Rabbinic Authority in Jewish Thought

I had the honor of speaking on Shavuot night and ever so often, when you speak publicly, new ideas come to mind either as a product of questions asked, or the need to clarify the connection between seemingly disparate concepts, so I wanted to share these thoughts now on the topic of authority, and the democratization of decision making from a Jewish lens. 

The text case that I looked at was a famous one (Berachot 27:28.), the temporary dismissal of Raban Gamliel, the previously undisputed leader, head of the Sanhedrin and from the Davidic line, and the great-great grandson of Hillel the Elder. 

The incident took place in Yavneh, which you will recall was the one place that Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai had sought when bargaining with the Roman Emperor Vespasian; he chose the elders, and the ability to reconvene a Sanhedrin instead of the Beit Hamikdash, he chose the human minds and hearts over a place that has lost its efficacy as a resting place for God almighty. And this Yavneh would become the place where Rabban Gamliel was tasked with re-forming, and regrouping the Jewish people, the last holdout where law could be codified, principles instituted and stamped out for posterity, and it was at this precise place where Rabban Gamliel, who was the head of the Sanhedrin, would lock horns with the Av Beit Din, head of Jewish courts, Rabbi Yehoshua, his superior in age and likely, wisdom as well. 

And the two did not have an easy relationship; there had been two previous incidents in which Rabban Gamliel had publicly demeaned Rabbi Yehoshua. 

The first was when Rabbi Yehoshua had to present himself to Rabban Gamliel with staff and purse on the day he believed was Yom Kippur.

The second: a Cohen, Rabbi Tzadok, had an animal which was a firstborn which accidentally became blemished; the law was that whenever an animal belonging to a Cohen became blemished it was necessary to attest to the fact that it had not been done intentionally because otherwise, rather than give the firstborn to a Cohen, one would see to it that his animal became blemished so he would be exempt from giving it to the Cohen. Rabbi Tzadok asked Rabbi Yehoshua if he, as an upright Jew of the highest standing, a chaver, literally a friend, needed also to bring witnesses to the fact that he had no hand in harming his animal. When Rabbi Yehoshua said no, Rabbi Tzadok ultimately apprised Rabban Gamliel of the ruling, which led the latter to call Rabbi Yehoshua out for it and make him stand for the duration of the lecture. 

Things came to a head though in a similar story in Brachot, one that was the straw that broke the camel's back, where the members of the Beit Midrash up in arms, told the meturgeman, Rabban Gamliel's speaker to cease lecturing after he had similarly demeaned Rabbi Yehoshua, making him stand whilst the former continued lecturing. 

One of the dramatic changes that was precipitated as a result was that for the first time, the idea became implanted that a meritocracy based on sensitivity for the other would be put in place. Rabbi Elazar far younger in years, merely 18 became the deciding voice of the Jewish people. Rabban Gamliel had to humble himself and go to the home of Rabbi Yehoshua where he asked for forgiveness, only to be denied and chastised for his obliviousness for the plight of scholars and their meager and humble needs, both physically, and likely metaphorically as well. 

And perhaps the biggest change that came out of the whole story was the sheer number of students who were allowed in to the Beit Midrash, house of learning for all, after Rabban Gamliel had been deposed. His draconian approach was not fitting for the masses, and his conception that an elitist approach would ensure the survival of the Jewish people was proven patently and blatently false. 

A new sun had risen, with a second force, namely Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, whose youthfulness, age, and perspicacity would lead a nation, followed by Rabbi Akiva, whose self-sacrifice and high-standard for brotherly love galvanized a nation, his dying words seared in the hearts of every Jew: "Shema Yisrael." 

It was the end of a period of hubris, not one that was sought for its own sake, but which was mistakely conceived as the only way to preserve the Davidic line and authority, but at the end of the day, it was the values that King David stood for that would be the harbinger of our people's eternal survival.