Introduction
The question of the extent to which ascetic ideology and practice is reflected in talmudic culture has long occupied the minds of scholars and remains a hotly debated issue to this day. The essentialist and ideologically motivated discourse that held sway during the nineteenth and most of the twentieth centuryFootnote 1 has been replaced by a more sophisticated and nuanced discussion in recent decades,Footnote 2 which acknowledges the wide array of meanings and practices associated with asceticism, the difficulty inherent in delineating its basic contours, and the profound differences of opinion that exist on the matter in the extant rabbinic texts.Footnote 3
Realizing the complexity and nuance of asceticism, some scholars have suggested expanding the range of ideologies and practices associated with asceticism, to include mainstream rabbinic practices and beliefs.Footnote 4 Steven Fraade has suggested an important working definition, which appears to be broad enough to include significant rabbinic practices and yet is sufficiently narrow to exclude other forms of religious and spiritual expressions that can by no account be rendered ascetic. By his definition, asceticism is “the exercise of disciplined effort toward the goal of spiritual perfection (however understood) which requires abstention (whether total or partial, permanent or temporary, individualistic or communalistic) from the satisfaction of otherwise permitted earthly, creaturely desires.”Footnote 5
Using a similar methodology, Michael Satlow and Eliezer Diamond have independently concluded that the ideal of talmud torah functions in rabbinic culture as an ascetic ideology, as the rabbis often advocate intellectual, spiritual, and physical toil, as well as different forms of abstention and restraint, in the course of Torah study.Footnote 6 This does not mean, of course, that asceticism is the only prism through which the rabbis viewed the study of Torah, nor does it indicate that all the rabbis shared this point of view, but simply that asceticism is one of several lenses through which the rabbis construed the ideology of talmud torah. As Satlow writes:
For the rabbis, talmud torah was the ascetic practice par excellence, a “physical and mental process of ordering the self.” As such, talmud torah cannot be viewed as a sui generis religious activity. By construing talmud torah in this manner, the rabbis were participating in the broader spiritual landscape of late antiquity, of which asceticism was an important component. Although their means differed, ancient rabbis, pagan philosophers, and church fathers were all engaged in a similar quest to perfect the individual through physical and mental discipline in order to bring him or her closer to the divine.Footnote 7
Drawing on the understanding of talmud torah in terms of ascetic ideology, this article seeks to examine a set of talmudic traditions that portray a theological, exegetical, and practical tension that emerges from the confrontation of the ideal of ceaseless and perpetual study of Torah, on the one hand, and the notion of worldly occupation, on the other. This fundamental tension is emblematically expressed in Sifrei Devarim through the juxtaposition of two verses. On the one hand, it is stipulated that “this book of the Torah shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night” (Joshua 1:8),Footnote 8 but, on the other hand, it is said that “you shallFootnote 9 gather in your grain, your wine, and your oil” (Deuteronomy 11:14).Footnote 10
While some form of conflict between spiritual pursuits and mundane needs characterizes ascetic systems in general, this article will contextualize the particular rabbinic dilemma of study versus sustenance within the broader context of the Zoroastrian tradition and its critique of the Manichaean Elect. The rabbis shared with their Zoroastrian contemporaries not only the perception of a religious tension between agriculture and the pursuit of religious studies, but also a multifaceted array of possible solutions that attempt to harmonize, mitigate, or otherwise resolve this theological tension. While the basic conflict between study and sustenance is already formulated in tannaitic works, the unique perspective offered by the Babylonian Talmud invokes, and perhaps reacts to, the Zoroastrian and Manichaean traditions.
Despite the predominance of the ideal of talmud torah in the rabbinic culture of Sasanian Babylonia,Footnote 11 most Babylonian rabbis seem to have supported the “balanced” model attributed to R. Ishmael, which combines talmud torah with worldly occupation.Footnote 12 Two Babylonian narratives, however, take issue with the “exclusive” model attributed to Rashbi, which demands complete dedication to a life of Torah, whether of Israel as a whole or at least of certain individuals who are sufficiently sustained.Footnote 13 The Babylonian narratives—namely, the story of ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan,Footnote 14 and that of Rashbi's caveFootnote 15—follow a similar twofold structure, in which the exclusive model is initially pushed to its limits, presenting an unbridgeable opposition between a redemptive life of study and a mundane life of employment that, sooner or later, leads to one's death. This extreme interpretation of the exclusive model is not found in the tannaitic works and appears to be unique to the Babylonian construal of Rashbi's position. Subsequently, both narratives artfully critique the extreme opposition between study and sustenance and offer salvation to those engaged in the pursuit of a livelihood.
Similarly to the rabbinic dilemma, the HērbedestānFootnote 16 inquires whether a priestly student should pursue his priestly studies or engage in the “guardianship of property.”Footnote 17 The text provides two alternative solutions that, by and large, mirror the rabbinic positions of R. Ishmael and Rashbi. While the Avestan and the tannaitic presentations of the dilemma share several elements in common, the Pahlavi and Babylonian versions of the dilemma are more intimately connected. While the Avesta and the tannaitic works refer to a general notion of studying (Torah or priestly studies) against worldly occupation, the Babylonian narratives and the Pahlavi commentary shift the focus of the dilemma towards the notion of going away to a locus of academic study, which intensifies the conflict between study and domestic obligations.Footnote 18
Another important feature shared by the Babylonian narratives and the Pahlavi literature concerns the critique of the exclusive model—attributed to Rashbi and the Manichaean Elect, respectively—by way of reductio ad absurdum. Both Rashbi and the Manichaean Elect are thus similarly scrutinized, criticized, and caricatured for their extreme renunciation of agriculture; for “destroying the world”; and for the denial of salvation to those who engage in worldly occupation. Needless to say, neither Rashbi's position in the tannaitic works nor the Manichaean theology ought to be construed in such a manner. It is rather the polemical perspectives of the Babylonian redactors and the Zoroastrian critics that are at stake here. While certain Babylonian and Zoroastrian authorities accepted the precedence of study over sustenance, the talmudic narratives and the Pahlavi critique of Manichaeism wage war against extreme forms of renunciation, as they attempt to reaffirm worldly engagement as a mitzvah or a kirbag (a meritorious deed).
