279) A BABYLONIAN CONTEXT TO THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD:

Rabbi Professor Yaakov Elman (1943-2018) who specialised in Talmudo-Iranica.

Babylonian Influences on the Talmud Bavli. Part V.

INTRODUCTION:

Rabbi Professor Yaakov Elman (1943-2018) of Yeshiva University was a pioneer in the research of Babylonian (i.e., Iranian/Sasanian/Persian/Zoroastrian)[1] influence on, and context to the Babylonian Talmud.

In this article (part 5 in the series) we will continue to look at some of this Babylonian context and culture which is critical for an understanding of the milieu in which the Babylonian Talmud was developed. I have drawn from the research of Rabbi Yaakov Elman’s student, Professor Shai Secunda, a graduate of Yeshiva Ner Yisrael in Baltimore and now a highly respected academic.[2]

THE CONTEXT BEHIND THE TEXT:

Secunda writes about his teacher Rabbi Elman:

“[S]ince the turn of the century Yaakov Elman has been instrumental in establishing an important subfield of Jewish studies that has come to be known as Talmudo-Iranica. Elman has produced cutting-edge research that hones in on the Talmud’s Iranian context, and he has encouraged Talmudists to study Iranian languages (mainly Middle Persian) and forge contacts with Iranists so that they might read the Babylonian Talmud contextually...”

This understanding of general Babylonian culture and language is important because:

“...when it comes to research on rabbinic law and its interaction with Zoroastrian ritual...laws are studied against specific Zoroastrian parallels in order to account for their development.”

HOW THE ZOROASTRIANS READ THEIR TEXTS:

Bear in mind that Zoroastrianism, the religion of the Babylonians, is considered to be a very ancient form of monotheism with many beliefs compatible with Judaism. Babylonian Jews were more comfortable with the neighbouring religion of Zoroastrianism than with Paganism, Christianity and later Islam. 

In Sasanian Iran, however, scriptures were not the Bible or Tanach but instead the Avesta.

Around the year 200 CE, with the emergence of the Babylonian Talmud, Zoroastrian hermeneutics or scriptural interpretation had already been ongoing for some centuries by elite Babylonian scholars.

Many would not expect to find detailed parallels and similar styles in Avestan hermeneutic (i.e., interpretive[3]) literature and learning methodologies to that of the Babylonian Talmud. Yet, as we shall see, many ideas and even institutionalized methodologies of study and belief often overlapped rather overtly.

We know that Halachic concepts were first part of an oral tradition before they became crystallized in written form during (or after – see  When was the Talmud Written Down? ) Talmudic times.

Secunda explains that the Avesta also started out as an oral tradition:

“The Avesta was transmitted orally from the moment of its inception in two basic modes: the first, prior to crystallization, consisted of a series of ‘recomposed performances’ by avestan poets, and the second, following crystallization, employed a rigid technology of memorization and transmission.”

These two Avestan transmission processes took place through the medium of two different languages, Old Avestan and Young Avestan.

In Judaism the oral transmission took place through the use of Hebrew (up to and including Mishnaic times, 0-200 CE) and then transitioned to Aramaic, the language spoken in Babylonia (during Gemara or Talmudic times, 200-500 CE). Often, in the Talmud, a phrase from the older Hebrew Mishnaic version is used as a starting point for lengthy Halachic discussion and inquiry.

In Avestan hermeneutics we see a similar process where an Old Avestan text is used as a basis for interpretation, re-interpretation and elucidation in Young Avestan texts.

THE VIDEVDAD:

The Avesta had sections dealing with ritual purity called the Videvdad.  This is paralleled in the Talmud with sections also dealing with purity.

