Ein Yaakov - The World of Talmudic Aggada
By Dr. Moshe Simon-Shoshan
the Wise and Etshalom families
in memory of Rabbi Aaron M. Wise, whose yahrzeit is 21 Tamuz.
Y'hi Zikhro Barukh.
Lecture 34: Daf 9b-10a
Gemara continues regarding the theme of joining
geula (redemption) and tefila (prayer) by discussing the technical
problem of inserting the verse “O Lord, open my lips” (Tehillim 51:17)
between the end of the blessing of geula and the beginning of the
Shemone Esrei. This insertion would ostensibly disrupt the continuity
between geula and tefila. This passage is substantively similar to
the one on daf 4b, which we have already discussed. As such, I shall not
treat this passage here.
While discussing the recital of Tehillim 51:7 before the
Shemone Esrei, the Gemara parenthetically
mentions the practice of reciting Tehillim
19:15 at the conclusion of the Shemone Esrei:
May the words of my mouth
and the prayer of my heart
be acceptable to You, O Lord,
my rock and my redeemer.
practice the Gemara inquires:
Seeing that this
'Let the words of my
mouth be acceptable etc.'
is suitable for
recital either at the end
or the beginning [of
why did the Rabbis
at the end of the
Let it be recited at
The Gemara clearly asks this question not because it is compelling in
and of itself, but because it has an answer prepared which it wishes to present:
R. Yehuda the son of
R. Shimon b. Pazi said:
Since David said it
only after eighteen
chapters [of Tehillim],
the rabbis too
it should be said
after eighteen blessings.
The placement of this verse at the
end of the Shemone Esrei parallels its original position in the book of Tehillim. Just as the verse
from Tehillim 19 concludes eighteen chapters of Tehillim, so too
the verse concludes
the eighteen blessings of the Shemone Esrei. The Gemara asks the
obvious question with regard to this answer:
But those eighteen
psalms are really nineteen?
'Happy is the man…' (Tehillim 1)
'Why are the nations in an uproar…' (Tehillim 2)
form one chapter.
The verse in
question concludes the nineteenth chapter of
Tehillim, not the eighteenth. The Gemara concludes that the author of this
comment was using a different numbering system for the book of Tehillim.
In this system, the first two chapters are combined into a single psalm.
As a result, the number of each subsequent chapter is reduced by one. By this
reckoning, the verse, ‘'Let the words of my mouth
be acceptable…” appears at the end of the eighteenth chapter.
The Gemara proves
the existence of such a system of counting by citing yet another discussion of
the placement of a particular verse in Tehillim:
For R. Yehuda the son of R. Shimon b. Pazi said:
David composed a hundred and three chapters [of psalms],
and he did not say 'Halleluyah'
until he saw the downfall of the wicked,
as it says,
‘Let sinners cease out of the earth,
and let the wicked be no more.
Bless the Lord, O my soul. Halleluyah’ (Tehillim 104:35).
Now are these a hundred and three?
Are they not a hundred and four?
You must assume therefore that
'Happy is the man'
'Why are the nations in an uproar'
form one chapter.
R. Yehuda the son of R. Shimon b. Pazi also mysteriously miscalculated
the number of chapters of Tehillim by asserting that a verse from chapter
104 occurred after only
103 chapters. R.
Yehuda could simply be not including chapter 104 in his count. But the Gemara
takes his assertion as evidence that he too had one less chapter in Tehillim
and must have counted the first and second chapters as a single unit.
Given that the
Gemara has evidence that some people had a different numbering of the psalms,
because they combined two chapters into one, how does the Gemara know that it
was the first and second chapters that were combined? Benovitz notes that in
many ancient manuscripts, the ninth and tenth chapters were combined. The Gemara cites a tradition to back
up its claim:
For R. Shmuel b.
Nachmani said in the name of R. Yochanan:
Every chapter that
was particularly dear to David
he commenced with
and terminated with
He began with
as it is written,
'Happy is the man,’
and he terminated
as it is written,
'Happy are all they
that take refuge in Him' (2:12).
