II. Argument for the Sake of Heaven THE CORE IDEA The Koraḥ rebellion was different from the other complaints and demonstrations Moshe faced during the wilderness years. It did not stem from a problem the Israelites faced such as a lack of food or water, or a way through the sea, or having to fight a battle against giants. It was a personal attack on Moshe and Aharon. Koraḥ and his fellow rebels accused Moshe of favouritism, of failure, and of being a fraud – of making decisions for his own benefit, in the name of God. So terrible was this argument, that it became the classic example for the Sages of the worst kind of disagreement – an argument “not for the sake of heaven.” The opposite of this is an argument for the sake of heaven, and the classic example given by the Sages is arguments between Hillel and Shammai (Mishna Avot 5:17).

The Meiri (who lived in Spain in the thirteenth century) explains the difference between them in this way: “Hillel and Shammai argued out of a desire to discover the truth, not out of grumpiness or just for the sake of winning an argument…but Koraḥ and his followers came to attack Moshe out of jealousy and a desire for victory.” In other words, the first type of argument is an argument for the sake of truth and the second is an argument for the sake of victory.

This becomes obvious when you notice the difference between what the rebels said and what they really wanted. What they said was that the people did not need leaders, because they were all holy. They had all heard the word of God. There should therefore be no leaders of higher rank or holiness within Israel. “Why then do you set yourselves above the Lord’s assembly?” (Bemidbar 16:3). But from Moshe’s reply, it is clear that he knew they actually wanted something altogether different. He answered: “Now listen, you Levites! Is it not enough for you that the God of Israel has separated you from the rest of the Israelite community and brought you near Himself to do the work at the Lord’s Tabernacle and to stand before the community and minister to them…but now you are trying to get the priesthood too” (Bemidbar 16:8–10).

Moshe knew they did not really want a community without leaders. Instead, they wanted to be the leaders. Koraḥ’s speech had nothing to do with finding the truth, but rather it was about achieving personal honour, status, and power.

QUESTIONS TO PONDER

1. What distinguishes an argument for the sake of heaven from other arguments?

2. What did Koraḥ really want? What do you think Hillel and Shammai wanted when they argued?

3. Can you think of examples of both types of arguments from your own life?

IT ONCE HAPPENED… A story is told in the Talmud (Eiruvin 13b) where for three years, Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel (the students of Shammai and Hillel) argued about a matter of halakha, neither being able to convince the other to change their opinion. Beit Shammai said, “The halakha follows our opinion,” and Beit Hillel said, “The halakha follows our opinion.” Eventually, a voice from heaven was heard announcing, “Both these and those are the words of the living God. But the halakha follows the opinion of Beit Hillel.”

The Talmud then asks: “Since God declares that both these and those are the words of the living God, for what reason does the halakha follow the opinion of Beit Hillel?” The following explanation is given: The followers of Hillel were friendly and patient, treating everyone with respect, and when they taught the halakha they would teach the teachings of Beit Shammai as well as their own teachings. In fact, when they presented their own position in a debate between the teachings of Hillel and Shammai, they gave priority to the teachings of Shammai, teaching this position before their own.

QUESTIONS TO PONDER

1. How can the positions of both Hillel and Shammai be the words of the living God if they contradict each other?

2. If both positions are right, why does God need to announce a winner?

THINKING MORE DEEPLY Moshe’s first response to Koraḥ and his followers was to propose a simple test. Let the rebels bring an offering of incense the next day and God would show whether He accepted or rejected their offering. This is a rational response. Since Koraḥ and his fellows claimed Moshe did whatever he wanted, not what God wanted, let God decide who the true leader should be. It was a controlled experiment, an empirical test. God would let the people know, in an unambiguous way, who was right. It would establish, once and for all, the truth.

But Moshe did not stop there, as he would have done if truth were the only issue involved. As we saw in the quote above, Moshe tried to argue Koraḥ out of his dissent, not by addressing his argument but by speaking to the resentment that lay behind it. He told him that he had been given a position of honour. He may not have been a priest but he was a Levite, and the Levites had special sacred status not shared by the other tribes. He was telling him to be satisfied with the honour he had and not let his ambition overreach itself.

