Schwartz, “Hillel and Scripture: From Authority to Exegesis,” in James H. Charlesworth and Loren L. Johns (eds.), Hillel and Jesus: Comparative Studies of Two Major Religious Figures (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 335–362. 18. Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah, 40–43. 19. Reichman examines a number of Mishnah-Sifra parallels and concludes that the Sifra’s are earlier and often presupposed by the Mishnah. E.g., the first parallel that Reichman discusses is between the Mishnah and a Sifra exclusion followed by an inclusion:



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“A man’s burnt offering” (Lev. 7:8)—a burnt offering that has been offered up for a man. . . . It is all one whether it was the burnt offering brought by a man or the burnt offering brought by a woman, the hide thereof belongs to the priests. (m. Zevaḥim 12.2–3) §9.19N “[The priest who sacrifices] a man’s burnt offering [ʿolat ʾish] [shall keep the hide of the burnt offering that he sacrificed]” (Lev. 7:8): From this I know only regarding the burnt offering of a man, whence regarding the burnt offering of women, aliens, and slaves? Scripture teaches, saying “the hide of the burnt offering.” (Tzav pereq 9.1, Weiss 33d; TK 150) Reichman plausibly argues that the latter is presupposed by the former, but the key issue for our purposes is his characterization of the Sifra argument: “The phrase ‫ עולת איש‬may be interpreted as though delimiting the scope of the commandment of the burnt offering to those that the men of Israel offer. The indication [Hinweis] concerning the implicit generalization in ‫ עור העולה‬refutes this delimitation” (Mishnah und Sifra, 36). Though a perfectly adequate summary of the stages of the Sifra’s argument, Reichman does not ascertain how “the hide of the burnt offering” contravenes the implicit delimitation of “a man’s burnt offering” and includes women, aliens, and slaves in the biblical discussion of the burnt offering. In fairness, the hermeneutic question is not relevant to his claim that the Sifra enjoys literary and redactional priority over certain Mishnah parallels. But it is relevant—indeed, cardinal—for ascertaining the authorizing model that undergirds each argument, whether midrash or extra-scriptural tradition. If the ribbui of women, aliens, and slaves is semantically independent of the biblical verse to which it is conjoined, it is possible that midrashic discussion of Leviticus 7:8—even if Reichman is correct and the Sifra is redactionally prior to the Mishnah—is not, in fact, the source of the ruling. Stated otherwise, Tzav pereq 9.1 may represent another example of the Sifra importing an extra-scriptural tradition, so that, pace the rhetorical claim to scriptural interpretation, the derashah is, in fact, grounded in a received halakhah. The significance of Reichman’s argument is, in any case, diminished by the fact that m. Zevaḥim 12.2 cites Leviticus 7:8, the same verse explicated by Sifra Tzav. The comparison, then, is between two midrashic passages—one in the Sifra, the other in the Mishnah—and the redactional priority of the Sifra over Mishnah passages that cite Leviticus prooftexts is not altogether surprising. This is true for several of the parallels that Reichman discusses: m. Zevaḥim 9.5 (discussed in Mishnah und Sifra, 42–47) cites Lev. 1:9 and Deut. 12:27 as prooftexts; m. Horayot 1.4 (Mishnah und Sifra, 48–53) cites Lev. 4:13; m. Horayot 3.3 (Mishnah und Sifra, 103–106) cites Lev. 4:22; m. Peʾah 7.7 (Mishnah und Sifra, 161–167) cites Deut. 24:21 and Lev. 19:10. 20. See the discussion in Harris, How Do We Know This?, 220–223. 21. Malbim, Ayelet ha-Shaḥar, §3. Of course, Malbim recognizes how difficult it is to see the connection between halakhic rulings and their putative scriptural source, and he dedicates his commentary to Leviticus to explaining the rabbinic understanding of the

274 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 87 – 1 8 9 Torah’s language, in an attempt to demonstrate the fundamental legitimacy of the Sifra’s interpretations. 22. Yitzhak Isaac Halevy Rabinowitz, Dorot ha-Rishonim (6 vols.; Frankfurt: M. Slobotzky, 1906), 1:307. 23. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 167–168. 24. Halivni, Midrash, Mishnah, and Gemara, 47–48. 25. Halivni, “Reflections on Classical Jewish Hermeneutics,” PAAJR 62 (1996): 50–51. 26. Ibid., 50. 27. Cana Werman has repeatedly expressed surprise that I have made this assertion: see, e.g., Werman, “Oral Torah vs. Written Torah(s): Competing Claims to Authority,” in Steven D. Fraade, Aharon Shemesh, and Ruth A. Clements (eds.), Rabbinic Perspectives: Rabbinic Literature and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 181 n. 25. But as Gerald Blidstein argued, the better manuscripts of tannaitic literature speak of torah ba-peh and not torah she-be-ʿal peh; Blidstein, “A Note on Torah be-ʿAl Peh” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 42 (1973): 496–498. The Weiss edition to Beḥuqotai pereq 8.11 (Weiss 112c) contains the phrase torah be-ʿal peh. MS Assemani 66 is not extant for this section, but the other MSS (Oxford, JTS [Rab. 2171], Parma) have ba-peh (or be-feh), while MS London has torah she-ba-peh. Thus, the phrase torah she-be-ʿal peh appears to be a later development, Abraham Rosenthal’s gnomic objections notwithstanding (Rosenthal, “Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai,” 455 n. 30). 28. Sam Brody, “Shuffling the Tablets: ‘The Authority of Scripture in Rabbinic Literature’ in Contemporary Jewish Thought,” paper written for a graduate seminar at the University of Chicago Divinity School, spring 2009. 29. Halivni, “Reflections on Classical Jewish Hermeneutics,” 43. 30. Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah, 3. 31. Ibid., 40–41. 32. See also Zeʾev Falk’s argument for the priority of the midrashic arguments preserved in m. Shabbat 9.1–4 and their apodictic parallels; Falk, “On Midrash and Mishnah of Rabbi Akiva” (Hebrew), Milet: Everyman’s University Studies in Jewish History and Literature 2 (1984): 93–96. For Falk, “it appears Rabbi Akiva himself transmitted these legal ruling in midrashic form, and these were subsequently reformulated as an abstract mishnah. If this hypothesis is correct, the [midrashic arguments] are more ancient than [the apodictic]” (95). But the argument suffers from several shortcomings. First, a number of the parallels do not fit his schema, since the “apodictic” member is, in fact, midrashic: Shabbat 19.3 (paralleling “Whence do we learn that they may bathe a circumcised baby on the third day even if this falls on a Sabbath?”) is a midrash on Genesis 34:25, just as it is in m. Shabbat 9.3; m. ʿAvodah Zarah 3.6 (paralleling “Whence do we learn of an idol that, like a menstruant, it conveys uncleanness by carrying?”) cites Isaiah 30:22, the prooftext of m. Shabbat 9.1. Second, Falk does not pay sufficient attention to the nuts and bolts of his texts, as when he identifies m. Kilayim 3.1—“A garden bed six handbreadths by six may be sown with five kinds of seed”—as an abstracted form of m. Shabbat 9.2, even though the former provides a mathematical explanation indicating that it is not dependent on Scripture. Or when he fails to recognize that the derashah in which Rabbi



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Eleazar ben Azariah learns from the Sinai pericope that a woman who discharges semen three days after intercourse is pure is already cited in the Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael as a mikan ʾamru argument. This last case strengthens Falk’s argument, as mikan ʾamru accords priority to midrash over extra-scriptural halakhah, even while indicating that this approach has likely been imported from the Mekhilta and is not typical of Rabbi Akiva. The most problematic aspect of Falk’s argument is that with the possible exception of Exodus 19:15 (though not part of a biblical law codex strictu sensu, this is a command that the rabbis have plausibly interpreted as related to ritual purity), the prooftexts cited in the m. Shabbat 9.1–4 derashot are from nonlegal portions of Scripture: three are from Isaiah, one from Psalms, one from Proverbs, and one from the story of the rape of Dinah in Genesis. As Assaf Rosen-Zvi has argued in his analysis of these passages, they are best understood in light of the concluding mishnah in chapter 8 of tractate Shabbat, which contains a debate over the size of a potsherd that cannot be removed from storage on the Sabbath (Assaf Rosen-Zvi, “‘Even Though There Is No Proof of the Matter, There Is an Indication of the Matter’: The Meaning, Character, and Significance of the Phrase in Tannaitic Literature” [Hebrew], Tarbiz 78 [2009]: 322–344). One of the disputants, Rabbi Meir, states: “Although there is no proof of the matter, there is an indication of the matter, as it is written ‘among its fragments not a shard is found for taking fire from the hearth’ (Isa. 30:14). ” The same phrase appears in m. Shabbat 9.4, the concluding mishnah of the group: “Whence to we learn that on the Day of Purgation anointing is equal to drinking? Although there is no proof of the matter, there is an indication of the matter, as it is written ‘May it soak into his body like water, like oil into his bones’ (Ps. 109:18). ” Taken on its own, this mishnah states unequivocally that, contra Falk, the verse is not the source of the ruling but only “an indication” (zekher) of it. More important, A. Rosen-Zvi shows that it is likely that the editor of the Mishnah bracketed the derashot between m. Shabbat 8.7 and 9.4, both of which introduce their prooftexts with the phrase “although there is no proof of the matter, there is an indication of the matter” to suggest that all the (semi-)prooftexts should be understood in this manner. In other words, m. Shabbat is working to diminish the scriptural authority of the hagiographa-prophets prooftexts, contrary to Falk’s thesis. 33. David Zvi Hoffmann, Sefer Vayikra Meforash, translated by Tzvi Har-Sheffer and Aharon Lieberman (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1966), 5. Hoffmann is well aware of the disparity between the written text and the rabbinic legal derashot, but these cases, he argues, do not reflect a fundamental incompatibility, since the Bible “knows” that its teachings are going to be interpreted in light of the halakhah. So while an outsider might doubt the validity of, e.g., the derivation of dietary restrictions from the threefold repetition of the prohibition against boiling a kid in its mother’s milk, the rabbis are simply drawing out of the biblical text the meaning toward which it was geared from the outset: “It is, then, clear that the verses took the halakhah into account and oriented themselves toward it, even though they were not its source” (Hoffmann, Sefer Vayikra Meforash, 6). 34. Epstein, Prolegomena, 511. 35. As noted, earlier scholarship did not always distinguish between legal authority and legal transmission, a confusion evident in some of the works cited below.