The extreme version of Rashbi's position in the Babylonian Talmud, akin to the Manichaean perspective according to the Zoroastrian critique, is reflected most vividly in B. Shabbat 33b in the context of the famous narrative about Rashbi's flight from the Romans and his ascetic adventures in a cave. The talmudic narratives about Rashbi have been previously examined by several scholars and have been thoroughly treated from various historical and literary perspectives.Footnote 19 The cave story was recently examined by Michal Bar-Asher Siegal and Charlotte Fonrobert, respectively, from a comparative perspective. Bar-Asher SiegalFootnote 20 viewed the story in the context of a set of monastic traditionsFootnote 21 stemming from the Apophthegmata PatrumFootnote 22 (a collection of sayings of the desert fathers), while Charlotte Fonrobert read the story in the light of Plato's philosophy as embedded in his famous cave parable.Footnote 23
These studies reflect tendencies that presently hold sway in the comparative study of rabbinic literature. The comparative study of the Babylonian Talmud has taken three major trajectories over the past decade, associated with three distinct cultural milieus that can contribute to our understanding of the text. One major strand underscores the role of eastern forms of Christianity in shaping the content and structure of the Babylonian Talmud;Footnote 24 a second strand emphasizes the impact of the Greco-Roman world not only on Palestinian rabbinic works, but also on the Babylonian Talmud via the transmission of Greco-Roman culture in the Sasanian Empire;Footnote 25 and a third strand stresses the Iranian and Zoroastrian backgrounds of the Babylonian Talmud.Footnote 26 While the studies of Bar-Asher Siegal and Fonrobert exemplify the applicability of the first two scholarly tendencies in the context of the cave story, the present study seeks to demonstrate the fruitfulness of the third scholarly strand—the Iranian and Zoroastrian context—its applicability in illuminating the cave story, and its broader implications for the tension between study and worldly occupation. Without denying the importance of the monastic and Greco-Roman components of the cave story, the religious concerns embedded in this story may also be located in the Zoroastrian world and its religious polemic against the Manichaean Elect.
Cultural and religious expressions are rarely, if ever, produced in complete cultural isolation. Even “internally-oriented” communities are penetrable, whether consciously or subconsciously, by the surrounding cultures, and the case of Jewish Babylonia is no different. It has been demonstrated, moreover, by Yaakov Elman that the elite rabbinic culture of Sasanian Babylonia was particularly susceptible to acculturation.Footnote 27 This does not necessitate, of course, the envisioning of a process of direct “influence,” in which the rabbis are said to acquire doctrines, practices, or motifs directly from other cultures.Footnote 28 When general cultural categories are at stake—such as the basic dilemma of spirituality versus livelihood—it is all the more difficult to discern particular channels of cultural impact. However, whether or not actual “borrowing” took place, the contextualization of the rabbinic conflict over the value of asceticism within contemporaneous religious formations significantly illuminates our understanding of the dilemma and its proposed solutions. Rather than speculating about possible channels of “influence,” therefore, the general “fuzziness” of boundaries between rabbinic Judaism and adjacent religious cultures should be acknowledged, along with the vibrant and complex set of cultural relationships which this description entails.Footnote 29
The Rabbinic Conflict
The theological and practical tension that exists between the ideal of ceaseless study of Torah and agricultural occupation is famously formulated in Sifrei Devarim as an exegetical juxtaposition of two contradicting verses.
ואספת למ' נא' לפי שנ' לא ימוש וגו' שומע אני כמשמעו תל' לומ' ואספת וגו' דרך ארץ דיברה תורה דב' ר' יש' ר' שמע' בן יוחי או' אין לדבר סוף קוצר בשעת קציר חורש בשעת חריש דש בש' שרב זורה בשעת הרוח אימתי אדם לומד תורה אלא כש יש' עושין רצון המקום מל(כ)[א]כתן נעשה על ידי אחירין שנ' ועמדו זרים ורעו צאנכם וגו' וכשאינן עוש' רצ' המק' מלאכתן נעש' על ידי עצמן ולא עוד אלא שמלאכת אחירין נעשת על ידן שנ' ועבדת את איביך וגו'.Footnote 30
“And thou shall gather in [your grain, your wine, and your oil]” [Deuteronomy 11:14]. Why is this written? Since it says “[This book of the Torah] shall not depart [out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night]” [Joshua 1:8], I might think that this injunction is to be taken literally. Therefore it says, “And thou shall gather in”—the Torah [itself] speaks of worldly occupation. This is the view of R. Ishmael. R. Shimon ben Yoḥai says: There is no end to it; [if a person] reaps in the reaping season, ploughs in the ploughing season, threshes in the season of heat, and winnows in the season of wind, when would he study the Torah? Thus, when Israel performs the will of the Omnipresent, their work is performed by others, as it says “And strangers will stand and feed your flocks.” But when Israel does not perform the will of the Omnipresent their work is carried out by themselves, nor is this all, but the work of others too is done by them, as it says “And you will labor for your enemy.”
Sifrei Devarim proposes two alternative solutions for this religious dilemma, which are respectively attributed to R. Ishmael and Rashbi. According to R. Ishmael, both the exegetical and practical conflicts can be resolved by promoting a balanced lifestyle that combines agriculture and spiritual pursuits. Scripture does not mean that one should not cease from the study of Torah in the literal sense, but rather that one should study the Torah to the best of his ability whilst sustaining his basic worldly needs by pursuing an agricultural occupation. Rashbi, on the other hand, advocates a more extreme lifestyle that is purely dedicated to the study of the Torah. As long as the people of Israel perform the will of God (by studying the Torah and obeying the commandments) their material needs will be sustained by others. If they do not perform the will of God, however, they will not only sustain their own material needs but will be forced to sustain the needs of others.Footnote 31
R. Ishmael offers not only a hermeneutic solution to the contradiction between the two verses, but also a practical lifestyle that neutralizes the theological conflict. Rashbi, on the other hand, solves only the hermeneutic contradiction between the verses, as he interprets the pursuit of agricultural occupation as the unfortunate consequence of disobeying the will of God and not as a positive injunction. On the other hand, the solution that he offers is not very practical, to say the least. Is one expected to refrain from agricultural occupation and simply hope that he will be sustained by others or by God? Perhaps Rashbi's position can be better understood in light of another tannaitic statement attributed to him in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael.