At this point, the confrontation became yet more intense. For the first and only time in his life, Moshe staked his leadership on the occurrence of a miracle. He said, “By this you shall know that it was the Lord who sent me to do all these things, that they were not of my own devising: If these men die a natural death and suffer the fate of all mankind, then the Lord has not sent me. But if the Lord brings about something totally new, and the earth opens its mouth and swallows them, with everything that belongs to them, and they go down alive into the grave, then you will know that these men have treated the Lord with contempt” (Bemidbar 16:28–30).

He was immediately answered. No sooner had he finished than “the ground under them split apart and the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them” (Bemidbar 16:32). The rebels “went down alive into the grave” (16:33). One cannot imagine a more dramatic vindication. God had shown, beyond possibility of doubt, that Moshe was right and the rebels wrong. Yet this did not end the argument. That is what is extraordinary. Far from being apologetic and repentant, the people returned the next morning still complaining – this time, not about who should lead whom but about the way Moshe had chosen to end the dispute: “The next day, the whole Israelite community grumbled against Moshe and Aharon. ‘You have killed the Lord’s people,’ they said” (17:6).

You may be right, they implied, and Koraḥ may have been wrong. But is this a way to win an argument? To cause your opponents to be swallowed up alive? This time, God suggested an entirely different way of resolving the dispute. He told Moshe to have each of the tribes take a staff and write their name on it, and place them in the Tent of Meeting. On the staff of the tribe of Levi, the name of Aharon should be written. One of the staffs would sprout, and that would signal whom God had chosen. The tribes did so, and the next morning they returned to find that Aharon’s staff had budded, blossomed, and produced almonds. That, finally, ended the argument (Bemidbar 17:16–24).

What resolved the dispute, in other words, was not a show of power but something altogether different. The fact that Aharon’s rod produced almond blossoms seems to have had rich symbolism. In the Near East, the almond is the first tree to blossom, its white flowers signalling the end of winter and the emergence of new life. The almond flowers recalled the gold flowers on the Menora (Shemot 25:31; 37:17), lit daily by Aharon in the Sanctuary. The Hebrew word tzitz, used here to mean “blossom,” recalls the tzitz, the frontlet of pure gold worn as part of Aharon’s headdress, on which were inscribed the words, “Holy to the Lord” (Shemot 28:36). The sprouting almond branch was therefore more than a sign. It was a multifaceted symbol of life, light, holiness, and the watchful presence of God.

One could almost say that the almond branch symbolised the priestly will to life as against the rebels’ will to power. The priest does not rule the people; he blesses them. He is the channel through which God’s life-giving energies flow. He connects the nation to the Divine Presence. What makes a spiritual leader is not ambition but humility. Moshe answered Koraḥ in Koraḥ’s terms, by a show of force. God answered in a quite different way, showing that leadership is not self-assertion but self-effacement.

FROM THE THOUGHT OF RABBI SACKS The Sages celebrated maḥloket leshem shamayim, “argument for the sake of heaven.” They epitomised it in the archetypal debates between Hillel and Shammai, about which it was said that “elu ve’elu divrei Elokim ḥayim,” “these and these are the words of the living God.” The central document of rabbinic Judaism, the Babylonian Talmud, is written in the form of sequences of argument. The argument itself and the clarification of the issues involved is often more important than the conclusions reached. Rejected opinions are considered as closely as accepted ones. Indeed, the Talmud states that the rulings of the school of Hillel became authoritative because, among other things, they studied the views of their opponents as well as their own and stated them before their own.

Argument, for the Sages, was a deeply religious mode of discourse: not only argument between man and man, but even argument between man and God. The aggadic or interpretive literature of the talmudic period turns the biblical conversations between man and God – Moshe’s plea for the Israelites after the sin of the Golden Calf, for example, or Ḥana’s prayer for a child – into intense and dramatic confrontations which the rabbis termed ḥutzpah kelapei shamaya, audacity towards heaven. In this respect they were continuing a biblical tradition of argument between earth and heaven – we recall Avraham’s dialogue over the fate of Sodom, Iyov’s over his tragedy, Moshe’s and Yirmeya’s over the justice of providence. It is a highly distinctive tone of Jewish spirituality, one that embarrassed Philo and other Jewish philosophers, but one that remained close to the Jewish heart.