276 n o t e s t o pa g e s 1 8 9 – 191 36. See the sources and analysis in Neubauer, “Halakhah and Midrash Halakhah,” 140. 37. Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah, 53. 38. Neubauer, “Halakhah and Midrash Halakhah,” 122 and 139, respectively. 39. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 173. 40. Ibid., 175. 41. Unfortunately, Urbach’s argument was tendentiously ignored by some later scholars. For an egregious example, see Goldberg, “The Early and the Late Midrash,” whose repeated failure to acknowledge Urbach’s important study—even as his arguments engage Urbach’s thesis—prompted the insertion of “editor’s footnotes” into the article, referring to relevant passages in Urbach’s “The Derashah” (94 n. 2, and again at 95 n. 7). One can only assume that Goldberg was aware of these passages but for whatever reason refused to acknowledge them. Further complicating matters, Goldberg’s article appeared in the last year of Urbach’s tenure as editor of Tarbiz, so the editor’s footnotes may have been by Urbach’s own hand. Ah, Jerusalem. 42. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 173. Urbach links the establishment of the derashah as the basis for legal rulings with Rabbi Akiva, a point I will address in the Conclusion. 43. I have placed this word in scare quotes to mark my discomfort with the assumption that textual analysis can seamlessly transition to discussion of the social communities reflected, somehow, in them. That said, it is clear that, say, the ideal of literacy is linked, at least conceptually and often concretely, to certain social and educational institutions. 44. On the term “ideal types,” see Max Weber, Economy and Society: An Outline of Interpretive Sociology, edited by Guenther Roth and Claus Wittich, translated by Ephraim Fischoff et al. (2 vols.; New York: Bedminster, 1968), 1:9–10. I am using the term “ideal types” heuristically, as a way of distilling key elements from each ideology. 45. This ideal type is similar to Weber’s “legal authority,” in which “obedience is owed to the legally established legal order. It extends to the persons exercising the authority of office under it by virtue of the formal legality of their commands,” employing “abstract rules which have normally been intentionally established”; Weber, Economy and Society, 1:216–217. 46. On the importance of memory—and the attendant fear of forgetting—in rabbinic culture, see Yaakov Sussman, “Oral Torah Simpliciter: The Power of the Yod’s Tittle,” Meḥqere Talmud III, 1:209–384 (“the fear lest ‘Torah be forgotten from Israel’ and the existential concern for its preservation . . . runs through the entire rabbinic corpus,” 257). On mnemonic structures within rabbinic sources, see Shlomo Naeh, “Ars Memoriae: Structures of Memory in Rabbinic Literature,” Meḥqere Talmud III, 2:543–589. 47. This reading is attested in both MS Berlin and MS Oxford of the Sifre Deuteronomy; MS Vatican 32 ends before §355. 48. For an attempt to reconstruct the social history of the ḥavurah, see Moshe Beer, “On the Ḥavurah in Eretz Israel in the Amoraic Period” (Hebrew), Zion 47 (1982): 178–185.



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49. It is clear that Hammer’s “the group of Bible scholars . . . of Mishnah scholars . . . of Talmud scholars” is anachronistic, since the word “talmud” in baʿ ale talmud does not refer to a textual corpus, and it is likely that “mishnah” in baʿ ale mishnah does not, either. 50. See above, 138–140, and Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 145–146. 51. Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 147–150. For a fuller discussion of this topic, see Azzan Yadin-Israel, “Qabbalah, Deuterōsis, and Semantic Incommensurability: A Preliminary Study,” in Raʿanan Boustan et al. (eds.), Envisioning Judaism: Studies in Honor of Peter Schäfer on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 917–940. 52. Albeck’s comments on this passage are instructive: “Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua did not have a response based on the plain sense of Scripture, so that ‘we have not heard’ does not refer to a derashah nor to a received tradition, since the phrase ‘we have not heard’ is also employed to indicate not having heard from the Torah. The phrases ‘I hear,’ ‘We have heard the penalty for it but we have not heard the warning against it,’ and ‘but we have not heard,’ which are common in the Mekhilta and the Sifre Numbers, refer to derivation from the Torah” (Albeck, Introduction to the Mishnah, 54). But Albeck is wrong about m. Keritot, for after pleading ignorance (“we have not heard”) regarding Rabbi Akiva’s legal scenario, Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua assert that they have heard regarding a similar case and proceed to cite an exemplary tale, not a biblical verse. Albeck’s reasoning is driven by an understandable—but, all the same, mistaken—assumption that nominal identity (both the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim and the Mishnah use the phrase “we have not heard”) corresponds to semantic identity. 53. I have emended my translation of the word ba-hoveh in light of Tzvi Novick’s comments in What Is Good, 62 n. 4. Yebamot 15.2 suggests that the hoveh case may be the standard or paradigmatic example of a principle, perhaps by virtue of the fact that return from harvest is more common than return from olive picking or the vintage or a journey abroad. 54. Similar pronouncements are made, inter alia, in m. Yebamot 16.7; m. Yadayim 3.5, 4.2, and 4.3; m. Gittin 6.7; m. ʿEduyot 1.6 and 8.7; m. Zevaḥim 1.3. 55. For a survey of relevant sources, see Norman M. Bronznick, “Qabbalah as a Metonym for the Prophets and Hagiographa,” HUCA 38 (1967): 285–295, and the sources cited in E. E. Urbach, “Halakhah and Prophecy” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 18 (1947): 12 n. 97, and A. Rosen-Zvi, “‘Even Though There Is No Proof of the Matter,” 343–344. 56. The vast majority of derashot of this type are found in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim (including Sifra Aḥare Mot pereq 13.14 [Weiss 86b], which is part of the Mekhilta de-ʿArayot). 57. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1970). 58. Einstein’s findings, though revolutionary, were published in established journals of physics, in sharp contradistinction to psychoanalysis, which found it necessary to establish new journals in which to publish. See Lewis S. Feuer, Einstein and the Generations of Science (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction, 1982), 269–270. 59. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 101. 60. Ibid., 101–102.

278 n o t e s t o pa g e s 19 4 – 19 7 61. Ibid., 149. 62. See the literature cited above, Chapter 3 n. 2. 63. The different meaning of, inter alia, ribbah ha-katuv, miʿeṭ ha-katuv, talmud lomar, din in the named tannaitic derashot and the anonymous stratum of the Sifra can be explained in diachronic terms. 64. I have corrected this example from the earlier version in light of Gail Labovitz’s comment, which I gratefully acknowledge. 65. The semantic fluidity of key tannaitic and rabbinic terms is remarkable. The precise sense of aggadah has yet to be secured, with radically different explanations vying for supremacy. According to Bacher, the noun is denominated from maggid (ha-katuv), as “it is clear that the peculiar kind of textual exposition and application which was introduced by the term maggid was what we should now call par excellence, Haggada (Agada), vis., the amplification, the development of the contents of Scripture, which is nevertheless based upon some peculiarity of the Biblical text in question”; W. Bacher, “The Origin of the Word Haggada (Agada),” JQR (o.s.) 4 (1892): 417. Finkelstein, in contrast, concludes that aggadah refers to deliberations concerning the logical relations that hold between extra-scriptural halakhot and between them and Scripture; Louis Finkelstein, “Midrash, Halakhot, and Aggadot” (Hebrew), in Sifra on Leviticus, 5:100–119, originally published in S. W. Baron et al. (eds.), Baer Jubilee Volume (Jerusalem: Israel Historical Society, 1960), 28–35. For a comprehensive bibliographic survey, see Berachyahu Lifschitz, “Aggadah and Its Role in the History of the Oral Law” (Hebrew), Shenaton ha-Mishpat ha-Ivri 22 (2003): 233–328. Halakhah, too, underwent a significant shift. In tannaitic sources, its primary (though not exclusive) sense is extra-scriptural tradition, though in later sources, as today, it denotes rabbinic legal rulings more broadly and serves as the counterpart to aggadah. On the gradual and relatively late emergence of the latter dichotomy, see Barry Wimpfheimer, Narrating the Law: A Poetics of Talmudic Legal Stories (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011), 31–62. But see also Menahem Hirshman’s suggestion that aggadah has a mystical overtone, in his “What Is the Place of the Aggadic Midrashim and Who Are the ‘Masters of Aggadah’?” (Hebrew), Meḥqere Talmud III, 1:190–208. Middah, which has a scriptural and non-scriptural sense (see Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 120–122), may reflect some terminological jostling as well. 66. See the discussion above, 138–140. 67. See discussion in Schwartz, “Hillel and Scripture,” 350–354, which I discuss more fully in the Conclusion. 68. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 176 n. 35. 69. Note Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah’s list: “a half-log of oil for thanksgiving offerings, a quarter-log of oil for the Nazirite offering, and eleven days as the period between two instances of menstrual impurity are halakhah to Moses at Sinai.” The resistance is to scriptural encroachments on a clearly demarcated set of rulings, not to midrashic arguments as such. This tanna himself offers many midrashic arguments, but apparently not when they extend into the realm of established halakhot. 70. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 142–147. David Henshke (Festival Joy in Tannaitic Discourse [Hebrew] [Jerusalem: Magnes, 2007], 8 n. 38) argues against my reading of this