מיכן היה ר' שמעון בן יוחי או' לא נתנה תורה לדרוש אלא לאוכלי המן הא כיצד היה יושב ודורש ולא היה יודע מהיכן הוא אוכל ושותה מ(י)היכן הוא לובש ומתכסה הא לא נתנה תורה לדרוש אל' לאוכלי המן ושניים להן לאוכלי תרומה.Footnote 32
From here R. Shimon ben Yoḥai said: The Torah was only given to be expounded by those who eat manna. How is this so? A man is sitting and expounding and does not know wherefrom he will eat and drink, wherefrom he will clothe and cover himself, thus the Torah was only given to be expounded by those who eat manna and, second to them, those who eat terumah.Footnote 33
The Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael suggests that the extreme lifestyle of ceaseless study advocated by Rashbi only applies to people who are miraculously sustained, such as the consumers of the manna in the desert, or to priests who can live off the priestly gifts. This does not apply to an average person who must necessarily sustain himself by pursuing an agricultural occupation. Although it is possible to interpret Sifrei Devarim in light of the Mekhilta passage, which suggests that only very few individuals are actually required to maintain a life of ceaseless study, this is not the only possible interpretation. It is equally possible that Rashbi's position according to the Sifrei Devarim is much more extreme than that attributed to him in the Mekhilta. While the Mekhilta acknowledges the fact that the vast majority of people cannot lead a life of pure dedication to the study of Torah, the Sifrei Devarim may not share this mitigating stance, as it appears to demand ceaseless study from Israel as a whole.Footnote 34 One way or another, what appears to be common to the tannaitic formulations of Rashbi's position is the notion that those who maintain a life dedicated to study (whether demanded of Israel as a whole or only of certain individuals) are, or ought to be, sustained by others (whether by the labor of other nations, a heavenly miracle, or by the priestly gifts).
A related tannaitic dispute preserved in M. Kiddushin 4:14 and T. Kiddushin 5:15–16 concerns the question of teaching a profession as part of the education process. While certain authorities hold that one should teach his son a profession, others maintain that one should teach him only the Torah.Footnote 35 The latter stipulate that Torah confers not only reward in the world to come, but in fact sustains one's needs in this world.Footnote 36 One should thus immerse himself in the study of Torah and not worry about worldly occupation. These positions seem to mirror the positions attributed to R. Ishmael and Rashbi in Sifrei Devarim.
It seems, however, that the dispute between R. Ishmael and Rashbi is emblematic of a much broader discrepancy that is evident between different rabbinic texts. While some sources bespeak the importance of agriculture and a livelihood, others imply that a life of Torah requires complete dedication, poverty, and abstention from engagement in the world.Footnote 37 In other words, one can discern both ascetic and nonascetic approaches in the extant talmudic corpus; any attempt to characterize the “rabbinic” approach towards asceticism is necessarily a project fraught with difficulty. Be that as it may, the talmudic discussion in B. Berakhot 35b, which immediately follows the dispute between R. Ishmael and Rashbi, explicitly engages the balanced model of R. Ishmael and rejects Rashbi's exclusive model. In response to the tannaitic dispute, several amoraic authorities introduce a nuance of R. Ishmael's position, which combines the study of Torah with agricultural occupation.
א' אביי הוו רבנ' דעבדי כר' ישמע' ואיקיים בידייהו תלמודייהו ואיכ' רבנן דעבדי כר' שמע' בן יוחי ולא איקיים תלמודייהו בידייהו א' להו רבא לרבנן במטותא מינייכו לא תיתחזו קמאי לא ביומי ניסן ולא ביומי תשרי כי היכי דלא ליטרדו במזונייכו כולי שתא א' רבה בר חנה א' ר' יוחנן משום ר' יהודה בר' אילעאי בוא וראה שלא כבדורות ראשונים דורות אחרונים דורות ראשונ' עושין תורתן קבע ומלאכתן עראי זה וזה נתקיימו בידם דורות האחרונים עושין תורתן (קבע) עראי ומלאכתן [קבע] וזה וזה לא נתקיימו בידם.Footnote 38
Abaye said: There were rabbis who followed the advice of R. Ishmael and their study lasted in their hands; but there are others who have followed R. Shimon ben Yoḥai and their study did not last in their hands. Rava said to the rabbis: I beg you not to appear before me during the days of Nisan and Tishrei, so that you may not be anxious about your food supply during the rest of the year. Rabbah b. Ḥannah said in the name of R. Yoḥanan, reporting in the name of R. Yehudah b. ʾIlaʽi: Come and see what difference there is between the earlier and the later generations. The earlier generations made the study of Torah their main occupation and their ordinary work subsidiary to it, and both lasted in their hands. The later generations made their ordinary work their main occupation and their study of the Torah subsidiary, and neither lasted in their hands.Footnote 39
Abaye and Rava explicitly relate to R. Ishmael's balanced model, and the former even asserts the impracticality of Rashbi's position, as “there are rabbis who have followed R. Shimon ben Yoḥai and their study did not last in their hands.” Even the third position attributed to Rabbah b. Ḥannah in the name of R. Yoḥanan, who reported in the name of R. Yehudah b. ʾIla‘i, does not seem to differ fundamentally. The idea that Torah should be the main occupation while ordinary work remains subsidiary seems to be precisely what R. Ishmael (or the Sifrei) had in mind when he exclaimed that Torah should be accompanied by worldly occupation.
In addition, there are two Babylonian narratives (B. Taʽanit 21a and B. Shabbat 33b) that subversively reduce the exclusive position of Rashbi ad absurdum by portraying the tension between study and sustenance in terms of the opposition between redemptive life, on the one hand, and death on the other. This extreme portrayal of Rashbi's position in the Babylonian narratives and the critical stance taken by Abaye and the redactors of the narratives towards the exclusive model are absent from the tannaitic works and thus seem to be characteristic of a Babylonian mindset.
B. Taʽanit 21a recounts the story of two sages, ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan, who decide to quit their studies in order to make a living. Sitting near an unsound wall, R. Yoḥanan hears an angel proposing to kill the two rabbis because “they forsake eternal life and busy themselves with temporal life” (מניחים חיי עולם ועוסקים בחיי שעה),Footnote 40 while another angel responds that one of the sages has a great future ahead of him. Upon this revelation, R. Yoḥanan resolves to return to his studies and eventually attains a position of leadership in the academy. ’Ilfa is informed that had he remained in the academy and studied he would have attained an even higher status. Subsequently, ’Ilfa proposes a most dramatic challenge to prove his mastery of Torah, as he suspends himself from a sailyard of a ship and promises to fall into the river if he cannot solve every legal question presented to him.