R. Elman reminds us of the Babylonian Talmud’s teaching that according to R. Zeira, the:

“daughters of Israel had undertaken to be so strict with themselves as to wait for seven [clean] days...[although biblically they are required only to separate for seven days from the onset of menstruation].”[4]

Also:

“It is clear from Niddah (fol. 66a) that this stringency was a popular practice and not a rabbinic prohibition, probably in response to a ‘holier than thou’ attitude perceived by the populace as emanating from their Persian neighbors. It seems that Babylonian Jewish women had internalized their Zoroastrian neighbors’ critique of Rabbinic Judaism’s relatively ‘easy-going’ ways in this regard...” [5]

According to this, stringencies in the Jewish laws of menstrual impurity resulted in longer periods of abstinence, and it was all based on not wishing to appear as being ‘less holy’ than their Babylonian counterparts:

“This indicates just how much the values of the surrounding culture had been internalised into the Jewish value system.”[6]

TEXTUAL EXPANSIONS:

Additionally, Young Avestan texts also introduced a form of interpretative textual expansion similar to what was known to Judaism as Midrash. In this style of hermeneutics, the basic text was often elaborated and expounded upon beyond recognition.

THE HERBEDESTAN:

A Young Avestan work known as the Herbedestan deals with religious learning and discusses matters such as what type of teacher one should pursue, how far one should travel to find such a teacher, and what type of student a teacher may accept.

This work emphasises the importance of memorizing the liturgical texts and teaches that it is a sin to not study when one is able to; and so is forgetting the literature which one has studied. These ideas and values are paralleled in Talmudic literature as well.

THE TANNA AND THE MAGUS[7] TEACH BUT DO NOT KNOW WHAT THEY ARE SAYING:

There is a fascinating Talmudic text which compares the Tanna (a term which in this case refers to Amoraic reciters of  Mishaniac material) to Zoroastrian magi (priests and scholars):

“[Just as Magi] murmur their teachings yet do not understand them – so too the Tanna teaches (the Mishna) but does not know what he is saying.”[8]

This implies that that in both literatures some teachers were so concerned with the transmission of the texts that they simply repeated them without necessarily understanding them.

SERVING THE SAGES:

The students of the Zoroastrian scholars would follow their teachers around continually and serve and observe them.

There is a parallel Talmudic text which states:

“Who is a conniving wicked person (rasha arum)?... Ulla says: Someone who read (the Torah) and learned (the Mishna) but did not serve Torah scholars.“[9]

COMMENTARY STRUCTURE:

The Avesta came with the Zand which was a commentary and explanation of the primary Avestan text. The Zand served three purposes: a) to act as a translation of the Old Avesta into the Young Avesta (or Middle Persian) language,  b) to serve as a commentary, and c) to include legal derivations from the text.

The Zand would identify difficulties in the Avesta and then as Secunda says:

“...cite debates between authorities about related matters in collections of teachings”

This is again very similar in style to the debates in the Babylonian Talmud. Hence, the Zand - also composed during Sasanian times - corresponds to the methodology of Talmudic literature of the same time period.

MOVING THEIR HEADS RYTHMICALLY:

A Zoroastrian text speaks about students who would move their heads rhythmically back and forth while studying these texts and commentaries. This practice, as we know, is also well-entrenched within Judaism.

MAGI AND RABBIS DEBATING WITH HERETICS:

Sasanian Iran had some intense battles over the correct interpretation of the Avesta. This threatened the existing power structures and divided the Babylonian public into orthodox believers and heretics. Certain factions were creating new interpretations (i.e., new Zands) of the Avesta.

In some cases these new commentaries or Zands were so controversial that the magi[10] or Zoroastrian priests were requested to keep the Zands away from the public.

WHO OWNS THE PSHAT?

The interpretive battles often rose over the ‘exact’, ‘simple’ or ‘plain’ meaning of the primary source. The various sides of believers and heretics each claimed to know with definity the true meaning and intent of the original source.  Opposing camps emerged with the ‘orthodox’ Zoroastrians on the one side and ‘renegade exegetes’ on the other.

Amazingly, the Babylonian Talmud records a similar struggle and there is some considerable literature involving rabbinic sages debating with Jewish heretics or minim over Biblical interpretation and its correct pshat or exact meaning.

OMNISIGNIFICANCE:

Secunda draws our attention to the fascinating idea that it was primarily Zoroastrian magi and Jewish rabbis who believed in the ‘omnisignificance’[11] of their primary texts.

Omnisignificance means that everything is contained and alluded to within the wording of the primary text, whether the Torah or, in the case of Zoroastrians, the Avesta. This allows for multiple authoritative interpretations of the original wording because the entire universe is said to be contained within them. The text is not just words but becomes infinitely dense with meaning and significance. Words are no longer a part of writing style and certainly aren’t used by chance.