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QUESTIONS TO PONDER

1. Why do you think argument is so central to Jewish culture, the halakhic process, and even Jewish spirituality?

2. How can an argument between man and God be considered an “argument for the sake of heaven”?

AROUND THE SHABBAT TABLE How were Hillel and Shammai’s debates a paradigm example of an argument for the sake of heaven?

Why wasn’t the earthquake enough to settle the dispute in the eyes of the people?

Why do you think Judaism’s key texts are “anthologies of arguments?”

EDUCATIONAL COMPANION TO THE QUESTIONS

THE CORE IDEA An argument for the sake of heaven involves both sides striving to establish the truth. The losing side in an argument will gracefully accept defeat because the truth has been reached and that was their sole motivation for the argument. However, an argument not for the sake of heaven is driven by ulterior motives such as honour and status. The loser in such an argument will feel the pain of defeat and find it hard to accept, because their sole aim has not been achieved.

Koraḥ wanted the status and power that Moshe and Aharon had. He was jealous of the position and status that they had been given by God. Hillel and Shammai had only one goal in their debates – to decide on the halakha. This was their truth and while Shammai was defeated in all but five occasions, he accepted this because the truth of a halakhic ruling had been established.

If we are honest with ourselves, we can all find examples of arguments that we have had that have been less about finding the truth and more about winning the argument. Hopefully we can also find examples when we have gracefully accepted defeat because we were only interested in the question being debated.

IT ONCE HAPPENED… Both positions are seen as “right” and “true” in the eyes of God. Neither is superior to the other (if one position was, then it would have disproven the other and there would have been a clear winner without a need for God to declare which was the halakha). Not all arguments are between truth and falsehood. Sometimes two truths can be in opposition.

Because this is a matter of normative halakha, we need to have a final decision so we can know how to act. God needed to announce which of the two legitimate positions is the one that was to become the normative halakha.

FROM THE THOUGHT OF RABBI SACKS The culture of debate and argument democratises Jewish knowledge and spirituality. It means that anyone can be part of the conversation. The Sages even extend this to standing face to face with God and challenging Him for justice or understanding. Whether the greatest Jewish leaders such as Moshe and Avraham, or simple Jews such as Iyov or you and I, each has the right to stand before God and challenge and argue, within the parameters of deep faith in God.

If an argument for the sake of heaven is the pursuit of truth, then when Moshe, Avraham, and Iyov challenge God they are asking for an account of the truth. This is a remarkable and unique spiritual paradigm for a personal relationship with God. Man can and should hold God accountable for truth and justice. However, this must also be within the framework of faith and a humility that recognises that not all of truth can be grasped by finite humanity.

AROUND THE SHABBAT TABLE They were searching for the truth only, and not interested in personal honour or status. This is clearly seen in the way they accepted the legitimacy of each other’s position, accepting “defeat” with grace, because it was ultimately not seen as defeat, but rather victory in the search for truth. Beit Hillel especially demonstrated this in the way that they respected the opinion of their opponents, making it a priority to teach the opinions of Beit Shammai first.

Sometimes having truth on your side to win an argument is not the most important thing. The way you treat your opponent and allow room in society for those who feel excluded as a result of the outcome of an argument is more important. The more effective way to resolve conflict was demonstrated later. When all the leaders planted their rods, only Aharon’s blossomed. This was a sign of life and light, rebirth and ultimately reconciliation.

As we mentioned, the culture of debate and argument democratises Jewish knowledge and spirituality, allowing everyone to be part of the conversation. This can even include challenging God. “That is the glory of Judaism. The Divine Presence is to be found not in this voice as against that, but in the totality of the conversation.” This empowers everyone to be part of the conversation in the search for truth.