The story of ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan was recently examined by Jeffrey Rubenstein in his Stories of the Babylonian Talmud.Footnote 41 Rubenstein aptly observes that the first half of the story delineates two possible paths. The angel's assertion that “they forsake eternal life and busy themselves with temporal life” presents a very clear dichotomy between a life of Torah and a life of worldly occupation. The second half of the story, however, conveys the message that despite ’Ilfa's dedication to supporting himself he has by no means “forsaken eternal life,” but in fact excelled in Torah as well. This ending collapses the oppositions set forth in the first half of the story and suggests that Torah and a livelihood can go together.Footnote 42 The exclusive position attributed here to R. Yoḥanan is akin, no doubt, to Rashbi's position according to the tannaitic sources. In fact, elsewhere, the Babylonian Talmud relates that R. Yoḥanan was indeed sustained by others in pursuit of his studies.Footnote 43 Be that as it may, the extreme opposition between study and sustenance in the first half of the story, in which the pursuit of a worldly occupation nearly leads to the sages' death, is unparalleled in the tannaitic presentation of the exclusive model. The redactors of this narrative seem to have consciously rejected the exclusive model, by implying that ’Ilfa has done both and succeeded.Footnote 44
Rashbi's position is revisited by the Babylonian redactors in B. Shabbat 33b in the context of his flight from the Romans and ascetic adventure in the cave.Footnote 45 Jeffrey Rubenstein convincingly observes that Rashbi's retreat from the world occurs in the narrative in two consecutive stages.Footnote 46 First, Rashbi withdraws to the academy and leads a life of partial asceticism, while later on in the story he completely withdraws to an isolated life in the cave. In the academy he eats handmade bread and drinks water brought to him by his wife, he wears handmade clothes, and enjoys the companionship of his fellow scholars. In the cave, on the other hand, he is sustained by natural food (carobs and spring water), he is completely naked, and studies Torah in isolation (or only with his son). Likewise, when Rashbi eventually emerges from the cave and reenters society, he does it in two consecutive stages, first after twelve years of isolation and then once again after another year in the cave.
נפקו חאזו אינשי דקא כרבי וזרעי אמ' מניחין חיי עולם ועוסקין חיי שעה כל מקום שנתנו עיניהם נשרף יצתה בת קול ואמרה להן להחריב עולמי יצאתם חזרו למערתכם הדור ואזול ואיתיבו תריסר ירחי שתא במערתא אמרי משפט רשעים בגיהינם שנים עשר חדש יצתה בת קול ואמרה להם צאו ממערתכם נפקו כל היכא דהוה מחי ר' אלעזר הוה מסי ר' שמעון אמ' לו בני דיו לעולם אני ואתה חאזו לההוא סבא דהוה נקיט בידיה תרי מדאני דאסא אמרו ליה הני למה לך אמ' להו לכבוד שבת אמרו ליה ותסגי לך בחד אמ' להו חד כנגד זכור וחד כנגד שמור אמר ליה לבריה חזית כמה חביבה מצוה עלייהו דישראל.Footnote 47
They emerged. Seeing people ploughing and sowing, they exclaimed, “They forsake eternal life and engage in temporal life!” Whatever they cast their eyes upon was immediately burnt up. Thereupon a heavenly voice came forth and cried out, “Have you emerged to destroy my world? Return to your cave!” So they returned and dwelt there for twelve months, saying, “The punishment of the wicked in Gehenna is (limited to) twelve months.” A heavenly voice then came forth and said, “Go forth from your cave!” They came out. Wherever R. Eleazar wounded, R. Shimon healed. He said to him, “My son! You and I are sufficient for the world.” They saw an old man holding two bundles of myrtle. They said to him: “What are these for?” He said, “They are in honor of the Sabbath.” They said: “But one should suffice you?” He said: “One is for ‘Remember [the Sabbath day]’ [Exodus 20:8] and one for ‘Observe [the Sabbath day]’ [Deuteronomy 5:12]. He said to his son, “See how precious a commandment is to Israel.”
Ofra Meir observes that Rashbi's position displayed in this narrative is compatible with the position attributed to him in the tannaitic works, according to which dedication to Torah must entail complete renunciation from worldly occupation.Footnote 48 Bar-Asher Siegal has further suggested that the change of mind that Rashbi experiences between his first and second emergence from the cave reflects the differences between the Sifrei and the Mekhilta. When he first comes out of the cave, Rashbi expects everyone to study the Torah constantly, while criticizing others who pursue agricultural work. This approach seems to follow the position attributed to Rashbi in the Sifrei, according to which as long as the Israelites fulfill the will of God, their needs will be taken care of. Upon his reemergence, however, Rashbi says to his son “You and I are sufficient for the world,” which indicates his understanding that not all people can lead this extreme way of life. This new realization echoes Rashbi's position in the Mekhilta, according to which only those who are miraculously sustained or those who are sustained by others can devote their entire lives to the study of Torah.Footnote 49
It seems to me, however, that the Babylonian narrative represents a significant shift from the tannaitic representations of Rashbi's position. In the Babylonian narrative Rashbi's position is much more extreme than any tannaitic account. In the talmudic story, Rashbi does not merely assert that one ought to engage a life completely devoted to study, but reproaches others who do not follow his ways. In his frustration he burns up everything he casts his eyes upon, thus expressing the idea that everything in the world is worthless besides a life of complete dedication to Torah. Rashbi's position is thus pushed to its limits by the Babylonian redactors, in an attempt to criticize the exclusive model he maintains. The critical stance echoed in the heavenly voice that cries out “have you emerged to destroy my world?” and Rashbi's realization that he deserves to be punished like the wicked in hell, are likewise absent from the tannaitic works. Below, we shall see that this extreme tone towards Rashbi's exclusive position is reminiscent of the Zoroastrian depiction and critique of the Manichaean Elect.
