by Rabbi Yisroel Rubin
based on the teachings of The Lubavitcher Rebbe, ZT"L

Talmudic diversity of opinion reveals that Torah is not one-dimensional, but rather a broad spectrum of Divine light radiating on different wavelengths.

When the Jews received the Torah at Mount Sinai, several categories of Jewish law were created. Among these were halachah l’Moshe miSinai, laws specifically taught by G-d to Moses. Also given to Moses were the hermeneutic principles, rules by which laws could be derived from the Torah’s words. These principles include kal vachomer (inference from a minor case to a major case), gezerah shavah (similarity of word usage in two verses of the Torah), and klal u’frat (successive general and specific statements in the Torah).

The Rambam writes that in the case of halachah l’Moshe miSinai, we find no debates among the Sages. Indeed, says the Rambam, the existence of a dispute is a sign that a particular rule is not a halachah l’Moshe miSinai. (Of course, this statement by the Rambam has itself led to considerable debate!) Only in the case of laws derived by the hermeneutic principles do disputes arise. And arise they have; the Talmud is flush with disagreements about Jewish law.

How are we to regard the range and disparity of interpretation that we find among the Sages? Are those Sages whose opinions were disregarded in law considered mistaken? Can clashing viewpoints both be “words of the living G-d,” to quote the Talmudic term?

The old joke that two Jews have three opinions has become a sad fact. Our penchant for division recalls the story of a Jew shipwrecked on an island. In time, this isolated Jew built for himself all of life’s necessities, including two shuls: one where he prayed, and another “in which I will never set foot.”

Movements try to assert themselves at the expense of others. Some fear others elbowing their way in by pushing others out, while others feel threatened by their counterparts’ higher or lower “religious” level. Positions harden as personal agendas are cloaked in religious mantles, and politics are sanctified as righteous “isms.”

These holy war mongers add fuel to the fire by invoking the Mishnah’s declaration that “an argument for the sake of Heaven endures forever” (Pirkei Avos 5:17). The Mishnah gives as an example the arguments between Hillel and Shammai. “If Hillel and Shammai fought, why not we?” proclaim these belligerents.

This misguided idealism degenerates into mutual recrimination and defamation. Minor matters are magnified into major chasms. Suspicion breeds suspicion, and what divides us overrides that which unites us. As the religious rhetoric escalates and clouds the controversy, it becomes hard to tell whether an argument is truly for the sake of Heaven.

Divisiveness As a Blessing

“What kind of argument is for the sake of Heaven endures forever?” asks Pirkei Avos. “This is the argument between Hillel and Shammai.” Let us study the unique Hillel/Shammai relationship to better appreciate the value of division. Why is eternal divisiveness a blessing? Why should arguments endure? Wouldn’t Judaism be less confusing and more peaceful without conflicting opinions? Don’t we escort the Torah back to the ark by singing: “Its ways are pleasant ways, and all its paths are peace”?

Actually, Talmudic diversity of opinion reveals that Torah is not one-dimensional, but rather a broad spectrum of Divine light radiating on different wavelengths. In a Talmudic debate, both opinions are valid, since each expresses a different wavelength on the Torah spectrum. For practical purposes, we must decide how to act, and the law usually follows Hillel. But Shammai, too, represents a valid school of thought. No one is right or wrong, because Hillel and Shammai both come from a good and holy place.

As a multifaceted diamond, the Torah’s sparkle is appreciated from different angles, depending on the perspective. Who is Number One? The Talmud notes Hillel’s humility in allowing Shammai to be the first to state his opinion (Eruvin 13b). How ironic that Pirkei Avos breaks this rule in the first, second, and fifth chapters. Why does our authoritative source of ethics violate this arrangement, consistently mentioning Hillel before Shammai? Obviously, there is more to Hillel allowing Shammai to speak first than mere courtesy.

An Unrivaled Rivalry

Despite the issues dividing them, Shammai and Hillel enjoyed a loving relationship. Usually, intense rivals try to prove their opponent wrong, to eliminate the opposition. But Hillel and Shammai welcomed their opposition, for it allowed them to expand the breadth of the living word of G-d. Hillel refused to state his position without first hearing Shammai’s view. Hillel was lenient only after Shammai’s (generally) stricter ruling pulled in the opposite direction, providing a healthy counterbalance to create a Torah equilibrium.

Hillel and Shammai had clashing personalities, attitudes, and modes of interpretation, but both agreed that there is more than their own side to a Torah issue. Convinced as they were of the truth of their own opinion, they were convinced that their opponent was also right, at least on a theoretical level. They did not simply tolerate a contrary viewpoint or politely agree to disagree. They eagerly welcomed the opportunity to explore all sides of the Divine word. It is remarkable that Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai, a leading member of the School of Hillel, was a student of both Hillel and Shammai. It certainly is a challenge to be an ardent student of diametrically opposite schools.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 36b) describes the layout of the bais din, the Jewish court. The twenty-three judges sat in a semi-circle. Seated before them were three rows of twenty-three students, who participated in the deliberations. Based on a quote from Shir HaShirim (the Song of Songs) comparing the court to a blend of wine, the twenty-three judges represent a one to three ratio in the full courthouse of ninety-two, just as one part of wine concentrate is diluted with three parts of water. The Chasam Sofer explains that the diversity of Torah opinion requires a balance similar to the blend of wine and water, i.e., sharp and tepid. Hillel and Shammai could not exist without each other, just as wine concentrate is not drinkable without water.

The famous story of the three converts who were rejected by Shammai but accepted by Hillel is an example of this interdependence. Hillel’s acceptance of the converts raises a serious halachic issue. A potential convert must first be discouraged, in order to test his sincerity. How did Hillel accept these three converts without initially rejecting them? The answer is that Hillel relied on Shammai’s initial rejection. The convert’s sincerity was proven by his persistence in seeking out Hillel after being rejected by Shammai.

An argument for the sake of Heaven endures. Endurance is the criterion defining which argument truly is for the sake of Heaven. As with Hillel and Shammai, when the two parties to a debate are interdependent, when each sincerely wants the opposing view to endure, then the argument is legitimate. Such an argument should and will truly endure forever. And no one can argue with that.

Copyright by Rabbi Yisroel Rubin, Director, Chabad Outreach Centers, Albany, NY.