This omnisignificance allows for legal interpretative positions to be taken based on deductions from the minutia of words and letters.

Secunda writes:

“Other interpretative communities [besides those of the rabbis and Zoroastrians] employed various hermeneutical tools when interpreting texts that they perceived as sacred and thus semiotically [defined as the interpretation of words] [12] dense. Yet most of these did not go the way of halakhic midrash and the Zand.”

Thus the rabbis and magi were unique in their use of the principle of omnisignificance when it came to their primary sacred texts.

THE REACH OF OMNISIGNIFICANCE:

Rabbi Yaakov Elman (the pioneer of Babylonian studies with the intent to understand the context of the Babylonian Talmud) wrote that the term ‘omnisignificance’ is essentially only a marker for an exegetical programme that remained a goal but was never actually realized.

If I understand Elman correctly, he is saying that the notion of omnisignificance remains essentially an idea that lends great importance to the meaning of words in primary texts, but is impossible to actually implement practically.  Consider, for example, sections of primary Torah text where entire paragraphs describing journeys or events are often repeated at great length – yet the commentaries are silent on the omnisignificance of these repeated sections. 

They may explain why, in principle, it was necessary for the text to repeat itself - but remain silent on the exact details of every nuance of every detail of every repetition. In other words, one word, sentence or paragraph can be exploited interpretatively but it is difficult to do so the second time to a similar extent in the verbatim replication. This can be seen by just paging through a Chumash.  Wherever there is a repetition, sometimes even pages long, the commentary section is very much reduced.

THE CAVEAT:        

This general notion of omnisignificance, however, brings with it an important historical caveat or proviso.

Secunda explains that based on a study of earlier rabbinic sources:

“[O]mnisignificant legal exegesis is very much present in Palestinian [not Babylonian!][13] rabbinic texts prior to the intense encounter between Jews and Zorosatrians that took place in Mesopotamia.”

In other words, this concept of omnisignificance already existed amongst the earlier rabbis of Eretz Yisrael before they went into exile in Babylonia. Thus one cannot say that magi or the Babylonian interpretative culture influenced rabbinic culture when it came to ascribing omnisignificance to Jewish sacred texts.

This is a fascinating point because it shows that the reality on the ground in Babylonia during Talmudic times was one of give and take. Both Jewish and Zoroastrian intellectual communities had an influence on each other and at times borrowed certain cultural authorities from each other.  Although it is possible that both cultures simply and naturally subscribed to the atypical idea of omnisignificance (and that it is nothing more than coincidence) it seems more likely that this is an example of rabbinic influence on Zoroastrianism. 

This is especially so because the belief in the omnisignificant value of the Avesta only came to Babylonian society during the late Sasanian period, which corresponds directly to the Talmudic period. The rabbis, however, were discussing omnisignificance centuries earlier.

Interestingly, Yaakov Elman points out that Rava (or Abba ben Yosef bar Chama, 280-352 CE) a key figure at the confluence of Babylonian and rabbinic cultures, was particularly concerned about ‘managing’[14] this growing trend of placing too much weight on the principle of omnisignificance.

Secunda concludes:

“What this means in the current discussion is that the fact that omnisignificant modes of reading were an important aspect of Sasanian reading strategies is significant for appreciating their resonance in the Bavli.”

In other words, Secunda (if I understand him correctly) is saying that yes, the Palestinian rabbis were the first to discuss omnisignificance and may have influenced the Babylonians in this regard. But once it became a popular Babylonian concept it became even more popular within Judaism, to the extent that Rava had to ‘manage’ the overuse of this concept.

Either way, the mutual influence and re-influence of hermeneutical enterprises between Babylonian magi and Talmudic rabbis remains a fascinating avenue for further exploration.

After all, the Bavli is called the Babylonian Talmud.

ANALYSIS:

The academic and even religious culture of Babylonia played no small part in the shaping and development of the Babylonian Talmud. The two literary cultures were strongly intermeshed to the extent that sometimes we are not sure just who was influencing who. It is possible that rabbis contributed and introduced the notion of omnisignificance to the Sasanian worldview. And, in turn, the vibrant hierarchies of demonology and angelology were certainly a strong Babylonian influence on the Bavli.