Notes to Pages 197–198

279

passage. According to Henshke, the derashah in question does not refer to legal decisions not anchored in Scripture but rather to those that are incompatible with Scripture (‫מדובר‬ ‫דוקא ב[הלכות] המנוגדות לכתובים‬, Henshke’s emphasis), “as is clear from the cases cited.” But the cases that Rabbi Ishmael cites reveal nothing of the sort. Deuteronomy 15:17 specifies that the ear of the slave is to be pierced with an awl, but the halakhah states that it may be done with any instrument—including, but not limited to, an awl; Leviticus 17:13 states that “he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth” while the halakhah says: “With anything that grows plants”—including but not limited to earth; Deuteronomy 24:1 states that “he writes her a document of divorce” while the halakhah allows the husband to write the writ on anything that was separated from the ground—including, but not limited to, a document. All three, then, are inclusion derashot that expand the scope of the scriptural injunction, like innumerable Sifra derashot, and are not incompatible with or contrary to Scripture. Henshke also claims that the number three is “typological” in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim, which is correct—but beside the point. Several Rabbi Ishmael derashot list three exceptions to a rule, and in each instance, the enumerated items represent an exhaustive list—there are three and only three. Henshke’s most bizarre critique is that my argument is opposed to “the overall Talmudic tradition” (‫ לכלל המסורת התלמודית‬. . . ‫ מנוגד‬. . . ‫)הטיעון‬, and he provides two prooftexts: ‫ הלכתא לר’ ישמעאל קראי לר’ עקיבא‬and ‫ור’ ישמעאל גולל ודופק‬ ‫הלכתא גמירי לה‬, from b. Moʿed Qatan 4a and b. Ḥullin 72a, respectively. One can only wonder: At this point in the academic study of rabbinic literature, does anyone other than Henshke consider Aramaic Bavli dicta compelling evidence for tannaitic views? 71. Though aggadic (and therefore not subject to the strict school division), it is worth noting the Mekhilta’s devaluation of received tradition in tractate Baḥodesh 2 (Horovitz-Rabin, 207; Lauterbach 2:201–202), where it glosses “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians” (Exod. 19:4) as “I tell you this not through received tradition [masoret],” followed by other forms of transmission (e.g., epistolary and witness reports) that were not employed. 72. Alexandra Aikhenvald, “Grammars in Contact: A Cross-Linguistic Approach,” in idem and R. M. W. Dixon (eds.), Grammars in Contact: A Cross-Linguistic Typology (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 10. 73. For a survey of mixed languages, see Yaron Matras and Peter Bakker, “The Study of Mixed Languages,” in Yaron Matras and Peter Bakker (eds.), The Mixed Language Debate: Theoretical and Empirical Advances (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2003), 1–20. 74. E.g., in the Mekhilta’s interpretation of Exodus 20:13 (Mekhilta Baḥodesh 8, Horovitz-Rabin, 232–233; Lauterbach 2:260–261). 75. On the difference between these techniques, see Azzan Yadin, “Shnei Ketuvim and Rabbinic Intermediation,” JSJ 33 (2002): 386–410. 76. See the discussion above, 185. 77. If so, Shemesh and Werman’s argument in “The Hidden Things and Their Revelation,” that the Dead Sea Scrolls are engaged in a polemic with their rivals over the nature of scriptural interpretation, is dramatically weakened. Rather, the accusation that the group’s opponents “have neither sought nor examine in his decrees” (1QS 5.11) and

280 n o t e s t o pa g e s 19 9 – 2 0 2 their characterization as dorshe ḥalaqot/halakhot are two sides of the same coin: they fail to consult Scripture, interpreting extra-scriptural traditions instead. 78. See the discussion of m. ʾOhalot 16.1 above, 105–106. 79. Sifre Zutaʾ Ḥuqqat 19, Horovitz ed., 313. 80. See the sources cited above, 189. 81. Goldberg, “The Early and the Late Midrash,” 100. Goldberg acknowledges that the Sifra occasionally employs the “ancient practice of juxtaposing a legal ruling to a verse without any intention of proving (or: deriving) the ruling from the verse” but claims that this form is found “mainly in the sections that are of no concern for the halakhah,” 100 n. 17. 82. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 173. 83. N.B.: Rabban Yoanan ben Zakkai is not concerned that the ruling will be forgotten, and Rabbi Akiva does not offer (and Rabbi Yehoshua does not celebrate) the derashah for its mnemonic contribution. 84. T. Yebamot 2.4. See also the scholium to Megillat Taʿanit for Adar (Noam ed., 131). 85. The following summarizes Albert I. Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects in the Maccabean Era: An Interpretation (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1997), 114–136. 86. This is one of two transformations that Baumgarten surveys, the other being the Torah’s passage from exclusive patrimony of the priesthood to broader circles of the populace. 87. Testament of Levi 13:2–3; 2 Macc. 2:14–15; and Josephus, Contra Apion 2.204; all cited in A. Baumgarten, The Flourishing of Jewish Sects, 117–121. 88. Hindy Najman, “Authoritative Writing and Interpretation: A Study in the History of Scripture” (Ph.D. diss., Harvard University, 1998), the findings of much of which are summarized in idem, “The Symbolic Significance of Writing in Ancient Judaism,” in idem and Judith H. Newman (eds.), The Idea of Biblical Interpretation: Essays in Honor of James Kugel (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 139–173. I thank Prof. Najman for providing me with a copy of her dissertation. For a discussion of the textualization of the Bible itself, see Karel van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009). 89. Robert Lamberton, Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical Reading and the Growth of the Epic Tradition (Berkeley: University of California, 1986), 21. 90. Mary Beard, “Writing and Religion: Ancient Literacy and the Function of the Written Word in Roman Religion,” in J. H. Humphrey (ed.), Literacy in the Roman World (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991). The shift may be motivated in part by the rise of oracular pilgrimage centers such as the Temple of Apollo at Claros (near present-day Izmir). Individuals as well as civic delegations from cities and towns from throughout the Roman empire—and Asia Minor, in particular—made the pilgrimage to Claros for consultations. Upon return to their city, they often inscribed the god’s response in stone. In Oenoanda (southern Turkey), Apollo’s response to one inquiry was inscribed on the city wall, such that it was illuminated by the first rays of the rising sun.



Notes to Pages 202–204

281

A few feet beneath the inscription, one citizen dedicated an altar (built into the wall as well) to the “Most High God,” fixing the written words of the oracle as an object of worship. See also Jacqueline Campeaux, “De la parole à l’écriture: Essai sur le langage des oracles,” in J. G. Heintz (ed.), Oracles et prophéties dans l’antiquité: Actes du Colloque de Strasbourg 15–17 juin 1995 (Paris: De Bocard, 1997), 405–438. 91. See Pieter W. van der Horst’s survey of ancient sortes and his intriguing argument that 1 and 2 Maccabees refer to sortes consultation of the Torah; van der Horst, “Sortes: Sacred Books as Instant Oracles in Late Antiquity,” in L. V. Rutgers et al. (eds.), The Use of Sacred Books in the Ancient World (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 143–174. 92. Pseudo-Plutarch, Essays on the Life and Poetry of Homer, translated by J. J. Keaney and Robert Lamberton (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 311. Keaney and Lamberton estimate the dating of this essay to be “later than Plutarch [d. ad 120], probably by two or three generations, and possibly by more, though there is nothing to show that it must be dated later than the year 200,” 9. See also their discussion of the priority of Vergilian sortes to Homeric in the same work, 28–29. 93. David Frankfurter, “Voices, Books, and Dreams: The Diversification of Divination Media in Late Antique Egypt,” in Sarah Iles Johnston and Peter T. Struck (eds.), Mantikê: Studies in Ancient Divination (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 233–254; see also Frankfurter, Religion in Roman Egypt: Assimilation and Resistance (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 145–197. 94. Alexander, Transmitting Mishnah, 77–116. As Alexander demonstrates, the posttannaitic sages applied to the Mishnah assumptions such as linguistic economy and intentionality; and the emergence of tzerikhutaʾ, the notion that every word in the interpreted text is part of this development. 95. Rav, who is identified in rabbinic sources as the key figure in the transmission of the Mishnah to Babylonia, was a disciple of Rabbi Judah the Patriarch’s, but there is no indication that he translated the oral-traditional model with him. In any case, there was already an established Babylonian rabbinate in place at the time of Rav’s arrival (Shmuel, Shmuel’s father, etc.). 96. The Bavli passage, along with later developments of this derashah in Seder Eliyahu Zutaʾ, is analyzed in detail in Vidas, Tradition and the Formation of the Talmud. 97. There is some ambiguity as to who makes this last statement, Rabbi Akiva or his students, though the logic of the dialogue as a whole, and the stam’s qualification that “Rabbi Akiva, too, made his statement only for the purpose of exercising the wits of the students,” suggests the former. Whoever the author, it is a remarkable statement remarkably cited by the Bavli. 98. I understand this to be a debate waged by proxy, through attributions to tannaitic masters. If we take the attributions as historically accurate, they serve as additional evidence for tannaitic conflict. 99. The term appears in Ḥova pereq 1.12 (Weiss 16c; TK 71 [margins] [Rabbi Akiva]; Tzav pereq 11.4, 6 (Weiss 34d–35a; TK 155 [Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah]); Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 5.4–5 (Weiss 77b; TK 323–324 [a debate between Rabbi Eliezer, Rabbi Yehoshua,