To be sure, even after Rashbi is sent back to the cave and finally reemerges, it seems that he still doesn't get it. The assertion “You and I are sufficient for the world” is not merely a realization that not everyone is able to maintain his and his son's extreme lifestyle for lack of sufficient sustenance or some other contingent reason, but an essential statement concerning the exclusivity and ontological superiority of those who study Torah ceaselessly to all other humans who are engaged in worldly occupation.Footnote 50 Only upon his meeting with the old man does Rashbi finally realize that alternative paths to God are open to the layperson, via the fulfillment of God's commandments.Footnote 51
This classification represents a significant shift from the tannaitic portrayal of Rashbi's position in the Mekhilta, which at best acknowledges that there are contingent differences between people who are sustained by the manna or the priestly gifts and can thus pursue a life of complete dedication to Torah and others who are forced to engage in worldly occupation. The tannaitic versions of Rashbi's position do not convey a sense of a social and ontological dichotomy between those who ceaselessly study the Torah and others who are engaged in worldly pursuits.Footnote 52
A similar point is made by the Babylonian redactors in the narrative of ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan. The narrator initially relates that only one of the two sages is destined to greatness—a prediction that is realized only through R. Yoḥanan's choice to dedicate his life to Torah—while the pursuit of a livelihood nearly leads to the death of the two sages. The first part of this narrative can thus be compared to the first part of the cave narrative, in which Rashbi still believes that “You and I are sufficient for the world.” The ontological opposition between ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan collapses, however, by the end of the story, as the narrator suggests that ’Ilfa too achieved greatness in Torah despite his engagement in commerce. The conclusion of both talmudic narratives, therefore, is that religious merit can be gained even through a life which is not solely dedicated to study. ’Ilfa achieves greatness in Torah despite the fact that he had left the academy in pursuit of worldly occupation, and Rashbi finally realizes, through his encounter with the old man, that religious merit can also be gained by nonscholars who engage in mundane pursuits.
The notion that “You and I are sufficient for the world” is connected with another tradition that is attributed to Rashbi in both Talmuds.Footnote 53
כן הוה ר' שמעון בן יוחי או'. אני ראיתי בני העולם הבא ומעוטי(ה)[ם] הן. אין תלתין אינון אנא וברי מנהון. אין תרין אינון אנא וברי אינון.Footnote 54
“R. Shimon ben Yoḥai said: I have seen the people of the world to come, and they are few. If there are three, I and my son should be counted among them. If two, I and my son are they.”
In sum, the tannaitic dilemma of study versus sustenance is, in some respects, reflective of a fundamental concern that characterizes the ascetic worldview in general. Any system that gives expression to an ascetic ideology, however defined, is bound to address the basic tension that exists between the spiritual pursuits advocated by that particular system and matters of bodily sustenance. For the rabbis, the spiritual pursuit par excellence was the study of Torah, which was occasionally perceived as being at odds with agricultural occupation. Beyond the general ascetic concerns that underlie the rabbinic dilemma, however, there are particular religious concerns embedded in the Babylonian accounts of this dilemma, which differ from the tannaitic representations, and, at the same time, seem to parallel the Zoroastrian approach towards the opposition of study and a livelihood and its critique of the Manichaean Elect.
Study versus Sustenance in Zoroastrianism
Zoroastrianism is commonly believed to be a nonascetic or even antiascetic religion that affirms the essential goodness of the material creation in general and the human body in particular.Footnote 55 This conception originates from one of the most basic features of the Zoroastrian theology, according to which the material world was created by the supreme and benevolent god, Ahura Mazdā, and only later attacked by the evil spirit, Angra Mainyu. Humans are, therefore, enjoined to protect and preserve the good creation of Ahura Mazdā from the vicious attack of the evil forces. The promotion of human and animal fertility and agricultural cultivation are perceived, in this context, as essential elements in the battle against evil, from early on in the Iranian tradition. The following traditions concerning the importance of agriculture, cultivation, and fertility appear in the Young Avestan work, Videvdad.Footnote 56
There is a particular merit in cultivating the earth for the sake of the Orderly man (the righteous man who promotes order).
The Videvdad reveals an unambiguously positive approach towards agriculture, while the idea of cultivating the earth unfolds as a religious value in its own right and as the manifestation of fundamental theological principles. In light of this Zoroastrian doctrine, Arthur Vööbus has surmised that the ascetic attitudes towards agriculture expressed by various monastic groups in late antiquity “must have appeared as a living insult among the feelings shared by the society.”Footnote 62 While his observation is generally correct, it is important to understand that the Zoroastrian polemic against “noncultivation” was not directed at various forms of refraining from agriculture in favor of other spiritual pursuits, which were found among Christian monks (and among the tannaim), but rather at more essential forms of rejection of agriculture, which emphasize the inherent evil in such pursuits, as advocated by the Manichaeans. In fact, in spite of the prominence of agriculture in Zoroastrianism, certain Zoroastrian authorities—not unlike their Christian and rabbinic contemporaries—advocated the precedence of religious studies (of the Avesta and its traditional commentary, the Zand) over agricultural occupation.
In line with the rabbinic texts we have explored, the Zoroastrian sources address a very similar conflict between the study of Avesta and Zand and worldly sustenance. While there were religious authorities who preferred agriculture even when the neglect of one's religious studies was at stake, there were others who believed that the study of Avesta and Zand comprises the highest religious value and ought to be pursued even at the expense of agricultural cultivation. Significantly, although there were sages who were inclined towards one of these religious ideals more than the other, both ends were considered to be righteous and meritorious by all.
The following text from the Pahlavi translation and commentary on the Avestan Hērbedestān delineates the basic dilemma at hand in terms of a conflict between the pursuit of priestly studies—interpreted by the glossators as going “to the place of the priestly studies” (hērbedestān)Footnote 63—and the “guardianship of property” (xwāstag sālārīh).Footnote 64 The presentation of the legal dilemma is followed by several solutions offered by different religious authorities. The basic dilemma is presented in section 3.1; section 3.2 stipulates that “guardianship of property” takes precedence over going to the place of the priestly studies; section 3.3 asserts that it is better to perform priestly studies than to “resolve (take care of) the menstrual month” (daštān māh wizārdan),Footnote 65 a technical Pahlavi term that refers to the marital obligation of a husband to sustain his wife during her menstrual period (and it follows, therefore, that priestly studies are also more important than the “guardianship of property”); section 3.4 suggests that the “resolving of the menstrual month” is more important than the “guardianship of property.”