This statement not only
establishes a source for combining the first two
chapters, but it provides a literary argument for this combination. When combined, these two chapters
have a sort of “envelope” structure in which the same word, ashrei,
“happy,” appears in the first and last verse. This structure may be evidence
that the two chapters represent a single literary unit. Similarly, on a thematic
level, we might argue that the second chapter is a continuation of the first
one. The first chapter describes the rewards of the righteous and then the
punishment of the wicked. The second chapter goes on to describe how those who
rebel against God will be destroyed. The chapter concludes by returning to the
initial topic of the first chapter, the happiness of those who are loyal to God.
The confusion here regarding whether there are eighteen or nineteen
psalms is similar to the apparent confusion regarding the prayer we call the
Shemone Esrei, the “Eighteen,” which actually consists of nineteen blessings
in our liturgy. While in our case, the Gemara argues for combining two psalms,
in the case of the Shemone Esrei, a single blessing is divided into two.
Originally, in the old liturgy of the land of Israel, the two blessings, “Ve-Yerushalayim”
and “Et Tzemach David,” were a single blessing. Later, in Babylonia, this
blessing was divided into two, making the Shemone Esrei a prayer of
nineteen blessings. These two cases of nineteen which are eighteen may not be
connected, but the parallel is worth noting.
Good Prayers Make Good Neighbors
For the first time in the Talmud, the Gemara introduces the figure of
Bruria, the celebrated wife of R. Meir, who was renowned for her wisdom and
Torah knowledge. We are presented with a pair of stories about her which
highlight her skills as a biblical exegete. The immediate reason for placing
these stories here is that the first story centers around the interpretation of
Tehillim 104:35, which was also mentioned in the previous passage:
There were once some
in the neighborhood
of R. Meir
who caused him a
great deal of trouble.
R. Meir prayed that
they should die.
His wife Bruria said
What are you
Because it is
written ‘Let chata'im cease?’(Tehillim 104:35).
Is it written
It is written
Further, look at the
end of the verse:
“the wicked be no
Since the sins will
there will be no
more wicked men!
Rather pray for them
that they should repent,
and there will be no
more wicked men.
He did pray for
them, and they repented.
This story teaches important lessons about prayer as well as about our
relationship to those with whom we find ourselves in conflict. R. Meir sees those who are causing
him trouble as “sinners.” Their evil deeds reflect their inherently evil nature. He therefore prays that they be
destroyed. Ironically, the term used to describe R. Meir’s prayer is ba‘ei
rachmei, which literally means “ask for mercy.” Yet for R. Meir, prayer
is not a tool of mercy, but a weapon through which he calls down God’s wrath
upon his enemies.
Bruria takes a different approach. She does not see the world as being
divided between “us” and “them.” Her neighbors’ actions are just external
behaviors. She does not think that these ruffians are inherently evil. Rather,
they are human beings just like the rest of us and, therefore, have the capacity
to repent and mend their ways. Bruria thus insists that R. Meir pray not for
their destruction, but for their repentance. Bruria’s prayers are petitions for
mercy, not just for herself and her family, but for all people.
Bruria bases her argument on her understanding of the word chata'im in Tehillim 104:35 as
meaning “sins.” The verse thus reads, “May sins perish from the earth, and the
wicked be no more.” The wicked will disappear not because they will be killed,
but because they will have repented, and their sins will have disappeared. In
fact, however, while the Hebrew word in question does generally mean sins, the
word chata'im as it is vocalized in our
Bibles (with a patach under the chet and a dagesh in the
tet), means “ones who sin” not “sins.” R. Meir initially appears to have
read the verse in this way, which explains his desire to see the sinners
themselves destroyed. Rashi seems to be aware of this problem. He, therefore,
explains that Bruria understood the word to refer to the yetzer ha-ra,
the evil urge. In fact, however, the vocalization that we find in our Bibles was
only fixed centuries after the completion of the Gemara. Bruria may well have
had an alternative vocalization. Equally likely, she may not have cared much
about the finer points of biblical Hebrew grammar, and simply interpreted the
verse according to the common meaning of the words.