The Talmud Bavli has indeed become the very symbol of religious Judaism.  We have even developed a proudly yet known to be incorrect style of reading Talmudic Aramaic, which is called ‘yeshivishe shprach’ or yeshiva language.

Yet there have always been those like Rambam who considered studying the Babylonian Talmud - which has become a staple of the Torah world - to be unnecessary in the aftermath of his Mishna Torah (the Halachic summary of the Bavli which excludes much of the cultural Babylonian content).

Other rabbis emphasised the study of the Yerushalmi, or Jerusalem Talmud over the Bavli, and this has gained traction within some factions in modern Israel today.

Some rabbis like Rav Kook even developed quite outspoken opposition positions to the central role the Babylonian Talmud played within Judaism. Some of these views can be seen in Rav Kook on: What if I Don’t Like Studying Gemara?

But - at the end of the day - the mainstream view is very much centred around and defined almost exclusively by the Babylonian Talmud.

FURTHER READING:

[Babylonian Influences on the Babylonian Talmud.]

[Revenge of the Talmud Yerushalmi.]

[Astrology – Ignored by the Yerushalmi, Embraced by the Bavli.]

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[1] Iran (Babylonia) was under Sasanian rule around the time of the development of the Babylonian Talmud. The Sasanian Empire was the last Persian dynasty to rule before the arrival of Islam. The main religion was Zoroastrianism. Hence, the terms Babylonian /Iranian/ Persian/ Sasanian/Mesopotamian and Zoroastrian will be used interchangeably in this article.

[2] Shai Secunda, Rabbinic and Zoroastrian Hermeneutics; Background and Prospects.

[3] Hermeneutics is defined as the interpretive literature and commentary based on a primary scriptural text.

[4]  Berachot 31a, Megilla 28b and Nidda 66a.

[5] See: Young Rabbis and all about Olives by Professor Marc B. Shapiro of The Seforim Blog, where he quotes R. Elman as sourced from Encyclopedia Iranica (RABBINIC LITERATURE and MIDDLE PERSIAN TEXTS).

[6] See Babylonian Influences on the Babylonian Talmud.

[7] Magus (Zoroastrian priest) is singular for magi.

[8] Sotah 22a.

[9] Sotah 21b and 22a.

[10] Magi (Zoroastrian priests) is the plural form of magus (one priest).

[11] A term coined by James Kugel.

[12] Parentheses mine.

[13] Parenthesis mine.

[14] Rava debated Abaye on many Halachic issues and the law follows Rava over Abaye in all but six cases. One of the reasons why Rava’s opinion is usually adhered to is because he was more practical that Abaye, his more theoretical opponent.

278) ETHICS AND ETIQUETTE FOR THE SCHOLARLY CLASS – THEN AND NOW:

INTRODUCTION:

How does one define and describe a Talmudic sage?

It’s not so easy because the Talmudic Period spanned about 500 years, two geographical regions (Palestine and Babylonia) and incorporated about one thousand Tanaim (sages from the Mishnaic Period, 10 -220 CE) and Amoraim (Sages from the Gemara Period, 220 - 500 CE).[1]

However, from various Talmudic works dealing specifically with expected codes of ethical behaviour for rabbis, we can certainly get some idea of what the Talmudic man was supposed to be.

In this article, I have again drawn from Rabbi Professor Daniel Sperber, a Talmud professor at Bar Ilan University who has researched the neglected topic of the development and evolution of rabbinical ethics.

ETHICAL CODES:

Alongside the ubiquitous Talmudic discussion, a secondary literature emerged which detailed the required social and ethical behaviour for rabbis.

Certain external signs were required to distinguish the rabbi from the ordinary population.

Sperber writes:

“His headgear was different; so were his robes, his cleanliness and general comportment, his manner of speech and dress, and so on.”