3.1
Shall the priest go away to (do) priestly studies, or does he help with keeping the flocks *out of harm? Footnote 66
About which of these two that were mentioned earlier am I speaking? The one who is a priest, shall he go to [study] priesthood? that is, shall he [go] to do the priestly studies [hērbedestān]?
Or does he assist with keeping the members of the flocks in full number? that is, shall he perform guardianship of property [xwāstag sālārīh]?
3.2
He should help with keeping the flocks *out of harm.
He assists with keeping the members of the flocks in full number, that is, he shall perform guardianship of the property [xwāstag sālārīh].
That is,Footnote 67 here it is manifest that performing guardianship of property [xwāstag sālārīh] is better than doing priestly studies [hērbedestān].
3.3
[Av. quote] “and if in search *of the daēnā”: there it is manifest that it is better to do priestly studies than to “take care of the menstrual month” [daštān māh wizārdan].
3.4
[Av. quote] “and if a wolf [...] the flocks”: there it is manifest that it is better to “take care of the menstrual month” [daštān māh wizārdan] than to perform guardianship of property [xwāstag sālārīh].
By this account, that the “menstrual month” [daštān māh] [and] the *care of the body is better than everything else.
3.5
[Av. quote] “and if in search *of the daēnā”: In doing other [matters] it is no different.
There is one who says: that is, to perform guardianship of property [xwāstag sālārīh] is better than everything else.Footnote 68
The Avestan text of the Hērbedestān inquires whether a priest (Avestan: āθrauua Pahlavi: āsrōn) should go to his priestly studies (Avestan: aθaurunǝm; Pahlavi: āsrōnīh) or should keep the flocks intact. The Pahlavi glossators interpret this dilemma in terms of a conflict between going to the priestly academy (hērbedestān) and maintaining the property (xwāstag sālārīh). The Zoroastrian dilemma is thus construed in a way similar to the rabbinic dilemma of study versus sustenance. Not unlike the rabbinic dispute, the Zand juxtaposes the positions of several religious authorities and does not attempt to provide a unified or harmonized answer. The rabbinic presentation of the dispute between R. Ishmael and Rashbi is thus quite similar to the reconstructed dispute in the Hērbedestān. Both rabbis and dastwars, furthermore, link the ideals of study and sustenance to scriptural verses stemming from the Bible and the Avesta, respectively.
The Pahlavi construal of this dilemma is, in fact, particularly akin to the Babylonian version of the rabbinic dilemma. While the tannaim address an abstracted notion of study, the Babylonian narratives introduce into the discussion a more formal locus of study. The dilemma of ’Ilfa and R. Yoḥanan is not merely whether they should pursue learning or livelihood but rather whether they should remain in the “academy” or not. Likewise, in the Babylonian version of the cave story, Rashbi initially withdraws from the world to the rabbinic “academy.” While the notion of the “academy” in itself does not seem to be a significant factor in the talmudic and Zoroastrian presentations of the dilemma, the emphasis on going away to a designated locus of study underscores and intensifies the already existing conflict between study and sustenance. If one must travel away from his home to pursue religious studies he is all the more prevented from attending to his domestic obligations. A similar shift is thus evident from the Avesta to the commentary of the Zand and from tannaitic literature to the Babylonian narratives. In both cases a more abstracted dilemma was replaced by a focus on a designated place of study (the Zoroastrian hērbedestān and the Babylonian yeshivah), an element which intensifies the conflict between study and sustenance.Footnote 69
While scholars have recently situated the Babylonian academy in the context of the development of the Christian schools of Edessa-Nisibis and Ctesiphon,Footnote 70 they have largely ignored the similarities between the Babylonian academy and the Zoroastrian hērbedestān. It is thus noteworthy that unlike earlier manifestations of the present dilemma, in the Babylonian Talmud and the Zand the notion of going away to a locus of study plays a prominent role, as it is perceived as an integral part of the “Sasanian” experience of pursuit of religious studies.
The image of the scholar who travels from city to city in pursuit of religious studies is well documented in the Babylonian Talmud, as evident for instance in the following observation made by Rav Yosef: “Those are the students of the sages who carry their legs from town to town and from country to country to give and take [=discuss] concerning the words of God.”Footnote 71 The emergence and intensification of the conflict between study and various domestic obligations in Babylonia should thus be seen in this light.Footnote 72 The differences between the Palestinian and Babylonian customs in this respect have been previously noted by several scholars: unlike their Palestinian contemporaries who generally tended to postpone the age of marriage so that they can study without disturbance, the Babylonian rabbis typically married at an early age and eventually left their homes for long durations in pursuit of religious study.Footnote 73 The distinct conflict that emerged in Babylonia between study and sustenance (as well as the conflict that emerged between study and marital relations)Footnote 74 should be understood in the broader context of Sasanian culture, in which Zoroastrian authorities confronted a similar dilemma regarding scholars who had to leave their homes for long periods of time in pursuit of religious studies.
The rabbinic (and monastic) dilemma concerning study as opposed to sustenance was thus hardly alien to the mindset of certain Zoroastrian authorities, who would have been quite comfortable with the decision of certain individuals to pursue their priestly studies at the expense of agriculture, sustenance, and other domestic obligations. The conflict that emerges between religious learning and concern for a livelihood is not an essential conflict between ontologically opposing ideals, but rather a matter of religious precedence.Footnote 75 Even those who argue that religious studies should be pursued at the expense of agriculture (Rashbi in the tannaitic sources and the position represented in Hērbedestān 3.3–4) do not maintain an essentially negative perception of agricultural labor. They simply hold that in light of a contradiction between the two pursuits, study prevails. In fact, the monk who approaches Abba Silvanus on the mountain of Sinai, or Abba John the Dwarf—mentioned in the Apophthegmata Patrum—also does not uphold an ontologically negative perception of agriculture; he simply believes that agriculture might stand in the way of higher religious aspirations.
