Elisha Ben Abuya and the Thrice-Yearly Jews

On Yom Kippur, Rabbi Joel (Kol Nefesh Masorti, London) spoke about Elisha Ben Abuya. Elisha Ben Abuya is (in)famous for becoming a heretic, the quintessential other of the rabbinic tradition. In Ruth Rabba, we discover why he abandoned Judaism:

They say that one time he was sitting and learning in the Valley of Ginosar, and he saw a man climb up to the top of a palm tree and remove the mother bird while her chicks were there present – and he climbed down safely. Upon the departure of the Sabbath, he saw a different man climb to the top of the palm tree, and he took the chicks but only after sending the mother bird away – and when he climbed down he was bitten by a snake and he died. He said: It is written, “You shall surely send away the mother [bird], only then taking the chicks for yourself, so that you may fare well and have a long life” (Deuteronomy 22:7). Where is this wellness, and where is this longevity?

Elisha Ben Abuya saw someone die moments after carrying out a mitzvah that explicitly promises the reward of a long life. As Rabbi Joel phrased it, he saw that the Torah was objectively wrong. This wasn’t a crisis of faith; he simply came to the realisation that his religious observance could no longer be intellectually justified.

You can take the man out of Judaism, though, but you can’t take the Judaism out of the man. Elisha Ben Abuya’s knowledge didn’t vanish with his heresy – he remained one of the most significant scholars around. And he still had students. Most famously, Rabbi Meir:

Rabbi Meir was sitting and giving a drash, teaching Torah, in the Beit Midrash of Tiberia, and Elisha his rabbi was travelling in the marketplace, riding a horse on the Sabbath. They said to Rabbi Meir: Your rabbi, Elisha, is travelling in the marketplace. He went out to him. [They learn together]….He said to him: “Return.” He [Elisha Ben Abuya] said to him [Rabbi Meir], “Why?” He said to him, “You have approached the limit of the prescribed area for walking on the Sabbath.” He said to him, “From whence do you know this?” He said, “From the footsteps of my horse, who already walked 2000 amah (the permitted distance to walk on the Sabbath). He said to him: “And you have so much wisdom, why do you not turn back [from your ways]?” He said to him: “It is beyond my power.” He said to him: “Why?” He said to him, I was riding on a horse, travelling behind the synagogue on Yom Kippur that happened to fall on the Sabbath, and I heard a divine voice burst forth, saying: ‘Turn back, rebellious children’ (Jeremiah 3:14) – return to me and I will turn back to you – except for Elisha ben Abuya, who knew my power yet rebelled against me.”

Rabbi Meir goes out to learn with his Rav, despite the fact that he is riding his horse on Shabbat. A hacham is a hacham, even if he is desecrating the Sabbath: it is perfectly permissible to learn with him. After learning with Ben Abuya, Rabbi Meir tries to convince him to return to the fold. The language of the midrash, ostensibly a technical matter about not being able to walk further than 2000 amot, is filled with the language of return, the desperate pleas of a pupil to his master. Alas, Elisha Ben Abuya says, I cannot return. The reason? God has singled him out as one not capable of taking such a step: “Turn back, rebellious children’(Jeremiah 3:14’- return to me and I will turn back to you – except for Elisha ben Abuya, who knew my power yet returned to me.” These were God’s words.

Rabbi Joel compared his congregants to Elisha Ben Abuya. You all talk of wanting to return to Judaism, and are happy to encourage others to do so, but will always excuse yourselves from taking the leap. The justifications for this refusal, Joel argued, are insufficient. In reality, there are no real obstacles preventing someone from returning, should s/he truly desire it. Everyone-else-can-do-it-but-I-can’t is the standard mantra of the disengaged Anglo-Jew, secure in his thrice yearly appearances in synagogue, but it shouldn’t be sufficient for us.  

I don’t think anyone present during Rabbi Joel’s shiur will be insulted if I point out that none of us quite match up to the reputed learning of Elisha Ben Abuya. The comparison, however, is apt – although not quite in the way that Joel intends it. For a leading sage to abandon Judaism in the ancient world was no easy task. Imagine Rabbi Jonathan Sacks becoming an apostate, for example, and multiply the difficulties tenfold. In the world before the enlightenment, challenging the reigning orthodoxies was far from easy. To have the courage to do so, the evidence against religion would have to be presented on a plate. The chances of Ben Abuya seeing the promises of the Torah so brazenly contradicted were slim indeed. In this sense, he was a lucky man.

Today, things are different. It is proving the claims of religion – even in its most pluralistic garb – that has become difficult. Ben-Abuya’s mother-bird story is not the exception, it is the rule. Every day our reason tells us that religious practice is not the way to go. The problem is not with us, it is with the product. The reason people do not practice Judaism is not because they are lacking integrity; it is because they are not convinced by it. Elisha Ben-Abuya’s integrity was sound. Today, the challenge is not to make the Elisha Ben Abuyas of this world return to orthopraxis, but to ask how to form a community that will sustain them in their exile from the tradition.