282 n o t e s t o pa g e s 2 0 4 – 2 0 6 and Rabbi Akiva]); Qedoshim pereq 3.5 (Weiss 88b; TK 396 [the statement is unattributed in the Sifra but is attributed to Rabbi Shimon in the parallel at m. Peʾah 4.1–2]); ʾEmor parashah 10.11 (Weiss, 100c–d; TK 447 [Rabbi Shimon]); ʾEmor pereq 13.10 (Weiss 101c; TK 450 [Rabbi Shimon]); Behar pereq 3.5 (Weiss 107c). It does occur anonymously in Beḥuqotai pereq 6.1, Weiss 112a, but this is an aggadic derashah. 100. It is worth emphasizing that even the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim acknowledge the fundamental legitimacy of extra-scriptural halakhot. By limiting their number to three, Rabbi Ishmael greatly diminishes their importance but remains within the pale, so to speak, in recognizing both scriptural and extra-scriptural authority. 101. A diachronic explanation holds obvious appeal: the trajectory of increasing prestige for midrash, diminishing prestige for extra-scriptural traditions—already evident in tannaitic sources—continued to the point that extra-scriptural authority was altogether marginalized. Still, one cannot rule out the possibility that the sharp break between the tannaitic and anonymous strata of the Sifra came about as the result of a geographic move. 102. My thinking on this point is indebted, in different ways, to Bernard Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997) and Ghilʾad Zuckermann, Language Contact and Lexical Enrichment in Israeli Hebrew (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). 103. The same holds for Aḥare pereq 10.2 (Weiss 84a; TK 361 [=§4.55N]), where Rabbi Shimon’s ʾish ʾish derashah correlates the two occurrences of ʾish (“individual”) with two individuals making an offering. 104. Precious little is known of the historical setting of the Sifra’s redaction (or redactions), so all discussions of the matter are, to some extent, speculative. However, it is worth noting Naeh’s important comments on the rabbinic prohibition against writing the Oral Law: On the question of codification, it may be necessary to distinguish between the two genres that make up the tannaitic legal corpus—mishnah and legal midrash. These two genres are clearly distinguished throughout talmudic literature, both tannaitic and amoraic, as distinct literary categories, a point reflected in terminology that opposes midrash to halakhot. We must, then, note that the tannaitic tradition preserved in the Babylonian Talmud forbids the writing halakhot, specifically: “These [miqraʾ] you may write but you may not write halakhot” (b. Gittin 60b)—an interdiction that, following the standard meaning of halakhot, does not apply to rabbinic literature as such, but only to the genre so named. Since halakhot are opposed to midrash, it stands to reason that this tradition—the only one in the entire talmud corpus that mentions an interdiction against writing down the Oral Law—does not prohibit the writing of midrash. (Naeh, “The Structure and Division of Torat Kohanim [A]: Scrolls,” 506)



Notes to Pages 207–210

283

Naeh’s observation suggests that what I have called the Sifra’s hermeneutic of camouflage may have served a dual purpose: to recast halakhot as scriptural (in response to the rising prestige of the written text); and to circumvent the rabbinic prohibition against writing halakhot. See also Martin Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism, 200 BCE–400 CE (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). My discussion has not given this important book its proper due and I regret the omission.

Conclusion 1. Daniel Boyarin, personal communication while walking to class, Berkeley, 1998. 2. Urbach, “The Derashah,” 178. 3. Schwartz, “Hillel and Scripture,” 350–354. Schwartz’s article is another example of the tendency toward diachronic explanation, discussed in Chapter 9, above. 4. Ibid., 352. 5. Ibid., 353. 6. Kahana, Sifre Zutaʾ on Deuteronomy, 367–374. 7. Ibid., 372. 8. On this passage, see Ishay Rosen-Zvi, “‘Even if One Found a More Beautiful Woman’: An Analysis of Grounds for Divorce in Rabbinic Literature” (Hebrew), JSIJ 3 (2003): 1–11. 9. Kahana, Sifre Zutaʾ on Deuteronomy, 373–374. 10. Kahana is using the word “halakhot” in the broad sense that it carries today, “legal rulings,” without reference to oral-traditional ideology as such. 11. Rabbi Akiva’s standing as midrashist par excellence is so widely accepted that it often is affirmed in passing, without need for discussion or support. See, inter alia, Ishay Rosen-Zvi, “A Protocol of the Yavnean Academy? Rereading Tosefta Sanhedrin Chapter 7” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 78 (2009): 459; Mandel, “Rabbi So-and-So Darash,” 48. 12. E.g., the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim do not contain unresolved disputes. When an interpretation is challenged, the grounds for the challenge and the rationale for the new interpretation are clearly set forth. Indeed, many of the Rabbi Ishmael disputes involve disagreements over matters of interpretation, even when the disputants agree on the legal conclusion. (See, e.g., the dispute between Rabbi Yoshaiah and Rabbi Yonatan in Mekhilta Neziqin 15, Horovitz-Rabin, 302; Lauterbach 3:119, discussed in Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 3.) In the early stratum of tannaitic Sifra derashot, in contrast, we find mutually exclusive interpretations juxtaposed without the slightest discomfort, as when Rabbi Yose the Galilean holds that the word kol in Leviticus 2:11 (“No cereal offering that you offer”) introduces the bread of presence, while Rabbi Akiva holds that it introduces the libation offering (see §6.15). The early Sifra is not troubled by this juxtaposition, since neither sage claims that the verse is the source of the ruling.

‫‪284 n o t e s t o pa g e s 2 2 1 – 2 2 9‬‬

‫‪Appendix‬‬ ‫‪.1‬בנ’[גע] הצ[רעת] לש[מר] מ[אד] ולע[עשות]‪.‬‬ ‫‪ .2‬התיבה “יסגיר” אינה מופיעה בשאר עדי הנוסח (כ”יי וטיקן ‪ ,13‬ניו יורק‪ ,‬לונדון‪ ,‬אוקספורד‪ ,‬פרמה)‪.‬‬

Bibliogr aphy

R abbinic Texts and Editions Sifra Sefer Torat Kohanim with the Commentaries of Rabad of Posquieres, Rabbi Samson of Sens, and the Gaon of Vilna. Jerusalem: Sifra, 1959. Sefer Vayiqra with ha-Torah ve-ha-Mitzvah, the Commentary of Malbim. Bnei Brak: Mosdot Alexander, 2000. Sifra, der älteste Midrasch zu Levitikus. Edited by Meir Friedmann (Ish Shalom). Breslau, 1915. Reprint, Jerusalem: n.p., 1967. Sifra: Commentar zu Leviticus. Edited by H. Weiss. Vienna: Schlossberg, 1862. Sifra on Leviticus. Edited by Louis Finkelstein. 5 vols. New York: JTS, 1983–1992. Sifra on Leviticus. Edited by Rabbi Avraham Shoshana. Jerusalem: Ofeq, 1991–1998. Sifra or Torat Kohanim. Edited by Louis Finkelstein. New York: JTS, 1956. Sifra with the Commentary of Rabbenu Hillel. Edited by Shachne Koleditzky. Jerusalem: n.p., 1992. Sifra with the Commentary of Rabbi Avraham ben David. Jerusalem: Sifra, 1959. Sifra with Derekh ha-Qodesh Commentary. Rabbi Vidal Serfaty. Jerusalem: Dovevi Siftei Yeshenim, 1985.

Other Rabbinic Sources Avot de-Rabbi Natan: Synoptische Edition beider Versionen. Edited by Hans-Jürgen Becker. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006. Kahana, Menahem. The Genizah Fragments of the Halakhic Midrashim. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2005 [Hebrew]. Lekaḥ Tov. Edited by Shelomo Buber. Lvov, 1878. Massekhet Kallah. Edited by Michael Higger, 191–192. New York: Moinester, 1936. Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael. Edited by Haim Shaul Horovitz and Israel Rabin. Jerusalem: Bamberger and Wahrman, 1960.