FORMALIZED DEVELOPMENT OF ETHICAL CODES:

This information is scattered in a typically haphazard fashion throughout Talmudic literature, particularly in Braitot (parallel texts from the Mishnaic Period which were not considered as authoritative as those which were to form part of the official canon of the Mishna). In the post-Talmudic Period, some ‘mini tractates’ known as ‘Perakim’ or chapters began to emerge. At first these Perakim, such as Perek Talmidei Chachamim, simply collated some of these earlier Braitot - and later, by the time of the Rishonim (1038-1500), these had developed into more comprehensive works and were well incorporated into Halachot Gedolot (from the earlier Gaonic period) and Machzor Vitry by a student of Rashi.

EVOLUTION AND TRANSFORMATION OF ETHICAL CODES:

Sperber describes the evolutionary nature of this, now a well-established, genre of rabbinical ethical writings:

 “[E]ach passage evolved, was modified, at time even underwent radical transformation, as it was fitted into its new context. Such analyses are studies not merely in literary history, but also in the ever-changing history of Jewish etiquette and manners, a subject that has elicited scant scholarly attention...”

Sperber discusses the intricate editorial process some of these ethical writings were to undergo:

“The editorial process to which the original [Talmudic][2] sources were subjected in the course of their transitions, first being incorporated into ‘mini tractates’ (peraqim) and then to the more standard-size tractates (massekhtot), and subsequently being assimilated into the medieval genre of ethical literature, is both complex and enlightening.”

EXAMPLE 1:

DERECH ERETZ ZEIRA:

What follows is an example of a reworked text found in an ethical manual entitled Derech Eretz Zeira[3]:

“Five are [the rules concerning invitation to a gathering or a meeting]: A person should always know with whom he is standing, with whom he is sitting, with whom he is dining, with whom he is conversing, and with whom he is signing his documents.”

This text is based on an early Tannaic source from Second Temple times (i.e., before 70 CE) entitled Mechilta deKaspa[4], which deals with (two) customs of the Jerusalem aristocracy:

“Such was the conduct of the pure-minded (Neqiyyei ha-da’at) [i.e., the scholarly elite][5]...in Jerusalem: none of them would go to...a banquet unless he knew who would be there with him, and none of them would sign [a] document...unless he knew who would sign with him.” 

One can see how this original and shorter text (with two customs) was later reworked and expanded upon in Derech Eretz Zeira (to five customs).

Then, in a slightly later text than Mechilta deKaspa, this time from the Talmud[6] we see another version (with three customs):

“Such was the conduct of the pure-minded people in Jerusalem: they would not sign a document unless they knew who would sign with them, neither would they sit in judgement unless they knew who would sit with them, nor would they go in to a banquet unless they knew who would be dining with them.”

INVITATIONS AND BANQUETS:

Sperber cites a source that explains that these ‘pure-minded’ scholars of Jerusalem would not attend a banquet unless the invitation was extended again on the very day the function was to occur. This was based on an Egyptian custom. After being ‘re-invited’ on the day itself, they would show that they were ‘booked’ for the occasion by dressing up. This way they would not disappoint anyone else who wanted to invite them for another function at the same time. Also, the host would write out the menu on embroidered napkins hanging on his gate so as to ensure the food was acceptable to the guests. The guests could arrive and enter anytime that the napkins were still hanging on the gate.

DRINKING ETIQUETTE:

This group of scholarly elite had some interesting drinking habits as well. They would not drink from the portion of the cup opposite the handle, as most people do, but they drank from close to the handle.[7]

TAKING OUT THE TORAH:

They had another custom too:

“This was the custom of the pure-minded of Jerusalem: when they took the Torah out and returned it, they would walk after it to honor it.”[8]

KNOW YOUR BOOK COMPANION:

Since manuscripts were rare and expensive, the scholars would often have to share from the same book. Hence a need was created to ensure that the elite also ‘knew’ the suitability of ‘their book companions’.

REACTION TO SCHOLARLY ELITISM:

Not everyone was happy with this culture of rabbinic elitism that was beginning to emerge. The Talmud[9] records the following statement in the name of Rav:

“The people of Jerusalem were obscene...A man would say to his neighbour; ‘On what did you dine today? On what sort of bread...on what sort of wine...? On a wide couch or a narrow couch. In good company or bad?”

However, this type of criticism was rare and the elitist scholarly culture was allowed to foster. We even see that R. Yehudah haNasi would not open his storehouses to non-scholars during periods of famine. [See Historic Rabbinic Responses to Pestilence.]