The second Bruria story also presents her as a formidable interpreter of
A certain Christian said to Bruria:
It is written:
‘Sing, O barren,
thou that didst not bear’ (Yishayahu 54:1).
Because she did not
bear is she to sing?
She replied to him:
Look at the end of
where it is written,
‘For the children of
saith the Lord.’
In this first stage of the story, Bruria’s Christian interlocutor does
not appear to be much of an adversary. He asks about the apparent
counterintuitive nature of a line from Yishayahu which urges a childless
woman to rejoice. Why should a woman in such a terrible situation rejoice?
Bruria responds simply by pointing out that the questioner had not bothered to
read the rest of the verse, which promises this woman many children in the
future. Bruria’s answer is not profound; it simply demonstrates her basic
knowledge of the biblical text. The Christian appears pathetic, like a
missionary who goes out only with a list of biblical quotes out of context,
never having actually opened a Bible. He does not represent a serious threat to
the educated Jewish community. Such people can be swatted away like so many
In its final lines, however, the story takes a sudden turn::
But what then is the
'a barren that did
‘Sing, O community
for not having born
children like you for Gehena.
This final exchange does not really fit in with the rest of the story.
Bruria just said that the phrase, ‘Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear,’
needs to be read in the context of the rest of the verse. Now, Bruria interprets
this phrase in marked opposition to its context. She acknowledges the legitimacy
of the Christian’s original question of why a barren woman should rejoice. She
responds by identifying the barren woman as the community of Israel, who are
contrasted with the Christian community. Bruria argues that being barren is
good, if the alternative is bearing children who are destined for hell!
This final stage of the story also differs from what precedes it in that
it suggests a radically different picture of the relationship between Jews and
Christians in the time of the later Tanaim (rabbis of the Mishna). Previously,
Christianity did not appear as a significant threat. The Christian is
represented as a questioner who lacks basic knowledge of the Bible and is easily
dismissed by a learned Jew. Now, Bruria responds to the Christian with
theological ferocity, telling him that contrary to Christian teachings, his
community is not “saved,” but damned. Better to have never come into existence
than to be a Christian! The aggressiveness of Bruria’s attack suggests that she
is responding to a group that she sees as a serious threat to her own community.
Bruria’s polemical interpretation of this verse form Yishayahu
might be better understood if placed in the context of early Christian biblical
interpretation. The founders of Christianity were very aggressive in their
attempts to interpret the Bible in Christian terms. This interpretation was part
of their effort to prove that they, and not the Jews, were the true inheritors
of God’s biblical covenant with Israel. In a famous passage in the New Testament
(Galatians 4:21-31), Paul attacks the legitimacy of the Jewish people and
their commitment to the law. He compares the people of Israel and the Church to
the children of Hagar and Sara respectively.
Hagar had a child quickly and easily. Yet she was only a slave, so her
relationships with Avraham and God were not permanent. Ultimately, she was
driven from Avraham’s house. Sara, on the other hand, was a barren woman.
Ultimately, however, she gave birth to the child who was promised by God and was
the true inheritor of Avraham. In the midst of this homily, Paul cites our
verse. He identifies the barren woman at the beginning of the verse with Sara
and the Church, and the fertile woman at the end of the verse with Hagar and
In other words, Bruria’s interpretation of Yishayahu 54:1 is a
mirror image of the interpretation offered by Paul around a century earlier.
Each one identified their own group with the rejoicing childless woman who is
Yishayahu’s symbol of downtrodden Israel’s promise of ultimate redemption.
Bruria, or any of the other Sages, were highly unlikely to have been aware of
this particular passage in the Christian scriptures. However, Bruria lived in an
environment in which Judaism and Christianity were engaged in a life and death
struggle over the claim to be the “true Israel” of the Bible. She may well have
been aware that this verse was interpreted by Christians in an anti-Jewish
manner. As such, she turned the tables on her Christian opponent, using this
verse in her own attack on Christianity.
