This book explores the relationship of the Babylonian Talmud (especially in its later redactional forms) to contemporary Christian monastic traditions. Though this would seem to be an odd place to look for points of contact between the two traditions—rabbinic Judaism has often been said to have little to no interest in the ascetic regimen of Christian holy men and women—this book shows that the contacts were numerous and, in some instances, quite influential on the composition of talmudic narratives themselves. This is a remarkable achievement.
Siegal begins her narrative with a brief synopsis of how scholars have treated the significance of Christian material for the formation of the Talmud. An older approach represented by Ephraim Urbach argued that the Babylonian rabbis rarely referenced Christian materials because of the relative unimportance of Christianity in the Persian Empire. This presupposition has been rejected more recently by such scholars as Naomi Koltun-Fromm, Isaiah Gafni, Adiel Schremer, and Adam Becker. Peter Schäfer's most recent work has cast new light on the knowledge of Christianity among the Jews of Babylonia. Ironically, he has shown that the Babylonian Talmud (in contrast to the Palestinian) contains traditions very close to those of the New Testament, something that would have surprised Urbach. The Babylonian Talmud was not as ignorant of Christianity as once believed. But in spite of the high quality of Schäfer's research, it has focused—like most other such efforts of the past decade—on theological issues of a polemical nature, that is, how Judaism contests the claims of its rival. Siegal's intent is to find an area of contact between the two traditions that is not polemical and in which Christian ideas can be seen to influence Jewish compositions in a more constructive manner. Monastic sources offer a good point of departure on this point because they are not exegetical in nature and there will be no motivation to contrast the varying hermeneutical approaches. Rather, monastic literature is more interested in the exemplary lifestyles of various holy men and women, and on this score there is a far greater likelihood of seeing points of common interest among the two traditions. The work of Jeffrey Rubenstein comes to mind here, and Siegal is very much indebted to the approach he has taken.
The bulk of the book is devoted to a display of the numerous similarities that exist between the monastic sources and various traditions in the Babylonian Talmud. One's suspicions may be raised by the fact that Siegal draws most of her Christian examples from Egyptian sources—material that is quite distant from that of the rabbinic sages of Babylon. But as she notes, the stories about Egyptian monks were among the “bestsellers” of the ancient world. They were quickly translated from Coptic into Latin, Greek, and Syriac and ultimately to Armenian, Georgian, and Ethiopic. The numerous copies of these manuscripts is a good indicator of their remarkable popularity as well. There can be no question that these stories were well known in Babylonia and that there were Christian monks in this area that were attempting to imitate the mode of living that gave rise to them.
Though the book is chock full of potential parallels between monastic texts and the Talmud, it is important to note that Siegal has read Samuel Sandmel's famous essay on “parallelomania.” Her point is not the production of an endless list of commonalities. Rather, she is interested in demonstrating that for at least some of these parallels there exist textual controls that allow the scholar to speak confidently about the talmudic authors' reliance on a specific Christian source. Having established some good examples of this sort of thing raises the very real possibility that many of the other less obvious parallels could potentially bespeak a similar sort of literary relationship.
No doubt the best example provided in the book is the story about Shim‘on bar Yoḥai's retreat to a cave in reaction to the persecution by the Romans (B. Shabbat 33b and its parallel in Y. Shvi‘it 9:1 [38d]). What is striking in these two texts is the way the Babylonian Talmud develops traditions in a direction that has much in common with monastic practices. For example, the Palestinian Talmud describes Rashbi's retreat to a cave (1) as unmotivated, (2) the cave being a place where, by accident, there is a carob tree and (3) where, owing to the exigencies of his long stay, he suffers from a skin disease. In the Babylonian Talmud on the other hand Rashbi goes to the cave (1) to escape from Roman persecution, (2) the cave being a place where the carob and a water well appear miraculously for him, and (3) where his body suffers over time due to his acts of self-mortification. All of the features of these talmudic traditions can be located in contemporary accounts of monastic ventures into the desert to dwell in caves. Two traditions in particular are examined: Jerome's account of Paulus, a hermit in Egypt, and Paphnutius's account of monks in Upper Egypt. Siegal writes:
In Paul's story, as in the BT story, an unexpected informant for the Roman authorities causes the main figure to escape until the end of the persecutions. In all stories, the hiding place is a cave with a tree and a water fountain that provides the main character with all of his physical needs and is seen as a gift from God (or a miracle). Both the Paphnutius description and the BT's story address the problem of clothes becoming worn out and the need to find a solution for covering “what should be respectfully covered.” (155)
Most striking, in my opinion, is the way in which the Babylonian Talmud understands the stay in the cave as a means of self-mortification—not simply a place of refuge from persecutors. This becomes clear when Rashbi goes to a bathhouse in a nearby city after leaving the cave. Though the Palestinian Talmud treats this scene in a very terse fashion, the Babylonian Talmud takes care to elaborate the experience so that the reader can see the miraculous effects of the ascetic regimen. When R. Shim‘on sees Rashbi's body he cries out: “Woe to me that I see you in such a state!?” Rashbi in reply says: “Happy are you that you see me thus, for if you did not see me in such a state you would not find me thus [learned].” The story concludes with an example of Rashbi's increased knowledge of Torah: “For originally when R. Shim‘on b. Yoḥai raised a difficulty, R. Pinḥas b. Ya'ir would give him twelve answers, whereas subsequently when R. Pinḥas. b. Ya'ir raised a difficulty, R. Shim‘on b. Yoḥai would give him twenty-four answers.” As a result of this miracle Rashbi makes a donation to the city. Siegal writes:
The unique experience of Rashbi's sojourn in the cave, a retreat that usually characterizes holy men rather than rabbis, caused Rashbi to become an extraordinary scholar. Rashbi is of course fully rabbinic because it is the Torah that he studies and it influences his scholarly and dialectical abilities; nevertheless, the idea that the cave's solitude [and the corresponding acts of self-mortification] elevates his study of Torah to a higher level and bestows special powers on the recluse is almost unparalleled in rabbinic literature. (164)
Recent study of the Talmud has turned up numerous points of contact between the rabbinic movement and emergent Christianity. One distinctive feature about this study is Siegal's concluding observation that Christian sources could become a source for investigating Jewish-Christian relations in antiquity from a non-polemical vantage point: “Monastic sayings, worldviews, and models of religious behaviors are all absorbed into the Talmudic passages. This phenomenon must affect the way we regard the social and religious history of the rabbinic world, at least in the Persian Empire” (202). An obvious question arises: why were monastic materials so attractive to certain tradents in the Babylonian community? To answer this, we will have to await further study.