286

Bibl iogr a ph y

Mekilta de-Rabbi Ishmael. Translated by Jacob Lauterbach. 3 vols. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1933–1936. Midrash Bereshit Rabbah. Edited by Judah Theodor and Chanoch Albeck. Jerusalem: Wahrman, 1965. Midrash ha-Gadol. Edited by Mordechai Margaliyot. Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1947. Midrash Rabbah: Genesis. Translated by H. Freedman. In Midrash Rabbah, edited by H. Freedman and M. Simon. London: Soncino, 1983. Midrash Rabbah: Exodus. Translated by J. Slotki. In Midrahs Rabbah, edited by H. Freedman and M. Simon. London: Soncino, 1951. Midrash Tannaim zum Deuteronomium. Edited by David Zvi Hoffmann. Berlin, 1908. Reprint, Jerusalem: n.p., 1984. The Mishnah. Translated by Herbert Danby. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933. Shisha Sidrei Mishnah. Edited by Chanoch Albeck. Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1952–1959. Sifre on Numbers: An Annotated Edition. Edited by Menahem I. Kahana. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2011. Sifre Zutaʾ on Deuteronomy: Citations from a New Tannaitic Midrash. Edited by Menahem I. Kahana. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2002. Sifre Zutaʾ. Edited by H. S. Horovitz. Leipzig, 1917. Reprint, Jerusalem: Shalem, 1992 (bound with Sifre Numbers). Siphre ad Deuteronomium. Edited by Louis Finkelstein. New York: JTS, 1993. The Tosefta. Edited by Saul Lieberman. New York: JTS, 1955–1973. Tosefta. Edited by Moses Samuel Zuckermandel. Jerusalem: Bamberger and Wahrman, 1963. Tosefta ki-feshuṭah: A Comprehensive Commentary on the Tosefta. Edited and annotated by Saul Lieberman. Jerusalem: JTS, 2001.

Non-R abbinic Ancient Sources Ante-Nicene Fathers. Edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson. New York, 1885. Reprint, Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1999. Clement of Alexandria. Stromata. In Ante-Nicene Fathers. 2.511. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Study Edition. Edited by Florentino García Martínez and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar. 2 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Fourth Ezra: A Commentary on the Book of Fourth Ezra. Translated by M. E. Stone. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990. Josephus Flavius. Antiquities of the Jews. In The Works of Josephus, translated by William Whiston. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1987. Justin Martyr. Dialogue with Trypho. Translated by Thomas B. Falls and revised by Thomas P. Halton; edited by Michael Slusser. Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2003.



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I n d e x o f C l a s s ic a l S o u r c e s

The index locorum contains passages discussed in the body of the book and in the endnotes, but not those cited without discussion to buttress or further document the point at hand.

Sifra Nedavah parashah 2.3 (Weiss 4c), 41 Nedavah parashah 4.4 (Weiss 6b), 130 Nedava parashah 4.4–5 (Weiss 6b), 121–23, 138, 226 Nedavah parashah 4.6 (Weiss 6b), 29 Nedavah parashah 4.6 (Weiss 6b–c), 99 Nedavah pereq 5.7 (Weiss 7a), 19, 60 Nedavah parashah 5.2 (Weiss 7c), 11 Nedavah parashah 5.4 (Weiss 7d), 35 Nedavah pereq 7.6 (Weiss 8a), 42 Nedavah parashah 6.9 (Weiss 8b–c), 51 Nedavah pereq 8.3 (Weiss 8c), 236 n.10 Nedavah parashah 7.3 (Weiss 8d), 131 Nedavah pereq 9.6 (Weiss 9b), 43 Nedavah pereq 9.7 (Weiss 9b), 40, 91 Nedavah pereq 12.3–4 (Weiss 11a), 83 Nedavah parashah 11.1 (Weiss 11a–b), 17, 27 Nedavah parashah 12.2 (Weiss 11d), 28, 128, 283 n.12 Nedavah parashah 13.4 (Weiss 12c), 130 Nedavah pereq 15.5 (Weiss 13a), 38 Nedavah pereq 17.6 (Weiss 13c), 50 Nedavah pereq 19.2 (Weiss 14d), 257 n.41 Nedavah parashah 14.6 (Weiss 14b), 128 Ḥovah parashah 1.1 (Weiss 15b), 39, 99 Ḥova pereq 1.12 (Weiss 16c), 106 Ḥovah parashah 2.6 (Weiss 16d–17a), 29 Ḥovah parashah 2.6 (Weiss 17a), 68 Ḥovah pereq 3.1 (Weiss 17b), 139 Ḥovah parashah 3.1–3 (Weiss 17c), 64 Ḥovah pereq 4.1 (Weiss 18c), 18 Ḥovah pereq 5.3 (Weiss 18d), 246 n.29 Ḥovah pereq 6.1 (Weiss 19b), 54 Ḥovah parashah 8.3 (Weiss 22c), 129

Ḥovah parashah 8.5 (Weiss 22c), 92 Ḥovah parashah 8.6 (Weiss 22c), 248 n.48 Ḥovah pereq 11.1 (Weiss 22c), 119 Ḥovah parashah 9.8 (Weiss 23c), 95 Ḥovah pereq 18.9 (Weiss 24d), 22 Ḥovah pereq 19.5 (Weiss 25a), 38 Ḥovah pereq 19.5 (Weiss 25a–b), 43 Ḥovah pereq 19.9 (Weiss 25b), 22 Ḥovah parashah 11.1 (Weiss 25c), 39 Ḥovah pereq 20.2 (Weiss 26a), 43 Ḥovah parashah 12.1 (Weiss 26b), 119, 134 Ḥovah parashah 12.8 (Weiss 26d–27a), 130 Ḥovah pereq 22.3 (Weiss 27d), 271 n.41 Ḥovah pereq 22.4 (Weiss 27d), 127 Ḥovah parashah 13.9 (Weiss 28c), 63 Tzav parashah 1.3 (Weiss 29a), 130 Tzav pereq 1.8 (Weiss 29b), 11, 60 Tzav pereq 2.1 (Weiss 29d), 60 Tzav pereq 2.1 (Weiss 30a), 257 n.41 Tzav pereq 2.4 (Weiss 30a), 57 Tzav parashah 2.3 (Weiss 30c), 130 Tzav parashah 3.2 (Weiss 32a–b), 38 Tzav pereq 6.7–8 (Weiss 32c–d), 85 Tzav pereq 7.1 (Weiss 32d), 58 Tzav pereq 8.1 (Weiss 33a), 120, 137 Tzav parashah 4.2 (Weiss 33c), 18 Tzav pereq 9.1 (Weiss 33d), 273 n.19 Tzav pereq 11.1 (Weiss 34d), 57 Tzav pereq 11.4–6 (Weiss 34d–35a), 120, 123–24, 196 Tzav pereq 12.1 (Weiss 35c), 62 Tzav pereq 13.3 (Weiss 36d), 36, 91 Tzav pereq 13.9 (Weiss 37b), 39 Tzav pereq 14.7 (Weiss 38a), 24 Tzav parashah 10.4 (Weiss 38c), 128 Tzav parashah 10.10 (Weiss 38d), 39

300 i n de x o f c l a s s ic a l s ou r c e s Tzav pereq 17.5 (Weiss 40b), 13 Shemini pereq 1.5 (Weiss 47a), 11, 135 Shemini pereq 1.9 (Weiss 47a), 13 Shemini parashah 2.9 (Weiss 48a), 55 Shemini pereq 3.1 (Weiss 48b), 73 Shemini pereq 5.2 (Weiss 50b–c), 130 Shemini pereq 5.4 (Weiss 50c), 28 Shemini pereq 5.10 (Weiss 51a), 79 Shemini parashah 4.1 (Weiss 51a), 56 Shemini parashah 5.7 (Weiss 52b), 28 Shemini pereq 7.2 (Weiss 52b), 90 Shemini pereq 7.4 (Weiss 52b–c), 130 Shemini parashah 6.5 (Weiss 52d), 89 Shemini parashah 7.12 (Weiss 54b), 121 Shemini pereq 9.1–2 (Weiss 54c), 242 n.13 Shemini parashah 9.7 (Weiss 56a), 258 n.45 Shemini parashah 10.6 (Weiss 57a), 126 Shemini pereq 12.6 (Weiss 57b), 28 Tazriʿa pereq 1.2 (Weiss 58b–c), 131 Tazriʿa pereq 1.4 (Weiss 58c), 70 Tazriʿa pereq 4.1 (Weiss 59c), 88 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 1.1 (Weiss 60a), 126 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 2.2 (Weiss 60c), 80 Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 2.3–4 (Weiss 61a), 84 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 2.10 (Weiss 61a), 20 Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 4.5 (Weiss 64d), 90 Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 4.8 (Weiss 64d), 20 Tazriʿa Negaʿim parashah 5.1 (Weiss 65b), 136 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 9.15 (Weiss 66d), 257 n.42 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 10.1 (Weiss 67a), 22, 27, 55 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 12.6 (Weiss 67d), 130 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 13.1–2 (Weiss 68b), 36 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 15.9 (Weiss 69b), 84, 87 Tazriʿa Negaʿim pereq 16.9 (Weiss 69c–d), 139 Metzoraʿ parashah 1.4 (Weiss 70a–b), 132 Metzoraʿ pereq 2.1 (Weiss 71b), 61 Metzoraʿ parashah 4.4 (Weiss 72c), 132 Metzoraʿ parashah 4.5 (Weiss 72c), 139 Metzoraʿ parashah 5.11 (Weiss 73a), 86–87 Metzoraʿ parashah 6.4 (Weiss 73b), 126 Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 1.1 (Weiss 74d), 33, 237 n.22 Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 2.10–11 (Weiss 76b), 80 Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 6.7 (Weiss 78a), 34 Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 4.1 (Weiss 78a), 34

Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.1 (Weiss 78d), 243 n.31 Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.5 (Weiss 79a), 50, 243 n.30 Metzoraʿ Zavim parashah 5.7 (Weiss 79a), 161 Metzoraʿ Zavim pereq 9.12 (Weiss 79c), 132, 208 Aḥare Mot parashah 1.2 (Weiss 79c), 132 Aḥare Mot parashah 4.1 (Weiss 81d), 125 Aḥare Mot parashah 5.5–6 (Weiss 82d), 81 Aḥare Mot pereq 7.9 (Weiss 83a), 237 n.21, 238 n.23 Aḥare Mot pereq 8.8 (Weiss 83b), 16 Aḥare Mot parashah 6.3 (Weiss 83c), 24 Aḥare Mot pereq 9.6 (Weiss 84a), 43 Aḥare Mot pereq 10.1 (Weiss 84a), 237 n.21, 248–49 n.55 Aḥare Mot pereq 10.2 (Weiss 84a), 257 n.41 Aḥare Mot pereq 10.8 (Weiss 84b), 20, 54–55 Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1 (Weiss 84c), 26 Aḥare Mot parashah 8.1–2 (Weiss 84c), 23, 37, 68, 98, 257 n.41 Aḥare Mot pereq 11.1 (Weiss 84c), 33, 237 n.21 Aḥare Mot pereq 11.4 (Weiss 84c), 29, 56 Aḥare Mot pereq 11.10 (Weiss 84c), 43 Aḥare Mot pereq 13.1 (Weiss 85d), 33 Qedoshim pereq 1.7 (Weiss 87b), 58 Qedoshim pereq 1.11–2.1 (Weiss 87c–d), 83 Qedoshim pereq 3.1 (Weiss 88a), 130 Qedoshim parashah 2.13 (Weiss 88d), 69 Qedoshim parashah 3.3 (Weiss 90a), 129 Qedoshim parashah 3.4 (Weiss 90a), 93 Qedoshim parashah 10.1–2 (Weiss 91b), 33 Qedoshim pereq 9.8 (Weiss 92a), 33, 37 Qedoshim pereq 9.9 (Weiss 92a), 125 ʾEmor pereq 1.1–3 (Weiss 94b), 49 ʾEmor parashah 3.15 (Weiss 95c), 125 ʾEmor pereq 3.1–2 (Weiss 95c), 98 ʾEmor pereq 3.2 (Weiss 95c), 36 ʾEmor pereq 4.1 (Weiss 96c), 236 n37 ʾEmor pereq 4.4 (Weiss 96c–d), 32 ʾEmor pereq 4.18 (Weiss 97a), 119, 132 ʾEmor pereq 5.5 (Weiss 97c–d), 90 ʾEmor parashah 7.1 (Weiss 98a), 32, 37 ʾEmor parashah 7.2 (Weiss 98a), 120, 137 ʾEmor parashah 9.8 (Weiss 100a), 120, 134 ʾEmor parashah 12.7 (Weiss 102b), 131 ʾEmor pereq 16.3 (Weiss 102d), 61 ʾEmor pereq 17.9 (Weiss 103a), 238 n23 ʾEmor pereq 19.4 (Weiss 104d), 34



i n de x o f c l a s s ic a l s ou r c e s

ʾEmor pereq 20.6 (Weiss 104d), 43 Behar parashah 1.7 (Weiss 105c), 89 Behar pereq 1.3 (Weiss 105d), 255–56 n.22 Behar parashah 3.9 (Weiss 107d), 18 Behar pereq 4.5 (Weiss 108a), 255 n.22 Beḥuqotai parashah 3.1–2 (Weiss 112c–d), 47 Beḥuqotai pereq 11.2 (Weiss 114b), 93 Beḥuqotai parashah 8.2 (Weiss 114c), 45

Mekhilta of Rabbi Ishmael Pisḥa 5 (Horovitz-Rabin 14), 193 Pisḥa 5 (Horovitz-Rabin 16), 77 Pisḥa 5 (Horovitz-Rabin 17), 75 Pisḥa 6 (Horovitz-Rabin 18), 56 Pisḥa 7 (Horovitz-Rabin 22), 243 n.29 Pisḥa 8 (Horovitz-Rabin 26), 247 n. 41 Pisḥa 8 (Horovitz-Rabin 29), 247 n. 41 Pisḥa 13 (Horovitz-Rabin 44), 21 Pisḥa 15 (Horovitz-Rabin 54), 240 n.49 Pisḥa 8 (Horovitz-Rabin 64), 247 n. 41 Pisḥa 17 (Horovitz-Rabin 65), 77 Pisḥa 18 (Horovitz-Rabin 71), 75 Baḥodesh 2 (Horovitz-Rabin 207), 279 n.71 Baḥodesh 3 (Horovitz-Rabin 214), 75 Baḥodesh 5 (Horovitz-Rabin 219), 169 Baḥodesh 11 (Horovitz-Rabin 244–45), 243 n.33 Neziqin 1 (Horovitz-Rabin 246), 77 Neziqin 3 (Horovitz-Rabin 257), 75 Neziqin 3 (Horovitz-Rabin 259), 13 Neziqin 5 (Horovitz-Rabin 267), 247 n.40 Neziqin 10 (Horovitz-Rabin 284), 75 Neziqin 14 (Horovitz-Rabin 298), 259 n.54 Neziqin 15 (Horovitz-Rabin 302), 77 Neziqin 16 (Horovitz-Rabin 302–3), 168, 192 Neziqin 16 (Horovitz-Rabin 304), 77 Neziqin 17 (Horovitz-Rabin 307–8), 63 Kaspaʾ 1 (Horovitz-Rabin 316), 75 Kaspaʾ 1 (Horovitz-Rabin 318), 75 Kaspaʾ 19 (Horovitz-Rabin 319), 75 Kaspaʾ 20 (Horovitz-Rabin 328), 75 Kaspaʾ 20 (Horovitz-Rabin 333), 76 Kaspaʾ 20 (Horovitz-Rabin 335), 234 n.1 Kaspaʾ 20 (Horovitz-Rabin 336), 234 n.1

Sifre Numbers Sifre Numbers §20 (Kahana 1.54), 234 n.6

301

Sifre Numbers §29 (Kahana 1.84–85), 240 n.49 Sifre Numbers §38 (Kahana 1.101), 234 n.6 Sifre Numbers §69 (Kahana 1.167–68), 169 Sifre Numbers §112 (Kahana 1.‫)יב‬, 11, 242 n.23 Sifre Numbers §119 (Kahana 1.‫)לא‬, 173 Sifre Numbers §126 (Kahana 1.‫)מו‬, 241 n.4

Sifre Deuteronomy Sifre Deuteronomy §122 (Finkelstein 180), 197 Sifre Deuteronomy §160 (Finkelstein 211), 184 Sifre Deuteronomy §355 (Finkelstein 418), 191 Sifre Deuteronomy §357 (Finkelstein 429), 149, 152, 156

Sifre Zutaʾ Sifre Zutaʾ Numbers Ḥuqqat 19 (Horovitz 312–13), 199 Sifre Zutaʾ to Deuteronomy 24:16 (Kahana 367), 208

Midrash Tannaim Midrash Tannaim to Deuteronomy 18:13 (Hoffmann 110–11), 171

Mishnah m. Berakhot 1.3, 242 n.25 m. Berakhot 5.5, 175 m. Peʾah 2.1–4, 83 m. Peʾah 2.6, 193 m. Peʾah 7.7, 249–50 n. 2 m. Peʾah 8.9, 75 m. Sheviʿit 8.9, 270 n.2 m. Sheviʿit 9.1, 255 n.22 m. Terumot 3.6, 75 m. ʿOrlah 1.2, 93 m. Bikkurim 1.2, 116 m. Shabbat 8.7, 274 n.32 m. Shabbat 9.1–4, 274–75 n.32 m. Shabbat 19.3, 274 n.32

302 i n de x o f c l a s s ic a l s ou r c e s m. Pesaḥim 1.3, 77 m. Pesaḥim 5.5, 75 m. Pesaḥim 6.2, 207, 208 m. Pesaḥim 9.6, 106, 198 m. Sukkah 3.4, 248 n.45 m. Taʿanit 3.8, 175 m. Taʿanit 4.4, 104 m. Megillah 4.10, 171 m. Ḥagigah 1.1, 76 m. Ḥagigah 1.8, 197 m. Ḥagigah 2.1, 170–72 m. Yebamot 7.5, 90 m. Yebamot 8.3, 250 n.9 m. Yebamot 8.4, 106 m. Yebamot 12.3, 249–50 n. 2 m. Yebamot 15.2, 277 n.52 m. Ketubot 2.10, 115 m. Nazir 7.2–3, 106 m. Soṭah 2.4, 111 m. Soṭah 5.2, 121 m. Soṭah 9.15, 177 m. Gittin 9.8, 77 m. Gittin 9.10, 209 m. Babaʾ Qamaʾ 4.9, 75 m. Baba Metziʿaʾ 5.11, 75 m. Sanhedrin 1.1, 77 m. Sanhedrin 3.4, 104, 208 m. Sanhedrin 7.11, 104 m. Sanhedrin 10.4, 249–50 n. 2 m. Makkot 1.7, 249–50 n. 2 m. Shevuʿot 1.2–6, 85 m. Shevuʿot 3.5, 95, 97 m. Shevuʿot 4.11, 92 m. Shevuʿot 7.1, 77 m. ʿEduyot 6.2, 199 m. ʿEduyot 7.1–4, 81 m. ʿEduyot 7.2, 79 m. ʿAvodah Zarah 3.6, 274 n.32 m. ʾAvot 1.1, 117, 192 m. ʾAvot 3.9, 268 n.71 m. ʾAvot 4.20, 142 m. ʾAvot 6.1, 177 m. ʾAvot 6.2, 268 n.63 m. ʾAvot 6.6, 177 m. Zevaḥim 1.4, 91 m. Zevaḥim 2.1, 91 m. Zevaḥim 6.6, 92 m. Zevaḥim 9.2, 91 m. Zevaḥim 11.6–7, 85 m. Zevaḥim 12.2–3, 273 n.19 m. Zevaḥim 12.6, 81