That said, in the Babylonian narratives, the redactors confront a much more extreme rejection of agriculture that is projected back onto the figure of Rashbi. True, in these narratives too, the perceived problem with agriculture is that those who engage in it neglect the perpetual study of Torah. However, unlike the tannaitic accounts, the Babylonian narratives address the extreme proposition that those who engage in worldly pursuits “forsake eternal life” and are in some way or another worthy of death. Upon their emergence, Rashbi and his son burn up everything they see, while the angels nearly kill R. Yoḥanan and ’Ilfa for their ill-advised decision to engage in commerce. While the Babylonian redactors reject this position altogether, it is significant that such an extreme perception of agriculture is confronted only in the Babylonian tradition. Indeed, the talmudic rejection of the extreme position that denies the value of engaging in worldly occupation invokes another aspect of the Zoroastrian discourse, which was formulated in the course of its polemical encounter with Manichaeism.
Manichaeism and Worldly Occupation
In The Manichaean Body in Discipline and Ritual, Jason Beduhn artfully demonstrates that Manichaeism cannot be construed only on the basis of its theology or what he terms “the gnostic interpretation of the religion.” Rather, he asserts, attention must be shifted to the actual embodiment of Manichaean theology in everyday ritual and practice.Footnote 76 It is, therefore, a combination of practice and gnosis that constitutes Manichaeism.
The most basic structural characteristic of Manichaeism, which unified the many disparate communities that identified with Manichaeism from the Roman Empire to China, is its division into two subcommunities or classes of adherents. Sources from every region in which Manichaeism was found, both internal-normative and external-polemical, attest to this basic religious division. On the one hand there were the “Elect,”Footnote 77 and on the other hand there were the “Auditors”Footnote 78 or “Hearers”.Footnote 79
The fundamental structural division into Elect and Auditors was reflected in two distinct regimens of discipline and norms. One of the most important norms for the Elect, which was upheld to a much lesser degree by the Auditors, was the rule of noninjury that prohibits interactive behavior with the world, including any form of agriculture and cultivation in which harm is caused to living things, plants, or even to earth and water. In several confessional texts we find the following utterances typical of the Elect's regimen:
Non-injury Precept [pw'zrmy'h cxš’pδ]… But I torment and injure at all times the five elements [mrd'sp[nd]t], the fettered light, which is in the dry and wet earth. If [I permitted] the oppressive body, the torturous body, with which I am clothed—on foot or riding, moving forward or backward, going quickly or slowly—to strike or cut; [if I permitted it] on the barren earth—wounded and disrupted, oppressed and trodden—to dig or fill, build or erect; [if I permitted it] to enter into the water, into mud, snow, rainwater or dew to make its way; [if I permitted it] to divide or dismember, to wound or disrupt, the five botanic species or the five animal species, be they wet or dry; if I myself have done it, or have asked someone else to that end.Footnote 80
If I with great lewdness have planted or sowed in the earth, in a garden or plot of land, fruit-bearing [plants]; [if I] have disputed the time of cultivation when it is necessary [to give] water; [if I] have touched a little on spring mornings the sap, shoots, [or] buds of trees […] or the grain of seed; if I have touched snow, rain or dew; if I have tread upon the earth's womb where something grows or sprouts, so that through me a mixture occurs there.Footnote 81
The third precept: religiously appropriate conduct, with its two sections—I cannot keep it correctly and fully! First: In great lewdness [I have not shrunk from] cutting down or planting trees [and] groves; I have not heeded the shoots of trees and the distress of the elements [mrd'spnd'n] on a spring morning; we [all, indeed] conspire with the belly to plant and sow a garden or a plot of land.Footnote 82
As the Elect were forbidden from any agricultural activity and other “harmful” interaction with the world, the responsibility of sustenance and nourishment was conferred upon the Auditors, who provided for the needs of the Elect and thus earned their share in salvation. The Manichaean avoidance of agriculture and other worldly occupations in the name of the principle of noninjury and especially the division of two distinct regimens of discipline for the Elect and the Auditors were often put to scrutiny by Christian, Muslim, and Zoroastrian critics.Footnote 83 Thus, for instance, Augustine writes concerning the Manichaean doctrine:
For they are convinced that plants and trees possess sentient life and can feel pain when injured, and therefore that no one can pull or pluck them without torturing them. Therefore, they consider it wrong to clear a field even of thorns. Hence, in their madness they make agriculture, the most innocent of occupations, guilty of multiple murders. On the other hand, they believe that these crimes are forgiven their auditors because the latter offer food of this sort to their elect in order that the divine substance, on being purged in their stomachs, may obtain pardon for those through whose offering it is given to be purged. And so the Elect themselves perform no labors in the field, pluck no fruit, pick not even a leaf, but expect all these things to be brought for their use by their Auditors.Footnote 84
The first point that Augustine makes is that agriculture is a neutral occupation and should by no means be considered as an act of violence and injury. His second point, however, concerns what he believes to be the double standard of Manichaeism, as “the Elect themselves perform no labors in the field, pluck no fruit, pick not even a leaf, but expect all these things to be brought for their use by their Auditors.” It is thus not only the fact that the Elect condemn agriculture that troubled critics such as Augustine, but also the fact that the Elect have the Auditors do their “dirty work” for them, while they get to avoid the torturous and harmful affliction of the swallowed Light.
The Zoroastrian dispute with Manichaeism takes on a unique form in Dēnkard 3.199–200, which is particularly pertinent in the present context.Footnote 85 The basic doctrines of Zoroastrianism are presented in this text as a set of ten counsels expounded by the righteous Ādurbād, while the doctrines of Manichaeism (or at least their Zoroastrian interpretation) are presented as an opposition to these counsels voiced by Mani. The accuracy of the Zoroastrian portrayal of the Manichaean doctrines is not as crucial for our purposes as the way Manichaean theology and practice were perceived by the Zoroastrian critics. The Manichaean principle of “noncultivation” is presented as follows:
[Against that which the embellisher of righteousness, Ādurbād, counseled, not to amass a store (of wealth) by greed] the devil-afflicted Mani made a stench [saying that] through noncultivation one should destroy the food, the store of existence and the food consumption and possession of humanity in the world, and that one should amass the souls of the demons, which are called Auditors, by greed.Footnote 86
While some of the features of this critique are similar to what we have seen in Augustine's criticism of Manichaeism—such as the abuse of the Auditors by the Elect—other elements are unique to the Zoroastrian account. Unlike Augustine's conviction that agriculture is the most innocent of occupations, in the eyes of the Zoroastrian author of the Dēnkard, Mani's decree of “noncultivation” destroys “the store of existence and the food consumption and possession of humanity in the world.” Only in a religious context where agriculture constitutes a religious merit in its own right is the avoidance of it considered destructive. Indeed, it is this perception of the Manichaean theology of noninjury and avoidance of agriculture that is mirrored in the talmudic criticism of Rashbi's reconstructed position.