EXAMPLE 2:

ANOTHER TEXT FROM DERECH ERETZ ZEIRA:

Here is another text from Derech Eretz Zeira:[10]

“Four things are not befitting to a scholar: he should not stay out on the road at night; he should not go to the market [while he is][11] reeking of fragrance; he should not be the last to enter the synagogue; and he should not keep company with the ignorant.”

STAYING OUT ON THE ROAD AT NIGHT:

Focusing on the first ethical teaching suggesting that scholars do not stay out on the road at night, we notice that this is dealt with in a number of places in Talmudic literature:

DEMONS:

A Beraita teaches that the reason has to do with what it refers to as ‘demons’[12]:

“We should not go out alone at night, not on a Wednesday night nor on Shabbat night, because [the demon] Aggerat daughter of Machlat is aboard with her eighteen [MS Munich, twelve] myriad malevolent angels. And each one of them is permitted to cause harm...

At first they used to roam about every day. However, once upon a time, R. Chanina ben Dosa [fl. ca. 40-80] met up with her, and she said to him: Were it not for the fact that in heaven they proclaim, ‘Beware of Chanina and his Torah [= learning],’ I would surely endanger your life.’

To which R. Chanina ben Dosa replied: ‘If indeed I be well regarded in heaven, I decree that never again may you pass through inhabited areas.’

She said: ‘Please [I beseech you – absent from in MS Munich], leave me some slight freedom [to indulge in my practices].’

So he left her Shabbat night and Wednesday nights.’”[13]

In a similar vein we read in another Talmudic text:

“’[And Jacob was left alone] and there wrestled a man with him until the break of day.’(Gen. 32:24). Said R. Yitzchak [fl. ca. 250-300]: ‘From here [it is that we learn] that a scholar should not go out alone at night.’...

R.Abahu said: From here. ‘And Avraham rose up early in the morning’. (Gen 22:3). [Rashi: ‘And not before morning, and even though he was not alone – how much more so, one who is alone.]”[14]

WILD ANIMALS AND HIGHWAY ROBBERS:

Sperber shows that the reason for a person not being out alone at night may have some more natural dangers which had to be avoided, such as wild animals. Additionally, there was also the danger of being attacked by highway robbers.

In certain areas in Babylonia, synagogues were built outside ‘in the field’, and people made sure not to return home alone at night (hence certain additions were added to the evening service to accommodate those arriving a little late).

This begs the question as to why - in the face of such well known and common natural dangers of the night - was it necessary to stress that a rabbinic scholar must beware of the demons? The answer is that while all people are equally susceptible to natural dangers it is specifically the rabbinic sage, due to his Torah knowledge, who is most liable to being confronted and attacked by demons.[15]

As Sperber put it:

“[T]he dangers of night on the open road for the scholar were, most probably, those that emanate from malevolent powers, and not merely the natural perils of the dark.”

One could add to this the well known mystical notion that the ‘forces of evil’ are wont to attack the ‘forces of good’.

A MORE NATURAL DANGER:

There is another reason why a scholar should not venture out at night and that has to do with an even more natural form of peril and is more directly related to ethics.

The Talmud states:

“And he [specifically the scholar] should not go out alone at night lest he come under suspicion of improper conduct (mishum chashada).”[16]

Rashi explains that this refers to zenut or unsuitable moral behaviour.

The Talmudic text thus continues to provide one exception to this rule:

“And when do we say this [that a scholar may not go out alone at night]? If he does not have a fixed time [for study], but if his time is fixed, he will be known to go to his appointment [ and not indulge in questionable nightlife].”

- Hence we have a wide array of reasons which were developed according to varying circumstances, as to why scholars should not go out on the road at night.

ANOTHER SUSPICION:

Sperber does not bring this case but there is another text which is also of interest:

“[Quoting the Beraita]: He may not go out perfumed to the marketplace...R. Yochanan said: [This prohibition only applies] in a place where they are suspected of homosexuality.