m. Menaḥot 3.3, 112 m. Menaḥot 3.4, 112 m. Menaḥot 3.6, 111 m. Menaḥot 3.7, 110–12 m. Menaḥot 6.4, 83 m. Menaḥot 13.11, 47 m. Ḥullin 4.7, 73 m. Ḥullin 8.4, 107 m. Ḥullin 9.5 and 9.6, 90 m. Bekhorot 1.7, 75 m. Bekhorot 2.6, 75 m. Bekhorot 7.6, 98 m. ʿArakhin 2.5, 77 m. ʿArakhin 7.4, 94 m. ʿArakhin 8.7, 46 m. Keritot 1.3, 88 m. Keritot 2.5, 249–50 n. 2 m. Keritot 3.7, 104, 115, 192, 198, 277 n. 52 m. Keritot 3.7–10, 104, 115 m. Keritot 3.9, 106, 117 m. Kelim 15.1, 89 m. ʾOhalot 16.1, 105 m. Negaʿim 1.1, 84 m. Negaʿim 2.3, 86–87 m. Negaʿim 4.5, 90 m. Negaʿim 4.11, 80 m. Negaʿim 11.7, 139 m. Negaʿim 11.11 m. Parah 1.1, 192, 197 m. Mikvaʾot 8.3, 75 m. Zavim 5.1, 80 m. Zavim 5.2, 81 m. Yadayim 4.3, 181

Tosefta t. Maʿaśer Sheni 5.9, 173 t. Shabbat 4.9 [5.9], 111 t. Sukkah 2.6, 115 t. Megillah 4.34, 171 t. Ḥagigah 2.1–2, 176 t. Yebamot 2.4, 183, 201 t. Ketubot 4.7, 148, 156 t. Soṭah 13.3, 174 t. Soṭah 13.4, 174 t. Sanhedrin 7.11, 252 n.31 t. ʿAvodah Zarah 3.1–2, 253 n.44 t. Kelim [Batraʾ] 1.11, 115 t. Niddah 6.6, 105 t. Yadayim 2.8, 182



i n de x o f c l a s s ic a l s ou r c e s

Jerusalem Talmud y. Shabbat 6.1, 7d, 143 y. Pesaḥim 6.1, 33a, 196 y. Pesaḥim 6.3, 33b, 143, 145–46, 156 y. Megillah 1.9, 12b, 260 n.19 y. Nazir 7.1, 56a, 144–46, 260 n.23 y. Soṭah 9.15, 24c, 143–45

Genesis Rabbah 100.10, 152–56 Exodus Rabbah 15.22, 161 Numbers Rabbah 19.6, 118

Yalqut Shimoni Yalqut Shimoni §965, 262 n.43

Babylonian Talmud

Pesiqta Rabbati

b. Berakhot 34b, 177 b. Shabbat 31a, 115 b. Shabbat 89a, 109 b. Pesaḥim 49b, 146 b. Yomaʾ 35b, 115 b. Taʿanit 23a, 177, 268 n.72 b. Moʿed Qatan 4a, 279 n.70 b. Moʿed Qatan 20a, 142 b. Ketubot 62b–63a, 147 b. Nedarim 50a, 147 b. Soṭah 22a, 203 b. Qiddushin 49a, 203 b. Babaʾ Batraʾ 16a, 109 b. Babaʾ Metziʿaʾ 33b, 203 b. Sanhedrin 51a, 11–12, 257 n.37 b. ʿAvodah Zarah 20a, 147 b. Zevaḥim 98b, 248–49 n.55 b. Menaḥot 29a, 110 b. Menaḥot 29b, 108, 117, 178–80 b. Ḥullin 22a, 236 n.10 b. Ḥullin 72a, 279 n.70

Pesiqta Rabbati §5, 182

Megillat Taʿanit Megillat Taʿanit, 185, 271 n.7

ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan

ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan A 3, 145 ʾAvot de Rabbi Natan A 6, 114, 117

Midrash Rabbah Genesis Rabbah 1.11, 144–45 Genesis Rabbah 1.14, 11, 261 n.29 Genesis Rabbah 68.12, 267 n.52

303

Leqaḥ Ṭov Leqaḥ Ṭov 51a, 266 n.44

Dead Sea Scrolls 1QpHab (Pesher Habakkuk) 7.3–5, 165 1QS (Rule of the Community) 5.7–10, 184 1QS (Rule of the Community) 5.10–13, 164 1QS (Rule of the Community) 6.6–8, 184 4Q169 (Pesher Nahum) 2.7, 185 CD (Damascus Document) 1.18–19, 185 CD (Damascus Document) 3.12–14, 164 CD (Damascus Document) 5.2–4, 184 CD (Damascus Document) 7.18, 165 4Q271 (Damascus Document) 4 ii, 3–5, 185 4QMMT (Miqzat Maʿasei Torah), 2.11–3.1, 15 11QT (Temple Scroll) 56.3–4, 184 11QT (Temple Scroll) 56.20–21, 184

Philo On the Cherubim 57, 15 On the Migration of Abraham 35, 265 On Dreams 2.252, 166 On the Special Laws 1.200, 165 On the Special Laws 3.6, 165

Josephus Antiquities 13.10.6, 183 Contra Apion 2.204, 201

304 i n de x o f c l a s s ic a l s ou r c e s New Testament Matthew 15:2, 186 Mark 1:27, 183 Mark 7:8, 186 Romans 11:25–27, 166 1 Corinthians 7:30–31, 262 n.38 1 Corinthians 11:2, 186 1 Corinthians 11:23, 186 1 Corinthians 15:3, 186 1 Corinthians 15:51–55, 166 Galatians 1:14, 272 n.14 2 Thessalonians 2:15, 186, 272 n.16

Justin Martyr Dialogue with Trypho §68, 167

Dialogue with Trypho §77, 167 Dialogue with Trypho §92, 167

Clement of Alexandria Stromata 6.124–25, 167

Origen Commentary to Psalms (Preface), 167–68

Pseudo-Plutarch De Homero, 202

gener al Index

accusative particle: ʾet, 11–12, 16–20, 42, 100, 149–55; ʾotah, 19–20, 24, 59–62, 82–83, 100, 135; ʾoto, 19–20, 63 aḥar she-ribbah ha-katuv miʿeṭ (“after Scripture included, it excluded”), 40–48 Albeck, Chanoch 186, 188, 189, 190, 277 n.52 Alexander, Elizabeth Shanks, 202 Apothaker, Howard L., 2–3, 18, 239 n.42, 248 n.51 Aune, David, 161, 164, 167

exegetical opacity, 82, 85–87

Baitner, Hillel, 48 Baraita of Thirteen Middot, 97 Baumgarten, Albert, 201 Baumgarten, Joseph, 185 Beard, Mary, 202 Bockmuehl, Markus, 178, 181, 270 n.93 Boyarin, Daniel, 207, 250 n.7 Brody, Sam, 188 Brownlee, William H., 179

Gafni, Isaiah, 157 gloss, nature of, 15–16 Goldberg, Avraham, 200 Goldin, Judah, 141 Goshen-Gottstein, Alon, 142, 156 Green, William Scott, 141, 177

camouflage, hermeneutic of, 72, 100, 140, 205, 283 n.104 Collins, John, 163 correspondence opacity, 82–85 din, 49–50, 63–67, 72, 100, 106, 117, 132, 138, 199, 206, 278 n. 63 discontinuity, semantic, 31–40, 52, 54–59, 84, 87–90, 100, 206 divre soferim (“words of the scribes”), 120, 138–40, 192, 201, 204 ʾein dorshin teḥilot (“preliminary statements are not interpreted”), 10–11 ʾein li ʾelah (“I know only”), 18, 28–31, 34–35, 39, 48, 55–61, 69, 95–96, 99, 128, 136 ʾeino tzarikh (“it is not necessary”), 243 n.33 Elbaum, Yaakov, 115 Epstein, Yaakov Nahum, 1, 12, 78, 85, 189, 200

Finkelstein, Louis, 2, 142, 153, 155, 197 Fisch, Menachem, 123 Fishbane, Michael, 179 fort-da derashot, 30, 54, 56 Fraade, Steven, 184 Frankfurter, David, 202 Friedman, Shamma, 2, 148, 149 Furstenberg, Yair, 171, 172