To be sure, the reasons for the Elect's avoidance of agriculture are fundamentally different from the reasons that are given by rabbinic and monastic texts, as the former seek to uphold the Manichaean principle of noninjury of the swallowed Light while the latter simply attempt to channel all human energies in the direction of spiritual pursuits. Despite these differences, however, a similar structural division of society vis-à-vis the activities of agriculture and gnosis emerge from the Manichaean doctrine and the talmudic understanding of Rashbi's position in the cave story. Both the talmudic reconstruction of Rashbi's position and the Manichaean discipline maintain a similar division of society, in which only the abled Elect (cf. בני עליה) completely refrain from agricultural occupation and devote their entire time to gnosis, while all the other people are expected to supply their needs. The Sifrei's idea of sustenance by others is reinterpreted in the talmudic cave story through the figure of Rashbi's wife who brings food to the study house, just as the Mekhilta's notion of the manna is transformed in the Babylonian narrative into the miraculous spring and carob tree. Rashbi does not only refrain from agriculture, however, as he completely withdraws from all worldly activities and reaches a state of stillness in the cave, akin to Manichaean discipline.
To be sure, the argument is not that Rashbi's figure in the talmudic narrative is reflective of the Manichaean doctrine or even of Zoroastrian misconceptions about Manichaeism. Rather, the talmudic discussion of Rashbi's avoidance of agriculture in favor of gnosis may be fruitfully situated in the broader context of adjacent religious traditions. The talmudic concerns surrounding Rashbi's position are similarly reflected in the Zoroastrian critique of the Manichaean doctrine. Thus, when Rashbi first emerges from the cave and burns up everything he sees, he is reproached by a heavenly voice for “destroying the world,” just like the Manichaean Elect are criticized for destroying the “store of existence and the food consumption and possession of humanity in the world” in the Zoroastrian account. Secondly, Rashbi says to his son “You and I are sufficient for the world”—triggering Rashbi's typical assertion that: “I have seen the people who ascend, and they are few. If there are three, I and my son should be counted among them. If two, I and my son are they”—invoking an exclusive theology that denies religious value to the acts of most people.Footnote 87 While the Auditors partook, in one form or another, in the Manichaean notion of salvation,Footnote 88 the Elect were often criticized by outsiders for their “redemptive exclusivity,” which denies salvation to the Auditors who do not engage in their ascetic disciplines. The relations between the Elect and the Auditors are thus described by the Zoroastrian critics as abusive and unfair, as they are said to “amass the souls of the demons, which are called Auditors, by greed.”
Eventually, the Babylonian narrator has Rashbi realize his misconception and acknowledge the significance of worldly occupation, as he ultimately understands (very much in line with Zoroastrian doctrine) that engagement in agricultural activity is by no means akin to “forsaking eternal life in favor of temporal life.” While his encounter with the old man does not directly confront the issue of agriculture and mundane labor (as it focuses on the value of the commandments), it must be considered that this encounter serves, from a literary perspective, to rectify the original encounter of Rashbi with the world, in which he harshly delegitimized the people whom he saw ploughing and sowing their fields for “forsaking eternal life.” In the end, Rashbi no longer seems to maintain that “those who ascend are few” or that those who engage in agriculture “forsake eternal life.” He finally realizes that there is more than one path leading to God.
In sum, supplementing the monastic and Greco-Roman elements that were previously discerned in the cave story, the cave story and its ramifications for the question of study versus sustenance may also be situated within the broader context of the Zoroastrian tradition and its critique of Manichaeism. This examination thus demonstrates the indispensability of a contextualized reading of the Babylonian Talmud, which takes into account a wide array of literary sources and religious traditions that confront issues quite similar to the concerns expressed by the rabbis.
Similarly to the rabbinic dilemma, the Hērbedestān inquires whether a priestly student should pursue his priestly studies or engage instead in the “guardianship of property,” and provides two alternative solutions that mirror the rabbinic stances of R. Ishmael and Rashbi. While the Avestan and tannaitic presentations of this dilemma share several elements in common, the Pahlavi and Babylonian rabbinic versions of the dilemma are more intimately connected. While the Avesta and the tannaitic works refer to a general notion of studying (Torah or priestly studies) against worldly occupation, the Babylonian narratives and the Pahlavi commentary shift the focus of the dilemma towards the notion of going to a locus of academic study, a fact that underscores and intensifies the conflict between scholarship and various domestic obligations.
Another important feature shared by the Babylonian narrative and Pahlavi literature concerns the critique of the exclusive model—attributed to Rashbi and the Manichaean Elect, respectively. Both Rashbi and the Manichaean Elect are similarly scrutinized, criticized, and caricatured for their extreme renunciation of agriculture; for “destroying the world”; and for their denial of salvation from those who work in the world and do not devote their lives to gnosis. To be sure, neither Rashbi's position in the tannaitic works nor the Manichaean doctrine ought to be construed in such a manner. It is rather the polemical perspective displayed by the Babylonian redactors of the cave story and the Zoroastrian critique of Manichaeism that are comparable. While certain Babylonian and Zoroastrian authorities accepted the precedence of study over sustenance, the talmudic narratives and the Pahlavi critique of Manichaeism wage war against the extreme formulations of the renunciation of worldly occupation, as they attempt to reaffirm practical pursuits as a mitzvah\kirbag (a meritorious deed).
It is difficult to determine whether the redactors of the Babylonian narrative were conscious of the Zoroastrian critique of the Manichaean Elect, whether they were aware of it at all, when they crafted their version of the cave story. In light, however, of the existence of comparable patterns of thought concerning learning versus livelihood in the talmudic and Pahlavi literatures, it would seem plausible to deduce that the Babylonian rabbis and Zoroastrian dastwars shared a similar outlook regarding the problem. This, in turn, evoked a similar attempt to scrutinize the exclusive positions of the Manichaean Elect and Rashbi, in order to reaffirm the milder and more balanced worldview they shared.