The Vilna Gaon, cited in the Imrei Noam, suggests a further link
between the fates of the Christians and the Jews in this passage. He cites a
midrash (Bereishit Raba 42) that states that God gave Avraham a choice
between going into exile under non-Jewish rule or going to hell. Avraham chose
the former. Hence, when Bruria notes that the Christians, not the Jews, are
destined for hell, she is actually making an argument about the current state of
the Jews. The fact that Jews are in a state of exile does not prove that God has
abandoned them, as the Christians claim. Rather, this fact is evidence that they
will be spared final punishment directly at the hands of God, whereas the
Christians, who enjoy power now, are destined for damnation. This reading does
not fit the historical circumstances of Bruria’s time, when Christianity was
still a persecuted religion in the Roman Empire. However, this reading certainly
fits the reality several centuries later in the time of the Amoraim (rabbis of
the Gemara), when the Empire was already a Christian institution.
As a final note on this pair of Bruria stories, I would like to point
out that they bear a curious resemblance to the story of R. Yehoshua ben Levi,
found on daf 7a. In that story, R. Yehoshua ben Levi also has bitter
fights with a Christian about biblical interpretation. Like R. Meir, he too
seeks to destroy his troublesome neighbor by kindling the wrath of God, and he
too ultimately abandons this plan.
Too Close for Comfort
The next story also presents an exchange between a Jewish scholar and a
Christian. The story picks up the
discussion regarding the first chapters of Tehillim that preceded the
said to R. Abahu:
It is written:
‘A Psalm of David
when he fled from Avshalom his son’ (Tehillim 3:1).
And it is also written,
‘A mikhtam of David
when he fled from Shaul in the cave’ (Tehillim 57:1).
Which event happened first?
Did not the event of Shaul happen first?
Then let him write it first?
He replied to him:
For you who do not derive interpretations from juxtaposition,
there is a difficulty,
but for us who do derive interpretations from juxtaposition
there is no difficulty.
For R. Yochanan said:
How do we know from the Torah
that juxtaposition [is a legitimate factor in interpretation]?
Because it says,
‘They are juxtaposed for ever and ever,
they are done in truth and uprightness’ (Tehillim 111: 7-8).
Why is the chapter of Avshalom
juxtaposed to the chapter of Gog and Magog?
So that if one should say to you,
is it possible that
a slave should rebel against his master?
You can reply to him:
Is it possible that a son should rebel against his father?
Yet this happened; and so this too [will happen].
does not seem to be much theologically at stake in this conversation. The
Christian wants to know why the psalm about David’s flight from Avshalom comes
before the one about his flight from Shaul, when in fact they happened in the
opposite order. The Christian appears to genuinely want R. Abahu’s opinion on
this matter. R. Abahu answers that the psalm about Avshalom is placed
immediately after the second chapter of Tehillim, which he understood as
referring to the eschatological battle between Gog and Magog. Avshalom’s revolt
against his father, in a way, foreshadows Gog and Magog’s revolt against God.
The story of Avshalom thus makes the prophet’s apocalyptic predictions more
feasible. There does not seem to be anything offensive to Christians in R.
Abahu’s interpretation. Indeed, Christians were at least as sure as the Jews
that the end was coming and would involve a spectacular Armageddon. .
Rather, the point of dispute here is hermeneutic. R. Abahu points out
that he is only able to answer this question because he embraces the hermeneutic
principle of “dorshin semukhin,” interpreting one passage in the Bible on
the basis of the passage immediately preceding or following it. Christians, who
reject this method, have no way of dealing with this issue in the text.
The claim that the rabbis used the principle of semukhin and the
Christians did not is most likely not significant in and of itself. More likely,
R. Abahu is responding to Christian attacks against the entire system of
midrashic interpretation. R. Abahu is pointing out to his Christian interlocutor
the strengths of the midrashic method as it is able to resolve problems that
Christian scholars are unable to solve using their own methods.