Rav Sheshet said: We only said this with regard to [perfume on] his clothing, but with regard to [perfume on] his body [it is permitted]...”[17]

ANALYSIS - THEN AND NOW:

At first the scholarly Talmudic class adopted many of the ethics of pre-destruction Jerusalem aristocracy. Then they adopted some of the exclusive ethics of Egyptian culture and simultaneously appropriated a number of Babylonian societal norms and even beliefs.[18]

As Sperber puts it:

“[W]e clearly have here an example of exclusivist ‘high-society’ etiquette becoming the hallmark of the almost certainly nonaristocratic scholar-rabbi.”

A new form of scholarly aristocracy had now replaced the historically elitist class.

And even within Babylonia itself, different regions had different customs as well as ethical guidelines (as we saw in the examples of preventing suspicions varying from zenut to homosexuality depending on localized trends). All these very different influences, etiquettes and societal systems merged over time into what was to become known as ‘rabbinical ethics’.

What is interesting is that these rabbinical ethics, pertaining to a relatively small scholarly elite, were later to become the standard - almost across the board - for the religious but less scholarly masses who were later to mimic practices and even dress like ‘scholars’.

Thus, fascinatingly, all the particularistic customs of the elitist rabbinical and scholarly class were - in principle and over time - to become the hallmarks for much of the mainstream religious community of the future.

Sperber writes that when these scholarly ethics and practices became ‘democratized’ and more widespread, a new problem had been created:

“Backgrounds are rejected, contexts altered, and the text itself modified accordingly...

 Apparently later writers felt it legitimate to draw upon the stock of ethical maxims, working them into their own particularized context.”

In other words, in an attempt at conformity, standards were eventually adopted which did not take into consideration the local needs and customs (as they had been when they were first innovated).

We have also seen how the original ethical texts developed according to the various beliefs and social tendencies of different cultures and how they were reworked and altered as those influences changed. 

Then, it seems, that at some point all further ethical development froze and henceforth an approach of ‘one size fits all forever’ was universally adopted.

However, the original style of adaptation and transformation of ethical norms was a good thing - as by definition - ethics should always be relevant to specific times and cultures for them to be meaningful (unless of course, they are harmful or against Torah values).

The problem is that today, anyone who wears clothing or appendaged items that visibly show  he or she is a religious Jew or Jewess must remember that they are deemed by the public to be of the ‘scholarly religious class.’ Hence a de facto set of ethics is expected of them whether they are aware of it or not.

All Jews who are ‘scholars’ - or at least perceived by the general public to be so because they stand out by their dress and behaviour - automatically and immediately represent the religious community. 

They need to be aware that in essence, ethics are relative not just to them but also to the culture in which they find themselves. And when it comes to ethics, that outside culture - as we have seen - is in many ways is the final arbiter of what constitutes ethical behaviour.

For Torah ethics to be effective, all people who are seen to represent Judaism need to remember that they are not the only ones defining the societal parameters of acceptable ethical behaviour.

In the final analysis, ethical behaviour or Kidush haShem - whether we agree or not - is not only defined by us; but is the unwritten language, common denominator, partnership and contract between all human beings.

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[1] Of that 1000, about 120 were Tanaim.

[2] Parenthesis mine.

[3] Derech Eretz Zeira, 5:2.  Derech Eretz Zeira is a small Talmudic tractate embedded within Derech Eretz Zutra. It deals with the norms of rabbinic etiquette.

[4] Mechilta deKaspa, Mishpatim.

[5] Parenthesis mine.

[6] Sanhedrin 23a. This text is quoting a Braita.

[7] Chagiga 3:1.

[8] Masechet Soferim 14:11.

[9] Shabbat 62b.

[10] Derech Eretz Zeira, 6:1.

[11] Parenthesis mine.

[12] Although the reference to evil spirits and demons is common particularly in the Babylonian Talmud (as was demonology popular in Zoroastrian Babylonia; see here and here and here) Rambam and other rationalists did not believe demons were a Jewish idea.

[13] Pesachim 112b. (I have used a more readable and modern English in all Talmudic excerpts and other quotations.)

[14] Chulin 91a.

[15] We see this in the reference to Chulin above the scholar is specified as the one to avoid the dangers of demons at night.

[16] Berachot 43b.

[17] Ibid.

[18] See note 12 for links to Babylonian influences on the Babylonian Talmud.