Hadas-Lebel, Mireille, 175 ha-katuv, 41–44, 47, 48–53, 130, 138, 204–5 Halbertal, Moshe, 17, 172 Halivni, David Weiss, 187, 188, 190 Harari, Yuval, 173 hermeneutic markedness, 10–11, 16, 23–25, 31, 32, 68, 97, 100, 136, 205 Heschel, Abraham Joshua, 103, 138 Hirshman, Marc, 1 Hochstein, Avital Campbell, 18 Hoffmann, David Zvi, 1, 73, 171, 189, 200, 275 n.33 ʾim ken lammah neʾemar (“if so, why is this stated”), 67–68, 71, 205, 243 n.31 ʾish ʾish, 23, 24, 26, 32, 33, 34, 36, 37, 68, 69, 98, 119, 120, 132, 133, 138, 210 Kahana, Menahem, 1, 115, 116, 117, 169, 173, 208, 209, 250 n.4, 266 n.43 kelal u-feraṭ (“a general statement followed by a particular instance”), 28, 128

306

g e n e r a l i n de x

ketav, 110, 111, 112, 113 khol, 28, 84, 94, 95, 136, 137 Kister, Menahem, 117, 175, 185 kol, 18, 23, 28, 29, 37, 39, 76, 93, 95, 96, 98, 109, 128, 136, 137, 204, 208 Kristianpoller, Alexander, 174 Kuhn, Thomas, 193, 194, 195 “laundry list” derashot, 36, 90, 98 lectio difficilior, 96, 262 n.44 lehafsiq ha-ʿinyan (“divide the account”), 10–11 lehaviʾ (“to introduce”), 4, 23, 98, 128, 136 lehotziʾ (“to preclude”), 4, 107 mah ʾani meqayyem (“what meaning do I establish”), 67, 69–71, 205 mah talmud lomar (“what is the instruction”), 67–68, 131–32, 240 n.46, 205 Malbim (Meir Leibush ben Jehiel Michel Weiser), 2, 18–20, 187, 273–74 n.21 Melammed, Ezra Zion, 74, 85 mem, 120, 134, 144–45 miʿet ha-katuv (“Scripture excluded”), 46– 51, 71–72, 278 n.63 mikan ʾamru (“on the basis of this they stated”), 7, 73–88, 100, 205–6, 244 n.9, 245 n.13, 274–75 n.32 Milgrom, Jacob, 4 minayin (“whence”), 4, 27, 46, 53, 55–57, 59–62, 72, 122, 129, 206 mishem (“in the name of”), 138–39, 140 miʿuṭ (“exclusion”), 4, 26, 37–39, 43–46, 48, 50–52, 59–62, 66–67, 91–92, 100, 120, 205–6, 238 n.23, 239 n.42 Naeh, Shlomo, 108–10, 113, 232 n.13, 250 n.7, 251 n.23, 254 n.10, 282 n.104 Najman, Hindy, 201 nefesh, 24, 38–40, 99, 134 Neubauer, Yekutiel, 189–90 Neusner, Jacob, 2, 232 n.21, 249 n.61 Nitzan, Bilhah, 165 Novakovic, Lidia, 175 Novick, Tzvi, 1, 136, 255 n.17, 257 n.34, 277 n.53 pronouns, 12, 21–23, 37; hiʾ (“she”), 11, 22, 24–25, 37–38, 40, 60, 91–92, 135; huʾ (“he”), 21–23, 42–44, 100, 120, 134–35, 138, 205 pseudo-Rabad, 2, 14, 237 n.12, 237 n.15 pseudo-Sens, 2, 26–27

Rabbenu Hillel, 2, 14 Reichman, Ronen, 186, 272–73 n.19 ribbah ha-katuv (“Scripture included”), 46– 51, 71–72, 278 n.63 ribbui (“inclusion”), 4, 11, 18, 26–27, 31–52, 59–62, 91–100, 120, 123, 128–29, 133, 135– 37, 205–6 ribbui aḥar ribbui (“an inclusion following an inclusion”), 250–51 n.11 Rosen-Zvi, Yishai, 1, 120 Rowland, Christopher, 170 Rubenstein, Jeffrey, 110 Safrai, Chana, 18 Safrai, Shmuel, 142–43, 174 Sagiv, Jonathan, 3, 31, 254 n.14 Schäfer, Peter, 176 Schofer, Jonathan, 114 Scholem, Gerschom, 176 Schremer, Adiel, 141, 157, 184 Schwartz, Daniel, 207, 208 Serfaty, Vidal, 2, 90, 237 n.16, 238 n.24 Shemesh, Aharon, 169, 266 n.44, 279–80 n.77 shomeʿa ʾani (“I might understand”), 4, 53– 55, 195 Stemberger, Günter, 234 n.17 ṭaʿam (“justification”), 115–17, 253 n.48 talmud lomar (“Scripture teaches, stating”), 4, 27, 45–46, 53–62, 71–72, 205–26, 278 n.63 taqanot (“decrees”), 138 tautological derashot, 14–16, 27–29, 100, 235 n.35 Tchernowitz, Chaim (“Rav Tzaʿir”), 9 Torjesen, Karen Jo, 168 tzerikhutaʾ (“interpretive necessity”), 30–31 Urbach, Ephraim E., 175–76, 187, 190–91, 196, 200, 207, 276 nn. 41–42 vacuity, midrashic, 27–29, 51, 72, 88, 100, 206 Werman, Cana, 169, 185, 266 n.44, 274 n.27, 279–80 n.77 Yadin, Yigael, 184 yakhol (“might it be”), 4, 46, 53–61, 62, 67– 68, 72, 84, 129, 206 Zellentin, Julia, 174

Acknowledgments

After many years of work, it is with great joy that I thank colleagues and friends who have contributed to the completion of this book. First off, my colleagues in the Jewish Studies Department at Rutgers: Gary Rendsburg, Yael Zerubavel, Jeffrey Shandler, Nancy Sinkoff, Paola Tartakoff, and Jonathan Gribetz have provided continued intellectual support and warm camaraderie. Gary, in particular, has been a wonderful partner in our shared enthusiasm for ancient languages and texts. I also owe a debt of gratitude to the departmental staff for their ongoing efforts: Arlene Goldstein, Sherry Endick, Jodie Marcou, and Karen Small. Josh Jeffreys provided superlative editorial assistance, and Josh Blachorsky was instrumental in collecting the sources for the Hebrew appendix. Thanks also to the broader Rutgers community, especially the Department of Classics, of which I have been a member since autumn 2013. I am grateful to all the scholars who responded to my presentations at the annual conferences of the Association for Jewish Studies, the Society for Biblical Literature, the Enoch Seminar, and the American Academy of Religion, to name a few. Their comments and critiques helped me articulate my argument more clearly. Thanks also to the individuals and institutions that extended lecture invitations. They include the Boalt Law School at the University of California, Berkeley; UCLA’s Nazarian Center; Yale’s Workshop on Ancient Judaism; Yad Ben-Zvi; the University of Illinois, UrbanaChampaign; Cardozo Law School; Northwestern University; the University of Kansas; and Pennsylvania State University. I want to single out for thanks Elizabeth Alexander and the students in her midrash seminar at the University of Virginia, who read Scripture as Logos and an earlier version of the present work and invited me to campus to discuss them in spring 2013. Earlier versions of some of the book’s arguments have been published in other forums. Chapter 9’s discussion of semantic incommensurability appeared in “Qabbalah, Deuter­ōsis, and Semantic Incommensurability: A Preliminary

308

Ack now l edgmen ts

Study,” in Raʿanan Boustan, Klaus Hermann, Reimund Leicht, et al. (eds.), Envisioning Judaism: Studies in Honor of Peter Schäfer on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013); an earlier version of Chapter 7 was published as “Rabbi Akiva’s Youth,” in Jewish Quarterly Review 100 (2010); and a preliminary synthesis of the strands that run through this book was published as “Rabbi Aqiva and the Site of Revelation,” in Moulie Vidas and Philippa Townsend (eds.), Revelation, Literature, and Community in Late Antiquity (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 177–216. I want to acknowledge the incisive comments I received from Annette Yoshiko Reed (“Qabbalah, Deuterōsis, and Semantic Incommensurability”), Jeffrey Rubenstein and Ishay Rosen-Zvi (“Rabbi Akiva’s Youth”), and Moulie Vidas (“Rabbi Aqiva and the Site of Revelation”)—each helped me clarify my thinking regarding key issues in these articles. Mira Balberg, Tzvi Novick, and Ishay Rosen-Zvi all read the entire manuscript at a critical juncture in the writing process. I am very grateful to them for their keen comments and helpful suggestions, many of which I have incorporated. Rabbi Howard Apothaker, who is currently translating the Sifra into English, generously took the time to read and comment on the manuscript. At a later stage, Daniel Boyarin read the manuscript and offered typically insightful comments. The errors that remain, despite the best efforts of these readers, fall on my shoulders alone. This book is the culmination of a project I embarked upon while at Berkeley, and I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge my continued appreciation and gratitude for all that I learned from the scholars there, especially Robert Alter, David Biale, Chana Kronfeld, and Daniel Boyarin. Finally and most importantly, thanks and blessings to my friends and family. To my beer buddies, Yossi and Ady; to Abe; to Jeff Pusar, whose care and empathy have been instrumental in the completion of this work and in much more besides; to my in-laws, David, Aharona, and Keren Surowitz, for their help and generosity; to Hallel, Daniel, and Kerem, who are now old enough to understand what it means to write a book; and to Elah, who will one day understand. And to Hilit, my love.